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stxrvel · 3 years

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bittersweet feelings (1)

summary: you have to deal with the harsh truth after Bucky arrives from one of his missions.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

warnings: nothing i think, just you know English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

words: +2.5k

note: hi! I've been feeling physically unwell since I last posted and have been in bed, but today I was finally able to get a moment of calm and lucidity, so, enjoy and hope you like it!

also, i've been working on a series that I want to publish soon, but I don't know why I always find it difficult to do all that planning. anyway, I really hope I can bring it to you soon! thank u for all the support!

part 2

part 3

Admiring Bucky Barnes from afar has become too much of a challenge in recent days. Before, you were wrapped up in papers, essays, final exams and projects due, locking yourself in your room at a time or living in your university library, simply too busy to wander your eyes over the sprawling figure of Bucky strolling around the Complex. Ironically, he always spent more time there when you weren't there.

But now, completely free of academic responsibilities and banned from going on missions at Fury's whim, you had a lot more time to wander the halls of the Complex, especially in the gym where the man with the metal arm used to spend most of his time. Many times (if not all the time) you felt like a lousy attempt of a stalker, and you was almost 100% sure that he realised what you were doing but preferred not to say anything so as not to embarrass you. And that was much more embarrassing.

But did that stop you? Absolutely not.

He'd cut his hair a few days ago, and although you loved the way his hair looked on his shoulders and the way it blew in the wind every time he walked, as if he were a model on a bloody photo shoot, you shamelessly admitted that you had quickly grown to love his new style. Because, honestly, did something look bad on Bucky?

Your hands moved indiscreetly across the table, crumpling the paper between your fingers that you had previously been reading, as you watched the aforementioned man's shoulders shake after hearing Sam Wilson say something about Scott's card game. You moved your eyes scanning his entire face, trying to memorise the expression on his face as he smiled so openly, as he almost never did in public.

“Am I interrupting your crazy stalker moment?”

Tony's voice startled you, and you turned your head so sharply to look at something other than Bucky that a slight twinge of pain made its way from the back of your neck to your right shoulder. You grimaced and watched the millionaire sit down next to you on one of the black chairs that were spread out in the first floor cafeteria. Ahead of you, a large glass door separated you from one of the side exits of the Complex, where Bucky and Sam had stopped to talk and, surely at first, discuss the mission Bucky had just returned from.

“I'm not a crazy stalker,” you told him dismissively, but your nerves were eating you up inside. Even though you knew you weren't entirely discreet, you still weren't ready for someone to tell you that you were too obvious for him not to know anymore.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Tony commented sarcastically and you felt a quick pang of fear inside your chest, “I was just coming to tell you that Fury made the decision to send you to Milan with Steve the other week.”

Your gaze finally shifted away from Bucky's figure, closer and closer to where you stood, to Tony and you frowned at him in extreme confusion.

“What? So soon?”

“Isn't that what you wanted? To go back to the camp?”

“Well, yes, but I thought his tantrum was going to last much longer.”

Tony let out a laugh and proceeded to open the packet of peanuts in his pocket, “If he hears you say that, consider yourself fired, kiddo.”

“Then it's a relief that no one heard me say it,” you smiled innocently at Tony, who only gave you a tight-mouthed smile in return.

“It's just a recon mission. Steve thinks there's an empty HYDRA base you can investigate, and you're pretty nimble with that non-digitized document review stuff.”

“You mean I'm good at reading physical documents?”

“You know what I mean, eagle eyes. There's nothing you're missing.”

“Ow,” you croon with a smile, “Thanks for the compliment, Stark.”

“You're welcome. Now, don't go freaking out. Barnes is walking this way.”

He then stood up and planted himself in front of you, as your heart did a wild flip and you felt him pause for a second, before resuming his march at an unnatural pace. You didn't even know if it was possible for a heart to beat that fast. You felt sweat beading on your hands and started to breathe through your mouth as you felt the nervousness take over your whole body.

“What?” you exclaimed, staring at him, sitting uncomfortably in the chair across the table they had shared.

“I told you not to freak out, you're only going to make it worse.”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a frown. Next, you took about three deep breaths to try and calm your frantic heartbeat, before Sam's figure - and consequently Bucky's - appeared in your field of view to the side of Stark's body. The man gave you a look with an arched eyebrow, as if to ask you to behave yourself, which was an exaggeration.

That was an exaggeration. You spent a lot of time with Bucky! Even when you two were alone you didn't feel as nervous as you did at moments like this.

When your gazes met, you could barely return the smile he gave you before you turned your eyes to Sam, who had just spoken but you hadn't gotten to hear everything he'd said because your head was in the clouds.

“...and that you're going back to the camp with Steve. How long since you've been out? Almost four months? You must be anxious.”

You just nodded, looking at him through tight lips.

Tony rubbed his eyes in an exasperated gesture.

“I could ask Fury to let me tag along,” Bucky's voice reached your ears like a forbidden delicacy. It had been several days since you'd last heard it and it was like a gift from the gods, “Lest he bore you with his awkward silences.”

“We don't have awkward silences,” you grumbled quickly, not knowing exactly why you were getting defensive. Tony raised his eyebrows at you and you shrugged in place, “I mean, we talk about a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky's jocular tone didn't do much for your nerves and sanity, “Name a topic you've been talking about for more than three minutes.”

You pursed your lips and stared at his perfect face, uninjured by the mission, as you conjured up memories of your conversations with Steve. Your almost non-existent conversations.

Your cheeks flushed as you realised he was right, but you weren't going to let him win you over this time.

“One time, we talked all night about a movie.”

“If you're going to say you talked about Lord of the Rings, that doesn't count,” Sam spoke with a half smile on his face.

“Why not?” you grumbled quickly, watching the grimace in his face.

“He talks to everyone about those movies. It doesn't even feel like a conversation anymore, it's like a monologue.”

“Careful, Sam,” Tony spoke up after several seconds, “She likes those movies too.”

“Hey! They're good movies.”

“Good for a nap,” Sam let out a laugh.

You watched Bucky pursed his lips and looked down at the floor, holding back a chuckle.

“They're entertaining,” you muttered with a frown.

Sam pointed at you, his eyebrows arched and his corners raised in a playful grin.

“Well, that's it,” Bucky interrupted whatever Sam was going to say, “You know what they say, to each his own.”

“I'm with Barnes on this one,” Tony spoke up, resting one of his hands on Barnes' shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. Bucky watched his hand and then the millionaire's face with an arched eyebrow, but Tony quickly turned his attention away from Bucky to Sam, “Speaking of Steve, he asked me to tell you to look for him in the main room. He said something about a pending conversation.”

