#▋ ▏ WHEN YOU’RE SCARED BUT YOU STILL DO IT ANYWAY - THAT’S BRAVE. • ian. ◞

[callivich]

my dear, my brother is being an asshole, so i'm going around collectong any gallavich plus Gallagher sibling headcanons you got 💕💕💕 thank u in advance

Cam! I’m sorry you’re brother is being an asshole 😤 ok here are some sibling headcanons 💖

- I always headcanon Lip is a little jealous and he doesn’t know if he’s jealous of Ian and Mickey’s relationship in comparison to his and Tami’s? Or if it’s because it’s so clear that Mickey is Ian’s best friend now. He doesn’t dislike Mickey like he used to but he does get disappointed when brotherly hangout time turns into him third wheeling Ian and Mickey. I like to think Mickey notices this and subtly starts to say he’s bored or tired or whatever just so the brothers can hang out together. Lip is grateful to Mickey for this, even if Ian does still bring up Mickey all the damn time anyway.

- Fiona comes back to Chicago sometime post-s11 and she’s sorry she missed the wedding. She wants to make it up to them so she decides to cook them a meal at the Gallagher house. And she’s cooking but everything just keeps.going.wrong 😩 and she’s fucking fed up because she was supposed to be making them a nice meal and not some crap. Ian notices Fiona and Mickey are still kinda awkward around each other? So he offers Mickey’s help to Fiona. And Mickey is like 😠 because he wants to drink his beer not be Fiona’s assistant. But whatever, he’ll help out. And they end up laughing after awhile, maybe they bond a bit with some very very light teasing of Ian and Ian’s like ok, I get it, you two are BFFS now, where’s the food?

- Mickey’s sick of hearing Sandy bitch about Debbie. It’s obvious they both want to try again. They just need a little help. Ian is unsure on the one hand….awww they’re in love but on the other, he’s not sure he wants to deal with the fallout if they’re wrong and Debbie and Sandy get angry. Mickey’s like…nah, it’ll be fine. So Mickey invites Sandy out for a drink and Ian does the same with Debbie. But! When Debbie and Sandy show up, Ian and Mickey are nowhere to be seen. And….sparks fly!

- There’s a field trip Liam is supposed to go on but when Frank dies, it’s all a bit chaotic and it turns out no one signs the permission slip so he can’t go. When Ian and Mickey hear about this, they take Liam to the museum/art gallery/historical place for his own personal field trip. Ian and Mickey spend some time googling the basic stuff Liam needs to learn and they provide commentary as they take Liam around. Of course with their own Ian and Mickey style of ‘teaching’. There’s a paper based on the field trip and Liam gets an A+.

- Tipping buys the Alibi and gets Carl to manage it. But he’s in debt and has a load of other secret problems, and now Carl is working for him….they seem to be Carl’s problems too. When loan sharks descend on the Alibi, Carl realises calling the police won’t work because….come on, they are the police. He tells them to go get their money from Tipping. BUT….turns out he’s done a runner and has left Carl to deal with all this shit. Ian and Mickey happen to stop buy for a drink and they sense tension in the air. Carl tries to be brave and tells them it’s fine and they should go. But…oh FUCK no…they’re not leaving and Mickey manages to scare the shit out of the loan sharks while Ian comes up with a ‘deal’ to get them off Carl’s back and leave the Alibi alone (e.g. they’ll pay a small amount and go or Ian will let Mickey do whatever the fuck he wants.)

I have no idea if this was the kinda thing you were looking for🙈…but I hoped you enjoyed the silly headcanons 💖

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

A Fitting Finale: Bringing Ian Full-Circle

Is everyone sick of my essays yet? Excellent. Here’s another anyway!

I’ve been trying to put my finger on what it is about Ian’s story in s11 that I love so much. It’s clear that he’s struggling on a number of levels, and he’s certainly spent the first third of the season under so much stress that it’s impacted his moods and marriage. In 11x04, we began to see hints of the tension breaking, and it made me realize that there’s a common trend in Ian’s behavior throughout the series coming to a head in his final act. It’s part of what has him so passionately advocating for Mickey to get a legal job, communicating their need to hammer out the specifics of what their marriage means, and upset at his own employment status.

From start to finish, Ian has been driven by two important motivators: love and fear.

Ian’s deep sense of love and compassion for others is well documented. We know that he will do anything for his family. I’ve mentioned before that Ian is at his best when he’s with them and his worst when he’s not. They’re his support system, and he’s a key part of theirs. They look after each other and rely on one another when the chips are down. They’re all grown up now, Liam being the exception, but those bonds are strong. They’ve matured and branched out to include Mickey, Tami, Franny, and Freddie. Ian’s heart belongs to his family, and he’s given as much of himself as he can to the people he’s been with over the years in whatever capacity they’ve needed him to.

Ian has also always been a fearful character, though not in the manner we typically visualize. He’s strong and motivated, ambitious and sensible, clever and insightful. When he decides that he wants something, he goes for it, from a South Side thug hovering in his orbit to pursuing the highest military accolades despite his small beginnings. Over and over again, we’ve seen him leap into serious and often strange situations in order to achieve his ends or something for the people he cares about. This man stole a water heater from a dead person’s house with his brother and tried to help his best friend hide a body. Certainly, he doesn’t fit the traditional stereotype. He’s not a coward.

But Ian is terrified—of everything:

·        Not amounting to anything

·        Not being worthy of love

·        Being the center of attention

·        Fading into the background and being forgotten

·        Not being able to help other people or those he loves

·        Not having a path

·        Not being in control of himself

·        Not being enough

He’s never said it. He’s never discussed these issues, except perhaps not having control. That isn’t who he is. That’s never been his way. Maybe we should add fear of communicating too, or fear of being seen as weak.

In s1, Ian makes a lot of brave choices. He comes out to three people, two of them family members, knowing how that is viewed in their neighborhood. When Mickey is after him, Ian takes the battle to his doorstep. He turns his back on an arguably easier life in a nice, middle-class neighborhood and a home with a father who would provide for him to live in the constant struggle to which he has grown accustomed. On the surface, he’s one put together kid. But then there’s Kash. There’s this man who preys on him, a middle child so responsible (and so male) that no one thinks he’d fall into any sort of trap—and Ian is desperate to keep him. He fights Lip over it and so painfully tries to make him understand his perspective, that he’s spending money he should probably be using for things he needs to buy Kash music and baseball tickets, to make him like what Ian does so that they can build their so-called relationship. That Kash is married with kids is unimportant to him; that he’s exploiting Ian’s fear of loneliness and not finding love outside his siblings, unthinkable. We know it. Lip sees it, powerless as he feels to do anything about it. Ian can’t. To date, he never will. He’s blinded by a culture that doesn’t believe such things can happen to males, and until Mickey comes along as a viable outlet for his affections and source of the ones he needs, he’s too afraid to be cautious.

Throughout s2 and s3, Ian makes difficult decisions. They’re not always smart, but it takes great strength to commit to the choices he makes: allowing Monica into his life, voicing even an ounce of his feelings to Mickey, pursuing West Point, and running away. All of them, however, are driven by love and fear alike. He’s vulnerable and needs his mother, the one who slaps Frank for shoving him and listens when he feels alone. She assuages his fears by telling him what he needs to hear: that he can do and be anything. We know there’s a danger in that, especially when she takes him to enlist when he’s nowhere near old enough, but it’s still validating for him. It feeds that need for attention but not too much attention, for understanding but not coddling, for love that originates from someone who isn’t his siblings. We see similar trends emerge: fear of losing Mickey on multiple occasions, fear that he’ll forever be in Lip’s shadow when he receives a letter of recommendation instead of Ian, and fear of never having Mickey’s full affections spiraling into fear of facing his own emotions in the aftermath of the wedding. We’ve seen that Ian runs from what he can’t process. He runs from what he can’t handle. He runs when he’s scared, especially of himself.

It continues repeatedly throughout the series. In s4, Ian is afraid of going backwards and once again losing his position in Mickey’s life. In s5, he’s afraid of being a burden on everyone around him, changing them, and losing control of his own mind. In s6, he’s afraid that this is it: his path and his goals have come to nothing, and he’s doomed to fall into the shadows where no one will ever see or love him. In s7, that fear of himself re-emerges when a patient is hurt on his watch and he has to come to terms with the fact that being better doesn’t mean he’s “cured.” In s8, he’s afraid of the void where Monica and Mickey used to be, and it sends him spiraling into a deeper one he doesn’t fear until it’s too late. In s9, he fears a lack of guidance, an indecisiveness born of having been able to rely on his hallucinations to tell him what to do. His path is gone, and he has no options. And that’s terrifying. Then Mickey is there, and he can put some of his fears to rest until they resurge with the idea of marriage in s10. All of a sudden, he’s back where he was in s5, fearing himself but also what he’ll do to someone he loves.

In s11, we’re seeing an Ian far more like he was in earlier seasons: rigidly devoted to having a plan, knowing what’s coming next, and ticking off certain boxes on the list of things you’re “supposed to do” as a married adult male. He’s spent a lot of this season seeking value in his employment and position in their marriage, and the stress has been dragging him down—quickly.

And it’s no wonder: he has every reason to be scared right now.

The thing about prison is that it is what’s known as a total institution. It is removed from society and, as such, operates under its own social beliefs, values, and norms. Like the military, another total institution, prison involves an initial period of sloughing off roles and identities from the greater society and subsequently being resocialized into a new role set. Upon release, a person undergoes the same process in reverse, and there’s an adjustment period to reintegrate into normal society. We can see that process begin when Ian gets in the car with Lip and shudders a bit, unsettled at the prospect of being outside these walls for the first time in months—going home far earlier than anticipated. For many people, it’s a difficult transformation, especially once they realize the full extent of how your life changes as an ex-convict in the U.S.

Ian doesn’t really get to adjust. From s8 to the start of s11, he undergoes a whirlwind of emotion and change. He literally loses touch with reality, starts a cult, commits a felony, is on the run from law enforcement, allows himself to be captured with one final display, goes to jail, remains unmedicated until he’s bailed out, panics at what his movement became, feels alone in the house as everyone deals with their own business and leaves him to his own devices, seeks guidance from above only to realize it wasn’t what he thought it was, can’t find answers, has warring factions telling him how to plead in court, ostensibly takes a plea deal that requires some amount of time behind bars, goes to prison, finds the love of his life there waiting for him, has to let his sister go, is released without Mickey, gets repeatedly screwed over by a corrupt PO, gets engaged, breaks up (sort of), gets engaged again, sees his wedding venue burned down, gets married, and hurtles straight into a pandemic. That’s… That’s a lot. Being a newlywed in a pandemic is a lot without all the rest of it, but this is what Ian is dealing with going into s11, and he hasn’t had the benefit of a stable readjustment and reintegration period.

He’s drowning.

He’s scared.

He has every reason to be. Marriage is scary, especially if you are so young and so in love with the person you’re marrying. Employment is scary, especially for them, because it could mean the difference between paying the utilities and running out of water. Change in general is scary, especially when it hasn’t done you any favors before.

Add all that to what Ian’s behavior has indicated that he’s been afraid of since the start, and you have a recipe for disaster.

To a great extent, that’s what I think his arc is all about this season: learning how to live again. It’s about not being so afraid of himself that he desperately grasps for any stereotypical structure for married life that he can. It’s about regaining the confidence that has always left him clawing his way to the top instead of letting life beat him down. It’s about finding the happy medium where he and Mickey aren’t doing anything illegal but aren’t stuck in a valueless spiral, scrambling and struggling to pay the bills like when they were kids.

It’s about learning not to be so afraid anymore, and I think that’s a beautiful goodbye for a beautiful character.

[tirednerd2012]

Maybe one where Ian and Barley have been kidnapped and they want to hurt Barley, but Ian offers himself in Barley's place so they take him instead? And while they're hurting Ian, Barley breaks free and has to go save him? (I know you've written a lot already, though, so if you want to you can delete this post.)

WARNING: Abusive relationship mentioned.

First off, I will never delete any requests unless it involves something that truly makes me uncomfortable. I'm recovering from some hospital time and I'm bored, so I really don't mind. If anything this is helping me go to sleep. I enjoyed writing this one, though! This AU character I've been working on for a minute for a different series I was thinking about uploading. I was thinking about a quest, but this one came a little easier for me to write. I hope you like it, but if you would like it changed, let me know!

Dammit, Barley thought, as he woke up with a splitting headache. When he tried to get up, he realized he was tied up. That woke him right up and he heard a groaning beside him. Ian.

He looked over and saw his little brother's forehead bleeding slightly. He tried to break free from the ropes, but couldn't. What the hell was going on? What happened last?

"Ian, are you okay?" he asked, but only got another groan. "I'll get us out of here, don't worry."

"I wouldn't be sure about that," a familiar voice said and Barley's blood ran cold. Drew. They broke up about a month prior because Drew wasn't just jealous and controlling, he was dangerous. He would hit Barley when they were arguing, threatened him, did anything to make him feel like Drew had dominance. Barley started to wonder if his mom and brother were safe when his boyfriend was around, and he knew he had to shut that down. He still had nightmares of Drew's hands on his neck when they were fighting one day and Barley was too drunk to defend himself. He hadn't drank since.

Drew was taller than Barley, but not quite as burly as him. Though he didn't look it, he was strong. He could easily overpower Barley when they fought. His dark hair was rare for an elf, and it was one of the things Barley found attractive at the beginning of their relationship.

He should have known this would come back and bite him in the ass.

"Drew, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his cool. His ex came down from the stairs. A basement, Barley realized. They were definitely in a basement.

"I told you, you can't just leave me. You don't get to decide that," Drew snapped. He picked up his knife from the table nearby and put it to Barley's throat. He tried to hide his terror, but he knew he was probably failing.

Him and Ian had been driving in the van. He remembered a crash, but that was it. Did this guy hit them?

"What do you want?"

"For you to suffer, Barley. I tried to give you another chance, but you've tied my hands. I don't know when you thought you had any say so in us, but you didn't. You are nothing. You don't get to chose who loves you," Drew sneered.

