#ANYONE CAN. this is my complain with churches that are mostly for adults too. like where are your coloring books and crayons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

real-total-drama-takes · 5 months ago

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I have a dumb question?

Why everyone mad at the smut?

But those say I would never draw questionable outfits to many said characters, but it's not smut they will say.

When I go on AO3 I was 12ish mostly was more not kid friendly or teen friendly, I guess.

My solution is baby gate:

We kick out all the kids and teens out. Call their parents, snitch on them for looking up smut, block their access to internet, and never let them grow up ever. In fact, we should ban total drama for the new generations because it's too grown up for them in general (I am joking... this a joke)

See that's not nice or solving anything.

Or other solutions we ban anyone from the fandom we just don't even dox them to point the take their own life (I am not serious about this too)

So either you think teenagers should never see anything related to smut to sexual to inherently grown in general.

So, do we raise children who are not our own and band together to ban them off Tumblr and the total drama fandom as a whole to save "purity" and protect the children in general?

Because most of you sound like the church.

I want safer ways of teenagers to grown up in general, do want teens reading smut or watching porn.... NO. I rather they not but I can't raise or control these teenagers.

BUT... I don't want them to end up like me.

I was sexual assaulted growing up a lot sometimes reading a safe smut scene between who teens that loved each other at that time made me understand what happened to me was wrong. I don't want to realize years later they were groomed, abuse, and used like sex thing because instead of exploring it out in a fictional space of writing then doing it in reality.

So maybe we should write more with tag only for adults, toxic relationship included, main characters aren't good people here.

Sex is not everything.

Love is not everything.

A lot of things aren't everything for many.

You sound like bitter old people, and I am higher than Jesus for not liking smut or ever writing smut.

People exist even if we don't want them too.

Smut and porn been here longer than this fandom as a whole.

We can do something about it but with understanding, respect, and without judgement as growing adults and adults in this fandom.

Also, you can mute writers, block, and call people out ONLY WHEN NEEDED TO!!!

Point in case this more complicated than it seems.

Courtney to Leshawna to Katie to Alejandro to Lindsay to Heather are often in sexualization, stereotyped, and fucked in manner that I don't like at times.

Like if you go I am writing this for letting you know from my own personal experience that I been sexualized or harassed as a child to teen as black teen like Leshawna or in case of Alejandro stereotype... I wrote this story to release my pain, confusion, fear, and the placed burdens of others off me for now in my story of fanfic.

You go WELL I DIDN'T LIKE IT AND THAT NEVER HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE....

Your ignorance is a privilege I wish I can say I crave as a child to teen. Unlucky for me I had to go through awful shit then if it's in my stories then why are you still here if your judgement is I don't belong to you- you who is high and mighty so damn powerful- even skilled writer at that.

You complain but not create.

You don't like what you see or read then create better and make it a safer place for others like you.

Shame is badge of honor at one's home were parents don't believe you growing up.

Some others are here to escape, some for joy and community, some for since 2007 times them growing up with this fandom but now we divide ourselves like we aren't in a fandom called total drama.

We need to address the fact that no wants to hurt child, we don't want any child to teens scarred or burden at a young age, but to not realize they themselves are people makes me feel like maybe we should do something in were maybe whole 2 weeks just teen/child friendly context for the new generation joining the fandom.

From an abused child to teen that had no sex education until 16 years old due to the lgbt+ club in my high school forced in my system after saving me from getting sexually harassed by an 18-year-old boy that I thought was being just nice to me. Now a growing young adult in therapy who can't live with themselves and what happened to me.

It's just cartoons and fandom to some of you.

Some people find families to love to reasons to live in brain rot of total drama.

I really like sillies here and the stories some you of you put on AO3. We can't always control what we like or dislike...

Some writer age them to 33s to 40s

But I will say I don't like 12 to 30 ship or rareships that only smut. That's problem I don't want to open up on

I don't like self inserts or OC dating Duncan and being friends with Gwen but hate on Courtney 24/7 or something similar to that only because that's my own opinion to deal with, but I am not like oh I would never... I am like could never and mention each time without doing something about it.

You know how I deal with it? Mute.

Even Block as last option.

So the point is we can do better as a fandom, yes! And no!

No because you guys keep fighting with yourselves more than anyone else I have ever seen.

I don't write smut, but I make drawing of the said characters in very tiny to sexual context, yet I am not like those awful smut writers!

Dude... you are at the level of the smut writers too. Bestie the glass house of the fandom is in shambles from the hot air and rocks we keep throwing and missing at each other!

So maybe tag as only mature and not for teens.

UH>>>>>>> there must be more I left out too.

I am fanfic writer, and I want to leave because I think I am more harm than good now with some of your talks what should not be in this fandom or what should.

I regret to inform you that I wish to cancel my mind and never wrote if it meant you guys were going treat me like I am in church again and I am their hopeful for belonging but instead everyone wants me to never be me or even be there because I am not like you.

I don't know how to please you when I am trying to just exist and write stupid cartoons kiss, be parents, and be mature.

Instead I guess I can only write 55 million words of 33 million stories of them never growing up, no kissing, no friendship, no affection, just drama and competition in general to please thy holey moley of the fandom.

Also we should write more asexual or queer relationship in a health manner.

AND STOP BEING RACIST TO LESHAWNA--- WHY YOU ARE LETTING HAROLD AHHHHHHH AHAHAHHFH DO THAT TO LESHAWNA

I am emotionally not okay, and I didn't know where I can say this. But the point is I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FANDOM DO YOU WANT FANS WHO FEEL SAFE, HAPPY, AND CREATE FOR THE FANDOM OR SHAME ALL THAT AREN'T LIKE YOU OUT HERE.

LOOK THERE'S SHIT WE NEED CALL OUT AND NO ALLOW BUT ARE WE MORAL POLICE

DO THE HEAVENS SAY TOTAL DRAMA FANDOMS MUST NEVER WANT SEX OR GROWN UP?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON BUT YOU GUYS ARE FIGHT?

ARE YOU FIGHTING?

FIGHTING FOR WHAT?

FIGHTING EACH OTHER OR SAFER PLACE FOR ALL?

SOME US NEED JOBS AND BASIC NEED MET BUT WE GO HERE HAVE FUN THEN SEE THIS AND I AM LIKE WTF IS HAPPENING?!

ARE WE FIGHTING? WHY?

I need someone else to explain to me like I am 3 years old. To do less harm in general and understand wtf going on

#help #fandom takes

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faenix-fire · 2 years ago

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I went and got too much data out together for this but I wanted to add more. I'm going to go in this layer by layer like an onion starting with what's mostly known and talked about on Tumblr which is the attack on the queer community.

The attack on LGBTQIA+ youth is what Mormons see it as attack on purity. Theirs a level of performance that's expected at all times, certain people can get away with failing but there's those on the chopping block who's performance allows them a place to stay, a home, and acceptance.

In Utah, the mormon center there's a high level of mental illness and it goes from children to adults.

Utah is the highest in the following.

Now there's multiple factors behind this and one being the culture. The performance is an emotionally draining one and your not really aware enough to complain about it and if you are no one is going to understand.

Now POC, Queer people, and people who don't practice Mormonism are at a disadvantage. Many of them are more likely to face abuse, be let go from work, and face discrimination without help or resources. The problem is they're left out of the Mormon sphere, which is big, and that leaves them out of recourses. They can't connect to therapists who promote and believe in homophobic and racist ideas supported by the community. There's little anyone can do but cling to each other and that's if they can find one another.

In Mormonism your taught skills you should develop and people you should try to emulate. Standing out too much is a bad things. You don't want to be caught trying to "not be like other girls" you want to fit in and be the best performer.

There are a lot of common teachings of being a community and working together. Often using bees or sheep as a symbol. It's expected that you follow each other you get along and you don't be yourself. That's the key. You can't be yourself so everyone has to live towards an unhappy, unfulfilled, shitty goal. And Mormonism spreads this around the globe.

Adding more the statistics below:

The suicide belt:

Percentage of Mormonism:

The Rocky mountains:

Now higher altitudes can cause an increase in depression and anxiety as well as bad moods in general. The mountains do not help those in this area and adding a high demand religion isn't going to help. Looking at Utah data above there's a very different data for Utah vs it's neighbors. Suicide is the national low but it's the highest form of death for teens.

The pressure put on teenagers is astounding. I was raised in Utah myself it's why I care about this topic. Everyone I knew in school was suffering horribly. In one of my years of highschool the yearbook had three pages dedicated to kids who had died that year and all but one was suicide. They had barely anything there for them in the book, just a picture and names, all all of them were POC, non church members or openly Queer. Non of them had a support system they were outcasts. They didn't act the right way and so they've never been loved when they most needed it.

Those on the top in my teen years we're at best walking ghosts. I never saw them passionate about anything, they just were there and they did anything they were told and that's it. They didn't snort at jokes or act goofy. They were adored by adults for their behavior. Often these kids were pulled away from the group and praised by the opposite sex who were at least old enough to be their parent. They were told they were perfect marriage material. Their skills they worked on were encouraged and pushed as a performance for them to put in for these adults. "Show us how good you can sing, cook, wood work, knit, babysit, fix a car" It was grooming and in a way that was celebrated and isolating. Those kids, I believe, we're whisked away into dangerous and unsafe situations often almost weekly, even daily.

This all is not new either. It's always been the case or Mormonism. Joseph Smith, the founder, married a 14 year old girl, and although it was legal, the non members in the area of course didn't like it. It was still seen as archaic and disgusting even then.

And Mormonism had a lot of wars during it's founding because it kept growing and it's beliefs and cult like attitude was scaring people. They were getting multiple wives and they were changing the laws and culture. The church was closed off and holding secret ceremonies that people couldn't learn about and that looked dangerous. The leader had even been known to be convicted of fraud multiple times before this all started.

And it didn't get better. Joseph Smith prophesied of the governor dying a horrible death and not to long later he was shot in the neck and head. The governor survived surprisingly when he wasn't predicted to live by his doctor. One of Joseph's people had been conveniently in town and the Mormons had assumed him dead before they'd heard he survived or even was hurt at all. There wasn't enough proof to convict but the action led to his death because of a mob.

This only pushed Mormonism forward because Brigham Young took over and he pushed people to move west. He was also probably the worst fucking prophet I wouldn't know where to start everything about him is a nightmare and some far right people now days call him a "Chad" rather then "insane nut case monster" like they should.

If you live in this area then you may have been in the Mormon fantasy state if things went well. Also this amount on land of you can tell us huge. Utah from top to bottom can take five to six hours by car. This picture has basically all of Utah, Nevada, a majority of Arizona, the entire border where Nevada and California, most of the bottom of California, and little parts of Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico, Idaho, and Oregon.

This brings me to the term Deseret, a word still used today. The Mormon owned newspaper is called Deseret News. Many of the affects of Mormonism still affects these areas and their foundings.

Mormonism shaped the west, literally.

A good portion of the FBI and CIA is Mormon. Also a large percentage of Mormons serve in the military. My cousin severed to get away from my family and find a group that could protect him from Mormons which was the government.

As much of the founding is retold often and can seem boring it all explains where Mormonism sits now. The stuff less known is deeper down.

There's also the weird stuff people like to talk about.

Also a lot schizophrenics are diagnosed in Utah (me) and surounding areas and there's a high correlation with them being Mormon. Schizophrenia can come from abuse and often in my experience it seems to be from people around you trying to disillusion you from reality. A religion full of illusions you can't question no matter what the followers do to you is a great testing group for mental illness. My aunt who was diagnosed never really got help. She ran away from home off to silicone valley to chase her dreams. She ended up in Scientology and in debt. She ran away from there too off to the mountains to seclude herself. She believed that the government was a Christian state and it was going to come for her. She ended up dying because she believed her food and water was poisoned. Mormons follow when you leave and they did follow her, not the scientologists. If they hadn't she wouldn't have been as paranoid and she wouldn't have ran off to the woods. Mormons stalking where you move helped kill her and I can't just forget that.

Salt Lake has underground secret tunnels. Of course it's less terrifying then it sounds but the high church members use them as a way to travel around the city. They actually have more protection then the president of the United States. I believe it was George Bush that went down in the tunnels when he visited Utah. They also have secret mountains full of documents. Sure all that sounds so bizarre and mysterious but there's worse secrets hidden in Utah.

Mormons were a huge factor in indigenous kids being rehomed and schooled. Knowing and seeing with my own eyes the effects of what they did, it's just awful. I've met survivors, I've actually set foot at one of the school grounds, it wasn't well kept at that point. It's mostly gone now but that school had once been a war hospital for WWII, it got repurposed for the students. We know kids have gone missing at these schools in Canada we know it by what has been found and the knowledge of lost kids. It wasn't exactly the same for the schools in Utah but there's kids who died from suicide and poisoning, ones with sexual abuse from the people they stayed with, as well as physical abuse, and extreme racism from the communities.

The church will not acknowledge when they did, the groups affected continue to meet together for community get togethers and they're lovely to talk to. Much of the important parts of the school that could be salvaged after it was left abandoned has been put in safe displays. There's art and photos and people have shared memories of the time. Still even though it was "better" then what many other schools are the time we're dealing with it's still a form of cultural genocide, many haven't rekindled their connection to their culture and that's cut a history away that can't come back.

This isn't a unique story to Utah with Mormonism either, they've conducted their interactions with the air of nice intentions across the globe. There's been blood and cultural death in the ground that Mormons tread from the very begging and it still remains.

This is why I try to tell people that Mormonism is America as a religion. It's promotes everything the states have always tried to be and it still spreads the message of conversion.

This stuff hasn't ended it has always continued and is still continuing. Many island cultures have fallen into a horrible place because of Mormon missionaries. The Polynesian cultural centre as mentioned above in a previous post is in possession of the Mormon church. They have control of what you see in the cultural centers and they get to dictate their culture for others to believe. They hold stakes in Hawai'i and what is taught to people. It's cultural genocide and they don't only do it to Hawai'i. American Samoa, and Samoa are both places that are affected. Their tattoos were shamed by the Mormons that colonized and proselytized.

Mormons loves to consume culture, are even encouraged too, and do so without actually respecting it. They can follow all the rules, even learn the language, but none of it is for anything other then conversion. I've heard and seen young men in Utah use racial slurs directed at staff in Ethiopian restaurants while speaking the language themselves. It's not about love for the people, it's about wanting to consume and dilute everything into Mormonism. It's something that comes second to the gospel, and nothing, not even heritage comes before Mormonism. That's not truly how it is though because Mormon culture is allowed to mix with the religion and much of it is American and European. It it just not allowed for groups that are not already following the white cultural beliefs. They're shunning foods people eat or religious practices that are seen as a sin.

This is what leads into my last big point. Mormonism is fascistic. Mormonism has been mentioned to have members, multiple, try to baptize Hitler. This is something you might hear and it talked about more openly then most things. This is knowledge that is on the outer layer of the Mormonism onion but it's also at the center. In WWII Mormons were not persecuted in Germany when Jehovah witnesses and Jews were. Mormons in Utah even liked Hitler and he had a following in Mormon spaces, people praised him for not drinking alcohol and eating healthy.

The church had this all pointed out pretty recently so they brought up a young boy, the youngest to ever ordered to be put to death by Hitler himself. He was Mormon and he was Jewish. The church, after the information above broken news, used this boy to promote themselves as not in line with Nazis. The problem with the story is the church had had him excommunicated, that means he was kicked out. Now, usually the prophet does that but this one had been unlawful, the members in Germany had removed him because he was Jewish. He got reinstated far to late and only to look better during the war. He died after standing up against the government and none of the members stood with him and even condemned him as well. The church at the time had made no stance on the matter of on the war itself of his death. Only after they were under fire recently did they dig up his name for PR. They'd never mentioned him as a hero or brave, nothing, not till they were mentioned in a specific book.

One of the other layers of Mormonism is that it's runs like a business. Everything is run as squeaky clean as you can get it while having underqualified people work in it. Each member is like a worker promoting their brand with a smile. Each member creates their own little members and converts others. The Mormon Corridor, also called Morridor by people here, is often perfect places for mlm's and pyramid schemes. There are many terfs, mlm mom's, vaccine disbelievers, and the hostile vegans and all in high numbers. It's a perfect place to get people who are in a community that already functions like these groups. You share and pass along messages of recruitment, you drop different lifestyles and adopt new ones, you persecute and play victim and so on.

This all leads Mormons to be easy recruiters because they listen and believe in group mentality. They've been taught not to think for themselves.

There a whole bunch of things the church gets money from business wise and their school (BYU) is a business school primarily. They own large swaths of land, enough parts that they have sway in things you can't even imagine.

Everything they touch brings them money, their followers bring them money, you who buys or interacts with anything Mormon or distantly Mormon gives them money. They sit on piles of cash and assets that go far beyond what a church needs. If you spending and money that touched a Mormon property, asset, member, or holding all trickles up to the church and they hold on to most of it.

Below are just some the things they get money from.

The church just like it's fancy temples and sweet smiley people, all of it is the surface. It holds beliefs that haven't changed as much as it seems.

Currently there's a group called DezNat, and as much as pulling a Deez Nuts joke on them is fun this problem is very serious. They're a alt right group that want Utah to be it's own country and stand out as Deseret as Brigham Young wanted. They had members in the kiwi farms, the proud boys, the January 6 attack. Last year a group tried to attend a pride parade in Idaho and many were Mormon and likely frequent these groups.

In the Ex Mormon spaces in including ones for chatting like discord, there are these people the hunt, watch, and take screenshots. Pretty much all my ex Mormon friends that are Queer or POC have been harassed for stating problems with the church online even in places they think are safe. They've been doxed for tweets and their accounts on social media you can find is searches next to DezNat. These groups on the alt right work together and help each other. There have been times we've sat and read their private conversations from the inside and It's all about wanted to cull people like cattle and take of the Us.

It also doesn't help how many death threats they send. I don't know if my favorite photo threat to receive is the Bowie knife that they love because Brigham Young cut up people who left the church or looking down the barrel of their favorite gun in a selfie with their head covered. (There's also here in Tumblr so it'll be interesting if I get any harassment here.)

The church hasn't made much of a statement about DezNat's even though they've been in the news, even getting on the today show in New York. They often make a fool of themselves for news but they're still a threat to people. They are working with groups around the globe and getting my friends attacked all while they're adult men with families. These guys smile at church and seem like that sweet guy who gives out candy in church lessons, they're seen to Mormons as police officers the protect, businessman, accountants ect. Mormons don't know and I don't think they'd know how to respond if they knew. Most Mormon women would divorce their husband if he was found looking at porn but not if he was a DezNat, that's a problem.

Mormonism hides it's biggest issues where only those hurting and attacked reside, it's why they are told not to listen to us. We Ex-Mormons are less Intresting to people outside then members trying to explain their beliefs or the weird secret mysteries. Mormonism is often seen as funny or a gag when it's quietly smothering like binds that are reshaping your body as your grow.

Not enough people know the truth only what's fun to tell as a story. It shouldn't be that way, people should know the truth.

Here's some resources on some of the information I said, most just people's thoughts and news. Not all of it is made by people against the church or groups not aligned with them but they bring up some of the data and screenshots I used. (None are if the Utah mental health charts because it's not directly related to the church more a symptom. You can look up the charts if you want)

Some about racism and colonization (they are all important but 7-10 is more indepth about the residential school I mentioned above):

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Some of the LGBTQ problems and the sexual purity culture at BYU(Mormon collage with three locations):

1 2 3 4 5

Mormonism being a business and group think (including FBI stuff):

1 2 3 4 5

Mormonism and Nazis (the third is a great YouTube channel on a lot of Mormon topics):

1 2 3 4 5

Not enough people know the Mormons believe Native Americans are Jewish people who turned away from God and got cursed by having their skin darkened, or that Mormons literally have Manifest Destiny right there in the text, no extrapolation. I’m not Native at all, but frankly, it’s one of the most disgusting things of that faith that caused me to utterly reject it. It is a vile religion that is white supremacist to its very core.

#let me know if the links are broken #I was going to add alt text to tge images but I've already used a lot of time and so I'll come back an do it if no one else has #mormonism #exmormon #mormon #residental schools #Indian Placement Program #cw sui mention #cw colonialism #cw genocide #cw christianity #i really don't know how to tag give me suggestions i turned my brain ti goop doing this #this is so fucking long I'm so sorry i need to learn to not add to much information i don't know how to paraphrase #also if i have any information wrong you can tell me that'd be cool to know #cw death threats #i spent 7 hours on this omg 💀

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slasherhaven · 4 years ago

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Late Nights in Ambrose

Teenage Bo Sinclair X Teenage Reader

Summary: Bo had a bad day, and that means he needs to see you.

Ambrose was a little town, one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. Of a day, it felt like everyone was watching you, wanting you to act a certain way, and waiting for you to mess up. You weren’t the only one who felt that way, everyone did, even the adults.

Maybe that was why you found yourself sneaking out of a night to meet with your best friend. There weren’t many kids your age, classes where always small, but it was still Bo Sinclair that you found yourself growing close too.

Everyone knew the Sinclair family and about the twins, they knew Bo as the bad twin and Vincent as the good twin. Not that they treated Vincent accordingly, people weren’t kind to those who look different. Bo still got it bad, it’s difficult to break away from a reputation like his.

“Bo, what is all this about?” you asked quietly, wrapping your jacket around yourself as you closed the door behind you.

“What? You not glad to see me?” your friend asked with a cocky smirk.

“I saw you this afternoon and this morning, when you convinced me to skip church” you reminded him with a roll of the eyes.

“You really gonna pretend you care?” Bo asked with a small scoff, already walking away from your house and you following him without argument.

