#WRONG SOMETHINGS THERE ITS JUST NEVER GOING TO BE A SAFE TIME TO ACTUALLY BROACH ANY OF IT I JUS NEED TO STFU AND KEEP SHOVING IT DOWN

[fuckthisshxt]

Why? Why the tears? That's one damn thing thats actually visible to others when it happens and I can't deny it.

Any time I see something about ghosts or (damnit I know there's been at least one or two other subjects but I can't remember atm I'll edit this later if I remember) tears start falling. Like I'm not sobbing or actively crying at all, I personally don't even feel sad or scared but tears will be falling from my eyes like someone turned on a faucet and it feels stupid to admit to but it's like part of me knows that during those times a tiny part of me is like terrified? Even though every time this has happened that I can remember I always felt perfectly fine and knew I was safe and that what I was watchin was just a show but idk this problem has been happening for at least a decade now

[rxttenfish]

PLEASE tell us more about virina mishra im such a sucker for nextgens

OOPS FUCK I GOT DISTRACTED AGAIN AND FORGOR TO ANSWER THIS

virina!!! my beloved virina!!!! littlest froggy!!!

aaravi and miranda very much both wanted to actually, you know, have a family. its one of those things where you come from someplace so shitty and so terrible, that you just cannot imagine someone else going through that same thing, and you cannot bear the thought of making someone else go through the same thing. to be fair, they are both TERRIFIED of just repeating the past and ending up in the exact same loop that their parents did, terrified of just heaving back on the same generational trauma and wreck of a childhood, but there comes a point in being afraid of something where you just need to get rid of this fear. its too constant, its too forever, its too eternal. sitting through it and avoiding it isn't making it go away, and they already fucked up avoiding it by finding each other and loving each other, so dancing around the issue isn't helping. instead, what they mutually land on is just... a want to prove that fear wrong. a want to prove that fear wrong, to prove that they aren't doomed to be just a weapon and just a source of death in all its forms, that they can hold something in their hands and make it grow. best way to avoid repeating the past is to take responsibility by the leash, after all. they want to go back in time, to give themselves the childhood that they always missed, and the best way they figured to do that is to give that to someone else.

this is something that very much existed since their relationship started to get serious with each other, and something that's been in the background the entire time since, so its not like its a mystery or anything. if anything, they've been using this want as a motivation, as a need to keep going even at the worst of times. they will have this happy future. they will make it through this together. they will make it work. no more ifs, no more buts, no more doubt. stop living in the doubt and start acting as though their happy end is a foregone conclusion and something that they are going to have no matter what, give no room for fear or guilt or shame or depression or self hatred to sneak in. they will be happy. they will make someone else happy. they will be someplace safe, not just for themselves, but for their loved ones too. they will be good. they will be.

even after everything blows over (mainly from miranda's family, she is still crown princess and stepping away from that was never going to be an option they gave her), it still takes a few years for them to broach the topic of having a kid for-real. just to make sure everything's settled. just to make sure everything's safe.

they have virina later in life than some of their other friends or just in general, but they were planned and wanted for so long that the wait is worth it. the name, as i've mentioned, comes from aaravi. she knows her mom was a... complicated woman, she knows her own raising wasn't perfect and that there were things that she still cant fully forgive her mother for, but she had a hard life too. she too deserved better. despite it all, aaravi still loves her mom, despite despite despite. and so she does the best thing that she can to honor her mom, to honor her memory, to give her the life that she never had the same as aaravi herself, and gives it to virina. the mishra last name was a no-brainer already, miranda already look aaravi's last name and preferred being a mishra over a vanderbilt anyday.

years later, virina also earns the nickname of "froggy" - primarily because of their own love for the animal, constantly finding them and bringing them in from outside. likewise, miranda and aaravi decide to raise them genderless, and to let them decide for themselves how they want to be referred to when they're older.

virina doesn't really take much after either of their moms, though. mostly they're quiet, shy, keep to themselves. where both of their moms are brash and dominant, very confident in themselves and willing to bowl over quieter personalities, virina seldom speaks, and when they do, its soft-spoken. they get easily spooked and cry easily, especially when it comes to other people. they cling to their moms legs, hide behind them when other people come around, prefer the company of animals over other people, tend not to like new things or new people and greatly prefer sticking to their simple, easy routine. they just can't figure out other people, seemingly, not understanding them or how to make friends or even what's appropriate or not to say in a conversation.

this isn't to say they aren't deeply intelligent and curious. they quickly learn to love venturing outside with their moms, playing in the garden or chasing bugs and frogs. they come in with sticks and rocks, make mud potions, try to build things out of sticks and befriend birds. they prefer books over people, ending up much more of a bookworm than either of their moms ever were, and ends up a very big nerd as they get older. theyre close and affectionate with the friends they do make, but this is a small handful of their very most trusted, and they never get much better at figuring out social norms.

in time, they lean a little bit more towards the femme side of things, growing their hair out long and liking long, swishy skirts that they can spin and sway over and over, that doesnt cling too tight to their legs. they end up needing glasses, and end up picking a pair thats large and circular, making their eyes seem all the more owlish. they settle on they/she, but never have particularly strong opinions about gender regardless. they can be blunt and quick to frustration, especially if they feel people arent understanding them, and are forever going to be deeply embarrassed over how their moms dote on them. i very much see them getting intensely interested and starting to study either linguistics, literature, history, geology, or any biology that takes them closer to the marshes and wetlands that they love.

they never think very much about how one of their moms used to be a princess, heir to a kingdom. beyond an instance as a kid that ended with them dropping a training sword repeatedly and crying, they never get very interested in following the slayer line of work. they fuss over small stakes, have their moms grate on them sometimes in both of their old ways, and they live a normal life.

[bigskydreaming]

I am looking (disrespectfully) at the trope of Bruce and other family members only seeming to respect Dick’s wishes when doing so aligns with what they already wanted to do.

Let’s go to the examples!

1) Bruce not broaching adoption with Dick because he wants to respect Dick’s first parents and feels like he would be taking their place or overstepping or putting himself in between Dick and his memories of his parents. Sometimes its cited that Dick himself expressed this wish early on after his parents died, sometimes its not and this is still just upheld as Bruce’s reasoning for not adopting Dick before he was already well into adulthood.

THE FATAL FLAW (in mine own personal opinion, natch. Personal mileage may vary, check your speedometer to be safe):

This particular plot point or tangle is in my experience ALWAYS paired with Bruce’s own insecurities about his role in Dick’s life, or not wanting to push that or receive an answer he doesn’t want to or is afraid to hear. Sometimes its about his fears of unworthiness to be Dick’s actual parent, etc, etc. But the bottom line is, there is always the presence of SOME element (and not a small one) in which Bruce’s own self-interest or feelings are protected by him NOT broaching the adoption conversation with Dick and having to confront these fears head on.

This is additionally juxtaposed with the problem that although there’s a lot of variance in regards to stories where Bruce fired Dick versus stories where Dick gave up being Robin and moved on to Nightwing voluntarily....there’s NOT a lot of stories where Dick makes Jason Robin himself or is asked by Bruce first. The part where Bruce takes this initiative on his own, without thinking through its repercussions on Dick emotionally.....this is practically always present.

Now, the problem here is that......Dick became or began becoming Robin well into his time with Bruce. Its frequently cited as the thing that began allowing them to truly connect, their time training and acting as Batman and Robin.

Meaning no matter WHAT interpretation you go with as to why specifically Dick chose the name Robin, whether it was a family nickname or an homage to Robin Hood.....the fact remains, NOTHING of Robin, THEMATICALLY, nothing that spoke to Dick in regards to what he wanted Robin to be - specifically in honor of his parents because avenging his parents and making sure what happened to them didn’t happen to others like, this was literally a key part of what bonded Dick and Bruce, the fact that Bruce was TRYING to help Dick specifically BECAUSE they shared this particular overlap of purpose - like the bottom line is, nothing about Robin CAME from Bruce. Or Dick’s feelings about Bruce. That....didn’t really even exist yet, at the time he created Robin. Everything about Robin, other than the physical costume itself, not even the design just the actual creation of it....all of that came from BEFORE he met Bruce. None of it was thoughts or feelings derived from BRUCE. Its the whole reason Dick was never Batkid or Batlad, or any derivative of Batman.

It all, ALL came from what Dick came to the manor WITH. Remnants of his life with his first family.

So the fatal flaw of Bruce’s reasoning that by not broaching the subject of adoption with Dick before well into adulthood, he was actually just respecting Dick’s relationship with his first parents and not trying to come between them and Dick’s memories and feelings about them....

All of this is inherently undermined by Bruce’s own actions.....when by repurposing Robin to ANY degree, even just to give the mantle to Jason.....this meant that he was inherently viewing Robin as being more about being Batman’s partner, HIS partner....then it was about being Dick’s heritage, his last intangible keepsake of his first family and life BEFORE Bruce.

In effect....Bruce making Jason Robin or firing Dick as Robin, either way....both betray Bruce’s OWN alleged intentions for only wanting to respect Dick’s relationship with his parents, and that being why he didn’t want to overstep by trying to impose or even ask for his own official parent/child relationship with Dick. Because that’s exactly what appropriating the Robin mantle was. It was Bruce ignoring the relationship Dick had with his parents and their memory and the fact that Robin was directly born of that....and making Robin entirely about Bruce’s OWN relationship with Dick, heedless of any other factors.

And the second Bruce did that.....his entire justification for not raising the adoption issue....disappears. It goes away. Because you can’t claim inaction being just a result of not wanting to disrespect something you’ve already voided respect for. No matter whether Bruce INTENDED it or not.....by crossing this boundary, Bruce already acted against Dick’s feelings in this regard and well, disregarded them....which makes claims of Bruce not raising the adoption issue pretty much JUST self-serving at that point. Its an alleged viewpoint of Dick’s that Bruce largely just ASSUMES....and only ultimately respects - in direct contrast to how he didn’t respect the associations Dick had with Robin - because it aligns with something Bruce ALREADY wanted to do, rather than what Dick actually wanted. It provided justification for Bruce to just....not have a conversation he was afraid to have. And that’s about Bruce at that point. Its not about Dick. Its just like...not.

2) Another example of this that is not unique to just Bruce, but recurs frequently in both canon and fanfics in Dick’s dynamics with other characters he’s close with.....is characters not apologizing for things they’ve done to Dick or raising the issue of things they did a long time ago but never apologized for....while claiming to do so because they thought DICK didn’t want to talk about it.

THE FATAL FLAW (in my own personal opinion. Nuances and variations may not be identical at all store locations, please see your local branch for details):

The particular problem I have here is that....Dick never ever ever in the history of ever and also the before ever time.....has EVER expressed a desire to avoid confrontation.

Like. That’s what he DOES. That’s his JAM. That’s literally CITED time and time again as one of the reasons he’s viewed as more of a people person and natural team leader than Bruce and other Batfam members....because he’s not afraid to cut straight (or bi) to the heart of the matter and air out a dispute.

In fact, this very character trait is one of the ones most commonly utilized AGAINST Dick in various depictions of him, as he’s often cited as TOO confrontational, TOO eager for a fight or conflict especially when his temper is engaged, such as when he’s well....personally hurt or offended.

So how does it follow, then, that avoiding tough conversations ONLY when its on the OTHER person to INITIATE, because they were the ones who DID the wrong-doing and Dick the subject of that rather than the instigator....how does it work, exactly, that these are the only times in which we DON’T tend to see a direct conversation about the harms done and the fallout that resulted? With it being claimed that this is solely for Dick’s benefit, out of a desire to avoid pulling him into an allegedly unnecessary (but really just unpleasant) confrontation?

When the concurrent reality is that whether stated or acknowledged or not.....avoiding these specific conversations and ONLY these conversations (as there never seems to be a problem finding canon or fanfic stories in which Dick apologizes for harm HE’S caused to others or is clearly expected to).....this avoidance also carries the side benefit of allowing the character who DID something wrong to Dick to....not ever have to have that super uncomfortable conversation in which they actually verbally acknowledge the thing they did to him and the effects it had on him, and apologize for that.....and then render themselves vulnerable to actually hearing whether or not he accepts their apology or is still upset with them regardless.

While - as long as they DON’T ever have this conversation, for whatever reason - they can look to the clear and consistent precedent of Dick continuing to work with people who have done things like oh, I don’t know....punched him in the face cuz they’re mad at him (and this isn’t a Bruce critical point, this is a whole damn family critical point as the only one who HASN’T actually done this is Duke. Well, Cass technically just threw him out a window, but I mean, tomato toh-mah-to). Writers and characters both can lean on the fact that actually Dick has a pretty clear track record of ultimately giving up a grudge or at least showing a willingness to look past those grudges enough that it doesn’t prevent him from still maintaining or resuming some kind of relationship with the person who hurt him.

And thus, like Example Numero Uno......this ultimately just lets other characters off the hook while claiming to do Dick a favor, but actually Dick receives no real benefit from it and instead now just has another instance of characters saying “see we respect your wishes” when ultimately their inaction is MORE in service to their own wishes and self-interests.

2b) See also the variation of this in which characters such as Bruce, Jason, Tim and assorted others like....are written specifically determining that they’re not going to apologize to Dick or beg his forgiveness because they feel they don’t DESERVE to be forgiven, and once again....its in HIS best interests that they not even give him the opportunity to say he forgives them....because they know Dick Grayson of course, and they know he’s too forgiving for his own good, so its better to like....not make it ever a possibility in this particular instance.

With the problem here being like.....Dick can’t and shouldn’t be expected to KNOW that’s their logic? So....all he’s going to actually SEE is loved ones just....not expressing remorse for hurting him or acknowledgment it even happened? Which....hurts?

So......hurting your loved one MORE after already hurting them....because you don’t feel you deserve to be forgiven for hurting them in the first place and are actually PROTECTING them from being hurt more when mistakenly forgiving you.....by.....hurting and continuing to hurt them with your silence and lack of evident remorse....

Mmmm.....

Its not the best approach, y’know?

Flaws are detected.

3) Dick’s friends and family manipulating situations in order to get the end result THEY desire, while claiming to do so for his benefit only. Dick being willing to manipulate people to achieve his own ends comes up a LOT actually....but there’s relatively little examination of how often people do this to him, claiming his best interests but really just circumventing his clearly stated desires for independence and the right to make his own choices about what HE needs....or when this is brought up, its usually limited to JUST Bruce doing it, but uh....no that ain’t it.

Specific examples of this are like when Wally joins the 1999 version of the Titans specifically to get Dick to join up, because in his estimation Dick needs more of a social life and is drowning himself with his responsibilities....and then quits not long after Dick is finally officially invested in staying with the team. Another example is when Roy gets Dick to join the Outsiders based entirely on his pitch of NOT treating the team like a family, like they did with the Titans, so that Dick could keep emotional distance and not be as worried about losing them like he suffered from losses like Donna....with his claim again being that he worried about Dick in the aftermath of that loss, etc.

And to be clear! Its not that I think Wally and Roy and others who do similar things have NEGATIVE intentions in mind for Dick. That’s the whole point of this post.....like the other examples, I fully believe THEY believe (or writers believe when writing them this way) that they have Dick’s best interests in mind and not their own. I just....disagree.

THE FATAL FLAW (at least as I see it here):

Is that I view this and Batfam members who do similar stuff as like.....falling into the trap of the savior friend complex. Its that thing when you see a friend hurting, and over time get FRUSTRATED by seeing this when a solution seems obvious to you but think they won’t take it because they’re too stubborn or don’t know what’s best for them....with this specifically recurring a LOT with Dick in particular, due to his core characterization of wanting to be the one to make his own choices. The problem here, same as the problem with the savior friend complex....is that it treats the subject of these views as like....incapable of determining what they need. Its a tacit condemnation that they actually don’t know how to cope with things and are doing it wrong - even though the ones making this assessment will never be the ones actually having to LIVE with the outcome of their meddling. Its the conviction that someone like Dick needs to be HANDLED, for his own good....because he can’t be trusted to KNOW what he needs, not as well as them at least.....and so they jump to manipulation rather than just....ASK him what he needs, or HOW they can best support him, or even just WHY he’s making the choices he is.

For instance, the problem with what Wally did was never that Dick wasn’t struggling. He was. He was drowning in his responsibilities, he had very little to no life outside of them.....Wally is not remotely in the wrong for WANTING to do something to change this situation. The problem is Wally basically defaulted to just...HANDLING his friend by restarting the Titans just to give Dick a social life again, which is pretty much a line straight out of the comics...and basically railroaded right over Dick’s initial ‘no’ when he first heard the proposal. And kept pushing things until Dick eventually joined up in order to get Wally to commit to the team too, because Wally spun it as though Dick was helping Wally by getting Wally to commit to the team for the very same reasons Wally wanted Dick to. And then....right after that, Wally quit to go back to just focusing on the Justice League, which was part of what Dick predicted would happen all along.

The thing was.....at no point along the way did Wally actually ask WHY Dick initially said no....he jumped straight to assuming his own view of the problem, that Dick just COULDN’T be made to ever see the reason to take a break occasionally and put his mental and emotional health as a priority. If he’d done this, Wally could have had dozens of other options to achieve his desired end result....he could’ve like....set up regular hangouts with Dick. 

But Wally jumped to assuming he knew the answer, he knew what was best for Dick, and that Dick’s logic was inherently self-destructive and self-flagellating.....and he felt the solution was to bring back the Titans, as he recalled their earlier times as Titans together as a time when Dick was better able to balance his social life and responsibilities.

But by not ever stopping to LISTEN to why Dick felt the way he did and was initially opposed to rejoining the Titans....Wally overlooked one crucial fact: He isn’t Dick.

And more important, his view of the past wasn’t Dick’s view of the past.

Wally was a lot more capable of viewing the Titans as not just a family, but an inherent social life, a hangout, a kind of club....because that’s what it had always been to him.

But he’d never been the leader.

Throughout all their childhoods, the whole time the Titans WERE all of the above, and relatively light-hearted in comparison to their older selves....Dick STILL had the weight of responsibilities that none of the others had by virtue of just...not being the leader. Ultimately, all of their lives were in HIS hands. He was the one calling the shots. The buck stopped with him.

And this is precisely WHY Dick had gotten to the point he had in adulthood. It wasn’t because he’d changed. It wasn’t because he’d stopped figuring out what he needed and how to take care of himself. Its because the position he’d ALWAYS been in as leader....has WEIGHT. That eventually added up more and more and weighed him down. A huge part of the reason Dick had ended up leaving the Titans in the first place, before they disbanded prior to the 1999 revival....is because of the sheer WEIGHT of all the deaths and misfortunes that had befallen the Titans....and how much he and he alone struggled with it in ways the others didn’t....because they didn’t have to. It hadn’t been their plans, their calls, their RESPONSIBILITY to find a way the others could have all made it out alive or at least less traumatized.

So.....of COURSE Dick said no when Wally first proposed restarting the Titans, before Wally defaulted to using his own membership as a lure to get Dick to agree.....because......nothing about the above paragraph had changed, via Wally’s ‘plan.’ It wasn’t because Dick just didn’t KNOW how to be a fully rounded person....it was because nobody was helping him find actual OPTIONS for doing that....that didn’t just double as MORE responsibilities! Because that’s exactly what ended up happening! Dick wound up the leader of the Titans again, just as responsible and just as invested as always.....just like he always knew he would....and also as he knew would happen...Wally ended up quitting not long into it and persuading Jessie Quick to step in as his replacement....aka just one more person for Dick to worry about when it wasn’t like he was going to be worrying any less about Wally, just now he wasn’t going to have Wally there to even POTENTIALLY be able to support him when tragedy inevitably struck because they’re freaking superheroes....and instead he’d just have another person looking to him for the answers but with no reason or chance of being the support Dick could ACTUALLY use at times like that!

Wally’s manipulations circumvented Dick’s opinion that no, actually he knew what was best for him and it wasn’t what Wally was suggesting....without actually accounting for the fact that hey, Dick might actually know that. And in the end, Wally got the result he was after, he got to feel that he’d HELPED his friend....which again, this isn’t WRONG to WANT to....but Dick didn’t...exactly....benefit from this. It wasn’t actually in his best interests ultimately.

I mean...see Donna’s death for details.

And in the aftermath of THAT....Roy essentially did exactly what Wally did....just in REVERSE! Roy got Dick to agree to lead the Outsiders, to shoulder responsibility once again....by promising that Dick WOULDN’T have to view them as family. And did Dick go too far and end up TOO uncaring about their welfare? Yup! No disagreements there! Problem is though....he only ended UP in that situation because yet again a friend thought they KNEW the solution to what Dick needed.....only for Dick to end up essentially punished and further self-blaming....just for doing exactly what Roy had told him TO do, with this particular team. Again - Roy hadn’t EXPECTED Dick to take it this far. But that’s the whole point! Roy had expectations about what Dick would ACTUALLY end up doing, that didn’t match up to the pitch Roy actually gave Dick to GET his agreement.....because Roy all along was of the assumption that by virtue of being Dick Grayson, he wouldn’t be ABLE to avoid connecting with these new teammates and viewing them as family, and thus he’d end up ‘snapping out of it’ with it being the funk he’d been in since Donna’s death.

Roy’s intentions might have been noble, once again.....but his methods stuck to the same pattern of people around Dick believing they knew what he needed or knew who he was or knew what it meant to BE Dick Grayson....better than Dick actually did...particularly when Dick said no, this isn’t what I need or this isn’t a good idea or just...I don’t want to do this.

And in the end....its Dick who ended up paying the price for it, as well as the people who got hurt because of his INTENTIONAL emotional distance.....because the ‘view all surrounding people as new surrogate family’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience hadn’t kicked in as Roy thought inevitably would....but the ‘view all this as directly my fault and suffer guilt for it forevermore’ aspect of the Dick Grayson Experience most certainly did! Not at all actually helped along by the fact that like....Roy also expressed frustration with Dick that like.....Dick hadn’t actually responded to Roy’s intended manipulation of his emotions the way Roy had expected him to when he EXPRESSLY TOLD DICK TO BEHAVE THE WAY THAT DICK ULTIMATELY BEHAVED. (Just, he didn’t tell Dick to dial that all the way up to Extra, but given that’s the only setting Dick does ANYTHING at, I feel its a possible outcome Roy should have at least considered. I mean, wasn’t the whole point that you know Dick Grayson better than he knows himself?)

But lo, I am salty.

LMAO, but I mean, you get it right? Obviously, I LIKE Wally and Roy. I LIKE Jason, etc. I’m not saying all of this to be like ugh how dare these characters do all this to Dick....I’m saying it because like.....they all keep falling into the same patterns of making a big fuss and acknowledgment of how much Dick prioritizes being able and free to make his own choices and decide what’s best for him and what HE wants.....

But without ever like....actively asking him AT THE RELEVANT TIME....what he thinks and feels about all this. What he thinks and feels he needs. What he ACTUALLY wants from them, or why he’s ACTUALLY saying no to something and maybe it being for reasons that aren’t just him inherently being stubborn and self-destructive.

And instead just defaulting to falling back on whatever he might have said or expressed in an entirely different context at an entirely different time.....and saying okay, by doing so, we are abiding by his wishes and thus doing what he wants and respecting his right to make his own choices.....

But ONLY when doing all of the above just so happens to align with these other characters then getting to do the thing or take the approach they’re already predisposed towards wanting to take because of their OWN self-interests at the same time.

With this never actually coming into play when respecting Dick’s wishes aligns with them taking actions they DON’T personally want to undertake, because it makes them uncomfy or they think its a bad call, even if it is something that should be his call to make.

Like....the pattern. It very much exists. And abounds. Like I could cite examples allllllllllll the way up to Ric Grayson, where Bruce respected RIC’S wishes to be left alone and not interfere in his life no matter what.....in ways Bruce almost never respects Dick’s actual expressed wish for Bruce to butt out of matters when Bruce is actually quite keen on meddling and would very much like to....

But notice how the other thing about the Ric Grayson storyline is that Ric’s expressed desire to stay the fuck out of vigilantism and superhero work, like.....just so happens to align with Bruce’s longstanding desire for Dick to like...get out of the vigilantism and superhero work? With butting out of Ric’s life and respecting his privacy in ways Dick has to FIGHT him for, like......absolutely the optimal action to take in order to allow this expressed desire of Ric’s to flourish in the ways Bruce always wished would kick in for Dick?

.....just saying. 

The pattern. It abounds.

And the key to breaking any pattern, of course, is to first recognize....and acknowledge....that it exists.

Otherwise you tend to fall into the trap of repeating and perpetuating it over and over without even realizing it, simply because its what’s familiar.

This has been A Post by Me. Thank you and have a nice day. Or don’t. Idk. I’m not the boss of you. Whatever.

[jaskiersvalley]

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

[yinses]

college au! headcanons

gojo satoru, geto suguru & nanami kento

rqst: college au for nanami, geto and gojo?

a/n: so i divided it into three categories to help keep my head straight. honestly almost straight kicked gojo out of college bc i couldn’t decide on a major for him. the jjk discord server is heaven sent for my sanity. ty everyone again 🌺

last time i should have to post these. hoping everything is fine now. 

gojo satoru

MAJOR

—he starts off undecided for a long time. the fact that he’s on scholarship allows him to be more flexible with his classes given that he’s not responsible for costs. he grew up with expectations from his family but university is suppose to be his opportunity to spread his own wings and grow from his experiences.

—so he tries a bit of everything- sciences, music and social studies- anything to prompt a spark. (took a business class once and made a point to sit next to nanami everyday just to annoy him) by his second year he’s getting as frustrated as his counselor because if he doesn’t decide soon he’ll be a potential 5th year senior.

—he’s overthinking it but gojo wants to invest in what he believes will make the most significant impact to his ability. his counselor takes those crumbs and runs with it.

—he gets steered towards political science and actually excels at it (that advisor gets a raise). surprises most of the class with his analytical skills because they thought he was just a pretty boy- surprise he’s beautiful and smart.

—develops a vested interest in governmental policies. might run for president one day idk. brings donuts to his early am class. doesn’t share.

SOCIAL

—he’s not the jock per say, but as the star athlete of the basketball team, the school likes to take advantage of his image to draw in sponsors.

—his face is plastered all over the auditorium whether they’re in season or not. sometimes it’s not even to promote basketball, gojo is pretty and they’re not afraid to use it. which also makes him one of the most recognizable faces on campus.

—due to his student athlete contract, he’s not allowed to sign autographs freely in the event they’re attempted to be sold as quick cash. but yikes, he can barely walk to class without someone stopping him for a picture. to the best of his ability he tries to laugh it off, poster boy image and all, but it gets pretty fucking old and annoying quickly. especially when it makes him late for his next lesson and the instructor shows no sympathy.

—his height didn’t only help him get into basketball, but its also convenient when it comes to shouldering politely through the student masses. his golden rule is don’t make eye contact. the busier the crowds the easier it is for him to pretend like he could’t possibly have heard them.

—gojo doesnt scout fraternities, fraternities scout him. but he’s not interested in the slightest. as an athlete he already gets into any social circle he wants without the additional effort. that and he doesnt think he could tolerate an alpha male trying to exert his dominance without barking back.

—loves to show up to parties but always arrives late enough to the point where they don’t think he’s coming. it helps him slip in when he wants too. he’s a connoisseur of all alcohol varieties and a master of beer bong. he’s not necessarily the life of the party but his presence is kind of hard to miss.

RELATIONSHIPS

—he gets too much attention to date casually. most potential suitors are in it more for the benefits they receive than him anyway. he’s got enough on his plate with career indecisiveness and games to try to pursue anything serious before third year.

—he’s not completely celibate though. he tries to keep the same partners as long as he can. not only to keep himself clean and safe but because he often goes into an agreement to keep it casual. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. either way he gets coined as a ‘heartbreaker’ before the end of his freshman year. frankly the rumors obscure most of the truth and give him more freedom. people always expect that he’s with someone even when he’s not, which helps keep his invasive teammates off his back.

—gojo can easily graduate without securing something tangible but there is still a window for potential.

—you’re both his consistent classmate and occasional friends with benefits. its the former title that keeps bringing him back around. he cant exactly avoid you without subjecting himself to 8am classes. it helps that the sex is good too.

—he can text you an offer to study together for the next test and roll over after an hour and wreck you for the rest of the week. its hard to tell who gets addicted first but he does appreciate the way your skin looks when youre wearing his marks.

geto suguru

MAJOR

—he’s a STEM kid, particularly interested in bio-genetics to improve overall health. he believes that simply becoming a physician just keeps the issue at bay and his goal is to eradicate the problem at its source.

—since high school he’s been cataloging different programs across the country before deciding what he wanted and putting all his efforts into it. so it’s no surprise when he gets in.

—geto doesn’t need counselors but they’re required so he listens to them prattle on about using university as an opportunity to explore. this man came in with more college credits than most sophomores, he knows what he wants.

—always on-time to class and never misses an assignment. also that kid who goes above and beyond, even on the simple stuff. he rarely gets teased about it, not even behind his back. geto straight up scares some people even when he’s smiling.

—not afraid to correct teachers when they’re wrong. in fact he lives for it.

—he’s the one who graduated early and starts his master’s program before most of his age group declare their own majors.

SOCIAL

—he tends to frequent the same circles- handpicking his acquaintances out of class rosters, clubs and honor lists. he’s less in it for the friendship and more so to scout for potential research partners.

—met gojo in one of his science electives and literally carried him through the class. they somehow end up friends but only really hang out at each other’s places- bunch of chill movie nights and pizza.

—there is no interest in fraternities, but he does join university funded clubs that allow him to further his research. they give him unique access to labs, take him on trips to different conventions and have an alumni list a kilometer long for future collaborations.

—the man does not party but he will occasionally slip into quieter bars to ease some of his frustrations. he actually enjoys karaoke thursdays , not to sing for himself but the drunken antics of others bring him some amusement.

—smokes weed occasionally, but only his own product. it helps him relaxand fan out the stress. he never sells it but sometimes gojo nicks some of his stash. given that he gets drug tested often, geto doesn’t know how the athlete never gets caught.

RELATIONSHIPS

—not interested in seeking out relationships in the slightest. the man has a plan and he’s already married to it.

—he’s not completely immune to sexual advances though and occasionally splurges but none of the friends with benefits crap. he’ll hit it once and stay celibate for the rest of the year easily.

