#about 1700 words

[katatonicimpression]

It's the middle of the afternoon on New Year's Eve and I have fuck all to do so let's watch the Sam episode of What If?

DISCLAIMER: This is the first, and so far only, full episode of this show that I have ever watched. It did not inspire me to watch more. So, that's my bias I guess.

Background

There was some controversy about all of this. Sam appeared briefly in the zombies episode in the first season of this show. He's already a zombie and is quickly killed (re-killed?) by bucky, who makes a quip about it.

The line feels kinda off, like they're trying to recreate the banter between the characters in the live action (finding each other annoying etc) but it falls flat. There's no love there. In civil war (which takes place before the canon divergence in the show), their banter still has a level of camaraderie to it. They're riffing off each other, and fighting together and saving each other. It's weird to have bucky quip at the prospect of sam's death in a scene that takes place after those scenes.

It feels like reading one of the thousands of "incorrect quotes" posts on this app that write Bucky being horrible to Sam for no reason. It's the exact same emotional experience. Put a pin in that.

There was another controversy related to this, which is that in the same episode, Sharon also dies. Allegedly, one of the main writers (matthew chauncey) said that they should give her a particularly violent death because "no one likes her... he belongs with peggy". This is an open expression of violent misogyny so yeah that's fun. What a piece of shit... allegedly.

Sam does not appear in any other episode of what if s1. When s2 came out, his absence felt conspicuous, and many people commented on it. In particular, there's an episode of s2 that is vaguely medieval/robin-hood vibes, and Sam is noticeably absent from Steve's band of merry men. Steve's best friend, closest partner of over 50 years of comics isn't there. The falconry themed superhero is not in the medieval episode. People rightfully called bs.

The show felt similar to reading posts and fics in the fandom, and the way that people will minimise Sam's existence in Canon. Put a pin in that.

One person involved in making it (I think a writer but I can't remember and I searched for like ten minutes it's NYE gimme a break) responded publically to these complaints. They cited a supposed uncertainty over sam's future in the mcu (specifically whether he was cap or falcon) as a reason for not including him.

This was very funny, because 1) There was no ambiguity over whether Sam would be cap - it was a dead cert since Endgame what are you on? and 2) no one would've been mad if Sam had appeared as Falcon.

This response had the same vibes as when random fans say weird and ignorant things in Sam's tag and, when confronted, will offer weird excuses that don't make any sense. Pin it.

The other bit of context here is the (admittedly heavy) discussion of how What If launched Captain Carter, a decision that had to have been made around the same time that they decided to do samcap. I've talked before about this; it's complicated and the discourse is annoying. But ultimately, it comes across very badly for the mcu that they created a white female british captain america (not captain britain from Excalibur, but specifically a captain america character) specifically to launch near simultaneously with a Black captain america. It looks bad and I don't like it.

Anyway, so after this person who's name i can't find put their foot in their mouth, Marvel released a few stills from s3, revealing that Sam would be in one episode. People were happy to see him, and (aside from the VERY VALID CRITIQUE that WhatIf!Sam doesn't have the eyelashes he so clearly ought to) people were mostly placated.

The Episode

I love mark ruffalo but his voice performance in the opening scene is not it. Also the narration is mixed a lot louder than the dialogue... which is a jarringly amateur mistake. Ok whatever i'm gonna try to keep my salty complaining sam-focused

So, the show opens with a version of the opening samsteve meetcute from CATWS. But this time, without a mutual exchange of vulnerability. This time Sam is just offering Bruce comfort.

Then he literally gives him therapy.

Then he takes him to Louisiana to the boat, a redo of the sambucky scenes in tfatws. I'm not the first person to point this out, but there's a big difference here. Bucky came to louisiana uninvited with a (technically unwanted, but still very impressive) gift for Sam and then spent the day working on the boat as a gesture of friendship. He was performing acts of service (or however you express it) because he wanted to preserve and nurture this relationship. He knew he'd treated Sam badly and wanted to make it up to him.

Then, Sam invited him to stay the night (or, rather, accepts bucky's self-invitation to sleep in his house), because he's nice and welcoming and generous yes sure. But also because he likes Bucky back, despite everything. They both want to be friends and partners.

That's not happening here. It's just Sam offering Bruce his home because he is apparently motivated by a desire to help random white men he meets.

It reminds me of the countless fics and hcs that write Sam exclusively as a caretaker and therapist for bucky or other white characters. It reminds me of the takes that rewrite canon to make him be the one to pursue bucky with a desire to help and nurture him - a thing that has never happened in canon. Urgh. Pin that thought up with the others.

Oh and of course, we can't have a story about samcap without paying tribute to our holy special boy steve for a bit. Whatever it was just a few overly long shots.. still annoyed me though. Wow I really am a hater.

Oh and Bruce is the one with the arc? He's the one the episode is about? But his change of heart happens entirely off screen and with no implicit turning point? Lol. Lmao even.

And "friends who accept us for who we really are." I want to take this entire writers room aside because no. You can't end with a thesis statement that wasn't the theme of the story. Go back to school.

Am I Nothing but Negativity?

It was nice to see sarah again! Shame all she got to do was scream then get violently shoved to the floor.

Ok but in general, once the episode gets started in earnest, it's fine.

I did genuinely like seeing Sam again. I like him in the lead, even if the episode was about Bruce, Sam was still the main character and that was fun to see.

Mackie's voice performance is strong.

I enjoyed the 0.0003 seconds of sambucky. I liked seeing Sam and Monica together.

"The man wants to have tea with Lenin." This line is so bad it's good again. Yeah he probably would. And he'd be fine. Vlad would love the guy, everyone does.

I like the visual of Sam facing down a giant kaiju and just chatting to it. That's very sam coded. That and Sam with the shot of the monsters walking past him and him standing strong.

What is the Point of this Show?

There's nothing spectacular in this episode. The dialogue is astoundingly predictable, the jokes fail to be funny.

At times, the animation style (much like TDP which recently finished) feels like it's holding them back. A lot of the quieter, less actiony, shots are ugly frames with people walking less naturally than sims do. And they do have some more expressive stuff in the busier scenes, so it's not artistically empty, but it's not doing a lot for me either.

Maybe it's an interesting technique for those who know more about these things, but honestly regular 2d animation would've been (i assume) cheaper and potentially better. Then again, if it wasn't visually distinctive, what else would it have going for it?

Conceptually, a mcu what if show is an amazing idea, but in practice IN MY VERY BIASED OPINION, it's done very little with that potential. The comics offer such a rich trough of ideas that could be spun into very entertaining short episodes with versions of the characters that would otherwise not be able to encounter those story beats. Hell, Sam in particular has an entire massive part of his character cut from the mcu (his powers) that they could explore... and that would be really well suited to animation!

But they've stuck to the comparatively shallow mcu lore for most of it.

I've seen people express disappointment that it's ending after only 3 short seasons and I see why. This is obviously the sort of thing that you could do so much more with. But I also feel that the writing is uninspired and betrays a real lack of interest in the worlds of most of these characters.

I Hate its Vibes

So let's take a look at those pins, shall we?

