#love stories that let people be flawed and messy and broken but still worthy of love and affection and don't need to change for it!

[bookgeekgrrl]

Sunday reading recap (23-Aug-20)

great week for new releases! that was about all it was a good week for!

👂 The Black Mountain (Nero Wolfe #24) (Rex Stout)

💜 Sugar Baby Love (roe87) - 117K, shrunkyclunks, a/b/o, kidfic - if that’s your jam, you know it; it’s definitely mine (well, i don’t always love the kidfic but this one was tolerable and the other elements made up for what i didn’t love unreservedly) 

Better Than People (Roan Parrish) - "grouchy children's book illustrator with a broken leg & a pack of adorable rescue dogs & cats, super anxious animal lover, cozy cabincore AF” 

💜 The Sugared Game (Will Darling Adventures #2) (KJ Charles) - jesus fuck, this series just keeps getting better & better. I cannot WAIT for the final book in this trilogy. Kim’s practice of being a squirrelly af bin fox brings his life crashing about his ears - so far, he’s still got Will & Will’s Emotional Support Knife in his corner but what now? But I love knowing & trusting that this will end with a HEA (however that looks for them). [As usual, the easter eggs to other books are screamworthy.] Some absolute fave quotes/moments:

They didn’t belong together— Will was a plain man with a knack for violence, while Kim was a twisty upper-class bundle of nerves— but they’d fit.

“No, you look,” Maisie said, sounding extremely Welsh.

“When people are obliged to keep an eye out for threats, their eyes tend to be sharp. That’s what women’s intuition means, if you ask me: being unconsciously alert for dangerous men.”

Phoebe, clad in a frothy dressing-gown, was running down the stairs. [REDACTED] cursed and started up towards her; Phoebe swung onto the banister, slid down it in a flurry of sea-green material and bare calves, and leapt lightly off the end, as if she’d done it a hundred times. {THIS IS MY FAVE ACTION MOMENT IN THE ENTIRE BOOK TBH}

Trouble & Strife (Chances Limited #2) (Lara Kinsey)

Guide To Troubled Birds (Matt Adrian)

💜 A Collar For His Brat series -  I love this series - Ewan's so prickly, like a porcupine & Nate just wants to be his supportive, affectionate, sadistic sugar daddy and wrap him up, while being *very* careful not to break any of Ewan's thorns. I love how this series takes its time to develop their relationship and their getting to know each other and how they fit together, but each ‘episode’ gives the reader a couple of good scenes. (Her other series does that too, but with a couple with a very different dynamic, equally good) [#1-4 were rereads in prep for the release of #5]

Override: A Collar For His Brat #1 (RJ Moray) 

Crash: A Collar For His Brat #2 (RJ Moray)

Reboot : A Collar For His Brat #3 (RJ Moray)

Debug: A Collar For His Brat #4 (RJ Moray)

Interrupt (A Collar for His Brat #5) (RJ Moray)

Brute Force (A Collar for His Brat #5.5) (RJ Moray)

A Sub For Christmas (A Santa Rita Doms story) (RJ Moray) - because I didn’t want to completely leave the Santa Rita Doms universe so I started on the short standalones!

plus 124K of shorter fic - shorter fic shout out to 

Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: Lessons in Lust, Longing and Inappropriate Erections. (darter_blue) - 31K, shrunkyclunks D/s AU - really liked the set up that this is one of the multiverses and due to wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff visitors from the canonverse are popping up. totally satisfactory as a standalone stucky d/s story but am definitely looking forward to more in this universe

[nastassia1031]

Damn.

Let me start off by saying, there’s nothing that could have happened in this ending that could change my love for this show. I think people that say shows are utterly ruined by unsatisfying endings are people who don’t have fandom to fix things. I’m a Game of Thrones fan. I’m a Magicians fan. The ending? That’s a starting point, my dudes. Fandom can fix anything.

First off, I loved the retrospective. For a hot second, I thought about watching that after the finale, but I wanted to watch it the way it was meant to be watched, and I’m glad I made that decision.

Seeing the callbacks to the classic meta episodes and the characters we loved and lost along the way was a comfort. I wish we’d gotten a Crowley cameo in the final season, but seeing a tribute to Crowley and Mark Sheppard in this episode was awesome.

Then the finale.

This isn’t the ending I wanted for the boys. I’ve shipped Destiel since he strolled into Dean’s life in season four and sparks LITERALLY flew, and I was a clown to the last because I really REALLY thought Dabb and the showrunners were going to give it to us. 

I didn’t want this end for Dean. Sure, he was happy in heaven, but I feel like this ending served to undo fifteen years of character development.

Dean spent his entire life full of self-loathing because his father forced him to structure his entire identity around being a hunter since he was a child. Dean feels worthless outside the hunt. He’s “daddy’s blunt instrument.” He’s a weapon. He’s a broken thing that can’t be saved or loved or forgiven. But in 15x18 we finally FINALLY had Cas, a character who has seen into Dean’s soul LITERALLY, who saw every bit of trauma and self-hatred in him who looked him in the eye and said, “that’s not who you are. You’re worthy of love. And I love you.” 

And then the Empty took Cas.

And then Dean died. On one of John’s unfinished hunts. 

It ends bloody, or it ends sad.

It ended both.

Sam lived a life without his brother. We got a kid named Dean and a vague female shaped blur as the wife. I AM fully pissed that we didn’t get Eileen as Sam’s wife. Even if  Shoshannah Stern couldn’t film due to COVID it would have been very very easy to establish her as his wife with a few photographs. Bringing back a fan favorite and setting her up as Sam’s endgame only to back out at the last minute feels like a cop out.

And Dean? He got his endless road, driving Baby until Sam showed up. Switching the license plate back to the KAZ 2Y5 of the early seasons was a nice callback, but I still feel like Dean deserved more.

That illusory future that Chuck showed Sam before it all went bad - Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas, movie nights in the bunker - that’s what I wanted for them.

It ends bloody, or it ends sad.

Nothing will change my love for this show. 

I can picture every detail of my living room in Freeport when I watched the first episode 15 years ago. I remember talking about episodes with my Mom, arguing over which brother was the superior Winchester. I was a Dean girl from day one, while she liked Sam best. I remember the last episode we watched together, 4x06 -Yellow Fever. Not a great episode, though Dean inflicted with ghost sickness had its hilarious moments.

Sam’s words to Dean in their last moments - “You can go now.” I whispered those same words to my Mom on that last day, when cancer had left her little more than a shell of who she’d once been. I’d been crying since the episode started, but when Sam said those words it turned into the type of heaving breathless sobs that I hadn’t cried in years.

I remember burying myself even deeper in fandom after she died, losing myself in the world of angels and demons, where a deal at a crossroads could bring anyone back.

Supernatural was what got me through the darkest of days. It was a friend I met in fandom who gave me something to live for. It was season four and fanfic and fanvids that kept me alive long enough for my wounds to knit themselves into some approximation of healed flesh so that I was strong enough to run away to Texas and carve a future here.

That’s the legacy that show has for me. If you didn’t meet me in high school or college (or William Arthur), you know me because of Supernatural. Full stop.

I never would have ended up in Texas if not for that fandom friend. Never would have met my husband or the amazing friends I have here. Wouldn’t have the career and the entire LIFE I’ve built. Remembering how lost and broken I was back then, I can’t say for sure I’d even be alive now if I hadn’t had the life raft of fandom to cling to.

This show. This flawed, messy, imperfect show. I am not happy with the ending. I wanted so much more for the boys. I wanted happiness that didn’t require death. I wanted Dean to have a chance to be happy with someone who really loved him.

Does it change how I feel about the show? Not in the slightest. We killed Chuck. Worse, we neutered him. The story doesn’t belong to The Powers That Be anymore. It’s ours.

Dean. Sam. Cas. Jack. Bobby. Charlie. Crowley. Rowena. Ellen. Jo. Gabriel. Jody. Donna. Claire. Kevin. Lucifer. Balthazar. Ketch. John. Mary.

They all belong to us now.

Fifteen years. 327 episodes.

I love you Supernatural.

[artigas]

(1) Hi! Its the anon that asked about lizzie and tatiana, I’m currently halfway through s5 and i really like jessie! I thought she was gonna be the one to finally resist tommys advances. I liked the scene where he goes to her apartment and they have a good back and forth. But alas she cant resist and sleeps w him, and he’s essentially just using her. I love her as a character and how she manifests her ideals into actions but, so far i thought she’d call out tommys shit by now!

