cottoncandyangeltwink

[honeyed-cherries]

TW MISCARRIAGE/STILLBORN

i just read one of the worst posts i’ve seen on the internet in a long ass time. it was some reddit post about an 18 year old boy who was relieved that his girlfriend had a stillborn (he says it was a miscarriage but at 24 weeks and after it’s a stillborn. his girlfriend was 25 weeks). the post itself isn’t the problem (well it is but the lesser problem), the problem is all the comments who a struggle to offer a crumb of compassion to this poor girl who was forced to deliver a dead baby who she loved. 90% of the comments were accusing her of being stupid to want a child at 18, accusing her of cheater and/or tampering with condoms or just blatantly saying she was never pregnant. HUH?!??!????!!!?? this poor girl is being ripped to shreds by absolute strangers and discussed on the internet by her boyfriend (who btw is making this post because he doesn’t know how to break up with her) while she is grieving a loss that many cannot even imagine. i hate the internet. i am crying real tears for this girl and i pray that she’s able to find some semblance of peace.

[whisperingrockers]

would u. i dunno. perhaps articulate some thots on toh infinity train au 😳 if u can

HM. i will do my best. but...i dont really know how to organize my thoughts.  i guess i should probably just start with the characters and go from there, huh. also in this particular au these characters don’t actually take the place of tulip, lake, jesse, grace, etc- i think they’re all just there under different circumstances. 

Luz

okay so we’ll start with Luz because. she’s the main character, y’know. very important. i think the catalyst that brings her to the train is her mother signing her up for Reality Check summer camp because as a creative it’s just! disheartening to have someone you love tell you that you’re not going to make it in this world if you don’t conform to what everyone else wants. so of course when a huge mysterious locomotive suddenly pulls up to the bus stop you KNOW luz gets on, no hesitation. after all, isn’t that something right out of a sci-fi adventure novel? 

unlike tulip, luz is THRILLED to find herself on some unknowable train where each car is a new adventure just waiting to happen, where there are always new friends to make, new places to see, and tons of puzzles to solve? she’s made to feel like the protagonist right out one of her fave animes. 

also, really important to note that her number is probably tied to how she relates to the other passengers on the train. i feel like there’s an overarching theme in the show about how luz is going through a lot of firsts when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially friendships, so i wanted to keep that going in this au- i imagine her number goes up when she finds her friends tapes and convinces them to watch with her because this is obviously the easiest and most straightforward way to get to know them! (luz poppin that bad boy into a vcr player: this mama is ready for trauma!) 

realized how wordy this is going to be LOL

Eda

hough so this is a human au also (i assume? infinity train world really do be existing in some limbo state of reality where your reflection can just up and ditch you). i see her as a jack of all trades, master of none type, with a lean towards perfumes and handmade soaps that she sells at fairs or farmers markets and also pickpocketing. i think she sees something that reminds her of the life she used to have/would have had before lilith [redacted because i do not know what she DID yet but on GOD we will have canon continuity] and that drives her to get on the next train headed anywhere.

her number is tied to how much she allows herself to open up; the more she uses her salesman cover to keep others at arms length, the higher her number goes, which is why it’s so important for her to team up with King and Luz; they help her open up and be more honest with herself.  

King

king is actually a denizen of the train in this au; i love him too much to turn him into a real ass dog, so i wont. eda meets him in a car full of plush toys, which he refers to lovingly as his army of the damned. i almost want to hold off on writing up any more for him because i know there’s more to king’s character than meets the eye. still torn between eda trying to bring him off the train with her or having him realize that the whole TRAIN is HIS KINGDOM, and all its passengers loyal peons who need their mighty rulers HELP, for without him they would PERISH.

for now though eda sees him and is immediately like get over here (reaching emoji) 

Willow 

willow is a tough one for me because in all honesty having your longtime friend tell you out of the blue that they can’t be friends with you anymore would be enough to send me packing to the train, but with willow i think it’s less about amity and more about how the fallout between them affects her social and academic success. the frustration reaches a tipping point that has her running out of the classroom and finding the train. 

and yes, willow is a very sensible, bright girl, but she was also SO ready to trick the principle and steal from the emperor for her friend so i don’t think getting on a mystery train is wholly out of the question for her, y’know? 

There’s a lot about repression in the way willow deals with things generally, so her number is tied to passivity. the more she allows others to infringe on her personal boundaries to keep them placated, the higher her number goes. when she stands up for herself to others (sometimes even her friends!) the number goes up. willow x agency and clear limitations is my otp

Gus

gus was actually a SUPER easy one for me we know so much about him from the episodes he’s been in; he’s an overachiever, he’s passionate about what he loves, he’s a natural showman, and he is constantly pushing himself to be the best that he can be, all the time. the hustle doesn’t STOP for gus, and i...i...(tears up) 

anyways, i think the thing that draws him to the train is getting suddenly ousted from the club he formed at school. he’s young, and having everyone you had assumed were your friends turn their back on you and throw you out of the space that you CREATED FOR THEM would be shocking to anyone, but it broke gus’ heart clean in two. after he’d picked his bag and himself up off the hallway floor, he’d left the building in a daze, not even realizing as he boarded the train door that had suddenly opened up in front of him until it was too late. 

i’m actually going to go so far as to say that gus would likely be the one MOST interested in the truth of the train- he’d be asking the tough questions, like what is the purpose of the train? who made it and its technology? where does it exist that it can be both at his school and also speeding across a barren desert landscape at the same time? How does it create sentient lifeforms? the train helps him discover a new passion; journalism. he finds a journal that speaks to him as a friend and advisor in one of the trains, and he takes careful note of everything that happens to and around him. by the time he meets up with willow, he’s got so many ideas and theories that the other girl would have never thought to consider until that very moment. 

idk what his number relates to because he’s perfect the way he is but if i had to take a shot in the dark it probably has something to do with finding somewhere he feels he can belong, as well as being able to mourn and let go of the people he’d considered his friends before he’d gotten on the train. 

sorry this is so long i just have a lot of . gus feelings. 

Amity ( + Edric + Emira )

lumping these whites together 

okay so nobody wants to hear me talk about blight angst there are 800 posts about blight angst, so long story short the three siblings run away, get into an argument with each other, amity ditches them for the train while they’re asleep, and the twins panic and chase after her, determined to find her because in the end they’re all they’ve got. 

‘next stop: amity blight’ 

i think it’d be a cool journey to see the three of them going from ‘we need to be together out of necessity’ to ‘we need to be together because we love each other, and that genuine support structure will pull us through when everything else fails.’ but in order for that to happen they all have to have their own journey, so at some point edric and emira finally get into a spat and that’s enough to get edric and emira stuck on opposite ends of a retracting bridge. send that mans to the BACK of the train. 

emira: my greatest fear is being stuck with edric forever emira: (gets separated from edric)  emira: haha wait please say psyche

amity’s number is definitely tied to her fear of failure, of not being enough for the people she holds closest to her- in this case her siblings, and then lilith, and then luz when they finally meet. when she acts without concern for what the people around her think and when she sticks up for what she knows is right, even when the majority is against her, her number goes down. 

for ed and em im...i don’t want to think about their feelings because they’re supposed to be clowns but i am forced to consider that they may be jealous of their sisters independence. also separating them means they both have to take responsibility for all their own actions and choices, which is probably pretty new for the twins. 

Lilith 

im out of energy actually znzzzsnsz uh. estranged sister who sees something that reminds her of the relationship she used to have and she’s not actually as over it as she thought so the train....she..hghrg

[silver-wield]

Cloud had every opportunity to validate his relationship between he and Tifa. He doesn’t tell aerith who he gave the flower to and when aerith asks if tifa is his girlfriend he’s quick to say no and when she says “she’s something special, right?” And he says “it’s not like that” that doesn’t sound like someone who’s in love... yet when Tifa questions the relationship he has with aerith, he can’t even answer... As a cloti fan I don’t think I can shobghis anymore... 😔

Ok, let’s breakdown how Cloud’s behaviour works again. 

Not that some people understand that having mental illness and crafting a false persona to protect their own psyche means they do things that are contradictory to their own true feelings at times. They seem to think SOLDIER Cloud is another way of saying “He’S jUsT zAcK”. Which isn’t that at all and they need to stop purposely misunderstanding the point.

SPOILERS FOR CLOUD’S ENTIRE BACKSTORY. 

Cloud: introverted, socially awkward, no father figure, low self-esteem, lives in a very small town with little culture and few kids his age. Of those kids, the majority don’t like him because they’re assholes (yeah I said it).

Tifa: childhood friend and crush, who isn’t an asshole to him because she’s a literal fucking sweetheart (don’t even try and @ me). Shy, reserved, polite, kind, also can be reckless af.

Age 8, Tifa’s mother dies and she gets it into her head that she can go visit her at the top of mt Nibel because that’s where she gets the impression the lifestream touches the planet.

Cloud (9), follows her and her friends up the mountain and stays with her as they chicken out. He and Tifa have an accident, which results in Tifa being unconscious for 7 days. During that time she’s unconscious (but yknow some ppl say she should’ve still cleared up the misunderstanding WHILE UNCONSCIOUS, despite never learning of it even after she woke up), her friends throw Cloud under the bus to her father as the reason why she went there. Tifa’s father puts all the blame for it on him (douchebag move, but he’s an upset parent who’s just lost his wife and now doesn’t know if his daughter will live or die. I’m not excusing him, but he’s got reasons other than “let’s victimise Cloud”.) Tifa’s father tells Cloud that if he isn’t capable of protecting her then he should keep his distance.

Cloud resolves to become stronger and thanks to Stamp propaganda and Sephiroth hero worship he decides to become a SOLDIER.

Tifa never says anything about this being what she wants. She likes Cloud just as he is.

Skip forward a few years and Cloud’s 14, has kept his word not to hang out with Tifa, not that it stops her wanting his attention.

The promise scene occurs, where Cloud tries to get Tifa to admit she likes him and Tifa gets Cloud to promise to return to town just once so she can see him again (because these idiots have no idea they mutually like each other in a romantic sense).

Skip forward another 2 years.

Cloud (16) isn’t a SOLDIER, but he’s got to go to Nibelheim with Zack and Sephiroth. He hides from Tifa, ashamed that he isn’t the man he promised he’d become.

Tifa (15) who’s massively disappointed Cloud wasn’t with them, ends up seriously injured by Sephiroth after he loses his marbles. 

Cloud appears and saves her, killing Sephiroth. 

Zangan takes Tifa away from Nibelheim - and good thing too or she’d have ended up a test subject with the others.

Cloud and Zack are stuffed in chambers to be experimented on.

4 years go by and Zack saves Cloud who’s suffering mako poisoning. They make it to Midgar, which takes around a year, where Zack then dies, leaving his sword to Cloud. 

Cloud still suffering from mako poisoning and now also with PTSD and all his other previous issues, shambles into Midgar where Tifa finds him.

Here’s the bit people like to misunderstand.

Cloud is infected with Jenova cells, which warp his perception and make him susceptible to Sephiroth’s control. (This is proven by a moment at the end of the game where Cloud’s hand twitches in response to Sephiroth asking for his help)

Zack told Cloud a lot of stories, both before he was poisoned and after. These combined with Jenova’s mind warping, the mako poisoning itself and Cloud’s own severe trauma allowed him to craft a false persona for himself, which he needed to protect his real psyche from a further mental breakdown.

Cloud is a mentally ill protagonist.

Cloud uses the SOLDIER persona he’s crafted as a shield to function in daily life. He’s unaware of what he’s done. He believes SOLDIER!Cloud is the only psyche. We get to see real!Cloud on screen at the beginning of Chapter 8 asking SOLDIER!Cloud if he’s ok. Real!Cloud specifically refers to the childhood event on mt Nibel with Tifa where he “got away with scraped knees”. SOLDIER!Cloud doesn’t know what he’s talking about because it’s a real!Cloud memory and not one he’s privy to. Any time SOLDIER!Cloud tries reconnecting to his true self he ends up in pain. He’s not ready to be whole yet.

Behind the shield is an emotionally stunted, very ill man who spent four years as a lab rat, suffered countless traumas, witnessed his home burned and saw the girl he loved stabbed. The real Cloud is a weak, flawed human being who isn’t in a good enough head space to function, let alone do all the things that’s needed of him during events in the game.

Cloud doesn’t think he’s Zack. The only time that argument can even be used is in a 23 year old game that has clear script problems all over the place. That information is outdated and been debunked several times over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now, onto the points you raised.

Cloud cannot connect his real persona and the feelings he has for Tifa with this false persona he has. The SOLDIER persona acts as both a shield and a wall preventing things from affecting the real!Cloud behind it. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why Cloud can’t articulate his feelings for Tifa. It’s not because he doesn’t feel anything for her, it’s because he can’t connect to those feelings until after he’s reunited the fractured parts of his psyche -- which only happens because of Tifa during the lifestream sequence. It’s then he’s able to get back in touch with those feelings and express them. It’s not because they don’t exist. He never, at any point, in 7R says he doesn’t have feelings for Tifa. He says she’s not his girlfriend - fact, she isn’t. He says in response to Aerith asking “she’s someone special” that “it’s not like that” but then gets cut off, like every other point in the game where he’s about to try and explain his feelings. He doesn’t know how he feels because those feelings belong to real!Cloud and not SOLDIER!Cloud. We get a clear view of how Real!Cloud feels about Tifa during the plate fall. At several points, the urge to comfort Tifa is seen. That’s not SOLDIER!Cloud’s urge, it’s real!Cloud’s. When he sees her crying during Jessie’s cut scene, when he sees her on her knees at the top of the plate, when his hand twitches as Barret hugs her. All of these are canon non-optional moments that build a picture of real!Cloud wanting to express his feelings to Tifa, but not being able to. The resolution is the culmination of those feelings. He takes his time hugging her back because the SOLDIER persona is trying to protect him still, but the real!Cloud breaks through long enough to hug her. And he does so hard because he needs comfort. He’s gone through so much that he’s broken inside. That’s why he hugs her until it hurts. Because he hurts. 

His response to Tifa’s question about Aerith isn't shipping. Tifa’s first words when she wakes are an urgent affirmation to get home and save the slum. Cloud agrees. She then asks Cloud how he knows Aerith, after expressing concern she'll get hurt by going with them. Tifa and Cloud are eco terrorists and as far as she knows Aerith is a normal girl. Nobody would want a civilian dragged into danger. And Cloud has been in Midgar for four days and spent most of them with Avalanche and Tifa. She's curious how they're friends because she knows Cloud isn't a people person. Cloud explains Aerith saved him, but when? It's clearer in the JP because the phrasing is that Cloud was in the kind of danger that worries Tifa. She wants to know what kind of danger Cloud would get into that he couldn't handle. Well he's not talking physical danger. He's talking about how Aerith helped him save Tifa. Because that's the kind of dork he is. He's referring to the phrase Aerith said to Sam about making sure Cloud wouldn't have to live without Tifa. That's what he means by her saving his life. Because he can't live without Tifa. So, it's obvious why that's not made a bigger deal of in disc one.

