#AND the way they portrayed that relationship had a deep effect on me. i saw a lot of myself in sherlock and the complex way he loved john

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Broke (2016): BBC Sherlock is a phenomenal piece of media and anything that seems like a flaw just hasn't been fully explored yet

Woke (2020): BBC Sherlock is an incredibly flawed series run by an egotistical writer, it never deserved the hype and is actively bad on so many fronts (especially representation)

Bespoke (2024): BBC Sherlock is flawed and bogged down by increasingly poor writing, which many fans refused to see while it was airing, leading to hugely misplaced expectations (particularly for the final series), AND it has the seeds of some compelling characterizations and portrayals, some genuinely solid performances, and touches--albeit imperfectly--on complexities that are still being discussed today (particularly as it relates to the relationship between Sherlock and John). The huge cultural impact of the show has created a massive pendulum effect in its public perception, leading to most people today remembering a caricature of the show (whether positive or negative) rather than appreciating its nuanced merits and failings...that being said Season 4 sucked

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 10

Author's Note: Finally took that exam, so glad that's over with. This is the second to last part in this series, so enjoy!

Content: When Y/N interviews the police chief, he finally tells her where his children are hiding. When the team arrives at the scene, the plot thickens as they must negotiate with the unsubs to get them into custody and return one teammate to safety.

Warnings: Established relationship, typical BAU level violence, mention of the death penalty (I'm 99% sure that's illegal in Colorado, but it's for dramatic effect), allusions to abuse, gunshots

Without another word, we rose from our respective positions around the table. Matt helped me get situated on the walker and we began our slow trek down the dimly lit hallway to the interrogation wing. Luke helped me get set in the interrogation room. Just as he began to fold up the walker and take it with him out of the room, I had a thought, “Leave it,” I said. 

“The walker?” Luke asked. “No offense, but I don’t think you should be doing a lot of walking around during this interrogation.” 

I sighed, “Not for that. It’s part of the dramatic effect. A man like Graydon needs concrete evidence of what his kids have done, the walker serves as another reminder that they’re out there hurting people.” Luke’s mouth dropped open a bit and he nodded in agreement, leaving the walker next to my seat at the interrogation room table. Spencer’s empty chair was still at my right side, and I forced myself to look away from it. 

After a few moments alone in the room, the door swung open as Rossi led a handcuffed Graydon to his seat across from me. “Agent L/N?” Graydon said as Rossi snapped his handcuffs shut, attaching him to the interrogation room table, “What happened to you?” 

I waited until Rossi left the room to respond. I watched as the door swung shut for the final time, and I took a deep breath. “Your children happened to me,” I deadpanned. I turned my head back towards the one-way glass so he could see the blood-soaked bandages littering the back of my head. I saw Graydon wince in the mirror. “Your daughter is quite well-versed with a baseball bat,” I said as I turned to face him again. 

He shook his head. “Does this mean they’re both in custody?” 

“Quite the opposite,” I said, “they’re on the run.” I allowed a few silent moments to pass as Graydon acknowledged the weight of the words I’d uttered. 

“Where's your partner?” Graydon nodded towards the empty chair next to me. 

“Your children have taken my partner as ‘collateral’,” I made air quotes with my hands to further demonstrate my point. 

“Oh, God,” Graydon mumbled. 

“That’s why I need you to tell me where their hideout is,” I said, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. 

Graydon shook his head, holding his free hand up in the air as if to portray his innocence. “I have no idea.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second. Even if you don’t know for certain, you’ve lived in this area your whole life, and I believe you know an area where they are likely to be,” I spat bitterly. “Do you realize what’s going to happen if you continue to protect them this way?” 

Graydon looked at the tabletop shamefully, choosing not to respond. I sighed in disgust, “Fine, I’ll fill you in. For starters, your children have already killed more than ten people, and their capacity to do so is a result of the physical and psychological trauma you’ve put them through over the years.” Graydon winced once more as the consequences of his own actions came back to bite him. 

“Second, your children have taken a federal agent hostage. If this agent dies at the hands of your children, any hope they have to not face the death penalty will go out the window. I will personally make sure that they are punished to the fullest extent of the law.” Graydon covered his face with his hands as I continued to talk, choosing to ignore his agony for the sake of getting the information I needed. 

“On a more personal note,” I lowered my voice, “you mentioned earlier that I don’t understand the lengths you’d go to protect someone you love. You should know that the agent your children have taken hostage is not only my partner, but undoubtedly the love of my life.” I felt tears pricking at the corner of my eyes again, and I chose to let them fall this time. “If you do not tell me where they are, we’re both going to lose people we love tonight. Don’t let that happen.” 

Graydon lowered his face from his hands. Tears streamed down both of our faces as he uttered the next words as a whisper, “58493 West 600th Street.”

“What is it?” I asked. 

“It’s their grandparents' old house. It’s been abandoned since Lucia’s father died ten years ago. Sometimes they’d go stay there when I…” he trailed off, flexing his fist.  

“Thank you,” I said, rising from the table. I used the walker to balance myself and began heading for the door. I swung the door open, using the walker as a prop before I paused and turned back. “Graydon,” I said. The defeated former police chief turned his head towards me. I spoke, “If you’re sending my team into some sort of a trap, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.” 

With that, I finished making my way out of the interrogation room. The door to the observation area burst open as the team filed out into the hallway. “Did you guys get all that?” 

“We sure did. Great job, kid,” Rossi said, offering me a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

JJ worked frantically on her tablet, plugging in the address Graydon had given us moments before. “That house is within those neighborhoods Spencer and I narrowed the search area to yesterday.” Everyone nodded. 

“Let’s roll, then,” Emily said. “Wait,” I turned towards the interrogation room. “Do you think we should bring Graydon with us?” The group fell silent. “Bringing their true target to their doorstep seems kind of unsafe, don’t you think?” Luke asked. 

“No,” I said, “it’s the perfect way to distract and throw them off.” Emily considered this for a moment. 

“She’s right,” Emily said, “Rossi, go get Graydon. He can ride with us.” 

“I’m coming too,” I said. 

JJ sighed, “I’m not surprised. You can ride with me.” We made our way out of the precinct and into the chill of the evening once more. Luke helped me into the passenger seat of the SUV before climbing in the back, JJ in the driver’s seat. I noticed the time on the dashboard. It was only three in the morning, we’d just been here for twenty-four hours. 

We were third in the line of SUVs which whipped out of the precinct parking lot. Luke plugged the address Graydon had given us into the SUV’s dashboard. The house was less than ten minutes away. I bounced my leg in anticipation. What if we were too late?

The rest of the drive was made in silence. The row of SUVs came to a halt in front of the address. Emily’s voice came over the radio, “Graydon says it’s back through those trees. This property looks to have been rundown for a while. Watch your step. Rossi is going to hang back with Graydon in the SUV. If we need him, Rossi will bring him.” 

JJ shot me a look from the driver’s seat. “You have to wait here,” she said. 

“I know,” I whispered. 

“We’ll be back shortly,” Luke said, slipping his vest over his head and hopping out of the back seat. JJ followed suit, leaving me alone in the SUV. I watched the team disappear into the treeline near the road, leaving me alone in the dark of the Colorado night. 

I waited patiently for five minutes. The radio had not buzzed, and I had seen no lights come from the direction of the house within the treeline. Suddenly, the radio sprung to life, “Rossi, we need our bargaining chip.” 

I shuddered. Bargaining chip? I couldn’t stand to wait anymore. I grabbed a stray vest from the back seat, slipping it on over my head. As Rossi drug Graydon out of the SUV and towards the house, I opened my car door and gently lowered myself onto the ground. I opened the door to the back seat, lifting the seat to reveal the hidden compartment. I found a loaded back-up handgun tucked inside a case, and I tucked it into my waistband. 

I saw the walker folded in the backseat and I sighed, looking at the long distance between the road and the treeline I was about to venture into. The walker isn’t going to do me any good now. 

I watched Rossi and Graydon disappear through the treeline, and I steadied my feet on the ground and forced myself to follow in their general direction. Though wobbly, my steps had improved greatly since my initial attempts when I woke up. Once I reached the treeline, I followed Emily’s instructions and watched my feet, careful not to allow myself to lose my balance on any stray limbs. 

I emerged from the treeline into an uncut lawn with a small, rickety house. A single light seemed to burn from inside, and I could see the team scattered in different positions around the building. Emily stood at the open door, clearly talking to someone inside. Rossi led Graydon up the steps and into the doorway. I could hear the voices coming from inside as I got closer. 

“Daddy dearest!” Mira called out as Rossi shoved Graydon into the doorway, “What a surprise!”

Graydon forced his eyes up from the ground. Though I couldn’t see into the house, I imagined he was looking at his daughter. “Mira, you have to stop this. Let that poor man go.” Poor man? Spencer!

“Mhm,” Mira said with a small giggle, “and why would I do that?” I continued my approach towards the house, using the tall grass as my only cover. I made brief eye contact with Luke who was crouched behind an exterior window. His wide eyes begged me to go back to the car, but I chose to ignore him. 

“Mira,” Graydon spoke again, “he hasn’t done anything to you. Just let him go.”

Another cackle rang out into the night. “You’re so right, Dad. He hasn’t done anything. But you,” I was close enough I could see Mira swinging a baseball bat around as she spoke, “you’ve got a lot to answer for.” 

I slipped up on to the porch behind Emily, Rossi, and Graydon. My sudden arrival caused a step to creak, taking Rossi by surprise as he raised his eyebrows incredulously. I shook my head, a signal for him not to let on to my presence on the porch. I crouched by a front window, scanning the room inside. Finally, I saw Spencer. Though undoubtedly bruised, he was conscious, sitting tied to a wooden chair in the corner of the room. I almost sighed in relief. I could see him scanning the room, looking for some way to free his hands. 

A male voice came from the opposite side of the room, “If he has anyone to answer to, it’s me.” Phillip Graydon came into view, standing next to his sister. “How many times did you send me to that fucking hospital?” 

Graydon shook his head. “W-what I did was wrong, but what you two are doing isn’t going to make that right.” 

Mira scoffed. The fire in her eyes burned stronger. “Don’t preach to us about right and wrong. You’re the one who used us as punching bags for eighteen years. We wouldn’t have started all this if it hadn’t been for you. We were going to get to you eventually, you know,” she pointed the bat at her father, a snarl evident on her lips. 

She walked over to Spencer in the corner of the room, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to look at her. “Regardless, we should all just be grateful I haven’t bashed this guy’s pretty little head in yet,” she lifted the baseball bat, resting it gently against Spencer’s head. I felt an anger and a sickness rising in my stomach. I had to do something. 

I shot up from my position next to the window, ignoring the throbbing sensation in the back of my head. I pushed Rossi and Graydon both out of the way, taking center stage in the doorway. I made eye contact with Spencer, who looked stunned to see me standing before him. I could feel Emily’s anxious eyes burning into the back of my head from her position on the corner of the porch. “Mira, I need to talk to you,” I said. 

“So much for bleeding out, Phil,” she said, gesturing to me with the baseball bat. Phillip rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say my bad. “What do you want?” 

“I talked with your mother yesterday,” I started. This statement alone was enough to make both Graydon children shift nervously on their feet. Aha, maybe I’d found a soft spot. “She’s really worried about you both.”

“What did she say?” Phillip asked quickly, like a little child eager to hear from his mother. 

Mira scolded him, “Shut up, Phil.” 

“She said,” I continued, “that she really misses you guys. She asked me to come and let her know if we found you because she wants to know that you’re both alright.” I could see tears in Phillip’s eyes. Clearly that was some deeper connection between himself and his mother than I had initially anticipated. 

“If she wanted to know, she could have called,” Mira said, “Mom doesn’t care about us, Phil. She’s just like him.” She pointed at Graydon, who stood with his head hung behind me in the doorway. 

“No,” I said, stepping forward so that Graydon was out of view. “She said that he wouldn’t let her contact you. She said that she’s begged to know where the both of you were, but that she’s been kept from you for all this time because of your father. She said he ruined your family, and she wants you both back.” 

Tears streamed down Phillip’s face at that moment. “Do you hear that, Mira? Mom wants us to come home.” 

“Phillip, have you lost your fucking mind? We have no home,” Mira cried.

“But Mom-”

Mira cut Phillip off, “I don't care what she has to say. We should’ve killed her first.” Phillip rocked back on his feet, the statement cutting through him like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, I saw a certain anger burning in his eyes that told me things were about to get ugly. 

Just as the thought crossed my mind, Phillip rushed at Mira, knocking her on to the old wooden floor of the abandoned house. He wrested the baseball bat from her hands, raising it over his head as he straddled her. I quickly removed the gun from my waistband, pointing it at the both of them. I cocked the gun, and the click made both of them pause, “Phillip, drop it.”

Phillip slowly did as he was told, releasing the baseball bat as it clattered on the floor below him. He slowly climbed off his sister, holding his hands up in defeat over his head. “Now walk towards me, keep your hands over your head,” I said. 

As Phillip slowly stepped across the room, Mira shot up from her position on the floor, reaching for the baseball bat. She ran at Phillip with a loud scream, with the baseball bat raised over her head, ready to strike. 

I aimed. I fired. She was hit. She fell.

“No,” Graydon cried as his daughter crumpled on to the floor of the house, a pool of blood forming under her as she lay lifeless on the floor. 

Phillip, however, remained stoic. Rossi placed his hands behind his back, smacking handcuffs on his wrist, as Emily and Rossi led both Graydons away from the scene. I ran into the house, stepping over Mira’s body on the floor to where Spencer sat wide-eyed in the corner. “Hey, we’re going to get you out of here, okay?” I ran a hand over his face and he looked at me, nodding gently. “Luke!” I shouted. 

Luke ran into the house, careful to step over the body on the floor. “Pocket knife,” I said, holding out my hand. Luke fished around in his pocket before settling on his knife, dropping it into my hands. I leaned down behind Spencer, gently cutting the tight knots from his wrists. He tentatively moved his fingers and shifted his arms in front of his body. 

I crouched in front of him, tucking my arm under his own and draping half of his bruised body over my neck. “Luke, help me,” I said. Luke tucked himself under Spencer’s other half, helping me to carry him out of the house and back to the cars. Though Spencer tried to carry himself, I could feel his weight resting heavily on our shoulders. He was exhausted, beaten, and in need of medical attention. 

As we helped Spencer into the back of an SUV, the throbbing pain in the back of my head had become so strong that my vision blurred with each pulse. Spencer seemed to notice this, as he weakly reached his hand out of the SUV and touched the side of my face. I leaned into his touch, steadying myself on his arm before I ultimately collapsed next to the vehicle, darkness swallowing my vision once again.

To be continued...

[skarletterambles]

Just got back from Twisters!

I know the first thing everyone does it compare it to the first film, but I honestly feel they're a little like apples and oranges. Both are juicy, sweet fruit that's good for you. One's red and had an odd shape, while one is orange and round. That is, they share a lot of qualities, and the differences between them aren't inherently bad or good.

Do I like the original better? Definitely. But that doesn't mean I didn't really enjoy the second one, too.

Spoilers below.

Pros:

Glen Powell is super easy on the eyes.

The words "suck zone" were uttered.

Chickens are the new cows.

The mention of the Fujiwara Effect warmed my weather geek heart.

Excellent CGI.

Romance was less a focus in this than it was in the original, which surprised me, considering the marketing. There's a difference between rekindling a dying relationship and sparking a new one, of course, but the second movie focused more on bonds forged through emotional support than romantic vibes.

I watch enough YouTube storm chasers to get a kick out of the way the movie lovingly roasted them and that culture.

El Reno: a name that will live in tornadic infamy, even if the storm it's most known for didn't hit the town itself (thank goodness). I'm glad they used that location instead of destroying Wakita again or some other random town.

They didn't take the cliché way out and make Javi a bad guy. It would have been so easy to turn him into a money-hungry bastard who saw the other guy was winning over the girl and went off the deep end. The fact that he swerved back into wholesomeness was definitely the better way to take the story.

The tornadoes didn't growl like lions.

The characters were likable enough that I cared if they lived or died. (Which may seem like a low bar, but in an action/disaster movie, it's far from a given.)

Kate's grief and trauma were portrayed realistically, not as a joke or something she should just toughen up and get over.

The wind turbines being wrecked by a twister must have seemed a bit over the top when the scenes were being shot, but after the ones that got knocked over, twisted, and even set aflame by the Greenfield, Iowa, tornado earlier this year, the ones in the movie actually fared better! Life imitates art, I guess!

Cons:

I'm not a fan of country music so the songs didn't appeal to me much. The background soundtrack was kind of forgettable, too. Nothing like the epic "We're on the hunt for a tornado" theme from the first movie (the d-duh-duh DUDDA DUH DUH" one).

Some parts were really predictable, especially the very beginning and the end.

Ben grew on me, but I think Melissa was a better example of "character from outside the storm chasing world who's terrified and confused and just wants to survive the craziness."

We learned all about Kate's past but very little about Tyler's. I would have liked more insight into what made him tick and how he got into his line of work. I know we got a little at the rodeo, but considering how much of the movie was spent going over Katie's history it felt a little unbalanced.

Kate and Tyler's banter was fine, but didn't approach the chemistry that Jo and Bill had.

Having said that, I also felt the movie was a tiny bit longer than it needed to be.

A movie theater is a terrible place to ride out a tornado. Any large room like that is. Without the support of walls, collapses are a huge risk. (Not to mention the way the Xenia F5 dropped a school bus on the stage in the high school auditorium.) You want as many walls between you and the tornado as you can get. I understand there wouldn't be room in the bathrooms and back hallways for everyone, but having Plan A be to hide between/under theater seats made me shake my head.

At least as far as I could see (and I did sit through the credits) Reed Timmer didn't get any kind of shoutout. As a significant inspiration for one of the main characters, I felt he deserved that.

Mixed:

The stormchasing sidekick characters were more diverse, ethnically, but I didn't feel they had the variety of characterization that the originals did. They all had the "grungy truck stop" aesthetic but not that much individual personality. That might be just an effect of a first viewing when it's hard to concentrate on details, though. I liked the guy usually riding shotgun with Tyler, and the drone pilot, but they're no Dusty. (Then again, who is?)

Decent humor. Not as prominent or quotable as in the first, but still worth some chuckles.

There weren't as many in-jokes and callbacks to the first movie or storm chasing culture in general as I had hoped. The ones that were there (like Kate using dandelions to do what Bill did with a handful of dirt) were nice, though.

Was the firenado realistic? No. Was it cool looking? Yeah. Was the cool factor worth stretching credulity that much? Meh. I guess.

They did point out that sheltering under an overpass is a horrible idea, which was good as that's a widespread myth that has gotten people killed, but at the same time...the characters still did it. And then proceeded to prove why it's a terrible idea by getting sucked out by the wind tunnel effect. I get that they were panicking, but if you know an underpass is a bad place to be, why not do what experts actually recommend and get down in a ditch? In a storm as strong as the one they faced, they were still screwed, I guess, but I still would have liked to see the characters act like they knew what they were "supposed" to do.

It was definitely less cheesy than the first film. As a Wisconsin girl, I like cheese, though.

I always find nitpicks to ramble about, but overall, I enjoyed it a lot. I had tried not to get my hopes up, and this movie exceeded my expectations. I don't know that I'll rewatch it every few years like I do Twister, but I wouldn't mind seeing it again at some point.

[belethlegwen]

Okay- I gotta know- what is your secret for writing characters? I adore your writing, but above all its your ability to make characters that are just

A) Very real in their environment and the way they interact with others

B) Realistic and "deep feeling"

Do you have a process or a method?? Like ANY character building advice would make me go feral.

God this ask had me reeling today trying to think of answers for you, and also just: aaaaa thank you so so so much for the compliments for real ;-;

This is going to be very much kind of flow-of-thinking writing, and I apologize. It's been a long day and I really can't settle on anything of a clear answer, but I'm gonna do my best.

So my approach to characters, specifically ones that are more of the main/core casts, is to specifically treat them like other, real people. There are some characters that are more background, that are more narrative, and that's not to say they aren't 'real people' within that world, but from the perspective of the story and the characters who we are getting the perspectives of, they are less complex and less deep. An example would be Thorne. We know as much about the man as anyone really truly cares to among the main cast, and given his position and power as it pertains specifically to the narrative of The Stranding, we won't be giving a damn about how the man likes his eggs, unlike with someone like Daniel.

Melanie and Henry as our main characters are ones we tend to get to be deep into the cores of. We're going to be in their heads and seeing through their eyes the most out of everyone, so it's not as much of a surprise that by the end of however-many chapters, you know their favourite colours and foods, what times of the day they like to wake up, and a bit of background things that build up the main gears of their decision-making processes. We're going to be seeing them do the most changing over the narrative and see more deeply how the narrative effects them.

Daniel and Peter we ALSO get into the heads of a fair bit. I'll be honest with you, I wasn't expecting when I started to write The Stranding to ever really jump directly into Daniel's perspective like I do with the others, but the more I wrote for them all and saw how important Daniel was to Peter's whole being-- they both effect each other's decision making processes a wild, wild amount-- it became almost natural to wind up behind his eyes at points.

I think that's where a lot of my character-creation and really getting into the core of people really, honestly comes from. It's thinking of how these characters connect/have connected/will connect with the main characters in the story. Why are they connecting that way, why do they have the effects that they do? There's so many layers of complexities to every relationship that you, as a person have with other real people, that once you have things set up, things just start to click into place.

Henry and Daniel do not get along. Why?

They used to get along. What happened, why did it happen, why are they still carrying these feelings? Why did they get along before? How did they click, where did they chafe against each other, etc.

What flaws are they both portraying that make this conflict worse? Have either of them learned or changed in a way that might have made it better? Can they change in a way that might make it better? How would that have to happen?

It's through these interactions-- big and small, though not in the usual way I use those words haw haw-- that you start to piece together who a character is, specifically by contrasting them against another that you might already know (or that you might think you already know-- those are the fun ones).

Here's a sneak peek at the next chapter of The Stranding, whenever I manage to get around to writing and editing again when everything here has settled down more:

-----------------------------

The sailor eased himself into the chair and groaned as loudly as the planks did while the Pyrrohn adjusted course. “She wasn’t aware--” he tried to barrel out another excuse, this time for her. Daniel was not about to have it.

“Do not feed me horse shit,” the words hissed out of him, and the spots of heat on his face made him hope his rage was obvious. Perhaps if he looked as angry as he felt, the man across from him would understand how serious this actually was. “What she did was tantamount to assault of an officer, and that will be discussed with the weight it deserves once we’re back with the Commander.”

If there was something to be said for Lemuels, it was that he was rarely an obvious man. At least, he hadn’t been back in the older days. Since he had returned, however, his expressions were larger. More varied. Readable in a way they hadn’t been before, but also now like an untranslated poem in a foreign language. Every time Grant believed he was close to understanding what Lemuels was feeling, the man did something wholly erratic in response.

Such as now, while he waited for the sailor to argue. To jump to defense. To find some excuse as to why his fifty-foot menace should avoid any punishment or consequence. Such as now, when he did the opposite.

“You’re right, she will be, and I merely want you to understand that she will be just as upset as you are that any of it happened,” Lemuels explained, a hand coming to brush the loose hairs away from his face. 

“I don’t--” Grant began to snap at the man.

“Daniel, just understand that she already understands that she shouldn’t have. That’s all.”

He wanted to shout at the man in the stupid blue coat. He wanted to demand an explanation, some kind of clarification.

But there it was, that obvious expression again: Henry Lemuels looking tired and bitter-- bitter!-- at the wall of the tiny cabin.

‘He should be preening,’ Daniel thought, shaking what the sailor had said out of his thoughts like a duck shedding water. ‘He always preened and swelled with obnoxious pride after any Naval drill or operation. The man looks like driftwood in the rain.’

“We shall see,” the Captain said tersely, eyes dropping from the sight. “Once we’re back, we shall see.”

-----------------------------

It's their mix of familiarity and strangeness with each other that I feel draws out a lot of their deeper parts. Every person you meet is a gem of many facets, and the light will hit a different side depending on the situations they're in and the other people they're interacting with. In The Stranding, they're seeing some of the old facets they were familiar with before, but also seeing new ones. They're also shining the light on facets of each other that they had been trying to hide or thought they had moved past.

Another thing I really like to do when developing/exploring a character, even for my own sake, is to remember the golden truth of writing.

You are every character you make.

In some way or another, every character is you. You are following your own logic to make decisions for them, to create the paths they're choosing to forge. Lean into this. Let it be you. Even when you're writing a character who's a foil, or someone who's there to specifically act against and conflict with your main characters, your heroes, the goals you want them to achieve... don't distance yourself from it.

You've been a 'terrible person' in your past, from someone's perspective. You've made mistakes, you've been in bad places and you've learned and grown from them. Think back to your past self, think back to the you that made those mistakes and throw away what cringe comes from it; the person you were made the decisions you made for reasons. Try to empathetic of that. Try to understand that everyone around you is always several lessons ahead of you, and several lessons behind you, in a myriad of different categories.

If you need a character, especially a more main-one, to make a decision to push the plot forward and you, yourself can not get into their head enough to find a reason why they would do it-- something with a core, something with a goal, something with a trail that led to it that you could describe as a logic that you understand, even if just a little!-- then you need to step back and rethink what you're hoping to achieve. See if there's another way to get to it.

Something your main characters/audience/someone hoping to reach the end-goal of your story will not like needs to happen, you still need to be able to go 'Yeah Daniel's being a prick, but he has his reasons. He is compelled to do these things because _____', and that core reason? A lot of the time, it can be really simple at a glance, and diving deeper into it you can discover all kinds of new, incredibly nuanced things about the characters, world and story you've created/are creating.

Daniel's core often comes back to doing what's best for The Eastern Coastal Watch. He wants it to be strong, he wants it to be able to continue to operate, he wants it to be good.

When you explore deeper into why, you find out things like the reason he's so attached to the Watch is not just because Peter's in charge and he wants to help Peter, but because he truly believes it's a branch that focuses on helping people, helping the towns and people nearby, helping the kingdom as a whole, whereas he feels the others are increasingly more about expansion, growth, power in ways that lose that noble pursuit of simply being there when they're needed by the people, etc.

Why does helping citizenry in those ways matter so much? Where did that start? These are the fun threads I really like to pull when you're getting to the core of people.

