#I feel like I need a million disclaimers for this post so just assume I’ve said all of them

[o-wild-west-wind]

okay, here’s my actual thoughtful post: I get why people are upset about the finale…I really do. but I want to mention that there’s a bigger picture to this story that’s missing if you’re zooming too close onto Izzy as a character, and I’m honestly so grateful that the show stuck to the thematic arc it introduced in season 1 because, as per usual, it’s about the themes 🤌 and this show never skimps on the symbolism!!

so here’s the thing: the primary themes are toxic masculinity (& it’s opposite, queer joy); trauma; love as a healing force for the above; and, title alert—DEATH. because it’s so much more than a cool title!

now, Izzy has always represented something metaphorical about all of these points; most directly, he’s always represented masculinity, and s2 has been an arc of toxicity deconstruction. but crucially, he’s also represented all that for Ed, who is the deuteragonist of this show. because—don’t forget—Stede and Ed are the show.

I’ve always doubted myself for feeling this after seeing how fandom saw Izzy as a third romantic figure (which like by all means have a blast in your fanfics I don’t care it’s about joy at the end of the day and pursue that as you want to), but after hearing something about djenks referring to Izzy as a father figure, it confirms a major point for me—Izzy is also in a lot of ways a parallel to Ed’s dad, and a representation of the trauma and guilt Ed felt from that formative killing. for so long, Izzy was an aggressive shadow in Ed’s life, and a tangible reminder of those daddy issues—someone telling him what to do, keeping him Blackbeard—and the beautiful thing is how that changed this season, how Izzy became a version of masculinity that could love and be beautiful and make good from the hurt, the literal poison into positivity. someone antithetical to his own paternalistic force, healing our daddy issues one drag show at a time. BUT, Izzy is still thematically representative within Ed’s arc—and by also representing the trauma that made Ed “Blackbeard,” it does make smart writing sense as to why Izzy died (NOT saying you can’t be sad about it—stick with me for a moment).

because here’s the thing—as aforementioned, this show is also about DEATH. killing is the root of everyone’s trauma, and reconciling a relationship with death is the ultimate arc Ed and Stede are both on, with the ultimate path of learning to live despite its inevitability. there’s a reason it was such a huge thing that Ed couldn’t personally kill, and then in this episode killed so many people with his bare hands in the name of love—and there’s a reason that was framed as a good thing. and there’s also Ed’s (and arguably Stede’s) active suicidality, which has been a huge force driving this season. these are characters who see death as this all-consuming thing, and they see their own deaths as the only solution. death is the traumatic force driving almost everything about their being for so long—and its reconciliation is everything for them, the greatest sign of growth. so Izzy’s death, and everyone beginning again with love—healing each other with love—is a cap to it all. it’s death as a positive force, for once. it’s death as love, not trauma. it’s death as something that will always happen, but this time not forced by your own hand. it’s a death to everything toxic, to what “Blackbeard” represented, and all the while a sort of rebirth. it’s kind of a death to…death? it’s functionally like the real physical moon replacing the giant romantic imaginary orb: it’s taking the thing that’s been artificially morphed in Stede and Ed’s heads and making it real this time, with all the bittersweet emotions that come with tangible reality.

and honestly, I’m glad that it was tragic and emotional. I didn’t think I’d be so devastated to see Izzy die, but it really did get to me, especially because of everything he said to Ricky and then to Ed. but think of it this way: Izzy and Ed might be romantically compelling because they were toxic and charged (and I hope people still enjoy everything they get from that dynamic in fan work), but imagine if the show had actually gone in that direction—where would it take us thematically? it would kill the thesis; it would be love as chaos and entertainment, but not healing. instead, this show gave us something so much more powerful: a legitimate, fully-fleshed trauma arc.

trauma hurts. Izzy’s death hurts. but that’s okay. that’s great, actually! it means the storytelling was effective—that Izzy’s arc made you feel something. and i know this won’t be every viewer’s experience, but honestly? I’m glad I can have this grieving process in such a beautifully framed light in the safe space ship of this show, because let’s be real—death, real life death, fucks you up. and let me tell you, I could’ve used this show during so many episodes of grief in my life. but here it is now, reminding us that our grief and trauma doesn’t define us—and WHAT a powerful thing for queer love, especially, to be presented as the thing that heals us all. ESPECIALLY when so much grief and death in this community is woven so deeply with the trauma of our identity.

so grieve as you need to, but don’t forget to turn the poison into positivity 💛 because that’s what the show is telling us—choose live, despite!

[celestial-heartbeat]

ULTIMATE AFFIRMATION GUIDE

ok so lately i’ve been getting a bunch of requests for affirmations for specific things, which is fine bc i’m very happy to give y’all affirmations, but it also made me realize how a lot of ppl actually don’t know how to make and use their own affirmations. so in this post, i will be teaching you guys how to create powerful affirmations and how to use them in an effective manner!!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ WHAT ARE AFFIRMATIONS ?

before we begin, let me tell you exactly what affirmations are. affirmations are statements you repeat that affirm something is true, which means that affirmations can be both positive and negative. according to the law of assumption, what you assume to be true will manifest, and repeating affirmations is an effective way to change your assumptions about your desires. another thing to keep in mind is that affirmations = your thoughts. you are technically affirming all day long without even if you don’t consciously realize it. this post is to help you take control of those thoughts (affirmations) and to make them work in YOUR favor.

got it? great then let’s begin <3

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ STEP 1: CREATION !

the first step to making affirmations is to decide what you want! it can literally be anything. whether it’s money, beauty, friends, an SP, a career, etc, just decide on what you want to manifest. have something in mind? awesome! now i want you to do a quick exercise that will help you make VERY powerful affirmations.

close your eyes (or not lol) and imagine yourself as the person who already has this desire. i want you to then consider this: what kind of thoughts are you thinking, now that you have this desire? really get into the mindset of being at the end of your desire and try to naturally think of some thoughts that would align with your desire. once you’re done, simply write down those thoughts or just pick a few to remember.

here’s a simple example of the process: say your desire is to be a billionaire. you would then start to imagine that you are now a billionaire…then you would ask yourself, "what thoughts would i be thinking if i were a billionaire?" it might be along the lines of….

i love being a billionaire

i can buy whatever i want

i am financially comfortable and free

i can’t wait to buy (insert expensive item)!

i live in my dream house

…and so forth. also remember that you can use this process for ANY desire!! and a helpful tip: MAKE THEM SOUND NATURAL! create affirmations that sound like how you would talk or think in real life. by doing this, you will feel as if you already have your desires, since they will feel natural to you!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ STEP 2: USING THEM !

alright onto the most important part: how to use affirmations in a way that will quickly and effectively manifest your desires.

(disclaimer: these are my personal beliefs and assumptions, you don’t have to agree, but this is what works best for me and many others)

first, let me tell you what NOT to do when affirming…

affirm 24/7: a common limiting belief that many people have, especially when first starting off, is that they feel like they have to affirm ALL day like a robot to get their desires quickly. they mindlessly repeat affirmations and they do it wayyy too often. the reason why this is pretty ineffective is that (1) you’re not really paying attention to what you are actually thinking and (2) it comes from a place of desperation as if NEED to affirm a million times to “get�� your desires.

having way too many affirmations: when you have too many affirmations, it becomes much harder to consistently affirm each one or to even remember to affirm most of them. try sticking to only about 1-4.

only affirming for like a day then giving up: this is pretty straightforward, but consistency is key for affirmations. don't stop affirming just bc you're seeing the opposite of your desire in the 3d!

⋆ ˚✯✩. BEST TIPS FOR USING AFFIRMATIONS !

ok so now that that's out of the way, let me give you guys some of the best tips i have to help you get the most out of your affirmations! again these are MY personal beliefs that work for me <3

affirm only when you feel like it: don’t make affirming a chore or a job! it should feel 100% natural and easy. i recommend affirming whenever you are reminded of your desire. for example, when you think about your SP, you can affirm “they are so in love with me” or whatever other affirmations you have about your SP.

affirm right when you wake up and when you’re falling asleep: this is optional but HIGHLY recommended. this is because your conscious mind is much less awake and your subconscious is WAY more open to information. neville goddard himself swore up and down with this technique.

affirm with confidence: whenever you do affirm, affirm as if it's an indisputable FACT!! know that you are the operant power, therefore what you affirm is what WILL manifest no matter what. even if you don’t believe it is a fact at first, KEEP AFFIRMING! it will feel more natural the more you affirm.

affirm consistently: while you don’t have to affirm all day robotically, still try to affirm at least a few times every day. as i stated above, consistency is KEY with affirmations.

keep affirming despite what you see in the 3d: this is probably the MOST important tip on the list, but you guys, don’t quit affirming just because you see something undesirable in the 3d. i know the 3d may seem difficult and permanent but it is NOT! everything comes from within, so walk by faith, not by sight. simply acknowledge the circumstance, KEEP affirming, and KNOW that it will change.

use self-concept affirmations alongside specific desire affirmations: use affirmations that affirm the fact that you are extremely powerful, a master at manifesting, you manifest instantly or anything of this nature. this will make everything a million times easier.

bonus technique: RAMPAGE BABY!! ok i know this is a little controversial, BUT if you ever need a confidence boost, literally just give yourself a long rambling pep talk with the affirmations. you're essentially just hyping yourself up, telling yourself that you ARE that bitch who now has their desire. this post is an excellent example of what i mean!!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SUMMARY

affirmations are statements that imply you already have your desires

create your affirmations by thinking of the thoughts you would have if you had your desires. choose about 1-4 statements, less is more.

affirm when you think abt your desire, when you fall asleep, and when you wake up. you don’t have to mindlessly affirm all day long. and when you do affirm, affirm as if it is an absolute fact.

persist in these affirmations, KNOW that you're going to get your desire in the 3d, and don’t seek validation from outside of you.

that’s it, have fun <3

[oldfritz]

I'm genuinely curious and don't want to start something! Just wanted to ask what you make of the 'Old Fritz might've been asexual' take, I don't know much about him and I feel you're one of the best people to ask esp since you lean towards 'he was probably queer in some way' too

Hey there! So, first off, don’t ever worry about me interpreting you asking me a question as starting something. As much as I love making dumb jokes about the guy, I love nothing more than doing this kind of stuff and defending or explaining my points. There’s two degrees I want to get over the next decade: first my JD and then my MA in Prussian history. I live for this stuff! Always have! Second off, I’m very sorry for not getting to this sooner. Things have been incredibly stressful for me for a variety of different reasons which have made answering your question, until now, rather difficult. Putting this under a cut because, holy shit, it got long!

My personal reasoning for why I think he’s bi (which, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m assuming is what you meant instead of ace and could be a different post entirely since some historians have tried to argue that) stems more to do with some of my lingering questions about the nature of his relationships with certain woman, rather than that of his relationships with men. To me and my modern, queer eye, Fritz’s relationships with men like Hans Hermann von Katte, Francisco Algarotti, Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, and (much to my personal vexation) one Monsieur Voltaire are either outright homosexual/homoerotic in nature or very, very easily lend themselves to that interpretation rather than strictly romantic friendships (which Wikipedia does a fairly good overview of and, if you’re coming to me from AmRev perspective, uses Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship as a familiar example). While I’m avoiding those relationships in this ask, I’d be more than happy to elaborate upon one/all of them in a different one. 

Before I go into the big pauses that Fritz’s relationships with Madame von Wreech and Countess Orzelska give me, I want to deny the use of Fritz’s wife as an example of Fritz’s attraction to woman. While this, admittedly, may sound odd, we have ample evidence of how turned off and repulsed Fritz found Elisabeth Christine. Before he had even met her, Fritz was complaining about how she was ‘not very pretty, speaks but little, and acts like a blockhead’ (Asprey, 87) and, later, admitted to Grumbkow his plan to ‘keep my word,...get married, but afterwards it will be a case of that is that, and goodbye, Madame, and fare thee well’ (Jones, 52). For Christ’s sake, the man pitied her knowing how his treatment would leave her as ‘one more unhappy princess in the world’! Which is little consolation when you remember he also referred to her with such romantic terms as ‘this unpleasant creature,’ ‘the abominable object of my desires,’ ‘the person,’ and claimed to have preferred to marry ‘the biggest whore in Berlin’ (Asprey, 87). And while we (fortunately? unfortunately?) know quite a bit about their sex life, Fritz largely regarded it as just another duty - to quote him, ‘I will only have the duty to fuck’ (Ibid, 87). And while Seckendorf heard - first, presumably from Count von der Schulenburg and, later on, Count Friedrich von Wartensleben, a close and intimate friend of the then-crown prince - that Fritz would ‘fuck and refuck’ Elisabeth Christine and that said act occurred in the afternoon, it still was out of a sense of obligation (Bely, 481-2). When reminded that if he wanted more money for frivolities, he’d need to produce an heir, Fritz bemoaned that he ‘cannot sleep with my wife out of desire, and when I do sleep with her, I do it out of duty rather than inclination’ (Clark, 50). All this in accumulation, as well as the myriad of other quotes and incidents I’ve left out, makes one wonder why his relationship with Elisabeth Christine is sometimes used by historians to prove any sort of heterosexual impulse in the man when she’s the woman with the weakest supports for that argument.

That being said, now we get to the women with a more muddled places in his romantic escapades, if you will. What exactly happened between Orzelska and Fritz during his trip with his father to Dresden in 1728? The main source for everything that occurred during this trip is Wilhelmina, who didn’t attend and without anything about this specific incident coming from Fritz or Friedrich Wilhelm I, make it rather hard to use as concrete, irrefutable proof. Now, if her recollections were contemporaneous - like coming from a diary or journal she kept at the time - that would be one thing. But it comes from her memoirs which, while a delightful read 10/10 recommend, are written decades after this trip took place and, memory being a finicky thing, can’t be taken to the bank. All those disclaimers, here’s the story as told by her:

‘One evening...,the King of Poland [note: Augustus II] insensibly led the King of Prussia to a very richly decorated room...The King of Prussia, delighted with what he saw, stopped to contemplate all its beauties, when [all of] a sudden a tapestry was rolled up, which procured him a very novel sight. It was a lovely female in a state of nudity [note: Countess Orzelska, the Polish king’s daughter], carelessly reclined on a couch. Her beauty excelled that of the finest pictures of Venus and the Graces; her body seemed of ivory, whiter than snow, and better shaped than that of the Venus de Medicis at Florence.

...Scarcely had the King cast his eyes on the fair one, than he turned about with indignation; and seeing my brother behind him, he rudely pushed him out of the room, and left it immediately after in a violent irritation against the trickery they had attempted to practice on him. ...In spite of the King’s vigilance, [Frederick] had had time to contemplate the Venus of the closet, who did not cause him so much horror as she had done to his father. (Wilhelmina’s Memoirs, vol. 1, 107-6)

Wilhelmina then goes on to claim Fritz had fallen ‘passionately in love’ with Orzelska and that the illness Fritz experienced upon returning home was simply being lovesick. Pinning the accuracy of this story is incredibly difficult because, again, we have only one source relayed decades after the fact and from two volumes of memoirs known to have inaccuracies. While I, personally, would love if he had had a tryst with Orzelska (who is such a badass in her own right and deserves more recognition than as a footnote in this guy’s story), there’s no one way to say with more than 30% confidence. I am inclined to believe something along these lines happened because if someone told me a story like this, lord knows I wouldn’t forget it for the rest of my life. And, with Wilhelmina being so close with her brother, it lends a bit more credence but as to the actual emotional or physical response Fritz had to it, well, without my time machine, I can’t and don’t want to say.

