#cause he’s got all the fun brain trauma and radiation

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Me: projecting my dementia ridden dad onto junkrat

Sigma: I’m right here!

[floorpancakes]

hcs on the brain

[actual-changeling]

Ellie probably got some incredibly bare basics cooking classes cause FEDRA needs them to have that skill, but I think it starts and ends with "this is how you put shit together to be somewhat edible".

So once they get to Jackson and have their own house and a kitchen, Joel is the one who cooks at the beginning (dining hall and two people with hypervigilance and ptsd does NOT mix), and Ellie watches him sometimes. Joel definitely knows what he is doing, he did raise Sarah (+Tommy) after all, and after a week or two, when they have both had time to rest and their brains are less fatigued and stressed out, she asks him to teach her.

At first, it is mostly a mix of mild curiosity and her brain recognizing it as a useful survival skill, and it is a pretty tense situation for both of them; she has the need to impress him and does not know what to do with it or where exactly it is coming from. Joel is trying his best to explain why he does something and how to do it without cutting/burning yourself, but seeing Ellie handling a very big knife near a hot stove makes him anxious in a way he did not expect. Yeah, he has seen her handle her knife and shoot people but that knife is sharp and he vividly remembers the time Sarah accidentally touched a heated burner. On the other side, Ellie wants to be good at it and gets overly frustrated in a way she also did not see coming when it is harder than she thought; Joel makes it look almost effortless but the whole process is mentally exhausting and making something taste good is a fucking minefield.

Cooking lessons are messy and on bad brain days outright unpleasant, with Ellie having trouble focusing due to her dissociation and Joel growing increasingly restless as his anxiety edges itself on more and more. Once he passes a certain threshold, he keeps hovering behind her and chiming in with completely unnecessary warnings like "careful, the knife is sharp", and the silent implication that she is failing/incapable pokes at Ellie's trauma (not that Joel actually means it that way, but reminding herself of that doesn't stop the cold pinch in her heart). It causes the cloud of static in her mind to thicken, and as a result her movements become more clumsy, which then makes Joel even MORE anxious. The whole lesson turns into a small spiral neither of them likes to see happen, but they also do not know how to make it stop, and after a memorable instance of burned black sludge coating their pans when she got distracted and a barely edible result, they both need a break for a few weeks.

Ellie feels incredibly useless and inadequate because this shouldn't be hard! Cooking looks easy and she does know how to do it, she really does! Somehow she is just really fucking bad at doing it with Joel around, her body can't decide whether she wants him as close as possible or far away, and the weird urge to impress him does not waver no matter how much she tells herself that it doesn't matter.

Luckily, there is one other person she can ask to teach her and that person is Tommy.

Compared to Joel, Tommy is the definition of relaxation and her brain is less conflicted around him, so when she comes over for the first time, the process and the end result are actually surprisingly easy and edible. They start with the few things she had already mastered and then work their way up, and Tommy is not Joel, he doesn't hover or throw her unnecessary warnings, he sits on a kitchen chair most of the time and does whatever while occasionally answering her questions or helping her out. Once she feels somewhat competent Joel also comes by, and with Tommy being fully unbothered and radiating peace, his anxiety calms more and more each time.

There is more to unpack than just cooking lessons, they all know that, but the day they prepare family dinner together, laughing and bumping into each other and making a mess of Tommy and Maria's kitchen, food becomes not just fun again but a way to connect, and it brings them one step closer to living with family instead of just surviving for it.

[canvas-the-florist]

Two Halves Make a Whole

Ship(s): Romantic Logince, Background Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Dukeceit, Creativitwins (they’re all friends okay I make the rules)

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention and mutilation of meat, alcohol mention, NSFW mention (not that much just like… saying someone had sex in a sentence), food mention, possible second hand embarrassment

Summary: The thing about idioms is that Logan has a hard time understanding them metaphorically, and tends to stick with the more logical reasons. Which can be confusing to the others when he starts calling Roman his “other half”. (Thank you to @hteragram-x for letting me use their post as inspiration <3)

Word Count: ~2.7k

-

   They had just finished up recording a video. Something about accepting trauma and accepting that you’re allowed to move on from it. Thomas went up to his room for a nap while Patton walked over to sit by Virgil on the stairs. Roman wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders with a big smile. “You did so well, Pocket Protector! Not as well as me but I’m sure you’ll catch up soon!”

   Logan rolled his eyes and moved out from under Roman’s arm and crossed his. “Thanks. You were… adequate as well. Despite messing up a three sentence line five times.”

   Roman let out a loud scoff attracting the attention of Patton and Virgil. Patton covered up a laugh with a cough that wasn’t very convincing. “It was a very difficult line, Logan! How dare you accuse Creativity of messing up!”

   “Did Princey mess up another line?” Virgil asked from his place on the stairs. Patton punched his arm, muttering that it was rude. “I’m just asking a question, Pops. I’m not intending to be mean.”

   “Virgil!” Roman was red in the face with embarrassment and turned back to Logan who had a small smile. Roman’s face softened slightly over his little giggle before remembering he was supposed to be upset. “Logan you sicked Virgil on me!”

   “I do not believe that Virgil is sick. If he is, we should attend to that immediately.”

   “That was an expression, Alan Boring.” Roman corrected. “Do you want me to add a vocab card?”

   “Yes, thank you.” Roman gave a thumbs up and sunk out. Logan walked over to the remaining sides. “Well, my other half is working on that I believe we should cover what to do to keep Thomas healthy during the editing process for the video.”

   Virgil fell down a step causing Patton to fall to the ground completely. Virgil coughed and moved back up while Logan just looked confused. “Your other half?”

   “Yes?” Logan pulled out a vocab card. “There is a theory that the brain is composed of two parts, logic and creativity. Two halves making a whole person. While this is not factual I thought the idiom would work with Roman and myself. Is that not correct?”

   “Logan-” Virgil started but Patton cut him off.

   “That’s really sweet that you’re picking up nicknames like Roman and I! I’m sure that Roman would appreciate it. Too bad he wasn’t here to see or understand your quip.”

   At this point Roman showed up with about three index cards in his hands. He walked over to the others staring at his cards as he moved. “Okay so I made the card but then I got distracted and doodled on these ones but I think they turned out okay. So, I want Patton’s validation on- Wait are you guys talking about the schedule without me? Rude.”

   “My apologies, Roman, we haven't covered anything important yet as I had to explain a joke but I would like your contributions to this conversation as well.” Logan gave a smile and Roman tightened his grip on the cards. “Are you going to hand me the card, Roman?”

   “Oh yeah, here you go.” Roman had a crush and didn’t want to do shit about it.

   The talk took awhile. Especially after Janus and Remus joined which was just chaos disguised as two sides. But that wasn’t the only chaos afoot! A few hours after the meeting and a lot hours past when Thomas should have been asleep, Virgil walked to Patton’s room, knocking on the door softly. Worried that he was too quiet he was about to knock again when the door swung open. Virgil quickly backed up to avoid accidentally punching Thomas’s morality.

   “Uh, hey Patton. Can we talk?” He asked, now fidgeting with his hands.

   Patton gave a concerned look but nodded and moved out of the way to let Virgil in. He closed the door and turned to Virgil with a comforting smile. “You seem nervous, kiddo. Why don’t you hold one of those plushies? That usually helps me.”

   He grabbed a bean filled one that looked like a tiny elephant without a mouth and beads for eyes. Virgil tossed it in between his hands for a few moments while Patton sat down across from him. “I’m just going to get into it before I talk myself out of it. Why didn’t you tell Logan about him using a pet name for Roman?”

   Patton blinked before smiling. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. Well, that’s an easy one Virgil! I think that this will be good for Logan. Using nicknames is something that an emotional side would do. This might be his way of opening up.”

   “Are… Are you sure? This seems more like… Deceit’s thing.”

   “Well, his name is Janus, Virgil and we don’t see eye to eye but I think that Logan becoming honest with his emotions is a good thing. You don’t agree and you can tell him if you want. I won’t take that from you. Just consider it.”

   Virgil held the elephant up to his face and sighed. He pulled up his legs so he was able to rest his chin on his knees. “I guess it would be embarrassing to know you’ve been using a word with romantic connotations without knowing it…” He made direct eye contact with Patton who was listening to what Virgil had to say. “You think this is going to be good for him?” He nodded and Virgil dropped his legs back to the ground. “Okay, we won’t tell him. I’ll tell him if he asks but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you.”

   “Thank you, Virgil.”

-

   Janus, Roman, Logan, and Patton were having a picnic in the imagination. Virgil and Remus decided not to go for separate reasons. Virgil mumbled something unintelligible and hissed at Janus before sinking out quickly while Remus was busy painting over a copy of Vincient Van Gogh’s “Two Rats” with what seemed to be blended pork rinds and blood. Janus had a cup of wine, Patton had a capri-sun, Roman had a lemonade, and Logan just had water. They were having a… civil conversation on whether 100 lions or 100 pokemon would win in a fight.

   “Bitch you know that pokemon would win!” Roman yelled pointing at Janus dramatically, who was nursing his wine. “They have magic powers! Lions are just animals!”

   Janus took a sip and let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pokemon are over glorified rats at most.”

   “Why do they have to fight at all?” Patton asked, pretending not to enjoy Janus and Roman having a conversation that wouldn’t end in tears. He was genuinely upset about the fighting even if it meant two of his friends were finally interacting. “Couldn’t they just be friends?”

   “Do I have to be the one to point out that pokemon don’t exist?”

   Roman stuck out his tongue and picked up his glass again. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

   “Very well, if my other half says so. The lions would win.” Logan reached for an orange slice calmly as Janus raised an eyebrow. Roman was so offended by Logan’s side of the story that he didn’t even notice Patton trying not to choke on his drink.

   “Oh so you’re on the Lying King’s side?”

   “Lions hunt in a group and as I understand pokemon they fight one at a time in a turn based system. For a fight the lions would have a higher advantage.” Logan put the slice in his mouth while Roman narrowed his eyes.

   “What about legendaries?!”

   The fight continued for thirty minutes and Patton decided that the picnic was over. Janus came back to the dark side and hung up his cape in his room. He turned to Remus. “How did the painting go?”

   “Oh just wonderful, the entrails made a smiley face! Look!” Remus held up the canvas too close to Janus’s face. He took a step back and looked it over. If it wasn’t covered in guts it did look rather intriguing and interesting to look at. Janus clapped his hands together.

   “It looks amazing, Remus. Better than the original!” Janus wasn’t lying (for once) because it was just a shitty thing to do when someone is asking for feedback on art.

   “Thanks Jan! How’d the orgy with the light sides and my brother go?”

   Janus shrugged. “Just detestable. The sandwiches lacked but I did find out some information. Were you aware that your brother and Logic are dating?”

   Remus put his hands to his cheeks with an over dramatic gasp. “You’re telling me that little Roman is boning the nerd?! This is the best thing that’s happened since radiation poisoning!”

   “Yeah, I agree. So, want to watch Into the Woods?”

   “Is that even a question dipshit?!”

-

   Roman, Remus, and Logan were going over the storyboards for the next Sanders Sides. Creativities and Logic. It was going well, and Roman was feeling confident that it was going to be fun, even if they definitely weren’t getting it out on time. Logan got up and stretched.

