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brynwrites · 4 years ago

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Plot progression: points, twists, and hinges.

(And why hinges rock.)

Please excuse me while I assign already well-loved terms new meanings for my own benefit. (This is to say, writing terminology means something slightly different or goes by slightly different terms depending on who you ask. Two of the definitions I use here are based ones that stuck with me, while the third is something I pulled right out of my backside because it didn’t quite fit with my acquired definitions of the other two. Other terms and definitions are equally valid; I’m just using these ones until I figure out how to telepathically funnel wordless concepts.)

First let’s get basic: What’s a plot anyway? Tis a bunch of things that happen to move your character toward something. Usually this something is a goal. Win the war. Find the killer. Survive the winter. Get through the wedding. Kill the dragon.

Plots (should) have important scenes within them which propel them along. A full book that’s just a knight walking on a path for twenty-five chapters thinking about killing a dragon and then finally reaching the dragon to do so it boring. A book about a knight facing random trials that have nothing to do with the dragon she’s set out to kill is more interesting then walking. But the most engaging version of this plot would be if each trial she faced was connected to the dragon killing in some way.

We could, if we wanted to, label each of these trials with terms like plot point, a plot twist, or a plot hinge, depending on how they interact with the story as a whole. (Now I have to define what each of these terms mean to me. I set myself up here, didn’t I?)

We probably all know what a plot twist is. A big reveal. A shocking conclusion. A revelation that puts the whole story into a new light. (Luke, I am your father!)

Most writers will describe a plot point as some version of ‘an event which progresses the plot.’ This is all fine and dandy until you have to decide what counts as progress and how much of it you need for something to genuinely be a plot point. For the sake of this article, I’m going to call it anything that has a noticeable effect on either the ultimate or immediate goal of the story.

A plot hinge is a type of plot point. It can also include a plot twist. But not all plot twists or plot points are plot hinges, because a hinge actively swings the plot in a new direction. It takes the goal the story is set upon, and it rattles that mother-fork until its eyes pop out.

Let’s have some examples, shall we?

A knight is crossing a mountain on her way to slay a dragon.

While at the mountain, she fights a random dwarf. It’s a nice action bit where she’s in peril a few times and at the end, she kills the dwarf and continues down the other side of the mountain. A real page turner. (Spoilers: it’s probably, actually, not.) It’s also not a plot point (or, a plot anything), because the entire segment could have been cut without anything else changing. This whole scenario has no effect on what the plot’s current goal is, how it’s being accomplished, or how we perceive it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight fights a dwarf with ancient knowledge on forging dragon-killing weaponry and convinces him to forge her a dragon-killing sword that ends up being the only reason she can kill the dragon at all, then you have what’s purely a plot point. The goal of the plot hasn’t been altered, nor our perception of it, but we’ve taken an irremovable step towards accomplishing it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight uncovers ancient knowledge that reveals the villainous dragon is actually part of a much larger system of dragons with magical human form, and her own mother was secretly a dragon, giving her dragon blood of her own, this is purely a plot twist. The goal of the plot hasn’t changed, and we’re not closer to having killed the dragon, but our perception of the plot, how our main character fits within it, and what it should mean to us as readers, has been altered.

Pretty basic, yes?

Now imagine that those two things both happen while our knight is at the mountain, but as she’s leaving, the dragon she’s been riding out to face finds her. They battle. Barely prepared, our knight is losing terribly. She tries to flee, making it to the nearest town before the dragon finds her. In order to lay him low, his must use both her dwarfish weapon and her secret dragon powers. The town sees this, and decides she, too, is the enemy. A town guard steals her dragon-killing sword and tries to slay her with it. In a moment of compassion, the dragon she nearly killed helps her escape the town, but every knight our valiant half-dragon once fought alongside now sees her as a monster. And they’re coming for her.

This is a plot hinge. We just flipped out perception of the plot, tackled and crashed right through our main goal, and opened the doors for a new goal that’s still adjacent to our original one (and might still lead back to it by the end of the book—who knows, the villainous dragon might still need to be killed after all).

The trick with plot hinges, is the throw the reader for just enough of a loop to make the story fresh and interesting, without letting them question why the story before and after the plot hinge aren’t separate books. For a plot hinge to work, the plot must be pushed without being torn off the hinges. The old goal can’t be left dangling, limp with unfulfilled promise, and the new goal must build off everything the book has already established.

When done well, though, a plot hinge can turn a “this is enjoyable!” story into one that makes readers go “oh god, please read this, I NEED someone to scream at, I’m literally dying.”

I’m not going to tell you how many of these you should have in any given story. I’m not even going to tell you that you need to have any of them. (That would be hypocritical, as not all of my own stories do. Some are pulled along by simply plot points and twists, and they’re still perfectly enjoyable, if I do say so myself.)

You can also slip plot hinges into side plots, and make cases for what constitutes a hinge in character development. And at the end of the day, there’s a hundred different ways to build tension into a story and engage the reader. This is just the one I’m having fun identifying and analyzing at the moment.

And I hope you can set out and have fun with it to.

(Also, call it by my personal terminology. Pretend I, and I alone, invented a brand-new kind of plot point. Buy my book. Ascend me to godhood. Rebel and kill god-me to take back the world for humanity. Something like that.)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #writing help #writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writers on writing #amwriting #creative writing #plot points #writing tag: plots #plot tag: plot points #plot tag: plot twists #scheduled post #Just something I was thinking about this week

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empyreanwritings · 5 years ago

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Almost Lost You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: near-death experience, mentions of blood loss, anxiety, minor angst with a happy ending

A/N: Look at me finally putting out a one-shot that isn’t mob related. Aren’t y’all proud of me? adklfjdsf this is written for @mycupoffanfiction ‘s writing challenge! My prompt will be bolded below - congrats on your milestone bby! you deserve all the followers in the world <3

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

The kitchen grew silent the moment you stepped into it. Everyone's eyes were on you, and you could tell they were gauging whether or not they could run over and hug you. Bucky was the first one up and pulling you into a hug, not caring if your body was still healing. You heard Natasha scolding him from her spot at the counter, but he didn't loosen his grip until you hugged him back.

One by one, the rest of the team walked over to give you hugs or gentle pats on the back. You pretended not to notice the way Natasha choked up when she came over to you. Almost losing you was hard on everyone, but she didn't want the others to think she was going soft.

"I'm surprised they discharged you already," Steve said as he made you a plate of eggs. "Did they have any say in the matter?"

"They did," you snorted. "Helen said I'm recovering a lot quicker than she expected. I can't go on assignments just yet, but I don't have to be cooped up in the med bay either."

"What's the damage?"

Bucky was the one to ask this question. Steve threw a glare over his shoulder, and the others didn't seem so pleased with it, but you smiled. It didn't bother you to talk about what the bomb did, especially with Bucky. He, of all people, knew what it was like to be scarred for the rest of your life. His metal arm was a constant reminder of who he used to be.

"The right side of my body was burned pretty bad, so there's going to be a lot of scarring once it's fully healed. Helen wanted to put me in the cradle and recreate the tissue, but I told her no, so we're doing it the old-fashioned way."

"Why? Wouldn't anyone want to keep themselves from being permanently damaged?"

You shrugged. "I think it's a good reminder that I'm still human. My powers may make me think I'm invincible, but I'm not."

There was a faraway look in Bucky's eyes when you said this, and you gave his shoulder a small squeeze to pull him out of his thoughts. He gave you a small smile and a nod before diving back into his breakfast.

By the looks on everyone else's faces, they didn't understand why you chose to heal naturally. The whole "I want to remember I'm human" reason didn't seem like a good enough reason to be scarred for the rest of your life, but you weren't going to explain it to them. There was nothing more to explain; you made a bad call in the middle of an assignment because you didn't think anything could ever hurt you, and you got hurt. You were feeling a lot more humble lately because of it.

You looked around the room, trying to spot the one person you've been craving to see since you woke up. Steve noticed your wandering eyes and shook his head - she hadn't joined anyone for breakfast since that day. She stayed locked in her room most of the time.

You stuffed the rest of your eggs into your mouth and quickly excused yourself to find Wanda. You felt a small twinge of anger at her for shutting herself away from everyone else - away from you. She never once visited you when you woke up, and while you appreciated everyone else's love, you really only wanted her company. Every day she didn't visit, you grew just a little more upset.

Wanda's eyes grew wide when she opened her bedroom door and found you standing on the other side. She silently took in your appearance; you noticed the way her eyes lingered on the bandages wrapped tightly around your arm and torso and sighed. It looked like it pained her to see you like this.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one you are avoiding." You pushed your way past her and made your way to her bed. You plopped onto the side you know she normally slept on and pulled one of her pillows on your lap. She didn't move from her spot by the door, and it only made the anger inside of you bubble up more.

You gestured to the corner of her room where her desk lamp lied in pieces on the floor. "What happened over there?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, right, nothing," you hummed in annoyance. "Because that certainly looks like nothing. You don't visit me in the med bay; you shut yourself in this room and avoid the rest of the team; and your desk lamp is broken, but it's nothing! Everything is fine and dandy in Wanda's head."

She shook her head. "Don't start, please."

"Don't start what? I'm just trying to understand why the hell you've been avoiding me!" You sat up and looked Wanda straight in the eye. You wanted to understand what she was feeling, and you wanted her to feel the heartbreak you felt when your best friend didn't come to check on you. But she broke your gaze and looked down at her feet. "I can understand the others because they're, sometimes, lame but me? I needed you, and you weren't there."

She stayed silent. She refused to look up at you and face the anger you clearly felt, and you let out a small, humorless laugh. If she didn't want to talk, you wouldn't force her. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for her, either.

You slid off her bed and made your way back to the door. You stopped in front of her, gave her a moment to see if she would say anything, but when she didn't, you scoffed and left without another word.

"Y/n, wait-" She tried to reach out for you, but she stopped in fear of grabbing the wrong arm. She didn't want to hurt you or make anything worse.

"No, forget it. I have nothing else to say to you. If you want to keep avoiding me and the rest of the team, that's fine."

"Please just listen to me for one second."

"Just tell me why you're being so fucking weird recently!"

She bit her lip. Tears started to well up in her eyes, and you felt your anger instantly dissipate. Seeing her so torn up made you forget why you were mad in the first place. You hated yourself for raising your voice at her, but she didn't give you time to take back your words because she was pulling you into a hug before she could.

"I'm in love with you," she sobbed as she nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm in love with you, and I almost lost you. Do you understand how that felt for me? To hold you in my arms and watch the light literally leave your eyes?"

You weren't sure what to say. You had no idea what that must have been like for her - it was something you never had to experience, thankfully. While you were recovering from the blast, Wanda lived with the memories of watching you fade away from her. No matter how much she begged you to stay awake, no matter how much she wished it was her instead of you, you almost died. And she couldn't help but blame herself for not getting to your dumb ass sooner. Maybe she could have convinced you to be a little more cautious.

Maybe she could have saved you before the bomb went off.

"I took so many showers that night," she confessed quietly, "But I still couldn't get the feeling of your blood off my arms. I tried to come see you - I really did - but every time I stood outside your room, I just remembered the look on your face when you-"

You shushed her, not wanting to work herself up with the memories of what happened. She melted in your embrace when you started to run your fingers through her hair.

She thought she lost your touch forever. She thought she was going to have to live with the fact she loved you and never got to tell you. You could no longer be angry with her for not visiting you because you couldn't imagine that kind of torture.

If you lost Wanda…you weren’t sure you'd be able to keep it together.

You weren't sure how long she stood in your arms, but you had no intention of making her move until she was ready. She needed the chance to enjoy having you back, and you weren't going to take that away from her. Even if your legs were starting to fall asleep from standing so straight.

At one point, Bucky and Steve were making their way towards the hallway, but you quickly shook your head and made them turn in the other direction. Wanda would be horrified if she knew the others saw her breaking down like this. They could handle not going back to their room for another hour or so.

Wanda pulled away slowly and wiped at her eyes to control some of the mascara that was running down her cheeks.

"I look like a mess, don't I?"

You shook your head. "You look beautiful as always."

"I didn't mean for all that to come out," she murmured. "You don't have to say anything back. I understand that I unloaded a lot on you."

There was a lot you wanted to say. If you could take back the stupid decisions you made, you would. You didn't think about how your actions would affect those around you, and you should have. You were aware of that now. You could spend the rest of your life making up for what you did, but no one would ever ask you to do that.

You saved a lot of citizens that day. As much as your team hated what you did, they knew what would have happened if you didn't take the risk.

Wanda waited for you to say something. You could tell by the way she rocked back and forth on her feet that she felt awkward, but she wasn't going to admit that out loud. She had done enough confessing to last a lifetime.

"Ya know, I think I've loved you since the day we met," you replied after another beat of silence.

"You did not!" She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a liar. You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm not, I really think I did!"

"Stop, you're literally such a liar. We hated each other when we first met."

You gasped. "Did not! I didn't particularly like you because you knocked me on my ass and looked hot as hell while doing it, but I could never hate you."

She looked back down at her feet, trying to conceal the smile on her face with her hair, but it was useless. You already saw it before she even had a chance to hide, and it made a smile grow on your face as well. You thought about making a cheesy comment about how she had the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen, but she wouldn't believe you. Yet.

"There's the smile I love seeing," you teased and gave her side a gentle nudge. "Do you want to get some breakfast?"

"I'm okay. I actually haven't slept yet, and I think my energy is officially sapped from my body." You nodded, taking a step back so she can have some air. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to."

Your eyebrows raised, and your smile grew wider at her word. "Oh?"

"I mean, I just-" She huffed. "I'm just saying, I know you probably didn't sleep well in the med bay, so if you wanted to catch up on sleep, you can do it in my room."

"You don't have to ask me twice, darling."

Wanda stepped aside and let you back into the room. You took a few steps forward but stopped before you went too far. She began to question your actions, but you whirled around and pulled her back into an embrace, this time taking the chance to finally kiss her.

Your hands were on her cheeks. You felt her hesitate for the slightest moment, but she eased into it before you could step back and wonder if this was okay. The second her hands found your hips and pulled you closer, you knew she was more than okay with this moment.

It wasn't a passionate kiss; it was slow and tender. It was your way of reminding her that you were okay, and you weren't going to leave her any time soon. Comfort. Love. Need. The kiss was everything you wanted to say but couldn't find the words to truly convey how you felt, and it was more than enough for Wanda. For the first time since the accident, she felt like she could finally breathe.

"Believe me now?" You mumbled against her lips.

She hummed in amusement. "Not for a second."

"I guess I'll have to keep trying."

"I guess you'll have to."

#ellies1500 #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch one shot #scarlet witch fanfiction

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

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When Everyone Who Loves me Has Died

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

"Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.”

“Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing.

“Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.”

Whoever came up with the concept of mind over matter should be imprisoned for false advertising. Tim has been trying to get his mind over the matter for months now, and the matters are still very much gripping the steering wheel. If anything, his mind gave in and slid into the passenger seat, going along for the ride. Tim is sitting on a billboard platform, Lex Luthor’s ginormous bald self providing a nauseating backdrop as he advertises whatever world domination kick he’s on at the moment. Tim watches the cars go by on the highway, utterly indifferent to the tiny speck of a vigilante watching from above. His cowl is down, but he isn’t worried. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to spot him up here, civilian or otherwise. Besides, it gets harder and harder to breathe under the weight of the mask these days. He was supposed to be getting better. The days are coming in at longer intervals, which should be a relief. Days when he gets “dark and twisty” as Jason lovingly calls it, which isn’t too far off, Tim supposes. Something inside of him is definitely twisted, coiled into a furl of darkness where there used to be light. God, he needs therapy. He should be getting better. There is no logical reason to be feeling this way. Not anymore. Not when things are finally back where they should be after years of grief. Maybe something has been knocked loose in his brain, keeps him on this brink he can’t seem to sway to either side of. He’s not happy, but he’s not completely sad either. There’s no logic to it, no reason. No closure. Is this how ghosts feel? Like they’re straddling the in-between, stuck feeling like everything they have is just slightly out of reach? “Why the long face, kiddo?”

