#these bitches have no respect or regard for boundaries anyway so i’m not going to bother putting this in my header bc i know it’d do no good

[fingertipsmp3]

Do I have to add ‘thinspo blogs dni’ to my header now. Is that something I have to do

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 8

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Content warnings: death mention, possible minor body horror with regards to injury

It had been a fortnight since Andariel. Morgan was adjusting to his new reality, one where speaking much louder than a whisper for more than a few sentences made it feel like he'd been screaming his throat raw. Where pain was out of proportion to the damage that caused it. Where his left arm was all but useless. Although he felt well enough to get up and move around, the wound on his arm showed no signs of closing. An inky colouration had spread out from the puncture, extending up above his elbow and down to his wrist. It turned his stomach to look at it. Any remaining strength in the limb was negated by the pain that shot through it at the slightest jostle or pull. Akara's expertise in the healing arts was not sufficient to handle a wound like this, caused by a demon queen and determined to linger. She had offered her sympathies and a supply of bandages, which at least allowed him to bind the damned thing so he didn't have to see it. His own limited knowledge of medicine did not extend to this manner of injury either, so simply keeping it covered and clean seemed like the best option available.

Morgan had been spending most of his time and energy on meditation and geomancy. Physical pursuits were not very attractive at the moment, so instead he focused on improving his magic. He would need it more than ever now, given the state of his arm. Eventually he would return to the graveyard he'd marked, to check on the restless spirits there, but he wasn't yet well enough for that journey.

The ground around the encampment was largely untended, but the soil was good. Morgan had been using it to flex his magical abilities cautiously, not wanting them to suffer from disuse. He turned small patches at a time, shuffling the richer earth up toward the surface bit by bit, until eventually there was a respectable area prepared. Nobody had asked him to install a garden, but it felt like it might be a useful contribution. It also helped to ground him. He had often tended the gardens back home, and found now that he was missing that work.

Short forays into the surrounding fields were still within the scope of Morgan's ability. Over the course of about a week, he'd managed to successfully transplant a reasonable variety of usable plants. Comfrey, feverfew, yarrow, and chamomile had all been easy enough to spot, and each had at least one medicinal use. They also had the benefit of being reasonably hardy, taking root well in the freshly turned earth. He had also experimented a little with some preparations of other plants he'd found - an outcrop of sway grass by a small lake, some sage nestled in among a patch of bright trefoil, a little bark from the willow just outside the encampment - but despite following standard procedures for preparation, none of the resultant concoctions did anything to relieve the pain of his injury. He took some fruits from what looked like an oleaster, intending to dry them for another attempt in the future, but he kept his expectations low. If the wound wasn't going to heal properly, it stood to reason that the other effects would also linger.

Cain had been good company, stopping by often. He inquired about the garden as it was talking shape and seemed legitimately interested in the various applications of the plants filling it. Morgan took care not to speak at too much length on any one topic, endlessly interesting though they were. Equally fascinating were the tales Cain had to share in exchange. The story of Tristram had been a sobering one, between the king's corruption by Diablo and the destruction it had wrought. And it seemed that it was not yet concluded, given the hero-turned-dark-wanderer who had fled. It would be worth pursuing that tale to its conclusion; Morgan's original request had been duly fulfilled, but the evident threat to the Balance was more pressing than returning to the Necropolis.

He'd also been alternating between meditating on ways to improve his clay golems and creating small versions to test the changes he'd thought of. So far he had come up with a lot of failed designs, going too far to the extremes to test the boundaries. A build with above average mobility that would crumble in combat, a strong and sturdy make that could absorb a great deal of punishment but would be too slow to hit anything that wasn't standing still. Now it was time to rein it in, to tinker with proportions and the flow of magic through the construct until something better emerged. Morgan slipped easily into the in-between state, retreating into his mind while his body rested in a comfortable cross-legged position. A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree he was leaning against. Today would be good for focusing on the smaller details. He lost himself for a time in the contemplation of his designs.

A crawling, prickling discomfort pulled him back into reality. The sun was getting low in the sky. Someone had put their hand on his shoulder, and they were speaking to him.

"- word I've said, have you?" It was Blaise, looking annoyed.

Morgan shifted away from her, and she let her hand fall. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't hear you. I was meditating." The rough sound of his voice was another thing he was still getting used to. He rubbed his throat gingerly. Should have thought to keep some water nearby.

"Of course you were. I said, I talked to Kashya and she's agreed to give you some training. If you're going to keep fighting monsters and demons, you'll need some help. With your swordplay. It's not very good."

She was right, of course. Now that he could no longer hold a shield, his sword would have to be defensive as well - and magic had always been his strength, not actual physical strength or coordination. He'd been planning to refocus himself entirely on the magical side of things, but this was undeniably a good idea even if he didn't relish the prospect of physical training. Any formal instruction in the use of a sword would be useful.

"When?"

"You're welcome. Whenever you're ready. As soon as tomorrow." Instead of turning to go, she sat next to him. He expected her to keep talking, but she didn't. Maybe she was working up to something. The silence stretched uncomfortably. She didn't like him, she'd often said as much - so why was she staying so near? He'd been doing his best to be avoidable, true to his word. She hadn't been taking advantage of it, instead crossing his path at least once a day. Probably some sort of sense of obligation. The Sisterhood had been treating him with a cautious, grudging respect since Andariel's defeat. It was... strange.

That reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any, so he turned to study her. "Blaise. Why did you tell everyone I killed Andariel?"

She startled visibly and raised a hand to shush him. "What the hell, Morgan," she hissed, "you can't just say-" she cut herself off, looking around furtively. Apparently satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping, she continued in hushed tones. "Look, if Akara and Kashya knew I killed that big ugly bitch, they'd never let me get away from this backwater. It's different for you. They're expecting you to go. And when you leave, I'm going with you. At least until I'm well away from here. This place... I'm not really cut out to be part of something like this."

"Ah." That explanation made enough sense. He hadn't realized she wanted to leave, but then he often didn't realize things about other people. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted her loyalty as fondness. There wasn't always a correlation there. She hadn't exactly been talkative during their time together - not to him, not about personal wishes and desires. It also explained the closeness; by spending time around him, she was putting on a front, laying the groundwork that would justify her departure. Satisfied, he turned away to look at the sky. It was starting to be tinged with pink, and it was lovely to see.

"How do you do it?" Now it was her turn to scrutinize him. She was staring intently at his face as though it was going to hold anything other than confusion. Do what? Had he slipped back into his thoughts and missed part of the conversation? "I mean, doesn't it bother you?" That clarified nothing. He stared blankly, and she huffed. "People don't like you. As a necromancer. I mean, we didn't exactly give you a warm welcome. But there's no way it's just us. Your kind are... well, hated."

Oh, that. It was just a fact. He'd come to accept it easily enough. People didn't usually take kindly to him even before they knew his particular area of specialization. He shrugged, wondering idly what had lead to the question. She didn't seem to like that response.

"It's normal," he offered.

"It's not normal! How could you think that's normal? How do you... live with it?" She gesticulated, as though the waving of her hands might clarify her meaning. It did not. How else would he live? He took a moment to search for the words to frame it.

"As followers of Rathma, we are driven by pursuit of the Balance. What others think of us is not important."

"Not im- Morgan, of course it's important! The way people treat you matters. You have to rely on other people all the time."

"I try not to."

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose as though the conversation was giving her a headache. "Yeah, I know you do. But sometimes you don't have a choice. Like - there's no way you could have gone up against Andariel alone, she would have killed you in a second."

"Mm." While certainly true, it didn't change much. Alone, he would have been more cautious, planned better. Probably died anyway. Others would have come to take his place. His individual life only held value in the contribution it could make toward the Balance. Death came inevitably to all things; to die in service was at least honourable.

Blaise seemed agitated. "I don't think you understand - this is life and death stuff. For fuck's sake, you nearly did die! When-" she lowered her voice, which had risen in frustration. It shook a little. "When I brought you to Akara, she argued with me. She didn't want to waste her supplies on you. She was just going to let you die on her doorstep, because she doesn't like you. That's not normal. You can't just think that's okay."

It certainly wasn't extraordinary. That was why necromancers generally brewed their own potions, not that he'd had either the time or the forethought to reach for his own during the encounter. He started to shrug again. Akara had been pleasant enough since - oh. All the pieces came together suddenly, but the picture they formed didn't quite make sense. Blaise had lied to save him. She'd decided, probably on an impulse, out of desperation, to frame him as the hero because the healer wasn't going to touch him otherwise. She had wanted him to live, and had sacrificed her own part in the story to ensure his survival.

Of course, that type of instinctively selfless behaviour was part of the reason he'd decided she was a genuinely good person. But having that kindness extended to him - that was new. He didn't quite know what to make of it. People weren't kind to him, as a rule. That was familiar, at least, predictable. It didn't feel like he'd done anything to earn this special treatment. He'd have to tread carefully.

"It's what I'm used to," he said quietly. "Death comes to all things. We do not expect others to delay it for us. But you... are extraordinary." It didn't really feel adequate, but he would need some time to process this new information, and the moment would be long past by then. "Thank you," he added. That also felt shallow. He had no reference to draw from - what was the appropriate way to convey this tangle of feelings? Indebtedness, surprise, gratitude, admiration, and those were just the aspects he had names for. He purposely held her gaze for a moment, hoping she would be able to glean something from that since his words weren't doing the job.

Blaise opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Instead, she stood and stretched. "I bet you haven't even eaten today. Come on, Charsi made these beautiful rabbit pies. You have to try them." She extended her hand toward him. He didn't especially want to join a communal meal, but it would be rude to refuse such a rare offer. And he had, in fact, neglected to eat. He took her hand to pull himself up. Tomorrow he would attempt to train with Kashya, but right now he wouldn't worry about it.

[fishfem]

(I mention sex and anal here please delete if it makes you uncomfortable I’m sorry)

My boyfriend and I are long distance as of rn (four years as of a few months ago!) so we spend a lot of time playing games together and oh my god. I might peak because of him. I’ve literally asked him hey please don’t do this it makes me uncomfortable and frustrates me and he just does it anyway and says “it’s a joke so it’s not a big deal”. Recently I’m starting to realize he might be a horrible guy. I hate the idea of anal. I’ve been convinced by men to use plugs(when I was a minor) and it just hurt and scared me. My boyfriend knows this and still kept brushing it off as “nah we’ll see”. In context to me saying no or I’m uncomfortable and eventually sometimes I think I really want it, but I really just want to make sure he’s happy. I keep telling him now I don’t want it and all he does is say “nah” to me saying no. All he does is joke around and never acts serious when I have issues like him calling me a bitch and a cunt as a joke and when I say hey please stop he just says he does it with everyone. Hell he even praises his friends when they do basic shit like get 2 kills in a game but when I get 5+ he just gets annoyed if we lose or I don’t do something his way. I don’t think he’s sexist i just think he’s a dick who doesn’t care if he doesn’t think it matters. He’s like this with a lot of other people but sexually he’s been really bad to me. I’d go on but I’m already being rude by complaining in your asks and I’m sorry again

Anon you are absolutely not rude, and you're not complaining, these are extremely legitimate greivances and several are MAJOR red flags.

The biggest and most worrying thing is his complete refusal of your autonomy especially regarding your body.

It is a good thing you are long distance, because his attitude speaks for itself: he does not care if you don't want to do something.

He views your No to anal as a maybe, which really just means a "he'll just have to convince you."

This could be about not wanting to take off your socks during sex and it'd be wrong, but the fact that he's acting like this around anal is EXTREMELY worrying. You've said yourself that it hurt and scared you— and that's completely normal. The female body has no incentives to enjoy anal sex. It's risky and often done by men who simply do not care about the women they're doing it to— and it sounds like your boyfriend falls in this category.

He has no respect you. He knows bitch, ans especially cunt, are slurs. He knows it makes you upset. He either doesn't care or actively enjoys that it upseta you. If he loved you, he would not call you these things.

It also sounds like he just frankly doesn't value you at all, regarding your video game anecdote.

I know it can suck to hear, but he's not just a dick, he IS a sexist, and a dangerous one.

You deserve to have sex you enjoy. You deserve a partner who listens to you and considers your feelings. You deserve a partner who values your success and skill.

I know it is hard, especially given you've been together for four years, but especially given the complete lack of acknowledgement of your sexual boundaries— I beg you, anon. Get out. He is not good for you. He is not safe for you. He does not care for you.

I know, reading this, you may find yourself reacting harshly to the idea that he's as bad as I' saying, but I hope in sending this to my inbox, it means you are maybe thinking these things yourself, and just need someone else to recognize them too.

I really hope you get out and away from him and flourish. You are not rude or complaining or taking up space by needing to talk about this. This is important because you are important. Don't let him, or any man like him,convince you and treat you as if you aren't.

[lady-lauren]

AHHH Lauren! Thank u for hosting matchups, it’s so nice of u to do something for us!!! Congratulations on 1k, you deserve it and THOUSANDS, MILLIONS MORE!

I was wondering if I could have a matchup for a BNHA boy if u have time??? I’m a 20 y/o woman (girl? Lol) and am a cancer sun and Aquarius moon…

I’d have to say my favorite colors are pale pink and mint green… and I don’t really have any kinks because I’m honestly kinda touch adverse AND shy (anti-cuddling basically)… tho definitely on more on the subby side just because I really hate decision making and will honestly go w/ whatever my partner wants (tho I do enjoy spitting and cock slapping and stuff like that EEE LMFAOOOO)…

(I also love being the couple who no one knows is dating hehehe)

Let’s see.. my favorite things about my body are my freckles (which are everywhere) and my super small waist!! I’m not exactly skinny bc I have a little chub on the side… but as my friends say… I am fucking SNATCHED. Like Coke bottle up in this bitch. Lichrally. Even if I only really wear hoodies… it’s like a reward.

Anyway… some other stuff about me: my love languages are acts of service and gifts, I am studying to be a teacher, and I consider myself to be a really good friend! I absolutely love laughing and finding joy in everything, even if some people say I seem a little two faced due to the fact that in private I’m definitely more honest + open about my opinions than not (and I love gossip)… to which I say:😜🙈

Dunno! But I hope this isn’t too much information for u, and if it is… no pressure to respond at all!!! I don’t mind a lil NSFW in the answer either, but U don’t have to crazy or anything. Just whatever u think is good. Again tho, congrats!!!!!!!!! I absolutely adore your writing❤️‍🔥

Omg this is not too much information I love it all!!

Sooo I'm thinking a good match for you is: Shouto Todoroki 🥰

I picked him for you for multiple reasons, but mainly because I think he would be very, very understanding of your boundaries regarding touch. He's incredibly keen and kind, so he would be very respectful of how shy and touch-adverse you are. And I think he would step up to the plate on decision making, too.

And being a secret couple? That's right up his alley. The less he has to explain to anyone (especially his family), the better. He likes his privacy and he considers himself very lucky to have you to himself, away from prying eyes. Plus I think he might get a little kick out of how people would be so curious who you would be with, and low and behold it's him taking care of you when no one is watching.

