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renxamamiya · 4 years

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The Sins of Your Mistakes Weigh Heavily On My Soul

A03 Link Here

My half of a tradefic with @wildcard-rumi. This is based on my Theatre of Mirrors AU and her Takuto is Ren's Dad AU, specifically on her 'Buried Memories' series.

Go have a read of her AU, it's amazing and I love it. As for people waiting for Theatre of Mirrors don't worry, I've been busy/exhausted with other personal projects and life that I haven't really got the time/motivation to write it. But I will hopefully put something out before March!

Sumire: Hello, Dr. Maruki-San Sumire: Can you come to Leblanc today? There’s something we need your help with. Sumire: It’s about Ren.

---

Takuto stared at Sumire’s message on his phone, his fingers awkwardly tapping against the hardwood that made the Leblanc counter. It had been a while since he’d met the rest of the thieves; more than a year had passed since he’d tried to force a false reality to the whole of humanity, one where there was no concept of pain, only placid happiness in which the wildest dreams had come true. It came with a price: the stagnation of humanity, one where no one had to struggle, had to fight for what they wanted. He did it out of kindness, of course; to save everyone from the pain he experienced, from the pain his son had to endure... Looking back upon his mistake, he found it ironic that his sole reason to plunge humanity in a reality of ignorant bliss was the one who unravelled his plans at the seams.

It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t have his share of anguish, yet Takuto was too aware he had condemned his son to nothing but suffering. A clumsy night in the early hours during his time in college, Ren having to grow up without a traditional, nuclear family... Him having to witness Rumi’s death, traumatized, only then to have his memories wiped... Takuto still found the memory of Ren in the hospital room hard to swallow, the time where he’d used his Persona’s powers to alter reality, to make him happy. Reflecting upon it with his changed heart, he now realised that his good intentions would have led humanity into a Hellish existence; though he didn’t regret it one bit as he wouldn’t have reunited with his son in the first place.

He nestled the cup of coffee he had close to him, taking a sip from it, savouring the complex flavours intertwined with the tangy bitterness of the roast. Sakura-san had kindly brewed a cup for him to enjoy before closing the shop temporarily for his meeting with Ren’s friends, Takuto graciously accepting the cup and paying for it, waiting anxiously for the group to arrive. A ring of the bell caught his attention, Takuto whipping his head to see Sumire’s eyes peering from the frames of her glasses. She smiled upon seeing him, rushing into the quiet cafe followed by the other thieves before giving him a quick bow, “Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” she greeted, and Takuto laughed at her extreme politeness.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yoshizawa-san,” Maruki laughed, “I’m not your teacher anymore, and I did come here because you asked, after all,”

He looked over to the rest of the group, the thieves minus Sumire sitting in the booths, their faces solemn as they looked away from his gaze. Takuto frowned; he had spotted Morgana quietly curled on Haru’s lap, the girl running her fingers in his fur absent-mindedly, looking worried at the cat with worry. Another sweep of the room with his eyes, distress welling inside him. Before Sumire could even speak, having noticed his panicked expression he asked out loud to the room: “Where’s Ren? Has something happened to him?”

“That’s... what we want to talk to you about,” Makoto said, yet she found it hard to look Takuto in the eyes. The feeling of unease between the thieves grew between them, the worried glances they exchanged only made him more anxious.

“What happened? Is he okay?” he stuttered, jumping from his seat, “Did he get into some sort of trouble? Is he in danger?” Each time he asked them the group winced, Sumire’s cheerful expression evaporated as she watched Takuto beg for any sort of information, each question curling the corners of her frown deeper on her face, “I need to know, please tell me: what is going on?”

“It’s... hard to say,” Ann replied to his plea, “It... he...”

“Ren’s gotta Palace,” Ryuji huffed, stoic at Takuto’s shocked reaction, “We’ve been infiltration’ it for some time now,”

“He has a Palace?!” Takuto’s eyes widened, shocked at this revelation, “W-when did he get one? Does that mean that world... the Metaverse came back? How-”

“We don’t know,” Makoto tried her best in answering him, her voice understanding at his floundering confusion, “We don’t know when the Palace had been formed, but when it did fully form it brought back the Metaverse with it,”

“And Mementos too,” Futaba added, “The whole thing, and his Shadow has been manipulating it too for his own goals,”

“Just like...” Takuto swallowed, still bewildered at this newfound knowledge, “But why? Do any of you know?”

“He has mentioned a performance of some kind,” Yusuke said, “One ‘of a lifetime’, it isn’t wrong to suspect his plans with Mementos had something to do with it,”

“Have you noticed something with the public, Maruki-san?” Haru asked him, her expression curious, “We’ve been noticing ourselves the renewed interest in the Phantom Thieves out in public, even selling Phantom Thief merchandise again,”

“I... I have,” Takuto swallowed, loosening the buttons of his coat, his hands shaking in the warm air of the cafe, “I’ve heard things on the radio about the Phantom Thieves; passengers would always mention about them to me, but I always thought it was because of the anniversary of your first heist that brought interest back. Kamoshida, right?”

Ryuji and Ann cringed at the mention of Kamoshida, Takuto immediately regretting his words, “S-so anyway, where is Ren? He has a Palace, but I assume-”

“He’s trapped inside of it,” Takuto whipped his head to look at the cat, Morgana, rising from his listless nap upon Haru’s lap to talk to him, “For some reason his shadow’s keeping him in there. No idea why, but what we do know is that he’s kept at the top floor,”

“Trapped inside...” Takuto repeated under his breath, rolling the words on his tongue as he tried desperately to even comprehend the situation. Heavy silence soon fell amongst the group. Takuto bit his lip, was he the one who caused this?

Makoto cleared her throat, snapping the room back into attention “There’s a vital area of the Palace he refuses to open up for any of us, Takuto. Anyone but you, that is, according to his shadow,”

Takuto looked at her in thought, contemplating her words, they churned in his mind. He looked at the polished floor of the cafe, his lips pursed. He curled his fingers into a fist, his chest tightened, Takuto blinking the tears from his eyes as they arose.

He looked back up at the thieves, their eyes filled with hope, pleading for him to assist them in saving his son.

“Alright, I’ll go with you to his Palace; Ren’s Palace,” he said.

---

“Is this?”

Takuto gazed at the foyer before him, watching the humanoid cognitions before him, all of them chatting to and fro, paying no mind to the thieves, all of them wearing masks. Light from the scarlet day of the outside shone wonderfully through the stained-glass windows. He gazed uneasily at the statue that nestled itself between the two ascending stairs, gulping down the stress and anxiety he felt, staring at an uncharacteristically pompous statue of his son.

“The Palace is becoming more unstable with each trial we complete,” Goro informed him, Takuto still bewildered by the mere fact that he was alive, and more importantly, helping the thieves with their infiltration, “I’d advise you to keep your wits and do whatever the shadow wants you to do, we can’t risk it prematurely collapsing,”

Takuto nodded, intimidated by the former detective, barely hiding the disdain he felt towards the former councillor. He had almost condemned the entirety of reality to one of false bliss, forcing his wants onto the entirety of reality. He also understood Goro still felt bitter towards him with erasing Ren’s memories, making him suffer, the infallible leader a mess in the confrontation of his recollections, having no way to cope with any of them. Sure, he had come out on top of them, able to power through his relieved anguish of losing Rumi, of losing his father, of having to witness her...

“It certainly has seen better days,” the bespectacled man sighed. He could still see signs of grandiose and luxury in the untended chaos of the tatters and scratches that accented each curtain and carpet, as if abandoned and allowed to rot with time. A part of him still wanted to deny the sight before him, still rationalised that nothing about this was real, that his son was back in reality, that he was safe, that this was some sick prank conjured up by his friends.

All those wishful thoughts Takuto had mustered quickly dashed when he saw the figure stood before them. Waiting.

“-And remember, refer to him as Joker, not Ren,” Goro hissed in his ear, “All we can do is appease him unless... well, I don’t suppose you’d like to end up as a corpse, would you?”

“I- Thank you, Akechi-san,” Takuto gulped, nodding in acknowledgement of Goro’s warning before turning towards his son. Though they were meters apart it felt like they were looking across the maw of a canyon. With a step, and then another, Takuto walked towards his son.

“Hello, dad,”

“Hello, Joker,” Takuto responded to the shadow’s greeting, already unnerved by his eyes, no longer grey but golden. Was this a shadow his friends constantly mentioned about, the dark, repressed side of the individual? Takuto had never gotten a chance to meet such a being, the ruler of his own distortions, he was the one who sat atop of his warped heart, ruling them with a gentle hand. He had his familiar outfit on, his will of rebellion, Takuto recalling seeing it when the thieves confronted him to change his heart. Though it was the differences that unsettled him: his dapper vest shining in scarlet red, his mask, black and golden, greatly increased the eerie glow of his eyes, “You wanted to see me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to see my own father,” Joker said, words dripping with sarcasm, “It’s been a while since we last sat down and talked, I’m really starting to miss it a lot,”

“Likewise?” Takuto said cautiously, fearful of what the shadow’ll do to him if he misspoke, “I would like to spend some time catching up with you, if that is your reason for summoning me of course,”

“It was! You know me so well, father,” Joker smiled, and hand raised and the click of his fingers, a door swung open among the foyer, “Come, come with me, we have a lot to talk about I’m sure,”

---

The theatre room led him into nothing but a featureless void Takuto discovered, empty as if he was transported to another world. The Phantom Thieves, Ren’s friends, did warn him about the possible dangers that he had to face, Takuto still willing to plunge into whatever trial Ren - Joker - wanted him to face. The shadow unnerved him yes; he reasoned that anyone would be uncomfortable with the confrontation with the shadow of a loved one, their dark, inner thoughts giving shape in a distorted environment. A ‘Palace’ the thieves called it. Walking in the directionless void he hoped deeply his knowledge of the Metaverse could aid him in whatever Joker wanted him to endure. He had to save his son from himself, and this time he wasn’t going to run away from him, Takuto told himself.

“Daddy?”

Takuto’s heart jumped in his throat, him turning instinctively towards the sound of a child whimpering in the darkness. The voice was familiar, too familiar, a beacon that guided Takuto in the dark, or a lure to ensnare him into the jaws of his doom, Takuto rushing towards it with haste all the same.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

“Ren!” Takuto shouted, clambering toward the terrified child, tripping on his own feet with every other stride he took in a desperate, maddened haste to reach his crying son. He didn’t consider the possibility of the apparition of his crying son to be a trap, only instinct carried him forward until he approached the small cognition.

Grey, watery eyes full of innocence stared back at him, the small form of Ren clutching tightly onto a distinct plush of a cat. Takuto’s heart melted as he knelt to his level to address the boy, to show him that he meant no harm, the boy shying away into the fur of his toy.

“I’m here for you, Ren,” Takuto cooed, reaching out his arms towards the frightened boy. The young Ren stopped his crying. He looked at Takuto’s inviting, outstretched arms; and then at him, Takuto gave him a smile that radiated safety and love.

“Who-who are you?” from the stuttering, fearful cognition was the reaction that Takuto did not expect, his face falling in confusion, his bemusement matched with the smaller Ren that stared blankly back at him. Takuto tenderly brushed the mess of hair away from Ren’s eyes.

“I-I’m your dad,” Takuto said reassuringly, yet the cracks of his tone betrayed the melancholic feelings that welled inside of him. To see those grey eyes gaze upon him, wide and curious and with wholly innocence broke his heart, “There’s no need to be scared, Ren. I’m here now, I’ll protect you,”

Young Ren looked at him, slightly backing away from the unfamiliar, familiar man in front of him, “I... I don’t... I don’t remember, if you’re my dad I don’t remember you! I don’t-”

“Hey, calm down,” Takuto said, yet he respected the distance Ren had put between them, “It’s alright to forget sometimes, which is why we need others to help us remember,”

“I-”

“Do you trust me, Ren?” Takuto asked the frightened child. Young Ren looked at him hesitantly, clutching the stuffed toy in his arms closer against his chest. He looked down onto the floor, pausing in contemplation.

“I... Guess so,” Young Ren mumbled shyly, eyes flickering between the floor and Takuto that reminded the bespectacled man so much about Ren in his younger years. He gestured for the child to sit down in front of him, Young Ren doing so obediently, the both of them folding their legs as they sat cross-legged on the murky floor.

“Now, do you remember anything about your father?” Takuto asked, adopting a more professional persona with inquiring the boy, “Anything at all?”

“Well, I think he wears glasses,” Young Ren started, curling his small thumb and finger before holding them up to his face, peering into the holes he had made with his hands, “They’re really big on his face. He wears them a lot, and I barely see him take them off,”

“That’s good, what else do you remember?” Takuto asks, amazed at Ren’s recollection, the boy knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

“And... He had brown hair,” Ren recalled, his hands moving to his head, “Brown hair that was really long and wavy, but not too long like a girl’s. He also had brown eyes... and...”

“And?”

“He would watch Featherman with me,” Ren said, “Every Saturday, he would wake up just to watch Featherman with me. I would always ask which Featherman he liked the best a-and he would ask me who was mine, and it was-”

“Featherman Red,” Takuto finished, Young Ren’s eyes widening, “I remember. I’ve always remembered,”

“A-and,” Ren continued, his cheeks slightly flushed against his skin, “I remember whenever he came home he would always bring apples! He’s not good at cooking them, but I didn’t mind eating them anyway, because he would always bring home the really tasty ones,”

And the child continued his recollection, Takuto’s small smile that sat on his lips grew a little wider with each detail Ren managed to recall, the excitement in his eyes growing more and more, and Takuto wondered if the child was even aware of how much he recalled. Yet whenever Takuto asked for the child of his father’s name he merely blinked at Takuto.

“I don’t remember my daddy’s name,” Young Ren shook his head, his disappointment reflecting Takuto’s, “I’m trying really hard, I am!”

“I know you are,” Takuto sighed, resting a hand upon his shoulder, giving the small child a reassuring smile. Yet, as defiant as his grown-up self, Young Ren shook his hand away.

“But, there’s one name I do remember.” Young Ren mumbled under his breath. Takuto’s eyes widened, a sudden drop of water dropped upon his head. Carefully reaching over the moist patch of his hair he looked at his fingers. Nothing. He looked up. Only the black that characterized their surroundings present. He turned to look back at the boy.

“What name is it?” Takuto asked, Young Ren squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... it’s someone close to dad,” he mumbled. More droplets of phantom liquid dripped upon him, “Someone... I.... don’t remember,” The child began to panic, “I... I can’t remember it anymore. I can’t, I’m-”

“There, there,” Takuto cooed, brushing away Ren’s tears, ignoring the storming of the invisible rain on his person that only increased in ferocity, “It’s okay. Just do like what we did with your dad, okay?”

“O-okay,” Young Ren said, trying hard to salvage a mask of bravery, looking at Takuto with red, blotched eyes “I mean... I don’t have a lot of memories of her...”

“Her..?” Takuto feared he knew who the young boy was referring to, the invisible storm now pouring magnitudes onto him, unrelenting, the liquid thumping hard against his frame, his hearing starting to be muffled by the roar of rushing water, “Ren, maybe we should-”

“She had big eyes-” Young Ren began to recite, Takuto grabbing tightly onto his shoulders, his pleas for the boy to stop falling on death ears.

“-and she was smart, and nice-” Young Ren continued, oblivious to the panicking Takuto that desperately pleaded with him to stop.

It smelled. Everything smelled rancid, like something rotten, something foul, something metallic. But it was as if Ren was painfully unaware of the speckles of red splattered on his face.

“-and, and she had red hair!”

Takuto recognised the expression the young boy suddenly snapped into, grey eyes once filled with ignorance now watered with fear and distress. The memories of the break-in, the blood, the red. The child stumbled back away from Takuto, both of them shocked that the ground seemed to ripple under them.

“Ren!” was all Takuto could utter until a shrill shriek spilled from Ren’s lips. More blood dripped down from the sky, the child turned and tripped against his feet and fell onto the ground. Takuto reached for Ren but stopped.

Rumi. Rumi was in the reflection, so many copies of her, eye wide and afraid, blood gushing from her red locks, Takuto speechless, the only sound coming from his lips were the terrified whimpers that bubbled up from his tight throat. He too soon stumbled onto his knees, his own distressed reflection mirrored back at him, Takuto’s traumatic expression staring back at him among the mosaic of Rumi’s last moments. He dared not to look at the scene above him.

“Subject one is asleep and well, Dr Maruki,”

“Was the actualisation successful?” his voice rang in his ears. Takuto blinked his watering eyes, adjusting his vision to the spotless white tiles that made up the room. The familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils, Takuto barely making out the sweetness of forgotten flowers in bouquets that splashed colour among the featureless wall. He allowed himself time to collect himself; he looked at his hands, bloodless yet he swore he could still feel the liquid staining his hands.

“Yes, Dr Maruki,” the unfamiliar voice rang out. Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat, allowing himself to collect his composure and strength before he stumbled onto his feet with great effort.

Suddenly he found himself in a chair, gazing at the two figures looking over a sleeping child. One was a faceless nurse, writing on a clipboard as she talked. The other was himself, “There seemed to be no complications with the procedure,” the nurse continued, the reflection of Takuto reaching down absent-mindedly to stroke the sleeping Ren’s hair, “He should be waking up at any moment,”

“Thank you,” the other Takuto smiled, “You may go now,”

The nurse nodded before dissipating into a thin cloud of smoke, the other Takuto sighing before turning to the sitting Takuto, looking at him soberly.

“It was...” Takuto croaked, the guilt of his past mistake tightening in his stomach, “I just wanted...”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the other Takuto said quietly, turning back to the sleeping form of Ren, white-gloved hands coiling around strands of black hair. Flashes of memories flickered from within Takuto’s vision. How his son’s face contorted in anguish at the recollection of memories, how desperate he was to forget, willing to battle his friends to preserve his own ignorance, the lingering gazes, hauntings of his own psychological pain that echoed from within his own eyes, “He’s such a strong child, even when staring at the face of danger he still puts on a brave face,”

“Yeah, he really-” he feels something wrapping tightly around Takuto’s wrists. He looked down; blackish-blue tendrils slid across his skin. Panic rises from his chest and tightens his throat; he struggles against the grip of the monster binding him.

“There’s one more thing I need to get rid of,” the other Takuto murmured, Takuto futilely thrashing against Azathoth’s hold. The cognitive double approached him; eyes unblinking under the thick frames of his glasses as he watched Takuto struggle against the cognitive Persona. A click of his fingers, and the tendrils encompassed all of Takuto’s body other than his face, “This is for my patient, for my son,”

“You’re making a mistake!” Takuto’s voice cracked, his appeals to his cognitive double fruitless as he saw him snap his fingers. He felt himself pulled down by the otherwise unseen demon, his feet slowly sinking into the floor, the cognitive Takuto watching him disappear with a blank face.

“This is for his own good,” the cognitive Takuto said absolutely, his expression unmoving while he watched Takuto sink into the ground, “He needs to forget, he needs to be unburdened by the memories of her death, and that includes removing you from his life,”

“But-”

“It’s the only way,” the cognition repeated to him, the scenery around him going monochrome, the doubles skin growing paler before everything started to fade into white “We both know it’s the right way,”

“We...” Takuto croaked through the tears that started to well in the corners of his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, tearing his eyes from his cognitive double in shame, “I was... I was foolish to think that. All it did was cause Ren and I suffering...”

The cognition said nothing.

“I should have been there for him...” he choked, the tentacles that wrapped around him grew ever tighter, “But I was a coward. I-”

He turned his head to see nothing. Featureless white. His throat tightened. There was nothing; he was stuck, yet the tendrils continued to drag him down, deeper and deeper, his breaths quickened, he was panicking, fidgeting against his bonds. It was too much, he was growing increasingly fatigued, he needed to escape, he-

“Daddy?”

Ren’s confused voice rang out, and Takuto quickly lost consciousness, his vision turning black.

---

“-he the next patient?” a voice rang out from the fringes of his consciousness, so familiar to his ears. His eyelids were heavy. Takuto wanted to sleep.