Tim is up in an instant, fumbling to pull his cowl back over his face. He raises his bo staff at the prowler, only to find Harley standing at the other end of the platform, her arms packed with reusable grocery bags. She’s wearing civilian clothes: a Nightwing tank top and leather pants that look like she doused them in glue and rolled around in a kiddie pool filled with glitter. Tim relaxes. He lowers his staff. “You shouldn’t do that. I could have knocked your head off.” “Nah, I’m too good to be taken down by a twelve-year-old.” “I’m eighteen.” “You sure? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were still in middle school.” “Hilarious.” “Thanks, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing some comedy on the side to pay the bills. Eddie says I’ve got a real knack for it.” Harley sits on the edge of the platform beside the spot where Tim was before. “I asked you a question, by the way.” “Bruce is going to kill me if he finds out I’m hanging out with you.” Fine, so that’s a minor exaggeration. Bruce will always have beef with Harley regardless of how many good deeds she does. Dick’s theory is that Bruce has some lingering bitterness from his and Harley’s rivalry from med school, and he probably isn’t too far off. The rest of the family is far looser when it comes to trusting Harley; Alfred even sent her a Hanukkah gift last year. “You and I both know Brucie is in Metropolis this week.” At Tim’s inquiring look, she explains, “My mom is friends with him on Facebook. So, are you gonna spill or what? ‘Cause I’ve got ice cream here and I swear to god I’ll fill your nostrils with tapioca if it melts.” Tim rolls his eyes. He lets his cowl fall back against his neck and sits beside Harley. “I’m fine.” “And that’s why you’re hanging out here all angsty-like?” “I’m not angsty.” “You’re the angstiest person on this fuckin’ billboard.” Which, fine, that’s probably true. “I don’t need a PHD to tell that something’s eating ya, kid. Which I do, by the way. Got the certificate and everything.” Tim gestures to her grocery bags. “I thought you had somewhere to be.” “What, these ol’ things? Nah. I just have a date with Pam-a-lamb tonight and had to borrow some supplies.” “Borrow?” “The manager there was a dick, anyways. He’s the one who got all snappy when I ate all the free samples, so trust me. He deserved to get his stuff stolen.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” “I’ll go back and return the thirty-seven scratch-offs I took if you tell me what’s bothering you.” Tim looks out over the black horizon, the moon barely visible behind the clouds. “It’s nothing.” “Everything is something. Gandhi said that.” “Pretty sure he didn’t.” “What, did you personally know the guy?” She nudges Tim with her elbow. “Well? Spit it out, Timberlake.” Tim lets out a breath. “It’s just...you know when you lose something really important to you? And you miss it, but after a while, when you’ve already accepted that you’ll never see it again, you find it? And you’re happy to have it back, but there’s still...something is missing. Almost like you never found it at all, you know?” “Not really, no.” Tim’s mouth twitches upward. “I’ve spent the past two years in mourning, but now I don’t have to mourn anymore. Everything is perfect again.” Harley arches an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you don’t know why you still feel like you’re grieving?” Tim nods. “Small fry, that’s not a symptom. That’s normal for someone in your situation.” “No, it isn’t. I should be happy right now. I should—I should be the happiest I’ve ever been. I spent so long trying to make everything right again, and I did it. Conner is back. Bart is back. Bruce is back. Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.” “Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing. “Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.” “Well, of course it doesn’t.” Tim looks at her, surprised. Harley’s eyes are serious for once, void of humor. “Having all your folks back doesn’t erase the fact that they were gone. Grief is what makes us human. Still feelin’ bad after everything is fixed just means you’re still working on it.” “That’s it?” Harley’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s it?” “I thought you were going to...I don’t know, crack open some huge revelation and make me realize it’s all in my head or something.” “I mean, it kind of is in your head.” Harley tugs on one pink pigtail. “Grief doesn’t come from your feet, Timantha.” “So...how do I fix it?” Harley shrugs, sitting back and swinging her legs in the air. “Fuck if I know. Go see a therapist or something?” Tim snorts. “I’d rather not.” “What, you got a prior engagement? Too busy for psychoanalysis?” “I can’t exactly go to a normal therapist and explain to them that all of my friends are superheroes and my dad is Batman.” “Hm. Point taken, bird boy.” Harley goes to boop his nose, but Tim swats her away. “Talk to me then. I’m a dandy good listener.” “Thanks, but I’m good.” “I’m serious. Got the license to practice and everything.” “I’m pretty sure psychology licenses expire once you’re imprisoned for terrorism.” “Well, jeez, go and insult me, why don’tcha? And after I offer my help like the good citizen I am.” She stands, picking up her shopping bag. Then she digs around in her pockets and comes out with a small white card. She hands it to Tim. Harley Quinn — hit(wo)man, psychiatrist, bounty hunter, dog walker, mercenary, finder of lost things, life coach. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she says with a wink. “I’m also considering goin’ into doggie makeovers.” “I don’t know,” Tim says. “I won’t go blabbing your information to Croc or no one, cross my heart. I strictly abide by the doctor/patient confidentiality rules.” A pause. “Most of the time.” Then she looks back at the billboard of Lex, looking for the world like a vengeful Mr. Clean god. “I’m sure he won’t tattle.” “I don’t think the Justice League would think very highly of one of their own getting therapy from an ex-supervillain.” “So? Fuck them, they’re a bunch of crusty old people anyway. Come on, think about it, Timberly. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount so long as you bring doughnuts when you visit. Teen angst makes me hungry.” Tim considers it for a moment, then sighs. “I’m free on Thursday afternoons.” Harley grins. “It’s a date, bird boy.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.19 #grief #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #batman #batfamily #batfam #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

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domesticblisss · 4 years ago

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By My Side | Pt.02

Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Baby’) Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2257 Warnings: Smut, angst and fluff. PiV, oral (female receiving) rough sex, relationship discussions, alcohol mention and language. Inspired by INXS’ song, By My Side. Pt.01

“Welcome to NXT, Thatcher.”

Timothy turns around and stops for a second, staring at her. Baby looks him in the eyes, not blinking once. Silence is shared between them for what feels like an eternity. Tim hugs her as tight as he can, knocking the wind out of her, but Baby doesn’t reciprocate, her arms limp by her side as Tim holds her.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Tim breaths on her hair.

“Fucking liar.” she whispers back to him.

Tim releases the hold he had on her, but still keeps her close by keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Can we talk? I feel like we need to talk. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, I understand that you hate me, you have all the right to. But can we please talk? I’m staying at Junior’s, if you want to...”

“Fine. I’ll be there at 7.” and she leaves before hearing his answer.

Dakota and Rhea find her a few minutes later on the locker room, crying.

“Baby, what happened? You were talking to Thatcher and vanished from the gym. Did he do anything to you?” Kai says as she wipes her friends face clean.

“Do you want me to beat him up? You know I’d anything for you...” Rhea offers her.

“God, Rhea. No! But thank you. I don’t think I ever told you guys about this part of my time in Germany, yeah?” she tells them everything. About how they met, them touring together, all the happy moments and their downfall.

“We never fought, not once. Whenever something the other did bothered us we would just sit and talk. He always told me how great I was, how I was one of the best professionals he had ever seen. We talked about our dreams. I still can’t understand why he didn’t believe I couldn’t get here.” her voice breaks at the end and Baby starts crying again. Rhea hugs her, dries her cheeks once again, while saying “First of all, you need to stop crying, he doesn’t deserve it. Second, you guys really need to talk.”

“You do, babes.” Kota intervenes, “You guys need to have some closure to it. You left without even officially ending your relationship.”

“I know. He asked me to meet him tonight. I agreed to it. I don’t know why I got so shaken up after seeing him. I thought I had gotten over it, you know?” Baby sighs.

“Look, it’s normal. Just go, talk to him. If anything, call us and we break his nose again for you, yeah? Ripley offers.

“Okay, I love you guys.”

The day goes by way too quickly and when she realises, it’s almost 7. Sometimes, it’s a good thing that her and Junior live on the same Condo, being so close to each other really makes things easier when they want to do something together. Right now she is regretting that nearness. She wishes she had some little time to give herself a little pep talk before seeing Tim again.

She arrives just as Marcel leaves his apartment with Fabian. Both of them hug her and tell her to call if she needs anything as Tim waits by the door.

“Hello again, Timothy” she says, entering the apartment.

“Timothy. Wow.”

“Can’t call you chocolate eyes like I used to, can I?”

“Well, technically you can, my eyes hadn’t — “

“No technicalities here, Timothy. Let’s get this over with, please.”

“Right, I’m sorry. Please sit.” he begins. “Do you want something? Water? Beer? Also, I ordered take out from that Lebanese place Junior said you like so much.”

“Tim...” she sighs, exhausted. “I’m not hungry or thirsty. Can we please get over with it?” Noticing how harsh she was and the sad look on his face, she continues “Fuck, I’m sorry. I appreciate your efforts but I really can’t do this. Not right now, I can’t pretend everything is fine and dandy and eat and drink like nothing happened.”

“No you’re right. I just... I really need to apologise to you. I was so frustrated that everyone I knew was getting what they wanted and I kept stuck in one place. It felt like I was getting on a dead end road. I panicked when I noticed you were leaving, I felt like I was losing the one good constant thing in my life, the most important thing in my life. And I fucking did because of how much of a prick I was to you. I am so, so sorry for that. I won’t ask you for your forgiveness, it would be nice, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

“We could’ve worked out the whole ‘long distance’ thing you know... anyway Tim, you fucking broke me. I don’t think I ever loved anything, anyone more in my life than I loved you. I thought we were going to be together forever, you know? I couldn’t imagine my life without you... and you just insulted me, insulted the only thing I was proud of, the only thing I’ve ever felt I was good at when my dream was becoming a reality. The truth is I’ve already forgiven you. I did it as soon as I calmed myself down because I knew how much in distress you were. But you’ve broken me and I don’t feel like things can come back to how they were. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can in the PC, I would appreciate if you did the same. I really don’t think we have anything else to say to each other, so goodbye.” She kisses his cheek and leaves before he can say anything else.

It has been months since they talked and Baby was able to stay away from Tim. She made sure to workout whenever he wasn’t at the Performance Centre. Whenever they had classes together, they would stand on the opposite sides of the room, far from each other. She never looked at him, but could feel his eyes staring at her. She was also very thankful to whatever high power that exists that they never got paired together. She had finally moved on.

Whenever she wanted to see Marcel or Fabian, they would either go to her place or the three of them would meet at a bar. For some reason, today’s bar date felt like a deja vu. They were on a booth, her with her back to the bar’s entrance, nursing a beer while Junior and Fabian took shots. The boys were in front of her, laughing when she felt her anxiety creep in. A few moments later, a presence is felt and Tim stands there, in all his 6ft3 glory.

“Good evening, guys.” Tim says to everyone, but his eyes never leave hers. Baby answers him back, while scooting a little far into the booth so Tim can sit by her side.

They never directly talk to each, their interactions only happening when Marcel and Fabian say something that requires an answer from the both of them.

She can feel Tim is nervous, his leg bouncing like crazy by her side, the fabric of his shorts rubbing on the skin her skirt didn’t cover. Baby has lost count on how many times she has held herself back from putting her hands on his knee to rub her thumb on it, like she always did when he was nervous.

The night went on like this. Soon enough, Junior and Fabian were shit faced, making Tim and Baby take them home together.

They arrive at the boys place, the both of them taking their designated drunk to their respective room and meeting back again on the living room. Tim speaks first before she tries to leave.

“Does this feels like deja vu to you too?

“God it does! Except it was Mack instead of Fabian last time.” she laughs softly back at him.

“I guess the next thing should be me raiding his fridge for a beer, right?” he asks reluctantly, afraid of her answer.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you on the balcony.”

Tim is back a few moments later, “I don’t know where Junior finds all this european stuff.”

“Oh, there’s a store nearby that sells foods and drinks from around the world. The day we first went there he was so excited I thought he was gonna pass out.”

“That does sounds like him. Look, I didn’t know you would be at the bar tonight, if I did, I wouldn’t have gone, as much as I want to see you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it was Axel’s fault. But yeah, I wanted to see you too.” She tells him, a bit ashamed and they both smile at each other. They share a few moments of silence together, just appreciating their beers and the light breeze they were getting tonight.

She’s moves around on the balcony to stand somewhat in front of him, and is the one to break the silence. “The PC is doing great things to you. Your ‘Thatch-as-Thatch Can’ segments are incredible. You’re better at talking, more confident, it really suits you.”

“Thanks. I saw you’re doing moonsaults now. I remember you always wanting to do it but afraid of. They look great. Everything you do is impeccable. I always knew you would be able to.”

They stare at each other in silence for what feels like ages, the breeze picks up again, making her hair fall to her face. Tim brushes the hair out of her face, glides his thumb across her right cheek and then her lips. On impulse, Baby grabs his t-shirt and crashes their lips together. When Tim feels her letting go, he holds her close, trapping her in his arms and deepening the kiss.

It’s a raw, desperate kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. She moans when he lets go of her lips, leaving a wet trail of rough kisses from her face to the sweet spot on her neck, giving little bites to the space behind her ears.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, Timmo.” She says, rubbing her core on his hardening length.

“Me too, doll. C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom”.

They are attached to each other, stumbling on furniture, knocking down the living room lamp. When they get to Tim’s bedroom, they don’t bother on wasting time to take their clothes off. Tim pulls his shorts down and snakes Baby’s legs around his waist, lifts her skirt up enough to easily shove her lacy panties aside and fuck her against the wall.

It’s angry and rough, the result of one year worth of pent up rage and regret. They don’t care about the noises they’re making, fuck the neighbours, fuck Marcel, fuck Fabian, they are in their own little world now. Tim pulls the straps of her bra down, enough to attach his lips to her left nipple.

“Tim, babe, please don’t stop, I’m almost there. FUCK!”

He goes in harder, rougher and in no time she comes, flooding their clothes with her juices. Tim only stops when he feels her spasming against him, letting her gain some strength back. They move to his bed, taking the rest of their clothes off and Tim on her again, kissing her heat, sucking on her clit while he fingers her, mercilessly. It’s not long before she comes again, stronger than before, while gripping her hand on his hair, tears involuntarily streaming down her face.

He comes up to her lips, lays his body on top her and kisses her sweetly. “I’m sorry, doll. Was I too rough on you?” She lazily nods her head, silly smile on her face, still speechless.

Meanwhile, she strokes his still hard cock, lining it on her entrance, Tim asks if she still can take it, she only nods and lets out a soft “Mhmm”.

This time, Tim is gentle, rocking his body in an almost teasing motion, all while kissing her, telling her how much he missed her. They come together a few moments later.

Tim tumbles to his side of the bed, bringing Baby to lay her head on his chest, both of them coming out of their highs, just cherishing this moment together.

“I love you.” Baby finally breaks the silence. “I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stubborn idiot.”

“Doll, you have all the right to be stubborn, I was a prick to you. And yes, I love you too. I love you more than anything, you still are the most important thing in my life.”

“So… do you want to try this again?” Baby offers.

“More than anything.”

Baby wakes up around 07am, their limbs tangled together. She tries to get up without waking Tim up, failing. He holds her hand and asks where she’s going, “Breakfast”, she answers sleepily.

“Your famous eggs and bacon?”

“If Marcel has any on his fridge, yeah.”

“Yes!!!” she laughs at his attitude and goes to the kitchen.

A few moments later Marcel appears in the kitchen, stops in his tracks and asks “What are you doing here? Did you fuck Fabian???”

“She didn’t fuck Fabian, dipshit.” Tim says as he walks past the german, who has a confused look on his face. He eyes Tim’s back, all red from the scratches she left behind last night, and it comes to him.

“What do y – oh my god, yes! FINALLY!”

#timothy thatcher x reader #timothy thatcher imagine #wrestling imagines #DB Writes

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmate Shenanigans Part Two (Electric Boogaloo)

Good morning (or at least, I’ve started writing this in the morning! Who knows when I’ll complete it)!

I’m continuing my Soulmate AU Tomfoolery (you can find part one here)

Prompt #2

There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.

Warnings for death mentions, and temporary major character death

World Building

Everyone blames the mad scientist.

Which is fair. When someone makes billions of clocks in about a weeks time, each declaring when everyone in the world (including people who wouldn’t be born for decades) would find their soulmate, it’s considered to polite to stick around to answer questions

Instead, Logan disappeared to who-knows-where and left everyone else to pick up the pieces.

Rude.

Ever since the early 1910′s, the clocks have existed, one for each person. When any kid is born, the first thing a new parent does is rush to the register to see when they’ll meet their soulmate. It’s a big deal.

If your child isn’t going to meet their soulmate in the next 13 years, they are told the exact number on their 13th birthday

Philosophers have been enraged by all of this. Is free will a thing? Is existence a lie?