With Madame Eleonore-Louise von Wreech, things are a little more concrete. For starters, Fritz actually talked about her! In written correspondence that survived! We even have seven letters between the two of them that survived, which is a bigger win! As Blanning says, they’re ‘ardent but light in tone, ironic, almost flippant, and highly stylized’ (Blanning, 58). Their relationship was known to those close with Fritz at the time that Schulenberg felt compelled to visit and warn the crown prince against devoting himself to women because ‘the slight pleasures gained cause a million displeasures.’  Fritz’s response? To tell the poor guy that he may have ‘the gift of continence, but I assure you that I do not’ (Asprey, 83-4). Firtz even went so far as to send a letter to her mother, waxing poetic about Louise’s ‘beauty, her majestic air, her bearing, and her entire department.’ It’s worth noting that Louise eventually broke off the affair due to being bored by how he ‘loved [her] too much and often annoyed [her] with his clumsy love’ (Ibid, 84). Contemporaries, including Friedrich Wilhelm, believed Fritz had impregnated her with a daughter who her ‘cuckolded husband would refuse to recognize’ (Blanning, 58). Blanning is the only source I’ve seen dispute this due to this news coming from Seckendorf, who didn’t reveal how he came about this information; that Fritz and Madame von Wreech’s correspondence doesn’t indicate a physical relationship; and on the fact that she was not pregnant. I haven’t been able to find the birth dates or any sort of records for Louise’s two daughters to figure out where their conception could’ve been in the timeline and if it matches with the likely dates for the affair, but I also don’t have the resources Cambridge would afford Blanning. Either way, while the physical nature of the affair is in dispute, the emotional aspect certainly was there. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that she’s the woman Fritz was likely referring to in the 16 August 1737 letter to Voltaire where he claimed she had taught him how to love (and also inspired him to write poetry, which we shouldn’t be thankful for). Specifically, all these years later, he stated how ‘this little miracle of nature possessed every possible charm, together with good taste and delicacy. She sought to transfer these qualities to me. I succeeded well in love but poorly in poetry. Since that time I have very often been in love and have always been a poet’ (Fritz’s Oeuvres, vol. 21, 96).

All this to say, there’s a bit too much evidence of some degree of opposite-gender attraction in Fritz to completely write off the possibility that he could’ve been bisexual. While it’s undeniable he held a preference for men and that’s whose company he typically enjoyed, I still do find it interesting the two exceptions (one potential and the other with a fair degree of certainty) to this. And, while I would never want his attraction to men be minimized in favor of that to women, it still remains important to note to get the most comprehensive picture of the man.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Worthy (or Five Times Steve Talked to People about Time Travel and One Time He Didn’t) (1/1)

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: “What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

A/N: I started this on August 8, 2019. I have revisited it various times since then, fixing things that were misremembered after we got Endgame on DVD and fixing tenses. It feels more appropriate than ever right now to post, though. The first section, with Wanda, was written back in 2019. I’ve made minor edits, but her words have been around LONG before WandaVision was even announced. Obviously, by the ending, AU.

Also, I KNOW I skip potentially the MOST important person he should be talking to, but Steve’s conversation with Bucky from this fic actually got pulled out and turned into it’s own fic/universe: Six Dates, Times, and Places. Read that if you need some BFF Steve and Bucky.

~*~

Steve woke up at night in cold sweats, still feeling the vibranium cracking under his fingers as he tried to recenter himself, as he tried to remember where he was. The small tent on the edge of the former battlefield wasn’t much, but it was better than he’d been used to when he was in the trenches, and it was enough for now.

He let other people, better equipped people like Pepper and Strange and Sam handle the big stuff- the cities and the government and the publicity and the how of everything they did. He was never really prepared for what happened if they brought everyone back, he admitted it to himself now on dark nights when he woke up with his heart racing, that he never really thought they’d do it.

He headed up the clean-up: walking through the destruction and trying to put some order to it, helping dig out the bodies of good men and women who lost their lives, who wouldn’t be brought back by a snap, helping destroy the tech that Thanos had brought so it never fell into the wrong hands. He and Wanda spent their days putting right what went so very, very wrong.

Even with everything nearly done, with the building nearly ready for renovation and every lost soul accounted for and laid to rest, it didn’t seem over. It had been weeks, and yet the years before seemed like moments. He spent his days moving like a ghost, going from task to task, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After it was over, when the clean-up was deemed done and it had been decided it was time to move on, Wanda was the first person he said anything to as they stood together on the ridge, overlooking the old Avengers headquarters as it was bulldozed to the ground. “I should probably feel happier,” Wanda mumbled. “At peace.”

Steve sighed, looking at the scorched dirt beneath his feet: it was ruined. Nothing would grow there for years after the hit it took. “You don’t have to feel anything.” He looked at her, unsurprised to find tears slowly making their way down her cheeks. “I don’t.”

“I’ve thought so many times about…” The words caught in her throat, but she took a deep breath and continued, “About sneaking into Bruce’s lab and taking that stone. The time stone…”

Steve didn’t say anything, just waited for her to finish: he was afraid that his own selfish desires regarding that stone would just fuel her own.

“But going back wouldn’t fix it,” her words were as much for his benefit as her own. They both knew it was far, far too tempting.

“You don’t think so?” He played the devils advocate, and it felt good to let it out. “You don’t think that maybe you two could just avoid it all? Or even stop it all?”

“After this?” She looked over the dead land and shuddered. “The way I understand it, it would always happen, would always come. And I just…” Her voice broke, and there was a darkness in her eyes he was uncomfortable with when she turned to face him. “I just couldn’t live through that again.”

Wanda turned to walk away, but stopped, looking back at him. “We deserve more,” she whispered. “We’ve lost everything to make this happen. We deserve more.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was enough to remind him that those dark thoughts were just that- thoughts. And those thoughts would have consequences he wasn’t ready to pay the price for, or so he told himself.

Deep down, he felt like he deserved something, too.

~*~

The next time he discussed time travel was with Bruce and Hank. Pym was describing the use of his newly altered regulators while Bruce was constructing a smaller platform. This would be the last time, they both said over and over, that it would be used. Pym planned to destroy all references to the quantum realm in his work and Bruce had been working with Fury and Shield to carefully control the flow of information about what had happened.

“Son, please tell me you understand how dangerous this little trip of yours is going to be?” Pym asked him softly, laying both his hands on the table as he looked him right in the eyes. For a minute, Steve felt like he was back with Erskine- Pym had the ability to see straight into his soul the same way that man did.

“I understand, sir.” Steve nodded, trying to hide every morsel of dark thought, every late-night inkling and every dark moment. He was going to bring the stones back, return, and… and…  He doesn’t know where he fits in in this new world, doesn’t even know if he wants to, really, and that must be what Pym saw on his face.

Pym narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t move. The silence stretched so long that even Bruce stopped what he was doing to look over and watch. “Ask your question.”

Steve could barely hold the façade of surprise for a breath before it fell. He let the pretense fall away: his shoulders hunched, his eyes dropped to the floor, and he felt like a different man. He felt like Steve, the broken veteran, and not Captain America, the superhero. “How much… how much damage can I really do?”

Before Pym could speak, Bruce put down his wrench and had his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I know that look, Steve. That’s the look I had about a million times before I left every place that ever meant anything to me.”

Pym slid a stool over and sat softly, his face grim. “There’s not much that you could say that would surprise either of us, so I suggest you come out with it.”

Steve looked at them, their faces as open and honest as his was at every grief management group he ran during the dusted years: they were waiting for him to say that he wasn’t coming back because he wanted to take his life.

But it was more like he wanted to take his life back.  It hadn’t been his since Erskine accepted him into Project Rebirth, he just didn’t know it then.

“Don’t I…” He stopped, staring at his shoes. It took a lot for him to look up, into their eyes. “I don’t feel like…” He stopped again and took another deep breath. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever understand. He wasn’t sure if they could.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and it bumped against him compass. His lifeline. His reminder.  

He knew their stories. If anyone could understand, they would.

He pulled the compass out and opened it gently, putting it on the table. “Her name was…”

“Peggy Carter,” Pym finished. “She busted my balls as the head of Shield, but she was on my side when it counted.” Pym turned the compass gently, noting the slow spin of the broken dial.

Bruce looked at Steve, sadness in his eyes. “Steve, I didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t want anyone to know.” He shrugged, taking the compass in his hands. “She died, right before the bombing and the signing of the Sakovia Accords.”

Pym stood, the scraping of his chair cutting off anything either man would have said. “You were… a lot skinnier when you met her, weren’t you?” He stepped next to Steve, hands shoved in his pockets. “Kinda sickly, too.”

Steve laughed, a slight smile on his face as the memory hit him. “I wasn’t exactly in the best shape of my life.”

“Director Carter kept this picture on her desk of a skinny, kinda confused looking GI.” He looked up at Bruce, “I asked her about it one day. I knew she had a husband that no one ever got to meet, and that he was at least 6 inches taller than her based on the glimpse I managed of him once when I showed up at her house unannounced.” Hank began to circle the room, hands coming out and fidgeting. “She said it was someone she knew during the war, and that it was a reminder to never take a single thing for granted. Now, most people assumed it was her brother who was KIA.” He turned and looked at both men, a smirk on his lips. “But the way she smiled when she looked at it: it wasn’t sad and it wasn’t sisterly, either.”

Pym picked up a vial of the serum, looking at it. “Bruce, correct me if I’m wrong, but to be as honest as I can be, we really don’t know what kind of damage you could do if you go back and…” he chose his words carefully, “don’t stick to the plan.”

“Uh, that’s true. We really don’t know how this works; I just know what Strange and The Ancient One told me. That if we put them back, it should kinda… fix itself.” Banner shrugged, unsure if he was as onboard with what Pym was implying as Pym seemed to be.

Pym almost looked happy as he continued to think out loud. “We don’t know the rules. For all we know, there are no rules to it. The Quantum Realm is… nearly unknowable. But the way she looked at that picture…” He sighed, placing the vial back in its rack. He looked Steve in the eyes, open, honest, and unjudging. “You’ll have enough to get back, if you want to.”

Pym went back to his computer, and Bruce went back to his tinkering, and Steve never heard another word on the subject from either of them.

~*~

His first stop in the past was the sanctum. He wanted to meet the Ancient One, to see her, to hear what Bruce had told them for himself directly from her.

She didn’t disappoint. She took the stone back, letting it float into the locket she wore with no more fanfare than if she were asking him about the weather. “So, I assume you prevailed?”

“We did,” he confirmed, sitting when she gestured for him to join her in the library. “There were still losses…” he sighed deeply, thinking of Tony, “but we won.”

She sat quietly, waiting expectantly as the tic of the clock was the only sound between them for long minutes. “In your time,” she whispered gently. “Your question is not something that can be rushed.”

“Do you know what I’m going to ask?” He leaned forward, letting Mjolnir rest on the floor, the case full of stones next to it.

“No,” she tried to smile but it fell flat. “I can feel the anger and frustration coming off you in waves, the defeat, the… fatigue. You did not come to me first out of convenience.”

He looked away, still unsure of where to start even though he had said it a million times over in his head. In the end, he blurted it out. “What if I stay?”

He’d caught her off guard, for it wasn’t remotely what she thought he’d ask. She sat straighter; eyes wide. “I’m sorry?”

“What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

She looked at him, wonderment in her eyes, “You never planned on giving up your whole life.”

He tried to laugh it off. “The things you don’t understand when you’re barely more than a kid, right?”

“You had hopes and dreams, just like any other man out there.” The Ancient One stood, stepping toward him. “Why that surprises me, I’m not sure. Even Gods are men at their very core. Even I was once a woman with hopes and desires.”

“It feels wrong to say these things out loud...” he let his hands fall to Mjolnir, afraid to try to lift it. Every day since the battle he’d been surprised that it still comes so easily to his hand.

She came closer until she was kneeling before him. “And yet they must be said.” She waited until he met her gaze. “If you go back to your time, my future, what waits for you?”

He took a deep breath, leaning back, eyes far away. “Friends. Duty.” He sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Putting the world back together and finding our place in the universe.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And what waits for you if you go back to the past?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I don’t… I don’t know if…”

The Ancient One put her hand on his. “What do you hope is there?”

Steve smiled briefly, the words out before he can stop them. “I had a date.”

“Love,” she whispers, almost disappointed.

“And understanding,” Steve pipes in quickly. His words grow passionate as he continues. “She knew me better than anyone ever has- she knew me before this,” he gestured to himself, not for the first time wishing his muscles were a suit he could shed to show people just what he was like, and why it’s so significant that Peggy understood him back then, “and she still stood by me. I got the feeling… I got the feeling that even if the serum never worked she still would have liked me. No, I’m sure of it. She was smart and beautiful and everything I ever dreamed my future might be.” He stopped short. “Don’t... don’t I deserve that, after all this?”  

“The universe doesn’t deal in ‘deserves’ Mr. Rogers.” She stood, her voice flat and perfunctory. “If it did children wouldn’t die of cancer and good men wouldn’t die in religious wars.” She kept her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. “The universe deals in balance, though, and I feel you are due for some rest.” She reached down, lifting the case of stones and handing it to him, but she did not even attempt to lift the hammer. “Go on,” she waited as he gingerly lifted the hammer, his breath coming easy after it was in his hand. “I cannot tell you anything for sure. But I can tell you the sanctums you know of are in existence back farther than you could imagine. Should you feel things have taken a turn for the worse, do not hesitate to find me.”

Her smile was gentle, and somewhat forced, but it made him feel just a little better.

~*~

The soul stone disappeared from his case as soon as he materialized, and he didn’t stay to find out why. He understood the toll that place could take, and he had so very little left to give.

He left so quickly he didn’t hear the Red Skull whisper his name on the wind.

~*~

Once on Asgard, he thought about just putting the hammer down and letting Thor find it, but he decided that wielding it might just get him out of trouble if he was caught trying to make his way into the palace through the underground tunnels Thor told him about.

The only person who saw him was the one he least expected.

“Why did he send you?” Loki asked from behind the forcefield. “Unless… he isn’t…”

“No, he’s not dead.” Steve supplied the information wearily.

The god paced his cell, “You’re from the future, as well, then?” He smiled at the soldier. “Thor was looking a bit… pudgy.” His voice and face showed his confusion and slight repulsion at the idea. “That’s not the Thor running around with his little girlfriend up there now. I know that much.”

“Things went…bad.” Steve didn’t know how much to tell the man. He believed Thor when he said Loki wasn’t the villain they pegged him to be, but he also was still very wary of the god. “We…did what we could.”

“Could you be any more cryptic?” Loki sat on his bed, leaning back, amusement in his voice. “Interesting development, though, there,” he pointed to Thor’s hammer, “You must truly be something to wield that.”

Something must have changed in Steve’s face, something barely perceptible, but Loki saw it. “You doubt yourself?”

Steve knew he shouldn’t talk to him, and yet, there was something alluring about the trickster. “I’m… concerned I won’t be… worthy.” It sounded lame even to him as it fell out of his lips.

Loki laughed. “Who is?” The trickster paced. He started to speak, then changed his mind with a dramatic shake of his head. He stopped, crouching behind the forcefield so he was eye to eye with Steve. “Whatever it is rattling around in your head… You’re leaving Mjolnir here, aren’t you?” Steve nodded. “Then does it really matter if you’re worthy?”

Steve looked at the god, his mind clicking slowly around the idea that perhaps his own morality didn’t matter. He tilted his head and regarded the hammer. “This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted purely for myself, and somehow that seems wrong.”

Loki stood, smoothing out his coat with a huffed laugh. “You’re talking to a man who has been politely described as a narcissistic megalomaniac. The only things I’ve ever really wanted were for myself. I learned that lesson young.” He looked Steve right in the eyes. “If you don’t want it for yourself, whatever ‘it’ is, no one else will want it for you.” Something sad fell behind Loki’s eyes though his face didn’t change. “No one will just give you what your heart desires, not when you’re giving them what they need. They’re thinking about themselves, not you. Sometimes, you have to just take it.”

The revelation settled like a rock in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe it, but somehow it felt right. ‘Captain America’ served a purpose. He filled a hole that needed filling by someone and as long as he was there, they were going to take advantage of that.