—you might be able to squeeze in as his fellow lab partner. remain invested in the work and not him and he’ll start noticing the little details of your company- the way you subtle perfume lingers on his lab coat hours after you’ve adorned for the day, how he knows you have to keep your hair up for safety precautions but he thinks about running his fingers through it daily and your mind, damn, he wonders what else you can come up with when he has you laid out on his sheets.

—if he’s interested, geto won’t hesitate to broach the topic. he’ll ask you out for coffee and when you try to bring up research he’ll be upfront about his attraction. ultimately if you start dating the two of you are an absolute unit- not that you weren’t before.

—you’re the one variable he didn’t plan for but he’s glad to have added you to the equation.

nanami kento

MAJOR

—he was made for the business world, brought by a CEO who raised him to inherit the company. administration major marketing minor.

—takes initiative in all his classes and is often coined as group leader for projects. mostly keeps to himself  and only speaks up when prompted or disagrees with something.

—he takes the earliest sessions possible because it means less people more often than not. doesn’t really care if its in the front, middle or back but always sits near the edge.

—doesn’t really want to but it looks good on his resume so he joins the marketing team where they present mock business plans for competitions. they win a lot. nanami honestly doesn’t care. but again it looks good.

—it only took him a brief summer internship to learn that he found nothing satisfying about board meetings and macro management.

—he decides to invest in law school to handle the company from a legal standpoint instead.

SOCIAL

— sort of like geto, only wants to make friends on a need be basis.

—he would rather keep to himself but knows the benefits of socializing so he interacts with his frequent classmates when he can- through study groups or car pooling to seminars.

—he does join a fraternity, its the same one his father did (and uncles, cousins, whatnot. its a generational thing). its geared towards bettering future leaders. they focus building resumes, charity events and run the organization like a proper business. nanami gets elected president by his third year and runs two terms.

—the only parties he attends are networking events- full of wine and fancy horderves. wine is plentiful but he’s always nursing a scotch on top of his headache. if one more person squeezes their stocks into a conversation he’s going to personally take down the whole market

—zero interest in college party life. spends some of his downtime at the campus theater watching old time movies and classic plays.

—he’s the coffee shop hoe. he wakes up early sometimes just to sit by the window and read some casual literature. has his own thermo that gives him free refills to cart to class. do not talk to this man before he’s had his caffeine.

RELATIONSHIP

—he probably has a high school sweetheart that he’s still clinging too, whether on the same campus or long distance. it helps him because he can’t really see himself pursuing a relationship while focusing on school.

—he’s been with you long enough that you understand his ambitions and won’t feel bested by them. the two of you have a system- starting the day off with sweet ‘good morning’ texts before class and ending the day with long conversations as you digest the last 12 hours.

—nanami is independent but he is thankful to have you to rely on when classes start to overwhelm him. the two of try to escape briefly for the weekend when you can. often going to near by reservations just to get off campus

—other times the two of you will cuddle close on your dorm bed, his long fingers combing through your hair while he reads over some notes for class.

—sometimes you have to be the one to tell him to take a break and to enjoy life while he can. even if that means dragging him the events and concerts hosted on campus. he resists at first but you can see the tension ebbing away as the night comes to a close.

—the two of you start living together in your senior year just because you can. he insists on buying a house. not only because he can afford it because it can be rented out after graduation. always the business man.

[bestworstcase]

I like your thoughts on how Rapunzel was handling things wrong in “Rapunzel: Day One.” The episode tries to imply that Cassandra is wrong for not sharing her feelings with Rapunzel, but is a Rapunzel really the person Cassandra should be opening up to? Rapunzel never respects Cassandra’s boundaries. Cassandra’s a private person. Rapunzel doesn’t respect that. And just because Cassandra doesn’t want to open up to everyone doesn’t mean that she’s bottling things up.

ok so this is gonna be a long one bc tbh i like. fundamentally disagree that RDO, the narrative of RDO, in any way positions cassandra as the one at fault for the emotional conflict between her and raps.

to digress a bit - while tts is not immune to Aesop Episodes (e.g. rapunzel's enemy or you're kidding me) wherein the characters close out the story by talking about What They've Learned, ultimately i don't think tts can or should be read as a morality play. it's a story where sometimes characters just... fuck up and the narrative doesn't waste its time on hand-holding or spoon-feeding us the moral.

anyway, i submit that RDO is what i'll call a False Aesop Episode. it follows the basic structure of an Aesop Episode (protagonist acts badly -> protagonist learns a lesson) but the lesson rapunzel learns is a bad one. it's like if you took... say, "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" as an aesop, the False Aesop here is rapunzel confidently eating a rotten apple and then being blindsided a few months later when the doctor who kept begging her not to eat food with maggots in it steals the moonstone from under her nose and runs off into the night with her new demon pal--

and that metaphor got away from me a little bit but you get the idea.

#1: constructing the conflict

the episode opens with cassandra. she's training; we see the sword fly out of her injured hand; lance suggests she take a break, and she answers, "thanks to rapunzel's little trick at the great tree, i have to relearn everything using this hand, so breaks aren't really an option."

she isn't harsh about it. her demeanor isn't all that different from her normal self—she even segues into a very typical concern (that the woods are dangerous and they should all be on their guard) and banters with lance a bit.

what this communicates, immediately and succinctly, is that:

1. cassandra's injury is severe. it's disabling. she's either in immense pain or she's lost all the strength in that hand or both.

2. cass is really upset about this, and not happy with rapunzel.

3. nevertheless cass is keeping her feelings more or less in check; the worst anyone could say about her is she's being a bit more curt than normal.

which is to say, she's acting quite reasonable. she's not taking out her hurt feelings on anyone else or being mean or lashing out, and she's not hiding her injury either. the most concerning thing about her behavior here is actually that she's focused on training so she can do her job instead of on healing or resting or taking care of herself.

then there's a pan over to rapunzel, who is angrily watching this play out while venting to pascal. "i get why cass is mad at me," she says. "she told me—" huge disdainful rolling of eyes here "—not to use the decay spell back and the tree, and i did, and she hurt her hand. but if she had just listened to me and stayed out of it, this all could have been avoided! and i feel like we could work things out, but she refuses to talk about it!!"

line this up against cassandra's behavior and spot the differences.

cass is focused on her injured hand. cass is upset because rapunzel accidentally mutilated her in the great tree. that's what this conflict is about for cass; her injury, and how she feels about being injured.

by contrast, rapunzel thinks the conflict is about them not listening to each other. she does acknowledge that cass was injured, but 1. she puts the blame on cass, and 2. has shoved the fact of the injury to the periphery of the conflict. it's not important, it's just a natural consequence of the real conflict, which is cass being mad and petty and refusing to talk to her about how she's unfairly blaming rapunzel for something that wasn't rapunzel's fault.

[i will add here that this behavior from rapunzel is 100% not knowing how to handle guilt and externalizing it as anger, and this thread of rapunzel burying her guilt gets picked up again in rapunzeltopia; it isn't that rapunzel doesn't care that cass is hurt, so much as she's just not emotionally equipped to process these feelings in a healthy way so it mutates into...this.]

and where cass handles her feelings in a pretty reasonable way, rapunzel rants and raves and draws cass as a literal monster with fangs and claws—she's stewing in her out of control emotions and concludes that she just has to find a way to force cass talk to her, which she does shortly thereafter by ordering—not asking—cass to come with her to search for parts to fix the caravan.

#2: the breakdown of communication

i've said it before but it bears repeating: cassandra might not be perfect, but she's a good communicator. in s1 and the front half of s2, she shares her feelings with rapunzel readily and frequently. when she tries to set boundaries with rapunzel, she's able to be clear and specific about what she needs. when she expresses frustration with eugene or her dad or rapunzel, she's very articulate about exactly what she's frustrated about. she can recognize when politer, softer refusals are being ignored and become blunter and more specific to ensure the message is getting across.

the moments when cass struggles to communicate are noteworthy because they're not normal. they signal that she's in acute crisis. think of how her unhinged rant about adira in RATGT heralded a complete emotional breakdown. she clams up in RDO because it's the only thing she can do to protect herself. because rapunzel is an inexperienced nineteen year old who learned all her social "skills" from a manipulative, egotistical abuser and nowhere in the series does that show more than in RDO.

rapunzel knows cass doesn't want to talk about the great tree, so she isolates cass from the rest of the group with the intention of forcing her to talk about it anyway. she's passive aggressive at first: chattering about inanities and trying to bait cass into 'opening up,' and acting vexed and guilt-trippy when she finds out cass brought owl along. she broaches the subject by going "too bad there's not an open-up-to-your-best-friend-about-the-thing-you-guys-are-fighting-about wand, huh?"

then she leads with "i know you're mad at me, but i did the right thing. i didn't have a choice," which... what can cass even say to that? she acknowledged cassandra's anger in one breath and followed up with "but you're wrong tho" in the next. that statement makes cassandra's feelings about her debilitating injury into an argument about Who Was Right.

this is a game that cass tries very hard not to play. "look, if you feel that way, then it's fine. we're good," she says, which is a statement that is not true at all on its face but - what it means is that if rapunzel wants to turn this into a debate about Who Was Right, cass will concede because that's not an argument she's invested in. cass does not want to put her feelings on trial so rapunzel can pick them apart and decide whether she deserves to have them or not.

so she disengages. the sun sets. they camp. rapunzel pokes her again, this time with a more direct approach: "cass, i need to talk about what we both know is going on between us."

and that's when cass throws up a WALL. prior to RDO, when cass is pressed on her feelings, she either: 1. opens up and explains to the extent that she's able (e.g. under raps or RATGT), or 2. flatly shuts the conversation down (e.g. cassandra vs eugene). but in RDO?

"there's nothing to talk about."

"i never said i was upset."

"what makes you so sure that you know how i'm feeling?"

this is cass falling off the end of her rope. this is a cass who spent the last year and a half with rapunzel running roughshod over every boundary cass exhausted herself trying to set. this is cass maybe a few weeks out from rapunzel screaming at her in front of all their mutual friends and then telling her "i am going to make decisions you don't agree with and i need you to be okay with that" when cass tried to open up about her deepest insecurities. this is cass spiraling into despair because she's seen that her best friend cares more about assuaging her own guilt and exerting her authority as a princess than she does about cassandra's feelings.

this is the moment when the friendship dies.

#3: the memory wipe, cassandra's apology, and the false aesop

the details of the tangled-but-cass shenanigans are not super important for the purposes of this discussion. suffice it to say that cassandra lashes out in the heat of the moment, seriously harms rapunzel by mistake, and spends the rest of the episode trying to repair the damage, then apologizes to rapunzel for hurting her. this is, obviously, the correct thing to do when you hurt someone, even if it was an accident.

you see the parallel here, yeah?

rapunzel hurt cass with magic by accident, and then made cass's hurt feelings all about her, blamed cass for the injury, twisted the facts to justify her own indignation, picked a fight about Who Was Right and invalidated cassandra's feelings, and pushed and pushed and pushed until cass blew up and lashed out at her.

cassandra also hurt rapunzel with magic by accident, and then she set aside her own hurt feelings from the argument they were having before to focus one hundred percent of her energy on brewing a cure and keeping amnesiac rapunzel safe, readily admitted her fault, and offered an earnest apology for losing her temper as soon as she could reasonably do so.

if RDO were a true Aesop Episode, this would be the lesson, and rapunzel would of course learn from cassandra's good example and reciprocate by apologizing for the accident in the great tree and her abysmal behavior afterwards—and in a reflection of how cass shared how bottling up her anger allowed it to erupt in a catastrophic way, rapunzel would probably confess that her demanding, selfish behavior came from a place of feeling awful about what happened and terrified that it would ruin their friendship.

but RDO is a False Aesop Episode. rapunzel isn't emotionally equipped to handle the intensity of her guilt, and she lacks the social insight and empathy to draw comparisons between what she did to cass and what cass did to her, so she can't connect the two situations in her head to understand what she's doing wrong. the true aesop flies right over her head, and instead what she learns is this:

1. she was right about cass being upset

2. backing cass into a corner fixed the problem

3. friends really do "just know"

4. being pushy and forceful was the right thing to do.

because the thing is, when cass apologizes for the accidental memory wipe, she truthfully explains why she acted the way she did—she's furious and she didn't want to talk about it, so she held it in as long as she could and then exploded when the pressure became too much—and for rapunzel, i think the explanation and the actual apology get conflated. meaning, cass says "i'm sorry for what i did out of anger" and what rapunzel hears is "i'm sorry for being angry."

and because of that misunderstanding, from rapunzel's perspective her own indignation has been validated and her behavior justified, because she was right all along and cass shouldn't have been angry with her in the first place and now everything is fine--

but it's not fine.

we're not supposed to share rapunzel's perspective here, because she's flat out wrong. nothing is really better and nothing has really changed, except that rapunzel got the talk she wanted and stops putting this intense pressure on cass. so as we enter the house of yesterday's tomorrow, rapunzel is taking it for granted that things are fine with cass, and meanwhile cass is still injured, still angry, still as aloof as she can be without getting rapunzel breathing down her neck again... and then she meets zhan tiri, who gives her everything she needed and couldn't get from rapunzel.

like, to my mind, this is the entire point of RDO, that rapunzel makes this catastrophic mess of trying to patch things up after RATGT and comes out of that mess wrongly thinking she succeeded. the episode is presented through the lens of rapunzel's perspective, but the lines are very wide and i absolutely think the intention is for the audience to read between them and understand the reality that rapunzel has sort of blinded herself to.

[skrltwtch]

Scent

Prompt: a & b have been friends since they were children — but they’ve gone their separate ways during college. during that time apart, muse a and b were attacked by a vampire and werewolf respectively, undergoing a transformation they never expected. they kept it a secret from each other, hoping that this doesn’t change their friendship — until they meet up over summer and … holy fucking shit why do you SMELL like that? (Source in master list)

Word count: 5,123 words

Genre: Romance, supernatural

Warnings: Blood

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Impatience composed the rhythm my fingers were drumming on the table. Late. As always. The optimist in me would say it was comforting to know that some things remained the same after all these years. The pessimist in me, the unspoken captain of this ship, wondered why it had to be this gross habit that weathered the winds of change. He suggested this time and place. He had been insistent on meeting in the evening. I didn’t mind either way. I simply figured that being fussy about what time to meet meant that he’d put some effort into being on time.

Because the bar had a flood of new patrons and a dearth of ones contented enough to leave, I went inside and got a table for us first. I didn’t want to have to think of a new place for us to go if the place was packed by the time he got here — whenever that’d be. Time check: fifteen minutes and counting. He was such a lovely friend, and may God never fail to bless every brown hair on his head for every second of his life, but this was infuriating. Not even a text to tell me where he was and what was holding him up. Morgan, please!

His arrival melted away all the indignation I was feeling — and made every hair on the back of my neck stand.

No, that was the pins and needles from sitting cross-legged for too long.

‘Ellie?’ Confusion squinched his eyes. I expected this. The last time he saw me was in college, i.e., some twenty kilograms ago. I wouldn’t have pitched a fit if he’d thought the pictures I used were the result of Photoshop, Facetune, and/or angles. In contrast, he looked exactly as he did when the pictures he used were taken — in college, albeit maybe with a little less baby fat in his face than I’d remembered. Damn. Well, how much could a person change in three years? It wasn’t like he ever needed to lose an ounce of weight, too, let alone twenty kilograms.

When I confirmed I was the same Ellie he’d had the privilege of knowing since childhood, he enveloped me in a hug. I did what had been conditioned into me by the ‘dog’ that I told people was responsible for the scar on my arm the time I went jogging at night because I thought the full moon was bright enough to keep me safe. People were more keen on lecturing me for daring to have that train of thought as a woman in London than questioning what kind of dog it was exactly that could leave a scar like the kind I had, perfectly vindicating my choice of cover for what really happened.

His scent was like a bat to my face. I’d never smelled anyone like this before. People smelled like their diets, their emotions, their likes and dislikes, their best and worst memories: all that made them, them. The scents I’d have associated with him would’ve been the crisp brininess of sea air and the comforting sweetness of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Instead, he smelled like blood, yet it didn’t smell like it belonged to him — or in him. I was also discerning a discomforting whiff of inhumanity, like something in him had been switched off. On top of that, he was clammy to the touch, and, most damningly of all, perhaps — no, no ‘perhaps’, as I pressed my ear to his chest, I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I put on my best poker face and released myself from his embrace. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair. ‘God, it is so good to see you. It’s been so long. And look at you! I couldn’t recognise you. (Is it gauche to say that was why I was late?) I only knew — I only had a feeling it was you because —’

‘Because …?’

He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not important. Listen, I don’t know what I was thinking, asking to meet in a crowded bar … Do you want to go somewhere quieter? So we can talk better without having to shout?’

I downed the last of my drink, which I’d been forced to get earlier than I wanted so the staff wouldn’t kick me out for taking up a table in one of the more desirable corners of their establishment. I agreed with Morgan on the condition that he thought of where to go next. I hated crowds to begin with, and now that I was hypersensitive to all that the five senses encompassed, crowds were, to put it simply, a fucking nightmare. I should’ve put a kibosh on his suggestion to meet at a bar when he made it. I’d be comparing apples and oranges here, but not liking crowds was normal, whereas smelling and feeling like a dead person wasn’t.

We went for ice cream. The first thing he asked me was how I lost the weight. Had we not met on an app meant for matchmaking, his first question would likely have been something else entirely, something to do with what it was that had us seeing each other for the first time since college. I told him what I did to get in shape, which was to watch what I ate and move farther and for longer than the trips I made from my room to the kitchen or bathroom, or from my desk to the pantry or washroom, throughout the day. What I left out was how I’d been maintaining despite having ordered something as indulgent as three heaping scoops of gelato with chocolate brownie pieces and hot fudge sauce: catch something from an animal bite that counted an enhanced metabolism needed to sustain monthly bodily trauma among one of its many symptoms. It really was easy as that.

We opted for takeout and a walk around Hyde Park to pad out our evening. The open space did nothing to defuse his strange scent. It was all I could focus on, and I needed all the brain cells I could get to the office on such short notice focus on our conversation. We’d gotten the answers to simple questions about our lives over text prior to tonight: what we did after college, what we were doing now, how our families were doing, so on and so forth. You know, small talk bullshit. I hadn’t doubted that we’d broach the subject of our break from each other at some point during our reconnection. The elephant had made itself comfortable in the room the instant I received the notification he’d swiped right on me. The thing was, the elephant couldn’t stop another one of its ilk from invading its space, and now they were both arguing over which one of them deserved our attention better.

The almost pristine three-layered sundae drenched in strawberry sauce in Morgan’s hand provided the perfect icebreaker for me to possibly appease either elephant. ‘Are you okay, Morgan?’ I said. ‘You’ve barely touched your ice cream.’ Conversely, I was halfway through mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had hot fudge sauce smeared across my lips.

It wasn’t only his restraint from inhaling his ice cream, the single course of action the Morgan I knew, the one who wouldn’t be smelling like a mortuary, would’ve carried out ages ago. He had been looking out of sorts the entire evening. Even softballs were answered with skittishness and reserve. Really, why’d he agree to meet if he wasn’t entirely over what happened all those years ago? If that was what this was about, that is. Did seeing me in person make him realise that it wasn’t the best of ideas to attempt to rekindle a friendship that’d turned awkward from differing expectations? It didn’t bother me in any way, but that was easy for me to say, considering the role I played in all this.

‘I’m fine.’ He gulped down a giant spoonful of ice cream without flinching. He and I understood the concept of ‘fine’ very differently. ‘Ellie … we’re friends, right?’

He’d wanted to be more than at one point.

‘Yeah,’ I said as deadpan as I could to prevent him from reading too much into my answer. I mean, I would if I were him.

‘We can tell each other anything.’

We sure did.

‘Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way,’ he continued.

I stared at him blankly. Caveats never came before anything good.

‘… Why do you smell like that?’

Wow, what the fuck. I should be the one asking that question, not him!

‘Like what?’ Still as deadpan as humanly possible. Disregard the fact that I hadn’t been human in a while.

‘Like … fuck, I can’t. This was a bad idea.’

‘No, tell me. Like what?’

‘Like the forest. Moss. Tree bark. Leaves. Dirt. And a little bit of raw meat.’ There were no pauses between his words, though the sounds were disparate enough to identify them as actual words. ‘No, a lot of raw meat. No, forget I said anything. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.’

‘Just what has gotten into you, period? Why do you smell like spoilt wine — like blood?’ I wanted to ask as well why he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat. I remembered in time that a stethoscope was required to detect that sort of thing, and I had no business owning one. I wouldn’t even know where to get one, short of robbing the doctor the next time I had to go in for a check-up.

‘Something happened to us, didn’t it? Other than the obvious.’

‘I think so. Say it together on the count of three?’ I needed the countdown to convince myself that whatever had made him like this hadn’t made him cruel. He hadn’t said or done anything that’d wound me. No, what was I thinking? This was Morgan I was talking about. What sacrilege to think he could hurt a living being. I should apologise to him for this.

He agreed to my proposition.

I started the countdown: ‘One — two — three —’

‘I’m a vampire.’

‘I’m a werewolf.’

Together: ‘What?’

‘Are you messing with me?’ he said.

‘Are you messing with me?’

‘Have I ever?’

He had a point. I really needed to apologise to him. ‘How did it happen?’ Why play dumb? I turned into a hulking wolf-woman hybrid once a month. There were obviously others like me. It stood to reason that vampires would exist as well.

‘I … met someone after college. She and I had … stuff in common. I thought she was kidding when she asked if she could feed on me the first time. I let her anyway, and so much about her made sense immediately. I asked her to turn me eventually. Being vampires together was fun at first … and then it wasn’t. I don’t regret it, though. Okay, I do regret not being able to really enjoy food anymore.’ He cast a wistful stare in the direction of his sundae. It was a milkshake by now. ‘You?’

‘I was bitten while I was hiking at night. It was an accident. He’ — I paid no attention to the wince he made — ‘realised what he did and brought me to safety. He revealed himself to me the next day. He taught me everything about being a werewolf. Of course, one thing led to another, and …’

‘He was your ex,’ he said stiffly. For the first time tonight, I smelled something other than blood on him: bitterness.

‘Yes, the one I told you about on Tinder.’ Because he asked. His responses in that part of the conversation, as brief as it was, had borne little to no emotion. Jude and I ended things on a good note. I made that clear to Morgan. There was nothing for him — as a friend — to have strong feelings about. ‘Please, Morgan.’ Us coming across each other and reconnecting on a dating app meant — was supposed to mean — nothing.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry for what happened in college. I’m over it, I promise. The time and distance apart helped. I don’t want us to not be friends anymore because of this — because of what I did. I’m happy we got to meet again after so long … and after everything that happened.’

‘It’s okay, Morgan. I wasn’t — I’m not — upset about what happened.’ I wasn’t really anything about it. Okay, I might have been surprised that the roles had been as they were: Morgan glowed up toward the end of secondary school, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by most of the female population wherever he went, whereas I was pudgy, socially awkward, and not the right amount of weird for it to be seen as quirky, and would therefore be likely to latch on to my sole source of male attention. (I was now two out of three of those things.) ‘Things happen. We don’t get to control this kind of thing. I’m happy, too, that you’re back. I missed you. I’m happy you got to work things out and want to continue being friends. Let’s just put this behind us and move on, okay?’

I hugged him. Relief and cheer emanated from him, alleviating the musty scent that made sense to belong to a vampire.

‘I missed you, too. On the bright side, it made the vampire–werewolf confession easier to stomach, didn’t it?’ His grin revealed pointed canines.

I chuckled. We could compare our fangs sometime. ‘What do you do for food?’

He guzzled the entirety of his sundae-milkshake in one drag. I envied the apparent departure of the concept of brain freeze from him. I should learn more about vampire lore from him and see what Hollywood had gotten right and wrong. (It was mostly the latter for werewolves: we were underrepresented and misrepresented. I just could never get a fair shake on the big screen.) ‘You’d be surprised by how well vampires have modernised and worked the Internet to their advantage. Blood bag delivery services, forums and apps for vampires and … vampire enthusiasts to connect. How about you? What do you do on full moons?’

‘I drive out to the woods whenever I transform — whenever I want to. That’s a thing.’ Jude and I spent a lot of our nights together as wolves. I did miss that sometimes. Jude never prepared me for how lonely being a werewolf could be until it was too late. ‘I hunt. I play. I explore. I haven’t killed anyone to the best of my knowledge.’

‘I want to make a “good girl” joke, but you can literally tear me from limb to limb.’ I nodded with a slight air of pride. ‘This is so fascinating. Vampires are pretty straightforward. What you see in movies and on TV is what you get — mostly.’ Ah, hell. ‘Hey, can I tag along whenever you transform? So I can learn how to hunt animals. Blood bags are actually kind of shitty, and I’m trying to keep biting people to a minimum. I — um — I don’t want to accidentally go too far and turn or kill someone.’

I was deeply relieved that he was still the same caring, thoughtful person I knew in spite of the faint unfeelingness I sniffed earlier. I wouldn’t think twice if it were another vampire: maybe that was what was needed for them to survive. I mean … who was I to judge? I gave in to feral thoughts occasionally. Given a choice, the only thing I’d choose to hunt was the perfect red velvet cake. But this was Morgan, the same person I needed to apologise to for thinking he’d say something mean to make me feel bad on purpose.

‘Of course, I’d love to show you the ropes! Just don’t judge my wolf form, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m sure you look great. Would you prefer being called cute or ferocious?’

‘Both, please.’

‘I figured. Can you believe I was afraid to tell you about this? I didn’t know how you’d react, especially after …’

‘Same.’ The club that knew what I was, was a highly exclusive one, consisting of only two members at the moment and for the foreseeable future. I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Just how would this come up in a normal conversation? ‘I know we can tell each other anything.’ We did. We were in a world where asking a friend to be more than friends was less cause for concern for one’s mental health after all. ‘And nothing’s come between us. Not even —’

He nodded emphatically.

We found a place to sit in the park and continued talking, sharing stories about our new lives and recounting those from our old ones. Time became inconsequential, as did the fact that it had done so on a weeknight. We left only because the park was closing soon and I got hungry, because enhanced metabolism. A Lebanese takeaway near the park was my saviour. Our conversation persisted into the wee hours of the morning and a long way away from where we’d started. As he turned down my request to have breakfast together before heading home almost at the crack of dawn as we were wont to do in our early college days (and he did so patiently, which was more than what I deserved for being a forgetful idiot), it hit me for a moment that being friends with a vampire might pose a challenge to scheduling, as if his chronic lateness wasn’t already a thing. Then I realised it didn’t matter. I was simply happy to have him back in my life, and while anything about us could change at any time, one thing was for certain: our friendship would be everlasting.

✦✧✦✧

It happened again.

I fell in love with her again.

As soon as I felt the same tingle in my stomach that gave rise to our long separation in college, I knew I had to call our friendship off for good. This couldn’t keep happening. She needed a friend she could count on to be there for her because he wanted to out of cordiality, not one whose intentions she’d constantly be second-guessing. She had to know something was up. She had to have sensed my feelings for her. What could that nose of hers not detect? No, we agreed not to read each other’s emotions using our sense of smell. We weren’t at that level of intimacy with each other, as much as I desperately wanted us to be.

And hell, did I ever want it so terribly. Being what I was, everything I felt was intensified. I didn’t know what I might do to her if I continued to be around her while she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and I didn’t want to find out. I was prepared to spend all of eternity without her. There’d come a time anyway when she wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Werewolves weren’t immortal. I’d have to watch her grow old — at a slower rate than humans, sure. So that’d buy us at least a decade or two. So what? I’d still have to watch her die. The sooner I ended things, the better it’d be for the both of us. She could get a head start on the life she deserved, one free of a perpetually lovesick wanker.

I’d do it tonight — under the stars at the beach, the breeze appreciable but not disruptive, the waves lapping the shore with calm strokes, the waxing gibbous moon bathing us in a warm, tranquil glow. It was fucking perfect … for what I wished this was instead of what this was supposed to be. It didn’t have to be tonight. Did I want to ruin this lovely picnic she’d so eagerly planned and looked forward to? It had to be tonight. The longer I spent in her company, the more I feared I’d do something that’d push us beyond the brink of repair.

Desire and disquietude were making it difficult to focus on her words. She was talking about … her latest project at work or the 22nd and 23rd cats her sister had just adopted … or something. Her lips were mesmerising to watch. They must feel just as nice to kiss. Jude was bloody lucky to be the only person to know for sure. Fuck. Fuck, Morgan. You’d fucking lost the plot. This shit was exactly why you needed to get away from her. Fucking knob. Fucking loser who thought ‘once bitten, twice shy’ didn’t apply to him. She’d think you were a fucking obsessive creep, and she’d be right.

‘— I can’t stand to visit her. I don’t need to be a werewolf to think that the smell of twenty-something cats in an okay-sized flat is horrendous. And no one would dare call her out on it. You know what she’s like. It’s how she has twenty-something cats to begin with. She wasn’t even a cat person before. Anyway’ — Ellie held up her hands, the movement stealing my attention from her lips, ‘low contact, as it is with the rest of them.’ She popped a pie bar in her mouth. ‘And I just spent the last five minutes ranting about my sister and her lack of self-control. Totally the best thing to do at a time like this, right?’

I could listen to her spout off about the most mundane thing possible all night and find it all so riveting.

I sipped my drink — badger blood to bring out the sweetness of the fruit-heavy dishes and complement the fowl-based sandwiches she packed. I never would’ve thought of pairing the blood of different animals with human food to make the latter more palatable. She revived in me the thrill of being a vampire after two years of languishing under the spell of ennui and regret for an existence spanning all of eternity cast on me by the desolation of my split from Lorelai. And I was likely going to go down that rabbit hole again after tonight. It was for a good cause. I’d rather be miserable than be the source of her headache.

‘Morgan? You’re — um —’ She made a circular motion at my upper body, and then heaved her shoulders in an amused shrug. ‘I wish you all the best in getting all that out.’

I looked over what she’d gestured at. ‘Fuck it. I’d been meaning to toss this shirt anyway.’

I soaked up what I could with a napkin — or five — and took off my shirt before I’d retch from the smell. I practised controlled feeding for a reason. Now I was shirtless and a little bloodied, just in time for one of the most important conversations in my very long, soon to be very lonely, life to take place. Terrific.