“Yes, Dr Am-” another voice accompanied the stranger. His mouth was dry. He felt sick.

“-ki, Takuto,” the first voice chuckled, Takuto dragging himself from his uncomfortable slumber, wincing in pain at the bright light that assaulted his vision.

“Who... who are-?”

Takuto jolted awake in alarm. The voice... was Ren, the grey eyes of his son looking at him, tired and heavy. His hair was slicked back neatly, his outfit a white, spotless suit, his shirt collar propped neatly around his neck. “Where am I?”

“You’re in good hands, Mr Maruki,” Ren smiled at him. It unnerved Takuto; Ren’s eyes shimmering yet empty, the curl of his lips rehearsed and forced, his voice too calm for the situation they both found themselves in, “Don’t worry. Soon your troubles will all disappear,”

Ren’s words did nothing to soothe Takuto. He looked down to where he currently sat, a white throne under him. Takuto paled.

“Patient seems to be distressed due to the loss of his son,” Ren spoke, snapping his fingers to the same featureless nurse from before, who then handed him a clipboard, “unforeseen circumstances; it seemed that the little one had died during a failed robbery-”

Ren fiddled his hair in thought, tucking a stray strand behind his ear before continuing, “Patient seems to be in great psychological pain. Advisory procedure includes amnesia brought upon by actual-”

“Ren, please don’t,” Takuto cried, shaking his head furiously, “Please stop this madness, you’re making a-”

“Nurse, please make sure our patient here is secure!” Ren ordered the cognition, it nodded its head before lunging towards Takuto, its limbs sprouting from its form before pinning Takuto on the throne.

“Please, Mr Maruki,” Ren begged the thrashing Takuto, “Just calm down. I don’t want to cause you any more distress, the redhead was already enough trouble to treat,”

“Ren wait plea-”

A snap of his fingers. The entire amphitheatre rumbled violently, a great figure rose from behind Ren’s determined form, its golden skin and green eyes glowing in the light. Takuto sat there petrified, his mouth hung agape, his body quaked in fear, eyes wide as his forehead perspired with sweat, his mouth dry, his heart thumped with sickening speed, only able to hear it thrash in his chest as he gazed up upon the Persona who stared back at him with its unmoving face.

“Adam Kadmon,” Ren uttered his name, “You know what to do,”

A click of his gloved fingers, and Takuto’s vision was once more engulfed into black. ---

His brown eyes flickered open once more. Takuto rested his head on the featureless floor. He was back to where he started, the weird ethereal voice that Joker- no- his son had sent him to face the trial he so desperately wanted Takuto to endure. He wanted to go home, he wanted this madness to stop; he rose from the blackness, seeing that he was now palming wood, the walls surrounded him painted black while fluorescent light hung above his head.

“Was this...” he mumbled, yet the clicking of familiar heels made him snap to attention, hastily scrambling up to his feet, the shadow of his son walking towards him with hands in his pockets, golden eyes transfixed intently, emerging from the shadows of the empty room, him using his will upon the Palace they were currently in to convey his dramatic aura with persistent intimidation.

“Did you have fun, father?” Joker seethed, tongue rolling with each syllable as if the words were bitter to the taste. He looked pleased with himself, claiming his victory over his father, looking down at him with scorn, yet Takuto could see the agony that brewed in him by the quiver of his bottom lip, “I sure did, watching you flounder like that,”

“Was all of that how you truly felt?” Takuto meekly asked, watching how Joker swaggered towards him, avoiding the rhetorical inquiry from the shadow, “Everything I put you through... did you suffer that much?”

Takuto didn’t like how the corners of Joker’s mouth tugged higher, how his smile grew wider, thinner, his golden irises quivering in delight, how the white in his engulfed everything. Joker said nothing, his strides widening, Takuto’s feet firmly planted onto the floor.

“I-”

“The things I had to endure,” Joker roared, his expression unmoving yet his voice quaked with rage ill-fitting of the mask he wore, “The fights between my adopted parents, the stares and whispers I’d get from my classmates, the anguish I had to endure once I remembered. I kept-”

Joker’s facade slightly cracked, lines on his face, as if it were porcelain.

“I had nightmares” he cried, voice breaking, yet he betrayed no tears, “Nightmares from that day, seeing things that I couldn’t explain, seeing her dead, the blood... I always woke up in a cold sweat, never remembering why I was crying, I-”

Joker inched his face closer to Takuto’s with each word, stretching himself further upward, standing on the soles of his boots. What he didn’t expect from his rant was the arms that wrapped around him, the shadow pulled from his taunt into a comforting embrace, Takuto’s hand snaked to comb the strands of his unruly hair. Joker’s expression transitioned one from hate into befuddlement, feeling something hot drip down onto his grand, black coat.

“I’m sorry,” Takuto choked, bringing him in closer, undeterred by the mask poking painfully in his neck, “I’m sorry,” he repeated, grasping his son’s hair, palming it with long, tender strokes, “I couldn’t bear to look at you, you didn’t move, didn’t speak, I wanted you to get better, I thought-”

Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat. He felt Joker’s body in his arms slump slightly, his head resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,”

The shadow said nothing, merely allowing himself to be held, his body limp, small heaves escaped from his throat every so often.

“Please, let us help you, Ren-”

The shadow snapped to attention, a hand around the scruff of Takuto’s jacket collar, tearing him away from the embrace they were locked in. In his shock, Takuto tried to escape from the grasp of the invisible assailant, only able to by slipping from the article of clothing, stumbling forward and running back to the hunched shadow, Joker’s gloved hands hiding his face. Yet as he got closer something stopped his advance; he collided into something, hard, yelping in agony as he clutched his nose, blinking to see that there was nothing in between them.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the shadow laughed while Takuto pressed his hands at the unseen barrier between them, the sound hollow, no joy in his words, “None of you do,”

The sound of trickling water filled the room, red swirled below Joker’s boots, Takuto confused and scared at the sight before him. It was like... It was like... “I’m going to make everything better,” Joker continued, peaking through the gap of his splayed hand on his face, “Heaven is nothing but a lie; I’m going to make a place where desires can truly be realised,”

“Ren, you don’t have to do this! Please,” Takuto begged, the red liquid rising rapidly up towards Joker’s hunched body, the shadow glaring at Takuto’s fearful form, “You’re making a mistake, Ren, don’t make the same mistake I did,”

“Of course I won’t,” Joker smiled as he stood up straight, the waters still rising, his facade perfect yet again, the calm on his face appearing so sudden that it terrified Takuto how easily Joker was able to slip back into calm, “I know a way to make them obey, all of them,”

“Is it true? Are you using-” the water was now up to his waist, Joker unfazed by the liquid slowly drowning him.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks,” Joker laughed, licking his lips while he watched Takuto squirm, “Not like I’ll tell you... any of you. You’ll just make everything more complicated, you’ll ruin all my plans, and the worst thing is the realisation that none of you care,”

“You’re destroying yourself in the process,” Takuto begged, his hands pressing against the glass, “Your friends have told me everything, each day your mental state is decaying further, this place is collapsing in upon itself. You’re losing yourself, Ren-”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT NAME,” Joker screeched, banging two of his fists onto the invisible barrier between them, Takuto clumsily stumbling back with shock, “I am not Ren, I’m not him, I am better, HIS better!” the red was now at his neck, the room shaking with invisible fury, “I will never go back to being him, Maruki, and you should realise that by now,”

“Ren-”

But it was too late, the shadow fully submerged in the red liquid, seemingly gone. Panic engulfed Takuto, him now thumping against the glass with his hands rolled into fists, desperate to save his son from the other side, “Ren!” he called out to no avail, continuing to pound against the barrier before him.

A subtle crack, and then another, then another. Takuto heard the trickling of water before he saw it, red liquid now bursting through the dam separating him and his son, the cascade of water spilling out like dominoes, and it wasn’t long for the barrier to completely break, the red torrent sweeping everything in his path up in its tide, taking Takuto with it.

---

A low rumble came from behind the theatre door, the thieves emerging from another one of Joker’s trials pitted against them, it swung from its hinges with Takuto being thrown outside of the room. He landed with an ‘oomph’ onto the carpeted floor, the group running towards him in shock and worry, though they could barely see a visible scratch on him.

“Maruki-san!” Sumire was the first to rush to his aid, kneeling next to the dazed brunette, blue flames dissipating her mask while her hands glowing with the familiar green of Diarahan, “Are you okay, are you hurt, what happened?”

“I’ll, I’ll be fine,” Takuto assured her gently dismissing her, trying hard to amass the strength to stand up on his own two feet, “I just... I just need a moment,”

“You don’t look fine,” Haru pointed out softly, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look like you’ve been through a lot,”

“If it’s anything like the trials we have to endure, I’m surprised he came out unscathed,” Yusuke mumbled out loud, “Though then again, Ren is his son...”

“I didn’t do anything too taxing, haha,” Takuto weakly laughed, giving the thieves an unconvincing, weak smile, “It was... it was...”

His smile faded, his facade melted, looking down at the faded carpet below him, “I... I didn’t realise fully the pain I put him through,” he said, almost whispering, “He was suffering all that time. It’s my fault-”

“It isn’t your fault though,” Ann said earning perplexed looks from the thieves and an unamused glare from Goro, “I- I mean, it’s not just you who’s at fault here, Dr. Maruki,” she clarified, “I think we each all have something to do with making Ren’s Palace appear. We’re at fault too,”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were doin’ it for bad purposes too,” Ryuji interjected, “I mean, you did what you thought was right, right?”

“All of you are too forgiving,” Goro muttered.

Without warning the Palace started to quake, everyone thrown off from their feet as the walls started to shake, the chandeliers suspended above their heads rattling amongst the thundering rumble that consumed the premises.

“W-Why is the Palace acting up now?!” Morgana squeaked before falling onto his back, the others struggling to keep their balance, “I thought-”

“Ren’s not looking too good!” Futaba squeaked, fiddling and adjusting her headset as she looked over the information displayed by her Persona, “His vitals are falling fast!”

But Takuto didn’t pay attention to the panicked chatter of the thieves, looking down at his hands, mortified how the dull colour of the red carpet below his hands faded even further into a rotten brown. Lights flickered around him from above. It was a nightmare, the cognitive patrons screaming. He felt something small and dust-like trickle against his back.

The quake went as sudden as it came, the roar fading into deathly silent once more. Takuto peaked out from under his huddled hands that shielded him from above, eyes darting from side to side in a panic.

“W-what happened?” he asked the thieves who were trying to regain their footing, though he already suspected the answer.

“Ren’s getting worse,” Makoto answered his rhetorical question, and Takuto’s face flushed with dread. She looked at him, her eyes sympathetic behind her mask, “You should get out of here, it isn’t safe for you,”

“You’re... you’re right,” he sighed defeated, aware that if he had accompanied further than necessary, he would be nothing but dead weight. He didn’t have a Persona, no way to support the rest of the group within or outside of battles, sure to get in their way. He hung his head in defeat, carefully picking himself up from the floor, “Just... just make sure you do everything you can to save him... alright? He’s... he’s all I have left,”

The thieves nodded in response, yet their expressions conveyed the apprehensive outcome of their endeavour.

---

Ren said nothing, merely watched his shadow wandering throughout the grand space of the dressing room. His path was directionless, absent-mindedly walking in loops, circling the furniture, his stare unfocused and distant.

“Why?” was all Ren could ask, baffled by his own shadow, “Why do you keep lashing out?”

“He deserved it,” Joker reasoned, continuing his purposeless pace, the other cognitions that normally served him purposely out of sight, “They all do, Ren, why don’t you see that?”

“They don’t, they don’t, Joker,” Ren said, and Joker laughed bitterly, “You’re hurting them. You’re hurting the people I- we-”

“Did WE deserve what happened to us!?” Joker snapped at Ren, turning to him, venom in his expression, “Did WE deserve to forget Mom? To get carted off to someone else just like property, to have to endure our adopted parents and their wrath to only be thrown by the wayside, to have our father, LIE to us, to be USED by him for his actualization? DID we!? DID WE?!”

“Joke-”

“HE ABANDONED US!” Joker shrieked; the walls of the Palace quaked around him. His golden eyes welled with tears, pulsating with anguish and bitterness, “HE USED US AS A- A- A SICK GUINEA PIG! I am SICK of being used as a- as a- a- an OBJECT! Like I’m NOTHING!”

“Joker-”

“Stop denying that you feel this way,” the shadow squeaked, his red fingers intertwined in his black, dishevelled locks, “Stop it! It’s hopeless, Ren, you know that deep inside you don’t want to understand, you don’t want to forgive. That bastard-” another sob escaped from his throat, Joker choking on his tears and disgust, a familiar swell of power coursing through his being. Another shaky sigh. He could feel Ren finally coming to his senses, his lips curling upwards from the corners of his mouth, yet he barely felt any joy as he continued, “He’ll soon pay. They’ll all soon pay, and I’ll make sure that they’ll regret what they did to us.”

---

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can’t help with?”

Takuto looked at Sumire, she and Goro the only ones escorting Takuto onto the edges of the Palace’s domain. A weak, tired smile he wore as he shook his head, “I’ll be nothing but dead weight, Yoshizawa, and it looks like you all have everything under control,”

“At least we agree on something,” Goro hissed, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on one of his legs, “No Metaverse Powers or any standout physical strength. All you’ll be to us is a liability. Deadweight. A sitting duck-”

“I wonder why, Senpai,” Sumire pondered, “I mean, he should have his Persona at least, right?”

“I-”

“Regardless, I hope that I was able to help in some way,” Takuto interjected, tearing Sumire and Goro from their pondering, “But please... please save Ren,”

“We’re doing everything we can, Maruki-san,” Sumire nodded, “And if there’s any way you can help we’ll tell you, right, Akechi-senpai?”

“Actually, there is a way in which Maruki can help,” Goro mused, as he looked at the bespectacled man, “There something I was wondering about Joker’s plans,”

“You have my attention,”

Goro turned to look at the theatre before them. A moment passed, before he gazed back into his brown eyes, “I want you to see if there’s anything suspicious going on in the outside world, any changes at all in the public cognition. If you do, contact Yoshizawa, and she’ll contact me, am I clear?”

“Why? Are you suggesting-”

“Just do it,” Goro snapped, and without another word he turned on his heel, making his way back to the Palace. With an apology and a quick bow, Sumire too left Takuto alone at the cusp of the ethereal realm.

He watched them leave, disappearing into the Palace in front of him. His eyes trailed upwards. Towards the top floor of the accursed building, to where Ren was held against his own will by his own distorted thoughts.

“Hold on a little longer, Ren,” he croaked under his breath, unwilling to leave as he blinked the tears away from his welling eyes, “Just hold on a little longer, please.”

#persona #palace: theatre of mirrors #ren amamiya #takuto maruki #takuren au #dan's log #png #mine*#myfanfic #mywriting

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roccinan · 3 years

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1/? simply because you have the most galaxy brain thoughts ever,,, what do you think would've happened if they waited until s5 to reveal sergio and andrés were (half)brothers?

i do know that when my fam started watching lcdp at first i was so put off. like i watched ep 1 and the prof creeped me out. ""berlin"" creeped me out. e v e r y o n e creeped me out. and i was cringing so hard becz of the short lived romance angle with alison parker. i literally did not watch s1 at all xcept for like sneak peeks. highlights being the scene where berlin discovers monica is alive and does his dramatic door by door thing? that was so SUSPENSEFUL even tho i had no idea what was going on. DOMINGO DE RESURECCION remains forever iconic.

2/? And OF COURSE the group bella ciao dance when they hit earth (hahah i thought the banda were actually like a "found family where they all love each other LOL") i am a SUCKER for found family. but anyhoo when i properly got intrigued was s2 when tokyo was kicked out (the music from that scene is still my favourite) it's just so dramatic..!! why am i telling u all this again? right, i haven't slept a wink and it's nearly 7 am pls forgive me if these rambles make no sense. i have a point with this.. i'm going somewhere

RIGHT. so when the fam actually rewound the ep cz i wanted to know WHY berlin did that (didn't fully realise how batsht crazy he can be), the russian roulette scene played. and pedro's acting. MAN. and like just that ep they made a point of showing us these flashbacks where sergio and andrés hug....

Hi anon! Thanks for stopping by- sorry took me a while to get back to you, will do my best to answer this string of messages (got all 4 parts)! Glad you like my thoughts XD

Firstly, I believe Andres/Sergio would be the biggest LCDP ship if the writers were evil enough to wait until s5 to reveal that they’re brothers asdfasdf. They’re already the two most popular male characters anyway.

It’d be especially crazy because it’s not like they tell the actors these things beforehand either. So that means there’d probably be a Serdres vs Berlermo vs Serquel fight every 5 minutes. I mean, even if not everyone agrees on everything in the lcdp fandom, it’s the most “peaceful” one I’ve ever been in because no character really gets in the way of any other ship (like even with helermo and berlermo there’s no true conflict since Andres is dead). But with Serdres in the mix?? CATASTROPHE. Everyone out here writing essays about how much of a bastard/bitch/homewrecker/motherfucker that Andres or Sergio or Martin or Raquel is. Never a moment’s peace!! so basically, a regular fandom lmao.

Then when we find out they’re brothers, it goes from catastrophe to Apocalypse. Suddenly serquel and berlermo have the upper hand. Everyone would double down and harass the crew/cast into whatever’s going on. Plot-wise, everything is the same though, just without Andres calling Sergio “hermanito.” Fandom however, would be a minefield! And I’m glad that’s not the case because I’d probably be an unfortunate serdres shippers XD No joke, my mother and I thought they were a couple in S1. So bullet dodged!

Secondly: haha, everyone creeped me out in S1 too, especially Berlin, I hated him, but thinking back, I think I mostly hated the fact that I didn’t hate him as much as I should have. I’ve made peace with it now but oh boy, was he a controversial figure in my head. I actually like the professor on sight though! IDK why, maybe because I thought his plans were cool or because of Alvaro’s delivery. I was afraid of an Alison Parker romance thing too- like, I do feel like she had a storyline that got dropped, but that part was quite cringey and overall unnecessary to the plot. Same with Ariadna, which was even cringier and even Less necessary to the plot.

Domingo de resurrecion was iconic though yes! And even with all that said, I genuinely enjoyed parts 1 and 2 because it was so different from anything else I’d seen. Not content wise, but maybe tonally? IDK, they were just really bold with a lot of things, like being objectively unafraid of having the protagonists (plural because all of them did LMAO) do objectively shitty things. Really kept me in suspense from beginning to end!

I’m usually a big fan of found families too! The funny thing is, then banda never struck me as a “family” until season 3. In 1 and 2, I was wondering what felt different about this show; then it hit me that these people remained colleagues to the end. Like, they backstabbed each other (repeatedly) and everyone was quite selfish, and only the bonds that were already there stuck. They were the opposite of a found family LOL But I think by S3, they went down the found family route and I didn’t mind because it makes quite a lot of sense for them to feel that bond after the Mint heist and almost dying/living together (and having witnessed 3 deaths together on the team). But I still doubt Berlin and Palermo were ever really part of this found family, with good reason XD

LOL the scene where Tokyo got kicked out is also among my favorites!! It was so funny and dramatic, and it was like, wow we can go anywhere with this now! Don’t worry- your rambles and thoughts are always welcome :D

I’m rolling over how you watched the Tokyo expulsion scene before the Russian Roulette scene haha. Also yes, PEDRO. Berlin may have been “controversial” to me at first, but I became Pedro’s fan from day one! Also the Hug is probably what made me like Berlin (despite my determination to hate him rip) in the first place.