“We’ve been working for two hours and 37 minutes we should take a break. I will bring us snacks. Do you want anything?”

   “Strawberries.”

   “No thanks I brought my own.”

   “Okay, strawberries for my other half and an empty glass for Remus.”

   “Thanks Logan!” Roman hadn’t taken his eyes off the notes, scanning for any discrepancies or something that could be done better while Remus looked over his shoulder taking a bite of deodorant. They stayed in silence for a second before Roman felt Remus staring at him and finally looked up. “What?”

   “So how long have you and Logie-Poo been having sex?”

   “I… what? We’re not- Why would you assume that???” Roman’s face went red and looked incredulously at his brother.

   “Jan-Jan told me that you and Logan have been ‘dating’ two weeks ago. And he just called you ‘his other half’ like a gay person. Are you not…” Remus made a lewd gesture with his hands.

   “No! We’re not… Wait… his other half? Did, did Logan really call me that?”

   “Wow! You’re really oblivious!”

   “Umm, shut up!” Roman’s face turned red as he hid it in his hands, completely flustered and unsure how to react to the situation. Had Logan been hitting on him for two weeks? Had it been longer than that? Remus laughed at him and hit his back. Roman rolled his eyes and sat back up. “What should I even do about this? I’m kind of tempted just to hide this in the back of my head for five years or some sort of grand gesture… Those are romantic, right?”

   “Or you could just make out with him! Well, consensually.” Roman punched him and Remus just kept giggling. “He HAS been calling you a disgustingly cute pet name for a LONG ASS time, dude… Haha ass…” Remus seemed to space out after that so Roman sunk out and appeared again in the living room. And Logan just so happened to be reading a book on the couch. Roman blushed again and cleared his throat.

   “Logan I need to talk to you.”

   He raised an eyebrow, closing his book after putting in a bookmark. Roman’s fist clenched around his sash to calm his nerves. “You wouldn’t NEED to talk to me for any reason so I’m going to assume you mean that you have some information to convey to me?”

   “I… umm, yeah.” Roman took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Why… Why have you been calling me your ‘Other Half’?” He leaned his head back and tried to calm down. He’s had a crush on Logan for a while and there was a sliver of a chance it might be reciprocated. Roman kind of felt like crying.

   “Oh, that?” Logan took a deep breath in and smiled, not that Roman could see. “Well, there’s an incorrect theory about the right and left hemispheres of the brain being logic and creativity. Therefore, you would be my other half.”

   Roman didn’t look at Logan, trying not to feel too disappointed. “That makes sense. Thanks for telling me, Logan. I’ll see you later…” His hand dropped to his side and he got ready to sink out, focusing only on his breathing. He made eye contact with Logan to see genuine confusion on his face. Roman gave a smile and began sinking out-

   “Roman wait!” He stopped. Logan had stood up and ran up to him. “Is that not what you wanted? I’m going to be direct because this is confusing to me but… Roman do you reciprocate romantic feelings for me? Because I really want to date you!”

   He didn’t respond immediately. Roman searched Logan’s face and he seemed to be meaning this. The passion on his face almost made Roman melt. He nodded slightly and decided for the first and only time to take Remus’s advice. Roman leaned towards Logan, grabbing his tie, and kissed him.

-

  The sides were hanging out in the kitchen while they were all working together to make a fam-ILY dinner. Virgil was tapping his foot nervously while vaguely listening to whatever Remus was ranting about. Patton and Janus were putting together the ingredients for a vegetable pie (excluding carrots of course) while Logan was making orange juice. Roman sat on the counter bantering with Janus. He laughed loudly and boldly, wiping a tear from his eye when his snake friend made a particularly bad pun.

   “Roman, my other half, would you please pass over the raspberries?” Logan asked easily. Virgil grumbled nervously, looking over at Patton, who was in a flour-based food fight with Remus. He sighed loudly and walked over Logan, finally cracking.

   He breathed in, ringing his hands. “Logan you’ve been calling Roman a pet name this entire time! The left brain right brain thing isn’t why people say my other half! I’m sorry for not telling you but Patton said to!”

   Roman and Logan looked at each other before looking back at Virgil. Roman quietly handed the raspberries to Logan before giving a soft smile. “Didn’t you know? Logan and I have been together, Storm cloud. It’s been a pet name this entire time.” Janus snickered to himself while putting the pie in but decided not to say anything.

   “You have?” Virgil asked.

   Logan nodded. “Yes, Virgil. Roman and I are indeed in a romantic relationship. Now, we’re going to set the table. Grab the plates?”

   Virgil stayed speechless, frozen in the kitchen until he got hit on his shoulder with flour. Roman got out the forks and walked to the table while Logan continued stirring the orange juice concentrate. After the pie finished, Patton helped serve everyone. Virgil stayed silent, with his forehead leaning on the table in shame. Eventually he started joining the conversation, ignoring his own embarrassment.

   When everyone finished up dinner. Logan volunteered to wash the dishes and Roman was the slowest to put away the food, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. Roman gave Logan a hug from the back.

   “Your adorable, Logan.”

   “It’s ‘you’re’, Roman.” He corrected calmly, cleaning off a plate.

   “What? How did you- never mind. You ARE adorable, Logan. Even when you’re acting like a smartass.” Logan chuckled and twisted back to face Roman. He wrapped his arms around Roman to make it a full hug. “This is nice. I’m glad we’re dating.”

   “Even when I’m a smart ass, like you said.”

   “Even then.”

Taglist: @bullet-tothefeels @logan-sanders-enthusiast @local-art-cryptid @lizzy-lineart @jasmine-loves @justanonymous @enby-wizard @openthedoorplease @crossiantgay @meowthefluffy @as-the-stars-foretold @sablesides @thedukeofdeodorant-main

[bandaged-writer]

hcs for ranpo, dazai, akutagawa, and kunikida having a s/o with ptsd and a service dog, please? how would they react to rude / pushy people. Would dazai and aku try to hide their dislike of dogs. (I think watching YouTube videos by people with PTSD and service dogs are good and reliable resources. I like "service dogs & ptsd!" by "it's us" as a reference if you're interested! And you can ditch the ptsd part of you're uncomfortable; they could have a service dog for another reason.) Thank you! ❤️

Here you go, nonnie! <3 I’ve written these headcanons based on research and not actual experience, but please let me know if something is inaccurate or hurts you and I’ll take action immediately. 

Warnings: PTSD

Ranpo Edogawa

➤ He’s the one who has the most fun with your dog. Always cuddles the ball of fur, plays with him and sneaks him some treats whenever you’re not looking. Of course, Ranpo knows that your service dog isn’t there for entertainment purposes and also treats him like some kind of colleague since it’s the dog’s duty to make sure you’re safe and feel at ease.

➤ “You may be good at your job, but you’ll never be as great as me!”

➤ “Ranpo, he’s a dog.”

➤ In conclusion: trusts your dog but not as much as he trusts the safe with his candy in it. After all, a dog can eat your candy while a safe won’t do such a thing.

➤ Your dog adapted to Ranpo relatively fast considering his laid back nature and the self-confidence he radiates. At first, your dog was a bit wary of Ranpo getting too close to you and might have fixed his gaze on the man, but that quickly faded away and your dog loves getting his belly rubbed by the detective. He’s just a dog, after all ok.

➤ Ranpo knows what sets you on edge, makes you anxious or causes you to have flashbacks or relive parts of the trauma you’d rather forget. He tries avoiding places that are too crowded or could have a trigger and informs you about all the meetings you couldn’t attend.

➤ If you go to therapy, Ranpo will go with you, despite his occasional whining. That man could be wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito, whine something like “But [Name], it’s so cozy in here! Just reschedule or tell your therapist to come over!” but always ends up accompanying you if you want him to. 

➤ If you don’t go to therapy, then Ranpo will accept your decision. There’s no point in forcing you to go if you don’t want to. However, he’s always there if you need to talk about what happened and tries offering you some kind of advice on how to deal with situations or certain people.

➤ If someone makes a rude remark about you or your dog, Ranpo will reply with the same energy. “Wow, I didn’t know such stupidity can legally walk around.” He doesn’t take shit from anyone, especially if you’re in a vulnerable state at that very moment.

Dazai Osamu

➤ Dazai isn’t that bewitched by your dog and doesn’t hide his dislike about your companion either, but Dazai understands that you need your dog and learns to live with it. He still teases the dog for shits n giggles whenever you’re not around, though.

➤ Chances are your dog and Dazai kicked it off on bad terms. With Dazai being super clingy, all over you and sometimes a bit hyper, your dog could’ve thought that Dazai could make you uncomfortable or even trigger you at times, but your dog quickly learns that Dazai poses no threat and is actually helping you.

➤ Takes care of your dog when you’re sick, but only does the most necessary things like taking him for a walk, getting food and water ready and the likes. Sometimes, you can hear him arguing with the dog from the bedroom:“What do you mean you don’t wanna eat your food? You ate it when [Name] made it yesteday, you can’t fool me!”

➤ As much as Dazai dislikes dogs, he’s thankful that you got your dog by your side whenever he’s out on a case or the likes. He knows the dog will protect you and make you feel much calmer.

➤ Dazai is aware that PTSD isn’t visible to the human eye like a broken leg, but the switch within him flips whenever someone is rude towards you or drops a snide remark and draws an obvious reaction from you. “You might wanna repeat what you said if you don’t want to witness the next sunrise,” Dazai would say with an empty smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all. 

➤ Always there for you. You can call him, text him or spill your guts to him whenever you feel the need to and Dazai won’t complain one bit - even if it’s in the middle of the night. That man has also witnessed horrors early on in his life and knows how it affects one’s mental and emotional health, so he doesn’t want you to go through it alone.

➤ Holds you extra tight after a specifically bad nightmare or stays up with you and tells you about the time your dog deadass ran into the door if insomnia is kicking your ass.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

➤ Is also pretty open about his dislike towards dogs. No matter if that dog is merely a pet or a trained service dog - dog is dog.

➤ Akutagawa is very observant and quickly learns what your dog means by certain actions. Such as circling you is signaling others that they’re getting too close or when his snout is nudging your palm, he wants to get you out of tense situations. Maybe that dog does have the brains to take care of you.

➤ The two of them aren’t great friends. Akutagawa doesn’t like the dog and vice versa. It’s like they’re tolerating one another only because you’re always around and ready to scold both. Imagine Akutagawa being scolded by you tho-

➤ God have mercy on anyone who crosses your guys’ path and makes a rude remark. Akutagawa is very protective over you and doesn’t tolerate bullshit from anyone, but it’s even worse when such things are directed towards you who can’t really do anything about their condition. “You’re so disgusting that not even Rashoumon would want to tear you apart.”

➤ As tough as he is on the outside, Akutagawa cares a lot about you. On especially bad days, he will attempt to cook your favorite dish but ends up ordering takeout. Hands down, Aku isn’t one to cook often and when he does, it’s probably something very basic that won’t need a lot of preparation time. You do appreciate the thought and effort nevertheless.