‘Ellie, I — I have something to tell you.’

‘I fucked up the dip, didn’t I?’

‘No, it’s not that — it’s delicious.’ For something that didn’t come from a vein, at least. ‘Ellie … I love you.’ Again. Because I was a stupid fuck.

Her lips formed an O. Stop fucking looking at her lips!

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought I’d gotten over it the first time.’ It sucked that there was now a ‘first time’. ‘I just get this feeling when I’m around you. I feel safe, happy — I feel like I’m alive again. I don’t have to hide anything about myself. I can be me, yet you make me want to be the best I can be for you. But I can’t keep doing this to you and myself. I don’t want to settle on being friends this time. I know that part of me won’t let me either. And I don’t know what that part of me would do if I continue to be in your life like this.’

‘Morgan —’

‘I shouldn’t have come back. I’ve enjoyed the past year tremendously. But I think — I know I have to leave now while things are still … good between us. It’d be for the best. I don’t want to fuck up what we had since we were kids. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She simply stared at me. She must be thinking why the fuck she’d been saddled with a right prat for a friend. Where did things go wrong? Did I knock back too many whiskey shots on my 18th birthday? I vaguely remembered her asking me to stop after my eleventh. Why wasn’t she still saying anything? Did I break her?

‘No, Morgan’ was what she said at last — and the only thing she said for the longest time.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Her hand hovered over mine. Uncertainty swam about in her eyes. Her dilemma was plain to see. I took her hand and locked our fingers together. This was the only time I could get away with being this forward. I wanted to savour her warmth as well for as long as I could; I’d miss it so much.

‘I have to. It’s not safe for you to be around me.’

‘But … I want to be with you. Not as friends. Morgan … I’ve fallen in love with you, too.’

‘What are you saying? No, don’t — that’s not —’ Had I put her under some kind of glamour without realising it? Was she humouring me? Every fibre of my being yearned for what I heard to be true. Nothing I’d seen in all the time we spent together suggested the possibility. Nothing we did together seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I’m — I mean it. I should be the one apologising, I think. I’ve felt this way for the last couple of months. I look forward to being with you all the time. I love receiving your texts throughout the night and waking up to them in the morning. Nothing feels like it’s happened until I tell you about it. I get these butterflies in my stomach every time you smile at me and touch me. You remember these small details about us from so long ago. I think the moment I knew was when I was having a tough time transforming for whatever reason and you were just … there for me, holding me, talking me down. I love you. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you’d react because of — because of what happened in college.’

She sniffled. Seeing that I was the reason for her tears stung my heart. I wiped them away for her. ‘I love you. I always will,’ I said.

Then our lips met. I’d waited so long for this, and it was both everything I dreamt of and like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so sweet. I tasted the tartness of cherries and apples, the smokiness of turkey, the acidic sharpness of vinaigrette, on her mouth, notes I thought lost to me forever. An indistinct thumping sounded deep inside my chest. Her fingers slid into my hair, making waves of it. I pulled her closer to me, my hands gripping her waist, in the hope that the rush of her skin against mine would allay my doubts that this was all just a dream. But how could it be a dream when everything seemed to finally make sense? While Lorelai had promised a life anew in death, Ellie was the promise of a life renewed and delivered from death.

I didn’t want this moment to end. It had to, as my body was beginning to respond to the call of her blood.

She pulled away. No, I wanted to cry out. She must’ve sensed my thirst.

‘It’s okay if you want to,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

She bared her neck for me. My nostrils flared. I could smell her blood — like red hot ambrosia. Her heartbeat pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second I dithered. Why was I hesitating? I wanted her. I needed her.

I sank my teeth into her neck. She shuddered; a soft moan fled her lips. Crimson flowed out of the punctures I made. Everything I’d imbibed prior paled in comparison to what I was now partaking of: little explosions of flavour — syrupy, racy, robust — went off in my mouth. I feared nothing else could do it for me after this. I lapped up every drop of ruby as if it were exquisite manna; I made sure none of it went to waste. The blood I ingested was making its way south, making a signal for another kind of craving to be met. Not now. It’d be too soon for us. I had all the time in the world to get to know her better.

Her scent and whines were becoming too hard to ignore. I stopped for fear that I was misinterpreting them out of my own bias. I found myself staring into enlarged amber irises in pools of black. Claws had popped out from under her fingernails. She, too, was sporting fangs. Her chest, lightly shining with sweat, rose and fell sharply. The changes reversed themselves in short order. Red spread across her cheeks in uneven blotches.

‘I’m sorry. I —’ she said.

I cupped my hand around her cheek. ‘You can let go if you want to. You don’t have to be shy around me.’ She’d always been sheepish about her wolf form and the lengths she went to for its emergence around me. The incident she referred to had only been allowed to happen because her panic attack drowned out any embarrassment, any diffidence, she harboured about the process. That was the only time I saw her in that state.

She shook her head. ‘I know. I just — I’d want to experience that — our first time — as myself, and I don’t think I can do that now. I hope that’s okay.’

I wiped my mouth and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘Of course. We don’t have to rush into things. We have a lifetime ahead of us’, and I wanted every second to be as special as the last. She smiled in agreement and enfolded me in a tight embrace. It startled me how much she felt just like home in my arms. I could do this with her forever, and for a fleeting moment, as I fingered the now unblemished skin where my teeth had pierced, I wondered if there would ever be the chance of her wanting to share in my idea of forever.

[queerlymasculine]

note to subs with ptsd and other struggles related to childhood trauma:

I've had a bit of an Emotional Journey over the week or so, and I want to impart a few lessons. I can only speak for myself and my own experiences, so ymmv, but hopefully this will be helpful in some way.

(obviously, this will have non-specific, general references to childhood trauma. no details are given. this discusses expecting other people to act like one's abuser(s) did/does. but there are no details.)

disclaimer: everything I say here assumes a relationship with a dom who is acting in good faith. also, my dom and I don't play with rules or punishments, so when I say something like I felt like I had done something wrong, I mean it in a regular, everyday, interpersonal relationship way. this post is only talking about kink dynamics that are ongoing relationships. finally, kink is not a substitute for therapy with a licensed and competent professional nor for medical treatment if appropriate. go to therapy.

disclaimer over.

self-awareness is one of the most important skills you need to build in order to practice kink safely and responsibly. sometimes the way we react to things does not seem logical from the outside, so we need to understand why we react certain ways and be able to clearly communicate that. this does not just apply to reactions that may occur during a scene. in fact, I think it's even more important for reactions outside of a scene.

for example, recently, I realized I have not been as supportive to my dom as I would like. it's been a tough month for me for a variety of reasons -- not enough work, pandemic, ongoing health issues, etc -- and although it's understandable to be at limited capacity, I want to be a more positive, supportive person in general, at least towards the people I like. so I had this realization, and it's always uncomfortable to realize you haven't been acting in a manner consistent with your values, but because you're an adult, you tolerate that discomfort, recognize the behaviors you want to change, apologize, and move on.

except...... I wasn't feeling just that healthy discomfort. it was also something else. and what made it worse was that my dom didn't think I had done anything wrong, and at first, I thought I was fine. I assumed it was just the healthy discomfort, so I waited for it to fade on its own over time.

slowly, the situation changed from "I would like to be more supportive" to "I have been so selfish and I've been constantly asking for support and I'm a terrible person and ze must be angry with me for not being as supportive as I think I should be."

and then it became "ze is angry with me but won't tell me and I don't know how to make this better."

so that was when I realized I might be a little off base because that is not what ze is like lol and we had played recently and ze had been as just as amazing as always, everything has been wonderful, nothing had felt different. so something was off.

I decided to broach the topic again, and as I was communicating all of this, I realized:

lmao oh shit I feel like I'm walking on eggshells and waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting to be punished (like, in a bad way, not a fun consensual way because punishment play could never be fun for me and I will never consent to it) by this person who I love and am close to and wishing for some kind of punishment just so I won't be waiting constantly for it. that's ✨trauma✨. that's not how things have ever worked in this relationship I am having at 29. that's how things worked when I lived with and talked to my family.

it made me doubly grateful that I had been so careful and discerning when deciding to be with my dom. when I have that walking on eggshells feeling, I can't guarantee I wouldn't do something I was uncomfortable with, just to make things right. but that's not something I have to worry about because ze doesn't give orders and would never ask me to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.

power exchange is risky, no matter what role you choose to play. when you have experienced childhood trauma, the risk increases exponentially. power exchange changes a relationship. even when we're not playing and we're just people, I am incredibly sensitive to my dom's behavior towards me. I wouldn't be this sensitive if we didn't practice kink because I wouldn't be as vulnerable.

and if my dom was truly angry with me, if I felt like I was no longer in hir good graces, if I felt like ze no longer wanted me? that would fucking hurt in a way I don't think many people would understand. because it wouldn't just be an argument or something. I consistently bear my soul to this person. I have never trusted another human being like this. I have given myself to hir.

I always say kink is play and that people need to stop taking it so seriously. and this remains true. it doesn't have to be a whole thing with all the bells and whistles. protocols are unnecessary unless you want to play with them. doms have no inherent right to my respect whatsoever.

but just because it's play doesn't mean it doesn't matter. yes, it's play, it's make believe, my partner doesn't actually own me because you can't own people, and it's just stuff we do for fun when we feel like it.

but the emotional stakes are real. the potential for harm is very real. if you have lived through childhood trauma and you want to do kink on the sub side of things, you need to know yourself well enough to be able to communicate your needs to your partner. you need to be able to communicate when shit like this happens.

awareness and communication is how you avoid sabotaging your relationships because you're trying to keep yourself safe. you keep yourself safe by knowing when it's trauma talking and not your realistic view of the situation at hand. you keep yourself safe by telling your partner what you're feeling and giving them the necessary context. you don't have to give details, but you do need to give context because that helps them understand and it gives them the tools they need to take better care of you and keep you safe.

it's not easy, but it's necessary if you want to be able to engage in kink in an ethical way. your dom can't take care of you if you don't tell them what they need to know. your dom can't give you what you need if you don't tell them. unexpected things happen, of course, and people make mistakes along the way and that's normal and fine, and your needs can change over time, and you learn more about yourself as time goes on because that's part of being a person.

but as a rule, you have to know yourself and you have to know what you need, and you have to give this information to your partner. you have to be willing to address issues as soon as they come up. issues might seem small at first, but it's better to have a conversation now rather than later. if you wait or don't fully air everything out, resentment can build.

again, this isn't always easy, and it's okay if it feels hard. but you still have to do it.

it might feel like a lot of work at first, but doing that work now when everything is fresh is better than watching your dynamic fall apart. it's work worth doing if you're in a dynamic you want to stay in. and part of being a human is learning to give other people chances to surprise you. I'm not talking about letting toxic people back into your life. I'm talking about giving partners a chance to give you what you need, and they can only do that if you tell them what you need and how to give it to you.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 12

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Watch me forget to update again last week, whoops.  This is also the final chapter of this ‘arc’, so we’ll be taking another break for a while because uni means I don’t have time to keep writing at the moment (and a certain character is being awkward in the next chapter).  Still, I hope you’ve enjoyed this pile of Scott&Other-Gordon, and I’ll get back to work on this when I’ve got the time.

For now, enjoy!

<<<Chapter 11

The subject wasn’t broached until they were back in the car, Scott feeling comfortably full as the food settled in his stomach.

“I guess there’s nothing I can say to persuade you to finish the trip now?” Other-Gordon sighed.

“I’m not quitting,” Scott said firmly.  “It’s just some sneakers.  I’ll try them on, find the ones that fit best, and we’ll be done.”

He half expected Other-Gordon to contradict him and tell him something was different about buying shoes in this universe, but he didn’t.

“That’s the spirit,” he said instead.  “I’ll keep them talking, like the last shop.”

“Thanks.”  Scott appreciated the thought; if they were distracted with Other-Gordon, then they’d be focusing less on him.

He was looking forwards to being able to wear comfortable shoes. Other-Scott’s fit well enough, but after several hours in them he was starting to feel the rub of an unfamiliar style.

“Mr Tracy!” he was greeted as they stepped through the door upon arrival. “Is there a problem with your last purchases?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Other-Gordon cut in, inserting himself slightly ahead of Scott and into the flustered-looking man’s line of sight. “You’ll have to forgive Scott, he’s gone and lost his voice, but he really liked them, so we’re here to get a couple more pairs,” he assured them.

The fluster turned to relief and then delight as the man no doubt realised he was going to be making another expensive sale to round off his day.

“Of course!” he beamed.  “If you’d like to follow me.”  They were chivvied along to a section of the shop lined with various designs of sneakers all along the wall, which Scott immediately started to eye up.  The designs were varied, and none of them looked exactly like he was used to, but he could definitely see a few that looked hopeful.

Ignoring both Other-Gordon and the salesman, he walked over to the wall to get a closer look.  You’re Scott Tracy.  He just had to take the initiative instead of hovering awkwardly and waiting for a cue, and then it would be fine.

No-one would suspect he was the wrong Scott Tracy.

Behind him, Other-Gordon was talking a mile a minute, playing the distraction he’d promised, and after the day they’d had it was almost effortless to trust him.  The other man had proven time and time again that despite the bizarre nature of the situation, he cared and wanted Scott to be as comfortable as possible.

It wasn’t even a case of just trying to preserve his brother’s reputation. Just as he was Scott Tracy, Other-Gordon was Gordon Tracy.  They might not be each other’s brother, but they didn’t need to be related to care. The man that had guided him out of two panic attacks and subtly grounded him at the first sign of other ones had done it because he cared about him.

Scott was used to being the rescuer.  He was used to being the one picking up strangers, helping them find their feet and offering whatever aid was needed until they were safe.  He’d never been so thoroughly on the other side before.  It was terrifying, he realised as he picked up a hopeful looking sneaker for a closer inspection.  Putting all your trust in someone you knew of but didn’t know was much, much harder than he’d ever realised.

What Other-Gordon was doing for him wasn’t quite the same – his life wasn’t in danger; he didn’t need snatching from the jaws of death – but the parallels were there.  Scott was lost, and there was no denying that he was scared of what had happened, why it happened, what it would be doing to his brothers right then, and Other-Gordon was offering a life line.  Something he could cling to while he found his feet, and caught him when he stumbled.

“Scott?” the man in question asked, appearing beside him.  “How are you doing?”

Scott looked at him, the heart-achingly familiarity of his face even though it wasn’t the same, and the searching amber eyes that were exactly the same, right down to the concern shining through, and nodded. He’d only known him for a few hours, but Scott trusted him, and that was enough to keep what-ifs and concerns about recognition at bay.

He could do this.

The sneaker in his hand looked like a good start, so he held it up, drawing attention to the selection.

“Would you like to try that pair on, sir?” the salesman asked.  Scott nodded confidently, and handed it over so he could bustle over to the store room to retrieve its partner.

Other-Gordon didn’t say anything, even after they were left alone, so Scott continued looking around, searching for another design that looked hopeful. He could feel the other man’s eyes watching him, but he wasn’t asking if he was doing okay, or attempting to provide other reassurances, and Scott wondered if he could tell that he was, as much as he could be, relaxed.

He probably could.

By the time the salesman returned – this one called John, it transpired, but with black hair and brown eyes it was just another man with a common name, and not a painful reminder of his younger brother – he’d found another three to try on.

Four times pacing and then jogging around the room, jumping up and down and feeling a rush from being active, even if it was just rather aggressively putting through sneakers through their paces, and he ended up walking out the shop with all of them.  It was easier than picking two when they all felt right.

There was also the nagging feeling that Other-Scott didn’t test shoes quite the same way he did, judging by the look on salesman-John’s face, and the panic had started to bubble up when he abruptly remembered that Other-Scott had only been there recently.  Grabbing all four pairs and nudging Other-Gordon into paying for them so that they could leave – a nudge that, yes, might have comprised of four smaller ones that instantly sharpened amber eyes – had been the easiest way to avoid questions and quell the panic.

Other-Gordon didn’t outwardly hurry them out of the shop, but Scott felt the underlying determination as he quipped about getting late and the flight home as an excuse for their departure.  The amount of money the quartet of sneakers cost definitely went a long way towards distracting the salesman from anything else.

“Are you okay?” the ginger asked once they were settled back in the car. He didn’t mention that Scott had been fine for most of the time, but the unspoken observation hung between them.

Scott took a deep breath and pressed his head back against the headrest, feeling the hat digging in.  He was looking forwards to taking it off.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I’m okay.”

“Too much cooped up energy?” Other-Gordon asked, clearly determining that he wasn’t about to panic and turning the engine on.  “You were mighty energetic in there.”

“They’re nice sneakers,” Scott defended, not responding to the secondary observation.

“So it seemed,” Other-Gordon shrugged.  “Well, unless there’s anything else you need, I’d say it’s time to head back to the airport.”

Scott glanced at the backseat of the car, where a small pile of bags nestled.

“That should be enough,” he agreed.  “I don’t suppose I can persuade you to let me pilot back?”

Other-Gordon did a double-take.

“What happened to ‘different technology’?” he asked.  “You’ve not understood anything here.  I saw you looking at the car earlier.”

Scott shrugged.  “Apparently the only thing that is the same are plane controls,” he admitted.

Other-Gordon groaned.  “You mean you actually were judging my piloting?” he whined.

“I didn’t say anything about your piloting,” Scott defended.  Other-Gordon huffed.

“You didn’t need to, but I figured you were just comparing it to what you were used to,” he said.  “It didn’t occur to me that you knew exactly what I should have been doing when.”

“So you’ll let me pilot back?” Scott tried hopefully.

“Sorry, fella.”  He couldn’t stop his shoulders slumping in disappointment at Other-Gordon’s firm answer. “Look, I would rather you piloted, because I’m not daft enough to think you’re not better at it than me, but you don’t have a pilot’s license here, and it’s not my call whether you sneak by on Scott’s.”

The argument made a frustrating amount of sense, and Scott sighed. “Can’t we ask him?”

“He’ll say no,” Other-Gordon said confidently.  “Unless you’re telling me you’d let someone pilot on your license with only his word he’s as good as he says.”

The ginger, annoyingly, wasn’t wrong.  Scott wouldn’t.

“We can add it to the things to talk to him about when we get back,” Other-Gordon pointed out.  “Still, if planes aren’t so different, maybe that’ll make the training easier.”

He had a point.  Scott hadn’t considered that the Thunderbirds might have the same controls, when the jargon seemed so different.  “I saw a few external differences,” he said.  “Didn’t get a good look at the cockpit, and her engine makes a different sound.”

“Why aren’t I surprised you took all that in?” the ginger asked rhetorically. “Then again, I suppose in a way she’s ‘yours’,” he mused.  “Good luck fighting Scott for her.”

Scott groaned, well aware that no matter how good a pilot he proved to be, he was never going to wrangle primary pilot of this universe’s Thunderbird One.

“I don’t think I’ll bother,” he muttered.  “He won’t give her over unless he has no other choice.”

“Voice of experience?” Other-Gordon asked, amused.  Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“The last time I let Gordon near her he tried to turn her into a submarine. Virgil hates piloting her, Kayo is banned from going near the pilot seat, John prefers being a passenger in Two if he’s down from orbit and Alan’s too inexperienced,” he listed. “No-one pilots my girl except me. No exceptions.”

Other-Gordon laughed.  “That doesn’t surprise me; Scott’s the same,” he confirmed.  “But who’s Kayo?”

Scott had forgotten he hadn’t mentioned Kayo to anyone except Tin-Tin yet.

“My Tin-Tin,” he said.  “She’s a hell of a pilot, but her ‘bird gets damaged even more than Three.  Too many stunts.”

“Hold up.”  Other-Gordon even raised a hand to emphasise his words.  “Her ‘bird?  Do you have six or- but Three?  No, you said more than Three.  Who pilots Three?”

That was entirely too many questions, and Scott dodged most of them.

“Tin-Tin doesn’t have her own?” he asked in return.  “I know she’s an engineer, but so’s Virgil.”

“Tin-Tin co-pilots Three sometimes, but otherwise she stays on the island,” Other-Gordon told him.  “Your- Kayo goes out?”

They think we’re delicate flowers, Tin-Tin had more-or-less said. Scott hadn’t made the connection with participating on rescues.

“I get the feeling Kayo would give you all a heart attack if you ever met her,” he said.  “There’s no stopping that girl when she gets an idea in her head.”

He should know.  He’d tried. It normally ended in shouting matches and her doing whatever she wanted anyway.  Sometimes he wondered if building Thunderbird Shadow for her had been a mistake, but then he remembered how miserable she’d been without her own reliable transport.

Other-Gordon eyed him.  “There’re more differences than technology and fashion, aren’t there?”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed.  “I haven’t decided if more is the same or different yet.  Most of it seems to be small things.  Just enough to be off from what I’m used to.”

“Like us,” Other-Gordon sighed.  “Sounds like we were too hasty with this trip,” he added.  “Even if you needed new underpants.”

Scott shrugged.  “We were never going to know all the differences.”  He wouldn’t have thought to ask about the minor details, and none of them had even considered that the family business – the actual one – would have a different name.

“I guess that’s true,” Other-Gordon conceded.  “But we should still have given you a little longer than a few hours before taking you off the island.  Sorry about that.”

He wasn’t wrong, but, “what’s done is done,” he said.  “I survived.”

“Get yourself straight in the Ladybird when we get to the hangar,” Other-Gordon said.  “If anyone tries to get in your way, ignore them.  I’ll get Scott to soothe any ruffled feathers later.”

“I can handle it,” Scott protested.  “Jones, right?”

“You don’t have to handle it,” Other-Gordon told him firmly.  “It’s been mighty awful day for you, and the last thing you need is Scott’s airfield buddies bothering you.  Those fellas know Scott better than anyone else we’ve seen today.”

Scott had almost forgotten that.  Other-Gordon was right; returning to the Ladybird was when someone was most likely to notice something wasn’t right.  The sandwiches from earlier felt uncomfortably weighty in his stomach all of a sudden.

He couldn’t afford a panic attack in the hangar; Other-Gordon wouldn’t be able to take off, so they wouldn’t be able to get away from Other-Scott’s so-called ‘airfield buddies’.

It would be an absolute disaster.

“Okay,” he agreed.  “But I’m not leaving you to load her alone.”

Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.  “Maybe it’s different where you’re from, but here we have valets for that sort of thing.  Appearances and all that – although Dad’s got them trained to be extra vigilant if it’s me. They won’t let me pick up a single bag, just you watch.”

Other-Gordon’s back hadn’t even occurred to him, but if even his family were treating him like glass, Scott supposed it was no surprise there was hired help to stop him straining himself.

“I don’t know how you stand it,” he admitted.

“Aw, it’s not always so bad,” Other-Gordon admitted.  “Helps with the cover.  No-one would expect poor, crippled former Olympian me of still being an active aquanaut, let alone be capable of pulling the stunts those fine young men in International Rescue manage.”

That was true, Scott supposed.

“Look,” the ginger said.  “If it makes you feel better, you can run through her pre-flights while I’m dealing with the chaps on the ground.”

Scott startled.  “You trust me to do that without supervision?”

“I know you were watching me when we left the island,” Other-Gordon shrugged. “I figure if you do come across something unfamiliar, you’re not daft enough to let me take off without getting it double-checked it first.”

Scott could accept that.

“Besides, no-one’ll find that strange around here.  It’ll look more strange if Scott Tracy isn’t doing all the checks himself.”

“You could have just said that in the first place,” Scott pointed out. Other-Gordon scoffed, but said nothing.

Jones wasn’t amongst the men that seemed to be waiting for them when Other-Gordon rolled the car up behind the hangar.  Scott supposed his shift was over for the day, and in a way that made it easier to reluctantly leave the car and head straight for the hangar.  The T.A. was a beacon, and once the door opened, the red of the Ladybird stood out amongst the many planes housed inside.

“Hey, Scott!” an unfamiliar voice called.  He ignored them, remembering what Other-Gordon had said about them all knowing Other-Scott and knowing he couldn’t handle trying to interact with any of them without the ginger to act as a buffer without making them suspicious.

Pre-flight checks.  Those, he could do.

He slipped into the cockpit, taking the pilot’s seat for the moment although Other-Gordon was doubtless going to shove him over when he arrived, and immersed himself in the blessed familiarity of flicking switches and running all the checks that had long since become second nature to him.  While the Ladybird was a far cry from Thunderbird One, she wasn’t so far from more conventional aircraft that he couldn’t work her out.

Engrossed in the task, he barely noticed the ground crew flitting around as their shopping was loaded into the cargo hold under Other-Gordon’s supervision, or the questions about him being fired the ginger’s way, only to be expertly deflected.

He did notice the jab in his shoulder when Other-Gordon clambered up to join him.

“Finished?” the ginger asked.  Scott ran his hands over the controls one last time, before reluctantly pronouncing himself satisfied.

“She’s good to fly,” he said.

“Then budge over,” Other-Gordon retorted.  Scott reluctantly shimmied over into the passenger seat. “Everything’s fine?”

“Just like our training jet at home,” Scott promised.  “I taught Alan to fly with controls like this.”  He glanced over at the ginger settling himself into the pilot’s seat.  “Gordon, too.”

“You’re calling the Ladybird a training jet?” Other-Gordon asked.  “I’d like to see you tell Tin-Tin that.”

Scott chuckled.  “Anything’s a training jet compared to my usual ride,” he pointed out.

Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.  “I’d like to see you tell Virgil that.”

“His girl’s not a jet,” Scott retorted.  “Not unless that’s got a very different definition here.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Other-Gordon conceded, before reaching for the radio.  “Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control.  We’re ready for take-off, over.”

Static crackled for a moment.

“Auckland Air Traffic Control to Tango Alpha Ladybird,” the radio responded. “Clear to proceed to runway three-bravo, over.”

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control.  Understood.  Proceeding now, over.”  The hangar door opened and Other-Gordon taxied them out onto the tarmac.  Scott occupied himself with looking out at the other planes as they travelled past.  Some designs were instantly familiar, while others looked very different to anything he’d seen in his own universe.

Other-Gordon made a few more calls over the radio as they finished taxiing into position, and Scott settled back in the seat comfortably as they waited for permission to take off.

He had to admit he didn’t miss all the bureaucracy with Thunderbird One, and John acting as his ATC wherever he was in the world.  VTOL launches helped.

After another half a minute or so, the all-clear was given, and the Ladybird rumbled to life, surging forwards and up under Other-Gordon’s hands.

“Auckland Air Traffic Control to Tango Alpha Ladybird, your route is clear,” the radio crackled again.  “Have a safe flight.  Over.”

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control,” Other-Gordon replied. “Thank you.  Over and out.”  He fiddled with the radio for a moment.  “Ladybird to Tracy Island, come in.”

“Tracy Island receiving you, Ladybird,” Not-Dad’s voice filtered through. “How’s it going, Gordon?”

“We’ve just left Auckland, Father,” the ginger said.  “Estimated ETA in two hours.”

“I’ll let your grandmother know,” Not-Dad replied.  “You boys didn’t have any problems?”

“No, sir,” Other-Gordon said, to Scott’s relief.  “No problems.”

“Well, I expect to hear about your trip when you get back,” the man told them.  “I’ll see you then.  Tracy Island out.”

“Thanks,” Scott said after the connection ended.

“I’m still telling Scott,” Other-Gordon reminded him.  “But you can thank me by not judging my piloting the whole way back.  Stare at the clouds or something.”

Scott chuckled.  “I’ll do my best,” he said.  Other-Gordon just groaned.

“I am never piloting you anywhere ever again,” he swore.  “Cloud watch.  Don’t you dare look at what I’m doing.”

Scott rolled his eyes but obliged.

Like the outward journey, their return one passed in mostly silence, Other-Gordon focusing on piloting and Scott doing his best not to make idle comments whenever he didn’t react to changes in the air currents the same way he would.

He liked to think he was successful at it.  The aquanaut would no doubt disagree.

“I can still feel you judging me,” Other-Gordon grumbled eventually. Scott wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it seemed like they should be nearly there.

Up ahead was a small, rocky island.  It looked utterly unfamiliar, but Other-Gordon was straight on course for it.

“Home sweet home,” the aquanaut commented when he caught him looking at it. “The same?”

“The only similarity is that it’s volcanic,” Scott answered.  “Ours has twin peaks, to start with.”  This Tracy Island seemed to have some sort of plateau mountain, rather than the jagged peaks he was used to.  It also seemed less like it was making up part of the lip of a caldera.

“That’s interesting,” Other-Gordon hummed.  “Your house is nothing like ours either, is it?”

Considering he’d needed a map to find Other-Scott’s room earlier, Scott thought that was rather obvious.

“Not at all,” he said.  “Even the pool’s a different shape.  Ours is a regular Olympic-size pool.”

“Really?” Other-Gordon asked.  “I suppose that makes it easier to retract, though.  Easier to pilot through, too?”

“If I ever get the chance to compare, I’ll let you know,” Scott replied. Other-Gordon laughed.

“I should let them know we’re on approach,” he said, reaching for the radio again.  “Ladybird to Tracy Island.”

“Tracy Island receiving you, Ladybird.”  It was Other-Scott on the line this time.  “You’re clear to land.”

“F.A.B., Scott,” Other-Gordon acknowledged.

“How much damage control have you left me with?” Other-Scott continued. “Dad says you said there were no issues?”

“I’ll give you the run-down once we’re down,” the aquanaut told him. “There was paparazzi.”

“If I don’t like what they publish, you’d better watch your back, Gordon,” Other-Scott warned.  “I’ll meet you two in the hangar.  Tracy Island out.”

“Well, no sense in putting it off,” Other-Gordon commented as the line went dead.  “You want to hang around for the debrief?”

Scott shook his head, having no wish to stand around and listen to an account of what he’d already lived through.  “Just him,” he reminded.  “I’ll get changed while you do.”

“You finally get to change underwear,” the ginger commented, and Scott rolled his eyes.  “Coming up on the landing now.”

Sure enough, there was the runway, protruding out onto a pier and lined with palm trees.  Definitely Thunderbird Two’s runway, and now that they were approaching it, Scott could see the cragged rockface that no doubt moved somehow to reveal the giant cargo plane.  A little way up was a white building, built into the cliff.

He filed that away to ask about later, not wanting to interrupt the aquanaut as he brought them down onto the tarmac with a slight bump, decelerating until they were taxiing towards an open hangar door.  It wasn’t quite central to the runway, further cementing Scott’s conclusion that Thunderbird Two was just behind the cliff face.

