#(WHEN WILL THIS FANDOM LEARN TO QUIT IT WITH THE TIRED REPETITIVE TAKES THAT NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING SERIOUSLY)

[nicknellie]

For months I’ve been saying I’d write a fic where Alex starts counselling because this fandom is in desperate need of good therapy representation, and I’ve finally got around to it! This follows Alex deciding he wants to get therapy, having his first assessment, and having his first session. Most of it is pulled from my experiences so far, but bare in mind that not all therapists/organisations will function the way this one does. Also I’m very tired and I didn’t proofread so I’m sorry for any errors, I’ll fix them at another point.

TW: anxiety, therapy, mentions of depression, mentions of homophobia, mentions of OCD

The Right Decision

It was another one of those days where Alex felt exhausted from the moment he woke up. Not exhausted in that he needed to sleep longer (although admittedly that was probably a part of it), just exhausted because here was another day he had to get through, another challenge he had to overcome, another stressful sixteen hours of endless worries and things to do. Sometimes Alex felt like there was no escape, no rest, no pause in his life. He had to keep going no matter how drained he felt.

It was exhausting.

Everything felt like too much nowadays. Between going to school and sitting exams, playing with the band, and keeping up with his friends, Alex felt as if he had no time to breathe. He couldn’t slow down for longer than a moment or two before along came the next thing and the next barrage of anxieties that accompanied it. He couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t keep up, and it was dragging him down.

What he couldn’t understand was how nobody else seemed to feel quite as worried as him. He had always been more anxious than his friends, that was nothing new – but when everyone he knew had mostly the same stresses as him, it struck him as impossible that none of them seemed too overwhelmed. Perhaps every now and then Luke would complain about an exam at school or Reggie would mention that he was having trouble sleeping, but none of Alex’s friends ever mentioned weak legs, trouble breathing, clouded thoughts, needless panic that stemmed from nowhere, the feeling that nothing they did was really worth much at all.

Recently, Alex’s days had been muddled, his mind occupied with each new worry that he thought up. He was finding it hard to focus on much at all. He’d find his leg bouncing whenever he sat down or his fingers scratching at his knees, little repetitive movements that he wouldn’t notice until somebody pointed them out. He struggled sleeping at night, his mind racing at the speed of light, every nonsensical thought keeping him awake like the world’s most pessimistic firework display. When he was around his friends, his mind snagged on what they thought about him – he began acting the way he thought they wanted him to rather than the way he normally would have.

It felt like he was constantly pretending to be coping better than he was. If he carried on the way he was, he knew sooner or later he would break.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said that morning, sat on the opposite side of the sofa to Willie. He had stayed the night at Willie’s place, vastly preferring it to his own – his strained relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly doing him a world of good either.

“About what?” Willie asked, kicking their feet up onto the sofa and resting them in Alex’s lap.

The question was strangely hard to answer. Where was he even supposed to begin answering it?

“About me,” he ventured slowly. It seemed like a good start, he just wasn’t sure how to carry on.

“I think about you a lot too,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s one of my favourite pastimes.”

Normally, Alex might have blushed, but he was so caught up in his own head that the flirtatious nature of Willie’s comment flew right over his head.

Willie sat up, looking concerned. He took Alex’s hand in his own, dragging Alex down from his addled thoughts. “What’s going on, hotdog? What have you been thinking?”

“I’ve not been finding things easy recently,” Alex began. He hadn’t expected tears to fill his eyes so soon, and yet there they were. His voice wavered, his words interspersed with sniffles. Frustrated, he sighed and wiped roughly at his eyes with his sleeve, annoyed that this was all getting to him so easily. “I… I can’t explain it.”

Willie reached up and gently pulled Alex’s tight fists away from his eyes and instead wiped Alex’s tears away softly with his thumb. “Take your time,” they said. “It’s alright. I’m listening.”

“I just… I feel so nervous. All the time. About every little thing. And it feels like it’s getting worse. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

One of the things Alex loved most about Willie was that he was never pushy. He always let Alex talk as and when he needed to, getting everything off his chest the way he wanted, even if it took hours. They did it now, just holding Alex’s hand, their eyes fixed on him attentively. From someone else, the unbroken eye contact might have just unnerved Alex even more, but from Willie it felt reassuring. He knew he was being listened to and heard – he knew he was safe.

“I want to get help,” he breathed. “I don’t want to carry on the way I am. It scares me.”

“If you want to get help, then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Willie told him, threading their fingers together. “And Alex – it might not feel like it, but you’re so brave for telling me that. It can’t have been easy, but I’m proud of you for telling me instead of just struggling through by yourself.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Alex asked apprehensively. Willie was always supportive of him, but it was such a drastic change from the way his parents treated him that sometimes he couldn’t help but check it was all real.

Willie smiled gently and cupped Alex’s cheek with his hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch, so he couldn’t see Willie when they replied but he could hear the honestly in his voice. “I think it’ll be really helpful for you. And if it’s what you think you need then it’s worth trying no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, barely audible, throat clogged with suppressed sobs.

“Anything, Alex.”

The two of them spent hours researching different therapists and counsellors. Willie carried out extensive background checks on every one of them – at first Alex thought that maybe it was a bit much, but Willie was adamant that only the best would do, that he didn’t want anyone with a chequered past or a dodgy record.

Eventually they came across a charity that offered free counselling. The sessions would take place at the same time on the same day each week and they could go on for as long as Alex needed. He would be assigned the counsellor deemed most fit to treat him after completing an assessment, and the organisation appeared to have very good reviews and success rates.

“We don’t have to sign you up today,” Willie explained, “not if you think it’ll be too much too soon. But it’s worth keeping in mind that this place is probably a good one to go for.”

Alex thought for a moment before making his mind up. He knew himself – if he kept putting it off because he was nervous about it then he would never get around to doing it at all.

“Let’s do it now,” he said resolutely, trying to sound confident in the hopes that maybe he’d believe he wasn’t so nervous himself. “Get it out of the way. It’s now or never, right?”

Willie just kissed the top of his head and clicked the application button at the bottom of the webpage.

*

A week or so later, Alex received an email informing him of when his assessment would take place. It seemed like a very informal thing – someone from the charity would phone him, they’d have a casual chat where they would ask him about himself, and they’d offer him either a space on their waiting list or suggest somewhere else that might be able to help him better.

Despite how friendly and casual it all sounded, Alex couldn’t help but feel nervous. For one thing, he hated talking to strangers. He’d never been good at it and the whole idea made him feel sick with worry. Though, he supposed, that was why he was going through with this whole thing, to make that worry stop.

But the other issue was that it was a phone appointment. Inexplicably, one of the things guaranteed to cause Alex anxiety was phone calls. The thought of picking up the phone when somebody rang was enough to make his head spin and eyes water. Just the notion of it made him want to lock himself away in a lonely dark room and not come out until he felt he could breathe again. It was painfully ironic – he had to do the things that made him most anxious in order to get help with his anxiety.

When the time of the appointment came, Alex was sat on Willie’s bed by himself, staring at his phone, waiting for it to ring. Willie had kindly offered to be in the room with him, but Alex had declined. Even though Willie was the most supportive person in his life, having them in the room while he had his assessment would have made it a thousand times more difficult.

The phone rang and for a moment Alex considered just not picking up. Was it worth making himself even more worried over this? Maybe he could learn to cope with his anxiety alone instead of getting all worked up over receiving help. He’d managed just fine in the past.

But you’re not managing just fine right now, Alex, he reminded himself. Pick up the phone.

“Hello?” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice level.

“Hi,” came a voice on the other end. It was an airy, soft-spoken lady, and though Alex couldn’t see her he could imagine her sat in her office, surrounded by motivational posters and dreamcatchers, wearing far too many scarves. “My name is Elizabeth. I’m calling for your mental health assessment. I just need to confirm who I’m speaking to.”

“Alex Mercer,” he said, glad he could answer that first question right at the very least. And sure, maybe the other questions he would be asked didn’t have specific right or wrong answers, but he still felt as if he had something to prove with them. Here at least he knew what he was doing.

“And your age and date of birth please, Alex,” Elizabeth asked. He could hear the faint scratching of a pen on paper.

“I’m eighteen and my birthday is the first of August.”

A tiny voice in the back of his mind questioned him, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to overthink so quickly. He knew what his own birthday was.

“Great, thank you, Alex,” Elizabeth said. “So I’m just going to talk you through how this will work quickly, okay? I’ll try not to take too long with the whole assessment, I know sometimes talking on the phone or talking to strangers can be tricky. All that’s really going to happen is that we’ll have a little chat, I’ll ask you about your life and your mental health. Everything we say will be confidential, the only other person who’ll find out is the person we assign as your counsellor. All I need you to do is be as honest as possible when you answer the questions. Is that all okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. His throat felt tight with worry but he did his best to ignore it. Elizabeth sounded like a lovely lady and the whole point of this was that he would stop being anxious, or at least learn to manage it better. Maybe this bit was hard, but it would only get easier as time went on. “That’s alright.”

“Fantastic,” she said. “Okay, Alex, we’ll start with the most obvious question: why do you want to come to us for counselling?”

He told her what he had told Willie, just with fewer tears. He could feel them stinging the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His voice stayed level but only because he forced it too.

From then on, it seemed like fairly quickfire questions. Elizabeth didn’t linger on any one aspect of Alex’s life so long that it made Alex uncomfortable, as if she was just sizing him up rather than trying to properly inspect him.

“Who do you live with, Alex?”

“My parents and my little sister, but I don’t spend a lot of time at home.”

“Do you not get on with them?” she asked. Her tone made her sound curious rather than concerned and somehow that was a lot easier for Alex to respond to. She just wanted to know – she wasn’t worried about it.

“My little sister’s fine, but not my parents.”

“Where do you stay instead?”

“My boyfriend’s apartment.”

Pen scratching on paper again.

“How’s your relationship with your boyfriend?” Elizabeth asked.

It was one of the only questions Alex felt confident answering. “My relationship with Willie is the best thing in my life.”

He thought he could hear Elizabeth’s smile as she said, “I’m very glad to hear that, Alex.”

She asked him about his friendships and he told her that they were strong. When she asked who his best friend was he momentarily panicked because he didn’t know which of his friends to choose – they all meant the world to him in different ways – but settled on Carrie. He explained that he was in a band with most of his other friends and that it was one of the only things that made him feel relaxed.

Elizabeth asked about school and Alex told her about his exams, how the stress of them definitely wasn’t doing his mind any good. She asked about his grades and he told her that they were high but he worried about keeping them that way. She asked him if he was part of any clubs or teams and he said he was on the cross-country team but didn’t find much enjoyment in it anymore.

It was odd, he thought absently. As he spoke to Elizabeth, he not only found himself being open and honest with her but also with himself. Half the things he told her were things he hadn’t thought about until she brought them up, and realising that he worried about grades more than he’d thought and that he didn’t want to be on the running team was more of a surprise to him that it should have been. He noticed more and more things about himself as he went on, things he probably never would have realised otherwise, and it sparked a little flame of hope inside him that maybe this counselling was already being beneficial to him.

The assessment was over much more quickly than Alex had thought it would take. Elizabeth told him that she was happy to put him on the waiting list and that she would be in touch when a counsellor became available. After a friendly goodbye, Alex put the phone down and took a few minutes to collect himself before heading out into the living room of Willie’s apartment to tell him how well it had gone.

*

It was a month or two before Alex heard from the charity again. He got another email, this one telling him the time and location of his first appointment. He showed up on the day, Willie by his side, feeling the worst he’d felt in weeks.

“Hey,” Willie said gently as Alex just stared at the door, his stomach flipping at the thought of even pressing the intercom. “Just remember you’re doing this to help yourself. I believe in you, hotdog. You’ve got this.”

Alex pulled Willie into a brief hug, but disentangled himself quickly and pressed the intercom before his adrenaline disappeared and he had another chance to dwell on it.

“Hello,” came the voice of the receptionist inside. “How can I help?”

“My name is Alex Mercer, I’m here for my counselling session,” he said. He wasn’t sure how much of his sentence actually sounded like words, the entire thing having been rushed out on one breath, but the receptionist seemed to get it. The lock on the door clicked open.

“Come on in, you can sit in the waiting room and your counsellor will come and get you soon.”

Alex took a deep breath and pushed the door open, Willie following close behind him as the two of them walked into the building. The waiting room was on the left as soon as they walked in so they took their seats beside each other. There was hardly anyone else in there – the receptionist was sat behind the desk in the corner, there was a lady flicking through a magazine on the other side of the waiting room, and a young man was sat with a toddler, trying to keep the little boy still when clearly all he wanted to do was run around. The walls were covered in posters, most of them either with motivation quotes on them or symptoms of different mental health issues. Alex had to tear his eyes away from the anxiety one, his hands rubbing together in his lap restlessly.

They weren’t sat there for very long when a kind-looking man poked his head into the waiting room and scanned it. When his eyes landed on Alex and Willie, a small smile grew on his face.

“Alex Mercer?” he asked.

Alex stood up and wiped his sweaty hands down on his trousers. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” the man said. “I’m Graham, I’ll be your counsellor. Is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, this is Willie,” Alex said, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Hi,” they said, “great to meet you.”

“You too,” Graham said. “Alex, Willie can come in with you for a little bit if you think that would make you more comfortable, or he could stay here in the waiting room and it’ll just be you and I in there. Whatever you prefer.”

Alex cast a glance at Willie who just gave him a reassuring smile. Your call, their expression said, I’m here for you no matter what.

“I’d rather go in alone,” Alex decided.

Graham nodded, smiling genially. “That’s alright. If you’d like to follow me then.”

Sending one last look to Willie (who gave Alex a thumbs up and mouthed ‘you got this’), Alex followed Graham out of the waiting room, up a flight of stairs, and into a smaller room on the second floor. There was hardly anything in there but a desk with a laptop on it and two chairs positioned opposite each other, a coffee table between them with a lamp and a box of tissues on it. Graham sat down in one chair and gestured for Alex to sit in the other.

“Alright, Alex,” Graham said, donning his glasses and picking up a pen and paper. “How are you feeling about being here today?”

“I’m a little nervous,” Alex told him. “But you know… it’s something I’ve got to do, right?”

Graham nodded. “Looking at your assessment, I think you made the right decision in coming to us. I just want to briefly explain what will be happening in these sessions – I’m going to be doing CBT. Do you know what that is?”

Alex shook his head.

“CBT stands for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy,” Graham explained. “As people, we have thoughts. Those thoughts influence our mood, which then influences our behaviour, which influences our thoughts. It’s a cycle. When our thoughts or our behaviours turn negative, it can lead to mental health problems like yours. What CBT aims to do is change the thought processes and behaviours that lead to things like your anxiety. With me so far?”

Alex nodded.

“We aren’t going to start that today,” Graham said. Alex breathed a sigh of relief and Graham chuckled at it, but not in a way that made Alex feel like he was being made fun of. “Today we’re just going to get to know each other a bit, we’ll go over the information I’ve got from your assessment in a little more detail, and then I’ve got a questionnaire for you to fill out. Sound good?”

“Good,” Alex said. Well, he supposed, getting one word out was better than none at all.

Graham pulled out a few sheets of paper and the two of them spent the next half hour or so going over the assessment Elizabeth had conducted. It was a lot more detailed, a lot more personal, and Alex needed to think about himself a lot more than he would have liked, but it was made easier by Graham’s easy-going personality and the fact that Alex’s knew it was all necessary. He wasn’t being judged for any of it, he was just helping Graham help him.

It just felt like a chat with a friend. When they talked about Alex’s parents and he explained they weren’t supporting of his sexuality, Graham said, “When I told my folks that I’m bisexual they had a similar reaction. I understand it – you’re not alone, Alex.”

And as he said that, Alex really felt it was true. He was understood here. He wasn’t alone.

They talked about Alex’s trouble sleeping, how he worried about the little things rather than anything really important, how he was a picky eater, and every detail that seemed insignificant but clearly meant something to Graham. It felt a little invasive, but the environment was comfortable, so Alex didn’t really mind sharing. It was ridiculously easy to say everything on his mind and so much more freeing than keeping his emotions bottled up like normal.

“Alright then,” Graham said eventually. “All I’ve got left is this questionnaire. It’ll take you through forty-seven questions and all of the answers give you a choice between always, often, sometimes, or never. Sometimes it’s quite obvious what the question is getting at – there’s one about repetitive routines that’s obviously about OCD – but I want you to answer as honestly as possible, don’t even think about what it might do to your results. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “that’s fine.”

Graham led Alex through the questionnaire, selecting the answers on his laptop. Alex tried to answer quickly, not giving himself time to overthink it, but a few of the simplest ones stumped him. He’d never thought about how much he thought about death, he’d never paid any mind to his specific behaviours. But still, he answered as best he could and the questions were over relatively quickly.

“Looking at your results,” Graham said, pushing his glasses further up his nose and squinting at the laptop screen, “you answered most highly for general anxiety – you got twenty-nine for that. Then social anxiety, you got twenty. Depression and low mood, you got sixteen. For panic disorder you got fourteen, eleven for OCD, and five for separation anxiety. Does any of that surprise you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alex told him, laughing at himself a little. It was exactly what he would have expected from himself – he wasn’t quite sure what the numbers really meant, but having general anxiety at the top wasn’t a shock to him.

“So what we’ll do each week from now on is fill out a smaller one of those, but it will be more focused on general anxiety, only eight or nine questions long. And we’ll start your CBT next week so these little questionnaires will be very helpful to track your progress. But that’s it for this week! You’re done, Alex, you made it!”

Alex felt himself smile. He’d done it. It hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be – it felt like there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe easily. His mind briefly wandered back to how anxious he’d been to even press the intercom outside; now he felt the lightest he’d been in as long as he could remember.

He and Graham said their goodbyes and Alex made his way back down to the waiting room to see get Willie. When he saw the bright smile Alex wore, Willie’s face lit up and he beamed.

“How was that?” they asked, immediately slipping his hand into Alex’s.

“Really good,” Alex told them. Willie’s face softened – there was a definite look of pride in their eyes and Alex knew it was for him. “I’m glad I’m doing this.”

Standing up on his tiptoes, Willie pressed a featherlight kiss to Alex’s cheek. “I’m glad. I’m proud of you, hotdog.”

“I’m proud of me too,” Alex said. For the first time in a very long while, he actually meant it.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

[bonesgadh]

My opinion on what the future may hold for Gendrya (or a shipper’s desperate rant).

This is a very long post. It basically consists of me analizing evidence that points to Arya and Gendry being endgame. The reason why I decided to write this is because I want to give hope to some Gendrya shippers out there who were left pretty devastated after what happened on Sunday. Of course I can’t know for sure if all this shit will mean anything in the end, for all I know the failed proposal was Gendrya’s last scene and we are facing a bigger heartbreak. Still I wanted to share with you the reasons why I’m feeling optimistic and I really hope I can make you feel optimistic as well. Please forgive any grammar/spelling mistakes because, although I do my best, english is not my first language :)

First, some shout-outs:

To @chocolatecarstairs for this wonderful post that points out how Arya and Gendry are pretty much redoing their story. You gave me the idea to write this :)

To @captainfangirlll for reminding me we still haven’t seen Gendry addressing Arya’s scars. I had forgotten that very important detail.

To @miladyaryastark for proving nothing is more effective than a fan with a quest and providing evidence that the show will go back to Storm’s End at some point.

To every fan who has mentioned how this recent turn of events is basically a live action version of “My Featherbed”, especially @ladywolfandbastardbull and @forehead451 for these two wonderful analysis.

