#I suppose this is sort of a prerequisite to found family? I don’t really know but you can tell what I’m going for

[itmeblog]

THERE WAS LITERALLY NOTHING STOPPING ME FROM WRITING FAN FIC ABOUT MY OWN SHIT!!

FUCKING NOTHING!!!!

(Maybe because I created this world it's canon now? But that is 1001% not my concern nor my problem)

Nova was alive. The pulse that ripped between her temples and settled angrily behind her eyes informed her as much.

She groaned, reaching in vain for memories from the night before. There were flashes: a bar, a party, another bar, a man, possibly a third bar and then…nothing. The rest of the night was ash and dust. She reached out for the glass SAWA should have left on her night stand and knocked something over sending shards of pain dancing in the space between her eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She ground her face into the pillow. It smelled of something sweet, herbs the people on this planet used to keep pests away.

“Fuck.”

Please be a hotel.

She couldn’t take another morning of awkwardly running into the members of a family of someone she could only vaguely remember.

Nova gathered what pieces of herself she could manage. Her mouth was dry, her head was attempting a revolt from her neck, and spending the morning retching in whatever passed for a toilet here seemed a half-decent idea. It only got worse as she sat up.

The room was sparse, just a bed really. Her clothes were strewn across the floor, mixed with an outfit Nova didn’t recognize, all sequins and scarves. A screen sat nestled into the far wall and flickered silently through a morning report, a perky looking reporter sang the GU’s praises in the subtitles that scrolled across the bottom.

A hotel room.

Thank God.

Nova’s attention landed wearily on the woman sleeping beside her. What had happened to the guy she’d been with? Had she ditched him? Wandered off and found better company? She tried to remember but all she could recall was him pinning her to a wall, the heat of his body pressed against hers and the fleeting thought, hazed by brandy and something bitter she’d been offered to smoke, that he wasn’t enough to silence the thoughts in her head.  

Maybe the woman had succeeded where he’d failed. Nova wasn’t sure. She couldn’t remember this woman at all.

That was supposed to worry her. Lulu would be concerned.

Nova shut the thought away with a viciousness that made her stomach pitch.

As it turned out, there was a proper restroom, though a prerequisite for puking was actually having eaten something in the first place, so it was really more about form than efficacy. Nova sent prayers to a porcelain alter, a thought that teased a near hysterical laugh from her throat.

God, she was tired.

She picked up her clothes, showered, and left her companion to sleep off whatever had happened the night before.

“Hey.” Nova leaned heavily against the front desk she only half-remembered approaching, rubbing her fingers against her temples as she reached for words.

“Yes?” The person behind the counter, some alien with six eyes that blinked asynchronously in a way that made the impossible task of focusing on where to look, harder still.

“I—, uh, shit, I don’t even know the fucking room.” She turned around like that might somehow make it clearer, but she distinctly remembered taking a lift. She was fucking this up. Breathe. New tactic. “I’m Nova. Did a Nova sign in a room yesterday?”

The receptionist typed something, every key stroke hit like an axe between Nova’s brows.

“Last name?” Thunder.

“Don’t have one,” except the art of opening her mouth properly had escaped her and everything had come out in a continuous nearly indecipherable donaveone. Which after receiving several blinks Nova repeated to marginal success.

“Mmm, there was a Nova NoStar.”

She cringed. “NoStar?”

The clerk nodded, well, sort of nodded. Bobbed. They had no neck or equivalent thereof.

“Goddammit,” her hands returned to her temples, her elbows to the counter, the effort of keeping herself upright just a bit too much when she had to deal with this shit. “Yeah, NoStar. I’d like to pay, yesterday and today.”

She’d have to burn this planet off the list. How fucking stupid did she have to be to give her real name? Sure, there were probably millions of Nova NoStars out there but Jeanne would find a way. Fuck.

Nova paid, the blaring of the screen as her transaction went through made her want to dash her head against the wall.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Nova blinked, waiting for the words to settle in her head and mean something. “Need? Oh, uh, yeah, fuck, is there someplace to get breakfast around here?” She glanced at the sun that filtered in through the small window by the receptionist’s desk. “Or lunch?”

The directions she’d received sent Nova to a small food stand that smelled of grease and the promise of revival. She couldn’t read the menu and simply pointed and was handed something that might have been bread and some sort of meat, along with a bottle of water. The man who ran the stand was some flavor of human, though Nova could hardly be bothered to parse his existence. Modified, maybe?

She tried not to look too hard at what he’d given her. It undulated a bit if she stared at it too long, like it wasn’t quite dead despite the steam wafting from it. The first bite reminded her that she hadn’t really eaten the day before and the thing was gone before she knew it. She licked the oil from her fingers and set on the water.

Thank god for small miracles. She felt halfway human.

The traffic of the world sang through the air above her, in large ships belching black into the skies and buffeted her from all sides in lower forms of travel, things with wheels and rails and low flying capabilities. Galactic Union banners waved high overhead. Somewhere a commercial played calling for people to sign up for positions at their embassies.

The Galactic Union: Be part of something bigger.

Nova didn’t recognize this part of the city. It was cramped and crowded, two things Nova actually liked while she was working, but now that she was simply eating and drinking her way through her savings, was simply another obstacle that teased the remainder of her headache from the corners of her mind.

That and with food and water sustaining her, what little of her mind that was able to rouse for non-essential activities busied itself chiding her for her stupidity or cycling through all the things she could have done to save Lulu.

If only she’d been faster.

If only she’d noticed sooner.

If only she wasn’t such a fucking idiot.

If only she hadn’t listened.

Nova, stay put. The words rang clear as a bell between her ears. And then she was there again, frozen. Watching.

Lulu smiled. The skin at the corner of her eyes crinkled in concern, for Nova or herself, Nova didn’t know.

Then Lulu was gone.

The air around Nova was too thin, her pulse was a thready hum. She walked faster as if that might somehow put some distance between herself and the memory. A horn blared and the world rocketed into focus as a vehicle stopped just short of ramming her full speed and settled instead for banging into her leg just enough that her palms slammed into the hood to keep her steady.

Nova stared, wide eyed at the driver, her breaths coming in pants.

Wasn’t this what she’d wanted?

Why hadn’t they been driving faster?

Why did they stop?

The curses that filtered in through her translator were colorful and fantastical. Her bottom lip quivered as tears pricked the back of her eyes.

Lulu wouldn’t want this for me.

Her hands flew away from the hood as if she’d been burned. “Sorry,” was all she offered as she hurried away, her leg protesting at her speed after enduring that abuse. The driver’s curses followed her until she turned a corner and pressed her back against the wall of some towering building. The stone dug into her back, rough and painful, and real.

Her hands shook with leftover adrenaline.

“Fuck.”

She was going to cry. She couldn’t keep doing this.

“Lulu wanted you to live, you fucking idiot,” she whispered. “How could you forget how to do the one goddamn thing she wanted you to do?”

[hargrove-mayfields]

Add A Link and See It Grow

Today’s the last day of the Harringrove Week of Love! The final prompt I chose was Found Family! Read this here or on ao3 posted by ej_writer !

Word Count: 7,305

Rating: T

“Are you serious right now Nancy?”

It was 7:30 at night when Steve heard his doorbell ring and, upon answering it, was met with a swarm of middle schoolers rushing into his house. He had plans to go out to the quarry with Billy in like, a half hour, he could not afford to be the babysitter.

“I’m sorry, Steve. My mom was supposed to watch the kids but she had to go out so she asked me to babysit, but I already told Joyce and Jon I’d help them plan Will's birthday party and it’s only a few days away now and-“ Nancy talked about a thousand miles a minute as she tried to justify dumping the brats on him.

“Whatever, it’s, fine.” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t worth arguing over either. “Aren’t they old enough to watch themselves at this point?”

Nancy didn’t even respond to that, just gave him a stern look that said ‘you’re watching these kids no matter what, get over it.’ She crossed her arms and squinted at him and, even if it didn’t really matter if he agreed, his resolve broke. “Alright, fine.”

She smiled and thanked him before hurrying back to Jonathan’s still running car. Steve sighed and braced himself before turning around to go back inside. The brats were known for wreaking havoc in a matter of minutes, and he wasn't looking to let them destroy his parents’ house.

In the five minutes he was outside they’d already raided the fridge of all of his pop, added the leaf to his dining table (how did they even know where that thing was?), had game pieces and boards thrown all over the place, and made a stack of their bags in the corner of his living room.

“Wait a second, is this a sleepover?” Steve groaned at all of the overenthusiastic nods he received. “Where am I supposed to put all of you little shits?”

Dustin shrugged. “You have enough rooms in this place to house the whole neighborhood. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Well, since nobody felt the need to run this by me first, I’m already busy. Can you dipshits handle yourselves for like, two hours?”

The look on Mikes face perfectly mirrored the one his sister had given Steve at the door. “Dude, Nancy will kill you if she found out you left us here alone.”

“Not if I kill her first for dumping all of you on me.” The threat had still stuck, she absolutely would kill Steve. There was no way he could get away with leaving them unattended.

He figured he could just call Billy and cancel, but that was really the last thing he wanted to do. He tried to come up with some compromise, but with all the kids pulling up chairs to his dining table with intentions of staying all night, he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

Dialing Billy’s number into the kitchen phone, he walks around the corner into the bathroom, shutting himself in as best he can around the phone's cord in an attempt at having some semblance of privacy from the six sets of prying ears in the next room, but he hears nothing from the other end.

He let it ring a few more times before he gave up, wrapping the cord back up and hanging the phone back in its slot. This wasn’t going to go over well.

Because it wasn’t like he could just be like ‘hey, I have to go do this, be back in a few’ when what he had been planning on doing was going on a date with Billy Hargrove. They were sneaking around behind the kids' backs, so that just wasn’t a luxury they had.

But Billy wouldn’t answer his phone, so he couldn’t explain the situation to him either, and now Steve was backed into a corner, and exponentially screwed.

At first, he was trying to just stay out of the kids’ hair, hover in the corner while they did their thing just to make sure they didn’t get it of hand, but he was feeling too jittery and nervous, so he pulled up one of the thousand extra dining chairs his mother kept around for dinner parties and joined in their stupid game.

For once, they were playing normal people games instead of that role playing thing he couldn't wrap his head around, so he could actually understand what was happening enough to participate.

Not that that meant he ever won, being outsmarted by these kids was his specialty. Round after round they ran circles around him, and he was getting frustrated enough he was considering making them sleep outside.

He was about to throw his cards down and quit for what was probably the tenth time already when he heard the telltale sound of Billy’s Camaro pulling into his driveway.

That was really bad. He’d stood Billy up, and he’d be pissed, he couldn’t let him just barge in here and make a scene in front of the kids. Because not only would that mean they knew Steve was not crushing on some imaginary girl or whatever he’d made up to thwart their suspicions, but that he was with Billy Hargrove of all people. They’d never let it go.

He shot a quick look at Max, who no doubt would’ve been able to recognize the sound of her own brother's car, hoping to somehow communicate to her to keep these other assholes occupied while he dealt with this. He was pretty sure Max already knew about them anyways.

Forfeiting again, he got up from the table and hurried towards the front doors.

Will called after him with a sympathetic, “It’s just a game, Steve!” which thankfully meant they either hadn’t heard or hadn’t recognized the sound of Billy’s car.

Holding up the pack of camels he always kept in his pocket, he turned around to face the kids, backing towards the door still. “Just need a smoke break.”

That seemed to appease them, and they went back to what they were doing. He practically ran the rest of the way to the door, as he opened and closed it before they could see the boy on the stoop.

Billy was standing there probably about to lay on the doorbell, something he always did just to drive Steve crazy, and seemed surprised at the way he came all the way outside and shut the door behind himself. “Listen, I’m on babysitting duty, so I kind of can’t do this right now.”

At the same time Billy’s face fell, Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach. This wasn’t about their rendezvous, turning up at Steve’s house usually meant he needed something, and judging from the way his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and the way he was worrying his lip between his teeth, it was something important. “Whatever, Harrington. I’ll get out of your hair.“

“That’s not what I meant.” Steve reached out and put his hand on Billy’s arm to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I want you to stay, I just, I needed you to know they were here.” The additional so you didn’t out us and ruin our lives forever went unsaid, but Billy knew the implications of being caught by the kids.

“I need your first-aid kit“ It was hard for him, asking for help, but these days it was something he needed a lot of.

“Okay.”

Without another word he opened the door and led Billy inside, making him kick off his muddy biker boots before following him up the stairs to where he kept the band aid kit in his bathroom. One of the perks of having a big house was that the kids, from where they were in the dining room, couldn’t see the door, and only heard them go up the steps.

This had become routine for them, Billy showing up at his door in need of a little TLC, and Steve desperate to give it to him, but up to this point they’d been able to evade the kids. He didn’t think it would honestly be all that bad if they knew, Billy’s sister was among them and probably wouldn’t let her friends run too wild with the information, but Billy had made him swear on his life he’d never let them, or anyone else for that matter, find out about it.

Of course he understood that. There was a reason this kept happening, these nights when Billy would show up at his door in need of assistance, and that reason, who’s name happened to be Neil Hargrove, would undoubtedly kill the both of them were he ever to catch word that his son was dating Steve Harrington.

Steve had the displeasure of meeting Neil in person only once in late December, when he’d dropped Max off at her house after a Christmas party at the Byers. Being that he was such a responsible and caring father, or at least that’s what he was for the public eye, he just had to meet the boy who was watching his daughter.

Steve’d been beyond unsettled by the unnecessary firmness of his handshake, the distant look behind his so obviously practiced smile, the way Billy, with his arm in a cast for reasons he wouldn’t tell anyone, loomed in the corner as Neil did his interrogation.

When he was satisfied with the answers he’d been given, sure that Steve wasn’t carting the kids around because he was a creep or something, he’d let him go with a slap to the shoulder that was a little too hard to be friendly, and made Billy, maybe as a show of some sort of old fashioned respect, walk him back to his car.

“Did he do that to you?” Maybe it was because his experience with his own father had made it easier to recognize, but Steve was pretty sure he had a good idea of what was going on here.

Billy kept his eyes downcast and his shoulders squared, defensive in a way that was distinctly un-Billy. The broken arm must have been preventing his fighting instincts from taking over, or maybe it was the guilt from already beating the shit out of Steve once. “Maybe.”

That was enough of an answer for him. “Look, if you ever need anything, just like, I don’t know, come find me or something, man.”

Billy’s head snapped up to look at him. Steve could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to think of some response, but that had gotten to him. He kept his lips pressed in a flat line, and stared at Steve like he just grew a second head.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, just, my door is always open, or whatever.” It was extremely awkward, Steve offering help to the boy who’d literally just beat the shit out of him and concussed him like a month ago, but he could see through him.

The scar in his eyebrow didn’t come from their fight, nor did the cast on his arm. Seeing the way Neil acted, the saccharine smile he wore as he made subtle threats on him when he literally did nothing but drive his daughter around, he had enough to figure out that those injuries had been from what Billy had faced once he came home that night.

Billy hadn’t said anything, just scoffed and turned around to go back into his house, but a week later he showed up at Steve’s house, having gotten the address off of their sort of mutual friend Tommy, with a broken nose and bled all over his living room carpet, and the rest was history.

Steve walked him into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet seat, popping open the first-aid kit where it sat on the tiled counter. “Where’re you hurt?”

A nervous habit of his, Billy was chewing on the side of his thumb nail. His gaze flickered between Steve’s face and the framed painting behind him on the wall. “S’my ribs.”

Steve got him to shrug out of the two different jackets he was wearing, his first winter in the Midwest had proved to be far too cold for a Cali-raised boy like Billy, and pull the Henley shirt he had on over his head. The damage hidden underneath was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

Reaching out, Steve gingerly touched the deep purple bruises littering the other boy's chest and ribs. He felt breathless, this was by far the worst he’d ever seen it. “Jesus, Bills.”

Billy wasn’t very good at accepting sympathy from others. It made him feel all squeamish to be fussed over, and Steve was the king of fussing over him. He muttered, “Think there’s a cut towards the back.”

Steve wrapped his fingers around Billy’s forearm and gently pushed his arm up over his head to inspect the damage, and sure enough, there was a gash about 6 inches long on his left side. “What the hell did he do to you?”

Billy sniffs, looks away and says, like it’s nothing, “Steel-toes break the skin easier.”

Every time they did this, Steve’s heart broke into a million little pieces. The nonchalance of it all was the worst part, the way it was so normal for Billy to have his father kick him until his ribs were bruised black and bleeding, it made him so sad to see his Billy that way.

He let Billy put his arm down and crossed his own arms over his chest, “You’re gonna need stitches.”

“You know how to sew.” Another shot right in his heart, Steve didn’t know how much of this he could handle.

“Barely. And this is completely different.” Steve stepped forward and put his hand on the side of Billy’s face, keeping him from looking away again to stare at that stupid painting on the wall. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it, Stevie. Either you do it or I will.” If Billy gave an ultimatum, he meant it.

He definitely didn’t know how to sew, it was a skill considered too feminine to be taught to a son despite its usefulness, so he never learned how, but if Steve didn’t agree he would’ve very much done it and hurt himself a thousand times more in the process just to prove a point

So Steve reluctantly did it, made Billy hold his arm over his head and turn to face the other wall so he could see it better. Not that he was an overly emotional person, or maybe he just wouldn’t admit he was, but the sight before him put tears in his eyes.

Billy caught that, and despite the swell of nervousness in his own chest as he saw Steve threading a needle from out of the kit, he offered comfort to his boyfriend.

“Only a few more months before I’m outta there, then we won’t have to worry about this shit any more.” Billy would turn 18 in June, just under three months from now, but when he showed up at Steve’s door bloodied and bruised every other day, that long stretch of time offered no comfort.

