#About how early in the books she gets to experience something so horribly traumatic and to receive little support afterwards

[onaperduamedee]

Heartbroken reminder that Egwene is 17 when she gets taken by the Seanchan, spends two months in captivity being tortured, used as a weapon and dehumanized. When she gets back to the Tower, she immediately passes a test that's not at all traumatic, nearly gets killed by a Grey Man and is sent on a secret mission to hunt murderers completely unsupervised. During this period of wandering, lacking direction, she naturally gets angrier and erratic, but Nyn and Elayne mostly treat it as childish rebellion against Nyn's authority, with Elayne slapping Egwene because she was mean to Nyn. When the girls eventually get captured because they are not equipped at all to hunt the Black Ajah, Egwene becomes so terrified of being taken again that she keeps on resisting the sisters long past it is sensible, earning a brutal beating from the sisters who throw her back into a cell, beaten to a pulp, with no hope for help this time.

Clearly, Egwene has no PTSD whatsoever.

[calzone-d]

Close Call

pairing: Ted Lasso x fem!reader

warnings: car accidents, near death experiences, hospitals, surgery, angst

word count: 5.5k

summary: Ted gets a phone call no one could've prepared him for while at work.

a/n: this one's angsty, y'all! always a happy ending though! requests are always open, send stuff in anytime :)

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

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mr. Ted Lasso?”

“Uh, yeah. This is him.”

“Mr Lasso, your wife has been in a car accident and is currently under our care here at Richmond Royal Hospital.”

Everything stopped.  “I-is she okay? What happened? Oh god, is she al-”

“Mr Lasso, your wife is currently in surgery, but we really aren’t supposed to give patient information out over the phone. We’d be happy to assist you further at the hospital. We’ll be able to give you more information at our admission desk.”

His hands began to tremble, and his voice was nowhere near steady. “O-okay. Thank you.”

Ted turned to look at his other coaches, unable to form words. Not like he needed to, they all heard his responses to the call. With a nod and a, “We got it, you go.” from Coach Beard, he grabbed his essentials from his desk and booked a cab to get him to the hospital.

In the backseat, it took everything in him to calm his breathing. He imagined your voice, how soothing it was, and how you always knew how to calm him down.

Oh god. What if this morning was the last time he’d get to hear your voice?

He quickly shook the thought from his head and jumped out of the cab as soon as he could do so somewhat safely. 

His feet took him quickly to the admitting desk, “HI, my uh, my name is Ted Lasso? My wife Y/N Lasso is here, y’all called me and said she was in an accident”. 

“Give me one second, let me take a look.”

Ted wrung his clammy hands together nervously as more horrible thoughts ran through his mind. He was spiraling, imagining every worst case scenario. 

“It looks like she’s still in surgery, sir. You’re more than welcome to have a seat in our surgical waiting room and one of the doctors will come for you when they have more information to give you”, she gestured to the bleak waiting room behind him. “Thank you”, he nodded.

The room was scattered with distraught people, and his anxiety didn’t decrease as he sat down.

Would you ever come home?

Would you remember him when you woke up?

What if you didn’t wake up?

Tears formed in his eyes as he remembered the way you snuggled closer to him after silencing your alarm this morning. If he knew this was how your day was going to go, he would’ve kept you in that bed for a week just to be safe.

By now, school was about to be let out, and he sent a quick text to Roy asking him to pick up Henry when he picked Phoebe up. 

Roy: “Want me to let him hang out at my place until you figure something out?”

Ted, still imagining the worst, was torn on what to do. He could send Henry home with Roy, but if things went south and Henry wasn’t here, Ted would forever feel guilty. He also knew you’d be wanting to see the blonde-haired boy if you woke up. On the other hand, he didn’t want to traumatize Henry by bringing him here. 

He decided to have Roy bring him, as he was old enough for Ted to explain what was happening and have an understanding of it. It was winter, and it got dark pretty early in the day. By the time Roy made it with Henry, it was practically dark, and the crease Henry’s brow matched Ted’s. 

"Dad what happened?"

The boy hugged his dad as soon as he was close enough. The hug was enough to make Ted’s calm-ish facade break, but he held it in, trying to stay strong in front of his son. “Well buddy, Y/N was in a wreck.”.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Ted looked up to meet Roy’s gaze before continuing, “I-I don’t know, Hen. All I know is she’s in surgery right now.” Tears filled Henry’s eyes and a few managed to escape. Before he could say anything else, Ted crouched down and pulled him into a strong hug. Ted let a few tears of his own shed as he buried his face into Henry’s hair. After a few minutes Roy cleared his throat, “I need to call Keeley”, and walked away with his phone to his ear.

Henry sat down next to Ted in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The pair sat in a fearful silence, not knowing what to say, or ask, or do. Henry’s small voice broke the silence, “Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Do you think Y/N knows I love her?”

Ted let out a watery chuckle, “Oh, Henry. She knows, and she loves you so much more than you know.”.

Henry silently nodded. “Loves you more than anything else, little buddy. You’re her favorite kid.”

Roy walked back through the doors and took a seat on the other side of Henry, “Keels will be here within the hour.”, Ted nodded. 

Before their conversation could continue, a surgeon entered the waiting room, “Lasso family?”.

Henry stayed in the chair beside Roy while Ted shook the surgeons hand. “I’m Dr. Oren, I operated on your wife.” 

“How is she? W-what happened?”, Ted was a nervous wreck, preparing himself for the worst while trying to hope for the best. “Well, Mr Lasso, your wife was in a pretty severe motor vehicle accident. She was driving through an intersection and her car was hit by an oncoming driver who was texting, and didn’t notice the red light.”

Ted’s eyes filled with tears for what felt like the millionth time tonight. “The other vehicle was going about sixty miles per hour and hit the driver’s side door of Y/N’s vehicle. The airbags deployed, but the airbags in your vehicle were ones that had previously been recalled, so when they deployed, so did a few pieces of metal. She has mostly superficial injuries, but one lodged into her neck, and barely missed her carotid artery. We had to do an exploratory endoscopy to ensure there was no internal bleeding and that the carotid was truly intact.” 

“Is she okay? Was it intact?”

The surgeon nodded as she continued, “Yes, sir. We have had to place her into a medically induced coma to attempt to reduce the swelling of her brain, but we expect to wake her up from it within the few days. She is currently being moved to a stepdown unit to recover from surgery and her injuries, but after her wound heals and our physical therapist sees her, we expect her to go home to make a full recovery. She’ll be in room 4209 on the fourth floor,”

Ted let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“Your wife was very lucky, Mr Lasso. Most neck wounds of that kind don’t have the same outcome. The hospitalist will be in to see her as soon as she is awake and re-oriented, he will be able to answer the rest of your questions.” she nodded as her pager beeped, and she walked out of the room.

Before he turned to Henry and Roy, Ted took a deep breath to steady himself. When he turned around, he was already there. “Is she okay?”

“She, uh- She has a room.” Henry walked up and wrapped his arms around his father. 

“Let’s go see her, guys”

The three boys made a beeline for room 4209. Roy stayed with Henry outside, wanting Ted to scope out the situation before exposing Henry to anything too traumatic.

The nurse in the room turned to Ted as he shut the door behind him, “Hi, are you her husband?”. Ted smiled weakly, “That’s me”.

“Hi, I’m Josh, I’ll be Y/N’s nurse for the rest of the evening. We just got her settled in from surgery, and all of her vitals are stable right now.”

Ted remained silent as he took in your appearance; you had a breathing tube down your throat, a feeding tube down your nose, and what seemed like a million wires surrounding you. 

The nurse could sense Ted’s worry, “The breathing tube is breathing for her, and the tube down her nose is providing her nutrition since she can’t eat right now. The hospitalist wants to extubate her and let up on her sedation in three days, so assuming that goes smoothly, that’s when you can expect her to begin waking up.”.

He let out a breath at the mention of you waking up. You were pale, but looked so peaceful with your eyes closed in the bed. Ted didn’t know whether or not to be relieved at the sight of your chest rising, considering it was the ventilator doing the work. Josh finished re-adjusting the wires of your heart monitor before grabbing some hand sanitizer off the wall, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to the nurses station or use the call button. We’re monitoring her vitals at the desk, so don’t worry about those.”

Ted slowly nodded, “Thank you.”

As Josh walked out, tears filled Ted’s eyes once more. He timidly approached the side of your bed and extended a hand to rest on your cheek. “Honey-”, he choked out before the tears finally fell. He sat down in the chair at the bedside and allowed himself to cry. His other hand grabbed your cold one, and he laid his head down to rest softly against your shoulder as he cried. 

What would they do without you?

It was hard to stop himself from thinking of the worst case scenarios, but he knew he needed to be strong for you and Henry. You wouldn't want them worrying over you. He chuckled weakly as he imagined how dismissive of your injuries you’d be. 

Would she want Henry to see her like this?

He brushed a hand over the top of your head and decided your son would be better off not seeing you with tubes keeping you alive; not when you had such a high chance of waking up. As the door opened again, Ted quickly spun around to see Keeley walking in. She looked distraught, and brought your favorite flowers to sit on your windowsill. No words needed to be spoken as Ted brought her in for a comforting hug, both of them longing for their best friend. 

Ted sniffled as he pulled away, “I’m gonna go talk to Henry. S’it okay if he stays with y’all tonight? I just planned on staying here and I don’t want him seein’ Y/N like-”

“Of course, Ted”, she gently smiled. He returned it as best as he could before slipping out in the hallway to find Henry and Roy.

“How is she, dad? Is she okay? When can I see her?” His eagerness to see you made Ted smile. He crouched down to Henry’s level, “I think it would be best if you went home and spent the night with Uncle Roy and Aunt Keeley tonight, buddy”

“But I wanna stay with Y/N”, his pout was hard to resist. 

“Y/N has a lot of medical equipment helpin’ her out right now bud, she isn’t awake or talking yet. It all looks real scary, but the second it’s gone I promise that you can see her all you want”

Henry’s voice went up a few octaves as tears formed in his eyes, “But I need to see that she’s okay, Dad”

“C’mere Henry”, Ted pulled the boy into a tight hug as he began to cry softly. He missed the comfort of the woman who’d practically taken over as his mother. Ted was a wonderful dad, but right now he needed to be held by Y/N.

“I promise you that right now, she is okay buddy. Her body’s restin’ while all those machines do the work for her, and the doctors plan to start wakin’ her up in three days.”

Henry held on to him tightly and shook his head in the crook of Ted’s neck.

 “No”, he whined, “She needs to come home.”. Ted’s heart broke as he pulled back to look into Henry’s eyes, their tears mirroring each other’s, “She can’t right now, Hen.”, now his voice was breaking too.

Henry began to cry harder, so Ted pulled him in to hold him once more and softly rocked him. He was racking his brain trying to imagine what Y/N would do in this situation. 

“If she could, I promise you she would be curled up on the couch watching bake-off with you right now, and y’all would be actin’ like y’all are the judges or somethin’.” his weak attempt at a joke did nothing to soothe the boy’s cries. Ted decided to just hold him until his cries weakened, occasionally pressing a soft kiss to the top of his blonde hair. When he settled down, Ted pulled away a bit. “You’re gonna go have a sleepover with Uncle Roy and Aunt Keeley, and hang out with them since it’s the weekend and you don't have school.”, Henry nodded. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out the quickest way for you to see Y/N okay? I know she’s gonna be lookin’ for you the second she wakes up.”.

The mention of seeing you made Henry break into the lightest smile. Ted and Henry said their goodbyes before Roy took him home. Ted popped his head back in your room to tell Keeley he was going home to get a change of clothes and a few more things, and to text him if anything happened while he was gone.

His heart broke a bit more as he looked around your shared home, seeing all of your items and pictures together. By now, he’d finally been able to quiet his spiraling thoughts, and was now primarily focused on taking care of you until you woke up. He gathered clothes and toiletries for himself, before moving to pack some of yours. He packed your favorite warm socks, pajamas and toiletries for when you woke up. On his way out the door he also grabbed your favorite fuzzy blanket and a family photo with Henry before loading up your (now only) car. 

Keeley left when he returned, wanting to be home in case Henry needed to talk to someone better at dealing with emotions than Roy. After she left, Ted pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and got to work on setting up your room. He turned the TV on for some background noise, swapped the hospital socks for your favorite ones, and draped the blanket over you. This time of year, you were always complaining about being cold. On your bedside table, he put the family photo you had insisted on having taken.

Ted pulled out the pull-out sofa and made his own makeshift bed with some pillows and a blanket from home. When the nurse came in to swap out your tube feed, Ted made small talk with him, and thanked him for taking such good care of you. He sent Roy a quick text and pressed a kiss to your cheek before falling asleep on the uncomfy couch. 

—-------------

The next morning, Ted was woken up by a high pitched beeping. He immediately jumped up to see what was happening and make sure you were okay. Before he could get to the call button a new nurse came in and introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Leah, and I’ll be taking over for Josh this morning. The fluids in her IV are just ready to be swapped over, that’s what the beeping’s for.”

“So she’s okay?”

“Yes, her vitals are actually looking much better this morning. The doctor may try to extubate tomorrow, because the ventilator is showing she’s attempting to breathe on her own. Don’t hold me to that, though. We’ll wait and see what he says when he makes his rounds.”

Ted spent the morning making small talk with you and eating crappy hospital cafeteria breakfast. Around lunchtime, he decided it was time to try and brush your hair. It was still matted from the aftermath of the accident. He was gentle as he slowly worked the knots out, and when he was finished he put it in his best attempt at a side braid to keep it from getting tangled any further. 

He showered quickly and brushed his teeth, then called Roy to update him.

“Hello?” 

“Hey Roy, how’s Henry?”

“Alright, a bit down but Keeley’s trying her best to cheer him up. How’s Y/N?”

“She’s doing better actually, they might try to take out her breathing tube tomorrow, just depending on how things go. Don’t- uh, don’t tell Henry though, I don’t want to fill him with any false hope.”

“I won’t. Beard’s updated the team about what happened, so don’t worry about that. Want to talk to Henry?”

“Please”

There was shuffling on the other end before Ted heard his son’s voice, “Dad? Is Y/N okay? Is she awake?”

“Not yet, buddy. She’s doin’ a little better though. How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m okay, just worried about Y/N”

“I know, buddy”, Ted looked at the door as it opened to reveal the doctor, “Hey, bud, the doctor’s here so I’m gonna go talk to him alright? I’ll call you a little later, I love you”

“Love you too dad”

Ted put his phone in his pocket before shaking the doctor’s hand. “I’m Dr. Holt, nice to meet you. You’re her husband?”

“Yes sir, that’s me.”

“Your wife was in a pretty serious car accident, I’ve heard the surgeon explained all of the details to you?” Ted nodded. “We’ve put her in a sort-of medically induced coma because her MRI showed trace swelling of the brain, and this is the best way for us to keep the swelling down. Her ventilator is signaling that she’s attempting to breathe on her own, and as long as her oxygen saturation stays where it’s at, I’m comfortable extubating her tomorrow afternoon.”

“What about the swelling?”

“Her repeat MRI showed it's gone down, we just don’t want to move too fast. After we extubate her, we will still keep her pretty heavily sedated, but we’ll slowly start to decrease it.”

“Why are we keeping her sedated?”

“Well Mr Lasso, she had quite the traumatic experience, and in cases such as these, being woken up with a breathing tube in place and not being able to do anything only stresses the patient out, but can also prolong healing time and sometimes causing further issues. Once she is breathing on her own and has woken up, then we’ll move to taking out her feeding tube and beginning physical therapy. She’ll likely be very weak because her body is not used to being in bed for such a long period of time. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“I can’t think of any.”

“Great, we'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mr Lasso. Here’s my card, please reach out to me if you need anything.”, the man handed him a business card before leaving. 

After the doctor left, Ted pulled up a chair to sit as close as he could to Y/N. He grabbed one of her cold hands, “I don’t know if you can hear me but, we need you to get better, darlin’. Me, Henry, Keeley, everyone. We weren’t made to be without you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, I need you.”, his voice was thick at this point.

“Henry misses you like crazy. Thought he was gonna punch me in the face for not lettin’ him see you like this”, his chuckle was weak. “Need you to get better and come home, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry this happened to you.”, he cried into his free hand and wished for some sort of sign that you’d be okay. He swore he felt your hand twitch, but he was afraid it was just his imagination. He spent the rest of the day making small talk with you, the nurses, and sending out texts to update his Richmond family. 

————

When he woke up and was readjusting your blankets the next morning, he almost fainted when he saw your eyes barely flutter open. 

“Y/N? O-oh my god-” he immediately hit the call button and the nurse was in there within seconds. “Sh-she opened her eyes, I was just fixin’ her blankets and then-”, the nurse cut him off. 

“Her heart rate shot up on the monitors, we think she may be trying to wake up.”, he stepped aside as the nurse began an assessment. As soon as the cold metal of her stethoscope pressed against your chest, your eyes shot open. They were wide and frantic as you looked around the room, and your heart rate only continued to rise as you felt all the equipment on, in, and around you. 

“Mrs Lasso, I’m Leah, your nurse.”, she put a comforting hand on your shoulder. Ted wanted to touch you, but it felt like he was frozen in place. “You were in a pretty bad car wreck, do you remember that?”

You nodded the best you could. “You’re in the hospital, we have a breathing tube inserted into your lungs right now, so try and relax the best you can so that it remains in place. I’m going to call the doctor now, and he’s going to be here to remove it, hopefully within the hour”, she glanced at her watch. Your eyes filled with tears as you took in your surroundings and registered the immense pain you were in.

Ted stepped into your view while you tried your best to stay still, scared of disrupting any of the invasive equipment. Tears rolled freely down your cheeks at the sight of him. He looked so distraught; cheeks scruffy from not shaving, bags forming under his eyes, messy hair from his hand constantly running through it. As you locked eyes, he stepped closer and took one of your hands to hold in his own. “Baby-”, his voice grew thick, “I’m so glad you’re okay. We were all so damn scared.”

You tried to speak but it was no use, your voice was shot from the combination of the tube and not speaking for a few days.

“Shh, it’s okay. Henry’s with Keeley and Roy, as soon as we get that tube out, he’ll be here.”, you weakly nodded as you winced in pain. Your heart rate wasn’t going down, between the pain and anxiety it wasn’t going down any time soon. Not being able to speak made you anxious, and your breathing quickened as you became dizzy. Before Ted could attempt to calm you down, the nurse came in with a syringe filled with medicine. 

“We’re gonna give her this, her heart rate doesn’t need to be this high, so this’ll calm her down.”

She pushed the medicine through your IV and stayed in the room until your heart rate decreased. As it decreased, your breathing evened out and you fell asleep again. Although it felt so nice to see you awake, Ted couldn’t stand the thought of you feeling so worried or in pain. 

The nurse informed Ted that Dr. Holt planned on extubating her at 3pm, so he called Roy to ask that he be prepared to bring Henry. 

When Dr. Holt arrived, he had a team of respiratory therapists with him, and a crash cart in case the event took a turn for the worst. The sight of the crash cart and the defibrillator pads being placed on your chest as a precautionary measure made Ted uneasy. His hands felt clammy and his own breathing quickened at the thoughts of the cart being used. Just as everyone had entered the room, you had begun to wake up again. This time, your heart rate stayed at baseline as Dr. Holt explained the situation to you, and told you that if you started to panic, he’d be unable to extubate you today.

It took everything in you not to panic, you had machines keeping you alive and you had so many questions, but the idea of holding Ted and Henry after this helped you to stay calm while the doctor prepared his supplies. The nurses had been slowly weaning you off the ventilator, so you felt little change as they powered it off. You had been breathing on your own for quite a while now.

When he pulled the tube from your lungs, it hurt more than you could’ve ever imagined, and as soon as it was out you began throwing up from the pain. Luckily a nurse had an emesis bag ready nearby, and it didn’t get all over the bed. Ted’s heart broke as he watched you, unable to reach you or comfort you as he stood behind the team of people there to make sure you could breathe. As your vomiting subsided, the doctor began asking questions and checking your vitals, ensuring you would be okay breathing on your own. When he was confident that you would be okay, he and his team left the room. 

Leah turned to you, “How are you feeling?”

“In pain”, you rasped, “Everything hurts”. 

“I’m sure, Mrs Lasso. I’ve brought you some medication that won’t sedate you, but should help with your pain. A speech pathologist will be in soon to do a swallow study with you, just to make sure you’re able to swallow efficiently before we let you have anything to eat or drink. Once she signs off, then we’ll be able to get that feeding tube out. Physical therapy wont see you until tomorrow, but if you’d like to try and take some small steps later that’s fine.”

“O-okay. Thank you”

She pushed more medication through your IV before leaving. 

As she left, Ted immediately took you into his arms. You held each other tight while you both cried. He pulled away and held your face delicately in his hands, “I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N, I was so worried.”

“I was so scared, Ted.”, you cried. “I remember lying there, but I couldn’t move, or breathe, and everything looked fuzzy-”, Ted sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into him while you cried, grabbing handfuls of the sweater he was wearing. 