He doesn’t tell Aerith who he gave the flower to because it’s none of her goddamn business. She’s a stranger being nosy. He’s got no obligation to tell her what he did with it. If someone you met twice start sticking their nose in your personal business you’d be cagey too. That’s a meaningless moment that certain people cling to because they’re idiots.

Sorry, this got long. Hope it clears a few things up though. I probably missed a few details here and there.

TLDR: Cloud has mental illness and isn’t capable of love due to a fractured psyche, so can’t answer anyone when they ask.

[souvercine]

hey y’all ! i’m jia and i’m super excited for opening; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk !

tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but xan’s basic stats and a proper wc page will be up soon as i just got home from grocery shopping and we open in an hour as of typing this, the theme as a whole will get a refresh eventually and i’ll be posting a little tracklist for her playlist later ! and if tumblr ims are as much of a nuisance for you as they can be for me, you can add me on d*scord at genuinely sick of this shit#2030 if you’d like to plot ! anyways, without further ado:

( samantha logan , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . xanthe lowe ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ when they go high, she goes lowe ! xan spotted leaving a gala with her former friend’s ex, after last week’s reportedly tense exchange between the girls ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently merciless and imperious . but i’ve heard they’re also conspicuous and astute ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous socialite ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that redacted , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan !

tw: drug mention

when i tell you that i have so many muse posts i’m holding back on for this bitch —

which, btw, will all slowly see the light of day soon enough bc god knows i can’t articulate my muses’ personalities as well as i’d like so that shit makes up for it fdgslk

her parents’ eldest child together, xanthe’s also the oldest out of her and her siblings

also, never call her xanthe. friend or otherwise, don’t take the risk dklgsjdlk

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant and her mother being an entrepreneur with a love for art ( so much so that her two partners after separating from xan’s dad were artists themselves sdlkgj )

thus she split her time between toronto and manhattan even before her parents’ divorce, she merely spent more time jetting back and forth for special occasions and vacations compared to when her parents were still together

mind you, she was probably still in the single digits when that became a new normal for the brat

basically could’ve been a main character on gossip girl with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even sgdlkf

drk how to elaborate on that, aside from stressing that from her teen years onward she’s presented her own take of a rich bitch, and is a socialite/fashion week regular type if i were to describe where she stands rn

i think a good mix of references would be nicky hilton meets the delevingne sisters meets blair waldorf and sabrina pemberton’s lovechild

she attended an ivy league at the behest of her father so he had at least one child who could take a senior position in his company simply to keep it in the family

.. before he realized what a Mistake™ it would be to put that responsibility on xan and now has her slightly older cousin as a backup instead GDSLFJKS but nonetheless !

isn’t the most studious person, but she somehow wound up graduating with a major in communications and a marketing minor

she reasoned that, with her reputation in the gta and nyc, she’d need the bit of knowledge in how to clean up her messes. even if she wasn’t the one who had that responsibility

though.. the entire time has been spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

as of now, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties wherever she might be at a given time, staying in the good graces of the media as a budding, fun yet classy heiress — despite doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club

uhhh ik i had something else to add but a quick break for dinner messed that up, rip LKGFSJD

personality and shit

her little blurb on my indie is: refined party girl still set in her ways with her future left uncompromised; detached and pretentious, she soaks up the attention that continues to roll in

which. we’ve basically been over already lkdfsg but still

if i were to use a label to describe her, she’d be the sovereign

she’s messy as hell, but puts on the façade of a poised woman who has some fun because she knows it bodes well

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful

big superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

probably jets back and forth between nyc and the gta as it’s her version of normal, so ig she hates the environment if it means not having things go her way !

non-committal as all hell and will abandon girl code if she drops you fgkljfs

.. fr, she’ll fuck an ex-friend’s ex if she technically saw them first, so being spiteful and resolving some past attraction ?? right up her alley !

hence the choice of headline gdfslkj

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect her image and won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus to do so/in retaliation if they screw her over

which happens to mean that her family is to be protected as well. fuck with any of her sisters ?? you’re done ! try to call out one of her brothers on twitter ? she’ll quote it with a single clown emoji as a warning

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away ksfdg )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two that she made in either of her main hubs or through events she attended when she was young, whether they’re still friends or not for x reasons can be discussed of course

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made in the last few years

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

it should go without saying that they are all relatively wealthy or well-connected kids here, but that doesn’t mean that someone who’s using her for their fifteen seconds of fame, or just to get some perks out of their friendship, is necessarily a write-off — not that she cares too much about fake friends, face value hype and knowing they need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since age two, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

[souvercines]

hey y’all ! i’m kat and i’m super hyped to ( soft ) open sdgljkds my blog is clearly a work in progress — love having my laptop slow down on me for two days straight — but bear with me for the time being ! i’ll have stats up for both caro and renée eventually and i’ll be sure to make it known; but for now, let me get these messy intros over with, with the nuisance herself coming up first:

✰ ––– adria arjona. cis female. she/her // you don’t know ? that’s CAROLINA “CARO” BAEZ ! they’re a TWENTY-SEVEN year old socialite from MANHATTAN, NEW YORK. as part of manhattan’s elite, the sovereign is known to be ALLURING & DARWINIAN. most people recognize them by treating walks of shame like a runway, 3am parties in a penthouse, lux lavender baths with a glass of prosecco and city views, a bite as big as her bark, bongs and empty bottles on the living room floor. ( kat, 22, nt, she/her )

tw: drug mention

when i tell you that i have so many muse posts i’m holding back on for this bitch —

which, btw, will all slowly see the light of day soon enough bc god knows i can’t articulate my muses’ personalities as well as i’d like so that shit makes up for it FDGSLK

her parents’ only child together, caro’s the oldest out of her and her half-siblings

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant and her mother being an entrepreneur with a love for art ( so much so that her two partners after separating from caro’s dad were artists themselves sdlkgj )

basically could’ve been a main character on gossip girl with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even sgdlkf

drk how to elaborate on that, aside from stressing that from her teen years onward she’s presented her own take of a rich bitch, and is a socialite/fashion week regular type if i were to describe where she stands rn

attended an ivy league school at the behest of her father so he had at least one child who could take a senior position in his company simply to keep it in the family

though she doesn’t have to worry about that as of yet, if ever, with her brother being better poised to do so

wasn’t the most studious person, but she’d pulled it off enough to major in communications with a marketing minor

she reasoned that, with her reputation in nyc, she’d need the bit of knowledge in how to clean up her messes. even if she wasn’t the one who had that responsibility

though.. the entire time had been spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional one-time hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

it’s been a few years since, and now she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties, jetsetting whenever she pleases and staying in the good graces of the media as a budding, fun yet classy heiress — despite doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club

personality and extras

her little blurb on my indie is: refined party girl still set in her ways with her future left uncompromised; detached and pretentious, she soaks up the attention that continues to roll in

which. we’ve basically been over already lkdfsg but still

she’s messy as hell, but puts on the façade of a poised woman who has some fun because she knows it bodes well

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful

Big superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

non-committal as all hell and will abandon girl code if she drops you fgkljfs

.. fr, she’ll fuck an ex-friend’s ex if she technically saw them first, so being spiteful and resolving some past attraction ?? right up her alley !

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect her image and won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus to do so/in retaliation if they screw her over

which happens to mean that her family is to be protected as well. fuck with any of her sisters ?? you’re done. try to compete with her father ? she’ll leak your suspicious investment history to the times fskgdljlsf

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away ksfdg )

some wcs/plot ideas

a childhood friend or two, whether they’re still friends or not for x reasons can be discussed of course

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made over the years

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

the majority ( if not all ) are relatively wealthy people, but that doesn’t mean that someone who’s using her for their fifteen seconds of fame, or just to get some perks out of their friendship, is necessarily a write-off — not that she cares too much about fake friends, face value hype and knowing they need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since age two, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

kinda relates to current hookups, but her designated event pal would be super fun ?? sdgkflj like they go to all of these big parties and galas together, then meet up in the nooks of the venue or head back to her place before she throws an after-party of sorts. they’d be decent friends beyond this though, them being someone she trusts a good bit compared to others in her circle

[the-st0ryofagirl]

Bye Bye Virginity

You came and marched right towards me, your blue eyes stormy, looked right into mine. You were on a mission, and I was the only way you could accomplish it. 7 years. I’ve waited 7 years to feel your lips on mine, and you didn’t just let me feel them, you made them yours. Your hands, all over me. Up my shirt, down my back, tangled in my hair. I wanted to slow down, it was all so fast, you work fast though, and I guess I didn’t mind too much.

I hadn’t done this with anyone in so long, but boy is muscle memory a thing. One second I was struggling to keep on my toes to keep making out with you, the next second we’re on the bed, you’re pulling me on top. We had places to be, but GOD I wanted you. And well, I’m kind of a little hoe when it comes to sucking dick, I kind of love it. So that’s what I did! On my roommate’s bed, sorry B...it was so exciting, and liberating! I hadn’t touched a guy in over a year, I was a little rusty, but I definitely still hold onto my record time of getting someone off in under 3 minutes...exciting stuff! 

After a great night of drinking and dancing and excessive socializing, I was ready to go home and sleep. I was having trouble reading you all night though. You’re quiet, except when you’re not. And you speak your mind, insightfully and not excessively. I’m usually really fucking good at reading people, but you’re so damn hard to read, I had no idea what was on your mind the whole entire night. Were you into me? Were you having fun? You kept saying you were having a good time, you kept saying that you loved the vibes of the people here, but I’m so insecure and I need constant reassurance all the time, I’m sorry ok? 

Well I guess I got all the reassurance I needed from you when we got back though. On the bus we cuddled and you made me feel you through your pants, you were so hard for me. I guess I didn’t know what to expect from you when we got back to my apartment. I thought we’d just sleep. Maybe make-out a little, cuddle, and then fall asleep. NOPE. Well, we cuddled and made out yeah...but, I also lost my virginity. I know, crazy right? And it was to someone I never thought I’d lose my virginity to...A FREAKING C. He’s so damn hot, so experienced too, it kind of threw me off sometimes. 

Anyways yeah, one minute we were making out on my bed and the second he’s on top of me, clothes are just flying off each other with such a need, it’s extremely hot. He’s on top of me and we’re kissing and all of a sudden he’s going down on me, and I mean full on licking me EVERYWHERE DOWN THERE. His tongue is all around and inside me, at first it felt strange and I was sort of embarrassed and then I kind of started getting into it. But I feel like as soon as he had found my clit it was over far too soon. He came back up to kiss and next thing I knew he was at my entrance pushing in...which totally freaked me the fuck out. Not only was it my first time but uhm, boy where is your condom?! So I called him out and he wanted to do pull out, and I know my momma had taught me better than that, so I told him to find a condom or it wasn't happening. It was kind of sweet actually, he didn’t have any because he’d left them in the car, meaning he didn’t expect to have sex either otherwise he would have brought them down...right? Anyways, I told him to go look in my roommate’s box where she kept her condoms and he slid it on and then positioned himself on top of me again. I was ready, I’ve been ready, but that doesn’t mean I still wasn’t nervous. I told him to go slow as I gripped his biceps when I felt him enter me, he told me it was okay, over and over again. His words were like a breathless caress, eventually matching his strokes. 

At first I just lay there, reminding him to go slow and his body seemed to naturally speed up. The pressure of him inside me did hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as I thought, and I could feel the pain being relieved the more and more he entered me. Eventually I was meeting his strokes halfway by bringing my hips up. He pulled out, moaning and both of us breathing heavy, he turned me onto my stomach and pulled my ass up. I made sure to arch my back and nothing turned me on more than him sliding into me and saying “oh my god, you’re so wet” and sliding his hands down my hair, my back, on my ass as he slid in and out of me. I easily met his strokes once again. All too soon, he shifts and puts his legs on the outside of mine and brings mine together so I’m laying completely under him, ass still in the air he’s breathing harder now. “I’m gonna come”, and me being an anxious to a T tell him to pull out just in case. He did, no questions asked thankfully. 

Now I know I’m new to this, but I wanted to go again, that wasn’t nearly enough time for me to actually really enjoy it, I was just getting there. He’s definitely broken me in that’s for sure, but I was too shy to ask to go again..and I also didn’t want to make him feel embarrassed because I didn’t know what his refraction period was for him. After that it was kind of a blur, we put our clothes back on, went pee, and then tried to go to sleep, we even cuddled! After a couple minutes though he announced, pretty frustrated, that he was going to leave. I was pretty bummed, and it kind of made me feel pretty stupid, I thought perhaps I did something wrong, after all when we were cuddling he told me my knee was on his nuts... But he genuinely seemed upset and he kept saying that this was a constant problem fro him, not being able to sleep anywhere but his own bed, he didn’t say sorry, but he kept trying to explain himself to me and I understood. In fact it was sort of stressing me out how stressed out he was. He angrily threw his clothes in his bag and I offered to smoke with him so he could de-stress. 

He agreed and while he packed his joint we had really deep conversations. It made me realize how beautiful and complicated his mind was. He was observant, and he was aware that other people treated him differently because of how he looked and he didn't like it. We talked about his past experience in college and how badly he fucked up, how much his family meant to him, how much he’d matured over the years. I loved hearing him talk. I’m not very good at talking, I’m much better at writing my feelings out on paper. It takes me a lot longer to articulate what I want to say and he just spoke so freely and it made sense. Every time I tried to throw my 2 cents into the conversation I felt like what I was saying was stupid, and did not at all convey what I really wanted to say to him at all. But he didn’t seem to mind.

We walked to his car and smoked and talked some more, the night dragging on as we took more and more hits of his joint. Eventually, the joint ran out and he put the car in drive. At the stop sign where I was supposed to get off we said our goodbyes and he thanked me for such a great and amazing night. He said he had a lot of fun and he was really glad he came down. I smiled and nodded and just looked at him, my hand wavering close to the door handle, unsure of what to do next. He then leaned in closer to me as he stared into my eyes and I met him, halfway. The hottest and sweetest goodbye kiss I’ve ever received, let me tell you. 

Leaving, he yelled after me that he’d text me tomorrow and he then drove away into the night as I walked back to my apartment. 

--------

It’s been 4 days since I’ve seen him, he did end up texting me the following day, I felt super anxious to text him, but I’m super happy that he kept his word and he did text me in the morning. I sort of didn't expect him to, but he does surprise me often. I apologized for not being the most sexy being on earth and if I at all was weird at any time and he said “no no no it was amazing seriously ;)”. 

He makes me so nervous to talk to him, I haven’t stopped thinking about him and it makes me so mad because I’m probably the very last thing on his mind. He’s so damn out of my league, and it’s not just because he’s AC, an extremely hot sex god, but because I’m attracted to the way that he thinks. He’s so unpredictable, and he says such real things. He’s got such a beautiful mind and I find that so amazing. He doesn’t care about what other people think, he speaks for himself. Everyone here in SC has kind of the same way of acting, everyone is so predictable and the University has kind of formed us into one way of thinking instead of being individual thinkers.

