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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years ago

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So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

#Hades game #Hades spoilers #driveby meta attack #C plays stuff #I have so much hope!!!!~!#I have so much fear!!!!!#DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ANSWER IS GOING TO BE!!!!!

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everything-y-nothing · 4 years ago

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someone please write this fic

being on lockdown during this pandemic resurrected some major bamon feels. my brain started to obsessively develop the plot for a bamon fanfic and since I do not consider myself a writer, I’m surrendering it to the void.

For your consideration, Bonnie and Damon’s lives after the TVD series finale starts something like this:

Bonnie needs a fresh start after the shitstorm of the last 8 years. Her friends are safe and moving forward with their lives, so she decides to go back and finish up college...far away from Mystic Falls. The idea of exploring anything supernatural is lost on her, so instead of following in Grams’ footsteps as an Occult Studies professor, she takes a different path. Bonnie discovers her passion for Human Rights and Global Health, earning a PhD in Social Epidemiology. Working for a nonprofit jumpstarts her solo trip around the world, traveling through various parts of Africa and southeast Asia.

Her love of travel and social justice advocacy inspires Bonnie to create a digital media publication to share her unique perspective. Self proclaimed anti-influencer, Bonnie creates Currently: Conquering the World with Dr. Bonnie which delivers education through travel – simultaneously offering honest first-hand travel insights, educating followers on important issues faced by the highlighted destinations and checking privilege. The platform uplifts the voices of WOC, POC and marginalized people. It has been featured in a couple of major publications, donates to local nonprofits, hosts a podcast and has a sizable social media following. Bonnie posts a booty shot for every 1,000 new followers to her instagram account to show that there’s no correlation between a badass bitch in a bikini and intelligence.

Magic takes a backseat to Bonnie’s career and she’s okay with it. She still practices and befriends a handful of witches and warlocks through her travels. However, she keeps the magnitude of her abilities mostly under wraps. There’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell that she will let the power of her lineage be taken advantage of again. Bonnie Bennett - joyful, unapologetic BAMF, brainiac and humanitarian - finally found her inner goddess and is making good on her promise to live her very best life.

Bonnie keeps in touch with the remaining members of the Mystic Falls Scooby gang, though marginally - FaceTime sessions with Caroline and Elena when they can fit into each other’s schedules and time zones, long conversations with Matt, and random texts from Damon complaining about anything and everything. In time, the calls become fewer and no news is good news in her mind. Plus, she has a business to run, places to be, people to educate and a patriarchy to dismantle.

At first, Damon struggles acclimating to his new human life. He’s not pleased to have to take up exercising to in order to maintain his physique and misses the strength and agility he once had as a vampire. The lack of bloodlust is a plus. Cooking and eating real food is way more rewarding and enjoyable, another plus. Although, he gets mildly depressed that his body needs to build up an alcohol tolerance and can actually now die from overdrinking. He finally has Elena all to himself which is all he ever wanted and he should be walking on cloud nine, but it’s all so overwhelming. Time is fleeting and he realizes how much he had taken it for granted. He misses Stefan so goddamn much and it doesn’t help that his best friend/favorite drinking buddy skipped town on him. He spends one whole year mourning his brother, wallowing in self-pity, and being the domesticated boyfriend to his Pre Med fiancé before he gets his shit together.

Inspired after binge watching Tidying Up on Netflix, Damon starts applying the Konmari method to the Boarding House. In the attic, he finds his bachelors of architecture along with a set of licenses he got for ‘shits and gigs’ back in the 80s and it sparks something in him. He was productive as a vampire, after all. Damon convinces Caroline to compel NCARB and the State Board of Contractors into reinstating his architect and contractor licenses – because that’s what family is for – and starts a design and contracting firm, working mostly on small tenant improvement projects in and around Mystic Falls. His first project is to renovate the Boarding House which he later hands over to Alaric to run the Salvatore School.

Damon and Elena get married in between the time she ends Pre Med and starts Med School. It’s a spontaneous ceremony at City Hall which Matt documents via Facebook Live. They make it through one year of marriage before things start to go south. With Elena now further away for Med School and Damon running his business in Mystic Falls, they barely make it work to see each other on weekends. Damon falls in love with a dilapidated old bar in the heart of town and purchases it, throwing himself into a major renovation. It serves as a nice distraction from the growing divide between him and the “love of his life.” Year two is the tipping point – Elena wants him to relocate closer her, Damon wants to continue growing his business in Mystic Falls and neither wants to compromise. They see each other even less and argue more until Elena admits she has been cheating on Damon with a colleague, and their decision to part ways is mutual. Not so epic love, after all.

The breakup isn’t as painful as he thought it would be since Elena and him were living separate lives already. He sells the property for which he planned to surprise his ex-wife with a family home and readjusts his plans for the bar to incorporate a second floor loft for himself. It takes Damon almost a full year to finish renovations on his pride and joy, Savior. Blood, sweat and tears went into preserving and restoring original, historic architectural features. He took great care in curating every single detail and it paid off because his bar was voted best in the county and has become the go-to place for intimate date nights and an impeccable drink selection.

Nine years after Bonnie hightailed it out of Mystic Falls for good, three years after founding Currently: Conquering and two-ish years after the grand opening of Savior, the former besties run into each other on the streets of Havana. The run and jump hug from when Bonnie resurrected herself from 90s Hell is relived and they play catch-up over medianoches. Bonnie is leading a group of travelers through Cuba for the next 10 days while Damon is on sabbatical to celebrate his thriving business ventures and divorce. He critiques the photo composition her latest ass shot posted to IG and she points out his new frown lines that would put Stefan’s to shame – and just like that, they’re besties all over again.

Bonnie invites him to join her tour group and having no set itinerary, Damon agrees. It’s truly refreshing to see Bonnie in her element. Bearing witness to the person she has grown into after the supernatural drama of yesteryear only reinforces Damon’s admiration of her. Having no real destination after Cuba, Damon piggybacks onto her next guided tour, leaning into the local culture that his best friend has grown to love so much. He even follows her to Costa Rica before he has to return home.

(Annnnnd that’s where it stopped)

Comments:

Does a similar fic already exist and I just don’t remember haven’t read it?

Would it be too much to ask for accurate characterization and spot-on snarky dialogue, and like, not written in first-person narrative?

Timing - I’ve estimated approx 9 years until Bamon meet up Cuba. Not sure if it makes logical sense with everything that happens in between.

Damon and Elena’s child(ren?) - didn’t consider them...the Gilbert’s shouldn’t procreate, IMO. I don’t plan on watching Legacies and not sure what is canon. The plot would need to be adjusted if included. Regarding the origins of Stefanie Salvatore - I’d say keep this character as DE’s spawn instead of rewriting as Bamon’s kid. Since Stefan killed Enzo, the name would be a sore spot for Bonnie.

Bonnie’s career - mimics that of Dr. Kiona who runs hownottotravellikeabasicbitch on IG - follow her! She’s awesome.

#bamon #bamon fanfic #super extra #headcanon #plot bunny #incomplete #to the void with love #please entertain me #I promise to love you forever #covid 19 delirium #things i obsessed over during lockdown #devil's in the detail #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore

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tragic-vampire · 4 years ago

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Hi! I just saw that new clip of Mark Gatiss as Mycroft and I instantly remembered your fic. I loooved it so much that I constantly reread it because it brings me so much comfort and I loved how you gave life to these characters while keeping with the show canon. I know you said that it's stopped being fun, but I do hope you get back to it one day. I'd like to read what you got planned for mycroft's second proposal, their bachelor/bachelorette party, and lastly, their wedding. I miss your work sm

Hi, thank you so much! I love to make people happy so hearing people still get enjoyment from the fic is nice to hear.

I'm mostly focused on writing my novel right now and even taking a small break from that in the mess that is this year. I'm like 50,000 words away from the ending. Its so close I can smell it but like... man... this year. Im Australian so it started with fires and just kept going with more nonsense. Being chronic Asthmatic I have barely left the house in months.

I feel like if we ever got new content I'd get the bug again. Without new content I feel zi lack the inspiration. Its not the same as writing your own characters.

That being said; don't lose faith. From time to time I am bitten by a fanfic bug. I might decide to write one of those stories one day and either post it in the fic or separately. I've visited old stories in the past and I especially love that one and that world. I was even thinking about Thatch the other day.

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svubloods · 5 years ago

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Imagine reuniting with your family, The Reagans and your boyfriend, Sonny after being undercover (LOST AND FOUND PART THREE)

MATERLIST WITH ALL THE PARTS: HERE

Imagine reuniting with your family, The Reagans and your boyfriend, Sonny after being undercover (LOST AND FOUND PART THREE)

Eleven Months Ago

“Sonny…” You gasped, somehow your footing seemed to go in the shock and surprise of it all and you desperately clutched the bedpost as you continued to look down at the love your life on one knee in front of you.

“Y/N,” He grinned up at you, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Really?” You managed to get out, sniffling, as tears streamed down your face.

“Really,” He promised.

“Are you sure?” You continued.

“Yes,” He chuckled. “But I’m leaving and…”

“Not right now,” He interrupted, “Right now, it’s just us and I don’t want to spend another minute not engaged to you,”

“I love you,” You whispered.

“I love you too,” He replied, before teasingly adding, “I’d love you even more if you answered my question though,”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You spluttered in remembrance, shaking as he slipped the ring on your finger before, standing up and beaming at you.

You stared at each for a second before you grabbed him by the face and pulled him towards you, Sonny grabbed your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You kissed him harder than you ever have before, before resting your forehead against his.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” You muttered, as you wrapped your arms around each other as you continued to stand in the middle of your bedroom surrounded by the tornado of a mess you had created.

“I’m the lucky one…”He started to insist after stealing another a kiss.

“No,” You interrupted, your tone serious as you looked into his blue eyes, “I am. I love you so much that it hurts but it’s the easiest thing in the world. I know I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you and I know I can’t love you any more than I do right this second but I also know that tomorrow I will,”

One Day Ago

“Dad?" Frank Reagan looked up and across the table to meet the eyes of his waiting daughter.

He raised his eyebrows in response as he had been too distracted by his thoughts to pay attention to the weekly argument erupting between his two elder children. The table chatter had died down at his lack of response and suddenly everyone was staring at him.

"Do you have anything to add?" Erin continued, hoping to prompt him, her gaze remaining concentrated on her unusually quiet Father.

"To what?” Frank said quickly without thinking before flashing a reassuring smile at his grandchildren.

He hadn’t meant to worry them.

"You see that Erin he doesn't even need to listen to know your wrong," Danny quipped, in an attempt to distract everyone from his Dad.

It had been happening more frequently ever since the last update on Y/N. Danny had noticed that it was becoming harder for everyone but especially his Dad to distract himself from worrying about Y/N. Luckily, for Danny, his ruse worked and Erin quickly snapped back at him, forgetting all about their Dad’s unusual lack of concentration. Erin and Danny quickly became engulfed in an argument once again much to most of the rest of the table's enjoyment. Jamie's attention though stayed on his distracted father.

"You okay, Dad?" Jamie asked, concern evident in his tone. He gave a stern nod in an attempt to appease him but Frank couldn't help but glance over at the empty seat between Jamie and Sonny.

Y/N's seat.

The seat he insisted on being set for her ever since she had left. Because back then he never knew when she would walk through the door again. Frank knew now though and he knew it would be a while before Y/N would be able to come home from the hospital. If only he could give the rest of them the same type of clarity, reassurance.

Hope.

But he knew better than most that as a parent especially sometimes you have to make difficult decisions. And right now honoring, Y/N’s decision was his priority until he could convince her how much of a bad idea it was that is. Jamie had been meaning to ask. It had been weeks since the last update and it was always uncomfortable whenever he tried to bring it up. Nobody wanted to think about the connotations of having someone you love being declared missing in action. But he knew they had to prepare themselves for the worst as the days wore on the chance of her coming back her home were getting smaller and smaller. It seemed though he was the only one concerned about everyone’s lack of acceptance that she might not come back home.

“Have you had any updates about Y/N, Dad?” Jamie asked, tentatively, his words silencing the table.

Frank took in a sharp intake of breath before shaking his head. At that moment, Sonny walked backed into the dining room carrying dessert, a beaming smile on his face as he presented to the table before quickly noticing the somber mood and frowning as he sat down in his seat.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Jamie was asking about Y/N,” Danny stated flatly.

Sonny quickly snapped in the commissioner’s direction. The hopefulness and desperation in his eyes boringly apparent to the Commissioner. Frank liked Sonny a lot, he was exactly the sort of person he always hoped and imagined Y/N being with. He was good for her and even better adored her more than life itself. It’s what she deserved, someone who put her first.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Frank lied, before truthfully confessing, “I’m sorry I wasn’t listening…I’ve been distracted lately,”

“Is something going on at work?” Erin suggested, helping to maneuver the conversation to anything else other than her missing sister.

Erin didn’t like to think about her. She was just hoping and waiting for her to come home. She was unsure how long she could keep it up but for now, that was her plan.

“No no, nothing but the usual,” Frank dismissed.

A beat of silence waved over the table.