To his relief, Other-Scott seemed to be alone, standing next to the blue beauty he’d spotted earlier, as Other-Gordon brought the Ladybird to a stop and started the post-flight checks.  Wherever the rest of the family were, it didn’t seem like they’d planned a welcoming committee, at least.

“So?” the older man asked once they left the cockpit, already at the cargo hold and looking at the bags.  “Dad seems convinced everything went fine, but you didn’t tell him about the paparazzi, did you?”  He was clearly talking to Other-Gordon, but his eyes flicked to Scott.

Scott shrugged and reached past him for the bags.  “Gordon’ll give you the run-down,” he said.  “I’m getting changed.”

“Don’t forget the underpants!” Other-Gordon chirped at him.  He rolled his eyes and walked away, but not fast enough to avoid overhearing the start of the conversation.  “I’m sworn to silence to everyone except you, and you’re only the exception because he’s your clone, so don’t even think about telling anyone,” the ginger said, quietly but not so quietly Scott couldn’t hear while he waited for the elevator to swallow him up.  “Which definitely includes Dad, by the way, but-”

The elevator doors clanged shut, cutting off the conversation.  Scott jabbed the button labelled second, which was also the highest option, so he assumed that was the bedroom level.

It was, and to Scott’s private delight there was no-one in the landing, so he managed to slip past the door to the lounge – out of which piano music seemed to be coming – and into the guest room designated as his without being intercepted.

Once there, he upended the bags over the bed, letting the neatly-wrapped parcels of clothes fall out haphazardly, before picking up clothes to get changed into.

It was a relief to finally get out of the waistcoat, shirt and slacks belonging to his counterpart, and even more of a relief to find himself wearing something that much more closely resembled his idea of casual.

Setting the discarded clothes to one side, he rummaged through the rest of the new clothes and set about hanging them up in the closet.  His uniform was where he’d left it, he was pleased to see. No doubt Other-Brains would request it at some point, but Scott intended on supervising his investigations.  It was good that it hadn’t just been taken while he was out.

A knock on the door startled him just as he was hanging the last pair of jeans.

Who would that be?  It could have been anyone on the island – although he suspected Other-Alan might be less inclined to seek him out, and Other-Gordon would probably announce himself, if he didn’t walk straight in.

It was honestly weird having anyone knock rather than just walk in. His brothers had long since stopped waiting to be invited in, although Virgil and John did at least announce themselves with a knock most of the time.

“It’s me.  Can I come in?”

Other-Scott.

Scott supposed he should have expected that one.  Did he want to talk to his doppelgänger?  Most of the island’s residents he could probably predict how the conversation was going to go, but ironically, Other-Scott seemed to be the hardest to read.

He guessed it was because he had no idea how he’d react if things were the other way around, and Other-Scott had ended up in his universe.

His gut told him he probably wouldn’t give up trying to have a conversation if he was going out of his way to initiate it.

“Yeah,” he called back, closing the closet door.  The door opened and Other-Scott walked in, closing it behind him.

“Is that what you wear at home?” he asked, blue eyes scanning the clothes Scott had changed into.

“As close as I could get,” Scott shrugged, sitting on the bed next to Other-Scott’s discarded clothes and folding them up, mostly for something to do with his hands.

“Dad’s not going to approve,” Other-Scott warned him.  “But if it makes you more comfortable, I don’t see the problem.” He picked up the hat and discarded sunglasses.  “You’ll have to stay out of sight whenever we have visitors anyway, so no-one’s going to see you.”

There was an awkwardness about the other man that Scott thought was uncharacteristic of himself, until he realised it was the same awkwardness he was feeling, because there were no guidelines in any training he’d undergone about how to interact with an alternate universe version of yourself.

“Are you checking up on me?” he asked abruptly.  It made sense if he was, after getting Other-Gordon’s account of the day, and Scott thought they’d do a lot better if they stopped trying to test the waters.

From the quirk of Other-Scott’s lips, it was a shared opinion.

“I heard what happened,” he confirmed.  “Gordon was adamant you don’t want anyone else to know, and I can understand that.”  He sighed. “This is weird,” he said, and Scott gave a wry smile in agreement.  “And maybe, considering you’re literally another me, I’m not the best person to talk to, but.  I’m here. If you have questions, or want sane conversation.”

“After a day with Gordon, sane conversation is sorely lacking,” Scott quipped, and Other-Scott laughed.

“I owe him a billiards match or ten now,” he said.  “Remind him he can’t actually beat me.”

“Little brothers,” Scott shrugged.  “Give them an inch, they’ll take a mile.”

“Some things don’t change wherever you are,” Other-Scott agreed. “Gordon said you recognised the Ladybird’s controls?”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed.  “We’ve got a plane like that at home.”

“I’ll talk with Dad about taking you for a flight,” Other-Scott said. “Once we’ve established how much is familiar, we can figure out anything else.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Scott agreed.  Other-Scott grinned.

“I wonder which one of us is the better pilot,” he said.  “I’m looking forward to seeing you fly.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Scott.  “Best pilot gets primary dibs for Thunderbird One?” he dared.

Other-Scott laughed.  “If it’s my ‘bird on the line, I’m not going to go easy on you,” he warned.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Scott replied, and they both laughed.

“Well, I’m going to go teach Gordon a lesson or ten now,” Other-Scott said. “You’re welcome to join us if you’re not sick of his company by now.”

Scott chuckled.  “I’d like to see that,” he said.  “He might be better at chess, but if he’s anything like mine, billiards is not so much his territory.”  He stood up, gathering the dirty clothes.  “Where’s the laundry room?  Might as well drop these off.”

“I’ll show you,” Other-Scott said, opening the door again and stepping into the hallway.  “It’s next to the games room.”  Scott followed him, letting the door close behind him.

Chapter 13>>>

[mopeytropey]

skip the beer, pour the whiskey 

a beer buds series: chapter 7 (or as @orangeyouglad8 and I have coined it: The Separation)

Available on AO3 at the link above or below the cut: 

Timeline: The Separation -- this falls within the span of time during which Clarke and Lexa were not speaking as they dealt with the fallout of having crossed a major boundary in their friendship (chapter 5 of 'apu'). Lexa has the sads and Lincoln, as always, is lovely.

Beer: glass of bourbon on the rocks  ::: Lexa is awash in contradictions.

She tends to find indecisiveness in others frustrating; recognizing the trait in herself is intolerable.

She has suffered this recent truth about herself for months—feeling inept at choosing a path and toeing a line between a dual existence.

Loyalty. Truth. Stay. Leave. Costia. Clarke.

In the absence of Clarke, she is further paralyzed. Lexa has spent the better part of November wallowing in the consequences of her inaction. Obstinate loyalty has caused her to lose Clarke, leaving her tethered to Costia by her own hand.

In a cruel twist, Costia spends more time at home, worrying over Lexa’s wellbeing while her students prepare for their finals during the early weeks of December. The extra care and concern, brief hugs and soft looks, only makes Lexa feel worse.

She’s agreed to Lincoln cooking her another meal, in a moment of weakness, and each step she takes towards his apartment is heavy with regret. She doesn’t wish to see friendly, familiar faces. She doesn’t deserve their kindness. Not even the prospect of time spent in Lincoln’s company has sounded appealing in the last month. Lexa has been hermitting away for weeks—mourning the loss of Clarke’s friendship and throwing herself a spectacular pity party.

At first, it was merely Clarke’s shift in tone. She had turned stringent, detached, employing the professional air of a work colleague. Her responses to Lexa’s texts lost all their effusive flair, cooling by degrees until they ended entirely. The message was clear: Lexa had said too much, showed her hand, and scared Clarke away.

“Hey.” Lincoln answers the door with a meager smile. Not the bright beam of light that he so often wears in Lexa’s presence but something kind and cautious.

“Hi.”

They engage in a brief, one-arm hug as Lexa crosses the threshold into Lincoln’s warm and fragrant apartment. She holds a peppermint tea in one hand, having stopped for something to keep her warm on her walk. She’s started frequenting a coffee shop closer to her apartment, not purely for convenience but by intention. Avoiding the more familiar shop by the water feels like adhering to some silent set of boundaries that Clarke has put in place.

“It smells good in here,” she tells Lincoln while slipping out of her shoes by the door and setting down her tea to remove her coat and hat.

“Pot roast and potatoes.”

Comfort food.

Lexa finds her smile for the first time in weeks, and Lincoln squeezes a hand to her shoulder before returning to his kitchen. She follows behind with her tea, running her fingers through the curls that have been flattened beneath her winter hat.

When Lexa was newly fostered by Gustus, he’d attempted a welcoming, home-cooked meal. The pot roast was tough and sinewy, the potatoes undercooked and flavorless. Lexa had never felt so utterly cared for, filling her plate no less than three times. Over the years, she, Anya, and Gus—Lincoln too, for how often he would find himself at their kitchen table—worked to improve the recipe together. They studied spice blends, cuts of meat, and countless cooking videos. Even their perpetual culinary failures were communal, familial. Eventually, it evolved into a cherished family favorite that Lexa directly associates with the comfort and safety of home. It remains the one meal her father is capable of preparing with relative success to this day.  

“Thanks for cooking.”

“I’m glad you came over,” Lincoln smiles at her from the stove. He doesn’t say finally, though she feels the implication.

Lincoln has continuously attempted to see her, despite Lexa’s refusal to socialize. Passing conversations at work and random text messages have been their only contact for almost a month, but Lincoln never stopped reaching out to her. She wonders if anything might have gone differently had she not eventually given up on repairing things with Clarke.

When days without contact turned into weeks, Lexa panicked. As the weeks stacked into a month, she lost all hope for restoring her friendship with Clarke.

It’s the space she wants, Lexa keeps telling herself. Further engagement would only push Clarke farther away.

“Can I get you a drink?” Lincoln is already drinking something from a beer glass but opens the fridge as he sips. “Octavia just restocked me with a bunch of shit I haven’t tried yet.”

“Uh, sure. Just … surprise me,” Lexa shrugs.

Incapable of making decisions. Even for the sake of alcohol. Lexa grinds her jaw at her own vacillating shortcomings: infuriating.

“You got it.” Lincoln works on making his selection while Lexa finishes sipping her tea, hoping it will calm her, and deposits her paper cup into the trash bin when she’s through.

“Actually, do you have any whiskey?”

Lincoln is chuckling as he abandons the fridge, leading them out of the kitchen. “Say no more.”

He stops beside a fully stocked drinks cart—mid century design of stained walnut with dull, brassy rails and casters. Lexa recognizes it immediately. “Is this the same cart from your moms’ house?” She runs a finger along one of the slender rails while examining its well-preserved design.

“Yep. The one thing I was allowed to take with me when I moved up here,” Lincoln grins proudly.

Lexa can feel the ghost of another smile. “I’m surprised Alice allowed it.”

“She practically wept when we loaded it onto the moving truck, but you know Rosa has a hard time saying no to her mijo.” His beaming smile returns, dimples and all, and Lexa rolls her eyes.

“It is an exceptional piece of furniture.”

“I swore to care for it like a firstborn child.”

Lexa smiles again, examining the bottles of liquor. “They’re still in New York?”

“Oh, moms are never leaving Carol Gardens, you know that. I think that house belonged to Alice’s great grandmother or something.”

Lexa lapses into fond memories of Lincoln’s childhood home—a stark difference from the foster families and group homes he’d previously survived in his younger years. Rosa and Alice were generous, kind, and gracious caretakers from the start. Eager to become parents and intent on making Lincoln feel safe and supported, they never gave up in spite of his ingrained mistrust. Their unconditional love and acceptance had been so unexpected and surreal, Lincoln spent the first six months of his stay with them waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That party you threw over winter break freshman year.” Lexa smiles fondly at the recollection.

“Oh my god, I was grounded for an eternity.”

“Anya and I were afraid to show our faces for weeks after that.”

Lincoln tsks her recollection and rolls his eyes. “As if you two could ever do wrong in their eyes.”

“Did you go back for Thanksgiving?”

Lincoln uncharacteristically balks, his gaze falling to the collection of liquor bottles that sit on the drinks cart. “Uh, no. I’m taking O to New York for a few days after Christmas so she can meet Alice and Rosa, but we, uh, we went to—Octavia never really spends holidays with her family because she prefers the Griffins, you know, and we usually all just go to, uh—”    

He can’t even bring himself to utter her name, and it still feels like a punch to Lexa’s sternum.

“You can say her name,” Lexa tries for nonchalance, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets and smiling unsurely as she furthers the lie: “I’m not going to break apart or anything.”

“Right.” Lincoln clears his throat. “Anyway, Clarke hosts this little friends’ gathering every year at her place. You know how she likes to cook.”

“Right.” Lexa nods swiftly, trying desperately not to think about all of the other wonderful things about Clarke that make her disproportionately likable, not least of all her passion for food.

“How was your holiday? You were with Costia’s aunt?”

“Yes.” Her entire body feels rigid; a forced exhale does little to ease the tension. “It was … nice. Her aunt and uncle are great people.”

“Well, we missed you.” He offers hopefulness that Lexa doesn’t dare cling to. “Next year.”

She swallows roughly, unable to conjure a valid response, and hoists a bottle from the top tray of Lincoln’s cart. “I’ll try this one.”

Lincoln’s guarded smile is back, and Lexa wishes she weren’t the cause of it. “Let me get you some ice.” He reaches to a lower shelf for a glass. “Unless you want it neat?”

“No, I’ll take some ice. Thank you.”

Lincoln leaves her for the kitchen just as Gus emerges from the bedroom with a yawning stroll towards the couch. She is a giant ball of elegant, grey fur. Lexa follows her movements and plops onto a sofa cushion just as Gus leaps gracefully atop the armrest opposite.

“Are you keeping your distance now too?”

Gus watches her for a moment, calculating. It takes only the extension of her hand across the cushion for the cat to approach, nudging her nose into Lexa’s palm a moment later. She feels settled by Gus’s presence instantly. By the time Lincoln returns with her drink, she’s been lulled by loud purring and the downy fur between her fingers.

:::

Dinner is exceptionally prepared, and Lexa feels infinitely better with a full stomach. She and Lincoln talk of New York, and family, and the changing seasons. He’s being careful with her still, avoidant out of kindness and caution, but she knows there are things he wants to say.

On the couch after dinner, with Gus in her lap and a second whiskey sitting on the table beside her, Lexa finally makes a decision. She tells Lincoln the truth.

“I think I scared her off.”

Lincoln practically jolts at his end of the sofa when he realizes what subject Lexa is broaching. He has switched to whiskey as well—in solidarity, he’d said—and the two of them sip quietly for a few moments while Lincoln processes the new information. Lexa tries not to feel like a specimen under a microscope.

“Clarke?” His face creases in thought a moment later when Lexa nods. “That girl does not frighten easily—what makes you think you scared her off?”

“I talked to her about Costia.”

Lincoln’s dark eyes widen by a fraction. “What did you tell her?”

“How we almost broke up in New York. The disconnect I’ve been experiencing since moving up here.” Lexa exhales, feeling a rush at finally airing her admissions. “We were a little drunk.”

“Okay,” Lincoln smiles. “Still, I don’t think that would—”

“And then I sort of fell asleep on her couch … with her.”

She looks up from her lap to see the blatant shock in Lincoln’s gaping jaw and wide eyes. His expression would be priceless and more than a little humorous if she weren’t so anxious and full of regret over her actions.  

“Okay, that might sufficiently freak her out.”

“I know.” Lexa covers her face with both hands, and Lincoln instantly backpedals his reaction.

“No, no wait. Lex, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything wrong.”

“I did. I messed up everything. I haven’t dealt with anything that’s going on with Costia, and Clarke is dating now—”  

“Hey.” Lincoln wraps a hand around one of her ankles where her legs are stretched along the length of the couch, and only then does she pull her hands from her face to look at him. “Listen to me: you did not do anything wrong. I’ve crashed at friends’ houses hundreds of times, so unless you’re telling me that you fell asleep naked …”

Just the sound of that image has Lexa’s stomach bottoming out as she buries her face into the crook of an elbow. “Linc, oh my god. No.”  

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, too proud of himself for having embarrassed her. “In that case, you really haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just—this is Clarke.”

Her eyes drift back to the cat asleep in her lap, and Lexa’s voice softens. “I know.”

“Do you?” Lincoln urges.

Lexa looks up. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

He smiles at her like an older brother might tease his distraught, younger sibling in the middle of an existential crisis. “Just checking.”

“The sleeping part was completely accidental,” Lexa grumbles, her face still cooling from the heated shame of imagining Lincoln’s inquiry while reaching for her drink.

Lincoln shrugs. “Hey, it happens.”

“Not with Clarke it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Lincoln considers her for another moment, sipping at his drink while Lexa fidgets with a seam on her shirt. “What did Costia say when you told her about staying over at Clarke’s?”

“She was glad I was safe—that I didn’t try to walk home or anything.” Lexa exhales and watches for Lincoln’s reaction. “Why?”

“I just think her response is indicative of your relationship. On the one hand, there’s obviously trust there. She’s worried more about your safety than the threat of you sleeping on another woman’s couch.” Lexa can feel her cheeks warm again and takes a sip of her whiskey. “On the other hand,” Lincoln pauses, waiting to catch Lexa’s eye. “Costia’s not an idiot either.”

There it is.  

The truth (or at least an insinuation of it) that they have been dancing around for months. Lincoln’s gaze is not unkind but unrelenting in forcing her to confront her own culpability.

“I know.” Lexa thinks her voice has never sounded so small.

“You guys ever have that talk after DC?”

“No.”

Their intentions had been good. But in the end, they had been hindered by Costia’s schedule going into finals and Lexa taking on new responsibilities through Trikru. By the time they caught up with each other again, Clarke was gone and Lexa couldn’t see anything beyond the shape of her absence.

“I don’t even know if it’s worth it at this point,” she continues. “Who’s to say the same results wouldn’t keep happening again in relationships with other people?” Lexa bites at her lip, deepening the furrow in her brow. “What if the real problem is just me?”

“Hey, don’t say that shit about one of my best friends.”

Lexa finally makes eye contact to see Lincoln’s warm gaze looking back at her. Reassurance floods in even amidst all her surging self doubt.

“Deciding to be with someone shouldn’t be about calculated risk.” He rubs a hand across his abdomen, smiling fondly in contemplation. “You either feel it, or you don’t.”

“Feelings continuously shift and change—they’re an unreliable barometer.”

“Not always,” Lincoln challenges. “Sometimes you get that kick behind your ribs while in someone’s presence. Or, you feel that persistent pressure against your back, pushing you towards someone—you have to give those feelings some weight if it’s more than a fleeting impulse.”

She’s had similar debates with herself a million times, always ending up at the same conclusion. “I had all of those same feelings with Costia. And, look what’s happened to us.”

He tips his glass in Lexa’s direction. “Okay, sure. And, if those feelings have faded, doesn’t that warrant some consideration too?”  

“I don’t … I don’t trust myself to make the right decision.”

It might be the most honest admission she’s had in months. She’s relieved that Lincoln is her confidante when the truth slips out and the reassurance of his soft smile returns.

“You’re always too hard on yourself, Lex. It doesn’t have to be so complicated.”

Lexa responds only by glaring at him spectacularly over the rim of her glass. Teaching herself molecular physics might be less daunting than solving her current relationship dilemma.

“I’m serious!” He defends himself through a laugh. “Okay. For me, it’s just about wanting to spend time with that one person more than anyone else. It’s not always fireworks or these massive heart palpitations, sometimes it’s just preference. Like, I prefer this one person’s company over everyone else, regardless of how long the relationship lasts.”  

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “So it doesn’t matter if you and Octavia don’t last?”

“Oh no, she’s stuck with my ass forever.”

Lexa’s laughter dislodges some of the unease tightening in her chest.

“Honestly though,” Lincoln continues, “if O eventually met someone and felt that same draw that I feel towards her, or struck some connection that she believed would make her happier than I could … I would want her to explore that.”

Lexa watches her friend and resumes stroking her hand atop Gus’s head. “You’re an unbelievably good person, do you know that?”

“You are too, buddy. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Thanks,” Lexa responds softly.

“And, maybe Clarke is sorting through some stuff or taking space to figure out her own shit, but she’s not gone forever, okay? She’ll be back.”

Lexa releases a heavy sigh, wishing she shared Lincoln’s optimism.

In a week, she’ll leave for her holiday in New York. She’ll have the comfort of her father—his monstrous hugs, booming laughter, and mediocre cooking. And, she’ll face Anya, a far more imposing audience than Lincoln or Gus, in the midst of this internalized, romantic crisis. She’s exhausted by her own ambivalence and wishes someone in her life could just give her the right answers.

She wants shared laughter on the warm sand of a deserted beach.

She wants to place a coffee order for someone else and know it by heart.

She wants petty arguments about meaningless things that dissolve into long hugs and gentle apologies.

She wants extravagant brunches and lazy Sunday mornings, shared smiles in crowded rooms and soft touches that speak volumes.    

Her desires are not uncommon. She could likely have these experiences with any number of women. Lexa reconsiders the simplicity of Lincoln’s perspective and dares to hope that a solution to her indecision could be so cut and dry. Because if the answer is preference, her solution is simple.

She doesn’t want these experiences with just anyone. More than anything, she wants them with Clarke.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Episode 2, Part 1

Hello all, here comes the first part of the second episode to Midnight Striga, my Fairy Tail/Owl House crossover fic! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

With a spine-cracking yawn, literally her spine cracked from doing it once, Eda, the Owl Lady of Bonesburough, woke up for another day of living her life of freedom and liberty from Bone-head’s regime. With a tired sigh, idly wondering where she put the Apple Blood, Eda trudged down the stairs. Unusually for her, her mind was exceptionally clear this morning, something that she usually needed at least two to three cups of Apple Blood to fully achieve. In her musings, Eda’s mind turned to her new housemate, and the nearly mind-breaking revelations she had received the day before.

“So, humans can actually use magic, so our whole belief of it coming from the Titan probably has some holes in it, among other things. Heh, wonder how Lily would take all of this?” Eda pondered, for once not shying away from thoughts of her estranged sister. Letting out another yawn, Eda ambled downward, mind languidly scrolling back and forth, trying to figure out what the feeling of differentness was coming from. Just as she was about to give up, something she does gladly if she doesn’t really care about the subject, her nose caught a whiff of something. Honestly, whatever it was, it smelled divine! Inhaling deeply, a surge of alertness rippling through her body, and making a note to ask the kid about that for later, Eda took stock of her surroundings again, finally nailing what had been confusing her.

Her place had been cleaned.

That by itself wasn’t too unusual, despite what some people may believe, Eda is not a slob, and tries to keep things as neat as she alone possibly can, and she regularly used cleaning house as a way to keep herself busy when her boredom was at its worst. But this was different. The walls were scrubbed, her junk (Treasures! She said treasures) had been sorted and organized, which, she admitted, definitely cut back on the amount of space they took up.

Deciding that trudging all the way to the kitchen or living room wouldn’t be able to satisfy her curiosity, Eda called out. “Hey Kid! Did you go through my stuff?”

“Sorry, Miss Eda!! I was a bit too eager to get started, so I kinda, sorta, got everything settled? I hope that’s okay? Is it okay? I hope it’s okay.”

Eda blinked. That… was odd. The kid was rambling, something that definitely seemed at odds with the cool, level-headedness she had displayed prior. Making her way over, she got a look at the girl, her suspicions confirmed. Wide-eyed, with heavy bags, hair an utter mess, clothes mismatched. Luz was a mess; by Eda’s best estimate, she either hadn’t gotten to sleep at all last night, or had gotten up so soon afterwards it made no difference, and had spent the entire time working on the house.

“Kid?” Eda hesitantly broached. “How long have you been up?”

Luz blinked. “All night. I never went to bed, not really. I mean, I tried to sleep, but then my brain started racing, makes sense, whole new world and all, and so much to do, so much to explore, I can finally read my notes and research!! HOW AWESOME IS THAT!! But it was too dark to read, and I didn’t wanna risk waking you up with a light, so I got started on all the junk you’ve got lying around.” She leaned against aforementioned junk, now neatly sorted into manageable stacks, you could actually tell what it was!! 

What Luz was leaning against appeared to be a stack of crystals and devices that had crystals stuck into them. Eda had never really thought about selling them, they didn’t have any of the oddness to them that got her other junk snapped up, but the way Luz was staring so intently at them made Eda feel like she lucked out by holding on to them.

Luz shot forward, an absolutely manic grin stretching across her face. “WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU HAD SO MANY LACRIMAS!?!??!?”

Eda blinked, that feeling of having lucked out screaming through her. She still had no clue what Lacrimas were, but if how Luz was reacting was any indicator, they were something valuable. And she apparently had a LOT of them!! 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Yeah, as much as Eda wanted to cash in on this, it was better to head the kid off while she could, get a little info, than use a sleep spell on her before she did something stupid.

Luz blinked, clearly confused, before responding, slapping a hand to her forehead in realization. “Right, you’d have no clue what that is, different world and all that.” Luz rocked back, her tired eyes clearing some of the crazy out, and gaining some much needed clarity of thought. “Lacrima are basically pure magic condensed into a solid, crystal state. They are used in a lot of ways, but they are typically reserved for high-end stuff, not counting the lower-quality, disposable ones.” She glanced around, getting a better feel of what all she did last night. “I honestly have no clue where or how you got so many, or what the average quality of them all is, but it’s a huge find.” She turned her gaze back to a contemplative Eda. “But that’s not what you actually want to talk to me about, is it?” She mused.

Eda snorted, impressed that the girl had managed to gather her thoughts while as addled as she was. “You’re not wrong, kid. I was gonna ask you to handle my potion deliveries, something I use to keep grub on the table in addition to my stand, but from what I can see, you aren’t in any shape to go off into town.” She arched an eyebrow, almost daring Luz to challenge her. Naturally, Luz obliged.

“Hey, you got nothing to worry about!” She boldly declared, gesturing to the concoction she was currently mixing. “I’m brewing up an energy booster to get me through the day. It’s not my area of study, but I’ve had to make these enough times before to get good results.” She turned a grin towards Eda that under normal circumstances probably would’ve been smug, but just looked sleepy at the moment.

Eda chewed her lip, contemplative. “Okay, if this actually works, you can head out today, but you’ll have to take King with you, just to be safe, got it?” Her snappy tone was undercut by the hint of worry and concern within.

“Yes! Wacked out alternate dimension, here I come!!” Luz cheered, just barely avoiding knocking her mixture to the ground. Putting out a hand to steady it, she carefully spooned out her Pick-Me-Up Potion, patent pending, and deposited the potent mixture directly onto her tongue, wincing at the intensely sour flavor. Any further thoughts were cut off as the Potion started to do its job.

Eda watched, a mix of fascination and disgust playing across her face at the sight before her. The contortions and sounds alone were enough to turn even her stomach, but she couldn’t deny that, when the horrific ordeal was over, Luz certainly looked refreshed and energized. Still, if she never saw THAT again, it would be too soon.

“Ah!” Luz sighed, drawing her arms out in a spine pulling stretch. “Man, that always feels GREAT!!! So, when do I head out?” She asked, oblivious to Eda’s prior disgust.

Shaking off her discomfort, Eda pulled off a grin. “Well, kid, as soon as we get King out of that pile of food,” she gestured to the aforementioned Demon gorging himself on the snacks Luz had prepared in her sleep deprived activity. “You and him can head into Bonesburough to get my potions dropped off and give you a better lay of the land.” Eda finished.

With a beaming grin, Luz rushed over to King, yanking the now frantically squirming demon out of the pile of food, and stood stock still in front of Eda, a gaze shining with excitement burning in her eyes. Getting the hint, Eda rolled her eyes and brought out the sack of potions. Still, Eda couldn’t really fight the grin that cracked at the eagerness of her new tenant.

With a smirk, Eda decided to give the girl a little breather to adjust to her new energy before she headed out. “So kid, before you go running off, is there anything in particular you wanna know about the Isles?” Whatever the kid said, it shouldn’t be too much trouble to deal with.

“Why exactly are you a criminal?” Luz asked steadily, having released King to his meal at Eda’s question.

Oh, so it would be a bit of trouble to answer. With a sigh, Eda dragged her hand down her face. “It’s because I never joined a coven.” At the look of blank incomprehension, Eda decided to head the question off. “And I’m guessing you don’t know what those are, right?”

“You are correct.” Luz knew about Guilds, but whatever a Coven was, it wasn’t anything she’d ever heard of before.

Eda smirked at that, she wondered how the kid would react to what she had to say. “Well, here on the Isles, we follow what’s known as the Coven System. I won’t get into the really complex bits, but the overarching rules are these: firstly, joining a Coven means you can only perform magic that goes with the Coven, secondly, while some exceptions have been made in the past, once you join a Coven, you are stuck with that one for the rest of your life, and finally, joining a Coven is mandatory, and if you don’t join a Coven, you’re branded a criminal and a heretic. A heretic like me, for instance.” She sat back, confident the kid wouldn’t condemn her, but nervous as to how she would react as a whole.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. Luz was utterly still, her eyes shadowed by her hair. Nothing gave any hint as to her thoughts, aside from the tight clenching of her fists. “That. Is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard in my life.” Luz was incensed. What she was hearing was what sounded like one of the most self-serving and oppressive systems she had ever heard of. The only thing she could accurately compare it to was the old system used by the Alvarez Empire, which drafted any and all magic users in the country into their army, whether they liked it or not.

“Trust me kid, you don’t know the half of it.” Eda chuckled bitterly. She couldn’t lie, seeing someone else have that same level of anger at the system was cathartic for her. Who knows, maybe the kid could stir things up around this place?

Luz huffed, her excitement for the day ahead lost in the wake of that wonderful news. “Well now, at least I won’t have to worry about making a good impression with the locals.” Her deadpan comment released a raucous roar of laughter from the Witch across from her.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!! Kid, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Aside from jackasses like Wrath, people around here are pretty chill for the most part.” Eda replied.

Luz was unconvinced. “Ya sure about that?” She asked, crossing her arms, almost challengingly.

Eda grinned. “Yeah, they are; they might freak out about your appearance for a bit, but after a short while, they’ll just stop caring altogether. Any issues are more likely to crop up from elitists and die-hard conformists like Wrath, or people who actively look down on Humans.” Considering just how big Bonesburough was as a whole, Eda was certain the second was more likely to occur than the first, but even that wouldn’t be too common all around.