3/? ... and like now that i think about it... tokyo had real guts huh. like she KNEW berlin was close enough to el prof to know his name (fhshshs imagine if she'd heard andrés saying 'hermanito' it's unrealistic that she didn't TBH. i mean obviously they decided to make them brothers only towards the end but like in canon universe. how tf did andrés de 'i raised my bby brother since he was 12 and i'd actually die for him and his stupidly brilliant plans' fonollosa go 5 months without slipping up once and calling sergio hermanito. or like,,, i like to imagine sergio kinda gave him lots of leeway(?) sergio's a lil oblivious too but like i'm sure half of it is.. that's my dumbass older bro shut up i'm not being partial you all have city names .. andr-berlin, pass the salt. like OOF. + sergio also knew his big bro was dYiNG so like. i'm sure they were sneaking in some quality time (i hope they did 😭 gosh imagine if sergio really did not ever consider the possibility of andrés dying in the heist so he'd tell himself he needs to perfect the plan now & anyway he'll have enough time to spend w/ his brother post heist in philippines. and then ... that happened :/

Tokyo has guts in place of braincells you bet that she’d do something like this, consequences be damned XD I also think it’s unrealistic for Andres not to slip up, but I have a feeling nobody besides Tokyo really tried to spy on them in private. I headcanon that Andres instead slips up and does things like ruffle Sergio’s hair or adjust his tie when other people are around. I also think Tokyo was convinced that they were a gay couple when she saw them hug XD And if Sergio never went on to tell the banda that Berlin was his brother, everyone would be giving Palermo such awkward looks after Nairobi accused him of being in love with Berlin LMAO.

I agree! I also imagine Sergio giving Andres leeway because he’s just so used to interacting with his brother that way haha. So either he’d go out of his way to ignore Berlin in front of everyone else or IDK, borderline telepathically communicate with him. Not even “pass the salt” has to leave his mouth- Berlin just puts salt into his food and cuts it up for him, in front of everyone who’s just staring like O.O

I actually do think Sergio never considered the possibility of Andres dying in the heist because he was just that confident in his own plan. Plus, Andres was probably the one person he expected to survive. And a lot of it has to do with Sergio’s attachment to him + Andres’ own habit of downplaying any illness/injury over the years, which I think is safe to believe canon. He was really in no condition to be in the heist, let alone lead it. Just the fact that he needs to take those injections is a big sign that he shouldn’t be there, but Sergio didn’t catch it because he’s human and blinded by faith :’) So yeah, I think Sergio was planning to spend proper time with Andres in Palawan and at Toledo, they just settled for those little moments by the fireplace.

4/? what always also just GETS me in the feels is that el prof was shown to be this in control creepily calm dude who is miles ahead of everyone. + in the 1st Toledo class itself we see how detached,, like how impersonal he is, how professional - choosing frickin CITY NAMES?! no 'personal relationships' ? (after recruiting his older brother, a father son pair, and war cousins... oh sergio 😂 he's such a frickin nerd and i love him) but like the earlier seasons really emphasised how robotic and down right COLD he can be. it still sometimes bothers me that he put the button in the car. he lead the police to his own damn brother, his blood, who took care of him and adopted him and was terminally ill and like - UGH i try to rationalise that sergio is that cold and unbothered. or that he has strict morals. but it still bothers me becz that button really sort of tipped andres' already unstable sanity. like andrés tells denver someth like you've robbed my future and after that he just seems so much more suicidal and accepting that he can't get out of the mint alive - WHY SERGIO WHY. I KNOW THAT AT THAT POINT YOU BASICALLY DIDN'T KNOW ANDRÉS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR BROTHER YET BECZ IT WASN'T WRITTEN IN THE SCRIPT BUT WHYYYYY

That’s so funny to me too LMAO No personal relationships, then he recruits these guys. Sergio, hello?? Also can’t forget how he just recruited his own girfrleind in the second heist too. Buddy! Love this nerd.

I don’t think that cold aspect of Sergio went away in later seasons either; he just had more opportunity to show a more open side of himself + without Andres, he had to metaphorically leave his comfort zone without a safety net. But in earlier seasons, he really did seem heartless at times XD Then again, we can argue that the same goes for Andres.

To be fair, I didn’t feel sorry for Andres over the button thing lol, but once the brothers reveal happened and all of Alvaro/Pedro’s headcanons came out and we know everything Andres did for Sergio, it makes what Sergio did REALLY harsh. We really just have to explain it through Sergio’s strict morals and him believing this to be the best non-fatal punishment for Andres, who at that point had convinced him he killed a hostage. And because he knew the television interview was coming up, maybe Sergio assumed Andres would use it to “clear” his name anyway. And empathy isn’t one of Sergio’s strong suits either, so through that lens, I can rationalize it.

Also it was lowkey funny to me how Andres was there like DENVER MUST DIE until he found out Sergio put the button there, then he was like “oh hermanito, you and your practical jokes <3″

Still, like you said, Andres and Sergio weren’t brothers yet at this point. They were probably supposed to be lovers lmao and had a dysfunctional Hannibal Lecter x Will thing going on. But because they made #hermanos canon, that button moment just feels very out of place now, especially given how much the two genuinely love each other.

Guess we could also say that Sergio’s just generally kinda bratty with Andres XD Like, he knows no matter what, Andres would forgive him anything. That’s how I see it anyway!

#anonymous #thanks for stopping by!#royalpaperhouse is this you my friend? :D

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treenahasthaal · 4 years

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‘Tober

I had aspirations to take part in #Whumptober, or #angstober, however I am dealing with my own angst.

As some of you know, I lost my mother on the 23rd of September - exactly 9 months since my sister’s death and 3 days before the 9th anniversary of my husband’s death. Added to that 20th October is the 8th anniversary of my father’s death.

I was my mother’s main carer (another reason why I haven’t been writing much), until she was taken into hospital and I am about to write a complaint about her care and how I, and my brother, were treated by the staff, and I feel a little lost.

When I was still in primary school I had a dream that my mother died. I remember the panic that I felt in the dream. I remember the utter despair that I felt. I remember the utter relief that I felt when i woke up to find that it was dream.

This, some 40yrs later, isn’t a dream. My mother is gone.

I thought I knew how I would react. I thought I’d rationalise that she was 90yrs old, tired and it was her time. (My Dad was 85 and riddled with cancer, and I have been at peace with his passing). That hasn’t happened.

Because she was MY mum.

I told her everything. I kept no secrets from her. None. When I nicked 50p from her purse, I told her. I got a slap! But, I told her....

When I was struggling at school, I told her. If I was bullied at school, I told her. When I was stressed at work, I told her. She was there when I wept for my husband.

In 1977 (when I was 11) my older brother bought a book called “Star Wars.” I was an avid reader - I was (am) dyslexic (I have issues with connecting words and spelling - and mum made me read and made me love reading and writing. Well, I read that book. I watched news reports of the movie opening in the USA. I begged my mum to take me. Mum loved sci-fi and she took me to the “pictures,” to see Star Wars.

She thought my resulting obsession was a “phase.” I talked non-stop about Luke Skywalker and Mark Hamill for years, sharing all my news and everything I learned about them. Mum listened, never judged. I dreamed verbally that I would one day meet him... (I did, several times, and just a few months ago Marilou was asking me how myself and my boys were doing. :o ) Mum was amazed when I did meet him and listened, interested, when I told her all about it.

Mum was an amazing, but ordinary, woman. She instilled values, morals and kindness in me. in her last days she called me her (cue Scottish accent) “wee darling.” She (and my dad) gave me love, a home, a family and understanding.

I should perhaps add here that my mum and dad were not my birth parents. They didn’t adopt me either. My mum and dad fostered me when I was one month old. They raised me as their own ( along with two other kids who were no relation, including my sister who died in December). They made a family out of their own son and three unwanted children.

Oh, and my mum read my fanfic. <3

I think this is a little disjointed. Grief is a strange beast. The death of my husband devastated me and I have never truly recovered. The death of my father 13 months later gave me peace in the knowledge that he was no longer in pain. The death of my sister has not been fully processed. The death of my mum, although expected, has left me feeling like that little primary school aged girl, in panic and despair.

Just how do you grieve for someone who gave you everything? How do you grieve for someone who was there for your entire life? And someone, to whom (including dad) you owe everything?

This why I have been quiet lately.

I have reblogged and liked a lot. I love all your stories and art.

Keep it up as you are helping me!

#Whumptober #angstober #flufftober #Star Wars #Luke Skywalker #Mum #grief #why I'm not writing #Life Sucks

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bodywyrcs · 3 years

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Mental Health 2021

And so, its mental health awareness week again. And after one of the toughest years for our collective mental health I wanted to share, without judgement, my own experience and thoughts on the abundance of kindly shared hints and tips that our social media screens become overwhelmed with each May.

About 8 years ago I went to the GP and broke down at him about how low and awful I felt. His response was to tell me I needed a holiday. I mean, I love a holiday but even I could see that this wasn’t something a week backpacking along the coastal path was going to sort. And how sustainable is taking a holiday every time you feel depressed? And considering I was super skint at the time it wasn’t helpful advice at all. I left the surgery feeling embarrassed and ashamed that I’d wasted his time and that I was overreacting. I decided that there was no other option for it. I would have to fix myself.

My first stop was YouTube where I decided meditation was the thing I needed to do. I pretty much forced myself every day to do a 10 minute guided meditation. It was difficult to start with as I couldn’t stop the negative voice in my head and most sessions ended with me more angry than I’d started. But gradually I saw a change. I started to enjoy the moment of peace in each day and thought I’d found the answer.

But then the next life obstacle cropped up, the surface cracked and all that meditation-y goodness soon melted away, as I’d fall back into a horrible fuzz of self-loathing. I had not fixed myself after all.

This pattern repeated itself numerous times over the years. I tried everything. I developed an interest in mindfulness, even gained a qualification in it. I dieted, I took probiotics and brewed kefir, I popped supplements and obsessively exercised because I LOVE WALKING IN THE MOUNTAINS. I thought that inflammation was the problem, then found a new vocation and decided that massage was the solution. I found the high of cold water swimming exhilarating but it never lasted long enough after drying myself off. And eventually I tried counselling (I have a great recommendation if anybody feels they need someone, based in Llanrwst and she can work via zoom too.) She really helped me a LOT and the sessions absolutely lightened the load and helped me rationalise things.

However, they did not fix me.

You see, the problem was by now I had spent so many years trying to fix myself that each time something ‘failed’ I would hit another new low. Not only was I still broken, I was also a failure because I couldn’t make the latest ‘cure all’ work for me. And while it’s easy for me to write this now, when you’ve got what feels like a bloody Tasmanian devil whipping up a storm in your brain its easier said than done. I couldn’t see that I was just chasing my tail in a constant effort that only ever brought more disappointment and made me feel like simply existing wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

Then along came the mild inconvenience of ‘the shop’ nightmare with debt piling up, a global pandemic and a big old lockdown.

Oh, and I broke my leg. Which ironically was the thing that made me decide I needed to try the GP again. Through talking with a friend, I realised that during my immobilised time on the sofa I felt the most light-hearted I’d felt in a while because here I had this physical impairment that showed people I was broken. I didn’t have to try and explain it, unlike the mental illness that was invisible. I had an ‘excuse’ for feeling the way I did (see: lockdown/pandemic/broken ankle) Plus, the prospect of phoning the GP was a lot easier as it meant no face-to-face appointment and I could hide my shame.

But this GP was fantastic. She was awesome. I gave her the abridged version of the above and her response was ‘Blimey, you’ve definitely tried everything haven’t you!? Let’s give medication a go’.

Now, medication is not always the best option and the first month of taking it was pretty gnarly for my body and mind. But this is my story and nothing more, I’m not telling anyone what to do here. I had felt the stigma so hard around mental health and medication, GPs and putting on a brave face, that I had completely forgotten what it was like to feel content. I found myself appreciating stuff that I hadn’t even noticed in such a long time, as I’d been constantly trying to justify my worth by maintaining the façade of being hap-hap-happy! I hadn’t realised what an absolute effort everything had become and of course each small or large inconvenience that life threw my way was simply the straw that broke the camels back (over and over again).

Anti-depressants have not fixed me though. They have given my brain the capacity to think rationally and to bring me back to a state where I can process all the day-to-day stuff without collapse. They have not numbed me to life, but have allowed me the opportunity to enjoy it and I haven’t felt this good in years. Yes, I still get sad and yes, I get angry, but I can cope with it and I can see those emotions as something passing by and not here to stay.

I suppose the thing I think when I’m writing this down is that I wish I had seen a GP earlier who had understood mental health better in the first place. How different the last 8 years might have been. I was put in a position where I thought I was solely and entirely responsible for things that were happening in my brain that I could not control – that I could somehow choose to switch on happiness if I truly wanted to.

The problem is that people living with mental health struggles can feel vulnerable and they might be more susceptible to suggestions – which in turn makes me wince when I see posts making outrageous claims regarding depression and anxiety. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely been guilty of sharing the 5 Ways to Wellbeing as if it’s a magic spell and I’ve wanged on about mindfulness as if it will transform you into a higher being. But please know, I did these things as I was struggling to work out my own stuff and at the time, I fully believed I was fixing myself (ps. I was not).

I suppose my summary is that I don’t have an exact summary. There is no fixing people, we’re all messy and weird and wonderful. But sometimes what is happening inside us is chemical and there is medical help for that, and sometimes we just need the confidence in ourselves and our self-worth to push a little harder to get the treatment we require.

As for all the stuff that has been ‘proved’ to improve our mental health, just remember, what works for me won’t necessarily work for you and vice versa. And while I still love, love, love cold water swimming and practise mindfulness most days, I can safely say that kefir and diets can go in the bin (sorrynotsorry). For me mental health awareness is talking to friends about our experiences and being able to empathise with each other. It is understanding that sometimes we will feel happy without trying, sometimes we will feel happy because we are doing something we love, and other times happiness will elude us completely. But most importantly happiness is not the be all end all – us human beings have such a wide range of emotions and we spend a lot of our time trying to avoid them. Running off a bad mood, drinking away our sorrows or posting on social media about our totally excellent lives while wishing someone knew how we actually felt. Mental health awareness for me is sharing stories and being able to laugh at ourselves, wallowing under the duvet when I’m sad, ranting with a mate when I’m angry and having a little weep when I’m frustrated and trying not to end every sentence with ‘but I know there are people with far worse problems than me in the world’.

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 3 years

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My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part eleven: Happiness

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me.

So with that in mind, let’s get started.

Happiness

So much like the majority of Evermore and Folklore, Happiness reminds me of my family and the trauma of losing them which I’m trying to move past. Particularly, Happiness is the connecting point of the progress I’ve made moving forth and the reality that there’s still a long way to go and wishing I was further along the recovery road.

Honey, when I'm above the trees I see this for what it is

I feel like this lyric is pretty much what it’s like on ‘good’ days. Like when I have removed myself enough from the situation and pain, I can rationalise to myself that what happened to my family wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just a bunch of well meaning people who made choices they thought were for the best but ultimately did more harm than good. I can also acknowledge that what happened was probably for the best and that while I’m in pain now, it probably would have been worse otherwise.

But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given is just shit we're dividin' up

But most days aren’t ‘good’ days. Most days, it feels inescapable that I gave between 16 to 23 years to these people that were meant to love me unconditionally for my whole lifetime just for them to decide that what we had wasn’t worth sticking around for. Most days, I can’t move past the bitterness that I have knowing that I feel like I’ve wasted my life because genuinely lived my life as a mirrorball and gave my all to make these people happy and keep us together just for it all to fall apart anyway.

Showed you all of my hiding spots

I’ve always been an oversharer that kept her heart on her sleeve. I genuinely feel like I showed my family, and especially my immediate family, every version of myself. My highs, my lows, my strengths, my weaknesses, my likes and dislikes; I showed it all.

I was dancing when the music stopped

I’ve mentioned this a few times in this project, but despite the issues my family had, I really fucking believed we’d get out of this okay and that the others wanted to. And I wore rose coloured glasses as things were ending and people were showing their true colours because I wanted so badly to believe that it was just a bad fight and once things cooled down, everyone would pitch in to fix things. So when it finally hit that none of them truly wanted to fix things, I realised that the music had stopped years beforehand and I had just been living in my own fantasy world dancing to a beat that wasn’t there.

And in the disbelief, I can't face reinvention. I haven’t met the new me yet

I saw a post recently that said this line is pretty much Right Where You Left Me condensed into one lyric and genuinely I have not seen anything more correct in years. Like I am still sitting here nearly six years after this started and nearly four years since I finally accepted it (god realising it’s been that long hit me like a fucking truck, not gonna lie) wondering who the fuck am I meant to be now? Like even without feeling like I devoted my life/existence for these people, who are you meant to be if not a reflection of the people who raised you and were meant to love you unconditionally?

There'll be happiness after you

I know I will get my balance back one day and be happy. There’s a lot of practical steps that need to happen first, but I know I’ll get there. And even though I wish it was with my family, I’ve accepted that it won’t be and it can’t be dependent on them or else I’m going to end up like my mother and never happy.

But there was happiness because of you

As much as I still cuss out my family, particularly my father, I grew up as a daddy’s girl and family orientated person and not all of that was negative. Though I can’t currently look back at them without crying, I have photos of birthdays, concerts, events, holidays and even just random day to day life at home that brought me so much joy. Likewise, though not directly involved, I would not have had one of the best experiences in my life of going to Japan with my school had my parents not cared enough to work their ass off for it. And though it’s hard to remember at times, especially on bad days, that is just as important to remember as the fact I’m going to be happy one day if I truly want to heal.

Both of these things can be true

Like I said, both past and future happiness is important and doesn’t negate each other. I can accept that someone from my past that made me happy isn’t going to be the one that does it in my future without either being more or lesser than the other.

There is happiness past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries. Beyond the terror in the nightfall

Growing up in a mentally, emotionally and at times physically abusively household has left me with a lot of scars and while there’s no way to ‘prove’ it, I genuinely believe was the start of my then undiagnosed PTSD as opposed to the events of 2011. While ‘terror in the nightfall’ can directly be linked with the PTSD symptom of having chronic nightmares, I also link it just as strongly with general self doubting thoughts. Like I am very much still in a place where despite wanting to, I constantly question whether I should get married and have children or even just make new friends because I don’t feel worthy of it. All it would do is fuck over these other people. Because like end of the day, if the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally for my whole life didn’t, why the hell would anyone else?

Haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime

I will love my family forever. And genuinely, if they hadn’t of left, I would have done anything to make them happy for the rest of my life. And the fact that I do not get the chance to do that haunts me, and while I can never know for sure, I genuinely think it haunts them too.

Leave it all behind and there is happiness

Though it’s been hard, I’ve reached a point where I recognise that if I want to be happy, I need to leave behind the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what’s “meant” to be’ and focus on what is and the people who want to be in my life.

Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

Like I mentioned, I grew up as a daddy’s girl. Growing up, he was always the ‘fun’ parent. The one who was smiling and laughing all the time. The one who propped me up when I felt down. The one I really thought believed in me. But somewhere along the lines, he took offence to me wanting him to step up and face his choices so that we could fix our family. And as a result, he took joy in, in his own words, turning my sister against my mother and I and pushing me to still see him in order for mum to get spousal payments before the legal settlement out of spite. So I spent years begging him to be different, really thinking it was just a moment of hurt just for him to take pleasure in it.

When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

I’ve hinted at the fact that my mother is still less willing to recover and move past what happened with my family. Consequently, she’s spent the last 5 ½ years being like a bull seeing red at all times. And though I’ve tried everything I could to help her (literal hundreds of letters to politicians and other related parties to step in, reaching out to family, constant meetings with lawyers etc), even going as far as to go to law school hoping to find a solution there. But none of it panned out like we hoped. And because richer people with better connections, more money and “smaller” issues that are unrelated to ours won their cases in court and because I’m fighting for future laws to prevent this happening again rather than the unwinnable battle with my now fully adult and moved on family, suddenly it’s my fault things turned out like they did. She genuinely believes I did not try hard enough and did not care enough about my family, and particularly my sister, when in reality, losing her was, is, and always will be the biggest heartbreak of my life.

I hope she'll be your beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you

I’ve mentioned in a few other posts that both of my parents have, in their own way, raised my sister and I to be rivals rather than sisters. And so when my father chose to not reunite our family, it felt like he was picking her over me. And in my bitterness, I spent a long time making comments about how she was either just as bad as he is and using him financially or she was an idiot who couldn’t see through his bullshit and was fine being nothing more than a trophy so long as she was his favourite.