I think you'd be a bright light for him, too. Mans can be a little stoic sometimes, so having you laughing and finding joy in the world around you would encourage him to see the bright side of things more often, appreciate the little things. Also I think his love language is words of affirmation, so yours being gift giving and acts of service would pair so nicely because you would always be validated on the love you show him. Plus, I think him receiving gifts is something he would consider like the nicest thing. Sure he has the funds to get whatever he wants, but you picking out something special for him would have him over the moon in his feels.

Plus, once you get comfortable with him and he gets to see the more honest side of you, he would really appreciate it. He's as blunt as they come sometimes so your honest opinions would enthuse him.

And in the bedroom I think he would give you literally anything you wanted. Want him to spit on you? You got it. Slap you with his cock and make you beg for it? Sign him up. I see him as more dominant in that area so I think that will fit your subby side just perfectly.

Song: dont ask dont tell by Tove Lo

[guzma-reader-hell]

might I request some nice Guzma/Trans Man reader? Maybe him being supportive in a dysphoric time? Also, love your work! I've already binge read most of your posts, you are a wonderful writer!

Thank you so very much sweetheart! I hope I did this justice!

...

“Dude, and you know what’s fucking dumb? I know he’s doing it on purpose. He legit will be a passive aggressive cunt and deadname me when we go out, and...”

You pause, taking a bite out of the sub sandwich you and Guzma are currently worrying between the two of you.

“And do NOT get me fucking started on this last Christmas when he bought me a fucking pair of PANTIES for our secret Santa.”

Your face is boiling red. Guzma is dead quiet. All he can do is watch your animated conversation, sweeping your sub dangerously back and forth as you continue to vent out the bullshit that goes on between you and your father. It’s a bullshit situation. Financially you’re dependent on him, no Pokemon to speak of. Otherwise you would have taken off to a whole other region a long time ago. Guzma is your only outlet. You’re highly aware the gangbanger thing doesn’t exactly help trying to come into your own either, because now everyone (due to your father) is convinced you’re going through a fucking “tom boy” stage hanging around the Island’s local troublemakers, and it boils your blood that no one will take you seriously.

So far Guzma has been silent regarding the issue. Respectful of your relationship boundaries and not wanting to let his anger get the best of him and ruin your chances of sleeping in a warm house and eating hot food.

But now that he hears this... He’s unsure that he should let this continue any longer.

“-I’m so sick of this shit babe.” you worry a stray piece of fabric hanging from your board shorts. “I’m really fucking sick of having to hear from these fossilized old fucks that who I am is a lie. Fuck them hoes! What the fuck do they even know about me? They don’t know shit. I’m about ten seconds from going up to that son of a bitch and pushing him onto his Nidoran-...”

“Ya ain’t going back there no more.”

His words stop you mid sentence. You look up at him. His face is dark, almost gray, with how he shows his anger you know that he’s only two more words away from flipping this table over and going to make a kill. He pushes aside the food and takes your hands in his, the callouses squeezing against your skin and grounding you back into reality.

“Guzma...” you start, “We talked about this...”

Many times in fact. You can’t just pick up and leave. It’s not that easy. Excuse after excuse after excuse...

“And I’m telling ya now that I don’t give a fuck about you not having a Pokemon to protect ya.” he growls. “I’m done. I’m fuckin’ done with this bullshit and I ain’t gonna sit here and let ya take it no more. Yer coming home with me, even if I have to drag ya kicking and screaming.”

Something in his eyes, his conviction, it doesn’t worry you like it normally does. Now, as you’re still fueled by the fire of the audacity of that bitch of a father you have, you feel as though after years of this crap, you’ll finally be able to have a voice.

Using your anger as a motivator is so much more preferable to letting your dad get poisoned by a nidoran anyways.

[youre-in-the-jungle-baby]

Tommy/Nikki

It wasn’t Nikki’s job to clean puke off the dashboard of the car. Especially if it wasn’t his own, regardless of whether or not it was his best friends. Because you’re supposed to have boundaries, and he was calling this one right here and he was sticking to it. He could do that if he wanted.

It wasn’t like he didn’t feel bad for Tommy, if it was a night where it was bad enough to send his body on the path of expelling the alcohol as opposed to sucking it up and hammering through it like most nights, he could only imagine what Tommy must be feeling. Or how many shots he'd done to get him there. Then again, Tommy probably wasn’t feeling anything besides vaguely nauseous and dizzy at this point. That didn’t mean he felt bad enough to clean up his mess just yet.

Tommy’s shoulders tense for the second time that night, and Nikki’s brain is sent into a flurry of figuring out how to open the passenger door from the driver's side seat and then how to get the seatbelt off of the man in the seat before shoving him out of the car. He curses under his breath and resigns himself to letting it happen. The damage had already been done for the most part.

“Nikki-” the tone reminds him of the sound that the old calico cat he'd had when he was little had made before it threw up. Except at least with a cat there was usually time to scoop it up and deposit it solidly outside and skip over a mess on the carpet much like the mess that had spread to the floor of the car now.

He’s sure that the last of Tommy’s dignity had gone with it when he sits back in the seat with a heavy sigh and a blank look on his face. Taking his hand off of where it had been gripping the wheel, even though the car had been parked outside the apartment complex for the past fifteen minutes, Nikki stares intently at the street light in front of them. It’s late, pushing two in the morning and he’s wide awake and he knows that if he went home right now, clean car or not, he wouldn’t be falling back asleep.

“Sorry ‘bout your car,” Tommy says, or at least that’s what he hears. It’s hard to tell right now. This is why he’d never liked being the designated driver, too much to worry about when you’re the only sober one and suddenly you have to deal with someone else's drunk bullshit instead of dishing it out and enjoying yourself. But he’d sucked it up for Tommy and picked up the phone when he’d called still half sober to invite Nikki to the bar he was currently at (or perhaps listening to Vince whine the entire night since he was still moping around from a bad cold and sore throat that he hadn’t managed to give Nikki; had seemed even less appealing).

‘Invite’ was the nice way of putting it, it had been a declaration followed up by a stream of bitching until Nikki felt his hackles rise and he’d hung up and ignored the next dozen text messages and two missed calls. He’d picked up on the third call, tired and slightly guilty after listening to his phone buzz incessantly on the coffee table while he tried to tune it out with even louder music.

And of course, it wasn’t a fun Friday night out, it was shaping up to be more of a hard binge with no regard to how he’d feel once he woke up. Which seemed odd, Tommy usually drank and forgot things as a byproduct, rarely would he drink with the intent of forgetting. Not that it was worrying Nikki, because if he worries about it he’s going to be obligated to have to acknowledge someone's feelings. And drunk or not he did not need to dig into Tommy’s. In fact, he’d do his best to avoid that when Tommy was sober too. That sort of relationship had worked well like that for as long as he cared to remember, you blew off steam fighting with strangers and then bottled up the rest, no need to bother each other with the details.

As if reading his thoughts and deciding to make him more miserable, Tommy breaks the silence, “She doesn’t- Nikki she doesn’t,” he pauses like he’s searching slowly through his own mixed-up thoughts for the word, “Like me. She doesn’t like me anymore.”

Nikki doesn’t let his focus deviate from the street light, praying for the first time since he’d gotten thrown out on his ass for the first time by his own mother, that there’s some higher power listening. And if that higher power can’t stop Tommy Lee from talking may it at least have the mercy to just kill Nikki Sixx in some freak accident of nature before he does get going.

So it’s going to be about Heather. It’s about a girlfriend and it’s going to end up being his problem. What a wonderful end to the week.

He debates ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘That really sucks man’ or maybe the old reliable ‘There’s plenty of fish in the sea’ but he can’t decide which leads to a quicker end in the conversation before Tommy keeps going, “An’ that makes me, it’s not fair. Makes me upset.”

Nikki decides nodding here would be appropriate. He’s not sure the severity of this, Heather had seemed nice enough the few times he’d met her in the past few months, but that mixed with Tommy’s dreamy notions of true love and a wedding had been enough to keep him from getting to know her. True love was something he didn’t have the time for and Tommy took up enough of that on his own.

“Do y'know why?” Tommy asks, and he does his best to turn towards Nikki but the seatbelt confuses him slightly and he stops to pull at it like he can’t remember putting it on. He hadn’t put it on, Nikki had, but that was beside the point and Tommy had been trying to hug him at the same time.

Nikki decides the exit strategy is now or never so he opens the car door and steps out. In the time it takes him to walk in front of the car and to the other side, he still can’t come up with what to stay to save this conversation for when one of them isn’t drunk off his ass. Or the best-case scenario, never. His boot scuffs against the asphalt when he stops beside the door.

Tommy is struggling with the seat belt latch when he finally gets to his door, and he waits until he gets the button clicked before opening it. He just needs to get him to his apartment, into his bed and maybe without his puke-covered shoes. And if he’s feeling nice, to get him to drink a glass of water so he doesn’t feel like a complete asshole before he gets to go home himself. It should be simple enough, he’s done this before and tonight doesn’t have to be special. He’d try to tell himself that the entire ride home but any reassurance had begun to wane the more Tommy talked.

The door flies the rest of the way open and he doges it before it can hit him and Tommy springs out with the most coordination he’s seen in him all night. It’s short-lived, because he leans in too close to Nikki, absolutly reeking of booze that it hits Nikki like a train. Jesus, is this how people see him when he gets drunk? Maybe cutting back couldn’t hurt, Tommy smells like he drank the entire bar.

“She broke up with me,” Tommy points at himself for emphasis and Nikki grabs his arm to steer him towards the doors. “Nope, dude, you gotta listen to me.” Nikki makes the executive decision that he does not, in fact, need to listen to him and continues dragging him towards the building again. He wonders what the neighbors must think of this whenever Tommy gets home in various stages of a few beers to wasted every other night of the week.

“Come on, T-Bone, let's just get you inside,” he says, and the lightbulb must go off inside Tommy’s head (because all of his genius ideas seem to come after the vodka) because his face lights up. He sits- or rather half falls once he gets to the point where he should have folded his legs, onto the ground.

“Oh, you motherfucker,” Nikki groans, because Tommy is looking up at him from the cracked sidewalk like a kid in the grocery store who’s throwing a tantrum much to everyone's annoyance and slight entertainment.

“She said,” Tommy swats Nikki’s hand away when he tries to pull him back up, determined to finish his story, “That she didn’t wanna stay with me because I love someone else.” Nikki nods because he’s tired and getting cold and maybe, just maybe, if Tommy wraps up the sap story they can both return to their respective beds for the night.

“Do y’wanna know who?" he waits, maybe expecting a response that's not coming,  M’ gonna tell you anyway.” Tommy stares at his boots noticing the vomit for the first time but only succeeding in putting off the end to his big statement. He glares at it like he could blame it for this whole situation instead of himself and Nikki starts to think that he’s going to pass out. Which would be considerably better to get him to shut up, but worse to get him into his apartment. He sways a little, and even sitting Nikki worries he’ll still manage to crack his head open.

“Man, you gotta get up,” Nikki’s sharp exhale doesn’t do much to catch Tommy’s attention back. It’s too quiet for some reason, the lack of complaining and loud laughter that Tommy usually keeps up makes everything feel empty for the first time all night.  

“Tommy,” Nikki says, doing his best to put authority behind it and hoping that Tommy takes a hint and drags his sorry ass inside before he passes out for real. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t give a shit about what should or shouldn’t be happening. And why should he really, Nikki thinks, it’s not like he’s the one with a redecorated interior to his car and a wasted best friend on the ground.

“It was you,” Tommy finishes.

Nikki waits for a second, hoping his earlier prayer gets cashed in and the ground can swallow him up. It doesn’t. He waits for Tommy to add in something else that makes it sound better than what he’s hearing, but for once he doesn’t say anything. His heart seems louder than normal, he can feel the beat in his chest like it’s getting tighter each time.

If he wasn’t so sure that Tommy wouldn’t remember most of this in the morning, he would keep his mouth shut. He really would, but he does have the benefit of no repercussions to his questions tonight, “Was she right?”

Tommy glares at him, “Not gonna say it.”

Of course, he won’t. The one time in their lives when he needs him to say something, and he's going to play stupid. Part of him knows how irrational it is to get angry now, but he is.

“Just get up,” he snaps, “and quit fucking around.” It’s probably too harsh, as Tommy stretches his legs out and then begins the process of navigating the cracked sidewalk while still on his ass, neglecting to actually try to stand up. He would gladly walk away at this point, cut his loses and forget any hint of awkwardness that Tommy might have just created, he did his time tonight and at least got him most of the way home. He's already in for a night of no sleeping because he'll be thinking about this.

Instead, he grabs Tommy the best he can and hauls him back up to his feet. He’s heavier than Nikki expects, and the extra height makes it even more of a struggle to maneuver him. For a brief moment, he sees the light at the end of the tunnel when Tommy manages to stand on his own, but it leaves just as quickly when Tommy’s arms end up around him,

“Nikki,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder, and the hand fisted in the back of Nikki’s t-shirt doesn’t loosen its grip, “I don’ think I was supposed to- I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

[eturni]

Day 30 - Resolution

I’m behind again because D&D took my whole life and I only got this half done by the time I absolutely Had to sleep. For @drawlight’s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today (yesterday) is/was resolution.

It was absolutely supposed to be increasingly drunk, silly resolutions in the style that a couple of my friends did one year and then it took a hard lean into angst and pining? Suppose that’s what happens when two immortal beings can’t resolve to reach for what they truly want. Enjoy!

It was the second year of the Julian Calendar, Caesar was dead, Rome had devolved into civil war, and an angel and a demon were holed up in a small home with mistletoe tucked into the bottom corner of the window.

For months it had become a safe, neutral, space for the both of them as they monitored the fallout from the assassination and the progression of both the civil wars and little Octavius’ rise. Not a continually shared space, naturally. Each of them had their own quarters in entirely different areas of the empire and each of them had wildly different assignments in the aftermath.

What they also had was a central location where they had met, respectably rarely, to bitch, gripe, moan, and (on one very memorable occasion for Crowley) have what was worryingly close to a full human panic attack.

Aziraphale had of course protested heavily at the initial suggestion and yet by the time Junius was ending Crowley often found the angel at the little house before he turned up; often with a decent wine already unstoppered. It took a little of the edge off of ridiculous orders that had no regard or understanding of how the humans actually operated. They wasted (never wasted, not truly) nights with incredulous stories of their bosses and hyperbole about the good or evil they had seen in those humans they came close to.

The truce had still been tentative, it always was between the both of them. Crowley’s natural urge was to push against boundaries; to wheedle and tempt, where Aziraphale’s fall back was to the comfort of the party line and words that someone else had given him. Crowley always felt it was a shame that Aziraphale hoarded libraries around him and collected all the world’s poetry into his heart and yet, when push came to shove, what came out was always the silted practised words that the archangels had handed down.