He didn’t need to take over the world, as Loki had attempted, but he needed to take what he deserved before there was nothing left to have.

Before there was nothing left of him to enjoy it.

~*~

With each step through the Lehigh base he kept thinking one thought: this is too easy.

There were less guards, less people, than when he’d been here last, and theoretically, if he’d done things right, that should only have been less than a few minutes ago. He tried not to dwell on the knot settling in the base of his stomach as he swiftly moved to put back the tesseract.

He almost had it slid in nice and tight when the voice came over his shoulder. “Jarvis said he saw you. I thought the man was nuts, but he refused to leave.”

Steve let his head fall, his hands on the edge of the glowing box. “Howard…”

“I didn’t tell anyone, just cleared out the base.” Steve heard the soft footsteps as his former friend joined him. “Said I needed to run a dangerous experiment.”

Steve turned, taking in the tight and so much older face of his friend, unsure of what to say. Howard shoved his hands in his pockets but just continued. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly sure you’d come back, or if Jarvis had ever really seen you in the first place, but here you are, putting back something you stole from me. Without even a hello?” Howard laughed darkly, pointing at his suit. “You get tired of the red white and blue, or are you serving another nation now?”

Steve pressed his hands to his own chest, his head falling down and his eyes squeezing tight. “It’s a long, complicated story, Howard. And I don’t know how much I can really say.”

Howard shook his head, disappointed. “Can you tell me who that man was with you? The one who couldn’t even remember his own name?”

Steve couldn’t look at him, pain coursing through him at the loss of his friend. “No.”

Howard waited until Steve looked at him, cutting him close with the hurt in his voice, “Can you tell me why you never told me you were alive?”

Steve nodded. “That much I do owe you.”

Howard bobbed his head, really taking in the appearance of his friend for the first time. His eyes went wide as he looked at Steve and found the things he tried to not see before: the new lines along his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the way the lines around his mouth had deepened that all signaled not only was this not a social call, but the man was not all that well. “Ok, well, I’ve got a bottle of scotch in my desk, that’ll have to suffice for me.” He tipped his head, “Let’s go.”

The hallways were deserted, and Steve lingered his eyes just a second too long on Peggy’s door, which had only blackness behind it.

Howard noticed. “I sent her home, too. She doesn’t know why and I’ll catch hell for it tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. A few more steps and they were settled in Howards office, Steve on the almost comfortable chair across from Howard as he sat behind his desk, pouring out two tumblers of scotch. “So, can you tell me how I managed to look for you for years and here you are, waltzing into my facility and stealing the tesseract?” He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a hearty gulp. “Though, since you were putting it back, I guess you were just borrowing.”

Steve took the other tumbler from the table, holding it in his hands but not drinking. “I’m honestly not sure what I can or can’t say that doesn’t risk changing things.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. “But what the hell, right? If anyone’s going to understand this… will understand how important it is, it’s you, right?”

Howard shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “There’s a good chance I’m your guy.”

Steve took a second, eyes lost in the whiskey. It wouldn’t do anything, but the idea of it somehow gave him courage all the more. He drank it like a shot, swallowing and putting his glass on the desk. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Howard set his elbows on the desk, leaning over it, intensely curious. “How about at the beginning… How did you walk away from that plane crash? We looked for you for-“

“I didn’t,” Steve interrupted, solemn. “I spent almost 70 years in the ice.”

Howard sat up straight. “But you’re…”

Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. “I told you it was a long story.”

“That’s why you’re worried about changing things.” He leaned forward, hands in fists. “You managed to time travel?” Howard shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he thought. “Is that like a… normal thing in the future?”

“No,” Steve replied right away. “It was a last desperate attempt to…” he took a deep breath. “A lot of people had died, half of…” He took another breath, not really sure how to explain it all. “It was more than just our world at stake.”

Howard pushed back, eyes wide. “Other…planets?”

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah. The future was… interesting.”

Howard reached over and lifted the bottle of scotch, the liquid only half filling it. “We might need more than this…”

Steve laughed, really laughed, for the first time in months. “For this story? Yeah.”

~*~

An hour later Howard was pacing the length of his office, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from running his hands through it, and half a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “You weren’t kidding.”

“No. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Howard laughed and leaned back against his desk. “It’s a fucking mess is what it is.” Howard turned and put both hands on his desk. “I can’t believe it actually fucking worked.”

Steve felt guilty. He hadn’t mentioned Pym, not knowing exactly how the two were relating at the moment. He hadn’t named Tony, either, just called him ‘an inventor’ and later Iron Man and gave no indication to his friend that his son would end up dying to save humanity. But there were some things he wasn’t ready to risk ruining, some things he couldn’t quite yet face. “That’s… not the worst part.”

Howard turned his head, his eyebrows at his hairline as he looked at his friend. “There’s more?”

Steve looked at his folded hands, feeling guilty. “I want to stay.”

“Is that inherently a problem?” Howard searched his face, hoping for some hint. “You are, technically, more from this time than you are that one.”

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “I was hoping you would.”

Howard sank in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Like, if you stay, you become your own grandfather or something like that?”

“Well… not quite, but yeah.” Steve’s teeth were set on edge. Of all the people he knew, of all the people he’d asked about this, Howard would be the one to give it to him straight.

Howard tented his fingers, eyes un-focusing as he thought about the problem.

The phone rang and Howard ignored it, looking at his friend. After five shrill rings he lifted the receiver and slammed it back down, silencing it. “What did… what did the scientists who were helping you say about—” He was cut off again as the phone rang once more.  With a sigh Howard put it on speaker. “Hello?”

Jarvis’ anxious voice filled the room, startling Steve. “I’m sorry sir, but I couldn’t stop her without risking serious bodily harm.”

Howard’s face soured, “Stop who?”

The door behind Steve crashed open. “Howard you bloody wanker this is absolutely ridiculous. You ship me off for no reason when I have serious work to do. You’re not even doing an experiment are you? No, you’re drinking and—"

It was when she looked down that she got her first glimpse of him, and it ripped the words from her mouth.

He stood, slowly, and tried to smile, even though he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. “Hi, Peg.”

Her breath caught and her mouth opened and closed for a moment before the only thing she could think to say fell from her lips. “You’re late.”

~*~

End Notes: To keep track, here are the five times: 1. Wanda 2. Pym/Bruce (Yes, they count as one, sue me) 3. The Ancient One 4. Loki 5. Howard. And the one time he didn’t was Red Skull. I don’t write this trope that often, so… yeah.

This was all written LONG before Loki came out. Just in light of all the silliness going around I felt like I needed to post, and hopefully some of you needed to read it.

Let’s keep fandom happy and enjoyable, friends.

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 24

Hello loves! Hope you guys are having a good day and, if not, hopefully this gives you something to smile about. (You guys might actually like me after reading this episode 😉.)

Anyway, I was going to wait and queue this up to post later this afternoon... but I’ve decided to just post it. There is no point in making you guys wait when it’s already on AO3 and Wattpad (which, by the way, always get the updates first because of how I do my formatting).

To my fellow USA people, Happy Early Thanksgiving.

xoBeccaxo

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: minor language

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in November 2014 and features Chris's mom finally finding out what happened between Chris and Ellie.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 23.5

Episode 24: The One Where Momma Evans Gets Involved

November 25, 2014

Lisa Evans was sorting through her mail when she found a greeting card sized envelope with her name and address handwritten on it. Not recognizing the return address from California, she almost threw it away, assuming it would be an invitation for her in hopes that she'd bring Chris along, but something stopped her.

Turning the envelope over, she saw the company's slogan on the back flap.

"Sharing the gift of reading with kids since 2008."

Heartstrings successfully strung, Lisa opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside. The front had a collage of photos from kids receiving books to volunteers sorting through boxes of books. Written at the bottom was "Thank You for Your Donation".

Eyebrows raised, Lisa turned to the inside of the card and found a folded note along with what was clearly a mass produced thank you card they sent to their donors. Putting the card down on the table, she opened the folded-up piece of paper, finding a handwritten note from the founder and director of the charity. In the letter, the woman expressed her gratitude for Lisa's multiple donations. Explaining that, thanks to her donations alone, they'd been able to buy more books than they'd planned for the year and, therefore, were able to gift even more kids with books.

Lisa was trying to make sense of the whole situation when Scott came into the kitchen. He had arrived on Sunday from Los Angeles to spend Thanksgiving with the family.

"Hey, ma," he greeted, then paused, seeing her confused expression. "What's up?"

"Are you familiar with this charity?" she asked, pushing the card towards him.

Picking it up, Scott saw the pictures and then his eyes caught the wording at the bottom. Specifically, the "donation" part. He didn't know for sure, but he had a feeling that this was the charity Ellie had told her sisters about on her birthday. 

If Lisa hadn't been watching his face, she would have missed the telltale signs of her youngest son trying to think quickly. He glanced at her and tried to mask his expressions, but she was on to him.

"What do you know?" she asked him, calmly but in her best mom voice.

Scott squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze for thirty seconds before he caved. "Ellie made the donations," he told her. "She didn't feel comfortable accepting your money. Not after -"

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs made Scott stop talking. Having grown up in the house and around his family members, he could tell the difference between his sisters and his brother coming down the stairs and that was Chris.

Chris appeared in the doorway, a couple seconds later, and froze when Lisa shifted her "mom look" to him. "I didn't do it," he said, automatically.

"Ok, the two of you sit down," Lisa said, shaking her head. "We're going to have a little talk."

"What's going on?" Chris muttered to his brother as they sat down at the dining table.

"Scott was just getting ready to tell me," Lisa answered before Scott had the chance to. "But before I let him finish explaining. I got this in the mail today." She plucked the thank you card out of Scott's hand and handed it and the handwritten letter to Chris.

While he read both, she watched his expression. He looked surprised but pleased. He hadn't known about the donations then, she deduced. Glancing at Scott, she found him unable to sit still. He knew something.

"Seems like a good cause," Chris said, once he had finished reading. "I didn't realize you had made a donation, though."

"That's because I didn't make the donations," Lisa told him. "But Scott told me that Ellie did."

A flash of surprise or maybe shock shot across Chris's face and then he looked at Scott, but Scott avoided his eyes.

Lisa's eyes caught every second of it. She had suspected something wasn't right when Chris came home from filming the new Avengers movie. Then she had noticed the way he and Scott, usually the best of friends, seemed awkward around each other the last couple days. She had figured they'd had an argument or something, but now she had a feeling it went deeper than that.

"What is going on?" she asked her sons. When neither of them spoke up, she sighed. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you what I think is going on."

Pointing at Chris, she said, "You have spent the last six weeks moping around this house like a wounded puppy." He opened his mouth to argue, but she silenced him with a look. "And you and Scott have barely said a word to each other since he has been home. Then this shows up and when I asked Scott about it, he said that Ellie didn't feel comfortable accepting my money."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Scott staring down at the table in front of him. But her eyes were trained on Chris. Her oldest son was normally able to mask his feelings, but that resolve was cracking.

"So here's what I think happened," she said, her tone softening. "I think you and Ellie were seeing each other earlier this year. I don't need or want the full details or even a definition of what you were or weren't. That is between the two of you. And don't lie to me, I saw the two of you with my own eyes. It was obvious."

She saw Chris's jaw tighten and he crossed his arms as she spoke. He was preparing himself for a fight.

"But I think something happened, something went sour between the two of you," she theorized. "Something that made Ellie uncomfortable accepting the money I was paying her and ultimately led to her moving out of the house and eventually quitting." Knowing Chris wouldn't answer her question, she looked at Scott, "Am I on the right track?"

Scott glanced at Chris then at her before giving a subtle nod.

"It doesn't matter if you're on the right track, ma," Chris stated, his voice thick with the emotion he was trying to keep back. "She's moved on. It's over."

"Ellie hasn't moved on," Scott cut in before his mom could say anything.

"You don't have to lie for your friend," Chris snapped, defensively. "I was there. I saw it with my own damn eyes."

"Your own damn eyes -" Scott started, but stopped when he caught his mom's look.

"What did you see?" she asked Chris. "When?"

"It was in July, after you told me Ellie was moving out," he told his mom. "I went to the house. She was with another guy. They were hugging and shit in front of the moving trailer."

As Chris spoke, Lisa shifted her gaze to Scott and watched as he reacted to his brother's words. He went from confused to rolling his eyes by the end. Before she had a chance to say anything, Scott exclaimed, "That was Pierre, you dumb ass!"

"Pierre?" Chris repeated. "Pierre, who?"

"My friend Pierre who has been to your house like a million times," Scott retorted, throwing his hands up. "Pierre who only dates guys and therefore has no interest in Ellie."

Chris's heated expression faded quickly into one of confusion. "Why was he helping her? Where were you?"

"I was at a job," Scott replied, his voice dropping to a calmer tone. "If you had texted me, I would have fucking told you what was going on."

"So you're saying that she hasn't moved on? She isn't dating anyone?" Chris asked, ignoring his brother's jab.

"No, she's single," Scott replied. "She's been trying to get over you. She moved out because it hurt to be in the house with all the memories."

"Excuse me," Chris said, suddenly pushing back his chair. He left the room and they soon heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs.

Lisa stared after him for a moment before another thought crossed her mind. Turning to Scott, she asked, "Is Ellie ok?"

"She will be," Scott said with a small shrug. "I don't know the full story because neither of them wanted to make me hate the other. But it didn't end well between them… and I got caught up in the worst part of the breakup."

Lisa listened while Scott told her about the text he'd received from Chris asking if Ellie was ok. She saw the hurt flicker across his face when he described the conversation that had followed between him and Ellie. By the time he had finished telling her, they were both in tears.

Her heart ached for both her son and for Ellie, her friend. Needing to hug someone, she stood up and walked around the table and wrapped her youngest son in a hug.

"I'm so thankful Ellie had you with her," she told him. "You've been a good friend to her."

"She's become one of my best friends," he replied, sniffling. "And she and Chris... Mom... They're perfect for each other. But I don't know what happened. I couldn't fix it."

"You did your best," she assured him. "Don't worry about Chris, I'll talk to him."

Lisa waited until after dinner and after everyone else had settled for the night before she carried a tray up to Chris's room since he had skipped dinner. She knocked on the door to his room, not sure if he would answer or not.

"I brought you a couple sandwiches," she said, when he opened the door.

"Thanks," Chris replied, stepping back. He gestured for her to come in and then closed the door.

"How are you doing?" she asked him as she sat down on the chair that matched the desk in his room.

Chris shrugged his shoulders from the spot he'd taken on the bed. Then he picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. It was only as he started to chew that he realized how hungry he was.

"Sorry I missed dinner," he mumbled.

"It was a tough afternoon," she said, shrugging off his apology. She wanted him to tell her what had happened, but Chris only spoke when he was ready to speak. The fact that he had even let her into the room was a sign that he was almost there.

It wasn't until he'd finished the second sandwich that he started to talk.

"We were just friends until the night the Sox won the series," he said, his tone a mix of remorse and longing. "I kissed her at Fenway after the last out."

"Is that why she hid in her room the next day?" Lisa asked with a smile. Looking back at it now, Ellie had seemed flighty the next day.

Chris nodded his head. "She didn't want to risk messing up our friendship," he explained then sighed. "Turns out she might have been right about that."

"How so?" Lisa asked, relaxing into her chair.

Talking about it was the last thing Chris wanted to do. What if scenarios had been running rampant through his brain in the hours since Scott's revelation. He was mentally and physically exhausted. All he wanted to do was go to sleep. But as he stared at his mom, that child within him begged to spill his guts and beg her to help him fix it.

He opened his mouth to suggest they talk it over in the morning. But those words weren't what came out. Instead, he found himself pouring his heart, his pain, everything out to his mom as she listened to every word.