SO ANYWAY, I am sorry if this is just... wild rambling. My head's still scrambled eggs from everything going on IRL, but I really really loved getting this ask and thinking about it, and it gave me a nice chance to drag poor Daniel back out of brain storage to rotate him in the blorbo-rotator again as examples, hahaha. I don't know if this is necessarily helpful, but I hope it is? At least in some weird way? This is the kind of shit I could talk about forever if I had the spoons to go grab a coffee with someone and the coffee shop owners wouldn't be mad that I'd be there for 3-4 hours just yammering.

Whenever I'm actually like, settled and things are stable again, maybe we can connect in DMs or something and chatter about this and pick the process apart together sometime!

Much love always,

~ Belle

[fr-martin-gospel-reflections]

28th January - ‘Here is a teaching that is new’, Reflection on the readings for Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Mk 1:21-28)

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

When people confront us in an angry way we tend to react in a similar fashion. Their anger can arouse our anger. It is often the way that we react to people in ways that correspond to how they relate to us. We give back as good as we get. We can easily find ourselves feeding off each other’s anger.

The gospels suggest that this was not the way of Jesus. In today’s gospel reading a very disturbed person turned on Jesus with great anger, shouting, ‘What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are’ Jesus did not react to this man in a similarly angry way. This person’s anger did not arouse anger in Jesus. His disturbed state did not disturb Jesus. Instead, Jesus’ own calm state had a calming effect on this man. In response to his aggressive questions, Jesus simply said, ‘Be quiet! Come out of him!’, and those authoritative words had a profoundly calming effect on this man’s disturbed spirit. Jesus’ words released him from his demons. Jesus did not just react to people, rather, he responded to them out of his own deep relationship with God, his Father. As a result, his presence brought peace where there was disturbance and calm where there was turbulence. Just as he calmed the storm at sea, he could calm the storm that raged in the human spirit and took possession of a person’s life. The Lord can have the same calming effect on each of us if we open ourselves to him in our own brokenness. There is a musical chant I like very much. The lyrics are a prayer very much in keeping with today’s gospel reading, ‘Calm me, Lord, as you calmed the storm; still me, Lord, keep me from harm. Let all the tumult within me cease, enfold me, Lord, in your peace’. As we open ourselves to the Lord’s calming presence, as we grow in our relationship with him, we will be able to respond to others out of that relationship. We will become channels of the Lord’s calming and healing presence to each other.

In the gospel reading, the people in the synagogue responded to Jesus very differently to how the disturbed man reacted to Jesus. They did not respond to Jesus in anger but with astonishment. Jesus’ teaching made a deep impression on them because they recognized that, unlike their scribes, he was teaching with authority. When they then saw Jesus heal the seriously disturbed man, they said in astonishment, ‘Here is a teaching that is new, and with authority behind it’. There was a freshness, a newness, to the word of Jesus. Also, there was an authority to his word; Jesus did not just speak about the presence of God’s kingdom but he showed that God’s loving rule was present by his actions, such as his healing of the very disturbed man in the synagogue. His was a word that accomplished what it said. There was indeed something new here. According to the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Jewish Scriptures, ‘there is nothing new under the sun’; ‘What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done’. The people of Capernaum, as portrayed in today’s gospel reading, would not have agreed with that somewhat jaded sentiment. Jesus’ presence in their synagogue brought home to them that there was indeed something new under the sun. As a result, they started asking each other what it all meant. Their thoughtful question, ‘What does it all mean?’ was very different to the angry question of the disturbed man, ‘What do you want with us?’

Perhaps we have lost something of the astonishment of the people of Capernaum at the newness and authority of Jesus’ teaching. We have heard the teaching of Jesus so often that it can no longer feel new to us. We can think, ‘I have heard this before’, and we don’t pay too much attention to it. Yet, Jesus himself retains his newness today as risen Lord, and his word retains its freshness, and, also, its power and authority. We are invited to keep hearing the Lord’s word afresh and to experience its power anew. Saint Augustine once addressed God as ‘Beauty, ever ancient, ever new’. The word, the teaching, of Jesus is itself ever ancient and, yet, ever new. His word can speak to us in new ways each day of our lives because it is a living word. As the letter to the Hebrews says, ‘the word of God is living and active’. The question the people asked in today’s gospel reading, ‘What does it all mean?’ is a question we can all ask about the teaching and life of Jesus. It is a question that invites us to explore afresh the newness of the Lord, what the Lord means to me personally at this particular moment of my life’s journey. What he means to me now will be different to what he meant to me in the past or will mean to me in the future. In the words of this Sunday’s psalm, ‘O that today you would listen to his voice’. Each day, each ‘today’, the Lord speaks to us anew if we have ears to hear. Each day we too can be astonished by the Lord.

[ehlessandraspsyche]

Blog Post 3: girl... continue

TikTok Fame and Female Rage

What first drew me to Girl, Interrupted, was its fame on TikTok. I admit that I only knew about this film because I saw a clip of it with a bad game under it and because of the two TikTok sounds that grew in popularity. The first sound bite was played in a compilation of other “female rage” movies like Gone Girl and Pearl. It was Janet, an anorexic, shouting “it’s not fair, it’s not fair” in response to Daisy, another girl in Claymoore getting discharged from the mental hospital. The second clip was Lisa, Angelina Jolie’s character, saying “Everybody knows. Everybody knows that he [expletive] you. What they don’t know is that you like it” to Daisy, who kills herself the next day. The film was based on a memoir by Susanna Kaysen who wrote it based on her 18-month stay in a psychiatric hospital during the 60s. The film was very reflective of the atmosphere of the 60s, depicting the hardships of having mental health issues as a woman during the time.

Winona Ryder: The Troubled Teenager of the 90s

I also watched Girl, Interrupted because I was a fan of Winona Ryder. I first discovered her when I had my musical theater kid phase and watched “slime tutorials” of Heathers the Musical and learned that there was a Heathers movie. I became thoroughly obsessed with her works. A consistent trait of all of Winona Ryder’s characters is that they are all mentally unwell. Veronica Sawyer was in a toxic relationship and killed three people. Lydia Deetz could see ghosts and almost marries Beetlejuice. It wasn’t surprising that Susanna Kaysen, a teenager who has mental health problems, was portrayed by Winona Ryder. 

The 60s and its effects on the treatment of mentally ill women

As the film was set in the 60s, it was imperative that the tumultuous social and political climate of the time was still shown in a movie about mental health struggles. The quality of treatment of the mentally ill is dependent on the current social and political climate. Before, mental illness was covered up in deep shame. Although there is still a significant social stigma, especially in the Philippines, mental illnesses are given better treatment. What remained consistent was the mistreatment of women and their mental health. The 60s was the beginning of the Women’s Rights Movement and women were heavily scrutinized and judged based on their mental health. This could best be seen in the scene where Susanna’s initial psychiatrist almost immediately diagnoses her with Borderline Personality Disorder based only on a short interview and had her sent away to Claymoore. The treatment of the patients at Claymoore was also very “of the time”. Lisa had to endure electroshock therapy and that event caused her mental health to deteriorate further. There was something about the way that they treated the girls there that deeply resonated with me and my own struggles with my mental health.

Portrayal of Mental Health in Media

A gripe that I had with the movie was how they handled the girls’ mental illnesses. They portrayed them as a group, yet the only people whose mental illnesses we see are Lisa’s and Susanna’s. I wished the other girls weren’t reduced to the stereotypes connected to their mental illnesses. I saw the impact of the environment surrounding you on how you recover from a breakdown. When Polly had her breakdown, Susanna and Lisa made the effort to lift her spirits which stopped her from sobbing. However, we can also see how mental health professionals can also inadvertently slow down the progress one has made. What caused Lisa and Susanna to run away to Florida was when Lisa was administered electroshock therapy. Although Lisa was a sociopath, electroshock therapy should not have been used. Having a good community around you is imperative for improvement. Once Susanna realized that she wanted to be in society and not on the outskirts, she had the drive to continue and to improve. Overall, I enjoyed the film and hope that others will watch it too. It may not be a definitive “female rage” film but it certainly portrayed how gender affects how mental health professionals treat you. 

Word Count: 675

References:

The History & Evolution of Mental Health & Treatment: Sunrise. Sunrise House. (2022, November 28). Retrieved March 26, 2023, from https://sunrisehouse.com/addiction-info/history-evolution-mental-health-treatment/

IMDb.com. (2000, January 14). Girl, interrupted. IMDb. Retrieved March 26, 2023, from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0172493/

Jewell, T. (2021, November 30). Sociopath: Definition, vs. psychopath, test, traits, and symptoms. Healthline. Retrieved March 26, 2023, from https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/sociopath#treatment

Date Written: March 25, 2023

[robininthelabyrinth]

NMJ is used to taking care of everyone else. He's not used to being taken care of. After getting injured or sick or a qi divination or something, his loved ones all come together to take care of him. He learns more people care deeply about him than he realized.

And if you can include a scene with someone bathing him or washing his hair, I would be ecstatic.

ao3

“- and no excuses!” Nie Huaisang’s voice was a little shrill, but under the circumstances, Nie Mingjue didn’t entirely feel like he could object.

After all, all the yelling, shrill or otherwise, was a sign that Nie Huaisang was sincerely worried about him, something Nie Mingjue usually did his best not to doubt. His little brother was self-absorbed and carefree, just the way he’d vowed he’d let him be years before when Nie Huaisang had been little more than a child. So even if Nie Huaisang’s behavior annoyed him or worried him, which it often did, even if it seized up his heart to think about what might happen when he was gone, when there would be no one to take care of his brother for him, it still pleased him beyond measure to see his brother grow up happy.

So what if it meant taking on some extra burdens, meant doing that little bit more to conceal his hardships and portray himself as the unshakable older brother Nie Huaisang saw him as? So what if his brother’s complaints sometimes acted as thorns hooked deep in his heart, itching under his skin, making him wonder does he really think of me that way and have I gone too far this time, maybe he hates me now and all that?

Nie Huaisang was yelling at him again, voice painfully shrill and piercing, but for Nie Mingjue, to hear his brother worried for him and not from him made for a nice change.

Anyway, he himself had probably been just as shrill, when it had been his father that –

It wasn’t that bad, he reminded himself. Baxia was as strong a presence in his mind as ever, their bond uninterrupted. It only looked bad from the outside.

It looked – pretty bad from the outside.

Nie Mingjue tried to smile at Nie Huaisang, but for some reason that just seemed to make things worse: Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled up with tears at once and the scowl on his face deepened. “I’m serious, da-ge! Really serious. I’ll take care of everything, you won’t need to worry about anything at all – for real, this time – and in return, you’re staying put until the doctors say you’re better.”

Nie Mingjue nodded obediently.

Nie Huaisang burst into tears and fled the room before Nie Mingjue could even offer him a hug.

Watching his little brother run, Nie Mingjue sighed and turned his gaze towards his (usually) reliable head disciple standing guard in the corner of the room, trying to ask with his gaze what in the world he was doing wrong, but Nie Zonghui’s eyes were red like a bad attack of spring fever and he wouldn’t even look at him.

It was not, in Nie Mingjue’s view, a very effective way to guard him. Not that he needed guarding – maybe if he’d had no choice but to return injured to Jinlin Tower, that pit of vipers and nest of foxes, but despite the gravity of his wounds they’d still managed to make it as far as this little outpost in disputed territory. Even if it was a stretch, they could put soldiers here and call it justified as being land under the command of Qinghe Nie…though possibly Jin Guangshan would try to find some way to use them doing that to his advantage.

And Nie Mingjue wasn’t exactly up for another war at the moment.

He wasn’t up for anything.

“Stop thinking of politics,” Nie Zonghui said, and his voice was hoarse as if he’d been swallowing sobs. Nie Mingjue wondered how he’d guessed. “I always can tell because your nose wrinkles whenever you think too hard about it…ah, A-Jue, you scared us.”

Scared his half-generation uncle enough to revert back to using childhood nicknames, apparently.

Nie Mingjue wished he could say something to comfort him.

Well, if he were wishing for things, forget wishing that he hadn’t been struck temporarily mute, he might as well go the full way and wish that the terrible creature he’d been fighting – a demon of especially vicious character, and so unexpectedly near to Lanling, too! – hadn’t taken advantage of the weakness he still suffered from, after the Nightless City, to attack his saber rather than himself.

Might as well wish, too, that he’d never been captured in Yangquan in the first place. That he’d never been beaten or tortured, that he’d never had a hundred Wen feet kicking at his saber in some pale shadow their sect leader, attempting to break him as their sect leader had broken his father.

How he had felt when the demon’s blow had fallen straight onto his blade and she had cracked –

Baxia was fine. He could feel her.

(He remembered his father shouting for someone to bring him his saber, long gone, and wondered –)

Baxia was fine.

He’d examined her a thousand times and couldn’t see any true damage – the physical damage was artificially induced, located at the far end; for a regular saber, it wouldn’t be anything to think twice about, a bit of hammering in the forge and it would be as if it had never happened, with no lingering weakness. It was only if her spirit had been harmed, or the bond between them, that his own spirit would be injured, his mind affected, and that hadn’t happened. He’d checked, was checking, time and time again. She was fine.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell anybody that.

When the blade had cracked, he’d reacted on instinct in a fit of panic, sending all of his qi immediately to his bond with Baxia, desperately and frantically trying to ensure that his soul wasn’t torn out of his hands the way his father’s had been, that gruesome descent into madness and frothing aimless rage. The demon had sensed his distraction and gone for his throat with its claws, and then the rest of the Nie sect that had come on the night-hunt with him had descended upon it like howling wolves, throwing everything they’d brought with them at it.

Not a good night-hunting strategy (what if the demon hadn’t been alone? what if it was huddled together with other creatures of resentful energy the way they usually were, and using up their arsenal on it left them vulnerable? what if they encountered something on the way back?), but admittedly very effective.

The demon had been utterly vanquished – and really, all the admonishments not to think of politics aside, it was very unusual for such a thing to be lurking around in the environs of another Great Sect like that, especially when that sect had invited its guests to casually night-hunt to entertain themselves – and now they were here.

Or rather, he was here, lying in bed with needles stuck in him like a porcupine, drinking bowl after bowl of medicine as his brother frantically hovered over him. And Nie Mingjue was yielding to it all without complaint even when it was really annoying (he’d never been a very good patient) because he understood, having once been there in Nie Huaisang’s place when his father had been in his, except all his complaisance seemed to be only making Nie Huaisang even more upset.

Baxia grumbled in his mind, having apparently realized that they weren’t going night-hunting again until she was fully repaired and all the worry-warts around him satisfied, and he comforted her with his own misery at the idea: stuck in bed, not allowed to train, not allowed to hunt –

He’d tried to mime the idea of doing some correspondence, since much of it was in fact urgent and he couldn’t even imagine how much of the endless work of being sect leader would pile up in the event of an elongated absence, and Nie Huaisang had thrown a fit, and also several teacups.

Apparently he wasn’t even allowed to do that.

Nie Mingjue sighed and sank back into the bed, briefly putting on an exaggerated pout that made Nie Zonghui laugh a little, the sound wet in his throat. But then, once he’d turned away and followed Nie Huaisang out the door, Nie Mingjue’s pout faded into a resigned sigh.

A little while later, he heard familiar voices at the door.

“ – came as soon as I could, of course,” Jin Guangyao was saying, sounding a little – amused? Long-suffering? What a strange emotion for him to openly display, given the circumstances. Even if he was enjoying someone’s misfortune, and Nie Mingjue knew that his sworn brother often did, he would normally be more tactful about expressing it. “Your missive wasn’t very clear about what the issue was, Huaisang.”

Well, that would explain it. If it was Nie Huaisang, being called to assist with a disaster might mean anything from the dramatic breaking of a fan to the even more dramatic prospect of being forced to actually do some work for once in his life. It very rarely referred to actual disaster.

There was the muffled sound of sobbing – it turned Nie Mingjue’s stomach to hear Nie Huaisang like that, but the last day or so had shown him that there was nothing he could do about it – and then some quiet discussion, too low to hear without trying, and Nie Mingjue had gotten some very stern lectures on how much he was not to try anything for a while.

The murmuring continued for a little, and then – “What?!”

A moment later, Jin Guangyao rushed into Nie Mingjue’s room, usual smile still frozen on his face and his eyes a little wider than usual. It was a refreshingly subdued reaction, Nie Mingjue thought: none of the wide-eyed teary eyes or drooped shoulders that usually accompanied Jin Guangyao’s demonstrations of upset feelings, the pity-me scenes that felt so staged now that Nie Mingjue knew what an able actor Jin Guangyao was.

This time, though, he seemed almost sincere.

Jin Guangyao stopped a few steps into the room, staring at where Nie Mingjue was lying, expression still frozen for a moment, and then the ice melted and the artifice returned, a look of sorrow and sympathy – look at how bad you’ve made me feel by being hurt like that – that made Nie Mingjue want to sigh. He’d been happier, their relationship better, before he’d gotten to peek under the mask Jin Guangyao wore, but it hadn’t been the truth, and he always preferred a hard truth over a soft lie.

“Oh, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao murmured. “Da-ge, poor da-ge…how are you feeling?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing, of course, and Jin Guangyao frowned.

“He can’t talk,” Nie Huaisang said, having followed him into the room. “His throat was nearly ripped out –”

For fuck’s sake, it was a scratch.

“– and he was almost entirely drained of his qi. I could barely feel his heartbeat when I arrived! And he hasn’t been acting like himself, either! I don’t know, I just – I don’t remember what it was like, la – last – last time –”

The tears were starting again, and Nie Mingjue tried to raise a hand to reach out to Nie Huaisang, wanting to comfort him, but something about the gesture made Nie Huaisang sob even harder and even Jin Guangyao looked a little taken aback, even a little stricken. Maybe it was the amount of effort it took for him to lift his hand, the way he had to stop and start the movement? The way his fingers trembled with the effort it took to keep it up in the air?

(His father hadn’t been like this at all. Maybe Nie Huaisang had been too young, Nie Zonghui too distant, but Nie Mingjue remembered it as if it were yesterday – there hadn’t been weakness, not like this. His father had been in a coma for three days and nights, and then he’d woken up. He’d seemed fine at first, not weak at all beyond the usual sluggishness that followed after a period of unconsciousness, and then he’d asked for his saber – and kept asking, no matter how many times they tried to explain –)

Baxia was fine.

The weakness was his own.

It wasn’t like that.

“How can I help?” Jin Guangyao asked. “Sect business –”

“I need someone to watch over him,” Nie Huaisang interrupted, wiping his eyes. “Someone who knows him well. He’s not…his reactions are all wrong. He goes into these dazes sometimes, doesn’t respond, and even when he seems present, he’s flinching at things that aren’t there or being nice and I just…I really can’t tell how much he’s really here or how much of it is reacting on, I don’t know, some sort of childhood instinct. So it has to be someone familiar with his habits, his likes and dislikes.”

Jin Guangyao was blinking rapidly. “And – me? You want me to...I was his deputy, yes, but – surely you or someone else in the Nie sect would be more appropriate?”

“Sect Leader Nie has always respected the differences between rank,” Nie Zonghui volunteered, voice low. “It would hurt his pride to be seen in such an undignified state by someone who wasn’t family.”

The blinking stopped, Jin Guangyao’s rapid thinking abruptly (and visibly) hitting a wall. “I’m – I’m not family.”

“You’re his sworn brother, aren’t you? That’s almost the same as being brothers, which makes you family,” Nie Huaisang said practically. “I’ve written to er-ge, too –”

He’d what?!

“Anyway, I know how good you are at managing things, but it wouldn’t really be appropriate for you to be involved in Nie sect business, would it? It might put you in an awkward situation, having to negotiate against your father.” Nie Huaisang gave Jin Guangyao another hug. “You just focus on taking care of da-ge, all right? I don’t want – if anyone found out, they could –”

He was going to start crying again, Nie Mingjue thought miserably, and wondered if people could die of dehydration by means of tears.

“Nothing will happen to your brother while he’s in my hands,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue even believed him. If there was one thing Jin Guangyao hated, it was being blamed for anything – even if he wanted Nie Mingjue dead, which Nie Mingjue was sure he did sometimes, he would never let it happen while he was the responsible party. Which was why it was something of a surprise that he was allowing himself to be made responsible. “It’ll be all right, Huaisang. You have to believe that.”

Nie Huaisang sniffed and finally wiped away his tears. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough,” he said ominously, and stalked out with Nie Zonghui a few steps behind, shooting Jin Guangyao an apologetic look as they left.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t tell if he agreed or disagreed with Nie Huaisang’s words.

“I hope da-ge doesn’t mind my forwardness in agreeing to help him,” Jin Guangyao said, coming closer to the bed to look down at him, his expression simpering and fake as it always was these days.

As much as that falsity annoyed him, how could Nie Mingjue mind? He knew, as Jin Guangyao did not, what his brother was afraid of; anything that could ease his brother’s mind, if only for a moment, was good.

(Why would Jin Guangyao agree to be the one responsible for him? A demon of such strength shouldn’t have been anywhere near Lanling. And this little outpost was nothing, unguarded, vulnerable; they didn’t have any defenses if Jin Guangshan decided to do something against them here, and yet Jin Guangyao willingly agreed –)

He couldn’t tell Jin Guangyao that he appreciated what he was doing and knew how hard it was, how much of a burden it was, so he reached out and caught his sleeve, tugging it lightly, and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t any more successful than when he’d tried it on Nie Huaisang – less tears, but it made Jin Guangyao frown in a way that looked actually sincere, as if Nie Mingjue had done something incorrect – so he tugged on his sleeve again, like a child, until Jin Guangyao instinctively lifted his hand to stop him. Nie Mingjue exerted himself, caught it, and drew the words for an apology on his sworn brother’s palm.

My fault, he thought at Jin Guangyao, hoping that he’d understand. I’ve troubled you.

My fault.

It was his weakness. His family’s, his father’s, his own – why should others pay for it, the way he’d paid for his father’s? All he’d ever wanted was to keep them from having to go through that type of suffering.

Jin Guangyao’s hand was trembling, he suddenly noticed, and opened eyes that had slid shut with temporary exhaustion to look at Jin Guangyao again.

His sworn brother’s face had gone ashen, his lips pressed together tightly as if something was upsetting him.

“Da-ge?” he said, strangely hesitant, but Nie Mingjue didn’t understand what he was trying to ask him and was too tired to really try. He squeezed Jin Guangyao’s hand again and released him, letting his hand fall down to the bed.

He checked once again on Baxia.

She was fine. She was right there, their bond as strong as ever.

(“Where is my saber?” his father asked, rubbing his face. “Pass Jiwei to me, A-Jue, will you?”)

He shivered.

Opened his eyes.

The room had been reorganized, he noticed, and the light was different, although not too much – had he fallen asleep? He must have.

Well, he was still healing. It was normal.

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao was still there, too. “Can you hear me now?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao said, and seemed to even mean it. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

My saber, Nie Mingjue thought, and started shivering again, the room suddenly gone terribly cold even though he was under two layers of blankets already.

Baxia was fine. She was only out of his sight because they were fixing her – it was a small thing, nothing to a normal saber, easily repaired. It was only taking so long because they would have to find a good forge and bring over a smith familiar with spiritual weapons.

Baxia was fine.

He wouldn’t ask for her. He wouldn’t.

“– leader Nie! Look at me – can you hear me? Sect Leader Nie, Meng Yao has a question for you –”

Nie Mingjue turned his head with some difficulty and blinked at Jin Guangyao, who looked relieved. He’d used his old name for some reason, maybe to get Nie Mingjue’s attention, and even that much was a bit of a surprise. Jin Guangyao hated his old name, would prefer to pretend it had never existed, and this was the first time Nie Mingjue had heard it from his lips since the ceremony in which he’d received the new one.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao murmured, seeing him. “Good – yes, da-ge. You’re back. Good. Look at me.”

Nie Mingjue tried to mouth the word ‘question’ at him, but it felt like it was impossible to communicate properly. The lack of language frustrated him immensely, even if the usual anger that was always so quick to leap to his side at the first instance of such frustration didn’t come, too buried beneath the fear.

Luckily, Jin Guangyao was quick and smart and after a few moments seemed to understand. “Oh, ah, the question? Yes. That. Ah...I wanted to know if there was something you wanted.”

My saber.

Nie Mingjue shivered.

Baxia was fine.

“I rearranged the room to your preferences –” He had, too. Even the light fell differently. “– but I’m not sure what else I can get for you that you might need or enjoy.”

Nie Mingjue considered trying to ask for correspondence again, something to do that would be useful, but quickly realized the futility of that.  Still, he didn’t really do anything else, other than work; he’d long ago given up all his old hobbies in favor of his duties, being sect leader and training himself for war and eventually war itself, and even he didn’t remember what they were anymore.

“As da-ge knows, he has always been a mystery to me,” Jin Guangyao added, a little bit of self-depreciating humor in his words. That old joke between them (had it been a joke?), about how Meng Yao would constantly be trying to figure out what Nie Mingjue liked so that he could serve him better and Nie Mingjue constantly being disinterested in every vice he tried to present him with…after everything, Nie Mingjue had started to wonder if it hadn’t been a joke at all, if Meng Yao had been truly frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t find any chink in his armor, a weakness he could exploit to hold over his head.

He was so weak now, though, and yet Jin Guangyao made the same joke.

Was there anything, really, for him to do? Jin Guangyao must be terribly bored, forced to be a babysitter for a man who couldn’t even speak to convey his wishes, and wouldn’t –

Actually, now what he thought about it, there was something.

Nie Mingjue lifted his fingers and twisted them into the hand sign they’d used during the Sunshot Campaign to mean ‘break camp’.

Jin Guangyao stared at him blankly.

He made the sign again, hoping to convey meaning. There wasn’t anything in the room he could point to, and he’d never been especially talented at pantomime, yet surely Jin Guangyao with his quick mind would be able to puzzle it out – every time he made that sign, they would stop moving, set up the tents, and the first thing he’d want, every time it was possible, was –

“A bath?” Jin Guangyao asked, and Nie Mingjue nodded in relief. “I’ll order one set up right away. Anything else?”

Nie Mingjue pointed to the pile of his clothing that was now neatly folded up on a nearby table – and much reduced, by the look of it. Not a surprise. The always-efficient Jin Guangyao would have sent the worst pieces, the ones that had been cut off his body by the doctors, away to be retailored.