Tony put his arm around Sam's shoulders, leaning part of his body to lead him to walk with him out of the cafeteria. They promptly struck up a conversation on their way out of the cafeteria, and you felt your hands shake once you realized you were alone with Bucky after a couple of weeks of not being able to talk properly with him.

You turned your head away from where the two people who had accompanied you a few seconds before were leaving, hearing the creak of a chair being dragged in front of you. You watched Bucky move his body into a sitting position, settling his forearms on the table and his eyes fixed on yours. Settling into the chair, you gave him a tight-lipped, tense smile. Act normal.

“So the boss finally gave in,” the black-haired man said, his lips curling as he interlocked his hands.

You nodded your head slightly, “It was quicker than I thought. I thought he'd never let me back in the field.”

“And can you blame him? You sure scared the soul out of his body,” Bucky arched his eyebrows, and the mere memory of what happened gave you a feeling of irritability.

You grimaced, “Oh, it wasn't a big deal.”

“It wasn't a big deal? Honey, you threw yourself at those people all by yourself.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, like you did every time he called you names when you were alone. He never did it in public, and it was something you didn't try to think about very often.

“So what? This was all unnecessarily dramatic,” you tried to say in the most neutral tone of voice possible as you crossed your legs under the table.

“There were twenty men,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Do you think me incapable, Barnes?” you arched an eyebrow, speaking with courage.

“No, of course not,” he quickly replied, his gaze softening, “But you disobeyed a direct order from Natasha and put your life at risk. You know how Fury is with you, he cares too much about you.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your back fall against the back of the chair, “But I'm not made of porcelain. I'm as good as Nat, she trained me herself!”

“But Fury didn't see her grow up.”

Well, he had a point and rightly so. You had grown up with the boss, who had practically adopted you, which was one of the reasons he used to be overprotective or refuse you to do some things because he thought it was for the best. And that fact had also helped you form fraternal bonds with all the Avengers until you were old enough and capable enough to be a part of them.

Well, you saw everyone as a nice family except Bucky. And that was a big problem.

You watched him through your eyelashes with an almost imperceptible pout.

Bucky gave you a beautiful smile, the kind that could light up an entire city, “Honey, I understand that it bothers you, but the position you put Fury in at the time, or everyone for that matter, made it hard for him not to make the decision he did. Maybe he overstepped, I'm not denying that, but he was scared.”

“There were other ways...” you started to renege again.

“And would you really have listened to him?” he inquired without wiping away his smile. It amazed you how lenient he could be with you, when with the rest of the world he was a hermit and sulky most of the time.

You sighed. Yep, you could be pretty stubborn when you put your mind to it.

“Well, the important thing is that he finally realised his mistake,” you blurted out with an amused grin. Bucky frowned and pointed the index finger of his metal arm at you.

“I think you missed the point of our little debate.”

“No, no... I understand, Bucky, I do. But Fury have to trust my skills a little more. I could against all of them! It was a spectacle.”

“But you're not always going to come out on top, sweetheart. At some point someone can catch you off guard, and that's what Fury's afraid of.”

“Well, it'll have to happen at some point. Unfortunately, I'm not invincible,” you agreed and admitted what he had said, because he was certainly right, with a tight-lipped smile.

You thought Bucky would be amused, or at least agree with you, but he merely bowed his head, frowned and tensed noticeably. You noticed that his expression suddenly hardened, and it frightened you that you had said something that would have angered him.

“What?” you asked fearfully.

He looked up from the table to look at you again, waking up. He gave you a smile, but a stiffer, harder and committed one. Your chest tightened, “It's not.... It's nothing. Just try to be careful next time, more cautious if necessary. You know, strategist.”

“Yeah, I know, I don't risk it if I don't think it's necessary.”

“That's my girl.”

You froze for a few seconds, just watching him, before your face heated up into an all too violent blush. He'd never said anything like that to you before... but you certainly didn't balk at the possibility that he might again.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you smiled shyly at him.

The sound of the cafeteria doors swinging open distracted the man in front of you, but you kept staring at his profile, gawking and surely with heart-shaped eyes. How was it possible that you liked him so much? Even though it had been a while since you last spoke, it seemed that your feelings for him had only grown three times his size.

Then, you heard it:

“Bucky!”

A woman's voice in the distance.

Confused, you turned your gaze in the direction of the voice, which came from the same place Bucky had been watching for several seconds. She was the one who had opened the doors so frantically, then. You frowned at her from a distance, unable to recognise her figure or features; it wasn't usually easy for you to forget the faces of people you knew, and you certainly didn't know this woman.

However, when you turned to ask Bucky, the half-smile on his face gave you the answer without words. Your chest tightened and you clenched your hands so as not to show the abrupt change of mood you had just gone through when he turned his face and fixed his eyes on yours. All without erasing that smile.

That smile he had on his face for her.

“I guess you'll have to go with Steve to schedule everything about the mission.”

You nodded, uncomfortably, not looking away.

“Fine. In the meantime, I'll go on my date,” he crooned, and the burning you felt intensified so much that it felt like you couldn't pass saliva without straining. But you smiled at him, your lips curving awkwardly and your face reluctant to show a feeling you didn't experience.

“Wow, I thought I'd never hear you say something like that.”

“Life is full of surprises, honey,” he said smiling as he stood up, “Do you want me to walk you to the living room?”

“No, don't worry. I'll be there in a minute,” you replied quickly. It was the first time since you had met him that you wanted him to leave you alone for once.

“All right. Good luck with the old man.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your- your- your date.”

You hated the way your voice betrayed you, but Bucky didn't seem to pay too much attention to it as he waved goodbye to you and started walking in the direction of the woman waiting for him outside the cafeteria doors. You felt your chest tighten as you sighed deeply and a couple of tears welled up in your eyes.

Damn it, at what point had all that happened?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #winter solider #james buchanan barnes #seb stan #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #avengers #the avengers #tony stark #sam wilson

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neilmfjosten · 4 years

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aftg quotes that make me go absolutely feral

“You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” “I’m not a hallucination,” Neil said, nonplussed. “You are a pipe dream,” Andrew said.”

Thank you," he finally said. He couldn't say he meant thanks for all of it: the keys, the trust, the honesty and the kisses. Hopefully Andrew would figure it out eventually. "You were amazing.”

“Who said 'please' that made you hate the word so much?"Andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. "I did.”

This,” Neil flicked his finger to indicate the two of them, “isn’t worthless.” “There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.” “And I am nothing,” Neil prompted. When Andrew gestured confirmation, Neil said, “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing.”