Luz snorted. “So, my biggest concerns for the near future are the always fun to deal with local racists. Hooray.” The utterly flat reply sent King snorting from his spot by his meal, with Eda joining him a second later.

King decided now was a good time to pipe up. “Eh, they talk a big game, but anyone who actually gives anything about you being a Human is just blowing smoke, or thinks they're bigger than they are.” While Eda would ordinarily point out the fact that King himself regularly thought he was bigger than he was, she internally conceded that he had a point.

King looked up, pondering everything that had happened yesterday. “Luz, you are crazy strong, even by the usual craziness of Bonesburough. Nothing other than the guards can really threaten you in town, and the guards are only a problem because of their magic, and they aren’t that good at using it as a whole, either.” A great and mighty king of demons he may be, but let none say that King was stupid, nor that he was foolish. “Luz, you shook things up on a level that nobody has done in decades.” He turned to the girl, his eyes gleaming. “Things are gonna start changing now because of it, and I wanna be here for that change. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Eda grinned, proud of her oldest charge. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Before King could start boasting, Eda smooshed his fur, sending him into a tizzy as he tried to fix his “luxurious mane,” and turned back to Luz. “I may not have phrased it all that well earlier, but while things may not be smooth-sailing for you, you’ve got more than enough power to handle nearly anything that comes your way. And if need be, you’ve got the Owl Lady herself in your corner!”

Luz grinned softly at the older Witch, eyes slightly teary. “Thanks Eda, that means a lot.” She croaked out. What could she say, they were both being really sweet! Turning back to King, she found he had settled down, and was waiting patiently, for him anyway, by the door, lightly gesturing both to it, and the sack of potions she would be delivering. Getting the message, Luz scooped the sack back up, gave a quick hug to Eda, much to her surprise, and headed out the door, King eagerly trotting behind her.

Eda sighed. “That kid is gonna get into so much trouble… and I won’t be able to see any of it!” She complained. “Hooty… WHAT ARE YOU DOING DRINKING THAT POTION!?!?”

[restlessmaknae]

measure of life

“I wish I could have your will-power,” she mentioned almost in awe, and in that moment, Luda understood that they would never get it. Never.

♦ Characters: uni student!Jin x uni student!OC (Luda)

♦ Genre: psychological, drama, angst, slice of life

♦ Words: 14k

♦ Warning: this story will be about the OC’s eating disorder - specifically anorexia - evolving and her fight with it, so even though there are no numbers mentioned here, eating disorder habits (calorie counting, weighing oneself, hiding in baggy clothes, lying etc) will be mentioned, so please, if you are easily triggered by the topic, do not read the story!

♦ A/N: Although there are fictional parts, a lot of scenes are inspired by my own life since I’ve also been dealing with anorexia myself, but I’ve been in recovery for three years and I’m better than ever! Therefore, I felt like I could do justice to my journey only if I finished writing this story that I started when I was diagnosed. If you or anyone suffer from an eating disorder, please, reach out for help! It will get better, I promise! My ask box is also always open! 💖

When you look in the mirror, who do you see? What do you see? Fat? What about your waistline? Is it correct? Do you think it should look like this? Do you think you should look like this?

They always say that you are not enough. You are not skinny enough. To be precise, you are not skinny. Who has ever told you that you are? No one? That’s right. That’s because nobody would like to lie to you. They would rather let it slide because they don’t want to hurt you.

Are you okay with that? Are you okay with how do you look? No? Then, change! After all, Jaejun even left you because you weren’t skinny. Or at least, not as skinny as your best friend. Or ex-best friend. 

Comparing, hah? What a nasty word! Still, it hurts, doesn’t it? You always knew that she was skinnier than you, she was always more beautiful than you and she was even praised for her pretty features. People even begged her to eat more when you just sat there staring blankly at your empty plate and wondered why nobody had asked you to do the same. Apparently, you never needed those extra calories because everyone knew that you would get fat. They were the ones who couldn’t. There were always people like your best friend who couldn’t gain a single pound even if they ate three times more than you. Not to mention that they could casually eat fatty, unhealthy food while you did your best to avoid it as much as possible. The result couldn’t be seen on you though.

Still, you are the one who’s not enough and you are the one who never once heard in her life that she’s skinny. You try to shrug it off and claim that it’s okay. You are okay with that. But it sucks, right? It does. Every single damn time when she’s munching away on her triple chocolate muffins while you are eating a single apple. Every single time a boy turns around to look at her, totally ignoring your presence. Every single time your friends whine that ’Please, Eunbi, eat more. You are so skinny!’ or ’Please, eat a lot. It won’t hurt, you need it.’ 

It’s like an invisible bullet through your heart. Every single time they fire at you and you can’t help but get weaker and weaker. You grow to hate yourself, your body, your weight. Everything that is you. Because that seems to be your only flaw now; you are a good student, people think that you have the perfect family, and you have never failed anything in your life. You are only flawed when it comes to your appearance.

Now, put an end to this! Change! It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Everyone’s dieting now, you can do it, too. You are strong enough, you can endure it. In the end, you will surely get what you want. Melt that fat and be the one who people call skinny! Dare to wear girly and not baggy clothes. Months from now on, you shouldn’t be afraid to show your figure to the world. You can do it, you can achieve it!

“Yes! I can do it,” she said to the figure in the mirror, frowning constantly at the sight. All she could see was fat, fat and fat. Her thighs were big, her waistline was something that she wouldn’t dare to look at and her cheeks were puffy. She looked at her reflection again, hoping that the picture would change, the flaws would fade away.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. Unbeknownst to her, it was all in her head, the seed of the growing disease was inside of her. It started with her vision. What she saw was not real, yet she believed that it was real.

“I have to do it,” she claimed confidently, throwing one last flinch at that so-called fat body of hers and left the room.

It was the day when it all started. When Choi Luda decided to listen to the intriguing voice in her head and follow its lead. It was a first-class ticket to the Hell of self-hatred.

You are not enough. I need someone better. You know… someone funnier, more easy-going, someone who doesn’t have such a low self-esteem. I know that you don’t do it to irritate others but honestly… after a while, it can get pretty annoying.

Jaejun’s words were still running through her head when she was on the way back to her apartment, resting her head on the cold glass of the window. It was only an hour ago when the boy confessed that he wanted to break up with her and left her at the restaurant where they had previously decided to meet up. She foresaw that something was fishy when they didn’t even order anything and the words had already slipped out of Jaejun’s mouth:

“We need to talk, Luda,” he announced after clearing his throat to get her attention and that’s how all it started. She didn’t know how long he talked but she knew that he completely broke her heart. Not once, not twice, multiple times.

It started with the fact that he found it annoying that she always refused to go to a fast-food restaurant when he asked her out. It wasn’t because she hated fast food – at that time, she could still stand the thought of eating a burger and chips – but she was fond of old school dates with watching movies at each other’s flats, going to the amusement park, having a picnic outside, going hiking together or merely having lunch at a decent restaurant, not Burger King. Was it really too much to ask? All Jaejun had always wanted to do was to go to a fast food restaurant where they couldn’t even hear each other properly.

On top of that, he blamed her because she wasn’t as lovely as Ara - her best friend. Obviously, she had seen that those two had a thing but she wouldn’t like to admit it. She would have felt more pitiful, she would have felt like she was being used. Jaejun needed her to get closer to Ara. Now, she saw it like how it was, not how she wanted it to be. And it hurt. It hurt as if a poisoned arrow had been sent to her heart, slowly and mercilessly encouraging the disease to spread through her veins and destroy her body.

And then again, she wasn’t enough. She dread those words because it would mean that she failed. All she did was to please others, to meet others’ expectations. She began to lose herself in the midst of trying to be perfect but she didn’t care until others approved of her – her friends, her family, her boyfriend, the professors and the society. She became a perfectionist, someone who feared making mistakes and was terrified to let people down.

You are not enough.

Another teardrop was making its way down her cheeks as she was sobbing silently in the back of the bus. It was past 9pm and she was the only passenger. Not like she would stop wiping if someone showed up but she felt like she was safe. The silence and the monotonous swing of the vehicle was somewhat soothing for her frazzled nerves. Yet, the tears seemed to have no end. She cried, cried and cried some more until a young man suddenly handed her a tissue.

“Is there something wrong?”

The gentle male voice asked and startled Luda who was absent-mindedly looking out of the window. She hadn’t even taken notice of the new passenger as she hadn’t had for that. She tried to pick herself up but to no avail. She was too broken for the time being.

No was what she tried to say but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. She was already fed up with lies, she didn’t want to become a lying machine herself.

“My...” She stuttered in between sobs and didn’t even manage to end her sentence. It was too sorrowful to say it out loud. She felt like if she told someone about the break-up, it would eventually become real and she would need to accept the fact and never broach up the topic again. However, she wasn’t over it, she still couldn’t let go of Jaejun’s words. They were haunting her, whispering creepily into her ears, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the dark hole of self-hatred.

“I-I was actually...” She made an attempt to confess to the stranger but failed miserably. Instead, she burst into tears again.

The teardrops were searing, leaving sorrowful scars on her pale skin, placing poisonous kisses on her rosy cheeks. She wanted to wash away all the memories they had shared with Jaejun but she also felt pitiful at the same time. Was it really worth it to cry over such a guy like Lim Jaejun? Was he really worth it? Were those 11 months that they had spent together worthy of her pearl-like tears? She didn’t know, therefore she felt even more awful.

It got better only when the male started patting her back and gently prompted her to lean onto his shoulder. In the beginning, she protested a bit, fidgeting in her seat to make a decision but after a couple more sad teardrops, she decided to give in. At first, the whole situation felt peculiar – she was crying her eyes out in the arms of another man after an hour of her break-up – but after a while, she found the presence of the guy prominently reassuring and his touch undoubtedly fond.

So she just let it all out. She let the pain take over her and her pride to bury itself with her worried thoughts concerning the cosiness of their scene. The more she stayed in his arms, the less she felt the need to cry. It felt like a safe haven to her. He felt like a safe haven to her.

Her wounds seemed to heal a bit, her mind was less tangled than before as her thoughts weren’t screaming as loudly as they had done so before the young man showed up. She felt at ease for the first time in the last couple of hours and it was all thanks to his assistance. If it weren’t for him, she would have cried the whole way back to her flat.

Speaking of the bus journey itself, they were slowly approaching her final destination and the thought made her come back to her senses. As it crossed her mind, she immediately pulled back from him, a bit ashamed because of the fact that she had just revealed her weak self to a total stranger.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she apologised in an instant and busied herself with wiping off the imaginable dust from her jeans. “I’ve just made your shirt all wet. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have−”

“No, no, it’s totally okay,” the handsome stranger cut her off and boosted a friendly smile to set her at ease. “When one needs someone to lean on, I am more than happy to be that someone. It would get worse if you didn’t let it out, so don’t be ashamed,” he stated gently, his soft, honey-like voice sending pleasant chills running down her spine. 

She couldn’t help but feel guilty at the immediate reaction of her body. He was a stranger after all. His presence shouldn’t have done odd things to the state of her heart the day her boyfriend just dumped her! It wasn’t right.

“But it’s so weird. I don’t even know you.”

“Everyone starts out as strangers, right?” He shrugged it off with the most reassuring smile that she had ever seen in her life. Her shoulders slumped. Unwarily, a smile casted on her face as well.

“Right.” Luda nodded coyly.

The next few seconds were spent in awkward silence, both of them stealing glances when the other wasn’t aware of being watched. Neither of them knew what to say or do until the handsome stranger finally broke the silence.

“By the way, I’m Kim Seokjin. But you can just call me Jin,” he introduced himself as he reached his hand out and she took it without hesitation. She had to admit that his grip was firm yet gentle. His touch was searing yet tempting. She found herself staring at their hands, examining the obvious difference between their sizes. The boy’s hand was so much larger than hers and his fingers were also longer. They looked like the fingers of an artist or at least someone who had constantly worked on something using his hands. She pondered for a thought what he could possibly be doing.

“Choi Luda,” she did the same, bobbing her head and removing her hand from his. “And thank you for−”

“Being your crying pillow?” Jin raised his eyebrow in question, his eyes hinting at his amusement. “Anytime,” he offered voluntarily, making both of them astonished at his remark.

Yet, she soon found herself laughing at his cute comment. It was the first time she laughed that day and it felt like the weight was finally lifted off of her chest. She was finally able to breathe. Her head wasn’t full of negative thoughts. That one monologue wasn’t playing in her head like a broken tape record. No. It was her, the sound of her pleased laughter and his breathtaking smile. 

“Now you are laughing at me. Why? I was totally serious!” He acted like he was hurt but she could detect the playfulness in his voice. A moment later, her theory proved right as he also let himself laugh with her. “Just kidding, I’m happy that you can smile now,” he noted smoothly, making her blush like a teenage girl. It was weird to hear something like this from a stranger but it made her heart leap a bit.

Unfortunately, the bus came to a halt and it was already her stop, so she needed to get off. The doors flew open and she didn’t have time to say a proper goodbye even though she wanted to say so many things to Jin. She was utterly thankful for him being there for her despite the fact that she didn’t even tell him that she was under the weather because her boyfriend had broken up with her. Nonetheless, he – quite literally – offered a shoulder to lean on, helping her until she was able to smile again. There was so much to be thankful for, yet the time was ticking.

“Uh, that’s my stop, I need to get off.” Luda jumped from her seat in an instant and swiftly made her way to the door. “Thank you so much, Jin! I hope we’ll see each other in the future!” She hollered before the doors closed behind her. 

She pouted a bit as she turned around and the vehicle was already moving but it was immediately replaced by a smile when she caught sight of the handsome stranger who was grinning widely and waving in her direction. Before the bus totally disappeared from her sight, she swore that she had seen a flying kiss from him.

What a day!

There was one thing she hated even more than the fact that she needed to attend her lectures at the university. It was the fact that most likely, she would bump into her best friend. Or ex-best friend. Who knew actually?

Jaejun had dumped her on Friday and here she was in her tiny room the following Monday with tangled thoughts and still no calls from Ara. Did she really think that it should be the way she tells her that Jaejun was interested in her and they actually broke up because of her? She doubted that Ara had no idea what was going on. Even if she really didn’t know, she should have called her to ask her about it, offer that she would listen to her rumblings or suggest watching a romantic movie and cursing all males who were living on this planet.

That’s what they used to do when they had still been best friends. They had been close ever since Luda’s family had moved next door when they had both been little kids. As Ara had been the only girl who had been her age in the neighbourhood, they had had no chance but to play together and the afternoons spent together at the playground had eventually grown into friendship. Ever since the day Ara had been forced to bring cookie to welcome the new neighbours and Luda had been the one to open the door for her, they had been inseparable. High school hadn’t been an obstacle either, they had been just as close – if not closer – as they used to be during their teenage years.

Then, university had come. Two years ago, they had both been accepted at the Seoul National University, therefore they had had to move to the capital. As they couldn’t find a flat which would be able to accommodate both of them, they had to be separated for the first time in their lives. They couldn’t even speak as much as they wanted to since Ara had started studying Korean History while Luda had started studying English Literature. Their time schedules had been different but she wouldn’t say that they had drifted apart. Their relationship had risen to a higher level, a more mature one. It had been a healthy change, an essential one. It hadn’t been until she had started dating Jaejun that things had also started to change between the two girls.

She shook her head fervently at the thought. She didn’t want to think about it. Her mind was already twisted, it was like a living monster. There was that tiny voice in her head that tried its best to persuade her that she wasn’t enough and that’s why people left her. That voice was born when the words had slipped through Jaejun’s mouth.

After that, there was no turning back, it was a constant companion. Although only a weekend passed, it came back again and again. It didn’t win over her, not yet. But whenever she saw a kissing couple on the streets, a flower that she used to get from Jaejun or his favourite fast food place where he hang out most of the time, she couldn’t help but feel worthless.

She couldn’t even bring herself to eat, the thought was sometimes so loud that she even lost her appetite. Other times, she would eat a delicious strawberry cupcake, just to forget about him. At that time, she was still in control of herself, her food and her life. The voice was born but it was still a baby.

“I hate Monday mornings,” she murmured under her breath as she made her way to the bathroom.

“You are not alone with that,” a raspy voice hollered from the opposite room. It was Luda’s flatmate – Inna – who was an early bird, even when she didn’t need to get up early for her classes. She was one year older than her and the flat that she rented was actually Inna’s father’s. They got on pretty well, although they didn’t talk a lot.

“Good to hear that,” she commented and a chuckle made its way past her lips as she stepped into the bathroom.

It took her 20 minutes to get changed and be ready to face the inevitable. She grabbed some baked goods – her favourite handmade, buttery croissants - and a cup of hot chocolate on her way to the university, making sure that she would get enough energy until lunch. She had decided to cut back on her snack time previously between breakfasts and lunch because she didn’t have the time to eat them due to her busy schedule. Plus, she convinced herself that it was only a habit that she started when she was still a secondary school student, so she wouldn’t need those extra calories anymore. But breakfast was breakfast and she adored croissants, she couldn’t imagine her mornings without some pastry accompanied by a hot drink. 

Of course, as time went by, it all changed.

“Luda, can we talk?”

The voice that she didn’t want to hear actually called her name. At first, she assumed that it was all in her head but when she turned around to look for its owner, she almost literally bumped into Ara.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit busy now,” she made an attempt to excuse herself because the thought of having a chat with Ara made her stomach churn with worry. “Can’t we talk a bit later?” she motioned with a forced smile plastered on her face but actually, she didn’t want to talk to her. Not then, not later, not ever. If she really wanted to talk to her, she should have called her already.

“Okay.” The other girl nodded in submission and her reaction caught her off-guard. Was it that easy to get rid of her? “How about we grab something at Starbucks later? They say they have a new cheesecake that you can’t miss out on,” she chattered gleefully as if there hadn’t been a single thing that she should be ashamed of.

Luda felt a need to outright laugh at her but instead, she was merely disgusted. How could she have ever spent time with a girl like Ara? How could she have ever see her as someone kind, caring and sympathetic? Her so-called best friend couldn’t even see that she wanted nothing more than to evaporate and never see her pretty face again.

“Actually, I have−”

“I’ll see you at 5 then. At our usual table.” Ara winked at her and swiftly scampered away before Luda could even have the chance to protest. A huff of air left her nose in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that Ara was so blind. So adamant. So annoying.

So perfect. So flawless. So pretty. So skinny.

Small wonder how she could find herself in the closest Starbucks an hour later, waiting for Ara to arrive. She impatiently looked at the clock but she immediately wished that she didn’t. 20 minutes had passed since her best friend should have arrived and she was nowhere in sight. Not to mention that the seconds passed by more and more slowly and she was already fed up with waiting. After all, she wasn’t the one who wanted this conversation and now she was the one who was there? What kind of absurd situation she had gotten herself into?

As soon as she made up her mind and stood up, Ara beamingly plunked herself down in the seat in front of her.

“Sorry, I’m late, I know. I’ve just had a talk with one of the guys at campus and−” she explained hurriedly, using large gestures to indicate her truth. Luda didn’t feel like listening to her excuse, so she cut her off.

“Was it Jaejun?”

“What?” Ara’s eyes widened in surprise but her astonishment slowly turned into something else. It was fear.

“I asked if that guy was Jaejun.”

“Uhm, well,” she hesitated, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, a bit torn between the idea of lying to her best friend or telling her truth, even though she was perfectly aware of the fact that it would her hurt, if not breaking her heart. “Yeah, it was him,” she admitted ashamedly. She averted her eyes elsewhere but Luda’s face because she couldn’t bear the apparent disappointment showing on her face.

“Of course.” She couldn’t help but scoff. “Who else would it be?” Luda muttered but her best friend could still hear it perfectly well. She didn’t care anymore, it wasn’t like she didn’t have the right to be angry at her.

“I wanted to tell you, Luda. I really wanted to but I just couldn’t find the appropriate time to say it. It’s not something that I should tell you in the middle of the busy corridors.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” she agreed fervently. She had to remind herself again and again to keep her composure in check and never show her real feelings. Never say her real thoughts out loud, the ones that were kept in the deepest forests of her heart, nourished by the voice in her head. They were raw and merciless. They were already tearing her apart. “But you had the weekend for that. I bet you knew that we broke up with Jaejun on Friday, so you should have given me a call by now. Yet, you didn’t,” she pointed it out in a small voice.

“I know and I’m sorry. I really am. But… you know, it’s not an easy thing to talk about,” Ara admitted bashfully, her words barely audible.

Luda wanted to laugh scornfully, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. After all, she had never showed her proper feelings not to hurt anyone, so how could this time be any different? She felt the need to punch a wall though. Hearing that it wasn’t an easy thing to talk about was the biggest lie she had ever heard. Ara used to handle situations like this so well. Even when she had kissed Luda’s first boyfriend while they were hads till been dating, she had confessed to her the moment it had happened. She hadn’t even blinked, she hadn’t even hesitated. So, what exactly had changed since then?

“We didn’t mean to fall in love,” her best friend protested. She bit her lower lip, a habit that she still couldn’t get rid of when she was embarrassed despite her overflowing confidence. “It just… somehow happened on the way.”

“It just somehow happened?” Luda repeated, not believing her ears. What nonsense was she babbling about? Falling in love with your best friend’s boyfriend can just happen on the way? Rubbish! “Since when did you two have a thing? Since the party at Taehyung’s?” she raised her eyebrows in question, the rage underlying behind her actions.

Ara gulped. She wasn’t ready for such hardships. She thought that it would go smoothly, Luda being as sympathetic as ever, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of falling in love with Jaejun. It seemed that it wasn’t as easy as she had initially planned.

“Yeah, actually, it was then when we first realised that we like each other and we wanted to tell you. I swear.”

“It was already a month ago!” Luda croaked, her voice a bit raspy. “If you had said something then, it wouldn’t hurt so much now. Maybe you could have actually saved me from Jaejun’s horrible comparing.”

“I’m sorry. I know he thinks that I’m a goddess or something but I didn’t ask him to compare you to me,” Ara emphasised the fact but to no avail. Her best friend merely rolled her eyes at her and huffed furiously. She decided that it was enough for her. If Luda was playing dirty, so would she. She assumed that the epitome of goodness and purity would also forget her sin and let her get away with it – like she always did before – but it turned out that things were different now. Maybe Luda grew up after all. “And you have to admit that it’s pretty childish to get so worked up about his words. He said the mere facts. I can’t do anything about the fact that we are different in so many ways. Like I’m outgoing or skinny and you’re not.”

The sentence was left hanging in the air for a moment. Luda would swear that she heard her heart breaking into dozens of pieces. She was already bleeding on the battlefield, why would Ara make things even more painful?

“I’ve had enough,” Luda mumbled under her nose hastily and rose from her seat but Ara emulated her reaction in an instant.

“I didn’t mean that you are fat. You are at a normal weight and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just that you always take it to heart when people comment on your appearance and I think you shouldn’t.”

Although it wasn’t meant to be rude, she felt like a bullet was sent to her heart. That’s what you wanted to hear, right? You are at a normal weight. But doesn’t normal equal fat? What do you think so? Doesn’t it sound like an insult to you? It was supposed to be a reassurance, so why do you think of it as something bad? Because you know she’s lying. She always did, you just pretended to believe them. After all, it’s still better to believe in lies than in nothing, right?

Luda needed a few moments to regain her composure and act as calm as possible. Her parents had always told her that it was better to remain composed even during arguments, so she tried her best to live up to their words.

“I don’t want to see you again,” Luda announced as she gritted her teeth in annoyance. She didn’t care that people took notice of her behaviour and threw looks at her. It wasn’t her who was the best guy in this story, and no matter how much her best friend wanted to make her stay by grabbing onto her wrist, she yanked her hand away from Ara’s. She really didn’t want to see her again.

When she stepped out of the busy place, the air felt suffocating. She felt like she was drowning and waves were crashing above her head. She couldn’t do anything to help her to the surface. She was already meters beneath the reality and she constantly got further and further away from help. Who was still there to save her?

I am here. And I will never leave your side. I promise that.

We’ve only just gotten started.

The days were slower and the nights were longer than Luda would have liked it. She was constantly in a war, both with the people in her life and both with her own feelings. 

Deep down, she could understand why Jaejun had dumped her to choose Miss Perfect Park Ara over her. Really, she could. Ara was the epitome of flawlessness; she was skinny and pretty, she had a great sense of humour, she was so talkative that she could easily chat with anyone for hours, not to mention her bubbly and free personality. Everyone seemed to like her, she pulled people closer like a magnet. She fancied going out, she was literally a social butterfly but her heart always belonged to those who were the closest to her. In a nutshell, she was perfect.

Compared to her, what was she? A waste of space, to say the least. She was never as outgoing as her best friend, she rather enjoyed quiet nights spent at home with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. She never considered herself funny, nor talkative. She wasn’t skinny either and to make matters worse, everyone made sure to emphasise that fact, too. She was certain that she wasn’t pretty and it didn’t even help when she replaced her glasses with contact lenses. Not to mention that she had tiny little freckles on her face and she had a scar on her chin which was still visible, even though she got it when she had been only 5. In a nutshell, she was the total opposite of Ara.

You were never enough. It’s time to change it. Now, you can be enough. Just lose some pounds and you’ll see it. You’ll feel better and people will like you. You will be more confident and you will start loving yourself. Trust me, I will help you.

She trusted that voice in her head. If she was able to prove herself that she was better than this, she would certainly be happier. After all, when someone is happy with herself, others will be happy when they are around her, right?

With that thought in mind, it wasn’t hard to make a change. She joined a gym near her flat and went there twice a week to do some fat-burning exercises. At university, she attended aerobics classes that she enjoyed whole-heartedly but she assumed that it wouldn’t be enough. Plus, those hours at the gym with sweating and pushing herself to her limits helped to distract her for a while. No more Jaejun, no more Ara. Just her mind and her body. The voice even encouraged her and it was kind of motivating. She did something for herself to help to move on and she truly enjoyed it. She took care of herself and her health, it was about nothing else at that time. She wanted to lose a couple of pounds but it was only an acceptable choice, not a life-threatening one.

It was after another exhausting session at the gym when she bumped into her handsome stranger again. She was sitting on the same bus, at the same spot, with different days behind her but with the same old feelings: hopelessness, loneliness and void. Although only two weeks passed, she was already trapped in a cage. Of course, without her or anyone else knowing. It was still a healthy way to approach heartbreak and major changes in life. It wasn’t an obsession. Not yet.

She was totally immersed into her thoughts when someone sat down beside her and started talking to her.

“Same bus, same time,” the voice called out and she had no choice but to turn her head to see who it was. Even without looking at him, she would have guessed that it was Jin, although they had met only once. He had a characteristically warm and soothing voice, she could easily identify it from thousands of other ones.

“Oh, Jin!” Luda’s eyes lit up brightly when their eyes met and Seokjin couldn’t even be happier. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?” she inquired curiously, her weariness from before totally disappearing thanks to the mere presence of the boy.

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” she stated with a radiant smile on her face. She felt so much better now that someone was beside her and that someone was Kim Seokjin himself. Last time, he had done so much for her, she wanted to properly thank him but didn’t have the chance since she had to get off before him. Now, it seemed that it was fate that they could meet again, therefore she didn’t want to let her chance slip away.

“Are you really okay?” Jin’s grin vanished in an instant and his expression became solemn again. His honey-like voice was laced with worry, his toffee-brown eyes filled with millions of shining stars, the ones that were her source of reassurance. They were sparkling, bathing in his affectionate and pouring her with love. Every time she looked into them, she felt like she was at a safe haven. He was her safe haven.

“Yes, really.” She nodded with an honest yet tired smile. During the last two weeks, she had been thinking a lot about her life and her choices – let it be her relationships, career goals and important milestones – and although she still wasn’t 100% over the break-up and the quarrel with Ara, she made a significant progress. 

“Are you sure?” Jin suspiciously raised an eyebrow at her and not even a hint of mockery was present in his diamond-like orbs. “You can tell me if something’s wrong,” he offered gently, making her wonder how a guy like him could be real.

He wasn’t her relative, nor a friend, he was basically a nobody to her. Yet, he still kept in mind that last time she had been under the weather and wanted to make sure that she was better now. Her heart leaped a bit thanks to his thoughtfulness.

“Yes, I’m totally sure.” Luda nodded more and more fervently until Jin finally seemed convinced. Then, she shook her head in disbelief but couldn’t hide a smile that was creeping onto her face. 

Seokjin was a literal angel for remembering the fact that she had been utterly devastated the last time they had met. Not all boys would act the same as him after such a first encounter but he was different. He didn’t even know that Jaejun had dumped her but he still offered to be her crying pillow. She couldn’t express how thankful she really was.

“But I couldn’t properly say thank you last time, so let me say it now.”

“No, no, you don’t have to,” the young man immediately cut her off but she would have lied if she had said that she wasn’t prepared for a similar reaction.

“No, really, I would like to say a massive thank you because you helped me a lot. I was going through a pretty hard time and you could cheer me up, so I’m really thankful,” Luda said it anyway because she was just too adamant to already give up. She was fed up with hiding her emotions and not saying out loud what she really wanted to say. After all, that was what partly led to her relationships falling apart. The other reason was that she was blind; she couldn’t see the signs in time. To be precise, she didn’t want to see the signs. “Is there a way that I can pay you back?”

“Oh no, you really don’t have to.” Jin shook his head. “I was happy that I could be there. It would have been a shame to let anyone sob silently in the back of the bus,” he casually confessed, making her totally baffled. She felt her cheeks heating up a bit and she would swear that her face was tinted pink, if not scarlet-red.

“Still, I feel like I have to thank you somehow,” she played the headstrong little girl who wouldn’t give up for the world but she really wanted to do something for him. Maybe they won’t meet again and she would feel just as ashamed as she did after they had first encountered. She had to seize the opportunity now. “I insist. Let me buy you a coffee or something. Then, you can leave me if you want but please, let me do it for you.”

She almost pleaded and Seokjin must have felt sorry for her because he gave in only a blink of an eye.

