#and then there's no elaborating either. brother you are unintelligible to me

[bugsbenefit]

ngl seeing everyone clutch onto one(1) photo and then "speculate" on it is hilarious because everyone is coming to "conclusions" and they're all contradicting each other asdfajas. just with the Finn pic today alone, i've seen people say he looks "older"? (not shit they didn't film for a year) so it has to be a time skip past 1987? (no idea what the reasoning for that is supposed to be other than that the actors look different than 1 year ago), i've seen people explain it could be a flashback to pre s4, i've seen people say it's a "byler win" for some reason?? and so on and on

not shaming at all but also holy shit i need everyone who's feeling "we lost" about something to shut up right now, no one can even agree on what they're seeing in a photo, i Assure you whatever you're upset about happening has a less than 5% chance of actually happening, it's a still image my man

[nehswritesstuffs]

For the "500 words or less" director's cut prompt, which I missed because of the holiday: this 409-word bit of TTOU chapter 31 that surprisingly does not include Nicola, as much as I love her, but does include my favorite confused and well-meaning alien blorbo.

“Walsh’s sister is in government and her brother-in-law was private-sector for a long time,” Fajr explained from the front passenger seat. Gordon was driving, leaving her free to talk without the fear of distraction. “I don’t remember precisely what either did, since I’m not well-versed in those parts of Human society, but it’s been able to help them afford this neighborhood without an issue.” “No one needs to be that well-versed in Human society,” Malcolm assured her. “Her sister’s probably a high-ranked civil servant, impossible to get rid of no matter the government, and he’s probably some energy-sector or banking fuck. I met so many back in my former life that they all blended together after a while. You don’t need to worry about them.” “I might, but that would all depend on what happens during the debriefing.” The satnav instructed Gordon to turn and he did so, pulling into the drive of a house more grand than what was likely all four of their salaries put together. Once the car was parked, they got out and went to the front door as a group, where they were greeted by Walsh herself. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said, ushering them in. Looking over her shoulder, she then shouted into the house, “They’re here, Nick! Four of them!” An unintelligible shout answered her and Walsh brought the guests into an elaborate sitting room, where tea was already laid out. “Sorry about the pretenses, Kate. Nick’s place isn’t exactly what most people would call humble.” “You’ve been able to recoup here—that’s what counts,” Kate replied. “Oh, you remember Fajr Bismuth? She’s now our Head of Security and Surveillance.” “I thought Frank still had a few years left on his contract,” Walsh said, pouring tea. “What’d you do to convince him to step down?” “He didn’t,” Fajr said. She tried to keep eye contact with Walsh, but couldn’t. “Frank Hughes was one of the first people the insurgents killed upon capturing Mainframe UK. I… I couldn’t save him.” “You saved others though, from what I’ve heard, and we can’t fault you for doing all you could,” Walsh said. “He’d be proud to know you’re his successor.” “You think so?” Gordon asked, relief in his voice. “There are some people who are upset that it’s not me.” “Do you want the position?” Walsh asked. “Not yet; eventually, but Fajr was next in line.” “Then let it be Ms. Bismuth.”

AAAHHHHH YEAH THIS BIT more about this bit under the cut.

Have a fic excerpt you want me to break down? Go ahead and let me know!

Okay, so, this bit! I wanted to keep the possibility of Nicola and Walsh being not-related while also teasing it for as long as possible, which brings us to Bismuth being the one who is giving the infodump. If Malcolm did any sort of looking-into Walsh's sister's background then he'd know instantly what was going on, but for now it's just this posh as fuck neighborhood with Walsh going "yeah sorry my sister's place is kinda extra".

'Cause here's the thing: Nicola Murray is rich. She and her husband both have high-paying jobs, can send multiple children to private school, and she seems to have just the right amount of reality disconnect in relation to others while still caring about people to insinuate that she's always been on the wealthier end of things. Shit, it's implied that her husband makes enough that she doesn't have to work, but does anyhow for both self-fulfillment and because she loves helping people. It also wouldn't surprise me if she and/or Mr. Nicola came from money to start, since this is also the UK we're talking about. So yeah. Posh as fuck.

And then Walsh is there! Doing some more misdirection bc Beck and Nick being nicknames for ladies in male-dominated jobs isn't anything, nooooo. I found it really important to me that we expressly lay out Walsh and Gordon's acceptance of Bismuth as the successor to the Security Head's role for a lot of reasons. Here's what we know of Fajr Bismuth thus far:

She is a Zygon.

Her grasp on Human culture is... strained at best.

They just are recovering from the Zygon Insurgency, where Bonnie and Company murdered a bunch of UNIT people including the man Fajr is replacing. The amount of symbolism there is intentional.

She is supposed to be the new Head of Security. So, being in charge of preventing something like that happening again. Everything depends on her loyalty to the Tripartite, which is not exactly something in good standing at that moment.

Her name is awesome but it's also very specifically non-English. It's a feminine Arabic name that means "dawn, beginning", and is a time for observant Muslims to pray during the morning twilight (fajr and four other daily prayers are part of the Five Pillars/Ten Practices of the Religion in Sunni/Shia Islam). Her having a name that can be a Briton's, but is not considered British is symbolic of her status as someone who is stuck between worlds and cultures as someone who might actually be named Fajr would. It is just as intentional. Bismuth just was also an element near [Themba] Astatine on the periodic table that I thought sounded cool with Fajr, since I like giving Zygons elemental names.

So now you've got all of that, and we're in this posh as fuck house, having a conversation with someone who very well could lobby to scuttle the concept of Bismuth having such an amount of power, especially with the resistance that has been seen within the other Departmental Heads. Like, if anyone can make or break this position for Bismuth from within Mainframe UK, it's Walsh. It was her command that was obliterated. She's the one with potentially the biggest stake in that game when it comes to whether another Human heads Security or a member of the extraterrestrial species that caused the entire mess to begin with... and... she... just... accepts once she has all the pieces she needs. You have to remember that Walsh is on a mental sabbatical--once things were over she had a fucking breakdown. Her approval means a lot.

...and Gordon's a good boy he's not gonna fuck this up for Bismuth he knows better than that.

[midnxghtsunwrites]

SMOKESTACKS | 3, BEST FRIEND

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

NADINE WAS ODDLY CALM AS SHE stood by the door of her new classroom, welcoming her students to a new environment. She loves meeting her new kids and she loves getting the chance to learn and grow with them. Most of her morning was spent setting up the tables with crayons and sheets of paper.

Today's agenda: Draw to their heart's content.

It's a good way to break up first day nerves and also for Nadine to get a basic insight on their mindsets and thoughts. It varies from person to person, from a flower to a dinosaur — those are her favorite.

The students are carried in by their parents who seem to either be in a rush to get to work or reveling in the fact that their kids are now in kindergarten. A flurry of mixed emotions floods the room — so much so that Nadine almost misses when the woman from the store last week, Gemma, walks through the doors, a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy attached to her hip.

He looks scared, to say the least.

Gemma scans the room to see the teacher, a smirk growing on her face. She approaches her, evading all other parents, "Surprised to see you here, Ms. Teacher."

Nadine tries not to laugh at her sarcastic tone before shaking her head, "It's good to see you too, Gemma." She glances down, meeting the little boy's shrinking figure. He's latched onto Gemma's thigh, his arms wrapped around it. "And you must be Abel."

Gemma was slightly surprised she even remembered his name, but impressed, nonetheless. Abel shies away, avoiding the teacher's gaze. Seeing this, Nadine stoops down, pulling down her skirt that had ridden up slightly.

"I'm Ms. Parker, your teacher," She tries to break the ice. When that doesn't work, she thinks about what she used to assign seats, "What's your favorite color?"