“I didn't think I was a personal problem. You hate me, remember?" "Every inch of you," Andrew said. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you." The world tilted a little bit sideways. Neil dug his shoes harder into the floor so he wouldn't fall over. "You like me." "I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him.”

“Andrew kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil’s mouth.”

“You know, I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time. I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.”

“Yes or no?" "It's always yes with you." "Except when it's no." "If you have to keep asking because—I'll answer it as many times as you ask. But this is always going to be yes.”

“Better luck next time, Neil," he said. "I warned you once already, didn't I? I don't feel anything." “Anymore," Neil said, barely a whisper.”

“Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way." “What about the other ten?”

“If it means losing you, then no.”

“Truth is irrefutable and untainted by bias. Sunrise, Abram, death: these are truths.”

“Don't look at me like that. I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”

“Andrew flicked his pack of cigarettes at Neil. "Give me one good reason to not push you off the side." Neil shook a stick out and lit it. "I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

“Let Riko be King," Kevin said, with the exaggerated enunciation of the thoroughly sloshed. "Most coveted, most protected. He'll sacrifice every piece he has to protect his throne. Whatever. Me?" Kevin gestured again, meaning to indicate himself but too drunk to get his hand higher than his waist. "I'm going to be the deadliest piece on the board."

“It's always been 'go'. It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'. I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. But Coach gave me keys to the court, and you told me to stay. You gave me a key and called it home.”

“"No, but really," Nicky said, looking wide-eyed at Neil. "What happened?" "Neil hit Riko," Matt said. "It was beautiful.”

“Kevin was silent for an endless minute, then said, "You should be Court." It was barely a whisper, but it cut Neil to the bone. It was a resentful goodbye to the bright future Kevin had wanted for Neil. Kevin recruited Neil because he believed in Neil's potential. He brought him to the Foxes intending to make a star athlete out of him. Despite his condescending attitude and his dismissals of Neil's best efforts Kevin honestly expected Neil to make the national team after graduation. Now Kevin knew it was all for naught; Neil would be dead by May. "Will you still teach me?" Neil asked. Kevin was quiet again, but not for long this time. "Every night.”

“You never explained the change of heart." “Maybe I got tired of seeing Kevin bend. Or maybe it was the zombies. A few weeks back you and Renee argued contingency plans for a zombie apocalypse. She said she'd focus on survivors. You said you'd go back for some of us. Five of us. You weren't counting Abby or Coach. Since you trust Renee to handle the rest of the team, I'm guessing the last spot is for Dobson. I didn't say anything then because I knew I'd look out for only me when the world went to hell. I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to go back for you.”

“Is your learning curve a horizontal line?”

“I won't be like them. I won't let you let me be.”

“I will ask you only once to tone down that animosity." "I can't," Neil said. "I have a bit of an attitude problem."

“My name is Nathaniel Wesninski," he said, "and my father is dead." It wasn't at all funny, but a second later he was laughing. It sounded hysterical but he couldn't stop.”

“You couldn't at least use an Exy idiom? I hate baseball.”

“Neil sucked in a deep breath that ripped him open on its way down. "I'd ask you how it feels, but I guess you've always known what it's like to be second, you worthless piece of shit.”

“This was everything he wanted, everything he needed, and Neil was never letting go.”

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kittyit · 6 years

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on lying

introduction

i need to write an essay about compulsive liars. the main reason is because i am a recovered one.

first, let me establish a few things. this essay is about and for female people, my feelings are simple about male compulsive liars - run, and don’t look back. but this isn’t to say the same advice can’t apply to female liars. i will be expressing a sympathetic view towards female liars in this essay because my own feelings toward female liars are partially sympathetic, but certainly not without exception. i just want to be clear that if your life has been fucked up by, or if you’ve been controlled and abused by a liar, you are under no obligation to feel any sympathy towards liars. the same for if it hasn’t been and you just dislike liars for any reason! i know i hold these views for a specific reason and my analysis comes through a specific lens. please don’t think i am excusing the damage liars do by talking about some of the inner workings that result in the lies. there will be a section of how to spot liars that may be helpful if you want to just skip the rest.

so with that groundwork laid, the first complication is that i separate liars into two types of categories. the first is the kind of liar i am recovered from being, the kind i call a compulsive/habitual liar and exaggerator. the second is a sociopath or narcissist. this is tricky because i believe that lying all the time results in a certain loss of empathy for what it means to be lied to. the lack of empathy that would normally separate sociopaths/narcissists from non-sociopaths/narcissists is blurred. there are two categories i name within compulsive/habitual liars & exaggerators, and there is more on this in the section how to spot a liar.

this is a very difficult and intimate essay to write and i hope it helps at least a few women. if you have clarifying questions or want to discuss this further, feel free to message me. what it was like to be a liar

"the liar fears the void." adrienne rich, on lies, secrets and silence (read here)

i’m completely sure of the first time i lied or why, but i think it was this: as a child, i witnessed another child being struck by a car and killed. i believe this witness of traumatic death and the response i got for sharing about it is the root of my lying. i remember being at a children’s church event where the event had been discussed, most likely to ask for prayer for me, and i was cornered by two older boys and grilled about the experience. they wanted to know the details, but above all, they wanted to know if it was cool to see someone die. it hadn’t been, and they weren’t impressed by the details. they recounted for me more gory examples they’d seen on tv and left me sitting on the ground, stunned. there was no big decision from a little girl to stop being vulnerable by telling the truth, but that’s exactly what happened. i had gotten the message that what happened to me was not a good enough story, and i would carry that into adulthood.

i tell this intimate story to present one of the core concepts of my understanding of compulsive/habitual liars & exaggerators: they lie because they believe the truth is not worth telling - “nobody would care about me if i told the truth.”

i started telling exaggerated, gory versions of the story to other kids. the reactions were much more intense. this resulted in intense, conflicting emotions; it was much more satisfying to have a reaction that mirrored the intensity of what i felt, but it was also compounded by the pain of feeling like what i went through wasn’t good enough and the knowledge that i was lying. this is another core concept - liars are unable to feel/receive the genuine empathy/sympathy they are being given because it is being given to a false, constructed personality & a falsified trauma history. this compounds the feeling that “nobody would care about the truth if i told it.” this results in someone who cannot move forward in their trauma healing even with support, even with the appearance of moving forward, because not only are the actual wounds not being addressed, the liar is stuck in a self-perpetuating cycle of minimizing their own actual experiences by presenting exaggerated narratives with the same core.