And specially i cant help but resent how they set up the women to compete against one another, i rolled my eyes at the scene where they are exiting the polls and jesse and lizzie size each other up. Girls, please move on. I did like in season 5 where tommy is drunk meeting w jessie and she just gets up and leaves. I think the show has good female characters it just that they prioritize the male ones more. Unlike the women, the male characters dont revolve around a relationship. and finally, And idk if im just overthinking things but i think the show has upped its sexist comments? specially w tommy and arthur. W tommy telling lizzie shes his property and arthur telling linda to just be a good wife. Meanwhile polly and ada are really well written characters for the most part! Sorry this is so long i just have a lot of thoughts regarding the women of this show. And i love your analisis!

Nope! Don’t apologize, friend, I’ve absolutely adored reading all your feedback and your experience watching the show! I think Peaky Blinders, for all its good, has a lot of space to grow when it comes to women characters who are potentially romantically/sexually available to the protagonists- it does sometimes feel like the quality of writing and the depth of character for women characters waxes and wanes, but I also think that a lot of these characters- Lizzie, Grace, Polly, Esme, etc- have these great foundations, these building blocks of characterization that make them really compelling and really promising so long as they have free reign to be written as complexly and as thoughtfully as their male counterparts. I think Grace is a really stellar example, you know? Love her or hate her, she has a history, a back-story, individual motivations, and a social/political ideology that can actually really be broken down in some pretty interesting ways! Polly, too, is another character who is probably most obviously allowed to be pointedly ambitious, sexual, manipulative and outright cruel and still someone the show clearly roots for and sides with. I love what we get with Polly, especially considering how most shows would probably limit her to being maternal, chaste, and uninvolved in the family business (likely because of her age, too). Overall, I think the show does a good job of giving women characters flaws- none of them are meant to be perfect. But I really do think Peaky Blinders could benefit from occasionally resisting the urge to have all its women have romantic subplots, primarily with Tommy almost unexceptionally. 

As far as Jessie goes, I really do love that she’s someone who has this strong ethical and political foundation. I mean, Jessie and Freddie in a room together would’ve been a sight, right? I especially adored her scenes with Ada. I think they had such interesting chemistry and so much could’ve been done if the show had the real estate to really contrast Jessie’s idealism and dedication to the communist cause and Ada’s disenchanted relationship with that same movement she once honestly dedicated herself to. The fact that Jessie and Tommy both draw together because they represent to one (or, at least, invoke the memory of) their respective lost loves was also a refreshing change in terms of the sort of “romantic” relationships Tommy has had thus far. (How authentic we want to think that ‘relationship’ was from either Jessie or Tommy’s end is a different story and definitely worthy of suspect and investigation in the funnest possible way, I think, but I don’t wanna rant).

As far as season five goes, I think the hike in misogynist language and ideology wasn’t coincidental or without thought. I think Arthur and Tommy both are progressively getting worse as the show goes on and went through separate, but equally erosive psychological processes that took out a really ugly side to them both, especially in their relationship with the women in their lives. It felt to me like both characters were scrambling for control and finding a way to express authority over women who depend on them became one of the ways that need made itself manifest. I think it’s no coincidence that Lizzie and Linda look for solidarity in each other. I think their joint decision to write those letters, advocate their needs, and then respectively find some sort of approach to the state of their lives so that they could carry on with some semblance of safety, security, or (dare I say it!) happiness was interesting and heartbreaking- Linda tried to find it by leaving the family, finding another person to speak to and find solace with, and then eventually breaking down to the decision to attack Arthur and it hurt to see it! Lizzie’s own process was so complex, I think. I could go on and on about her belief that life wasn’t about what one deserves, but what one agrees to, settles for, etc. Her sex scene with Tommy, too, really just invites so much analysis and criticism, right? Which makes it, I think, a very effective sex scene as far as writing goes, because it isn’t a pause from characterization or plot, but rather a moment of intimacy between Lizzie and Tommy that reveals a different facet of their respective character developments. Was it kinda messy for Tommy to call her his property? Absolutely! But I also don’t want to dismiss how much I liked hearing Lizzie advocate some boundaries in that sex scene, too. It’s complicated, man! It’s a scene a lot of people have interpreted different and I’ve loved hearing all the different takes, there’s so much validity to be found in the different readings I’ve already seen out there. 

I think the show made no excuses for how awful Tommy and Arthur were being through season five. I think we as the audience are meant to recognize that their conduct and their comments weren’t something to emulate or exonerate, but instead symptomatic of their downwards progression throughout the season. It’s just a shame that these condemnations probably aren’t overt enough for the real Meat-Head faction of the fandom to catch onto- reddit is a nasty place to venture off into if you’re invested in any of Peaky’s female characters, that’s for sure. But man, if you’re here on tumblr, boy does this fandom have a lot of people churning out meta worth reading! If you want some blog recommendations, let me know!!! Thank you for keeping my in the loop with your watching journey ♡

[bensboynton]

Soulmate r.t

was this requested? no. did i plan this out? no. does it have a plot? barely. here’s three thousand words of whipped roger and angst. enjoy. 

paring: fem!reader x 70s!roger taylor

warnings: swearing, ANGST, death, roger being Whipped, unedited(sorry for errors)

word count: 3.4k

Roger never thought that he was worthy of true love.

Whether or not that was some fucked up inner dialogue or not, Roger never gave much thought to the idea of finding his “person.” It’s not that he didn’t want love, it was just never too high on his mental to-do list.

He was the person to scoff at cheesy romance movies and roll his eyes at the sight of a couple in public. And he was the one to ask girls to leave his flat right after they finished having sex.

After a lot of in-depth personal psychoanalysis, Roger managed to narrow down his biggest flaw and what caused it; he was scared.

Every human on planet earth is scared, of course. But Roger Taylor was terrified. One day he was 16, making out with a girl at a football game and next thing he knows he’s 26 and still having one night stands like they were going out of style.

True love had never really crossed his mind until his best friend’s wedding.

John Deacon got married, and he was forced to sit at a ceremony and watch two people who were sickeningly in love dance and gaze into each other’s eyes. It made him sick.

But then, on the train ride back home, he got to thinking. What if that was never him? What if he never found someone like John did? What if he never got to drop his act and never got to be soft and grossly in love at his own wedding?

He shook the idea off and continued with his life. He didn’t need to be in love. Especially after all of his relationships in the past ending so violently his heart felt like it was broken in his chest.

And that’s what he convinced himself. He made himself believe that he was fine living alone, that he would be perfectly okay with growing old and dying alone while all of his best friends had wives, kids, and a large family to come home to every day.

He forced himself to be okay with it.

Until he woke up one day with the painstaking thought that he would grow old alone, experience life alone, and one day die alone and have to be buried in the singles section of the cemetery; the section where all the lonely old people who have no one to be buried next to go.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do at that point.

So, he reacted to his sorrowful revelation by drowning his sorrows in liquor. Like he normally did.

Roger hated thinking. He hated his brain, the way it worked, what he thought about. Sometimes he’d want to hit his head against a wall to stop the thoughts from swimming around in his skull until he couldn’t breathe.

The thoughts would stop if he drank enough tequila, so instead of spending a night in, alone with his fucked up brain, he went out again.

The bar Roger normally went to was cozy. It was built in the 1800s or something (Roger wasn’t paying attention to the bartender when he told the story) and the wood that made up the walls was old. It was slightly cracked and had newspapers and magazine covers that detailed the bar’s history littering the walls in rusty picture frames.

All the old antique lamps and extravagantly gothic light fixtures were fitted with yellow lightbulbs; so yellow he would close his eyes after leaving and see the warmth from them in his eyelids.

The hardwood floor was dull and scratched, showing the age of the building more than anything else. And every night he went for a drink, at least one wooden stool would snap in half under the weight of a drunk British man.

The bar had become his home.

The bartender that worked every night was short; so short that it was the first thing Roger noticed about him. He looked as if he could be a 16-year-old in a 30-year-old’s body. It could make Roger giggle if he was drunk enough.

The man’s name was Mitch… or Michael. He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that the short guy at the bar (maybe his name was Matthew?) knew Roger’s drink order by heart.

Roger wouldn’t even get two steps in the door before his beer was popped open on the counter in front of his usual seat.

The bar was mildly busy. Not uncomfortably packed, just enough for it to be a good time.

Roger had picked up countless girls at this bar, and not just average girls. Some of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He considered the place good luck.

But he clumsily stumbled into the bar again, with absolutely 0 intention of taking anyone home that night. He just needed a break.