“No, I’m glad I can use you as an excuse to get out of it. My parents were less happy about it” you informed him. Your parents hated Bo, always saying that he was trouble, that he was a bad influence on you. Maybe they were right, you didn’t care all that much either way.

“They give you a lecture?” he asked.

“’course, they mostly blamed you, though. Said you are a bad influence” that earned a small, amused huff from him. “What about your parents?” you asked.

“Same old shit. Don’t think they really expect me to show anymore” he shrugged, “look’s like they’re starting to give up on their problem child.”

“You’re not a problem, Bo” you assured him. “Not to me, anyway” you gave him a small but sincere smile, one that he didn’t return but he nodded in acknowledgement.

The two of you headed to your usual spot. There weren’t many places to go in the little town, the best was probably behind the wax museum of a night once it was empty. It was a little bit away from the rest of town so you wouldn’t be disturbed and neither of you would disturb anyone else.

Bo guided you around the large building, to a more unkept area. He placed a hand on your elbow, helping guide you over a busted down wall, the wall that the two of you sat behind. It was good for when his mother was actually staying late at the museum or when somebody came nosing around, it gave you both some extra time to get out of there and not get caught.

Leaning back against the wall behind you, you smiled to yourself. In front of you both was a line of trees, reminding you of how out in the middle of nowhere Ambrose was, but above you both was a night sky filled with stars.

Your attention turned back to Bo when he lent back against the wall, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Where did you get those?” you asked.

“I have my secrets” he hummed as he pulled out a lighter.

“You stole them” you concluded, rolling your eyes.

“That ain’t something you can prove” he smirked a little, lighting up a cigarette. “Want one?” he offered, holding the pack out to you.

“No thanks” you shook your head.

“Suit yourself” Bo shrugged, tucking the pack and lighter back into his pocket.

“So why did you drag me out of bed at this time of night?” you asked. Whenever Bo woke you up so late, it was normally for a reason, something more than just hanging out.

“Feel free to head back” he scoffed.

“...I’ll stay” you never planned on leaving in the first place. Bo could be complicated, always insisting that he preferred being alone but getting hostile when he thought you wanted to leave. “You can’t get rid of me that easy” you teased, knocking your shoulder against his.

“God knows I’ve tried” it’s true, you had befriended him a few years ago, even when he seemed dead set against it. You had grown on him, and you knew it.

“You love me really. You just won’t admit it” you insisted, a smile still on your face.

“Whatever you want to believe” he rolled his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette. Being an edgy, angsty teen was something Bo was good at.

“Bo?” you spoke up, smile fading from your face. He hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you ever think about leaving Ambrose?” you asked.

“All the time” he nodded.

“Do you think you ever will?” you looked to him. You couldn’t see him sticking around here and being happy for long, all he did was complain about the place and the people.

“Maybe” he shrugged.

“It sucks here” you huffed, looking back up at the stars.

“The place isn’t the bad thing. The people are” Bo told you.

“All but me, right?” you asked playfully, smiling at him.

Bo looked at you for a moment, as if thinking about something. “All but you” he nodded, making you smile some more. “Vincent and Lester too” he added after a short pause.

“You like us more than you’ll ever admit” you hummed. He cared for his brothers, and for you, more than he may let on but you knew it anyway. “Come on, why did you really come knocking on my window in the middle of the night?” you asked again.

“...today’s been rough” he confessed.

“You had a bad day?” you asked sympathetically. You knew that Bo had his reputation for a reason, he had outbursts. Some days you wouldn’t even know about it, he was perfectly normal, other days he was angry about everything, he snapped and got aggressive. It was rare that his anger was directed at you, and whenever it was, you always managed to calm him down.

“Yeah...and the parents decided they couldn’t handle it” he nodded. His cigarette had burnt down too small, so he put it out on the ground beside him and tossed it to the ground carelessly.

“They aren’t helping...they only make things worse” you commented, clearly not happy with the methods they use to punish and control their son.

“You’re telling me” Bo scoffed, unconsciously rubbing one of his wrists.

“I’m sorry” you frowned. You had seen his wrists before, it broke your heart. They would never heal properly, you both knew it. The redness would fade but the damage was done.

“What for?” he asked, looking at you like he was confused by your sympathy.

“...I dunno...everything” you answered quietly, cautiously reaching out and taking his hand in yours.

“Yeah well, no harm done” he shrugged, looking away from you but didn’t pull his hand away.

“But there is harm done...guess that’s what I’m sorry about” you whispered.

Bo didn’t like talking about this kind of stuff and you knew that, so you didn’t push it or question it when he didn’t look at you. Instead, you just rested your head against his shoulder, a quiet reminder that you were here with him.

Maybe it was a mistake because it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep against him. In your defence, he had woken you up in the early hours of the morning.

Feeling you lean against him more, Bo looked down to find you sleeping against his shoulder, your hand still in his. He didn’t even notice the tiny smile forming on his face.

You had become a part of his life through sheer determination, refusing to ever let him push you away. He cared for you now, had for a while. You were one of the few good things in Ambrose, Bo knew that. Hell, maybe that was what had these feelings fluttering around in his chest when he looked at you and the soft smile on your face.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers #my writing

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icantpostthisshitonmain · 4 years ago

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evangelical christianity is the pot calling the kettle black

from the first moment that i can remember, my mother took me and my siblings to church. when she decided to homeschool us, the church quickly became one of my only social outlets. i remember the first church we went to- it was a brick building with an organ and a real bell and belltower. looking back, that was the best experience i had with christianity.

my mom did not stay at one church for long, and we eventually left and tried out several others. one church was held in a renovated barn and the services consisted of the pastor reading whatever evangelical articles he found on the internet and subsequently a prayer request session. after the service we would rummage through clear plastic bags of donuts and bagels donated by the local grocery store. i saw nothing wrong with this.

when i was thirteen, approaching highschool, my mom became tired with the churches our small town had to offer. we then started attending a larger, more modern church almost an hour away. she quickly became enthralled and we became regulars every sunday. of course, my older brother and I had to attend youth group.

two things of note: thirteen was the age i started to become depressed, and i distinctly remember an eight month period where i struggled with my sexuality and more importantly, the existence of god. this church was also fiercely evangelical and even my mom would complain about the services occasionally.

because my older brother was fairly extroverted and popular, i almost never missed a youth group throughout all of highschool. i even joined the student leader team in my senior year.

one thing of note: i developed anorexia and bulimia when i was fourteen, two years before i graduated highschool.

i spent a lot of time at that church, but, maybe because i was starving myself, i don’t remember any specific details. instead everything blurs together into general themes/events.

theme 1: i am wyatt’s little sister. there is rarely a situation where I am present and he is not. i cling to him because he is loud and distracting and fills up the silence that i leave. no one hates me, but everyone pities me because poor dags look how quiet and shy she is.

theme 2: i am a christian. i am a christian. i must be a good christian. we must love homosexuals, but not support their lifestyle. i must save as many people as i can from hell. my dad is going to hell and it is my fault. if i died today i will go to hell. i did not actually mean it when i accepted jesus into my heart i should do it again or imgoingtohell.

theme 3: i have an extensive knowledge of every bathroom in that building. the one that i like to use is on the second floor right across from the balcony. if i go there no one will know im there. i can leave once during the service and go to the bathroom. there is going to be food. i am too weak to resist eating, and therefore i will need to go to the bathroom. if i run the tap, no one will hear it. when i go to sit down again, no one will notice i left.

there are really only three major events. the first is during spring of my senior year. i am sixteen. i started taking ballet a few years ago along with irish dance. my mother notices that i am losing weight and tells me that i need to eat more or she is going to take me out of dance. i get angry and we fight. several months later we fight again and i stop going to dance. this means that instead of going to church, dance, and home, i now only go to church and home.

the second event is early summer after i graduate. my mother finds me vomiting into the sink with the tap running. i don’t really care.

the third event is late summer after i graduate. after arguing about it for several weeks, my parents finally decide to allow me to go on the mission trip to guatemala i had planned to attend months before. i spend a week in guatemala, eating one tortilla and spoonful of beans per day. i try to vomit in the bathroom once and feel terrible because i worry i clogged the toilet. i barely drink water. i come home twelve pounds lost from my one hundred and ten pound, five foot six inch self one week earlier. i had never felt better and also never felt worse.

(last thing to note: people with bulimia will often hate themselves because they can’t lose weight. to my sixteen year old self, this was the greated thing i had ever accomplished.)

i was sick. i had spent the last three years of my live getting sicker and sicker. it wasn’t until i was almost dead that anyone noticed.

that is why i hate evangelical christianity. while i might not have been close with any of them, someone should have noticed me, especially the adults. instead these adults hyperfocused on the conversion of vulnerable teenagers, often holding mass events or secret getaway trips to do so.

i am now twenty one, and mostly consider myself agnostic. i have not attended a christian church in 5 years and do not seriously plan to ever again.

religious trauma is one of those phrases that is being thrown around a lot, and i don’t really think i was traumatized. i did eventually get help and am completely recovered. but i was definitely neglected by the people i trusted and who i thought at the time were as close to god as you could get. i was a lonely teenager whose only outlet was the church, and they still failed me.

in this last picture i am sixteen. this is before i went on the mission trip. i had known these people for years.

#ex christian #eating disorder #evangelical christianity #toxic christianity #recovery #atheism #agnostisism

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hideyholejournal · 3 years ago

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Journal entry #1

August 8 2021

I haven’t written in my journal for months now, mostly because I filled my pretty purple journal and I now don’t have the spare money to buy a new one. It doesn’t help that I’m really picky about what it looks like. A large motivator for me to suffer cramp wrist was how pretty the damn thing was so I’ve decided to start an online journal. That way I won’t have to hand write and the clacks of my keyboard will be my new, and much less pricey, motivator.

A lot has happened since I’ve last written anything so this first one will be pretty long. I’ll go by chronological event instead of important news first so that it will be easier for me to look back on my memories. Assuming this hell site is still running by then, of course.

To start, my sister finally married her fiancé after nearly four years of engagement. Apparently the main hold up was the family = The mothers, mostly = insisting that they not elope in Vegas like they wished to do. I kind of wish they had just defied everyone but alas, the wedding was on.

It wasn’t a large wedding, just a backyard shindig with immediate family and a few childhood friends. Still, the party afterward was very fun. It was really hot that day so everyone drank more than they meant to, including me. It marked the third time that I have ever gotten drunk and only reconfirmed that, while I don’t mind being a tiny bit tipsy, getting drunk is not my idea of fun. Every time I’ve been drunk has been a near tears experiences. I just don’t like the feeling At All.

Thankfully, everyone was generally friendly and there was no fighting between the Jones Girls (Fake Name For Privacy). There was a bit of a close call with this boy my sister was trying to set me up with. I swear Jennifer (FNFP) thinks I’m the female version of some angry know-it-all R/Smart dude because those are the type of people she says I’m like or that I’ll get along with.

Side rant: Why is it that my mother and sister spent Years complaining that I hated them because I never really talked to them or shared my opinion but as soon as I start to speak up I became a political raging machine in their eyes. It does not matter how nicely I try to speak or how much I control my tone they will always act as if me demanding basic human decency is too much for them to handle.

Anyway, the dude seemed nice enough at first, plus he was my type of attractive which was extra nice, but as the night wore on little things started annoying me more and more. For example: My niece started talking about how “They” found aliens. She believed this due to a UFO citing she’d heard about. Unfortunately, Augustus or whatever his name was, got high and mighty and started lecturing a Ten Year Old about what UFO meant and how if aliens were ever found the world would lose their collective minds.

Newsflash dude, no ones gonna think you’re cool because you crushed a little girls fun because you had to be the smartest person at the children's table. (Us Kind Of But Not Adults got put on Babysitting Duty) Like sure, educate the children on what UFO means but don’t draw some doomsday picture for an audience of ten and under. Children want to explore and imagine new worlds where everything is possible. In fact, this is a part of their development. Don’t crush any hint of imagination because it doesn’t fit your cynical idea of the world.

After that incident I had no interest in seeing him after the wedding but my options for interaction during were limited so I continued being friendly. The music was turned on a little after food and while I am very much Not a dancer I still enjoy doing it. Unfortunately, I only knew half of the people at the wedding and only two others were in my age range. As a result I had to go around begging people to dance with me. Augustus was staunch in his stand to never dance at weddings and I stopped asking after the first few times (At first I thought he was just shy about his skill level but then he seemed to get annoyed and I left it alone.) But his brother, despite not really wanting to dance overly much, was kind enough to join me.

In-between dancing I would migrate back to the two brother and ask them random questions to pass the time. I’m not the most social person but in the last few years I’ve been trying to push myself to put myself out there more, asking odd questions has become a fallback in social settings. My favourite to ask is “If you could change the colour of the sky what would it be and why?.” Both brothers said blue because that’s just what the colour is but of course Augustus had to explain why the sky was blue to me. Ugh.

Eventually, we got onto the topic of religion and I informed Augustus that I was a Hellenistic Pagan. Augustus took this as an opportunity to rant about how all religions are just money grabbing schemes, and continued with this after I explained that there isn’t really a church or temple or anything for Hellenistic Pagan’s so there really wasn’t anyone I was giving my money to. Soon after this he said that he just wanted to “Vibe” with the music and not play my questions game. So I left.

I tried not to be offended that we really didn’t connect but the entire situation brought old feelings of inadequacy. I just always feel like I’m too much or not enough in most situations, like I either feel everything all at once or I’m numb all day and I either talk a mile a minute or I can barely force words past my lips. It sucks.

It didn’t help that when my uncle came over to asked why I wasn’t with Augustus he said that I couldn’t ask weird question's about the sky because it “Makes you look like some deranged girl”.

The night got better after I moped for a bit but I didn’t talk to Augustus again. On the bright side, my uncle's girlfriend taught me how to two-step and I had a lot of fun white girl dancing to the fast songs. My only dance move is to swing my hips and bounce around. I think I might see about taking some dance classes to work on my coordination.

I think I’ll end this entry here. There’s a lot more to write but I’ll leave it for later

Bye

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petals42 · 5 years ago

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Coach - Part V

Hello all. I know in my major fics I’ve made Coach and Suzanne not very nice people, but after the latest updates I figured I’d try my hand at writing canon-compliant Coach. This is in his POV so obviously Coach-centric and he is not magically a perfect ally. He’s trying though.

3.6k; canon-compliant; content warning: homophobia; post- Coach IV

It’s Sunday. Which means Church for Suzanne always and Church for Richard when he has the time. Or about every three weeks when Suzanne starts asking him on Thursday whether he is going to make it this week instead of waiting til the morning-of. It’s his signal to go with her so she can show him off or introduce him to new folks or just re-establish that they are together and happy and she can still make him go to Church whenever she wants.

Either way, it’s not bad. He doesn’t mind listening to the sermons, even if he’s not quite sure how much stock he puts in all of this, and the music is good enough, even if he’s not one for singing himself.

He doesn’t even mind the post-Church chitchat. In the fall and winter, the traditional spread of baked goods made by the women of the Church is usually served in the small auditorium. It’s cold when you first walk in and then all the bodies heat it up so that by the end Suzanne will be complaining that if they don’t want to put the AC on, they could just open a window or something.

Richard knows his role in this too. He stands off to the side with his plateful of baked goods, making sure to take the ones baked by Suzanne’s friends and avoid the ones made by anyone his wife is currently feuding with. He chats with some folk who wander over, always polite, but mostly people know him well enough to let him be and wait for Suzanne to finish talking with everyone.

They have a good system. They walk through the line of food together which is when he puts on his best smile. Then he goes to a corner, she claims she has to use the restroom but takes her plate with her and stops to mill and chat with everyone on the way to the bathroom. She’ll finish her plate before she gets to the bathroom, throw it away, and then talk to many of the same people on her way back. He’ll wait and watch and when she starts looking a little tight around the eyes or flexes her left hand in that certain way, that’s when he’ll walk up and ask if she minds leaving. She’ll say of course, they will make their goodbyes, and that’s that.

Sunday morning.

Usually his time in the corner is almost meditative. He lets his eyes unfocus and eats just steadily enough that people can see he is eating and lets his mind drift. It may be a weird place to meditate, in a room filled with other adults, but it works for him. Coaching is a loud job, filled with the noise of teenagers and yelling and grunts and sounds just of working in a high school, really. And then Suzanne is not loud in the same way and he loves listening to her (for as little as he inputs, really he does), but she’s not a still person. She’s light and movement and laughter and she fills up a room enough that usually he is content to just bask in her presence. It’s more joyful than meditative.

This, though. This is just right. His brain is already a little fuzzy from spacing out during the sermon and he’s bored enough that usually he would pull out his phone, but standing and relaxing in a corner is fine. Playing on your phone in a corner is rude. According to Suzanne. And he doesn’t disagree. So he’s a little bored, unable to do anything to fix that boredom, happy to turn the chitchat around him into a sort of gray static he doesn’t have to pay attention to and just… relax.

Of course, this week relaxing is a bit difficult.

He’d been busy in the week he’d gotten back from Samwell. He had booked that flight a bit last minute so it was fly out late, late on Tuesday and then leave Thursday midday to try to make it back for Thursday’s practice because he was the head coach of a football team and, goodness Junior better make it late in the playoffs when there is plenty of time for him to actually go up and see more of the games.

So it was practice and then cram all the strategy and tape he was supposed to do Tuesday and Wednesday into Friday and game Saturday (a win, but a sloppy one if he is being honest) and it is now, Sunday, as he stands and watches people try to eat while holding a small paper plate filled with too much food, that he is finally able to think about it all.

About the car ride and Junior telling him that he wasn’t acknowledging his relationship and getting upset and telling him that he needed to know he wasn’t messed up, like Richard would ever think he was messed up but the fact that Junior had to even ask was--

He blows out a breath. Not angry just… annoyed. At himself. And maybe a little but at Junior even though he shouldn’t be and he isn’t, he just--

Sometimes he feels he never got credit for the things he did do. He paid for all those ice dancing lessons even though he didn’t understood a bit of it. And then when it became obvious Junior was good, he paid for that private coach and went online to learn at least some of the terms even though he was never going to be able to give Junior any actual advice on anything. Which had… well, he could at least admit that that had been a bit of a disappointment. He loved teaching and coaching and yes, see, don’t rely on your elbow so much. Power’s in your shoulder-- there you go, feel the difference? He loved being a coach. But with Junior and ice skating… he looked up enough to sometimes manage a weak Remember to pull your arms tight and Junior would look up at him and smile and nod when he was little but he got older and better and eventually he had to stop trying. Because Junior was more advanced than any of the little tips he could find and he had that private coach to tell him what he was actually doing wrong and he didn’t want to look like a fool and certainly didn’t want Junior to get annoyed with him so…

He’d moved too. He and Suzanne. Packed up their house and he’d gotten a new job away from the kids he’d been coaching for years and they never talked about it with Junior, never wanted him to feel like it was his fault but his son wasn’t stupid. He would’ve thought that he made the connection between the bullying and the change of scenery, as it were.

And then there was hockey, another sport for him to learn enough so he could at least understand what was going on and offer tentative tips, and Samwell and taking out a loan to cover what Junior’s scholarship didn’t and flying up to see at least some of the games and he’s tried to keep things as normal as possible after Jack. Tried to make it obvious that nothing had changed. That he viewed his son exactly the same. But even that hadn’t been enough.

He looks down where he’s holding his paper plate filled with post-Church snacks and realizes he’s crumpling it. But he can’t quite get his hand to loosen. Kids these days. And even thinking that made him feel old but it was true. Kids these days want everything spoken aloud, everything talked about, all mushy, like actions don’t count for anything anymore. It just-- he could count on one hand the number of times his daddy had ever said anything like “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” but he still knew it was true. Of course he knew. His father attended as many of his football games as he could and shook his hand on his wedding day, offered him a cigar when Eric was born...

And, really, he thought he had been being pretty obvious. Right after the Cup, he had started talking about Jack’s goal and his great game and congratulating him and he thought that was clear enough. That if Jack was important to Junior, than he would care about Jack’s sport as much as he could. And then he flew up to see Junior on a week where he could see Junior’s game and they could watch Jack’s game together too. Sure, he referred to Jack as Junior’s friend, but he… he didn’t know if boyfriend was the right word or if they were using partner and, okay, okay maybe it was easier to say “friend��, at least at first. Which, okay, was wrong. But also Junior didn’t even seem to hear the rest of what he was saying. He had gone up there and complimented Jack and Jack’s team and how Jack and Junior worked together and had thought he was being obvious about starting to invite Jack over for Christmas and somehow Junior still ended up yelling at him in the car.

His mouth twists at that. That had been… not good. Not only because Junior had been hurt and crying, but because he’d been angry and yelled and he was pretty sure he mentioned that he had had to find out through the TV, like some stranger and he…

You weren’t supposed to tell your kids when they hurt your feelings. He knows that. He’s… he’s not allowed to get his feelings hurt, anyway, from the sounds of it. From the reading he’s done in the days he’s been back. The internet says that coming out is a personal thing and everyone makes their own decision and, according to most websites, it’s probably his fault. His and Suzanne’s for not being more openly supportive of people when Junior was growing up. For making him feel like he couldn’t tell them. And he doesn’t-- well, he doesn’t remember ever saying anything blatantly rude like that, he figures he’s usually a live and let live type, but apparently all those little things-- microaggressions, the internet calls ‘em-- apparently those add up.

So, again, his fault.