Saturnalia that year had helped to change that. The mistletoe in the window declared something that wasn’t quite yet their side but still somehow took a sense of friction away from the space that neither had been truly aware of until it was suddenly gone.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52627138 or:

Crowley arranged to have more work to do nearer Rome specifically and spent increasing amounts of time there for more than just shop talk. Aziraphale even returned one day to find that the demon had made himself a bed and was sleeping soundly in a blocked off corner. He was adamant that the demon would never find out how long he had stood there transfixed by both the sight and the whirl of complex emotions it had stirred up like a dust cloud with a good cleaning.

The place became almost like a home with the amount that the two of them frequented it. Not that it could be such a thing when it was a shared space. It was merely a neutral ground and both of them regularly reminded themselves of the fact, just to be sure.

Saturnalia passed with a surprising amount of fanfare. Some of the fighting lulled around the time and tentative celebrations kicked up right across the empire. A certain angel and demon used the tradition of role reversal to pretend to be human for a couple of days.

They were heading for Januarius and Crowley checked almost daily that the sprig was still there and that the peace between them wasn’t ending. In Hell it was always Too Late. As a demon you got used to it, though a mortal soul never could, but this in between uncertainty was somehow worse than the perpetual looming sense of having already lost.

This was living on borrowed time.

It was waking up in that house and knowing that the angel was somewhere nearby and knowing that it couldn’t be that way for much longer. Knowing that he would likely get no say in when that ended, or how, because he could never dare bring it up himself in fear of hurrying that inevitable end to the strange peace they had found amidst the chaos.

There was even the chance that it would be broken by someone from either of their sides turning up in the city. Even with the relative ease between the two of them it was a risk that consistently played at the back of both of their minds.

By the time the sun set on the eve of the new year Crowley was in the very nice loose-but-lucid state of drunkenness that allowed him to think a little bit less about the contingencies he wound into his life and plans. Somewhere far off pockets of civil unrest were still burning hotly and formed bright spots of potential temptation on Crowley’s radar that he shrugged off in favour of the warmth of Aziraphale’s company.

“Y’know, if you think about it. If you considered everything you did, and everything I did, and all this mess… We’d have been just as well not bothering at all really. All the bad, or good, it really did in the end.” Crowley mused, well into the second of the amphorae and desperately close to the beginnings of an idea that he would later claim a spark of genius.

Aziraphale tutted and rolled his eyes at this. “The whole point is that I guide and thwart your wiles and the humans get to make their decisions. It’s all terribly important for the great plan.”

Granted the plan was a little fuzzy after the amount of drink he’d taken but Aziraphale wasn’t about to admit to that particular point.

“Yeah; and they’re trying to make choices for the whole year right now. Future they don’t know if they’ll live to see,” Crowley flopped down onto the bench around their table, perilously close to Aziraphale’s lap, and looked up to the other thoughtfully. “What would you resolve to do?”

What in Heaven’s name do you mean Crowley?” Aziraphale wiggled a little uncomfortably, tips of his ears warming at the too-familiar nearness of the demon.

“Well, this whole thing’s about Janus, right? You look back, you look forward, and you decide what you want to do. We should do it too. What do you want to change next year?” He presses, getting up for just long enough to top up both of their cups before going boneless again.

“Well there’s hardly a point to that. I’ll have my orders I imagine, as will you. What could I even want to change?”

“C’mon though angel, really think about it.”

“I hardly see the point. I follow Janus no more than I follow Saturn. There isn’t any point in this little game for me.”

“I mean I don’t either you daft sod. I know what’s actually there, you don’t just forget that,” he rolled his eyes expressively behind small dark glasses “but it’s a bit of fun isn’t it? Think about all the stuff that happened year before and then decide what you’re gonna do… different.”

“You mean what you’re going to do better?” Aziraphale arched a brow.

Crowley scowled and waved off the idea with one hand while pouring more from the amphora with the other. “S’all relative angel. What’s better for them’s sure to be looked down on by your lot.”

“Well, they’re still trying to improve and that’s admirable.” Aziraphale huffed through his nose.

Crowley only grinned. “Well if you like it so much why don’ you join in?” He needled, a smug little bob of his head punctuating the sip of wine he took.

Aziraphale looked down into his cup with a tight-lined mouth, studying it too closely. “There’s nothing I could want to change.” He said, with all the intensity that he usually did when he wanted to convince himself more than anything.

“Bullshit,” Crowley declared with a grin “I’ll start us off. I’m resolving to try more new stuff than just wine next year. There’s a lot more they can make alcoholic with the right push.”

There was another sigh and a tut but Aziraphale seemed to relax incrementally and Crowley took it as a win. “I think I shall resolve to put up with fewer of your shenanigans.”

“I think you should resolve to put up with less archangel bullshit.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale made a good show of looking scandalised as he sipped his drink. “I think you should resolve to learn how legs work finally.”

Crowley looked at him, mouth falling just slightly open in a way that just shouldn’t be so alluring. The demon looked somewhere between shocked and appreciative. “I’ll get right on that angel; just as soon as you learn how to dress in the right century.”

“Well it’s certainly not something I feel the need to resolve to do.”

They both took another few decent drinks before Crowley piped up again sullenly. “I’d like to resolve to tempt someone who wasn’t going to do something more horrific than anything I suggested.”

Aziraphale hummed distractedly. Some humans did feel like uphill battles at times. “I think I’ll resolve to be a little more active in thwarting those wiles of yours. You do seem to find the ones that do serious harm and I often let you go centuries without dealing with you.”

Crowley very carefully stopped breathing for a few moments to process the words, wondering exactly how bad it was that the resolution sounded appealing to him more than anything else.

“If I’m going to have my own personal angel thwarting me I suppose I’ll have to try a little harder at the tempting. Wouldn’t want you t get bored, angel.”

“I’m sure I won’t with your mischief.” Aziraphale declared, again with more concentration than should be needed going into his disapproving look. “Anyway. It’s almost the new year and I am famished; what say we eat?” He suggested, more for something to do to deflect whatever was happening. A miracle provided them any food that they would need and Crowley, thankfully, backed off for the moment.

By the time they were done with the meal and through another couple of amphorae Aziraphale was feeling far too relaxed and Crowley had, at some point, ended up almost on his chest as they reclined on the bench. He was absently passing up the occasional grape to Aziraphale as they chatted about nothing that made any sense.

Aziraphale was expounding on how hippopotamuses leading chariots would be both terrifying and awe-inspiring when he realised that Crowley had gone quieter than usual. He looked down, half expecting the demon to be asleep but instead finding him staring into his own cup intently, lips moving but voice too quiet to be heard over Aziraphale’s own excited musings.

Now that things were quieter he could hear the faintest murmurs of some of it. “Could resolve to listen to you like this forever. C’n’a resi-seso-thing even be to wile where you are? Resolve to watch you smile more. Make you smile more. Blessed idiot.”

The angel picked up speaking again, trying to pretend he’d never stopped at all, and eventually suggested that Crowley actually go to sleep while he tidied the mess.

Aziraphale knew the exact brand of coward that he was but the moment Crowley was asleep he used the opportunity to slip out of the home and take the sprig of mistletoe with him. His heart thundered and stomach churned the entire time with the feeling that he was doing something wrong. Still, he knew the only truly wrong thing could be in going along with whatever it was that stirred in him whenever Crowley was near.

He resolved, if anything, to be stronger against this thing in his chest that he could not feel for a demon. He didn’t see Crowley again until he was helplessly watching a young man from Galilee be put to death for nothing more than human kindness and a demon provided the only compassion that Aziraphale saw. Every moment between them ground down against a resolution that Aziraphale was increasingly uncertain he ever wanted to make.

[writingforshalyn-blog]

December 26th, 2019. I’M NOT FUCKING CRAZY!

 Well, well, well. What a satisfyingly bittersweet moment it is to be right about discovering that your partner has lied to you about the nature of their relationship with a particular person. I want to call it cheating. I want to say she cheated on me. I have a hard time saying that though, due to the fact that I had sex with a random guy and she only was being flirty and probably a little sexy with the ex girlfriend that I thought she might have been. Jane and her goblin children.

It came up rather spontaneously. As you know if you’re reading these entries in chronological order, you’ll know I didn’t feel quite right about her hanging out with Jane. You’ll know I felt off and felt jealous in a way that I didn’t really feel when it came to the other woman she was interacting with (as far as receiving nudes from her). The difference is Jane was an ex. Jane was someone my girlfriend, at least at some point, had an interest in being with, for whatever reasons (not important to me). When we opened the doors for open relationships (which was really just a sexual agreement as far as I was concerned) I thought I made it clear that exes were not allowed. I wasn’t going to be comfortable knowing she was having sexual/romantic conversations with people she once dated, and I told her that I would act in the same way and not even think about getting involved with anyone that I was previously involved with. When she started talking to Jane, I knew it was fishy. I knew it didn’t feel okay to me. I knew I didn’t feel good with her talking to her. I wasn’t confident in Jane’s ability to remain friends, nor, truthfully, Rowan’s. I want her to have friends and I would like to make that absolutely clear. I also want to feel respected when it comes to my insecurities and what I don’t feel okay with.

Let me put a note here, before I get down to what happened exactly and how I came about finding out, that these words are after a couple days of sitting with my feelings and thumbing through everything multiple times. I was not put together enough to write this when I found out. I was very much so confused and could not figure out the mentality that Rowan could have had when doing what she was doing with this girl and why she felt justified, even in the moment. Don’t take the way I speak about this to think that I feel like she is redeemed, like she shouldn’t have to face what she did and own the fuck up to it. I’ve told her more than once that she needs to own the fuck up to the mistake that was entirely hers, not mine, nor Jane’s, really. There’s my disclaimer.

So I just so happened to pick up her phone on Christmas Eve, early, before we went to her mom’s house before her christmas dinner. I got curious, and something just compelled me to pick her phone up. I didn’t have a specific thought or a specific thing that I thought I was looking for, something just inched me towards that. I begin scrolling through her conversations with Jane and scroll up to a point not too far up in the conversation where Rowan removed a message. I only know she removed it because messenger shows it on her phone somehow. I asked her, woke her up from a nap, and asked why she was removing things from their conversation on messenger. She said she didn’t remember what it was she removed and didn’t know why she did it. Bullshit lie #1. I scrolled down a little bit and I see a message where she said “I was going to tell you something but I’ll just wait until I see you in person”. I asked her what it was she was going to say to Jane in person that she couldn’t say on her phone. She said she was going to tell her she wasn’t sure if they could be friends, which is still up in the air when determining the truth. Maybe that was what she was going to say. But if it was, she never got around to saying it. Half a bullshit lie. As I begin really getting that pit in my stomach, the kind that makes you angry instead of sad, she pops up off her pillow, demanding her phone back. Her reaction was what really tipped my bullshitting scale. Never had she told me not to go through her phone and never has she demanded her phone out of my hands. She might have gotten pissed off, but she never tried to snatch it out of my hands and gotten that tone in her voice that she gets when she’s angry over it. It shocked me into almost calmness. I pulled the phone away and refused to give it back to her, although I did stop reading her messages. I asked her what it was that I wasn’t supposed to see on her phone. I asked her why I all of a sudden couldn’t see her phone when she’s always said she didn’t care if I looked through it whenever I wanted to. I wanted to look through it now, I said, so why can’t I now? What’s in these messages?

Her replied were curt and in those moments I knew she was about to be busted for something big. “Nothing!” she said loudly. Bullshit lie #2 1/2. I asked her over and over multiple times what was in the messages that she didn’t want me to see. Multiple times she said nothing and that she was just mad that I didn’t “believe and trust her enough”. BULLSHITTTTTTTTTT LIE. Not only lie, bullshit manipulation and gaslighting. I had to think quickly. I had to figure out a compromise for us both. “Tell me what’s in these messages or I’m looking through them all. If you tell me what I’m not supposed to see I won’t read them, but if you don’t I’m reading all of them from start to end.” She moaned and groaned. She tried again to lie her way out of it but I think it was after I said those words that she ran out of options. It was the furthest she could lie before I caught her, the furthest she could take it to try and make me feel crazy before entering into a damn near irredeemable place between us. Her last chance to come clean to me before I found out. So she folded. She still tried downplaying it and gaslighting me by saying “Just flirting and shit, things I knew you’d be pissed about.”

In that moment, the grip I had on my almost calmness weakened. “Because you lied?!” Because we both knew I had asked her what was going on between them. We both knew I had told her I didn’t want her having a relationship, sexual or romantic, with any exes. We both knew she’d lied to me, multiple times, right to my face. She had lied and, in my mind at least, had cheated on me. Cheated in the definition that our agreed upon terms of our relationship was not only broken but, when asked about it, was lied about. After I snapped about her lying, she then hit me with what I knew she would try to hit me with. “At least I didn’t have sex with a random guy in the back of his truck.”

Okay, stop. When we entered into the agreement, I thought it was purely sexual anyways. I felt okay with doing what I was doing, even though it was done on the first day of our agreement, because I knew it was not going to go anywhere, because I was following everything that I thought our agreement was, and because I was communicating with her 100% openly and honestly about what my intentions were, and even checked with her multiple times directly before going with the guy I hooked up with. Nothing I did was shady, nothing I did was outside of the boundaries that we both had set in place for each other. 

That was when I completely released my hold on staying cool with her. Not to say I didn’t care what I said or did, I still wasn’t trying to be mean or hurtful, but at that point I was confident in myself and my grip on the situation that I wasn’t afraid of saying something that I didn’t mean or that wasn’t factual in regards to the situation. 

“At least I didn’t lie about it! At least I’m not a liar! I told you what I was doing, you told me it was okay! At least I’m not fucking around with my ex!” I was only vaguely aware of how loud I was being and I didn’t really care who heard what I was talking about. For all I cared, let everybody come in the room with us while we had the conversation. 

I had to go outside and take a moment to fucking process everything that had hit me within 5 minutes. At that point, her flirting with Jane wasn’t even what I was upset about the most. I was pissed and mildly upset about it, but what I was more upset about was the complete, utter lies and the blatant gaslighting that she had tried to pull on me. She tried to discredit me in every way she could think of before giving up her hold on information. The tried to create doubt in my mind about why I felt the way I felt. Not only was I being “crazy” and “untrusting”, I was also having something that someone, not knowing the nature of our agreement, would most definitely think I was horrible for doing. I had sex with somebody, after all. If someone told me the whole story and left out that we had an explicit agreement that included NO EXES, I would think that the one who had sex with someone else was the bad guy too. 

I sat on the back porch and looked up into the sky, at the bare trees, the electric wires running through yards, and the fence. I tried to wrap my brain around how to defend myself. I knew I shouldn’t have to defend myself. She knew the rules. She knew what I didn’t want. She lied to me about what she was doing with Jane. She said she was only interested in being friends with Jane, which might have been true. Maybe that was the only thing that she wanted, but she knew Jane wanted something else and she didn’t mention the flirting. She didn’t tell me when the conversation went flirty or romantic or sexual. 