He sat down at his seat, frowning at the lack of a beer sitting in front of him. He was tired, mentally and physically, and laid his head in his hands. After a few moments, he decided he would need something stronger than a beer.

“What can I get you?” a soft, but raspy voice inquired. Roger didn’t even have the energy to look up at them.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Roger mumbled into his hands. He heard a small hum from whoever was behind the bar (it definitely wasn’t Mitch) as they walked away to get his drink.

He heard the tap of the glass hitting the bar, causing him to pry his hands away from his face and frantically swallow some of the liquid.

“Rough day?” the worker asked again, causing him to finally look at the bartender.

He choked on the liquor running through his throat as his eyes raked up and down the woman standing in front of him.

She had beautiful hair pulled back into a messy bun, but it somehow still looked so incredibly put together. Her eyes managed to be brilliant and oddly blinding in the dimly lit warmth of the pub, and her uniform hugged her body in all the right ways.

He was about to ask her to marry him.

“You could say that,” he managed to say, suddenly very aware of her gaze on him. She had been intrigued by his slightly wavy hair and his very blue eyes. They were tired, but he managed to pull it off.

And thus began the beginning of a relationship.

She finished her shift at 11 and decided to stay and talk with Roger for a little. She sat down next to Roger in this little pub in the south of London and talked to him for four hours.

She was mysterious. And her smile glowed. She had positivity and optimism practically dripping from every single pore in her body. And she opened herself up completely to Roger.

That’s what intrigued him most. The fact that she didn’t have walls. She was completely authentic; an open book to anyone that wanted to know anything about her.

She was timelessly beautiful. Not a drop-dead gorgeous model, but truly beautiful. She possessed the type of beauty that could be captured in a polaroid, and admired decades after it had been taken. There was no other word to describe her other than perfect.

Roger wanted her so bad. And not under him in his bed. He wanted just about everything else she had to offer. And that scared his already terrified soul even more. How could he want someone he just met?

She was captivating. Spoke with such purpose, yet her tongue softened her consonants enough to fool you into believing she was calm and reserved. But she was a spitfire, especially with a little alcohol in her system.

She was passionate but respectful. Wild, but calm. Captivating, but also elusive. She was like a drug and Roger already couldn’t get enough.

She didn’t seem to understand her beauty. Roger felt the need to remind her as the night grew older and the moon got tried of moping lazily in the pitch black sky. After the sun flipped the world on its head and brightened up the atmosphere, Roger realized he needed to go home.

And he didn’t get her number.

He walked away from the pub that night cursing himself into oblivion for letting someone like that, someone like her get away just like that.

So he went back to the bar the next night. And the night after that. Until she was finally working, and he got to talk to her again.

When he had walked in and seen her tiny but powerful figure behind the bar, he felt butterflies erupt in the pits of his intestines. His shoes felt like they were lifting him off the ground. This was so unlike Roger.

Being nervous to talk to a girl was one thing, but being this excited about it was another. She had caught his eye from across the room, beaming at him with an Earth-shattering smile that made his knees weak.

He finally got her number.

And now here he was, at the same bar two and a half years later. Except she wasn’t there with him.

After Roger had invited her over for dinner, they kissed. And they moved slow. They didn’t have sex for a month (which felt like a decade for Roger) but for her, he would wait. He would’ve waited an eternity for her.

She infatuated him in every single way. Her laugh, the way her eyes twinkled every time she looked at the sky. Roger wanted nothing more than to soak himself in all that she was and lose himself in her essence.

Roger asked her to move in with him six months later. She said yes. He could’ve cried when she agreed.

He was more conscious of himself and the way he moved/spoke/ate/laughed. But he had never felt more of himself. She brought out the very best in him, and he fell sickeningly in love with her sickeningly fast.

He had said “I love you” for the first time in the middle of her talking about her night was at the bar. He blurted it out after spending the past five minuted admiring the hair she was twisting around her index finger, and how she paused to lick her lips every few minutes.

She had stopped abruptly before thoughtfully gazing at him from across the dining table in Roger’s modest sized flat, before saying “I love you too.”

She had pushed the plastic plates off the table and jumped on top of it, climbing across to Roger and plopping herself in his lap. God, he was so in love with her.

He reminded her every single day that she was the most perfect, amazing, beautiful person he had ever met. And he reveled in her presence.

It was remarkable how much Roger had changed over a span of seven months. From having sex with three girls in the same night on Saturday’s to staying in all weekend watching really cheesy movies. It was insane.

Roger’s friends would tease him, and before, Roger would’ve gotten embarrassed. Before her. But he was almost proud of it now. He almost wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much he fucking loved her.

But this passionate love was not one-sided. She felt the exact same way.

She would gush to her lady-friends about Roger, about his eyes and his smile and the way he scrunched up his face if you tapped the tip of his nose. They noticed how smitten she was, as well.

Both groups of friends belonging to either side of the couple were in love with how much they loved each other.

The romance and admiration never once faltered. Never once did Roger wake up and think that the day was mediocre. He woke up next to his soulmate and felt it was the best day of his life. Just because she was in it.

And never once did the girl look at Roger and not feel her heart flutter so rapidly she thought it would fly up her throat and escape through her mouth.

They quite literally had it all.

A decent apartment, enough money to live comfortably, both of them were happy with what they were doing, and they most importantly had each other.

They started living life together, as couples do. And Roger had finally gotten comfortable and relaxed. He loved her so much and she loved him just as much back. He finally opened up and let his hardened edges soften. He was vulnerable.

After all, it’s quite literally impossible to not soften a little when Roger met his girl. His love. His darling (pet names were never his thing… until he met her).

She brought so much light into his life, you could call her the sun. She was the sunrise, the sunset, the blooming of the fruit trees in the spring, and the first fluff layer of snow in the winter. She was everything.

The bitter coffee that Roger would choke down every morning suddenly became sweeter when he was with her. The air outside seemed to smell better. Those pastries from the bakery around the corner from Roger’s flat suddenly tasted so much better than he remembered.

She heightened every single one of his senses. Everything that was mundane and boring before suddenly became one of the most interesting and important tasks with her. She made everything interesting. She made Roger’s life worth living.

And then Roger went on his first tour with his bandmates.

And if you talked to Roger today, he would say it was the biggest mistake of his life. And for good reason.

Roger having to part from his soulmate was more than rough. There were more than enough tears that were shed that day at the airport. The girl had gone home and gotten familiar with the comfortable embrace of silence.

And she was okay with it. Because she promised Roger she would be waiting when he got back. And she never broke a single promise to Roger in their entire two and a half years they had been dating.

Except for this one.

Roger had called the phone in their house for their daily chat, and it was the last day of the tour. He was so excited to see her smile and hear her laugh in person again, to get his hands on her after having no one to satisfy him for months.

But there was no answer.

Roger’s smile had faltered, but he has thought nothing of it. He had created an imaginary world in his mind where she was just trying to ignore him so she could surprise the shit out him when he got home.

He walked up to the house, his heart bursting at the seams with excitement as he clumsily opened the lock, shoving himself into the house and stumbling over his bags. He threw them to the ground and ran into the living room, waiting to see his sitting on the couch.

She wasn’t there.

He checked the kitchen, the backyard, the laundry room, and finally made his way to the bedroom. He pushed open the door and his entire world came crashing down in an instant.

Her lifeless body was sprawled across the carpet, the rosy flush in her cheeks and lips gone. Her hair felt brittle and cold, and her fingers were freezing to the touch.

For the first time in 4 years, Roger began to cry.

After performing CPR and screaming for help, he finally called an ambulance. They came to his house and delivered the news that the love of his life was dead.

He went to bed that night and didn’t move from his mattress for four days.

He finally moved when he got a phone call from the hospital, informing him that she suffered from heart failure. There was nothing anyone could have done to help her.

Roger had hung up the phone and went back to bed. He didn’t shower for another three days.

He couldn’t sleep, because every time he closed his eyes he would see her face dancing across his vision. And he couldn’t blink because she was imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. He couldn’t eat, because the thought of doing anything that she used to do made him sick to his stomach.

Roger quit his band, moved out of his apartment, and barely left his much smaller apartment.

Unless he was going to the bar.

He went every goddamn night as if she was going to be working. As if she was going to be working her shift, and they could start over. As if Roger could reintroduce himself.

He got drunk every night. Constantly in a loop of getting shitfaced, being hungover, and getting shitfaced again before the hangover was even gone. He was in a haze. He was hollow, a ghost, a shell of what he used to be.