“Her birthday is next week,” Henry added from the other end of the table, “First time she won’t be here for her birthday,”

Frank swallowed hard.

“Can we stop talking about YN like she’s dead?” Danny suggested, “There is no point in worrying about something we can’t control or know anything about,”

“She’s MIA, Danny,” Jamie reminded, frustrated.

“Exactly,” Danny statted, “Last time I checked Harvard MIA means missing not dead,”

“I know that Danny,” Jamie began, “But statistically speaking...”

“I don’t care about your fucking statistics!” Danny fired back.

“We can’t keep on avoiding the subject Danny, we need to talk about how she might be…” Jamie persisted.

“Might be what?” Danny demanded, throwing his chair back and standing up and glaring down at his younger brother.

“Dead,” Jamie shot back without thinking, standing up himself “She might be gone and we need to…”

“That’s enough,” Frank intervened, before sternly disciplining “Both of you take a walk, cool off and when you are prepared to apologize to each other you rejoin,”

They both stalked off in separate directions, slamming doors behind them. Frank took in another breath before returning silently to his meal as did everyone else.

“Sonny, why don’t you hand out dessert?” Frank suggested after a beat.

“Smells delicious,” Linda added, easing the tension.

“Thanks, it’s my Nonna’s recipe,” Sonny informed with a full smile but a distracted and flat tone.

He quickly served out the dish before offering to take the dirty dishes away as if he was trying to do anything to escape back to the kitchen.

“He’s starting to crack,” Henry commented, as soon as Sonny was out of earshot.

“Can you blame him?” Frank questioned, nodding his head in agreement, “We all are,”

PRESENT DAY

Frank decided it would be best not to probe his daughter further on the matter, as while her tone was confident her eyes failed her sentiment. He couldn’t figure them out, her eyes were lost..broken. Frank was fond of Sonny especially for Y/N so the suggestion that they weren’t together or least she believed they weren’t made him curious because if that were true he would have been able to tell. Frank liked to think that he knew Sonny quite well. Well enough to know that he would not have been able to hide if he had split up with Y/N. Frank could see how ridiculously in love he was with his daughter and that hadn’t changed over the past ten months if anything he loved her more.

But that wasn’t important right now. Even if he didn’t agree with her request to not inform Sonny of her return he decided to respect it until he could talk to her properly about it. Right now he needed to inform the rest of their family that Y/N was back and that thankfully she had come back alive...even if it was only a thread.

He excused himself, stepping outside the room to decide which of his other children he would inform first. Though while a serious decision, for him it wasn’t a hard one to make.

Erin was his first call.

It was without a doubt that you and Erin shared a unique relationship. Sure you were the only pair of sisters in the family but there was so much more to it than that. If an outsider were to observe you and your three of your siblings, it would be fair to assume that you two were the least close or as many people have commented that the only thing you shared was your face. Which was true to an extent, you and Erin were almost identical with a few differences separating you. You were both tall, tan, slender, resembling your Mother in facial structure but Erin completely resembled your Mother while you had a couple of your Father’s features. His lighter eyes, curly hair and slightly rounder face.

At the core of your relationship was unconditional love, of course, but it was different for each of you. You’d spent your whole life wanting to be like your big sister, she was twelve years older than you and she was always so grown up to you. You spent a lot of time when you were you were younger trying to catch up. To you, she had always been this unstoppable force of intelligence, beauty, and strength. She was a fantastic mother, lawyer and...sister.

Erin’s feelings towards you were much more layered. Erin loved you, sure, but it was only when your Mother died did she realize that she hadn’t always been the best big sister to you. The age gap and the fact that she became a mother herself when you were only ten fuelled it but it didn’t stop her from feeling bad. Erin very much so took up the Mother role when your Mom died as she passed when you were only a teenager while Erin, on the other hand, was nearing thirty.

Which is the reason for your interesting dynamic, you were sisters but you both often found yourself in situations in which she would very much treat you like you were Nicky’s sister and not hers.It caused tension to say the least. A balancing act between her trying to give you the same she had had with your mom but on the other hand, you were also an adult yourself now, an adult who could make her decisions and would usually prefer your older sister not to impart her opinion on how you lived your life. Erin carried the feelings towards you that many mothers carry and feel towards their children. It was very similar to the guilt and feelings of inadequacy she felt towards her actual daughter, Nicky. She constantly feared that she hadn’t done enough for you and that she could not be there for you that caused any problem that you may encounter in life. But those motherly feelings were very much balanced with her admiration for you which were rooted in her position in being your older sister.

She admired your seemingly unflappable confidence, the way you headed into any situation with determination and zeal and selflessness. She knew that you tended to put other first which was why she tried to convince you not to go on the mission in the first place. You would do anything to help people but nothing to help yourself.

Jamie was next.

Perhaps it was the fact that you two were the closest in age but everyone knew that you and Jamie were each other’s best friend. And when Joe was still around you were often dubbed the Three Musketeers, if not the three troublemakers. Despite the age difference between you guys as well it always seemed like it was you and Jamie versus your older siblings. Joe tended to fluctuate between the sides depending on the argument. But that was Joe for you, the favorite, you couldn’t love Joe.

You and Jamie talked about everything when things were bad you were each other go to. When it came to dark times he was the one that the family got to talk to you. He was the first person you told everything too. He was the only one that knew you joined the academy at eighteen. And you were the first to know that he didn’t want to become a lawyer anymore. After Sydney left him, he called you. And you spent the rest of the night eating convenient store cake and cheap beer. At some point, you also started doing karaoke, but the memoirs are sort of blur at this point, in time. And your relationship only strengthened when he was eventually assigned to the same station as you, though you technically outranked him as you were already an SVU decretive and he was just an officer.

He took you leaving the hardest and tried hard to convince you not to go but by the end accepted that this was something you felt like you needed to do. He’d missed you terribly over the past few months and hadn’t been easy wondering basically every day if he was going to lose another sibling…another best friend.

Jamie, just wanted you to be okay, in every way, which is why he liked Sonny for you, he saw from the start how much happier you were when you were with him. You and Jamie needed each other and his only wish was that he would get to see each other again.

And then of course before he called your Grandfather Henry, Linda, and the boys and Nicky.

There was Danny.

You and Danny were the most alike.

You were both impulsive with fiery personalities. Danny was more impulsive though, some say aggressive you say deeply passionate but no one could deny he was an incredible cop, one of the best. But he is an even better brother. You and Danny were close despite the fifteen-year age gap between the two of you. You guys had a special relationship with Danny. He was like your mentor, friend, brother and a second father all rolled into one. You were the baby of the family and he treated you as such.It was just different with Danny though. When you were born Danny was around fifteen years old and was going through a really tough time. He was just lost and like a lot of kids was confused about where his life was going. It was just worst because Danny’s fiery personality meant he was just getting into trouble. And then your Mom went into labor a month early and Danny was the only one there because he had been suspended from school. He drove her to the hospital after only one driving lesson and stayed with her until your Dad got there. He was the first family member besides your parents to hold you. Your Mom told you that be burst into tears at the sight of you, but Danny tends to forget that part when he tells the story.

And after that, he cleaned up his act. Joined the force and the Marines respectively when of age and got together Linda. He says that holding you for the first time made him realize that there was more to life than screwing up. Real fulfillment came from the ones you love. He said that you were so small that day and the world was so big and he just had to do his part to make it better for you. So you shared a special bond. You think that he found it easier to talk to you and tell you things because he knew that you wouldn’t judge him. And you did talk a lot. When he confessed to you about the PTSD and stuff you went to Linda and you Dad to get help for him. He was important to you and you were extremely important to him. But being so similar means that you clashed occasionally. And you most definitely clashed before you left. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone properly before you left but you left on friendly terms with everyone except Danny. The last time you saw Danny all you did was fight over the fact you were leaving. There was no convincing him, he was adamantly against you leaving. And in the moments that you feared you were going to die that was what you thought about. Would your last words to your older brother be: ‘I hate you’?

They all arrived in order except for Danny. Linda, the boys, and your Grandfather who got there way before him. You don’t think anyone was prepared for the sight of you in your current state.

Your medicine was strong and was in full swing as they started to arrive, which was needed considering the amount of pain you were in, you couldn't imagine how bad you would feel without the painkillers. It made it hard to concentrate, to be lucid, to speak but there faces when they saw you for the first time?

That was as clear as day.

“Oh my god,” Erin breathed, her briefcase falling to the ground in shock, as she saw you for the first time.

You didn’t hear her come in but you heard her reaction. You slowly turned to face her as she stood in shock watching you. You smiled and reached out for her as best you could. You didn’t even see her move, she was so fast rushing to your side.You looked up at her and met her gaze for a second. You’d never seen your sister speechless before.

“Erin,” You said simply, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” She responded, finally looking at you properly, her tone unusually calm and you could immediately tell that she was trying to play it cool.

“Hi,” you greeted simply.

“Hey,” She finally let out as if she had been holding her breath.

“Are you okay?” You asked, reaching up for her face.

“Why are you asking me that?” She whispered, helping your hand up and resting on her cheek so she could lean into it as her eyes filled with tears, “Oh Y/N, I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I’m crying and I’m trying hard not too because I want to be here for you,” She quietly sobbed clutching your hand that was on her face.

“I missed you,” You comforted

.“I missed you so much,” She smiled sadly, “I wish I could hug you. I want to squeeze some common sense into you. Never do this again,”

“I can’t go anywhere at the minute,” You teased.

Erin finally let out a genuine grin before taking a deep breath and composing herself.“Right then, I’m going to quickly find your doctor and check your insurance and treatment plan, okay?” She informed, “I’m going to handle everything. Don’t you worry,”

You tried to say something to the effect that she didn’t need to do that but she span on her heels and walked out promising to return as soon as possible. There was no point stopping her, in fact, you were almost grateful that despite the time that had passed, things between you stayed the same. You were never alone as long as Erin was around.

The grogginess meant that you don’t know how much time passed before Jamie finally trust through the door.

If you were being honest you had heard him coming, the running in his heavy boots towards your hospital room created quite a racket. Like Erin, he was shocked to see you so incapacitated, injured, broken but he recovered much quicker.

He was shaking as he slowly approached your bedside, a sharp contrast to how fast he rushed down here. From his heavy breathing, you couldn't tell if he was nervous or if he was just simply out of breath.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” He finally said, still panting.

“Just barely,” You joked before adding, “Me too,”

“I thought you were dead,” He confessed, he was composed as ever physically but his eyes were wavering.

“I would have too if I was in your position,” You agreed, “I’m sorry, Jamie. You were right.”

“That doesn’t matter because you aren’t...dead,” He dismissed quickly, still breathing heavily, “You’re still here. You’re still here. I was so worried that I…”

“What?”

“That I’d lose you too,” He let out, a stray tear falling from the corner of his eyes and rolling down his cheek which he wiped away harshly.

“Oh, Jamie,” You sighed, pulling him for a hug despite the pain the pressure caused.“I couldn't lose you too,” He cried into the nook of your neck.

“I’m here J,” You soothed, “I’m right here. I’m so so sorry,”

You stayed like that for a while. Talking quietly to each other, everyone giving you space.

Finally, Linda, your Grandfather, Nicky, and the boys all arrived. Everyone was so hesitant around you, at first they didn’t believe that you were actually here and as soon as they accepted it they were overwhelmed by your state. You’d never seen your Grandfather cry but he made you tear up when he cried out of pure joy after seeing you again. Hours passed and you slipped in and out of consciousness but every time you woke up, they were all there waiting for you. It was an amazing feeling though you couldn’t ignore the glaring absence of your oldest brother…Danny.

Many hours later the door swung open and tensed expecting Danny to be standing in the doorway.

But it wasn’t Danny.

No.

It was the person your heart was aching to see, that every fibre of your being was aching to see but your brain was telling you not see. Not to see, not to talk to, not to do anything with.

Because you thought it would hurt him too much after you’d done. It hurt you but even worse that it had hurt him too. And you couldn't bear the thought of being a cause of pain to someone you loved so much.

So it was your turn to be shocked when that door opened to reveal Sonny Carisi standing there.

The only man you’d ever truly loved.

Your ex-boyfriend. Ex-Fiancé.

And yet your heart soared when you saw him. True unbridled happiness, relief, excitement washed over you for just a moment when you locked eyes and equally drank in the sight of you in.

But that feeling was quickly replaced with the pain of knowing that because of you and your actions...

You weren’t anything to each other anymore.

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

The wind whipped you harshly as you slipped out the apartment.

2 am.

The streets of Santa Barbara empty, sleepy, safe. You walked as far away as you could until you were sure that you weren’t being followed. You clutched your coat around you tightly and after you finally walked passed two other telephone boxes you finally entered the third one you came across.

Tears had been streaming down your face as soon as you had cleared one black away from the apartment. You were shaking at this point barely able to slot in the coins or dial the number. You were so unsteady leaning against the flithy phone box as you held your breath as the phone rang in your ear.

