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amphtaminedreams · 2 years ago

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General Elections & the Race to the Bottom Ft. Zionism, Transphobia, and a Shout Out to Shithead Starmer: Thoughts No.2 (it's Always & Forever, FCK THE TORIES)

I haven’t written about politics for a couple of years now I suppose because nothing, especially when it comes to the Conservatives, shocks me anymore. Anything I read about them in the news doesn’t elicit much beyond a “just as I thought, trash” kinda response. I disengaged with current events because I’ve felt defeated and like it’s all just beyond my control, like no amount of anger we express or hurt they cause seems to change anything. Even when enough of a scandal emerges that mainstream British media is forced to report on it, it seems to blow over soon enough. Don’t know if we forgive, but it seems like we definitely always forget, regardless of how vile the ethical transgressions are.

It speaks to my privilege that I’ve been able to tap out and passively hate the government; for a lot of vulnerable groups, the policies that I can sit here and criticise without consequence directly impacts them in ways that make day to day life unbearable. I’m not in that position. For sure, I’m struggling financially, and I have watched others (and myself in the past) be let down by NHS services repeatedly but like, these are circumstances I can endure because I’m not grasping at straws to survive as is the case for these groups. The increasing rate of climate change fills me with dread on a day to day basis but because the part of the world I live in is relatively untouched, this sense of detachedness allows me to delude myself into thinking that things can’t really be as bad as they seem and ya know, somebody might invent something in the meantime to reverse it. Up 'til now, it's the only thing that stops me from questioning what the point of anything is. This is possible only because I have the luxury of never being present to witness the place I’ve grown up in become inhabitable. I’ve never had to directly confront climate change in a way that is immediately threatening to my livelihood. So like I say, I am ridiculously privileged to be able to look at politicians like Rishi Sunak, Jacob Rees-Mogg, Priti Patel, and the rest of them, pushing us further away from commitments to slow climate change and do little beyond thinking of fucking course, what else would I expect from tight-fisted, near-sighted, arrogant and uncaring individuals as them and the rest of the upper class who all, I imagine believe that, when the time comes, they can pull a Kimberley Kardashian and hire their private firefighters, or hop on whatever new iteration there is of SpaceX a couple of decades from now, and escape from the carnage.

Anyway, going back to the point, I kinda came to the conclusion (yep, the one everyone has been screaming for years) that the entire political system in the West is kinda rigged:-)

Everything about it was making me angry. Joined the Labour Party under Corbyn, and within a few months of Starmer taking over, I left. The only sentiment I had post-Corbyn was a somewhat tepid belief that perhaps the Labour Party were the slightly lesser of 2 evils. Since then, this difference is so marginal, it is meaningless, which is no better summarised than by Keir Starmer’s refusal to condemn Israel’s actions despite their being in violation of international human rights laws against collective punishment, and moreover, DESPITE HIM BEING A FORMER HUMAN FUCKING RIGHTS LAWYER. This, along with his vocal agreement with Rishi Sunak’s public declaration of transphobia has all but confirmed his label as the “opposition” to the PM is redundant. I say this as if his contributions to both these issues are really not just the icing on the cake of his failure to hold the Conservatives responsible in any meaningful way since he was elected the Labour leader, which they 1000% are.

Where this has caused me to pretty much disengage with politics the last couple of years and instead become resigned to the declining state of the country, his outright agreement with some of the tremendously harmful stances Rishi Sunak has taken over the last month have me absolutely fucking FUMING. When the lines between the motivations of the 2 dominant political parties start to blur to this extent and the mainstream media does nothing but reinforce their ideologies, essentially nothing more than to preserve the wealth of the establishment, it starts to feel like we are heading towards what is, for all intents and purposes, a single party state. I’m sure when the next general election comes, Starmer will run a bullshit campaign on the promise of change, but so far his actions point to him being in favour of nothing of the sort. Who knows, maybe people are so sick and tired of life under the Conservatives that they will vote based on empty promises. If we can all be vocal in identifying the principles of the insidious playbook the majority of prominent politicians seem to ascribe to at present, however, and the harm and damage it does, maybe (don’t get me wrong, my hope that this will actually happen is minute) Labour MPs will realise that they need to do something fundamentally differently if they want to win an election. That means no more deflection away from the decisions politicians make to retain their status and privilege by targeting and villainising the groups that these decisions often directly threaten. IDK if it’s just that being in anorexia recovery has the cogs in my brain working efficiently enough to be able to see over the parapet of the obsessive food and body image trenches, and that this is what’s facilitating me feeling so repulsed by the stances our political leaders have taken over the last month, but regardless, something about this recent bullshit feels particularly morally reprehensible and like we all need to be talking about it. Wilful ignorance for the sake of wellbeing be damned because the normalisation of transphobia by the Prime Minister and leader of the opposition as well as their unequivocal support of the Israeli government’s ethnic cleansing in the name of “self-defence” is EVIL. Never has the complete disregard of intrinsic human rights and dignity, self-determination and quality of life for all in the name of greed, pride, and ego been so clear, and it feels wrong to be complacent. The 1% believe themselves to be the only people governing this country because their threshold for competent governance is not to create and maintain a system that preserves its citizens’ wellbeing indiscriminate of demographic, which is what a government is supposed to fucking do, but instead uphold their own privilege and frequently, unearned economic advantage of the in-group they belong to. They mistake the cycle of wealth they come from given this has been the reigning doctrine for the last 40 years (though on a smaller scale it has undoubtedly occurred since the beginning of time) as proof that they earned the responsibility of their jobs. So business as usual is the bar. The rest of us can fuck off.

But people are angry. A lot of people don’t know why they are angry, or the mental energy to know who they are angry at, they just know their money doesn’t go as far as it used to, the towns they live in are turning into shitholes, poverty is more visible than ever, and their lives are dominated by jobs which stagnated wages make increasingly soul-crushing as more and more businesses cut hours to either increase the profits of the 1% or because, especially if they belong to government funded civil services, their employers can no longer afford them. That’s why they’re angry. And let’s simplify that, because as much as the Tories like to blame it all on past governments, DESPITE being in power for 13 years now, here is a simple bit of cause and effect:

Effect: Fear of Job Security and the Lack of Viable Government Safety Nets

I think most people can agree that unemployment shouldn’t equate to starvation or homelessness. But hey! You are Sophie and the Tories Universal Credit system is here to give you the wonderful choice between one or the other. Aren’t they gracious?

Cause:

The rising cost of living in tandem with an increase in benefit sanctions, the 42 day delay in UC payment, and the decision to decrease benefits across the board means that more people than ever are finding themselves in rent arrears and using foodbanks to eat enough to survive. In recent days, the government have even planned on reforming the way that disability payments are made; the proposed new system would do away with requiring applicants to undergo an interview process (which many already report to be a distressing process where they are made to feel, despite already having provided legitimate evidence to support their claims, they must “prove” they are unwell enough to face obstacles in holding down a typical job) and instead oblige them to meet with a work coach who determines if they are “making enough effort” to find a job or else face sanctions.

To get down to the numbers:

As of November 2023, a single person receives just £83 per week in Universal Credit. This is intended to cover everything from food and transport to bills and basic household needs. This falls short of the £120 P/W the Trussell Trust calculated as the minimum amount required to cover these things.

85.5% of foodbank users reported they rely on Universal Credit for their income; the clear implication here is that as predicted, UC payments are not enough to cover even the most basic necessities (Trussell Trust, State of Hunger survey, 2019).

The number of people who do depend on food banks has reached unparalleled numbers in recent years, steadily increasing since 2010. To put this into perspective, the number of food packages handed out per year has increased from 60,000 in 2010 to 2.5 million in 2022 (Alex Collinson, the Tribune, 2022).

Between 2022 and 2023, the number of children in food poverty doubled, with an additional 4,000,000 children now falling beneath this line. This is unsurprising, given the rate of inflation on groceries has risen to a record high of 17.1% between 2022 and 2023. UC has not been increased to reflect this (Patrick Butler, the Guardian).

This is perhaps reflective of the fact that where only parents were using food banks before, with UC being enough to cover meals for the children if the parents sacrificed their own meals, this amount no longer even covers the nutritional requirements of a child.

So! What has changed so drastically since 2010? Crazy coincidence but that’s ALSO the year One Direction bestie David Cameron introduced the UC system as a replacement for the existing benefits system. All this to say that the government safety net, which one would think should provide the means for people to literally survive, doesn’t actually do that. Starvation tends to be a bit of a health and safety risk, babes, I would know xo

Bottom line, UC denies people access to things that should be basic human rights on the basis of what? That they don’t have a job? To quote Charlie Kelly:

Okay, assume an individual truly just can’t be fucked to get a job. Assume all jobs are fulfilling and meaningful and that the same can be said of the application process, that every job industry is a meritocracy where nepotism ceases to exist. Assume alll jobs, regardless of sklls required, pay enough on full time hours to have at least a little bit left to do a couple of nice things and treat yourself at the end of the month. Assume that we aren’t experiencing another of what we were told after 2008 would be a once in a lifetime economic recession. Assume that the majority of people who are on Jobseeker’s Allowance are not disabled and physically incapable of working (go out and get better! Lazy fucks! They say. Oh yes, hang on a minute whilst I go and put myself on the 2000 year long NHS waiting list to get the bare minimum course of treatment so I’m well enough to get a shit job which makes me too depressed to leave the house alllll over again). Does that mean they deserve to starve? Sleep in shop doorways when it's -2 degrees? And what about children of parents on UC? Do they deserve it to for the crime of being born to those “lazy fucks”? Because there are more children living in poverty in the UK than ever.

Lovely stuff:-)

Speaking of those beautiful waiting lists…

Effect: Collapse of the NHS:

-The number of people on waiting lists for non-urgent care has now bypassed 7,200,000. This refers to procedures like hip replacements, hernia repairs and cataract removal. Where the targeted referral period should be no longer than 18 weeks (a regulation that was introduced in 2004), as of 2023, 410,983 of this 720 million have been waiting over a year (Denis Campbell, the Guardian).

-The total number of excess deaths in 2022 was among the highest recorded since the aftermath of the Second World War, according to figures from the Continuous Mortality Investigation (CMI). In December 2022, the number of people who passed away in their homes rather than in hospital care was 40% higher than the 5 year average (bearing in mind this 5 year period includes the pandemic). Though this is argued to be “speculation” as we “don’t know how many people chose to die at home rather than in hospital and left it late to seek medical help for this reason” (lmao) this figure should be considered in the context of an increase in average wait times for category 2 ambulances from 18 minutes to over an hour. Category 2 ambulances refer to those dispatched to attend to patients in need of urgent care, suffering life threatening medical crises which include heart attack and stroke. So really. If we are honest about why more people than ever are dying at home, the answer is right there. The difference between waiting 18 minutes for an ambulance during a heart attack and over an hour is life or death. And in its current state, the outcome under NHS care is death.

-Even if you get to hospital, the roulette wheel of life or death don’t stop spinning under the Conservatives. Analysis by LCP Actuaries suggested that as many as 500 deaths a week could be caused by delays in A&E; in November 2022, the number of people who waited over 12 hours to be admitted to hospital after being seen in A&E was greater than the total number of people who waited over 12 hours to be admitted to hospital after being seen in A&E throughout the entire 9 year period between 2011 and 2020. This 500 per week figure is based on the LCP’s estimation from the data that for every 72 people waiting more than 12 hours to be admitted to hospital, one of those 72 will die in that waiting period compared to the 2010 average (Daniel Dunford for Sky News, January 2023). We can also assume that many who present at urgent care are there because non-urgent conditions have become urgent during the waiting period.

-Is it so fucking wild that being this overstretched, seeing more suffering and having even fewer recourses to cope with it than ever, NHS workers would want a pay rise? I mean, it’s pretty fucking fair to me. At the very least, I would like to think they deserve a pay rise that even if not accounting for the added burden they’re taking on at work, does account for rising cost of living to avoid a situation where, in real terms, they’re actually making less money than they were when the job was more manageable. But no! Below inflation pay increases mean that in real terms, NHS staff have been facing consistent cuts to their wages. To produce a few specific examples, paramedics’ real pay is down by £6,700 compared to 2010, nurses’ are down by £5,200 and maternity care assistants’ are down by £4,300 (TUC report, June 2022). So yeah! Clap for the NHS guys, says the government! Just don't fucking treat them with empathy and respect for doing one of the hardest jobs a person can possibly do by rewarding them in the material terms we quite clearly know from our own pay rises (which there is conveniently always enough money for) are what make an actual difference.

-All this has resulted in a record number of healthcare professionals leaving the profession as of October 2022 according to the Health Service Journal’s report. For anyone who doubts that, I hope this quote summarising the overwhelming responses of NHS staff when an internal survey was conducted puts your mind to rest: results show "40% of staff had felt unwell because of work-related stress, 21% wanted to quit the NHS, 78% experienced unrealistic time pressures and fewer than a third felt their organisation took firm action to improve staff wellbeing.” (Mark Britnell, the Guardian)

-Of course, the party play ignorant as to why on earth this might be (those selfish doctors and nurses, am I right?) in spite of workers making the answers to this question ridiculously clear, time and time again. When Jeremy Hunt attempted to pass a bill which may somewhat remedy the issue, and called for an independent commission of ministers to estimate the number of nurses and doctors that will be needed over the next 5-20 years and how this can be done, it was blocked by the majority of MPs (Polly Toynbee, the Guardian). Yeah, the opportunity for the government to fix this staff shortage they blame the entirety of the NHS’ problems on is apparently not enough of a problem for them to actually do something about it. Shocker! It suits them perfectly well to have a ready conveyer belt of scapegoats as I will go onto in a bit and when it comes to the NHS, which the average member of the British public will agree is falling apart regardless of political leaning, NHS employees are the ones to blame. BTW, do not take the Jeremy Hunt mention as a defence of him, lmao. He has very much earned the title his critics give him.

-This staff shortage is further contributed to by the large portion of the NHS workforce held up by immigrants to the UK (with frontline staff from 212 nationalities consistently working harder and longer considering the salaries they are paid, Dolin Bhagawati, the Independent) who have since left the country courtesy of the hostile environment created by the government. Honestly, who can fucking blame them when Conservatives have spent the last 10 years in the blaming them for, like, every problem ever? Be it the need for excessive benefits actions, council housing waiting lists, and job shortages over the past decade-nothing to see here, it's just those pesky immigrants! It is no surprise that when Brexit came around, and this carefully cultivated culture of xenophobia mixed with outright lies about just how much our membership of the EU was “bringing us down”, that the majority vote was to leave. The result of this was a slew of deportations, refusals of settled status and a voluntary exodus in the aftermath, with the NHS being badly hit. The most fucking audacious thing about all this is whilst continuing to oust them, whilst continuing to pretend immigrants drain the recourses of this country, the truth is the polar opposite: a study conducted by Oxford University in 2015, (a University which may I remind you all was attended by several top tory ministers themselves, from which one would reasonably assume they view as a reliable source of information unless they wish for us to question their own credentials:-) ) surveying 125 million patient records found that a 10 percentage-point increase in migrants leads to reduced waiting times of nine days for outpatient referrals, with no effect on waits for A&E or elective care.

-And in spite of all of this, the pleas from both employees and the public for the government to act, in real terms, are looking at yet more NHS funding cuts of £20 billion by 2024. If that isn’t enough of a reason to demand better, and understand that these people do not give a fuck about the lives of the average human being then I do not. Know. What. Is. This is the truth of the matter. They will claim otherwise with bold face lies. Remember how “40” new hospitals turned into 6? The maths ain’t maths-ing, and all that.

Cause:

Again, I ask, what has changed in the last 10 years to see this drastic reduction in the capabilities of the NHS? Why the refusal to do anything meaningful to solve the crisis? Drum roll, please! That’s it, it’s government policy! We’re talking annual NHS budget increases being slashed by over HALF the rate they were annually increased under Tony Blair, 3.6% a year under his administration to 1.5% under David Cameron. And why? If the response of the COVID crisis is anything to go by, the dismantling of the NHS to be sold off to the highest bidders and party donors, just as Jeremy Corbyn predicted a few years ago, is not a last resort but actually, the preferable outcome. Don’t even get me started about the mental health treatment crisis in the NHS. For real. That’s a whole new post in and of itself, from waiting lists that stretch to upwards of 6 months even for those experiencing a mental health crisis, less inpatient beds than ever, and the increasing number of professionals leaving the job.

Effect: Your hometown’s gotten GRIM

Funding for publicly accessible infrastructure is lower than ever. It’s not limited to the NHS either. This is despite a growing population. You could take my anecdotal evidence of how the police put me on hold like I’m on the phone to the fucking Ryanair refund devision when I called 999 from work the other day to attempt to get them to come to intervene in a quickly escalating altercation between one of the many crack addicts who steal from the store and the security guard, or how they’ve taken about 2-3 hours to arrive when I’ve had to call them to help with situations there before BUT as a fan of numbers myself, here are some to paint a clear picture of how and why all public sector services from the police force and the legal system, to local libraries, parks, state schools (guess where the money they so desperately need are being diverted to tehe) are all being similarly drained, i.e why everywhere outside central London is turning into a shithole.

Cause:

-Between 2010 and 2020, funding for public libraries reduced from £1 billion to £750,000,000. Unsurprisingly, this resulted in upwards of 700 libraries being forced to shut during this period. Some people may not see the significance of this but it can’t be understated how many depend on libraries to access services they can’t otherwise afford, whether it’s to support their education and level a playing field which increasingly demands students self-fund various elements of their curriculum or degree/qualification, use IT facilities to apply for jobs, pay bills etc. or even just to read to give themselves a bit of joy in life! Any one of these things could be vital to someone trying to grow and develop. How can we expect someone who’s recovering from addiction, and experiencing homelessness, or who is trying to rehabilitate themselves after a stint in prison, for example, to build themselves a fulfilling life if everything that gives the average person joy, and provides healthy and enriching social support, is kept behind a paywall?

-City councils, responsible for the management and maintenance of a multitude of areas and services (e.g. open green spaces, rubbish collection and recycling, parks, and leisure centres to name a few) throughout the region they cover, have faced real term reductions in government funding of £15 billion between 2010 and 2020. This has led to increases in council tax to plug this gap. Youth services, which are absolutely vital to ensure equal opportunities for young people going through arguably the most influential stage of their life, in terms for how they’re set up for the future, have been particularly badly hit. To illustrate the point, the YMCA reported in November 2022 that the government expenditure diverted to local authorities specifically for Youth Services has decreased in real terms from £1.48 billion in 2010 to £379m in 2020, which represents a decrease in funding of 74%.

-Education has faced huge cuts, £10 billion in real terms between 2010 and 2020, and it’s absolutely no fucking surprise whatsoever that schools in the most disadvantaged areas have been hit hardest; the Institute of Fiscal Studies reported a 14 per cent real-terms fall in spending per pupil between 2009/10 and 2019/20 for those studying at schools with the highest levels of deprivation compared with a 9 per cent drop for the least deprived schools (all figures from Sam Gelder for the Big issue). This translates to higher numbers of pupils per teacher, fewer teaching assistants, fewer recourses to support special educational needs, and outdated curriculums and technology, which has a knock on effect on pupils’ ability to deal with the demands of higher education and the workplace. The decreased quality of learning those already experiencing the effects of food poverty or falling through the social services nets which are intended to protect children from harm and uphold safe home environments fails young people in setting them up for the their future. I could go all psychology undergrad here and waffle on about the effects of growing up around parental stress as a result of financial strain, illness, absenteeism due to long work hours and necessary overtime just to provide for the family, and harmful gene-environment interactions, and how this has consistently shown to have statistically significant negative effects on long term outcomes but I think we all have enough anecdotal evidence to know that our relationships with our parents, the safety of our home environment, our leisure opportunities and all that jazz are massively influential in our life paths. Bearing in mind I went to a good state school and am generalising to those in a similar average, middle class neighbourhood, I think most of us knew people in school who weren’t necessarily suited to traditional ways of learning and assessment but worked their fucking arse off and wanted to learn, and have done well for themselves because of that. But imagine if you’re in a class where teachers are too overstretched to do anything other than recycle the same PowerPoints they’ve used for 10 years, have too many students to provide one to one support, and are practically inaudible amongst a bunch of noisy other kids who may see the opportunity to socialise as the highlight of their day if they have a crap home life. I have been in the situation where the teacher is genuinely giving a good lesson but cannot hold the room because there’s so much disruption on account of numbers and reciprocal distraction going on amongst classmates-that may be the nerdiest statement I’ve ever come out with but it genuinely used to make me sad seeing them properly try only for it to fall on deaf ears. When learning is taught in a way presuming one size fits all due to teachers deprived of the time or energy to be flexible and attentive, those who don’t learn in that very rigid way are bound to struggle. When we look at how all these factors borne of reduced government funding can accumulate to limit the ability of young people to succeed and get where they want to be in life, to be inspired and encouraged to learn regardless of external influences, falling GCSE and A-level results running parallel to funding cuts paint a clear picture of the claims of economic mobility for the "hard working" and this country being a "true meritocracy" by the Tories is a load of shite. Though it appears the attainment gap between private and public schools may actually be narrowing in recent years, the attainment gap over the last 20 years pertaining to the students from high-income households vs. low-income remains unchanged. This is best summarised by the following quote from the Institute for Fiscal Studies: “While GCSE attainment has been increasing over time, 16-year-olds who are eligible for free school meals are still around 27 percentage points less likely to earn good GCSEs than less disadvantaged peers.” (Sally Weale, the Guardian).

