#anyway it's been like 2 years and i'm STILL suffering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sortagaysortahigh · 20 days ago

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Nobody Gets Me | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Heyyyyy sexies...so don't be mad but I'm in my angst bag, this is giving Hurt/no comfort and I'm not sorry! I've been in my emo era so EVERYONE SHOULD SUFFER TOO!!! ugh anyways, i might do a pt 2 with a happy ending eventually, but I present: Divorced exes to something hopeful?? HURT!! WOOO HOO! Also, I did give Joaquin a sister for this universe specifically (hopefully i continue it </3) Everyone say thank you to @love-chx for beta-ing this and apologize to her for not having a happy ending <3

Summary: Getting married young had it's risks, unfortunately for you and Joaquin, that marriage didn't work out, it's been years since you've been in contact, so why do your hearts still ache?

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort NO HAPPY ENDING!, OOC joaquin (he's mean, jealous, exhausted fr), the Blip </3, john walker jump scare!, SAM BUCKY SUPREMACY!, heartbreak, angst, failed relationships, divorce, mentions of joaquin's accident, spelling and grammar errors (we all know who I am atp), a lot of crying, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of sex (no smut/sex depicted). dual perspectives? switching b/w joaquin and reader??? idk im sorry if its all over the place

Word Count: 10.4k (of sadness)

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader (THEY'RE DIVORCED GOD DAMNIT! Reader also has long-ish hair/hair long enough to braid with 2 white stripes by her ears (this holds a future plot purpose </3)

Joaquin baby I'm so sorry for the angst i put you thru in this but maybe next time, do better! </3

Joaquin Torres is amazing at his job, he easily worked his way up in rank during his time in the Air Force, as a Lieutenant he met Sam Wilson, who he would eventually work very closely with and even consider family. It was a no-brainer when Joaquin had become a Captain, and while working side-by-side with Captain America, he was also able to take on the mantle of the Falcon.

He poured his all into his job, and from the outside looking in, he loved every second of every day. Joaquin was always positive, always putting on a happy face, always committed to making sure everything was going smoothly and that everyone was alright at all times.

He truly was a hero in every sense of the word—at least to the public.

After his accident in the Indian Ocean near Celestial Island, he’d spent months in physical therapy and rehab, pushing himself past his limits, working harder and harder with the end-goal of getting back into the sky.

It was accomplished after one year and three months.

One year of long days and even longer nights. A year and three months of being on the ground and being reminded of everything he’d swallowed down, all of the pain, all of the hurt, he did his best to ignore the ache and emptiness in his heart. But when he couldn’t drown himself in work and distract himself with the literal thrill of the skies, all of that bottled up emotion was bound to overflow.

That’s also around the time that he resorted to one night stands. He’d always hated one night stands, not because he didn’t enjoy the sex, but because sex without a genuine emotional connection was never enough for him. If anything, the random hookups had him spiralling even more.

His physical therapist had also told him several times that he shouldn’t have been partaking in any ‘strenuous activity’ which happened to include sex—or at least the kind of frustration fueled sex he was having.

She’d eventually referred him to an actual therapist, who he avoided like the plague, purposefully missing meetings every other week to force the therapist to schedule him bi-weekly. Opening up to a complete stranger was hard enough, but having to provide a co-pay to be questioned about his lackluster decision making and emotional trauma was a lot on him.

Especially after the incident in the ocean.

The therapist had recommended he spend more time with his friends, which he did for a while, and it worked the first few months. Catching up with friends on and off base, but traveling back home to Miami was what had sent him into a downward spiral in the fourth month of his recovery.

Joaquin Torres has always been a family man, he spent his childhood telling his abuela about how excited he was to grow up one day, get a beautiful wife, and have his own little family. As a teenager, he admittedly did have two pregnancy scares with his then girlfriends, except each time he was fully committed to being a father, even at sixteen.

He didn’t exactly love his exes, but he loved the idea of being a father, and he knew that one day, he would be. At seventeen Joaquin had only hoped he’d be married and not screwing anything on legs before having a kid.

The day he’d flown back to Miami he expected his sister to pick him up from the airport. It wasn’t a shock to see Ximena there, clearly on the phone with someone, however when he heard his ex-wife’s name slip past her lips, he was overcome with a sense of nausea that he hadn’t felt since the day in court when his divorce had been finalized.

Joaquin Torres hated telling people that he was divorced, being a divorcee at the age of twenty-nine wasn’t exactly the biggest green flag in the world. Nor was it something he was proud of. It’d been three years since the divorce was finalized, three years that he’d been drowning himself in work and a faux sense of positivity to ignore the rage and hurt he felt deep down.

She’d muttered a series of apologies for being there, stating that her husband couldn’t make it, before mumbling some excuse to Joaquin while simultaneously hanging up the phone.

He couldn’t be mad at his sister, not for having a best friend, even if that best friend was his ex-wife.

You and Ximena Torres met in the fourth grade, quickly bonding over a shared love of seashells. That bond quickly spiraled into running around the playground hand-in-hand while scaring the fifth grade boys—one of which being her older brother Joaquin.

The two of you hadn’t gotten along until your sophomore year of high school, when your then-boyfriend cheated on you and left you sobbing under the bleachers as if it was the end of the world. (To your fifteen year old self, it was the end of the world). Ximena was comforting you, and eventually, she managed to convince Joaquin and his friends to ‘go scare’ your ex-boyfriend and the group of guys he hung around with.

Joaquin was on the soccer team at that point, and he also knew several of the football players as they all did winter track and field together, so the fist fight that broke out two days later was a no-brainer.

The day you’d stormed into his house, quickly greeting his Abuela before rushing up to his room, slamming the door open and kicking his then-girlfriend out before cursing him out for thirty minutes while ranting about how ‘wildly wrong’ it was to ‘organize a fucking royal rumble’—your words not his—had marked the beginning of your friendship.

That friendship would later develop into something else when you complained about lacking a date to your senior prom. He’d been home from bootcamp and had a month before getting deployed overseas, so he simply shrugged and said he would take you.

Prom night Joaquin had taken your virginity, or rather, you’d given it to him on a silver platter.

From there, things just flowed naturally. He’d taken you on a few dates the month before deployment. During his first eight month deployment you’d written to him constantly, and those letters, plus photos, and occasional phone calls, gave him something to look forward to when he got back home.

He left for deployment in June, then came back in January of the following year. He was actually stationed in Florida, closer to Florida State University where you went to college. Although he hated FSU on the principle that he would always be a Miami fan, he had no issue in visiting you on campus. The both of you were casual for the latter half of your freshman year.

Then that summer he asked you to be his girlfriend, ‘in the official sense’—his exact words being ‘well, we’re always together, and I really like you, and you really like me, so will you be my girlfriend in the official sense because you’re already my non-official girlfriend’.

At that point he was twenty and you were around nineteen. The both of you dated consistently for two years before he proposed to you the week before Christmas on the beach. You’d obviously said yes, squealing in excitement as he slid the ring on your left finger.

The wedding happened four months later, it wasn’t anything major, something small on a private beach, but at the time, in 2016, it was the best day of both of your lives.

The following two years were amazing, at least until the Blip happened and Thanos had managed to snap half of the universe’s population away. Joaquin was lucky that he and his wife hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the Earth. But life got harder much faster than expected.

Work was difficult, the sense of impending doom never really disappeared, not when dread was so common amongst global leaders. There were a few positives of the Blip—well, positives if you ignore the long lasting repercussions after the Avengers had reversed the Blip. Homelessness had found some sense of a ‘cure’, politicians using the available resources to make themselves look better, and to finally do something about the hundreds of thousands of people living on the streets and starving worldwide.

The first year of the Blip, things weren’t horrible. Not between you and Joaquin, or on a global scale. The sudden surge of resources did have some positive outcomes, however, the resources also led to a growth in greed. The greed led to a downward spiral on a global scale.

Sure, the global economy might’ve been great from a corporation-based standpoint, but day-to-day life for regular people wasn't.

Job hours got longer, the price of items did increase, inflation was actually an unpredicted issue for a lot of nations, then of course was the need to expand and grow militaries to account for the loss in actual soldiers and enlistments. That directly impacted you and Joaquin, to the point that you had to uproot your life in Florida and move to the West Coast.

Prior to the Blip, Joaquin had been deployed two additional times, one before you were married for six months, and a second for eight months the year after you’d gotten married. Both deployments were overseas, and each time he’d come home, he wouldn’t leave your side for days.

Following the Blip, Joaquin was never home, or never at the house that you’d purchased off base in California. It wasn’t a bad house per-say, it just wasn’t home. It lacked any real warmth, and it felt like it was draining you. It was difficult to find work as a journalist and publicist, not because there wasn’t anything to be done, but because you freelanced, and during the Blip, major news outlets and magazines weren’t looking for freelance writers.

That also led you to working on base, which should’ve brought you and Joaquin closer together, but it did the exact opposite. Especially when he’d see other Lieutenants flirting with the ‘pretty new media relations’ girl, you usually smiled and laughed it off, doing your best to keep your job.

However, Joaquin Torres was the jealous type, and when you’d both get in fights at home about it, he’d constantly say that you were flirting, that you were feeding into it, as if you had asked for men to flirt with you during your day job.

His job was beyond stressful, which also led to him always being irritable, that combined with the grief that both of you were feeling over the loss of family and friends following the snap.

You and him both were shells of who you once were before the Blip.

The blip had lasted five years, your marriage was over by the third. It wasn’t until the Blip was reversed that you’d both finished fighting one another in court.

Prior to that, you’d been sleeping in different rooms, and acted more like roommates that tolerated one another rather than husband and wife.

Once the divorce was finalized, Joaquin stayed in California while you went home to Miami. He hadn’t heard from you since, and he had no idea where you actually had been, considering you were never big on social media, and now it was like you were nothing but a ghost from his past.

He did his best to ignore the nausea in his stomach after hearing your name, it wasn’t just your first name, no it was your full name, as if you’d said something so outrageous that Ximena was yelling at you over the phone while laughing.

Joaquin knew you were still friends with his sister. He’d never hold that against you, but it did hurt.

During his time in Miami, he did his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts, telling him to call you, or to reach out to your family, or to figure out where the hell you’d actually gone, or who you were now. It’d been three years, three years since he’d seen you, three years since he’d heard your real actual voice, not just the recordings and videos on his phone and laptop.

With his skillset, he knew he could’ve found you, but you didn’t want to be found, that much was clear to him.

Whenever people would ask about you, he’d just laugh it off, shrug, and force a smile. He was so used to being positive all the time that he easily slipped into that persona, most people had never seen him irritated, and he liked it that way.

Then he ran into your mother at the grocery store, she pulled him into a hug with a wide smile and started talking his ear off, asking how he was, congratulating him on becoming a ‘real superhero!’, then she’d gone on a tangent about you. That’s how he found out you were in Washington D.C. working directly under James Buchanan Barnes.

The same James Buchanan Barnes that Sam Wilson was best friends with, and the same person that he’d assisted in taking down the Flagsmashers. He’d seen Bucky several times over the past few years, and never, not once, did he see you.

So he knew you were avoiding him. It wasn’t just a weird sense of paranoia, no, Joaquin knew you. He knew you like the back of his hand, he knew the best parts of you and the worst, and he was absolutely positively sure that you’d been avoiding him.

He also knew that both Sam and Bucky most likely had no knowledge of you being his ex-wife, or even of Joaquin himself being married at one point. It was more likely than Bucky knew, mostly because getting the level of security clearances needed to work for a Congressman required several in-depth background checks.

Joaquin feigned happiness as your mother spoke to him, and as soon as he could, he got the hell out of there.

Slowly, but surely, his composure cracked. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy anymore with nothing but optimism. The thread of pessimism within him was unraveling, and he found himself slipping into a never-ending anger.

He used that anger to push through the next few months of his recovery once he was back in Washington. He went on a strict diet, stuck to his training plans, and started pushing himself even more, striving to go back to being the Falcon, to find some sense of purpose, and something to drown himself in.

The only vice he truly had was the lackluster one night stands. It was never enjoyable, but he needed to let off some steam, so he’d go to some of the bars in D.C., flirt a little bit, and go back to someone’s place with them, slipping out in the early hours of the morning without a word. It worked for him, or at least, he told himself it worked for him.

He also told himself he wasn’t going for women that reminded him of you—which was a definitive lie.

Eventually, once he was back in the sky, back running drills, back working on his flips, kicks, and spins he stopped with the unhealthy coping habits. He’d even gotten a new suit from the Wakandans, a gift from M’baku himself after Sam had told him about Joaquin’s accident. The suit was carbon black, had some green detailing, and it was constructed from vibranium, the same vibranium that absorbed kinetic energy and released it.

Joaquin had never felt more unstoppable with the mantle and new suit.

But with the whole ‘New Avengers’ fiasco occurring in New York, Sam had been stressed, and he’d been doing his best to work with Bucky, trying to find some kind of work-around to the ever-present legal issues associated with there being two Avengers groups.

When he got the call that they were headed to the renovated Avengers compound in Manhattan, part of him was excited to finally see the place, but the other part of him was dreading the possibility of seeing his ex-wife. He didn’t know if she still worked for Bucky, and he never bothered to ask, he hadn’t even brought it up again after speaking with your mother.

He was tense on the flight to New York, and when Sam tried to pry it out of him, he lied about having a stomach bug.

By the time that Joaquin and Sam had arrived at the tower, it was nearly seven and the sun was setting. Admittedly, the place was nice, a bit too modern for him, but nice either way.

He followed Sam’s lead, mostly because he had no idea how to navigate the tower and getting lost wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do. But the second the elevator doors opened, he heard your laughter, a series of loud, high pitched, wheezy laughs and giggles that he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago.

Sam’s brows knit together as he looked at Joaquin, then he looked around the elevator and into the large common space. “You alright kid?”

Joaquin blinked a few times, nodding his head, snapping out of his daze as he looked at Sam. “Uh-uh yeah sorry, I just, zoned out—nothing to worry about. Anyways, where's Bucky?” he was talking too fast, the composure he’d worked so hard on building up easily crumbled. Then he heard your laugh again followed by ‘Wait! Stop—put me down Parker!’.