I called my sister and spilled what I had just found out. She was at Christmas with our friend Taylor, but I needed to talk to her about it. I didn’t feel like she would really judge me, even if she didn’t understand the agreement we had. I bitched for a few minutes loudly and then let her get back to christmas. More silence as I took in my surroundings and tried to wrap my mind around it again, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together in a way that redeemed Rowan in some way. I wanted to give her the benefit. I wanted to make sense of it all. I just couldn’t figure it out. 

She finally came to the backyard and stood up beside me. There was silence for many minutes and I tried to pretend like I didn’t want to scream at her. I am an emotional ass bitch in the most real way, not that I’m very proud of it, but I am known for being emotional and crying at anything that tips my mood too quickly or even at all sometimes. With this, I couldn’t even cry. I didn’t even have to fight the tears or hold them back. There was no urge to cry. There was an urge to understand and to make her say that she had fucked up, that she knew she had fucked up. I wanted to hear her tell me I wasn’t crazy, that I wasn’t being a bitch, that I wasn’t trying to isolate her, and that she knew I hadn’t done anything wrong when I hooked up with that guy, all things that I knew, but that I needed her to know and needed her to know that I knew that she knew. she had fucked up big. 

She finally broke the silence. “Can we please agree to move on from this if I agree to not talk to her anymore?”

I felt another slap in the face. After the huge thing that had just happened, her solution that she thought was fair to both of us was to move on so long as she didn’t talk to her anymore? WHAT THE FUCK. 

“You want me to move on from just being lied to for 5 minutes straight, from being lied to since we had this agreement in place, from giving you so many opportunities to come clean with me? I’d like to not be dealing with this on Christmas Eve, we could have already been past this if you would have just told me. But now here we are, I’m feeling like I just got cheated on, and you’re wanting me to move on if you agree to not talk to her anymore? YOU FUCKED UP.”

She took my slightly aggressive tone pretty well. “I know I fucked up,” she said quietly.

“No, like,” I began, feeling like she really wasn’t grasping the severity of my emotions. “You fucked up. You lied to me. I have lost so much respect for you. How could you think any of this was okay? Not even just the flirting, the lying and the gaslighting? Do you know how fucking manipulative this has been of you? You straight up told me I was being crazy and that I should just trust you. You told me you didn’t want anything with her.”

“I don’t, and I didn’t,” she interjected.

“How can you say that?!”

“She just started being flirty and I didn’t know how to stop it!”

“OWN UP!” I was borderline screaming now and she still didn’t try to tell me to calm down. “You could have stopped it at any point! You didn’t want to hurt her feelings but you could have stopped it! You sure as fuck didn’t have to entertain it!”

She stood silent for a few moments outside of the puff and exhale of smoke from her cigarette. I ran my hands over my face, grabbing at my skin there. What was I supposed to make of it all? What was I supposed to do with the information and her reaction of it?

“You fucked up.” I said again. She didn’t reply so I continued, angered again by the remembrance of her using my hookup against me, and I realized that I hadn’t even brought that up to her yet. “And you tried to throw me hooking up with Cory in my face?! We agreed on it! I messaged you before I went with him, multiple times, asking you if it was okay! And you said yes! I didn’t lie about it! You can read every single message I exchanged with him right now! You’re either really shitty or there’s something else that I���m missing here. Are you really of that mindset that I’m just a whore because of it??”

“No.”

She took a moment now to gather her thoughts and I just let her think, not knowing what else to say without getting something else from her.

“No,” she finally said carefully. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I said that because I was mad--”

“At who?!”

“Myself. I felt stupid. It was wrong of me to say that.”

“Wrong of you? Absolutely it was wrong of you. You told me it was okay.”

“I know, and it is and was. I didn’t mean that.”

I still didn’t understand. There was something else, some other feeling or some other piece altogether that I wasn’t being told about.

“I felt jealous,” I finally got out of her. “I was jealous because it happened so fast with him. We agreed to be open and on the same day you went and fucked somebody else. It felt like I was being jaded.”

“Then why didn’t you say something before I did it?! Why are you telling me now that I can’t do anything about it? This whole fucking thing could have been avoided and please keep in mind that you brought this to me. You wanted the open relationship and not to say that I didn’t think it would benefit me too, because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t have agreed to it, but you were the one who has, for months, told me that you wouldn’t mind being open and you wouldn’t mind me going to have sex with somebody. And I knew you would be mad. And I knew it would cause problems. You told me it wouldn’t. Before I went with Cory I asked you clearly and explicitly, “There’s a guy who wants to hook up with me, is that okay with you? I want to be respectful. I don’t want to hurt you in any way.” YOU SAID IT WAS OKAY AND TO USE PROTECTION.”

“I know.”

The redeeming thing about her in the wake of this scandal was that she eventually stopped making excuses. Afterwards, I cooled off and tried to pretend like everything was okay. I went to her moms house with her, her brother Adam, and her daughter, and I played the happy girlfriend. It helped me a little bit, to get out of the room and to have a positive ecperience with her and the family. I truly love them all except for the stepdad, but that’s for another day when I’m feeling real spicy and angsty. 

I think I took it as well as I possibly could have taken it.

Later on, either that night or the next day, she told Jane she couldn’t be friends with her anymore. I told her I didn’t feel comfortable with her talking to her. I didn’t feel okay and I didn’t trust either of them in the slightest. So she told her and, after they had the conversation, I read the conversation. I no longer felt like she deserved privacy and so I had no qualms with reading it. 

Basically, she told her that we had gotten into it over their conversations and that, since they both could agree that they didn’t know if they could just be friends without being flirty, that I had asked they not be friends anymore. Jane took it as well as I expected her to.

She went off, pretty much. “She’s allowed to go hook up with a random ass guy but you can’t even talk to me? She’s not hurt by our conversations she’s bitter and jealous that she can’t have her cake and eat it too.”

That set me off all over again because Rowan let her go unchecked. She didn’t own up to Jane. She owned up to me, but she let Jane completely fucking trash talk me and didn’t tell her that it was HER fault, that SHE had lied, that we had an AGREEMENT, that I had asked her EXPLICITLY before going to fuck Cory. All she could manage to say to Jane was “I just want to hide” “I’m just trying to keep everyone’s feelings from being hurt”. 

Jane then went on to insult Rowan, by saying “The rowan I know wouldn’t just sit down and let her do this, if I pulled this shit on you it wouldn’t have been okay”. She eventually told Jane that she just needed to say goodnight and goodbye and stopped replying to her. 

As far as I know, she hasn’t replied to anything Jane’s sent to her since. Jane texted her apologizing for blowing up and telling rowan to let her know when she makes a decision, apparently not grasping the realization that the decision had already been made. 

Rowan has deleted the messages between them on messenger, so I will never know exactly what degree of flirting (or if that was all that was even going on) was happening. Part of me wonders if there was more and Rowan isn’t still just trying to save herself. I would surely hope the fuck not. 

My mindset right now is essentially the way it was before if I’m being honest. I don’t trust her fully, not in the way I used to at least. I still feel like I was cheated on, not just for the flirting, but because of the nature that the information came to light with the lying and gaslighting. I no longer believe that she is as loyal as she has always claimed to be. But I’m able to forgive her in most ways. I can now see how her feelings about me and Cory had come into play. It was fast and I probably shouldn’t have jumped into it as fast as I did, but I also know my intentions with it were not anything more than just being curious about what hooking up with someone was like. I wasn’t even particularly attracted to him. I know I didn’t do anything wrong in our relationship. Maybe to other people who aren’t okay with other people being poly-amorous I did something wrong, but I take that in the same way that I take people thinking being gay is wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong in the context of me and her. Lack of communication is, ultimately, what created the whole mess, maybe on both parts. Not that it’s my fault that she lied, but in that maybe if I had pushed her a little harder to be open with me, and maybe if I had spelled my boundaries out more clearly, maybe we could have avoided the situation. 

I don’t know what else to really say about it. I’ve called off talking to other people definitively for both of us. I messaged all the people that I had been flirting with or sending nudes to and told them that I couldn’t continue with it anymore. I apologized if it hurt them and they all took it well. No hard feelings, seeing as I was open and honest and apologetic about the situation.

So yeah. I got cheated on and found out on Christmas Eve of 2019. What a month this has been.

[laketaj24]

Played Pt 4

A/N: Heyy! I removed some people from the taglist that weren’t active, if it was you... I’m sorry I’ll put you back on lol Just say the word! NSFW below the cut. 

“Ian!” You yell from your bedroom. “Shoes on now! You’re going to be late for your first day of school.” Your son had never done what you want you wanted him to, he always rebelled.

“No!” He yells from the hallway poking his little pink tongue between his lips. Ivar had enrolled him in Lothbrok Prestige, the Daycare/Preschool in the lobby of the company. It helped you with him being so close to you both. But Ivar hadn’t seen him since that day. And he’d more than likely blocked you because all of your call went directly to voicemail.

“Ian!” You growl hauling down the hallway stepping on the small red brick of a lego. You howl something furious and he points at you giggling as he walks down the hall to get away. Legos were the damn devil. Then there was your child, a menace to society since birth. He shared one distinct feature with Ivar and those were his glacier blue eyes. Always piercing rather, they were menacing or playful. “Your Gigi is going to be so upset you won’t put on her favorite shirt. You’re only going to stay for a day or so.”

“I want to stay with you!” He screams.

“No,” you say exhaling. “Look, mommy has to handle some things and you have stay with Gigi and Pop. It’s not a choice. Get your clothes on your four-year old devil.”

He pouts folding his arms over his chest as he walks over to the counter grabbing the striped shirt. “I want to stay with you.”

“You’re going to meet some new friends here soon. They’re your family and I think you’ll have fun. But you can’t do that until mommy handles the business. So, tell me that you will be good. Please.”

“Fine.” He does as you ask putting on his clothes, the little blue jean button up and his striped shirt underneath. You make it outside to the car and bends down tying his shoes and you snap a picture of him. He smiles devilishly cute and you two walk into the building.

“Ian, your Uncle Ubbe is going to take you to his office until school starts. Do you promise to behave?”

Ubbe waits patiently watching you pep talk the little four-year old. “I’m scared.” He says with a wavering lip.

Ubbe bends down in front of him. “You’re going to be okay. See here you are a little warrior, I’ll keep you safe if you keep me safe?” Ian shakes his head in agreement holding Ubbe’s hand. “Have you talked to him?” He whispers.

“He won’t talk to me. And it’s his birthday this weekend, both of them.”

“He’ll be fine eventually, he’s just pissed. Hvitserk and I plan to be at the party.” He rolls his eyes. “We have to go now Ian. Tell your mom goodbye.”

 Ivar didn’t like to celebrate his birthday, he didn’t have fond memories of the last time it was celebrated. He remembered crying over Aslaug and sifting through rubble from where his brothers lie. It was the reason he had banned Bjorn from all in house business dealing. He could do whatever he wanted to with the Lothbrok Outreach Program, but he was never allowed in the company’s business. He stared down at the picture of the young your mother had sent him. He for sure had his eyes. Glacier blue and sneaky. He smirked. He didn’t understand why you had hid it. But he didn’t dwell on it vocally. He slides his shirt over his head and pats Nia on her thigh.

“Are you gonna get up babe? We have a ton to get done.”

“It’s your birthday, so I have made some reservations and then your brothers said that they would be there.”

“I don’t want to be around anyone really. No one but you, we should just take the boat out today and celebrate alone?”

“No,” Nia sat up in the bed. She wasn’t like Y/N. She was stubborn and defensive of everything regarding him. Y/N went with what eh said for the most part always understanding his reasoning. “We can get your son and we can all go somewhere.”

“No,” he answers stubbornly. He hadn’t tried to see him two weeks. Ivar couldn’t think of words to say and he was sure that he couldn’t control his anger towards Y/N. he’d already made her work overtime and given her extra floors, all except his. “I don’t want him to meet you.”

“I beg your pardon?” she raised her eyebrow pushing him forward as she stood up from the bed.

“I said don’t want him to meet you. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you to understand babe. This is my son and I am just now at the beginning of getting to know him. You don’t need to know him. And I don’t want to offend Y/N.”

“Offend her!” She yelled. “you should have that bitch locked up for the way she hid your child from you and just left. Why does this hoe, yes, I said fucking hoe, get all the affection? She deserves nothing.”

Ivar says nothing watching her parade around the room wearing only her underwear. “Are you done?” he says once she’s silent for a moment. “She is the mother of my child and I will give her some respect for that and also, my relationship with Y/N is none of your concern.”

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s not. So, celebrate your birthday by yourself you fucking asshole.” Nia slams the door behind her and he sits on the edge of the bed. “Let her play your ass again!!!” She yells.

 You stare down at the Facebook post. He couldn’t even allow you a moment. He’d commented with his snide remark and you wanted to scream. Ivar’s distance towards you was uncanny. He’d gone out of his way to not look at you and even called your mom to talk about Ian. Yes, you were wrong. You knew that you were and that was understandable, but you wanted to talk to him. You try to perk up for the trip, but it was weighing you that he didn’t want to see you.

You’d never rode in or driven a box truck, but chance was definitely having the time of his life. He continued to sway and sing to the music as if he was at a concert. “Man, what you know about this?”

“Gangster Party? What do you know about this chance?” You laugh watching him bring out his definite west coast swag you didn’t even know he had.

He continues to dance and sway to the beat bumping into you playfully until you start to sing the lyrics. Then he turns the music down. “I ain’t forgot about my food either.”

“I know you haven’t, fat ass.” You pause twiddling with your fingers before looking up at him. “There are some things that you should know about me. And if after you hear them you don’t want to be my friend anymore or fuck or whatever, it’s fine.”

“You a murderer?”

“No?” You gasp.

“Aight, then whatever you have to say won’t be that bad.” He smirks. “Hit me with it.”

“I have a child. His name is Ian and he is the absolute light of my life, no matter how much of a tiny terrorist he is, he’s five, well about to be tomorrow.”

“That’s great news. I can crack mom jokes on you now. Oh, hell yes,” He pauses. “I’m with a MILF. This is like checking off three major ass items from my bucket list.”

“wow, you’re a dick.” She laughs but is relieved he doesn’t care really.

“I don’t mind tiny terrorists. Kids are awesome. I have like ten nieces and nephews myself and as a matter of fact I have a new one on the way next week. My sister is having her first child. So no, children don’t scare me off. What else you got?”

“When I was younger I kind of lost my shit. I was dating his brother, Hvitserk. I cheated on him with Ivar and I loved him,” you gulp at the past tense word “loved” not knowing if it was true or not. Every time you thought of him your heart still leapt even if he had blocked your number. “but I was wild. I was pretty much a slight thot.”

“Just a little thot?” He laughs. “Continue I’m sorry.”

You relish in the fact that he is so controlled in this conversation and his opinion of you hasn’t wavered. “Anyway, I cheated on him with Ubbe.”

“The cool one,” he shrugs. “It’s cool ma, you don’t even have to explain this shit to me, for real.”