Abel peeks an eye out to look at the woman, his eyes still doe and wide. He speaks, his voice meek, "Blue."

"Blue?" She gasps, dramatically, "That's my favorite color too." Abel's eyes widen in interest as he faces her completely, "I'll tell you what — there's a chair in that room with your name on it. Guess what color it is."

A smile grows on the little boy's face as he thinks it over, "Blue?"

Nadine gives him an encouraging nod, "Wanna head in there, find it, and get settled?"

Not even a second passes before he releases his hold on Gemma's hand and steps around Nadine to enter the main classroom. With the women now stood in the doorway and students still filing in, Nadine turns to the grandmother to see her about to tear up.

"He'll be fine, Gemma," Nadine reassures her, softly.

Gemma nods, "Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about" Nadine doesn't get a chance to ask her to elaborate before the woman in question quickly changes the topic, "I'll pick him up at three."

The teacher nods and watches as Gemma walks away, commanding the attention of many kids and their parents with her heels sounding against the floor.

THE GROUP OF CHILDREN HAD JUST gotten in from their hour-long expenditure out on the playground. Nadine watched as all of the kids got acquainted with one another and played around the monkey bars, the see-saw, and the swings. She felt content in that moment.

A month of freedom and this is the happiest she's felt in those four weeks.

Now situated back into the classroom, Nadine watches as the kids tweak their drawings from earlier, adding paint and stickers and whatever else they feel they should.

She promised not to look at them until they were absolutely finished and satisfied with their end product. Moments pass before she calls time and begins her walk around the classroom.

"Guys, feel free to share what you drew with your classmates." She announces, watching as the students begin their small chatter with the people sat at their table. She scans the room to see them all talking, until... she catches sight of the familiar blue-eyed boy.

He's sat in one spot, quiet and reserved, still scribbling on his drawing paper. Nadine sends the students she passes small smiles and little compliments based on their pictures before making her way to Abel's table.

"Hey, Abel," She greets him, sending him a smile and receiving one in return. She glances down at his hands seeing as he'd covered his paper with his arm, "What are you drawing?"

The young boy avoids her gaze and slowly moves his arm away, revealing his artwork.

Four stick people line up on his sheet. The tallest one dons what seems to be a jacket — way too big for the figure — but on it, written in scratchy white crayon is the word, 'Sons'. Everything else was unintelligible. The figure in the middle — the shortest, Nadine could assume was Abel, and on the other side of him was another figure, taller than him, but shorter than the one with the jacket, and in that figure's arms is another stick drawing of what seems to be a baby.

"Who's this?" Nadine points to the tallest figure.

Abel looks up at her, "That's my dad. He's my best friend even though I don't see him all the time."

The teacher gives the young boy a sympathetic gaze before moving on. It wasn't her business to pry into his father's life. She points to the figure on the other side of him, "And that's grandma?"

Abel nods, excitedly at how quickly Nadine connected that, "Yeah, she takes care of me and my brother when my dad's at work."

"That's good," Nadine nods, her smile widening at the sight of the twinkle in Abel's eyes, "You guys spend a lot of time together?"

"Yeah, she takes us out for ice cream and sometimes my dad's friends take care of us too."

The teacher doesn't want to ask any more questions — if she does, she's sure Abel will dig his father into a deeper hole than what she has set up in her head. Just from his words now, she can tell his father is absent. But, that's not her business.

She can't allow it to be.

TAGLIST

@gwenspacy @dollyhoess @complacentviawattpad @rosenoirwrites

[c0rpseductor]

ok ok. continued thoughts, once again under a cut, you get the idea of why you might not want to read discussion of lolita. Thanks so much to my high school AP Lit teacher for at no point showing concern about the utter insanity of my choice to read this novel for class beyond that it was difficult to analyze; you helped so much with absolutely nothing, bro!

anyway, since i’ve finished part 1, some of the rational adult thoughts that did not occur to me at 17.

- humbert is deplorable in every way.

- the treatment of his first wife really is ample foreshadowing for, uh, everything about him. he constantly stresses to the reader that he WOULD NEVER RESORT TO VIOLENCE!!!1 yet freely admits to having done so, like, almost immediately.

- there is no way on earth he’s as attractive as he insists he is. hot people do not constantly beg you to remember they are hot.

- dolores’ mother is incredibly distant and hateful toward her, and treats her as competition for HH Dickless. dolores’ FATHER is entirely absent, and as far as i recall the reason for his absence is never really touched on (maybe he’s dead? i genuinely don’t think it was elaborated). there’s already a pattern with charlotte of a refusal to discuss family matters; she never really mentions dolores’ deceased younger brother despite still having photos of him, and iirc it’s never communicated why they moved across the country either.

- dolores, therefore, can only really extract positive attention and affection from HH. kind of surprisingly, despite his being an obvious father figure even before the marriage her first reaction to his presence seems to be immediately to develop a crush on him, or at least this is the claim. this strikes me as really odd, not in the sense of a fabrication by the narrator but in the sense of inappropriate and alarming behavior for a 12 year old girl. later on she starts initiating contact with HH herself, and has a kind of age-inappropriate (but correct) reading of the situation with him as incestuous.

- when charlotte discovers HH’s diary, she is not particularly concerned for dolores. she immediately jumps to anger at his having insulted her, and THEN mentions her daughter SECOND - very notably in the context of extracting dolores from HH as ostensibly a punishment rather than for dolores’ sake. her first move is to plan moving across the country again.

- for all the above reasons my sort of tinfoil hat theory is that it’s possible (if i’m not forgetting the real reason her father is gone) dolores was first victimized by her biological father, perhaps leading to her parents’ separation. charlotte viewed her as competition and developed a serious hatred for her, which was amplified when HH showed up and dolores began to seek attention from him instead of her mother, who also wanted his attention. she was never concerned for dolores’ safety because she blamed her for her victimization. (i think it’s also briefly mentioned dolores’ dad was into some weird shit sexually - it’s left vague but i’m curious whether it was meant to impart to the reader that he was capable of such dark stuff.)

- dolores alternates very quickly between attention-seeking and resentment/anger during the road trip, which is pretty normal for an abused child who has little other recourse in getting attention or care.

- despite HH insisting he would never use force against dolores, the events between when she tells him about her experimentation at camp and directly after the assault are very conspicuously cut out; despite him STILL repeatedly claiming a lack of force, dolores complains of pain and potential injury. she’s frightened of him, but resorts to coming to him for attention later anyway because she’s totally isolated. i might have identified this point when i was younger if i hadn’t had so many brain issues, but this section of part 1 was all completely unintelligible to me on my first read, and i remember later in the novel i was confused as to why dolores mentioned being raped specifically because i couldn’t read this part or derive any sense from it.

- i’m curious as to whether what HH perceives as “nymphetness” in children is maybe some subconscious understanding that they’ve been previously victimized by adults, given i feel like the signs are all there in dolores and it’s explicitly pointed out several times that how he comes to the conclusion is some sort of “sixth sense” that takes into account subtle stuff like body language rather than simply looking at a girl and deciding she is pretty, and because he emphatically states that these children are somehow more precocious. it’s certainly on some level how abusers in real life decide on victims; children who were victimized before are extremely vulnerable and usually easier to victimize again, which is why so many survivors are polyvictimized. i’m not sure any of this was nabokov’s intent, but it strikes me as someone familiar with the experience, and CSA prevention/recovery resources tend to really drill this point into your head vis a vis “precocious” children.

- dolores is of course portrayed in a very oversexed, “adult” sort of way by HH, but you the reader are sometimes briefly reminded that other people who are able to see her outside of HH’s freak gaze just think of her as A Kid. charlotte describes her as homely, and even HH frequently reminds you that dolores refuses to fucking bathe (kind of gross, for a supposed “immortal daemon disguised as a girl-child”). a lot of interpretation and popular response i think revolves around dolores as herself being objectively attractive or vampish, but she is a normal, kind of offputtingly grimy child, who sometimes smells.