The sky suddenly didn’t look as blue anymore. He stopped drinking coffee because it was too bitter for his taste. He stopped eating at new and exotic places around town. He stopped smiling at people on the street.

Roger reverted so far into himself he forgot who he was. Who she taught him to be.

He would go home every night, drunk out of his mind, and scream. Scream her name, scream at God, scream at the universe. Scream at the unfairness of this. Scream at the heavens for taking her instead of him.

He wished it had been him.

He prayed to a God he wasn’t even sure existed that they would let her switch places. Let her live and let him die. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it without her in his life. Without her laugh, and her positive outlook, and her psychotic stories from her high school years.

Roger thought he knew pain. He thought he was familiar with pain in the same way you’re familiar with your parent’s favorite songs. But he didn’t know pain until he lost her.

His heart ached all day every day. Sometimes it was dull but ever present, and other times it was sharp and breathtaking. Roger Taylor was quite literally suffering from a broken heart.

After she was gone, Roger promised never to move on. Even though that’s probably what she would have wanted. He treasured her memory and the many memories they had together. He wrote about them in journals so he wouldn’t forget, and he never dated anyone else.

He never opened himself up again. He had made that mistake. But he had also had his happily ever after. Roger Taylor lived a painfully short infinity with the love of his life, his soulmate. He had his chance at happiness. He would never find someone else that understood him as she did.

He would never be as carefree with anyone else, never feel as alive as he felt with her. She was the wind beneath his wings, the air in his lungs and the pulse in his chest. And she was gone. He was done with looking for that with anyone else. He had his chance. He lived with his soulmate. And she was gone now.

So he lived out the rest of his life in solitude, calmly and nimbly jumping through the twists and turns of life. And when he died, Roger’s casket was placed right next to hers in the ground. After 96 years of living on this planet, and 93.5 of them being without her, he finally realized something.

That he was deserving of love. He was all along. His love was just brief. It fiery red hot. It was so powerful it would make other people look away in envy. He found the true-love he had previously been so desperate to find.

After living a lifetime of trying to find love, finding it, losing it, and trying to find inner peace and acceptance after, Roger Taylor passed away from old age and was buried in a cemetery, but not in the “singles” section as he feared. He was buried next to the love of his life.

So, turns out that she did keep her promise. She had always been waiting for Roger. Except now, she was waiting with wide arms at the gates of heaven. She always kept her promises.

Roger got to live out the rest of eternity with his soulmate. He was finally at peace with himself and one idea.

He was truly 110% deserving of true, authentic, and beautiful love.

[flying-elliska]

Elu feelings

I cope by writing meta, so expect a lot of it this weekend. I think I’m going to be processing s3 for a long time tbh.  I feel like all ships have a few core emotions they run on, you know ? 

The first one I can think for Eliott and Lucas is relief. Like look at them after their first kiss, hugging and laughing. It’s like this big stormcloud of tension that has just broken into rain over their heads and is now watering their crops. Relief because they’ve both been lonely for a long time and they just found each other and it’s downright miraculous.

 It’s that corniest of corny tropes, love at first sight, except for them it really works, because they show us time and time again how perfectly they fit together. They both want something committed and deep, they’ve got artistic sensibilities, they’ve been hurt a lot by life but still want to believe, they’re both so passionate. Eliott’s romantic playfulness manages to reach beyond Lucas’ walls, Lucas’ fierce devotion is able to reach through Eliott’s pessimism and self-hate. They can be themselves together after a lifetime of hiding. Eliott gives Lucas signs that it’s okay to be goofy, and Lucas shows appreciation for it. During the piano scene, Eliott looks at Lucas like water in the desert. And Lucas just blossoms as soon as he doesn’t have to bother with shallow, bullshit pretend relationships anymore. I don’t like the ‘we complete each other trope’ usually, but those two, they really do. They went on their own journey but it’s really like something wasn’t right with the universe until they got together. And look at how relieved they are to see each other again after being pulled apart. The minute by minute becomes that too in the end, as does the parallel universe metaphor - there could be so many ways and so much time for them to be apart, and they’re going to make damn sure they never have to be apart again. It’s fragile and it’s beautiful and it’s the most right thing ever. They just fit. 

The second one is...probably yearning, working along with the first one. They’re both just so needy. Eliott is in general ‘a lover of all things’ (like Maxence said) - and as shown through the Polaris video, he desperately wants a true soul connection, something that goes beyond appearances, beyond fears. He puts that film out in the world like a message in a bottle. He doesn’t get funding, but it does reach the one person it needed to. The story could be hella sappy and it would fit the whole artsy teenager with too many feelings thing, but it’s just so earnest. He’s terrified of ‘the dark’ (ie his issues with mental illness) and what it would do to people around him, and yet he’s still willing to take his deepest, most desperate desire and put it into the palm of the world. There’s something so brave about that. And Lucas ?  He starts out as disconnected and adrift, pretends to be tough and a player but scratch the surface even once and wow. The way he clings to his mask speaks of his fear of being left alone. And the way he just opens up to Eliott so fast - he’s been looking for that forever, really. Someone to really see him, and see that need. The way things went in his family probably hurt him so deeply because under his grumpy façade, Lucas strikes me as someone incredibly loyal and caring, and what his father did probably shook a lot of his core beliefs. Because of this and his internalized homophobia, he took on a ‘feelings make you weak’ demeanour. So it’s so important that him and Eliott made it through - it allows him to believe in love again, that he is worthy of being loved, it’s some deeply existential shit. (even though the part with his friends was also crucial.) And it’s why it never seems rushed that they move so quickly. It’s really like a spark comes and starts a wildfire in a few moments because everything was ready for it already. I would buy them moving in together, for real. Obviously they might have issues down the road because of this. Lucas’ abandonment issues and Eliott’s troubled self-image and issues linked to bipolar are not going to just vanish overnight. They just care and want this so much they might rush into things. But you really believe they’re going to pull through and spend the rest of their lives together, anyway. 

I’m also thinking of faith. That’s the whole point of the Remember montage. The beginning of their relationship is really messy. Eliott cheats on his gf and bails on him and sends him all sorts of mixed signals, Lucas says some really ignorant things about mental illness and pretends to be into girls and uses Chloé and says mean things about him to his friends. Lucas is forcibly outed, then there’s the whole houseboat which might have been very traumatic for the both of them - someone else in their shoes might have said, this is too much for me, and they might not have been entirely unjustified. I feel one important aspect of this pairing is that you’re never entirely sure they’re going to end up together. Sure, they’re perfect for each other, but their issues interact in ways that mean they’re uniquely suited to hurt each other as well. When you look at Lucas’ past, Eliott on paper really isn’t an ideal partner. Lucas too can be sharp and mean and reckless, or he can go overboard when he cares about something. They’re both very aware as it develops that this could end up being dangerous for them, that they could wreck each other. This version of the story just has so much more tension and uncertainty than the other remakes, for some reason - maybe because Lucas is more isolated, or Eliott is less cool on the surface than Even, or maybe it’s down to technical choices too. The amount of feelings between is overwhelming right from the start, it’s like, it could easily become too much. And then there’s the whole stigma from society thing. And of course, love, between anyone, remains one of the most terrifying things in life, because of the trust and openness and vulnerability it demands. So faith is important, because it implies making a bet that things will turn out alright in the end. It’s about compassion and moving on from the past but also learning from it. And choosing to put the positive possibilities above the negatives. They choose to have faith in themselves, too, when they choose the relationship. That they’re going to figure it out, be better at communicating. The church montage makes a lot of parallels between religious faith and love, as being a refuge in times of sorrow, something true and sure when everything is uncertain.  It should be the meaning of ‘christ-like’ love. And this is not about Lucas being some sort of savior figure for Eliott in spite of his ‘flaw’ - it’s for himself too, that compassion and that faith. That he can be better than his father. That he recognizes the faith Eliott put in him by telling him about Polaris - now he probably understand fully what it means, that Eliott was telling him he was stuck in that darkness too, that he gave Lucas this key because he had faith in Lucas’ capacity to love. It’s about people’s faith deserving to be rewarded in kind.  It’s so beautiful, I want to cry.