Jin Guangyao frowned at it. “You want to get dressed? No…to get ready to receive visitors?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Why? Who are you expecting?”

After some contemplation, Nie Mingjue held up two fingers.

Jin Guangyao blinked.

Sighing, Nie Mingjue pointed at himself – one finger – and at Jin Guangyao – three fingers – and then held up two again.

“…you want to get bathed and dressed before er-ge arrives?”

It was so good to have someone by his side that understood him. Losing his trust in Meng Yao’s character had always been the worst part of that entire experience, the realization that the person he’d thought was a friend had never existed but had instead been deliberately manufactured to match his tastes, but losing the help of such a competent deputy hadn’t been great, either.

“Da-ge, are you sure?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. He couldn’t let Lan Xichen see him like this – the Nie and Lan sects had always been closer allies than they’d been with the others, and they’d been friends since childhood. While not physically present, Lan Xichen had seen some glimpses of what Nie Mingjue had gone through when his father had been dying, and again right after he’d died.

He’d been the one to whom Nie Huaisang had revealed that one letter that Nie Mingjue had thought he’d burned, the one that he hadn’t actually intended on ever using, the one that laid out what he’d say if he were to say goodbye – it had only been theoretical, a way to get out frustration. He would never have been so selfish as to let the awful burden that had fallen on his shoulders fall in turn on Nie Huaisang.

But Lan Xichen hadn’t really believed him back then, when he’d explained that he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t have any plans to do anything that would make such a goodbye necessary. He’d worried himself sick over him back then.

He’d worry now.

Nie Mingjue knew Lan Xichen loved him, he did, even if sometimes recently he felt that Lan Xichen might take him a little for granted. Lan Xichen loved him, so Lan Xichen would worry about him, but Lan Xichen also expressed his worries through trying to fix things.

He didn’t want to have to deal with that right now. There was nothing that needed to be fixed – Baxia was fine, he was fine, it was just a matter of healing for him and a bit of reforging for her.

It was fine.

“Da-ge, the bath is ready.”

Nie Mingjue pulled himself back out of trying to check on his bond with Baxia again to find that it was, steaming and hot; the servants must have moved it in while he wasn’t paying attention and then departed again. He tried to pull himself up to sit, but Jin Guangyao pressed down on his shoulder with surprising strength.

“Let me help you, da-ge,” he said, and Nie Mingjue graciously didn’t call him out on how much he was clearly enjoying himself. It was nice to think that part of that enjoyment was in helping him, as opposed to merely being in a position of power, but it was so hard to tell with Jin Guangyao – he wasn’t even sure the man himself knew which it was.

Shakily, with Jin Guangyao’s assistance, he sat up, and put his feet on the ground, only to have to wait while Jin Guangyao fussed around removing the acupuncture needles that had been left behind, murmuring something about having gotten the doctors’ approval. After that was done, Jin Guangyao helped him painstakingly totter over to the bathtub – his sworn brother might have only mediocre cultivation, but he was still stronger than Nie Mingjue was now, with his qi depleted and his battered body little more than dead weight. Nie Mingjue was as dependent on him as a small child on their parent. Once there, he helped brace him against the wall, helped remove his inner robes, and finally, blissfully, helped him slide into the bathtub.

“Da-ge has so many scars,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue looked at him.

Jin Guangyao was studying him with a strange expression on his face. He hadn’t allowed him to assist him with bathing before, Nie Mingjue recalled; he had been trying to maintain a divide between personal servants and military hierarchy, and Jin Guangyao – Meng Yao, then – had been a guest disciple, not a servant. Even when there were no personal servants to be had and Jin Guangyao had offered, Nie Mingjue had refused, not wanting his deputy to feel as though he were being looked down upon.

Still, it wasn’t as though the man hadn’t seen his bare chest before – there had been times on campaign when a bath hadn’t been possible, only a quick dip in the river to wash off the blood, and Jin Guangyao had even helped stitch him up a few times when an enemy’s blade had struck true and the doctors were busy elsewhere – so Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what was drawing his interest this time.

Normally, he would have asked.

Normally, he would have gotten angry at the presumption, less because of the violation of social norms than because he was embarrassed, and when he was embarrassed he got angry. That was his temperament, the way he’d been raised, always defaulting to anger instead of other, less comfortable emotions, and he’d tried very hard to avoid passing along those habits to Nie Huaisang. He hoped one day to see Nie Huaisang teaching children of his own with new habits, different habits – for his little brother to scold him for being a bad example to the younger generation, for him to have a reason to try harder to be better.

He couldn’t ask now, and there was no point in being angry. Or embarrassed, for that matter.

Jin Guangyao’s hand came to his shoulder, and then slid down to his chest, the pressure of his fingers light and barely present. There was nothing sexual or threatening in the gesture, simply curiosity.

“So many new scars,” Jin Guangyao murmured, and Nie Mingjue looked down at his chest: raised red lines all over, old injuries scabbed over and scarred and healing. His cultivation was at such a high level that even scars eventually faded away, but many of these were too new. The marks of a knife, a sword, a whip, the remnants of blunt weapons that hit so many times that they pierced skin, even the indentation of human nails driven in deep…

The worst of it was his left side, right above his ribs, where the knife marks were precise and orderly, triangles of flesh cut like fletching; he had made a habit of not looking at himself there, yet that was where Jin Guangyao’s fingers went.

“How did this happen, da-ge?” he asked, staring, his gaze unnervingly intent. “Who tried to skin you alive?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the question. He pointed at Jin Guangyao.

“What?” Jin Guangyao asked, not understanding. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. He pointed again, this time at his side at the place he preferred not to think about, and then once again at Jin Guangyao himself.

Jin Guangyao stared back at him, blank for a moment until he understood, and then he visibly flinched. “Me?” he said, his voice rising an octave. “No, I didn’t –”

It hadn’t been him directly, no, but the person who had done it had been his student – had boasted about being trained by Wen Ruohan’s chief torturer, the inventor of all those terrible machines that they’d heard rumors of, some of which they’d brought out to show him through intimate demonstration – the sick feeling in Nie Mingjue’s stomach when he’d found Meng Yao standing above him, smiling, and realized that the person that had been spoken of was him…

It might as well have been him that did it.

“I hadn’t realized,” Jin Guangyao said. His fingers had fallen to the edge of the tub, holding on until his knuckles were white. Anger, Nie Mingjue thought with the experience of a connoisseur, but he didn’t understand why it would make Jin Guangyao angry. “They shouldn’t have touched you. They weren’t allowed –”

Nie Mingjue didn’t especially want to hear any more of Jin Guangyao’s excuses – there were always excuses, he’d found, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t forgiven him for it already, or did Jin Guangyao think that he’d sworn brotherhood for nothing? – so he closed his eyes and let himself sink down into the water until it was over his head.

It was peaceful under the water, disconnected from the rest of the world. He didn’t have to think about Jin Guangyao ordering his torture and then covering it up, or maybe even ordering them not to do it but not keeping close enough watch to prevent it; he didn’t have to think about all the people that Jin Guangyao couldn’t use, the ones that didn’t get the benefit of such an order.

He didn’t have to think about all those feet kicking his Baxia like she was a dog they wanted to put down, or Meng Yao holding her in his hands and asking him how many slaps he thought it would take until she shattered the way Jiwei had shattered, or the invitation to go night-hunting at Lanling that led him straight to a demon that knew exactly where to strike –

Baxia was fine, he reminded himself. Fine.

Hands abruptly appeared in front of his eyes, bursting into the underwater scene in a frenzy of bubbles, catching him around the shoulders and pulling him up into the air to see Jin Guangyao’s white face and hear him shouting, “Are you mad, staying under for so long?! You’re not a fish; you can’t breathe water!”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him.

“You’re no Jiang sect child of the river,” Jin Guangyao scolded. “What’s wrong with you? Do you not want to live anymore?”

(“Stop stalling and get me my saber!” his father roared, his hand lashing out too quick for Nie Mingjue to avoid, the full-force blow sending him staggering and breaking something inside of him in more ways than just the physical. “Do you not want to live anymore?”)

Nie Mingjue missed the water already.

Jin Guangyao’s fingers tightened on his shoulders. “You’re not allowed to go, da-ge,” he said. “Not when I just realized that I want to keep you around.”

Nie Mingjue shook his head, realizing that Jin Guangyao had misunderstood his silence. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, he wouldn’t do that to Nie Huaisang, but that sometimes he didn’t know if he would be able to stay.

Baxia was fine – wasn’t she?

“Just don’t move, all right?” Jin Guangyao huffed, and settled down behind him. He found some soap and began scrubbing at Nie Mingjue’s skin as if he were a piece of laundry, although he didn’t use enough pressure for it to actually hurt. The repetitive movements were soothing, lulling him to relax – especially when Jin Guangyao, grumbling something about stress, jabbed him repeatedly in certain acupoints to force his muscles to release stored-up tension – and after a little while Jin Guangyao stopped being so rough.

“Huaisang was right,” he said after a while, having shifted over to running his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair as if he were a child, carefully detangling each knot he encountered. “You really are acting far too nice. Shouldn’t you be scolding me for overstepping?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head lightly, careful not to jostle Jin Guangyao’s hand.

“No? Then something else, surely. Where’s your anger, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue looked down at his hands, his saber hand instinctively curling up to grasp a hilt that was no longer there. It looked wrong to see them like this, empty.

(“Where is my saber?” his father cried out. “My saber – my saber!”)

He wasn’t his father.

That he would die of a qi deviation, die young, years before his time – this he had accepted. But he would not die the way his father died, angry, lashing out at all the ones he loved most, not if he could do anything about it.

Maybe in the future, when he lost himself fully, he would become a resentful ghost in human flesh, a raging monster fit only for slaughtering – if his thoughts themselves had already begun to lie to him, to drip poison into his ears and into his heart, if despite everything Baxia was actually gone and he was already dead and he just hadn’t realized it yet –

For as long as he could manage, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t let himself be angry.

Did he still doubt Jin Guangyao? Yes, of course. But what good would it do to suspect him now? If he tried to accuse him, even he wouldn’t believe his own testimony.

(“- they say your father died of rage –”)

“Come on, then,” Jin Guangyao said, coaxing him like a child, and his hands as he helped him out of the bath were almost gentle. “I’ve got you some new robes. I’ll help you into them.”

Nie Mingjue caught his hand.

“Da-ge? Do you want something?”

My saber. Where is my saber?

He shook his head and let Jin Guangyao help him back to the bed. He sat heavily there and stared at his hands as Jin Guangyao wrapped him in a new set of robes – his own, he thought, but he couldn’t tell if it was the extra set he’d brought with him to Lanling or if it’d been brought from the Unclean Realm.

Was there enough time for someone to come from the Unclean Realm? They had smiths there, and forges –

Where is my saber?

He stared at himself in the mirror, Jin Guangyao lingering behind him, and closed his eyes.

Like all cultivators, especially good cultivators, Nie Mingjue had a very good understanding of his spiritual energy, the way his qi moved through his meridians and settled in his dantian. He felt it every time he cultivated. His spiritual energy was drained dry right now, but if he really pushed and strained himself, he could squeeze up a small droplet of qi and guide it through the whole cultivation sequence. He could watch it carefully, wait for it to hit the place where he connected with Baxia – where he could feel her, echoing back at him. Intact.

She was fine.

She was.

She had to be.

Nie Mingjue felt someone start to braid his hair and frowned a little: perfect memory or not, he didn’t think Jin Guangyao knew the right braids. There were very subtle nuances to the ones he wore, significant ones; copying another version of his own hairstyle might be making a grievous error. He’d been wearing war-braids almost the entire time they’d known each other, after all…

He opened his eyes.

It wasn’t Jin Guangyao behind him.

“Welcome back, da-ge,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were red around the edges, as if he’d been crying, or trying very hard to keep from doing so. “How are you feeling?”

Empty, lost, afraid – oh, Xichen, I’m so very afraid –

“Huaisang said to tell you that if you don’t stop doing whatever it is that’s keeping your qi drained, he’ll lock your spiritual energy away,” Lan Xichen said after a few moments, when it became clear that Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to respond. “And I have to say, I agree with him.”

Nie Mingjue lowered his head, feeling guilty. He shouldn’t be causing them any more worry than they already had – Nie Huaisang’s eyes were never empty of tears, and it was all his fault.

“You need your spiritual energy to recover if you want to heal,” Lan Xichen said. His hands did not falter as he made the braids – the right ones, too, a sect leader at peace who was in temporary retreat due to ill health. “And you will heal, da-ge. We’ll do everything that we can to help you.”

Nie Mingjue’s shoulders slumped. That was a familiar refrain by now, and his eyes drifted down in the mirror in front of him to look at Liebing, tucked away in Lan Xichen’s belt as always – Lan Xichen would want him to meditate while he played, no doubt. As far as Nie Mingjue knew, there was no guqin here for him to play Clarity, but there were other songs available.

“I’ve asked Wangji if he would play something calming for you, if you think it would help, but I won’t force you,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue raised his eyes to meet his in the mirror, surprised. His old friend tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “I’m not entirely up to doing it myself, I’m afraid. Liebing requires perfect control of breath, and I’m…”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them once more.

“Do you know how much I’d miss you, da-ge?” he asked, voice low. “How much emptier my life would be without knowing that you were there? And not just me – all of us.”  

Nie Mingjue didn’t know what to say.

“There’s Huaisang, of course, but you know that. Your sect, your family…even A-Yao has been unusually upset about the idea of something more happening to you, he was engaging Nie Zonghui in a conversation about the defenses in place here in the event someone tried something last I saw. Wangji dropped everything to come rushing here when I wrote to him, and – you’ll never believe this – Wei Wuxian himself followed him here, asking about your health.”

Wei Wuxian? Here, so close to Lanling? That was a terrible idea.

“He’s being careful,” Lan Xichen assured him. “He went with Wangji and Jiang Wanyin to examine the site of the night-hunt – they’re saying it’s suspicious that a demon of that power managed to end up this close to Lanling, especially undetected, with you going in without any warning and the demon targeting you in such a specific way.”

It was suspicious. Also, Jiang Wanyin was here?

“I don’t know how he found out, he just showed up here,” Lan Xichen said. “I think Nie Huaisang might have written to him? Either way, he wanted to help.”

Nie Mingjue’s brow wrinkled.

“If you’re wondering why, it’s because he respects and admires you,” Lan Xichen said. “You helped him so much during the war; he wants to repay you…everyone does. You’ve done so much for all of us.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. He really hadn’t – he’d only done what he’d need to, nothing more.

“You mean so much to all of us,” Lan Xichen murmured, finishing the braids and putting his hands on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Oh, da-ge. Please hold on for us.”

(He thought of how his father looked at the end, gurgling on his own blood, red seeping out of his eyes and ears and nose as well and looking almost relieved to be going – relieved that his endless nightmare would finally come to an end, that he could rest at last in his grave…)

Nie Mingjue nodded and ducked his head to hide the tears brimming in his own eyes.

He’d stop checking, he promised silently. Baxia was fine, he thought, or maybe she wasn’t, but he hadn’t yet lost his mind, hadn’t yet started lashing out, and all those he loved were here by his side, ready to support him and help him however they could, if they could.

He would need to have faith.

He was still afraid, terribly afraid, but – he would, he could, rely on others to help support him, when he couldn’t support himself.

They wouldn’t let his anger eat him alive, and so he couldn’t let his fear do the same.

Nie Mingjue raised his hand and covered one of Lan Xichen’s with it.

He licked his lips, swallowed.

Forcing himself to speak felt like trying to break the Lan silencing spell, but he had to do it.

“Xichen,” he croaked, voice barely audible. “…Baxia?”

Where is my saber?

Lan Xichen’s hands tightened on his shoulders.

“Repaired,” his friend promised him. “Reforged by the finest spiritual smith in Qinghe. Huaisang is on his way to bring her to you now.”

Nie Mingue smiled.

A shichen later, Nie Huaisang pressed Baxia’s hilt into his hand, expression worried, all of them worried, all of them staring at him to see what would happen as he held his saber and carefully pressed some little, tiny part of the spiritual energy he’d been saving up into her.

Baxia sang out her song, bright and clear and unblemished, full of righteousness and rage.

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and wept in relief.

She was fine.

[fakecrfan]

Do you think Basira and Daisy had a healthy relationship?

I am so glad you asked! I have had a lot of thoughts about their relationship, but had decided to shelve those thoughts because I was worried it would come off as me telling people to not ship Daisira, which is... not what I want to be doing. But you sent me an Ask and so I am compelled to answer!

My answer is: no. Their relationship is toxic in one of the most interesting ways I have seen portrayed in media.

This might be a bit confusing to hear, though. Normally when we call a relationship toxic, it means that one or both of the people involved are making each other feel bad. But Daisy and Basira seem to make each other feel... good. Basira is apparently Daisy’s last human attachment, and according to Elias in MAG 92, and “not being able to see Basira again” is one of Daisy’s biggest laments in the coffin. And on Basira’s end, Daisy seems to make Basira feel... secure. Supported.

From MAG 117:

BASIRA

But at least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her.

From MAG 178:

MARTIN

We’re here for you.

BASIRA

No. She was there for me.

So, “attachment to humanity” “support” and “security” are good things in a relationship, right? Their love for each other (whether you read it as completely platonic or not) seems genuine, and they put each other first. That should mean that their relationship is Good!

Wellllllll no. Sometimes, a relationship can feel good while also... trapping you in a harmful cycle, or stunting your growth as a person. Think: a friend who is charming and fun who you love to drink with--to the extent that, even when you’re trying to manage an alcohol addiction, you end up going into situations with them that trigger your urge to drink. Also think: a friend who keeps bringing you sugary food even after you’ve been diagnosed with serious diabetes with potential life-altering complications--because you like donuts, they used to make you so happy.

Daisy and Basira are that to each other. In particular--Basira’s attachment to Daisy draws Basira back into dangerous situations and, by extension, causes her fall deep into that “siege mentality” that shuts down Basira’s more thoughtful side. 

When Jon confronts Basira about Daisy’s crimes in MAG 178, this exchange occurs.

MARTIN

[Loudly] Enough. Enough! Someone has died! Show some respect. Or don’t you care?

BASIRA

[Incensed] Of course I fucking care!

…

[Quieter] That’s the problem.

MARTIN

I… I don’t understand.

BASIRA

I just… I don’t need him laying everything out for me like I’m some kind of idiot. I know, all right.

I don’t think Basira is making anything up here to make herself seem better. Basira already knew there was a problem with the police, before Jon confronted her. She already knew Daisy was corrupt to some extent, even if she had trouble facing it head on. And--she already cared.

That’s why she quit. She didn’t need a revelation from Jon or anyone else to open her eyes. She didn’t even need to see harm happen to an innocent bystander. Instead, she saw how the higher ups were covering up the killing of Maxwell Raynor, of all people--

BASIRA

They’ve given us a few days ‘compassionate leave’. I think they just want us out of the way while they figure out the official version of what happened.

--and she quit after that. 

So, here we already have someone who is coming into an understanding of the police as a flawed system without anyone needing to tell her. Here we have someone who is already extricating herself from that system, because she cares about her impact on other people. From this point, she could easily have gone her own way, taken time to reflect and never hurt anyone again.

So what brings her back into the whole mess in MAG 88?

BASIRA

I’m looking for Daisy.

MARTIN

Oh for – Okay, I don’t know where she is! I don’t know where anybody is! Why does everyone… okay, why does everyone think that I always know where everyone is, all the time?!

BASIRA

Alright, okay, alright, sorry. They just… well, they said at the station that this was the last place she checked in.

--Her relationship with Daisy, of course!

She wants to leave the supernatural and the police behind. She tells Jon the Institute is bad (MAG 73) but she walks back in because she’s worried about Daisy. And then she throws herself right back in the fray to stop Daisy from killing Jon. Shortly after that, Basira has to sign herself off as a hostage to Elias…

ELIAS

She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course. And she was correct, I spent some time acquiring that evidence. Or creating it. And while your superiors don’t much care about the killings, the fact there is proof… They’re not happy. And they want you brought in.

--because of Daisy’s murders, Daisy’s reckless actions giving Elias leverage. Basira throws herself in with Daisy, and it draws Basira right back into a world of violence and the paranormal that she was trying to quit. It motivates her to, once again, cover for Daisy’s errors and justify them. This takes away any chance Basira could have had to gain distance from the violence, reflect, and get some perspective. Instead, she’s thrown right back into the siege. 

Basira doesn’t even show any sign of frustration with Daisy at this. It’s not that Basira is 100% meek. We see her get frustrated with people later, express grievances, and hold people accountable later--but with Daisy she doesn’t do any of this. Instead, she immediately re-affirms that she’s on Daisy’s side.

BASIRA

Daisy, it’s… it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.

Of course, it’s not a one-way street, either. It’s not an uncomplicated “Basira good, Daisy toxic and bad” story. It’s a mutually reinforcing cycle where they are both complicit. We see that in season 4, when Daisy tries to stop feeding the hunt.

People like to rag on Basira for her actions in this season but... her actions are actually also more complicated than a simple story of “Basira sabotages Daisy’s progress.” Because Basira misses the more resolute Daisy, yes, and wishes she had a strong protector instead of another person to help... but even with that, she’s still willing to support Daisy’s progress away from the Hunt!

In MAG 133:

ARCHIVIST

You’re not happy she’s back.

BASIRA

I didn’t say that, John. I will never abandon Daisy, and… having her back is… (she sighs) But right now she’s dead weight, and I need to be able to travel light.

Basira wants someone powerful to protect her, is conflicted that she doesn’t have that but still will never abandon Daisy regardless. And, true to her word, she does support what Daisy is doing.

From MAG 140:

BASIRA

We’ve talked about it. If the Hunt takes her again, we don’t know if she’s coming back. And neither of us want that.

In MAG 146, she even praises Daisy’s path of resistance.

BASIRA

You didn’t know what you were doing.

[Daisy makes a pained sound, as if to contradict her, but stops.]

BASIRA

And since you did, you’ve spent every waking hour resisting.

So, Basira is--true to Elias’s word--being Daisy’s anchor to humanity. True to her own word, she’s having Daisy’s back, supporting her decision to quit the hunt even if it means Basira has less back up. So what changes?

MAG 155:

BASIRA

Because I’m not going to lose her.

ARCHIVIST

She goes hunting again, you might anyway.

BASIRA

And if she doesn’t, she might die.

Even at this point, Basira’s worst impulses are always about Daisy. Even when she undercuts Daisy’s progress, it’s about Daisy’s wellbeing. All she wants to do is make sure Daisy’s alive and okay, and to that end she will throw out all of her rationality and moral principles.

And then, when Daisy does finally give into the hunt, it’s for Basira.

It’s... funny to analyze and critique this behavior, because I have seen this sort of behavior in Jon/Martin fics treated as a sweet and romantic thing. You know, the “I want you to keep being a monster because I don’t want to lose you!” thing. And also the “prioritizing each other over everything else in the world” thing. Because the concept of unconditional support, of putting another person first above everything else in the world--it’s an alluring one.

But with Daisy and Basira, even though their relationship isn’t necessarily romantic, we see how harmful that mindset can be. How someone can care for you, prioritize you, make you feel like the whole world, and... the main effect of that is to stunt you, to give you so much comfort you never get out of a harmful cycle or change your behavior at all. How it can cause you to enable horrible things in the world, like police brutality. 

That is the story of Daisy and Basira’s relationship. It’s about the effects of this cycle on Basira--yes, Basira specifically and not Daisy, even though the cycle is mutually reinforcing and affects them both.

Basira appears in nearly twice as many episodes as Daisy. Because of this, Basira is the one we see discussing the relationship and what it means to her. Basira is the one we see grappling with the psychological fallout of their relationship. It’s more Basira’s story than Daisy’s--not because she’s the “victim” or that she was morally pure but because... Basira is the one who ultimately grows past this.

After episode after episode of “she needs me” and “I can’t leave her” and “I can’t let her die”--after Basira endangering herself and stunting her own growth by centering Daisy

DAISY

Partner… Come…

[MORE FOOTSTEPS]

BASIRA

Not now. Not after everything.

--Basira finally breaks free, and moves on.

[bts-weverse-trans]

201123 Weverse Magazine 'BE' Comeback Interview - Jimin

Jimin: “I’m the kind of person who likes to be loved” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.23

When he’s talking, Jimin often starts his sentence with phrases like, “I just,” “it just,” “they just …” But then he immediately goes on to open up about his feelings, always providing a sincere response.

On one V-LIVE session back in October, you wore the clothes that you had planned to wear at the airport if you were to go on tour. Jimin: I hadn’t really noticed, but I think I’ve finally come to terms with the reality of our present situation.

By “situation,” you mean how it’s difficult to meet your fans in person? Jimin: Yes. If we had to go on stage in this situation, or if we had to perform our songs, I’m not sure how we would go about accomplishing that. At the same time, It felt like something that was closed up and blocked was opened up again. There isn’t the kind of excitement we got from tour season, though, so it’s easy to feel worn out. But, just like when we’re making new songs, I try to do whatever I can.

BE feels like it’s all about taking care of your feelings and the process of moving forward. Jimin: I had the role of listening to what the members wanted to include in the album, but it’s more a record of the present than it is about our individual feelings. We talked openly about how we’re having a hard time and how we’re trying our best to get over things, and that became the album.

As the project manager for BE, how did you go about gathering and organizing all the members’ ideas? Jimin: I became the project manager because Yoongi recommended I do it, but I didn’t think I had to lead anything along, more just make sure the other members could do their work quickly and easily. Usually that meant asking about their opinions, or passing opinions back and forth with our company. So I would collect ideas, organize them, say, “These are some of the ideas we got back. What do you think?”—ask them again, if they said okay, pass it on to the company, and if they made a song, I sent that over, too.

How did you prod along the members who were taking too long with their ideas? (laughs) Jimin: I would mention them by name in our group chat, and that got them to reply. (laughs) Any time I said someone or other didn’t submit their idea yet, all the others would chime in with, “Hurry up, guys!” and then they’d give it to me.