“Okay, I’m in. I can’t say no to such a great offer.” Jin clapped his hands in excitement and an enthusiastic grin was making its way onto his face. He was naturally attractive but when he smiled like that… oh no, Luda had a hard time keeping her composure in check. “One of my friends actually has a café just around the corner if you wish to give it a try,” he suggested and she couldn’t have anything against his idea. She mentally patted her shoulder because she had decided to take a bath at the gym’s bathroom before he bumped into Jin and didn’t want to get home to get changed. Now, it would be embarrassing to go out with her in her casual training clothes and sweaty body.

As there was really nothing that she could come up with, she gave him a thumbs-up and they headed to the café of Seokjin’s friend’s.

The Hope Café was a pretty, cosy place with lots of radiant colours, the walls decorated with breathtaking pictures from all around the world, classical jazz music playing in the background and grinning waiters and waitresses running back and forth.

At first, Luda was actually taken aback. It was nothing like the good old Starbucks with its highly modernised facilities, that typical green and brown interior design and annoyed stuff who were angry when someone wasn’t speaking loud enough. It was different yet refreshing. It felt a bit like home.

“Oh, Jin! You finally brought your girlfriend! How lovely!”

A joyful male voice hollered from behind the cash register and started walking towards them. He was a guy at around their age with average height, a casual, boy-next-door look and a happy vibe. She had never seen such a wide smile before, he smiled like he didn’t have any problems and everything was fine and unicorns still existed. He seemed so at ease.

Upon hearing his remark, she couldn’t cover up her bafflement. What? Did he just mention the word ‘girlfriend’? Oh no, he might have mistaken her for someone else! Even if it would mean that Seokjin had a girlfriend, she still wanted to clarify herself but Jin was faster than her.

“Actually, she’s not my girlfriend,” the young man explained with an apologetic smile while his friend pouted a bit, his smile wavering.

“You usually don’t bring girls here, so I thought that maybe, you finally got one for yourself,” he explained with sad puppy eyes but clapped his hands in the next moment. “Never mind, I’m happy that you decided to bring her here and I will make sure to keep her entertained.” He playfully winked at her, the russet-brown haired guy merely rolling his eyes in response. “I’m Jung Hoseok, by the way. I’m Jin’s friend and flatmate,” he turned to face Luda and offered a handshake. She took it without hesitation and made an attempt to give an introduction without making a fool out of herself.

“I’m Choi Luda. I’m−” she started speaking but closed her mouth shut when she realised that she had no idea how to define their relationship. They weren’t even friends, maybe not even acquaintances. But then, what were they?

“We met a few weeks ago on the bus when I tried to console her because she seriously looked like she needed company. Today, we also bumped into each other when we took the same bus and she wanted to thank me for what I had done last time, so she wanted to get me a coffee. Then, I mentioned visiting your café and she said yes.”

“You are at the best place for hot drinks, I can guarantee that!” Hoseok announced gleefully, making a casually passing by customer slightly jump in surprise. “We have the best ones in Seoul and we have such a wide range, I’m certain that your jaw will drop at the sight of our menu. Here, just take a look!” He shove a menu into her hands and while searching through all the drinks and snacks mentioned on the paper, Luda came to realise that Hoseok was right. 

They indeed had a wide range of goodies offered. They even had their own unique and quite creative names – like the hot chocolate made from white chocolate and topped with whipped cream and nuts called as the Lovely White Cloud or the triple-chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream called as the Chocolate Monster and his Sweet Vanilla – that she couldn’t help but boost a smile at such an extraordinary concept.

“So, what do you want?” Hoseok inquired after a minute or so of her examining the menu, the tiny voice in her head reminding her of the calories in those sweet desserts and drinks.

You need to work out tomorrow to compensate for your little cheating. Even though it’s only once in a while, you still can’t let go of control. You just can’t. If you do, you know you will be more miserable. If you hadn’t let things go in their way, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this horrible situation. Not letting go of control is the key.

“Ladies first!” Seokjin immediately flashed a smile and looked at her patiently, although she assumed that he had already tried all of the different variations since it was his friend’s café.

“Then, I would like to have a cup of Caramel Dream with the Strawberry&Lemon Rendez-vous,” she decided, trying to shake the unwanted thoughts off and focusing on the present instead of worrying about what would happen to her body if she drank and ate all she had ordered before.

A moment later, Jin also gave his order, and so Hoseok disappeared like he hadn’t even been there in the first place and they sat down at a window-table. Seokjin was a real gentleman, not only did he help her with her coat and put both of their clothes on the coat rack but he also pulled out her chair before seating himself. And they weren’t even in a fancy restaurant but a cosy café!

“Hoseok seems like a nice guy,” Luda commented after thanking him for his kindness because she was still taken aback by the fact that Jung Hoseok was literally a ray of sunshine. She had never met anyone like him before.

“He’s a great guy. Small wonder he’s my friend.”

“How did you two meet?” she asked curiously, resting her elbows on the table and chin in her hands. The russet-brown haired guy was more than happy to answer her question and slowly, without them realising, their conversation went on and on. 

As time went by, it wasn’t a nervous tip-toeing anymore and they didn’t only talk about the cliché topics that people bring up on their second encounter. But of course, they talked about hobbies, friends, family and studies as well. Luda’s jaw dropped when she actually learned that Seokjin was studying Art History and he wished to be either a curator or a teacher. In his free time, he loved to do sketches and little drawings but he made sure to let her know that he wasn’t good, he merely enjoyed it. She asked him to let her see at least one of his works and she whined until he didn’t give in.

The more they talked, the better she could suppress that little voice in her head. At first, it was screaming at her when her strawberry-lemon cheesecake and caramel-flavoured hot chocolate arrived but she ignored it. She had such a fun time with Seokjin that she totally forgot about the voice’s warning and she could fully enjoy herself. The guy was a fun and lovable companion, she laughed so much and it was for real. She didn’t have to force a smile, neither pretend to be interested because she was obviously interested. There was still so much she wanted to know about him!

Sadly, the hours flew by so quickly that it was already time to go home. Seokjin insisted on taking her home but she needed to do some grocery shopping, so she had to say no to his offer.

“Maybe next time,” she tried to cheer him up with a reassuring smile as they were walking down the streets to his bus stop. The stars in the boy’s toffee-brown eyes immediately lit up.

“So, is there a next time?” He raised his eyebrows in question, his tone a bit cautious. Luda tried her best to hide her embarrassment because she didn’t intend to be obvious, the words just slipped out of her mouth. Nevertheless, there was no use of crying over spilled milk, the words already said out loud.

“I guess.”

“Great!” Seokjin slightly jumped in delight and his adorable reaction triggered a joyful laugh from her, quietly leaving her rosy-coloured lips. “How about next Friday?” he inquired excitedly. She was pretty sure that she didn’t have anything scheduled for next Friday, so she agreed but they exchanged numbers just to make sure.

“Then, I’ll see you next Friday,” Seokjin waved as he was hopping on the bus and Luda happily waved back.

“Next Friday,” she repeated and watched as his bus was getting further and further away. As a goodbye present, she got another flying kiss from him. From that moment on, he couldn’t stop smiling until her way back to her flat.

The good feelings went away quickly, and no matter how hard Luda tried, she couldn’t forget about that piece of cake and that hot chocolate. She thought that she shouldn’t have let herself indulge in treats like this because if she did so once, then how many would follow? When would she be able to stop? Maybe others could do it, but she couldn’t. She needed to take control over her life, she needed to take control over herself or else the world would take control over her, and she would never ever let that happen again.

So she listened to the voice in her head, telling her to cut back here and there, her grocery list reducing when she next went to buy food for herself and her thoughts more and more occupied with food and exercising and calories. She started tracking the calories she consumed - both edible and drinkable forms -, so that it could give her a sense of control, so that she could feel like she could monitor what was going on in her life.

It did actually give her a sense of satisfaction, to know exactly what and how much she consumed, and she felt happy, content, joyful even because she thought that it could work. The voice in her head prompted her, motivated her to keep going, so eventually when she went to meet Jin the next Friday, she only drank a cup of hot tea, telling him that she had eaten before, so she was fine. He seemed to believe her, and it was just so easy to get away with it, she felt almost thrilled.

Besides, Jin was a lovely guy. He was very understanding, had a sense of humour she had definitely needed since her break-up and drifting apart from Ara too, and he always had such funny stories to tell, it was insane. She listened to his stories attentively, genuinely smiling and laughing along with him, the fact that she was skipping out on her lunch long forgotten. He was a good company, he could even make her forget about not eating, and it was alright.

She couldn’t quite know what to expect from that encounter though because she wasn’t sure that she could be interesting enough for Jin, so that he would want to meet her again, but eventually, he did so, and they agreed that they would meet again next time when both of their schedules would allow them to do so. As both of them were diligent university students at different universities and having different majors, they were bound to have clashing schedules, but they made it work and stayed in contact through messaging each other.

She had to admit that his food pictures were a bit triggering though, but she tried to go with usual lines such as ‘looks good’ and ‘hope you enjoy your food’ instead of commenting what they contained and how much calories he would consume by eating those. Eventually, she found herself looking up labels for the ingredients and nutrition lists and she looked up countless websites, searching for the best possible combinations of food that could help her by eating less.

Apart from going to the gym, looking up such facts took up most of her time, so she didn’t have more time to spend on her hobbies because she needed to study as well and work on assignments. She didn’t care though; as long as she could make sure that she was aware what she was doing to her body, it would be alright. It would be just a phase anyway, right?

The voice didn’t leave her. In fact, it became stronger and stronger as time went by, becoming her only friend after Ara had messed up their friendship so badly. Luda couldn’t tell whether she was glad or disappointed that the other girl didn’t even try to contact her after she had told her that she wouldn’t want to see her again, but it was how it was nevertheless, and losing a childhood best friend so abruptly definitely had its impact on her. She started feeling suffocated around strangers, always seeking out what flaws they could point out in her, and always questioning their motives. She didn’t want to fall into the same trap she had done so with Ara and Jaejun, but it meant that she didn’t even want to let anyone close to her. At least, not so soon.

The seed of doubt had been planted in her when it came to Jin as well, but they had already agreed on a time and a place for their next encounter, so she didn’t want to let him down, and she wanted to see if it would work out with her situation because Jin was really a great guy, and she couldn’t help but think that he was being genuine whenever he was around her, but she couldn’t tell anymore. She had thought the same about Ara and Jaejun as well, and look where she ended up at.

However, meeting Jin was really like the highlight of her day and the weeks behind her, the constant anxiousness and doubtful thoughts burying her joy and making her wary of meeting others. Though with Jin, it was almost easy to forget about her hardships because they could talk about so many things including her not so good relationship with her parents, the perks of sharing his flat with someone else, his newfound love for cooking or even just the bookstores she liked visiting in Seoul. They didn’t talk only about university, and it made her feel like so much more than just someone who wanted to be a straight A student to prove everyone that she was worthy and that she was a good person.

On the other hand, he picked up the fact that she hadn’t ordered any food, only a glass of still water and inquired the reason behind it. Luda tried to put on her best, most convincing smile when she spoke up.

“I’m not hungry.” She shook her head, lying, so that he wouldn’t ask about her way of eating. He probably wouldn’t understand anyway. It was just her and the voice. They were the ones knowing what it was about.

“Are you okay?” Jin kept insisting though, his mesmerizing, toffee-brown eyes searching for confirmation in her own orbs. She almost felt bad for telling him a fib when he looked like that. When he looked like he really cared about her. “You look a bit pale and sick. Are you coming down with something?” he inquired gently, even lowering his voice as if it could be a secret, but she just shrugged off his question. She had lost weight, but it was alright. She was doing well, she thought that she was the healthiest she had ever been.

“Oh, it’s just usual uni stress,” she reasoned casually, and while it was partly true, it was also partly a lie. The university workload did contribute to her perfectionism acting up even more, but she was managing well so far, she had performed really well on her tests and presentations so far, so she got it. But it needed to stay the same, so that she would feel okay.

“Okay, then. Let me know though if anything’s up. I may not be as good of a listener as my psychologist friend, but I’m here to listen if it’s about anything,” Jin chattered, his shoulders slumping in ease. He probably believed her words from the way he looked back at her, and even though she was thankful, she didn’t know if it was a good thing.

So even if he emptied his plate and mug and she left the empty glass of the still water on the table, he didn’t seem to want to pressure the topic anymore, and she was glad. She almost felt like as if she had been caught when she hadn’t been doing anything wrong in the first place.

Or at least, she didn’t think so, and that was the worst out of all; that she was no longer herself and she was no longer able to tell what was good and bad for her.

Weeks went by and then a month and then another month, and Luda found herself finding excuses to meet Jin because even just the thought of going out and feeling the pressure to eat the foods with unknown calories scared her so much that she would not only stick to her own safe foods that she knew the calories of, but she wouldn’t go to her favourite bakery either or go to group work meetings when it took place at a bar or restaurant, and she wouldn’t go out and eat because food was there, and she needed to know what and when and how much she would eat, so she could keep track of it alongside her weight.

It slowly became like a habit; weighing herself in the morning and at night, and sometimes during the day when she felt like she needed to and the voice prompted her to do so. She always had a mixed reaction whenever she saw the numbers on the scale because she might have been losing weight, but she never felt like it was enough or it was good. If it went up, then she would cut back even more, but even if the number went down, she would cut back as well. Because it was kind of satisfying to see how her efforts paid off, and how she really got it under control. She might not be able to control anything else from her own family to her ex-boyfriend or best friend, but she could control this. And it felt good.

The more time passed, the less she could exercise though because after failing a test, something in her broke, and she decided to spend the time in the gym on studying, so that she wouldn’t fall behind and end with a bad grade. She couldn’t afford to do so, she just couldn’t! She was a straight A student! What would her parents think? Would they compare her to Ara again? Would they compare her to her little sister again? What would her teachers think? She was better than this, she was so much better.

So having more time to spend on studying, she actually had more time to think about food because it really became constant; thinking about what and when and how much to eat. It was always going through her head, reminding her of her goals, and when she felt hungry between her planned meal times, she tried to suppress her hunger by drinking huge amounts of water or chewing bubble gums.

What was interesting though that now that Jin couldn’t even see her, it was only her flatmate - Inna - who could see her from time to time and inquire about her well-being. Though after listening to her worrying questions twice, Luda started hiding her body in baggy clothes, so that no one could see if she had gained or lost weight, only her and that ugly, judging mirror in her room that laughed at her every single night when all she could still see was fat. Would it ever be enough? The image looking back from the mirror?

As much as Inna was kind, Luda couldn’t appreciate her acts, not anymore.

“Look what I’ve found in the store today!” Inna announced as she entered their flat and Luda was just passing by with a glass of water in her hands. Again. She didn’t know anymore how much she had already drank, but probably not enough for the way she could still not suppress her hunger.

The girl then proceeded to show her the little bottled liquid with a wide smile.

“Your favourite brand! I know you’ve said a while ago that you couldn’t find it, but now I found it at this corner store not far from my uni,” Inna explained beamingly, and she reached out the bottle to Luda, watching as she hesitantly took it.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done so,” she remarked with a forced smile. She wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t drink the chocolate milk anyway because it wouldn’t fit into her daily calories and food rules, but Inna’s wide smile stopped her from saying anything like that.

“Oh come on! You immediately came to my mind when I saw this, so drink it well!” Her flatmate suggested kindly before disappearing into the kitchen to pack out the other groceries she had gotten from the store.

Luda looked at the bottle in her hands, her heart wanting to drink it so desperately and her stomach even grumbling at the sight, but she couldn’t do it, not when the voice said otherwise. It wasn’t part of her plans, she couldn’t consume it, it would mess up everything, and then she would be out of control yet again. She couldn’t do so. Not anymore.

So she retreated into her room, closed the door behind her and put the glass of water on her table and threw the bottle of choco milk into her trash bin. She had to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Winter arrived quickly and with that, the snowy and windy weather became more and more prominent, forcing Luda to dress as warmly as possible, but the cold didn’t seem to go away. No matter how many layers she wore or if she had the heat on or not, she was cold. Always. Looking down at her bluish fingers and the remains of bloody patches reminding her of how the skin had come off there before, she told herself that it must have been because it was a particularly extreme winter, and she had always been a bit sensitive to cold, so maybe it was just worse this time.

She could put up with it, she tried to do so. The voice told her that she was strong enough for that, so she pulled through, applied body lotion and hand creams ever so frequently, but they didn’t seem to help a lot. Not as much as she had thought so, but it was fine, she reassured herself, hoping for the winter season to go away quickly.

Soon, the cold didn’t seem that outstanding anymore. It had become a part of her very much long and very much uneventful days. The same happened day by day; going to lectures, studying, measuring food, writing down calories, stepping on the scale to weigh herself, drinking excessive amount of water to suppress her hunger, and waiting for the day to end, so that she could go to sleep even if it meant tossing and turning in bed most of the time. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, feeling ravenous, and she sometimes couldn’t even close her eyes. The daylight had become just as much of a nightmare as her nights, sheddings of hair on her pillow welcoming her every single morning.

She convinced herself though that she was doing okay, she was exercising well despite being more and more out of breath whenever she wanted to exercise or even just walking the stairs, and she was eating foods that were said to be healthy, she just controlled what she ate. She didn’t care how much she needed to lie or how many occasions she needed to turn down if it meant that she could stick to her own routine and be in control of her actions.

Seokjin also inquired if she wanted to meet up before Christmas, and Luda didn’t know why, but she was so frustrated at how he still tried to cling onto her. She couldn’t get it, he was just too good and too perfect for her, why would someone like him want to spend time with someone like her?

“Sorry. I haven’t told you, but the day you met me, I was crying because my boyfriend  broke up with me. I need time and space to move on and focus on myself. Please, understand.”

It was her way of saying that she had no idea why he would want to meet her again and to separate him from herself because that wouldn’t end well anyway. She didn’t trust others as much as before, but she didn’t know if she could even trust herself anymore. What had changed though? Life had been so cruel to her, she had it altogether, and then everything had fallen apart.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Of course, I’ll let you have your space and time. You can reach out to me anytime you want to though. I’m here if you just need someone to talk to,” said Jin through a message, and no matter how kind it seemed, Luda didn’t want to reply to it anymore. She just wanted to put everything in the past, and live day by day, obeying the rules of the voice in her head.

Inna was the only one who seemed genuinely worried about her, and who asked if she was feeling okay, but Luda had already become accustomed to lying people and convincing them that she was already over Jaejun and doing well. She was eating, she said, it was just the stress, she said. She couldn’t tell them how overwhelming it was if she couldn’t do what the voice told her to do so, how much she felt out of control. She couldn’t, she couldn’t let it happen again. She couldn’t disappoint others and herself. She needed to be strong.

However, with her semester over and the excuse to go home during the short winter break, she was almost obligated to go home between her semesters, and she couldn’t have been more frustrated.

She had never been on good terms with her family, they had always expected so much of her and belittled her efforts, and no matter how much she tried to live up to their expectations, she had never gotten genuine feedback. It was expected of you, her parents said, show a good example to your little sister, they said. When she had messed up something (anything), then came the questions why and how it could have happened.  

She always looked up to her parents and she was always grateful for what they had given her, but they had never been there for her emotionally, and she felt so alone even if they were around her. She had always tried to deny it, telling everyone just how much of a loving family she had, but they had never really listened to her, all the attention went to her little sister, and she was just expected to do well.

So to be controlled by them in another way - them telling her what to eat -, she felt out of control again, and it showed. She barely left her room saying that she needed to take care of something for her next semester which was a blatant lie, but they wouldn’t care anyway as long as she had gotten good grades and they could show her off as an example of their perfect parenting.

Only meal times were a struggle this way, but they were literal hell. She didn’t eat carbs, so she left out the side dishes and noodles they had prepared and indeed opted for the vegetables and other garnishes, hoping that they wouldn’t notice, having perfectly mastered the art of cutting her food into little pieces, drinking a lot between bites and eating slowly, so that it would seem like she took a long time to eat because she had eaten a lot. Usually, it had worked.

However, this time, her mother couldn’t let it go.

“Why are you picking on your food?” The woman looked at her after basically monitoring what she had been doing, just because she had no other topic to focus on because Luda’s little sister wasn’t talkative this time either. She was preparing for her senior year exams diligently, and the closer the date was, the more after school activities she had, so she was more tired than usually.

Luda took in a deep breath and answered without even thinking of telling them the truth. The lie slipped through as easily as if it would have been the truth. She almost believed it herself.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Is it because of Jaejun? Do you want to appeal to him by not eating?” Her father asked firmly, making her furrow her eyebrows in question. Really? That was the first question he could have asked? Doing it to appeal to a boy? Her ex-boyfriend out of all? It had already been difficult for her to tell her family the truth, but to take advantage of her honesty this way?

“Do you think I’m that kind of girl?” Luda scoffed, her voice raised due to the frustration that was slowly building up from the inside, yet her mother was ever so quick to tell her off for raising her voice at his father.

“Luda! It was just a simple question,” she tried to reason, giving her daughter a side-glance that she took with a frown. It had always been like this; if they threw offensive remarks at her and she told her own opinion or dared to show her feelings, they would get defensive and blame her for hurting them or blame her for overreacting. On the other hand, if she tried to play it save, suddenly she was ungrateful and neutral. She had never been enough. Never.

“No, I don’t want to appeal to him or anyone,” Luda said, but what she really wanted to say was that she just wanted to have control over her life. They wouldn’t understand that though. Every single time she had been just a tiny bit sad or disappointed, they had told her to cheer up and just relax. They had never been there to listen to her worries unlike they had done so with her little sister. Because her little sister had always cried to get their attention, and it had been enough for them to listen to her. 

“You aren’t eating dinner either, mom,” Luda pointed out with an edge to her words, but her mother shrugged it off. Like everything.

“I heard it’s not good for the body,” she reasoned, almost as obviously lying as one could be, but everyone seemed to drop the topic for her mother’s sake because they knew she had never been confident in her body, and started asking Luda about her studies instead.

It was always like this; if there was nothing else to talk about, came her studies. Not the way she was feeling, not how scared or happy or content she was with how the semester had gone or if she had been looking forward to the next one. It had always been about those results and classes excluding her emotions, and that hurt the most. It felt like silently screaming whenever she was beside them and didn’t say a thing about what was going on inside.

That dinner went by horribly slowly, but even that was better than when her little sister had pointed out her weight loss when she had accidentally opened the door on Luda when she had been in the bathroom and told their parents, her mother’s only comment being:

“I wish I could have your will-power,” she mentioned almost in awe, and in that moment, Luda understood that they would never get it. Never.

Even those few days she had spent at home had been enough to make her restrict even more and compensate for eating with her family and eating those foods she hadn’t been familiar with. Going back to weighing herself and tracking her calories were more crucial than ever before, and with the new semester starting, it became like a project to her to keep pushing, to keep up with it.

She didn’t care that she isolated herself from people, she didn’t care that she was always feeling cold despite winter turning into spring and spring turning into summer, having trouble sleeping, having a huge set of rigid rules when it came to foods and she was obsessively trying to follow those, she didn’t care her period hadn’t come for months, she didn’t care her hair was falling out, her nails were brittle, her skin was dry and bloody patches covered the surface because she convinced herself that she was the healthiest she had ever been. She didn’t care about the symptoms even if they were there because she thought that they were just temporary and had nothing to do with the way she was eating.

She kept going with whatever the voice wanted from her even though it didn’t feel like a friend anymore. If anything, it was an abusive one. An authoritative one. Nothing was ever enough for the voice either, but then again, when had she been ever enough for people? That voice was just another voice she couldn’t please, so she kept trying and trying until that voice seemed to have won.

Luda didn’t know how it happened, once she felt a bit dizzy while walking from her room to the bathroom and she felt her legs going weak and darkness embracing her and then the next thing she saw was light and blinding lamps, white walls and a doctor in a gown beside her. He kept asking her questions after saying that her pulse was dangerously low, and whenever she didn’t want to answer, Inna was there to answer what she knew of.

Luda kind of figured out that she must have fainted and it had been Inna who had called the ambulance, but she didn’t understand why was she still there, so she let Inna speak, and when the food topic came up, Luda was quick to protest.

“No, I eat, really. I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been,” she tried to reason, but the doctor shook his head.

“A lot of eating disorder patients say so and end up in a hospital because they fainted from the lack of food,” he enlightened her firmly, his words truly shaking her. She glanced at Inna as well, but she only gave her a bitter smile in return. Did she believe the doctor’s words? “Eating disorders are deadly, and with your pulse, it’s a surprise you have never fainted, and it’s a miracle that your heart is still beating,” the man added neutrally, and if anything, this kind of information shook her to the core even more.

Luda tried to process what she had heard, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t accept it. It was ridiculous. She was alive and well, wasn’t she? She was doing well, she was eating, her heart was still beating, why would she die? Why would her pulse be low? But then again, why did she feel so ashamed? As if a secret of hers had been revealed? This complexity was giving her a headache, a painful one, a really painful one. She felt like she was splitted between the voice in her head and her own voice. It was the first time she felt like this ever since that voice had been born.

“No, I don’t have an eating disorder.” She shook her head fervently, that voice in her head screaming, yelling angrily at her for ever getting there, for ever getting a doctor question what she was doing. It was angry this time, and even though it had become more and more angry lately, Luda had never felt so afraid and so ashamed at the same time. Could they… could they be right?

“I’m fine,” she continued repeating herself until the tears started flooding and she had no more strength to obey the voice, letting Inna give her a hug and tell her that she would be there for her. The voice continued screaming and blaming and pointing its finger at her, making her cry out loud even more.

She lost, she knew it. The voice had always been stronger than her, and she had lost against it.

In fact, she had been losing ever since it had been born.

Everything happened so fast after the realization; a proper eating disorder specialist was assigned to her at the hospital, they ran some more health checks on her and gave her the diagnosis with guidelines for outpatient care because otherwise she would need to go inpatient and no matter what, she felt like she couldn’t give up on her studies. She was given nutritional advice and a meal plan, she was given a psychologist’s contact as well, her first appointment already settled, and by the time she left the hospital, she felt so weak and exhausted that she just wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t.

Inna was there to remind her that she should eat, and despite the fact that it was extremely difficult with that voice in her head screaming at her, she realized that she didn’t want to die. No. It had never been about wanting to die although by the end she had really felt like dying, she just wouldn’t admit it. She had felt so alone, and at least that voice had been there for her to comfort her, and it had really felt like it had become a friend. Until it hadn’t.

But no, she didn’t want to die. She might not have had a loving family or lots of friends or anything, but she still had dreams and things she wanted to accomplish, and just the thought of dying… it scared her. It scared her more than she would admit, so even if she was eating through tears, she did eat dinner that night, followed by a night of reading upon eating disorders and hers specifically - anorexia nervosa.

She indeed found articles about anorexia sufferers dying from their symptoms because their organs had stopped working properly and their hearts had stopped. It was so terrifying that Luda found herself crying again; a constant reaction ever since she had been told that she might have an eating disorder, and she had to realize that she had been holding back these tears all these time. She had never once cried ever since her break-up with Jaejun almost a year before, and it had come back all at once. She had convinced herself that she was fine and that she was doing well when really, she had never been sicker in her life, and people hadn’t even noticed. Her mother had even said that she had wished she could have her will-power, one horrible family encounter following another horrible one after that specific time.

She cried herself to sleep that night, hating the fact that things had gotten so out of control when she had been so convinced that she had been in control of her life, and hating herself, her life and that fucking voice in her head that made her feel like she couldn’t stop, but at least, she now knew that it was a problem, and if she wanted to live, she had to go against that voice.

Oh, how she wished it would have been that easy to just think that she could do it and then do it, but no. The first few days were okay, but then came the guilt and then restricting again, and then came the guilt for not eating well and then the cycle went on, eventually interrupted by the therapy sessions that did seem to help actually. At first, she was so damn scared to speak up and she just wanted to shrug it off, saying that she was doing better, she didn’t need help, but then the psychologist asked about her feelings, her real feelings, she asked about her relationships and family and childhood memories, and Luda once again had to realize that she had been deceiving herself all along.

That she had indeed never had the emotional support she had needed when she had been growing up, and that it showed in her low self-esteem, self-hatred and distorted body image. That she had always tried to suppress her feelings even when her boyfriend had dumped her and when her best friend hadn’t even wanted to confess to what had happened with Jaejun. She had tried so hard to always put others first that she had lost herself all along, her feelings buried under the pressure and her need to please others and to not hurt them, yet again triggered by what her parents had taught her, especially in relation to her younger sister.

Then again, that comparison with her younger sister and Luda not being the favourite child also came to surface, and she had never cried more than during that specific therapy session, finally seeing the situation for what it was and not just brushing it off, saying that it didn’t hurt her. Because it did, it always did. She just didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful child because she got a roof above her head, her parents paid for her tuition fees and they were doing well financially, so she couldn't have complained about those, but the emotional part… It had been lacking all along, and no matter how much she yearned for it, no matter how much she had tried to please her parents, she had always been pushed to the side as the second child.

“Eating disorders can manifest in many forms, but a lot of patients are actually silently struggling and yearning for love, acceptance and control, the people around them just wouldn’t notice or understand,” her psychologist told her when Luda apologized for crying, and the middle-aged woman tried to do everything in her power to make her feel better by telling her that it was okay to cry and what she was feeling was completely understandable.

“They never noticed. My mom even said that she wished she could have my will-power,” she admitted between sobs, getting the words out feeling a bit deliberating. She had never dared to say anything bad about her parents to others, but it felt like a wall had been broken down, and then many others followed.

The interesting thing about therapy was that after a while, Luda started getting more and more memories back as they were talking about certain topics, and it was odd, but her psychologist told her that those were the so-called repressed memories that might have been buried in the back of her mind because of the idea that her parents were perfect and that they had always been there for her when in reality they hadn’t been and these memories unlocked some hidden parts of her mind and of her hurt. Therefore, coming to terms with such situations definitely helped her to move on with her recovery, and therapy seemed useful.

Although just like with everything, there were always good and bad ones. In the beginning, there were a lot more bad days than good days, but it was because she knew that what she had been doing was wrong, and she hadn’t known before how to go against the voice, so she needed to learn it now. Not suppressing her emotions was also difficult because it was emotionally very much draining to realize just how many emotions she could feel and how overwhelming they could be.

Inna also became a great support to her, and even though Luda needed to be the one to save herself, she needed to be the one to pick up the food and eat it and deal with the emotions afterwards, having someone who had seen her at the worst, yet stayed by her side and tried to understand her was so reassuring because she knew she wasn’t alone.