He must’ve been on fire, that would explain the heat raging throughout his body.

Sam shrugged him off, motioning for Joaquin to follow him as he made his way towards the commotion, Bucky easily spotting them, standing from his front row seat to your ‘fight’ with Peter.

Joaquin quickly followed, jaw clenched as he finally spotted you. You looked so different while also looking just like yourself. Your hair was longer now, pulled into two thick braids trailing from the top of your head, down your back. It also had two large white streaks near your ears, which was different—but then again, Joaquin had been shaving his face religiously because the thought of your compliments on it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He noticed the way you smiled, wide and full of life. A look he hadn’t seen in so long, a look he missed desperately, every single day.

When Peter Parker finally put you down, you laughed again, shaking your head as you sat up, still not noticing Joaquin’s presence. But Joaquin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It was clear that you’d been much happier and healthier, having put on some weight—but it wasn’t bad—the opposite really.

The last time he’d seen you, you were stressed, exhausted, and that reflected in your features and body. You’d never been super skinny, and he loved that about you—at one point he loved everything about you—but the years leading to your divorce, you’d dropped weight at an unhealthy pace from the long days and even longer nights.

His eyes traced your entire figure from top to bottom, noticing the small things you’d changed as well. The few new tattoos and piercings stuck out to him, the small gold rings on both sides of your nostrils, and the alligator tattoo on your leg were very apparent. Joaquin also tried to ignore the faded Air Force t-shirt you had on, it was clearly his, and he remembered the shirt well.

Then you finally turned and noticed him. Eyes widening at the sight of Joaquin, and he kept his eyes on you the entire time.

Everyone seemed to notice the shift in the room, well everyone except for Sam and Bucky who were too busy talking amongst one another about a few legal documents, and Sam throwing in several of his typical ‘anti-government’ remarks.

It was as if time was frozen.

You blinked a few times, eyes on Joaquin—your Joaquin.

The same man that you’d loved and hated at one point in your life, you weren’t even sure how you’d felt about him now, but you did know one thing, you had done your very best to avoid him at all costs. Sure, you knew one day it would probably bite you in the ass, but you hoped that was years from now.

Then again, you knew there was a risk when you’d taken the job as Bucky Barnes’s media relations secretary. This was your wheelhouse, you specialized in media relations and journalism, you would’ve been a complete idiot to decline the job.

But now, it was as if karma was coming to kick your ass.

You stared at him, unmoving as you processed seeing him again for the first time in almost four years. He looked different, more mature in a way that you hadn’t expected. He still had that boy-ish charm, but he looked older, stronger, and sturdier.

He still shaved his face, something you always told him to stop doing. Constantly telling him he looked good with facial hair, making sly comments and innuendos in public, giggling whenever he’d pull you into him, burying his face into your shoulder, covering any inch of exposed skin in gentle kisses as you laughed trying to shove him away.

But now he had a very visible burn scar along the right side of his neck, clearly stretching to his shoulder. You knew about his accident, and you’d been traveling with Bucky during that time, having sat in the waiting room while he spoke with Sam.

Part of you wanted to see him, desperately, but you couldn’t do it.

Bucky had asked you several times, stating that he ‘just wanted to make sure’, but each time you politely declined, shaking your head.

The Joaquin you were seeing now wasn’t your Joaquin, not anymore at least.

You knew something was off about him, his eyes weren’t as bright anymore. Then again, neither were yours. Heartbreak and grief had the tendency to suck the joy out of things.

“You alright Lightning?” you blinked a few times, registering Peter’s voice, nodding your head as you finally glanced back at him, then after clearing your throat, you gave everyone an awkward smile before muttering some half-assed excuses and making a beeline out of the room, towards the other set of doors, far from Joaquin.

He watched you leave, scoffing while shaking his head.

Everyone made their introductions, but Joaquin didn’t have it in him to keep up his faux positivity, giving everyone tight lipped smiles and head nods. Mentioning his name and rank a few times, forcing a laugh when Sam made a joke about being the ‘Falcon’. When Peter tried to talk to him about the mechanics of the new Falcon suit, Joaquin brushed him off.

Sure you two weren’t together anymore, but he had every right to be jealous. Even if Joaquin was just your ex-husband. Peter had a nickname for you! That was enough to piss Joaquin off and make him dislike the kid.

When John Walker tried to question the entire interaction prior to the introductions, Bucky shushed him, giving him a pointed look which was received with a small head nod, and a loud sigh. Followed by Yelena elbowing him.

It was clearly a touchy subject.

That night Joaquin couldn’t sleep.

Neither could you.

For the first time in years, you found yourself fishing your old phone and it’s charger out of the small lockbox below your bed, the box filled with some of your most prized mementos, photos of friends, family, birthday cards, small trinkets, a few necklaces, an old camera, the phone in hand, and most importantly, your engagement ring and wedding band.

It had taken a few minutes for the phone to turn on after connecting it to the charger. Then you sat on the floor, leaning against your bed in the darkness, eyes focused on the screen as you unlocked it—your old anniversary being the password.

Your bottom lip quivered as you opened the photos app, the most recent photo being of you and Joaquin at the zoo three months into the Blip, when you were still trying to find a sense of normalcy. Back when the both of you would still go on dates and try to cheer one another up, when you still fought the grief instead of wallowing in it.

He looked terrified while you had a wide smile on your face, three parrots on you, one perched in each hand and the other on the top of your head.

Then you started scrolling, eyes burning with unshed tears as you went through the photos, happy moments forever frozen in time. Moments you wish you could relive, just for a day.

Finally you found it, the wedding video. You turned your phone horizontally, playing the ten minute video, a perfectly edited version of your wedding ceremony and reception, with a few blooper pieces of your family members giving their commentary on the wedding. Ximena put it together for you and Joaquin.

You looked so happy as he held you in his arms, both of you laughing and smiling, embracing the newly-weds title.

The choked sob that slipped past your lips at the sight of your first dance unleashed the floodgates, you were full on sobbing now, watching the video with your knees to your chest, hand perched atop them.

Joaquin used to look at you as if you hung the moon and stars.

You remember that look, the look of unconditional love.

You might’ve had a crush on Joaquin in high school, but he was the one who fell the hardest. He was the first to say ‘I love you’ and the day he proposed to you, he couldn’t stop himself, it was such a candid moment. He had a whole day planned for it, but then you two had gone to the beach, and the sunset painted you like an angel sent from above, the second you’d turn around, squatting to pick up seashells, he knew it was time.

He’d tapped your shoulder that day, as if he was showing you a shell, then you turned around—laughing at the awkward movement while still squatting, then you practically fell backwards onto the sand at the sight of him on one knee with an open engagement ring box.

Ximena had a thing for dramatics, so at the end of your wedding video, she also added in the video of your proposal, which was shakily taken from his phone, propped up against his water bottle in the sand, the angle a little crooked, but it captured the moment nonetheless.

Three knocks on your door interrupted your sobbing sessions. You were quick to wipe your tears away, hoping you’d have enough time to tuck the phone away and climb into bed, pretending to be asleep.

But then Yelena opened the door with Bob at her side while you were trying to grab the box from below the bed, still on the floor. The two squinting into the darkness, letting their eyes adjust to the room with the helpful aid of the hall-way light streaming in.

Bob noticed you first.

“McQueen? Why’re you on the floor—wait, are you crying? Shit, Yelena she’s upset about something.”

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you finally looked over at them, tear stained cheeks, red eyes, and a quivering bottom lip. Not to mention your frizzy hair, and tear soaked sweater sleeves.

They easily entered the room, Yelena turning on your desk lamp as Bob shut the door behind him. Then Yelena was sliding onto the floor beside you, and Bob in front of the both of you.

The both of them were an oddly comforting duo, they were the best of friends, and honestly, after helping Bob start working through a lot of his issues, he had helpful input on most emotional situations. Plus, the fact that he cared was enough for you to let him in, and that went for Yelena as well.

Yelena noticed the phone, picking it up and looking at it, her brows knit together at the sight of the paused video, seeing a younger version of you in the arms of Joaquin Torres, smiles on your face while you flashed your wedding ring. Then she noticed that you were in a wedding dress, and he was in a full suit.

She squinted slightly, using two fingers to zoom into the paused video, eyes widening at the realization that the Air Force Captain she’d met today, was the same man in the video that you were very clearly marrying.

“We got married young. Like idiots. Then the Blip happened and I dunno, we just hated each other after a while, there wasn’t anything to fix. Then we went to court—spent almost a year going back and forth for the sake of arguing. Honestly, I only prolonged the divorce because fighting with him was better than not speaking to him.”

You sighed, now leaning your head on Yelena’s shoulder while the two listened and nodded.

“I don’t think it was idiotic to marry him if you loved him—did you?”

You blinked a few times, glancing at Bob, then down at your hands again. “I do—I did. He used to make me feel like nothing could ever go wrong. Then suddenly, the fantasy all came crashing down.” You sniffled a few times, shrugging.

He nodded, looking at Yelena who was swiping through the different photos and videos, then her eyes widened as she let out a loud gasp, throwing the phone to the side, where it now sat face-up, a video of you and Joaquin in a very intimate position on the screen.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to flip the phone. It wasn’t like a full blown sex tape, but you were half-naked on top of him.

“So I take it you had a healthy marriage at first? Based on that-” Yelena pointed to the phone. Then she finally broke, loud boisterous laughter filling the room. Her laugh was always contagious, and it led to the three of you laughing amongst each other.

They’d managed to cheer you up in minutes, and that reminded you of how lonely you’d felt before meeting them. How mundane life felt, how every single task was draining. It reminded you of how draining life really used to be, when you’d always feel so alone in a room full of people.

When you’d seek comfort in the one person that couldn’t provide it anymore.

“I really do love you guys.”

Yelena smiled, nodding her head. “I love you too, in a completely platonic way, don’t try to mount me the way you mounted him—wait what's his name again?” Her brows knit together as she thought hard to remember Joaquin’s name, but she was drawing a blank.

Bob finally stopped laughing, shaking his head. “Joaquin—I think? Yeah, that sounds right.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s Joaquin, Captain Joaquin Torres. Y’know when we were married he wasn’t a captain yet—” you stopped mid sentence, afraid of the potential word vomit or tears that might come out of this conversation.

On the opposite end of the tower Joaquin was pacing back and forth in one of the guest bedrooms. Not only was he angry, he was hurt, so hurt, in fact, that he’d spent thirty minutes crying silently in the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would numb some of the pain he was feeling.

It usually worked for physical pain, but emotional pain? It did little to nothing.

Seeing you was like opening Pandora's box. Joaquin always knew he was angry, angry at you yes, but he was angrier at himself. He’d never really forgiven himself for letting you slip through the cracks, for taking his frustrations out on you, for being overly jealous and never understanding, and for pushing you away. Constantly.

The Blip had taken a lot out of him, he was hurting, but so were you.

He forgot about that, about the pain that you’d been in.

Your mother was blipped, and she meant the world to you. Anytime you’d call your father, you’d lock yourself in the bedroom after, sobbing for hours, holding a pillow against your chest, trying to find some kind of comfort.

In the beginning, he’d slip into bed behind you, arms wrapped around your torso while you silently cried and mourned your mother. You were never really the blind hope type—he was. Joaquin had been there for you, there to comfort you, to bring you a sense of reassurance, and most importantly, to ground you.

His abuela had been blipped, he knew how it felt, the grief, but it wasn’t nearly as substantial as yours was. He loved his abuela, but he also knew she was an older woman who lived an entire life, and anytime they spoke, she’d always say ‘I love you Quino, if this is the last time we talk, just know i’ll always be there in spirit! Make sure you tell my princessa I love her too!’—or something along those lines.

He used to tell her not to talk like that, but his mother said it came from a place of love and of understanding. Every moment with someone was precious and needed to be valued, life was really too short to leave things unspoken.

So how he managed to leave so much? He didn’t understand.

He blamed himself for the divorce, Joaquin knew that he was pushing you away. Then you’d gotten that job on base, and at first he was excited to visit his pretty wife during lunch. But then his jealousy took over, jealousy mixed with pessimism and all of the negative emotions he’d been swallowing down started surfacing.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try. You were constantly talking to him, constantly checking on him, spending nights with your hands in his hair while you asked if he was alright, telling him you were always there to talk.

His job was stressing him out, he was under so much pressure, constantly. Tensions were rising at work, there were deadlines that needed to be met, tasks he didn’t have the time to do, and yet he still had to.

So he’d come home late, and he was bitter about it. Then you’d show up with a small smile on your tired face, mumbling something about making dinner, but he was tired, too tired to eat. He just wanted to sleep.

Some days he’d snap at you, and you were never one to sit and take it.

That’s when the fighting would start, and the screaming for hours on end. You two would go back and forth until eventually you’d slam a door in his face and tell him to sleep on the sofa.

Even now, as he paced back and forth, he remembers the sound of your muffled sobs, the way you’d cry after every fight. Then you’d pad out of the room in the middle of the night with a blanket for him, he’d pretend to be asleep as you covered him, kissing the top of his head, mumbling a rushed ‘I’m sorry’.

You always cared, you did your best.

He didn’t.

He stopped trying, and he knew that. He was just so tired, so angry, so jealous, so frustrated. The world didn’t stop spinning, tomorrow would always come, but he was so angry as he focused on each individual day, then he couldn’t find comfort in you anymore.

At one point, you were able to calm him down within seconds, you’d wrap your arms around him and tell him you loved him, then ask to talk. He’d melt against you, an entire breakdown of his day would follow. Sometimes you’d comment, other times you’d nod your head while he spoke.

But eventually, the hugs, kisses, and gentle gestures stopped. Even the sex didn’t solve anything. It was just another way for the both of you to let go of tension, then he was grabbing a pillow and leaving the room, going to the sofa, and eventually, to the guest bedroom that had turned into his personal bedroom.