It’s kind of funny because he said how much of a breath of fresh air you were able to get up here, but honestly, he was the breath of fresh air to me. 

I know better than to expect more from him. But I can’t help myself. He’s my first, and he is someone who I have had a little bit of history with, even if it was a long time ago, he knows who I am. I want to see him again, and we’ve made plans to do so in the future, which is exciting. But I just want someone to call mine, I have so much loving inside of me I’m so ready to just give it all to someone, to bear my heart and have it be accepted and even reciprocated. He’ll hurt me, I know that. But I don’t care. I’m so tired of caring. So damn tired. And I like him, I truly do. 

[mhalachai]

For the DVD commentary bit, if it's not too late- I'm on mobile, so I'm not quite sure where to cut the 500 words, but the School Boy bit when James says 'You know I never...Dated' made me think of the bit from Midnight Blue, when James tells Steve that he hasn't been w/ anyone since That Guy. I've always been curious, does Steve really get that most of their firsts are really *firsts*, like James never actually had consensual sex? Basically, Steve's feelings/view on physical relationship stuff

so I have a lot to say about this apparently, so let’s start out with the relevant text from Hands of Clay:

Just for a moment, James wished Steve wasn’t so Steve. Of course Steve would want to be open about this. His life had been so very different from James’, that James didn’t know if he could explain himself.

He took a deep breath. He had to try, because he was in love with Steve, every infuriating inch of him.

“I ain’t ever done this before,” James said, lowering his voice under the din of the coffee shop. “So just… bear with me, okay?”

“Done what?” Steve asked, bending back in to speak at the same level. “Dated while parenting?”

“Dated.” James spread his hand flat on the table. He wanted to look away from Steve, but this was too important. “Can we just take this slow?”

A momentary confusion crossed Steve’s face, then comprehension and awareness. He put his hand over his mouth for a moment. “Never?”

James curled his hand into a fist. “Only once in high school, and I think we can both agree that it don’t count.”

Steve bit his lip. There was a new expression on his face: anger. “I’m sorry.”

James used his clenched hand to knock lightly at Steve’s arm. “Shut up,” he said, without any real heat. “I don’t want to talk about that now, okay?”

“I get it.” Steve reached out to fiddle with his empty cup. “Yeah, of course we can go slow. Whatever you need, anything you need. Just tell me.”

Chapter 22: Midnight Blue

and

After an eternity, Steve rolled onto his back. He smiled up at James. “I’ve got some lube and condoms and stuff in my bag.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Good,” he said. “Same.”

“You do?” Steve lay still as James reached over him into the little drawer in the bedside table. “You got a brand you like?”

“Maybe.” James slapped the condom box onto the table, and sat back holding the little bottle of lube. “Shit.” He’d half hoped he could fake his way through this, but of course he couldn’t. “I, uh… I never done this before.”

Steve propped himself up on his elbows. “What is it?” he asked, but softly.

James stared at the bottle of lube. “Just…” God, why was this so hard to say? “You know I never…. Dated.”

“Yeah.”

“I also never been…” Jesus Christ, he could feel his face going red. He was a thirty-two-year-old Ranger veteran, and here he was blushing like some Victorian spinster. “Whatever you want to call it. On top.”

“Oh.” Steve sat up. He gently reached for James’ hand. “Do you want to be?”

James took a steadying breath, and lifted his gaze. He needed to be looking at Steve for this. “Yeah,” he said. “I really do. If you want that.”

Steve took the lube from James and put it on the bed, then lifted James’ hand and kissed his fingers. It should have been weird, but it wasn’t. “I want that a whole lot.”

Chapter 30: School Boy

Okay let’s go.

So in all of this, Steve is also going off what he’s seen in Bucky’s physical reactions and what Bucky isn’t saying, as much as what Bucky is saying. We’ve heard what Bucky says, but Steve also knows that the mere mention of That Guy can send Bucky into a tailspin - and nothing else Steve has ever seen has done that to Bucky. Not talking about the explosion that lost Bucky his arm, nothing about his father (who was a sonofabitch in Steve’s eyes), nothing at all. At the very worst, when something comes up that Bucky doesn’t want to talk about, he’ll just change the subject.

So when Steve sees Bucky go into fight or flight mode, where he can’t even drive, when he physically falls apart as soon as the kids are out of the way, he knows shit was bad. (as in chapter 12: Générique)

(Also, and sidebar: I mentioned a bit about this in the notes to chapter 26, but neither trauma not healing are linear or fit nicely into discrete chunks. Our brains can’t unravel things that happen in and around the same time; in an attempt to keep us safe, things can get bundled up. Example, if I got punched on a bus and then later couldn’t get on a bus without having a panic attack, it’s not about the bus; it’s my brain large-slicing all available information and trying to keep that from happening again.)

(I bring that up as all of the things that happened around Bucky trying to get away from That Guy, having his father throw him out with no jacket and no shoes and no support, then his father dying without ever talking to Bucky again and his mother de facto refusing to acknowledge any of what Bucky went through. All of that happening in the space of a couple weeks in Bucky’s formative years; that’s what layered everything into a spiral of trauma and shame for Bucky.)

So, back to Steve: badly timed drunken kiss at the beach aside (which Steve feels really bad about in retrospect), Steve’s determined to always let Bucky take the lead on their physical interactions. He lets Bucky initiate their first real kiss, he lets Bucky go in for the hugs, he waits for Bucky to make the first move before any big cuddles etc. He also asks Bucky before making moves, and when Bucky’s even a tiny bit hesitant, Steve stops what he’s doing to check in.

Also keep in mind that as of the latest chapter, their romantic/physical relationship is still really new, not even a month old yet. Steve wants Bucky to feel comfortable with what they’re doing, and to want to be with Steve, but he also wants to be open with Bucky about what he (Steve) wants in bed - somewhere along the way Steve decided that the best thing he can offer Bucky (in addition to loving him with his whole heart), is full and complete honesty.

So going back to “firsts” - yes, Steve gets that for Bucky, a lot of what they’re doing is a literal first, and for those things that Bucky has done before physically, what is between Steve and Bucky is emotionally a first.

The one things I don’t think Steve (or Bucky) have fully realized yet is that their relationship is the first time Bucky’s had the full and unconditional love and support of another human being. His childhood had conditions. His time in the Rangers (ages 19-27) was a time of loose friendships as he hid a large part of himself. And Natasha loves her father with all of her little heart, but Bucky is the parent/caregiver and he’s responsible for her health and safety and it’s a lot of work.

But Bucky and Steve - they can stand together, support each other, step up when the other needs help, and balance the load. They’re not just best friends, they’re not just in love; they’re building a life together (though they hadn’t exactly articulated that to each other or themselves quite yet) and that needs a firm bedrock of support and trust.

[DVD Commentary Me]

[elizabethsharmon]

One down, five to go

Skam Month: week three, day five (fredag) ⇾ free choice

↳ When Yousef and Sana's first baby is born, he decides to take things in his hands. But his actions may have some unexpected effects... 

Read on AO3

“Dude, what are you doing here?” Elias stormed at Yousef once he went out of the room. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“Yousef, is everything alright?” Mr. Bakkoush asked approaching them.

“Yousef, man, what’s going on?” Elias kept on asking but Yousef just stared blankly at them.

Finally he said:

“She kicked me out.”

“What???” Elias asked confused.

“She kicked me out.” Yousef repeated. “She said that it’s all my fault and that she hates me and I don’t want her to hate me, I love her, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I mean not the thing, she is not a thing, she is a person, but she’s the best and I love her but she said that she doesn’t want me there and that I did it to her and she doesn’t want to see me and…” he said everything in one breath and he would probably keep on rambling if Mr. Bakkoush hadn’t put his hand on Yousef’s arm.

“Son” he said. “Everything is okay. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just going through a lot right now. So just get yourself together and go back in, okay?”

He could hear his friends standing nearby and silently laughing, clearly amused by the whole situation. He also noticed that his parents and Sana’s friends have just arrived and were going in their direction. But Yousef was just standing there completely numb, shifting his look from Mr. Bakkoush and Elias, still very confused and worried, still not sure what to do.

“Okay” he finally said. “I’m going in.”

“Yeah, bro, do that.” Elias encouraged him and patted him on the back.

Yousef took one final look at all of them and went back to the room.

Before he shut the door, they could all hear Sana screaming “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???” from inside.

                                                    ***

He came back to the hallway after 3 hours. Completely exhausted, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his t-shirt stuck to his body, he leaned against the wall as everyone surrounded him, waiting with anticipation for him to say anything.

“It’s a girl.”

Everyone started cheering, hugging him and saying “congratulations!”. Elias then shouted “I’m an uncle!” and he and the rest of the boys started fighting with him that they’re her uncles, too, but Elias told them that he is the only real uncle. His parents, his father-in-law and the girls wanted to know all the details, how does she look (she looks perfect), did she take after him or after Sana (definitely after Sana, thank God), how much does she weight (2.9 kg), how tall is she (53 cm), what was her Apgar score (10/10) and other things. When they finally stopped nagging him with all these questions and left him enough space to finally breathe, he has just slid down and sat on the floor.

He was a father now.

                                                    ***

Yousef and Elias had to barricade the entrance to Sana’s room because the boys insisted on seeing the “Ballon Squad’s First Baby” (as they’ve already named her). After Mr. Bakkoush and Sana’s doctor told them that they should give the mother and the baby some time to rest, they’ve finally let go and left with the girls (although they said they’ll definitely come back the next day and this time they will go inside no matter what), while Bakkoushs and Acars went in to see the new addition to their families.

                                                    ***

After their daughter finally fell asleep, Sana kicked Yousef out and told him to go home and get some rest. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay with them forever, but Sana insisted that it’s already 2 a.m. and he doesn’t need to be here watching them sleep (Yousef had a different opinion about that, so to speak), but she will need him here in the morning, fresh and rested, so he finally let go, kissed the two women of his life on the forehead and went home.

He took a cold shower and went to bed. But he couldn’t fall asleep, not after such an eventful day. He couldn’t really believe that she was finally here, the past 9 months were the longest – but also the most happiest – months of his life. It seemed like it was only yesterday when Sana told him she is pregnant.

They went out to eat something with their friends and Sana was acting very strange that evening. After the dinner they all wanted to go bowling or go to the cinema but Sana was very moody and started telling them that she does not wish to support the American culture spread to Norway by seeing their clichéd films nor she wants to go and wear some smelly shoes after another person to just throw a stupid ball and pretend that she’s having “fun” and that she had enough of the “fun” for this evening (and she really did insert quotation marks when she was saying this) and that she is going back home. Without waiting for Yousef she just turned around and started walking towards the bus stop.

“You know, Sana, you could have just said you want to come back home, there was really no need for saying all those things and making them all feel bad.” he said when they came back home.

“Oh yes, because it’s always all about them, all about how OTHERS feel, isn’t it? Well, know this. In this particular moment I don’t give a damn about how they’re feeling, okay? They’ve made me feel like shit so many times before, I don’t always have to be nice to them, so stop acting like you care about them so much, okay?!” she screamed at him and he was then more confused than ever.

“Sana, what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

She started to look for something in her bag and finally pulled out a piece of paper which she threw at him, screaming:

“Because I’m pregnant, you idiot!” and then she turned her back and ran to the bathroom, leaving him completely dumbstruck, holding a piece of paper against his chest.

He looked at it but all he could see were just some medical names and the percents with some numbers, he didn’t understand a thing from it. He followed her to the bathroom, she was sitting on the floor, crying. When he sat next to her, she started talking, looking numbly at the wall:

“We were practicing drawing blood today at the university. From each other. And later we were doing blood tests. And Isak wanted to draw my blood again, because he said he messed something up with the previous sample, but then he did it again and the result was the same and he just let me see and… And I’m pregnant.” finally she shifted her eyesight from the wall and looked at him “Yousef, I’m pregnant.”

He was folding the blood results she gave him all the time she was talking. He could feel her eyes looking at him and he finally managed to lift his head. He was studying her face for a while, before finally his lips broke into a huge smile and he shouted quietly:

“We’re going to have a baby!”

“So you’re happy?” she asked shyly.

“Sana, are you kidding me? Am I happy? Come on, Sana, don’t make me throw you under the shower!”

Now she also started laughing. They’re going to have a baby.

They’ve decided not to tell anyone before the end of the first trimester. It was really hard for Yousef to keep his mouth shut, there were so many times he had to bite his tongue before accidentally slipping the news to the boys. Finally, they’ve decided to tell everyone during Sana’s birthday party. They thought it wouldn’t be weird to give every guest a little gift – after all not only they were the hosts of the party, but it was also Christmas Eve and even though they weren’t celebrating it, little gifts wouldn’t seem to be something unusual. So after Sana had blew out the candles, they asked everyone to open their little boxes. Inside each of them there was an ultrasound photo. They all were completely shocked and didn’t seem to be completely sure what was going on until Sana said “I’m pregnant” and Yousef added “We’re having a baby”.

Two months later on a lazy Sunday afternoon, Yousef was chilling on the couch, watching a basketball game. He could hear Sana coming into the room from the kitchen and out of the sudden she said:

“Stephen is kicking”

“What?” he asked, he didn’t know where’s this coming from, Stephen Curry was not playing in this game and is the verb ‘kicking’ even used in the basketball vocabulary? But she just repeated:

“Stephen is kicking”

“What?” he asked really confused and turned around to look at her.

“Stephen. Is. Kicking.” she articulated every single word very slowly and clearly, pointing to her belly.

He jumped out of the couch immediately and ran towards her, placing her hand on her tummy. He could feel it. He could feel their baby. He looked at her with pure admiration on his face and she just laughed. But soon when it hit him, he stopped smiling at her and she stopped laughing when she saw the look on his face.

“What?”

“Sana, did you seriously just called our baby Stephen? Sana our baby will not be named Stephen. We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” he reminded her, they didn’t want to know, they wanted to be surprised.

“Oh, I know, but I can feel it’s a boy and Stephen is just a perfect name for him!”

“Nei, Sana. No way. We will not name our son Stephen. Over my dead body.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

And for the past four months she was teasing him all the time, saying things like “I’m so tired, I think Stephen and I will go and get some sleep” or “oh, I must eat some pickles, Stephen adores them”, and soon it became a running joke among their friends and family and everyone was just texting Yousef asking him “how are Sana and Stephen doing?” and things like that. But the only one who never laughed at that was Yousef.

So when few hours ago, they finally got to hold their baby for the first time and after they both said that she is beautiful and perfect and how much they love her and each other, he asked her teasingly:

“So no Stephen, huh?”

“Well, not this time.”

But now, laying in the bed at 4 a.m. in the morning Yousef decided that there won’t be another time. He won’t take any risk about that. And when he decided what he would do, he was finally able to fall asleep.

                                                     ***

It was almost 10 a.m. when he finally arrived at the hospital. When he entered Sana’s room, she was laying on the bed, holding their daughter tucked up in her arms. He kissed both of them on the forehead and sat on the edge of the bed. Only then he noticed the balloons in the corner of the room.

