#my trauma doesn’t let me understand if I’m overreacting or if something is actually a problem and instead it just makes everything feel like

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[flowery-mess]

THE FIRE WITHIN

chapter 2 (series masterlist)

Pairing: fire fighter Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Theresa Monroe, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / fire / mentions of death / trauma / flashbacks / kissing / I think that's it, let me know

Words: 6,9k

Author's note: FINALLY, I hope you like it as much as I do hehe❤️

Be aware you're reading this at your own decision, it contains sensitive topics, so please think twice before reading as I wouldn't want to cause anyone any discomfort while reading my work!

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“Good morning Lieutenant.” you say as you open your office door and see Noah standing outside.

“Morning.” he tries to give you a small smile that turns more into an uncomfortable frown, but it’s something.

“Do you want something to drink?” you continue to watch Noah and try to read his nonverbal movements. He looks like a lost puppy who needs help, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. “You can sit on the couch or in the chair, whatever is more comfortable for you.” you tell him when you notice his eyes scanning the whole room.

“Okay. And water is fine.” his big frame barely fits into the small couch, but he seems somehow comfortable. Your office isn’t anything special. You work with adults, with people who run into fires and see the worst, you’re sure they don’t need any colorful furniture or overly positive posters. But even adults like to make their hands busy when they talk, so you have small pillows and even small fluffy toys on your couch.

“Here you go.” you hand Noah a big glass of water and sit behind your desk. He follows with a quiet “Thank you.” and then it’s just silence for a few seconds.

“So, do you want to start or do you want me to start?” you ask him, knowing his answer will be for you to start, but almost every time they stumble over their words and it’s actually them who starts the conversation.

“I think you can. I don’t know what to talk about actually, the captain sent me here.” here he goes.

“There’s always a reason when captain sends one of his men for a therapy meeting.”

“Didn’t you speak with him? To confirm this meeting, so if you did just spare me this questioning like some child.”

“I did talk with him, but only to confirm today’s session. You’re my client, not him. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Did you mean patient?” he snapped back.

“What?”

“You said client, am I not more of a patient?”

“I’m not a doctor and I don’t believe you need any actual healing, talking helps just fine.” you replied back with an attitude, two can play this game.

“Okay.”

“Did your captain tell you why he wants you to see a therapist? Let’s start there.” you gave him a direction, topic that he can talk about and you could see him become more uncomfortable and nervously shift in his place.

“He told me that since that call I’m not myself and that I need help.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“No, I’m just being careful with my job.”

“What does that mean?” you could see him becoming a bit annoyed with you, but that’s therapy. If he won’t talk about it himself, you have to push him.

“I yelled at a kid. And the owner of a factory we had a call at. And a woman on another call.” Noah confessed and his cheeks turned red.

“And why did you yell at them?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” he asked straight with an attitude. It wasn’t unusual for firefighters to act like this, but you very much preferred when they talked a bit more without all this pushing from you.

“That’s my job.”

“The kid, it was for his safety. They had a fire in their garden and when we arrived the first thing I noticed was three gas tanks next to where he was standing. I yelled at him to move and he started crying.” Noah was hard to work with, but when he talked about what happened you could see the wheels in his head turning and the realisation that he maybe overreacted. “I was just scared the fire is gonna reach the gas tanks and he’s gonna get hurt.”

“That’s understandable. You did your job, your reaction could be better, but everyone has their moments. What about the factory?”

“It was a small fire from an old kitchen device. When we arrived I think I got a flashback from that call and wanted to prevent something like that happening again. I yelled at the owner to tell us if they have any explosive stuff in there.” 

You noticed how he kept calling it “that” call, obviously uncomfortable to talk about it directly.

“Okay, that was a trauma response. It’s okay to have it, it’s important how you work with it. I know you often don’t have time to think about your actions, but in cases like this it’s good to step back for a second and take a moment.” you nodded at him to continue talking.

“And the woman. She fell asleep with her oven on and woke up when her whole apartment was filled with smoke. She didn’t have any fire system that could let her know the moment the smoke began to fill her kitchen. Irresponsible.”

“Many people don’t have fire systems at their homes.”

“But they should have. That oven could blow her small apartment.”

“Yeah it could, but it didn’t. Did you tell her about it and give her any tips for those fire systems?”

“No.”

“Then that’s a good solution for next time. They don’t understand those things, I bet she’d appreciate your help with choosing one for her apartment. But again, it was a mistake and you can only learn from it.” you watched Noah look around the room, outside of your big window and then his gaze fell on his hands. He wasn’t ashamed, that’s not the right word, he was uncomfortable.

He knew he made those mistakes and deep down he knows why he made them, but he was angry with himself. He was never like that, he was always careful, but easy going with the people. He always wanted to help them, but since that call he became seeing danger even where it wasn’t.

“How many sessions will I need for you to tell him I’m fine?” Noah suddenly changed the topic.

“I don’t know, we will see how it goes. We can end it today, if you prefer short sessions?” you didn’t want to torture him any longer.

“Yes, I think we can continue another time.”

“Okay, when are you free again? This week? Or next week?” you went to grab your diary to see when you were free while Noah grabbed his phone.

“This Friday would work for me, if you’re free?”

“I’m free in the afternoon, 2PM is okay with you?”

“Yes.”

And with that you said your goodbyes and Noah left your office. Before he did you watched him place the empty glass back where he saw you grab it and then fix the cushions where he was sitting. He left you with a short “Bye.” and again a small smile.

---

Friday 2PM came around and you heard a knock on your office door.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late, traffic.” Noah told you between his heavy breathing, probably from the stairs he just quickly ran up.

“Hi. It’s okay, you’re my last client today.” you smiled at him and motioned for him to come inside. “Do you want water? Coffee?”

“Water please.”

So you repeated everything you did last time, told Noah that he can sit down and gave him a glass of water.

“How are you today lieutenant?” you started.

“Okay I guess.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“How was your last shift?” you saw he finally found a comfortable position on your couch and his eyes met yours. He didn’t look as tired as always, but there were still shadows of tiredness under his eyes.

“Good. I, uhm, I actually went back to the apartment where that woman lives and told her about fire alarms and the best options she could get.” he shifted his gaze to your window before he said “And I apologized.”

You smiled at the information he just shared with you and you couldn’t miss the pink in his cheeks when you told him “That’s really nice of you Noah.”

“It’s the least I could do for acting like a jerk.”

“That’s true.” you admitted with a laugh. He was in a much better mood than the last time you saw him. “Did anything else that you’d like to tell me about happened?”

“I don’t think so, just some small fires and medical calls.” he shrugged his shoulders again and before he could think about what he’s going to say he said out loud “And what about you?”

You gave him a confused look and he immediately continued “Sorry I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay. I can tell you about my job if having a conversation like this helps you.”

“Okay.”

“Well, we’re working on a new project where a therapist would be assigned to a few stations and spend one full day there so you firefighters would have easier access to us if you need it. Then I had a few calls, because I’m also part of the crisis intervention team. We had one suicide attempt and also a fire of a family house. They lost their father so that was hard. Then a few meetings with firefighters that requested it  and I also had a lot of paperwork this week so I spent most of my time behind a desk.” you told Noah about your week.

“Your job is actually very cool.” Noah said honestly. He didn’t give you and colleagues enough credit for your job. He thankfully has never been on many calls where the crisis intervention team has been needed, so he never saw the hard work. He thought you sit here behind your desk all day and ask people questions.

“Could say the same about your job.” you told him, “And how about your captain? Has he noticed any changes in your behaviour on calls?”

“He said I still need to work on it, but that he can see I’m trying.” his hands were intertwined in his lap and his eyes looking down at them. You saw the tension in his shoulders, obviously from the uncomfortable topic.

“That’s great after just one session. I mean, the time to process what happened also helps.” you gave him a small smile which he returned.

“Can we not talk about that yet?” he looked at you with sad eyes, obviously still processing that one call.

“Sure. Maybe you can educate me on those fire alarms.” you changed the topic.

“Are you really telling me you don’t have one right now?” he furrowed his eyebrows and his posture changed. He was in a firefighter mood about to give you a speech on how it’s important.

“Guilty.” you said barely above a whisper.

“Dear God.” he sat back on the couch and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You just laughed at his reaction and then he asked you about your living situation so he could tell you which one is the best for you.

You didn’t lie, you really don’t have a fire alarm at your apartment, but you also wanted to change the subject for him to feel more comfortable again. He loved his job, so talking about stuff like that helped to ease his nerves.

He explained how those systems work, how much they cost and which ones are the best in his personal opinion. When he was finished he looked calm and happy with the instructions he gave you.

“If you don’t have one installed by the end of next week I’m gonna do it myself.” he said after you promised you’re going to order one right after he leaves.

“Okay, deal.” you shook his hand. “Anything else you want to talk about today?”

“Do you have a medical kit at your apartment?”

“What?”

“I’m scared for your safety now that I know a fire department employee doesn’t have a fire alarm system at home.” he told you with a smile. “I’m just joking, but really, get the system asap.”

��I will.” you promised. “So, how about next week?”

“Is Tuesday okay for you?” Noah checked his phone and proposed a day that fits for him.

“Tuesday at 10AM?” you found a free spot that day.

“Yeah, that works for me.”

“Great.” you both added the session to your calendars before Noah stood up and left.

When you closed the door after him, you noticed the smile on your face. And realised that you’re way too excited for a Tuesday. “Wrong!” something inside your head yelled at you.

And maybe you should’ve listened back there to that little voice.

—

Tuesday sitting with Noah was similar to the previous one. He was moving forwards and he was opening more to you. You told him that someone is coming on Friday to install your fire alarm and he was happy about it. He told you about his shifts and then you agreed on the next date for your next session.

The next session he brought you a small extinguisher as a joke, but also because he was “Sure you also don’t have one of these at home.” and he was right.

The next time he brought you apple pie from the station, saying that an old woman brought them three pies for saving her cat.

You got into more personal topics throughout the sessions and you learned that he lives alone, no girlfriend (he mentioned that, of course you didn’t ask, that would be unprofessional), that being a firefighter was a random decision not his dream. He was sneaky and tried asking about your personal life too, but you didn’t tell him much. At least not most of the time.

One day he brought you chocolate, a full bag of chocolate bars. They had a call at a grocery store and the owner gave them lots of snacks. He used the opportunity and asked “Won’t your boyfriend be mad that you got a bag of chocolate from someone?” with a smirk on his face.

So he finally knew that you don’t have a boyfriend and that no one gets mad when you come home with little gifts from him.

You couldn’t deny the chemistry and subtle flirting between you two, but you were sure to remain professional and decline all of his attempts to “Join me and the guys at a bar tonight?” which he tried too many times.

This went on for two more weeks and as much as you were glad that Noah was doing better on calls and he seemed happier and less tired, you wanted to talk about that call with him. He never brought it up himself and when you did, he quickly changed the topic.

You were nervous for today’s session because you planned on bringing it up.

“Hi.” Noah had a smile on his face when you opened the door.

“Hi.” you smiled back at him. He went to get his water, something he started to do after a few sessions.

He was wearing grey sweatpants and black t-shirt, looking handsome in his casual clothes.

“What’s with that face?” he motioned to you when he sat down. You didn’t even realize it, but your smile was gone and a nervous expression took over your face.

“What? Nothing.” you lied.

“You look like someone stole all of your toys.” he laughed.

“Listen Noah,” you took a few breaths, preparing yourself for a very uncomfortable conversation. “I can see your progress and I spoke with your captain. I know you’re doing much better and I’m happy about it. But before we end your therapy I think it’s important to talk about what got you here in the first place. And because I feel like you don’t need these sessions anymore I think it’s best we talk about it now, so you can get rid of me.” you tried to joke at the end, but he didn’t find it funny.

First, he didn’t want to get rid of you. Second, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“No.” his smile was gone and so was the fun atmosphere he brought with him when he came in.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but I thi-”

“You said I’m doing better and I really feel better. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to go back and talk about it.” he advocated for himself.

“I’m not saying it’s necessary Noah, I already signed your papers, but I advise you to talk about it.”

“Then give me the papers and I’m going to leave.” he stood up, ready to take what he needed and leave your office.

“Noah, please, just hear m-”

“No.”

“Noah.” you looked at him, but he avoided your eyes.

“If you think I’m good to go back to working without therapy, then I’d like to take the papers and leave.”

You took the papers out of the first drawer and pushed them to the side of the table that he was standing at. “Here.” you said.

He was looking down at them for a few seconds, but then he took them in his hand and without looking at you he turned around and started walking towards your door.

“Noah if you need anything you can c-”

“Thank you for your time, I appreciate your help. Have a nice day.” he said with his back to you and then closed the door.

That’s not how it was supposed to go. But you couldn’t stop him, you couldn’t make him talk about it if he didn’t want to. You just didn’t want your therapy meetings to end this way. You started to like him and thought that maybe you two could be friends. You already knew that you were assigned to station 25 for the new project and that you will be spending every Tuesday there. 

—

“Hello everyone, I believe you all have met me at the last crisis debriefing, but for those who don’t remember me my name is Theresa Monroe, you can call me Tessa. Me and my team are trying to improve the mental health of firefighters and we came up with this project. Every station now has its own therapist who will be here one day a week.” you scanned all of the men in front of you. This was your third time introducing the project, the only shift left. A shift, Noah’s shift. He stood on the far left and did everything to avoid your eyes. “For now it’s only one day a week, the goal is to change that into a full week, but we don’t have enough resources. I’ll be here every Tuesday, station 21 on Wednesday and 19 on Thursday, but you all have my number so don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything even when I’m not here. My office is on the first floor, door number 15. Thanks for your attention.”

You finished your introduction and heard the captain say “You’re dismissed.” to the guys. But your attention was still on the tallest one who looked like being dismissed and mopping the floor is a thousand times better than listening to you talk.

“Let me walk you to your office.” the captain said and motioned for you to start walking.

“Thank you cap, I hope this is a good step.” you didn’t hide your hesitation. You were scared and it wasn’t only because Noah works here. Most of the guys respect you and your job, but there are still some of them who’s trust you’ll have to gain.

“Don’t worry, they’ll let you in soon.” he gave you a smile and continued walking.

—

“How’s your first day here going?” you were making a coffee in the kitchen area when Nick Ruffilo stepped in, followed by his best friend Noah.

“Good, thank you.” you smiled at him. He was nice, probably around the same age as you and he always had something to have a small talk about with you.

“I’m gonna run in my car for the pasta, start the water Noah.” he gave Noah instructions and left the kitchen.

Silence took over the room, but you couldn’t help but break it.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked Noah.

He grabbed a middle sized pot and filled it with water. He didn’t look at you and acted like he didn’t hear your question.

“Listen, I didn’t want our sessions to end that way. I didn’t want to make you angry I ju-”

“Did you choose this station because of me?” he finally turned his body to face you.

Him and Nick were in the gym before they came to grab some food. He was wearing black shorts and a navy blue FD t-shirt. His hair was all over the place and you had to hold yourself back to not reach out to run your fingers through it.

“Do you really think that?” you didn’t blame him, but the truth was you didn’t get to choose the stations you were working at.

“To make me talk about that day?” he continued.

“Noah I‘d never do that.” you made step closer to him, he made one step back. That reaction hurt you, so you just grabbed your coffee and before you left the room you said “I was assigned three stations by my boss. I was only trying to help you. I’m sorry we ended on such a bad note, but I hope you’ll understand and we can be friends.”

With that you left Noah standing there without a chance to react.

—

“Noah move!”

“Sebastian, come on!”

“Noah, let's get out of here!”

But Noah’s legs couldn’t move. He was standing in the centre of the fire. He saw the bodies of his dead colleagues. He saw Nick yelling at him. He saw the flames around him. But he couldn’t move. He was going to die.

Noah sat up in his bed, covered in sweat and his body was shaking. Nightmares like this one come to him at least once a week and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

As always, he stood up from his unmade bed and took a cold shower. His phone showed 4:12AM. Seeing no point in going back to sleep he stayed up, had breakfast and did some short workout.

—

Three weeks later:

“Are you actually gonna drink that?” you pointed at the raw egg in a small glass and then looked at Nick.

“Of course! Morning routine.” he shrugged his shoulders like it was an obvious part of everyone's morning.

“Are you gonna do it too?” you turned to face Noah. Him and Nick were joined by their hips, where was Nick, there was Noah and the other way around.

You used every chance you got to talk to Noah and it finally looked like he was being more friendly again.

“Hell no.” he said with a disgusted face and you both watched Nick swallow the egg.

“You’re disgusting.” you told him and left the kitchen with a laugh.

Before you reached your office you heard Noah “Tessa wait!” and saw him jogging towards you.

“Yeah?” you looked up at him.

“Me and some of the guys are going out tomorrow, do you, ugh, do you wanna join us?” he ran his hand through his hair and looked nervous.

“Oh,” you were shocked with that invitation and by the fact that Noah was the one asking you, “I mean, yeah. I’m free tomorrow.”

“Great.” he gave you a small smile.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll text you the details?”

“Sure.” and with that he turned around and went back to hang out with the boys.

Your phone buzzed just a minutes later with “Jack’s bar, 7PM :)”

—

“What the hell do I wear to go out with a bunch of firefighters?” you groaned into your phone which earned a laugh from your best friend.

“Something sexy.” she teased you.

“It’s a bar, so nothing fancy. Do I wear jeans and a t-shirt? Or is that too casual?”

“You just said that you’re going to a bar Tess! Don’t overthink it, wear black jeans, black top and that red flannel shirt you have over it.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

You got dressed in that outfit and kept talking with her while you did your make up and hair. You were nervous, because you didn’t want to be overdressed. They’re still guys and they’re going to drink beer and play darts.

You decided to straighten your hair and do some natural makeup.

“Is that hotshot from your therapy gonna be there too?” you rolled your eyes at her.

“His name is Noah and don’t call him that. It’s inappropriate.” you said that more to yourself, because of course you already thought of what he’s going to be wearing tonight. “And yes he’s gonna be there.”

“Damn you should’ve put something more sexy on then!”

“Shut up!”

She started calling Noah a hotshot after you described to her how he looks. You two met in school and she often asks you about your job, saying it’s much more interesting than couples therapy. You didn’t tell her any details about why Noah had to see you in therapy, but you may have mentioned that he's an attractive guy.

After your friend made you promise to tell her all the details in the morning you took a cab to the bar.

It was 7:10PM when you got out of the car. You entered the bar and was hit with the smell of beer and sweat. Thank god you didn’t wear a dress.

You scanned the sitting area and it didn’t take you long to find the group of big and loud men.

“Hi.” you said when you reached the table and everyone looked at you.

You got greeted by a loud “Hey!” when all of them said it at the same time, they gave you an empty chair to sit on and before you had a chance to order a drink, beer was placed in front of you. You don’t drink beer, but you decided against saying “Can I have a fancy drink instead?”

You looked around the table and saw Noah sitting at the opposite side of the table a few chairs to the right. He waved at you and you returned it.

“So, Tessa, are you from here?” Dean asked you. You took a sip from the beer and made a face, hoping no one noticed it.

“Yes, born and raised in LA. How about you guys?” you got to know how everyone got to LA and felt more comfortable in this group of guys.

In the heat of the conversation you didn’t even notice that Noah stood up and walked over to you. You felt his hand on your shoulder and when you looked up you were met with his warm brown eyes.

“What do you want to drink?” he lowered himself so you could hear him.

“I still have a beer.” you motioned to your still almost full glass of beer.

“Yeah and you look like you’re gonna throw up every time you drink it. What do you want?” he laughed and asked you again.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked him and he just nodded, “A white wine please?”

“Sure.” your eyes followed him as he made his way to the bar. He towered over everyone so it was easy to keep an eye on him. When he reached the bar he leaned against the wooder desk and you could see his full outfit.

He was wearing black jeans and a plain black t-shirt. You could see his tattoos from the short sleeves and his muscles.

He came back with a glass of wine and leaned down again, this time even closer so only you could hear him. “Grab the beer and follow me.”

You gave him a questionable look, but did what he said and followed him outside.

“I needed some fresh air.” he said and took the beer out of your hand and replaced it with the wine.

“Thank you.” you lifted the glass before taking a sip.

“And I also want to apologize.” he looked down on his shoes, feeling ashamed of how he reacted. “I shouldn’t have stormed out the way I did. Or treat you the way I did for the first two weeks. I’m sorry Tessa.” he sounded genuine.

“Apology accepted.” at that his head shot up and he had a confused look on his face.

“I thought it’s gonna take a lot more than that.”

You laughed at his reaction. “Well, in the end it’s you who lives in your mind, not me. What I thought was good for you was only my opinion, so I’m sorry too if I overstepped a line.”

“You did your job, you don’t have to apologize.” he said and you two fell in comfortable silence.

You walked a bit around the bar to find a quiet place with a wooden bench. Noah sat down first and you followed his actions.

“Did you really not choose the stations you’re working at?” he asked. You felt the heat of his body, you were sitting close to each other, your shoulders almost touching.

“I swear I did not. I was assigned three stations. I even thought about asking for a change so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with me working at the same place.” you admitted.

“But you didn’t? Why?”

Because I wanted to see you again, you thought but swallowed those words.

“I didn’t want to cause problems for the administration.” liar.

“Okay.” he replied, “I’m glad you didn’t ask for a change.” he said the last part quietly, but it was enough for you to hear him.

You turned your head to the left and caught Noah staring at you. He didn’t look away, he wasn’t ashamed that you caught him.

He smiled at you and leaned his face closer to yours.

His forehead was touching yours and you felt his hot breath against your lips. Lips you wanted to kiss so bad.

“Maybe now that you’re not my therapist-”

“No Noah, you know we shouldn't.” it hurt you to say it, but you knew if you two kissed it wouldn’t stop there and that was wrong.

He didn’t move away, he brushed the bridge of your nose with his, inhaling your flowery scent. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed being this close to you.

“No one has to know.” he whispered, tempting you to give in.

“Noah.” you whispered back and held in a moan when his lips kissed your jaw, the contrast between his warm mouth on your cold skin sending shivers through your body.

He kissed your jaw slowly a few times before he looked back at you. There was a desire and lust in his eyes and you were sure he could find the same emotions in yours.

He leaned closer to you again and when he didn’t see you move away he went for a kiss. You tried to persuade yourself to not kiss him back, but the spark you felt when he kissed you was stronger.

You both tested the waters with small pecks first. Noah was the one to deepen the kiss. You tasted the beer he saved you from on his lips, but you didn’t mind.

You got lost in the moment and realized what you two were doing when you felt Noah’s hand on the back of your neck bringing you even closer to him. You put your free hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“This is so wrong.” you told him. He was smiling back at you, obviously more happy than you about what just happened.

“So wrong, but felt so good.” he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your lower lip.

“We should get back.” you put his hand down and stood up. You didn’t wait for him to follow you inside.

For the rest of the night you avoided Noah as much as you could, but you also didn’t want to be suspicious. You exchanged a few words with him when you both were having conversation with someone else, but that was it.

You were confused. You liked it, obviously you liked it when he kissed you. But you knew it was wrong and if someone found out there would be consequences. Relationships at work are not strictly prohibited, but it’s not exactly welcomed.

But who said this would turn into a relationship? Maybe he just wanted sex?

You thought about your sessions with Noah and realized they were different from anyone else. You usually never share details about your personal life, but you did with Noah. He knew things about you just as you did about him. You were sure you asked him about his childhood just because you wanted to get to know him better, not for understanding his behaviour at work as you told him.