We have:

Ignoring Sam most of the time

Mischaracterising his relationship with Bucky

Writing him as a caregiver, a nurturing therapist only

A lack of an internal world and motivations beyond his desire to help others

Ignorance over his character's history including his powers and the depth and longevity of his relationship with steve

Nonsensical excuses when faced with criticism, unintentionally displaying even more ignorance and incuriosity over the character

I mentioned that writers comment about sharon earlier for a reason. The vibes are not good. They are rancid. They are reminding me of every dumb post I've ever read on this site. Every weird jab at the character for stupid, racist reasons. Every fic with the "magical negro" trope. Every moron i can think of tbh.

Yeah, so maybe I'm not being fair to this show. The episode was uninspired, but not bad. I liked seeing sam do things. If people gif him looking cool in it, I'll reblog it I guess. But I'm not gonna watch the rest of the show, and I won't mourn the fact that it's ending.

I guess my conclusion is that it's very funny that Marvel placated disgruntled sam fans with a still from this episode, and then when it finally comes out, it's everything we've ever complained about.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I fucking love when characters see themselves in someone else

Current thoughts rn is an oc who’s half human and half a species I made up that’s not well known in the federation and only recently joined it awhile ago

And they wanna be a good representation of their non-human species, but stuff keeps happening that makes them feel like they fail at it

And in many ways, they’re different from Spock, cause Spock looks like a Vulcan and wants people to look at him and see a Vulcan who succeeds at being a Vulcan, whereas this oc looks like a human, but wants people to see them as [species I made up]

But they still have some similarities, and they’re crying cause all this drama happened around them, like their fiancé calling off their engagement during the ceremony, and how they feel like their fiancé wouldn’t have done that to them if they weren’t half human, etc

And Spock is just to the side, distinctly aware that he’s had the same thoughts

[thesweetnessofspring]

Katniss Wants Kisses: Part Four

Drabble series: Katniss is fed up with getting no physical affection from Peeta during their training for the Quarter Quell, so she takes matters into her own hands. Rated T.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on ao3

My living room has been cleared of its smaller furniture, leaving the only items on the floor the ornate area rug and couches pushed up against the wall where Haymitch and I sit in front of Peeta.

“I want one thing to be very clear,” Peeta says, “Hand-to-hand combat isn’t the way either of you are going to take out another tribute. If someone attacks you, we’re going to focus on getting out and running away. From there you can regroup and make a plan.”

“Save the running away for Katniss,” Haymitch says. “If it comes down to my running, they’ll catch me. I’d rather fight.”

Peeta’s flashes me a look that I can’t decipher. Annoyance? Arrogance? But I know what he’s thinking. That Haymitch can’t be in the arena with me. That Peeta is determined to go in there and protect me. I have to push the thought away to keep focus on the lesson.

“Fine, we can work on that, too,” Peeta agrees. “But the focus is going to be on getting away. And to start off, you’re going to learn about the weakest points in the body.”

Peeta lectures and demonstrates the body's weaknesses–breaking against thumbs instead of four fingers, twisting away from the stronger muscle, and of course for the men hitting them between the legs. Peeta also points out that sometimes the key is getting close to the attacker, as if giving them a hug, and not further away, so the angle is too awkward to strike. 

We start with practicing maneuvering out of someone putting us in a headlock from behind and then choking us against a vertical surface. Peeta is always the attacker, with Haymitch and I taking turns as the defender.

I get so absorbed in learning the fighting that everything else fades away, even at times the fact that it’s Peeta’s arms holding me and hands grabbing me. Instead, I imagine us in the arena, the chance that Haymitch’s slip gets called and Peeta volunteers for him, and the balance of his life or death comes down to me escaping the attacker. I cry out, I snarl, I push Peeta hard onto the rug several times, to the point that he starts rubbing his hip and wincing.

“Did I do it too hard?” I ask.

“Just a bruise,” Peeta says. “It’s good. We want you to be able to throw down like that in the arena.”

We practice all week, Peeta coming up with different scenarios and positions someone might attack us from. Behind, straight at us, grappling at our feet, even attacking from above, if they drop down from a tree. The one position that keeps giving me trouble, though, is on the ground when Peeta is on top of me. Even though I know I’m safe, even though I know Peeta won’t really hurt me, Clove and her dagger against my cheek come to mind and the technique Peeta drills us and I complete the technique fine slowed down. Any skill disappears the moment we put it into a semi-real play,  though. I thrash, trying to get out, and do everything wrong. And outside of it, I know I’m wrong, but I can’t stop myself from getting flustered and then resorting back to flailing under Peeta’s weight.

By Friday, it’s the one area I’m still floundering in and I’m beyond furious with myself for it. We finish in the late afternoon but I’m not satisfied with waiting until Sunday to pick this up again. I ask Peeta to stay and help me practice the position on the ground after, and he agrees. 

My mother and Prim leave us to it in the living room, which I’m grateful for because having any audience only increases my distress. 

Peeta starts in the position he always does: knees on the outside of my hips, hands around my throat as if coming in to choke me. Going slowly, I can break his hold from bringing my hands between us and forcing his arms away completely. But as his hold on my neck tightens slightly I start pushing my hips up to try and force him off and pulling at his arms, unsuccessful in getting him off, and the panic begins to build. 

After Peeta gets off, gives me a chance to breathe, and hands me a water bottle to drink from, he says, “We’re changing tactics. Going to practice a different situation.”

I begin to stand, but he shakes his head. “On your back again.”

I’m confused but obey, the vulnerability clawing at me in this position. Peeta kneels by my side, hip to hip as we face one another.

“I think being on your back is difficult for you because of what happened with Clove,” he says. “You’re stuck in how you fought her then.”

I give a small nod in confirmation.

“What I want to do is teach you how to get out of it,” Peeta says. “If you can do that, then the others will be easy. How’s that sound?”

I swallow. I don’t really like the idea of being in that position again, but I could very likely end up there again. So I say, “Go slow?”

Peeta gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and settles on me up higher, nearly on my chest, his knees bumped up against my triceps, which are stretched out so my body forms a T.

“We’ll just pretend I’ve pinned your arms for now,” Peeta says. “How do you think you get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s impossible!”

“Stop. Think. Right now, what’s free? What am I leaving open?”

I wiggle my body, feel the length of my hips and legs that have nothing pinning them down. 

“My legs.”

“Good. Now how can you move them?”

I experiment, but I’m not very tall so they can’t kick him well. I’m about to snap at him again when I realize what it is. I rock my hips to get momentum and then throw my legs over and around Peeta’s chest, crossing my feet, and pull him back as I thrust my legs down. Once he’s on the ground I wriggle out from underneath him and get on my feet. Sprawled on the floor with a smile on his face, we both start to laugh, with surprise and relief. It’s the first time we’ve laughed in a long time. 

“All right, think you can do it if my knees are on your arms?” Peeta asks.

“Let’s try it.”

We get in the same position, this time with Peeta’s knees pressing down on my arms. I do the move again, only this time as I roll us backward, his legs straighten behind my arms and he locks his real foot against his prosthetic one behind my head. With my arms free I turn to my side and try to drag myself away, only Peeta isn’t as easy-going this time and latches his hands around my knees, our legs still tangled together.

In the arena, I would fight dirty. Kick him in the nose, knee him between the legs. Anything. But we aren’t, and some other predator instinct comes over me. I propel myself up and onto my knees before he can make it onto his. The momentum rolls him back, one of my legs between the two of his. As I kneel above him, something in the dynamic shifts. For the first time this week, I’m on top of him while he’s on his back. And there’s something there in his eye, the way his chest moves up and down rapidly, the parting of his lips…somehow, it’s not about fighting anymore.