It wouldn’t be as easy as Billy seemed to think it was to leave. He wouldn’t have any money, the Camaro wasn’t in his name, so he wouldn’t have any way to get around, and he didn’t even know where he would stay yet. That was all hypothetical for if he’d even be able to leave too.

With an abusive father constantly looming over his shoulder and keeping tabs on him, he’d know he was going to leave and try to stop it at all costs. It was only a matter of time before he started trying to manipulate Billy into staying.

It clearly didn’t have the desired effect on Steve. Billy’d even offered his assurances with a smile, but his boyfriends face stayed grim as he wiped at the cut with an alcohol pad so he could start to try to stitch it shut.

They stayed silent after that, while Steve tried to steady his shaking hands for long enough to get the needle in and out of Billy’s skin without hurting him too bad. The only break in the silence was the occasional gasp from Billy when Steve made another hole in his skin, or the noise drifting up from when the kids started yelling downstairs.

After a few more times in and out he was able to tie it off, the sutures were sort of crude, but were doing their job, and he made Billy move his arm all around to make sure they wouldn’t tear right through his skin. Once he was appeased, he made him put a new shirt on, the other one stained with his blood would have to be washed.

Billy stood up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “I’m gonna be okay baby.”

Steve reached his arms around the back of Billy’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I know but-“

Cutting him off with a quick kiss, Billy interjected. “It doesn’t matter about him as long as I have you.” Another peck to his lips. “Love you.”

It hardly did anything to cheer Steve up or comfort him, but there wasn’t anything that could when every night, he sent his boyfriend back into the arms of a monster. He sighed and ran his fingers through the long hair at the back of Billy’s neck. “I love you too.”

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when Billy pulled away to grab his jacket off of the counter. Shrugging the layers back onto his shoulders, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket again. “I should go. The nerd herd’s gonna wonder where we went.”

“I want you to stay.” Steve kissed him one more time. “Not gonna let you go back to him yet.”

Billy looked like he wanted to protest, but Steve must’ve been looking as sad as he felt, because Billy sighed and gave in. “Fine. But your kids aren’t going to be too happy about that.”

“They’ll be fine.” Billy always seemed to underestimate just how much the kids liked him.

It was true that they hadn’t been his biggest fans at first, but when they first started doing this, Steve made him swear he’d apologize to them, and he did.

They were smart kids, they understood how the situation had looked when he got pissed, all of them hiding from him in a strangers house, and they understood the implications too of him begging Max to leave with him and his arm being broken literally the next day when she hadn’t.

It wasn’t immediate forgiveness, they were pretty wary around him until they felt he’d done enough to prove that he meant it when he apologized, but they’d all more or less accepted it by now.

Because he hadn’t stopped after just saying sorry. The words themselves never meant much to him at all, what with the situation he grew up in, so he tried to show them he was sorry.

Which was how he had become the secondary chauffeur after Steve, taking more than just Max home after trips to the movies or the arcade, and consequently how he had started helping them sneak around.

More than a few times he’d helped them smuggle Eleven out of her dad's cabin, because he understood feeling trapped, before he had his own car Neil had been able to keep him under 24/7 surveillance. He always covered for Lucas too, driving him home first before anyone else, and when Neil wanted to know who Max had been with, he’d lie and say it was just Dustin or El. After what happened it felt like the least he could do, but Steve was right, by now, they were pretty much over it.

Either way, he didn’t exactly want to have to explain away why he and Steve had disappeared upstairs for the last hour, hour and half. They might forgive him for his stupid outburst, but he couldn’t be sure where they drew the line.

Steve smiled at him and wrapped his fingers around Billy’s wrist, pulling him out of the bathroom and back through the hallway to the stairs. “Just follow my lead.”

Any semblance of a plan was lost when they made it back to the kitchen, Billy leaning in the doorway while Steve announced his presence, and they saw Eleven washing blood off of her hands in the sink.

There were some things Billy knew he’d never understand about these kids, Steve had made him promise he wouldn’t ask questions even though that was what had got them into a fight in the first place, so, despite his confusion, he didn’t even try to ask.

Not even when Steve put his hands on his hips and reprimanded her. “Oh, you were not spying on me.”

She smiled coyly. “I was.”

Billy felt the blood drain out of his face, felt his heartbeat skyrocket as he and Steve exchanged a look of fear. Steve stuttered and started trying to explain. “Listen you guys-“

Dustin cut him off, always overly eager to complain. “She won’t tell us anything.”

Nodding, Mike agreed. “She says it’s an ‘invasion of your privacy’.” He used air quotes around the last part as if spying on people in their own homes wasn’t exactly that.

The fear on Steve's face shifted into anger as he pointed his finger in Mike's face. “That’s because it is. I told you little shits a thousand times: no spying.”

Lucas interjected, agreeing with his friends. “What’s it matter if she won’t tell us anyways?”

Max fixed him with a deadly look and scoffed. “It matters because she didn’t want to and you made her. Why should she tell you what she saw?” Typically, Max would be on Lucas’ side, but they must’ve been fighting again.

Billy, watching the scene unfold while leaning on the door frame, clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth and announced. “Seems like I walked into something.” He turned to walk away and called over his shoulder. “Catch ya ‘round, Harrington.”

Before he could get away, Steve grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tugged, stopping him dead in his tracks. “No way. You’re not leaving me to deal with this by myself.”

“Your children aren’t my responsibility.” He reminded him, but he had no actual intentions of actually leaving and they both knew that.

The kids hadn’t understood at first why Steve got along with Billy after he’d been the one to be beat up, so, to put it in a way that made sense to the brats, they pretended to argue so it seemed like they were only begrudgingly hanging out, and so far, they hadn’t seen through it.

Steve had a retort ready, but Dustin beat him to it. The kids were constantly rubbing it in Billy’s face that they’d turned him into a babysitter too. “Yeah, we kind of are.”

Lucas, obviously only trying to get some sort of points towards Max’s forgiveness, agreed. “Especially since one of us is your totally awesome sister.” Max just rolled her eyes at his attempt.

Realizing he was still holding onto Billy’s jacket, Steve pulled him back into the room and let go. “You’re staying.” He turned to Will and asked him like nothing had happened, “So what are we playing?”

Unsurprisingly, the kids had developed tiny attention spans. They'd gotten quite the taste for crazy adventures, so unlike normal teenagers, activities like watching movies and playing truth or dare all night wouldn’t really do it for them.

Since Steve had left, they’d apparently played through two different games and had been about to start a third before they decided to spy.

Mike tells them, “We’ve narrowed it down to Uno and Monopoly.”

“Mike, Will, and Max vote Monopoly. Me, Lucas, and El vote Uno.” Dustin further explained, “We need a tie breaker.”

“I’m not any good at Monopoly. Too much counting.” Steve nudged Billy with his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Last time I played Monopoly I broke someone's nose, and I’m colorblind. Don’t think my vote counts.” Neither of those facts are particularly untrue, but the only reason Billy brings them up is because he’s still trying to deny that he’s their babysitter.

Staying for Steve, whatever, that was fine, but playing board games with the little shits, that would be giving in, admitting that he wasn’t above hanging out with middle schoolers on a Friday night.

But he doesn’t get out of it, because with the excitement of all of the kids combined, Will pipes up. “Don’t worry, I am too! My mom put shapes on all the cards so I can tell the difference.”

He hurries and fishes out the playing deck, bringing it straight to Billy to look through. “See! Reds are squares, greens are circles, yellows are stars, and blues are triangles!”

Steve smirks at Billy, at the defeated look on his face. “Looks like you’re not getting out of this one, Hargrove.”

Tumblr decided this was too long, go ahead and finish reading on ao3! Over there I’m ej_writer !

[silentauroriamthereal]

So, I watched Happiest Season yesterday, and I have thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Spoilers abound and this is long, so I’ll put this under a cut. 

Happiest Season: a review

You have to ask yourself how “happy” a happy ending really is when you glance down at the time bar on the film and see that there’s less than fifteen minutes left and none of the story’s problems have been even remotely resolved.

Skip to the closing credits, and I hadn’t changed my mind. This is a “happy” ending where a great deal of the problems in the plot were left either completely unresolved, or whose happiness wasn’t earned – wasn’t properly fleshed out, developed, supported, or in fact, even happy.

What an incredibly toxic family the Caldwells are. Let’s start with them: there are three daughters. Sloan has apparently cemented her parents’ permanent disappointment by having left a promising legal career in favour of raising a family. Side tangent: are we really still having this discussion, in 2020? This binary choice between family OR career? Besides, Sloan evidently developed a different, and very lucrative career. I also strongly dislike the way the perception of her marriage ending is portrayed as a failure. Her awful parents both resent her having left the legal field, yet have refused to now see her as anything other than a parent, ignoring her new career choice and, it seems, literally anything else about her. Then we have Jane, who is overtly abused. Treated as lesser than anyone else in the family apart from technical support with malfunctioning printers, Jane is constantly criticized, chastised, literally told to not put herself in the centre of the family for a holiday photo. I was horrified and devastated by the wanton destruction of her painting at the end, too. I’m happy for her that her book got published and that she found success there, but I hate that this brutal, completely unnecessary destruction of her art happened and was totally overlooked.

I’m going to come back to Harper, because there’s a LOT to say there.

The way the parents, Tipper and Ted, treated Abby, was appalling from start to finish. Leaving aside the ENTIRE question of the secret girlfriend thing, if my family ever treated a friend or even distant acquaintance the way the Caldwells treated Abby, I would be furious with them. I used to frequently bring friends who were international students or just on their own for the holidays to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas festivities. These people were so, so, so incredibly rude to Abby, from ignoring her when she first arrived to giving her a terrible bedroom with a door that doesn’t lock, to walking in on her multiple times while she was changing or in bed – that level of complete disrespect infuriated me! Just allowing those awful kids to be in her private space without any sort of discipline, consequences, or apologies was unacceptable. The way they treated Abby after those same kids – which she was stuck with, without any sort of request to watch them – planted that necklace on her, was unacceptable. The utter lack of apology for having literally accused her of theft, for accusing her multiple times after that – WOW. Treating Abby as though she was the unexpected, extra guest at the restaurant that first night, and giving the ex-boyfriend the parents kept shoving on Harper the proper one was unacceptable.

Then there’s how Harper treated Abby. Let’s start with the restaurant: first of all, had my parents pulled that stunt on my friend/guest/secret girlfriend, I would have let them know then and there that it wasn’t okay. And then I would have, I don’t know, asked the staff to bring a proper chair, and if that turned out to be impossible, I would have insisted that she take mine instead, and sat on the little chair myself. Asking anyone to closet themselves is an act of violence, and watching that as a member of the LGBTQ2+ community was actively harmful to witness. Again, a lot of the crap that Harper subjected Abby to would have been awful no matter WHO Abby was: you don’t abandon your guest to hang out with old friends. If they’re ready to go home, then you go home with them. It’s basic hospitality. Considering that Abby was Harper’s partner, that’s a whole extra layer of harm. THEN add the ex-boyfriend, a horribly-treated ex-girlfriend, and toxic old friends to the mix, and you have something beyond appalling. Adding this stuff on top of not standing up for Abby to her family, not insisting that she be given somewhere proper to sleep during her time in her parents’ house, not insisting that she be treated with the most basic respect, not defending her during the whole jewellery theft situation, and even going along with the parents’ de-invitation to that dinner – that’s inexcusable. You don’t treat other people that way, much less your partner. Then add Harper calling Abby controlling, while simultaneously having the nerve to get angry about Abby spending time with Riley, which is possibly the only good thing that happened for Abby during that entire, awful trip – yeah. I was finished with Harper by that point.

Harper also actively participated in the way her sisters were constantly put down by their parents. The responsibility of being the privileged favourite is to use your status to bring others up. Harper doesn’t appear to have any sort of spine or courage whatsoever. It was only after she was forcibly outed by Sloan – and such was her privilege that the parents believed that it was a “malicious” lie rather than a “shocking” secret – that Harper even admitted the truth, and that was only after forcing Abby to watch her deny it yet it again. While I did love John (the gay best friend)’s entire speech about someone’s love not being the same thing as being ready to come out, there is nonetheless a ton of harm in forcing your partner watch that. It does affect them. It does disavow their identity at the same time, when they’re in a relationship with you. Her pattern of behaviour of throwing other people under the bus, like Riley, is very much intact.

I completely comprehend Harper’s fear of being rejected by her family. Apparently it was a well-founded fear, based on her awful, awful parents. That’s one of the reasons why the ending didn’t resonate for me at all: it wasn’t earned. Harper’s turn-around from being completely unwilling to have her parents know the truth to claiming that Abby was the only thing that mattered to her, came out of nowhere. It wasn’t a supported development. It happened too quickly. Similarly, the parents both going from being just about the worst parents on the planet to having a VERY sudden change of heart and behaviour, just happened unbelievably quickly. There was no questioning the entire history of their practises or what was wrong with them, no questioning how they’d treated any of their kids. The whole “consequence” for Ted was deciding, of his own accord, not to align himself with a politician who would force Harper to zip it – sorry, continue to zip it – about her identity. He shouldn’t have aligned himself with that woman in the first place. No one ever apologized to Abby about the way they treated her from start to finish, from patronizing her for being an orphan or the constant lack of respect shown her, to the false accusations of theft. Not a single part of it was atoned for at any point. Even Tipper being so disgusted with Abby’s ipad photography skills was disgusting. You just don’t talk to other human beings that way, and there was no resolution for me on any of this. There were also no consequences for Sloan’s horrific, SUPER-public outing of Harper, for Harper’s destruction of Jane’s painting, for the kids’ planting of the necklace on Abby, or for anyone’s horrendous treatment of Abby in general.

So yes: when you’re less than fifteen minutes out from the end of a supposed romantic comedy that was more upsetting to watch than entertaining or funny, and you’re actively rooting for the main character to walk away from her so-called partner and her toxic family, that’s not good. I’m not sold on the “romance” aspect, either. John (Dan Levy’s character) was the only good part of this movie, for me, and that’s overlooking his completely rude ignoring while on his phone at the beginning, or his negligent care of the animals he was supposed to be taking care of. (Gross, again – animals’ lives have value, too, and if my pet sitter killed my pet through negligence while I was away, I would be furious!) But his point about “sticking it to the patriarchy” in terms of Abby asking Ted for his permission/blessing to marry Harper was spot on. For all the hype about this being a progressive, lesbian, holiday rom-com, this film managed to perpetuate a lot of gross aspects of straight, white, misogynistic, heteronormative culture, like women being the property of their fathers and needing to obtain a male parent’s “permission” to marry another human being. The only person’s “permission” that was needed here was Harper’s, and then it’s not about permission – it’s about two adults making a consensual decision to commit themselves to each other. It’s great if you have the support of family – aka, BOTH parents, on BOTH sides – but that support is a bonus, not a prerequisite. Perpetuating the false dichotomy of family vs career for women only, is a harmful one to keep perpetuating. That question is never asked of men.

I was honestly kind of disgusted that Abby chose to stay with Harper by the end. I get it, but it definitely didn’t leave me with warm, romantic feelings. It left me with the deflated feeling I invariably experience whenever a woman makes the choice to be the bigger person and submit herself to a damaging situation or relationship. Mostly what I’m left with is anger that no one spoke up for Abby at any point, even John. That, and anger and sorrow over Jane’s painting. So yeah: it wasn’t as bad as bury your gays, but it also wasn’t really a happy ending for me, or super enjoyable to watch. Do better, Hollywood. Do a lot better.

[celestelavie]

Campus Tours || Athena & Celeste

TIMING: About a week ago PARTIES: @athenaquinn & @celestelavie SUMMARY: Since they’re staying in town long term, Celeste decides to go to UMWC to get information on their nursing program. Athena shows a lost Celeste around

After a particularly grueling shift at the diner, Celeste had decided she needed a step in the right direction. College had never made much sense, being on the run all the time, but if they were going to be making roots here, now was a good time as any to start. It felt like a huge step to be taking with the threat of her parents still looming, but she had to believe even that would be under wraps soon enough. She could at least hope as much anyway. She figured she could visit the Admissions office as the very least and get an idea of what her next steps needed to be. However, she found the campus to be a little overwhelming to navigate. She stared down at the map on her phone, trying to figure out what part of it corresponded with the building. She’d been grumbling at her phone when she noticed a figure in front of her just in time to prevent herself from a collision. “Sorry,” she started, “Oh! You’re Athena, right? Ariana’s friend?”

School was out for the summer, but that didn’t mean that Athena wasn’t still on campus. She liked going swimming in the pool and she had friends taking summer courses. It was also a place in town that she knew her parents were fine with her spending time at. They had to be, even though they didn’t wish for her to live on campus. Today she was simply going for a walk around campus, enjoying the nice weather. She wondered where her brother was - he had still not yet come home, and part of her worried for him, no matter how angry she was at him for leaving in the first place. Caught up briefly in her own thoughts she didn’t see the woman who was about to run into her, but luckily the woman stopped before the two of them collided, and Athena briefly side stepped, ready to wave and be on her way when the woman began talking to her. “Oh! Yes, I am! You must be Celeste.” She grinned, turning to face the woman. “How are you? It is such a wonderful sort of coincidence to run into you.”

Of all the people to nearly run into, Celeste had to be grateful that it was a friend of Ariana’s. Using the map on her cell phone to navigate the campus had proven to be more difficult than she would have liked. Plus, it was good to actually meet Athena. By all indications, she was a good influence and had gotten Ariana in with that summer soccer camp she was so excited for. She extended her hand forward to shake Athena’s, “It’s good to meet you in person. I’ve heard great things about you and your cookies were quite delicious.” She stuffed the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and answered, “Oh, I’m doing well. I was just looking for the Admissions office, actually. The map was a little confusing… hence, the near collision.”