What made things worse was that you were both so young when you’d gotten married, young and naive. In a world where alien invasions were common, jumping the gun on marriage wasn’t that irrational, not when you were truly in love with someone.

But sometimes love isn’t enough.

That’s what had truly broken Joaquin, the realization that love wasn’t enough.

Joaquin was twenty-six when the divorce was finalized, you were twenty-five.

When he was twenty-two people told him it was idiotic to get married that young, that it was a mistake. So many people doubted you and Joaquin’s marriage, and now, he had to admit that they were right.

He wanted to hate you, the last year of your marriage was the hardest. It was as if neither of you wanted to let go while simultaneously making one another’s lives a living hell. Buying a house together made it much harder to separate from one another, which also presented its own legal issues in terms of needing to be separated prior to divorcing one another.

Then there was the fact that you’d been married in Florida, seeking a divorce in California, while Joaquin was actively in the Air Force, and you also worked on base. It wasn’t like either of you would’ve been able to avoid one another, and truthfully, neither of you wanted to avoid each other.

The arguments and fights were never ending during that last month. Anytime he’d see you or you’d see him before a meeting with your attorneys, a screaming fest would start. Most of the fights had nothing to do with any divisions of assets, and you’d both already agreed to sell the house.

But Joaquin knew that he preferred fighting with you over never speaking to you.

The sound of his door slamming open caught his attention, his pacing stopped while he turned to look at the door.

Sam stood here with Bucky by his side, a singular brow raised as he shook his head, the two men inviting themselves into the room.

“So you mean to tell me, this entire time, you had an ex-wife? Kid, you were married?” Sam was loud as he spoke, shock evident in his tone as he entered the rooms, hands moving as he spoke. “I had to find out from Buck! Of all people!”

“Hey—what’s that supposed to mean!” Bucky sounded offended while he leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his head at Sam’s comment.

“It means, I’ve been working with the kid for almost four years—wait! When we first met, you’d barely been divorced? Is that why you were in Tunisia?! On some finding yourself through work journey?”

Joaquin was frozen in place, eyes wide as he looked from Sam to Bucky, then back to Sam. He didn’t know the best way to approach this situation. Sure, he knew that eventually he would’ve had to come clean to Sam about you, but that wasn’t ever a priority of his, mainly because he preferred to act as if nothing was ever wrong and swallow all of his feelings down.

“Yeah, when you introduced me to the kid, they’d only been divorced for around four months? I found that out from McQueen. Honestly, I’m surprised Joaquin held it in for so long, five drinks in and she was crying on my living room sofa.”

Bucky sounded so nonchalant as he spoke, which only irritated Joaquin. It made sense that you’d be spending time with him, he was your boss. But, you? Drinking with him? Then spending time at his place?

Joaquin’s jaw was clenched so tight he was afraid his teeth would crack.

“Buck, why were you drinking with her—you don’t drink often.” Sam paused, looking over at Bucky.

“I wasn’t drinking, we were at a fundraiser, y’know they’re boring as hell. People kept passing her drinks, she didn’t want to be rude when she was technically working, I told her to just chuck the drinks into some plants—then she started rambling about plants and their root health. Anyways, long story short, she’s an emotional drunk.”

Joaquin stifled a laugh, a sad smile on his face at the story.

You’d always been an emotional drunk, even as a teenager when you and Ximena would sneak into his mother’s liquor cabinet, sneaking out to drink in random parking lots or at the beach. Then someone would inevitably call him to pick you both up, he’d always feign reluctance, but he never had an issue getting the two of you, and whatever other friend was there.

That’s also one of the first times you’d kissed him. He remembers the day as if it was yesterday, you were a junior in high school, he was a senior, it was after the big homecoming game. You were clearly plastered, laughing and shrugging with Ximena, both of you practically falling over with wide smiles on your faces as you stumbled into Joaquin in the parking lot.

He lectured you both that night, Ximena had fallen asleep in the front seat, so you opted to help haul her out of the car with him, giggling as you backed into him a few times. Joaquin kept shushing you, and after you both managed to get his sister into the house, you smiled at him in the dimly lit hallway.

Then you kissed him. It was quick, as if the moment you realized your lips were on his, you were immediately reeling back. Apologizing while giggling, then you’d gone into Ximena’s room, waving at him before closing the door.

“Hey stop daydreaming over there! You’ve got some serious explaining to do!” Sam’s snapping caught Joaquin’s attention as he slowly nodded his head, acting as if he was listening—he very clearly was not.

“Start from the beginning, let’s hear it.”

Joaquin nodded at Bucky, letting out a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He’d spent the next two hours explaining everything to them both, from the start of your relationship, to getting engaged, then to the Blip, and of course, the end of it all. The divorce, the fights, the anger, all of it.

In a way, Joaquin felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He’d spent so long bottling everything up that it had just become normal to him.

“So you’re still in love with her and from what Bucky’s told me—she’s still in love with you. So what’s the issue here? Clearly you’ve both grown up, and Ray Charles once said, time heals a broken heart but time has clearly sat still while you two have been apart—”

Bucky cut him off, “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes, Sam.”

“You shut the hell up, I’m giving the kid some emotional motivation to win his woman back! Sure, they’re divorced, but they’re young and clearly stupid!—no offense Joaquin. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other! You’ve heard her side, Buck, now we’ve heard his! They’re in love!” Sam’s hands moved rapidly as he spoke, constantly motioning in Joaquin’s direction and the opposite direction, most likely where you metaphorically would be.

Bucky sighed, shrugging. “Okay, you’re right—” he turned to look at Joaquin. “I get you two went through a rough patch during the Blip, but I can guarantee, things’ll be better now. At the very least, you should try. Lightning McQueen’s not gonna reject you outright.”

Sam and Joaquin shared a confused look before Sam spoke up. “Why the hell is everyone calling her Lightning McQueen?”

Bucky shrugged. “She wears Lightning McQueen slippers around the tower, sometimes she’ll stop mid sentence and say ‘kachow’. At first I didn’t get it, then she forced me to watch the entire Cars franchise with her. She cried during the last two movies.”

Sam blinked a few times, meanwhile Joaquin couldn’t hold his laughter in.

“That’s one of her favorite movies, something about a coming of age story—I dunno, she’s loved it forever.”

Sam and Bucky looked at one another, then back at him, speaking at the same time, the mixture of “you’re both idiots” and “idiots in love” sounded a bit jumbled and confusing, but Joaquin got the point.

The next few days Joaquin’s only goal was to actually talk to you. It was easy in theory, there were only so many places that you could run off to. However, you knew the compound much better than he did, and anytime he finally caught sight of you, you were gone in seconds.

It was obvious you’d been avoiding him, and that was only irritating him more and more. He’d gone from being slightly hopeful that maybe you two could start over, to feeling himself slipping into that same pessimistic mindset he’d tried to swallow down and drown out with work.

He was hanging on by a thin thread.

That thread snapped the moment he walked into the lab in search of some data on a few samples of adamantium that was recovered near a small island neighboring the Celestial mass in the Indian Ocean.

He still had a job to do, even if he was also simultaneously trying to win his ex-wife back.

The moment Joaquin stepped foot into the lab, you were there, standing beside a large metal table where Bob was laying flat. Not only was the man laying down, he was fully shirtless and your hands were on his abdomen. From Joaquin’s angle he couldn’t see what you were doing, but he did hear your laughter.

Yelena leaned against one of the tables behind you, her arms crossed as she questioned your motions, pointing down at Bob where you’d been stitching him up, “If you go any slower, it’ll prolong the pain.”

You scoffed, glancing at her over your shoulder. “Well, if you hadn’t been sparring with knives, none of us would be here right now. This is the closest thing we have to a med bay, besides, if I go faster, I’ll fuck up the stiching and unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have health insurance in the state of New York. Actually, I don’t think any of you do outside of Bucky and Walker.”

Bob winced slightly as you pulled the thread through his skin, teeth clenched, one hand over his eyes. “Why couldn’t I have a drink or something again? No offense Lightning, but this hurts.”

You sighed. “Remember your whole addictive personality thing? Sorry, but the best I can do is get Yelena to knock you out cold. But I think that would be another issue. Besides, aren't you supposed to be like a God or something? You’ll heal just fine! Don’t be such a baby!” Then you started laughing.

He groaned, wincing as he laughed as well, which made Yelena laugh too.

Joaquin finally walked into the lab, jaw clenched as he walked right past the three of you, his own metaphorical storm cloud following him. Except this time, you couldn’t run away from him, which he was grateful for, but he didn’t really feel like discussing your past relationship with people he hardly knew.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Torres!” Your eyes widened at Yelena’s words, fingers pressing a bit too harshly into Bob’s skin—earning a loud groan.

Joaquin scoffed, nodding his head to acknowledge Yelena while mumbling. “Yeah—afternoon.”

He found a more secluded area of the lab, but it still had a direct line-of-sight to you. So Joaquin sat, stewing in his own jealousy for thirty minutes while you stitched up some gash on Bob's side.

Then Yelena was helping Bob get back up, stating that she’d be back shortly, but once she was out of the lab, the lights dimmed, then flashed red for a few seconds, before settling on a blue-ish hue. That was followed by Yelena’s voice over the intercom. “Sorry Lightning! But you two need to talk it out, or sex it out, whichever you prefer! I’ll shut down the cameras! Oh and don’t try to do any other work, Peter’s shutting down the systems externally.”

Once she finished speaking, you were left in a tense silence as you cleaned up the area. The sounds of metal clinking, plastic shifting, spraying from the disinfectants, and the sounds of your frustrated sighing practically echoed in the room.

“Are you gonna say something to me? Or just be angry and clean the whole time. Not that I’m not used to that.”

You blinked a few times, pausing your motions before practically slamming the metal tray in your hands against the countertop as you slowly turned to face him. He was still several feet away, but now Joaquin was standing up, leaning against one of the larger free-standing countertops that you typically examined samples on.

“I have nothing to say to you Joaquin.”

He shook his head at that. “Well, I have everything to say to you Ms. Torres.” He noticed the way your eyes widened as he shook his head, then he ran his tongue along his top teeth. “Y’know what’s absolutely insane, that I had to find out from Bucky—your boss—that you hadn’t ever gone through with changing your name. So you’ve been walking around with my last name, while fucking whoever the hell you want.”

You scoffed at that, there it was, the jealousy. “Excuse me? I’m sorry that I didn’t feel the need to go through another extensive legal process to change my goddamn name, when I already made a name for myself with the last name Torres. And seriously? Fucking whoever I want? I’ve gone on dates—I’ve had sex with other people. Oh well! Do you want flowers and a fuckin handwritten apology? Like oh I’m so sorry Joaquin that I kept your last name after being married to you for five years! My bad!”

Joaquin let out a sardonic laugh, followed by a scoff before speaking again. “Well, if you hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the earth, maybe I wouldn’t care that much. It’s like the second we were over, you were gone!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?! Stick around? Fight with you some more?! As if it was ever fucking enjoyable? I choose to leave, I’m not mad about it! I had to get the hell away from you, I had to remember who the hell I was—who I am! I didn’t even know who I was outside of being with you! So sorry if I choose to put myself first and go live my life Joaquin!”

Your voice got louder and louder as you spoke, chest rapidly rising and falling, feeling the waves of irritation and anger rolling through your entire body.

He shook his head. “Did you ever think that maybe—just maybe I didn’t want the divorce. That sure we could’ve used some space and time apart but that I still loved you?! Did you ever consider that! Or maybe I still love you! That I was never able to move on?!”

You paused, lips slightly parted, brows knit together at the confession.

Joaquin scoffed, rolling his eyes, leaning his head back slightly as he looked up, silently praying to whatever God truly existed, that this wasn’t a mistake. Then his eyes were back on you.

“There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about you. Every single worthless hookup I had, I thought about you, I purposefully went after women that reminded me of you just so I could fucking feel something—anything! But they were never you!”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I swallowed down every shitty emotion I’ve felt for years, drowning myself in even more work, I mean I guess it paid off-or at least it had paid off until I fucking crash landed into the Indian Ocean!”

Joaquin laughed again, sniffling slightly, doing his best to ignore the burning in his eyes “The worst part was, when I woke up from a week long coma, I was delirious and high on whatever the fuck they were giving me for the pain—and I asked for you. I asked every single nurse for you. I get it, you wanted to go off and live your life without me—but you didn’t call, you didn’t text. Hell, I even asked Ximena if you knew and she avoided the subject.”

You cut him off. “Shut the hell up Joaquin.”

He shook his head “No, I’m tired of holding this shit in, and if this is the only chance I’ll ever get to talk to you—then so be it! I waited for you, I waited in that goddamn hospital hoping and praying that maybe you’d show up with your sad smile and concerned eyes and tell me that I was an idiot and things would all be okay. But you didn’t, come to find out, you were there that day—the day they rushed me in.”

You shook your head, jaw clenched, eyes watering. “Joaquin, stop.”

Joaquin laughed again, shrugging. “Bucky told me you were there with him, that you hounded all of the nurses and the receptionists, but you never once went to see me. What? Hate me that bad you couldn’t even spare me five fucking minutes when I’m unconscious after nearly dying?!—”

“Jesus Christ! Shut the fuck up, Joaquin! You don’t know what you’re talking about. For once in your life, shut your big fucking mouth! I’m sorry I didn’t go—you think I didn’t wanna see you?! I was fucking terrified! Terrified that you were gonna die on that table when they were operating on you! I was sobbing the entire time, I was so afraid of losing you—”

You wiped your tears away, brows knit together, bottom lip quivering as you stared at him. “I’d already lost you once. I didn’t have it in me to lose you again. I couldn’t see you like that, I tried—I wanted to. I couldn’t do it. You don’t get to hold that against me—”

You pointed at him as you spoke. “You don’t have the fucking right to hold that against me.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, watching as your walls were crumbling. He knew you were still hurt, that much was obvious in the way you’d been avoiding him—but to know you were hurting like this?

It broke part of him, and for a second he felt like his nineteen year old self again on the night he’d taken your virginity. He remembered the way you tried not to cry, word vomiting your insecurities and vulnerabilities to him while the two of you sat in his childhood bedroom. Joaquin remembered the way you looked, the way you couldn’t meet his stare, the way you held the blanket to your body to shield yourself from him, even if you were still in your dress.