Non-philosophers will often close their curtains when they see a wandering philosopher, which are easy to identify by their look of abject confusion and plucked chickens.

Characters

Remus: Remus pretended that he didn’t care about who his soulmate was when his 13th birthday rolled along. He wasn’t the best actor.

His brother seemed happy when he found out that it would be sixteen years until he found his soulmate. 29 wasn’t a bad age at all, considering that some people would have to wait until they were old and in a nursing home, or would never even meet their soulmate at all.

Remus waited for his parents to tell him. They gave each other nervous looks, and he was convinced for a few seconds that he didn’t have a soulmate after all.

The actual answer was much weirder

526 years. 526 years until he met his soulmate.

Remus said a silent thank you to his soulmate for making him functionally immortal. After all, that meant that he’d survive until then!

HE WAS IMMORTAL

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Now, whenever someone would try to say something like, “Why do you like serial killers? Planning to become one?”, he could just look them dead in the eye and say,

I’m going to outlive you, Brian

(On an unrelated note, Brian disappeared a few months later. It actually wasn’t Remus’s fault, surprisingly. One minute, he was at a museum, the next, gone)

Remus would be fine with never finding his soulmate, honestly. Connection is nice, but being eldritch is more fun.

Virgil: Virgil didn’t want to be immortal

Sure, he wasn’t a fan of dying in practice, but in theory he didn’t want to live to over 250!

His family and friends were going to die, and he’d have to live through it. And for what? To meet a soulmate? Who gave a fuck? Virgil had never wanted a romantic relationship in his life, and he didn’t think that a 526 year wait was going to change that.

He was determined to find his soulmate early so that he could live a normal life like a normal person who doesn’t cause additional distress to the wandering philosophers.

Plot

It was easy to find Remus. Local Child Will Live To Over 500 makes a good headline, and Remus wasn’t one to shy away from attention.

When Virgil was 16, he packed his bags and ran away from home to go meet his soulmate. He didn’t ask Janus how he got the bus tickets, but he did ask him to tell his parents that he’d be okay.

Virgil knocked on the door, and waited. Someone who looked almost exactly like the news site photo answered. The conversation went something like this:

Virgil: So, YOU’RE Remus McFricking Sanders-

Roman: Nope, not him, whatever he said isn’t my fault.

[Roman slams door]

Virgil was pretty sure that he had, in fact, met Remus, and he was just being annoying. Roman believed that his brother had just manage to piss off yet another person.

Virgil retreated to a restaurant, and looked up the photo on the news article, just to make sure. No denying it, that was him! Same eyes, same hair, same general face-wait.

Remus had a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. The guy who’d greeted him at the door had definitely been in less scrapes than his soulmate.

Whoops.

Meanwhile, Remus had a plan to avoid Virgil at all cost. Virgil had tried to shy away from press attention, but he tracked down a photo eventually.

And when his brother told him that some emo with “awesome” eyes had turned up on the doorstep looking for him, he had a bad feeling.

Well, spooky boy wasn’t going to cost him his long future.

And so the dance began.

In one corner, Virgil, who had spite, stubbornness, and a deadline on his side (he had to get home to his parents eventually)! Never discount a spiteful Virgil!

In the other corner, Remus, who has nothing on his side but fate. Fate, however, has a sense of humor, and Remus read enough old myths as a child to know that whatever happens can’t be changed by petty human actions.

Virgil tries breaking and entering many times, each failing in a more ridiculous way. He is a careful, but Remus is practically Kevin McCallister in terms of traps, and he fails to meet his soulmate face to face all day and all night.

They do get to have some verbal exchanges, which are pretty much

Virgil: You think you want the existential hell of immortality??

Remus: Oh, fuck off, I’m going to have the best vampire aesthetic!

Virgil: The vampire aesthetic is wonderful, but can we do everything for aesthetic?

Both at the same time: Yes. Yes we can.

And then Virgil is herded out of the house by Remus’s pet rats.

However, the final encounter goes a little differently. No witty quips, just Virgil picking the lock of yet another window, and then a very specific sound.

Have you ever heard a stubborn emo get pulled into a portal in the spacetime continuum?

It’s a distinct sound that is along the lines of loud crash-The fu-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

Remus didn’t give a second thought before diving into the portal after him. If he had, he would have thought hey, this’ll probably bring us face to face, something I’ve been avoiding or maybe jumping into random portals in a stupid idea or I’m going to grab a weapon before just running at it. But his first impulse was to make sure his snarky soulmate hadn’t died, so into the portal he went.

The Year: 2550

The Portal: Glows a lot, thank you for asking

The Reason: A mad scientist has only one thing left to lose, and is terrified as it slips away

Logan: Logan was a geek at heart. He loved science, in both theories and practice. He probably should have toned down his obsession with Nikola Tesla. He wanted to travel to the sky, and touch the stars, and watch time like a film reel.

Time travel was his passion. If people could travel across the physical seas, why not the metaphorical ones of time?

It was pure luck that he actually figured it out, but figure it out he did. Logan loved his creation.

He wanted to create a million inventions, but more importantly he wanted Patton to see them all.

If there was one thing he loved more than science, it was him.

The two kept each other from drifting off into the stars, or sinking into the dirt because they’re too afraid of being rude. One of Logan’s favorite memories was he and Patton running through the St. Louis fair, giggling at terrible puns and sharing a quick kiss out of sight, before catching the next exposition.

Patton was kind, and caring, and knew how to talk to people to get them to like him, and was just good. He was good.

Logan dealt only in facts. And it was a fact that it would have been better, more fair for Logan to have died in the fire.

It was a fact that he didn’t (even though it felt like it sometimes). It was a fact that Patton had been the one to notice the smoke. It was a fact that the love of his life waited for a few seconds in the doorway, trying to call the cat out. It was a fact that, after Logan was out of the house, he turned around to see the doorway collapse.

He found a way back into the house, but it took too long.

Fact: Humans can only endure severe smoke inhalation for a few minutes before dying.

Logan took one look at his time machine, somehow still undamaged. He’d never tested it before, but he really didn’t have a choice, so he kissed Patton on the forehead and stepped into a portal.

Back To The Plot

Virgil and Remus immediately knew that they were in the 26th century.

How? There was a sign!

Hey! If You Happen To Be A Time Traveler, This Is 2550! Check In With The Lord Cerebrum To Know More, Unless You Don’t Have A License, In Which Case

You Know What Happens

They don’t have much time to mull over this before Remus tries to murder Virgil. He’s not IMMORTAL any more, and it’s not FAIR, and it’s all HIS fault!

This is where we enter the Rivals To Friends (While On The Run From Time Management) section

Remus and Virgil have many adventures escaping from Time Management, while learning to appreciate the other as a friend. They are platonic soulmates, after all!

But Time Management is nothing if not patient, and the boys are caught eventually (you know how it goes. You forget to check around for listening ears, you use 21st century slang, and suddenly a single “yeet” and a “same” get you dragged before the Lord Cerebrum)

A Handy Dandy Guide To The Year 2550 (transcript from the Handy Dandy Infomercial Station)

Hey, time travelers! I know that everyone likes zipping around the time-stream and seeing what the fates throw at them to keep them from murdering their grandpa, but we have to do this by the Rules!

If you break the rules, you know what happens

The Year 2550 is protected by Logos Industries’s time dilation filter, to ensure that no one gets the wrong idea about going free range!

If you have a license, just proceed to the Lord Cerebrum to get your stamp of approval and philosopher disguise for the maximum positive effect! After all, Logos Industries needs funding to protect us all!

If you don’t have a license, you’ll see the Lord Cerebrum too!

Have a Handy Dandy Time :)

Back To The Plot

The boys are led through a menacing government facility, taken to see the Lord Cerebrum. They try to ask questions, but Time Management is rather disinterested in their fleeting existence, so nothing much gets answered.

The final destination is a computer room, where the Lord Cerebrum sits. His form was half hologram, half skin, his age unchanging for 526 years, and recognizable at first sight to Remus

Lord Cerebrum, aka Brain, aka Brian: Hey, Remus, what exactly did you say about outliving me?

Brian: Brian was a dick. There’s no other way to put it.

He and Remus used to be friends, sticking brand new phones in water to see what would happen and planning out pranks (they made their history teacher think that she was being haunted by the ghost of Charlemagne!), but things changed, and by 8th grade his dickishness was on full display

It was really easy to get away with being cruel to Remus. He naturally unnerved people, and anyone in a position of power immediately knew he was trouble (which was true), so when there was a conflicting story between a star student and the kid who poured ketchup in the principal’s desk, you can guess who’d always get believed.

Brian was a dick, but he was 13. He could have grown later in life, regretted his ways (or at least stopped), but instead he touched an antique time machine on a museum tour of the Clock House (home of Logan, the famous inventor of soulmate clocks).

He’d been planning to snap off the handle and pin it on Remus (or maybe Roman for variety), but instead

Crash-what the-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

And Brian arrived in the year 2520, the first of many time travellers.

He became a celebrity. The parts of him lost in the wormhole were quickly replaced with state-of-the-art holograms, and his fame went to his head.

Thirty years of good marketing later, he was the Lord Cerebrum. And when a desperate mad scientist came crashing through a portal of his own, it was easy to get him to work for him under the promise that Brian would let him save his “Patton” once he made some technology for him.

He recognized Logan from the museum. He knew who’s fault it was that he was trapped travelling through time, whirling through the portal, praying and promising and in the end just screaming. Brian knew who was to blame for the fact that he couldn’t tell how much of his body would stay when the power went out.

So the tasks got longer and more complicated, Patton dangled like a carrot over Logan’s head.

Fact: Logan would never win, and someday Brian would get tired of this game and there would only be one genius left in 2550.

Back To The Plot: Virgil punched the Lord Cerebrum in the face. He didn’t know all of the context, but his best friend seemed not to like the guy, and he seemed evil, so he punched the overlord in the face.

Brian was offended, and abandoned all plans for a monologue in favor of leaving them to die.

The most fitting way to do away with a time traveler is to send them everywhere at once. It’s an awful death, one where molecules are slowly lost as the traveler in question hits walls and trees and memories.

The duo managed to survive five or so timelines, before the machine miraculously shut off. A mad scientist ran into the room, unscrewed the vents in the walls, and told the teenagers that they’re late.

Things are explained as they escape the facility.

Things

Logan needed a way to break the time dilation filter. He did the math (which he tried and failed to explain to the boys), and it was determined that Remus and Virgil had the most butterfly effect capabilities to influence this particular event

Basically, removing them from the timeline changed things just enough for Logan to find the chink in the filter’s armor.

The duo’s job is done, and Logan is only sorry that he didn’t find them earlier to get them home.

Back To The Plot

Everything seems like it’s going to be fine, and the duo are almost able to go home, when the Lord Cerebrum finds them.

CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN

An Ending

In the end, Brian is sent to the 22th century, the year where nearly all of humanity were turned into giant rats for some reason

Logan found his way back to the 1910′s, and used the 26th century technology to heal his love. The time machine burned in the fire. Good. Space travel was where it was at, anyway.

Virgil had so much explaining to do to his parents

Remus knew that no one would believe him. Roman did.

Virgil and Remus stayed the closest of friends. They dressed up as vampires for Halloween. They stuck together. They got to grow up.

More soulmate shenanigans, amiright?

#sanders sides #ts sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #logicality #platonic dukexiety #time travel #soulmate au #beware the drafts of march #soulmate shenanigans #unsympathetic brian #i don't know why this random shorts character is awful in my mind #i'm sure he's a perfectly nice fictional character #i love writing #fan fic #sanders side fic #sanders sides fic

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getthesamovarready · 4 years ago

Text

And we're not speaking

Owen×Michelle

Post 2.08

@911couplesretreat day 5: "don't give me that look"+ angst

I haven't even proofed this I'm sorry

For some reason, he didn't expect to see her here. Not once had the possibility of running into her crossed his mind. But she's right there in front of him, sitting awkwardly beside Judd's bed, staring at him intently. Judd is explaining to her what happened, assuring her that they are both going to be fine. "We ain't going anywhere Michelle, we're gonna be just fine."

"You drove off of a bridge Judd." She mumbles wetly.

"If I promise not to do it again will you stop being mad at me?" As if being mad is her problem. "Michelle…" He sighs, smiling at her. "We ain't going anywhere, I promise."

"I don't have a lot of people Ryder, if you go somewhere I'm following you." And her joke doesn't even get to be funny, because her voice cracks at the end of it, and it just sounds dark, and wrong. Michelle may be a lot of things, but she isn't dark.

"You got a lot of people, Michelle. You just gotta let them care about you." Speaking of people, Owen knocks lightly on the door.

And Michelle's back tenses immediately, her head whipping towards him. "Hey." He greets them both. "Can I come in?"

Michelle nods stiffly, jaw set. "Yeah." She shrugs. "I was leaving anyway." She stands from her chair, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I'll go check on your wife."

She doesn't look at Owen while she practically runs out of the room. "Is she okay?"

"She's just fine and dandy, Cap." Judd rolls his eyes. Because women that are okay are so very prone to fleeing rooms unprompted.

"What's wrong with her?" Obviously something is.

"You made her leave." Judd points out, as if Owen is an absolute imbecile for not realising it. And Owen's confused silence is frustrating the hell out of him. He's in too much pain to deal with this tension right now. "You showed up, it's weird, so she left, I don't see how you don't get that."

"Weird?" It is a little weird, but not run out of the room weird. It's awkward hello followed by a nice catch up kind of weirdness.

"Weird, painful, awkward, whatever you wanna call it."

"Painful?" What could be so painful about running into him? Other than the hospital, but that obviously wasn't the problem.

"She thought y'all were like...friends, or whatever." He quirks his eyebrows slightly. He still doesn't fully understand why Michelle wanted the 'whatever', but she did.

"We are friends." Aren't they?

"Cap, you haven't spoken to her in months. You haven't even called her once since she left the house. You ain't friends." He had kinda been busy, he'd had so much stuff to deal with he hadn't even thought to talk to her. "And it ain't just you, none of y'all have."

Surely….surely somebody had spoken to her in the past few months? "I didn't…"

"Sure you didn't, none of you even thought about it. She wasn't part of your team." That feels a little harsh, but then again, maybe not untrue. "But she's my family, we practically grew up together at the 126, so I can't blame you for not caring as much as I do." Although he does resent them a little bit for how much it hurt her. "And she had a crush on you, so you hurt her a little more than the rest of them."

"She what?" If he had known that…

"Don't tell me you didn't know, you're a dumbass Cap, but you ain't stupid." All the signs had been there. But Judd had always been able to read Michelle like a book. A complicated book, but still. He had learned her language in their twenties. And she hadn't been talking in riddles with Owen, she had been blatantly obvious about everything, not realising that he really does need everything about women spelled out for him. "But then again, maybe you are."

She does the same thing when he goes to check on TK, walking in on her with her arm wrapped around Carlos, the three of them chuckling between them. The laughter dies immediately when he walks into the room. "Dad...hey." TK greets awkwardly, his eyes flicking to a suddenly tense Michelle and Carlos.

"Hey." He lingers in the doorway, deciding against asking them to let him in. Trying not to impose.

"Uh...you should come in, sit down." Carlos offers while Michelle starts to stand. "We should go say hi to Grace anyway." He had thought Michelle had already done that, but he is hardly going to argue with them.

"No, I'll go, it's fine, I'll come back later." He starts to turn, but Michelle stops him with a heavy huff.

"I'm leaving anyway." She pushes past him, trying her damndest not to come into actual contact.

Carlos doesn't follow her immediately, having some kind of silent conversation with TK, who pointedly tells him to go after her.

"She's just going to keep doing that, isn't she?" Owen grumbles.

"What do you expect? You haven't spoken to her in months. She thinks that's what you want her to do." He thought he was pissed at him recently about Gwyn. But that's nothing compared to this. He's obviously been bottling this one up for a while.

"Why would I want her to do that?"

"Because you don't like her?" He does though, he likes her a lot. It isn't his fault that she left. "She doesn't want to hang around when you're just tolerating her, she's too proud." And too damn stubborn. "I shouldn't be telling you any of this, she trusts me too much, and Carlos would kill me if he found out. I can handle you two separately, but this? This is awkward, and she is Carlos's best friend, she can't avoid you forever. So I'm telling you. She's been pretty torn up, realising how little you care about her. But I know you do, so you need to talk to her. Now."