She’d been wondering if she was ever going to get to meet Celeste. Athena was always curious about other siblings - and the fact that Celeste was a good deal older than Ariana just added another layer of fascination into the whole thing. They also seemed to get along well. Better than her and Orion, certainly, though Athena was self-aware enough to know that though she and her brother might have appeared like ideal siblings, they had not been that for years. Namely due to his refusal to believe in his destiny - or at least that was what she told herself. “It is good to meet you in person too.” She took Celeste’s hand in her own and gave it a quick, solid shake. “I am glad you have heard good things - and oh, I’m so glad! Baking and sharing what I bake is just the best.” She tossed a bit of her hair over her shoulder. “Well, you know, I might be able to help you with that. You were headed sort of in the right direction. What do you say? We can walk and chat along the way? If you don’t mind the company, that is.”

Celeste welcomed the idea of someone helping her find her way to the Admissions Office, especially a friend of Ariana’s. It was becoming more and more apparent that the younger woman really was a perfectionist. Celeste couldn’t even remember the last time she baked something though she was sure it was probably chocolate chip cookies. “Well, I can’t complain since I get to eat some of the baked goods. I’ve never been much of a baker myself.” She shifted her purse on her shoulder and exclaimed, “I’ll gladly take the help. I was beginning to feel a bit silly not being able to find it. Chatting would also be nice.” She smiled as she followed Athena’s lead, thankful she ran into someone she sort of knew to help her find her way. “How’s everything been with you? I know Ariana mentioned you two would be volunteering at a soccer camp together this summer.”

“Well, if you ever want some recipes to try out, I’ve got some good starter ones to try.” Athena grinned. “I won’t go all out and send you complicated ones, don’t worry.” She gave a small shrug. “Just let me know.” She grinned as Celeste accepted her offer of help. Good - this would give her a specific task for the day. Not to mention, she was curious to get to know Celeste more. She liked Ariana, and it was good to get to know the family members of those you were friends with, wasn’t it? “Please, this campus is a mess of planning, sometimes. You’d think an admissions office would be the easiest thing to find and yet it is far from it.” Adjusting her pace so that she was in line with Celeste, Athena grinned. “Chatting would be nice. Things with me are good. College is out for the summer, which is nice, though I do like school so part of me is also sad - but I think I did very well in all my classes this semester so I am pleased. Ariana and I will be doing that! Starts the end of June, and I’m super excited. Ariana’s such a great soccer player, and it’ll be nice to have her around. How about you? How are the repairs on your home going? I hope well, though I know these things can sometimes take forever.”

“I may take you up on that one of these days,” Celeste responded with a smile, “Thank goodness, I remember my mom tried to have me make a meringue once without any previous guidance on it and it… well, it turned out disastrous.”  She welcomed the chance to get to know one of Ariana’s friends. One of these days, when they were able to have a place of their own again, they’d have to have her over. As they walked through the campus, Celeste laughed. “Yes, they definitely didn’t make it easy. I was hoping to get some information on what I’d need to do to get myself enrolled in the nursing program.” She kept pace with the younger girl and listened as she talked about her summer. It was rare to see someone who liked school, but she supposed she understood. She seemed like a very ambitious young woman. “Well, I’m glad to hear your grades are doing well. What brings you to campus if you’re out of class for the summer? I know she’s really excited for the camp, too. She’s always loved soccer.” At the mention of their home, she shifted her glance a bit. It wasn’t like she could explain it anyway, so she shrugged, “It’s coming along. Hopefully we can be home soon.”

“Absolutely, just let me know.” Athena grinned. “Meringues are incredibly tricky to get right, so I will be certain to not give you any of those recipes. Admittedly, even I do not love working with meringue, so I do not have many recipes that even use that.” She found Celeste surprisingly easy to talk to - though she supposed that she should not have been so very surprised, in the end. Athena liked to think of herself as someone who could win most anyone over. Certainly something she’d used to her advantage on more than one occasion. So far though, at least in this conversation, everything she had said was filled to the brim with honesty - or at least as much so as she ever properly used. “Oh, nursing! That’s so fantastic! One of the girls in my sorority is starting there in the fall, it’s supposed to be a wonderful program.” She glanced over to Celeste. “Thank you, and well - I like the campus, and it gives me a nice space to walk around and collect my thoughts. It’s nice to walk around here and not have to focus on thinking about an exam or paper or project that I’ll have to do.” She bit her lip. “I’ve loved soccer for years too. It seemed like a nice thing to mention to her, especially given how skilled she is.” She watched Celeste’s expression change for a moment at the mention of her home and for a moment (though only a fleeting one) Athena wondered if perhaps that was not the best sort of question to have asked. “I hope you can be as well.” She continued to make her way through the campus, past a few classroom buildings, as she pointed them out, “that’s where some of my favorite classes have been held. Introduction to Neuroscience, for one. The class that I came into excited for and left knowing that it’d have to be one of my majors.” She looked back over at the other woman. “Can I ask - what draws you to nursing?”

The talk of meringue brought Celeste to a not so pleasant flashback of a job she worked back in San Diego at a bakery. It had been short lived due to how many meringues she had messed up and she had no intention of putting herself through that kind of torture again. “That’s a relief. If it’s meringue-free, I’m sure I can make the recipe work and not have flashback nightmares to an awful job I had when we lived in San Diego.” Somehow the news that Athena was in a sorority hadn’t been surprising to her. Everything about her screamed Type A from her school ambitions and her involvement as a student athlete. Even down to the enjoying campus when she didn’t even have to be here. It was a nice enough campus, but she had to imagine a break was nice. She knew Ariana was always eager to leave school unless she had practice. “Maybe I’ll see her in classes then. I’m sure I have a ton of prerequisites to take. I haven’t taken any college classes.” Hell, she hadn’t even graduated high school though she had gotten her GED. Technically, she also had a very convincing counterfeit diploma and transcripts, too, but she was inclined to take the honest route. She walked along with Athena, bag swinging from her shoulder and mused, “I suppose I can understand that. The campus is nice and I’m sure has good spots for reading and the like.” Celeste smiled as she spoke of how she enjoyed soccer and how skilled Ariana was. It made her proud to see Ari excel at something, especially when it was something she enjoyed. She hoped the carpentry apprenticeship worked out well for her. “I’m sure you two will have a lovely time.” She shrugged calmly at Athena’s well wishes. The little house they’d been staying in wouldn’t be an option anymore. Finding a new place would be nice though. Ulfric’s was kind of cramped and as cordial as he was capable of being, it was fairly plain to see he wasn’t her biggest fan. She focused instead on the last part, “Well, I’ve always wanted to do something that helps people and I’m not at all squeamish.” She thought to her own stitches on her leg that she’d done herself, “Figured I have the personality to provide comfort and medical care, so may as well go for it now that Ariana is out in the working world. You mentioned going into the medical field as well, right?”

“You lived in California?” Athena’s eyes lit up for a moment. “I’d love to go there someday.” It was almost as though with everything Celeste said she felt all the more connected to her - or even if not connected - more intrigued. She’d lived such an interesting life - lived in so many different places, and Athena had only been in one. She knew that it was for an incredibly good reason, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t sometimes wish she could have traveled elsewhere. “You may! I’ll tell her to look out for you. You might need to do some prereqs, but like, I know they always want new students so that’s also something in your favor.” She gave a small shrug to the woman. “Besides, if you’re anything like your sister, you’re likely a quick learner. She told me she was struggling with math classes but then got up to nearly an A in almost no time!” It was genuine, her compliment - she knew that she wasn’t always genuine but she did enjoy talking to Ariana. So she figured that being honest was the best way to go about things in this case. “Exactly. Especially with the beautiful weather, it’s nicer to go here than in a library or coffee shop in order to read. Plus, I know this makes me sound like a giant nerd - not that there’s anything wrong with that - but sometimes I like to get my books for the fall in advance and read those, and doing it on campus seems even nicer.” Her grin matched Celeste’s. “I bet we will, it’s a great camp and she seems so excited.” Celeste didn’t seem to want to remark any more on Athena’s comment about the house - which was fine. She knew that they were still mostly strangers, and just because some people enjoyed talking about home repairs, others were more cautious. She only hoped that there hadn’t been a sort of terrible attack. “I feel much the same way - and yes, all of that makes sense. I am going into the medical field! Hopefully I’ll get into some good med schools come next year. I agree though, I truly just want to do whatever I can to help make the world a better place, and if medicine is one way to do that, then why not?”

“Yes,” Celeste answered with a small grin. It had been a very brief stint before her parents had gotten wind of their location, but she had enjoyed it. The state had a lot to offer in terms of different terrains and national parks. “It’s a beautiful state. I miss it sometimes, but White Crest has a homey feel to it.” The prospect of being a student again still had her nerves on edge, but having a connection could be nice. Make the whole thing easier. “I appreciate that. I’m sure any friend of yours is lovely.” As much was true. Athena seemed like a smart kid with a good head on her shoulders. She was definitely driven and friendly. It was nice to have someone showing her the way around campus. There was a certain excited energy that came with being here and it was nice to get some of it out. She walked alongside the girl and commented, “It has been beautiful as of late. It’s good that you enjoy where and what you study. I imagine it makes the whole keeping up with your coursework so much easier.” At least she had assumed as much. It’d been too many years since she had to study anything herself. A smile grew on her face at the mention of Ariana being excited for the soccer camp. It was nice she had something to look forward to, even in the midst of everything else. They were choosing somewhere to be home permanently which gave them both the freedom to pursue things they were passionate about. “She really is, which I love to see.” They walked through a part of campus that had a fair number of little picnic tables under trees. She could envision herself content under one just studying away. As much had always been something that felt so out of reach, but here she was. She studied the campus around her and listened as Athena spoke. “That’s an admirable goal. You seem to be very motivated, so I have no doubt you’ll reach it. I like the way you think though, helping people. The whole leaving the world a better place than you found it thing. I wish you the best of luck with applying and getting into med schools.”

“White Crest has a homey feel for me too,” Athena grinned. “Then again, it has been my home my whole life, so I suppose to some degree that’s to be expected. Though, if you don’t mind, I might ask you about California sometime.” She shrugged. “Oh, of course! She’s great, and plus, she knows the place well and so she’ll get you all in the know and everything. Which is something that counts, I think. Even if just to let you know all the shortcuts around campus.” Celeste seemed happy, and that made Athena stand up straighter and continue to lead the woman along, giving a small wave as she passed a boy who was in one of her lectures last semester. “It has been, and I am so glad for that. Though I love Maine, winters do get so dreary. Also true, that studying what I love does make everything a lot easier. More appealing, too.” Another nod. “I’m glad, I’m glad I could do this for her - but she really got in all on her own. Knowing me was an added bonus to her application, she’s incredible in her own merit.” She sighed. “Thank you, and same to you. Anyone who wants to further their education is bound to succeed in their own way.” She did believe that, to an extent. Certainly, this was a bit more forced than usual, but she wanted to make a good impression. “I agree. I have always been that way, for as long as I can remember. Just wanting to make the world as good a place as is possible. Thank you!” She looked up. “We’re almost to the admissions building. Not too hard after all, hm?” She winked.

“I didn’t live there too long, but I’d be happy to answer any California questions that I can,” Celeste stated easily with a smile. She did know the state was a popular tourist destination for a good number of reasons. Her initial thought when they had moved there was that it would be far enough away from the Aquilla Estate that her parents wouldn’t venture out there on a whim. She’d been wrong and now they were going to be here soon enough. She focused back on the nursing school things, noting each building they passed. “Thank you, Athena. I look forward to hopefully joining in the program and meeting her. This place is huge, shortcuts would be most helpful.” Potential study partners were also a plus. She’d always enjoyed making friends. Celeste smiled in the direction of the boy Athena waved at, not wanting to appear rude. She’d yet to experience a Maine winter so she wasn’t sure what she was in for. Whether it’d be better or worse than winter in other states. “I suppose I’ll see for myself soon enough,” she thought aloud with a laugh. It couldn’t be any worse than Minnesota. There was a surge of pride that went through her hearing Athena speak so highly of Ariana. Their life hadn’t been easy, but she’d always done her best to steer Ari in the right direction. “Thank you, I know she’s a bright kid. Passionate, too. I’m sure the kids will get that from both of you.” She scanned their surroundings, noting they were by the Financial Aid department. She made a mental note of that. She’d need to visit them shortly after Admissions. Not surprisingly, Athena mentioned they were close. “Oh good, I’ve been trying to keep an eye on landmarks to make it easier for next time. Thank you for taking the time to lead the way. Good deeds definitely help in making the world a better place.”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to be an expert, it’d just be more what it was like living there,” Athena offered an easy smile. “Of course - I hope you get into the program too, and shortcuts are for sure always handy to know.” Though the nursing program and medical school did not always work together so much, if Athena did end up at UMWC’s medical school (her parents might want that, she figured - even though Johns Hopkins or Harvard or Geffen were all higher up, she’d stay here if it was needed) then there was a chance that they’d run into one another, still. “I suppose you will, although hopefully not too soon! We had a time of complete darkness, and that was a bit difficult, but I do not wish for winter in the middle of summer.” This entire conversation was incredibly normal. She was used to it, but there was something about Celeste that felt more natural than some of the other conversations she’d had. Maybe it was that even though she was meeting her for the first time technically, they had already connected a bit online and Athena did already know her sister. The shared interest in the medical field didn’t hurt, nor did the fact that Celeste was certainly not fae. “I’m sure they will,” she said with a quick nod. “You have a good sense of awareness, it’ll serve you well here. The landmarks method is a good way to go about it, it allows you to figure out where places are from any point. Also, don’t even mention it, I’m more than happy to be able to help out and to finally meet you. Good deeds do indeed, and the world certainly needs more of that.”  

“Warmer, sunnier, more hip if that’s still what the kids are saying. Way less mimes,” Celeste answered with a laugh. Of all the things in White Crest, she found she hated the mimes most of all. With a wide smile, she said, “Thank you, Athena. I appreciate it.” The prospect of being able to settle in a place and beginning to build a real life both excited and terrified her. Still, it’d be nice to pursue something she was actually passionate about and never have to ask another person how they wanted their eggs. The mention of the complete darkness made her laugh lightly. “Yes, definitely don’t want winter too soon. I’d like to enjoy the summer weather.” Though she figured she’d opt from going swimming anywhere in White Crest. It seemed almost inevitable something would try to eat her and that wasn’t her idea of summer fun. She looked over the Admissions building, still slightly filled with nerves to get this journey started before turning back to Athena. “Thank you. I agree with you, landmarks and being aware of your surroundings truly help. I think I could actually find this building again. It truly was great meeting you. Once Ariana and I get settled back into our home, you’ll have to come by for dinner and games some night. Enjoy your day, Athena!” With a final wave, she made her way into the Admissions Building feeling more hopeful than she had in a long time.

[benhardyaf]

WHEN IN LONDON | PART ONE | H.O

Summary: Elliott moved to London with her boyfriend and a plan. When she loses one she didn’t realise it would mean losing the other. Maybe Harrison can make her realise that no plan is perfectly fine. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Harassment? (put your hands up if this happens to you every damn weekend!!! no means no gd)

A/N: Hi! So this is the second fic I had planned for Haz but it seems to be a quicker write so it’s coming out sooner than I thought. Please let me know what you think of it, any feedback is welcome. Also if you wanna be tagged in this series just ask??? lol I’ve never done this tag thing and probably no one wants to continue it but oh well. Enjoy!

It had been a week since I’d broken up with Dylan, but almost two months since I realised I didn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t an easy thing to do; we’d been dating since we were 17 years old and we moved to a different country together. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, he loved me, doted on me at times, treated me right. But I couldn’t stop imagining what my life would be like without him in it. I didn’t wait eagerly on the tube home to our flat just to see his face, I didn’t get butterflies in my stomach when he told me he loved me, I didn’t feel the need to accompany him to his work dinner events. We were friends - that was all there was to it. Sure, I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. 

Last Thursday night was difficult. He was surprised, not sure he thought we would ever break up. We were comfortable. I don’t think Dylan had spent a day in his life uncomfortable. He had a wealthy family, lots of connections, a good body and a smile that lit up a room. Most things came very easily to him. He told me I could keep the flat, which was so nice. I was the one who’d broken up with him, shouldn’t I move out?

Of course, keeping the flat was causing me a little bit of stress. When it was the two of us, it was easy to pay the rent of a two bedroom with two full time salaries. Now, I had to fork out that cash on my own, which was going to be difficult. 

That was how I found myself, a week after turning single, walking into a Luau themed bar on a Friday night to meet people I worked with for a few drinks. I’d walked from the Tube station and I already regretted the shoes I was wearing - nothing too flashy, just some leopard print sandals - but the strap was digging into my heels. I flattened my denim skirt as I looked for their table, I was feeling a little nervous to see everyone. Despite knowing Dylan and I weren’t meant to be together, it was a lot easier having him by my side as a comfort. 

After pushing through dozens of people and dodging tables with tiki torches lighting up drunk faces, I spotted a group of people by the far wall. I recognised Chloe and Jesse first. They were my closest friends at work, I shared an office space with them. They waved at me and I walked over to them quickly.

“Elliott, you look cute.” Chloe pinched my arm, smiling up at me. “Sit down and grab a drink.” I smiled my thanks, falling easily into conversation with the group and settling my stomach slightly for the night. 

I giggled along helplessly to something one of the boys had said, throwing my head back in exaggeration. I was a few drinks in and at this level I thought everything was funny. Our group had dwindled in the hour that had passed, leaving me alone with Jesse, Chloe and a few of the other guys. In my overstated snickering, I slightly lost balance and bumped into someone walking behind me. I turned around to apologize but they weren’t looking at me, they were looking at Ryan, who worked on our third floor, and had a very strange look on his face.

“I’m so sorry.” I said, still smiling. “I emote outwardly.” The person I had knocked looked at me now. He had very short hair that looked recently shaved and dark brown eyes. 

“Not a problem, love.” He smiled back. Luckily I hadn’t knocked any of the beers out of his hands. He walked a few more steps and sat down at his own table, which was placed next to ours. He handed out beers to his friends, who began chatting with him. 