“Hey, you’ve reached Detective Sonny Carisi. I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible,”

“Hey, Sonny…” You began, your knuckled going white as you clutched the phone desperately, unable to make your voice less shaky, you were already crying and in all honestly you didn't know when you were going to stop, “It’s me…Y/N. I know it’s been a while since we last talked and I’m sorry for that. And I’m so so sorry that I have to do this way…but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t put you through this anymore. I can’t. I love you too much. I want you to know that in case I never see you again. I want you to be happy…with someone else. I know I can’t make you happy like you deserve to be . I can’t make you happy. Not anymore, things have changed. I’m sorry. Goodbye Sonny,”

You hung up the phone as quick as you could before sinking to the ground, with an inexorable shake and sob. Clutching your knees in an attempt to hold yourself together.

You felt like you’d make the biggest mistake of your life but it was what you needed to do.

It was the right thing to do.

And God did it hurt.

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interesting-blog-name · 5 years ago

Text

Gorillaz - Demon Days Review

The concept of a band like Gorillaz was always, to me, a bit odd. A virtual band with fictional members and plot seemed a bit unnecessary to me, but I now realize it’s a nice way to set them apart from any other group. As they are not real, tailoring the story behind the band is a free canvas for Damon and whoever else works in the creative process. To insert myself into the world of this band, I chose to start with Demon Days.

The first listen I gave to this album was terrible, as I was super tired and listening to it felt like a chore. This, combined with the fact that on the second listen I enjoyed the record considerably more, has left me wondering: how much of my opinions on records are products of immediate emotions and how I feel when listening to an album, regardless of whether or not I actually like it? Can I dislike an album just because I’m angry at something else, or the other way around? Looking back at reviews I wrote just months ago, I already feel differently towards them, and this left me thinking about why I review in the first place. How do I know if I like something for myself, or because of what other people think? I honestly don’t know, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I should judge an album by what it tries to be, how well and clearly it does it, how it impacts me, and how good it sounds; keeping in mind that this is not my job, nor is it something I’m an expert on, at all, only something I do for fun.

Something else that sets the band apart is their lack of a central genre. According to Spotify’s algorithm, Gorillaz are an alternative hip hop and art pop band, and to Wikipedia, the album is alternative rock, dark pop, alternative hip hop and trip hop. While these labels somewhat fit, the band feels more like a working ground for their real-life musician counterparts, Damon, the featured rappers and singers, and the producers behind their music. Due to this, the album is somewhat hard to describe objectively, as some of the songs merge elements of whichever genre they feel like to create something new.

The title of the record describes it very well; Demon Days is an ode to the present ails the world and its inhabitants are going through, from climate change to war to personal hurt. A few detours do take place, mainly the tracks that contain features, as they tend to distance themselves from the central theme to provide fitting and surgical rapped verses. The exception to this is the fantastic verse by Booty Brown of The Pharcyde, who paints a vivid, heavy and well-crafted picture of a soldier’s day-by-day in the track Dirty Harry (“I change your whole location to a pine box six under. Impulsive, don't ask why or wonder. Orders given to me is strike and I'm thunder. With lightning-fast reflexes on constant alert from the constant hurt that seems limitless with no drop in pressure.”). On the flipside, the tracks November Has Come, with the masterful wordplay in the two verses by MF DOOM, All Alone featuring Roots Manuva’s fast but hard to understand flow, and the hit Feel Good Inc., don’t have a heavy focus on their messaging, but are still very well put-together, with the band’s instrumentation featuring the rappers perfectly, and nice vocal melodies by Damon in Feel Good Inc.’s verse and the tracks’ choruses (except for the way too rudimentary and awkwardly-delivered “all alones” on the track of the same name). The instrumental in the band’s biggest hit is very indicative of why it became a hit in the first place, you simply can never forget that bassline and everything else going on in the song.

The instrumentation goes from classic rock to synth-heavy pop, to a mixture of the two, seemingly at random. Kids with Guns, O Green World and Every Planet We Reach Is Dead seem to do this best, with the former’s natural blend of acoustic instruments and light electronic sounds, the latter’s catchy riffs, mixed with the computerized white noise underneath, an O Green World’s weird, raven-like noise and grimy guitars sections separated from the synth section, which sounds like the theme for a side-scroller. That, coupled with Damon’s lo-fi singing and the vocal harmonies on top of it, make for a great track. For the more one-sided instrumentals, Dirty Harry definitely takes the cake, getting groovier and groovier to culminate at Brown’s verse, when the strings come in over the rapping, and the bass stands out amongst it all, to create this very epic and grand moment; the only problem I have with the track is that the verse seems to be mixed a little too low.

On the opposite side of the more synthetic instrumentations, there are tracks like Last Living Souls and DARE. The former, the first song you hear in the album, is not nearly a favorite. The vocal melodies are off-putting and weirdly sequenced, they never seem to hit quite the right note, and the instrumentation is a bit too idle for comfort, as the whole track feels like it lacks solid ground; maybe the bassline isn’t as powerful as some other cuts. Apart from that, I don’t like how the song progresses into its outro, as to my ears it sounds like the band just pull out any instrument they want and clam it when the track is ending just for the hell of it, something I feel repeats, albeit more lightly, in Every Planet We Reach Is Dead’s unnecessarily long outro. Out of a sudden there’s a piano, violins, 2D is screaming in the background, it’s just not it. As for DARE, along with Feel Good Inc., I knew the song long before I decided to listen to the album, and I always considered it a fine track, one that you just can’t keep from dancing to, but in the context of the album, I can’t understand why it’s there (no pun intended). The track doesn’t really go anywhere with itself nor the album, and Shaun’s contribution is really only notable because of his infamous live performances of the song. It is a black sheep in how dark it isn’t, and I’d say it doesn’t belong.

Unfortunately, the album feels as if it loses its composure after the track All Alone, and lets go of a streak of impressively built tracks. Immediately after comes the track White Light, easily the worst in the album, with fictional bassist Murdoc whispering “White light, alcohol” over and over again, over some grunge-like distorted guitars, and a sudden heavenly intermission in the song. It isn’t something I want to hear, in short. After that is the already-mentioned DARE, and then the outro of the album commences with Fire Coming out of the Monkey’s Head, a parable narrated by actor Dennis Hopper over a hip hop influenced instrumental, at times interrupted by Damon and an acoustic guitar, delivering something of a bluegrass tone to the track. Next is the thematic sequel Don’t Get Lost in Heaven, a song I find unnecessary to the progression of the album, as the messaging is somewhat ambiguous and repeated, and the choir and angelic instrumentation isn’t impactful, or at least not as impactful as in the outro, Demon Days, where the guitars incorporate a dub sound under a much better sounding choir, delivering a positive message on how the eponymous demon days are temporary, and to look on the bright side of life, send off the album in a nice, light tone. What kills this song for me is what I think is the worst vocal performance in the album apart from Murdoc in White Light, and that is Damon’s weird, high-pitched squeals at the start of the song that are impossible to understand; if it wasn’t for them, the outro would have been almost perfect, as I think the violins work much better here than anywhere else in the album.

As far as concepts go here, the lyrics are solid. I like how personal the songwriting gets to the problems the Earth faces, on songs such as O Green World and El Mañana (“Summer don’t know me no more, he got mad, that’s all”), but it isn’t anything crazy or eye-catching. Songs like Last Living Souls don’t make a lot of sense upfront, and many times the vocals are also hard to understand; I don’t think I need to touch on White Light and DARE again. And speaking a little on the parable, I personally really like the idea of having a narrated story to close up the project, but it unfortunately gets dragged down a bit from the following tracks, and the ending of the album ends up a little bloated and uneventful.

I feel this album has a good concept backing it – even if it doesn’t stick to it as best as it could – superb guests, nice but sometimes clustered production, enjoyable vocals and song topics, but unfortunately, it gets really past its prime on the last 6 tracks, and falls hard from a streak of very enjoyable songs. I will certainly check out more of their music in the future.

FAVORITE TRACKS: Dirty Harry, O Green World, Feel Good Inc., November Has Come, Kids with Guns

LEAST FAVORITE TRACKS: White Light, Last Living Souls, Don’t Get Lost in Heaven

6.45/10

“O green world, don’t desert me now. Made of you and you of me, but where are we?”

#gorillaz #demon days #album review #album #review #alt-rock #hip-hop #dark pop #art pop #idk anymore

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ifollowfugo · 6 years ago

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hey can I request the bucci gang making their s/o feel better after a particularly shitty day at work? thank you so much !!!

Hey! I’m trying something new. It’s the same setting for all of them, because I couldn’t find six different settings for this. Sorry! And also I’m very sorry about the wait, I can’t explain how tired I’ve been lately.

***

After a difficult day at work, you made your way home slowly and effortlessly, wanting to get there but not really feeling like transporting there. You felt oversaturated, irritated, the day truly couldn’t have gone any worse. You got there around forty minutes later than usual because of your lack of will to move, opened the door, and realized your boyfriend is already there, worrying.

Bruno was sitting on the couch watching tv but not really paying attention, so the second he heard the door open he jumped to go greet you.

“Tesoro, where have you been? I was already starting to worry!”

“I’m sorry, honey. I just had the worst day and I wasn’t really feeling like moving so I just made as little effort as possible.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your day. You know what? I’m treating you tonight. What do you want to eat?”

After Bruno bought your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant, you two sat on the table to eat in comfortable silence. The atmosphere was so peaceful you could feel yourself calming down and finally start talking about your day, to which Bruno listens with all of his attention and makes some remarks on how you could avoid certain situations.

After washing the dishes you sat on the couch with him by your side and cuddled with him for a while. You felt like his arms were made specifically for you as you fit perfectly between them

“I was thinking.” Bruno let out a little time after. “I think the fact that you put up with all of that today really shows your mental strength. You should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”

Abbacchio is on the kitchen preparing some tea when he heard the door open. You made your way tiredly to his side and just sat on the table and stump your head on it. He is looking at you, you know he is, but he won’t be the one to talk first. He wants you to tell him what is on your mind. So you start talking, which turns into yelling because you are still feeling angry. He just lets you unwind. After you’re done, he spoke calmly.

“You know, you shouldn’t let things get to you like that. I understand it’s hard, but is necessary, a part of life, and we just have to suck it up.” He spoke like he doesn’t care about what you’re going through. You are already feeling like an idiot because that made you feel like you might be too sensitive. And then he continued. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be angry. embrace your anger, turn it into determination. Tomorrow you are getting there and kicking every problem on the fucking face. I know you can do it. That is one thing I adore about you, your power of will. I know you will be able to get everything you want in life and sort anything it throws at you.”

All you can do at that moment is hug him, hiding your face on his chest for a few minutes before turning to his face and kissing his lips. Both of you wanted to just stay there forever, united in a soothing silence you both enjoy.

Mista is so nervous you haven’t gotten home yet. He is standing in front of the door waiting for you to finally get there. When you do, he throws his arms around you and picks you up.

“I’ve been worried sick, babe! What happened to you?!”

“I’m sorry, Guido. I just didn’t feel like walking today and walked slower. I would have called but I was too spent to do anything.”

“What happened, baby? Tell me everything.” He said as he led you to your bedroom and then the bed.

Both of you got comfortable together on the bed and you started venting about what happened. He listened, making funny faces here and there with the intention to make you laugh. You appreciated the effort but you were still too angry to focus on anything.

“You know what you need?” Mista got up and went to get something. Came back with oils. “Massages. I’ll help you relax. I can promise you my massages are the best.”

You took off your clothes and positioned yourself on a towel on the bed, neither of you wanted to stain the sheets. Mista started working his way through you back with his hands, and they felt heavenly. He wasn’t kidding about his massages. His hands felt so good on your body, you started to feel more and calmer until you just dozed off.

After realizing this, Mista repositioned your body the way it should be on the bed and covered you with the sheets, getting in by your side and cuddling, dozing off himself.

Narancia hasn’t really noticed what time it was, he was really concentrated doing homework because Fugo had threatened him if he didn’t have it again the next day. You got into the living room and sat by his side, spying on his work to help him if he needs it. Although you offered, he wouldn’t let you help him because he wants to get it himself, and you couldn’t find neither the heart nor the energy to tell him he was really wrong.

“Is something the matter? You are really quiet today.” It warmed your heart that he noticed. You really adored this boy.

You started talking about the events of the day as you tried (and failed) to be calm. After you’re done describing some moron you had had to deal with, he looks really intensely to your eyes and asks:

“Would you like to get some ice cream? I’m up for it. It always makes me feel better after a long day.” Of course, you do.

Together, you make your way to the shop while talking about nothing important, holding hands, doing some childish stuff. Who cares? You deserved it. Narancia had a way of making you as happy as you were as a kid, and that was priceless. He made everything a thouand times more enjoyable, and you weren’t about to waste that.

Fugo was sitting on a little individual sofa, reading a book you had recommended. He heard you get inside and immediately got up to greet you. You noticed he was stretching so you guessed he had been reading for a long time. Must have had the day off.

“Hello dear, how was your day?” He greeted you with a hug and a light kiss on the cheek and he could sense your stiffness. “What’s the matter?”

You tell him about the awful day you just had and start getting frustrated over the same stuff you had been trying to forget. Luckily, you know your boyfriend experiences this kind of stuff all the time, and you trust he has an answer or at least a suggestion.