“Well, I left because I did that and I didn’t want to face Ivar and then like the day after I found out about my son and I never came back.”

“His father is Ivar Lothbrok.” The box truck veers off the road for a minute when he jakes his head over and stares at you and he regains control of the situation. “I know. I have a baby by your boss and that perhaps is not the ideal part of it.”

“The dude with the soft ass voice that everybody is scared of?” Chance says.

“Soft voice? Ivar, my highly crazy ex that has no personal boundaries and often is the pettiest guy I have ever met in my life.”

“Didn’t know all that side shit.” Chance laughs.  “But look ma, every single person has a past, be that good or bad. And I don’t judge people for the shit they have done because that is not my place. You embraced that shit like a pro and I have no business placing my judgement on you. If you can live with yourself and still be doing like you are, I don’t even care. I hope this kid ain’t got no soft ass voice though.” He burst into laughter.

“Shut up.” You say laughing.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to be choosing between the tow of us. I don’t know what you got going on with that or whatever, but we getting to know each other. I like you. Don’t rsh back to this guy because it’s easy?”

“Okay. I mean it. Take you time.”

 The next day you return home from the trip having unpacked most of Ian’s things in his room and everything else was at least put away for the moment. He’d stayed at your parents’ house long enough. He needed a routine and a normal life.

Your mom had actually done you a favor and called you to let you know Ivar was coming. You found odd he could bucket on Facebook but never respond to you. You push those thoughts aside when you here the door close outside. Of course Ivar was here. Two weeks was long enough. You sit in the floor with Ian watching him fly Superman over the Lego Buildings. Ivar isn’t walking with his cane and you weren’t sure why, but you peer up to him and stand from the ground. “Ivar.”

“What are you doing here?” He whispers. Your mom half hugs him and grabs her keys walking out of the house.  “Y/N.”

“He’s about to meet his father for the first time.” You whisper. “And I didn’t want to not be here. I want you to know him and talk to him.”

“First of all, if you truly wanted this knowing and talking. You would have let me see his first step.” He whispers harshly. “you would have let me here him say his first word. You would have let me hear that first cry. And for you to say that you give a fuck now is infuriating and I cannot listen to your bullshit. You want to be here. Fine. Sit your ass down and leave me alone.” He walks past you over to Ian. “Hey. Remember me?”

“Yes.” Ian drops Superman. “Fucking Horrible!”

“Ivar, but close enough.” He sits on the couch in front of him. “Your mom has something to tell you. Isn’t that right?” He says glaring at you. “Come on.” You watch him pat the seat next to him and walk over to him.

You sit next to him. He’s shaking nervously glaring at you. There was no way you would make it through the small talk without trying to cry. “Ian, I told you not to say that again.” You gripe. “This nice man is your dad.” His blue eyes grow two times their normal size and it’s obvious what he is thinking. “And his name is Daddy or Dad not Ivar. You have to call him that and you should know you have the best dad ever. He’s such a superhero. It’s where you get your powers from.”

“You’re a superhero?”

“Yeah.” Ivar answers. “Something like that.”

“Cool.” He says shoving his tiny hands in his pockets in a none caring way. He was Ivar all over trying not to care. Ivar notices the small similarity shaking his head approvingly.  

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I don’t think I will ever be.” His phone vibrates, and he stares down at the screen. NIA: I’m sorry. He rolls his eyes. “Sorry for the comment earlier, shit just comes out sometimes.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to harm you or to make you feel left out. I didn’t mean to make you hate me.”

After ten minutes and Ian’s playful banter turns into snoring lightly on the couch. He sighs finally saying something “I don’t fucking hate you.” He whispers. “I’ve tried to hate you, trust me. What do you need for him?”

“He has everything.”

“I mean he doesn’t. Why is your mom keeping him? Where were you yesterday?”

“I don’t answer to you Ivar.”

“Well, your mom needs a break and he can enroll in Lothbrok Prestige, so he can be around children his age and close to both of us at work. And you have to leave that Mail Room. You have to be a mother and making fourteen an hour when your child’s father is a Billionaire is degrading. I’ll have stipend for you and find something to do with yourself.” Ivar stands from the ground groaning in slight pain.

“Why are you walking without your cane?”

“I had a few surgeries.” He admits. “And for the most part I can walk without assistance. I just hurt sometimes.”

“Why the surgery?”

He smiles pulling his hair behind his ears. “At first I thought you left me because I wasn’t man enough for you. So, I had surgeries and all that shit. It was stupid.” He dusts his pants off. “I’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

You swallow back your stupid tears and change the subject with him. “Great. One second.” You run down the hall. “Come back here.” You call. It takes him a minute, but it gives you time to get out his shirt from the box. “Here.” You say tossing him the shirt. The all blue shirt with SUPERDAD in white letters. “I had it made before you called me a bitch and fucking horrible. You chuckle walking closer to him. There was an ever-constant part of you that wanted to be with him.

He’s behind you, admiring the shirt. “I have done nothing in his life to be considered a SUPERDAD” he says smirking. “But thanks, you know when you were gone I used to think about what it would be like to be with you when you were gone.”

“Ivar I shouldn’t have,” your words are trapped when his hand grips around your neck. Your heart pounds listening to his breathing behind you. He’s erratic nearly shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” He sneers with his lips against your neckline. “I don’t want to hear your excuses or apologies.” He pushes you forward on the bed dragging his nose along your neck and then the tingles of where he had been are covered in kisses.  you melt feeling his lips on you. He flips you over pulling you up by your hair so that you’re facing him. “I don’t want to hear it. Do you understand?” You shake your head yes and he kisses you again his tongue intertwines with your while his hands grip on your back. “Turn around. ”You refuse still kissing him still until his hand is around your neck again and a grin surfaces his face. “We can do that later I want you. Turn around.”

 He’d never taken you standing up so you feel weird stripping in front of him, but you do turn around for him once you’re undressed. You feel the cool breeze blow behind you for a moment and then you feel Ivar. Ivar pulls you up gently by your hair slipping his fingers into you with ease. You’re panting as his thrusts become quicker and harder. And then he removes his fingers slamming into you with his length. It’s sharp and quick pushing you forward but his finger wraps around your hair pulling you back to him so that your hips slam against his with each thrust. You feel your ass bouncing against his hips and he snakes his arm around you rubbing circles on your clit. You drag your teeth over your bottom lip trying to stop your yelps. “Does he fuck you like this?” He growls removing his fingers from your clit gripping his fingers around your neck. You’re choked, and you wouldn’t answer if you could. He’s thrusts get harder and deeper. And your pants turn into pleas for more. “Uh Uh.... shut up.” He whispers. But you can’t, feeling him slam into you your body spasms and you fall forward on shaking legs. “You come for me already?” He grins still pumping into you. You climb the bed to breathe but he snatches you back to him throwing you on your back. “I want to watch this time.” He pleas. “Come for me again baby?”

“I can’t” You try to breathe. He doesn’t listen to you pushing your legs up higher and fucking you once more. You’re throbbing, and he covers your mouth with his and your fingers intertwine in his hair tugging hard. “Do it for me?” He goes faster, and you climb to your high and your legs collapse to the bed shaking harder than before. Your lips meet his again nervous that once he’s done this won’t be any more. Ivar comes trying to control himself and you both fall into the bed breathlessly. You watch his chest rise and fall.

“How are we going to do this huh? I can’t control myself when I’m around you. I’m not supposed to do this.” He rants.

“I don’t know. I’m not good at it either.”

He covers you with the comforter allowing you to nestle into him. “I don’t want to think about it right now.” The door freaks open and Ian jumps into the bed. His tiny feet trample on both of your bodies. Ivar just watches highly amused. “What are you doing?”

“Nana said get out of her bed.” He chuckles. “Now.”

Your face tinges with embarrassment you shake your head. “Hey, go in there with nana, and we will be up there in a few.”

“Fine!” He says leaving.

Ivar sits up in the bed. “Your mom is going to kill me, I just started to like her.” He groans. He reaches for his ringing phone. “Nia,” He answers. “I know babe, yeah, I just got out of a meeting I’ll be by shortly.” You steam anger watching him talk to her. You throw his shirt at him and he flinches at you shocked with his mouth agape. “Alright. I will babe. Okay bye.” He stares at you. “What is the matter?”

“I don’t want whoever that hoe is around my child.”

“What?” He says nearly laughing. “I don’t tell you who to fuck, don’t tell me.”

“You can fuck her. Keep her away from Ian.” You watch him laugh. “I’m not fucking playing with you Ivar!” But he continues to laugh getting dressed.

“You have some nerve… tell your mystery fuck I said the same.” His voice was SOFT, you sneer at him and once again you just wanted to slap him.

Taglist: @titty-teetee@sparklemichele @readsalot73@oddsnendsfanfics@kawennote09@valynsia @oneday-i-will-fight-luke17@kenzieam @ivars-snowflake @sincerelysinister @ivars-snowflake @suz-123 @fivesecondsofsarang @sunnyfortomorrow @2loveeverything2 @wilddrabble@letsshamelessqueen-m @kc-7 @siren-queen03 @alyse45 @romanchronicles @getinmelanin011 @doloreschanal @captstefanbrandt @harleycativy@byzantium-glytch@pebblesz892 @earthsmightiestasses @lisinfleur @unsure-but-trying @rachybakes@amethyst09 @thequintess @leaderradiante @daughterofthenight117 @jorunnravenslayer @hvitserksgirl @emilymarlow8 @perfectus-in-morte @amour-quinn@sassymcgonagal1651 @samwinchxtr @ivarsshieldmadien @bang-kim-bap @akamaiden @scumyeol @lost-and-wandering-alone @justbloodlydreaming @irishhiggins @cocobanbooom @cbouvier23 @raindrop-dewdrop @majinbuuwithatan @danceyreagan @ilvebeenabad@quaint-and-curious-being @imagine-this-motherfucker @funmadnessandbadassvikings 

[eldritchsurveys]

o81.

[[ Random Survey Questions // By @x-hallie-x ]] 1. When was the last time you realized something about yourself, your abilities, or your financial situation that left you feeling disappointed? >> I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve got a pretty solid perception of my financial situation, and considering it’s the best it’s been since I’ve hit adulthood, I can’t imagine being too disappointed (except when new video games come out lmao but half the time I buy them anyway because... like, I can, for once, and my brain goblins can’t prevent me from treating myself forever!). As far as my mental state is concerned, Can Calah won’t let me beat myself up about that, so entertaining any sort of disappointment in myself is out of the question. 

2. Generally, are you more likely to blame others or yourself for problems you experience? >> Generally, I’m more likely to blame myself than others. But I don’t think that’s any better than blaming others. I am as much a product of my environment and the other people in my life as I am a product of whatever wild magical shit happens to make brains the way they are. I can control what I can control, but a lot of things about my life are out of my control. Finding things to place blame on really just doesn’t help me fix things, so I don’t care who’s to blame, I care how it can be fixed/helped.

3. What is one thing about your life that you don’t ever see changing, even if you might wish it would? >> I probably will never be a person that is gainfully employed or self-sufficient. And, honestly, that would hurt me more if I didn’t have someone who is gainfully employed and self-sufficient who is willing to use that for both of our benefit. I was basically convinced that everyone in this country is out for whatever they can get for themselves, and if I can’t keep up with that, then I’m not worth keeping around. I’d been convinced that people saw me as a leech who just existed to suck up all their resources, and had nothing of value to offer in return. It’s a very insidious mentality to have absorbed, but the longer I’m here, the less power it has over me, so I guess I do have her to thank for that.

4. At what point in your life have you been the most social or had the most friendships? And at which point have you been the least social? >> I guess when I lived in NYC, in general. I had a couple of persistent social circles: the Streetwork LES crew (homeless/destitute youth who went to the drop-in center on the Lower East Side called Streetwork), and the vamp scene crew (self-styled “vampyres” who participated in a big underground subculture, subdivided themselves into Houses and Clans, and threw a lot of parties). Most of those people weren’t what I’d call my friends, per se -- we were very friendly, sure, and I had a lot of good times with them, but most of those people didn’t really measure up to what I’d want out of friendship (and the rest were just casual acquaintances). I guess now is when I’ve been the least social; I know almost no one out here and the people I do know are really just... friendly acquaintances, I guess? Social-media buddies? We don’t really know things about each other, you know, like friends do... I don’t know. At this age, I don’t know how friendships form and I don’t know how to find out. The Internet is where my friends are now and I guess that’s just the way it has to be until I figure out something else (or until I move to a less socially-uptight area).

5. Do you prefer to have a few close friends or a bunch of random acquaintances? Which would describe what you have now? >> I’d like to have a mix of both. I just like to have people to be social with, in a variety of ways. Like I had in New York... Right now, I don’t know what I have. I’m kinda off this subject because it depresses me, ngl, no offence to anyone.

6. Do you journal? Generally, what do you write about? Do you find it helpful to get your thoughts out that way, or do you prefer another form of self-expression? >> I used to journal. I used to be really into journalling. But I guess, instead of trying to stick to the same practices I used to do, maybe I ought to recognise that my instinct to journal has been diverted into other forms of media -- like keeping a tumblr, and taking surveys. These all exist as records of my life -- as proof that I was here, that I existed, that these things happened to me. The internet enables me to keep a multimedia record of my existence, and that’s actually more than I could expect from just one paper journal, or whatever. Journalling (on various journal sites especially) was indeed a helpful way for me to get my thoughts out, but I guess now I just talk to Can Calah instead. I think I got put off writing my thoughts down because my instinct is to keep stuff like that public, because it’s all me and I am an open book, but then people (not just one person, either, this is just a thing people do in general, and I guess it’s understandable but oh my god) would get upset about stuff later and it’d just get messy. So I got put off being emotional on the internet because it backfired on me a lot lmao. I’m working on getting over it.

7. Do you like eating foods that other people have cooked for you, or do you prefer to have control over your meals? >> I do like eating food that other people have cooked for me -- as long as it’s food I like. And as long as it isn’t like... some kind of social trap. Like, I was annoyed with Sparrow’s mother for a few months because she wasn’t respecting my boundaries and always had some stupid shit to say about me to Sparrow and I don’t play that fucking shit. So I basically stopped being nice to her. And she kept trying to do stuff like... like Easter dinner, she made it “Southern-style” and made collards and banana pudding and shit. And like, this is a Midwestern White(tm) we’re talking about. That’s not the kind of stuff she naturally makes for any occasion. And she told Sparrow that she’d asked around (I guess at her job??? or something?) about what Black people eat on holidays??? And Sparrow’s like “but you could have just asked Logan if there was any dishes he wanted to be served”. Like, it’s not fucking rocket science, I’m right here. But she’ll always do shit like that, trying to ingratiate herself, when it’s not that fucking hard!!!! Don’t touch me, don’t talk about me to my fiancée behind my back, and ask me things directly!!!! WOW! SO HARD! (Also, the banana pudding was a fucking miss because bananas are one of like 3 foods on this entire planet that I don’t like. Which... she would have known... if she’d asked me first. But no, it was just all “oh I did this, I did that, he’s not grateful” bitch I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS. STOP IT.) Anyway, shit like that I hate. But people making food for me in general is great, because I hate cooking.