Sounds like it’s great for one of the members to be project manager. (laughs) How did you accommodate all the different ideas? Jimin: When we first started, we sat down for about an hour and said: If you feel downtrodden, just make a song about feeling desperate; if you want to give others hope, go ahead and write a hopeful song. Let’s find the topic and work from there. And since there’s seven of us, and the album’s going to be about current events, let’s put in one skit to make seven songs; and let’s not put in any solo songs. Let’s make something that we can all work on together.

That approach must have been different from the way you worked on your other recent albums. Jimin: We never said anything like, somebody will make this song and someone else will make that song. We would just take a song and say, Who wants to do this? Who wants to do that? I became more ambitious, and wanted the other members to recognize the work I was doing. And because it was so fun working together, any time I made something, I wanted to play it for them right away. I also loved when they gave me compliments, so that added to the fun. When the songs are eventually finished, we hoped the fans would be able to pick up on all those emotions exactly as we felt them, although there are some songs that didn’t make the cut. (laughs) It was really fun.

You could say that, while it’s important to deliver songs to the fans, the process of creation itself is also important. Jimin: A little while ago, I learned something new about myself: I’m the kind of person who likes to be loved. Looking back, I realized I do what I do not just for the work itself, but to be loved by my friends, family, the group, and fans. It’s been really hard to hold onto those connections, but I felt a fullness once I was sure of that love and kept those relationships close. It was like getting something of my own.

Rather than simply being loved, is it actually a satisfaction arising from the effort involved and the deep sense of trust it builds? Jimin: I used to think more frequently about what I was getting from them than what I was doing for everyone else. Even if I don’t strictly owe our fans or group members anything in return, I feel a deep and sincere appreciation for all the things they do for me. I also saw some people for who they really are, some people who don’t really care about me. Rather than pushing those people away, I learned how to react less emotionally to them. Likewise, I was able to be more emotionally honest with people who are very considerate toward me.

It’s become difficult to express those kinds of feelings to fans these days. The only choice, really, is to talk to them through your songs. What is your message this time? Jimin: There’s a message in every album and music video we make; but you don’t have to understand the message, I just hope you enjoy listening and watching. That’s the first thing. I hope you really like the songs and videos I created while working to not become complacent, so I took great care and practiced a lot to present something perfect to you.

On that note, I think your singing and dancing are changing quite a bit. Your performances in “Black Swan” and “Dynamite” are completely different, but perhaps because of your changed body silhouette, the feel of your dance has become more consistent. As a dancer, what is it you want to express? Jimin: I just hope my emotions come across. I just want the emotions I put into my dancing, actions, and singing to be felt. So I got a lot of feedback, asked around, did some research and found that for each emotion you might express on stage, there’s a body most appropriate for the job. We all have different body types. In order to get the body that can best express my emotions at my age, I went on a strict diet, but I don’t stick to it nearly as intensely as I used to. (laughs)

If you watch your dance in “Dynamite,” your body, especially when you turn away, looks different from before. You look lighter. What effect did your new body have on your dance moves? Jimin: I look how I want to look when I’m around 58 kg, so I went on a diet and lost 5 kg. That’s when I found the look I wanted to present to everyone. I can’t be objective about myself, but there was a certain vibe that I wanted. In the past I tried really hard to be no-frills, and by focusing less on trying something new and more on avoiding mistakes, I prevented myself from advancing any further. But in “Dynamite,” I tried out expressions I’d never tried before. I wanted people to be able to tell that I was really concentrating on this when they watched the video, so for this song, I tried to be sentimental and—how should I put this—I even tried to look suave (laughs) and funny, too . I ended up focusing on painting a single picture rather than on each of the individual elements.

And what is it you wanted to show off? Jimin: We haven’t been able to put on a real show during COVID-19. I wanted to show that we didn’t waste all that time but rather have kept going through it all, that we keep working hard. But portraying “working hard” through dance would look really tiring, so I smiled and danced throughout filming “Dynamite.”

How was that possible? It couldn’t have been easy to keep the whole team motivated. Jimin: With the spread of COVID-19, it took us a while to really believe our rise to the top of the Billboard Hot 100. When we checked our phones and it said we got first place we were amazed, but it was hard to believe, although we were all crying. (laughs) But when COVID-19 first hit, we said, “Ah, it’ll pass quickly and we’ll be right back on tour.” The reason was that we had said, even if it gets tough, let’s give it our all for the next year. Give it our all and collapse.. That was the plan, but we were really disappointed. What was worse was, when I heard it would be hard to have any performances this year, my head … it sort of went blank. My mind was empty. We couldn’t just take a break either. Other people had it really hard but we could keep working. I didn’t know whether we should be happy or sad about it. There were no answers for anything. It was really tough.

How did you get over that? Jimin: If an interviewer or anyone else asked me what my goal was, I told them my goal is to perform with the members for a long time, and that is probably my biggest goal; but I was really saying that to the group: I want to be with you guys for a really long time. I think we conveyed that feeling well to one another. I seriously worried a lot that the group would get exhausted. But they’d be laughing with one another, cheering each other up. We had a lot more time to chat together, so whatever was going on, we could always talk about it over a drink at our home and work it out.

What makes you take your work so seriously? Jimin: I really want to love this job inside and out. If we just look at work as work, all we’ll be after is money, but I never once thought that our group’s dynamic, or the relationship we have with our fans, was based on that. But I think if you’re exhausted mentally and physically, the work becomes a chore, and then your relationships will inevitably suffer. That’s what I was afraid of.

The song “Dis-ease” is about how each member feels about working. How do you feel about your work? Jimin: I don’t consider my main profession, performing and singing, “going to work.”. But when I’m doing something else with the camera right in front of me,that feels like “work.” Singing and performing for our fans isn’t work—it’s something I really, really want to do.

You helped write “Dis-ease,” correct? Jimin: The bridge. I was recording with Pdogg and there was one part that didn’t have a melody, so—should I call it improv?—I was just singing something without thinking about it, and then he asked me to sing that again. So I asked if he was sure, and then he asked me to write the melody, so I ended up writing it.

Some of the other songs on BE have something like that too, but “Dis-ease” somehow feels particularly like old school Korean hip hop. Jimin: I thought so too. I thought of 20 years ago when I sang it. The majority of the song was written by j-hope, so that might just be my thinking (laughs) but I sang it when there was a question mark on who would sing the vocals. I was really doing whatever I wanted, so I sort of had to be restrained (laughs) but it was fun.

Was there any place the vocals changed while recording? There are a lot of parts on BE where you use almost a normal speaking voice. Jimin: I usually already have the big picture set in my mind when I sing, but this time it wasn’t like that. “Life Goes On,” especially—that song’s not about me, but I couldn’t help but empathize with it, so right from the beginning I performed it without having to think about how my voice should sound. I wasn’t thinking about some particular emotion of mine I wanted to express to you. I just recorded exactly the feelings I had as I sang.

There’s a song titled, “Telepathy.” When you streamed yourselves in production on YouTube, the group mentioned the idea of telepathy which made me think you were sending the song directly to your fans. If you could talk to them through telepathy, what would you say? Jimin: People have kind hearts, and I just hope they don’t let that go. You asked about telepathy, but I think we really do have a telepathic connection with our fans. It’s not crystal clear or anything, but I think if we’re sincere then they can feel it somehow. I think that’s why our fans support us and are always by our side.

And what about the other way around? What would you like to hear from your fans? Jimin: One thing I’m always curious about, about our fans, is what’s the hardest thing in their lives. What each of them is struggling with, what’s making them happy—I’m really curious to know. We face our own difficulties as well, so I always wonder if there’s someone in each of our fans’ lives to ask them if they’re doing okay. I hope things get better soon, that people can keep holding on, and that the adults will follow all the rules. Kids don’t have a lot of options right now to do the things they want to do. I imagine a lot of kids see this as something that’s being forced upon them by adults, so I hope the grown-ups will properly explain the situation to the kids so they can help each other too, to end the pandemic.

The news is saying that they’ve made a COVID-19 vaccine, so you might be able to meet your fans sooner than later. What are you going to say to them when you finally see them again? Jimin: I don’t think we’ll say anything. I think we’ll just look at each other for a very long time. And if I’m able to say anything, I’ll probably say, “You made it. Now let’s get back to having a good time.”

Trans © Weverse

[erodasghosts]

memories & misconceptions | harry styles

chapter one: right where you left me.

↳ read Thea’s version (tom holland fic) by @peeterparkr

story summary: After Harry left with unexplained reasoning, and you lost two of your friends to even greater unknown motives, there was no way of knowing how you might react when deciding to go back into that environment where it all started. Back to that reminder of your beginning with Harry, and back to the memory of a simpler childhood and a closer bond.

chapter summary: breakups happen everyday, so why should you lose it? after having a falling out with nearly all of your childhood friends, you found yourself back home, where everybody moved on. still sitting in a corner you haunt, you weren’t sure what to expect out of this reunion. might it pull you into a brighter light? or will it only leave you deeper in the shadows of your past?

warnings: none?

word count: ~12k

a/n: it’s,,, a long chapter but i hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think :)

series masterlist

prologue

masterlist

“Fuck.” You took in a deep breath, clutching your chest as it seemed to tighten. 

Your eyes flickered anxiously around the small café, waiting for Harry to walk in. What would he be wearing? Would he look a mess, hair disheveled, clothes seemingly worn? Would you be able to read a lack of sleep on his face? Would a look of dysphoria be glossed over his eyes? You actually figured that he wouldn’t seem like any of those things in the slightest, he would probably look much more kept together, and likely unbothered.

Out of the two of you, you would be the one to look a mess, surely. But maybe he would surprise you, because you managed to convince yourself that he had been broken-hearted too. Surely he had also spent hours questioning what went wrong in the relationship, wondering if it ever could’ve been saved. Surely he had regrets just as you did, though some you didn’t understand. 

Did any of it ever matter to him? It had all mattered to you, much more than you would ever admit to him. The both of you were far too prideful. How could you admit to something so disconcerting with the risk that he had never felt the same? You wouldn’t be caught wasting time on something he had never even batted an eye about.

The cafe door swung open, pulling your attention to it once more. You sank down into your chair a bit upon seeing a small red-headed woman coming in, feeling a sense of relief wash over when you had realized it wasn’t Harry. Relief? It was odd, but you had felt incredibly nervous yet desirous at the same time. You hadn’t seen him in over a month, and you had, in truth, missed him.

You had also missed the café, Nana’s café, which made you question how much you actually missed him. Your mind had been spiraling nonstop for weeks at this point, ever since Harry had called off the engagement. But you were thankful that, in some way, the café still had such a calming environment.

Of course, the engagement. The entire reason you were there to meet him. You had nearly forgotten, so caught up in the anxiousness of seeing him again. It wasn’t exactly something you wished to dwell on for too long.You would avoid it longer, for as long as you could. 

Looking around the café another time, in hopes that the calm environment could be effective for you even now, you felt a new worry washing over your mind.

You hadn’t been home in a few months, since you had moved to London with a group of friends from school a few years back. It was meant to be a monumental shift for all of you. For you, for Harry, for Tom and Andrew. But it was wrong from the start, feeling an immediate disconnection from all expectations and even the reality of how things had once been.

Dorothea, your closest friend you had known as Thea, hadn’t been able to join the rest of you, which was something you had long ago pinned to be part of the problem. And, though you would visit often and do what you could to stay in touch, it was never the same. It essentially felt like Thea had been the glue to the friend group, so when she was separated things slowly began to crumble. 

You had tried to understand where it started to go wrong for a while now, long before Harry had even left you, and long enough to have somewhat of an idea now. 

It had started with Dorothea, though she hadn’t left the group exactly, rather she had been left behind. Everyone else had gone off to London, whilst Thea had stayed behind. You remember her saying that she could never really leave, that she wasn’t truly meant to either. Thea’s parents had gotten divorced during your freshman year of secondary school, and you could tell that it had continued affecting her life, as much as she might continue to deny it.

You always saw the way she had put everyone around her above herself, it was clear to see that she wanted everyone else to be happy. That was a downfall for her, though. Always so wrapped up in pleasing the world around her that she often forgot to look out for herself. You were convinced it was why she had never gone to London. She had to stay, for her father, or to be with her soon to be husband Nicholas, or for whatever excuse seemed convenient enough. 

So, Thea never left. Which meant here you all were, back in Hawkshead for Thea’s wedding. It angered you in a way, to see her wasting so much of her time and energy on something and someone you thought she cared so little about. She was marrying Nicholas, which didn’t come as much of a surprise. They were high school sweethearts, and the town was just waiting for the day they would get married. Still, it was somewhat of a disappointment for you to see.

The second to leave had been Tom, bolting off practically the moment you had arrived in London. He had felt betrayed by Thea, despite the fact that everyone knew he had the blame placed on himself for what happened between the two of them. It was a shame, really, to see how their relationship unraveled so slowly over time. Tom had never had it in him to step forward and admit how he felt for Dorothea, and she had been just as avoidant as him. 

It was painful for you to watch, really. Being close to the both of them, you were stuck in the middle of a situation that had such a simple solution from your point of view. The situation couldn’t be helped, and you had all silently agreed that it never could’ve been for a number of reasons.

Tom, though keeping himself far from Thea, had still talked to the rest of you on occasion, remaining the closest to Harry. By now, ties with you had completely ended. It was something you saw coming, after his fight with Thea he became so angry with you, blaming you for how things turned out with her. He claimed that had you told him Thea had a crush on him, though you weren’t sure if she even had when he asked, that they would’ve ended up together and he wouldn’t have to go. He had said hurtful things to you over it, trying to push you away further. And though he was angry with you, you couldn’t help but make excuses for everything he was saying. Your friendship with him had meant too much. 

Tom and Harry stayed friends through it, though they had been friends before either of them became friends with you and Thea, and that was probably why they stayed close even now. They had a strange friendship, one you never truly understood regardless of how hard you tried to. At least they had each other still.

It was never confirmed that Tom stepping away from you started when he fought with Thea, but you and Harry always knew. He just needed one last reason to completely cut you off, and it hurt to think that he was just waiting for a reason but it seemed to be true considering he cut all ties with you entirely once you and Harry broke up. 

You didn’t really expect him to stay friends with you after your breakup with Harry, considering they had been best friends for so long, but you were curious as to how Harry described the break up to him. You wished that Harry told him the truth, though you knew it wasn’t likely since he couldn’t even tell you what it was. But you hoped, because you didn’t want Tom to see you as anymore of a villain than he already seemed to.

You thought if Tom knew the truth maybe he would side with you, anything to ease your guilt on the breakup. You and Tom were always able to understand one another in a way that the others hadn’t been able to, allowing you to become closer in some ways, so it felt like there was hope there.

There was relatability between the two of you when it came to your reserved feelings. You both just felt much more comfortable holding yourselves in, while every other person in the friend group tended to just let it all out, being much more expressive in the way they portrayed themselves to the world around them. Thea and Harry had always been the most outgoing in the group, but they both did still hide away whatever they didn’t want to be noticed by others.

Cool air brushed past your lips as you let out a deep breath, shaky hands resting on your lap. The café didn’t seem to be helping to calm your mind much. Taking another look around, your eyes stopped on the wall to your right, filled with pictures and newspaper clippings of different events that had taken place at the small café. 

You wondered if Nana had kept a particular one up, it didn’t seem likely that she would’ve still had it at this point. If anything, Thea had probably taken it down considering it was her grandmother’s café, she probably was tired of having to see it. Had Thea kept any of the pictures from before? You remembered her collection of them, holding on to every memory.

Surprisingly, you found the picture still on the wall, exactly where it had always been. It was of all of you, from years before. It was near the start of Tom and Harry’s band, Pandora’s Signs, long before they had gained any popularity outside of the small town. 

Thea was smiling brilliantly right beside Tom, who was brooding and trying his hardest not to crack a smile after Thea had just left an imprint of her lipstick on his cheek. Andrew was dying of laughter at the idiocy, a hand covering his mouth in an attempt to quiet his laughter, you could still hear it so clearly. Harry had his arm around your shoulders, slumping down to rest his head on yours with a cheesy smile as you proudly held out a tee shirt that you had designed for their new band, Pandora smiling down at a single hawkshead flower. 

That was the day you and Harry had shared your first kiss, and you had officially begun dating. You could nearly still feel the warm breeze from that day. It was such a warm memory, a gentle reminder of how things used to be. At least, for the most part it was warm. 

So much had changed, and now you had wished you could forget the memory of when you were last all together, having been more of a painful thought compared to the memory from the picture. 

Continuing with the trend of where things went wrong, after Tom, you had lost Harry, though not for some time after. Losing Harry had nearly been the least expected, and was definitely the most painful to go through. Losing all of them had all had their different categories of how they hurt, and you at least hadn’t lost Andrew, though now you had lost your closest friend, Thea.

If you were honest, you were a bit surprised that you had still been invited to Thea’s wedding. At the beginning, you were planned to be her maid of honour, but after you had your falling out with her the title had been given to Harry. The job of maid of honour could’ve gone to anyone else in the world and it would’ve stung less, but her choice of Harry seemed to tell you more than even your fight had said.

“You villainize me for not showing my emotions but it got a pass when you were incapable of showing your's to Tom?” 

Looking back on it you sometimes felt that it was a very selfish thing, but you had decided that it needed to be said. As much as a part of you would always miss Thea, there seemed to be a bigger part that refused to forgive her for what she had done. The thing that seemed to hurt most about it was that she hadn’t told you about Nana. 

You couldn’t believe that she hadn’t told you about Nana, and her reasoning for it seemed so weak. She acted as if there was never any point in telling you, saying that you wouldn’t have cared anyway. Nana was Thea’s grandmother, but she had meant the world to you as well all of your life. To hear that Nana was now sick through Andrew, who was still a very dear friend but not the same as Thea, was very upsetting for you to have to handle. 

And Thea acted as if you had done it to yourself. As if your own struggles with your emotions and ability to express them was reason enough to not tell you. How could she think you wouldn’t care about Nana? And not just Nana, but how Thea was handling Nana being sick. 

From that incident sprung more troubles with Thea. Having not told you about Nana was reason enough for you to be angry with her, but she had taken it a step further when interfering with your relationship with Harry. Had Thea never said a word to Harry, you wondered if you might still be with him now.

Blaming someone else for how things ended with Harry seemed so much easier than just accepting that he was gone, you still needed somewhere else to place your anger. It was still such a new occurrence, he had broken things off only two months before Thea’s wedding, leaving you in a hopelessness that you couldn’t begin to understand. That hopelessness only worsened in the days after he left, when you had that conversation with Thea. And after it all, Andrew had stayed by your side, the last of the friend group. 

You were glad to at least have Andrew. You had always been rather close, but you didn’t feel very deserving of him. It wasn’t unexpected that you would remain friends, but then again it had never seemed likely that you would lose everyone else either. But Andrew had stayed, and he had comforted you through losing Harry, he helped you come to terms with how things seemed to end with Thea too. But had things really even ended?

It was unbelievable, how quickly you always seemed to spiral into all of those worries. You were never sure of when it might happen, it made you feel like you had less and less control. And now, here you were practically asking for things to get increasingly worse for yourself.

Hadn’t it been bad enough to have your heart broken when Harry walked away, and now you were asking him to come back? You hadn’t a clue as to why you had asked him to, you knew it would likely end in failure. How could it not? The last time you saw him he had been so cruel. 

Because the last time you saw him, he had been rushing to pack his things, suddenly in such a hurry to get away. You recalled that he did all that he could to look anywhere but into your eyes before finally hardly even explaining why he was suddenly calling it all off. And you still remembered how desperate and exhausted he had sounded, as if he was annoyed that he even had to explain. So why would you want to walk back into that?

You bit your lip and checked the time for the sixth time, only to be disappointed that only a couple of minutes had passed since you last checked. This entire plan was insane, you had gone completely mental. See, you hadn’t typically found yourself to be so nervous, especially not when it came to being around Harry. But things had changed, they were different now. 

You hadn’t actually seen Harry much within the last months, which was becoming increasingly difficult to grow used to. It only felt as if each day was a step further from the chance of him ever returning. But at the same time, you feared the day of ever seeing him again. 

What more did you have to be afraid of? It was already over, there wasn’t much else he could say to hurt you now. And he was never one to continuously dig at people once things had begun to settle, why poke at an already gaping wound? No, he wouldn’t say anything more to hurt you, this was Harry. Harry would instead act as if nothing had happened, probably even attempt to pick up a conversation as if you had seen him just yesterday.

Which was worse, you couldn’t decide. No matter how he would act you knew that it would end in pain for yourself. But you had still been so curious about how he was doing, though Andrew had told you he wasn’t worth the energy or concern anymore. There were so many unanswered questions Harry had left you with, or questions that sprang late into your now restless nights as you replayed the breakup, trying your hardest to understand it.

You wanted to see him, you had decided that just days before. You were prepared for all of the possibilities of listlessness, because now you needed answers.

Still, when he finally came walking through the cafe door you could feel the knots in your stomach tightening. Suddenly it was becoming more and more of a reality for you, and your thoughts were now frozen rather than racing restlessly. 

As he walked in he seemed so casual, as if it was just another day for him. Your cheeks were burning, and you swore you could feel your throat going dry. 

He looked… good. Like he hadn’t been the slightest bit bothered, just as you had predicted. He looked the same as he had two months before. His usual button up shirt was lazily tucked into his pants, and you watched as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and glanced around for you.

Had he not even cared? About what he had done, about having lost you, about why he was even there? If he had, you would never know. He didn’t look as if he had lost even a single night of sleep, or like he had shed even one tear. But, appearances can be deceiving, and it was just one day of many. There was no real way of knowing how he had felt about any of it, which you knew but it was still shocking in its own way.

Harry could hold a grudge, and for far too long, but he didn’t let things get the best of him for long. But you thought this would be different, that maybe this time he’d be a bit more broken. But why would he be, he had been the one to leave you. And he had done that so coldly, almost immediately cutting himself off from you after. You didn’t understand what you had done, and you still didn’t really understand. 

You didn’t want him to be hurt, of course, not really. But the idea that he was perfectly fine stung, because what did that say about how he viewed his relationship with you? 

“Y/n,” he stepped closer, only a few feet away now.

Part of you was only regretting meeting up with him increasingly more. It seemed like a good idea to meet, an opportunity to talk again. Things had ended so abruptly, and you knew that you needed to talk to him again to have even a chance of moving on.

The last time you had spoken he left you in tears, and he had damaged your pride, though you had yet to admit such a thing. You tried to not let others see just how much it hurt you, but you weren’t nearly as good at it as Harry was.

There was a bit of anger rising in you too, thinking of the damage he had done yet he seemed to walk away without even a scratch. It hadn’t been fair. Yes, there was anger, but you mostly still felt so lost.

Harry pulled out the chair across from you, taking a seat and offering you a smile, “Hey.”

Hey? You weren’t sure how else you would prefer that he greeted you, but it felt so strange, almost cold. Yet he said it with a smile, giving off another confusing feeling. Was he happy to see you? How could he be—why would he be happy after everything that had happened?

“Hey,” you replied lamely, scolding yourself for your copied response.

You could sense the worry written all over your face, maybe that was why he offered a smile, to ease your mind. 

“How’ve you…” he licked his lips, glancing over you, “how are you?”

He had noticed the way you were wringing your hands, a habit you had often wanted to end because it so easily gave signs of your nerves. 

“I’m…” you took in a deep breath. You couldn’t say the truth, he probably wouldn’t even care anymore. “I’m fine, how’re you?”

“A’right, I suppose.”

Things had never felt so stiff between the two of you before, you weren’t sure what to say. It was as if everything you had wanted to tell him had now escaped your mind, or you had lost the nerve to say it. 

“Was there uh…” he raised his brows, “there a reason you wanted to meet?”

You had never needed a reason before, but now there was such a long list of reasons why. Him asking the question made him seem so ignorant, though. Of course you had reason, he had probably just expected you would never want to see him again though, and there was a part of you thinking you might’ve been better not seeing him again.

“Yes, I--” you sat your palms on the table, “I wanted to see you, to talk to you.” You tried to calm yourself down, at this point there was no going back. “We haven’t talked since…”

“Right,” he interrupted. 

Harry adjusted his posture, taking his sunglasses off his head and folding them. He hadn’t been ready to really hear that from you it seemed, you weren’t sure why when he had been the one to go.

That was the thing of it all. All through it, he had talked about it as if it was on you that the engagement had been called off, at least that was how you felt. He had been the one to take all of his things that night, deciding to never return. He hadn’t called, or even texted. He walked away, yet it was like he couldn’t talk about it. 

“Look, I…” you didn’t want to push him still. “You told me that it was... me, and I know you shouldn’t have had to hear that through Thea--”

His brows furrowed, “It’s not ‘cause of Thea.”

“But,” you continued, “I didn’t think-- I never wanted to leave, you know that, right? It just…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts, “it doesn’t make sense. You never really said… Can’t we--”

“Do we have to have this conversation again?” He glanced up at you.

Again? You never got to have such a conversation before, how could it happen again? It wasn’t worth arguing about that though, if you would start an argument about it you knew things would be guaranteed to spiral, you wanted the chance to actually talk.

“I just don’t understand it all.” You bowed your head, “I mean, you just… you left me.” Trying to understand, you shook your head and continued, “Was it… was it something to do with the band? Were you afraid I’d hold you back from growing? I know you’ve gotten more well known since thing’s ended.”

“It wasn’t the band,” he shook his head. 

You pushed, “Are you sure? Because if I took that job it would’ve messed with your plans for Pandora’s Signs, but I was never going to take the offer so I don’t know why Thea even told you.”

“It wasn’t just the bloody offer, y/n,” he snapped. “And that wouldn’t have been on Thea even if she had been the one to tell me,” If she had been the one to tell him? Harry’s gaze moved off to the side, trying to calm himself. “You should’ve told me yourself, but it’s more than that.”

“But I was never going to accept the job,” you repeated desperately.

“So that makes it okay that you hid it from me?” His eyes were cold, you could sense a slight anger in his words.

“No, I--” you whispered, his reply leaving you to feel less determined. “I should’ve told you.”

You should’ve, and you did regret it in some ways. You still wanted to stand by the idea that it was somehow Thea’s fault, because that felt like an easier option. You didn’t want to feel the guilt of it being on you, and you still struggled to stay mad at Harry for long before beginning to make excuses once more.