He could overpower me at this point. He’s a wrestler, he knows what to do to knock me down if he chose to. And so when I lean down, my hands bracing the space between his head, and my braid falling across my shoulder, it’s clear what we both want.

My lips find his as eager as mine, and we kiss like we’re one another’s last meal. We angle to get as close as we can with our mouths open and tongues stroking and I let my entire body weight drop on him, my fingers raking his hair. His arms wrap tightly around my waist, a more solid pinning than anything he’s put me in this week. When I pull his bottom lip between mine and give it a hard suck, I catch a groan that vibrates against my lips and sends a shudder down my body and to the pit of my stomach. 

Kissing Peeta…it’s never felt quite this good before.Not even that kiss in the cave that made me want more. Was all we needed a little privacy this whole time? 

Then I’m surprised with Peeta rolling us over so he’s hovering on top of me, and when his eyes open, curls from his forehead hanging over me, the moment breaks. We remember where we are, what we were doing, and why. For me, it makes me curl my fingers tight around Peeta’s shirt in hopes that he’ll stay, while he scrambles off of me.

“This didn’t happen,” he says, bending down to shove his shoes back on while I barely sit up.

“Yes, it did,” I say furiously. “It did happen, and don’t pretend you didn’t want it, too!”

“The fuck does it matter what I want?” Peeta practically shouts as he makes a quick tie of his right shoe, not even bothering to double-knot.  

“Because we only have a few more months,” I say, standing up over him while he finishes the other shoe. 

He shakes his head, the only response I get from this as he straightens up and turns away without looking at me. I grab for his hand and beg, “Peeta–”

He jerks his hand away and practically sprints toward the entryway door where I follow him, desperate to make this right. I don’t want us to fight again. I don’t want him to be distant anymore, or be this hard coach he’s turned into. I want my Peeta back. But I don’t know what to say. He glances back at me, and he must see something in my face, because there’s a crack in his own frustration now, a sadness he hasn’t let me see since the announcement of the Quell. 

“Please, Katniss,” he says, voice rough. “Please forget what we just did.”

I shake my head. “No.”

He closes his eyes and grimaces at my refusal. And then, he leaves.

[especiallyhaytham]

Never thought I'd be parsing AC3 for refs of period-accurate streetlamps but here we are

[yellowjacketslesbian]

What Van Palmer Means to Me

(this is an entirely self-indulgent rambling essay, but my options were writing this or sobbing over seeing adult Van in the trailer for the hundredth time)

A huge thank you to @woodenpicador for proofreading this and especially for all their encouragement to actually share this.

When I started watching Yellowjackets in December 2021 on a whim and a few friends’ recommendations, I couldn’t have predicted it would be my reason to join a fandom for the first time in my life. I definitely never expected to connect with one of the characters as deeply as I did.

But why would I expect to connect with one of the characters? I had never seen myself truly reflected media before. There have been a few characters I’ve felt some level of connection with over the years, like Jo March in Little Women and Kat Stratford in 10 Things I Hate About You, but my love for them and other characters was built on the foundation of headcanoning key changes to the characters’ identities (see: Jo March is a nonbinary lesbian in my heart). I had never before been able to truly see myself in a character as they were presented in the source material. As sad as it sounds, I don’t know if I ever really expected to get to see myself reflected back in a piece of media.

Van Palmer was the first time I truly saw myself on screen. Seeing her meant so much more to me than words can ever really describe, but I’ll make my sincerest attempt. Seeing a character be so unapologetically a lesbian and especially, a butch lesbian (in 1996, no less) was huge for me and I’m sure many other masc, butch, nonbinary, or otherwise gender nonconforming lesbians. While Van is far from the first butch lesbian in media (though we are severely underrepresented), she is one of the first I’ve seen that’s been allowed to exist fully beyond an amalgamation of stereotypes. She’s a fully realized character who is also butch lesbian. It’s so clearly evident that she’s a full character, not a prop for a storyline or a character created to check a representation box.

Van Palmer is a soft, sweet, loyal, caring, smart, funny, sarcastic, dorky film nerd who loves her girlfriend deeply, and she’s butch. She has so many traits beyond the more obvious parts of her identity and the beautiful thing about her characterization is that those traits are treated as just as much a part of her as her being butch. Van is butch and she’s soft. Van is butch and she’s loyal. Van is butch and she’s a dork.

For me, seeing a butch lesbian on screen who’s also inherently soft and sweet and loyal was groundbreaking. In a lot of ways, it infuriates me that having a butch/masc/gnc lesbian character with those traits in media has been so rare in the past. People who know masc/butch lesbians in real life can attest to those traits being the standard not the exception, but for a long time media portrayals of us have relied heavily on (mostly) negative stereotypes to paint a caricature of our identities rather than committing to an accurate portrayal of us as actual people.

Being exposed to negative stereotypes of masc lesbians in media and then hearing those biases repeated in real life made it so much harder for me personally to realize and accept that I’m butch and that I’m attracted to other masc/butch lesbians. When you grow up seeing and hearing only negative stereotypes about your identity, it’s so hard to embrace that identity.

Especially as someone who spent my teens and early college years heavily closeted for various reasons and could tolerate dressing more femininely, I spent some time after coming out as a lesbian trying to be femme, and femme4femme no less. It was so hard to accept that I was masc, knowing all the privileges I would have to give up to embrace that. It was even harder to allow myself to actually label myself as masc/butch knowing all the stereotypes that would come with that label.     

I remember being newly out to myself as a lesbian and going down the checklist of stereotypes in my head to reaffirm that I couldn’t possibly be masc or butch. This wasn’t exactly hard: the only example of a butch lesbians I had seen in media were hardened, stoic, archetypes of a “fuckboi” copy and pasted from Shane (to be clear, I love Shane, but it’s exhausting when she’s the only representation masc lesbians are allowed to have) with small details changed. As embarrassing as it is to admit how hard it was to accept myself back then, I want to illustrate why the representation masc/butch lesbians finally have in Van Palmer is so important and necessary.

Though I had already been presenting masc for a while when Yellowjackets aired, it wasn’t until I saw Van that I felt comfortable actually labeling myself as masc and butch and truly accepted that part of my identity. I was able to see a butch lesbian on screen being soft and vulnerable, where that softness wasn’t something she had to find but something that was as much a part of her as any other part of her identity. Watching Van be a soft, sweet, dork who uses sarcasm as her armor was the first time I saw myself reflected back in a piece of media. When I saw her on screen it was just this lightbulb moment of “oh, actually I can be butch and still be everything I already am.” Seeing real representation for the first time in my life in Van Palmer allowed me to actually accept my identity and stop trying to apologize to the world for being gender nonconforming.

At the same time, seeing Van was also a little bittersweet. I could see the person eighteen-year-old me had been too scared to be back in the mid-2010s. However, I’m so incredibly grateful that young butch/masc/nonbinary/gnc lesbians now have Van Palmer on their televisions because maybe, just maybe, I would’ve accepted myself a little bit sooner had I had a character like Van to look to back then.