And last but not least - tenderness. If I had to pick only one, it would be this one. And it’s not (only) about them being so cuddly and prone to PDA as soon as they get together, it’s a much deeper thing. It’s like they look at each other and go ‘hello, your soul is beautiful and belongs with mine, let me make some room for you’. It’s in the way they approach each other - Lucas makes the first move, then Eliott shows his interest in a way that is ‘chelou’ enough to signal something more is going on - repeats his name only for him - but never pushy. It’s the entirety of the piano scene, and the way they keep unveiling little bits of who they truly are to each other - Eliott’s wacky music and moves are incredibly important for that, and so is Lucas’ playing - it’s them creating a space for each other saying, look you’re safe with me, I am weird and intense and passionate and artistic and I know you are too. It’s that conversation as they walk home, the carefully worded sentences where they’re pushing each other towards the conclusion of ‘not necessarily a girl’. And it’s of course the first kiss - Eliott pushing at Lucas enough to show him how much he cares and get past his walls, but letting him do the first move. And Lucas letting Eliott know he has seen Polaris. And obviously the entirety of Samedi 9 : 17. Lucas knowing what to say to reach Eliott, his emotional intelligence. Eliott’s little drawings, and his romantic gestures that show Lucas he deserves a grand love story. Lucas taking care of Eliott after his episode, the croissants and the flowers and the meals. The playfulness, the care, the attention. They want to help each other be as free and happy as they could be, they care so much about each other’s developpment ? The way they’re constantly checking in with each other - minute by minute, and the reciprocity of the bus stop scene - Eliott knowing how to use it to soothe Lucas’ fears as well, showing the truth of the concept that they both will have difficult moments. They’ve bruised each other’s hearts, it’s heavy, but they also handle it as a privilege - it’s so much better than not being in each other’s lives. When they’re together, it has the carefree vibe of young first love, joyful and clumsy and rowdy ; but you catch glimpses of them as old souls, too, with a maturity and selflessness and depth of love that is just awe inspiring. It’s love as sanctuary and refuge, and love that opens the doors to the world. 

I’m never going to be over it tbh. 

[haravikk]

Do We Need Mass Effect: Andromeda 2?

I know I’m late to the game, two years late in fact, but I speak now as someone who has just completed Mass Effect: Andromeda, and loved it, and wants more.

Mass Effect: Andromeda had a rocky start, with major issues on release, and even two years later many bugs and oddities remain unpatched. But considering the game more than covered its costs, and was still popular despite its problems, did it ever make sense to completely axe its promising DLC, and its sequel(s)?

Technical issues aside, the game is, in my opinion, among the most solid in the series. It has some great characters, easily the best combat of any Mass Effect game, a streamlined dialogue system with some hard choices to be made (and real impacts, both immediate and long term), and so it’s a real shame that such a solid base has had such a poor, and undeserved, reputation.

Yes it was broken on release, but I don’t blame BioWare for that, I blame EA.

For me, Mass Effect: Andromeda was everything I love about Mass Effect, but most crucially captured something that the first trilogy always toyed with but never really succeeded at; the sense of exploration. It was there in the Shepard trilogy, but always on the backdrop of a bigger, much more immediate threat, so ended up feeling out of place.

But in the Andromeda galaxy, exploration was not only the primary mission, but it was a necessity, as with so much unknown, you couldn’t just sit back and hope for the best. While the story had a big-bad, with threat of more to come, the more immediate threat was simple survival, requiring colonies and resources, and that was such a liberating feeling to finally explore. 

I loved flying through new systems, I loved exploring new worlds, and I loved roving around in the Nomad. The main problem was how to also make it exciting, and tell a gripping story, but while it had its faults, I felt Andromeda did a good job of it. Its main problem was the pacing of side-missions, many of which are sprung upon you in batches when you have more immediate concerns.

This a common problem with single-player RPGs, which could really do with taking a look at MMO’s, by having a clearly designed end-game. Give us a pressing concern, let us build up as much or as little as we want to in order to face it, then once we’ve prevailed, cut us loose to enjoy the aftermath (the lull in the conflict, the fresh discoveries etc.). Players who just wanted action can stop if they want, while those who want to explore can be rewarded with more to do.

Andromeda is a game that can be played in this way, but only by knowing in advance which quests you can safely ignore for later; more often than not, these are quests that shouldn’t be put in the player’s way to begin with, as they can easily wait until the “end”.

The worst thing for me about Mass Effect: Andromeda 2 being in limbo is the lack of conclusion for its DLC.

It isn’t much of a spoiler, but upon completion of the game there is an ominous signal pointing to trouble with the Quarian (and Drell, Volus, Hanar etc.) Ark.

What happened to it? Will we ever find out?

It was such a squandered opportunity, as no matter how rough Andromeda’s start was, a solid piece of real DLC, alongside additional fixes and patches, could have encouraged skeptics to buy Andromeda, or early adopters to give it a second chance. Good DLC has saved games before, and with Mass Effect being such a popular series, Andromeda deserved the chance.

But maybe there’s a future yet?

Maybe it’s just a pipe dream, maybe not, but I want to see a Mass Effect: Andromeda 2; not just because I’m curious about the lingering plot threads of the first part, but because it was a genuinely good game. While there are rumours that BioWare wants to revisit Mass Effect, these remain sketchy.

Mass Effect as a series has always felt unique to me, despite its clear influences, it captures sci-fi immersion in a way that no other games for me ever have, and Andromeda, in spite of its flaws, was a worthy addition, and can still serve as a great foundation. One that managed to cut ties with the messy Milky Way storyline and the frankly abysmal ending of ME3, while retaining everything I loved about the first two games.

For me, the hope is that BioWare will recognise they can’t just throw it all away, not when there are real fans of Andromeda, and its characters, and not when they could so easily win back the fans of the Shepard trilogy as well.

Releasing the Quarian Ark DLC, with fixes and patches to polish up the main game, could pick up the new trilogy and propel it forwards by encouraging people to give the game a second chance, or to try it for the first time, ready for a much delayed sequel to drop. With the Quarian Ark launching after the others, it could even serve as an opportunity to bring some surprises, like characters we feared were lost forever.

Like the Andromeda Initiative itself, BioWare needs to stick to its convictions, and not be tempted to go back. The key is in negotiating a sane deadline, and the freedom to push it back if you need to, as Mass Effect: Andromeda’s biggest failure, was being pushed out when it wasn’t ready.

And for I don’t blame BioWare for that, I blame EA.

[gaybluesargent]

i havent read the raven cycle books in a while and ive forgotten.. what is so bad about gansey's parents?

i’m sorry this took so long, anon!! i have… so very many thoughts about this. so. cracks my knuckles. Here We Go. an incomplete analysis of why gansey’s parents suck, under a readmore because it turned into a book report:  

they allowed gansey to travel the world entirely by himself at thirteen years old.

“Of all the places Gansey had attended boarding school — and he’d attended many in his four years of underage wandering…” - trb, ch12

gansey is seventeen, so four years of wandering puts him at thirteen. thirteen!! thirteen is not old enough to travel the world by yourself in even the best circumstances. and gansey was not in the best circumstances. which leads me to my next point:

they allowed gansey to travel the world entirely by himself while he was extremely unwell. 

by the time he met malory, he’d already been traveling for years, and this was the shape he was in:

“Got screaming nightmares over it — he had to get his own place, since I couldn’t sleep with it, as you might well imagine. Sometimes these fits would happen during the day, too. We’d just be toddling through some riding path in Leicestershire and next thing I knew he’d be on the ground clawing his face like a mental patient.” - bllb, ch30

his parents either didn’t notice this behavior or ignored it, because there is no way a boy this debilitated by his trauma and anxiety should be set free to roam the world with no support. and there was no support, because:

there were months (or more) where they had no idea where he was. 

“Just gone,” Malory said. “After that, his family called me sometimes, trying to find out where he’d gone.”

“His family?” She felt like she was being told a story about a different person.

“Yes, I told them what I could, of course. But I didn’t really know. It was Mexico before he came to me, then Iceland after, I think, before the States. I doubt I know the half of it still. He picked himself up and moved so easily, so quickly. He had done it so many times before England, Jane, and it was old hat to him.” - bllb, ch30

that means they kept in touch so little and gave him so much financial freedom that they couldn’t find out where in the whole world he had gone. yeah, like, gansey made the decision to go off the radar, but the fact that he, as a child, was able to go missing on this scale is extremely negligent of his parents. 

i think all of that is enough to find the ganseys shitty, but wait, there’s more! because there’s a whole emotional side to this that plays a big role in Who Gansey Is.

the ganseys are politicians. 

not just in their careers, but as people. they are concerned with Appearance more than anything else. 

there’s a lot in gansey’s introspection that gets into this — like, the entire concept of his President Cell Phone persona and the reoccurring theme of disconnect between how gansey feels and how he’s perceived — but i think this bit from trk is pretty telling: 

He remembered thinking that it would only ruin the party by reappearing covered with hornets. - trk ch53

you don’t think this way as a terrified child unless you’ve had guilt taught into you. unless your family has made it clear that your pain is less important than their convenience. 

and that crops up a lot with gansey. this idea of his feelings being inconvenient to those around him, and of his feelings being less important than everyone else’s. sure, it’s tied up in his privilege, but it’s also a classic symptom of the kind of repression and compartmentalization that comes from growing up in a family that doesn’t value your emotional wellbeing. 

and i think there’s a good example of that, after gansey misses the fundraiser:

I know you have your own life, his mother said to his voicemail. I was just hoping to be part of it for a few hours. 