He knew you so well, he used to know exactly how to comfort you, exactly how to make your worries disappear.

Now he didn’t.

Now he was the cause of them.

“I loved you until the very end of our relationship. Don’t ever sit and act like I didn’t—like I don’t care about you. Joaquin, you were my first love, you meant everything to me. I married you when I was twenty-one like an idiot because I had so much faith and hope in our relationship—in our love. I know I was wrong to up and leave once the divorce was finalized, but I didn’t want to work through things just to be your friend. I could never in my life be your friend Joaquin—not when you knew everything about me—every single insecurity, every hope, every dream.”

You weren’t wiping the tears away anymore, a sad smile on your face as you looked down at your hands, then back to him.

“If I could do it all over again, I would. Just to get the chance to love you like that again. That’s why I left, because I knew if I stayed, I would’ve been right back with you—right back to wanting to hate you, knowing I never could and I couldn’t take it.”

He was at a loss for words, tears finally flowing along his cheeks while he looked at you. Joaquin finally processed how he’d broken your heart—broken you. He’d broken you down time and time again, letting his own insecurities, exhaustion, and pessimism get to him.

He’d hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt—you.

“Everyday I think about you. I think about how you’re doing, I wonder what Sam’s got you wrapped up in, I laugh at the stupid jokes you make during press releases and media statements as the Falcon. Hell, I even pray for you, which is crazy because I don’t even know if there’s even a higher power—but the faith that you’ll be okay each and every day is enough for me. I ask Ximena about you all the time. Whenever I go back to Miami, I make sure to go see your family.”

Joaquin was genuinely speechless. This entire time, he thought you just didn’t care. That you wanted as much distance between the both of you as possible. He’d been so angry for years, angry at you, and angrier at himself.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not love you Joaquin, and that in itself, is enough to make me avoid you. I don’t want what we had, I hated it. I hated every fight, I hated watching you leave after we had sex, I hated the sight of you sleeping on our sofa. I hated all of it. I know life was really hard at that point, I know I wasn’t the best wife or partner, but I tried. I tried everyday but you held everything against me, constantly.”

You sniffled, biting your bottom lip while trying to recollect yourself. The tears were flowing, and you couldn’t stop them.

“You were so mean, all the time. You weren’t the Joaquin I had fallen in love with, honestly, I know I was a shell of myself, but you—you were so much worse. You never let me back in—” a short sob slipped past your lips while you cried, looking down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths. “I wanted you to let me in again. I remember purposefully forgetting documents and prolonging our entire attorney experience, just so I could spend more time with you. Because I knew the second it was over, I was leaving.”

The silence was suffocating.

You were doing your best not to sob. Joaquin was processing everything—he’d never truly known how it all affected you. He’d never seen you sob at night, sure he knew you cried, but he didn’t see it, he didn’t notice how broken you truly were.

“I’m sorry.” Joaquin spoke softly “I’m so sorry—baby—I didn’t know. I just—I didn’t realize how bad things were until it was all over. And I was just so angry all the time, everything made me so mad. Then I’d see you, but everyone was always gravitating towards you, and it makes sense because you’re beautiful, funny and so intelligent, but it bothered me.”

He paused, now stepping closer to you, hesitating before gently caressing your face, angling it towards him, away from the ground. His thumbs softly wiping your tears away.

“I was so insecure and jealous and downright mean, and I’m sorry for putting you through hell. You meant the world to me—hell you still mean the world to me. I’ve been so angry this whole time, I thought I was mad at you, but I was mad at me. Mad that I’d fucked up so bad, mad that things hadn’t worked out, that I stopped trying.”

You leaned into his hand, teary eyes now looking into his.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I want you to know that, even if nothing comes from it. I’ll always love you, there’s nobody in this universe that gets me the way you do, I know it’s been years, but I don’t think I’m ready to just let you go again.”

Joaquin’s vulnerability shocked you, not because you didn’t think he was capable, but because this Joaquin, this was your Joaquin. This is the man that you’d fallen in love with.

“I never wanted you to let me go, Joaquin.”

He’d been the one to suggest the divorce, and it had taken a few months of fights before you’d actually considered it.

By that point, Joaquin was rarely sleeping with you, and the only time the two of you weren’t fighting was when you were both on base at work. Outside of that, the fights and arguments were constant, an unrelenting cycle, and you had finally hit your breaking point.

The last major fight before the divorce ended in you screaming at him before tossing a large yellow envelope on the kitchen island.

You both signed the papers that night. Then the filing process started.

That night you cried into the stuffed bear that he’d won for you at a carnival when you were nineteen. It was one of your first real dates, and you’d been so excited when he’d managed to actually win the ring toss three times in a row, scoring the large panda bear, giving it to you with a dopey smile on his face.

“Please—give me a second chance, I’ll do everything right this time—I won’t fall back into old shitty habits—I promise baby” his voice was strained as he tried not to cry. It took everything in him to not fall to his knees to beg for you back.

You sighed, pulling away from him as you shook your head.

“Joaquin, I think time apart might’ve been what we needed. But I still see the way you look at people around me, I still see the same shitty habits, and honestly, I think we might be better apart for now. We both have stuff to work through, but I won’t up and disappear from your life again”

He nodded as you spoke, biting his bottom lip, watching as you shrugged, sadness pooling in your teary eyes.

“I can’t be your wife again—not now at least. But maybe one day when we’re in a better spot.”

Joaquin sniffled a bit, looking up at the roof, then back at you. “One day for sure.”

Then you kissed him, it was soft, hesitant, but he knew it wasn’t a welcoming kiss. It was similar to the last kiss you’d given him the day your divorce finalized. As if you were saying goodbye again.

Joaquin only hoped that the goodbye would be temporary.

Thanks for reading my lovers <3 as always feedback is appreciated!!!

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres angst #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres fanfic #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres my beloved <3 #joaquin x y/n #joaquin x reader

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low-budget-korra · 5 months ago

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The lies Arcane Fandom likes to believe

Okay, I've seen a lot of awful takes in other social medias but now they are getting here too and I just can't. So I will talk abt the truth a lot of the fandom chose to ignore. And I'm saying "the truth" because different from a lot of ppl, I've actually watched the show and paid attention to the scenes.

1. Jinx is the only one who has been traumatized

Half of the worst takes about characters like Vi or Caitlyn, wouldn't exist if ppl realize that Jinx WASN'T the only one who got traumatized. Vi spent 7y getting beat up in prison, without eating properly and confined in a dirt cell. And no, she is not the one to blame for the person Jinx became. Jinx has to be held accountable for that, just as much as Silco for feeding her paranoias and manipulating her for years.

2. Caitlyn was a evil character and manipulated Vi

Season 1 Caitlyn shows nothing but empathy and patience, y'all like to say Jinx was a revolutionary but s1 Caitlyn was a revolutionary. "Oh but she was rich, she can't be" oh my sweet summer child...

Anyways, she wanted to end Silco cartel - that was destroying Zaun. She even managed to get a council meeting to talk about this. She wanted to change things and she was acting towards this.

Then she got kidnapped naked, tortured for hours, didn't take the shot that would have saved her mother's life, her mother was murdered, the memorial ceremony was attacked and yet she REFUSED to follow the council's ideas to use full force and invade Zaun. Which led us to

2.1 Caitlyn used the grey against innocents

She DIDN'T. She said it herself that the plan was to capture Silco's goons and destroy the slimmer factories. And we see that in the Hellfire sequence.

So stop spreading that she was using the grey against innocents bc the people she used against it were Chembaroons who provoked a civil war on Zaun for power, and used children labor in its factories. They are far from innocents.

2.2 Caitlyn manipulates Vi

I don't even know where this fake news came from bc I've already watched Arcane 3 times, watch at least 4 reaction channels and a few analysis on yt and no one apart from some of y'all in fandom sees this. Jinx manipulates Vi way more than Caitlyn, for example, she is the one that makes Vi believe that her becoming Jinx is her fault.

3. Viktor and Jayce did nothing wrong

Jayce basically built a Chernobyl above Zaun just bc if Hextech goes bad, people from Zaun would be the ones suffering the consequences and not Piltover.

Y'all like to call Caitlyn a genocide (even tho we didn't see any kill directly from hr actions), when Viktor is literally the one willing to kill people in the thousands just because he believes it's the best call. "I want to evolve all those willing to" excuse me? Sir, what "evolve" even means in this scenario? Bc those "evolved" ppl became nothing more than marionettes with no control over their actions and completely brainwashed.

4. Caitlyn was a dictator, she knew everything that was happening on Zaun and did nothing

Caitlyn was actually a pawn in Ambessa chess, a face to Ambessa actions, a face to take the blame for. Noxus could not just simply invade Piltover and install an Martial Law without the support of a major house like house Kiramman.

Essentially what Ambessa did was promote Caitlyn, and hide behind her status. Because if any other Piltie house questions, she could be like "but I'm just here to support the Kirammans, I'm just doing what Im told"

We see in episode 4 that the Noxians are the ones dealing with Zaun's turf wars. Do y'all actually believe their reports on what's happening was legit? Of course not. Caitlyn made her decisions based on those false reports that she didn't even give two fucks about bc she was still too focused on tracking Jinx. That's why when she started to really see what was going on and questions Ambessa, Ambessa quickly pulls the "mom" card to push Caitlyn back into her web.

Sure, she was still powerful and privileged but she wasn't in full control. And the fact that a lot of the fandom dismisses Ambessa's manipulation shows how good at that she is.

5. Vi choose to have sex instead of helping her suicidal sister

Vi DOESN'T watch Arcane. She doesn't know how bad Jinx was and mind you, last time Jinx was acting weird she blew up things instead of being suicidal. We, the Audience, watch her whole journey and change. Vi only stayed with her for a short period of time and she was in a coma for days. She doesn't know what happened after Isha sacrificed and how much this affected Jinx.

"breaking the cycle" could mean a lot of things and if you listen to her words when Caitlyn arrives, you can see that she clearly thinks Jinx is out there abt to blow something. She is blaming herself for believing in Jinx change of heart and not sad for her being suicidal, this prob actually never crossed Vi's mind.

6. CaitVi was forced

I can't with this ""argument"" CaitVi is the couple that has been built since s1 😭. I take that sometimes they were toxic (like when Cait hit Vi) but to say they were forced...please use it 🧠

7. Silco was a revolutionary and a good father do Jinx

Sure, in the past. There's nothing glorious or revolutionary in running a cartel, having business with corrupted cops and child labor. "But he was getting money to his revolution" my ass. He spent 7y doing nothing but becoming more and more powerful while Zaun became like the Pride Lands when Scar took over. He only gets back to his revolutionary ideas when Jinx stole the Hextech gem.

His beautiful speech doesn't match his horrible actions.

The fact that so many ppl see him as this perfect father figure, is the reason so many ppl so easily fall into abusive relationships. Yes, he took care of her but at the same time, he isolated Jinx from her sister , fed her paranoia and instigated her violence tendencies. And it's so clear bc the moment he was no longer in her life, she started to get better in her mental health.

Anyway to finish this long ass post lmao, I want to say that you are free to dislike and hate who you want and what narrative choice you want. The only thing, that ain't that hard, is be fucking honest abt it. There's no need to create bullshit expectations over your hate, ignoring the CANNON.

#arcane #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #viktor arcane #jayce talis #mel medarda #ambessa medarda #sevika

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doberbutts · 6 months ago

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hello! I'm the one that sent you that ask a week or so ago. Sorry I didn't check to see if you'd answered for a while because I was just so upset and had to take a second. I will say I scrolled through a bunch of helpful posts you reblogged before I even found the ask again that helped a LOT.

Two things I thought you might want to know is that it wasn't speculation that you'd blocked the weirdo blog that sent me your way: they literally have "proudly blocked by doberbutts" in their bio which was why i felt safe coming to you lmao. Second is I guess my struggle with this issue was an overall struggle with how bad wider misogyny has gotten in general and how muddied it's gotten with the "male loneliness crisis" and like, centering men's issues under patriarchy and just how insanely upset it's been making me. Seeing cis MRAs identify with trans men freaked me out because like, yeah it's important to talk about how (cis) men suffer under patriarchy but it's just so rare for me to find men do that without devolving into misogyny, and I start to feel so helpless because I know validating these issues matter but women are being literally dehumanized openly. I do play oppression olympics with this specific issue and just of COURSE women suffer more under patriarchy, but the same men who demand space to air how they suffer won't acknowledge that truth. (sorry for soapboxing; some of them do! It's just...things are so bad for women rn lol it's really hard to have compassion when it feels like none is being given to me).

So the more I see this issue the more I think people are being affected by larger misogyny like I am, but are doing the typical thing that happens where you lash out at a group you can "reach." Policing and harassing trans men's behaviours is way easier than cis men. I've also been seeing some parallels between this discourse and the "gay men vs lesbian women" discourse. It's not really a one-to-one but the discussion of the role of misogyny re homophobia towards gay men who still have male privilege but, come on, if they have feminine affectation it's Different and the back and forth that used to happen when gay men and lesbian women did oppression olympics, it just feels similar.

idk as i type this I hope I don't come across disingenuous or like, my Too Casual Overly Respectful tone is trying to subtly incept you. I worry my vibes are too "women first" but I just can't help it misogyny really is ruining my life 😭. Anyways I'm very grateful for your perspective and your blog. I feel more settled and equipped to push back against anti transmasculine behaviour with rhetoric that can actually challenge people

To respond to each point in turn:

1: Again I still don't really know who that is, though I am somewhat bemused by the idea that someone I clearly don't really remember is still so obsessed with me that they're proud I've blocked them. For the record, my block list is as follows: people who send anonymous hate, people who continue to harass me after I've told them to stop, people I catch with posts containing inexcusable bigotry, obvious trolls, self-identified zoophiles and MAPs, and people who repeatedly send me fundraisers after I have already said I only share fundraisers from people I know and trust. Being on my block list is, um, not really good company, so it's kind of funny to me that someone is proud to be there. Yeah I'm sure they'll fit right in with the neo-nazis and dogfuckers and cyber bullies. Oh and I guess my ex but I only blocked them after they started harassing me about our failed relationship years later. Enjoy block hell I suppose.