He then asked you about your childhood and family and you should’ve said that’s not any of his business. But you didn’t.

Stupid. Unprofessional. Reckless. You called yourself out in your head.

When he wasn’t looking at you, you stole glances in his direction. Since he came back from outside he seemed to get more quiet and his smile was smaller than before.

He was interested in you, he wanted to get to know you better and he thought it was mutual. He understood that work could be a problem, but you two wouldn’t be the first to date while working at the same station.

The lack of communication from both of you got you back into this weird atmosphere at work.

You both kept your sentences short and didn’t really engage a conversation when it wasn’t needed.

It was uncomfortable and you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. Your mind was full of his lips on yours and how good it felt when he kissed the sensitive skin on your jaw. You had to stop this and you did in the only way you thought was right.

“Do you have a moment?” you finally found him, sitting behind a desk and catching up with last week's paper work. He lifted his head to look at you and for the first time you couldn’t read the look he gave you.

“What do you need?” he asked and looked back down at the papers.

“What happened at the bar, that, that can’t happen again, okay?” you lifted your weight from one leg to the other. You were nervous.

“Yeah you made that clear right after it happened.” he scoffed and still didn’t look at you.

“You know why Noah. I don’t want to risk our jobs.” he just laughed at your answer.

“As if we would be the first ones to be sexually involved with a colleague.” he shook his head, “Are you even my colleague if you work here once a week?” he finally looked up at you.

“You know that we’re working on getting more people for the psychological department, so it’s only a matter of months until I’ll be permanent at only one station and it could be this one.”

“It’s a matter of months and it may be this one, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s okay Theresa, I get it. You don’t have to worry.” Theresa, he never called you that. It was always Tessa or Tess.

“Noah I-” you were cut off by the alarm blaring through the station and Noah immediately got up and left the office.

You heard everyone run downstairs and the sounds of their gear as they got into the ladder and engine and left the station. You waited until you couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, turned around and walked out of the room.

Back in your office you got back to your job, filling your boss on how the new project is going, then you had some paperwork to do and before you were about to leave for the day you updated your calendar with appointments and sessions you had planned.

When you turned your computer off and looked outside, the sun started to set and you realized that the crew still hadn’t come back.

When the call came in you were still processing your conversation with Noah and you missed what dispatch said. Something big probably, otherwise they would have been back already.

Seeing it was 9 minutes after 5PM you started packing your things, making sure you didn’t forget anything.

After you changed from your uniform you heard the trucks reverse back into station and after that you heard lots of voices. They’re back, good.

You assumed everyone would head straight for the shower so you were surprised when you heard heavy knocking on your door.

“Come in.” the door opened and you saw Noah.

Still in his gear, his face was covered in sweat and ashes, his hair a mess all over his head and his breathing was terrifyingly quick.

“Are you okay?” you furrowed your eyebrows and started walking in his direction. “Noah? Are you hurt?” you searched for any injuries but didn’t find any. You took his face in your hands and that’s when the first sob left his throat.

“What happened? You’re scaring me Noah.” you wanted to help him, but you didn’t know how.

He lowered his head onto your shoulder and gave you enough space for you to reach around his body and close the door. He cried and his dirty hands gripped the fabric of your sweatshirt like his life depended on it.

“Come on.” you started leading him to sit down on your couch. His body was heavy against yours and he smelled like fuel.

“It was a gas station fire.” his words were muffled because his head was buried in the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything else, but you knew.

“And you got flashbacks.” he just nodded against your skin and you tightened your arms around him.

You let him cry as long as he needed to. When you didn’t hear any more sobs and cries you slowly lifted him off of you and helped him out of the big fireproof jacket.

His eyes were red and full of fear. You were staring at each other before he started talking.

“It was like I was back in the factory. I couldn’t move. I saw bodies laying on the floor. Nick was yelling at me but I couldn’t hear him. It was just like the nightmares.”

“Do you have nightmares about that call?” and he just nodded, you didn't know that. “Did anyone get hurt today?” and he shook his head no.

“It’s okay to have flashbacks after a traumatic experience. How did you handle your emotions at the call?”

“When Nick came and shook my arm it was like he got me out of the trance. I didn’t mess anything up, I got back in action straight after that. It felt like hours, but I think it was just a few seconds.”

“Okay.” you reached out for his hand to give him a supportive squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. But I still advise you to reach out to someone else from my department to talk about that call.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and didn’t understand what you were saying. “What do you mean someone else?”

“If you would feel more comfortable talking with anyone else, you can.”

“No, no, no. It’s not you, I didn’t want to talk about it at all. With anyone.”

“Okay. But I still want you to know that there are other options than me.”

“No, I want it to be you.” he held your gaze when he said that, almost as if it had deeper meaning.

Because it had, he wanted it to be you who would comfort him when he was having nightmares or flashbacks like this.

“Okay.” you whispered.

You sat in silence, facing each other and both in your own minds.

Noah couldn’t help himself when he reached out for you and wrapped you in his arms. You felt the strong grip he had on you, like if you would just disappear. You hugged him back. First mistake.

He held you and didn’t want to let go. He rubbed his nose along your neck, it was ticklish, but you let him. Second mistake.

His nose moved from your neck to your jaw and then he grabbed your face with both of his hands. His forehead was touching yours and his eyes were closed as if he was ready to say something.

“I can’t help myself, I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I have the nightmare and wake up I wish you were there to hold me just like you did now. What are you doing to me?” he whispered and kept his eyes closed. You didn’t know what to say, all of this felt wrong but right at the same time.

You wish you were there for his nightmares too, so he would fall back asleep in your arms with you whispering sweet nothings to him.

This time it was you who initiated the kiss. Noah didn’t waste any time and positioned you in his lap. His hands didn’t hold back and started exploring your body. You felt heat everywhere he touched you. The kiss was messy, you both wanted dominance.

“This is wrong, you shouldn’t be doing this.” you heard voices in your head, but you pushed in the back of your mind and paid more attention to Noah's muscular chest that you felt under your hands.

He was dirty and you could taste sweat on his lips, but you didn’t mind. He kissed you like he needed all of your kisses to stay alive. And you kept kissing him back.

So wrong.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95

If you want to be on my taglst click here

[leilll]

11 APR 2025

The Art of disappearing..

Trying to figure myself out…

It’s been more than half my life now, and I’m still not done.

It all started with PTSD and a deep depression, the kind of trauma that shakes your whole being, leaves nothing standing. I like to describe it as something that wipes everything out and leaves nothing behind.

Most of my beliefs feel shaky now, like there’s a clear "before" and "after" in my life.

But the weird part? I can't even remember what life was like "before."

Was I happy? Content? I honestly don't know.

I struggle to let my feelings out.

My thoughts are all over the place. I can’t organize my thoughts at all. My mind is a mess.

And yet, I talk a lot. I’m one of those people who can go on for hours about random stuff—but when it comes to my actual feelings, my real thoughts? Total silence.

Everyone who knows me has struggled to keep up with the way I tell stories. Nothing ever flows in a straight line. And I’ve struggled too—just to be accepted.

Sometimes I write like it’s a silent scream for help.

Other times I write just to convince myself that if it’s written, it’s done with.

But... is anything ever really done with?

It’s been a long road, and along the way, I’ve lost a lot.

Dreams, goals, people. they’ve all fallen away, one by one.

That’s the part that stings the most.

My relationships with people were always built on what I showed them.

And the moment I got tired of pretending and let even a little of the real me show… that was the end (GAME OVER).

Rejection doesn’t always come with harsh words or being abandoned in your darkest moments.

Sometimes it’s just in the look in someone’s eyes and then, boom, it’s over.

I’ve spent years battling depression.

Sometimes I fight, sometimes I let it win.

I developed a bunch of coping mechanisms over time.

At first, I just let the depression drown me, like a slow death with no actual dying.

Then I switched to keeping myself constantly busy, just enough to wear my brain out till it shut off on its own.

Those were my “glory years”, three years of nothing but studying, working, and sometimes the gym.

Then came another three where I crashed again, slipped back into depression, lost everything, all over again.

People only saw the strong version of me, while I was falling apart piece by piece.

Did I completely fall apart? I’m not even sure anymore.

I’ve given everything for just one tiny moment of real happiness… but I never seem to get there.

I honestly don’t remember the last time I had a normal, healthy connection with anyone.

Even with the people I lived with I’d go days, sometimes months, barely saying more than “morning” or “goodnight,” or just paying what needed to be paid.

In the last ten years out of my not -yet- thirty years of life my biggest talent has been disappearing.

I disappear so well that sometimes people forget I was ever there.

Like maybe I’m just a made-up person in someone’s head.

Nothing has ever come easy in my life.

And sometimes, that makes me want to just break down and cry.

Antidepressants? I’ve been through a whole shelf of them. Didn’t do much.

It’s always been hard to explain what I’m going through.

That constant feeling of being misunderstood slowly morphs into something worse, The feeling of being invisible.

So many sleepless nights where I wanted nothing but death.

The nightmares won’t stop.

There’s no such thing as peaceful sleep.

Only the sleep of the anxious.

And then you get the “you’re overreacting” crew. who mock or downplay your pain.

How’s someone who sleeps 7–8 hours a night gonna understand what it’s like to barely sleep 2 hours, to go days without proper rest, afraid of falling asleep because of the nightmares, living a life that’s just nonstop headaches and exhaustion?

At first, your therapist tells you that depression hits smart people the hardest.

But after a while, when your focus is shot, your brain’s all foggy, and you can’t remember basic stuff—you start doubting if you’re smart at all.

You start redefining who you are—with no achievements to hang onto.

Can you see what depression does to the people you love?

Honestly? Most of the time, no.

Because the longer it lasts, the more you learn how to hide it—how to play a version of yourself that others are comfortable with.

All just to avoid the constant “talk” about how you’re feeling.

Those same old words that never really describe anything.

They don’t help.

Does this ever end?

Is there even a life without this damn depression?

I don’t know.

And I don’t have much hope.

Sometimes, I wonder if it ever did go away, would I even know how to live without it?

I don’t remember what life before it felt like.

I don’t know what it’s like to feel calm.

All I know is jaw clenching, and teeth grinding day and night,

avoiding family, friends, and anyone who loves me, curling into myself like I’m trying to disappear.

Of course I write all of this in English, to make it feel a little less harsh, like always. That’s one of my talents too, I guess.

[maijobi]

back to you

dabi x reader

summary: when things don’t go well in your relationship, you find it best to end it... 

a/n: it has a good ending I promise. I did kinda hurt myself writing this I don't even know why. but sad dabi really does make me feel things.

———————————————————————

your hands were in your hair, doing your best to not pull every strand out of your scalp. your eyes were closed and you were doing your best to calm yourself down, counting down from ten.

“dabi, we have had this conversation for over a hundred times. you can’t control me. and why can’t you just trust me for once?”, you said, finally  opening your eyes and looking at dabi.

“fine”, he said clenching his jaw. “go. let all of those people see you. go. you know what, don’t come back tonight will you?”

“stop overreacting”, you said, breathing out heavily. “I'm sick and tired of you constantly telling me what to do. I'm your partner, not your child. I know my limits and I know what to look out for. and who are you to tell me to not come back tonight? this isn’t just your place. we live here with a bunch of losers, what makes you think you’re more special than them? what makes you think you overpower them? what makes you think you have more to say than us?”

he took a few steps closer to you and looked down at you with a wrinkled nose. “I just don’t like my partner going out where there are people that will look at them. I don’t like how you can’t keep your mouth shut around people and let them flirt with you. I can’t stand you going to places and not knowing your limit, when you claim you do.”

“just because I let people talk to me, doesn’t mean I'm letting them flirt with me?”, you confusedly said. “oh I apologize dabi. I apologize that I do not prefer to burn people to the ground when they give you a genuine smile. I apologize that I couldn’t become as great as you”, you sarcastically said while throwing your hands in the air and then dropping them. “do you hear how stupid you sound? we have this discussion almost every day, but I can’t seem to get some senses into you. I'm tired of this, dabi. I'm tired of having to explain myself every day when I know I'm not doing anything wrong. I can’t talk to anyone before I have you breathing against my neck telling me to stay away from that person.”

“sweetheart, dollface, sugar”, he said with gritted teeth, taking steps closer to you and holding on of your hand and placing it over his heart. “don’t make this harder for the both of us and just don’t go outside will you?”

you pulled your arm away from his grip. “not this time dabi. I'm sick of this. sick of you wanting to control everything I do. you wanting to have a dominant role in this relationship. why is that even needed? why can’t you treat me as an equal? can’t you for once just let me live? I'm tired, I'm tired of telling myself that you’ll change when you don’t”, you said, finally showing the frustration on your face. 

“and you think I'm having fun?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “you think I enjoy seeing you having fun with someone else? it hurts you just as much as it does me doll”, he said, raising his voice. “it’s also hard for me to see you flirting back with other people! know your fucking limits”, he said placing his hand on your chin and pulling it up slightly.

“don’t act like you are right here”, you sat, pulling your chin away from his grip and taking a step back. “for once. for fucking once accept that you can’t control everything I do and that you can’t overpower me. respect goes both ways, but I'm not seeing any on your accord.”

“now you’re just talking bullshit”, he said in a loud voice, laughing to shake off his frustration. “what does this even mean?! what is it that you’re trying to accomplish here? what is it that you so desperately want, huh? attention from someone else? if you’re not even gonna listen to my feelings, how am I supposed to take yours in account? you only do as you please and where does that bring us, huh?! where the fuck-!”

“that maybe perhaps we’re not meant for each other”, you interrupted him. “that maybe we’re just not fit for each other.”

his face dropped and you saw every emotion pass on his face. he was confused. he was confused as to the words you had just dared to speak, something he didn’t even think about once. to him this was normal, to him this was behavior that should be present in a relationship. to him, fighting everyday seemed normal. but his motives for this relationship seemed to be totally different from yours.

“you must be kidding no”, you said with a distressed smile. “h-how can you just easily say something like that?”

“because you made sure I did. if you just for once tried to understand me, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.”

he walked closer to you and held your shouders. “you’re kidding right?”

“i’m not, dabi. I'm being very much serious right now. how can I continue this when my feelings are being invalidated on a daily basis? how am I supposed to respect you further when you literally treat me like your pet?”, you said a brushing off his grip on your shoulder. “I can’t do this when all of this only brings me anxiety and constant stress?”

he looked at you, lost in another world progressing what you had just said. it surely couldn’t have been true, you were joking right? but the expression on your face made him his eyes go larger and his mouth almost hung open. “y-you can’t be serious”, he said with a smile, but that soon dropped when he shook your head.

“i’m not”, you said turning around and walking to the door.

you didn’t turn around to look back at him, and he made no attempt to stop you. perhaps he hadn’t even believe that you actually left. or maybe he was just waiting for you to finally leave him. maybe this was for the better you thought, but for dabi this was a whole different experience. 

he was convinced you were coming back that night, he convinced himself that you would. so when you didn’t he totally lost it. the person that barely texted you had spammed you with messages and missed calls, leaving behind various emotions. he didn't know what he was feeling. this was all new to him.

dollface, you’re not serious right?

you’re coming back tonight right?

I'm sure you are...

you didn’t take me seriously, did you?

please come back.

please look at your messages.

it’s past midnight, please come back.

don’t scare me like this. just come back already. 

please...

you looked at your phone, tapping the corners or your phone. you decided to not answer, but that left you in a weird state of mind. you didn’t know what you were feeling. were you happy? sad? relieved? more stressed? you didn’t even know. you felt numb. 

you found your way to an old friend, asking if you could stay over until you figured out what you would do to survive. you locked your phone and threw it next to you on the bed. you allowed yourself to fall with your back on the mattress. you’d feel better in the morning, is what you tried to convince yourself. but would you really?

you woke up with a heavy headache. it was hard to even sit upright. but when you opened your eyes it was still dark. there was heavy rain outside and falling back asleep seemed like an impossible thing right now. 

you tapped on your phone letting it light up. 

3 a.m.

you sighed. what were you gonna do now? you felt too stressed to even close an eye. you didn’t know what you were supposed to do. you loved him and he probably loved you too, but this couldn’t go on forever.

you looked at your screen again, not missing all the messages he had left behind.

please I know I fucked up, but please just come back.

you can’t be doing this.

and many more messages like that had filled your phone. you frustratingly brushed your hand through your hair and sighed loudly. it felt wrong. it felt wrong to have left like that in the middle of an argument. but at the same time this had happened so many times that you couldn’t just do nothing. 

you rose from your bed, still not answering any of his messages. your phone rung every five minutes, but you just didn’t pick it up. you walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water only to leave it on the counter after seeing his new messages.

I really need you.

I don’t need anybody else.

just you. so please, please come back.

you blinked once, then twice and then many more times. dabi had really said he needed you. the independent guy, who would refuse help from anyone had said he needed you. you weren’t sure what to do. you paced around the kitchen, biting down on your nail. your phone made a sound again.

I just really... can’t live without you.

you sighed loudly and with a quick steps you walked to the door. you put on your shoes and ran out the door taking the keys with you. the rain splashed on your skin, clothes and hair, making you soaked in an instant as you ran down the street. but you didn’t care. the only thing that ran through your head was wanting to see dabi. wanting to see him share his feelings and wanting to see him need you. 

even the bad memories had a good ending for you. every time you fought, you’d fix it together. so why couldn’t that be done now? why did you have to act so selfishly again? you knew you were partially right, but at the same time you knew this wasn’t right. all your memories with him flooded in your mind and it made you run faster.

your feet dragged you to the place you had thought he was, because you knew he wouldn’t be at the residence. he would be at the place that caused his trauma, but at the same time was his most visited place. 

the forest were he had supposedly died. the forest where his dad had refused to come to. the forest with his last memories of home.

you stopped in track when you saw his figure. his back facing you and his head looking up. he was wearing a front zip hoodie with the cap over his head. allowing the droplets to hit his face. he had heard something so he turned around.

when he saw you standing there in the rain he took one step and reached out his hand, but stopped when you only stared at him. you were out of breath, breathing in and out heavily as your chest heaved. 

you looked at him, seeing the sad expression on his face. you shook your head and started walking, but before you knew it you were running to him. you ran and when you reached him, you threw yourself on him, holding him like you never did before.

he was in shock, not being able to do anything, just allowing you to slowly pull him down for the hug. when you pulled away you held his face and searched it, but before he could say anything you crashed your lips against his, tasting the rain on them. it was still pouring and this might have been the closest thing to an actual romantic scene the two of you had. 

your lips danced together and you melt in each others touch. he finally allowed himself to be embraced and snaked his arms around your back to deepen the kiss. he pushed you against him and moved his hands to your neck to pull you closer. your hands slid down and rested on his chest.

when he pulled away he looked you in your eyes. water droplets were falling on your face and he made an attempt to wipe them away though the rain hadn't stopped. you wanted to say something, but he shut you up by pulling you in once more and giving you a small, but soft kiss.

“i’m sorry”, he said, pulling you flush against him to hug you. “I'm sorry for always wanting to control you. I was just scared.”

you slid your arm around his waist and hugged him back. “scared of what?”

“of you leaving”, he whispered just loud enough to hear above the splashing raindrops. “I haven’t been open about my feelings. I just didn’t know how to. but I was raised with the thought of rejection and people leaving me behind. I wasn’t used to all of this. I wasn’t used to having all this affection, so I was scared you’d leave just like the rest.”

you tightened your grip on him. “I don’t have a reason to leave. I just need you to be open with me like just now. so we can work things out together”, you said, looking up so that you were facing him.

he looked down and a soft smile formed on his face. he kissed you again and again and again until completely devouring your lips on his, not giving you a chance to pull away. but that wasn’t needed. you had understood the whole situation and the both of you were able to figure it out together. many ways had opened for the two of you and the both of you have yet to learn so much about each other. but you were both willing to change yourself for each other. because even if things weren't always great, the two of you would find their ways back to each other. 

[there-will-be-a-way]

Okay. My appointment with J.

It was really hard in the beginning because when my new therapist called her yesterday, she didn't understand what he wanted her to do :') So I had to explain it to her and we talked back and forth, because she spoke to her colleagues about it and they aren't a fan of my new therapist because he's very, idk, proactive and firm in his approach? And I can definitely see how other patients might not get along with him (hell, if I would have had that first interview a year or two ago I would have come out bawling, thinking he's severely lacking compassion lol), because he's veeeery upfront. But I appreciate this so much!! Because I have a head as thick as the walls of a bunker so I kinda need a bulldozer of a therapist tbh, which he is 🤣

Anyway, J is open-minded so she trusted my judgement. But then the next problem was that she said it's unrealistic for me to move out in two or three weeks because getting a spot in an residential group is as hard as getting a therapy spot. She said it would take like a year. So at this point I just started silently crying while staring on the table, completely avoiding eye contact, not really responding to her questions. In my head I was all like, damn, I had hope and now she took it from me. How foolish of me to believe I can get out of this situation. I was so naive and childish.

But after a while she said, well we could bulldoze our way through this in two or three weeks, but that she and her team believe such rapid changes are usually not ideal for trauma survivors to which I replied, crying, "I've been trying to run away ever since I was child. I've been ready for this ever since then." So that was only slightly embarrassing and dramatic of me.

But anyway, couples of hours ago she texted me that she got an appointment for me at a place that offers assisted living. Next Friday. Of course that doesn't mean they will take me in quick or that they even take me in at all, but it's something.

And I'm really proud of myself for not giving in and not letting J's inicial wariness change my opinion on my new therapist or my plans. I have to hold onto that. He has probably done this with many other patients. If he says I have to get out so quickly, there will be a way to do it.

Also, J said she would take me in if her son didn't live with her rn. 🥺 I feel like I manipulated her or something or am not grateful enough for how much she helps me. But those feelings of guilt are also going in my safe.

Despite the decision to not tell my parents, I actually told my mom 😬 Only that J and I are searching for a residential group for me. Because they'll get a letter about it anyway, sometime. About finances and stuff. And if they refuse to pay, I'll go to court. But I really hope this won't be the case. I didn't tell my mother they'll probably have to pay for me living there yet. Only said that for therapy it's good to leave the environment where you lived when you were sick and that I want to live with others to be more social. She had a neutral reaction.

Edit: Told my father as well. Surprisingly supportive which makes me feel guilty and question if maybe I'm overreacting, aaaah. BUT I know I need to live somewhere where I can be more independent. I hold onto that truth.

[roselightfairy]

Fic Recs: L/G and Thranduil

@enide-s-dear and @katajainen both requested this list – something with Thranduil not being, to quote Enide, “a huge racist bitch.” I tend to seek out good-Thranduil fics when I can, so I’m happy to compile this list! Again, obligatory reminder that this list is not exhaustive and only the fics that I can think of in the time of compilation: I know there is other great stuff out there!

 ...

A matter of pride by Enide_Dear

Summary: Gimli gets abducted by bandits when visiting Mirkwood. Thranduil does not take lightly on the hospitality and protection of his kingdom getting violated. That is all the lies behind his slight overreactions.

…

My favorite Thranduil-Gimli relationship dynamic, without question, is when they both cling to the pretense of disliking each other but secretly everyone knows they actually like each other a lot, and this fic delivers. I have a known soft spot for damsel!Gimli and berserker!Legolas, which both play in this story, but Thranduil is the real star, and I love him dearly.