so, with these seeds of becoming a liar planted, i discovered the internet, and that’s where things started to well and truly get out of control. at a very early age i had grasped the basics of catfishing and encountered (although i didn’t realize it then) different online communities that were full of liars. it was like a battlefield of who was having the worst life. i spent a lot of my preteen and teen years on livejournal in toxic communities, trying to keep up with all the lies. i believe this is when lying transformed from a defensive mechanism into both a compulsion and a method of control.

by lying, i could control two things one conscious, one unconscious. it was obvious to me i could control how people thought of me, but i didn’t understand i was also controlling how i thought of my own life and trauma. things had extended well past the root trauma of witnessing vehicular manslaughter and had extended to varied childhood sexual trauma and physical and emotional abuse. the false narratives i threw up around the actual experiences and the reactions they got made me believe “a lie is better than the truth”.

things grew from there and began flavoring my relationships with people i wanted a friendship with in earnest, not just brief or shallow encounters with strangers online. it became more and more compulsive and habitual to lie and exaggerate. i started using the lying to avoid accountability in situations where i’d done something wrong - for example, in fleeing a situation, i left a room a friend had let me stay in for free during a period of homelessness incredibly filthy and damaged, but in the retelling it became that he’d kicked me out because of my “bad mental health” and i became the blameless victim. while there were instances of him being cruel to me about mental health struggles during this time, the fact remained that i did not hold up my end of the deal he offered (cleaning in exchange for staying there) and fucked up his home before running away from the situation. to avoid dealing with the shame of my responsibility, i simply lied it away.

many liars become functionally addicted to avoiding accountability, blame and shame. when the process of rewriting a narrative has already been established, it’s a pretty easy & natural leap from making your trauma seem more “worthwhile” to making your SELF seem more “worthwhile”, all the time while having the internal experience of your experiences and self being seen as utterly worthless without the lies. one pattern that was the most difficult to shake was the habit of exaggerating. i think of exaggerating in this context as the process of intensifying a real experience. i'll share an example i find particularly shameful - i had a pattern of being given upsetting looks or being laughed at in public and, when reporting those incidents, exaggerating them into outright, blatant street harassment, being pointed at, or approached. never mind that i HAD sometimes experienced outright and blatant street harassment, being pointed at, or approached, it needed to be every time something happened for me to feel comfortable reporting how fucked up it made me feel.

the longer you lie, the more distorted your thinking about the truth is. by the time i got around to recovery, i genuinely believed that the things i had gone through were insignificant because of how they looked in comparison to the lies. i also believed no one could love me knowing that i’d lied. i was also totally incapable of trusting anyone else because of my untrustworthiness. i'd also begun lying about insignificant things in a compulsive way. the habit of controlling the narrative had gotten so far out of hand that i was unable to reliably report something as simple as how many pieces of toast i had that morning or what color a cat i saw was. the positioning of lying as safety and telling the truth as vulnerability was completely in control of my life and my ability to communicate with other people.

i did not start recovering from a lifetime of lying until about 4 years ago, about a year into my current relationship, and a year before i joined the gender critical & radical feminist community. how to spot a liar

i said in the introduction that i believe this is an essential discussion in our community of women, and i hold that belief whole-heartedly. within the category of compulsive/habitual liar & exaggerator, i think of there being two more subcategories: controlling liars & passive liars. i think that my names for these categories are not ideal but i'm not sure what else to call them. i know that one category named as "controlling" seems to imply that there is a way you can lie about that is not wrong, hurtful and harmful, but that is not my belief. the difference between the two is how the lies are used.

passive liars lie when asked about or offering stories about their life, whether on a larger scale (life stories) or a day to day basis. they lie in conversation. the control they exert is over the narrative. controlling liars do all the same things, but extend to using the controlled narrative to control other people. i understand that some people consider and categorize lying itself as an inherently abusive act, and i would never deny the trauma that can come from finding out you've been lied to. the difference between a controlling liar and a passive liar is an active process of abuse and control instead of the more "passive" effects of lying that come with all lies.

i am mainly writing this section of the essay to try to raise awareness on the tactics and processes used by controlling liars so that potential victims of them can spot them. controlling liars wreak havoc in communities and many abusers are controlling liars. they are frequent and often skilled utilizers of emotionally controlling a situation, gaslighting, and many forms of manipulation. however, by saying that they're skilled, i don't want to imply that any given controlling liar could successfully con and control any person. controlling liars thrive in communities of traumatized, hurting, loving women. women who have been hurt and believe other women about being hurt are perfect targets for controlling liars. controlling liars are discerning in who they select to groom and eventually control, abuse and target women who are naive, compassionate, and/or generous.

one of the first things a liar (controlling or passive) often does when entering a relationship is testing their possible victim. this generally involves dropping a very intense, painful story of trauma in the lap of the person they're lying to and seeing how they react. i find that many passive liars do this in a much more subtle way, but controlling liars will lead with it. they are looking for big responses, an outpouring of sympathy. if they get it, they will often share several more traumatic events in succession, sometimes slowly increasing the severity or unlikeliness of these events. they are counting on empathy, compassion, and guilt (of doubting a woman's trauma) to keep your skepticism and analytical mind in check. it's very difficult to talk about this part of the process because it is undeniable that many super traumatized women do not have well-made boundaries of where and when and how much it is appropriate to share trauma - just because someone dumps a ton of trauma on you with very little warning doesn't necessarily mean they're a liar. and as i tried to establish in the first section, it also doesn't mean she's not traumatized even if she is lying.

if someone is doing this trauma dump on you and you suspect she's lying or exaggerating, there is no need to tell her that. i recommend strongly against it because of the damage that could to do to a woman who isn't lying. one thing i would suggest for handling this type of situation is setting a boundary within it. controlling liars (and really, any kind of abuser), hate boundaries. saying something like, i really feel for you but i don't want to talk about this right now, or other boundary-setting and then watching her reaction both in the short and long term can be very helpful. controlling liars will often react to boundaries with anger and hurt that lingers throughout the whole relationship, attacking you for setting the boundary (how dare you, you don't know what i've been through, etc.), by threatening suicide or other extreme declarations of worthlessness (i guess i'll just kill myself, nobody can help me, i'm beyond saving) or by guilting you in other ways (i thought you were actually going to care about me but you're just like everyone else, etc.)

controlling liars can be extremely sympathetic and kind at first. if you are mutually talking about your traumas, they will often share very comparable situations to your own. it can feel amazing to meet someone who you feel like understands you so well and has such parallel experiences (meeting someone like this for real is a life-changing experience!). there is often an outpouring of details and information on both sides. this is extremely dangerous for the woman who is talking to the controlling liar. the liar's victim doesn't realize that the authentic connection is one way and that the information they have shared is now a liability.