➤ Advice or assurance from him is sometimes a bit harsh, but these are words you very likely need to hear and not want to hear. “Are you at fault that xy happened to you? No, so stop blaming yourself for it.” Akutagawa means well though, and honestly, it’s his actions that show that he doesn’t mean to be harsh towards you.

➤ It’s when he holds your hand when you’re anxious or lets you talk about your nightmares without interrupting you. It’s accepting your dog’s constant presence without kicking the poor thing out or trying to avoid possible triggers. Honestly, Aku is more of a action person than word person.

Kunikida Doppo

➤ You know those dads that say that they didn’t want a dog but end up being friends anyway? Yeah, that’s Kunikida and your dog. At first, Kunikida only sees your dog as a worker of society, but the more time he spends with your companion, the more attached he gets. Kunikida never admits it out loud though.

➤ The thing that really gets on Kunikida’s nerves is the fur. The amount of fur sticking to his clothes and yours sometimes drive him nuts - especially when it’s time for your dog to shed or thicken his fur. “One day, I’ll end up looking like your dog, [Name].”

➤ Since your dog is trained to read your emotions, Kunikida trusts the four-legged creature 100%. After all, it’s similar to a service for blind people, people with anxiety disorders, etc. He leaves for work more peacefully, knowing that your dog guides you through the day and watches out for you when Kunikida can’t.

➤ Has all your triggers written down in his book as well as how to avoid them and ease your anxiety about them. Kunikida has done lots of research on how to support people suffering from PTSD, the causes, symptoms and even directly asked you on how to help you. 

➤ Encourages you to go to therapy if you aren’t doing it already. Kunikida would never force you to see a therapist, but he thinks it’s in your best interest to do so and even offers to accompany you if it helps you in any way.

➤ Doesn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep because you suffer from a nightmare or insomnia. He’ll hear you out for as long as you need him to, but he might actually fall asleep on you, depending on how exhausting the day had been. 

➤ Much like Aku, Kunikida quickly learns the language of your dog and writes it down. Whenever your dog gives off certain signals, Kunikida watches out for the distance people are keeping, possible triggers or you yourself in general. He’s very thankful for your dog picking up your emotional well-being much faster than he ever could.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m…I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. “It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan 

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 3

WARNINGS: NONE

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @alievans007​

The clock reads 5:07 am when he snaps awake. Torn from a comfortable, almost pain free sleep by a nightmare. He hasn’t had one in three months; since the images of his wife’s brutalized and violated body in place of Erin Ferguson’s had finally subsided. That one had haunted him every night since returning from New Zealand; having him bolting awake, drenched in sweat, chest impossibly tight and making it difficult to breathe, tears streaming down his face. Those dreams had thankfully stopped just as fast as they began, and from that night on he’d been able to sleep reasonably well when paid didn’t wake him.

Tonight, he’d dreamt about Austin; the exact same images that he’d seen while dying on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. His tousled blond hair and his steel blue eyes and his sweet, innocent smile. Only this time he hadn’t been alone. Millie was with him and they’d been holding hand as they waded through the surf; talking and laughing as if they’d always known one another. Both smiling as they looked over their shoulders at him, holding their hands out towards them.  But when he’d reached out for them, they’d simply faded away, leaving him despondent and heartbroken and calling out for them.  It was then that he’d woke; eyes snapping open, feeling the sweat that beads on his brow and gathers at the nape of his neck and the small of his back, his lung fighting to draw a steady breath.  

It takes several minutes for his brain to register his surroundings; the smell and the sound of the ocean trickling through the screens of the wall to wall windows, his wife’s gentle, rhythmic breathing behind him,  the feel of her smooth leg pressed against his. She lays on her stomach, comforter pulled up to the back of her head, her bare feet sticking out at the bottom; the same sleeping position she’s had in the six years that they’ve shared a bed.  And he rolls over onto his side, fingertips gentle as they pull the comforter down to her shoulders and then brush her hair to the side; lips placing feathery kisses along smooth, warm skin, his palms sliding down her arms.

She gives a long, content sigh and her hands come up to rest over his; lacing their fingers together and then placing them against her stomach as she wriggles back into him.  “What time is it?” she inquires sleepily.

“Early,” he presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her ear.

“How early is early?”

“Quarter after five early.”

She groans. “What is wrong with you? Why do you insist on waking up at ungodly hours? You’re supposed to be retired.”

He’s been waking up at the crack of dawn for as long as he can remember, since his military days, and is able to function on little to no sleep. A trait that’s come in handy since having kids. Often the one that gets up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.  

“I told you,” his lips are on the side of her neck now. “I’ve got shit to do with Ovi today. And we have to go into Port Douglas. To my dad’s place.”  

The anxiety nags at him the second he mentions his old man. He’d reached out as soon as they’d moved back to Australia, but his father hadn’t requested to see him in person until a week ago. Sending him a text message in the middle of the night, rambling about things he needed done around the house and how he couldn’t handle them on his own. From what Tyler understood, the dementia was rapidly progressing; he had his good days and his bad days, and required a live-in personal support worker and a nurse that came every second day. He wanted to feel bad about it; that his old man was struggling. But the bitterness is still so raw; all the anger he’s been holding onto since he was a kid, the years he   had to listen and watch his father abuse his mother.  Abuse that was turned on him when he turned nine and his mum passed away. He can’t get past it; that rage that he hangs onto. The desire to teach the old man a lesson whether he remembers half the shit he’s done or not.

But he promised Esme he’d give it a shot, that he’d be the bigger man and try to put the past behind him, at least for the sake of his children. The kids deserved to spend time with their grandfather before it was too late, she felt. After all, her entire family -aside from Kyle- considered them dead.  Tyler could care less whether the kids ever saw his father, let alone spent time with him. Why expose them to someone that had caused so much agony in the first place?  

“Oh yeah…” she yawns noisily and rubs the side of her face against her pillow. “…and you’re okay with that?”

“How bad could it go? If things are as bad as his nurse says they are, he probably won’t even remember me. Maybe that’s a good thing; he won’t have a lot of shitty things to say about me or my mum.”

“Even if they aren’t that bad, don’t let him get to you. He’s a bitter old man who’s so miserable that he wants to make everyone else that way. I thought maybe he was turning over a new leaf when he’d contact me all the time, but…” she shrugs.  “Don’t let him get to you, Tyler. Just let it go in one ear and out the other.”

“We’ve been here six months and he’s called how many times? Twice? And never asked about the kids once? His only grandchildren?”

“I know it’s easy to take it personally, but if he has dementia, he likely doesn’t even remember even having grandchildren. He might remember you, but he probably doesn’t remember you have kids. I mean, Millie was two months old the first and only time he saw her.  And she’s almost six now.”

A little more than a month away. Until she hits that milestone. And he wonders if that is the reason behind the dream involving her and Austin. That she’ll be turning the exact age he’d been when he’d passed away. Part of him is even scared; that she’ll wake up that morning and be sick and it will turn out to be something horrible she will never recover from. It’s irrational and he knows it; the chances of that happening. But his brain doesn’t exactly recognize the difference between rational and irrational these days.

“Did the baby wake up?” she asks. “I thought you got out of bed earlier, but I didn’t know if it was for her or if you had pain or…”

“Around two thirty. I just got her a bottle instead of waking you up.”

“Baby, you’re the best. You spoil me. You let me sleep through the night, you let me take naps, you help me get off.”

He smirks. “Three times.”

“Yes…” she sighs happily. “…a very nice three times.”

“You almost woke the entire house the third time.”

She giggles into her pillow. “I can’t help it. You have that effect on me. If you weren’t so good at the things you do, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“If I wasn’t so good at them, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s true. I would have had my five days of fun and that would have been it. If you hadn’t known what you were doing, it would have ‘boy, bye’.”

He chuckles into her hair. “That’s fucking harsh.”

“Well you had nothing to worry about obviously because it’s six years and five kids later and I’m still keeping you around. You’ve got some skills.”

“Yeah? You’re decent, I guess.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” she huffs, and directs an elbow at his stomach.  

“I wish you could, actually.”

“Do you even have that in your cell phone? When the dry spy officially ends?”

“Maybe…”

“You have absolutely no shame,” she declares, and then rolls over to face him, pecking his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For being the way you are. With me. With your kids. You put the work in. Without complaining about. You don’t piss and moan when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night or when you have to do dishes or laundry or take the garbage out.”

“Any man who complains about all that is a little bitch.”

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of little bitches out there. I’m lucky,” she kisses him again. “Very lucky. You help out, and you’re eye candy. What more could a woman want?”

“A big dick? Oh wait…”

“See? You’ve got it all,” she laughs and tucks her head under his chin, an arm curling around his neck, fingertips gliding back and forth at the bottom of his hairline.  

He wraps his arm around her, drawing her tight against him, hand rubbing her back in slow, smooth circles. She feels so good; the thin fabric of her tank top against his bare chest, the warmth that radiates from her, the feel of her lips and her breath against his throat. He closes his eyes, finding himself easily lulled back to sleep; the sensation of her fingers against the back of his head and pain in his shoulder and back settling down to a dull manageable ache. Until it’s interrupted by the alarm on his cell phone.

“Really?” Esme grumbles, as he rolls over onto his back and reaches for the phone.  

“Really,” Tyler sighs, turning off the alarm and then staring up at the ceiling; mentally trying to prepare himself for the day.  

Even with the pain, it isn’t the physically challenges that hold him back. He’s learned to live with it and work through it. It’s all the bullshit that does on inside of his brain.  The anxiety, the illogical fears, the hypervigilance. All working together to make it extremely difficult to function as a normal human being. He can’t believe what he’s been reduce to; not even half the man he was six years ago. When he got stare down the barrel of a gun and not even blink. Now there’s moments where he can’t even go into a store without something triggering him and bringing back all the memories and the trauma.

“Do you really have to get up this early?” Esme asks, as she moves closer to him, resting the side of her head against his chest, her hand on his stomach.  

“I do.”

“Like you can’t stay in bed for like ten more minutes?” she drags a finger down to the waist band of his boxers. In the beginning stages of things, they’d both preferred to sleep naked; loving the feel of skin pressed against skin. But back then they didn’t have little ones that could sneak up and burst into a room unannounced. Making some clothes a must.  

“Not even ten more minutes,” his hand captures hers, moving it back up to his chest.

“Fine,” she huffs, and reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair.  

“Go back to sleep,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get the baby if she wakes up. I’ll bring her to you before you leave.”

“You’re a keeper,” she says with a smile.  “You’ve even learned to put the toilet seat down and put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

He grins and slips out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as she moves back over to her side of the bed; tucking one of his pillows underneath her head and then pulling the comforter back up past her eyes, kicking and wriggling her feet until they’re once again poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“Be safe,” she says when he reaches the bedroom door.  

An old habit, he supposes, used to saying it every time he left for a job in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. And it hurts his heart; that she’d become so accustomed to him leaving that those words are now second nature.

****

Ovi saunters up onto the back patio at quarter to six; hair still messy from sleep, eyes heavy. He’s grown considerably since the move, packing on the weight and the muscle: less stress, more eating right and a consistent work out schedule, and hard, manual labour. It isn’t a full time job by any stretch of the imagination, but their clients pay well and Tyler pays even better. Ovi and Chloe can live comfortably, pay all their bills, and never worry about finding themselves in financial trouble.