“I didn’t know if I’d see you or Henry again, Ted. It was fucking awful”, you sobbed into his neck. He was sitting so that you didn’t have to move much to lean into him, not wanting to put any strain on the wound on your neck. 

“You’re here, darlin’. It’s okay, you’re all okay.”, he whispered into your hair in an attempt to reassure you both. The two of you sat in silence while you held each other, just needing to feel one another there. Warm, breathing, and alive. 

After an hour or so of Ted answering your questions, the speech pathologist came in. She introduced herself and explained the process of the swallow evaluation to you before you got started. Ted stepped aside to call Roy and give him the okay to bring Henry.

When you had passed the evaluation, the nurse came in to remove your feeding tube. Ted watched, feeling guilty he couldn’t make you feel better.  It felt so nice to finally get to drink water, your throat had felt so dry. She brought you some applesauce to snack on before dinner, and Ted assumed his previous position on the side of your bed. You brushed out your hair, and brushed your teeth, wanting to look somewhat presentable. Ted helped you walk to the bathroom to wash your face and stretch your legs before you returned to bed.

As you got settled back against the pillows, there was a gentle knock on the door. Before you could respond, it opened to reveal your favorite blonde-haired boy and grumpy assistant coach. Your voice was weak as you exclaimed, “My Henry Bug!’, and opened your arms wide as he ran straight to your bed. He climbed up immediately and hugged you. You internally winced from the pain that came with moving, but didn’t want to do or say anything that would make him pull away. After he was satisfied with the hug, he didn’t pull away, he instead chose to stay in your lap and snuggle into you as you relaxed against the pillows. It was clear he hadn’t been sleeping well, just like his father.

His head laid on your shoulder, and he whispered a soft, “Missed you, mom. Glad you’re okay.”. Your eyes began to water, you had both of your boys here and you were awake. You held Henry tightly against you, and he relaxed in your hold as he let his eyes flutter closed. While you pressed a gentle kiss to his head, Ted pulled his phone out and snapped a quick picture. Once he returned it to your pocket, he sat on the other side of you and pulled you both in close for a big hug. You made small talk with Roy as Henry fell asleep against you, and he informed you that Keeley would be stopping by tomorrow. 

When visiting hours were over, it took everything in you to wake Henry up and send him home with Roy. As much as you wished he could stay with you, you knew the pull out couch was uncomfortable and he’d have a much better weekend with his favorite aunt and uncle. He stirred softly in your arms as you whispered his name, “It’s time to go home, lovebug. You’re gonna go back home with Uncle Roy”.

He nuzzled back into you, “Don’t wanna”

His stubbornness made you chuckle, “I know, Hen. But phoebe is so excited to see you, and your dad and I will pick you up the second we leave okay? It should only be another couple days.”

He sadly nodded against you before getting up and going to hug his dad. Ted held him tightly, and reluctantly sent him back home with Roy, but he didn’t leave without giving you another hug and warning you to “Not get hurt again”.

“Well I definitely don’t plan on it, Henry”, the two of you shared a laugh. That little boy had your whole heart. Once he left, Ted settled in next to you on the bed, and pulled you in for another hug. He took a deep breath and kissed your head. 

“We love you so much, sweetheart. Can’t imagine this life without you.”

You looked up at him with eyes full of tears, “I don’t want you to”.

Finally, he pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips were slightly chapped, but he didn’t care one bit. He wrapped two strong arms around you as you allowed yourself to melt into him. You felt safe in his arms, and wanted nothing more than to be at home with him and Henry. Quietly, you whispered, “Ted?”

He sleepily replied, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I-”, you took a deep breath, “I want to try for a baby”.

Ted remained silent as he sat up straighter, pulling away to look you in the eyes. The two of you had agreed on trying for a baby at some point, he just wasn’t expecting right now. Not after the dramatic turn the past few days had taken. He would be lying though, if he said watching you hold Henry didn’t make him want an entire team’s worth of kids with you. His mind reeled with thoughts like these often; you pregnant, having another newborn around, Henry getting to be a big brother. There was no doubt in his mind that he didn’t want those things with you.

You weren’t exactly scared by his silence, you guys had this conversation many times before. Though, before it was just to make sure you were both on the same page. Now, it had direct intent behind it. 

“Y/N you are going to make me have a heart attack, and end up in one of these lousy beds.”, you both chuckled, “All I want is to expand our family. I’d love nothin’ more than to do just that.”, his eyes held nothing with love and desire for you as you nodded up at him. 

“Just, anything could’ve happened you know? Life is short, and I know for sure that I want more kids with you. I think Henry would be such an amazing big brother, and I am beyond happy with our marriage, I just don’t want to wait any longer.”

Tears had filled both of your eyes, and Ted cleared his throat. “But-”, you pouted, “After you get better. We need to let your body heal from all this, then we can have all the kids you want.”

There was no point in arguing with him, you knew he was right. “Even if I want 12 more?”

“Well then we’d be needing to talk mascots and team names”, you both laughed as you snuggled back against each other. 

As you fell asleep leaning against him, you knew you’d never take him or Henry for granted ever again. You were so thankful for your boys.

Thanks for reading!

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

*Found this image on Pinterest. No idea who to give credit to. Let me know if you know so I can properly praise them.

*This is it. This is the finale of “Small Time Witch”. It’s been on AO3 for a while and I sort of forgot to post it here. I hope those of you who have been reading it enjoy the ending. Comments and feedback are always welcome and encouraged.

Small Time Witch (34)

When you were 12 years old, your biological father was back in your life and fighting your mother for custody. It was the height of the “mutants are bad” craze which made a sympathetic judge rule in his favor. You spent a few weekends with him over the school year. Every Friday afternoon you would beg your mother to let you stay home. And every time she would have to force you into the car with him.

The custody agreement stated that you would spend your summers at his parents home in the Hamptons. The week leading up to your trip was horrible. Your mother and Helene fought daily. Helene wanted to hide you. Your mother was afraid if she didn’t comply that the judge would take you away forever. You cried in Bethany’s arms every night.

The day your father picked you up you could sense something was off. He was overly nice to your mother and Helene. He put his arm around you and called you “kiddo”. Helene made you promise you would call every night.

The drive was long. You had never been to the Hamptons before. You were sort of excited to meet new kids. He told you there would be a lot of them. After lunch you put in your earbuds and fell asleep. When you woke it was early evening. You were parked outside of a facility that looked like an old school house. Your father patted you on the head and said, “It’s for your own good.” Dr. Reyes introduced herself and two men forced you inside. You were a resident of The Milbury Hospital for two weeks.

They told you you would be working with the X-men but that was a lie. They experimented on you and pushed you to the point of excruciating pain to understand the source of your abilities. When Logan and Wade finally found you, you were near death and traumatized. You never saw your father again. Charles Xavier promised you that you would never again be used for your powers. He vowed you would never again be harmed or controlled by the government. He intended to keep his promises.

When he and Max arrived in Asgard, he reaffirmed this vow. In the most Charles Xavier way possible he told you to stay out of it.

“Wait, Professor, you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious. Do you think this is the last time we will face this kind of harassment? I assure you, my dear, it isn’t at your expense. You will remain on Asgard. Your family is safe. The Kale’s have been handled. You’ve done all you can.” He held your hand and smiled at you. You were ready to fight him on this when Max stepped in.

“Y/N, we have larger factions than you know who are fighting on our side. Some even within the government and SWORD. You have to trust us. Now show two old coots around the palace will you?”

Was it possible that these two old men staring down the barrel of senility Jedi mind tricked you into walking away? They sure as fuck did. And, what’s more is that you welcomed it. You finally let out the breath that you had been holding for ages and it felt glorious. There would be no more fighting. No more crying and screaming and battling. They effectively took it off your hands and told you to go live your life.

You showed them the palace, the gardens and the plaza. They shared a meal with you and your new family in court and were taken home before Wheel of Fortune. Why did this feel too perfect? Too wrapped up?

Noticeably your husband was quiet the entire time. That’s near impossible for him. He only spoke on occasion to share a bit of history or wax poetic about family traditions. His mouth was zipped shut when the two septuagenarians told you to make like Elsa and let it go.

In bed that evening you were beyond mad. You were indignant. How could he? He just didn’t take up for you at all. With all of your guard down he felt you working yourself up. He slowly turned the page of his book peeking at you from the corner of his eye. Your arms were crossed and you tapped your fingers incessantly against your opposite arm. You muttered something under your breath about how you would stick up for him.

“What was that, wife?” His tone was mocking and his lip drawn up in a smirk. You wanted to slap that stupid look off of his face. Your hand twitched as you flattened it against your thigh. “Something to say, darling?”

“Nope.” You extinguished the light on your side and rolled away from him. Every time he turned the page of his book you could hear the sound of the paper sliding over his finger. The angrier you got the louder it got. “Goodnight” you said through gritted teeth.

“Good night, pet. I love you.”

You snorted into your pillow and did not return his affections. Fuck you were petty. Little did you know you married the literal god of pettiness. He invented this game and he was willing to play until you were waving the white flag.

He raised one elegant eyebrow and chuckled to himself. If you were actually mad he’d be worried. Whatever this was was kind of cute. He continued to read until your chest was softly and rhythmically rising and falling in deep sleep. Your lips parted ever so slightly letting out soft snores. He pressed his lips to yours and situated himself around you. In the morning you wouldn’t be mad. He was sure of it.

——————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning Loki was wrapped around you like usual. You were a little embarrassed by how you treated him. You disengaged yourself from his grasp and rolled him onto his back. You slid under the covers and unceremoniously swallowed his cock. He arched his back and sucked in his breath.

“Good morning, Pet.” You didn’t stop. You were a woman possessed. He moaned and called your name as he fucked your face. You moaned back in encouragement. He filled your throat with his spend and collapsed back onto the bed.

“Morning.” you said as you wiped your mouth.

“If that’s your way of apologizing I accept. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Can I say no?” He stared at you waiting for you to continue. “Fine. I was upset that you didn’t take up for me with Max and the Professor.”

“Why would I when I agreed with them?”

Damn it. You agreed with them too. “I thought you’d be worried if I didn’t do what Mobius ordered.”

“About that. I’m going to handle it.”

“What? No!” You scrambled to your knees. “Lok, I’ve got this. He put his hand over your mouth to stop you from rambling.

“I rarely tell you what to do, Y/N but this time I must insist. You need to rest. Please don’t say another word. It will be handled.”

He felt responsible for all that transpired and what you had become. He knew those stones would overtake you one day. He had to make things right. Had to take this burden off of you. Had to get you through this so you could both finally rest.

He explained everything that Mobius told him. He had a lot to fix but assured you you wouldn’t even miss him. He would leave that afternoon and then you could live the rest of your lives. With his half of the Yggdrasil firmly affixed to his finger, he was off.

He was gone and back in less than twenty seconds. His hair looked longer and he was dog tired. But, it was all done. Before he could even kiss you the two of you were sucked down to the TVA. This time you faced upper management.

“Loki and Y/N Odinson. You have fulfilled your requirements to the TVA.” The manager in the middle rubber stamped a few files and dismissed you.

“Ummm, ma’am? Am I allowed to go back to Earth?” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course. I don’t know why you’d want to but yes.” You were downright giddy.

“Yay! That means I can see my mom and aunts. Oh I can’t wait. Maybe we can build our cottage again. She’ll be thrilled to have our babies running around. Why are you looking at me like that?”

He was on the verge of tears. “Y/N. The timeline was set back on course. Back to 2023. Your family is gone. Natasha is gone. Vision is gone. Tony is gone. And Steve….was the one timeline I didn’t fix. They let him go.”

“What do you mean? Who let him go?”

“After he put back the stones, he went back to Peggy. I was tasked with bringing him back but I just couldn’t do it.” Who knew Loki was such a softy? Before you could grieve you thought of your friends who were left behind.

“Wanda and Bucky?!”

“Bucky is ok. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Wanda is an entirely other story. I’ll explain along the way. Let’s go home, wife.”

When you got to your cottage it was exactly as you left it. The Avengers had defeated Thanos but left the world in utter chaos. All of the people who were snapped were back. It would take some time to sort out.

Sam was back home visiting his sister. Bucky was in DC. You had him over as soon as he was comfortable traveling. You spent a very drunken weekend crying over Steve and cursing his name. You wanted to make him forget but he was tired of people fucking with his head. Why would he want to forget his best pal? At least he still had you. He and Sam would continue to work. When Captain America called, you would always answer.

When you went to check in with Stephen Strange he filled you in on Wanda and Aunt Agatha. He told you in no uncertain terms that you should not try to wake Agatha. You wanted to go to Wanda but he warned against it. You were heartbroken that she had to grieve alone. What she went through. You couldn’t even fathom it. For now, you would stay out in your cottage where Strange could keep an eye on you. He didn’t trust either you or Loki with the stones.

You took Loki to visit New Asgard. Most of the citizens were happy to see him. Hilde not so much.

“Uh uh. No way. If you think you’re going to….Thor made me…I will send you back to Hel if you think you’re taking my crown.” Her knife was against his throat but he didn’t flinch.

Loki bowed to her, “My king.”

The smile that crossed her face was the most beautiful sunshine smile you’ve ever seen. She pulled you to her and kissed you deeply. You kissed her back despite the anger wafting off of Loki. You couldn’t stop giggling. You knew what she was doing. When she pulled away she pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of his face. “That’s better than him bowing to me.”

“God you’re a bitch.” you said as you peppered her neck with kisses. “I missed you, Hilde.”

“And I you, Kærasta.”

“I’m sorry. Did you just call my wife Kærasta?” You and Hilde broke into hysterical laughter.

“Relax, Lok. A lot happened when you were away.” You tried to soothe him but he pulled away.

“Looks like we’ll have to re christen the bed.”

“You’d better do the tub and hall shower while you’re at it. Oh and the kitchen table. Remember that night, Kærasta?”

You tried to change the subject, “Is Thor here?”

“Yeah actually. He heard you might swing by.” She drove you to his little hovel on the hill. He was sitting outside with Korg waiting for you. When you got out of the car he clapped his hands and laughed.

“I told you you were clever, little sister!” He wrapped you in a bear hug and thanked you over and over again.

With tears in his eyes, Loki hugged his brother. “It seems the sun is shining on Asgard once again, Brother.”

“So it seems.” Thor whispered against his hair.

You spent the night in New Asgard telling tales of the timeline you left. They were mightily impressed with your battle skills and how you defeated Thanos. Thor was happy that, in another universe, his parents lived. He was happy you were able to meet them and become so close.

The next morning you woke feeling much too hung over. You crawled back to the car promising you wouldn’t be a stranger. You were ready to go home.

“Come along, darling. I have to catch up on the last two seasons of Game of Thrones.”

“Oh. Honey. This gonna be a long weekend.”

And so you went back to your lives in the the only way you knew how. You spent eternity bickering and laughing. Fighting and fucking and all the while remaining madly and passionately in love. Two souls that would always be entwined no matter the circumstances. Two souls that were never really apart in the first place.

Outside of your little corner of the universe, the world was on fire. Nothing was normal. In between the battles and the bloodshed, your found family had a place to lay their heads and forget about life for a while. In your home there was always a clean bed and a hot meal and all the alcohol. In your little cottage built in the glen where the sun would shine through every morning like a spotlight, there was happiness.

[takerfoxx]

In response to JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, my (former) idols

I really didn’t want to have to do this.

So in addition to…=gestures vaguely=…all of that, the last few months have been kind of sucky when it comes to learning some really unpleasant things about artists that I looked up to, admired, and was in fact inspired by. I’ve already spoken about the Speaking Out movement revealing a lot of ugly behavior from various wrestlers, some of which I was big fans of, and then later we got Chris Jericho being a full-on MAGA. Yeah, that all sucked. But those were just performers whose work I enjoyed watching. The one that really hurt were writers who I deeply admired, whose stories I love, and who I was heavily influenced by.

The first, of course, was finding out that JK Rowling, the author of perhaps the single biggest YA fantasy series of all time Harry Potter, is a TERF. This really sucked for a number of reasons. Firstly, I really like Harry Potter! I mean, I’m not a super fan or anything. I came into it when things were kind of dying down, like the whole book series had already been released and there were only a few movies left, but I still really enjoyed it, have all the books and movies and a fair amount of merchandise swag, including a nifty wand I got at Universal Studios. Shit, I got two replicas of the Sword of Griffyindor, thanks to them screwing up my order in my favor and sending me a duplicate! They’re on my wall right across from me as I type this!

But in addition to writing a book series I really liked, JK Rowling was supposed to be one the good guys. She’s been vocally progressive, often openly comes down on British right-wing nonsense, has supported various persecuted minorities, and is on record as being one of the few self-made billionaires to actually stop being a billionaire for a time because she donated so much money to charity. And while we mock it now, her revealing Dumbledore as gay was a huge deal at the time. Plus, she cultivated this reputation as Auntie Jo, that cool, supportive aunt we all wanted.

But for a while her stock has been dropping. Her preference for confirming “representation” via tweets instead of explicitly putting it in the text of her stories has raised the question of queer-baiting, especially with a whole-ass movie with a young Dumbledore and Grindelwald to make their relationship explicit but failing to do so. The whole Nagini thing from the latest Fantastic Beasts movie was pretty gross. And re-examination of various problematic elements from the original novels has rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Now, none of these really looked to be intentionally malicious, of course. Just about everyone’s early work will have problematic elements; that’s just how people work. And the later stuff smacked more of ignorance than anything. But after all this time, it’s like, c’mon. You should know better by now.

But the biggie came when her transphobic views finally came to light. Now, this one had been brewing for a while, due to some questionable likes and statements on her twitter. But then she decided to just go public and published what essentially amounts to a TERF manifesto, one with a very “love the sinner, hate the sin” condescending attitude and had a real persecution complex air to it.

Now, I’m not going to go into detail about what the manifesto was about, what the circumstances surrounding it were, or how wrong it was. It’s already been raked over the coals, dissected, answered, and debunked in detail by people far more qualified than me, so odds are, you’re already well aware of its contents and the subsequent rebuttals. But the gist of it comes down to her basically believing that transwomen are actually cis men claiming to be trans so as to infiltrate and invade female-only spaces.

Yeah.

Okay, that’s gross, but…why? Why is someone so noted for being progressive and wanting to foster an inclusive environment making this the hill of exclusion that she wants to die on?

Well, that’s where things get tricky. She mentions that prior to Harry Potter, her first marriage was highly physically and sexually abusive, and when she escaped from that, she had no place to go, leading her to be homeless for a time.

Oh.

Well, that makes sense. Someone goes through a highly traumatic experience with a member of the opposite sex, has no support structure when she escapes it, is left to fend for herself, only to suddenly get rocketed into fame, fortune, and influence, which in turn leads to a Never Again mentality. She was hurt, no one was there to help her, and now she’s afraid of men invading women-only spaces to victimize others like she was victimized. So…literally transphobic. Literally a Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist.

Guys, this is so fucked up. Like, how do you even approach something like this? She’s a victim in every sense of the word, so of course she’s going to have physiological damage and a warped view of things. I mean, if I found out that a close friend of mine went through the same thing and had the same prejudices, I would be nothing but sympathetic! I mean, I’d still do what I can to convince her to overcome those prejudices, but I’d still show sympathy and support for what she went through.

Abuse warps people. There’s a reason why so many abusers are abuse survivors themselves. It makes you terrified of being hurt again and often causes people to adopt toxic behaviors, beliefs, and reactions to protect themselves. I’ve already talked about it at length while discussing She-Ra and its own handling of the cycle of abuse, which included franks discussions of Catra’s horrible behavior, why she was the way she was, while never losing sympathy for her and rooting for her to overcome it. So if JK Rowling is an abuse survivor, is it really right to come down on her for having warped views because of that abuse?

But that’s the problem. See, she isn’t your troubled friend that you’re trying to help. She isn’t your cousin Leslie who’s a really sweet person but unfortunately adopted some bad ideals due to trauma suffered. She JK freakin’ ROWLING, one of the most famous, wealthy, and influential women in the world. She has a platform of millions, if not billions, which means her voice lends credibility to her bigoted beliefs. Alt-righters and other TERFs have already swooped upon this for giving validation to their awful beliefs, which puts trans people even more at risk. And as horrible as Rowling’s experiences might have been, the trans community is often the victim of far worse, and they don’t have a mountain of money and an army of defenders to protect them like she does. I’ve said it time and time again: just because you’re a victim, that doesn’t give you the right to victimize others! And bringing things back to Catra, as much as I loved her redemption in the final season, she was still a TERRIBLE PERSON for a huge chunk of the show, one that needed to be stood up to and stopped.

So yeah. That’s the messiness that is JK Rowling.

Now, let’s talk about the one that really hurts. Let’s talk about Joss Whedon.

I’ve made no secret of what a huge Whedon fan I am. Unlike Rowling, I was a HUUUUUGE superfan. Seeing Serenity for the first time in theaters was akin to a religious awakening to me as a storyteller, making it one of my top three movies of all time. Firefly is my favorite show ever. And I adored Buffy, Angel, and Dollhouse as well. I love Cabin in the Woods and The Avengers. The very first fanfic I ever wrote was a Firefly fanfic that disappeared along with my old laptop. I know his style isn’t for everyone, but I cannot understate how much of a personal inspiration he is to me as a writer.