[viktorrotkiv]

A Perfect Disaster of a Day

Written for @justwannabeafangirl​ as part of the @b99fandomevents​ Summer 2020 Fic Exchange.

Prompt: Stuck at work on a beautiful day

Read on AO3 // My Ko-fi

The first day of June was perfect. Amy woke up half an hour before her alarm clock was set to ring to find a bright, crisp morning waiting for her on the balcony, where she liked to start every morning. She pulled herself away from the view and into the kitchen, still drowsy, to make a pot of coffee. Pouring herself a cup, she stepped back outside, relishing the warmth. She wouldn’t need her robe around the house for the next few months - unless, of course, Jake decided to freeze them with the AC. Which, if she was being completely honest, she knew he would do. He would also get her a thousand new sweaters to make up for it. For now, though, she was perfectly content with the temperature. In fact, she took off the robe and folded it over the balcony railing. Leaning forward and sipping her coffee, she admired the view. It was incredible. She still couldn’t believe they had managed to score this amazing balcony in New York. Sun rays illuminated every tree, every street mural, every laughing couple in a window. A few clean-white clouds dotted the light blue sky, casting shadows here and there on the still-quiet street below. It was a beautiful day. It was perfect.

“Hey.” Jake stepped onto the balcony behind her. “Where’d you get that delicious-smelling coffee?”

Amy turned to smile at him. “Good morning.” She stepped forward and pressed a warm kiss to his lips, immediately feigning annoyance as he swiped the coffee cup from her hand. “Hey! Don’t steal mine. There’s a whole pot of fresh coffee inside.”

“No, I think I’ll just drink this instead. It’s right here, after all.”

Amy’s upset facade broke immediately and she laughed. Jake could always make her laugh, no matter what silly thing he had done right before. “We have to get out early today. This is the first day of Mac’s first real summer – last year he was too small to notice anything going on, I think. We have to take him to the park, feed the ducks, do cartwheels in the grass…”

“Neither of us can do a cartwheel, Ames. And I doubt our one-year-old can either.” Jake chuckled and slid his arms around her lower back, staring into her eyes. “But you’re right. You always are. We absolutely have to take advantage of this perfect summer day. We’ll tell the Captain we need to step out early, send the babysitter home early…” Jake rested his cheek on his wife’s head and closed his eyes, swaying them in place. “We’ll get ice cream… Teach Mac how to throw a ball… We’ll...”

After a moment of silence, Amy spoke, her voice muffled slightly by Jake’s chest. “Are you falling back asleep?”

“Absolutely. Wake me up in twenty minutes.”

Amy smiled and pulled back from Jake’s hold, laughing when he muttered something unintelligible and reached his arms out to her, eyes still closed. “We should actually go in early if we’re both awake already. Get a head start on the day.”

Jake opened his eyes and smiled at her sleepily. “You’re so smart. Now, where’s that whole pot of coffee you promised me?”

*

Their day at work also seemed to start off perfectly. The Captain had immediately given them permission to leave early.

“I don’t see why not,” Holt had smiled. “It is a beautiful day, you both have light case loads… Enjoy the afternoon with your son.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Jake whispered in a sing-song voice as they were leaving Holt’s office.

Amy, grinning madly, shoved him playfully. “He’ll hear you! Now, listen. No trouble today, Jake. We have to leave early.”

“Oh, but of course, m’lady.” Jake made an exaggerated bow and kissed her hand. “Now go kick ass.”

Amy looked back at him and smiled as she left for her desk. ‘Love you,’ she mouthed.

*

At eleven a.m. it still didn’t look too bad.

Rosa slammed a cup of coffee on Jake’s desk. “Hey. I need a favor.”

Jake looked up at her, worried. “Amy and I are supposed to leave in two hours.”

“Oh, relax.” But her nudging the coffee even closer to Jake had the exact opposite effect. “It won’t take nearly that long.”

“If it’s so short, why are you bribing me?”

Rosa stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away. “I need you to interview someone who came in for one of my cases. It’s unscheduled, or I wouldn’t need you to do this for me, but I have a dentist appointment.”

“Okay, sure. What case is this for again?”

“Jake.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out here, Ro Ro.”

Rosa didn’t even object to the nickname. “Some guy is here to confess to kidnapping his baby niece.”

“Oof, depressing.”

“Yeah. You gonna be okay?”

“Are you kidding? Sounds juicy.”

“Jake.” Rosa stared squarely into his eyes. “Are you going to be okay… hearing about a kidnapped baby?”

Oh, thought Jake, a kidnapped baby. Out loud, he said, “I’m not fragile, just because of some stupid baby currently living in my house and feeding off of my wife’s boobs. And I’m deeply offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Fine.” A grin was on the verge of breaking through Rosa’s face. “Nobody said you were fragile, I just want to know that you can handle this.”

“Always. As long as he can talk fast.”

*

“Sergeant.”

“Hmm?” Amy didn’t look up. She was almost done looking over some paperwork, and the officers often needed her for something technical that required her rank. She was used to helping them while doing her own work.

“Sergeant. I, uh… I think I need your help.”

This made Amy look up. “What is it?”

The officer standing in front of her was relatively new. He had proven to be very competent on his own, so she pretty much left him to his own devices. He hadn’t attracted much negative or positive attention, and she didn’t know him that well. “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but you, uh, you smoke, right?”

“Occasionally.” Amy put down her paperwork and smiled at him. “Calm down, Miller. You can be open with me. What is it?”

“I think I have a problem. I smoke, like, all the time now. It’s pretty much sure to ruin my lungs if I keep going like this for another few years.” The officer chuckled. “I mean, I guess smoking always is. And, uh, most addiction books and— and help groups don’t work for me. I need someone to hold me accountable, someone who knows me personally. And I can’t really ask my family, they live in Pennsylvania, and my roommate has some addictions that are much worse than cigarettes...” He chuckled again and wrung his hands nervously. “I know I’m rambling on and on, but I’ve heard you mention using nicotine stickers, so I know you’ve stopped smoking, and I’d like your help.”

“You want me to help you quit smoking? As in, be your mentor?”

“I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate. This was a stupid idea, I just thought—”

“No!” Amy jumped up. “It’s not inappropriate at all. I’d be honored.”

“Really?” Tim Miller’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Come talk to me tomorrow. I’ll do some research, and we can test out some methods.”

“Thank you, again, so much.”

Amy smiled. Mmm, research… “Of course.”

*

At twelve p.m. it started getting worse.

“Wait, say that again.” Jake could already see their perfect day slipping away. If this case was that serious... It could take forever.

“I’ve decided to come forward because my brother is not a competent parent. That’s why I took my niece to my house. She wasn’t safe there.” They were sitting in an interrogation room. Mr. Thomas had asked to talk privately.

“Sir, can you please elaborate? Why wasn’t she safe?”

“My, uh, my brother drinks, and he forgets to bathe her, sometimes even to feed her. When she cries he either sits her in front of the TV for hours, or he calls me. Her mom’s not in the picture, so it’s just him and the baby, and I’m scared…” The man sighed, put his head in his hands. “My brother isn’t a bad person. He just isn’t a very good parent, and my niece’s safety is more important than anything else.”

Jake leaned forward across the desk. “It’s okay, I understand. You have to do this. And maybe someday your brother will understand too. Right now, though, we need your full cooperation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have to call social services. Since you came to us and reported this, and because you have experience with the child, I can recommend that you be given custody. Only if you want that, of course.”