I turned back to my group, thinking about the encounter I’d just had. The guy was attractive, that much was obvious. And I had always loved British boys, not that I’d ever had the opportunity to be with one, seeing as I’d been with Dylan the whole time I’d lived in England. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until that moment, but I was now free to sleep with whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was single. It was a freedom I could get used to. 

Another hour passed and more people began to leave until it was just Jesse, Ryan, Chloe and I. We were chatting about nothing in particular. I would zone out of the conversation every now and then, fiddling with the paper straw in my Pimms that had started to get soggy. 

“Elliott.” I was munching on the cucumber soaked in alcohol, not listening to the boys trying to get my attention. “Elliott!” Jesse waved his hand in front of my face. 

“Sorry, zoned out.” 

“Ryan was asking when you broke up with Dylan.” Jesse took a sip of his drink. I told him and Chloe about the break up the day after it happened and they got to hear all the gory details, but I hadn’t really talked about it much to anyone else from work. 

“Oh.” I frowned, looking down again. This sort of conversation could really put a damper on my good mood. “Last week.”

“Why?” Ryan moved closer to me, the sun was setting behind him and I moved to put my sunglasses on to cover my eyes. 

I shrugged my shoulders, wanting the questioning to end. “Sometimes things just end.”

Ryan nodded his head, his hair falling into his eyes. I suppose he was objectively good looking, but I’d never really cared for him. His arrogance was something I could never look past. Chloe talked about him constantly, and how his blue eyes and black hair combo could do things that no other man ever could. I often told her that she should have higher standards if her only prerequisite was black hair and blue eyes. She thought I was crazy.

I stopped listening to the conversation again after that, paying more attention to my drink and feeling a little uncomfortable. Jesse didn’t mean any harm but I couldn’t stop thinking that he could have quelled the subject completely before it even came to me. Chloe seemed to eat up the words that were coming out of Ryans mouth, her eyes never leaving him. 

I came to when I felt a palm slip onto my thigh. I looked at Jesse, who had both his hands on the table, ripping up the label of his beer bottle, then to Ryan, who smirked as he continued telling whatever story he was in. I felt like throwing up.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom. The spot on my thigh where Ryans hand had sat was burning. I knew that technically I could do whatever I wanted, I had no attachments anymore. But everything about Ryan screamed dirty to me. I didn’t like the way he stared at girls, I didn’t like the way he talked about himself and I didn’t like the way he took credit for other people's work. I threw some water on my face and tried to cool down. The warm summer air seemed to triple in heat and I was feeling very flushed. I spent a few minutes using the water to calm the redness in my cheeks and went back to the table, deliberately choosing to sit on the other side of the table next to Chloe. 

“You look a little stressed. Are you okay?” Chloe asked me quietly, taking the last gulp of her drink and placing the empty glass on the table. I nodded at her, not confident my voice would come out properly. Chloe shrugged and went back to the conversation the boys were having.

Eventually she decided she needed another drink and got up to get the group a round. 

As soon as she left, I felt worried again. I felt the stares of the boys on me as they expected me to join in, but I couldn’t make myself focus on the discussion. The night was ruined. I told the boys that I was tired and was going to go home and was met with protestations. 

“Just stay a bit longer.” Jesse whined, pouting his bottom lip. 

I laughed half-heartedly, shaking my head at him. “It’s been a really long week. I need a good sleep.” 

Jesse nodded. Ryan looked at me, I couldn’t really read his expression. 

“I thought we were having fun.” It wasn’t a question, he was telling me.

“Oh, yeah.” I gulped. “It’s been great.” I nodded, trying to convince myself. 

“Then don’t go.” He said, rather firmly. I had made it to the other side of the table, heading towards the door. I started to shake my head when he grabbed my hand. “You should stay.” I didn’t know what to say to him. I was trying to pull my hand out of his grasp but he had quite a tight grip on it. “Stay here.” When I looked at his face, his eyebrows were pulled into each other. He seemed angry. I tried to object but he stood up, his frame towering over me. 

I hadn’t considered him an intimidating man before. Sure, he was conceited and arrogant and rude but he had never seemed harmful. Then, though, I wasn’t sure what sort of man he really was. 

Words died on my tongue as he took a step towards me. My heart was beating a little faster. I looked at Jesse, who was confused. He didn’t do anything though. 

“I really need to get home.” I found my voice, faking a smile and hoping I sounded sincere. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” I took a step backwards, hoping he’d let go of my hand. Ryan was about to say something when a voice cut in.

“Hey, mate.” I looked to the owner. It came from the table next to us, with the guy that I’d bumped earlier. The person speaking was sitting across from him, frown plastered on his face and eyes so blue they seemed to glow. The dying sun was on his right, leaving his skin glowing golden. “Leave her alone.”

I looked at the rest of the table, each face was turned towards me. There was a litter of different expressions, one of disgust, one of anger, another of judgement. I didn’t know what my face looked like, but I hoped it wasn’t betraying my panic. 

The nice brunette guy from earlier spoke up. “Not sure you can take the hint so we’ll spell it out for you: she’s not interested.” Hums of agreement followed his statement. Ryan didn’t release his grip on my hand though. 

“What the hell does this have to do with you?” Ryans teeth were gritted. 

There were a few chuckles from the table. “God.” The boy with blue eyes ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. He looked annoyed. “Nothing really.” He rolled his eyes.

“But it can involve us if you want it to.” One of the boys next to him chimed in. It wasn’t really a threat. The brunette who had said it was even smiling. His tone wasn’t menacing and he didn’t look like he wanted to even get up from his seat. But the implication was there - we will not tolerate this. 

Ryan looked across the table, noticing that he was completely outnumbered. Finally, he released my hand. I looked down and could see a red ring around my wrist where his fingers were. I then looked to Jesse, who had a look of shock on his face. 

I couldn’t find any words so I just looked at all the boys around me, unsure of what to do next. Ryan had had enough and stormed off to leave, throwing his shoulder into mine on the way. I winced slightly but didn’t react otherwise. 

Chloe arrived at that moment with three drinks in her hand. “What did I miss?” She looked around at all the tense faces. “Where’d Ryan go?” She placed the drinks down and walked up to me. Still no one had spoken. “What’s happening?” She half whispered, seeing that Jesse wasn’t going to say a thing she hoped I would. I shook my head at her, unsure of what to say.

“You know what, I’ve never liked Ryans.” The brown-eyed boy from the table next to us announced. The others laughed. I looked at them all, smiling slightly myself. 

Chloe just looked even more confused. I shook my head, trying to get a hold of myself. “Ryan, um.” How do I put this lightly? “He left.” Explaining nothing seemed easiest.

“Oh, okay.” She still looked confused, but didn’t push the subject. 

I didn’t know what to do so I just sat down again, hoping Chloe would sit as well and we could forget about everything. Thankfully, she did. But as soon as we were about to continue our night, Jesse stood up. “I need to go.” 

I hurt me a little that he didn’t want to sit with me. I didn’t know what to say to him. Had I offended him? Was he angry at me for making a scene? I felt so guilty, but also embarrassed that so many people had witnessed everything. 

I briefly looked to my left, the group of boys was talking again as if nothing had happened. They chatted and laughed and sipped on their drinks, having a great time. As I was about to look away, my eyes met one of theirs. His lips curled up in a smile and he nodded his head at me, his blonde hair shining in the sun. He raised his drink in a cheers fashion. I reached forward and grabbed my own, slightly lifting it and smiling back at him.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

Steve’s Ending: What the Fuck Just Happened?

                            ************WARNING*********** 

BIG-ASS ESSAY WITH SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME AHOY

I have been largely out of the fandom sphere for a spell because of personal stuff that went down and then subsequent Endgame anxiety (I’m sorry, I really will get to some BW asks as soon as I’m done reeling from this film), but I wanted to get out some thoughts about Endgame while they are fresh in my mind. I have seen Endgame twice since its release. I saw it Friday morning, debriefed with my beta @pitchforkcentral86, and then turned around and bought tickets for an evening showing the same day. Why? Because I had to process Steve’s last scene. I had to see it twice just to comprehend what the hell happened and then try to interpret it. I went through several hypotheses and waves of accompanying emotion and then came to a tentative personal conclusion about what the hell Steve’s ending is to me.  But first I had to ask— Is this a true happy ending? Is this lazy writing? Is this a character assassination? Is this a legitimate choice Steve would make? Some combination of the above? So, here go my hypotheses—

Hypothesis 1: This is a legitimate happy ending for Steve and his timeline.

If you only look at the images shown to us and don’t devote much thought to the implications of Steve’s choice for other people in the world, it might appear to be a beautiful ending. After a decade-and-a-half of compass-gazing and pining for the good old days of segregation and boiled food, Steve gets what he wants. He gets the person who is — surprise! — “the love of his life.” This plays into the ongoing narrative that Steve has never been able to find contentment in the modern world or with modern people (some of whom he refers to as “family,” interestingly enough). This hypothesis also assumes that he can only be happy if he is with one woman, because he assumes shared life experience is a prerequisite for partnership, which means that he has essentially preemptively foreclosed on any relationship with anyone who is not Peggy.  Since Bucky’s name has barely even entered Steve’s consciousness lately, except to emotionally whump his past self into not choking him to death, even their friendship seems to be a question in the last two films in this series.

So if we take the arc of these films into consideration, including the last two films, he has apparently resigned himself to a position of “Peggy is my only viable romantic relationship, and she is dead, and I am incomplete as long as this is true.” When you write this thesis for Steve Rogers, which is a sad thesis indeed, this ending might seem like a relief for him. (It could also be argued that it is terribly lacking in resiliency and flexibility and is naive, at best, in terms of what is love versus infatuation versus idealization.) Problematic in this happy ending scenario: The writers clearly did not consider the second and third order effects of this decision. They just needed to tie up Steve’s timeline and get Chris Evans out of the franchise, and this was a way to do it that resonates at face value. Man out of time gets put back in his time. Gets love. Quote: “It was beautiful.” Ignore all of the following and more: -There will now be two Steve Rogers in this timeline. -One of them will presumably be with Peggy Carter for at least a good chunk of time, unless things went south. -Peggy Carter is the director of SHIELD. Her close associates are undoubtedly known to them as a result. -Thus, Steve Rogers probably could not just stay hidden in the pantry. SHIELD would want to debrief him. They would want to know how the hell he got there. Questions would get asked. This could not remain a secret forever. -Is Steve Rogers going to sit out history? Hang on the couch while the world burns, shield unused? -Is Steve Rogers, knowing that Bucky is alive, going to leave him to rot with Hydra? -Even if they made some sort of arrangement beforehand, like Bucky saying it’s okay, don’t come get me, would they both sit well with continuing to let him kill all of the innocents he killed? -If Steve did go get Bucky, he would likely find him some time in the span of however many years he’s in the past. The future would be completely changed. -If he intervened and found Bucky, Sam Wilson would not be Falcon because TWS would not happen. This version of Bucky would not exist. This end scene could not happen. -Thus, this does not seem to be something that Steve chose to do during his life with Peggy. (Debunked-ish, along with other “Back to the Future” science hereafter, below) Which brings me to my second hypothesis about this ending. Hypothesis 2: This was thought out, but it represents writers Markus and McFeely’s disconnect from the character they built. This is where the “there is no way in hell Steve would sit on the couch where the world burns, where Bucky suffers with Hydra etc.” argument comes in. This taints the ending in a particularly sour way, because they have labored so hard to build an image of Steve as someone who would wreck the world to save Bucky Barnes from harm and stop at nothing to prevent serious harm in the world where he could. It’s what he wanted in the first place! It’s where we all started in TFA! The Steve we know and love would want to go to Korea. To Vietnam. He would want to stop the Khmer Rouge and all the bad shit he could intervene with. Right? And his ass would try to save Bucky, especially knowing exactly where he’s kept! Right?? He would keep going and going until he was worn down into a nub of nothingness. Right??? Which meanders me to— Hypothesis 3: This was a decision that Steve Rogers made that is plausible for his character and was deliberate on the part of the writers. Second and third order effects included. This may be a stretch, but I think it could be argued on the grounds of good becomes great, bad becomes worse. Steve does nothing by half measures, an intrinsic trait that is amplified by his transformation. I have always argued that Steve has a very real selfish streak, or else he never would have tried to enlist in the Army so many times knowing he is absolutely unqualified to serve. Serving in his original condition would have put so many lives at risk, and others would have had to pick up his slack, because he would have been next to physically useless in combat as small Steve. But he would not accept reality, and he would not accept a “lesser” form of helping because it had to be the way that served his ego and his sense of rightness and justness for himself, consequences to other soldiers and the mission be damned. It was myopic and self-serving. And if good becomes great and bad becomes worse, maybe this is a form of that. Maybe he and Bucky agreed (because they were clearly in cahoots with that final scene business) that he would not intervene and rescue him, because then there would be no Falcon, or simply on the principle that the timeline must remain as undisturbed as possible. And maybe this one time, Steve didn’t say “fuck you, Bucky” and do what was right. Maybe Steve Rogers was done. Fucking done. Maybe he realized that what he first wanted at the beginning of TFA is not tenable. That he can’t fight forever. That he, like Tony, needs to rest, and that he can’t do that in the modern world. Which is interesting, because he essentially becomes Tony Stark v1.0 in the end, only caring about himself and his own. And Tony Stark becomes Steve Rogers, making the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. So Steve enjoys a life with Peggy while the world burns because he just can’t do it anymore. He’s paid his dues and he’s done being Captain America or Nomad or anyone else. (Wonder how she likes that version of Steve...?) Though how he could possibly say “It was beautiful” is utterly beyond me. I can’t fit that into this hypothesis, unless he has compartmentalized so hard and so well that he has forgotten about Bucky’s existence completely. And if he has, this is a very sad ending for his character.

There are probably many other hypotheses out there. They just didn’t percolate through my mind yet.

Which brings me to some things @pitchforkcentral86 brought up:

Why was Tony Stark’s arc so perfectly completed, so beautifully closed — truly, even I shed a tear — when we have to sit here writing stupid billion word theses on a nearly defunct blog site, grasping for straws, scratching our heads, wondering what the fuck just happened to Steve Rogers? It’s like getting to know somebody for eight years, being told the same stories about their behavior, learning their values system, their truths… and then being thrown a parting image that can only make sense if  a) the writers cannot be trusted — and maybe could not be trusted this whole time, or b) the character is actually not the person we thought he was.

Is either of these what we want to be left with as we close this phase of the MCU? Either the writers failed or Steve Rogers is not the person we love? And do we really not get to see Bucky and Steve’s friendship arc get closed in a meaningful way after building its depth for three movies? Are we really supposed to count a cheap recycling of a TFA line and some shimmery-eyed SebStan woobieface (TM) and some secret time travel hook-up conspiring off-camera (AS THEIR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP HAS BEEN SINCE CIVIL WAR, PRESUMABLY, OFF-FUCKING-CAMERA) as “closure”? So, what do I think? I think this was lazy, crap writing, and I think Markus and McFeely thought we wouldn’t consider the timey-wimey implications too much. I think they know this character, and I don’t think they figured this would assassinate his character. I think they just really, really needed to tie this story up in a superficially pretty bow, and they couldn’t kill off both Tony and Steve, so they needed to give him something that took him out of the franchise. And that scene at the end with Peggy was aesthetically BEAUTIFUL. I smiled the first time, ear to ear, until my brain kicked in two minutes later and realized what it meant. They have been building up to this forever, kindling Steggy pretty much every movie. We Stucky people are all like yeah, yeah, Peggy, so sad, but the films have been consistent all along about saying a) Steve is a man out of time, and b) he loves Peggy Carter. (However you wanted to interpret that love... until the support group, where the interpretation is made for us). Support group side note: First, I squeed that Steve was running a support group in what I’m pretty sure is a VA auditorium. And on one hand, I loved the super chill gay Russo cameo and Steve’s untroubled reaction. Three cheers for the first openly gay character in the MCU [eyeroll]. But also, it felt like a total concession, like okay all you Stucky idiots we’ve been queer baiting over the years, we are gonna drop an A-bomb your little kingdom, but look, at least Steve isn’t a homophobe! See? He’s cool with the gays and so are we. Thanks for playing. Maybe you’ll get a REAL queer character in the next phase of the MCU! (If you even stick around after the shit we’ve just pulled.) But this laziness is problematic, because it feels terrible and discrepant. Intended or not, it does have serious implications for the timeline and/or the character, and the final scene existing the way it is potentially means at least one of two things: 1. Time doesn’t work the way we think it does. (In other words, what if there is a world where time travel Steve did all these good things like free Bucky, end the Vietnam War early, etc.?) However, since he is here on this bench with Bucky and Sam, dropping off this shield, this is implausible. If he just disappeared for good and Bucky explained the situation with a tiny, knowing smile, then it would be possible that he started an alternate reality where he did all these very Steve-congruent things and freed Bucky in that timeline, which would not affect this one. Wouldn’t that be nice? I could live with that. Just disappear into the sunset and we can write fics to fill in all the gaps of his Steve-ness. His core character is retained. Hooray. 

But if he started an alternate timeline, he would not be here with Bucky and Sam like this in the original timeline as an old man, which suggests that he jumped back in the same timeline. Unless they invented technology to jump between timelines. Or Dr. Strange jumped him back to this bench just to drop the shield off and high five with Sam and then is going to take him back any second or some dumb shit that has no basis in anything we have seen on screen (see @pitchforkcentral86’s point above about grasping for bullshit just to make sense of this). Or it means that— 2. Steve did not do anything and did not give a fuck about it. Both of these are terrible. Terrible. I would rather have had Steve die than have this ending. And this has nothing to do with Stucky for me, because Stucky is mostly just a fun fandom thing for me. I don’t mind that he ended up with Peggy per se. It’s the implication that he didn’t save his friend, knowing EXACTLY — geographically and historically — where he was, not only saving Bucky but also all the innocent people Bucky would kill. OR I hate the implication that the smug motherfucker let Bucky rot — perhaps per their agreement, maybe he kept a promise, whatever — and he had the gall to call it “beautiful.” And this is after Markus and McFeely slaved for three movies to convince us that these are best fucking friends from childhood who are with each other “‘til the end of the line.” At the very least, even if they are not going to be physically together, friends do not let friends suffer for decades at the hands of Hydra, and if they do, they do not fucking enjoy themselves while it’s happening. If this is the Steve they are leaving us with, I do not want him. And I kind of don’t know what to do now.