And like Rowling, Joss was supposed to be one of the good guys! Buffy was monumental in pushing the needle when it came to female empowerment. Will and Tara were groundbreaking as a gay couple. He’s been outspoken for years about his feminist views and beliefs and was seen as one of the most prominent and influential feminist voices in Hollywood!

And then things started to go bad.

One day he was on top of the world, the mastermind behind the first two Avenger movies. And the next, it seemed like he was in freefall. It’s hard to really pinpoint exactly when the change took place. Some would say him being brought in as a last-minute substitute for Zack Snyder to take over on Justice League after Snyder had to leave due to family tragedy, and the subsequent awful critical reception to that film tarnishing his image, even if those were very unique circumstances that couldn’t really be blamed on him. Others might point to Age of Ultron’s less than stellar reception, as well as criticism of some questionable jokes and certain creative decisions regarding the character of Black Widow, which then led to a more critical examination of how Whedon continues to write female characters, as while his work might have been revolutionary in the 90’s, his failure to evolve with the times had meant that many of his portrayals are now woefully outdated and problematic, with his vision for a Batgirl movie getting hit with a lot of backlash as a result.

Again, I’m not going to go into too much detail, as this is all public knowledge and can be easily looked up, but overall it seemed that Whedon entered into a period where he was getting criticized more than he was celebrated, and his image of a guaranteed hit maker was now in doubt.

But all of this wasn’t the big problem. All creators go through rises and slumps, and everyone hits points where they get hit with a barrage of criticism; that’s just part of being a public creative figure, especially a progressive one. And had nothing happened after, it would have probably faded, got forgotten, and Whedon would have moved onto the next project with no fuss.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t just a minor slump in his career. Instead, it was the priming of the pump.

In 2016, Whedon divorced his wife of sixteen years, Kai Cole, and in an open letter, Kai Cole accused him of being a serial cheater, who would have affairs with a great many women, from co-workers, to actresses, to friends, to even his fans. And in addition to raising questions of him possibly abusing his position as showrunner to elicit sex from those working on his projects, there also is the ugly question of how could someone who speaks so highly of women then go and backstab the person who was supposed to be the most important woman in his life, as well as lying to her and denying her the autonomy of deciding whether or not she even wanted to continue to have a relationship with him?

Furthermore, Whedon himself has not explicitly denied these accusations, and comments made by him seem only to confirm them.

Now if you’ll recall, I reacted publicly to this news, and despite my admiration of Whedon’s work, I came down on Kai Cole’s side, and stated that while things like marriage issues and infidelity were no one’s business but that of the couple’s, it did raise a lot of uncomfortable questions about how Whedon treated the women in his life and he really needed to get his shit in order.

But hey, a messy private life and a guy falling into temptation isn’t that big of a deal, right? Plenty of creators also go through multiple marriages and have problems staying faithful and still continue making great art. We’re all human, it’s a stressful job, and this shit just happens, right? Sure, it’s gross and a shitty thing to do, but ain’t no business of ours, right?

In late 2020, actor Ray Fisher, who played the role of Cyborg in Justice League, openly accused Joss Whedon of fostering a hostile work environment, claiming that the director’s behavior was abusive and unprofessional, and that Whedon in turn was protected by DC executives.

DC and Warner Bros. came down against Fisher, claiming they had done an internal investigation that turned up no evidence of wrongdoing (yeah, sure they did), and soon Fisher was out as Cyborg, apparently for rocking the boat.

But then Charisma Carpenter, noted for her important role as Cordelia Chase in both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, then spoke up, claiming to be inspired by Fisher in doing so. She described Whedon did indeed foster a hostile work environment on his projects, that his often acted in a toxic manner, from asking incredibly invasive and inappropriate questions regarding her pregnancy to insulting her on set. She said that she made excuses for him for years, but after undergoing a lot of therapy and reading what Ray Fisher had to say, she felt compelled to speak out.

And this just open the floodgates. Other actors and actresses also came forward, some with stories of their own, others to offer support. Even Buffy herself, Sarah Michelle Gellar, confirmed Carpenter’s stories and said that she no longer wanted to be associated with Whedon. Michelle Trachtenberg, who played the character of Dawn, stated that she also experienced toxic treatment from Whedon despite her being a minor at the time, and says that the set had a rule that Whedon wasn’t allowed to be alone with her again, which really raises some sickening questions of what happened the first time. Even male stars have spoken out, from words of support and apologies for not speaking up earlier from Anthony Stewart Head and David Boreanaz, to an earlier interview with James Marsters, in which he described being terrified of Whedon, mainly due to an instance when Whedon was frustrated with the popularity of Marsters’s character of Spike messing with his plans and physically and verbally taking it out on the actor. There have been many corroborating stories of Whedon being casually cruel on set, on seemingly taking delight in making his fellow show writers cry, and even the man himself admitting to enjoying fostering a hostile work environment during his director commentary of the Avengers. We’ve joked about Whedon’s supposed sadism for years, but that was in regards to how he treated the characters in his stories, not the people helping him make them!

So yeah. That’s the problem with Joss Whedon.

So, do I think that Joss Whedon is somehow some kind of sociopath who lied about his feminist principles and deliberately put on a progressive façade specifically to get into a position of power so he could torment people? No, of course not. I think he was sincere about his beliefs, and I do think he didn’t realize the wrongness of his behavior. But that’s kind of the problem. See, it’s one thing to have kind of a trollishness to your nature, a sort of sadistic side. No one can help that. But when someone with that quality gets put into a position of power in which they are protected by both the higher-ups and their legions of fans, they are allowed to mistreat and continue to mistreat people. And by never suffering any consequences, that sort of toxic behavior becomes internalized, becomes a habit, becomes their moda operandi. And when you’re constantly getting praised as a creative genius and a wonderful feminist voice, any self-criticism just gets wiped away, and you think yourself above reproach, leading to what Joss Whedon became and went on being.

And you know what scares me the most about this particular issue? It’s not that I am a fan of his stories. It’s that I can so easily see myself turning out the same way.

Look, I’ll be upfront about it: I’m kind of a sadist myself. You’ve seen it in my stories, you’ve seen me gloating after a particularly dark plot twist makes my readers freak out. That sort of stuff is fun to me. There’s a reason why I have a much easier time in the dark and violent scenes, because I’m channeling something ugly within me. We all have a dark side, and this is mine.

But UNLIKE Whedon, that doesn’t carry over to how I treat people in real life (unless Monopoly or Mario Party are involved, then it’s fair game). Maybe it’s because I wasn’t given the sort of power and praise he did so early, and I was always taught to be considerate of other people’s feelings, but if I ever find out that I hurt another person or went too fair, I feel TERRIBLE, and it just throws me off all day until I apologize. Even if I don’t notice right away that what I said or did wasn’t cool (autistic, remember?), when it’s pointed out to me and I have some time to think on it, yeah, the guilt is on and I make a point to apologize to whoever I’ve hurt. I’ve even made a point to apologize to members of my family for inconsiderate stuff I said years ago as a little punk kid because it wouldn’t stop bugging me.

So maybe Whedon got too big, too fast. Maybe putting people on these sorts of pedestals, especially progressive ones, is ultimately a bad thing.

So where does this leave us? How are we to treat JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, one who developed a lot of transphobia due to abuse suffered while the other became a toxic individual due to unchecked control and a lack of consequences? Can we still enjoy their stories despite them now being colored by their creators’ falls from grace? Can we separate the art from the artist, or do we have to do a clean split?

Honestly, I feel that has to come down to the individual. I can’t remove the influence Rowling and Whedon have had on me as a storyteller, and I still highly respect both of their talents despite taking major issue with their problems as people. And I’m not going go throw away all of my Harry Potter or Firefly stuff. Because that’s my stuff. It has value to me, it doesn’t represent the issues with their creators, and a lot of it was gifts from people who are dear to me. Though I do think it’ll be a long time before I return to either of their work, as I just don’t have the stomach for it now.

But I will be avoiding any projects they have in the future. I don’t want to put money in their pockets that might go on to support their toxic beliefs or behavior. And as for royalties for their past work that would also support the cast and crew of the Harry Potter films or those who worked on Whedon’s shows who do not deserve to lose money because we don’t want any of that money going to the creators? Er, that question is a little above my paygrade. I don’t know. You’ll have to all decide for yourselves. As for me, I still have a lot of thinking to do.

Regardless though, if I or anyone else is still able to enjoy their work, then it’s important to not divorce what these people said or did from the art they created, even if it makes enjoying that art less fun. It’s important to be critical about what we enjoy, to acknowledge the bad aspects along with the good, and open up discussion of those elements, because that’s what mature adults are supposed to do. 

And as for JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, whose stories I love, whose talent I admire, and whose past good work I’ll happily acknowledge, I do hope they both experience some sort of realization and enter into a period of self-examination that leads to them getting help for their issues, for Rowling to get help in coming to terms with her trauma and realizing that she’s wrong about the trans community and a full apology, and for Whedon to also come to terms with his toxic behavior and how he treats people, for him to make no excuse for what he did and sincerely apologize to those he hurt and work on bettering himself, as well as them both examining some of the more problematic tropes still present in their works. Because despite everything, I do feel that they can still be a creative force of good, and it would be a shame if they let themselves self-destruct.

But if not, then if it comes down to choosing between Rowling and the protecting the trans community, if it comes down between choosing between letting Whedon continue to make shows and protecting actors and writers from his abusive behavior, then I know who I’m siding with, and it ain’t the two individuals this whole essay is about. No story, no matter how good, no matter how creative, is worth letting sacrificing vulnerable people in order for it to be made.

[mst3kproject]

Dracula vs Frankenstein (1971)

 I’ve been meaning to get to this one for a while.  It was directed by Al Adamson and stars Lon Chaney Jr. from Indestructible Man in his last and worst film.  Also featuring appearances by Greydon Clark (director of Angel’s Revenge), Forest J. Ackerman (the comic book guy from Future War), and Jim Davis (the grandpa from The Day Time Ended, not the guy who invented Garfield), and generally being one of the shoddiest and most confusing movies I’ve ever sat through, it is a mystery to me why Joel chose Carnival Magic and just left Dracula vs Frankenstein sitting there.  Maybe it was the widescreen thing.

It’s hard to say what the hell is going on in this movie but I’ll give it a try.  Under the cover of a carnival freak show, mad Dr. D’Ray is decapitating nubile young women and then sewing their heads back on, because… uh… because.  One night, his work is interrupted by none other than Count Dracula!  The Count reveals that he knows D’Ray’s secret – D’Ray is really the last surviving member of the Frankenstein family, and Dracula has recovered the body of the original Frankenstein’s Monster and wants D’Ray to help him bring it to life, because… uh… because.  Meanwhile, a woman named Judith Fontaine is looking for her sister, Joannie, who was last seen on the beach near Dr. D’Ray’s Creature Emporium.  Judith and her boyfriend Mike eventually find their way into D’Ray’s lair, and the doctor and his various deformed assistants (obviously he has deformed assistants) are all killed as the couple attempt to escape again.  What Judith and Mike don’t know is that they’re not safe yet.  They still have Dracula to deal with!

That outline actually only represents a fraction of the madness in Dracula vs Frankenstein.  There’s a rapey biker gang and a bunch of noticeably over-age hippies who seem to think they’re in a very different movie.  There’s D’Ray’s hunchback Groton and his pet puppy, and Grazbo the Angry Midget. There’s the stunningly unhelpful detective who’s supposed to be looking for Joannie.  D’Ray brings the Frankenstein Monster back to life with the help of a magical comet.  The idea that creatures like Dracula and the Frankenstein Monster actually exist is treated as obvious and commonplace, and the climactic fight between the two is over who gets to feel up Judith.  It’s a mess.

The reason Dracula vs Frankenstein is such a mishmash of incongruous ideas, at least according to El Santo of 1000 Misspent Hours, is that Adamson filmed for a while, then ran out of money and had to set the project aside while he raised more.  During this intermission, he got a bunch of new ideas, and had to shoehorn them in with what he’d already shot to turn his original sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll film into a monster-versus-monster piece.  It should therefore surprise nobody if the results are about as graceful as a giraffe on roller skates.

The two title monsters are astonishingly shitty. Frankenstein’s Monster looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy gone horribly wrong.  He looks like his head got stepped on and they couldn’t afford to fix it. The first time you see him, when Dracula digs him out of a cemetery, you can barely tell you’re supposed to be looking at something’s face – it looks like a mass of home-made play-dough that’s been left out in the sun.  He has claws for some reason.  That sequence of similes still doesn’t do justice to just how absolutely terrible he looks, and yet, shockingly, he’s less stupid than Dracula.

Oh, god, this movie’s Dracula.  His face is slathered in Observer makeup (though his hands aren’t, probably because it would have gotten all over everything) and he wears bright red lipstick and fake fangs that don’t allow him to fully close his mouth.  His vinyl cape almost definitely came from Party City. His voice echoes like he’s talking into an empty garbage can, even when he’s sitting in the back seat of a car. He has an incredibly funky goatee and a ring that shoots fire.  Everything he says and does is deeply, self-consciously dramatic and it all comes to an absurd crescendo in the series of priceless faces he makes as he turns to dust in the sun.

On a scale of absurd theatricality, Dr. D’Ray is only shortly behind him.  The mad doctor dresses like Colonel Sanders, has some classic evil facial hair, and spends much of his screen time monologuing… but nothing he says ever makes a lick of sense. The stuff that comes out of his mouth is literally indescribable so I’m going to have to give you some examples:

Rambling in his lab, D’Ray describes his work as follows: “human blood is the essence from which future illusion may be created, but the secret is not to have the blood at rest.  No, the circulatory system must experience a traumatic shock, one that is inconceivable to the human mind.  The idea of trauma is not a new one, but I am sure I am the first such experimenter to incorporate the horror of an actual decapitation into later rejuvenation of a human body!”  This is evidently supposed to be a justification for the sewing-heads-back-on thing – it ‘activates’ the blood and allows D’Ray to make his ‘serum’.  He then injects that ‘serum’ into Groton, who transforms into an axe-wielding maniac.  Later, Dracula claims that the same ‘serum’ would have made him invincible.  I, uh… what?

Sorry, I was talking about D’Ray’s monologuing.  When describing his Creature Emporium, D’Ray informs some guests, “the greatest mysteries in the world are not mysteries at all, unless we take time to become familiar with them.”  Isn’t that the opposite of how mysteries work?  It’s easy to believe in, say, the Loch Ness Monster, until you familiarize yourself with the history of the ‘evidence’ and realize that it’s almost all complete bullshit.

When Dracula shows up, D’Ray declares, “I am too old and too sick to be interested or surprised by anything, but when a man comes into my house and casts no reflection on my mirror, and on his hand wears the unholy crest of Dracula, there is no scientific answer to anything.  Now, what is on your mind, Count Dracula?” Honestly, this nonsense is spoken with such conviction that you almost don’t notice that the end of the sentence has nothing to do with the beginning.

The movie has two things that might qualify as a ‘special effect’.  One is Dracula’s zappy fire ring.  It’s crummy, but you can tell what they’re going for.  The other is the ‘comet’ that is instrumental in giving life to the Frankenstein Monster.  This is represented by a slow pan past a flickering light bulb against a black background.  Even having just heard Dracula talking about the importance of the comet, it took me a minute to figure out what I was supposedly seeing – it’s that bad.  This might be halfway forgivable if the comet were somehow important to the plot… if the Monster, for example, had to complete some mission before it sets or something.  But it’s totally gratuitous.  They could have taken that out, avoided a distractingly awful effect, and made the movie a little bit shorter!

As for meaning anything… Dracula vs Frankenstein does not, and indeed seems to go out of its way to avoid it.  The events that unfold are remarkably meaningless.  Judith finds her sister Joannie, who is not dead but neither is she alive, and then the story just forgets about Joannie and gives her no resolution.  Hippie girl Samantha is saved from being raped by her angry ex and his biker gang, but then she, too, is entirely forgotten.  D’Ray and his henchmen die in a series of contrived accidents that serve no purpose but getting them out of the way so that Dracula and the Monster can fight uninterrupted.  This is particularly anticlimactic because so far, D’Ray has been presented as our main baddie.  Dracula disintegrates Mike with his magic ring and then the movie rushes to its climax without giving either Judith or the audience time to deal with it.  Dracula, the movie’s actual main baddie, just turns to dust in the sun.

There are a couple of moments that are probably supposed to be social commentary, but they have nothing to do with the meandering main plot. One is the scene where a hippie guy says to his girlfriend, “let’s get ready for the big protest tonight.”  She asks, “what are we protesting this time?” and he shrugs and replies, “I dunno, but I bet it’s fun.”  Later we see this protest, which does seem to have a major ‘party’ component and features some very unspecific placards being waved.  In another sequence there’s a druggie bar with the walls covered in graffiti that say things like POT and SOCIETY SUCKS.

Boy, I bet Adamson was really proud of sticking it to those angry young people.

Dracula vs Frankenstein is mesmerizingly bad.  Usually the best bad movies are the kind where you can follow the story a bit, so you aren’t wasting time wondering what the hell is going on instead of appreciating the nonsense dialogue and unconvincing effects.  Dracula vs Frankenstein is a singular exception.  You never have any idea what anybody’s doing and yet somehow it doesn’t matter… the movie gives up on making sense very early, and just forges merrily ahead, dragging you along behind it.  What’s actually happening never matters enough to distract.  I honestly don’t know if this is a point in the movie’s favour or not… but it would have made a hell of an MST3K episode.

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #9 (1993)

I bet Guy Gardner makes a "Wood is your biggest weakness!" joke.

Back in the late 80s/early 90s, there were two stories that every single DC comic book had to tell: the protagonist battles and defeats Lobo and the protagonist puts Guy Gardner in his place. The first one proved that the protagonist could beat the toughest bastich in the DC Universe. The second was just satisfying to a lot of customers. I hated every single one of these stories. Except maybe the Hitman story where they defeat Lobo by taking pictures of Bueno Excellente ass-fucking the unconscious Lobo. I don't think that's using rape in an offensive way because Lobo was a murderous, genocidal psychopath and Bueno Excellente loved to fuck things in the ass. I suppose my love of Lobo and Guy Gardner in my teens and twenties says something unpleasant about me. But you can't deny that Lobo was the character every DC fan most wanted to fuck. And I mean every DC fan. I still find it weird that somebody could create a character that was both super sexy and also looked like a clown. And I just felt sympathy for Guy Gardner. These were the days before you had to account for mental illness and traumatic brain injury when assessing somebody's personality and attitude. But I was there for you, Guy! I knew what you'd been through and how unfairly everybody treated you! If only Harley Quinn could have been around to tell everybody to stop being so hard on Guy because he was suffering from severe brain trauma and couldn't help flying into rages on a near constant basis. Instead we just had Batman to lay Guy out in one punch and "fix" his personality until he was hit on the head again like some amnesiac Fred Flintstone. When we last left the Justice Society of America, the people of Earth were being driven toward hatred due to the unearthing of Kulak by Hawkman and Hawkwoman. It reminds me of something that happened in 2016 but I just can't quite put my finger on it.

I suppose if comic book artists can't help making corpses sexy, I shouldn't be surprised that they're making me think about fucking a seventy year old.

I know Joan Garrick is just a fictional drawing but at least I'm honest about when fictional drawings of old people and corpses give me a boner.

"One cop's nightmare." Yeesh. I'm afraid to ask how this movie ends.

Doctor Mid-Nite relaxes at home listening to the radio while coming up with old man takes to impress his young assistant.

Just wait until he gets a load of Twitter and Internet memes!

Thunderbolt and his dull friend work out that some kind of sorcery is affecting the Justice Society members, causing everybody to despise them. But it doesn't seem super important so Johnny Thunder decides to leave it for morning. I can't blame him for not knowing the whole world can burn down in that time; he isn't outside the story like I am so he can't perceive the whole of it all. Normally I would blame him and call him an idiot but I'm feeling charitable tonight. Thunderbolt does rush off to investigate because he senses something familiar. So at least the Hex Bolt is being cautious instead of lazy. And maybe Johnny isn't being lazy but have you seen the way he's drawn? It's not like he's in a hurry for anything except maybe a nap. Meanwhile, a new program has popped up: Current Affairs Spotlight. It's basically the Kulak version of Fox News, reporting questions that they don't really want to answer but by simply asking them causes their audience to distrust the subject of the questions. On a related note, Sean Hannity is a huge piece of shit.

I mean, they do have "society" in their name. They were just asking for the socialist accusation.