"Leave him alone, you jerk," Ian snapped. When did he wake up?

"Ian," Barley said. He never liked Drew, another reason Barley had to end the relationship. He trusted his brother more than anyone.

"Well, well, if it isn't Ian. Truthfully, I had no idea you were in that van, too, but hey, work with what you have, right?" Drew laughs. His attention turned back to Barley, looking at him with cold, blue eyes that sent a chill down the oldest Lightfoot's spine.

Barley told himself this is how he would die.

"Now, Barley, as I was saying, you need to learn a lesson," Drew said, but before he could cut Barley, Ian's voice cut through everything.

"Leave him alone!" Barley never heard such confidence from Ian before. Drew turned away from Barley and focused his attention to his little brother.

"Wow, Ian, never expected this from you. Tell me, what is your goal here? Why should I spare him after everything he did?" Drew asked.

"Because," Ian paused, as if desperately trying to think of anything to save his brother, "because you can do whatever you planned on doing to him to me instead."

"Ian, no! Stop!" Barley ordered, but it was too late.

Drew's eyes fixated on his brother, then back at him. He saw the panic in his eyes. Anyone who knew Barley knew he loved his brother and mother more than anything in the world. He would take any physical punishment over something happening to Ian. And he wasn't in a position where he could act as the protector.

"You know, Ian, for a bright kid, you sure are stupid. But, we can have some fun," Drew said, finally. He cut Ian free, but before he could do anything, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and looked at Barley. "Enjoy your brother's screams, love."

"I'm going to kill you," Barley snapped. His fear faded away and was replaced with anger. He looked at Drew like the most disgusting thing in the world. "Leave him out of this."

"Where's the fun in that?" Drew teased, and then proceeded to drag Ian up the stairs. His brother tried his hardest not to show any sign of pain or weakness, but Barley could feel it anyway. It seemed like the moment that door shut, wherever they were filled with Ian's screams.

"Ian! Ian!" he called over and over. He felt tears pouring down his face, but he didn't care. Ian was in danger. He had taken Barley's punishment. He was paying for a stupid mistake Barley made. He never should have gotten with Drew. It was a fling that turned into something poisonous and deadly.

He continued to struggle with the ropes. He was so angry he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins and he slammed his body against the other side, trying to break free. He would kill Drew.

He heard Ian cry out again and tell Drew to get the hell off him. He heard Drew tell Ian that he should prepare himself because he was just getting started.

Why the hell did he have to take Barley's place? The older looked around the room once more and noticed that Drew left some tools on the table. He probably planned on torturing Barley right here, but saw the opportunity to take Ian from him and knew that would be the worst punishment.

He managed to pull the table forward with his foot and then had to struggle and get a pair of scissors in his hand. It took awhile and Ian cried out more. Drew yelled from upstairs that he was worried about Ian losing blood. He heard him tell Ian to scream all he wanted, no one was around to save him.

"You're going to die alone and then I'm going to let your brother see what I've done. I'll tell him everything right before I kill him slower than I've killed you. I want him to relish your death," Drew said once Ian went quiet. Barley's heart raced faster and he managed to cut the rope. He grabbed the scissors and ran up the stairs. The door was locked, but he busted it down no problem. He saw Drew and Ian in a living room. Ian was covered in blood. His flannel had been taken off and revealed cuts along his body. His jeans were torn and soaked with red.

But Ian was alive. He still managed to set up, but Drew yanked him up and held the knife to his throat. He glared at Barley.

"I told you that you didn't get to leave me," he warned.

"Just leave Ian out of this. Let him go. I'll stay if that's what you want. We can be together again, just leave him alone," Barley said. He would stay here forever if it meant saving Ian's life. All he needed to do was get to the van. He had nectar from a healing flower there. He and Ian grabbed it a few weeks ago during a quest and agreed to save it for an emergency.

"You really are useless, huh? You're a shit son and horrible boyfriend and the one person left in this world that loves you and even admires you, you've failed to protect," Drew said. "I could kill him right now, you know that right? I could slit his throat and that would be that. He would be gone. Could you live with that?"

"You know the answer."

"Exactly. Yet I've been up here, putting a scar on his body for each time you rejected me," Drew said, running the knife along Ian's throat. He was barely awake and couldn't even look at Barley. The older felt like he could be sick. He wanted nothing more than to pull Ian out of this nightmare.

"Drew, please. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it," Barley said. He resisted the urge to bring the scissors out of his pocket.

"You'd be willing to stay here to save him?"

"Yes."

Drew dropped Ian. His abuser for months on end, who manipulated him into doing things he didn't want to, who beat him on multiple occasions, who made him feel like he was absolutely nothing, approached him. For a moment, Barley felt paralyzed. Drew walked over and kissed Barley.

He looked over at Ian and again, his fear turned to rage. Within a moment that Barley found to be a blur, he brought the scissors out and stabbed his ex in the chest. He watched his eyes widen with horror and he collapsed. Then he ran to Ian.

His brother was barely breathing.

"Ian? Ian?" he shook his shoulder. The youngest opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of his brother physically unharmed.

"Barley, are you okay?"

"Really? You're worried about me?" Barley asked through the tears. Ian had been around him too long. He lifted him in his arms and got him outside. Drew towed the van with his old truck. He knew damn well Drew thought this plan out. He wanted to be sure no one knew the boys were missing. He got him to the edge of the van and cried in relief when he found the nectar in the jar without a scratch.

He kneeled beside Ian and forced him to drink. Then he held on to him, whispering how much he loved him, how brave he was and that everything was okay. After a few minutes, the wounds healed, but left several scars that Barley imagined would either be there for awhile or the rest of Ian's life.

"Barley?" the younger asked. Barley cried and hugged him again. "I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted you to be okay."

"You scared me, why would you do that?"

"I love you. I get you want to protect me, but I don't want anything to happen to you either. Especially that guy, I mean, I just wanted him away from you. I didn't care if that meant I got hurt."

"Ian, in all seriousness," Barley said, "never take my place like that again."

"Barley."

"No. I can handle a lot, okay? I can take pain, I'll get through it one way or another. But what I can't handle is someone taking you from me; I can't handle losing you," Barley cut in, his voice betraying him and cracking at the last part. He placed his hands on his shoulders. Both of them still had tears in their eyes. "I-I thought I lost you. I was so scared."

"I know what Drew did to you, Barley. I couldn't let that happen again. If the roles were reversed, we both know you would have done the same."

He pulled his brother into a tight hug. He placed a hand in his hair and held him close.

"All that matters is you're safe. He can't hurt you again."

Barley made himself a promise that he would never let anything hurt Ian again.

[heirloommtomatoes]

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it. 

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare. 

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to. 

He kisses him because he likes him. 

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

[thewayiremember]

EPISODE 3

July 7, 09:50 AM

           All packed up. I checked twice if I hadn’t forgotten anything but I'm sure by the time I get home I’ll notice that I hadn’t, of course, packed everything. Happens every time. I just hope it’s something I won’t miss. To not my surprise at all, my blood test results are fine, so my mom can pick me up a bit earlier than we planned. Luckily for her, because that way she won’t be late for work.

           As much as I’m eager to leave this place and hopefully not be back any time soon, I have to admit I’ll be very curious about Nathaniel’s recovery. I hope he wakes up soon and goes to Australia just like he wanted. We were friends while one of us was unconscious, would we still be friends if we got to know each other? Would Bobbie and Nicole like him?

           I already have two friends and I think that’s plenty. Sometimes, when the three of us are not together and I discuss something with one of them, I need to have the same kind of conversation with the other one the next day. It’s a waste of time. But who am I trying to fool? Friendship is not really what I have in mind, is it?

           And yet I felt like leaving him something as a gift would be a nice gesture. I thought for a while what it could be, but since I didn’t have that many things to give away in the first place, I grabbed my notebook and a pencil and put it on his bedside table. I asked my mom to buy it for me when I decided to start writing this journal, but I quickly figured that a laptop and a phone are a lot more convenient. I left him a note saying it’s a gift for keeping me company and that dr. Gramm says that visualizing your thoughts helps with the way your brain works. I didn’t write down my name. Take care, buddy.

11:15 AM

           “There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge if you’re hungry,” said my mom, before she left for work. I microwaved it immediately after she closed the door. It’s good. Hospital food wasn’t that bad, but I missed something with fat.

           I’m very proud of myself that before I wound up in hospital I had this unexpected urge to clean up this room. I can’t imagine coming back now to its usual form, which is just like everybody else’s room, but upside down. It’s a little dusty, but hey, dust never bothered me anyway. I also already wasted water on taking a bath, making sure I’m a big part of climate change. And people say I’m irresponsible. I’m responsible for global warming! Checkmate.

           Okay, I need a plan. Bobbie and Nicole are coming in less than an hour and I still haven’t told them about anything and I don’t know how to do that without making a big deal out of it. My face looks roughed up but I swear it’s not as bad as it seems. On a logical level, of course, I know it’s a big deal for them. They’re my friends, obviously, they care. And yet every time they do care and they do worry it makes me furious. And one thing I know is that I can’t control my emotions and I tend to be very hard to stand in those moments.

           Bobbie and I have known each other since 1st grade and he is my best friend. He’s the most beautiful and kind-hearted soul on this planet. How on earth does he put up with me? I have no idea. I don’t think he has one corrupted molecule in his body, which I’m pretty impressed by after all that time he spends with me. He’s very understanding and I know I don’t have to worry about him pressuring me into something I don’t want to do. Like remembering, for example.

           Nicole, on the other hand, I can already hear saying “If you don’t find out what happened, I will.”. I have to ask her if she realizes how dramatic she really is sometimes. But it is my body and my memory, Nicole. You don’t have to always be adventurous Mrs. Smith who must solve the case shooting the UMP-45 all the time. She hasn’t said it yet and I’m already mad.

  THE PLAN:

Open the door like nothing’s happened. Like my face isn’t purple at all. “Hi, guys! Long time no see! What have you been up to? I need to know everything! *then I point at my face and say* What, this? That’s nothing, not even worried about it. The doctors said “Ian, you have nothing to be stressed out about, you are perfectly fine. And you tell your friends when you’re finally reunited that everything’s good, thus they shall not worry. And doctors know better so you can’t argue.”

Stop turning everything into not-funny jokes, sit down with them, and acknowledge the fact that they simply want to know what happened. You’re adults, you can handle talking about emotions, without being emotional.

Now go find some snacks before your guests arrive, like a good host you are.

  1:10 PM

           This journal is slowly becoming like some influencers’ Twitter account, where they can’t go on with their lives without updating what’s going on every 5 minutes. Well, this is the closest I will ever get to feeling like a celebrity, so let me shine.

           Dear Diary, I just wanted to update you, that nothing went according to my very simple plan. I know! How could anybody mess it up? Well, I’ll tell you all about it when I’m done hiding in the bathroom and contain my very human emotions. Talk to You later! Oh, and I promise I will never call you a Diary again.

  8:30 PM

           They already knew what happened because they came to visit earlier that day. Apparently, they wanted to surprise me in the morning but of course, I wasn’t home and my mom was the one who opened the door. She had no way of knowing I hadn't told them, but she had the opportunity to confess to me. In the car for example. I’m not upset with her, but I am upset with myself for acting like a child and not just telling them. Like every normal person would do. The goal was to not make a big deal out of it, and I made it the complete opposite.

“You say it’s nothing serious, yet you lost a part of your memory. Sounds like a pretty serious injury to me,” said Nicole, and I could tell she was being suspicious of my truthfulness. And she was correct since I’m still not sure I want them to know about the part when I travel in time. Again, I want to be a dentist, not an actor. I’m not that good at lying.

“Look, Nicole, please don’t try and make me all freak out. Can we just talk about your trip? How was camping?” I tried to change the subject.

“But don’t you want to know who did this to you?” she wouldn’t give up.

“No, to be honest, I don’t. I’m glad I don’t remember. Do you know why? Cowardice. I’m scared, Nicole. I’m not you, I don’t usually face fear, you know that. It’s easier to move on that way, I can’t cope with nightmares that I’m pretty sure would occur the second I remember.”

           And that’s true, I am a coward. And although I know that everybody deals with their problems they’re own way and not everybody has to be brave or be the hero in the story and that there’s nothing shameful about it, sometimes I do wish I were a little more like Nick. She gets things done. She doesn’t run. I mean, she does, she gets her scholarship from running, but she doesn’t run away from her problems. She solves them. Just like that.

           I’m spending the night at Bobbie’s. Like most of the summer nights, probably. And if I’m not at Bobbie’s, Bobby’s at mine. Some things never change. It’s not as easy for Nicole, because she doesn’t live just across the street as we do from each other, so she went home. I’m finishing the last French toast we made earlier as I’m waiting for Bobbie to get out of the shower, so I could go. What’s taking him so long?

  11:50 PM

           I woke up looking at Bobbie’s concerned face. He came back to the room and found me already asleep, but it was still early for him so he just lied down and started reading. He noticed I was acting weird but didn’t interfere at first. Not until I woke up screaming.

“Are you ok? Who’s Nora?” he asked.

“I… don’t know,” I lied to my friend yet again.

[teacup-crow]

do you hear what i hear?

Hey  @are-you-sure-its-me-you-see ! I’m your ZR Secret Santa! Thanks @runnerzero for organising!

It’s the first Midwinter/holiday party back at Abel since the events of Season 5, and Five and Sam are dealing with things sort of not really well at all.

Can you tell I’ve nearly finished S5 and am slightly too scared to end it because I want everyone to be okay? 😂 You said you did like some 5am and a bit of drama, so it’s a little angsty! I promise a happy ending, though. I also apologise for the first person, and hope it isn’t too cringey.

CW: blood + death mentioned

Spoilers up to the first half of ZRS5 at least (I haven’t played the last episode yet so probably a bit non-canonical)

Merry Christmas! Love Beb :)

It’s the first Midwinter dinner for a long time, actually.