It's said with such authority that Owen has no choice but to turn on his heels, lingering is not an option.

She's sitting in the hallway outside Grace's room when he finds her. "Michelle…" he lingers a few steps away from her, waiting for her to let him approach. She sighs, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"What?" She snaps, dropping her head to her hands.

"Are you okay?" It's all he can think of saying without jumping straight into an unwanted apology.

"My family, some of the only ones not dead, are in hospital. My best friend's boyfriend nearly got killed. Again. I'm doing just fucking great." She spits at him. "And worst of all you keep fucking following me!" He hadn't meant to do it the first few times.

"You're mad at me." He decides to plop into the seat next to her, sighing when she shuffles away from him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that." She huffs. "Don't even think about it."

"Michelle, I've just been...I don't know, a lot happened."

"Yeah, I know. Carlos told me." Because they are actually friends. "Carlos was the only one who told me. Anything." And he should have really thought to tell her about Tim himself. He shouldn't have assumed someone else would. It wasn't their job.

"I'm sorry. I just...you left, and-"

"I left the station, not the country, Owen. You knew exactly where to find me." She starts to fiddle with her fingers, picking at her fingernails.

"Yeah… I just...didn't know how to talk to you after you left." Whatever they had didn't feel like it could stay the same if they didn't work together. It felt like maybe a little too much. "I wanted to, I just… didn't know how." And maybe it did feel a little weird, a little wrong, to call her when Gwyn was around all the time, but he doesn't want to think about that.

"If you had, you would have. It's not that difficult to pick up a phone Owen. It takes two seconds to send a text. So don't pretend that you wanted to because now it's awkward, it's not fair. You'll get over the awkward."

"You didn't call me either, you didn't text. It wasn't just me."

"You know why I didn't want to call you at the start." How could he not, it was written all over her face when she told him she was leaving. He doesn't really want to admit it, but he has known this whole time. But it all seemed so scary, and Gwyn was there, and familiar. And similar enough to Michelle for him to let it happen.

"If I know why you didn't call, then you know why I didn't call." They're the same damn reason, even if he was kind of passing her over for his ex-wife.

"Stop it." She shakes her head, bolting out of her chair. "Don't you dare do that. Don't give me that look, like you might actually want me. Don't talk to me like that. Don't try and...what even are you trying to do? You put your wife on a plane three hours ago. Don't try and pick me now just because she's gone. Don't fucking try to do that." Because there is every chance she would fall for it.

#michelle blake #michelle x owen #owelle #owen strand #911 lonestar #911 couples retreat

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gothamangelwings · 4 years ago

Text

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to say anything about this, but I have to, for my own sanity. Excuse me for my rambling (especially about Castiel) and repeating myself, which I probably will do in this post.

Truth is I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago. I just kept avoiding it over the years. I think when it was in it’s 7th or 8th season, I thought to myself “oh this should be ending soon. I’ll just wait til its over and watch it then” That did not happen. Jump to last year when I heard about the Scoobynatural episode. I love Scooby so I had to watch. And I loved it. And I really loved Sam and Dean. But I also couldn’t stop thinking about the guy in the trench coat with the deep voice named Castiel. Did very little research to find out he’s an angel. That’s all I wanted to know. Went to netflix and started watching the show from the beginning. By the time I got midway thru season 3 I was hooked. I started buying the dvds in bunches. Watching as much as a I could a week. When I got to season 4 I was Cass on the cover of the boxset and said “that’s him! That’s the angel! He’s in the season!” I actually didn’t know he would show up right in the beginning of the season but when Dean was at that gas station and gas started shattering I thought. That’s him isn’t it? That’s Castiel. Misha’s actual entrance on the show is the best in history. I do love Sam and Dean but I’m not going to lie and pretend like Castiel isn’t my favorite. Because he is. I adore that awkward angel. He is the reason I happily kept watching and brought all the dvds because I knew Misha was still working on the show. He is the reason I will buy season 15. I started shipping Destiel in season 5 but when I re-watched the series (Yes I watched it twice in less than a year. One over a period of several months the other over a few weeks before the show came back after hiatus.) I saw moments in season 4 that i missed the first time around.

So yes this finale makes me cry and not in a good way. although there are a few saving graces.

Let’s begin.

First let me start by saying I do not in any way blame the actors. Especially Jensen. He said he thought the ending was bad and had to be talked into it. Dean/Jensen deserved better. I blame the writers and producers and The CW

Second, repeat after me:

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Now speaking of Castiel, who I mostly want to talk about before addressing the rest of this mess. Castiel/Misha deserved better. There really is no reason Misha couldn’t be in the final episode unless there was something on his end. Although seeing that he recently went to California to shoot a something for Amazon and took West to the Winchester House. He can definitely travel. But if there was some reason on his end, then okay, fine then. However that doesn’t excuse the way the handled his character in these last two episodes.

Yes in 15x19 Dean demands Chuck bring Cass back. Dean remembers Cass’s words when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer. Yes, Dean runs to the door when he thinks Cass has just called him. Instead in was Lucifer. What a slap in the face to the fans and an insult to Misha after that beautiful confession of love.

But the end of the episode. Jack becomes God and no one says “What about Cass?”

Now 15x20. Sam brings up Castiel and Dean is just like “move on“. No, That is not Dean. No matter what Dean cared about Castiel, to the point that being without him in the past led him to depression. i understand he doesn’t want Castiel’s sacrifice to be in vein. But come on. There’s living on and being happy and then there’s acting like the guy didn’t matter. Again, no. That is not Dean. Not after all the development those two have had. I know Dean wasn’t always perfect when it came to Cass but he did care. What happened to “We lost everything. Now you’re going to bring him back” What happened to the purgatory apology and admitting his anger issues. And so much more.

Again Castiel is in heaven. Jack got him out of The Empty. But they could of made it more clear. ( I swear, if they are leaving this up to interpretation....) Because I see so many people who have “conveniently” missed what Bobby said and insist he’s still in The Empty. Or just want to say “well that’s not what he meant. Cas is still dead, he just meant his influence on Jack” or some shit like that.(Now that I think about maybe influence isn’t the right word to use with this fandom lol)

Anyway lets say that Misha could not in anyway be there for filming. YOU CAN STILL ADDRESS HIS CHARACTER PROPERLY AND GIVE HIM A SATISFYING ENDING. In fact you barely have to change the scene between Dean and Bobby just add a few more lines.

Dean: “So Jack did all that?”

Bobby: “Well Cass helped”

Dean: “Wait, Cass is here?!”

Bobby: ‘Yep, Kid got him out.”

Dean: “Well where is he? Can I see him?”

Bobby (smiling): “Now calm down ya idjit. He’ll be back soon. Had some business to take of. But he is planning to stick around here with the rest of us.’

Dean (smiling, happy because he’s getting a second chance): Good. He belongs with us. With me. (takes a drink) It’s just too bad...

Bobby (knowing he’s talking about Sam: “Don’t worry he’ll be here shortly...”

Scene plays out as normal but instead when Sam and Dean are reunited. Dean tells him “Let’s head back, Mom, Dad, Bobby, and Cass are waiting for us. Along with everyone else we loved and lost when we were alive.”

Or... a few scenarios with Castiel there (even for a few moments)

1. When Dean dies (yeah we’ll talk about that) Jack sends down Cass to take him to heaven. Dean leaves his body. Watches as Sam falls apart and then hears “Hello Dean” turns and there’s Cass to guide him to heaven and also let him know Sam will be okay and will live a happy life”

2. The scene with Bobby starts the way it did but instead after he says “Well Cass helped” he points behind Dean.

Cass: “Hello Dean.”

Dean: “Cas! Aw, it’s good to see you. You have no idea.”

They embrace. Maybe the say something about the confession maybe they don’t but at least they’re together and we know that they have time to talk.

Episode continues as it did but again Dean tells Sam that Castiel is here waiting for them.

3. Episode plays exactly as it did. Except at the very end after Sam and Dean reunite on the bridge...

Cass: “Hello Dean. Hello Sam”

Both: Cass!

The three hug. Dean a bit longer.

Dean: “Well look at that. Team Free Will back together again. This time forever.”

In any scenario Castiel is living in heaven with the boys. Him and Dean eventually talk about what happened. In my canon Dean returns his feelings but even if he can’t it’s okay because Dean does care about Cass. And Castiel’s happiness was just in being able to say it. Either way they’re together along with everyone else they love and will be waiting for those who haven’t arrived yet.

Also Cass finally gets his guinea pig. Because he deserves it.

ONCE AGAIN, EVEN IF MISHA COULDN’T BE THERE. THERE WERE STILL BETTER WAYS TO HANDLE THIS ENDING! OH AND THERE BETTER NOT BE SOME LAME ASS THING LIKE ‘HE’S IN HEAVEN WORKING WITH JACK BUT ISN’T ALLOWED HERE BECAUSE THE NEW GOD LIKES TO KEEP ANGELS SEPARATE FROM THE REST OF US’

NO. CASTIEL IS DEFINITELY WITH DEAN IN HEAVEN. END OF STORY.

Moving on the other problems which I won’t go into full detail in like I did Castiel.

Dean’s death. The ever loving fuck was that? A nail?! I get that they finally get to call the shots in there own lives now but come on! A nail. And this is what a few weeks after defeating Chuck. Who, if he wants to can have a happy life. You know when Cass heard about this he rolled his eyes. Like “Really?!”

Ewwww that forehead touch. I know for most people it’s just a sweet final moment between two siblings as one dies. But we all know this is fuel for the Winc*sters and b*bros. I mean come on now. You’re afraid to have Dean even acknowledge Castiel’s feelings but a forehead touch that can and will be taken out of context as romantic between two brothers is fine and dandy. I was watching this with my Mom and even she was like “That forehead touch,,, why.. just why...”

Funny thing about my Mom. (Sorry not sorry going back to talk about Cass for a moment) She has been watching SPN with me this year but honestly only (not even) half paid attention. She has a habit of always looking at her phone even when it’s something she wants to watch. Two weeks ago after 15X18 I asked “Do you believe Cass’s confession was romantic?”

Her response. “No, they’re just friends. Angels aren’t supposed to feel romantic love.’ We get into a small argument.

A few days later...

Me: “Misha confirmed it was romantic.”

Mom: “Oh, well that settles it then. I just was taught that angels didn’t feel that kind of love.”

Me: “Yeah but your forgetting a few things. 1. Cass isn’t like other angels and 2. This is a fictional tv show not the actual bible.

Mom laughs: “Good point, Guess I didn’t think about that.”

Me: “Y’know people are actually saying that Cass can’t be gay or bi because Dean isn’t.”

Mom: “That’s stupid. One has nothing to do with the other. Even if Dean doesn’t feel the same way that doesn’t change Castiel’s feelings.”

Jump to the last few days.

Mom: “Cass is going to show up in the finale. He and Dean will be reunited! Maybe he’s one of those people in the masks being controlled by The Empty. Or maybe there will be a scene in the barn where Dean is on the ground about to be stabbed and Cass saves him in the knick of time!”

Mom after the finale: “That was terrible. Very disappointed. They really couldn’t get Misha for few minutes. They better not use covid as an excuse with all those people on that bridge. Everything about this episode felt wrong” (she said that about 15x19 too). (Grabs her phone to look at twitter) “Misha is crying. This episode doesn’t deserve pie.”

We brought pie. We did not eat it.

Moving on.. .yeah yeah the wig on Jared was awful. But who cares. What I want to know is who is the mother? Is it Eileen? I hope it’s Eileen. It better be Eileen.

The barn. Why? Why that barn? Did they really think no one would notice. I get reusing sets and locations as completely different places. But that just hurt.

Did we need so many songs with no dialogue being spoken. I mean yes Carry On was a must have but so much time could’ve been spent talking about other characters during the other songs .

And again why are they trying to make Dean look bad. It’s not his/Jensen’s fault it’s the horrible writing of these final two episodes. Why did they not take to opportunity to talk about Castiel’s confession. Yes I’m back on Cas again. I warned you. Also he’s probably the main reason you’re reading this anyway, so yeah...

I would like to believe a conversation happened off screen but the way Sam and Dean acted it doesn’t seem like it.

Again would it be so hard. Two scenarios

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?”

Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean (hesitates): “ I think... no, I know I love him too. He’s the only man I’ll ever love.”

Sam: “Well you know technically Cass really isn’t male... so...

Dean: “Oh please Sammy. Could you imagine Cass in any other body? Especially a chicks. It would be so weird.”

Sam: “Good point.”

Dean: “Besides, he was perfect the way he was.”

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?

”Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean: “I can’t return his feelings. I see him as a man and you know I’m attracted to women.”

Sam: “Alright then.”

Dean. “But y’know...”

Sam: “Hmmm?”

Dean: “I still miss him. I wish he was here with us.”

There were so many easy ways to fix this and they did nothing. Did they not think 15x18 would have a huge impact. I really hope the writers are kicking themselves for this. Funny, by ignoring Castiel and his feelings they actually brought more attention and love to him and Misha.

I really don’t know if a rewrite and reshoot for the dvd release is possible. Has that ever been done, I feel like it has but I’m not sure. But if it is. Fix it. It only took a few weeks to film these last two episodes. I’m sure all the actors can come back to film for a few weeks. Once there are less Covid restrictions of courses. I know there’s been talk about a possible movie. That could fix it. As long as they bring back the angel in the trench coat. Or how about a bonus episode for the dvd 15x21 where everyone is gathered in heaven. Sam, Dean, Cass, Bobby, Mary, John, Kevin, Charlie, Eileen, Jo, Ellen, Pam. Even Crowley and Rowena because why not. Oooh and Meg too because she did sacrifice herself for them and also I just love her. Anyway they all gather and talk about old times. Perfect excuse for an old fashion clip show. Funny/heartwarming banter in between. Make Destiel canon at the end. Another possible way to fix it is do a comic book season or even just a few issues to flesh out the ending in heaven. Just fix it.

At least we have fanfiction.

If there are any positives to take away it’s this:

1: Castiel is in heaven with Dean. They are together. They have a second chance.

2. It was said only 30% of the fanbase would like this ending. Like many people I assumed that meant a Destiel ending. Cause I thought out of the whole fanbase shippers were in the minority. Nope turns of the the Winc*sters/B*bros are the 30%. Destiel fans, Cass fans, Misha fans are part of the 70% who hate this. Though why you would want to only please 30% of your fanbase is beyond me.

3. Sam was able to live a long happy life without being codependent on his brother.

I absolutely hated the last two episodes and how this show ended. Again the only saving grace is knowing Jack got Castiel out of The Empty and he and Dean reunited in heaven. But no matter how much I hated 99% of the ending. I still love this show and all it’s characters. I will happily go back and watch it over again to relive the good, funny, sad, bittersweet moments. The final 90 minutes of the series is not going to ruin that for me. I love Sam and Dean but Castiel is my favorite and I will happily go back and enjoy everything about his character. I am not going to let this ruin Supernatural for me. Next summer I am going to my first SPN Convention and I can’t wait. I may have only discovered the greatness of Supernatural a year ago after avoiding it for so long but I want it to stay apart of my life. Like I said I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago but this hurt my heart so much I only imagine how those of your who’ve been here for over a decade feel.

I know this was very, very long and I probably actually forgot some things I wanted to say. But I’m tired.

Cass and Dean are in heaven together. I believe they are canon 💙💚

#destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #spn 15x20 spoilers #cass and dean deserve better

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

Text

Ask Me Who I Am, Pretend You Know My Face

Let 👏 Anne 👏 Have 👏 Feelings 👏 And 👏 Character 👏 Depth 👏

AKA Anne has an existential crisis. Anon requested “this isn’t you sounds very much like something happens to Anne and she just shuts down...? Maybe Beheaded Cousins?” And I’m happy to oblige. I’m not a big fan of the ending, but I didn’t know how else to tie it together. Not sure what went through my mind when I wrote this, but have it anyway. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I’m now a war veteran.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Existential crisis, anxiety, cursing

Anne Boleyn was many people. She was the temptress history remembered her as. She was the carefree gremlin that the queens’ show presented her as. She was a woman wrongly beheaded by her vengeful husband. She was the mother of one of England’s greatest monarchs and more.

Of all things Anne was great at, it was acting. She had been doing it long before her second life, and now it was her profession. There wasn’t a time she wasn’t playing a role and charming someone. And it took a toll on Anne, to the point where she never stopped acting. Even when she went to bed, Anne gave her mirror a charismatic smile and winked, making sure her mask was on. Playing a role was easier than playing herself.