[Helen’s] only text had come at the end of the night: I suppose the king will always win, won’t he? - trk, ch58

this is.. emotionally manipulative. maybe not intentionally, but it is. and gansey has lived his whole life like this — having things Expected of him and then being guilted when he can’t live up to it. and the running implication under it all is that he is Wrong for prioritizing the thing that matters most to him, which is doubly damaging since that thing is the obsessive pursuit of a resolution to his unbelievable and unacknowledged childhood trauma. trauma for which he has never gotten any help. that is all unforgivably isolating. 

and i think part of what makes this all so insidious is that it’s easy to miss. because it’s never rude, never mean, never outright. the ganseys don’t seem like an emotionally dysfunctional family. they don’t fight, they don’t yell, they don’t cry. they love each other, or they think they do. but that’s because of things like this:

And Dick Gansey II had let his son know that if he couldn’t hack it in a private school, Gansey was cut out of the will. 

He’d said it nicely, though, over a plate of fettuccine. - trb, ch12

and

Gansey despised raising his voice (in his head, his mother said, People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper)… - trb, ch38

they’re nice. they’re proper. but they’re definitely not good. they want gansey to be Perfect, which means ignoring all the parts of him that they find flawed and inconvenient. which means depriving him of emotional support and limiting their relationship with him to what is Expected and what is Useful. which means that, when he can’t meet those Expectations and Uses, he is a failure. 

and i think that leaves marks all over his character. you can see it in his desperation to mean something, to be worthy of being saved. in how he constantly represents himself in ways that conflict with his Richard Campbell Gansey The Thirdness (like the Pig, Monmouth, and his journal, all things that are broken and chaotic and messy). in his deep desire to be Known and Understood by the people around him. 

i don’t think gansey really understands the way his family has shaped these parts of his personality, so the narrative doesn’t really call explicit attention to it. but there are places where it’s clear how far away he feels from the very idea of his family: 

He was full of the restless, dissatisfied energy that always seemed to move into his heart after he visited home these days. It had something to do with the knowledge that his parents’ house wasn’t truly home anymore — if it had ever been — and something to do with the realization that they hadn’t changed; he had. - trb, ch33

they never made a spot for him in their home, or at least, not a spot where he was ever actually able to fit. so gansey left and found one for himself, in his friends and in henrietta and in glendower. 

there is So Much More — i could comb through the books and write a 500 page dissertation on this topic, lol — but i’m gonna leave it here. tldr, gansey’s parents are neglectful and emotionally isolating, and that has had a serious negative impact on how gansey conceptualizes himself.

[if you want More on the subject, i know kate @czarrish has lots of good posts like this one! & big thank you to @arielmagicesi​, @pnrrish, & @wishingstardust​ for helping me find various things for this Essay! i rly appreciate it!]

[startrekwintergiftexchange]

Je vous entends

🎉✨Happy Holidays everyone !✨🎉 This is my gift for @reflectingiridescent, for the @startreksecretsanta exchange of 2017. Had a hard time choosing which ship to do since I loved them all (you have good taste 👌), but I had to give in for Jean-Luc/Beverly/Jack because they make me weak. For a bit of timeline context, the story takes place in 2350, meaning Beverly just graduated from Starfleet Academy after getting married to Jack in 2348. Lastly, if you’re wondering about the title, “Je vous entends” means “I hear you” in French. Hope you’ll like it 😳🤞, and Happy New Year ❤️!

Author: @a-flower-crown-shark

For a Starfleet captain, concentration is primordial.

You always need to be at your best, mentally and physically. In space, a second of inattention can cost the life of your crew or compromise the security of the ship. You can be the cause of great, unfathomable damage.

That is why First Officer Jean-Luc Picard, of the Starship Stargazer, is always doing his very best to maintain his focus on every single thing happening around him. He may not hold the position of captain yet, but Starfleet Command has given him the rank, and acting as such seems necessary. And by all means, it does seem to be an excellent exercise for reflexes. There is however a small problem.

Will you stop, he grumbles in his head for the fifth time in the last hour. The voices ignore him, yet again. He lets out a small sigh and continues to work on the console with nimble fingers. A small surge occurred ten minutes ago in one of Engineering’s main conduits, making a few wounded, and though it was quickly put under control, he preferred verifying it, and verifying it himself. He’ll have to overcome his difficulty to delegate if he gets promoted to captain, but for now-

“Merde”, he mumbles when he accidentally hits the wrong button. The ensign next to him (a Vulcan, of course it had to be) hears him and turns around with a blank yet slightly worried expression, that only seems taunting at the moment.

“Sir ?”

“I’m fine, Ensign, thank you”, he smiles as he looks at the young man. “Just a bit of headache this morning”. Thankfully, the ensign does not insist, and they continue their work in silence.

///

As every other night as of the last few months, the walk back to his room is not an easy one; it seems like the voices take pleasure in getting louder when he gets ready to sleep, like they don’t want him to forget them. As if he could. He sits on his bed with discomfort, lets his head fall on the pillow, and grabs a pad by his nightstand, trying to decipher its content while a tambourine drums on his temples.

Ensign Warrick, Jules – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on legs, torso, and right arm – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for five days

Ah, the wounded of the power surge then. He tries to focus on the list, for the sake of the suffering crewman, but he can barely read the letters in front of his eyes.

Ensign M’lyoo, Kiku – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on arms, neck – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for three days

Ensign T’lennk En’tgai, Vorak – In Sickbay for severe plasma burns on legs – Status: Stable –Relieved of duty for three days

Lieutenant Crusher, Jack – In Sick Bay for light plasma burns on neck, torso, and left arms – Status: Stable – Relieved of duty for two days

Lieutenant Sevol-De La Cruz, Illyan – In Sick Bay for lig-

The pad falls on the bed, and he lets out a broken moan of pain.

They’ve been here for six months. Two voices, a woman and a man, speaking in Standard. At least he thinks they are: he has no idea what they’re saying. The voices are there, always, constantly under or over his own thoughts, and he distinguishes the fact that they are pronouncing words; but as soon as he tries to listen more closely to what exactly they’re saying, it all becomes a confused jumble.

When he first heard them, he put it under the stress he was under, only having recently been promoted to First Officer and overwhelmed with new duties. That peculiar day, the captain was receiving new crewmembers from a sister ship (a rumoured talented engineer, a security lieutenant, a science officer who specialized in novae, and a young command officer and his wife, a medical ensign who had recently graduated from the academy. He did not meet any of them, but he surely would do so later, when he’d have the time), and as such, was obligated to spend time with its captain to discuss details of the transfer. Meanwhile, he was in charge of a secret meeting with a Ferengi ship to share classified data, of a crucial maintenance exam at Starbase 35, of the proper delivery of a cure to a plagued colony planet … It seemed as if there was no end to the list of things he needed to do, and even with his natural calm, it definitely was tiring. He was very glad to go to sleep that night, and dozed off peacefully a soon as he laid himself on his bed.

And then, the two voices begun screaming.

He’d later recognize their high pitched tone to be less characteristic of fear than of unbelievable despair, though at the moment it only felt like pure, simple screaming. He held his head with two hands, trying to diminish the pain, without result. Needless to say, Jean-Luc didn’t get much sleep that night, nor the next, nor the nights of the week after. If the voices sometimes calmed down to only become a small mumble, they would very often jump back up at the most random moments, making him feel nauseous.