“Yes, that— that’d be good, I think.”

Jake reached over and put his hand over Mr. Thomas’s. “Good. But this means that you can’t back out. You need to tell us, and social services, everything you know. You can’t step away because you feel guilty or you start getting worried, because then this won’t work, and your brother could take your niece back and never let you see her again.”

“I know. I know. I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary.”

“Okay then. Let’s take your statement.”

*

“Santiago, could you send me that report?”

“Sir?”

“I know it wasn’t due until tomorrow, but I’m sure you of all people already finished it.” Holt had called her into his office, and Amy was starting to panic.

“Actually, sir, I’ve been dealing with a personal matter of one of my officers, and I haven’t had time to finish the report. I was going to do it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to finish it today. The system’s going to be down for a week starting tomorrow and we won’t be able to log any new reports. They only just told me.”

“Oh.” Amy’s chest constricted uncomfortably. Their perfect day… “Alright, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“Again, I apologize. I hope it won’t keep you too long.”

*

At one p.m. Jake was starting to regain hope.

“Rosa!” Jake almost pushed people aside in his hurry to get to her. Rosa was just back from her appointment, and Jake was rushing across the bullpen. He slid to a stop just outside the elevator and started walking back with her to her desk. “Wow, I’m out of shape… Boy, am I glad you’re here.”

Rosa cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You have to take your case back. It turned a bit complicated, he wanted to report his brother, and I promised Amy we would leave now to take Mac to the park.”

“Oh, sure. Just— what did he want to report?”

“He thinks his brother is an incompetent parent. Social services need to be involved. Oh, and I told him we would recommend him to be the guardian, so you have to say that.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. I took his statement. Someone from social services is on their way here to talk to him now, then to see the baby, and then they’ll go see the brother.”

“Wait, Jake, you already called them?”

“Of course. It was urgent. But this case is all yours now.”

“Actually…” Rose dug her nails into her palm, dreading the news she was about to give. “Actually, if you’re the one who called social services, you have to stay here until they arrive and take over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s protocol. And you know how Holt is about those.”

“But— but, Rosa, they said they’d be here in a couple of hours.”

“I know.”

“I have to leave right now!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

*

Amy tried to concentrate on the work, but she felt too guilty. She had promised Jake that they would leave early, and here she was, stuck writing a report that would take at least a couple more hours. And, oh God, she hadn’t told him yet. She stood up so suddenly that at least three different people turned sharply to look at her. Muttering a general apology to the room, Amy pulled out her phone, sent a quick text, and marched toward Jake’s desk.

“Hey, Ames!” In her state of worry mixed with determination, she had almost walked right past the person she was looking for. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

“Actually, me too—” He was interrupted by both their phones chiming. “Why did I just get a text from our babysitter that says, ‘LOL, don’t mind, you guys are the best parents’?”

“Not sure, but so did I. I actually just texted her to say we won’t be early after all, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Amy, you’re confused. I texted our babysitter to say we won’t be early after all. I’m not allowed to leave yet.”

“Oh.” Some of the worry left Amy’s face and she actually smiled a little.

“Guess that’s what made her laugh.” At her confused look, he added, “You know, why she texted us LOL.”

“Oh, that’s what LOL stands for? I thought it was ‘lots of love’.”

“Amy Santiago!” Jake threw his arms wide open. “How old are you?”

“I’m joking, Jake, relax. So, why can’t you leave yet?”

“Rosa asked me to take someone’s statement because she had to go to the dentist—”

“—there’s no way that’s actually where she was going—”

“—obviously not, and turns out this guy took his baby niece because he thinks her father isn’t fit to be a parent. So I called social services, but apparently I’m not allowed to leave until they get here.”

“Yeah. Holt would make you adhere to the protocol.”

“Unfortunately. So why do you have to stick around?”

“I promised one of my officers I would help him quit smoking.” Amy sighed. “And then I did research for that instead of writing a report that was due tomorrow, but now it turns out we need to log it in today.”

“Oh, I heard, they’re taking down the system tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Another sigh. “Guess we won’t get our perfect day today, then, huh?”

Jake put his arms around her. “Guess not. But there’ll be plenty more sunny days. It’s only the beginning of summer.”

*

The social services representative arrived at two p.m.

Jake rushed up to the man and threw his arms around the stranger. “Finally! What took you so long?”

The representative nudged him off with a questioning look. “We have other work. You said the child wasn’t in any immediate danger.”

“She isn’t. She’s at home with her aunt. Speaking of which, here’s the aunt’s husband — actually, he’s the one who’s biologically related to the baby — and he can explain everything. I’m going to go now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Actually, if you’re Jake Peralta, there’s a few things to go over first.”

Jake groaned and slumped forward. “That was more a figure of speech. I was hoping I wouldn't really need your permission. What do you need me for?”

“I just need to make sure we have all of the details we need, and then I can officially take over the investigation.”

Jake spotted someone coming out of the kitchen. “Actually, she’s the one who called you! That’s Jake Peralta right there.”

“Yep, that’s me, Jake Peralta.” Rosa’s imitation of Jake’s voice was as terrible as can be expected.

The representative, tired and bored, wasn’t buying any of it. “Detective, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come with me. You too, Mr. Thomas.”

A hopeful Mr. Thomas and a frustrated Detective Peralta followed the social services representative back into the interrogation room.

*

At four p.m. Amy finally finished typing her report. At four-oh-five she knocked on Captain Holt’s door. “Sir, I’m finally finished with that report. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Thank you, Santiago. I’m sorry your day was hijacked, but you can go home now. I heard your husband is done with his work too.”

“Oh, the representative left?”

“On his way to look at the child now.” Holt looked at his watch. “You know, you could still have a little bit of fun. Sunset isn’t until eight twenty-one p.m.”

“I don’t know, sir. I think we’re both exhausted. Maybe we’ll try again next week.”

“I will not have any of that nonsense.”

“Sir?”

Holt slapped both his palms onto his desk and stood up. “Do you know why I was so eager to approve your request to leave early? It was partly because you are both excellent at your jobs and have enough vacation days left. It is also because I recently took a vacation with Kevin and it was the most fun I have had in months. It’s important to spend time with your partner, and certainly with your child. You are both extremely willing to help others—”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I wasn’t done, Santiago. You are both extremely willing to help your co-workers and you might get held up at work every other time you try to leave early. Look at what happened today! You were trying to do your job as a sergeant, and Peralta was trying to help Diaz, and you missed out on some of your plans. But there is still time today. Take advantage of the few hours left, because you don’t know when the next perfect day will appear.”

Amy staggered back a few steps, reeling from the Captain’s surprisingly passionate speech. “Thank you very much, sir. That was just the push I needed. You’re right. I’ll go find Jake right away.”

“Of course I’m right. Get out of here.”

Amy turned and started to leave.

“Oh, and Santiago?” Holt was actually smiling, for the second time that day. “Have a hell of a time, for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

At four-fifteen p.m., Jake was packing his things to leave. As he picked up his jacket and bag and went to find his wife, she rushed up to him. “Come on. Let’s go. Here, give me your jacket.”

“Um, sure. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to have our fun day. If only I hadn’t called social services on my own…”

“This wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t ready to leave at one, either. And your thing was even more important than mine.” Amy pressed the elevator button. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go home, pick Mac up, and ride the subway to Central Park. You know how he loves the subway.”