Van’s very existence as a character has been a monumental stride for butch/masc representation, but her storyline in season one, including her relationship with Taissa have also demonstrated marked changes for the better in lesbian representation and queer representation overall that I never could have imagined. I watched Van’s New York monologue in episode seven and was immediately filled with dread because I had seen different iterations of that same monologue so many times before. They always ended in a beloved queer character dying too young and too soon. Van’s “death” at the end of episode seven didn’t shock me, because I had expected it since her and Taissa’s kiss in episode five. It was her survival in episode eight that did. The deliberate subversion of the “bury the gays” trope with Van was a true turning point in queer representation. The writers took what we have all been unfortunately trained to expect by decades of watching the characters who represent our identities die in the first act, and twisted it into a story of a queer characters survival time and again, despite all odds. That the queer character happens to be a butch lesbian, an identity that is often ignored altogether, makes her survival so much more meaningful. It’s also incredible that Van and Taissa are in not only a lesbian relationship (and they come out) in 1996, but also an interracial relationship. Depicting a relationship between a Black lesbian and a butch lesbian is huge when lesbian and sapphic representation is still predominately and nearly exclusively white femme4femme couples. I could write a whole different essay on why it’s so important to have Van and Taissa’s relationship on screen and praise the decision for them to be in an established relationship, but I’ll save that for a different day.  

The day we got the casting announcement for adult Van and I saw a post that read “Van lives,” I wept because it meant that I would continue to see myself on screen. While I had believed that Van would survive, I had watched people theorize (and almost delight in) all the different ways this character—who had finally given me and many other people representation—could die. That casting announcement allowed all of us who have known, loved, or been a Van to breathe a collective sigh of relief that those people had been wrong, and, as surreal as it seemed, Van Palmer would get to grow up.

After the casting announcement, the question loomed: Van lives, but would butch Van? At times, doubt crept in and I began to worry that the tradeoff for Van’s survival would be a feminized version of her that would be “more palatable for audiences” in the present timeline. When I saw the first promotional photos of adult Van I screamed “oh my god, they’re actually letting her be a dyke,” and then I sobbed. It was the moment I actually allowed myself to fully believe that I would get to see her grow up and become a true older version of the butch lesbian that had finally given me representation for the first time in my life.

I couldn’t possibly write this without acknowledging the actor who has single handedly made monumental strides in representation for butch, masc, nonbinary, and otherwise gender nonconforming lesbians everywhere by originating the role of Van Palmer. Liv Hewson brought Van to life with so much care and added so much to the character, in a way I don’t believe any other actor could have. From clocking Van as a lesbian long before they were told she is one to all of the improvisations they added, Liv had a huge role in creating Van. I’m not sure we would even be meeting adult Van in a few short weeks without Liv.

There are infinitely more things I could say about Van Palmer, but I’ll end here. I am so incredibly grateful to have Van as representation and I hope that everyone who has had a hand in bringing her to life on screen knows what she means to so many of us. I am placing my full trust in the writers to continue to beautifully portray this groundbreaking representation on screen and allow her story to continue in both timelines until the final episode. 

[zishuge]

i woke up last night in the middle of the night with the terrible, terrible thought that one day, hulijing would pass, and then it would be like li lianhua is gone for good

[machiroads]

i should rewrite this scene for the third time, that would be a really fun and neat activity for me to do

[werewolfetone]

Girl is this wheel of fucking fortune &c

[plugnuts]

Where was this writing energy when I was still writing zero_one?

[deer-with-a-stick]

At this point I stay exclusively on this website and Ao3 for fandom stuff but DAMN what the hell happened with the reviews

Castlevania Rotten Tomatos below for comparison

[ro-botany]

To hell with it. If I can wring essayposts out of Validar and Groom Robin, I can lay out some extended thoughts about my favourite Fire Emblem character’s new alt: Young Frederick. It would be weirder if I didn't. Buckle up for disorganized unedited blorbo opinions.

Under the cut, though, because this got longer than I was expecting.

---

The inclusion of the pebbles thing is just kind of par for the course with Frederick. It's been The Fred joke since his debut. It was a joke in Awakening, it's present in all three of his heroes units, and they even made a joke weapon about it in Fates. I wonder at what point they'll decide they've worn it out already. It's been 12 years, man.

But it is interesting that they're implying he picked up the pebble-clearing neuroticism so young.

My friend Ana (@/cannibal-lesbian) made a connection a while ago between the fact that Emmeryn had stones thrown at her in the early years of her rule, and Fred's insistence on clearing debris—rocks in particular—from the routes he knows that people he cares about will be taking. I think that's a pretty compelling connection to make.

Young Fred is already so damn worried about the royals all the time, and him overreacting to threats to their safety constitutes so much of his screen time... If he were present for any of the times that stone-throwing happened, if he was there when Emm got hurt badly enough by a thrown rock for it to scar long term, I can absolutely buy him deciding that no one in walking distance of his charges is allowed to have access to chuckable rocks ever again.

It also doesn't help that Chrom, at least when he's older, is known to overwork himself so much he's tripping on random shit from exhaustion. Young Chrom in Heroes is already pretty obsessed with protecting people, so maybe that sort of thing has already started.

As tired as I am of the pebble collection as manifestation of him being a big worrywart, the pouch o rocks in his art is such a cute detail that it's really hard to be mad about it. Look at him. Look at him with his lil rock bag.

---

Some of the most positive things I can say about Young Fred’s dialogue in Heroes actually apply to his part in the paralogue that came with the release of the baby Awakening units, Double Vision. Young Fred is flustered trying to take care of little baby Lissa, and then when she runs off anyway, he’s absolutely beside himself with worry. When she’s found and the kids all get to wondering about meeting older versions of themselves, he starts off anxious about the possibilities... then promptly gets lost daydreaming about how cool it would be to be a knight. The best knight, even.

Very often we see Fred’s overzealous devotion to the Ylissean royals; but it’s not very often that we get to directly confront the undercurrent of worry and perfectionism that in part drives that devotion. Perhaps the most acknowledgement Awakening itself gives us that Frederick’s stoicism is armour over staggering amounts of anxiety is in the spotpass chapter with Emmeryn. I’m happy to now have an example of this that isn’t also heart-breaking!

Besides that, it’s just cute. This little dude has his work cut out for him trying to babysit these chaos kids, and he has such big dreams too! He’s doing his best. I love him.

His profile voice lines continue this characterization trend. He’s earnest. He’s dedicated to his training. He gets all embarrassed that he’s not being a perfect knight yet. He’s being a bit of a dork, honestly, with the line about him dragging around too many pebbles for him to reasonably carry.

I love that so much of the dialogue associated with him is willing to put these personality traits out in the open like this. This Fred is still young and he hasn’t had time to build up that emotional armour yet. He's not had the time to build up his combat skills or figure out how he can best take care of the royals, and he's tripping a bit, and nervous, and throwing himself into it all the way.

I like it a lot. This was a good direction to take a younger Frederick. :]

His level 40 dialogue... dang it, okay, it’s just so cute, I need to gush about it. Fred’s fretting over the comfort of the royals again and decides to hand-knit a wall tapestry for their room, and now he’s come to ask Kiran their opinion of it, and you can tell he’s kinda nervous about it. Kiran looks at his art project and goes “You need to move this somewhere everyone can see. The world must be able to view it.” And listen ok that is my reaction too, Kiran, 100%.

Knitting a fucking tapestry. Generally you don’t... that’s not a knitting project, that’s more of a weaving project. But knitting is the fibercrafting skill that Frederick is familiar with, and he’s allergic to asking for help because he wants so badly to prove himself, so he just puts 150% effort into knitting a whole ass tapestry anyway. It’s perfect. This is a perfect level 40 conversation.