Of course, the data bank turned out empty. It was not a question of mental health, he was and is still certain of it; something about the voices seemed way too real, way too distinct for them to only be products of his mind. Jean-Luc Picard being Jean-Luc Picard, his next try was with alien cultures, for which he held enormous passion and respect: Many of them had such stories in their myths and legends, and there would surely be something worthy of note there. However, surprisingly, he found nothing of use, if not the knowledge that he may not have been the only individual to hear voices in his mind. Refusing to let himself be examined, as the “sickness” did not seem threatening to either him or others, he took the decision to continue living with the voices (Yes, he knew, he knew it was not the healthy thing to do, but something about the voices felt so profoundly private, so very personal, that he just couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the strange connexion he had with them, and if that was childish of him then damn it, he could not help being flawed and he could not help being human). Who are you?, he’d often ask in his mind. What do you want with me? What is causing you such sadness?. But the voices never answered. Are you seeking something?, he’d try again. Someone?. And still the voices would ignore him.

It actually was possible to live alongside them: The both could speak so low that he forgot their existence, and their constant hum became a sort of soothing song. I anything, they were friends of some sort. Bodiless, incomprehensible companions, but companions none the less, for which he somehow gained affection.

Except when they’re doing that, he thinks bitterly, as the voices yell their hearts out with abandon. He moves around his head for comfort, without success. Months ago, supporting them did not seem insurmountable. Lately however his stock of patience was running quite low, as, so very, very tired of hearing them, the voices were starting to interfere with his work.

Jean-Luc shuffled a bit in his bed, trying to chase away the thoughts that were slowly finding a way to his mind.

For a Starfleet captain, concentration is primordial.

In the messy covers, partially on the ground, Jean-Luc turns his head yet again, annoyed. “I can do this”, he murmurs out loud. “I just need to try a little harder. Just a little more.”

You always need to be at your best, mentally and physically.

He painfully opens his eyes, gazing at the crème celling.

In space, a second of inattention can cost the life of your crew or compromise the security of the ship.

He thinks of the Vulcan ensign, looking at him with worried eyes. The truth is the most painful when it’s staring at you like that, with the eyes of someone who can’t lie.

You can be the cause of great, unfathomable damage.

Tomorrow, he’ll go to Sickbay.

///

The walk to get there is the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

As soon as he left his room, the voices begun rising to impossible levels, and now they’ve reached a point that no word could possibly describe, only growing higher and higher as he limps in the corridors.

He thinks of himself in bar, surrounded by Nausicaans and falling to his knees, and laughing, laughing at the horrible feeling that propagates itself from his heart. He tries to tell himself that the pain he’s in now is much less greater, that he should be roaring of laughter now more than then. But he can’t even mutter the force to push anything other than small, desperate whining sounds, and deep down, he knows that the pain is worse.

People notice him, try to intervene, but a quick dismissing move of the hand keeps them in place. Somewhere in his mind, he feels them staring at him with evident worry. And though he’s too preoccupied with the deafening sounds to reassure them, he tries to stand a little bit straighter as he continues his route. He was never good at showing others his pain.

Ironically, as he slowly loses the ability to produce any human thought, a part of his brain, far, too far for him to register, realizes that the voices sole purpose was for him to follow them. That now, without realising it, he’s being guided by their sound towards an unknown force, an unknown power that he was destined to meet.

He keeps walking.

Finally, finally, he gets to Sickbay’s doors, and tears are strolling down his face. He’s practically crawling to get there, because he knows, feels the thing, the person behind the doors, and he needs them. He can’t take it, he can’t take it anymore, but he’s there and the doors are opening, but it’s too much, it’s too much, and he starts yelling in the middle of hell “Arrêtez, je vous en supplie! Je vous entends! Je vous entends! Je vou-”

It stops.

Everything is silence.

There’s nothing. Absolutly nothing.

Perhaps, a buzzing noise can be heard, somewhere, from the tools or the computers. Perhaps a light buzz of discussion can be heard, somewhere, from the medical staff in the room. Perhaps the fabric of space itself is making noise, somewhere, as the Stargazer slides upon it, but he can’t tell. Around him, it’s only silence. And it’s only them.

Tears are streaming down their faces too. He makes out every single darker strands in her red hair, every single crease of smile around his mouth.

They’re beautiful.

None of them dares to move, afraid of breaking the moment, this thing out of time and space, only for the three of them. Nothing else exists anymore. The man, who’s pale, slender neck is covered with bandages, is the first one the move, getting up from his biobed. Before he makes a step forward, Jean-Luc speaks without thinking, as a name he’s only read on reports before escapes his lips.

“Jack”

The world collapse. Jack runs towards him and both of them fall on the ground, wailing in abandon and gripping each other with desperation. Red marks of strong fingers start to appear on his body, and he only holds Jack tighter. He feels so alive.

A hesitant hand places itself on his shoulder. He looks up to find the blue watery eyes of the woman, looking unsure if she should interrupt. He detangles a hand from one of Jack’s and takes hers in his palm.

“Beverly”, he smiles.

A hiccupped “Jean-Luc” slips before she falls to her knees with a smile so bright he can’t take it, and joins their entanglement of limbs as it becomes impossible to see where one ends and one begins. Jack grins and starts laughing, and she does too, because Jean-Luc’s has never seen them once and they’ve been right there for months, because they don’t know him but they do, because thousands of questions are left unanswered. He starts laughing with them, because this is space, this is what he’s been dreaming of since a child, this great unknown that can never be truly understood and that sometimes does inexplicable things. And one day, he’ll be captain, ready to explore the galaxy at the helm of a ship, with two soulmates given by an incalculable amount of stars at his side. But for the moment, he holds their hands tight in the middle of Sickbay’s floor, surrounded by people who feel miles away from the three of them, and he replies to the voices in his mind and the two people they belonged to : “Je vous entends”.

[kiki-free917]

Faith Over Fear

As I walk through the halls of Westlake & start my senior year, I can’t help but think about all that the Lord has in store for my last year of high school. Every single one of us have a backpack. No matter what the weight is, it can still be extremely difficult to carry on our own. Jesus does that for us! I’m extremely quick to forget that because *NEWS FLASH* I’m imperfect!!!!!!!! We all are! We live in a broken world & won’t taste complete perfection until Heaven – Joy is promised & is coming!!!

Aside from that, various lies & fears race through my mind on the daily but even then the Lord picks me up, pulls me close, & desires to do life with me. Even then there’s a still, small voice that locks eyes with me & calls me His. Loved. Cherished. Precious. Enough. Worthy. Known. Strong. Sought after. His. Free. Understood. Capable. & SO MUCH MORE – He blows my mind!!!!!!!!! Oh how He longs for me & the rest of His children to see ourselves through His eyes & chase after Him with all we’ve got.

A lot of times I find myself holding myself to high & unrealistic expectations, flipping a switch, putting on a mask, & becoming the energizer bunny – performing, pretending, & putting on a fake-front in order to be loved, liked, noticed, & accepted by others. But guess what?!? I already am!!! & even then, I still find myself searching for my value & identity in every little place I can, consistently leaving myself to overthink & continue to be empty & unsatisfied. I allow the dots & stars to stick. I start running the “Kai-show” & get so self-consumed to the point where the only thing I care about is myself & my life, problems, needs, wants, dreams, goals, desires, plans, etc. This year, I’m longing for that all to change & to find peace in the plan & purpose He has set before me.