“Wait, have the boys came here already? I told them not to bother you until I call them that they can come!”

“No, Noora and Eva came by on their way to work. And they’ve also brought us this.” she said pointing to the book of names laying on the bedside table. “We should pick a name. Since Stephen is no longer an option, we’re left with nothing. I was looking through it and I like some of them, so I thought that maybe you would take a look at all of them today and later will do the final selection, huh? Yousef, are you even listening to me?”

He finally dared to look at Sana with a guilty look on his face.

“Sana, I have to tell you something but please don’t be mad at me.”

“Okay, I’m already getting mad when you say things like that. What have you done, Yousef?”

“I… I’ve already picked the name.” he said and Sana looked relieved.

“Ugh, thank God, I thought something worse has happened. What’s the name you like?”

“Sana, no. You misunderstood me. I’ve already registered her in the office.” as soon as he said that he could see the change on Sana’s face, she was already furious.

“You did WHAT??? You named MY DAUGHTER without telling me???” she yelled at him.

“Hey, she’s my daughter, too.” he reminded her.

“I’m not so sure about that now!”

“What do you mean?” he asked really confused. “Sana???”

“HOW COULD YOU PICK THE NAME OF MY FIRSTBORN WITHOUT TELLING ME FIRST???” she screamed and their daughter started to fidget restlessly in Sana’s arms.

“Sana, please calm down.”

She took a deep breath and with fire in her eyes, she asked him:

“What’s the name?”

“Okay, I will tell you but first you have to give me her, because I’m worried you might do something to her.”

“Yousef, tell me the name.”

“Sana, pass me the baby.”

She looked at him really angrily and finally gave him the baby. In return he took his backpack from the ground and gave it to her.

“The certificate is inside.”

He focused his eyes on his little girl, he didn’t dare to look at Sana’s face when she finds out. Soon he heard her angry sigh.

“Nei, nei, nei, nei, nei. You did not name our daughter like this.”

“What do you think?”

“About the name?” she asked and he nodded. “I hate it.”

“No, Sana, you love it.” he said and smirked, still not looking at her.

“I. Hate. It.” in that moment the baby started crying and Sana thought it must be the sign as well. “See? She hates it, too.”

“No, she loves it.” Yousef said and finally looked at Sana. “And you love it, too.”

“No, I hate it. And I hate you. Look, she’s crying since you took her, she hates you, too.”

Yousef just chuckled at that and started to make funny faces at their daughter and talking in his special “just-for-children” voice.

“No, she loves me. Yes, you do! You see, Sana, she loves me! And she loves the name. Yes, she does! And yes, your mommy loves me, too, she’s just messing around with us. Yes! Yes, oh you’re so cute.” after talking like this for about 2 minutes and looking at her with pure admiration, she finally stopped crying and Yousef turned around to triumphantly look at Sana. “See? Told you she loves it.”

But Sana was still sitting there, looking at him with her death glare.

“Pass her to me.”

He just smiled really widely and placed their daughter in her arms.

“Go to your mommy, Stephanie Sana Bakkoush Acar.” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “You secretly love it, don’t you?” he asked Sana looking her directly in her eyes.

“No, I hate it.” she said and turned her gaze, but for a millisecond he could see a little smirk passing her face.

“No, you don’t.” he said, hugging her and when she was absolutely sure he cannot see her face, she smiled really widely at her daughter. She did love the name.

[brywrites]

The Reid Effect II

(Part I)

She used to open up around him, drawn towards him by an inexplicable pull. Now she has become a shrinking violet – the mention of his name is enough to send her scurrying away. To see him evokes emotions she’d rather not face. Jealousy, sorrow, anger. And then a strange detachment.

They stop talking. In a matter of days he’s no longer her best friend, and she’s become just as much of a mystery to him as the books she writes. It’s just too painful to exist in any other way.

What she said that day in the coffee shop is still true. She won’t be someone’s second choice. And she won’t be responsible for him breaking someone else’s heart.

Because he loves her. She could see it whenever he talked about her, he loves Annette. And that woman is beautiful, brilliant, and sweet. There’s no reason to hate her, no reason to ruin what might be a perfect relationship on the sole grounds that a single missed opportunity could potentially be better. That’s not the kind of girl she prides herself on being. Still, when it’s late and she’s lonely, memories of him play on repeat in her mind.

So she trains herself not to miss him, forces herself not to long for his voice or his touch. Throwing herself instead into her writing, every emotion channeled into pages and pages of stories. The spot he held in her heart has almost begun to heal. It isn’t until his absence is no longer felt so acutely in her life that everything changes again.

Someone knocks on her door, and she opens to find Annette. Once she’s past the initial shock of seeing her, she asks if something’s wrong. There isn’t a single reason she can think of that Spencer’s girlfriend would be standing at her door.

“I broke up with Spencer,” she says. It’s so forthright and direct that Y/N finds herself staring blankly at her. Surely this is a joke? A hallucination? “I thought you should know.”

Blinking, she asks, “What? Why? He loves you!” After all, that’s why he stayed. He’d fallen for Annette. He couldn’t deny that.

But Annette just shakes her head. “He does. And I love him. It’s just not enough. There’s something missing there and I think we both deserve a relationship where something isn’t.”

This beautiful, articulate woman is standing in the doorway saying these things, and Y/N can’t even process it. Annette is incredible. She’s the kind of person you take home to your parents, the kind of person you marry. Not the sort of person you let go of like that. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks. Because she can’t fathom what could be missing, but she also can’t understand why Annette has come to see her.

She smiles, and there’s a trace of sadness on her face. Bittersweet. “Because I think he could find it with you.”

“There’s no way. We’re not l-”

“He loves me,” Annette interrupts, waving her hand. Dismissing doubts with the smallest of gestures. Y/N wishes she had that sort of poised ease and confidence. “I know that, but they way he talks about you. There’s something there, and maybe it’s not romantic but it’s something. Look, Spencer isn’t the one for me, but I do want him to be happy, and if you’re someone he could be happy with I think you should consider it. He’s a good man.”

“I know,” she says quietly. Eyes cast down at the floor, she can’t bring herself to find anything else to say. What else is left between the two of them? Practically strangers, connected only by a mutual affection for a Dr. Spencer Reid. One, he had the courage to choose. The other he didn’t.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Annette concludes. “I hope it works out for you.” With that, she leaves. Y/N closes the door and just stands there, her back against the wood. It offers some sort of support to her when her whole world has tilted out of the blue. What is she supposed to do now? This isn’t like the movies, she doesn’t intend to go running into his arms now that he’s technically available again. That’s too easy. She refuses to be a default choice. Not just someone he can return to when other options don’t pan out.

Selfish as it sounds, she wants him to choose her. To actively make the decision that there’s nobody else who could hold that place in his heart but her.

So she keeps her distance, never talking too long to him, never lingering when they meet. Everything is strictly professional. A bit of warmth returns to their conversations, and she starts to think of him as a friend once more.

That’s it. That’s all she can afford to let him be. A friend. A friend who still makes her pulse race and her palms sweat, but a friend nonetheless.

It all feels easy, until she’s invited to a small party the Bureau is throwing for agents and consultants. Having done some freelance publicity work for them, she receives an invitation, and despite the obstacles she’s been dancing around when it comes to Spencer, she makes the choice to go. After all, it’s just one night, and maybe something like this is exactly what she needs to figure out what her feelings for him are.

Because on one hand, she’s not ready to let him into her heart again. On the other, she can’t manage to cut him out completely.

With her best black dress and a pair of heels, she sets out into the city that evening, head held high. She’s become familiar with Jennifer Jareau, and a handful of other agents, and trusts that if she needs to give herself space from Spencer, she’ll have people to talk to. Her head is held high and for the first time in a long time she feels confident in herself.

Until the bus she’s on breaks down, several blocks from event, and she’s stuck standing in the rain, huddled under a small shelter and waiting for the next one. The phone buzzes in her bag, and she digs around for it, half-hoping it’s him.

“Hey, are you here yet?” A woman’s voice. It’s only JJ, and she’s not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Maybe both.

“I’m close,” she replies. “The bus broke down, so I’m stuck waiting for the next one. I didn’t want to walk in this downpour.” Then, struck by the hint of impatience in JJ’s tone, she asks, “Is everything okay?”

“It’s Spencer,” she says outright. Talking a bit faster she tries to explain that there have been some budget cuts and some agents from each unit are being asked to take a six-month sabbatical. Spencer is one of those agents. “He told Annette, his ex, who is apparently taking a research position at Berkley. She convinced her supervisor to offer him a temporary position as well.”

She swears the torrential cacophony of rain falls silent in that moment. “What did he say?”

“He hasn’t made a decision yet, but I think he’s going to soon. I just thought you should know.” Y/N bids her a hasty farewell and hangs up the phone. The sky is dark and the rain shows no signs of letting up but she knows she can’t afford to wait for the next bus. It’s only a few blocks. One shoe, than the other, she slips out of her high heels and clutches them in her hands and runs. Runs down the sidewalk, puddles of cold water splashing at her knees and surely soaking the hem of her dress.

Not that it matters much anyways, in a matter of seconds she’s completely drenched as she sprints towards the building. She has to make it. She has to. Because now, she knows what she wants.

She wants him, wants to be with him, wants to see if this thing she’s been feeling is real and possible. She wants a chance to be happy. Too much time has spent writing happy endings for everyone but herself.

If only she can make it on time. Don’t let it be too late, she begs. Don’t let me be too late.

Spencer who made her laugh and made her smile. Spencer who always made her feel comfortable and at ease even when nothing else in her world made sense. Never was she his to lose, but god, she doesn’t want to lose herself. If she lets him go without getting closure, she’ll always be left wondering.

He isn’t hers and she isn’t his but maybe, just maybe, they could belong with each other.

Water drips from her dress in heavy drops by the time she gets to the door. She’s cold and her dress is soaked but she doesn’t care. A mad dash up two flights of stairs leads her to the spacious conference room where the party is taking place. Immediately she finds JJ, only to be met with a look of pity.

Her heart sinks. No. I can’t be too late.

“I’m sorry,” JJ says. “He just went out to call her.”

Almost as fast as she came in, Y/N hurries back out of the room and into the hallway. When she thinks she’s out of view, she falls onto the floor and hugs her knees close to her chest as the tears she’s been holding in ever since she walked out of that coffee shop finally spill out. Courage deflated, heart tired from the tumultuous cycle of emotions. Hope, despair, hope, despair.

Only for Spencer Reid would she be sitting in an empty hallway at a party, sobbing, drenched in rainwater. Her hair clings to her face and the dampness of her dress leaves her feeling chilly. It’s not fair that she’s the one who is left a mess like this. How badly she wants to be over him, to forget that their three years of friendship even existed. It’s not that easy though. He’s not the kind of person you can forget.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Why are you out here all alone? And – are you crying?” Just like that, a memory reappears. She lifts her head to see him standing there, more real than he’s seemed to her in so long. It’s the first time she’s really let herself look at him since they parted ways. It’s not fair, how lovely he looks standing there in a suit, while she’s been half-drowned by the storm.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she says, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She’s too late.

To her surprise, he walks closer to where she sits in a heap on the floor. “If it’s upsetting you, than it matters.” He speaks so softly to her and how she’s missed that voice. “Please, talk to me. I’ve missed hearing from you.”

Just like that, she can’t say no to him. “You’re leaving,” admits, hating how pitiful she sounds. “You’re going to California with Annette and that’s going to be the end of any chance I had at repairing our relationship.” Of course it took her this long to realize what she wanted. It hurts, cuts deep in her heart, but what hurts most isn’t that she’s lost her opportunity. It’s that she wanted him to make a choice.

And he didn’t choose her. And now she’s losing him.

I was never yours to lose. That’s still true isn’t it? At least romantically. Nevertheless he was her friend, and she’s going to lose her best friend.

Silence hangs in the air between them, a noiseless moment she cannot read. Then he asks, “Who told you I was leaving?”

Not bothering to meet his eyes, she says, “It’s not important, they didn’t mean to any harm, so don’t be mad a-”

“Because I’m not.”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “Not mad?”

“No, no, I’m not leaving. Y/N, I’m not leaving. I didn’t take the job.”

Just like that time stops. Her mouth falls open and she prays that her mind isn’t playing tricks on her right now. “What did you say?”

Spencer kneels down beside her on the floor and reaches out to take her hand. She doesn’t pull away as he looks right at her, right through her. She’s never felt so exposed, but she right now she doesn’t mind.

“I didn’t take the job. I’m not going to California. I chose you.” All she can do is stare back at him, wide-eyed. “You said you didn’t want to be someone’s second choice. You’re not. Since Annette and I broke up I’ve thought about what I wanted. I loved her, and while everything about our relationship made sense… there was something missing. All I know is that I’ve spent the last three months, two weeks, and six days missing you. I’m choosing you. That is – if you’ll have me.”

“Spencer…”

“The biggest mistake I made was not telling you how I felt about you when I had the chance,” he continues. “I’m not going to make that mistake again. If you still want to give this a chance, I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you, Y/N.”

They sit there together and his hand feels so warm wrapped around hers and those eyes, god those eyes of his. Her heart won’t stop thudding in her chest and she can hardly think straight when he looks at her like that. Part of her wants to be strong, wants to keep him far from her heart in case she gets hurt again. But when he’s beside her she thinks that maybe being vulnerable is strength too. How is it that after everything, she still feels more like herself when he’s around?

It’s the Reid Effect, all over again. Stronger after their extended separation, pulling at her heart.

“So… what do you think?” he asks, nervous, biting his lip.

What does she think? For a writer, she’s completely at a loss for words. How can she vocalize just how much she’s wanted this and for how long? He chose her. He chose her. Given the choice between what would be easy and sensible, and whatever this will be, he chose to stay with her.

For so long she’s held out on the desires of her own heart. It’s time to give herself permission to be happy, and let this feeling take over. “I think I’d like that,” she says softly. “I’d like that very much.”

A heavy exhale leaves his throat and his face lights up at those words. Hands squeeze just a little tighter around hers, but it’s so comfortable to be close to him this way.  Then looking her over he asks, “Did you walk here in the rain?”

Laughing, she nods. “I…” What does she tell him? The truth, she decides. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “You won’t.” This time, she doesn’t fight it. She believes it.

Spencer stands up, and pulls her to her feet along with him, the both of them grinning like idiots. Everything and her head is still spinning from the highs and lows of the day and it’s hard to think about anything but the cold of her clinging dress or the shape of his smile.

For no other reason than that she wants to, she stands on her toes, leans in, and kisses him. Not on his cheek this time, no she kisses him right on his lips mid-smile, and it feels so good.

Her heart is pounding and the rest of the world disappears. His hands let go of hers to cup her face, fingers warm against the skin of her jaw, kissing her back. When they finally pull apart, he’s breathless and smiling and there’s something in her expression that tells her – she has that sort of effect on him too.