No, I didn't mean that. Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury

With time and distance away from my father and the refusal to constantly lend myself to my mother’s negativity however, I realised that I really had been aiming my anger at the wrong person. My sister was 16 when she left. A literal child. Each and every adult in my family, my then 20 year old self included, owed her more than what happened. Even if she was a “problem child” who physically and verbally lashed out, we owed her more and we failed her. That’s the part about all this that will haunt me forever. It’s not what happened to me. It’s what happened to her and the ways I let my anger and my parents cloud my vision to the point I know in my heart that things would have been different and I could have done more to save this family had I not. And I know that that anger probably traumatised and provoked a lot of my sister’s actions too. And in all honesty? The anger probably came from a place of projection too because in realising my father would rather stick with his lies than his family, I had to accept that I had been the fool that spent years soaking up praise about my achievements just to find out that’s as far as his ‘favouritism’ of me went.

You haven't met the new me yet

I somewhat joke about it, but I genuinely feel like I became a new person in 2019. Though I’m obviously not like magically healed from the trauma or anything, and while I don’t ever see a way I can have these people in my life again, on the most part I have a new outlook on everything. On top of no longer blaming my sister, I’ve been putting the focus back on myself both in terms of things I could have done differently but also doing my best to not see my family’s decision to lie and take the easy way out as being a reflection on me. Because ultimately, it’s not about me; and it took me a long time to realise that. And there’s a sense of peace in that which is the first of many parts that they won’t know about me. And in many ways, that feels like the first step to rebuilding myself.

There'll be happiness after me

Much like how my life has kept going, so has theirs. My now nearly 22 year old sister has a son who’s about to be a toddler. She has friends I’ve probably never met. My other family members probably have just as fulfilling relationships and memories that I’m not part of. It’s sad, but that’s how life goes.

But there was happiness because of me

Again, just like how my anger doesn’t negate the positive memories I’ve had with these people, realistically it’s doubtful that every second of the 16 – 23 years they knew me was neutral at best for them.

Both of these things, I believe

Logically you cannot have one of the above and not the other. Like despite what my mother thinks, you do not just stop being happy one day just because someone, or in this case many people, left. But that new happiness you have doesn’t make the old happiness any less honest. Also just in general In still in a place where like I really have to believe that my family loved and were happy with me but also happy now or else I’ll have a mental breakdown. So yeah…

There is happiness in our history, across our great divide there is a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light from the dress I wore at midnight

Like I’ve said, I have had a lot of good memories with my family, and with them being night owls and our Christmas day events at my uncle’s tending to run for 10 – 12 hours, the use of the time of midnight feels all the more personal to me. And while like I said, these fond memories aren’t enough to go back to that environment, they’re enough to be a light in the dark that reminds me that I’ve been happy before and illuminate the way across the divide to be happy again.

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

Listen, I will probably blame my father and other family members for the rest of my days over what happened. But with the new me that came in 2019, I’ve also accepted that focusing on that both internally and feeling the need to demonise them to everyone by acting like they were the only ones to make bad calls and that some of those calls didn’t come from a well-intentioned but misinformed place doesn’t make any of the pain go away. Even if they were the devil personified, I cannot change what happened. All I can focus on is myself and my future. And that’s the only way I’m going to heal and find peace.

I guess it's the price I paid for seven years in Heaven

Despite everything that happened in my childhood before the split, I am someone who got through it still loving my family and not feeling traumatised by them (or at least not processing it as such) until my adulthood. And while that may seem very bare minimum for a lot of people, it’s also a lot better than a lot of people had it.

And I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties

I know a lot of people see this as a sexual line, but I gotta be real, from the first listen, I pictured the moments where I held/hugged my sister through anxiety attacks and lash outs and my father did the same for me. And again, despite that intimacy, we’re now in a place where we’re only polite in public (not that I’ve seen them out but if I did) in order to not cause a scene/get chucked out of wherever we were. Also, I can see this being how my father viewed all the awkward silences (which I spoke about in my It’s Time To Go post) and whatever when I did go to see him after my parents separation, because again, it did feel more like obligation than actually wanting to be there and while I know he somewhat caused that by deliberately keeping the family apart, I still feel bad over it.

No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him, too

Even the worst of families never expect things to blow up in the way my family’s relationships did. There isn’t and probably never will be a manual on that shit. And there’s an inherit loneliness about that because while your other loved ones can stand by your side, ultimately you gotta go through that shit alone because no one really knows what to say. So all the guilt, anger, depression and whatever else you’re feeling is exactly that: yours and yours alone. And that makes it all the rougher.

But now my eyes leak acid rain on the pillow where you used to lay your head

After my sister and father left, my mother couldn’t bare to sleep in her and my father’s old room nor my sister and my old room; instead opting to sleep in the lounge room. As a result, I moved into my parents’ old room. Though I have all new furniture, it’s set up in much the same way my parents had it and so it’s hard to not think about how my father slept in the same place I am now for 20 years of my life and the same can be said about my sister being in our childhood room for 16 years of her life. And while I’m somebody who has blocked out the ability to cry over most emotions, I’m still someone who cries very easily when I’m frustrated which as much as I wish I wasn’t, I still am frustrated and have cried more tears than I’d like to admit over how easy it should have been to keep our family together and how they just didn’t want to. And because there is that bitterness with the frustration, it does feel far more toxic than regular tears.

After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve blamed myself a lot for decisions I should have made differently in this process, so I see this more as a line to remind myself that I did all I could. Like I took the ‘nice’ route with the adults in my family only to be rejected, I tried the assertive route and was only met with being cut off, and even if I took the ‘nice’ route with my sister, there is no reconnecting people who do not want to be. They all made their choices and could have come back at any time to hear our side even if they didn’t want to at the beginning, but again, taking the easy route was more important to them than taking the right one and no amount of me giving them what they wanted was going to change that.

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness... and I think she'll give you that

This is another fantasy moment for me. Like I really hope that one day I can forgive my family. Not to be in their life or anything, that ship has sailed. But just for my own peace of mind. I feel like I’m almost there with my sister, but honestly? It feels like I’m never going to get there with the rest of them. Alternatively, I see this line as again, being about forgiving myself for the bad calls I made, and while I’m not quite there either, I definitely think I will get there someday.

#about me #happiness #taylor swift #evermore album #ngl kinda hate this because it took so long to do but i also feel like i somehow didn't get it all out despite it being far too long #also this process has shown me that happiness is by far taylor's most devastating song for me personally

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monsterenergybutmakeitgay · 4 years

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Broken

I have come to the grim realisation that I will never be fixed. I am an intrinsically broken person, it’s become part of my soul. I spent so long wallowing in the pain of being broken, I never took the time to try and fix myself and now its too late. Yes, I will probably heal somewhat in the future. I may find a way to catch all of my broken shards and tie them together with the shreds of self preservation I still have. But I will never be fixed. I will never find a way to glue the pieces of my soul back together, to hide all the cracks and make it seem like I was never broken in the first place. I let the world tear me apart and these scars will never fade, through this life or the next. I feel like I should be more devastated by this than I actually am, but I just don't know how to feel. Im so tired all the time, I can't sleep for more than a few hours a day, my head hurts, my heart hurts.

For the longest time, all I have ever heard is “it gets better”, but nobody could truly answer me when I asked “but what if it doesn't?” because nobody wants to consider the fact that there is no fixing some people. Sometimes, there is no bouncing back, there is no magic cure-all that brings you back from the point of no return, to walk you backwards on toe dark path you chose to take. It’s too painful to think that this torment you're feeling now will never go away. It might dull, it might be just an echo in the back of your head or a tiny hole in your chest, but it never truly goes away.

A therapist might tell me that coming to terms with the fact I will never fully heal is the first step in recovery, but this isn't me setting off on that journey, this is me becoming resigned to the fact that I dont think I will ever truly be happy. I will never fully heal from this pain that I’ve endured. This trauma, these scars and nightmares and intrusive thoughts, these cravings for being skinny and feeling hungry and tearing myself apart, that is all part of who I am. I can fight it, sure. And I will, and I am, but it won't just go away.

I have been so hurt through my eighteen years of life, ive had my autonomy stripped away from me, ive had my soul crushed and my heart broken and my spirit completely destroyed. I lived through the words on page, twenty six letters smashed together to create a story I could escape my bleak life in, hundreds of pages for me to lose myself in, a hundred different stories with a hundred different protagonists and I am in all of them because they created me. I lived vicariously through these strong protagonists because I couldn't even stay strong in my story, my reality. So I folded myself into the pages to forget all of this pain that I felt in my bones, hoping that maybe if I read these pages enough times the universe would be kind enough to let me fall in-between the lines, through the paper and into this world where I felt I truly belonged. but the universe isn't known for being merciful, for wasting its time on sad teens with too much time and not enough hope. and years later, im still here, still kicking, so maybe the universe knew what was best.

If you know me, you know I have my own personal philosophy, my own way of rationalising the world to stop myself from going completely insane. Everything happens for a reason, and very rarely will you know what that reason is while its happening because you haven't had time to let it affect you yet. Everything has to have a reason, otherwise nothing makes any sense and the world would fall apart. I dont know my reason, and I think my world is starting to crumble beneath my feet

But its okay, ill find my reason somehow. For now, I have a bucket list of things I need to do before I die and im slowly working through it. Ill let you know whether I find my reason before I finish my list.

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doubleshotofsomething · 5 years

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Publicity Stunt

Publicity Stunt | Part Five

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff?? Idk man just like a bunch of mushy mushy feely stuff

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader is a Fixer/PR and longtime friend of Pepper Potts. There’s literally two parts left and thats just sad.

PS: So i was sick the past week and i decided to google my symptoms (even though it was literally a cold), and i found out that there was a US President that died of a flu shortly after his inauguration and i have never valued modern medicine more in my entire life. Idk why im telling you guys this, it was literally in my head and i just felt like “hey. maybe they wanna know??” and here we are. we have a strong immune system that can withstand the illness that once killed a president. now thats a superpower. pow pow.

PPS: please ignore the PS

Scroll to the bottom for the next part

---

Bucky hated your assistant.

He loathed the poor guy more than he should have, more than he thought was possible. The random resumes that found their way through the slit at the bottom of your door, each one containing a female graduate far more qualified than the other, were just a small indicator of that.

You practically rotated around Jonah; wherever he was, there you were a few feet away and visa-versa. You had skipped morning jogs, always starting and ending your days in the boardroom amongst paperwork and your assistant. You were watching less Disney movies, spending less time with Morgan and the team, even Wanda had to drag you out of the boardroom just so you can drink coffee with her in the morning.

“You know, he makes her coffee now,” Wanda had said bitterly to Bucky, glaring at Jonah as he walked out of the kitchen with a fruit salad. “And he doesn’t even make it the way she likes it.”

Bucky frowned, turning in his bar stool to look at her, “you don’t make it the way she likes it.”

Red eyes glowered back at him, daring him to continue. “You starting to sound a lot like that walking lump of meat.”

“I’m not trying to offend you,” he raised his hands in surrender, “I’m just saying, she only drinks your coffee because she likes you.”

“Bullshit.” Her nose flared, “Bullshit and I’m gonna prove it!”

You had drunk her coffee and assured her that you liked the way she made it, told her not to listen to Bucky because you never did. Then your phone rang and you bolted out of the room before he could even say anything.

You weren’t you anymore, not the you that he was getting to know these past few months. You weren’t cooking with him anymore; your nights were strictly takeout nights. You weren’t scolding everyone like you used to, too occupied with whatever Jonah was saying or with whomever you were on the phone with to even cringe when Morgan clung to. You weren’t calling him a monument anymore and he was hating Jonah for it.

It was past midnight when he found you. You were sitting on the floor, barely awake, with papers scattered all around you and the TV on that news channel you always played in the background.

You jumped slightly when he sat down next to you, and that bugged him.

You let out a breath and laughed softly at your racing heart, with your hand on your chest, and that annoyed him.

You barely glanced at him when you said you thought he was sleeping, and that tipped the boiling pot.

“I made a list,” he said, one leg bent under the one stretched out behind you.

You nodded, focusing back on your laptop and the papers in front of you. “Are you gonna check it twice?” You retorted, “find out who’s naughty and nice?”

Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since he sat down. It had been days since your last encounter alone with him, you’d like to think that was the reason your stomach was knotting –given that your last encounter wasn’t a fond memory of yours – but you’ve known that sensation since his sea blue eyes met yours. Your heart had since forgotten its rhythm, beating at rates you couldn’t understand but accepted, nonetheless. The only problem now, was that you don’t remember how you smothered, how you ignored, those feelings before.

“I already checked it, and had Jarvis check it,” he said, his head tilting to the side a bit to get a clear view of your face, “but you haven’t interviewed them yet.”

“Jonah is irreplaceable.”

“The five years and three assistants you had when he dusted say otherwise.”

“Barnes—”

That’s not how you used to say it, he thought as he stared into the side of your face.

It used to sound so beautiful when you said it; so natural, so fluent. He couldn’t remember how many times he told people to call him ‘Bucky’, it was already an automatic response to being called anything else. But his tongue felt heavy every time you called him Barnes; his frostbitten heart warmed just a little, just enough to let him breathe again – live again. Suddenly, he didn’t want to correct you, to ask you to call him Bucky, because his last name had never sounded so good, so right, cloaked in your voice.

It would sound so much better, next to your name. He almost smiled at the thought.

Now, though, it sounded… worn. Like a part of it died when he fell of that train. Like it somehow survived the fall but wasn’t fully itself – in and out of consciousness – with only glimpses and fragments of what it used to be, pieces that were only scraped away with a rusted knife every moment they occurred.

“You might as well call me Soldat, if that’s how you’re gonna say my name,” the words left his lips before he could even stop them, acidic in their true form.

Because you said it in the same way you had once said Winter Soldier.

You visibly tensed, slowly turning to face him. You weren’t sure what to expect when you eventually looked at him, hostility perhaps – even blankness would have been acceptable. You certainly did not expect a sea of emotion staring back at you.

You glared into the kind of blue you never thought you’d like. “Don’t,” you began through gritted teeth, “don’t you ever say that to me, ever again.”

You didn’t want to feel the way you did whenever he was around, or whenever you thought of him. You had tried, countless of times, to rationalise it, make it into something you could understand. He was a monument of a man, you had tried to justify to yourself, a legend in the making. That had to be why you felt like your chest was going to explode with rage, why you couldn’t stop seeing red when you finished reading his files. It had to be because those timid blue eyes and that cheeky grin were forced behind a wall of ice, that the government was planning on putting him behind another inhumane wall, right? You were all sorts of angry because of the violations made by others, not because of the horrors suffered by him, right?

His blood was bluer than blue, because he was a war hero story waiting to be told. Not because you thought he was worth far more noble, far more royal, than any monarch.

He was Celestial-like because he lived through things no other human could, he survived terrors that people couldn’t even imagine. Not because he was the first person to ever make you believe in something… believe in him.

He was a monument, because… because, damn it, you had a thing for monuments and that had to be the reason you felt the way you do.

“Then don’t say it like that,” he fired back, moving an inch closer to you. “Say it like you used to.”

“I’m—”

“And get rid of him,” he interjected, reaching for your laptop and closing it.

“Jonah is not leaving.” You accentuated every word, glowering up at him. “That’s not even up for discussion.”

But you are, he wanted to say, you’re leaving me.

He shouldn’t feel like this about you. He wanted to believe that this, the feelings, was only temporary, was only one-sided. But he couldn’t. Not when his every decision, since he met you, revolved around whether you would approve. Not when his every thought, every word, every idea seems perfectly crafted to fit you in any and every way. Not when you let him rile you up – he’s watched your previous press conference; nothing gets under your skin. It couldn’t be one-sided, this unrelenting pull he feels towards you had to be reciprocated, especially when you’re staring at him like you just read his mind.

You weren’t Wanda, you couldn’t read minds, but you would have liked to. Especially when you swear you just witnessed an entire ocean dry up in those moody blues of his.

“Then what is?” His voice is softer, the knee of his bent leg laying just beneath you criss-crossed legs.

“What?” You breathed out, wondering when he had gotten so close so quickly. Was his file the one with super speed?

“What is up for discussion?” He clarified, removing the supporting hand to pluck the out of your hand and tossing it behind him. “Can we talk about how you’ve been avoiding me, since you passed out in the woods?”

You were staring into a filling ocean now, one that was filling rapidly and with hush waves you had never seen before.

“Can we talk about how you scared the shit out of me that night?”

They were relentless as they stared back, crushing into you so mercilessly that you thought you might drown.

“Can we talk about—” he swallowed, fighting to find the right words, “—what I want, for once?”

His hands were hot on your cheeks, your hands felt soft and delicate as they rested on his shoulders, your legs on either side of his. When had he moved you onto his lap?

“What?” You rasped out in confusion, unsure of how you ended up on his lap, unsure of why you wanted his hands back on your waist but still on your cheek.

Your chest was pressed to his, close but not close enough. “I wanna go back to that night,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. “I wanna go back to that moment, when it was just you and me. When you held onto me so tight, like you were scared I’d disappear if you let go. I wanna hold like that—”

“Ba—”

“I wanna hold you like that, every morning, so fucking close, so bloody tight—” his metal arm moved to wrap around your waist, hugging you closer to him, “I wanna wake up to you, in my arms, every time. Not just in the morning, in the middle of the night too, when you’re turning or when I just wake up because—” his right hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb gently treading below your bottom lip, “—because I… I wanna give you my last name, make it yours, put a ring on every one of your pretty little fingers. Maybe give you one or two of those babies you pretend not to like, fuck, sweetheart. I wanna know what you feel like—”

“Bucky,” you tried to warn him to stop, but it came out as more of a whine than a scold.

“I know,” he breathed out a short laugh, pressing his forehead against yours and shutting his eyes. “I just—” he swallowed, “—I wanna love you so fucking bad, give you everything, give you all of me and more. Because, fucking hell, you deserve it all. I wanna build you that monument you never shut up about, wanna make an honest woman out of you—”

His lips brushed yours accidently, at first, then tentatively – as if checking to see if you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you – and when you didn’t pull away, he went all in. And, damn it all to hell, your lips were softer than he had imagined, better, intoxicating. He didn’t want to stop, he kept pressing closer into him, even though there wasn’t a breath between you both. You didn’t think you could stop, not when it felt like this; like something you couldn’t place, but somehow knew what it was, and it was exactly what you had been lacking all these years.

“Lemme—” his right hand tangled into your hair, his attempt to bring you closer, “—love you, darling, I can love you good.”

Next part

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silver-lily-louise · 5 years

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I Believe the Children are Our Future

(A Shadowhunters fanfic)

Summary: ‘I bet you haven’t met any other warlocks, have you?’ The boy shakes his head. ‘In which case, I’d imagine you have a lot of questions. So… go ahead,’ he says, gesturing. ‘Ask away.’ Set shortly before 3x03. While Maryse and Robert finalise their divorce, Max stays at the loft for a few days. Magnus offers to answer some questions about warlocks, heritage, and love.

Many thanks to @aria-lerendeair, without whom this fic would not exist. <3

Read it on AO3, or below!

~oOo~

‘You’re sure it’s okay?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Because we can always-‘ ‘Alexander, he’s your brother. He’s welcome here.’ Magnus takes a brief moment to imagine what Ragnor would say about him letting not one, but two Shadowhunters sleep in his lair. But it’ll only be for a few days, of course, while the Lightwoods work out the details of their divorce – and with Jace and Izzy on night shifts, it’s either Max sleeping at the loft or Alec sleeping at the Institute, and Magnus definitely prefers the former.

He smiles. ‘Besides, I’ve seen what passes for breakfast in an Institute – what sort of monster would I be to let any child suffer through that?’ He gives an exaggerated shudder, and Alec rolls his eyes – but he’s smiling now, too, so Magnus will take the win.