Deep down, you didn’t blame her at all. How could you be angry with someone for not realizing you’d want such a secret to be kept from the man you were meant to be marrying? And now, with what Harry had said, it seemed Thea had never been the one to expose that secret in the first place. 

“Whatever, it’s over now.” Harry seemed calmer, but much more annoyed than from the start. “I just… Even with the offer aside, I couldn’t fucking stay. It just made it more clear for me that I had to go.”

And there it was again, he couldn’t stay. That on it’s own reminded you where your previous anger was coming from, and you could feel the determination once more.

You wondered how long he had made himself stay. How long had he been unhappy in your relationship, because you had never noticed a single sign that he had been. But you figured you wouldn’t have noticed because, as Harry had graciously reminded you, you were apparently completely shut off from your emotions, so how could you pick up on anybody else’s?

“Of course, you couldn’t stay.” You repeated him, beginning to dig around in your purse.

He watched you carefully, trying to observe your sudden movement. He still seemed so detached from it, but at the same time it was completely clear that it had upset him in some way. It had always been hard to read such small details in Harry, while he did tend to express most of his emotions greatly, he would never show when something hurt him.

“I never meant to make you feel like you had to stay, like it was some…” you continued digging, “required effort of you.”

Harry was irritated, “y/n, c’mon, that’s--” 

“No.” You cut him off, ceasing your movement. “It’s what you’ve said, isn’t it? Maybe not directly, but you’ve said you couldn’t stay, right?” He seemed to be frozen, taken back by your reaction. “But you did stay, for years. And you… you had even proposed. So all I wonder is, when did it start to feel like you had to fucking stay? Hmm?”

He stayed silent, an unusual occurrence for Harry. You were coming from a fair place, he had broken your heart and was now trying to push it off like it was nothing. How could he expect you to just let it go? Maybe he hadn’t been ready to talk, and you really didn’t want to force him to, but you still deserved to be heard, he hadn’t given you that chance when he left.

You never imagined that you would just burst like that, but it felt nice in a way to be letting all of it out, even if it meant you had to hold yourself back from letting out a stream of tears in public, or even in front of Harry for that matter. 

“Whatever,” you turned to your purse again. “You don’t even want to be here, I’ll just cut it short, wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time. I’m sure you have plenty of maid of honour duties to tend to. Congrats on snatching the title, by the way.”

“You practically handed it over,” he scoffed. 

“Oh,” you laughed bitterly, “so you can comment on my issues? But you can’t be bothered to give me even the slightest bit of an explanation?”

“I have explained to you,” he leaned forward, “That I… I had to go.”

“Such a bullshit answer,” you muttered to yourself.

Tears were stinging your eyes now, a mix of emotions seemed to be placing them there. For two months you had felt so melancholic. You had spent hours, days, weeks crying. You had tried to understand it on your own, but no conclusion ever seemed to satisfy your mind. You wanted an answer from Harry, and now you weren’t even sure why you were wasting your time trying to get one.

He rubbed his chin, biting his lip, “It isn’t bullshit.”

“Isn’t it?” You looked back at him, “All you say is you had to go, and I’ve gotten that message by now. You did go, Harry. I stayed, for you, and you fucking--” you choked on your words, looking away from him for a moment in an attempt to collect your thoughts. “You left me, and now you’re just acting like I shouldn’t even be phased anymore?” You looked at him, and you could almost swear there were tears in his eyes now too. “What did you even expect from agreeing to meet with me?”

His gaze moved to the ceiling, and he took a moment to think. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, but he didn’t think something like this would occur. It was a bit odd for you to read such frustration on him in the moment. Now that you were actually seeing him upset it just felt like something you wanted to run from. 

“I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Bit too late for sorry.” You finally pulled out a small box from your purse, slamming it down on the table and sliding it over to him, “You left this.”

Harry recognized it immediately, a small velvety black box. He knew it was the ring he had proposed with, but he was never expecting to get it back, he didn’t really want it back. You had still worn the ring for a week or two after the breakup, it was hard to imagine that it was all over. After that, you had probably spent hours staring at it, it had been one of the few things he had left behind with any sentimental value. 

It was a promise, so in a way it sparked some sort of hope that he might return. But then weeks passed, and he hadn’t even called. You couldn’t hold onto that hope any more, it was growing much too tiring.

“So it’s officially ended, then?” He reached for the box, clasping both of his hands over it and sadly closing his eyes.

“You decided for the both of us that it had officially ended when you left the apartment for the last time,” you stated, pulling yourself up from your seat. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

The entire conversation had been much worse than you thought, but at the same time it was so much more freeing. You had finally been able to ask him for answers, though he still avoided it, and you had been able to express your emotions about it to him, even if it didn’t come out as you hoped. 

You had probably made yourself seem so broken, and really you were but you didn’t want to admit that to him. Harry hadn’t cared, right? Because if he had, the least he could’ve done was give you a reason. But he never did, or at least he never explained any reason.

Harry could always so easily make your blood boil. He could read everyone too well, and he always knew just what to say to get at a person. You had always viewed it as something he did in defense of himself, but what did he have to defend when he called off the engagement? Because even then, at a time where there wasn’t any need for him to so cruelly defend himself, he still had.  

And you couldn’t completely blame him for the conversation in the cafe going downhill so fast, even if he had been so frustrating through it all. He actually seemed to be upset about the situation, even if only in the slightest of ways, because even if he would do everything in his power to seem as if he was untouched by any pain you knew that it was impossible that he had walked away with no emotion towards the situation at all. 

You had been together for years, since the latter half of secondary school. Thea had always sworn that the two of you would always be together, and when it had fallen apart with him you weren’t sure why you had lashed out at her. There were bumps within your relationship too over time, sure, but there was nothing that would’ve made you think Harry was going to break up with you. It was sudden, it was random, it was unexplained.

He had proposed to you just months before breaking up, but your relationship had been going so well before. You had wondered if maybe it was the idea of commitment that possibly scared him away, but he had already committed deeply to your relationship. So maybe it was just the idea of marriage, and had it been you figured he would’ve just said that. Maybe, if it had nothing to do with him, it had been you.

He had said it was you, yet when you just came to that conclusion when talking to him he was trying to interrupt and say that it wasn’t true. It made you wonder if Harry even knew why he broke it off.

So much for finding answers. Talking with him did still seem to give you closure in some ways, because it had been nice to finally say your piece. There was more you wanted to say, though, and more you wanted to know. But you didn’t want to have to talk to him again, not really. 

And it was a time like this that only made you think back on your friendship with Thea. She probably would’ve demanded answers from him, too, had your friendship not ended. Now she was likely going to listen to Harry rant on about you, because for whatever reason they had grown closer. It didn’t feel like she deserved Harry as a friend, but at the same time did you deserve him as a partner when you had been hiding information from him?

You didn’t have Thea anymore, no, but you did have Andrew. You had told him you were planning to meet Harry, and he had advised you that it probably wasn’t a very good idea, especially not to do it the night before the wedding. But you weren’t able to work yourself up to talking to him sooner, and if you were honest you had hoped to use the wedding to avoid seeing him after. 

Andrew had always been somewhat of a shadow of the group, always there with a view of just what everyone was going through. He had known how things with Harry would go not just because you were close to him, but because he knew Harry still too. He had known it was sensitive for the both of you, and that the timing wasn’t the best choice. Andrew could’ve predicted that Harry would avoid talking about it, and that you would become defensive. And he could’ve predicted that Harry would’ve acted like it was you that ended the relationship, when he was the one to walk away. 

Andrew knew, but he wouldn’t ever rub any of it in, why waste the time to? There were times where you could see that he did want to rub something in, but only if it wasn’t harmful in any way. He didn’t see the point in hurting people any more than they already had been.

So even though he knew what was coming out of you meeting Harry, you knew that he still would listen to you go on about it, but you also knew he would challenge you. Still, you decided to go to the local pub with him to chat.

“I mean, he couldn’t stay? Some bullshit, isnt?” You questioned, turning to Andrew on your barstool, “It’s all he says, ‘I couldn’t stay’ but he never says why.”

Andrew was sidetracked, “Is he really the new maid of honour?” 

“Yes!” You groaned, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Don’t even get me going about that, can you believe that Thea replaced me with him?”

“Well… no one ever said she was replacing you, and we know Harry, he probably gave himself the title.” He swirled his whiskey glass, “Didn’t you expect Thea to give someone else the title?”

Yes, you had. But Harry? Why Harry? Like Andrew said, there was a good possibility that Harry had given himself the title, so really you shouldn’t think of it as something personal that Thea had done against you. If anything, you were more angry with Harry now for claiming the title himself.

“But,” he waved his hand, “this isn’t about Thea right now. Did he actually try to act like it was you that ended it?”

“Yes, probably to make himself feel better.”

“Make himself feel better? You had lied to him, hadn’t you? You’d think you’d need to feel better.” 

“I didn’t lie,” you quickly defended, “I just.. I didn’t tell him.”

“Ah, yes…” he nodded slowly, almost to mock your response, “you just didn’t tell him that you turned down an offer to work at the Louvre. It was the next best step in your career with art, and you stayed in London. Christ, you turned down fucking France,” he exaggerated and took a sip of his old fashioned, “to stay with Harry. And don’t get me wrong, I can understand why you did... in a way, I suppose...” he was skeptical. “But, maybe he was upset that you had stayed. You had never really given him a say in the matter, you just decided on your own.”

Harry would have every right to be upset about that, you regretted not telling him about it now. At the time, the job offer seemed to be something that you needed to keep to yourself, you didn’t want it to become this huge ordeal that would only cause a number of other problems. It was amazing, but it was so overwhelming too. 

It didn’t feel like a decision you were making for the both of you, because it was you receiving the offer. You had told yourself that it would’ve been different had you been considered taking the position from the start, but you never really had.

“I didn’t turn it down just because of Harry.” Which was true, you really hadn’t.

Andrew hummed, “Does he know that?”

“He hasn’t exactly given me the chance to explain that,” you replied bitterly. “He just walked out, you’ll recall.”

Only so much of it could be blamed on Harry, which you knew, and really you didn’t want to blame him at all. It’s much easier to point fingers and imagine that the blame only belongs to one person, when in truth you knew that it wasn’t so simple.

Andrew sat quietly, he could see that you were becoming defensive so he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t your enemy in the case, and though he had also felt you should’ve told Harry, he couldn’t help but feel empathy for you. He knew that you were never thinking of accepting the offer, which he thought was insane, so he had known that you never said anything to Harry because you didn’t want to cause an uproar.

When you had told Thea about the offer she was immediately filled with excitement, knowing what that meant to you, always so supportive of everything you did. The two of you had spent years planning out your perfect lives together, and she had known that working at the Louvre would’ve been another step closer to your perfect life. 

She had been so thrilled about the offer that you had nearly considered accepting it, but you reminded yourself what you would risk if you did. You weren’t sure what motive Thea could’ve possibly had in telling Harry about that, other than she could’ve just felt that he deserved to know what you had given up. 

“This wedding isn’t easy for any of us, you know?” Andrew was running his thumb over his lips, “Everyone seems to be worried about such vastly different things.”

It was true, none of you had seemed to be focusing on even a single same idea. More so, none of you were even really focused on the main reason you were all there, Thea’s wedding. 

“We’re all being so selfish,” you rested your head on the counter. “This is supposed to be about Thea getting married, and here I am worrying about a relationship that ended two months ago. And everyone else is worried about themselves too, d’you think anyone’s even asked Thea how she feels about all of this?” You quickly sat back up, a bit of concern washing over you, which you didn’t fully understand. “She must be so overwhelmed right now, don’t you think?”

Andrew shrugged, “I’m sure Harry’s been checking in with her. She’s been waiting to marry Nick for a while, I’d imagine she’s excited.”

“Oh, piss off,” you scoffed, “we both know she’s probably considering calling it off as we speak.”

Thea’s relationship with Nicholas had always been complicated. It was happy, but it was complicated. Most people in the town had expected them to be together forever, and those that knew Thea and Tom always thought otherwise. You had wished she chose Tom, and even Andrew, Nick’s stepbrother, had wished she chose Tom.

She could be happy with Nicholas, of course, but you had been worried about how fast that happiness would fade. Thea had put her life on a back burner for the sake of everyone around her, and that greatly included Nick. You had never liked Nick for that reason, because he was so selfish with Thea. Nicholas never meant to be selfish, and if anything Thea had become just as selfish in their relationship. It would surely be a loveless marriage, but who were you to care anymore than a stranger might now.

You never could understand what she saw in Nick or Tom. Especially Tom, he was an utter dumbass, but you knew that she cared for him. The rest of your friend group had tried to get them to say something, anything, about their feelings towards one another, but it never happened. Rather, they had been driven away from one another.

It was completely unexpected that those two would become so distant, but then again none of the current situation ever seemed to be a possibility before. But for them, Tom hadn’t spoken to Dorothea since you all had moved to London. He made himself distant from the rest of you too, due to whatever had happened between the two of them. You knew she was still going to try inviting him, probably hopeful that you could all be reunited, but you also knew that it didn’t seem likely Tom would show.

You had barely spoken to him, he did keep his distance from even you, and he would never talk about Thea, he didn’t want to dwell. All you knew about him now was that Harry had moved in with him after the two of you had split up, and you hadn’t talked to Tom sense. You hoped Tom would come, but maybe it was just because you still had hope that it all could be fixed.

Though, you really didn’t know where things went wrong with your relationship with Tom. At least with Thea and Harry you had something to grasp onto, some sort of beginning to figure it all out. But Tom really had just cut himself off. You knew things ended horribly between him and Thea, but he still never explained why that meant he had to walk away from you.

You had always shared that reliability of keeping your feelings to yourself, and it had allowed you to confide in one another over time. You missed being able to talk to Tom like before, but it was something that he had begun to spoil five years before any of this. From there, things just tumbled down between the two of you, like it was one regret after the other. 

Your eyes were focused on your glass, gently swirling it around mindlessly, “D’you think Tom will be at the wedding?” Part of you was hoping that he might be.

“Apparently he’s at least considering.” Andrew sounded surprised, pulling your attention to him.

He was looking towards the pub’s entrance, then pulling your eyes to that direction instead. “What’re you talking about?”

“Tom’s… he’s just walked in?” He pointed, “Did you know he was in town?”

Looking to the entrance you saw Tom walking in, “No, I had no idea…”

He was looking around, so casually deciding where he would sit before seeing you and Andrew already there. You could tell he had spotted you, as he seemed a bit panicked, he probably came to be alone. And after months of ignoring you in particular, you thought that the last person he would want to be around would be you.

You weren’t sure when exactly he finally decided that you were someone he would avoid, because Tom’s timing on most things seemed completely random. You could recognize that your past together was what inevitably pushed him away, but why so sudden? And it was something that you were convinced you had both moved on from, so it didn’t make much sense to be a problem any longer.

Tom must’ve decided that it hadn’t really mattered anymore, finding himself joining you and Andrew as you sulked.

“What kind of drinking are you two doing tonight?” Tom asked, taking a seat beside Andrew.

“Just here for a distraction,” Andrew smiled weakly, “what about you? Why’re you even in town?”

Tom glanced at the two of you before facing his head down, “Not sure, really.”

It still felt so strange that he was there.

You moved closer to the edge of your seat. “Did Thea still invite you?”

“I’m sure she contemplated it for months.” He looked at you, “I heard about your… falling out. I’m surprised you were invited too.”

“That’s not the same,” you scoffed, “you shattered her heart and then ignored her for years. I…”

“Blamed her for Harry leaving?”

You hadn’t expected that he would jump right back into calling you out, but then again you had done the same to him.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I’m not… I don’t want to fight with you tonight, can’t we just… drink and be glad to see one another again? All happy and whatever?”

You also hadn’t wanted to fight, though it was still very tempting. Things hadn’t ended well with Tom either, and he had given you as poor of a reason as Harry and Thea. But with Tom, you could’ve taken a better guess at why he left you.

You shouldn’t have cared anymore, why be bothered by someone who was pushing you out of their life? They clearly hadn’t wanted you. Still, your curiosity often got the best of you, and you had so many questions for Tom now, more than just ones to do with Thea too. You had once been so close with Tom, and now it was like you hadn’t known him at all. 

Then again, Tom had never been one for much consistency. Five years before, he had gone from gushing over Thea each day, to insisting that the two of you were suddenly meant to be in a timespan of maybe a week. And, as it turns out, after you gave you and Tom a shot, he was wrong about you being a perfect pair. But, you had been just as wrong about you and Harry.

Andrew cleared the silence, “So you did come for the wedding?” 

Tom sighed to himself, “I… don’t know.”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” Andrew chuckled. “But, and that’s a rather large but, if you didn’t… why are you here?”

There was silence for a few moments, which was what Tom had really come to the pub for. He hadn’t spoken to Andrew much within the past few months either, but he had somewhat missed Andrew’s ability to get him to talk so easily. They had been close once too, before you and Thea had met them or Harry. It had been Harry, Tom, and Andrew together, and you and Thea had known one another way before.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going yet,” Tom admitted. “I mean, can you believe it’s even happening?”

He already knew the answer both of you would give. No one thought that Thea would actually end up marrying Nick, at least none of you had. And he had known that you didn’t want the wedding to happen, though he recently struggled to see your indifference on the topic. Why should you waste your time worrying about them now?

“Nick…” he said in disbelief. “Of all people, she chose Dickolas?” It was a rather childish nickname Harry had thought of years ago, when you had all met Nick before Thea ever even dated him. “It’s the obvious decision isn’t it? Picking Nick allows her to have that… perfect life she always used to go on about, doesn’t it?” He spoke with venom, but he also seemed so tired. “I guess I just didn’t think she would actually choose Nick.”

“It was always Nick,” Andrew sat his glass down, “at least that’s what everyone around town is saying.”

Andrew had meant more in saying that than anything to do with just the Thea and Tom situation. He had probably known Nicholas better than the rest of you, though maybe not better than Thea now, considering they were step brothers now and had been for a handful of years. It was something he seemed to do his best to ignore, though he never fully explained why. Anyone could understand to an extent had they met Nick.

“That’s such bullshit,” Tom muttered to himself.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re saying it’s bullshit? You didn’t exactly give her any other choice when you left her-- when you left all of us.” Why defend Thea now? “I just don’t think you get much of a say when you didn’t exactly step forward.”

“Maybe I would’ve if I knew I ever had a chance,” he glanced at you before turning his gaze back to his glass. “You’re giving advice on choice making again? I don’t think any of our friend group gets to do that, maybe Andrew.”

Tom was right that you didn’t have much room to say anything about choice making, and Andrew did seem to be the only one of you that was capable of making the right decisions. Who were you to say a thing about anyone else’s choices? But it was still such bullshit that he was blaming you for him missing his chance with Thea.

“She didn’t choose him because I left,” Tom started slowly, “it was because he was a simple solution to her problem. Thea’s always had this… perfect picture of what she wants, and she’s apparently willing to give up everything she cares for to have it. And that’s all it is, a perfect picture.” He was biting his, taking a moment to think. “If you were to look through the curtains of their relationships I’m sure it’s…” he took in a sharp breath.

Andrew cut in, “We don’t get to make Thea’s choice, and we don’t get to judge them either.” 

“I’m not judging her.”

“You are.” Andrew gave Tom a knowing look.

“I’m not.” Tom placed his hands down, turning to Andrew, “I’m not judging her, I’m noting the fucking obvious. She was always willing to settle for Nick if it meant pleasing everyone else around her. You said it yourself, Andrew, the entire town has been expecting them to get married for years now, and you want to act like that hasn’t played into her decision?”

He was right again, it was very likely that it hadn’t played a huge part in Thea’s final choice. There was always a pressure on Thea’s shoulders to be perfect, given some of that pressure had been applied by no one else but herself. But it was still her decision, as much as any of you would disagree.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you scoffed lightly to yourself. “The wedding is tomorrow, and if you didn’t do anything to stop their relationship years ago you aren’t going to now.” 

It wasn’t about Tom and his falling out with Thea, but there was some part of you that couldn’t help but place some of the blame there. It was Thea’s decision.

“I shouldn’t have to stop her. She should be able to do it herself,” he was shaking his head slowly, “and she should’ve walked away from him when we all left for London.” 

Andrew seemed to be growing tired of you and Tom, “Oh yes, because London worked so well for the rest of us.” 

“It only fell apart when we no longer had Thea,” you pointed out.

Tom gestured his drink towards you, “At least one of you can understand in some way.” 

And there you were again, back to the idea that this was somehow due to Thea not going to London. That had been when it started to crumble, and you couldn’t help but feel frustrated with her at that time for refusing to follow her true dreams.

“You’re both just as bad as Nicholas.” Andrew spoke quietly, watching the liquid in his glass as it swirled.

“Don’t compare me to him,” Tom snapped.

“Then stop acting like him,” Andrew smiled plainly towards Tom. “You both used her too. You do understand that, don’t you?” 

You were puzzled, “What?” 

“Mmm,” Andrew finished his drink. “You want to act as if you’re any better than Nicholas, but how can you be? The both of you loved Thea until you finally had enough of her-- until she stopped simply following your desires. It took you what,” he looked at you, “five minutes to fall down a rabbit hole of an idea that Thea was responsible for Harry leaving? And you, Tom.” He sounded so determined now. “You spent your entire relationship-- which was only ever a friendship because you ruined that more than once- avoiding admitting any of your actual feelings for her, yet that’s somehow only on her? What did the two of you expect?”

What did you expect? You had never thought that you used Thea, but had you? No. You couldn’t let yourself sit on that thought for long.

As for Tom, he couldn’t as easily say that. He had shattered her heart when he told her five years before that it was you he liked, not her. And he had done it again by telling her on and on about how she was bullshit for not being her own person, right before leaving town and proceeding to block her out of his life entirely. He had directly hurt her over and over, yet still wanted to act so innocent. 

There were things you undeniably had done that hurt her too, you weren’t going to pretend that you were perfect. Things that you thought were resolved before your falling out, unlike Thomas who was still refusing to even see Thea.

“Whatever,” Tom murmured, standing up to leave, “I didn’t come here to be given a lecture.”

“Then why did you come?” Andrew asked again, truly curious but at the same time only wanting  to be bitter.

Tom scoffed, “You seem to have all the answers, you tell me.” He began to walk away but quickly turned back, pointing a finger at Andrew, “You don’t get to act like you’re any better than the rest of us. I know how you feel about this wedding, and I know you’re just having a go at me because of whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be taking it so personally then?” Andrew lazily glanced at him, no longer wanting to bother.

You could tell Tom was biting his tongue, and he had decided to just leave after that. It wasn’t how you expected the night to go, especially considering you hadn’t even imagined you would be seeing Tom. It was curious that Andrew was now getting so defensive about the situation, it made you question if he really was going through something of his own like Tom had said.

It stung that your first interaction with Tom in months had turned out to be so sour. For whatever reason, you had such hopes that when the friend group was reunited again it would be much more pleasant, now here you were with Tom walking out, having returned the ring to Harry, avoiding Thea, and not knowing where you stood with Andrew at the moment. 

What was there to say now? You weren’t sure how to feel about the things Andrew had said, because maybe they were true. You didn’t want to fight him anymore, you were much too tired and it didn’t seem to have any purpose to continue fighting. 

Why had you come for the wedding? You hadn’t even seen Thea and the wedding was now less than a day away. You had told yourself that you couldn’t miss it though, because something about not attending felt worse than just going. You were still angry at her, and the blame for Harry was still very much being put on her shoulders.

That wasn’t on your mind when you had decided to go, though. When you told yourself you were going it was somewhat out of hope that you could make up with Thea, as much as you would deny it. You had known one another since birth, it was hard to imagine you wouldn’t be at her wedding even as angry as you were.

When you had decided to go you had a certain memory with Thea on your mind, one from your childhood. You thought of the fake weddings you used to throw in your back yards, nearly every time you got ring pops. The two of you would pick some flowers, adding in dandelions for good measure, and scatter them around the yard for decoration. Thea was always sure to dress her part, no matter the part. For whatever reason, you couldn’t stop picturing it. 

It didn’t seem to do you any good to remember it now, as you would only remind yourself about how things had gone wrong right after. This wasn’t something as simple as a faux wedding that was only being thrown because you had gotten ring pops that day. Thea was getting married, and you had handed your ring back to Harry. Things were so different now. 

Even as you now stood in the chapel, waiting for Thea to come out, you were second guessing whether you should’ve come. You were longing for your friendship to be mended, but was that enough to make going worth it? By this point it was much too late to turn back. 

You were standing with the rest of the guests now, next to Andrew whilst Tom was nowhere to be seen, it was no surprise. You looked to Harry, who was standing where you were meant to be not long ago. He still seemed so unbothered. You almost couldn’t believe that he had taken the title of maid of honour. You had wondered if it was an idea of his or if it was Thea, either way you were convinced that it was done out of spite. 

It was a shock to hear that he took the title. It hurt as his ex, but as Thea’s friend too. To you, it seemed to be the nail in the coffin, confirming that Thea didn’t want to make amends with you. You were meant to be the maid of honour, something that you had planned together and agreed upon during one of your ring pop weddings, now here you were having not even seen the bride in months.

The doors at the end of the aisle swung open, revealing Thea waiting with her arm linked to her father’s. She looked perfect, you knew she would. She had her pearl necklace resting gently against her chest, her makeup looked freshly finished. You could still sense the anxiousness that had seemed so plain to you, though no one else had seemed to be concerned. 

There were quiet compliments of her beauty, people smiling ear to ear with excitement that the day they dreamed of was finally there. But you couldn’t feel that excitement, to you it was the day that your childhood best friend was signing her life away. You were no longer allowed to have such concern, though.

You glanced around, thinking of the ridiculousness of the whole event. The entire wedding seemed like such a waste. It made you wonder, would’ve it felt this way if you were to marry Harry? Had he not left, had Thea never told him about the job offer, would’ve it felt like an attempt to have a perfect life?

The music began, pulling your eyes back to Thea. You could see the bouquet of flowers moving, you figured she was fidgeting with them in an attempt to distract herself. Beneath her flowers you could see a blue bracelet dangling. It couldn’t be.

When you were younger you had made friendship bracelets with one another, wearing them for years to come. You weren’t sure why she would still be wearing it at this point, it must’ve been something else, anything else. Whether it was that bracelet or not, you figure it was Thea’s “something blue” from the wedding rhyme she had been repeating even months before the wedding as she worried about having everything to fit the rhyme.