[shinigamikarinkurosaki-archive]

ur last text post piqued my interest, so headcanons on how karin's temper is (how she lets it out) depending on the person?

This post? I’m actually glad you asked!! I don’t get to explore this part of Karin often.

Largely shinigami!Karin.Just forewarning– this is about as long as a Doctoral thesis which is totally your fault, & the entire thing contains potentially triggering content. Warnings include alcoholism, implied BDSM, minor character hate, mentioned suicide, discussion of: dysfunctional family units, violence, racism, LGBT+ prejudice, misogyny, sexual harassment, & various manifestations of abusive situations. I would like to publicly apologize to mobile users.

Karin’s expression of her anger his highly dependent person to person. I’d first like to say that Karin rarely gets angry. Most of her anger is frustration. Of course, she does get angry, but that is caused by violation of her values which I’ll explore after her expression of frustration with specific relationships.

With her loved ones, her reaction to her frustration is a slider of violent to nonviolent highly dependent upon individual to individual, rather than offense. When Karin does become violent, it’s not to achieve an end like Aizen’s abuse, it’s because she’s legitimately reached the end of her rope & violence is her best method to get back at her slights, perceived or otherwise. Mostly.

With Toushirou, violence is a part of their sexuality. I won’t discuss this much because expression of sexuality in teenagers is Wrong™ which throws Me & literally every COCSA survivor under a fucking bus & promotes conservative sex ed which doesn’t work & I will get yelled at. I will say that any violence between Karin & Toushirou is perfectly consensual & performed after they’ve compromised in an argument to blow off steam & I will also say that aftercare is of utmost importance to them.

Karin will never be violent with Momo ever. Don’t get me wrong, Karin does get frustrated with Momo. Karin gets frustrated when any guardian figure won’t let her do something– namely dangerous, possibly fatal things. For instance, if Momo & Karin are on a senpai-kouhai day date & there’s a hollow, Momo will normally let Karin slay it herself if Momo thinks it’s in Karin’s capability. If Momo thinks Karin will get worse that little scratches, Momo will force Karin to sit on the sidelines while she takes care of it. Well, Momo isn’t around all the time, & Karin knows she can take anything up to a Menos Grande, so Momo denying her this is very frustrating to Karin because Karin knows she can take a lot on despite the injuries she may suffer. But like I said, Karin will never get violent with Momo. Momo is too important to Karin, as Momo is one of the few people whom would respect Karin’s autonomy so long as nobody is harmed, including Karin. Karin expresses her infrequent frustration with Momo by pouting, but Momo easily diffuses Karin’s frustration with affectionate gestures like baking Karin cookies or giving her a big ol’ wet senpai forehead kiss.

Yuzu is the person Karin gets frustrated with second most. Now, Yuzu doesn’t do anything to really trigger Karin’s frustration. Even Yuzu’s infatuation with their brother doesn’t really tick Karin off. Karin loves Ichigo just as much as Yuzu does, the only difference is Ichigo’s treatment of them. Ichigo’s favoritism of Yuzu– namely he giving Yuzu more freedom than Karin, such as not policing Yuzu’s friendships– isn’t Yuzu’s fault. That said, Yuzu is the only reason Karin doesn’t kill herself through junior high & high school. Yuzu is legitimately the other half of Karin’s soul. But keep in mind Karin isn’t fulfilled by a normal human life. It’s only a matter of time before Karin resents Yuzu for keeping her from living a happy life as a shinigami. Karin hates herself for feeling this resentment towards sweet Yuzu but never gets the resources to really soothe herself. Karin snaps at Yuzu a lot because of this resentment. As sweet as Yuzu is, Yuzu is still a Kurosaki & won’t roll over for Karin. Their frequent screaming matches eventually get as heated as Ichigo & Karin’s. Really, the only difference between them is that Karin has never struck Yuzu.

Karin has struck Izuru on occasion. They mostly fight about Izuru’s passive aggressive treatment of Toushirou. Toushirou was one of the most important support systems while Karin was still alive. While she doesn’t support Toushirou’s harassment of Izuru simply because of Izuru’s proximity to Momo, Izuru’s equally assholish behavior is offensive to all the things Toushirou has helped her through. When Karin & Izuru are fighting about Toushirou, Karin normally storms out. If Izuru follows her, regardless of his intent to apologize, Karin normally socks him. Thankfully, Toushirou & Izuru start getting along while Karin is in the academy so she & Izuru don’t actually fight much anymore. When they do, they’re mostly drunk, not sure what they’re fighting about, & end up just being petty & scathing & totally cool in the morning.

Karin isn’t infrequently frustrated with Ururu & Jinta. That said, she’s never been violent with either of them while she’s frustrated. Karin is mostly frustrated by their refusal to divulge much about shinigami for fear of retaliation from Ichigo. These are Karin’s battle partners. They’re her longest & most important friends. It’s offensive & demeaning that the two most important people in Karin’s life won’t be honest with her, just like Ichigo. Karin throws tantrums, she screams & bawls her eyes out, she begs for them to have the decency to love her like she loves them– with total trust & devotion, but to little avail. Karin may not speak to Jinta & Ururu for a few days after these tantrums, but that’s about all. Karin can’t stay away from them, they’re simply too important to her.

Ichigo is the person Karin is most often frustrated by. I won’t discuss this much since I already talk about Karin & Ichigo so much, but Karin hasn’t gone one argument with Ichigo without trying to hit him. She’s at the end of her rope the minute Ichigo walks in.

Where do I even start with Ichigo’s crew? I was originally going to do original sections for each of them but Karin’s reasons for her frustration with them & reactions to them are virtually the same. Karin does not like anybody in close proximity to Ichigo. At all. Karin thinks all of them are blindly loyal to Ichigo & agree with Ichigo’s treatment of Karin. This isn’t true, Yasutora & Rukia are especially offended by Ichigo stifling Karin’s potential so. Even so, neither of them do anything to put Ichigo in place which, in my opinion, is almost as bad as agreeing with Ichigo. The only person spared from Karin’s violence is Orihime, & only because Karin gets very soft, kind vibes from Orihime which reminds Karin too much of Yuzu to raise a hand against Orihime. Otherwise, everybody else is fair game. Byakuya is included in this category.

Renji is not included with them. Karin harbors complex feelings for Renji. On one hand, Renji reminds Karin strongly of her brother. Renji & Ichigo share similar body language, syntax, & “vibes,” & Renji’s proximity to Ichigo worries Karin. That said, Momo trusts Renji & Karin trusts Momo’s opinion. There’s not one thing that ticks Karin off with or about Renji, because her mixed feelings themselves trigger her frustration. Now, Karin doesn’t act on her frustration herself. Karin gets violent when she feels trapped her pestered by Renji. Her attacks rarely work since Renji is so much larger & stronger than Karin, but Renji is very respectful of Karin’s space for the most part so there aren’t a lot of altercations between them. The rare times Karin tries to beat the shit out of Renji normally result in Renji putting her in time out with Momo & Momo making Karin apologize for her behavior after Karin has cooled off. Karin’s never sure if she’s really sorry.

Isshin genuinely loves his children. Isshin doesn’t know how to be a father. That’s perfectly reasonable, it’s not like there’s a manual for raising children at all, let alone children with troubles such as the Kurosaki siblings. That said, Karin doesn’t feel like Isshin takes her seriously. This makes it hard for Karin to go to Isshin for any amount of help because he just makes a joke out of everything. Of course, nobody can bottle up the turmoil Karin experiences without it negatively impacting their behavior. When Karin feels mocked by Isshin, she gets violent with him. It’s mostly spontaneous violence, while Isshin is being a goofball.

Karin’s relationship with Shuuhei is hard to articulate. It’s pretty uncomplicated since Karin doesn’t hang out with Shuuhei as much as she hangs out with Izuru, Momo, & Toushirou. Karin has never been violent with Shuuhei, she hasn’t even really fought with him. I just want to touch on this though because Karin does get frustrated with Shuuhei on occasion. Shuuhei is still very loyal to Tousen despite Tousen manipulation & hypocrisy. THIS doesn’t anger Karin. Karin knows emotional abuse is extremely complex & takes time for the survivor to process their experience, heal, & relearn self-respect. Karin admires Shuuhei incredibly though as Momo admires him too, which is rare for Momo. Karin just wants Shuuhei to learn to give himself the respect he deserves, she just wants Shuuhei to see how wonderful he is. She mostly keeps this to herself though.

Karin generally loves Rangiku. Rangiku is fun & bright & is almost as good as Rose & Momo at cheering Karin up. Karin just has one complaint– Rangiku’s avoidance of work & Toushirou consequentially picking up her slack. Rangiku isn’t a bad person, but Toushirou is very overworked & a good partnership requires lifting one’s weight in & out of battle. Karin’s frustration with Rangiku slacker habits never escalates into a screaming match or a fight, but Karin can be quite venomous if she catches Rangiku slacking off somewhere. It never really hurts Rangiku’s feelings. Rangiku knows Karin loves her but loves Toushirou just as much, & Rangiku knows Karin is right, Rangiku’s just so sad that it’s hard to sit down & concentrate. Karin understands, she was disassociated her entire senior year & literally flunked out because she got nothing done, but being sad doesn’t excuse burdening loved ones.

Yukio rarely triggers Karin’s frustration. There’s this ease between them Karin doesn’t get with many individuals at all. I’m not even sure what they’d fight about, let alone either of their reactions. Yukio’s initial disdain for Toushirou would tick Karin off at first, but Yukio & Toushirou eventually develop a friendship of their own eliminating any reason for Karin to get upset over that, & Karin can easily see through Yukio’s aloof, sarcastic facade because it’s exactly like her own. I think any problems Karin & Yukio would have with each other would be resolved quickly & maturely.

Karin’s friends Ryohei, Heita, Kei, & Kazuya are people Karin considers “underdogs” like herself. I’ll make another post about my headcanons for Karin’s friends another time– probably reblog it from my roleplay blog– but Karin has only been violent with these four once. Like, with the intent to get back at them instead of just shut them up when they’re being obnoxious. It’s just after the five of them enter junior high. It’s weird for boys & girls to be friends now, & Ryohei, Heita, Kei, & Kazuya don’t like being teased for being friends with a girl. They try to just stop talking to Karin, “let her down easy” so to speak, but Karin’s having none of that. When Karin confronts them about their distant behavior, they really don’t have any choice but to tell Karin they don’t want to be friends with Karin anymore. Of course, Karin is broken-hearted. Kazuya, Ryohei, Kei, & Heita have given Karin a sense of normalcy throughout elementary school. She throws a fit, throwing two of them into the river, dislocating one’s arm, breaking another’s nose, & storms off. She never sees them again. Fine by her, she tells everybody, despite how her chest aches.

Karin is scarcely frustrated with Shinji to point of violence. His lax demeanor in the office gets on Karin’s nerves frequently, but she respects Shinji too greatly to throw a temper tantrum of any sort. This wasn’t always true. Oftentimes, Karin felt Shinji was comparing her to her brother, but Momo talked to Shinji about Karin’s disdain for her brother & Shinji respects that Ichigo hurt Karin very much, so even if Shinji still cares about Ichigo he & Karin just don’t talk about anything having to do with Ichigo.

Rose normally doesn’t irritate Karin in any capacity. Rose used to sound condescending, with his insistence to make the most of life & exploration & art, but after Rose & Karin converse about making oneself happy, pursuing the things that bring them joy instead of seething in misery, Karin likes him. It’s summarily what she did when she killed herself, however tragic. The most Rose does is irritate Karin when he’s being prissy & finicky. It doesn’t even elicit any smart comments from Karin, mostly just an eyeroll. Nothing ever escalates into violence.

Kensei, on the other hand, can make Karin go from 0 to 100 in a third of a second. Karin doesn’t totally despise Kensei. She actually doesn’t know Kensei very well as a person, but she knows how Kensei treats Shuuhei & it’s totally unacceptable. I’ll cover more about Karin’s reactions towards witnessing abusive situations in a couple of paragraphs. But the moment Kensei snaps at Shuuhei while Karin’s in the vicinity, she’s almost immediately up in Kensei’s face screaming at him how he’s a captain & should know better, how Shuuhei’s done jackshit to deserve being berated like Kensei sometimes does. I think Kensei would be ticked off that some kid is screaming at him like Karin is, but Karin has a lot of good points. I won’t explore my thoughts about the dynamic of Squad 9 in this post so I’ll stop there.

Karin doesn’t really know what she thinks about Mashiro overall. I do think Karin is sometimes annoyed by Mashiro’s immaturity but otherwise Karin doesn’t find a lot to get annoyed with Mashiro, nothing that warrants more than a couple of ticked off remarks at least.

That’s all for Karin’s individual relationships– 2.3k words of it…. Just real quick, I’d like to cover a little bit about Karin’s biases towards certain relationships.

Karin’s family relationships leave much to be desired. She doesn’t really care much for her family, since they’re so distant & Yuzu is the only one who hasn’t betrayed Karin in some fashion. She doesn’t think very highly of her family as a whole because of their dysfunction, however much she may love them. She responds to anger with them similarly to her friendships.

Karin is a very insecure person. There aren’t many people whom are forward with her, & she’s already ostracized from her classmates thanks to shit that went down with ghosts in her primary school years. When Karin gets a new friend, she is entirely loyal & loving of them. Anything she may view as wrong or as a betrayal Karin will react to with incredible hostility. Like her family, she thinks friendships are based in honesty & when that is violated she’s broken-hearted & volatile.

Boyfriends & girlfriends are a different matter altogether. Karin will forgive a lot more with them. You see, Karin is a very physical person. Her two primary expressions of love are physical affection & emotional support. It’s more normal for romantic partners to snuggle, so if Karin is ticked off or just finished throwing a tantrum, she’s going to forgive pretty much anything & everything. If her tantrum is interrupted however, Karin will immediately equate this action to Ichigo’s demeaning behavior & she will turn violent & terminate the relationship.

Moving onto violations of Karin’s values. Overall, if Karin even thinks something is amiss she’ll get ticked off & start screaming or beating the shit out of someone. Karin is intolerant of intolerance, even from her loved ones. Truthfully, if any of her loved ones violate her morals, she’ll react even more hostilely than she will a stranger because her loved ones know better. It’s not to say she’ll never forgive anyone for these, of course, but she believes that cruelty needs to be met threefold.

Karin’s biggest trigger to violent action is LGBT+ discrimination. Being bisexual herself, Karin is directly impacted by homophobia & biphobia. She doesn’t care who or where or when this occurs, she will destroy anyone who exhibits homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, aphobia, et cetera. However, Japan has a very repressed culture, & Karin is aware that some people aren’t malicious, simply ignorant. While she’s most likely to respond violently to LGBT+ prejudice, she’s also most likely to forgive it in the future.