It was easy to distract historians who came to interview her. Anne was the most well known queen, so she often had solo interviews to deal with from pushy historians. At first it had been a lot to deal with, but Anne had grown used to their invasive questions. They were almost always the same, so she had her prepared answers. They never wanted to know about her opinions or choices, they wanted to know about all the drama and ‘seduction’ she took part in.

It was Anne’s offday and she had a plethora of interviews scheduled. It wasn’t her chosen way of spending the day, but she needed to get them done anyway. She wasn’t one to turn interviewers away without even meeting them, so she decided to make a day out of it. The first interview wasn’t too bad, actually starting out on a relatively high note. The interviewer was a big fan of the show, and she wanted to know about the dynamics of the queens and what it was like being reincarnated. She made sure Anne knew she didn’t have to answer a question if she was uncomfortable, and Anne was grateful for that.

The second interview was fine. The historian wasn’t too pushy and seemed generally respectful, but he kept asking questions that dragged up bad memories for Anne. By the time the interview was over, she could feel herself settling into a frustrated mindset. This third interview would not go well, and Anne knew that the second she walked into the small office.

This historian was an old white man with greying hair and ancient glasses. She could already tell he was one of those snobs who would argue that his opinion was fact. But rather than judge him right off the bat, Anne put on her excited persona and gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Hello!” she spoke happily, giving him a dazzling grin.

“Ah yes, Anne Boleyn,” he spoke in a rickety old voice. He pulled down his glasses and gave a smile that seemed to physically pain him. “I’m Director Hoffman, pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Anne replied, shaking his hand. This was the third time she’d gone through the motions today, but she acted as if it was her first.

Director Hoffman leaned back into his seat and sighed. Anne sat in the seat across from his desk and put her hands in her lap. He had a pen and paper in front of him, as if he could record the entire interview by hand. Anne already had a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, but she attempted to stifle it. “Let’s get started, shall we.” Anne nodded silently, waiting for his questions. “What made you go after King Henry VIII?”

Cringing, Anne realized he was jumping right into the thick of it. “Really it was my father. He pushed me to get involved with Henry for power. It wasn’t so much my choice.”

“But,” Hoffman pushed, “that’s not what historical records say. In fact, most everyone agrees that you were highly calculated in your bid to steal the King from his wife.”

Anne clenched her teeth and attempted to stay civil. “Well history tends to be misleading about a lot of things. As someone who lived the experience, I can tell you for a fact that those records were not written with me in mind. They paint Henry as a saint while putting me and his other wives down, painting us as horrible when that wasn’t the reality of it.”

Hoffman didn’t write any of that on his page. “I find that hard to believe,” he stared at Anne. “How is it that this airheaded girl you appear to be broke England from the Church?”

“This might be hard to believe,” Anne’s voice dripped with malice, “but men tend to over exaggerate when they let their dick decide.”

The director’s eyes widened and he grew aghast. “What an improper thing for a lady to say!”

“Freedom of speech,” Anne shrugged. “Another thing we didn’t have back then. All your documents you rely so heavily on, they only say what Henry wanted to hear. It’s all biased.”

Director Hoffman absolutely refused to listen to what Anne was saying. “You, Anne Boleyn,” he practically hissed, “are a disgrace to the historical figure this country remembers. You are a disgrace to Elizabeth and all English monarchs. You should be ashamed of who you are.”

Biting her cheek to keep from screaming, Anne slammed her hands on Hoffman’s desk. The old man leaned away from her, fear creeping in behind his eyes. Restraining herself, Anne stepped back and marched out of the room, not so much as glancing back.

On her way back to the queens’ house, Anne hadn’t lost any of her anger. She couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone telling her who to be when she was already trying to cater to them. She tried and tried and tried and they were never happy with what she gave them. Maybe she was broken.

Storming into the house, Anne didn’t acknowledge any of the other queens. “Anne? Where are you going?” Jane called from the dinner table where all the others queens were conversing with each other.

“Leave me alone,” she said, continuing through the room to get to the stairs.

“Hey, don’t leave Anne,” Aragon told her, standing up. “You should at least come eat.”

Freezing but not turning around, Anne growled, “I don’t want your food, okay?”

Cathy frowned and put her fork down. “Anne, is there something wrong? You can tell us -”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Anne yelled, still staring at the wall. “Or maybe everything’s wrong, I don’t know. But nothing’s changed, so you don’t need to worry. Go back to your food.” And then she left the queens, and shut herself up in her room.

The other five queens all shared confused glances around the table. “I’ll handle this one,” Kat said, standing up.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Anna asked, her eyes flicking to the stairs where Anne had just been. “She doesn’t seem to be in the most forgiving mood.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kat made her way to the stairs. “She’s my cousin and I’m going to try and help her.” And then she was gone as well, disappearing up the stairs to (hopefully) make Anne feel better.

Muttering, “Godspeed,” Cathy gave the air a small salute.

As Kat traveled up the stairs to Anne’s room, she couldn’t help but hold her breath. Literally anything could be going on with Anne and she had absolutely no grounding with how to deal with it. Still, this was her cousin and she would try her best. “Anne?” Kat knocked on her door. “Can I come in.”

“I can’t stop you,” came Anne’s defeated voice from inside.

Gently opening the door, Kat made her way to Anne’s bed. The girl in question was lying face down on the bed, her limbs spread out at awkward angles. “Hey Anne… how are you doing.”

Anne scoffed into the bedsheets. “What do you think Kat?”

“I think you’re pretending to be angry to hide that you’re hurting.”

Kat noted the way Anne reacted to her words. She sat up from her position and faced Kat with a defensive glare. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m fine. Good and dandy! Happy fucking Christmas,” Anne snarled, her upper lip starting to curl.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kat quietly asked, moving closer to her cousin.

Anne pulled away, creating distance between her and Kat. “I don’t need to talk about anything. Why can’t you let that go? Crawl back to Jane and leave me alone.”

A pang of hurt went through Kat, but she brushed it off. Anne didn’t mean it, even if her words still stung. Biting her tongue and glancing down at the floor, Kat summoned up her courage. “This isn’t you Anne.”

Chuckling ruefully, Anne fiddled with her bedsheets. “Was this ever me?” That definitely wasn’t the response Kat was expecting, but she kept quiet as Anne started to unravel. “I’ve never been me, have I?” Her voice started to quiver, a sign that she was holding back tears, or something much worse. “I’m the temptress or I’m the falsely accused. I’m the ditzy stage girl or I’m the chaotic wingman. I’m the slut or I’m the King’s prize. But I’m not me.”

Of all people Kat would think to have an existential crisis, it was not Anne. Her cousin always seemed so confident and sure of herself, but here she seemed so confused and broken down. “Anne, you aren’t defined by just one thing.”

“Then what am I defined by?” Anne shot back, her eyes red. “The documents of history? They’re bullshit,” she spit. “Am I defined by my show persona? It’s seventy-five minutes, that can’t be it, Kat!”

The genuine fear on Anne’s face as she tried to figure out how to define herself frightened Kat. “I know the real you.”

“Do you?” Anne asked, the pleading in her voice real. “Please, tell me who I am, because I can’t take this any longer. I’ve tried so hard to do what they want,” Anne’s voice broke. “And they’re never satisfied.”

Grabbing Anne’s hand and pulling her closer, Kat made sure they were face to face. "You are my cousin. You're loyal and caring and you would kill anyone who looks badly at your friends. You're the life of the party, always encouraging people to be their best self. You are educated and smart, even though you tend to hide it. You're human and you have emotions just like anyone else. You are Anne Boleyn."

Choking back tears, Anne threw herself into Kat’s arms. “What if I can’t be that? What if I’m not who you want me to be?”

“Oh Annie, I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself. No matter who you are, I’ll still love you.” For a moment, Kat thought Jane must’ve been rubbing off on her because of the sudden role reversal. But Kat didn’t mind being the one to comfort her cousin, especially when she needed it so badly.

Anne flopped back on her bed, taking a giggling Kat with her. “Can you stay with me tonight?” Anne asked, her voice small.

Rolling to the side so she could face her cousin, Kat immediately agreed. “I’d love to stay with you Annie. But we should probably change into pajamas. And you need to eat something for dinner.”

Kat started to get up, but Anne pulled her back down, hugging her tightly. “No, Cousin Cuddles first.”

“Cousin Cuddles are the best cuddles,” Kat mumbled contentedly.

Before they knew it, both cousins had fallen asleep together, safe and sound.

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

Tag list:

@radcowboyalmondtree@boleynhowards@annabanana2401@babeebobo@dont-lose-your-queerhead@everything-insanity

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #beheaded cousins #anne boleyn centric #existential crisis #the other queens are there too #very briefly #old white historians being assholes #i wrote this fic in four hours and it shows

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

Note

FFT: I Wrote Myself Back in the Narrative

AHHH. First of all, without YOU, bb.. This idea would’ve never really full on clicked like it has. So.. Thank you so so so much and ILY. Second. This is written first person, split between our mystery guy from part 1 and the female’s pov as they... continue to deal with things. I triiiied things here.

It’s still angsty as hell, smh. It’s gonna be angsty as hell for a hot minute. Idek if I can promise that it’ll end on a good note. Because now there are two more parts to this. Thank you again, so so much because you heavily inspired me and without the input you gave, ugh. I would’ve fucked this up so bad.

Warnings: Angst. So much angst. Or my /attempt/ at angst. Maybe the next part will be happier, who knows. Are we ready to find out who this man in part 1 was? I have a feeling ya’ll are gonna murder me. OH OH... This whole part of everything takes place over the course of a few weeks in between each section. If that makes sense.

Tag Squad:

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@unabashedwrestlefics

@adampage

@cabotcoves

@dietwrestling

@heelsamizayn

@missjenniferb

@cowboyshit

[ tag list ] [ masterlist ] [ about ] [ part 1 ]

A D A M

“You did the right thing, man. I told ya, you were rushing headfirst into something. You were sparing her, man. We both know where it was heading. Now I know you’ve been missin her lately, but you gotta stay the course… Trust me.” Matt’s voice broke through my thoughts and I forced myself to at least shrug my shoulders and pretend to be listening to him going on and on and on.

It’s nights like tonight I really wish the guy would shut the hell up sometimes. It’s like he thinks it’s his place to tell me exactly what to do. Or when I’m doin’ something and he thinks I ought to be doing it different.

“Matt, man.. C’mon, knock it off. He’s hurting right now.” That was Nick. Probably the only real voice of reason at the moment. I could feel him glare at Matty over my head and I didn’t bother looking up from the lukewarm beer sitting in front of me. Instead, I raised the glass to my lips and did my level best to ignore both. I told them I’d be fine coming out by myself tonight, whether I wanted them tagging along or not, here they were.

In my ear, like usual.

“I’m fine.” the words left my mouth in a harsh tone, the dull ache in my teeth makin me realize just how tight I was clenching my jaw right now. I rubbed my face and tried to get some relief as I looked around the bar.

Beside me on either side, they kept at it, almost as if I hadn’t said a word. Arguin over whether Matt was pushin too hard.

“Besides, man.. When I saw her last week, she looked totally fine.” Matt shrugged, smirking just a little. “In a little bit of a hurry, but she seemed like it didn’t bother her at all. I think she even said something about a date, I don’t know, man. But it’s like I said… You did the right thing. It wasn’t working, so you ended things before someone got hurt and things got real messy.”

Every part of me tensed up when Matt said he’d seen her and my head snapped around as I looked at him, trying not to lose my temper. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me… Matt was entirely too adamant about me staying away.

And we all know how he is when he wants something.

,, you’re the one who let her go. Did you think she’d just sit around waitin?” the thought came and man was I bitter about it.

“You look mad, Adam.”

“Well I’m not thrilled right now, Matt.” the words came out before I could stop them. And when they did, I realized just how much the thought of Matt Jackson anywhere near her really bothered me. How much it had all along. Because he thinks I’m stupid but I knew every single time he flirted with her. I know he’s the one who told her about my last relationship and how messed up I was when it ended.

How my ex was the love of my life, to quote him. While true, I didn’t want or need him speaking for me and telling her that. I didn’t ask him to butt in.

,, you never do, to be honest.”

My hand curled around the bottle sitting in front of me and I shotgunned it. If I didn’t so something, I was going to wind up havin it out with Matt Jackson once and for all. Not that it hasn’t been a long time comin.. Between him and Kenny, as of late, I’m startin to lose my damn mind.

I stay angry.

They’re supposed to be my best friends, damn it. I don’t wanna hate my best friends. I try not to. I do everything but bend over backwards to avoid rocking the boat. But Matt seein her and just throwing it up in conversation just now, with that fucking smirk. Like he’s trying to rub it in. I’m dangerously close to no longer caring.

I had to get outta there. Away from the two of them. I needed to be alone. I needed to think. To have time to hurt and feel like I was free to do it.

“Where are you going, huh? We’ve got food coming, man. C’mon. Stay out with us. You can’t keep going to your room and hiding.” Nick was trying desperately to keep the peace but honestly, I didn’t want to. I snatched up the remainder of the six pack I bought from the bartender earlier in the night, slammed badly wadded money down on the counter and I stood, shoving the stool back beneath the bar.

Nick caught up to me outside the bar, reaching out for my arm, trying to stop me, but I shoved his hand off.

“Can’t either of ya take a damn hint? I don’t wanna talk about how I did the right thing. I don’t wanna hear about Matt runnin into her. I just wanna go five goddamn minutes without feelin, okay? Can either of ya just let me have that?”

Nick flinched and I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Nick’s done nothin to me. Not like his brother and Kenny, always in my ear, always tryin to make me fall back in line and ignore my own gut. Or my own desires.

“Sorry, Nick. Look. I appreciate what you’re tryin to do but I ain’t exactly in the mood tonight, man. And I might not be in the mood for a while. And ya’ll have to be okay with that. Stop trying to make me snap out of it.”

“This is because Matt pulled that shit in there, right? I’ll talk to him later. Just take your time, man.” Nick managed a smile and I nodded, agreeing.

After he went back inside the bar to finish whatever food they ordered while watching the tail end of the game they’d dragged me out to watch with them tonight, I called an Uber and as I waited, I found myself doing it yet again.

Hovering over ❤ in my contacts, I was torn between finally doing it, finally deleting the last trace of her I had, from my life and just hitting call, just to see if she’d answer. Frustration made me shove the phone back into the pocket of my jeans without doing either and I went back to leaning up against the wall of the sports bar as I finished the open beer in my hand. I took the last sip, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and settle in my stomach, grimacing at the hangover already in progress. The Uber I’d called for pulled to a stop beside me and I got in, giving directions to the hotel and going silent after.

All the way across town and back to the hotel, I couldn’t stop thinking about that last night I saw her. Or the way it hurt like hell when Matt told me she seemed fine.

,, do you really want it to hurt her, though?”

I didn’t, but I couldn’t deny that maybe a part of me wanted her to miss me just a little. To hear Matt tell it, she’s fine and dandy. And this lead me to circle right back to how calmly she handled the whole thing that night.

And those doubts crept right back in again.

Maybe the guys were right. Maybe I did the right thing.

,, and Matt having a thing for flirting with her when you were together, right under your nose at that, that has absolutely nothing to do with why he thought it was a good idea.”

All I could honestly do was just sit in the backseat of the Uber and knock ‘em back, one behind the other. Anything else is out of the question right now. I am not goin’ down this road while I’m drunk and missin her.

If I did go down any road as far as all this is concerned, I wanna be one hundred percent sure I feel what I feel. I need to think. I need time outta the situation, without people in my ear.

This is something I have to do on my own.

VERONICA

Like most other nights, I tossed and turned on the king sized bed before finally calling it and getting up, grumbling to myself as I made my way down the hallway and into my kitchen. I started myself a pot of coffee and as I did that, I found myself scrolling Instagram.

Naturally, I found myself doing it, even though I unfollowed him on literally everything after things ended between us because it just hurt too damn much.

It’s been almost 5 months now and it still hurts. The pain still cuts like a knife when I actually give myself a little time to let it linger.

Kind of why I’ve thrown myself into work. I even made a Tinder profile, even though I’m absolutely loathe to use the damn thing.

Before I realized what I’d done, I’d typed his instagram handle into the search bar and I found myself scrolling his timeline while I sipped a steamy mug of coffee. “At least he looks okay.” I muttered to myself, shattering the heavy silence around me.