 Last but not least to my mom™ for ranting with me every day of this damn week. Love you mom :)

Okay, let’s begin:

The “I reject you not because I don’t love you, but because I’m not ready to be with you” scene

I was born in the Bones fandom. Those of you who have followed me since I first got into this hellfire of a website know it. Temperance Brennan is my life guru and there’s no show, book or movie that has taught me more about love and life than Bones. 

When the now infamous episode 4 aired I saw a striking similitude between the Gendrya scene and a scene from the 100th episode of Bones. I don’t know if you have ever seen the show but the main couple are Booth & Brennan. He has been in love with her for a while and on that episode he finally makes his move and tells her he wants to give their relationship a shot. Brennan rejects him but you can tell she is suffering because she also has feelings for him, although she doesn’t want to risk ruining their relationship and she doesn’t want to take a leap of faith because her life is basically shit and she has been burnt before. Eventually and after some angst —him getting into a relationship with someone else, jealous Brennan— she realizes she loves him too and decides to give her relationship with Booth a shot and they have a baby and get married —although she said she would never do it— and they live happily ever after.

The Gendrya scene follows a very similar path. There’s an undeniable attraction between Arya and Gendry, an attraction that is years in the making. Although Arya was the first one to make her move with the whole “we are probably going to die” line, you could say them having sex only happened because it was an extreme situation and because of the threat of imminent death. Now that they have left that behind Gendry makes his move and confesses his love to Arya *sobs*, only to be rejected by her in a kind but still very sad way, and his heart clearly shatters in a million pieces.

I’m gonna take a risk here and say I know Arya pretty well —I identify with her a lot, actually—, and I’m certain one of the reasons behind her rejection is her fear of giving her heart to Gendry only to lose him as she has lost everything she has ever loved. Every person who has suffered loss, especially catastrophic loss develops a fear of attachment because they know firsthand that nothing lasts forever, and they are scared of being hurt again. Like they said in Grey’s Anatomy (back when it was good): “Fears means you have something to lose”; it was obvious Arya was terrified during the Battle of Winterfell and there were also traces of fear in her face as Gendry word-vomited his feelings for her. This has been said a lot in other posts so it might come across as repetitive, but Arya has lost so much and she is not willing to lose anything else (ironically by rejecting Gendry she is “losing him”, but at least she believes he still has a chance of finding happiness with another woman like @apiratecalledav mentions here.  Selflessness with a bit of the good ole self destruction).

Still, I firmly believe Arya will recapacitate and something will happen that will make her realize what she feels for Gendry is worth fighting for. My guess is it’ll have something to do with The Hound (you can read my theory below), and whatever happens will show her that it’s okay to be scared of loss, but that life is better when you are with those you love, even if it’s just for a little while. When she comes to this realization she will feel comfortable enough to let Gendry know how she really feels about him, how afraid she is of losing him again and how she is willing to fight her own demons in order to find peace and happiness with him, something that is long overdue (just like it happens on Bones. Seriously, you should watch it if you haven’t already. It’s full of life lessons).

Arya’s final lesson

I already wrote this in another post, you can read it here. The Hound will be crucial for our ship to stay alive.

Arya’s issue with letting go/Being “torn”

When Gendry tells Arya she is beautiful and that he loves her, her face is a very interesting mix of surprise, fear and awe. She is clearly so overwhelmed with what he just said that she can’t bring herself to say a word, because he literally took her breath away with his kiss. It’s quite an unusual reaction on Arya’s part as she always seems to be so calm and prepared for anything, which says a lot of how much Gendry’s lovely speech caught her off guard. I can’t help but wonder what she would’ve said if he hadn’t proposed, if his speech had ended with “None of it will be worth anything if you are not with me”.

One of Arya’s main traits is her issue with letting go. She can’t let go of her desire of returning to Winterfell, she can’t let go of Needle when Jaqen asks her to, she can’t let go of her identity as Arya Stark, she can’t let go of her list and her thirst of revenge even though she defeated the personification of death and a man gave his life for her to live. But if there’s one thing Arya hasn’t been able to let go as well is her feelings for Gendry. Maisie said it herself, the moment Arya reconnects with him she can’t help but remember the girl she used to be and how she was so in love with Gendry she was willing to follow him to the end of the world. Back in seasons 2 and 3 Arya was still a girl who wanted to be with Gendry but his mind was clearly set on something else. Now it’s the other way around, Gendry is head over heels in love with Arya but her mind is set on something else. 

Now that Arya’s old feelings for Gendry have risen to the surface, my guess is they will be addressed on the next two episodes because his proposal clearly shook her to her foundations. She will be torn —as Maisie said she would— between her thirst for revenge and her desire of being with Gendry and fulfilling a dream she had when she was thirteen years old. This will obviously be very hard for her because her list is what kept her alive all those years she spent away from home, it’s like giving up your lifesaver because you are ready to learn how to swim. And I want my girl to give that step, to chose life (yes I know you are tired of reading that expression everywhere but I can’t think of a better way to describe her options).

The three acts

This fucking show loves foreshadowing and mirroring scenes. Thanks to @chocolatecarstairs amazing post I noticed we have seen Gendrya complete two full cycles.

Cycle #1  

Arya and Gendry meet in King’s Landing.

Gendry defends Arya from Hot Pie.

Arya tells Gendry about her real identity.

Arya shows traces of being attracted to Gendry.

Arya asks Gendry to go with her to Winterfell and says she can be his family.

Gendry refuses her proposal in a very gentile way because he believes his fate to be somewhere else, and because he isn’t drawn to serving others forever.

Gendry leaves (unintentionally but still) and she goes with The Hound to Winterfell.

End of the first act.

Cycle #2

Arya and Gendry meet again in Winterfell.

Arya defends Gendry from The Hound.

Gendry tells Arya about his real identity.

Gendry shows traces of being attracted to Arya.

Gendry asks Arya to marry him and to be the Lady of Storm’s End.

Arya refuses his proposal in a very gentile way because (we assume) she believes her fate to be somewhere else, and because she isn’t drawn to the life he is offering her as a lord.

Arya leaves and she goes with The Hound to King’s Landing.

End of the second act.

At this point they are pretty much even. Now some people would take this as proof they have come full circle and that their story is over, but I disagree. Cycle #3 is still yet to unfold and I’m betting a large sum of money they will repeat the process one last time. If my analysis of @chocolatecarstairs analysis (Lol) is correct, my guess is their story is following the A-B-A structure.

They meet in King’s Landing (his birthplace)—they see each other again in Winterfell (her birthplace) —therefore they will reunite in King’s Landing (back to his birthplace and where their relationship began).

She is shown to be attracted to him—he is shown to be attracted to her—she will be shown to be attracted to him (although they kind of already showed that but work with me).

She told him she loved him (or that’s how I interpret the “I can be your family” quote)—he told her he loved her—now she will be the one to tell him she loves him.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome, right? Well, if they actually want to be together, they will need to do something to disrupt the pattern (something Bones also taught me). Now, how will they do it?

Let’s play attention to this scene that has already been referenced:

She asks him to come with her to Winterfell but he refuses—He asks her to come with him to Storm’s End but she refuses—?

AHA! Here’s where the pattern will break!

My guess is the key is in the final moment that will be mirrored:

“Last time you saw me you wanted me to come to Winterfell. Took the long road, but…”

(I don’t know if he says ��road” or something that sounds very similar. If I’m wrong feel free to correct me).

Thanks to @miladyaryastark’s post I learned they filmed some stuff in the Cushendun Caves, which was used as location for Storm’s End back in season 2. It was actually the last known location for season 8 although I don’t think we have any idea who filmed there (logic points to Joe because Gendry is the new Lord but who knows?) Anyway, let’s suspend reality for a second and suppose both Joe and Maisie filmed there. I would love a callback to Gendry’s quote but this time Arya is the one who delivers it:

“Last time you saw me you wanted me to come to Storm’s End. Took the long road, but…”

And this is how this scene would bring an end to the third act of their story:

Gendry leaves Arya—Gendry returns to her—Arya leaves Gendry—Arya returns to him.

It would even be a different structurem from A-B-A to A-B-A-B. 

Full circle.

I would die if a scene like that makes it to the finale.

The symbolism of Arya’s target practice

We have seen Arya practicing her archery and being interrupted by Gendry twice now. First time in episode 2 and then in episode 4. My mom™ says both scenes are extremely symbolic and perfectly represent their relationship. Let me elaborate:

Arya’s archery practice is meant to represent her goal of killing Cersei. Why? Because when you are practicing archery you are basically aiming for a target. You need to concentrate in order to hit it, and a little distraction can cause you to miss. Arya’s main desire is to kill Cersei, she is her target. That’s why she looks so concentrated as she shoots and why she pretty much hides to practice, she is not willing to let anything or anyone distract her from her objective. She kills the Night King and instead of celebrating with the others, she chooses to go back to focus on her target instead. The Long Night was a distraction, but now she’s ready to return to her goal.

Along comes Gendry.

As I just mentioned, the first time he interrupts her is in episode 2 when he delivers her weapon. She makes a pause in her practice (a.k.a. her mission) to talk to him and, you know, ride him. The second time happens in episode 4, when Gendry literally comes between her and her target and she almost pierces his head with an arrow. This time she also makes a pause to listen to what he is saying to her, she even puts down the bow for a moment as she kisses him. After she rejects his proposal she goes back to shooting arrows, which symbolizes her returning to her target.

What can we conclude from this? That Gendry is the only one who can literally make her turn away from her target (wow I’m using the world “literally” too much). He can get her to forget about her objective, even if it’s only for a little while. He is her distraction, and I believe he will be the reason why she won’t be the one to kill Cersei.

Arya’s scars

Another thing my mom™ pointed out regarding Arya’s scars (thanks @captainfangirlll for reminding us the director said they will be important) is the fact that no one else besides Gendry has seen them. She noticed this, which probably caught her off guard because he is the first person she shows them to. You look at Arya and the first thing that catches your eye is her cold demeanor and seemingly overconfident attitude, you would never imagine her body is full of scars that remind her all the time someone tried to kill her and almost succeeds. Her scars represent her vulnerability, that she can be hurt, that’s why she hasn’t shown them to anybody. But Gendry saw them. The moment she catches him staring at them she demands him to take his pants off. She doesn’t want him to stare because that gives him an intel of how vulnerable she really is, and she doesn’t like that. He literally saw her scars which is very symbolic. I don’t think anyone has seen her that naked since she was a baby tbh.

The live action version of “My Featherbed”

I don’t have much to say about this because other fans have made a much better job than me (@ladywolfandbastardbull and @forehead451 for example). What I can say is I’m certain the lyrics of the song will play an important part :) 

I honestly have no idea how Gendrya will end the show. Will they marry? I have no idea. Will Gendry give up his newfound fame and fortune to sail west of Westeros with her? Probably. Will Arya realize she doesn’t have to be a traditional lady and that Gendry would never ask her to be something she is not? Hopefully. Will Gendry be crowned King and Arya will go back to Winterfell, never to see each other again? God, I hope not. 

But what I believe, in my heart, is that they will be endgame. How? If only I knew. Maisie said Arya’s arc this season revolves around her regaining her humanity and finding herself after years of misery. Joe said Gendry’s arc is very tightly linked to Arya’s. They brought Gendry back to make a statement, for us to see a side of Arya we hadn’t really seen before. For her to remember the person she used to be and the one she could still be. Remember this until May 19th. Don’t give into despair. For the love of God, get the fuck away from reddit and spoilers. Trust in the story they have told us since season 1.

Feel free to share your opinions with me. I only ask you, for the love of all that is holy, to NOT post spoilers or pseudo leaks. I don’t want to know and there are others who don’t want to know either. Please respect our decision :)

*Don’t Stop Believing plays in the background*

[theawkwardterrier]

2018 fic roundup

Buffyverse

well tell her that I miss our little talks So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again) Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened

MCU

But A Walking Shadow Out of the Frying Pan Hand in Hand, Side by Side to walk to where you are sleeping To The Neighborhood Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? By Those Who Show Up Stitch Together In Spirit of the Season Childhood Friends

Veronica Mars

not just about being new (it’s about a change)

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?:

Still not predicting, but probably around the predictable amount? I've gotten a little longer, I think, but I'm writing fewer stories overall, and I've really fallen into a few specific fandom categories - haven't added a new one in a while.

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?:

Dick/OC. Dick/anyone was a surprise. I'm generally frustrated and uninterested in Dick, so taking him on as a main character - when typically he's been a side role in my fic at best - is unexpected. I was just really drawn to the prompt.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

I'm really proud of To The Neighborhood. I like the POV, I think the character flowed well, it has a particular tone throughout, and everything is built using small details without info dumps. And I'm always a big fan of domesticity too - sweet, settled life is always a joy for me to write!

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

It's weird to say at this point, but I think I've been playing around with AUs a little too much. Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) and Hand in Hand, Side by Side are really prime examples of this: they aren't just timeline changes or ways of placing the characters in similar roles in non supernatural settings, they are way, way big and entire AUs. I really like them conceptually - ya girl loves a good (or not good!) romcom - but they are really quite out of the ordinary. I guess I learned that I kinda don't care - I wrote it because I liked it, and I had fun with it!

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Nah. I finished my Woman Borne sequel, which was the goal I had set at the beginning of last year, and I'm probably just going to resign my work on my too ambitious Chase/Cameron fic, so I'm good.

6. From my past year of writing, what was…

Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe:

But A Walking Shadow. I'm not afraid to say how sad I am about this. I'm really, intensely proud of this story: the writing is good, the characters are good, it's lengthy (for me), it's chapter fic, it's part of a universe I've already worked on, there's action instead of just Emotional Talking - it felt like I did everything right, and it still didn't make a difference.

Most Fun:

Hand in Hand, Side by Side probably - I like Steve/Peggy and a Virtue/Moir AU for them was a blast to write. But I actually had a lot of fun with a bunch of them!

Most Disappointing:

By Those Who Show Up is a little too liberal wonky - too much political talk, not quite enough emotional buildup. To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened is also a little exhausting and repetitive in concept and would have probably been better if there were more substance between the little stories, but I really like the title, so that helps it out.

Most Sexy:

Steve and Peggy end up in a bed and kiss there in Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? so ha ha ha, that is extremely sexy!

Hardest to Write:

They kinda ended up in either the "it took four days from beginning to final edit" category, or the "I'm afraid I might just be writing this for the next several years" one this time around. I took a lot of care with But A Walking Shadow, and I stopped writing Childhood Friends for a while to work on other stuff and there was a point where I couldn't make In Spirit of the Season not incredibly depressing and a piece of Peggy character assassination, but most of my Buffy fics were like this (well tell her that I miss our little talks was the exception - that's why it's listed as posted like three weeks before the rest of them).

Most Unintentionally Telling:

As I was writing In Spirit of the Season, I literally said aloud, "I think I might have something weird going on internally with motherhood."

Choice Lines:

From But A Walking Shadow:

The force of her fingers, the directness of her gaze: for a moment he fears that she is about to kiss his mouth with the desperate confidence he’d felt before he’d boarded Schmidt’s plane. But instead, she leans up and presses her lips beneath his ear. He shivers; he always does, there, and she knows that.

He just can’t think of the noise and the flames, the collapse, when his mind and heart and guts weigh so human inside him.

The anger is worn and so tired inside of him.

"I don’t want to kill you,” says the man, pushing the words out. The soldier's arm, built to last, built to kill, shakes at the thought that he will die gasping. “And I don’t want to die. And I can’t bring you to meet my family like this.” His frame trembles. His eyes are magnified, wide as the stars.

There is such future and fragility in yet.

He remembers the way she fit in two hands the first time he held her, how she sometimes trips downstairs and curls up sleepily in his lap when he comes back from a run early in the morning. He loves her so much. Finally, he hugs her. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he says, and lets her go.

From to walk to where you are sleeping:

“Enough is enough,” she tells herself most mornings, when she wakes up gritty-eyed and already teary from dreaming. “Enough is enough,” when she wants to tell Steve about her day, when she spots hair like his from the corner of her eye, when she has another lonely cup of tea at her table, when she wants just a bit of his optimism to drive her onward. “It was two years out of more than twenty, it is time to be done with mourning, enough is enough.” And then one night she opens her eyes into the darkness of her bedroom and tells herself, “Enough.”

He is here, he is here: what fragile and disturbing joy.

She watched so many good people die - not just Steve, not just her brother, but the boys who came from her home village, and the sweet air force pilot she’d kissed on the New Year of 1940, and the lady who’d sold ice cream through the Blitz and been suffocated by an improperly constructed Anderson shelter - and perhaps she doesn’t have to turn her grief out of doors and lock herself up.

From To The Neighborhood:

For a moment, she regrets not having one of those emergency call buttons that her daughter Joan (Dr. Oglethorpe hasn’t been allowed to call her Joanie in years) recommends when she makes her monthly call from Columbus, or at least a cellular phone.

From Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling?:

Steve rests his hands on her wrists, so gentle, and she wants to cry. “Peg,” he says quietly, “can you maybe track me down a pair of pants? I know my legs aren’t really working yet, but I’ve had enough of showing off in a hospital gown for one lifetime.”

From By Those Who Show Up:

“Hell yeah,” says Bucky. “I was over there ten years and only lost an arm. Six months of doing this with you and I’ve basically lost my life.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinning up top, Steve, I swear to God.”

From well tell her that I miss our little talks:

(Note to self: start organizing things on the kitchen calendar. Note to self: get a kitchen calendar.)

There's basically cartoony whistling sound, like her optimism is Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff.

She hugged a pillow against her chest. She’d sign him up for a couple of community college mailing lists; maybe sitting in the back of some dense philosophy class would remind him why college wasn’t for everyone, or at least distract him. Her luck: he’d get all nerdy enthusi-Angel and just double down on the college fun talk. She really missed him. “Anyway,” she recalled herself. “I’m thinking maybe going all in on the spick and span could have something to do with you turning the dial up to Angel on the Broodometer.”

"....You’re allowed to think that you’re worth more than him, even if he was the one with the pulse.”

From So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again):

Also, Angel has to be worried about being ‘busted, and not just in the Dust way.

How glad she is for him, knowing what he’s been through, knowing for herself how frightening it is to dangle unsupported and exhaust yourself hoping for a loving hand.

When Willow is like this, firm steps and a commanding voice, closed eyes as she puts a hand on the last sorcerer's shoulder, it’s hard for Buffy to hold in her mind Willow shy and sweet at sixteen. But then Will nods to Buffy, and without a thought, Buffy fells the robed woman. They’ve both changed. Neither of them will ever be sixteen again.

From Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?):

“No. I’m counting on you to do the right thing for everyone, even if it might happen to include you.” 

From To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened:

“He was younger than I am now, and older than you would want to be.” 

From Childhood Friends:

Peggy, who had spent the afternoon she received the letter holding the hand of a boy - and he had been a boy - as he screamed and screamed toward death, had delayed replying, as she had not been able to summon a response to such grievances for nearly a week.

That she had spent her childhood at this very house with her dresses in a hopeless muddle and her knees insistently grass-stained, and that Steve had recently seen her in both a wrinkled nurse’s uniform after a night shift and indifferent mourning crepe below a tear-stained face, made her only more determined to put her best foot forward in this encounter.

...and Peggy concentrated on the feeling of his hand in hers, on the heat of him through his jacket, and felt despair and grave hope.

But her husband, who remembered a similar expression on his own mother’s face when he had professed his intention to marry Amanda, upon hearing whose surname even Charles II would have replied “Whom?” pulled her toward himself once more and said only, “Let them dance.”