***

Magnus gets home late that night. What had started as a ‘simple wards repair’ in Queens had quickly turned into an absolute nightmare – he was forced to begin with an honest-to-gods exorcism, followed by a purification ritual; and of course, when all of that was finally over, the property required a full wards replacement. After all, he had to make sure that the previous shoddy workmanship didn’t result in yet another poltergeist moving in.

Hearing that the TV’s still on, he banishes all thoughts of work and wanders into the living room – but his greeting dies on his lips, conquered by a slightly sappy smile at the sight before him.

Alec’s fast asleep, snoring softly. He’s got one arm around Max, who’s also sleeping soundly, burrowed into his brother’s side. The soft teal blanket Magnus leaves out for movie nights is draped over them both; it dwarfs them, making them look even younger than they are. Magnus waves his hand, and the TV fades out, sound and picture gradually diminishing into nothing. He’s about to go make a round of hot chocolates – he knows how to be a good host, and besides, he’s had a tough day himself – when a small voice catches his attention. ‘Mr. Bane?’

He turns back to the couch – Max is gently extricating himself from his brother’s hold, blinking owlishly up at Magnus. Magnus smiles, settling himself at the other end of the couch. ‘Max,’ he chides, keeping his voice low. ‘Didn’t I tell you we were friends? You can call me Magnus.’

Max nods, his expression still serious. ‘Okay. Magnus. I’m sorry I asked how much of you is a demon. I didn’t mean to be rude, but Mom told me later that it was.’ Magnus blinks, a little surprised. That’s a lot more consideration than he’s used to from Maryse Lightwood. ‘Oh. Well, apology accepted, Max. You weren’t to know.’

An idea springs to mind, and Magnus settles a little more fully into the couch. ‘I bet you haven’t met any other warlocks, have you?’ The boy shakes his head. ‘In which case, I’d imagine you have a lot of questions. So… go ahead,’ he says, gesturing. ‘Ask away.’

Max stares at him for a moment, clearly torn. ‘I don’t wanna say the wrong thing again,’ he explains. ‘We all say the wrong thing sometimes, Max,’ Magnus says kindly. ‘It’s how we learn. How about this – I promise that if you ask something I’m uncomfortable with, I’ll tell you. I won’t get mad, but we’ll move on. Deal?’

Max nods, and Magnus returns it. ‘Okay, good. So, to start with your first question – I’m half-demon. My mother was a mundane, and my father was a demon.’

Max’s eyes go wide, but he just says, ‘Oh. Okay.’ Magnus smiles. ‘I know it sounds like a lot, but it’s mostly just the magic that’s the demon part. Which means that it’s mostly the mundane, human part that determines who I am as a person.’ It’s not the full story, of course, because things are never that black and white. But it’s a rationalisation he came to a long time ago – he worked hard to step out of Asmodeus’ footsteps, and long before Ragnor and Catarina and Dot, it was in mundanes he’d found kindness. He’d like to think that as a person, he’s got more in common with those mundanes than he has with his father.

‘How old are you?’ Max asks. ‘I don’t know,’ Magnus confesses, chuckling quietly at Max’s boggled expression. ‘About seven-hundred and seventy, I think? Honestly, I lost count about a hundred years ago.’ Max nods sagely. ‘That makes sense. I tried to count to five-hundred the other day, and it took me four tries.’ Magnus suppresses another laugh at that. Lightwood stubbornness really is genetic, it would seem.

‘If demons are evil – ‘ Max cuts himself off, suddenly looking unsure of himself again, but it’s not too hard to fill in the blanks. ‘Does that make warlocks evil?’ A meek nod. ‘Well, let me ask you a question – do you think I’m evil?’ ‘No,’ Max says, very quickly. ‘I think you’re nice.’

Magnus feels his smile grow. ‘Thank you, Max. Okay, another question; your brother – although we both know that he’s an idiot sometimes – ‘ he winks conspiratorially, and Max laughs – ‘is nonetheless a very capable, smart Shadowhunter, and the Head of the New York Institute. Do you think he would have an evil boyfriend?’ ‘No,’ Max says again, before frowning in consideration. ‘Izzy probably would, but Alec wouldn’t.’ ‘Hmm.’ If Magnus has to hold in much more laughter, he’s going to end up with a hernia. ‘Well, then, I’d say you have your answer.’

There’s silence for a few moments, and Magnus is about to make the offer of hot chocolate, when Max asks, ‘You love him, right?’ Magnus glances up at Alec, feeling himself melt a little. ‘Yes,’ he murmurs. ‘Very much so. He’s very special to me.’ ‘So are you going to marry him?’

The question shocks him more than it probably should. It’s early days, to be sure, but Max’s childhood logic is right, in a way – isn’t that the usual progression when two people love each other? ‘I don’t know,’ Magnus says honestly. ‘It’s not just up to me, after all; and though I love him very much, we haven’t known each other that long. But one day? If it was what we both wanted?’ He smiles, voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Yes, I’d marry him.’

Max seems satisfied, barrelling on to the subject he was clearly building to. ‘Okay, well – when you get married, can you pick comfier chairs?’ He gives a long-suffering sigh. ‘Izzy said the ones at the other wedding were pretty, and apparently they went with Lydia’s dress and Alec’s suit. But they were really uncomfortable. And we weren’t looking at the chairs anyway, we were sitting on them.’

‘Good point,’ Magnus agrees, grinning. ‘How about this? If we get married, you can be in charge of picking the chairs,’ he offers.

Max nods, but doesn’t say anything else – and it’s at that point that Magnus notices how he’s leaning back against his brother again, his eyelids drooping. ‘Why don’t you go to bed, hmm?’ Magnus says softly, getting to his feet. ‘You’ll sleep better there.’ He steps forward, aiming to take Max’s hand – but as soon as he leans down, Max wraps his skinny arms around Magnus’ neck instead, letting his eyes fall completely closed.

Magnus swallows the lump in his throat, a little overwhelmed by the show of trust. ‘Alright,’ he whispers. ‘Come on, then.’

He carries Max through to the spare bedroom, moving silently through the apartment. Max doesn’t rouse again. Not when Magnus puts him down, not when he pulls the covers over him – not even when he gently strokes his hair and murmurs, ‘Sleep well, Max.’

Magnus shuts the door with no more than a gentle click, and then makes his way back over to the couch, sitting back down next to Alexander. ‘So. How much of that did you hear?’

On the other end of the couch, one eye cracks open. ‘How did you know I was awake?’ Alec mumbles. ‘No snoring.’ That earns him a glare, and Magnus laughs. ‘Now, I believe I asked my question first?’

Alec shrugs, stretching broadly and stifling a yawn. ‘Not sure. I heard you call me an idiot.’ ‘Well, then you also heard me call you smart and capable,’ Magnus points out, turning to face Alec more fully, tucking his legs up on the couch. ‘So I’m not feeling too guilty about that.’

Alec huffs a laugh. Magnus glances away for a moment, something else occurring to him. ‘I hope the, ah… wedding talk didn’t freak you out. I know we haven’t really spoken about it yet.’ When he looks back up, Magnus is confronted by an incredulous pair of raised eyebrows. ‘Right, yeah,’ Alec says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That would freak me out. After all, we usually move so slowly in this relationship, and I was so subtle the other day when I told you you’d be a good dad.’

Magnus chuckles, and Alec drops the act, a fond smile taking over his expression. ‘For the record, though?’ he says softly. ‘We’re on the same page.’

Magnus returns the smile, feeling oddly warm inside. ‘Alright. Good to know.’ He stands up with a groan, pulling Alec to his feet, too, and leaving the blanket bundled on the couch. ‘Come on. Bed.’ ‘What, I don’t get carried?’ Alec teases.

Magnus narrows his eyes – and a second later, he’s swept Alec up into a bridal carry. ‘Magnus!’ Alec yelps, his arms automatically looping around Magnus’ neck. ‘I was kidding, put me down, I’m too heavy-‘ ‘Oh please,’ Magnus interrupts, rolling his eyes as he starts towards the master bedroom. ‘Do I seem like I’m struggling, here? I assure you, Alexander – if my back was going to give out, it would have done it at least two centuries ago.’

Alec seems to digest that for a moment, before settling properly into Magnus’ arms. ‘Alright,’ he says, still cautious – but a moment later he’s smirking, leaning closer. ‘I guess those muscles aren’t just for show,’ he whispers, hot breath tickling Magnus’ ear. ‘Of course not,’ Magnus says, keeping his voice low, playful and dangerous. ‘Maybe tomorrow, when you’re not so tired, I can remind you of just what else they’re useful for.’

Alexander’s eyes fall shut again, and his quiet, half-asleep laughter is a thing of beauty.

~oOo~

#shadowhunters fanfic #shtv #magnus bane #max lightwood #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shs #malec #mine #racism mention #btw the title is from 'greatest love of all' by whitney houston

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illfoandillfie · 5 years

Note

uhh i’m having an awful day and in the mood to cry!! i loved the prompt list too much to not request. angst 12 and 32? thank you b

Okay this is very late so I hope you’re not still having an awful day lmao but here’s some angsty stuff anyway! I went with Brian cause you didn’t specify who.

A12 - “I wish I’d never laid eyes on you.” + A32 -“Don’t apologise; I know you don’t mean it.”