Thea’s eyes were darting all around the room, looking at anyone but Dickolas you had noted. You could’ve sworn that her eyes had landed on you too, even if for the briefest of ways. Her anxiousness was more clear and confirmed to you when you saw her eyes, as if she was begging you for help, of all people.

No, you probably were just imagining things. Why would she look to for help? If anything, she probably hadn’t even meant to glance your way. And of all the things she could’ve picked for something blue, why would she go with the bracelet from a broken and lost friendship? 

She took her first step. 

So it was really happening? Thea was going to give up even more of herself to live out a perfect life. It didn’t feel right in a way to have to stand and watch her destroy her life. You had warned her, before the fight. Maybe that’s why she had told Harry about France, she was trying to get back at you for saying time and time again that you hadn’t approved of the wedding. You couldn’t just stand by, though.

Another step, though her foot seemed to be filled with lead as she struggled to continue going. Maybe Thea had been second guessing too. But what for? This was the life she had sworn she dreamed of, the life that she needed everyone else to see.

You were still upset with her, but you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t wish you could help her in the moment, even if it was in the smallest of ways. You could see that she was terrified, almost like she was wishing something would interrupt. It made you want to, to just step right into the aisle with her and run the other way. 

What a show that would be. You knew that it would make Harry angry that he hadn’t thought of it first, while Andrew would likely be disappointed in all of you. Had Tom been there too, he likely would’ve just followed along blindly, as he often did. The sentiment of the thought almost made you smile, before remembering how it had all fallen apart. 

“No.” You heard Thea whisper, now noticing that she had been frozen in place.

Everyone seemed to be confused, hardly even understanding what she had said. 

She was shaking her head now, “No.” 

As she took a step back her father tried to hold on and reassure her. “Thea? It’s okay.”

You could tell it wasn’t going to work, but you also didn’t believe that she would leave at this point even though you wished she would.

“No!” She yelled, causing everyone’s smiles to fade. “This is bullshit!” she pulled her arm away from her father.

No one could believe what they were seeing, Dorothea was about to walk away from her wedding. You had to stop yourself from smiling, a sense of pride filled you that she was really going to go. 

“Thea?” Her father questioned, trying to understand. 

There was no real point, you could see that she was no longer listening as she continued to slowly back away.

“Dorothea?” Nicholas was now calling for her.

You could feel a smile creeping back onto your face, but not in a way to make fun of Thea, you were glad that she was leaving. The entire thing was turning into more and more of a joke, though, surrounding itself with more and more drama and theatrics.

She was still looking at her father, “I can’t.” 

You had to pinch yourself to make sure it was really happening, Thea had begun sprinting back down the aisle and out the doors. Everyone was in complete shock, silence had fallen over the chapel while everyone tried to process what was happening. But how could anyone process that?

Most of the people attending had never suspected that she would have reason to run off, let alone even imagining that she would actually do it. And you, who had hoped from the beginning that she wouldn’t marry Nicholas, hadn’t expected her to run away. It was surreal.

You had wanted to follow, to make sure that she was okay as she went through whatever this was, but you weren’t sure that you had the right to anymore. As she gained more distance from the aisle, everyone began to realize what was happening. Nick had tried to follow her, her father too. Harry still seemed a bit surprised, somewhat of a smile on his lips too. 

“Should we follow her?” Andrew was concerned.

You didn’t know how to answer that, instead your smile seemed to be growing. “Maybe?”

Thea had lost her heel, along with the pearls and veil that she had ripped off in desperation to escape it all. You shouldn’t have found it funny, and really you didn’t, but it just didn’t seem real. There were people that were growing angry, at Thea but at you too for smiling.

“Maybe try not to be so happy about your best friend running from her wedding,” Nicholas’ mother, Gina, had spat at you.

Your smile remained, still growing wider at the occasion. More people had gone after her, most people now pulled away from their original positions. You had moved too, closer to the door to see where exactly she was going to be running off to.

Things just seemed to be getting worse and worse for your friend, you had recognized Tom’s car pulling in. She must’ve not known, or maybe she just hadn’t cared, because she jumped into the car and you could hear her demanding that he would drive her away. After that you could no longer hold back your laughter, it was too much of a storm.

Thea called out as the car pulled away, “Enjoy the lobster!”

You could only laugh harder at her words, while everyone else was taking the situation to be much more upsetting. People were still trying to run after, as if the car would be stopping. You wondered what drove her to finally do it, whatever it was it must’ve been something overwhelming, something to make her finally snap.

There wasn’t anything comical about it on the surface, so you couldn’t blame people for the looks you were receiving from them. The only other person that seemed to have even the faintest smile on them was Harry, who had been laughing right with you now. It was almost enough to make your laughter end, having been the only one laughing with him.

Was any of this even actually happening? You still weren’t sure. You were standing in a chapel, watching your old childhood best friend run away from her wedding and laughing along with the man you had returned an engagement ring to just the night before. Of everything that was happening, the most striking had to be that you were laughing with Harry again. Even that, simple laughter, felt like something so illicit.

Never would’ve you thought that you would end up here. Not five years ago, not two months ago, not even a day ago. You weren’t sure what to put your attention towards anymore. Did you focus on Thea? Or did you only consider yourself now? 

And it was ironic now that the memory of the ring pop weddings were what had drawn you into going to Thea’s wedding. It felt like you should’ve been running after her, that’s what you would’ve been doing had things not gone bad between the two of you. Harry should’ve been now, surely he recognized it as part of his new duties as her maid of honor. But, apparently he hadn’t.

He was approaching you, though you weren’t sure you could trust any of what you were seeing still. That had made your smile fade, it was reminding you of all the reasons you had not to be there anymore. You didn’t really belong anymore, and that was becoming more and more clear. Dicko-- Nick’s mother hadn’t wanted you there, lord knew Nicholas couldn’t care less one way or the other, and Thea probably hadn’t really wanted you there either. 

You could feel the tightening of your chest again, now you needed to escape from the chapel. Harry was stepping closer, you could tell he had recognized that you were suddenly growing much more anxious, but he had decided against pointing it out.

He decided on directing the attention back to the main event, “I can’t believe Thea took my advice…” What the hell did that mean? “I’ll start the car if you grab the cake?”

thea’s side

next chapter

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[gavillain]

Any villain (from any media) that you genuinely despise? And not in the good ol’ “love to hate em” kinda way, a villain that you truly can’t stand. An explanation would be appreciated for whatever villain or villains you choose.

Yeah, I have a few notable ones. Let's do my Top Five LEAST Favorite Villains of all time:

5. Alexander Pierce (Captain America: Winter Soldier)

Gonna be honest, I had to look up his name because I forgot it. That should tell you all you need to know. Literally the only thing about Pierce that I could tell you off the top of my head is that he filled the role that belonged to Dell Rusk (the Red Skull's alter ego). That's literally it. This guy was the most bland and forgettable villain I have ever encountered. The MCU might stumble a lot in their villains, but even still, when you have to stack up in a universe with Loki, Red Skull, Kingpin, John Garrett, Grant Ward, Thanos, Ultron, Hela, Obadiah Stane, Kilgrave, and even villains I dislike like Adridge Killian, you've got to go big or go home.

The movie sets us up for a intelligent and thought-provoking discussion of the faults of America, but then everything bad in American history just gets pinned to Hydra. It's the same type of thing people do in real life with things like the Illuminati: oh, a shadowy, faceless organization is the cause of all evil in the world. It encourages looking for boogeymen than actually work towards societal betterment, so that type of conspiracy narrative just leaves a really bad taste in my mouth. Not to mention, of course, that everything about Hydra is just a bunch of bland and boring politically correct versions of Nazis, and they've rarely ever been used effectively. This was no exception either.

4. King Stefan (Maleficent)

Pretty much the mortal wound that made Maleficent a bad movie rather than just a kind of boring one. His badness is a poison that just drags everything around him down. First of all, his acting is terrible. He looks like the part well enough, but whenever he opens his mouth with that nasal voice that showed no complex expression, it was just cringe worthy. He's also an in-universe example of the Ron the Death Eater trope, where a hero gets portrayed as a villain to make the woobie villain look better.

In the original film Stefan was a good king and loving father who seeks only to protect his daughter from a maliciously invoked curse. Here he's reduced to a one-dimensional evil king so that the woman who curses a baby to death can look heroic, and I'm just not here for that. But upon rewatching it, the biggest problem with him kind of slapped me in the face: we barely get any sense of his existence or relationship to anything. For the main antagonist driving our conflict, he's barely in the movie and most everything from his motivations to his entire history with Maleficent is exposited to us via the narration rather than shown through any scenes or interactions where he's on screen. It feels like any opportunity to get a feeling for who he is just gets glossed over.

Hell, he and Maleficent don't get to have any dialogue in the big climax. For a relationship that formed the backbone of why Maleficent turned bad and why any of this was happening, it's just... nothing. There's nothing there. Everything with him needed to go deeper if this movie was going to work, but it's cut down to the point where the movie feels like it just rushes through its entire story and he's so flimsy that it feels like things just happen rather than connecting to things.

3. Dawn Bellwether (Zootopia)

Sometimes I have deep and thoughtful gripes with character writing and commentary. Sometimes I just hate characters because they're stupid. This is the latter category. She's SO fucking annoying. She felt like one surprise twist villain too many, and it really made me groan when I saw that they were basically just doing Hans over again with her (like almost EXACTLY note for note). The other major irk I have is that she's a Disney villain, that brand I've obsessively collected for all of my life. If you're a Disney villain without grandiose evil plans, vibrant colors, or a charismatic personality, then really I have very little use for you.

Also I feel like her social commentary was VERY muddled and not at all the comprehensive look at bigotry that movie tries to portray. With all her talk of being the little guy and her heavy workplace discrimination she gets from Mayor Lionheart, it's really not a stretch to read her ultimate reveal as the villain who instigated the entire conflict as implying "Super scary SJW is the one creating real prejudice." And, yeah, I'm sick to death of that bullshit in every form. But even if we completely decouple the movie from any real life parallels, she's still way too easy of a solution to an issue built up to be highly complex by the narrative. She's a scapegoat (scapesheep?) that gets treated like the source of all of the systematic prejudices, and... just no.

2. Sauron (The Lord of the Rings)

Here's the big thing that I have to admit: there's a lot that I actually DO like about Sauron. I like the whole evil overlord trope, I like how powerful and mysterious he is, I like the stuff that's implied about him, I like the backstory scene in the prologue, and I like a lot of the aesthetic choices surrounding him.

But, as I've said many times before, he's not a character. He has no personality. He never does anything. There's absolutely no pay off to three whole movies of him being the invisible hand. And intellectually, I understand that a lot of the point of him is to be more of an idea than a character. More like a metaphor for evil or as a stand in for the devil than the actual main antagonist. And I feel like, even if they weren't going to have him show up and get involved personally, it still COULD have worked if they played it more like he was the god/patron of the actual main villain. Maybe even if they kind of toyed with the question of his existence sort of like True Blood did with Dionysus in the Maryann storyline. They don't do that, of course.

But the thing that ends up being a stake in the coffin is that there's not even really another villain who fills the physical antagonist role that Sauron is absent from. At least not in its entirety. Part of why I think Fellowship IS the strongest LotR movie is because Saruman and the Nazgul very directly full that role. They are the main villains and Sauron is their cause that they're fighting for the background. The Two Towers is all Saruman, which is fine except he doesn't do much in that movie himself either so blah, and then Return of the King gives us the Witch King to fill that role. And the Witch King is kinda blah and generic, but he has a cool design and motif... but then he gets killed by a side character and no one seems to even notice that he's gone even though there's still like an HOUR of movie left to go after he dies. Sauron's front man is gone, and there's still a lot of movie to go where Sauron should FINALLY be doing something himself but isn't. Sauron IS the final villain and the spanning villain of the franchise, but he does nothing so the entire conflict with him just kinda feels like dudes clanging swords with no oomph behind it.

Also I got cyberbullied pretty badly by LotR fans back when I was thirteen because I didn't put Sauron higher on a Top Ten Villains Video. And I'm a petty bitch who holds onto things. They ruined me for ever liking Lord of the Rings and Sauron in particular is the cornerstone of my over a decade spanning vendetta.

The High Sparrow (Game of Thrones)

Never have I ever encountered a villain who has made me more physically ill than this fucker. I can stomach a lot of horrible bad guys who do horrible things, but the High Sparrow literally made me nauseous when he was on screen. One of my personal "triggers" (for lack of a better term) is that scenario of fanatics using religion to justify murdering and torturing those who they perceive to be "sinners," which is particularly visceral for me as a gay man. Real life things like the Pulse Nightclub shooting and the former Vice President of the United States advocating for electro-shock therapy for gay people are persistent reminders that the LGBT community still isn't really safe or accepted.

I live with the burden of those worries, and this guy's treatment of Loras in particular (but also Cersei and Margaery too) caused all of that to boil up. Everything this guy did was just so unpleasant and gross and honestly it's not something that I actually want to devote my time to watching. I came very close to quitting Game of Thrones altogether over him. Yes, I know in the books, he never goes after Loras, but he still goes after Margaery and Cersei for "adultery" and the Penance Walk for Cersei still happens and that's still gross.

On top of the triggering elements, I've never really been fond of characters with no build up coming in and shattering the status quo (see my whole aversion to the "Xemnas Complex"). It's just always been a plot that frustrated me because I'm constantly sitting there knowing that in an earlier installment, X character could have ended this very quickly and the fact that the likes of Cersei or Olenna or Baelish couldn't just squish the Sparrows easily just doesn't feel right to me. These are a handful of religious fanatics against the most powerful and intelligent people in the kingdom. Common people support or no, it just doesn't make sense to me that the High Sparrow could get away with everything he did for so long.

When season six rolled around, I thought they'd kill him off in the first episode of the season at the hands of Frakenmountain, but NOPE he was there ALL SEASON LONG. His plot was such a drag throughout. King's Landing was my favorite plotline in the show and he made it unpleasant and completely devoid of plot momentum. And his ultimate motivation for all of this? He had a bad hangover once. Really? REALLY? That's fucking stupid. While Cersei may have been behind the explosion of the Sept, a development I really did like, I completely blame the High Sparrow for the deaths of Margaery, Loras, Kevan, and Mace, who all deserved so much better. They were casualties of the High Sparrow underestimating Cersei, mistakes none of them would have made if the Sparrow hadn't paraded their humiliating penance out and then stopped them from leaving. Because he was so self-assured by his gods that he was on top of the world, he cost the show four of its best characters.

GOD I HATE HIM. His death was incredibly satisfying, and he shall not be missed. Worst Game of Thrones character by far, and I'm nauseous just thinking about him.

[logically-asexual]

Hold me like you mean it

summary:

Logan’s feelings for Virgil and the fact that now Virgil barely notices him are stopping him from getting any work done. Janus offers a way for Logan to cope, by disguising himself into Anxiety. but is this really what Logan needs? and what’s in it for Janus, anyway?

alternatively, an angsty story about rejection, denial, and manipulation.

warnings: (for the whole fic) unrequited love, rejection, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dependency, dubious consent and non consent for kissing, sad ending, depression (vaguely described), angst in general, nightmares. let me know what else i should add.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

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words: 1146

before starting: if second-hand embarrassment is too painful for you, you can skip this chapter lol. i struggle with it and writing this was An Experience (but i found it hilarious so). you can check the notes at the end of the post for a quick summary of what happened.

The following day Logan began taking his plan into action. He made sure to be supportive of Virgil’s contributions, while gently reasoning against some of his wildest arguments when it was necessary. He was very careful with his words, trying not to insult the Side in any way, and to remind him subtly that he appreciated him. Logan also tried glancing at Virgil when the more enthusiastic Sides said something amusing, in hopes of Virgil smiling back and sharing an unspoken agreement with him about the others’ unnecessary outbursts. He didn’t fully succeed, for Virgil didn’t explicitly acknowledge any of his attempts. However, he seemed slightly more relaxed around Logan than the previous days, so he marked the day down as positive.

Later, Logan smiled to himself as he waited for the water on the stove to boil. He was preparing tea, as he usually did at this time, to help him start relaxing and get ready for bed. He also made sure to pour water for one extra mug, which he would take to Virgil. If everything went well, Virgil would allow him into his room and they would converse while they drank their tea, but he would be satisfied even if he only accepted it and returned to his isolation.

Now that the water was hot enough, he turned to turn the stove off and poured it into the mugs. As he did, he heard familiarly cautious steps enter the kitchen behind him. He turned around and, as expected, found Virgil standing close to the counter.

“Hello, Virgil,” he said, with a low volume. “How have you been today?”

“Hey.” he replied with a small nod. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Logan believed him, his body language conveyed calm and security. He was slouched over, as usual, but his hoodie was open, his jaw wasn’t clenched and his fingers weren’t fidgeting. Logan couldn’t be sure if this was directly caused by his thoughtful actions earlier, but he considered it to be the most likely cause. After a moment, he remembered what he was doing and told Virgil about the tea, offering him a mug, which he accepted with a smile.

They both enjoyed their drink in comfortable silence. When Logan’s cup was halfway finished, he noticed Virgil had started fidgeting again, but he didn’t mention it, allowing him to voice his concern when he was ready.

Minutes later, Virgil set his mug on the counter and spoke.

“Hey, Lo. I noticed that you’ve been um... nicer... to me than usual. Is there a- a reason in particular?”

Logan felt his heart pick up speed. Did he exaggerate on his gestures? He had thought they were subtle enough, and didn’t expect Virgil to become suspicious of him so soon. He looked around the kitchen as he hurried to find the right words for his answer. He didn’t want to overwhelm the anxious Side, but maybe the best course of action was to tell the truth. At least as much of it as he was comfortable sharing. He carefully put his own mug next to the other, avoiding eye contact with Virgil.

“I have mentioned before that I don’t mind your company. Since you’ve been isolating yourself lately I thought I could remind you of that, and demonstrate that you could reach out to me, if you wanted.”

Logan adjusted his tie nervously as Virgil studied him. “You… really care that much about me?”

“Well, yeah. I-” he interrupted himself when Virgil took a step forward.

“How much?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I hate guessing games, Logan. How much do you care?” Virgil sounded determined as he got closer and closer, cornering Logan into the counter.

“I… well, I consider you a- a friend-” He felt his face warm up as Virgil rested a hand on his cheek.

“Just a friend?” Virgil looked at him with a surprisingly shy expression in his eyes, despite how tall he was standing and how close he was leaning on him.

Logan’s words died on his tongue as their noses touched. Nervousness coulded his thinking, yet he found himself enjoying Virgil’s touch. Logan took a deep breath to calm himself, and met Virgil’s gaze, who held eye contact for a second before looking down at his lips. Virgil leaned impossibly closer, but not enough yet. Logan closed his eyes and tilted his face slightly forward, but before his mouth could meet the other’s, Virgil pulled away.

He opened his eyes and saw Virgil hunched down… laughing? It started small but gradually he stopped trying to contain it, the uncharacteristic loudness unsettling Logan even more.

“Oh, darling, you’re adorable.” He said, trying to catch his breath. “You should have seen your face!”

If Logan had felt warmth on his face earlier, now it was figuratively on fire, as he looked mortified at the other Side. His heart pounded in his chest and his thoughts raced trying to understand what was happening. Things began to make sense when Virgil’s appearance shifted, revealing Deceit behind the disguise.

“Janus?! What the hell are you doing?”

Janus’ cackling had died down to a soft chuckle after changing back, and he kept his wide grin as he replied. “What? Am I not allowed to have fun every once in a while? Everyone is so boring around here.”

Logan crossed his arms and stared at him sternly, waiting for Janus to admit his actual intentions.

“I wanted to prove a point.” He finally confessed. “Because apparently you weren’t aware of your own little crush.”

Logan faltered at Janus’ words, just now processing what he had been about to do before the shocking reveal. Was he really attracted to Virgil that way? No. This didn’t prove anything. Experiments need full control of all independent variables to draw conclusions about their effects on dependent variables, and Virgil being portrayed by another Side added too many possibilities into the situation that could have influenced Logan in unexpected ways. In addition, Logan had never been that close physically to any of the other Sides. Who knows if this faux-Virgil was the cause, or if events would have occurred similarly with any of the others. This wasn’t a valid experiment and it shouldn’t be considered as such.

“This doesn’t prove anything.” He mumbled. “Why do you care so much about this, in any case?”

“I care about you.” Janus said with a playful tone.

“Falsehood. You want something.”

“And what does it matter? You have a problem, and your idea of a solution is frankly pathetic, as if you could gain Anxiety’s trust back with passive gestures in only a few days. You need me, and I am happy to oblige.”

There was a silent pause while Logan hugged himself and avoided looking Janus in the eye. A moment later Janus told him to think about it and left, once again leaving him all alone.

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notes:

summary: logan acted on his plan and was extra kind to virgil. janus disguised as virgil and went to logan to pretend he liked him back, almost kissing him, but before logan could kiss virgil janus revealed himself and made fun of logan (hence the embarrassment). logan still refuses to believe he has a crush on virgil and janus refuses to admit his motive behind wanting to help him.

thank you for reading! <3

[thosch3i]

So here's my personal ranking of DMBJ adaptations, thanks @mejomonster for the idea :D

(but psst first if anyone seeing this post haven't seen it already, there's an interest check for a pingxie gift exchange! over here.)

1. Ultimate Note (2020)

So I wrote a long ass post about UN here, where I mainly talk about the Iron Triangle because they're the heart of DMBJ and their relationship is what makes or breaks an adaptation for me, all else equal. But thankfully UN also has good pacing, faithfulness to the original story (and honestly a smoother and less confusing way of portraying it, but thats not saying much), no exceptionally cringy added romance plot lines, female characters treated as well as they can be given they were fridged in the source material, and a cast and crew with a deep appreciation and love for the characters and story, making the most of what they could with a tiny budget and no promotion. (UN is now the most highly-rated DMBJ adaptation on douban!) The main cast is a bit green, no doubt, but the longer it goes on the better they get. (If you scroll through my #translation tag far enough you'll find stuff XYL and ZSX have said about their characters. XYL especially, really understands Zhang Qiling and I will always respect him for that, which is why he's my favorite Xiaoge.) I'm just eternally sad about the ending and that there probably won't be a S2 for the main story finale because NPSS won't sell the rights again.

2. The Lost Tomb 2 (2019)

Before UN came out, this was my favorite Iron Triangle. The Pangzi and Xiaoge friendship was also super cute here! A sorely underrated friendship, for sure. And I absolutely adore TLT2 Xiao Hua. He and UN Xiuxiu would make a great team. The entirety of the first half (undersea tomb) was remarkably true to the source material (despite being unnecessarily draggy at points), and I do like that they made the Bronze Tree arc more of an Iron Triangle thing than a Wu Xie solo mission like in the novel. But uh, the second half of this drama was just...really confusing lol with so many long shots of them trudging through snow endlessly. But it's a cute Pingxie and Iron Triangle. (Saw someone once say TLT2 is the fluffy Pingxie but UN is the angsty Pingxie, which......accurate tbh.) But...man...will TLT2.5 (Heavenly Palace) ever be released from jail ;;;;;; its supposedly already filmed (different cast) but can't air for...legal reasons? idk? ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

3. Time Raiders (2016)

A wacky movie that makes no logical sense whatsoever but God it was such a fun, wild watch lmao. Pingxie were so unnecessarily gay in this, and also TLT2 Pangzi is great as always. I liked A-Ning being a total badass as well. Movie gets a bit sad when you realize there's a deleted scene canonizing the movie as book!Wu Xie's wishful thinking and fanciful story he told because he misses his friends. In reality, Pan Zi and A-Ning are dead, his San-shu is missing, and he doesn't know if he'll see Xiaoge again (which is why TR!WX is always taking photos of him, I'd say).

4. Qinling Sacred Tree Donghua (2021)

So uh this still doesn't have official English subs (you can find it on a streaming site somewhere but I can't vouch for translation quality). But it's a pretty faithful adaptation of the Bronze Tree arc, but with a slight twist to make Xiaoge more relevant. (I'm still squinting at Liang-shiye.) Still largely a Wu Xie and Lao Yang duo mission, though. But the scenery in the donghua is gorgeous and the food looks really good too...and, like, it's a good and solid adaptation. I just wish it had been an Iron Triangle adventure 😅

5. Sha Hai (2018)

Qin Hao is an amazing Sha Hai Wu Xie. I love him, and the fact that ZSX posted a photo with him ;;;;;;;; my favorite Wu Xies ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; (fun fact: to this day, QH's Weibo pfp is of himself as Wu Xie!) But anyway. Yeah I mostly just love Wu Xie here and everything he's gone through and turned himself into now that Xiaoge is gone. There are several UN parallels because they were done by the same company (which is also why a lot of the actors are the same). Unfortunately, the whole plot was....??????? and I wasn't a fan of any of the romances, or any of the side characters in general 😅 Skipped...so much of it lol. Why did they do *gestures vaguely at the entire show* Man at least they had Three Days of Silence. Small mercies.

6. The Lost Tomb 1 (2015)

They did Pangzi so dirty, I'm sorry sweetheart. That aside, the OCs were also a big ?????? and the fact that they had the iconic Iron Triangle hotel fight so early...WITHOUT THE FULL IRON TRIANGLE????????? But TLT1 Pingxie were literally a case of love at first sight soulmates so that was sweet. Also the blood feeding. Nice 👌 This Xiaoge is probably what most of the tomb-robbing world (or very casual dmbj fans ig lmao) see when they think of Zhang Qiling: aloof, mysterious, terrifyingly strong, (and kinda 2000s emo-boy-looking for some reason???)

7. The Lost Tomb Reboot (2020)

Confusingly wild deviations from the original story, really cringy romances + fridged women, and unnecessarily dragged out plot aside, I just wasn't feeling the Iron Triangle in this one 😅 Nor was I a fan of the treatment of Xiaoge. (He was stolen from his mother as a baby and abused by the Zhang family ever since, used as a convenient bloodbag to get around tombs and he didn't even understand he was a human being with a heart who could want things until he met his mother again in Three Days of Silence, where he finally regained the "heart" given to him by his mother that the Zhang family had taken from him...and then the first thing he experienced was the loss of his mother. I think this was the only canonical instance of him crying. After that, he lived a life full of mostly loss and more trauma, being kidnapped, kept naked in a basket, and used as zombie bait when he lost his memories...and knowing all this about his past, Pangzi tells him to use his blood in a tomb, enthusiastically, without hesitation. Like...you don't tell your best friend to cut himself because you think his blood might be useful. Especially not your best friend who you know in his past has been abused just like that since birth by his blood-related "family".) I do, however, think all the actors did amazing jobs with what they were given and are very talented. The effects were also good and the music is fantastic too. I don't think I need to praise Z1L's acting because everyone knows how good he is, and he pulled off that hallucination scene where he saw Xiaoge die for him just beautifully 👌 And Xiaoge smiles! Also very cute.