[denimwrites-archive]

“I love you, dumbass!”

Prompt: Not a request - The way you said “I love you.” prompt list #3- A scream and #15- Loud, so everyone can hear

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Pairing: Connor Murphy X Reader

Summary: You were tired of Connor pushing you away. You attempted to talk to him, but he only responded when he was high, nevertheless you keep trying. It starts to get better with the help of a certain meme man, but three words are the key to saving your relationship with Connor.

Word Count: 5,706

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned homelessness, talk of mental illness?, and drug use

A/N: Okay I’m not super good at angst, but I gave it a shot. Also I’ve never been high or anything so god knows if I even portrayed it correctly. Plus I said something about Larry working from home which I have no idea if that’s canon or not but I think that that’s one of the reasons why Larry and Connor are at odds because it’s just like one of them is always there meaning they’re always at each other’s throats?? (Also Artist!Connor). (Sorry for repetitiveness, this probably sucks but I spent way too long on it so I’m just going to post it).

~~~

This was the last straw. Connor had ignored you practically all summer, responding to your texts days later with only one word or maybe just an emoji. You had tried to respect his wish to be left alone, but you had wanted to check up on him at least once a week. That isn’t bad considering at the end of Junior year you two had been hanging out almost everyday after school.

You thought that maybe it was just the summer changing him since he had to spend more time with the family that didn’t understand him, but then you heard from Zoe that he had barely been home that summer. Disappearing early in the morning and usually sneaking back into his room after everyone had already gone to bed.

You wished you could have seen him over the summer, but you got a job as a camp counselor that was a few hours away. It was an okay experience, but you missed your home and your friend. When you were finally making your way home at the end of the summer, you couldn’t think of anything but hanging out with Connor again, making fun of the other stupid teenagers and complaining about homework and worrying about the future, together.

When the first day of senior year rolled around and you finally saw him in the hallway, you ran up to him, a big smile on your face, expecting at least something that said he was happy to see you. But all that met you was an angry Connor who slammed his locker and stormed past you before you could even say ‘hi’.

You stood there stunned for a good minute, the annoying voice of Jared Kleinman finally snapping you out of your trance. “Sorry, (Y/N), looks like Connor finally stopped believing in your ‘friendship’.”

“Shut it, Kleinman,” you said, brushing past him on your way to class. You sat through all the shitty first day icebreakers and the going over of summer materials, not really paying attention as your mind raced over all of your summer interactions with Connor, and even back to the end of junior year.

You couldn’t think of anything that could have caused him to be so angry at you. Your brow furrowed as you made your way to the cafeteria, you got in the lunch line and got some food. Scanning the room you see Connor sitting by himself at a table in the corner. You set your shoulders, take a deep breath, and make your way over to him, ready to stand your ground.

As you approached his table, Connor looked up at you and you could see his eyes soften slightly before his eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at his plate in almost disgust. That look was supposed to be aimed at you, your mind said. You shook your head slightly and sat across from him, not scared of his apparent anger.

You didn’t say anything as you began eating. You paid him no mind, even when you could feel his gaze on you. If he wanted space, then he would have to be a big boy and use his words to tell you as such instead of pushing you away.

When you both had finished eating, you finally looked at him and he was looking at you. He was definitely less angry now, but his face still didn’t hold the friendly look that he used to aim at you whenever you two were together. You took a deep breath, about to say something, when he abruptly said, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

You sat there looking at him in confusion with your mouth slightly open for a few moments, completely unsure of what he was asking. When you didn’t immediately answer, Connor stood up and grabbed his things, leaving his lunch tray behind as he left the cafeteria. You were still frozen, trying to comprehend what the hell he meant by his question.

However, you did notice when the cafeteria went mostly silent to watch Connor leave and then stare at you. Snapping out of your thoughts, you glance around you and the normal sounds of high school started once again. You furrowed your brows at your lunch tray and the tray that still lay in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your stuff and both trays, throwing them away as you head out of the cafeteria.

You didn’t know where you were going but you knew that you had to get away from people for a while. Heading out the school’s back door, you made you made your way to the football field. Quickly climbing the stairs of the bleachers, you took a seat and started rummaging through your backpack, looking for anything to distract your from the thoughts in your head.

But when you reached for the book you had to read for english, you heard a voice coming from underneath you. Just great, you thought, first I have Connor being a moody bitch, then Kleinman has to be an ass and make things worse, and now I can’t even try to have a second of peace to myself.

You get up, and work your way back down the bleachers, bookbag in hand, then look for a way underneath them so you can see who decided to be a wise ass and encroach on your spot. When you finally found the culprit though, you started to turn around, not wanting to get your head bitten off by Connor again. But when he saw you, he called out to you. Slowly turning back around to face him, you see the smoke that permeated around him and realize that he was getting high.

You sigh, slightly in relief but also from the memories of the random stuff he would say when high. You had learned that there were different kinds of stoners, and Connor was more of a relaxed stoner, something that you never thought you would be grateful for before now. As you made your way closer, he patted the spot next to him and you cautiously took a seat, setting your bag next to you.

To your surprise he put an arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to him. You sat in his half embrace rigidly, unsure of what you were really doing. He didn’t say anything, just smoking and looking off into space. Sometimes he would give your shoulders a squeeze and you’d look at him only to find him already looking at you with an actual smile on his face.

You smiled back and gave him a slight bump with your shoulder which caused a laugh to escape from him. You smiled and laughed with him. Then he was smiling. And your heart started to beat just a little bit faster. Even with the shit way Connor had been treating you lately, you still couldn’t help the butterflies that formed in your stomach whenever he was happy. You really wish it happened more often.

Soon enough he was actually talking. He spoke his sentences at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to convey their full meaning. He was talking about how shitty life at home was and how Larry thought he was such a screw up and his mom tried to understand him but could never see things from his perspective. Zoe was always on his nerves, and even if he didn’t mean to he always let his anger out on her, cause she was the closest target.

That much wasn’t really new, but he went on to explain that over the summer, things had gotten worse since there was no school to get away from his parents, especially Larry. With him working from home, it was nothing but constant scrutiny for Connor. So he would just leave. He would wander around town and get lost. Hike through the woods and end up sleeping outside. He was almost homeless, only stopping by for a new sketchpad, pencils, change of clothes, or a shower. And even then, when he came to do stuff he made sure that no one knew he was there.

“It was just better to disappear than deal with all of that bullshit, you know?” he asks. You nod, and he continues to talk about some of the cool people at the park that he would sometimes sketch. He was talking about this one plant near his favorite people-watching spot when he suddenly went quiet.

When you looked up at him, he was just staring at you again. You give him a quick nudge and then he shakes his head slightly before looking at the ground in front of him, still not saying anything. As you’re about to ask him something, he turns back to you and says, “I don’t know why you want to be friends with the school shooter. I mean you’re just too nice to be seen with me so I don’t know why you are. Seen with me. “

“What’s the matter, scared I’ll ruin your bad boy reputation?” you teasingly asked. But then Connor’s head was slightly resting on top of yours and he was mumbling something you couldn’t hear. “What was that, princess?”

“You’re too good for me. No wonder I don’t stand a chance with you.” You’re left dumbfounded at his words and you sit there in shock, Connor’s arm still around your shoulder, his head resting on yours, as his breathing gets more even. Soon enough it’s obvious that he’s asleep. You almost try to get out of his grip, but it’s quickly obvious that that would wake him up, so you sit there quietly contemplating all that he just said.

Your thoughts are still quite a mess by the time that Connor starts to stir sometime later. You shift a little bit when you feel him tense next to you and carefully look up at him, only to see his eyes still hazy but growing harsher by the second. He quickly removed his arm from your shoulder and rose to his feet. You get up without prompting and grab your bag, sulking away from him and back to school before he even utters a word, feeling his glare on your back.

Even with only an hour before school ended, you couldn’t focus on anything that the teacher was saying, your mind racing with all that Connor had said. It definitely explained his shitty communication, but what the hell happened that made him hate you? Or did he like you? You thought it was hard before, now you were all kinds of confused.

Sure you thought Connor was a great guy, but he never seemed interested in you that way, so you didn’t think of him that way. Even if you stole glances of him, looked forward to all of your conversations, and your heart beat just a little bit faster whenever he smiled, it was only because he was a good friend. Totally.

His words ran through your head late into the evening. I don’t stand a chance with you. Who did he think he was competing with? He knew that you disliked pretty much every other person in your grade. Maybe the weed was just making him spew bullshit, you thought to yourself, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he seemed so wishy washy between his words and actions.

You didn’t get much sleep that night with all of those thoughts and possibilities running through your head. So when it came time for school the next morning, you weren’t ready to deal with Jared Kleinman first thing.

“Hey there, (Y/N). How’re things going with the shooter? I heard he was quite the sweetheart yesterday in the cafeteria. Care to comment?” he asked with his usual smirk.

You scoffed at him and continued the walk to your locker, unaware that Jared had decided to saunter after you. He made his presence known again as he slammed your locker door into the ones next to you, causing you to jump. He leaned against the brightly painted doors in an obviously forced casual kind of way.

Glancing at him warily, you start to grab the things you need for your first class. You notice Connor out of the corner of your eye and you take a deep breath, all the thoughts from last night sprinting through your mind. But you decide to take the chance, walking up to him and clearing your throat when he doesn’t immediately notice your presence.

When he finally turns towards you, his annoyed expression turns to something more along the lines of hostility. It almost makes you take a step back, when his smiles from yesterday make their way into your mind, helping you to hold your ground. Squaring your shoulders, you open your mouth to ask him something when he looks behind you and scoffs before pushing past you, knocking into your shoulder as goes.

You turn around confused as to what the hell happened when you see Jared still standing by your locker, staring intently at you. You narrow your eyes at him before marching up to him. “What the hell did you do?” you demand.

“Nothing! What makes you think I did something? He’s the one who always acts like a psychopath.” Jared isn’t looking you in the eye and you know he isn’t saying something, but whatever he did to piss Connor off doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he did it.

“Just leave me and Connor alone, okay Kleinman? I don’t know what your beef with him is, or if you’re really just that much of an asshole that you would mess with him for no reason, but seriously, just drop it. For your own sake.” You slam your locker and walk away from him, not sparing him another glance, missing the slightly hurt look on his face.

The morning ticks by agonizingly slow as you wait for it to be lunch so you can try to straighten things out with Connor again. Finally the bell rings and you rush to the cafeteria, grabbing your lunch and making your way to the same table that you sat at yesterday.

And like yesterday, you set your shoulders, took a deep breath, and made your way to where Connor was sitting. You take a seat across from him, but today you look at him expectantly. This time, he’s the one to ignore you, just sitting there looking at his plate. After a few minutes of waiting for him to at least acknowledge you, you let out a sigh and proceed to eat.

After you’re both done eating, it’s obvious that Connor is just going to try and brush you off again so you reach across the table and grab his hand, but he quickly jerks back and stands, already gearing up to storm off. You attempt to grab his arm again, desperate to get him to listen to you. He makes it quite obvious that he isn’t going to pay attention to anything you have to say, but you follow him anyway as he makes his way into the hallway.

You knew that the cafeteria was watching you chase after him, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Connor seemed to be making his way to the front of the school, probably ready to skip the rest of the day. Knowing you didn’t have much time, and just wanting him to stop ignoring you, you yell after him, “Connor Murphy!”

The other kids milling in the hallway all turn towards you, but his steps don’t falter as he continues to stomp towards his destination. Gritting your teeth in frustration you start running, trying to catch up with him. Damn you, Connor Murphy, and those insanely long legs of yours, you thought.

You’re finally able to step in front of him, but when he moves to step around you, you’re in front of him again. You continue to block him until you hear him sigh in anger and annoyance. “What do you want?” he asks, venom in his voice.

“I want you to be straight with me. I want you to talk to me without sounding like you want to bite my fucking head off when you aren’t stoned out of your mind. I want to know why the hell you didn’t think you could come to me when your summer went to shit. I want to know what happened to my best friend, Connor Murphy.”

He rolls his eyes at you, like you were the one being dramatic, before scoffing and turning away from you, already moving away. You can only stand there and wonder what the hell happened. Feeling something build up in your chest you don’t really know what happens until it already has. Almost like an out of body experience.

You find yourself grabbing ahold of the back of his jacket, pulling him to a stop before marching in front of him and getting into his face, finger poking into his chest as you scream at him. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’m done with it. You are done blowing me off. I don’t care about your problems getting in the way because I will make them my problems too. You aren’t alone in this mess of a world, you moron. So stop acting like you are. Pushing me away isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

Out of breath from your tirade, you finally realize what you just did. Taking a step back you look around to see everyone staring at you, including Connor. He doesn’t look as angry as he did, more surprised than anything else.

As you’re about to say something else, he pushes past you again. You don’t follow him this time, staring at the ground in defeat. You turn around and head back inside the school, through the back and to your spot at the bleachers. You glance below them, even though you know Connor won’t be there, you still hoped that the relaxed Connor of yesterday would be there again so that you could actually have a conversation.

Letting out a long sigh you lean back and look at the clouds, letting time pass by unnoticed. As you zone out of your thoughts you don’t notice what’s happening under the bleachers until you smell a hint of weed. Your heart races as you make your way under the stairs, hoping it’s your stoner. You freeze as he finally comes into sight, obviously higher than he was yesterday by the fact that he doesn’t even notice you sit next to him.

After a few minutes of stillness and silence, you quietly ask, “Connor?”

His unfocused eyes snap to you, and he gives a big smile. “(Y/N)! I was just thinking ‘bout you,” he mumbles. Connor gestures for you to come closer, and you gently ease your way towards him, but when you’re in his arms reach he grabs you and pulls you into his chest. You tense at the contact, thoughts racing with how his sober self probably hates you. As he wraps an arm around you he starts talking to himself about random things.

You don’t even notice it when his hand starts running through your hair, or when his hand rests on your hip, too caught up in your inner dilemma. Slowly you become aware of these things as you start to listen to what Connor is saying. His words seem to float from one subject to another, and as you shift to look up at him, he stops talking just to look at you.

Then he’s talking about you and all the things he admires about you. The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. The look you get on your face whenever Connor teases you about your taste in music. The way your eyebrow furrows when you’re confused by something in class. He continues to talk and you just look at him in amazement, astonished that he noticed all of these things.

Soon he’s just rambling about how cute you are and just listing all your different body parts. “Your elbow is really something, you know that? It’s the cutest fucking elbow I’ve ever seen. Even your wenis is cute. And really moisturized. It’s a nice wenis.” Connor finally noticed your staring and looks deeply into your eyes. You sit there, contemplating everything that he’s said, when he says it. The words that would change everything.

“I love you.”

You sit there speechless. Connor doesn’t seem to mind as he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes soon drifting shut. You carefully shift from under his grip until you’re sitting a few feet away from him, looking at anything other than his sleeping form. You had no idea how to deal with the bombshell he had just dropped. Was that the reason he had been acting like a dick lately? Having to deal with confusing emotions about you while also managing all the shit his parents put on him?

You had no idea how to process it, so you got up and walked back to class, almost numb as your brain focused on nothing but those three simple words that had built and destroyed so many things throughout history.

The rest of your classes bring no answers and as you try to work on homework that night your mind only wants to think about all of the things Connor said leading up to his big confession. It couldn’t just be the weed, right? It was the reason he was telling you, yeah, but his feelings weren’t entirely made by the drug. Or could they be? The same questions from yesterday ran through your mind, but this time they were that much heavier.

The next morning you barely noticed Jared next to your locker, trying to annoy you again or something probably. You didn’t even know why Jared had been hanging around you so much lately since you guys weren’t really friends. Nonetheless, he shakes you out of your thoughts with a poke to your cheek. Rubbing it and giving him a look you ask, “What?”

“Look, I know that it isn’t my place, especially since Connor and I have a mutual-hate agreement, but he just really doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Doing?”

Letting out a sigh, Jared continues, “He doesn’t know that treating you the way he has been is no way to deal with feelings. I know from experience. But you didn’t hear anything from me.” Then he’s gone, walking down the hallway. Your eyes follow him and you see him share a glance with Connor as he goes. Connor feels your gaze on him and turns to look at you.

You give him a small wave, and he just turns away, slamming his locker hard as he leaves for his first class. You sit in your first period, Jared’s words ringing in your ears, and you make a decision then and there. You will try to talk to Connor again today at lunch, and if that doesn’t work then you’ll just have to go back to the drawing board.

As lunch draws nearer, you start to doubt your plan. Nerves setting in, you try to calm yourself as the bell rings. You head to the cafeteria again and this time decide to sit at the table Connor usually uses before he gets there instead of waiting in line for lunch. You keep scanning the cafeteria for him, starting to think that he might not sit here if he sees you.

You’re thankfully proven wrong when he sets his tray on the table while you weren’t paying attention, lost in your thoughts. You take it as a good sign that he decided to sit at his normal spot, but are still unsure about how to start the conversation. You two sneak glances at each other, and are relieved that Connor’s looks are actually pretty gentle, especially compared to the ones you’ve seen in the past few days.

Time continues to pass as you sit in silence. You still haven’t gotten lunch, but the tension holds you hostage, not wanting to screw up again and have to think of some other way of getting Connor’s attention.

Much to your relief and confusion, Jared comes by and sits next to Connor. His eyes immediately snap to Kleinman’s and you swear if looks could kill, Jared would be pushing up daisies. Jared gives him a knowing look, drops a note onto his lunch tray, pats him on the back, then walks away as if nothing happened.

You look at the note in curiosity, but don’t reach for it. Connor glances at you before snatching the note and sticking it in his pocket. He then starts to stand, grabbing his lunch tray and hastily making his way towards the exit. You stand and follow him, knowing that you weren’t the reason for his retreat made you confident that you might actually be able to talk to him. If you were able to catch up with him that is.

Connor was almost jogging through the hallway, which meant that with his long legs you had to practically sprint to catch up with him. He stopped at his locker and grabbed something before going through the school’s back door. Knowing where he was going, you paused at the door to catch your breath.

When you finally make your way back under the bleachers for the third time that week, you sit across from Connor, rather than next to him. He reaches out to you, but you just shake your head gently. He seems to pout slightly, but continues to smoke nonetheless. You sit in silence for a while as he finishes his blunt.

You can see him relax more and more and then he’s insistently reaching for you. You try to resist, but he just seems so open and wanting of some kind of touch that you give in and lean into his side. His arm rests around your shoulders and soon enough your head is on his shoulder and his head is on top of yours, resting gently. As you shift slightly, Connor begins talking and you freeze, not wanting him to clam up again.

He spoke of the shitty summer again, but added that he always tried to keep his phone charged so he could talk to you. Connor had looked forward to your little check ups but didn’t want to worry you with his almost homelessness, so he tried to brush you off. You understood why he had done it, but it made your heart hurt to think about all of the days that you were unknowingly standing by as he was in pain.

You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze when there was a lull in the conversation. He squeezed back and you said, “I promise to be there for you in the future. As long as you promise to be honest with me and tell me when you need me. You know I would have been here in a heartbeat if I had known, summer job be damned.” He nodded his head, and you could feel the movement, giving his hand another squeeze.

Connor also talked about the good times over the summer though, like how he was able to really focus on his art this summer. And how there were these really sweet old ladies who would walk through the park on their way to bingo and compliment him on his sketches and offer to take him home for a meal.

Your eyes were starting to close, lulled by the sound of Connor’s voice and comforted by his arm around you. It was also becoming obvious that he was also starting to drift off by his slurring words. You snuggled further into his chest, head turning to hide itself in his neck. He tightened his grip on you and started mumbling about how caring you were. You fell asleep with his kind words floating through your head.

Awakening with a start at the sound of the bell, you look around in a daze, not seeing Connor anywhere. You frantically looked around but didn’t see any sign of his bag or anything. Then you were running back to the school, desperate to find him. You knew you were going to do something you might regret, but you couldn’t live with Connor only talking to you when he was high.

The hallways are flooded with students who are at their lockers or heading to the parking lot, ready to leave school for the day. You rush around trying to spot him in the crowds, and head outside, hoping he was waiting by his sister’s car. Your peers give you strange looks as you run down the aisles looking for Connor, starting to call his name.

Finally you see him walking down the sidewalk and you really start screaming for him. You know that he heard you since he glances back at you while grabbing his headphones out of his bag. You pick up your pace and run after him, catching up with him halfway through the parking lot.

You are out of breath and double over, a few feet away from him, but he continues to walk, ignoring you. He doesn’t slow down or even acknowledge you as you step next to him. You grab his sleeve and he turns to you with a scornful look, yanking his arm out of your grip. “Connor,” you start, but he just picks up his pace. You try to keep up with him, but he just keeps speeding up. You finally stop and yell, “I love you, dumbass!” At that he gives a pause, still turned away from you.

“I don’t care about all the shit you’re going through, I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you’re always running away from me. That’s not going to stop me from trying though, because I’ll always chase after you Murphy, because I care about you.”

It seems as if time is frozen around you. Your heart pounds as you realize that everyone is staring at you, and that Connor still hasn’t turned around. Trying to breathe properly and wondering how you could be so stupid to bear your heart in front of half the school, you don’t notice that Connor has turned around until he’s standing right in front of you, looking at the ground sheepishly.

He quietly takes your hand and pulls you along with him, ignoring the students who gape at you as you pass by. You walk in silence off of the school grounds and down the sidewalk. You don’t know where you’re going, but you let him lead you there. Soon enough you find yourself at the local park.

You take a seat at one of the benches and Connor pulls you into his side by tugging at your hand, still in his. You comply and are resting your head on his shoulder just like you were earlier. Connor takes a deep breath, like he’s about to say something, but then lets it out as a long sigh. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you understand that this is hard for him.

“I really do love you, you know?” you ask him quietly. He doesn’t say anything, but squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry for not being there for you this summer, but--”

“I’m not mad about the summer,” he cuts you off. “I just…” he trails off, unsure how to say what he wanted to. Connor takes another deep breath and continues, “This summer made me realize that I don’t know what I would do without you. I was dependent on your smile and your stupid jokes, and it scared me. But I also scared myself with how much angrier I was when you weren’t around.”

He swallows, trying to piece together what to say next. “You ground me. And I didn’t want to burden you with the fucked up thing that is me. So I thought that if I pushed you away everything would go away, but it only got worse because I saw you everyday and wanted nothing more than to hug you tight and not let you go.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I would definitely be okay with that,” you look up at him with a small smile on his face. You see his lips quirk up, and he shakes his head at you slightly. You squeeze his hand again and he looks back at you. “I mean what I said though. I will be there for you no matter what. Even if you try to push me away, I’m going to be there. Because you’re my rock too, Connor.”

You two sit on the bench actually talking for the rest of the afternoon. School goes back to normal, and you can see Jared give you two a knowing look in the cafeteria the next day. Connor flips him off and you just chuckle, reaching for his hand. Things will be okay if you just stick together. Grounding each other.