Karin is also really ticked off by xenophobia. The Kurosaki kids are biracial– German/Japanese mix, Masaki being German/Japanese herself– so Karin & her family are impacted by this. Less so Karin since she looks more traditionally Japanese, but Yuzu gets a lot of unwarranted harassment because of Yuzu’s more Western appearance. Karin will react violently to any amount of racially or culturally centric discrimination, regardless if Yuzu is on the receiving end or not. This is an unforgivable offense to Karin & if she sees the same individual over & over again, still behaving xenophobically, Karin will beat the shit out of them until they totally disappear from Karakura.

Misogyny is a good way to elicit Karin’s wrath. It reminds Karin of Ichigo’s treatment of her, & seeing as how Karin & Ichigo can’t go a day without trying to rip out each other’s throats, of course Karin acts hostilely towards this behavior.

Abuse & rape apologism wasn’t high on Karin’s radar until she met Momo. Of course, it was on there, but it had more to do with misogyny than abuse itself. Karin’s violent streak is triggered by praise of known abusers & belittlement or harassment of survivors. This is an unforgivable offense & Karin will at least try to chase said offender out of town.

Any form of harassment or abuse of Karin’s loved ones will result in hostile reaction by Karin. Karin is incredibly protective over her “clan” & would risk her own life for anybody she cares about. While Karin won’t immediately resort to violence, an example being Kensei, if the situation is taking a turn Karin doesn’t like or the behavior against her loved ones continues, somebody’s gonna end up with a knife in their lung. This offense is rarely forgivable to Karin, but she’s not so black & white minded to think that everything is simple as it seems. Sometimes, abusive behavior really is just a mistake that can be remedied, but Karin never receives mistreatment of her loved ones peacefully.

Karin would react just as protectively over strangers. It’s the violation of her morals that triggers her violent behavior, not the person, it just so happens that her loved ones can trigger more volatile reaction.

I want to cover relationship violence specifically for one reason– Karin will plainly murder any romantic or sexual partner of her loved ones whom are mistreating them. No warning, no forgiveness. This is basically because of Toushirou. It’s hard for Karin to watch Toushirou be sad in any capacity, especially when Toushirou blames himself for Aizen’s abuse of Momo. That, & Momo has a huge influence over Karin. Momo talking about Aizen’s abuse make Karin’s blood boil. Between those two influences, Karin has no tolerance nor forgiveness for abusive spouses or partners.

Hm. I was revising this when I noticed Karin’s misandry. I want to specify something here too– Karin does not give preferential treatment to women because they’re women. Most of the offenses Karin has suffered have been via men, & most of Momo’s horror stories are of Aizen. Karin has a very skewed perspective of men therefore she more likely to react violently against men, not because women need to be protected.

[foxcroft-rpg-blog]

Congratulations, Kathryn! Wow, your application just made Neil feel so real. Reading it over, I felt like I was there with Neil, Adam and Willa. I felt like Neil was someone I knew. You built on his character in a way that just made sense, and you have a great grasp of potential plots for him. I’m so excited to see you write more for him.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Kathryn

Age: 19

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Time zone: GMT

Activity: so I’ll be active pretty much all the time until the 18th April, when I go back to uni and activity would go down somewhat (until I come back in early June). it’s an intense term even for Oxford because I have exams at the end of May/start of June, but I feel like I would still be able to see to replies before then - writing would be a really nice study break too, so I’d be dedicated to keeping on track of those! I might struggle to keep up OOC though.

Anything else?: nothing from me! :)

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Neil Monroe

Date of birth:

30th October Mischief Night. That’s what they celebrate on his birthday, and not without bitterness does he see how apt that is. Scorpio sun, Pisces moon. ‘You have a charismatic presence and a lot of willpower, but there are periods when you simply want to get out of the world. You may experience depression and mood swings. You are able to take on the feel of your surroundings. You comprehend things others are unable to. You are tuned-in, aware, and have an ability to sense things. You know innately the difference between right or wrong and no one ever has to tell you.” (x)

How long have they been in Foxcroft:

Neil has lived in Foxcroft all his life, except for the couple of nights he spent in the cheap motel at the edge of the purple cornfield one town over, when he decided that twelve was old enough to emancipate himself from his mother. Same house, same peeling paint, same scorched and sick-stained carpet. The poor end of town, at the fringe of swamp and suburbia, where the smells of the marsh are ripe and tang and the windows are always fogged up and the only cars that pass by are joyrides. Broken porch swing out front, blackened panels left charred from when his dad tried to set their house on fire. Home sweet home. (He’s been more accustomed to sofas over the last few years: Hazel’s living room, when her parents allowed it, or her bed, playing with her curls, with his palms all scraped from the tree he’d climb to get in when they didn’t. Willa’s window seat, a couple of nights a week, his legs folded up at awkward angles and the wind-chimes outside tinkling him awake. Adam’s guest room, once his parents moved out and the manor was theirs, playing golf indoors and never drawing back the curtains, losing all sense of time and liking it that way. Adam’s bed, a lot of the time, especially after Hazel died. Shivering even though it was warm there, shaking and trying to cry quietly, only settling down once he felt his friend’s arms around him. That bed was cold, now. There was no room for him there.)

Sexuality:

I’m going to go with bisexual. I think he consciously feels mostly attracted to girls, but just through writing that last answer I also feel like, whether he’s acknowledged it or not, he and Adam were a bit more intimate than friends usually are: nothing articulated, always just silent gestures, moments… maybe just because of the grief, they thought, but still. Take the vibe of lazy, day-drunk Sundays, skipping school together to go skinny dipping in the swamp, climbing into the Sweetwater Church organ loft at midnight, throwing stones up at Willa’s window and getting chased off by her father, collapsing under a lamppost in fits of giggles. The odd sloppy drunken kiss, fingertips on the other’s cheek, but none of it is real, right? Just warm. Like holding onto each other on the worst nights, when the buzz wears off and they remember what they’ve lost.

FC change: n/a

MORE

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

I don’t think I could write about Neil’s personality as if it were a constant: grief brings out different traits, so it’s best to start before all the tragedy. Growing up, Neil was the classic case of the smart kid whose potential was extinguished by his bad background, only Foxcroft didn’t have that inspirational teacher who saw through his tardiness, his falling asleep in class, the coffee-ring and ash-stained sheets he wrote his homework on. But Neil was always very sharp, shrewd, perceptive: he would look at someone and understand them, or at least invent their character in his head. He knew how to read people and how to act around them, depending on the amount of liquor on their breath or whether there was a glass within their arm’s reach ripe for the throwing.

He used that skill, that insight, whenever he was asking for change, or pleading with Mr Rivers down the street to pay him to mow the lawn that he’d only just come round to mow two days before. He was the son of a depressive alcoholic mother and a father who snapped one day selling insurance over the phone, drove his car into a school bus and died in jail two years later. His self-reliance, then, was another strength, one which he cast off like an old coat the moment he found friends who held out their hands for him to hold – now that those hands are stiff and cold and dead, he needs to rediscover that self-reliance, but he’s struggling.

Besides the shrewd intelligence, the self-reliance, and the daring pluck that allowed him to steal, Neil’s other strength was perhaps most integral to his survival: his capacity to imagine, to dream, to conjure, to escape. His ghost stories were always the most chilling, his jokes the most elaborate, his impressions of late-night talk show hosts (his mother, passed out by ten o’clock, never sent him to bed) the most biting. He’d hidden his father’s guitar in the airing cupboard so that his mother couldn’t pawn it, and had played it so much since that he no longer thought of his dad when he touched the frets. There was something almost magnetic about Neil, when he was at his best: endearing, riddling, infuriating and charming.

He was far from the plucky urchin who enjoyed unbridled freedom, though, and from an early age suffered from a distrust of all authority which manifested in insolence: shrugging off the principal’s threats to contact his mother, flipping a middle finger at the police officers he ran away from. Leaving town every few weeks, only coming back when his legs shook from the hunger, not heaven, that he’d found on the open road. Not allowing many near, until Willa, and even then taking a long time to open up and reveal his hand. Worse were the bouts of melancholy, the hopelessness, the desperation he’d feel, the emptiness that a night around a fire with his friends and a bottle of whiskey could only fill temporarily. His moodiness, the unpredictable nature of his intense emotions: getting worked up over a harmless joke, overly defensive over the pettiest thing. Hazel had been the balm to that, the constant that he could cling to when he was caught in the tempests, and when she died the tempests died with her, and he was left with only the flat, mute, empty sea. Somehow, his friends found, that was worse: he’d lost his vigour, his spark.

Now, with Adam gone too, he’s lost everything. He can’t remember what’s real and what he’s imagined, and some days he doesn’t even know if he’s real himself. He’s quiet and his eyes are red-rimmed, ringed with dark circles. He spends a lot of time at the banks of the swamp, daring himself to walk in there and not walk back out again. He wonders whether they walked in, noble and courageous to the last, or if they were pushed. He wonders whether he was the one that pushed them.

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft?

oh lol he was totally fine about it :) next question? ha hahaha ah aha haha no okay

What happens to the moon when the sun dies? After all, the moon’s only light is a reflection of the sun it chases. A sunny yellow bicycle, reported missing. She was found, drowned. She was drowned in the swamp. Somebody drowned her in the swamp and he lost all sense of taste for weeks after. His tongue was powerless when it wasn’t wrapping around her name, trying to think of a joke, a line, a sweet nothing to whisper. Whispers. Nobody spoke to him at a normal volume anymore, everything a murmur, a pigeon-coo. Even quieter whispers, too, whispers under their breath, he looks terrible, broken, hollow. Hollow. The tree-hollow they’d kept love-notes in, the trunk beneath it they’d carved their initials into after a picnic at the creek. He’d been carved out when she died, a whole chunk of him skinned off and buried with her. His friends had hidden his pocket knife and Adam had visited him every morning with coffee for breakfast. They didn’t drink, or talk. But he’d started to heal after a while. His smile wasn’t the same, his wit not as biting, but he moved his lips and opened his mouth and gave it all a try, anyway, even if just to appease Willa. The three of them stood at the edge of the earth together, one missing, but three still left to look over the precipice like the four always had. Their howls into the night were more like bleated cries, now, their knees skinnier and their eyes duller, but still they howled.

Then he woke up one night and Adam was dead. Adam was dead. He asked the police officer to repeat herself, he was dreaming. He was dreaming and Adam was dead. You know this already, don’t you, because we think you killed him. Adam is dead and you did it, didn’t you? He was the one you’d been holding onto, after Hazel, but maybe you held too tightly or maybe you were high but now he’s low, low down in the soil because he’s dead and you killed him. He’s been dead for two months and where have you been? Where have you been, son? Your mother is on a drip in the county hospital, they pumped the liquor out of her stomach and she’s just about hanging on. That’s where she is, but where have you been? Your buddy and your girlfriend have ended up in the dirt you come from, but where have you been? How do you not know? How do you not remember? Do you remember killing Adam Foxcroft? Don’t raise your voice at us. We have the right to restrain you. Has he suffered a mental break? We can’t hold him on this, it’s not enough. We have to let him go. One last thing, then. One more question. Did you kill Hazel, too?

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them.

Although Neil grew up in the southern end of town, where the nearby swamps bred misfits and the shared stench fostered a sort of camaraderie of outcasts, he didn’t feel like he belonged there. Nor did he belong to the suburbs, or the business district of the town centre, even though the latter was where he spent most of his time once his dad had been put away and his mom had put herself away with drink. The early days of begging and busking he’d done had garnered him a nickname among the proprietors in town: Oliver Twist, said affectionately at first with a fistful of dollars, but as the years went on it wasn’t so cute, and Oliver became a menace, a loiterer, a dirty-faced criminal.

He saw right through the churchgoers: the same people who would turn their noses up at his rotting shoes and moth-eaten sweaters as he lay on a bench on a Saturday night and looked at the stars with glassy eyes would all fall into rank Sunday morning and preach about saving the poor. He had little love for the long arm of the law, too, though thankfully his legs were longer, and they carried him out of that arm’s reach most of the time. He has even less love for the Foxcroft P.D. now, as he finds himself trapped in their web, jostled into a corner like a stray dog, about to be administered a fatal shot. They’ve finally got Monroe, they think, and they’re relishing it.

The other good people of Foxcroft are pleased too, he knows, as they watch him walk into the station with their beady eyes and mutter about time behind their papers. Even the good kids, the ones he never understood, the ones who might’ve liked him if they’d given him a chance, if they’d heard his jokes or let him sing them a song; even they want to see him gone. He’d tried to run away even before all of this, skipping to the next town over with a PB&J wrapped in newspaper in his pocket, not even through with puberty but already aware that there was no room for him in Foxcroft. The tragedy was, though, that in those nights in the cornfield Neil came to understand that there was no room for him anywhere: people of his ilk had two options, and his parents had shown him as much. Be locked up in jail, or lock yourself away inside. He knows which one the town and its people want for him, but when he sits on the hill and looks up at the moon with silent silver tears on his cheeks, all he wants is to be free.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate.

I guess the first thing to address is the gaping hole in Neil’s memory. He knows that the lapse started on the night of the eclipse, but he doesn’t yet understand its significance: for now, the eclipse just equals the last time he saw his best friend alive. He has no idea what could’ve led him to forget two months’ worth of his life: the police are pushing him pretty fervently along the drugs line, but he’s never been much of a user – he can’t afford it. They softened a little once they’d ruled that out, telling him that those who are suffering from trauma can often will entire years out of their memories, that maybe something had triggered him which had caused him to do the same. They weren’t too soft, though, he realised: their idea of a possible trigger for such a memory loss was the murder of his best friend by his own hands. Then they turned to the bloodied hands he’d been found with, and they mused on the idea of a cult. Vulnerable kid, out in the wilderness alone to clear his head, picks one wrong car to hitchhike in… They pitched these theories to him like plots to a cheap horror movie, and none of them fit.

He hasn’t realised that, in the month or so he’s been back, his mood has been waxing and waning in pace with the lunar cycle. He doesn’t see the correlation between the thin sliver of a crescent moon and his cold fever, his physical weakness, the ache in his joints and his shaking hands. He just blames the cigarettes. He has noticed one thing, though, just recently. A mark on his body that is foreign, a mark he doesn’t remember having before Adam died. He spotted it in the mirror after he finally got to shower, after the police had taken samples of the blood on his body and he was allowed to wash it off at home. The ghost of a pale crescent etched high up on his left side, under his collarbone, small and sinister. He touched it, and it felt cold even though the water washing over him was scalding hot. He couldn’t remember getting it done. He couldn’t remember anything.

When he touched it, he could feel his heart beating; he remembered feeling it racing when he was with Hazel, when he was with Adam. He remembered how their hearts were still, but when he touched the crescent on his chest he felt his own heart still pumping, bitter and stoic. The strength in his body gave out and he sank to his knees, keeled over in the shower, back arched and chest shuddering with sobs. He saw the blood on his hands again, the blood which didn’t belong to him, and he scrubbed at his palms with his knuckles until they were red raw for real. He stayed in the shower with his head in his hands until the water ran cold, but still he didn’t feel clean.