So yeah that's all the adaptations I've seen! It's past 1:30am so I'm a bit rambly but 🤪🤪🤪

[jalapeno-princess]

You Weren’t Mine to Lose

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.4K

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of sex, cheating

Summary: You made the mistake of falling in love with someone who was never yours to begin with. What started off as a one night stand turned in to months of sneaking around with each other and devoting most of your time and energy to a man who was already in a relationship. However, the high you get from fooling around with Mark is the only thing that’s been keeping you from going completely insane. But what happens when lust turns to love?

A/N: Hey guys, so I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, I had to get a second job (On top of my teaching job and being a full time college student) so this means I won’t be able to write as much as I normally do (I haven’t even started on my new series just yet and I’m sorry for those who are anticipating it I have no clue when I will actually get around to writing it) but the good news is I have two stories prepared to post within the next few weeks so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you’re all doing well, especially after the news of Yugyeom signing with another company but honestly, I am so happy for him. If all seven of them end up leaving the company entirely, good for them. They deserve so much better than the shit excuse of a company JYPE is and I support each and every single member in all of their endeavors and plans for the future. With that being said, happy reading. (Based on August by Taylor Swift). 

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mineYour back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

“Fuck—go faster, please—M—Mark, I need you to go faster—sh—shit shit, just like that.” 

Mark Tuan, ever the gentleman did as he was told. However, he would do anything you asked of him during moments like this, God knows he wanted it too. His cock felt so wonderful grazing against your tight, sopping walls. His hardened tip continuously hit the back of your cervix, kissing it with each and every thrust. 

The two of you were going at it for almost an hour now; both of you reached your highs after giving each other mind blowing head—but you had yet to come together. You edged him three times, riding him until his cum reached the tip of his cock only to lift yourself off of him, earning you a scowl and the sexiest grunts of frustration. 

He left multiple slap marks on your ass; letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you have all power against him. No matter how much fun he’d have whenever you did dominate him and take over the sex session, he wasn’t letting you have all the fun tonight. There was sweat dripping down both your bodies—his entire body was warm with fervor as he continued to leave multiple hickeys along the valley of your breasts. 

His breath was hot against your neck as he tried his best to conceal his moans; it was surprising, his room had no echo whatsoever—yet, the many sinful noises falling from his mouth and yours bounced off the walls along with the sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. His thrusts were relentless as he picked up his pace; pumping in to you as if he was trying to punish you for being naughty. His pelvis ramming against your bare cheeks made a loud crack sound each time he pulled out and shoved himself back inside of you. 

It was addicting; feeling him bury himself balls deep inside of your pussy, but you were well aware that the sensation had an even bigger effect on him than it did you. Doggy style was Mark’s favorite position right next to watching you bounce up and down on him as your breasts jiggled all but gently. Something about being able to see his cock sliding so easily in to your tight walls drove the older boy fucking crazy. 

“Fuck y/n—so fucking tight as always baby. Tell me how it feels—I want to know that I’m driving you insane—“

“Feels—so good Mark—so, so good.” 

He hummed contently against the crook of your neck while picking up his pace if it was even possible. At this point, he was practically drilling himself inside of you; it came as a shock that you both still had yet to cum. On other occasions, you and Mark had no problem with reaching your highs with just your hands and mouths alone. Penetration was your favorite part of sex, so you had a feeling your body wanted to indulge in having Mark’s cock inside of your pussy for as long as you could have him for. 

“You feel so amazing y/n, I could fuck you for hours. I will never get tired of having your cunt wrapped around my dick. Please—tell me you’re close. I’m about to lose my damn mind here pretty soon.” You giggled softly against his chest; nodding in agreement while placing a few wet kisses near the sensitive spot right below his ear. 

“I’m close, so close—“

He bit softly against your collarbone, trying to hide the fact that he was seconds away from losing his will to do anything. You were just that mind blowing. Unfortunately, right as you were about to let the wave of lust consume your entire body like a wildfire, there was a new sound that filled the room. The piercing ring of a cellphone broke you out of your Mark induced haze. T

his wasn’t the first time his phone went off while the two of you were busy loving up on each other’s bodies; there were multiple situations where Mark had to cuss out his friends because they always seemed to try and get in touch with him at all the wrong times. There was even one night where he threw his phone at the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. When you felt Mark tense up at the blaring noise, you had a huge feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line. He looked up at you and released an exasperated sigh before doing the unthinkable. You wanted him to ignore it, just like he did almost every single time, but he tapped gently on your thigh; as if he was nonverbally asking for you to put your late night romp on pause. 

“Mark, are you fucking serious—“

“It’ll just be a minute, tops. I promise. No funny business, please.” 

To your dismay, he reached for his phone and answered the call. It was tempting—the idea of palming his naked sex, fondling his balls or even grinding your wet folds against his thigh—you knew you would get some kind of reaction out of him. Mark was a very sensitive person; physically and mentally. It didn’t take much for him to cry; emotionally and sexually. 

He cried in front of you more times than you could count on your fingers. Whether it was because of a sad movie, when school could get a little too much for him to handle or the time he got the news that his grandfather was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, he didn’t hesitate to pour out his feelings in front of you. You felt special knowing that you were one of the very few people who’d get to see that side of Mark; his soft, gentle, fragile side. Not the confident, overbearing and egotistical asshole he’d portray himself out to be on campus. 

During the times you would find yourself on your knees, milking him dry of his white, creamy liquid and making sure his legs would wobble by the end of the night, he’d always cry out in pleasure while begging you to do something—anything to help soothe the pleasurable soreness you caused to his lower body. You knew you’d be treading in rough waters if you did tease him in any way while he was on the phone with her, but you were coming to the point where you didn’t even care if she were to find out anymore. 

“Hello? Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

You laughed sarcastically in disbelief—what was so important that couldn’t wait a few more minutes? Something had to be wrong with Mark—who in their right mind would put a halt on fulfilling their carnal urges just to answer the damn phone? You rolled your eyes in irritation—it’s because she was the one trying to get in touch with him. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Aubrey. 

You never understood why Mark continued to fool around with you when he had a girlfriend. What started off as a one night stand at a house party one of his friends threw a little over five months ago turned in to a dangerous affair between the two of you. For the longest time, you knew nothing of the girl in question; Mark was really good at hiding her existence. 

He never told you that he was in a relationship, you didn’t see her at any party or gathering nor did you get a chance to see her around school. But that was because she was his girlfriend from back home. He only saw her during breaks or if she flew up to see him, but for most of their relationship—they were long distance. That was the only plausible reason you believed he allowed this relationship or whatever it was between the two of you to continue. 

One day, you were playing games on Mark’s phone when she sent him a message, asking him what he was doing. At first, you just assumed it was a friend of his or maybe even a classmate, but then, she told him that she missed him and told him to call her when he had the chance. You confronted him in anger; sure, you found it completely weird that he continued to see you—especially for more than just sex. The two of you couldn’t even be considered fuck buddies—no, not when you’d go to sleep wrapped tightly in his warm embrace only to wake up in the morning to his signature gummy smile and stinky morning breath. 

You’d go on cute little dates—or what you assumed were dates. He’d hold your hand and compliment you on your beauty and whatever outfit you put together that day. He’d call you if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pick you up from and drop you off to school, he’d cook you food if he noticed that you were tired and he even made a playlist of songs that reminded him of you; albeit, most of them were meant for when the two of you would stumble in to bed together, but it also contained songs that were more heartfelt and romantic. 

You had a hard time understanding why you were letting him continue to use you. You hated cheaters with a passion; you’ve seen homewreckers ruin multiple marriages within your family and the idea of someone in a relationship fooling around with another person made your skin crawl—yet here you were, fucking with another girl’s boyfriend. You went against all your beliefs and every single rule you were taught to follow just for the devastatingly handsome and sweet talking man sitting right in front of you. 

Honestly, you felt bad for his girlfriend. It was obvious that Mark meant a lot to her. She would constantly text him and send him pictures of what she’d be eating or if she went somewhere the two of them used to frequent. You felt horrible; Aubrey seemed like such a sweet girl and she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was someone else involved in Mark’s life. There were so many times you wanted to call it quits with Mark, you couldn’t keep fooling around with him considering the fact that he had someone at home who loved him—almost as much as you did. 

When you first found out that you weren’t the only one, you should have told him it was over. You should have told him that you weren’t the kind of person who was fine with committing adultery nor did you want to be the other woman—you were a firm believer in monogamous relationships but you didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he began to leave wet, sloppy kisses all along your jaw. You were in deep and you despised the fact that you were so hooked on to him. Mark was everything you could ever want in a significant other; not only was he the most attractive man you have ever laid your eyes on, but he was soft-spoken and gentle towards you. 

At school, he was a cocky prick; his group of friends were some of the most popular guys at your university. It seemed as though every student either wanted to be them, be friends with them or to be with them. But when the two of you were alone, his demeanor would take a 360 degree turn. Sometimes, you’d find it hard to believe that he had two personalities; one meant for his friends and everyone he associated himself with and another one meant for you and only you. It got you thinking though, how did he act when he was with Aubrey? 

Did he treat her the way he did you? Was he protective over her? Could she make him laugh the way you seemingly never failed to? Did he get flustered by a single smile or graze of her fingers against his arm? Was he constantly checking up on her to see how her day was going? He hardly ever talked to her when the two of you were together and seeing as how most of your free time was spent with him, you wondered when he had the chance to call her. 

There were only two instances where he answered her phone call when you were hanging out together. He always gave you an apologetic frown while taking the call and it was when you heard him tell her that he loved her that you knew, you were in love with him. It felt like a painful jab to the chest—for months, you’ve been lying to yourself. 

I don’t love him, I just love who I am when I’m with him. I love how he takes such good care of me and how he fucks me so well. 

You’d repeat those words to yourself every single time that you’d get to see him. With every kiss he’d steal from the corner of your mouth or every smile and look of adoration he’d send your way, you began to feel something deep in your chest. Whenever he’d drop you home, you always felt so empty—like a piece of you went with him back to his place. 

Mark Tuan owned your heart; there was no doubt about it. You’ve been with quite a few guys in the last three years of college but none of them could ever make you feel as over the moon or as elated the way Mark so easily did. He made you so happy; your heart rate would increase rapidly just by the mere sight of him. His laughter—his high pitched, contagious laugh always seemed to send fire through your veins. For months, you tried to accept the fact that all you would ever be to Mark was a place to put his cock while he was away from his actual significant other. 

Maybe, he was only kind, affectionate and generous towards you because it was the only way to get you to stay by his side. If it were anyone else in your shoes, they probably would have given up on him once it was revealed that he was already in a relationship. 

How did he not feel even the smallest ounce of guilt rearranging your guts; pressing you up against his balcony and fucking you in to the next week knowing that his girlfriend was waiting patiently for him to graduate so they could finally be together? And how could he not feel remorse considering the fact that he brought you in to this mess? He was selfish; that you felt wholeheartedly was true. If he cared about you or Aubrey, he would have either broken up with her as soon as the two of you found yourselves falling in to bed together the first time, or he would have never even cheated on her in the first place. How could he continue this facade? How was he fine with playing not just his girlfriend, but you too? He probably didn’t think you held any romantic feelings for him and God—if only that was the truth. 

If you had the choice, you would go back to the beginning of your arrangement and made it your mission to have never fell in love with him. You would have made yourself immune to his endless flirting, you wouldn’t let yourself kiss him other than when you would have sex, you would have made sure that what went on with you and him was strictly physical. No feelings—No emotions—nothing. It was only natural for you to have felt something for him. If you knew back then what you currently know now, you would have never allowed him in to your life—in to your heart. 

You would have never let him tear down the walls you’ve built so high in attempts to keep people out. You would have never allowed him to take up your entire mind—you wouldn’t have given him your body if he wasn’t willing to take all of you. Who were you kidding? There was no regretting Mark Tuan. Even if you were given the chance to go back to the past, you wouldn’t change a thing. Mark Tuan was your person, whether you wanted to accept it or not. He was the rightful owner of your heart, even if you didn’t own his. You couldn’t really hear what she was saying over the phone, but Mark’s brows began to furrow; as if something bad happened. 

Since he was distracted, you took this time to pull away from him—retracting his cock from your now dry folds. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you would rather die than give him a reason to inflate his ego. He’d have a field day if he found out that you were in love with him; that was the last thing you needed—the last thing he deserved. You would always come second to Audrey. He might have currently been in bed with you; his limbs tangled with yours—running his hands through your hair, tracing the outline of your features feather lightly, kissing every corner of your face, but at the end of the day, Aubrey had the rightful title of his girlfriend. Not you. Nor would it ever be you, even if they did break up one day. 

If Mark saw you as someone with more than just a casual fuck to him, then he would have solidified your relationship months ago. If he harbored any sort of feelings for you, he’d feel wrong telling another girl that he loved her.  Did he though? Did he love her? If he genuinely loved her or at least cared for her—especially because they were in a relationship together, he would never have cheated on her. 

When you love someone, you never want to put them in any kind of situation that would hurt them and you most definitely wouldn’t feel right giving yourself—your time, love, effort and energy to anyone else but that person. As soon as he saw you getting up from off the bed, he asked Aubrey to wait a minute and gave her the excuse that someone rung on his doorbell. You had to force yourself not to say or do anything that would get him in trouble with his girlfriend. 

“What are you doing? I said I’d be hanging up with her soon I’m literally about to end the call—“

“Don’t bother—I’m no longer in the mood anymore so you go finish up with her while I finish myself off.” 

You picked up your clothes from where they were thrown on the ground and headed over to the bathroom; locking the door before he could try and stop you or get you to change your mind. In the corner of your eye, you could see him attempt to follow you, but he must’ve stopped altogether once you shut the door. 

A choked up sob fell from your lips and you tried so hard to prevent any tears from falling, but it was inevitable. Why did you let this go on for so long? Mark was breaking your heart more and more as the days went on and you were the pathetic fool who continued to allow him in doing so. You were wrapped around his finger and there was nothing you could do about it. As soon as you put on all your clothes, you rinsed your face free of any tears and took a deep breath before returning outside. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment. You needed some time to think out this entire arrangement. The idea of losing Mark—no longer having him in your life, no longer being able to kiss his pretty lips, to be held in his protective embrace, to hear him whisper sweet nothings while he passionately made love to you, it broke your heart. It was as if he had somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome hold on you. He was ruining you mentally; he was holding you captive and you weren’t able to leave him—nor did you willingly want to. At this point, you were fine with Mark taking advantage of your patience. All you wanted was him; in anyway you could have him. 

Once you felt like you gave yourself enough time to breathe and recollect your thoughts, you hesitantly made your way back in to his room and you were secretly hoping he’d still be occupied with Aubrey so you didn’t have to worry about him stopping you and questioning what just happened. If this were to happen in the beginning of your affair, you wouldn’t have let it got to you and you were sure you’d continue from where the two of you left off from; but now that there were feelings involved—specifically your feelings, there was no way you could pretend that nothing was wrong. That—you were fine with being a side chick who would drop anything and everything just to be at his beck and call. You were sure you’d spill everything; knowing the kind of person you were, you would probably tell him how and when your feelings of lust turned in to love and how you respected yourself a lot more now to continue staying with someone who technically belonged to another woman. 

He might not have seen her in a long while, but he continued to act like everything was fine between them. Not once has he ever told you exactly what she meant to him—she hardly ever came up in conversation. It’s as if he never wanted to bring her up and you understood that it was because Mark was well aware that as someone who was sleeping around with him, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about his girlfriend. To your dismay, he was no longer on the phone and he was sitting at the edge of the bed—still naked and waiting for you to come out. 

Right as his gaze landed on you, he leaped up from off the bed and made a beeline toward you. He tried to reach out to you, but you shook your head—you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You were exhausted; he continued to take, take, take from you and although he was very generous in bed, he didn’t give the same amount of devotion in a romantic aspect. He didn’t fulfill your heart’s desires like he did with your lustful ones. 

“Where are you going baby—“

“Don’t. Don’t give me that baby shit Mark, you just got off the phone with your girlfriend for heaven’s sakes. I think it would be best for the both of us if I were to leave before I say or do something I will regret.”

“Wait—what are you even saying? What happened y/n? Why do you sound so upset? You knew exactly what you were signing up for as soon as we hooked up—“ 

You let out a scoff of disbelief. Was he being real right now? It was too late, you were going to let everything out tonight. If he ended up not reciprocating your feelings, then there was nothing you could do. These last six months opened your eyes to the reality that you were never going to mean as much to Mark the way he did to you. You could try anything; you could fuck him as much as both your time and energy permitted you to. You could do whatever it was he asked of you, but it would never be enough. You would never be enough. 

There was something Aubrey had that you didn’t; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it—it couldn’t have been because they have a longer history. Maybe he felt obligated to continue staying with her. Although you knew Mark like the back of your hand—you knew practically every little thing about him, there had to be some information that he left you in the dark about. Maybe their parents were friends and he just wanted to please the both of them by staying with her or maybe he genuinely liked her, but he had his desires that needed to be fulfilled and he was going to use you until they could finally be together again.

“I didn’t know anything you asshole! You kept Aubrey a secret from me for an entire fucking month. I shouldn’t have told you I was okay with continuing whatever it is that’s going on between you and I. It’s not fucking fair Mark, to her or to me. We were fucking when your girlfriend called! Does it not bother you in the least way that you’re playing the both of us? Do you not sit back and think that what you’re doing is wrong? Yes, I’m sleeping around with a man in a relationship, but you’re the one allowing it! You’re just as at fault here, so don’t try to make it seem like you’re not doing anything wrong! Admit it, you get off on some kind of high knowing that you have the ability to manipulate two different women. One who you call your girlfriend and one who you call when you need to get your dick wet. I don’t know who you think you are Mark, but I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of giving you the ability to break me—to do whatever you want with me. I let it go all these months; I know it was wrong and I feel like such a bitch for getting involved with you knowing you have a girlfriend. I made a vow to myself never to do such a thing but look Mark—I’m a fucking mistress! I can’t blame you completely because I’m still here, but I need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. With this—with you. Have a nice life, I no longer want to be apart of it.” 

You quickly grabbed your bag from his bedside table and stormed out of his room—if he were to come after you and attempt to sweet talk you in to staying; at his apartment and in his life, you would’ve gave in to him and that powerful speech you just poured your heart in to would have all been for nothing.  As much as you wanted to rid him from your thoughts entirely and say that you felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from off your shoulders, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when you realized he wasn’t chasing after you. But then again, this was what you wanted—your heart could no longer handle the fact that he didn’t care for you or love you the way you practically gave him your entire being. 

You would have done anything for the older boy—you were well aware of that and so was he; but allowing him to play with your emotions all the while leading you on was something you refused to let continue. From the time you were a little girl, you were extremely insecure about every single little feature on your body; your bushy eyebrows, your chubby cheeks, your sharp nose that you believed was too big, your crooked teeth and short neck. You also didn’t like the fact that you were only 5”2—you felt like people didn’t take you seriously because you were so tiny. However, over the course of your arrangement with Mark, you didn’t know how you did it—but you fell in love with everything you believed you hated about yourself. 

Unfortunately, you knew Mark had a lot to do with it. He praised your body on a daily basis, like it was his duty to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you were and how your body was handcrafted by Leonardo DaVinci himself. During your sexual activities; whether it was when he’d find himself with his face buried in your cunt, or if he had you pressed up against the counter, he never failed to compliment you on how soft your skin was, how insane your curves were and how he truly believed you were God’s favorite with how amazing your body was. 

Only then did it hit you—Mark only ever seemed to compliment you when his dick was deep inside of you or right after the two of you reached euphoria together. You had to accept it—you were just a fuck buddy, a play thing—someone to help him relieve stress and find pleasure through. When you reached your car, you sat in it and cried for a few moments; allowing everything to come out. 

It was hysterical; less than an hour ago, you were crying out of frustration because he kept fucking you with his fingers but refused to fill you with his length until you begged him to do so. Now, your sobs were filling up your entire vehicle all because you couldn’t let your affair to continue anymore. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand. You put so much effort in to something so pathetic all for a boy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you—a stupid, egotistical, manipulative, selfish asshole. You wanted to wait until you were completely calm and free of any more tears before you began to drive back to your apartment. 

Did all of that really just happen? What were you going to do now? There was no way you could just pretend like he was nothing to you. Six months of memories; kissing him in bathrooms that was hardly ever used at your university, singing along to Disney movies, helping each other with homework, attempting to cook meals that either of you saw on food network and ultimately failing, driving to another state on a whim just because you needed a break from life—every single beautiful moment spent with him was forever etched in to the back of your mind. 

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart; he was the reason why it would flutter and rapidly beat as much as it would sink and tear apart by the smallest mistake or argument. You continuously repeated to yourself that this was what you needed—you needed to let him go sooner or later or else he would end up breaking you completely; until you were a shell of nothing. 

Two weeks went by since that night and you could honestly say they were the worst two weeks of your entire life. You weren’t even exaggerating—you were miserable beyond belief. Mark hasn’t tried to get in contact with you at all since you stormed out of his apartment and with every swig you took of whatever alcohol beverage you drank in order to take your mind off of the man in question, you attempted to coerce yourself in believing that this is what you wanted. 

This is what was best for you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though; sure, you told him that you were done with him and you no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, but he gave up so easily. It felt like a slap in the face by reality that your biggest worries were true—he had no legitimate feelings for you; just lust. He could get anyone he wanted to take your place; you were just another useless body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find out that he told his friends about you and what the two of you have been doing for the last few months. 

His group of friends were notorious for having a group chat that they would brag about all of their hookups. You were so tempted to reach out to him and the multiple amounts of alcohol you’d consume would only make you crave his presence a lot more. Some days were better than others and by better, you didn’t cry as much and you actually would get some sleep. Why did you allow this to happen? 

Anyone who knew anything about friends with benefit relationship were well aware that it could never be just sex. Things always got messy; one person fell in love while the other didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. In this case, you were the poor unfortunate soul who got the short end of the stick—you fell in love knowing that your feelings would never be reciprocated. It was heartbreaking; the first time you ever loved someone—it just so happened to be a person that was never yours in the first place. Once you were to move on from Mark completely, you were afraid that you would never be able to love anyone else. 

This entire arrangement ruined your outlook on love permanently. You had to force yourself not to try and reach out to him—there was a point where you even hid your phone because you were afraid you’d give in and call him. He obviously didn’t care—losing you wasn’t a loss to him at all. Not if you never meant anything to him in the first place. Your friends tried to reach out to you multiple times throughout your emotional episode; it wasn’t like you drop off the face of the earth without an explanation. But nobody knew about you and Mark—nor would anyone understand what you were doing with him. 

You were still in your early twenties, but you weren’t too young to realize that having an affair was wrong. You’ve known that even when you were a little girl—if your friends or even your family were to find out the mess that you’ve gotten yourself in to, they’d be so disappointed. Every time your phone went off, you held on to a tiny string of hope that it would be Mark trying to get in contact with you. It was too much of you to hope that maybe, just maybe he came to the conclusion that he missed you, that he was nothing without you and that he accepted the thought of loving you. However, it was always your close friends trying to get you to go out with them. 

As much as you felt like you should say yes to them and allow yourself to move on by joining in on activities to keep you preoccupied, you didn’t have the strength, energy or desire to do anything at all. At the three week point, you came to accept that Mark wasn’t coming back. He was done with you, and there was nothing you could do about it. When you returned back to school, your friends were on your case—pointing out the fact that you looked like literal death. Claiming that you’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time they saw you and that your cheekbones were more prominent. 

They also stated that you looked as though you haven’t slept in days—your eye bags were dark and your eyes were puffier than usual. Like you had done with everyone else in your life; you lied and gave them the excuse that you had some kind of bug and that your doctor told you that it would be best for you to stay bedridden. Thankfully, they bought it—you didn’t need the constant reminder of why you were acting like someone died. 

“Hey, I know you don’t care about anyone from Jinyoung’s group of friends, but did you happen to see Mark’s girlfriend yet? She’s here for spring break. She’s so pretty; I don’t understand why she would want to come to a university on her vacation, but maybe she just wants to spend time with her boyfriend no matter what it is that they do. They’re so cute together.” 

Everything your best friend was telling you about Mark and Aubrey felt like a punch to the gut. Every single word twisted your heart and you began to grow lightheaded. So that’s why he didn’t come after you that night; maybe she told him she was coming to visit him. He didn’t need you anymore—he’d have someone, his someone in particular to give him his fill. He might have been cheating on her, but you didn’t think he’d be the type to sleep with two different girls at the same time—then again, it would probably raise his confidence levels in such an obnoxious way. 

If only your friend knew how much her words were taking over your mind—how much they were ruining you and slowly tearing you apart. You wanted to cry—you felt like screaming to get her to stop. She had no idea about your relationship with Mark, so it wasn’t as though she was trying to make you feel bad. Even if she did know, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt your feelings—although, she would have been upset to hear about your poor choices. 

“I—uh—no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes so—I wouldn’t know. Cool. I should get going. I’ve already missed out on so much—I’ll call you later.” 

You wasted no time briskly heading to your first class. Honestly, you didn’t even want to go anymore. Coming to school was a mistake—what was another day of missing class? You’ve been doing your work online; there was really no reason to be there other than for attendance purposes. You didn’t feel like you learned anything anyway, so there was really no point at all. You mentally cursed yourself at your negative thoughts—this was all Mark’s fault. Before him, you genuinely enjoyed school. 

Your education meant everything to you. Whenever you were assigned homework—you completed it before your next day of class. Some of your professors complimented your on your work ethic and your English professor even asked you to become their TA because you were always so on top of things. Now, you couldn’t wait for school to be over with and you didn’t even care whether or not you passed any of your classes this semester. 