Alan Scott smashes the television and flies off in a rage. I guess I know who else was watching that program and believed every bit of it because his traumatic brain injury causes problems with his ability to assess the validity of facts over propaganda! It seems like I know a lot of people like that these days. I forgot Alan Scott runs a television station until he starts complaining about the propaganda airing on his station. He says, "I don't think that Molly should be censoring programming, but the station should have some standards. And she knows that report is sensational nonsense." Welcome to modern media, Alan! It's no longer up to the standards of the station to decide what bullshit should be shoveled onto the viewing public! Now it's just about how much money can be made on advertising while espousing some kind of freedom of speech fair exchange of ideas nonsense! It's exactly the problem that has been exploited by people who actually want less free speech. You muddy and obfuscate the truth by putting out whatever outlandish bullshit you can come up with and then if a station refuses to air it, you claim they're biased toward the side of the political spectrum you're trying to fuck over with your bullshit. I mean, that's Fox News. The other stations are the ones that have been cowed by Fox News into being horrible both sides news vehicles. Guy Gardner attacks Alan on the way to the television station because Guy was watching the show, of course. Remember, random television news broadcasts was once how super heroes got all of their breaking news alerts! How could they fight crime otherwise?!

A man with a traumatic brain injury has the same general understanding of fascism and political theory as the average Fox News viewer.

Guy Gardner doesn't make a wood weakness joke because he doesn't know about Alan Scott. Len's idea for this battle was probably, "Guy can only beat Green Lanterns because he's cheating using that yellow ring! But now let's see him fight a fair fight against a Green Lantern!" Which is exactly what happens! Alan Scott gives Guy a lesson on how to be a Green Lantern. I'm sure later, when Guy isn't being manipulated by Kulak, he'll process the information and accept it as wise words and valued experience from an old timer. Or he'll just vent and fume and look for an occasion to get even with him. After defeating Guy, all of the normal people on the street begin attacking the Justice Society and calling them fascists and commies. I'll accept their gullibility because it was caused by sorcery. Otherwise I'd be rolling my eyes at, once again, every regular citizen of the DC Universe being bamboozled by some demagogue. Hawkman drives up to save the day but instead just drives everybody right into Kulak's clutches.

I am surprised that Thunderbolt being driven on a stake through his asshole made it into a Comics Code Authority book.

Justice Society of America #9 Rating: B+. Sure Guy Gardner got his ass kicked like usual but at least Guy Gardner was in the comic book! That totally made it worth it to me! Except for how he was portrayed and the lines they gave him and the assumption that everybody thinks he's stupid and the idea that his only redeeming quality is being tough. But he looked like Guy and they called him Guy and he made some yellow rockets with his ring! So cool!

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 22--Listless

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “Listless.” Ienzo isn’t okay.

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

---

Something wasn’t right.

Ienzo stared deeply into his plans, spread across the worktable and anchored by his research. He bit his lip. It had all been revised and engineered within an inch of its life; yet something was off, wrong. Was it the angles of the joints of the walls?

Maybe it had nothing to do with its creation, and all to do with its creator.

He had a vicious headache. Ienzo took off his glasses and rested his face in his hand for a moment, trying to rub away the pain. Ever since his confrontation with Even, and in the light of Ansem’s overwhelming depression, Ienzo was feeling increasingly shaken, and increasingly anxious. Sleeping was getting more and more difficult again.

Demyx didn’t seem to be doing well either.

It was clear that the poisoning had shaken him. For a few weeks after it happened, Demyx remained mostly in their apartment. He slept a lot, picked at Arpeggio aimlessly, songs that made no coherent sense to Ienzo. Ienzo first attributed this exhaustion to the aftereffects of the poison, but it seemed to go on longer than it should. This must have traumatized him; he was self-conscious enough when it came to his competency, and he could have taken this as a sign he was unwanted in the community. Ienzo was able to analyze Demyx’s mental state with ease; but he himself was too tired to be of any real help. He felt as though he were constantly carrying another dozen or so kilos.

Ienzo, too, just wanted to rest. The early winter day was cold. He would go home, he decided. He would take a bath and make himself some tea and he would read a perfectly awful book, and he would wait for this to blow over.

Would it?

The anxiety threatened to pull him into a spiral. What if this happiness they’d had had been temporary? His growth and healing falsified? He should have known better than to believe they would have a happy ending, or any ending for that matter.

Was this illogical?

He unlocked the apartment door. There Demyx was, curled under the covers. His gummiphone was on the bed beside him, but he didn’t look at it. He barely moved when Ienzo came into the room. Ienzo took off his shoes and slacks and crawled under the blankets as well. He pulled him close, a gesture that sought more to take comfort than to give it.

Demyx turned, and for a moment they faced each other, wordlessly.

“Are you alright?” Ienzo asked.

“No. You?”

“No.” At least he’d come this far, to be able to admit it. “The world lately has felt so very heavy.” He could feel the pinch in his throat, of oncoming tears, and tried to fight it. “I know you’re hurting, and I want to help, but I--”

“It’s okay,” Demyx said. “I know you’re dealing with a lot. You can’t take care of people when you’re drowning.”

“I used to.”

“Then is not now.” He looked so exhausted, his hair flat, circles under his eyes. “I’m not… going anywhere. I just need some rest.”

“I can’t help but wonder…” It was warm under the covers, but still he shook. “What if this is all temporary, you know?”

“I know. God, do I know.”

“I know this is merely a relapse, of sorts. That these are conditions I have to manage and live with for the rest of my life. But they’re so close to convincing me this is how I’ll always be. I’m not that person. I’m logical, I reason. It feels so draining.”

His face crumpled a little. “I know. They… they triggered you. You have to deal with it. Repressing that pain makes it so much worse.” A sob caught in his throat.

“I’m truly sorry,” Ienzo said. “You’re reeling from this trauma, and I--”

“I’ve been talking through it with Aerith.” He looked ashamed to admit it. “She gave me some pills, to help manage things… they make me so tired.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough on your plate. Besides, I should be… better in a week or two. When the chemicals in my head stabilize. Or whatever.” He didn’t make eye contact.

Ienzo knew that it wasn’t that simple. “Demyx…”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Ienzo touched Demyx’s face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days; the pale stubble was scratchy. “There has to be something I can do.”

“You can. You can take care of yourself.”

He inhaled. “You’ll tell me, if things get much worse?”

“Of course.”

Ienzo wanted to believe him. Yet it was so much easier to worry about Demyx than his own increasing instability.

“I mean it, Ienzo. I’m not done with you.”

The smile seemed to take some effort. “Okay.”

---

He tried to get some rest.

He pulled himself away from the memorial, away from the internal. He assisted Even with some simple chemical experiments, had lunch with Ansem, went on a few rounds with Aeleus. Anything to keep his hands and body occupied. Idle hands make the devil’s work. He understood.

Ienzo was determined not to overwork, just to get his mind off of heavier things until he could unravel them a bit more cleanly. Maybe if he let it percolate a bit more, it would grow clearer.

On one of these rounds with Aeleus, they discovered what had evidently been a mother cat’s nest; there were several rodent skeletons, along with damp red stains of birth. But the mother and her kits were gone; aside from a small, wriggling lump in the makeshift scraps of fabric.

“Oh, poor thing,” Ienzo whispered. It was tiny, possibly the runt; its white and brown fur slightly matted. He was shocked to see it was still breathing, but hesitantly so; who knew how long it had been sitting here without its mother. He took the kitten into his hands, to try and warm it up a little bit. Its eyes were crusted over, possibly infected, and it trembled a little.

“It must be sick,” Aeleus said. “Perhaps we should… end its suffering.” It pained him to say this, his blue eyes glinting. “Mothers don’t usually abandon their young unless they feel it’s a lost cause.”

Ienzo stared at the kitten. So small. Yet, the thought of stamping out its life repulsed him. “Well, I certainly wasn’t,” he said. “Perhaps… I want to at least try to nurse it.” He felt like a child. Oh please, oh please can I keep it?  “Demyx might be able to help me.”

Aeleus nodded, a shade of relief gracing his otherwise stoic face. “We could use a mouser.”

---

The first few days he was certain the kitten wouldn’t make it, and any attempts to treat its myriad illnesses felt like Ienzo was just prolonging its suffering. Demyx was only able to help so much--he knew humans, not cats--and for several hours Ienzo dripped milk and antibiotics intermittently into its small mouth. At least it was swallowing, and breathing. He kept as constant of an eye on it as he could, rubbing its small belly to stimulate digestion, wiping the pus from its eyes. He didn’t let it out of his sight and held it as much as he could, because it was so so tiny and so cold. Even the incubation lamp he was able to borrow from Even didn’t seem to do much good.

“You’re going to cause yourself more hurt,” Even said gently. “I can… I can put it to rest painlessly, without violence.”

“I think she wants to live. She’s eating.”

Even shook his head. “If this is how you wish to spend your time. You can probably adopt a healthy cat at the market.”

It took about a week of this, of trying different medicines and drops for its tiny eyes, before the kitten seemed to turn the corner. Its breaths were less labored, it was eating even more; it seemed to gain a few grams every day. Then the pus stopped weeping from its eyes and it gave a tiny, scratchy mew. And for some reason this unraveled him; Demyx found him bawling over the kitten and assumed it had died. Before long, its eyes opened--a temporary blue--to a startling new world.

Ienzo wasn’t sure what this whole ordeal had revealed about himself. The symbolism of it wasn’t lost on him. This uncomplicated kindness was a relief.

She lived.

She went from being on the verge of death to being constantly underfoot, or climbing all over things, up to and including the curtains. She found a particular interest in Demyx’s sitar, trying to crawl over the frets. “Well,” Demyx said, “At least she’s not a critic.”

As she got bigger, she slept on (and in) the bed. She seemed to sense their nightmares; more than once Ienzo woke up to her purring next to his cheek, even as he woke in a cold sweat.

The cat was a comfort to them both. But it still took weeks to name her. Demyx suggested silly names like Jat or Rocks, Ienzo found himself thinking about it entirely too hard, going so far as to look into nomenclature before finally Demyx said, “You know it’s a cat, right?”

One morning Demyx woke up with her paws on his face. All he said was “Beans.”

And Ienzo groaned, because he knew in his heart that the cat’s name was Beans. As stupid as it was. He tried to shorten it to Bea, or Bebe, but the cat didn’t respond to that. She, great comforter of anxiety, was now named after the legume family.

So it goes.

But she did help shake him out of that horrible spiral, and for that she was worth her weight in, well, beans. He could work near her, scratch the soft spot behind her ears, and get back to clear and concise thinking. It was grounding. He wondered how much of his childhood suffering would have been nullified if he’d just had a pet. It was something to look forward to, a concrete reason to exist; Beans needed him. As complex as he tried to be, really simple comforts meant more than intense psychological analysis.

Gradually, the sense of heaviness that had been plaguing him began to fade, and he felt again hopeful. In a small way he would always resent how much control his emotions had over him, how they would muddy thoughts that had once been so easy to grasp. But this was part of humanity, and there was no going back.

[lucispietate]

Dear Hurt/Comfort Exchange writer

Hello, fellow writer! First of all, I really want to thank you in advance for taking up the challenge to make something for me, I appreciate it so much. I really enjoy being surprised (especially with pairings where Canon leaves a lot to the imagination and everyone has their own headcanon) so you're absolutely free to write anything you wish and mostly take this letter as suggestions if you need inspiration.

I don't have much to say for likes, I have some fandom specific ones but overall I'm fine with anything. I tend to love heavy introspection, conflicted relationships and angst with an happy ending/bittersweet tone, but I'm really fine with anything. I also want to point out that you're free to combine my tags/prompts however you wish and that while I didn't bother to include "both hurt" for any of these ships, it's absolutely always allowed. As for dislikes: - any kind of dub con and on page rape unless otherwise specified. I can accept harassment and such, but not too graphic - AUs, especially fluffy modern AUs and supernatural ones (Canon divergence within the original universe is fine and encouraged) My only real exception is Romeo and Juliet where I do enjoy modern AUs as long as they still keep the violence/hate/gang war element of the play - sex described in any detail. I'm not bothered by it and I don't mind allusions, jokes or fade to black, but the scenes itself hold no interest for me - cheating (jealousy is fine and so is crushing on more than one person at once with all the guilt it entails, as long as it leads to poly, healthy or not, or stays a frustrated wish) - unrequited love that doesn't get resolved either by the two getting together or the pining person finding their true love - eating disorders or tbh even dwelling on appearance related insecurity is a no no

GOTHAM

I want to preface I'm a DC newbie, so I can't really appreciate crossovers or influence from other media and I wouldn't want futurefic, especially not involving BatCat, I just want to see them as kids For BatCat I would prefer something set between season 1 and the first few episodes of season 3, before they start their weird on/off relationship. The one exception would be the killing for the first time prompt, in relation to what Bruce does in the beginning of season 4, and that horrible plot line with Selina's mom since it's such an ansgt/hurt comfort goldmine . I think canon offers a lot of possibilities with them already, they do a lot of rescuing each other and I'd like anything that is cute and sweet. Something from their time living on the street together would be adorable too.

For Selina/Bridgit I would be happy with anything: a cute moment of them living on the streets as kids, Selina helping Bridgit to work through Dr Strange's conditioning, or something angstier while Bridgit still thinks she's a goddess and Selina her servant and Selina trying to show how much affection as she can while in that framework and things that blur the lines between comfort and act of service/worshipping like washing, taking of care of poor little Bridgit's burns etc.

For Oswald/Ed... Wow, there's so much potential. Any moment from their first meeting, a What If where Oswald regrets his deeds and decides to thaw Ed himself and then nurse him back to health, the two of them adopting Martin... Anything really, I haven't read much on these two

GAME OF THRONES

What I want with Yara/Dany is mostly something to give me joy after that godawful ending. So I would love something set post ending, with Dany being exiled/imprisoned, in a terrible mental state and only Yara who's still loyal/taking care of her. Though also Yara coming to terms with her last brother's death would be something wonderful

SIX OF CROWS

No particular ideas here. Any moment pre—book with them getting hurt in missions, Inej's first kill, the tattoo removal, or something like what happened in the prisoner cart, with Kaz having a serious breakdown and Inej being the only one to notice and try to comfort him, knowing most of her instinctive reactions would make everything worse because of his issues

INHERITANCE CYCLE

Murtagh and Nasuada are my childhood otp and I would honestly squeal to get anything at all about them would make me giggly. I like the idea of an AU where Murtagh is rescued early with baby Thorn in a tow before Galbatorix can completely break them with the torture, or something more emotional/psychological post saga, where they must help each other heal from their Shared Trauma and mental issues they both seem to have in the last few chapters. If and only IF you feel like it, this is the one fandom where I am ok with sexual abuse as a past event as I used to occasionally write Galbatorix as having had a relationship with Morzan in their former days and viewing Murtagh as a replacement in more than one sense.

ROMEO AND JULIET This is somewhat complex. First of all I want to say I made somewhat of a mistake in nominations phase by nominating some d ships as All media types while others nominated some as Shakespeare, but I'm absolutely ok with fic based on Shakespeare or any production of Presgurvic's musical. Exceptions are the 2010 revival and ensuing tour and Takarazuka productions. Also while I said I am okay with AUs here, I'd prefer they not be based on the 1996 movie in aesthetic/characterization, though the stakes/situation of the feud is a good example of what I imagine for modern au. Now going specifically about each of my prompts:

For the Romeo/Juliet ones I mostly want emotional hurt/comfort, either set during their wedding night or in a AU where they manage to leave together. It always bothered me that it's assumed they just went straight to fucking on their wedding night: I love the idea that they, well, somewhat fought over the Tybalt issue, snuggled, comforted each other for their losses and imminent separation and Romeo's obviously very traumatizing murder experience, maybe got to know each other a bit more and shared about their insecurities, their clearly a lot to unpack family baggage... There's lot of potential here. I am very attached to the play, so I do like to believe in them being soulmates/true love rather than a random fling, silly as that is, so I'd like the tone of the whole thing to be according, and I am pretty attached to the canon ages too (almost 14 as per canon for Juliet and please not too much older Romeo) so ofc the no sexual stuff beyond the vaguest throwaway mention rule holds especially true here.

Regarding the Montague boys anything tied to the pretty self explanatory prompts is perfectly fine, either set in the present or as a cute childhood flashback. I would definitely appreciate some kind of AU where they all live but are badly hurt or mentally scarred in the course of the events Now, for the various combinations of Benvolio/Mercutio/Tybalt... again, plenty of self explanatory tags. I think these three characters and which tags would best fit which of them are very dependent on personal headcanons and I don't want to limit that at all, especially for individual relationships as opposed to the ot3. I'm definitely very interested in exploring the dynamics of their love triangle and possible polyamory and the obvious hurtful effects it has, (I generally see Mercutio as the center with Benvolio and Tybalt somewhat disliking each other at the beginning, though that can absolutely change, later! ) jealousy, feeling of inferiority by each of the boys, guilt, abandonment issues, the like. My first instinct is to imagine Bencutio as together and Tycutio as bitter exes who may or may not go for another round at any moment, but the reverse or any other combination of Drama is fine too. I also love scenarios, for either individual ships or ot3, that explore the effect of the feud on their lives: someone having to be nursed back to health after a duel gone too far, someone being traumatized by their first serious act of violence, the unrealistic expectations/responsibility/toxic masculinity Tybalt and Benvolio are loaded by their families and so on. An AU where Mercutio survives the duel but is very badly hurt and Tybalt is guilt stricken by his own deed and starts to realize his feelings for him as he helps take care of him would be lovely.

[giftedsupport]

Re-parenting yourself

Lots of gifted kids have childhood wounds from bullies, teachers, and adults who harmed their self-esteem. Lots of us also had parents and teachers who didn’t fully understand how to nurture the gifted children in their care. Furthermore, studies have shown that gifted children suffer more from childhood emotional abuse and neglect--but are also capable of healing more quickly and fully when given the tools to do it. You can re-parent yourself and heal the wounds of your childhood! If you’ve seen me talking about reparenting and fixing the mistakes of our own parents on previous posts, this one explains how to actually do that reparenting. What follows are passages from The Tao of Fully Feeling by Pete Walker, an excellent source on recovering from childhood abuse. Under a cut because long post is long.

Self-compassionate reparenting is a term I have coined to describe my approach to remothering and refathering the inner child. When we practice self-compassionate reparenting, we identify and provide for the unmet needs of our childhood so that we can grow into more complete, life-loving human beings.

...Many survivors are uncomfortable with the concept of the inner child because they were forced at an early age to become miniature adults and to hate their childlike characteristics... Survivors who do not like their inner children, or children in general for that matter, are often those who were not liked as children.

Many of us were so traumatized for being and acting childlike that we had to move from toddlerhood to adulthood in astoundingly brief periods of time. Various combinations of shame, punishment, and abandonment forced us to forfeit childhood and to act like grown-ups even before we were ready for school.

...When a child is not allowed to be a child, she abandons her child-self and banishes it to her unconscious and tries to behave like an adult. Many of us find it difficult to get an authentic sense of our inner child because that part of ourselves is still hiding somewhere out of awareness... The child-self often stays sequestered in the unconscious because the adult survivor, like his [abusers], reviles it whenever it emerges into awareness seeking help or attention. ...Self-compassionate reparenting begins with the decision to love our inner children and protect them from self-abuse.

...We will focus here primarily on the emotional tasks of the reparenter. These constellate around two crucial goals: the recovery and ongoing development of our inborn sense of self-acceptance, and the reestablishment and strengthening of our instinctive sense of self-protection. ...[These are] the two key processes of emotional caretaking:  unconditional love and unrelenting self-protection (which has its roots in the emotion of anger).

...

Reparenting begins with forgiving the inner child. It sometimes seems outlandish to me that we need to forgive the children in us who were so innocent and undeserving of blame. What a cruel irony that we need to forgive the blameless, yet we must let our inner children know that we forgive them because, like our [abusers], we have been blaming since time immemorial. ...Forgiving our inner children is a powerful avenue into self-forgiveness. In the words of self-esteem guru Nathaniel Branden:

When we learn to forgive the child we once were, for what he or she didn’t know, or couldn’t do, or couldn’t cope with, or felt or didn’t feel; when we understand and accept that child was struggling to survive the best way he or she could--then the adult self is no longer in adversarial relationship to the child-self. One part is not at war with another.

Our inner child’s heart, broken by a dearth of compassionate [acceptance], begins to heal when we turn inward with unconditional love and forgiveness. We add substance to this [loving self-parenting] by offering the child ongoing tenderness, listening, affection, and unconditional love. Consistency in such practice is what allows our inner child to feel truly forgiven.

We also enhance forgiveness by championing our inner child in a parental way. We do this by using anger and blame to fight off internal or external aggression. Such actions prove to the child that she is not only forgiven, but also no longer subject to unfair blame.

The efficacy of our reparenting is further enhanced by providing our inner children [with] verbal, spiritual, and emotional nurturance... When we give our inner children love, understanding, and protection consistently over time, they begin to shed their horrible burdens of fear, shame, and emptiness. 

As we become more successful in resisting the shaming and terrorizing attacks of our internalized critical parents, our inner children begin to feel safe enough to come forth in all their vital wonder and beauty. Normal qualities of human existence that like joy, peacefulness, friendliness, spontaneity, and playfulness naturally begin to reemerge as we master the practice of reparenting.

Talking to and for the inner child

We heal ourselves with self-protection when we use our anger and blame to challenge inner messages of shame and self-hate. Speaking up in a protective way for the inner child makes it safe enough for her to once again inhabit consciousness. ...If I [realize that I] have numbly repeated the lies and shamings of old authority figures, I apologize to [my inner child] and recommit to eliminating this old self-destructive habit.