I Walked With You (Once Upon A Dream) by The_Dwelf

Summary: Kori is just a regular Dwarf, except, he isn't. He is Gimli's reicarnation, he has been dreaming of his past life since he was a child, and now that he's old enough to leave Erebor, he's certain of his condition. With unexpected help from a very shocked Elvenking, he will find a way to rejoin Legolas, at any costs. Angst, fluff, porn and (spoiler?) a happy ending.

…

I’m recommending this fic for so much more than just the reclist prompt – it’s a wonderful reincarnation AU complete with fluff, angst, delicious hurt/comfort, and just a little smut, for spice. But Thranduil is amazing – and in fact the driver of the plot here, the one trying his hardest to reunite the two lovers – no matter what he has to do in the process.

Northern Babylon by icarus_chained

Summary: After four years fighting the war in the south, Gimli and Legolas have come back to their home city of New Rhovanion changed, and perhaps for the better. Gimli tries to make Elven Councillor Thranduil understand this, and understand that maybe there's hope for more than just Gimli and Legolas as well.

…

So I love this fic for the combination steampunk/solarpunk setting (I might be wrong about those things; I don’t really know aesthetics) and the AU just a tilt off from canon but still following the same general trajectory – the worldbuilding is amazing and I wish there were 100k of it. But this fic as it is is amazing – a serious, hopeful, painful conversation between Gimli and Thranduil in which Thranduil’s history and trauma is palpable to the reader even if we don’t know much about how it would have played out in this story. And a conversation in which they come around to grudging respect for one another.

INSIDE THE STONE by rubyelf

Summary: As close as the elf and dwarf have become, Legolas always seems to keep his secrets. A dangerous encounter while traveling in Mirkwood gives Gimli a chance to have his questions answered... if he wants to.

...

This is one of my favorite specific tropes - Legolas and Gimli are returning to someone’s home, and one of them is injured. This time it’s Legolas in Mirkwood, and the process of healing leads to some...revelations. Of a sexual nature. Read for a particular characterization of Legolas and a Thranduil who doesn’t quite get his son but cares nonetheless, and thinks Gimli is good for him. :) Do mind the tags, though; the consent is . . . it doesn’t cross the line to dubcon for me, but it isn’t perfectly straightforward, either.

Precious Childhood Memories by Enide_Dear

Summary: Thranduil and Glóin find they have certains things in common, such as an appreciation for fine gems, fine drink and the finely tuned fatherly mortification of their offspring

…

This fic. This! Fic! I couldn’t decide whether to put it on the funny list, the Thranduil list, or the meet-the-family list, but I finally decided on this one just because – way to smash the trope of Thranduil and Glóin making the single exception to elf- or dwarf-hatred and instead let them bond over their sons’ misery. It will have you howling.

Love and Fear by ginogollum, starlightwalking

Summary: Legolas rescued Gimli from an orc attack years before they were officially introduced. Gimli remembers every moment of their first meeting. Legolas...doesn't.

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This is not really about Thranduil, per se – it’s more about a delightful reimagining of Legolas and Gimli and the situations in which they might have seen one another before the Quest – and about the delightful sweetness and powerful emotion of them coming to know and to love one another for real. But Thranduil makes an appearance here and there, as a cordial enough king and a deeply loving father, which is my favorite way to have him. <3

Father, Captain, and King by Thundera Tiger

Summary: Thranduil fills many roles, but one summer night, he finds himself assuming the role he loves best and gets least. Written for father's day, here's a quick look at the relationship between Mirkwood's greatest king and its most famous prince.

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So this isn’t Legolas/Gimli. In fact, Gimli doesn’t appear at all – and thus this fic doesn’t really deal with Thranduil’s prejudices, or lack thereof. But I had to include it because it’s one of my favorite Legolas-and-Thranduil fics out there – a really deep, complicated exploration of what living in an ongoing siege does by necessity to relationships, and the ways that love and care persist through these struggles – even if they do have to grow a little twisted. I recommend all of Thundera Tiger’s fic, but any pre-series Mirkwood fic deals with this same thing in such loving nuance.

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If you liked any of these fics, please let the author know with a comment if you have capacity! Also, I encourage you to reblog this list so that we can spread the good word. :)

[mrfrogmouth]

Supergirl 6x08: Thoughts, Defense, and Criticism

I will say the episode mildly exceeded my expectations. I was very please to see them actually exploring trauma in a semi-realistic way.

I’ll start with my most positive— and most widely agreed with opinion: that Danvers sisters scene kicked ass. It is the kind of content that the show has been sorely missing. From Alex’s failure to open the wine bottle to Kara’s breakdown, there wasn’t a single beat that didn’t work in that scene. I LOVED Melissa Benoist’s performance— the halting, hesitating speech and lack of eye contact— you could feel just how painful it was to talk about the phantom zone, let alone admit she was still afraid. Chyler Leigh played her part wonderfully— the care with which she spoke every word just oozed love and worry. The casting of those two together was just a miracle.

(More under the cut. A lot more.)

There was some awkward dialogue (did they think the audience wouldn’t know who a reporter named Iris was? They had to include the full, hyphenated last name?) but honestly it was pretty good for a supergirl episode, so I can’t really complain.

Melissa Benoist is just a powerhouse of an actor and it showed this week. I could go on and on about her perfomance but there’s a lot more to say about the episode so I’ll just say she’s the bomb and move on.

Brainy and Nia were delightful as always, providing much of the humor of the episode and still shouldering some of the more dramatic beats. Brainy’s welcome home hug for Kara was something I felt in my soul don’t @ me.

The Nia/Lena friendship. I didn’t expect it, but I am certainly enjoying it. Hoping to see them hang out more (though maybe with a different topic than dead moms)

Lena continues to be a seedless addition to the Superfriends. Her leaving is, however, one of the few major issues I have with the episode. It’s weird. And random. From a purely character standpoint I don’t understand why she wouldn’t even wait a week for Kara to get settled back in before leaving. From an overall plot standpoint, I just don’t care about the Lena mom arc. I never have, and honestly I think there are better uses for her screen time— then again, removing her opens up that time for other characters and let’s the writers move along her character development offscreen— it worked for Mon El!

But seriously, i don’t know if Lena is going to just disappear or if we’re going to have a separated sub plot of her doing things and I don’t really care. I just want her to do something that I have any vague interest in, like have her finally pay back that debt to Andrea from 5x01 (did that even still happen? They called Kara a Pulitzer winner this episode.) Or have her work with Nia to track down information about interpreting her magic dreams, or go on a team bonding subplot with Alex where they get over the mind control and attempted murder via satellite thing (maybe talk about Alex’s experience with Myriad, or maybe, you know, have her resolve anything with Kara. Try and bridge icy awkward gap that happens when you realize your best friend was a lying asshole and you slightly overreact by trying to make it physically impossible for anyone to be mean to you ever again.

And speaking of Andrea— I’m actually really enjoying her character for the first time since crisis. She was fun in a way that made me laugh and worked well to both further herself as a character and push the plot. I’m genuinely excited for her scenes next episode. And they wrote all this without changing her at all as a character. Something just clicked this time, I’m not sure if it was how unstable Kara was so her aggression was actually effective or that her subplot actually had consequence this time, but it was nice.

And Zor-El was there, I guess.

I have, personally, been against any Kryptonian resurrections since season 1. Supergirl had their go of it, and it worked very well, and they used up their slot. Reign earned an exception for being a bamf and giving us what the best fight scene supergirl has ever had. The other worldkillers did not. And Argo made me unreasonably angry, especially when it was so painfully wasted.

Zor-El is just the new, shiny version of Argo and equally useless. (Also, Argo is alive again? Did we know that?) This is not to say I didn’t enjoy him at all, this episode is the first that I’ve liked him. But still. That one throw away comment about the phone calls and superhearing being hard to deal with could have led to a really interesting conversation with Kara: tackling the really unpleasant parts of her childhood, the difficulties she has pretending to be human, and ultimately the pain and suffering her caused by sending her off, alone, to care for an infant on a foreign planet. They knew it would give her powers; did they know what those powers would mean? Did they care?

I wanted that conversation, and I wanted the others, Nia in particular, to hear it. (Nia grew up a half-alien in Parthas, Kara grew up with the DEO hanging over her head like an ax— that difference has always intrigued me.)

Zor-El and Sesame Street was sweet, though I don’t know where he found the time to binge that and learn to control his powers all while Kara was still asleep.

Kara saying Clark used to beg to bring her to the fortress is a blatant retcon of seasons 1 and 2, but I think the writers make copies of the show bible just to set them on fire each episode.

And again— very interesting possible conversations. What does Zor think of his so very not Kryptonian-Kryptonian nephew? What does he think of Kara’s distant relationship with him? What does he think of Clark dumping Kara on the Danvers (for very arguable reasons) and then barely acknowledging her existence (for considerably less arguable, I’d totally in-character reasons)? What does he think of Clark’s data crystal that built a whole fortress, while his contained the recipe for his bio-weapon and a hologram of his wife? (What kind of person sends their teenage daughter off with a baby and a bio-weapon? The fuck did he think she’d need that for?) Was it so important to him to preserve his work?

Would it KILL THEM to have one conversation acknowledging Astra and Non’s existence. Just to explain how Kara knew her father was responsible for Krypton’s destruction. Could I have that instead of Oscar the trash monster? (Trash robot? Trash robot monster?)

Overall, I enjoyed the episode— it was better than I expected. I’m cautiously optimistic for next week.

And one more thing:

Where the fuck is Lex?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been praying for his character to go away for over a year, but like???

His abuse victim just left him.

The abuse victim who he torments for the fun and attention of it.

That victim.

Just told him he doesn’t get any more attention.

5. Episodes. Ago.

And he didn’t blow up half the city?

No “Look at me! Look at me!” destructive rampage?

Are they building up for something? They haven’t even mentioned his name. Even if he doesn’t lash out, he’s still a supervillain. Who’s got all this power and money, and is in controlling of a bunch of government stuff.

Idk.

Just.

Feels like someone should get on that.

[dgcatanisiri]

I have historically shied away from using the word, because it always feels like an overreaction, because, hey, I can power through, and it’s not a big deal, it’s not like we’re talking about something that genuinely makes me relive any actual trauma, right? 

But... I think about the physical response I have, the depths that my anger and frustration go to, which I can often admit can hit excessive at times... I start thinking that it’s accurate to say that Liara is a trigger for bodily autonomy for me.

Like... Peebee and Cora both suffer from a lot of the same issues that Liara does in terms of focus, but neither of them draw the same sense of ire from me. They both have attention in the narrative that reaches excessive (particularly at the expense of other characters) - someone timed their character/romance content, and the two of them had the most in the game, while Gil (my preferred romance of my options) had the least. Peebee’s introduction is sitting on Ryder, while there’s the come on with her in the escape pod that I would legitimately refuse to even get in before it happens. Cora is... Well, I’ve been over how I don’t think she should have been a romance option at all because it just muddies her character arc.

And yet neither of them elicit the same kind of frustration I get with Liara.

Because with Liara... It is mandatory that we meld with her in ME1, multiple times. And if you even try to duck out of it, she badgers Shepard into it. The meld is explicitly said to be a part of the asari reproductive process, so we have Liara effectively coercing Shepard into having sex with her, and in front of others. Potentially multiple times. 

Like... I’ve been public about how the big reason I don’t care for Bull’s romance is the fact that, being asexual, being specifically a sex-averse asexual, bondage is catapulting over my line at mach three. So what is effectively what amounts to public sex that has been coerced? Same damn thing.

Except the narrative thinks it’s fine. Hell, going off the damn Genesis comics, Shepard is supposed to LIKE it (which... NO, and fuck you BioWare).

The meld in general is deeply uncomfortable for me, considering that I honestly wouldn’t mind meld with people I consider close enough to be family, blood or not. And yet it’s mandated that Shepard do this with someone who is, in essence, a total stranger. Multiple times. In front of several people. 

And then there’s the recovery of Shepard’s body. Which she sets off to do, wholly on her own, without even telling any of Shepard’s other friends. And proceeds to do so, only to hand it off to Cerberus, so they can perform their Frankensteinian mad science to bring Shepard back.

All because, and I’m using her words here, she “couldn’t let [Shepard] go.”

SHE decides what is to be done with Shepard. For HER. No care or consideration of what their wishes would be, she does it because she doesn’t want Shepard to be gone. Not even that she believes Shepard is the best chance for the galaxy, but because SHE wants Shepard alive. Uncharitably, but it comes across like saving Shepard is a choice she makes in the hopes that they will proceed to hold her close, declare their undying love for her, and they can run off into the sunset with a horde of blue babies at their side.

And the narrative again sees nothing wrong with it. In fact, it rewards her for it - she’s the only reunion in ME2 that results in a hug, no matter relationship status. She’s a stationary reunion we can have at any time, unlike Ashley/Kaidan, who get just a brief cameo. The one response that even approaches being upset about this act focuses only on the fact that she kept her involvement from Shepard, not what she had done specifically, and not just loops back around to the friendly “let me know if I can help” exit line, but also is “bugged” to not be accessible unless you take it the first time it appears. She gets a DLC that features her and Shepard running around and bickering like an old married couple. She joins back up with the Normandy and is immediately treated as Shepard’s XO. Multiple points in ME3 feature her as the person who Shepard can unburden themselves to - the ONLY person they can unburden themselves to. If you don’t take the opportunities to do so with her, there is no answer or equivalent with any other character.

Yes, obviously, we’re talking game mechanics and production costs with creating multiple branching conversations. I understand the real world rationale for these decisions. It does not change the fact that it still pushes this character who crosses my boundary lines into the spotlight.

Like... I have seen the negative consequences of someone making a choice for themselves because they couldn’t let someone they loved go. And while it obviously worked out fine in the games, worked out for the best in the case of Shepard, I saw the negative side effects of the idea of keeping someone alive for the sake of that .0001% that they’ll recover. The reality of the 99.9999% chance that they don’t recover and spend the rest of their lives in a situation that I classify as more a living death than anything else.

And yet the narrative only rewards Liara for her selfishness. Not once does anything in the writing stop to consider that anyone could view her actions as having been done for selfish reasons that came at Shepard’s expense, at the expense of whatever Shepard may have wanted - again, yeah, maybe it turned out for the best in terms of the galactic situation, but that doesn’t mean that it was RIGHT for her to do this. A positive result does not change the selfish motivations that led to the act being done.

Miranda, at least, calls out her hypocrisy of wanting to put a control chip in Shepard’s head after her father spent his life trying to control her. It’s part of Miranda’s character arc that she viewed rebuilding Shepard as a project, more her molding a work of art rather than a medical procedure on another person. But Liara... She just takes responsibility for consenting to this and no one ever asks “hey, Shepard, how do YOU feel about this friend of yours giving the go ahead on resurrecting you in defiance of all known science and nature?”

And all this... I wouldn’t mind it so much if we could just CALL OUT Liara’s actions. If the narrative would properly acknowledge “hey... this was kinda fucked up that she went after Shepard’s body like this wholly on her own, and then gave the go ahead to resurrect them for the chance to get them back,” I’d be a lot more okay with Liara. I still would keep her at arm’s length, but I’d feel like the game wasn’t gaslighting me, telling me that her actions are only to be rewarded, what’s your problem with her, here, we’re gonna immerse you in Liara content and help you get past these silly “issues” you have.

So, yeah. I have spent years trying to avoid using the word, given how loaded a term it’s become with how dismissive people have approached it, but... It is a trigger for me. Liara, as a character, triggers issues of bodily autonomy for me. She makes a choice for Shepard that is based on what SHE wants, not Shepard, and the narrative proceeds to reward her and frame her decisions and her actions as right and proper.

So for her to be the big reveal of the first trailer for the next Mass Effect is... NOT something I celebrate.

[iihappydaysii]

Did you know…? Jamie and Lord John have kissed twice. 

The time everyone talks about at Helwater and then they kissed again in Jamaica.

*clears throat* In defense of this, I shall make the following case.

(standard disclaimer to not take anything I say that seriously. also, thanks for the beta-like help @mistresspandorawritesthings )

. . . 

“Oh, God, John!” he [Jamie] said.

I stopped dead, halted much more by the tone of that voice than by the words—it was broken with an emotion I had seldom heard from him.

Walking very quietly, I drew closer. Framed in the half-open door was Jamie, head bowed as he pressed Lord John Grey tight in fervent embrace.

My very first instinct was to think Jamie is hugging John, which he is, in part… of course, “embrace” defined as “an act of holding someone closely in one's arms” and “fervent” defined as “having or displaying a passionate intensity.” There is also little reason for Jamie’s head to be bowed if they are hugging. But if he’s leaning down to a kiss…

(If you strongly believe Jamie was merely holding John, please carry on and disregard the following, but if you want to hear my argument that they were kissing, please continue on this journey with me.)

I stood still, completely incapable of movement or speech. - That’s quite dramatic, Claire, for two men, who you know are friends, who are just hugging, yet perfectly normal if you just caught your husband kissing a man.

As I watched, they broke apart. Jamie’s back was turned to me, but Lord John faced the hallway. - If they were hugging it’s possible that John could have seen her at any point, but if they were kissing, he likely had his eyes closed and it would take them breaking apart for her to be worried that he would see her, which is what happens here

He [John] was staring at Jamie, and on his face was such a look of naked hunger - This doesn’t strongly support my argument other than if Jamie just kissed him you bet he’d have that look on his face, but mostly I just wanted to include it because John loves Jamie so much.

My hands were cold and I felt slightly sick. What in the name of God was going on? - If Claire is this upset about a hug, I don’t know how she’s ever functioned a day in her life. Why is a hug making her sick? Even if John looking at Jamie like that is such a big deal, if anything she should be thinking “hey, maybe I should tell Jamie that his friend is into him.”

The Governor’s shock at learning that I was Jamie’s wife was now at least partially explained. - If they were just hugging and they were just friends and John’s feelings were unrequited then nothing about what just happened would make Claire think “it must’ve been a shock for him.”  The shock is, of course, because Claire was supposed to be dead, but Claire doesn’t know this. It seems that she assumes John and Jamie were lovers and that John's shock at her identity is because he was under the impression that Jamie wasn't interested in women.

Claire goes on to repeat and connect two separate things Jamie said to her earlier in the book… He was the Governor of Ardsmuir Prison and D’ye ken what men in prison do? (yes, Jamie is referring to men having sex with each other in prison. They discuss it briefly.)

I did know, but I would’ve sworn on Brianna’s head that Jamie didn’t; hadn’t, couldn’t, under any circumstances whatever. - This demonstrates that Claire’s belief that Jamie wouldn’t be with a man is really, really strong, which is important to what comes next.

At least I would’ve sworn that before tonight - So, a simple hug makes her question such a strong belief that she knows is rooted in Jamie’s trauma regarding BlackJack? Yes, she’s seen John’s face with its naked hunger but not Jamie’s. Knowing this situation, why does she not jump to unrequited on John’s part if they were just hugging? Why is what happened making her question a deeply held belief? A hug is common gesture, even amongst men, but a kiss, especially a fervent one, would absolutely make her wonder at the possibility.

I closed my eyes, chest heaving, and tried not to think of what I had seen - The horrors…. of two men… hugging? What is she trying not to see here? Again, with a hug that’s dramatic as hell, but a kiss between her husband and another man? Makes perfect sense.

I couldn’t, of course. And yet, the more I thought of it, the more impossible it seemed. - Why would it be impossible that Jamie is hugging a friend? One he likely hasn’t seen in a really long time at that (at this point, she thinks they just knew each other at Ardsmuir so that would be a long time ago).

I could not believe that they [BlackJack traumas] would ever fade sufficiently for Jamie to tolerate the physical attentions of another man, let alone welcome them - I sound like a broken record at this point, but she’s making wild leaps based on a hug, yet these thoughts and questions would be perfectly normal if she saw Jamie kissing John fervently.

But if he knew Grey so intimately as to make what I had witnessed plausible in the name of friendship alone, then why had he not told me of him before? - A hug is very plausible in the name of friendship alone, even a really intense hug. He wouldn’t have to know a man that intimately to hug him. And it’s not like Jamie has shied away from platonic hugging with men, just the romantic/sexual kind. And yes, there’s the naked hunger on John’s face, but Claire was flipping out before she saw that.

Why go to such lengths to see the man, as soon as he learned that Grey was in Jamaica - Of course, it’s because of Willie… but Claire doesn’t know this. The reader actually doesn’t either at this point; we learn later, when John tells Claire (which I will go into). You can tell Claire is thinking there is something going on between them and that Jamie thought to hide it from her and still has feelings for John. 

My stomach dropped once more, and the feeling of sickness returned. I wanted badly to sit down - Again, Claire, chillax, they were just hugging. But if they were kissing?? I’m with you, Claire. He’s your husband. That would suck to be blindsided by that.

Okay, so she’s going to see John walk into the hall at this point: His [John’s] face was flushed and his eyes shone - Now John is the one being dramatic about a hug. In fairness to John, we do know a hug would be a big thing for him, but there’s no reason Claire would think it was a big deal. But still… face flushed, shining eyes… those are kiss things.

I could at that moment easily have murdered him, had I anything more lethal than a hair pin - This is Claire’s most dramatic moment yet. She wants to murder this man over a hug? Over his possible ‘unrequited feelings’ for Jamie? When she knows he didn’t know Jamie had a wife? But if our wee Lord is out there kissing Jamie after just having met his wife…. idk seems like a much more plausible motive for murder.

The door opened again, a few minutes later - Seems like a long time for him to be left alone in John’s office because they hugged. If it was a friendship, no big deal on Jamie’s part hug, couldn’t they have just walked out together? (In BOTB, John and Percy will often wait so they are not seen leaving rooms together to avoid suspicion.)

At this point, Claire hides from Jamie. Another overreaction to a hug. She’s literally so bothered that she hides from him, even though he’s obviously looking for her. Then the body is found, so we will skip ahead a bit… first to Claire talking to Marsali, then John talking to Claire.

First of all, Claire is now in John’s office and she still can’t stop thinking about what happened there, even though she’s just seen a murdered person.

I sat looking at the Governor’s big desk. I could see the two of them, Jamie and Lord John, as though they had been painted on the wall before me. “I just don’t believe it,” I said out loud, and felt slightly better for the saying - What the bloody hell is so hard to believe about the two of them hugging and maybe John having feelings for Jamie? That’s not what she’s struggling to believe, she’s struggling to believe that Jamie would return those feelings and she has reason to believe he might, which even a “fervent” hug would not give her under the circumstances. (She knows Jamie is interested in women, and she isn’t from a time of great understanding of bisexuality; she knows he’s had extreme trauma that would likely prevent him from a relationship with a man, even in a desperate time). If they were kissing, she would have to confront these beliefs in the way she is and she wouldn’t have to with a hug. Given her strong belief Jamie would not be interested in men, she would have a laundry list of other explanations that she would jump to, far before my husband is banging a dude, if Jamie and John were simply hugging.

Marsali is talking about Willoughby but Claire keeps on as if they’re talking about Jamie. Marsali saying she knows Willoughby and doesn’t believe he could’ve committed the murder, but Claire is thinking about whether or not she knows Jamie. Did I know Jamie? I would have sworn I did, and yet… I kept remembering what he had said to me at the brothel, during our first night together. Will ye take me, and risk the man that I am for the sake of the man ye knew? - If she saw him kissing John, her questioning whether or not she truly knows him makes a lot of sense.