Nothing mattered to you anymore and it was so disheartening that you allowed a stupid asshole to have this effect on you. To flip your world upside down and make you hate everything that used to bring you so much joy and contentment. You were busy trying to avoid people in the hallway and you couldn’t care less about whether or not you ended up bumping in to someone. Today was just not your day and if people were smart, they’d stay far away from you.  

Your phone began to ring, and when you saw that one of your other friends were trying to get in touch with you, you were debating on answering. Human interaction wasn’t something you wanted to put up with for the rest of your time on campus. Everything was all too much for you to take in. The idea of Mark—introducing Aubrey to everyone as his girlfriend, the risk of seeing them together—kissing, holding hands, hugging, acting sweet to one another, it was messing with your head. 

Heard you’re back, if you’re free right now, did you want to get some coffee?

The word no was at the tip of your tongue—you were afraid that you’d give yourself away if you showed any sort of emotion that proved you weren’t sick at all. However, you loved coffee and you were sure it would be the only kind of positivity you’d be able to have at all today so you were going to take what you could get. 

It didn’t take too long for you to reach the coffee shop—there were three spread throughout campus, so you made your way over to where your friend said to meet them. You put in your headphones and blasted your playlist of sad songs—most people would try to steer clear of melancholic music while they were going through such a difficult time but it actually brought you peace. Some weird, twisted kind of peace but nonetheless, it helped you cope with the pain that Mark’s sudden absence left on you. The smell of coffee was soon ridding you of your anxiety and you were quick to see your friend towards the back of the shop. She waved you down and you acknowledged her before getting in line to place your order. 

“Next in line.” 

You gave a soft smile to the barista and gave him your order—going with a large caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso, you were in need of caffeine in the hopes that it would give you enough energy to last through three classes. When you pulled to the side and began to scroll through Instagram, your friend sent you a playful text message about how she was glad that you went with the biggest size, you were definitely going to need it. 

“I have a grande matcha latte and a venti iced americano with almond milk for Aubrey—“ 

Your heart felt as if it was about to combust out of your chest at the sound of her name. Sure, there could have been multiple Aubrey’s on your campus. It wasn’t an uncommon name—but you knew the americano was Mark’s go to beverage. He was lactose intolerant and the first time you went to get coffee together, he told you that americanos helped him stay awake. You didn’t want to look up—you were afraid of seeing her or worse—seeing him. 

Life could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe this was your karma for fooling around with someone who was already taken. You couldn’t help it, you lifted your head up to see the girl who owned the heart of the man who owned yours and you ultimately regretted doing so. She was beautiful—there was no doubt about it. No matter how much you wanted to be bitter and say that she was ugly or that you couldn’t understand what Mark saw in her, you knew that was far from the truth. You’ve only seen a few pictures on her Instagram when you accidentally stumbled upon her account one day but her pictures didn’t do her justice at all. Her long brown hair was in big, bouncy waves.

She was wearing a red, summer dress with a pair of heels. You could feel yourself choking up at the sight of her and all her beauty and you began to mentally scold yourself for not putting any effort in to your outfit at all today. But what did it matter? At the end of the day, it was her who got to say that Mark was her person. She got to tell people with confidence that they were a couple while you had to hide behind the cafeteria or shopping malls in the fear of anyone recognizing the two of you. 

She grabbed the two drinks and made her way to a table near where your friend was sitting. Out of all the places that she could have decided to meet you, it just had to be the same place that Mark’s girlfriend was currently at all the while waiting for him. Was it too late for you to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t stay for too long? Surely she’d be able to understand right? 

There was no way you could be able to withstand being in the same room with the man that ripped your heart from out of your chest and threw it on the ground right in front of you—stepping on it like a used cigarette. That’s all you were to him—a cigarette. You were bad for him—but he was addicted to you and he used you only when it was beneficial to him. Just like the way smoking addicts would turn to cigarettes for stress relief, Mark would come to you for a way to release any pent up frustration and just like when the cigarette burns out and the high is over, you’re thrown to the ground and discarded until he needed another hit. 

“Y/n, I have your venti caramel macchiato.” 

Your hands were shaking and all the wind was knocked out of you. After politely thanking the barista, you took in a deep breath as you sauntered to the direction of your friend. You began to plan out ways to escape this unfortunate situation you found yourself in. Fate must’ve had something against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that you’d be in the same exact place at the same exact time as the both of them. This was your payback—your punishment and you were just going to have to take it like a big girl. 

“Hey y/n. I’m so happy to see you again, although, from what everyone who has seen you has told me so far, you really don’t look too good. Maybe you should have asked your doctor to give you a few more days off—“

“I’m fine, really. I can’t afford to miss out on any more school or else I won’t graduate on time. Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you, inform me on everything I missed.” 

As she began to tell you about how her life was going and how much you missed out on so many fun outings, everything she was saying went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your back was facing where Aubrey was sitting. You were sure if you were able to see her, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. Your friend continued to explain the crisis she was experiencing with one of her AP classes and you felt bad for not giving a shit at all. You tried to muster any kind of response and you could tell your “oh really?” and your “that sucks” were completely insincere, but if she noticed anything out of the ordinary—she didn’t say anything. 

You didn’t think anything of the chime of the front door, but something in your chest—probably the fact that you grew accustomed to the distinct sound of Mark’s footsteps made it known that he was now there and your suspicions were soon answered when he spoke up. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My professor held us back for five minutes. You weren’t waiting too long were you?” She giggled softly at her apology and it had to be the green monster of jealous on your back that was growing annoyed at the sound. 

“No. I just got our drinks. So how was class baby?” 

The term of endearment made your skin crawl—baby. You used to call him that; but then again, it was only when you were fucking him. Only once did you ever call him baby other than when you were having your fun together and he never really reacted to it. He must’ve been used to hearing you say it during your many hookups that it was second nature to you. You couldn’t handle staying in the coffee shop for a minute longer—you were afraid that something inside of you would get you to walked over to their table and tell her everything. 

Mark didn’t deserve to have a happy ending—not after all that he’s put you through. If you had to suffer, so did he. But you weren’t like that. You weren’t a terrible, heartless person no matter how much you wanted to be. You wanted to hurt him—break him—ruin him the way he so easily did to you. You wanted every single one of his thoughts to be filled with you and how he played you. Your mind was begging you to leave—the last thing you needed was to make a fool out of yourself and who knew? He could pretend that he had no idea what you were talking about and make you seem like the biggest idiot ever. 

“Hey, I actually planned on talking to my physics professor about missing assignments so I think I’m going to head out. Sorry about that.” The younger girl shook her head before giving your hand a comforting squeeze. 

“You’re fine! Don’t stay away from us any longer okay? We’re only young once, let’s make the most of what we still can.” 

You mirrored her expression and nonverbally agreed before picking up your books and your bag. Right as you said your goodbyes, you abruptly turned around and collided with a body. Not just any body—the body you’ve grown so familiar with in the last half a year. The body that made you feel so safe, so comforted, so happy and so serene. The body you’ve missed more than anything—Mark.

“I’m so sorry I should have looked where I was going—y/n?” 

Hearing him say your name again after almost an entire month of not seeing or hearing from him sent you through so many different emotions and you felt like you were on the verge of both throwing up and crying. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to nor did you ever want to get used to it. You just wanted to get the hell out of there. You didn’t even look up at him; your initial instinct would probably be to either punch him or to kiss him and both options would bring you so many problems. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ you attempted to walk away from him; being this close in proximity to him was suffocating. Your chest felt heavy and you were growing nauseous. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry—that night—I can explain—“

“There’s nothing for you to explain Mark. I’d watch myself if I were you. Your girlfriend is right over there. You’re not as quiet as you think you are, I don’t even know why you’re talking to me or what you feel the need to explain yourself. What we had is over. You and I are over, so there’s no need—“

“Please, we need to talk. I need to tell you something—“ 

Now would be a good time to just bring your fist up and force it against his cheek. Did he hear himself? He was gone—he stayed away for weeks. He made you feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t fight for you or your relationship—he didn’t beg you to stay nor did he try to stop you at all. Seeing him right now, you noticed that you were more angry with him than you were missing him. Did he really think that you were going to take him back with open arms as though the last three weeks of hell that you suffered through never happened at all? Did he think you were that stupid and that desperate enough to go crawling back to him with the snap of a finger? 

He knew that he had the power to get you to come running to him even if he didn’t try to stop you that night. If you were to tell him why you were so angry with the fact that she interrupted your time with him, he would have seen right through you. If Mark had any kind of common sense, he would be able to pick up on the fact that it had nothing to do about being interrupted during sex. You wanted to laugh sarcastically—his girlfriend was a mere five feet away, he was truly unbelievable. 

“Your silence that night spoke volumes for you so I think it’s best if we pretend like what we had never happened at all. You better go return back to her or else she’ll know something is up. I meant what I said when I left you, I no longer want to be apart of your life if my place—my presence isn’t as much of a priority as yours is in mine. Now, before I end up walking over there and telling her exactly who you are and who I was to you, be smart and leave it as it is.” 

You shoved passed him and walked out of the shop with so much weight off of your shoulders. Telling him off felt amazing; there was so much more you wish you could have said, but you already felt eyes on the two of you and you didn’t want to bring any more attention to the two of you. You were sure your friend must’ve saw the entire exchange go down and she would most likely have a lot of questions, but you didn’t care about anything at all—your mind was set on going back home. 

Sleep sounded so good right now and as much as running away from your problems wasn’t ideal, you deserved some rest. You didn’t even attend one class and you were in more or less words exhausted to the tenth degree. The image of him begging for you to hear him out with just his eyes alone was now imprinted in the back of your mind. Mark was never a man of words—not with you. He preferred using actions and you liked it that way. 

But now, those actions were being used against you, not for you. There was something inside of you; pleading for you to hear him out—you knew it was the part that still loved him wholeheartedly. You wanted to give up your pride—you were proud of yourself for standing your ground, but there was a hole in your heart that could only be filled by Mark himself. As you started walking towards your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and it didn’t take a genius to know who might have been texting you. 

That was who he was; Mark was insufferable. He was the type who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and if he wanted to talk to you, he was going to do anything and everything in his power to get you to listen. You contemplated taking a glance at your phone for quite some time. It was tempting; what if he decided to just confess everything since you weren’t willing to let him talk to you in person? There was really no harm in looking at his messages; you just weren’t going to respond. If you even sent a simple “back off” you were allowing him to continue sticking around in your life. By not responding at all, you’re giving him an answer. 

Getting over him completely was going to take some time, but you owed it to yourself to be released from the confines of Mark’s hold that he had on you. There were so many other men out there; men who didn’t come with baggage. Men who were both physically and theoretically available. Men who would love you—only you. Men you didn’t have to worry about their place in your life or your place in theirs. You bit your lip in anticipation; what was there left for him to say or do after you practically shunned him from your life? He might have believed he wasn’t going to give up this time without a fight; you probably did damage to his ego but your mind was set. 

You were done with Mark Tuan, for good.

Mark: I love you and I’m sorry. 11:25 A.M.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

[brellyius]

How was Hargreeves’ friendships when they were kids:

A long ass post of my ideas(probably dumb) inspired by both comic books and tv show)

starting with:

-Luther and Allison:

They were best of friends who had feelings for each other.(?)Let me dig this deeper. Luther was #1, which meant he was the unofficial leader of the Academy. His power is being super strong which is also a reason why he was the leader. Allison, is the only female with powers (SIKE) and her power was to rumor anyone, anything she wants which means she could easily get what she wanted, which probably also created an ego as a child. As being #1 and doing what you want, they could understand and relate to each other. In s1, allison says she got whatever she wanted with everything.. Do I think they have feelings for each other?? No. I think as children who grow up so close and alike, they thought they did. I think they have a special place for each other but not as “the one” and allison knows that.

-Luther and Diego:

As #1 and #2, they ALWAYS had a rival. Trying to impress daddy constantly. I think they sometimes had soft moments and both thought like “mb he’s not that bad” but ended up getting annoyed and saying “ughh i hate him” Reginald was why they never really liked each other to begin with.

-Luther and Klaus:

Klaus ANNOYED Luther. I’m sure of that. Luther was the one who’s always serious and reasonable and Klaus probably created a lot of drama. I can see Klaus making fun of Luther and Allison’s relationship. I think when Klaus did something funny, Luther always looked annoyed but he also found those funny.. Luther as a kid, loved having Klaus around but also annoyed with him. I think Luther always wanted to have fun as Klaus did. Klaus loved talking to Luther, he found Luther interesting. I think they had some really really soft moments. 🥺

-Luther and Five:

According to comic books, they’re twins. Five always thought he was better than all of them which annoyed Luther so much. Five constantly developed his power and more he developed, more he annoyed Luther. Five was also better at learning stuff like languages which also annoyed Luther. Bcz he wanted to be his dad’s fave and Five was a huge opponent. Even tho Luther saw Five as a thread, he took Five leaving hard.

-Luther and Ben:

Ok so this is a bit complicated because in comic books, they dig deeper on their relationship but not in TV show. In comic books, Luther blames himself for Ben’s death and in his moon station, he names his helper “Ben” . Ben is known as a gullible child, easily effected so Luther probably did a bad leading which lead to his death? Scary to think about. I think Ben was THAT one sibling, who everyone loved and got along. That’s why his death caused the end of the Academy. Luther loved Ben but I think he always pushed Ben? In missions, Ben was a HUGE impact, but Ben hated using his powers.

-Luther and Vanya:

Luther probably didn’t even think Vanya was a part of the family? I think he was mean towards her but as time went by, he regretted it and became closer with her. I think when Ben died, Vanya was the one who consolted Luther. Even tho she was suffering so much.

-Diego and Allison:

*eye rolls* , *grumble grumble* they DID not like each other’s company. Diego always crossed the line with everything and Allison always tried to stop him. They definitely had friction. Never got on well. After they went their seperate ways, Diego probably never seen any of Allison’s movies. Lol

-Diego and Klaus:

My fave. Diego PLAYED with Klaus. He tricked him to do dumb shit all the time. If he was bored, he went to Klaus. When he was upset, went to Klaus. They definitely messed with Luther A LOT. Klaus was his safety blanket. Klaus annoyed him a lot, but a second later, annoyed feelings were gone. He acted like BIG brother toward Klaus. Klaus also loved being around Diego.

-Diego and Five:

Their relationship was just like Luther and Five’s were. Rivalry. Hard. After five’s departure, Diego was very upset and started to question his dad. After Ben, Diego fell apart.

-Diego and Vanya:

Funfact: Diego has a thing for Vanya in comic books. Which I’m glad that it’s not portrayed like that in the TV Show. Diego was a total asshole to Vanya. No more no less. Vanya always felt for Diego tho. I think when Diego was suffering from difficulty of speaking, Vanya tried to be helpful but Diego always acted tough, he hated looking needy. He thought Vanya pitied him which annoyed him. Vanya tried to reach him but was blocked.

-Allison and Klaus:

Another fave. Loved each other so much. Always hugs, funny jokes. Allison being a BIG sister to Klaus. Klaus wanting to wear Allison’s clothes. She had a soft spot for Klaus. She knew how hard his powers were. Sometimes she wished she could help him but Klaus never let anyone know about his struggles. He always turned his traumas into fun.

-Allison and Five:

Another tough relationship. They both were strong characters. Allison was annoyed by Five bcz he thought so highly of himself. Five was annoyed bcz he could see right through her. Five knew what Allison was capable of and called her out all the time. It was tough to hear these for Allison but it did wonders for her character development. She also questioned her dad after Five’s departure.

-Allison and Ben:

Great buddies for sure. When Allison was upset, Ben was there. They loved each other. Allison felt for Ben. Ben hated his powers and Allison could see it and told Luther to stop pushing him. She was devastated after the incident.

-Allison and Vanya:

Barely talked but when they did, it was special. Allison mostly hung out with Luther in private. Sometimes she needed a female friend and went to Vanya. But after her problems were solved, she forgot about Vanya. Vanya always felt like they were gonna be closer but never became. When Five left, Allison thought it effected Vanya the most. Then Ben died and Vanya was even more traumatized. Allison could see this but didnt know what to do. She cared about Vanya more and more everyday.

-Klaus and Five:

They weren’t close at all. He definitely thought Klaus was an idiot. But I think Five discovered Klaus’ drinking at young age and knew his struggles but wasn’t around enough to help. In Hotel Oblivion, we see Five’s intervention with Klaus. I think even tho he’s %90 of the time an asshole to Klaus, he felt for Klaus. Klaus loved pissing him off tho.

-Ben and Klaus:

Partners in crime. Always tricked Ben to do something. Ben always tried to stop Klaus doing something dumb but ended up being a partner. Ben always wanted to watch out for Klaus. They both struggled with their powers. They sometimes talked about it. Ben knew about Klaus’ mausoleum incident. Ben hated Reggie. Hated how harsh he was on them. They loved each other so much, Klaus couldnt let him go.

-Klaus and Vanya:

Klaus loved Vanya and Vanya loved Klaus. Klaus was always there to cheer Vanya up. When Vanya felt left out, Klaus made a joke. It was always like that. Vanya never understood how Klaus handled his horrible power. Vanya was so worried about Klaus. They never talked deep, but could hear each other without talking.

-Five and Vanya:

BEST OF FRIENDS. Five always felt Vanya was so mature and smart. Talked about everything. Five always complained about his siblings and dad and told everything to Vanya and Vanya listened to him patiently. His departure hit her so so bad.

-Ben and Five:

Loved each other’s company. Worked so well together. Loved each other. Had midnight talks.

-Vanya and Ben:

Vanya listened to Five, Ben listened to Vanya. Ben was the ONLY person who cared so much about Vanya. He was her guardian, her safety blanket. When Vanya was upset, Ben grabbed Klaus to cheer Vanya up. After making Vanya laugh, Klaus went away and Ben and Vanya talked about everything.

So yeah, that’s all. I hope y’all enjoyed this. It took me a long time to write this down. Please share your thoughts and feelings. Thank youu 🥰🥰

[mc-critical]

What do you think about the relationship between SS and his father? In all the times it is mentioned, it seems that he still fears him and holds a grudge for trying to kill him, but what happens after Mustafa's execution, it is not clear to me if in his mind he made peace with him

The relationship between Süleiman and Yavuz Selim was clearly very turbulent from the start. When Selim was mentioned and appeared on the horizon, he indeed was always portrayed as this ruthless and even equally paranoid guy who would do anything to keep his power. And this paranoia of his kept on even when SS was the only heir left. We don't know much of his canon characterization outside of what people that knew him have said about him and a few flashbacks, but I do headcanon that he went on campaigns a whole lot and that he cared about the state, his own state much more than any other personal attachments he could've had. That's why he may not have gotten that close to his only son, too (SS spending most of his time in a sanjack could've also contributed to this) and since similarly to SS, his paranoia and self-righteousness hardened him to the point where there was no turning back anymore and that more or less became who you are, you look at yourself as a figure of a ruthless padişah, not so much as a human being, Selim would be capable of the most drastic measures against whoever he felt betray him in some way. It's no wonder Hafsa kept SS as far away from his suspicion as possible, because Selim is characterized by everyone by being ruthless and cruel and that means he can be pretty unpredictable, as well, judging by the situation with the kaftan. He is a guy that his family - his wife (in the show apparently), his daughters and his only son! - is afraid of.

Given the circumstances, it's pretty explainable to me why SS is afraid of him, as well, and is probably the one who is the most afraid of him deep down, but wouldn't admit it so openly, of course, only in self reflection. SS has apparently grown distant to his own father and perhaps they haven't even met so much. The flashback in E55 gave us a glimpse of how their relationship could've been - a pretty familiar sword fight and words about innocence that establish that Selim has also seen the danger in SS from pretty early on. It's as if SS has always been a suspect from day one. However, outside of that flashback, SS defines Selim by two major deeds - the whole ordeal with Selim's own father and the poisoned kaftan. Since again, SS spent most of his time in a sanjack and he didn't have the chance (Hafsa could've talked him out of it) or simply didn't want to let out his anger on his father for this event, deep resentment would overtake SS more and more throughout the years, because it's a vivid, impactful image and a strong, negative emotion one wouldn't forget so easily when your own father is the one who wants your death. This precise event is the one most telling of Selim's cruelty and ruthlessness in the show and that's what SS associates him with - cruelty and ruthlessness. But there the fear comes in, most of all, because of the similar position: one day SS would have to go in his footsteps, one day he would have to take on his role. SS is also a padişah and what if he also becomes like Selim? What if he also sends a poisoned kaftan to his son? (he asked Allah not to let him do that in one episode) What if he becomes as cruel, what if his reign also turns into a bloodshed? This fear of his is so strong and deep-seated that the further SS goes on with his growing Ego and paranoia, the more this fear ends up overtaking him and makes what he has still strived to avoid become part of him he lives by and a mold he would always follow, for he is the padişah and he, just like his father, wouldn't stand betrayal or what he perceives as betrayal, because he has become so used to living with this fear that amplified his Ego and paranoia even more that he writes off his deeds as absolutely necessary when he only screwed up big time.

This fear has turned into SS's ultimate justification, for Yavuz Selim was presented as his Azraeel two episodes before he did one of the wrongest deeds in his life. Here's the place for me to say that SS would have only benefited more as a character and gained much more sympathy from me, if precisely his backstory with his father was more explored beyond what we got. What we got was too scarse to justify his (let's face it) mostly out-of-context event-based paranoia to the point it became like this is used as SS's own justification without him truly realizing it, not a justification the audience got, because the show didn't want to justify neither Ibrahim's (maybe aside from E82 itself), nor Mustafa's execution. We could see the factors, yes, but justify the executions? No, especially when they both were presented as wrong when it came to the state itself through the tragic themes. And that's the thing: SS eventually put his Ego of a padişah and warped beliefs of what has to be done over his own early established principles and the state itself. That's also why SS's motivation rings hollow due to this minimal information and I think that SS not only became like his father, he even exceeded him. The stability of the state still played a part in the only other established event of Yavuz Selim SS eventually leaned on in E97 and shown with an actual flashback in E122 and his intentions didn't seem to have changed, since he was praised for his ruling and conquests. No matter how ruthless he was, we're led to believe he still was a decent ruler. That changes with SS. He begins putting Selim's way of thinking and courses of action in his own ways of thinking and ends up twisting them even further, if only for the deeper exploration and character arc we got with him.

Süleiman gives in to Selim's ways of thinking pretty early actually: he's used to being suspected and he quickly becomes accustomed to his own role to the point his decisions could hurt his family and could be pretty similar to his own father's. The paranoia of betrayal and dethroning appeared much faster than even he could imagine, since once he saw Mustafa grow up more and more, yes, he had very mixed feelings when he saw him again in E46 and he showed pride in him then still, but he also saw the danger more and more and recited the exact same words his father had once said to him himself. It's no wonder that E55's flashback and the aforementioned scene were parallels to each other: it's like Selim had said these words to SS in a fairly early stage of their relationship and here the cycle repeats with Mustafa and the signs of SS becoming like Selim, something he would never principally want to, are already there, not to mention Hafsa's warnings even before that. (because I wouldn't be surprised if she knew Selim better than SS did - she has spent quite some time with him as his wife and she was the one who immediately sensed danger in the kaftan situation, yes, a mother's survival instinct plays here, too, but Hafsa isn't a person who would be suspicious without any reason whatsoever, even at her worst) By then and by E123, SS had already shown the ruthlessness Selim demonstrated and the more we went, the more SS fell into despair for all his actions, the worse he ended up being, ceasing to realize the effects of what he has done. (like his intervention or lack thereof in the culmination of Selim and Bayezid's conflict) For SS it's way beyond a matter of self-righteousness, but a matter of conscience he had stopped listening to, a conscience he previously said that would define his reign. That fear of his father made him go in lengths he wouldn't imagine him going and for all the perceived attempts to avoid it throughout the show (like him not sending a poisoned kaftan to Mustafa and telling him that he wouldn't ever dare such execution), he ended up caving to them more and more and taking his own spin on Selim's mindset. SS took his role as a padişah much more dearly and that allowed him to delve deeper into his paranoia, into what he has to do for the sake of solely continuing to rule. Perhaps that survival instinct present during Selim's reign never left and evolved into something else. (we don't know the full extent of Selim's cruelty, which is honestly merely covered in hints, but we do know the full extent of SS's, which gives us even more of a possibility for SS to have "evolved" past it.)

Did Süleiman make peace with his father? It never became clear in the show, but I doubt that happened, at least not before he died. It's the fear of becoming Selim Yavuz that ruined SS's whole life in one way or another and his conscience always spoke to him left and right, no matter how willing he was to listen or not. I see SS becoming even more resentful of his father's ways when he committed his worst crimes. And even in his last days, he was more adamant to prove to people that he himself was still a capable ruler by going to a campaign, risking his own life and health for the sake of proving a point than thinking about how far has he come when it came to what he did as a padişah and how did that tie into the ways of his father. He certainly became more accepting of his mold over the years, but not in the way that would make peace with him, but rather as something that has to be done for the sake of your role. Until he died, SS probably still heavily disliked his father as a person and the best he could do at that point is not think about him. He would never justify or make peace with Selim Yavuz's deeds, not even in front of himself, despite of him doing the exact same. Süleiman makes a distinction between his thinking and that of his father, despite of even his own self telling him otherwise deep down. He wants to make that distinction, so why would there be a reason for SS to make peace with him back then? There would be no reason in his eyes.

Now, when he died, it's up for interpretation. Maybe he could've made peace with his father or at least convinced himself of that in his afterlife, since in his last monologue he did say that he takes only love and friendship with him and that would mean no negative feeling left, right? But the monologue itself is very up for interpretation, too, because.. what does that mean? How did this sudden turnaround happen? Did SS realize what he had done was wrong? Was he ready to accept that? Was he truly ready to get out of his role he has been used to since forever and live another life that consisted of only love and friendship? Then what about the imagery of this scene that showed him going to another throne instead after all? Yes, maybe the love and friendship were the true throne he went to with the Sultanate coming to an end, but couldn't that be more him only fully coming to terms that he'll come back to where he came from, where every person on the earth came from (that is, the ground)? Because he could start over anyway, but still not forget what happened in his life, paralleled with his first monologue ever in the first episode, where he said that he doesn't forget? There is so much to speculate here.