I usually supplement my self-protection with the kind of love that feeds self-esteem with positive and supportive statements. I imagine my inner child sitting on my lap or resting in my heart. I remind him that he is absolutely and eminently lovable just as he is. And then I soothe him with words of this nature:

I love to have you near me. You are such a joy to me. I love it when you talk to me and tell me how it is for you. I want to hear everything you have to say. I want to be the one person you can always come to whenever you need help. You can come to me when you are hurting, when you just want company, or when you want to play. You are always welcome. You are a delight to my eyes, and I always enjoy having you around. You are a good child, very special and absolutely worthy of love, respect, and all good things. I am so proud of you and so glad that you are alive. I will help you in any way that I can. I want to be the loving mom and dad you were so unfairly deprived of, and that you so much deserve. And I want you to know that I have an especially loving place in my heart for you when you are scared or sad or mad or ashamed. You can always come to me and tell me about such feelings, and I will be with you and try to soothe you until those feelings run their natural course. I want to become your best friend and I will always try to protect you from unfairness and humiliation. I will also seek friends for you who genuinely like you and who are truly on your side. We will only befriend people who are fair, who treat us with equality and respect, and who listen to us as much as we listen to them. I want to help you learn that it really is good to have needs and desires. It’s wonderful that you have feelings. It’s healthy to be mad and sad and scared and depressed at times. It’s natural to make mistakes. And it’s okay to feel good too, and even to have more fun than mom and dad did.

...I reassure him that I will never allow anyone to abuse [or bully] him again. No one will be allowed to slap him with a hand or with words. I remind him that I have a healthy anger now that can be summoned up to ward off, or “write off”, abusers.

When we consistently give our inner children this kind of support, we suffer less and less paralysis from toxic shame. We become skilled at transforming the inverted anger of self-hatred into a defense against [our internalized bullies]. [Our abusers’] rulership of our psyches gradually dissipates, and we are able to treat normal mistakes as learning experiences rather than as proof of our defectiveness. The demon of perfectionism loses its grip on our psyches, and we begin to cherish our differences and imperfections as the unique treasures of character and being they are. 

I have been so healed through this process that I now value many things about myself that were formerly perpetual sources of shame... What I used to disparage as “my moodiness” now strikes me as emotional richness and flexibility. My need for considerable introversion, which used to be my all-time greatest defect, has now become the much appreciated matrix of my rich inner life. My “streak shooting” in basketball no longer sends me down the drain of toxic shame, although I will probably always prefer the hot streaks to the cold ones. Moreover, I can now savor my few remaining addictions: nonstop gum-chewing, long telephone conversations, daily grilled cheese sandwiches, writing with ink in books, and crying at sentimental movies.

I can also graciously accept the moans that I occasionally evoke in others via my habit of telling bad jokes. Even my feelings of inferiority about my appearance have almost totally vanished. I now really like the imperfections that for many years made me feel so ugly that I wouldn’t dare approach the opposite sex. ...And perhaps best of all, I now frequently hear a voice that automatically says “I love you” instead of “nice going, klutz” whenever I accidentally drop or bump into something.

I have also noticed that since my inner critic lost its job as boss of my consciousness, I am far less critical and perfectionstically expectant of others. I believe this has made me safer and more comfortable to be around. Others seem to be able to be more authentic and vulnerable with me... [and] allows me to make new friends on an ongoing basis.

As new friends come into my life, my sense of belonging increases and now begins to feel like something comfortingly tribal. I feel as though the enormous loneliness of my loveless youth is largely dissipated. And it continually decreases as my social network expands though meeting good people from all walks of life.

...One of my greatest delights in being a therapist is witnessing my clients making similar gains in their lives through reparenting. Many develop trustworthy relationships for the first time in their lives. Many awake from years of stagnation to become wholeheartedly excited about new endeavors or old reclaimed enthusiasms. How wonderful it is when a client comes in proudly reporting that over the weekend she flew a kite, made a friend, climbed a tree, took a dance class, started a garden, went roller-skating, frolicked on the water slides, enrolled in an arts and crafts class, or identified fifteen different wild flowers on a camping trip!

If you would like me to post more on re-parenting through self-compassion and self-protection, please let me in the notes or in an ask! 

[anonymoustoddler]

I Got Stoned And Started Typing To Post On FB (And Ended With Something That Could NEVER Get Posted)

Hah. I hit my vape pen a bunch and then this happened:

This afternoon, after taking way too many hits of my *state tested, clean and safe* vape pen, I was surfing hulu on my laptop while scrolling through facebook on my phone and playing Stardew Valley on the PS4 every few minutes in between and I suddenly, in fact altogether _casually_ thought to myself, “I wonder if I’d want kids and be able to take care of them if I made it to 38?”

And the thing is, that is literally the most positive organic thought I’ve had in my VERY busy, VERY chatty brain in almost two years. It is the first thought I have had regarding a potential future that wasn’t colored by the idea that My Mom Is Dead So Nothing I Could Do In Life Would Mean Anything Or Be Possible Because She Isn’t Here To Experience It Too Or To Help Me Through.

This stoned, distracted, completely mindless and unfocused random little insignificant thought... is the first time in over a year and a half of thinking, that did not immediately end with, “She’s Dead So You Can’t Ever Hope For That Anymore Because It Means Nothing Now That She Can’t Be There To Experience It Or Get To Be Proud Of Me For Once” and also, “Nothing Is Possible Without Her Because Without Her I’m Alone And Unable Forever Unless Someone Else Takes Over Helping Me But That Will Never Happen And I Will Never Be Ok Or Able On My Own.”

I mean, no wonder I’m doing so poorly and also dealing so badly with her death?! Being close was great in a lot of ways and awful in others. Our codependent enmeshment was deeply and traumatically unhealthy. Having to be your mother’s best and only friend at 8 years old is... really weird. And abnormal. But then, so is developing a diagnosable anxiety disorder and eating disorder at FOUR YEARS OLD is kind of abnormal too!

The thing is... some physical aspects of puberty for me started very early. VERY early. All aspects of puberty seemed to start earlier in me than a lot of girls in my class, in my grade. So maybe it makes sense too then that I would develop these psychological issues so early, particularly with the stress and fear of moving from Texas to Michigan and leaving the first friends I remember having, how terrified I was of change and meeting new people, trying to make new friends. I was so painfully and obviously shy. I was so afraid of people.

But anyway. No one caught the anxiety disorder until I did myself.... in college. I lived with a totally unchecked anxiety disorder and pretty high-but-not-yet-extreme depression from the ages of five and eleven/twelve respectively, and the first time I got ANY help was at the age of 19. No wonder I was sick for so long. The fucking eating disorder is suuuuch a perfect(ly horrifying) coping mechanism. And since it was my primary, and often only, coping mechanism for many many many years, as in almost ALL of the first two decades of my life. Two decades of drilling this into myself of How To Relieve Stress And Self Soothe = Disordered Behaviors And NOTHING ELSE.

Is it really any wonder why I’m like this??? I am dealing with the loss of my only family; my best friend by leaps and bounds and freakin lightyears; my entire and very giving safety net - so I could try something new or move away or whatever and I knew I was safe because if it didn’t work out or I tanked I could ALWAYS go home. Always.

I’m also dealing with the loss of... the person who never let me try things because she was a control freak so I could never learn from her; the person who taught me the

passive aggressive ➡️ passive aggressive ➡️ very aggressive

method of responding to interpersonal relations, which I mean... how could anything go wrong?! 🙃🙃🙃

I’m dealing with the loss of a relationship where my mom once, in all seriousness, asked me if I’d have a baby if I didn’t have to take care of it, she would take care of it for me.

Like, I know part of her was “joking” but... she wanted to be a grandmother. She wanted to see me have a career, a family, security.

But also who sort of benefited from my continued illness; my inability to cope or work; my low functionality, my constant need of help, support, and validation... they made her SO frustrated but also kept her busy and kept her from being alone, kept me with her but also sometimes was too much for her so it was upsetting, because surprise - crazy people gon turn up a notch higher than you can predict, and don’t ever forget that.

I am mourning this relationship that either fully shaped or strongly influenced almost every issue I have now. I don’t mean to shirk responsibility, just to be clear - I have to actually try as much as is literally possible to fix the things in me that are broken. I have to find a therapist and go to therapy. Trust my doctors, try a hundred different meds that might ALL make me horribly sick or even more crazy or both as side effects while still trying to build some kind of life. Maybe, eventually, find one, but also... get out of bed every day. Shower, brush your teeth, get dressed, GET OUT. Grab your coat boots keys purse and go outside. Make it into your car, drive it down a few blocks (depending on where you want coffee/are you reading a book or can you play HP there/etc), get coffee and sit and read or play a bit or work lines or whatever. Make your to do list there! Lay out a plan for the day. Schedule at least two work items then set a timed break for video games or whatever. When the alarm goes off, you MUST get back to work. Two to three more items earns a longer break to play OR taking care of any other immediate need stuff and then going out or something.

If you want to get some casual exercise, go to either mall. Walk around for Shopkick, the game, and to get your blood flowing at least a teensy bit while working out rarely used muscles and burning juuuuust a few calories.

You spend SO much goddamned money on delivery, when actually — Going out yourself is SO much better for you. It is obviously MUCH cheaper, but it’s also good to get out of the house even if only going to and from the car and into the store or restaurant or whatever, and it’s very VERY important to drive the car regularly, to keep the battery functional and the guts ok. ((Also RE: CARS — Next warm day, that Prius goes through an intense car wash. Need to get that shit out so it stops stinking, prob growing mold ugh ugh need fix!))

But I mean JUST THINK how much money you’d have left, maybe to even treat yourself to better things, and also if I stop ordering, I will 100% lose weight. So muck fucking weight lmao. And with a job, I’ve got two sources of income coming in! And hopefully still medicaid for as long as I can possibly have it 😭

This got REALLY away from my stoned assssss BUT. The original point is this:

I thought about myself as potentially being alive six years from now, which is very much not what I see lately but which, for once, didn’t automatically sound like a punishment, and I thought of myself six years older and wondering if I might be better enough to be an ok caregiver and also have a relationship that could sustain children coming in, and I was able to and did have one?? That’s SO bananas to me lol. It made me feel... weirdly hopeful though.

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 5x22 The Gift

aka little miss muffet counting down from 7-3-0

Welcome to this dailyish (weekly? bi-weekly?) text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And in today’s episode Buffy faces her trolley problem and says no. Fuck you universe.

As is my recent tradition, I paired a specific drink I had at home with today’s season finale. In this case, it was a glass of some German apple liquor that was gathering dust in the cabinet, and it was excellent. Bittersweet and familiar. 5/5.

(In case you were wondering, the drink of choice for Restless was a small bottle of Belgian beer called Delirium Tremens. Naturally.)

(This is also your daily reminder kids, to always drink responsibly. Alcoholism is no joke, and chances are that you too are affected by it, maybe through someone you know. Please take care of yourselves and don’t let us or anyone make drinking seem cool.)

Anyway, by the length of this intro you can probably already tell the issue. This post will not be very focused.

And I already showed my cards here! Season 5 is probably my favorite season and The Gift my favorite season finale. Maybe even throughout TV.

This is an episode that was written as a series finale, and yet the show still went on for two additional seasons. I saw some discussion about whether or not the show would’ve worked better if it ended here, and while I personally agree that this is a stronger finale, I like that we have those other seasons. For all of its flaws and the complicated relationship I have with some of its parts, season 6 and 7 do and say something about the characters, the world and ourselves that makes us feel, think and grow in different ways.

Plus the show still ended with an excellent finale. But more on that when we get there.

Not to mention that season 5 already mapped out Buffy’s depression for us, so “death being her gift”, her moment of big sacrifice could easily fold into suicidal ideation. That’s why her quote to Dawn is so important.

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. So be brave. Live. For me.”

Buffy has found her way out that was still true to who she was at her core. She saved the world and her sister through a loophole that let her end her story on her own terms, and prove to herself that she’s still capable of love.

In her very last moments Buffy was defined by her love for her sister and not the evil that tried to take Dawn, and the innocence she represented away from her. She refused to let the next generation pay the price for all of our mistakes.

In short, Buffy should be the example that we, Millenials, follow. It might not seem like we have the power to affect any change in the world, but we have a responsibility to those that come after us to try. To take our own stance and act as shields and protectors for the next generation.

It’s easier said that done, I know, especially when we don’t feel like we have our own lives together. But sometimes just one thing, one small decision, one compromise we refuse to make can make all the difference.

I will not do this and I will not let it happen.

In this episode, Buffy draws the line. She won’t let Dawn die for the greater good. She refuses to save a world that would make her kill a teenage girl. Her own sister.

She points out that this is in stark contrast to how she handled a similar dilemma at the end of season 2. There, she was presented with a parallel choice: kill Angel or save the world.

She put a sword through him.

Despite the similarities, there are huge thematic differences between the two situations though. Angel represented a danger for Buffy to lose herself in him; so killing him meant that she chose her own identity over him.

It was of course horrible and traumatic still, but on a thematic level, it was about Buffy making a statement about who she is. And she’s making just as much of a statement with refusing to entertain the same solution with Dawn.

In many ways, Dawn represents Buffy herself. Her innocence, her childhood, her connection to humanity. Buffy’s been feeling detached this season, and felt emotionally unavailable after the whole Riley fiasco especially. But not with Dawn. Dawn’s been Buffy’s tether to those emotions, that immense, unconditional, unguarded love.

For Buffy, killing Dawn would’ve been severing that very link. She would rather die.

This is Buffy’s trolley problem. And she refuses to engage with it in its intended way. She is not going to let Dawn die to save 5 or hundreds or even millions of people.

Instead she offers up her own life. As the show will discuss later on, Buffy arguably has the power to decide who lives and dies, and here, she comes to the conclusion that she can only really make that choice for herself.

There are also just so many wonderful callbacks in this episode. The guy in the alley calling Buffy “just a girl”, and her remarking on how she keeps telling people that, referring to her early motivations of wanting to be a normal girl. (Something that Dawn too represents.) Willow and Tara holding hands to combine their powers to clear the way for Spike, reminding us of their very first spell together. Even Xander’s dumb comment about how smart ladies are hot and Willow’s retort gave me all the nostalgia.

We’ve been foreshadowing and building up to this moment for 5 years. Graduation Part 2 too was a big book finish, but The Gift is the end of a journey. And while some would argue that it would’ve been an even better finale for the entire show, knowing that there’s still so much to come after, only makes me appreciate it more.

What else is there to say? We could talk about Dawn echoing my own thoughts, wanting to deal with Glory’s honest evil over Ben’s quiet, ambiguous monstrosity. Giles putting on his glasses to kill Ben, as opposed to earlier instances of his “Ripper” aspect shining through, signifying how this is who he is. A “killer”, as Tara called him. Tara leading the Scoobies to Glory as opposed to earlier when her condition made her lead Glory to Dawn.

The whole ritual of bleeding / killing Dawn, and how it’s reminiscent of traditions of young girls “becoming women”. She’s given a more adult dress to wear as she leaves her old one behind. Even the “bleeding” thing can be read as a big old menstruation metaphor, so have fun with that.

BuffyBot briefly returns, Buffy is Lady Thor because comics...

Oh, and Xander proposes to Anya. That also happened.

10/10. This episode is still 10/10. Go and rewatch the show just so you can experience it in all of its Glory.

Let us all also raise a glass of water to Buffy Anne Summers. She saved the world. A lot.

And she wants you to stay hydrated. Do it for her.

[temmie-loony]

Speedy^3′s kids

They got three kids.

Iris Belle West II

Wally and Jesse’s child

The older fraternal twin of JJ West by twenty-two minutes

She’s the oldest child, born on January 8, 2018

Like both parents, she is a speedster metahuman

Unlike Dawn, she’s still learning the language of the Speed Force

She can understand better than she can speak it and she can’t write anything at all except that stupid “This house is bitchin’” reference

Growing up, she was always affectionately called ‘Kid Flash’ by her Uncle Barry

Her dad has long let go of the hero name Kid Flash and instead goes by Flash but only when he’s with the Legends; when he’s chilling in CC, the locals still refer to him as Kid Flash

So now she’s the newest Kid Flash of Central City in Earth-1

Thank goodness that she didn’t go through the same dilemma about her hero name like her cousin Connor did

Her suit kind of resembles that of her mother’s but has a lot more yellow incorporated in it as a tribute to her father of course

She also added laces at the sides as a tribute to her other mother

She occasionally visits Earth-2 to visit her Grampa Harry, where people over there call her Flash Jr.

Meh she doesn’t complain too much about it

She mostly trains with Team Flash since it’s easier receiving instruction from other speedsters who’ve already honed in on their skills

Sometimes, she’ll head on over to Earth-38 to train with Alex Danvers because apparently her combat skills still suck but only if Dawn is there

Connor, even though she loves him, is a headache

Having graduated from high school early (at fifteen), she chose to attend college over on Earth-2 so she could have multiple majors with no one looking at her funny for being an overachiever

She knows she’s probably slowly burning herself out but she loves the material as much as she loves saving people

Although she does complain a lot about the amount of work she has to do every day to her friends, siblings and cousins

She still has no idea what she’ll do once she’s done with her degrees

Meh she’ll probably end up working for STAR Labs

She just has to figure out if that means Earth-1 STAR Labs or Earth-2 STAR Labs

Iris was pretty mad that Thea got Oliver, Barry and Kara’s kid to be named after her and when Barry confirmed that they weren’t planning on having any more kids, she promptly turned to her other brother and demanded that their first daughter will be named after her

Unlike Dawn though who is referred to by her middle name, she is referred to by her nickname: Irey

Thea tried teaching her archery but she’s so bad at it because grabbing an arrow, pulling back and aiming all take time and she doesn’t like things that take time

She’s an incredible multitasker 

And that actually has nothing to do with her speed; she just doesn’t like wasting time

Connor likes to make her race him but, like his races with Dawn, he ends up losing

She’s a bit slower than Dawn but at least she’s still faster than Connor

She’s closest with her Aunt Iris, Pawpaw Joe, Zari, Ray and Grampa Harry.

She calls Wally “Dad” or “Daddy”

She calls Jesse “Mom”

She calls Thea “Momma”

Johnny Jai West

Wally and Jesse’s child

The younger fraternal twin of Iris West II by twenty-two minutes

The middle child, born on January 8, 2018

He was once, in fact, a speedster like his twin

However, after years of already having his powers, Caitlin had belatedly found an anomaly in his DNA

He began to become horribly sick, which seemed to worsen by the day

No one knew why at first until Caitlin, Cisco, Alex and Jesse realized it had something to do with the Speed Force

It wasn’t their parents or any of the veteran heroes that saved him but his twin

“I’m sorry, JJ, but the Speed Force said the only way to save you was to sever your connection to it and...”

“Hey, it’s cool, sis. You saved my life. I owe you one.”

His nickname is JJ

He got his first name by Thea opening up a baby book and blindly pointing at one of the names

He got his second name as a tribute to Jay Garrick, who helped save Wally from imprisonment in the Speed Force by taking his place

He’s affectionately called Johnny Quick by Team Flash, especially when he still had his powers

They don’t call him that as much anymore, out of respect that he’s essentially had an important part of himself ripped away and calling him that would just be a cruel reminder

He’s a brilliant engineer but not so much an excellent student

He’s not the greatest at tests (why do schools rely on memorization as a way of measuring intelligence instead of actually measuring their intelligence?) but you could give him just about anything broken without saying anything and it’ll take some time for him to figure out what’s wrong before fixing that thing better than it ever was in an hour

Having Connor as a cousin and a constant presence had really made him consider not going to college at all but he found this university that cultivates knowledge and favors experience over stuff like tests so he applied and that’s where he’s attending college

Since William’s place is pretty close to the college, William offered him the other guest room since the bigger one is unofficially Connor’s

It’s been pretty dope so far

He really wants to take on the family business of becoming a superhero but ever since he lost his powers, it really felt like he lost his identity and was stripped of his heritage

Obviously, he doesn’t need powers to become a hero but having the Speed Force severed from him was traumatic 

He’ll probably take up John Diggle’s offer or even Alex Danvers’ offer of training properly with their respective agencies, but for now he just wants to distance himself from all that insanity and try to live a regular life

Had he still had his powers, he says his code name would have been ‘Impulse’

Like his father, he’s an incredibly talented dancer

When they both have some free time, he’d team up with Dawn for mini-performances for places that would hook them up with a gig

He’s suspected to be dating someone but will deny for as long as he can

He’s closest to William, Cisco, Nate, Felicity, Winn, Curtis and Uncle Barry

He calls Wally “Dad”

He calls Jesse “Mom”

He calls Thea “Momma” or “Ma”

Olivia Laurel West

Wally and Thea’s child

She is the last born but only by a few months

She was born on June 1, 2018

Her parents expected her to be a regular baby, but Caitlin did some tests and actually found the metagene present in her DNA

Her powers started manifesting when she was a toddler

She was definitely more problematic as a child compared to Irey and JJ when they too got their powers

She was a brat and often asked for attention, barely acknowledging her siblings except when she really had to or wanted something in return

That all changed when JJ started getting sick 

She was actually the first person to witness JJ’s descent into his sickness when he passed out shortly after vomiting what seemed like the entirety of his lunch and maybe even breakfast too

Then Irey got hurt pretty bad on what was supposed to be a relatively easy mission

Now she’s extremely protective of her siblings, especially when it concerns Irey’s missions or JJ’s love life

Oh by the way, she’s definitely sure JJ is dating someone, despite his claims that he’s not

She has absolutely no proof but...