~~~

At the end of the day, it dawns on you to ask, “Hey, Connor?”

“Hmm?”

“What did that note that Jared gave you say?”

“It didn’t say anything really, it was just an accurate drawing of what Kleinman thinks of me.”

“And that is…?”

He takes the note out of his pocket and hands it to you. You unfold it to find a fairly accurate picture of a donkey with several large arrows pointing to the animal’s rear end. “Ah,” you say, as if it were obvious.

Connor chuckles and gives you a kiss on the temple, taking the note back from you. “I guess we should thank him though, since he kind of helped us get our shit together.”

“Yeah, but annoying him is so much more fun.” You two share a look and laugh, glad to be comfortable with each other again, but at the same time closer than ever.

[mcwriting]

A Day Without Coffee

     Ayyyyyy guess who’s back again!! So I decided to wait on the pt 2 on A Flight to Remember and write the other story I mentioned in the a/n in AFTR. So, once again, Tom Holland x Reader bc I’m extra. Also this is literally the longest, most paragraph-y thing I’ve ever written soooo… Btw written in a sort of first person and slang text so if certain things don’t sound descriptive enough it’s because I’m trying to mimic regular-type speaking.

Fandom: (As always) Marvel bc Spider-man

Ship: Tom Holland (Sleepy!Tom) x Reader

Setting: Atlanta/An interview room

Word Count: 1,848 (wow that’s a lot my bad)

Warnings: Probably none other than one “cuss” word and Tom acting like an idiot lol; also this isn’t really a warning but it’s a little wordy (hopefully y'all are into that)

Rating: K+ (Maybe? I never know how to rate these lol. Rlly only bc I say the one word at the end)

Background: Reader was cast in the Spider-man Hoco sequel and recalls a story about when Tom made a fool of himself in front of you while in an interview. Reader began dating Tom at the end of shooting the movie.

---

     Aside from the blinding lights, fake enthusiasm, and repetitive questions, you quite liked the whole “interview process.” Since you were new to the Hollywood scene, no one really knew much about you, so fans and interviewers were continually learning new facts and interesting tidbits about you that most people didn’t know.

You were on your seemingly billionth interview for the upcoming Spider-man sequel you had surprisingly been cast in.

You had gone into the audition as a fan, thinking you were only there for the experience. You never knew that only a month later you’d be on set in Atlanta, Georgia, surrounded by well known celebrities (and all around hottie, Tom Holland) while living out your dream.

“So, y/n,” the interviewer’s words cut you back into reality.

“Do you have any crazy or funny stories from filming that you can share with us?”

You laughed and thought about the question for a moment.

“Are you asking about before or after Tom and I started dating, because that’s definitely a factor…”

You gave a fake chuckle and smile. 

When you and Tom met, there was an instant friendship, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Though you had good off-screen chemistry with everyone on set, yours and Tom’s was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had walked in with the biggest crush on him, or just that fact that the two of you could play off each other and bounce off of one another’s jokes. Even Harrison joked occasionally about his jealousy towards your playful friendship. 

It really was no surprise to anyone, aside from you, perhaps, that Tom asked you out during the last week of filming. In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming, from his stolen glances during the three-and-something months of shooting to the way Harrison and Jacob (who both knew of Tom’s intentions prior to you being asked out) prodded at Tom in the week leading up to that special day.

“Well I feel like all we hear about anymore is the post-dating gossip. So how about something from before you two got together, huh?” the woman’s inquiry once again snapped you from your thoughts.

“Haha well there was this one time. We were about a month or so into shooting and, as some may already know, I carpooled with Tom and Harrison to work since I was staying so close to their rental house…”

Since the first week of filming, you had been driving from your place to theirs, where you ate breakfast with the two every morning at six-or earlier if one of you needed extra time in hair/makeup/wardrobe that day-before getting into the (incredibly nice) car Tom was leasing and making your way to the studio. 

Tom didn’t quite trust you to drive.

“Y/n, I’m the older, and obviously more experienced, driver. It’s fine”

“Tom, you aren’t even from America. You literally drive on the wrong side of the road most of the time.”

“Well I’ve had to drive in this city every time I’ve been here. If I’m not more experienced in America, I’m at least more experienced in Atlanta.”

That’s where the argument had ended, because he did have a point.

Plus, his place was closer to the studio and big city traffic was never your favorite. 

“… and one day I got a call from Tom at like, I don’t know, four thirty? And he goes ‘Oh my God, y/n, I’m so sorry but I completely forgot that I’m supposed to be in early today for a certain scene we’re doing today. I would’ve just gone alone and left Harrison to go with you but he’s still sick and the cold medicine you got him has left him with a bit of a hangover.’ So I get up and let him know I’m on my way, right?

“So it’s so early that I literally just forgo changing or anything like that because I’m in a rush and need to get to Tom’s place. I literally got in my car wearing this super old, way too big t-shirt and and then a pair of sweats I’d been sleeping in the past couple of days and just drove away. I totally forgot shoes and went in my socks.”

The interviewer interjects a “No way!” before you continue.

“I know right! So anyways, I rush over there, totally ignoring speed limit signs to get there, pull in the driveway, and just burst through the door from the garage into the house. Thankfully I had left a pair of slides at the house that I could just slip on before grabbing Tom. Harrison had come down with some flu or awful cold the day before and there was no way he could come with us, not that I’d let him of course. I mean, it was the works: he was coughing, could barely breathe, hardly able to function. 

“Unfortunately that also meant that we didn’t have anyone to make breakfast, because I think anyone that follows Haz knows he’s a bit of a cook. Most days I’d come and he would have cooked bacon, gotten he and Tom eggs, and me a muffin, since that’s literally what I live on. While the two of them would sit down with a cup of coffee, I always drank a cup of, I know, I know, iced tea. I mean, to them it’s like, a cardinal sin, but I can’t get enough of the stuff.

“But anywho, I grab my shoes and toss Tom the keys while grabbing a couple of granola bars. Here’s where you see the mistake: Tom didn’t get to drink his coffee. Now, usually, this wouldn’t be a problem, I mean, there’s always coffee on set. Except for today.”

“Oh no!” the interviewer exclaims, trying to keep the story lively.

“We get to set and it turns out that the coffee maker, like, blew out or something and we were so close to being late that Tom was immediately sent to wardrobe and stuff, and of course the only way he can drink while he’s in the suit is by shoving a little tube in a hole they cut in the suit and letting him drink. Problem is, he can only have water since they don’t want him to mess up the suit.

“Fast forward to like, ten thirty that night. They never replaced the coffee maker and Tom was allowed to take off the mask once just to scarf down a quick lunch at midday. He was literally so exhausted and kept falling asleep everywhere. Thank God he wasn’t doing major stunts that day, because he probably would have hurt himself or worse. 

“Anyways; ten thirty p.m. and they finally let Tom go, so he gets the suit peeled off of him and stumbles toward the bathroom in his robe, holding his clothes to change into. He was so tired that it took him almost ten minutes just to slip on his usual joggers and white t-shirt. I had to help him tie his tennis shoes! It was wild. 

“I grabbed all of our stuff and Tom tried to reach for the keys and I was like ‘uh what are you doing?’ and he starts going on this whole ‘Well I’m not letting you drive my car’ thing. I mean, I had driven his car before. Of course, it was in a Walmart parking lot just to prove that I could drive it, but still. It counts. So I bring that up and assure him that, ‘yes, Tom, I know where I’m going and how to get there.’

“He finally stops fighting me and crawls into the passenger seat. I turn on the car and before we even left the parking lot he’s dead asleep. I hoped the fifteen minute drive would at least get him enough of a power nap to get himself in the house once we arrived, but I was so wrong. I had to make my way over to his door and basically drag him out of the seat and into the house. Thankfully Harrison was still awake, and visibly much better from that morning. 

“Harrison asked me what was going on as he came up on the other side of Tom to get him to his room and I briefly explained the situation. We get Tom into his room and I pull his things from his pockets and plug in his phone while Harrison tugs off his tennis shoes. Harrison went into the hallway and left me with Tom, who was babbling like an idiot.

“He kept saying things like ‘Y/n, where are we?’ and ‘No I don’t need sleep’ and all, and so I just sort of awkwardly whispered ‘Tom, I think you should get some rest… I’ll see you in the morning… Uh.. Bye?’ 

“I started to walk away and he just grabs me out of no where and pulls me into a hug. It caught me off guard because he was laying down and I was standing, so I just sort of fell over him. He mumbled into my ear ‘Thank you so much, y/n’ and I quietly reply with a ‘Oh no problem. Happy to help’ type thing and he just keeps thanking me and suddenly he starts kissing my face. My cheeks, forehead. It was strange. 

“I immediately stood up and quickly blurted out ‘UhgoodnightTomseeyoutomorrow’ and rushed out the door. Of course Harrison saw the whole thing and was laughing his butt off while I rushed out.”

The interviewer is laughing as well at this point and shaking her head.

“And the thing is, I come back the next morning, six o’clock as always, and Tom’s already on his third cup of coffee for the day. When I brought it up Harrison winked at me and Tom explains that ‘man I was just so tired yesterday I need it’ and then he goes ‘hey thanks for driving me last night, I don’t remember much of what happened after getting in the car. How did I even get to bed?’

“So I look up at Harrison and stumble through a shortened version of me driving his car home, without any problems you know, in the hopes that he’ll let me drive it more, and how Harrison and I carried him to bed. I totally omitted the parts after that and he never mentioned it again. Though he did let me drive the car a lot more after that…”

“Wait, he doesn’t even know about this?” the woman exclaims.

You shake your head with a grin.

“Nope. I guess I’ll have to send this interview to him when it releases! He’s gonna be so pissed. I can’t wait!”

You wave to the camera while chuckling.

“Love you, Tommy… Hope you still love me after this! You’re the best!”

“Well folks, it looks like we just got the inside scoop on y/n y/l/n and Tom Holland’s pre-dating relationship!” the interviewer began.

“And I’d say that if we learned anything today, it’s that Spider-man himself can’t live a day without coffee.”

---

A/N: Well that was a trainwreck and way too long. I promise Pt. 2 of A Flight to Remember will be much better than this and will hopefully be out by tomorrow. Hope you like reading this as much as I enjoyed putting this together in my head 😂

[manicalicorn-art]

2017 Writing Round-Up

source: https://trey.dreamwidth.org/584.html

Total year-long word count: 16,200

Word count by fandom: 

BnHA: 12858

Assassin’s Creed: 2562

Original: 780

Fics completed: 3 oneshots

Works-in-progress: 2

This year I wrote and posted:

He Woke to Fire chapter 2

Rocket

What Goes Around chapters 1 thru 4

Wind

Slut Shaming

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

Way, way more. I only started on He Woke To Fire last year, expecting it to be a short two-shot. Now not only has it evolved into a 4+ chapter fic, I also got into BnHA and have been inundated with new fic ideas and have actually, for the first time in my life, started organising and planning my fics in earnest. I only expected to write one (1) short little chapter for HWtF this year, and like. Look at that.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Fandom: BnHA!! I actually got into it because I saw an artist that I followed from another fandom drawing tododeku fanart and I was like ???? I’ve seen the split-hair guy around what show is this? and that was the first actual post that I saw having the title of the anime on it. I didn’t expect to fall as in love with it as I did, because I’ve been getting tired of shounen tropes, but BnHA has some really fresh takes on ideas and is quite self-aware/genre-savvy/trope-subverting on many fronts so I enjoyed it immensely.

Pairing: TodoBaku. I haven’t actually posted any todobakus, but I have been writing quite a few snippets here and there.    As mentioned above I got into BnHA fully prepared to ship tododeku.    Bakugou was introduced and I was like “Hah rival character I’m sure there’s BakuDekus out there” and I was right, and I did like it, because I like rivalships, so that was expected.    Then while browsing BakuDekus I found KiriBakus and read a few and I was like “cute but why” so I went on watching the anime and reading the manga expecting to start shipping the KiriBakus any day now but I was,,,, still not shipping both tododeku and kiribaku.    On the other hand, the Sports Fest happened and I had a sudden ‘oh hey imagine todobaku lol’ and then immediately after went ‘!!!oh hEY IMAGINE TODOBAKU!!!’ and here we are lmao.

I wrote fluff. I’m not kidding, this was the weirdest direction I’ve ever taken my writing. I’ve been a consummate angst slut ever since I fuckin knew how to read, and while I do read the Simple Fluff stories every now and again, they’ve never been things that truly made me happy as a reader. So the fact that I’m writing what’s basically a pure-hearted friendship fic is... mind-boggling to me, both as a reader and a writer.

What's your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

   Oh... this one’s hard, but I guess He Woke to Fire wins that spot. For one, it’s angst, and I’m an angst whore.    For another, it’s a canon-divergence centred around the death of the main character before the story even began, which has seriously been fascinating (and it also gave me a long existential crisis at one point) to contemplate.    Further, the substitute main character is a canon character who got like, two speaking lines and half a minute of screentime before dying unceremoniously, so it’s really given me a real mental workout trying to flesh out his character.    Lastly, there’s a lot of psychological, ideological, and philosophical themes in original canon that by necessity needed to be addressed and recontextualised in order to suit this new AU, and I think I handled it fairly well so I’m really proud of that!

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing fluff. As mentioned, I have literally never touched fluff ever in my (admittedly sparse) writing history. It has posed an interesting challenge in the form of needing to really think about ways to throw complications in the plot and resolving them without emotionally or physically traumatising the characters in any significant measure.

Character voice switching and a large cast. Really getting into multiple characters’ heads, understanding their personalities, strengths and weaknesses, asking myself ‘why is this character taking up this narrative role and not this other one?’ and trying to overcome biases for my faves. It’s not really an epic, and the background characters remain in the background even if they do do things, but I think I’ve gotten a little better at a more holistic approach to writing multiple characters.

Your best story of this year: hhHHHH He Woke to Fire. Makes me so happy.

Your most popular story of this year: (Based on AO3 stat numbers) that would be What Goes Around with 271 Kudos, 33 comment threads, 54 bookmarks, 112 subscriptions, and 2053 hits. I am... speechless. Thank you all so much.

Story of yours most under-appreciated by the universe, in your opinion:

Rocket. C’mon guys. Why have the parallels between Uraraka’s anti-gravity powers and Bakugou’s blasting powers and outer space travel never been talked about? Bakugou’s a literal human rocketship; why would he ever be afraid of Uraraka’s Quirk????

Most fun story to write:

... I had to resist the urge to simply answer this with ‘writing is not fun’ because I get writer’s block really really quickly. I second-guess every plot point as soon as I put it down and I struggle through every line. I write because I want need these stories to exist, not because I enjoy the process of writing. BUT I won’t be a cop-out so I’ll make an actual selection here: Rocket, because fight scenes are fun to imagine. Even if the point of this fight scene was that it wasn’t much of a fight.

Story with the single sexiest moment: The legend of Altaïr’s soul and the djinn beneath the waves in He Woke to Fire. I don’t care if ‘sexiest’ here was meant to refer to literal sexual themes I’m just taking it as ‘moment that made me the happiest’. The invention of this single legend allowed me to talk about a lot of aspects of Altaïr (his immense combat prowess, his cold personality, his fear of water, his death by suffocation) in metaphorical and mythical ways throughout the story and I’m very happy I came up with it by myself.

Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: Thing is, I am well aware of how fucking messed up my imagination can get, so there’s literally nothing I can come up with that would surprise me or anyone who knows me. He Woke to Fire is the most thematically heavy and graphic one I have published I guess.

Story that shifted your own perceptions of the characters: HWtF again.    Like I said, it actually gave me an existential crisis that lasted practically a whole year because I realised halfway through that I was writing the story as though Kadar was just a cuter Altaïr, which he is obviously not.    So I had to go back and replan the entire fic again which then made me introduce Maria as a major character, then I had another crisis because I actually hate the way Maria has been portrayed and treated in canon (and a lot of fanon too for that matter). So I had to really sit down and think about a way to reinvent her in a satisfactory manner for this fic.    I’m still not entirely sure that I’ve got it, for either of them, but goddamn have I had to try.