one very important thing to understand about controlling liars is that they are often very easily able to display emotion that reads as authentic or even IS authentic. as i said in the introduction of this essay, the kind of liars i'm talking about have a traumatic core to their lies. there is genuine pain inside a liar, but i can't stress enough how THIS IS NOT YOUR CONCERN when dealing with any liar, controlling or passive. liars choose to lie, and controlling liars choose to use those lies to control and abuse people. but i point this out because especially in real life, it is very hard to keep up an analytical or critical lens when someone is sobbing in front of you or displaying other distressing behaviors. the presence of genuine emotion does not mean the absence of lies.

controlling liars escalate their behavior within the relationships, beginning to use their false trauma narratives to justify cruel and abusive behavior. of course, people also use TRUE trauma narratives to justify their abusive and cruel behavior, but the unique and flexible nature of being a compulsive liar adds specific control tactics. there are a few red flags for these controlling behaviors. one is if someone's trauma (or illness) constantly one-ups yours. this constant one-upping can be subtle or extreme. many liars (from both categories) like to position themselves as the most hurt/damaged/suffering of all, as this gets them the maximum amount of pity, allows them to feel generous by assuring you that your lesser trauma is "still bad" and/or always having a leg up on you if it comes down to a pissing contests.

when you have upset or hurt a controlling liar or you are trying to confront them about something they've done to hurt you, they will immediately begin constructing a narrative to you in which they are absolved and you are not being properly respectful of their illness/trauma. this is often when the sharing that you've participated in earlier will come into play. controlling liars have no qualms about using the things you've shared against you in a variety of ways. they may express a previous abuser was right about you being an awful person (etc.), compare the details of your trauma and their trauma narrative, and just generally do everything they can to gain control in the situation and get you feeling guilty and apologetic.

another red flag of controlling liars is using new, undisclosed details of their trauma as a control tactic, whether it's derailing a situation to put the focus back on them, generating hype and sympathy if they feel like your interest is waning, or just further testing the limits of your loyalty and what they can make you believe. their stories get bigger and bigger, bit by bit. this is also part of how a controlling liar can slow boil you, starting with more reasonable stories but revealing more and more as time goes on and you're acclimated, so a story that would raise eyebrows if given at first just becomes natural, because you love this person and believe her incredible story of suffering and pain.

the last thing that controlling liars are very prone to is isolating (like most abusers) but also triangulating. triangulating is used for a few different things within the language of psychology (here's a writeup on its use in trauma informed therapy and two about its use in discussing narcissistic abuse) so i'm just going to explain what i am specifically using it for here. triangulating is a manipulation process used by controlling liars (and many other kinds of abusers) in which 3 people are involved. sometimes the controlling liar goes back and forth between two people, telling each that the other is mistreating the liar. this way they gain double sympathy and always have one of the people to fall back on if the other one gets out of the cycle. this can be used as a grooming tactic from leaping from one relationship to the next - a controlling liar says they are being abused and positions the person they're grooming as a savior, making it possible to begin abusing the savior as soon as the time/sympathy/support in their current relationship has run out.

i cannot emphasize enough that controlling liars prey on loving, compassionate, traumatized women. it's so horrible to me that having a kind and believing heart can be such a liability in a group full of women who are hurting and isolated by patriarchy, but i have watched controlling liars burn down the lives around them several times within this community, and countless times in other close-knit communities i've been in. once a controlling liar has you, it is incredibly difficult to extricate yourself from the situation, so i'm hoping this guide provides a framework for staying thoughtful and critical even in very emotionally intense situations with other women who are sick and/or hurting.

for more information on big name controlling liars, i would highly suggest these two documentaries: The Woman Who Wasn’t There and TalhotBlond. it's hard to find examples of controlling liars because the lines between them and sociopaths/narcissists are blurred. i think all sociopaths/narcissists are controlling liars, but i don't know if all controlling liars are sociopaths/narcissists, even if their actions are sociopath and/or narcissistic. i think that maybe the distinction isn't all that meaningful except within the context of addressing compulsive lying as a whole. how to stop being a liar

while the last section was addressing the tactics and details of dealing with controlling liars, this section is addressing passive liars directly. it is a very good sign if you read this far that you can, and should, stop lying. here are some of the steps i took.

the very, very first thing i had to do was face the harm of lying, both the harm to myself but especially the harm to other people. for a long time i didn’t really think about my lying and exaggerating that much. i just did it. i felt permanently, inescapably alone. no one except another liar knows how alone you are with your lies, and i’m telling you, i know. i was in a prison completely of my own making telling people who genuinely cared about me a bunch of fake shit to selfishly try to protect myself. it is selfish to burden people with false stories. it turns something that can be intimate, healing, and beautiful into a farce. on the side of it being harmful to myself, there was a reason i felt alone - because i was. if nobody knows the real you and what you've actually been through, the real you is incapable of accepting love, understanding your own experiences, and ultimately moving forward in the long, hard process of healing trauma.

it comforted me that i wasn't a controlling liar, and for a long time i'd felt superior about not using my lies to control people in the ways i've described above. this was a bullshit thing to feel superior about. facing that my lies still had the ability to control and hurt was one of the hardest things i've ever done in my life. i was lucky enough to have a loving, supportive partner and supportive and understanding friends. once i'd told the people i was closest with that i was a liar and had misrepresented a lot of things from my past, the processing of stopping lying and untangling lies from truth began.

one thing i didn't expect to deal with was a surprising amount of confusion about what was false and what was fact. the combination of lying from an extremely early age with the distorted, cracked, and gapped memories of a traumatized child and young adult who often abused drugs that affected memories meant that this process was painstaking and confusing. the shame was intense - to admit the reality of situations in which i'd lied about to disguise the actions i'd taken and the blame i'd shared was so difficult. to be vulnerable about the things that had actually happened to me instead of the narratives i'd hidden them behind was terrifying on a level i can't describe. the worst was realizing some things i'd told myself were lies weren't lies at all.

i feel frustrated because writing these few short lines can't tell you, my fellow liar, what it would be like if you decided to confess you're a liar and try to stop lying today, right now. it feels fucked up. you will have to face not only the breaking down of the internal walls that have kept your secrets safe for all these years but also the reality that you are not a trustworthy person and that people may not respond to you as a trustworthy person after you tell them that you're a liar. when i was lying, i was found to be extremely trustworthy, and giving that up hurt so badly, but i'm both pleading with you and challenging you to do it.