“Well, maybe there is something I can do. Feel like having a walk with me?” You didn’t, but maybe it was worth trying.

As you two walked, he looked like he knew where he was going, so maybe it wasn’t just a simple walk around the city. You arrived at a storage unit and he got a key from his pocket, and that was where your curiosity got the best of you.

“What have you got here, honey?” He looked at you and grinned from ear to ear.

“This is where I come when I can’t get the anger out. I thought maybe you could try it.” He opened the door and revealed a room filled with plates and things made out of glass, with an area with bats and safety goggles and gloves. “I come here and I break stuff to calm my nerves. It’s just so cathartic.”

You spent hours in there, just throwing plates around and hitting vases with a bat. When you felt like you didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore, you made your way home. You felt happy he shared this with you, and now you felt like you knew him better.

Back home, you sat on the couch and watched a movie enjoying each other in an embrace. He caressed your hair with the utmost delicacy and placed some light kisses on your forehead.

Giorno was making dinner by the time you arrived. If he had started so early, you knew it was going to be something special. How does he always manage to do this kind of stuff exactly when you need it? You never knew. He peeked his face over the wall that separated you.

“Amore?” He took one look at you and decided you needed a hug. He knew you so well. “What happened today? Was someone rude to you?”

You told him what had happened and you were clearly carrying so much frustration and tiredness you couldn’t continue with your day without letting it go that Giorno offered to prepare a bath and you practically begged him to do it. He chuckled at this, turned everything in the kitchen off for a while, and went to the bathroom. In the meantime, you decided to make a relaxing tea.

Sometime after, while you were sipping your tea sitting at the kitchen table, Giorno returned to tell you he was done, so you made your way to the bathroom. The sight alone was impressive, he had lit candles everywhere and rose petals floated on the water in the tub, but the smell really completed the atmosphere. It was perfect. You kissed Giorno and thanked him with a smile and got into the tub.

You enjoyed your bath while Giorno cooked, so when you got out the place smelled delicious. That man really knows how to spoil you. You got dressed comfortably and enjoyed dinner with some renewed energy and the feeling of being loved intensely.

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valiant-noble-soul · 5 years ago

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Mun, whats your opinion on FMA 03 vs FMA:B? Do you like one better? Do you like them both? I would like to hear your thoughts!

~I think they’re both wonderful shows! A lot of people like to argue on which is the ‘good’ version, but I feel like they both have their strengths and weaknesses. Allow me to break them down for you:

03 FMA

TRIUMPHS

>Better character development. This is due to the fact that the 03 series is less story-driven, so it has plenty of room for filler. This time is spent making sure every character is studied in-depth, including the villains. Backstories are explored, self-view is brought into question, and when someone has a change of heart, it’s well-earned and never feels out of place. That’s not to say that Brotherhood doesn’t have development as well, but there’s much less time dedicated to it.

>More brotherly moments. I’ll be honest guys, when it comes to shipping, I’m pretty indifferent to all of them. The one relationship that makes me squeal and hug myself is the love between Ed and Al .They’re so different in every sense of the word, but they would die for one another in a heartbeat. Neither drags the other down. It’s very clear how much the two need each other, especially in this version of the story. It’s filled with small moments of brotherly love that just makes me melt. This is something that I sadly found a little lacking in Brotherhood.

>Better soundtrack. Not that there’s anything wrong with the Brotherhood music, but wow the songs in 03 gives me chills! The tunes are so haunting, always reaching inside me and clutching my heart in a tight grip. In fact, it always brings me to last moments of the series where I spent a crushing night wondering what the hell I just watched and how was I going to survive the pain? I like Brotherhood’s music, especially with the openings and closings, but the score in 03 is the one that had the biggest emotional impact on me.

FAILS

>Unfocused plot. While it was good to see a lot of the filler being used to develop characters, I can’t say every second was used wisely. A lot of episodes were dedicated to either stretching out a situation as long as they could, or showing Ed and Al going on a random adventure. Now the latter isn’t so bad if you don’t mind waiting five episodes to get back on to the main event. Now I love watching the brothers at work, so I enjoyed the episodes, but half the time I wasn’t entirely sure what the brothers were striving for. What was the overall plot? Were we still looking for the Philosopher’s Stone? Are we going to do anything about the homunculi soon? Sometimes you just have to be really patient with this show and not everyone is going to be willing to do that.

>In hindsight, the homunculi don’t make a lot of sense. Now don’t get me wrong, I like the idea behind this version of our sinful baddies. They are what’s created when a human transmutation is attempted. They start out as ghastly figures, but after they feast on red stones, they begin to take on human forms. However, when you stop to think about it, there’s a lot of questions to this concept that needs answers. Why are they all named after sins? Are there others out there? Are you telling me human transmutation was attempted only seven times and then never again? In the entire history of alchemy? Why wasn’t Sloth....well, slothful? These are just a few of the questions that made the concept feel like it wasn’t thought out as carefully as it should have been.

>It took a nosedive on how dark it got near the end. Okay, now this one is based on personal preference. There had always been dark elements to FMA of course. It started with the Elrics bringing back their dead mother, only to have their bodies torn apart after all. But near the end....woah. Suddenly it was giving AoT a run for its money! Believe me when I say the death count was just stacking up by the end. And don’t even get me started on what happened to Rose. Like where the hell did that come from??? And to have the brothers separated at the end? Look, I didn’t know Shamballa was a thing at the time! I thought they were separated for good. I think I spent the night staring at my ceiling, wondering how I was ever going to nurse my heart back to health. It just felt like all the fun and adventure was sucked out and replaced with, quite frankly, the darkest material I’ve seen in a long time. Usually I’m cool with that, but not when it comes to my Elric bros, thank you.

Brotherhood

TRIUMPHS

>More fun characters. Funny with all the characters 03 introduced in their filler, the ones I find more enjoyable are the ones in Brotherood. Mei, Yao, Father, Selim/Pride, they were all a lot more fun to watch. Even our main cast seemed more interesting, such as Hoenheim playing a more heroic role in his departure, rather than just having him leave because his body was rotting away. While I don’t feel like many characters were covered more in-depth than in the 03 series, I do feel like the writing gave them enough material to capture our hearts and attention regardless.

>More balanced, thought-out plot. You certainly don’t have to worry about anything dragging on in this version of FMA. The plot is brilliantly thought out, starting as a simple promise between two boys, and ending with a battle against a godlike figure for the sake of the country. Plus, this version has the right balance of drama and humor, and it doesn’t forsake the other at any point either. It never becomes too silly to take seriously or too dark to find joy in. It’s a story filled with hope and strength that will leave you feeling warm all over.

FAILS

>Emotional development can sometimes be skipped/rushed. All the problems with Brotherhood can pretty much be summarized by this. Equivalent exchange, my friends. In order to give us a better-paced anime, the show had to gloss over moments that needed to have a little more time to grow. The prime example that comes to mind is during Al’s existential crises. I’ve seen three different versions of the key-point (live-action, 03, and Brotherhood), and I have to say the Brotherhood version is actually my least favorite take on it. It’s such a huge and tragic issue that needs to be explored, but the show decided to wrap it up in the span of five minutes and then never bring it up again. Not only does this rob us of a moment that should leave us reaching for our tissues, but it also removes some of Al’s development as a character.

Another scenario that comes to mind is when the brothers reach the end of their journey and Al finally retrieves his body. Am I the only one who felt like something was missing at the end there? Like, here was, back in the flesh for the first time for almost half a decade, and all we got from the brothers emotionally was...smiles? This should’ve been the most heartwarming moment of the entire series! They should’ve cried, held each other, high-fived, something! Well, as my friend @alchemic-elric once told me, by this point the story was no longer about the brothers, at least not completely. Everyone’s story was fleshed out to a point where there were many loose ends to tie up, leaving no time to put extra focus on the brothers. This is great in terms of story-telling. Not so great for my Elric bros. BROTP heart though....

I wish there was some way to combine the development of 03 with the plot structure of Brotherhood. Then I think we would have the perfect FMA. Both series have their ups and downs, but if I had to choose a favorite, I would have to go with Brotherhood. It does deliver on everything, even if it’s not always to the extent 03 does. This doesn’t mean I consider 03 a bad series. Far from it! I highly recommend it for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet, especially if you just want some time to watch your favorite characters do their own thing. Just be prepared for a darker, grittier version of the story. The ride will be beautiful, but quite painful.~

#asks #mun answers

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goddessofgamma · 6 years ago

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Extreme Lengths to Prove Loki Wrong (Ao3 link)

Summary: Annoyed by his brother's teasing, Thor tells him that he has a boyfriend. The holidays are fast approaching and Thor needs to come up with someone to be his ''partner" quick, and luckily for him, Bruce doesn't have any plans.

This was written for the lovely @ragnarokwrites who requested some ‘Fake a relationship for the holidays’ fic. I’ll write the second (and last) chapter sometime just before Christmas if all goes to plan.

It had all started with a snide comment from Loki over what was supposed to be a good-natured catch-up brunch. They had been bickering again, Loki telling Thor all about his new boyfriend (Thor thought that ‘sugar-daddy’ would be the more appropriate descriptor), and Thor holding fast to his belief that anyone who went around asking to be called ‘the Grandmaster’ was not right in the head.

“Well at least I’m not going to have to spend this Christmas alone with our parents,” Loki had said. “I might have thought that two years after Jane dumped you-“

“- She did not! It was a mutual –“

“- That you might have tricked some poor soul into dating you rather than moping around all the time.”

“I am seeing someone!” The words were out of Thor’s mouth before he could stop them, the need to prove his brother wrong stronger than his need to be truthful.

“Really?” Loki’s tone was sarcastic, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Thor tried his steadiest tone.

“Who are they, then? Go on, tell me all about my possible future in-law.”

Thor scanned his mind for friends he had who weren’t already in relationships.

“Bruce. His name’s Bruce, he’s a scientist.”

Bruce had shot to the front of his mind; they had had a conversation the day before about his plans for the holidays, and Bruce had awkwardly mentioned his lack of family to spend them with. At the time of their conversation, Thor had wished it would be possible for him to keep Bruce company over Christmas, but he knew that his family tradition and powerful parents demanded he should come back home.

“Right, a scientist.” Loki did not sound convinced. “And why haven’t I heard of him before?”

“He doesn’t like the spotlight.” That, at least, was not a lie. “If father knew about him, you know he would demand to meet him and I don’t think Bruce would be comfortable with that.”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

Thor’s head spun.

“What? No, Loki don’t tell father, he wouldn’t –“

“Whyever would I keep how happy you are from father? You know he would love to meet this ‘Bruce’ for Christmas-“

“Loki –“ Thor’s tone was warning.

“Unless, of course, he doesn’t actually exist.”

“He does!”

“You won’t mind bringing him along for Christmas then.”

Two days since that conversation and Christmas was fast approaching. Only an hour after Loki had left, Thor had gotten a commanding message from his father about how he expected to meet Thor’s new ‘suitor’, accompanied with a rather sweeter message from his mum about how she was glad he’d found someone that made him happy.

He had yet to deal with the unavoidable future backlash, avoiding Bruce’s messages and cringing every time his name came up as a notification on his phone. It would be unbearable now to tell Loki, to admit that he’d lied just to prove a point, but Thor knew that it would be more ridiculous for him to continue the act further. If Bruce found out the lie that he had told, he might get spooked, might get angry at Thor. Still, the way things were going, Thor worried he might end up insulting Bruce anyway with his lack of contact.

Braving the prospect of admitting to Bruce what he had done, Thor sent a message to Bruce asking him to come over the next day, ostensibly to arrange to buy joint Christmas presents for some of their mutual friends.

Sat awkwardly in the small space between his Christmas tree and the power socket, Thor fiddled with the plug of the fairy lights, trying to stop them from flickering fast enough to induce a seizure. The screeching tones of Merry Christmas Everybody swam down from his speakers, and every conceivable surface in his living room was covered in either tinsel or glitter.

The chime of the doorbell made Thor spring to action, trying to jump up from the ground but finding that his back was aching from all the time he’d spent sitting on the floor. Rubbing his back with his hand, he went to open the door.

“Hi, Thor,” Bruce greeted him.

“Bruce! Come in.” He motioned for him to move to the living room. “I’ve made some mulled apple juice, would you like some?”

“Mulled apple juice? Non-alcoholic?”

“No, I know you don’t partake in alcohol so I thought –“

“I’d love some, Thor.” Bruce walked into the room and looked around him, taking in the decorations. “Someone’s really gotten into the Christmas spirit.”

Thor let out a small, low chuckle.

“I do like the Christmas season, warm colours and shiny decorations, they remind me of home.”

“Back in Asgard?” Bruce checked.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “Or at least, it reminds me of the better parts of home. The palace is beautiful, all gold, with red embellishments, dazzling, with such warmth.” He thought back; there was a part of him that missed it, but the freedoms of living away from the country where everyone expected you to behave like a prince were too good for Thor to pass up on. “Although, I must say, the gold there is real, not glitter.”

Shaking his head in mild disbelief, Bruce smiled.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with a prince.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with a Nobel-winning scientist,” Thor countered. He was met with a bashful look in response.