Here’s a big one: If Jamie could take Lord John Grey as a lover, and hide it from me, he wasn’t remotely the man I thought he was… he didn’t tell you about Laoghaire, said an insidious little voice in my head - Here she is straight out admitting the possibly that Jamie could have taken Lord John as a lover. Why would she make this huge of a leap about her own husband, who she loves and who she knows loves her, over them hugging in his office? She’s tormenting herself pretty extremely here for something that reasonably, if it were a hug, she’d could confront Jamie about more easily like, “Hey I saw you and Lord John hugging, you seemed very emotional about something.” I know Claire isn’t always the most calm and reasonable, but a kiss between the two guys is just a better explanation for what she’s going through.

It seems pretty clear when John first comes in that he doesn’t know Claire knows what happened between him and Jamie because he behaves pretty calmly and not awkward around her. (It’s not relevant but I do enjoy their little team-up to get rid of Captain Leonard). It becomes even clearer that he doesn’t because when she makes an allusion to it, he figures it out.

“There are shocks,” I said precisely, smoothing back my damp curls and giving him an eyeball, “and then there are shocks, if you know what I mean.” - She has to think he might get her meaning from this, if they were just hugging, why should he understand what she’s alluding to here? Also again, why the fuck is a hug shocking?

He looked surprised; then a flicker of understanding came into his expression. He reached into the drawer of his desk, and pulled out my fan, white silk embroidered with violets. - This is how we know he realizes she’s seen what they were doing and dropped her fan (he may or may not realize she did it out of shock or that she ran).

This is yours, I suppose? I found it in the corridor.” His mouth twisted wryly as he looked at me. “I see. I suppose, then, you will have some notion of how your appearance earlier this evening affected me.” - John has to be careful about who knows what about him. It’s dangerous. He can’t be openly gay. And if he and Jamie were merely hugging, which is against zero percent of rules, it would make sense for him to be less direct and not jump to the conclusion that Claire would understand that he would be hurt by Jamie having a wife. He couldn’t have known she’d seen what she did in his face (the naked hunger). If she saw John and Jamie kissing, then it follows that he would think she knows he’s into men. Claire would know there was something between them and why John was shocked Jamie had a wife.

At this point, they go back and forth about Jamie being married and who knows what and John looks sad thinking Jamie never mentioned him but then acts fond when Claire tells him Jamie said he’s a friend. From Claire’s pov, this is probably meant to be a bit rude but of course, John loves that Jamie calls him a friend. Now, John is about to learn that Jamie thought Claire was dead (of course it’s more complicated than that), but this is what he’s going to believe and now is when I really want to focus on this scene and what happens from how John would understand it.

So, what does John know? John knows how much Jamie loves Claire. Jamie has said it to him many times, at Ardsmuir, during their fight in the stables in BOTB, during Scottish Prisoner. He is deeply aware of what Claire means to Jamie. John knows (believes) that Jamie has no sexual or true romantic interest in him, but he also knows Claire has seen them kissing (yes, I’m just gonna say it) and is upset by it. John knows how much he loves Jamie and how he’ll do anything to protect him. Claire could react really poorly to the thought that Jamie is interested in him. She could freak out and leave Jamie and again, John knows how much Jamie loves Claire and how much it would destroy him if she were to leave him. He also knows he can’t really have Jamie for a lot of reasons, including that John has Willie and Willie and Jamie can’t be in proximity of each other without people realizing he’s not really the Earl’s kid.

John, our smart, sweet, wonderful John (I’m not biased at all), has to make a calculation of what to do. So what’s the next thing he says?

“… has he not told you about Willie?” - This is a big fucking deal. John has likely never mentioned this to anyone before, let alone Jamie’s wife, who is not the mother and who could spread rumors about Willie, if she doesn’t take the news well. He is risking a lot by trusting her with this. Why would he do this? Just to be a bitch to Jamie’s wife and be like haha I have something you don’t have—and why would she care? That is not John, and certainly not when it comes to someone he loves deeply who he knows (believes) he cannot have. He doesn’t set out to make them seem more together, he’s setting out to explain why she should forgive and understand what Jamie did (kiss him). This is also a big deal because he’s taking a risk in telling her about Willie rather than letting Jamie do it. It’s a bit of a betrayal of Jamie to share this information if Jamie has chosen not to tell Claire, but John knows he has to, to explain why they were kissing in a way that doesn’t “incriminate” Jamie and will allow her to forgive him.

John goes on to explain Willie which goes into detail likely because the reader is just learning at this point that Jamie had chosen to give Willie to John. John mentions that Geneva is his wife’s sister and when Claire questions “wife” John blushes/gets flustered and Claire thinks if I had been in any doubt about the nature of the look I had seen him give Jamie, I wasn’t any longer. - This is the one phrase that I believe lends itself better to a hug than a kiss, other than the omission of the word “kiss”  (I will address why I think the word is omitted later). I think there are way too many other examples where a kiss fits better than a hug, that this one where a hug may fit a little better isn’t super important. But yes, it’s somewhat odd here to focus on the importance of that look in knowing his acting like it would be weird for him to have a wife, rather than the kiss. But it’s also just a comparison of two facial reactions—this one to Claire and the one to Jamie, which could make more sense than a direct comparison to the kiss.

The next bit is more about Willie, then we get to John telling Claire the whole story of Helwater and the offer and the kiss. I won’t go into detail with the wording here (maybe another post) but I believe there are several things that John wants to get across to Claire by telling her this story. That he, John, is not an asshole taking advantage of her husband, that he does have feelings for Jamie and Jamie knows that, that Jamie loves his son, but does not love John in that way, and that they’ve never had sex but they did kiss. Then, at Helwater, and that night in Jamaica.

I’m going to include the text of the Helwater kiss just because I can, this is my post and I make the rules:

Grey felt the big hands warm on the skin of his face, light and strong as the brush of an eagle’s feather, and then Jamie Fraser’s wide, soft mouth touched his own. There was a fleeting impression of tenderness and strength held in check, the faint taste of ale and fresh-baked bread. Then, it was gone and John Grey stood blinking in the brilliant sun.

The Helwater story finishes up very quickly after this and John says to Claire “That was the first time he ever touched me willingly,” he said quietly. “And the last, until this evening, when I gave him the other copy of that miniature.”

The most important piece of all this is that John is choosing to compare the kiss at Helwater and what happened in his office that evening, as if they are the same thing (because they are). The other is that we know it’s not just touching, in general; Jamie has willingly touched him before. He does it throughout Scottish Prisoner, including holding his arm as they walked together. This suggests that by touch he means kiss, and that the time at Helwater was the only other time, which should ease Claire’s worries about them being actual lovers and a genuine threat to what Claire and Jamie have. John loves Jamie and would not want to see his choice to kiss John end up damaging his relationship with Claire.

All of this to say... 

Jamie kissed John in Jamaica and Claire saw them.

. . . 

A note on it not being so direct there is no question whatsoever:

I believe the actual word kiss is omitted for several reasons. First, to allow for someone who really, really can’t stand the idea that John and Jamie would kiss (more than the one time in Helwater, though they likely wouldn’t like that either) some room to deny that it happened. Second, to represent how hard it is for Claire to face the reality of what happened. As if she can’t bring herself to say or think concretely what they were doing (kissing). Third, avoiding the word kiss is quite common in how Diana writes kisses, at least for John, so it wouldn’t be unprecedented for her to avoid the word. With Stephan it’s “the taste of oranges were in my mouth”, in the later books when John and Percy will kiss, the word is not used and it’s also implied, even with the Helwater kiss with Jamie it was described by the feeling and the taste not the word itself.

[spaceskam]

From A Whisper To A Scream (4/10)

warnings: torture basically, sprinkle in a little trauma

1 | 2 | 3 |

ao3

“Alright, you got five seconds to come out of there.”

Michael froze, laying on the backseat of the broken-down ‘97 Audi. He was hoping if he stayed still enough, Sanders would forget he ever saw any kind of movement. Did he move? He couldn’t remember. He must’ve dozed off.

“Now, I ain’t about to tell you again. Get out of there.”

Michael closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He’d been trying at the junkyard for a couple of weeks now with no problem. He knew it was too good to be true. Slowly, he sat up and made eye contact with Old Manes Sanders. He gestured for Michael to get out and Michael listened. 

“You gonna tell me why you’re in there at 7 in the morning or am I supposed to read your mind?” Sanders asked. Michael just stared straight ahead.

“I’ll leave, don’t worry about it,” Michael said. Sanders snorted a laugh.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what’s goin’ on,” Sanders told him. Michael glared. At fifteen, he wasn’t as tall as Sanders, but he was nothing if not willing to overcompensate with anger. 

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“Don’t get snappy with me, boy,” Sanders said, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Michael snapped. Sanders took a deep breath, giving him a very unimpressed look. But it wasn’t pity either. That was the only thing keeping him from storming off.

“Look, you ain’t gotta tell me specifics, but, that home you’re supposed to be at, it’s so bad that you’re sleepin’ in the junkyard? Or is it you just feeling rebellious?” Sanders asked. Anger boiled beneath Michael’s skin at the insinuation that he was overreacting. Max did that stuff even when he was well-meaning. Just because he didn’t spill every tiny detail didn’t mean he was a liar.

Despite his better judgment, Michael pulled up his sleeve and showed the healing burn mark on his arm that had directly covered an older burn scar they put there before. Forever engraved with a cross, reminding him that he was a freak of nature when it came to these humans. But he wasn’t about to let Sanders drag him back.

“Come inside, eat somethin’ ‘cause you look like a sack of bones, and then we’re headin’ over to that house.”

“No!” Michael yelled, a little more desperation in his voice than he intended.

“We’re gonna head over there,” Sanders repeated, louder and firmer, “So you can get your shit. Then we’re gonna find your social worker and figure out what we need to do to make sure you stay out of places like that.”

“What?” Michael scoffed, “You don’t think they’re gonna just throw me somewhere else for running? Juvie, this time, probably.”

“Well, if things go like they should’ve gone damn near a decade ago now, you’ll stay with me and I ain’t gonna put up with the running away shit,” Sanders said. It shut Michael right up.

He didn’t understand what he was being told. It almost sounded like someone wanted to keep him around. 

“Why?” Michael asked cautiously.

Sanders sighed and looked everywhere but at him.

“Long time ago, I met a nice lady who took care of me like I was her own and she showed me where her own actually was. Made a promise I’d keep an eye out for him and I ain’t about to break it now,” he said, leaving out far too many details. Michael felt like he got punched in the gut and his head spun. He didn’t understand.

“Wait, does that mean you know‒” my mom, what I am, where I’m from, what I’m capable of, if I’m dangerous, “That I‒”

“You want breakfast or not?” Sanders asked gruffly, already walking away.

Michael ran after him.

-

Michael gasped back into consciousness and Eff stood over him with confused eyes and an acupuncture needle in his hand.

“What’d you see?” Eff asked.

“When my dad decided he was gonna adopt me,” Michael said. Eff made a face like that was disappointing, but he nodded and took a few steps back to record it in his notebook. Michael lifted a shaky hand to rub the nearly invisible hole on his left temple.

Apparently, aliens had very similarly placed pressure points to humans, but they did very different things. Provoking them could trigger powers or memories or any number of things that the brain could do in someone’s subconscious. It took them a few tries to find the exact point on Michael’s head to stab a needle into, but, when he found it, he was thrown back to being just a kid.

“Let’s test your telekinetic limit again, see if that affected it in any way,” Eff said, taking the gloves off and dropping the needle into a glass of some ambiguously clear substance to sterilize it. 

Michael stood to his feet, feeling a little dizzy from the memory. Eff gave him the space to do so and waited for him to get steady before they walked outside.

Eff’s workplace of choice was a small shed in the middle of nowhere. No one lived for miles in any direction and the only way someone could find it is if they knew where it was and they were willing to drive 45 minutes into the desert. It had a couch, a cot, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. Most of the shed, though, was covered in equipment to test on Michael.

It turns out, though, that everything got a lot less scary the more he was there. Yeah, Eff was still mean and he never let Michael truly forget that he didn’t see him as an equal, but, for the most part, it wasn’t that bad. Or at least he’d focused on the bright side. This was the first person who was allowing and actively encouraging Michael to explore things about himself that he’d never gotten the chance to. If this was his fate, it wasn’t the worst.

So what if it was slightly off his game and tired and hadn’t had nearly enough alone time with Alex. It was better than having none of those at all.

“Alright, lift the truck again,” Eff said, pulling out his stopwatch, “And I swear to God, if you drop it again, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael held out his hand and focused. The 5,000lb truck was definitely a strain on his abilities, but it felt so nice. It was like an itch that he’d been waiting to scratch, a muscle being stretched, a lung filling with air. This was what he needed. Yesterday, he’d been able to hold it up for 45 seconds before he got a nosebleed and dropped it. Before the needle, he’d again only got to 45 seconds before he had to put it down to prevent dropping it again. No nosebleed.

Now, a little stretched out and a little more excited about what he could do, he fought through the shakiness and ignored the itchy feeling of an oncoming bloody nose. He breathed steadily and just focused. Eventually, though, he gave out and put the car down, dropping to his knees and catching his breath. He wiped his nose and caught his breath.

“One minute, seven seconds. Not bad,” Eff said. Michael smiled. “Now throw the ball.”

Michael took a few extra seconds to breathe before slowly getting back to his feet. He turned his attention to the steel ball that was somewhere around 100lbs, give or take. Michael breathed in deep before picking it up and hurling it as hard as his body would allow at a mat that was propped up 20 yards away that was only there to stop it from going too far.

“Only 35mph,” Eff said.

“You didn’t give me enough time to recover,” Michael argued.

“Doesn’t excuse your shitty number,” he said. Michael clenched his jaw. And he was almost doing good. “Get inside, we’re doing a few more pressure points.”

“Do you know when you’ll let me go home? I have homework,” Michael said, still staring out into the distance.

“Why are you doing homework still?” Eff scoffed.

Michael was about to ask why he wouldn’t, but then he remembered who he was talking to. Eff didn’t see a need because he didn’t think Michael would have a future.

He’d be the one personally making sure he didn’t.

-

Alex walked into the Crashdown with his eyes tied to his phone.

Ever since last Saturday had ended in him holding Michael all night, things had been a little weird. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, just that Michael’s mind wasn’t always with him. He wasn’t begging Alex to come over every night like he usually did, simply satisfied with making out in the back of the truck before Alex had to go home. Tuesday Alex had gone to his house to surprise him only to be told Michael wasn’t home. It’d caused so much embarrassment Alex refused to even drive in that direction unless Michael specifically asked ever again.

Alex didn’t want to push or assume or be that guy. Being with Michael was fun and nice, but there was clearly something going on with him and if he was having second thoughts about them, Alex wasn’t about to try and beg him to stay. Besides, it might not even be that. He might be embarrassed for breaking down or there might be a football thing Alex didn’t know about or any number of things. He didn’t know, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to ask. He wasn’t going to act like Michael was pulling away until he knew for sure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t stare at his phone.

Good timing, too, because it rang.

“Hello, littlest brother,” Flint said loudly into the phone, clearly on speaker with the sound of a car running in the background. Alex smiled just as Arturo, the owner of the Crashdown, came up to take his order.

“Hey, give me one second,” he said, moving the phone to tell Arturo his order. He nodded and told him to tell Flint that he said hi. “Mr. Ortecho said hi.”

“Hello, Mr. Ortecho!” Flint said loud enough that Arturo heard it. He chuckled and walked back into the kitchen. “So, I got some good news.”

“What is it? You finally got that stick surgically removed from your ass?”

“I’m personally offended by that. I thought we were on the same team when it came to the stick being in Clay’s ass,” Flint said. Alex huffed a laugh. “No, but I’m coming into town soon.”

“Wait, for real?” Alex asked, excitement coursing through his system. As much as his brothers annoyed him and he thought Flint was just as lame for listening to their father, he loved them. He also loved not having to be alone with his dad all the time. “When?”

“I’m thinking Monday or Tuesday? Soon, I’ll keep you updated so we can make plans,” Flint said, “Gotta give some shit to Dad.”

“Okay, yeah, can’t wait,” Alex said.

“Tell me something fun, though, what’s going on with you? Anything new?” Flint asked.

Alex bit down on his lip and wondered if he should mention Michael. He wanted to. He never really came out to Flint, but he was pretty sure Flint knew and didn’t care. Either way, he wanted to share like he shared with Maria and Liz even if it was just because he wanted to say “hey look at this thing I got even though Dad said no”. Even though he was kind of unsure about where exactly they stood, this was still an achievement. This was still his. That counted.

“I’ve, uh,” he said, glancing around quickly. There was a table of cheerleaders from his school in the corner, but they were too far to hear. “I’ve kinda been talking to someone.”

“Oh, what? My baby brother is suddenly not such a baby?” Flint teased. Alex smiled and rolled his eyes.

“My not being a baby has nothing to do with having a relationship. I haven’t been a baby for a long time.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that one day, maybe,” Flint said, “So, tell me about them.”

“It’s not, like, super serious or anything,” Alex said, hesitating just a little as he considered if he was ready to officially come out via pronouns, “But… he’s really nice and smart and I like him a lot. I think you’d like him, he’s got the same rebellious-but-not-really vibe you do.”

“Oh, so you chose someone with the same vibe as me? Glad I showed you what good taste was,” Flint said. Alex laughed. When Arturo brought his tray over, he mouthed his thanks. “Well, is he making you happy? Does he know you have a brother who will kick his ass if he isn’t?”

“He does make me happy, yeah,” Alex promised, “But I’m not telling him your threats.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Maybe I can tell him myself when I come to see you.”

Alex chewed on his lip for a second. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask him.”

“Well, do that. We’ll even go somewhere outside of Roswell if it makes you two feel a little better.”

“I’ll ask,” Alex repeated, “And, uh, thanks. For being cool.”

“You say that like I’m not the coolest person you know,” Flint said, “Alright, weirdo, I’ll let you eat. Call you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alex put his phone down, feeling more confident that he had in a few days. He probably wasn’t actually going to ask Michael. Things were already a little weird and he didn’t want to press, so he’d probably just lie and say Michael wasn’t ready for all that. But, still, it was nice to know that Flint asked. He was interested.

It gave him enough confidence to text Michael first, deciding that it wasn’t too needy to reach out instead of waiting for Michael to do it. He sent a simple hey and then got to his food.

“Hey, Alex,” a sing-songy voice said. Alex looked towards it to see one of the cheerleaders. He furrowed his eyebrows, chewing slower as she sat on the stool beside him. She had never said a word to him before. He didn’t even know her name.

“Uh, hi?”

“Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wanted to come talk to you. I mean, we’re friends, right?” she said. Alex felt like he was falling into a trap.

“I guess.”

“I just wanted to let you know that when you come to the games, you can sit up front with the rest of the guys’ girlfriends,” she said. Alex kept staring at her with a confused expression. “If you come, I mean. I haven’t seen you at any of the games before.”

“Why would I go to a football game?” Alex asked slowly. She smiled even wider.

“To watch Michael play, silly,” she said, “It’s a part of dating a football player.”

“I’m not dating a football player,” Alex said. And he wasn’t. Or, at least, not that she needed to know. He didn’t owe any of them that knowledge.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she pressed. He just stared. “I’m just letting you know that you’re welcome to sit by us. We can all gossip. We’d love to hear what it’s like to actually date Michael. He’s always been super interested in just really quiet hookups. I guess I can see why.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex said. He still couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him or not. The rest of the girls at the table weren’t laughing, but…

“You don’t have to,” she said, flashing the biggest smile it felt like he’d ever seen, “I just wanted you to know that we think it’s super cool we finally have a gay football player. We think you guys are just so cute.”

Alex wondered how many more times he could listen to people call Michael gay when they knew literally nothing about him before he lost it.

“How are we cute when we’re not together?” Alex asked. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You know what I mean. The whole two separate looks, it’s perfect,” she said. Alex’s phone saved him by going off and Alex immediately gave it his attention.

Michael: i was just thinking about you where are you

Alex: Crashdown

Michael: room for 1 more?

Alex: For you? Always

Michael: 😍

“Is that Michael?” the girl asked, bringing him back to the conversation. He looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. He didn’t want to be rude. She wasn’t technically being rude. But, still, he wasn’t sure if she was or not. “Thanks for the offer, by the way, but I’m fine. You don’t have to sit with me.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender, “It was nice talking to you.”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed. He spared her a glance as she walked back to her friends and saw them giggling which wasn’t a good sign. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his food.

Within the next couple minutes, the bell above the door dinged and a warm presence sat close beside Alex. He looked up to see Michael standing beside him. He had on a big smile despite the fact that his eyes had dark circles beneath them. It again had him questioning if something was actually going on and not just him questioning their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said.

“Hey,” Michael said back, reaching over him to grab a fry from his tray.

“Get your own,” Alex said, unsuccessfully trying to stop him from shoving the fry into his mouth. Michael just smiled as he chewed and Alex was too charmed to be irritated. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Me too, this week has been a lot,” Michael said softly, sitting down on the stool beside him and pulling it close, “But I wanna see you more. What are your plans tonight?”

“I gotta have the car back by 8, but I can sneak out if you wanna come get me,” Alex suggested. Michael nodded.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he said, reaching over to steal more of Alex’s fries. 

“Dude, do you want to order food?” Alex laughed. He shook his head.

“I’ll just eat yours.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stared at him as they ate. Not only did he have dark circles under his eyes, but he was also chewing slow and seeming to zone out just by sitting there. And Alex was beginning to really think that it had nothing to do with their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said.

Alex considered just leaving it. But he left it last time and things had clearly not gotten any better. His eyes drifted over to the girls at the table, noticing that they were not-so-subtly watching them as if they were an exhibit in a zoo. He tried not to let it bother him as he leaned a little closer.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re worrying me,” Alex told him quietly. Michael made eye contact with him and gave him that little tiny smile that felt like it was only for him. Maybe it was. “Stop it, tell me. Are you sick or something? Is something going on?” 

“You are my favorite person in the whole world, Alex Manes,” he said. Alex tilted his head in that no-nonsense way that just made Michael smile wider. “I’ve been helping Max fix his car, sorry I didn’t really let you know. It’s been taking up my time. And it’s just been one of those weeks. I’m okay.”

“So you’re not just trying to get rid of me either?” Alex clarified. It was honestly relieving to see that it wasn’t anything too bad. Michael’s eyes widened a little bit.

“No, absolutely not. I want to see you more, this week has sucked without you,” he said, batting those eyelashes, “It’s really hard to sleep well without you anymore.”

“Mm, well, maybe I’ll help you get to some good sleep tonight,” Alex said, a suggestive tone in his voice. Michael grinned, his tongue pressing to the back of his teeth.

“Can I touch you in public or is that a no go?” Michael asked. Alex again found himself looking over to the cheerleaders. “No?”

“They were asking me about us earlier,” Alex said, “Told me I could sit with the other guys’ girlfriends and we could all gossip. And that we’re so cute.”

“I think we’re pretty cute,” Michael told him, still smiling. When Alex didn’t respond right away, it faded. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, I just…” Alex said, trying to find the right words. He didn’t have them. Instead, he thought about his conversation with Flint and how good that felt to just be. To talk and act like there was nothing to even think about. He wanted that. “Yeah, you can touch me.”

“You sure?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“Nothing too extreme.”

“Obviously, that’s for later,” he said. Alex snorted, but let Michael just move closer and rest his head on his shoulder. He could feel the way his body immediately released some tension. 

He couldn’t wait to get him alone so he could remove the rest.

-

“Michael.”

“Nope, not talking about this with you.”

“Michael! This isn’t just about you! This affects us! Stop fucking avoiding us so you can do what you want!”