600 followers celebration blurb prompts

~~~

The sound of Brian’s snores spread through the room asyou quietly cleaned up. He’d had you three times last night, before you’d bothcollapsed, exhausted, and was still out like a light. You however had woken uptwo hours ago. You’d lay in bed for a little while, debating with yourselfwhether waking him was worthwhile but ultimately decided to just let him sleep.Instead you’d got up and had a shower, scrubbing the previous night off yourskin, tracing each one of the bite marks he’d left on your neck and shouldersas you looked at yourself in the mirror. Then you’d gone down to the kitchen,made some tea and toast and read the paper as you had your breakfast. Afterthat you hadn’t been quite sure what to do. You gave the kitchen a once over,putting away the dry dishes on the rack and washing out your teacup. You’d goneto do the same in the living room but it was still tidy from where you’d fixedit up yesterday when Brian called to say he was coming over. The most you coulddo was straighten some cushions that had been disrupted when Brian hadstretched out and pulled you on top of him, actions that had led to a heatedmake out which led to the aforementioned three times.

With the intention of checking if Brian was stillasleep you headed back to the bedroom and decided you’d clean up the clothesscattered over the floor. Yours went straight into the laundry hamper but youdidn’t think there’d be time to wash and dry Brian’s clothes before he had toleave. You picked up his shirt and folded it into a neat square, laying it onthe top of your dresser so he’d be able to find it when he woke. You were goingto do the same with his pants but as you picked them up something fell out ofhis pocket and rolled across the carpet. Quietly as possible you scurried toretrieve it, not realising what it was until it was in your hand. A weddingring. Your first thought was that’s an odd thing to carry around. Yoursecond was straight panic that Brian was gearing up to propose – you hadn’tbeen together long enough to consider it and he’d never so much as mentionedmarriage before. Your third was the calming realisation that it couldn’t be foryou, it wasn’t in a box for one, just loose in his pocket and beside it was aman’s ring, definitely not for you. And then you were back to odd. Ittook you a few more moments of staring at it, brain whirring as it tried tocome up with a reasonable excuse as to why he was carrying this particular itemaround. And then it hit you. It was his. Your gut twisted, a cold dread washingover you as you began to realise the full extent of what it meant. There was noother explanation. Unsure of what to do you put the ring back in his pocket,folded the pants, and left them on top of his shirt. And then you backed out ofthe room quietly. If you couldn’t sit still before there was no hope of it now.You paced the house, walking from room to room trying to rationalise it all inyour head.

You were startled from your thoughts as Brian, fullydressed, wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his lips into yourneck.

“Morningsweetheart,” his voice was still rough with sleep, a sound that usually madeyou melt. He pressed another kiss to your neck, over top of one of thebitemarks he’d given you, “These are nice,” he kissed another one, “suit you,”another, closer to your shoulder, “I hope they wont be too hard for you tocover up.”

Youfroze in his arms, skin crawling with every touch of his lips.

“Hey, what’sthe matter? Is something wrong?” he let go of you, spinning you round to facehim so he could examine your face for any hint of why you weren’t respondingthe way you usually would.

“Youdidn’t tell me you were married.”

“I-,”he was stunned, blinking at you like he couldn’t register what you were sayingas words. Eventually he sighed, “How’d you find out?”

“Ifound your ring.”

“Shit,I, fuck, I normally wouldn’t even bring it with me,” He was almost laughing ashe spoke, “but I left in a rush yesterday and forgot I was wearing it. Onlyrealised when I was standing on your doorstep. Jesus I fucked up. You weren’tever supposed to know.”

“Iwasn’t supposed to know? Is that meant to make me feel better?”

“Doesit?”

“Notin the slightest. I’m not….I don’t…”

“What?Not the type to sleep with a married man?”

“GodI feel sick,” you dropped your head to your hands, feeling like you could throwup and cry and scream all at once.

“Hey,look at me,” he tilted your head up gently, looking at you softly, “I’m sorry.I just…things with her aren’t good. We’re working on separating but it’scomplicated. I feel terrible about keeping it from you, I’m so sorry.”You’dheard Brian apologise before. For small things like when he burnt the toast hewas making you or when he stepped on your foot while you danced in the livingroom. And for bigger things like when he knocked over the china figurine yourgrandma had given you before she passed. He’d apologised repeatedly for thatone, doing everything he could to try and make up for it. So you could tellthat this apology wasn’t sincere. It felt like he was saying it because he knewit was expected, not because he was actually sorry. “Y/N?I’m baring my soul here, trying to apologise. Can you please say something?”

Youstared at him for a moment before you spoke, your voice even and calm despitethe nausea you felt, “Don’t apologise; I know you don’t mean it.”

Brianlooked at you with that same soft expression that was meant to make you forgivehim and then his whole demeanour changed. He dropped his arm from your face,crossing them over his chest instead.

“You’reright. I’m not sorry about keeping this secret, only that you found out abouther. Add it to the list of things she’s fucking ruined for me.”

“Thisis entirely your fault Brian. You must have realised I wouldn’t have gotinvolved if I’d known you were fucking married. Otherwise why hide it?”

“Tobe fair I never expected things to go this long with you. You were meant to bea one time thing.”

“What?”

“Yeah,I only went to that bar looking for a one night stand. But you slipped me yournumber and christ I couldn’t stop thinking about your cunt. How fucking tight it was and how willing you were. She was pregnant and wouldn’t let anywhere near her. So I called. Andthen I called again. Not really like we did much talking at the start anyway. Wouldit help if I said she cheated on me first?”

“No,no it fucking wouldn’t,” you managed to splutter through the horror you felt.

“Spose not. That’d have been another lie anyway. As far as I know at least.All I know is she barely fucks me, always saying she’s too tired from lookingafter the kids. It’s why I’ve had to go elsewhere.”

“Youhave kids? Plural?” you’re almost breathless as he hits you with yet another gut punch.Every time he opens his mouth he says something else to make you feelcompletely awful. You remember the marks that cover your neck and you want toclaw at your skin until they’re gone, until you can’t feel him on you anymore.“Yeah,it’s why we haven’t got divorced yet. I love my kids but fuck they make itcomplicated.”“Andhaving a side piece isn’t complicated?”“Notreally. Not until you went snooping where you shouldn’t have been.”“I’mgoing to throw up. Fucking kids and a wife.”“Oh,grow up. This shit happens all the time, you’re not the first girl I’ve done this with. You have lasted the longest though. Might have been able to make it work proper once the divorce was finalised.”

“Iwish I’d never laid eyes on you.”

Herolled his eyes, “Right now, honey, the feelings fucking mutual.”

#my writing #my blurbs #brian may x reader #angst fic #idk #this one took me a million years to come up with #crookedcomedian #600 followers

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antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx · 5 years

Text

I posted my previous reply to the wrong blog, and then found I was blocked on this one, so uh. Shit. Here’s the reply.

“however, because huge swaths of fandom (ugh) fail to actually underpin their opinions with any concrete understanding of… anything, really, but especially the mechanisms that drive systemic oppression, you get people mobilizing the ideals of “freedom” and the language of “social justice” in order to completely erase the fact that, yeah, there absolutely are huge piles of fics that in an ideal world should be burned to the ground.”

Mmmm, no. You don’t get to say that and then act like you’ve got a solid foundation to your points. I mean, not that I’m going to be particularly keen on thinking an argument is in good faith when you can’t even say fandom without air quotes. Yes, it’s called fandom. I’m sorry? I thought cringe culture was dead.

You should never, never advocate for the burning of fiction. I’m sure you’re joking, or at the very least I hope you are, but an ideal world does not burn books. Unless you’re comfortable living in an ideal world that shares methodology with fascist dictatorships, because book burning -- metaphorical or otherwise -- is the first step in running one. Or haven’t you been noticing the influx of Chinese users to AO3? It’s the only place that’s not burning them in their country.

There is no unchecked swath of illegal fanfic on AO3. The OTW has its very own legal team. Of fully licensed, not black market, professionally educated lawyers. Under U.S. jurisdiction (AO3 is subject to this jurisdiction), everything within the guidelines and terms of use on the site is absolutely, 100% legal. That doesn’t mean people will never post illegal content there, but people post illegal content on Facebook, and Tumblr, and Twitter, and every internet hive of scum and villainy available. Even the most vile, disgusting, sickening fanfiction published is 100% legal. Because we all have the legal right to write whatever fictional scenario we please. And I’m sure I’ll get called Enlightened Centrist for bringing up the freeze peach, but in a purely legal context, this is all protected under the very first amendment to the U.S. constitution.

If we move to talk about terms of purely social responsibility, that’s a different and more nuanced conversation. But let the legal conversation be made very clear. Fanfiction is not illegal. If Lolita is on your library shelves, Karen’s Kuroshitsuji shota fic on an internet archive somewhere that doesn’t market itself as an accessible location for toddlers to the eldery is hardly a breach of legality. Or morality, in fact. Which brings us to...

Is said Kuroshitsuji shota fic written by Karen McBasic perpetuating pedophile apologist rhetoric? Not more than Steven Universe is perpetuating facist apologist rhetoric. Not more than Stephen King is personally responsible for any murder or rape inspired by his works. Or more than JD Salinger is a serial murder apologist for having written Catcher in the Rye, a book which inspired multiple murders (despite not even depicting murder, which really does prove that anything can inspire anything else in a sick enough mind). And I’m not saying every single work depicting underage sex was written by purely innocent-intentioned, pedophile-hating saints, because of course creeps and actual pedophiles have sat down and written stories with the intention of normalising it for themselves. But people with dangerous impulses have been rationalising their feelings since the dawn of dangerous impulses. And people. So coming after fanfiction, which yes, punch me if you will (despite me being a queer survivor of an abusive relationship, hardly the creepy straight white middle-aged woman-demon fandom elder of nightmares), is a primarily queer space, is hardly going to stop the abuse and exploitation of children. And it’s hardly going to stop the abuse and exploitation of children in fandom, either. Because fandom exists beyond AO3. And fandom exists beyond Tumblr. And fandom has existed since fictional stories have been spread in human culture, which is approximately since humans began to communicate. And fandom is just one tool in a toolbox that consists of everything that exists in tangible reality for abusers to use in manipulating and hurting their victims. All it’s going to do is promote censorship in one of the only open, previously-welcoming spaces for queer people and other marginalised groups -- including the survivors who are trying to work through their trauma using fiction. Especially including the CSA and other abuse (hi!!! I’m right fucking here!!!) survivors who do not want you punching people on their behalf, because they use this very medium as a way of healing.

You should certainly say fiction has an impact on reality, because it does. And you should absolutely say writing harmful tropes in fiction is not a move primed to stop the reinforcement and validation of societal biases, because it isn’t. But you cannot start holding people accountable for the actions of abusers unless they are, in fact, that very abuser themselves. You can argue for the basic human decency of being aware of the content you produce and its impact, but I’m afraid making that argument in fandom spaces is rather like telling an English teacher to be aware of grammar mistakes. We know. Why do you think we have meta? Or content tags? Because your local library doesn’t have trigger warnings, extensive tagging or blacklisting systems, or multiple warning pages you must manually disable telling you what work has adult content. It has a separate section for each genre, that any impressionable child (a demographic which is encouraged to come to libraries everywhere!!!!) is free to wander through and grab whatever copy of Flowers in the Attic happens to be in sight. Content warnings are optional in libraries. Content warnings are not optional on AO3.

#long post

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iveonlyeverseenliketwoanimes · 6 years

Text

Manga Spoilers ahead :)

So when the new chapters came out I, like many others, was a little annoyed at this whole concept of Deku magically having a bunch of new quirks. I understand that it's been established from the beginning that One For All works as this whole ‘passing on of power’ - but I always understood it as more of an energy than actual individual quirks (and the content given thus far seemed to support this). That said now that is turning out to be the latter, it isn’t something that's caught me off-guard and it very much does make sense and I don’t think it’s ‘Lazy writing’ on Hori’s part, it just hasn’t been explained up until now and if we had learnt how One For All worked all in one single episode at the start of the series I think it wouldn't be as fun of a journey.

One of my main concerns with what's happening is this whole idea of Deku becoming some all-powerful God that no-one can beat, because, lets face it, as powerful as characters like Bakugou and Todoroki are, i don’t think even they would be able to compare to a guy that has a combined total of like 7 quirks, all of which have been cultivated into one massive super-quick that has been held by the former number 1 Pro Hero, so is clearly very powerful.

So that got me thinking. Why would this happen? Why would a show, that up until now, has been very good with balancing the power levels of its quirks suddenly do a full 180 and just be like ‘Oh yes lil broccoli boi and his rabbit costume can now become God and just breathe in the general direction of his opponents in order to win’?

So, I have a couple points I’d just like to discuss. Feel free to add on anything or challenge my views, im just doing this because im bored and trying to rationalise the decisions in a show made for teenage boys.

So first of i think some people are being a lil bit dramatic about this current arc, sure it’s not perfect and I too wish that some things had played out differently, but at the end of the day it’s not my show/manga and tbh if the guy who made me fall in love with this show to begin with decides he wants to take it in a new direction then let him, he has every right to do what he wants regardless of what i, or anyone else, think and i put my trust in his hands and hope that he can pull this off. Furthermore, are we forgetting that Todoroki exists? The guy has not one, but 2, of the most powerful quirks i think i person could get. His dad is the current number 1 hero and HALF of Todorki’s power is the same as his (sure his maybe works a lil different but my statement stands). Now Ice and Fire, in my opinion, are two very powerful quirks, i mean at like 15/16 the kid took down a dozen or so villans and nearly stopped Nomu (With half his power and with no real training from UA). We compare that to what Deku has and i still think Todoroki has a fighting chance in a match against Deku because these quirks Deku is getting aint all that to be honest, some people are acting like Deku now has; super strength, super speed, telekinesis, can see into the future, mind control, laser eyes, the ability to fully heal on the spot etc. spoiler: He doesn’t. He’s getting some pretty average quirks that will still probably make him top of the class, but not unbeatable. I think some of you are a lil dramatic, and hey i get it, i said at the start i was too, so i feel ya. So, i guess my first point is that some of us need to calm down and maybe just wait until we get more details on the whole situation before we get out our pitchforks and start burning down the fandom over a couple chapters that haven't been fully explored yet.

My second point that actually has more to do with the plot and less about fandom drama is going back to Bakugou and Todoroki, so my initial thought when everything was happening was “ Bakugou and Todoroki are the other strong members of the class and Deku is now way more powerful than them, how will they ever beat him?” but now actually thinking about it, what does that have to do with anything? Like sure the show is centred around the whole school system and the magical friendships we’re making along the way, but like, Deku’s end goal here isn't to send Todoroki and Bakugou to their graves, they’re just class rivals, and while they do fight, it’ s not to actually kill each other - its to train. Now i’m just going to make a big ol’ assumption here based on basic human nature, but when you train with someone vs when you are actually fighting a villain in a life and death scenario, i don't think you’re going to be fighting at the same effort level. Todoroki vs Deku and Bakugou vs Todoroki were great fights (or at least they were in my opinion) but you compare them to the UA kids vs Stain and you have two very different circumstances and the fights we’re very different for obvious reasons. One was to win a silly little medal and bragging rights. One was to save a friend from literally being murdered by some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lookin’ dude with no nose. I don’t really think Deku’s new powers will affect the class stuff too much, it’s been established that both Todoroki and Bakugo are more powerful and Deku already and the three of them will never go all out vs each other anyway. So basically my point here is that Bakugou and Todoroki aren’t Deku’s endgame - they’re Deku’s rivals and they’ll be around the whole time, but they’re not Deku’s Villian. So this idea that Deku is now the Number 1 is the clas, while true, really doesn’t matter because Deku is still... Deku and he wants to save people more than he wants to kill them or prove he is the best.

Now children, who is Deku’s Villian? any guesses? Oh yeah, it’s my boy Shiggy (AKA Tomura Shigaraki, AKA Tenko Shimura, AKA Crusty, AKA Get this man some lip balm). Now then. So we have our lil Deku, a young boy of just 16 who has been blessed with 300 new magical quirks (well it's more like 6/7 but that's beside the point here). But who else do we know that probably does actually maybe, kinda, definitely, literally, but also i don't really know, but i think, DOES HAVE 300 QUIRKS?!? It’s none other than Shigaraki’s Master, Mr suit, tie and no face, All For One. Now in one of the recent episodes of the Anime, All Might questions why All For One wants/needs a successor, to which he gives a lil giggle, chats some shit and basic says he wants someone to pass on his legacy to, in the same way that All Might has with Deku. Now I couldn’ t find this exact conversation in the Manga so it might be that the Anime went a lil off script here for drama and whatnot, but when i heard this i was convinced that this meant All For One is going to somehow transfer his quirk into Shigaraki (or maybe take over Shigarakis body or some other nasty stuff - in this world anything is possible), this is also kinda supported by All For One giving a lil giggle to the concept of him being ‘ locked up for the rest of his days’ - the guy clearly thinks he is going to get out and i highly doubt that his current state will allow for him the fight Deku, i certainly do not want to see the lil green troll doll fight a crippled elderly man, but i would like to see him fight a handsome, young, slightly anti-social, gamer nerd.

So we make it to the end of my lil tale, Deku needs to have all these quirks because his Endgame is Shigaraki and Shigaraki might also be getting a power upgrade in the future and it makes sense, as i don't think some green lightning sparks will defeat some grand-evil mastermind with the powers of all that's evil in this world.... but some black beams that can wrap around stuff might...?

Anyways, i wrote this over the span of two hours, its midnight and i did minimal research into this theory... BUt HEY ITS JUST A THEORY! A GAME ANIME THEORY! And im probably wrong about all of it and also im so sorry for all the sarcastic comments throughout this, i couldn’t contain myself. Im now going to sleep for the next 10 hours because this stressed me out :)

If you’d like to see more of my rambles then heres one on Hori’s female characters

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downn-in-flames · 5 years

Text

like a deer in headlights

One short little road trip, that's all it is.

One short little eight hour road trip in a tiny car with the girl he's been in love with since his first year of uni. Nothing to worry about, really.

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One short little road trip, that's all it is.

One short little eight hour road trip in a tiny car with the girl he's been in love with since his first year of uni. Nothing to worry about, really.

It was her idea, actually. James had been all set to just buy a plane ticket from London to Edinburgh - why Sirius and Remus insisted on a "destination" wedding in the same city they'd all attended school in is beyond him, but that's beside the point - and before he'd had the chance to book a flight, Lily had texted him, proposing the idea of driving up there together.

It'd be fun, she'd said. We haven't seen each other in ages and it'll be a nice way to catch up.

Apparently, her idea of 'catching up' involves spending eight uninterrupted hours alone with each other.

James can count on one hand the number of times they've hung out as just the two of them - all of them in uni, and none of them for anywhere near this much time.

He's definitely more than a little freaked out about it, which is, quite frankly, ridiculous if he thinks about it rationally. He's not exactly trying to make a good first impression or anything (he'd botched that one well and good six years ago) and they spent quite a lot of time together at uni, even if they were almost always with Sirius and Remus and Peter. This shouldn't be all that different.

But James also knows that he's got a fantastic tendency to make an idiot out of himself - something he hoped he'd grow out of once he hit his twenties but never quite did - and a confined space with just him and a girl he's fancied for years seems like a foolproof recipe for that idiocy to make a reappearance.

He's probably prepared for this trip a little... too well. His car is immaculate (scarily so, really, what kind of psychopath doesn't have anything in their centre console?), there are snacks and water in the backseat for the both of them, and he's got a playlist full of artists Lily loved in uni (that he not-so-secretly enjoyed as well) at the ready.

So as he parks in front of the address she'd texted to him last week and pulls his phone out to shoot her a quick text that he's here, he continues giving himself a mental pep talk to prepare for the hours ahead.

Honestly, he's going to be fine. Yeah, she's wonderful and brilliant and he spent the better part of three years making a fool of himself in front of her, but he's over that, for the most part. She's just a girl he liked in uni, but they've grown apart since then and surely she's not as -

The front door of her building opens, and whatever rationalisation had been going through James' mind comes to a stuttering halt. He's not sure if he'd just forgotten what she looked like or if she'd somehow gotten more gorgeous since they graduated, but… fuck.

Her auburn hair, which once fell to her waist in loose waves, has been chopped to shoulder-length, and she's got it in that same half-up, half-down style she wore so often at school. She's wearing a shirt that looks like it's from last year's Camden Pub Crawl tucked into high-waisted jean shorts, fully showing off her long, freckled legs.

And there's just something about the way that she carries herself, shoulders back and eyes bright, that projects a level of confidence he doesn't quite think she had a few years ago.

It has his heart doing all sorts of pathetic things all over again.

Maybe he's not actually over her.

She's got a light purple duffel bag thrown over her shoulder and a garment bag on her arm, and James remembers at the last possible minute that he needs to open the boot of his car for her to put her stuff in.

With literally anyone else, he'd get out of the car and help them load their bags - his mother would be appalled if she knew that he wasn't practising the 'gentlemanly manners' she'd instilled into him from the day he was born - but he knows Lily, and he knows that she'll insist on doing it herself anyways.

She's always had a massive independent streak - coupled with a distaste for anything remotely resembling a patriarchal norm - and it's one of the many (many) things he likes about her.

When she opens the passenger door, she's got a cheeky sort of smile that, were his heart not already hammering out a frantic rhythm in his chest, would definitely send his pulse skyrocketing.

Goddammit, she's so pretty.

"You didn't even offer to load my bag for me," she observes as she slides into the seat across from him. "What on earth would Euphemia say about that?"

"Euphemia probably still remembers the last time I tried that and you immediately smacked my hands away," he retorts, a smirk growing on his face to match her own, even though he's already been thinking about the fact that his mum would, in fact, give him a hard time for it.

"She did tell me later that she'd thought it was funny to see you put in your place like that," Lily muses as she puts her seatbelt on.

His mum had indeed gotten quite a laugh out of it, James recalls. She, Remus, and Peter had come to visit him and Sirius for a week in the summer after their first year, and James' mum had immediately become positively enamoured with both Lily and Remus, and proceeded to spend the remainder of the summer telling both James and Sirius respectively how wonderful they both were, in a not-so-subtle 'you would be perfect together and I want them as my child-in-law' sort of way.

Well, she'd gotten her wish with Sirius, at least.

He realises he's been quiet for far too long, and she's still grinning at him and probably expecting him to say something back to her. He runs his fingers through his hair - a nervous habit of his that he's never really been able to break - and asks, almost on autopilot, "Alright, Evans?"

She laughs at that, no doubt remembering the countless times he'd greeted her that exact way in school. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?" And after a brief pause, "You look good."

He's almost positive he misheard her at first, but the faint pink spreading across her cheeks - at least, he doesn't think he's imagining it - is proof that he heard her right.

"Er, you too," he manages, stumbling over his words and almost immediately mentally berating himself for it. How the hell is he so smooth sometimes and an absolute fucking disaster at others?

If she catches on to his awkwardness though, she doesn't show it. "How's work? Are you still at Sleekeazy's?"

When he'd graduated uni, with a degree in English Literature of all things that he had no idea how to apply in the real world, he'd panicked and taken the first job available to him - which just so happened to be in the marketing department of his dad's massive haircare company.

It turned out he kind of enjoyed the marketing aspect, but working for a hair company was… not his thing, to say the least.

"Nah, I left that about a year and a half ago," he tells her. "Now I'm working as a deputy communications director for a small nonprofit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he answers, finally shifting the car into gear so that they can start off on this eight-hour journey of theirs. "It's all about providing resources for homeless LGBTQ youth - I don't know if you've ever seen Albus Dumbledore in a news article or anything, but it's his organisation."

"Wait, oh my god, I read his book last year!" Lily says, almost excitedly. "He's incredible, and the work he's doing for those kids is awesome."

"Yeah, he's a pretty solid guy," he confirms. "I really like it - I feel like I'm actually doing something good in the world, you know? And I just - god, so many of those kids remind me of Sirius as a teenager, except without anywhere to go when their parents kicked them out."