Things have changed in Abel. We’ve lost so many people. Some quietly slipped away in the night, some were violently dragged from this world, kicking and screaming for every last ragged breath. The playground we all worked so hard to build became yet another burial pit.

But things go on, somehow. Our losses won’t define us. We can’t let them. We repeat the words over and over: maybe that will make them stick.

Snow blankets the roof of the farmhouse, muting the talk and laughter inside. Every last speck of Ian’s sliminess has been scrubbed from the building, and candles cover every spare surface that isn’t Janine’s huge oak table. Cameo is telling some long, over the top story, one arm still in a sling where a soldier shattered it with the butt of a gun. Nadia’s mouth turns up at the corners, even threatens a smile. Jack and Gene, back for the party, are pulling pranks like little kids - salt in water, custard balanced on the doorframe, the lot. People are eating quickly and carefully, lining their pockets with morsels of food no matter how many times Janine tells them they don’t need to.

And outside, no headstones, but mounds of earth where one day trees might grow. We did those earlier, said our goodbyes, planted flowers and talked and sang and now we’ve all moved on. That part of our lives is neatly boxed away. We live to fight another day.

I’m sitting not far from the farmhouse windows, in Archie’s shadow. She holds an apple in her left hand and a chicken under her right arm.

You should go inside, Five! They’re opening presents! I love presents!

“A few more minutes, okay?”

You’ll catch your death is what I’d say if you were mine, Sara Smith adds. I feel her tuck a hair behind my ear, and shiver. Point proven.

Oh look! Little Sara got booties! Oh they’re so tiny! They’re very purple, but I think we can forgive that.

“Five?” Sam is silhouetted in the golden light of the doorway. “You coming in?”

I shake my head. He closes the door, walks up and sits beside me, draping a coat and an arm over my shoulders.

“Didn’t think you were. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrug, leaning into his chest.

“Are you sure? Because… because I think I do. But we don’t have to. We can just sit here. Whatever you want, okay?”

No matter how many times I try to piece Abel back to how it was, I can’t do it. I squint and I can see the square where Carina did her first cartwheel, Molly desperately trying to copy her, all chubby toddler arms and legs, but then it’s the same square where Owen got shot and shot and shot and the images meld and blur and drown in blood until all I can think to say is-

“Out. I need to get out. Just for tonight. Please.”

I know Sam probably wants more than anything to go back inside rather than freeze to death in a zombie infested forest, but he smiles anyway.

“Yeah. We can do that.”

***

We leave Tom festooned in party hats and happily playing with the comms rig. Crowded dinners aren’t really his thing yet, either.

Sam watches from the bottom with a stopwatch as I pound up and down the hill, not stopping for breath, up, turn, down, repeat. Can’t think if you don’t breathe. Can’t think if your lungs are burning, crackling. Lactic acid spitting at my legs. I push through harder, faster.

“Five? Five? I think you might want to- FIVE!”

I go sprawling on the icy snow, the pain biting into my hands grounding me for a moment as Sam tears towards me. “You okay? You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

I hadn’t noticed. I roll onto my back, picking some of the gravel out of my hands. It’s not so bad, although it looks dramatic. My own blood isn’t jarring. I know it well enough.

Sam collapses down next to me, and we’re suddenly both gazing at the same stars, trying to stop our hearts from hammering. I know he’s going to talk, and I won’t be able to find the right words. I stare at my hands instead of the sky.

“Y’know, sometimes I’m walking around and around the training circuit with Sara, trying to get her to sleep, and I think how could I have done it, Five? How could… how could we have brought a baby into a world like this? Why did I ever think it was a good idea?”

“Things were different.”

I told them not to at the time. My heart soared when they said it and I struck it down with my head.

I’m not going to say I told you so.

“Things were always on a knife’s edge.” His voice catches. “I keep a brave face but I can’t stop thinking that we’re never, ever going to be safe again. There’s always going to be someone. So we won this time. There’s always going to be a next time, and one day…”

“One day, there won’t be,” I try.

“I know you don’t believe that, or you wouldn’t be out here. You wouldn’t be hearing them as much as you have been.”

Archie and Sara Smith and even Moonchild are quiet, pensive, waiting on the edge of my mind to add something but coming up short.

Sam sits up, rummaging through his rucksack for a first aid kit. He takes my hand, and I hiss at the dabs of antiseptic. “But what I do know is this. We might not have tomorrow, but we do have today. Maxine says today is the only thing we can trust. Today we’re safe. We’re together. Today we are winning. Just for today, we can let it be Midwinter, Hanukkah, Christmas Eve and New Year all rolled into one. Not the future. Not the past. Now.”

“Sam, Runner Five,” my headset crackles into life, and I pull it off so we can both listen in. “Something weird at your nine O’clock. I’d get moving.”

“Something weird?” I manage, turning on the mic.

“Zombie weird, but the sound of the movement isn’t quite right. It’s hard to…”

“Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh shitting hell!” Sam stows the first aid kit, pulls me up.

“What do you see? My visibility is poor. Do you need backup? Shall I get Jane?”

“Are those zombies on, on, on-“

Tom calls it right as we do, seconds before the first one whistles past. “Skis! Aha, that’s what the noise is! Zombies on skis! Skiing zombies!”

“Surely nobody started the zombie apocalypse skiing downhill?! How did these guys even get here?”

“You worry about running now, Yao, think about the how’s and why’s later!” Tom’s voice becomes more Commander-like as the whooshing noises ramp up. “Forward. Turn right, go, go, go.”

We run clumsily, pulling each other along, trying not to slip again on the ice. But the zombies are flying by too fast to be a threat to us, their roars and growls muffled by the speed of the skis. 

“If this is someone’s… idea of a joke… it isn’t… very… funny!”

“It is a little funny, Sam. Reminds me of a time I was in Canada and-“

“Don’t… don’t… you absolutely do not have a past experience that was like this!”

***

“All right, they’ve mostly landed in a tangled mess at the bottom, but they’re going to intercept you when you get there. Best bet is to split up and each take a different route back to the gates. That should be enough to confuse them.”

“We’ve only got the one headset,” I pass it over to Sam. “You have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Course. See you back in ten, okay?”

“Race you!” He replies, almost laughing at himself, and is swallowed by the darkness. “I need the head start!”

I’m alone. All I can hear is the crunch of ice and the moans of the crumpled horde. For once, there’s not a single voice to guide me. Running is usually enough to block out everything else, but I can’t stop thinking about them slipping away from me again. I’m alone, I’m completely alone, and I can’t breathe, and I almost run directly into the gates.

He isn’t here.

It’s stupid to panic. I’m faster. Of course I’m faster, I’ve been a runner for years. This is what I do. Every inch of me wants to go and find him

 He isn’t here in five minutes. 

Everything’s shaking.

I don’t know what to do. Did he get lost? Kidnapped? Do I look for him? What do I do when there’s nobody to tell me where to go?

“Why are none of you speaking to me!”

Moonchild whispers in the back of my head. You know I only pop up when you’re in imminent danger. It’s not like we have control over these things. Anyway. He’s right there. You’re only in danger of looking crazy. He can’t know you’re crazy.

Sam is staring at me, and I realise I must look even madder than I did earlier. Tears are running down my face, and I’ve run my fingers through my hair so much it’s standing up on end. He’s the only one who knows about the voices.

He definitely already knows I’m crazy.

“Five, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s not his fault. Chin up. We’re proud of you.

It will be all good again. Always sunshine after rain! Big brave smiles, yes?

I take a long breath. He’s here. He’s still here. Solid. Real. He wraps his arms around me.

“Sam. I really thought we’d… I’m so scared that… I don’t want you to end up just another voice in my head.”

Just a voice in your head, Runner Five? Nah, I’m so much more than they are. Our connection runs so much deeper, y’know?

“Oh, shut up,” I mutter as Moonchild pouts.

“I can’t make any promises; nor can you. None of us can. But I have a crazy amount to live for. We’ve got this far, haven’t we? Who’s to say we haven’t another Midwinter in us?”

“... I’ll drink to that.”

“Let’s get inside first. It’s so cold out here, and I want to see what Jody made for Sara.”

“Purple booties. Archie semi-approves.”

“Five, hearing stuff is one thing, but if you tell me the ghosts give you creepy powers now-“

“We were looking in the windows!” I’m indignant, and he grins.

“That makes more sense. Come on, I don’t want to miss any more of this.”

I let him pull me into the tremulous joy of the farmhouse at last, leaving the voices of the dead behind in the snow for now.

[maxhoemo]

1923 - The next day

“Max, won’t you think this through?” 

“I have thought it through,” Max told his father. Packing away what little he owned into a burlap potato sack.

“I don’t think it’s safe to get involved with those men.”

“You’re involved with them,” he reminded him. “Anyways, all I’m doing is keeping house for him.” Max’s father already thought his second job was cleaning houses and apartments.  

“Why can’t you stay here with us? Where it’s safe?”

“I’ll be safe. I’m 20 years old. I need to go out and live my life.”

“But Max... You know what rats like that do with naive boys like you. I can’t stand to think about my little boy windin’ up in prison. Or dead.”

“Oh, dad...” Max turned to him, wrapping his arms around his father and pulling him into a hug. His father really did care about him. It almost made him want to stay. “Ian promised he would take me home if I changed my mind. Look. I’ll telephone the bar every night. I promise. And I’m not as naive as you think. I won’t do nothin’ illegal.”

“I know you won’t, Max. I’m not worried about you. It’s them I don’t trust.”

“I know... But... I mean, this is a once in a lifetime chance for me to make something of myself. I need to experience the world.”

“If you ever feel scared and that scum won’t take you home, you make sure you call and your brothers will be down in a snap.”

“Thanks, dad.” Max smiled at him. Obviously there was no way their family could take on a bunch of mafia goons but Max knew his dad just had to say something to put his mind at ease. Max understood why he was scared. Max was scared too. But he didn’t want it to get in his way of what could be. He couldn’t live in this dilapidated old house eating broth every night and selling his body for quarters. He would rather have an uncertain future than to predict all of that with 100% accuracy each day. Max’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car horn. It was time.

----

Max’s breath was caught in his throat as they arrived at Ian’s place. It was so much bigger than he could have imagined. But it wasn’t just the size. It was everything. It was surrounded by a huge metal gate. The yard was filled with statues and even a fountain. Max could hardly stay focused on one thing at a time as they walked through. His neck craning all around to try and see everything. The main entrance was bigger than Max’s house. There was an enormous staircase with fancy red carpeting, but Ian didn’t lead Max up the stairs. Instead they took an elevator. 

Max was dumbfounded. He had an elevator in his house! Max hadn’t said anything yet. He was just drinking in everything he saw. Hardly believing it was real. As the elevator door opened, Ian put an arm around Max and lead him down the hall. “This is my bedroom,” Ian said as he opened the door. “You’ll be staying in here, naturally.” 

Max stepped inside, his bag dropping from his hands with a loud thud. His mouth hanging open. Ian’s bedroom was bigger than his family’s bar. 

“Do you like it?”

“...It’s...Beautiful...” Max admitted. He took a few more steps inside, running his hand along a velvet chair up against one of the walls. “Everything’s brand new...” he whispered to himself. He kept walking along, towards the centre of the room. Stopping only when he noticed he nearly fell into some kind of hole. He looked down curiously. It was pink, Max guessed porcelain. Shaped like a big sea shell. Some kind of odd decoration? “What is this...?”

“Bathtub,” Ian answered simply.

Max tilted his head, walking around the circumference looking down at it, he saw the taps and spout.  “Right here? In your bedroom?”

“I find it relaxing. One day I just thought to myself, I’d like a bathtub in my room. And when I want something, I get it,” he stated very matter of factly. Though, there was a cockiness to his tone that Max picked up on. “Like you, fer’ example.”

Max turned on his heel to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

“The other night. I saw you. I wanted you. Now here you are.”

He raised a brow and placed his hand on his hip. “Oh, I see. That it then? I’m another decoration for your room? Like your tub and your furniture...”

Ian didn’t answer. He just smiled, moving closer to Max. Max felt a sudden nervous twist of his stomach. His instincts telling him to run, but he stayed still. The thought crossed his mind that Ian had lied about everything just to get him here. He had some other intentions. He wanted to hurt him... But Ian didn’t do anything. He just said. “You’re different. None of this shit makes me any less lonely.”

“Lonely? But there are so many people here...” They had driven over with two of Ian’s goons and Max had seen other men in the house. Along with a maid and some other people who looked like staff. 

“Those people aren’t my friends.”

‘Well, neither am I...’ Max thought. But he didn’t say it. He had no reason to be rude to Ian. If Ian’s idea of making friends was scooping them up from their families and bribing them with promises of anything they could ever want, maybe he truly was lonely. Max continued with his tour around the room. He wasn’t even close to finished yet. There was a large bay-window covered in a sheer white curtain. Max pulled the curtain back and gasped at the sight. A smile crossing his face.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“I just... I’ve never seen a view like this before. It’s...” They were so much higher up than Max had realized. It looked like they could see the entire city from where they were. There were cars and people. And lights! Flashing and Neon... It was spectacular.

“I’m glad you like it,” Ian smiled, joining him at the window. 

“Oh, look!” Max pointed at the glittering CINEMA sign off in the distance. “I went there once. I saved up and took my little brother to see a movie.” It was one of Max’s favourite memories. And indeed one of the only happy ones he could seem to conjure up at the moment. But things were different now. He’d have everything he needed... And he didn’t even have to work. He turned to Ian. “Were you really serious? About wantin’ me as a friend.”

“I just want you to stay with me. Keep me company. Be an ear.”

Max nodded. 

“I’ve got a meeting starting in about 20. I gotta skiddadle...” he said, stepping away and grabbing a briefcase off the desk. “You stay in here. Got it?”

“Got it... Ian...” he turned his head to look at him. The sheer curtain grasped in his fist, covering his face. The light of the setting sun glowing behind him. He looked so beautiful, it made Ian’s breath hitch. “I was serious,” he went on.