Effect: We’re all broke asf and it feels like we always will be

Rent, bills, fuel, groceries, pretty much everything is more expensive than ever, and for young people especially, it feels as though even the guarantee of a roof over our heads let alone owning property is tenuous. A recent survey Together Through This Crisis initiative revealed that nearly 40% of people end the month with no money left, while 24% run out of money for essentials either most months or most days. And yep, can confirm, at least on my end anyway. The Gym Group just slid into my text messages for the second month in a row to let me know my direct debit payment bounced and that I will consequently be charged an extra £15 admin fee when they attempt to charge me again in 10 days. Thankfully, payday will have come by then but given I haven’t been able to afford Christmas presents yet, I imagine it’ll be a similar situation next month. It probably doesn’t count as the kind of essential these kinds of surveys are talking about but anorexia recovery weight restoration (and then some) has me truly on the struggle bus and the gym is absolutely critical in getting me through that. Sure, I probably spend way too much on vaping too. All that being said, I have had to borrow money until payday to do my weekly food shop far more times than I'd like to this year. Fuck getting my eyelashes done or fixing my godawful roots or any vanity costs or anything like that being within budget rn. I’m trying to lean into being in my ugly era but honestly, it fucking sucks stressing about being able to afford day to day life, let alone thinking about spending money on stuff just for my own leisure or happiness. I work 30+ hours most weeks, which I don’t expect to let me live a life of luxury when it’s a retail line management job, but we’re understaffed AF, you rarely have time for a proper break in a 9 hour shift, and you’re running around like a headless chicken trying to get everything done the whole time. You’d think for the amount of stress the salary would at least cover the cheapest gym membership on offer but not in this economy fellas:-)

With that little self-indulgent ramble off my chest, let’s get back to the facts.

Cause:

Though the sharp increase in cost of living was arguably not necessarily intended, because ya know, like everyone is pissed about this, including the people who would overlook the other things to vote conservative, and they need the votes, it has been a long time coming given the way the Conservatives have 1). failed to plan for anything beyond coming out on top in their ongoing power struggles and 2). promoted corporate greed, for the last 10 years. The tories would like people to believe that they are prioritising the housing crisis, rising rent, inflation etc. because they want to honour the average person’s grievances but let’s be clear, their priority is and always has been the preservation of wealth within a certain subsection of society, and anything they do outside of that to address the issues this has created is damage control. Empty promises and inaction, essentially. This includes:

Failure to act on Legislation to Restore the Balance Between Tenants and Landlords: Whilst the waters are slightly murkier when it comes to capping rent increases by social housing landlords (caps on rent increases have been proposed but in real terms, this is going to make little difference given years of neglecting the issue of affordable housing by the Conservatives), private landlords continue to get away with whatever the hell they want, and yep, can personally vouch for that one too. The desperate attempt to paint over black mould that our landlord claimed had 0 to do with structural issues and allll to do with our “not heating the flat properly” (the multiple plumbing problems over the past 2 years, the numerous tins of identical solidified white paint previous tenants had brought stored in the outside cupboard, and evidence of previous coats of paint over the same area suggest otherwise but hey ho, don't you just love the burden of proof being on the tenant!) in our last few hours left in the place after the new proposed rental contract increased the monthly cost for my 2 flatmates and I by £150 each due to the “cost of living” and we had to move out, because he wouldn’t tell me how much he’d deduct from the deposit because of the problem…that was fun! I hope he really enjoys all the money he got from selling the property once we were gone. Hope that covers your cost of living, buddy:-) But anyway, it’s illustrative of a larger issue, where most of us are out of options, and have to just put up with this kind of thing, because the situation isn’t any better elsewhere. An early 2023 poll by YouGov indicated millions of private tenants in England were “stretched to breaking point”, with almost 2.5 million renters either behind or constantly struggling to pay rent, a number which had increased by 45% since April 2022.

Despite repeatedly claiming that restoring tenant rights was a key party objective, even including an end to Section 21 in their 2019 Manifesto and sparking a degree of backlash from Landlords in return, as of October 2023 the Conservative Government have further delayed legislation banning no-fault evictions. Coincidentally (so by absolutely no coincidences whatsoever), 68 sitting conservative MPs act as landlords for multiple properties, constituting 1/5 of their majority (John Stevens, the Mirror). This has been blamed on the need to clear court backlogs which have increasingly become an issue in the context of yet more funding cuts being faced throughout the criminal justice system.

On this note, it’s worth taking you on a little side quest here to give you this fun fact:

There is a backlog of 60,000 criminal court cases, with 75% of individuals under the care of the criminal justice system still awaiting sentencing (Catherine West for HamHigh, October 2023). I don’t state this for the sake of scaremongering and spreading a “more criminals than ever are running loose on your streets! Beware, feeble citizen!” Rhetoric because yes, whilst it is true there are a number of dangerous individuals who have not yet been prosecuted due to the collapsing criminal justice system (I’m not going to list all the reported cases of sexual predators who have fallen through the net of just sentencing due to this chaos and gone onto reoffend but they’re out there if you wish to read up on it for yourself), we have plenty of dangerous individuals also presiding over our country who will never see any kind of sentence not because of the justice system their complacency and greed has helped destroy but because they got cash moneys! The point in this is that prisons are intended to rehabilitate. There is a good chance that many repeat offenders would never have reoffended if prisons were fit for their intended purpose. Instead, given a lack of substantial wider investment, reform, and strain on court and community services to support rehabilitation post-imprisonment, the issue of severe overcrowding (which was reportedly the case in over 60% of UK prisons in 2015 according to a report published as part of a parliamentary inquiry) and staff resignations create an environment which is at best chaotic, and at worst, traumatising for all those incarcerated, reflected by incidences of self-harm and violence being higher than ever. This points to a system which operated in a way completely antithetical to the aim of aiding reintegration of offenders to their communities. Despite a pledge of £1.3 billion to create 10,000 new prison places by 2020, the Public Accounts Committee reported in September of that year that just 206 of these have been fulfilled. In fact, a £900 million maintenance backlog to Victorian era prisons results in a loss of 500 prison placements each year.

If the knock on the effect of the £18 billion cost by reoffending doesn’t summarise the complete lack of foresight on the part of Conservative ministers, I don’t know what does. You would think anyone with a single oxygenated brain cell would predict this being an outcome of court closures, reduced numbers of judges, police and local authority cut backs etc. etc. but nope! The solution is outsourcing incarceration overseas? Yep. Don’t let immigrants into the country but demand that the simultaneously most vulnerable and dangerous individuals, not uncommonly in that predicament because of a Conservative Party engineered absence of opportunities, guidance, and safety within their communities, become their problem. Sounds fair.

Anyway! To get back to the cost-of-living crisis, starting with:

-Housing: Despite demand for social housing increasing drastically over the last 10 years (homelessness reportedly doubled between 2010 and 2018, with a February 2023 report by the Metro revealing a 74% increase in rough sleeping since the Conservative Government took power), there are now 200,000 fewer council homes available than there were in 2010, and the building of new houses has fallen by 80% (John Healy, Labour Shadow Secretary of State for Housing). In efforts to meet targets set for the development of what constitutes “affordable housing”, this threshold was increased to include houses up to £450,000, at which price the corresponding deposits and mortgage payments are realistically within the budget of a fractional portion of first time buyers; consequently, 800,000 fewer households under 45 own their home than was reported in 2010.

-According to a report by the National Audit Office in 2019, not one of the 200,000 “starter homes” promised in 2015 by Conservative Ministers have been built. Instead, the £151 million set aside for this project has been used to buy and remediate land which has been sold to developers. In this context, it is no surprise that the number of households which fall under the privately rented sector have increased by over one million since 2010.

-Let’s talk about the BILLS too: Britiain has always been in a vulnerable spot when it comes to energy, with our domestic gas storage levels significantly lower than many other countries at comparative levels of economic development. Successive Conservative government ministers’ lack of impetus to invest in this, including their complete refusal to listen when existing structures began to fail and warn of further significant depletion to our energy supply, as well as their lackadaisical approach to developing a way of utilising efficient forms of renewable energy has left the country dependent on external global forces, without any back-up plan (where other European countries have internal energy stores to supply consumers for weeks if shipments were to be ceased, Britain has only 4 days worth; The Spectator, September 2021), whilst simultaneously allowing those who make their money through the exploitation of natural recourses to sit on ever-increasing mounds of wealth; the consumer, not those who have failed to focus on the shift away from processes which serve only to pollute or planet and adapt, is forced to take on the burden of maintaining the level of profit those with stakes in such companies have become accustomed to by subsidising the overheads with our money (Ed Miliband, the Independent). Of course the pandemic meant that energy was in short supply on a global level-the reason that average energy prices for US consumers has only doubled whilst it has increased almost fivefold here is because the government do not value any system in which they do not themselves stand to benefit, even if that is the source of immense hardship for the average British person.

-So what the hell are all our taxes going towards I hear you asking. Well, they’re footing the bill of the people who need financial relief least of all who themselves are making bigger profits than ever on the backs of the increasing number of British people whose quality of life has sharply declined, even to the extent that civil servants in full time employment, NHS employees ffs (again, who wouldn’t want to work there!!! What are those nurses THINKING), are accessing services established for those falling beneath the poverty line. They’re the fucking catalyst for this cost of living that is making people more dependent on increasingly non-existent public services than ever.

When I say this, I mean corporate profits are higher than ever, even after last few years of global events which have impacted on the prices of imports, exports, and consumer habits, all of which should suggest higher expenses and lower sales. Rather than take a small hit to corporate profits in order to absorb the additional expenses on trade with foreign entities, or raise the wages of workers to encourage household spending across the economic landscape, shareholders with management roles in their respective mega corporations have decided to raise prices of their goods. This is not just rhetoric; profit margins for the biggest British companies were 73% higher in 2021 on 2019, pre-Covid, even though sales had fallen (Owen Jones, the Guardian).

Consider Shell, a company directly responsible for the continued destruction of our eco-system, and their reported adjusted profits of $11.5bn during the second quarter of 2022, even as Russia’s invasion of Ukraine caused global energy markets to soar, and gas and electric prices for consumers in the UK increased by astronomical amounts (Jillian Ambrose, the Guardian).

Shell are a clear cut example of how big business owners, as well as the managers and directors who more often than not represent major shareholders, would rather consumers foot the bill of their own expenses and spread their household income even thinner, to fund the lifestyles they’ve become accustomed to as well as their reinvestments to facilitate the growth of even more wealth, rather than themselves take a minimally smaller chunk of the pie. This same approach is not taken when it comes to preserving the lifestyles of actual employees mind you, whose wages remain stagnated, declining in terms of the actual purchasing power afforded to these employees by their salary. This decision to preserve shareholder returns at any cost to the consumer is particularly insidious when we think about the businesses that monopolise industries specialising in goods completely necessary to decent quality of life and basic human necessities like Shell.

And where do the Conservatives come into this? Well, because where they shove austerity down the throat of the ordinary British person, tell us to reduce our spending, the same cannot be said for their instructions to corporate shareholders. Where our taxes have risen, the declaration that the surcharge on bank profits (i.e. the extra they pay in corporation tax) would be raised by 6% is no longer going ahead. The amount above which these banks must pay the surcharge has similarly been raised from £75,000,000 to £100,000,000. That’s an extra £25,000,000 they will no longer be taxed on (Taxscape, Deloitte, November 2023).

We are told that if we want to live in this country, we must pay our taxes to contribute to its smooth governance, even as these increase. They are told the exact opposite, despite their businesses not only residing here, but actually making coin off the country’s inhabitants. Individuals pay to be in this country, and when you look at the average person, the more we make, the more we have to pay. If you dare not to pay your taxes, or if you’re self-employed and misreport them in any way, you are a criminal. It seems the rule of make more, pay more, or be prosecuted for it, only applies up to a certain threshold.

If you are a mega-corporation, you are perfectly welcome to evade paying taxes. Whoops, did I say evade? I meant avoid, soz. Only I still don’t know exactly what the difference is apart from the latter being the label given to the activities of big business, legal on the basis they spend extortionate amounts of money for legal representation to poke holes in the famously holey regulations about these kinds of things.

The Conservatives have presided over a legal system filled with loopholes that practically encourage it, and have made the Britain a haven for tax avoidance. Deregulation of the financial market in the City of London means that what counts as tax avoidance vs. Evasion, illegally vs. simply immoral, is decided on a case-by-case basis (John Warren, Bella Caledonia), and as is previously established, what kind of a public court system do we even have right now anyway? Under a fair system where big business, and those who profit from it, are held to the same standard as the actual people living in this country, we could develop and implement solutions to an astonishing number of social ills. Instead, wealth is saturated further still at the top, and the financial burdens continue to pile on and are exacerbated for those at the bottom. UK Uncut’s estimates of lost tax revenue come to some £100 billion over four years-and the National Audit Office finding in 2007 was that a third of the UK’s biggest companies paid no tax at all in this country in the previous boom year.

I’m not arguing the City being used as a way to conduct business in overseas territories to avoid tax is a phenomena borne of the current government. What I’m saying is that where that might have flown without causing much damage to the British people prior to the 2008 financial crash, the subsequent increase in the national deficit to bail out the same companies which participate in this tax avoidance and whose activities were behind the global economic crisis has been framed as a burden the average individual has to now shoulder through the Conservative’s policy of “austerity” and the increased taxes and cost of living that come as a part of this. Meanwhile, the big businesses responsible for this financial crisis are allowed to continue as they always have despite their refusal to take responsibility for the crisis, and avoid being subject to the same austerity, due to the desire of many Conservative MPs to continue to benefit from these activities and retain the power afforded to them by donations from these companies. Take Lycamobile, the UK-headquartered international mobile virtual network operator, who have been in the news this week. We’re talking a company who gifted £2.15mn to the Tories between 2011 and 2016, according to the Electoral Commission database, without paying a penny of tax in this country since 2007. Unethical but based on technicalities, not illegal. The Paris criminal court, however, have just this past October convicted Lycamobile’s French corporate entities of committing fraud with respect to value added tax and money laundering (Lucy Fisher, Jim Pickard and Yasemin Craggs Mersinoglu in London and Leila Abboud and Sarah White in Paris, Financial Times, October 2023). Turns out in countries where firms like Lycamobile can be held accountable, they are. Sunak is being pressured to return donations, which I’m sure he would do if he stood for anything, and thus was suitably horrified by this revelation. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t yet returned anything. Maybe he will to save face, who knows. What is for certain is that it was public knowledge that Lycamobile were doing what they could to avoid tax here for over a decade and concerns about financial fraud had already been raised in October 2015, and given the Conservative government had no problem with that if their acceptance of a £600,000 donation following this revelation is anything to go by, they likely would have had no problem with this if it hadn’t be called to international attention. In fact, reports that in 2017 HMRC rejected a request from French officials to raid Lycamobile’s London offices suggests that tax cheats are actively encouraged in their activities under the current government, which, well, we been knew. Conservative ministers like to talk a big game about challenging tax evasion, but the evidence, the leak of the Pandora Papers just to give one example (the largest ever such leak exposed the secret offshore holdings and finances of several wealthy donors to the Tory party), suggests otherwise. Whilst David Cameron promised the development of a register identifying people who own UK property through offshore companies, allll the way back in 2015 (David Conn, the Guardian), we’ve seen crickets on this front.

So yah. It’s the hypocrisy for me, the throwing of the people for whom the concept of government was formed under the proverbial bus, all whilst lying to our faces. This doesn’t stop at accepting donations from shadowy companies. Remember the reports about the land purchased under the guise of being designated for starter homes? Makes a lot more sense that it was sold off to developers when you consider that Anthony Bamford, who runs JC Bamford Excavators, the yellow digger company founded by his father, Joseph Cyril Bamford, was the fourth most important source of political party donations for any party in the 2019 election and the Tories’ top donor that year, according to a 2022 study by the University of Warwick.

They say that wealth is self-creating but the same is infinitely true of poverty. The inability to plan ahead, the short-term need to borrow money, the volatile environment financial stress creates for a household, it all contributes to long-term negative financial outlooks that outlast temporary financial difficulties on a national, global scale, without genuine, sincere efforts by the government to level the playing field. Whatever the Conservatives say about doing this to win votes, they rarely follow through-that they remain themselves part of the 1%, the elite, privileged circle they have gotten used to, requires they do not bite the hand that feeds them, instead that they lap it up eagerly, and ethics can get fucked. It has been established time and time again that a number of Conservative MPs themselves have stakes in businesses using offshore tax havens (Geoffrey Cox, the Independent). This points to the fact that they see their roles as nothing more than a means of preserving their own status, and that is the only thing of value to them when they are conducting themselves within the political sphere, rather than the pursuit of the intended goal of a representative system which is to serve the best interests of the people.

Human life does not factor into the equation, and consequently, neither do our interests if they do not serve the elite in some way. This is never clearer than in times of crisis: see the way contracts for emergency medical supplies were handed to tory donors left right and centre rather who wasted time analysing how to make a profit rather than actually respond to said emergency, and how lower-level employees at big businesses were forced to reopen doors far earlier than was safe to do so given the fears of redundancy, which reached an all time high during COVID. Had the government response (let us all remember Boris Johnson failed to attend several meetings designated to address the pandemic and simply advised us all to “wash our hands” prior to the rapid increase in case numbers but yeah, the shite response of the UK government to COVID really isn’t one I need to go over again) not been one of such incompetency, businesses may not have been forced to keep their doors closed as long as they did. The threat of losing their jobs during the pandemic lead to many British workers feeling overstretched and overworked: almost half (46 per cent) of those who began working remotely during lockdown reported feeling more pressure to be ‘present’ for their employer and colleagues, with more than a third (35 per cent) saying they had continued to work despite feeling unwell (Siobhan Palmer, People Management). The impact of this is still felt even as redundancy figures begin to drop off from their all-time high in 2020. According to data from employee review site Glassdoor, talk of layoffs and redundancies has increased by 185 per cent from March to June 2022 in employee reviews, indicating that it is top of mind for many individuals (Dan Cave, People Management). The cost of living crisis continues to see the threat of redundancy held over the heads of British workers. Increases in interest rates, energy prices, and National Insurance are reported to be behind the sentiment of upper-level management that redundancies may be necessary to combat profit losses: data from the Office for National Statistics shows the number of redundancies planned by businesses increased by 103 per cent between January and February of 2022. Unsurprisingly, 18% of employers, particularly those heading up big businesses (shocker) reported they were considering even more planned redundancies before March 2023 in June of the previous year (Damian Kelly, People Management). Given that the first quarter of 2023 saw the number of business closures top the number of businesses created by record amounts (Katharine Swindells, City Monitor), that unemployment overall increased by 274,000 between April and May this year isn’t wild but rather, a reasonable deduction. What is shocking is that this period saw the steepest rise in unemployment month on month since modern records began, according to separate figures from the Office for National Statistics (HR Magazine, Millicent Machell). Redundancy is a significant and pressing fear, and a lack of job security leaves more and more people feeling obligated to overextend themselves for employers to avoid such financial situations; a report from HR software Employment Hero, found 42% of those who want to quit cited redundancy rounds or headcount changes as their top reason. All the while, mega-corporations like Amazon, Microsoft and Meta (I.e Facebook) actually make profit for layoffs (Chad Brooks, business.com).