2: I'm not really here to play who has it worse, not because I don't recognize the wider understanding of privilege vs oppression but because I think it is a self-defeating thread of thought because you will always find a "more oppressed" example, and I think that people should be allowed to talk about their hurts regardless of their status of "more oppressed" vs "less oppressed". Talking about the ways society has hurt them is not what makes MRAs dangerous. What makes them dangerous is who they blame, how they go about fixing their problem, and the solutions to their problems they come up with.

To be quite frank, the majority of MRAs are men who have experienced some form of social rejection or isolation. Most have been sold some patriarchal lie about how by being men they inherently deserve good sex with hot women on demand, a wife at home to keep barefoot and pregnant, a high paying job where they are respected and valued regardless of the effort they themselves put into it, and all the luxuries that lifestyle can afford. This is a fantasy, you and I both know it. And when these men realize the hard reality that we live in an age of extreme social isolation, that in order to have a partner you need to actually have more personality than a used dishrag and with only half the mess at max, that good sex is about give and take and not just yourself, that these high paying jobs are few and far between with most takers being born into some level of wealth rather than any merit they themselves have earned... they lash out.

It does not at all help things to understand that many of these MRAs are themselves marginalized in some way, but their framework not only doesn't let them see it but also advocates a harsh rejection of anyone who is self-aware enough to realize it. A lot of these guys are undiagnosed, have trauma, and are just as affected by the systems of racism, classism, homo- and trans-phobia, xenophobia, sexism, and ableism as the rest of us.

Quite frankly, I'd rather these dudes see a group of (trans) men fighting for our place in society by joining hands with other activists with more feminist, black-friendly, disabled-friendly, gay- and trans-friendly in an attempt to lift everyone out of the pit rather than continuing to fight over scraps... than to see them continue to blame women and Jews and then go shoot up a school or a mall about it. One of these helps. The other just kills people and excuses rape. There's a lot of value in deradicalizing people by offering them a path to resolving their pain that is perhaps less destructive and more constructive.

This is also why the constant comparison to MRAs annoys me. MRAs kill people in senseless acts of terror and despair because they're upset that they're not having the sex fantasy the patriarchy sold them. Trans men talking about our oppression- regardless of the word we use to express it- are mostly talking amongst ourselves about suicide and rape statistics and sharing ways to get hormones and surgery despite unwilling doctors and insurance companies. We're talking about how our social groups rejected us the moment we came out, or how people use us being men against us in ways that was not happening before we came out or passed. These are not at all equivalent conversations.

3: Again I ask you- I see people using both cis and trans feminist frameworks to hurt other people. Where is your concern for that? I am equally concerned about TERFs as I am about MRAs, as they have driven multiple transgender people and our allies to suicide and even have committed acts of violence against people irl as a result of their ideology. Most TERFs will also be the first ones to tell you that they have been hurt, deeply, by men and that they also are frequently undiagnosed or untreated, traumatized, and affected by the same systems of oppression. Does their existence and their determination to latch onto every feminist conversation including those of people who are staunchly against them then poison all feminism to you? If not, then why make that distinction for trans men and MRAs?

I am black. I am Indigenous. I am transgender. I am gay. I am disabled. I am poor. I suffer. People hurt me. I see every day how bad things are. Do you think I cannot see it, or that my ignorance is the reason for my request for compassion? Perhaps consider that it is rather my knowledge and my lived experience that fuel my call for compassion, instead. I never said it would be easy. But I do think it would make a better world.

4: I do actually agree that it is very similar to the gay man vs lesbian conversation and have said for a while that it's the same queer infighting discussion we've already hashed out for the last 50 or so years, but the target groups just swapped out. It's just butchphobia, it's just biphobia, it's just aphobia, it's just panphobia, it's just nbphobia- it's the same fucking shit over and over and over again. It was shit infighting before and it's shit infighting now. Privilege is a conversation that depends so heavily on context, and the way it has been bastardized by the internet's poor understanding of political frameworks developed by women of color and their allies into cute soundbites and phrases rather than a deep, nuanced knowledge will never fail to annoy me.

Do gay men have privilege over lesbians? As a class, sure, they would have male privilege. But what do we mean by male privilege? The privilege to not worry about being assaulted on the street? To walk home late at night unbothered? To marry who they want, to have the romantic partner they desire, to feel safe within a domestic partnership? You and I both know that doesn't quite match up to the lived experience of gay men worldwide or even here in the "gay paradise" US. How does this interact with other marginalizations? Does a black gay man have privilege over a white lesbian? What happens if he's a drag queen dressed up for an event and she's a butch that passes for cis male? Does that change retroactively if this "gay man" figures out she's actually a transbian 5 years later, and the lesbian is a TERF? I'm not saying this breaks the framework of male privilege- I am saying that sometimes the theory doesn't match the reality, and a nuanced and intersectional understanding is required when talking on an individual scope rather than class politics.

Additionally- as a side note- it is also incredibly annoying to watch people act like privilege = oppressor = dangerous, and oppressed = victim = safe. Privilege, and whether or not you have any, is not a moral indicator nor is it an indicator of the safety of the person you're interacting with. I have privilege over people who cannot walk, because I can. I am not objectively or systemically oppressing people who cannot walk by the use of my legs in my day-to-day life. Oppression is action- if I vote for policies and politicians that removes ramps and safety regulations and provisions to assist wheelchair users? Now I am oppressing people who cannot walk. If I block or move or interfere with the disability aids, if I mock people or assault or harm them, if I dump them out of their mobility aids or break them, that is oppression. The act of climbing the 3 stairs on my front porch to get into my house is a privilege, but the oppression stems from the people who built my house to even have stairs on both exits.

5: lastly to end a very long post, I don't actually think there's any harm in centering yourself when discussing things that objectively affect you, as long as you remember to include others who are affected and let them have their floor to also center themselves when they need to speak up. I am a black trans man. My politics are pretty centered on black feminism. I don't think that is objectively a bad thing. I prefer to let the demographics with similar problems speak for themselves- I would rather my trans fem friends get the mic when they open their mouths, my lesbian friends, my Jewish friends, my latino and asian and arab friends. I don't think there's anything wrong with them centering their own problems and outlooks, as long as they recognize that there's shared space to be had with others who feel similar hurts. I think it's pretty normal to center yourself. I think the difficult thing is knowing when to relinquish the megaphone to someone who's been dying to use it, while you yourself still have so much to say.

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itsrlymine · 7 months ago

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Heyyyy I've been following you for a while and I love your page and that fact that you're Nigerian too is saur cool!!

Anyways, I just wanted to share a few recent success stories with you because you really helped me understand how easy it is to manifest anything and how powerful and limitless I am 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#1. My parents forgetting that I dropped a class in uni (that I didn't even need but they still wanted me to do all that work 😒) they told me not to drop it but I dropped it anyway lolll. Me and my dad even had a whole hour long argument about it, but I just said that they don't even remember that it happened and we never even had that conversation. It was never brought up again 😌

#2. My mom not bothering me because I wanted to sleep 😭 I said she literally wouldn't talk to me until after a certain time and she literally did exactly that lmaoooo

#3. Manifesting seeing a certain snack in an international food store that they usually never have by the time I got to the store I didn't even want it anymore lmaoooo but it was there tho!

#4. Manifesting Toyota Rav 4s everywhere lmaoooo this wasn't even on purpose but everytime I would see one I would be like "whoa I see these literally everywhere" and now they're everywhere in my area when I never used to see them ever (this also might be because it's the car I want (have 🤭) so I'd be like "omg now that I have my car everyone wants to be a copycat omggg 🙄" and i think that alo had something to do with it)

#5. Being cool in a hot ass room cause I was too lazy to get up and turn off the heater. Like randomly from somewhere I just started feeling cold air and it was in like under a minute like I'm so powerful omg

I know these aren't a lot but these are the main ones that I really remember. I've been manifesting so much but those other ones are more like spur of the moment and not memorable.

But yeah so now I'm manifesting a whole list of things (cause I'm literally god and what I say goes). One of them being going back to 2023 cause I want to redo my freshman year of uni cause I'm also manifesting other things that would actually help me enjoy college fr (an apartment, car, friend grp, full ride, hella money, etc. Cause the whole thing is like 122 bullets 😋) and I'm manifesting it all at one time which lowkey sounds like what shifting is so that's what I've been calling it but yeah. And now that I know that I want it, I have it already!

I'm sorry if this is really long but I have a tendency to yap about stuff but yeah I'm just really excited to share this with you cause you helped me a lot and now I just effortlessly manifest when I've been so unsure of my ability to shift/manifest for like 4yrs now lmaooo I've been suffering 😭 but now I'm locked in and I'm getting whatever the fuck I want 🤭

Also I read your previous post about getting your visa approved for your trip. I hope you have fun!! 🩷🩷🩷

Omg hello my fellow Naija babe!!! I'm so happy you like my page, thank you so much for being here!

First of all, you absolutely ate down with these manifestations you now that right??! I'm excited asf bc these are so great and i can't wait to hear the ones you come back and share babe omggg! You can definitely just make a list and decide it's all done bc it's all done now anyways soooo!

You are getting whatever the fuck you want bc that's what's supposed to happen!!!! Awe babe I'm glad my page has helped in some way but you are the real superstar!!!

Thank you I am so excited for my trip!!! Thank you so much for sharing my love!

#anon ask #itsrlymine #law of assumption #imagination is reality #loa tumblr #lawofassumption #manifesting #loassumption #shifting #reality shift #loa success story #loa success #manifesting success #another success story #success story

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shanastoryteller · 4 months ago

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I don't know if you do that but I am gonna shoot anyway 😅 Do you have any fic recs that are Dean centric? I am sure he will be suffering in all of them but I'd also love it if he were getting comforted not gonna lie 🥹 But if you don't do recs it's also fine, have a nice day!

answering this publicly if other people have recs because probably not lol

i guess it depends on what you mean by dean centric? like does back count, it's his pov and mostly about his hell trauma, but through the lens of him hashing out all the s4 bullshit with sam. or dumb luck or good ghost is his pov, him losing his mind while in deep denial, and sam isn't even it for the first 2/3, but also does it really count as dean centric if his every waking thought is about sam? then again, if his every waking thought isn't about sam, that's ooc as hell

i am smushing dean like play doh, i am poking him with a stick, i am sitting in my backyard and adding him to my plastic bucket to make potion, but i am at heart a sam girl. these are all simply sam girl activities

in no particular order here are some fics i like that i think are dean heavy to dean focused, but whether they're dean centric probably depends on your specific kind of brainworms

It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see. Damn it, Dean thinks, This is gonna take a lot of chickflick moments. comments: one of my absolute favorite spn fics, so it's possible i'm just biased. dean trying to figure out what the hell is going on with sam and then what the hell he feels for sam. also a really great exploration of dean's self worth issues and him confronting that, which is really what i think justifies adding it to this list

A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde Dean's been living too long on the surface. comments: late seasons when mary's still around but before the BOL has blown up in their faces. great exploration of his relationships with sam and mary and how they intersect. the sequel is also required reading

Credit for a Kill by TheMarvelousTolkienJob Dean had figured he knew how his day was going to go. Do some research, hunt a little, maybe even go out for drinks afterward. He hadn't counted on taking part in someone else's quest for revenge nor on Sam being held hostage to ensure that he would complete said revenge. comments: dean being a badass and saving sam plus bonus bobby to the rescue!

Desiderata by Dyed_Red Dean is hit with a curse. It shouldn’t take that much to resolve, could be a gift under other circumstances, but life’s not that simple for the Winchesters. comments: incomplete, but close enough to the end that you see where they're going and how they get there. dean torturing himself, which we all know i love, and some really scorchingly hot and fucked up sex scenes

mother is pretending by hathfrozen Dean blurts, "So, you're saying I'm like, Mommy, or something?" He's never had a joke land so completely flat. It sounds strangled and weird coming out of his own mouth, like it was never supposed to be a joke in the first place. "Um," Sam starts, and his voice fucking cracks. "Dean." Immediately, Dean says, "I didn't say that. Sam, I never said that." (Sam and Dean get reckless about how they're handling the pain of season 2, and whoops! slowly develop a Mommy kink along the way.) comments: the author is like i am taking your hand and we are going on a journey and at the end of it you are going to believe these two get into mommy kink with dean as the mommy. and by jove, they did it

it started with the kinks by deadlybride Zachariah gave them their memories back, but he didn't erase what had happened in the time they were other people. Dean Smith made a mistake, and Dean Winchester--well. He's still living with it. comments: 4 part series exploring dean's character and his relationship with sam through panty kink

Flying Weight by flesh Sam wakes after being soulless for three years to discover that Dean and his relationship with him have undergone some serious changes. Through traveling and hunting with Dean, Sam struggles to put his life back together after events he has only limited memory of. A season six wincest AU comments: thank you fleshflutter we love you. a classic for a reason. painful, intense, interesting look at dean. you ache for everyone the whole time but it's all okay

Filthy Mind by rivkat Dean acquires unwelcome nightly visitors. Set post-Hell, without details as to how that happens. summary: take the warnings seriously. really good look at sam and dean's (and society's, especially 20 years ago) different views of assault, consent, and masculinity. sequel is required reading and soothes the teeth gnashing hurt of this one

All Shall Fade by theMarvelousTolkienJob The plan was simple. Sam would watch security cameras while Dean did interviews. Nothing bad was supposed to happen and certainly not...this. Anything but this. Set in Season 14. comments: great look of dean pushed to the edge and also explores his skills as a torturer, which is something i don't see often in fics even though it's such a defining and character shaping change for him

Behind Me by K Hanna Korossy She wasn't sure what he meant, just that he needed someone else besides her. Outsider POV. comments: dean stripped down to his bare essentials

Find and Seek by K Hanna Korossy Dean, trapped in a small, dark place, with bodies and rats. Sam needs to hurry. comments: dean having the absolute worst time and losing it inches at a time, which is great especially because practically speaking he's not in any danger - it's just psychological hell

Unforsaken by K Hanna Korossy No matter what Dean believed, his family and friends hadn't abandoned him. comments: the second half and how dean processes it is both realistic and heart breaking. it's short even within the confines of the fic, but you're rooting for him

In Reverse by sodakey After Faith, a job has the boys looking for missing hikers in Wyoming. While Sam worries it’s connected to what happened to Dean ten years ago, Dean wonders if Sam would be better off back in the world of normal. comments: another one that's a classic for a reason. hits dean exactly right

And Fools Shine On, If Belief Was Enough, and Woven by gekizetsu Dean's been souljacked. And nothing in their arsenal is going to save Sam from his brother. summary: the first part is more about sam than dean, but the second and third are really killer. dean is unraveling, literally, and it's up to sam to weave him back together again, even at the risk he'll see parts of dean that he'd rather show no one. there are parts reading this where you say to yourself am i the one going insane here, and an interesting birds eye view on how much you can own a soul not your own. really strongly recommend

#ailurusfulgensmel #asks #supernatural

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myhamartiaishubris · 10 months ago

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Ben Hargreeves is the worst written best character and I can prove it

This is a poorly organized meta/essay about my baby boy who got massacred. Originally posted in the discord server so some of y'all have seen it already.