This is how you call back to obscure facts about characters. This exactly is how you do it. You show it off in a natural conversational way.

---

And unfortunately, my emphasis on that is a segue into the part where I have to get more critical.

Castle dialogue is usually some of my favourite to read in Heroes. I enjoy going to my home screen and checking up on all my little guys, seeing what they’re up to. It feels very much like Awakening’s barracks conversations.

I’m not sure if this is the result of an English localization issue, or if it’s also present in the original Japanese (which I cannot read), but the majority of Young Fred’s castle dialogue reads very much like.... someone was just ticking boxes. Like they ran out of enthusiasm after all the stuff above and just slapped some basic lines in to finish up the unit.

To illustrate what I mean, I’m going to pull some example lines off of some other characters first. Just tapping on the characters hanging around my home screen as I write this, I get lines like:

Chrom: I was practicing my swing and wound up smashing a pot. Forgive me, Kiran. Chrom: Back home, my Shepherds deal with outlaws and monsters. It’s strange that here we battle against Heroes. m!Robin: Do you have a moment to go over some tactical options? I’d love to hear your thoughts. m!Robin: Back home, I was always checking on everyone, too. It helps me relax, knowing they’re safe and well. Lissa: Sharena seems nice. I wonder if we could have a “princess chat” sometime... Lissa: I’ll put the frog here and... AH, Kiran?! Awww, you caught me before I pulled the BEST prank! Sully: I know you don’t fight, but I’ll teach you to defend yourself. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt ya too bad! Sully: Your commander seems strict—bet I could learn a lot from her. Maybe I’ll join the Order of Heroes... m!Morgan: Your white robe is too cool! But I’d expect nothing less from the tactician of the Order of Heroes. Say, can we... Swap robes? Just for a moment?!

With all of these lines, you get the sense that the characters are interacting with the world of Askr. They’re thinking about other characters like Anna and Sharena. They’re commenting on what it’s like to be in Askr. They’re talking to Kiran like we’re seeing one half of a conversation—Robin notices how you’re going around checking up on all the heroes on the home screen and talks to you about it, Chrom gets all embarrassed about training mishaps, Sully offers to train you, you bump into Lissa trying to pull a prank and spoil her fun...

All these characters are written to be really integrated into the daily life here in the Order of Heroes. We’re giving them tiny scenarios that let them show off their personalities splendidly.

...And then there’s Young Frederick’s castle dialogue. :|

Lord Chrom deserves only the most well-trained, battle-tested guardian. I hone my skills that I may fulfill that role. Lady Emmeryn accepted the role of exalt quite young. My lord Chrom shares her noble blood. My hobbies? I do enjoy foraging for mushrooms. When I happen upon a rare one, I nearly shake with glee! I fear no man or beast! Well...except perhaps that mountain wolf. Those memories are best left buried... Please, be silent... I am honing my concentration by focusing on this candle's flame until it dies out.

It’s all written in Fred’s voice, they did well at that... but... do you notice how much less lively this all feels, compared to the other characters’ lines above?

Pretty much every unit I’ve encountered in this game has at least a few castle lines where they’re just Saying A Fact about themselves or their backstory or something. But most of them also have conversational lines like the ones I highlighted, and... this Fred just... doesn’t! He just doesn’t.

They hit on a bunch of references to his dialogue in Awakening; even some really obscure ones, ones that you would miss if you didn’t do the right supports or encounter specific Barracks conversations. But they didn’t write them in a way that feels like natural conversation. They wrote them just to be references.

Look, look! We saw the Panne supports, guys! Look we’re calling back to the wolf backstory!! ...But they’re just making him say it outright. He’s listing off a fact about himself, not acting like a human person. Why tell and not show in this instance? Why not call back to that by, for example, having him react to the idea of meeting some of the beast units running around Askr? Make it conversational and make it reference the fact that that line came from a support with a beast unit. Perhaps something like: “Those shapeshifting Heroes... they don’t go around in animal form ALL the time, do they? ...N-not that I’m afraid or anything! I fear no man or beast!”

Ooo you remember how he likes fire? Yeeeaaah, we read his bio, we read that one barracks line! ...But you also chose to include this fact by... making him stand around staring very hard at a candle. This is just such a nothing burger of a line.

Hey guys! You remember the barracks line about mushrooms?! We did! Look, he likes mushrooms!!! ...Sure, and I genuinely am happy that the callback exists. It’s even kind of fun that we’re using the same scenario that was the context for learning this in Awakening, where we’ve asked Fred about his hobbies. But it’s not working for me here because we already have enough lines where he just says a fact about himself. Why would you not, say, have us encounter Fred while he’s hunting for mushrooms in the courtyard? Or perhaps we bump into him when he’s just coming back from foraging with some rare mushrooms he’s excited to tell us about? Or maybe he asks us if the royal library has any field guides on Askran mushrooms?

Just, something! Give me some kind of acting! Natural conversation! I’m happy that someone cared enough to dig up the obscure references, trust me, I am. But this execution is stiff as hell.

---

In the end I can’t really complain too much. New official Frederick content in the year 2024 was a complete shock and I’m delighted to have him around.

I’m at least a little disappointed we got no real opinions or clarifications on his backstory, or many things to speculate about; though I understand you can only do so much with minor characters while adhering to canon. And I wish they didn’t stumble so hard on the castle dialogue, because imo it’s some of the most important dialogue a Heroes unit has.

But the majority of his characterization and individual lines are well-executed. I’m quite pleased. The Frederick fans are eating well. :]

[altruistic-meme]

WIP friday, i guess. let's go!!!

here have some food. i am truly trying my hand out at some heavy hurt/comfort. we shall see if i ever finish and publish it

[mybrainproblems]

.

[nolassolace]

gonna continue to post my kinktobers in to November that way i can say i actually participated in something and finished it.

[cha1cedony]

Anyway. Feeling #normal and in the club 2nite 😁

[obxsummer]

wave of you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: more treasure hunting continues but your group takes time to enjoy the perfect surf day. it was perfect, that is until topper’s girlfriend becomes unhinged and you find yourself in the middle of an argument with… rafe cameron coming to your defense?

warnings: the usual obx angst, anxiety attacks, mentions of PTSD, cursing, crying. yeah.

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Sarah and John B had beat your half of the group back to the house, Kiara having been running the shop in the unexpected absences. After taking a shower to scrub the hospital off of you and changing into the comfiest clothes you could find, you joined everyone in the living area where everyone was sharing their half of the past few hours. 

John B and Sarah had taken the amulet to get an inscription translated into what you found out said Where the living and dead collide, the gatekeeper will guide the way, whatever that meant. They were kicked out shortly after revealing where the object was from, the individual telling them it was cursed. 

“Genrette was obsessed with Blackbeard, so maybe directions to his treasure?” John B theorized as he handed the amulet over to JJ.

“So, what is this treasure?” Cleo continued, “Gold?”

Pope shook his head. “No, I remember hearing something about like a… a crown, blue crown?”

His suggestion was immediately vetoed by Cleo and Kiara, neither girl believing a word he offered. You sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around you as you listened to them bicker. 

“Apparently, it is the most sought out artifact in the ancient world,” John B read off a page of a book he’d grabbed from the shelf. You squinted at the object in his hand, quietly asking yourself when your brother of all people read a book. “The blue crown was created for Darius the Great of Persia over 3,000 years ago.”