He's still not over the way Sirius was treated as a teenager, the way he'd arrived at the Potter's doorstep one January night during sixth form, shivering from the cold and sporting a massive bruise along the side of his face. He's pretty positive that, if he ever comes across any of Sirius' piece-of-shit homophobic family members ever again, he's not going to be able to fight back the urge to punch them right in the jaw, even though he knows that wouldn't accomplish anything.

But this… doing what he does now, it feels like accomplishing something.

"Hm, I'm surprised Remus never said anything about you changing jobs whenever you came up in conversation," Lily muses.

… They talk about him? Lily talks about him?

"I dunno," he says, flipping his turn signal on to turn left on Hendon. "Are you still working as a researcher for that ecological reserve?"

He already knows the answer is 'yes' - he'd panicked and called Remus almost immediately after Lily had proposed this whole road trip thing, and asked him for basically everything he knew about Lily since graduation - but he figures he'll ask the question anyways. Lily doesn't have to know that he's been a bit of a nervous wreck about this road trip, after all.

"I am," she answers cheerfully. "Still spending most of my day hanging out with frogs instead of humans."

"Well, good to know at least one of us actually found a good way to apply our degree," he jokes.

"Please," she replies, and from the tone of her voice alone, James can tell that she's both smiling and looking at him reproachfully all at once. "Don't tell me you don't still throw random literary references into everyday conversation."

He wracks his brain for an appropriate one to say in response, and goes with the first thing that comes to mind. " 'A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.' "

She laughs brightly. "Some things never change." She pauses for a moment, then adds, "Fuck, what's that from? I feel like I should know it, but…"

"Dickinson." he answers, filling in the gap left by her silence.

"Oh, didn't you write a whole essay on how she was probably a lesbian at one point?" she asks.

"No," James defends immediately, immediately thinking back to the incident she's referring to. "Sirius used find and replace to replace every single instance of the word 'literary' with 'lesbian' in one of my final essays that term, and I only noticed ten minutes before I was set to turn it in."

"You should've kept it that way," she tells him. "I feel like most literature tutors would eat that shit right up."

James shrugs. "Honestly, you're probably right."

They fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but it quickly becomes a bit more uncomfortable when it's just the hum of the car's engine and the sounds of the city around them.

"Do you have any music?" Lily asks finally.

He honestly can't believe he'd somehow forgotten about the playlist entirely - there'd just been something about talking to her, catching up and immediately feeling like almost no time had passed at all, that had completely wiped his mind of everything else. "Oh. Yeah," he replies, grabbing his phone out of the cupholder and unlocking it. "There's a road trip playlist on my Spotify - just turn that on."

"You have a whole road trip playlist?" she asks, taking the phone from him and navigating to his Spotify app. "Oh god, this is brilliant."

She hits play, and is already singing along on the first note. "I promise that you'll never find another like me!"

And he finds himself thinking that no, he definitely won't.

***

They're less than an hour out of the city, driving along the M1, when James decides to make their first stop of the day.

"I don't know about you," James says to Lily, who's been alternating between singing along to the music playing through the speakers and exchanging stories about their lives since graduation, "but I desperately need some coffee right about now and there's a Costa coming up."

"Still addicted to caffeine, are we?" she teases.

"Not as bad as I was in uni," he replies. "I don't get four espresso shots in my lattes anymore, at the very least."

"Probably for the best," she agrees.

"Do you still only drink those Belgian Chocolate Frostinos in the summer?" he asks, remembering just how many times he and Sirius had ribbed her for her 'wimpy' taste in coffee beverages.

"Don't say that with such a tone of disdain," she shoots back. "They're basically a coffee milkshake - how could you not like that? But also, I can't believe you still remember my coffee order."

He's not sure he could forget anything about her - even something as simple as her (terrible) coffee order - even if he tried. But he tries to play it off without acknowledging just how many little details about her that he's got memorised. "Your shit taste in coffee is pretty hard to forget."

"Those are fighting words, James Potter," she replies playfully. "And here I was about to offer to pay for your coffee since you're the one driving - but now you've come for Frostinos in a way I can't accept."

"They're not bad," he retorts. "They're just a weak drink."

"Ah right, because you're the expert on strong drinks. It's not like you were too scared to shoot tequila until our third year or anything like that."

He doesn't point out that he still hates shooting tequila to this day, and will only do it when he's already sufficiently plastered as to not remember his distaste for them. "Yeah, well, if you recall correctly, there was one night our first year where I was the only one who didn't do three rounds of tequila shots, and coincidentally was also the only one who didn't end up puking in the bushes in George Square Gardens."

"And you missed an important rite of passage in that moment," she informs him seriously, just as they're pulling into the Costa Coffee.

"Somehow, I don't feel all that deprived," he replies, parking and turning the car off.

She laughs. "Well, you can't miss what you've never had."

They both get out of the car, falling into step on their way into the café. And he's kind of surprised, in that moment, to realise just how easy all of this has been. The way they've fallen into conversation and good-natured teasing so easily makes it seem like it's only been hours since they last saw one another, not years. Being with her is almost effortless - sans the few times she's nearly made him forget how to breathe - and he's…

Fuck, he's not even a little bit over her.

One hour in a car is apparently all he needed to go right back to being head over heels for her, which is only slightly alarming; at this rate, he'll probably be ready to propose marriage by the time they get to Edinburgh in seven more hours.

Which is nothing short of ridiculous - honestly, he doesn't even know if she's seeing someone, for heaven's sake. Remus had said she wasn't, but those things can change at the drop of a hat, and Lily's an absolute fucking catch, so he really wouldn't be even a little surprised if she's somehow in a committed relationship that Remus doesn't know about.

"Okay, but seriously," Lily says, looking up at him, "what do you want to drink? It's my treat."

"You don't have to," he answers automatically.

"You're literally sitting behind the wheel of a car for eight hours while I fuck around on my phone because we both know I hate driving - let me buy you a damn coffee, Potter."

He doesn't actually want to fight her on this - and she'd win anyways - so he surrenders pretty easily. "Fine - I'll have a flat white."

They get their drinks - James' in a tiny cup and Lily's in a much larger one complete with whipped cream and chocolate syrup - and set out on the road again.

The drive itself is pretty nondescript - they're just driving down the same freeway for an absurdly long amount of time - so they have to come up with other things to pass the time. At one point, Lily just starts scrolling through a list of Shakespeare quotes to see if James can give the play they came from - he only misses like two or three, and one of those was from Titus Andronicus, and he fucking hates that play so he feels like that one's an acceptable miss.

And then somehow, they end up in a super nostalgic conversation of some of their most notable shared moments at university.

"Do you remember the day we met?"

If James could bang his head against the steering wheel without putting both him and Lily in serious danger, he would. "Unfortunately."

Then he quickly corrects himself, lest she somehow interpret that the wrong way. "Not because of meeting you - just because of the fact that I made a total arse of myself."

"Yeah, I was pretty convinced I was going to hate you," she replies, amused. "And I'm pretty sure I told Remus that multiple times the first time the two of us went over to hang out with you and Sirius."

"Well, I fucking deserved it."

He'd been a first year, in a starting position on the football team and far too hyped up by the university population than any eighteen-year-old ever should be, and that newfound popularity had completely gone to his head. He'd thought he was on top of the world, that he could get anything he wanted, anyone he wanted.

It had been some freshers party that he and Sirius had pregamed just a little too much, and by the time they'd shown up to the actual event, James felt fucking invincible.

"You must've tried to hit on me… what, five separate times? All worse pick-up lines than the ones before?"

He groans. "Yes, I was a drunk asshole who thought you were the prettiest girl in the room and that as a result we were obviously a match made in heaven. I clearly made some pretty shitty decisions that night."

"So who was the prettiest girl in the room that night then?"

James falters, and it's a good thing the car's set on cruise because his foot might've just fallen off the gas pedal otherwise. "What?"

"You said you made some pretty shitty decisions that night, one of which was that I was the prettiest girl in the room," she answers, sounding nonchalant in a way that James thinks might be forced. "If it wasn't me, who was it, in your much-more-sober-now opinion?"

What the fuck kind of question is that?

He grapples with what she's just asked for a moment - is she somehow trying to gauge who he thinks is the fittest bird they went to school with? And why does she even care about that? And how on earth is he meant to answer this in a way that doesn't end with her getting upset with him?

Eventually, he just decides to go for honesty, but he keeps his eyes steadfastly on the road ahead of him when he answers. "Actually, that was perhaps the only non-shitty decision I made that night. You were easily the prettiest girl there - in both my drunk and sober opinions."

It's silent between the two of them for a few moments. "Oh."

And then a second later, "So you're not seeing Emmeline Vance?"

That might be an even weirder question than the last one. Emmeline had been on the women's football team, and they'd been close, but his feelings towards her have never been anything even remotely more than friendly. "No," he tells her immediately. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I… I don't know," she replies, and she sounds almost… nervous? "You posted a picture with her on Instagram a few weeks ago and I just… I don't know, I just thought maybe - "

"We were just catching up over dinner," he explains. "We're definitely not, you know, anything close to… that."

"Oh. That's… good, I guess."

That's good? Honestly, how the fresh hell is he meant to interpret that?

For some reason, the thing that comes out of his mouth next isn't a request for an explanation. Instead, it's a stilted "Are you? You know, seeing anyone?"

"I'm not."

"I… good to know."

Fuck, for all that James had been thinking that they were so good at not being awkward just an hour or so ago, they're sure being whole ass disasters right now. And honestly, 'good to know'? Were they not just talking about the time he'd drunkenly hit on her despite her not showing any interest? And his response to finding out that she's single is to say something that… practically implies he plans on using that information later?

Foot, meet mouth.

They settle into a slightly uncomfortable silence, and it's just John Mayer coming through the speakers.

I want to know the real thing about you, so I can see you in a new light…

***

The tension doesn't last much longer, because James' stomach starts growling and it becomes apparent that they'll need to stop for lunch soon.

"Do you want me to look up some good places to stop?" Lily asks, fishing her phone out of her bag.

"Yeah, that'd be good."

She sits back up in her seat. "Oh fuck, mine's dead - I completely forgot to charge it last night. Can I use yours instead?"

"Go for it," he replies. He unlocks the phone for her and hands it over, letting her find some random little sandwich place near Leicester that looks decent.

They decide to sit and eat instead of trying to eat on the road, and sitting across from her in a little two-person booth unexpectedly feels very much like they're on a date.

He feels his hands start to get clammy as they sit down with their food - despite the fact that his brain knows full well this isn't anything resembling a date and that they're just eating here together out of necessity and a need to stretch their limbs, he still can't help but feel something between them - some sort of energy that he can't quite put his finger on - that makes this seem like perhaps there's more to it.

But he's definitely just thinking too far into things. Lily's shown absolutely no signs of getting a similar vibe from, happily chatting with him as she eats.

The topic of Sirius and Remus suddenly comes up - fitting, really, as it's their wedding that they're headed to at the moment.

"How does it feel, knowing that your two closest friends are going to be getting married this time tomorrow?"

James just shrugs. "Honestly, with the way they act, it's basically like they've been married for a while. I just want the actual ceremony part over with so that mum can stop frantically texting me about it every five minutes."

"Oh yeah, I saw that," she tells him. "You had a few messages come in from her when I was changing songs."

James takes that moment to thank his lucky stars that his mum doesn't know he's driving up to the wedding with Lily; otherwise, he's sure she would've texted him a million times today about her, which would've been… awkward to explain away, at the very least.

"None of it was all that important though - she just likes having someone to report everything back to, and apparently that's my job in this case."

"Somehow, I doubt she'd be pleased to know you were calling her texts 'unimportant'," she teases, taking a sip of her drink.

"And you better not tell her," he warns, but he can't even keep the grin off his face as he does so.

"Fine, I'll keep quiet, if only to save your head," she replies after a moment of thought.

Then she changes the subject entirely. "But man, I'm thrilled for Sirius and Remus. Meeting the love of your life in the first month of uni is basically the dream, isn't it?"

Well yes, James wants to reply, but only when they also feel the same way.

But he doesn't voice anything even remotely close to that - they've only just gotten over their last bout of awkwardness, and he'd quite like to avoid any more of those if he can help it.

He shrugs, playing way cooler than he actually feels. "Yeah, I guess. At the very least, it's convenient for all those themed parties - they always went in some sort of couples costume."

"Says the bloke who wore basically the same costume for like half of them."

"Hey," he argues, "if the theme fits, why not go with an old standard?"

She laughs. "You really did get a whole lot of mileage out of those reindeer antlers."

He reflects back on that fondly - he honestly might still have that same pair of reindeer antlers somewhere, probably boxed up at his parents' house with some other memorabilia from university. "I really think my favourite was that pun party though, where I did the whole toga thing as well and called it 'deer god.' "

She gives him a look like she can see straight through him. "You just liked that one because you got to walk around shirtless and make all the girls in the college swoon over you."

"All the girls? Does that include you, Evans?" It's overly cheeky - and exactly the type of shit he would've pulled the first night they met - and he worries briefly that he might've gone too far this time.

She coughs, and it takes her a few seconds to answer him. "Obviously not. It takes a lot more to sway me than a bloke wearing a bedsheet as clothing."

He's strangely disappointed by that response, but he doesn't really know what else he was expecting either. That she was somehow magically swept off her feet by the mere sight of him?

No, Lily requires much more than appearances to be wooed, something he perhaps knows better than anyone.

"Sounds about right," he replies, and there's definitely a little bitterness in his tone that he wishes wasn't there. "At least mine was better than Pete's costume that night."

"Oh god," she laughs, "that was when he wore the nightstand, wasn't it? He was dressed as a 'one night stand' or something like that?"

"Yep. Seemed to think it would get him laid, for reasons I still don't fully understand."

Lily shakes her head. "Honestly, not his best plan. I'd rather go home with a bloke in a bedsheet than a bloke wearing a literal table."

James almost chokes on his sandwich at that. It probably means nothing, but god, the casual implication of going home with him almost does him in entirely.

He maintains that she really might be the death of him before they even make it to Edinburgh. Sirius is just going to have to find a new best man, because James is going to be fully out-of-commission by that point.

If he had maybe just the tiniest bit more courage - and, er, wasn't going to be stuck in a car with her for another four hours or so - he might say something about that comment. Or about a lot of her behaviour today, really.

But he stays silent, their conversation giving way to the song playing over the café speakers, Lily absentmindedly humming along with the lyrics while she waits for him to finish eating.

And I'm on my way, driving at ninety down those country lanes -

He makes a mental note to add more Ed Sheeran to their playlist.

***

They're more than halfway there now; after lunch, Lily had fallen asleep for what was honestly less than half an hour, but somehow seems like the end of the world to her.

"I'm supposed to keep you company, not fall asleep and leave you to fend for yourself," she says, in the middle of what must her fifth apology.

"I can handle driving alone for a little bit - it's fine, Lily," he tells her.

He doesn't mention that, when she'd fallen asleep, elbow resting on the centre console and head in her hand, she'd practically been resting against his shoulder, and he hadn't really minded that one bit.

"I'll be awake for the rest of the drive though," she insists. "We're only, what, three hours away now?"

"I've not got a map open, but that sounds about right," he replies.

Truthfully, he's just been driving along the A1 without paying much attention to their ETA - he figures it'll be awhile before any driving directions become relevant again.

"Well then, I've got three hours left of not taking any more naps," she answers simply. "Here, let me put on some good hype-up music."

He unlocks his phone and hands it to her again. "I've got no shortage of that."

She scrolls through the playlist for a little bit before finding something she's satisfied with. They start talking again - Lily tells him some story about the bar her roommate Marlene works at that somehow involves a low-level celebrity, a rubber chicken, and a real chicken; it's so absurd that, if she didn't swear up and down that she's got pictures of the whole thing that she'll show him when he's not driving, he'd definitely think she'd invented the whole thing.

"How do you somehow confuse those two?" he can't help but ask.

"I mean, it's a bar. Alcohol makes idiots of us all."

"Somehow I don't think I've ever been so drunk that I put a rubber chicken in a carrying pen and let a live chicken loose in a bar," he replies with a snort.

"Yeah, okay, that part was particularly stupid," she concedes, and the music suddenly shifts to a slow ballad. "Okay, we're definitely changing this."

She picks up his phone. "Shit, it's locked again."

He takes a hand off the wheel and holds it out to her. "Here, hand it to me, I'll unlock it."

"Just tell me your passcode," she replies. "I promise I'm not going to steal your phone or anything."

He lets out a short laugh at that. "Yeah, okay, it's not like you can make a run for it with my phone while I'm going seventy down the freeway. It's Lily: 5-4-5-9."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her freeze like a deer in headlights, and it's only then that he realises the magnitude of what he just said.

She's his fucking phone password - granted, she has been since uni and he's kept the password for so long because that pattern of screen taps is just automatic at this point, but still.

It's honestly a miracle he doesn't somehow crash the car right then and there.

The silence between them lingers for a few moments longer, the only sound coming from the One Direction song still playing through the speakers.

"Your phone password is… me?"

Much to his surprise, Lily doesn't actually sound entirely repulsed by this revelation; instead, she just sounds genuinely stunned.

"It's nothing," he replies, his words coming out in a rush instead of the cool, casual way he'd hoped they would. And really, if he were panicking slightly less right now, he might've come up with a good cover - some other Lily he knew, or literally anything other than a clear acknowledgement that yes, she is his phone password, but alas.

"No, it's not nothing." She's back to her normal tone again. "And if nothing else, I'd like to at least know why - maybe not necessarily while you're driving, but at the very least, at our next pit stop."

He… yeah, he supposes owes her that much.

But how does he even explain that away without revealing exactly how he's felt about her for all these years? And while they've seemed perfectly friendly for this whole trip - and for a few brief moments, maybe even more than that - he's not sure how confessing that he's basically been in love with her for five years now will affect that comfortable camaraderie of theirs.

"Okay, yeah, that's fair," he concedes, tightening his grip on the wheel and vowing not to look over at her, not to reveal anything just yet.

"We'll stop at the next rest area then?"

"Sounds good," he answers, and an awkward silence settles over them again. Lily obviously doesn't want to type her own name into his phone to unlock it, so the radio continues to play the same slow One Direction love song. And as soon as the chorus starts, he has to fight off the urge to outwardly cringe, because god, what the fuck was he thinking, putting a song that hits quite so close to home on this playlist?

I have loved you since we were eighteen, long before we both thought the same thing...

Luckily (or unluckily, he's not entirely sure which), there's a rest area just a few kilometres away.

It's good that he's saved from spending too much longer stewing in the aftermath of his own stupidity, but not-so-good in the fact that he now has very little time to figure out just how to express all of this.

He's still mentally running through his options - does he tell her the full truth? part of it? a bold-faced lie that he hopes she doesn't call him out on? - when he pulls into a parking space. He takes as long as humanly possible to put the car in park and turn it off, entertaining the vague fantasy that maybe if he stalls just a little bit longer, the perfect way to handle this situation will just pop into his head.

He doesn't get that massive epiphany, but his prolonged silence does result in Lily being the first to speak. "I'm going to tell you something, but in exchange, you have to promise to be totally, one-hundred percent honest with me."

That seems like a massively risky gamble, but James honestly doesn't think it's actually possible to dig himself into a deeper hole than the one he's already dug himself - so what's the harm, really?

"Okay."

And if he thought he even had an inkling of an idea of what she was going to say, he's very swiftly proven wrong. "I've fancied you since our second year at UoE."

She's… "What?"

"Do you remember the night of that pun party we were talking about earlier? When you were dressed up in those reindeer antlers and a bedsheet?"

"Er… yes," he replies slowly, entirely unaware of where this is going.

"That was the night Petunia uninvited me from her wedding, do you remember that?" she adds, and when James looks over at her, she's looking at her hands folded across her lap.

He does remember that, actually, although he'd never thought much of it having any deeper significance until now. He'd found her outside the college bar, sitting on one of the steps and staring numbly at her phone, and he'd just… he'd done what any good friend ought to do.

"You found me outside and just… dropped everything. You left your friends and that girl you'd been flirting with all night and took me to that greasy chippy that we both know you hated and went back to my place with me and watched Heathers with me for maybe the hundredth time and didn't leave until it was almost three a.m. even though you had an early morning football practice because you wanted to be sure I was okay."

She looks up, meeting his eyes. "And it's a little ridiculous that it took Petunia's cruelty to make me realise it, because I mean, that wasn't like the first time I'd realised you were capable of being nice or anything - I'd known that, and I'd known I liked you as a person and thought you were fit and all that, awful first impressions be damned, but something… when you left that night and it hit me that you'd magically replaced all that hurt and betrayal with something better, something just clicked."

He's silent for a few moments, processing everything she's just said. "Why didn't you say anything?"

It's the most hypocritical question in the history of hypocritical questions, given his own silence on his feelings for her, but it comes out of his mouth nonetheless.

"I don't know," she answers, looking away from him again. "I didn't know how you felt about me, and I didn't want to do anything while we were at school that was going to mess up our friend group, and then we'd graduated and I'd never said anything and it felt too little too late at that point."

"You… didn't know how I felt about you?" he asks dumbly. "I spent the first night I met you just constantly hitting on you - I feel like that's pretty damn obvious."

"And you were completely plastered and apologised for it profusely afterwards and avoided the subject any time it came up again - it didn't exactly seem like it was a feeling you maintained while sober."

"Because I felt like a twat!" he defends. "And you'd very clearly shown me you weren't interested, so I wasn't about to keep flirting with you after that. But honestly, I'm not great at being subtle - Sirius, Remus, and Peter were constantly giving me shit for acting like an idiot around you. I'm not sure how you never noticed."

"So this is… oh god, this is why Remus was so keen that I drive up to the wedding with you," she says, sounding like she's suddenly had an epiphany of sorts.

He's entirely thrown off-guard by her once again. "What?"

"I was… god, this is embarrassing to admit out loud, but I was talking to Remus a few weeks ago and I started asking about you... and Remus, er, knows about my feelings and he gave me the idea that maybe I should use their wedding weekend as a chance to catch up with you and… fuck, now that I think about it, he was definitely giving really heavy hints that you fancied me back in uni as well."

"Oh my god," James says, realisation suddenly dawning on him, "that dirty double agent."

"Double agent?"

"As soon as you texted me about driving up together, I panicked and called Remus, and the fucker acted entirely oblivious to the whole thing," he explains, his eureka moment entirely outweighing any potential embarrassment he might've felt about telling her that. "Said you probably just wanted to 'spend some quality time with me' or… oh."

That was definitely meant as a hint.

"So all of this was Remus playing matchmaker," Lily concludes. "Or, not even matchmaker really, just…"

"Apparently he came to the conclusion that putting us in a car together for eight hours would be the only way one of us would finally pluck up the courage to say something," he finishes.

"Although I suppose neither of us actually did that… at least not on purpose."

Now that the initial shock has worn off, it starts to sink in that oh my god, she actually has feelings for him - that she's had them for five whole years now.

She looks at him a bit mischievously, and he realises that they've somehow leaned in towards each other over the course of the conversation. "You still haven't told me why my name is your phone password."

Instead of telling her why, he shows her, because they've got so, so much lost time to make up for. One of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, delicately, as he takes in the feeling of her skin against his hands and commits it to memory, and he closes the remaining gap between the two of them and presses his lips against her own.

It takes them a second to get things right - on Lily's part because it takes her a second to realise what's happening, and on James' part because he can't stop fucking smiling and it's making the kissing part difficult, but once they find their rhythm… holy fuck is it a rhythm.

One of her hands curls around the collar of his T-shirt as she deepens the kiss, and they're at such an awkward angle because they're literally in the driver and passenger seats of a car, but none of that even matters because he's kissing Lily Evans and she's kissing him back and it's quite literally everything he'd ever hoped it would be and more.