Am I missing something? Please tell me I am. I’m desperate for a way to make sense of this. Truly.

OKAY, EDIT: 

@koubashii  very kindly sent me a message reminding me that Bruce spent quite a bit of time belaboring on the point that changing the past doesn’t change the future. She reminded me that Nebula killing her past self didn’t obliterate her from existence. I did forget about all this. So I can’t use Sam and Bucky Prime’s existence in their current form as evidence that Steve did nothing, if he went back in time. Point taken. THANK YOU!! 

(Edit: As far as I can gather from some research from actual astrophysicists and not MCU Bruce Banner, this “changing the past doesn’t change the future” stuff is just one small theory and does not appear to be the prevailing theory. However, this is the quantum realm, so we can make up all sorts of silly rules about infinite possibilities, infinite realities, yada yada, because nobody understands quantum physics except Hank Pym. Comic book science wins again!)

So, if he’s creating a separate timeline, let’s say he rescued Bucky early. Is there another Bucky running around with him? (New fun theory to make the pain better: He danced with Peggy, had a good time, went to find Bucky, married HIM, and that’s why he doesn’t want to talk about it with Sam. THERE. Fixed it.) 

But this still suggests that he broke off into an alternate timeline, one that did not disturb the current one. So if he went off into this entirely new timeline, how did he bounce into this old one? Pym particles? Sure. Fine. Comic science Whatever. Maybe he gets some. Did he just drop in by the lake and pop a squat on the bench right before Bucky told Sam to look? Sure. Was he there the whole time? Perhaps. Fine. Who the hell knows. 

So, one possible explanation is that there IS an alternate timeline where Steve did the right thing. And he jumped back here because Pym particles. His character’s integrity is potentially saved and who the fuck knows who he ended up with in the end. Let your imaginations run wild. It’s too late for Bucky Prime to get saved, poor Bucky. At least he has Sam and their upcoming Disney spinoff series, which sounds like a fucking joke when I write it (but srsly I’m dying and cannot wait). 

And there are still problematic things with this narrative for me, such as the idea that Steve’s entire happiness hinges on one woman he barely knew, largely because she didn’t scoff at him when he was smol and I will be DAMNED if Peggy kept his picture on her desk, and there is no effing way that she would even have her back to the door, but whatever. And I still hate that Steve and Bucky’s relationship arc was treated so horribly by these last two films. NO HOMO, indeed. Just in case we got the wrong idea from the intensity of the relationship that the MCU created for us. I will be posting more on this later. 

AND STILL — we should not have to work SO HARD for this kind of "meh” explanation. You should not need a group effort to make sense of your character’s ending, after so much wallowing in despair. And this might still reek of bullshit to many of you. I need to percolate more. 

Pym particles and Wakandan Vibranium trauma-healing brain magic — quick and dirty shortcuts for real character development. Thanks, MCU. Consider my brain exploded.

[overwatch-does-stuff]

Ashe Headcanons!

Because I haven’t seen a lot of content for her, and I do like her a lot! Generic headcanons: - Ashe is actually not chaotic neutral! Just because she doesn’t play by society’s rules doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own rules. She runs a tight ship in the Deadlock gang- keeping raids precise and only as deadly as they need to be. - The one thing guaranteed to get you kicked out of the Deadlock gang is being a bully. Ashe doesn’t like bullies. A little bit of fighting between members is expected, but continual harassment of others is a one-way trip to getting your ass dumped in the middle of the desert. - The only real prerequisites for joining the Deadlock gang is to 1. be a good shot, and 2. have no other loyalties. What does that second one mean? Well, Ashe doesn’t want anyone who has a family. Significant others are okay (even better if they join as well), but a family is too much. The gang line of work is too dangerous for someone with a family they care about. Deadlock is supposed to be a family for those who don’t have one, not a job offering for those that already do. - Omnic rights. That is the hill that she’ll die on. She respects Omnics so much, perhaps even a bit more than she respects humans. If someone even looks at Bob or any other Omnic members of her crew the wrong way, she won’t hesitate to rough them up. - Ashe likes to look nice! She spends at least thirty minutes on her makeup each day, and she personally designed her own uniform. She loves talking unironically about fashion and beauty. She’s not ashamed of her femininity. - She also enjoys talking about target shooting and how best to raid, say, an armored car. She’s well-rounded! - She doesn’t like tea at all. Coffee, any type of coffee, is her jam. She has an espresso machine back at the Deadlock base. - She knows everyone in the Deadlock gang on a first-name basis. She’s not above chatting with any one of them. They are her family, after all. She treats them very well. - Free beer Tuesdays are absolutely a thing in the Deadlock base. Loud, drunken singing is encouraged. What’s the fun of being in a gang if you don’t get to party? The only rules are no fighting, and you have to be able to walk yourself to your room afterwards. 

Backstory headcanons: - Ashe’s parents emotionally neglected her when she was little, and emotionally abused her when she was older. They were very manipulative people who would take nothing less than absolute perfection from their daughter (when they conveniently remembered they had one.) - It’s the reason Ashe tries to be so self-sufficient and in control. She has a very difficult time not blowing up at anyone else who fails or does something wrong, but she’s working on getting better about it. She also has trouble talking about her feelings and what she enjoys. - Bob was her saving grace. Bob was supposed to only be a distant caretaker while her parents were away, but he defied the orders given to him and started to interact with her. He essentially became her parent, and while he wasn’t perfect, he saved her from a lot of darker alternatives. - Then, there’s McCree. Her first love (though that fling didn’t last long) and her closest friend. He found her in an alley after she sneaked out of her house. He was the first person not to treat her like a rich girl, and she was the first person to not treat him like a street rat. They bonded over their terrible parents and their shared want for something more in their lives.

S/O headcanons: - Ashe is. . . let’s just say she’s the dominant type. - She’s the big spoon. No protesting. - She loves being showy with her relationships and she will absolutely let everyone know that you’re hers. She loves public displays of affection. - She’ll also call you by pet names. “Sugar”, “Honey”, and “Sweetheart” are her go-tos, but she also likes to get creative sometimes. - She would love to do your hair and makeup (regardless of your gender!). If you stay with her long enough, she’ll design you an entire look. - She’ll also let you order around Bob if you prove to be especially trustworthy. - Her idea of a perfect date is actually away from any sort of expensive dinner, or any high-end civilization. If she really loves you, she’ll take you to her favorite place in the desert with no one else for company. It’s during these times that she’ll open up and be genuine about herself.

[kirinda-ondo]

So I have some thoughts and feelings about Vishnal Rune Factory

I am aware that approximately two other people besides me care about this, but literally when has it ever stopped me from rambling at length

So basically, I love Vishnal from Rune Factory 4. Like, a lot. I never commit to anyone in farm sims but boy howdy, he managed to hit literally all the criteria I have to be considered a Favorite Character™. He did it so well, in fact, he’s earned a spot alongside characters like Cobalt or Lydia. But like those characters, while there are people who like him, I feel as though he doesn’t get enough credit. The complaints I’ve seen tend to be that he’s boring and that he has the worst proposal event. Hell, one of the first few results from googling him is a thread asking if he’s supposed to be a joke character. While I can see where this sentiment might come from, I’d like to explain the appeal in a lot of the things people find fault in him for (at least for me), and maybe offer a bit of a different perspective, I guess.

If I had to guess where a lot of these problems that people have with him come from, it’s probably the fact that he doesn’t have a lot of lore behind him. To be honest, Vishnal doesn’t really have a whole lot of plot significance. He doesn’t have any direct connection to the capitol of Norad like Arthur or Kiel (via his sister Forte), he’s got nothing to do with the Sechs empire like Doug, and he’s not a guardian like Dylas and Leon. Vishnal, despite working in a castle and serving Ventuswill (who we shall henceforth refer to as Venti), a literal dragon god, is an everyman by comparison. He’s just a guy trying to do his job the best he can.

Similarly, he also doesn’t have a whole lot of mystery or drama behind him either. With pretty much every other bachelor, there’s usually some kind of dark secret from their past that comes up and has to be dealt with, either through the main plot or through their proposal events. To just give you an idea of the kind of things we’re dealing with here, let’s do a rundown.

Doug’s entire tribe was killed by Sechs soldiers, but the empire fed him propaganda to make him believe that Venti was responsible so that he would work undercover for them in order to kill her and take the Rune Spheres.

Arthur was an illegitimate child of Norad’s king and believes that his mother hated him so much she had to take off her glasses so that she didn’t have to look at him, causing him to have severe trust issues (as well as a glasses fetish? Have fun with that, Freud).

Kiel (and by extension, his sister) is trapped in a well-meaning, but incredibly fucked up family dynamic that forced him to be incredibly sheltered while Forte took on the duties of a knight in a heavily male dominated society to protect him. However, since both of their parents are dead, they have no idea that they’re allowed to free themselves and become their own people.

Dylas sacrificed himself to become a guardian, fusing with a monster in order to act as a living life support to help keep Venti alive, but when he’s finally free, he’s hundreds of years into the future, where everything he knows is gone. It’s also implied that before he became a guardian, he was suicidal.

Leon, like Dylas, also sacrificed himself to become a guardian and was flung far into the future. However, he also has the added guilt of believing he left his childhood friend to live the rest of her life emotionally stunted because when he was younger, he made a promise to marry her if she stopped crying so much, but didn’t take it seriously as she did, and couldn’t have kept it even if he did.

Meanwhile, Vishnal has had an utterly average life. In order to help people, he wanted to become a doctor like his father, but felt he wasn’t smart enough, so when he met a butler named Sebastian, he was so impressed he decided to become a butler himself. Though he was worried his father wouldn’t approve of this way of helping people, he was ultimately supportive, helping him train and, through a friend’s connections, getting him to Selphia to work under Volkanon.

Vishnal is basically Clark from Connecticut in terms of how average he is by comparison. However, I wouldn’t say this is a bad thing. Even dealing with one of these traumatic backstories is a lot, let alone trying to harem them all (and don’t even get me started on the main plot’s drama). A lot of the resolutions to these character arcs are followed up by a proposal, and maybe it’s just my age and personal experiences (or the fact that I’m aroace), but when that happens, I don’t get the feeling of “YES, TAKE ME NOW!” I just think “…You literally just found out the thing that’s been screwing you up your entire life was a giant misunderstanding. I get that you’re happy but like, maybe take some time to sort yourself out? See a therapist maybe???”

But Vishnal, for all of his faults (of which there are many and I will get to that later), generally has his shit together. I respect that and find it a breath of fresh air compared to the cavalcade of angst in everyone else’s lives. Not to say that he doesn’t have any problems at all, because then that would be boring, but they tend to be more focused in the present, and are a bit more grounded in reality and less… spectacular. But like I said, we’ll get to that.

What he lacks in terms of dramatic backstory, he makes up for in personality. He’s very… intense, to put it mildly. While not completely hyper, he’s very high energy and it doesn’t take much to get him psyched up. He’s the type of person to put at least 110% effort in everything he does, and nearly everything he does goes towards his goal of becoming the world’s best butler. Unfortunately, as a result, he’s considered one-note. Now, I’m not going to sit here and say he doesn’t talk about butler things all the time, because he absolutely does, but for me, as someone who also tends to get super into things and talk about them endlessly (hence this entire ramble), I find him pretty endearing, if not a tad relatable in that regard. However, for all his single-mindedness, he is still a decently multifaceted character.

Probably the most important thing to note here is that he is a very good person, like “too good for this sinful earth” kind of good. He has a natural drive to help others and doesn’t have a mean word to say about anyone (though even he engages in the ultimate Selphian pastime of Teasing Doug™ on occasion). He’s also honest to a fault. It’s incredibly easy to tell if he’s trying to cover something up because he’s usually pretty much an open book and wears his heart on his sleeve. He seems to expect others to be the same way, as he has a bad habit of taking what people say at face value even if they’ve repeatedly shown not to be trustworthy. This often leads him to be the butt of many a joke or the victim of scams. Other times, lighthearted teasing falls flat as he takes it seriously and winds up getting his feelings hurt. But ever the optimist, he doesn’t let setbacks get him down for long.

He very much believes in the power of hard work overcoming any obstacle, and it seems in his mind, literally anything is possible if you train hard enough, and he’s constantly trying to prepare himself to master every possible scenario, from protecting important secrets by staying silent to becoming invincible to the common cold by constantly being soaked with water. It generally winds up doing him more harm than good, and even Doug worries about him a little bit because Vishnal will do pretty much anything if you tell him it’s special training (though this does not even remotely stop Doug from having a field day with it). Were this not a very “anime” kind of game, it would honestly be amazing if he hadn’t died from any of his training attempts.

Though it may come across as though he has no idea what is actually possible for a human to achieve, he actually seems to have quite a few hangups about his own limitations. He has a massive perfectionist complex and is incredibly hard on himself. He tends to beat himself up quite a bit when he makes mistakes (I mean the man looks utterly devastated every time he screws up lunch) and outright warns the player (who we shall henceforth refer to as Frey) that he may cause her trouble. However, he’s not quite as terrible as he might imply. While he is gullible and very much a klutz, he’s got a wide variety of skills and knowledge he rarely gives himself credit for. For instance, he’s not exactly street smart by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s well-read to a degree that he can actually read things from Arthur’s library (which says a lot because Arthur is a colossal nerd), and he’s knowledgeable on a number of subjects from farming to geography. On the lake date (when it’s not summer), you have the option to ask him more about the kind of training he would do, and he rattles off a list of insane skills (I.e. making tea so good as to become its own singularity…singularitea, if you will) like it’s no big deal. Mind you, given what someone like Volkanon is capable of, that may just be par for the course as far as butlers go in this universe, but for your average person, that’s honestly impressive, if not a bit terrifying.

His confidence (or lack thereof), however, tends to reflect in the quality of his work. In a small example, every so often, he offers Frey his attempt at curry rice. It’s hot garbage, but if she tells him it’s good, he admits he wasn’t very confident in it. However, we see in his prerequisite event (which is a much more overt example) that when he’s more confident in himself, he’s not only able to make actual food, but is downright hypercompetent in his job. For context, he is conned into buying an overpriced statue that, according to blacksmith and Professional Vishnal Scammer™ Bado, will allegedly make him an expert overnight. Wholly believing in this thing, he’s suddenly amazing… until he accidentally knocks it over and breaks it. Utterly devastated and unconvinced that his improved performance came from within, he’s suddenly infinitely worse than he was when he started. Things of course balance themselves out, but we come away realizing that if he had as much self-confidence as he did pure determination, he could easily reach a point where he’d be absolutely unstoppable.

We also see this lack of confidence manifest itself in regards to Frey. If she pursues a relationship, we get quite a bit of evidence that he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her. Before he formally asks her out, he lists all the things he does wrong; all the ways he’s a novice, essentially warning her of what she may have to deal with. However, if Frey’s conquered the RNG and made it this far, then it’s safe to say that she’s prepared to take the risk. On the airship date, he outright says once he becomes an expert, he’ll finally be the perfect man for her. Even during his own damn proposal event, he tells her he’s unreliable. This is incredibly far from the case, as even if he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s doing everything he can to make this work. He works himself even harder to maximize his time with her, he buys (phony) charms from Bado to keep them together, he asks other bachelors for advice (as poor is it may be at times), he literally asks the entire town for date spot reviews, as well as just straight up reading up on how to be the best possible boyfriend.

Eventually, should the RNG gods be smiling, this brings us to the proposal event. Now, one might imagine that this event might follow the thread we’ve been building up here into him learning maybe not to beat himself up so much or becoming a little more self-confident, but no. While this sort of thing happens for a number of other bachelors/bachelorettes, where their prerequisite events foreshadow what’s to come in their proposal events, that isn’t quite the case here. While that development does occur to a degree, it’s a bit more subtle and is not really the focus of this event.

His proposal event instead mainly forces him to consider his priorities. So for some context, a butler judge has come, and if Vishnal does well, he may finally earn his first star and be one step closer to being the ultimate butler. In fact, his abilities are already recognized as worthy of the title, but there’s just once teensy little problem. You see, in butlerdom, your master and your partner being one in the same is a bit of a taboo. Dating your boss creates a whole host of problems, after all; not just for you, but your reputation. And so this is where the conundrum comes in. We already know he’s incredibly dedicated to this career choice to the point that if he doesn’t succeed, he will literally die trying, but he’s now just as dedicated to Frey. Being that this is a proposal event though, you pretty much already know how this is going to end, but just hear me out.

This is currently the biggest decision he’s ever made in his life, and is essentially the emotional equivalent of having to choose between losing your right hand or your left. He obviously doesn’t want to throw away years of hard work, but he’s also not the type to just leave someone behind in pursuit of his own interests. Frey ultimately saves him from waffling back and forth about it forever by breaking things off so he can pursue his dreams, but literally no one is happy with this. Even the judge feels bad and he’s the one who started it. But with this little problem out of the way, Vishnal is free to accept his new rank. Except he doesn’t. After a dramatic, heartfelt speech pointing out that this actually puts him in a better position to serve Frey, and how reputations shouldn’t matter more than protecting the person you’re entrusted to, he whisks her away and proposes. Before she can properly answer though, he’s called back to the castle. In the end, the judge is moved by his dedication, and so Vishnal can now have his cake and eat it too. Short, sweet, and to the point.