Michael sighed, bowing his head. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes slowly, looking at the engine he was working on. It helped to work with his hands. All the shit he was doing with Eff was too much with his mind and it was nice to just turn it off and use his hands. And, besides, this was the one day it seemed Eff had no interest in doing tests. He planned to just work on this car until Alex could come back over. 

But apparently, he had to still use his brain today.

“What do you want me to say?” Michael asked as he turned to face Max and Isobel. They both looked angry at him. Which was fair. He’d been avoiding them as much as possible. He didn’t want Eff to get any interest in them. They were going to have a future. They weren’t going to end up like him. 

And, besides, he should’ve known this was coming. People were talking about him and Alex. He had no drive to stop them. He had way bigger problems than people gossiping about his love life even if that meant having his siblings find out through someone else.

“Well, first off, why aren’t you talking to us? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Isobel asked.

“And are you actually dating Alex? Because what happens when something goes wrong? What happens when he gets hurt?” Max added.

“Or what happens when you get hurt?” Isobel said, “If he breaks up with you or realizes you’re lying to him? Because you are lying to him.”

“And don’t even think about telling him. This isn’t some small little thing, Michael, this is our lives.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Michael asked. He intended for it to have more bite than it actually did. He wanted to be angry with them, but it was hard when they weren’t wrong. Michael was stupid. It was how he ended up being the one caught by Eff. “Look, I’m being safe.”

“Michael,” Isobel said, stepping up to him. She had that concerned look in her eye that made it hard not to listen. “We don’t lie to each other, okay? That’s not something we can do when it’s just the three of us. We were there when you decided to join the football team and I helped you fake all your physicals, you remember? We’re not trying to hold you back. This is something extremely serious.”

“I know it is,” Michael said, “I just… I like him, Isobel. He makes me feel good. I don’t want to give that up just because I’m not human.”

“But we said‒”

“I know what we said,” Michael sighed, looking to Max and then back to Isobel before he closed his eyes, “But, I can promise you, it’s okay. We’re not toxic to them. Nothing has happened to Alex or the girls I’ve slept with. They’re all fine. We don’t have to be alone like this.”

They stared at him, unreadable expressions. He was anticipating them to yell at him and he was prepared to bury himself in a hole until he felt better. But they didn’t yell. They just stared.

“How long have you known?” Max asked. Michael took a deep breath.

“About two years,” he answered honestly. Max scoffed.

“So, what, I kept away from Liz for no reason?” he asked. Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t think he would’ve gone after Liz anyway. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Isobel wondered.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me for breaking the deal,” Michael admitted, rubbing his eye, “I, I should’ve told you. A while ago. That wasn’t fair of me and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for ignoring you, I’ve been stressed lately and I don’t want to affect you guys.”

“But you still didn’t have an answer for what happens when he realizes you’re lying to him. You can’t tell him what we are,” Max insisted. Michael immediately shook his head.

“I swear, I won’t. You two come first always.”

“Do we? Because It doesn’t sound like it.”

He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes. He thought about the other day when Eff had pricked him with that needle on his wrist and it had triggered waves of power that he couldn’t control that had sent him into a seizure-like state or when he pricked the one on his neck and that same power paralyzed him until he cried, both times immediately followed by Eff bringing him outside to test again. At the moment, it hadn’t seemed like it was that bad. He was still free and still had Alex. He still wouldn’t wish it onto Max and Isobel.

“Trust me,” Michael said, “You come first.”

“This is bullshit, Michael. You’re being stupid,” Max scolded.

“Max,” Isobel said, “Come on, this is good news, isn’t it? We can be normal.”

“Normal,” Max echoed, huffing a laugh, “I can never be normal."

"But, normal enough, right? College, wife, kids, white picket fence?" Michael pointed out, "You can have that. It's safe."

"Since when have you wanted that?" Max scoffed. And Michael didn't want that. It had always sounded boring. But with his current circumstances, that was an unachievable paradise. He wanted Max and Isobel to take it and run with it.

"I don't, but you guys do," he offered lamely.

"You really like Alex that much?" Isobel asked, "That you're finally telling us this?"

"Yeah, I do," Michael said. It wasn't a lie. He did like Alex that much. Just… it wasn't the entire reason. 

"And you're happy?"

Somehow, that felt like a trick question.

"Yes," he said.

"Then we're happy," Isobel said, "Shut up, Max."

Michael wished that was a sign everything would be that easy. That maybe when it came out that he lied to them again about something a million times worse that they wouldn't be angry. He just had to tell himself that.

But, later, when Alex came over again, he still found himself feeling wrong and off. He was wondering if he was always going to feel wrong and off for the rest of his life.

Alex, however, was a nice distraction from the bullshit. He was reading a book for class and Michael had wedged himself between his legs, his knees hooked over his shoulders and his head resting comfortably between his thighs. If he stayed right there, nothing could hurt him.

He breathed slow and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was worth every single mistake. Alex's warm skin against his cheeks, the grounding presence of his feet on his stomach, his hand in his hair, the door and the window locked, and nothing but the sound of the AC and Alex turning pages filling his mind. This was the safest space in the world. He refused to believe differently.

Michael dozed in and out of consciousness, his mind drained and wanting sleep more than he was able to give. He was almost actually asleep until the sky decided to be a bitch and thunder loud enough to wake him up. He slowly dragged his eyes open, his fingers gliding over the unrealistically soft hair on his thigh. He pressed his nose into his skin, breathing him in. Then he pressed his lips there and reveled in the way Alex shifted a little in response. It wasn't until he parted his lips and carefully bit into the sweet skin of his inner thigh that Alex actually reacted. He tightened his legs around him, giving him a little squeeze that was way hotter than it was meant to be.

"Excuse you," Alex scolded, voice soft and a little deeper than usual as if he'd fallen asleep too. It made Michael smile. This really was safe. 

"It's right here in my face, what do you want from me? I only have so much self-control," Michael said. Alex chuckled, his hand taking through his curls before tugging a little.

He spread his legs wider and urged Michael up to move up. Michael complied, laying beside him and accepting the kiss he gave. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Tomorrow meant more Eff, more work, more stress. Today meant this.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Alex asked, "You can say no and I won't be mad even a little."

"What's up?" Michael asked. He couldn't imagine telling Alex no.

"You remember that brother I told you about? He's coming into town," Alex said, not really making eye contact. Michael hummed. "Would you wanna meet him?"

"You want me to meet your brother?" Michael asked. Alex shrugged and nodded.

"It could be fun. He said we could go somewhere outside of Roswell so it won't be too bad," Alex urged, "You can say no."

Michael stared at him and weighed his options. He didn't mind saying yes. If it was before he ran into Eff, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. But now things were a little different and he didn't want to make such important plans when he had no idea when he would steal him for the evening.

"Um, can I say yes but pull out if I need to?" Michael asked. Alex eyed him but nodded slowly. 

"You really can just say no."

"I want to go, though. Things have just been weird lately and something might come up. I'll let you know if it does, though," Michael said.

"Like what?" Alex asked.

"Like if Sanders needs me to help him or Isobel needs me to come get her. I'm surrounded by needy people lately and it's making it really hard for me to be needy towards you," Michael teased. Alex smiled and reached out, touching his cheek softly.

"Okay, whatever works," he said, "He just wants to meet you."

"And I want to meet him," Michael promised, "But, uh, does this mean you're my boyfriend? 'Cause this feels awfully official."

Alex grinned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself into Michael for a long kiss. Michael pulled him even closer.

It was the nicest yes he'd ever gotten.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighteen

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 5th, 1985

“Now come on, Emile, the polite thing to do is to apologize,” his mom coaxed.

Emile stared up at her with a stubborn frown. “He shoved me first!” he said, accusing the boy standing in front of him, his own mother behind him.

“But shoving back is not the answer,” his mother reminded. “Apologize, please.”

Emile sighed but turned to the boy. “Sorry,” he sullenly muttered.

The boy didn’t say anything until his mother nudged him and he said the same. They both walked back to the playground they had been on and looked at each other. “Can we agree that apologizing is dumb and just play tag or something?” the boy asked.

Emile nodded. “Works for me. Saying sorry is only for when you really mean it, anyway.”

  January 7th, 2001

Emile couldn’t deny that things were awkward after Remy’s latest therapy session. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had been trying to avoid Remy the past couple of days so that they didn’t wind up in an argument, or worse, a screaming match.

Of course, things couldn’t stay like this forever, with Emile avoiding Remy and Remy just in general being very quiet and walking on eggshells. It was like he was expecting to be hurt, and it made Emile’s blood boil. So on a day where both of them were exhausted from long shifts, and Emile was stressing over his homework, and Remy was worrying about how much food they had in the refrigerator, Emile slammed a door, Remy jumped a foot and immediately snapped back a, “Hey!” and the dialogue began. “You can’t just slam anything you want when you’re angry, Emile! You know I don’t like loud noises!”

“Yeah, and you’ve never told me why, which leads me to a few unsavory ideas, which is what’s making me angry in the first place!” Emile snapped.

Remy growled. “We’re low on food and we barely have enough money for rent, and you’re angry about something that happened years ago?!”

Emile stilled. “So it did happen?”

“Yeah! My mother had a bad habit of getting angry and slamming doors and yelling! Sometimes at other people, mostly just in general! She’d mock whatever anyone said that set her off, and she’d stomp around like she was out for blood!” Remy’s breath heaved in his chest. “She demanded respect, and perfection, and when she didn’t get it, she’d get angry! That’s normal!”

“That’s not normal, that’s horrifying!” Emile exclaimed. “You’re acting like a living breathing doormat when it comes to your parents! You deserve respect!”

“No I don’t!” Remy said, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t even hold his scowl in place. “What kind of brat who can’t even be thankful for what his parents did to him deserves respect?!”

It was then that Emile realized he had miscalculated. Remy would talk big and pretend that nothing bothered him, but underneath that, he was still a person who can and did get hurt. And this was clearly a touchy subject. “Everyone deserves respect, Rem. Everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally. And not just from one or two people, either. Everyone deserves respect from everyone else. While they may not be loved by everyone, most people are loved by several other people, in one way or another.” His voice was measured, trying to avoid shouting, and he just hoped that Remy wouldn’t interpret that as anger at him. Emile tilted his head to the side. “Mind explaining why you don’t agree?”

“I...I don’t...” Remy stammered. “I...my parents...my parents don’t have to respect me. I have to respect them. That’s how that works. Respect doesn’t have to be a two-way street.”

“Yes it does,” Emile said firmly. “Remy, everyone, no matter how big or small, gay or straight, young or old deserves respect. Because they’re people. Living, breathing people with all their own experiences, their own emotions, their own opinions. They’re sentient beings. They deserve respect.”

“But...but then...then...why couldn’t...why couldn’t my parents...respect me? If you’re right, then that means my parents...my parents were wrong,” he whispered the last word, glancing around fearfully, and it broke Emile’s heart, dimming the fire that had been burning there not even minutes before. He needed to take the gentle approach, while still being straightforward.

“Yes, it does. Because they were,” Emile said firmly. “Listen, Rem. I’m sorry, but your parents weren’t good people. They treated you badly. They hurt you. If they don’t treat you with respect, then they aren’t respectable in my eyes. Full stop. Everyone deserves respect. Everyone deserves to be loved, and be taught to love, not to fear. Because that’s what they did to you, Rem. They taught you fear instead of love, and you’re paying the price for it.”

Remy’s eyes filled with more tears, as he said in a lost, broken voice, “They said they loved me...”

“Maybe they do. But they certainly don’t show it in acceptable ways,” Emile said, taking the few steps needed to cross the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Remy.

Remy hugged Emile back, sobbing into his shoulder, and Emile just hoped that whenever Remy calmed down, he would take what Emile said to heart, so they wouldn’t have to repeat this conversation over again. He hated when they went through the low in the cycle, where Remy was convinced his parents weren’t that bad, that he was overreacting and being a brat, that this, that, and the other thing were what Emile was wrong about when really, those were all signs that a family genuinely cared for you.

He wanted to destroy Remy’s parents, and maybe his grandparents as well, because clearly, they had to get it from somewhere. His siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins got a pass...for now, at least. Emile wouldn’t destroy Toby, ever, because Remy cared about him too much, and he didn’t know how the rest of his family reacted to Remy’s parents’ outrageous demands. But his parents could rot. And Emile knew that wasn’t productive, and Remy probably wouldn’t want to hear it at this point, so he kept that sentiment to himself.

After some time of them just hugging, Remy broke the hug apart, sniffling and looking away, crossing his arms. “Emile...I think my parents neglected me. Like, the actual legal definition.”

Emile felt the need to fight dim down into nothing, leaving only charred remains of the fire behind. “I know,” Emile said softly.

“You don’t,” Remy said, sniffling. “You have parents who genuinely love you and would never do anything to hurt you, even accidentally. You don’t know the half of what I’ve been through these nineteen miserable years.”

Emile winced. “No, I don’t. I said I know in reference to the fact that what they did was neglect. And emotional abuse.”

Remy sighed. He uncrossed his arms, letting them lay limp as his sides. “I’m tired, Emile. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay to be tired,” Emile said, “So long as you don’t give up the fight entirely. Take a step back, regroup, and tackle this problem a different way.”

Remy laughed, voice still thick with tears. “Every day, you sound more and more like a shrink.”

Emile laughed with him. It felt like the sun was finally beginning to peek through the clouds. “Yeah, well. I suppose that’s a good thing, considering that I want to be a therapist, right?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “You may see it as a good thing, but I’m not so sure.”

“That’s okay,” Emile said, patting Remy’s arm. “So long as I know it’s a good thing, then you can think what you want. It’s my life, so my opinion is the one that matters most.”

Remy blinked. “See, I understand that in concept, but in practice...that’s never been the case. How does that work?”

Emile shrugged. “I’m not sure, it just...does? Like, I want to do something so I weigh the pros and cons, and if I think it’s a good idea, then I do it.”

“And you just...do it?” Remy asked. “There’s no...”

“No what?”

“No one saying it’s a bad idea, or forbidding you from doing it, or whatever?” Remy asked, waving his hands around.

“No. I mean, yeah, sometimes my friends call me a ‘grade-A dumbass’ but like...that’s just friends joking around together. It’s all in good fun, we’ve established it’s not said as an insult, and if I still want to do the thing, they won’t stop me,” Emile explained.

Remy frowned and shook his head. “That sounds...weird. Unnatural.”

“It’s called independence,” Emile said. “And not everyone gets the same amount of it. You’ve never had any and now, all of a sudden, you have all of it. No one can tell you what to do. If you wanted to you could up and quit your job. You could travel the country with nothing to your name but the van you’re using and an old worn-out guitar. And that’s probably...really overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Remy admitted, running a hand down his face. “I never know if what I’m doing is the ‘right’ thing. Not in the sense of morals, but more in the sense of if I’m going in the direction I’m supposed to be going.”

Emile winced. That sounded particularly difficult, and he knew that a lot of adults struggled with that. “You don’t have to know that, not right away,” Emile said. “You might never know, and that’s okay. So long as you’re happy where you’re at, you have to be doing something right.”

Remy let out a breath and nodded. “I’m...I’m sorry for yelling earlier.”

“So am I,” Emile said. “And I’m sorry for slamming the door.”

Remy waved him off. “All things considered, it’s not the worst thing you could have done. And it got us talking again.”

“Still, I caused a flare-up in your trauma. That’s...really not cool,” Emile said.

Remy shrugged. “I won’t hold it against you,” he said.

“You’re being too kind,” Emile said.

“Nah,” Remy said. “If anyone else were to do that, I wouldn’t have forgiven them so easily. But this is you we’re talking about. You never hurt me on purpose, rarely do it on accident, and always apologize if you do.”

Emile blinked. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Obviously, he didn’t want to hurt Remy, because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. But at the same time, Remy saw that as a big deal. And now Emile knew why, and it made his heart break more. “Of course,” Emile said. “That’s the right thing to do.”

Remy’s smile was a bit bitter. “You see, you say that, but not everyone agrees. That’s why you’re so important, Emile. Because you see those things that might hurt me as things that might hurt me. And rather than taking your chances, you avoid them. You’re...you’re important. To me.”

Wow. “You’re...putting a lot of faith in me,” Emile said.

Remy shrugged. “I like to think that you would have the same faith in me. If not now, then one day. When I know what I’m doing when it comes to making friends, and being a normal human being.”

“Rem, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years,” Emile said, giving his friend a small grin. “It’s that there’s no such thing as a ‘normal human being.’ No need to strive for something that doesn’t exist.”

“What should I strive for instead, then?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged, looking around. “Why not being happy where you are? Being happy with who you are? Just...loving the moment. That’s always been my goal in the past, and I think it worked out well for me.”

“You think so?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, I’m happy to be here with you, and studying all the while to follow my dreams. It’s nice,” Emile said. “And while it’s not the perfect situation, and we definitely need to figure out where to cut back in expenses so we can afford more food, and maybe a chair or two, it’s nice. I’m not sure if there is such a thing as a ‘perfect situation’ in all honesty. So I just relax, remind myself of why I’m happy, and just like that, my mood improves, and I’m content.”

“Wow. You...clearly do not have that many mental health issues,” Remy laughed.

Emile shook his head. “You worry me, Rem. I’ve had my bad days, but it’s true that I haven’t struggled with depression, or PTSD, or anxiety to the degree you have. It’s still a therapeutic technique that helps, though. I’d recommend trying it.”

“Right, because that will solve all my problems,” Remy sighed.

“It’s not meant to solve all your problems.”

“I know it’s not, I’m just not looking forward to trying it,” Remy said. “But for you, I’ll give it a shot.”

[tysukis]

Hi, first(?) AU anon here. I will absolutely dive down this rabbit hole with you. I went a little overboard (sorry?). I absolutely agree with you on your Zuko take. I think we all kind of land there naturally. But I also think that Zuko would latch onto stability the moment he realized he had it. So this is kind of how I see it going down:

I think the band Sokka is part of would be solid. Just a local hit, right? But Sokka is the plans guy, and the aspirations guy, and they can do *so much better*. I 100% do not know how real life musicians work so add a pinch of salt here, but he would absolutely land them a gig as openers to a mediocre niche headliner just by sheer power of phone calls and charm. (He scripted it as much as possible, we all remember how that canon speech went when he winged it, but he knows how to put words together when he has time).

And yeah I love the idea of Zuko being an academic. I'm assuming Ozai is out of the picture for this, and the boy gets to pursue his passions instead of an expectation. Unfortunately, you mix in passion and the general anxiety of a kid who lived under intense scrutiny and you get an adult who gets tunnel vision during spring finals/prep for a conference/etc. So he doesn't quite rise to the occasion when his boyfriend drops this life changing news, he's proud but distracted, and he's already so bad at words in comparison to Sokka that it's just. Lackluster. And he probably meant to meet them at the bar/house party to celebrate after he got home but he's sleep deprived and his phone is dead because he's a disaster sometimes.

So now you've got Sokka stewing on immediate events, and being a little heartbroken because he went all out every time Zuko accomplished *anything*, even if it wasn't super impressive to Zuko himself. And maybe there's a bit of Zuko assuming Sokka doesn't need that reciprocated. He just doesn't vocalize his important needs, so Zuko assumes they're being met, you know? I like the drama of a blown up confrontation but also the idea that Sokka just confronts him sounding hurt and so damn tired of being the emotional one for that long.

But on the other side you have Zuko with his internalized plan that this is his forever person, and he does go to almost every performance even if they don't play his preferred music. And he assumes Sokka is satisfied with this. Maybe because Zuko can't imagine being happier than near his family - the good ones anyway - or because he genuinely thinks Sokka and the band are happy with being local celebrities and leaving it at that. So he plans for permanence. Because he is still a disaster, Zuko probably never vocalized this beyond doing window shopping for apartments or something. Vague jokes about a wedding that Sokka laughs at/agrees with and Zuko interprets as, "Yes I am also thinking about being here with you forever." He's not the wordsmith, he's the pragmatist and love means house shopping and snuggling over takeout and planning trips to visit their distant family together, right? Sokka's confrontation blindsided him, because he thought they were on the same page, and Sokka didn't have to leave to keep playing music, why is that even a thing??

They're both justified in being jaded because they're dumb as hell (affectionate). This isn't an AU for two grown ass men who have put in therapy time, they're both young and full of their own understanding with poor communication skills.

musician au anon!!! hello welcome back thank you so much for this incredible ask, let’s GO

(I’m gonna pop this one under a read more because otherwise this post will be eight miles long lmao)

Honestly I’m wracking my brain with what I can possibly add to this because you’ve got like. A fully fledged outline here my dude and it’s a good one. Do you write? Because you should, if you don’t. I still love the alternative take of Sokka being the one to leave and honestly this pretty much cements how much potential it has. I absolutely adore how you’ve thought about just how the communication would break down between them - and you’re completely bang on the money with it as well. Zuko is fully a hot disaster and would completely just assume Sokka’s needs are being met if he isn’t vocalising them, and we know Sokka, he’s a complainer but when it really comes down to those he loves - he’s known for being pretty selfless and for putting up brave faces. I can totally see Sokka perhaps almost feeling a bit self conscious about how hurt he is by Zuko’s lack of enthusiasm. Because Zuko loves him, right? And it’s just one show, right? So maybe he’s just overreacting, right? Or maybe he’s actually not even that good. Oh no, maybe Zuko hates his music and is just waiting for the right time to break it to him gently. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I think I might have already said it at some point tonight but Sokka would absolutely spiral until he convinces himself that him leaving would be nothing more than simply just leaving before he gets left. And like you said: Zuko  is out here planning a whole future assuming that they’re on the same page, meanwhile he has no idea.

I totally buy Sokka winging his way into a supporting act spot using his charm and charisma, and yeah his speech in canon didn’t go too well but this could likely be over the phone to only one person which would probably make it easier. I was thinking about how Sokka performing would work in conjuncture with his canon almost stage fright/fear of public speaking - and I’m leaning towards the hc that he embodies a sort of persona in front of large crowds and he’s able to let that take over and act casually and confidently no matter the audience.  (source: I am someone who studied acting and excelled in public speaking most of her life despite having a chronic anxiety disorder - playing parts and speaking on stage didn’t feel like ‘me’ because I was always channeling a character either fictional or an alternative version of myself. It works, folks.)

Are we thinking he broke away from the band and went on to succeed in a solo career? As in, he felt being local heroes was a limited pathway? Or did they all go together? Who else would be in it I wonder.

I LOVE your interpretation of Zuko and how the factors under which he was raised would shape him, especially in a modern setting. He would absolutely go into tunnel vision and that perfectionist mindset he was essentially forced into as a kid would probably be alive and well into adulthood. (And yeah, these aren’t men who have been to therapy - yet! - so we’re probably gonna assume that Zuko views this as a Perfectly Normal And Healthy Way To Live And Not At All A Trauma/Survival Response.)

I’m assuming this confrontation is what leads to their break up and then Sokka going off to pursue music further? I wonder, even all their other issues aside, what Zuko thinks about him travelling so far? As you said, we’re operating under the assumption that he doesn’t understand why Sokka couldn’t continue music and stay local. Even if things were perfect between the two, I imagine they still might not see eye to eye on that, which of course would just be another breaking point for them to tack onto the list.

As for their eventual reconciliation, Kaleigh @zukkau with her gigantic brain, said earlier that Sokka being the one to leave could also tie into a whole ‘I couldn’t ask you to uproot your whole life for me’ anxiety (especially if we’re painting zuko as a bit of a homebody here; hates change, likes routine) and that sets up perfectly for a “I would go anywhere for/with you” moment. All this to say that I think that would slot into this (^) narrative nicely.