By the time he finished talking, they both had tears running down their faces and it was nearly midnight. His throat was raw from emotion and dry from all the talking. At some point, his mom had moved from the chair to the edge of his bed and when he'd finished, she had pulled him into a hug, making him cry more as she soothed him.

It was after midnight when she left his room and as he laid in his childhood bed, staring up at the silly glow in the dark stars that no one had bothered to remove since, he felt an inkling of hope spark in the depths of his broken heart.

Ellie hadn't moved on.

Episode 24.5

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[featherymalignancy]

Hey just out of pure curiosity, I was wondering why you don’t like the kudos function on AO3? You don’t have to explain or anything if you don’t want I’ve just been trying to understand and I’m not sure I do. Thanks!

Okay first of all, you’re not alone because I’m not convinced I understand it myself...

😂😂

Still, but I will do my best to explain, but first a disclaimer:

🚨 a) I know this 100% an emotional stance that lacks critical rationality, but this is my Hill and I’ll die if I want to. 🚨

🚨 b)This is my opinion based on how kudos make me feel, not an indictment of readers who give them. 🚨

Okay here goes:

For me, This WHOLE thing comes down to intention v. impact: a person’s motivation for action v. how that action is received by others. I am not here to argue with or denigrate the intent behind kudos, rather to explain their negative impact on me.

As a fic writer of many years, I want be clear in saying that I do not think readers “owe” authors anything in exchange for getting to read their work. Fanfic is a gift that is freely given, and like all gifts, it should be given without the expectation of reciprocation.

I understand that there are many reasons a person may not be comfortable commenting on a fic: perhaps they are shy or intimidated by the author/fandom or are not comfortable communicating in language the fic is written in.

Those are all valid reasons to not comment on a fic, and in point of fact, you don’t NEED a reason not to comment on a fic, as I mentioned before. I post my writing free of charge so that people can enjoy my work free of cost. That includes leaving a comment, etc.

HOWEVER

I have dedicated a LOT to my writing over the years. To date, I have published over 1.3 million words of fic. Assuming the average manuscript has 250 words a page, my fic anthology would be approximately 5,326 pages—over six times longer than Kingdom of Ash.

I dont say this to brag or suggest that I’m better than other writers or deserve more. I’m just saying that when I spent months working on chapter that may be as long as 15k-20k words and that has been researched, edited, and generally agonized over and the reaction I get is

👍🏼

It’s leaves me feeling hollow and frankly demotivated. I just poured my soul into something, and this is what kudos feel like as a response.

And I understand that many people would argue that kudos are a good compromise for those who want to show appreciation but aren’t comfortable to actually commenting, etc.

That is perfectly valid, except that isn’t how they make me feel, so regardless of the intent, the impact on me personally is negative, which is why I’ve asked that people no longer leave kudos on my work.

I also heard people argue, “isn’t a kudos better than nothing?”

For me, no it isn’t. The reality is that if you read my fic and don’t interact with it, I will never know and am thus unimpacted. If you read my fic and your only reaction is it a kudos, I will—for better or worse—always be left with this impression.

So yeah, long winded as always, but there you have it. In all honestly, I also don’t think I have every forgiven Ao3 for the breach which lead to millions of fics being added to a unauthorized fic reader app, including my own.

I know it wasn’t their “intent” that someone would exploit their platform’s structure in that ways but again, it didn’t soften the impact of that violation.

Any before somone calls me a hypocrite for still having an Ao3, let me assure you im well aware of my hypocrisy. As soon as I find the courage to part with all the beautiful comments people have posts there, I will hopefully find the courage to put my money where my mouth is and delete my works from Ao3

[hmsjiara]

‘cause you’re amazing (just the way you are) jj + kie

request by @love-life-always​: We never really hear anything about Kiara's kook year, so I was wondering if you could write a story where Kiara had an eating disorder during her kook year, while trying to fit in and stuff but she managed to recover when she became friends with the pogues again, but then for whatever reason it starts to affect her again and jj/the other pogues notice.

this turned into one big angsty mess real quick lol. but protective!jj is my kink, so... here you go lmao. thank you so much for the request, i hope you like it :)

read it here on ao3.

disclaimer: i understand that eating disorders are a serious/complex issue and am NOT trying to romanticize them in any way. and while i did some research before writing this, i am in no way an expert nor have i ever experienced something like this. so, if any part of this is inaccurate or ignorant i apologize. if this triggers you in anyway, please do what’s best for your mental/emotional health.

trigger warnings: eating disorders, panic attacks, brief mentions of abuse.

                                      •••

It was an unspoken rule among the Pogues that they didn’t talk about Kiara’s Kook Year.

It hadn’t always been that way. When Kiara had returned to the Chateau with a years worth of apologies and a case of Miller Lite, John B and Pope had forgiven her almost instantly, but not JJ. Weeks of veiled insults and sharp glares had followed, and despite John B and Pope’s efforts to sway him, JJ seemed determined to hate her forever.

But eventually, even he managed to forgive her for abandoning them. Kiara assumed that it was a combination of her constant presence, and the boobs and curves she’d developed during her Kook Year. She couldn’t really blame them for noticing, since they were horny teenage boys and she spent the majority of her time in a bikini.

So, things went back to normal, and the Pogues caught on to the fact that Kiara didn’t want to discuss her absence, or her exile from the Kook Academy. It was easier this way, she told herself. Talking about Sarah still hurt too much, and as for everything else... well, it wasn’t important.

So, she doesn’t talk about Sarah, about how they got drunk and watched movies and saved baby sea turtles together, how her heart aches when she thinks about her. She doesn’t talk about the girls at the Kook Academy who spread rumors behind her back, who shove her in the hallways and on one occasion dump a smoothie on her head in the cafeteria. She deletes the mean comments under her Instagram posts before the Pogues can see, because she doesn’t need them to defend her, and the last thing she wants is to explain why everyone hates her so much.

Because she just got her friends back, and Kiara isn’t going to burden them with her problems, not when they have it so much worse.

                                        •••

The words eating disorder cause a certain kind of alarm to go off in Kiara’s brain.

Because yes, there’d been those months at the Kook Academy where she’d gone from diet to diet, weighed herself after every meal, looked at the girls in her grade with their flat stomachs and thin, long legs and hated her curves and muscle-toned limbs. She’d followed all the trends— juice cleanses and swearing off anything over a hundred calories. She even stopped surfing, switched to running, wondering if it would make a difference.

Her mother’s comments hadn’t helped. Once Kiara was going to parties and sleepovers with Sarah, her mom started buying her clothes that were two sizes too small, handing her grapefruit halves in the morning when Kiara asked for eggs and bacon, shot pointed glares at the half-eaten box of cookies on her dresser.

So, she started just... not eating. It was almost too easy to do. All she had to do was say that she was running late for school and skipping breakfast, snack on celery sticks for lunch, tell her parents she had homework to avoid coming to dinner. And it had worked: she’d gotten thinner, and her mother smiled when she started wearing the clothes she’d bought her, so Kiara assumed it was fine.

It was a visit to her doctor that made Kiara realize that what she was doing to herself was wrong. There’d been no official diagnosis, just a few pointed questions about her daily food intake, a suggestion to incorporate more protein into her diet. But Kiara had read between the lines, and she’d gotten over it, moved on, recognized that what she was doing wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. And she hadn’t told anyone, especially not the Pogues, because it was her business and they didn’t need to know.

The problem is that sometimes Kiara forgets to catch herself.

Like when she spends a little too long looking at her stomach in the mirror, or when JJ offers her the rest of his fries at the Wreck and she wrinkles her nose and says too many carbs.

He frowns, presses a hand to her forehead, as if checking for a temperature. “Too many carbs? Who are you, and what have you done with Kiara Carrera?”

She laughs, shoves him away from her, goes to get another beer from the fridge, but JJ is still watching her when she gets back. “I didn’t know you cared about that sort of stuff.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, avoiding his gaze as she knocked John B’s feet off of the counter.

“Calories and shit,” he said with a shrug, and it was a perfectly reasonable remark, but Kiara didn’t like the direction their conversation was going in. “Is this something you picked up from the Kooks? You turning into one of those soccer moms who meal plan and don’t let her kids eat sugar?”

It hits a little too close to home, so Kiara snatches a fry from his basket and makes sure that he sees her eat it.

“There,” she said, chewing somewhat obnoxiously. “Happy now?”

JJ rolled his eyes, turned to listen to whatever Pope was saying about his internship, but Kiara couldn’t help but feel like she’d dodged a bullet.

JJ couldn’t find out. Not now, not ever.

                                       •••

Being forced to attend Midsummers is the last thing Kiara needs or wants, but her mother doesn’t care.

She thinks it’s how she copes. Kiara can hang with whoever she likes, as long as her mother can put her in a pretty dress and show her off to the Kooks.

The subtle, pointed comments start again.

Take it in a bit on the hem, Silvia. I’m not used to this, you know. I never had Kiara’s curves when I was younger.

I know that your friends don’t have to worry about this, Kiara, but you have a figure to maintain. Eating at the Wreck every night just isn’t going to fly.

Maybe a side salad instead, sweetheart. I’m paying the seamstress by the hour.

Kiara’s not proud of it, but she does go along with her mother, because she’s tired of fighting with her, and the idea of her daughter going to Midsummers with all the Sarah Cameron’s of the world has made her happier than Kiara has ever seen her.

She tells herself it’s only for a couple of weeks, that she can get through it, but it’s getting harder to ignore the comments, to resist the urge to weigh herself after a bag of popcorn or a sandwich from the Wreck.

Before, when she was friends with Sarah, it was easier to hide. Sarah didn’t really notice other people— it wasn’t her fault, just how she’d been raised.

The Pogues are different.

At first, they buy all the usual excuses. She’s not hungry, she already ate. But then John B asks her to split a burger with him at the Wreck, or Pope roasts her a s’more and she refuses, and they start to notice.

One time, Kiara buys a new kind of green tea ice cream from the grocery store, and she eats it all in one sitting, calories be damned.

JJ laughs, nudges John B. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Damn, Kie.”

It’s a joke, a passing comment, but Kiara flinches, feels a sudden surge of regret. Shit. Her mother was going to kill her.

JJ sees it, because of course he does, and then his teasing grin disappears and he gives Pope and John B a knowing look.

Pope looks instantly uncomfortable as John B clears his throat, and Kiara doesn’t like it one bit. She feels cornered, suddenly on edge, as John B opens his mouth and says, “Kie, is everything okay? With you, I mean?”

“Of course,” she says, shrugging, the deflection easy. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it’s just—“

“You’re not fucking eating.”

Kiara flinches for real this time at JJ’s harsh, blatant tone, her stomach hollowing out as John B hisses JJ’s name and says this isn’t what we talked about.

Oh, so they’re talking about her now. Wonderful.

“Fuck this,” she says, springing to her feet, the empty ice cream cartoon and metal spoon clattering to the floor. She feels sick just looking at it. “Y’all are— y’all are delusional, okay? I’m out.”

“Kie, it’s okay,” Pope says, his eyes on the floor. “Millions of people have, uh, stuff like this, you know, it’s not—“

“I do not have a eating disorder,” Kiara growls at him, ignoring Pope’s own flinch, how he curls in on himself at her words. “Your statistics don’t apply to me, okay, Pope? You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Kie, we’re just trying to help—“

“Fuck you, John B,” she says, turning to leave, not able to stand the pity on his face.

“No,” JJ snarls, rising from his chair, clutching the neck of his beer bottle so hard she thinks it might shatter. “I’ve had enough. Do you know that’s the most I’ve seen you eat in weeks? Something’s wrong, Kie, we’re not idiots, okay? So just tell us—“

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Maybank,” she snaps, the pit in her stomach filling itself with something cold and bitter. “This is my business, just like whatever the fuck is happening with your dad is yours. So leave me alone.”

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late, because JJ’s beer bottle shatters and John B yells as alcohol and shards of glass scatter across the floor, and Kiara is out the door before any of them can make her stay.

They’re just worried, she knows that, but it’s fine. She has it handled.

                                      •••

In reality, it’s the opposite of fine.

Kiara avoids the Pogues in the week leading up to Midsummers, ignores the texts they send her asking her to meet, actually hides when John B comes to find her at the Wreck.

She tells herself she just has to get through Midsummers, and then it’ll all work itself out.

The stress makes it worse, she thinks, and in between her anxiety over the Pogues and her mother’s pre-Midsummers prep, Kiara doesn’t realize that she can’t remember the last time she ate until she’s pulling up to the club with her parents.

It’s kind of like a wake up call, the shakiness in her limbs and the empty feeling in her stomach, and the next thing she knows, she’s hyperventilating over the sink in the girls bathroom.

It’s hard to breathe, and the heavily perfumed air definitely isn’t helping, and her mother is going to kill her, and Kiara doesn’t even know how it got this bad again. She doesn’t look too thin in the mirror, at least not to her, but what do other people see?

She’s not quite sure how, but she manages to find her phone in her clutch, to fumble through typing in her password and locating Pope’s contact.  

He answers on the first ring.

“Kie? Is everything okay? Where are you?”

He’s obviously concerned, and she feels like such an idiot, because she spent the past week pushing him and everyone else away when all they wanted to do was help her.

“Bathroom,” she manages to say, fighting to speak past the tightness in her throat. “In— Inside. Pope, I can’t breathe, I can’t—“

“Okay, Kie, it’s okay,” he murmured, sounding surprisingly calm. “Fuck, I’m working, I can’t leave. But I’m gonna help you, okay? Just breathe. Give me one second—”

The call ended, and Kiara tried not to panic anymore than she already was, but it was a relief when Pope’s name appeared on her phone screen again.

“Pope?” She asks, his name more of a sob than anything.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Kie, you’re gonna be fine. You’re not hurt, right?”

She shakes her head, then remembers that he can’t see her, and confirms that she’s fine (physically, at least) through the phone. Pope keeps doing that, asking her questions in a low, level voice, until she hears a knock on the bathroom door.

“Pope, is that you at the door?” She asks, clutching her phone tighter in her hand, any sense of control she’d managed to regain vanishing.

“No, it’s—“

“Kie? Kie, are you in there?“

She doesn’t know why, but the sound of JJ’s voice makes her crumble. She can still hear Pope talking to her through the phone, hear JJ on the other side of the door, but it’s like it’s all coming from very far away. Her breathing picks up again, and she barely registers JJ’s fuck it, I’m coming in.

His knock on the stall door jerks her back into reality. “Kie? It’s JJ, can you open the door?”

With shaking hands, she grapples with the lock, automatically shrinking away when light floods the stall and she sees JJ staring down at her.

She must look like a mess— sitting on the floor of the bathroom in her dress, mascara running, like some girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend at a party. But she can’t really bring herself to care about that, because she still can’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

“JJ,” she whimpers, because he’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do, some raw emotion in his eyes she can’t bring herself to decipher right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” JJ says, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into at the sight of her, his movements slow as he crouches down beside her, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Take it easy, okay, Kie? Just breathe.”

He takes the phone from her, has a brief conversation with Pope, then hangs up and pockets it. Kiara doesn’t object, staring at her hands and trying to stop herself from shaking.

“Can I?” JJ asks, and she realizes he’s asking to hold her hands.

She nods, and then his warm, calloused fingers are brushing against her skin as he rubs soothing circles into the back of her palms. Her heart rate isn’t slowing, though, her breaths coming quick and fast again, but then JJ’s arms are around her and he’s pulling her back against his chest and murmuring reassurances into the top of her head.  

He tells her to copy his breathing, and she does, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder, the fact that his hands are still holding hers.

Eventually, her breathing returns to normal, and her anxiety is replaced by exhaustion. She sags against JJ, closes her eyes, relaxes into his warmth.

The next thing she remembers is JJ guiding her into the passenger seat of the van and bucking her seatbelt. It’s easy to trust him, to let her eyes slip closed and listen to the steady, familiar hum of the engine.