“About what?” Ian asked.

“You can’t touch me... Got it?”

“Got it...” Ian nodded. “Cross my heart.”

----

“When Ian had left the room, he continued to look around at everything. When he was done with that, he grabbed his bag and unpacked what little he had. He didn’t even have a change of clothes. Just some pyjamas that hardly fit right anymore. He looked at himself in Ian’s mirror. He looked completely out of place in this room. He frowned. His clothes were stained. His shoes were all worn. His glasses were broken so they didn’t quite sit on his face straight. It was irritating at first but he’d gotten used to it. His skin was very pale, making the grime stand out even further. He could only wonder why Ian had seen him and wanted to take him home. He remembered the tub. 

It was so tempting. He was sure Ian wouldn’t mind. It was his room now too... Max had never had a bath in running water before. With five brothers and sisters, his family couldn’t afford the water bill. Ma had a metal basin she filled from the sink and they’d all have to take turns in the same water.

There was an oak cabinet beside the tub, which Max found some soaps and towels in. Turning on the water, his face lit up at the steam that came off of it. It was exciting! He could only imagine how a warm bath felt. He smiled to himself. If he wasn’t as brave, he might have gone his whole life never knowing. He unbuttoned his work shirt and slid it off. He folded it up neatly, but placing it on any surface of the room didn’t seem right. The room was so perfect, and Max was so filthy... He decided to put it on the floor. He soon slipped off his shoes, and did the same with his pants and underwear as the shirt.

He was hesitant to step inside once it was full. He bit his lip and dipped in just a toe before committing entirely. He let out a deep sigh as he settled in. The hot water warming his blood and relaxing his muscles. It was pure bliss. He closed his eyes. He could feel the veins of stress in his head soften. It had been so long of that passive headache he never even noticed he had it. “Oh my god!” he laughed to himself. “This is what it’s like to be rich, huh? I really could get used to this... So long as Ian behaves himself.”

He couldn’t help but think about Ian. What was the deal with him? A rich lonely guy... He supposed it seemed plausible. He just wanted a friend. But why Max? Max was so...Ugly... He thought to himself. He was poor. He was a degenerate.  Not to mention dirty... As he cleaned himself with the soap, he was shocked at how much dirt and grime there really was. He looked down at his hands as he scrubbed. His skin was dry and cracking. His nails were all broken and jagged. Not to mention black with dirt. He was bruised and calloused. His dad always said he should be proud. He had the hands of a working man. But Max didn’t feel proud. He felt shame. Everywhere he went, he wore a badge. A sign to let the world know; “My name is Max and I’m poor.” Not that it was the only sign. His ribs and collarbone stuck out very noticeably. Something his John’s loved to point out. Especially the ones with cars. Max would never forget the laugh of that one fat son of a bitch! 

“You're a twig. You must be hungry, boy.”

“I am, sir...”

“Make sure to swallow then,” he laughed.

Max’s vision became blurry. He frowned and knit his eyebrows together at the memory. The past few years had provided so many bad memories. He wished he could just wash them away like the dirt on his skin. All the men and women who had known him. Who had hit him. Beaten him. Tied him up. The woman’s husband who had pointed a gun at him. The man with the knife that had come out when Max asked for his pay. He can still feel the blade on his skin. The humiliation. 

He remembered being completely naked in the back of a bar. On his knees. Surrounded by four well dressed men. They had kept him an extra three hours. What could Max do? There was only one of him...

But how could Max forget his most famous, and evil, client? The pain in his hips, being fucked up against the Mayor’s desk. Then he woke up, face down on the pavement on a street he didn’t recognize. The other hookers told him later he’d been drugged for sure. The mayor didn’t want Max to remember anything. But Max did remember. And he only wished he could forget. Not just him. Everyone. Their words echoed through his head.

Max wiped the tears from his eyes. He couldn’t let Ian see him like this. He would know how weak he was. Nobody could know how weak he really was.

“Max.”

Max jumped at the sudden voice. Interrupting his own thoughts. He wiped water on his face in an attempt to hide the obvious fact that he’d been crying. 

“Couldn’t wait to try it out, huh?” Ian laughed. He seemed amused. Max was almost insulted. Like it was ‘cute’ that Max had never taken a real bath before. Not that Ian could really know that. “How is it?”

“It’s very nice,” Max said honestly. As Ian walked further into the room, Max covered his crotch under the water. He didn’t want Ian to see him naked. 

Ian began to undress. Max couldn’t believe how many layers of clothes he wore. Suit jacket, vest, shirt, undershirt, pants, long johns, socks...Max only had his bare skin under his clothes. Unless he was lucky enough to have a coat. 

“Umm...” Max started. “Could you... Turn around...?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m getting out and I don’t want you looking at me! That’s why!” Max snapped. Autonomy over his body was something he had come to value when he could have it. And he had to make certain that here, he could have it. Ian complied with his request, and Max felt a weight lifted from his chest. He stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Alright.” Ian turned around and kept on with what he had been doing. As Max stepped onto the other towel he had laid out before, he suddenly thought of something. “Ian...”

“What is it?”

“How does... I mean... How do you get the water out...?” At home, they just poured it out in the backyard. But you couldn’t lift this tub.

Ian didn’t laugh this time. Instead, he gave Max a warm smile and took him by the hand. Leading him over to the faucet. “I’ll show you, You just lift this part here, and...” Max heard a sound as the water started to lower. Max nodded. It wasn’t really a bath tub. It was just a giant sink. At least, that’s how he understood it. 

“Where am I to sleep?” he asked.

“My bed, ‘course.”

Max frowned.

“What’s the matter, little bird?” Ian’s tone was of honest sympathy.

“I don’t wanna sleep with you...” Max said quietly.

“I won’t touch ya’.” Ian assured.

“I just...” As Ian looked into Max’s eyes as he spoke, he saw unmitigated fear. Ian could tell Max was scared of something. Something more than having a hand on his chest in the night. 

“You sleep there. I’ll sleep on the sofa, alright?”

Max looked behind him. Ian’s furniture was all so ritzy, but it didn’t look all that comfortable. “Are you sure...? For real..?”

Ian nodded. “It aint no problem for me.”

“You’re being straight right now?”

“‘Course. Really. You take the bed.”

“Thank you Ian...” 

----

 The next morning, Max was awakened by a powerful smell. His stomach rumbled as his eyes slowly opened.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Yes...” Max nodded. “I’ve never slept in a bed so soft before.” He smiled sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I’m hungry...” It came out as a whine.

“Well, come eat.”

He looked over at Ian. There was that smell. Sausages and toast. Butter, milk, juice... All spread out on the table in fancy blue china. Max couldn’t believe it. He took a seat next to Ian, wolfing down as much as he could.

“Slow down. It’s not going anywhere, you know.”

“I’m sorry...” Max said through a mouthful of toast. “I just never... My family don’t do breakfast.” Especially not like this. “Thank you.”

“Don’t. I like givin’ things to you.”

“And why is that?”

“Not really sure. Guess it just makes me happy to see ya’ gettin’ nice stuff you couldn’t have before.”

Max continued eating as Ian got ready for the day. He felt a little bad when he realized he hadn’t been listening as Ian explained what he was off to do. “If you get hungry again, just ask the gal in the kitchen. She’ll make ya’ anything you want.”

Max blinked. Anything? Any time he wanted? Max wiped his mouth with his hand when he finally decided he was full enough. Though when he got up he soon realized his clothes weren’t where he left them. “Hey... Where’s my shirt and pants?”

“Laundry. The maid’ll bring em’ back in a couple hours. Those are your only clothes, aren’t they?”

“Yeah...” Max admitted.

“Here. Come ‘ere...” Ian called him over. He reached into his inner pocket and handed Max a stack of bills. Max’s eyes went wide as he took them. It was more money then he’d ever seen. “Take the streetcar downtown and buy yourself some clothes and whatever else ya’ like.”

“What? Really?”

“I told you I wanted ya’ to have anything ya’ wanted.”

“Oh my God... Thank you, Ian!”

“Please. Stop thanking me. It’s nothing.”

“No. No, it really isn’t nothing...” Max couldn’t even remember the last time he had new clothes. But this was so much money. If he went shopping, he could quite literally have anything he wanted. And it was all just beginning. 

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Fanfic Author Appreciation

My turn to give a little love and show gratitude for my fanfic fam. ♥

You are brave as shit! By nature, writing is very personal. You write what you know, and you pull from your emotions. Posting it, as well as your prose for the world to freely critique takes more guts than most people realize. And don't get me started on smut... you're probably red-faced when you hit that submit button, but you fucking do it, anyway! Hell yeah!

You invest hours (upon hours) of your time. Not just with writing, but with researching, outlining plots, editing, and brainstorming. It's only other writers who truly know the price you pay to produce something just for comments and the ability to engage with other fans.

You are selfless. You write for yourself and you're sharing your work with the world for free. FOR FREE!! How could anyone complain?! And yet...

You push on despite the occasional negative feedback. It can be daunting, especially when people pop up just to insult some aspect of your work. It's totally unfair that these comments seem to affect you more than all the good ones - but please know that these people are wrong. There is a right way to critique someone, and if a comment ever upsets you, they’ve definitely done it the wrong way, and they sure as fuck don't deserve the right to upset you!

You push on despite occasional lukewarm responses. Sometimes it's harder to get noticed (for whatever reason). Sometimes your most dedicated readers just disappear without warning. New people are destined to find you and love you, even if it takes longer than you'd like. You absolutely have readers who are grateful that you hang in there despite not getting the praise you deserve.

You push on despite insecurities. You might not be a perfect writer (who is?), but with each chapter or drabble, you're practicing. There's nowhere to go but up. Whether or not you think someone is a better writer than you, there is absolutely something you excel at, something others envy about you and your voice and creativity is essential to the fandom.

You help provide an escape. There are people who are reading your fics right now who feel lonely, upset, or maybe they're just having a bad day and you're helping them. They may be too scared to comment... but they're there. And you're part of their life whether or not you even know it.

You help encourage creativity. There is someone out there who has read your work and is considering writing because of you, or maybe they already have! Maybe they're already a writer, but you're so good at character development or world-building that you've shown them completely new techniques... Whether or not you know it, you’ve already helped influence those who’ve read your work.

Last but not least - To the bilingual fanfic authors who write in their non-native language... Holy shit!! You guys are fucking amazing. Many of you step outside of your comfort zone to bring a story to life, sometimes in a language you don’t feel 100% confident in or might even still be learning. Damn, do I admire you! (Shout-out to these lovely ladies whose talent transcends multiple languages: @toaquiprashippar @thescarletgarden1990 @filhadoboto !)

And on a more personal note: To @muttpeeta whose "Bittersweet" fic made me fall in love with fanfiction in the first place, who made me want to try my hand at writing, too - Discovering you inadvertently changed my life in several positive ways and I can't thank you enough. I am in awe of your work and wish you all the best in finding success as a writer. You fucking deserve it! ♥

Since this is already long enough I’m going to just make a little list of all of the writers I admire and want to celebrate:

@allegre17 @ktwrites @fourtrishea @northernlights37 @daenerys1417 @meisiesmut @phoebemaybe @too-much-jonerys @iane-casey @got-addict @lawonderlandwriter @mhysaofdragons @the-last-targaryens @revansnow @notpmahalem @thesparkles59 @ashleyfanfic @xxthewolvenstormxx @opensky7 @iamthewatcheronthewall @fierypen37 @ladyofdragonstone @blue-roses-in-a-wall-of-ice @drakhus @noordinarylines @starkgaryen4life @smoldany @freshhexes @zae82 @stormborn930 @gotarcher94 @akurotori @jonerysbitch @ellimomo @draggygurl & @callmedewitt Y’all rock!! ♥

To anyone still reading... Never take your fanfic authors for granted! If you love a story, let them know. If a line hit you in the feels or made you laugh, let them know! Literally every single fanfic writer I’ve ever spoken to has been so kind, appreciative and approachable. You never know what someone is going through, and your comment might just be what they need to pull them from a creative rut or writer’s block. Your comment might make their entire day. You might even make a friend or two while you’re at it! (I know I have!)

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Peace

Day 10 of 31!  @doctorroseprompts

Ficmas Masterlist 2017, Day 10

AO3

@timepetalsprompts - Bingo, Tennant mussing his hair

Post-ep for Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel.  The show they reference is Psych, specifically (spoilers) season 5 episodes 9 & 10 (which aired 7 years ago).  To summarize (cause it’s not critical) - Juliet is a police detective, Shawn is a Sherlock Holmes-ian level observer, who pretends he’s psychic, not smart.  They (naturally) have a will-they, won’t-they - these episodes are when that question is answered.  It’s cute, and campy, a lighthearted taken on a procedural.  (Highly recommend.)

This brings me to the prompt - a kind nonny sent in the below.

For the prompt-y-ness, how about Nine and Rose, smutty, fluffy too if you wanna, something related to pineapples, and a discussion about the benefits of teddy-bears. :D Also, Jack or no Jack, up to you. I'm easy ;)

So, as I said here I was inspired by your prompt, but writing took me in a few different directions.  I did hit most of them!  (sort of).  This is going to be a two-parter, paired with ‘Joy’ on the 17th (next Sunday) - that will be the smutty part.  If you’ve every watched/heard of Psych, you know that pineapples are a Big Theme in the show.  Teddy bears are definitely duscussed!

The biggest deviation is your request of 9 - with my multi-chapter 9xRose smutfest All I Want for Christmas Is You (Naked), I’m keeping away from 9 for 31 Days of Ficmas, if only so as to not confuse myself.  Therefore, this is (obviously) Ten.

Now that the rambling is out of the way, let the fic begin!

The sequel, Joy, can be found here.

After her shower to wash over the stench of that other, strange universe, Rose slunk into the media room to curl up under the blankets in front of the telly.  She had only just situated herself when the Doctor walked in, dressed in pajamas as well.

“Hey,” he greeted her hesitantly, shuffling his feet beside the couch.  “Can I join you?”