The precedent, that business executives will largely layoff low level employees before they lose profit, is firmly established. During COVID, however, the UK government agreed to relax rules against all expert advice rather than providing sufficient aid themselves. They hate listening to people who know better. We see that time and time again.

Now, despite factual accounts of innocent people being killed in their thousands in Gaza, Rishi Sunak continues to support Israel. It is a blatant violation of international law and flagrantly immoral. A majority of Israel’s supposed justifications to do with the Hamas attack have been debunked, not that the terrorist attack of a radical group, even if the situation were that simple (I ask exactly what gives the IDF and the armed settlers who have treated Palestinians with such cruelty in their own homelands for several decades now immunity from the terrorist label anyway) should automatically justify the genocide of the group they emerged from anyway. So why is Sunak in support of it, in spite of all logic? I imagine his wife's family owning a company partenered with BP, major dependents on Israel's go-ahead to drill for oil on Palestinian land has something to do with it.

I implied earlier that the Conservatives lack brain cells and that this is what drives their apparent lack of foresight, but their educations and credentials would argue against this, no matter the degree of privilege which helped them get there. What I suspect is actually the case, based on the evidence, is that their empathy for anyone not like them is so low, anything that appears to serve us is nothing more than political strategy, rather than an actual goal they are willing to exert themselves towards the fulfilment of. If anything else which appeals more to their self-interest intervenes in the half-arsed fulfilment of these speculative plans? Well, cya later public good. We’ll deal with the fallout later.

Now, herein lies the central issue, the repugnant display of their favoured tactics despite the consequences over the last month. The Conservatives, and the leader of the Labour Party, Keir Starmer, who has been willingly complicit throughout his entire tenure so as to appear not “too radical”, have pulled out that treasured old chestnut of the blame game to 1). Divert attention away from their own failures and moral transgressions and 2). Win the populist vote without making any real, meaningful changes (because they of course threaten their own positions).

Every now and again, the scapegoat is one of their own, and that, I welcome-Nadhim Zahawi, for example. But more often than not, the girlies at Westminster go for the lowest hanging fruit of some marginalised, broadly misunderstood group, pointing the finger at some facet of their identity that unites them as if they are not complex individuals but instead, a homogenous population, reduced to a dehumanised entity of opposition whose mere existence threatens the very thread of to the neurotypical, gender typical, etc. etc. prototypical British individual’s life. Like I said, we live in uncertain times, where an undercurrent of fear for the future brews at the back of most people’s minds. This exists because we see things getting worse and nothing being done about it right in front of our eyes. The tories, along with several other notable politicians across party lines, and the inaction borne from their selfishness, are at the root of this. But they don’t want to lose the positions providing them access to the recourses granting them further wealth and status. That is why they point the finger elsewhere. The way you feel is not because the country is a shitshow. It’s because change is coming, and you anticipate yourself being villainised for living the way of life you’ve become accustomed to, as well as the repercussions of that. The tories pose themselves as the solution to this, the ones who “stick to the facts”, who are the only buffer against this “woke madness” as if it’s some real, aggressive force which is going to come along and destroy your life. They appeal to the “WHAt HAppEned to FREe SpEEch?!” screechers, and fan the flames of that very valued argument. What happened to free speech? Nothing, fuckface, and that is exactly why I have to read your bullshit all over the internet and also why Rishi Sunak is allowed to stand behind a podium and say something as scientifically reductive and divisive as “we shouldn’t get bullied into believing that people can be any sex they want to be. They can’t, a man is a man and a woman is a woman. That’s just common sense.” with impunity.

Gender isn’t a "common sense” thing, Rishi Sunak knows that, and so do the politicians who spout the same rhetoric. I don’t doubt that transgender individuals, for them, symbolise their left-wing critics, ya know, the old “woke mob”. I don’t know the statistics on the political orientations of trans individuals in Britain-what I do know, is that if they do tend to largely associate with the left, it’s not because they wish to use the guise of political change to infiltrate the movement and establish a new world order where people are imprisoned for innocently misgendering, for being undereducated, and where sex offenders who transition to allow them to more easily abuse individuals of the sex they have transitioned to is permitted. And can we just acknowledge, on the record here, how utterly fucking ludicrous this last dogwhistle is. As if it’s a wide spread phenomenon like???? As if people commonly transition to commit sex crimes?? As if Rishi Sunak repeating this crap isn’t wildly hypocritical when his party’s underfunding of the criminal justice system has quite literally allowed actual sex offenders to go free and reoffend?? Please worry about them, not the unicorn cases of individuals transitioning for the purpose of sneaking into women’s toilets.

But yeah, the left is not some group of sexual predators who push the “trans issue” so that they can “get away” with their crimes. If it seems to be the case that trans or gender nonconforming individuals associate with the left, it’s probably because 1). Rishi Sunak is hardly the first Conservative MP to be transphobic, 2). this government continues to push back against legislation advancing trans rights, including their recent attempts to block Scotland's gender recognition law and 3). because the waiting list for gender affirming surgery is a million fucking years long as a result of the same conservative engineered NHS underfunding that hurts all of us. To be precise, here are the non-hyperbolic numbers:

The second longest average waiting times - after those at the Laurels Exeter Specialist Gender Identity Clinic in Devon (90 months) - were seen at the recently closed Tavistock gender clinic in London, at 54 months.

Even the lowest average wait at the Nottingham Centre for Transgender Health was 28 months.

(Clara Bullock, BBC News)

All trans individuals want is to be respected and treated with empathy, and to push the narrative they are “bullying” the majority into accepting pseudoscience whilst they are one of the most marginalised groups in this country, commonly the target of harmful legislation when the tories can actually be arsed to get off their money-hungry backsides and implement change, is vile. They want to look like they’re helping. So what they do is create a new, politically weaker group to target, and take fire, and let the public marvel at the spectacle of their missiles believing it represents their “strength”.

Keir Starmer is fully aware of the same tactics, btw, and capitalises upon it just as much, conducting himself in a way that those with a conscience will see as guided by complicity and cowardice. This solidifies to me he has little in the way of meaningful, implementable plans to fix the social issues catalysed and created by the tories. If he did, he wouldn't be so afraid to criticise them and be labelled as Corbyn reincarnate, directly aligning himself with the "woke left", because his policies would speak for themselves. He is counting on the vote from those dissatisfied with their life under the current Conservative government, who want to go back to the way things "used to be", and is complacent in achieving votes that way. That he refuses to take a stance against the evil bullshit that the tories facilitate speaks volumes about how much trust we should put in him to do the right thing.

To go back to the Palestine/Israel situation, because I know that is at the forefront of so many of our minds right now, the major figures in British parliament refusing to call for a ceasefire are not doing so because they are as stupid as to believe that what the Israeli government is doing is within reason. All they are doing is doubling down on the version of events which villainises all Palestinian people as harbouring a terrorist group hellbent on taking over not just Israel, but the world, against which Netanyahu and his government are acting out of necessity to be the moral buffer protecting us all, because that’s the only version of events that would supposedly justify their actions. In reality, it’s an attempt by our government leaders to wash their hands of their own complicity of these crimes, because they themselves are benefitting from them.

Realistically, Hamas are the inevitable product of the Israeli government’s view of the Palestinian people as a subhuman group who will take mistreatment within, and displacement from, their own homeland, but the truth is, Hamas represent to Israel a threat to the delusion of Palestinians being a dehumanised population who are just a problem they can slowly eradicate. Not one to miss making lemonade from lemons, they have become an opportunity to twist the reality into something justifying the more aggressive, but faster, and easier solution of genocide, so grotesquely as to overshadow the very basic fact that their actions right now, even in a vacuum which ignores the immorality of their expansion over the past half century, contravenes international law forbidding collective punishment. Criticise it, and it’s antisemitism, because what they are doing is “for the Jewish people” in spite of the harm they are themselves subjecting normal, everyday Jewish people to, by perpetuating the falsehood that this is something they all condone purely because they are Jewish. Again, this is something our government leaders are complicit in. Yet, again, when peaceful protest occurs against the slaughter in Gaza, Conservative politicians point fingers at protestors and paint them as the antisemitic mob.

Rishi Sunak, Keir Starmer, every politician sitting in UK parliament who refuses to acknowledge this, points to what should be clear from the Conservative Party’s actions, and in Starmer’s case, his complacency with these moves, which is that they think 1). The majority of the British public are a bunch of fucking idiots and 2). Their entitlement to their positions affords them a sense of invincibility. They would not be repeating this bullshit narrative with their chest if they had any respect for any of us or believed that the dominant sources of information we have access to would ever hold them accountable. And the actions resulting from this belief of theirs have consequences more devastating than ever. They have 0 empathy, and it is for that reason that we can never trust or depend on them. TO REPEAT, these are the people egging on the Israeli government’s genocide of the Palestinian people. These are the people who refuse to call for a ceasefire when the death toll since October 7th now exceeds 11,000 (Nidal Al-Mughrabi and Maytaal Angel, Reuters, November 2023).

There is a general election coming up before 2025 and as the Tories become more and more extreme in their efforts to distract, with more harmful consequences than ever, we really have to do our research, talk to everyone we know about our local candidates, get involved with our local party groups if we can, speak up. I don’t necessarily think it’s a case of the lesser of two evils anymore on a national level-when it comes down to who ends up as our “Prime Minister” and the cabinet, it can feel like a game played by the upper echelons grappling for the ultimate ego boost. Look at the year we’ve had. As much as I’d like to say to anyone who voted Conservative primarily for Boris Johnson, you deserve this chaos for making such a garbage decision in the first place, you probably didn’t think you’d end the year with Rishi Sunak in charge of the country, and David Cameron, who wasn’t even bloody elected, by his side. It’s easy to feel hopeless, 1000%, when who’s in control of the country appears to be a matter so far removed from everyday people but it’s important not to forget elections are about more than just who ends up being PM, which if anything is a distraction to reduce the complex matter of representation and lawmaking down to a binary situation. Mainstream media are all game for an oversimplification of the choice we have because it makes developing straw-man arguments to push their favoured narrative even easier.

Local representation, which is what it becomes easy to forget we're actually voting for in a general election, still offers a way to exert some degree of influence over policy in parliament. I don’t like Keir Starmer but that doesn’t mean I’m against people voting for their Labour MP if their voting record is sound; the resistance of a number of party members to Starmer’s line on Palestine, which went so far as to him vowing to sack any of his shadow ministers that go against the whip, perhaps shows that not all hope is lost, and that there are still some good eggs out there. In that same vein, this has really driven home that you can’t assume party line/ethos will translate to actual policy; though if you’d asked me a few years ago, I'd have probably assumed most Labour MPs would vote for a ceasefire, this truly wasn’t the case.

I wished that when the vote to call for a ceasefire happened yesterday, more of them would’ve been heard, even though the ceasefire is really the very least that can be done for the people in Gaza after all of this. In case you missed it, here are the list of MPs who defied the whip and showed some human decency, including several who have lost their place in Keir Starmer’s shade cabinet as a result:

Diane Abbott (Independent - Hackney North and Stoke Newington)

Tahir Ali (Labour - Birmingham, Hall Green)

Rosena Allin-Khan (Labour - Tooting)

Hannah Bardell (Scottish National Party - Livingston)

Paula Barker (Labour - Liverpool, Wavertree)

Apsana Begum (Labour - Poplar and Limehouse)

Clive Betts (Labour - Sheffield South East)

Mhairi Black (Scottish National Party - Paisley and Renfrewshire South)

Paul Blomfield (Labour - Sheffield Central)

Steven Bonnar (Scottish National Party - Coatbridge, Chryston and Bellshill)

Deidre Brock (Scottish National Party - Edinburgh North and Leith)

Alan Brown (Scottish National Party - Kilmarnock and Loudoun)

Karen Buck (Labour - Westminster North)

Richard Burgon (Labour - Leeds East)

Dawn Butler (Labour - Brent Central)

Ian Byrne (Labour - Liverpool, West Derby)

Liam Byrne (Labour - Birmingham, Hodge Hill)

Amy Callaghan (Scottish National Party - East Dunbartonshire) (Proxy vote cast by Marion Fellows)

Dan Carden (Labour - Liverpool, Walton)

Alistair Carmichael (Liberal Democrat - Orkney and Shetland)

Wendy Chamberlain (Liberal Democrat - North East Fife)

Sarah Champion (Labour - Rotherham)

Douglas Chapman (Scottish National Party - Dunfermline and West Fife)

Joanna Cherry (Scottish National Party - Edinburgh South West)

Daisy Cooper (Liberal Democrat - St Albans)

Jeremy Corbyn (Independent - Islington North)

Ronnie Cowan (Scottish National Party - Inverclyde)

Angela Crawley (Scottish National Party - Lanark and Hamilton East)

Stella Creasy (Labour - Walthamstow)

Jon Cruddas (Labour - Dagenham and Rainham)

Judith Cummins (Labour - Bradford South)

Ed Davey (Liberal Democrat - Kingston and Surbiton)

Martyn Day (Scottish National Party - Linlithgow and East Falkirk)

Marsha De Cordova (Labour - Battersea)

Martin Docherty-Hughes (Scottish National Party - West Dunbartonshire)

Allan Dorans (Scottish National Party - Ayr, Carrick and Cumnock) (Proxy vote cast by Marion Fellows)

Peter Dowd (Labour - Bootle)

Sarah Dyke (Liberal Democrat - Somerton and Frome)

Colum Eastwood (Social Democratic & Labour Party - Foyle)

Jonathan Edwards (Independent - Carmarthen East and Dinefwr)

Julie Elliott (Labour - Sunderland Central)

Tim Farron (Liberal Democrat - Westmorland and Lonsdale)

Stephen Farry (Alliance - North Down)

Marion Fellows (Scottish National Party - Motherwell and Wishaw)

Stephen Flynn (Scottish National Party - Aberdeen South)

Richard Foord (Liberal Democrat - Tiverton and Honiton)

Mary Kelly Foy (Labour - City of Durham)

Barry Gardiner (Labour - Brent North)

Patricia Gibson (Scottish National Party - North Ayrshire and Arran)

Patrick Grady (Scottish National Party - Glasgow North)

Peter Grant (Scottish National Party - Glenrothes)

Sarah Green (Liberal Democrat - Chesham and Amersham)

Margaret Greenwood (Labour - Wirral West)

Fabian Hamilton (Labour - Leeds North East)

Claire Hanna (Social Democratic & Labour Party - Belfast South)

Neale Hanvey (Alba Party - Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath)

Drew Hendry (Scottish National Party - Inverness, Nairn, Badenoch and Strathspey)

Wera Hobhouse (Liberal Democrat - Bath)

Kate Hollern (Labour - Blackburn)

Rachel Hopkins (Labour - Luton South)

Stewart Hosie (Scottish National Party - Dundee East)

Rupa Huq (Labour - Ealing Central and Acton)

Imran Hussain (Labour - Bradford East)

Christine Jardine (Liberal Democrat - Edinburgh West)

Afzal Khan (Labour - Manchester, Gorton)

Ben Lake (Plaid Cymru - Ceredigion)

Ian Lavery (Labour - Wansbeck)

Chris Law (Scottish National Party - Dundee West)

Emma Lewell-Buck (Labour - South Shields)

Clive Lewis (Labour - Norwich South)

David Linden (Scottish National Party - Glasgow East)

Rebecca Long Bailey (Labour - Salford and Eccles)

Caroline Lucas (Green Party - Brighton, Pavilion)

Kenny MacAskill (Alba Party - East Lothian)

Angus Brendan MacNeil (Independent - Na h-Eileanan an Iar)

Khalid Mahmood (Labour - Birmingham, Perry Barr)

Rachael Maskell (Labour - York Central)

Andy McDonald (Independent - Middlesbrough)

Stewart Malcolm McDonald (Scottish National Party - Glasgow South)

Stuart C McDonald (Scottish National Party - Cumbernauld, Kilsyth and Kirkintilloch East)

John McDonnell (Labour - Hayes and Harlington)

Conor McGinn (Independent - St Helens North)

Anne McLaughlin (Scottish National Party - Glasgow North East)

John McNally (Scottish National Party - Falkirk)

Ian Mearns (Labour - Gateshead)

Carol Monaghan (Scottish National Party - Glasgow North West)

Layla Moran (Liberal Democrat - Oxford West and Abingdon)

Helen Morgan (Liberal Democrat - North Shropshire)

Grahame Morris (Labour - Easington)

John Nicolson (Scottish National Party - Ochil and South Perthshire) (Proxy vote cast by Marion Fellows)

Brendan O’Hara (Scottish National Party - Argyll and Bute)

Sarah Olney (Liberal Democrat - Richmond Park)

Kate Osamor (Labour - Edmonton)

Kate Osborne (Labour - Jarrow)

Kirsten Oswald (Scottish National Party - East Renfrewshire)

Sarah Owen (Labour - Luton North)

Jess Phillips (Labour - Birmingham, Yardley)

Anum Qaisar (Scottish National Party - Airdrie and Shotts)

Yasmin Qureshi (Labour - Bolton South East)

Bell Ribeiro-Addy (Labour - Streatham)

Lloyd Russell-Moyle (Labour - Brighton, Kemptown)

Liz Saville Roberts (Plaid Cymru - Dwyfor Meirionnydd)

Naz Shah (Labour - Bradford West)

Andy Slaughter (Labour - Hammersmith)

Alyn Smith (Scottish National Party - Stirling)

Cat Smith (Labour - Lancaster and Fleetwood)

Alex Sobel (Labour - Leeds North West)

Chris Stephens (Scottish National Party - Glasgow South West)

Jamie Stone (Liberal Democrat - Caithness, Sutherland and Easter Ross)

Zarah Sultana (Labour - Coventry South)

Sam Tarry (Labour - Ilford South)

Alison Thewliss (Scottish National Party - Glasgow Central)

Owen Thompson (Scottish National Party - Midlothian)

Richard Thomson (Scottish National Party - Gordon)

Stephen Timms (Labour - East Ham)

Jon Trickett (Labour - Hemsworth)

Valerie Vaz (Labour - Walsall South)

Claudia Webbe (Independent - Leicester East)

Philippa Whitford (Scottish National Party - Central Ayrshire) (Proxy vote cast by Marion Fellows)

Nadia Whittome (Labour - Nottingham East)

Hywel Williams (Plaid Cymru - Arfon)

Munira Wilson (Liberal Democrat - Twickenham)

Beth Winter (Labour - Cynon Valley)

Pete Wishart (Scottish National Party - Perth and North Perthshire)

Mohammad Yasin (Labour - Bedford)

As for the rest of them, I don’t understand where on earth their humanity is gone. I know I’m not alone in thinking there is 0 justification, EVER, for murdering thousands of innocent people, fucking CHILDREN!! Day after day after day. It makes me feel sick that there are sitting MPs who are so devoid of a conscience. It is properly just horrific. They are fucking dangerous and should be far FAR FAR away from government.