It’s probably about half the length of the other bachelors’ events, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad. It’s actually a pretty nice contrast between the other proposals. Leon, Arthur, and Kiel have the common thread of having to sort out baggage from their past before they decide to marry. Doug and Dylas, while their events are more lighthearted, are a bit more focused on a lack of communication and resulting misunderstandings that come from trying to surprise Frey with a ring. However, because Vishnal’s life isn’t a veritable conga line of angst and trauma, his obstacle to marriage is entirely in the present, and because he’s so open about his feelings, he and Frey actually have a chance to sit down and discuss where to go from here, so there’s no communication issues. Plus, his situation, while a bit dramatically handled because anime, is actually kind of relatable. Having to choose between a career and a relationship is a situation that happens to a pretty good number of people, and it’s rarely an easy decision. It’s a logical conflict for such a work focused character.

While it doesn’t really overtly follow up on the initial thread that seemed to have been laid out of him learning to be more confident in himself, the transition is definitely there, at least in regards to Frey. It’s just not quite as spelled out in events. Even in his proposal, he’s still self-deprecating, but it’s a far cry from the absolute list of faults he gave initially asking her out. Not to mention, it absolutely takes a whole lot of courage to one, choose love over your life’s dream, and two, to do it in the incredibly dramatic and utterly obliterating manner that he did. The relationship also changes some post-marriage. Post-marriage Vishnal is a much different beast than pre-marriage Vishnal. As we’ve discussed, in the dating phase, he’s a lot less sure of how boyfriend things work, and resorts to asking others for advice and outright studying. Now that he’s married, he’s less reliant on others and is much more forward. He actually tends to be the one to initiate romantic gestures, from goodnight kisses to using his own sappy lines as opposed to borrowing them from Leon, among other things. Truly a far cry from the days where he would agonize over whether or not to even hold Frey’s hand. Sadly, while date dialogue doesn’t really change (with the exception of the room date, where he literally states he’s past being shy and awkward), there’s definitely a more visible shift in the focus of his other dialogue from being even good enough for Frey to being more protective. Jury’s still out on how much this development has affected his work performance, as there’s no real new mentions of it after the fact (though after marriage he is finally capable of making edible curry rice…sometimes!), but at least some degree of his self-esteem is improving.

So basically, to summarize, Vishnal isn’t a bad character. He’s just handled differently than the other bachelors. He’s a bit more grounded in reality as far as his backstory and conflicts are concerned. His development also tends to happen outside of his events rather than being the feature, making it a bit more subtle, and thus a bit harder to spot from a glance, but it’s there. For as much fun as he is as a character, I admit he’s definitely very tame compared to the other bachelor options, even despite the localizers’ attempts to make him spicier, so he’s not for everyone. I can see why others might prefer someone a little more exciting or mysterious, like Leon (who seems to be like, god tier as far as RF4 bachelors go), but I hope I’ve at least adequately explained why Vishnal might be appealing to some and has more merit than just a joke character. After all, vanilla is a flavor too, and plenty of people like that.

Anyhoo, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[longsightmyth]

Myth (re)reads A Court of Thorns and Roses while she counts fragments, em-dashes, and ellipses

• page 0 0.0% "Y'all can we talk about that tagline for a second though. "She stole a life. Now she must pay with her heart."

Really."

• page 6 1.34% "Aside from contradictions, re: gods being forgotten but still prayed to, it still really seems like Feyre thinks it's a wolf. She considers that he might be a faerie, but she kills him because he's going for the deer and she can't risk him eating the deer that she needs. Feyre doesn't fulfill the prophecy at all."

• page 8 1.79% ""His remaining yellow eye now stared at the snow-heavy sky, and for a moment, I wished I had it in me to feel remorse for the dead thing. But this was the forest, and it was winter."

I actually liked this. It's a good example of when fragments can be effective."

• page 64 14.29% ""Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already." Look, I've read the book so I know the asspull reason why you haven't been, but given that reason you'd think Tamlin would be exerting himself a little more to be likeable even from the beginning."

• page 68 15.18% ""Another useless answer." No, it's really not. She just told you that literally the entire court is dangerous to you. You didn't know that before, as evidenced by the fact you asked which ones were. It's not useless information that they hate you."

• page 74 16.52% "Somehow I'd forgotten in all of this that not only is Tamlin's beast curse just to wear a mask, but that the mask doesn't even cover his entire face. WHO COULD EVER BE ATTRACTED TO A MAN IN A DOMINO MASK WITH A MODEL-SCULPTED BODY?! WHO?!"

• page 75 16.74% "If ash is the only way to kill fae (which we're told it is, but then it isn't later...?) then the warring fae probably WOULD have ash groves around. They'd just guard them super heavily."

• page 82 18.3% "Feyre sometimes seems genuinely confused about why people are angry with her for killing their friend? Like, I am staunchly in the 'she didn't know he was a fae when she killed him' camp and can prove it, but just because she didn't mean to kill their friend doesn't mean she didn't do it."

• page 82 18.3% "And the fact that the book itself can't decide whether she did it on purpose or not is really off putting and makes Feyre's confusion over Andras' friends' anger even more confusing to me."

• page 88  19.64% ""With that arrogance, no wonder Lucien found my presence as a replacement for his friend to be abhorrent." There is so much to unpack in this sentence"

• page 88  19.64% "First, we are back to Feyre apparently being confused that people are upset she killed a friend of theirs. I realize she didn't do it on purpose, but like, really?"

• page 88  19.64% "Second, it isn't arrogant to resent someone who takes your friend's place? And talking about it like you took Andras' job/seat at the table instead of being taken for killing him is weird?"

• page 88  19.64% "Third, that sentence structure. Jesus. If I accept the sentiment here, it really should have been something like 'with that arrogance, no wonder he abhorred me replacing his friend.' Look, I even kept your SAT word in there"

• page 96  21.43% "Can we discuss the writing though? "He was hardly wearing enough clothing for the winter that would await us once we crossed the wall."

Seriously? Look at this:

"He wasn't wearing enough for the winter that waited on the other side of the wall."

Better, no? This whole thing reads like an early draft."

• page 98  21.88% "Can this book just decide whether it wants Feyre to have killed Andras because he was a fairy or not because it really can't pick and it's driving me NUTS."

• page 100  22.32% "If this theme was continued (or, like, ever mentioned again) I'd like the line about the consequences of firing a single arrow"

• page 106  23.66% ""You can't write, yet you learned hot to hunt, to survive. How?"

I'm sorry is Tamlin/this book under the impression that reading/writing is necessary for hunting and surviving?"

• page 108  24.11% "STOP MAKING EVERY DAY FIGHTING KNIVES/DAGGERS SUPER FANCY 2K18"

• page 127  28.35% "The description of the Suriel is actually good and manages to be creepy. It's a good start, but given that we never then see (or even hear of) the Suriel DOING ANYTHING, I remain unconvinced of its scariness."

• page 134  29.91% "I still don't object to this sequence aside from the weirdness of the show Naga thing. Feyre isn't supposed to be the best fighter in all the land, she's a young hunter. It makes sense that she can't win a fight against fae, given what we know about fae."

• page 134  29.91% "I just question later events in regards to fighting/not fighting, Feyre's Gargantuan Power Up, and the peril (or lack thereof) when she's in fights."

• page 137  30.58% "NOW is when you decide to follow advice? Now, when looking around could give you some agency and answers? This is bullshit."

• page 139  31.03% "Let us assume for the sake of argument that fae DO follow current-day mortal marriage customs, no matter how silly that seems to me."

• page 139  31.03% "Let us FURTHER assume that being married is the only way to have a family, since that's what Feyre seems to think. There are still all sorts of ways for Alis to have been married even if she isn't wearing a wedding ring. She could choose not to wear the ring at work. She could be widowed."

• page 139  31.03% "But FIRST let us address the fact that apparently the only way to have a family is to be married. It's incredibly hypocritical of Feyre, first of all, to talk about her family and then be surprised that someone has a family because they aren't married."

• page 139  31.03% "Alis could have siblings like Feyre. She has parents SOMEWHERE. She could have non-biological children. She could have biological children! MARRIAGE IS NOT A PREREQUISITE FOR CHILDREN OR EVEN BEING IN A LOVING ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP."

• page 150  33.48% "Strange as it is to say, I actually DO like this part. It's one of the few moments where our characters show compassion and uncomplicated kindness. That's always nice to see, especially when our main character has been told multiple times that she's too good a person to be wherever she is."

• page 154  34.38% "You had to go and ruin it, book. How many times do I have to point out that Feyre didn't shoot Andras 'with hate in her heart'? She shot him because he looked like a wolf and she was hungry enough to try wolf meat. Just because she considered the possibility of him being fae doesn't mean she meant to shoot a fae."

• page 154  34.38% "I'd also like to point out that the narration here makes it seem like she's only sorry for killing somebody because it hurt the hot guy's feelings."

• page 157  35.04% "Is this the meadow scene from Twilight because the world doesn't need more of those"

• page 160  35.71% "How long have you been seventeen, Tamlin?"

• page 162  36.16% "Ew ew ew ew"

• page 163  36.38% ""Tamlin's glorious body was honed by centuries of fighting and brutality"

...sexy? I guess? Realtalk, what's the appeal of the brutality here?"

• page 163  36.38% ""I don't think born peasants have your kind of diction." Some part of me wanted to come up with a comment about snobbery, but... well, he was right, and I couldn't blame him for being a skilled observer."

• page 163  36.38% "First of all, I thought Nesta was supposed to be the snob. Second, those born peasants can write, Feyre, so I'd back off if I were you. (Seriously, earlier she says she didn't learn to write because Nesta and Elain were too snobby to let her go to the village school)"

• page 164  36.61% "How is 'prince of merchants' an inherited title?"

• page 165  36.83% ""I smiled and told him about those years in the woods" We never hear about it, though. God forbid."

[shipbuildings]

WE ALL HAVE STORIES TO TELL.

But this much I'm certain of: it doesn't happen immediately. You'll finish reading and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe a year, maybe even several years. And out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you'll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. But you won't understand why or how. You'll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. And then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name. And then the nightmares will begin.

This is not for you.

Six years ago, a class of fifty walked into a forest in BC. A group of university freshmen much like any other; there were the prerequisite jocks, cheerleaders, loners, partiers, technology junkies, etc. etc. Every cliché one could possibly imagine was represented in this group. Ecology 123, after all, was a gen. ed. So its student population was rather varied.

As they often are.

But the point is as follows: out of the fifty that entered that forest during that fateful summer, only three walked out alive. As for what happened in-between – well. That is a bit of a subject of debate.

Again. As they often are.

The official story of what happened is this; some of these students found a rather large patch of Psilocybe semilanceata. Use of these so-called ‘ magic mushrooms ’ quickly spread throughout the group. And under the influence, a student ran off a cliff. Which proceeded to happen forty-six more times. Question further and you’ll get vague references to the Mumbai ‘ sweet ‘ seawater incident, the Tanganyika laughter epidemic, and the Dancing plague of 1518. A horrible tragedy, said the University. Or so I would like to think. There were settlements. Non-disclosure agreements. Each family was well compensated.

Including my own, in case you were wondering.

But what really happened is slightly more … disturbing. And possibly the reason why that official account is so laughable, but never challenged. Sometimes the truth is simply much too terrible -- terrible to the point that a lie may seem like a kindness in comparison. In that way, those who lost their lives are immortalized; now martyrs, now victims, pretty little packages wrapped up in a name, their sins buried along with them and long forgotten by the living left behind. 

As I’ve said before. 

The story with the animals is always the better story.

But those words aren’t mine. They don’t belong to me. That observation was made by another -- a long, long time ago, much before I had realized that there was never a tiger hunting us down, picking us off, and there never had been.

His name, in case you were wondering, is Richard Battle. He lives in Toronto with his boyfriend, Elliott Broodmoor, and bartends at some needlessly trendy restaurant chain mid-town. They are some of the only survivors. And we haven’t spoken since I left them for dead and joined an Organization populated almost exclusively by psychopaths to save my own skin.

It’s a long story.

But I digress. If I wanted to speak with Richard to find out what he knew and when he knew it, I realized I’d have to confront him face-to-face. He wouldn’t take my calls, after all. Or answer my increasingly desperate emails.

So that’s how I found myself at 1090 Don Mills Road, drinking some ‘ Artisan ’ craft beer that was probably cut with Budweiser behind the counter.

* * * 

It’s a quiet night, the bar mostly populated by people pecking away at smartphones and laptops, noses buried in the blue-grey light of whatever so happened to be currently catching their interest. As for me, I kept my book bag slung over my shoulder and my notebooks packed, making sure I had a clear sight-line to the nearest exit... and a clear footpath. I may have been desperate for answers, but that doesn’t mean I was stupid. Or no more stupid than usual, anyways.

“Mmm, drinking alone, huh? Did your date stand you up?”

When I turn to face him, the glass he’s cleaning slips out of his hands and shatters on the faux-marble tiles.

Nobody so much as flinches. But the look on his face... well. It probably shouldn’t be graced with a description for both our sakes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just got caught off guard, is all. Can you sweep that up? I’m going out for a smoke.”

He shimmies out from behind the bar and I silently stand, downing the rest of my pint and the shot belonging to the distracted businesswoman sitting beside me, slapping a fifty on the countertop before I finally follow.

Not my finest moment, I know. But in my defence, I was reasonably sure he was going to punch me.

Since it’s summer, the sun hasn’t set quite yet despite the fact that it must be just past nine pm. Children play in the park across the street, their parents eating overpriced gelato from stale waffle cones as they watch their charges splash through fountains and dart about on fresh-cut grass. Richard stiffens as I stand beside him, a cigarette perched between his deft, nimble fingers, work apron slung over his shoulder.

“You smoke yet, Philososhit?”

I nod, no, as he watches me from the corner of his eye.

“Damn shame. Maybe it would help keep your mouth occupied, instead of it spewing all the garbage it normally does.”

His expression is humourless as if he is a man walking to his own execution.

“Hello to you too.” I reply quietly, keeping my voice low. “Glad to see not much has changed since we last spoke.”

“We still wouldn’t be speaking if it was up to me.”

“As I’m well aware, but I couldn’t just let this go. And I think you understand why, despite how much you despise me.”

There’s a lull for a time -- me, wishing I was unaware of the gravity of what is taking place right now, and him, mouth drawn in a thin, grim line.

“You shouldn’t’ve come here.” He finally says. “No good comes from chasing ghosts, bookman. You should know that by now.”

“And yet you’re here, alive and well. Unless I’m mistaken, and we’re somehow conversing from beyond the grave.”

That manages to illicit a slight upwards turn of his lips.

“A joke? That’s pretty unlike you.”

“And the domestic life isn’t unlike you? The Richard Battle I knew was obsessed with heroics, and I can scarcely recall a time when you didn’t have your switchblade in your hand.”

He snorts dismissively.

“One: don’t you know it’s the tragic hero that always dies in the end? And two: the whole knife-nut thing kind of came with the territory of being trapped in a living nightmare with a bunch of psychos formerly known as my friends.”

“So are you saying that the Richard I knew is effectively gone?”

“All that shit went down years ago. Even if it hadn’t happened, he’d be gone anyways, just like how your dramatic evil alter-ego --”

“Oh god, don’t remind me.”

I groan, burying my head in my hands, and he laughs, smiles.

It looks good on him.

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve put you through the wringer enough. So, what brings you to my neck of the... town?”

Nice save. He taps ash from the rapidly advancing line of glowing embers, watching them, his shoes, the passing cars being parked by the valet... anything but me. But now that I finally have his attention, I’m not quite sure what to say. Countless questions rise and die in my throat within the period of a second, then two, tasting of bile and hops.

“I wanted...” I start, then stop, quite possibly speechless for the first time in forever. He doesn’t interrupt, though, and eventually I finally manage to speak of the unspeakable.

“Richard... how did you know? How did you know that what we were seeing, what we thought was happening, it wasn’t --”

“Real?”

He laughs again, but this time the sound is bitter. He grinds his cigarette into the pavement with the heel of his sneaker with more than a hint of prejudice.

“You’re littering.”

“I know.”

It is his silence, not his answer that speaks volumes. The way his gaze looks through me, but doesn't really see me, the way he suddenly seems to be very, very far away tells me everything without him having to say a single word.

Sometimes the truth is simply much too terrible 

“...if you really gotta know? We were all starving, dehydrated, half out of our minds with grief and god knows what else.”

Terrible to the point

“I didn’t know what I was saying. Just like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

That a lie

“Sorry you came all this way to not find what you were looking for.”

May seem like a kindness in comparison

“... I suppose some mysteries are best left unsolved.”

As per usual, Mr. Battle can be read as easily as Dr. Seuss; he can’t hide the relief that washes over him, relaxing the tension in shoulders. But now I know, just like he knows. And he was right.

I really wish I didn’t.

This is his revenge, I suppose. Any sort of violent retribution he could direct towards me would have accomplished nothing. No one would mourn me. In fact, it’s doubtful anyone would even notice I was gone. Perhaps after a few weeks of no word my colleagues would finally send someone to look for me -- the police only called when the door of my apartment seemed to be holding back the scent of petrichor and rot and pennies. And my death, I imagine, would be ruled a suicide, a result of long-repressed trauma that I spoke of sparingly. Such a shame, would say my professors, my peers, and under their breath they would mutter good riddance. But that sort of ending would be too good for me. No, what Richard will instead kill me with is the little-death, the death that brings total destruction. It is the death that comes not from knowing too much, but rather that comes from knowing just enough to make you wonder.

It is the echoed question: what more could I have done?

It is the echoed question: why didn’t I save them?

It is nothing I don’t deserve, and it is nothing I would ever blame him for. This is how a life is taken; slowly, gently, deliberately, with feeling. And this is how justice is served when your crimes go unpunished: an eye for an eye for an eye.

Richard looks at me oddly, and it takes me a moment to realize that I’m smiling.