Kiara doesn’t ask where they’re going, and she must fall asleep at some point, because then she’s waking up in the driveway at the Chateau. She ignores JJ’s offered hand and stumbles out of the van, tugging off her heels the moment she gets inside and collapsing onto the pullout couch.

She doesn’t want to move ever again, content to fall asleep right there, exhaustion heavy in her bones, but JJ takes one look at her and pulls her to her feet. He takes her to the bathroom, turns the shower on and places a hand on her back to guide her inside. He asks if she wants him to stay. She says no, because JJ’s already looking at her like she’s a wounded animal, and she doesn’t want him to think that she can’t do anything by herself.

Even if she almost has another panic attack once he leaves, has to remind herself to breathe as she undresses and steps into the shower. The hot water helps, and she loses track of time standing in the spray. She never hears the door open, but when she gets out there’s a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the counter.

She puts them on, drys her hair with a towel but leaves it down, too exhausted to do anything else. The sweatshirt smells like JJ, and she breathes it in. She doesn’t want to think about what it means. She can have a pass tonight, she figures.

When she opens the door, the hallway smells like cooking oil and burnt toast. She wrinkles her nose, pads into the living room on silent feet, and she thinks JJ might be right to treat her like a skittish animal, because when she walks into the kitchen and sees the plate of eggs and toast on the table, she wants to run back inside the bathroom.

JJ seems to recognize her urge to flee, because he pats the seat across from him and gives her a pointed look. “Sit down, Kie.”

She complies, because she kind of owes him, and JJ actually managed to cook something without burning the house down, so that’s a miracle in it itself.

“It’s no five-star Kiara Carrera creation, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her, smiling at her as she sits down. “I only know how to cook breakfast— sorry.”

He seems almost embarrassed, but Kiara doesn’t see why. “No, I love it,” she tells him, and he just stares at her, as if he thinks she’s lying. “Really, I do.”

He grins at her then, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the Chateau, and then JJ’s digging into his own food like a starving stray dog who hasn’t had a real meal in weeks.

It smells great, even though the toast is a little burnt, and Kiara is starving, but she still hesitates before picking up her knife.

JJ notices it, because of course he does. “Eat, Kiara,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “You need it. Please.”

It’s the please that gets her. She takes a cautious bite of toast, which is burnt on one side by covered in butter. It settles in her stomach, warm and filling, and before she realizes it, she’s scraping her plate clean.

JJ doesn’t say anything, but there’s a gleam or triumph in his eyes when he takes her empty plate from her and places it in the sink.

She was exhausted before, but the food’s made her drowsy, and Kiara stumbles into John B’s room while JJ is washing the dishes. He’s not home, but she decides to wait until tomorrow to worry about it, if she has to. As well as a bunch of other things— like what the hell her mother is going to do with her.

Kiara’s muscles feel like they’re made out of lead as she collapses onto the bed. She’s exhausted, but her thoughts aren’t stopping, and it’s a relief when JJ appears in the doorway.

“You good?” He asks, and she hums into her pillow, not opening her eyes.

But then the floorboards creak as he turns to leave, and she doesn’t know what makes her do it, but she calls his name.

“Yeah?” JJ says, and she opens her eyes this time, studying his silhouette in the doorway, all soft lines and tousled blond curls.

“Will you stay?” She asks, before she can consider what it means, how he’ll interpret it. “I just... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

But JJ just nods, moving to the other side of the bed and lying a respectable distance away from her. He closes his eyes immediately, but Kiara can’t seem to relax. They’ve slept in the same bed before, but this feels different. Heavier.

“JJ?” She murmurs into the silence, and he hums to show that he’s listening. “Thank you. For tonight, I mean.”

“S’ no problem, Kie,” he says, his words slurred by exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he turned to look at her. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, picking at her nail polish to avoid meeting his gaze. “I know. It’s just... it’s hard, ya know? I didn’t want to bother any of you, God knows you have enough shit to deal with without me piling my own on top of it, and it wasn’t that big of a deal, I swear—”

“Kie, your shit is my shit,” JJ said, his voice firm as he reached out to take her hand. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles, comforted by the familiar pattern of the cracks and scars that had stayed there even after his cuts had healed. “I’m not going anywhere. And this... whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. All of us— John B and Pope too.”

Kiara nodded, and it was silent for a while, but then she said, “I’m sorry. About what I said, about your dad. I was out of line, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ said, shrugging, his fingers squeezing hers in reassurance. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but... it’s just scary, Kie. It was like I was watching you slip away right in front of me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say to that, so she just tucked herself into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder as JJ wrapped an arm around her. Their fingers were still intertwined, resting on his chest.

“Kie,” he said after a while, when she was on the brink of sleep. “I shouldn’t have to say it, but... you know you’re fucking beautiful, right? Just the way you are. You don’t have to—

“Thanks, JJ,” Kiara whispered before he could finish, her voice catching. She told herself not to cry, but a few tears escaped anyway. JJ wiped them from her cheeks, wove his fingers into her hair, running them through her wet curls.

“No, I’m serious, you’re like really hot, I—“

Kiara laughed, swatting at his arm, even though there was no real force behind it. There was a certain warmth rising in her chest, as she breathed in JJ’s scent and fell asleep in his arms. She didn’t quite know what it was, but it was new, and she liked it.

Far more than she should have.

                                      •••

It’s better after that. Not perfect, not right away, but better.

She explains everything to the Pogues eventually, and they take it all in stride, as if she’d just told them that she had decided to take up knitting as a pastime.

John B is always there, offering to drive her to get dinner, insisting he hasn’t eaten in days. He insists that Kie teach him how to cook fish the way they do at the Wreck, makes her taste-test each batch and critique them.

Pope does research, because that’s how he copes with this sort of thing, and after a while he starts bringing it up with her. JJ glares at him at first, asks Kiara if she wants him to stop, but she likes it. She likes knowing she’s not alone, that this is normal.

JJ’s approach is more subtle. He’s always making her food (he still can’t make toast without burning it, but she eats it anyway). Honestly, when JJ pouts and bats his eyelashes and flashes that devilish smirk of his, it’s hard to say no to anything he offers her. He makes it easy though, and that’s what she loves. It’s not awkward or forced, just them sharing a basket of fries at the Wreck, or visiting a local food truck festival in town.

She doesn’t know why she thought telling the Pogues would be a bad thing, because it’s nice not having to hide this from them, to know they’ll be there if she needs them.

Kiara doesn’t need perfect, she decides. She just needs her boys— if she has them, she’ll be fine.

No matter what happens.

[anotherbeingsworld]

I Will Always Remember You This Way.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Book: Open Heart

Rating/Warning:G/ ANGST. 

Word Count: 1769

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. All rights goes to Pixelberry.

A/N: Hiii! This is a new fic of mine, and its an angst one! This is my first-ish try towards angst soo, I hope I manage to capture it! Also, I hope all of you don’t hate me whilst reading this (i am terrified of posting this🙈) , I have been wanting to write this in a while so, this is the final result!! Apologies in advance if there are grammar mistakes since English is not my first language. The song used was, (Adele’s : Make you feel my love with a one word change which is highlighted in bold) Soo, I hope all of you enjoy it! (please don’t hate me, i’m sorry. )

Tags: @soederberg ; @choicessa ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @princess-geek ; @storyofmychoices ; @n-whas ; @annekebbphotography ; @mrsbhandari

LINK TO MY MASTERLIST

She knows. It is too late for her, as she is watching the love of her life, or as she assumed is standing at the end of the aisle. He is wearing a black tux, with a white bow-tie. His hair was slicked back as he stands there with his groomsmen. She places a painful smile on her face as his gaze falls on her. The look in his eyes filled with surprise, with a pint of sadness along with the obvious look of regret. His gaze from her has torn away when the music starts. Casey feels the pain in her chest as the bride walks down the aisle with a million-dollar smile shown in her face. 

Sienna who is sitting beside her, takes her hand and squeezes it tightly as support. She felt herself putting a façade to make him happy, it is his day after all. The ceremony continues as the officiant announced,

‘Speak now… or forever hold your peace.’ 

Casey felt herself wanting to object, the look on his face is saying something similar. The way his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, despite the smile shows everything. But, it was silent. No one objects, not even herself. As it continues, Casey felt herself walking down memory lane as the moments with Bryce played within her consciousness. 

Both of them were walking down the rainy streets of Boston, as she stopped in her tracks in front of a store. Her eyes followed the item on the display rack. A beautiful modern wedding dress, it was a long ball gown, with thin straps that she felt drawn too. 

‘That’s beautiful Bryce!’ Casey said in awe as she examined the detail on the dress.

‘It really is, I bet you would look better in it than the dummy.’ Bryce winks at her as she felt her cheeks burn.

‘Do you think we will ever get married Bryce?’ She suddenly questioned him.

‘Hmm, do you want too?’ His head turned as they were facing one another.

‘I would love to be your wife, Mr.s Casey Lahela sounds perfect.’ Casey replied with a huge grin on her face.

‘And, I would love to be your husband as well.’ Bryce said as he gives her a kiss. 

The cheers around her bring her back to reality, as Bryce and Chloe walk hand-in-hand with another. As they walked down the aisle once more after being pronounced husband and wife, Casey claps for them as her heart breaks, as it should be her there, with him.

As they walked together, Casey’s eyes meet his in an instant. She places a smile as she follows the other guests doing the same. 

The  couple was celebrated through the night as the celebration goes on. The reception was held in a townhouse, that is believed was owned by the bride’s family. Casey felt herself needing space after what she is going through, she felt herself walking in circles in the enormous household. 

‘Damn it, I shouldn’t have come here! Your stupid Casey, he is already married and you can’t do anything about it!’ Casey found herself broke down as she stopped in an empty room. Her body immediately sinks down the carpet as she stood there. Her tears that she was holding before had fallen down, leaving nothing behind. The tears finally stop after a while, as she tried to force more to fall but failing miserably. She lets out a sigh as she takes out a handkerchief courtesy of Sienna to wipe the tears away. Her head perks up at the sound of an opening, she turns her head and saw him. He stands in front of the door with the look of regret in his eyes.

“What are you doing here Bryce?” She asked nonchalant whilst trying to hide her sadness from him.

“I…came here to check on you,” Bryce said quietly.

“Wouldn’t your wife will be looking for you..?” A harsh tone came out from her voice, as Bryce looks at her with guilt in his eyes.

The room was silenced, as Bryce goes quiet. He couldn’t answer that, Casey lets out a sigh and stood up to leave the room to join the others. In a flash, Bryce quickly pulls her into him, as they were facing one another. Their faces were close enough with one another, Casey felt herself leaning forward with him doing the same. Their lips meet for one moment as memories of him flowed through her mind making her pulled away instantly with a pained look on her face. She caressed his cheek examining his features one last time before sprinting out of the room. Her feet keep on dragging her until she bumped into a familiar group of faces. 

Sienna notices the puffy eyes and immediately pulled her into a hug, whilst Aurora rubs her back. They knew how painful this is for her, they knew how much love she has for him. 

“We can leave if you don’t feel like staying any longer,” Jackie said as she gestures to the exit whilst all the guests are getting ready for the reception. 

“No, no… I’m okay, don’t worry about me guys. Let’s go get ourselves seated.” Casey replied with a calm exterior earning questionable looks from her friends. Each of them lets out a slow shrug as they follow her to their respective seats.

As the ceremony begins, it went well as the family from both the bride and groom started to present their speeches for the happy couple. After a whole town of speeches were given, the emcee lets out a small announcement. 

“I have a request from one of our guests for the happy couple, a song to be specific. Here I call, one Miss Casey Valentine to the stage.” The emcee said as Casey stood up from the table and makes her way to the stage. 

The guests clap for her, while Bryce’s eyes went wide at the announcement. He thought about the kiss they shared in the room once more, as the music starts to play.

“I dedicate this song for both the bride and groom, may your wedding lasts for eternity with happiness and love…” Casey said before meeting his gaze, with a smile on her face as her voice starts to sing.

When the rain is blowing in your face,

And the whole world is on your case,

I could offer you a warm embrace,

To make you feel my love.

The tears started to form in her eyes, as she sang the first verse. She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before she proceeds with the song.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

Oh, I hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

The words from the song resonated on how she felt, in her mind where she would be the one to hold him in her arms, as they cried their sorrows away, doing everything she can to make him feel loved in the world. 

I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But she will never do you wrong

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong

Her eyes fall into the couple, as they were seated with a huge smile on their faces, the bride mostly as Bryce hide the pain through a small smile. Standing there, she knows Bryce is going to be happy… even without her and that is all she cares about.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue

And I'd go crawling down the avenue

No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do

To make you feel my love

She will do anything, knowing that his happiness matters to her. The pain from letting go is visible in her eyes as her gaze lingers at him. His eyes were wet from the tears, as he subtly lowered his head. 

The storms are raging on the rolling sea

And on the highway of regret 

She emphasizes the word, ‘regret’. The feeling of sorrow in her heart takes over into her voice as the wetness on her eyes seems too real to ignore. 

The winds of change are blowing wild and free

You ain't seen nothing like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true

There's nothing that I wouldn't do

Go to the ends of this Earth for you

To make you feel my love, oh yes

To make you feel my love.

As she finished, the room was silent as their eyes meet once more, the memory of their encounter before keeps on echoing in her head as she is brought to the real world as applause erupts. All of them are giving her a standing ovation, she lets out a small bow before heading back to her seat. Her friends were silent, they understand the message she wanted to give. 

“Cas, you sang beautifully,” Aurora said to her as she placed her hand on top of hers.

“Yeah, we are proud of you Cas,” Jackie says with an encouraging smile on her face.

“You’re gonna be okay, Cas?” Elijah asked as all eyes were on her. Casey went silent. 

Casey nods after a while, her thoughts still lingering… as it was writing a letter to him. Her final words towards him; a goodbye. 

‘I love you, will always do. I am really happy for you, even if it's breaking my heart. You deserve all the love in this world and I am glad someone is going to be there, throughout both the hard and easy times of life. I will always be here with you, every night and day. I will be just a phone call away. Bryce Lahela, thank you for all the love you give. Maybe, if our fates one day intertwined, I would wait a million years for it. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me and,  I am always going be that same girl who you found in the supply closet during our first meet. You deserve all the happiness, even though it’s not from me. Life is really insane sometimes, but one thing that is true in this life is, the love I have for you. – Love, Casey Valentine. 

Her thoughts are still playing as she  proceeds with the life in front of her. The words are still there, making itself visible. Maybe, as a reminder? A future wish or maybe, a way for one to move forward once again. 

 THE END

A/N #2 : HiI! It’s me again, I hope all of you enjoy it! I am so sorry for the angst! LIKE SUPER SORRY!! (Its painful to write it, but I somehow enjoy i welp! I still love Bryce, don’t come at me!!) But, don’t forget to like, reblog or even leave a comment! It really means a lot, and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. ❤ 

[pinehurst]

My Take on the First 3 Episodes

Let’s talk about Fugou Keiji for a second because I’ve been dying to talk about it. 

After waiting practically 5 months, the long-awaited third episode finally aired. I remember back when Fugou Keiji was first announced the hype over Daisuke took over the internet. Good looking? Check. Rich? Check. Parted black hair? Check. Nonchalant? Sign me up. I also gave into the hype; heck, who wouldn’t? He’s practically the whole package; my dream man so to speak. The Jumin Han of another dimension.

Disclaimer: This discusses the only 3 episodes out at the moment and as new episodes come out I’ll most likely just create new posts so everything here isn’t really definite so to speak? My theories and beliefs are just based on the first 3 episodes so they may not be the most accurate thing out there.

Disclaimer #2: This is me just rambling on so things may not be in the best order so please bear with me (it’s mainly just my thoughts on how our 2 main characters have developed so far and any theories that I have)

Once the first episode aired, I was absolutely hooked on both the synopsis and the characters. Two detectives working together despite having completely different beliefs? Imagine the drama that would unfold! 