She just knows okay?

She can feel it

She is most definitely spoiled but not to Dawn’s level

Unlike her siblings, she’s not that great at being an intellectual

She considers herself average

When someone argues that she had straight A’s and did extracurriculars in high school, she points out that she worked hard for them, not because she’s a genius like her siblings

She’ll also be going to college but took a gap year to help her sister (and occasionally her cousins too) as a vigilante

Since Thea retired, she stole inherited her mother’s suit and mask sans the bow

She can do archery just fine; she just prefers using her speed over using arrows

Archery is something she loves doing but only recreationally

Intentionally shooting people is something she has a problem reconciling with

Since she’s not creative at all with names or even have the desire to think of one, she just took the name Speedy but it wasn’t her idea

For a while, she operated without a code name, which was obviously problematic since calling her by her real name on the field wasn’t at all doable

One day, while visiting Team Arrow Jr Team Light Team Light Arrow her brother’s kids team, with Irey and Liv teaming up with them, Thea slammed her hands on William’s desk and, through the comms, angrily told Liv to just take the name Speedy so her civilian identity wouldn’t get compromised simply because they had nothing to call her

So that’s how she got the code name ‘Speedy’

She sees Dawn as a little sister and Connor almost like a best friend (almost only because John Diggle Jr. would kick her ass)

She doesn’t see William as often as she sees Dawn and Connor but she loves him all the same

Connor keeps pushing to have a race with him and the others

She always shoots him down because she knows her limits

She knows she’s definitely slower than both Dawn and Irey

She doesn’t know if she’s slower than Connor though

She doesn’t race them because, in the end, hero-ing isn’t her calling like it is for Dawn, Irey and Connor

She just helps them out because she has the ability to

She’s obviously named after Oliver because Oliver made Thea name her after him

Her middle name is Laurel to honor Dinah Laurel Lance

She goes by Liv

She’s still salty her last name isn’t Queen

She calls Wally “Dad” or “Daddy”

She calls Jesse “Mom”

She calls Thea “Momma” 

yep i finally gave thea/wally/jesse kids because i have very poor impulse control okay bye

[softscholasticism]

•delilah, darling•

rami malek x oc | ch. 2

a/n: ahh im so sorry that i made y’all emotional with the first chapter... um this one isnt any better... sorry?? anyway, once again, thank you so much for reading, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS, and if you’d like to be tagged please let me know:) AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT

word count: 6k+

warnings: angst, manipulative boyfriend, and deacy gets super pissed at the end so yeah. ALSO MARY DOESN’T OWN GARDEN LODGE OR EXIST IN THIS UNIVERSE, BC FICTION. also this chapter isn’t that great so i guess that’s another warning.

chapter one

C H A P T E R T W O: you get away with murder

Summer, 2010

The Garden Lodge was quiet this morning. Delilah had received the Lodge from Uncle Fred in his will along with a rather large sum of money. Jim had lived with her for as long as he could until he had passed at the beginning of the year. She lived a quiet life, mourning the loss of so  many people in her life. Even with Freddie’s death being so traumatic for her, she couldn’t be prepared for Jim’s death. She had been with him right until the end just as he had been there for Freddie. She had spent the last 6 months going through the motions of life, using a scheduled life as a distraction from the emptiness of her Godfather and Jim’s passing.

She hadn’t been the same since November 24, 1991 and it showed. She barely talked to her family and only spoke to Phoebe, Roger, Brian and her parents when she put it in her schedule. Of course, her parents understood, John had stepped down from his position in Queen due to Fred’s death becoming too much for him as well as needing to focus on his family and being there for them. The only thing that kept Delilah going was the small, golden locket that hung from her neck. Delilah was a woman now, no longer the little girl that been playful and so loving, she believed she had been a woman since Freddie’s passing. She longed for hope and joy she had once found in her Godfather, she wanted it so desperately but she didn’t know how.

On a day like today, Delilah had planned to go through her typical regiment. She woke up, drank coffee, read a book, gardened, ate lunch, read some more, call one of her uncles and her dad, ate dinner, went to bed but not before curling up with tears shining in her blue eyes.

When Delilah was eight, she remembered Freddie talking about the “in-between moments” where life is just kind of mundane and thoughts aren’t distracted by activities. In her 29 years of age, she now understood what her Uncle was talking about. She shrunk back into her mind, allowing memories of her past to overwhelm her. Delilah pretended that her blanket was a pair of arms, trying to form some kind of comfort  and fill the void that had raged upon her. The void filled her like a wildfire, the flames swallowing every sense of peace she had and left her with ashes of her past. She could try to pretend like everything was okay, but once she wasn’t distracted her thoughts came back to haunt her, breaking her heart all over again.

Something was different about this day however, Delilah was out gardening, the sound of tourists coming to visit the lodge and leaving presents or notes to her Uncle. She didn’t mind however. Delilah understood what is was like to mourn, so it didn’t bother her that people came to leave anecdotes about Freddie, in fact she thought it was lovely. People saw just how special Fred was in the same way that Delilah did, so who was she to deprive people of expressing their feelings when she felt the same way? The brunette enjoyed hearing people singing to the Garden Lodge or just the white noise of people reminiscing about her Godfather while she gardened. So here she was, picking some weeds out from the flower bed, softly smiling at the buzz of Garden Lodge. She worked quietly, her hair pulled back in a braid due to the Deacon gene of fluffy hair, the other workers in the Lodge moved around as well, gardening or cleaning amongst other jobs.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the telephone roared over the tourists and workers, taking Delilah out of her focus, a worker came and fetched her saying that it was her father. Delilah’s eyebrows furled in confusion, typically she was the one to call him after she had finished her work in the lodge. John knew that she needed to keep her schedule and that she didn’t much like change in order to stay sane, so Delilah figured this was something important. Her stomach dropped at that thought, the last time someone called her it was always brought bad memories. Calls always meant that someone had passed or became sick or would ask her about Freddie. She liked to start the calls because it gave her control over the conversation, distracting her from the in-between moments that she hated.

Solemnly, she nodded her head, taking her gloves off she walked inside to the phone that the worker was carrying. Taking a deep breath, she spoke, “Hi, Dad.” Her heart was beating rather quickly in anxiety, not knowing how to react to this change in her daily regiment.

“Delilah, darling!” Delilah winced at the nickname, not wanting to think of where her family had coined that phrase. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, but I wanted to ask you something.” John was nervous, his niece had voiced her dislike of change but he wanted her to live, not just go through each day doing the same thing over and over again. He didn’t want her to become like him and he was afraid that that had already happened.

“That’s quite alright, Dad, I was just gardening. What’s up?” Her hands were shaking, this was so different, she despised different. John proceeded to explain that he needed a book to read that someone had told him about, of course, John couldn’t go and get it himself because he much preferred to stay home. He mentioned that all of her other siblings were either gone or busy and couldn’t go get it and that she was the only one who could do it. “What about Mum, couldn’t she go get it for you?” Delilah knew how busy her siblings always were, so she understood, but the idea of leaving Garden Lodge was a daunting task.

“No, no your mother has friends over. Please could you do this for me, Delilah?” John felt horrible. In fact, he didn’t need the bloody book at all. He just wanted her to get out of that house and do something. “You could go to that one coffee place you’ve been dying to try because they have special type of milk they use in their drinks. And yes, Bri and Rog did tell me that you talked about wanting to go by it, so I know that you want to go.” And there it was, Delilah knew why he called. He might’ve needed the book but she knew how badly he wanted her to go out and away from the  place that haunted her dreams. A somber feeling washed over her, her father just wanted her to get better, he understood her best and she recognized his desire for her happiness when he probably was feeling the same as she was.

Delilah nodded her head, “Of course, Dad. I’ll go get it for you and the coffee, I’ll grab one for you too if you’d like?” John laughed in victory and did a little happy dance around his telephone, expressing how that bringing him coffee would be lovely. He told her how proud he was of her and to be careful. Delilah shook her head as she giggled at her father’s antics and told him goodbye. She told the worker to fetch her car and soon she was off, the people in front of the lodge recognized her and tried to get close but she was faster. While she did appreciate their love for her uncle, she didn’t want to be hounded by them.

The ride to the bookstore was calm, on the inside she was freaking out at her schedule change but it felt almost rebellious in a way. Her fingers shook with excitement as she parked, stepping out the air felt lighter. The bookstore was a petite building, the inside was warm. As she walked around looking at the Lodge, Delilah realized that the Lodge had begun to grow cold, yes, she had the workers company along with her two dogs, but it still felt so empty. She knew why it felt empty, but she wanted to hold onto the memories that were held in Garden Lodge so she stayed in it. The small store had bookcases that touched the ceiling and had multiple bean bags or couches so people could sit and read. It brought back a childlike awareness that she barely let herself experience.

After grabbing the book her father needed, she walked around for much longer than she needed to, buying multiple novels in the process so she could have more to read in the Lodge. She had already been through most of the books in the Library that Freddie had turned one of the cat’s rooms into, the ones she hadn’t read were either things she read as a teenager or were silly things like dictionaries or encyclopedias that she had no patience for. Once Delilah had purchased all of the books she acquired, she began her walk to the coffee shop. Luckily it was a block away so she didn’t need to drive over there.

A soft clicking noise sounded from across the street, Delilah didn’t think anything of it though. She walked inside the coffee shop and was immediately hit by the strong smell of espresso, soft indie music playing in the background. Much like the bookstore, this coffee shop was so warm and cozy. There was also an upstairs spot that was considered a study area and had whiteboards and bean bags as well as couches with too many pillows. She had barely been in the building for five minutes and she was in love. Delilah still felt uncomfortable with being out in public but she was comforted by the soft atmosphere.

Making her way to the cashier, she was  met by one of the most beautiful men she’s ever laid eyes upon. He was tall around the same height as Uncle Brian probably. He skin was a deep brown, his eyes the same color, he was muscular too, much to her appreciation. “Excuse me, can I help you?” Delilah blushed and quickly apologized, not realizing that she had been staring for much too long. The man, Charles as his name tag provided, laughed lightly at her demeanor, saying that he didn’t mind. “What would you like?” Charles was intrigued, the woman had looked familiar and it did help that she was quite gorgeous.

Delilah, wanting to escape from her embarrassment, asked for a simple latte, something she was familiar with and comfortable with ordering. She rapidly paid and made her way to one of the small, two person tables, waiting patiently for her drink while wallowing in her distress. Delilah realized she had allowed herself to get stuck in her brain again because suddenly, Charles was sitting in front of her, holding her drink. She jumped practically out of her seat, not at all easing her nerves in front of this gorgeous specimen.

At first glance, Charles thought the woman was unique, she seemed shy and reserved, immediately he wanted to get to know her better. She seemed familiar and he couldn’t understand why. Maybe she had been to one of his gigs with his band or maybe she worked somewhere local, Charles couldn’t place his finger on it. He placed the drink in front of her and asked if they had met before.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she laughed, hand covering her mouth, “I tend to stay at my home, I’m just running an errand for my father.” Charles nodded, understanding that people could seem familiar but really had never met.

“I see, you don’t explore the town?” The man winked, he had started to get where he wanted to go, the woman was attractive and sweet, he figured a date would be fun. As he waited for a response, Delilah nodded her head, because it was true, she never explored the city, she wanted to but it was too much of a risk for someone to recognize her and too often she saw something that reminded her of Jim and her Godfather, it was too much for her  to handle. Charles however, a man she had just met, who seemed interested in her, was proposing an excuse to leave the Lodge, in a flirty manner at that.

“No, I suppose I don’t, but I would like an excuse to, I perhaps.” Delilah flirted back, her hand sliding towards his own. He noticed what she was doing and knew he was on the right track to what he wanted. Charles stood and grasped her hand, kissing it lightly.

“I’m afraid I have to go back to work, but I’m free on Saturday.” A blush rose to Delilah’s cheeks, she sipped her latte and nodded. She had never been in a relationship before due to her being scared her heart was going to be ripped apart even more than it already had been. But Brian and Rog had been adamant that she needed friends or even a boyfriend, she figured she would make them proud.

Charles knew he had to initiate because this woman was so shy but he didn’t mind. “Let’s say seven o’clock?” He grabbed a napkin and wrote his number on it, handing it to her, enjoying the redness that fluttered and grew deeper than humanly possible. Delilah nodded, grateful that Charles left her to her coffee as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

The brown-haired girl turned the napkin over, blue ink scribbled across but could clearly read a number and the words “see ya on saturday, love xx”. For the first time, in what seemed like forever, Delilah had plans during the weekend, something she hasn’t allowed herself to have since Fred’s death.

She called Brian and Roger immediately, realizing she had to figure out what one did on a date.

SATURDAY

“Love, you need to hurry up or else you’ll be late.” Roger exclaimed, not helping with Delilah’s stress levels, Brian was currently deciding which shoes his niece should wear. Delilah had settled the plans with Charles over text, they were going to meet at the coffee shop and he would drive them to the restaurant. Delilah suggested somewhere small and local, preferably not busy as well as them meeting up at a neutral site. She didn’t quite trust him yet to expose where she lived. Luckily, he complied and told her not to worry about dressing up either, he was adamant that she was comfortable for their first date.

Brian settled on some white chelsea boots to go with the high waisted Levi’s and coral blouse. He grabbed the shoes and walked over to where the brown haired woman was sitting and handed the shoes to her. Delilah smiled softly, adding the finishing touches to her look before putting the boots on with shaking hands.

Delilah had never allowed herself to get close to anyone besides her immediate family including Brian, Rog, and Phoebe. She had tried to a few times previously but everyone just wanted to meet her dad or ask her uncomfortable, intimate questions about Freddie that she didn’t have the strength to answer. So, she gave up the pleasure of having friends and kept to herself. But now Delilah was nearing thirty, it was time she broke out of her shell and make her life more worthwhile than the same repeated schedule every day.

“Alright, I think I need to get going. Are you guys going to hang out here for a while? You’re more than welcome to stay of course.” Delilah stood, grabbing her keys and purse, wringing her hands in nerves.

“Yeah, love. We’ll stay here just in case you need anything.” Roger wrapped an arm around the woman, kissing her cheek. They were just as nervous as she was, Delilah had been through so much heartbreak in her life and Roger as well as Brian didn’t think she could handle another one.

A huge weight was lifted off of Delilah’s shoulders, she had her uncles to watch over her just in case anything had gone awry and she couldn’t be more grateful for them. With this release of tension, Delilah kissed and hugged both of her uncles and set off, the workers all wishing her good luck as they finished up their duties and head back to their homes.

The drive to the cafe was much easier this time, Delilah knew what she was doing and hadn’t felt this excited about something in, forever it seemed like. As she parked, she saw Charles waiting for her with flowers, her favorite ones too: daisies. Delilah had no clue how he had known that she loved daisies but she didn’t care because here was an extremely attractive man, with flowers for her, about to take her to dinner, what more could she want?

“Hi, love,” Charles voice was even more smooth than it had been when she had first met him. He looked at her up and down as he approached her, “my do you look absolutely ravishing.” He sighed, kissing her cheek before presenting the flowers. Delilah’s blush wrapped around her cheeks to her ears, flattered by the show of affection of an outsider which of course, Charles was very excited to see the rosiness appear.

“We have reservations soon and it’s about a five minute walk, is that alright?” Delilah was still quiet, her nerves trying to dampen but she let out a smile and nodded. He brought his arm out for her to grab and together the two walked to a small restaurant that seemed extremely modern, but not noisy or busy much to Delilah’s appreciation. A waiter brought them to their table, the restaurant had a warm vibe to it as the couple sat down. The tables were a dark wood, one soft light over their heads along with a candle placed on the table. It was everything Delilah would dream of for a first date location-wise. So far, she was quite impressed with Charles decisions.

“Thank you for bringing me here and the flowers.” Delilah spoke softly, placing her hair behind her ear. Charles smiled one of the whitest smiles she had ever seen and put his hand in hers across the table.

“You deserve everything and more.” Delilah could melt into the chair and would be perfectly fine. Together they continued dinner, making conversation. Both were asking questions about each other’s family but Delilah was delighted when she realized that Charles wasn’t prying. That may have been because he didn’t know her past or who she was associated with or that he could tell that family was a tough subject for her. He never ever pushed her and she couldn’t feel more satisfied with this date so far.

His eyes shifted to her locket, he remembered seeing it the first time he had seen her, he figured that she wore it often. “I like your locket, where’s it from?” He saw her hand move towards the locket,  the light glinting off of the golden jewelry. It looked old, worn from use. It took her a while before she spoke, when she looked at him, her eyes were watery and Charles was worried he hit a soft spot.

“I got it from my Uncle when I was 10, he passed away a little after that.” Delilah sniffed and looked back down at the locket, twisting the chain in her long fingers. Charles grasped her chin, he didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. His family was large, he didn’t know what it was like to lose someone so close. So, he figured just being there for her would suffice. Again, he didn’t pry because he felt as though it wasn’t his place.

Delilah was at a loss of words, on one end, her heart was aching at having to think about the loss of Freddie but the  other end was filled with so much joy because Charles didn’t try to make her feel better, he didn’t try to ask what happened or try to make the loss seem less than it was. He just proceeded to care for her and hold her, and for Delilah that was enough.

The date ended with Delilah insisting she paid for dessert. Charles had done so much and treated her with so much care, Delilah couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun as well as how nice it was to have a companion that was relatively the same age instead of 60 year old rock stars (even though she loved them more than anything). After paying for dessert, Delilah and Charles walked out, not before Charles held the door open and placed a warm hand to her lower back. He further wrapped his arm around her leading her to her car. As the two walked closer to the car, she saw two very familiar faces waiting for her by the car thus causing Delilah’s heart to come to a full stop.

There at the end of her car was Roger and Brian. Roger Taylor, famous drummer of queen and car extraordinaire and Brian May the actual guitar hero, Delilah’s uncles.

“Oh my god.” Delilah quickly turned Charles around to face him away from them. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and quickly realized that she had never updated Brian and Roger, she had almost 50 texts and at least 20 calls from both. Since Delilah never goes out, they worry about her constantly and like to be updated.

Delilah didn’t want to have to break the news to Charles like this, the date had been everything she wanted and so, so much more. She couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated at Brian or Rog, they were just looking out for her, Delilah’s anxiety however, was becoming a monster because this would make or break the desire of a second date.

Charles eyes drew concerned, Delilah’s whole demeanor changed within an instant. He moved to turn around and see what she was looking at but her grip was surprisingly too strong.

“Charles, I need to tell you something,” Her hands were white with how hard she was gripping him. Charles’ hands moved to her waist in order to ground the anxious woman. “You must understand that I didn’t tell you this because I was worried that you would think differently of me. It’s also not exactly my favorite subject because it brings bad memories that I would rather not think about.” Delilah continued to ramble until Charles placed his hands from her hips to her cheeks.

The woman sighed, Roger and Brian were about to approach when she shook her head, motioning for them to stop. Charles moved to see what was bothering her but again, she held him tightly. With a large inhale, she spoke.

“My family is famous.” That was so not how she had meant to word it but, it was too late. “My dad was a bass player for a band called Queen.” She watched as Charles eyes grew as wide as saucers, he realized why she had seemed so familiar from the first time he had met her. One of his musical idols is John deacon because he inspired Charles to play bass in his band. Charles had countless books and posters about Queen and read so many things on John’s bass playing, he was a very strong Queen fan. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it earlier but then again, this was only their second date.

He didn’t continue, not exactly knowing what to say because how does one react to the fact that they’ve got a famous girlfriend or partner. She continued to explain who her dad was and that Brian and Roger were her main source of contact since John preferred to stay quiet, which Charles knew of course from his research.

As she finished, Delilah allowed the man to turn around and come face to face with the people he had been idolizing for his entire life. Somehow during their date, the topic of Charles’ band never came up so she had no idea that he was a) a bass player or b) a huge Queen fan, so the prospect of meeting the two didn’t seem like a big deal, in the grand scheme of things.

This was it, Charles thought, this is how I’m going to be successful.

Fall, 2010

Delilah was backstage at one of Charles’ concerts, thinking about the time when he had broke her the news that he just so happened to play bass in a band and that she knew who her parents were and looked up to John. However, instead of getting the spiel about how he wanted to meet her parents, Charles respected her boundaries and allowed her to make the call for when they should meet.