This country needs to be run for its PEOPLE. There is more than enough money out there to make sure everyone has at the very least the bare necessities of survival, and politicians need to stop throwing vulnerable people like lambs to the slaughter to distract from this truth. We need to elect representatives with real principles, who are against the continuation of the status quo, which is to encourage greed and the belief that the greediest of us are above the rules. That’s why they end up with such detachedness from real every day people, and this comes at the cost of adapting the government safety nets to be appropriate for the current economic climate, and on a bigger scale, failing to tackle the most important issue 99% of the fucking human race should be concerned by. The emergence of an “anti-green” group amongst MPs has undoubtedly influenced Rishi Sunak’s rhetoric on the “cost” of net-zero. Anyone listening to this and nodding their heads in agreement, firstly please refer to how our refusal to invest in renewable energy is hurting us, and secondly, listen to me when an fucking BEG you remember that money won’t matter when viruses completely alien to the modern human body make their way into the water cycle because rising sea temperatures are melting the glaciers they’ve been trapped in for thousands of years:)

These people are literally willing to let the world burn as long as it lines their pockets with the knowledge they’re sitting pretty. Whilst the rich get richer, in spite of the rest of us being told to cut down, the poor stay exactly where they are, and many suffer completely needlessly. There are a shit tonne of British politicians who don’t want us to notice that this is their best case scenario, and that it’s all by their design. But we need to let them know we do and that they are just as human as us. In the spirit of the new Hunger Games sequel film, with Hunter Schafer’s Schiaparelli red carpet look on my mind, I end this post with the words of Katniss Everdeen:

If we burn, you burn with us babes xoxo

Even if it's just your pathetic, hollow career in politics, and the expense of those GARGANTUAN egos:-)

#rant over #fuck the tories #british politics #general election #thoughts #trans rights #save the nhs #free palestine #cost of living

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transvisions · 2 years ago

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beezebelb and gabriel going off to alpha centuri because crowley said they should is so funny. like you just gave the honeymoon plans you booked years in advance to your ex boss and your partners weird colleague that you hate. and you did this even before your own proposal flopped

#like did you let them have it because you want to stay on earth? with aziraphale? running away no longer the ideal?#you two can have it we’ll find someplace else to settle #a place where aziraphale can keep the bookshop and the food and the humans he likes and you can keep the car and be with him #and perhaps one day you’ll drive to the countryside and find yourselves a cottage #really hasnt it always been about preserving what aziraphale loves?#after all you always have what you love so long as you’re with him #doesnt really matter to you what happens to the earth. just that you can stay as you are and for aziraphale to keep the things he loves #and after everything you’ve done to preserve these things. the bookshop. the earth and its people. his goodness and morality.#out of love and devotion to your one person. to keep what you two have for eternity. for aziraphale never to be unhappy or without you #as you cannot be without him #when he says nothing lasts forever it all becomes meaningless doesn’t it?#these acts unappreciated. everything you’ve built together torn down. the struggle to keep such a relationship alive become futile #subverting war between your opposing kinds and thwarting the apocalypse so you two can stay together and not be parted?#well actually all you've done to protect the earth and what it represents. to reject the woes of heaven/hell. its all been for naught.#all you’ve done for love didn’t matter. didn’t make a difference.#even the bookshop will cease. something you thought would keep aziraphale there — with you — when you alone aren't enough to make him stay.#what was once ‘my own side’ had become ‘our side’ and now it’s just you once more #what is left for just you when you’ve built everything around being an ‘us’. always just ‘us’#even if earth burned and everything aziraphale loved went to waste - there could still be 'us'#off to alpha centuri where you’d only have eachother #that would be enough for you wouldn’t it?#even though it wouldn’t last #you both hold onto naive hopes #running away together would solve everything. one kiss would solve everything #so you must’ve been saying to yourself: whats the point of saving whats doomed to fail?#whats the point of loving when nothing lasts forever #gomens #qzth

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werewolfpngs · 3 years ago

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💞 the death anxiety coping mechanisms post 💞

you have a small little animal (yourself) and you must treat it gently etc etc

part one: thoughts I keep in my pocket for when I start spiralling about the concept of nothingness (aka your brain is a liar)

mark twain philosophy: “i had been dead for billions and billions of years before i was born…” - this doesn’t usually help me honestly (too abstract) but it’s something ive been told before by other people that they use!

that’s a problem for another day - my death does not meaningfully exist to me until the moment before it happens. until it exists, it has no authority to dictate my life or emotions. (this is the put that shit off method of denial and any insinuations that it’s unhealthy will be met with an immediate bonk on the head with my rubber mallet)

being afraid doesn’t last forever, actually - do you ever spiral so bad you start spiralling about spiralling? good time to remind yourself that fear of death tends to lessen, rather than increase, as you age <3

says who? - devils advocate toddler your brain into submission method. why are you so convinced by your worst case scenario? is it a rational or anxiety-driven conclusion? if it’s rational, on whose authority? yours? humans have extremely inflated egos of ourselves. you understand nothing about anything, especially death. you’re convinced by your worst case scenario because you’re five steps from being a smooth brained koala and what you think has zero bearing on the mechanisms of the universe. sit down.

dad goes first - i have a dead dad and if he could deal with it (whatever happens after death) so can i. it’s the equivalent of feeling better about cliff diving after your friend does it. it’s like…we are holding hands as we walk into the next stage of our part in the universe, and it’s okay if we don’t have to do it alone <3

matter cannot be created or destroyed - pretty self explanatory but the idea that my life and death follows a natural cycle in which parts of me (if not my consciousness) continue to live on extremely comforting to me. i am become mulch

the fantasy game - your brain is so good at conjuring bad thoughts. time for your best case thoughts. this basically counteracts the catastrophizing part of distorted thoughts caused by anxiety disorders. what’s your ideal after-death scenario? i like to think of being everywhere, not thinking but not not-existing, just being a completely integrated part of the fabric of the universe, and being fully and totally at peace with place in everything :) the goal here isn’t to come up with something “realistic”, it’s to put a few thoughts other than BAD BAD SCARY SCARY SCARY into your brain for once

it means something - i really struggle with the concept of meaninglessness. it helps to remind myself that if my life is meaningful even to myself, in a purely constructed meaning, that’s enough. there doesn’t have to be some grand plan for us all for it to be worth it. it’s enough to just enjoy this 1 in several trillion chance you’ve got at being Alive

we live in a society - i have wished multiple times that humanity was a hivemind for several reasons, but this unfortunately not being the case doesn’t erase the fact that we are a collective group of animals that share a lot of feelings. there are other people just as scared as you. it sounds like total bullshit, but you genuinely are not alone in this. find community in your misery

part 2: practicality (aka for when the brain doesn’t want to listen to you)

skydive - probably not the best choice if your fear is of dying, at least not without a lot of preparing and exposure therapy, but in my totally unprofessional opinion it is scientifically impossible to be afraid of a nebulous concept when flying through the air like a bird in a weird outfit. next question. (in all seriousness, you need to move your body so you don’t forget you exist right now. get up and stretch. take a breath. do a little dance in the rain)

go to sleep - if you’re experiencing this at 2am there is your problem. try your best to get some shut-eye because i guarantee it won’t feel as bad in the morning. I’ve had a meltdown at 3am only to forget how to be scared of something by sunrise too many times

buddy system - sometimes you just need to cry and have someone tell you it’s okay, even if you don’t believe them. for me it’s my mom, for you it could be anyone you trust. often it helps to find someone whose been where you are and has come out on the other side okay

do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive - if you have crippling fomo about the future it can really help to do something you’ve always wanted to. it’s one less thing left to fit into your life, which has about a billion other opportunities out there if you ever run out of ideas

distract yourself - okay, like…ignoring anxiety isn’t good! i get it! but when something has been addressed over and over and keeps standing in your doorway like a sleep paralysis demon of anxious thoughts it has lost its right to an audience. whatever occupies your brain is good. books, crosswords, your favourite show, etc. don’t fuel the thoughts by engaging with them if that doesn’t help you. if im getting overwhelmed, sometimes the best thing i can do for myself is put the problem in a file in my brain for later and go play skyrim (lmao)

that’s all for now but if anyone has anything to add please feel free! this list is incomplete

there are a finite number of sunrises to be seen for everyone, but there are so many. there are enough

#the you im referring to is in fact myself this post is entirely self-motivated #but i do hope it may help anyone who happens to see it with the same sorta thought processes as me lol #death anxiety #thanatophobia #etc etc etc #girl moment #oh yeah here’s that post I mentioned btw haha

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

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15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes.

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers.

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color.

“Cas.”

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice.

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave.

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here.

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?”

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy.

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story.

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words.

That’s not who I am.

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets.

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...”

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking.

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.”

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon.

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.”

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what.

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?”

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems.

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed.

He does make one stop, however.

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.”

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders.

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.”

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...”

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his.

“So what happened?”

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack.

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved.

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses.

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem.

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle?

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...”

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does.

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out.

There’s work to be done.

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention.

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human.

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.”

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back.

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?”

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.”

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.”

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.”

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.”

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing.

---

Bobby is wrong.

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him.

There’s still time.

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt.

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow.

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--”

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him.

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon.

It’s always too soon.

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?”

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer.

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.”

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him.

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology.

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care.

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier.

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere.

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before.

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around.

Dean Winchester is there.

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world.

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move.

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.”

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.”

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm.

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.”

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.”

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them.

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--”

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?”

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.”

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his.

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more.

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.”

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them.

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him.

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?”

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.”

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing.

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest.

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed.

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure.

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s.

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.”

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say.

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?”

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition.

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought.

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails.

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him.

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place.

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.”

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles.

“Dean,” he says.

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo.

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs.

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.”

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to.

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?”

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.”

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair.

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him.

You are valued. You are loved.

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies.

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling.

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years.

There is so much work to do.

But they have time. They have all the time they need.

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years ago

Text

Even Stars Burn Out

As he enters the Jedi temple, reinvigorated by a new, unspeakable purpose - Anakin Skywalker feels nothing.

There are no thoughts in regards to the countless lives he is about to snuff out in his mind. There are no feelings of remorse or hesitation in his heart. He has already decided, he has already weighed the lives of his former fellow Jedi against Padmé’s. It was never a contest, there was never any question as to whose life mattered more. Anakin keeps his lightsaber in his hand, his loyal 501st battalion have his back. Order 66 is nigh, the termination of each and every Jedi the rule which he must obey.

Do the Jedi deserve such a grim fate? Anakin thinks being part of the order, a constitution that has molded and used him for years, is crueller.

Do they deserve to die? Anakin thinks death will bring relief, as the misled become one with the Force.

He strikes down the first meager padawan, and still he feels nothing. No guilt, no remorse. Only anger.

His rage burns red hot, his hatred thrumming like the rhythm of a drum within his chest. The pounding of his heart is the only beat he follows, as he strikes down another familiar face. And another. And another. Until the faces all blend into one, until blaster fire and the buzz of clashing plasma blades overpower his senses.

They fall. They all fall.

Anakin is powerful, he has always been powerful. Talented, the Force syphoned within his very cells so much more than that of his peers. He has less training, yet he outmatches each and every one of them. Master Cin Drallig proves to be some competition, but even he must fall at the swipe of Anakin’s blue saber.

Master Jurokk stands no chance.

Shaak Ti is caught meditating, unaware of the one time hero of the Republic coming to end her life. Anakin stabs her in the back, and she slumps limp to the side as her light burns out. Anakin keeps no count, he has no idea how many bright eyed young men and women he has struck down. They seem to him like spider-roaches; like an endless flood of vermin pouring from each and every entrance like spider-roaches from a damp crack in the wall. He deals with them with the same dissociation, with the same emotional dissonance. His master's words echo in his head; his praise and his promises. The Sith Lord will aid Anakin in his crusade to save Padmé, and Anakin is desperate.

The hall seems serene, a clean slate save for the heaps of fresh bodies stacked along the ornate stone floors. Their hollow eyes stare at Anakin, locked in horror and what he feels might be accusatory glares. They will judge him, and he accepts that fate. Their thoughts of him matter little.

Anakin closes his eyes, senses further life forms. Senses Force signatures that are unstable; some weak, some fluctuating. Some reeking of fear and confusion. Youthful. He knows what must be done.

Only now, does Anakin take a moment to weigh his options. Only now, for a brief second in which clarity finds him, does he stutter. The moment passes, almost as casually brushed aside as if the doubt was naught but thin air. He ascends the grand stairway, makes a well aimed leap to the second suspended level. The pale, tear stricken faces of the hidden younglings greet him as he enters the juvenile training hall. They have hidden behind the scarce furniture provided. Anakin senses their terror, and he tries to relish it. He takes a deep breath, steadies his trembling hands.

Do these children deserve to die? Anakin knows they will be hunted relentlessly by the clones, and by his master, should they be left alive. Him killing them is a blessing, it's a mercy that he will take such pity on them.

Sors Bandeam approaches, the blonde boy barely even a toddler. He speaks, but Anakin hears none of it. He shuts out the hushed whispers and murmurs, and acts. He thinks of Padmé, of the child she is carrying. He tries not to picture the face of his daughter or son in the place of the younglings' as he strikes them down. Padmé must live, nothing else matters. These younglings would have grown to develop the same traitorous, poisonous views as the Jedi council. They are merely the next generation. His master asked him to spare none, and Anakin obeys. He will always obey.

When it is done, he doesn’t linger. He doesn’t dwell upon his heinous crime. He exits the chamber, leaving the children as they lie. Helpless, hapless, innocent and forever suspended in time. They shall never age, they shall never reach adolescence. They have found peace.

When Anakin exits the smoldering Jedi temple, there are no survivors. Thick black smoke billows out of the giant construction, his trusty platoon of clone troopers left behind to guard the tattered remains of what was once Anakin’s home away from home.

Bodies litter the exterior stairway. Anakin steps over them with little reverence. He smells only the ashy, pungent stench of death and embers.

He thinks he can sense Padmé’s distress from afar. Something in him tells him to go to her; to reassure her, to feed her any lies necessary in order to soothe her pain and fear. She is distraught, as he comes to her. He is disheveled, still numb and empty and hollow inside. He thinks only of her, as he kisses her lips and strokes her cheek, and offers her what he hopes is an affectionate smile. She is unconvinced, fretful, and he cannot stop her wandering thoughts. He tries, he explains what little he can. He has further duties, his master expects him to follow through with his mission. He can’t stay, despite her pleas.

The flight to Mustafar is quiet, solemn, and stifling. Anakin blocks out his barrading thoughts, thinking only of Padmé’s beautiful but sad face. He thinks of her swollen belly, thinks of the baby kicking as he presses his palm to its curve. He does this for her, for their child. For them. Only them. Only her. He lands, resolute. The separatists must fall, like Count Dooku before them. The war must end, a new era is about to dawn.

The heat of the lava planet is pressing, sweat pouring down Anakin’s furrowed brow. His reception party is confused, and he smirks at them. He quips, voice dry with sarcasm as he adds two more lives to his conscience. He is focused, clear headed and determined. His strides are fast, and the Neimoidian viceroy Nute Gunray of the Trading Federation appears bemusingly shocked as Anakin interrupts the meeting. Whatever his master promised Gunray was a lie, and the viceroy realizes this. Anakin hates Gunray, he hates the Trading Federation, he hates everything they stand for. That unbridled hatred feeds his rage, and steers his saber.

If Anakin felt nothing killing his fellow Jedi, he feels even less slaughtering the ring leaders of the faction he has spent years of his life battling. War has changed him, desensitized him and he slices through their hideous bodies like butter. Like paper, they rip and tear and break. Gunray pleads for his life, and if Anakin were a cruller man he might have relished in it. Instead, he finishes the job.

An eerie silence once more overpowers him, as he reports to his master. The now Emperor Palpatine praises him, but the compliments ring hollow. They are meaningless, and Anakin knows this. He accepts this as par for the course. His master has never been honest, and deep down, Anakin has always known this.

Still, the solitude is claustrophobic. The walls seem to be closing in.

Anakin finds himself desperate to move anywhere at all. He paces the room, avoids making eye contact with the dead as they glower at him - mocking him, just as the fallen Jedi had. The balcony suspended sixty feet above the rivers of scalding lava below becomes his refuge. He fixes his eyes upon the mesmerizing molten rock; yellows, browns, reds and oranges capturing his attention. The river twists and warps into random shapes and patterns, and its roar seems to bring to mind cries of agony and misery.

Anakin shakes his head, the anger dissipating bit by bit. In its wake, there is pain. Clawing at his insides, clutching at his heart. Padmé must live, he thinks. Nothing else matters. But Anakin knows he can never go back. The moment he agreed to aid his master's vicious scheme, he was lost. The stricken faces of the younglings flash before his eyes; little Sors' big blue eyes full of admiration. Expecting to be saved, to be taken away and kept safe by one of the biggest heroes of the Republic. Instead, his frail body now lies cold and lonely lightyears away.

What might Padmé think, if she knew?

What might Padmé say, if he ever told her?

Anakin’s hands tremble, and he wraps his arms around himself to still their treachery. The Sith yellow of his eyes, a sickly hue that had overtaken them as he allowed darkness to engulf his being, fades. It is the last time it will ever fade.

Pale blue eyes regard the lava river, even as they are clouded with tears. Anakin thinks of his mother. He thinks of her kindness, her love, and her demise. He thinks of how heavy her withered body felt in his arms as he brought it home, thinks of how he failed her. He will not fail Padmé. He will not bury Padmé.

There is guilt now.

Guilt so raw, so blunt, so immense that it tears Anakin’s heart in two. He feels conflicted. He feels lost. He feels alone, and afraid, and disgusted. He feels hurt, and used, and enraged. He feels small, and helpless. He feels powerful, and untouchable. He weeps, and he allows himself to mourn the Jedi. He weeps for them, and for himself.

Cin Drallig.

Shaak Ti.

Jurokk.

Sors Beam.

Anakin will forget them, eventually. Their features will fade, as his memories disappear into oblivion. Only Padmé remains a beacon of hope, only Padmé can save him now. Anakin cries, and he sheds a piece of himself with each scalding tear. He cries, and he willfully suppresses the disappointed, horrified faces that comes to mind.

Mother.

Qui-Gon.

Yoda.

Windu.

Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan.

Padmé.

Anakin dries his tears, holds his head high. There is no use in weeping over what has been done. His future lies ahead, bright and open wide. He forces himself to believe in this mantra, forces himself to discard rationality and reason. What else can he do?

Then he loses everything.

He loses the battle. He loses his limbs. He loses his sight, his hearing, his voice, his soul. He loses Padmé.

And for what? What was his sacrifice all for?

Master was right, it is ironic. Anakin never betrayed the Jedi for Padmé. He did it for himself, and he loathes himself for it. Anakin is alone, locked in a prison of his own making. Anakin is but scraps of the man he used to be; a traitor, a coward and a monster. He suppresses himself, relying solely upon his hatred. There is an endless supply of that, now. He is despicable, and thus, there will forever be a steady stream of loathing to feed off of. He needs no one, he deserves no one.

Does Anakin deserve such a fate? Yes, his brain whispers. He deserves all of this, and more.

Does Anakin deserve to die? No, the same voice concludes. Death would be relief, a sweet blissful slumber to save him from his demons. He deserves no such relief, he must be punished and tormented.

Anakin killed Padmé, and this is his reward. He knows this. He accepts this. Anakin burns in his own flame, he has flown too close to the sun. He has snuffed it out by his own hand, and all he is left with is an endless night. All his fears have been realized. All his dreams have been crushed. He has done it himself.

Anakin feels nothing. He is a husk of a man, more cybernetics than living flesh. He has no autonomy left, he lives only to serve his master. He locks away his past, refuses to look at it, refuses to sifle through it. It brings only agony and suffering. He refuses to retread his steps, to reconsider his choices. If he did, the guilt would eat him alive. If he did, he would succumb to his own unbearable, irrefutable remorse.

Anakin Skywalker is consumed by regret. In his heart, he knows this.

Anakin Skywalker deserves no less.

***

You can probably tell I was very much inspired by Matthew Stover’s writing style in the RotS novelization, though much less poetic. I had fun however, and it was nice exploring a different style. Hope you enjoy it too! It’s an addition to The Mask of Death series on Ao3, link below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/navigate

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s5anyu · 4 years ago

Text

he is a terrible man. and yet amongst men, he is the most beautiful of characters.

Character Analysis for Askeladd of Vinland saga

On the surface, Askeladd is nothing more than a self-serving man. He is cunning, charming, and intelligent, qualities that no matter the disdain people have for his abrasive personality, have earned him respect amongst the Vikings, and beyond. Floki respects his intelligence enough to approach him to request the killing of a man who is regarded to be the strongest amongst all warriors. This being his first appearance is a solid testament to his ability to overcome any predicament – the basis of his development as a character throughout the Vinland Saga prologue. His men trust in all of his decisions, no matter how rash. They believe him to be as lucky as he is intelligent. His intelligence, wisdom and kindness complements the air of arrogance with which he carries himself. When hosted by his uncle Gorm, he laughs at him, before imparting wisdom on a young man who tells him that he would sooner die than live without pride. He says:

“Look. It’s terrible. The guy who’s a slave to money holds a whip and pretends to be the master of the slave he bought with his money. He just doesn’t realise it himself. Everyone is a slave to something.”