Haru Kato, our main detective, would put his life on the line in the name of justice, taking extreme measures to uphold his humanistic values. The first episode heavily emphasized this idea. He insisted he take part in the entire bomber mission even though he wasn’t apart of the First Division. Ranks mean nothing in the face of human lives. Once he and Daisuke, the richer half of the duo, closed in on the van bearing the bomb, without any hesitation he jumped onto the van only to warn the driver inside, who happened to be a thief. This seemingly innocent civilian’s life was in danger: they had no right to die from a terrorist attack. He knew well of the dangers as there was only a minute left until the bomb detonated, yet his morals took over. If nobody is going to save her, he must do it. Would he have still done this if he knew that the driver was a thief? We can’t be so sure yet.

Even in episode two Haru’s traditional values prevail as he continued to pursue Isezaki, the smuggler in question, despite being exhausted and practically lifeless. The first two episodes really painted Haru as this character who is willing to go to the extreme and literally kill himself for the sake of others. His work method basically revolves around these old-school techniques.

Kanbe Daisuke lies on the opposite side of the spectrum though. He is far more materialistic and uses his wealth to buy his way through every situation. In need of a car? Just buy it from the prince of the Abura Emirates. A tower is affiliated with a smuggler? Just buy the tower and do whatever you must. He marches to the beat of his own drum, refusing to cooperate with Haru and even ignores his complaints. Haru is very clearly repulsed by Daisuke’s ways as he views it as though he’s cheating at life. Using money instead of working hard? Pathetic. Daisuke, on the other hand, just doesn’t seem to understand Haru’s views. Why go through all that trouble when you could easily solve it through a few million bucks? He doesn’t necessarily value human lives in the same way that Haru does either. As seen in the first episode, he almost ran over a mother and her son if Haru hadn’t intervened. But Daisuke’s character is far more complex in my opinion.

This is where my theories come into play. I suspect that something happened in Daisuke’s past that caused him to lose trust in others or even respect for other humans if we could go to that extreme. The series began with Daisuke playing the piano while saying:

“I had a father, and I had a mother. I believe I had a happy childhood. However, ever since a certain day, everything had changed.” 

This led me to believe that maybe possibly his parents died from a tragic murder or anything that would cause him to lose sympathy or care for others. Or any type of sad backstory for that matter. Maybe this is why someone of his rank and wealth even decided to join the police/detective force in the first place rather than selfishly indulge in his wealth.

Anywho, the first episode really helped build my theory. This is especially notable at the end as Daisuke is driving the prince’s car up the bascule bridge to push the cleaning van with the bomb. He smirks that devilish smile that we all swooned over the first time we saw it as the van crept closer to the edge of the bridge. Once Haru jumps out of the car to save the “civilian” inside, Daisuke’s facial expression changes to a much more soft, almost confused expression. A few minutes later when Haru is hanging off of the bridge, Daisuke watches Haru helplessly hang. He’s the one who decided to help the civilian, now he’s suffering the consequences. Why help him? 

Episodes 1 and 2 really helped to establish the contrasting personalities and mindsets between Haru and Daisuke, which I really enjoyed. The fact that our two main characters are as different as night and day made the show much more comedic, which I absolutely enjoyed! The subtlety in the expressions too: stunning. *chef’s kiss*

The third episode elaborated on their personalities and really added a sort of “depth” to them. Oh boy was this episode chaotic and full of new information. This is the episode where we see their first step towards true partnership, Haru’s backstory, and even met grammy Kanbe. Let’s dive into it.

The episode started off with Daisuke, Haru, and Suzue visiting the Kikuko, or Daisuke’s grandmother. As of right now, it’s still unclear whether Suzue is Daisuke’s fiancé or sister, but either way she was in no way the focus of the episode. Daisuke seems much more submissive towards his grandmother, a side of him we’ve yet to see. This is even prominent in the opening song as Daisuke is seen smirking alongside the other members of the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force (MCPTF) yet he has a much more neutral face around his grandmother. Is it out of respect? Quite possibly. He is much more composed (even though he always has been) and compliant, furthering my case. Back to my theory, maybe his grandma raised him after his parents died and that’s where his respect grew from. The possibility is always there.

It’s also noticeable that Daisuke seems much more irritated towards Haru as in practically any screenshot from these first few scenes you could feel the pique radiate from him. Daisuke even gave Haru the stink eye a few times before Haru ratted him out to his grandmother (harsh). Whatever happened in Hong Kong must’ve been brutal, but it really helped throw a curveball in their relationship. 

After that bop of an opening, it’s revealed that Haru is sitting next to a student facing lots of difficulties early on ranging from his sister’s bad health to failing his college entrance exam. Haru very clearly sympathizes with this kid as he also failed his first college entrance exam, and heck who wouldn’t feel bad for a kid going through this much stress? Imagine the absolute grief Haru felt when he found out that it’s that same kid who held a woman at gunpoint later on. When calling Kamei later on, Haru shouted:

“No! Don’t tell him. Absolutely not.” 

Considering his relationship with his fellow peers, we can safely assume that he’s referring to Daisuke. At this point, we know that Haru doesn’t trust Daisuke at all. Like not even a sliver. That rich boy help him? No sir. No thank you. 

This scene also unveiled the tension between Haru and the First Division. Haru and Hoshino are clearly not on good terms as they speak formally to one another, almost as though they weren’t partners a few years back. A flashback plays soon after and its revealed that all went downhill when Haru misfired and ended up wounding one burglar and killing one innocent civilian (who held a gun at Haru most likely out of fear; I mean, who wouldn’t be scared in such a situation). This ultimately led to his demotion to the Third Division. Lots of drama. Lots of tears. This backstory revealed exactly why Haru is unable to shoot anymore: his past trauma is to blame. 

Haru still clearly cares for Hoshino though. When he and Daisuke listened in to the First Division’s call line, Haru practically prayed that the perp wouldn’t get shot, for both the sake of morals and for his friend. His “friend” is mentally incapable of shooting anyone and the perp just “isn’t a bad guy.” Haru is revealed to be an even greater advocate of morality and humanism than we previously thought. Even though this college student was hosting a stand-off, Haru refused to believe that he was any less human and hoped to find a way to prevent him from approaching death’s doorstep. So, to answer the question from earlier: yes, Haru would still save the thief if he was aware of it. He values human lives to the point that the First Division had the audacity to say that he “has no right to be a police officer.” 

Daisuke listened closely to Haru’s wishes and worked to make them come true. He worked to find a way to bring the perp down without any bloodshed and practically did anything to conform to Haru’s wishes, ranging from allowing him to use HEUSC to setting off smoke rockets to prevent the perp from getting shot by the police. When the First Division chief insists that Haru shoot the perp, Haru is clearly hesitant. What if things go wrong again? No, why should he shoot him when he wants him to live? Should he just throw away his morals in the midst of panic? Haru is shown to try to reason with the perp and just couldn’t bring himself to shoot him. Maybe there will be some development in the future? Who knows. 

Daisuke later on bribes the perp by stressing he’ll pay for his sister’s surgery in order to resolve the actual reason he decided to host the stand-off in the first place. Daisuke obviously did it for the mission and maybe he didn’t feel remorse whatsoever (heck who can tell what Daisuke is thinking) but I have a feeling that as the series progresses Daisuke will start to do these acts of kindness not only for the case but also out of authenticity. The perp seems intimidated (possibly by Daisuke’s lifeless expressions) and gives in and the day is saved! The third episode formally wraps up with another unforgettable bop. 

The takeaway from the entire episode is that Daisuke started cooperating with Haru and even allowed him to use HEUSC. Was this because he had a change in mindset? Or was he just following his grandmother’s wishes? Personally, I believe it’s both but leaning towards the latter. Daisuke, as mentioned before, has a different kind of respect for his grandmother and would submit to her wishes. Since she said “don’t trouble your coworkers,” he decided to work with Haru rather than just alongside him. She also insisted that Haru help coach Daisuke, so once again, he’s following her orders. However, I do believe that Daisuke is rather curious about Haru’s lifestyle. They are quite different as a matter of fact. He wanted to understand how Haru could easily put his life on the line for other people and maybe even wanted to change himself. That’s unlikely considering it’s only the third episode, but that possibility is still there. 

But I strongly believe that Daisuke had a change in mindset, even if it may be small. He jeopardized his life and walked towards the perpetrator only because he trusted Haru’s words: “He isn’t the type of guy to kill.” Maybe Daisuke did this only to follow his grandmother’s wishes. Maybe he did this out of sheer trust. Maybe he did this to try to better his relationship with Haru (the chances are, yet again, a bit low). Nonetheless, he still put his life at risk and this was one small step in their partnership (and one giant leap for fangirl-kind). That’s not to say that their relationship isn’t still iffy. Whenever Haru starts to speak in the car, Daisuke just puts the pedal to the metal and drives off into the distance.

Personally, I enjoyed this shift in character in Daisuke in the third episode. I've seen many comments regarding how it's sudden that his character changed, but I felt as though it made sense (as explained above). I see where they're coming from as we were robbed from the Hong Kong trip, and it’s evident that something happened in Hong Kong that caused a shift in their characters; however, I felt as though the third episode put emphasis on the fact that Daisuke is changing whether it be by his free will or his grandmother’s, or both. 

In conclusion: I cry over pretty boys so much to the point that I wrote an entire review on them.

EDIT: So it’s been confirmed that we’re going to learn about what happened in Hong Kong in a drama CD. All I can say is yes

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so my hatred for the idea of cop Dick Grayson is well known, but given a recent mini surge of fics with him in this role because of the focus on cops at the moment (not any one in particular, I’ve just noticed over the past couple weeks that I’ve been seeing as much of cop Dick Grayson as I have pretty much over the past couple months before that), I just want to toss a reminder out there for people who really only know of his time as a cop because of fanfics:

1) He was a cop for less than a decade in real time, and hasn’t been one in almost twenty years. Move on.

2) We blame Chuck Dixon for making him a cop due to his right wing biases. The other writer primarily responsible for writing Dick while he was a cop was Devin Grayson. The writer who ALSO made him Romani.

Meaning:

a) Making Dick Grayson a cop was LITERALLY a form of cop propaganda. It was an extremely conservative writer taking a character WHO HE HIMSELF HAD WRITTEN SUFFERING AT THE HANDS OF THE SYSTEM AS A KID - given that Dixon ALSO penned the juvie origin for Dick - and making him grow up to be a cop, basically saying ‘see, if even a kid who suffered because of the system can have the awareness to grow up and see the system isn’t all bad and just needs good people working in it....makes you think, doesn’t it?’

Well, no, Chuck, it mostly makes me think you’re a dumbass who has no idea what he’s talking about and has no business writing a defense of a system you’ve probably never suffered under by using a character who HAS and thus who readers who have also suffered under that system specifically relate to BECAUSE of that, BUT I DIGRESS. 

b) The other half of cop Dick Grayson’s tenure was written by the woman who made Dick Grayson Romani, meaning it co-existed with the time Dick was most distinctly and actively written as Romani and invested in his Romani heritage ON THE PAGE.

Translation: COP DICK GRAYSON IS NOT WHITE.

Cop Dick Grayson IS Romani Dick Grayson. Again, standard seemingly necessary disclaimer that you can do literally anything you want in fanfic, but I’m just pointing this out to mention that if you want to write Dick as a cop while white, its not a ton different than just deciding to write Jason becoming a cop because his OWN background and experiences make him think ‘well things might have been better if there were more cops who actually CARED about the people who live in my old neighborhood’ or like, Tim growing up to become a cop because he stans intrusive surveillance.

Cop Dick Grayson is Romani Dick Grayson who is WELL aware of the realities of being a character of color in a white dominated institution that is responsible for the persecution of millions, and here’s something white writers in particular really really REALLY need to keep in mind, because its 110% a core part of where Devin Grayson fucked the hell up:

This is NOT to take anything away from the focus on BLM or police brutality against black people in particular, but IN THE CONTEXT OF FICS ABOUT THESE CHARACTERS, pleeeeeease be mindful of the fact that the Romani people have been heavily persecuted and oppressed by law enforcement across multiple nations for decades and decades as well. They have a HUGELY contentious relationship and history with cops of pretty much all nationalities - 

AND IT WAS AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING TRAVESTY THAT DEVIN GRAYSON FAILED TO TAKE THIS INTO ACCOUNT WHILE WRITING A CHARACTER AS BOTH A COP AND ROMANI AT THE SAME TIME.

Making Dick Grayson in specific a cop and writing him as one for almost a decade was a goddamn mess on SO many levels, and ending that for whatever reasons remains one of the best things DC has ever done for the character AND his fans. Now if fandom would only similarly cut him a goddamn break and let it goooooooooooooooo.

I usually focus on why cop Dick Grayson is so gross through a lens of how tone deaf it is given his childhood experiences with the system, because I don’t like stepping outside of my lane whenever possible, and this post is already more out of my lane than I typically care to go. But just because my focus is primarily on situational factors in Dick’s narrative and how they SHOULD affect his narrative choices IMO, that doesn’t mean those are the ONLY factors that make cop Dick Grayson so fucked up - its just those other ones, like his Romani heritage, aren’t really my conversation to have.

They are still very much there regardless.

But make no mistake, by pretty much all canon base material, unless you’re writing a version of Dick who is specifically white and specifically a cop just because you picked his name out of a hat to be the character in that role for the narrative you want to write - and I HMM heavily in your direction if this is anyone’s claim -  

Cop Dick Grayson, based on the time when he was ACTUALLY a cop, is by DEFAULT also Romani Dick Grayson. Even if you don’t explicitly name him as Romani in your fic, based on any given reader’s familiarity with the comics in which he was actually a cop, chances are, your reader is just as likely to assume he’s Romani as they are that he’s white, because the two things co-existed in his narrative.

(PS - If you’re also writing Dick’s support system within the cops as being Amy Rohrback and Officer Gannon, Gannon’s an explicitly gay character ALSO created as literal cop propaganda - see gay kids, even gay people can grow up to be cops and its all good, we’re all one people, blue people - well Gannon is FIRMLY in my lane to mention that hey don’t forget about cops’ historic and ongoing persecution of LGBTQ+ people and apathy about coming to their defense, consider maybe not trotting out gay characters as props to prop up police as nice friendlies especially if that’s literally all that gay character exists to be in your fic and has no real narrative or presence beyond ‘gay cop who is nice and charming’ kthxbai).

If you didn’t know this before, that’s fandom’s fuck-up, and now you know.

Which brings me to my final point:

If you are white in particular, PLEASE check yourself before you decide to throw in with police propaganda and contribute by actively writing outside your lane and choosing Romani character Dick Grayson as your mouthpiece of choice to defend police in any narratives you might be inclined to write right now with a ‘more balanced view of the zeitgeist’ or whatever the fuck you want to call it.

Co-opting a character of color to defend an institution whose brutalities against people of color are NOT something you can claim experience with, is like, so many light years from being a good choice you might as well be writing from fucking Naboo.

And once more, with feeling: 

DICK GRAYSON HASN’T BEEN A COP IN TWENTY YEARS. IF YOU WANT TO FOCUS ON COMIC BOOK STATUS QUO FROM TWENTY YEARS AGO IN EVERY SINGLE FIC, JUST FYI, JASON IS STILL DEAD, DAMIAN WON’T BE CREATED FOR ANOTHER TEN YEARS, TIM LOVES AND ADORES HIS BIG BROTHER, AND STEPH IS IN AFRICA WHILE PLAYING THE PART OF LIVING DEAD GIRL BUT HEY, YOU DO YOU. 

[omoi-no-hoka]

Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

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

It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.