Please include 1-2 possible plots you see for this character. The first cluster of plots I think we need for Neil deal with the short-term, and focus on his role in the investigation as it is right now. I want to see tense encounters with Murphy, visits and investigations which aren’t perhaps all above board, or compliant with official procedure: Murphy’s so close to pinning it on Neil and burying the truth that I think he’ll be getting desperate, and I want to see real threatening tension there between them. I also think Levi is important in this regard, and I’d love to cook up some sort of exposé on the Monroe family (it’s perfect for the paper: a crazy, jailed, dead father; drunken, depressive, hospitalised mother; and their inevitably criminal, sociopathic, murderous son) and play that out with Neil and Levi: I think Levi would be really important in telling Neil’s redemption story, too, if that ever comes, so developing their relationship would be very interesting. Amelia is crucial to short-term plots as well as the longer-term burn: we’ll have to tease out an excruciating process of trust, but I want there to come a point where Neil gets to look Amelia in the eye and tell her how he really felt about her brother, and I feel like when that point comes, she’ll believe his innocence, and maybe they can develop a good bond. Because of his role in the murder case, I think it’d be quite easy for Neil to be believably cast out by a lot of characters, and it’s unlikely that he’d push to make connections at this point, so I’ll be on the lookout for ways to engage him with people in circles that he isn’t already involved in. (Cassidy and Summer and the other ‘good kids’ are an interesting case, for example. I wonder, does anyone in the town not think he did it? Or at least pity him nonetheless? I’d be keen to work on a plot related to that, but I think a crucial figure in ‘saving’ him is obviously Willa. The rebuilding of their relationship would be very important in the long-term.) Working on the slow enmity-to-friendship of him and Cherry is another plot I’d be keen to develop. I’ve also been doing some thinking about Shae, and thought it would be cool if one day either they bump into each other and get talking about it - at the bar, maybe, on neighbouring barstools - or Neil just straight up approaches her, and basically he asks Shae to try and read his mind to go digging for answers, to help him un-block his memory, to find the truth, etc. He’s skeptical and reluctant at first, probably, but there’s lots of potential there! I also really, really want to throw him and Valerie together, and Jonah. The fact that they know they’re responsible for at least one of the deaths, of his girlfriend at that, and that now he’s likely going down for both murders – a conversation between them would honestly be squirm-worthy and I want it now. I also want to develop a plot between himself and Dominic - they might have never met before, but maybe they meet whilst both grieving down in the swamps. They get to talking, and they realise how well the other knew Hazel and how little they were aware of it until that point, and voilá - tension.

WRITING SAMPLE

The round white mouth of the interrogation lamp burned full like the moon outside the station, its hot electric hum causing his skin to prickle. The officer had stepped out, undoubtedly in an attempt to rustle his nerves, to leave him with his thoughts in the hope that they’d bubble up so much he’d end up squealing. As if they didn’t already shriek in his skull. Neil’s fingers were shaking, as he sat silently at the table, and he patted his chest for the cigarette box they’d confiscated as he’d come in. Muscle memory. He was good with that: sirens mean run, fists mean duck, bottle-clink means grit your teeth and try to read the newscaster’s lips over the shouting. Oliver Twist, they’d called him, the cherubic thief you can’t help but forgive. Little did they know that Oliver would grow up, and his angel face would become gaunt and his eyes dull, and suddenly his skinny hips and bruised knees would be repulsive, and instead of smiled at he’d be spat on and instead of hand-outs, he’d get handcuffs. On his way in that night he’d been marched past the same officer who’d sat in his patrol car silently six years back, watching the store owner pummel a minor for shoplifting a frozen pizza and some Band-Aids. He’d been photographed for the mugshots by the same officer who’d visited the house after his dad’s arrest, who’d reviled his mother, sneering, to his face: Surname sure does suit her, doesn’t it? Monroe. Blonde hair, bit of a looker, popular with the fellas. Wonder what she’s got rattling in the bathroom cabinets. Daring Neil to hit him, daring him to commit an arrestable offence right then and there, just so they could pack him up for good. Over his dead body, he’d thought: it had turned out to be over Adam’s, instead. He’d never really been able to grow much facial hair, but stubble had ghosted his sallow cheeks when they found him. ‘Like a terrible ghost’, the old Mr and Mrs had described him in their story for the papers: Neil’s reappearance had given them enough dinner-party material for a lifetime. He felt like a ghost, too, a wailing phantom lurking about in the streets of a town which just wanted him gone. He was even living in a ghost house, empty of its owners, bills piling up by the door. He hadn’t gone to visit his mother in the hospital yet. It was almost as though, in his head, she’d died too. Some days he wondered why he hadn’t died himself already. Was he staying alive for the next microwave quesadilla, the next pack of cigarettes? He used to own his poverty like it was interesting, playing the role of the jaded stray too old for his years, too clever for his own good. All that cleverness – the biting remarks, the Sartre aphorisms he’d picked up from a documentary soundtracked by his mother’s snores – was useless now. All the blasé bitterness in the world couldn’t save him, nor help him pick up the pieces which lay around him in ruins.

He’d tried to weave the tapestry together a thousand times, just like the police officers who sat opposite him and attempted to do the same with their questions, their scribbles, their murmurs. None of it made sense, though, almost as if there were a thread missing which condemned the whole thing to fall apart. A missing piece in the story, a missing chapter in the timeline: for him, it was missing months. He needed to make sense of it all, needed to understand as much as he’d craved all those years to be understood. He still craved that now, as he stared into the cup of bad coffee the officer had left him with and tried to find the answer in its black stillness: where have I been? Who am I now? Where the hell am I going?

EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?:

kill him !!!! kill him now !! but no in all seriousness, I’d be okay with him dying and, to be completely honest, I feel like he’s marked himself for death already anyway. my aim in plotting will be to bring him back from that edge with the help of other characters, but if the future turns of events obscure that goal, or if someone takes it upon themselves to kill him themselves, I’d be totally chill with that. it makes a lot of sense for Neil not to make it out of this mess alive, tbh, as much as he’s my baby and I’d hope he does.

Why did you choose this character?:

I’ve played a lot of characters with internal struggles and woes and worries before, but Neil has this darker edge to him which I wanted to explore as a writer. He’s a bit more of a wild target, too (chaotic neutral, I think?) where I’m more familiar with the lawful neutrals and goods. And, of course, there’s a lot of meaty plot to get through with him, and a lot of things to straighten out with regards to his friends, identity, and his role in the case, all of which I’m really excited to bite into.

Extras:

I have a mock blog for him here, though it’s somewhat sparse, but my pinterest board for him conveys a bit more. I’ve also made a playlist of songs that either relate to him or actually feature in his story throughout the years - there are little notes besides each in the description that should explain that more fully.

How did you find us?: through a friend referral!

p.s.: finally, thank you so much for reading all of this !!! I know my app was hideously too long and overblown but I hope you liked it

[smolgaysnake]

i’ll drive for you all night; kidsquad

for @idontneedtobeforgiven, who requested kidsquad with no apocalypse 

alicia waits for her mother to invite her home. the day before her last final she receives an email with two typos, asking what day she’ll be home. she packs her bags and takes her test and rides with the girl who lives two doors down in the girl’s boyfriend’s two door sedan stuffed to bursting with plastic tubs and trash bags of dorm materials to the tiny storage space they’re splitting even down the middle. She pays her half at the front desk and chats absent mindedly on the ride back to downtown berkeley.

They pull up in front of the bart station and a horn blares when alicia opens the door and climbs out, hiking her rucksack up on her back. “Going home?” the girl asks.

“I guess,” alicia answers. She stands in front of the doors with a bus ticket in her hand and frowns at the cracks in the sidewalk. Someone jostles her and she turns away from the station, walking up shattuck.

++

She pays four dollars for a joint  in peoples park and lays around in the grass with the hipsters and the homeless and the other straggler undergraduates until the sun dips low and she doesn’t cough anymore when she breathes in deep deep deep and holds until her chest spasms the smoke back out of her mouth.

she’s not even surprised when nick’s head appears in the cloud she’s watching drift away in a cloud of red and purple sunset. “Look at this,” he says, sort of peering at her. “they do say its genetic.”

“your hair’s clean,” she says. she thinks she should sit up but just sort of curls up on her side, pleasantly floaty and too faded to get mad at him for not showing up at family night like he promised he would ten months before.

“not the only thing,”  he says, and flops down beside her. normally she would hold out for a long slow while to make them both suffer but today she rolls over, wiggling until she fits into the circle of his arms and can nose into his chest and snuggle close. “mm,” he hums. “sorry i missed your graduation.”

alicia snorts, then giggles until she hiccups. she pokes him in the ribs, hard. “asshole.”

“it would be way more dramatic if it was four years before i saw you again.”

he kisses her temple, then drags his teeth across the edge of her eyebrow, teasing. She grumbles at him without heat and tangles their legs. she sees people walking by and thinks they must look like just another young couple, caught up in their own little world.

++

“you have a car?”

“i always had a car.” nick jingles the keys, twirling them around his index finger. he plucks the ticket from under the wiper and sighs heavy. “fucking berkeley.”

“i thought you hocked it,” alicia says, sliding into the passenger’s side and shoving the chair all the way back with a grunt. “mom bail you out again?”

“don’t start,” nick says. he cranks the engine over and points towards the highway, crawling through the traffic.

“hows daddy,” alicia asks, sing song, and smirks a little when he pulls a face. “maddie got that new--”

“alicia.”

alicia glowers at the dashboard, huffing. “whatever. not my fault you had to move in and play happy families.” her resentment curls around her words, cutting and angry, and nick sighs.

“come on now. you didn’t really want me hanging around berkeley ruining all that undergrad hijinking.”

“whatever,” alicia repeats, and shoves her sunglasses, big bug eyed and opaque, over her eyes. she slouches and pretends to be asleep when he pulls over at a gas station and buys her the trail mix she likes.

++

“alicia.” madison hugs her, absentminded and oddly soft. “i’m glad you guys got in okay.”

nick clatters in behind her, carrying her bag. “is there food?”

alicia can practically feel the attention slide away from her. “let me make you a plate,” madison says, and goes to the kitchen.

alicia wanders in behind her. “where’s travis?”

“business,” madison answers, brisk. her tone goes gentle. “nick, do you want soda or juice?”

++

alicia takes a bath. she hasn’t done it in ages, but madison is cooking something french and overly complicated in her eagerness to play happy families again and she’s still smarting at nick for reasons she can’t articulate.

she finds a bottle of bubble bath under the sink and fills the bathroom with steam and the tub with soapy lathered suds and sinks into the heat with a sigh. the water sloshes gently against the sides of the porcelain and she sinks all the way under, eyes scrunched shut and exhaling air bubbles in a stream to the surface. she wiggles her toes and feels her chest tighten, her head gone distant and buzzy.

nick pulls her upright with a yank, palms slipping for grip on her shoulder and her side. his fingers nudge her breast when he shakes her. “what the fuck, licia?”

she drags her hand over her face, wiping away the water and wincing when she blinks soap into her eyes. “what the fuck Nick? privacy much?”

he glares at her, his hands fisted at his side. “can’t you just... ?”

she glowers back. his eyes slide down her torso and widen slightly before snapping back to her eyes. she stands, water sluicing down her skin, and they lock gazes, twin stubbornness.

“nick,” madison calls, “alicia. dinner!”

he throws her a towel on his way out, pink behind the ears.

++

alicia goes to pick up chris from his mother’s house. she watches them together in the driveway, the way she fusses and how he preens even as he blushes and swats at her hands, the way she kisses his cheek and how he clutches her in his goodbye hug, desperately firm and still so carefully gentle.

alicia isn’t sure if they should hug or not so she stays in the car to avoid the entire situation. “i heard someone has summer school,” she says, five minutes in, because she’s her brother’s sister and they’re the both of them assholes. there’s a fading bruise around his left eye socket and the knuckles on his left hand are reddened, the middle split. she touches the cut, shining with ointment, gently with the tip of her finger so he knows she’s a little sorry, even if she’ll never say it.

“i heard someone was alone on family day,” chris says, offhand. “poor little middle class good girl on an academic scholarship.”

“asshole,” alicia says after a moment. he leans his elbow on the compartment between the seats and nudges at the arm she leaves resting on the gearshift. they grin at each other at stoplights.

++

alicia sleeps too long and naps while rereading old books she hasn’t cracked in years, faded pages and her cramped pre-pubescent handwriting in the margins; pressed wildflowers at the end of each chapter. time feels slow and maple-sticky, dreamlike.

nick pads into her room one day when she’s laid across her bedspread. he’s spinning a daisy, plucked from the neighbour’s yard, between his fingers, and he tucks it behind her ear before sliding onto the mattress and pillowing his head on the tiny swell of her belly. she smoothes his hair, working out the small tangles until it’s silk in her hands, her nails tracing the curve of his ear, tickling the skin of his throat until he shivers and nips at her.

the floorboard creaks while they’re napping and she’s not sure if she dreamed it or not but she saw chris in the doorway, watching, stuck between shock and yearning.

++

nick comes to dinner wild eyed and rambling. he laughs too hard at his own jokes and mumbles to the empty chair to his left. madison eats while looking at her plate with her napkin pleated neatly in her lap and alicia fumes at her meatloaf while chris sticks his fork repeatedly into his mashed potatoes. when nick giggles he snorts.

++

alicia storms chris’s room at midnight, dragging her credit card against the jamb until it opens in her palm. “chris,” she hisses, sliding across to his bedside and only half tripping over a pair of sneakers. “chris.” she pokes him.

“fuck off,” he mumbles, sleep creased and ruffled. “wasn’t that locked?”

she takes him to the park, hopping from foot to foot while he stammers and blushes and makes her turn around while he drags on jeans over his boxers (blue with grey stripes, cute enough she arches an eyebrow at him while he pulls on a t shirt and hisses at her to stop looking). she tugs him by the wrist when he goes for the front door. “haven’t you ever snuck out before? it’s traditional.”

she goes first out the kitchen window, the sill scraping on her back, the small drop to the ground jolting her knees. chris clambers down after her, less graceful but more athletic. “it’s cold,” he says, and she thinks about teasing him, but before she can come up with something he’s shucking his zip hoodie and draping it gently around her shoulders.

they swing on the swingsets until she gets bored and then lie down shoulder to shoulder on the picnic tables. she falls asleep with his hair brushing her cheek and his hand on her hip and they wake up dew frosted and shivery, jogging home giggling and falling into his bed together, burrowing for warmth.

++

nick throws up on alicia’s bed. she rolls him off on the floor onto his stomach, cusses him out, and stomps to chris’s room. he lifts the duvet up and spoons her while she shakes and cries a little and hates, hates, hates.

++

“i got kicked out of school,” chris tells her, scuffing at a rock in the parking lot of a seven eleven. she slides two ice cream bars from her sleeve and they duck behind the dumpster to eat them, squatting in the gravel. at the end of it she lifts up his wrist and licks a melted streak of vanilla from the bottom joint of his thumb before it can drip down his arm.

“only one more year,” she offers, gentle.