She didn’t answer, just scooted towards the middle of the couch allowing him to sink into his usual seat. For the first time since France she leaned into him, nestling her head over one heart.

Surprised but happy, the Doctor brought one arm down to wrap around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair.  “You know, we haven’t watched anything in a while…” he offered hesitantly, and sighed in relief when she immediately nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The TARDIS dimmed the lights, starting the projection.

“Remind me where we were?” Rose asked, and the video paused.

The Doctor cleared his throat, looking down at her to see her staring straight ahead, a sad, resigned look on her face, and for as bad as he is at this, he knows she expects him to recap the last episode’s case, and not the heightening romantic situation between the main characters.

“Well,” he started slowly, “our fearless, genius protagonist has long since come to the realization that despite everything, he’s fallen hopelessly in love with his- partner. But he knows that said beautiful, kind, smart, funny partner deserves so much more than the little he has to offer. So he’s desperately trying to throw roadblocks between them, so she can’t see his feelings.  But somehow despite his best efforts, she seems to know anyway.”

Rose looked up at him, eyebrow raised.  “His best efforts?  He told her straight out, though not in so many words.”

The Doctor was silent for several long minutes, arguing with himself before all the fight went out of him in a rush.

“I’m not talking about Juliet and Shawn, Rose.”

She tensed in his arms. “Doctor…”

“Let’s just watch, yeah?” He begged the TARDIS to start playing it, and she did; Rose huffed but settled down, content enough to watch Shawn and Gus chase their tails around British Columbia.

By the time Shawn found Juliet at the overlook, Rose had tears in her eyes and was sniffling, bursting into full-on sobs when Shawn walked away.  They quickly turned to giggles, however, at the couple’s snogging misadventures.

As the lights came back up, Rose tilted her head back against the Doctor’s chest so she could see him.  “They’re together!”

“They are,” he agreed, glad to see her smiling.

“That was so cute,” she sighed happily.

He hummed in agreement, feeling oddly jealous of a fictional character’s happiness.

Pulling back Rose looked at him, and he stared back at her.  It seemed like she was waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t know what, so he fumbled.  “Well, it’s been a late night…”

“Yeah,” she drooped, looking sad.  “Good night.” Not waiting for a response, she marched out of the room, leaving him behind.

“What did I do wrong?” He wondered aloud, but no answer came.

-

Wide awake, Rose lay in bed cuddling her bear close.  She liked to think at twenty-one she was too old and mature for a stuffed animal, but after rough adventures her childhood companion was a good substitute for who she’d rather snuggle with.  She’d already cried herself out, and was now waiting in vain for sleep to claim her.

When her door creaked open, she sat up.  “Doctor?”

“Oh!”  He looked surprised, freezing in the doorway. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am.  Why’re you coming into my room?”

“Oh, is this your room? I thought it was the loo.  Never mind, sleep tight.  Bye!”  He tried to run, but she called him back.

“Doctor!”

He slowly shuffled back into view, ruffling his hair.  “Yes?”

“Did you need something?”

“No, I told you-”

“Your first reaction wouldn’t be surprise that I’m awake unless you meant to come into my room.”

He grimaced, looking longingly out the door.  “I just- I just- I wanted- I needed to see you,” he eventually mumbled.

She bit her lip, debating for only a moment before lifting the sheets.  “Want a cuddle?”  He brightened considerably, fumbling off his slippers and robe before practically diving in beside her.

Entirely uncaring of the concept of personal space, he immediately wrapped himself around her, pulling her in tight.  This left her bear smushed between them, making him look down at it and frown. “What’s this?”

“My bear,” she shrugged, blushing.  “I’ve had him since I was little – my dad gave him to me.  I like to hold him when I’m sad or scared.”

“I see,” he said wisely, nodding.  Then he frowned.  “What’re you sad or scared about?”

“I’m not scared,” she rushed to say, burrowing down into his embrace.

“Then you’re sad – why?”

“Doctor…” Rose sighed. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want to talk about this – so can we not?”

“Is this because I’m a coward?”  In the darkness of the room, the only sound their breaths, it’s a little easier to be brave.

Rose snorted.  “You’re the bravest man I know.”

“Rose.”

She toyed with the buttons on his nightshirt.  “I get it, I do.  You made it perfectly clear last week outside that chippy.”

“Rose-”

“I’m not done.”  She looked up at him, and his hearts stuttered at the tears he could just make out.  “I know I could quote the whole ‘better to have lo- done so and lost than never to have at all’, I could make promises I can’t keep, but that’s not something you should have to be convinced into.  And I really do understand, maybe more than you do.  I don’t want to hurt you, not now and not for the rest of your existence.”

“But?”  He prompted when she stayed silent.

“But… can you honestly tell me it won’t hurt as much if we don’t?  Whether or not we… we act on these feelings, we acknowledge them, that doesn’t change the fact that they’re there.  If it’s going to hurt the same either way – well, wouldn’t regret for not acting outweigh the pain of having it all and losing it?  If no pain is saved, aren’t you better off with the happier memories?”

When he didn’t reply, she sniffled.  “All I’m saying is, I don’t want you to regret missing out on that kind of happiness. I’m going to stay with you as long as I can, and if it’s never more than what we have now then I fully accept that because your friendship is more important, but bloody hell Doctor – you deserve as much happiness as you can get, and I want to give it to you.  We’re not designed to be alone forever.”

When she looked up at him, he was already staring at her with that calculating look in his eyes.

In a move too fast for her to see, he rolled them over so she was flat on her back, and he held himself above her, barely an inch away.

“You have to understand, that if we begin this I can’t stop it and I can’t go back,” he said conversationally.  “My species – physical relationships were almost sacred, and certainly not done lightly. It’s far more a commitment than in your species, especially in your era.”

“I don’t want to go back,” she said bravely, before frowning.  “Physical relationships?”

“Sex,” he said bluntly. “Let’s not play pretend – that’s the only difference between our relationship and most ‘romantic’ relationships, as you know them.”

“Is it?”

“Rose,” he growled, “you know that perfectly well.”

“So, are you saying you want to be together?  Properly together?”  She didn’t try to hide the yearning in her voice.

He pulled back slightly. “I’m not doing this right,” he muttered, before sighing.  “Rose, I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend – I’m telling you that for me, what you’re asking for is the equivalent of marriage.  Tied together forever, mind body and soul.”

“Mind?”

“An unbreakable bond – we’d see the very soul of each other, be open books.  I wouldn’t necessary see every thought that passed through your mind, and we could still keep secrets, but we’d know each other on the most fundamental level.  D’you remember a few weeks ago when I had to check your mind after the werewolf?  It would be like that, but permanent and deeper. Much deeper.”

He knew this would be the dealbreaker; he’d never forgotten her reaction to the TARDIS translation matrix, and was prepared for her to pullback.

He was so ready for rejection, actually, that it took several moments for her actual reaction to process.

“Can we do it now?”

“What?”

“The bond – marriage – whatever you call it, the mind-sharing thing, can we do it now?”

He stared at her, surprise, amazement, and joy written all over him.  “Really?”

“Yes,” she breathed, before frowning.  “Hang on-”

Before he could pull back, she wrapped her arms around his waist to anchor him close.  “We’ll still have our independent minds, right?  I’m picturing it as an open border, like a bridge or something – is it more than that?”

“Uh, no.  Actually, that’s an excellent metaphor.”

“Then, what do I do?”

“Um,” flustered, he fell to his side, and she shifted to face him.  “Bring your hand to my temple – right, just like that – then do as I do.”

He carefully walked her through the process, marveling at every step at how easy it was, how naturally she followed his instructions; if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was already telepathic.

Finally they stood together in their minds, holding hands and looking at the two brightly burning timelines.

“That’s gorgeous,” Rose said softly, looking between them.  “Which one’s me?  I can’t tell them apart.”

“Neither can I,” the Doctor breathed, hope beating a frantic double drum in his chest.

“What’s it mean?”

“Those are our timelines – there should be a noticeable difference.  Mine should be thick and bright gold, completely woven in a, well, mess. Yours should be much lighten and thinner, a tangled knot in the middle but smooth on either side.”

“And what’s it mean?” She repeated, looking up at him.

“I think it means our worries about me going on without you may be for nothing,” he said, awe in his voice.

“I’m going to live as long as you do?”

“Yeah.  My best guess is Bad Wolf – that’s the only possible explanation, really.”

“I bring life,” she murmured, and the timeline in front of her flared brilliantly.  “There we go, then.”

“Last chance to back out,” he told her.  “Or at least to wait; I can run tests-”

“Finish it,” she interrupted.  “Tie us together, and then let us get on with our wedding night.  You can poke and prod tomorrow.”

He did so, guiding her through the motions until both timelines flared, before merging together.

Coming to with a gasp, Rose blinked her eyes open to meet the Doctor’s.

“We’re married?”  She asked, and he nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“We’re married!”   She burst into giggles, a few tears escaping.

A feeling he’d never known swept over the Doctor like a tidal wave, and he was amazed at how quickly things had changed.  As he looked at his new wife, however, his hearts calmed.

At last, he was at peace.

[my-time-and-place-blog]

My Vidcon EU 2017 experience

In August last year, I discovered that Vidcon EU would be organized in Amsterdam. When the early bird ticket sale started I didn’t hesitate for a moment and I bought myself a community ticket. I also participated in the Meet & Greet Lottery and I was assigned to meet Dodie Clark, Oli White and Niomi Smart!! I was very happy with that since Dodie and Oli were my first and second choice, respectively.

DAY 1

On Saturday April 8th I decided to leave the house extra early at, since I had my Meet & Greet with Oli White at 9.30am and I had to pick up my M&G wristbands. I wanted to take the bus at 7.15am, but I totally forgot the bus schedule is different at the weekends (sigh). My sweet mum brought me to the nearest bus station, from where the bus to Amsterdam departed.

When I arrived at the venue RAI Amsterdam conventions centre around 8.30am, I could immediately wait in line for the M&G wristbands since I picked up my community badge the day before. I waited about an hour and a half in line before it was my turn and I was a tiny bit afraid that I wasn’t on time to queue for Oli’s M&G, but I was! By the time it was my turn I was nervous, but I felt calmer than I thought I would be. Oli is so nice! We took a professional photo and I gave him my present and the card. We ended with a hug. That were my 30 seconds of meeting him. It felt so strange to meet someone you’ve been watching for years. As a fan I have the feeling that I know him very well and he knows nothing about me, when I’m thinking about it. I’m just a face in the crowd for them. But anyway, that didn’t make the experience any less great.

After the M&G I went to some panels. I saw the last bits of The Power of Community with Tyler Oakley, John Green and Kati Morton. After that, I went to a panel participating Ricky Dillon, Mamrie Hart and Michael Aranda about ‘Being your true voice’  moderated by Michael Gardner. Hearing these people talk about their experiences of finding their ‘true voice’ in this profession inspire me to find my own ‘true voice’ and let me think about who I am and what I want to pursue in life.

There were a lot of stands and interactive things you could do during the day between panels. There was a Musical.ly stage, where different people performed, who are famous on Musical.ly I guess?? Furthermore, there were different booths from different sponsors and movies and bouncy castles. At one of the booths I met Evan Edinger and I took a picture with him and he signed my badge. He was very nice!

I went to the Q&A of Ian Hecox and Anthony Padilla aka SMOSH. Even though I didn’t know them, I got a very good sense of how they are and what kind of content they make. They were fun to watch. I queued for Dodie’s M&G immediately after the Q&A. There were a loooot of people in the queue. I didn’t think it would be so long, but it didn’t matter, because I was going to meet my favourite youtuber/artist. When it was my turn, I gave Dodie a hug and I gave her my presents. We talked about the card I gave her and how that reminded me of her. She signed my badge and I almost wanted to go, when she said: We didn’t take a photo, did we? At that moment I could facepalm myself so hard. We took a very cute picture together. I mean how can it not be cute with her in it?

Meeting Oli and Dodie made me realise that they are just people just like I am. They are just normal, very hardworking people that accomplished more in 21 years then I did. But somehow they show me that it is possible to follow your dreams, if you are willing to work hard. Another creator I’m really impressed by is Tyler Oakley. I went to see his Q&A. He is such a loving, caring and funny person. He seemed to enjoy every question he got and I really admire him for his active role in the LGBTQ+ community.

The last thing of the day was the Saturday Night Featured Creator Show. Most of the seats (900+!!) were filled and all the people were enjoying themselves during all the performances. Kati Morton and Scola Dondo gave a very inspirational speech about mental health and that it is okay to talk about it in some way, about being ‘luscious’, being yourself. Dean and Jack showed a preview of their new season of Jack and Dean Of All Trades, which was very funny. Savannah Brown performed one of her poems and I was very impressed by that. I felt every word she said. Sarah Close performed some songs of her new Caught Up EP.

Two performances that evening were very special to me. One of them was Carrie Hope Fletcher performing ‘Pulled’ from the musical the Addams Family, in which she plays Wednesday Addams. Woow! She can siiiing! She is such an inspiration to me. She literally lives her dream and that on its own drives me to follow my dreams. (I don’t mind that this all sound very cheesy haha) The other performance that really got stuck with me was the last of the evening by MatPat. He opened up about his fear of flying. Long story short, years ago he was in England for an audition for a West end production and his actual flight home to the US, which he missed, was the target of an terrorist attack. The moral of his story was that even though he is still very scared, he didn’t let it define his life. That day he fulfilled a wish of a little boy organised by the Make-A-Wish foundation. That was all such a beautiful speech, I cried. That was the end of a very successful day 1 of Vidcon EU!

 DAY 2

Day 2, Sunday 9th of April, started ironically the same as the day before. The bus I wanted to take wasn’t leaving at the time I wanted to leave. Now my lovely dad brought me to the nearest bus station. Today I would have the M&G with Niomi Smart, but due to a sad event that happened that morning I didn’t feel like queueing, so I left that out. I went to some very good panels instead and I don’t have any regrets for that since the atmosphere was so care free and easy-going. That really helped me not being sad or even thinking about the event.