i can't describe to you how incredible it feels to tell the truth. the truth will genuinely set you free. knowing that what you're saying is true and that you fought hard to say it is one of the most fulfilling feelings i know of. working hard to speak and act with integrity and regaining trust from some people feels amazing too. i have made more progress in these few years that i've been recovering from compulsive lying than i did during the rest of my life. i have friendships in which i've never lied now. there are people who only know true things about me. when i feel the compulsion to lie, i've gotten to a point where 99% of the time i can simply say, "i feel like lying about this but, (telling the truth)." when i do tell a lie, i try to admit to it as quickly as possible, within the day, and apologize and explain why, and 99% of these lies are strange, inconsequential lies that might be categorized as "harmless" by some people. i don't know if i can categorize them as harmless, because of what they mean for the way i've acted in my own life.

it's hard to tell you how to stop lying in a list of steps or bullet points but i'll try to sum it up

- face the harm you've done and decide that it matters - tell the people you've lied to that you've done so - understand and accept that people may be angry with you, not want to speak to you, or hate you - do the internal work of facing the truths behind your lies - take responsibility for the things you're responsible for - call yourself out when you want to lie - stop lying & start telling the truth

if you didn't read that adrienne rich essay before, read it now. i was lucky enough to be recommended it pretty early on in my radical feminist journey. i'll leave you with this excerpt

"Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has to be created between people.

The possibilities that exist between two people, or among a group of people, are a kind of alchemy. They are the most interesting thing in life. The liar is someone who keeps losing sight of these possibilities... The possibility of life between us."

the indescribable joys of genuine connection, integrity, and honesty await you. thanks for reading.

#compulsive lying #radfem #abuse

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nickireadstfc · 7 years

Text

The Raven King, Chapter 6 – The Return Of Sassmaster McSavage

In which the Foxes and the Ravens meet, no one has any kind of chill, everyone has eaten a healthy dose of Extra and Dramatic for breakfast, and no one can keep their mouths shut – but most importantly, in which shit gets so, so fucking real.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

You guys.

You GUYS.

Remember how you keep telling me I’m not even ready?

Yeah. ABOUT THAT.

I am writing this immediately after just because I could not wait to comment on the absolute FUCKERY that went down just now.

Fun drinking game: Take a shot every time I swear in this chapter. I have no chill left.

Let’s start at the beginning.

They pulled onto the interstate with thirteen people on board: the Fox team, the two-man staff, and Aaron’s and Nicky’s dates.

Shame. I would have paid to see Andrew and Renee going as wonderful platonic goalie BFF dates.

It quickly becomes obvious that we’re in for a wild fucking ride when Mighty And Stoic Kevin Day already starts having panic attacks while still on the bus.

It wasn’t just Riko Kevin was afraid of. In twenty minutes, he’d be facing his entire former team. (…) Neil didn’t know much about [Tetsuji Moriyama]. The one time Kevin mentioned him he’d slipped and called him “the master”. Neil didn’t need to hear anything else after that.

Oh yeah. THAT SHIT.

Seriously what the FUCK is up with that family. This is 24601 shades of fucked up.

Wymack, sensing Kevin’s panic (not that that’s fucking hard at the moment) resorts to some ah – unorthodox methods to keep his striker calm.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. “You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as possible. Go.”

It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch.

Kevin doesn’t need an emotional crutch, Kevin needs an emotional wheelchair. An emotional prosthesis. Jeez. I’d be drinking, too, if I had to go meet my lifelong abusers face-to-face at a fucking banquet, having to make polite conversation with the people who broke my hand, my self-esteem and probably my will to live.

Also, I’m starting to consider Wymack not the dad of the team, but more the grumpy uncle – not huge on emotional sappiness, getting them hard liquor, constantly calling them out on their bullshit, yet loving them all fiercely. #dicksoutforwymack

Wymack (…) turned to Neil.

“You,” he said, “attempt to behave this time. Don’t pick fights with him today.”

“Yes, Coach.”

Meaning: So, so many fights will be picked today. So many. You are not even ready for all the fight-picking my short-tempered sassy ass is about to do.

With that, the banquet is off!

Thick cushioned mats covered the polished floor to keep table legs and chairs from scraping up the wood. (…) Neil had never seen so many people on an Exy court before. There was still plenty of room to walk around between the tables, but Neil hated seeing a court repurposed like this.

Oh my gooooooood shut the hell up you obsessed knob. It’s not being used right now, so we might as well use it to fit everyone for the banquet. It’s just a wooden floor, for fuck’s sake.

And now – this is where shits starts getting good.

Did I say Neil was Extra™? Did I complain about Kevin being too dramatic?

Forget all that. Meet the true masters of Extra And Dramatic™ – introducing: The Edgar Allan Ravens.

The Ravens hadn’t brought dates. They hadn’t brought any colour along, either. All twenty-two of them were dressed head-to-toe in black. The twenty men wore the same shirts and slacks, and the two women wore identical dresses. They even sat the same way, all with their right elbows on the table, all of them with their chins in their hands.

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS.

Uniform is one thing, but sitting the same way, like ARE YOU ACTUALLY REAL. HOW IS THIS AN ACTUAL THING ACTUAL PEOPLE FUCKING DO.

Of course, some sly fucker in the organization committee had the hilarious idea to sit the two teams directly across from each other. Of fucking course.

Dan, ever the model captain, introduces herself and her team to Riko, as if he didn’t get completely annihilated on national TV by her striker just a few weeks ago.

That Fucker™, however, isn’t having it.

“I know who you are,” Riko said. “Who here doesn’t? You’re the woman who captains a Class I team. You’ve done admittedly well despite your disadvantages.”

“What disadvantages?”

“Do you really want me to start listing them?” Riko asked. “This is only a two-day event, Hennessey.”

OI SCREW YOU YA BIG FUCKNOODLE. I will not have you insult my treasured lionheart daughter like that.

Also, I thought her name was Wilds? The fuck is a Hennessey.

(Side note: I am sorry you guys, this recap is going to be ridiculously long. Every single line here is gold. Blame Nora for writing the sassiest, shadiest, most shocking and just in general best chapter of this series so far.)

It’s time for a new character introduction, one I’ve heard many of you ramble on about on the interwebs – that French dude.

Neil didn’t recognize the man, but he didn’t need to ask. The black number three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau.

Lovely. Another one of those dumb ass face tattoo fuckers. I’m filing you as French and pretentious, my dude.

“You look familiar,” Jean said in heavily accented English.