He shifts and swings his head to find Suzanne. It only takes him a moment; his eyes are long used to flicked through a crowd to find someone just her size with that specific hair color. She’s laughing, chatting with Ruby, and from the looks of it, he’s still got a while. Which is fine. He could go find one of the guys to chat with and, as the local football coach, there’s plenty of chatting he could do but he--

He looks as Suzanne and wonders instead. If her feelings are still a little hurt by Junior’s way of telling them. If she feels old and forgotten and replaced by all those friends he’s got up at college. The ones who knew first.

He pops a cookie in his mouth. Feels his stomach twist up as his mind flashes once again to that dumb car ride. And really, how was he supposed to know Junior even cared about his opinion anymore? He had all those friends and Jack and all the Falconers who all spoke out about it afterwards and there had been pictures with Jack’s parents who were there and clearly knew and Eric hadn’t even called them after. Not for hours and hours.

He can’t help but think it wasn’t right. Suzanne had been beside herself with worry and called him over and over and Richard thought he was pretty okay, but he didn’t like when someone hurt Suzanne. Especially not Junior. Those two talked nearly every day, it seemed to him, and it was a hell of a time for his son to suddenly be so irresponsible with his mama’s feelings.

He takes a breath. Lets it go. Those two have clearly made up and there’s no point in fighting someone else’s battle especially if they didn’t seem too torn up about it anymore.

He wishes he had remembered that during the car ride. That he was better at not reacting with anger sometimes. At not getting all defensive. Then maybe the car ride would’ve gone smoother. Maybe that whole mess could have been avoided. And he wouldn’t still feel so embarrassed and guilty about it even though he thinks that maybe he’d finally gotten the message through on his way to the airport.

Yes, thank God, at least that went well. He’s pretty sure. So Junior’s good with Suanne and good with him and Jack is coming down for Christmas so that’s that.

To be honest, he isn’t quite sure what to do next. Junior seems to watch him to talk and ask about Jack, but the internet said to treat the relationship just like any other and he isn’t sure he had been planning on talking to Junior much about girls except for maybe a quick check that they were being safe and he was being honorable and perhaps a “Is she expecting a ring?” or “Seems about time you went out and got one” talk. That’s about all he and his daddy had done.

Other things he’s doing now-- reading up about things on the internet and planning to maybe pop over to the GSA at the high school when he thinks the other coaches can run the beginning of practice without him -- those things don’t come up in conversation much. At least not naturally. So there is no way to tell Junior. Not that he wants to. Would sound too much like bragging or trying to get points for doing the basics. Which, again, the internet tells him is bad.

Watch gay movies (queer cinema, he says in his head, trying it out from what he’d read) is next. He has to make sure he looked completely comfortable with Junior and Jack kissing and the like when they came for Christmas. Luckily, the internet has a list of ones available on Netflix. Though, he’s not sure he’s supposed to talk to Junior about those either. He found one tweet or something in his search that seemed to imply that parents telling or asking their gay children about gay movies is awkward. Like assuming they all know each other.

There seems to be a mighty fine line between not acknowledging that your kid is gay enough and talking about it too much and making them feel all different. It’s a shame he can’t ask Junior for some advice. But he’s already done enough damage. He’ll have to figure this out on his own. He had spoken disparagingly of parades and rainbows in the car because, sonuvabitch, that seems like a hellish way to spend a Saturday, what with the noise and the heat and people all crammed into a small area like that, but if… well if it would help Junior feel better, he could probably do it. For a couple hours. Maybe.

He’ll have to talk to Junior directly more, he decides. Not just wait for major updates to come through Suzanne. He’ll have to--

“Hey, hon,” Suzanne says, stepping in front of him. He blinks and refocuses his eyes and wonders what brought her over. He doesn’t think it’s been as long as she usually stays. “You okay?”

“Wha- yeah,” he says. “Why?”

“Just checking,” she says. “You were just looking pretty intense, that’s all.”

“Just thinking about plans and stuff,” he replies. Not a lie.

“Plans?”

“Football stuff,” now he’s lying. “Game was sloppy yesterday. Gotta tighten up.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, patting his arm. She knows more about football than people assume and she can talk strategy with him when he needs to, but she’s not about to do it in Church. Sometimes she gets enough gossip here to last her the week.

“You ready to go?” she asks.

“If you want,” he replies. “I can stay longer if you want to talk to--”

“No, no,” she says. “You were up at Samwell this week. Let’s head back.”

He nods and accepts it when her path to the exit leads them through the center of the room rather than around the outskirts. There are hugs and kisses on the cheek and he nods and says goodbye when prompted and they are just about out when--

“Oh, the Bittles!” It’s Martha. Her last name escapes him at the moment but it’s not a big deal. He waits for Suzanne to finish her hug and then he leans down and gives her a polite hug as well. “How are you two holding up?”

“Just fine,” Suzanne says. Richard bobs his head up and down in agreement. “Did Todd make it today?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s got that new job so he’s just been busy, busy, busy!”

“Oh well, send him our love,” Suzanne says effortlessly. “And we certainly know what it means to be a bit busy. Especially this time of year!.”

“Oh yes,” Martha says. “It’s always like school starts up again and then suddenly it’s Christmas!”

“With somehow a thousand stressful football games in the middle.”

“Seems the weeks get shorter every year,” Richard adds which is what he always adds during this conversation.

“And the football games get longer,” Suzanne stage-whispers to Martha where it gets its usual short laugh and Richard shrugs to say ‘What can you do?’ and he’s pretty sure they have a clear shot to the door once they finish this one.

“Speaking of,” Suzanne continues and here it is, her exit strategy. “This one’s got to get home to plan for next Saturday so…”

“Of course, of course,” Martha says, waving them on. “Good luck!” and that should be the end of it, except Martha leans in one last time to Suzanne, speaks softly enough that Richard knows the comment wasn’t really meant for him at all, and says:

“We’ve been praying for you, you know. You and little Dicky.”

Suzanne’s smile goes a bit off-center but she is turning the lean into a quick goodbye hug already and moving and--

“Praying for Junior?” Richard finds himself saying. His blood has gone a bit cold somehow. “Why?”

Maybe he meant it to come out confused and dumb-like. It doesn’t. It comes out like he actually meant it: accusatory. Barely polite.

Martha freezes. Suzanne sort of looks at him, her eyes flashing a bit of a warning. He doesn’t know if it’s to not cause drama or to just ignore it but he does neither of those things. He just stands and waits for her answer.

“Well,” Martha says, glancing quickly around, probably to check who is listening. No one really appears to be so far. He hadn’t actually spoken that loudly. “Well, you know, with the… the… you know.”

“No, I don’t,” he says. Suzanne is definitely glaring at him a bit now.

“We’re not judging,” Martha is saying, voice almost a whisper. “We love Dicky. We do. We’re just keeping him in our prayers while he works through…”

She fades out or at least Richard doesn’t hear if she says more because all he can hear is his son worrying that he is messed up somehow, that he needs to be fixed, that he’s anything less than perfect.

“My son,” Richard starts and it’s a bit of a fight to keep his voice even. He clears his throat and tries again. “My son is the captain of his college hockey team, is graduating this May, and is currently dating someone who makes him very happy. A man. His boyfriend. My son’s boyfriend makes him very happy. He just told me. He is very happy.”

Richard takes a breath. Now people are looking. Not everyone, he hadn’t been talking quite loud enough to cause that, but people near them are looking and Martha’s mouth is sort of hanging open and, actually, Suzanne looks a bit shocked himself and suddenly Richard is very aware that he does not want to be the center of attention anymore. If ever.

“I- Well I--” Martha tries to start up again but Richard cannot even express how much he does not want to hear it.

“I reckon you should save your prayers for those who actually need ‘em,” Richard says. “Which doesn’t include my boy.”

He moves then. He doesn’t care what she has to say or what anyone else has to say, and, God help him, he doesn’t even know if he cares what Suzanne has to say, not if it’s something negative or worried about the gossip he just started. He just nods one last time at her because that’s what he does when he walks away from someone and takes a few quick strides out of the room. Then it’s down the hall and hang a left and there.

Outside.

That’s a bit better. Suzanne is right. It does get too hot in there.

He’s just sort of standing there, taking deep breaths, calming down, hands on his hips, when suddenly an arm links through his.

He waits a beat before looking down at Suzanne.

Her grin is blinding.

“You are brilliant,” she says, standing on her tip-toes and that’s his cue to lean over for a kiss on the cheek and he can feel a blush coming on (Junior thinks he gets that from his Mama, but that’s all Bittle). “Brilliant! I wish I had a picture of her face. God, she’s been saying that shit-- excuse my language, Jesus-- that shit for months and I’ve just been ignoring it and you! You just… Brilliant!”

She is bouncing and happy and they walk to the car, arm in arm, like back when they were dating and, alright, let’s not throw a parade or anything, he tells her, well aware that he’s still blushing, but--

It’s a start.

#check please #check please fanfiction #look whos writing again #also i already have TWO MORE ideas about bitty and his relationship with coach changing after this #i shall try to write them ASAP #lest i forget #my fic #richard bittle #coach bittle #canon compliant #bittle familiy feels #coach is a guy trying to do better #also is he just a fictionalized version of my father??#sources say maybe #suzanne bittle #she is also here though not in a major way

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rhosyn-du · 4 years ago

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Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Ten

“Tell me everything,” Magnus said, ushering Raphael into the loft. “What happened?” He could feel Alexander hovering behind him, the weight of their unfinished conversation trailing along with him, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

“We were supposed to meet up by Union Square Park two hours ago,” Raphael told him. “I was going to show Ragnor the Church of St. Francis Xavier. He’s never been, and I know he’d appreciate the stained glass.”

“Have you tried calling him?” Magnus asked, looking for an explanation that didn’t require utter panic. “You know how he loses track of time.”

Raphael gave him a look that told him exactly how stupid a question that was. “Of course I did. And before you say it, Ragnor always picks up my calls.”

“All right,” Magnus said. “He said something about meeting up with Cat earlier for help on that counter-potion, so we’ll start there. If we can figure out where he disappeared from, that will give us a place to start.”

“And if it’s like the other disappearances?” Raphael asked. “There might not be anything to find.”

“Then at least we’ll have that,” Magnus said. It wasn’t exactly a comfort, but it was something.

“I’ll call Jace and Izzy,” Alec offered. “It can’t hurt to have more people looking.”

According to Catarina, she’d left Ragnor half an hour before he was supposed to meet up with Raphael. They’d figured out what was missing from the counter-potion, and Ragnor had been planning to pick up the final ingredient before meeting Raphael so he could start brewing the potion in the morning.

“Do you know where he was planning to get the missing ingredient?” Magnus wanted to know.

Catarina shook her head. “He said he knew a guy. You know how Ragnor is.”

Magnus did, indeed, know how Ragnor was.

“Since we don’t know where he was between, we should start our search at his last known location and at the place he was supposed to be,” Alec said.

“I can take you to where we were working on the potion,” Catarina offered. “Ragnor has multiple lairs, and I think this one is new. I’d never been there before, at least.”

“And I can help search around Union Square Park,” Raphael said, “since I know the area.”

They agreed that each search party should have a warlock, for ease of portaling, and after some bickering that mostly amounted to Magnus not feeling comfortable letting anyone he cared about out of his sight just then, Magnus took Raphael and Izzy with him to search the area around Union Square Park, and Alec and Jace went with Catarina to look for clues at Ragnor’s lair.

As it turned out, having more people did not help, because there were no clues to find.

“This isn’t your fault, you know,” Raphael said quietly as they searched the east side of the park.

“I know that,” Magnus lied. “I’m just concerned about what this might mean. Dorothea knew that Jocelyn got the potion from Ragnor, which means that could be why he was taken. And now that Ragnor knows how to brew the counter-potion, it’s only a matter of time before Valentine is able to wake Jocelyn.”

“Which sucks,” Izzy said, “but she can’t tell him where the Cup is anymore. At least we know that it’s safe.”

“I wish that gave me as much confidence as it seems to give you,” Magnus told her.

The fact was, this was his fault. He’d known that Ragnor was at risk, and he hadn’t done enough to convince his friend to protect himself. If Magnus had been a better friend, Ragnor never would have been alone to be kidnapped in the first place. Magnus would have been with him. He should have insisted on Ragnor staying at his loft and working on the potion there, should have insisted that he go with Ragnor to see Cat. Instead, he’d been at home, making out with Alexander while his friend had been taken by the Circle.

They searched for three hours before Magnus finally admitted defeat and returned to the loft. He’d gotten word from Alec over an hour earlier that they’d finished searching Ragnor’s lair but found nothing that gave any clue as to where or how the warlock had been taken. Alec had gone to the Institute to file an official report on the disappearance but promised to return as soon as he was finished.

It was strange coming home to an empty loft. After only two weeks, Alexander’s presence seemed like such a natural part of the space, of Magnus’s life. He knew they were going to have to finish the conversation Raphael had interrupted, and he was in no way looking forward to it. He’d been dreading it the entire time he’d been keeping the secret, which was why he’d taken so long to come clean. He knew he should have told Alec before the wedding, should have given Alec the opportunity to back out the same way Alec had given him when he divulged the secret about the former Consul’s betrayal. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to risk what they’d been building together. In retrospect, of course, it was obvious he’d just been putting it at greater risk.

Magnus contemplated going to bed. He was tired, and it would give him an excuse to put off the conversation with Alec, but even knowing that things could go poorly, he couldn’t stand to be alone right now. And he needed to know, needed to see with his own eyes, that Alec was safe. It was a little ridiculous, he knew. Alexander was more than capable of taking care of himself, and even if he weren’t, they’d spoken on the phone just before Alec returned to the Institute. He knew Alec was fine, and it wasn’t like Valentine or the Circle had any interest in kidnapping Shadowhunters as far as they knew. But after everything, with Ragnor missing and knowing that Valentine had Dot, Magnus couldn’t help but worry.

By the time Alec returned to the loft, Magnus had changed into his favorite pair of silk pajamas and was curled up on the couch with a fluffy blanket and a mug of hot buttered rum.

“Hey,” Alec said, joining him on the couch, “I’m sorry I took so long. Things got a little messy back at the Institute.”

“Clary?” Magnus guessed, forcing himself to uncurl his legs and sit on the couch like a grown adult who wasn’t in the throes of panic.

“Partially,” Alec said. “And Lydia, and having to justify why I decided to pull two Shadowhunters who were supposed to be on patrol to help look for a missing warlock.”

“But Ragnor was our best chance for finding Valentine,” Magnus said, frowning. And now that was lost, too, because Magnus hadn’t tried hard enough to protect his friend.

“Which I told her,” Alec said leaning back into the couch. “And Lydia agreed, but still insisted that I write out a whole long explanation for the Clave so that no one could second-guess my decision, which I get, but...”

“But you hate that you have to justify yourself,” Magnus finished for him.

“Exactly,” Alec agreed. “But I shouldn’t be complaining about work right now. You must be so worried about your friend.”

“I am,” Magnus agreed, “but honestly, it’s good to have a little distraction.”

Alec put a hand on his knee and gave a gentle squeeze. “We already know the approximate area where Valentine is hiding, and you and Clary have gotten us a ton of intel with the portal shard. We’re going to find Valentine, and everyone that he’s taken.”

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus said, putting his own hand over Alec’s. “I appreciate your confidence.”

“But you don’t share it,” Alec guessed, flipping his hand over to thread their fingers together.

Magnus closed his eyes, appreciating the gesture both for what it was and the reassurance that Alec wasn’t angry enough with him to avoid physical contact, at least.

“I wish I could,” he said. “But Ragnor was our best chance of tracking Valentine. You and I both know that. And now he’s been taken, and I didn’t protect him.”

“It’s not your job to protect him,” Alec said, “and Ragnor might have been our best chance of finding Valentine, but that doesn’t mean he was our only chance.”

“He was a warlock and he was probably in New York when he was taken,” Magnus countered. “That makes protecting him my job. And,” he added more quietly, “he’s my friend. I knew he was in danger, but I let him convince me that he’d be safe on his own.”

Alec didn’t say anything, simply leaned in and pulled Magnus into a hug. Magnus let himself be pulled, nuzzling his cheek against the soft fabric of Alec’s shirt.

“We’ll find Ragnor,” Alec promised. “And Dot, and all of the other warlocks who’ve been taken. And we’ll capture Valentine and throw a goddamn party when the Clave executes him.”

“I didn’t think you liked parties,” Magnus said, trying for some levity. By the way Alec held him tighter, he didn’t think he quite managed it.

“I’ll make an exception.”

Magnus took a deep breath, grateful for the support that Alec offered, and grateful also that Alec offered it without expecting Magnus to look at him while they had this conversation. Magnus didn’t like to hide from his problems, but some things were easier to say if you weren’t facing the person you had to say them to.

“Alexander,” he said, face still firmly pressed against Alec’s shoulder. “About what we were discussing earlier—”

“I don’t care,” Alec said firmly. “Well, I do a bit. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit flattered that I was the reason you volunteered, but I don’t actually care how we got here.” He pulled back so Magnus could see his face and all of the sincerity there. “All I care about is that we are here, together.”

Magnus managed a shaky smile. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I know it might not have sounded like it earlier, but I feel the same way. This isn’t how I would have chosen for us to get together, but now that we are, I can’t regret any of it.”

“I just wish there were more I could do to help you find your friends,” Alec said. “I know how awful I would feel if something happened to Jace or Izzy.” He sighed. “I’m not good at stuff like this. Fighting demons, I can do. But I’ve never been great at this whole comfort thing.”

“I think you’re very good at it,” Magnus told him. “There’s nothing more I could ask for than to have you with me right now. This is exactly what I need.”

“I guess I’m pretty okay at existing,” Alec said with a small smile.

“For which I am exceedingly glad,” Magnus told him. “Although, now that you mention it, there is one more thing you could do.”

“Name it,” Alec said.

Magnus bit his lip. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. It’s just, I think I’d feel better. But you can say no.”

“Magnus,” Alec said, running his hands down Magnus’s arms, “just ask. If it’s too much, I’ll say so.”

“Would you stay with me in my room tonight?” Magnus asked, all in a rush. “I think I’d sleep better if I weren’t alone.”

“Of course,” Alec said, like it was nothing. “Anything you need. Besides, it’s not like sleeping next to you is any big hardship. In case you forgot,” he added with a shy smile, “that’s kind of where I was hoping I’d end up tonight to begin with.”

“That’s a little bit different,” Magnus said, returning the smile. “I hardly think you were hoping for me to cry myself to sleep on your shoulder.”

“No,” Alec agreed, “and I hate that you feel like crying at all, but Magnus, I’m here for you, however you need me.”

“I wish I had the words to properly tell you how much that means to me,” Magnus told him.

“How about you just let me get you to bed, instead?” Alec suggested. “You look as exhausted as I feel, and we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow.”

“I think that sounds like an excellent compromise,” Magnus told him.

Hand in hand, they made their way to Magnus’s bedroom.

Morning came, as it always did, far too early for Alec’s liking. This time, though, he woke more comfortable than he could ever remember being, the bed just the right amount of soft beneath him and gentle fingers carding through his hair.

“I’m leaving you for your bed,” he said, cracking open one eye. “We’ve formed an irrevocable bond, and we’re running away to elope as soon as I’m actually awake.”

“I’m pretty sure bigamy is illegal in New York,” Magnus told him.

“We’ll go to, I don’t know, Antarctica or something. Somewhere no one is going to judge us for our love.”

“Alternate proposal,” Magnus offered. “You stay here, and we can share my bed every night.”

“That’s a very compelling counteroffer,” Alec said.

“I was thinking pancakes for breakfast. Assuming you’re awake enough, of course.”

“Pancakes and coffee?” Alec asked hopefully.

Magnus sighed theatrically. “One night in my bed and already you’re getting spoiled and greedy.”

“Is that really surprising?” Alec asked. “I’d think most people would be spoiled and greedy after a night in your bed.”

“Normally, I’d be flattered by a comment like that, but given that you woke up declaring your intention to leave me for my bed, I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

Alec pulled him into a quick, sleep-sloppy kiss. “Obviously, I prefer the option where I get to have you and the bed.”

“And the pancakes and the coffee?”

“Mmm,” Alec agreed.

“All right,” Magnus said, standing. “You finish waking up, I’ll get breakfast ready, and then we can get to work. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that Biscuit has already texted me with several new ideas for using the portal shard to find her mother.”

“Any of them actually any good?” Alec asked, forcing himself to sit up.

“No,” Magnus said, “but I can’t fault her enthusiasm.”

Alec thought he probably could. Alec certainly could. But he didn’t say so. Magnus seemed much more optimistic this morning than he had the night before, when he really had cried himself to sleep on Alec’s shoulder.

Alec got dressed quickly, feeling a little strange going back to his own room for clothes. He wondered as he did so if Magnus had been serious about him spending every night in Magnus’s bed, or if it had just been part of their banter. He wasn’t opposed to the idea at all, but the past twenty-four hours had been a bit intense, and he didn’t want to assume Magnus had been serious if it was just a joke. They didn’t need that kind of misunderstanding right now, not with as much stress as Magnus was under.

Of course, it wouldn’t be any better to assume Magnus had been joking if that weren’t the truth, either. Probably, he should just ask. They’d had enough trouble not saying what they meant already.

“I hope you like apple butter on your pancakes,” Magnus said as he entered the dining room. “There’s this orchard north of Seattle that sells the best apple butter this time of year, and I couldn’t resist.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had apple butter on pancakes,” Alec admitted. “But I love it on toast, and anyway I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to ruin pancakes.”

Magnus gave him a dubious look. “I’m suddenly questioning your taste in pancakes. It is definitely possible to ruin them. Maybe I should just be in charge of pancakes from now on.”