“I’d love to go there, one day. Asgard… it’s not exactly my usual sort of place, but it always sounds amazing when you describe it.” Thor was about to respond, tell him that he could go to Asgard in a week’s time, if only he agreed to go along with Thor’s deceit, when Bruce’s attention was caught by something behind him. “Oh my god, should your lights be doing that?”

They were flashing more than ever, not just rippling, but turning on and off at an alarming rate that no one could have found enjoyable.

“Eh, no. I was trying to fix that when –“

Bruce sat on the floor by the tree, trying to figure out how to set them right.

“I think it’s just on the wrong setting.”

Nodding, Thor went to the kitchen get the apple juice from the pot he was brewing, figuring that Bruce would be occupied for the amount of time he would take. As he got out some mugs, Thor tried building up the courage to ask Bruce to pretend to be his partner, thinking about what the best way to tell him would be.

Thor walked back into a living room devoid of any flashing lights.

“You did it, wonderful! I’d been trying to sort that out for half an hour.”

Bruce smiled, almost smugly.

“I guess there are some plus sides to having a Nobel-winning friend.” He pushed himself off of the floor and sat down next to Thor at the table.

“Bruce?” Thor said the name questioningly, working his way up to ask him his real question.

“Hmm?”

“You know how you said you would like to see Asgard someday?” Bruce murmured his agreement. “Well, you may have the opportunity to do so, although I am afraid that I may not be offering the circumstances you would hope for.” Met with a puzzled look, Thor could tell he wasn’t explaining himself well. “My parents and Loki, they have been asking for two years -since I split with Jane – whether I have since moved on and started seeing anyone else. And Loki – well – Loki was taunting me and telling me all about his partner and he asked whether I was dating anyone and I told him I have a boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Bruce seemed shocked.

“No!” Thor clarified. “I told him I have a boyfriend. Except when he asked more about this imaginary boyfriend, I couldn’t come up with an imaginary person on the spot so I sort of told him you and I were dating.”

Bruce nearly laughed, which was not at all the reaction Thor had been expecting.

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t know what I look like or he’d have seen through that straight away.”

Aghast, Thor tried to correct Bruce.

“Why? You are a handsome man, Bruce, you must see that.”

“Maybe a while back, but right about now I’ve got more of the overweight, aging professor look going on, not exactly someone that a guy as hot as you would look twice at.”

Thor took Bruce’s hands in his and looked him in the eyes pointedly.

“You are truly a very good-looking man, Bruce, I would do much more than look twice at you.” Suddenly Thor felt his hands overheat. “Anyway, if Loki saw us together, he would not doubt our plausibility as a couple. In fact, I had hoped that you would meet him.”

“Meet Loki?” Bruce was even further in his confusion.

“Not just Loki, my parents and my sister as well.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well, since I told Loki that I had a partner, my family expects me to bring said partner to Asgard for Christmas.”

“And you want me to meet them and lie to them?”

“There wouldn’t be a lot of lying, more just letting them assume that aspects of our relationship are more romantic than platonic.”

“You want me to lie to the King of Asgard? Isn’t that treason?”

“No!” Thor said defensively. “Well, maybe but they wouldn’t ever know. I only see my parents in person a few times a year, you’d only have to meet them once. Then I can tell them we went our separate ways, but are still friends.”

Holding his head in his hands, Bruce looked baffled.

“What made you think that this was a good idea? Loki torments you for a few minutes and you decide a fake relationship will sort it all out?”

“Loki’s been tormenting me his whole lifetime. I thought this would be a way of getting him and my father to cool off about it a little while. And I had also thought that it would be nice for us to spend our Christmas’s the same side of the Atlantic.”

Bruce bristled at that.

“Oh right, you thought I would love to spend my Christmas not alone for once, thought I would be somehow less sad for me to be someone’s fake boyfriend than it would to spend the day alone.” Anger was slowly growing in Bruce’s voice and Thor wanted to put it right.

“I know it was selfish of me, but it wasn’t just that, I had thought it would be nice to choose who I spent the holidays with for once.”

They were quiet for a moment before Bruce responded.

“You’d choose to spend the holidays with me?”

“Yes. You put me at ease, Bruce, and apart from my mother, that’s not something I’m used to at Christmas.”

The silence roared as Thor watched Bruce’s mind whir for a moment as he decided.

“Okay. I’ll do it, so long as it’s a one-time thing and I’m not expected to buy expensive presents I can’t afford for your relatives.”

Thor beamed.

“Don’t,” Bruce objected but he was smiling too.

“I’m not doing anything! Just appreciating how fine my lovely partner is looking today.”

Bruce responded with only a shake of his head and a nervous fiddle of his glasses.

#Hope you like it!#thor #bruce banner #thorbruce #gammahammer #my fic #thunderscience #loki

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pingou7 · 6 years ago

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A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 7 is published, give it a chance !

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 7 — From Delicias, Chihuahua to Fresnillo, Zacatecas — Day 5.

Cassian, barely up to consciousness, realizes that five days in, they’re nowhere close to Bernal, way behind on their usual schedule. He gets up groggily and searches for the only pair of clean pants he has left in his suitcase, realizing that keeping him respectably clean before Bernal is soon going to cause further delay. Echoing his thoughts, Kes mutters sleepily about how he really needs to find a Laundromat today — apparently his married state left him spoiled in the domestic department.

For a few hazy minutes, neither take Jyn into account until she snorts and Cassian’s world is thrown out of its axis in a blink again. By contrast, she doesn’t seem perturbed by their presence nor bothered by her own lack of fashion choice. She has even cleaned her clothes in the sink with a bit of soap. Kes mocks her for it, but the obvious resourcefulness it shows, as slight as it is, doesn’t go unnoticed by either men.

She sends them a withering glare, but it’s not as if they’d ask her to do their laundry! The sight’s familiar that’s all: Dolores had a really big stone tank like this one, outside of her house. Before that, Mama Dameron and his had liked to use it to clean laundry too, or the boys when they were young enough to do so. His hazy impression of it was deep, and cool, and he remembers splashing around gleefully.

A vision from another time comes unbidden then, his brother in his place, giggling while himself stood guard. He’d wished for Cass to join him... but at six he had felt too old. He’d refused and Marco pouted, sulking. His stomach plummets violently at the recollection and Kes has to snap his fingers in front of him to pull him back to the present.

“Cassian? You look green, you’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

Oh, he’s sick all right, he’s alive, and the sight of a soapy sink is enough to make him lose it. Previous travels to Mexico weren’t as bad, so why is he so vulnerable, all of sudden? His weak emotional state darkens his mood and he does his best to shrug his best friend's concern away.

After all, the reason for his anxiousness rests squarely on Jyn's shoulders, he assures himself. Truth be told, it’s better pondering on her current family issues than his former ones. Kay would say it’s a pathetic attempt at avoiding his own problems, but he’s not here to shake some sense into him and Kes’ pretty indulgent that way.

She doesn't ask what prompted them to stop here, even come morning and as Cassian locks the door behind them a few minutes later, neither men fill her in. It wouldn't be important to her anyway. The vacancy of the house is obvious, yet Cassian puts the key back exactly where he found it, just in case. Someone might have use of that in the year separating them from their next stop? It'd be so nice if people were to finally fill that dormant sad place with laughter and life. All has been gone for a decade, now...

"Cass, c'mon, are you driving or shall I?"

He opts for getting behind the wheel and smacks his brother's hand away from the radio. No more sappy songs, for they have more than seven hours of driving ahead — and at that Jyn groans, declaring them insane:

"It's nonsense. You could have just bought a plane ticket and we would have gotten to your destination faster."

"Right, actually that's the plan for the return home. You're pretty judgmental for someone who imposed herself on us, girl."

"You're not imposing yourself, Jyn," Cassian denies quickly. "It's just the farewell trip of this piece of junk, and Kes wanted to dispose of it where he first got it. We wanted to enjoy the last ride."

"Well, do you?" Jyn asks with a smirk in their direction.

Kes looks at Cassian with a gleam in his eyes but he feigns innocence as he declares her company to be enjoyable in his most neutral voice. For a second here he thinks Dameron will strangle himself with laughter but he keeps his trap shut. Instead, it's Jyn who speaks again.

“For the record guys, I'm relieved to have ended up with you, despite the long driving and corny music, hitchhiking sucks.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope, I didn’t expect to tag along, at first, you know? Besides I can be traced back to some extent. People talk. I can be found.”

“Right, because traveling with cops on vacation makes so much sense when you're fleeing...”

“Less work for you in case it turns bad, but meanwhile I stay relatively safe, that’s a win-win in my book.”

"Why would things turn bad, Jyn?"

“Why wouldn't they," she bites back instantly, "everything has always soured where my father's concerned. I'm just enjoying the reprieve I get."

Her resignation ignites Cassian's fury, because she can't be so fatalistic yet, without giving herself a chance. She can’t surrender without trying to turn the odds in her favor, without a fight.

"Everyone doesn't have the luxury of having such a determined mindset. Generally I prefer to be left alone, Cassian."

"If you're so convinced your situation will explode, why bother at all then? Just hide yourself away until you're an old frightened woman."

"I've got moderate chance to reach that point if I don't hide, so keep your condescension to yourself!"

"Everyone lost something, is struggling day by day. Some just decided to do something about it."

"Hey, don't have a spat in my car," Kes intervenes in his Dad voice, rubbing his temples, "besides, Stardust, you're not alone, you've got us in your corner."

Her look is still dubious and okay, maybe Cassian handled this the wrong way, but she cannot be passive and defiant all at once. One way or another, she will have to take a stand and he doesn't mind pushing her until she does. Power above made them cross paths for a reason, and he'll be damned before he lets her go away unchanged.

She has already changed him, but how he cannot define yet.

The remaining four hours of travel pass without the sound of her voice. The Charolastras don’t feel obliged to fill the silence however so Cassian tries to shut his mind off the memories progressively leaking in his head, as the scenery passes around them. Nothing to distract him, not even their silent fugitive or Kes absently humming an ABBA song of all things...

“You’re dreadful, you know that cabrón? With the amount of stupid songs you got memorized, it’s a wonder you can function at all.”

“You like ABBA rudo.”

“Yeah right, sorry to disappoint but it’s getting on my nerves. The only time i enjoy their repertoire is when I’m drunk and you know it.”

He prays Kes won’t disclose the drunken rendition he made of Super Trooper with Alexsandr Kallus and Ahsoka Tano but he keeps his vows and stays mercifully quiet. Jyn isn’t likely bound to ensure his wellbeing however and starts to belt out “Waterloo” pretty loudly and off-key just to mess with him. Kes sniggers and joins in, like the false brother he is. Sab’s house in Fresnillo suddenly seems absurdly further away but he can’t bring himself to stay mad. When Jyn sends him an impish look in the mirror as Kes switches to “Take a chance on me” he lets a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

By the time they reach Sandro Saba’s house, the air within the car is almost cracking with restlessness. Jyn has switched places twice and stares at their smartphones with a mixture of longing and apprehension. They have already told her she could call anybody she wanted but she refused.

They park and amazingly their friend is on the porch, ready to greet them as warmly as ever. His bloodshot eyes and vacant smile, not to mention the smell that comes heavily from his clothes are obvious clues but only Jyn feels the need to point it out:

"Is he...?"

"Yep, stoned."

"And you're okay with that?"

"One, we're not working for the DEA, two we're on vacation, and three his usual recreational use does no harm to anyone. In fact, you're welcome to have some, I'm sure Saba wouldn't mind sharing. You seem a bit stressed out," Kes leers, inexplicably amused by the glare she bestows upon him.

"I'd rather stay an uptight bitch, thanks Dameron," she snaps, making Cassian snort into his beer and his brother guffaw for the whole neighborhood to hear.

"Jyn," Cassian adds more soberly, "you can relax a bit without the magic herbs, make your call and if you worry about Sab, you don’t need to fear him flapping his jaw to anyone. He has the attention span of a goldfish. I swear Poe’s more of a risk. He won’t remember you tomorrow."

“If you say so.”

“I’m sure of it. We had a pretty wild teens.”

“For cops, maybe," Jyn retorts wryly, smirking, “but I can say without a doubt that it was tame next to mine.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on it,” Kes replies with the ghost of the little punks they were audible in his voice.

Cassian wouldn’t bet either, as the bygone tastes of weed and cheap tequila invade his memory. The aftermath of Soccer matches and bar brawls tingles under his skin, too. If he squints, he could call back visions of tables with too many boisterous guests for the food prepared that day. It was a hard yet a simpler life than the solitary one he leads now.

“Do you want to go out? It’s Friday, so... I wouldn’t mind unwinding after spending hours and hours in the car.”

“I know a guy...” Sandro starts slowly, because some people never change, and somehow after mandatory calls, the three tourists end up at a party nearby.

“Want to dance,” Cassian asks Jyn a good while later, because the beat of the song currently playing calls to him.

“I’d rather not, I don’t really know how to dance Cassian. Not sober that is.”

Kes snorts at her honesty, rising his own glass in a mock salute, yet he assures: “Don’t worry, rudo here dances well enough for the two of you.”