Jake smiled faintly. “I do. But, Ames, I thought we gave up on our day. It’s too late now, we won’t get anything done. We’ll just have to find another day.” The elevator dinged open and Jake held his arm out in front of the door. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Amy stepped inside and pressed the ground floor button, turning toward Jake. “There are four hours and…” She checked her watch. “Four more minutes until the sun sets. And there’s light even after that. We’re going to eat ice cream, and buy a cheap inflatable ball that’ll lose all of its air tomorrow, and play catch with our son. It may not be half a day, but come on, we only lost a few hours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ames, really, but I had kind of a depressing case today, especially since the stupid social services man made me listen to all of the details twice, and I think I just need to go home. We’ll have our fun day soon, I promise.” Jake stepped out of the elevator, but Amy stayed inside.

“Captain’s orders.”

“What?” Jake stepped toward her and held the elevator doors open again.

“Captain’s orders. And I quote, ‘Have a hell of a time for me, Santiago.’”

“He did not say that!”

“He did. And I’m not leaving this elevator until you agree to use whatever time we have left to bond with our son.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean. You know father-son bonding is one of my triggers!” Jake’s mood was starting to lift, though. Amy could see it.

“I do know that, because I know everything about you. Which is why…” Amy walked to Jake, cupping his face gently. “I also know that this will be good for you.”

“I thought you weren’t getting out of the elevator until I agreed to go.” Jake pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“You never really had a choice. Also, I’ve made my point and now I’m stepping out of the elevator.”

“You feel guilty about holding it up, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Amy pulled Jake’s arm around her shoulder.”Let’s go.”

*

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys are still going to have a bit of fun today!” Their babysitter gushed when they finally arrived home. “Mac has been missing you guys ever since you went back to work.”

“Aww, come here, buddy!” Jake picked his son up. “You know, you’re going to feed ducks today, and watch your mom fail miserably at doing a cartwheel.”

“Actually, you’re going to watch your dad fail miserably at doing a cartwheel. Thanks, Becca, here’s your money.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s so beautiful out there. It really is the perfect day to go outside.” The babysitter waved at Mac and started to leave.

“Well, it may not have been a perfect day the whole way through, but we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we, Ames?”

“Absolutely.”

The door shut behind Becca, who couldn’t help but smile at how adorable her employers were, and inside, a small family was about to start a perfect day, outside of work.

[wests-wow-gang]

TICKER’S AUDIO RECORDINGS; VOLUME 1

An electronic whirring noise begins booting up. A monotone, robotic voice begins speaking.

“ENTRY ONLINE: REPORTING

UNIT: TREASURE INDICATOR and COMPANION, KINEMATIC ENCODER ROBOT

FORMALLY KNOWN AS ‘T.i.c.k.e.r.’

AUDIO RECORDING DEVICES ENABLED AT THE REQUEST OF Isaac Dawnsedge.”

A past conversation being played through a grainy audio filter is heard.

“Heck yeah! New record!” Isaac’s voice cheerily booms through.

“COMMAND INTERPRETED AS; ‘NEW RECORDING’. RECORDING CAMERA DISABLED. SWITCHING TO AUDIO MODE. MEMORY LIMITED. ONLY STORING KEY MOMENTS.”

The sound of something akin to a cassette tape being switched out is heard.

Audio begins playing. It’s the sound of slight panic. Arguing. Vali and Isaac are having a shouting match in the Golden Keg. Then, a low snarling is heard. Ash’s voice is heard clearly, calling for Isaac in a calm tone. She is heard briefly offering him juice. Isaac’s unsteady breathing is heard becoming more and more stable. Their further conversation is heard. The audio tape then cuts off.

“ISAAC HAS NEARLY GONE FERAL, TARGET MOST LIKELY VALI. 

DETERMINED TRIGGER: STRESS, GENERAL FEELING OF UNEASE AND UNSAFE ATMOSPHERE. 

SUCCESSFUL RESOLUTION: AN IMMEDIATE DOSAGE OF TRANQUILISING MEDICINE.”

Another recording starts. It must be a while after. “Ticker. Pass me the blowtorch, please?” Isaac asks, before a short amount of silence. “I mean, I don’t think they would mind me having a blowtorch. . . And we gotta give you a voice, you know? They’ll understand.” He says, before the sound of sparks begins sounding off. “So!” Isaac calls over them. “Ticker, you up for an adventure?” A robotic arm moving. “Aww, what do you mean, ‘not in particular’? Who wouldn’t be?” More droning. “I mean, I’ve just been thinking. Like, if dad follows through with getting me trained in self defense, we could go wherever we want! Westfall, Ironforge. . . I read about this place called the ‘Sholazar Basin’. It sounds really pretty!” He goes on excitedly, before Ticker seems to interrupt. “I mean, yeah, it could be dangerous. . .” He sighs in defeat. “Alriiiight. . . I’ll hold off for now. Maybe.” The blowtorch stops. “Alright. Try it out now. We’ll see if we can’t hear you now. . .”

The recording stops. “ISAAC’S DEVICE FAILED ONCE MORE, BUT HE SHOWS DETERMINATION TO CONTINUE WITH PRODUCTION. THE DEVICE WILL ALLOW ME TO SPEAK IN COMMON OUTLOUD, MAKING ME MORE ‘ACCESSIBLE’, IN HIS WORDS.”

The audio begins playing once more. It sounds like it’s late at night, with muffled crickets chirping, and the howling wind causing the wood of the room to groan lightly. Isaac’s snoring is heard, while Ticker stands guard somewhere in the room. Isaac begins mumbling in his sleep. “No. . . I didn’t mean to. . .” He groans. “He. . . He was hurting me. . .” His breathing becomes more unsteady. “Don’t. . . Don’t shoot me. . .” That breathing begins turning into a growl, and panting. “You don’t. . . Touch her! . . . Never again!” The sounds of sheets being torn and pillows being tossed is heard. Isaac continues whimpering and growling, and any speaking beyond that point is unintelligible.

“ISAAC, AT THIS POINT, HAS BEEN CONFIRMED TO BECOME ENRAGED IN HIS SLEEP. ADMINISTERING DOSAGE VIA SYRINGE.”

A glass tapping sound is heard, before a moment of silence. Isaac’s growling and hyperventilating slowly returns back to normal.

“ISAAC HAS GONE FERAL, OR A STATE SIMILAR TO FERAL IN HIS UNCONSCIOUS STATE. 

TRIGGER: MORE THAN LIKELY BAD MEMORIES SOMEHOW RETURNING TO HIM IN THE FORM OF BAD DREAMS. SITUATION MUST BE RESEARCHED MORE.”

Another audio tape switches on. Leaves are crunching under Isaac’s paws, and birds are singing. It must be somewhere in the Elwynn Forest. “Ticker. . . What do you think about it?” A robotic whirring. It sounds like Ticker’s hands whenever they speak using sign. “Dude, I mean, if my real family shows up one day. . . If they’re still alive, I mean. Or even looking for me. Or whatever. And if I have a choice, do you think that would be a good one?” More whirring. “Yeah. I already have a dad. And a brother. And Ash and Jiira are kinda like moms.” He sighs, and makes a pondering noise. “Hmmmm. . . I mean, maybe I’d get to know them, but. . .” A questioning whir. “I think I like my current family the best. I mean, I can tell me and Vali might still have some shit to get over. I saw it on her face. She still has something up she’s not telling me. But I still like her. I like everyone there.”

Ticker’s internal voice interrupts, pausing the recording. “Aris: FIGURATIVE FATHER OF ISAAC, DOES NOT LIKE WHEN HE USES LANGUAGE SUCH AS. . .” They list many, many swear words. “. . . AND DAMN. WILL BEGIN TO ENFORCE ‘Family Friendly’ PROTOCOL FROM HERE ON OUT.”