It’s become their routine. Sitting out back, drinking coffee and eating breakfast before setting out on the road. This morning neither of them offer a verbal greeting, instead exchanging smiles and nods before Ovi drops into the chair across from him. Both staying silent as they watch the sunrise, the rippling ocean painted in a brilliant, breathtaking golden hue.

Tyler doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the sunrises and sunsets, the smell of the salt that hangs in the air, the breeze that rolls in off the water. The mountains had been beautiful; it had been one hell of a view from the back deck at their place in Telluride. But nothing compares to this. Maybe he’s biased; he’d spent almost thirty-six years in Australia. It’s home. He’s admittedly much happier here, far more relaxed. The privacy and the seclusion not enough to solve all of his problems, but helping the healing process tremendously. He feels grounded. Secure. As if he’s finally able to put down real roots. Able to raise a family somewhere that feels totally safe.  

Ovi watches the final moments of the sunrise with the rim of his coffee mug pressed against his lips. There’s pure wonder in his eyes; as if it’s the first time he’s witnessed the scene playing out in front of him. Wide eyed and amazed, like a child on Christmas morning that’s rushed downstairs to find the living room covered in presents and treats.  

It reminds Tyler of the first time the kid had ever seen snow. He’d glanced up from the dinner table and had given a loud gasp, eyes impossibly wide, and dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter as he sprung up from the table and out the sliding door. For a half an hour he’d stayed out there on the deck; clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Tears streaming down his face, unable to even form a proper sentence as he let the soft, white flakes fall onto his upturned palms, laughing when they got stuck in his lashes and his hair. Millie joining him and teaching him to catch the them on his tongue.  

After that he became fascinated with anything to do with winter. Throwing himself into helping the kids make snow angels and snow men, even building forts and having snowball fights. He and Tyler would go ice fishing on the weekends, their main bonding time. And he loved Christmas. Not necessarily getting gifts, but giving them. Enjoying the decorating of the tree and putting lights up on the house, and all the delicious food that he’d never been able to experience in India. He was a child again; filled with wonder and excitement, able to forget all about what happened in Dhaka and the trauma he still struggled with.

“That was an awesome one,” Ovi breathes, shaking his head in disbelief before turning to the plate of food in front of him. Nothing extravagant; some scrambled eggs, toast and a selection of various fresh fruit.  

Tyler nods in agreement, pushing food around his plate with his fork. The meds fuck with his stomach first thing in the morning; often not able to actually eat a meal but resorting to smoothies and supplements to get the calories into him. He likes the weight he’s at now; a little extra around the middle, but larger through the chest and shoulders, biceps and forearms bigger, as well as his thighs. He feels healthier than he has in years, maybe even since before Dhaka. He’d been running on nothing but booze and pain meds back then. And a death wish. Now he concentrates on what he’s putting into his body and how hard he works it.

Addie stirs in the car seat carrier that sits on the ground beside his chair; the soother tumbling out of her mouth, prompting that tiny whine that comes shortly before an epic meltdown. Two weeks old and she has a temper already; small and feisty, just like her mom. When putting the soother back in doesn’t work, he picks her up; laying her across his forearm, stomach down, her face rubbing against his skin as she settles into him.  

“I don’t know how you do it,” Ovi comments. “Make it look so easy.”

“It’s far from easy, mate. Trust me. Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You don’t make it seem that way, though. You make it seem like you’ve been doing it forever. It’s only been six years.”

“I just learn as I go along. Pray I don’t screw it up. Or screw them up.”

“I think you’re doing a good job. A great job, actually. It’s still funny seeing you like this though. As daddy Tyler and not Tyler, Tyler. Do you ever miss it? Miss him?”

“Not often. But yeah, sometimes I do.”

He feels guilty for even saying it; as if he’s somehow disrespecting his wife and his kids. But he’d been Ovi’s age when he had joined the army and began building and honing his skills; the ones that he’d taken with him into the job. He'd spent years on the move; being deployed while in the military and then bouncing from job to job, never settling down, never having to worry or think about anything other than his work. Now everything had ended abruptly and with it came a much slower pace, consistency and routine, more responsibility. Not just for himself. But with six people that depend on him.

“Do you ever want to go back?” Ovi asks.

“Once or twice I’ve thought about it. But I’d never actually do it. I don’t have it in me anymore. Not mentally. I need to work on myself. Not worry about helping other people. And I kind of love my wife and the life we have together, and I want my marriage to work, so...” he sips his coffee. “I’d never do it. I lose everything. And no job is worth that.”

“So if something came up, you’d just say no?”

“Unless it’s a threat to my wife or my kids or you. Nothing will make me go back. What’s going on? Why are you asking me about all of this?”

“No reason,” Ovi shrugs.  “Just curious.”

“You’re a shitty liar. You always have been. Who’ve you been talking to? Nik? Yaz?”

“No one!” he insists. “I’ve just been thinking about things.”

“What kind of things?”  

“Things that I can do with my life. On top of what I do now. I thought maybe if you ever got back into it, I could too.”

“That’s never fucking happening,” Tyler scowls, and Addie begins to fuss again. Maybe even hearing the change in his tone of voice or feeling the tension that takes root in his body.  And he lifts her to his chest, a hand on the back of her head, fingertips gently rubbing in her dark hair. “Not for me.  Not for you.”

“We could build our own business,” Ovi suggests. “We could get the word out, take on clients.”

“I said no. We’re not doing that. We’re not even going to talk about it. Get that shit out of your head. All it’s going to lead you to is a really fucking dark place. Trust me.”

“The money is good! You used to say that all the time.”

“No amount of money is worth not coming home to my family. You’re the last person that should want to get into this. After everything you went through...everything you saw...why the fuck would you want to get involved in that crap?”

“It was exciting. When you had me take the kids. Being on the run like that. Being responsible for the lives of others. I finally got over being scared of everyone and everything. I want to help people. Just like you helped me.”

“I didn’t help you, mate. I fucked everything up. I fucked you up.”

“It wasn’t your fault that things went bad,” Ovi argues.  “It was my father’s fault. Not yours. You got me out of there alive. Even when you knew there was no money. And you almost died doing it.”

“And I don’t want you almost dying...or dying...trying to solve other peoples’ problems. We can’t save everyone. No matter how much we want to.”

“I just want to give back all the good I’ve been given.”

“Find something else to do then. Feed the homeless. Work at an animal shelter. Volunteer somewhere. Do anything that would make you feel good. But fuck the job. Don’t even think about it. You want to mess things up with Chloe? Because that’s how you’ll mess things up with her.”

“It didn’t mess things up with you and Esme.”

“Like hell it didn’t. We split up for six months. You know how close it came to her filing for divorce? You know how close I came to barely seeing my kids? It was a goddamn miracle she took me back. And I still kept doing the job and I still kept making promises I never kept and I still keep abandoning her and my kids. You don’t think that hasn’t caused problems? That I don’t pay for my shitty decisions every day? We see a marriage counsellor, for fuck sakes.”

“Chloe said she’s fine with it. That if that’s what I want to do...”

“You actually talked to her about this? About becoming a mercenary. Are you fucking serious right now? Why the hell would you do that?”

“She’s part of my life.  I can’t make a decision like that without talking to her about it.”

Tyler frowns. “You’ve actually been thinking about this? For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Ovi shrugs. “Couple months, I guess.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just bringing this up to me now?”

Addie begins to cry in earnest now; startled by him raising his voice.  And he pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, a palm against the back of her head, the other patting her back as he sways his body back and forth in an effort to calm her.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers harshly to Ovi. “Why would you even think about doing the job?”

“The excitement. The danger. The...”

“The danger is exactly why you shouldn’t want to do it. You saw what happened in Dhaka. You were right there the entire time. Why would you want to put yourself through that? And never mind that, why would you want to put Chloe through that?”

“You and Esme...”

“Don’t even bring Esme into this. I’ve screwed up. A lot. I’ve made a lot of mistakes that could have ended my marriage. We have to see a goddamn therapist to try and fix things. Is that you want? You want to screw up someone else’s life? Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing.”

“But if she’s okay with it...”

Ovi is interrupted by the sliding glass door opening; Esme holding it so Declan...in just a diaper and a t-shirt and his hair sticking up in all different directions...can toddle through.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” she gives a tired, sheepish smile. “But someone woke up wanting daddy.”

Little arms wrap around his leg and Declan rubs his forehead against Tyler’s jeans before looking up at him with a huge pout on his face and those blue eyes rimmed with red and filled with tears.  

“What’s a matter mate?” Tyler asked. “What did the mean lady do to you?”

“He was pissed because I had to change his diaper before I would bring him down here to see you. If one of them could not have your temper that would be great,” Esme helps herself to a sip of his smoothie. “Is she okay? Want me to take her? Just so this one...” she lays a hand on Declan’s head. “...doesn’t pitch a fit because he’s jealous?”

“She was just a little unsettled,” he says, handing his daughter off and then scooping Declan up onto his hip. Running a hand over his strawberry blond hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks; letting him grab at his ears and his beard and anything else he can get those little hands on before sitting down and settling him on his lap and helping Declan feed himself the leftover food on his plate.

“Oh typical,” Esme grumbles, and sits down beside Ovi,  settling Addie against her chest and laying the side of her head against her daughter’s.  “He knows daddy will give him ‘big people’ food. And you wonder why he’s going to be six six and two hundred and fifty pounds when he’s sixteen.”

“Don’t listen to the mean lady,” Tyler says to his son. “You’re going grow up and be big and strong and kick some major ass.”

“Ass,’ Declan repeats, and shoves scrambled egg into his mouth.

“Oh, way to go Tyler,” his wife sighs. “You couldn’t leave one all innocent and sweet. Don’t you dare think you’re going to be teaching my last one any of your potty words.”

He grins. “She’s going to be the worst one of them all. It’s always the small ones you’ve have to worry about.”

“Your dad talks a lot of nonsense,” Esme says to the baby, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a bad influence. He already has your sister beating up kids on the playground and using the F word.”

“She’s got a hell of a right hook,” Tyler says, and Ovi nods in agreement. “She messes up her brothers.”

“We don��t want people messing anyone up this house.  Don’t pay attention, Addie. You’re going to grow up sweet and kind and never hurt a fly.”

Tyler snorts. “Not if she’s your daughter she won’t.”

“Can you believe I put up with him? That I willingly do this every day? Listen to that mouth?”

“It’s the other things that I do with my mouth you like,” Tyler says, and shoots her a wink across the table.

Ovi nearly spits out a mouthful of coffee.

“Oh god...innocent ears...”  she places a hand over one of Addie’s ears, and then a hand over one of Ovi’s.  

“Yeah, he’s not so innocent. He’s probably getting it more than I am.”

Ovi bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head in embarrassment.

“You’re not used to this yet?” Esme laughs. “You know what he’s like. You’ve lived with him for five years now. You know the crap he talks about. Only the strong survive in this house.”