“Indulge me,” Cassian drawls, as low and deep as he can.

He revels inwardly in Jyn’s catch of breath. Kes clearly seems to enjoy the sight as well, for he discreetly gives him a thumb up behind her. He feels like the man for a second, and the corners of Cassian’s mouth quirk into a wicked grin. He wants to give her a nudge already, but she remains self-conscious, scanning the crowd of strangers. Maybe he should retract his offer, considering how uncomfortable she is, but he really wants to dance with her.

After a few seconds of pondering, she lets him lead her to the dance floor awkwardly, but his grip is reassuring enough for her to sway to the music. She’s tense at first but he’d seen her move swiftly before and he knows she can be graceful. He gets closer still, his hand finding a proper grip on her hip — perhaps a bit lower than strictly necessary — but as he sends her a reassuring smile she relaxes in his grasp. This is no different than the intimacy they have come to share during the nights, and whether it’s the liquid courage, the music or his proximity, Jyn lets herself be led completely.

She doesn’t know the steps, but she mirrors him at the best of her ability. She’s light on her feet too, so pretty soon both enjoy themselves and she ends up giggling as he makes her spin and fall back into his arms. When the third song ends, she pleads for a break, all pink cheeks and short of breath.

“Come on Captain, you owe me a drink.”

However, when they reach the table, Kes is nowhere to be seen and he even had the decency to pay the tab. Scribbled on the receipt is a rowdy advice in Spanish and the long forgotten emblem of the Charolastras they had invented as kids.

Sometimes, cursí could really be the nicest bloke.

#RebelCaptain #fanfiction #cassian andor #jyn erso #kes dameron #modern au #roadtrip #pingou writes

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pluck-my-life · 7 years ago

Note

Hey Snark! Silenda (loverofthebirbs) here. I was wondering why exactly do you like to ship Red x Chuck x Bomb together? I know why you like the polyship itself, but why the separate ships on their own? (Red x Chuck, Red x Bomb, and Chuck x Bomb?) You got me to kinda see some appeal in Red x Stella even if I've never liked it, so I wanted to know because you give good reasons! c:

Oh hey @loverofthebirbs nice to see you! My brain self-awakened at 6 am and is now bubbling with activity, so buckle up for a ride! *stretches hands preparing to type a lot*

First of all, it’s inclusivity. I don’t want to imagine a couple snuggling on the couch while there’s a “third wheel” on the other side of it, lonely and awkward and maybe a little bitter seeing all the affection and feeling excluded. And among the three only Red understands from the get-go how PDA can be painful for the onlooker, and what would he do if he’s the one in the relationship? He’d have to persuade his partner to cuddle in private, but! the other two are insanely physical and can’t resist touching him even as friends, and in a relationship? They’d have a hand on him all the freaking time unless he explicitly states he needs to be alone. Now Bomb can exist outside a relationship just being happy for his friends, because he’s got great empathy and maaaybe he could be ace, but that leaves us with your least favorite ship? And I absolutely can’t imagine Red or Chuck being the third wheel, unless Red is totally ace and satisfied with just having friends. I can see ace!Red + Chuck/Bomb, with an effort, because I connect with him the most and I’m not ace, but then the whole thing feel kinda bland. Sweet but bland, like a cookie without filling or icing. Movie!Bomb can’t fully satisfy Chuck in a relationship, he would be left at home while Chuck goes clubbing and picking up someone for the night, and he would sigh about not being cool enough to share Chuck’s adventures (while understanding that you can’t put restrictions on him, freedom is crucial for his happiness) and Red would feel obliged to cuddle with him to make him feel better, but if Chuck sees them like that he’d want to be in that fluff pile, and that would still turn into awkward polyamory, however more dysfunctional than my usual sort. And you can’t have Red/Bomb while leaving Chuck out, you just can’t, not with his obvious crush on Red. Bomb himself would try to talk Red into giving him a chance, because Bomb can’t stand seeing his friends suffer. Chuck’s attraction to Red is the key factor here, he’d want in on any relationship Red is having, whether it’s with Bomb or Stella or both. I can ship all four, connected via Red, and as far as I remember I’ve told you in messages how Red couldn’t deal with his roommates all the time, he’d need a breather and someone he can trust, to be able to fall apart in someone’s arms (and Bomb hasn’t reached the emotional maturity yet, he can maybe nod at Red’s complaints and hug him, but Stella could actually understand, maybe even share his burden of being a self-sufficient bird with needy partners while her own friends are perfectly able to entertain themselves). Red and Stella are both leader types, but Red is introvert or at least ambivert, and these types are said to get “adopted” by extroverts (such as Stella or Chuck). I must say I’m projecting a lot here, but isn’t it the whole point of shipping? to have at least some imaginary relationships when you can’t have it irl for one reason or another? When I was in a social phase and had relationships I wasn’t in any fandoms, I didn’t even draw anything. The whole fandom thing is my substitute for love life, and tbh it’s more reliable and satisfying than 1) trying to meet people, 2) talk to them enough to decide if they’re worth meeting, 3) find out you’re not attracted to them but they kind of are, because I’m the picky side here, and the whole thing turns awkward. And this is how I find friends through Tinder, even when I’m looking for a hookup. And then I’m likely to find a therapist for them via my own therapist, because the only people I resonate with are kinda messed up. In the Bird Village it’s the other way around, Red finds mates through group therapy, but the result is the same: misfits sticking together. And here we get to another reason I’m polyshipping through the character connect to: I can’t really love myself, even on a mentally healthy day I struggle to find myself attractive - but loving a character while simultaneously connecting with him almost takes me there. And here comes the best part: I connect with other characters in my ships as well (I don’t usually ship people I can��t relate to) and then I get to feel for both parts, even for three parts on a good day, and this fills my huge emotional capacity almost to the brim while my mind is involved too, imagining stuff and supporting the connections - unlike in a real relationship, when my brain gets bored and wanders over fantasies or trivial matters even during intimate moments. I’ve never thought of it that way, but it seems like I’m polyamorous because of my neurodivergency. No person I’ve ever had experience with had a personality as multifaceted as mine, ergo I can’t be satisfied with just one person emotionally (not even talking about sex - without emotional involvement it’s plain boring). Just like another character mentioned here, though for a different reason: if I’m a very big computer, and Chuck is a very fast computer, the result is technically the same: the calculations are done quickly and we’re left idle, understimulated. I don’t fully understand my connection with Chuck, or rather I can’t pinpoint it, because… let’s just try to list it. I’m anarchist, Chaotic Good, I love to entertain people with jokes and dorky behavior when I’m in a social mood (especially when drunk), I can be very active and enthusiastic when I have the energy… A lot of my qualities that I don’t even notice because they’re so natural would remind people of Chuck rather than Red, and isn’t that ironic in light of me not initially liking the “sexy and annoying” type? Or maybe it’s just my second-hand embarrassment getting in the way of just laughing at their antics? Most of the time I lack Chuck’s confidence, especially that finding-yourself-attractive brand of confidence, but with some effort I could adopt that quality and it could make me a better-functioning person. Now if I could adopt Bomb’s ability for unconditional love I could become that fusion phoenix we’ve been talking about, maybe even a complete person… but that wouldn’t happen without gaining some femininity from Stella’s flock - good thing it comes mixed in with mischief and badassery, which make it far more palatable than the annoying “tomboy turning into a prom queen” trope that needs to get thrown in a volcano. I’m carefully exploring a straight ship through the most capable character, borrowing some of her confidence to support my weak, underdeveloped female side. I would feel fairly comfortable as Dahlia too, except it makes me self-conscious about boring people out of their minds while being bossy - not the most attractive archetype, though I’m not familiar with her enough to see her good side (gotta rewatch the Stella toons, this time with a more analytical mindset)… Gale is the one I’m most wary of: I have that selfish bitchy side to me that I prefer to keep far away from the front parts of my personality, because I’m madly scared of her - can’t let her take reins of my self-criticism… or maybe I need to befriend her first? Except that’d take a lot of work I’m not yet ready for. I could do with Poppy’s carefree attitude and Willow’s love for the process of art, not the result I can show off in the internet to earn a little bit of attention - I think those qualities can go hand in hand. Less self-consciousness, more enjoyment, and if I can’t feel encouraged and supported whether others provide it or not, maybe I should achieve that through the powers of my imagination. My brain could be a whole world of its own if I wasn’t constrained by depression, anxiety, fear of rejection… things that sound familiar, and they do play a part in connecting me to characters. If I didn’t have them I’d be out in the real world, doing… I don’t know what exactly, if making art is one of my coping mechanisms?.. Crafting, I guess? Eh, my train of thought took a wrong turn… Here is another post about my connection to characters, if you haven’t seen it.

Why are you mentioning separate ships? They all happen in the same headcanon-universe, more or less. Polyamory isn’t always threesomes, and interpersonal relationships all have their own dynamics. Two can entertain themselves while the third one is busy or not in the mood. A fourth can spice up the picture once in a while, with or without intimacy. Pairings mix in my brain like colors and flavors, add a mood and it’s a different picture every time. I’ve drawn frisky Red x Chuck and passionate too, in my drafts there are unfinished comic panels for a fluffy first time and a quirky first time (that would be AUs from each other but whatever, how exactly their intimate life starts out doesn’t matter in the long run) as well as some scenes implying that Chuck has been annoying Red to get the rough treatment for a change (more on sexual dynamics here). Some of my scenarios involve Bomb walking in on the pair and they insist that he should join, even if he’s embarrassed, because it’s definitely better for his psyche than trying to go back to whatever he was doing before he heard the noise and went to investigate. He worries and even explodes when the two upset him by bickering with each other (in the comics), how would he know the noises weren’t arguing and fighting if he’s so socially inexperienced? Again, that makes Red x Bomb first time a separate AU, but those are just scenes their eventual life doesn’t depend on, I draw them to convey moods and emotions rather than to mark an event in the birds’ life. Maybe it’s not Bomb’s first time per se, maybe it’s his first time trying to be active rather than being pleasured by his mates, and he still needs tons of encouragement because he must be so insecure about, well… everything about his appearance! He’s not a conventionally attractive bird, there’s no way he hasn’t been teased a lot growing up, even if he was home-schooled (very likely due to his condition). You’ve mentioned Chuck giving him confidence about his ability by being impressed, same way Red could make him feel attractive (Red far more likely than Chuck, ‘cos the latter is a bit of a thrill-seeker, more attracted to a snarky bird with a temper, while Red would seek solace and relaxation after dealing with the needy, sometimes insensitive little annoyance that is Chuck). Bomb is a good empathetic listener, something both of them need, but Chuck can forget whatever bothers him and move on, while Red would dwell on it until he works things out on his own or Bomb asks what’s bothering him. He might not help to resolve the issue but he can comfort Red without too much talking, platonically or intimately or both, because that’s how moods work in harmonious relationships: people can cry after sex, or cry into their lover’s shoulder until they’ve dealt with that feeling and then get horny, or they could get overcome with feelings right in the process - crying is emotional unloading, and sex is… well, you see the parallel. Watching a movie we cry during emotional climaxes. Now I’ll leave these metaphors for potential fics and conclude that Red x Bomb is the emotional aspect of the trio’s dynamics, Red x Chuck is more sexual, and understanding Chuck x Bomb requires me to further my connection to both. I haven’t incorporated Stella in their dynamics, and she may not want to have relationships with all three anyway, but this is fine in polyamory too. It’s all about balance and satisfying everyone’s needs, not the geometry of connections.

#angry birds #headcanons #polyamory #character analysis #chirpy chirp #personal #relationships #Red #Bomb #Chuck #Stella #Stella's Sorority #Red x Bomb #Red x Chuck #German Flag #Red x Stella #Chuck x Bomb

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whereareroo · 4 years ago

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THE LAW OF AVERAGE

WF THOUGHTS (4/6/21).

We're in the midst of another heavily televised criminal trial. It's happening in Minneapolis, Minnesota. This week, we started the second week of testimony. Every day, I've been watching about 30 minutes at lunch time and another hour in the late afternoon when I do some weight lifting and other exercises.

Derek Chauvin is facing criminal charges arising from the death of George Floyd. At the time of the underlying interaction, Chauvin was a Minneapolis Police Officer and Floyd was a Minneapolis resident. Chauvin restrained Floyd by cuffing his hands behind his back, putting him face down on the street, and kneeling on the back of his neck. Floyd died. Chauvin was fired. The City of Minneapolis reached a $27 million civil settlement with the Floyd family. At this trial, Chauvin is facing three criminal charges arising from Floyd's death. The gist of the charges is that Chauvin unintentionally, or negligently, killed George Floyd.

As a lawyer, I hate televised trials. Because the proceedings are on television, the public expects the lawyers to perform like the lawyers who have been portrayed by outstanding actors like Matthew McConaughey, Gregory Peck, Julianna Margulies, Joe Pesci, Tom Cruise, Calista Flockhart, Sam Waterston, Reese Witherspoon, Andy Griffith, or Raymond Burr. Inevitably, the viewing public is disappointed with the real lawyers and the general reputation of lawyers is further diminished. Lawyers have enough problems. They don't need to take extra abuse because the real-life lawyers on televised trials are mediocre.