If you have (or anyone has) anything more to add or touch on I would absolutely love to hear it, I am now fully in love with this AU and all messages and mentions of it are permanently welcome in my inbox and DMs <3 

[teatoohottohandle]

Youngest femme child

It is something about being the youngest femme child in a family... There is some magic here. Especially if you are someone who actively chooses to challenge familial and societal norms about what it means to be the youngest child, toxic family habits and patterns, and to be perceived as a woman/ feminine.

CW: therapy, mental health, toxic family, gaslighting, manipulation, emotional abuse, childhood trauma

I recently told my mother that I'm going to therapy to figure some stuff out, especially to calm down with this situation with my sister who's narcissist and has been gaslighting me/ bullying me for decades. She immediately questioned me, "Why bother going to therapy? Why? Why? Why?" I told her repeatedly that it was for my healing, it was for me. I wanted to heal from this family and better understand myself and how I was showing up or wasn't for the family.

It felt invalidating, as always, to talk with my mother about mental health and the need for therapy as I try and figure out how to heal.

Last night, I had a deep and intense conversation with my friend Z. We talked about what it means to love family. For Z, her family is willing to back her up no matter what. They're ride-or-die, which can be considered toxic imo because in some ways, it's unconditional love, which shouldn't really exist or be a thing. Love should be conditional because love requires respect, autonomy, honesty, trust, and responsibility. Lacking any of those for a sustained time or disrespecting those values means that there's a lack of love for the person. It means love has left the room (imo).

Fundamentally, Z and I disagree about loving family. For Z because her family is willing to back her up no matter what & would be willing to help her if she were in extreme dire circumstances, Z loves her family. For me, however, I cannot love my family because my family doesn't trust, respect, or take responsibility for their actions against/for me. I have early memories of going to bat for my siblings, but my siblings never backing me up. Rather, they'd side with my parents and altogether, they'd take me down and make me feel like I couldn't have opinions, thoughts, or voice those to the family.

---

I've been repeatedly called arrogant, selfish, and bossy for having and setting boundaries from family. I've also been called bossy for having preferences (outside vs inside clothes). When I've asked my mother how I'm bossy, she told me, "You just are." Now compare these two interactions side by side with how she kept asking me why I was going to therapy and how I'd tell her it was for me & my healing. Which she'd repeatedly ask, "Why? What's wrong with us that you need to go to therapy?" [Lol idk manipulation???] These are all small things (maybe to you), but it adds up. My family made me feel like I was overreacting to everything, like I was being prissy for no reason. In reality, I was just setting boundaries for myself, which of course they couldn't stand.

Manipulative families love to manipulate.

---

I told Z about how I wanted to punch my sister and threatened to because of how much she had pushed me. Z immediately understood, but my mother freaked out. My mother said, "You think you're unsafe? Your sister isn't threatening to hit you like how you did." Z said, "Nah, it got to that point where you needed to let that anger go." I felt validated for being angry, for being upset at my family.

This journey of ignoring the narcissist in the family is extremely painful. I am someone who says things, speaks the truth, wants to have a conversation. My sister repeatedly told me I was a crybaby and my mom told me that I needed to calm down. Nobody in the family recognizes how Lisa is abusive and gaslights me into believing that she's not being abusive. That I'm the crazy one.

And sometimes I really do feel like the crazy one, that I'm emotionally unstable.

But I think about how as a child, I was afraid of saying anything to Lisa. Telling jokes and poking fun was an absolute no. I would get reprimanded, Lisa would shout at me and tell me I had an attitude problem. And actually I've heard her repeatedly accuse our other siblings for having attitude problems, but she never looks inward at her own attitude problems. Her own insecurities.

For things that we couldn't do, like skip out of a family road trip to Canada one year, Lisa could. My mom has always allowed Lisa an out. She's given her many opportunities and often "sides with" Lisa, although it doesn't bother me that my mom chooses sides.

Even as I'm writing this, my mom is joyous with Lisa and Vincent. And hardly acknowledges me and Lucy. It doesn't bother me, however. As much as I loved my mom, I also cannot give or dedicate more energy towards abusive family members / family members who allow abuse to happen.

Although something Z and I talked about last night was also how I wasn't even quite ready to understand myself in this situation. I agreed with Z. Right now, I feel strongly that I'm in crisis mode and my brain is impacted by being and feeling triggered. We talked about how I will definitely feel differently when I get some more physical and time space away from this situation. I agreed wholeheartedly.

Until I receive that time and space away from family, I will be trying my best to go DEEP and avoid defending, engaging, explaining, and personalizing the violence that's going on in the household right now. I will do my best to avoid, ignore, and focus my energy elsewhere.

[sincerelyreidburke]

Not to be angsty on main, but what’s Quindo’s first serious fight like? How long does it last?

Okay, anon, rest assured I have been meaning to answer your ask for quite some time, and please do forgive me for the delay. I was trying to figure out if I was going to write this or do a bullet-fic thing, and I’ve decided on a bullet-fic, mostly because writing it out would require me venturing into territory I’m not sure I could do justice.

But yes, let’s talk about this— because every couple comes to that point where they have their first Really Big Fight, and Quinn and Nando are no different. We’ll head under the cut for this. A little heads-up: this post has implied spicy content, but nothing at all that’s explicit or detailed. Also, there are references to alcohol and drug use pretty typical of a college party scene.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

- So the first thing we have to establish is that this takes place during junior year. Obviously, they have been dating for 2+ years by that point. And what I should note is that two years might seem like a long-ish time to date before having your first serious fight...

- Quinn and Nando have this very healthy thing going on where they bicker literally all the time. We know that Quinn constantly gets mad at him for stupid reasons, and that those instances ‘dissolve’, so to speak, just as quickly as they come about.

- Basically, Quinn and Nando— and this applies all their lives— function like a married couple who have been together for, like, 40 years. They don’t fight over petty things or keep any issues that arise bottled up like unhealthy teenagers; instead, they tell each other when there’s a problem, and they work it out.

- So the best way I can describe the way “fighting” manifests for them typically is “robust and healthy bickering”. I think it bears a little similarity to the way a lot of us imagine Nursey and Dex in a romantic relationship. They love each other, but of course they get on each other’s nerves.

- Do I mean that Quinn and Nando fight all the time? No, of course not. They love each other, and they’re very soft, and 99% of their bickering is rooted in very solvable problems.

- Also, Quinn is the instigator. I think it’s pretty obvious by now that Quinn is the pain in the ass in this relationship, and it’s really rare that Nando will initiate a bickering session.

- All this is to say that the reason they don’t have any kind of big fight until junior year is because their disagreements manifest instead in little spats that start and end quickly.

- But anyway. Onto this actual fight that takes place, because it’s distinctly different from the usual bickering they do.

- It’s, like, February of their junior year. For a little context, here are some things that are going on around this time— Quinn’s grandparents kicked him out around November, and he went home with Nando for Christmas break. I need to emphasize that everything about Christmas break in Arizona went very well, and the reason they fight early on in spring semester has nothing to do with that.

- There’s no big underlying issue that causes this. In other words, this isn’t the explosion of long-coming tension that results in a relationship breakdown. Because, spoiler alert, obviously this doesn’t break them up; they don’t even fight for more than a night. The fight is more just a product of each of them being stressed out for their own reasons, a case of poor communication, and frat party culture.

- So allow me to set the scene. The way this starts is at a Haus kegster. Nando lives in the Haus and has since sophomore year, and even though Quinn doesn’t, he’s manager by this point, and he spends a good deal of his time at the Haus. I should emphasize that Quinn has friends outside of SMH, mostly consisting of his theatre social circle, but he does spend a lot of his free time with the hockey boys, for obvious reasons.

- It’s a typical kegster, for the most part. But Quinn is a little on-edge. He has a number of things going on: first, the lingering awful of being disowned, which, despite the fact that he has a wonderful found family, is still something he thinks about. Then there’s school-related stress, because the boy does, after all, want to go to medical school, and he’s now reached the point where he’s prepping for the MCAT and his grades are very very important and on top of it all he’s a double major, so the academic stress is... well, it’s getting to him.

- Plus, he’s manager of the team, which requires a lot of work of him, and he has the drama club, which he could never imagine giving up for a second, but they’re in the heat of spring musical rehearsal season, and the short and the long of it is: Quinn is busy. So busy. And so stressed-out. And this kegster is one of the first times in awhile he’s emerged from his academic/theatre/manager cave to do something social.

- What does any of this have to do with Nando? Well, it doesn’t... until it does. The thing about Quinn being so busy is that it’s made it so he’s having trouble seeing Nando at times other than, like, bedtime. If they’re not falling asleep or waking up together, they’re probably rushing off to one of their million obligations. It’s made it so they haven’t been on a date in a little while, and things have just been busy ever since the semester started.

- They also haven’t really gotten, like, private time, if you know what I mean by that, where they’re both feeling up to it, in maybe like three weeks or so.

- So at this kegster. Nando is playing pong with Rhodey, because, as a frat boy, it is part of his brand. And he’s having a grand old time. Quinn is nearby, because he sticks to his side at parties.

- Quinn is straight-up not having a good time, as the kids say. Everything is really loud and he’s feeling sensitive to it, and he can’t stop thinking about all the schoolwork he has to catch up on tomorrow, and he has lines to memorize, and he feels guilty for even being here at all right now, but all he wants is Sebastián’s attention. He needs some comfort. There’s also maybe weed at the party (Nando doesn’t smoke but Rhodey probably does), and Quinn is not a fan of drugs, for childhood trauma reasons.

- So he decides he wants to leave. Here’s the problem. Nando has been drinking a little, like he typically does at kegsters, and Nando is having fun. Nando is also a little too under the influence to realize how stressed-out Quinn is.

- So when Quinn is like, Sebastián, I’d like to leave now, Nando is like, babe, I can’t just leave in the middle of a pong game.

- And this upsets Quinn. He gets more emphatic. Like, I said I want to leave. And a little disclaimer: if sober, Nando would understand right away that something was wrong with him. Quinn isn’t the type to get overwhelmed at parties super easily, and Nando just... I’m not saying that being drunk is an excuse for failing to pick up on cues of your partner’s distress, but I’m just providing an explanation for why he does so.

- I also don’t think either of them is really “in the wrong” in this situation. I just think it’s an instance of Quinn being upset, and Nando not realizing how upset he actually is. Nando doesn’t deliberately ignore his stress at all. He just does not register that it’s actual stress and not just Quinn deciding randomly that he’s done with the party.

- Because Nando’s (slightly drunk) rationale is, okay, we can leave in like five minutes; I just want to finish my pong game.

- Quinn maybe overreacts just a little. As we know, Quinn Cooper is a little dramatic. Is his stress valid? Of course. Is him wanting to leave a party if Nando isn’t ready to leave a crime? Absolutely not. I’m just saying, the boy is a little dramatic.

- So he leaves, and Nando doesn’t actually realize that Quinn is gone until he sinks a shot and turns around to give him a kiss or do whatever he does when a pong game is going well.

- And oh, shit— Quinn is actually gone.

- Okay, now he’s leaving mid-pong game. He looks all around the Haus, and when he doesn’t find him, he goes outside, where he can see Quinn on the porch. The cold combined with the realization that Quinn is mad at him sobers him up a little.

- They fight on the porch. It’s not so explosive of an argument that it’s embarrassing or makes other people uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a disagreement. It’s kind of like, baby, why did you leave? / because I want to go, and you were being an asshole. / I didn’t even know what was wrong! You can’t just walk out like that without telling me— / I shouldn’t have had to explain. I wanted to leave, and you should have listened. / but I didn’t realize you were actually upset— / I know! I get it. It’s fine. I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party. / Why are you so mad right now?

- Et cetera. Blah blah blah. This goes on for quite some time. Quinn basically tells him that he’s really stressed out and that coming to this kegster was a bad idea and he’s sorry he disrupted his night, and that he’s going back to his dorm now. He walks away, and starts down the street.

- Nando runs down the street and yells after him. It’s a little dramatic, like they’re in the obligatory fleeting angst part of a rom-com.

- But Quinn has shut his hearing aids off, because he does not feel like listening, and Nando realizes this pretty quickly. Quinn is aware of the moment when Nando falls into step next to him, and they walk back to Quinn’s room in total silence. It’s relatively tense, but Nando feels a little more clear-headed now that he’s realized they’re actually having an argument, and he wants to fix it. He’s aware that a little more fighting might be necessary in order to do so.

- When they get back to Quinn’s room, and the door is shut behind them, Quinn takes this long breath and turns his ears back on, and Nando is convinced he’s about to get yelled at. He’s used to getting ‘yelled at’ by Quinn in a bickering, loving way (*swat* Sebastián!!!!!!!), but what happened on the Haus porch felt a little more serious, and he thinks this might be similar.

- Instead of yelling at him, Quinn kisses him.

- They work out the tension in an alternative way, let us say. I think we can imagine what happens. I won’t elaborate on it, but it’s, like, a little rougher of an encounter than is typical for them, and it’s charged with whatever has been building up during the argument.

- They don’t talk about it that night. Instead, they fall asleep.

- In the morning, they talk about it. Quinn apologizes first. Nando tells him he doesn’t need to apologize, and that he’s sorry he didn’t pay more attention when he was obviously not doing well at the kegster.

- Because this is Quinn and Nando and I am incapable of writing angst that doesn’t get resolved in some way, it basically ends in this talk under the covers in Quinn’s bed where they air all their recent stresses and confess that they miss the time they always spend together that has been lacking in their recent busy lives.

- Also, they’re both a little roughed-up. They take care of each other’s, uh, evidence of the night before, shall we say.

- Nando promises he’ll pay special attention from now on and take into account everything that Quinn has on his plate, and Quinn says he won’t take his stress out on him.

- By the way, Nando is a really good boyfriend to Stressed-Out Quinn. This incident is a very specific exception.

- So is this a pretty trivial disagreement? Yeah. But sometimes, you have big fights over trivial disagreements. I’m counting this as their ‘first big fight’ because it’s the first time that either of them is genuinely afraid it might escalate into something that keeps them not speaking for multiple days. And I think if Nando had let Quinn walk away from the Haus and not gone after him, instead returning to the kegster, it would have been a bigger deal.

- Anyway, they’re okay, because they really do tend to turn out okay. 

I hope this satisfies your need for angst, anon, because I do know it’s not the world’s most angsty thing. There is, of course, other angst between the two of them, as they do spend their lives together. But they have a really healthy relationship, and huge blowout fights are pretty hard to come by.

Thank you for the ask!!!

[anotherhawk]

Old Habits - Good Omens fanfiction

Inspired by a story I read by @acuteangleaziraphale a few days ago. Go check them out! Their story is here.

Summary: While visiting Adam and the Them something happens which Crowley reacts badly to. Aziraphale offers comfort.

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut below.

Aziraphale was just putting the finishing touches on the mugs of cocoa when he heard the children scream and felt the desperate wrench of a demonic miracle. He was running immediately, far faster than any human would have been able to react, and so when he reached the living room Brian's hand was still outstretched, Wensleydale was still screaming and the last drop of black blood was just spattering onto the carpet.

He looked around quickly. The four children seemed unhurt but they were pale and huge-eyed, staring at the space where Crowley had been standing.

“What happened?” he asked, dreading the answer when there were so many different possibilities. If Hell had...or Heaven had...or those horrible demonologists...

“I'm sorry,” Adam said, near tears. “I didn't mean to.”

His imaginings came to a screeching halt. “I'm sure you didn't,” he said, automatic, reassuring. “And it's going to be quite alright, my dear boy, I'll make sure of that, but can you please tell me what happened?”

“Actually, I don't think it was Adam that started it,” Wensleydale spoke up, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder the former antichrist.

“We just wanted to know if the two of you were together,” Pepper said, raising her chin. “Together together,” she added meaningfully. “But he kept dodging the question or lying. It was really stupid.”

“And then Adam said, but he didn't mean to,” Brian jumped in. “I mean, he's done it to me a couple of times, and it was annoying but he felt really bad about it – he even gave me his best robot comic to keep – so I don't know what went wrong.”

“But what happened?” Aziraphale asked again, trying not to sound too worried or too impatient.

“I did it,” Adam said miserably. “I didn't mean to, honestly, but sometimes when I tell people to do things they just do them. And I told Crowley to tell us the truth about how he felt about you. And...and..”

“And he bit right through his tongue,” Brian said in a hushed voice. “He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then he just - “ He clamped his mouth shut with an audible snap as if to demonstrate.

“He was bleeding,” Pepper added. “And that's when Wensley started screaming - “

“ - you were screaming too - “ “ - I was surprised. Anyway. He was bleeding and his hands were shaking and he did that finger snap thing you do and then he was gone.”

Oh, Crowley. Aziraphale took a deep breath, his chest aching. Teleportation was technically possible but very difficult and draining. Crowley wouldn't have done it unless he was absolutely on the brink of losing control.

“Adam didn't mean to,” Pepper said, subdued. “None of us meant to. We were just asking, we didn't want to hurt him.”

“Of course you didn't,” he said, mustering up the brightest smile he was currently capable of. “It's just old habits dying hard, that's all. We both spent rather a long time living in fear of being asked that question, you see. Particularly with what you might call a supernatural compulsion attached. Crowley must just have overreacted.” He managed a laugh that was only a little bit too high. “He does that a lot, you know him, dramatic old serpent. And then he was probably embarrassed so he left in a hurry. That's all. Please don't worry about anything because there's absolutely nothing to worry about.”

All four children were looking at him, completely unimpressed.

“Now you're lying,” Brian complained.

“And actually you shouldn't say that someone is overreacting to trauma, actually,” Wensleydale added, pursing his lips at Aziraphale dubiously. “Everyone feels their emotions in their own way, and just because someone has an extreme reaction to a trigger doesn't mean that they're overreacting or being oversensitive.”

“I know that,” he said weakly. “I just - “

“ - it's like Ms Rose and loud noises,” Adam suggested, and all of the Them nodded sagely. “Can't go around shouting on her lawn, and we shouldn't have been pushing Crowley like that, only we didn't know until it was too late. So now we need to make sure he's okay and apologise to him.” He looked at Aziraphale expectantly.

“Ah, well, I think it would be best if I took care of the first part of that,” Aziraphale said hastily, unfortunately imagining the look on Crowley's face if he led a troop of apologetic children to him. “But I'll pass on your apologies and your best wishes, alright?”

“Well, alright then,” Adam said, scuffing his shoe. “But how are you going to find him? He just vanished.”

“Let me worry about that,” he said, tapping the side of his nose with what he hoped was an air of supreme confidence. “Now, do any of you have the number for a local taxi company, by any chance?”

*

Even with the liberal use of miracles to turn lights in their favour and keep traffic moving the journey back to London took much longer than Aziraphale would like. He was far too used to being driven at Crowley-speed and in the circumstances speed limits felt like they were put in place purely to vex him. But eventually the taxi arrived outside of Crowley's flat and Aziraphale thrust a hastily miracled bundle of fifty pound notes at the driver and scrambled out, his eyes fixed on the windows above. He could feel Crowley's demonic energy inside and that was a relief. London from Tadfield wasn't so very far to teleport, and somewhere Crowley was so familiar with probably helped as well. And it was very good that he was in the first place Aziraphale had thought of checking.

He was further relieved to find that when he made his way upstairs the door opened at his touch. “Crowley?” he called, as he stepped into the hallway. “It's just me, dear. Are you up for company, my darling?”

“'n here,” Crowley's voice answered, sounding like it was coming from very far away indeed.

Aziraphale found him folded up under his desk, looking for all the world as though he had simply slid straight off the edge of his ridiculous throne. “There you are,” he breathed, carefully sitting down on the floor himself, in touching distance but not touching. Crowley's glasses were firmly in place and there was dried blood around his mouth. “Is your tongue...?”

The tongue in question flicked out briefly, forked but whole. “Fixed it. Was nothing, really.” He shrugged painfully. “Adam didn't mean to. Was just me being stupid. Brain just went 'Can't tell them about my angel.' Stupid. Panicking.”

He cleared his throat. “A very understandable thing to panic over, I think, my dear. I don't often sleep but, on those occasions when I have, being asked that question has featured rather heavily in my nightmares.” As had what would come after. A bitten tongue would be the least of it. So many times he'd imagined himself not being quite circumspect enough, being confronted with a direct question and a disbelieving Gabriel. It always ended with Crowley being dragged away to face an eternity of torture, his eyes fixed accusingly on Aziraphale's. He shook his head sharply, dismissing the image.

“Should've just told 'em what they wanted to know,” Crowley mumbled. “No harm in it now after all. 's just our side.”

“True,” Aziraphale agreed. “We're free now. There's nothing to stop me from taking out a full page ad in the Morning Chronicle expressing how very much I love you – but I must admit the thought fills me with irrational terror.”

“Ngk,” said Crowley, cheeks red. “You can't say things like that, angel.”

He paused. “Not even when we're alone?”

Crowley shrugged again, a movement that involved too many vertebrae and too few shoulderblades. “Maybe when we're alone.”

“We'll get there,” Aziraphale said gently. “It might just take a little while longer, that's all. But we both know where we're heading now, and we're making the journey together. Isn't that what matters?” He looked at Crowley tenderly.

“Yes,” he said, more of a hiss than a word. “AndIloveyoutoo.”

“I know.” He held a hand out carefully. “Are you ready to get up now, darling?”

Crowley looked at his hand for a long moment then shook his head. “But...you could join me? If you wanted to.”

The size of the desk didn't change but somehow the space beneath it was perfectly sized for the two of them to sit cosily side by side.

“Going to need to tell Adam not to worry,” Crowley said after a moment.

“There's time enough,” Aziraphale replied, summoning up a bottle of 1999 Romanee-Saint-Vivant along with a jar of peanut butter and two spoons. “Just you try and relax for now.”

Crowley smiled. “'nk you,” he said, around a mouthful of peanut butter.

[afoolforatook]

A RWBY V7 Ep12 rant.....When I say this is long..... Legit was fucking 37 pages double spaced at one point. Sorry....

Before this gets started I want to warn you, this is long (even longer than I thought it’d be going in). It’s probably too long ... actually it is definitely too long but if I agonize over editing it down again and again I won’t get it up before the finale. It’s probably repetitive at times, and most certainly not anything I’ll be showing off as an example of my top essay writing. And I want to be able to say that the length pays off because I have some grand hopeful insight at the end. I want to say I know things will be okay. But the fact that I can’t is exactly why I’m writing this, and why it’s so long. So if you need this to have a hopeful ending, I’m sorry, I don’t have one for you currently. I want to, so badly. But to me false hope would be even worse.  So if you can’t handle another long post that doesn’t end with a way to fix things, it’s okay, take care of yourself. But maybe the most hopeful thing I can tell you, and tell you up front, is that you aren’t alone in your pain. 

I want to preface this all with one more thing: I don’t hate CRWBY. I respect them, support them. I’ve wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt as much as I could.  That doesn’t mean I can’t criticize them or expect more from them or just be plain angry with them. I can be vocal about all of that without harassing them, without hating them. I don’t think they’re just plain evil or homophobic. I still want to believe that they can do things that will allow me to trust them again. Maybe it’s naive, but I want to, at the very least, still have hope that this wasn’t malicious, just very poorly conceived and executed. 