Ovi wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans and holds his hands out in a request to hold the baby. He’s always been a natural; taking on the role of a big brother the moment he’d first laid eyes on Millie when they’d travelled to Mumbai and stayed at the Mahajan house. Lending a helping hand in taking care of the kids whenever Tyler was out of the country on a job, never shying away from dirty diapers or spit up.  He is a calming presence. Never raising his voice or showing any signs of nervousness of anger. And Addie snuggles right into him, one of her hands gripping his shirt, her head against his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he smiles. “Babies are nice.”

“Remember that they’re always nicer when their someone else’s,” Esme says. “So you don’t end up with one of your own way before you’re ready for it. Because they’re sweet and they’re cute but they’re a lot of work.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“So no kids, okay?” Esme tousles Ovi’s hair. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma. Give it a few years. At least. Okay?”

He nods in agreement.

“So what were you guys talking about? Things looked kind of intense when I came in.”

“Just stuff,” Ovi shrugs. “Nothing important, really.”

“For something that wasn’t important, you two looked like you were going to get into it about something. Everything alright?”

Both Ovi and Tyler nod.

Her eyes narrow. “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“It was no big deal,” Tyler gives her a reassuring smile. “Just normal talk. Guy talk. Nothing serious.”

“Well I’ll let you guys get back to your guy stuff,” she says, ruffling Ovi’s hair once more before standing up. “I’ve got school lunches to make and bags to pack. Ughhhh. Is it the weekend yet?”  She places her hands on Tyler’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading inside.

“Whew...” Ovi breathes a sigh of relief. “...that was close. I thought she’d hear for sure.”

“Don’t ever bring the job up again,” Tyler’s voice is calm and even, his attention fully on the toddler in his lap. “I don’t ever want to hear it come out of your mouth. That’s not something you want to get involved in. And it’s not something I’m letting you drag me back into.”

“I wasn’t saying I was going to do it,” Ovi attempts to reason. “Just that I thought about it.”

“Well don’t think about. You’re too good for that. Way too good for it. Go back to school if you want. I’ll pay for it. I’ll support you no matter what you do. But not if you do that. You go into the job, I can’t have your back. I just can’t.  I can’t just sit on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself. Understand?”

Ovi nods.

“You deserve so much better than that life. So does Chloe. And I wish every day I never got back into it. That I’d just walked away for good. It would have saved me a whole lot of hurt.  It wasn’t fair to Esme. Or my kids. And that’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Trust me, kid. You do not want that guilt on your shoulders.”

It will always be there. He knows it will.  He’ll spend his entire life looking for absolution that will never come.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 18

<= Chapter 17

Summary : Snatcher has a lot of things to say. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/58252951

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CHAPTER 18 IS HERE !!! I hope you’ll like it ! ALSO : I commissionned Puyo-Proto to voice a bit of Snatcher in this scene !!! The result is amazing, I’m so happy with it, thank you again !! You’re so talented ! YOU CAN LISTEN TO IT HERE !! OF COURSE, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER, so I advise you to read said chapter first! Check out his amazing voice acting ! Here’s his twitter !

HAPPY READING !

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Chapter 18

Snatcher had thought that he had experienced pain in the most unenjoyable ways… But, oh, he had been so wrong. The ghost’s consciousness started to emerge again, slowly waking up to awful pains in all parts of his body. But what hurt the most was his head: the shade could feel every heartbeat resonating inside of his skull, as if someone was hammering the walls around his brain. He just wanted the sensation to go away. He was so tired, so nauseous, everything was so painful!

The spirit barely realized he had let out a whimper as his mind was way too foggy to care. All he wanted was to ignore the growing pain in his body and go back to sleep, where everything was so much more peaceful…

-“Snatcher?” said a soft and sad little voice on his right. The shade felt his consciousness be stimulated by the cry for help next to him. What was happening? The question appeared in the ghost’s mind as he couldn’t help but have a very bad feeling. Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he think clearly? Why did he feel himself be stuck against something, while his lower body dangled in the air? Why couldn’t he move his hands?

And why did this all feel so extremely familiar?

The sudden realization hit him hard, pure horror engulfing him. He knew exactly what was happening, he remembered everything his body was currently experiencing. He had gone through that kind of suffering in the past when-

He opened his eyes, panicked. He felt his heart sinking in his chest as he immediately recognized the room he was in: damp walls made of stones, a cobblestone floor, several casks scattered around the place, huge kegs, humid and cold air… Snatcher was in the cellar again. His hands just like his torso were shackled to the wall, exactly like hundreds of years ago.

His breathing got caught in his throat from the shock. No, he couldn’t be there again, he couldn’t go through this torture again! Once was already more than enough! Why was he here again?!

-“Snatcher! Snap out of it!”

His attention got back to the small child next to him. She was shackled to the wall just like he was. It is only then that he noticed he had been hyperventilating. His ears were ringing from the panic and his mouth was dry. The little girl had tears marks on her cheeks and her eyes were red from all the crying she must have done while he was still unconscious. She didn’t have her hat on and the accessory was nowhere in sight. She didn’t seem to be injured, which was a relief to the spirit. He tried his best to calm himself down, still very much scared and confused by his current situation.

-“What… Why are we…” he tried to ask, yet couldn’t say the words, for some unknown reason. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was all the trauma coming back to him after all those years… Or maybe his throat was too dry to make any sound. In any case, he wasn’t able to finish this sentence and hoped the brat would understand what he had meant: “what happened? Why are we here?”

Given the context, his ex-contractor had no problem to decipher what he had tried to say. She attempted to move, but the chains on her wrists prevented her to move too much. She winced in the process, certainly from the pain it caused. And oh, Snatcher knew very well how painful it could be.

-“We… We got caught,” explained the child with a weak voice: “I was going to blow up the padlock with my hat, but… The butler knocked you out…”

The memories were now coming back to the ghost like vivid visions in his mind. He could remember the sudden pain on the back of his head, the cries coming from the little girl… She had begged him to help her, to stand up and fight… But he had lost consciousness.

And now they were in the cellar. The last place he wanted to see or be in again.

Snatcher pulled on the chains, yet it was all in vain: as a mere human, he wouldn’t be able to get free. He knew that. However, he kept trying, feeling a mix of fear and anger powering his attempts. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t, not again, not a second time… And even less with the kid next to him, in the same situation as him. He would definitely not allow it. The very idea of having her going through that hell just made him livid: never, he would never allow it! If she had to suffer, it was going to be through him and no one else!

And so, the ghost screamed. No matter how much the little girl jumped beside him, no matter how much his throat ached, and no matter how much time it would take… He was going to get out and kill Vanessa and her accomplice, once and for all. He hadn’t finished the job the first time and it had been one of his biggest mistakes… A mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Even if he had to die in the process.

Rage had engulfed him whole as he tried to pull on the chains, again and again and again… The sound of the chains resonated in the room just like his pants from his effort. But he was far, far from being over! If he had to break his own wrists to get out of these chains, he would! This wouldn't be the first time anyway!

-“Snatcher! Snatcher stop!” begged the hatless brat. Though, the spirit wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to listen.

He was going to get out, he was going to get out, he was going to get out! His screams were deafening and became feral-like the more he screamed. He could hear the child trying to calm him down next to him, but the shade didn’t care. He didn’t have to care in his situation! How could anyone expect him to stay calm when he had to relive his worst nightmare?

And then, all of a sudden, the air around them became awfully chilly. The spirit stopped abruptly, confusion replacing his anger for just a moment.

“Why…?” Though, his bewilderment didn’t last long as he quickly put the missing piece of the puzzle. It was her, it could only be her. The sound of muffled steps behind the door of the cellar only confirmed his suspicions. Vanessa was there. Whether she had come because of his screams or just because she wanted to bathe in his hatred for her and his rage… It didn’t change the fact that she was behind the door. Even as a simple human, the spirit could still sense her presence behind the wooden surface. As for the little girl, she seemed to have come to the same conclusion as him. She was standing deadly still, probably terrified, if the look on her face was any indication. The shade had been scared too, the first time. However, now, pure fury radiated from him. He hated her, loathed her!

How could she come after shackling them up on a wall again? How could she?

The ghost’s rage intensified even more as he clenched his teeth. Why? Why would she do that again? When she had explicitly said to him that she wanted to make things right this time? Then again, she had also said that everything had been his fault from the start…

He started yelling again, even more furious than before:

-“How dare you!” the words left his mouth as he pulled on his restraints once again: “All this talk about how mature you said you were compared to me! How better you wanted everything to be!”

The ghost could feel his throat hurt from how dry it was. How long had he stayed unconscious? How long had it been since the last time he drank water? The anger quickly made him forget those thoughts as he continued screaming:

-“Well newsflash, Vanessa! You screwed everything up! You’ll never be the mature person! You’re just a heartless monster!” he paused, and then scoffed almost for himself, though he knew very well she could hear him: “And I was the liar? Me? You were the liar all along!”

His body radiated heat the more he yelled, but the ghost purposely ignored it. It wasn’t important. Even though he could feel his body changing from the inside, he was just blinded by the fury and the resentment he had towards the Queen. Nothing else was important. Not even the cries on his right as he opened his mouth again:

-“And you know what’s fun?” he asked with a mix of bitterness and sarcasm: “You never took a good look at yourself! You destroyed an entire village, killed all its inhabitants, murdered your dear fiance, and somehow it was my fault? You’re so full of yourself it’s hilarious!”

The spirit laughed, but it sounded terribly maniacal and insincere. His skin had changed colour, now purple like his ghostly form, yet his body remained tangible just like his human form. His face radiated a yellowish light and his mouth had changed, showing fangs instead of normal teeth.

Snatcher was livid and his body was reacting in consequence.

-“And you actually thought I would love you again? Forget everything that you did just because you created a perfect little alternate reality?” The spirit laughed again, yet his laughter ended with a sad tone. A minute passed in silence, but he knew she was still there.

-“You never cared about me,” affirmed Snatcher bitterly: “All you cared about was the idea of living the perfect princess life, falling in love, just like in a fairytale. But you were the villain all along, you were the unstable witch becoming crazy when something didn’t go your way!”

Snatcher stopped again, shutting his eyes hard and clenching his fists as he questioned in a desperate, loud voice:

-“Why are you still here?!” He demanded as his words resonated in the cellar, echoing all around him and the kid: “Go away! If you want us to die here so much, then get lost!”

He took a deep breath and screamed as much as he could, all his rage and fury fuelling his last words:

-“I hate you, Vanessa! I loathe you! Get lost!”

Snatcher thought it would be enough. Snatcher really thought she would leave them alone to die, just like she intended… But instead, he still felt her presence behind the door, as the air cooled down again. She wasn’t leaving. And then, after a few seconds, the door opened and a silhouette entered the room, holding something tight against her chest.

It was Vanessa, wearing her light green nightshirt. Her face was full of sadness and guilt, and she couldn’t bear looking at the ghost in the eyes.

And, in her hands, was the brat’s magical hat.