The club that the gig was in was dark and filled with smoke. The only light source being the lights from the stage that bloomed with color and reflected off of the instruments and faces of the crowd. Delilah had been to many gigs, never fully in the crowd though. It was difficult at first for her boyfriend to get her to come but she came nonetheless. Charles’ concerts were much different than the ones she had been to, the crowd was only of hundreds and not hundred thousands, the band (known as Cash Only) played in very small venues with closed roof which was of course, a stark contrast to the Wembly’s and Budapest’s among other famous Queen venues. In a way, that’s what Delilah loved so much about these concerts, they didn’t allow her to think of her childhood, the just focused on music and the feeling that it brought, not the memories of Freddie’s warm hugs or encouraging words, or the luxurious things that her father and Roger would take them to do. Charles’ concerts allowed Delilah to enjoy music again.

This quickly became Delilah’s new and improved schedule, instead of staying at home all day and doing nothing, she hung out with Charles and went to lunches and fancy dinners. Delilah was content, a word she hadn’t used since in a very long time. She talked to her family more, even her siblings seemed like they wanted to talk to her! The concerts really helped to because while they were a great distraction from her past, they also let the woman pretend that for a second, just a small moment, that Delilah was back in those massive arenas with deafening screams. Delilah could pretend that Jim and Freddie were there and by the time Cash Only set was over, her blue eyes would by red from tears. Charles never questioned it, Delilah had opened up to him about her struggles with Freddie’s death as well as Jim’s. While Charles was a big Queen fan, Delilah noticed, he only ever asked about her father.

This normal schedule of concerts and hanging out would pass on for another month into the anniversary of Freddie’s death. Delilah had already told Charlie that she would prefer to be alone because she would be having her father, Rog and Brian over  the whole day. The four of them would all hang out together just supporting each other. Phoebe would come over later for supper, he much preferred to spend the day alone typically.

The morning of the anniversary rolled around like a thunderous cloud, black and thick with moisture. Delilah’s body felt heavy and her head pounded. The Lodge seemed especially empty on a day like this day. Charles had still never been to the Garden Lodge mainly for safety reasons, so it was still just the workers and Delilah. Delilah had her nails painted red in representation of AIDs awareness, sparkly of course because Freddie was known for his extravagance. The sunlight shone through the window and gleamed off of her bright red nails as she put her locket on, immediately sending her into tears of pure anguish. Her brain was going through the torturous moments of having to relive her last moments with a very sick Fred. As the years passed, missing him would never ever get any easier but this year felt especially gut-wrenching because it also meant the loss of his husband too, Jim.

By the time John had arrived, Roger and Brian were cooking breakfast, Delilah sat on a stool at the table with a large blanket surrounding her. No one spoke. No one needed to. They just needed each other’s presence and comfort to get through.

Throughout the day, the Lodge was quiet, the workers had warned them not to go outside because hundreds of mourners were at the gate of the lodge paying their respects. Delilah’s heart warmed because it didn’t matter that Freddie’s death was almost twenty years previous, he still had such an impact on such a large audience, she could never ever turn the mourners away from the Lodge if it meant that they got to pay their respects.

By the time Phoebe had shown up, the four people were sat on the couch, tears still falling silently. There was nothing to ease the hurt, their friends and family were taken and there was nothing that could bring them back.

The sky grew dark meaning this wretched day was almost over, Charles hadn’t texted Delilah all day thus bringing surprise to Delilah when she had seen that he had texted her. Don’t check the news right now. The text had said, which of course prompted the brunet to check it, she suddenly had thousands of notifications once she opened the app, after finding the culprit of all of this mayhem, a gossip organization was talking about Freddie’s death and had pictures of all of the mourners outside of the lodge when suddenly, a picture of Delilah and Charles popped up on the television.

The reporters spoke about how there were numerous sightings of the “mysterious Deacon” and further questioned where her father would be. Delilah’s heart stopped, for so long she and her father had stayed out of the limelight. Luckily, there were no pictures of her father, just ones from the 90’s. But Delilah knew how the media worked, now that someone knew something about her whereabouts, this would spiral in the frenzy of trying to figure out where not only she went burt where her father went too.

Winter, 2010

The media had stayed relatively calm, Delilah still stuck with her schedule she had created with Charles. Of course, there were still pictures but somehow Charles always ended up standing in front of her and the camera, flashing a darling smile at the paps. It confused Delilah, she didn’t understand why he felt the need to stand between her and them or that he had to give those ridiculous smiles. Delilah just kept pushing through, living life whilst attempting to get over her past.

Christmas time rolled around quicker than Delilah could’ve imagined and the inevitable question came from her boyfriend. “I think I should meet your parents.” He didn’t ask it as a question, he never did, he normally just said it and that was it. Charles’ nature almost seemed non-negotiable, Delilah was starting to feel uneasy about what kind of relationship she was in with this seemingly sweet, rugged man.

Up until Christmas came, Charles wouldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to meet the John Deacon. He no longer would ask questions about Delilah or ask her about her day, all he cared about was Queen and specifically her father’s roll in it. She didn’t really mind at first, understanding what it was like to have someone to look up to. She was so grateful that someone appreciated her father as much as she did and thus she didn’t quite mind answering a question or two about the luxuries of rockstar life.

Her relationship was going on 5 months long, yet it no longer felt like a relationship. It felt like the only person that was contributing was herself and even then it was barely. The separation didn’t help that Charles’ band was growing more popular (thanks to the paparazzi pictures finding out who he is), this made Charles much more focused on music than actually kissing his girlfriend hello. Yet, despite all of this, Delilah was still deeply in love with him, when he would kiss her, fireworks spread throughout her body. She longed for touch she didn’t allow herself to have but with Charles it was so easy to let herself go. So, he stayed.

Christmas was a quiet affair, all of her siblings were present with their S.O.’s, the warmth of the Deacon household was christened with Christmas. Delilah loved Christmas, it was always so warm and fuzzy. It also was the best because her older siblings used to sneak her eggnog that had a kick to it and her siblings actually spoke to her. Charles was a hit, her siblings and mother doting on him and making sure he was well fed.

“He seems nice.” John whispered, standing next to Delilah handing her the alcoholic drink. Delilah nodded, feeling at peace with how well having someone meet her family went. The rest of the holiday continued with presents and even Charles got a bunch of nerdy bass things from John. There was so much laughter, if only it had lasted so much longer.

A couple days later, Charles had completely ghosted Delilah. No texts, no calls, no emails, nothing. She didn’t want to seem clingy by sending him a constant stream of worried messages. Roger and Brian were kept in charge with making sure everything was okay, Deaky’s orders. Anxiety pooled in Delilah’s stomach. This went on for another week, she even went to the coffee shop he worked at only to discover that he no longer worked there. He could be dead, he could be hurt, hospitalized, anything, and Delilah was stuck not knowing what was going on.

On the eighth day of not knowing where her boyfriend was, Delilah received a text. We’re over, been seein one of the band’s fans, hope you don’t mind if i keep the bass stuff. And just like that, another rock bottom had been hit. Delilah read the message over and over again, trying to see if it was real, if it was Charles and trying to understand how everything in her life had changed within the matter of seconds, again.

The deep feeling of anguish roared into her chest, the brunet threw her phone across the room, catching the attention of Brian and Roger. This feeling she had wasn’t grief however, it was embarrassment, loneliness, heartbroken. The two men ran to her and grasped her shoulders trying everything to get her breathing to slow. The sobs were harsh, chest wrecking, her sweet, sweet Charles was gone. Someone normal and kind, who cared about her, gone. Delilah couldn’t understand what she did to deserve this life of sadness. The dark cloud that was once black over her head had started to become a lighter grey, but storms come and go, this time it seemed just as strong as the others.

All Delilah wanted was to be normal, to love and be loved. She didn’t ask for her family to be what it was, she didn’t ask for her family to be affected by this wretched disease. No, all Delilah wanted was a sense of normalcy in her shrouded world.

At some point one of the men had gotten up to get Delilah some water, Delilah didn’t know who and she didn’t care. All she could do was focus on the weight of the locket that brought a fraction of comfort. A shrill ringing overtook her ears, someone answering it, again, Delilah had no clue who was talking, her brain just running through the recent events.

The telly in front of her turned on, Roger’s hands shakily holding the remote. Images of her home, not the Lodge but her family home. Images of her dad, mother, and siblings talking and laughing. These would be normal pictures, family pictures that could’ve been kept for a keepsake. But they were in the news, a detail Delilah noticed was that it was Christmas. The only one who could’ve taken these pictures was… him. Her life, her private life not to mention her father’s life was exposed for the world to see. They had took such care of everything, keeping everything quiet and not trying to be bothered and all of that was being blown up right in front of their very own eyes.

This heartbreak was much worse, she knew she let everyone down. The Deacon family was very cautious about bringing outsiders in and Delilah broke the most important rule they had. The Deacon’s wanted a quiet and private life, but Delilah had to go and ruin everything.

Roger and Brian were trying to talk to her but still, her ears didn’t put together the functions needed for her brain to register the words. Nothing made sense, everything was going so well, but Delilah had to get close to someone like she did with Freddie, Jim, her siblings, friends from school, etc, and the end result turned catastrophic.

The tears poured out again, there was no coming back from this. Her life would be absolutely insane for a while now, paps trying to get more of her privacy that she clung to, people trying to learn more about who she was associated with. Brian’s arms held her tightly, whether that was to restrain her from doing something bad or for comfort she didn’t know. Delilah’s brain was going a million miles a second, trying to ground something.

The front door to the Lodge slammed open. “Delilah!” Her father roared, steam-rolling into where she was. The hairs on Delilah’s neck stood, her father knew how to use his words to tear someone apart piece by piece. She had heard plenty of stories and had even witnessed it once herself. Her regularly friendly father was pissed. Her mother was behind John, trying to hold him back, they both had tears streaming down their eyes, disappointment laced within them.

“How could you?” John whispered, he was so frustrated with his daughter that he couldn’t even think to notice how upset she was. “You ruined our privacy, your damn relationship and decisions ruined our lives.” He went on and on for what seemed like hours, using his words to pick apart every insecurity that she had to emphasize just how bad this whole situation was. Brian, Roger, and Delilah’s mother kept trying to get Deaky to stop but he kept going and going. By the end of the monologue, there was nothing left of Delilah’s heart. It was so broken that there were no longer pieces, it was just dust that was carried off into the wind.

For her whole life, Delilah just wanted to please her family, she just wanted to be like her Daddy or Uncle Freddie or her Mummy. Delilah wanted happiness but it seemed she would never happen again for her. There was nothing left for John to feast on it seemed. Everyone stood silently, not knowing what to say, tears were coming down in waterfalls, tears that should’ve been gone but Delilah figured with all of her sadness, they wouldn’t go away.  Roger moved to talk but John had one last thing on his mind, he looked at Delilah right in her blue eyes and spoke, not caring that they shone with tears just like they had when Freddie had died.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” he whispered, almost too soft for her to hear. Her mom protested, saying that John was not thinking straight. “I don’t want to have any calls from you, texts, books, movies, dinners, lunches you name it, I don’t want it Delilah. You ruined our bloody lives, just like you ruined Fred’s” None of it made sense, nothing made sense. John turned on his heel and walked out, not caring about how the screams of anguish twisted his heart, not listening to Brian and Roger or his wife. He was blinded by madness so harshly that he couldn’t see that he had obliterated any kind of relationship that he had had with Delilah.

As for the brunet, she couldn’t take it anymore, she had to get out of the Lodge, not knowing where, she just knew she didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s lives like she thought she did.

tag you’re it: @ironqueen98 @bellamy1998 @missmercurythekillerqueen @philosophical-dumbass @deacydeacy @wanderlustnightwanderer

[mst3kproject]

I Was a Teenage Frankenstein

Have I somehow not already reviewed this? Shit, I better get on that.  If the title alone weren’t enough, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein has Gary Conway from The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent, Phyllis Coates from Invasion USA, and sure enough, Whit Bissell from I Was a Teenage Werewolf playing more or less the same mad scientist character. Though sadly, there was no part for Pepe the Latino-Transylvanian janitor.

Professor Frankenstein, yet another modern descendant of the fabled Baron, is looking for medical applications of his ancestor’s work.  He thinks he can bring dead tissue back to life, and allow it to be used in organ transplants.  Naturally Those Fools at the Academy tell him it’s impossible, so he’s determined to Show Them All.  Conveniently, shortly after this declaration a car full of drunk teenagers crashes just outside Frankenstein’s home.  He and his buddy Dr. Carlton sneak off with one of the corpses, and over the next few weeks they assemble bits and pieces into a boy.  Problems arise when Frankenstein, true to form, refuses to acknowledge the humanity of his creation.  The boy wants to see the world outside the lab, the Professor’s fiancée Margaret is getting curious about what goes on down there, and Carlton is having more and more qualms… there are many ways this can end, but none of them are happy.

We’ve got some awesome mad science going on here, with a lab full of blinky light machines and a secret stock-footage alligator pit that, yes, the mad doctor does get chucked into at the end.  Lots of severed body parts are thrown around, all of them enormously fake but pretty gruesome nevertheless.  The horrible, horrible monster mask falls into this same category.  My favourite moment in the film is when Frankenstein takes his creature out to pick out a new face, and comes back with a severed head in a birdcage! My second-favourite is the traumatized witness to the car accident wailing “what a crash!”  I’d be hard-put to choose between the two for a stinger. And at the end, the movie does the same thing as War of the Colossal Beast, suddenly switching from crisp black and white to shitty desaturated colour, and it has the same effect.

But none of that is what the movie is actually about.  If there’s one thing I want to say about this film, it is the truly astonishing fact that I Was a Teenage Frankenstein appears to have been written by somebody who actually read Mary Shelley’s book.  This is not a claim that can be made of many Frankenstein movies, and certainly not of any that previously appeared on this blog.  I’m not sure the writer of Frankenstein Island had even seen any of the movies.  Although I Was a Teenage Frankenstein borrows only the barest of bones from the book’s plot, the emotional center of both is the doctor’s relationship with his creation.

The reason it’s a teenage Frankenstein, by the way, is because the professor believes one of the reasons his ancestor failed at creature-creation is because he used old, worn-out parts.  By choosing bits from young men cut down in their prime, he feels the result will be healthier and more resilient both physically and mentally.  He seems to be right, too.  His creature is not a shuffling abomination, but an intelligent and articulate young man who longs to ‘go out among people’ and is absolutely crushed to find that the ones he meets are terrified of him.

The Professor is proud of the progress he makes in teaching his creation to do things like walk and speak, but he seems entirely uninterested in the boy’s happiness or personality.  When he sees his creature crying, he is pleased that the tear ducts work.  When Margaret expresses fear of the ‘monster’, Professor Frankenstein tells her to think of him as something ‘like a machine’, a creation of science.  Finding he needs to get his creature out of the country in a hurry, he has no qualms about taking the boy apart to ship and reanimate later.  He never even bothers to give his creation a name, addressing him simply as ‘my boy’ – never just ‘boy’, but always ‘my boy’.  The possessive is important here.

Indeed, as his creature gains humanity, Professor Frankenstein seems to lose his.  At the beginning of the movie, the Professor (who never has a first name, either – he is a scientist, not a human being) seems very much in love with Margaret. As events progress, he becomes colder and colder towards her, and eventually manipulates his creation into murdering her.  Shortly thereafter is a tense moment in which we worry that the same thing will happen to Dr. Carlton.

Don’t think Frankenstein started off as a good person, though.  Though he claims to love her, he slaps Margaret when she asks what he’s working on in the basement.  When he first describes the experiment he’s about to perform to Dr. Carlton, he says he’s using the ‘principle of selective breeding’, choosing the best parts to put together into a human body.  This will be a step towards ‘perfection in the human race’. That’s the sort of language that should worry just about anybody, especially when it’s coming from somebody with a German name.  Unfortunately, the movie shies away from actually exploring the issues of eugenics or racial purity that it seems to bring up here.  You can see why they might not want to go into that, but it’s a shame they left it hanging there.

With this for his upbringing, the creature is not a model of morality either.  He eventually escapes from the lab and goes outside to interact with human beings. The first person he sees is a girl sitting and brushing her hair – when she notices him, she screams, and he accidentally kills her as he tries to make her stop.  The incident clearly has a terrible effect on him, but this has far more to do with the way people reacted to his face than with the fate of the dead woman… the creature never seems to feel a moment’s guilt about the latter.  Perhaps this is because of the way Frankenstein raised him, or maybe it’s because, being a reanimated corpse himself, the boy does not think of death as a permanent fate.  Again, the question is not explored.

That’s the main problem with I Was a Teenage Frankenstein – it keeps suggesting things it doesn’t want to follow up on.  This becomes a particular problem at the ending, which is very unsatisfying.  Frankenstein sets about taking his creation apart for transport, the boy objects and kills him, and then commits suicide by electrocuting himself.  Throughout the movie, the only thing the creature has expressed a desire for is to interact with people who aren’t afraid of him.  Having just removed that stupid monster mask had his plastic surgery, he is on the cusp of being able to do so… but he never gets the chance.

Not only is this disappointing in itself, it also leaves another plot point unsettled.  In order to get a normal-looking face, Frankenstein and the creature killed and beheaded a young man named Bob, traumatizing Bob’s girlfriend Arlene in the process.  We see Arlene’s mother describe the incident to police officers, and offer them a photograph of Bob so they can identify him if they find him.  All these characters then simply vanish.  The next scene is Frankenstein telling Carlton that they’re going to take the creature apart for shipping, and then the movie ends.

What I wanted to see at this point was the creature going out and talking to people like he always wanted.  It would seem to be going awkwardly but not bad, but then he would run into Arlene, who identifies him as Bob and tries to spread the word that he’s still alive. This would make the creature feel that he has to kill her to keep her quiet, and ultimately bring the police to Frankenstein’s door.  Instead, the movie goes with an ending that feels like kind of a cop-out, like they ran out of time and just had to finish the story as quickly as possible.  We don’t even get a decent explanation of how he knew the two scientists were going to take him apart.

This is doubly disappointing because they could have had time.  There are early, talky scenes that could have been cut down a little in order to show us things we’d rather have seen.  The movie doesn’t drag much, but there are bits where it lingers on stuff we don’t need to see, like Margaret getting the key to the lab copied, or establishing that Frankenstein knows where the Lover’s Lane is.  Alternatively, since it wasn’t going to make a plot point out of Arlene, they could have cut that scene with her mother talking to the cops entirely… that would have made the ending feel less irrelevant.

In the end, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein reminds me a lot of another favourite bad Frankenstein movie of mine, Lady Frankenstein.  The two films share a lack of ambition.  Both have everything they need to be a much more interesting and thought-provoking take on the original material, but Lady Frankenstein chose to be about Rosalba Neri’s tits and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein tosses ideas around willy-nilly without ever giving any of them a chance to stick.

The weirdest thing about the movie is that it doesn’t even make any effort to appeal to teenagers!  You’d think a movie called I Was a Teenage Frankenstein would feature the title character interacting with teenagers, or trying to do ‘teenager’ things from the 50’s, like go to sock hops or race cars.  But no, besides the creature, all the major characters are adults.  The closest they come is by encouraging teenagers to identify with the boy as he chafes against parental restrictions.  I Was a Teenage Werewolf was about actual teenagers.  Why didn’t this film, obviously a partner to it, do the same?

[edeneben]

My Coming Out Story

⚠️//TRIGGER WARNINGS: Homophobia, Sexual Assault, rape, depression, self hatred, and suicide//⚠️

If you know me, you know I’m pretty flamboyant and pretty open about how the fact I’m pretty flipping queer. But I haven’t always been very happy being like this, as most other queer people also aren’t and this is basically the story of how I accepted that.

Second grade; the point and time in most people’s lives that is mainly a blur of silly bands, crayons, and story books. For me personally, it was the start of absolute hell.

So I was raised in a pretty religious family. I would end up praying before every meal, before I go to sleep, and at least three times a week at church functions. So really early on I heard a lot of really gross and disgusting things. (Not to say all religious people are bad, it’s just I was raised in a conservative republican town were Friday nights are spent at youth group by most high schoolers) so by the age of seven or eight I heard the words “faggot” and “queers” thrown around a lot and the whole “All homos deserve to burn in Hell and be stoned.” Though, I did’t really understand the concept of being gay, or love in general.

So you could sarcastically say I was off to a great start.

In elementary school we would read these short stories in these obnoxiously massive books, and one of these stories was about a hedgehog or something baking a yellow cake. As a fun activity my teacher Mrs.Blair has us bake a cake in groups of four. We didn’t pick our groups, she just kind of shoved our desks together and said “have fun.”

In my group it was two boys, a girl, and me. The two boys were kind of annoying and I basically ignored them the whole time, but the girl was a different story. I noticed that she had short, messy light brown hair, very pretty greenish eyes, and a very cute smile. I took a liking to her pretty quickly and I started sitting with her at lunch instead of with my friends. I knew I really enjoyed being around her and that I thought she was the actual prettiest person I had ever seen. Though, I didn’t get why.

Then my friends started talking about boys and crushes. I couldn’t relate to anything they were saying before but after I met the girl, I did start to relate. But I related in a different way. Everything they said about the boys they liked were how I thought about her. Wanting to hold her hand and play house with her and crap. (We all know playing house together was the way to flirt back then)

So inevitably I was like, “Oh. Why am I the only one thinking about girls? Am I weird?” And then I kind of understood I was the bad thing they talked about in church all the time. I was the evil horrid thing that didn’t have a place in being there. Which, was a horrible thing to think about.