“I’m never going to complain about my husband conjuring me pancakes,” Alec said, taking his place at the table. “This looks amazing.”

It took Alec several seconds to realize that Magnus hadn’t moved. “What?” he asked, looking up to find Magnus staring at him.

“Nothing,” Magnus said, shaking his head and taking his own seat. “It’s just, I don’t think you’ve ever called me your husband before.”

“Oh,” Alec said. “I’m sorry?” he offered.

“No, don’t be,” Magnus said quickly. “I don’t dislike it. I was just surprised.”

Alec felt a small warmth bloom in his chest at the idea that Magnus liked being called his husband. It was still new and uncertain, this thing between them, but after the confessions of the previous night, he was more confident than ever that they were on the same page. Even if they apparently really hadn’t been to begin with.

It was still a strange thing to try to wrap his head around, that Magnus had volunteered to marry him not out of some long, well-thought out plan the way Alec had, but spur of the moment. And that Magnus had volunteered not just to marry for the Accords, but to marry him, even if he’d thought at first that it wasn’t going to happen. What he’d said, though, about not being able to stand the thought of Alec marrying someone else, that still floored Alec. He’d thought of the same thing, of course, what it would be like if he’d been rejected and he’d had to watch Magnus marry another Shadowhunter. He would have hated it. It was reassuring to hear that they were and had been so close in their feelings this whole time. It made Alec wonder if, had things been different and this marriage for the Accords had never come about, they might have ended up here anyway.

“What are you smiling about?” Magnus asked.

“Nothing,” Alec said around a mouthful of pancakes. “These are really good. The apple butter is amazing.”

“We should visit the orchard sometime,” Magnus told him. “It’s beautiful this time of year, with the trees all heavy from fruit.”

“You know, you never struck me as the kind of guy who was into farming,” Alec said.

“I wouldn’t say I’m into it,” Magnus said, “but it’s interesting to see where food comes from.”

“I’m more interested in eating food than seeing where it comes from,” Alec said.

“So I’ve noticed.”

“You know,” Alec said, “for a guy who conjures all of his food and was just besmirching my pancake-making skills despite never having tasted my pancakes, you’re awfully judgmental.”

“Not judgmental,” Magnus corrected. “Amused.”

“I’m glad I entertain you,” Alec said, stuffing another bite of pancakes into his mouth and washing it down a mouthful of truly amazing coffee.

“Cat is going to meet us at the Institute after breakfast,” Magnus told him. “She recorded everything she could remember from working with Ragnor yesterday, and she’s going to see how close she can get to recreating that counter-potion while we work on finding Valentine and the missing warlocks.”

Alec noticed that he spoke about “the missing warlocks” rather than Ragnor and Dot, and wondered if that was Magnus’s way of keeping himself focused on the job rather than his missing friends. It was something Alec might have done himself in a similar situation.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Alec told him. “Can you work with Clary to see how much more information you can get out of that portal shard?”

Magnus nodded. “That was the plan.”

“I’ve got extra patrols scouting the area Iris identified as the likely location of Valentine’s hideout, but no leads there so far. I’m thinking of taking Izzy and Jace down there and checking it out myself.”

“We could go together,” Magnus suggested.

Alec wanted to argue, to explain that, no, really, he could take care of himself, especially with Jace and Izzy as backup. But then he saw the soft, vulnerable look in Magnus’s eyes, the one he was trying to hide behind his own coffee cup. The same look he’d had when he asked Alec to stay with him last night.

“Sure,” he agreed. If it made Magnus feel better to stay together, he wasn’t going to argue. Not now. “It will be good to have a warlock with us if we find Valentine’s hideout so we can have someone to portal us back when we’re ready to make our move.”

“It might be a good idea to start sending warlocks out with your patrols in that area,” Magnus suggested. “If you think your Shadowhunters would be amenable.”

“Some of them would,” Alec assured him. “And I could make sure those Shadowhunters ended up on those patrols. How many warlocks do you think would be willing to partner with Shadowhunters like that?”

“I’ll have to ask,” Magnus told him, “but for the chance of finding Valentine? I’d wager at least a few.”

Alec was mentally putting together a list of Shadowhunters he knew he could trust to work well with warlocks, along with a secondary list of Shadowhunters he might be able to trust if they got desperate, when the world erupted into motion and sound. It only took him a few seconds to catch up to what was happening—he was a trained soldier after all—but those were seconds he didn’t have, not without his weapons, not as badly outnumbered as they were.

And, oh, they were outnumbered. Alec counted half a dozen warlocks, all sporting the distinctive dark veins Iris had explained were a symptom of Valentine’s serum, and twice that many Circle members pouring through a portal into the loft. He barely had time to recognize one of those warlocks as Ragnor, to see the dawning horror on Magnus’s face, before he threw himself at the closest Circle member.

It was an abysmally short fight. Alec did manage to take down two of the Circle members, despite being unarmed while they were armed to the teeth, but he simply wasn’t a match for so many. Especially not when one of the warlocks used magic to bind his movement.

Magnus managed to hold his own for a few minutes longer, but their attackers had clearly come prepared and with a plan. All too soon, Magnus was subdued, as well, sporting a pair of magic-blocking manacles that Alec recognized from his own Institute’s equipment room.

“Take the warlock back to our base.” Alec recognized Valentine Morgenstern from pictures, though he was far older now than any of the photos in the Clave’s files. “Secure him and heal his wounds. I need him undamaged.”

“You will regret this,” Magnus promised darkly. “I won’t be a party to whatever you’re planning, and I won’t—”

“And shut him up,” Valentine told a short, blonde warlock, otherwise ignoring Magnus completely.

Magnus’s voice cut off immediately, and Alec assumed he’d been magically silenced.

“The Clave will find you,” Alec told Valentine. “They know you’re alive and they will destroy you, and the Circle.”

“Spare me your little speech of defiance,” Valentine said, rolling his eyes. “The Circle has survived longer than you’ve been alive, and it will endure for years to come. Not that you’ll be around to see it, I’m afraid.”

Valentine turned to Ragnor. “Kill this one, and leave the body,” he told him. “Make it messy.”

Alec had barely enough time for Valentine’s words to sink in, to register the abject horror on Magnus’s face, before his world exploded into pain. Then, hours or maybe seconds later, went blessedly black.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic

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angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago

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You Can‘t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 20

“Boy, there's enough red, white, and blue around here to make even old Ferret Face happy.” Trapper's looking around the park with an expression somewhere between awe and contempt. “Don't remember it being quite so...” He gestures vaguely at the flag bunting and the kids waving sparklers and tiny flags.

“What, it wasn't like this last Fourth of July?” Hawkeye finds it hard to believe that America would have been less patriotic during the death throws of the Korean war.

“I didn't go anywhere near any of this shit last year – got stuck with a twenty-four hour shift in the ER.” Trapper sighs. “Between the noise from the fireworks and all the kids coming in with powder burns, I coulda been back at the front.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

The clinic has seen its fair share of kids with burnt fingers – though fortunately nothing worse. And Hawkeye hasn't had the most restful week of his life, either. The constant barrage of fireworks brings back memories of artillery shells and he keeps dreaming about Korea. Just hazy impressions of blood and khaki, but unsettling enough to make him toss and turn half the night.

Trapper nudges Hawkeye out of those thoughts with a brief press of his shoulder. “Course, you were actually over there last year, so I tried not to wallow in self pity too much. I'm sure the coffee you were drinking was way worse than the shit in the ER staff room.”

Hawkeye laughs despite himself. Feels himself relax, despite the crowds, despite the dozens of screaming children – shrieks of laughter so, so close to shrieks of terror and agony. Despite what day it is.

He isn't in Korea. No one is going to die today.

Trapper knocks gently into Hawkeye's shoulder again, clearly reading his change in mood. “It gets to be too much and you wanna go home, just lemme know. Ok?”

Hawkeye smiles, small but genuine. “Thanks, Trapper. But I'm ok, really. And Cathy would never let me live it down if I missed her softball game – I'd lose my standing as favorite uncle.”

“That's true enough, Cathy's absolutely ruthless when crossed.” Trapper grins. “She pretty much single handedly whupped St. John's Episcopal in the interfaith league cuz they wouldn't let a girl play softball.”

“She an adorable little terror. You must be so proud.” And now Hawkeye's grinning too.

By this point, they've managed to fight their way through the crowd to the metal bleachers of the baseball diamond. It's crowded here too – apparently the Fourth of July little league games are a longstanding tradition – but it's a more orderly chaos. The hordes of children are being at least somewhat corralled by their impatient parents.

Except for Becky - who comes barreling out of the ballpark and right into Trapper, managing to knock him backwards a few steps with the force of her momentum. While Trapper's still getting his wind back, she flings herself at Hawkeye in an exuberant hug. He hugs her back, a little bemused – she's not normally so affectionate.

“Thank Christ you're here!” she exclaims when she finally lets go of Hawkeye.

“Don't cuss, Becky,” Trapper admonishes her. Though he's pulled her into another, less violent hug – and it's not like he has much room to complain about bad language.

“Sorry, dad,” Becky says, not looking very sorry. “But we've been here for hours! And all mom and Rob want to do is gossip about boring stuff like who's having babies or what some lady wore to church. At least you two talk about interesting things.”

“Speaking of your ma, she know you're running around loose?”

Becky looks guiltily at the ground and Trapper sighs.

“You better lead us to 'em before Louise sends out a search party. Don't want her to think you've run off to join the circus – though your human cannon ball act is pretty good, just about bowled me over.”

“Sorry dad, Uncle Hawkeye.” This time Becky does look contrite. But she brightens up when Hawkeye and Trapper each hold out a hand for her to take. And then she's tearing off towards wherever Louise and Robert are sitting – the two of them trailing in her wake.

They come up on Louise and Robert a little ways away – though the crowds are thick enough, it takes longer than it should to reach them. Leaving plenty of time for Trapper to watch them as he approaches.

It's still kinda strange for Trapper to see Louise out on the town – especially with a guy who ain't him. But they're friendly enough with one another, if mostly focused on the girls whenever they talk. And Robert ain't a bad guy, even if Trapper finds him unbearably boring. He cares about the girls a whole hell of a lot, and that's worth sitting through him talking about bird watching or the stock market or whatever the hell it is he's talking about now. Proper barbecue technique, by the sound of it.

No wonder Becky ran off.

Even Louise looks glad to see them, her smile a little fixed as she goes to kiss first his cheek and then Hawkeye's. And she's very quick to pull Hawkeye into a conversation about her latest knitting project – apparently Cathy's interest had sparked her own and they all trade knitting patterns now. Trapper smiles as he listens to Becky describe the plot of her latest Nancy Drew novel.

It's funny that it took divorcing his wife for them to find some kinda equilibrium with each other.

And Trapper ain't glad it happened, by any means. Mostly cuz Louise deserved better from him than being a distant shadow of the man she married – and a cheater who'd bedded anyone who'd have him over in Korea. A man in love with his best friend, even if it took him a while to realize.

But he don't mourn the man he used to be. Or see much point in regretting his mistakes. What's done is done – all that matters is the here and now. And this here and this now – a clear summer day, his one daughter sitting next to him and the other waving frantically from the dugout, Hawkeye happy and laughing and here with him – is pretty damn good.

Cathy wins her softball game and they all go out for ice cream after. They still woulda gone if she hadn't'a won, of course, but there's a special air of celebration about it on account of the victory.

After they all mob the ice cream cart – along with about a hundred other families - they cram onto a couple of park benches. The girls are talking all in and around and over each other in their excitement. And Louise is attempting to get them to take turns talking – a lost cause in Trapper's opinion. Even Robert is smiling and cracking some pretty terrible jokes. They're loud enough, some of the people walking past are giving them the evil eye.

But Hawkeye is just sitting there. Silent. With ice cream dripping down his arm.

Covered by the loud chatter of the rest of the family, Trapper leans in and says quietly, “You ok, Hawkeye? You wanna cut this short and head home?”

“Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking.” And then Hawkeye laughs quietly. “You know something funny, Trapper? That first week back home I went out and bought knitting supplies and a gossip magazine and an ice cream cone – strawberry, like I'm eating now.”

Hawkeye pauses to lick ice cream off his wrist and Trapper has to look away.

“It felt like – like this forbidden thing, you know? To go out and buy ice cream. Ice cream! It's not like I was breaking the law or anything – I wasn't even buying booze or a nudie mag or anything questionable – but it felt like I was going to get arrested by the cops for being out without a pass, you know? For daring to buy an ice cream cone without orders.”

Trapper nods.

For all that the army was s'posed to bring freedom to Korea, it was pretty damn thin on the ground – for soldiers and civilians. It had taken him a while to get used to the lack of military restrictions when he got back home, too. A while to get used to feeling like a real person again, able to make decisions for himself, able to set his own schedule.

“I had to remind myself that I was a grown adult,” Hawkeye continues, “capable of running errands on my own – going where I wanted when I wanted, without written permission or a curfew.”

Trapper nods again. “It's funny what a guy can get used to, I guess. What starts to feel normal.” He grins wryly. “Not that you've ever given two shits about being normal.”

Hawkeye laughs. “True enough.” And then he bites into his ice cream cone.

They get invited over to Louise and Robert's house in the suburbs for a Fourth of July barbecue. And the girls are so excited to show their dad and Uncle Hawkeye their rooms and toys and neighborhood haunts that they can't really refuse. So Hawkeye finds himself standing on Robert's meticulously manicured lawn, chatting with a slew of pastel-clad, pearl-wearing housewives while their husbands congregate around the grill to talk about cars and vacations to the Grand Canyon and other boring things. Trapper, meanwhile, has practically disappeared in a pile of roughhousing kids – occasionally breaking free, only to be pulled back under by the teaming mass. And Louise flutters at the edge of Hawkeye's little entourage – pouring drinks and setting out side dishes.

Hawkeye had offered to help – he and Trapper both had – but she'd said they were guests and ought to take it easy. Hawkeye doesn't know that he feels easy, exactly, in this world of matching bungalows and matching skirt sets but he does his best to relax.

It had helped when the women had gathered around him and started gossiping. All he'd had to do was listen and ask leading questions and he could be almost totally silent without looking bored or inattentive – a trick he'd learned on the boat home, back when he didn't really talk all that much. Back when he felt like he didn't have anything to say that was really him talking.

He doesn't feel that way anymore, but it's still a relief when they all sit down to eat and he can rejoin Trapper. Talk about something other than church functions, PTA meetings, and children's play dates. Even if they're sitting at the kiddie table and his time is mostly spent trying to keep the kids from putting potato salad in each others' hair.

It helps settle something in him to be able to see the kids alive and happy and alive. Helps drive home that he isn't in Korea and today isn't going to end like it did last year. And it helps that Trapper is sitting next to him, pressed against him, real and solid and here.

Trapper presses closer to Hawkeye under the pretense of the table being crowded. And there are a whole lotta kids crammed onto one picnic bench. But more than that, Trapper needs the comfort and familiarity of Hawkeye next to him.

Cuz it's strange, being here at Louise's house. Seeing her and the kids having a life here. Seeing them have a life here with Robert and without him.

Don't get him wrong, it's not any kinda life Trapper'd want to live. He ain't jealous or nothing. But it's strange, being here with the people he used to be so close to - but as an outsider to their lives.

At least Louise seems happy here - with her nice big house and her nice boring husband and her nice gossipy neighbors. Trapper's glad Louise is living the kinda life she wants – the kinda life she'd grown up with, grown up wanting. Glad she can have the kinda life he hadn't been able to have with her.

But he's really fucking glad when the night is over and he can go back home to his own life with Hawkeye.

#mash #piercintyre #fanfic archive #you can't cross the same river twice #chapter 20

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blanddcheadcanons · 5 years ago

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I hope that you’re okay, and know hat whatever happens we’ll support you!💜

Can I be brutally honest? I'm really happy you're concerned and again I'm safe I'm just upset and sort of fluctuating. What I am is I'm functioning. I go to work where my coworkers love me and laugh at my jokes and I do what I think is meaningful work in a community of library patrons that are mostly nice. But I just don't have any peers that I can do anything recreational with. And I used to and it was so fun and I took it for granted.

Church was great and really helped me recover from being institutionalized. Plus I learned to feel that thing in your brain that makes you feel connected to god. Now I don't believe in god and lost that feeling. I miss that feeling but I don't miss the doctrine that doesn't make sense or the bigotry that was instilled in us.

College was mostly amazing for me. I'm so proud of my degree. And compared to my friends I'm not in that much debt. God bless the Federal Pell Grant. (you won't hear my father complain about that government handout) I met some amazing people and grew and learned so much. Like when I was a kid I used the campus as a place to socialize and now that's gone. School's over. I'm supposed to socialize and party like an adult. Does that mean I have to drink? I hate alcohol.

I've always been a believer that you don't need to be popular to be happy. You just need a few good friends and that's really enough. Better in some ways. But if you stop texting them and ignore them like me it's understandable if you haven't seen them in a while.

I was never even upset at them. No drama. Nothing like that. Even though I know they like me and I have fond memories with them. I would just feel anxious about communicating with them. And after getting used to texting them late that soon turned to just not responding. And that was easier. The longer I waited the easier it was to forget about reaching out to these friends that mean a lot to me.

I thought it was justified. It made sense. I'm starting a career I really love. But now after learning more about my long diagnosed illness. I realize why I shut down when I should reach out to my friends. Weirdly enough it's the same reason I am such a people pleaser at work. It even explains my love of making people laugh. I suffer from a symptom called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As I understand it when I perceive I've disappointed someone I feel this intense mental anguish. Like I see tiny innocuous criticisms as these big giants flaws in my worth as a person. It's like very sudden too.

Like for instance when I first started my job I made a lot of mistakes and didn't know what I was doing. My boss would correct me and sometimes she'd get annoyed but all in all she understood I was learning and now I don't make those mistakes. The woman who hired me was strict but it meant a lot that before she moved away she told me she made a good decision hiring me and I'll fit in here. But basically she'd approach and inform me of what I did wrong and tell me what I should have done and why I should do it that way. Pretty standard stuff right? No punishment or anything just an instruction. But in my head I'd just feel this intense and sudden self-loathing. There's also this physical sickly warm feeling that just makes me feel like I'm in danger or something. (and I don't mean to shock anyone but I'm just being honest) I'd rashly turn to suicidal ideation where I'm not planning to actually do it but I like fantasize about doing it. And I don't like feeling that way. So I'd just sort of scream in my head to try to think of something else and just do my job until I did enough things right and made enough people happy to just forget it. And it honestly fades away fast. In a couple minutes really.

What that does to a guy like me, is right now in my life is I love making people happy. I love making them laugh or saying things that shock amaze and surprise them. But you can't please everyone all the time. Someone's always gonna be upset or seem upset. And I consistently take it too personally. But yeah that's how I act at work where I go to be professional and get paid. But I've slowly been training myself to just let my personal life atrophy. You can't disappoint people if you don't talk to them. And the thing is I know that's bullshit. I've been social I've had fun. I've left friends' houses feeling better than I arrived. Glad to get out of the dent on my mattress.

But I did a good thing today. There's one guy I still talk to regularly. Mike at my local comic shop. He's an older gay man who I think of as a father figure. He's a joy to talk to. He has that same serving spirit I do. After talking about comics bullshit I decided to open up about how I've been struggling socially and mentally. He was so kind and understanding that when I got in my car I had to just start crying. It was a good cry. Not a suffering cry. Honestly the same way I'm crying now. I see that the walls between me and my friends were constructed by me and I plan to tear them down.

I realize I sound unstable now but I'm just emotional. I promise to make appointments with my therapist and my doctor. I already planned to go to attend my college friend's wedding. That will be good for me. Later I'm running a book club that will be stressful to plan but fun to do. So far two of my coworkers promised to attend because it's scheduled when they're off. I still can't believe I will be paid to do that. But right now I'm just gonna clean my room and watch tv. So things will get better. I love you. I love myself. I deserve to have fun with my friends.

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stagekiller · 5 years ago

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“Those who grant sympathy to guilt, grant none to innocence.” ― Ayn Rand

To cut a long story short, we could conclude that clownman grew up in a toxic environment. And as much as I hate to make him sound like a victim, he...was a victim of circumstance. So, today, we delve into Jerome’s feelings in regards to his past.

Before I begin, I would like to declare that I am very much opposed to any fandom interpretations of his character that present him as a ‘poor wittle baby whose mommy didn’t love him yadayadayada’. This is watering down the character. It’s Bonnie & Clyde syndrome. And my goal in this post is NOT to make you sympathize with him, hence the quote.

Second, small disclaimer; these are fictional characters in a fictional settings. Though it may bare resemblance to things that happen in real life, I, as the mun, by no means condone any actions described.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse, corporal punishment, incest, gaslighting, spoilers

Throughout this post I will be making references to Arthur Phleck, so consider it a spoiler zone for JOKER(2019). These references are mostly used as comparisons in regards to ‘The Joker’s essence and how the victim mentality comes into play in all different iterations of this DC villain, establishing victim-play as a character trait.

PART ONE : ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

To begin with, I want to delve into how Jerome himself sees his childhood, how he feels about these past events and how he chooses to present them to others.

Jerome is someone who hates vulnerability. He is not one to open up or be vulnerable around others where it counts. That is a symptom, or rather, a consequence, of the abuse he has suffered. Child abuse survivors often have severe trust issues, because the people they were supposed to trust (their family) have betrayed them in some shape or form. For example, if a parent baits their child to confess a naughty thing (”If you tell me, I won’t ground you.”) they did and then punishes them after confessing, it is very likely that this child will be more hesitant to confess the next time. After enough repetition, the child may start suspecting other adults of similar behavior. The foundation for a cognitive structure has been laid; “If I trust people with information, they may use it against me.”