Senior year…the year to finally let go, fully surrender, & jump out of the boat. I have nothing to lose!!!!!!!!! My life is His!!! I want to make Jesus’ name famous far above mine. I want people to know me, the REAL me – the messy parts I’m not proud of, the parts that Jesus is & never stops working on, & the story that He continues to write out daily. I want my heart to be on fire for Jesus & yearn for more of Him. I want to trust the Lord’s plan far above mine. I want to stop critiquing myself & being a hypocrite of others. I want to stake my comfort, confidence, & identity in Him & Him alone. I want what Jesus says to sink down from my head to my heart. I want to take the blinders off, step out of my own world, & put Jesus & others before myself. I want my soul to sing praises of gratefulness regardless of the circumstance. I want to be inclusive & make people feel loved & known & special. I want to be all in & quit dipping my toe in the water. I want for Jesus to be my audience & for Him to smile BIG instead of vying for man’s attention. I want to stop living a double life & be the Kai who Jesus wants me to be with everyone I’m with. I want to appreciate the good, bad, hard, & everything in between. I want to keep my feet on the ground & heart in the right place. I want people to know my story, but even more so I want to make the greatest Love Story of all time known loud & clear. I want to stop letting the Enemy get the best of me. I want to know God like He knows me. I want to stop trying to fix, change, & wish away my circumstances & accept the obstacles with joy. I want to allow Jesus to bare my burdens with me instead of trying to tackle them on my own & pretend like I have all the answers & life figured out. I want people to know that they’re not alone & that there’s Someone who cares deeply about them. I want to stop raking for leaves & go digging for Gold. I want to stop keeping score & a record of imperfections, flaws, & insecurities. I want to take Jesus out of the box I’ve put Him in & remember that He’s working for my good & His glory. I want to stop being the queen of doubt, playing the blame game, & “why me?” card. I want to stop expecting Jesus to be a feeling & trust that He knows exactly what He’s doing. I want to respond to every situation in a way that Jesus would. I want to glorify the Lord in everything I think, say, & do. I want to hunt for company in Jesus & nothing else. I want to run the race with endurance & fix my eyes on Jesus. I want to face life head on instead of turning away. I want to quit cowering & wallowing. I want to stop caring what others think & only care about what Jesus thinks. I want to stop pointing fingers & focus on what Jesus wants me to fix. I want to be satisfied in all that the Lord says about me & has provided me with. I want to start every day with a thankful heart. I want to give the glory up to the One who gave it all so that we could be made new in Him. I want to be faithful & humble in my pursuit of people & Jesus. I want to choose joy & Jesus no matter what’s thrown my way. I want to give Jesus the opportunity to continue to show me the places He wants me to be free. I want to allow Him to cleanse me of the parts that don’t bring Him glory. I want my heart to be filled with love, grace, compassion, & kindness. I want to be bold & brave & step outside my comfort zone even when it’s scary. I want to love & honor my family in a way that brings the Lord glory. I want to love others like the Big Man would even when it’s hard. I want to put on the full armor of God & fight my battles with Truth. I want for it to be well with my soul. I want to be confident in who I am & Whose I am. I want to be slow to speak & have the last word & quick to listen. I want to stop making all the excuses I can think of & saying “but _____” & just do the dang thing. I want to live my life to the full & cling to what is True. I want to be okay with struggling, falling, & failing, & count my victories – all of this is a learning process! I want to be present, in the moment, & think about how I can benefit the Kingdom instead of Kai. I want to stop leaning on my own understanding & climb the mountain with my hands wide open saying “this life is Yours & not my own Jesus. Use me!” I want to be a light in the darkness & make a difference!!!!!!!!!!

It’s up to me to change & put my goals in action. I have a choice: to let fears & lies hinder me OR put faith over fear. This year could be it!!! The year I FINALLY (!!!) quit doubting & waiting for the Big Man to be ready when in reality, He’s been patiently waiting for me this whole time. The year I drop my pride, put my old-self aside, & walk in the freedom of who the Lord longs for me to be. The year I fulfill the Lord’s will & allow Jesus’ thoughts to cover me. The year I allow Him to strip me of sin & shame & wear my new-self like an outfit. The year I’m filled with Jesus’ joy, peace, radiance! What am I waiting for?!? Jesus has already given me everything I need!!! The year has already begun & I’m ready to run hard & fast after the Promise-Maker & Promise-Keeper. It’s time for my trust to be without borders, walk wherever He calls me, & follow in the footsteps of our Creator. You & me, Daddy – thanks for doing life alongside me!!!!!!!!!

[lovethehurt-blog1]

It’s okay.

My father always told me “let them fall for you”. 

You don't realize the things that people tell you until it’s too late, but was it too late? This is where I am lost. My thoughts consume me. The negative feelings start to eat me alive. I bet you are lost since you have no idea what I am trying to get at. I’ll give you a back story.

A relationship for four years. Four years of growing with another person. I know some of you reading this right now are probably like “it was four years, get over it!” well I am trying....a reason why I decided to write my feelings out instead of bottling them inside. The break up was over two months ago. Im healing. You realize a lot when you're out of a relationship. I am not going to sit here and write out every little flaw that the relationship had. I am going to write about how a person can love you and hurt you so badly at the same time. I loved him. I did everything for him. Everyone knew that I was the one that went out of my way in the relationship. I did not mind being the dominator most times, but towards the end I started to see things differently. When you start to feel not wanted or that you're a bother to someone that’s a huge problem. I started feeling that way, but I kept trying to brush it off. Brushing it off only does so much, so one day I decided to say something.

“Hey, it would be nice if you told me you missed me or something!” (We went to different universities) 

His response: “Well, I don't miss you.”

Those words will always stick with me. How can it be that I miss you so much and want to be with you whenever I can, but you don't feel that way towards me? What did I do for you to not miss me? Then why the fuck do I miss you? A  piece of my heart broke. I loved him. Most times, when you love someone you become blind to all their red flags. I made up excuses as to why he didn't miss me. Excuses like “oh well probably cause he just saw me a week ago” or “i’m only two hours away.” I tried so hard to push past that. It worked for about a week. This is where things get messy. He started hanging more and more with this girl. I did not have anything against the girl at all. He was that type of boyfriend that never wanted me around his friends. I understood in the sense of he wants his friend time and then our time. That didn't bother me. What did bother me was that I would always have to push myself to want to hang with him and his friends. For example, if they were going to go sledding he would tell me all about it and then go with his friends. I’d ask if I could join and he would say “you nd I will just go!” I’d accept it. FYI, we never went sledding. Anyways, I did not really know the girl. I should probably mention that we were two hours away from each other. I was away at school and he was back in our hometown.  I was going through a hard time with myself. I enrolled my self in therapy because I hit rock bottom. So the time that he started hanging out with this girl I became sensitive. He would not visit me on the weekends because he was too busy with school. I totally get it. School comes first. It started bothering me that he would tell me that this girl was coming over to his house at 12am to watch a movie. He was giving another girl all his attention. I felt invisible. I was going through such a hard time and I felt like I had no one. I had my friends and family, but I wanted him by my side. He wasn’t. He would say he was, but actions speak so much louder than words. fuck. When they started becoming good friends the relationship ended about a month later. She came to his house one night with alcohol and they “watched movies”. To this day I have no idea what went on. All I know is that’s not right. You don't do that type of shit when you're in a relationship. The girl is still in a relationship, not sure how her boyfriend is okay with her doing all of those“fun” acitivities. 

Him and I go on vacation a couple of days later. I had the best time of my life. I’d never imagine myself climbing waterfalls, hiking a rainforest, and enjoying life with someone else. I thought he felt the same. He acted like it. When we got back. The day we got back from vacation we broke up. He broke up with me. Broke up with me because he wasn't ready for a relationship. It took him four years to realize he was not ready. I tried to understand and empathaized. I really trusted him when he told me that he needs to better himself. He told me he was not happy with his life at the moment, and he needed to figure himself out. I was so hurt. I could not eat for a whole week. My heart was ripped out of my chest. This is where that saying “you think you know someone, but you don't” comes into play. Turns out for four years he's been talking bad about me to all his friends. His friends came to me...even that girl! and told me everything that he has ever said about me. How do you do that to someone? How do you make someone feel so special one min, but the next you’re telling people how big of an annoyance i am. How do you do that. You don't do that. There is more to the story, but in conclusion...hurt people, hurt people.

For a long time, I have always felt like a piece of shit. I was not good enough, pretty enough, or even worthy enough for him. I busted my ass with everything I did. All I got in return was a broken heart. 

Fuck it. It’s okay. 

In these past two months I bloomed into someone and something that I never knew I was. I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am not a piece of shit. If someone ever in the slightest bit makes you feel off or uneasy, leave. Do not be around people who exude negative energy. If you see ONE red flag, leave. That one red flag is just a foreshadow of what can or will happen in the future. I know that life is about taking risk because the reward can be great. But why take a risk with something that you already feel or know won’t be rewarding? When we are in love we become blind. Blind with everything. We try to rationalize the behavior. We try to make excuses for the behavior. We try everything. I tried everything. We can not make a person fall in love with us. We can not make a person stop what they want to do. We can not do that. What we can do is focus on ourself. Start realizing that you are fucking worthy of happiness. If you have to fight so hard for someones attention or to even feel liked or love....thats a huge red flag right there. If that person is not making you feel like you are the world, leave. Life is so short. There is no time to be in a relationship or friendship with someone that only drives on a one way street. You deserve someone who is crazy about you. They want to bring you around their friends. They know that there are compromises and they accept it. There is someone out there that will love you for you. Let them fall for you. It is your turn to sit back, relax, and watch how life will unfold. 

I see things differently now. I do not know if anyone will read this, nor do I care.  I just want you to know. You matter. You are beautiful. You are wonderful. You are a light at the end of a dark tunnel. You are worth it. 

Life is tough, but so are you.