And I know that other people who are hurting like me are lashing out towards CRWBY. And while I don’t at all condone that kind of reaction, I can understand it to an extent. Because I’m very, very hurt and angry and it would be so easy to let loose and say all the awful stuff I want to in my anger. To yell and call people out and not care how I come across. It would definitely be a lot easier than spending all week writing this long thing and agonizing over making it perfect. There is nothing wrong with venting and being raw and open and angry, but just as we want CRWBY to be aware that their actions can truly hurt people, we need to be conscious of the fact that so can ours.  Many people are very hurt right now. And whether or not you think it was queerbaiting/BYG or not, or even whether or not you just think it was bad writing, no one has the right to invalidate the people who are hurting right now, many of whom are queer people dealing with personal traumas and mental illness. 

The few people who are attacking CRWBY and other fans (and there is a difference between being angry and vocal about that anger and just attacking them) do not invalidate the hurt people are feeling. If you are hurt or angry you have every right to be. You have every right to stop watching the show or leave the fandom, or communicate your hurt to CRWBY. But communicate means just that; communicate. Talk. You can be as angry as you are, you don’t have to temper your pain to be more tolerable to the people who caused that pain. But there is a difference between being harsh and honest about how hurt you are, and harassing real people. And I won’t say “harassing real people over a fictional character/show” because I know it’s more complicated than that. My hurt this past week isn’t over a fictional character or a ship. It’s about me and what I’ve been through and the fact that the very thing that gave me strength in hard times was turned into something that confirmed my biggest fears and hurt me immensely. 

The world always gets so sentimental when we see things about fictional stories giving people some comfort, and we celebrate that. But as soon as people say they can be hurt just as much by media, we lash out, say they’re overreacting, that they’re just getting upset over fictional characters. But you can’t have it both ways. We can’t want fiction to be important and inspiring to people and then belittle people who are negatively impacted by the same material, especially when often that vulnerability comes from a history of trauma and/or being neurodivergent. I am extremely hurt. I feel betrayed and abandoned and angry. And it will take time for me to process all of that and move past it. But I can be all of those things without attacking CRWBY or the people who might disagree with me. 

To me, this isn’t about disagreeing. We can argue forever about whether or not this was queerbaiting or bury your gays or poor writing (and I honestly at this moment don’t even know what I think about all of that because I’m not in that headspace currently) but the fact is that there are many, many people who feel it was, and who are hurting because of that, and whether you believe it was or not does not give you the right to invalidate the real pain that they are feeling.  Who is right is less important than the fact that people, people who were already vulnerable, have been hurt. So, please. Respect each other. Respect those who are hurting. Respect those who aren’t and don’t understand, and respect CRWBY. You can still be angry and speak out without attacking others. 

With that said, to fully understand why this has affected me so much, and why it’s going to take a long time for me to get back to where I was, regardless of how the volume ends, there are things you need to know about my history. It’s a lot of background and this is already going to be a longer post than I’d really like, but it’s important to understanding why RWBY is so important to me, and thus able to have such a negative effect on me. So please, bear with me. Also, fair warning, though at this point it’s probably obvious, but my story isn’t happy. I still haven’t found my own positive ending to it. If it’s too much for you to read right now, please, like I said before, take care of yourself. 

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Farley. I’m 24, nonbinary (they/them), biromantic, demisexual. I have MDD, GAD, ADHD, Panic Disorder, OCD, Comorbid PTSD, and am trying to get an official autism diagnosis. I’m a full on alphabet soup. I struggle with imposter syndrome, intrusive thoughts, self-isolation, dermatillomania, and multiple trauma related phobias. My queer and neurodivergent identities are huge parts of my life and I try to be as open as possible about them, in the hopes of helping end the stigma around them. One of the main ways I cope with my mental health issues on a day to day basis is through hyperfixations. While it might not technically be the healthiest method, it’s what I’ve found to work for me when I’m in a really bad place and unable to practice more active coping skills. Through stories and characters that I relate to, I can separate my problems from myself a little and both escape from them for a while when needed, and view them a little more clearly from a new perspective.  

That’s some important info about me, but what really matters here is the past five years of my life and the trauma within them. 

In October of 2015, a few months into my sophomore year of college, I went into a deep depression, mostly brought on by multiple family deaths and stresses over the past summer that I had not properly had time to process and recover from. I quit my job as an RA and withdrew from school and moved back home with my parents.  While this was the right decision at the time, it wasn’t easy. I left a very close group of friends at school, and didn’t really have a strong support system at home aside from my parents. My friends from high school had all gone off to college themselves, and the few that still lived in town were often busy with work or school. And because I have an intense fear of driving and needed time to get myself in a better place before starting a job, I ended up spending most of my time home alone. I became more and more isolated, to the point of verging on agoraphobic, and my parents and I started thinking about ways I could basically get my life started again. 

 But isolation messes with your head, and makes you want to just isolate more and more. In mid February of 2016 I started to really work on being social again. Mostly because I started talking to my best friend from high school, Emma, regularly again. She knew I was struggling, and while I’ve always had a hard time keeping in touch with people, Emma has always been the person I never felt self conscious about going to. We talked everyday. After high school, Emma’s mom and younger brother had moved to Ohio (I live in NC) and Emma had gone to school in Oregon. Her father lives in Germany. So between visiting her family in Ohio and Germany she didn’t have a lot of time during breaks to come back to NC to visit friends. Since we graduated I’d only seen her once for about 12 hours during that awful summer. But now we were skyping and chatting everyday. And slowly I started to be less and less scared of being more social. I wanted to hang out with friends. I was excited about going back to school in the fall. 

Something important to understand about me and Emma is how close we’ve always been. We’d been best friends since 8th grade. We told each other we were soulmates, soulfriends, when we were 15. Nearly everyone in our small high school thought we were dating at one time or another. I always knew I loved her. I was fine with our relationship being “only” platonic. Because platonic wasn’t “only”. It was absolutely perfect. It was having her as one of the most important people in my life, and me in hers, and that’s all I wanted. But I also knew that if she ever wanted to try a romantic relationship, I’d be open. 

Around the time I left school Emma had been going through a lot herself. She was finally getting help for her own mental health issues and she was, for the first time, really thinking about her identity and sexuality. On May 4th 2016 she texted me like always, but this time she was nervous. She wanted to tell me something. She said she was still confused about her sexuality and didn’t know where she fell. But when she tried to think of being with someone, the only person she pictured was me. And I told her basically what I just told you. So we started talking about testing out us being a couple. She had already been planning to come to NC to visit after she went to Ohio later that month for her brother’s high school graduation. And my parents were going on a two week vacation around that time as well. So we decided that she would come and stay with me for two weeks. We would keep this to ourselves until then, so that we could see if this was really the best thing for us. And if so, then we’d tell people. We’d always talked about living together after school, but now we wanted to see exactly what we wanted our relationship to be. She bought a bus ticket for May 26th and would stay through June 10th or so, which would mean she’d be there for her 20th birthday on June 5th. We talked everyday about our plans for her visit. How excited we were, how we could cook dinner together and dance around the house in our underwear, and just get to be Us again. We talked to friends, planning to visit friends from high school and maybe even my friends from college.

On May 18th I texted Emma around 11 pm. I hadn’t heard from her all day which was unusual but she was in Ohio celebrating her mom’s birthday and getting ready for her brother’s graduation that weekend, so she was probably just busy. We’d told each other goodnight every night for months at that point. So I told her I loved her and was so excited to see her in just over a week.

The next morning it was a bit odd that she still hadn’t texted me back but again, I just assumed she was busy with family. And then the mail came, and the last part of a birthday present I was making for her arrived. So I got to work, giddy. 

Around 2 pm my other best friend from high school, Juli, called me. For some reason I decided I’d just call her back later, I was too engrossed in making Emma’s present. About 20 minutes later I heard a knock on my door and turned to see my parents standing in the doorway to my room. I vividly remember spinning around happily and saying “Hey! Everything okay?” even as I noticed the tears on my dad’s face and how pale my mom was. My stomach knotted and I stood as my mom said “N-no. Honey…..” and walked towards me. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for her to say that a grandparent or aunt or uncle had died. But as she got closer and put a shaking hand on my shoulder, I got a little more confused, a different kind of scared. One of my cousins? One of my baby cousins?  

Nothing could have prepared me for her telling me that there’d been an accident in Ohio. That Emma, and her mom, and her brother, and her aunt had been in a crash…. And that all four of them had been killed on impact. The only thing I remember about the rest of the night is the pain of continuously screaming, punching the wall until my dad stopped me, and calling my friends from college, trying to have someone to talk to, someone who I could call who wouldn’t also be mourning. I couldn’t handle my own grief, let alone anyone else’s at that moment. 

There’s a lot more to that story. There’s the memorial service in Ohio and meeting her dad and stepmom for the first time. There’s the service we put together at our high school and seeing our friend group all together again, except not. There’s the panic attacks every time I saw a garbage truck, or my parents drove off to work. 

But most importantly for what you need to know right now, is my sliding back into isolation. I barely ever saw my friends from home and every time I did for the next two years it had something to do with mourning Emma. I saw my college friends a few times; them coming to visit or me taking a bus to stay the weekend. But eventually they went back to school and I stayed at home. I drifted away from high school friends because I didn’t know how to handle being with them when everything we did together reminded me of what I’d lost. I didn’t know how to talk to them because I needed their support but knew I didn’t have it in me to be supportive of them, and that wasn’t fair. I drifted away from my college friends for the same reasons, and even more so as the group dynamic that I had left slowly changed and faded until I didn’t know who was talking to who anymore and I again felt bad for dumping my shit on them when I couldn’t do the same. I began to think that all I brought to any social interaction was my pain and hopelessness. I would just bring everyone else down. They shouldn’t have to deal with my pain. So a year after I left school I was even more alone. I’d lost or pushed away all the people in my life that I’d expected to be lifelong friends, family. And I didn’t know how to begin to fix that. I didn’t know if I wanted to. I didn’t know if I deserved to. 

The only reason I was even still alive was because anytime I even got close to thinking about hurting myself, I could just sense Emma glaring at me, yelling at me, telling me that I couldn’t let this stop me from living out all those dreams we’d talked about. And I knew that my life wasn’t just mine anymore, that all those dreams, that bond, the parts of my favorite person that only I knew, would be lost if I died. 

But I didn't have my friends to vent to, and as supportive as my parents were (I’d told them and a few close friends about me and Emma that first terrible week) I needed friends. But I didn’t know how to reconnect and I was too scared to go out and meet new people, especially knowing that at some point I’d have to drop the “dead girlfriend” bomb on them, and who’d want to stick around after that?  So I tried to use media and hyperfixations to pull myself out of spirals, like I always had. But it was hard. Because most of the things that had been comforting before were all things I’d shared with Emma, and so now they were just more reminders of her absence. And even new things I found soon turned rotten because I couldn’t help but think about how I wish I could show it to Emma. Everything that made me happy for even a moment would pretty soon make me sad. 

Eventually I found things that comforted me and helped me be creative again and that led me to starting school again, nearly three years after I’d left, at SCAD.  I loved the classes. I wanted to be there. I’ve always been a fiction writer but now there was so much in my head that I needed to get out, to process, and to share with people, especially people like me dealing with an unimaginable grief. Those past few years had been made even more difficult by the lack of representation I found in grief material. Everything was either about grieving the elderly, not someone who’d barely even gotten to live. Or if it was about someone young it was due to suicide or disease or violence; in other words things that at the very least, left the grieving with some cause to care about, or something to be angry at, some real world outlet. I didn’t have that. I didn’t relate to that. And even harder was finding anything I could relate to that included the complexities that my queer identity put on my grief; there were people I could and couldn’t tell about our relationship. Did I say I lost my best friend or my girlfriend? What if her family didn’t approve and wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me have any of her things, wouldn’t want me around? And one of the biggest things I kept thinking those first few months; why had my life become a ‘bury your gays’ soap opera plot line. Was Emma supposed to just be my tragic backstory now? Was I just supposed to use this as angsty fodder for the rest of my life? What about her? What about her dreams, her potential? What about her progress? She’d just gotten to a place where she was accepting herself. Where she was overcoming her mental health issues, where she was proud of who she was. Why was I allowed to keep going and she wasn’t?  I couldn’t find any support for these feelings. Not books or groups or forums. So I decided to make them myself. I started writing and drawing, putting together what I called my Grief Scrapbook. I was working towards the thing that mattered to me more than anything; telling our story. I was getting the chance to create the content I’d so desperately needed. 

But I was still alone, even at school. I was 23 living with mostly 18/19 year olds. And while there wasn’t anything wrong with them, I was struggling with a strong sense of dissociation. Everywhere I looked I saw Emma, forever 19. And there I was, continuing to age and getting further and further away from her. 

My first year at SCAD I made two friends, and while I love them, they didn’t fulfill the hole left by the large close knit groups of friends I’d lost. I tried to get back in touch with my best friend from college, only to find that she was no longer talking to me. And I don’t blame her really. Yes I’d been going through things, but so had she, and I hadn’t been able to be a good friend for her. So if she needed to move on for her own good, no matter how sad that made me, she had every right to do what was best for her, just as I had been trying to do. 

I’m now in my second year at SCAD and recently started hanging out with a new group. And they’re great and I’m slowly feeling more confident and secure around them, but I still struggle. I still miss the relationships I held so dear, the relationships I let dissolve. I still worry I’ll never have that kind of connection with people again, and that if I do somehow manage to find it, I’ll mess it up again.  Some days are particularly rough, when I sit with my thoughts too long, or see something that reminds me of any one of the many people I miss, and I ache for the happiness I had. And it’s those moments when I turn to hyperfixations (I do promise this is getting to RWBY). 

This past February the final How To Train Your Dragon movie came out. The HTTYD franchise holds a very dear place in my heart, as it was my main hyperfixation during high school, and something I shared with Emma and other friends. The second film came out the day of my graduation. It was the last movie Emma and I saw together before she moved to Ohio and then went to school in Oregon. It was the last movie we saw together at all. I knew it was going to be very emotional for me to see the final movie, alone now. But I had to see it opening night. And (spoilers for The Hidden World I guess) the movie ended up being about the reality of having to let go of the important people from your childhood as you grow up. About dealing with the fact that sometimes the people you expected to always be a part of your life, aren’t. I loved the movie, but it destroyed me. A few months later I had to get through May, the 3rd anniversary, away from home for the first time. And it was extremely difficult. I’d had to take a break from HTTYD and process things. 

So my main hyperfixations weren’t helping me get through a really difficult time. But around the time HTTYD 3 came out I happened to get back into RWBY. I’d watched the first season or so when it first came out, but then had just kind of forgotten about it. And so, in the absence of HTTYD, I got caught up. And I can’t say there weren’t things that hurt, that made me have to take a moment and collect myself.  Watching the end of volume three, watching Pyrrha and Jaune finally kiss, and then watch their relationship die with her before they even had a chance to be together, hit way too close to home. Logically I should have projected on Jaune more than I did but I think I couldn’t, because it wasn’t just similar, it felt like I was literally watching the worst moment of my life play out. He was too much like me to handle. But there was Qrow. And at first I just kind of latched onto him because I liked him. I like his characterization, his design, and I was a fan of V*c ( I hate to even mention him here for fear of causing a totally different discourse, but Emma and I were big fans of his and high school and met him and when everything happened with him it was just another thing that felt like a good memory of Emma had been tainted.)  

And so I was watching while the last half of volume six was airing. And I was watching Qrow slip further and further into his depression. I watched as he felt betrayed by Oz after grieving him and then getting him back. I thought more about how he’d basically lost his sister, about how he’d grieved for Summer (regardless of whether it was platonic or romantic), how he lost hope in having strong relationships ever again. How he felt cursed and how he pushed people away to protect them and himself from more pain. I saw how the Apathy affected him and how close he was to giving in before Ruby and Weiss snapped him out of it. I saw him struggle to get himself back together for Ruby and the rest of the kids, but not know how. I saw every single fear I’d struggled with those past few years in him. I related to Qrow more than I’d ever expected to. And so my hyperfixation on RWBY grew. His addiction was my isolation. His insecurities of hurting others and thus pushing them away was my fear that for the rest of my life, I would be alone because I was always going to be too broken to be worthy of friends and love. 

And then everything happened with V*c and for a bit everything hurt again and I had to get away from RWBY and the toxicity within parts of the fandom. And when I was able to come back I was excited but worried. I hoped that Qrow would continue to develop, continue to progress alongside me, that I would like his new actor enough to finish healing the sting I’d felt over V*c.  I just wanted Qrow back, I wanted this character to be there to help me again.

Because Qrow Branwen gave me hope. He gave me hope that I could get better. He gave me hope that even with my insecurities and trauma, something I’ll never be fully free from, I can deserve people who care about me, and that there are actually people who will care about me. He gave me hope that good things can still happen to broken people. And not just people who were once broken and have healed, but people who are still figuring out how to heal, who know they will never fully heal, but also know they still are worthy of support and care. And then volume 7 started and I got more than I’d ever dreamed. 

There was the hug with Ironwood. And even though I shipped Ironqrow, the idea of there being a romantic aspect to that hug wasn’t what made it important. It was the fact that we got Qrow connecting with an old ally (and an adult), finding that he even still had an old ally. That despite everything that had happened with Oz and Lionheart, despite all the trust he’d had broken, maybe he wasn’t actually alone yet. And then we got Clover. I’ll admit I was wary of him at first. I was worried about the traitor theories, the death theories, and then the theories that he’d negatively affect Qrow, making him feel worse about his semblance. But then he grew on me so quickly. Because he smiled at Qrow. He got him to talk about himself, called him out when he was putting himself down, told him how well he was doing. And while it’s wasn’t because of Clover, he was sober, and Clover had to at the very least help him stay that way. Qrow was hunching less when he walked, opening up, being more vulnerable and social. He was smiling, laughing, making jokes. He had a steady partner that he trusted and worked well with, likely for the first time since team STRQ. And yes, I shipped them, but honestly while I would have still been disappointed if it was never canon, given how blatant it really seemed like it could be, it would ultimately have been okay. Because again, it was less about Qrow finding love and more about him finding support.   And then I saw Qrow and Clover and Robyn team up, and whether it was canon or just fandom I felt represented. Not just in the way I had with Qrow about my mental health, but as a queer person struggling with complicated grief; the exact thing I had never been able to find and had taken upon myself to create for others. I saw Qrow being loved (again, whether platonic or romantic isn’t as important) and healing. Even if Fairgame never actually happened, I could still see them as queer characters helping each other process trauma. And maybe I set myself up in a bubble part of the fandom that fully convinced me that Fairgame was possible, but at the very least I truly, undoubtedly thought that Clover would side with Qrow. 

And as I watched episode 12, I could feel my stomach sinking. Okay Clover didn’t side with Qrow at first, but maybe he’ll come around. Okay maybe he won’t come around, but maybe he’ll take Qrow in and they’ll have time to talk, maybe even with Ironwood. But then Clover abandons the ship, abandons Qrow and I was scrambling even more for hope that things would be okay.  Maybe he’s trying to get away to diffuse things. But then “Never pegged you for the manipulative type” the first sign of Qrow doubting their entire relationship, of feeling betrayed again. And then Clover calls Qrow cynical? Maybe I’m forgetting something, cause I haven’t gone back and analyzed every scene with them, but I can’t remember Qrow ever being cynical around Clover this volume that we’ve seen. Self-deprecating yes, but this is legitimately the happiest and most secure we’ve ever seen Qrow. But okay maybe they’ll reason and Clover will come around. But then “We don’t have to fight, friend.” and it’s friend not Qrow. And then “You don’t know my friends. That’s how it always goes.” and I broke. I almost stopped there, a part of me wishes I had. Because it was already so broken, this thing that had even in the past few weeks, been a main pillar of hope for me. But maybe they’ll come together to fight Tyrian. And then Qrow goes after Tyrian and Clover keeps attacking Qrow. Well maybe he’s really trying to protect him, or has some plan. But then they continue to fight each other. And they don’t have even a moment of “who’s the bigger threat here? Us or the serial killer?” And then Qrow works with Tyrian?! Tyrian the serial killer? Tyrian the unstable maniac? Tyrian who tried to take Ruby? Tyrian who nearly killed Qrow? Tyrian who fucking worships Salem, who Qrow has spent most of his life fighting, has lost Summer to, and countless other traumas? (and I get the possible reasons, realizing that Clover won’t lay off of him so Tyrian is his best bet and then he can take care of Tyrian, but I still don’t like it. But this isn’t even about whether or not I think it’s good writing or characterization and it’s too long already to get into that.) And then Tyrian and Qrow fight so well together and I honestly felt sick. We haven’t seen Qrow work that well with anyone. Not RWBY, not Ironwood, not Clover.  And now we see it with fucking Tyrian? And maybe it’s a stretch but it honestly felt like another nail in the “Qrow attracts bad” coffin that is his insecurities. Qrow and Tyrian fight nearly perfectly together and it felt so damn wrong. Clover’s wrong here, Qrow’s wrong here, and it all feels so very very wrong based on the entire progression of their relationship throughout the volume. And then Qrow takes down Clover’s aura and I’m just empty.  There’s no hint of him trying to just beat Clover and not kill him. He has no reason to think that Tyrian won’t actually go for the kill during this fight. But they continue to have these snippets of “We don’t have to fight” or “I want to trust you” while showing no signs of holding back and still caring about the other’s well being. And then Qrow’s voice breaking during “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing…”. We’ve literally never seen Qrow this emotionally compromised, let alone during a fight. He’s crumbling because he finally had someone who made him think he could get better, that he could have close relationships, that he could be good for the people around him. And now he’s losing it. 

I was broken here, I was already spiraling. I knew Clover would get hit. I knew I would be struggling to deal with this episode because I had so fully expected a different course. But I thought there could still be hope. There had to still be hope. CRWBY wouldn’t give us all that development, wouldn’t show Qrow finally happy without leaving some hope for things turning around in the finale. He’d get hit by Tyrian’s stinger and Qrow would have to work to save him and they’d work things out. But then “I trust James with my life… and I wanted to trust you.” And I’m sobbing. Because I get it, Clover’s loyal, but when Qrow’s face hardens I know what he’s thinking. What he’s trying not to think but it’s so hard to fight: “Maybe it is me. Maybe I can’t be trusted. Maybe I’ve ruined things again”. Even though he knows what James is doing is wrong. But he trusted James, he trusted Clover. And he thought they trusted, cared for him. And now they’ve both turned against him and no matter how much he knows he’s doing the right thing, he can’t help but worry that he’s still the thing broken here, that he still messed up somewhere and ruined the relationships he needed so much. I was breaking more and more as I watched this source of my own hope lose all hope. 

And then Harbinger. The weapon Qrow built himself. That he modeled after his hero. The literal extension of his soul. And only moments before, Qrow destroyed the one thing that might have protected Clover. Clover’s emblem falls. Tyrian with “Like you killed Clover”. And yeah yeah Qrow being framed is heartbreaking. But it’s more that he’ll believe it. He did. He fucked everything up again. He tried so hard to do the right thing and still managed to hurt the person he cared about. And if Clover, the foil to his bad luck, could be destroyed by his semblance, how does anyone else stand a chance? And then blaming James. Swearing to make him pay (I honestly don’t remember if he says make him pay or kill him but I physically can’t rewatch that scene to see which it was). And yes he blames James. He hates James. It was the last straw breaking on someone he wanted to trust so much, wanted to have as a friend. But he still blames himself. He still knows he’s cursed and all the progress he’d made with Clover’s help is ripped away. 