According to Mary Ainsworth, the bond between mother and infant is the most important because the child will then base their future attachments on that prototype. In an oversimplification, parents teach us how to bond with other people, among other things. They are responsible for teaching us how to behave socially and how to interact with others. Furthermore, research has shown that children with depressed mothers are more likely to develop conduct disorders, due to the lack of proper interaction and stimuli at an early age.

PART TWO: THESE HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

Now, to put all these things into perspective, in my headcanon, Lila Valeska was very much a depressed mother. A depressed alcoholic, to be exact. A broken woman, looking for self esteem in any embrace that would be offered to her. And, because of that,s he was completely incapable to equip Jerome and Jeremiah with the social skills they needed. She never intended to abuse them. And she wasn’t evil. She just wasn’t enough.

But the problem only begins with Lila. Zachary Trundle very much played the part of her controlling older brother. We can actually see that he was rather controlling in canon, telling her what to do with her kids ( note how Zach told her to throw Jerome in the river but Lila still kept him around ) and being in charge of moving Jeremiah when the time came. We can conclude that Zachary played the part of a father, a brother and potentially a husband substitute as well.

And it was Zachary who molded Jerome into what he became later on. But... more on their relationship on a later post. ;3c

Last, but not least, let’s not forget about Paul Cicero, who not only wasn’t there to console Jerome but also gaslighted him. ( “The world doesn’t care about you” ) He tried to instill the core belief in him that he was unworthy and he should just suck it up. And what that does to kids is usually make them think that they deserve the abuse and not try to escape from it. In Jerome’s case, it also resulted in him abusing himself later on. Because when this kind of situation has been NORMALIZED for you, anything other than pain feels abnormal and weird. Jerome would not know how to react to healthy relationships.

PART THREE: ONE IN EVERY DECK

“Playing the victim role: Manipulator portrays him- or herself as a victim of circumstance or of someone else's behavior in order to gain pity, sympathy or evoke compassion and thereby get something from another. Caring and conscientious people cannot stand to see anyone suffering and the manipulator often finds it easy to play on sympathy to get cooperation.” ― George K. Simon Jr., In Sheep's Clothing: Understanding and Dealing with Manipulative People

All iterations of the Joker have a tragic backstory. Most DC Villains do, as a matter of fact. But how they deal with it differs from one iteration to another. For example, Ledger Joker uses different versions of a tragic backstory to either disturb or gain sympathy from his victims, or to make a point ( ‘you wanna know how I got these scars?’ ). Nicholson Joker uses his tragic backstory as feud fuel and victim cards to pin his misery on Batman. BTAs Joker is shown using some tragic backstory to sway Dr. Quinzel, but later on in the Mad Love episode we see that he’s used the same victim card on Batman too.

But Phoenix Joker is by far the most compelled to play victim cards. The difference with previous iterations is that Phleck Joker sees himself as the victim too. I’m not saying that the others didn’t, to some extent. But Arthur is immersed in the part. He thinks of himself as a mentally ill loner. He doesn’t just use the victimhood card in a manipulative fashion. He actually experiences emotion over it. That is a much more realistic interpretation of what has come to be known as the serial killer victim complex.

I’ve dropped a link to a video of a real life criminal talking about himself and his past actions in a very similar way to Arthur Phleck, here. Please view at your own discretion, it does contain disturbing material.

So how does Jerome view the things that happened in his childhood?

On the show, Jerome uses victim cards in a similar fashion to previous Joker iterations. “ With Uncle Zach, the beatings never stopped...they went on and on, and yet...nobody ever helped me... ” He tells Bruce. For a moment, we see him performing an emotion. But it is shallow. And that is because, as I mentioned above, Jerome hates vulnerability. So, to me, he is somewhat of a combination between Phleck and the previous Jokers.

He will use his tragic backstory for pity points when it is convenient. But does he actually see himself as a victim? No. Because that would contradict his prideful nature! A victim is weak, puny, abused and broken. Jerome can’t be those things, because seeing himself as such would be an ego collapse. Jerome sees his life as a movie. Another soap opera. He removes himself from the reality of the situation. There is a ‘that’s life’ mentality in that too. There’s a ‘my life is a comedy’ mentality in that too. But, unlike Phleck, Jerome doesn’t feel bitter about it anymore.

Even when referencing how he killed Lila to Jim Gordon, or complaining to Jeremiah for abandoning him, the emotional aspect lasts for a minute. Then he starts laughing and making jokes about it. It’s like he wants to distance himself from the reality of the situation. And that’s why he doesn’t use the victim cards in most situations too. Because they would make him look weak and small. And he’s not pathetic like that.

For example, he wouldn’t start talking about his tragic backstory just to sleep with some cult girl. These tactics are RESERVED for very special individuals, like Bruce Wayne and his brother. He would use this kind of thing against people he knows are emotional or bonded with him to some extend. That’s why he doesn’t do it to Jimbo, for example, because he knows Jimbo isn’t as openly compassionate as Bruce, who would feel sorry for him and want to help him.

TO CONCLUDE: Once again my post got huge and if you made it this far, thank you for reading :D I hope I conveyed the general picture adequately to you!

To those who abuse: the sin is yours, the crime is yours, and the shame is yours. To those who protect the perpetrators: blaming the victims only masks the evil within, making you as guilty as those who abuse. Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest.” — Flora Jessop, Church of Lies

#{ headcanons }#{ characterstudy }

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madartiste · 5 years ago

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Deadly Fortune, Book 1, Chapters 1-5

So I started reading the only English translation I could find of the DMC4 “Deadly Fortune” novels to mine them for good character info. I have no idea if anyone else will be interested, but I’ll post the notes I’m taking here. Mostly this is just a retelling of the game, but there are scenes that aren’t shown and some interesting context/internal monologue things to be found. I skipped the first chapter because it was just Dante and Trish being cryptic, and I didn’t notice anything interesting. I’ll post more as I work my way through the novels.

The chapters are referred to as “stages.” Stuff in bold are things I found particularly interesting. Everything is under the cut because I’m a wordy fool and I didn’t want to drown anyone’s dashboard.

EDIT: Forgot the friggin link to where I found the translation: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html

Stage 02 (Pregame)

Kyrie visits Nero (he doesn't live with her). She sometimes brings little gifts to the knights in the barracks.

Nero doesn't know if his arm is poisoned or possessed

Kyrie is one year older, treats Nero like a kid when something bad happens

Kyrie hasn't sung in front of a big crowd before (though she has sung in church)

Attendance at the Festival of the Blade isn't mandatory, so Nero finds an excuse not to go every year -- except this one since Kyrie asks him if he's going and she's performing

Nero's arm was injured one month prior to the game. The demons were in the 'forests of the suburbs.' (Later he says it's Mitis forest, though when he describes getting to the scene he doesn't actually go that far?) Only three knights were sent because the ones that show up near the city are usually weak, but this time there were a lot of them. Nero isn't considered a 'team player,' and he thinks that he is about as far from being a hero as you can get, so he isn't given tasks like that.

Nero is given tasks that require him to work alone and thinks that even the order has secrets he wants to keep. His job is to deal with humans who've been possessed by demons that the Order thinks can't be saved. He is expected to kill them without a trace (OMG!). Basically, the Order doesn't want the people to lose faith in them if a devout follower is possessed by a demon. The people are told that Sparda will protect them, and if they knew the truth it would look bad for the Order. Nero says he isn't happy about killing people, but if no one else will do it, he will, since it's very difficult to save someone who's possessed. So Nero is basically a hit man jeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Another reason Nero is shunned is that he likes using guns. Being the 'Order of the Sword,' they place a huge emphasis on swords. Nero doesn't care about that -- if it kills demons, why not use it? -- and since there are no gunsmiths, he built Blue Rose himself. (He talks a lot about the gun a lot and why he chose a revolver too. Kid knows his guns, though he says he's not a 'serious gun expert.')

The 'dean of the Orphanage' where Nero was raised is an old lady named Sister Xista. (Nero comments that he knows she loves the orphans she works with.)

Kyrie was out in the forest with the orphans on an outing. Ah! She had come back from Mitis forest and was in the city when they got attacked by (30!) scarecrows. Nero runs along the rooftops to get there (and is really casual about it like a normal person could just vault up there and run).

The three knights are Josh (who dies -- poor Josh), Sagan, and Tonio (who seems to be in charge? He's also old fashioned, uncomfortable around Nero, and also 'obsessed with honor.').

Apparently Red Queen is so suped up that if Nero uses it too close to people he could accidentally burn them.

Nero likes that Kyrie is the type of person who would protect other people at the risk of herself but also kinda hates it since she could get hurt.

There's a very interesting passage where Nero thinks about how many of the knights want to become famous and are very into the legend of Sparda, but Nero feels they should be focusing more on the 'good heart of his struggle to protect humanity' part of the story. He also feels they should be less mad at him for jumping into the fight and stealing their thunder and instead comfort Kyrie and the children who were nearly killed.

An Assault pops in through a 'magic array' right behind Kyrie as she's trying to tend to Josh's wound. This is where the "Kyrie, run!" memory from when Nero blacks out in Agnus' lab comes in. Josh tries to defend her, but gets slashed up. His blood actually spatters on Kyrie's face, who is too stunned to react. Nero revvs Red Queen all the way up and jumps at the demon, can't block an attack which is how his arm gets hurt. He burns out the Exceed system so he can't really protect himself. Sagan and Tonio jump in to help while Josh gets Kyrie and the kids away. The demon chases them and injures a kid named Kelly and kills Josh. Nero finally takes it out with his gun.

One of the kids is named Gili.

The Order tries to hide the incident, but since a bunch of kids were involved, it's a bit hard. Josh was an orphan (like Nero), and all of the other adults were forbidden from talking about it. The whole thing seems to piss Nero of since Josh died and Kyrie was injured. He decides to try to get stronger, and apparently Sagan and Tonio have the same idea since they start training a lot.

Nero refers to a building called the 'Sword House' which used to be the Order's HQ until the 'new Faculty HQ' was built. Credo's office is still in the Sword House, and Nero tries to avoid making too much noise on the creaky stairs. Hahaha! Credo asks Nero "How are you so slow?" Credo's got a new mission for Nero -- Nero refers to it as 'dirty work.'.

There's an 'Investigation Bureau' for the Order.

Credo wants the mission dealt with quietly since today is a festival day. He DOES very seriously ask if Nero is okay to fight. Which Nero sarcastically replies "Will someone else do it if I say no?"

Red Queen is out at the 'technical bureau' for repairs because it has a lot of special parts. Credo gives Nero one of the Caliburn swords (the Durandal is the officers' sword type). He also tells Nero not to use his gun because it'll make noise and draw attention. Nero notices that Credo is out of sorts. He's apparently pretty upset about Nero being injured, Josh being killed, and all of it being covered up.

There's some guy named Kars (or Karls? The translation keeps changing his name) who Nero asked to buy that cute necklace for Kyrie. Nero is nice and apologetic for keeping the guy waiting, which throws Kars off a bit.

The Devil Bringer hurts as well as glows when there's a demon around.

Nero beats up a bunch of Scarecrows and heads back to go listen to Kyrie sing. That's literally the only reason he's going since he doesn't actually have to be there at the ceremony.

Okay, so Fortuna Castle is where Sparda supposedly lived when he was lord. It's used as an Art Gallery these days, and citizens are free to come and go as they like. The 'technical bureau' room (the underground lab) isn't known to most people, though, and their purpose is to build weapons to fight demons.

Agnus loves research, teaching, and Sanctus apparently. He also talks to Yamato. It doesn't talk back, but he's mainly complaining to it about not being able to fix the damn thing. He found Yamato a year ago on the outskirts of Fortuna. Even though the sword is only mentioned a few times in ancient books, Angus recognized it right away. In the translation Devil Arms are referred to as Magic Swords -- which might be how the Order thinks of them? In any case, they lost track of Sparda's swords after he left 2000 years ago.

Apparently you can repair Devil Arms. Some repair themselves overtime, other kinds can be fixed if you have the right type of material. Yamato is neither of those. Agnus thinks if Yamato was made from a Devil, then this makes sense -- BUT if that was the case it should've lost all its power when it was broken. Instead, Yamato still has lots of power. He calls the sword 'unpleasant' after yelling at it. Heh.

Gloria shows up with a guy named Greg. Agnus hates Gloria and is apparently a misogynist. As if we need another reason to dislike him. He doesn't trust her and also thinks it's distasteful for women to flaunt their stuff as a 'weapon.' Also Gloria clearly likes harassing him because he's such an uptight jerk.

The Order has never accepted 'foreigners' into its ranks before (hence some of Agnus' distrust). There's a line about the church paying attention to 'the birthplace and family' of its members -- which is interesting. I wonder if that's part of the reason some of the knights are weird about Nero? Because no one knows who his family is…

Gloria told them she was a treasure hunter and that's how she found the Devil Sword Sparda. Agnus thinks the sword is basically a holy relic since it was Sparda's actual sword. She caused quite a stir when she showed up and asked to speak to Sanctus (the knight who met her thought she was his mistress!).

Gloria also brought along the Devil Arms that were used to power the smaller Hell Gates (lol, Trish just swiped all of Dante's stuff!). The real Hell Gate can only be opened with a complete Yamato.

Stage 03 (Start of the game)

Nero bought his headphones from Kars.

Nero thinks the preaching is bullshit. It was Kyrie and Credo and their parents that showed him love and warmth, not some 'sinless' god. He thinks it's weird that their parents were so kind to him, and that it was probably because he has 'silver' hair like Sparda is said to have. There's an interesting line: "I don't have parents, so in their hearts I might be someone who has a relationship with Sparda."

He feels they were good people, if blind and naive, and seems angry they were killed by demons. It happened before he was a knight, and he doesn't know the circumstances. There's a reference to them investigating the ruins in Mitis Forest when they were killed? But that's why he doesn't believe in Sparda -- because why would god let good people like that die at the hands of demons? He also says that he could understand if it was someone like him (!) but not people who were devout, kind believers.

Very Vergil line from Nero: "So, I don't believe in God, I only believe in power."

He also decided to stick around to protect Kyrie, presumably because no god was going to do it.

The necklace Nero bought for Kyrie isn't very expensive. He wanted to thank her for taking care of him and congratulate her on getting to be the soloist at the ceremony.

"The Buddhism of the Pope on the stage continues." That line cracked me up. I assume it just means that Sanctus kept going with his sermon.

Dante shoots Sanctus, everyone panics. Nero doesn't worry about Kyrie dropping her gift since he can just buy her another one if she wants.

Nero's surprised by how fast Dante wrecks the knights since they're trained to fight demons. He mentions that 'many demons have human forms.' He didn't even stop to think before drop kicking Dante. He just wanted to save Kyrie.

When they end up on top of the statue of Sparda, Nero realizes that Dante is way stronger than he is even though Nero is far stronger than a normal person.

There's some surprise from Nero when Dante doesn't care that Credo and Kyrie escape, and he wonders if the 'murderer' has some kind of conscience after all. But he also doesn't care. Dante is clearly amused by this whole thing.

Nero's got an 'auto-loader' for Blue Rose because he has to load two types of ammo.

Nero doesn't use his right arm at first because he doesn't know when reinforcements will show up and doesn't want to have to explain it to them.

Dante doesn't seem to know what to make of Nero's arm at first? He asks if there is 'titanium inside.' Which is weird. Not sure if that's a translation thing or not.

Nero's right hand might actually be stronger than Dante. When Dante goes to staff him and Nero catches Rebellion, Dante can't quite pull away (though there's no indication of how hard he was trying).

Dante says "You too?" when Nero goes to throw the statue's sword at him, and Nero is confused. Dante also says "No, you don't have the smell of garbage," which I assume means he can tell that Nero isn't one of the artificial demons like the other knights.

Ooof. Nero thinks that he's killed humans possessed by demons but he's never killed a living person before. He can't really tell what Dante is, but he's gonna kill him. There's a weird line about how 'some fierce part of my heart awakened' and that he 'must kill this man, just like he is my old enemy.'

Nero isn't thinking clearly when he nails Dante to the statue and is a bit freaked out by his own reaction.

Nero's reaction to Dante surviving being impaled: 'This is a very outrageous guy.' Hah!

There's more made out of Dante saying that he and Nero are the same in the book. Dante out says "I am not human, are you not the same?" and Nero replies "I am… human," but he hides his arm and is shaken up by the question.

Dante still yeets out through the ceiling, but he calls Nero "little devil" when he leaves. It's kinda cute.

Nero's never met a demon that can understand human language. Evidently it's mainly the powerful ones who can. He worries that he might be a demon after all. The reinforcements show up before he can go check out the dead Order knights to confirm that they're not human. He wonders if he just imagined it, but knows that asking questions won't get him anything.

Switch to Dante POV. Sparda told his boys stories when they were little, though it seems like he left when they were still too young to really grasp everything or to think it was weird that their father was a demon. A lot of the stories of Sparda are considered just fairy tales and legends, so it's hard to piece together what he was really up to for those 2000 years before he met Eva.

The wording is strange, but Dante seems to realize that Vergil likely came to Fortuna to investigate legends of Sparda. After thinking it over, he laughs off the thought that Nero could be Vergil's kid.

Trish is 'very concerned about punctuality' and Dante has to go to the castle to meet her.

Back to Nero: He wants to go back to the dormitory and rest (what a mood), but Credo wants him to chase down Dante. Nero actually thinks he's not sure he can do it.

There's someone named Claude who's Durandl Nero was using? It just references "Claude's Durandl' being a very good sword.

Fortuna is surrounded by a solid wall, and there is only one exit by land. It's in the opposite direction of the Opera House and… the Fortuna duna? (Maybe the docks?) The Order keeps an eye on the ships in the port, though, so Dante can't escape that way.

Awww, he thinks the necklace suits Kyrie.

Demons attack the courtyard outside of the Opera house. Demons in Fortuna aren't rare, but having so many is. Also Nero has never seen them in the center of the city before in his 'few years as a knight.' Nero wonders if Dante is responsible. The plan is to take the citizens to HQ to keep them safe. (I get the feeling that the layout of the island is not so spread out as it is in the game. Either that or headquarters is actually a mistranslation.)

Nero mentally gushes about how great Kyrie is, that she'd even protect someone who treated her poorly. The boy is totally smitten. More very Vergil type thoughts: 'compassion without power can't change anything.' He decides he will be strong so that Kyrie's compassion isn't wasted. (Awww).

Nero deliberately breaks the archway to keep the demons from getting to the people. He ends up having to take the long way to get to HQ because the road is blocked

Stage 04 (Sanctus' resurrection and Berial)

'The room on the uppermost corner of the Magic Swords Corps' is Sanctus' bedroom. I'm assuming this is in the HQ building since this scene analogous to the one in the game where Sanctus is resurrected in the 'Ascension Chamber.'

Hahaha! Sanctus refers to Dante as an "awful guy." Okay, he apparently knew that Dante might come after him, but didn't expect him to drop into the middle of a big ceremony. He's also annoyed that he was killed in front of all the believers.

Agnus and Credo clearly don't like each other. Credo deliberately says some things to piss him off and Agnus absolutely takes the bait.

There's some strange wording, but my interpretation is: Credo partly sent Nero after Dante to make the kid look good. He knows that Nero isn't respected by the Order, but Credo thinks Nero is very strong. There's a comment about the Ascension Ceremony -- which Credo is convinced Nero could survive despite the low success rate (it says only 10 people survived, but that doesn't seem right). Evidently Credo wants to help Nero get in everyone's good graces to prepare him for the ceremony (Credo! Wut r u doin'?!)

Also Credo doesn't think there's any point in reasoning with Agnus. He really doesn't like him. Sanctus has to be the adult. He has some good skills in that, having to get all the different personalities in the Order to work with each other.

Agnus is a giant Sanctus fanboy. He's also easily excitable, which both Sanctus and Credo comment on.

Back to Nero: Lots o' demons in the city. He's very confused. Certain places are easier to open a Hell Gate than others. The translation is confusing here, saying it's easy to open a 'cave' in the area around 'Fodu.' I'm assuming that it means you can open portals to the Underworld easily on Fortuna?

Nero is pretty sure Rebellion is a powerful Devil Arm since he felt something in his Devil Bringer when he touched it.

Fortuna Castle was built up in the mountain because the people of Fortuna didn't want to destroy the environment. They do a lot to try to preserve the state of the island as close to how it was when Sparda was there. Nero thinks Sparda wouldn't care if they made their lives more convenient by modernizing things. (Pretty sure he's right.)

They refer to the big Hell Gate in the city as 'the monument.' Nero is surprised to find one in the Ferrum Hills.

Nero can tell how strong a demon is by how much his Devil Bringer hurts.

Hahaha! He thinks that Berial's sword is 'a little pitiful.' There's actually a nice illustration of Nero facing down Berial.

Nero seems convinced that Dante is a demon when he hears Berial also speak in a human language. There's a weird phrase: 'a lovely type of chat in the demonic race.' I'm not sure what that means.

Nero doesn't like heat. He's also annoyed (?) that Berial just ignored him because he's a human. He also calls Berial old. Also, oh snap, he quickly realizes that Berial is no threat to him, though at first he's a little worried. Nero thinks Berial is weaksauce compared to fighting with Dante. Berial also calls Nero "little devil."

Berial is surprised by Blue Rose. He's never seen a gun before. Nero's ticked that Berial has stronger fire than Red Queen.

Nero has been avoiding thinking about his arm too much, but fighting Berial makes him realize that his power is definitely like a demon's. Berial demands to know if Nero is human or not, and Nero's response is basically "I'm a special case." After Nero beats him up, Berial says he's sure that Nero is a devil, though Nero now denies it.