“If you watched Kathy’s show you saw me there,” Neil said.

“Ah, you are right. That must be it. What was your name again? Alex? Stefan? Chris?”

In eight years on the run Neil had been through sixteen countries and twenty-two names. Hearing one name from Jean wouldn’t mean anything. Hearing three wasn’t a coincidence.

Alright, French and pretentious AND TERRIFYING. COOL.

What the hell??? How??

“Blame my mother,” Neil said. “She named me.”

“How is she doing, by the way?” Riko asked.

That Fucker™ knows. He knows.

This was bound to come around at some point. Kevin being too traumatized to recognize Neil was nothing short of amazing, but I guess we can’t always be that lucky.

It was nice knowing you, Neil, because your ass is fucking dead.

Neil might have answered, but Dan beat him to it with an annoyed “Don’t antagonize my team, Riko. This isn’t the place for it.”

“I was being polite,” Riko said. “You haven’t seen me antagonistic yet.”

And I don’t think I fucking want to, hombre.

Excuse me for a second while I nerd out over the most unexpected reference of this entire series:

Neither of them [Kevin and Jean] had anything else to say to each other, but they stared each other down unblinking. Andrew lost interest before long and leaned forward.

“Jean,” he said. “Hey, Jean. Jean Valjean. Hey. Hey. Hello.”

……………………………. did you just.

JEAN VALJEAN. AS IN, BREAD DAD. AS IN, THE PROTAGONIST OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE MUSICALS/FILMS/FANDOMS OF ALL TIME. Like, I’ve done Les Mis cosplay. Several times. That’s how dedicated I am.

I AM #SHOOK.

However, I am decidedly not liking Jean Valjean – or either of That Fucker™’s posse, actually. They first take a few moments to talk shit about Andrew (“publicity stunt”, can you fuck the fuck off) and then they come for my firstborn daughter Renee.

The woman now on Riko’s right gave a loud snort. “If someone like that replaced you in goal, you must be downright terrible. I can’t wait to watch one of your matches. I think it will be entertaining. We would make a drinking game of it but we don’t want to die of alcohol poisoning.”

“Yeah, that’s be a shame,” Dan said with heavy sarcasm.

DAN <33333

My darling angel, however, doesn’t take the bait.

“Do we have to start off so poorly?”

“Why not? You’re poor at everything else you do,” the woman said. “Is it honestly fun to be so terrible?”

“I imagine we have more fun than you do, yes,” Renee said.

Correction: My darling angel does take the bait – and brings the fucking shade.

“Fun is for children,” Jean said, looking away from Andrew.

If he’d been going to say anything else, he forgot it when he got a good look at Renee.

First of all – “fun is for children”, can you fucking chill, Monsieur Pretentieux Superlatif.

Second of all – what’s that “suddenly stopping talking when he sees Renee” thing about?? Do they have shared history as well? Is he just blinded by her angelic beauty and wants to bone her?

I am absolutely NOT LIKING the latter possibility. Protect my daughter.

The Ravens continue being The Absolute Worst™, talking about how Kevin “belongs” to them (can u fuckin not) and should come to his senses and return to them (as fucking if).

“You should reconsider our offer before we rescind it for good, Kevin. Face the facts. You pet is and always be dead weight. It’s time to –“

“What?” Andrew turned a wide-eyed look on Kevin. “You have a pet and never told us? Where do you keep it, Kevin?”

ANDREW LET ME LOVE YOU. I had to laugh so hard at that, oh my god. That’s the only proper way to respond to something like that, tbh.

That Fucker™, however, has found a new target to harass – ya boi Neil, who has kept admirably quiet so far and has probably bitten off his own tongue at this point trying to avoid bursting out in sass rants.

That is, until That Fucker™ comes for his mom.

“What a coward,” Riko said with exaggerated disappointment. “Just like his mother.”

Cue the moment I stopped breathing.

“You know, I get it,” Neil said. “Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court – yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.”

HOLY FUCKING –

“I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you are physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.”

I had to take a moment. I had to put the book down and fucking scream for a moment.

SASSMASTER MCSAVAGE STRIKES AGAIN, Y’ALL.

I AM YELLING AND CLAPPING MY HANDS LIKE AN EXCITED SEAL FFS NEIL I L O V E Y O U.

Neil leaned forward and look down at the table at Dan, who sat with her face buried in her hands.

“Dan, I said please. I tried to be nice.”

Oh my GOD. That is just the cherry on top of the sundae of EPICNESS that just went down.

I SAID PLEASE.

I cannot handle this. I cannot. Holy shit.

Jean turned on Kevin and spoke in quick, furious French. “What the hell is this?”

“His antagonism is a personality flaw we’ve learned to live with,” Kevin said.

Pfftftftftftt. Kevin is entirely done with this situation and I love it.

However, fun times are immediately the fuck over, as Jean Valjean hints at someone having “bought” Neil and assumes Kevin had recruited him because of that.

And just as I was beginning to wonder hat hell he is talking about – he drops this.

“Riko will have a few moments of your time later,” Jean said. “I suggest you speak with him if you do not want everyone to know you are the Butcher’s son.”

WHAT.

OH SHIT T H E Y K N O W I FUCKING SAID IT OH SHIT WHAT.

Kevin, who has skillfully repressed his memories of Neil up until this point, is about as shocked by this development as I am and has to go have some emergency vodka, like, asap.

Neil, on the other hand, shows some wonderful, wonderful signs of character development.

“Neil, if you can’t be here say so,” Wymack said. “Abby can take you elsewhere until it’s time to leave. Get out of here and get some fresh air.”

It was the perfect opening, but Neil couldn’t take it. If he did, he really would go, and he wouldn’t come back. Running wasn’t easy, but it was easier than trusting Andrew. But Neil remembered the weight of a key in his palm, its metal soaked through with another person’s body heat. He remembered Andrew’s promise to see this year through with him.

“No,” Neil said, finally finding his voice. “I knew this was going to happen. I just wasn’t ready for it. I’m fine.”

Ma BOY <3 Neil slowly learning to trust people and deal with his problems is my No 1 kink.

Actually, No 2 kink. No 1 would be Neil absolutely shade-wrecking people.

They leave their mess of a seating arrangement and find some new spots elsewhere, and later go mingling with the other teams. This goes surprisingly well, mostly due to the fact that it gives Neil and Kevin an excuse to talk about Exy and Exy alone – which is, as we all know, the only fucking thing those two morons can talk about.

However, those admirable avoiding tactics only go well for so long.

It took him a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south.