“That’s worth more than 50k.”

John B ignored JJ’s comment and continued, “It was said to possess the blessing of the gods themselves, granting the wearer immense favor and rare invincibility. Holy shit, look at this. Xerxes, the son of Darius the Great, he was a badass. He’s wearing it. Uh, Alexander the Great, beat the shit out of everybody. He’s wearing it. Julius Caesar, also a badass, murdered a bunch of people.”

“Dad told you all of this?” You asked him as he read the names off the pages. Pushing yourself to your feet, you moved to stand behind JJ and rested your chin on his shoulder as you looked over at what they were reading. He moved you into his side, thumb brushing your hip bone as he tugged you close.

John B shook his head at your question, glancing up at you. “No, no. I don’t remember any of this, I just know it granted wishes.”

“Like a genie?”

“Hold on, it says right here the crown was lost sometime in the 1700s, but it was rumored to be hunted down by… Blackbeard.”

There was no argument that the direction of the treasure hunt had been changed when it came to a priceless item versus 50k. The whole night shifted, turning into a bonfire and celebration between the group that brought everyone’s spirits back up.

“Oh, come on!” You complained as Pope smacked your burnt marshmallow from his face, sending the treat into the grass a few feet away. “Pope, that was my fuckin’ marshmallow!”

“I’ll make you a different one! The burnt ones are ass!”

You groaned in response and fake pouted before shaking the can of beer in your hand to find it empty. The six of you had been out here since sundown, embracing the thrill of the evening and what lay ahead. Despite hating the danger your group always seemed to head into, you missed this feeling of nostalgia and anticipation. 

JJ’s hands grabbed your hips as you got up from your folding chair, bumping into him as you did so. You covered his hand in the one that didn’t have an empty can and smiled at him. “My knight in shining armor.”

“At your service, baby,” He replied instantly, trading your empty can for the fresh one he had next to him. Once it was securely in your hand, he tugged on your waist until you fell into his lap, a squeal escaping your lips before the two of you lost balance with the momentum and tumbled backward into the grass. 

You screamed in shock, your beer flying away in the chaos as you rolled off JJ who was high off his ass and giggling loudly at the fall. You couldn’t stop the laughter escaping your lips and dropped into the grass completely, overwhelmed with happiness for the first time in what felt like forever. “You dumbass!” 

“C’mere!” 

Another yelp escaped you as JJ swooped you off the lawn and over his shoulder, hauling your ass toward the house with no explanation. 

“Oh come on!” John B groaned and covered his eyes with his hand as JJ carried you out of view, various whistles from the ground following. “Fuckin’ hate you, JJ!”

JJ flipped your brother off with his free hand and walked into the house, closing the door with his shoe before he gently placed your feet on the ground. You grinned up at him, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. 

“Did you need something?” You teased and faked innocence as you fluttered your eyelashes to drive the effect home.

JJ tsked his tongue, his fingers cupping your neck before he kissed you roughly, moaning at the way your body fell into him without hesitation. You knew he wasn’t going to hold back very long and there was a 100% chance your friends could walk in at any moment.

“Upstairs,” You rushed out as his lips dropped to your neck, nipping softly at your skin to make your knees even weaker. “Jay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, his kisses stopping long enough for him to crouch and loop his arms around your ass and waist and pick you up, your ankles crossing behind his back, supported by his strong grip. “Lemme love on you.”

You hummed, kissing him again and biting gently on his bottom lip in response to his request. “You can love on me as much as you went when it’s not somewhere John B can see it.”

JJ groaned and shook his head. “Please stop bringing up your brother when we’re making out.”

You laughed loudly as he started walking up the stairs to your room, his kisses lingering on your collarbone and his grip tight as he did. The lack of light was welcomed as you landed on the bed with a laugh, barely having a second to pull your shirt off and drop your shoes before JJ was hovering over you with a hungry desire in his eyes and a whole night to make you his, again and again, just as he intended to.

--

The next morning was a haze of blissful kisses and a warm shower between you and JJ, the house still silent as everyone slept. Your boyfriend wrapped you in a soft towel, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you he was going to check on the shack. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes before he was running through the house, waking everyone up and telling them about the swell.

The warm sunlight was shining through the window as you slipped on a swimsuit for the day, taking the time to brush your skin with sunscreen and grabbing one of John B’s lightweight shirts to slip on over your shoulders. The boys were already down prepping the boards with Kiara as you and Sarah took the time to make breakfast for everyone, knowing food would easily be forgotten in the excitement of the day.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you guys are seriously surfing today?” Pope walked across the screened-in porch while shoving his backpack on his shoulders.

You frowned at the sight of him in everyday clothes and not swimwear, “And you aren’t?”

Ever since you were little, you’d spent every surf day with the boys and Kiara. It was like the second the news of a perfect swell hit town, all bets were off and the beach was calling your name. Pope was usually the one to drag you out of bed for it, so to see him walking away was a surprise.

“Well, I don’t want to sell the million dollars I have in my hand for 50k so, I’m gonna look into this.” He held up the amulet for emphasis.

JJ looked just as confused as you did. “Wait, Pope. Didn’t you hear me? It’s a perfect swell day.”

“Yeah, and there will be other swell days.”

Low whistles and ‘ooohs’ followed his statement, the group collectively disagreeing with his mindset. John B turned to Sarah from his spot where he was waxing your board. “You wanna maximize beach day?”

Sarah pursed her lips. “I wanna maximize this tan.”

You bit into your toast and pushed at her with your toes. “Sarah Cameron, I know you used to be a Kook but you’ll learn how to surf the Pogue way today.”

She rolled her eyes in fake annoyance before pushing at your foot, sending you off balance from your stool as you yelped before laughing. 

“Well, everyone have fun maximizing.” 

“Wait!” You called out to Pope as he turned on his heels to leave. “Where’s Cleo? I have to see her on a board. She’s gotta be insane with it.”

Pope shrugged, “She texted me, said she’s looking for bait in The Cut.”

“Lame, tell her we’re closed!” Kie argued back.

JJ continued to try and convince Pope to join you all on the beach, but the boy wasn’t having it, his mind stubborn on exploring more info on the amulet for the day. He informed you all he texted Cleo to meet up before hopping on his bike and disappearing from view. 

You weren’t sure how the boys managed to get all the boards on the Twinkie, or honestly, you didn’t want to know, but the second the sand was in between your toes, you didn’t have a care in the world. Surfing was always one of your favorite pastimes. The sunshine, the water, and the feeling of landing a good wave were so rewarding. 

John B had managed to find the group an open spot on the beach to set up chairs and the umbrella he almost took JJ’s eye out with. You took off in the sand and dove headfirst into the water, relishing in the refresh it gave you as the water crossed over. It had been so long since you had nothing to do besides lay in the salty water.

The peace didn’t last long, of course. Topper and his rowdy group pulled up in their newer vehicles, purposely parking close to your group as if it would make a point. You rolled your eyes at the sight of them, knowing this wouldn’t end well because it just never really did. 

JJ met you in the water with both of your boards in hand, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the group piling out of the cars which happened to include Rafe Cameron.  

“I won’t let anything happen,” JJ attempted to reassure you as he stopped to kiss your temple, sliding your board into your hands. You gave him a weak nod but didn’t move your gaze as you watched Topper move closer to your setup where he intercepted John B. 