Lawyers are no different than any other profession. The folks in the top 10% are real superstars. The folks in the next 20% are pretty good. After that, everybody is mediocre or worse. Let's face it, most people are average. That's life.

You can't make yourself into a superstar lawyer. Similarly, you can't make yourself into a superstar baseball player or a superstar musician. The underlying innate skills are a gift. To reach superstardom, those innate skills need to be enhanced with years of study, experience, experimentation, and hard work. If you don't have the underlying stuff, all the work in the world isn't going to turn you into a superstar.

Championship sports coaches are frequently asked: "How did you get this team to the top?" They all have the same answer: "By constantly competing against teams that were better than us." Doesn't that make sense? You get to the top by facing stiff competition and increasingly difficult competition. That's how you learn. That's how you mature. That's how you gain confidence. If you're a mediocre softball team and you only play against other mediocre softball teams, you're probably going to stay mediocre. To become a superstar, you have to place yourself in an environment that offers very stiff competition and you need to push yourself to the top. That's what separates the superstars from everyone else.

Now, let's apply some of these thoughts to the lawyers who are handling the Derek Chauvin trial.

The prosecution team is led by Matthew Frank. The other key team member seems to be Steve Schleicher. They could be brothers. They look alike. They're both White, they're both 50ish, and they both have "average" builds and appearances. Their mannerisms are similar.

Frank and Schleicher have another thing in common. They both went to the same law school in St. Paul, Minnesota. I looked into the history of the law school. It's a strange story. It's an amalgamation of a few very small law schools that decided to merge. The "big" players in the merger were the William Mitchell College of Law and the Hamline University School of Law. I've never heard of those law schools.

What conclusion can be drawn from the fact that these guys didn't go to a "Top 20" law school like Yale, or Stanford, or Harvard, or Columbia, or the other top names? It means that these guys weren't at the top of the applicant pool when they applied to law schools. According to the academic standards used by the top schools, these guys didn't have the brain power to become superstars. To enhance their own reputations, the top law schools want to produce superstars. They only take applicants who show superstar potential. It's just like our Olympic Training Facilities. They only take athletes that show superstar potential.

Let me give you another data point about the strange law school that trained Frank and Schleicher. (It's now called the Mitchell Hamline School of Law.) U.S. News and World Report ranks all sorts of universities and professional schools. In the most recent law school ranking, the Mitchell Hamline school ranked #141 out of a total of 197 law schools. Thus, it's in the bottom 30% of all law schools. Students at such law schools are not exposed to world class professors who stretch the minds of students. Students at such law schools aren't able to grow by competing with the top law students in the country. It's almost impossible for graduates of such law schools to overcome these initial obstacles and become superstars.

Legal education alone does not make anybody a legal superstar. The next step is experience in a competitive legal environment. That generally means a job, or a series of jobs, in a major metropolitan area where big law firms handle complex legal matters. Superstar lawyers tend to become superstars by working in the metropolitan areas surrounding places like New York City, Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Atlanta, Los Angeles, San Francisco, or Washington D.C. The Chauvin prosecutors didn't go to any of those places to get top notch legal experience. They've spent their entire careers in the Minneapolis area. I'm sure Minneapolis is a nice place. It is not a training ground for legal superstars. It's not a place where great legal minds push each other through competition, and it's not a place where there's steady diet of complex legal matters that force lawyers to constantly expand their skills.

Frank and Schleicher are totally adequate prosecutors. For the reasons set forth above, they’re not superstars. They'd probably be the first to admit that they're not superstars. The viewing public shouldn't expect them to be superstars just because they got stuck with a case that's on national television. Give them a break. They're adequate. There's nothing wrong with adequate.

What about the other guy? The defense lawyer is Eric Nelson. Guess what? Same weird law school. Same 100% Minneapolis career path. Same result. He's an adequate lawyer. He's clearly not a superstar and he'd probably admit it.

So, we have an even match here. There are mediocre lawyers all around. It's always good when there's an even match. People can't say that the outcome was the result of unequal legal talent.

As you watch the rest of this trial, you should be celebrating the fact that it's a fair legal fight. Yes, some of the questioning is disjointed and unfocused. Yes, the examinations lack punch. Yes, the lawyers are boring and they're totally unable to use theatrics to bring life to their story lines. You can't expect superstardom here. Pretend that you're watching a high school baseball game between two relatively equal teams. It's not major league baseball, but it can be an enjoyable experience if you approach the game with reasonable expectations.

It took me a few days to adapt to the mediocre lawyering. Ever since I adjusted my expectations, I'm doing fine. As I watch, I've stopped shouting an endless stream of snide remarks. These guys are doing their best. They've a product of their history. They're totally normal American lawyers. There's nothing wrong with normal. In some ways, "normal" is very comfortable. I wish both sides the best of luck. They have tough jobs. Let's hope that the Jury convicts Chauvin, and that the Judge imposes the maximum sentence.

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red-cavalier · 7 years ago

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Who is my favorite of the Christmas Cavaliers? More specifically, who is my favorite red cavalier, and who is my favorite green?

The green cavalier doesn’t always strike me in the way that the red cavalier does. Overall, I tend to prefer their counterparts, with the exception of Roderick, Stahl, Sain, and my personal favorite not-actually-a-cavalier, Forsyth.

He’s pretty simple in terms of character, but there’s enough for me to love about him regardless. I love the overzealous passion that he displays for knighthood, and the pursuit of becoming one himself. While not entirely unique, I find Forsyth to be my favorite of the “I want to be knight !” archetype common enough in Fire Emblem. Mostly because of how it conflicts with the apathy of his friend, Python, leading to some enjoyable banter between the two of them. And honestly, it’s endearing coupled with his adorable face. Not to mention how his zeal stands in the way of his understanding that not everyone takes knighthood as seriously as he does, as shown with Python. And is A support with him; I can’t describe it, really, but I like it.

His over enthusiasm concerns others, as seen in his supports with Clive. He is very into being a a warrior, prepared to pay in blood for his reckless pursuit of bring honor in the name of The Deliverance, Clive, and all that his army stands for. We also see that he is a little tense with Clive because of his admiration of him, and his lacking in belief that he could ever be such a admirable knight in spite of his talent. And he gets into spats with Python a lot, which is funny. He is also more relaxed around him...because he doesn’t consider him as honorable as Clive. Cold, but also funny.

Perhaps one of his more insightful moments is with Lukas, where he explains how foolish he was for not keeping the knowledge from his father’s books out of spite. He tries to amend that in his later years by reading, showing that he did reflect upon his nativity, and is willing to try to change. And acknowledge that both knowledge and battle prowess should be equal to him in his endeavors.

He convinces Python to join him in enlisting in the military, despite his apathy. The two are either that close, or Forsyth is quite the smooth talker.

You all know who my favorite red cavalier is; the best boy, Forde.

I’ve already gone into detail on why I like Forde. I don’t believe this is the best way I could have wrote it, but I see no point in repeating myself, despite my love for this character. Instead, I’ll write about him in relation to me.

If you asked me who the best Fire Emblem character was, I would tell you without hesitation that it was Forde. He is my second favorite Fire Emblem character, being beaten only by Colm. I’m always like this, separating my favorite character from what character I actually think is the best. Like how Demoman is my favorite TF2 character, but I think that Heavy is the best written. Or how Austria is the best Hetalia character, but my favorite is America. You get it. I can’t tell you why. I suppose one half of me sees things as a fan, and the other as a writer.

I also wanted a relatively unpopular character to serve as my mascot when i created this blog. And wouldn’t you know, that’s my boy Forde. He has his fans, yes, but goes on relatively unnoticed. This also worked in my favor when I decided to call this blog “red-cavalier” so it would be something universal to all Fire Emblem, new and old. He fits in so perfectly for me. And, honestly, my love for this character has grown quite considerably since I started this blog.

And, well...I relate to him a great deal. His relationship with Franz, and how the death of one of his parents affected him...these things hit home pretty hard. (Plus he’s an artist, too! Probably better than me, but still. The cavalier’s brush, fellas.)

#misc #I want them both in heroes #let it be done

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monleaanglaisespagnol · 4 years ago

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I Had An Affair With My Straight, Married Neighbor. Then His Wife Emailed Me.

The email came from out of the blue a few months ago. It was from the wife of a man I had been secretly involved with. “How long did your affair with my husband last?” she demanded to know. “I’d like the date range of the years, please.”

I always wondered what she knew, if anything. Why was she confronting me now? I hadn’t communicated with her husband — I’ll call him Mike — in more than five years. We live on separate coasts now.

“The least you can do is respond truthfully, given what you’ve done,” she wrote. Was she accusing me of turning her husband gay? Of breaking up their marriage?

That fiery email may have been written in haste. Still, it was years in the making. I now know that deception has a long life span and often returns to claim its guilt.

I never told anyone about my affair with her husband. Too much at stake. Not so much for me ― I was unattached, and my sexual orientation wasn’t a secret. Mike, on the other hand, was a devoted family man with two kids who I know loved his wife.

He was my next-door neighbor, and I did not seduce him, even though I was 20 years older than he was. I’m certain I was the first man he’d been intimate with, while I had, as they say, been around. Our affair wasn’t a sudden, passion-filled trip to the moon on gossamer wings. It was more like a long train ride. It started slowly and lasted some five years.

Mike wasn’t the only married man I’d been involved with. But the others were one-nighters or friends with benefits ― eager conspirators.

Mike was another story.

We were opposites in many ways: I was a magazine editor. He was a master carpenter. I liked the arts. He liked sports. I splurged on nice clothes and twice-monthly haircuts. He dressed in whatever was handy, usually cut-offs, T-shirts, Birkenstocks and a tool belt.

One night when his wife and kids were away, we went to see a movie about a giant meteor heading for Earth. He told me that he was 16 before he ever saw a movie. He had seen it on the sly because his parents were evangelicals and movies, TV, and pop music were all considered tools of the devil.

What we shared was a passion for the past. One night Mike took me to a fire station that was about to be demolished. We broke in. He wanted me to see what was going to disappear: a cast-iron farmer’s sink, a pulley for hauling ice to the second-floor window. He explained to me the building’s ingenious post and beam construction.

I once showed him a wood inlaid jewelry box that depicted a family playing cards around a kitchen table. My great-grandmother brought it from Germany. “It’s beautiful,” he told me, gently running his fingers over the different woods. “Don’t ever give it away.”

My Victorian flat always needed repair. I had no idea how to install ceiling fans or fix doorbells. Mike did. He once spent a week patiently refinishing the beadboard in my kitchen. He made the century-old wood glisten like new using only sandpaper and baby oil.

We were friends for several years before becoming lovers.

With his wavy black hair, cobalt eyes and droopy eyelashes, Mike had no idea how sexy he was, or could be. Yet his lack of vanity only enhanced his allure. I once stuffed him into my tuxedo when his wife insisted he accompany her to her workplace’s black-tie event. Put a martini in his hand and he could have been James Bond.

Mike would drop by my place after his wife and kids were in bed. We would watch baseball games, make popcorn. Sometimes we’d share a joint, which deepened our enjoyment of “Antiques Roadshow.”

I agreed to let Mike set up his saws and tools in my attic after he told me he couldn’t afford to rent a workshop. That meant seeing him at all hours.

There were signs, some blatant, that he was struggling with his sexuality. Like the time he told me he had gone on a porn site to see how gay men “do it.” He confided to me that when he was in college, he had been attracted to another male student but didn’t act on it.

It usually took a few beers for him to start opening up.

A mutual hug in my attic one afternoon changed everything.

Even after our relationship became physical, it took months for Mike to feel comfortable kissing. I’ve known couples, gay and straight, who were in open relationships. Many made a pact that they could mess around with others as long as they didn’t kiss. Sex can be a purely tactile, pleasurable experience. But kissing is up close and personal.

My nights were as free as his. I was in my 50s and I had outgrown discos and late-night bars. There was no Grindr back then. Craigslist was in its infancy. I could no longer bear meeting faceless strangers from newspaper ads.

I didn’t know Mike’s wife well, despite our being neighbors. She wasn’t the social type. Books, cats and gardening were her pleasures.

“What if she finds out about us?” I asked Mike.

I’ve been cheated on in several relationships, so I know how it feels.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s not a confrontational person,” he said. “The other night, she told me she was tired and suggested I go hang out with my butt buddy.”

“What did she mean by that?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied.

I was, or so I thought. I figured that on some level, she was OK with this good-neighbor policy. That helped ease my conscience.

Besides, I wasn’t out to steal her husband, even though same-sex marriage did become legal in our state in 2004.

I wasn’t being completely honest when I said I never told anyone about Mike and me. My downstairs neighbor, who I had become close friends with over the years, figured it out. She could hear Mike’s footsteps coming and going on the stairwell, the squeak of bedsprings. “Mike’s a good person,” she told me. “You’re helping him become his true self. You should feel no guilt.”