Hardest story to write: HWtF, see above.

Biggest disappointment: The third chapter of What Goes Around. The writing there feels so stilted and forced, and a lot of the rhythm/word flows/pacing is very repetitive. Despite knowing exactly what I wanted to have happen, I struggled through the entire chapter and it shows.

Biggest surprise: Second chapter of WGA, that I wrote in the same sitting as the first chapter, that I wrote in the same sitting as the second chapter of HWtF. It was the easiest time of writing that I have ever had in my life ever and I didn’t even have to think - except for like, once, when I forgot to mention a detail I thought I had already written but I hadn’t actually so I had to backtrack a couple lines. And usually when I write that fast and fluidly, I’ll come back and read it later and find holes and logic errors and sections of senselessness but nope. It’s completely coherent. I have never written like that before or since.

Most unintentionally telling story: Probably What Goes Around.    I generally try to mention every single student of 1A at least once, and Todoroki’s part in the story was supposed to be limited to that single incident with Tsuyu and then he was done. But he’s kept popping back in in subsequent chapters like a creepy stalker because my ridiculous TodoBaku-shipping heart just wants them to interact more goddamnit.    Now I’ve just accepted that in the WGA canon, Todoroki has a crush on Bakugou and is actually following him around like a lovesick puppy and Bakugou just hasn’t really noticed.

Favorite opening line(s): From Wind: A wind. There’s a wind that blows across the land, a soft sigh on the bright sand.

Favorite closing line(s): From He Woke to Fire: “You’re not real,” Malik says with heartbreak in his voice. “I’m not,” the vision of Altaïr says with Altaïr’s voice, sounding surprised Malik could tell. Then with eyes glowing gold, reaches out a hand to caress Malik’s face, “but you could be happy here with me.” Tears slip down Malik’s cheek as he leans forward to catch ‘Altaïr’s lips in a kiss. “I couldn’t,” he says, voice breaking, arms wrapped bone-crushingly tight around ‘Altaïr’, “but by Allah I wish I could.”

Favorite 5 line(s) from anywhere: From What Goes Around: Katsuki took his food seriously. His old man had what his mum called the ‘art student diet’ where he, if left to his own devices, would just eat four boxes of chicken nuggets at three AM in the morning and completely forgo lunch and dinner, and it pissed her off to no end. So she had Katsuki trained to cook as well as she could (if not better) so that he could force his dumbass dad to eat a decent meal every once in a while whenever she had to go out for a shoot. Sixteen years of life and nearly ten whole years of (violent) culinary training later, Katsuki figured he knew his way around food. Whatever this… stuff was? Not food. He had to close the fridge door and spend a few minutes just breathing because no. Just. Holy shit, no.

This one’s my favourite because it’s me calling myself (and several other people I know *cough*) out for our garbage ‘art student diet’ while also talking about the BakuParents.

Top 5 scenes from anywhere you would choose to have illustrated:

He Woke to Fire:  Altaïr gasping and dying in the sealed cavern, desperately trying to claw his way out till his fingernails are bloody, then scratched off, the dying firelight and the scattered corpses around him.

He Woke to Fire: Kadar clinging gracelessly like a worm to a rafter, looking over at Altaïr in the high narrow room, and seeing birds in cages.

He Woke to Fire: A badass Kadar with hardened eyes, wielding the eagle-pommel sword - Altaïr’s sword.

What Goes Around: Bakugou, so sleepy he can barely keep himself upright, exhausted and rumpled from hard work, giving a jittery Kaminari a one-armed hug until he calms down and feels comfortable in his own skin again.

Rocket: I would love to see this entire ‘fight’ animated but in particular, the part where Bakugou is just grumpily drifting along in the air waiting to be declared the winner.

Fic-writing goals for next year:

Finish HWtF and WGA. They’re my first proper multi-chapters and I do actually kind of know how they’re supposed to end as well as sort of how to get there, so I really want to see them through (as well as not being a dick and leaving my readers hanging)

bktd week. I actually have all the lore and outlines ready, and the outlines have (almost) all the dialogue already written. So hopefully I can actually see it through, and on time for the week.

Start working through my Endless Prompt List which is mostly self-prompts. I’ve taken screenshots of my yelling in great detail about many many ideas and filed them neatly away in the hopes that I actually get around to writing them. My final year in university starts in the second half of 2018, and I’ll be busy with my graduation projection and other important school work, and preparing my animation portfolios and showreels for future employment, and I’ll hopefully be able to get an internship which will be really taxing... So I don’t have very high hopes in terms of my writing for the next two years. Writing’s only a hobby that’s just simply neither important nor urgent in the grand scheme of my life so it’ll have to take a backseat.

[aceofaces20]

What would be a valid thing to submit as evidence for adhd? I feel like my teachers never noticed anything, all it ever says on my report is 'quiet', and im in the uk and you need school reports for diagnosis, and i feel like i wont be taken seriously cos they dont say 'bouncing off the walls' or something

I feel you, nonny. I wasn’t diagnosed until college because I was just “quiet.”

Odds are, if a lot of the symptoms add up enough to make you SUSPECT you have ADHD, you probably have it. But more research is always good!

So like many things, ADHD is a spectrum. The two ends of it are Inattentive to Hyperactive- and then you have people like me, in the middle, with the Combined version. Some people have more Inattentive than Hyperactive, some have more Hyperactive than Inattentive. Everyone who has ADHD experiences the symptoms a little differently.

You can find about six thousand symptoms lists online, but here I’ll tell you things that usually don’t end up on those lists that my therapist told me a lot of her patients ended up experiencing aside from listed symptoms.

(Note: Initially I tried to keep these short. Yeah, that didn’t work. I bolded the important parts.)

1. Insomnia, or at least a super screwy sleep schedule. No joke, this can be super detrimental and will only serve to exacerbate your symptoms. “Just set a sleep schedule!! You’ll feel better!” they all say- Thanks Barbara if I had any control over when my brain chooses to sleep at all I wouldn’t have this issue, ok?

-a solution to this is to, in all actuality, condition yourself. Start ONLY using your bed for sleep. Get a little chair or something in your room if you’re also a hermit like I was growing up (mushroom chairs are gr9) and once you get out of bed, don’t let yourself get back on it for more than a few minutes unless you’re going to sleep.

Some nights it’s not enough, but in general for me personally this has been an actual lifesaver- I can go from being not tired to exhausted at the drop of a hat in normal life anyway (another symptom they don’t usually tell you about) so it’s nice to be able to make it work for me for once- I get into bed, maybe spend 30 minutes restless and then I’m out.

2. On the subject of sleep. You kids ever heard of the sleep of the dead? Because guess what, I have ignored literal fire alarms in dorms because of it. About 1-2 hours into my sleep I enter a state akin to a bear hibernating. I have slept through wake-up alarms, slept through emergency alerts, slept through FIRE alarms, slept though friends and family attempting to wake me… you get the picture.

3. On the note of the hibernating bear. You constantly wake up angry (or at least disgruntled) at the universe and take a really, really long time to power on. No, I’m not talking “a case of the mornings.” I’m talking it takes me until noon some days to actually feel somewhat alert. I’m talking feeling nothing but seething rage at anyone who tries to engage you in higher brain function before you’re fully awake.-the seething rage is more personal to me, but, every single last one of my friends who’s ADHD has issues getting up in the morning. There’s hating mornings, and then there’s hating mornings.

4. About mornings. You’re constantly late to anything in the morning because you just couldn’t “get going.” i.e., you knew and 100% wanted to get up and get moving but your brain said “nah, let’s just sit here on tumblr mobile for a while k?”-it’s very difficult to describe this part of executive dysfunction with words, because it comes off as laziness to a lot of neurotypicals. It’s not laziness. It’s having the motivation and and will and the drive to do something and not forgetting about it and it still doesn’t get done.

“Why didn’t you do x?” they’ll ask. And you just sit there thinking shit, you meant to, really, honest to god meant to, it was on your brain to do and yet all you could actually do that day was sit around and watch terrible TV. And then you feel terrible because YOU think you’re lazy.It’s not laziness. It’s executive dysfunction.

5. Another not so well known EXDYF fact: Mental math or memorization for you will always be the literal bane of your existence. Teachers always told me I was a “smart kid” in school (I am, but not the point) and then they’d wonder why I couldn’t memorize a five line poem.

Or I’d start off with a 60 on a math test, until my teacher would comb through my work by hand (only useful math teacher I ever had in high school tbh) and I’d end up with a 92 because nearly all of my mistakes involved basic arithmetic errors. Even though I was able to use a calculator on the test.

(One time I decided 21-19=14. To this day 8 years later I still do not know from what abyss my brain pulled that info from.)

“You’re smart! Just focus!” I can’t choose what my brain decides to focus on that easily, Sharon, not without a lot of crying and panicking.

6. But wait! You say. I have really obscure information from a fandom that I can infodump on someone at a moment’s notice! Surely that means I’m just Lazy and Unmotivated, right? I guess I just can’t be bothered to memorize the important stuff.

*Loud buzzer noise* Stop right there. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

I will take you by the shoulders and look deep into your eyes and make you realize that guess what? If you have an ADHD brain, you have NO control over telling your brain what is important and what is not. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Your brain decides, and you usually get no say in the matter.

This sounds bad, I know. And in terms of school, birthdays, appointments, it’s terrible. But you’re not helpless. It sounds trite, but, get a good goddamn calendar app on your phone and use the hell out of it for appointments and birthdays. And for school? Find those fandoms and use mnemonics. No, seriously.

7. Also on school: You procrastinate the hell out of everything. And I’m not talking normal “haha I’ll do it later!” procrastination. I’m talking serious, problematic, REPEATED “why the fuck can’t I just do it on time like a normal person” procrastination where you start blaming yourself for not doing it sooner like a neurotypical.

Listen, buddy ol’ pal (or however that goes), you’re not neurotypical. But listen- there’s actually a medical reason why you do this.

So everyone’s brains have reward systems, right? Your brain gives you the feel good when you do something you think you should. And later, a brain remembers that it got the feel good for doing the thingy thing.

In a brain with ADHD, that reward system malfunctions. Sometimes critically. Your brain chucks so much stuff it deems “unnecessary” out the window it chucked out that feel good you got when you turned in that homework on time, or cleaned out your car, or did some pilates for 30 minutes.

8. You want to know what doesn’t help with number 7 there? Another thing that won’t show up on symptom lists but that virtually everyone I know with ADHD (quite a few, actually. Turns out we hang out in packs because we’re usually the only people who can understand each other) about ADHD is how daunting large tasks or projects seem to an ADHDer.

So listen, more medical talk here. Remember that EXDYF thing? Yeah, this is part of that.

EXDYF makes it very, very hard (almost impossible, sometimes) to break down large tasks into smaller, more feasible tasks. You get nervous the longer you put off that paper (“this isn’t something you can spit out overnight!”) You’ve been sitting in front of your computer for hours, and the only word you have written down is “The”.

Honestly, I’m not sure why it’s actually super hard to break down large undertakings into smaller tasks for the ADHD brain. But! Solution.

-if you’re having a problem breaking down ANY sort of task, I promise there’s someone else who’s done it online.

Need to write a paper? Use a template. Need to clean out your car? Find a checklist, or have a friend make you one (cause Lord knows I can’t make one on my own). Need to make a presentation? Find a sample one online. Hell, this even works for taxes. (Gasp!)

Do NOT be afraid to ask for help with even personal large undertakings. If your friends are actually your friends, then they’ll relish the chance. Especially when you can turn around and blaze through a quarter of the important project you two (or however many) have due next week in four hours because of hyperfocus.

9. So, your focus. Totally trash, right? That is, until you hyperfocus.

Hyperfocus, to a neurotypical, probably sounds great. Tune out all distractions and get shit done, right?

Sure, Linda, if you can call being able to ignore things like the need to sleep, eat, and use the bathroom “tuning out distractions.” Time becomes a literal illusion. And damn do you pay for it later by your brain not wanting to do anything at all.

On the flip side, this is why ADHD people make fantastic emergency workers like EMTs and firepeople. If you learn what to do with adrenaline when you start feeling it, you feel like you could punch Satan himself when you’re riding an adrenaline+hyperfocus high. Combine that with the fast-paced, unexpected nature of such jobs and and you have a happy ADHD brain because it’s never bored.

10. Because boredom feels like death. No, Cheryl, I’m not being overdramatic. Yes, Becky, I recognize everyone has to deal with boredom.

A neurotypical’s boredom and an ADHDer’s boredom are two very different levels of boredom. Ever heard the phrase “bored to tears”? Now imagine every time you get even a little bored, it’s like this.

And of course, the ADHD hell brain remembers the bad feels of being bored but can’t recall how nice it was to remember all of the answers on a quiz that one time you paid attention in class.This is why I have the worst problems doing homework and housework, or in general anything with serious repetition (exercise, cooking, driving, tidying up etc.). I can do it for maybe 10-15 minutes, and then my brain’s like “k I’m good. Next source of input please?” like, brain, I’m only like 3 feet into washing the kitchen floor. P l s.

11. Speaking of tears. Has rejection by someone you value ever felt like you wanted to quit existing on the spot, or at the very least wanted to move to an ice cave in Greenland and cry for the rest of your life? Even if the rejection was just perceived rejection and your friend was just expressing grumpiness at something else?

Even if your logic says “they didn’t reject you calm down you’re overreacting?”

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. It’s a newer term, but honestly, once I found out about my own ADHD and this bitch of a symptom a loooooooot of my weird habits started making a lot of sense in my head.

It doesn’t have to be actual “rejection”. It can get set off from stuff like awkwardness (hence my personal resistance to making Adult Phone Calls) to disbelief (a huge, huge reason so many people go undiagnosed), to personal judgment and/or criticisms (oh, ok… I guess I’ll never mention my love for X ever again) to even just indifference (no one noticed I mopped all the floors in the house… guess I’ll just go die!).

Basically, if you perceive that someone you care about has dismissed you in some fashion, you literally just want to quit existing. On the spot. Because the feeling of it makes you feel sick, your chest gets tight, you can feel it in your hands, and it makes the rest of your day miserable.This variant is more likely with people you care about, but can definitely 100% happen with strangers too.

Another variant is this: if you perceive that someone (whether you care about them or not) has dismissed you in some fashion, your first instinct is to attempt to disregard and discard them completely. It usually doesn’t work like you want it to.

I’m pretty sure this is another reason why ADHD people hang out in packs. We always have a line in our head we’re terrified to cross with our friends. It makes us seem like we’re emotionally unavailable- but in reality we’re just terrified of being dismissed by our friends for showing our true geeky, infodumping, hyperfixating selves.

(Listen. If a friend mocks you for your true self they weren’t your friend in the first place.)

12. But in terms of crossing that line… Social cues? What are social cues?

Normal people can infer a lot from body language. With a lot of ADHD people, we tend not to notice. Or we notice too much and overanalyze. There’s no in between.

On a side note, your best bet for flirting successfully with an ADHDer is to just come out and say it. (Talk like an elcor. “Flirtatiously: I want to hear more.” or whatever innocent phrase it is you’re using to flirt. If they’re into Mass Effect, this will make them laugh, which means bonus points for you in their eyes.)But seriously, unless you’re making obviously romantic overtures we’re usually pretty sure you’re just being nice.

Back on topic: lack of social ability is a massive, massive reason people with ADHD are usually bullied growing up. If there aren’t any other ADHD people around, it usually feels like no one “gets” you. I was bullied horribly enough during junior high and high school to the point where I still have to repress the urge to automatically assume someone being nice to me means they’re plotting something behind my back. (Didn’t help that my hs was basically the Korriban Sith academy without most of the death. Culty, religious, nepotism ran rampant.)

13. Woe betide thee who angers the ADHD. It's not a problem with everyone, but... We’re like volcanoes. Awe-inspiring to watch in action, but God help you if we explode in your direction. And if it’s righteous anger there is almost literally no stopping us.

Anger has its uses. Our problem is that, like a volcano, we always have a lot simmering under the surface. We tend to hold onto it for ridiculous amounts of time until one day, boom. Yeah, I know, Kathy, that happens with everyone. Delayed gratification and all. The difference with ADHDers is that we usually don’t wait.

ADHDers’ anger will come out initially, because we can’t suppress it. We’re impulsive as fuck. We don’t think before we leap (our brains probably wouldn’t let us anyway). And it will seem like we are flying off the handle for no reason whatsoever. But we also have a tendency to unhealthily hold onto it afterwards even once the initial burst has happened. It’s like a (bad!) positive feedback loop.

14. Gotta bounce the leg. Gotta rock. Gotta fidget. Shit, I’m sorry, were you talking?

So one time I made it through 40 minutes of a math class actively suppressing the urge to bounce my leg… and then my leg twitched of its own accord. Freaky as shit, 0/10 recommend.

Sitting still is physically impossible for me, and for a lot of ADHDers. Lack of impulse control + lack of social cue knowledge + lack of ability to decide what’s important to our brains = Fidget fidget. Fidget fidget. Twitch. Fiddle with paper. Hey, my backpack has a fun texture by the zipper. Oh my God, that lady on the TV is wearing the best shade of blue ever! I wonder where she got it. Shit, I need to go shopping. Wait, why did I need to go shopping again?

“Hey I asked you what you got for number 7.”

Fuck.

15. Depressive episodes. For me, these usually happen after a major hyperfocus where I taxed my brain for all it was worth, especially for long periods of time.

If it lasts for a long time or starts seriously affecting your life, get it checked out. If your doctor gives a damn they’ll be happy you came in to get it checked, even if it was the wrong diagnosis, because if it had been then at least they were there to help you. And they’ll always be happy to sit down and figure out what’s wrong. I know they have to watch out for hypochondriacs and whatnot. But if a doctor really cares about helping people they’ll listen when you say something’s wrong, because they know that you’re the one in your skin, not them. Which means if you really think something might be wrong, something probably is.

More evidence: justexecutivedysfunctionthings here on tumblr. Contains people’s experiences with EXDYF, which is a huge red flag for ADHD.

The Wikipedia article on the subject. There’s a nicely organized chart. (Or at least there was when I looked at it.) Remember, you don’t have to identify with all of the symptoms to be ADHD. Even if you only identify with a few, if they’re significant enough that they are seriously impacting your life and existence, it’s worth getting checked out.

I may add more to this later/change some stuff as my memory allows.

[hitsugikuro-blog]

tagged~

From @thedarkestcrow , thank you for tagging me!

1. How has your opinion of yourself changed over the years?

I’m definitely more confident and easygoing than I was as a teenager/young adult.  I was an only child and had a period of severe self-esteem issues brought on by bullying that took me a long time to overcome.  But I got help, worked through my issues and am now relatively healthy!  Or as healthy as a huge geek can be I guess.  xD

2. If you had to pick one book to read for the rest of your life, which book would you pick?

JUST ONE??? What kind of sadistic question is this?  

If it isn’t cheating, I’d opt for The Lord of the Rings trilogy because I’ll probably never get tired of reading them.  If not... whatever.  NEXT QUESTION?

3. What’s your favorite season? Do you have a particular reason for liking it?

I love Fall/Autumn because of the warm colors and the relief that comes from summer turning to cooler weather.  There’s just something about the season that’s magical and makes me want to drink cocoa and cider and go for long walks.  Plus it has Halloween, which is the best holiday. :)

4. What’s your favorite thing to do when you want to relax?

Put on a calm playlist and play a game.  I’m a big fan of collection or repetition games where I don’t have to engage my brain too much but I still feel like I’m doing something.  I’ve never been the type of person who can just like... draw a bath and soak for a while.  I get bored too easily and then I’m not relaxed anymore.  ^^;

5. Do you consider yourself lazy?

Eeeeh, it depends on the day?  I’m pretty self-motivated but sometimes I just say screw it and let things slide until I decide to pick them up again.  There’ve definitely been days where I’ve skipped doing laundry or cooked for myself when I really should have.  And I’ve procrastinated on projects and papers before.  But it’s not something I chronically do.