Your hands moved to give JJ the board back as you walked out of the water to approach the two boys. You didn’t need John B doing anything irrational, especially if Topper pushed his buttons the way he normally did.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Topper acknowledged as you came to stand next to your brother with crossed arms. 

“Top.” You nodded in his direction, not backing down in your defensive approach.

Topper motioned toward John B, “I was just hashing things out, you know. Friendly banter to get things even.”

“Do you really think it’s even, Topper?” You asked him as the list began to run through your head. Every time you guys got the slight upper hand, the Kooks took you down two pegs.

Topper pursed his lips and looked away from you. “Uh, let’s go down the list. You guys sunk my boat.”

“Allegedly.”

“Then you cold-cocked me and put me in the ER, remember?” He looked at John B pointedly like it was the worst thing ever.

“You beat the shit out of Pope,” You reminded him. “Or, how about pushing John B off a two-story building, hmm?”

Topper rolled his eyes and pointed behind John B. “Look, I was with her first, bro. If your girl comes to me, if she can’t resist….” 

“Real mature of you, Topper. Oh, by the way, thanks for burning our house down,” John B replied, his fingers twitching to throw the first punch, but he wouldn’t with you standing next to him.

You sneered at Topper’s attitude and stepped forward to block John B in case the emotions got the best of either boy. “Just here to surf, Top. Unless you had more to say?”

Topper’s eyes glanced behind you before he cleared his throat and refocused with no further argument. “No, no. Just here to surf.”

You hummed in agreement as he turned to walk away, mumbling something about having a good chat. Waiting until he was far enough on his side, you shifted back around to see JJ standing a few feet behind you, glare sharp enough to kill the Kook. No wonder Topper about shit his pants.

“C’mon.” John B grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the scene. You didn’t miss the way Rafe stared at you the entire time despite the new brunette he seemed to have attached to his hip. It took one glance to know she wasn’t a Kook, especially with the obvious discomfort she held around the group. 

Pushing their presence to the back of your mind, you allowed John B and JJ to tug you out into the warm sea, Kiara and Sarah following behind the three of you as the waves started to kick up. It became a routine of swapping waves, dropping in amongst your friends’ cheers and applause. Even Sarah managed to grab a couple and remain on her feet for the course into shore, which had all of you celebrating.

Hours passed between the sun and waves before you flopped on a towel and treated yourself to a midday nap. Sarah had the right idea when she said she would maximize her tan, the warm rays lulling you to sleep before you knew it.

JJ pulled himself out of the water, brushing as much from his hair as possible so he didn’t look like a wet dog. He didn’t feel half bad dropping in on a wave that Topper supposedly thought he could claim. JJ laughed to himself; the damn Kook should know better than to try to out-surf a Pogue. 

His eyes caught sight of you sound asleep and cuddled up on the oversized towel you insisted on grabbing for yourself at the thrift store. It was rare nowadays for you to sleep without someone by your side, especially at night. There were too many times when you’d crash on the hammock before the group came in and you woke someone up with a heavy scream. 

In the years JJ had known you, he’d never considered you to be weak or broken. You’d always been an example of strength in his eyes, someone who could persevere even the toughest of challenges. He knew it took a little bit of support now and then, but you were healing, and he was so, so proud of you. You’d shared such vulnerable moments with him, and though he wished he could take the pain away, he knew it was a process. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to share about his dad with you, so he understood the hesitancy you had when it came to unpacking what occurred while John B was gone. 

Usually, when you caught sight of Rafe, you shut down completely. JJ didn’t pry to ask what all happened when you were stuck with him, trusting that in time you would open up and share when you were comfortable. He was grateful that you felt comfortable enough with them around to sleep even though the person who’d taken so much from you was so close by. 

“Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!”

Kiara’s excitement woke you up from the warmth of the sand, your eyes blinking in an attempt to adjust to the sunlight. You shifted to see where she was pointing, noticing the little movements of sand and the dark figures poking out. Pushing yourself to your feet, your friends scurried around to make a path in hopes of guiding the baby turtles safely toward the water.

You quickly tossed John B your towel to drag out the terrain evenly before taking a closer look at the small creatures, wishing you could pick one up but knowing better. “They’re so cute, what the fuck!”

“Make a turtle highway,” Sarah laughed beside you, the two of soaking up the once-in-a-lifetime event as Kie continued to build a path with the boys. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a few photos of the event, including one of Sarah pointing at the little turtles as they cruised by.

The sound of a revving engine pulled your attention away and toward where Topper’s supped-up Jeep was approaching. You frowned at the sight, not sure what his intentions were before you noticed Topper wasn’t even driving, Ruthie was.

“Hey!” Kiara stood up and waved her hands in the air, “Stop! There’s a hatch!”

“Topper, stop!” You yelled next, trying to point around the current path of the turtles who were moving as fast as their little bodies could take them. “Move!”

There was barely enough time for JJ and Kiara to throw themselves out of the way of the oncoming Jeep, thankfully missing the turtles and the near-death of the duo. You could hear Ruthie’s obnoxious laugh behind you as you faced the Kook group who apparently, found attempted murder funny.

“Hey!” You were shouting before you had a chance to think it through, feet stomping through the sand to carry you closer to where Kelce and his friends found it hysterical. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

Kelce continued to laugh as Topper’s Jeep revved once more, coming to a stop next to you. “Maybe next time don’t drop in on our surf,” Kelce’s voice dropped deeper as he approached you, gaze darkening when he was eye to eye with you.

“Fuck you, Kelce. Whatever ego you all have that you think entitles you to run over baby turtles is sick,” You spat, pushing against his chest causing his friends to ‘ooh’ at your action. Not only did they almost ruin the hatch, but Kie and JJ were inches from getting run over because of their stupidity.

“Turtles?” A voice next to you stopped you from spitting another nasty curse at the group now that Topper and Ruthie had rejoined. You looked over to see the brunette girl looking back at you, her gaze familiar before you caught Rafe watching over her shoulder. “There were turtles?”

The heartbreak in her voice surprised you. You figured anyone following Rafe around would have the same cruel attitude he did, but the empathy you weren’t expecting. 

“Go back to The Cut,” Ruthie interrupted whatever explanation you were considering giving. 

You turned to glare at her, closing the distance between the two of you as you poked at her chest. “You have five seconds before JJ gets over here and loses his shit on all of you, so, I’d watch your words, Ruthie, before they bite you in the ass. You’re a pathetic excuse for a human, and I hope you’re fucking ashamed of your actions.”

The group clearly hadn’t expected you, of all people, to come mouth off about their actions. Silence filled the group, the girl in front of you at a loss of words that someone actually dared put her in her place. 

“Look, we didn’t mean to-“

“Shut the fuck up, Topper!” You snapped at him, sick of his attempts to appear innocent despite all the damage he caused. “What happened to just here to surf, huh? Or is attempted murder always in the back of your mind?”

“Hey watch it-“

“Fucking leave, Pogue!”

“Get the hell out of here!”

“Hey, hey! Enough!” It was Rafe who put himself between you and Ruthie’s incoming hands. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified and took a step back, feet stumbling as you did so. You stared at him, horrified as his gaze met yours and stole all the air from your lungs. 

“Bitch can barely look him in the eye,” Ruthie laughed behind Rafe, but you made no move to correct her, terrified that even a breath in the wrong way would end your life. Rafe Cameron, of all people, to be the one to stop someone from harming you was a sick joke.