Berial gives him a weird look and says "Neither a demon nor a human being… that's it. You are like him." And then yeets into the Hell Gate because he knows he can't beat Nero without a refresh.

Nero apparently tries to destroy the Hell Gate but can't. He decides to move on, and wonders if the 'him' Berial was talking about is the man in red -- Dante.

Stage 05 (Fortuna Castle and Bael)

Dante POV: He's running around the castle to find Trish. She didn't tell him where to meet, only when. He wonders if Sparda really lived in such a place because there are only normal human things lying around and not Devil Arms.

He pops by the library and grabs a book off the shelf (Nero in the game comments on Dante having been there), but can't read the language. He feels like someone is watching him and calls them out. It's Trish who didn't want to startle him because she looks different. Dante feels the library suits Trish because 'she has a strong desire for knowledge.' (Interesting.) She doesn't actually show her Gloria disguise to him here.

Trish tells him where Yamato is. Dante wants it back because it's a memento of both his father and brother. There's a nice illustration of Dante and Trish.

They decide to deal with the Order before grabbing the sword since it's broken and they can't use it. Dante decides to poke around the castle a bit more, though Trish correctly guesses he's looking for anything that might have belonged to his dad.

Back to Nero: It seems like Nero hasn't been up to Lamina Peak (It's also called the Holy Mountain) before. He thinks the snow might be normal, but isn't sure. Tourists are rare, but the Castle is a big draw.

So the complicated route to get to the castle might have been to make it hard for enemies to get there in the Middle Ages. But he says the bridge is 2000 years old in the next sentence, so… Not really the Middle Ages.

Nero is actually pleased the bridge gets broken because it gives him a shortcut he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. Fights the Frosts, thinks they can't be the cause of the snow because they're not that kind of demon.

Nero is sure Gloria isn't from Fortuna, and he definitely notices the saucy clothing. Fortuna ladies don't dress like that. He mainly wants to know who she is. He has no idea why his Devil Bringer is still hurting after the demons are defeated, and wonders if that means the woman is a demon.

He hides his Devil Bringer from her -- which is why he doesn't shake her hand. She knows who he is, which means she's a knight, so he assumes that his arm is reacting to other demons nearby.

Gloria lists his nicknames: "'The bad bird to get along with', the arrogant atheist''

He's not surprised.

Ah, he turns away when she puts the knife away because he's being a bit polite and kinda doesn't want to get flashed.

Oh, he HAS been to the Castle, but he can't remember when. It was at least 3 years ago, before he was a knight. He doesn't like the place because of the 'damp air.'

He thinks maybe Dante came here to steal art (hah!).

Nero can't completely read the book Dante was looking at either. He knows enough to pick out that it's about demons, though, and he thinks that it might help him understand what Dante is after.

He's never seen the Bianco Angelos before, and figures it has to be a new weapon of the Order. Nero seems to think the guy in the armor is just a jerk messing with him.

Nero isn't even slightly tempted by Bael's sexy ladies -- the translation uses the word 'goblins' for them. Like Dante says in the game, Bael smells pretty bad. Also Nero can barely understand what Bael is saying, his human is so garbled. Bael also calls Nero "little devil" when he dies.

Link to the next part of the notes: https://madartiste.tumblr.com/post/186824600040/deadly-fortune-book-1-chapters-6-11

#devil may cry #dmc4 #deadly fortune #My notes

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mmoozzee · 5 years ago

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Thanks to @lesliealiceinwonderland for Venmoing me $1.00

Q&A beneath the tab

1. What is your middle name? I have two! Robert after my father's best friend and Belew which is my grandmother's maiden name 2. How old are you? 20 3. When is your birthday? April 21st, 1999 4. What is your zodiac sign? Taurus, people tell me this is accurate but I think horoscopes are dumb 5. What is your favorite color? Like a silvery grey. I like certain accent colors at different times, but grey is consistent to me 6. What’s your lucky number? My old dorm room number: 213 7. Do you have any pets? My parents have a cat but I don't really think she counts as mine anymore 8. Where are you from? Orange, Texas, a town I am very proud of despite how much I complain. 9. How tall are you? 6'3" 10. What shoe size are you? An 11.5, but I can fit a Nike 11 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Six, consisting of three sandals, two Brooks tennis shoes, my grandfather's oxfords, and a pair Nike gave to me for reasons 12. What was your last dream about? Clothes that I could never wear or afford 13. What talents do you have? I can make friends with almost anyone very quickly. 14. Are you psychic in any way? I'm just gonna guess No 15. Favorite song? Right now? I Got The by Labi Siffre 16. Favorite movie? Either The Martin or The Secret Life of Walter Mitty 17. Who would be your ideal partner? This question deserves its own post, remind me later. 18. Do you want children? I'd probably adopt if I did 19. Do you want a church wedding? I want a small wedding with a few choice friends 20. Are you religious? I am very spiritual but less religious. I am a Christian but have many issues with the Church and the current Christian movement 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Not as an adult besides check-ups 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Not Yet 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? I once got pushed by Alex Jones 24. Baths or showers? Showers, I don't have the attention span for a bath. 25. What color socks are you wearing? Knee-high black socks, like always. some habits die hard 26. Have you ever been famous? I'm trying. 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? That's the goal. I'm working on it, but I want to become a person that inspires people to strive to become a better person. 28. What type of music do you like? I have no idea how to tl;dr my music taste. I like what I like, I don't what I don't 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No, but it sounds so relaxing 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two. One for my head and one between my legs 31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my side with my legs bent because I'm tall 32. How big is your house? I'm in an apartment with two others and a loft 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Nothing 34. Have you ever fired a gun? Yes, a pump-action twelve gauge is my weapon of choice 35. Have you ever tried archery? Yes, I'm okay at best 36. Favorite clean word? llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch or defenestration 37. Favorite swear word? Fuck. It's definitely the easiest to go to. 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? Two days? I can't remember. 39. Do you have any scars? Yes. A few accidental, some not so accidental. 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? If so, I'd like them to come out and say it. 41. Are you a good liar? Depends on how important it is that they believe me. 42. Are you a good judge of character? I'd like to think I am 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? I'd like to think I can 44. Do you have a strong accent? Only if I'm talking about East Texas, then it hits hard. 45. What is your favorite accent? Whatever David Tennant has. 46. What is your personality type? INTP-t apparently 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? My navy suit. that's a 3-figure number. 48. Can you curl your tongue? Yes 49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie 50. Left or right-handed? Ambisinister 51. Are you scared of spiders? No, they're lovely! I just don't like if they sneak up on me 52. Favorite food? Raising Cane's chicken, not sure if it's really my "favorite" but it is my most eaten meal for this summer 53. Favorite foreign food? Takoyaki 54. Are you a clean or messy person? Messy, my floor is currently covered in clothes. I want to be clean, but ugh 55. Most used phrase? "Fun Fact" followed by a piece of information I find really cool. 56. Most used word? "Nice", it's a useful adjective 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? Depends, to go get food? 10 minutes. To hang out with friends? 30. 58. Do you have much of an ego? Only about being right. I get super ashamed to be wrong about something. 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Suck, biting cuts the experience short. 60. Do you talk to yourself? All the time! It's both one of my biggest distractions and ways of focusing. 61. Do you sing to yourself? Sometimes when walking. 62. Are you a good singer? No 63. Biggest Fear? Failure 64. Are you a gossip? I prefer "Information Broker" 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Interstellar is the most dramatic I remember. Love that film. 66. Do you like long or short hair? On me? I think I can only pull off short, but on others either is great. 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? I think I can name most of their capitals too. 68. Favorite school subject? History 69. Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert with the face of an extrovert. 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Yes 71. What makes you nervous? Money/Crowds/Authority Figures/My Future 72. Are you scared of the dark? Only in places where I haven't been before 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Only if it would be beneficial. 74. Are you ticklish? Unfortunately 75. Have you ever started a rumor? I'm sure I must have. 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Yes, but mostly as a second-in-command 77. Have you ever drank underage? Yes, Jack Daniel's Honey-Whiskey is my favorite, but I don't drink often. 78. Have you ever done drugs? Other than some weird hormonal herbs I got from Asia? No, well weed once but nothing happened so I think I did it wrong. 79. Who was your first real crush? Our resident horse girl, but my first Real crush was this cute guy from colorguard who I occasionally dreamed of sleeping with. 80. How many piercings do you have? Zero. Believe, I'd change that, but my current career path doesn't let me have any fun with my body. Got to look like a cis straight dude in this economy and I loathe the very notion that I don't get to break out of that box without losing political capital in the eyes of strangers that I'd be working for. 81. Can you roll your Rs? Yes 82. How fast can you type? Decently fast 83. How fast can you run? Decently slow, like a 10-11 minutes mile 84. What color is your hair? Brown, not that I want it to stay that way. See: Q80 85. What color are your eyes? Brown with a tint of green 86. What are you allergic to? Nothing I think 87. Do you keep a journal? I should. Life gets better when I write things down. 88. What do your parents do? Father teaches biology and is the energy specialist for the district. Mom is a principal. 89. Do you like your age? I'm ok with being 20, sure beats 90, but I feel like I slept through junior high. Love to try again. 90. What makes you angry? People who litter. The love of money. and Tribalism. 91. Do you like your own name? It's ok. Don't think I would have chosen it, maybe Kyle instead, I'd have to think about that more. I do like my Surname. 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? Not really. Sasha or Alexander perhaps. 93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? I just want them to live well and live with ambition. I don't care what their birth certificate says. 94. What are your strengths? Ambition, hard-working, out-of-the-box thinking. 95. What are your weaknesses? I'm nervous, I procrastinate, and I am SUPER distractable 96. How did you get your name? It's biblical 97. Were your ancestors royalty? If they were, I revoke my claim to the throne. This nation doesn't stand for a monarchy, or at least it shouldn't 98. Do you have any scars? Yes. A few accidental, some not so accidental. 99. Color of your bedspread? Black, but I have a green quilt and this wonderful Minecraft fleece 100. Color of your room? Beige, I f#cking hate beige

#asks #QnA #Questions

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

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Survey #198

“i woke up on the wrong side of my floor.”

What do you get tired of having to explain? It's not something asked frequently at all, but since I had to to new doctors and ER workers etc., I'm not a fan of re-telling the break-up story with Jason. What perk of being “grown up” lived up to your childhood expectations? Independence, though I. Don't act on it much with my dependent ass. Who is your least favorite character in the last show you watched? Shoot me, Sara and Con, but so far Zuko as a villain doesn't impress me. If you weren’t in a relationship with your significant other (or last) and you met them for the first time tonight, would you hook up with them? I wouldn't "hook up" with anyone. Is there a place that makes you sad to return to? It's just better for me to stay away from the place Jason and I took our first prom pictures. I actually returned there last fall to take pictures however; I was fine, but it still felt weird. What is the most morally questionable thing that you’ve done? Idk. Has anyone ever surprised you by changing when you didn’t believe that they could? Dad, 100%. What is the best advice a sibling has given you? Something from Ashley regarding the break-up when I was starting to recover, but I can't remember exactly what. Was there an opportunity that you feel like you missed out on in high school? Hm... thought about this quite a bit, and I actually don't think so? I mean I wish my mental health had been better, but I overall had a fair experience. What was the biggest lie you’ve told a significant other? Idk, it's just about impossible for me to tell an s/o a serious lie; or small ones, for that matter. Maybe that I wasn't mad about something when I was? Idk. Have you ever treated someone badly because someone else treated you badly? I'm sure I have at some point, just not deliberately. What is your favorite lyric from your favorite band? Don't- What is the worst thing you’ve said or done while PMSing? Boy, I've done some dumb shit. Probably self-harm (no, it's not something I do now). Did you have an irrational childhood fear? Oh, I'm sure. None are coming to me now... Well, do you consider serious separation anxiety "irrational?" Do you and your significant other have ‘a song’? What is it? Oh boy, a lot. "Pretty Woman" by Van Halen and Paramore's "The Only Exception" get me the most, though. Do you ever give things away to your friends? Don't really have anyone to do that with. Is there anyone’s friendship or relationship, in particular, that makes you jealous? Nope. Well, it'd be absolutely incredible to have a friendship (so in this case, not counting Sara) like Rhett and Link. I'm not even remotely kidding, they were the ones that made me question my former, humiliating outlook on homosexuality because my heart just yelled at me to ship them & I still do lol. Do you have anyone’s tweets sent directly to your phone? Whose? No. Have you ever caused a lot of noise in a library? No. Do you complain a lot? Eh, depends on the day and subject. Have you ever been to a music festival? Yes, but only to take pictures for a photography class. What was the last thing that completely took your breath away? The blood wolf moon. I stayed up 'til like, 2-3-something to see totality, and it was fucking incredible. I hadn't seen a full lunar eclipse since I was a kid. If your life was a movie, what would it be rated? R, probably... mostly due to excessive cursing lmao. Are you more of a talker or a listener? A listener. Have you ever called in at a radio station & dedicated a song to someone? No. Would you ever go to a protest or be involved in a protest? Sure. When playing rock, paper, scissors which do you usually pick? I think scissors. Have you ever tried to write a book? Yes. Have you ever been hit by a chunk of hail? Maybe a small one? Would you ever try any extreme sports? No. Is it true that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love another? I've always found that idea as absolute and utter bullshit. Do you ever try making your dream up before falling asleep? I just daydream; I don't like, actively hope it'll transfer into a legitimate dream. Ever been on a golf cart? Yes. Have you ever slapped someone in the face? No. Last person you took a nap with? Sara. Are you embarrassed by anything you have in your bedroom? No. Is your last ex currently in a relationship? Not to my knowledge. Has anyone ever given you roses? Yeah. Would you rather have your parents catch you having sex or smoking weed? asjfpawe quite honestly, smoking weed. The former would probs kill me. Do you owe anybody money? No. How many times have you gotten into a argument with the last person you kissed? Now as adults and not stupid kids, just a handful. Maybe just one or two serious ones. What’s the most positive thing anyone has ever said about you? When I actually had a brain, compliments I got regarding my intelligence meant a lot. Maybe there's something else, but that's just the first that came to mind. What’s the most positive thing you would say about yourself right now? I'm very empathetic and care a lot about cheering people up. Have you ever been to church? What was it like? I grew up going to church, and at no point in my life did I enjoy it. When I was old enough to not be forced to go, I quickly stopped, even when I was still religious. What’s your favorite thing to do on a sunny day? If it's not hot, swim. How many different drugs have you tried? None that weren't prescription. List each drug, and how it made you feel. N/A Which drug do you consider to be your favorite (including alcohol)? Well, I don't even like the taste of alcohol... but I guess that has to be the answer as it's the only one I'll ever indulge in. Who have you had sex with in order from best to worst (you can use initials if you want)? Only done it with one person. What’s your favorite kind of alcoholic beverage? Margaritas. Do you feel like different alcohols have different effects on you? No. Honestly, how good do you think you are in bed? What about oral? Eh, I'm shy, but I don't think I'm bad. It was good enough to get the job done, at least. I fucking hated oral so therefore rarely did it, so idk. What’s your biggest thing you want to accomplish? Overcoming my hard-as-diamonds anxiety. Three favorite candies. Go. Reese's. Sour Punch Straws. Peach rings. What was the last stupid thing someone talked you into believing? Idk. What’s a song that would describe your life at the moment? I legit feel "In The End" by Linkin Park pretty deeply of the late. Man, somehow been a year and still R.I.P. Chester. ;_; What was the last thing that you shared? Idk. Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? I love cold pizza. Where are you the most ticklish? FEET. When you’re wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? I don't have them. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Maybe Vulpix. Small and cute and isn't like, actually on fire. Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? No. When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? At a VR class when I was talking and completely lost my train of thought and caused like five awkward silences. If your bedroom walls could talk, what would they most likely say? "Bitch u ever move?" Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? Yes. Have you ever seen a movie that was better than the book it was based on? Maybe? I'm unsure, but I doubt it. Did you like the show Invader Zim? I never really watched it. What’s the greatest/most influential song you’ve ever heard? Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait." Have you ever bought yourself a present at Christmas? I mean, I've been given money to buy something myself. Is there someone that you’re mean to for no good reason? No? I have damn good reason to be unfriendly to Bentley, but not mean. What was the last thing you got out of the freezer? A rat for Venus. How many people signed you latest yearbook? Not too many, but I didn't ask a lot to. How is your mom today? Probably the same as always: Tired and stressed. Do you prefer long or short hair on the opposite sex? Generally, longer hair. But of course it varies on the person. Would you swap your first name for your middle? No, that would sound so weird. Plus I like my name. Would you rather have 10 siblings or be an only? Hm... growing up as an only child would suck, I think. Ten is a hell of a lot, but I'd prefer that over none. What is your favorite soda? Mountain Dew Voltage is my Achilles' heel. Do like country music? No. It's seldom I'll like any. Tim McGraw impresses me most of the time, though, but not to where I'll go look up a song and binge it. Are you afraid of black cats? Not at all. Do you watch the lightning during storms? No, I stay inside. If I'm in a car though, I keep an eye out. Do you like Scentsy stuff? Sure, but I don't buy anything from it. Do you like House? Never seen it. How many tracks were on the last album you listened to? Idr. Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? Probably Dad. The way he interacts with some people is kinda... weird to where people may feel like he's being rude, when he in no way intends it. You can tell some people don't get him. Are there any songs in your iTunes library that you’ve never listened to? No. Who is the most intelligent person you know? My psychiatrist probably qualifies as a genius. Who was the last female you were introduced to? My personal VR coach. Who was the last male you were introduced to? I have no idea. Who is that last person who harassed and annoyed you? I feel like it was some kid that annoyed me, but idr. Who is the last person who made you feel hurt? Probably Mom. What was the last thing you were worried about? My job future. Are you worried about anyone now? Not really. What time of day feels the most magical to you? Early morning, especially when it's dewy with a light mist and a pink sky as the sun starts to rise... whew. Love it. Who are you jealous of? My sisters and an old friend that's a professional photographer now. What is the last physical ailment you took medication for? Nausea. If you are a YouTuber, are you behind on posting videos? N/A Who is a great YouTuber you have recently discovered? Not really anyone recently. What color is your bathrobe? I don't have one. What is a great pain reliever? Depends on the pain? Are you interested in a guy who has a girlfriend? No. Do you sell any products? If so, what do you sell? No. Are you responsible with money? I believe so, having learned to be very frugal from growing up poor. My weakness is tats, though... I have to make a genuine effort to save for other things. Are you responsible in general? Not very, honestly... but it also depends on what I have responsibility over. Do you use a nightlight? No. Kaiju's and Venus' lights stay on, however, if you wanna count that. Do you have a girl that is strictly a friend that isn’t related to you that you can go to? Not really. Are you “the good guy”, or “the bad guy”, or somewhere in between? I guess the good guy? Have you ever watched the original British Skins? No, nor the American. It disgusted me. Do you like Oreos? Hell yeah. Have you ever had a sex dream about someone you barely know? I don't believe so. Were you a cute baby? I was, dude. Would you ever shoot someone right in the face? If it was in self-defense with someone trying to seriously hurt or kill me, that's right where I'd aim. Have you ever sold drugs? No. Have you ever been shot? No. Are you on good terms with your parents? Yeah. What’s your opinion on border control? It's necessary for the protection of our country. I'm totally for legal immigration, mind you. Have you had any major tragedies in your life? I'd say one event qualifies. What do you think of open casket funerals? No opinion, I think... A part of me feels like the risk of someone disrespecting the body isn't worth it, but simultaneously I firmly feel the actual family and those very close to this person have the right to see them one final time looking at peace. Have you ever had a pet rat? Quite a number. I had two pairs where three died of unknown causes, while one developed cancer and passed. Went through two that died last year; one had to be sick upon adopting her, as she passed very quickly, and her sister immediately followed suit. Adopted Mitsu, later another to try to give her a partner (rats are social and aren't supposed to live alone), but she'd already grown territorial, so the sweetheart had to be returned. Now I just have Mitsu. Could you go a year without sex? It's already been three, and longer wouldn't matter to me. Have you ever wore pajamas a whole straight week? I'm just about always at home in my pj's, and considering I leave like, never... but not the same pair that long. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? The fuck, no. Are you more of a taker or giver? Giver. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? I have permanent scars on both shins from that; my skin becomes unbearably itchy after I shave and then scrub my legs in the shower. Nothing seems to stop it. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? No. Have you ever been chased by a cat? Playing with kittens/juveniles, probably, considering just how many we've had throughout my life. Have you ever had your food stolen by a bird? No. Have you ever dyed your hair light auburn? No. Do you take really good care of your feet? Run now w/ potential TMI: My feet are like. Nothing but thicc calluses from when I would walk like crazy. I haven't been able to get rid of them for nothing, and it's been YEARS. Like, I probably need a professional for this shit lmao. My nails are fine and I keep them clean, it's just the callus ordeal. Is the snow where you live the icey kind or powdery kind? It can be either. Do you get blizzards where you live? I think we've only had one that qualified in my entire life. Can't remember if the wind was bad... What’s the coldest you can remember it ever being? With the wind chill, it was actually around 2 degrees, I think. When was the last time you did something rebellious? Um. Idk. What are your favorite things to create? OCs. What’s an old hobby that you want to pick back up? Reading. :/ Do you ever read books to a pet? No. Which has better craft supplies: Dollar Tree or Dollar General? I have zero clue. Which dollar store do you shop at the most? I think Dollar General? What color is your trash can in your bedroom? I don't have one in here. What was the theme of your childhood bedroom? Baby animals. What color was your nursery as a baby? Idr. What was the last surgery you had? A cyst removal. What’s something you prefer to keep private? Lol yeah, ask that on a survey I'mma share with the Internet. What is something cheesy your high school’s principal has said? Idr. I don't remember much of him other than he was a goddamn ass. Are you more of a rule breaker or rule follower? Depends, but typically, a follower. Are you good at prioritizing? Idk. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? HALLOFUCKINWEEN If you’re not religious, were you ever? What made you lose faith? I was raised religious, but just life in general brought me to just theism, which I don't really consider a "real" religion. Is there a particular tradition that you follow from your heritage? No. What are your thoughts on where feminism is today? Yo calm your tits. How would you describe your aesthetic? Likes pastel and soft things but is also gore-crazed and obsessed with dark shit that'll probably lead me to Hell. Are you at all interested in philosophy/theory? If so, what philosopher/theorist caught your attention? If not, would you ever consider reading any? YES; however, as someone with OCD that heavily manifests itself as incredulous ruminations to the point I face breakdowns, I try to avoid philosophical debates. No one in specific has caught my attention, but I mean, I haven't exactly made an effort to learn about anyone. Have you ever played any virtual reality games? What was that like? If not, would you ever like to try? No, but I would LOVE to. Is there anything about technology that scares you? The potential it has to reaching some form of sentience the more and more we advance with it. I ain't about that singularity shit. What’s a song that you know that does a lot of wordplay or anything that you find clever? Shit dude, lots of Otep songs. She can make rhymes and such with the creepiest shit. Bring me back the Otep whose music wasn't just political ranting, please. What do you do before you go to bed? The last thing I usually do is DragonVale. Where did you last go out to eat? Hardee's. Do you have unlimited texting? Yeah. Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst? Jason or Girt. Girt came to the ER after my suicide attempt, my lowest of low points, while Jason saw me in absolute hysterics the night of the break-up when I said something suicidal so he came here briefly. I feel each was like... a different kind of "worst," if that makes sense. One was absolute, utter defeat, while the other was seeing a human absolutely shatter. Have you ever won anything from the radio? No. Will you keep your last name when you get married? No. What song are you listening to? Shane Dawson's "Fuck Up" is a Big Mood. Do you know anyone whose name starts with an X? Not that I know personally, I think. When was the last time you took a picture with your pet(s)? Roman like over a month ago, Venus a while before... I rarely take pictures including me because I'm ugly. Who’s your favorite Muppet? I don't know like, any. What’s your favorite monster? (can be Monsters Inc., horror films, stories, or myths, whatever) These are too many options man. I guess probably Pyramid Head. But I'm crazy for cryptids too man, I love me some Jersey Devil and Mothman shit. Have you ever seen a polar bear in person? At zoos. What’s your favorite thing to order from Taco Bell? If you heard me eating cinnabon delights in the next room, you'd have all reason to believe a porno was being filmed. What do you think of off-brand soda? I'm fine with them. Which do you like better – carpet or wood floor? I generally find wood prettier, but carpet is comfier. Getting down on and up off the wooden floor when exercising hurts, though. Buuut wood is also easier to clean... but also louder... why the fuck am I getting this deep into a question jeez idk basically. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people? Being a 23 y/o teenage fangirl lmao. Have you considered running for president? Hell no. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why? Hm... there's a lot. I suppose ending poverty? Or environmental preservation, which I am already extremely passionate about, but I could actually take more action. Where is the most beautiful place on earth and why? I'd imagine the Grand Canyon. It's so vast and ancient and gives you an idea of just how small we truly are. Are ghosts real? Yes. Are aliens real? Probably. Do you know how to play dominoes? No. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Anything from an endangered animal. Would you ever adopt a child? If I wanted kids, possibly. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? *shrugs* Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did? I wish I'd told Jenna about the Joel thing. Have you been on your first date? If so, how did it go? Yeah, it was fine. Cute really, though unorthodox as he invited my mother along. It actually did make me less nervous tho. What woke you up this morning? My cat meowing his damn brains out. He does this loud, deep meow when he really wants something, and it woke me up. He does that some mornings, and I have no clue why. Your mood? Eh, nervous. I have a short VR class today, and I have to talk to the woman who handles my case, and I don't believe she'll be happy I haven't applied anywhere yet, even though it's been like, five days... I've been working on getting an Office certificate instead. Did you ever watch The Land Before Time when you were younger? I WAS IN LOVE. Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? Usually. What feeling do you have the most difficulty in expressing? Envy. How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? Have an absolute panic attack and die lmao. But it also depends on if anyone is in the situation with me. Like if someone I seriously loved was endangered, I have a feeling I'd rush to immediately help them. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Autumn. Beautiful and cool. In what circumstances do you feel most at peace? When I'm with Sara and we're both happy and laughing. :') What is the best thing about being a male/female? Female: It's more "socially acceptable" to show emotions. Male: Don't have to worry about menstruation cycles. Do you enjoy hugging people? Do you enjoy receiving hugs? Yeah. Do you think that luck has much to play in your life? No. I don't believe people have premeditated-by-nature good or bad luck. It's all random or related to your own choices. Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? In only a few areas; no. What is a talent you wish you possessed? The ability to draw hyperrealistically. When was the last time you went to McDonald’s? It's been quite a while. Maybe around a month. Could you go a whole day without your computer? Definitely not willingly. Have you ever really liked someone to begin with, then changed your mind about them? Yeah, Juan. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone, for more than half an hour? What did you talk about? Most likely Colleen. It was a personal matter, so not saying. Has your ex fallen in love with anyone else, since the two of you broke up? I'm assuming Jason did with Ashley, maybe not. When was the last time you looked at your significant other/crush’s Facebook profile? Been a while. What was the last thing that one of your parents bought for you? Food for me. The last time you went to the hairdressers, what did you have done? A muuuch-needed trim.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years ago