6. What’s your view on morality?

Everyone’s morality is different but there are some universal truths to it.  My personal view is that everything is fine as long as it isn’t actively causing trauma to yourself or someone else, whether it’s physical, mental or emotional.  This might seem like a very relaxed stance on morality but eh, I think people jumping down one another’s throats and arguing over minor details that really don’t matter in the long run is more harmful than not.  You might disagree with someone and judge them for it, but you probably do things they judge you for too so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

7. When are you most productive?


Afternoons, evenings and nights.  I’m not a morning person and it takes me about two hours and a couple cups of coffee or tea to wake me up every day lol.

8. Do you have any strong opinions about things most people don’t think much about?

Just fandom things, probably?  Everyone’s entitled to their own opinions though, so idk if I’d call mine ‘strong’. 

9. How do you handle stress?

Usually by throwing myself into something that will distract me from the stress, whether it’s music or a good book or a good meditation session or whatever I’m feeling like.  If none of that’s available I do my best to remove myself from whatever’s causing the stress and allow myself to come down from it.  I don’t get extremely stressed very often though, luckily enough.

10. What would your ideal world be like?

I’m gonna have to go with the typical response of a kinder, gentler world than we live in now.  If everyone had more compassion for one another and squabbled less over petty differences it would be so much better.  Also just less greed and power lust in general.  People could still have their differences and their unique identities, but I dunno... I just feel like if more people realized that they could be happier by not being quite so selfish, it would do a lot of good.

Extra Questions:

1.) What’s one story that you want to write/create but won’t (or haven’t yet)?

I’ve started writing like 10 different books before but never got that far with them.  I’m better at coming up with ideas and bouncing them off of other people than sitting down and writing out an entire work from scratch.

2.) What’s an interesting moment of self-discovery in your life?

When I realized that happiness is attainable when you’re doing something positive with your life, even if it’s something small.  Greatness and renown aren't as important as touching the lives of the people around you; friends, family and strangers alike.  

3.) Dream job? 


Forensic Anthropologist, hands down.   I majored in physical anthropology and took a heavy load of science courses and I loved it.  One of my professors was really into criminology as well and gave us really interesting lab work related to forensics.  Plus, it’s usually benefitting the families of missing persons.  If I ever go back to Uni for a Masters degree I think that’s what I’m going to aim for.

4.) What’s a book/movie/show that has had a large influence on you?

Oh man, I dunno if I can just pick one.  This probably won’t come as a surprise after that last question but I was an avid reader of Sherlock Holmes and other detective novels as a kid.   My parents and grandparents let me read anything as long as it was classic literature, so I read all of the Sherlock stories when I was 8 - 10.  As far as movies go, I also loved the Indiana Jones series and it got me really into studying history and different cultures.  And I guess anime and manga, in general, has influenced me a lot and helped cement that desire to travel and learn another language.  

5.) Has music ever changed your life, or at least your outlook on life?

Yes, definitely!  Some songs have always stuck with me and I still find songs with lyrics that impact me in some way.  Music is a powerful way to convey messages (haha, Blue Sect Arc got it 100% right) and invoke emotion in people. 

6.) Imagine you’ve become an established author/artist/creator. What would you want the fandom for your works to be like?

I would want them to be chill and nonargumentative with one another, but I know that’s only like a .0001% probability.   Maybe if I had a fandom of like 5 people it’d be okay.

7.) Same scenario as #6. What would the fandom actually be like?

Probably like every other fandom out there.  Mostly casual consumers but a good chunk that’s very invested.  A smaller chunk of those would be the ones that rock the boat and make everyone unhappy.  

8.) What’s a subject that you think should be taught in schools but typically isn’t taught at all?

It might sound odd, but responsible money management and how to save for retirement.  Responsibly managing my money was one of the biggest issues I had to overcome when I went to University and was living on my own, and it was the same for quite a few of my friends.  I think the spending lifestyle in America is mostly to blame for this, and businesses want to make as much money as they can off of the public so I doubt a class like that will ever be implemented.  But it would be nice if we taught kids and teens how to live comfortably without being so materialistic.  I think things are slowly changing on their own though, and the youngest generations are realizing this (see: all the whining about Millenials ‘killing’ everything lol).

9.) What’s a subject that you think should be taught differently in schools from how it usually is?

Difficult to say!  I don’t know how schools in other states handle all of their subjects, but the ones I went to had a few issues.  I think math and algebra are in the one area that’s most often complained about.  In my experience, I either had an excellent teacher or an amazingly awful one with no exceptions.   Which is a shame because algebra can be interesting and fun if the teacher enjoys the subject and has good lesson plans.

10.) Are there any patterns in your interests/works that wouldn’t be immediately obvious to an outside observer?

I really don’t look like the type of person who’d be into the things I’m into, I suppose?  I’m just your average, small person who dresses in T-shirts, jeans, and trainers with earbuds in. ^^;;

And that’s it!  Tagging  @lapyn @beautifulbloomingblossoms @trollintrancy @justanotherfandomjunkie along with anyone else who’d like to answer it.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Norse Myth LOT Fic 2: Victory in Anticipation (Coldwave)

Fic: Victory in Anticipation (Ao3 Link) - Chapter 1/3 Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow, Norse Mythology Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Sequel to Victory in Waiting - read first

Summary: Leonard Snart is dead and his soul has gone to Valhalla, the home of heroes, and that's the end of the story.

Well.

Not quite.

A/N: I highly recommend reading the first fic in this series first.

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Every morning, after he’s awake but before he opens his eyes, he thinks – perhaps today.

Perhaps today he’ll wake up and see a dirty off-white ceiling with a bootprint smack in the middle, like the house on Lennox Street that was always secretly his favorite, or the vast height of a warehouse roof, or even the dull unrelieved slate grey that could stand for either Iron Heights or the Waverider.

Perhaps.

And then he opens his eyes and is blinded by the glint of golden shields, layered over each other like roof-tiles.

Nope.

Looks like it’s just going to be another day in fucking Valhalla.

Len sighs and rolls out of bed.

He does not like his bed, despite its fine carvings, because it was made by people who have a shit understanding of the finer arts of mattress-making – there’s a goddamn midpoint between sleeping on a lumpy set of rocks and drowning in a pile of fluff and fur – but he’s willing to admit that part of it might be his overall disappointment in the fact that he’s still here.

He wanders down to breakfast.

“Well met, Snare,” Ivar says, raising his – you know what, Len is going to call it a cup, despite its very obvious horn shape. He was never into Viking lore; insofar as he ever learned anything about mythology (religion?), it was about his own Judaism, a bit of Christianity (for Lisa, in case she cared – she didn’t), and maybe some Greek mythology because Xena.

He’s aware that that’s not a good basis for dealing mythology anything, but if he’d have realized it was going to be relevant to his life – or death, as it happens – he’d have read up about it first.

“It’s Snart,” Len says, not for the first (or, he suspects, the last) time. “Don’t suppose anyone’s done anything about my request for cheese, have they?”

“As we’ve explained several times,” Haukr, the man sitting next to Ivar – not as broad, but twice as smart – says, rolling his eyes, “the goat Heiðrún’s udders give mead, not milk.”

“Has anyone asked?”

“No.”

“I’m going to do it myself,” Len says.

“When you inevitably get yourself killed, I’ll laugh at you tomorrow,” Haukr says practically.

“Maybe this time I’ll wake up in the right place,” Len says. He doubts it, but a guy can hope, right?

“Snare here is Jewish,” Ivar tells another person, coming over from the sleeping area yawning. “Didn’t even know you could have Jewish einherjar before him.”

“What’s Jewish?” the other man grunts.

“The ones that don’t work on the seventh day,” Len sighs. He’s had this discussion before.

“Oh, them,” the man says. “Liked them. Can’t they not eat pig or something?”

This part of the discussion, too, is repetitive. It doesn’t make it less annoying.

“Not unless it’s necessary,” Len informs him.

“Is Sæhrímnir –”

“No, the giant boar roasting over the fire – though I see it’s gotten itself back off the fire and has pranced back into the forest on its dainty little hooves to let you bloodthirsty assholes hunt it down for today’s dinner again – before being plopped into the cook-pot is definitely not kosher. But since it’s the only thing to eat in this place, it’s fine.”

“Huh,” new guy says, scratching himself. He obviously doesn’t care, and he moves on without another word.

Again, not unsurprising. Len has had this conversation before. Verbatim.

“Is there an eight-letter word in Norse for ‘boring’?” Len asks Haukr. “Because right now I’m feeling it being ‘Valhalla’.”

“You shouldn’t blaspheme,” Ivar says, but by this point he’s gotten pretty used to Len and the admonishment isn’t quite as strong as it had been in the beginning.

“Where’s Leifr, anyway?” Len asks. He and Haukr tend to hang out a lot. “Not like he could go anywhere.”

“Tried to peep at the valkyries again,” Haukr says.

“So, dead?”

“Yeah. Already.”

“Fucking idiot.” It’s not like the valkyries don’t come by every night to serve everybody beer (mead, if you feel like being pedantic); Leifr’s just dumb. Dumber even than Ivar, and that takes some doing.

Haukr grunts in agreement. “You coming out with us?” he asks, jerking his head towards the armory, which is primarily armed with spears and knives and other such things.

Len makes a face. He appreciates a good knife as much as the next guy, but he doesn’t actually like fighting for the sake of fighting. That’s more Mick’s game.

He misses Mick.

Len crushes that thought before it’s even formed, because he doesn’t actually want Mick to be dead anytime soon, even though his presence might be the sole thing that makes this place tolerable. Mick would probably enjoy crushing them all.

“No,” he says instead. “Going to work on my ‘fruit and vegetable’ petition. I’ve never appreciated a salad more.”

Haukr laughs and shakes his head. “You’re as crazy as old Håkon, and he’s Úlfheðinn,” he says, amused.

Len smiles the smile of someone who has no idea what the fuck that means and is increasingly tired of having to ask people to translate for him. He thinks it might mean something like berserker, but with wolves or something.

Haukr doesn’t bother explaining, opting instead to get up from the table and head out to the fighting fields, Ivar close behind him.

Len waits until they’re gone before slinking out of the main part of the great hall. It’s a big place – possibly infinite – but he’s found a few places which aren’t so crowded that he can relax and think about what to do about his currently untenable situation.

Thinking he was going to die is one thing. Waking up and being informed that you’ve been recruited to fight in the army of your adopted father (what even), who is apparently the big tall scary guy with the one eye sitting on the throne in the middle of the room with the two ravens (what even), and then basically being ditched by said adopted father (at least that’s familiar?) to practice until you’re called upon for service of some unspecified sort - that's a whole different kettle of fish. This is not Len’s idea of a good afterlife, no thank you.

Not least because Len doesn’t actually like being of service to anyone. Ever.

He doesn’t go anywhere near said big tall and scary, who’s preoccupied with other things anyway – other gods come to talk to him, sometimes, usually Tiny Hammer Guy (Thor? Thrum? something?), Mr. One-hand, or Shiny Farm Guy, and sometimes he goes out with them, but either way, Len started his time here in Valhalla by observing, and he may not know much about the god everyone calls the All Father, but he knows everything he needs to about the guy.

Including the wisdom of not even thinking his name.

Len never liked bullies, and that applies to gods, too. The guy rubbed him the wrong way by claiming to be Len’s new father (what even, part forty two) and nothing Len’s heard about since has improved his opinion even a little. Slaughter, war, manipulation, treachery – seems like this guy’s stock in trade makes him well suited to be one of Len’s criminal companions, but not necessarily one that Len would ever work with and certainly never for.

Reminds him a bit of his real father, actually, if Lewis wasn’t a dumb fuck. Luckily for Len’s mood, he-who-shall-not-be-named-but-isn’t-nearly-as-cool-as-Voldemort-yes-even-book-seven-Voldemort is absent today.

There’s a croaking sound as one of the ravens settles down on the table next to Len.

“You are not wrong, who deem/That my days have been a dream,” Len tells him.

“That’s ‘A Dream Within A Dream’,” the raven croaks back, annoyed. “Wrong one, again.”

“Guess I don’t know my Poe,” Len says.

“Just make the goddamn Nevermore joke already and get it out of your system,” it says.

Clearly Muninn. Huginn actually thinks Len is pretty funny, even if he’ll never admit it – at least, he does after Len treated him to a ten minute lecture on the concept of intrusive thoughts after that one time when he’d decided to come visit while Len was taking a bath and perched on the edge of the bathtub.

Len had also accused him of being a pervert, but Huginn had responded by pointedly commenting on Greek mythology, which, fair. Not relevant, since Len’s a Jew, but fair.

“I’m not plagiarizing Neil Gaiman,” Len informs Muninn primly. “You ever read American Gods?”

“I’m a raven.”

“And that’s an excuse for illiteracy?”

“I can read!”

“So you’re just lazy about keeping up with good literature, that it?”

Muninn rolls his eyes – not a thing Len knew ravens could do before he came here – and flies away out the window, presumably to go about his information collecting rounds, the nasty little snitch.

The Big Guy might have a mild inclination to keep an eye – the one he’s got left, anyway – on Len, but Len’s learned the skill of being just the right mix of incredibly well-behaved and incredibly annoying that drives jailors out of their skulls in Iron Heights, and the gods have nothing on them.

(At this point, the ravens showing up isn’t a demonstration of the Chief’s interest so much as it is their own morbid curiosity.)

Len heads towards the currently empty throne area, only to nearly get tackled by a giant husky with bad breath that’s bigger than Len is.

“Geri, damnit,” Len says, trying not to laugh. “Geri. Geri, we’ve talked about this. We do not jump on people to say hello.”

Geri licks Len’s face, entirely undeterred.

“Oh god, no, you eat corpses, Geri! I can smell it! No! Stop! Desist!”

Eventually Len manages to untangle himself, mostly by virtue of spending a good ten minutes scritching Geri behind the ears until the gigantic beast rolls over onto his belly.

Then he spends another ten minutes giving Geri a belly rub, because Len is weak if you walk on four legs and are adorably fluffy. At least, he is if no one's looking.

“Good Geri,” he praises him. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy, yes you are, Geri, good Geri! Such a good doggie. You’re the best doggie, yes you are, my little corpse-eater, you. Oh, ugh, I’m going to have to give you another toothbrushing later, aren’t I?” Len makes a face as Geri’s breath rolls out in a miasma that stinks of eau de dead thing. “Yes, yes, I am, aren’t I? Still, not your fault your master’s a dumbass, yes he is. But it’s not your fault, is it, because you’re a good boy.”

Geri yips happily, tail wagging like a madman. Someone told Len that Geri’s actually a wolf, which is clearly just ridiculous. Sure, he’s big, pony-sized big, but he totally looks like a slightly larger version of a husky Len saw once. Maybe a husky-Newfoundland mix or something. And have you seen the size of the goat on the roof? Now that’s big.

Admittedly, Len’s never actually seen a wolf – Central City was more coyote territory, if anything - but seriously, Geri’s way too cute. His brother Freki, too.

“Where’s your brother, huh?” Len asks, not expecting an answer.

“Afghanistan,” Huginn says, flapping by lazily in Muninn’s wake. Huginn’s the faster of the two ravens, but sometimes, for no reason, he takes a meandering path.

Len can sympathize. His thoughts do that sometimes, too.

Doesn’t mean he has any patience for Huginn’s shit.

“Three words, birdie-boy,” he says. “Cognitive behavioral therapy. I’ll thought the shit right out of you.”

Huginn barks a laugh and wheels out the window as well.

“I’m threatening him with Prozac next time,” Len mutters, getting up off his knees. Geri yips happily and jumps up as well, tail wagging happily. His head easily comes up to Len’s torso, even bowed.

He is a very big doggie.

Len absently puts his hand on Geri’s ears as he walks through the entranceway that the gods usually use. Sure, the other einherjar avoid it like the plague, but no one’s ever actually said that humans weren’t supposed to go through that way.

Also, there are apples.

Len nearly broke down and cried the first time he saw the tree with the golden apples. Sweet, sweet Vitamin C. If he ever sees Mick again, he’s apologizing for all the stupid things he ever said about vegetables being optional and/or best served in ketchup form.

But he’s not going apple-picking today – not least because Ms. Goldilocks Iðunn nearly caught him again last time, and he’s not sure giving her big wide eyes and a quivering lip is going to work yet another time.

(“You don’t understand,” he told her. “I’m craving salad. Salad!”

She covered her mouth. “That’s not an excuse,” she replied, but she’s about three seconds away from cracking.

“I’m dreaming of beets. Beets. And turnips. That’s a fate worse than death.”

She made a slightly strangled sound, struggling to keep her face from smiling.

He decided to switch tracks. “Is it true that they call you Þjazi's booty?” he asks, having heard that story just the day before by the fire.

“Yes, it’s true,” she replied, slightly puzzled.

“Well, now I know I’m doomed,” he sighs dramatically.

“…why do you say so?”

“In the words of my mother’s people, the booty don’t lie.”

Her howls of laugher had followed him all the way out of the orchard, apples safely in hand.)

No, today he’s going to continue his explorations of the other parts of not-Midgard-that’s-Earth-it’s-the-other-one-fuck-Norse-naming-conventions. Aesirgard? Asgard? Whatever. Sure, he could limit himself to Valhalla, but he’s already figured out the pattern of the place: sleeping quarters, eating hall, bathing area, armory, repeat ad nauseum. It’s like someone built the whole place based on the copy-paste function.

At least there’s some variety out here.

Today, he’s going for the big barn-like building. Going by the smell, he’s going to guess that it’s the stables. Luckily, he still has one of Iðunn’s apples left; he figures he’ll be all right.

He doubts there’s anything valuable there – he’s already gotten bored picking leaves off of Glasir, because what’s even the point of stealing golden leaves that no one else wants? – but he believes in being thorough.

Since he apparently has forever.

Or until Ragnarök, anyway. Whatever that is. People don’t like to talk about it for some reason.

Len cracks open the door and slips in, Geri padding along silently behind him.

“Well,” Len says, squinting around as his eyes adjust to the relative dark. “It’s…definitely a stable.”

He walks over to the first pen, then stop and stares.

“Goats,” he says flatly. “More giant goats.”

The goats ignore him, as goats have a tendency to do.

“Do you eat sweaters?” Len asks them. “Mi– my partner, he once said that goats ate everything, but that they liked his sweaters best.”

They don’t answer.

He steps back and studies them at a slight distance. “Any relation to old Heiðrún?” he asks. “You’re a lot smaller than she is, but you’re also, uh, more male.” He pauses and wrinkles his nose. “Oh, man, now I really hope that all that she-goat mead isn’t a milk substitute, because ew. This is why food should come out of prepackaged plastic wrap.”

The goats continue to ignore him.

Len wonders if they have names.

Geri abruptly yips joyfully and darts ahead, into the dark of the stable. Len frowns and trots after him, only to find him happily chasing a circle around a long-suffering looking cat, which is having exactly none of it.

A very, very fluffy, very, very, very large cat.