Let me be clear: this is a love letter to my favourite Hargreeves boy. I could write him better. I could fix him (narratively).

Here's why Ben is a great character who, paradoxically, was very badly written.

Umbrella Ben

Listen. Listen to me. Ben Hargreeves was, from the moment I saw him, my absolute favourite character. He's already dead? Doomed by the narrative before the narrative even begins? Also, an East Asian character in the year of our Lord 2018?? I was on board. And Brelly Ben gets a lot of good moments! You know that scene where Klaus is in the motel closet, tied up, and Ben says something like, "How does it feel being helpless? This is how I feel, watching my brother piss his life away." Um, hello?? That's such a delicious line.

Because up until this point Ben's been kind of quiet, in that dead broody way, or we saw his young self being soft and reluctant. But suddenly we realize, oh, Ben isn't nice. In fact, he's kind of nasty to his addict brother, and you get this kernel of a glimpse into his character. This is a character who might have been soft-spoken in life, but death and the years since have shredded him down to all his razor edges. He's still that bookish little Ben, except he's not little and he's frustrated, angry, traumatized, and in pain.

And season 2 builds on this! He's willing to violate Klaus's personal boundaries just for a taste of life again. Holy shit that's so delicious. My problem is that, especially in season 2, this isn't explored nearly as much as it could be. Ben's possession shenanigans are mostly played for comedy, when in fact we could be delving into the implications of Ben's character and his relationship with Klaus. You have this character who's kind, who (from what we know so far) represented the "good" of the academy, who loves his brother so so hard and it hurts him so bad to see Klaus hit rock bottom every time. The little "I missed you guys" in season 2? Devastating. And yet despite his goodness he is capable of being a bad person, and he repeatedly hurts those around him (namely Klaus).

So surely this is part of his arc, right? This is going to be explored and resolved. Right?

The Season 2 Ending

So the thing is, I didn't immediately hate the way they had Ben move on / die to save Viktor. I was sad to see my favourite character go, but also excited to see where the writers would take that storyline. Because, obviously, it wasn't over. Right? Obviously Ben's arc isn't finished, he hasn't resolved his frustrations, his complicated relationship with Klaus is never fully untangled, plus the rest of the family never get a moment of real closure with him (except maybe Diego). So clearly, it wasn't over. Right?

Well, in light of season 4, I can confidently come back and say that killing Brelly Ben off here was a stupidass decision.

And here's why: you've effectively splintered his arc in half. Starting from season 3, Ben is an entirely different character, with an entirely different arc that needs to be built from the ground up. While everyone else gets 4 seasons of development, Ben only gets 2, both times. And I'm so not over the fact that his arc isn't over. We saw Ben do some reprehensible shit to Klaus, especially in season 2 with all that possession shit! And we just. Never hear from him again? That's bullshit.

But anyway, since we're here, let's make peace with being here. Hey, Justin H Min is still playing a version of Ben, and he seems interesting, if way different! Surely this will have some interesting implications.

Sparrow Ben

Oh god, Sparrow Ben. In terms of Ben's character writing, season 3 is... fine. Like I said, it suffers from effectively fracturing his arc in half and having to start over, and this isn't the complicated, kind but frustrated and prickly ghost Ben I originally fell in love with. But ok, I do like Justin, and EA rep is still a win to me, so let's go with the flow.

For the most part, season 3 does a solid job. We get some solid beats relating to Ben's ambition and inferiority complex being Number 2. There's a bit of overacting on Justin's part, but hey, that's camp. (I think. I have no idea if I'm using that word right. Am I hip with the kids?)

I really, really loved Ben's moment with Sloane as she's getting married, because it highlights the core of this Ben's character: someone who desperately yearns for family but has forced himself to be all hard shell and soldier. In a way, he's the other end of Brelly Ben's spectrum. (Like forsterite and fayalite - all Mg on one end, Fe on the other.) How much of this Ben is family softness, how much of it is defense mechanism and lashing out?

And then of course - the thing I've been craving so badly - the in-universe comparison to Brelly Ben. This was done... underwhelmingly, if I'm honest. I liked that Ben had a moment of crisis where he couldn't live up to the Umbrellas' dead version of himself, and his moment with Klaus was nice, but in light of season 4 it becomes clear that we could have had more. I wanted him to have an entire arc about it - after all, it's a pretty significant aspect of your character to be "the worse version of yourself from another timeline." (Refer to @vyther16's Gongye Jiwu fic.) I feel like there's a lot of meta you could pull from that, about how your siblings who aren't your siblings look at you and see someone different. Someone you won't be. Someone you can't be, even if you tried, so why bother trying? And they really don't dig through that at all, which is disappointing.

The tentacle samurai fight is badass, though.

Season 4

Oh buddy oh boy. There's so much dumpster fire here, but I'll start with the season 3 loose ends and then move on to season 4's own problems.

1) Sloane. Luther picks Ben up from prison, so I thought they might have an interesting bonding moment over Sloane - after all, they're the two people who cared most about her. But actually no, apparently Ben doesn't give a shit about the one real sister he actually had left at the end of s3.

2) The subway thing. Wasn't he in Korea? My grasping-at-straws ass truly thought that might have been Brelly Ben in the reset timeline, and we'd get a Ben-Ben confrontation or a battle in the minds thing. But I guess that doesn't matter.

3) The Jennifer Incident. So we all know that everyone forgetting about an incident they explicitly reference is stupid, right? Especially because the name Jennifer only exists because they reference it in s3. Ben obsessively draws Jennifer, and then he doesn't recognize or know her? Kill me.

The continuation of his arc is also just sloppy, if it even exists. No more identity crisis about being the worse Ben, no more secret yearning for family or inferiority complex about being a good soldier. Suddenly his arc amounts to, uh, being an asshole and getting hit with sex pollen so powerful it ends the world.

And look, there is a world where Sparrow Ben spiking everyone with marigold could parallel with Brelly Ben's consent problems with Klaus. There is a world where Sparrow Ben dying because of Jennifer could echo Brelly Ben's death in a haunting, tragic, destined kind of way.

But, uh, none of that happens. Here we are, finally getting a Ben-centric season, and it's this. Being relegated to a plot device in your own season. Looking back and realizing that you were always the plot device, even in season 2. Carrying all that tragedy in your little ghost body and being treated like Chekov's waterlogged gun.

And I can't help but look back at season 1, Klaus trying so desperately to prove Ben's existence, and contrast it with the literal next season where a single throwaway line from Klaus sidelines Ben for a whole season. And then he dies. And he dies again.

Fucking hell.

It feels like I'm being made a fool of. Oh, you cared about this East Asian character? You wanted him to have narrative weight and character presence instead of being a plot device for the benefit of his White brothers? Idiot.

Because you'll still be here anyway, right? You'll grasp onto your crumbs for a cool EA character, you'll let us run a character through a trash compactor and keep pretending he's a good character because you latched onto this one East Asian protagonist and you don't want to admit that maybe you should have let go years before.

#the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #meta

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thebottomfromhell · 3 months ago

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hello, I hope you have a nice day!

I never requested here, so I'm not quite sure how to word this but..you had this one post about the 'children' upper moons taking care of a sick reader, and I got curious how the adult ones would deal with it?

Do not worry, we got you! It's a lovely request, one I can do with more ease than some others. I hope you liked the result, sorry for the wait.

From now on I will try to submit 1-2 request per month, last year was exhausting, idk if this one will be much better, but I will try to keep updating.

Uppermoons taking care of sick GN Reader

Warnings: Emeto (not as a kink), Manga spoilers, Angst, Implied Reader's death (Gyokko), Implied sexual content, Mentioned cannibalism, & Many of these people are their own warning of negligence,

Gyutaro:

There is something scary about sickness, something that repulses, something that makes anyone who suffers it aware of how weak their body is, and in the right circunstances, something that leads to death itself. Gyutaro just know from his voice, his appereance and how his body has some ghost stings... he was a sick human. And in the back of his head he remembers how he was terrified the few times Ume got sick. Thankfully, she was already selected for training to be an oiran back then, and it was a simple cold. They got her medicine, and Gyutaro has seen enough sick coutesans to know what to do.

Your body hurts with a trembling tiring cold and a head aching fever that reflects in the colors of your body. Your eyelids have a hard time staying open, your stomach feels both hungry and too full, as you also feel as if the more steps you take, the more it's contents bounce in your throat. There is also this hard time breathing by your stuffy nose, you feel awful, you really should have stayed in bed this night. You can't tell the feeling when you are grabbed in a position that lets you rest. "Ne, why did you come here while you are sick? Are you an idiot? Ne?" Gyutaro says as he slowly, so you won't throw up, brings you somewhere with a bed.

Gyutaro makes sure to cover you while making tea, not letting you loose liquid in your body, bringging you tissues and doing his best to regulate your temperature. He probably can ask Daki to send someone for medicine, but for now she is working. Still, he can make sure you don't get worst. "Try to sleep a little, ne. I will take care of you." You try to reach him, sight blurred as you speak with a sore and painful throat. "Gyu... Gyutaro..." He just gentle pats yous head, making you groan as the hand is warm against your burning face. "Ne, I will be here when you wake up. So don't worry about it, ne?" You nod, closing your eyes, feeling a cold towel over it soon after, falling asleep the second you feel comfortable.

Gyokko:

Does he look like a babysitter or a medic to you? NO, GODS NO! HE IS AN ARTIST! "Why are you- get out! Get out! You'll infest my pots with your ilness and destroy their magestic aura with those negative energies! Out! Out!" He said the secons he notices you are sick. Really, why did you have to go and make it his problem? He is not going to let you drag him out into something so... disgusting. The smell of sick humans has always been a giant turn off for him. Very bad pieces to work with.

And it's too easy to notice. You are pale, trembling, stuffed red nose, eyes bulging and wet, and you have an expression of being in pain he would like if it wasn't because of the state of your face. It's clear that you knew you were sick and decided to go to him anyway, as if he would take care of you. Fat chance! "Gyo..." Gods above and below, you also sound awful! You can't even finish saying his name with how painful it is to talk! "Just don't bother me when you are like this! Go home!" Except... you don't know if you can. You feel really tired and cold, your tongue feels too big for your mouth giving you a nausea sensation, your head hurts and you have a hard time keeping your eyes open.

You look at Gyokko, hoping he will understand, and after a while he gives the most annoyed and disgusted scoff ever. "Urg, FINE! I guess you can go sit somewhere, JUST GET AWAY FROM MY PIECES! SPECIALLY THE LIVING ONES! I'll check you up later or something, I guess." You nod and do just that, Gyokko doesn't have a bed so you just sit with your back against something. It's not comfortable, but at least you can rest. You should have stayed home, you think as you close your eyes. Just... rest for a little bit... until you fall asleep, and Gyokko never checks on you....

Hantengu:

Oh no! OH NO! OH NO! This is bad, this is very, very bad! You don't look so good. Are you dying? You can't die! He might as well be blamed! He can't! He can't! He- "Han.. Ha-" you tried to talk to him, but the pain in your head and belly, and the tightness in your stomach, won over as you felt your throat trying to spot your last meal from coming over, ultimately failing with the disgust of the flavor of acid mixed with the food and the textures made you react and throw up. Then Hantengu just... stares.

You should have stayed in bed. Your head hurts too much and you tremble due the cold you feel and effort everything suddenly has. Hantengu looks at you for a few seconds before picking you up, slowly and softly. His flesh is cold, but more comfortable than the ground. "You... you should go back to sleep." A memory, did he have a wife? A daughter? A son? Maybe a sister? A brother? He can't tell whatever the figure is, it's blurred and constantly changing, but he has taken care of people before. The same way he has killed people before.

He brings you home, directly to bed and starts to prepare tea, maybe he can steal some medicine and leave everything besides you. Then he will leave, he can't stand being near you in this state. There is a knot in his throat and chest, his hands tremble harder than usual, he hates it. You sleep in the conforts of your bed, having already let the exhaustion take over once you were in his arms. You wake up again later, still dark, Hantengu is nowhere to be seen, but there is a hot pot of water, herbs, a bucket of cold water with a piece of cloth and medicine besides you. That is all you can ask of him.

Sekido:

You've done it. He has told you several times to take care of yourself, that you are weaker, human. And what do you do? You don't take care of yourself. Fuck you. No, not literally, you are in no condition for such thing. Why do you insist on making him mad? "I told you to cover yourself, now look at you. Sick in the middle of winter. Do you want to die?" He asks angry as he glares at you, he knew this would happen so he went to yout home, and you definetely deserve the "I told you so" speech he wants to still give you.