I started the morning with coffee and the panels A Conversation About Mental Health and There Is A Troll in the Dungeon both moderated by Kati Morton. I didn’t know most of the attendees on the panels, but that was a way for me to get to know new youtubers really. The things I have learned of these panels are: it is good to talk about mental health and if there is no connection between you and your therapist, find another one that you’re comfortable with. Another thing is dealing with trolls. These people are probably just projecting their problems on you, so don’t take their criticism/offenses (too) seriously.

After these quite serious topics I went to the Holy Trinity Q&A. The Holy Trinity, for who doesn’t know who they are, are Grace Helbig, Mamrie Hart and Hannah Hart. They are seriously so funny together and they certainly brightened up my mood.

One highlight of the day was the LGBTQ+ in Online Video panel. I think a lot teens and tweens have been in a situation where they question their sexuality and so do I. It is very important to keep talking about the LBGTQ+ community and as important to educate ourselves about sexuality and the whole spectrum. I want to salute the internet and especially platforms like Youtube (please, fix restricted mode tho…) and Tumblr for bringing up the subject and education. One other thing that happened during the panel that moved me, was a question of a boy in the audience. The boy had got a rainbow flag around his shoulders. He told that he lived in a town that was very religious and the community wasn’t very accepting to LGBTQ+ people, so were his parents. He asked how he could out himself to his parents in this situation. I think he was very brave to ask this question. He got good answers like if you tell them, have a place you can go to after or if the situation escalates. He started crying and I could tell that it was a very big deal to him. I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. That question broke my heart to be honest.  And therefore, I absolutely love the fact that he can be totally himself at events like Vidcon. Although, he should be able to be himself anywhere at any time in my opinion.

I also went to a panel about Race & Representation in Online Video, mainly because I wanted to know what I could do as a white female. This panel thought me that starting the conversation or keeping the conversation going about race is a great help to the people who deal with racism or other negativity with respect to race. After that I went to the Rhett & Link Q&A, which I didn’t enjoy that much. I think it was mainly because I didn’t know who they were and I knew nothing about their content.

The Sunday Night Featured Creator Show was an amazing way to end the Vidcon weekend. The highlights of the show were Dodie and Jon Cozart singing their songs. The Fine Bros showed us their newest video before it was released. The Holy Trinity did a funny quiz about their trip in Amsterdam. There was some food tasting on stage and some live gaming on stage. John and Hank Green closed the show with a little speech about Vidcon and how their experiences were of the first Vidcon EU in Amsterdam! I dare to say that this was one of the best weekends I have had in a while!

[tirednerd2012]

i know you already did one about night mares, but what if ian has one about being tortured by d rew? he tried to b brave for barly, but hes not ok. and i luv fatherly barly, so he can comfort him?

Drew dragged Ian by his hair into the living room. He was laughing and then shoved Ian against the wall first, running his knife along his stomach towards his neck. His cold eyes looked through his soul and smiled darkly at him.

"I have to admit, you're brave. Stupid, but brave," he said. Ian didn't care. He would gladly face this bastard if it meant Barley didn't have to. He knew how bad their relationship was. How toxic it became. He begged Barley to end it long before he did. And he would forever hate Drew for trying to strangle Barley to death.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Ian responded. He never should have used a stun spell. He should have killed the bastard when he found him on top of Barley.

"Yeah, you should have. Because now, I'm going to kill you. It's a shame it has to end this way, but hey, you are Barley's everything," Drew laughed. He cut Ian's arm and Ian hissed in pain. "You know, he used to wonder whether or not you would be safe around me. I guess now we know the answer. I never did like you."

"Weird, I never liked you," Ian snapped back. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to let this bastard think he was scared of him. No, he wouldn't be afraid of him. "Barley deserved so much better than you."

Drew's smile faded and he threw Ian on the floor.

He could feel Drew on top of him. Ian tried to stop the older boy's hand as the knife sliced his arm. He let out a scream. He tried to control it, knowing Barley was listening and already freaking out, but the pain seared through his body. Tears poured down his face as Drew made another cut.

"I can't wait to tell your brother exactly how I killed you," he told Ian. The pain got so bad Ian's limbs stopped working. Drew made another cut, this time on his face.

He could hear Barley screaming his name, begging Drew to leave him alone. He looked up at his brother's abuser.

"You will never be half the man Barley is," he snapped and Drew cut his face again.

"If your brother is such a man, where is he to save you?" he asked. Another cut on his arm and Ian could feel the blood forming a pool under him. He tried to move again, managing to kick at Drew, but the boy stabbed Ian's leg and Ian cried out.

He opened his eyes and found himself in his bedroom. Sweat rolled down his face as he examined all his surroundings. Just a nightmare. No, no, a flashback. To Drew torturing him. When he took Barley's place.

He shuttered at the memory and then felt his cheeks. He had been crying. He could still feel Drew's hands around his wrist as he pulled Ian closer to cut him. He feels the pain and his scars burn.

Without thinking, he went downstairs. He instinctively went to Barley's bedroom. He always came to him when he had a nightmare. Always.

He opened the door softly and saw his brother asleep. Before he could change his mind, Barley groaned and opened his eyes.

"Ian? What's wrong? You okay?" he asked. Ian busted into tears the moment his brother called his name. He darted to his side and the next thing he knew, he was in Barley's arms. "Hey, hey, it's alright. Talk to me, little brother. Tell me what's going on."

"I-I- Drew," was the only thing Ian could manage. Barely sighed and pulled him closer and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry. I just- I can't forget what happened."

"I know, I know. It's alright. Look, we're home. We're safe. You are safe. I'm not in chains and I'm not going to let anything like that happen again," he said. Ian knew damn well his brother couldn't prevent every problem, but he hung on and found comfort in his words anyway.

"I can't forget what happened."

"I don't think you ever will. But it'll get easier to manage. And I'll be here every step of the way," Barley promised him. He felt his brother run his hand through his hair, something he always did to comfort Ian in the worst cases and it still worked right now. Ian's breathing eventually evened and his eyes were heavier.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he was wrapped under the covers. Barley was still there, asleep himself.

He'd never forget what happened, but he would do it again if it meant Barley didn't have to endure it.

[rikirachtman]

So, not really sure how to go about saying this. I don’t think there’s any non-melodramatic way to say “I’m about to kill myself” lmao. It’s a pretty heavy thing to have to publicly announce. My head’s a little scrambled at the moment, partly out of fear, partly out of exhaustion, partly out of just sheer emotion making it difficult to think coherently. If this whole thing ends up a little messy then I apologize, you’d think I’d sorta put more effort into what could be the last thing I ever write. I’m also pretty long-winded, scatterbrained, and like to ramble, so this is going to be a very, very long note.

It’s hard to pinpoint one specific reason why this is happening. Primarily I think it’s loneliness; I’ve been in three relationships in my entire life, all three of which have been long-distance deals, so there’s that. I’ve never had very many friends; people that talk to me on occasion, but that’s few and far between and I still spend long periods just too scared to leave the house. I know I’m pretty damn repulsive, and having not hugged or even touched another human being in months admittedly makes me feel just a tad more repulsive; I guess I’m just lonely, emotionally, physically, in general. I’ve spent every birthday since I was 11 alone in my room. I know I just kinda creep/gross people out, and that accounts for why I don’t really have any friends to hang around (I do have some, but still I don’t wanna overstay my welcome with them). The breakups I’ve experienced have pretty much been life-altering experiences for someone as bad at coping with loss as I am, and recent events concerning my previous ex have pretty much sent me over the edge, leaving my current partner to have to deal with me crying and moping about someone that I broke up with long ago anyway. I definitely make an effort to hide it (I think a lot of folks see me as disgusted by the concept of love pffft), but truth be told I think it’s the only thing that makes me happy anymore. Having what I had with my first girlfriend (who I remain friends with to this day) was an incredible experience, and the second was good too, up until the end when things fell apart thanks to my own mistakes, in both cases. My current boyfriend (yeah, sorry to my family for not really coming out about the whole “bi” thing until my death lmao, but uh there you go, hope nobody’s too disappointed) is an amazing human being who, frankly, I don’t deserve. I’d do anything to see him, but being separated like this is too much for me to handle. I can barely take another second of the jealousy I get when I see happy couples together everywhere I go and we’re still here separated. The fact that I have someone AT ALL is amazing of course, I truly thought I’d die alone, but I guess the bad things in life have outweighed the good.

There’s also the fact that I’m just in general kind of a piece of shit. I’m ugly, dishonest, completely talentless, hypocritical, overweight, over-emotional, unintelligent, lazy, whiny, weak, cowardly, I couldn’t think of a simple positive trait I possess. On top of being broke, alone, and sorta in the middle of nowhere, I’ve really got nothing going for me. The only thing I wanna do with my life is play music, and that’s not exactly gonna make me any money. I’ve been making plans for this since roughly the time of my first breakup, which I think again illustrates how absolutely garbage I am at letting go of things pffft. If that’s not enough, my second partner now being involved with someone new is one of the major events that’s sent me completely over the edge recently, which is pretty goddamn slimy for someone already in a relationship with an amazing human being, who has saved my life multiple times now. I’ve missed enough school (not through dislike of school, but because the stress is too much for my weak mind to deal with) that I think I’ve effectively thrown any future career options out the window. Ultimately I think it’s better for everyone if I’m gone; I’m unimportant, irritating, generally just not someone that I believe would be missed. A few of you might be upset for a while, I know, but you’d get over it, you’d get over me, I promise. I don’t feel the world is losing anything with me gone; at best it’ll be gaining something, assuming that I’m remotely important enough to cause any change either way pffft.

There’s so many lovely people out there who I’ve met in my life and I wish I could say goodbye to each and every one of you. Every person I’ve ever met has been an important part of this journey, even if I’ve had bad times. My mom, my dad, my brother, my grandparents, Sam, Lehi, Seth, Alyssa, Carrie, Cole, Zeke, Hala, Ian, Heidi, Dan, Ryvre, Brittany, Randi, Gray, Andrea, Athena, Maddie, Zeke, Josiah, Emma, Sinead, Koko, Natasha, Cierra, Kinzie, Morgan, Lily, Elia, Tyson, Jordan, Grace, Adie (you probably won’t ever read this, but still). Just to name a very, VERY small portion of the souls that I’ve encountered throughout my life, and whether we’ve had good times or bad times, I think everyone has had an affect on me in some way, which I’m forever grateful for. I’m sorry, however, that I couldn’t take that effect and put it to some use, and instead I’m squandering any potential I MAY have had (unlikely but eh) by ending my life.

I know some people might be hit harder than this by others. Mom, I know this is going to hurt you a lot, I know you’re going to feel at fault, or feel like your life is over. Please don’t think that, please. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain I’m inflicting on you by forcing to lose one of your own children, and I’m so, so, so sorry. I love you, please carry on, please be strong, please don’t blame yourself. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, thank you for raising me, I’m sorry things went this way. This goes for my brother, my dad, all my other relatives. I was lucky to have a good family, I’m grateful for that, truly. 

My closest friends, both those I’ve made in real life and those I’ve met on the internet because I’m a loser lmao, I love you all too, very much. My loneliness would be far more powerful if you weren’t all around for me. You’ve all contributed positively to my life, and I really hope I’ve been able to contribute to your lives as well. I wish I could go see each and every one of you before I do this, but I know I’m kind of a pain to be around and that’s understandable. I hope you all have great lives.

My boyfriend, Sam, who has outright saved my life multiple times and been a constant force of positivity in my life since we met. We’ve only known each other a short time, but it feels like so much longer, it feels like I’ve known you forever. I’m sorry I never got to see you in person, it was one of the last things I was holding out for, but it just looks so difficult to do at this stage. Please don’t blame yourself, please know you helped me hold on a lot longer than I would have without you. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get over my past relationships, I can’t imagine how much that hurt you, dealing with that, with my moping, while you stayed up all night every night helping me. Thank you. You’re going to do great things with your life, I promise you, you’re an angel, my angel, don’t let this break you. Be safe, be brave, carry on like you always do, because you’re strong. I love you so much.

Now, with my long history of generally being a fuck-up, there’s a pretty massive chance I’m going to mess this up too. With my limited resources, I’ve had to choose a pretty risky method of hanging (shower curtain road is the strongest thing in this house lmao), and so it’s very likely the rod will break and I’ll fall. Now I want to make it clear that if that happens, if for whatever reason I end up paralyzed, brain damaged, or otherwise unable to communicate my wishes, I ask that you PLEASE, PLEASE end my life. Life is agonizing enough as it is, I cannot spend the rest of my days as vegetable. I am begging anyone who will listen to please just fucking kill me if I end up like that, I can’t do it, I’m too scared. If I do survive mostly unharmed and okay, then fuck, I dunno, maybe the experience of a failed suicide will make me realize “hey, I DO want to live after all”. I hope it does, because I don’t want to survive and still feel the way I do. But Jesus, this NEEDS to happen, one way or the other.

My head is really starting to hurt now, I’ll admit that the prospect of staring eternity in the face is a little scary. I don’t know what lies beyond death; I hope nothing, no existence, no thought, no feeling. That may sound scary now, but it won’t be once you get there because…I mean, you just WON’T be there to be scared in the first place. The idea of an eternity, no matter what kind, terrifies me, especially a hellish one. The fear of the afterlife, along with the fear of the pain and fear that will be going through my mind when I die, are the most major things that have stopped me from killing myself much sooner. However, the fear of life has overcome the fear of death, and I’m ready to try it.

I don’t really know what else to say. Anyone who wants my stuff can take whatever they’d like (unless mom wants to keep all my stuff, which is absolutely okay too), please choose a good picture (like I dunno, my current Facebook one or something) to use at my funeral (again, assuming anyone would show up, which is pretty unlikely haha, but ah well - bottom line, just don’t use one of those gross pictures of me in 7th grade, nasty stuff), please don’t dress me in my horrible pyjamas that I’m about to die in for the funeral, and again, please kill me if I become paralyzed/brain damaged/et cetera. I am so sorry for all the bad things I’ve done in my life, I’m sorry for inflicting my existence upon those who’d had to put up with it. I shouldn’t have been born in the first place, but better late than never, right?