[problematicwelshman]

The hottest of hot takes under the cut posted by request as a compilation of asks. All previous and current disclaimers apply. You’ve been warned. :)

Put this under scalding hot tea and under a jump, or redact, if you post any at all. You and others have hinted at this a few times & I suspect you're right. You got kind of scorched for this before - But now I think, with everything that's gone down and all the time ppl have had to see things for themselves, see things play out, etc. that ppl will be able to hear it. Here's the speculation hot-take: MS and AL did NOT meet at that bday party- they met earlier.

The party can always serve as a good cover for them though, since AL's BFF was Welsh and all and invited him. That way, in a pinch they can always tell ppl they met at the party- even if it looks terrible that AL got pregnant not even 2 months later. But MS is probably desperate for ppl never to know how he Really met her. I suspect he'd already been trolling AADA, among similar places who'd be happy to have an established actor 'drop by to pay an inspirational visit to the students!'

It's ideal for hooking-up with very young women - especially if they're down for a kind of 'exchange'. He would get what he wants in terms of fun/playtime and they would get would they need. This could also tie together the loose ends of 'just how in the hell was AL able to afford living in expensive cities like NYC and London anyway?' Maybe it was informal, maybe it was an actual sugar daddy-sugar baby site/service connection. Could be a million ways.

But it would be a solid means for MS to satisfy his 'proclivities', as you artfully put it. NYC is rampant with this kind of arrangement -there have been articles in major media about the sugar daddy-baby epidemic. As he's an older man who would have been way past the club scene to meet young women, I wouldn't put it past MS to go this route. Also, CDAN is not the only blind site out there. There are literally more other sites than I can count that have reported on him for years.

Like 5 or more years, about cheating and outside-of-relationship-use of 'professional services' to address his purported high level of 'physical needs' and BDSM-based interests. So, what happened? Well I think that AL realized MS was more than a paycheck - He was a mark. She would have had just as much opportunity as any of us to see what a softie he is, that he's just the type to go whole-hog and do the relationship with a girl he got pregnant and felt sorry for.

No hand 'em a check and say good-bye like so many other celebs. No, MS would 'do the right thing'. So, she sprang the trap. And here we are - MS, AL, baby and all the fall-out that goes with it. Seriously, have you heard of literally Any Person Ever - celebrity or not - who met someone and had a CHILD with them, and you don't know anything about how they met?

When ppl claim to be in a serious rship and procreate another human being together, you better believe they say something about how that important connection came about. We know how he met Kate (doing a play), how he met Rachel (filming a movie), how he met Sarah (at one of her Largo shows), because he spoke about all this. But MS and AL? Crickets. He's never spoken about how he met a woman he had a child with? And it's because of the obvious.

I suspect MS feels deep shame about how he & AL really got together. Shame is why he hid dating her. Shame is why he hid her pregnancy as long as he could. Shame is why we know nothing of how they met. And his shame is what keeps them together now. When he finally decides that he's over all that shame and he can move beyond it, well the whole charade will finally be over. Whew! Hot-take done.

This is honestly how I’ve felt about this entire situation. I haven’t said anything because I know how it will be taken just because of the first time I made a mention of it. I immediately dropped the subject for obvious reasons but am feeling quite validated to see someone else share this same sentiment about AL so I’ll go ahead and share my thoughts, as extreme as they may sound. I will preface this by saying take it with a grain of salt please.

The fact that there is no information about AL that exists beyond very public-facing social media like her Facebook & Instagram as a self proclaimed actress makes me believe she was some kind of call girl or something else in a similar line of work OR her info was purposefully scrubbed off the internet. To compare, her brother was an athlete who I assume got a college scholarship and went to UB and now lives in the states and works for Nestle. There’s an established progression to follow that checks out and it’s all on the internet and can easily be found out through regular means. Anna? Not so much. I’ve looked. I was able to find bits here and there like a blog she wrote for the cabaret listed on her acting resume years ago back in like 2011 that had loads of old pictures and linked to a facebook page which had more. Beyond that? I haven’t found anything. I’m not even sure if Lundberg is her real last name. Her brothers have different last names. The fact that these DM articles are popping up frequently also do play in to this. If they ARE paid, they’re establishing her name as Anna Lundberg with her profession as actress and associating her to Michael for google indexing and SEO reasons. It’s a purpose disconnect from something TO something else. It’s so searches for her lead to the Daily Mail rather than somewhere else. Obviously Michael doesn’t want people to know who she is or how they met, so he’s helping her cover up anything that might make them BOTH look bad. And I agree with everything else you said completely. As for the “actor mentor” or speaker thing, he’s done that. He’s listed as faculty even at RWCMD, so it’s a realistic idea that he’d do it at other schools such as AADA while abroad. 

I’ve heard about these “inner circle” type parties from the BC fandom where there’s matchmaking and all kinds of very hush-hush type activity. The more I think about it the more I feel like this is actually the theory that might be true. But as my shiny new disclaimers now say all over this blog, it’s all speculation, not factual, and is just commentary for entertainment purposes only. 

Gotta CYA, kids. ;) 

Update #1 (3-5-20): New information has been uncovered and shared with me that does allege that Lundberg is her real last name. 

[didanawisgi]

Boom and Bust: Why North American Freemasonry Continues To Decline

Posted on March 11, 2019 by Justin

“I feel the need to preface this article with a disclaimer and assure my readers that it is not my intention to offend anyone with the contents of this post. That being said, while I am extremely hesitant to even write this article I don’t feel apologetic about presenting the facts as I see them.

The fact is that this isn’t an article that I want to write, it’s an article that I feel that I have to.

I’ve recently had a few conversations with some brothers about the direction that our fraternity seems to be heading which really got me thinking. Granted, talks about this subject are not uncommon in our fraternity and any brother who has been a member for any length of time in North America has overheard or participated in one.

Rest assured, it is not my intention to dive into the data concerning our membership statistics and make predictions about what’s around the corner for Freemasonry. Bro. Lance Kennedy has already covered the numbers extensively with his article “Freemasonry Is Dying” and at this point, there is no need to restate what has already been brought to light. My analysis of this article can be found here if anyone is interested in where I believe the fraternity is heading.

What I do want to lay out in this article is why I believe those numbers are still in decline. In other words, we know the what, now let’s figure out the why.

Unfortunately, that why may make some people upset.

I now invite your attention to the chart below. Using the data provided by the Masonic Service Association of North America we can plot out a graph that gives us a general idea of what the membership trends in our fraternity have looked like in North America as a whole since 1924.

As you can see, membership topped out in 1959 and been in a steady decline ever since.

Before we move forward, let’s look at what we do know: The Silent Generation joined our fraternity in massive numbers around the middle of the last century which caused the membership swell reflected in the center of the graph.

Once the Baby Boomers came of age (the oldest Boomers would have only been around 13 years old in 1959) they joined the fraternity but not in the same numbers as the preceding generation.

At this point, you may wonder why we were still in decline when the Boomers were joining and the reason for this would be because our membership numbers were attempting to stabilize and return to equilibrium. Another way of thinking about it would be to consider the huge rise in numbers as an aberration which could only be temporary and would eventually return to normal.

Despite what is often said otherwise, the data doesn’t present any evidence that Boomers joined in excessive numbers.

We also know that Generation X generally had no interest in joining Freemasonry, or any of their father’s organizations for that matter. If they had then I may not have written this article as it’d be reasonable to predict that we’d be looking at a different graph where the decline levels back out and stabilizes somewhere between 3 and 2.5 million members.

What’s strange is that both the Millenials and generation Z (or whatever they end up being called) are interested in Freemasonry but, much to the frustration of lodges and Grand Lodges across North America, we can’t seem to retain them. The decline should be slowing down but new members are leaving Freemasonry as fast as lodges can get them in.

The question now, is why?

Generational Succession

Most readers are likely familiar with the idea of succession, whereby something is inherited, such as a title or a property. In the context of Freemasonry, generational succession occurs when stewardship of the organization is inherited from one generation by the other which is succeeding it.

The process of generational succession is typically very gradual, as younger members join and older members move on to that Celestial Lodge above. In time, the succeeding generation will inherit the mantle of full stewardship of the fraternity and the cycle begins over once again.

As each generation slowly becomes the majority stakeholder of each lodge and Grand Lodge, the fraternity itself will begin to reflect the societal values of that generation. This is why Freemasonry has changed so much in the ~300 years that the fraternity has been in existence. If a modern brother was placed in a lodge meeting 300 years ago then what was transpiring would be unlike any Masonic experiences he has had in the past. However, if we were to take a brother from 275 years ago and place him in that same situation then he would be much more familiar although he’d surely notice some differences as well.

So, in short, generational succession is important because it allows Freemasonry to gradually adapt according to generational expectations from the fraternity. Typically, the differences in expectations between one generation and its successor are small enough that, while certain things are sure to change, the differences aren’t so vast as to create contention among the brothers.

So…what happens if this succession skips an entire generation?

This is what happened when Generation X chose not to join the fraternity and the effects are threefold. It is my belief that identifying these will give us insight into why our membership is still in freefall.

The Three Results

1. The Boomers have held the stewardship of our fraternity for almost 40 years and they shaped the fraternity to reflect their values and expectations during this time. During this entire time, they have been the majority stakeholders of our lodges and Grand Lodges and, as such, they have had more control over policies and a longer period of time to implement changes than any generation that has preceded it.

In short, most programs and policies that lodges and Grand Lodges currently have in place, be they good or bad, were implemented or changed by Boomers.

My video “Seven Ways To Retain Millennial Masons” talks about what I believe young men are expecting out of Freemasonry, most of which is in very sharp contrast to what older brethren are assuming we want. This ‘disconnect’ is due to the gap in generational succession.

2.  As stated previously, the majority of our membership consisted of Boomers for several decades. Many of them have been involved for the fraternity longer than most young Masons, including myself, have been alive and in many lodges they were the brethren who kept the doors open when nobody was joining, there was nobody new to take an office, and the lodge didn’t have enough money to keep the lights on.

We owe them a great deal of gratitude for this.

On the other hand, when something has been under your care for a great length of time it can be difficult to hand over to someone else, which is what we are seeing 99% of the time when a new young and enthusiastic Mason wants to get involved with his lodge and start contributing.

When a man feels as though his input doesn’t matter then he eventually finds someplace that it does. This isn’t uniquely Millenial either, every man wants to be heard and feel as though he is contributing something.

3. The gap in generational succession means that there is a greater difference in expectations out of the fraternity than one would see if there had been no gap at all. Small changes are generally more easily accepted however young men seem to want very different experiences out their Masonic journies than the Boomers.

These expectations, when coupled with the other two issues listed above, are rarely met.

I believe this is why we lose young men almost as fast as we can initiate them.

Conclusion

I want to repeat and clarify that this article isn’t intended to criticize, belittle, or slander any of my fellow Masons. To those of you who have read this yet still feel upset with me then know that I wish you the best but I will not apologize for sharing the facts as I see them.

I don’t believe that the Baby Boomers have done anything wrong, they’ve simply done what every generation with stewardship of the fraternity has done before them, they’ve just had more time and influence to do so.

We’ve come to the answer to our last why: Young men are leaving the fraternity because it generally isn’t providing what they joined hoping to find.

There’s a hole in our bucket and it’s losing water faster than we can fill it up.”

Source: https://masonicimprovement.com/2019/03/11/boom-and-bust/

[rosaline-kei]

Don’t Go - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin nor the characters.

Parts: 「1」「2」「3」

Chapter 2′s Title: Mikasa

Synopsis: Even after what was thought to be the end of the chaos, Mikasa Ackerman struggles with conflict, confusion and her emotions. The Raven plans to leave for the Kingdom of Hizuru—without a proper goodbye to Eren Jaeger. What is she running away from? What is she afraid of? Are apologies enough to heal? (Contains Manga Spoilers)

Prompt Summary (from a user): The reunion of Eren and Mikasa after Eren comes back from Grisha’s memories. Even though Eren’s head got blown away xD, I think that he will transform into his Titan Form. After reading the latest chapter I Think Eren will apologize to Mikasa for everything he did to her after the time-skip and will probably tell her not to join that Kiyomi and the Hizuru Kingdom. Thank you!!!

Eren wouldn’t let Mikasa leave for Hizuru because he knows that she loves him and that her love has nothing to do with her Ackermann genetics.

Takes Place after the war is finally settled. When Eren apologizes to Mikasa and Armin and ofc to all the members of the 104. Squad

I don’t think that Mikasa will accept his apology immediately since she is the Person that got hit the hardest by Eren’s deeds and especially his words in chapter 112

Rated: T

Read it also on / Leave a Review at:

Ao3 or FF net

Author’s Note: I hope this was okay haha. T-T, like I said, long time since I written something so I hope this isn't shit lmao. I hope I managed to convey Mikasa's conflict and confusion well. The next and last update, which is where the apology scene will occur, will most likely be posted in December (Hopefully, December 1st) since I still have things I want to touch up in part 3, which I feel is still missing stuff. I also really want to focus more on and finish the next chapter for my other two ongoing AOT/SNK fanfictions (Bloodlust and Love; which you can find on my ff net or ao3 account) since I hadn't update them for a while due to exams, and I really want to update them before November ends. ALTHOUGH, if Love and Bloodlust are done earlier than expected, part 3 (the last part) will come out earlier too soo, wohoo? Haha. 

“…How do you know I’ll be able to stop her…?” Eren mumbled out subconsciously. Undoubtedly, he did want to stop her. He… couldn’t bare the idea of her leaving, especially when he hadn’t had the chance to speak to her. But given the fact she had given the red scarf back to Eren, he wasn’t even sure if she wanted to see him, or if she’d even listen to him at this point.

Armin only scoffed, followed by a brief laugh. “Because you’re Eren Jaeger… you would never let someone you care about so deeply, leave for a reason like that.”

--

“Mikasa! Wait!” Armin called out as he ran after her. “You’re… You’re not serious about leaving are you?”

The meeting had just ended. Kiyomi Azumabito had sent them a letter. In the letter, Kiyomi wrote that she’d like to invite Mikasa to stay over at Hizuru—to which was where the money-eyed woman stated was her home, her rightful home.

But, Kiyomi didn’t state how long she wanted or planned for Mikasa to live there.

All the letter contained were those persuasive words and the time their ship would be at Paradis’s docks to escort Mikasa back to her homeland. And should Mikasa agree, she was to meet them at the docks, wearing a ruby necklace (that came along with the letter), which was a welcome gift.

The meeting was short, because Mikasa was the first to speak, and to conclude. “I will go.”

Truth be told, everyone was caught off guard by her response. “Mikasa Ackerman,” Commander Hanji said in a rather reassuring tone, “Nobody’s forcing you.”

Whatever Hanji had assumed was Mikasa’s reasoning for wanting to leave, was most likely wrong. But Mikasa didn’t seem like she was going to correct her anyway. “If you feel obligated to go because you want Paradis to remain on good terms with Hizuru, then—”

“It’s not that.” She had cut her off, “I… I just want to go back home.”

And just like that, the meeting ended. There was no stopping Mikasa, everyone knew that. Plus, this was her choice to make.

Armin watched Mikasa leave the meeting room, feeling a surge of worry running in his veins.

Because she didn’t state how long she planned to stay there either.

And that’s how he ended up chasing after her.

. . . . . .

“I’m serious. I already said I want to return home—my homeland. I want to see what it’s like.” Mikasa stated as she continued to walk. And despite her attempt at sounding convincing, Armin wasn’t easily fooled nor tricked by her lies.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Armin frowned, “You haven’t even had the chance to have a proper conversation with Eren!”

Armin knew he was pushing it. He could tell from the way she suddenly froze in her steps that he himself had stepped into a dangerous, sensitive territory. Eren was a touchy subject for her, he knew. But someone had to say it—someone had to remind her what, or who, home actually was.