8. Have you ever been somewhere and REALLY didnt like a food that you were expected to eat? How did you deal with this? Are you someone who is likely to suck it up and be polite or refuse and save your taste buds? >> Yeah, that same Easter holiday I just mentioned. The collards were terrible, the fish was meh, and everything else was food I don’t care for (cheesy potatoes and that kinda starch-heavy fare). So I basically drank wine and played on my phone the whole time. As you can see, politeness is not something I feel compelled to give if I don’t want to. 

9. What is one way in which you compare yourself to others? In this comparison, do you regard yourself as better or worse off than the people to whom you usually do the comparing? >> Well, I compare myself to other fanwriters a lot, because it’s something I can’t help. I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I’ve been writing literally all of my conscious life, and I’ve watched myself progress. I’m generally pretty fair about my strengths and weaknesses in writing. When my confidence is where it’s supposed to be, and I’ve been writing often, I turn out some pretty good shit. I like my work. But my confidence took a big hit at some point lately, and I’m not sure why. All I know is that I feel like my offerings to fandom are like... boring to people, or not interesting enough, or??? I don’t know. And I feel like I don’t have any stories worth telling anymore. These are all feelings and really not based in any sort of reality, because my friends and partner tell me they like my work and my OCs, and tumblr as a whole is so astoundingly saturated with fanwork that the lack of interest most likely has nothing to do with my content and more to do with the fact that the market is full up and people don’t have time. I know all that, but when I sit down and go “okay, self, let’s write a fic”, all these mental blocks land in my path and I get too tired to deal with it and just scroll my dash instead. I don’t know what to do, but I guess I’ll just truck along until something in me changes. :/

10. What is something you’ve been particularly grateful for lately? >> That while my thanatophobia is nowhere near fixed, it’s been a little quieter lately. I’ve been able to sleep, and being able to sleep makes a lot of other things more manageable by default, so it’s like an ouroboros (in this case, a good one; but when I can’t sleep then it becomes a terrible one, lol). I’m using the lull to try to install some better programming, some less spiral-y thought patterns, that sort of thing. I don’t know if it’s helping, but I’ve literally got more to gain than I stand to lose, so.

11. What kind of change or opportunity would be the biggest help in your life right now? >> A therapist. But... like, one I feel like I can build a relationship with, not one who I dread seeing (which has been every therapist I’ve ever had). But like, besides just the benefit to my mental health... the clock is really ticking; recertification for SSI will most likely be happening within the next year and I have no psych team. How will they know how to judge my case if I’m not in any kind of treatment? That’s how people end up cut off. :T

12. Is there one emotion that you experience more often than any other? Is there an emotion you rarely ever experience? >> I experience amusement most often, probably. If that’s an emotion. An emotion I rarely experience is... shame? Most likely.

13. How mature would you say you are? What qualities do you think make a person mature? >> I don’t know how to gauge maturity, least of all my own. What is my basis for comparison? Adulthood as it is in modern USian society is a crock, most of the time -- the way people understand it is all kinds of flawed. What are our passage rites? Who are our elders? Where do we learn how to be a productive member of our community (and not just a cog in the capitalist machine)? The people we look up to are often no better off than we are. Individualism as a social standard (as opposed to the understanding of oneself as an individual) and the division of the community structure has ruined our ability to understand ourselves in relation to other people properly. What is maturity, in a society like this? What is my role in my society, and how well am I fulfilling it? What have I learned about life, and how much of it is truly worth knowing and passing on? Questions, questions, questions.

14. When was the last time you believed there might be something seriously medically wrong with you? What was the ultimate diagnosis? >> I mean, I always think my body’s about to fall apart, even though I’m aware that’s illogical and just a byproduct of thanatophobia. I don’t think I’ve ever thought anything was seriously medically wrong with me, because generally nothing is.

15. What is one illness you are afraid of having? Do you know anyone who has faced this illness? >> Anything that involves degeneration of the brain (Alzheimer’s and the sort). And no, I don’t know anyone personally with anything like that. 

16. How do you tend to behave when you’re sick? What kinds of things do you like people to do for you, if anything, to help you feel better? >> I’m so rarely ill that I’m not even sure, lmao. I think it’d depend on what kind of sick I am, because different illnesses require different methods of care.

17. If you’re someone who rarely eats breakfast, is there a reason for this? If you do usually eat breakfast, are there any other meals you avoid or skip for any reason, and why so? >> I mean, I eat when I’m hungry, and I don’t care what the time of day is (as long as it’s not too close to bedtime). So I don’t really label my meals using “breakfast”, “lunch”, and so on. 

18. When was the last time you did something you were proud of? Were other people proud of you as well? Does it matter to you whether or not other people care about your accomplishments, or is your own satisfaction enough? >> Probably finishing some questline in a video game. And no, I mean, I didn’t really tell anyone or anything. It’s not really an important thing. Woo, big deal, video games, who cares.

19. What is your least favorite thing about the season you’re currently experiencing? Are you okay with most types of weather, or are you only happy under certain conditions? >> I don’t like sweating or feeling lethargic because of heat / humidity. I’m usually okay with most types of weather as long as they’re not extreme, but if there are long stretches of cloudy / rainy days I feel pretty diminished and gloomy-doomy.

20. Have you made any changes to your style or “look” lately? How often do you change your appearance, hairstyle, fashion, etc? Or is it a pretty constant thing? >> No, not really. I don’t know what to change. My executive function when it comes to appearance is like... in negative integers. I just... I lost the knack for it. Whatever.

21. What are some things you do to feel pampered? >> I’m not sure I ever feel pampered, lmao. I tried to think about it and I just got this tangled ball of wires regarding like, stuff I can’t even explain quickly, so I’m just gonna move on.

22. What was the last thing you felt hopeful about? Do you think there’s a good chance of whatever-it-is working out in your favor, or not so much? >> Well, the last thing I felt hopeful about was getting out to see The Equalizer 2 today, and then the whole debit card thing happened, so I actually had my hopes dashed. And all because I did what I was supposed to do! But doing what I was supposed to do means that now I have to wait for a new debit card, which means I can’t go to the movies today (I can’t get to the bank and just get cash, which is what the lady on the phone said to do! I don’t fucking drive!!!). So, you know. Right now I’m just focusing on salvaging my day and my mood.

23. In what ways are you prone to black and white thinking? In what ways do you see more in terms of color or gray? >> I don’t know, I’m mostly a grey person by necessity or by design or whatever. Sometimes I’ll think “I’m a complete fucking idiot” because I did one dumb thing, or something, but like... it’s just because I’m upset about the one thing and can’t properly process that one thing at the moment without like, making a mountain out of it. That’s why I just try to distract myself until the feeling passes, because that’s the only way to get my brain to move on.

24. Are there types of people you will simply never understand (not necessarily ~empathize with) no matter how hard you might try? Are there people you seem to understand almost immediately? >> Well, yeah, definitely. I mean, I can’t possibly understand everyone. I don’t expect myself to, either. I guess I understand people who are like me? Like, that’s logical, right? I don’t know. 

25. When was the last time you tried something you’ve never tried before? How likely are you to break from your routine and try new things? >> The only thing I can think of recently is playing Journey, because I’d never played that before. I don’t know how often I try new things, especially since a lot of “trying new things” involves either money I don’t have or access I don’t have. 

26. Have you ever “recovered” from anything? What does “recovery” mean or look like to you? >> I don’t think so. I think mental recovery is a long-term shifting of paradigms and changing of perspective that can only be truly comprehended in retrospect. I think in that respect, I’ll be recovering for a long time. This is why I prefer the small-scale focus rather than the wide-scale focus, because using the wide-scale focus too much makes everything feel bleak and futile -- we may have a more complex consciousness and a more complex understanding of time and space, but I think exercising that cosmic viewpoint frequently can be really taxing on the brain (which manifests in things like existential despair, thanatophobia, etc). So instead of thinking about “recovery”, I think about being good to myself today. And that’s that.

27. What are some ways your childhood differed from those of others around you? Do you think this difference was harmful or advantageous in the long run? >> Hm. I was raised as a “gifted child” with all the ridiculous bullshit that entailed. I was sheltered to an absurd degree for a modern child (like, I didn’t watch cartoons and didn’t know what actual video games [as opposed to computer games] were until I was almost an adult). I didn’t make my first friend until sixth grade, and I was so socially undeveloped that I ended up losing her before the year was out. I didn’t know how to talk to people, I was sullen and withdrawn, I lived in my headspace and didn’t bother with the actual world around me. My curiosity as a child was severely blunted by alienation (I guess I’m making up for that lack of curiosity now, huh). I was pretty obviously not a normal child, but no one could see that?? Or didn’t care?? As long as I got good grades and didn’t cut up in class, no one cared about my development, I guess. I think the nature of my childhood didn’t do me any favours, but I also think that I’ve done the best I could with what I had (which wasn’t much). I eventually had to teach myself socialisation by observation, for example, and I think I did a decent enough job. I can’t blame my parent and the adults around him for my stunted development forever. Now it’s my responsibility.

28. What is one thing you are really good at compared to most people? What about one thing you are really bad at compared to others? >> I really don’t know how to determine this. I think it’s too easy to judge oneself unfairly in comparison to other people, so I try not to do it on purpose, you dig.

29. Do you think people are “all good” or “all bad”? What would make someone qualify as “bad” or “good” to you, or do you simply not think in those terms? >> No, I don’t think that. I don’t even think of people in terms of “bad” or “good”, unless we’re literally playing a Fable game where you have an actual “good/evil” meter. Even then, I’ve spent most of my time in that fandom unpacking that stupid fucking spectrum and writing the characters with the nuance they deserve. So, you know. I’m pretty sick of good/evil or good/bad as a whole. People are people, and that’s that on that.

30. When was the last time you did something out in nature? Do you notice a dip in your mood when you don’t get enough of the Great Outdoors? >> I guess that’d be on the Fourth, when we went to Creekside Park to eat lunch. I... really don’t spend a whole lot of time outside anymore, and I think it’s directly related to how much I don’t like where I live. I’ve tried on many occasions to be more enthusiastic about something, anything, about Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I really fucking can’t. I can’t do it. And I’m tired of trying to make myself do it. So now I just don’t do shit. Which isn’t any better, I know. I’m just trying to make do, here.

[bookofmirth]

gotta disagree with you on rhys. yes, his treatment of both tamlin and nesta was super unsettling and boy needs to chill the fuck out, but i get why he's being a super douchenozzle. for centuries he's hated tamlin and i think he enjoys any excuse to belittle and tear him down - even when he knows he should just stfu. i think what happened with feyre is motivation, but not the only factor for his shitty behavior toward him. when there's a feud as long as theirs the reasons for your hate +

+ get blurred and you use any excuse to be a grade-a bitch. i don’t think it’s really rhys not allowing feyre to make a choice regarding her feelings about tamlin and more about him not able to be sympathetic to someone he hates sfm. and i agree it was nice his flaws were more on display. regarding nesta i think he’s too caught up in knowing how much she hurts feyre, whether from seeing/hearing it or feeling it through the bond that he oversteps because he doesn’t want her hurting. i loved +

+ that feyre shut him down though and told him to sit down and stfu or leave. her standing up to him and reminding him (like how she did in acowar) that nesta is her sister and he needs to stop being a dick to her/about her was awesome. i loved how she told him he can’t forgive elain and still hate nesta for the past, but i understand that elain doesn’t hurt feyre now the way nesta does. so yeah rhys is being a jerkface, but i don’t think it’s because he doesn’t respect feyre’s feelings.

I know that people are torn on this - I was chatting with @photofeesh and @lady-katkat about this earlier, and they disagreed with me as well. But I have another ask in my box from someone who agrees. So we all have different reactions, and that’s fine!

I get why Rhys acted the way he did, but I don’t like it. I can understand why he’s acting the way he is, but disagree with it. I added that stuff about Rhys having his own problems with Tamlin because I didn’t want it to seem like I was forgetting their past. What Tamlin did to Rhys’s family was absolutely horrible and disgusting. So Rhys absolutely has every right to hate Tamlin, and refuse to forgive. Maybe I’ll go more into that conversation at some point, because Tamlin says something about forgiveness, and Rhys responds about having never been asked to forgive. And that stuff is between them. 100% makes sense. He can deal with that how he needs.

I just can’t personally imagine seeing someone suffering the way that Tamlin was, and still finding it in myself to hurt them. And given my personal history with a partner coming in between me and family members, even with good intentions, I have a very different idea of where boundaries can and can’t be crossed.

I loved that Feyre called Rhys out. I think that’s a huge indication that sjm is not condoning Rhys’s behavior, actually, and I’m glad that she did it.

My last paragraph about Rhys not thinking about Feyre’s feelings was not as clear as it could have been, and I think that’s what you disagree with me on the most. So I’ll try to explain myself better.

I think that Rhys definitely cares about Feyre’s feelings. I think he has gone above and beyond to be respectful of her choices, her autonomy, based on what she wants. However, in this case it’s not so much about respecting her feelings, as it is respecting her space to make decisions about how she is going to handle her own relationships. That’s what I meant when I said that he wasn’t seeing the boundaries between them as people - an injury to Feyre is not necessarily an injury to Rhys. He can (and should) be there to support her, but ultimately it’s up to her to forgive or not.

Rhys’s actions are definitely colored by his past with Tamlin, by Feyre’s past with Nesta, and so it’s kinda nice to see him make some bad choices every now and then, tbh.

After I posted that ask I actually had to go back and check it because I was afraid I had ended that explanation mid-sentence, so I know it definitely could have been clearer…

Anyway, I like talking about this stuff and you don’t have to agree, I know I’m coming from a place with very specific experiences that color how I’m looking at it. :)

[equallyreal]

Unsolicited Opinion: The Characters of Pacific Rim (Part V)

Quick sidebar before we start the main essay, but who else is ready to fight Burn Gorman over his cryptic comments about how Newt and Hermann’s relationship has changed in Pacific Rim: Uprising? Burn, buddy, I love you, but you can’t tease me with these details when I have to wait another month. I can’t do it, man.

Anyways, on to the actual essay.

A common complaint about the film Pacific Rim is that the characters are kind of archetypal and flat and therefore boring. This is an assessment I soundly disagree with, for two reasons. One, being derived from archetype isn’t a bad thing as long as you do it well. Two, the characters of Pacific Rim, in my opinion, subvert or play with the archetype they’re derived from in interesting ways. This essay series will cover the ways the narrative achieves this. As a quick housekeeping note, I will only be using the film to make my points. At most, I may talk about a deleted scene, but the paracanon (novels, art of book, comics, etc.) will not be included in the discussion.

Today will be part two of the German Scientist duo in an essay I like to call, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb is Your Asshole Cat. As with my Newt essay, I’ll be keeping discussion of the two of them as a unit to a minimum, though there will be more talk of it here because a lot of Hermann’s plot and characterization hinges on how he relates to Newt.