“Rafe?” The brunette girl next to him grabbed his arm, her eyes taking in your terrified expression. It was then that you recognized her. Sofia, the girl who you’d unfortunately come to know too well in the therapy sessions John B had forced you to attempt. The two of you had shared so much with each other but never once had you run into her since you stopped going months ago. She seemed to process who you were then too, a silent conversation running through her head as she mouthed your name. 

At that moment, someone ran up behind you, hands landing on your hips before you were moved into another set of arms. You caught sight of JJ stepping closer to Rafe, likely starting an argument that you could only hope didn’t end with a fight. 

“You’re okay, I’ve got ya.” John B turned you around to redirect your gaze, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he started walking back toward the Twinkie. Everything turned to a haze, the adrenaline wearing off enough that you were heading into the inevitable anxiety attack. 

“If you come near her, or any one of us, ever again, I’ll come back and kill every single one of you.” JJ’s threat wasn’t a light one, and you were certain it would come back to bite him in the ass considering the Kooks would take it and run with it. 

Your heart was beating rapidly in your ears as John B pushed you into the passenger seat of the Twinkie, his hands grabbing both of your cheeks as you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breath. Sarah’s grip on your hand was light as she climbed in the driver’s seat to sit on your other side. 

“What the hell was that?” Kiara’s shout echoed through the van, ringing in your ears and causing you to squeeze your eyes closed even harder. “What did you say to them?”

“Kie, shut up!” Sarah was yelling back at her, their voices blending together as you tucked your knees to your chest and curled into a ball. The shakiness was setting in and all you could do was beg your body to calm down and catch up to your actions.  

You forced your eyes to open, blinking as you managed to catch Sofia’s gaze across the sand. How you didn’t put the pieces together that’s who she was, you weren’t sure, but a pit grew in your stomach when you realized you’d spilled so much in those sessions that she was present for. Most, if not all of it, about Rafe. 

Air choked in your lungs, and aggressive coughs followed before JJ’s hand was against your chest to keep you upright. His fingers were gently against your jawline as he kept your head up in an attempt to help you breathe correctly.

“You’re alright, baby. Just keep breathing, yeah?”

John B had left your vision, same with Sarah, leaving you face to face with your boyfriend. He climbed over you to sit in the seat Sarah had once occupied and pulled your legs out to rest over his. The desire to curl up and cramp your muscles happened more than often and he’d picked up on that after a few anxiety attacks, recognizing your patterns and habits. 

JJ forced his hands in yours, keeping your fingers from stabbing your palms as you fought to take deep breaths, your body still on high alert even though your mind was coming back down. 

“There you go, good girl,” His encouragement made you smile slightly, knowing he was messing with you on purpose. Moving forward, you puddled into his lap without a word, and he welcomed you with open arms. Physical contact helped more in the recent moments, something you never expected considering you used to be so fearful of someone’s touch. 

JJ shuffled with you in his grasp, tugging the door closed to prevent unwelcome eyes from seeing you in such a vulnerable moment. John B was climbing in the driver seat shortly after, Sarah joining in the back before all doors were closed. Your breathing was slowing, muscles finding the forgiveness to loosen up on you but refused to move from JJ’s lap until your head was back in one piece.

“Kie?” You mumbled into his shoulder. The girl was clearly upset with you, but you didn’t have the capacity to question why.

“Walking,” John B replied simply as he started the old van. “Needs to clear her fuckin’ head.”

Sarah shushed him and you could hear her hand connect with his body gently, a grumbled protest coming from your brother in response. A comfortable silence filled the vehicle as John B drove away from the beach and started his course back home.

--

Exhaustion had set in on the drive, your body heavy in JJ’s hold as you listened to the occupants other than yourself share small chatter. Words weren’t enough to describe how grateful you were to your friends and brother for always supporting you no matter what. You knew it was a handful, hell, it wasn’t easy yourself, but the fact that they showed up time and time again said everything.

“Sorry about everything,” You apologized as John B parked the van in front of the house, ending your adventure for the day. “I’m trying to fix it and it just-”

“Hey,” Sarah interrupted your explanation as she popped her head over the seat. “No apologies. We’ve talked about that. Don’t apologize, ever.”

She left no room for argument and opened the back door to slide out. You looked at JJ and John B, both boys shrugged in agreement with her, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe we could rethink therapy?” John B suggested as he watched you rub your face to rid yourself of tear marks. You shook your head, giving no verbal answer.

Therapy had been shit for you. When you first came back from El Dorado, the hospital had taken one look at you, post-gunshot stitches, and deemed you unsound. You went with it for a while, going to the group sessions and spilling stories without any names. Then you realized how cruel people were when they started comparing trauma and you never went back again.

JJ’s grip loosened so you could climb out of the van, arm slinging over your shoulder to keep you close as he followed you. Sarah joined your side, pulling your hand in hers to swing back and forth as the four of you started heading toward the house where Pope had come out the side door.

“Yo!” JJ called in greeting. “What’d you find?”

Silence followed the question, shifting your attention to Pope instead of the ground. The shock on his face was evident and your gaze immediately dropped to the dark red smears on his shirt and hands. 

“Oh, shit.” Sarah was turning you into her instantly, both JJ and John B getting closer to Pope with an onslaught of questions. You kept your eyes on her, squeezing her hand tightly in attempt to keep your mind from getting involved.

“What happened?”

“Where’s Cleo?”

“She’s inside.” It was the only answer Pope had to give, and it sent JJ inside scrambling for the girl in question, fearing what he would find. John B grabbed ahold of Pope, steering him back to the house without any further questions before Sarah started to guide you along with the fresh blood out of view. 

Sarah looked at you expectantly as you made your way through the door into whatever chaos you’d subjected yourself to. The girl next to you stopped short and shifted your path into the kitchen, rerouting you from whatever she’d caught sight of before you could. JJ was already in there, pushing a water into your hand and lifting you onto the kitchen counter without another word.

To your relief, Cleo moved in shortly after, her expression stoic and unreadable before Sarah left your side and you could barely hear Kiara’s voice joining whatever conversation was happening a room over.

JJ placed his hands on each side of your body before kissing you softly, pulling your mind to him and only him. You hummed quietly, fingers tangling in his hair for a moment before he shifted away.

“Can you tell me?” You asked quietly, not wanted to push too far if Cleo was clearly so upset. 

He glanced at the girl behind you before answering, “Terrance’s body is in the other room.” 

JJ watched you as you processed the information, a million questions running through your mind that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Apparently, there was no time to, as JJ’s eyes caught on to something out the window behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed the all too familiar Kildare County Sheriff’s Office truck, and your heart sank to your ass.

“J-“

“Upstairs,” He replied with no room for disagreement. “Our room or balcony, kay? I’ll send Sarah.”

You nodded, doing what he said without another question and bolted up the stairs with your heart pounding in your chest. Sarah’s footsteps were behind you moments later, the two of you finding sanctuary on the balcony outside your shared room with JJ. 

The sun was beginning to set and cast an orange lighting over the two of you as you piled into the hammock. Sarah leaned her head against yours just as another figure joined your group. Cleo fell on top of the two of you with a huff, both you and Sarah wrapping her up tightly into your cuddle puddle. 

And suddenly, all you could hear, was silence.

How the fuck did the cards fall this way every single time?

--

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