Despite myself, I wound up spending entirely too much time watching one of his random post match videos. Fingertip against the screen. It hurt so goddamn much and yet, it had to happen because all I could think about was how much he loved someone else and just kind of… settled for me.

Running into his friend Matt earlier this week hadn’t helped all this recent re-stirring. Because even now, actively not trying to think back and hurt and miss Adam knowing what happened between us was for the best… I kept going back to Matt reassuring me that Adam was perfectly fine and that he hadn’t been bothered by breaking up with me at all. And I kept getting more and more bitter over it.

When I felt a tear trek down my cheek, I tossed the phone onto the counter and scowled at my reflection in the microwave.

I told myself I was not settling for being silver. I wanna be someone’s gold.

,, but he made it so fucking easy to fall hard and fast. Get so wrapped up in him that for a little while, you didn’t think about that.” I blatantly shoved the thought down as soon as it crossed my mind and with a sigh, I sat the cup of coffee in the sink half drank.

I’ve got work. Other things to focus on. And I’m trying to look at the bright side here. One day, I’ll be someone’s gold.

VERONICA

→ You know you’re coming out with us tonight, right girl?

I got the text at 4:30, just as I walked out of the building I work in and stopped to dig around in my purse for my car keys. Once I read it, I laughed to myself and managed a smile. Normally, I’d have begged off. It’s what I’ve been doing a lot since things ended between Adam and I.

But I remembered what Matt told me two weeks ago when I bumped into him. Adam hasn’t wasted a single second caught up in what might have been. Why should I?

← Sure. 8, right? The usual spot?

→ Holy shit, is this a Christmas miracle coming early? You’re finally going to take a break from being Little Ms. Moneymaker?

I laughed to myself and opened the door to my car, getting in. As soon as I had, I dialed Marti’s number.

“Little Ms. Moneymaker, my ass. I’d like to see one shred of this money you think I’m making.” I responded to her last text seconds before, she hadn’t even said hello yet.

Marti laughed.

I turned into traffic, promptly getting stuck at a long red. “Fuck me alive.. It had to be the longest light in town.” I grumbled to myself, listening to Marti telling me about a soccer player she met at our usual bar a few weeks ago and how he’s supposed to be back from the road tonight and meeting her.

“Oh? Well, guess who made a Tinder and hasn’t bothered looking at it since.”

“You.. Wait…” Marti was laughing, I know she didn’t believe me, “You made a Tinder.”

“Yes.” I almost wanted to laugh at myself, shaking my head as I admitted it.

“Well? Have you met anybody?” she grilled.

“I made the profile and haven’t bothered looking at it since.” I admitted sheepishly, foot on the gas as the light changed from red to green.

“That’s it. Tonight, so help me. You’re swiping right on at least one guy.”

“Teenie..”

“Don’t Teenie me. This is happening. Not to mention, I have to see if you actually made your profile worth looking at twice. Especially if you want hookups. And trust me girl, you need a hookup.”

“Like I need a goddamn hole in my head.” I snorted in laughter as I pulled my car to a stop at the curb in front of my house. “But fine.. Since you insist. You can look over my Tinder profile and see if it looks like I’m worth risking a swipe on.”

“You are, don’t say that. You just… try to hide the real you under all that boring shit.”

I bit my lip as I let her words sink in.

Maybe she had a point. I hadn’t truly let Adam in until I thought it was safe to do so and look how that one turned out. I sighed quietly, nodding to myself as I shut the door to my car with my hip. “Okay. Hint taken. But maybe I need to change all that.”

“So maybe you’ll pull the stick out of your ass tonight and have just a little fun? You know I hate seeing you hurting like this.”

“It doesn’t hurt. It was for the best… That whole thing ended.”

As much as I hate admitting it, given what Matt told me when we ran into each other, things ending with Adam and I had to be the right choice.

,, but what if you’re totally wrong?”

ADAM

I’m not even sure what possessed me to look her up when we got a little break between shows and the road. I don’t know what the hell I thought it’d accomplish, casually bumpin into her again, other than ripping the band-aid off a healing wound.

But here I was. Standing in the parking lot of her office building. Hidden out of sight, of course. Not that I was going to stay hidden. No, I’d come all this way to do exactly one thing… To fix the mess I now know full well I made that night.

I’ve had time out of it all and I realized one thing.

Somewhere in everything, I really had fallen for her. Hard.

I just had to hope it wasn’t too late. But prepare myself because lately, my luck’s been absolute shit.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched her walking out. I bit my lip, eyes roaming slowly, just taking her in. Because I hadn’t done that nearly enough when she was mine. I was an idiot.

Seeing her again felt like a suckerpunch to the stomach. The wind got knocked right out of me. I stood there, trying to will myself to step out. To say or do anything. Even if it was simple as a hey.

She walked right past me, towards her Camaro a few rows back and she leaned against the Camaro, laughing and talking. I had to get closer but at the same time, I knew that all I was doing was torturing myself, especially if I came all this way and said nothing.

I watched her smile light up the world around me as a car pulled to a stop next to her car. The guy got out and she smiled even brighter, her cheeks tinting pink, her eyes lighting up, the streetlight above bathing her in a cool white glow as the sun sank lower.

The guy didn’t strike me as her type. Dark haired, wearin a suit. He held out a bouquet of roses and my stomach sank to the ground. I raised a hand, tugging at my hair as it hit me.

Everything I realized recently was too little, too late.

I turned and started to walk away, I think I wandered about two blocks before I stopped at a little bar and went in, ordering myself a few rounds. Almost the instant my ass met stool, my cell phone was buzzing in my pocket. I rolled my eyes when I realized that it was Kenny calling.

Kenny who suggested I come here. Seeing her might prove things one way or another. I shouldn’t have fucking listened to him, but naturally.. He insisted, so I finally gave in to get him off my ass.

“Well?”

“I think it’s really over, man. I saw her, alright. And she’s happy. Too happy to do what I came to do.”

“So you’re good now. You can let this go. You can stop all this pushing you’ve been doing lately?”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin that. We all know I deserve a shot. I just know better than to mess up her happiness. I love her too much for that.”

“Damn it, Adam, we’ve all went over this with you. Your time is coming. Just not right now. Besides, “ Kenny paused, taking a few deep breaths. I could feel his annoyance over the conversation through the phone.

That’s not a surprise. Lately, I’ve started to see that unless it’s about them? They’re not interested. And maybe I’m tired of letting everybody else dictate what direction I take. Hell, that’s the whole reason I ended things with her to begin with.

I let my insecurities get in the way. Kept thinking one day she’d leave too.

Now I just want her back.

So if I can’t have her back? I’m at least going to do something about everything else I want that stays just outside my grasp.

“Besides what, huh?” I snapped, chewing on a toothpick I’d taken from the little dispenser full sitting in front of me, scowling at the phone in my hands.

“You’re not in your best form right now, buddy and you haven’t been in weeks.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

And as I sat there, nursing round after round, I found myself doing it for the millionth time… Going to her instagram and going through every single thing she’s posted. Hovering over her name in my contacts list and nearly calling five, six, almost seven times before I finally sighed and made myself delete her number.

I really fucked it up this time.

And honestly? Knowing that hurts more than the end ever did in the first place...

#kyleoreillysknee

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alias-b · 4 years ago

Note

Miss Bee enlighten me whilst I still have 2 and a half hours left of work; what's your most and least favourite quality about each of your OCs? Camille, Lucy and Evie (and anyone else I might have forgotten? But I think that's all of them lmao) I'm finding myself going through a lot of character building worksheets and I wanted your Hot Take on your OCs 😁✌🏻

!!!!!!!!!! I’ll just do my OCs for my long fics, Nell & Marnie have very tiny roles in their horror one shots but I adore them!! SRY IM ABT TO WRITE AN ESSAY

Camille: Camille !!!!!!!!! My babie. She’s so strong. Homegirl had her entire identity snatched away, survived, persevered, and built a family all her own. She grew into her own chasing down justice & happiness, she’s just so powerful. Even being a mean girl, Camille protected her young peers from adults who belittled and sexualized them. She shameless.

I love her extrovert and hotheaded nature. She always stands up loudly for her beliefs and what’s right. I don’t often write extrovert OCs who rule the school as Queen Bee with a pretty boy on her arm. Her whole journey to build her own identity after everything was just really special to me. That said, Camille always always always had a problem with perfection due to her ability and upbringing so it was a struggle at times for her to open up about pain bc she’d rather be mangled and have everyone see her as pretty and perfect. She spent a lot of time lying to herself and ya just wanted to shake her!! What she and Billy had was super special and wonderful tho.

** ** **

Lucy: I’m so mean to her, I’ll just start there. Lucy has a tendency to just lie down and take pain bc of Martin’s conditioning which always makes me sad. She’s easily broken down and shattered, which I don’t think are all bad things. They just make sense for what’s happened to her in life.

I still enjoy the grey shades I created her in. She’s done a lot of questionable things to survive and save others. She’s stood back and had to let people die or get hurt. She’s killed plenty herself. I think there’s a lot she’s done that readers don’t agree with but I love that!!

That struggle won’t end with Brenner out of her life, in fact there’s something almost more fragile about her without him that she’s working through. I think they’re very toxic soulmates and the other side of the coin with her & Jim. I love this glimmer of hope to get to the end of her journey though. She has every reason to want to see the world rot and she can be a scarier villain than Brenner himself, but she still believes in love and in good. She’s willing to die for her loved ones and also that’s the bad side, she’s willing to die for her loved ones. She had every intention of dying with Martin at the end of S1. They’re forever antagonists.

But, seeing her grow and hope again after so much pain in life like it’s really never too late to come back from something awful. I love that she stands for that.

** ** **

Evie: My girrrrrrrrllll. My lovely little plush songstress. Evie sure is something. She’s an introvert but she isn’t quite shy, she’s just very withholding. She’s used to being ignored/pushed aside/hurt so she really locked her heart away in the hopes no one could touch it to hurt it. Nothing bad will touch it, but nothing good will either. She’s also SO easily skittish to run/back pedal at the first sight of possible hurt when opening up so I think it can be frustrating. She doesn’t cry openly, she just goes cold and shuts down. People seeing her in pain or vulnerable is just too much. It hurts.

Like Camille, she’d rather be seen as fine and dandy than display pain but it’s to the point with Evie that her personality feels mutilated. They both grow up too fast because of older men. She’s a dreamer and lost a lot of the time in repressed trauma and disassociation is gonna be an issue. It started with her inability to display hurt and anger before her parents so she pretended to be perfect until nothing else existed.

But, I like that Evie never tries to treat others the way she is. She’s always understanding and encouraging, even to bullies in her life. Carol, Tommy, and even Brock. She’s so kind because kindness is free. She puts everyone else’s pain above her own which is a good/bad thing. I love her empathy and her huge dreams, the girl’s still a fighter. She wants to survive. To get on stage. To touch other people and help them with music. She wants to badly to share herself even if she’s so blocked up a lot of the time.

TY TY TY TY !!!!!!!!!!! Sorry for the rambling essay but it’s justtt, I have to talk today lmao

#angel fenny #Lucy Garland #Camille Harper #ask #THANK YOUUUU

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halitophobia · 5 years ago

Text

Blind Eye - One

Pairings ⟶ OC x Hank's Daughter! Reader (TEMPORARILY) , RK800! Connor x Hank's Daughter! Reader (EVENTUALLY)

A/N ⟶ Hello! I'm a little new to the DBH world, but I'm in complete awe of the story and Connor haha....anyways, I have been thinking about writing a series for him for a while and decided to go for it. This is mainly for testing the water - I'm not new to writing fanfiction or Tumblr (at.all.), but sure am new to putting my own work out to the public. So here goes nothing...(P.S. I'd absolutely love feedback and constructive criticism ! Truly ! TRULY.) Uh.. P.P.S. This is basically chapter one - just want to see how it goes :)

Disclaimer ⟶ I for one, obviously do not own any of the characters from the DBH universe whatsoever

Warnings ⟶ (for this blurb specifically...) quite a handful lots of swearing, violence, mentions of death, stubborn reader, stubborn Hank, spoilers...? (for this series...) slow burn, sLoW bUrN, SLOW BURN, alcohol abuse (Hankster), all warnings from the blurb, angst, toxic relationship, eventual....fluff, happiness, cute stuff, flustered Connor, flustered Reader, all the gushy-ness, and ?????smut?????

Word Count ⟶ 3000

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

----

NOV 5th, 2038 - 11:53:07 PM

You hang up your phone, eyes covered from your damp palm, and let out a breath you hadn't realized was being withheld. Your hand sloppily drags down your face, and you squint out the car window. The streams of rainwater on the glass blur the scene, resulting in hues of spinning red and blue. You huff, narrowing your eyes at...seemingly nothing. You shouldn't even be here. You shouldn't have given in. If it weren't for the damn situation back at your apartment, you'd probably be enjoying a searing-hot shower; or better yet, shamelessly devouring an excessively large bowl of sugary cereal.

"Miss?"

You're pulled away from your somewhat pleasant thoughts by the gruff taxi driver sitting in front of you. You sniffle by accident, revealing other unwanted emotions, and swirl your hand in your bag. Silently praying to yourself, you wait for something circular and cold, or thin and crumpled to brush your fingers.

After a solid minute or two, your hand tightens on a cluster of bills. You yank them out, thrusting them toward the man. Avoiding his gaze, quite obviously, you knit your brows together, really hoping you don't have to say that famous line...

"S'all I have." your voice annoyingly childish.

He scoffs. "You're lucky I don't have enough energy to argue."

With your eyes still locked on the door cupholder, his hand slaps yours. You feel his chewed fingernails scrape your palm, the money following suit. He grumbles something about getting out of the vehicle, which you gladly act upon.

Entering the delightful weather, you squint your eyes and do your best to use your hand as a visor. Scurrying past members of the crew whining like toddlers, you stop before a line of familiar yellow tape that keeps you from your destination. An officer standing on the opposite side warns 'unauthorized persons aren't permitted past'. Tell me something I don't know...

Your lips part, a snappy remark waiting patiently at the back of your throat, when a short plump man waddles toward you.

"By God, is that actually you, Y/N?" he awkwardly chuckles, eyes halfway shut from the rain trickling down his forehead.

"Detective Collins," you reply, forming a tight smile.

"Let her in, the big man requested her." he smiles back.

Reluctantly, the officer lifts the tape, watching you swoop under. You straighten out and wait for the white-haired man to start blabbering about how long it's been.

"It's been a while, huh? Was just starting to get used to not having you around." he teasingly grins, bumping your shoulder.

Nodding, you follow him onto the porch of a house simply waiting to crumble apart. The detective continues to talk about what it had been like after your absence and you flutter the collar of your heavy coat. Feeling your throat physically invert from the horrid stench, you grimace, shaming yourself for forgetting about this part of the job. Your ears truly tune into his voice as he starts to talk about the case. The dusty clogs in your brain begin to turn, grasping at key facts such as 'presumed murder weapon is a kitchen knife', 'no sign of a break-in', and 'owning an android that is nowhere in sight'. You can't help but pull back your top lip in a hateful snarl. You don't like that word. You don't like that word at all. In fact, you never did. Shaking your head, you glance around, taking in both the chaotic environment you basically grew up in, and the evidence gleaming before you.

Lowering yourself eye-to-eye with the...late Carlos Ortiz, your gaze wanders over his abdomen. It's grimly decorated with multiple stab wounds which you can't help but study closer. Your eyebrows slightly lift, and one might think you were unimpressed, but you were just amazed at the rage embedded within the victim's gut.

"The victim fled to...the living room." a young voice claims, making your focus falter.

What's an intern doing at a place this brutal?

As the question floats through your mind, every muscle, pulsing vein, and wavering breath coursing through your body comes to a halt - for that is when you hear it. Or should you say him. No, I really shouldn't...

"And he tried to get away from the andro- what the fuck?" you close your eyes, preparing yourself for the new crime scene to unfold. Here we go...

"Y/N? What the...wh..." his knowing voice somewhat amuses you; you've never heard him this...speechless.

Steadily, you bring yourself to full height, still not having turned to see the Lieutenant. Feeling that instinctive mode envelope you, you tug a spiteful grin from your lips, finally shifting to see-

"Hi. Hank." his name crawls out of your mouth like a shiny, black beetle.

You watch his eyes widen, only to shrink into slivers. His mouth recoiling into that signature frown, and his breath creating angry puffs of steam. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he spits, crossing his arms over his chest. Same old geezer.