I guess that’s that then. If I die I die, if I live I live, and if it’s the latter case then I’ll let you guys know. Once again, thank you all for having been a part of my life, I enjoyed it, I just didn’t enjoy myself. My dreams of starting a band, traveling the world, having children, those things might never be realized, but I didn’t deserve them anyway. I’m sorry to end this on such a whiny note, I really wanted to make this a little more lighthearted, I just don’t have it in me right now. My head hurts, I’m scared, but this has to be done.

I love you all, so very much, thank you for having made my experience in life better.  -Matt

[cosmosfated]

To Speak Among Silence

   Another stoplight turned red.  Blasted things, he swears they last longer every time he wants to get home quicker.  His eyes flicker up towards the rear view mirror; his housemate and psuedo brother is passed out in the backseat, having drank too much while they were at Lux.  He also did drink, yes, but when alcohol works on him these days… the effects don’t affect his motor skills.  Not visibly at least.  Something else would prefer if he didn’t slack in the physical department.  In really tough situations he won’t be as good as he normally would be, but alcohol does the one thing it always does when taken in enough.

   It makes even the best of liars spill their truths    like madmen threatened with a silver coffin.

   Shame that his truths aren’t so easily obtained.  His only show when the world is no longer listening, or to those that know of his madness and deception and call the truth another set of bizarre lies.  So nothing he says holds any sway.  So nothing he says will grant him any mercy, any respite.  He takes a breath and sighs softly, set grip on the steering wheel loosening a bit as he stares out the window again.

   The light is still red.

   “bloody thing is jus’ taunting me now. i ought to run it.”

   He doesn’t move.

   No, instead, he leans back into his seat and stares ahead of him.  Waiting.  Listening.  Waiting more.  Fingers drumming a simple beat against the wheel, waiting for a paused beat to continue playing.  The silence hurts him. It rings much like a dirge.

   Fleur stops the drumming, and chuckles wearily.  He always finds the right opportunity to get everything said to ears that aren’t listening.  Words cursed to fall upon deaf ears.

   “why are we doing this song and dance, ian?”  His voice is soft, too soft.  It’s the voice of someone who knows he’s dying and yet is taking little to no measures to prevent it.  Acceptance to a fate, RESIGNATION.  “why are you going through so much for me? is it because of regina? because of emrys? is it a moral obligation because i’m a child?”�� He pauses, claws digging into the wheel.  “why did any of you have to get involved? why did you have to make me care again? everything would have gone so much smoother if i had never met any of you!”

   He winces as the pain from his wounds being aggravated causes them to bleed again, forcing him to loosen his grip.  The weariness sets in again as his shoulders slouch and his posture resembles not a world tested soldier who has seen hell and called it a mercy but rather a too young Atlas who has only ever wished for the world to fly and not fall.  “… it’s going to hurt. you know that don’t you? all your baubles and gadgets and toys- they won’t save you. if you get too involved with me, they’ll try to get rid of you, and if they can’t do that, then they’ll take all remnants of me from you and your mind. i know that you have that, but… i don’t know if it’ll be enough. i don’t know if it’ll be enough to remember everything, or even anything at all. that’s all i’m here for. seeing my creation out to its happy ever after and then… and… then…”

   He takes a breath almost too deep, a single cough tearing through him deep enough to cut and render him shaky.  Not that.  He can’t say that.  Nothing would change from it anyway.  So instead he takes his hands off the wheel and takes off his clover bottle necklace, gingerly holding it with a piece of rainbow cloth that has seen finer days but remains ever bright.  “i never told you, did i? about my timeline’s frisk? i guess it hurts too much to talk about them when someone is listening. even after years, it still hurts. …they were murdered, ian.”  The words still make his voice crack and his shoulders shake with heartache.  “right in front of me. i was powerless to do anything. half a soul, chained and choked by vines unseen, trying to wrestle back some control from my keeper. dying fast even without the bullets in my back and chest speeding up the process. they were murdered right in front of me and i did nothing but sit there and watch as they destroyed the one thing that would bring them back to me. watched helplessly as the only person who had ever truly believed in me until i met whisper… died in my arms. for all my power, for all my “strength”, i did nothing. i could do nothing. helpless, frozen, WEAK.”

   His claws curl delicately, with no shortage of pain, around the two items.  So precious, so necessary to keep him both anchored to what he built and reminded of what he fights for.  “…i won’t let anybody die for me. i won’t let anybody take the hit for me. i won’t let anybody make the tough calls for me. not again. never again. if i can’t keep my family safe, if i’m not strong enough to help protect my family, then i don’t deserve to have them. and just this once- just… just ONCE-”

   He feels the tears streak down his face even as he puts the necklace back on, cloth tucked away into his Inventory again.  “i want to be the one that saves them. because even the saviors need saving sometimes. i… i want to get stronger, ian. i need to get stronger. i NEED to. not just for me. for my family, my love, my people. i need to be strong enough to protect those who need me, strong enough to fight against what threatens those i love. i need to be strong enough to save at least one of my families..!”  His head rests against the top of the wheel, fingers now gripping tight to it without caring that he’s bleeding through the bandages now.  The pain is quite real but his anguish and determination is stronger.  “i couldn’t save anyone before because i was too weak. i’m tired of being the one who needs saving! i’m not a damsel in distress! i’m not a clumsy child! but… nobody cares about that. nobody hears the truth. even if they do, the lie sounds more real because fact is stranger than fiction. always is. so i’m forever a lying fool before the court of blinded judges. stupid. selfish. deceitful. heinous.”

   A weak laugh tumbles through his chest, shuddering and glitched as he looks up at the light, wiping away tears with the back of his hands.  “so many nightmares. or are they truths i don’t want to face? it’s not just him that’s running low. you’ve noticed haven’t you? they’re upset with you. to some extent i am too. i wish you wouldn’t interfere as you are. …really, at this point, i would take a couple of days with my family and call that my happily ever after. i would take that. i would go peacefully down with that. no fight. no ruckus. just give me my family for just a couple days. happy and laughing and home. sharing stories. sharing mistakes. good food, bad jokes, worse laughs. seeing my parents smile again. that wouldn’t be so bad. that sounds perfect. …i would take that. if that was my offer, i wouldn’t think twice. i would go without resistance, without a fight. a weapon back within the clutches of the one it ran from. that would be enough for me to return. just a dose of joy. just… just a bit.”

   He looks back at Ian, still passed out and still not hearing him.  His smile is as soft and tired as his voice.  “and here i am again. speaking to deafened ears and expecting a response from someone with a muted tongue.”  His look turns sad and he reaches back with one hand to gently pat his head, ruffling the downed Warlock’s hair.  He doesn’t take his hand away immediately, twitching and trembling fingers speaking volumes of his pain that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world without added injury.  The pause is telling of words that are best spoken by his touch, as gentle as the breeze on a perfect summer day to bring relief while remaining as cool as fall to remind of his truths.  Two sides of a coin.  Two halves to a whole.  Can’t have one without the other.  The words he said being one of many reasons why he doesn’t slow down, why he keeps going, why people insist on calling him BRAVE while those he loves calls him RECKLESS.

   He pulls his hand back and settles on the wheel again, chest feeling much lighter and much heavier all at once.  “…thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to be angry, to be scared. thank you for showing me how to truly be myself again. i can only hope i’m doing as much for you as you’re doing for me.”

   The light clicks green.

   “ah. right. …time to go home, then.”

[twxntrash]

Dance of Grey Ch. 2

Now in the perspective of the nervous blood-mage cinnamon roll with 0 self esteem.

Honestly, Dakota wasn’t sure why he had ever expected things to magically become great after he got accepted into the academy.

He sat, slumped over his desk, waiting for class to begin as students gradually filled the classroom. It had been about a week since the first day and already his classmates had formed their own little groups of friends and cliques among each other. It was weird how easily people were drawn to one another, like magnets to metal or something.

Except him. He was the other magnet that kept all the others away.

That’s how it had always been. In grade school all the other kids stayed around him because they didn’t like his power, in middle school he was teased relentlessly on the days that they chose to acknowledge his existence. All because of his power.

Any power that involved blood was usually pretty looked down upon. Most powers like that needed one party to consume the blood of the other party, but not every blood-based power was like that. His power was full control over his own blood. From the smallest drop to gushing wounds, he could manipulate his blood in a variety of ways, harden it, and still control it if someone else consumes it.

But that seemed to make matters worse for him, especially when he was younger and had little control over his power.

It was no secret that Dakota was a walking ball of anxiety and fear. He’d freak out easily when he was a kid, have frequent panic attacks, and when his power first manifested itself when he was a kid, those freak out sessions would cause his blood to go out of control, piercing through his own body, hurting himself and those who got too close.

It earned him a stigma that he could never shake off.

He had hoped that when he got accepted into Garrick Academy, some miracle that was, that he’d be able to find a place where he belonged, surrounded by students who didn’t care what kind of power he had. But even then, even now as he sat in the classroom, not a lot of students tended to look his way. He’d get a polite smile and greeting now and then, a few ‘nice work’ during the training exercises, but just the obligation ones.

For the most part, his classmates ignored him, no one ever reached out.

But, he couldn’t put all the blame on them, he never really reached out to the others, either. Too scared to after all the years of being bullied and treated as an outcast, scared of being laughed at for his attempt to befriend someone.

He sighed, picking at the sleeves of his uniform and watched his classmates tiredly.

A lot of them were loud and energetic in the way only high school students could be, and others were quiet and studious, already sitting down and reading over textbooks or looking over their homework for last-minute mistakes. What was more, they all had such cool powers while his was just… his. It really matched him if he was being honest, an awful power for an awful person, just as useless as he was.

How did he even get into the academy when there were so many others with a better power than his?

Over by the wall he could see the Dae twins bickering as they usually did, their powers were fire and ice from what he understood. James, a student with Stoneskin, a power that let him harden his skin, was talking pretty enthusiastically about something to Ian, who both was able to take on cat-like attributes and looked extremely uncomfortable.

Dakota could also smell smoke from behind him and didn’t have to look behind to know which student that was, and the hair on the back of his neck raised in only the way that static could cause, telling him what other student was talking a few seats behind him. Elizabeth and Cody, Smokescreen and Electricity respectively.

There were other students in the room with other powers that were just as amazing. Beast-Out, Siren’s Song, Elasticity, Sensory, metal manipulation, speed, strength and so many more powers that he couldn’t name.

His blood abilities were so pale in comparison.

Blood related powers were never good and Blood Control was likely among the worst. He probably only got accepted to meet a quota.

He hated himself for thinking that, but it was probably true. His mother had told him over and over again that he’d never make the cut for being a hero, not with the kind of power that he had. His was one that villains only ever had, it was a mark for a bad apple to have a power that involved blood as a necessary part. A sign they’d be no good.

But, whenever he saw the heroes on the news, smiling and laughing, so brave and courageous as they threw their all into helping others… he wanted to be like them.

He wanted the kind of courage they had, to be able to smile like them despite everything, to stand there and say “Never fear, I am here!” and have people look at him with hope in their eyes and the knowledge that everything would be okay now.

He just wanted to feel confident in himself and feel accepted by the world. That was the reason he chose to go here, why he wanted to be a hero.

But now that he was here at the school, he knew that dream had been nothing but a fantasy. All his classmates were well on their way to becoming the next top heroes, beloved and looked up to by the people. He’d be lucky if the school gave him a job as part of the faculty out of pity after graduation.

Why did he have to be like this? So negative and pessimistic? He could already hear his mother’s voice telling him that this was why he was never going to make friends here, why he’d always be alone.

Maybe it’d be better if he just dropped out? Then the school can fill his seat with someone more worthy. He was just a waste of space, anyways. He already knew he was going to be the worst student in this class, his test scores were subpar and his results during the training they’d done so far always left him in last place.

He knew the other students were always laughing to themselves whenever his name came up beside the number 20 after their teachers listed their ranking after each training session. His power was always useless no matter what they did.

He hated it. He hated it so much.

Dakota’s head was hurting and he just wanted to curl up and disappear. Laying his head on his desk, he closed his eyes and just tried to tune out the chatter of the rest of the class. At least when Ms. Katherine, their mentor teacher, arrived then the class would quiet down and he could start focusing on the lessons of the day and hope he managed to skirt by on the afternoon training.

It would have been better if he applied at one of the less well-known hero schools, or better yet, had just gone to a regular high school instead of letting his dreams dictate what he did.

He let out a quiet sigh as he moved his arm to rest over his head, but gave a small jump when his elbow bumped into his bottle of water, knocking it to the ground. He could hear it quickly rolling across the floor as he lifted his head.

Pushing himself up, Dakota scanned the floor for his bottle and before he could even get out of his seat to pick it back up, one of the students whom it had rolled close to had knelt down to pick it up instead.

“Here,” she said closing the distance between him and her, handing the blue plastic object out to Dakota while she smiled softly, brushing some pastel pink hair from her face. Kotone Kobe, one of the students he was certain had the most potential out of the class and would make a  great hero.

He couldn’t meet her eyes and held out his hand to take his water bottle back, “T-thank you,” he murmured, a slight stammer in his voice as he put the bottle back on his desk, hoping to not knock it over again. She was just doing it to be nice and would move on to talk to the other students soon enough. That’s what most did if they bothered to give him a bit of kindness.

But instead, she pulled up a chair from the desk next to his and sat down, still smiling as she studied him. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Dakota paused and looked at her, startled by the fact that she was talking to him without a reason for it. Maybe someone dared her to interact with the class looser, that was the only plausible explanation he could think of, but he couldn’t see any of the other students watching them to make sure she followed through with the dare.

She wasn’t saying anything either, and he realized with a start that she was waiting for him to reply.