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Gosh I LOVE writing cliffhangers :) ALSO DON’T FORGET TO LISTEN TO PUYO-PROTO’S VOICE ACTING, IT’S AMAZING AAAAH

See you on the next chapter ! :D

Chapter 19 =>

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 22: Hallucination

(We have a message for you.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 22: Hallucination

Word Count: 1787

Relationships: Loceit (minor relationship? kinda)

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness, mild mention of trauma effects, cursing

A/N: okay,,,, ngl i have no idea where this came from. this idea is so dumb and not even really whumpy but i did it anyway lmfao. hey, at least it gave me an excuse to describe the characters in some of my timelines! anyway yeah i love these character designs, no matter how silly/unrealistic they are. they are my babies and i will take them to my grave

“Thomas, can we talk?” his best friend’s voice comes from beside him, speaking up in the silence after the two of them had finished watching a movie. It was comfortable, quiet, just a lazy day today, so they’d come over to hang out and forget about the stress of video-making. Thomas looks up with a cocked eyebrow, asking a question with his eyes as Joan sighs. 

“You… maybe you should see someone,” Joan says, their voice low and concerned, and Thomas doesn’t get it. See who? Like, a doctor? He isn’t sick. So he tells them so, asks what they mean, and they duck their head contemplatively. “You need to see a psychiatrist, or psychologist, or something. I know the videos are fun, and we have these awesome characters. I get it. But you… you think it’s real. You think the sides are real. That’s-- That’s not healthy, Thomas.”

Thomas just laughs, doesn’t even look up as he scrolls through his feed. His phone case is beaten up where it rests in his hand, and Joan shakes their head worriedly. ”Thomas, I’m serious.”

This causes Thomas’ expression to drop immediately, and he turns to them awkwardly. “Wait, you’re serious?” Thomas asks, confusion welling up easily in his head. What are they talking about?

“Yes, I’m serious! You stand here and talk to nothing for hours on end! You think they’re real, and they’re not! You need help, Thomas, please,” Joan begs, rearing back to sit taller in an unconscious show of authority. They don’t want to be mean about this, they really don’t, but if Thomas is in denial about the sides’ existence (or lack thereof), they can’t be sugarcoating everything. They need to be straightforward, because they care about their friend, and to see him hurt would be awful.

“Joan, they are real. You just haven’t been here in person to see them yet,” Thomas says gently, acting as if Joan’s the one who’s being irrational here, and Joan doesn’t think it’s an overreaction when they groan loudly. If Thomas believes that the sides are real and are defending their existence this fervently, then there might be something really wrong with his head, and the worry in Joan’s demeanour is insurmountable.

“Thomas, stop! They aren’t real! They’re in your head. They are in your head. They’re just characters that we made up for a YouTube series, nothing more,” Joan stresses, tries to break through that glass wall of denial that Thomas’ mind has built around itself. From what they know through random Tumblr awareness posts and late-night research, this sounds like a defense mechanism, something Thomas himself isn’t even aware of. But… aren’t brains only supposed to do that after severe trauma? Did something happen to him that Joan doesn’t know about?

“Hey, there’s no need to get upset. I understand, you haven’t seen them yet, and don’t realize that they aren’t just characters. Do you want me to show you?” Thomas asks gently, places his hands up but low in a placating gesture in an attempt to calm them down. Joan isn’t angry, and they wouldn’t lash out or anything, but they are troubled with the thought that there may well be something going on in Thomas’ head that they won’t be able to fix.

“Thomas… please, just. Please stop… don’t do this to yourself, okay?” Joan pleads with him, desperation simmering just beneath the surface ready to boil and spill over at a moment’s notice. The slightest nudge of the heat could send the water hissing to the ground, send tears from their eyes and shouts from their lungs, and they don’t want to accidentally say something they’ll regret. They aren’t angry with Thomas, but they are frustrated, and seeing their friend in this state is taxing in itself.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll show you, ready? Please don’t scream, alright? It’s scary the first time, but once you understand, it’s fine!” Thomas exclaims, happy and careless and he isn’t even listening to them. Fuck, does he need to be, like… forcibly taken to a hospital? This isn’t okay, he’s not okay, and they don’t know what to do anymore.

“Hmm… Logan, Ethan? I need you!”

For a moment, nothing happens, just as Joan expects. Thomas stands there, smile never wavering a single bit, and Joan sighs as they reach up to lay a hand on his shoulder. But before they can, before their eyes, a mist seems to envelope the floor. It’s not a moisture, but more like a haze, where light is distorted and twirling in on itself as if caught in fractals and thrown away from itself. It hurts Joan’s eyes to look at, so he doesn’t, and two people jump up out of the disturbance despite all logic and reason.

“Wha-- What the fuck? Is this a joke? Please tell me this is a practical joke, Thomas, and you just suddenly got really good at doing magic tricks. What the fuck?!” Joan forces out helplessly, bewildered and urgent. They’re…. they’re here. This has to be a trick. It has to be, but it… they look exactly like Thomas. These aren’t some random actors who just happen to share a resemblance with their friend, they could be clones, identical copies without a single mistake in sight.

And.. well, to Thomas’ credit, they do look similar to the characters they have created together. The one that’s clearly Logic has straighter black hair with blue streaks rather than brown, and his irises are a striking silver leading into an electric blue closer to the pupil, but otherwise he looks mostly the same. The only other big physical difference is his body type, which while slim and long and appearing to be tall in an odd sort of optical illusion, he’s actually quite a bit shorter than Thomas is. He’s wearing a soft-looking dark blue sweater, black leggings, and some fuzzy socks as opposed to the character’s typical outfit, but there’s no mistaking him. This is Logan… the real Logan?

The other one (obviously Deceit) is also similar enough, with hair that is a rich, warm chestnut brown, but there also seem to be literal strands of gold braided and looping through the very lightly curled locks. It’s almost mesmerizing, although not as much so as his eyes, which are just as heterochromatic as their beloved character. The right one is the same shade of light grey as Logan’s are, and the left one is a reptilian eye. Not the fake snake eye contact that they’d managed to find online, but a realistic one, a deeper gold and a darker black with depth and texture. He’s short too, somehow even shorter than Logan is, but he’s still quite intimidating despite that. His half-serpentine smirk is soft but empowering, and somehow cancels out a lot of the cuteness of his unexpected outfit. Rather than his signature bowler hat and cape, he wears a black beanie and a huge, thick black hoodie. Sweatpants long enough to cover his feet are draped over his legs, just as comfortable an outfit as Logan’s and Joan realizes that it’s late and they might have been about to sleep. Wait, do sides sleep?

But more than anything, they both have one feature that really stands out, a feature that makes Joan really believe that they might actually be real, that this isn’t just some elaborate prank. For Deceit, it’s the scales. It’s not makeup, not flat colour; they’re real snake scales, a shimmering, pearlescent emerald colour that refracts the light like diamonds. They’re beautiful, they really are, and Joan is almost sad that they haven’t done Character Deceit the justice he deserves, now that they’re faced with Real Deceit.

For Logan, it’s his eyes. Yes, the colour really is pretty if abnormal, the clear silver like liquid metal seeping and blurring into bright sapphire in a ring around his pupils. But that’s not the only thing, because Logan has what looks to be technology in his eyes, power buttons surrounded by slowly spinning lines radiating from the center almost like a circuit-board. They seem like they’re being projected slightly past his actual eyes, like he has a bright blue hologram playing in his vision. It’s… certainly in the realm of science fiction, so it really is aptly fitting, despite how Joan’s brain refuses to accept that this is actually real.

“Wait, you said his name is Ethan? Deceit’s name is Ethan? That’s not what we decided on…” Joan says, and it’s honestly all they can say through their confusion. This is too difficult to process, too perplexing to understand right away, and Joan seriously needs to sit down before they pass out in the middle of the floor. Thomas huffs a laugh as they plop down on the couch, hand rubbing hard at their face to try and clear their head, and he just sits on the edge of the couch beside them.

“Joan, this is Logan and Ethan. Logic and Deceit. They’re real, and they obviously look… differently to how we designed them, but they… this is them. You can take all the time you need; I certainly had to,” Thomas chuckles, gaze distant for a moment as if in the midst of reliving a faraway memory, and Joan just groans and drops their head into cold, waiting palms. 

“Thomas, you know to refrain from calling us here when it’s after one. We’re busy at night, you know that,” Logan speaks up from where the two of them are still standing in the middle of the room. Deceit-- Well, Ethan just shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide his knowing simpering. What the hell is going on? “Hello, Joan.”

“Yeah, sorry, guys. Just wanted to introduce you to Joan, finally. You can go now,” Thomas reassures them, waves goodbye and smiles when they return the sentiment (including Joan, too, which is simultaneously a thoughtful show of kinesics and mildly terrifying), and then they’re sinking back through the odd fog on the floor that has stayed there the whole time the sides have been standing here. It goes with them, leaving the normal appearance of the carpet to be on display, and this all feels like too much to deal with right now. Joan just wants to go to bed, if they’re being honest.

“Wait… are those two dating?” Joan asks incredulously, a previous comment stuck out in their mind just waiting for the loose thread to be pulled, and Thomas glances over at them. He just laughs silently with sly eyes, body shaking with unvocalized laughter, and Joan picks up the pillow next to them and yells into the fabric.

[raguna-blade]

Revolutionary Girl Utena Live(ish) Reaction Episodes 8-11

So it's a new year, and I'm gonna continue this, cause its' fun. Had a brief break cause of the holidays. And doing so, I figure i'm gonna do a thing where I make up a nice cleaned up version of these cause if nothing else I like organizing my thoughts. So Control F or whatever your find function is for the cleaned up version if that's your thing. It'll be under Overall Thoughts per ep. Or you know, you're me and you're going back through this for validation for whatever nonsense you say later.

Episode 8

Curry huh? And another recap? uh....

enmy remains trifling

hey wait egg time already?

Danger? Really?

Body swap? Also egg time is goofs

throwin hands????? anthy?

Yeah nanami it is ridiculous

JERSUS TOGA

nanami you idiot

She just fucked off to india to get some weird back alley spice

Shadow girls can you please, just please for a single episode.

ANTHY YOU LYING. Never been good at sports and you did that leap apparently pretty well? What the fuck.

Also, the switching thing here is mad suspect considering the end theme thing (and I suppose the opening.

Utena as Anthy : I don't want to be a sacrifice of the rose seal.

Anthy As Utena: I'm super down staying like this actually.

Like..This is just details that

Uh..Uh saionji what. The implications are strong here. Also, Douche canoe he is, but he's a romantic apparently? UUUUH. Exchange diary.

Is the “A” plot a distraction? Like for real.

Also she took that elephant to the dome.

I'm not sure how to take this personality switch. Like the minds thing whatever, but if it's just the personalties but not the person so to speak,  hold on

WHAT THE FUCK. These elephants for fucking real?

Anyway, if they're just personalities altering the “person” it's uh...Interesting. I'm not sure how to take that til I get more info. It seems like a thing.

Also, Saionji apparently legit has feels for Anthy he's just...mad dumb about expressing it? Like he's pulling a lot of Badboy Romance Tropes here but...not...in a badboy romance. Which kills his behavior entirely.

Killed his Soul AGAIN. Damn.

Who's the divine justice for? Like it doesn't seem for nanami. Who fucked up. Presumably between anthy and utena.

Anthy what the actual fuck are you doing. Are you using gunpowder?

Homie, this isn't twilight, go home saionji.

Anthy as Utena(????) you trolling. So hard.