This was when self hatred really set in. Not only did I deal with that crushing reality, but my teenage brother also started arguing with my parents a lot and hearing the fights really hurt me mentally and I started crying myself to sleep.

I was eight. None of that stuff should have been a problem, though of course it was. *** Then in third grade I started praying a lot more and I joined an after school church club thing ran by my church.

Every time we would meet, Father Michael would ask those of us who haven’t been saved to go to the back of the room and pray with him to get saved. He kind of knew something was up when I went back there every single meeting, but he never asked. Probably for the best in all honesty.

Then I was like, “Yeah okay all of the praying has to be working by now and I’m totally not a homosexual now lmao.” Which, obviously not but I pretended to like guys anyways. (Ey Tyler waddup bud, yeah that was you. Jokes on both of us were both gay now love youuuu)

The day I told everybody I totally definitely liked him was the day before he moved away so I wouldn't have to deal with it. So. Yeah. *** Fourth grade was more of the same, just sadder tbh. Oh and I got another crush on a girl named Kayla I dated twice. Almost three but let’s not get into that. ( @kayla-le-queen ) *** Fifth grade was the first time I ever said I liked girls out loud. Though I kind of lied to myself and said “ha ha I like both.” Which I didn’t, but I had convinced myself that I was slightly ‘normal.’

It’s kind of a weird story as I had just been swimming with my other religious friend in their pool and I was like “oh by the way-“ Which, describes how awkward I am perfectly.

This is also the year I started making internet friends who had the same interests and experiences as me and I was sort of getting my footing with myself. *** Nothing prepared me for the absolute shit storm that was sixth grade.

Not only did I deal with hitting puberty, drama, a new school, and the surfacing of panic attacks, I had to deal with getting outed. Yep. Let’s get into it shall we?

Sixth grade. I came out as bi to a couple of my friends and stopped going to church. Only low key though. I wasn’t looking for my entire life to be flipped upside down. My parents were casually homophobic and my peers were actively expressing that.

Still, I decided to start dating someone.

Remember my friend who I came out to in the pool? Yeah, them. I dated them.

BIG MISTAKE.

As soon as we started dating, they told everyone. I told them “no one needs to know, we should keep it private you know? For safety.” They refused to listen.

By the end of the day everyone in my grade and even some upperclassmen knew that I was bi. Though the message got messed up and everyone thought I was a lesbian. (Which made me uncomfortable because I was still mfnsjsjjd about gender and stuff) (that’s a whole other coming out that I don’t want to get into in this as the whole thing is not anywhere near over)

Then the bullying for it started happening.

I was the first “out” kid in my grade so of course I was met with a bunch of crap.

Girls in locker rooms would yell at me for looking up at all, and there was one incident were a girl decided to come up to me, grope my chest and laugh about it with her friends because, “I was just a dirty lesbo pervert who probably enjoyed it.”

Guys would say repeatedly they could make me straight and also would do similar things to what that girl is.

Did I tell my parents? No of course I didn’t. I wasn’t out and I needed it to stay that way. My dad had anger issues and he had once hit my brother out of anger. So, I didn’t really feel completely safe to be quite honest. (It’s kind of better now. He still gets angry easy but he only had one more incident and that was years ago.)

I ended up breaking up with that person because I clearly couldn’t trust them and I was very upset with them. I still blame them. *** Then seventh grade happened. As per usual things got worse.

My parents found out about my internet friends and read all of our messages and I got outed to them.

Then my parents never trusted me again and took away the one good thing I had in my life that was consistently there for me and genuinely made me happy and feel safe.

Their homophobia also worsened. They also outed me to all of their friends and family. (Thanks mom)

I also attempted suicide for the first time. My parents and friends still don’t know about that. *** Eight grade was the worst year of my life. In eighth grade I kind of realized I was ace and came out to my friends and the girl I liked at the time.

I kind of blocked out homophobia at that point. Yes it was still happening to me and it had gotten worse, but eighth grade was a blur for me.

I can’t really remember much of it.

My English teacher who was a mother figure, Mrs.Freeze, who was the first adult to accept me, died during the last two weeks of school.

As well as an extremely traumatic event happened.

I might delete this part when I upload it but if I don’t I want you all to know that this is where I’m warning that sexual assault victims might want to click away at.

I decided to go on the Washington DC trip with my school and the girl I liked went with me.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours so I was asleep rather quickly.

It was four girls to a room, two to a bed. The two other girls left to hang out with their friends and it was just me left alone with the girl I liked and was out as ace to.

She took it upon herself to try to “fix” me.

I woke up while she was doing it and I eventually got her off me and escaped to the bathroom and cried.

I didn’t tell any adult on the trip and I just told a girl that I wasn’t comfortable around that girl anymore and thankfully she didn’t ask why and just switched seats on the bus with me and beds.

I still deal with trauma relating to this everyday, and I still have extreme panic attacks because of it. I lost physical trust with people for a while and I couldn’t be touched by anyone until recently.

This event also drove me to another suicide attempt.

That’s all I can say about that. Acephobia does exist and it can be extremely violent and damaging to people, so please just kindly shut up about ace discourse. *** During freshman year I was finally starting to be accepted by my parents, I came out as queer and ace officially, joined the GSA, met some more gays and life has been a bit better since then. *** My life isn’t perfect and homophobia is still a huge part of it and a lot of trauma surrounding my experience is still yet to be dealt with but I’m getting there. *** So my labels?

Queer and Ace-spec. That’s as specific as I can get I don’t know what you want from me lmao. *** Conclusion? Life does get better and eventually you will find acceptance and peace within yourself. I know you might be an extremely dark place with what looks like no chance of happiness or safety, but I promise you will get it eventually.

I love all of you and I wish you all the best in your own journeys.

Happy pride month.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Nesta in ACOFAS: My Overall Opinion

Below the cut is my stance and interpretation of everything Nesta and surrounding Nesta in ACOFAS. I’ve been as exhaustive as possible in my answer because I’m only making this one post to go through it all.

It is broken up into 5 sections (with subcategories):

How the trauma built

How it manifests

Rhys & Feyre’s responses (with some overall references to the IC here)

Cassian’s role

Nesta overall

The TL;DR of what follows is that I support the direction SJM is taking these characters and it is completely logical as they have been presented to us.

How the Trauma Built

This is to the people saying Nesta was OOC because of her PTSD (though again, Maas is these character’s God and Creator, it’s impossible for her to write OOC).

Nesta was isolating herself quite a bit in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wanted nothing to do with anybody, and also isolated Elain with her. She had a sort of ally in that regard.

Over the course of ACOWAR, Nesta started reaching out more and engaging more with Prythian and the other members of the Inner Circle. She even came close to reconciling with Feyre (more on that with “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses”). 

For Nesta at that point, being alone to process her thoughts and then becoming more immersed in Velaris and Prythian was the right path. It helped her find the ground again after her trauma in the Cauldron, which is very much described in WAR as a violation with similar descriptors to being raped (feeling that their body did not belong to them anymore). 

And then Nesta killed Hybern.

She was built as being incredibly resistant to even the idea of war, and never wanted to fight (More on that later in “Cassian’s Role”). The IC were the fighters, she wanted to maintain the sort of innocence that came from not surrounding herself in blood.

Not only did Nesta kill Hybern, but she killed a dying man. Elain struck the fatal blow- the knife through his neck. He was done for. Because of what he’d done to their father and to Cassian, Nesta snapped and literally sawed off his head while he was still alive.

ACOFAS builds around Nesta’s thoughts of that moment, the last words Cassian thought he would ever say to her, and her own fears during that time. 

I think Nesta would have been alright if “just” the Cauldron happened (not that that was a weak blow). She was finding her way and her strength, she’d accepted that at her core nothing was different. She was still the same Nesta she’d always been- imperious and not someone to fight a war. 

But then she was the one who ended it, and that shattered her sense of self and with it any progress Nesta had made against the trauma of the Cauldron. After 1 traumatic event, it is hard enough to find your footing. After two, spaced far enough apart that some semblance of recovery had been made? Utterly devastating. 

How it Manifests

The Drinking

The IC has always processed things with the assistance of alcohol. Rhys’ answer to Feyre’s marriage to Tamlin was a plan to get blackout drunk. Cassian having a bad meeting with Nesta in MAF meant he went for the liquor when he came home. Feyre fighting with Nesta in WAR earned advice from Mor that it was fine to drink directly from the bottle.

Giving Nesta space to drink all she wanted might not have seemed entirely wrong (at least, at first). Fae healing probably means over-drinking isn’t as much of a threat to their health, and it took them a while to realize and accept that Nesta wasn’t just drinking off stress, she was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic.

I hesitated there to say that she is an alcoholic mainly because she wasn’t showing signs (in her PoVs) of an addiction mindset. She never seems to crave alcohol, and I think overall rather than an addiction it’s an expression of her trauma and attempt at self-medication of sorts (not to say it hasn’t morphed into full alcoholism). 

Again, that isn’t a denial that it’s alcoholism, just a hesitation in assigning the term in this circumstance without more data.

The Sex

If you haven’t read the ACOMAF excerpt “A Court of Wings and Embers” about Cassian and Nesta’s meeting, it revealed something about her back story that she (and Cassian) never mentioned in the core trilogy or FAS: When Nesta broke up with Thomas Mandry, he attacked her and nearly raped her. He got as far as tearing her dress before she managed to escape.

In “Wings and Embers”, Nesta is even sensitive to Cassian’s normal taunts and demeanor because of that experience, she has a bit of a flashback of sorts while they’re talking and he realizes what must have happened. Nesta refuses to give him the name of the man who tried to hurt her (because he promises very sincerely that he will kill him).

For Nesta to go from that to unchecked anonymous sex ties directly into her references in ACOFAS to feeling completely numb inside. I think in forcing herself to bed some random stranger- which “Wings and Embers” makes clear is unacceptable to her- she was trying to trigger some kind of shame or horror response in herself. 

She was trying to feel anything. Even if that feeling was fear.

The IC has always been sex-positive, and they didn’t have that critical piece of knowledge Cassian alone holds about Nesta’s past. So they had no hope of catching Nesta’s behavior early on as the cry for help it is.

In that vein, some people do use sex as a coping mechanism after stress or a traumatic experience (This one being killing Hybern). Nesta was lost and needed to figure out who she was after her self-image was shattered. The sex alone might not be the best way to handle it, but it didn’t raise flags for Feyre and the IC because they didn’t know the piece of Nesta’s story Cassian was pledged to secrecy over.

I did not see slut-shaming anywhere in ACOFAS. If anything, Feyre dwells on it because it’s the piece that really doesn’t fit for her. Nesta used Feyre’s sexual relationship with Isaac as fodder to make her miserable. Nesta is the one who slut-shames in TAR and even leans towards it in MAF when she’s snapping at Rhys (More on that in “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses” next).

Feyre isn’t sitting there going “Wow Nesta is a slut”, she’s trying to connect the dots, again while missing the piece of information that would reveal exactly how Nesta was using that sex in her PTSD. 

From an outside standpoint, Maas was using it to show another way PTSD manifests. Feyre and Aelin both manifest as being hollow inside and completely shutting down. Some people affected by PTSD don’t have that “quiet” route, and so Maas is opening up and exploring another form. 

The sexual aspect of Nesta’s PTSD is specifically to show that fundamental difference in how her trauma needs to be treated (more on that in “Nesta overall”).

Rhys and Feyre’s Responses

This section alone could be a novel, so I’m going to try and keep it fairly linear timeline-wise, but still separate Rhys and Feyre later on.

History

Think about how we’ve seen Nesta in ACOTAR and ACOMAF:

In ACOTAR, she’s a frigid, cruel bitch to her baby sister. She slut shames her, insults her, finds insults that literally make Feyre flinch and digs in harder, and does everything in her power to sabotage Feyre because Nesta is mad at their father. For years she makes Feyre’s life a living hell and even contributes to Feyre’s own psychological issues that Tamlin actually heals in TAR (props where props go).

Feyre has zero hope for life in the beginning of TAR, she even tells her father hope doesn’t exist because she genuinely believes that. It is tied almost exclusively to Nesta’s abuse or things that result from her abuse (if Nesta had helped Feyre instead, they might have been able to find a better footing in their poverty, or at least had a home Feyre didn’t dread returning to).

When she returns to the mortal lands, before venturing out to save Tamlin(’s ungrateful ass), Feyre finds a sort of peace with Nesta and starts to realize why Nesta was so horrible to her for so long. The key here is that there is no reconciliation, just a beginning step towards one.

In ACOMAF, Feyre returns from Prythian almost expecting that same quasi-peace she and Nesta found, only to find Nesta as viciously mean and cruel as she was in TAR (probably because of Cassian, but also her own prejudice against Fae and all that their presence might represent (war)). 

Again, a bit of understanding is reached by the end of the book-

then Nesta and Elain are thrown into the Cauldron.

And guess how Nesta treats Feyre in WAR when she returns? Like shit. Again.

Each time the slide back to cruelty makes sense- TAR --> MAF it is the introduction of the fae element and knowing Feyre’s involvement makes the war inevitably an Archeron problem. MAF --> WAR it is the incredibly traumatic event Nesta and Elain went through, Feyre not being there to help them on the other side, and Nesta feeling as if she and Elain were abandoned to the care of near strangers after such a horrifying event (that again is always described along the same vein psychologically as being raped).

Still, even though it makes sense where she is coming from, Nesta does always return to the evil bitch role and never apologizes to Feyre (though she does come close).

Rhysand

He’s first because he’s easy.

People are harping on Rhysand for how he treats Nesta in FAS but it’s totally in line with canon. Feyre snaps at him in WAR for little offhand comments he makes against Nesta. He’s never had a particularly warm image of her.

Rhys brings out receipts for Nesta’s treatment of Feyre pre-ACOTAR, specifically sending her out to hunt in the forest. Remember what happened to Rhys’ little sister when the older sibling didn’t protect them? And she was meeting him somewhere that should have been perfectly safe, she wasn’t entering a dangerous area armed.

On top of that, he’s seen Nesta slut-shame her sister, and even from a non-Feyre side of things, Nesta has a habit of landing hard blows on his entire IC. His best friends who have helped him through horrible trauma, and she attacks them and repeatedly belittles them. 

From his PoV, even if he wasn’t in love with Feyre, Nesta is just downright evil.

Feyre

Nesta is always going back-and-forth. Even Feyre cannot predict when Nesta will strike a blow (metaphorically) or when she’ll be somewhere in the vicinity of pleasant. She defends Nesta to Rhysand (in MAF, WAR, and FAS), but even so whenever Nesta opens her mouth to say something Feyre flinches or anticipates something horrible.

She doesn’t want Rhys to speak ill of her family because they are all she has left of her mortal life, and she had to literally risk her life to keep them fed for years. She couldn’t let grudges grow, because if she did she might just walk into the woods and leave them to starve. They are her family, and so she feels an obligation to protect both Nesta and Elain (more on Elain in a moment).

That doesn’t mean she isn’t affected by how she was treated, or that old wounds aren’t there. She just doesn’t want to get into it. It makes Feyre more dismissive of Nesta, but she is still trying. She’s just lost the strength to try as hard as she would for Mor or Cassian or even Elain- people who actually show her kindness and love.

Elain and the IC

Mor sees Nesta as a nasty thorn in Feyre’s side, but she knows what it is to deal with horrible family (to a much harsher degree). She supports Feyre and her stance, and that’s it. She tried making friends with Nesta and had her head bit off, so she’s not reaching out.

Amren and Azriel you all know.

Elain is where Nesta isolated herself wholly and completely.

In WAR, Nesta had Elain with her as they processed their trauma. Elain was worse off than she was, completely shut down, and so the isolation seemed like a good idea (you may remember in WAR it was not a good idea when it came to Elain, she needed to be around others regularly to open up).

After WAR though... Elain accepted Prythian. She doesn’t fully accept that things are over with Grayson, and doesn’t entirely acknowledge that she is fae, but she accepts Prythian and Velaris and Night. She accepts the world, even while ignoring her circumstance... and Nesta resents her for it.

Elain was always side-by-side with her, but as Elain settled and Nesta raged, she couldn’t count on her younger sister anymore to just be there and understand. Elain started having her own life and hobbies. She found a way to start processing her pain and deal with it. She wasn’t set back by the death of Hybern because Elain accepted that it had to happen and she was protecting her family and avenging their father. 

Elain is very much the one to let go of grudges, while Nesta holds them in a vice-grip. Nesta resented Elain’s peace, and so she distances herself from even Elain, while still leaving a door open for the sister she always favored (at least for a while in FAS Elain is the one who can get Nesta to do stuff).

Cassian’s Role

From the very beginning of WAR, Cassian has known Nesta isn’t like her sisters.

He wanted Nesta to train, he taunted her over it repeatedly, trying to goad her into it. Cassian’s approach to Nesta has always been the closest to how Nesta needed to be approached. He has a fundamental understanding of her and her personality.

Cassian was once someone without a place in the world, and so he carved it out himself. He wants that for Nesta, but he also knows she has to be the one to take it. He tries to help Nesta while giving her her space, and he also seems to accept that while Vealris treats Nesta as if she’s his (brought up by Nesta herself in FAS), she is still her own person and free to be with whoever she wishes or live as she chooses.

Cassian is trapped between wanting to help Nesta as much as she will allow, and minding that line so she knows he isn’t trying to force his presence or himself on her. He is dismissed and ignored by Illyrians as a bastard and is touchy about that, but he endures dismissal when it comes from Nesta so that she knows he is always there for her.

Still, as much as he clearly loves her and cares about her, he can only take so many hits at a time before old wounds become too raw. That is why he will push more forcefully, but in the end he always leaves it to Nesta to take the final step herself.

Cassian is watching her more closely than the others, and he knows that missing piece about her sexual history. He is trying to help her as much as he is capable, but he also knows she needs something different. She needs real help, and Cassian doesn’t have any right to be the one to drag her bodily off to get the treatment she needs. He also knows she wont open up to some doctor.

I’m not doing a lot on Cassian’s stance because that’s what the next novel is going to be. Cassian honestly sees the same pain on Nesta that he had, and he knows her personality very well. She needs the fight, and she needs to feel like she’s earned and carved her own spot in the world.

She needs training as an Illyrian, a position he has always held when it comes to Nesta.

Nesta Overall

Contrary to how some tumbrs have been spinning it, the IC and Feyre never outright abandoned Nesta.

Even Nesta acknowledges at one point that the IC tried giving her jobs or pulling her along in their group to get her to engage. They tried to help her through her PTSD the same way they did for Feyre, Rhys, Mor, even Elain (given a job early on of designing the Townhouse garden). Rhys has offered her duties or positions, Feyre’s tried to help find hobbies for her, and yet Nesta is resistant to all.

As I said before, Maas is showing another form of PTSD, one that requires a completely different path of treatment. The IC try to heal Nesta the way they healed others, but she was never going to be able to walk that same path, not after what happened with the King of Hybern at least (remember, Nesta accepted the role as Ambassador to the Human Lands in WAR as she recovered from what the Cauldron did to her, then wanted nothing to do with it in FAS).

The IC didn’t abandon her, they just couldn’t understand her, and Nesta cannot express herself to show them how best to help her. 

She’s always been barbed and defensive, and in this case when she needed people to gather around her all the more and see through it, they were pushed back because of her own past actions. The IC cannot help her, because she burned bridges with them time and again and they’re just done taking her punches.

Cassian sees what is happening, and he tries to reach for her- but Nesta doesn’t need him alone to make that leap. Even if she loves Cassian desperately and they are endgame mates (that’s not an ‘if’ that’s a fact), she needs to know the others care.

She needs to know that she is genuinely wanted, that her presence is appreciated and accepted with no other thought than “Nesta’s here, I’m so happy” (why Cassian reacted so strongly when Feyre made mention of the almost buyer’s bargain with Nesta coming to Solstice).

Feyre’s exhausted when it comes to her sister. Rhys and  most of the IC have no reason to reach out for her very much because of her own personality and how it hides deep rooted insecurities. Rhys in particular has dealt with horrible people his entire life and he’s not willing to keep them around that much, not if he believes there is nothing redeeming inside them. 

Nesta is screaming for help in her own way, but unfortunately it’s a case where no one else speaks the language, save Cassian. And knowing Cassian understands makes Nesta feel ashamed and weak, open and judged, so she uses every weapon at her disposal to push him back.

She needs both isolation and acceptance. Nesta cannot open up enough for that, and the rest of the IC doesn’t speak that language. They aren’t wilfully ignoring it, they honestly have no idea how to process it and are frustrated by that lack of understanding.

The minute she got up and went to the dying King of Hybern, this became completely inevitable. Nesta isn’t someone who can be strengthened and forged like Feyre or even Elain- surrounded by gentle love and kindness. She needed to be shattered and re-forged, and when she is she will be stronger, more confident, and happier for it.

The next book is going to be incredible.