Are you serious. What level of dramatic holy SHIT.

Did they, like, form this like a dance formation before walking over? Riko instructing everyone where to stand, ‘no, you over there, leave equal amounts of space, come on guys, just form a diagonal line, we need to get going, we need to look intimidating, gUYS’

Or do they do this so often that is has become second nature by now and it’s just how they go everywhere?

I genuinely don’t know which option I find funnier.

But wait – it gets better.

Riko stopped further away than Neil thought he would, but Neil understood a moment later. The rest of the Ravens kept going, flipping their V until they’d trapped the three Foxes between them.

I am crying so much how is this a thing you do, literally what level of Extra and Dramatic™ are you ON, I cannot deal with this.

Please – next time I comment on how extra the Foxes are being, remind me of The V Incident.

Now, just as I was thinking ‘oh shit, this is going to go south again so quickly’… Foxes to the rescue!

Renee appeared out of nowhere at Kevin’s other side. She looped one arm through Kevin’s and held her free hand out to Jean. “Jean, wasn’t it? My name is Renee Walker. We didn’t really get a chance to talk earlier.”

Confusion eased Jean’s stoic mask into something more than a little uncomfortable, be he accepted her handshake. “Jean Moreau.”

For real, I’m so interested in what the fuck is going on with these two. My money is on shared history. This could be my Renee’s-backstory-hungry brain talking, but reading their passages this sounds v v likely.

Did someone say backstory??

[Matt] held out his hand but didn’t look surprised when no one took it. “Guess the pleasure’s all mine.”

“We’re sure it is,” the Raven striker said, “seeing how you’re dating a prostitute.”

“Stripper,” Dan corrected as she showed up and wound an arm around Matt’s waist. (…) “Hopefully you’re smart enough to distinguish between the two professions. If you’re not, I have serious concerns about your academic standings.”

FUCK, YEAH.

DAN, MY GIRL MY DUDE MY DAUGHTER.

She was a stripper! Holy shit! And she’s not ashamed of it, but admits it freely and is even proud of it! Holy! Shit!

Positive depictions of sex workers in pop culture is so, so rare, and I’m so happy we get some here. I did not expect this and I’m v pleasantly surprised right now.

“Hennessey, right?” one of the strikers said. “Such a good name for such a fierce spirit.”

“We were a little disappointed that you didn’t sign up as part of the entertainment tonight,” one of the others said. “We were looking forward to the show.” (…)

The striker grinned at Matt over [Dan’s] shoulder, then tilted forward and sucked a deep breath against her neck.

Dan brought her stilettos between his legs inn a vicious punch.

I repeat myself: FUCK. YEAH.

Also, that’s what a Hennessey is. Noted.

Fun backstory done – That Fucker, Senior™ has arrived. Tetsuji Moriyama is about everything I don’t want near my Foxes, combined into one slimy sack of asshole. The whole “master” thing still both scares and infuriates me.

However, we don’t have to spend long enjoying his absolutely unenjoyable company as Neil is called off to have a little tête-à-tête with That Fucker, Junior™.

“Nathaniel, it has been so long.”

NATHANIEL???????

Did we just discover Neil’s true name, holy shit?????

Nathaniel is a beautiful name, though. I’ve always liked it. Shame.

Apparently, the way That Fucker™ could find Neil so quickly was by getting a glass with Neil’s fingerprints on it from Kathy Ferdinand. Well, fuck.

Riko started across the room on slow steps. “Jean says Kevin did not know who you are. After seeing Kevin’s reaction, I’m inclined to believe him. (…) But you must know who you are, so I am very, very curious to know what you think you are doing.”

Bitch, aren’t we all! Aren’t we fucking all!!

And now- we’ve reached the point where shit gets so, so painfully real.

Did I say earlier I stopped breathing when Neil was dragging Riko?

Fuck that. That was nothing compared to what followed next.

I was not remotely ready.

“You have already cost my family a sizeable fortune and eight years of trouble.”

“How?” Neil asked. “The money I took was my father’s.” (…)

“Nothing your father owned was his!” Riko snapped.

What.

Riko grabbed Neil by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall. Neil’s head hit hard enough to rattle teeth.

“I refuse to believe she never told you. All this time running and you never asked why?”

What.

“You were not running from your father, Nathaniel. You were running from his master.”

WHAT.

WHAT IN THE FUCKING WHAT????

What Riko was suggesting was impossible. The Butcher was one of the biggest names on the eastern seaboard. He made Baltimore his home, but his territory extended from D.C. to outer Newark. He had a fiercely loyal syndicate and a penchant for grotesque executions. (…)

If the Moriyamas really were powerful enough to keep a man like the butcher under lock and key Neil was so far in over his head he might as well be six feet under.

That is amazingly worded, well done. Also, I’m kinda peeing my pants here.

If I’ve looked this up correctly, that’s a territory about twice the size of New York City.

Like. Imagine controlling New York City. And then that – TWICE.

And THEN imagine controlling the guy who controls all of that, and then some more.

Yeah. You dead, bro.

“Learn your place. I will never tolerate this level of disrespect from you again. Do you understand?”

Neil was already in his coffin. He might as well nail it shut. “Yeah, I understand you’re a complete asshole.”

Riko: Neil, no.

The Foxes: Neil, no.

Common sense: Neil, no.

Me: NEIL, FUCK NO.

Neil: Neil, yes.

Thankfully, Matt arrives in order to save Neil from digging his sass-induced grave even deeper, and after some nice threats about ratting his shitty ass behaviour out to the ERC, Riko finally fucks off.

“I don’t think Riko likes me very much. Should I be disappointed?”

Are you fucking serious bruh. Are you serious.

Matt looked skyward as if searching for patience.

Which is, incidentally, the No 1 reaction people have to Neil speaking more than a few polite sentences at a time.

Never talk to me or my short-tempered sassmaster idiot son ever again.

And with that trainwreck of an encounter, the Foxes take their curt leave from the banquet. Some more comments are made – Neil and Kevin will have A Talk™ tomorrow, Andrew got called Doe earlier by Jean Valjean because that was his preliminary surname when he entered the foster system (which probably means the Ravens also know more about Andrew than we should be comfortable with) – but all of that pales in comparison to the absolute FUCKERY we just witnessed.

Holy shit.

I have to go, like, breathe into a bag for five hours.

See you Wednesday.

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#nicki reads tfc #tfc #trk #aftg #nora sakavic #the foxhole court #the raven king #all for the game #I know this is late but this was also a 3.5k monster so I'm really not sorry at all #enjoy my suffering #I'm still not okay

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