And then “Good luck”. I’ve seen people saying it’s sweet, that it’s a moment of reconciliation, of Clover showing he still cares. And I don’t necessarily disagree. But I hate it. Because Qrow won’t take it that way. It’s just another reminder that good luck is out of his reach. And then the goddamn sky and the bi flag colors. And then we see Qrow cry for the first time. And then…. The scream…. I literally nearly vomited and that was the thing that sent me over the edge into full blown panic attack. Because I know that fucking scream. I know how it feels. I hear it ringing in my ears, I feel my throat getting raw. I could hear and see and feel myself in the same position. The nightmare I’d fought off for years; kneeling over Emma’s body and there being nothing I can do but scream and scream as the last of the hope I was clutching to faded with her… with Clover’s eyes.

It wasn’t that Clover died. It wasn’t that my ship won’t happen. It was how traumatizing it was. It was that Harbinger was now defiled. It was that Qrow set it up to happen. It was the sky. It was seeing the light go out of Clover’s eyes. It was Qrow’s scream. We’ve never seen a death like this on RWBY before. Yes we watched Pyrrha’s death. But there was no blood. We didn’t see her bleed out. We didn’t see the exact moment the light left her eyes. We saw Adam stabbed and some bleeding and then hitting the rocks, but we weren’t right there, seeing the exact moment of his death close up. If Clover had been stung by Tyrian and died I’d be upset still, and many of the issues I have would still be relevant. But using Harbinger like that, playing directly into Qrow’s own insecurities like that, after having him do things that felt extremely out of character in order to set things up for Tyrian to kill Clover like that and blame Qrow? It felt vile. 

It didn’t just feel like bad writing or different narrative choices. Hell, it didn’t even just feel OOC. It felt malicious. It felt like twisting established plot and characterisation completely in order to make it fit some tragic climax that was only chosen because it would have the biggest emotional impact, not because it was the best way to continue the plot. And they can’t say that they didn’t expect people to be so attached to Clover. Because if they didn’t expect that to be so emotional for viewers, then why do it like that in the first place? Why put in the climatic cinematic shot that mirrors when Yang lost her arm? Why have Qrow screaming over Clover’s body be the final shot?  If Clover was never meant to have significance to both Qrow and fans, why make his death so painful? They can’t say that they didn’t know fans would get so invested at the same time that they say that it was necessary to make it that traumatic. It’s not that you can’t kill off beloved characters, no matter how long they’ve been in the show. But if you do, it’s got to feel important, it’s got to feel necessary, and it’s got to make sense for those characters, or else it just feels like you’re playing with peoples’ emotions for no reason other than shock factor. 

I’ve seen a bunch of theories and discourse. Arguments over whether or not it’s queerbaiting or bury your gays. Over whether or not it’s bad writing or out of character. And I’m sure I’ll eventually have a stronger, more thought out opinion on that, but right now I can’t even get there. 

I’ve seen theories as to why CRWBY did this, why it’s important to the plot. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’ll be just as surprised in a good way next week as I was in a traumatic way this week. But it will take a lot, and I will still need time to recover and dig myself back out of my own intrusive thoughts that saw this episode and rejoiced because “See!? See, good things can’t happen! You’ll always lose whatever good you find. You’ll always ruin whatever good you find.” And none of the theories I’ve seen make that better. Maybe they’ll bring Clover back with the Staff of Creation or some other method: doesn’t matter, the damage is still done. Qrow still is betrayed and traumatized. And even if Clover came back and Ironwood realized he was wrong and stopped, even if everything went back to exactly what it was, Qrow still would have lost all the progress he made this season. Because even if everything was fixed, Qrow would still have to fight down the newly boosted fear that everything will fall apart again. And similarly even if I come back to RWBY and things are good, I will still have a hard time trusting the show, and will still have to climb my way out of a hole I had just gotten out of, except this time I won’t have the comfort of RWBY to help me. 

Or maybe Clover won’t come back and Qrow will relapse and try to kill Ironwood and lose his mind like the scarecrow he is. And what will that do but reinforce the fear and idea that “broken” people can’t escape their vices? That they’ll always come back to pain. Yes, it’s important to show that people can relapse and still get better, that relapse doesn’t mean all hope is lost. But there’s a difference between a relapse and new trauma that directly undercuts all the progress you’ve made. That’s not inspirational, it’s exhausting. Yes, you can come back again, but what about the next time and the next and the next? When will you just get to be secure in your happiness without worrying that at any moment you’ll thrown back to square one?

If it turns out there’s some great plot point this creates, some big revelation that fixes things, I still think it wasn’t done properly. Fine, have that, have that pain. But don’t end on that and leave people for a week. It’s not about it being a cliffhanger. It’s about people who are traumatized being abandoned. (Again, I’m not even getting into how, if this did happen, how episode 12 would still feel off from a characterization standpoint and whether or not it was poor writing. It’s an analysis I can’t currently do.)

And maybe my least favorite theory and the one that I might see as most likely; that Qrow won’t relapse. That he won’t completely lose it and instead Clover’s death and influence will be what keeps him going. Because yeah, that sounds great, that sounds heroic and strong and like the progress that came from knowing Clover did make a difference. But it feels wrong in this instance. Qrow’s had that. He’s had loss that hurt him but he kept going to finish something or honor them. He kept going after Summer died. He kept going for Ruby and Yang and Tai. If he didn’t have that, why would he have kept going when things were so bad? But Qrow doesn’t need that again. He doesn’t need another pain to spur him on. He needs support. He needs proof that his hard work, his struggle, has been worth it and that he still has allies. And not just the kids. Because as much as he respects them, as much as he believes in them and their abilities as hunters, he’s still protective of them, they still aren’t on an equal level. He still feels responsible for them. And that’s good for him, but he needs adults too. He needs people who aren’t his responsibility. He needs adults who can call him out on his shit. He needs adults he can lean on, who can take care of him. And now who does he have? Summer is gone. Raven is gone. Tai is back at home. Oz is gone. Lionheart betrayed him. James has now betrayed him. Winter has sided with James and might not be alive much longer? Robyn is there, but also hurt, and we haven’t seen anything to suggest that they are particularly close. And now Clover is dead. Clover, the only person we have ever seen Qrow let his guard down around like we did this season.

And it’s not that the “Staying alive for the person you’ve lost” is a bad plot line, and if I’d trust any show to do it I would’ve thought it’d be RWBY. But I can tell you from fucking experience, forcing yourself to keep going in honor of someone? Yeah, it might keep you alive. It might give you meaning and even lead you to do great things. But when it’s just you and your head? When you’re alone because you’ve lost everyone who kept you going and now you have to keep going without them, for them? It fucking sucks. It’s not poetic. It’s not this heroic strength that lifts you up. It’s a crushing weight of fear that you will fail again, that you’re the only one who can carry this burden, but this time you’ll let down the person most important to you.  And then not only will you have fucked up your life but you’d have made their suffering and loss meaningless. 

And I can see why CRWBY might take this route, what their message might be, and maybe for them and for some people it’s good, but personally it’s crushing. Because it can be a good thing to have the desire to honor someone spur you on, that’s literally why we still have RWBY. But if that’s the only thing you have? It’s toxic. You have to have other support and motivations of your own to keep you going without becoming hollow inside. And right now, Qrow doesn’t have that. Right now, if Qrow uses this to push him forward, it’s not recovery, it’s not avoiding a relapse; it’s falling into a new, much harder to spot, addiction.

Yes, shitty things happen regardless of whether or not you’ve recovered from previous shitty things. Yes, life isn’t fair and sometimes it feels like you just get hit down over and over. And yes, people die in war and it’s ruthless and unfair. But RWBY is still a show. It’s still a show about hope. It’s still fiction, an escape from the cruelty of reality. And to me there were multiple other options for the plot to create conflict and sacrifice without doing it in a way that seems so needlessly cruel.  

This is complicated and layered and I think there have been mistakes made on multiple sides, and in the end, we still don’t know what CRWBY has planned and how things will go from here and why they chose this. Because everything has a meaning in RWBY. At least I want to believe that. But right now it’s very hard to think that all the meaning that was what made this my favorite volume, was anything more than a trap to make the end that much more painful. And that hurts. I want to believe that’s not the case. But it’s very, very hard. And like I said before, even if they pull it off amazingly and everything makes sense after next week, damage has still been done. No matter what happens, there were ways things could have been handled either throughout the volume or in this episode that, while still having emotional significance and sacrifice, could have been less traumatizing to a large portion of the fandom who supports CRWBY specifically because they trust them not to do something like that to them. 

In the end I’m hurt because right now it feels like the entirety of this volume was just a build up for the shock value of tearing Qrow down again. And I’m just tired of it. I’m biased I know, and maybe for some people it’s an important narrative. But to me it just feels like angst just for the sake of being cruel to a character who can’t catch a break. Since Emma’s death I understandably haven’t been a big fan of really angsty fanfiction. At first seeing fics where a character lost their partner made me irrationally angry. Because why can’t good things happen in fictional worlds? Why do characters I care about have to suffer like I do just for the sake of being angsty? Why would someone do that to a character they love? Why inflict that absolute agony onto a character when you could just, let them be happy? Yes conflict and sacrifice are crucial to good storytelling, but you still have to leave a character some hope, or else what’s the point of just watching them linger in misery? This kind of pain isn’t just a plot point that gets addressed for one or two episodes and then is fully dealt with. It’s a part of who you are now and will be for the rest of your life. 

I’ve been sad over shows before. I’ve thought plot lines were bad and like I’d lost a character that deserved better. But I’ve never had something take me from a (relatively) stable mindset to a truly frightening spiral like I’ve been in this week. If this had happened when I was younger (granted if it had happened before Emma’s death it wouldn’t have had the same meaning), if it had been during that first year? It really might have been a breaking point for me. The final straw. The only reason I’m able to know that as truly devastating as this has been for me this week, I’m not in actual danger of getting to a critically low space, is because I’ve learned how to deal with those low places these past four years. I’m still in a dangerous headspace but I know how to handle it.  I know to reach out, to vent, to ask friends to keep an eye on me, to keep an eye out for critical signs that I’m getting worse and I need more professional help. But if I’d had this trauma as a teen and saw this, or if I’d seen it before I’d built up this method of keeping myself safe even when in the worst headspaces?  I don’t know that I would have been able to deal with it. 

There’s a loud part of my head that is berating me for letting this affect me so much. For letting a show and fictional characters be the catalyst for me having to actively ask my friends to keep sharp instruments away from me for the first time in years. I’ll have a moment of clarity of “It’s not that bad, you’ll get past it” before being swallowed back up by the hopelessness. I have moments of “How could you let a fictional character’s death put you in this place, but not Emma? How is he more important?” 

But it’s not about RWBY or Clover or Qrow. It’s about my brain, and how I as a neurodivergent person deal with things. It’s about this how thing that I use to filter parts of my life through so that I can handle them in more reasonable chunks, is now a trigger itself. I currently don’t have any other hyperfixations, which means every time I have a moment of silence, or start to get feeling down again, my brain goes to RWBY, because usually that’s how I pull myself out. But that just reminds me of the loss RWBY currently represents. Not just the trauma this has brought up, but the fact that I’ve lost this source of comfort. And then I’m left scrambling for anything as I spiral further and further. I’m at the point where unless I am having constant outside stimulus to keep my brain occupied I go right back into a nosedive. And there’s nothing I can do on my own to stop it. So I just have to ride it out, fight back dozens of overwhelming intrusive thoughts, and try to think that I won’t always be this miserable, even though the current thing that was helping me believe that has just shown me the opposite is true. 

And no, creators can’t be held responsible for the mental states of fans of their work. But when things are done that directly hurt so many people, that even if not intended to, feel so calculated and malicious, they have to acknowledge the part they played in that trauma. 

The point of whether there was queer baiting/byg, and mlm representation and how its handled, is very important, but it is also something I just can’t even begin to look at right now from an analytical viewpoint. I can’t begin to come at this from an activist place right now. And I know there are plenty of other people who can speak on it better than I could currently.  My queer identity is largely wrapped up in my grief and how it affects me, but that also means that when I’m spiraling, it is very hard to focus and make good points about things that are not issues I’ve directly experienced. The only reason I can write this at all is because these are really just emotions I’ve dealt with for years that were dragged back up.

RWBY has always been about finding hope when it feels impossible. But this feels like it’s becoming “keep finding new hope but know you’ll lose it too and have to start over”.

RWBY has been what gave me hope that even when bad thing after bad thing happened, there was a reason to keep going, that eventually something good would come your way and you don’t have to live in fear of losing it. That you can still be broken and be worthy of good things. But this episode ripped that all away and told me that sometimes a person is never meant to be happy no matter how hard they try. 

A big reason I have clung to RWBY so much, and admired CRWBY so much, and in turn been so forgiving of plotlines or details that I maybe wasn’t the biggest fan of, was because I see myself in them. They lost Monty so suddenly and tragically and I understand that as much as anyone who isn’t them can. I understand the drive of keeping the show going. When I’m working on my own writing and art about my story and my loss, they are a huge inspiration to me to keep going even when it feels impossible. I can barely listen to Indomitable because, much like Jaune losing Pyrrha, it is uncanny how close to home it hits. They have been through more than we as fans can or should ever expect to know. Because even as someone very open about their grief, who wants to get rid of the stigma of expressing grief, I know that everyone deserves to keep as much of their grief and pain private as they need. And I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to work on a show that is literally a feat of love and honor to a person you’ve lost, and then have people attack it and you, and make huge accusations, even try to use your loved one’s memory against you. It’s my biggest fear in creating something so incredibly personal but so important. 

And I know that everyone handles grief differently, and no matter how many people you have to support you it can be an extremely isolating thing. I know that no one has the right to tell someone else they are grieving wrong, and I would never dare do that to them. Because I know that the ways I grieve and the things that piss me off about grief and people’s reactions to it, will not line up with everyone else’s, and that’s okay. So the exact things that hurt me so much may be the things that CRWBY find cathartic. 

But I still think it’s important to talk about something that hurts you. To help people understand a facet of grief that might not be what they’ve experienced. Because even people who want to help, who want to provide representation to those hurting, can never please everyone, and even can even hurt people. I want to trust CRWBY. I want to believe they care about the queer community (even if they don’t always succeed in providing good representation), I want to believe they wouldn’t purposefully try to hurt queer fans with queerbaiting or byg. I want to believe they don’t actually hate mlm. 

Narrative is complicated and sometimes things are done that will unknowingly cause harm, or that were topics that the writers didn’t understand enough to properly execute. Things that may seem so obvious to the people who were hurt could truly be things that hadn’t occurred to the writers. And that’s not to excuse those writers from acknowledging their mistake, but to give them a chance to learn and improve. I think a great example is The Adventure Zone (slight spoilers ahead), and how Griffin McElroy handled the fans’ reaction after Sloane and Hurley died in Petals to the Metal. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but he made a decision that was very upsetting for many people and that wasn’t okay. But he listened and apologized and from there on not only tried to provide better representation, but asked about how he could do so, consulted the people he was trying to represent in order to do everything he could to not cause that kind of pain again. Creators are human and deserve second chances, as long as they show they are actively trying to improve.

Things will be learning experiences, but the people who are hurt in those learning experiences, and who are often the ones hurt in such things over and over, are still allowed to be hurt and upset. Intent is not effect. And for creators who want to be inclusive and supportive, it is their responsibility to accept criticism and work to avoid making the same mistakes. Like I said at the start of this, criticism is not harassment and harassment helps no one. Be as angry as you are, be as open as you need, but cruelty to people who are honestly trying to do good but will still make human mistakes just creates more pain and conflict. You don’t have to like it or forgive it but you can’t invalidate the people who are hurt, who do. 

I love RWBY. I want to love CRWBY. I want to keep watching. I want to keep supporting and trusting them. And maybe I’m letting a show have too much influence over me. Maybe it’s unhealthy to project so much on a character. Maybe things will prove to be necessary to tell the story they want to tell. But speaking as a neurodivergent, traumatized, grieving, queer person, I still feel betrayed and hurt by something that I trusted enough to be vulnerable about and I don’t want to sugarcoat or hide that. 

I can’t say I hate CRWBY or I’ve lost all hope in or respect for them, because I’ve related to them so much and know how complicated things like this can be. And because I don’t think I personally can write someone off while still in such an emotionally raw space. I’ll have to take some time to see if I’m able to watch the finale this weekend, but I will most likely watch it, if not just a bit later than I usually would. And RWBY has thrown big surprises at us before, and I can’t know what will happen in the finale and how it will feed into or try to heal some of the pain we’re feeling. But regardless of what the narrative intent is in Clover’s death, it needs to be acknowledged that episode 12 alone, ending on such an intense scene that wouldn’t be resolved for at least a week, hurt people. And CRWBY needs to acknowledge and take responsibility for it. I can’t say that I’m the most up to date on social media and what each person involved with volume 7 has said in the past few months. But I know that numerous official twitter accounts posted things that led people to put more credibility in Fairgame, myself included. And that even after seeing how big the ship had gotten, and knowing what the outcome was, some of CRWBY continued to seemingly feed into the excitement, even teasing about how hard episode 12 would hit us. 

That’s honestly one of the reasons I think this feels not just like bad writing or something, but betrayal. Of course RT can’t control everything everyone involved with RWBY posts, but for a company that has tried to seem so supportive of lgbt and mentally ill fans, they should have, at the very least, not have fed the flame and given people hope and supposed credibility that they knew would crumble after this episode. It feels like, even if they hadn’t intended this entire plot point to come across the way it has, they saw us going down this path and egged us on for added shock factor. 

And even if somehow the finale fixes everything, it doesn’t undo that hurt. It makes me think of the trailers for Insatiable when it first came out. How toxic and fat shaming they seemed and how people reacted poorly to it, but then all the people involved responded with how positive the show was, and that people shouldn’t judge it before they saw it. Or those “joke” videos or posts of kids coming out and the parents getting angry but then it’s about some stupid other thing. It’s meant to trigger a very sensitive issue, that people who have gone through traumas related to those issues are all too familiar with seeing over and over. So why would they have faith that this wasn’t just another one of those times when everything they see points to the opposite? Why trigger people who have already been hurt, for the sake of shock factor? It’s poor and callous writing. 

And that’s what this feels like. It feels like we were exploited in order to make this hurt more. And maybe that was a very unfortunate accident. But CRWBY still needs to acknowledge that they made mistakes, and do what they can to prove to the fans that they still deserve our trust. And that’s not going to be an easy one and done thing. For some it may never be enough, and that is completely valid. 

Of course everyone has different histories and issues that can lead them to be drawn to a certain show or character. And creators can’t ever know for sure that they won’t bring up painful things for any of their fans, and often trying to do so can make the content and message suffer. But even though everyone might not have a story that is as “obviously” traumatic as mine, might not have things they so directly relate to in Qrow and in Clover’s death,  they’re all still valid in the pain they’re feeling. One of my least favorite things about living with grief is people thinking that their traumas and struggles aren’t as big or important as my own. 

This week I’ve told people how hard a time I’m having, and why. And the people who know my backstory understood. The people who didn’t know though, brushed it off as crazy fangirl, tumblr discourse drivel. Even to my face after I told them how much I was hurting, they would groan about people getting so obsessed with fictional characters. You shouldn’t have to know why something negatively affects someone the way it does in order to respect the fact that it does. And I’m not more valid in my pain than people with “smaller” reasons. The fact is that a lot of people are hurting. A lot of queer and mentally ill people are reliving trauma. And like me, many of these people trusted CRWBY to be supportive, to be a comfort in a world where it’s hard to find sometimes. And that makes it hurt all the more.

I wasn’t in the fandom when Monty died, so I don’t know a lot about how CRWBY handled it, what they said publicly, what inevitable fandom discourse there was about how to navigate things. The only reason I bring him up at all, (because I’ve seen people mention him in discourse posts before and it’s usually hurtful and out of line and I truly hate it) is because he, and how CRWBY continues to honor him by keeping his creation going, is a huge part of why I feel so attached to it. My creative focus is on talking about Emma, about honoring her, telling her story, about sharing my grief with people. And while it’s extremely important to me, it’s also terrifying to think about people one day saying I let her down, or that because I made certain decisions I ruined the work or anything like that. And whether or not I am currently happy with every member of CRWBY doesn’t affect the fact that I will always keep in mind that RWBY is something directly tied to someone they’ve lost and it can be extremely difficult to have that kind of work criticized and not get defensive or angry (that’s not to say we can’t criticize things that are made in honor of someone, but that we need to remember there are still people dealing with grief on the other end of what we say). They’ll react poorly to certain things, they’ll say the wrong things, they’ll but heads with opinionated fans. And that’s not to excuse them for that, or to say we shouldn’t hold them accountable and communicate our problems with them and expect them to learn from past mistakes. But they aren’t faceless monsters in some big corporation who just make this for the money. They have real emotional investment in their work and I honestly believe they are well intentioned and want to support lgbt and mentally ill fans. But good intentions don’t ensure there won’t be negative impact, and if they truly want to keep, or regain fans’ trust and support they need to show they understand that. 

It may be naive and there may be things I don’t know that might have changed my view but until now, even with some writing choices I didn’t love, I've really liked CRWBY and trusted them. I personally can’t say I hate them and write them off right now. I understand if you can, if this was the last straw or just proving your view, and that’s all valid. But I want to, as much as possible, believe that they’re well intentioned. RWBY is far from perfect. CRWBY is far from perfect. But that’s ok. As long as there’s effort to improve and acknowledge mistakes and try to make amends

It’s possible that things I’ve said here may anger some people, and unfortunately, as much as I tried to avoid it, may hurt CRWBY. Because as hurt and angry with them as I might be right now, I don’t want to hate them or hurt them.  I’m human as well, and I’m very passionate about this and have a very personal attachment to it. So I acknowledge that it is totally possible that I have said something here that I could have handled better. If so, please, let me know. Constructively. If you need to, privately. Don’t attack me for it. I know when a conversation is toxic to me and I will not put myself in that position and will block people. But I want to be open to criticism, just as I want CRWBY to be. I want to know what I did wrong and how I can work to do better in the future. There are also certain things that I firmly believe that I know not everyone will like. And that’s okay. I have my own ways of dealing with grief and pain that will inevitably conflict with others. In those cases, while I won’t apologize for being honest about how I feel, I will understand and listen to how I may have hurt you. Different opinions and ways of coping will always be a part of grief conversations and it is less about making others agree with you and more about giving people a place to express their pain. 

This is ridiculously, stupidly, long and honestly I’m not sure there’s a clear point and if you read through it all the way, you’re a saint. But I just needed to get this out, and I hope that maybe, somehow, through the ranting, it might help someone feel less alone in their pain, or feel validated. I started writing this on Sunday and wanted to post it before the finale. It’s now Friday and who knows if there’s really any point to posting it now, but still. 

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I don’t know how I will handle it. I’ve seen discourse that made me anxious all over again all week. I’ve seen jokes or edits or trolls that made me sick. But there are people out here for you. There are people to talk to who will just listen. You aren’t alone. And while I can’t promise you that everything will be okay, I can promise you that there will be people here to help you get through it. There are ways to get through it. They’re not always fun or ideal, but they’re there. And eventually you’ll be able to feel okay again. The pain might not be gone for good, but you’ll have good moments again. You’ll learn how to create good moments. I still want to believe that “broken” people can be happy again, even though the world may try to show me otherwise over and over. It’s not easy, and sometimes I honestly just don’t see how it can possibly be true. But I keep trying to get back to those good places and appreciate them, for as long as I can.