Everything he has, everything he's felt for the last six years, he's pouring into this. And maybe he should be nervous about that level of intensity of it, nervous that it's too much for a first kiss after she's only just told him that she likes him too, but he… he's never had much self-control when it comes to her, and this seems to be no exception. He doesn't think he could tone it down even if he wanted to.

One of his hands slides down her side, and she makes a soft little moaning sound into the kiss that practically does him in. When he'd thought to himself that she was going to be the death of him, he hadn't exactly pictured it happening this way, but he's quite okay with it.

Although then again, he'd actually like to do quite a bit more of this before dying, so maybe scratch that. He can't snog the girl of his dreams if he's dead.

Her hand slides from his collar and down his chest, and he's hyper-aware of everywhere her fingers touch, and -

BEEEEEEP.

He jumps back immediately, removing his offending elbow from where it had accidentally collided with the car's horn. "Shit!"

Lily laughs, and when James looks at her, she's flushed and her lips are a little swollen, and he did that. "Cars are perhaps not the best place for impromptu snogging sessions," she says, smirking just a little.

"No, not really," he agrees. "Not sure why there are so many songs about it."

"I think those usually involve making use of the backseat instead."

He glances at the backseat of his car, which doesn't actually have all that much stuff in it, but at the same time...

He's pretty sure that, if they keep going, he's not going to want to stop. And while shagging in the back of a car may be another one of those things that people like writing songs about, he'd much rather prefer, say, a hotel bed for that type of thing.

Lily must notice his apprehension, because she laughs again. "I'm not proposing we start snogging in your backseat," she tells him. "We can wait until we get to the hotel."

"How far away is that again?" He knows he asked that question not too long ago, but he's honestly completely forgotten the answer in the time since then.

A lot has happened in that time period, sue him.

"A little under three hours."

A little under three hours. That's practically no time at all. He can do that.

When they finally pull out of the rest area parking lot and get back on the road, James turns the music volume back up again, and it's a rather fitting song for the way Lily's hand is currently reaching over the centre console and resting on his thigh.

Can't keep my hands to myself - I mean I could, but why would I want to?

***

It turns out that three hours actually feels like an endlessly long amount of time when faced with a newfound impatience to get to one's destination.

They're just as chatty as they were before - the only thing that's changed from the first half of their trip is that there are noticeably fewer weird moments between the two of them… which, in hindsight, all suddenly make a lot of sense now. Well, that, and the way Lily's hands will occasionally reach over and rest on his knee, his shoulder, his bicep, and linger there for just a few moments, like she's trying to confirm that he's still real, like all of this is still real.

He doesn't fully blame her; he still can't really believe it's real either.

But after approximately one hundred and eighty agonising minutes in the car, they pull into the hotel where everyone's rooms for the wedding are booked. His parking job is… definitely not his best work, but he's not spending a single moment more in this car than necessary.

He opens the boot and retrieves his own bag, and just like on the way here, he lets her pick up her duffel bag herself. But as soon as the car's locked, he can't stop himself from sliding his free hand into her own, because he's no longer in the driver's seat of a car anymore and he's finally free to do something with his hands besides hold onto a steering wheel.

"I'm assuming… did you book a hotel room with Pete?" Lily asks him, as they fall into step.

"Nah, I got my own room," he answers. He hadn't had a specific reason not to share a room when he'd made his reservation, but god is he grateful for it now.

"So did I," she replies.

He almost wants to ask her to just stay in his, but he's not sure… maybe it's too soon for that? Or too forward?

So he bites his tongue, content to just run his thumb along the back of her hand as they walk into the hotel lobby and up to the desk.

"Hi, we need to check into our rooms?"

The concierge looks up from her computer at the both of them, almost disinterestedly. "Last name?"

"There's two separate rooms," James clarifies. "One under James Potter, one under Lily Evans."

The woman starts pulling up their room details, and James can't help but look over at Lily while they wait. He's spent three whole hours waiting to kiss her again - which isn't that much time, in the grand scheme of things, but they're making up for five years of lost time - and now they're so close. All he needs is their damn room keys, and he can invite her up to his for a little bit before dinner, and -

"It looks like you two are booked in the same room, actually."

James' head snaps up to look at the concierge again. "I didn't - "

She scrolls a little. "It looks like the change was made by the wedding party who owns the block of room reservations."

The... wedding party? That means -

He and Lily come to the same realisation at the same time. "Remus," they both say aloud, almost in unison.

"Yes?"

James whirls around to find both of his best friends, sitting on a couch in the lobby with drinks in hand. How he missed them when they walked in is a mystery, but he supposes he might've been a bit preoccupied with other things.

He blinks at the two of them, trying to form words. "You - you changed my hotel reservation?"

Remus smirks at him. "No, that was all Sirius."

"And technically," Sirius chimes in, "I didn't change your reservation at all. I just cancelled Lily's."

"I - why?"

"Because Remus here had to listen to not one, but both of you go on about each other in the weeks leading up to this weekend, and there was quite enough of you two being mutually pining idiots in university for it to still be continuing to this day," Sirius explains, throwing an arm around his fiancé. "So it felt necessary to take matters into our own hands… although, from the looks of things, you two have managed to sort things out already."

Sirius' eyes drop meaningfully, and James follows his gaze to realise that Lily's hand is still in his.

James opens his mouth to respond, but Lily beats him to the punch. "Finding out a bloke uses your name as his phone password mid-drive tends to do that, yeah. But if you'll excuse us, we've got a shared hotel room to take advantage of, so…"

She flashes the room key at the two of them - James isn't sure when she managed to collect it from the woman at the desk, but she's got it nonetheless - and he feels his heart fill with affection for her all over again.

And he also very, very much wants to follow through on her plan.

"We'll see you tonight," he says hurriedly, and he's quite positive that his friends are going to have a nice laugh at how quickly he drags Lily over to the elevators.

Does he care? Absolutely fucking not.

It's practically a mad dash to their room after that - it seems Lily is just as impatient as he is - and they've only been in the room long enough to set their bags on the floor before Lily has absolutely eliminated even the slightest breath of air between their bodies, rising up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"So, what do you say? Worth the drive?" She's got a sly smile on her face, and her green eyes are positively sparkling.

"Without question," he confirms, his hands settling on her hips almost automatically as he drops his head down, resting his forehead against hers.

There's a beat, a breath, and then her lips are on his all over again.

His reaction is instantaneous, one hand tangling in her hair while the other wraps tighter around her waist, and god, it's even better the second time - although that's likely at least in part due to the fact that they're not at some weird angle in James' tiny car this time around.

It's safe to say that absolutely none of this was what he was anticipating when he picked Lily up from her apartment in Camden Town this morning, but he's more than happy with the results.

One short little road trip, that's all it was, and it got him this.

#jily fanfiction #jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans #hp #hp fic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #marauders era #modern au #roadtrip au #james and lily

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praeuro · 6 years

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Okay so I wanna vent this off my chest, keep scrolling by all means do not pay attention to the severally paranoid post going on here—

Okay so...this is going to be about my mental health at this point. I can’t really turn to anyone for it because I feel uncomfortable talking about it, and myself in regards to my well-being, because I feel like it puts me in a bigger position than anyone else and I hate being the big guy (I know it’s healthy to talk and stuff but that’s just one of the many issues with me I just hate talking about myself, it’s off putting). But yes, this is about my OCD and it’s going to be a jumbled mesh of thoughts I’ve been having over the past few years.

Back to the scenario at hand, BACKSTORY—I only found out about my OCD about 2 years ago I believe. It’s funny because I should’ve noticed all the compulsions earlier, but I guess they were just normal to me. But finding that out, and at the time losing my best friend to drugs and bad groups was just...horrible. Looking back on our friendship and what it led to, I was actually appalled with myself because I had been steering my best friend towards good life decisions all his life, a rather funny OCD quirk of mine that demands control, but I felt a weird loss that night when he broke all ties and decided to go his own way. He was free too for sure, but I only ever wanted the best for him, and the moment when University took my opportunity to keep connecting with him, he ends up like this. It’s just the weird timing of it all.

Since then, reading up about OCD, and talking it out with people I found out some of myself that was actually considered part of the mental disorder. My compulsions are small (thank god), but where it really hurts me is stuff like intrusive thinking and paranoia and anxiety. Intrusive thinking/thoughts are like unwanted thoughts that spring up inside your mind uncontrollably, they can be violent and sexual in nature but they can be other things that bring up your anxiety. Now I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, but I’m smart and logical enough to brush aside most of the thoughts, it’s about rationalising. The moments where I lose that ability, are when I think back randomly to past mistakes, accidents, or even people. I don’t like making mistakes, or being bothersome; sometimes It’s uncontrollable, there are moments where my OCD takes precedence over my actions and I cause problems for people. If any of you are reading this, I’m so sorry about all of myself. I have what seems to be infallible recall to previous mistakes, I get a little paranoid thinking that they’ll remember this stuff, but I remember mistakes like there’s no tomorrow and believe I’m wrong for those mistakes. I’m plagued by them and it’s just horrible. I’ve learned how to admit and push past the mistakes recently, I’m only human, but I still get the occasional stab in the back of my mind. But yeah, I can put a lot of pressure on people when I don’t mean to and it backfires a lot on my mental health. I don’t want to blame myself all the time because that would lead to some pretty undesirable thoughts, but...I don’t know, I’m part of the problem but I can’t exactly put my mental disorder out there either. I’m so wrong sometimes.

Now I’d like to vent about an issue that’s getting to me A LOT. I have lots of loving friends, but few have their...quirks (and I don’t mean the good kind). Don’t get my wrong, I love them all to bits and would constantly fight for their love, but there are moments when they could just drain me of all life. One in particular had been a hassle a few months back, one of my oldest friends now, they brought something up that even now still eludes me. The idea was that I was being aloof sometimes, and making it unclear that I’d be leaving my headset when talking to people online; granted I am air-headed as fuck. Now my other friend and I have had some debate over this because in the grand scale of it all, this issue was annoying (and I hate being annoying) but nothing too severe as to wage the type of war they were bringing to the table. I had several chats, and even apologised for my entire being, but even after that I was brought back to the war table one final time over the dispute that I needed to put in more of an effort to remind people when I wasn’t at my PC (I mean I can’t even think back to those moments but it still bugs me because I want to know how to fix myself, but in it all it was blown up to great proportions—a mountain out of a molehill as the saying goes). After it had all closed down and people had said their apologies, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I HAVEN’T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT IT. Now I hate my intrusive thinking and how it makes me paranoid, but I’m sticking opinion out here now and thinking it’s not even over. Before all this dramatic calamity I had noticed the amount of toxicity growing around the friends group and I didn’t like what was growing. I have my suspicions about a few people (maybe one in particular), but this is doing my head in. The person whom I had argued with is now on a level with me where I’m not such a ‘bad guy’ but ‘not great either’, and I adore this person to pieces, but now they probably have just enough capacity to tolerate me. I don’t know where I stand in my mind, we hung out heaps and shared heaps of adventures in games we loved, and I know about both of our situations here but was throwing that all down the drain worth it for that one moment of hate, where they could’ve just talked about it like sensible people.

I don’t know much about their side of the story in all this, I’m still guessing parts, but I’d like for them to open up to me more about it/themselves eventually. My best friend has had alternate theories that this issue was just a facade for some alternate underlying problem, and they brought out the big guns and I whole-fully appreciate and love them to bits for helping me out, though this whole situation has left me plagued even more so with more intrusive thoughts that I can’t relieve myself of. I’m too scared to talk to them now. I’m scared that I won’t be good enough anymore, I’m scared that I’ll upset them again in any of my own small ways, I’m scared that they’re talking behind my back, I’m scared about what they’ll do next—eventually. I just don’t know what to do anymore, and I’m too afraid to talk to them, even though I want to be friends, I just don’t think they want to understand me. It’s funny though, the one moment where I tell them to give this person they don’t like a chance, they end up being best friends, but they can’t even give me the chance to put my better qualities before my bad ones, everyone has bad qualities...why can’t I shake mine away if they’re so big then?

I think I needed to say more than was I’ve jotted down, but it’s getting late and my mind isn’t up to pouring anymore out. I’ve gotten the jist of it down, TL;DR: I have OCD, I’m paranoid af boi, I fought with a friend, we made up, I feel like they don’t fully like me anymore, I feel like if I bring any of this up they’ll think I’m annoying, I don’t want to fight I want to love, and I’m dreading what’s coming next. My mind is constantly in flux over this, and...I’m so tired. I don’t mean to be annoying or wrong, but not everyone is perfect.

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glasgowgirl92-blog · 7 years

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Safe Inside

Okay, so Part 2! This is set after the season 2 finale but before season 3 premier. It’s shorter than usual, but this song spoke to me in ways few others have. Enjoy, Safe Inside! I’m open to song suggestions and prompts, so feel free to ask!

Will you call me to tell me you're alright? 'Cause I worry about you the whole night Don't repeat my mistakes, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside If you're home I just hope that you're sober Is it time to let go now you're older? Don't leave me this way, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

When Hank had returned without Erin, the team had been silent. No-one had looked up as he passed, no-one moved right away – only Ruzek had jumped at the sound of the door slamming. A thick silence had passed over the bullpen as the rest of the team faced the shockwaves of what that meant. They were down a team member. Whether it was short term or long term – that was unclear, but Lindsey’s desk was empty and if the further slamming of things was enough of an indication; Hank had her badge. Atwater had started a couple of sentences, Ruzek, too. Dawson had been the one to hold his hand up, causing them to close their mouths and not offer any more unfinished sentences.

The loss was tangible, it was absolutely felt by everyone as the silence descended once again, not even the sound of typing or pages turning could touch the silence. Their team was down one and Jay was down a partner. He’d known she was struggling, had tried to help, had tried to have her back but it wasn’t good enough and it wasn’t the first time those kinds of efforts hadn’t been enough; hadn’t been spotted. He swallowed hard, eyes on the screen in front of him as his vision blurred a little as he tried to breathe as normally as possible. His fingers itched to pick up his phone and call her, ask her what was happening but he resisted, an ugly and unbidden image of the guy on her sofa permeating his mind and causing him to huff out a breath and try to focus.

The usual banter that had once filled the bullpen still hadn’t resumed, Dawson had made himself scarce, Atwater eventually had left the room, too. The emptiness was jarring and Jay had yet to look right across the space, hadn’t allowed his eyes to waver from the screen since Voight had returned. His hands shook as he tried to ignore the silence of the room, usually the lack of noise didn’t bother him but right now it was suffocating and Jay could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, Olinsky was making his way towards Voight’s office; the former partners had a kinship that Jay fully understood now. You have your partner’s six and you do whatever it is you must do to help them.

With that, the detective stood and snatched his coffee mug and his phone, making his way into the breakroom and over to the machine, hating the way his hands shook and his stomach flipped. He’d called her multiple times and got no answer, only recently having to leave multiple messages for her to get her to work. Jay had waited until after he’d poured his coffee and taken a sip, even placed the mug back on the counter before he brought her name up on his contact list and pressed call. As he leaned against the counter waiting for her to answer; he subconsciously began to crack the fingers of his right hand, sighing in frustration when he ended up with her voicemail. He tried again; another frustrated sigh escaping his lips when the same thing happened again. Jay ran his hand over his head, fingers ending up in his hairline as he tried for a third time; his call immediately being sent to voicemail this time.

“Erin, its uh, it’s Jay. I don’t know what happened, but uh, call me, okay?” He ended the call and turned around, smacking his hand off the counter and dropping his phone onto it, leaning heavily on it as he sucked in a breath, trying to stop the noise in his head, to rationalise this. Every possibility ran through his mind; from simple time off to her having left the unit, but he needed to know for sure and he wouldn’t know until she got back in touch with him.

But what if she can’t? The thought sprung unbidden and unwelcomed into his mind and he shuddered at the thought. Voight was a lot of things; heavy handed, brash, stern. Jay was aware though, that he wasn’t the only one on the unit who loved Erin, she was like a daughter to Hank and really, there wasn’t anything she could do that would cause Voight to hurt her.

“You doin’ okay in here?” Al’s soft tone filtered through his thoughts and Jay turned to face him, trying to get his mask back in place, trying to look as though he was fine and that there was nothing wrong and he hadn’t just been on the verge of a panic attack three seconds ago. His attempts were obviously futile, but the fact that Al’s face never wavered from indifferent put the younger man at ease.

“Yeah, just making coffee, want some?” Jay tried not to sound as exhausted as he suddenly felt, reaching for his mug to take a sip.

“I’m good.” Al held a hand up, but leaned against the doorframe. “Going on a donut run soon, I need some company. The kids talk too much.” Al’s voice never changed, either, but he also didn’t look away as Jay tried to act as casually as possible.

“Sure.” Jay shrugged, taking another drink of coffee. “Just let me know when you’re ready to head out and I’ll grab my stuff.” He nodded at the older detective, keeping the smile on his face until Al tapped the frame twice and gave him a nod walking away. Jay let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and felt himself slump against the counter; mug shaking in his hands. The thought of food made him nauseous; but he knew Al had an ulterior motive for this, was trying to get him out because he never went on donut runs and any food runs Al went on, he took the Ruzek with him.

It was nice of the older detective to look out for him, but at the same time, Jay knew that nothing was going to make this any easier unless Erin herself came back and sat facing him at her desk. Even Erin who was clearly suffering from a hangover or something else sitting at that desk meant that she was within his reach and he could take care of her; actually, see her and make sure she was still okay. His phone buzzed against the counter and he jumped, grabbing for the device and letting out a string of swear words as he stared at the screen, slowly growing numb, the three-word message causing him to run his fingers over his hairline and sigh.

I’m sorry Jay.

He didn’t really know what that meant, what she was apologizing for, but Jay did know that he wouldn’t be getting anything more from his partner, not now, so he unlocked his device and swallowed hard, typing a message right as Al called about food.

Call me if you need anything, Erin. Anytime.

It had been a week and he hadn’t heard from her. It was Al who had eventually sat them down and told them that Erin had temporarily left the unit, Voight announcing later that she’d quit and that was it. Jay however, had still been sending texts, even though he knew Voight had given up. Erin had read every single one of them, but she hasn’t replied and it had hurt him more than he had cared to admit. He’d slept maybe a combined 15 hours in the past 7 days and it wasn’t enough. He needed to be sharp at work; their case was moving into dangerous territories, gang wars and shots were being fired here, there and everywhere. He’d already narrowly missed being shot and the look Voight had given him was enough for him to know he had to get his head back in the game.

Which is how he managed to find himself outside of her apartment, in his car, at 11pm. Jay knew he was probably inching into some kind of strange stalker headspace, but he needed to know that she was safe, if not sober. Jay had eventually visited the bar earlier, but Erin was nowhere to be found which lead him to believe she could be here. Her Livingroom light was on, but he couldn’t see any movement inside.

Jay jumped again, hand going for his gun when the passenger door opened only to let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re outside my apartment and you’re gonna give me shit for getting into your car?” Even with smudged eye makeup, a slight slur and a glazed over look in her eyes, Erin was still the most beautiful woman he had seen. She looked tired, exhausted even, and was clearly under the influence of something, but she was there, within his reach, in his car.

“You haven’t called.”

“I don’t need anything.” She all but spat back at him and he ignored the way it felt like a punch to the gut and sounded more like I don’t need you.

Jay raised an eyebrow at her, and nodded once. “Still coulda called.” It was a weak answer and even in her semi-sober state Erin seemed to pick up on the fact.

“Why are you here Jay?”

“Because you didn’t call.” Because you left without saying goodbye. Because you quit. Because you didn’t say it was over.

“We just covered that.”

“Erin—“

“Don’t.” She told him, turning to properly face him, her arm leaning against the seat as she pointed at him. “You don’t have the right to come here and tell me how to live my life.”

“First off,” Jay mirrored her actions, an anger at being left bubbling to life. “I’m not coming here to tell you how to live your damn life, Erin. I came here because my partner, my friend up and left her damn job without a word to anyone. I’m allowed to be concerned. I’m allowed to come and check in with you because you don’t answer my texts or return my calls.”

Erin scoffed and shook her head. “Maybe I don’t do those things because I don’t care enough to want to.”

If she would have slapped him it would have hurt less. Jay swallowed and chuckled. “I know you care. I know you do, somewhere—“

“Jay, you don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t.” He would have been more convinced if she would have looked him in the eye when she said that, but he could feel the icy grip of loss and numbness working its way through him at her tone.

“Then let me.” His voice was soft, pleading as he looked at her, hands itching to touch her, but knowing he couldn’t, the anger that was bubbling now gone, leaving him exhausted.

Erin gave him a sad smile, opening her mouth to say something before her cell sprung to life, filling his car and breaking whatever moment they were about to have. “Hey, Landon, yeah, I’m on my way up.”

Jay swallowed and looked away, bringing his hand to his hairline as he blocked out the rest of the call, not needing to know what her plans were.

“I gotta go.” Erin stated into the space between them, the distance seeming much farther now. When he didn’t turn to face her right away, she called his name and he turned to look at her, expressionless. “You gotta stop.”

Jay shook his head. “I’ll give you all the space you need, but you’re my friend, Erin. I’m worried about you. What you went through, no-one should have to face that alone.” He sighed and brought his hand down. “We’re all here for you, when you’re ready.”

It was Erin’s turn to let out an indignant snort and then out of nowhere she shook her head and opened the door. “You done, yeah?” she snapped and Jay wasn’t sure how the 180 had happened, but he was now looking at someone he didn’t recognize. “Go find someone else to save.” She spat, eyes looking anywhere but at him as she climbed out of his car and slammed the door, hurrying to her apartment building.

Jay had continued to text her; sometimes trading text but mostly not. He’d never stopped outside of her apartment again, but had driven by at least once a week. He’d spoken to Voight a handful of times before the Sargent had eventually told him that he’d filled Erin’s absence as furlough. That she was running out of time to sort herself out to come back. Jay had marked it on his calendar, checked it every day, he’d struggled with the idea of her not being there.

In every conversation the pair had had, she’d never told him why she left. She’d never really committed to leaving, she’d never told him it was over and that’s what he needed. Jay needed the closure if she had walked away. He needed her to look him in the eye and tell him that it was done. He hated how needy it made him sound; but the lingering doubt, the lack of finality, wasn’t something he could deal with. In his life, Jay had always had the black and white notion of who was in his life and why they were there, but she was his grey area. She was the one area of his life where uncertainty had taken up residence and wouldn’t go away.

Jay had spent more nights than he could count lying awake, working out how to get Erin the help she needed, how to help her talk. He’d called some of the people that had helped him when he’d first gotten back to clean up his act after his last tour to ask about getting help for her, without naming names, without giving any information. His efforts had led to people assuming that he was the friend and nothing about that had frustrated him more. Erin was his partner, and it was his duty to help her out of the hold she’d dug for him. Erin was his friend, and you always help a friend out when you can. Erin was…she wasn’t his anymore, but she’d always hold part of him and he’d always be the one who would be there when she needed him. No matter what.

It was then that Jay had had the idea, calling his friend at 4am.

“Yo, mouse, I need a favour.”

Will you call me to tell me you're alright? 'Cause I worry about you.

#linstead #linsteadfiction #linstead fanfiction #jay and erin #chicagopd #chicagopdfanfiction

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