Silenced diffused into the air. The chilly air grew colder as a cool breeze blew by. Mikasa never knew she’d ever find herself hating the cold this much… it made her miss warmth. A warmth that she once grew so attached that was later forcibly taken away from her by a twisted fate. Her hand went up, wanting to adjust the scarf around her neck… to only realise she wasn’t wearing it.

Ah, that’s right… ever since then…

Mikasa shook her head. No. She didn’t want to remember any of that now.

“Mikasa?” Armin called out again, but in a gentler tone as his hand reached out, gripping her shoulder tightly. She felt comforted by his gesture, at the same time she still felt a sting in her heart from the words he spouted out earlier.

“… I have nothing to say to him.”

Lies. And even Mikasa knew she was lying to herself.

“Try again.” Armin murmured, urging her to be a little more honest with herself, “Do you really have nothing to say to him?”

Mikasa bit her lip before she proceeded to admit some truth, “I… don’t know what to say to him.”

“Trust me, Mikasa… if Eren could’ve apologised to you personally—if he had the time to apologise to you, to everyone a million times, he would… but he didn’t have time, and now he’s detained.” Armin sighed, “But when he’s released, he—” Armin cuts himself off halfway as he noticed a troubled expression forming on his beloved friend’s face. And because he knew her for so long, since childhood, he was able to read her like an open book.

“Is what he said back then still bothering you?”

Mikasa flinched, which confirmed his thoughts.

“You know… he didn’t mean it. He—”

“He had to.” Mikasa completed Armin’s sentence, her obsidian coloured eyes meeting his gaze briefly, before staring down at the ground. “I know that…” She muttered.

Yes, for the most part, she knew that he didn’t mean what he had said. But there was this haunting voice—and this other small part of her brain—that couldn’t help but still believe in his words. There was evidence to support it after all, like how she pinned Armin onto the table when he had tried to attack Eren when he had belittled her.

And as that image flashed in her mind, Eren’s distressing words began to echo.

Do you know what I hate most in this world? Anyone who isn’t free.

Slave. Slave. Slave.

I couldn’t stand to look an undoubting Slave who only followed every order.

SLAVE. SLAVE. SLAVE.

Ever since I was a kid, Mikasa…

Ever since. Ever since. Ever since…

I’ve always hated you.

HATE. HATE. HATE.

Always.

Out of the blue, Mikasa suddenly stumbled as she felt a sharp, and familiar piercing pain in her head. The headaches never left, huh?

Armin quickly supported her before she fell, but before he could say anything, Mikasa started to murmur in a stressful way, as if something was haunting her. “I have to leave…I need to… leave… then maybe I…”

Armin’s eyes softened as the raven trailed off. To some extent, he knew what Mikasa was trying to do by leaving. To some, travelling across the world would mean one is trying to understand… trying to comprehend, and trying to find themselves. Perhaps that’s what Mikasa wanted, to find herself. Or, she wanted to get away, run away… to find some form of distraction. But the blonde knew better—that her leaving and running away wasn’t going to resolve anything.

“You’re not a slave, Mikasa.” Armin said firmly, but he already knew that she would know that he never once saw her as that. Armin knew that these words were what she wanted to hear, it’s just… that it wasn’t him that she needed to hear those words from. “Remember that time, you defended me from Eren when were kids? You—”

Before she could let Armin finish, she pushed herself away from his support and began to walk off again. “Maybe that was because my Ackerman instincts hadn’t fully manifested…” She mumbled.

Armin frowned as he followed after her, “I thought you knew that he didn’t mean what he said? You know… his words weren’t true, right?”

“I know… I know that he didn’t mean what he said, but it doesn’t mean what he said wasn’t true.” And before Armin could retort, he found himself standing in front of the house Mikasa currently resided in. “Wait here.” She muttered before entering.

And when Mikasa came back outside, it wasn’t what she came out with that surprised Armin, it was what she said next.

“Return this to Eren after I leave…” Mikasa mumbled, as she passed the red scarf to the blonde gently. It took a while for Armin to process what she had just said.

It wasn’t like Mikasa to… give away something that she once treasured so much.

“I heard it doesn’t snow as often at Hizuru…”She quickly excused.

And we’re back with the lies, Armin thought tiredly.

“Oh, but don’t tell him I’m going to Hizuru. Nor this. I wouldn’t want to… he doesn’t need to know.” Mikasa added on, forcing a smile that made the blonde began to lose his patience with her lies.

“Mikasa! You’re overthinking this. This scarf… it means a lot to you… Eren… he… Mikasa rethink what you’re doing! I know you’re still hurt after what Eren said. But… time will eventually assuage the pain you have in your heart. And… Eren didn’t mean it! If you just talk to him, I can pro—”

“… Then tell me, Armin…” Mikasa said with the forced smile that remained plastered on her face, “What Eren said to me on that day… is there any proof that what he said was wrong?”

“Yes! Yes there is! Like I said, you…when we were kids, when Eren was talking bad about me, you punched him—”

“—And I also slammed you on the table when you tried to defend me.” Mikasa bit her lip as she said this, her tone suddenly overflowing with regret. “I’m… sorry for th—”

“Mikasa.” Armin didn’t seem interested in her apologies, he was keener in knocking some sense into her. “Please rethink about what you’re doing.” He persisted.

“…Don’t worry.” She reassured, and with the smile she had forced on her face, she made her way back towards the door of her house. “You have to face it!” Armin suddenly exclaimed with his fist clenched, “You’re running away now… from Eren… from everything… you need to face it! You… Just talk to him, Mikasa!” Despite his pleading tone, Mikasa continued to walk.

Is she really going to leave?

By now, Armin knew he can’t stop her but he continued. The only person who can stop her right now wasn’t here. He was somewhere else, lying in a goddamn cell.

“Why don’t you want to talk to him? What’s there to be afraid of?!” Armin began to shout. And that’s when the next four-word question slips from his tongue, that made the raven paralyse. “Don’t you love him?”

Once again, Mikasa felt a sharp arrow stabbing her heart, piercing it all over. And just like that, she remembered a question Eren had asked her before.

What am I to you, Mikasa?

And honestly till now, she doesn’t know. She answered him saying that she saw him as family. But now, with everything… with all these overwhelming emotions. She doesn’t know.

Most of all, she doesn’t know if what her heart was feeling was due to her raw emotion or due to her Ackerman genetics that supposedly made her cling to Eren.

Was everything a sham? She wondered. What am I so afraid of?

Ah, that’s right.

“I’m afraid… of my emotions.” Mikasa didn’t care to elaborate on what she meant by that. Regardless, that was the truth. She was never great with handling emotions—especially the overwhelming ones that she was currently suppressing, with much difficulty.

She was afraid of seeing Eren, because he had all the power to evoke one too many emotions out of her. And she was afraid, so afraid that one of those emotions would be associated with the pain she felt during one of the previous meetings she had with Eren.

Most of all, despite all reassurances, there was a small part of her that was afraid of confronting Eren to only hear him say: Yes, I still think you’re a slave.

Maybe Mikasa did love him, and maybe if she stayed, she’d realise how much she was in love with him.

But love can be painful, and it was pain that Mikasa was running away from.

The world is a cruel place. And sometimes, it can be so cruel to the extent it can make anyone forget about its beauty.

“…and what good will it do to your emotions, Mikasa, if you leave…?”

For some reason, Mikasa felt an itch at her eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

“You’re just confused, Mikasa! Just stay and you and Eren will—”

Mikasa turned back towards the blonde before he could finish his sentence, causing him to pause mid-way in his sentence and his eyes to widen. There were tears forming in her eyes.

If only she could be more honest with herself… if only she could understand her emotions better, Armin thought. After all, those tears of hers that streamed down her cheeks revealed all too much.

It just showed that she was still conflicted, about staying, about leaving… about everything.

“Armin,” She said in a tone meant to soothe, though it made him jump a little, “It’s getting late. You should go to bed… goodnight.”

The raven then reached out for her door knob, twisting and opening it, entering her house… but not without uttering, “Thank you, Armin.” before closing the door.

--

At the Dock – The Day when Mikasa is due to Leave for Hizuru.

--

Eren was now running.

The moment he heard the key unlocking his damn cell, he sprinted away and towards the docks. Clenched in his fist were a red scarf and a piece of paper where Armin jotted down the exact location where Mikasa would be at.

As he ran, he began to remember the things Armin said to him the other day…

The things he said about Mikasa.

But before his thoughts could dive any further, he spotted a figure standing at the docks, which he didn’t fail to recognize immediately.

“M…Mikasa!” He called out hastily.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

The figure turned, and his pair of emerald orb finally meets her obsidian orbs that soon widen in shock.

“E-Eren?!”

[vmstudies]

30+ things i learned in my first semester of college

Okay, so as a college freshman in her second semester, I wanted to write all this down before I forget it all or it becomes irrelevant. College is a trippy af time, especially for freshmen, and I know high schoolers are all freaking out trying to find what’s true and what’s not. So here’s what I learned my first semester of college, and some stuff I’m still learning.

Warning: this post is long af. 

disclaimer: I’m a nursing ROTC student so I’ve got like a million and one things on my plate at any given time, and I have a wake up call at 5:00am almost every day of the week, so if you have to/already do wake up early, this will be great for you.

1. Be patient. You’re going to have people around you doing all different things. You may not be going out, but your hall mates will. Learn to let go and let them be. Unless they’re screaming excessively in the hall at 3am. Then maybe say something.

2. Do all the extra credit you are offered. Most professors only have 3-4 exams and a final. At least 99% of mine so far have done that. Take what you can get and do everything to keep your grades up.

3. Time management is key. I personally suck at it, but I find ways. Unfortunately sometimes, for me, it means cutting sleep, which I would not recommend, especially if you’re waking up so early. But learn to manage your time the way that works for you.

4. Find a good pair of headphones. Some noise cancelling ones preferably. Those will become your best friends.

5. Coffee will be other your best friend. Even if you don’t drink it. I never had a single cup of coffee till first week of second semester. I drink a cup a day now.

6. Eat well. It doesn’t have to be a salad every meal, but find the healthiest options you can that you like. The Freshman 15 is real, and I gained it, but I’ve lost 10 pounds just by eating a portioned amount of each food group per day.

7. Exercise. This goes along with eating in preventing the Freshman 15, but it also helps with stress relief and focus among a million and one other health benefits.

8. Take chances. Nothing illegal and nothing that could jeopardize your health, grades, or future, but just remember that when a moment passes, you can never get it back.

9. You don’t have to be best friends, or even friends at all with your roommate. But make an effort to get along. My roommate and I learned very quickly that we were not going to be best friends like we thought, but we get along well enough, and that’s all that matters.

10. You’re probably not going to remain friends with all of your high school pals. Even the ones who go to school with you. I thought the group from my high school at my uni would be my best friends and now I only see them when my roommate brings them by.

11. Take a chance on everyone. You’d be surprised who could become the best friend you’ve ever had very quickly.

12. Colleges will want your living situations for next year very quickly. Don’t panic. Just get it done before rents go up.

13. Look for ways to contribute to your city. Volunteer at churches or food banks or homeless shelters or hospitals - wherever works best for you. You start to feel a part of a community when you give back to it.

14. Skipping class isn’t bad, but only when it’s done a few times. If you only show up for exams, you’re screwed, because there are things on the exam that won’t always be on the PowerPoints. TL;DR: show up to class.

15. Don’t drink after people. Mono runs rampant on college campuses, and it’s now airborne. Hand sanitizer is your third new best friend. 

16. Exam season isn’t that scary. As long as you’re maintaining your grades in a class, the finals should be okay. Should be.

17. Assuming you aren’t a commuter, if you have the ability to go home every weekend, don’t. The weekends are a time for you to hang out with friends and have fun at college. If you’re spending it at home, it’s not even worth it.

18. That being said, if you have the ability to go home “often” and you’re happy and comfortable at home, visit every once in a while. It’s good for the soul.

19. Many professors are there to complete research requirements. That being said, it doesn’t matter to them whether they’re good professors or not so long as they get their work done. That being said, you will have some shitty professors. Just work hard and beat them by beating their class.

20. You will have some professors who are, to put it nicely, absolute dicks. Again: beat them by beating their class. Ace that shit then never sign up for a class with them again.

21. Find the study style that suits you best. Rewriting notes is absolutely useless for me. This semester, my study style has become taking notes in notebooks in my dorm, and just having the PowerPoint up to add notes to the slides as my profs speak. It works.

22. Have someone in every class you can text and ask questions or study with. Cooperate to graduate, kids.

23. This one is huge. You will get homesick. It’s almost a total guarantee. It may not be immediate, but it will hit and it will hit hard. Don’t worry. Nobody’s freshman year is what they say it is. Yeah, you’ll find your group, but chances are you’ll spend the first semester drifting and asking if you’re the one person in the entire world who isn’t enjoying things. You’re not. We’re all in the same boat. Just keep drifting. You’ll find your group eventually. Who knows - they may be closer than you think.

24. Sororities and frats may seem like all that, but - at my university at least - while they’re huge here, they’re also a major pain in the ass. Rush for sororities was literal hell, and one girl I was talking to the other day said she lost 12 pounds in just that one week. Know what you’re getting into.

25. If you’re single and remain that way, don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong with you there either. People move at their own pace. My best friend has, like, 5 guys wanting to date her right now, and I have absolutely no one (that I know of). Don’t worry. Just keep doing what you’re doing. The right one will come eventually.

26. Know what you’re worth.

27. Get to class at least 5 minutes early. I’m always running to my 8:30 and it sucks.

28. 8:30 classes aren’t that bad. As someone who is most definitely not a morning person, I have yet to complain. It’s nice to get up and get going for the day.

29. 6:00pm classes suck. Mine ends at 7:15 and then I still have to go get dinner, which is in the opposite direction from my dorm, get back to my hall, shower, eat aforementioned dinner, do schoolwork and study, etc. It’s a pain.

30. Find something small you can do that makes you happy. For me, it’s Korean. I started teaching myself Korean halfway through last semester and I like to think I’m doing pretty well for someone self-taught. I also have a stack of notecards that hits the 26oz mark on my Nalgene. It’s kind of insane.

31. BUDGETING IS SO FREAKING IMPORTANT. I cannot stress this enough. And so is saving. If you get a paycheck or an allowance of any kind, put some of it away in savings every time you get paid, and try not to touch that savings money.

32. Be open to everyone else’s likes/dislikes/thoughts/feelings/opinions. You don’t have to agree or like it, but respect it. You’ll meet people who have all different hobbies, opinions, religious/political views. As long as they’re not out there preaching that we should all just kill each other or whatever, idk, respect it. Respect Dems if you’re a Republican; respect Republicans if you’re a Democrat. Respect Muslims and Jews and Christians/Catholics and Hindus and Buddhists and anything else you can think of. Respect.

33. Keep your dorm neat. Make your bed every day. Clean room=clean mind. Clean mind=better studying.

34. Do your laundry every week, y’all. Shit gets nasty.

35. Only bring what you need. If you find after 2-3 weeks you haven’t used it, send it home. Dorms are tiny. You need all the space you can get.

36. If you’re religious, find your religious community. It will be a great reprieve a few times a week. I was never overtly Catholic, and I’m still not, but it’s nice to get away for an hour a week. Plus after 5pm mass Sundays they feed us home-cooked food, and it’s freaking good. Take advantage of that.

37. Find a place on campus that reminds you of why you’re there when you have doubts or you’re feeling homesick. For me, it’s the first place I ever saw when I stepped on campus: the main lawn. It’s super relaxing and it’s a great reminder that I’m there to kick ass, get a degree, get a commission, and become the person I’m supposed to be in the process. It can also mean the difference between contemplation and a total breakdown. TL;DR: find a place that eases your mind.

That’s all I can think of right now, but if you have more that I missed, feel free to add on! Again, this is all from my own personal experience, and if you find that you don’t agree with one, okay. One size does not fit all. But this is just what I recommend. Have fun in college and good luck! Remember: YOU GOT THIS THING!