“You know, I may not understand what you are going through, but anorexia is a serious mental illness, and it’s not an extreme diet like others say. So really, I’m so proud of you, and I’m always here if you need someone. Never ever think that you’re a burden,” Inna told her once when Luda was doubting why she had stayed by her side, and she gave her a thankful smile in return, but it wasn’t enough to show her gratitude. But she was trying. “I’m glad to see you smile again,” she added with a smile herself, and even though this wasn’t even a compliment, Luda felt like it was, and she felt almost teary hearing her words.

Some people seemed to be able to get why even smiling was a big thing.

Many relapses happened afterwards, and it didn’t help either that Luda’s parents didn’t think that it was more than an extreme diet and kept asking about her weight and kept telling her not to go to therapy because she didn’t have big enough of a problem, but she couldn’t care anymore. She put herself first and still pulled through with it because she knew how much she needed any help she could get and she knew it was about so much more than just food.

However, there was one person who actually came back into her life, and she was taken aback when she received a message from him, but when Jin asked if she was doing well, she found herself telling him about her mental health struggles, and told him that if he could wait a bit more, she would come out of it better Then, as someone who had a psychologist friend, Jin tried his best to support her even through messages, and eventually, they met up at the Hope Café again after Jin had asked her dozens of times if it was alright for her to eat out and whether she would feel uncomfortable.

She did feel a bit uncomfortable, but she knew that if she didn’t give it a try, the voice would win, and she didn’t want that, so she gritted her teeth, met the young man and let herself be fully concentrated on what he said instead of what she was eating.

“I’ve tried to ask my friend and look up what to say to someone with an eating disorder when they are eating, so I just want to say I’m really proud of you, every bite must be difficult for you, yet you are here, and you keep trying. That must require such strength and bravery on your part. You are the real fighter here,” Jin mentioned totally seriously, and Luda found herself absolutely speechless.

It was one thing that Inna who had taken her to the hospital after her fainting said similar things, but someone from whom she had isolated herself, someone who could have easily forgotten about her and someone who had never been forced to ask his psychologist friend or look up what eating disorders were about did so… It was truly heartwarming.

“Thank you, Jin. Really. I-I…” She tried to find the words to say, but she had no idea if words could portray what she was feeling. “Not everyone would take the time to look up such things, so I’m more than thankful.”

It might not have been easy to be around him and to believe that he was genuine, but she tried her best, and the more time passed, the more she realized that he was as genuine and understanding as one could be. Opening up to someone was always difficult, even more so with her struggles, but as time went by, she realized that it wasn’t a weakness to lean on others and others didn’t find her a burden when she was talking about her worries and hardships, and that some people would really just be there for her even if they weren’t family.

Though not until she actually learned to love herself, could she believe that others could love her, but after that, it became a bit easier to be around people and to be in her own skin. She also had to realize that life couldn’t be measured in numbers or expectations or others’ opinions or academic achievements, but in smiles, laughter, dreams, hopes and in the genuine love of people who were there for her including herself.

[theshapeshifter100]

Wolf and Raven Chapter 6

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Raven sat by Wolf’s campfire a couple of nights later, having talked and strategized for several hours.

“How has your sleep been?” Raven ventured, having not broached the subject for several days.

“Better, your suggestion is working,” the shadows under Wolf’s eyes weren’t as dark now. “Still, some night terrors are leaking through, I may have to make the concoction stronger.”

“Well be careful that it does put you to sleep for good!”

“I will try to make sure that is not that case.”

Raven opened her mouth to respond, but her words were lost as a howl echoed through the trees. This had a different tone to the ethereal song of several nights ago. Shorter, more urgent.

Wolf shot to her feet, listening intently. The forest to the north exploded with noise, with bird chatter and rabbits screaming.

“Wolf?” Raven also got to her feet.

“Trouble. The corruption is spreading again. Quickly, I must aid them.”

Wolf shifted and sprinted into the woods. There was a flap and hiss of wings and a raven flew alongside her.

The two of them rushed to the site the howl had come from, in time to see rabbits and deer and birds fleeing in droves.

Black rot was spreading through the ground, darkening and melting the snow, ridding the moss of life and darkening the trees. Leaves and grass stalks withered before their eyes and the smell of burning and rot stung Wolf’s nose.

Wolf stepped into the rot without thinking, merely wincing as the rot bit and burned at her pads. She began to dig into the ground, freeing a family of voles from their burrow.

As the voles scattered a fox screamed nearby and Wolf ran to free it from under the tree limb that had fallen. The leaves cascaded down, dead from rot.

Raven flew in to drag a pine martin stuck in a tree with her talons, wincing as rot burned at her feet. Once on the ground the martin was off like a shot.

She turned in mid flight, and screeched as a demon appeared in front of her.

Wolf jerked her head up as Raven turned harshly to fly away, almost straight into another demon. The demon reached out for her and she shot straight up into the sky, ignoring the black energy that shot past her from the demons.

Wolf froze in place, tail tucking between her legs and ears flattening as the demons turned to her.

It was similar. It was not similar. It was similar enough. No. No no no no.

Crackling dark energy formed between the two demon’s hands, and she could hear more behind her. Humming thrummed in the back of her head, metal screeched, laughter echoed.

Her lips pulled back in a fearful snarl and she lowered her body, growling. A vole ran over her paw, and she remembered that her legs were supposed to work.

She ran.

Dark energy crackled over her head, singing her fur. She ran blindly, out of the corruption, away from the demons. Just, away.

 Raven made it to safety first, shifting back to human and scanning the area.

“Wolf?! WOLF?!”

There was no sign of the other shifter, and Raven gasped in sudden pain. Her toes throbbed and tingled from when her talons had touched the corruption.

“WOLF?!”

Silence echoed.

Raven growled in exasperation. What had that been? An ambush of some kind clearly. Someone knew that Raven would follow Wolf if there was trouble, but who? Nevar, or Wolf herself?

Raven stared into the trees for several long minutes before giving up. Wolf would have to cope on her own. Raven needed to check on the Warriors.

 Wolf reappeared the next evening, shifting to human mid-step before stumbling into camp. She walked gingerly, the balls of her feet red and stinging inside her boots.

“Where did you go?!” Raven demanded. “Where have you been?!”

Wolf just breathed. It had been a day. At least. She… she didn’t really remember. She ran. She ran for miles, must have done. When did she turn around? There had been humming, so much humming.

“Well?!” Raven slammed her staff into the ground. For a moment, she looked like the Raven that Wolf had known. The same intensity, the cloak swishing at her ankles.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Wolf was struck by déjà vu, and felt her stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You led me straight into the arms of demons!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t know!”

“I trusted you! You said that howl was a call for help!”

“It was! Raven please!”

“Was it your staff?”

“…I’m sorry?”

“Did he offer you your staff?” Raven demanded. “Is that why you led me into an ambush?!”

“No, no! I didn’t! I never saw… Raven please!”

Raven paused. There was a wild look on Wolf’s face, like she wasn’t really here. Her hands were clinging to her hair, fingers buried deep and digging into the scalp.

“Wolf? Are you seeing me?”

“I see you, I see you,” Wolf nodded, running a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you stay there? Why did you not flee with me?”

“Scared. Afraid. I’m sorry. I’m not…” Wolf shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry I don’t know what-”

The humming had come back, although, she wasn’t sure if she was imaging it or not.

Raven was speaking, her mouth was moving, but Wolf couldn’t hear it. The humming was turning to roaring. She doubled over still clutching her head tight.

“I cannot. I cannot, I can’t,” she didn’t know if she was mumbling or shouting. A hand appeared in her periphery and she flinched back, looking up at Raven.

Her vison swam, and for a moment she wasn’t certain if that was the new Raven, looking with concern and confusion, or old Raven, glaring with anger and contempt.

Her legs were moving. Trees whipped past. She was running.

“WOLF!”

Raven’s voice echoed, but Wolf did not stop running. She couldn’t think clearly!

She found a clearing. A quiet clearing. She had shifted at some point and went human again.

This wasn’t the same this wasn’t the same. Nothing had gone wrong this time. She had just panicked. The ambush didn’t look good, but Raven seemed to believe her, maybe?

Raven was relying on her to keep the Warriors safe. If she kept freezing, and she would keep freezing, then how could she?

She still needed to get back. She needed to cast runes. The Warriors were all split up Raven couldn’t track them all alone!

The humming in her head vibrated between her ears, making them ring. She doubled over, clutching her ears and gasping.

“Stop! Make it stop!”

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up. A demon loomed over her.

She scrambled back and away, tripping over her feet and scrabbling away until her back hit a tree. Eyes darting around she could see that demons had surrounded the clearing. How? How had they snuck up on her?!

The humming went up a pitch, and soft laughter could be heard. Wolf cried out in pain and clutched her head uselessly as a swirl a black and red energy appeared, rising up and revealing a metal masked face.

Much of him had changed. He had been a mortal man when Wolf had first battled him, running him out of the Forest of Dawn Time with Raven and Erina. It was only when he had stolen a Staff of Power that he became a threat. He had changed his mask since she’d last seen him, even his stolen staff was changed, but it was still him. It was still Nevar.

“No. No stay back!” Wolf scrambled away, but that laughter was still there. Ever present. Red and yellow eyes burned under the mask, its grinning mouth fitting into the sound of booming laughter.

Images flitted into her mind. Raven’s accusing face. Both Raven’s actually. Raven and Raven of Old swum in her minds eye, interchanging. Their anger and disappointment present, magnified, twisted. Wolf scrunched her eyes shut and turned her head away, covering her ears.

“Not real... It is not real! You cannot be here!”

There was a clatter in front of her, and Wolf opened her eyes to see her Staff of Power on the ground. It was black in places, but the white and grey wood held. The staff was topped with the head of grey wolf, lips pulled back into a snarl. Silver bands connected the topper with the body of the staff, stained and tainted with age and misuse.

But it was still hers.

Her breath caught and her hand reached out for it, unbidden. Then she looked up, seeing those burning eyes behind the horned mask. This was a trick.

She snatched her hand back and stood up on shaking legs.

“I refuse,” she snarled.

The laughter in her head pitched up a notch and the staff disappeared a swirl of smoke. The demons approached, faster than she had ever seen them. Black energy burst from them and she screamed as it struck her.

Then Wolf was gone.

 “WOLF!”

Raven tore into the clearing, spinning in a circle to scan the area before returning her gaze to the ground. The tracks had led here, but here was where they stopped. No wolf pawprints nor human boot prints could be found leading away from the clearing.

She could find, however, other footprints. Human footprints, larger than Wolf’s, larger than Raven’s. Dark energy made the air crackle like a thunderstorm around her. Nevar had been here.

Raven cupped her hands to her lips and called out. “WOLF! WHERE ARE YOU?! ARE YOU HURT?!”

Only the whittering of birds answered.

Looking at the prints, and feeling the energy in the air, it led to two possible conclusions. Wolf was taken by Nevar, or Wolf joined Nevar of her own free will. The latter seemed unlikely, but given how erratic and nervous she had been in the last few days, and how panicked she’d been when Raven had confronted her, it could not be truly ruled out.

With a huff she summoned Raven of Old.

“Raven, you seem troubled,” he commented.

“Wolf and I were ambushed my Nevar’s demons yesterday. Wolf disappeared sometime after the attack and returned, erratic, distracted. As if her mind were in several places at once. Her lack of sleep had been affecting her, but I had thought that problem solved.”

Raven of Old sighed. “It does not look good I will admit. You are certain that her loyalty lies with you?”

“I had assumed so. You said yourself that her behaviour had not seemed untoward.”

“Indeed, but I confess I could not watch everything. I might have missed something. Where is she now?”

“I do not know. She fled in a panic. I tracked her here, but this is where the tracks end.”

Raven of Old looked around. “I sense Nevar’s presence here. The two of them likely met. It is possible history may repeat itself.”

“It is possible that she joined his side. That thought had occurred,” Raven sighed. “I do not find it likely, from what I have seen of her she wants no part of what Nevar could offer.”

“I cannot tell you for certain. It has been many years since she and I last crossed paths. At this moment, I fear you know her better than I.”

Raven nodded. “Will you look for her, with your talisman?”

“I will try.”

[emisfritish]

The risk it took to blossom (Part 3)

Pairing : Sarawat / Tine (2gether the series)

Summary : Five times someone talked Tine through his self-doubt and helped him see his worth, and the one time he didn’t need them to. Chapter : 3/6

Previous chapters : 1 / 2 / 

Next chapters : 4 / 5 / 6 Notes : Hi ! So I can’t let this one go through without a few announcements, so here goes: first, this one kind of hits close to home for me. So if it’s not too much to ask, ben gentle maybe ? Second, there is a possible trigger for eating disorders. It’s not actually what’s going on here, but it’s close enough that I feel more comfortable mentioning it before hand. Be safe guys. In spite of all of this, this is also my favourite installment in this story I think, so hopefully you enjoy it as well !

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“And here’s for you, gentlemen !”, exclaims Peuk as he comes back to the table where their joined group of friends is sitting, before putting down a plate with a huge amount of mango sticky rice in front of them and enough spoons to go around. 

“Mango sticky rice !” exclaims Tine happily, before he takes a spoon full of the food and eats it all in one go. This is his favourite dessert, and no place does it quite like this restaurant. 

All of the boys start eating the dessert as well, happily laughing and teasing each other. 

“Wow Tine, it’s a wonder how you can keep that delicate figure with the amount of this you can eat,” Boss teases good-naturedly, and Tine instantly feels himself go tense. He just smiles in response and eats the spoon full he just took, before putting it down, not really hungry for anymore right now.

Maybe Boss is right and he should be a little more reasonable right now. He does have to be on his A Game for this next cheer leading competition in a couple weeks. 

“What are you talking about, have you seen him cheer ? Tine obviously burns all of those calories through the energy needed for those ! Not everyone spends their time lounging on the bench, watching their teammates play football like you do,” retorts Man while clapping his friend on the back. The entire table laughs, and almost everyone’s attention soon turns to throwing digs at Boss for various reasons. 

Tine feels a hand come up on his knee and squeeze, and he turns towards Fong, sending him a grateful smile for the gesture of solidarity. He can also feel Sarawat’s eyes on him, his boyfriend most likely having noticed that something isn’t quite right, so he reaches under the table to take his hand in his and squeezes it, silently communicating that everything is okay. 

His boyfriend being fairly introverted, he tends to be pretty observant in general. When it comes to noticing Tine’s mood though ? There was almost nothing he missed. And it had been the case since before they even started dating. It could be a bit of a pain when Tine was trying to hide his thoughts from his boyfriend, but most of the time it just felt nice to be… seen. Tine loves being this important to someone.

Sarawat reaches for his spoon and fills it with Mango sticky rice, before bringing it to Tine’s mouth to offer him a bite. Tine, no longer having much of an appetite, just smiles gratefully at his boyfriend but shakes his head to indicate that he doesn’t want any. 

Sarawat looks at him suspiciously, but doesn’t say anything to push the subject, which Tine is grateful for. 

The rest of the evening goes smoothly and Tine has fun with all of them, even though he doesn’t really eat anything else for the rest of the night. As they are all saying goodbye, Fong comes to stand in front of him and watches him intently, lifting a hand up to squeeze at his shoulder, and Tine just pulls his friend into a quick hug, before he turns back towards Sarawat. 

Him and Sarawat walk back towards Sarawat’s room in silence, and Tine, knowing that Sarawat noticed that something was off with him, tries to mentally prepare himself for the conversation that is about to happen.

They enter Sarawat’s room and both start getting ready for bed, most of the stuff necessary for Tine’s night time skin care routine having found their way to Sarawat’s room by now.

When Tine is almost done with his routine, and Sarawat is already seated at his bed watching him do it, he finally broaches the subject that Tine was still half hoping to avoid.

“Do you want to talk about what happened ?” he asks softly. 

“Talk about what ? Everything is fine,” Tine answers with a forced smile, turning to face Sarawat on the bed now that he is done. 

“Come on Tine, I know you. And I know when you’re not fine. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but don’t pretend with me, please ?” he asks, his tone almost pleading.

Tine deflates at the words, and he nods his understanding. He’s always amazed how, even now that they are officially together, Sarawat is always the one who is willing to show his vulnerability and ask for those things, while his first instinct is to put up his shields. Looking back, he realizes how brave Sarawat is, always willing to put his heart on the line, and he wants to be a little more like him. He doesn’t need to put up a front for Sarawat, he knows that. 

Sarawat pulls himself towards the opposite end of the bed, until he is sitting with his back pressed against the wall and his legs open, and Tine crawls on the bed to seat himself in between them, with his back pressed to his boyfriend’s chest.

Sarawat’s arms instantly go around him, and Tine nuzzles his neck in answer. He feels the other boy press a small kiss to his temple and he tries to draw strength from his boyfriend to start the conversation they are about to have. 

“I know he was only joking and that he didn’t mean any harm by it, but it’s just the comment Boss made earlier about the food that kind of got to me,” he finally says, explaining his earlier behaviour. 

“Got to you how ?” Sarawat’s hands are resting just above Tine’s hips, and one of his fingers makes its way under Tine’s tee-shirt, softly caressing the skin he can find there while waiting for him to answer.

“Well, it’s just… You know that I take pride in my appearance and how I look, and I work hard for it,” he begins to explain, and he feels Sarawat nod his head behind him. “Okay. Well… No one really knows this, apart from Fong and Type. But for a long time, like through most of my teenage years, really, I was almost constantly dieting. I was constantly watching everything I ate, and counting calories to try and be lean and thin, and trying to look…” 

“Chic,” Sarawat completes his sentence and Tine laughs softly. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he confirms. “It used to drive Type mad, and he would be so upset that I couldn’t let myself enjoy food without overthinking it, but I just couldn’t stop myself. It got to the point where it became a hyper-fixation and I was becoming miserable because of it, so I decided that it had to stop.”

“Did you ever…” Sarawat starts to ask, before he trails off. 

“No, never. I didn’t have an eating disorder, not really, at least. I was just kind of obsessed with calories and how many I was having per day, and I would just watch everything I ate. All the time. Fong is the one that ended up helping me get out of this mentality, actually,” he says with a small smile, forever grateful for what his friend did for him. 

“He found a therapist online and I went to see her a couple times, and that really helped. And then, for months, he would cook lunch for the both and us and bring it to me every single day. And I was not allowed to ask how many calories the food contained, or how fattening or sugary it was. And I had to eat all of it. He would cook all of my favourites too, and eventually, I learned to enjoy food again and to let go of this obsession. And honestly, nowadays, I barely give it a thought. I mean, I try to eat healthily and exercise, because I do still care about how I look, but I allow myself to eat whatever I feel like eating and I don’t spend too much time stressing over it all. I mean, you know that,” he explains, and Sarawat just nods silently. They both know the sweet tooth Tine can have at times.  

“But yeah… Even if that’s not really how I am anymore, sometimes when people make those kinds of comments, it pulls me back into that mentality a little and I lose my appetite. It’s a lot better, but it’s still a part of me,” he finishes explaining quietly.

He feels Sarawat’s arms pull him closer to his body. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says in a small voice, and Tine just nods in answer, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

They lay in silence for a while, Sarawat obviously deep in thought, and Tine knows his boyfriend enough to know that something is on his mind, but he won’t bring up the subject until he feels like Tine would be comfortable with it too. 

“What are you thinking about,” he prompts softly, resting one of his hands on Sarawat’s thigh which is resting just next to his. 

“It’s just… Don’t take this the wrong way, please. Because I’m truly trying to understand, and I’m not judging. But why do you think you care so much about your looks ?” he asks in a timid voice that Tine almost never gets to hear from his boyfriend. He doesn’t mean to laugh, especially with how serious and considerate Sarawat is being. 

But it’s just such a Sarawat thing to ask, he can’t hold the small laughter that comes out. Of course his boyfriend wouldn’t understand. Sarawat is the type to get out of bed, pull on loose pants and a shirt, and call it a day. He’s just effortlessly beautiful that way. 

“Well, you happen to like my looks and my body Mister,” he retorts in a teasing voice, and he feels Sarawat laugh against his back.

“I do,” his boyfriend answers simply, one of his hands making its way up his chest until he squeezes it gently. 

They may have been together for months now, but the way Sarawat can be so unashamed in expressing his feelings both with his words and those gestures will never cease to amaze Tine.

“Pervert,” comments Tine, laughter in his voice. 

“But you know I would still love them as much as I do now no matter what though, right ? Simply because it’s you ?” he asks eagerly, and Tine feels his heart squeeze in his chest. 

Sarawat can sometimes be a man of few words, but somehow, he always knows the perfect ones to use in every situation in order to get his point across and reach his goal. Whether that be to make Tine blush, or to completely melt his heart.

“I do,” Tine reassures him, picking up his hand where it’s still resting on his upper chest and pressing a kiss in the middle of his palm.

“I think I care this much because for a long time, it kind of felt like it was the only thing I had to offer,” he finally tries to explain, and he feels Sarawat go tense behind him.

Tine sits up and lifts himself up from where he was laying against Sarawat’s chest, before he turns around so he’s facing him instead. As much as he was enjoying the comfort of Sarawat’s embrace, he kind of needs to see him to be able to explain this more clearly. 

“What do you mean ?” Sarawat asks in a small voice, once they’ve both settled into their new position, and Tine can hear the worry behind the question. 

“It’s just that… I have the perfect brother,” he finally settles on to try to explain, but he sees Sarawat start to frown. 

“Type is pretty great I guess, but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Sarawat says in confusion.

“It’s just that growing up, I would hear all about Type’s great achievements. All the time. And it wasn’t Type’s fault, he never really wanted the attention in the first place. Plus I know it wasn’t easy for him because he got all of the pressure, but…,” Tine is trying to explain this as best as he can, but he realizes that it’s probably making no sense. 

“Like every time: with our teachers, with our family, even with my parents sometimes, although I know they didn’t mean to do it, it was just like… Type was the best. In everything,” he continues, looking down at where his hands are resting in front of him.

“And it makes sense, in a way. Type was the one with the good grades, he was the one that was well behaved while I could be a little hyper. He did volunteer work, attended meditation seminars, and just… You know Type, you’ve seen how kind he is. He would always get uncomfortable with the situation and try to bring the spotlight to my successes too. But no matter how hard we tried, it never really took,” Tine continues in a small voice, remembering the feeling of inadequacy he would get sometimes. 

For a long time, Type was truly the only one that even really saw him. Like actually saw him, and not just the front he would project to protect himself.

“So we would be at school or we would go to family reunions, and it was always like : ‘Type, heard you did a great job on that short story contest, good job !’ and ‘Tine, you’re looking good son’. And they never meant it in a mean way, it’s just… all they really thought I amounted to, I guess. Or the only thing they could think of when it came to me. And so after a while, it kind of became my thing. Type was the smart one, the kind one, the mature one... and I was the good looking one. And I figured, if it was going to be my thing, then I was going to do the best damn job I could and own it,” he finishes with a self-deprecating smile. 

Suddenly realizing that he got lost in his story telling and that Sarawat has been quiet almost the entire time, he finally looks up towards him, only to read the absolute heartbreak on his boyfriend’s face, the corners of his mouth downturned and his eyes misty. 

“I’m okay now though Wat, I promise,” he says with a small smile, before pressing a small kiss to his lips. 

“Tine… You know that’s not true though, right ? You know that that’s not all you have to offer, and that you are so much more than that, right ?” Sarawat finally asks in a shaky voice, as if almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“I do, I know that. It’s just like… This is difficult to explain,” he sighs softly. Why can’t he just find the perfect words to help Sarawat understand ? 

“On the one hand, yes, I do know this. I know, intellectually, that that’s not all I am. But on the other hand, sometimes… it doesn’t really feel like I actually know it ? It’s like the logical side of my brain understands, but the side of my brain that controls my emotions hasn’t quite caught up to that fact just yet,” he tries to explain, not sure if he’s getting his point across.  “Does that make sense ?” he finally asks Sarawat.

“I think it does,” he whispers in answer, reaching forward to caress his cheek softly. 

“You know your looks aren’t why I love you though, right ?” he continues with a small grin.

And yes. Tine does know that. How could he not, when he sees the pure look of adoration that sometimes crosses Sarawat’s face. One he’s still trying to reconcile with the idea of him being worthy of such a look.

Still, he’s not about to pass this opportunity. 

“They aren’t ?” he asks with a small smile, fishing for compliments. 

“No. In fact, until your emotions manage to play catch up with the rest of your brain, let me show you exactly why I do,” Sarawat responds. 

He pushes Tine backwards until he is lying on his back, before he crawls over him on his hands and knees.  

“First, I love you for this,” he whispers, bending down to press a small kiss to the top of Tine’s head. 

“You love me for my hair ?” Tine asks, a little confused with the idea of his hair being the first thing to come to Sarawat’s mind. 

He feels a huff of air blown on his forehead when Sarawat snorts. 

“No, not your hair, Tine.”

Tine thinks for a few seconds, before it finally clicks.

“Oh, my brain ?” he asks, and Sarawat smiles in answer and nods. 

“Even after I just asked you if you were talking about my hair ?” he says, laughing at himself. 

“Yeah, even then,” Sarawat responds with a fond smile, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Then, I love you for those,” he says, before he bends down and presses a kiss to the hand that Tine has laying on his stomach. 

“My hands ?” Tine asks, wondering where Sarawat is going with this one. 

“Hmm,” answers Sarawat. “The hands that you use to play guitar and music. The same hands you use to help people and defend those that need it. I also love you for this,” he continues, as he lifts himself back up and presses a quick peck to Tine’s lips. 

“My smile ?” Tine asks, giving him one of said smiles. 

“Well, yes. That too. And the mouth you use to communicate your every thoughts with. Even knowing that they can range from the wisest to the most ridiculous ones at times,” he says with fondness, and Tine smacks him on the chest, prompting a laugh.

“And more importantly, I love you for this,” he whispers above Tine’s heart, before he presses a small kiss right above it. 

Tine’s heart, which had already been beating faster than should be recommended, goes absolutely wild at the words, and he can’t hold himself still anymore. 

“Okay, enough of this game. Come up here so I can kiss you properly Saraleo,” Tine ends up demanding, pulling Sarawat’s face towards his so he can finally kiss him like he’s been craving to, and show him how grateful he is. 

Tine might not have the best self-confidence right now, but he does have the best boyfriend. And while the front side of his brain catches up with the back side of it, having Sarawat remind him of his worth once in a while sounds pretty damn perfect. 

[vwildmonk]

2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 11, 13 and 14?

B for you also!!

Also: If she were in smash/mario kart, what powers do you think she'd have and what would her vehicle look like???

What's your favorite thing about playing her?

Random thought you have about her that just won't leave your brain?

Putting under a read more as these got long again, but thanks for sending in the ask! Happy to take many more as these are always fun! Also looking forward after a game soon seeing how Lin centric answers change, she’s going to be going through some fun (and happy) things in her near future!

Also excellent extra Qs Frosty, love to see ‘em!

2.  How easy is it for your character to laugh? Laughter… oh tough one cos Lin, she does laugh quite frequently. But some of that is a forced laugh at the end of one of her own ‘look at the peckin’ idiot jokes’ or to misdirect things (both so others dont see and so she doesn’t always have to think too deeply about her words). But she also does laugh genuinely quite a bit as well; family shenanigans, silly stories over warm meals or steaming drinks, watching toon chaos go down that is safe and silly. It’s easy when you know her to get honest laughs- she’s open with those she loves and as they bring her joy the actual warm laughter comes easy. Something that is going to get even easier given time. It’s loud and bright and full of warmth and it’s going to be softer.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?) At the moment? A sharp drink of a sleeping potion and trying very hard to think happy thoughts as she blacks out- nightmares still come but she does try. Waking half-shifted too few hours later and fighting a shift isn't great... but she slept enough right? 

But In the future? It’s going to be better. Reading sometimes, but also a good cup of Stagehand’s special hot chocolate and a final chat with her boy are going to be important and soft. Making sure he’s asleep, sometimes staying with him to make sure he gets good dreams and nodding off herself. Other nights it’s getting herself in the comfiest pyjamas she can find, snagging a lullapop to put on the bedside table and doing some breathing exercises with Network humming songs to her. Nightmares might still happen, but with a major dangerous card off the table, she’s going to feel easier about getting support. Her dreams are going to get sweeter… and maybe one or two cuddle piles will be helpful. She always sleeps best when she knows family are near and safe, in either of the two places she calls home. The last thought she has when drifting off is the phantom of comforting hands she’s felt in the past full of love and reassurance, slipping into sweet dreams and true sleep knowing everything is alright.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust? It can be quite easy and also quite hard! She’s guarded and needs a reason to trust people. But there are ways, if you seem kind and caring and open- if she sees good and soft present? You show her through your acts that you are someone potentially safe to trust? She’s got a bleeding heart and a wish to help. Having people care for her back and trust in her confirms that bond, She will do her best to prove that the care is well placed. Other ways are steps: You help out children and she sees that? Congratulations you have a little bit of her trust. If she gives you her business card, you’re definitely working your way up as network, and if she invites you around or turns up to a place that you’ve invited her to more than once? Yeah you’ve definitely got her trust then- you might even be family.

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust? Lin likes to think herself as a wary person, and she is- once bitten twice shy sort of thing- she can get quite railroading on her views. In this world if someone can harm you and gain something from it, they likely will- she’s seen that quite a bit from her cases. So if something sits wrong with her, or she finds things out that taint views, or someone just keeps pushing the wrong buttons it can break that trust or prevent it from ever forming. However, given time and proof Lin can learn to trust people even if she didn’t originally.

Breaking her trust? Withholding dangerous info from her or doing something that takes what little control she has out of her hand. Once you’ve broken or splintered the bond it is going to be incredibly hard to earn it back. 

She’ll beat herself up for months that she didn’t see it coming, or worse question where she went wrong that led to the moment happening. It’s a surefire way to get her walls up and once you’re on a mistrust list it’s tricky to find ways to get off them.