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An Opera on Separation - Chapter 5

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | CH.5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 |

Summary: Friday comes, and Emily and Zig make some plans for the weekend to come. Queenie finds a new way to make quick cash.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1916

Notes: Third chapter this week! I’ll be short. Beyoncé music. Listen to it. Subscribe to taglist. Review, for the love of God.

Freakum Dress

“Good morning, honey!” Queenie sung from the kitchen.

“Good morning, mom.” The redhead responded, emerging from the bathroom fresh and dressed for her working Friday. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making some sugar-free brownies to sell at the community center gym this afternoon.” She answered, placing a batch on the oven. “They were a hit back in Florida.”

“It smells great!” The girl praises her mother.

“It tastes even better.” She smirked. “Those tubbies won’t know what hit ‘em! Gonna make big cash and then I’ll buy myself some new clothes, ‘cause those are going on the way of the dodo.”

“Don’t call them tubbies.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “I’d prefer if you helped making rent, but that’s not going to happen, is it?”

Queenie giggled. “Not on a million years.”

Emily picked up the empty sugar container from the counter. “Mom, didn’t you say those were sugar-free brownies?”

“That I did, honey.” The woman nodded.

“And how in the world you used up all your sugar, then?” The redhead shows her the container accusingly.

The woman rolled her eyes, as if her daughter made a stupid question. “On the brownies, of course. Or else they taste horrible.”

“So, you’re going to sell pretend-sugar free brownies to people who are dieting and exercising?” The redhead asked, incredulous.

Queenie tapped her cheek. “That’s my smart girl! Feel free to have a slice for breakfast.”

“Mom!” She chastised. “What if you sell them to a diabetic?”

“Please, I sold them to plenty of diabetics back in Florida. They all lived!” The woman pointed out. “Besides, what I really want to know is what happened between you and yesterday’s brownie man.”

“Brownie man? Who’s…” Recognition dawns on Emily. “Mom! Don’t call Zig that! It’s racist!”

“Boo-hoo. I’m old, I can say whatever I want.” The woman mocked. “And, yeah, Zigmund. What a piece of ass that is, Heavens!”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “Whatever, mom. And there’s nothing going on between me and Zig. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, the way that boy has looked at you since college, he’s not in this to be your friend, honey.” Queenie said, scoffing. “He wants to make lots of babies with you, that’s what he wants.”

“Don’t be crass.” The daughter responded, not very into it. “And I’m running late to work. See you tonight!”

“See you, honey.” The woman waved.

“And don’t sell those brownies!” She warned from the door.

“Fat chance!” The woman laughs. “You get it? Fat chance!”

The first time that day Emily saw Zig was, as it was to be expected, during lunch hour, at the teachers’ lounge.

She was having lunch with the rest of the department of linguistics when he entered through the hallway door. He greeted Principal Jones and the remainder colleagues at the room before marching over to the table where she sat.

“Hey, Emily?” He taps her shoulder. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” The woman nodded and followed him over to the hallway. Once away from prying ears she asks: “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you I had a wonderful time last night. The lasagna was really good, you’re an awesome cook.” The black-haired said, with a smile.

“Oh, thanks! I’m very happy you like it.” She beamed.

It was rare for someone to compliment her cooking, honestly. Between her mother’s permanent fowl mood, and Nathan, who always seemed to prefer Claudia’s, it has been quite a while since anyone ate and enjoyed what she made.

She, then, looked at him, confused. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No, actually.” He scratched the back of his head. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t like to do that again sometime. Perhaps going out? My treat, of course.”

“Go out?” She asked, surprised with the suggestion. “You mean, like on a date? On a date date, or more like as friends?”

“I meant… Well, I’d like it to be a date.” The man sighed. “Emily, look, I like you. I’d like to go out with you. If you don’t like me back, that’s okay, we can forget all about it.”

The redhead grinned. “Okay. I’ll be more than happy to go out with you.”

“Really?” He smiled widely. “Awesome! How ‘bout Saturday? Tomorrow, I mean. We can go out, grab a bite, dance. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Sounds great to me.” Emily nodded vigorously.

Zig smirked. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

Saturday came and passed, and Emily was finishing up getting ready for her date that night. She wore an emerald-green dress that stopped just after her knees. For shoes, she wore some black stilettos and an evening purse to match.

She emerged from the bedroom and made a twirl, giggling. “So, how do I look, mom?”

Queenie let out a delighted gasp. “You look great, honey! Is this Dolce and Gabbana I see?”

“Yeah, I saved this one for a special occasion.” The redhead nodded. “Figured it’d hard to find a more special occasion than this one.”

“First dates call for brand name.” The mother agreed. “Anyways, how did Zig got out from being ‘just a friend’ Thursday night to be your date tonight, honey?”

“He asked me out on a date Friday afternoon and I said yes.” The woman answered while putting on a pair of earrings over at the bathroom mirror.

“I see.” The older woman smirked. “That’s because the guy’s not in love with you. I can only wonder if he was! You’d be off to the church by now.”

“Don’t be dramatic, mom.” Emily complained, and the doorbell rang at precisely eight PM.

The redhead answered the door. “Hello, Zig!”

“Jesus, Emily!” He breathed out. “You look breathtaking!”

“Thank you!” She smirked. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

Zig wore a gray button-up shirt, a blue tie and a jacket, in a sport casual look which befitted both his personality and his tall, dark and handsome build.

Queenie took the opportunity to make her presence known. “Hello, Zig. How are you tonight?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” He responded, still with that fool-in-love smile of his for the woman’s daughter.

“And I don’t suppose these flowers you’re holding are for me?” She pointed out, with her own deviant smirk.

“What…? Oh!” He stood straight as if hit by lightning. “I almost forgot. Here, Emily, those are for you.”

The redhead beamed. “Oh, they’re beautiful, Zig! Thank you very much!”

“I’ll put it on a vase for you, honey. Now, move along, I’m pretty sure you have a dinner reservation, don’t you?” Queenie said, taking the flowers from her daughter.

“We do, actually.” The man nodded and offered Emily his arm. “Shall we?”

The mother waved at the couple. “Bye-bye! Don’t do anything I would do!”

A short fifteen-minute stroll later, and they reached a fancy European restaurant, The Cheetah. Zig gave the hostess his name and they were led to a lavish, yet secluded, table at the dimly-lit salon.

Emily was presented with a menu and was surprised to see it had only the names of the dishes, no prices.

She frowned. “Zig, are you sure you want to eat here?”

“Sure, why?” He asks, confused. “You don’t like it here?”

“Not at all, the restaurant is absolutely lovely!” The redhead said, shaking her head in adamant denial. “I just thought we’d be going to somewhere more… modest.”

He laughed. “You don’t think I can afford it, do you?”

The woman had the sense to look embarrassed. “I wasn’t going to say it, but no. I know we don’t make much cash.”

“Emily, I am sorry. I really thought you knew.” He smirked. “Have you had any news from Tyler?”

Of course she had. Well, not as much as from him as about him. Tyler had become a Silicon Valley legend, programming a compressing and uncompressing software with no quality loss. He became one of the wealthiest and most respected tech moguls in North America.

“I’ve heard of what he has been doing.” She nodded.

“Well, I helped Tyler develop the prototype for the software. I own 15% of his company.” He smirked.

The woman blushed and looked down to her hands. “I feel pretty foolish right now. I’m really sorry, Zig.”

“No problem. If anything, makes me glad you agreed to go out with me because you like me.” He smirked. “I mean, you did marry old money.”

She scoffed. “Nathan? Old money? I mean, we certainly had a comfortable life, but we were far from the 1%. We lived off mostly of his World Bank salary.”

“I see.” He tutted, suspicious. “Why did you get divorced, again? You never told me.”

“Well, one night he told me he was cheating on me and was leaving me to be with his mistress. Actually, who was supposed to leave was me, since it was his house and what not.” The redhead said. “But, if I’m being honest, it was a long-coming. We hardly talked on those months, even years, leading to it.”

“Wait, so he just came up to you and said that you were through?” The man asks, incredulous.

“Pretty much.” She nodded. “It’d be over the phone if I didn’t forget to charge it the night before. I even got to meet Ashley-Amber.”

“What a dick.” The black-haired grumbled. He wanted to say worse, but he was mindful of his environment.

“How about yourself?” She asks, trying to deflect attention from herself. “I’m sure a handsome man like yourself didn’t had any difficulty finding a date over the years.”

He laughed, self-conscious. “Yeah, dates come easy. But I never found anyone I wanted to be with. Like, for real. It’s all in good fun, but when it comes down, we’re not that compatible, you know?”

“I understand.” She smirked. “You should hear what the other teachers say about you.”

“What?” He nudged her.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” She said, teasingly.

He persisted. “Come on! Now you gotta tell me.”

The redhead laughed and said: “You ought to rethink your choice of jeans. They all say it makes your ass incredible distracting.”

They bantered and talked the night away at the restaurant.

“Back late, aren’t we, honey?” Queenie said from the living room, as Emily crossed into the apartment’s threshold. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t be back tonight.”

“I’m not the kind that has sex on the first date.” She dismissed, haughtily.

“You’re not wrong. You gotta to keep them wanting more.” The older one nodded, enthusiastic. “But nothing happened?”

“Nothing that you might be interested in, no. But we had a great time, and we’re going out again next Friday.” She responded, walking over to the fridge and pouring herself a glass of water.

“Well, if nothing more, he sure looks like a good lay.” The blonde appraised.

Emily opened her mouth to berate her mother for objectifying Zig but was cut short by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” She answers.

“Emily, why don’t you ever answer your phone?” A voice complains.

“Good night to you too, Nathan.” She rolled her eyes. “It was on silent mode on my purse. I have a life, you know? I’m not on your beck and call, certainly not now that we’re divorced.” She emphasized the word in disdain.

“On the contrary, we’re not. But that’s why I called. The judge scheduled a hearing for our case on Monday. You need to come to D.C. to sign the papers.”

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An Opera on Separation - Masterlist

#an opera on separation #the junior #zigmund ortega

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elcorhamletlive · 7 years ago

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series: Dream Daddy characters: Mary Christiansen, Joseph Christiansen, Robert Small, Christie Christiansen ship: Joseph Christiansen/Robert Small tags: Character Study/Angst/Angst with a Happy Ending/Romance/Implied Alcoholism Part 2 of the Genesis series

I. my deep intuition tells me that I'm doing you wrong

She was a conformist.

A friend told her at university once, and altough she rolled her eyes and replied sharply, she knew it was true. She really, really wished she wasn’t. She spend her life playing the amazing part of not giving a fuck about anything. Jim and Kim’s was the perfect place for that. She’d walk around for hours, throwing herself at men who stared at her in a stunned awe, way too scared to take up on her offers, afraid she was too wild and dangerous for them to handle, the poor things. They had no way of knowing the wildest thing on her life was changing Crish’s dirty diapers. And they wouldn’t know the guilt that panged her chest immediately after a thought like that – she loved her kids, she’d tell herself, she really did. And she loved her husband, their house, their family. But sometimes the idea that the rest of her life was already laid out in front of her – bake sales, Sunday services, crashing on their couch at night because she couldn’t stand the thought of touching Joseph even by accident, and then waking up and holding his hand at church for just enough time for the neighbors to see – sometimes, it was too much. Sometimes it made her want to scream and beat her head on the table. Sometimes even thinking about it made her want to die – and yep, that was the time for another shot; thanks, Neil, you’re the best, man.

The shot always helped. It calmed her down, made her feel comfortable again. A couple more and she had already forgot what was bothering her.

(His hands shacked a little when he pulled out her shirt. She understood, really, because she was also shaking, feeling her heart beating fast. It wasn’t even her first time, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t his, either, but there was something solemn about that hotel room, with the lit candles and the rose petals spread on the bed. It felt strange – exciting, sure, but also heavy and important. He kissed her neck, her hands coming up to his shoulders, the new ring sinking onto his skin as she hugged him tighter. She felt nervous, and he was, too, so she slowed down the rhythm, kissing him softly. It felt scary, somehow, as if they were doing something impossible, something unthinkable. A honeymoon’s bed seemed so big for just the two of them, the sheets almost involving their bodies, swallowing them whole.

“You’re beautiful”, he said, his voice low but honest, and she smiled as he lowered her underwear. She was never going to do this with anyone else again, as long as she lived. Her stomach twisted in nervousness, but Joseph smiled back at her and Mary felt herself relaxing into his arms. Everything was going to be all right.)

She had forgotten her wallet.

Usually, at Jim and Kim’s, that wouldn’t bother her much. Guys bought most of her drinks. That night, though, most of the costumers were usual goers who always came after workhours for a beer or two. Those men wouldn’t pay her anything - they were already familiar with her system.

Still, it wasn’t a big problem. She had known Neil for years, he didn’t mind putting a few drinks on her tab sometimes. He had been hinting that it was time for her to go home, though. Pressing him could easily turn into a “you’ve had enough, Mary” situation.

She looked around the place again. It was mostly empty. Two tables away from the bar, there was an old man sleeping with his face on the table. Then, next to the TV, someone she hadn’t noticed before – some guy.

She realized she knew him from somewhere. Squinting her eyes at his face, she remembered: He had just moved to the house next to theirs, with the wife and a young girl. She had probably seen him in Joseph’s latest barbecue – between the beginning of the party and the three wine bottles she finished thorough the afternoon, her memory of that day was kind of hazy, but she definitely remembered the church ladies getting all agitated at the sight of the brooding guy with the leather jacket. It had sparked a huge wave of gossip about why his wife didn’t bother coming, and where was his daughter, but Mary didn’t care. She was used to Joseph making friends with anyone who stepped into his ray of vision. At least this one kept to himself, a quality she definitely could respect.

His eyes flickered towards her, noticing her look. She looked away, maybe too slowly – her reflexes weren’t what they used to be – but soon enough to not seem too interested, she hoped. That flirting game couldn’t be done with a guy who actually seemed like he wouldn’t be too scared to put her promises to the test. Plus, a married man who lived next door was definitely way too much trouble for a couple of drinks she could easily talk Neil into giving her for free.

“Neeeeil.” She called. It came out louder than she meant to, but whatever. “Come get your girl the last shot of the night!”

Neil chuckled. “It was your last shot five rounds ago.”

“Let me live, man.” She said, raising her glass to him expectantly. He looked at her for a moment, seeming hesitant. That was Neil’s only problem: She couldn’t trust him to get her wasted. He was way too nice for that.

“Come on, dude, just one more.” She pleaded, trying her best to sound sober. “Put it on my tab.”

Neil let out a nervous laugh. “Mary, I can’t just…”

“Put it on mine, then.”

It was the handsome guy’s voice. He raised up from his table, walking towards them and taking the seat next to hers. “Give us another bottle of this beauty.” He said, raising his own whiskey glass and taking the final sip. He wasn’t slurring words out like she was, but he did seem a little tipsy.

Neil stared at him confusedly for a few seconds, looking back at Mary with a clear question on his face. It took her a few seconds to process the whole thing, but she shrugged. She wasn’t one to refuse a free drink.

They spend a few moments in awkward silence before Neil came back with the bottle and filled their glasses. Mary felt tense and choose not to look the guy, fixating on their hands on the counter. He was wearing his wedding ring. That made her feel a bit better, before she gazed at her own hand. Shit. She had been forgetting to put it on way too often lately.

He picked the glass as soon as Neil finished filling it, taking a long sip.

“So, uh, not complaining or anything” She started, taking a sip of the her own glass. Damn, it was good stuff. “But… You’re not making a move on me, are you?”

His eyes widened, and he threw his head back, letting out a long laugh. She felt a blaze of relief in her chest.

“Man, how much have you had? You met my wife the other day.” He said, looking at her with a smirk.

Mary smiled, rolling her eyes at him. “I meet lots of husband and wives.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t even bother to learn their names anymore. I just smile and offer a sip of my vodka to the wife later, so we can bond.”