“Holy cat,” Len says, because – wow. “Look at you. If you ain’t the most gorgeous kitty I’ve ever seen, I don't know what is,” he says sincerely, because the fluff. It’s so – fluffy. It’s massive. It’s a dire version of a Norwegian forest cat, or a Maine Coon, Len’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards Norway because, well, context. But still. The cat is as big as a small bear, and the fluff has got to be a whole another bear just by itself. “You must hate rainstorms.”

“You have no idea,” a voice says from behind him.

Len manages to keep himself from jumping in surprise, and turns.

“Okay, no. No. This is a step too far. Explain this to me - why does Viking heaven have Mr. Ed?” Len asks accusingly.

The horse, giant like the rest of them, well above a normal horse’s size and Len has seen horses before so he knows, brays a laugh. “I like that,” it – he? Okay, yep, definitely a he, this is 100% a stallion and not a gelding and also why does Len do this to himself – says. “Mr. Ed. A talking horse, I assume?”

“Old television program,” Len says resentfully. “No one here even knows what television is.”

“There aren’t really a lot of new einherjar these days,” the horse says, shrugging. Given how huge it is, there’s a lot of shrugging going on there. Whole muscle groups are involved.

“How many hands are you?” Len asks, studying him. “I don’t actually know how big a ‘hand’ is, but I could probably math it backwards.”

The horse brays again. “I don’t think anyone’s ever counted, honestly,” he says when he’s done snickering. “I like you.”

“Thanks, Ed.”

“Ed?”

“Well, you haven’t given me any other name to call you by,” Len points out. “Not like there are any nameplates either.”

“Good point,” the horse says. “But no, I like Ed. Keep going with that.”

“Gee, thanks. And what should I call Goats 1 and 2? They’re one short for the Billy Goats Gruff.”

Ed snickers. “Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr,” he says. “Teeth-barer and teeth-grinder, respectively."

“Really?” Len says. He doesn’t mean to be doubtful, but they’re, well…kind of placid. “That’s like naming your Pekingese ‘Bruiser’. Unless they’ve been turned into a vampire, because in that case, name away. Still pissed they never gave him a name in the movie…”

“I don’t even want to understand what twists your minds just took,” Ed says, but he’s definitely amused. “You know, I haven’t said that about anyone for years; you should be complimented.”

“I successfully piss off Huginn and Munnin on a regular basis,” Len informs Ed. “I am complimented.”

Ed snickers.

“So, does the cat have a name?”

“Cats, plural,” Ed corrects.

Len immediately scans the area for a second giant cat.

“Rafters.”

Len looks up.

“That’s a lot of fluff to balance on one rafter,” he says admirably.

“They don’t have names, I’m afraid,” Ed says. “Freyja just never bothered.”

“Actually, that makes sense,” Len says thoughtfully. “They are cats. Cats are above such petty things as names; they are merely kind enough to sometimes answer to descriptive terms barely worthy of their worship.”

He’s joking, of course, but he swears the cat that Geri is trying (unsuccessfully) to convince to play with him gives him an approving look.

“Right,” Ed says, shaking his mane. “You’re going to give them an ego.”

“They’re cats, they already know they’re superior to us,” Len says dismissively. “I’m going to be stereotypical and call you Rumpleteazer, okay?” he asks the one ignoring Geri. “Likes to create chaos with her partner, Mungojerrie, who can be Mr. Rafters up there.”

She considers this for a long minute and purrs approvingly.

“I think that’s the furthest any man has gotten with Freyja’s cats since I’ve met them,” Ed observes. “Well done. What will be your next trick? Hoop-jumping? Fire-breathing?”

“I like you,” Len tells Ed. “You’re kind of a dick. I appreciate that in people.” He pauses. “And horses, apparently.”

Ed shuffles his legs in mock-embarrassment, which makes Len have to rub his eyes because he would have sworn –

“Yes, there are eight,” Ed says.

“Thought I was seeing double,” Len says gratefully.

“You should probably get back,” Ed says with a sigh. “They’ll eventually notice you’re missing, and time in the Hall works differently from out here. It’ll be almost evening for them.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Len offers. “And here, something to remember me by till then.”

He pulls the apple out of his pocket and offers it to Ed.

Ed stares at it for a long moment.

“What?” Len asks, a little uncomfortable. “I thought horses liked apples.”

“We do,” Ed says. “It’s just – that’s a – you know what, never mind.” He leans forward and lips at the apples, picking it up delicately with his teeth before crunching into it with all sounds of evident delight. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Len says. “Should I bring some Sæhrímnir-meat for the Hammerhead Hannigans tomorrow?”

“…they’d probably like some bones,” Ed allows. “I see that you’re very frustrated by no one getting your references.”

“I’m bunking with people who think similes are the height of humor,” Len says sulkily. “They even like puns! It’s not as much fun if someone’s not groaning.”

“I knew someone once who’d like you very much,” Ed remarks. “Now go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Geri, heel,” Len calls, whistling sharply.

Geri bounds over and Len rewards him with scritches.

“…just so you know, you disturb me greatly,” Ed says.

Len snickers and heads back to the hall, ducking back in just in time for Huginn to fly through the window like a bat out of hell.

Len wonders what the news is, but opts to go help himself to some Sæhrímnir, because it has in fact been a while since he’s eaten. Oh, look, they’re having it ‘boiled in the cook-pot’ style. Again.

“Have you considered alternate forms of preparation?” he asks Andhrímnir.

“Don’t start with that again,” the god-cook replies. “You don’t even know what a fricassee is.”

[lucanogis]

fanfic: tender matters such as life

Title: tender matters such as life Fandom: Gakuen Alice Length: 5.2k Summary: Aoi Hyuuga has what she always wanted: A relationship, an apartment, a good job. Yet somehow, memories of her past can’t seem to let her go. And running into Rei Serio in front of a grocery store only makes matters worse. Set after Ch. 180, written for day 2 of ga-party’s May prompts: childhood trauma. 

{ao3} , {ffn}

She doesn’t remember much, but she knows he is her protector. He promised her that and why shouldn’t she believe his words? He was there when she woke, he is there still. He shows her how to use her hands to grasp her surroundings: The wooden floor that leaves tiny splinters in her skin and the metal bars that keep her inside, no, safe. The small bathroom and the shower, her table and her bed. The air is cool, always cool. No fire reaches her skin, no ash tickles her nose. Everything beyond the room and her protector is blurry. Sometimes she reaches for it but always, always there is a wall. But the wall is good, he says. There is no joy beyond the wall. The outside world, he tells her, will not treat her kindly. Sometimes, solitude is protection. She can hear he speaks the truth, the kind of aching, painful truth one cannot learn, only experience. She believes him. He is her protector, after all, and no fire will burn her, no darkness terrify her, as long as he is by her side.

Aoi Hyuuga spots Persona while she’s out buying milk and cornflakes. The night before was rough, as most nights are, lately. She spent a good three hours fighting with Paige about...honestly, she hardly remembers what they were fighting about. Life is strangely cyclical these days. Hours blur together until they become weeks and one argument over their future bleeds into the next. Maybe that’s why she goes out to buy cornflakes - her girlfriend likes them and watching her wolf down three bowls will restore peace to their tumultuous relationship, until the next day at least.

It’s October and the air outside is freezing already, as though winter is stretching out its fingers to have just a little bit more time to wreak havoc. Aoi shivers and burrows her face into her jacket. She’s crossing the street when she sees him. His hair is dark but shorter than she remembers and he’s putting groceries into a car. She’s heard about the whole thing, of course. It’s not like it hasn’t been years since the Elementary School Principal of the Alice Academy in Japan fell and Rei Serio left the school to pursue a better life. But in all those years he never sought her out. Her brother told her Serio got married, had a baby. Back then, her stomach twisted at the thought.

He sees her, she knows he does, even as she tries to hurry into the store. “Miss Hyuuga,” he says.

His voice makes her breath quicken. It’s the same voice, slightly rough around the edges, the same voice she remembers hearing throughout the years she spent living in darkness. Right now, however, shock tints his words and she doesn’t remember that, doesn’t remember him sounding anything less than perfectly in control. She bites down on her lips, anticipating his next words.

“Please, can I...can we talk?”

Aoi pauses in her steps and answers without turning to face him. “I’d rather not,” she says hurriedly, her tongue stumbling over the words. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

Three more steps and the doors of the store open. She passes shelves, employees, customers before stopping in between two racks of fruit. Her heart is pounding hard enough to escape from her chest and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath. Aoi lets fear push her down and falls to her knees, the granite floor cool under her legs. He’s just a person, she thinks. Just one person.

She thinks about calling her brother, too, but her fingers won’t listen to her so she leans her head back to look at the ceiling. Above her, fluorescent light bulbs gleam and she stares at them until small dots start dancing in front of her eyes, lets their brightness chase away any lingering memories. Breathing, her therapist taught her, is the most important thing. She breathes for a while, even as her body tells her that she is dying dying dying dead. The panic fades eventually. It doesn’t leave but then it never does. Aoi thinks that maybe it’s just a part of her now - like her bones and her blood and her skin, something life has knitted into her body. She can sense it rising and falling as she goes to buy the cornflakes she came for, incessant tiny waves forever crashing against her mind.

Her brother never quite understands why she chooses architecture as her career. “You would make a great teacher,” he tells her once. “Or a doctor. Something like that.” But architecture offers her the opportunity to make things that will outlive her - buildings that will house humans for decades. After a childhood of leaving buildings behind and burning them down, it feels like absolution to construct them now. Whatever she tore down, whatever was taken because of the fire in her veins, she will rebuild. And the homes that rise up now from the ashes of her own mistakes will be five, no ten times stronger than what came before them. Robustness, that’s what it is about. Nothing fanciful, nothing wasteful, something that will last. “Doesn’t sound like fun,” her brother says. He looks at her with serious red eyes so she forces a smile. “It’s what I want to do,” she tells him. “It’s who I want to be.”

Paige is waiting for her when she unlocks the door to their shared apartment. “Where have you been?,” she demands. There’s an edge to her voice. Aoi stretches out her arm to present the bag she’s carrying. “I got you some cornflakes,” she says, keeping her voice light, her lips curved into a smile. “We didn’t have any left so I thought-”

“You should have told me you were going somewhere,” Paige interrupts. “I called you a dozen times, can’t you at least pick up the phone?”

Aoi slips out of her shoes and hangs up her jacket. “I didn’t hear the ringing,” she answers truthfully. “You know I always keep it on mute.”

Paige’s face twists into a grimace of anger. Inwardly, Aoi sighs. “Look,” she says, trying to sound as calm as she can. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, alright?”

“Suit yourself,” Paige hisses. She shakes her head, her reddish curls bouncing up and down as she does, and grabs the bag Aoi’s still holding before stomping off without a word. Aoi can hear her rummaging around in the kitchen and closes her eyes. Breathe, she thinks. Just breathe.

There were days, many months ago, that being with her girlfriend felt less like a chore and more like a blessing. She’d been single for as much as a year at that point, watching from the sidelines as her brother got engaged to his long-time girlfriend. Her own previous relationship had imploded - she’d loved Ahn, but her ex had been so independent that it was difficult to hold onto her in a romantic way. Paige was the complete opposite: Ready to move in with Aoi, ready to settle down. Stability. Until she switched jobs and started coming home tired and irritated, filled with stories about an industry Aoi knows nothing about.

Maybe this is normal, she tells herself as she walks up the stairs to her laptop. The endless repetition, the dullness, the fighting. As much as the arguing exhausts her, at least she knows Paige won’t leave. Aoi can’t exactly say the same about anyone else in her life. Natsume may always manage to come back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he disappears all the time, dropping of the face of the earth to save the world with his friends. He has their mother’s blood, her spirit, Aoi thinks.

She isn’t made for saving the world. She just wants to have her relationship, her home, her job. She’s an architect, mostly responsible for making structural plans for factories and it’s good, honest work. Every time she presents her clients with a plan, their smile makes the geometry and endless planning worth it. Well, almost. Lately not even her job has made her smile. Factories are...robust, redstone and metal, but they’re not places people live in. Still, they’re what her firm specializes in and being self-employed is too high a risk to take.

But when she checks her laptop after getting upstairs, she doesn’t immediately delete a mail her brother forwarded her, about some rich guy looking for a freelance designer to draw up plans for his new home. The guy seems to want a lot, perhaps more than any architect can give him. He is well-known, so any architect who does give him what he wants can expect much needed exposure.  Aoi leans back in her chair. Above her head, the first building plans she ever made are pinned to the ceiling. They are...ambitious, a colossus of sturdy metal and glass. They got her into her desired architecture program, they got her this far. She looks back down to read the email again. “Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge” it says.

“Sounds like anyone but me,” she mutters to herself and pushes her chair back to get up. But as she walks downstairs, the words echo in her mind and her fingers itch for a pen. Maybe, her mind whispers, maybe, maybe. It won’t quiet down, not even as she sits down next to her girlfriend, not even after the two of them watch a sitcom in awkward silence. Maybe, maybe, this is something she can do.

Her father is the one who convinces her to see a therapist. He says her weight loss worries him, almost as much as the way she never quite laughs with her eyes anymore. He doesn’t make her tell him what’s wrong, but he does tell her about her mother, how she was beautiful and strong but sometimes felt so sad and lost that she didn’t care about life or love or her future. The therapist talks to her about the fear monster, which is what she has started to call the lingering memories from her time at the Academy, talks to her about her dreams for her life and her job. It doesn’t fix everything but it helps, the same way turning on the light helps one find scattered items on the floor. At the same time, it makes Aoi’s skin crawl. Why does she need help? Has the school damaged her so badly, has it made her weak? Or, even worse: Was she weak from the start?

“How do you feel about today’s fight,?” her therapist asks her. Aoi shrugs. She’s sitting on the leather couch in her therapist’s office. The sun is shining through the trees outside, throwing leaf-like shadows onto the wall. It’s a peaceful day, far too peaceful to discuss the intricacies of her relationship.

“It was the same as all the other fights,” she says. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Her attempt at a hopeful smile clearly falls short, because her therapist raises her brows.

“That may be true, but do you want to figure it out?”

Aoi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, Aoi?”

“Sure I am,” Aoi says, the answer more a reflex than the truth. “I love my girlfriend, this is just a rough patch.”

Her therapist nods. “I see. It just seems as though every day, she does something that upsets you. Sometimes people just aren’t compatible. It’s not weakness to walk away from someone who isn’t right for you.”

“What we have between us is good,” Aoi insists. She fiddles with her thumb. “Once we’ve put this behind us, we might even get married. Why not, we already have an apartment. You know, my brother was engaged when he was my age.”

“Why is it you want to get married? Why do you want a life with her?”

“Well, I love her. Obviously.”

Her therapist’s questions are starting to make her uncomfortable and Aoi glances at the clock. There’s still ten more minutes before the session is over.

“Look, does it really matter why I want to get married?,” she says impatiently. “It’s the normal thing to do.”

Normal. She stares at her therapist, who is now wearing a quiet, almost expectant smile. Normal. Is that a reason to want to be with someone? Aoi doesn’t know, but it’s certainly better than the void she slipped into during some of the months she spent being single. The darkness then was almost as bad as the darkness in the Academy’s cage, only it whispered even crueller things into her ears and took away all her motivation. She couldn’t even make herself get out of bed in the morning, let alone do her job. Compared to that, compared to the things she has experienced, her daily fights are a walk in the park and marriage, God, marriage seems like heaven.

“Do you think you deserve no better than that?,” her therapist asks. “No better than a relationship with someone you don’t really get along with? Do you think you won’t find anything in the world that makes you happier?”

Happiness, a loaded word. Aoi was happy once, the innocent kind of happy only children can really feel. And she still is happy now, in some ways at least. She is happy when she sees her brother and his fiancee, her childhood friend Luca, she is happy when she sees the lives they have built. She is happy when she finishes a project.

“I am happy,” Aoi says out loud. The words feel hollow in her mouth.

When she climbs into her car after her session, Aoi feels strangely lonely, so she does what she usually does when that particular emotion creeps up on her. She dials her brother’s number, puts him on speaker and starts her drive home. He picks up after the first ring.

“What’s up?,” Natsume asks.

“Oh you know,” she says. “Just so bored that even talking to you seems preferable to doing nothing.”

Natsume laughs. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, have you picked a wedding venue?”

His audible groan makes her smile.

“Please, don’t you start, too. Luca and Mikan have decided that planning weddings is their calling or something and they won’t stop pestering me about it. I want one second of peace. Just one second! Can’t a guy have at least that?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, Mr. Groom-to-be,” she teases gently. “It is your wedding, after all.”

“If it were up to me, we’d get married a week from now in Imai’s workshop or something. But that sadistic witch won’t let me,” he complains. For a while, they're both silent as she weaves her way through the traffic. Eventually, he asks: “Hey, are you ok?”

“I saw Persona today. I mean, Serio. Whatever.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No,” she says. “I was...busy.”

“Oh,” he says. Again, silence stretches between them. Aoi gnaws on her bottom lip. She can practically hear her brother’s worried thoughts pile up inside his head. She realizes that although they both know Rei Serio, they know different versions of him. She knows the man who trapped her yet treated her with kindness. He knows the man who kidnapped his sister and hurt him and his friends.

“How can you stand to even look at him?” The words burst out of her unwillingly.

“I don’t know,” Natsume answers. She overtakes another car and stops at a red light before he answers. “I guess one day I just looked at him and realized that hating him would never make me a better person. Part of me will always feel those feelings but...he saved Mikan. I can’t ignore what he did to you but I can’t ignore that either. He seems like he’s trying to change and he better be because if he ever hurts anyone ever again, I’ll kill him.” She knows her brother well enough to understand he’s serious. “But until then,” Natsume continues. “Until he hurts someone, I’ll let him be. Let him try to be better, I guess.”

Aoi is still pondering his words when she pulls into her driveway.

“Hey….Do you have his number?,” she asks before she can stop herself.

“I...Yeah. Mikan gave it to me. Why?”

“Tell him to meet me,” Aoi says. “Tomorrow morning, at the Starburst cafe. Tell him not to be late.”

“Alright,” Natsume says. “I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

And she does, even more than she already has, loves him so fiercely it makes her smile despite her thudding heartbeat. Perhaps some of her mother’s liquid fire courage is finally stirring inside of her, or maybe it’s just the craziness her brain can never quite shed, but whatever it is, it’s pushing her forward, pushing her to meet the man who shaped her past.

Everything comes back to her after her brother frees her. Colors, feelings a sense of purpose. But he sends her away after a few precious days and she feels lost. Her Alice is still gone and the darkness may have a different form now but it’s still there. She makes her father leave the lights on when he tucks her in before sleep, because she is afraid of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling helpless once more. The children at school smile at her and they don’t ask questions. She is thankful and smiles back, thinking that maybe this could be a new beginning. Freedom is exhilarating and wonderful and more, much more than she could have imagined. She dreams of her brother and her mother, of seeing them again. Time, she believes in her heart, will bring all of them together one day. For a while the fear vanishes entirely, but then her brother dies and it flares up, blazes like a flame. Freedom is cruel and terrifying and more, much more than she can handle.

They meet in a small cafe. He’s already there and she can see him through one of the windows, sitting at a table for two and staring straight ahead. For just a few seconds, Aoi wants to turn and and leave. It would be the easy thing to do, it would make the panic disappear again, for a few moments at least. The life she has now, the life she has built, has survived without Rei Serio’s interference. She doesn’t need a resolution to this story, never has. But her reflection in her car window looks back at her through big, deep red eyes and she remembers her mother, beautiful and fierce, the mother she has never known but who maybe, just maybe, is just as alive inside of her as the fear is. Aoi gets out of her car, grabs her keys as tightly as she can and walks forward.