Such a sense of wisdom places Askeladd as a tool for Yukimura to present and explore the status of elders in Norse society. As an elder to Thorfinn, he guides him through different trials and encourages him to push his limits as a warrior, and become a better combatant. Regardless of whether or not life at war is the best option for Thorfinn, Askeladd always believes in him and his ability, and though he never expresses verbally his concern for Thorfinn’s wellbeing, he always shows an interest in Thorfinn’s safety and is always waiting for his return where the rest of his band do not care. To the other Vikings, Thorfinn is just another one of their men. Bjorn says of Thorfinn, “You trusted in his [Thorfinn’s] luck too much this time. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t lose anything.” This statement also reflects the stark individualism displayed by Vikings – although they may work together in bands of warriors or mercenaries or otherwise, they do so to serve their own interests – honour, valour, wealth, among many things. But to Askeladd, he is someone important - someone he cares for. When one considers the question of whether life at war is the best for Thorfinn the answer to this question evidences Askeladd’s selfishness. Despite knowing that life as a warrior is not the best for Thorfinn, he still uses him as a tool to further his own goals. In his own words, “It’s just easy to make use of an idiot who is not afraid of anything.”

There are, however, multiple occasions on which Askeladd appears to be straying from the typical Viking individualism of the era. The first example of this, is his kindness towards Thorfinn, as introduced in the previous paragraph. Amongst Vikings, such ideas of care and brotherhood are ultimately trumped by ideas of valour in battle and honour in death. One would not be greatly concerned with the death of one’s companions as long as they are assured that the departed are well on their way to the esteemed Valhalla – however the concern that Askeladd shows towards Thorfinn is evidence of his holding of attitudes that were unconventional for his time. This ties into the subtle revelation towards the end of the prologue that Askeladd does not believe that life at war is honourable, and does not hold the Viking people in esteem because of this; going so far as to disdain his own Norse heritage in favour of his Welsh heritage. His final actions and his final words reflect his sentiment from episode 10, Ragnarok, in which he declares:

"This is the age of twilight, Bjorn. Let’s go out with a bang."

In his final moments, he kills King Sweyn to protect both his motherland of Wales and the young Prince Canute. In this, he sacrifices himself to protect what is dear to him – and to protect King Canute who he grows to respect as a man with potential to be great in their short period of companionship. This is him leaving his mark on the age of twilight; this is him going out with a bang. He tells Thorfinn:

“In the future, after I die, how do you plan to live your life, Thorfinn? You haven’t thought about it, right? Move forward already. Don’t stay stuck in a boring place like this forever. Go far ahead, go beyond the world where Thors went. You’re Thors’ son. Go. That’s your real fight. Become a true warrior son of Thors.”

These last words reflect multiple things that are introduced at the beginning of the prologue and explored throughout it, the first being Askeladd’s feelings towards Thors. At the beginning of the prologue, Askeladd shows great respect to Thors throughout the duration of their battle. He outwardly expresses an appreciation for his strength, saying that he “could lead a whole army”. This statement shows that Thors is a man who is both physically strong and strong in character, and that Askeladd recognises this. He then asks of him, “why don’t you become our leader?” which shocks his men – as mentioned before they trust in him absolutely and are already surprised to see a man who can best him in hand-to-hand combat. However, none of them express dissent to this; whether this is out of shock or acceptance is open to interpretation. When he backtracks on this statement and says he’s only joking, one of the young men from the village try to attack Askeladd, to which he responds

“Damn kid. You should start valuing your life. You should be grateful to Thors. He was a man who was worth more than a hundred bratty kids like you.”

Askeladd greatly respects Thors and despite his decision, holds him in high esteem. The first part of this statement also reflects on his belief in – or at the very least respect for – Thors and his philosophy. He calls him a man of great value and he scolds the young man who he perceives as disrespecting the sacrifice that Thors made to keep him alive. “Don’t stay in a boring place like this” refers generally to the life of a warrior as opposed to their physical location of the king’s court. As detailed briefly above, Askeladd disdains the life of a warrior, and disdains the Vikings for it. Therefore, when he reminds Thorfinn “You’re Thors’ son”, he believes that Thorfinn Karlsefni has the potential to be as great as his father, if not more so. He believes that he can grow to become something greater than a warrior.

The second idea that this quote reflects is that of Askeladd’s care and concern for Thorfinn. He asks, “You haven’t thought about it, right?”. Askeladd has thought about how Thorfinn has been mentally since the passing of his father. Thorfinn has a stark hatred of battle and engages in it purely because of the hatred he has for Askeladd, and the proximity it gives him to his goal of killing him. Askeladd is aware of this. In his last moments, he could have been unkind and goading towards Thorfinn as he had been in the past – but instead he pushes him to seek something better. He knows that Thorfinn has been suffering emotionally and hasn’t known happiness from the day they met. Askeladd doesn’t appear as a man who wants to seek redemption – he wants Thorfinn to find happiness now that he has nowhere to direct the anger that has been his only motivator for the greater part of his childhood. From this, one could argue that Askeladd’s selfishness trumped his desire for Thorfinn to be happy. However, very early on in the prologue, Askeladd hints at his acceptance of defeat at Thorfinn’s hand.

"You’ve grown a lot. Well, time is on your side. You’re going to grow, and I’m going to get old. Someday, I’m going to lose to you. It’s only natural. Even the strongest dies someday."

Askeladd doesn’t attempt to dissuade Thorfinn from his desire for vengeance. Rather he tries to guide him towards the idea that vengeance is empty, and that any defeat he faces at Thorfinn’s hand is meaningless in the face of the natural order of the world. He knows that it is pointless to try and calm the resentment that Thorfinn harbours towards him; he knows the gravity of his sin and can’t tell Thorfinn not to hate him for it. From this, we can begin to explore the idea that Askeladd is similar to Thorfinn and sees himself in the younger man. Askeladd is just as full of hatred as Thorfinn is – as much as he is to a father figure to Thorfinn as a man, as a character, he serves as both a parallel and a foil to Thorfinn.

Askeladd is just as full of hatred as Thorfinn. His mother, Lydia, was taken from her homeland of Wales as a concubine to Olaf, and when she grew sick, she was of no value to him. She and her son were discarded and Askeladd grew to despise his father, and by extension his people. Askeladd, like Thorfinn, learned from the man he hated the most and sought revenge against him. Askeladd was successful in killing his father but his disdain for the Viking way of life and his bloodline led him to harbour resentment even into his old age. He is therefore a parallel to Thorfinn in that they both resent battle and war but tolerate it as a means to satisfying their own end. Askeladd, however, has seen and experienced first-hand the effects of Viking conquest on the innocent. Thorfinn has only seen it from the eyes of the oppressor.

Despite this, both continue to kill.

Askeladd’s ability to relate to Thorfinn’s anger is what makes him such a good father figure to him. He knows what it means to be so consumed by anger that you see nothing else, that you live for nothing else – to endure something you despise for the sake of vengeance. He knows that Thorfinn is miserable, and hurting, and lonely, because he is too. Such a sense of relatability is what puts him in a position to understand and take care of Thorfinn. It is because he understands how Thorfinn feels that he does not attempt to dissuade him from following him around in the hopes of killing him. He knows that Thorfinn cannot let go of the anger he has until he sees the recipient of that anger gone, because he too suffers from the same affliction. Therefore, it is not selfishness that drives Askeladd to keep Thorfinn around in his suffering – it is resignation; the same resignation he displays when he says that he will someday lose to Thorfinn.

Askeladd proves himself throughout his life to be ahead of his time. He is wise, caring, and understanding; but he is also cold, cunning, and ruthless. Man is not absolute, and Askeladd is no exception. But from those of his time, he is far above men – even with each and every of his nuances and flaws. he comes close to attaining the status of a true warrior as Thors was – and maybe if he had had more time, he could’ve seen his mother’s dream come true. The world is never that simple.

word from the writer:

When Askeladd was first introduced to me, he appeared to me as a terrible man. His intelligence and his strength is terrifying. A man who can kill for his own gain, without remorse. Such a terrible man. But amongst men he is the most beautiful of characters.

When I was writing this I wanted it to be a prelude to my upcoming essay on his relationship with Thorfinn. To some degree I’ve covered that here, so the next piece will most likely be on how Thorfinn views him and I would also like to talk about his relationship with prince Canute. Askeladd, despite not seeming like it, is a very fatherly man and I love looking at how he interacts with the other members of the cast. I hope you enjoyed this, and I’d love to hear what you guys have to say about this. my asks are always open.

Please look forward to the next piece in my Vinland Saga series.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #askeladd #bjorn #makoto yukimura #seinen #manga #anime #vinland saga canute #canute the great #analysis #philosophy #thors #thorfinn karlsefni #lucius artorius castus #danish #vikings #individualism #wales

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narutogwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Wildest Dreams

Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

CW: mild nsfw; angst

Length: 2.5k+

Inspired by “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck as you stand motionless. The moonlight spills in through the window, lighting up the otherwise dark room. You’re holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound. You don’t want to break the spell, worried that this is all a dream.

His hands brush through your hair, gathering the strands to move them over one shoulder, exposing the back of your neck to him. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips begin to press light, open mouthed kisses to the bare skin. His hands pull your hair, tilting your head to the side and revealing more of your neck. The other hand trails down your arm which is pinned close to your side. His fingers gliding over you brings goosebumps to the skin.

If this was wrong, you didn’t care. If this made you a traitor, you would gladly spend a lifetime on the run if it meant you could spend every night like this. You knew that you would have to wake up soon. This could only happen in your wildest dreams. But somehow, it was reality.

You weren’t supposed to be alone. Teams were put together even on the simplest missions for a reason. The world was a dangerous, unsafe place, and outside the perimeters of a village, anything could happen.

But you had never seen the ocean before. In all of your years as a ninja, none of your missions had brought you to the shore. So when you were sent to help a beachside town, you didn’t want to leave. All you wanted was to feel the sand in between your toes and breathe the salt air into your lungs. Reluctantly, your teammates agreed to head back home without you. You would only be a day or two, after all.

The small town was full of cute little boutiques with seashell necklaces and beachy dresses. You couldn’t help but to buy something, wanting to live out the romantic picture you had in your head. In a white maxi dress with a slit up the side and tiny starfish earrings, you headed to the shore.

The sun was beginning to set, and you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Reflecting off the waves were the most radiant pinks and oranges you’d ever seen in your life. It was blinding, and the line where the sky met the sea gave you the feeling that you were being called to something more.

You could have stayed there forever. You wanted to. Maybe you should. Leave the leaf, put the shinobi way of life behind you and spend the rest of your days with your feet in the sand and saltwater in your hair.

It was only out of the corner of your eye that you noticed another figure arriving on the beach, standing a ways away from you, taking in the vision like you were. You wondered what that person was thinking and feeling, if they were in awe of the natural beauty the way you were. Did the vastness of the sea make everything in their life seem small the way it did yours?

You’d always been a dreamer, lost in your own head. You longed for someone who saw the things you saw, and thought the things you did. It was a bad habit you’d picked up, projecting your own fantasies onto others, but you couldn’t help it. You were desperate for the type of connection that made everything else fall into place.

On a whim, you turned to look at the person. You weren’t going to talk to them, not wanting to break the magical spell the scene had placed on you. It was simple curiosity, wanting to know who you shared this special moment with.

Nothing could have prepared you for who it was you saw.

After an eternity, his lips detach themselves from your neck. Both hands holding your arms, he turns you slowly to face him. You have to tilt your head back to look at him; he was so much taller now than he had been last time you saw him. Shakily, your hands move to touch him in a way you never thought you would.

You place a hand against his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath your fingertips. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and neither were you a little girl. His black hair still stood out shockingly against his pale skin, but those normally cold dark eyes were alight, staring into yours, burning with something you’d never seen before.

His hand reached up, caressing your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of, gaze so intense you thought you would buckle under it. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fluttering up into your throat, choking you with something you didn’t have a name for. The adrenaline they brought sent signals to your brain, screaming for you to run.

But it was already too late. He was a lion, and you were the prey. You would gladly let him devour you whole.

You were a sight for sore eyes, the relief at having some kind of familiarity shocking him. It had been so long since he’d been home, and he never missed it. He’d done everything he could to sever all his ties to the Leaf, and he never thought of it at all anymore.

So the leap in his chest at seeing you after so many years was almost overwhelming for him. How long had it been since he’d last felt anything other than apathy? That was what he’d been wondering as he’d stared into the sinking sun, watching as the light shined off the water like diamonds.

Sometimes, when he looked at something so big, something that seemed so infinite like the ocean, it made him--all of his hate and aspirations--feel small and meaningless. Sometimes it made him wonder if he could just shrink, disappear into nothingness and leave it all behind. The hurt, the anger, the hatred. But who was he without those feelings?

And then there was you, standing there like a vision, as if you were the answer to all his unsaid prayers. Had this been any other time, any other moment, he probably wouldn’t have felt this way. His walls would have been up. He wouldn’t have paid you a second look. He couldn’t afford to.

But that was what made the whole thing seem so serendipitous. You were there at the exact right time, the time when his guard was down, and he was searching for some kind of answer.

You looked like an angel standing in your white dress, and the sunset reflecting in your eyes looked like a fire burning within you. He wanted to touch your rosey cheeks, press his lips against your red ones. It was a vision he would keep in his mind long after he’d left you behind.

“No one has to know,” You whisper. Your foreheads are pressed together, your lips but a centimeter apart. You both agree; it’ll be a secret between the two of you, a memory that you’ll tuck away in the very back of your mind. One you’ll only remember in the dead of night while everyone else is asleep.

His hands go to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands. He lets the soft curls run through his fingers a few times, and a blissful sigh leaves your lips at the gentle touch. Then, suddenly, his fingers are tightening at the nape of your neck. You gasp at the roughness, though it comes out as a broken moan. He pulls your head back by your hair, staring down at you with lust in his eyes.

You reach for him with shaky hands, pulling at the tie on his robe, pushing the cloak off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, leaving his upper body bare, and your eyes take in every inch of him.

The want is clear on your face, and you are putty in his hands. You know it, and so does he. It should be scary, being so vulnerable with someone, being so willing to please. But you know he isn’t going to take advantage of you. He’s not going to hurt you. At least not in any way that you won’t let him.

You hear your name leave his lips, and the sound is so familiar. You’d played his voice in your head a million times over the years, but it’d been starting to fade. You hadn’t wanted to lose his voice, and now you were sure you never would. You could never forget the way your name sounded coming from his lips.

A part of you is almost surprised he even recognized you. It had been a long time, afterall, and you doubted that he had ever thought of you much. You were never one of his screaming girls, just a silent fan watching him from the sidelines, wanting him to succeed. You always wished you would be the one to break through his defenses, but your attempts had only ever left you bruised.

But he’s looking at you, and you think he sees you. He really sees you, and it leaves you weightless, breathless, nothing else in the world exists or matters. It doesn’t make sense, that he’s here, that he knows you, that he’s talking to you. It’s like something you dreamed up, but he’s here, and this is really happening.

You wonder if he’ll remember this the same way you will, if he’ll look back on tonight as a pivotal moment in his life the way. Here, in this inn room, is a liminal space. You can’t stay here with him, as much as you may want to. You must cross over, make a decision, some kind of move. In this room, you are leaving something behind, but not fully where you are going.

Nothing lasts forever, but for now you can stay, and you can remember.

“Say you’ll remember me.”

The words come out as a desperate moan as you grasp your hands in his hair. He’s sucking bruises into your skin, barely containing himself. Your clothes are on a pile on the floor somewhere, mixed with his own. The two of you are tangled in each other; you don’t know where you start or where he ends.

He hums against you, letting you know he heard you. You want to hear him say it, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure to really care. His fingers are pumping into you insistently, becoming more and more impatient. You can feel him hard as he presses against you, eager. Needy.

Finally, he pulls back from you, you both are panting are, trying to catch your breath. You stare up at him, searching. His eyes meet yours, and they’re no longer dark as night; they’re red as blood, and you’re hypnotized, totally caught up in him.

“I’ll remember.”

And then his lips are on yours, and he’s pressing inside you, and it burns so good you think you’ll lose your mind. You think you must be making noise because how could you stay quiet when there’s so much pleasure, but anything coming out of your mouth is swallowed up by his.

You’re arching into him, desperate, and he’s holding you to his body so tightly it’s like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear at any moment. Your name is tumbling continuously from his lips and it sounds like a poem you could spend a lifetime listening to. You know there is only tonight, but you can let yourself dream.

On the bed, on the counter, against the wall. He takes you on every surface he can manage, bucking into you wildly, and you think this must be the most out of control he’s ever been in his life, and the fact that it’s because of you has your head reeling. You’ve never wanted something so bad in your entire existence.

Your mouths are pressed together, your tongues clashing. He hooks your leg over his shoulder and he presses into you so completely your head spins, and you’re convulsing around him, screaming his name desperately.

More.

You need more.

The room is spinning, you think you’re still crying out, and his movements haven’t stopped or even slowed.

You feel like you could pass out then and there, but you force your eyes open, wanting to take in every movement, every inch of him, and you realize he’s doing the same. His eyes haven’t left you once, and it’s overwhelming, the intensity of his gaze.

“Say my name.”

He’s commanding you and begging you all at once, and you have no choice but to comply. Saying his name feels like the answer to your prayer.

And then he’s cuming, hips stuttering into yours as he spills inside of you. He continues to rock into you as he rides through his high, lips smashed harshly against yours. You never want him to stop, but eventually he does, stilling inside of you.

He’s propping himself up by his elbows, barely, breathing hard as he looks at you. You’re both caught in the dream. You never want to wake up.

And you definitely don’t want to ruin this, but you can’t help yourself. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair as you force out the words, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Will I see you again?”

You both know the answer. You are two very different people on two very different paths. You can’t ask him to stay anymore than he can ask you to leave, and you both know this.

But it’s like an unspoken agreement. It’s okay to pretend that, yes, you will see each other again, that no, this isn’t the end. So he says it, says yes. He will see you again.

So you spend the rest of the night pretending. In between every kiss, every touch, you talk about the ways things might have been and then you ride him desperately, or he takes you from behind, and as you catch your breaths, you continue to pretend.

You spend all the dark hours tangled up in each other.

You’re gone the next morning before he wakes. You had to be. You knew you couldn’t survive it, seeing him leave you. You had to be the one to go.

By now you couldn’t smell the sea salt or feel the ocean breeze on your skin. You were too far gone, moving quicker than you usually would. The faster you got home, the faster you left it all behind you, a distant memory.

Part of you wished you had stayed, at least said goodbye. But you knew you couldn’t. The night had ended on a high. Anything else would have shattered the spell he had cast on you.

He sat up, alone in the inn room. Sunlight was just starting to spill through the blinds as he shrugged his robe back over his shoulders. He made a move to leave, but a small note on the nightstand caught his eye. He picked it up, examining the neat, cursive print.

see you in my wildest dreams

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dwlrmoon · 4 years ago

Text

Astrological Analysis: I.M "Duality"

An astrological analysis of I.M's solo album "Duality" & how his astrological placements manifest through the songs. Changkyun said that he poured his entire soul into this album, so I thought it'll be really cool to dissect the songs in the astrological lens because I'm in love with his artistry.

REMINDER

Observed & analyzed through western tropical astrology; we are missing information due to lack of confirmed birth time, so I can only deliver using the traditional 7 planets (mainly the personal chart) without a house system.

DUALITY

Having the album entitled "Duality" with songs expressing this topic (esp. the title track) reminds me of his Aquarius placements, mainly the Sun. I.M has his Sun in detriment, meaning that his Sun is "weak" or uncomfortable in that sign. As the sister sign of Leo, Aquarius symbolizes celebrities, fame, the star in tarot, as well as hopes & dreams. Aquarius can represent notoriety & infamy while simultaneously having the stereotype of the loner or outsider, not wanting to be perceived or "understood."

Using traditional rulership, Aquarius is ruled by Saturn who also rules Capricorn. If Capricorn rules authorities & conformities, Aquarius is the rebellious younger sibling refusing to conform & rather revolt, deviating from the norm. I.M placed his artistry in precedence; convincing SSE to use God Damn as the title track despite the profanity requiring him to release this album digitally in addition to him creating the tracks in his own style that may or may not be in line with k-pop or Monsta X.

GOD DAMN

In true I.M fashion the song & MV are very concupiscent, & since I already talked about the duality that is expressed through this song, let's talk about the MV specifically. Pisces rules escapism & addiction & his Pisces Venus was very on brand to go with alcohol as the imagery of getting high to hide from his frustrations. This piece is highly self-reflective & he encourages listeners to read between the lines, it's quite Saturnian in nature. I also love how the lyrics have that duality of hating & loving whoever/whatever that is ruining/comforting him—I really associate this with his Martian Moon (him assigning Misbehave as the song that represents him is so... Aries Moon).