The audio resumes. “I don’t want to lose them, no matter what it means. But if something forces me to leave. . .” The two’s footsteps stop, and the sounds of nature are the only thing between them and silence. “Then I don’t want to put any of them in danger w-with the guards. And I might have to. . . But I don’t wanna go, either. I don’t wanna leave them behind.” He pauses. “Can you promise you won't let anyone get to me, Ticker? That. . . That you’ll do whatever you can to keep me with everyone?” Another whirring of their arm. It’s uncertain whether it was a yes or no, or perhaps another form of reassurance. “. . . Okay. Let’s. . . Let’s get back to the keg. It’s almost dinner time.”

The audio shuts off. “JUDGING FROM HEART RATE, EMOTIONAL REACTIONS, AND FERAL TENDENCIES, I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT Isaac Dawnsedge IS EXPERIENCING A PROLONGED TIME OF HIGH LEVELS OF ANXIETY. HE IS AFRAID. HIS ANXIETY STEMS FROM FEAR OF LOSS, WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY HOPING THAT HE IS NOT THE REASON ANYONE FROM HIS PAST IS INJURED AND/OR DECEASED.” They elaborate, before processing more information. “THIS UNIT WAS CREATED TO DETECT TREASURE, AND TO BE A THERAPEUTIC COMPANION. WITH THE PURCHASE OF MYSELF BY Isaac, IT IS NOW CLEAR HE HAS NO INTEREST IN TREASURE. DIVERTING POWER FROM DETECTION SOFTWARE TO COMPATIBILITY OF INTERACTION.”

A moment of silence, before a -ding!- is heard.

“FOCUS TRANSFERRED.

NEW PRIORITY: KEEP ISAAC SAFE.

SECOND PRIORITY: KEEP ISAAC HAPPY.

THIRD PRIORITY: DETECTING TREASURE STASHES.

FOURTH PRIORITY: DISCOVER HOW DAIRY PRODUCTS ARE CREATED.”

The recording ends there.

[imethimwheniwasavirgin]

This isn’t radical feminist content but I just want to put something out here into the universe in the hope that someone understands. I feel so messed up emotionally and I just want someone to know or talk to me or something, I don’t know. It’s been years in the making.

Four and a half years ago my oldest brother, John, met his future wife, Rina. We didn’t know it at the time, of course, but we fell in love with her and she became the sister I had always dreamed of.

Four years ago my second oldest brother, Mitchell, met his future wife, Daisy. We liked her a bit at first but the things we heard through the grapevine about her weren’t great and the interactions my family had with her were a bit...odd. I have never believed that a woman could epitome the stereotype of a dumb blonde and I hate falling into that trope, but the things that came out of her mouth seemed juvenile at best and nonsensical at worst. To this day I wonder if it’s all an elaborate act or if she really doesn’t understand things. I think she has a lot of childhood trauma that results in that, in her defense, but she does not seek therapy for it and my brother Mitchell likes to have a pretty, unintelligent woman on his arm to stroke his ego.

About four months into Mitchell and Daisy’s relationship, my parents got wind of how they would get drunk and yell at one another in the streets at college, of how Daisy’s tumultuous relationship with her parents meant she was all but living in my brother’s off-campus house, of how little people thought of her. One night she showed up to my brother’s house already drunk and spent the time yelling at him, so he took her into his room and tried to calm her down, and when that didn’t work he locked her in there to sober up. Instead, she opened the window (he was on the first floor) and jumped out, storming back into the house to confront him. I don’t know the exact details of the fight because I wasn’t there, but they didn’t seem to be on a stable path at the time. Following this fight, my dad was adamant that Mitchell and Daisy break up, though he was convinced that this should happen because he thought Daisy would accuse him of rape for locking her in his bedroom. And with my parents pressuring him, Mitchell broke up with Daisy.

The breakup lasted one month and everything started there. John tried to comfort Mitchell about the breakup but Mitchell wouldn’t have his comfort because he was in love with Daisy and hated that John hadn’t liked her. When Mitchell got back together with Daisy my father banned her from the house because if he couldn’t convince my brother to dump her then at the very least he wanted nothing to do with her and the trouble she stirred up. Mitchell stopped coming home for holidays or breaks and spent all of his time in his college house; he drifted away from our family, he began to hate John and Rina because they disapproved of Daisy and because my family loved Rina but disliked Daisy. Every time something positive happened for John and Rina, Mitchell and Daisy wanted to outdo them or do it first.

Two and a half years ago (January 2019), John came to me and said that he wanted to propose to Rina. He was twenty four and out of college, working his current job for over a year already to save up money, and he’d been talking about marrying Rina for months; he had the ring being made at a jeweler and he wanted me to be part of the engagement and our whole family was buzzing with excitement. Mitchell came home around the same time over winter break that year and stayed for only a few hours to tell our parents that he was going to propose to Daisy the next month around her birthday and that they could either accept her or he’d cut them off from him. Our parents were stunned but relented, saying that at the very least he had to wait until after John proposed to Rina since he’d been planning it already and it was unkind to spring this on all of a sudden and take away the celebration from them. That and my parents hoped that Mitchell, who was twenty one turning twenty two the next month, wasn’t graduating college until May, and didn’t yet have a job lined up, would reconsider both his timeline and his bride-to-be, since Daisy had only recently enrolled in community college and had no job and no family support and no future goals.

That March John proposed to Rina and I got to be a part of it, and we all happily went to a small celebration my family threw that evening in honor of them. Three weeks later I was having an emotional breakdown in college and Rina came to comfort me, and after I was calmed down she said, “I just want you to know that Mitchell is going to propose to Rina tonight. John and I only found out last night because Mitchell told all of his housemates and one of them blabbed to us about it. Mitchell only just told your parents today right before he left for the restaurant to propose to her. I just want you to know that it’s going to happen.” And I thanked her and asked that she let me know when it happened because with my family’s behavior at the time I didn’t trust them to inform me.

So she messaged me when it happened. And I heard radio silence from the rest of my family, Mitchell included. People in college who knew him came up to congratulate me and I smiled as I said thank you despite the fact that Mitchell hadn’t even told me. And my mother, who always calls about family news, didn’t call me, though I doubted she was happy about it. In fact, I called my mother the following morning on the bus ride to class to ask why no one had called me and she sounded so tired and defeated about the whole thing that I couldn’t help but pity her, but the way she talked about it made it clear that I had been let fall by the waist side. I remember getting off the phone and walking off the bus to sit in the middle of the city and cry, feeling like I wasn’t important enough for my family to call and clue in on what was happening—that not only was I not included in the engagement (which I didn’t need to be), not only was I not aware it was happening, but no one had even bothered to call me. I felt adrift from my family and it didn’t sound like anyone even cared.

That evening Mitchell came back to college and he and Daisy tried to talk to me about what had happened, but the only thing they could actually do was apologize. But every time Mitchell tried to talk, Daisy intervened and talked with/over him. Every time I looked towards my brother—because HE was the one I was related to and HE should have been the one to call me and HE was the one I wanted to talk to—Daisy had to add in her two cents. And when my brother brought up that he didn’t think I was supportive of their engagement because I had tried to dissuade them from proposing then rather than later (after they had jobs and money and goals), before I could even talk Daisy told me “Sophia, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this, you’ve made it clear how you feel about the subject” and I realized that it didn’t matter what I said because Daisy wouldn’t listen if she didn’t want to hear it. They were going to do what they wanted (which they are entitled to) but my feelings weren’t important enough to factor in and I didn’t rank high on their scale of importance. That was when I decided to distance myself from them and have nothing to do with people who didn’t care about me. I made that very clear to the rest of my family.