He raises his head when she enters. The shock is back except this time she’s familiar with it. When she sits down on the other side of the table, she scoots back with her chair back, widening the space between them. “So,” she says. “What did you want to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Serio says. He glances at the gap between her and the table and then up to meet her eyes. “I don’t think I would have, if I were in your position.”

“Well, we’re not the same person,” Aoi says forcefully. All the words she has swallowed before, all the thoughts her session with her therapist has reawoken spill forth now. The smile she usually wears feels impossible to accomplish and so she lets kindness drain from her features as she presses her shaking fists into her legs. She forgets to breathe, lets the anxiousness wash over her, lets her feelings carry the words out of her mouth.  “We were never the same, you and me. I don’t care what happened to you, what sadness they put you through. You took my life and you twisted it around and you had no right to do that, none.”

Her voice becomes louder with each word and a waiter approaches their table. She waves him off with one impatient gesture before focussing on her companion once more.

To her surprise, Rei Serio nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I don’t expect forgiveness for the things I have done. I just wanted to-”

His words are interrupted when his phone starts ringing. The paleness of his skin makes it easy to spot his embarrassment as his ears go slightly red. He peeks at his phone screen and curses softly under his breath. “Do you mind if I….” He gestures towards his phone. Aoi shrugs.

“Go ahead,” she tells him.

With a grateful nod, he picks up. Immediately, as though someone flicked over a switch, the anxiety disappears from his face and a hint of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Nobara,” he says, “Are you ok?”

His wife, Aoi thinks. The girl who somehow fell in love with a guy who hurt children, who threw them in a cage and lied to them. She doesn’t understand it, their relationship, doesn’t understand how anyone could just forget the blood on Rei Serio’s hands. But her former captor seems so non-threatening all of a sudden, so hopelessly smitten. It’s a startling transformation that reminds her of the way her brother looks at the people he loves. He, too, is lethal in a fight but there are more sides to him than the death she knows he has rained down upon others. In front of her, Serio laughs and Aoi averts her eyes. He never used to laugh when he visited her in her cage. Back then, his voice was heavy and the smell of death clung to his skin. Everything he had witnessed as a child, the horrible things her brother told her about, had twisted him into a monster.

“Does she make you better?,” she asks, after he has finished his call. The question surprises him.

“Yes,” he says, quietly at first and then again, adoration tinting every word. “Yes, she does. But...not in the way you think. She tried to change me, yes, but she did more than just that. She loved me enough to believe I could change. Like maybe all the bad things weren’t what had to define my life, like I could chose to be more than what happened, even after...even after everything.”

“I see,” Aoi says. The gap between the table and her chair lets her see her own hands. They’re laying on her legs, fingers outstretched, palms relaxed. Somewhere in between entering the cafe and listening to Rei Serio talk, fear released its grip on her heart. “Why did you come?”

“I wanted to tell you….I’m sorry. All those months you had to spent in that cage, they’re on me. If I’d been a stronger man, a braver one, I could have gotten you out. But I only ever knew the darkness as a protector. I thought… I thought it might protect you, too. From me and the school and the whole damn fucking mess that was being an Alice back then. But as you said, we’re not the same person. Far from it. You were smart enough to take the hand that tried to save you. It took me a lot longer to do the same.”

“I don’t forgive you,” Aoi says. It feels important to make that clear, to make him realize that understanding him doesn’t erase the past, just puts it into perspective.

“I don’t expect you to,” Serio clarifies. “I just wanted...I wanted you to know that you were never to blame for that fire, or the cage, or your blindness. You never walked into that darkness by your own volition, I pushed you in.”

“I know,” Aoi counters almost automatically. Of course she knows. Right? Of course she has never spent the entire night imagining all the people who got hurt in that town fire or those many many months she never once tried to escape from her cage. Of course she never agonized over her own weakness and wondered how much faster her brother would have gotten away from Persona. Of course she knows. She breathes in and out and looks at him, her heated emotions replaced with pity.

“I never want to see you again,” Aoi tells Rei Serio.

He nods mutely. She thinks that this might be what endings feel like.

She feels lost when she isn’t in a relationship. Before, her father was always there but now she’s living alone and it makes her feel frail. It becomes harder and harder to stay positive, to keep going. Then, one day, she sees a girl with dark hair and dark eyes. They meet, they talk, they fall in love. It’s overwhelming and crazy and life-changing but the girl is like a bird, always ready to take flight and Aoi wants nothing more than for her to stay stay stay. The girl doesn’t want to stay and suddenly Aoi is alone again. She finishes her degree, she starts working. Possibilities are endless, are a chasm opening up in front of her to swallow her whole. She takes the first job she is offered and immerses herself in it. This is right, she tells herself. This is a great opportunity. This is who she is now, even if it feels nothing like the girl she was before and nothing like the girl she set out to be.

They part ways soon after that but she doesn’t go back to her car right away, instead opting to take a walk in a nearby park before sitting down on a bench. Rei Serio is a different man. It doesn’t change the fact that a long time ago, he was a bad one, but it does make her question other things. Perhaps it is possible to shed her skin. Perhaps it is possible to leave the familiar form of her body behind, to slip out of it like one would slip out of a dress and become something, become someone new.

At home, Aoi pulls her first architectural plans from the wall and stares at them. She’s been doing this job for years now and so she can spot all her small mistakes, her miscalculations, the moments where she got lazy. Still, something about the building is magical in the way only beginnings can be. It reminds her of her university days, of meeting her first girlfriend and sneaking kisses from her between classes.

“Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge”. She picks up a pencil and turns the plans upside down. Her old drawings are still visible but less defined, not a finished product but the first buds of a new idea. Kneeling in front of her plans, she starts drawing. The metal is replaced with wood but she keeps the glass. Aoi draws a building that is floating, balancing walls of windows on poles of wood. One forest fire and the whole thing would come down, she thinks, and the thought makes her feel giddy not scared. She adds steel to the wooden poles, a hidden core of strength. She wants a building that both blends into its surroundings and enhances them, something that looks time and obscurity in the eye and gives both a defiant middle finger.

Her dark hair falls into her forehead, her fingers become smudged and her back hurts. But the house she is building keeps growing, takes on a life of its own. It isn’t a factory, it’s not made to be sturdy but it’s strong in structure as well as in character. Being blind for a few months has granted her the ability to feel materials as well as see their beauty, and now she can imagine it all, the coolness of the steal and the smoothness of the polished wood, the warmth of the sun shining through the enormous windows. The house is new and good and it has character, spirit, a genuine fire her other houses lacked.

Steps on the staircase make her turn around. Paige is there, her hair still tied back from a long day at work. She looks tired and for the first time Aoi wonders whether perhaps her girlfriend dislikes the fighting just as much as she does, dislikes what they’ve become and how they’ve trapped one another in a tight ball of expectations and fear.

“Hey,” she says tentatively.

“Hey,” Paige says. She stares down at the plans on the ground before sinking to the floor to sit next to Aoi. “You’re building something,” she says, less question, more statement of a fact.

“Yes,” Aoi says. “It’s a design for an architecture competition. Do you like it?”

Paige stares at it for a while.

“It’s beautiful,” she says eventually. “I didn’t know you wanted to design houses like that.”

“Me neither.”

They sit next to each other and Aoi scoots over until she can slip her hand into her girlfriend’s. The skin feels strange to her, unfamiliar.

“I think….I think this is over,” she says at length.

It’s strange that the words come to her now, when they aren’t fighting or yelling at each other. It’s almost peaceful to sit next to Paige, to feel the warmth of her body. But it isn’t romance, not anymore. Maybe the lack of anything between them is something only silence could reveal or maybe Aoi has seen it the whole time but really was too scared to search for something better.

“Yeah,” Paige says. She looks down at their clasped hands, squeezes them once and lets go. “I think so, too.”

They end up not having to fight over who gets the apartment. Paige owned it before they got together, it’s only fair she gets to keep it now. Aoi packs her things and leaves. It’s early morning so she drives to a copy shop to scan her design blueprint before forwarding it to the rich guy’s address. Then she climbs back into her car and drives two hours to her brother’s house.

He opens the door after the first knock and doesn’t seem all that surprised when he sees her belongings in boxes. He just picks them up, carries them into his home and then turns around to hug her.

“Hey, sis,” Natsume says.

“Hey idiot,” Aoi answers.

She falls asleep next to him that night, nestled between him and Mikan and it’s the best sleep she has gotten in months. Aoi doesn’t end up staying with them long, only two weeks or so. The money she receives when the rich guy tells her he wants to commission her to design his house is enough for her to rent out a small apartment, one filled with no one but her. She quits her job, too, and it’s easier than she expected. At night, she still sleeps with her lights turned on and sometimes the emptiness of her apartment is a terrifying thing.

The fear inside her never leaves and the memories don’t do either. She still sees her therapist, too, and it helps, even if it sometimes makes her question her own strength. But her life is all of it - the fire that destroyed her home town, her lost eyesight, her time in the Academy with Rei Serio, her brother’s love and her mother’s death. It’s a crazy life, and a good one and more than anything, it is hers. 

[chasingcorners]

Bantayan, Philippines Accommodation: Airbnb and Coucou Bar Hotel and Restaurant Duration: 6 days After a night in Cebu City we were ready to begin our journey north, up the west coast of Cebu Island and across the Tanon Strait to Bantayan Island. The Pittsburgh Penguins had an important game that morning which I was adamant about watching. My fandom left us with little time and a tight window to make the last bus that would allow us to catch the final ferry for the day. As we ran into the station we immediately spotted a bus with a sign for Hagnaya, the town where the ferry was to depart from. We hopped on with our backpacks only to find that it was absolutely packed with people. There was no room to sit let alone maneuver. We asked the guy working the bus if there would be another soon. He assured us there would be and told us to wait in the same spot. After 20 minutes or so doubt began to set in. We asked the station attendants who gave us ambiguous answers, leaving us with little confidence that we would be traveling that day. I started running around to other parts of the station when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small bus with a sign for Hagnaya Port! It was a different company and a much smaller, older looking bus…but it was going to where we needed to go. We got on and asked some locals if this was, in fact, the correct bus. They assured us that it was and off we went. The ride took about four hours. The bus dropped us off at the ferry station which conveniently left within minutes of our arrival. After an hour and a half on the ferry we arrived to the remote island, hungry and tired from a stressful day of travel. Bantayan is a fairly large island. There are a few communities that inhabit different parts of the island, some in small villages and others in slightly larger towns. The island itself is off the international tourist radar, leaving it pure and undeveloped. It is a hidden gem with beautiful beaches, amazing people and uninterrupted local flavor. I hope it never changes, but the locals are not optimistic. It’s remoteness saved it’s serenity and kept the large hotel chains away. The “airport” (which consists of one gravel runway and a plane used for skydiving) is not capable of receiving commercial flights, which has been the key to keeping Bantayan a secret. But once that changes, the island will as well. Vanessa found us an Airbnb accommodation with a family who has a spare apartment on their property. Crissy, the Airbnb host, picked us up from the ferry and drove us to their house. It was quite far outside of Santa Fe, but its remoteness and location added to the experience. After maneuvering down a few dirt paths we arrived to a very small village. The village was very rural with only a few paths among the trees. We pulled up to a gated house and drove into the property. We were shocked. It was like a parallel universe to the outside world. There property sat right on the beach and had a perfectly manicured yard scattered with palm trees, a volleyball court and a gazebo overlooking the clear water. Their quaint white house was quite the contrast to the village homes outside. Our apartment was separate from the house. It had a full kitchen and a huge bedroom/living room. We were excited to say the least. Crissy is Filipina and her husband, Joe, is a middle aged Scottish fellow. They have two children. Mixed marriages are not uncommon on the island (or in the Philippines for that matter). On the island there was a surprisingly large expat community almost exclusively made up of men, most of whom were either married to or dating locals. It seems a little weird at first, particularly when there is a large age gap between the two, but we met others that were much closer in age too. Many Filipina women do actively seek out foreigners and are often encouraged by their families to do so. This is typically for monetary reasons. I am by no means saying that this is always the case and we met plenty of couples with whom it was clearly not the situation. Honestly, it is usually quite obvious as the couples in it for the wrong reasons are usually far apart in age and visibly unhappy. We’ve seen this elsewhere, but it was definitely the most prevalent in the Philippines. Crissy told us that the village’s annual “fiesta” was taking place on the night of our arrival and warned us that the music would be blaring for most of the evening and into the night. We took that as an invitation. These are the opportunities that we hope for while on the road. Around 9pm we wandered out the door and followed the music. We maneuvered our way down a dark path and within minutes found ourselves in the center of the village at a full blown Filipino fiesta! The two of us stood out like sore thumbs. This is a village of 500 people so everyone knows each other. All eyes were on us. It was fairly dark with a few lights coming from the five or six food stands. There were also one or two gambling stands where dozens of men gathered around to bet on which number an oversized dice would land on. But the real party was on the basketball court. A 20x10 foot wall of speakers towered over the courts. Plastic tables and chairs filled with people drinking stood around the evening’s dance floor. Kids flooded the dance floor. Teenagers and adults also jammed out to the eclectic and repetitive mix that the DJ put out. We stood there wide eyed taking in the scene. I couldn’t help but smile to myself and appreciate the beautifully obscure moment in the middle of the jungle on a remote Philippine island. Apparently we caught the attention of a few young guys sitting at a table. They smiled and kindly invited us to join them. We accepted and made our way over. After some high decibel conversation we learned that two of them were brothers and the rest were friends. Their family was sitting at the table next to us. They offered us some of their libations (grape tang powder poured directly into a bottle of rum) and we shot the shit. We talked sports, family, jobs etc. The older brother was 27 years old and has two children with his current wife and one from a girl he dated when he was 16 who now lives in Ohio. His younger brother was 21 and has one child. One is a Stephen Curry fan and the other a Lebron fan. They both idolize Manny Pacquiao. Apparently, the annual fiesta is also the annual award ceremony. Trophies are given out for an array of local sports champions. Little did we know, but we were sitting with the basketball champs. After quite a few shots of their concoction we were convinced to dance. The whole family joined us on the dance floor. We stood in a circle moving and grooving Filipino style. It was hilarious. Depending on the song the dance floor is either full or empty, we went back and forth quite a few times…it was like clockwork. Apparently the DJ only plays song when someone pays. He would then announce the name of the the sponsor for the next X number of songs. To be a part of the annual fiesta in a small village on a remote island in the Philippines is something special. It is not always easy to find something so local and festive. It the kind of experience that we hope for every day during our travels. Bantayan continued to deliver. The following day we took the motorbike for a cruise to explore the backroads of the island. The bumpy dirt roads were canopied with massive palms. Small rundown homes were nestled among the lush jungle vegetation with a few makeshift basketball courts, churches and shops in between. I pulled over to take a few pictures when a group of young children immediately spotted me and ran over to say hi. They were so excited. All of them jumped into my shots and started to pose, it was hilarious. This scene caught the attention of a guy nearby who told us to follow him on our motorbike to a spot nearby where him and his friends were swimming. He seemed trustworthy enough so we followed his lead. A few minutes later we arrived to the bay where five or six of his friends were hanging out. They were in their early 20s, both guys and girls. The crew invited us right in. They told us that on this part of the beach there was a freshwater deposit and that the hole is the shape of a heart. Neither of us really wanted to go in. I was happy just chatting on the beach. They weren’t going to drag me in, but Vanessa was a different story. A very strong (and apparently drunk…as I found out from her friend) girl took Vanessa by the arm and literally dragged her in with all of her clothes on. It was pretty aggressive, but funny watching from the sidelines. I stayed on the beach chatting with a very outspoken young man. He was back visiting his family as he recently moved to Manila to go to university. Vanessa enjoyed the water. After an hour or so we said our goodbyes and continued our motorbike tour. That night, sick of Filipino food, we decided to check out a spot called Bantayan Burrito Company. It is located on the main road in Santa Fe in a small cove of outdoor restaurants. We were warmly welcomed to sit with a group of four foreigners. The tipsy crowd was very inviting and we quickly dove into conversation. The crew all knew each other. They were all expats who were living on Bantayan. One of them was the British owner of the burrito shop, another two were American brothers who ran a non for profit company building houses and repairing coral on and around Bantayan. They all had local girlfriends who were chatting in the kitchen, but later came over to join the party. One thing lead to another and the owner of the burrito shop told us that they all planned to go to a party at the “airport”. Our new friends invited us to join which we obviously agreed to. We drove our motorcade about ten minutes up the island until we hit a dirt road that lead us through an opening in a feeble fence that surrounded the airport. We rolled up to the only building on the airport’s property, a small rundown one-story house with three white rooms. Hanging out on the stairs and porch were eight very drunk locals and one weathered and adventurous looking older Canadian fellow. We quickly learned that he was the skydiving instructor that runs a small business on the island. He seemed drunk to us, but we quickly learned that he was many years sober. The young and friendly man next to him was unmistakably drunk, he was the pilot. There was a spread of food inside the building and a bottle of liquor outside. We were greeted warmly and offered plenty of drinks. It was a warm Filipino night at the airport, the light from the small terminal was the only one for kilometers. The local electronic music blared as the flushed faced locals swung their hips and encouraged us to join in. We did. The pilot and skydiving instructor took us to see their bright red three seater airplane, the only one on the island. It was old and awesome. It was a successful night with new friends and another for the Bantayan memory bank. Top Things to do in Bantayan Paradise Beach It’s an adventure to get here, but that’s what makes it special. On our trusty motorbike we followed directions that we found online. It required some hairy maneuvering down the backroads of Bantayan, particular towards the end. Given its remoteness we were surprised to find a guy chilling in the shade collecting a fee to enter. It was a nominal amount. The beach has flawless white sand and clear water. It is hidden in a cove providing a sense of enchantment. We were the only people there, it was perfect. Kota Beach Another very unique beach, but easier to find. The beach is located just off the main street in Santa Fe. It sits in front of Kota Beach Resort, but anyone can just walk on. While the water is clear, there are jellyfish (as there were at every beach) and some of them are deadly. I scouted the area before taking a dive into the ocean but obviously missed something. As I threw my arms into the water I felt a shock through my entire system. I dove directly into a four foot jellyfish. Its tentacles wrapped around my arm. I pulled away taking the tentacles with me which cause an excruciating stinging sensation. Immediately red lines appeared on my arm and within seconds they began to puff up like blisters. Luckily we were near the hotel. I ran over and asked for vinegar which they had readily available for instances like this. The vinegar subdued the swelling leaving me with red and itchy arms. St. Peter and Paul Church Located in the town of Bantayan, this is one of the oldest churches in the Philippines. We walked into a packed house. The town of Bantayan is worth visiting, it reminded us of some of the small towns we stumbled across in South America. On the square there was also an excellent bakery worth ducking into for some dessert. Ogtong Cave The cave is located within a run down resort on the island. It costs a couple bucks to get in. In the middle of the resort’s property there is a short flight of wooden stairs that takes you into the small opening. Inside the cave is a beautiful fresh water spring. It was small but stunning. We swam around and explored a little deeper. Afterwards we walked down to the hotel’s beachfront and enjoyed the shallow waters. Best Restaurants in Bantayan Bantayan Burrito Company This is where we met our expat friends. The burritos were as excellent as the company. The atmosphere is an inviting spot to sip on a San Miguel. Local Seafood Restaurant across from Coucou Hotel This place had made to order food, a rarity in a lot of the Philippines. The food was really good for a change and for the right price.