HOWLIN'

No more taming 'bout my color I swing 'till I get, what’s the problem? Problem I ain't follow simply what I see I go follow what I need 'Cause I see that I'm loyal Imma go on my speed, even I'm slow

The 1st verse reminds me a lot of his Saturnian + Martian energy—no more wanting to be someone he's not, doing his own thing without care of what others may think. However, the last 2 lines really highlight the fixed modality of his Aquarius: I love that he says he's loyal even if he goes on his speed which can be slow; he doesn't care as long as he gets there.

I don't celebrate 'till I make it till the end Ain't time for the 'hol up' You want me be a shade but I'm made for a big wave Ain't time for the 'hol up'

This song has a lot of Saturnian themes esp. the chorus. It reminds us that Saturn rules time—he doesn't succumb to the challenges & distractions or "hold ups," rather focusing on his goal & only celebrating once he reaches the mountaintop. Saturn is karmic, it takes its sweet time to give you your rewards that you must work laboriously for. He knows he's made for something bigger (Aquarius), & with his perseverance (fixed), determination & passion (Aquarius Mars + Aries Moon), he will be rewarded despite all the struggles (Saturn).

Don't call me, I'm drivin' I just wanna keep on ballin’ Even though when you are hatin’ Woah Grab me when I'm fallin’ 'Cause I make myself so lonely You know that I'm howlin'

However, Saturn can be extremely isolating & Aquarius is akin to the underdog. Of course we don't know where his placements are, but his Pisces Venus contributes to that isolation. He feels lonely & he knows that, but he inevitable makes himself lonely which Aquarius natives can do when they develop that mentality of me v.s. the world sometimes. Keep in mind that Aquarius rules community yet the outsider, showcasing that wanting to be alone while wanting someone to be there for him. Saturn is burden & he's a lone wolf used to being alone carrying all that burden himself.

BURN

The night has become cold and now it's a meaningless fight I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Endless shot, let me head to the top I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Burn the accumulated emotions, burn Burn everything without leaving anything, burn

An Aries Moon anthem? I find that Aries placements love having fire/burning imagery if not in their songs then in their MVs. Aries is Martian, cardinal & fire by nature, which means that Aries Moons may get irritated fairly quickly—a quick temper? But they get over it super quickly, kind of like blowing off steam & then letting it go right after. The Moon rules our emotions, & I think the lyrics speak for itself here. The allusion to the fight is very Martian as well.

I'm mixed and complex, yeah I don't know myself well, eh Yesterday I couldn't empty it out, yeah I'd rather burn it, yeah The tears that fell are oil Make the flame burn higher Pour it out, no more regrets Burn it all up and high, yeah

I really enjoy I.M's introspective & intrapersonal nature; he always says he doesn't know himself well & accepts that rather than fighting it. He accepts all facets of himself, & that's very refreshing. The 2nd verse made me chuckle a little bit because the first 2 lines look Aquarius while the rest is Aries. Not to mention he has an Aquarius Mars conjunct Sun, so, more Martian energy there. Cardinal + Martian give me that attitude he portrays very well in this song—throw some more oil, let it burn more so that there'll be no regrets. Another Aries placement who wrote something like this? Yoongi.

HAPPY TO DIE

I could die right now, yeah I can never lie, yeah You bring me to sky Let me be yours till I die When you say goodbye, yeah Bury me on your heart, yeah Don't you say that word Could you keep it till I die? You brought me back to the real love I wanna get lost here forever

There is so much to unpack in this little song... The chorus is a mixture of Saturnian commitment & Aries headstrong, passionate reckless energy motivated by his romanticist Pisces Venus. The title itself, the whole concept of this song, is fundamentally Pisces (his DSC would be really cool to talk about here, if we had the birth time, but we don't, so).

We're childish like we were when we used to play back then I let go of rationality as if I'm drawn by the wind I don't know what this feeling is Even if I try to pretend I don't know, everything seems to be obvious, yeah I don't know, I like it the way it is I don't know me well, I don't know I guess it's not a lie that I really like you I'm happy to die right now

Verse 1 truly has my heart in a grip. He has a rational & intellectually-minded Saturnian Mercury & Sun, yet once he's in love he gets enamoured & childish, rendered completely irrational. It's giving me Aries meets Pisces—of the moment, idealistic, just overwhelming emotions taking control of his Saturnian mind, which I find funny because he has Moon square Mercury.

Things of mine might go away and shape Will just change, but don't you change When I'm low, could you make me not alone? I could die right now if we were just this crazy about each other

Pisces is sentimental & can represent past lives, that feeling of being stuck in the past? Pisces Venus is visionary & idealistic, they're more in love with the idea of love than love itself sometimes. Here we see that theme of isolation again, his Aquarius could play a role here, but his Pisces placements are also desperate to be loved. The last line, like said before, is utterly Pisces because Romeo & Juliet is known to be a Pisces type of relationship, plus with that Aries Moon... it just makes sense since Aries Moons love the rush & passion.

시든 꽃 FLOWER-ED

Somehow I have no strength to resist I stay right where I am It's not like I'm longing for someone But I'm standing there

Personally loving how his songs gradually grow more & more Piscean? The overwhelming emotion of yearning with no one to long for is so Pisces/Jupiterian Venus in general. Like I said, they're idealistic & in love with the idea of love more than anything—not the happy kind of love either. I notice that Jupiterian Venuses play with the theme of wanting a lot, mainly because they are ruled by the planet of expansion. Distance is a huge theme in Jupiterian signs, & they idealize that.

When you step on me like it's nothing I desperately want you to come back and hug mе I deeply remember your smilе that laughed at me While I was being illuminated by you

Because Pisces placements love the idea of love & the feeling of longing for someone they can get into the habit of sacrificing themselves, hence their association with the hanged man in tarot. They are too focused on the fantasy of love to take off their rose tinted glasses.

I don't really blame you I know your days by my side Have faded away Please don't disappear, oh

The hand that held me, the eyes that captured me are all blind The scattered hands, the shining eyes are gone

I don't know what else to say here, like, I think you guys understand how these verses really depicts his Pisces Venus very well... With a Venus conjunct Saturn it can really emphasize isolation & rejection as well—this aspect feels like they are deprived of love, so they crave it desperately even if it hurts them which is a theme of Pisces. Him titling this track "withered flower" in Korean is so Pisces Venus of him overall.

#i.m #changkyun #im changkyun #monsta x #kpop astrology #monsta x astrology #changkyun scenarios #monsta x scenarios

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oikawaplssteponme · 5 years ago

Text

Close as Strangers: pt 2

part 1

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: swearing, breakup, suggestive content

genre: angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi hi! i cant believe so many of you wanted a part 2 so here it is! you all seem to like how i write for bakugou which means a lot💕!! i once again hurt my own feelings a little bit with this one but it has a better ending than part 1 hehe. enjoy xx

•

Silence is the absence of noise. Sadness is the absence of joy. Fear is the absence of courage. Just because you are quiet at one point, doesn’t mean you will stay quiet forever. Just because you are sad at one point, doesn’t mean you’ll never be happy again. Things can go missing for short periods of time or even long ones but one thing is for sure; they always come back eventually.

You were the absence of Katsuki Bakugou. He was gone. No longer in your vicinity. Every time you saw him, he felt more like a ghost than a person. Lurking around, observing you. You supposed that’s what always happens when you break up with someone. They become a memory that you wish to kept stored and never remember. Just looking at their face can give you a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Breaking up with someone is a weird concept. The person you love most can become the person you never want to see again over night. Especially when things end the way they did between you and Bakugou.

His silence was deafening. It seemed that his silence said more than his shouting or screams ever did. His promises were just as empty. He promise to do better. He promised to make things better. However, he didn’t. You always took Bakugou as a man who stuck to his words. Maybe he stuck to his word more when it didn’t come to you.

You thought that distracting yourself with others would help. You spent a lot of time with Deku. He was a good guy after all and he gave you a lot of attention, which was something you had been missing. The two of you weren’t together though, no matter how badly Izuku wanted otherwise.

“Y/N!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Deku rushing towards you with one of his dashing smiles.

“Oh hi...”

He took a seat next to you on the common area couch, putting his arm around you.

“How are you? I didn’t see you much today,” he said. You shrugged.

“I’m alright, just been busy I guess.”

“Oh okay. Well we can hang in my room if you’d like?” suggested Deku. As tempting as sitting in a room filled with All Might posters sounded, you wanted to be alone.

“I actually don’t feel that great so I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” you explained. You got up from the couch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laid flat on your bed, staring at your ceiling. One part of you was telling you to just go to Izuku’s room, the other was telling you to go to Bakugou’s. Both seemed like the wrong answer.

You turned to your side. On top of your desk was a picture frame. The picture was backwards. You flipped the picture frame over and began to open it up.

It was a picture of you and Bakugou. You had fallen asleep on him in his room and he was out cold as well. He had left the door open, prompting his friends to enter his room and observe this softer side of Bakugou. They had snapped a picture, which was the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away.

You felt guilty for feeling these feelings. You shouldn’t miss him. Yet here you were, missing the boy who broke your heart beyond repair. What held you back from dating Izuku was that he wasn’t Bakugou.

You set the picture frame down and slipped on a jacket and some shoes. Quietly, you left your room and allowed your feet to take you where they pleased. That inevitably led you to his door.

Your fist hovered maybe a millimeter away from his door. You were so close to knocking, unsure if you wanted him to answer or not. You took a deep breath before placing two small taps on his door.

He was probably asleep. He would probably get mad if you woke him up. You knew you should leave. What happens if he answers? What happens then?

“H-Hi...”

Bakugou’s eyes widened when he recognized that it was you at his doorstep. You were shaking, unsure if it was from nerves or the cold air the swarmed the dorms.

“I’m sorry for bothering you...I-l’ll leave-” you ran from his door so quickly. Your feet led you outside the dorms and to the training ground.

There was a sense of comfort at the training ground. That was probably why you would always come here whenever you were upset. It was like reminiscing in what used to be, and how much you missed it.

“You’re predictable.”

You looked up at Bakugou, who stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“Why’d you follow me?”

“Hey you ran from me. No shit I’d be curious as to why.”

Bakugou held his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s talk inside.”

You sat on Bakugou’s bed. From the months you had been apart, his room hadn’t changed a bit. His desk had a picture frame on it, however it was turned around.

Bakugou took a seat at the edge of his bed, while your back was pressed against his bed frame.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” you said plainly. Bakugou huffed.

“Why’d you knock on my door?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Bullshit Y/N.”

“I can’t give you a good answer,” you whispered.

“You don’t get to decide if the answer is good or not. I do, so just spit it out.”

You shook your head.

“God that damn nerd must have a hell of a lot of patience dealing with you...”

“Fuck you.”

“So that’s why you came to my door? Fair enough,” he chuckled. You clenched your fists.

“Deku and I aren’t together,” you shot back. This got a reaction out of him. Bakugou moved closer to you.

“Good, because that nerd doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“You don’t know me at all, since half of the time when we were together you would ignore me.”

Bakugou moved closer again.

“So you’re just gonna scold me for everything I did wrong when we were together?”

“That would take too long.”

“Then why are you here?”

You leaned in to be closer to Bakugou’s face. You looked him dead in the eyes.

“I’m clingy, remember?”

“Hey I apologized for that-”

“You could apologize a million times more but that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix us or what we could’ve been or what we were. You and your apologies are meaningless to me,” you said.

“Meaningless? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well if I’m so meaningless, then why haven’t you left yet? Why are you sitting so pretty on my bed? Legs crossed, eyes wide. I’m not so sure Y/N, something is telling me there’s more to this,” smirked Bakugou. Your stomach clenched.

“Just answer me this.” Bakugou moved to have you pressed against the bed frame again, his hand on the frame next to your head. You gulped.

“Me or him?”

“That’s not-”

“Answer me.”

Bakugou’s breath was hot on your face. You both knew the answer, only you knew it was the wrong one. This interaction with Bakugou was probably more than you two ever spoke in your last week of dating.

“What happens after I answer? Nothing changes,” you said.

“If nothing is gonna change, why are you so hesitant?”

You sighed.

“I want things to change. I want you to change.”

“I’ll change-”

“No you won’t. You say you will but we both know you won’t. The second I leave this room, you and I will be as close as strangers, just as we always were. I gave you second chances but I can’t give you anymore. I can’t give myself that false hope that you’ll do better, because you won’t,” you cried.

Bakugou sat back. His demeanor changed from confident to melancholy.

“I hate seeing you with him. I hate it!”

“Katsuki-“

“You picked him to hurt me, didn’t you? You’re not suppose to be with him. You’re supposed to be with me-”

For once, you wanted silence. The only way you could think to get that desired silence was to shut Bakugou up.

The only way you thought to do that was to kiss him.

Shut him up with the lips he used to beg to kiss. With the clashing of teeth and tongue you both so desperately craved. Your hands held Bakugou’s cheeks as you kissed him. He pulled you towards him. His hands gripped tightly onto your waist as you sat on his lap. Your hands now tangled in his hair. His hands exploring every inch of you that he had missed so much. Oh how he kissed you. Certainly he was doing that better at least.

You and Bakugou had to gasp for air.

“Please Y/N... don’t pick him...”

You looked at Bakugou. He had puppy dog eyes. His lips began to quiver and he quickly buried his face into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...”

He continued to mutter these apologies to you. He cried so softly into your chest. You shushed him, rubbing his back to calm him down, kissing the top of his head. He tightened his grip around your waist, holding onto your t-shirt.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay...”

Bakugou hugged you so tightly. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away again.

“Bakugou look at me,” you ordered. His red eyes looked into yours. You gently wiped away his stray tears.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. But I want the version of you that I fell in love with, not the one that broke my heart. And that’s the problem. I don’t know which one I’m going to get.”

Bakugou shook his head.

“Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves so I try to leave first but I won’t this time. I won’t mess up. I can’t bare to see you with anyone else but me...”

“I don’t like it either. I’m trying to move on but it’s really hard...”

“Please I’ll do anything to have you back...absolutely anything...”

“I just need you to do better... and not just promise to do it, I need actions Katsuki...”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I swear. Y/N please...I love you.”

Your eyes widened, then began to shed its own tears. You hugged Bakugou again.

“I love you Bakugou.”

You showered the blond boy with endless kisses, unsure what else to do. You really did love him. That fact never changed.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The next day, Katsuki Bakugou did better.

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @luluwiie @tanakasprayer @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy ]

#willow.🌸#bakugou x you #katsuki bakugō #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou angst #katsuki x y/n #mha katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsukibakugou #mha #bnha #my hero academia angst

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sleepyseguin · 5 years ago

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tyler seguin | i still see your face (nsfw)

summary: you and tyler break up. it’s harder than you thought it would be.

a/n: highly recommend listening to driver’s licence by olivia rodrigo to get the whole vibe. my spotify must think i have a problem by the constant repeat.

It’s not like you haven’t had a break up before. It’s just that this one feels different. Raw. A ragged edge that’s been torn. You drink too much beer and sleep too little. Your friends rally around you, of course they do, drag you to clubs with too many teenagers, tell you they never liked Tyler anyway. But the lie is thin, and in the dim bathroom of the bar one says, but why did you guys break up? What happened? You blink at her, mouth tasting of tequila. I don’t know.

-/-

Of course you know. You’re an adult. You made this decision together, sat on his couch. One of his throw pillows hugged to your chest so he couldn’t see the way your hands were shaking.

“If this is really what you want,” Tyler had said, and you could hear the scratch in his throat, the way his eyes shone too bright. Unshed tears.

You hadn’t been able to speak, tongue too thick, hot tears on your cheeks, fresh ones ready to replace as they dried sticky on your chin.

He was away from home too much. Your lives were going in different directions. You had opportunities to travel with work, and it’s not like he could come with you. It was best to do it now, a clean break, rather than struggle on, slowly tearing.

You’d cried all the way home from his house, struggling to keep the wheel straight. Your mother would have been horrified by the reckless driving. When you’d finally dared to look at your phone, that first night alone, Tyler’s text made you sob all over again. I love you. Always.

-/-

You talk to him, sometimes. You can’t help yourself. It’s like an itch that becomes unbearable. You have to scratch. Meaningless text message chains. How are you? Fine, you? I’m okay. I miss you. I miss you too. You know it’s not helpful, not the path towards healing that your married friends preach. But it makes it easier to sleep. Knowing he’s still out there. It’s a blissful kind of agony when he texts you unprompted, in the middle of the night, sometimes the middle of the afternoon. I think of you all the time or I dreamt about you or I thought I saw you at the game. Your own misery overwhelms. Winter sets in. You struggle through grey days, take the long way home to drive past his street. Pray you don’t see another car next to his.

-/-

You cry on the phone to your mother, great big sobs like a child does when they’ve lost their favourite toy. She tells you she’ll fly out.

“No, it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can do this.”

“You can,” she assures, but the surety seeps away as soon as you hang up. A bottle of wine in front of the television. Take out. You’re either starving or not hungry at all now. You only watch ten minutes of an episode before you’re switching to the NHL channel. It’s too hard to forget the schedule. It’s like a reminder in your brain when you wake up in the morning, he’s playing today. You used to nap together, in the afternoons before games. The weak sunlight, the dancing dust mites. A Friend’s episode turned low. Tyler would reach for you in his sleep, nuzzle into your neck. Like he could never get close enough. Like he knew you would leave one day.

-/-

A mutual friends birthday. You’d tried to make excuses, but even you didn’t believe them.

“It’s worse to avoid him,” your friend says, “It will only make it harder later.”

So in an effort to do the Right Thing, to be a Big Girl, and Move On, you find yourself drinking too strong punch, pieces of apple and orange floating in a plastic cup, leaning into a guy you just met and laughing too loud.

And it is fun. For awhile. A mix of old friends and new. Loud music. And for most of the night, he’s not there. He’s so late you think he’s not coming. And you pretend you’re crying because you’re relieved and not because you’re disappointed. You’ve been smart enough to take yourself to the bathroom for the small meltdown, bent over the counter and taking deep breaths. You’re too old to be getting this smashed at a house party. It’s hard to focus on yourself in the mirror, bending light. It’s a good thing he’s not coming, you tell yourself, and wish you could believe it.

You’re headed to the kitchen, the sink full of ice and hiding your drinks. Tyler is there. Tyler is there, standing in the hallway, talking to the host. His big hand makes the beer he’s holding look like a kid’s toy. He’s laughing, crinkly eyes, the sound reaching you. Slapping the guy on the shoulder, enjoying the joke. He’s so happy. How can he be so happy?

Dark eyes meet yours, the fall of his mouth from the grin. He goes to say something, call out maybe, but you’re turning away already, pushing back into the lounge room, the backdoor. Fresh air. Cold crisp of a Texan winter. The weather reporters are saying it might snow this year. He finds you. Of course he does. In the back-garden, looking up at the moon, counting stars. Your name in a familiar voice. The way he says it makes your heart hurt. You can barely look at him, the grass moving under your feet as you turn to face him. Curls peeking out from under a beanie. Black hoodie, dark jeans. You recognise the hoodie. You used to wear it to bed sometimes.

“Hi,” you say, trying to be causal, wanting desperately to be, but at the same time you’re reaching out, clinging onto his arm. Don’t ever let go again.

Tyler smiles, sad and small, “It’s nice to see you.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, head back, gazing up at him. The moon has nothing on Tyler. Come back to me, you want to say, but this is your fault. You did this. You made this happen.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, and you think yes, yes, just ask me, I’ll come back I promise, “I think it’s better if we don’t talk anymore. It’s too hard.”

“Oh,” you say. It suddenly seems so much colder out here. “Okay.”

You watch him walk away, back into the house, the light of the party. And if you cry in the Uber on the way home, no one else has to know.

-/-

The first time you sleep together, afterwards, you could almost convince yourself it’s an accident. Not talking hadn’t lasted long. A loss, a commiserating text, a wish to just go back to the way things were. We can, you’d said, just for one night.

It’s almost awkward, the way he’s a stranger around you again. He looks tired, sore, sweatpants and a hoodie. Pink cheeks from the cold outside. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling around his ears. You want to stay here, like this, forever, letting him sit you down in the bed, holding your face in his big hands to kiss you from where he stands between your knees. The way Tyler says your name, wanting, needy. The press of his body on yours. You missed this. You missed this so much. It would never be the same with anyone else. The way he touches you, so carefully, so purposefully. He knows just how you like it, just how you work together.