About a month later, a week before the holiday of Passover, I found out that Daisy had been invited to join my family for the holiday. Passover is my second least favorite holiday (because of the food restrictions) and I had already been struggling with schoolwork and missing class for the holiday and possibly having to do summer classes in order to graduate, so having to deal with Daisy and her crap was irritating on top of all of that, plus that my mother (who always got excited about company and informed everyone as soon as she knew) had intentionally kept this a secret from me despite knowing how I felt about it. Having only found out six days in advance I called up my father and said that I could deal with our family’s long holiday meals and Daisy and Mitchell, so I could either come home but eat meals with friends, come to town and sleep at a friend’s but visit during the day, or stay in college. And my father, who missed me dearly, said that it would be better if I stayed in college because my mother would have a harder time if I was close and didn’t want to be with the family. I felt sad not being able to see him and my family but agreed that that was probably for the best.

The next day I called my mother up and told her that I had decided to spend Passover in college after having found out about Daisy and Mitchell and my mother was unhappy to say the least. She was affronted that I was shunning her and the rest of my family because of my personal dislike of someone, and no matter how much I tried to express that I felt upset and uncomfortable around Daisy and Mitchell and how they were treating me (and how that in addition to my other stresses was too much), my mother was adamant that I hadn’t given her enough advance notice and that it was cruel to tell her so little in advance. I tried to express that I had only just found out and that she had intentionally kept all of this from me so I couldn’t have known prior, but my mother was upset. She told me to “have a good day” and hang up. Every conversation we had had up until that point had ended with “I love you”. She was mad, she was hurt, so I understood. I decided to give her some space.

The rest of the week I kept thinking about her and that conversation. I wanted to message her but felt that she needed some breathing room. We’d talked on the phone Monday morning so on Wednesday when I was in class and saw that I had a missed call from her, I immediately leapt to excuse myself from class and call her back. No reply. I texted her to say that I was trying to return her call and asked if everything was okay, and I got an immediate response back saying “it was a buttdial” and nothing further. I figured she was still upset. The next night I saw the full moon in the sky as I was walking back from the library and thought of my mom because she loves to look at the full moon and always calls me outside to see it with her—so I texted her just that and told her that I loved her. Several hours later I received a reply that read, “I took out the trash tonight and saw the moon and thought of you.” I’m sure she didn’t intend it that way but her response just made me feel like she was associating me with trash. The next day I called my father before the holiday (we don’t use our phones on holidays because of religious observance) and in conversation asked if I should call my mother or if she was still mad; he said better safe than sorry to call her. I was exhausted and passed out right after that call but woke up several minutes before Passover started and called the home phone. When my father picked up I asked him to put my mother on and she said, “What is it Sophia? I have to go, Passover is starting” and hung up. The entire phone call, from my father picking up to my mother talking to me, lasted under a minute. There was still time. She could have at least wished me a good holiday but she didn’t. I figured she was still mad.

The next Monday, after the first days of Passover, I called my mother up to ask how her holiday was going, and we had a pleasant, genial conversation. As it progressed I told her, “Mom I feel like what I said to you last week upset you and all week I’ve felt like you’ve been ignoring me as a result. Can we talk about that?” and everything exploded. My mother jumped down my throat about how that was on me for feeling that way because she loves all of her children but I didn’t love my family enough to get over my problems with Daisy and Mitchell. That I didn’t care about my family. That I was the reason my older brothers don’t get along. That I was the reason our family is falling apart. That it was my fault for feeling upset because that’s not how she treated me.

It didn’t matter how many times I apologized to my mother on the phone—she said that I didn’t love her enough. It didn’t matter how many times I told her that the way she was speaking to me and how she’d ignored me had made me feel worthless—she said that she didn’t do that and that I had chosen to feel that way. It didn’t matter that I was hyperventilating by the end. She told me that she had intentionally not told my father that I was coming home because she knew he’d be upset about it and “you keep secrets from the ones you love to protect them” and that on Friday she’d been waiting for him to ask where I was so that she could say “Sophia chose not to come home”. She admitted that to me and made me feel like I had forced her hand. Her berating of me ended when I said “I love you mom but I don’t feel loved right now and I can’t do this right now. I love you” because I remembered how hurt I’d been the week before when she hadn’t told me she loved me and I didn’t want her to feel like that. Rina came to comfort me after the fact because I could barely breathe from crying and an ongoing anxiety attack, and she urged me to tell my dad what had happened. My dad’s response? “This is your mother. What did you expect?”

That was when I decided to cut things off with my mother. No one should be treated the way she treated me, scapegoating me for things that weren’t my fault and unloading her frustrations onto me, and I finally could take a step back and realize that that has characterized our entire relationship. I am her only daughter and I have spent my life feeling like a burden, watching my mother be burdened by her life as a housewife and mother, and trying to unload that burden, and I have always been an easy target. My family doesn’t apologize either—a week after this last conversation with my mother she sent me a text saying “I noticed I haven’t texted you in a while so I guess you were right I was avoiding you”. That was her apology. I didn’t respond.

The semester ended almost two months later and my dorm kicked me out. I spent a week squatting on people’s couches rather than return home to my mother, trying to wait out the days until my off-campus house lease started. My mother tried to reconcile with me and I laid down and let her, because that felt easier than fighting her, especially with John and Rina’s wedding fast approaching and my need for a bridesmaid dress became more apparent. We talked on the phone and “reconciled” but I’ve never gotten over how our reconciliation consisted of me calling her out and her gaslighting me to invalidate my feelings or pretend things hadn’t happened as I said.

Then John and Rina’s wedding came and my boyfriend and I tried to leave my parents’ house afterwards at 12:30am to return back to his parents’ house and my parents told me that I couldn’t leave because it was too dangerous and that I would regret it. We left anyways because my boyfriend began to feel trapped in my parents’ house and all I could think was that if we got into an accident on the drive I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling my parents. When my mother came to pick me up the following evening she didn’t say a word after I got into the car and tried to program the GPS singlehandedly rather than asking me to do it for her. She almost crashed the car because she was so annoyed at having to pick me up and I spent the entire car ride in terror at that. And when we got home I fled to my bedroom in fear and anger, and my parents proceeded to be angry at me for being childishly insolent, because I couldn’t express why I felt upset without being gaslight or made fun of.

And it’s been two years since and my family has been pressuring me over and over again to get over everything. To stop tearing the family apart since I never go home and my mom is depressed about me wanting nothing to do with her. To stop destroying my mother’s life. I called up my aunt a few months ago to ask how she was doing and she chose to put in her two cents about my relationship with my mother and how I was horrible for what I was doing to her sister—and it is one thing to know that you rank lower in someone else’s eyes but it’s another thing entirely to have them confirm it. I called up my youngest brother James to say hello and he used it as an excuse to segway into a conversation about how now that I’ve graduated I could easily have a bedroom to live in if I just made up with my mother and came home. My brother Mason went on a walk with me and kindly told me that I’m misremembering things and that no one else was “abused” by our mother so it wasn’t actually like that, and when I turned to my sister-in-law Rina in tears she told me that I was tearing my family apart and that if her child didn’t want anything to do with her she’d probably kill herself.

I’ve been staying with John and Rina in their apartment because I have nowhere else to go. I left their apartment in tears and ended up in the park sobbing, sitting in the wet grass as it began to rain and talking on the phone with my boyfriend because I was fighting down the urge to walk a block over to the railroad tracks and beg a train to run me over and end it; I was fighting the urge to bang my head against a tree until I passed out or bled out. Two random joggers came over to check up on me, one directing me to where she was going in case I needed a ride home or needed to get away. I called the National suicide hotline for the first time tonight, it was so bad. For years the way my family invalidates me and hurts me has made me suicidal because I feel like killing myself will be the only way they take my problems seriously and the only way to stop the pain, but I’ve never come close to acting in those thoughts until tonight. I don’t know that I want to die but I want it all to be over. I want it all to end.