You scoff. "That's no way to greet your little girl."

He glares harder and makes threatening strides toward you. "You are not my fucking little girl." he shoves a finger at you, "You better get out of my fucking way. This is my case, and you are not going to be involved." You raise your eyebrows, pretending to be shocked by his filthy mouth.

"And that's definitely no way to speak to your little girl."

His yellow teeth come to show and he growls at your ignorance. "Ben! Get your ass in here!" his words are poison. Within seconds, the round detective makes his way through, a knowing and pained expression pressed into the creases of his face.

"Hank?" a nervous crack in his voice says it all.

"Why on fucking earth would you let this snake onto the crime scene!" Hank fumes. You laugh and shake your head. Naturally, you sense fellow detectives and crew seep their way into the living room. Audience is right on time... "She's villainous, disastrous, manipulative, and downright fucking evil!"

You nod, shrivelling your nose, "You're one to speak, Hank." letting some loose hairs fall in front of your eyes.

He tousles his hair in disgust, "You really think they're just going to hand you your job back and everything will be fine and dandy?" Hank shouts, saliva shooting out between his teeth.

"Captain Fowler has been desperately trying to get me back on the team, calling me constantly like a horny frat boy!" you claim, making sure your voice comes level to his. "So, sorry to break it to you, but it's clearly already happened."

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it's happening again!" he turns away, circling back to you. "You just get to clip clop your fucking way back into my life and career without having to pass one goddamn obstacle!" his fingers tug at his grey locks, sweat collecting at his hairline.

"Oh yeah, life's tough, huh Dad? Not having to pass an obstacle, ever been kicked out of your own home with only thirty-two fucking bucks clutched in your hand and a bottle of beer in the other?" you bark, acknowledging the others in the room is long gone from now.

"How many times are you going to bring that up!? You decided to bring that absolute bag of shit in my house and have the audacity to let him stay!"

"You didn't have to throw us out!" your throat is stinging now. Your blood is scorching hot, and your jaw is nearly if not fully cemented together. "Drunk off your fucking mind, shoving us out the door and throwing glass bottles at our heads, I mean, what kind of father were you?!"

"You don't get to do that." his voice descends two octaves; dangerously steady. "Y/N Anderson, you do not get to fucking do that." your eyes have now burned into his and you find yourself digging crescent moons into your palms.

"Who's to say?" your words also deep and slow. You're leaning in to size him up, warn him, threaten him, whatever you want to call it.

"Lieutenant and Detective Anderson! If you two do not calm yourselves the fuck out, I'll have no choice but to remove both of you from this ca-" Ben's still here? Since when?

"I am not an Anderson." you correct.

Hank breaks the deathly-still eye contact and moves his head to inspect a crack in the wall. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath.

"You never were."

Your eyes pop open and that withering fire ignites inside you once again, electricity rippling down do the minuscule hairs on your fingers. "Fucking come again?" you yell, moving to get right into his face.

Let's just pause, shall we? This is the same pattern you two always fall into. You say something to sting him, he finds a way to bite you back, and you get offended. It's your stubbornness you've never gotten rid of. This mass of steel in the both of you, sitting at the bottom of your stomachs, never ever willing to budge. You've both a tree trunk up your asses and what's happened in the past has done quite the opposite than removing them. Just...come on, listen to this. This argument is a bicycle missing its back tire - going to go absolutely no where. This acid you throw back and forth, a cute duel of 'hot potato', engraves wounds to the both of you; it never ends. Honestly, you don't think it ever will. And what could have ever happened to cause a world war between the two of you? Let's just say these past few years have been utterly devastating and neither of you have taken it well.

Exactly four minutes and twelve seconds go by, and your hand is latched onto the Lieutenant's throat. His hands are suffocating your biceps, and in return, you decide to start kicking. Detective Collins wraps his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you away from your 'opponent'. You see a young man do the same to Hank - a little less effortlessly.

"Get the hell off me!" your father rages, whipping his arms from the brunette's grasp.

You sharpen your eyes and study Hank's ‘partner’. No. fucking. way. "This your little pet?" you rip your arms from your restrainer and proceed to enter the fighting arena. "After all that's happened, you end up getting a weasel to train. And even better, it's a fucking android?" your words are deadly now. You feel betrayed. Backstabbed. Run over by a damn bulldozer.

There's a slight hesitance in Hank's response, and to you, it only plasters upon his face, a large sign reading 'WARNING! I'm a loser!' "I wasn't-" he starts, but you're just too quick.

"An android!" you repeat, everyone already knowing the taste of your venom from the first time.

"Y/N dammit, will you let me-" Hank's voice is wavering, ever so slightly. Of course only you notice.

"This thing will corrupt the case! You really want to trust scraps of polished metal and plastic hair? It doesn't understand emotion or motive! How will it ever track down a suspect?" you growl, twisting your wrist within the steel rings holding you back.

"Telling me I had the audacity to invite a guy home," you continue, "yet you have the audacity to work alongside this piece of junk; the cause of-" you can't help it. It still hurts. Your words are discarded due to the contraction of your throat. Pull it together, no time for this shit. You cover it up, in the mere seconds of weakness. "I bet it’s got a name, huh? This your new so-"

"I did not agree to work with this thing!" his rotten finger is thrown at the bot, "I don't even remember the fuckin' name!" he says this as if he's defending himself.

"My name is Connor. I am the android sent by Cyb-"

"SHUT UP!" your voices in-sync, a combined evil no one would ever want to cross.

----

Satisfied by the first...'warning', Connor pivots away, wandering back toward the kitchen. Both your voices are woven with malice, he considers. Your blood is pumping at immense speed, and if it weren't for your human forms, you'd have already combusted by now. The emphasis on your sentences make it very difficult for him to differentiate swear words from others. Pausing for a beat, he peers over at you, deciding to analyze.

ANDERSON, Y/N

Born : D/M/2014 // Short Order Cook (currently unemployed)

Criminal record : Pick-pocketing, shop-lifting

Moving along small hints about you, Connor shifts his attention to your E/C eyes. Despite the low light, he notices the skin surrounding them is vaguely swollen and pink. Below them, your cheeks are gently stained - from rain? His processors scratch that thought. Probability claims...

Subject has been crying. (approximately 45 minutes ago)

Stress Level : 100%

Moving his attention directly across from you, Hank's level of stress is no lower. Connor sees Detective Collins making a phone call to Captain Fowler, only to be immediately rejected. It's midnight on the last day of the week, Captain Fowler doesn't give two shits.

Duty sprinkles itself back onto the android's head, and he turns directly toward various splatters of thirium. Easily, he drowns out your agitated argument, and continues on with solving the case.

----

You're out of breath. Completely and utterly out of breath. Your chest is heaving, your jaw is sore and your brain is dangerously pulsing in your skull. You've expectorated every single insult and swear your tainted ears had ever taken in. Your shoulders ache, for Detective Collins had restrained both of you a little while ago; either protecting you from each other, or the others daring to stay in the room. From the outside, you and your old man look like feral wolves, battling for the role of Alpha - except this is just family dinner; without the handcuffs of course.

The other officers have managed to have you on the opposite side of the living room, wraith still oozing from your pores. Hank looks as though he's on the brink of a stroke. He's drunk and probably already engaged for a second round of bickering. Bickering? Yeah..yeah we'll call it that.

This is why you shouldn't have come. You knew - every atom in your damn body knew something bad was going to happen. During the call before being dropped off, Captain Fowler insisted Hank wasn't going to show up. You'd gotten these calls over and over again. Your father's attendance had been downright awful. From what you've been told, people will find him hunched over bars, head low, and buzzing with alcohol. You laugh bitterly at the thought - nothing's changed. Hank Anderson everyone, yes, also known as the fucking prick of the year and Mr. My-Daughter-Can-Eat-Shit-For-All-I-Fucking-Care.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Whadd'ya doin' with that chair?" Hank's voice is harsh and dry.

Everyone's eyes are now drawn to the android that is currently shuffling a fucking chair out of the kitchen. Dumb fuck...

"I'm going to check something."

Wow. Its voice is annoying. Its walk is annoying. Its uniform is ugly. Its snappy remark is really just- I mean, how could he do this to you? You stare at your father and squint your eyes. He barely looks itched by that thing. In fact, he looks amused. By instinct, you're butthurt. In a different reality, happening at the same time, he's just shot you in your back and made out with your fifth grade teacher. At least, that's how you'd imagine it. Painful and disgusting.

Clearing your littering thoughts, you glance around. Most of the team had moved back outside. You're just leant on your right hip, arms still clipped behind your back and you realize your nose is getting pretty fucking itchy. Ruthlessly, you rub your nose against your shoulder, earning a snort from Detective Collins. Oh, so he finds this funny...

"That asshole got his hands back," chucking your temple toward Hank, "why can't I?" you challenge, prepping for an argument toward Ben.

You watch his double chin twitch, his lips parting and coming together. He's afraid of you. Weighing in the facts, you don't think it bugs you as much as it should. To keep it that way, you roll your eyes and shift to your other hip.

"Connor, what the fuck is going on up here?"

So the bitch calls it by its name. 'I don't remember its name' my ass...

A pause indicates its dead. Or gone. Both would be great. "Sounds like your puppy's ran away." you show an exaggerated pout, "Con Con's gone gone." The silver-haired man glares at you, brewing up a comeback.

"It's here, Lieutenant!"

Of course.

The next 10 minutes consist of crew members hustling in and contemplating what to do with the assailant. You're long forgotten, wrists still enveloped in crisp metal. You watch the scene unfold, seeing a dark-skinned bot sulk past you, its 'hands' in the same situation as yours. You could cut yours off, knowing you have something in common with it.

As the posse mosey's on by, you burn holes into the side of your dad's head. Thouroughly enjoying the bird he sends your way. Then, due to the flow of movement, you catch...eyes with it. Your face scrunches up and you hold back every nerve sizzling to attack - you know your limits; especially with cuffs.

It holds eye contact with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. That is, until you see the corners of its mouth lift ever so fucking slightly. And just as you glance down to examine the expression, it's completely gone before your eyes. Was...was that a fucking smile? This collection of plastic and wires has the fucking nerve to fucking smile at you?

Oh, you've just dug your own grave, Siri.

----

I think I’ll definitely start chapter two.

#connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit connor #dbh x reader #detroit become human #detroit connor x reader #connor #rk800 #dbh connor #hank anderson #hank x connor #hank’s daughter #bryan dechart

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cassatine · 5 years ago

Text

TROS rambles under cut. Spoilers ahead.

There’s a lot I didn’t particularly like in TROS, but I expected that, so I’m mostly disappointed by the execution. It feels extremely messy, stuffed full of things supposed to please the audience but without that much thought given to the overall effect or the underlying message.

It’s small things like a cute new droid whose function in the narrative is to deliver one hint for the high-stakes treasure hunt, and also be cute and sell merch. At least the droid has a function; I’m still wondering why the giant slug on the Falcon at the beginning of the movie. Isn’t the cast big enough. Aren’t there enough new characters as is. Did we need the slug. I’m aware it sounds like nitpicking, it’s just that I feel it’s representative of the film making unnecessary detours for cool factor while moving at breakneck speed, which makes the whole story suffer.

But there’s other, bigger things. Leia’s training, her having a saber, even if she put it down – it was such a big deal that Luke was the Last Jedi, the only one who could train Rey, and although we’ve seen Leia use the Force, there was absolutely nothing in the previous two movies to let us think she’d trained under Luke. I feel the main reason Leia has a saber is simply the need to replace the one yeeted by Ben so that he’d have a weapon in the final fight, and having another family saber handed to Rey was yet another way to confirm Rey as the chosen heir of the Jedi and the Skywalkers, something TROS really tried to hammer in imo; Leia’s saber and training, the pep talk with Force Ghost Luke (who doesn’t have anything to say to his nephew), everything about how the Jedi live in her in the final fight, plus the voices of Anakin, Obi-Wan, etc (who, like Luke, don’t have anything to say to Kylo/Ben), and the Force Ghosts of Luke and Leia appearing to her at the end. They didn’t do that when their nephew and son died. I don’t really mind that Rey takes the Skywalker name, because I’m not big on the blood lineage fixation to start with, and the film doesn’t make her reasons explicit so I can find a way to make it work for me, but it’s the culmination of the pattern framing her as the one heir.

Even her ending up in Luke’s childhood home fits within it, but I have other issues with her ending up alone on Tatooine; mainly what the fuck am I supposed to do with it? Like if there was something about how she was, idk, starting a Jedi school AT LEAST that’d make sense for the story I think Abrams is trying to tell because right now… how are the Jedi not going to end if she’s basically in exile?? Wasn’t it such a big deal to see the Jedi continue? How did we end up pretty much back to square one, with the last of the Jedi self-exiled on an out-of-the-way planet for not-so-clear reasons? For that matter, how is Rey choosing exile in the grand tradition of Jedi who failed – Obi-Wan, Yoda, and later Luke – supposed to be read? We’re given no insight in what goes on in her head after Exegol; her reaction to Ben’s death I’m 100% certain is meant to be heartbreaking, and it’s filmed that way. But after that she’s just… it’s not clear *what* she is, because there’s some happiness on her part, yes, but it’s part of the over-the-top ROTJ-like happiness expressed by all the Resistance peeps at the end, like they’re all so glad the Empire, First and Final Order are gone that they’re high on it. But as far as characterization goes it’s hard to say whether Rey’s going through the motions, if she’s sad but content that at least Ben turned or smthg, or if she’s totally fine and dandy. There’s nothing about why she choses to go to Tatooine, why she chooses to use the Skywalker name, why she buries the sabers, or how the fuck she feels about anything. I don’t think everything in an ending needs to be made explicit and explained in details, but it all kinda feels like a cop-out.

Speaking of cop-outs, I could mention The Pit, but also... I know a lot of people wanted Finn to have the Force; I’ve always been on the fence, because I feared his having the Force would end up being the reason he defected, and I didn’t want that decision to boil down to the magic force field told him so. Well, he had A Feeling, which implies he’s Force sensitive at least? Him and a whole other bunch of ex-troopers? I don’t know what to make of this. I mean, sure, the FO indoctrinates kids, but apparently once the Force gives them A Feeling they just break out of it? But also, how much does the Force meddles in events, because it kind of feels like those Feelings are moving people to where they need to be for Plot to happen (Leia’s saber premonition doesn’t really help the thus it was written vibe).

Neither Finn nor Poe had any personal arc to speak of; they don’t grow or learn or do shit beyond being Rey’s sidekicks on her speedrun to the big boss (literally it’s a treasure hunt to open the final dungeon and beat the big boss; that’s it that the plot). They do Cool Action Stuff, and once Leia dies become Generals in her stead, which has about zero impact on anything. Poe’s revealed to be a spice smuggler because I guess a real Star Wars trio™ needs an ex-spice smuggler, just like a real Star WarsTM needs training scenes and a family reveal and a planet-destroying weapon (not spherical this time woohoo) and some Palpatine sprinkled on top. The trio’s interactions were… Idk what’s going on there. Sure there’s lots of banter and one-liners, but it left me with the impression that the film tried to have something for every ship (minus, very glaringly, Finnrose) – Finn seems to be trying to declare something to Rey, which seems to piss off Poe, but it’s hard to say if it’s because Poe’s into Rey as well, or into Finn, who also seems to be into Poe, but less than into Rey. And then there’s almost no interaction between Finn and Rose, who’s side-lined for the whole fucking movie, but there’s Jannah, who has either shippy or sibling vibes with Finn, I have no idea honestly, and Zorii, because I guess every ex-spice smuggler needs a Leia analogue.

Speaking of Leia, I have more to be displeased about – her death was fucking underwhelming, and not given much impact. Having Kylo/Ben haunted by Han (Ghost? Memory? Hallucination?), while not something I dislike in itself – Han had his big moment in TFA, and here he completely overshadows Leia’s. She doesn’t even get to have actual dialogue with Kylo/Ben, and the yeeting his saber should have happened after Leia reached him imo; switching that would have given a lot more impact to her death. The dialogue with Han doesn’t even need to change, but if Leia had contacted Kylo/Ben after the “I know what I have to do” repeat, it’d have been a more effective scene (and again, Han already had his big moment in TFA). The aftermath wasn’t particularly well-done either; characters are sad she died, of course, but it’s like perfunctory five minutes sadness and then she’s barely mentioned again, and her body just lies there in the background of some scenes while people talk.