6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable? Oh another tough one! Lin sees laws as both. They can be flexible, you can find the loopholes and the strings and manipulate them so the system is the best it can be- work within it to keep people safe and as shielded as possible- with the Law backing you it makes it harder for things to go wrong. At the same time she sees the corruption in places and knows that if things go wrong that immovable authority and strong laws will be worse than hitting a brick wall. Just because laws can do good, doesn’t mean the people behind them always are. It’s one of the reasons she is so worried for Lil Boomer. If that kid gets into trouble enough to actually get caught by the authorities, she’s genuinely unsure how she could get the flexibility to make sure that little reelkind didn’t get hurt.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child Oh Lin had a lot of people giving her advice as a kid, many different stagehands helping her learn things and also beyond that. She’s got a few snippets she recalls best: “Start/keep exploring, there’s a world full of people Pompom, never stop seeing that.”, “”lil Lin, pompom, kiddo, please for the love of peckin’ gods stop leaping from the rafters to scare folks, do it like this!”, “Never be afraid to come in for a hug pompom dear, always ask permission first mind for most folks, but remember to keep being open- you’re a good kid, keep being soft eh?” … “Pompom… Lin please, whatever the peck is going on stop and talk to us Stop shoving us away! What’s happening to You?! What is wrong with your design? What is wrong with your face, this isn’t normal would you just- Lin Lil Lin Stagehand talk to us! -Kiddo!” 

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)? If it’s for a case or for something related to someone she cares about, she seeks info out. Either clarifying with folks or doing some sleuthing and finding as many reports or related information snippets as she can. She might even straight up bluntly ask someone if something makes no peckin sense about them. Although she tries to have habit of tact for her inner circle when she asks questions, or with children. She tries to be soft as needed. Her track record of near perfect cases definitely proves that she has done her best over the years to limit confusion at all costs.

 If it’s something related to herself though, perhaps about the cure? She will dig up as much as she can but also likely spiral if she can’t find the source or the answer to the thing confusing her most. She’ll pretend everything is fine while internally going into panic spiral at ‘peckin detective can’t even help themself’. Nothing is ever simple or calm and so she can’t believe it if something is too easy, and she’ll drive herself into confusion if she listens to much to her paranoia.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color? Lin… doesn’t really know what colour she looks best in? She’s had the same outfit for as long as she can remember with the odd costume for a case or seasonal event. Navy and Red are her go to colours and she does suit them quite well when she is her natural true colour. In fact she does think she looks good in them, especially with her niece-jumper in gold-red-navy. So that’s her ‘best look’! 

When her fur has become the distressed russet the red kind of clashes a bit but that won’t be an issue forever. She’ll have to try out other colours someday, when she gets the time and energy to go clothes shopping, maybe try out autumnal or halloween themed colours, she’ll see how things go.

What animal do they fear most? Herself Wolves. She knows other wolves aren’t like the Thing that bit her, and the Thing in and of itself wasn’t fully wolf… whatever the peck it was is something else… but yeah, from her own shifting and knowledge of what she can do, and that memory of something lupine and huge hurtling at her from the dark… its definitely an animal that sparks her fear response and has her reaching for her broach and crossbow at the sound of a howl or a too big shadow. 

She will meet lycans in the future that help ease that, and seeing druids like her son be able to change to wolf form is cool… but if she doesn’t see it coming or one come at her from behind she will flinch and shield whoever’s closest to her and mentally be somewhere else for a second. 

An old fear that’s going to take a long while for her to be able to ease away. Wolves are wonderful creatures, she just has to break the association.

B) What inspired you to create them? Honestly? Toonkind in general. I saw my first session of it on YouTube when I was alone and wandering what to do with myself as my DnD adventure died with lockdown. But this whole new world of insane and amazing characters and stupendous people- it sparked such joy and life in me. Lin was formed from that joy, and then from there she has grown. I am so delighted by the stories I can tell with her and the people I have met through her. That creation inspiration has bloomed since then... in fact: Lin thinks in network connections, and in this instance, the Drafthouse server to me? Is a RAINBOW of inspiration.

Mario karts: 

Vehicle wise: She’d have something small, a very speedy little car in her signature colours and a very happy tooting little horn, does it have racing flames on the side? Absolutely bc she delights in the silly things even as she projects sensible detective as well. 

Special power move? You ever heard this little monkey swear? An explosion of tangible grawlix symbols in a rainbow of colours bursting from the car to knock people out of the way (followed by a very quiet version of her signature laugh).

Favourite thing about playing her? Interactions with others. Lin has built an amazing web of family that is full of love and warmth and softness. Getting to see her grow into that and reach back is something so soft that I am delighted to enable. Her CornMaze family, spooky grandparents, her son? her many adopted children and newfound friendly pecknecks? It’s the people that make it fun to play her and give her such life. She changes and grows and shifts even beyond what I think of her and so that makes it so exciting to play as I have no idea what the future will have in store.

…also not going to lie hearing people scream “Lin for peck sake NO” adds years to my lifespan as I cackle, she’s a beloved but so very dumb little monkey who makes poor life choices and audience reactions give me life.

[annecoulmanross]

A Re(sponse)-Re-Re-Review, Re: The Terror (2018)

I’ve recently read through all of the gorgeous review posts of The Terror (2018) from @rhavewellyarnbag​ and I just want to say that I think they’re incredibly beautiful and thoughtful responses to this show – all three amazing rounds of them.

I started out simply collecting quotes that were amusing to me, but my notes document very quickly became full of my own responses and confessions. Basically, I ended up making my own response/review of the whole thing, which is what you’ll find in this post.

So, thank you @rhavewellyarnbag​ for your many insightful thoughts about this show and my responses are below the cut! (Also, your repeated efforts to drive Goodsir to the hospital are a truly noble service, and bring me comfort in these dark times.)

01x01 – “Go For Broke” (One, Two, and Three) 

“Ciaran Hinds looks like a grand old walrus.”

This was the line that made me realize I needed to start keeping track of quotes that made me laugh like a seal barking.

“‘You should cherish that man.’ I cherish that fucking line of dialog. I don’t even mean it in a filthy way. That line is so goddamn sweet, I could punch myself in the face.”

Amongst all the beautiful content produced about this show, almost nothing will ever surpass, for me, this description of this line of dialogue paired with that post about “Idiot Boat Caesar, who knows a slow-burn when he sees one.” Sir John has an astonishing capacity to be truly warm on rare occasions, and this is one of the few scenes in which we really get to see James experience that warmth, both genuinely and, here, in the form of a truly gentle, well-meant rebuke that probably cuts James far more than we see.

“This is an interesting scene with the diving suit. This could potentially go very badly. The man in the suit may be dispatched by the mysterious horror following them, or, in order not to give it away, and to show a scientific curiosity, he may die of decompression of the suit.”

Fun fact: one of my great-grandfathers apparently died of decompression from using an early-model diving suit. I learned this when I was word-vomiting to my mother about The Terror. I am now even more terrified of historical diving suits. All diving suits, really.

“If James’ characterization plays around with gender, it does so in this sense: James is constantly acted upon, by the bullet that wounded him, by the disease that fells him, by others’ opinions of him.”

Watch me attempt to cite your reviews of the The Terror in a dissertation, because everything about this description is exactly the gender framework around which I’ve draped the two historical men with whom I’ve fallen in love, one being my actual subject of research, the other being James Fitzjames.

“I’ve previously compared James’ bravery, his very person, to a woman’s beauty: bestowed upon her, not earned; understood to be temporary; dependent upon others’ admiring, desiring of it. Does James exist when no one is around to observe him?”

I adore everything about this description and also it makes me cry.

“There are a great deal of unfortunate classical references in this episode.”

This is my entire mood about The Terror, always. The nods to Philoctetes and Medea as components of the Argonaut myth that Sir John invokes are also distinctly worth exploring in this context, though I’m not going to do so here because the Argonautica (broadly speaking) is not my speciality.

01x02 – “Gore” (One, Two, and Three)

“James and Sir John are about the same height. They look not dissimilar, which James probably liked.”

Oh James.

“Strangely, [Sir John] doesn’t seem particularly pleased with James, who adores him.”

It’s true, and it’s quite painful. I don’t think Sir John is a good role model for James, but it doesn’t lessen the fact that I know James is perceptive enough to know that he’s not being adored in return, and that’s a brutal thing to know.

“You don’t have to be a drunk redheaded sea captain to see that James is empty, hollow, aching, desperate to be the things he tells you he is, desperate to see himself reflected back at himself. Desperate to be loved.”

I have a type, and this is it, apparently.

“Goodsir is a character from another sort of work, entirely. That’s its own kind of tragedy, the tragic juxtaposition. Goodsir is a sweet, gentle, utterly ordinary little pudding, an incidental character plucked from a more innocent narrative, and he’s no-doubt going to die horribly.”

This is the early impression of Goodsir, before any of us see what’s beneath Goodsir’s surface, but it’s also not wrong at all. In another sort of work (perhaps, as noted, a work by Jane Austen), Goodsir is (uniquely, among these men, perhaps) capable of living a sweet, gentle, utterly ordinary little life, with a more innocent narrative.

“It’s strongly implied that Irving’s imagination is so open that he has to work to close it.”

That’s certainly true of the historical Irving, as I read it. I have many more complex thoughts and feelings about Irving now than I did after just watching the series through the first time, but I’m not sure whether that’s because his story-line is actually rich, or because I’ve come to like him separately. (Unlike, for instance, Fitzjames, whom I have come to adore separately, but I can safely say does also have a rich story-line in these ten episodes.) The real Irving is more elusive than I think I at least gave him credit for originally.

“Oh, James Fitzjames, you overly-familiar little strumpet, you.”

I’m sobbing.

“Scurvy doesn’t care what kind of person you are.”

In many ways this is true, because we do see scurvy acting indiscriminately on different men, here, without a care for age or station or morality. But also scurvy, in this narrative, attacks most vividly those with some sort of previous wound that the scurvy can reopen. Notably James, but also Morfin, whose flogging-scars we never see but can assume from his conversation (also, for that matter, Jopson, who, historically, had a major scar on his leg, of unknown origin). Scurvy may not truly care what kind of person you are, but if you’ve led a dangerous life, scurvy has one more way to hurt you.

“Who among us has not been desperate to discuss our interests, to the point where there is almost a flirtatious edge to the broaching of the topic?  One must be careful, so as not to give away too much, both for the gentle handling that one’s interests require, and for the sake of not alienating some poor rando who made the mistake of asking a bland, vague question simply to be polite.”

Ah, so I see you understand, then. I’ve taken to apologizing in advance of discussing the gorier elements of the Franklin expedition, as though I’ve exposed myself in public. (But seriously, this is the most excellent description of the discomforting feeling of very more obsessed with something than is socially acceptable.)

01x03 – “The Ladder” (One, Two, and Three) 

“John Ross is the Jacob Marley figure, I take it.”

The beginning of many intriguing resonances between this show and Dickens’s Christmas Carol, and I think, one of the most elegant. The actor who plays John Ross would be an excellent Jacob Marley.  

“Jopson would not talk about Francis’ drinking! You take that back, Gibson.”

This is what I adore about Thomas “Mr. Hears Everything” Jopson – he’ll only ever tell things about others to Francis; he’d never tell things about Francis to others. That’s a moral compass upon which we can unerringly rely, and one that is in no way affected by the magnetic changes at either pole.

“The spyglass sticks to the skin above Francis’ eye, as though it wished to force him not to look away.”

This is an amazing take, especially re: the way spyglasses are used to show foresight and the future in this show. Francis is forced to know look at what is coming for them, the future that waits ahead, hungrily salivating for his men.

“James is completely shattered, but he looks luminously beautiful.”

He does, doesn’t he?

01x04 – “Punished As A Boy” (One, Two, and Three)

“Lady Jane’s response is: ‘Fuck you. I know Charles Dickens.’”

Much as I detest Dickens, and much as I have my own problems with Lady Jane, she is never anything less than badass, particularly here.

“Lady Jane, clad in burgundy, ‘the wine-dark sea,’ stands between Francis and Sophia.”

Oh good god that’s it, though? It was through Lady Jane that I first found the Franklin Expedition, oh, four years ago (it feels like four hundred), and the first thing I ever said about the matter was “I’m confident that she knew Greek.” I’ve never been able to prove it, but she writes, in her letters, like someone who reads Greek. Lady Jane is well and truly our Homeric Hera. Brilliant and vengeful and matronly and brutal. I do adore her.

“Of course Goodsir’s never been lashed.  He’s a nice man.  He’s probably had the opposite of a flogging.  People probably throw roses at him when he walks down the street. I know I would.”

I’d be happy to attend this rose-throwing Goodsir-parade. I already have a bad habit of bringing roses to the pseudo-graves of historical men whom I love; we can add Goodsir to the list without too much hassle.

01x05 –  “First Shot’s A Winner, Lads” (One, Two, and Three) 

“[Re: James and “Your nails are a terror, Mr. Wentzall]…the checking of collars and fingernails is a very maternal duty.”

I love spotting feminine traits in James, but what I’m getting out of this is actually imagining James’s adoptive mother Louisa Coningham examining the fingernails of a very young James. It’s an adorable, if slightly tragic, image.

“Irving doesn’t seem like a hard man, but like a man trying desperately to be hard, and often failing. He should have forgotten about the navy, stayed on land, gone to France and become an early Impressionist painter.”

This fantastic description of Irving makes it even more tragic that he DID try to forget about the navy and stay on land, and it didn’t work. Canon divergence AU where Irving moved to France instead of Australia?

“We’re told, repeatedly, including by Goodsir, himself, that Goodsir isn’t a doctor.  It’s a fundamental misunderstanding: people think they know who Goodsir is, or who he wishes to be, but Goodsir has no desire to be anything but what he is. Perhaps appropriately, it’s Hickey who recognizes and names Goodsir (“You’re an anatomist.”) One may say that Hickey ‘reads’ Goodsir. Though, Hickey’s understanding is, as it often is, flawed.  He may know what Goodsir is, but he doesn’t know who Goodsir is.”

I very genuinely wonder – did Goodsir want to be thought of as a doctor, by any of them? What were Goodsir’s thoughts and preferences on the matter?

01x06 – “A Mercy” (One, Two, and Three)  

“What Sir John left them was a means of dissembling, a facade. Cheer in a cheerless time, which holds the dangerous allure of forgetting.”

This is perfect, because Carnevale, at its center, is “the dangerous allure of forgetting,” in no small part because, structurally, Carnevale fills the role of the Homeric island of the lotus-eaters. (It is also a labyrinth, though, and that’s an interesting doubling.)

“The half masks in the trunk have the semblance of the faces of dead men we’ve seen. The creature has the habit or practice of biting a man’s head in two, or biting off part of the cranium.”

I had never noticed this but it’s entirely true.

“Francis is bracketed by Thomas’, neither one of them a doubter.”

I will SCREAM

“‘I don’t like to hear a woman laughing now.’  I suppose it’s fortunate that Jopson’s professional life allows him to be around men, exclusively.  What would Jopson have done later in life?  Marriage is obviously out of the question if women’s mirth causes him such distress.  Would he have stayed on boats?  Francis promotes him to lieutenant, but would that have made him happy?  He has a love of, an instinct for caring for others that obviously can’t be transposed onto a marriage, both because of Jopson’s limits and because of Victorian gender roles.  The best possible course for Jopson would have been valet, a gentleman’s gentleman.  His rank and background would have made him an asset, and no more devoted valet would there have been.”

The fanfic writes itself. (I have nothing to say yet, I just adore this speculation; more below, though.)

“The drop of blood falling from James’ hairline onto the mask’s cheek to make a kind of morbid beauty spot is a gorgeous image, like a piece of decadent poetry.”

I personally find James unbearably beautiful, and the whole extended sequence with the dress and the drinking and the blood dripping is so subtle and lovely and I think, like with poetry, what we get out of it is never simple.

“James is dressed as Britannia. Which makes James mother to them all.”

Though I, selfishly, would have loved to see James in something more scandalous than his Britannia costume, I think it’s symbolically the best possible choice for him. This is an outfit that is technically crossdressing, but it’s very subtle thanks to the choices James makes – we don’t see any dramatic woman’s wig or other feminine elements. This is an outfit that reminds the men of home; reminds James of home, and of his adoptive mother, whose poetry was full to the brim and spilling with Britannia.

“Blanky looks great. I wonder if the visual reference to the Ghost of Christmas Present is intentional.”

I’ve always assumed he was meant to be Bacchus, but of course the Ghost of Christmas Present has more than a little Bacchus in him also. All of these Christmas Carol overlaps are exceedingly interesting – John Ross’s Marley warning Franklin’s Scrooge, and now the Ghost of Blanky Present reminding Crozier that others are – for good or ill – having fun without him.

“One may imagine that Edward has disguised himself as someone who enjoys parties.”

OH GOD.

01x07 – “Horrible From Supper” (One, Two, and Three)  

“Hickey can’t move on from humiliation, because he would see that as more humiliation. Keeping the humiliation alive in his mind is the only way to gain some mastery over it. He holds the wound open, so that no one can deny that it’s a wound, that it happened, that it mattered, that he matters, but it means that he can never heal, never be whole. Scurvy.”

The Hickey/Fitzjames parallels are STRONG here. Also, this resonates really well with a conversation I had with a friend about Eleanor Guthrie from Black Sails – she’s unable to move past being hurt and I just can’t fault her for it, even as her stubbornness just hurts her more. And I feel that sympathy for James, too – he’s bottled up so much hurt inside, and it has kept hurting him his entire life. If Hickey didn’t “hold the would open” by, you know, making wounds in other people, literally, I’d probably even feel bad for him.

“There is an emotional and psychological toll, which Francis tries desperately to reduce by keeping the men together, reinforcing the bonds between them, persistently humanizing them.”

The Jopson’s promotion scene warms me on cold nights. That’s all.

“Jopson’s role is the opposite of Lady Silence’s: the fact of her gender alters nothing about it; Jopson’s informs it.  Make Jopson female, and he clearly functions as Francis’ wife.  If Jopson is male, though, what is he?  A paid servant, in the literal sense, but his obvious pleasure at caring for Francis long ago eroded the patina of duty.  I think we can safely say that Jopson loves Francis, loves and cares deeply for him.  Is invested in Francis’ safety, well-being, happiness.  Enjoys the details of his service to Francis, beyond the enjoyment of a job well-done.  Add a sexual component, and it becomes a marriage.  Leave it out, and the relationship is something else.  Drop Jopson into a marriage with a woman, and he becomes a husband.  Leave him with Francis, and he remains Francis’ wife.”

This is what I find so fascinating about Jopson – everything about his identity has the potential to be contingent, to change, but as the expedition’s tragedy unfolds, we see all of the possible threads of Jopson’s future cut off, one by one. From the beginning, Jopson can’t be female, and thus can’t serve a wifely role in British society, even though he’s clearly fit for it. We learn that Jopson has some very specific PTSD triggers related to women that might prevent him from ever being married to one, even if he wanted to be. Jopson seems to wish to continue serving Francis in perpetuity, to continue being as close to a wife as Francis will ever have, but Francis, sober, no longer needs the same kind of care that Jopson used to provide, and, eventually, Jopson becomes unable to care for Francis at all, so that Francis has to care for him. Jopson is all change, all tragedy.

“I would like to thank the director, cinematographer, anybody else who may be responsible for that stunning shot of James in profile. James really is beautiful, even, maybe particularly, at this stage of his infirmity. I’ve said it at other times, but there’s something, well, I suppose, romantic about his illness, because he is young, and beautiful, and heroic, so desperate to be loved, and so loved, in the end.”

*sighs* I’m not okay about James.

01x08 – “Terror Camp Clear” (One, Two, and Three) 

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice before, but James is a leggy creature.”

I will still treasure the term “a leggy creature” when I am in my grave.

“Sir John was not a top, and I know that for a fact, because I just got Lady Jane on the Ouija board, and she told me.”

I WILL SCREAM.

“[Francis] doesn’t look on James as a sick person in need of careful handling. There’s no sense of the separation necessary for pity between Francis and James. He is this way toward James because he cares about James.”

I know we all joke about the quote “it’s rotten work” / “not to me, not if it’s you,” but this is what that quote has always meant to me (the Anne Carson of it, that is, not the original Greek). Caring for someone via pity, via distance, takes effort, is painful, is rotten, even though it is sometimes worth it. Caring for someone via care, via love may still take effort, and may still even be painful, but there is no separation, no alienation, from the service of providing care. That’s where Francis’s tenderness comes from, I think. That closeness.

“James, you big, beautiful racehorse.  Even chapped and cracked, he’s radiantly beautiful.  He has such a warm quality.”

In the confessional spirit of this review, I will admit: I find James more attractive than I am capable of expressing. The interesting thing, to me, is that I don’t have the same response at all to Tobias Menzies or to any other character I’ve seen him play. He’s a great actor, certainly, but he doesn’t do it for me. But James does. I’m still puzzling this out.

“James’ bravery is treated somewhat like a woman’s beauty, in that he believes it to be conditional, temporary. It’s dependent on others’ appreciation of it; when he’s alone, James doesn’t feel brave.”

I will say, admitting that it’s probably James’ femininity that is attractive to me gets you a long way toward understanding why I do find him so terribly appealing.

“Oh, please, baby Jesus, don’t let Jopson flip. Jopson’s one of the few things I have left to hang onto, here.”

Jopson will never flip, such that Jopson’s death really is the point of no return, here. He’ll die before he flips. (Notably, it’s important to be clear that by “flip,” I mean turn his loyalties away from Crozier. I have reconciled myself to the idea that, though Jopson is upright and innocent in a way even my James isn’t, he is capable of violence and even unjustified, offensive violence. But only ever in the service of his captain.) And again here, Jopson very well might not be immune to the seduction Hickey’s definitely attempting, but bending to Hickey’s wiles means betraying Crozier, and that’s an impossibility for Jopson.

“Bridgens, who’s a cozy old piece of furniture…”

….and Henry Peglar would like to sit on him. (I get it Henry, I do.)  

01x09 – “The C, the C, the Open C” (One, Two, and Three) 

“Oh, Bridgens. Where’s Henry? Where did Henry go?”

I think a real triumph of this show is getting you to know, by this point, that when you see Bridgens, you should ALWAYS ask yourself, “Where’s Henry?” Because yeah, “They are each other’s loved one,” and there can’t be either one of them without the other. Bridgens knows this, and makes himself into a memorial for Henry. The only kind of monument Henry Peglar can ever have: Bridgens, with his own body, preserves Peglar’s words for the future, for us. I’m just going to cry for Bridgens and for Peglar for a minute, that’s all. Please excuse me.

“Hartnell watches Bridgens pick up Peglar, Peglar’s arm around Bridgens like, ‘… Wait a minute…’ Hartnell also misses Hickey’s innuendo about Armitage.  Tom Hartnell tragically has no gay-dar.”

Oh precious Hartnell. This lack of gay-dar is part of why Hartnell had to get written out of what I’m currently writing (I’m sorry Hartnell! It’s not you it’s me.)

“There’s something of a horrible wooing about it: Goodsir, like an unwilling bride, forcibly taken from his own people by unscrupulous men, installed in as luxurious surroundings as can be had, with his trousseau, for the purpose of catering to an unspeakable hunger.  His innocence is taken from him, and he’s turned against himself. His body is stripped naked and consumed.”

(a) What a horrible and horribly accurate description. (b) This is another one of those places where this show is unafraid to place male characters into narrative metaphors of womanhood. For me, the most vivid is always Jopson, but Goodsir is also often made to face this sort of feminine role, and for Goodsir it’s so much more often about violence and shame.

“James says “I’m not Christ,” before he tells Francis to feed the men his body.  It seems like something of a non sequitur, until one imagines James’ train of thought.  As the impulse to give his body to the men occurred to him, so may have also come a last flicker of self-mockery: “What, James, do you think you’re Christ, now?”  So that his announcement that he’s not Christ comes in response to this: he knows who he is, and who he isn’t.  Finally, he knows this.”

I think that’s exactly what went through James’s head. And more than that, I think back on that beautiful gif-set that placed James’s “I’m not Christ” beside Francis’s “Like Christ, but with more nails.” Francis, whose self-hatred is clear and undisguised, begins to heal by recognizing what is Christ-like in himself: his suffering, and the compassion that is borne from the suffering. James, whose self-hatred is buried under masks and lies and stories and gilded dresses, begins to heal by admitting what is not Christ-like about him: his mortality, his humanity; and that doesn’t make James any lesser, and James finally, finally begins to see so.  

“Can’t Jopson’s story end differently, this time?”

That’s what hurts. In no version of this story that happens with Hickey AND the Tuunbaq AND the inevitable deaths of 129 men, should James die any different, or Goodsir, or Bridgens. If they were going to die, they should do so showing bravery and brotherhood; agency and defiance; commitment and love. There are other men who deserved so much better than the ignoble deaths they got (Irving comes to mind) but Jopson is the warmest light and receives the coldest death. There’s no reason for his story NOT to end differently, except for the sheer narrative cruelty of it all. The Terror is brilliant because it knows to reserve this sort of agony for the worst possible gut-punch. Any more than one, or maybe two, utterly, pointlessly cruel deaths, and we would be immunized. But we have no immunity to prepare us for the dizzying nausea of Jopson’s death.

“The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.  Death, ultimately, isn’t mysterious. Whatever might happen to one afterwards is immaterial to the living, still bound to this plane of existence.  One may fear it, but once it happens, it’s over.  Love is a way of life, though.  It changes over time.  It changes the person who feels it, and the person they feel it for.  Both Francis and Jopson were changed by their love for each other.  Jopson goes to one mystery still in the grip of the other: it’s Francis he sees, reaches for, cannot touch.”

Jopson’s death is still haunting me. It’s like Tantalus, all that food that would save Jopson’s life, if only he could eat it, and yet he crawls right past, toward Crozier. What does that say about Jopson? The way the world tortures him is to hold Crozier just outside of his reach – what on earth is Jopson being punished for? (These aren’t intelligible thoughts anymore; I’m just broken-hearted for my boy.)

“In a narrative that encourages empathy for everyone and everything from a colonial expedition to a monkey to an eldritch monstrosity that rips men’s heads off, why should Hickey be exempt?”

A beautiful way of putting it. I’m still working through my initial disgust at Hickey, but intellectually, I can’t help but agree.

01x10 – “We Are Gone” (One, Two, and Three)

“…the experience of being through so much with these characters that I care about so much has been like living several lifetimes.”

My mother, who has not yet watched this show, told me recently that she thinks these characters have become my family. In part, this is due to the historical research I’ve been doing on the real men of the Franklin expedition, but the show played its own large role in making me fall in love with these men, making me desperate to live as many lifetimes with them as possible.

“Why does Goodsir do it, though?  He seems to have made up his mind before Francis appears, and with Francis comes the hope that Edward will rescue them.  If anything, Francis’ presence makes Goodsir more resolute.”

As another dear friend said, Goodsir definitely had the plan in mind before Francis showed up, but the plan needed a trigger: it needed Francis, a good man worth dying for. Someone for Goodsir to look at and say, “Maybe my actions will help this man.”

“I think I just confessed to being in love with a man who doesn’t exist.”

Ahh, this lovely club. Even the men I’m in love with who actually lived two thousand years ago don’t really exist, at least not in the way I love them.  

“The Terror is like a play put on by a theater company that has no female actors, so all of the men must play female roles…without any women to place in certain contexts – caretaker; lover; victim; object of desire – those dramas necessarily play out on the bodies of the men.”

Watch this space. The Terror is a classical Greek tragedy, and I can prove it.

The description of Goodsir’s preparation for death is richer and more complete than anything I will ever write. GO READ IT.

I also think it’s fascinating to see this scene through the eyes of a reviewer who readily admits “This is an unusual case. I like Goodsir. I don’t usually like the men I’m looking at. I care for Goodsir.” I confess that, though I also like and care for Goodsir, when I am looking at “eroticized male bodies” in media, I only really “feel at home in a text” when I also like and care for those men. If a male character is too morally objectionable to me, I find no erotic appeal to viewing him, because I am so distracted by my own sense of his evils. I simply cannot find anything to pull me, aesthetically or sexually, to someone like Hickey. (I can never find anything sensually appealing about Hickey/Tozer, for instance.) I am pulled to James, in contrast, because he is beautiful to me visually, and because his life (as far as I can see) shows me a person who cared, who tried, who loved. Who is worthy of my care and trust.  And though I don’t think I’m in love with Goodsir in the same way than I am with James, I care deeply for Goodsir and thus can find the appeal in watching him, visually.

“‘There is wonder here.’/ ‘Then, there will be the angels.’ The first thing angels ever tell any human being who beholds them is not to be afraid.  Wonder isn’t always delightful, isn’t always something that humans can understand, or possibly, even, survive.”

Fear is something I don’t often enough examine closely with this show, though it is so terribly central. “Be not afraid” and “We have too much fear.” How can one dispel fear? Wonder obviously isn’t enough; wonder might even make it worse. Being told not to fear rarely works out so well for those visited by angels. I think, sometimes, that all we can do is – as Peglar does – admit to those we love that we have too much fear, and hope that they can help us carry it.

I can’t NOT give you the end of the first round of these reviews, because, like the description of Goodsir’s preparations, it’s literature: 

“The Terror, a show taking place one hundred, sixty years ago, manages to be timely without even trying.  Lead poisoning.  Environmental catastrophe.  The baggage of colonialism.  The treatment of indigenous people by white people. Information and misinformation.  What it means to be a leader.  What it means to be in a marriage.  The role of women in society.  Gay marriage.  Income inequality.  Ethical consumption.  Consumerism. Members of the armed forces working far from home.  Mental health. Addiction.  All of these fit neatly into what can also be taken at face value, a well-constructed and -acted tale of adventure and loss set in a faraway place and time.  The Terror never tries to force meaning on the viewer, never struggles under the weight of its lofty aspirations- because it has no aspirations.  It’s an utterly guileless production, seeking nothing but to present its characters and situations honestly.  In doing such a simple thing, it has created the world.”

And, finally, I leave you with: “I’m not looking for a way out.  I just want more time with the characters. I don’t want to leave them.” To me, this gives an answer to David Solway’s question “Do you have a tolerance for ongoing narratives which generally turn out to be the same narrative?” And that answer is “yes.” I think there’s a tolerance – or, even, a hunger – for ongoing narratives that turn out to be the same narrative, in this fandom, because why would anyone want a way out anymore, if it means the end of our time with these characters?

I know I don’t.

“The end of The Terror isn’t a sad end, nor is it a hopeful one.  It’s not even properly an end, because we know what comes next. What comes next? Well, we do.”