Feeling his face heat up, Dakota tilted his head down to look at his lap rather than face her, “I… sorry, I’m…”

“A little shy?” Kotone finished in an offering tone and he found himself nodding. That was one way to put it. “I can understand the feeling. Plus, everything is still pretty overwhelming. It’s kind of hard to understand how everyone can be so relaxed and at home so soon.”

She was one to talk. She had been one of the first to settle in after the first day, having quickly reached out to the other students and integrating herself among the class.

Before he could say anything in response to that, not that Dakota was going to in the first place, unable to even find the words to make a reply, Kotone had held a hand out to him and she was still smiling. He noticed that her smile was warm, like little kisses from the sun, warming the cold numb he had felt inside since day one.

He hesitated to take her hand, but he did. Hers was so much smaller than his and so much warmer, her grip was gentle, enough so that he could slip his hand free if he felt uncomfortable.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I thought it was really cool how you used your power during all the training we’ve been through these past few days,” Kotone said as she gave him a soft squeeze and then let go of his hand. “I’ve never gotten to see a power like that, it was amazing.”

She was lying. That was his first thought, there was no way that anyone would genuinely be impressed by his awful ability. No one had ever used cool or amazing to describe his power, or the self-mutilation he had to go through just to use his power.

Creepy, uneasy, bad. Those were the words he was used to others using to describe it.

But, looking at her face, he couldn’t find a trace of lie or mockery in her expression. It felt genuine, honest. It filled his chest with a weird feeling that he couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re just saying that,” Dakota mumbled, his cheeks turning pink again as he looked away from her.

Kotone shook her head and leaned forward in her seat to get closer to him. “No, I’m serious,” she said with a firmness in her voice. “I’ve never seen someone who was able to manipulate their blood, it’s really impressive. I mean, sure you were beyond awkward out there in the field like that, and the exercises that Ms. Katherine and Hercules put us through weren’t exactly suited for a power like yours, but you did really well!”

His face just got redder and redder the more that she kept talking, he could feel the blood in his face practically bubbling from how hot it was getting. This was the first time anyone had ever complimented him this much and it was embarrassing, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.

“You did so much better than I did,” Dakota pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck. Kotone usually scored up in the top ten during all the rankings at the end of their training, so much better than him.

But, Kotone was laughing as she shook her head. “Not really. Did you not see me trip and fall flat on my face during the 100 meter dash? Or jumping and smashing face first through the wall during the obstacle course?” she rubbed her face as though she could still feel the ache. She… had hit her face into a lot of things during the training, that was true. “Not only that, my power only works if I get hurt. It’s useless if no one gets a hit on me.”

“That’s not too different from mine,” Dakota mumbled before he could stop himself, “I have to get cut to use mine safely, not that it’s really safe in the first place.” Why was he trying to find common ground with this student who was so much cooler than him? He felt embarrassment swelling within him.

But his classmate kept laughing, it wasn’t spiteful or mocking, it was like she was actually enjoying the conversation. “Hooray team ‘Must Get Injured To Be Useful’,” she said in a playful tone as she raised her fist halfway up into the air. Dakota found himself smiling softly at it, but it fell when she let out a gasp.

“I got you smiling, victory!” Kotone cheered. “You have such a nice smile, too, you should smile more often.”

His face flushed and he looked away from her so quickly that he felt his neck crack.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kotone said, still laughing but reaching out to assure him that there was no harm intended. “I’m just teasing you.”

Slowly, Dakota let himself look back at her. “So, um…” he struggled to find his voice, to voice the question that had been on his mind. “Why are you talking to me, anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Kotone asked.

He fidgeted with his hands, rubbing at the palms and fingers, twisting his wrist in his own grip. “You’re cool, nice,” pretty, very pretty, “and so much better than I am. So why are you wasting your time talking to the class loser? There’s got to be other students worth your time more than I am? Like Casey?”

She looked at him, studying him before leaning back in her seat and giving a hum as she stared at the ceiling. “Dunno. You seemed like a nice person, and I like meeting nice people,” she said and gave a shrug. “Do I really need a reason other than wanting to be your friend?”

Dakota stared at her like he didn’t quite hear her right, and so Kotone, still smiling that sundrop smile, continued speaking. “I hope we can be friends.”

Friend?

It was almost laughable that someone wanted to be his friend.

But, it’d be bad if he refused her, even if he didn’t fully believe her wanting to be his friend. No one ever did and she probably was just interested because he was different or new compared to what she was used to.

“It’s…I’d like that,” Dakota admitted. He would like to be her friend, even if he wasn’t sure it would last. He’d never had one, after all. But, Kotone’s smile seemed to grow even brighter when he said that, and he felt that weirdly warm feeling in his chest again.

[survivor-switzerland]

Rites of Passage (Pre-Jury)

It is time for the Rites of Passage. Take this time to reflect on your journey in this game as well as the people who left for you four to be where you are now. Right now, we are only releasing pre-jury Rites of Passage. The jury Rites of Passage will be released after the season is over. Please play the audio and enjoy your experience.

Signing up for this game I knew it was going to be more cutthroat then other seasons (with being voted in and everything). Mentally I just wasn't in a place to rise to the occasion like I wanted. I wish everyone good luck and to have fun. xoxo Steven

Ashley Daisy Trent Steven Ci'ere - sorry I never had opportunity to know any of you but there's always another game!! I think you guys were robbed and should get a third chance but that's just my opinion

Brett I didn't get to meet Steven, but I thought it was rude to vote off the person with the worst finish first. Very Francesca. But the joke's on them, Steven, because you at least advanced your placement! Not everyone here can say that!

Dom Hi I don't really know you at all but you got rocked out of your first season and first boot on this season. That's really ugly and I'm sorry that you went home first boot. You seemed nice though!

Ian I never got to know you which kinda sucks. Your vote out was savage and it served as a testament on how savage people are in this season.

I'd like to thank the hosts for putting together an incredible season and a special thanks to everyone who voted for me and was rooting for me. I'm so sorry to disappoint you. I let you all down but mostly I let myself down. I don't know if I could have done anything differently, I don't know if I could have saved myself. To the few people who I did connect with, I'm rooting for you. Make me proud and do what I couldn't do! (Insert Mari Salty video because it just needs to be there lmao)

Ashley ROBBED KING!!!!! Your time was cut way too short!!!!! You should have slayed this game!!!

Brett My original #1 and partner in crime! I was devastated when he left and I told myself "No one who wrote your name down is going to win this game." I'm glad I could honor him. I hope everyone here gets to know him better because he's one of the most fantastic humans I've ever met.

Dom I've heard wonderful things about you from Brett. You were definitely so robbed and it's so ugly that you got second boot.

Ian I love dogs so you’re good in my book. You were robbed and I have heard nothing but good things from you.

Coming into this game, I wanted to play differently and be a lot more aggressive when it came to decision making. My tribe targeted people I wanted to work with and I didn't like that and when I don't like something I'm not gonna just sit there and eat my rice. I'm not a sheep, I'm a KWEEN. I tried to take a risk by planting seeds in the minority's head about a player having way too much power and control so that we could take them down, but someone screwed that up huh. You could say I was too smart for my own good. I'm so thankful to the hosts for giving my flop a$$ another opportunity to play and to everyone that voted for me on the ballot! <3 P.S. Drew, when are we going on our key lime pie date? :]

Ashley Daisy Trent Steven Ci'ere - sorry I never had opportunity to know any of you but there's always another game!! I think you guys were robbed and should get a third chance but that's just my opinion

Brett My hometown hero! I was bummed our Long Beach hearts weren't paired together on the same tribe.

Dom MY FELLOW ARABIA!!! We didn't get to play in Arabia together so I was really looking forward to playing with you this season. Unfortunately, your tribe voted you out so we didn't get that chance. You're super cool though!

Ian Your vote out had me shook. We talked briefly during the voting of the community and I really liked our short conversation! I wanted to work with you in this game but sadly we weren’t able to.

well i had a nice quick run! honestly these people were sucky, whoever wins is probably gonna be very boring. i wish i could say i had more regrets but i played headstrong, and almost turned things around for me once we swapped. if only i hadn't had a life for a night!

Ashley Daisy Trent Steven Ci'ere - sorry I never had opportunity to know any of you but there's always another game!! I think you guys were robbed and should get a third chance but that's just my opinion

Brett The fact that we weren't swapped together KILLS me. I think the world of him. Congrats on graduating this week, too!

Dom I don't know you but you seemed cool.

Ian I never got the chance to talk to you but I think the shoes you sent during the endurance challenge were nice!

My time in Switzerland was kind of a rollercoaster honestly. I felt like I was at the top of an alliance for a while but something totally out of my control screwed that up for me. I respect everyone's decisions for voting me out. It probably made sense for a lot of your games (except one or two people, who I won't name but... you know who you are. I would've been loyal as fuck). The only thing I still don't understand, is whoever told me I was too paranoid in their voting confessional. I had every right to be paranoid. I was voted out, so clearly there was something to be paranoid about. But anyways. Here I am. I hope whoever the jury votes for is a deserving winner!

Ashley Daisy Trent Steven Ci'ere - sorry I never had opportunity to know any of you but there's always another game!! I think you guys were robbed and should get a third chance but that's just my opinion

Brett Daisy wears lipstick.

Dom Ahhhh daisy I think we were on a tribe together at the start. You definitely got screwed over and I'm so sorry that happened to you. You are such a delight.

Ian Another person I never got the chance to talk to. Your lipstick looks nice though :)

Me, rising from my bed to look at the rest of this season: wait what oh yall are cute i guess hope u had fun tru

Ashley Lily- we didn't have long enough to get to know each other well but you seem cool and maybe we'll get a chance to play in the future!! 

Brett Thank you for enouraging my crimes more than anyone here!

Dom Ahhh Lily hi. You were SO robbed. I was looking forward to working with you because you're just such an icon.

Ian You were interesting to talk to. I was shocked that you were voted out. In any case, I loved that time during the selfie challenge where we were kinda the only ones up and you tried staying up until the sunrise and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

the only one-Justin Bieber ft. Chance the rapper.mp3

Ashley Renee - you seemed to be a fierce competitor so I'm sad we didn't get much time to play together. You seem nice and I really hope we have chance to actually work together soon.

Brett I liked her a lot! It just wasn't smart to let her go any further. But the first thing I told her when I met her at swap #2 was that she had a brilliant audition tape and she looked beyond cute in Monte Rosa 2.0's music video. The star of that tribe for sure!

Dom You voted yourself out. ICONIC. You're super sweet and I think you're wonderful!!

Ian I’m writing this last because you deserve an essay, heck even a paragraph for this because you don’t know how sorry I am for voting you out. The moment I saw you in the voting pool I knew I wanted to work with you. The moment you got cast, I knew I really really wanted to work with you. The moment we finally got into a tribe together I was pumped, overjoyed and excited to finally be able to work with you. I picked you first because I wanted the chance to finally re-write our story that had an ending we didn’t want in Bora Bora. The moment we lost that escape room challenge, I knew you were in trouble. We tried figuring something out, and I told you to try and talk to people. However when I woke up the next day, everyone was saying your name. It was gut wrenching having to see people message me that they only heard the name ‘Renee’ on who to vote out. It killed me not contacting you, because I couldn’t do a thing about it. Maybe I could have done something to save you but either way I didn’t do anything to save you. Voting you out was one of the most painful thing I had to do because I essentially was responsible for you being voted out because I picked you on my tribe. During the tribal council call, I don’t know if people noticed but I was really crying at that time or I had just finished crying. I can’t really remember. It’s my fault that you got voted for out and for that I wanna say that I’m deeply sorry and I hope that once this is over we can still chat from time to time.

I’m mostly just bitter about getting the same placement I did on my first season, but at least I didn’t do worse, right? If the 2 who said they couldn’t save me had tried, I would have lived. Also my fuck you was filled with irony, there’s really only hard feelings to one of you, and to that one, I have this: 

Ashley Logan - robbed!!!! Stupid swap !!! You should have come back to us!!! At least we avenged you!!! You know you deserve so much more!!! You are the best and  I will always look forward to games with you!!

Brett When he got voted out, I just wanted him to STAY. A MINUTE. JUST TAKE. YOUR TIME. THE CLOCK. IS TICKING. If I could describe Logan as one word, it would be "brave." He came to me early in the game with some things he had heard before the game started and he made me promise I would come to my own conclusions about him and I'm glad I held up my end of the deal. Dom OH MY GOD YOU WERE THE MOST ROBBED PREMERGE BOOT. I LITERALLY WAS SO UPSET THAT YOU GOT VOTED OUT!!! YOU AND NICK WERE MY CLOSEST ALLIES I'M SO SORRY THAT PEOPLE ARE UGLY. I HAVE NOTHING BUT LOVE FOR YOU <3 Ian Coming into this game I was scared of you tbh. You literally had connections with almost everyone in the cast. I’m sorry for calling you a “her” or a “mother” on several occasions lol, thanks for taking the time to correct me. Also I’m still waiting on that tarot card reading you were gonna give me.

Okay so. This wasn’t the worst season I’ve ever played but y’all seriously need to up your social games. I had a lot of fun with my OG Monte Rosa mates, but in the end, most of the players of my last tribe made no effort to talk to me, were completely sloppy in their attempts to blindside, and generally killed the vibe for me. I always love making friends in these games, so thanks to the few of you I can say I connected with. But as for the rest of you, good luck with your future ORG careers and I wish you much improvement in the social and subtlety departments (y’all were projecting wanting me gone since day one of that swap let’s be real), and also like. You know, fun :P

Ashley Maximilian- you were amazing!!! I wish we had talked more cause you are talented and seem like a great competitor!! Our time was so great together and sadly the swap led to your vote out but we avenged you!!! I hope to see you in other games!!!

Brett Thank you for editing that music video.

Dom You were really shady to me when we were on the same tribe. When you got screwed over on the tribe swap, I was upset because you're actually super nice and fun.

Ian You were always an enigma in this game. I couldn’t really get a proper read on you, but you were the first person I talked to in the tribe so that’s something hahaha. Good luck with your films!!