But he doesn't, instead he looks at you, still in bed, nose full of knots, pale body with red face, trembling, tired and pained eyes, so he growls one last time before silently, still glaring his hands, he goes to the kitchen to boil some water and get a bucket of cold one, making sure to make tea. You wait for him to come back, being able to hear some movement in the kitchen. He comes back with things in a tray, he remembers the sensation of being ill from his human life. That feeling of weakness angers him to no end, but at least he knows what to do. "Se-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

You obey, more from the fact that your throat hurts like hell than from the fact that he screamed at you, even if the volume dis make you a bit dizzy. But you also trust that he will take care of you, he always does, even if he hates every second of it, and you learned not to take it at heart. You know he loves you, even if his condition limits his emotions, he does show it the best he can. But for now you are too tired to really think about it, and decide to take advantage that you are going to be taken care of, closing your heavy eyes before going to sleep as you feel the cold piece of cloth against your forehead. That is better.

Karaku:

"Well... this is something..." Karaku was always aware you, as a human and full individual yourself, could feel and experience things he didn't, those things being mostly weaknesses. He is aware that you can get sick, he always was, but in a different way he is aware that you can get tired, hungry, hurt, and many other problems linked to humans' weaknesses. Those are things he has to deal with whenever he is with you, you getting ill is not. This is the first time he ever sees you sick, after all.

"Em... what... should we do? Can you sleep it off?" Thank the gods his emotion is not pride, because his lack of knowledge is embarrasing. The thing is that he is pleasure, he doesn't get to relate and subconciously pocess memories of illness from the main body. He has no idea what to do, and you look awful. AND FEEL awful. Your throat and nose are full of knots, your eyes are wet and heavy, everything is freezing and burning at the same time, your head hurts. Sleeping it off sounds tempting.

Unfortunately, you know that is not how it works. If you try that you will wake up feeling worse, or dead in the worst case scenario. You shake your head as you stand to go to the kitchen, already knowing that talking might hurt and not even wanting to try, and he follows you, watching as you boil tea and take some medicines. Karaku doesn't talk nor does anything, he just stays nearby, sitting besides you when you go back to bed. He is still there when you wake up, this time with more tea, medicine and some rice besides you. He is trying, that is comforting, and you do get better at the end, even if he didn't do half of what he ends bragging about. Fuck Karaku, probably in the nice way when you get better.

Urogi:

He doesn't understand what is happening at first, he has to actually remind himself that such a thing as ilness and sickness even exists. As a demon, he is inmune to all of that, as a joy demon he doesn't even has the shadows of what it felt like as a human. So he is very little aware of the situation, like a pet not understanding ehat is going on, only that you are tired, probably feeling a little bad, but still doesn't get the concept you need certain cares in particular unless trained. That is exactly what happens, Urogi starts acting like a cat. "Are you feeling better already?" A very clingy and annoying cat.

While you have a horrible headache, your body switched between being too cold and too hot, you feel you will throw up if you eat anything, a sore-pained throat and you have a hard time breathing... Urogi gives you a harder to breath by cuddling on top of you. He always forgets how heavy he is for you, now that you are sick it's worse. "You are awake! Are you feeling better now?" No, you are not, but he looks you with such a big happy eyes you pretend to not feel awful. You decide to not push him off to go to the bathroom and then boil some more tea until it's unbearable. He follows you around the house, trying to talk to you as you are too tired to even look at hin while you midlessly walk through the house.

Urogi really doesn't understand, but he still just keeps staying with you, sleeping in the same bed as you, following you through your routine, even begging to be let in when you decide to take a bath or go to the bathroom, constabtly asking if you feel better already, of you can play with if, if you are not bussy... it's a miracle this boy has not killed you already, because with how little rest and peace he gives you you swear the time it usually take you to heal duplicated. But you healed, at least.

Aizetsu:

It's sad, you know? How weak humans are. You could die from this, many humans did in the past, but unlike them, you have medicine and someone taking care of you. But how sad that someone is a demon, whos pathetic existence is not to take care of human, but to break them, open their bodies, bite out their organs and eat. Then again, sick people where never the most edible, more a matter of taste than anything else, so you might have been saved even if he didn't care about you as he does. "Y/N, you need to drink more tea." That doesn't change the fact that he has never done this before, so he reads several books, following exactly what they tell him to do. He has one in his lap right now, holded gently by his hands.

"I'm fine Aizet-" You can't even finish the sentence before coughing, you are definetely not fine. The clone thinks he has some echoes of the main body's memories, subconcious, but still there. The is a sense self-pity when one is sick, he can tell that much, but Sekido might remember more than he does. At least he can be logical enough about it to know that your body's temperature is not normal, so he can try to get it back as always while keeping you hidratated. There must also be some medicine of some kind.

Still, his knowledge is very limited. Had it being a wound, he would at least have an idea of what to do, having enough experience with human bodies. What breaks them, what tears them, what pierces them, how and why. But this? It's a pitiful state he never had to face. "Do as I say, your stubborness makes me sad." But he still tries his best to take care of you, not afraid to ask for tips as if, what medicines are available or what can you eat. "Thank you for taking care of me, Aizetsu..." He doesn't answer that, just... keeps going with the pity, as always.

Nakime:

Unfortunately, she did tend her husband most of the time he got sick, even if he never returned the favor if she catched some of it. She can barely remember whatever she did back in the days, considering they didn't exactly have money for medicines that now she can access to with her powers, unnecesary by her new nature. She was glad of that until now, because she didn't want to remember her time as an unappreciated artist and wife, but now that you need her... she wishes she remembered a little more. "Nakime..." you call for her, she makes some tea. You can't see her as she is in another part, wall from your point of view, but you can hear her speak, even if you can't hear what she does. "Don't talk if it hurts you. You'll only make it worse."

You have the decency of doing as you are told, she also fixes some medicine, hoping that it's the best one for whatever you are feeling. She never though she would find herself doing housewife chores again, yet here she is, taking care of you. With the sound of her biwa she goes back to you, the noise makes your head ache, making you grit your teeth, but she ignores it. You need to stay in a darker side and she would rather not have you exposed to more loud noises than needed. One biwa note every few hours should be something you can manage. "Your temperature is still high. Drink your tea and medicine, then ho to sleep." She puts a wet cloth in your forehead, making some of the pain in your head subdue. You nod, not really wanting to fight her on this.

Nakime gives a look, she really hates having to do this work, specially with the phantom memories that she has, but she is going to tolerate her own disgust for you. You cough a little after drinking the tea with her help, too hot for you. Still, she is patient and holds it before you until you can try and drink again. "Tha-" "Don't. Just... take better care of yourself next time. Besides, I just told you to not talk." You finish the tea and lie down with her help, feeling too warm, drained, tired. You close your eyes as she looks at you more, and waits until you fall asleep to leave the room, letting you rest.

Akaza:

Coughing was a familiar sound for Akaza, even if he doesn't know why. There is a sense of home with it, but at the same time a fear and desesperation building up in his chest. This feeling surges up when he sees you pale, trembling, eyes having difficulties to stay open, red cheeks, and your throat makes weird spasms. "Sit down, slowly, let me help you. You are about to throw up." He brings a towel and gestures to to throw out in it, rubbing your back as you do. Everything about it is gross, the smell, the sounds, the sensation of acid and solids up your throat, the tightning pain in your stomach...

Yet Akaza doesn't seem to mind any of it, just getting rid of the towel once you are done. "Stay like that for a moment, I'm going to give you something to drink. Small sips, ok? Then you can sleep." He is careful, methodical, every step memorized and displayed naturally. You have seen Akaza preactice his katas, he is lethal, fast, unhinged, even sadistic. But you know from every time he holds your hand, that he hugs you, that he listens to you, look at you... this gentle, caring, and serious part of him is... it's also Akaza.

"Don't speak, here is some tea. Grab it with me, I will help so you won't drop it. Be careful, though... it's barely stopped boiling." It can only be Akaza. "Here." He helps you to drink, the sips are uncomfortable, but it's the better alternative. "Good, I'll make you some okayu. You should sleep for now. Lay down slowly." He helps you sgain, and you feel like you can rest.

Douma:

"Oh, my! Look at you, Y/N! You are sick! You definetely have a fever!" Douma would know, he has seen several of his followers get sick, even if he has never gotten sick himself, not even as a human. It was as if he wasn't allowed, with the care everyone always took of him. He can easily recognize the symtoms of fever. Pale body with red face, tremblings, eyes tired and pained, person saying it's cold when their body is actually very warm, stuffy nose, weak and sore throat that coughs. Really, he has seen it more than once.

On a cool fact, he can also recognize some terminal illnesses, like Tuberculosis and (that's a common one). Every now and them someone sick comes praying to Douma as they seek aid from the gods, yadda, yadda. Most manage to extend their lifespan in Douma's cult, so they keep believing the lie and so. Still, he has never seen or being part of the few one that get cured of their colds and so (just 100 years ago they died so quickly, but they die less and less from it now a days). "Dou... douma..." you call for him as he goes to a servant.

"Bring Y/N to the medics, silly little thing came to me instead. Proceed as always." He says and you are taken away. You have medicine of great quality, meals and drinks are specially disposed for you to heal, with Douma visiting every few hours. A part of you yearns for his presence and his care, but a more logical part is grateful he just sended you away to be taken care of. Who knows if you would have survived being "healed" by him. "Don't worry, Y/N. You should feel better in a week or less. I will be waiting." He says before leaving you alone to tend his followers. This doesn't mean a thing for Douma.

Kokushibou:

There is a memory he doesn't remember, but he can feel it there. His brother started coughing and trembling with a pale body yet red face, he saw their mother go off to see him a lot, surrounded by a matress to cover up. Yoriichi didn't make a fuss at all, even ill. Michikatsu would slide some candies and copy their mother in bringing hot cups of tea (he didn't manage to get the medicines), the infusion badly made by a 6 year old Michikatsu. His father slaped him so hard he fell to the ground when he catches the cold, realizing where he got it from. Somehow, Yoriichi never got sick ever again. Now you are sick, and Kokushibou wants to leave.

He shouldn't be wasting his time taking care of you, not that he would how. It's been so long since he could actually get sick, he doesn't know what to do in those cases anymore. Did he ever know? He had a wife and kids, but he has no memory of ever taking care of them, that was the medic's and servant's job, not the husband's one. But he ia not a husband to you, that means he has less responsibility still. Then why ia he keeping you company? He can barely meditate, for some reason you being sick makes him nervious. "Ko... Kokushibou..." You call for him in bed, your head hurts, it's hard to breath and you feel cold yet burning at the same time. "Don't speak." If he says that out of concern of your sore throat or out of his confort in silence, you can't tell.

He makes tea, he has always known how to make tea. Basic ettiquete, he calls it, saying it's not worth praising even when he makes the best tea you ever tried. And he makes you drink tea and bring the medicines you have stored, not administrating them, just getting them near you do you can help yourself. Besides that, he just stays besides you in silence. There is a strange comfort in that.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #sekido #gyutaro #hantengu #kokushibou #akaza #douma #nakime #gyokko

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11-asher-11 · 29 days ago

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proofs of shifting (for me) and why is not lucid dreaming, allucinations or anything likes that

1. Trends dies, shifting never died in internet

if shifting was a trend of 2020 wouldn't it be death by now? why the community keep growing? simply shifting wasn't know, it exsisted online even before 2020 but ofc people didn't talk about it. They would have been seen as crazy in their opinion. But in 2020 it became popular, i have no idea why? no ones know, it could be someone manifestation, it could just meant to be like that in this universe and honestly one day it would have happen anyway no? it's just been in 2020 but it could be 2017, 2028, even 2347, BUT it happens now. That's more good than you think. People tend to hate 2020 but it has been also helpful to this community.

Also the fact that in on internet means anything? is just how people comunucate nowadays.

2. The community itself

Now. Y'all really think that people have so much free time to talks for hours abt it? for getting what? hate? called crazy? or maybe get diagnosed by a random stranger with schizophrenia?

People thought us that everyone lies, and if they do online is for attention, but what kind of attention is even that?. And guess what? people can be honest. Sure people lied but you can notice even online when someone lie and when someone doesn't.

Also in this community ppl think is full of teenagers or something but actually is full of adults. There are old shifters, even just on tiktok we have a shifter of like 80 years old. Why a 80 years old would lie?

3. Difference from lucid dreaming

So that's so stupid just to explain. LUCID DREAMING. it means you KNOW that you're dreaming. IF IT FEELS REAL IS NOT DREAMING.

Also there are many difference, in lucid dreaming rarely you have all senses and how much I know is impossible to smell things .

Also (that example is weird 😭) if you have like..a sexual intercuse in a dream after the orgasm you would wake up (that's basically proven), BUT by shifting is not like you "wake up" after you had sex.

Also in a lucid dreaming you have to wake up in a way or another, by shifting you don't. You just decide and also you can decide to never shift back here.

4. Allucinations and schizophrenia

GUYS. pls don't diagnosticate ppl with mentally illness. IS HARMFUL for ppl who really suffer it.

First schizophrenia is usually diagnosed by young age but you can get diagnosed after, but what are the effects of schizophrenia. For what is found you see/hear things that don't exist in an ambient that ALREADY EXIST. IT DOESN'T CHANGE THE WHOLE REALITY. the same with allucinations . Sure us shifters aren't immune to that (unless you manifest it) but definitely is understandable the difference from shifting and allucinations.

What about psychosis? auto-psychosis is possible but still it has something kind of rules. It can be done if you have mentally illness, there are religious psychosis ofc, by stress and drugs BUT IS STILL REALLY RARE. and still is seeing things that aren't there. NOT A WHOLE DIFFERENT ASS REALITY.

Also y'all know that most shifters that SHIFT are on medication to NOT have psychosis, allucinations or against schizophrenia? if is really just allucinations why they still can while on medication?

5. Old books

there are old books that talks abt shifting (ofc not calling him shifting) like Robert Monroe (his books are targeted as cultism and i literally have no idea of why but is probably bcs is a old book) or like Neville Goddard.