“You okay, Walt?”

It’s the first time he’s called me that since I left him for dead, and I didn’t realize until now how much I missed it.

“... no, I’m not. But I think you will be, one day. If you aren’t halfway there already.”

“Huh. I guess some things don’t change, ‘cause you’re right on the money. I mean, as always.”

He reaches into his pants pocket and holds up something at my eye level, a small black box nestled in his palm. I stare, and after an awkwardly long moment he finally opens it.

It’s a ring. Simple, honest. For all I know it could be platinum, white gold, silver, steel. But I have a feeling that’s not what matters.

“I figured Elliott would call me a sap if I got anything more, uh, complicated. Plus, all my tips can only really get me so far...”

“He’ll love it,” I reply without hesitation. “In his own typical Broodmoor way. Expect teasing of only the half-good natured sort.”

“Wouldn’t count on anything else.” He snaps the box shut, the clack emitting an air of uneasy finality. “Maybe we’ll even make it official one day; file with a justice of the peace or somethin’. I’d invite you to witness, but. You know.”

He shrugs noncommittally as I shuffle from one foot to the other, shifting my weight in an attempt to make my focus follow.

“No, I...” I sigh, frustrated by my two word strong vocabulary. “I understand. I never expected to be forgiven --”

“Ding-dong, you are wrong. Guess there’s a first time for everything.” Richard looks at me from his sidelined gaze, eyes moving over me from head to toe. “It’s not that we can’t forgive you, or that we haven’t. We were kids, you included, and we all made choices we’re not proud of. But we can’t keep looking back like you do, like you have to...”

His voice goes low, an accusation almost as much as a confession.

“The way you are now, after everything... you probably would’ve been better off dead.”

A small semi-circle of dark grey appears on the pavement. Then another. Then another. 

“... Yes, I believe so.” I answer, staring bleakly at the sky. Droplets gather on the lenses of my glasses, leaving wet trails where they existed once, and have existed, but do not exist anymore.

We stand there, alone together, lost in reverie, or perhaps just watching the world pass us by as if nothing has happened.

“I should get back to the bar.” Richard finally speaks, voice level and quiet. I try to memorize every dip, every peak and valley with what amounts to reverent worship, but I’ll likely soon forget them just as I did once before.

Life is very long.

“Ah, I see. Well, it was a pleasure, Richard, even if you can’t say the feeling was mutual.”

He stops, pausing. For a moment I think he’s going to hug me, and I almost recoil in revulsion.

But instead he slugs me right in the face, a perfect right hook that I would’ve never saw coming even if I had been prepared for it. Which I wasn’t. 

Obviously.

“Yeah, it was.” He says with a grin, knuckles raw and cracked and bleeding. “Take care of yourself, Walter. You owe it to them to do that at least.”

And that’s how he left me; sprawled on the pavement, glasses askew, nose bloody, a nasty shade of purple and sickly yellow-green blooming on my skin.

* * *

I suppose now you’re wondering -- why did I write this?

Telling you this story accomplishes nothing. I accomplished nothing. The only thing I learned was something I already knew. But perhaps that is what I needed all along. Perhaps I needed to share it with you, too. And while I know it is exceedingly unlikely that anyone will read this -- and even more exceedingly unlikely that you will understand it -- ultimately, we do not write for the sake of others. We do not write because we expect it to be read. The very act of putting words on a page is akin to shouting in a canyon; the only thing you hear back is your own echo. But that does not mean you can fight the compulsion forever.

Writing about writing only ever happens in the epilogue.

I know, however, that there are no happy endings. There will be no marvellous, touching reunion where the past six years are revealed to have been an elaborate hoax, no cathartic cry-session where my soul is magically cleansed. As time passes, I have grown no stronger, no wiser, no better than I was when part of me was cleaved from myself. I will have to bear the scars forever. And I will have to carry the weight of what i’ve done with me until I die.

So I ask myself: Did I do any good? That question, it seems, comes up a fair deal. It follows me endlessly, the Shadow casted over my every action.

But maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe what I’m really asking myself is: Did I do enough? 

And my answer, of course

is a quiet 

resounding 

no.

[thetrueoverlordbear]

I’ll be honest: 2018 felt like a long year for me, and I realized that as I looked back at all the MTPAU posts I made for the past months of that year. Updates have been less frequent, and I hadn’t posted anything else during February. Still, it’s not like nothing good came out of all of that, so yeah, praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much because of that, then.

And speaking of good stuff, I should continue counting my blessings, and perhaps this sort of post can be quite a good way to do better~

But first, I’d like to get December 2018’s list of posts out of the way:

two reblogs: a Penman article about the UP Fighting Maroons, and a Beneath the Tangles Christmas post (written by Medieval Otaku) involving Gintama

Tobby’s Freestyle Rap Practice Compilation 11

“That Feeling of Falling That Jolts You Awake,” a KagePro fanfic inspired by “Additional Memory”

this year’s Christmas reflection

Now, back to what I was going to talk more about: blessings. I think I’ve said something like this before in my Christmas reflection this year, but anyway, blessings are stuff to count more than lack, and of course, it’s more difficult to do than counting zero and repeating zero over and over and over. I mean, really, think about the difficulty of going “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten” and so on compared to just saying “Zero” over and over and over again. Zero counting’s too easy for me, and I’ve been getting bored of it, though at the same time, it becomes tempting when the difficulty in counting gets higher and higher.

Zero counting becomes particularly tempting, though, when I try to count how many blessings I alone have brought upon myself:

Get it?

Now, as much as it can be real nice to feel like I can sing Drake’s “All Me” with confidence, that is something I can only achieve by lying to myself. Okay, so what does that leave me with? Self-deprecation like we usually do these days, especially online? What does that make all my growth, then? And what does that make all your growth? Social constructs created by the lying minds and hearts of humanity? If so, then why the freaking nuts are we still here, then?

Thus, I find myself seeing more and more sense in giving praise and thanks to God Almighty very much every single day. Oh, and I’m now an officially committed member of my university’s Christ’s Youth in Action. I’m quite surprised by how fast it took for me to get there, really…and I thought I was being lazy the whole time, going to all those gatherings because I felt the pressures of free time and parental guidance! God Almighty has been blessing a fool, indeed! Then again, Saint Paul already had a written note about that before in 1 Corinthians 4:10, so yeah, way ahead of me in the discovery there, yo…and that’s not even the first time it’s been proven that God’s been blessing fools.

And I could just refuse all those blessings and say “God, please let me prove myself by myself alone,” but as I have learned so many times before, that is simply an exercise in futility, for I’d be like the dumb preachers in Flannery O’Connor’s fiction pieces if I insist on doing that. Well, that, and God Almighty loves us as much as we ask Him to, and we can only prove ourselves when God lets us. Really, where does all the goodness in the universe come from, anyway? The void? Huh, no wonder I still find myself dumb and self-hating whenever I try to believe in me, myself, and I alone in living, then. Better not go tell others “Believe in yourself” without enough grounding, too. Does that make all the grinding we do pointless and unnecessary, though? Well, of course not, because we still have to teach each other about how to better count our blessings…and a bunch of us still don’t even know how to count blessings! I mean, really, just look at Our Lord Jesus Christ:

He is carrying a blessing, and He’s gonna be nailed to that blessing. Sound like nonsense? Well, think of the Cross like it’s work, dear. It’s real difficult to carry, and we get better benefits by being nailed to it.

Seriously, with how we complain about work every single day, we might as well call it the most humiliating thing in life, all because of how tedious it can be and how empty it can make us feel with all the painful routine for shining rewards that easily slip away from us. Nailing ourselves to it would also make us more of a laughingstock to our fellow fools, then. I certainly felt something like that (mostly from myself, considering how things usually go for me) as I thought about how I was cutting down on my Tobbywork time and changing up the activities there for the sake of more important stuff. But remember: Crucifixion was the most humiliating way to go in Jesus’ time and society on earth, yet God Almighty the Son accepted such a fate for our sake. He let us treat Him like a slave so that He could get closer to us and show that He understands how much we feel like slaves too. Hard to imagine slave owners doing that, no? That, and it would make the prideful catch feelings, even if said prideful were also a slave trying to break free. I should know, ’cause I’ve had times when I considered any good non-existent as long as it were surrounded by evil…and thinking about it some more now, that’s quite a dangerous and cynical way to think about things, no?

And hey, the fact that we can do good is proof that we can relate to God Almighty! He’s Perfection, after all, and if He looks shady, then that’s just us foolish humans making Him look so. That, and if we’re nothing without God, then the fact that we can do good has to come from somewhere, nah?

Now, what the freaking nuts is all that religious rambling I’ve been doing? Well, it’s something I’ve been doing more and more of with the help of my lovely girlfriend (We’re now one year into our relationship, OH YEAH!) as well during the past year, helping me practice and express my faith better and better, especially as she stays with me despite how hurtful, stupid, and saddening I can be a bunch of times. I’ve been doing that rambling more through voice chats than through writing before, though, and now, thanks to all that help, I have gained more confidence in being more religious in public. Huh, and I guess CYA (and a lot more instruments of God Almighty) has been helping me more than I thought. Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much yet again, then!

Okay, now I should really go down to more ordinary levels and come out of the UFO I have been booming all my talk in. Like, I have been getting a lot of feedback, especially from school, about how my writing lately has been very…alienating.

See what I mean?

And speaking of school, I’ve been doing okay…well, unless you count how I’m trying to catch up for my thesis, which caught me not taking it seriously enough, no matter how much I believed I was. Like, I’m still stuck in whipping up a decent proposal portfolio for the prerequisite Poetics class, and that state was also caused by how ignorant and ungrateful I was towards my education, particularly my university (Seriously, I have this strong feeling that I pissed off my Poetics Professor real hard). Bad news is that I may need to extend for another semester past the upcoming one and pay for that extension (and the boarding house unit rent and more), good news is that I only have one other lecture class to accomplish in my curriculum. In other words, I have to take this more seriously and make something freaking awesome with all this time I’m taking, and freaking nuts, I know I can, especially with God Almighty around! I gotta count my blessings and teach others how to count theirs as well! And really, thinking about it some more, isn’t that how research is supposed to go? Like, we have to look back at all the good things humanity has done before, and then we go build something better out of all that! It’s not an exercise in envy, but an exercise in growth. If we’re gonna note mistakes, failures, weaknesses, and voids and all that, then they’re for us to fill, fix, and improve…but that’s easier said than done. Again, zero counting can be quite tempting with its crazy easy, especially while going through struggle. Still, at the very least, we can do better, and God Almighty certainly understands how we need to struggle to do so! I mean, really, take another look at Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Praise and thanks be to Him very much again, yo!

Now, although I found a potentially better idea for my thesis recently, I’d like to take it easy right now and set it aside for after vacation. Again, I struggle with rushing stuff, and all that rushing makes me wanna be more complacent. That, and with how older I’m growing now, I gotta remember to learn and do chores and relaxation better. And thankfully, my family isn’t overdemanding, and if they are, then at the very least, they really strive well towards understanding us better. Otherwise, they’d probably be doing things like going all stingy on me about paying for the boarding house unit I have right now. And man, I think I’m realizing how more about how stupid I’ve been to them because of how I ask them not to bug me during my free time for my enjoyment, all while asking them at times to bug me hard during my free time to prevent excess, as if I don’t have any bit of ability to do so. I guess I really shouldn’t complain so much when they go hard on me, then. I mean, sure, they’re not perfect, but still, they know better than me, and I gotta know what I gotta work with and how to work it well before I go learn about how to work it better.

And as for my siblings, I really should give them more credit. One brother has more street smarts than me, my sister has better fashion, makeup, and sports sense, and the youngest brother is learning how to socialize and live better than we all thought! And I really should cut my remaining living grandparents some slack, since they’re peeps who taught my mother a lot about how to give it all for loved ones, and along with that, my parents will be as old as them one day, and I’ll be as old as my parents as well. If I don’t have faith in them, I might as well have no faith in myself and the rest of humanity. Good thing God’s here to help us out in our strive and struggle, then!

And now, it’s time to remember what I have to deal with in my chores…and even relaxation as well.

So yeah, now I have to remember how much I good have with me as I work up stuff. I mean, why pretend to be from somewhere lower? Yes, even in rapping, which I’ve been doing more of during 2018. And yes, I now feel like I don’t need to pretend to be from some neighborhood that seems more impoverished than it actually is, especially after all the schooling I had to go through in many ways…Besides, if being rich and popular means being a clown, then hey, at least I got a decent job. Really, the world needs some better clowns too, yo!

Just look at one of my inspirations right here. I really wanna outdo him, y’know? And I know I can. I look up to Saint John Bosco as well, yo!

Besides, there’s no need to be scared of going religious while being a clown too, especially since being real means being weirder than fiction! Them big rappers out there are complaining about getting their styles bitten, too, so yeah, I really should help them out with that! And hey, I guess God’s telling me something, considering how I have a leader bro in CYA who has some nice appreciation for rap as well! Praise and thanks be to Him very much again, then!

Oh, and speaking of music, I’ve been making and posting song covers and other music stuff with a pace closer to that of the pace my faves usually take with their work. So far, my girlfriend’s getting more and more impressed, so I guess I’m going somewhere better! Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much again, then! Also, I’d like some more and continued help with slowing down and being more careful with my work pace in general…Maybe I can even make and strengthen more friends through my work that way, too!

And speaking of friends, well, I’ve been feeling like I have really weird friends, maybe even alienating just like me, especially considering how I see cynicism and craziness prominent in a lot of them…or maybe they’re just doing a good job at exposing how cynical and crazy I myself have been. Or both…though the latter’s more likely. I got friends like Medieval Otaku, friends I consider wiser than me when it comes to the ways of God and the world. I got friends like silverbug28, friends I feel like debating with as well. And I got friends like PastorThomasNelson, friends I wanna go crazy with. Oh, and there’s also friends like Biwa/Kisaragi and YUuuu/Roa., who feel like really nice people to talk with, so nice that I feel shy and find myself struggling with self-loathing again, though at the same time, I wanna talk and work with them more.

You know what, I really shouldn’t be scared if I have friends who really are like this guy here…because I’m the same, yo!

Alright, I should just love myself, and at the same time (not one before the other, yo), love others and God Almighty. With that, it’s time to understand, acknowledge, and improve! Praise and thanks be to God Almighty very much yet again!

Now, is there anything else I consider worth talking about for this announcement/reflection/update post…? Writing? Like, fiction and poetry I made and posted as Tobby? Well, I consider “The Most Beautiful Challenge” my favorite original fiction piece I posted during 2018 (though I made it during the year before it), while “The Empress and Her Guard” is my favorite poem I posted during 2018 (and I also made it during 2017, I think). I also find my 2018 progress for my Fate Series fanfic Crawling to the Dawn impressive. And I also made one comic during 2018, and along with that are a new bunch of practice drawings, which also got me learning from a CYA bro that I need to work on my foundations (e.g. circles and lines and all that for figures and stuff), thus getting me motivated to some practice drawings for that:

You know what, I’ll throw in one more drawing I haven’t posted yet:

Note: This was made before the foundation practice drawings.

And with that…well, I’m back to zero again. Guess it’s time to end this post, then.

So yeah, that’s pretty much what 2018 got me, I think. I feel like I missed something, but I guess I’ll leave that to y’all readers of mine. I can’t just sit here thinking and typing about this forever, y’know! That, and I can and should make blog post writing less on-the-spot (e.g. setting an upload date and writing the post for a set number of days before that date). Besides, considering what I’ve learned, the best works of art are well-planned surprises, so yeah…and man, doesn’t that sound like something God Almighty’s real good at?

Praise and thanks be to God very much yet again, then. And hey, Happy New Year to all of you, too! God keep on blessing you all!

I upped my meme powahz for this one. And hey, Happy New Year, y'all. I'll be honest: 2018 felt like a long year for me, and I realized that as I looked back at all the MTPAU posts I made for the past months of that year.

[shenanigumi]

20 Questions Tag Meme

I was tagged by @lanaya-lavellan​! Putting it up here first, since this blog was the one that got tagged.

1. How tall are you? 5 feet 4.5 inches at last count.

2. What color and style is your hair? Brown, except it’s the kind of brown that can’t really make up its mind—streaks of lighter and darker, sometimes bits of gold, mostly almost copper. It’s wavy and kinda bushy and falls past my waist at this point, so I should really have my mom trim the ends. It gets in the way all the time, but literally the only thing I know how to “do” with my hair is put it up in a ponytail. A low ponytail. I can’t even do the high ones like Chizuru’s got.

3. What color are your eyes? Boring brown. But I like to think it’s kind of a nice brown. A clear, chocolate brown. Not the dull brown I’ve seen in other people.

4. Do you wear glasses? Yeah, have for the past 15 years. When I was six, my mom took me to the San Jose Opera production of Die Zauberflöte and we found out I couldn’t see the subtitles without binoculars, so we hooked me up with glasses as soon as possible after that. My eyesight has been getting steadily worse ever since. Literally everything farther than 3-4 inches from my eyes is blurry without my glasses.

5. Do you wear braces? *shudders* Please don’t ask about my teeth. I had braces for a year and a half, from sixth to eighth grade. Apart from that, I’ve technically had retainers since second grade, but it’s been literal years since I’ve worn them and now my teeth are subtly starting to shift again so all my suffering may have been for naught ughhhh

6. What is your fashion sense? You say “fashion sense” like I have any kind of sense for fashion. Alas, I do not. Most often it’s a.) 1 of about 5 pairs of almost identical skinny jeans, each of which I wear repeatedly until obviously dirty; b.) whatever t-shirts are clean; c.) an extra layer of some sort if the weather calls for it, typically a zipper hoodie; and d.) boots or sandals. I have exactly one functional belt, and though I own multiple pairs of shoes, I wear exactly one pair of boots and two or three identical pairs of sandals to death. I do adore dresses and skirts, but they’re so much effort I hardly ever get/take the opportunity to wear them.