Saionji get's zero respect but dudes dedicated I'll give him that. Fitting for bad boy romance lead.

Uh...Wait, actually, are they all romance leads? Common ones in one way or the other. They are on the student Council so...Hm. I don't read enough romance stories of the variety I think but it seems to fit? I'm not sure what juri would be in that case.

Anyway, if this Episode Turns out to be a key for understanding things I'm gonna be pissed. Just a little.

Overall Thoughts: So this and the other “filler” episode is, especially after finishing my last ep in the session, read as anything but despite the obvious uh...antics on display. Like...

Ok, so the whole thing with the ending which frames Anthy and Utena as kinda the same (or rather exactly the same, except one's in red and the other pink) makes this whole episode feel like it's basically some kind of key for understanding everything else because it's simple times. It's goofy hilarity with Nanami that's the A Plot right hahahah....

Except the personality swap between the two of them is like...The implication here is that they swapped minds fully, and given the level of fairy tale bullshit that is at play constantly in this series so far it may well just be magic brand magic and we're supposed to roll with it. Ok. Fair.

Except...The thought that sits in my head is again, Anthy and Utena seem to equal each other. Hell I point it out slightly later that there's definitely this yin yang thing going on in the opening with the two which is so blatant as to be meaningless because Hah Yeah these are our two leads obvs and they're important to each other so hahah don't worry about or think about it check out these SWEET SWORDSMANSHIP MOMENTS FROM EVERYONE LOOK AT THE BUDGET AND COOL HORSES AND CASTLES HAHAHA.

But ok, if it's a Yin Yang thing, yes they're not the same but they have elements of each other within eachother. So if it's just a personality swap but not an actual soul swap thing, that is, Anthy is just acting like Utena's personality is in her, and Utena is just acting like Anthy's personality is in her it paints this picture of Utena and Anthy as having a lot going on under the surface. I mean obviously Anthy is fucking pissed at Saionji. That was really really evident in episode one because if she's just being submissive rosebride I do what i'm told and I do what i'm told I do what i'm told, the very very very sharp dig of “We're Just classmates” is fucking brutal unnecessity. And given that she DOES know what he feels for her, and he's still acting like that, her being vindictive(or just brusque really, he's being an ass full bore) is like...absolutely reasonable.

Her Slapping back and about to throw hands with her tormentors? Who wouldn't want to right?

But then, ok that's Anthy, but what about Utena. If it's just a mind swap, Utena...want's a very defined existence? Like, she wants to just stick to a role? Feels weird, and doesn't quite immediately jive with her cause that seems against her operations right? Except, as this episode so kindly reminds us (for at least the third time in 8 episodes which seems excessive. I might be forgetting one or two) Utena's whole thing coming to this school is I want to play the Role of the Prince, whatever that actually means. Playing the Rose Bride would be no real difference, except it's way more submissive.

So that aside, Saionji saying he's in love with Anthy (and that seems to be something he at least believes to be true. He honestly seems more into Toga. Like for real for real, all the imagery of those flashbacks reads not just as close buddies, but as I am romantically down with you Toga my guy. Him being Bi is probably the easiest answer, and he just drifted away from Toga for a while. Saionji clearly sees him as a friend and rival, although it's seemingly not reciprocated at the moment.

But the thing, the thing that's kinda weird to me, is that if he does legit have feelings for her, I was struck with this odd vibe that he's playing at being a romance lead. Specifically, a Bad Boy romance lead. And doing so SPECTACULARLY badly. Homeboy is sitting here busting out poetry (unless my brain is being a dumb and i'm somehow overlaying him with Tatewaki Kuno from Ranma which ok, weird but alright) but...

Ok, if he is playing at being a Badboy Romance lead, that actually explains his behavior for how he was treating Anthy, especially if he's legit in his feelings for her? Possessive, Radiates Danger, Engages in Creepy Behavior, is a bit of a dick, etc. It lines up with Being a Bad Boy, except that the way that those usually work out in fiction, as I understand it, they're not usually like...gonna hit you. That breaks the fantasy. But...That's him fucking up the archetype. It doesn't fit for him. He doesn't understand what he's doing in that archetype.

Like yes, abusers and the like can care and still be absuers cause fucked up behavior and motivations don't need to match in the least, but it still feels odd that a man who probably literally could have done any number of fucked up things has...an exchange diary with the girl he says he cares about? And it's not like he's unaware of how submissive/passive she is, his exchange diary actually kinda reads like Utena's Anthy is A Real Girl! Activities*. He wants her to be active part of whatever their relationship is and...Eh.

But ok, if he's that, It suggests the rest of the student council, and duelists in general, would fit into a given archetype right? Toga is clearly the super cool intelligent superman student council president, Juri is basically charisma max Jock, Miki is the cute nerd, Nanami is the Ojou villainess type, Utena is...Basically the Hero type, just morals, strains to upset the status quo, Has the Cool Original Uniform.

And they all kinda fit into those pretty thoroughly, kinda like they're trying to (to varying levels of awareness)

Anyway, I'll hit on some of the other stuff in the next Ep. It's a bit more relevant there I think.

*See Me In Episode 11

Episode 9

I just realized they're doing some kinda yinyang thing in the opening so

R V G FIGHT.

Pretty tense there. Toga went straight for the heart which i'm sure means nothing.

Old Friends? Phrasing seems uh...odd? Unsure if it's dub things or actual subtext. Or both.

Dude you really got beef with a monkey? No, utena.

Being a huge dick. As is tradition.

10 Years.

Saionji: Actually love her (said) but

This is mad gay. Like the lighting, the silhouette. Saionji you're sublimating something here.

Music, Silhouettes.

...Silhouettes show truth? uh.

They were Utena's folks funeral? Huh. Also, why on earth would Utena be kidnapped? Who she be?

….Three coffins. Uh. Uhhhhhh. Utena, Toga, Saionji? UuuuHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Dead utena. Uh.

Toga: Ally to all women. Ok.

...Why is there a third coffin?

Something Eternal huh? And Utena wants to die for reasons understandable.

Find another coffin. Rose Sigils on the coffins. Uh. Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Saionji: Hey, this is nuts, we should stop her.

Toga: Nah, I'm gonna Ennable the shit out of this.

Tiny Utena with the White Rose?

Saionji: Did he do something to her?

Toga: Nope

Uh....

Anthy: Something Eternal in the castle. I want to go there.

Also impressive grip strength considering. Flat.

Does Toga Remember this or...? I can't be sure. Saionji certainly didn't recognize her, but he wasn't like right on top of the trauma child.

Toga white roses? Uh? Uhhhhh. I think he definitely remembers. But questions abound.

Ufo's shadow girls? Shadow girls having flesh is deeply concerning.

TRUE FRIENDS ARE JUST FANTASIES. OK.

And UFO's broke, so that's probably not great. Who's getting the Revelations today.

That is the fakest voice toga what the fuck

Badboy Saionji: We're Gonna get the eternity.

Also, I just realized they (saionji and anthy) have color inversions going on which is making me kinda wonder if they're related in some way?

Just slap the shit out of him that's fair.

Ok, so Saionji didn't(?) do the dumb thing. Ok,

that is...a coffin. That he's 100% obssessed with. With Anthy (Utena) inside.

He's looking like he kissed his own mom right now, goin full oedipus in the holy shit revelations here.

Castle is crumbling, falling down. So...Eternity is Fake. Ok. Sure. Didn't shadow girls say that?

Castle Immediately tried to kill him. Crushed his soul 1 time too many there I suppose.

Utena, meanwhile, dove super deep into saving anthy which...diving deeper into the fantasy?

Yeah, they all just saw things.

Saionji: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED WHATS GOING ON?

Bro, me too.

Ok, if the two are reflections, does Anthy and saionji both got some deep illusory bullshit going on? Are they both freaking out?

Toga, saving the day, and Saionji, tried to kill Utena with a sword. so. Ok.

Saionji Expelled?  Toga, fool for thinking they're friends?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?

Overall Thoughts: I touched on a bunch of the Saionji stuff I wanna talk about in the last episode review, but the thing I kinda want to look at here is well...

Ok, Now the colors probably don't mean anything, but there was this moment that Saionji and Anthy were in the same shot and I suddenly realized they're color flips of each other. Purple hair green eyes, Green Hair Purple eyes, which ok that's interesting.

So we already have Utena Reflecting on Anthy, and hey, there's Zero Reason, absolutely negative number reasons why that wouldn't necessarily be the case with any and all of the rest of the duelists to some degree or another.

And hell, the fact that we keep flipping back and forth between Utena and Anthy in Coffins, there being (for some weird ass reason) a third entirely unrelated coffin for Utena's folks funeral, why the fuck not right?

So ok, Anthy and Saionji mirror each other which...Ok. If the Personality Swap from Episode 8 thing holds, The two actually share some pretty dickish actions. They can be cruel and petty and just antagonistic to things that don't quite jive with what they want. Saionji with Anthy not being...whatever he's expecting out of her, or Utena butting in. Anthy with the girls who keep fucking with her and Saionji.

They both seem to be utterly STUCK on the Rose Bride thing, although from different angles of Possessing the Rosebride and being the Rosebride, and the kind of weird shaping of the Rosebride thing that's going on.

Saionji is treated as a joke by the student council, especially after he get's kicked out, which ultimately ends with him being someone who is generally wanted but ends up ultimately exiled from society. Which mirrors with Anthy as someone is is wanted, but doesn't seem to have ANY kind of actual tangible bonds with anyone.

And, for this last one I have ZERO evidence on the Anthy end, but the suggestions are uh..interesting. Saionji in this episode, as suggested by the shadow girls at least in part, is deeply deeply invested in a fantasy of some kind, one that ultimately leaves him crushed and rather empty, further exiled from people who could or do care for him and that he cares about. Which if we're going with the property sliding across and He's a Foil for Utena (which I think is definitely true in some ways) suggests bad things for her down the line.

Episode 10

Saionji's a joke huh? He's taking it well.

Toga WOW. WOW YOU FUCKING DOUCHE. STRAIGHT IN THE FIRE HUH.

EGG TIME.

So, thing about eggs, that includes whats inside it right? so...Revolutionize yourself right? Right? That's obvious right?

Oh new duelist. Cool cool.

Utena getting slapped. By Nanami. With Utena being hella submissive. (EPISODE 8 FLASHBACKS INTENSIFY)

maybe a girl can't be a prince. THERES THAT THESIS. E8 FLASHBACKS

Nanami got her brother a kitty.

Oh damn it is Nanami. Duel Time. I mean we sall it in the opening but you know.

Jesus Toga, please stop being

OH GOD NANAMI NO. NOOOOOO NOPE NO.

Toga: We ain't kids no more. Shit don't fly.

Nanami: Emotionally devastated.

Is that Miki's sister?

Hey, what happened to the cat?

Juri: Hey, Serious Business, what the fucks up with the duelist?

Toga is perpatrating as badly as nanami actually. He's just less immediately obvious about it I guess.

Goddamnit there's Anthy's next slap. Jesus. Legit, who hasn't at this point. Is this a theme? IS THIS A THING?

Jesus, he's just playing all of this to piss her off? What the fucks up.