To re-state a few points made in my Newt essay, the archetype that is shared between these two characters are the Scientist/Nerd. The general traits of this archetype are that they a) provide a lot of exposition, b) are generally ignored at least once by the main characters (and sometimes without any repercussions at all), c) have wildly eccentric personalities that lend themselves to comic relief, and d) don’t really do much beyond the abovementioned traits. Again, while the last archetype doesn’t always apply, it does usually apply to side characters like Hermann. Hermann, again, does provide a lot of exposition, and he does have an eccentric personality. His personality leads him to fall into two different subtypes of Scientist/Nerds. He also happens to be a subversion of both in ways that are fascinatingly interconnected.

Before we get to that, though, let’s cover the fact that Hermann, like Newt, actually is respected in his field and actually does get things done. Hermann has less action than Newt, to be sure, but his predictive model is used and respected by Stacker during the mission. It ends up being instrumental to the plot, and moreover they never would’ve figured out that the Breach reads genetic material without Hermann’s help. He’s not just sitting behind a desk wringing his hands—he’s actually doing things, and pretty dangerous things, too. Not as dangerous as being nearly eaten by two (2) different Kaiju in the space of a few hours, sure, but drifting with an alien hivemind and a dude whom you might not actually be Drift Compatible with is nothing to sneeze at.

Now, on to the subtypes of Nerd that are Hermann Gottlieb. The first of the subtypes is The Professor. You see these from time to time—usually British, usually wear a bow tie, very proper, probably don’t have any friends outside of their department. They’re stuffy, they’re out of touch, they probably don’t know what a cell phone is, or if they have one it’s a flip phone. Hermann does have a lot of these traits—sort of British (the character is German according to paracanon details, but seeing how they kept Burn Gorman’s accent and he says “by Jove” we’ll put him down as Basically British). He wears a blazer and a button-up. He walks with a cane (quick side note: while Hermann being visibly disabled isn’t a defiance of any archetype, it is nice to see a visibly disabled important character in a science fiction work, so jot that down). He’s stuffy about his rank, and definitely set up to be a deliberate visual and personality contrast to Newt. Newt is a punk rocker with no respect for authority. Hermann salutes military officers when he doesn’t have to and dresses like he’s been teaching math at Oxford for fifty years.

There’s one big thing that defies the archetype, though. If you didn’t catch it in the title, that trait is that Hermann Gottlieb is a catty bitch.

This is not a bad thing. In fact, I love every second of it. But before we talk about what the fact that Hermann is awful, let’s talk about the ways in which he’s less awful, but still different than what you’d expect from his character type. I’ve established in this series that most Pacific Rim characters have a line that really underlines their character. This is Hermann’s:

“Numbers do not lie. Politics and poetry, promises, these are lies. Numbers are as close as we get to the handwriting of God.”

There’s a lot to pick apart here about what this line says about Hermann’s worldview and such. The important detail we’ll be focusing on, however, is that Hermann says poetry is a lie…while being as dramatic and poetic as possible. Hermann is not a stiff-upper-lip type professor. He gestures, he prepares little holographic power points, he uses the phrase handwriting of God even as he tries to distance himself from that exact kind of language. Not only that, but he’s visibly emotional at several points in the film, showing concern, fear, and joy in a way that says he either doesn’t care who notices, or he’s completely incapable of controlling his face (either option is good). Characters of his subtype tend to be either robotic and very “emotions are dumb”, or very flowery and enthusiastic. Finding a character who tries to be one while actually being the other is interesting, gives Hermann a chance to work outside the usual boundaries of his character, and is kind of adorable to boot. Seriously, I won’t lie: I love this line to death.

And now, let’s return to the subject of how Hermann is terrible.

Keep in mind that his treatment of Newt is 100% warranted. Newt is terrible to Hermann for most of the run time. That kind of peer-bullying isn’t an uncommon dynamic, but Hermann isn’t purely Newt’s victim. He dishes it out just as much as he takes it. Even when he’s being nice, he’s mean. For instance, him saying, “Please excuse him, he’s a Kaiju grrroupie, he loves them” after Newt shoves his foot in his mouth is definitely a way of defusing a potentially volatile situation. But it also involves insulting Newt to his face, taking away any potential malice by saying, “No, he’s not being cruel, he’s just an idiot.” Really, Hermann will take any excuse he can get to insult Newt, including interrupting Newt’s exposition to call his plan crazy, in front of the two highest ranking people in the Shatterdome, no less. He barely waits until Stacker and Herc are out of the room before he starts gloating that Stacker liked his plan better. Again, Newt is awful to him, and I definitely understand why Hermann responds the way he does. I don’t point this out to say that Hermann is a bad person or anything. Newt deserves being told not to embarrass himself. It’s just not something you usually see in stuffy British professor sorts. That level of vitriol is unusual, and hysterical. I’d consider it a selling point for Hermann’s character.

It also slots him neatly into a character subtype that’s fairly easy to recognize, because it’s gained a lot of traction in recent years. I’m going to call this subtype the Asshole Academic. If you want an example, just turn on CBS and wait for a rerun of Big Bang Theory to come on. Sheldon Cooper is pretty much the Trope Codifier for this subtype. In the video “The Adorkable Misogyny of the Big Bang Theory”, Pop Culture Detective refers to this behavior as being “too smart to understand or care to understand what’s socially acceptable and what’s not”, and what that basically translates to is being an asshole to everyone. Hermann has shades of this in his treatment of Newt. It’s especially interesting to note in his dismissive attitude towards Newt’s branch of science and trains of thought. Newt exhibits the same line of thinking with regards to Hermann’s science, sure, but Newt never demands respect for his scientific accomplishments. Hermann does. He wants to be called Doctor, he refers to his “ten years of decorated experience in the field.” But Newt doesn’t get the same respect that Hermann wants, because in his mind Newt is a Kaiju-smelling idiot who by all rights probably should’ve died from his antics years ago.

(He never says this directly, but let’s be real, you can read it in between the lines.)

There are two things that jar him from this archetype, however. First of all, Newt is the only person he treats like this. Granted, this is hard to gauge when Hermann talks to a total of three characters, but he’s hyper-respectful to Stacker every time they’re onscreen, and cordial to Herc even when Herc snaps at him for griping about Newt in the middle of a briefing. Hermann seems to be the kind of guy who’s respectful by default, until you’re an asshole to him. As we’ve established, Newt is terrible to Hermann. They’re mutually terrible to each other—except for when they’re not.

That moment of when they’re not is what fully jars Hermann out of this subtype. There is a definitive moment when Hermann stops being terrible to Newt, and that’s when Newt almost dies. Hermann might be perpetually frustrated with Newt, and he might question Newt’s information one last time before being told to shut up, but he also gets Newt a glass of water and immediately gets him help. We never hear him say I told you this would kill you or hold it over Newt’s head that he almost died. While there is apparently some deleted footage of the two of them post him finding Newt, what is said between them is lost to time (also, Dark Del Toro release the forbidden Pacific Rim footage), and thus we can only assume that his response to finding Newt half-dead on the floor was to help him up, then go get Stacker without being a dick about it. That’s huge coming from the guy who could barely pass up an opportunity to indirectly call Newt a troglodyte. There’s also subtle glimpses of the dynamic shift during their conversation pre-Kaiju Drift, when Hermann is perplexed as to why there’s only two Kaiju and not three like he predicted. Newt is lowkey kind of an asshole about the whole thing, but Hermann isn’t really an asshole back. He says “I’m not wrong”, but never “No, you’re wrong, I’m right.” He says, “There’s something we don’t understand”, a comment that puts some of the blame for the situation on his own shoulders—Newt doesn’t have all the answers, but neither does Hermann, and he’s going to admit it. It’s a small detail, but a definite shift from his earlier “I’m definitely right and you’re definitely wrong” mentality.

Then there’s the Kaiju Drift. Everyone who knows about this film and loves this character has talked about this scene to death, so you’ve definitely read analysis of it if you’re a fan. One detail I want to focus on is the fact that it’s Hermann who holds out his hand to Newt, offering help. Again, coming from a guy who’s been predominantly harsh and dismissive, it’s a big deal. Sure, Hermann tries to mask it by pointing out that the alternative is the world ending, but he’s way too enthusiastic about the whole thing for it to be just duty. There’s no resignation, no hesitation about the fact that a guy he’s had multiple screaming matches with is about to poke around in his brain, no superiority. He’s nervous, absolutely, but he also attempts a fist bump/handshake, smiles, and says “own this thing” like a total nerd. Not to mention, there’s the fact that he also soft-initiates the bro hug they share in their final screen, shooting closer with a smile on his face that’s far removed from the grumpy scowl we saw him wearing a few hours earlier. Hermann might be an asshole to Newt, but he ultimately cares, and is more than willing to put aside his vitriol when Newt—and the world—needs it. That’s a hugely magnanimous gesture that you don’t usually see from the Asshole Academic.

In conclusion, Hermann, like Newt, is a bundle of contradictions—a very ordinary man who is both terrible and great, an asshole and a good friend, a man of logic and numbers who does the most illogical thing possible in the name of saving the planet. He moves beyond his archetype through his strong emotions and strong heart. Here’s hoping the sequel film is kind to him; I have high hopes that they’ll at least get his character right, but I wouldn’t say no to a character arc that’s a bit more standalone than the one in this film. Also, seriously, Burn, what do you mean Newt and Hermann’s relationship is more emotional? What does that mean, Burn Gorman?!

That’s all for this essay. Tune in next time for an essay I’m actually surprised I’m writing, in which we take a look at Chuck Hansen, the fakest Aussie in the world. If you like what you read and want to help me write more four-page single-spaced essays about the characters of Pacific Rim (not quite four full pages, but I was close!), consider leaving a donation on ko-fi or becoming a patron (links in the blog bio). Also, you should consider checking out my original fiction while you’re at it. I’m currently posting a fantasy story where half the party has anxiety and there are dragons (also linked in the blog bio). And thanks for reading!

[bioniculled]

[Trollian Log: BellwetherMurderess]

bioniculled I should. Probably come to you and apologize for that uh. Quite fucking indignant and vulgar display a couple days ago on dash. It was very unbecoming of me to do that. Let alone in such a public space.

bellwethermurderess Why? It's not exactly by business.

bioniculled You didn't seem pleased with the behavior.

bellwethermurderess Why would that matter? I don't own stock in your life doings.

bioniculled I..Don't know. I guess I'm trying to earn your respect, and. Well. Doing that shit wasn't the best way to do that, so I'm apologizing for that. I shouldn't really be doing that shit.

bellwethermurderess What shit, roleplaying graphic sex on your dash in general?

bioniculled Ah. Yeah... Or. Honestly at all, for that matter.

bellwethermurderess Wtv I don't police what you do in private. Or public either. My own porn blog's public tho not the same as my conversations blog. But what you do with yours is up to you.

bioniculled Ok but.. Ichabod.

bellwethermurderess What about him.

bioniculled Having to like. Scroll back and read my nasty-ass shit. It wasn't really right.

bellwethermurderess That's hardly the thing I would take greatest offense to regarding you and Ichabod. But if that's a consideration then that's a consideration.

bioniculled Then what would you take offense to...? I want to know so I can do better.

bellwethermurderess Frankly I didn't want to talk about this because I know I don't 'know your whole story' but frankly getting told 'I just don't know you like he does' sends off 'But Daddy I Love Him' vibes like no tomorrow. I find most distasteful, from my point of view if I have to preface with that, how much you jerk him around.

bioniculled I don't jerk him around. And if it seems like I am from your point of view, I'm not. How the fuck am I supposed to make myself better and NOT do things if I'm not told how I can correct my shit?

bellwethermurderess Oh don't fucking you. I hear you love him. You also have at least one mate already. I'm aware poly and open relationships exist and that's not the problem. The problem is have you even made sure this is something that's ok with him? Being one of many, or in a relational ghost zone? Ichabod likes you and therefor wants to please you. But have you considered  that this may not be the most comfortable position for him, being used as emotional backup until your mate comes into the picture? And I figure I'm not in this relationship so I can very well fuck off about it, but I hate hearing about you. I very much despise watching him go through this. At the risk of the comparatives that you seem to hate, again.

bioniculled I don't fucking USE him for ANYTHING.

bellwethermurderess Course not. You love him, and that's why you'll ditch on him to get nook. It may be in the past but it's not long past, buddy.

bioniculled And yeah, sure, I said I fucking love him. Because I do, I love being with him, I love the way he talks, his accent when he's tired that makes it hard to understand, how he moves, his bony hands, his fucking smile. Fuck. That was one time.

bellwethermurderess It's done you very little credit.

bioniculled And I'm not doing that again. How am I supposed to PROVE my worth if I'm not given a chance to?

bellwethermurderess I owe you no chances to earn a thing out of me. Your actions thus far have spoken loud enough for themselves. It doesn't matter if you get my blessing or not. Ichabod is his own troll.

bioniculled "He's his own troll" you say as you bitch about how horrible of a troll I apparently am for being mortal and having flaws. I made a really fucking STUPID mistake, and I'm owning up to that shit, I'm still learning! I'm only 13 fucking sweeps old for fuck's sake. I havent been aroudn for eons. Sure that makes me impulsive but I'm trying, and I need fucking Feedback if I'm going to be able to do shit right.. You know. That thing called communication? Yeah that still exists for apparent shitheads like me.

bioniculled I want to treat him with the respect he deserves, I've been talking to him about this shit every so often, making sure I don't upset him when we talk. I know it won't be overnight. I'm willing to work.

bellwethermurderess If you think your softboi routine gets sympathy out of me you're mistaken. Boo hoo take pity on me, I'm pained and I'm trying. My self loathing is so deep a prison my relatable shitposts shall be the only clue to my inner suffering that only people who take pity on me and curl me under their loving wing. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and say your actions and pains are sincere but unfortunately, that makes the damage of your actions collateral. And up to this point, it's been my lack of communication that's been my 'gift' in this relationship as it were. Because once again, I understand I am only viewing this relationship from the outside and therefor don't have a place to offer the advice if I'm not sure as hell I know what I'm talking about. That's already backfired before. And secondly, because my silence means that i myself am 'willing to work.' Because as it were, I've rended trolls heads from their shoulders for less. As it is, my only suggestion thus far is incredibly insensitive even for me considering current circumstances.

bioniculled Incredibly insensitive, how.

bellwethermurderess From what I can tell, right now the main thing setting you into spins is your lack of balance in yourself and your life. I'd suggest steps to regaining that balance in a big way, but considering how things have been recently I'm aware detailing that is poor timing. So, vague as it is, regaining balance in your life in some way. And how much Ichabod is a part of that solution will likely effect the level of strain on your relationship.

bioniculled I'll figure my own shit out on my own. He just happens to ask and even when I don't want him to worry he just worries anyway, which is fine. That's how he is, and I appreciate that. And I'm pretty sure you're talking about the moirail issue that I have. It's done and over with. That's been taken care of already on my own. My own problems and Ichabod and I's relationship, whatever it may be, are separate issues. I just ask for advice when he offers. Honestly, a good number of shit's been squared away since we last talked. Sure, I'm not the most stable guy but I try not to put that pressure on him because that's not his job. But when there's things that come up that concern him, I try to talk it out with him once I'm comfortable enough.

bellwethermurderess I'm aware most to none of the rest is my business, and that Ichabod is in fact intent on helping and protecting you despite your asking or not. He likes you, so that's how that goes. I can see this going poorly but pro tip: If Ichabod actually says something, he's been pushed beyond his boundary of comfort to twice the level of an ordinary person. He's willing to excuse a lot and has the forgiveness of a saint, so if he actually brings something up it's beyond a good idea to talk it through with him as you have been--it's likely dire.

bioniculled Look. I don't read minds, I'm not some bitchy serket. False. I do read minds but he's not a damn animal. I can't commune with him to know when he's uncomfortable. I don't know all his tells yet.

bellwethermurderess Get that. Not saying anticipate his pains cause as great as that would be it's impossible. You're already talking to him when he brings something up: just understand the level of importance it is. Ichabod, in turn, needs to speak to his comfort levels and avoid the conversation less.

bioniculled Yeah, no, I don't brush that shit off. Sometimes it takes a bit to process the conversations and figure out what I need to do.

bellwethermurderess Then you sound set for that situation.

bioniculled Yeah. More often than not it's pretty deep conversations about all kinds of shit though. Concepts. Past stuff. Trying to understand where the other is coming from.

bellwethermurderess Ichabod's been keen on attempting to initiate me on that. Surface level vagueness that is, he's not spilling your private beans.

bioniculled Yeah I wouldn't think he'd be the kind to share all that.

bellwethermurderess Yeah

bioniculled That. Conversation went places. Christ.

bellwethermurderess It certainly did. Are you surprised?

bioniculled Yes and no, honestly.

bellwethermurderess Both huh?

bioniculled Yeah. Both.

bellwethermurderess Welp. Did you gain what you were seeking from it then?

bioniculled I'm not sure.

bellwethermurderess Well, if there's more you need let me know. I need a drink.

bioniculled Yeah. Stay safe.

bellwethermurderess Sure.