I’ve never had children or wanted them. Mike’s, however, were a joy to be with. I worked from home, so it was easy for me to babysit them on school breaks and summer vacations. I’d take them to their swim lessons. We’d go bowling, miniature golfing. They introduced me to “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Mike was always struggling to make ends meet. Yet not having money didn’t matter when it came to his boys. He gave them something dollars can’t buy: his time and attention. He once spent a day with them riding the subway lines. He got them memberships to a science museum. He taught them to Rollerblade and play hockey. I would go with them on weekend hikes. I would bring my dog and lunch. His wife never wanted to go along.

I lent Mike and his wife a down payment to buy a house. It felt good to do something positive for his family. His wife worked out a payment plan, which she stuck to. Mike converted the basement of his new digs to a workshop. Despite living in a different neighborhood, he still came by.

I can’t give a precise date when it all came crashing down. All I know is there were no more late-night visits, trips to Home Depot or those delicious foot rubs that he voluntarily gave. Mike simply disappeared without a goodbye. My phone calls went unanswered. He blocked me on Facebook. We never argued, so it wasn’t as if he stormed off in a huff.

Desperate for an answer, I bravely — and foolishly — called his wife. “What’s going on with Mike?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” she said. “He never mentions you.”

Our train ride had come to its final station.

I had to take an honest look at myself. What I needed was a real boyfriend, one who I could go to the theater with. Or to restaurants. One who wouldn’t leave me waiting for him to come by on a Saturday night, only not to show up. One who I could tell my friends and co-workers about.

One who was available.

Then one afternoon, four years later, I saw Mike. I was taking my dog for a walk, cutting through a baseball field that abuts a wooded area. He was lobbing softballs over home plate to his boys. Seeing me, he trotted over to where I was. He took off his Red Sox cap. “I’m getting a little gray,” he said. I said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking my hand. “Really sorry.”

“C’mon, dad,” his boys yelled, and with that, Mike jogged back to the pitcher’s mound.

I finally had my explanation. His boys were becoming young men, old enough to ask questions and figure things out.

I should have foreseen this scenario. During the 1990s I lived in the Deep South. The steam room and sauna at my local Y served as a kind of after-work social club for men who were gay ― and for those who had wives and kids.

I would sometimes ask these men why they got married. “I wanted a family. I wanted children” was the usual reply. I asked one devoted father why he stayed in the South when he could have moved to a blue state. “I couldn’t live more than a few miles from my mama and daddy,” he said.

I knew a gay impresario when I lived in San Francisco in the 1980s. One night he threw a dinner party for his gay circle of friends at Trader Vic’s. Over tropical cocktails, he announced that he had just gotten engaged to a divorcée with two girls. “I’m going to have a family now, “ he told the table. “I can no longer see any of you again.”

I didn’t respond to Mike’s wife’s angry email. I figured that was Mike’s job, since he’s the one who came out to her and told her about us. He knew the dates of our affair as well as I did.

But I did need to know what was up. So I nervously texted him. We hadn’t communicated since that day on the baseball field.

“We’re going through a nasty divorce,” Mike texted back. “I decided to finally be honest with myself. I needed to be who I am. I told her about us. She blames you for everything. She wanted to know how many men I’d been with. I said there was only you, and that’s the truth.”

“Every time I pass by your place, I think of you,” he wrote. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied.

“Do your boys know?” I asked. They would be young men now.

“I told them. They were fine with it.”

“You were a great father to them,” I told him.

“Now you’ve got me all teared up,” he replied.

Mike volunteered that he was in therapy. He said he had joined a bisexual men’s support group. He met a man there, he said, whom he found attractive and who had asked him out.

I felt a twinge of sadness. I didn’t tell Mike that. Instead, I wished him all the best in his new life, and I meant it.

I had a new life too. I had sold my place and moved to the California desert, where I knew no one. A few weeks after buying a small condo, I went to a paint store to check out color samples. A younger salesman waited on me. He looked to be in his early 40s.

I could see there was a gold band on his ring finger.

He intercepted me in the parking lot as I was heading toward my car. He handed me a piece of yellow paper that he had hastily scribbled his cellphone number on. “If you ever need anything, just call,” he said. “And I mean anything.”

“You’re married,” I said. He shrugged his shoulders.

Nights can be lonely. His invitation was tempting.

I took the piece of paper out of my pocket, wadded it up and deposited it in the nearest trash bin.

John Stark is a veteran journalist and editor who has had staff positions on the San Francisco Examiner/Chronicle, People magazine, Cooking Light magazine, Martha Stewart’s Body + Soul, Cooks Illustrated and Walking magazine. His freelance stories have appeared in such publications as The New York Times, Newsday, AARP magazine and The Boston Globe. He was a founding editor of PBS’ “Next Avenue” website for boomers, where for three years he wrote weekly blogs and features, and continues to write for the site. He holds a master’s in journalism from Boston University and is a licensed Realtor. He currently lives in Palm Springs, California, where he is retired but writes freelance stories. For more info, visit JohnRStark.net.

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peopleareleaving · 4 years ago

Text

a secret garden for dreaming

It started with a small tree she’d bought at the nursery.

“You’ll need to re-pot it,” warned the nursery hand, “or it won’t grow.”

She looked at the small tree and tried to imagine it as an adult, as a fully formed, wild tree, a towering Californian Redwood, plugged into the earth’s core.

“But it’s okay to keep inside, right?”

“Yes. It’s an indoor plant.”

She re-imagined the tree now, living inside, with her, growing and extending its branches onto the arm rest of the sofa, in front of the fridge, into the bedroom door. I’m going to need a bigger pot, she thought.

She made her way to the appropriate area of the nursery and made her selection; the biggest pot she could find, jade-coloured and polished to a shined finish. Next she bought potting mix, and a small potting-spade, and finally some ‘dynamic lifter’, something the nursery hand had recommended.

“It’s a fertilizer,” he explained, “it helps create a better exchange between tree and it’s environment – so the plant can better take in the nutrients it needs to prosper.”

“It smells,” she said, “but if it helps my small tree…”

The nursery hand said nothing and helped her carry the large jade pot to her car.

At home she re-potted the tree into its new vessel, first pouring a little of the potting mix into the base of the jade pot and mixing in some water. She then dislodged the small tree from its old pot and shook the roots free, careful to place it in the centre of its new pot before filling the remaining space with more soil. She watered the tree, smoothed the potting mix to an even finish, and stood back to admire the small tree – and her handy work – before taking it to its new home.

But was the tree already in its own home, she thought, like a hermit crab that had found a larger shell? Did the tree know the difference? Would its roots, turned back upon themselves by the borders of its previous, smaller pot, eventually find the walls here too, and know it was merely in a larger prison? Or was this the optimal life for a tree; not stuck in the same stretch of nature strip, or backyard, or centre-road traffic island for all its life, but movable – rooted in contained but fertile soil, with the potential to look out upon any number of vistas? She looked at the small tree again, trying to figure out what she would prefer as a tree, and then placed it in an alcove where the back door landing area met the hallway. She stood back and surveyed the tree in its new surroundings, weighing the potential inner life of the tree, the nursery hand’s instructions and the overall feel it gave her apartment. Soft natural came through a high window and reflected off the white walls, and when the back door was opened the tree would feel the breeze rush in. It was a fine place for a small tree, she thought. The front doorbell rang. A friend, who was coming over to make spaghetti and drink wine, had arrived early.

“I hope you’re happy here,” she said to the tree, and left.

The friend had brought over a surprisingly nice bottle of Argentinian Malbec, and after the spaghetti, somewhere near the bottom of the bottle the girl had remembered her new, small tree.

“I bought a plant today,” she told her friend, “a small tree.”

“Like a fern?”

“No, a small tree,” she repeated, “I’ll show you.”

They both picked up their wine glasses and for some reason tiptoed down the hallway. The girl came to a stop in front of the tree, her friend at her side.

“It’s a little scrawny,” said the friend.

“I told you, it was a small tree.”

“And what about spiders and bugs and all that stuff, doesn’t that bother you, having it inside?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” said the girl. They stood there for a moment before the friend turned back for the kitchen, and more wine.

“I don’t think you’re scrawny,” the girl said, “I think you’re a perfectly okay, small tree.”

They two friends left the dishes in the sink and opened a second bottle of wine. They stayed up late, drinking and talking about their work, and what books they were reading, and the usual stuff old friends talk about. All in all, it was a generally enjoyable evening. But the girl kept thinking about the small tree, and her friend’s dismissal of it. They were different people when it came to trees. Buying a tree was like buying a piece of art, she decided, and she got a secret thrill out of having the tree just down the hallway, knowing it was alive and wild and growing. She imagined having an apartment full of them; an indoor jungle of small trees and vines and fallen leaves. She imagined the light scratch the branches might make as she brushed against them on her way to the kitchen, and the smell of damp earth as she laid with her eyes closed, the trees breathing in what she breathed out.

The girl woke in the morning, a little later than usual, and felt slightly lightheaded. She floated out past the kitchen, and the sink full of dirty dishes, and went to check on the small tree. Her eyes were drawn to the large jade pot. Something looked off. It was cracked. She was sure it had been completely fine when she bought it.

“Goddamn it,” she said, and kneeled down to inspect the crack, which ran the full range of the pot, from top to bottom.

“What have you done, small tree?” she asked. But the tree gave no clues. It just sat there, perfectly innocent. She ran her index finger slowly along the length of the crack, trying to sense a beginning, or an end. The further she ran her finger along the seam, however, the more pronounced the crack felt, and the more she looked at it the more uniform it appeared. In fact, the crack ran perfectly vertically. She turned the jade pot slightly, and discovered the crack curved and turned 90 degrees, curved again, and ran perpendicular back down to the floor. She ran the fingers of both hands around this edge, feeling for some explanation – how had she not noticed this yesterday, she thought? She traced the outline again and applied the slightest amount of pressure to the whole of the cut-out which clicked, released and then gave way, sliding inwards, somehow absorbed into the base of the small tree, revealing a bottomless darkness.

The girl stared into the secret doorway, transfixed, her two hands gripping the opening involuntarily. Sensing this, she relaxed her grip and gently offered her hands to the void. Slowly, her hands were enveloped by the plants roots. The thin, membrane like roots crawled out and spread through her fingers, over the back of her hands and around her wrists, forming a firm bond. It was reaching out and steadily, but tenderly, taking hold of her, the way a parent would ensure a good grip before lifting a child. Slowly the small tree began to draw her in.

This girl gave no resistance to this most peculiar occurrence. Instead of screaming, or trying to free her hands, she found herself in a state of calm acceptance. As if this was as normal as sliding the shower curtain closed, or changing the television channel. She closed her eyes and let the small tree gradually carry her through the threshold; hands, wrists, head, shoulders, waist, and finally her bare, wriggling toes.

She slowly slid though the doorway, and a coldness swept through her, one she could not assign to a particular place in her body nor could she locate a direction or source from which it was coming. She couldn’t place the feeling at all. It’s as if I’ve been dipped in dry ice, she thought. She also experienced an all-enveloping silence, free of everything except the small pulse of her own heart, felt, rather than heard, in her inner ear. Is that really my pulse, she thought, maybe I’m just imagining it, maybe I am imaging this whole thing – maybe I am still in bed, full of spaghetti and red wine. Open your eyes, she thought.

The girl realised she was no longer cold, and that things were no longer silent. She could hear a serene purr, like a nearby ocean; the sound of the earth itself turning. She opened her eyes and found herself in a lush garden, surrounded by ivy and banksia and a slow running stream. Tropical fronds were separated by flowers she’d never seen before and ferns that didn’t have names. Her body felt weightless, at perfect temperature – one could say temperature-less – and her mind fell perfectly to ease. Above her, blocking out patches of perfect blue sky, were the branches of a grand tree reaching up and out of sight, bending and offering her the exact right amount of shade, protection, and seclusion. This, she knew immediately, was her small tree.

Suddenly the girl felt sleepy as if she hadn’t been to bed at all the night before. But where am I, she thought, where is this? Yet, try as she might to stay awake, her eyes involuntarily closed, and she fell into a deep sleep.

She dreamed she was a criminal, on the run from the authorities, and looking for places to hide out. She visited friends and loved ones but no-one seemed sure about helping her. Their reasons were more to do with practicality, however, rather than any moral objection to assisting a criminal on the lam.

“I don’t really have the room,” a good friend told her, “and plus with the dog inside, it’s not very comfortable for visitors.”

“It’s just not a good time,” said her brother, “you know, with the kids.”

And so it went. Everyone seemed perfectly reasonable – some even expressed their wish to help – but ultimately unable to assist. The girl didn’t feel the least bit resentful, and although she was unsure as to what her crime was, she didn’t feel guilty either. She just went from person to person being politely but clearly turned down, and politely and understandingly moving on. Strangely enough, with each passing person and their lack of help, the girl began to feel better about her situation. In fact, the more people who wouldn’t help her the better she felt. Eventually she gave up trying to find places to lay low and realised that the police weren’t chasing her at all. Dreams sometimes worked backwards, she thought.

The girl lifted her head and reluctantly opened her eyes. She lifted herself off the timber floor of the hallway and looked down at the small tree. Those dirty dishes aren’t going to wash themselves, she thought.

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