...Did nanami kill the cat. Uh...Uhhhhhh.

Ring is an engagement ring. Wait, that's a flat out school rule that everyone knows? For real? Uh.

...What the fuck happened with the kitty. Uh...

ITS TIME. ABSOLUTE DESTINYYYYYYYYYYYY

I just realized the kinda weird framing with Anthy dressing up utena kinda looks like her opening her legs up with the way it get's framed and I'm not sure if that's me just kinda over reading things or if that's a thing.

Nanami's duel outfit is SICK. Also, a yellow alt color of utena.

Actually. ACTUALLY? Is...Is Nanami like an Utena Alt color? That can't be right. Actually looking at  them right next to each other they're...straight up alt colors of each other. Not to mention Nanami's my prince thing mirrors Utena.

She just HOT pulled a knife. Oh she's About to fucking hot MERC utena, going for death jessus.

They're supposed to be around the same age too for that matter right?

She absolutely killed that cat and it's...

With her hair down she does look like an utena alt color even more.

Why's the duel music still going after the duel finished. Jesus. This wasn't a duel with Nanami, it was a duel with Toga, and I think Utena Hot lost it out and out.

Overall Thoughts: Well the Big thing I'm paying attention here are two. First the simpler one.

The Egg has to break the shell of the world to be born right? I'm paraphrasing badly, but the thing is the way they keep phrasing that is that the World is the Egg, but the egg isn't just the shell right? It includes what's inside of it. Which if that's the case, mixed with the way that duels work out being more a clash of ideals than of actual tangible skill, the revolutionize the world bit seems to be referring to them themselves, that is the duelists.

Alternatively, the Bird Referenced, the thing being revolutionized is Anthy. Which...Is an interesting line of thought. Given the Duels as a whole are basically choosing who her fiance will be, that'd imply that ultimately this decides the way that Anthy would come to develop? Or how she chooses to develop? Which ok if so, and the way that Ideals seem to be at play, Suggests...What? Dunno. Need more info, which will be delivered later.

But the other thing here, continuing the mirroring thing, which might be me reading too deeply, but I think not and even if it is Whatever I'm having fun.

THE ENTIRE NANAMI DUEL felt like a Mirror Match.Heck, Nanami dressed like an alt color of Utena, and especially once her hair got undone she looked even more like an alt color of Utena. They're only about a year different in age, and her brother seems to be her Prince type, and he drops the ring on her like an engagement ring, and she basically says I fight like my brother because he's my ideal.

Which is a weird thing since right now it's not going...too far. I'll have to see how it shakes out, but if the mirroring thing continues, the fact that the moment she lost she basically said nope fuck that, Knife Time, was...Concerning. It says real concerning things with Utena.

But it also says other interesting things then, because if Nanami is supposed to be some kind of Alt color Utena, similar in ambition goals and the like, if more outwardly girly to Utena's princey thing, their relationship with Anthy is uh..

Uh...

Well put simply, Utena is fucking up big and dramatic with Anthy, and she doesn't realize it at all or care because she can't see it for what it is. Nanami actively tries to undermine Anthy, and does some fucked up things to her. Which..Makes me wonder about the Divine Judgement thing from Episode 8 which, damnably, seems to be forming some kind of key here.

Like the way it's frame suggests the divine Judgement being visited upon Nanami is what's being talked about. But ok, Nanami had some bad shit happen to her sure, but...All of that was self inflicted upon her trying to fix what she percieves as a problem. Yes her reasons for doing it are so she can be with her brother, no doubt, but...They're ridiculous. Like, I cannot believe this shit is happening. But

But

If the Target of Divine Judgement/punishment is the Anthy Utena duo, one or both of them are on the receiving end of it. It's not clear how Acting like Utena would be a punishment for Anthy (I'm sticking with it just being a personality swap and not a full mind swap) but Utena who prides herself on being princely and aspires to that being the super submissive rosebride? I could see that being a kind of hell for her. And if the logic of Utena is Undermining Anthy holds out, but the criitcal difference being her ignorance and dishonesty of why compared to Nanami unabashedly saying yes I am fucking doing this fuck you I get what I want no hold barred, it...

Like, Nanami, as far as it goes, doesn't really receive a punishment if we're being honest. Yes she takes a couple of elephants to the dome, and has to be away from her brother and see her thing fail but..The way it's treated by herself and everyone else is basically a LOL THESE THINGS HAPPEN I GUESS HAHAHA. The Utena/Anthy swap meanwhile seems considerably more serious for them (especially considering the Everyone Slaps Anthy thing that seems to legit be a thing. Somehow. Except here Applied to “Utena”), and seems to cause some serious distress.

We'll see I guess.

Episode 11

As I watch this opening more and more, why is anthy like constantly framed like...Ominous as shit? Is it me?

Homegirl is just. Damn. Sure glad NOTHING BAD WILL HAPPEN (I do not trust this series to not have something bad happen to Wakaba. Again.)

Anthy. Are..are you...passive aggressively doing...something

Toga: I can see through the illusions yeah boi.

I do not trust this for an inch. He is abusing the shit out of his framing, like the whole time, and I don't trust.

Toga is “student council prince” archetype. Miki's nerdy student counciler.

EGG TIME

Juri is...Antagonistic But well meaning?

Saionji...I'm not sure he was actually on the stuco. But if so, bad boy.

What....is with the balloons. The color coded balloons.

Miki: Like a Pet Cat.

The Pet Cat that died, got killed.

WHAT IS WITH THESE BALLOONS.

ALSO I SEENT YOU PURPLE BALLOON.

So if the duels are ideal clashes more than actually a matter of direct skill, is this Toga (touga?) trying to fuck with Utena before the fight?

Anthy is a Bird. Ok. And Toga, arguably, being the biggest dick here. We thought it was Saionji, but the trick was he's the red part of the rose.

Anthy shut down REAL quick when being the rose bride was brought up.

Is Utena projecting mad hard onto Anthy here?

Homeboy needs to stop playing these games.

Utena, Stahp.  DO NOT TRUST HIM.

Toga, You...DOUCHE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

Toga: Oh My B, Shouldn't act that way in front of the rose bride. ALSO DUELING LETS GOOOOO.

Utena: one link forces me to fight him. Meanwhile, rose symbols everywhere, a lot of them brought in by anthy.

Hmmmmmmm.

Utena is hard not understanding something here. I don't know what (rose bride related for sure) but I don't get...WHAT is off here.

Cause thinking about it, Utena's objective with Anthy is arguably the most noble, but she's still not quite treating anthy as a person.

….William Tell Interlude is SUITABLY CONCERNING considering the above thoughts so uh.

Also that was a weirdly specific number. 30K arrows or something?

I just realized that the DARKNESS OF DARKNESS OF LIGHT OF DESTINY OF (INSERT) things seems to show up right around anthy a lot. I'm not super sure if that's a whole thing or just a this episode thing, but...

Is Utena about to get HOT DUNKED? Because I think she is.

Also, I just realized, Utena slid into that pull sword out of rose bride thing right quick and she's never once questioned that.

So yes, Utena has BOOTY but cheeks swordsmanship, which yeah, obvs. Two of the people she beat were actually skilled before this fight, and yet she won somehow.

I don't know how to deal with these lyrics. But Toga is absolutely  fucking with her head here.

And She Lost. Decisively. YUP. WELP THIS IS GONNA BE A THING NEXT TIME.

Toga: Hey you don't have to deal with this bullshit anymore.

Utena is doing the EXACT same shit Miki and Saionji were pulling, and Anthy's blank soulless stare is freaking me the hell out. Again.

So, ideals here. But the idea that whoever has a...better grasp of the truth is the victor. Which makes sense that Toga wins here.

Jesus, Soul crush 2.0, except it's on Utena this time. Goddamn.

WELL NEXT EPISODE PROMISES TO BE FUN.

Utena: ITS NOT TRUE. ITS NOT TRUE!

The Anime Revolutionary Girl Utena IMMEDIATELY: MISSING TRUTH ETCETC HOLD ME IN YOUR TRUE ARMS I WANT TO KEEP SMASHING LIES APART

SURE THAT MEANS NOTHING GUYS GGNORE.

Also, no joke, these seem like a Direct response to this episode and I'm not sure how to feel about that.

I want to be hated by lies? Uhhhhh.

Overall Thoughts: So Hey, Here we are in Episode 11 and I want to talk about how Utena and Saionji basically are each other right here.

Like overtly even I think, even if the actions aren't precise clean mirrors to each other which I guess is just how i'm going to be going through this series right now RiP.

But ok, here's the thing. What has been increasingly clear as time goes by is that Utena is fundamentally misunderstanding something about Anthy. I'm not sure fully what it is, but it's clearly Rosebride related, and the thing with the clashing ideals suggests that the.

Actually let me explain that clear like. Right now my read on the Duels is that they are NOT in any way shape or form a demonstration of skill. I Think that's clear through this point, but I'm making it explicit for my own sake. The Victor of the Duel isn't the better fighter. If that were the case, It'd suggest the only ones in the running at all would be Toga or Saionji (Juri should also be in here, but I'm not actually clear how skilled she is compared to those two, and the way they're treated suggests that Toga and Saionji are comparable in pure skill/ability.)

But Utena somehow beat Saionji like three times, Juri and Miki. Miki's whatever, but Juri clearly knows what she's doing, and Saionji seems to be Kendo Team captain so you know. Up there. Meanwhile, Utena explicitly is an amateur.

I'm not saying, in full, that actual skill with the blade is a null thing, but your ideals seems to be the biggest factor over everything else. Presumably, people rocking equally “powerful” ideals would fall to skill with the sword.

Anyway. The Truths that Seem to be critical are Anthy Wants to Be Free of the Rosebride. Ok, so Utena has the right read then right? But then she lost to Toga who seems to be rocking Anthy Wants to Be, or else Considers herself fundamentally to be, the Rosebride, which is something that Utena seems to be denying about Anthy, but is none the less true.

But then, How are Utena and Saionji the same? Well, remember an episode back where I was talking about the divine punishment thing and all that jazz from episode 8?

It hits both of them for mistreating the Rosebride. There is a fantasy going on between Utena and Saionji, and while Saionji's is a bit complicated and unclear I think, Utena's actually is pretty straightforward I think. Utena want's to be a prince. That's her fantasy. The general virtues she want's to possess are great. Good even. But the specific's seems to involve a kind of rides in and saves the day riding in on a white horse thing, where she's the hero and does for some poor unfortunate girl what her prince did to her.

Saionji's meanwhile, seems to be something of him having a genuine reciprocal relationship with Anthy, with him inhabiting the role of a badboy romantic lead while the two of them have feelings for each other. When, really, he doesn't seem to care for her, or at least the feelings that he has for her are considerably weaker than whatever awkward feelings he has going on for Toga (I'm seriously a little fuzzy here, cause it feels like following his most recent defeat he's rocking some kind of clarity? I don't know how it's gonna work out, but I could sorta see him Returning and upsetting whatever the then status quo is.)

But notably, the big thing between them is their staunch refusal to accept what seems to be really true about their relationship with Anthy.

That the end theme seems to immediately pop up as an answer to Utena's reaction feels...Purposeful.