7. Do you have any siblings? No, thank gods.

8. What kind of student were/are you? The kind that was above average when she was a kid, so she developed expectations of natural aptitude—the kind that panics whenever she gets a C or lower on any given assignment due to a phobia of disappointing her parents—the kind that started struggling to do her assignments because of the weight of her own unrealistically high standards—and the kind that learned to really, genuinely hate school because of it, yet still feels obligated to participate. Don’t even talk to me about school, seriously. I'm strung out so tight I’ll snap if you touch me.

9. What is your favorite subject? I really do hate school. I don’t even like my past Creative Writing classes, for gods’ sakes (blame the teachers I’ve had). I’m okay with my small press editing class because my classmates are chill and one of them legit runs the class, but like, I literally don’t have a favorite subject. Unless you count my independent study on Bakumatsu Japan, because that’s fucking awesome.

10. Favorite TV shows? I don’t watch TV alone, but I’ll watch some things my family puts on, like certain dumb game shows or Project Runway whenever it’s in season. I also sometimes get hooked on Law & Order (especially Criminal Intent), even if I usually can’t watch the first several minutes due to general squeamishness. Oh, and if RWBY counts, I guess I like that too, although my enthusiasm has waned somewhat as the series progresses.

11. Favorite books? Sorry, but for all my love of writing, college has totally ruined my appetite for reading, as well as my ability to read for pleasure. I can’t even remember the last book I read all the way through, let alone ones I actually like. I suppose the longtime favorites that have stood the test of time include The Thirteen Clocks by James Thurber and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I also seem to remember liking the Pippi Longstocking series by Astrid Lindgren.

12. Favorite pastime? Writing, first and foremost (and, more prominently, bouncing ideas around!!); dancing, at least whenever I remember I like it; and playing video games, more for the plot than the experience. Seriously, I am such a casual gamer. I’ll be on the easiest of modes and I’ll still probably have a hard time. That’s a big part of why I like otome… no actual gameplay required…

13. Any regrets? This is depressing enough already, come on! But I don’t really have any long-term crushing regrets, so moving right along…

14. What is your dream job? I'm technically already a writer, since I write constantly, but getting paid for my passions would be awesome. My ultimate goal is to be able to sustain myself just by writing fiction, whether novels or short stories… but in the meantime, I’d love getting a day job as an editor. Frustrating as it usually is, it brings me a strange sort of enjoyment, and I like to think I’m good at it.

15. Do you want to get married? Being only demisexual and grayromantic, I’m not entirely sure marriage and I agree with one another. Besides, marriage is more a side effect than a life goal, wouldn’t you say? Lots of prerequisites, don’t you think? I’ve only checked one box, so… I mean… we’ll see. But if anyone gets me any diamonds, fuck that, I’m saying no till I get a better ring. Amethyst is where it’s at. Nobody gets enslaved and worked to death over amethyst.

16. Do you want kids? How many? In my current state, I absolutely could not handle kids, and it’s difficult for me to think of not being in my current state, so I can’t give a solid answer. See, I feel like in order to truly be said to “want kids”, you have to be okay with all the possibilities. If it were possible for me to have a single blood-related daughter without having sex, artificially inseminating, or being pregnant at all, I might consider it. Maybe. Until then, nahhhhhhhh.

17. How many countries have you visited? Just the one I’m from. Might consider exploring more now that a certain “mangled apricot hellbeast” (to quote someone on Twitter) has been elected president, though. Think some of my family members can hook me up with an Italian citizenship if I ever need to make an escape…

18. What’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had? There was a super-symbolic dream that really upset me (fear, anger, sadness, you name it, I felt it) back in eighth grade, all about how so much sexism and racism in America has been swept under the rug instead of getting fixed, and how the same people have ultimately been in power for centuries. It was really deep and unsettling, and I was only like 13-14 so I didn’t know how to process it. I’m still not totally sure.

19. Do you have any enemies? Nah. There used to be people I hated, and I’m fairly certain people hated me too, but I haven’t had anyone I’d call an enemy since roughly high school. The last person I hated was one of my Creative Writing teachers. I refer to him only as “Professor Jackass”.

20. Do you have a datemate? …Hey, ain’t that a planner? Or are you referring to a significant other? (And if that’s the case, if you marry your datemate, do they have the potential to become a housespouse?! I might even consider getting married now!!) Anyway, I do have a planner, but never learned to use it. I also happen to have a boyfriend of just over two months, and I don’t really know how that happened, or what I should be doing with him, but he somehow manages to make my life brighter—so I hope I can do the same for him, in my own inimitably clumsy way.

Tagging: @doodlethewhiteraven​, @sabinasanfanfic​, @impracticaldemon​, @shell-senji​, @kazama-hime​, and @queen-mizera​ if you haven’t gotten this already! But please feel free to NOT do it.

[comicteaparty]

November 30th-December 6th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from November 30th, 2019 to December 6th, 2019.  The chat focused on the following question:

After reading your story, what message do you hope reader’s takeaway from it?

Cronaj

This is a difficult question to answer, partly because I don't necessarily have ONE theme or takeaway that I'm trying to get across, nor is it very obvious. In Whispers of the Past, (https://www.callous-whispers-of-the-past.com/), despite being a high fantasy, the story centers around self-discovery, the difficulties of families, betrayal, coping with grief, and the importance of loved ones. That being said, if I had to give it an overarching theme, it would have to be either: "Revenge hurts you just as much as the enemy," or "Remember the past, mourn the past, but move on into the future," or "A stranger in a strange land can still make it home." Who knows, maybe my readers will get a completely different message, but that's the beauty of storytelling. Everyone interprets it differently.(edited)

AntiBunny

In AntiBunny http://antibunny.net/ I don't want to tell people what to take away. My idea is to ask a question and allow people to draw their own conclusions. TVtropes calls the idea "Death of the Author." It's the idea that the creator's intent does not determine what one should or should not interpret from a work.

The biggest question I ask out of everything in AntiBunny is "what is identity?" To that end I've asked what determines identity? History, race, gender? Do these things matter? Is identity forced upon you by your environment, by the circumstances of your birth, or is it something you choose for yourself?

So in short, I don't have a message exactly, but rather a question.

Eightfish

https://tapas.io/series/Puppeteercomic I mostly just want to tell this story, and to explore/subvert some tropes I like. Specifically, mind control. But it's also sort of a message to a close friend I have. I want to say to them that they shouldn't feel like they're not good enough for not doing enough. I like them for who they are, not what they do. I guess I want to remind them that they have people who care about them. I've told them this before but not sure they believe me. (On the very slight chance that they are reading this my main character is not them! He has many negative traits that they don't have, because I love me my flawed characters, haha)(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

For Phantomarine (http://www.phantomarine.com/) I can boil the whole message down to a single idea: the acceptance of moral greyness. Nothing is black and white. Your greatest enemy may deserve empathy, and your greatest ally may hurt you to your core. Everyone is capable of hurting and being hurt. And you can never be sure of who’s suffered the most. A little empathy goes a long way toward a better world.

Desnik

As far as a message goes, the most I can do is write from my own flawed perspective and experience. Once someone else reads it, the story will activate in a way unique to them. My hope is to inspire a fanfic or two, or maybe the reader's own personal projects (edited)

(cause like if someone walks away form my project thinking it was written poorly, maybe that will inspire them to out-write me, hehe)

Deo101

In Millennium (http://millennium.spiderforest.com/) I hope that readers get the message "People matter, and that means you do too." Still working on fully showing that, but I just have a lot of love for people and I want that to come through in my work more than anything else.

Mharz

In The Angel with Black Wings (http://blackwings.mharz.com/) I have a lot of message I want to convey but the biggest one is who or what is the REAL monster not just in this fictional world but in the real life world as well. I'll leave that answer up to everyone's imagination. : )

keii4ii

Heart of Keol (https://heartofkeol.com/) is about "you can deeply care about each other, yet still break each other's heart." While that is not the final message of the ending, it's the big prerequisite to that final message, repeated throughout the comic.

Q @CecilieQMT making WAYFINDERS

I love all these!

eli [a winged tale]

In A Winged Tale https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/keyspace-a-winged-tale/list?title_no=322364 I want readers to learn how to apply the scientific method, know the basics of doing research and statistics and to remember to be organized with the acquired data. .... I’m joking! I just want readers to enjoy a ghibli-esque story and learn that there is always hope.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I suppose ultimately I want a reader’s takeaway to be ‘That story made me feel something’, but if they also come away thinking more deeply about the thesis I’m exploring through the narrative, then I’ll really have done my job. I draw two story comics, Dark Wings: Eryl and Children of Shadow: Ashes. Both can be found here: https://www.flowerlarkstudios.com/ Unfortunately neither was planned particularly well when I first started them over a decade ago, so the main theses aren’t very obvious yet. But once both comics have progressed further, I hope that a reader will take some deep thoughts away from each. In Children of Shadow, every main character is struggling with some kind of inner demon. Most take the form of mental illnesses, but some characters will have other kinds of intense internal conflict. I want the reader to know that mental illness isn’t a character flaw to be overcome, but something that we learn to live with. And that you can still be a hero even when you feel at your weakest. Dark Wings is a story about redemption and the moral grey area. I want readers to come away thinking more deeply about what moral values are, why we have them, and whether they can be subjective. I also want them to reconsider what it is that makes a person good or bad, or if there is no real way to label a person like that.(edited)

Nutty (Court of Roses)

I don't think much about a specific message I want to push across for Court of Roses (https://courtofroses.spiderforest.com/). The main thing I wanted to do was create characters that people could relate to and watch them be good to each other, and feel good and warm as a result. So I guess it's "be good to one another, we're all unique people and have our own struggles, but draw strength from one another and everyone can do great things."

DanitheCarutor

Wow, this is a really tough one! I've never actually thought about what readers would take away from my story. I guess, if I really thought about it, and really cared there would be a few things I wanted to state through The Guide th a Healthy Relationship. http://tgtahr.spiderforest.com/ They would be that it's okay to rely on others (if they're good people who care) when you need help, that you might not ever be 100% again after dealing with something traumatic or because you're sick, and it's okay not to feel good. It's alright to rest and slow down, to have trouble finding yourself, or in short how Jessie J puts it "It's okay not to be okay." I'm not sure if any of this will translate by the end of the comic, but this is what I personally want from it for myself, and what it will hopefully project eventually. Because I personally struggle with all that stuff, and I need to tell myself "It's okay" in a really drawn out, convoluted way. Of course, readers can take whatever they want from the story, though. It's totally fine if what I get out of something isn't the same as what others are getting.

[opalmothnightingale]

Romance 101

1- 22- 18 - 

I think that many things have been stones on a path to romance, for me.  It starts when we’re born, or even before that, because the love and care is a prerequisite to being loved in any other area, in any other kind of relationship and gives the basic foundation of human, humane care and attention, love...  or the opposite, that we have to overcome, maybe?  

As we are neglected or mistreated, if that happens, maybe a deep inner pain or confusion, lack, self protection or a shutting down may happen...  And similarly, growing up, the love and care or lack or opposite of that...  All shape our vulnerable selves.  The tender, sensitive feelings, talents and senses we have either are nurtured and sensed and grown into more, the window of opportunity to keep those things open and growing...  Or else they might be folded down, put away, because no one saw them or valued them in us.  Children often don’t see their own abilities or talents as driving urges, it seems, to me, but rather pleasant impulses that are very delicate, if directed or shaped by adults to try to make them be or do other things...  So a creative child might become more linear-minded if that is the direction they are geared towards and the environment they’re saturated with.  Even so the natural inclinations might still remain, deep and latent, and they might be talents, undeveloped, slight urges pulling us this way or that if we sense and listen to them, perhaps years later or even in adulthood, even later adulthood, coming into full expression.

To me, these are the stepping stones of love I see in my life.  The taking and standing on the shoulders of the resources, the people, the buildings, paths, gardens, the visions, the vistas that were available and were shown to me, each a little at a time, in school, with parents, families, friends, the internet, learning of other cultures and their many different views, spiritual paths and other religions and eastern and new age and various different views so different from mine...  Pagan.  Native American.  And different value systems.  Psychology.  

Etc. 

So,...  and,...  Yes,...  Each of these areas of life, learning and social worlds and milieus...  Opened vast new diverse worlds over time, as more and more possibilities opened of how to see, how to interpret, how to feel and adapt and negotiate reality on all levels...  Emotionally, mentally, and the level of energy, and creatively, spiritually and with the help of spirit leading me, etc, etc... 

So,...  Wonderfully, 

These each opened me up to new kinds of love.  And spirit love opened me to new love indeed.  A love beyond human expression, so far, that I have yet found.  Telling me, showing me, making me feel and see and understand what I had never ever seen told or shown in real human material life before. 

New possibilities opened up and new ways of feeling alive, in love, joyful, passionate, compassionate, feeling meaning, purpose, a reason, a meaning for why things are as they are even if they seemed to suck or make me feel anxious, bored, etc...  So much before I had a reason, answers for interpreting them.

It all made sense and fell together, made me happy, gave me joy and pleasure...

What before was groping in the dark, stumbling, hurting and feeling empty and anxious because I didn’t know what I needed..  transformed to become more and more joy, love, reason, order, harmony, and passion, purpose.  Truly wonder, beauty at all turns, so many angles, that I could see, when I knew what I was supposed to look for.  So, life is very individual and subjective but it’s also diverse and real and solid, too...  Each of us needs to look for and use what makes us feel alive and happy...  I had to search long and deep, so far and wide before I was finally able to find enough to feel relatively stable and well in my life.  Some people find happiness right at their doorstep from a young age, and that is great but for me I had to go so far from where I began in life.  The apple rolled far from the tree indeed.  Lol

I feel like each of my people and groups of people and ideas and so on that shaped me were indeed stepping stones, keeping me alive, sustenance, joy, pleasure, kindness, and, all that good stuff...  Everybody just trying to do the best they could see how to do, even if I didn’t see it at the time, and even though great harm was a part and not always something that I think I needed so I could grow or get stronger...  But like poison mixed in that I lived on despite them and NOT because of them.

Yes sometimes the pain makes us rise above and adapt but sometimes it does the opposite, and it’s not our fault, and that is how I see things like this.  You just can say it was simply what it was, and move on, no sense in dwelling if you can move on, which I’ve found how to now..

But sometimes something puts me right back in the empty sad tired bored blah forever ugh I hate this state...  And sometimes I realize that it is only a matter of conditions that lets me be well.  And that is how it is for us all but some of us need more particular conditions to be well.  No one is free from the needs of conditions to be well in the material world, though.  So...  

I see that the things I saw as being great, wonderful, awesome and loving, sweet, beautiful, fascinating or fulfilling, and all, yeah,...  they are sometimes the same things that make me feel anxious, empty, sad, bored, these days.  Those things can’t fulfill me now.  I may have developed an allergy as my needs became more refined and I need a more pure diet, so to speak.  I didn’t know my pain then because it was always there so I didn’t know any different, didn't’ know that it was possible to be without the pain, anxiety, boredom, emptiness that these things brought me.  They brought me some good and it was the best good I’d ever had, at that point...

It gets stronger and more delicate, maybe as we go along and get more refined.  The refinement might come at a price so we’re strong yet delicate, so that we’re thriving but only because of great hardship that took its toll and we had to go through the darkness and pain and it damaged us and we sustain damage but that was all we were able to find so we did it and though we found richness and thriving, the damage is sustained, there in our bones, in our cells, not ever going away, like some permanent scar, or illness that will be with us, weakening us all our lives from now on...  

So I’m trying to be strong without succumbing to the aging and the illnesses that I’ve accumulated and can’t escape from (no law of attraction believing and denying victimhood here,...  That is not something I’m so eager to assume.  Possibilities aside, I am not going to assume, either way).  

But I’ll try and it is a day by day and intuitive process...  As I feel I get stronger sometimes I have periods of time where too much stress and disorder wrecks things and I feel like I have gone back in time, to states of depressiveness, anxiety, boredom, emptiness, confusion, lack and feeling lost... But,..

I feel spirit and intuition will be leading me forward soon and the disorder will not last too long.  It might be a sort of shaking up, plunging in the dark and still states and the sense of lost or confused feelings might actually be not the truest deepest thing...  Deep in this state there may be a light, love, power, energy and guidance that are there, and I can sense, and subtly guiding me... 

And so that I am not nearly as lost as I was, back in those old days of my life, when I seemed to get lost for endless ever dragging on hell.

The things I was once in love with feel like burdens....  We all have changed so much, me and many lovers I might have once known...  My husband and I.  Like islands that drifted so far, by forces or our own personalities, things we didn’t know would lead us so far apart...

And things that once felt so alive for me, might not anymore.  And things that fed my heart now make me allergic, in my husband...  And things that I needed from him, he got bored and completely abandoned the very foundation of why I ever really loved him romantically...  

But he somehow promptly realized he was done with the need for that,...  

And I kept trying to work it out, not realizing that he was never going to be the same again, even if he said he would try, and made promises, meager efforts, twisted, distorted and hurtful efforts...  

Just trampling on the things he once nurtured, abusing and crushing the things that once were my whole world of why I ever gave a damn about him...  and once adored him, now found him a cardboard cutout,... 

 Empty and frail and yet oppressive, heavy, crushing me too...  

Horrible weight...  just burying me, a dump full of cardboard cutouts replicated and rotting with me... 

Yet keeping me alive too...  A life gone wrong, totally transformed, a dystopia..  

This is what happens in life sometimes so I look for how to use it...

Calmly, meditatively, spirit led, passion led, inner self, higher self led, intuition making this the bigger picture I haven’t seen just yet...  So as another step on my stair to true love, truest love, vastest of love,..  It will be nothing but a laughable triviality when I see how to place it so, in the bigger image,...  And the optical illusion, of it all.

Love, inner love in myself, instead.