It’s a habit, for you to be on top after a game, not worth making him expend any more energy. But he fights you for it, doesn’t let you settle, rolls you over onto your back again. You protest, mildly.

“It’ll make you sore,” you say, can’t stop touching him, his hair, his face, his back, his chest. His skin is warm from the hoodie.

“Don’t care,” Tyler says, a crooked smile, nudging his nose against yours, “I want it like this, want to see you properly.”

Your heart is broken and remade simultaneously. It’s all you can do not to pull the doona over both of you and hide forever, keep him here like a prisoner. Cherish him for an age. His mother would never forgive you.

Your body aches for him, as he nudges open your legs, kisses your mouth, your neck, your breasts. You should take your time, enjoy it, the last time, but you can’t help but surge towards the end.

“Want you inside me,” you whisper, fingers on his hips, angling him.

“Yeah,” Tyler rasps, aligning himself, “Fuck. Yeah, please.”

The relief of him sinking home, the opening of your body to him. It’s too easy, almost, the rhythm he settles into. Your legs tight around his waist, groaning when he pulls one up over his shoulder, finds a new angle. A big hand palming at your breast, the way he says your name, thick and low. You come a few moments before him, get off on the way he watches you, holds you, fingers caressing just above where he slides in and out of you. It takes everything not to cry, the final release, the drop of endorphins.

Tyler shakes when he comes, a whole body shudder as he holds himself deep, panting against your ear. You stare at the ceiling and blink away tears. How could you ever have walked away from this? Nothing feels right unless he’s here.

Later, he gets up to leave, but you reach out before he can get out of bed.

“Please stay,” you whisper, pathetic. Tyler’s a shadow in the dark, but he’s warm when he slides back under the covers, gathers you up against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat as you fall asleep.

-/-

It takes you another week to swallow your pride. You call your mother, again, cry on the phone, again.

“I think I was wrong, I think I made a huge mistake.”

“If he is who you say he is,” she counsels, “He’ll forgive you.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

You’re convinced that someone will be in your parking spot the whole drive to his house. A new car. A girl’s car. You can’t breathe along his whole tree lined street, until you see the empty spot. Like it’s waiting for you. Like it has been this whole time.

You almost slump into him when he opens the door, the relief, the grief. He’s surprised to see you. Sleepy. Got in late last night from a Roadie. The dogs are everywhere at once, bumping you into each other as they try to get a cuddle. Tyler stumbles into you, forced by Marshall’s heavy tail. Your hand on his ribcage, steadying. Are you really going to do this? On his front step? Behind him, you can see your red coat on the coat hook. So that’s where it was. You’ve been looking for it in the cold. And he’s kept it, this whole time. Waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Tyler shakes his head, confused, furrowed brow, “What’s going on?”

“I made a mistake. I made a stupid mistake. I got scared, and I panicked. The truth is. I love you. And I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. And it’s scary. I’m so scared. But I shouldn’t have taken it on you like this. It was wrong. And if you can’t. If you can’t forgive me I understand. But. I really, really want you, too.”

He says your name, quietly, prayer like. Your hand is still on his chest.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and the dogs are still all around you, the front door is wide open. Tyler’s socked feet on the porch.

“I’m so sure.”

And he’s laughing. He’s laughing. And he’s kissing you. Warm and fresh and familiar. And then you’re laughing and then you’re crying and Tyler is just holding, holding, holding you.

And along the street, a warm breeze blows through the trees. The promise of summer.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl imagine #tyler seguin smut #hockey smut #imagine

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wallgirl · 4 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part 17

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 1,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Warning for this chapter: references to injury and blood, largely at the end of the chapter. Avoid if squeamish.

—

Am I dead?

It was the first thought to arise as she woke out of a thick haze. Tiny motes of dust drifted before her, but when her eyes tried to focus on them, they seemingly disappeared. Had they been there at all?

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Before her was an endless expanse of black, completely impenetrable and all encompassing. She instinctively knew that it went on forever, despite not being able to see anything besides her own pale body. She felt some sort of tepid liquid beneath her feet - was it water? - but couldn't bring herself to look down past her shoulders. She remembered in horrific blurs what had happened to bring her to this place, and feared what she might see there.

But I don't feel any pain. Could it be...? Dynamene looked hesitantly down at herself. Her white peplos stretched clean and untorn across her intact chest. She pressed her skin hesitantly, but felt no pain. It was as if the wound had never existed.

Now that she had gotten her bearings, she turned about in hopes of spotting something, anything, in the endlessness. Is this purgatory? Dynamene knew that when deities perished, so did their souls. Their consciousness ceased to exist along with their body. I think, therefore I am. I must not be dead. So what's going on? A neutral silence did nothing to sate her curiosity. Is this it?

Seconds ticked by with no change. A feeling of dread sunk in her chest. No, this can't be it. I still had so much I wanted to do.

I was such a fool.

She thought of her family, and her final argument with Ianeira. I'm sorry. I should have listened. She pursed her lips as she fought back tears. If this is the end, I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you all. I wish I could change it. I wish I could see you again.

Then, suddenly, there was something bright that stood out against the void before her, a long, long ways away. It seemed to call to her in the distance with its brilliant white light. With nothing else to do and no answers to her questions, Dynamene ran toward it. Her feet splashed through the black water, droplets lit by the faint glow emanating from her being.

She stopped, breathless, after what might have been a few seconds or a few hours. The something had taken on the shape of a person, a bit taller than her, and with their back largely turned to her. Dynamene stepped forward cautiously, allowing their features to come into focus.

It was him, standing there before her in the black. His body emitted an eerie white glow, just like hers. She stood in bewilderment for several moments. She could only see the edge of his cheek with the way he was turned, no other part of his face. Dynamene was at a loss. "Why are you here?"

There was no answer. He didn't even move. Was he really there? Was it just a figment of her wounded body's imagination? She curled her fingers uncertainly as she considered reaching out to see if she was merely hallucinating.

Then his face tilted slightly towards her, making it clear he had heard her. Still, he refused to show himself to her entirely, and Dynamene's eyes widened. There was something in the bowed angle of his head...

Are you ashamed?

As if trying to dispel the notion, he finally stepped to face her completely. His colors looked washed out in the white glow, while the faint shadows traced the edges of his face. It seemed he was at last in a place every bit as fittingly ethereal as he was. But he continued to remain silent, and Dynamene's gaze shifted away in frustration.

"You're the one who brought me here. So why have you come now?" She couldn't veil the accusation in her voice. "I tried to tell you. But you didn't stop. You killed me."

Here in this endless vacuum of existence, Poseidon held no power over her. She was already on death's door, that much seemed certain. He couldn't harm her now. Dynamene was free to speak her mind completely. "Why didn't you believe me? Did you call me to your room just to kill me?" There was more bite to her tone now. "Was my love only a burden to you?" Her accusations echoed across the space.

His gaze finally flickered to meet hers. She felt no joy from it, only a strange sensation of tired defeat. Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I'm going to disappear forever now, aren't I?" She twisted her peplos with guilty hands. "And I... I brought it on myself. I didn't listen to my family. I didn't see... I didn't understand. They'd warned me."

Nothing in his somber expression changed, but the shadows had deepened across his face. He took a single step closer to her, and she looked up at him with a miserable expression. Then he lifted one hand to clasp over hers, stilling her worried fidgeting. "I didn't mean to bring you here, Dynamene."

Her lower lip trembled, and she had to look away as he continued. "I thought you were a fake sent to replace the real you. I thought someone might've abducted you. I couldn't hear your heartbeat; your appearance had changed; I sensed strange magic about you."

So you didn't mean to hurt me, yet... "So your first response was to maim?" Dynamene pulled her hands away. "You would've lost the only chance to find me if your theory had been true."

"I-" Poseidon's words came to a stop mid-breath. It was the first time she'd ever heard him halt in the midst of a sentence. She turned her eyes back to him in confusion. He looked at war with himself; what was it that he'd meant to say? He took a moment to settle on a fitting response as his expression smoothed back out into stoicism. "I allowed my rage to get the better of me."

Her mouth nearly fell open. Poseidon was admitting fault. He had just, before a mere Nereid, confessed that his emotions had got the better of him.

Emotions spurred on by the thought that she might've been harmed.

She looked away as she absorbed this. The little motes of dust had returned, flickering gently in their light. They danced in little waves, fading in and out of sight. Poseidon had gone against the appearance he fought so hard to maintain for her. He cared about her. His heart had thawed at last, just as she'd wanted.

But there was no change within her heart except something bittersweet that ached. Her bleak expression remained as she looked up at him.

"Do you not forgive me?" He asked in a hushed voice. A vulnerability she didn't recognize had crept into his words.

Dynamene pursed her lips, thinking desperately about how to respond. Do I forgive you?

I... I think I do.

I do forgive you, but it doesn't change the way I feel right now.

That terror I experienced, that agonizing pain... You say you didn't mean to inflict it on me.

But how many countless others have you taken in the same way, with no regret? Your own brother, the Titans... People who have wronged you. People who would do you harm. And people who you perceived to have slighted you. Now I finally understand it all.

You did them the same harm, and you didn't feel anything.

"I forgive you," she whispered, but the words were meaningless. This wasn't about forgiveness. Something nameless had changed beneath the current.

He lifted his hand to gently smooth back her unruly bangs. His dark eyes drank in her face, even as she remained largely unaffected by his gesture. The girlish infatuation of before was completely extinguished. Now disappointment prevailed in her eyes.

But regardless, his feelings were unchanged. Now, for the very first time, they were truly alone. He finally admitted his desire for her to himself, even though he still didn't understand it. And as he leaned down closer to her, his eyes closed for the first time as he allowed himself to become immersed in his emotions.

And despite her disillusionment and sorrow, she loved him yet. A man of ice who had thawed only for her. Allowing him to enfold her in his embrace, her lips met his.

Two beings of light, entwined in the dark.

---

Dynamene gasped, a ragged, excruciating sound. Poseidon drew back in shock, staring down at her with sharp eyes. She coughed violently, wracking her thin body with the effort. Poseidon quickly lifted her shoulders to help clear her airway. Lifewater dripped from her lips, tainted red with his own blood. It was then that he understood what had happened. Before, when he had bit his lips in anger...

His blood was reviving her. Poseidon immediately bit his lip again and kissed her once more, pushing his blood into her. He forced several breaths of air into her, desperately willing her to keep breathing, before moving back to monitor the effect.

The flesh around her wounds had stopped disintegrating, though they were not healing. She gave another gasp for air, then fell silent.

He wasn't going to give up. He removed one glove and tore through the skin of his finger with his teeth. The gash began to drip blood, and he held it above her open mouth. As drop by drop ran down her throat, she began to move once more. He squeezed his hand, willing the blood to run faster, to hurry her revival.

After many agonizing seconds, Dynamene's eyelids twitched. Her bleary eyes opened slowly and focused on him. The sound of dripping lifewater stopped.

Poseidon exhaled. He rebandaged her chest, pulled her back into his arms, and stood. She was healing. She would live. Now to get out of this forsaken place and back to the palace. She would need more medical care as soon as possible.

Dynamene's eyes remained open, but she said nothing. Even if she had wanted to, her body wouldn't have been able. Her drowsy gaze didn't leave his face once. Something was ending now, but for however long as they had, she just wanted to drink him in. Poseidon... Her Poseidon. Just hours ago, this would have been a dream come true. Now, where had that exhilarated part of her gone? Had it remained behind in the blackness of that silent space? Had their conversation even taken place, or was it just a feverish dream?

What's changed?

No, I don't need to ask. I know.

Just let me enjoy this while it lasts. While I can still see you so close like this, and be in your arms, without any regrets.

She allowed her sore body to rest limply against his, and despite the speed at which he moved through the water to bring them home, her gaze never wavered.

---

We're going to the end now. I can't believe it. This is my longest fanfiction ever. I've gotten to know Dynamene so well. I don't think she'll leave my mind, even after the fic is finished.

I spent the most time on this chapter because I had a very specific mood for it in mind that required a lot of editing and re-writing. I let it sit for a few days before going back and putting more meat into the gaps. That's how I prefer to write - get the important stuff out first, and garnish with detail later.

There was this song by Kaskade that I thought about a lot with this chapter. It's called Borrowed Theme. Maybe I should've titled this chapter that, but that feels a little childish. The title kind of references a different song, anyway lol

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x oc #fanfiction

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purpletaecup · 5 years ago

Photo

6 ☾ these echoes of laughter fade into a distant memory

note: fully written chapter again this time, with social media half chapters coming later this week! this chapter is mainly Yoongi and we see a little bit of his side and how he felt in the past and how he feels in the present. not edited, wanted to post this before the concert so we can all cry together!

rlly important note: i suggest you guys listen to nineteen by hayley williams because i basically base this whole story off that song (and some chinese webnovels i read lmfao). It’s one of my favorite songs ever and it hurts a whole lot. I wish i could experience how I felt when I listened to it for the first time again. As always, feel free to vent/rant and tell me your theories about how the story is going to go! let’s cry together :’)

final note: IM SORRYYY FOR THISSSS don’t hate me pleaseee

word count: 2,523

That night, Yoongi slept in your hospital room. The emotional weight of everything that had happened had kept him nailed to the chair beside your bed. The smell of the air after the rain permeated into the room and reminded him of the day that his lawyer delivered the divorce papers to you, who was alone at home and probably waiting for him. Looking back at it, maybe it was an impulse decision that he made due to the frustration and exhaustion that your marriage caused him. He grew weary and waking up in the morning felt like a chore. You were distant, he was distant and both of you were living lives going in different directions. But you loved each other, and for a while, he thought that could be enough. Evidently, it wasn’t. He doesn’t regret the divorce because in the end, he thought he was doing what was best for the both of you. He knew how tired you were and how you felt being around the people in his life. He felt the same way with the people in yours. Everything about your lives clashed and he thought that divorce was the best solution for both of you to become happy again. He wasn’t getting any younger, but you were still very young and you could still find someone who could love and cherish you better than he could.

He didn’t regret it.

He didn’t.

Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t regret it. But remembering how you looked when he came home that night breaks his heart to pieces. Your pale and shivering figure crying by the front door and the way your trembling hands shook him off when he tried to help you up. It was a sight that would remain ingrained in his mind and his heart forever. When you two finally made it inside your house to sit on the couch, he fully expected you to shout and scream and throw a tantrum about the divorce papers. He did not expect the quiet sobs that wracked your figure, or the broken “why are you doing this?” and finally the resignation in your voice when you told him you’d sign it. He remembered, at that moment, that he began crying too. He walked over and sat next to you and took you in his arms like you were his whole world even though he knew he had just ruined yours. With his head buried in your damp hair and neck, he whispered a million apologies. Sorry for breaking your heart. Sorry for wasting your time. Sorry for not knowing how to love you properly. Sorry for not trying.

These apologies meant nothing to you. They were nothing compared to the pain you had endured to be with him, to love him. He didn’t know that. For the last months of your relationship, he didn’t know who you were and that’s what pushed him to get the divorce. You were a shell of the woman you were when you two first met. Your smile didn’t make butterflies appear in his stomach anymore and your laugh didn’t make his heart flutter like it used to. It wasn’t the same anymore. You were both different people, changed people.

In the midst of this change, he was introduced to Yura by Jungkook. A model he worked with a couple times and a really nice woman. Beautiful, even. Almost as beautiful as you, he had thought when he first met her. Jungkook pushed and pushed for him to hang out with them and the rest of the guys and the more he saw Yura, the more he talked to her, the more he began to like her. She reminded him of you when he first met you.

You were 19 and he was 23 and you were modeling at the same set he was supposed to shoot at an hour later. He came early to help the staff prepare for his music video shoot and hopefully talk to the director but he had ended up watching your shoot for most of the time until it was his turn for the set. The people around you liked to say that Yoongi fell in love with you at first sight. He often refuted that it wasn’t at first sight because he wasn’t the type of person to fall in love because of how someone looks. In private, he told you that he fell in love with you at first smile, first laugh. The sight of you laughing genuinely in the middle of hydrangeas and baby’s-breath enchanted him so much that he remained rooted to the floor for the remainder of your shoot.

The laughs and the smiles were Yoongi’s favorite. You were the most beautiful person he’d ever met. You are still the most beautiful he’d ever met, but perhaps it was the exhaustion of life that wore the both of you down. What had started as a beautiful, youthful romance filled with picnics in meadows had ended with divorce papers on a rainy day in September.

These are the thoughts that followed Yoongi to sleep that night.

☾

[nov. 10, 2020]

The same thoughts haunted him day in and day out ever since he left that next morning at the insistence of Jungkook and Taehyung. He spent 4 days on his own, working and living his life but only on the surface. Conservations with people, including his friends, remained minimal. He couldn’t stop thinking about your broken and bruised body laying in the hospital bed, and he was anxious for the news of you waking up but none had come. He received no calls from the hospital since he left, and Taehyung said that visiting was meaningless unless the doctor told him new information.

Yura told him, verbatim, “I understand that you’re worried about her safety, but the doctors said she would be fine. She’s your ex-wife, I get it, but she’s not your responsibility anymore.”

In a way, she was right. But he couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought of leaving you all alone there. He knew it was hard for Jin to come out because he was incredibly busy with work, and when he wasn’t traveling for his job, he lived too far from both of you to ever accompany you in the way that you needed. In addition to that, he had no idea what happened to you and your mom. The last he heard, which was when you were still married, you were on speaking terms with her and there wasn’t a problem between the two of you. At least not that he knew of. Namjoon was on a book tour and Jimin was constantly booked due to his dance career. In any case, you had no one here. Yoongi was all you had and that was evident in your unchanged emergency contact list.

After Yura had said that, he felt uneasy being around her so he told her that he truthfully couldn’t stand to just move on with his life while you were practically lifeless in the hospital, and if that was a problem with her then maybe they should just take a break from each other. He kept telling himself that he really liked Yura and he wanted what she could give him, but he couldn’t ignore the four years that you two spent building a life together. Especially not now that you were pregnant, a fact that he had kept hidden from Yura.

When he thought about the pregnancy, everything else seemed to melt away. Despite the circumstances, the news of your pregnancy made him happy. Extremely so, albeit a little scared as well. He wondered how long you had known, and if you were happy or scared.Or what if you didn’t know at all? As far as he could tell, you weren’t showing. There was no sign of a bump on your little belly, but the doctor’s words were irrefutable. There was a baby growing in there. A baby that was half you and half him and that thought of that made him smile like he hadn’t in a long, long time.

That night, he dreamt about a little girl with your eyes and your smile and a nose that resembled his. A laughter that reminded him of yours echoed in those dreams.

☾

[nov. 11, 2020]

Pleasant dreams faded into a pleasant morning as Yoongi woke up much earlier than he was used to and felt better than he had in ages. He spent some time by himself before his phone was bombarded by phone calls and text messages from the group chat with the boys asking him when he was coming for work.

As he saw the sun take its place in the blue skies and white clouds, he decided that the day was too beautiful to waste on a day in the company. 5 days passed since your accident and he thought it was time to go back to the hospital and see how you were doing. Of course he wasn’t expecting any changes to your condition considering he hasn’t gotten any phone calls from the hospital yet, but he thought it might make him feel more at ease to sit next to you.

On his way to the hospital, he stopped by the flower shop you often went to, the one next to the park with the yellow flowers that you liked so much. The woman at the front, whose name was Yerin by the looks of her nametag, recognizes you immediately.

“Mr. Min Yoongi? How can we help you today?” She asks, immediately standing up straight at your intimidating presence.

“Just here to get some flowers.” He replies nonchalantly.

Yerin runs around the counter to stand in front of him.

“Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“No, not really—wait a second, that flower right there. Give me a bouquet of those.” He says, pointing to the bunches of purple flowers hiding behind Yerin.

She turns to see what he was pointing to. “Ah, purple lilacs. Okay, I’ll put it together for you really quick!”

He saw her go around the many shelves of flowers to what he assumed was the back inventory of the shop and didn’t see her come out until a couple of minutes later. In her hands was a beautiful bouquet of the purple lilacs with white baby's-breath. His eyes softened at the sight of the white flowers. The sight was familiar to him.

“That would be 25,830 won.” Yerin handed the bouquet to him and smiled.