Ofc for some people all of this is not a proof of anything and IT'S FINE. i personally think the best way to prove shifting to yourself is doing it. AN YOU WILL IF YOU WANT/DECIDE.

HOPE IT HELPS. if y'all have other proofs or things to say about this post i'm opened to talk about it. Byee!

#loa blog #loa tumblr #loablr #loassblog #loassumption #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting blog #shifting community #desired reality

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solitary-traveler · 1 year ago

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Ascent to Oblivion part 2 - echoes of regret

He wanted you to awaken, yet he’s not sure why. Maybe he wanted answers. A reasonable explanation for your absurd actions.

Notes: Ahhhhh, I'm finally free again! I'm so sorry for not posting for a while, I was busy. Anyways, thank you so much for being patient with me. Part 2 is finally outttt. Also, tried a new writing style? I decided to go for less editing on this one, I want to see if it's better in terms of writing emotions. Thank you for 100 followers btw. You guys are the best <33

Warning: reader is not traveler btw, scara's pov after the battle, slight angst?

Peace was a luxury that Scaramouche could never afford.

How could he, when the treachery was etched in the steps of his past ?

Yet the solitude that submerged the city of Sumeru leaves a bitter taste resting on his tongue. He settled beside a statue of the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, overlooking the city she once presided over. The region he was supposed to subjugate and bend to his will.

For once, he’ll be the one exercising control, toying with the strings of his very own marionette play. He’ll devote himself to the role of the puppeteer, finding delight in engineering the people to act according to his words and his words alone. To constrain them to kneel and beg for mercy, manipulating their resolve for his own amusement.

But alas, it was not meant to be. For he had been defeated by a pesky Traveler and their idiotic companions.

Scaramouche’s face soured.

What a disgrace.

His sharp eyes remained its scornful glare at the city. He can not stand staring at the tranquility he yearned to have. The gentle winds that rushed his way seemed to mock him further . It left a lingering caress on his cheek, offering a taste of what he’d been missing for 500 years. He scowls, the hatred evident in his features. A flurry of fallen leaves soon crashed in his direction, dancing away as it avoided him to catch up with the gust of air. One such leaf had landed on your face though, as you lay asleep beside him. He had almost forgotten he brought you here on a whim, despite the Lesser Lord Kusanali’s warnings.

Their conversation was still fresh in his mind. Having visited you a few times everyday, the Dendro Archon’s attention was caught. She harbored a small smile on her tiny face, her voice warm as usual.

“You don’t have to come here everyday you know?”

He recalls sighing in reply, “I know.”

“But I have to”

Have to, huh?

His answer never really made sense, even to him. He doesn't know why he possessed such a strong obligation to see you. Maybe it had something to do with the turmoil of emotions he was experiencing, raging in his non-existent heart and influencing his thoughts. He wanted you to awaken, yet he’s not sure why.

Maybe he wanted answers. A reasonable explanation for your absurd actions.

Scara still remembers that day. Every single detail. He can’t forget how your body pressed against his, the metallic red a cool contrast to his overheating skin. The way your arms encompassed around him, squeezing him tightly like you were terrified he’d vanish without a trace. He recounts the smash of the debris falling on you, a consequence you suffered for attempting to shield him from danger.

A stupid move, really.

He was a puppet, a mere rubble like that was not a threat to his utility. Yet you , with all your mortal characteristics, decided to play hero and shelter him from it. Now look where that got you.

Asleep .

For two whole weeks.

Why even bother doing something like that? He wasn’t someone you’d want to save. He had hurt you prior to his fall, yet with no hesitation, you jumped to catch him.

…You dumbass.

What’s so special about him anyways?

He was nothing more than a discarded puppet, a vessel that was tossed away. A broken doll who's shattered pieces had crumbled to dust, leaving behind a shell of who he once was.

What part of him was worthy of your adoration? To the point where you disregard your safety just to come to his rescue?

He was insignificant. A failure . A worthless scrap of metal.

The despairing sobs he vocalized that day served as a reminder that his existence was a mistake. He plummeted to a time in the past when a shed tear sealed his fate to be discarded. He expected you to do the same.

Yet you didn't .

You didn't abdicate him. You didn't push him away. You simply emboldened your hold and refused to let go. Your touch brought such fervor ardor he had never felt before, a fleeting emotion that loiters within his senses despite the passage of time. Your touch provided him the solace he'd been searching for. But did he even deserve that comfort?

He eyes your complexion, and his chest burns. What a cruel play by fate, charming the wires of affection out of his grasp and awarding it to you like a trophy.

If only you didn't catch him, then he wouldn't be this troubled.

If only you let him fall.

If only you never cared.

The burn starts to grow, the searing sting tormenting the foundation of his being. His stomach lurches, oh how badly he wants to throw up. Maybe he'll end up vomiting all these useless feelings too.

He wills to change the past, for a preferable outcome in the future. If he never existed, this dilemma would cease to exist. He wouldn’t have to suffer, and you would go on your merry way. Like a parallel line, your paths would never be bound to meet. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be asleep in the first place. Maybe you’d be out there somewhere, roaming Teyvat with the Traveler without the hindrance of his presence.

His existence bordered between pain and fury anyway, and he knew more than anyone how it was certainly a life not worth prevailing.

With a sigh, Scara narrowed those eyes of his in your direction. How dare you look so peaceful when he's over here, drenched in a scorching passion of self-hatred? The audacity to just remain there, with your pretty eyes closed, and not bother doing anything about it. He huffs, ready to hurl more insults at you. Maybe you’ll wake up from it, returning his jabs as you shoot him a dirty look. And yet…

“Sorry…”

Something entirely different tumbled out of his mouth. He blinks, barely registering the phrases ripped from his throat. Did he just-

“...I’m sorry”

Why was he apologizing? What was there to apologize for? He wanted to slander you for your interference in his life, not to beg for forgiveness.

A drop of water descends onto your cheek. Huh?

Was it starting to rain?

“...You idiot”

He stops. Has he always sounded like that? Strained… and distressed?

And why was his vision blurring?

“Please…”

The pang of discomfort bites him without a warning, and it hurts. It hurts so bad. His trembling hands reach out to you. He wants to nuzzle against your arms again, to have you drown out his sorrows in an act of intimacy he’s been longing for.

“Please wake up already”

Taglist: @featuredtofu, @slaylatus, @feikyuu, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @materialgrowll,

@lxkeeeee, @l4r1n3, @cicil-nema, @alaynac101-blog, @beomtorii2,

@strawbeewie,

@gravy-kfc, @kaeeelie, @pocketdroll, @ladyvelvette, @mmeatt,

@itzshizuyaxd, @swivi

Taglist for (possible) part 3??

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yamball · 8 months ago

Note

You seem like a very good source to ask 🙊 can you please explain the Makar thing and why the kraken hate him? I'm extremely new here, sorry if it's a stupid question

Hello!

It’s not a stupid question! I’m going to do my best to present the facts and why this is such a Thing lol. We’ll start with the specific reason it started, zoom out to ‘why are we STILL booing though??’, and then zoom out even wider to playoffs in general for extra context.

A note about this: I have my own personal feelings but I’m gonna try REALLY hard to stay neutral and simply present the facts of why this has happened and continued. This could be about any bad hit in the playoffs when it comes down to it. I am not here to convince anyone to boo anyone lol anon did not ask me why IIIIII would boo him, but simply why so many boo him. I will try to answer.

Another note: I’m not blocking out Makar’s name so I apologize for this coming up in Avs tags; I promise I didn’t mean to. We’re all floating in this fucked up algorithm and search feature anyway

1. Why Climate Pledge Arena boos Cale Makar

On April 24, 2023, the Kraken are playing Game 4 of Round 1 in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. The Kraken are down 2-1 going into this game, hoping to tie it at home.

Jared McCann has the puck but then plays it up. McCann is looking up, puck not on his stick, and Makar hits him into the boards. Video.

McCann is taken out of the game. Eberle wins it in overtime (series tied 2-2). Makar is suspended for one game. Here is Makar talking about the hit. The Kraken win the game he’s suspended for. (3-2). The Avs win the sixth game, but ultimately the Kraken win game 7 and the series. McCann is out for this series but is able to come back (and lose) the next series against the Stars.

Of the hit, McCann later reflected that he did want an apology but he got that it was playoff hockey. Here’s him talking about it.

So that’s why we initially booed, but of course…we are still booing. Even though we won the series. Even though Cale Makar is clearly not a goon, given his record. He also declined to settle it when they met in the next season.

I can’t speak for everyone but there’s a few reasons we still boo. But before we get to those reasons, I also want to point out some perspectives (some reflected in many Kraken fans!) on why the booing has gone on very long, perhaps too long for some people. You can make your own choices!

2. Why are we still booing, though?

The tension of the boos come from both inside and outside the house.

Fans of the Avs point out Cale’s record otherwise. It’s pretty spotless, and he’s not a guy who throws his elbows around. He doesn’t need to. He’s really talented lmao I hope no one is disputing that. But his fans love him for pretty clear reasons and seeing him get booed really intensely for over a year and a half appears very irritating for them.

They also tend to point out that Jared’s injury was not the worst injury to come out of that series. That honorific would go to Cogliano, who suffered a fractured neck at the hands of Captain Jordan Eberle (he was not captain then but it’s weighty now). He’s wearing a neck brace when he first holds his child, born just a few weeks after the hit. It’s pretty awful. But fans do point out that Avs fans never kept a grudge against Ebs like Kraken fans have kept against Makar. Could be a high road; could be the reality that Ebs and Cogs have been friends and teammates before, they had history beyond the NHL. I don’t know. But it’s true that Ebs escaped most derision from the fanbase. He did answer LOC’s proposal to settle it on the ice during the season opener after.

Some also point out that the Kraken won the series. That’s the reality — so why boo someone who ultimately didn’t have a say in the final result of the series?

I’m sure there are other reasons to let it go; Makar doesn’t seem to care. I’ve seen fans on either side of the aisle call for the Makar boos to be retired.

So why do we hold on?

I can’t speak for anyone and again, I’m not here to sway reasons for or against the booing. Here are some perspectives I’ve seen.

We may hold on because it’s Jared McCann. From the outside, people may not understand it. But Jared McCann is an emotional pulse of this fanbase. We are more protective over him than most of our players.

We may hold on because we would also welcome boos on Ebs or anyone else. I think this may be the most…amusing? Entertaining? I don’t know? response because it’s an implicit awareness that, no, Kraken fans are not claiming a moral high ground in booing someone for probably far too long, when looking at comparables. But this perspective is acknowledging that and also saying that no one is stopping others from booing any of our guys either.

We may hold on because…ugh. Bear with me. We may hold on because we don’t have much else to hold onto. I know. That sounds negative. But listen — when Avs fans point out their team’s obvious success in recent years and their MUCH better talent pool than the Kraken (sorry my friends but we gotta just admit this right now), it’s just kinda like…yeah. We don’t have much. We’ve won one series in our short little lives, so all those memories are SOOOO much more salient for us. Please don’t think this is me begging for folks to be sorry for us as we boo a guy — it’s just that the energy has to go somewhere and the cheers haven’t been as forthcoming. It’s just like…science or something. We are young and want to scream about something!

Adding in again that we just love Jared McCann. It cannot be overstated.

We may just hold on because it’s exciting to join together like this. Sorry to Makar for getting caught in the middle but we don’t really have much yet to focus on. It comes with history. And I know a favorite joke about our fanbase is that we don’t know shit about hockey or we’re still brand new to this but perhaps the real fan behavior are the players we boo along the way.

3. Playoff Tensions

We should zoom out just a little bit more, too, especially after that last point. The Kraken fanbase has been desperate for a true rivalry. We reallyyyyy want one and these rivalries tend to come and go in the regular season. It feels like a rite of passage, to be able to be initiated into true haterism.

You get there in playoffs. When the stakes are just higher.

The Kraken were not supposed to win that series. I’m not exaggerating when I say literally no expert, analyst, anyone thought the Kraken were going to win in prediction articles.

It’s just the fact: they were up against the more talented team on paper. They were up against the champions. This isn’t a cute underdog point; it’s that we were already angry. We won’t add onto this the drama around Nichuskin in Seattle but it’s a factor if we consider fanbase anger.

It’s a tough point of sports but even tougher in playoffs — your own guys are the good guys and the other guys are the REALLY bad guys. No matter who you try and convince me is the rosy-cheeked guy there…I’m not gonna buy it in those specific playoff situations at all. It’s so easy to get caught up in that; I am not immune and with the way these fanbases can still go at each other? That’s what happens.

You see it across fanbases; the Kraken aren’t special for letting playoff tensions bleed over. In reality, the Kraken perhaps are special just for booing a guy that most everyone else likes. Lowkey, I hope we never have another occasion to boo the way we do, but maybe this is just practice for that next enemy of CPA.

#hi anon this was way longer than you likely wanted #I’m not gonna tag this much bc it’s such a ramble #kraken lore

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missjomarch · 1 year ago

Text

Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight.

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks.

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you.

“Luke.”

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips.

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?”

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?”

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile.

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance.

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat.

“Fine, Jack.”

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.”

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed.

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place.

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl.

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months.

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving.

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him?

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked.

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.”

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?”

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window.

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.”

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest.

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare.

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.”

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.”

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it.

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face.

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke.

“How long have you been following behind me?”

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face.

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left.

“What’d I miss?”

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you.

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you.

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away.

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.”

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.”

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face.

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.”

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on.

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?”

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment.

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates.

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage.

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors.

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother.

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you. So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone.

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less.

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent.

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned.

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.”

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back.

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.”

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone.

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?”

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates.

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house.

“Someone hit me.”

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?”

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option.

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you.

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke.

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand.

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center.

“For what, love?”

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?”

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way.

“Mhmm. Lukey?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.”

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster.

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand.

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear.

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.”

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead.

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey.

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.”

“Luke.”

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’ Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality.

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.”

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything.

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.”

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself.

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.”

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.”

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him.

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?”

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?”

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself.

“Even Secretariat.”

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now.

#jay writes #luke hughes #nj devils #hockey

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