“yeah,” he mutters. he shoots her a little sly smile, then produces two airplane bottles of vodka from his pocket and dimples when she laughs wide and smiling.

++

they get drunk huddled into the plastic hollow tube in the sandbox playground, skin sand-chalky and backs hunched. alicia has half a joint left from berkeley and he makes a roof with his hands to block the wind while she lights it. when he reaches for it she sucks in a big hit and holds it, eyes inviting, until he tips his lips towards hers and flutters his eyelashes against his cheek.

++

nick drops her backpack onto her stomach, waking her with a jolt. “i can’t be here anymore,” he says, manic and gesticulating too much. “i can’t, i can’t, i can’t--”

++

“i can’t,” he mumbles, two hours later, voice hoarse, shivering from the spray of the shower. “please, leesh.”

++

alicia opens chris’s door. it’s never locked anymore, and his look softens when he sees her. she stands in his doorway and looks at his room, messy in that teenaged boy way that smells like awkwardness and too much cologne. she extends her hand to him, little girl pleading. “come with us?”

++

alicia drives first. they go to a diner and she plies nick with black coffee and dry toast and sneaks the pineapple from chris’s plate until he notices and brandishes his fork at her. they throw nick in the back to sleep it off and she pops bubblegum while chris unfolds the maps from the glovebox, at least ten years out of date. “where are we going?”

chris traces his finger along the spiderwebs of freeways and highways. he folds the map up and sticks it into the door pocket. “wherever you want.”

++

“where am i,” nick asks, flat on his back on a motel six bedspread. he turns his head sideways and sees them siting crosslegged on the bed beside him, leaned against each other and watching a movie on the television. “and you were there, and you...”

chris throws him a package of salted cashews and a bottle of water. “throw up in thomas if you have to.”

nick turns his head the other way. a plastic bin sits on the mattress beside him, a post-it stuck to the side. thomas it says, in alicia’s handwriting. “he prefers tommy,” alicia says, completely serious, “and he’s into some kinky shit.” she giggles and chris snickers into her shoulder. the bottle of scotch they’d stolen from travis before they’d left rolls empty off the bed and clunks on the cheap thin carpet.

chris nuzzles into her throat, teeth first, tipping them back and off balance. nick throws up four times into the trashcan, retching and wheezing, and chris and alicia lie wrapped up in each other, stretching his shirt collar to ruin to rest her cheek on his bare chest, his fingers skimming her ankle and up her shin, feeling the prick stubble of the fine hairs on her legs.

++

chris drives the next day. the unfold the map on nick’s bed that morning, over his prone body, and he covers alicia’s eyes with one hand while he spins her. her finger taps down on the map. “so it is,” he agrees, and she flicks nick in the forehead until he wakes up cursing them.

nick sleeps in the back, pale and shaky, occasionally spitting up bile into a paper bag. alicia slides the passenger seat all the way back and props her feet up on the dashboard. he buys her bubbagum at the gas station and watching her blow big pink sugary bubbles in his periphery vision, her sunglasses sliding down her nose and the window rolled down to ruffle her hair.

++

they pull over into a big gas station, a trucker’s stop, and eat shitty hotdogs. nick takes one look at them and pulls a jacket over his face, blanching. they tilt their chairs back and sleep just like that, turned towards each other, fingertips just barely touching in the space between.

++

nick is himself again. he kicks chris to the backseat for questioning his abilty to drive and then alicia to the backseat because he looked so mopey to be alone. they pass sunflower seeds to each other when he’s not looking and spit the shells at his ears until he sends them both to the backseat for being assholes and they pout at him in the rearview mirror before falling asleep in a heap, seatbelt pulled out and twisted, limbs tangled.

he drives for a long time, into the night, smaller and smaller roads, until they’re the only car on the freeway and the radio crackles while his headlights eat up the road. he rolls down the window and tastes the night air and hears himself think for the first time in a long long while.

++

alicia wakes when he touches her shoulder, gentle. she rubs at her eyes, and mumbles his name. he undoes her seatbelt and helps her up, murmuring as she toddles into the motel room and faceplants into the bed. he goes back out and chris is out like a light. he hefts him with a small grunt and mutters about powerbars and protein shakes while he carries chris into the room and lays him out next to alicia, who’s already asleep again, snuffling. he tugs a blanket over them and puts the television on low to keep them company while he goes down to the 24 hour liquor store on the corner.

++

alicia finds the bottles the next morning and hurls them at nick in the parking lot while he ducks and dodges and calls her a crazy bitch. she screams that he’s a junkie and a disgrace and she hates him, god she hates him.

nick storms off when she starts crying because she’s not wrong and everyone knows it--he knew it before she did.

++

alicia leaves chris sleeping and finds nick by the vending machines. “what are we even doing?”

nick snorts, lighting a cigarette. “when have i ever known, leesh?” he rocks back on his heels when she shoves him, palms to his chest and fingers twisting in his shirt.

“what are you doing,” she asks, teary eyed, “why are you doing it?”

“i don’t know,” he repeats, retreating, “i don’t--” she tries to slap him and he grabs her by the wrist, twisting it up against her back and pinning her down on the picnic table. he’s pressed against her spine, hard against her thigh, lips on the back of her neck. “sshh, shh. it’s okay.”

“nick,” she mumbles, her stance widening. her hips cant. “nicky, please.”

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, spitwet and heavy breathing, nudging her feet wider while she squirms and pleads and comes apart from just one finger, how well he knows her, her jeans around her ankles and bent over, hands on the edges of faded splintery wood and her panties hooked to the side.

++

chris pays for a real hotel, one with a tub, and shuffles up to alicia with a tiny bottle of cheap shitty bubblebath and a shy quiet smile. she walks backwards, step by step, their pinkies hooked. he trembles when she undresses him, a puddle of clothing at his feet and his weight leaned on her when he steps free of it.

he’s careful when he undoes her shirt, her bra. he looks at her for permission before gently tugging her underwear down and kneels to free her feet from her socks, dotting a single kiss on her anklebones before standing again.

she cradles him to her in the bath and they drift lazy for so long he goes soft, floating in the water between her hips. when the water goes cold she takes him in her hand and coos in his ear and he stammers her name, pleading until she gives him permission.

++

nick wakes up when they climb in on either side of him, smelling like cheap bubbles and hotel shampoo and each other. they hook a leg over both of his hips, overlapping, and he feels chris’s tongue, hesitant and curious, tasting his skin just below his jaw. alicia sinks her teeth into his shoulder with a growl, claiming. “i’ll pick where we go tomorrow,” he says, voice rasping, and when they hum agreement it’s pitch perfect, harmonized.

[thefaeriereview]

Tour: Road to Delano

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Welcome to the blog tour for historical fiction, The Road to Delano by John DeSimone!

The Road to Delano

Publication Date: March 10, 2020

Genre: Historical Fiction/ Coming of Age

Publisher: Rare Bird Books

Jack Duncan is a high school senior whose dream is to play baseball in college and beyond―as far away from Delano as possible. He longs to escape the political turmoil surrounding the labor struggles of the striking fieldworkers that infests his small ag town. Ever since his father, a grape grower, died under suspicious circumstances ten years earlier, he’s had to be the sole emotional support of his mother, who has kept secrets from him about his father’s involvement in the ongoing labor strife. With their property on the verge of a tax sale, Jack drives an old combine into town to sell it so he and his mother don’t become homeless. On the road, an old friend of his father’s shows up and hands him the police report indicating Jack’s father was murdered. Jack is compelled to dig deep to discover the entire truth, which throws him into the heart of the corruption endemic in the Central Valley. Everything he has dreamed of is at stake if he can’t control his impulse for revenge. While Jack’s girlfriend, the intelligent and articulate Ella, warns him not to so anything to jeopardize their plans of moving to L.A., after graduation, Jack turns to his best friend, Adrian, a star player on the team, to help to save his mother’s land. When Jack’s efforts to rescue a stolen piece of farm equipment leaves Adrian―the son of a boycotting fieldworker who works closely with Cesar Chavez―in a catastrophic situation, Jack must bail his friend out of his dilemma before it ruins his future prospects. Jack uses his wits, his acumen at card playing, and his boldness to raise the money to spring his friend, who has been transformed by his jail experience. The Road to Delano is the path Jack, Ella, and Adrian must take to find their strength, their duty, their destiny.

“This whole story is an absolute triumph!” ―Thehauntedfae Book Blog

“The Road to Delano is a compelling story that will leave readers thinking about its surprise ending long after the final confrontation comes to a head.” ―California Bookwatch

“Five Stars. Outstanding writing, fast-paced. A must-read for people who love history AND baseball.” ―ReedsyDiscovery

“I really enjoyed this story. It’s more than a little Steinbeck, in a very good way…” —Leigh Anne, Book Sirens

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Ash Wednesday

Monday at lunch, Jack and Ella settled on the grassy school quad. The morning haze, a gray dullness, hung over them. Ella in a long skirt and T-shirt printed with her favorite saying played her guitar. Jack ate slowly, as Ella gently strummed a Joan Baez song. She let the last chord vibrate in the air. “You look far away today, Jack.” “Just thinking.” “Worried about the big game?” She strummed a C chord. “Not really. I’m ready for those guys.” As crucial as the Arvin game was to his chances for a scholarship, his head spun with Herm, the sheriff, and lost combine. He needed to set all that aside. But how? “You’re worried about losing that combine, aren’t you?” He shrugged and glanced off into the haze. Herm’s beat-up face filled him with too many questions, ones he would rather not ask. “What do you think happened to it?” Jack did his best to suppress a frown. He spent the next twenty minutes explaining how Sheriff Grant found Herm Gordon face down in the mud and how their combine had gone missing. Short of stealing someone else’s machine and selling it to pay the taxes, he didn’t have too many ideas about what he could do to save his mom’s place. “Jack, you have to protest. Write to the newspaper. Make noise until the sheriff finds your combine. Someone knew you needed that money to save your property.” Ella’s sense of urgency hovered over her, an impending sense of doom that required her to stand up and shout to drive it away. She had been this way since he first met her, always ready to protest. Vietnam had taken up most of her attention. But it was their trip to Berkeley a couple of years ago that had set her on fire, and had almost got Jack arrested in front of Sproul Hall. Two years ago, their sophomore debate team had joined the junior and senior team on a field trip to UC Berkeley to observe a statewide competition. They left Delano before dawn and talked for the entire four-hour bus ride. That was something he had never done with any girl. They sat across from each other, an aisle between them. Her darting green eyes held his interest. Life shot out of them, beautiful and intelligent in the same instant. They debated the war in Vietnam, who killed JFK, the likelihood of a gunman on the grassy knoll, the Selma march, the Freedom Riders, Malcolm X, the Black Panthers—she had an opinion on everything. Mostly, she made sense. The girl’s intensity at times unsettled him, but it mostly intrigued him. During the debate competition in a Berkeley auditorium, shortly after the lunch break, Ella leaned into him in the dark. “Meet me outside on the steps in a few minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she rose and disappeared. Jack stewed in his seat, trying to figure out what she was up to. He wouldn’t miss much if he left. Besides, her sense of adventure piqued him. A few minutes later, he found her outside the glass doors on the steps. In the breeze, her brown hair, straight and long, riffled across her mischievous smile. “There’s an FSM rally on the other side of the campus. Go with me. We’ll be back in plenty of time.” “A what?” he asked. “You know, the Free Speech Movement. Please, go with me,” she pleaded with her green eyes. “Mario Savio is going to speak.” From the way she threw out his name, he was someone Jack should know. He had never heard of the Free Speech Movement, or Savio, whoever he was. Jack glanced back to the doors. “They’ll be in there for hours.” She took his hand. He marveled at her warm grasp. He liked it. They made their way through a maze of buildings. She must have had this all planned out. She led him directly to a large plaza packed with students milling about. Some sat, most stood talking and smoking, and clouds of strange smelling smoke wafted over the crowd. A line of cops stood on the fringes of the crowd. They fidgeted with their batons. The two of them were so far back, they could hardly make out what the speaker was saying. Ella pushed her way toward the front, and Jack held on. Had she done this before? She stopped when they were about twenty feet from the speaker, who read a list of students who were being expelled. People were booing. A new speaker came to the microphone, a tall wiry-haired student in a white shirt and sheepskin-lined jacket. Electricity seemed to shoot right out of his hair. The crowd around Jack murmured, likely wondering what this guy was going to say. Ella squeezed his hand tighter. He didn’t dare let go of her, afraid they’d get separated in the jostling crowd. The crowd hushed when the man with the electric hair started to speak. He had a machine-gun delivery. His message burst from him with so much energy the entire crowd leaned in for more. His lips moved like waves, every word coated with fire. I ask you to consider if this university is a firm…we’re the raw materials. And we don’t mean to be made into any product…to be bought by anyone. We’re human beings! The crowd applauded, and Ella loosed her hand to clap and shout. There’s a time the operation of the machine becomes so odious… you can’t take part. You’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears…upon the levers… and you’ve got to make it stop.…Unless you’re free, the machine won’t be prevented from working. The crowd broke into more applause. Kids were yelling their agreement. Jack wasn’t clear what machine the guy was talking about, or what freedom he didn’t have, and what gears needed to be stopped. Then the speaker introduced Joan Baez, and the crowd went crazy with chatter and clapping. She started singing a Bob Dylan song, and a hush fell over everyone. How many times can a man turn his head And pretend that he doesn’t see? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind… Ella hopped up and down on the balls of her feet. Baez started up another song, “We shall overcome…,” and everyone joined in, the crowd swayed with the words. Something great, something powerful was about to break open here. He took Ella’s hand, and she gave him a complicit smile. She held him tight as if she feared she would float away in the euphoria of the moment. When the song ended, she pulsed forward. Jack dared not let her go as they slipped between applauding students who hovered around the famous singer. Ella ascended right up to the great Joan Baez, her long black hair draped over her shoulders, her guitar slung over her neck. Ella tried to talk calmly, but she only stammered. “Did you want an autograph, honey?” Ella had a confused look as if the question she wanted to ask had slipped away. “Do you go to school here?” Ella shook her head. “Delano High School.” “Look,” Baez pointed over Ella’s shoulder. “You guys got to get out of here. There’s going to be trouble.” At the far end of the crowd, cops were forcing students to move. Cop cars with lights flashing swarmed into the quad forcing students toward them. Panicked voices, screams, and shouting rose in the quad. Police vans rolled into the quad, lights flashing, the short squawks of their sirens stirred up the crowd.

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About the Author John DeSimone is a novelist, memoirist, and editor. He’s co-authored bestselling The Broken Circle: A memoir of escaping Afghanistan, and others. He taught writing as an adjunct professor at Biola University and has worked as a freelance editor and writer for nearly twenty years. His current release, a historical novel, The Road to Delano, is a coming of age novel set during the Delano grape strike led by Cesar Chavez. BookSirens said, “It’s more than a little Steinbeck, in a good way….” He lives in Claremont, Ca, and can be found on Goodreads and at www.johndesimone.com 

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