He handed her 35,000 won, murmured his thanks and left. Once out of the shop, he was hit by the bright sunlight and couldn’t help looking over to the park. Kids were running around while their parents watched them on picnic blankets.

Warm and sunny days like this reminded him of you. Spending your days in the sun, laying on a picnic blanket and eating fruits, was your very existence.

He spends only a few moments admiring the scenery of people enjoying the weather before he makes his way back to his car and to the hospital. When he arrives at your room, nothing has changed except for the fact that your skin has regained a bit of its color and the bruises began the healing process.

Yoongi sets the flowers down on the table beside your bed. He moves the chair from the wall to the side of the bed so he could sit right next to you. His heart almost stops when he sees your face. It seems like the nurses changed the bandage on your head as the bandaging was noticeably lighter, but he could still see a bit of blood seeping through. The bruises on your arms and everywhere alarm him but he knows that you’re okay and you’re healing and that’s enough for him. It’s enough to know that you were alive and going to be fine.

His eyes trail down to your stomach and he lets it linger on them for a long time because he takes your hand in his and takes a deep breath. Two months ago he could have never imagined that this is where he would be right now. Two months ago, both of you had walked away from your marriage and Yoongi honestly thought that you two may never have crossed paths again despite his thoughts going to you more often than it should be. Now, two months later, you were divorced and pregnant with his child. His eyes continue to stare at your stomach, still flat and showing no signs of carrying a second life, and he resists the urge to caress it. You weren’t conscious and even if you were, would you allow your ex-husband to feel your stomach like that? No, probably not.

And that’s when he felt a twitch in his hand, not coming from his own. He looks down to see your fingers moving just barely. His first reaction was shock, then anxiety. He didn’t know what to do and the shock of your movement paralyzed him. It was only when he felt another movement, stronger this time, that he felt the need to press the call button to alarm the doctors and nurses. You were moving, which meant that you might be waking up.

The moments pass quickly and slowly at the same time. The doctors barely made it in time to see you flutter your eyes open and groan with a broken voice. Yoongi looked down at you, still holding your hand. You blinked your eyes multiple times. The light was too bright to take in all at once. He squeezed your hand at the relief he felt in seeing you wake up.

“Yn, how are you feeling baby?” He couldn’t help the pet name that came out of his mouth. You looked so vulnerable and fragile that it came out on instinct.

Yoongi waited for a reply for a little bit but heard none. The doctor came around to stand next to you.

“Miss Yn? Can you see us? Hear us?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, wincing at the pain in and on your head.

“Where m’I?” You attempt to speak out, but it comes out broken and croaky.

Yoongi is glad to hear your voice, to hear you talk for the first time in so long.

“You’re in the hospital right now, you were in a car accident but you’re okay now baby. How are you feeling?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You craned your head towards him, blinking furiously with your eyebrows furrowed. Confusion marred your features. Yoongi was scared that you finally realized he was here, with you, and would kick him out at any chance. He was scared that you were going to kick him out of you life before he could ever see the baby that you had made together, but this fear of his could have never prepared him for the next words to come out of your mouth.

“Who are you?”

☾

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julieloveupstead · 4 years ago

Text

"I'm Never Leave You" - Upstead

CHAPTER 3

Hailey when she got to the district with Kevin did her best to keep herself occupied with something, so she wouldn't have to think about the meeting with Voight that was bound to happen, after all, you can't hide from you forever. She was grateful to Jay that he knew she wasn't ready at that moment and that she needed to occupy her thoughts with something, she needed to be busy, so she did. She sat in the Wire Room and looked through files of similar cases, but she couldn't focus on anything in the world. Furthermore, she kept the events of the last few hours in front of her eyes and even though she knew it was all meaningless now, she couldn't help wondering if things would have ended differently if Voight hadn't split her up with Jay after Adam and Kevin's argument. When Voight decided for her to go with him and Adam, without Jay, she felt a strange pressure in her stomach as if she expected something bad might have happened and if only she had listened to her instincts. Damn, why did it all seem so logical now, as if the flaps had fallen from her eyes, and now she could see more clearly. From the very beginning, Voight has been manipulating her and taking advantage of how she was treated by her own father. Did he treat Erin the same way? Was that the reason she left? Was everything that happened with Al those few years ago because of Voight? What about Antonio, was he manipulated by Voight too? What about Jay? Hailey has felt like she's in some kind of matrix ever since this happened, which has given her a headache.

- Goldilocks, what are you doing here? - She was pulled out of her thoughts by the voice of the Desk Sergeant.

- How is Serge? - Hailey asked, trying to keep her tone of voice normal.

- I could ask you the same thing. - The older woman sat down opposite Hailey and watched her carefully.

- I do not know what you are talking about, Trudy. I am doing my job, after all. - She really tried for an ordinary tone, and to confirm her words Hailey started to hit the keys, but for some reason her hands started to shake.

- Hailey, I've known you for a long time and I know that when something happens you run off to work, and you've been staring at the same page on the computer for 30 minutes. - Sergeant Pratt said with her usual omniscient tone. - Hailey, you're hiding it well, but I've got eyes. You've been acting strangely for the past few weeks. Your lover boy, too.

- How do you know? Since when did you know? - she looked surprised at the Sergeant, who was looking at her with satisfaction written all over her face. She was panicked because if Platt had guessed, then the rest of them probably already knew too. Damn. This wasn't how she wanted her friends to find out.

- I suspected right from the start, even when you were blindsided. Those looks in your eyes, the way you lost your head when Jay went missing those two years ago, Jay walking around like a kicked puppy left out in the rain when you left, and that horrified look on Jay's face when you got that package from the Feds. Luckily, you guys wised up, because it was really sad looking at you. - Seeing Hailey's surprised look, Trudy started to explain as if Jay and her were the most obvious thing in the world. - But rest assured, I only had confirmation when I saw you two at Kim's hospital last night. Jay was watching over you, more than an eye in your head. And the way he took you in his arms, if I had tears in my eyes I would cry - she finished ironically.

Hailey remembered as if through a haze what happened after she got home from what happened in that warehouse, and the hospital stay completely like a black hole.

- Listen carefully because I'm going to say this once and if anyone asks I'm going to deny everything, okay? - Hailey nodded, holding back a laugh. Because maybe knowing that someone knew about them was scary, the fact that the first person was Trudy wasn't so scary. Even Hailey had to admit to herself that she even enjoyed it a lot. The Sergeant had always been an authority figure to her. Thanks to her, she had become a police officer and whenever she had a confusion in her head Trudy appeared and everything seemed to make sense. Once, she even caught herself thinking that she would like to have a mother like Trudy, who is strong and doesn't allow herself to be blown away. She obviously loves her mother, but her relationship with her is complicated. The older woman has really been a bit like a mother to her, and therefore the fact that she knows about one of the most important things in her life is not even that scary.

- I don't know anyone who is more deserving of such love and happiness as the two of you.

- Thank you, Trudy - as if out of nowhere, they heard Jay's voice. Hailey turned and saw Jay leaning against the door frame watching them with a big smile. The blonde couldn't help but return the smile. How grateful she felt for her boyfriend and for the older woman who looked at them with pride was beyond description. Her family relationships were complicated and difficult to understand, even though she loved her mum, dad and brothers in their own way she had never felt so happy, loved as by this family she now had before her.

Jay walked over to Hailey and kissed the top of her head, making her cheeks redden, knowing that this time they were not alone in the room.

- Alright kids I'll leave you to it because it's getting too nice, and that doesn't bode well for my reputation for being stern and cold,' the Desk Sergeant stood up proudly and winked at both of them, to which the pair laughed. She stopped still at the door and turned to her charges. - If you want to talk about what happened in the evening you found Kim, because I know something happened, you know where to find me. - And with that she left the room.

- How does she know that? - asked a stunned Hailey, looking with wide eyes at the spot where the Sergeant had been standing just a moment ago.

- 'I don't know. She's Trudy Platt, after all, it's her job to know everything. - He shrugged his shoulders, stepping closer to his girlfriend. - Hey, don't worry, Platt won't say anything to anyone. - He assured, knowing that Hailey wasn't ready to go public with their relationship yet.

- I know, it's not about that. - She shook her head. Jay squatted down and waited for her to continue. He could see that Hailey was trying to find the right words, so he caught her hands with his, her palms, and used his thumbs to draw near indeterminate patterns to support her. - How does she know... Mmmm. Damn. - She snorted in exasperation.

- I mean, how does he know something happened then. - She mouthed so quietly that Jay, crouching close to her, had to really strain to hear what she was saying.

- Hey, Hailey, maybe the Sergeant didn't mean what happened in that warehouse - Jay immediately guessed what his girlfriend meant and lowered his voice, so no unwanted ears would hear. - Hey, take it easy, Honey. No one is going to find out about anything. I'm not gonna let Voight drag you down with him. You didn't do anything wrong, remember that, okay? - Hailey just nodded her head without conviction.

- Did you find out anything? - Changed the subject, Hailey, backing away from Jay. She knew she was acting out of character with her partner, but she needed something to occupy her head. The realization that someone might know something about what happened with Ray scared her more than the fact that they might know something about their relationship. She was afraid that Voight would plunge her down with himself and thus lose the two most important things in her life, Jay and her job, and without them, she didn't exist.

- Am. Nothing concrete. Serge gave me this temporary command - as usual, he understood her perfectly and knows exactly what she needs.

- So he will not be here today? - she asked close to tears and hope.

- Yes, you won't see him today - he said, and it didn't escape his notice that Hailey relaxed at once on this news.

- Christ, Jay, what are we going to do next? - she asked, close to tears again.

- Hailey,...

- I can't avoid him forever, they will find out sooner or later. - Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. When Jay wanted to grab Hailey's hands again, she broke free and stood up violently, thus pushing the man away. - I'm going to lose my job, do you understand? So many efforts, so many sleepless nights, so many sacrifices. So much to prove that I deserve to be a policewoman, to be here in this place - Hailey was already in hysterics, he had no control over what he was saying and thinking. Images of the warehouse where Roy was killed kept flying through his head and in front of his eyes. - Damn it, my father was right. I don't deserve anything. - and after those words, she ran out.

She had to get out of there, she couldn't stand to be around Jay any longer. She knew he wanted to help her, and she appreciated every second, every little bit of support she got from him, but she felt that if she stayed in that room a moment longer she would explode and do something she would regret. When she got to the bathroom she checked to make sure no one was inside and when she was sure she was alone she closed the door and let herself cry. She wanted it all to be over and back to normal. She didn't want to be afraid to come to work, didn't want her to have a panic attack every time she heard the Sergeant's name and voice. She wanted a normal life, with Jay.

Jay was concerned about the state Hailey was in, but he knew she needed to be alone right now to control her emotions, even though he was twisting to run after her and hold her in his arms and never let her go.

- Jay, we found something - Kevin appeared out of nowhere in the room.

- 'Okay, I'll be right up. - Jay wiped his face with his hand and looked at his friend. The detective hoped Kevin wouldn't see the tears that had come to Jay's eyes after Hailey had run out in despair, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

- Are you okay? - asked a worried Kev as he spotted his friend arriving.

- Mmm, yes - Jay tried to sound composed and confident. - What did you find? - he tried to focus on the case.

- Emmm - Kevin, concerned for his friend, had forgotten what he had come for, and it took him a moment to remember. - And that I found some similar cases, but I'll tell you all about it upstairs. And one more thing, Adam showed up, and so I led him into the case. - Kevin explained. Jay, who was walking next to him, just nodded his head.

Jay was unable to say anything, the only thing he could think about right now was Hailey. Where had she gone? Is she safe? Won't she do something to herself? Jay once again promised himself that if he saw Voight again today, he wouldn't be so nice this time. But he hoped he wouldn't see his Sergeant's face again today, at least.

When he and Kevin Jay entered the bullpen he didn't see Hailey anywhere and that seriously worried him, but while he felt like running immediately and looking for her, he had to take care of business now, and besides he felt that Hailey wanted to be alone right now.

- 'Okay gentlemen, what have you got? - he got straight to the point.

- Two bodies were found at the scene, one of which we've already identified. It's a Nathan Robertson. He's got a record. He did 3 years for battery, he's also got convictions for possession and drug dealing. He got out 3 months ago - Adam on the board showed a photo of the man in question - He was 25 years old. I called his family, but neither his mother nor father had been in contact with him for 2 years. - He continued. He looked for a moment for something in his briefcase, took out a piece of paper, and handed it to Jay. It was an abbreviated copy of the information he was now giving out loud. - As for the other, we still don't know who he is. We suspect he either has no record or is not from Chicago. Trudy is still looking in the missing person's database, maybe we can find something there,' Kevin added. Jay nodded, assimilating the information.

- 'Okay, so when did the shooting happen? Do we have any witnesses? Any word from the coroner yet? - Jay asked his colleagues.

- Neighbours heard two shots at 7am, which the coroner confirmed, but neither of them reported it, as they say it was none of their business, and they didn't want to get hit for reporting a crime. - People's disinterest kills police officers. If people weren't so afraid, if they weren't so indifferent to what was going on around them, this world would look completely different.

- As you can guess, there were not many witnesses. The only thing we know is that the day before, someone was hanging around this house. I haven't established the owners of the house yet. - Kevin said.

- I found similar 6 attacks in New York and 4 in Los Angeles. A year ago, LAPD arrested a man named Peter Allende. - He handed the tablet to Jay.

- And they connected these attacks to New York? - spoke up Hailey, who had now joined them imperceptibly. Jay looked at her carefully. It was obvious she had been crying, but she had put on a mask of professionalism, but Jay knew her too well and knew that these were just appearances in front of people not to ask questions.

It was tempting for the brunet to pull her close and hug her tightly, but they had work to do, and besides, one look was all it took for him to know that for a small moment Hailey wanted to feel normal and not think about what had happened. Jay respected that.

Hailey tried to pull herself together to focus on what was most important at the moment, which was the double murder case. And that was the only reason she was able to stand in front of her two colleagues and her boyfriend right now. She directed all the strength she still had in her to track down the criminal while she still had a chance, because there was no telling how long she would be a police officer. So she turned off every other thought, cut off everything that would distract her, and focused on this one task.

- No. Because, unlike the LA attacks, it involved one man with his nephew (who committed suicide, by the way, a few months after he was arrested), they attacked poor people's flats, and, most importantly, guns. Allende strangled the victims. - Kevin explained.

- So what's the connection to the NY case, LA and ours? - wondered Jay - Oh right this - for a moment Kevin clicked something on his tablet, then surrendered it to the detective.

Jay looked at three pictures of a packet of drugs with a flower stamp drawn on them, each flower was a different color, and then handed it to Hailey.

- The same marks on the drugs? - Jay remarked, and Kevin nodded in confirmation.

- Why didn't the LAPD pay attention to this earlier? Why didn't they connect it to those robberies in New York? - Asked Hailey, handing the tablet back to Atwater.

- Did you talk to Homicide? - Adam asked Jay.

- Yeah, but I didn't find out much. At this point, it was kind of the first attack in the Chicago area. - replied Jay, scratching the back of his neck.

- What about Voight? - Kev asked. Jay instinctively cast a worried glance at Hailey standing next to him. Hailey didn't let anyone notice her nervous swallowing of saliva and clenching of her hands into fists, but she knew that no matter how hard she tried, Jay would always notice any even minimal change in her behavior.

However, Hailey had promised herself that she wouldn't lose her cool again, at least not here at work, not in front of people, so she ignored Jay's worried look.

She can't let something like 30 minutes ago happen again.

- I don't know - the brunet shrugged his shoulders. - He gave me temporary command of the case. - Hailey looked at Jay surprised by the words, although earlier in the wire room he had already told her about it. - We're supposed to be working with Homicide, Sergeant Smith should be here any minute, with his men. - He said looking at his watch and as if on cue Trudy appeared, followed by two men.

- Detective Halstead, this is Sergeant Smith and Officer Wilson. - The Desk Sergeant introduced the guests. Jay nodded to her in acknowledgement and she left.

- 'Hello Sergeant. These are my colleagues, Officer Ruzek and Officer Atwater - he introduced - And this is my partner Detective Upton - he pointed to Hailey.

After introductions and a few kind words, the whole team moved on to the case.

- So to sum it up, Kevin said, "Two young guys decided to have some fun, so they got into possession of drugs, then someone came in and shot them. That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?

- I think so too," said the still silent Hailey. - I'm just wondering where the drugs came from in that house, in New York and in Los Angeles.

- And why didn't LAPD link this to the New York case? - Jay added - Okay, we need to find out who the owner of this house is and identify the other boy, Adam will take care of that? - the man in question nodded and immediately started following instructions.

- Kevin if you could see if there are any amphetamines with that tag on them before and ask your CI if they know anything. I mean everything: about new dealers on the market, by the way, you know what I mean. - Jay told Kevin, who also rightly got to work. - 'Mr Sergeant and Officer Wilson, I'd like you to bring me all the files on fatal burglaries from the last two maybe three months,' he addressed Sergeant Smith and his colleague.

Hailey had a strange feeling that this Wilson was looking suspiciously too long at Jay, not that she was too jealous or anything, just a small remark like that.

- 'And Hailey and I will take care of talking to the NYPD and LAPD, okay? - Jay calmly said to the blonde.

- Okay, so what, I'm New York, and you're Los Angeles? - she allowed herself a little joke as the Homicide cops walked away.

- I don't know. - He pretended to think about it as he approached Hailey. - Don't you think it's too risky? - He scratched his chin, picking up on her game. Maybe they need at least a break from all this for a while.

- And why is that? - Hailey also approached Jay and asked in an innocent voice.

- They'll remember you and try to take you away from me again. - He turned around, checking that no one was around, and then touched his hand to Hailey's cheek, who closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to back off because they were at work after all, but when she felt him touch her, she gave in to it.

Every time Jay touched her, all that other stuff stopped mattering, the only thing that mattered was that they were together, and the rest didn't matter.

- Hailey, look at me please - she slowly opened her eyes and was met with a loving and tender look that she always has reserved only for her and from which her heart beats 100 times more, he put his other hand on my other cheek. - I can't lose you anymore, Angel.

- Jay... - She wanted to interrupt him, but to poor effect.

- I love you so damn much - in Jay's eyes, Hailey noticed tears and panicky fear.

- And I love you, Jay - she whispered, watching her boyfriend vigilantly.

- 'Promise me that if it gets hard, that you feel it's too much, you'll tell me right away, okay?

- Mhmm, okay - Hailey didn't quite understand what Jay meant and wasn't sure if she would be able to tell him everything every time. She still has a lot of fear inside her, boundaries that she doesn't want to, and is actually afraid to reach with her thoughts, let alone say them. Even to him, the man she trusts most in the world. The biggest barrier he is afraid to cross is that if he knows everything about her, he will conclude that it wasn't worth fighting for and leave.

- I'm not going anywhere, I will never, ever leave you. - Jay as usual acts like he's reading her mind. - We'll deal with everything, sweetheart, I promise. - He pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Hailey knew they shouldn't be cuddling in the middle of the bullpen and maybe someone would come and see them soon, but she needed this. She needed those words, his touch and the sound of his heart. She needed him, and it hits her harder every time. The fact that this man loves her so much after what he has learned about her is something extraordinary.

When she put her arms around him tightly and heard his heartbeat, she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out. She drew that soothing scent of Jay that she associates with safety and love into her lungs and didn't want her to ever forget it. For the first time since crossing the threshold of this building, she could breathe freely.

She really hadn't expected how much she needed it and how much she needed the words that had just come out of Jay's mouth. Every time, she marvels at how Jay is able to read her mind and without any words knows what she needs. Maybe soul mates actually exist and Jay is hers, and she is his?

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She pulled away from him slightly, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- I won't be so easily persuaded to change my mind, and besides, I'll be talking to the NYPD, not the FBI after all - Hailey remarked. Jay, still, kissed her on the top of her head and moved away from her.

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She moved slightly away from him, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- Jay? - Hailey turned to look at Jay for a moment more before dialing a number. - I love you so damn much too. - She whispered so no one else could hear, but loud enough that Jay wouldn't have a problem with it.

Hailey felt that whatever got in their way whether it was Voight or her fears or whatever fate put in front of them, they would make it because they have each other, and they love each other very much.

Because Jay and Hailey are soul mates.

Because Jay is Hailey's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of her life.

Because Hailey is Jay's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of his life.

#Upstead #upstead fanfiction #upstead fic #jay x hailey #jay halstead #hailey upton

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