I feel like it’s never going to stop. They’ll always make me feel like this. It’ll always be on me to cave in and be hurt for the good of the family. I hate it I hate it I hate it and I hate them for doing this to me. And my mother has let me have the space I asked of her but everyone around her has been pushing and pressuring me because of their own misguided belief that they’re helping but it makes me hate my mother more and more. I hate her and I hate how pitiful she is because I am only just learning to be strong and everyone thinks that means that I am okay and now I have to fix her. I hate her I hate her I hate her. I want to scream at her, I want to punch her in the face hard enough to get her to stop wanting me. I want to call 911 and get her a therapist so everyone will stop making her my problem. I want to hurt her and make everyone aware of it but I don’t do any of that because I know that’s the wrong thing to do.

I don’t know what to do or what to want. I feel like I’m suffocating in her even though she’s not here.

[g2slade]

Book Review: Hitman : My Real Life In The Cartoon World of Wrestling by Bret Hart

I’m not even sure where to start on this one. Despite the book being over 500 pages, I was able to finish it just a few days reading between work days, on airplanes and sitting at home in bed, while my beautiful wife Jess read her own book. I’ll start by saying that Bret Hart was my overwhelming favorite wrestler, when I was a child/teen deeply engaged in following professional wrestling/sports entertainment. Although money was not always plentiful for us growing up in the country, I talked my mom into purchasing Wrestle Mania X on pay per view, just so I could see Bret’s epic day of losing to his brother Owen, in a classic match, and then winning his second reign as WWF Champion to close the show against the mammoth Yokozuna. It was the single greatest wrestling show I had ever seen up to that point, surpassing Wrestle Mania VIII, where Bret’s win over Rowdy Roddy Piper made me a fan for life. The Hitman was cool. He was strong. He was a hero on the screen and at that age, I believed he was a hero off of the screen. I’m not sure who said it, but I know there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. Although reading his autobiography is not technically meeting him, it does open the window into his inner thoughts and showcase his life in a manner I would have never seen watching weekly wrestling programs. This story was in some ways a bitter sweet adventure for me as a huge fan of the Hitman character. I suppose I shouldn’t correlate Bret Hart the man with Bret “Hitman” Hart the wrestling character, but unlike normal television shows and movies, where our favorite actors are seen in numerous and very different roles throughout the span of their careers, wrestlers, especially the successful ones, typically portray one gimmick for many years and typically hide their actual lives and personalities from the screen. This is not as true as it used to be, but in the 90’s, kayfabing, or pretending wrestling was real, even outside of the shows, was widely practiced by everyone in the industry. With such elaborate effort given to maintaining the reality of wrestling storylines, many of us fans simply accepted the characters on screen to be actual people. This book shatters any notion I ever had of Bret “Hitman” Hart being deserving of a hero’s treatment. I suppose, when you break it down, one should probably not have a hero, as everyone is going to eventually let you down in the end in some way or another. It’s best to accept that nearly everyone has good and bad in them and that we as individuals are no different. We have our good traits and our bad traits. Onto the book! First of all, whomever made the decision to publish this book as it was eventually published should be labeled as incompetent. Even ignoring the typos that litter at least the Kindle edition, the book comes off like a massive ego trip written by a paranoid and delusional old man. At what point did the editors and others reviewing this book not protest to Bret to change the tone of nearly the entire book? I would hope that if I ever attempted to publish such a one-sided rant about my life that someone would have the decency to fight me on it until cooler heads prevailed. Throughout the entire 500 plus pages of this book, Bret paints a portrait of himself as a heroic, never wrong but always misunderstood and mistreated savior of the numerous inept and timid people surrounding him throughout his entire life. There is not one time in the book, save for when he talks about his father, that Bret gives anyone 100% credit for their own accomplishments or takes 100% responsibility for his own misfortune. If Freud were alive, he could fill up a decade trying to map the enormous ego that is spilling off of every page of this book. Time after time, Bret’s opponents in the ring only had good matches because Bret was there to guide them. Had he not been the genius he was, all of these people, from Dynamite Kid all the way to Ric Flair himself could not pull off decent matches. Time after time, any good angles (storylines) of Bret’s career were his ideas and the promoter was smart enough to listen to his wise guidance. Every time he was in a less than stellar match or an angle that didn’t make sense, it was the fault of the promoter or the guy he was wrestling. Reading this same tale over and over again through the account of his 23 year career made me realize just why it’s so easy to go online and find hours, literally hours, of former wrestlers bashing what is was like to work with Bret Hart. He seemed to not understand that he was the very embodiment of everything he was complaining about with other wrestlers. He was way too caught up in the Hitman character, trying at every turn to protect and promote his own image. Even during a conversation with Vince McMahon, within a day or two of his youngest and favorite brother, Own Hart, tragically dying in a gruesome accident during a wrestling show, Bret’s focus was on not Owen, but asking Vince to let Bret have the rights to Hitman’s video library so his character would not be erased. This is not from Vince’s mouth, but from the pages of Bret’s own autobiography. This is sad in two ways. One in how whoever edited this let Bret portray himself as such a self-centered egomaniac, and two in that Bret seemingly did not think this inappropriate at all. He only expressed anger about the conversation later on, when Vince stated he wasn’t going to give Bret the video library. It baffles me that anyone close to Bret would allow him to publish this story and paint himself in such a light. The massive ego trip unfortunately did not stop with Bret’s in ring career, but expanded to his place in the Hart family. To hear Bret tell it, he was the only intelligent sibling out of Stu and Helen Hart’s twelve children. Everyone else was either untrustworthy, unintelligent, weak or nearly evil. Bret, according to Bret, was not only the savior of every single wrestler he ever worked with, but he was the saving grace of the entire Hart family. He painted his siblings and in laws of being jealous of Bret’s success over and over again. I am sure that Bret’s stories have some grounds of actual truth, but as long as I’ve lived, I’ve never met someone so saintly in his own mind that I didn’t find to be full of it. Bret’s priority was and seems to still be Bret. Every match on the card had to in some way make his character look good, or else Bret thought it was wrong. Bret could not accept doing matches that he didn’t think would be good for his story arc or his career. Somehow, the only way Bret could ever make anyone else look good, was to also make himself look good. Even when he agreed to lose matches, he made a point of saying the logic was wrong for his character. It crossed the line of annoying so many times throughout the book. None of the points above even start to dive into how spoke of his marriage and his affairs. From reading Bret’s words, he would have you believe that his wife should have been happy he was cheating on her in nearly every city he ever wrestled, because it kept him from becoming a drug addict. I swear I couldn’t make this stuff up, even if I wanted to tear Bret down. All of the above points can be found in the book at any time. Now, with all of what I said above, I do believe that Bret should be given some room for the benefit of the doubt here. That’s not because I think he wasn’t wrong, but because he didn’t write this book until after a career ending concussion and life threatening stroke reduced his body and his mine to that of a paranoid and frail shell of his former self. It would not surprise me if Bret was diagnosed with something nearing PTSD. The book reads like the rants of someone that has lost their objective view of reality. Sad as this sounds, it would be sadder to think that this is how the man truly views himself and everyone around him. To save the image of Bret I carried since I was 9 years old, I’d rather chalk this story up to his mental damage than think he is the biggest jerk in the history of wrestling and almost in life. I still give the book a high rating, however, because I was such a huge fan of the Hitman my entire life. It was gloriously nostalgic to be taken back through the journey all over again from Bret’s point of view, skewed now as it is. If I could give any message to Bret Hart, it would be this. Quit worrying about your character’s legacy and focus on being a better person to everyone that help to make you the successful and international star that you are. The Hitman is permanently branded into the history of professional wrestling. No promoter, not even Vince McMahon himself can erase that. Stop making a life of bashing others, mend fences, and take some responsibility for the things that happened to you.