He raised his eyebrows, leaning towards her, as if they were sharing a secret. “So… You offered my wife vodka?”

Mary also leaned forward, their faces almost touching now, her voice turning to a whisper.

“Dude, I have no idea.”

He laughed again, seeming almost surprised with himself. Soon, she was laughing too, and the noise of their laugher echoed around Jim and Kim’s, sounding nice at her ears. They walked back to the cul-de-sac as old friends, helping each other up when they stumbled in the middle of their own steps.

They never said their names, and, as she remembered later, they had definitely been introduced before. In her opinion, though, that was when they actually met.

II. how can we go back to the beginning?

She didn’t cry at her wedding day. She was just so nervous, trying to make sure everything was in the right place. Her mother cried, though, and a couple of her cousins too, and Mary felt a wave of affection for how much they cared.

During the ceremony, it didn’t occur to her it was her duty as a bride to cry. It wasn’t until years later, when the “wedding” topic came up at bake sales conversations, that she felt weird about it. She heard the other moms talk about how they managed to hold their tears back until the moment of the vows, or of how they fell into tears in the moment they put their dress on or whatever. It was your average cliché catholic suburban mom talk – so, naturally, it was the most boring thing in the universe. Mary would sip on her wine and listen to Janet’s heartfelt story about how she had pretty much ruined her eye makeup by the time she said “I do” and wish she had her vodka bottle nearby. Still, she nodded politely, holding back her impulse to ask Janet if she hadn’t cried more later on that night when she saw Gary with his pants off for the first time.

When her turn came up, she’d try to change the subject, maybe cracking that inappropriate joke about Janet’s husband after all. The other moms exchanged nervous looks every time she opened her mouth, smiling uncomfortably as if they were talking to a child who had managed to sneak her way into the adult’s table. It was just so condescending, and she pretended she didn’t notice, taking another sip of her wine, pretending not to see how they all watched as she took the glass to her lips, like a goddamn patrol. They were just so obvious, acting as if they were holy saints in front of her to make her look worse, as if they could see through her soul because they talked a few times a week. And what do you see, Janet?, she thought, her anger boiling inside of her. Do I smile too much at the bar? Joke about Robert’s ghosts too many times a night? Walked home alone more times than it was appropriate? Huh? I’m just doing my normal job here, nothing new on the rodeo, holding my husband’s hand during the father’s sermon, watching my four kids, ready to pop out a fifth one anytime he sees it fit. Forgive me if I’m a little more honest about it than the rest of you fake harpies, ok?

She knocked back the rest of her glass, excusing herself to go the bathroom. Her bottle was still half-full. Fuck you all.

Joseph didn’t cry either, but nobody asked him.

She saw it. She wasn’t an idiot. He thought he was so subtle about it, but he was the idiot, really, because how could he think she didn’t see? Sure, he tried to hide it, but still – the way he looked away at the sight of some men, almost avoiding them; the expression on his face when Hugo mentioned his husband; and now, this. She was willing to spend most of her time pretending to be shortsighted, but she wasn’t blind, and even a blind person would have noticed the rush his voice got when Robert was around, the way his laughter got more nervous and honest, the way he stuttered a couple words and passed him his burger plate so careful to not brush his hand on his. It angered her how obvious he was. She wanted to urge him to be subtler, for their own sake if not for hers. The last thing she needed were the church moms gossiping among themselves about her husband’s crush on their next-door neighbor.

It did made her feel a bit sad, though. Robert wears his wedding ring to the bar, she wanted to tell him, almost smug. He was my friend first, she’d think, seeing the way Joseph’s eyes followed his mouth when they were talking. You’re the third-wheel here, buddy. Sure, Robert never bought Marilyn along to any bake sale, but hey, she and Joseph hadn’t invented bad marriages. Robert never talked about it, and she never asked, because something they quickly got about each other was that Jim and Kim’s was a place for good alcohol and untouchable personal emotions. Instead, they talked about ghosts, or the funny stories she had about the mom network of the neighborhood, or anything remotely fun and silly that would get them cackling loudly after the first few shots. She liked him. He was smart, funny and completely uninterested in her personal life, which, in Mary’s opinion, made him the perfect friend. Sure, apparently, her husband liked him too, maybe a little too much, but it didn’t matter. Yeah, she saw Robert’s eyes following the way Joseph’s arms worked to flip the burgers on the grill, and she saw the way he blushed when he noticed she was looking, but that didn’t matter either. Robert wore his wedding ring to the bar. He was her friend first. She felt angry at how obvious Joseph was at first, but after thinking about it, she almost felt a little bit sorry for him.

(Joseph didn’t speak at the funeral. As the local minister, it was expected he would, but Robert didn’t ask him to. Father Adam spoke instead, and, honestly, Mary couldn’t focus on much of his sermon – the man wasn’t that great of a speaker to begin with, and she sneaked out in the beginning of the ceremony to empty up her vodka bottle with Robert, so during his speech, she spend most of the time focusing on seeming sober enough for a funeral. It probably worked, but only because Robert was distracting everyone else, almost falling at every step he took, randomly interrupting Father Adam with some slurred meaningless lines, and loudly demanding to go to Jim and Kim’s every couple of minutes. It was a fucking train wreck in every way, and Joseph attempted to keep the situation in control, trying to make Robert have some water and calm down a little. Besides them, Val was sitting in the ground, hugging her knees in complete silence. Mary wanted to go to comfort her, but she was afraid of stumbling all over the place.

So she just watched. She watched as Robert sobbed quietly into Joseph’s arms, shaking like a child. Joseph seemed to be doing the most important thing he ever did in his life for how careful he held Robert’s body to keep him from falling to the ground. Maybe he was happy, she thought, cruelly. Maybe he was glad to have an excuse to touch him like that, in front of everybody, without raising any eyebrows. She felt a little bad for thinking like that, but watching them hugging so tightly, seeing the gentle expression on Joseph’s face and the care with which he rubbed Robert’s shoulders made her angry – she felt jealous of both of them, in a way, and part of her wanted to push Joseph aside and help Robert on her own.

She couldn’t, though. She watched as Robert buried his face in her husband’s shoulder as if it had always meant to be there, and his sobs calmed down after a few moments as Joseph mumbled something into his ear. He threw up all over Joseph’s suit and he didn’t even blink, not letting go of Robert in any point, staying by his side during the entire ceremony. Mary’s heart ached as they touched, partly wanting to break them apart and the other part wanting to yell at Joseph to hold him tighter.)

III. i've been sick and tired of running

“Give it to me.”

Chris handed her the pen, seeming embarrassed. His hands were covered in ink, just like the wall behind him, where he decided to show off the new skills he had learned in art class. Or to piss me off, Mary thought, already dreading the conversation where she’d have to tell Joseph why she didn’t stop him. It was his fault, anyway – whose idea was to store their whiskey bottles in the garage? Hell, if she had her way, they’d be spread around the house just like his trashy novels. But they weren’t, so every time she wanted a shot during the day, she had to go to the garage to get some. She suspected that was exactly what Joseph wanted, and it made her furious.

“Good.” She knelt to get at her son’s eye level. “Now, you apologize…”

A loud bump interrupted her words. She turned around to see two chairs knocked over in the floor, with Christian and Christie on top of them. Christian, holding his knee, began to cry, which of course made Crish, in the couch, burst into tears as well.

“Shit!” Mary said, and Chris chuckled behind her, clearly glad to have her attention diverted from him. She ran towards Christian, sitting next to him only to see there wasn’t a scratch on his leg. He was probably just crying from the scare of falling, she realized, but any consolation she might have offered would have to be after she calmed Crish down. Man, that baby could scream. She picked him up, attempting to soothe him back to sleep, but he didn’t seem affected. Christian, back to his feet, was now looking at Chris’s drawings on the wall, asking him about it as if he was interested in continuing the work. Mary gave them a severe look, but soon had to go back to focusing on Crish.

Christie remained sat on the floor, ignoring her brothers. She looked at Mary and smiled. This is your future, Mary wanted to say, suddenly feeling very sad. Trying to juggle a bunch of kids with a husband you don’t care about, in the name of a God you don’t believe in.

She told herself she was being dramatic. Christie was such a clever girl, so sensible and mature for her age – she could achieve anything she ever wanted to, Mary knew. She had no way of knowing how her life would be or how she’d feel about it. And yet, conscious of her daughter watching her, she wanted to hold Christie by her shoulders, look into her eyes and tell her the truth about everything, about her falling asleep in the couch every night, about the vodka bottle in her purse, about Robert and Joseph exchanging looks at the lunch table when they thought nobody was watching. You deserve better than this, she wanted to say.

You deserve better than this.

She tried to ignore that thought, but it echoed in her mind, spreading like a cancer, laying roots of something too dangerous for her to even think about acknowledging. You deserve better than this.

She didn’t see Robert for another week, until she accidentally bumped into him at Mat’s place. She had just picked up Christian and Christie from their acting class and they were begging for some carrot cake, so she decided to stop by.

“Hey” she said, right after ordering, approaching him at the counter while the twins were busy talking to Mat and Carmensita.

To Robert’s credit, he didn’t ignore her. He didn’t say anything, though, just nodded politely before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Something wrong, buddy?” She asked, half-sad, and half wanting to laugh.

“No.” He answered immediately. But of course, everything was wrong, and maybe he’d just grown tired of ignoring it, Mary thought. He was probably over that fucking masochist act her and Joseph kept going on, and since she knew Robert well, she realized he was probably a bit mad at having been caught up in the middle of it.

He didn’t have the right to be mad, of course. But then again, he didn’t have the right to fuck her husband either.

“Good.” She said. There was an uncomfortable silence as she waited for the kids to finish their talk so she could get the hell out of there. She had never experienced an uncomfortable silence with Robert before. They could not talk for hours without any problem, and it wasn’t weird or tense – they could just stop talking by 3 a.m. at the bar when there was nobody else there anymore, and Robert would just help her get home, both of them stumbling drunkenly over each other without saying a word. It was nice. It felt like home.

Christian and Christie came back, with cake all over their faces. They fussed over Robert for a moment and Mary felt sad. It was easy to resent Joseph – she had gathered a lot of practice through the years, after all – but she wasn’t used to being upset at Robert.

“Here, here” she said, grabbing the twins by their hands. “Say goodbye to uncle Robert”.

“Bye, uncle Robert!”

“Bye” He answered, glancing at her face for a moment, seeming as lost as she felt. Mary wanted to say something, anything, but she couldn’t find the words.

He was my friend first, she thought, sadly, closing the door behind them.

(Fuck Joseph, she thought, almost dragging the twins as she walked fast through the street, shaking with anger, trying to hold back tears. And fuck Robert, too, because it takes two to tango and it definitely takes two to ruin a marriage and a friendship at once. But fuck that, too, because what marriage had they ruined anyway? For something to be ruined it had to work at some point –not seeming like it could or should work perfectly, but actually work. It had to have been right at some point. She remembered that nerve-wrecking heavy feeling at their honeymoon, how it felt like they were committing to something greater, bigger than both of them combined. And then Robert happened on the cracks of that greatness, because there were way too many cracks for them to be able to hold it up over their heads. In that hotel room it felt like it could crush them, and now she saw it had, little by little, over all those years. They were both suffocating under it.)

Christian seemed unaware of anything around him, still delighted from his cake. Christie, though, looked at her almost hesitantly. For an insane moment, Mary thought she had realized everything, that she was about to confront her with the tension she felt between her and Robert and how daddy and mommy weren’t talking and mommy was sleeping on the couch most nights and-

“She’s pretty”, she said.

Mary blinked.

“W-what?” She took a moment to collect herself, trying to process what she had just heard. “Who?”

“Carmensita” Christie answered, her cheeks flushing, almost swooning while saying her name. “She’s… Really, really pretty.”

Mary stopped walking for a moment, looking at her daughter’s bashful but dreamy expression, and she felt her heart sinking.

She knocked back the vodka.

It could very well be nothing, obviously. It was probably nothing.

But what if it wasn’t? What if it was something, and as she grew it turned it into everything? What if she didn’t get it? What if she said to herself it was nothing, again and again and again as she was saying “I do” in an altar in front of a man who she thought was all she needed to be happy? Shit, would Mary have to cry at her wedding? Would she cry? Would she hug her before walking up the aisle, stare at her soul with those blue eyes (Joseph’s eyes) and hope that Mary would have the right words to calm down that constant uneasy feeling on her chest?

And what the fuck would she say? When did she ever knew what to say to her children? She would hug her tight to avoid looking at her face, because she was that cowardly, and then she would just spend her life pretending not to see that plea of confusion in her eyes.

She knocked back another glass. Her hands were almost shaking too much to pour the next one.

It was probably nothing, she thought, finally giving up and reaching for the bottle instead, taking a long sip. It had to be. Christie would enjoy getting married and having kids, she told herself, under her breath, attracting a few odd looks from the table next to hers. Most people did.

But what if she didn’t? What if one day another girl made her smile like that and she felt the world as she knew was going to fall apart if she ever acknowledged it? Or worse, what if she didn’t even let herself smile in the first place? What if she buried it inside and forced herself to smile at guys for so long she didn’t even notice anymore? And then Mary would have to cry at her wedding, and she’d feel that nervousness without understanding, and years later she’d meet a neighbor with dark eyes and a leather jacket and-

I’m losing it, Mary told herself, shaking her head.

And yet she couldn’t take that image out of her mind, Christie saying Carmensita’s name with that smitten voice, with such a purity only an eight year old’s crush could have. She thought about Christie looking at her with that dreamy expression, talking about that girl, telling Mary something she definitely had not told any of her brothers, and maybe something she herself wasn’t even aware of. Her daughter was so fucking smart, and so fucking sensible and brave, and when she looked at her Mary still saw that unconditional trust in her eyes, that need for her opinion and approval dripping through her words when she said anything.

How long would that last? How long until she did the math and realized Mary wasn’t worth of that look? Worse, what if she never did? What if it lasted forever? What if Christie was never able to see the misery all over the way mommy and daddy held their hands during Sunday service? What if she thought it was normal? What if she thought this was how love was meant to be life, and whatever weird feeling she had for a pretty girl at the coffee shop was something else, something not worth fighting for?

Stop projecting, you sound like a shitty psychiatrist.

She finished the bottle, feeling sick to her stomach. She wanted to throw up, but she couldn’t – not in the middle of the kitchen, at least (not again). She stood up, struggling to make her way to the bathroom. She fell on the floor on her knees immediately after opening the door, unable to hold any longer, spilling her guts all over the closed toilet. It smelled like shit, and Mary felt her eyes welling up. She felt angry at everyone around her – at Joseph, Robert, hell, even Christie.

She had to get up and clean that mess, because they were having a fucking bake sale in the morning and she needed to change into something clean before everyone else woke up. Still, she felt unable to move. She just sat there, covered in vomit, sobbing like a child, wanting to be anywhere else but there. A fitting metaphor everything else in her life, she realized. Then, out of nowhere, she heard that whisper, that quiet mantra emerging strong in her mind all of a sudden: You deserve better than this.

She didn’t fight it this time. She didn’t have the strength to. She just let it sink all over her: You deserve better than this.

They all did, in the end.

IV. just say you forgive me and don't let me go

She didn’t even think about printing them, at first. She just googled it, almost distractedly, just to take a look, just to see how scary they’d seem. The answer was: A lot. It was all so complicated, a bunch of bureaucracy she had no idea how to even begin to handle. In her social circle, there weren’t many people who could help her with that, for obvious reasons. She supposed she could ask Hugo, but on her context, even saying the word “divorce” out loud would be enough to set every gossiper on the neighborhood on fire.

So she didn’t ask him or anyone. She just googled for a few minutes, stared at the results on the first page, and then closed the tab immediately, almost nervous that someone would catch her in the act. She didn’t think about doing it again.

(At first.)

She and Robert slowly started talking again. Not like before, obviously – it would never be like that again, to Mary’s sadness. But they didn’t ignore each other anymore, at least. Mostly because of practical reasons: Their cul-de-sac was way too small to ignore anyone for too long, and she and Robert spend too much time in the same places to forever avoid acknowledging each other’s presence. Plus, it was hard to ignore people when you had five shots of tequila in your head. Mary found herself walking towards Robert’s table at the bar way too many times, and then one night she just sat beside him, watching him finish a glass of whiskey. He stared at her nervously, but didn’t move away. The silence between them almost felt comfortable.

Then she noticed the hickey on his neck.

He didn’t understand what happened, clearly, because he only mumbled confusedly when she stood up suddenly and walked to the opposite end of Jim and Kim’s.

She wasn’t sure why she did it – she wasn’t surprised, obviously. There was no reason for them to stop all of a sudden, just because she knew. Hell, for the looks she saw each of them shoot at the other when they thought no one was watching, Mary wasn’t sure they could stop even if they tried. Even if they wanted to.

And they probably really wanted to, she realized, sitting at an isolated table with her back turned to Robert. They probably tried a lot. She remembered Joseph holding him at the funeral – Robert was coming apart in her husband’s arms, and yet, somehow, she felt for them there. She wanted Joseph to hold him tighter, to help him stand up. Now there, years later, sitting alone in a bar to avoid looking at her best friend’s face, she couldn’t help but wonder how long they had wanted to touch each other like that. How it must have hurt.

Robert was still staring at her, she knew. She didn’t look back, but in her head that same thought echoed, this time not directed at herself: You deserve better than this.

She had gotten used to repeating it, so she didn’t cringe, and instead mumbled again. And again. And again and again and again.

She googled the papers again. This time, she looked over them more carefully, trying her best to understand some of it. It turned out the basics weren’t that hard.

She googled some lawyers. It turned out some of them weren’t so expensive.

Next to her, Christian and Christie were drawing. Christie walked towards her chair and sat right next to it, resting her read in her lap while coloring. Mary couldn’t hold back a smile. She was so caring, her daughter. So sweet and thoughtful. She looked up at Mary and smiled back. Mary felt her heart beating faster, her head pounding with fear of her daughter’s childish look, of the idea of how it could change through the years.

(She had Joseph’s eyes. She didn’t have to carry his burden as well.)

Mary took a deep breath. She saved the lawyer’s contact.

(She did type “A.A.” in the search bar, but didn’t have the courage to press enter.)

There was a hotel downtown. It wasn’t too far, and it wasn’t too expensive. She could book almost a month in advance with her savings. Sure, it wouldn’t have the comfort of her parents’ house, but she wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone either.

It still took her a few weeks to call, though. Every time she mustered the courage to dial the number, that crippling fear stormed over her, filling her head with buts and don’ts that she didn’t need anymore. She wasn’t even sure of what she was so scared of. She had spend so much time with those fears governing her life that by now it was almost a matter of habit. They were behind her ear every night, in every church sermon, in every bake sale, in all of her and Joseph’s late night fights after she returned from the bar. They kept her hostage. It was just so much easier to stay there, to not think about it, to push that misery inside and pretend it wasn’t there.

She looked at the phone and to the front yard, watching Joseph work on their plants, his head firmly turned anywhere that wasn’t Robert’ house so deliberately it was kind of sad. He turned his face to the window, noticing her gaze. His expression tensed up immediately, as usual. He gave her a polite nod and turned back to the plants.

He looked so tired, Mary thought. And she probably wasn’t much better. They had to try so hard each day, doing their best to make the hours pass, to pretend that life was happening to someone else.

She did consider talking to him. Sitting in front of him and having a conversation like the two adults they supposedly were. She supposed she owed him that, after all that time – a proper goodbye, at least. She wanted to do like they did in the movies, with that quiet and sad acceptance of what had changed and ended. Still, she knew her and Joseph would probably just end up screaming at each other. Mary didn’t want that. Most importantly, she was terrified of what would happened if they didn’t end up fighting. What if Joseph listened to everything she had to say and just asked her to stay? Worst of all, what if she mentioned Robert and he promised her to end everything with him? What if he begged? What if he got so afraid that he was able to pull that fear from inside of her, as well? What if she did end up staying?

Joseph’s hands seemed to shake a little when he risked a quick glance at Robert’s yard.

Mary typed the hotel’s number.

(She was tired.

And she was done with fear.)

She waited until everyone else in the house was asleep. She put some clothes in an old backpack. It was quick - there wasn’t much else she wanted to bring anyway.

Then, the note. She was tempted not to write anything, but there was a chance Joseph would just think she had gotten lost on the way back from Jim and Kim’s in that case. So she scribbled down the simplest goodbye possible, with the hotel’s number and a promise to call soon. She knew that it wasn’t really fair to be that abrupt, but to be honest, she wasn’t really sure of what she could say to him anyway.

They both knew what had to be said. They knew for a long time, now. They were saying it on the inside, screaming so loudly that it ended up coming out in some way, whether it was through emptying up bottles of wine or falling in love. It wasn’t the time to say anything else.

It was time to listen.

Her last stop was at the kids’ bedroom. She considered not even going there, still scared that the sight of them would be enough to make her give up her entire plan. It didn’t feel right not to, though. She didn’t approach any of their beds, worried that they could wake up. She just looked at them, staring at their sleeping faces, trying to memorize them in their head. They all looked so much like Joseph, but looking carefully, she could see a little bit of herself in them – the tip of Chris’s nose, the shape of Crish’s ears, the outline of Christian and Christie’s lips.

Mary smiled. In the future, maybe, they’d look in the mirror and notice that. When they did, she wanted them to feel good.

She wanted them to be proud.

Mary stepped out of the room, looking behind her one last time.

“We deserve better than this” she whispered to them in the dark. “And I’ll make sure we get it.”

To her own surprise, she believed it.

#mary christiansen #roseph #robert small #joseph christiansen #ddads #my fics

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