[irlbop]

Finnrey, Reylo, and Goddamn Human Decency

Okay, so let’s sit down and dissect the situation since my buddo, Sithskywalker, has only been met with harassment in her attempts to do so. Initially, I was going so ask that we try and settle this but frankly and ashamedly towards y’all, I know that that is an impossible task to expect.

               Let’s start with something simple before we get into the complexities of this entire Reylo/Finnrey debacle: Reylo is, at best, problematic. At worst (of which it is most often appearing to lean toward in my observation), Reylo is ignorant in the lightest term that I can think of. Now, the beautiful thing about ignorance isn’t always intentional; in these cases, it is obliviousness and, if the oblivious one is willing, this can be adjusted. But in more commonly observed cases, the ignorance I’m seeing is done out of spite and with an intention to inflict pain or disturbance. And no, don’t go “Just let me ship it!” or “It’s my freedom to ship it!” or “But did you see the way he – ” No, no, no, no, no, no, no. There’s a myriad of issues surrounding the Reylo situation on a scale regarding what a healthy relationship is, regarding race, and your own personal consideration for your fellow man as well as the films this entire fandom is based around. If you stick around, great. If you’re seeing the same things you’ve heard before, then maybe the problem isn’t the fact that you need a billion reasons to cut through your skull. Also, trigger warning for rape, abuse, and racism

Abuse: I’m going to say this right upfront and now: I have never been in an abusive relationship, nor have I survived sexual assault. I’m lucky. I am blessed. But my experience isn’t everybody else’s. therefore, it’s important to consider the situations of those who haven’t gone through life without an invasion of personal space or emotional boundaries. If you don’t believe me, look at the media: We’re constantly smitten with the guy who “takes what he wants” and can literally shove the object of his affection against a wall and suction his face to hers. This is often done during the “chase” stage and while many (including myself) buy into it at first, if you take a moment to step back and actually analyze the situation, it’s actually disturbing. I could probably write a good page or two on just how the media practically contorts and romanticizes some actually abusive traits but I’m already on this bad boy. 

But the point is, when you take Kylo Ren’s actions out of context and mix it with the whole “rough-loving bad boy” persona we’ve been spoon-fed since God knows when, it’s easy to contort it into something appealing. But for some people, it’s not. For some, seeing Rey get smacked against a tree can bring back literally painful reminders. Seeing him trying to basically mentally manipulate isn’t an opportunity for him to read her mind about how she’s “totes thinking he’s a hottie” so then they start making out or whatever. To be frank, romanticizing this situation was under absolutely no intention of the director, screenwriter, producer, etc. It’s exactly as it’s meant to be: hostile, ambitious, and nasty as it should be between enemies. Nothing more, nothing less.          

However, it appears too many people refuse to understand this or even begin to fathom it. Furthermore, they actually take it upon themselves to harass those who express discomfort over people making goo-goo eyes at what can practically be a reminder for a very dark time for them. Someone I loved had PTSD and I can attest to this just by observing him: That shit does stuff to you. You can still smile, you can still laugh. You can even go on with your life and do what people expect you to do i.e. go to school, get a job, maybe even start a family if you so please it. But trust me: It doesn’t leave you. You can’t “get over” something that hits you so hard that it streaks right down into your soul. I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like. Many people can’t.      

But it’s for that very reason that you have no right to march up to somebody who has it and tell them to “suck it up.” Because if you’re telling them to suck up something that has impacted them for the rest of their lived, then you should certainly be able to suck up criticism over a fictional relationship that you will probably forget about once you realize that shipping doesn’t pay the bills or help take care of student loans. You can’t be petty over something that’s literally hurting somebody else, it makes you look like a disgusting waste of human. Especially since we’re entering an age where the goddamn assigned leader of this forsaken country has very likely committed those acts upon others, is getting away with it, and is basically doing every and all things that he and his stooges can to assure that it keeps happening. You know that thing that a girl in Africa made? That sorta condom-like thing with teeth that goes inside her and will shred the dick of any man that tries to put it inside her without her consent? If you don’t and want to know why this isn’t a thing here, it’s because it’s illegal in the U.S. It’s literally seen as a form of torture. So a man’s pride and literal junk is worth protecting more than a woman’s safety. Yeah.            

But I digress: Reylo has no bones to form a healthy relationship. Stop acting as though it does. Because what does have a proper foundation is Finnrey. Which leads us to …

Race: Disclaimer, I think both John Boyega and Adam Driver are fine men. Both physically and based on their personalities. I harbor no ill will toward Adam, nor any favoritism towards John. I don’t even really ship anyone! However, this is something that needs to be said because after the bullshittery I’ve seen go down on buddo’s blog, I felt it needed to be done. But geez, where do I even begin to delve into a centuries old and ongoing system bent and formed to assure Caucasian superiority on an educational, residential, aesthetic, etc. level? Hmmm … I guess, once again, we’ll start with something simple: Why is Finnrey superior not by opinion, but by overall character?         

Let’s see … Finn is Rey’s first ever friend, by meeting him she was able to eventually come to terms with the reality of her situation, thereby meeting Luke (whom is 98.99% likely to be the father she had been missing), they shared an experience, they protect each other, they care for each other, Finn literally risks death just to get her back and she picks up a weapon she previously wanted nothing to do with to assure that he couldn’t get hurt anymore, and, most important of all, they goddamn respect one another. I’m not going to bring in the fact that it’s all but canon now because honestly, it shouldn’t be this hard to express the characteristics of what can present a decent foundation for a healthy romantic relationship. Especially because if you care about the loving aspect, then you should care about Finnrey. (If you care about a lusting aspect, then you only care about sexual characteristics which can still be found in Finnrey. If you do that in-character with Reylo, however, it’s extremely predatory since, you know, Kylo hates Rey and Rey hates Kylo.)             

So after taking all these factors into count, it begs the question, why don’t more people ship Finnrey? Well, kiddios, the first term of the day is “systematic racism.” Systematic racism, also called institutionalized racism, basically refers to a form of racism expressed in practices on a social and political level ranging from and entwining into literally anything from schooling to income, to criminal justice, wealth, healthcare, living situation, who’s considered beautiful, and, yes, relationships. Don’t believe me, you can literally read articles on anything from black women with white husbands getting mistaken for hookers or watch the movie Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.          

Anyway, how does systematic racism tie into who we find more appeal with? Well, some centuries ago as Europeans started to venture outward more, it eventually become common word that dark things were associated with badness and white with goodness regardless of what sense it made (Jesus was more black than white, for example). Since then, this mindset has spread like wildfire. Or the smallpox the English brought over. In countries where dark-skinned persons are the norm, they’re more likely to promote or run advertisements with lighter-skinned people. And if they can get their hands on a white person, you know they’re gonna. This is because the white person is, in far too many cases, portrayed as the everyman. This is why we’re quicker to recognize when a protagonist is a POC – it’s just not an everyday occurrence.

We see this in our movies all the time with a white man being cast as the lead, or when they’re presented and promoted in rapid succession compared to their colored cast mates and so on and so forth.

And the thing is, this shit starts early. If you Youtube “Doll Test”, you’ll see small children (including black ones) calling the white baby doll good and the black baby doll bad. They even refer to the white doll as the pretty one, whereas its darker counterpart is ugly. The problem is, the media often does very little to help destroy this mindset so it often ends up blossoming into what we see today: sympathy for white killers, fictional or not, out of finding them physically attractive. (If you come up in here and tell me this isn’t true, I will smash your fucking face into the screen of a laptop and make you read all the bitches whining about Dylann Roof’s death sentence or how many twits wanted some other white boy killer to go free and creaming themselves after he showed up to court in a shirt expressing pride over his killing. I don’t have time for this bullshit.)

Basically, what we end up doing is sparing sympathy for lighter-toned people because, institutionally, light means good and dark means bad. (This is actually also a thing in the black community where lighter skinned people are treated differently than darker-skinned ones but this is also a story for another time.) Does this sound reminiscent of anything? Perhaps a fictional non-canonical pairing wherein people make excuses and slander the names of the characters’ actors to justify a notably unhealthy interaction over an actually more stable one?

Furthermore, while it’s becoming more commonplace in commercials and TV shows and film, the image of a black male and white female is met with criticism. I’ll admit that the reasons honestly differ among ethnic groups but for the most part, it’s usually a criticism born simply from the fact that it’s a black man and a white woman. Remember when I said Europeans began to use their position to promote ideas that pretty much raised their position for just being white? This was a favorite tactic used in America in the 18- and 1900s. The idea was that white women were fragile and needed to be protected from the brutish black bucks. A black man near a white woman would surely cause her harm! This was displayed in many forms from posters to pamphlets to D. W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation wherein a rowdy and completely buffonish cast of blackface-donning actors were portrayed in scenarios that included harassing a delicate flower of a white girl, as well as lustfully celebrating over the ruling that they be allowed marriage to women women (which received more applause than being allowed placement in government).

So where have we seen people portray a black male as barbaric, invading on the safety of a young, white female and threatening her by so much as touching her hand? Could it be … in movies where the black man is a rapist or a thug? Maybe … in real life where numerous white women have claimed assault on an innocent black man but nobody dared to investigate the matter further? Or perhaps … a disgusting amount of Reylo-shippers, who have literally gone out of their way to portray John Boyega as a beast rather than a man and actual friend to coworker Daisy Ridley?

I could go on a tangent about how insulting this is not only on a racial scale, but also in regards to demeaning the situations of people who have actually been in unpleasant or altogether awful interactions with genuinely awful people but, like I said, this is what we’re focusing on right now.

But in the end, do you know what a lifetime of this can do to a POC’s mindset? I can think of an example: The second term of the day is “internalized racism.”   

As the name would suggest, internalized racism is when a person of an ethnic group displays racist traits towards members of their culture, including themselves. This can come about in many ways but one thing is for certain: it’s linked with institutionalized racism. You see, it gets quite easy to think very negatively of something that people subtly or even outright portray as a bad thing. Even if that thing looks like you. Maybe you’ve seen far too many black people get arrested on the news; maybe you just don’t feel pretty with your corkscrew curls and earthy skin; maybe you just feel an inherent need to hold your purse close to you when you see a big, black guy walking down the street despite the fact that he’s just making his way down the block to run an errand. The point I’m trying to get at here is that there’s various ways or showing or even experiencing internalized racism. I’ll be the first to admit that I experience it. I’m trying not to; a lot of people may be. But it’s hard to undo something you didn’t know existed until recently, or what keeps growing back with the constant exposure after every time you think you’re free from it. But this is no excuse to go out of your way to keep feeding it.

So anyway, when I talk about internalized racism, you probably have an idea where I’m going with this: Black Reylo shippers, we need to talk. What exactly is it that you find appealing about this dynamic? Be real with yourself. Is it because Adam Driver is attractive? That’s all fine and good, but that has nothing to do with his character. What exactly does Kylo offer Rey? By comparison, what does Finn offer Rey? If you feel Finn, after an entire film’s worth of interacting with her, offers Rey nothing whereas Kylo, after maybe a total of 15-23 minutes (most of which involved him using his fucking unstable lightsaber on her), offers her something, then it may be healthiest for you to step away from shipping for a while and think about what you truly do respect. If shipping is just an outlet for you, fine. But you should make sure that that outlet reflects what a good relationship is to you: not some sadistic, abusive game of predator vs prey. If that is what you want, then you seriously need to stop focusing on shipping and start focusing on your psyche.

All in all, there just a shit ton I could’ve said or still want to say, but I think this is long enough and most of y’all have either dropped out or have left to write an insult of threat without reading the entire thing or considering why it’s being written in the first place. Plus, I’m tired. Physically tired, but mostly, I’m tired that this shit actually needs to be said to a bunch of people who think their asses are grown enough to recognize what a relationship is, yet end up sending disturbing content to anyone who even so much as looks uncomfortable at the crap they’re promoting. Star Wars was never meant to be this way; no fandom is. But it’s because of inconsideration and intentional ignorance that things collapse. If you still feel a need to ship Reylo over Finnrey – especially if you have to actually change peoples’ characters and basically rob them of their principles – then maybe it would be best if you stepped away from shipping and asked yourself, “What does this say about me? How do my reactions towards people who do not agree with me reflect what I actually feel?” Because if you’re still willing to ship these two when it’s looking like they’re probably cousins alone, then you’ve got more issues to work out than just the fact that somebody doesn’t agree with your ship.

TL;DR – Reylo is a result of the entwined workings of the social romanticism of abuse and downplaying of female respect and a multitude of racial issues, including institutionalized and internalized racism and you need to go sit down and think about all this and what it says about you before you even so much as try to counter it. And for the rest of you where you stand by your stretching, I quote my brother: “Just say you hate black people and go. it’s not that deep.” It really isn’t; we can see you in your kiddy pool of defense.

@sith