I’m running out of steam, so in conclusion –

TROS I think mostly fails because it takes no risks; it’s trying to have something in it for everyone, and goes about it messily, without that much care for the big picture, which is how it ends pretending to have a happy end when we’ve just seen the final act of three generations of Skywalker tragedy. It doesn’t commit to anything, excepted leaving room for fun trio adventures sequels, because if there’s one thing we know, it’s that self-exiled Jedi are always found by some bright-eyed tentative student, if not a call for help from old friends.

#star wars #rise of skywalker #spoilers #meta #i have more when that comes from but i think i need to to parse it out #i don't really feel like being fair right now so this is pretty negative

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mysweetestcreature · 6 years ago

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Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 3: Bloom

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Monday, September 22, 2008

Monday morning comes quicker than expected, but for Y/n, it couldn’t have come soon enough. All weekend the only thing she could think about was how Harry had been so close –– literally so close –– to kissing her in her living room. How she pretended to be calm in front of her family all weekend utterly baffles her.

The last time she’d had a crush so tremendous had been in the summer after sixth grade when her mom had signed them up for a mother-daughter cooking class, and one of the mom’s had brought her son by mistake. He was a year older and could make the most delicious Pad Thai in all of Central Jersey. Even then, however; she had never felt all these butterflies in her tummy that would consistently flutter about when Harry just so much as looked at her.

She arrives on campus a little earlier than usual, probably because she’d woken up so excited to get ready for the day. Her dad had been terribly confused to find her sitting on the countertop, all dressed and ready to be dropped off on his way to work (she’d even packed him his favorite lunch as a bribe).

As of now, it’s just her and the breeze that gently lifts the strands of her relaxed hair. The school looks so pretty at this hour, with the birds chirping happily in their nests, and the cute little woodland creatures that are usually hidden away in the bushes, roaming freely across the lawn. Only a few other students join her at this hour, but they’re all stowed away in the building, taking this breathtaking scene for granted. She breathes it all in and allows for her head to fall against the bench’s backrest.

“Hey.” The sudden hum of his deep voice startles her, and her head snaps up to find him standing right in front of her and looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of some teen magazine that she skims through while in line at Shop Rite.

“Hi,” she tries her best, but she can’t help the wide smile that dresses over her features. She signals down to the empty spot beside her. He gladly accepts it, dropping his bookbag on the grass and plopping down next to her. Her thumbs fiddle with each other in her lap, as she sucks on her top front teeth before speaking up again. “How was your weekend?”

“It was fine,” he answers simply.

“Do anything fun?”

“Eh.”

The words bounce around in her mouth with the undeniable need to talk about last Friday. But he’s being far too detached in his manner of speaking, that she wonders how she’ll ever go about starting up such an important –– yes, she’s labelling it as a top priority –– conversation. She supposes that it is the beginning of the week, and maybe now that she’s had a better look at him he does appear a tad tired, judging from the bags under his eyelids and the way he suppresses a long yawn into his sleeve. Still, though! How is she going to accumulate confidence when he’s barely alive enough to respond?

He turns to look at her. “Yours?”

She stares intently at him. “Terrible! So stupidly terrible! It was so damn hard because all I could think about was how you almost kissed me but didn’t because my little brother interrupted us and totally hogged your attention for the rest of the afternoon! And now all I want to do is talk about it because I may or may not like you as more than a friend! AGH!” It’s what she’s dying to tell him, but rather she blinks her eyes before letting her head falter in defeat.

“It was fine.”

***

“He did what!?” Maxxie nearly falls over in his seat at the reception of the news.

“Will you hush up!” Y/n shushes, smacking him in the face with her three-subject Biology notebook (she thought it’d be more impactful than a flimsy folder). “Besides, nothing happened.” And yet she so badly wishes that weren’t the case because at least it wouldn’t have trapped her in such a spot of complete unknowing.

“It’s true,” Cici inserts, leaning in from the adjacent side of the lab table. “She told me when she picked me up after I climbed out the window at Café Agira.”

Maxxie stares at Cici with the most baffled expression. “You-... You know what? I’m not even gonna ask,” he talks at her before turning back to Y/n. “You on the other hand, I am very interested in learning about this thing between you and our local Brit.”

She sighs, dropping her cheek in her palm and tracing nonsensical images onto the surface of the table with her pointer. “I was gonna talk to him about it before homeroom, but I don’t know...he seemed really out of it.” Her eyes shut with grievance. “What if he regrets it? Is that why he’s being all distant?” After all, she’d been a bit emotional, and he’d been there to comfort her. It’s a scene out of over a dozen films.

Both her friends give each other a knowing look before hopping their stools closer to the middle. Cici envelops her in a tight hug. “You, my friend, need to be more confident,” she says softly, playing with the ends of hair. “Tell her what you know, Max.”

Y/n glances at the blonde as he leans in to join the huddle. “Okay, so I heard from Evan, who heard from Jake, who heard from Kara, who heard from Lori, who heard from Bailey, who heard from Rishav, who heard from his sister Aavani, who is dating Angelo, who heard from Mike, who heard from Trish, who heard from Brent, who is on the football team with Harry...” He pauses, gasping for air after such a difficult and trying verbal marathon. “...and he heard Harry going on about how he’s really into this girl he’s friends with.”

They’d expected this to lift her spirits up, but instead she lets out another dismal sigh. “Harry’s friends with a lot of girls. Remember last week when those girls from his English class made him sit with them? He could be talking about anyone.”

Cici glares over her head, nostrils flaring angrily for Maxxie to fix this slump of a mood their best friend is trapped in.

***

The next time Harry sees her is in History class, and he’d spent all of US Politics trying to formulate cohesive thoughts that he hoped would process into audible words. This morning had been a bit off for him, he realized that as soon as they had parted ways towards their respective homerooms. He hadn’t meant to be so standoffish, but he had an extra early practice and by the time he saw her, he was already thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up somewhere and take a long nap.

Now he’s had time to rejuvenate and collect himself into something he’ll actually be able to present to her. Hopefully she doesn’t think any less of him, or change her opinion based on one measly fail of an encounter. He remains positive because he’s really been meaning to talk to her about a couple days ago, how he had come within centimeters of pressing his lips to hers because he really couldn’t hold back any longer. She’s just so cute and sweet and funny, and overall he just loves being around her. And okay, he’d meant to text or call her to say just that, but couldn’t figure out how to organize his scattered brain into something relatively sensible. He won’t deny that she has this power over him that he can’t quite describe, let alone express through his seemingly fading vernacular.

She walks in, making sure to greet Mr. Noone with a smile and a bag full of another delicious dessert. He tries to listen in as she makes conversation, which soon turns into her hounding the elderly man for yet another one of her Tupperware containers. “I’m pretty sure you have five now! At least give me three of those back. Dad had nowhere to put our leftovers last night!” he hears her whine. The way she pouts her lips and huffs as she stomps away is undeniably one of the cutest things she does –– he thinks so, at least.

When she’s within close proximity, he sits up straight in his chair and pushes back his mop of brown curls away from his eyes. “About this morning,” he starts slowly, finding his rhythm with his tongue. “I was so drained from practice and literally I thought I was gonna pass out...”

“It’s fine, no big deal,” she says curtly, setting her stuff down and taking her seat without so much as peeking an eye his way.

His mouth curls to the side. He’s by no means an expert on women, but if living his whole life with his mum and sister had taught him anything, he’d have to be completely daft to actually believe that she’s completely dandy. “No, it’s not. You’re mad at me.” He places his arm around her chair and shifts closer. “I’m sorry..” he pouts, the side hand brushing slightly over her back where he knows she’s ticklish, but she doesn’t even flinch. “C’mon, at least look at me. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

She keeps her eyes set on her lap. “Harry, I said-” But she stops when the shadow of a figure looms over their table, and they both peer up hesitantly to meet Mr. Noone towering above them.

“If you two could postpone this lovers quarrel until after my class, that’d be most appreciated.”

***

After class, Harry follows their history teacher’s advice, and chases after Y/n as she squeezes her way through the pile of students to escape. She takes solace, however, in the knowledge that she can hide away in the library or the Home Ec. Room for the next fifty-five minutes and won’t have to talk to him until lunch time. And yet, she groans inwardly when she hears her name being echoed in the crowded corridor, accompanied by his hasty footsteps that as the push off the floor with each brisk stride.

“Y/n!” he wheezes, finally catching up to her. She gives in, feeling a slight pang of guilt (emphasis on slight) run through her, and pivots on her heel. “Christ, you walk fast.” He hoists himself up, using his knees as support as he takes in a few deep breaths through his nostrils.

“Don’t you have class?” she tuts, crossing her arms and stomping the toe of her shoe in utter annoyance.

“Not until you accept my apology.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “And I keep telling you that everything is fine! So, please get your butt up to Debate or else you’ll be marked as tardy and I don’t want you to be late because of me.”

A smirk finds its way to his lips. “At least I know you care,” he cheeks, nudging her gently with his elbow. He can see how she fights off a grin as she turns her head as afar as it can go. No matter how hard she tries to hide it, he still manages to bring it out of her. “There it is!”

“I just don’t want that on my conscience,” she snoots, but she knows how unconvincing this whole charade is. He slings an arm around her before she can even come up with another thing to say as if it was the most natural thing. She looks at where his veiny hand comes through the other side, poking through the slope of her neck and lazily hanging off her shoulder. “Um, hello?” she gawks, but instead of answering, he leads her down the hall and towards the tunnel to the next the building. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“You’re gonna teach me how to bake!”

“But what about-”

He cuts her off with two fingers pressed to her lips, simply shaking his head as he holds the door open. What’s more annoying is that she likes how this feel, and how oddly organic it is for their footsteps to sync up like a well-oiled machine. And please, someone stop her from wanting to stay like this for longer or thinking about how cold she’ll be once this protective belt disappears.

***

Saturday, September 27, 2008

It’s been a little over a week since Harry had come over to study, and in that week, they still haven’t opened up on the subject. And to be quite frank, it’s been driving Y/n absolutely bonkers! She still doesn’t know where this puts them, or whether she’s looking too far into the situation and she should save herself the embarrassment and forget anything had ever happened.

Right now, it’s about ten in the morning, and Y/n is still lying in bed trying to figure out these pesky feelings. On a typical Saturday morning she would have already whipped up some breakfast for her family, but now she can barely focus on anything but checking if he’s sent her a new text.

A knock on the door brings her out of it, and she answers back in an aloof tone. “Come in.” Her eyes lazily flick over in its direction as the hinges begin to squeak. When the person pokes his head in, the look on his face is already too much for her handle in this state. She pulls the covers over her head to hide herself.

“Hi, Dad! Good Morning, Dad! How’re you doing today, Dad?” he mocks, striding further into the room. “I bet that’s what other parents get.” She feels the bed dip in by her feet. “Alright, kid. Time to join us in the world of the living.” Very slowly does she feel her blanket being stripped away, until the light from her suddenly exposed window burns brightly on her pupils. “Or else your mom is going to have to come up here, and she’s a lot stronger than I am.”

“Dad, please,” she whines, and battles him out in a game of tug-of-war for her sheets. “I’m having a crisis here!”

“You’re fourteen,” he deadpans. No one could have ever prepared him for the task of having to raise a teenager, he lets his wife know that every morning when he wakes up. In fact, he calls the theme of their little morning chats “complaining rigorously about parenting” or C. R. A. P. as he so fondly refers to it as. Liv isn’t too keen on the acronym, and she lets him know that every single time.

“You’re a boy, right?” she suddenly asks, and she sits up and hugs her knees tightly to her chest.

Jeremy scoffs loudly. “Who’s to say?” But his daughter stares at him with an unwavering seriousness that he swears she must get from her mother because he can barely intimidate his son into taking a bath. Curse Olivia’s prominent genes! “Okay, fine. Yes. Happy?”

“Very,” she smirks, inching closer, but her demeanor soon switches to a less playful glow. “How do you know if a boy likes you? Like really likes you.” She rests the side of her face on her bended knees and closes her eyes.

“I don’t think I understand the question.”

“Of course, you don’t, honey.”

Olivia waltzes in with a basket of freshly washed and folded clothes balanced on her hip and a warm bagel in the other hand. “You can leave now. I got this,” she tells her husband, shooing him out the door.

“Oh, thank god!” he sighs out in relief and runs out the room, but not without giving his wife a tender kiss on the cheek and a wishful “good luck!”

That leaves both women to sort it all out on their own. Olivia sets everything down before taking Jeremy’s place on the bed. She breathes in deeply and exhales with a warm smile.

“So, who’re we talking about?”

“Remember that boy who came over last week?”

It takes a good minute for Olivia to track back to such a long time ago (this last week had been so busy at the clinic so she tends to let other irrelevant details slip her mind), before nodding her head when she finally remembers. “You mean Harry, right? He was such a sweet boy, and so good with Mason, too!” she gushes, clapping her hands as she recalls the kind British boy. Y/n gives her a look, and she soon realizes what this is all about. “Oh, my baby.” And she brings her daughter in for a big hug.

“I don’t know what to do,” Y/n mutters into her shirt. “Every time I think I’m going to tell him, I end up chickening out. I hate it!” All the pent-up frustration that had been building up for exactly a week is now coming into light. “Mom, I really like him, like really like Harry. And I don’t know what I’m going to do because he’s all I can think about and it’s literally making me lose my mind!”

“Why is that?” Olivia asks, stroking over the length of her hair.

“Because...” Y/n starts, taking a pause. “Because he tried to kiss me, but it didn’t happen, and we haven’t talked about it since. And now I’m scared that it was just an ‘in the moment’ thing and he probably doesn’t feel the same way and I’m getting my hopes up over absolutely nothing.”

Liv takes Y/n by the shoulders to face her directly. “First of all, breathe.” She guides her through some breathing exercises to get her elevated heart rate back to normal. “Second...but what if he does feel the same way? Isn’t knowing for sure better than not taking a chance at all?”

***

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Harry is just about done and ready to head out when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Hi, Harry!” Zoey greets cheerfully, twirling her skirt as she twists her hips.

“Hey,” he nods as he stuffs his copy of The Scarlet Letter in his bag. He looks left and right to find that it’s only them two left in the hall. It didn’t even occur to him how late he’d stayed back to talk to Miss Arelleno about an upcoming book report because he wanted to make sure that his choice of literature would be appropriate to present on. (Luckily, it was! And he had already managed to outline all the key points he was going to accentuate on.)

“I was actually hoping I’d find you here,” she admits, leaning against his locker door.

“Yeah?” Harry replies, but honestly, he’s barely paying attention because for some reason he can’t seem to find his house keys in his pockets. If he doesn’t find them, he’s absolutely fucked because Gemma doesn’t get home until tonight and Anne is out of town on business. “Sorry, I’m...” Aha! He’d forgotten that he’d placed them –– along with his phone –– in his cardigan pocket before football practice. “What were you saying?” He’s much more attentive this time around.

She steps closer to him. “I was wondering if you wanted to check out this new diner with me? It’s called Ruben’s and I heard their milkshakes are supposed to be amazing! Plus...” she starts, looking up at him through her long lashes. “The big game is tomorrow and I thought I could help you relax.”

“Um...” Harry purses his lips together. “I’m actually going there with Y/n,” he says with a faint blush. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

A tight smile replaces the flirtatious one she’d been sporting this whole time. She backs away, placing her hands firmly on her hips with displeasure. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she grits out.

He stares down at his watch, his eyes growing wide when he realizes he’s already two minutes late. “Oh, okay” he loosely responds. “Hey, I have to get going, but I’ll see you around.” And he starts jogging down the corridor towards the library where he and Y/n had agreed to meet.

***

Friday, October 3, 2008

The game against Pleasant Valley has finally arrived. The entire school must be in attendance, as the screams and chants coming from outside are almost deafening. Harry sits on the bench in the locker room as he makes sure his cleats are tied nice and tight. To say he’s nervous may be an understatement. If his time at Ashwood has taught him anything, it’s that they really, really hate Pleasant Valley with a passion to burn a million candles. Just the other day, Coach Davis had given him a very thorough history lesson about the ongoing feud, ending it by begging him to lead them to a victory or else their pride as a school would cease to exist. No pressure, right?

“Styles!” He turns around to see Coach Davis standing right behind him with his arms crossed and face as serious as can be. “You have a visitor outside,” he says, signaling towards the door.

“Who?” he asks thoughtfully.

“Heck if I know. Some cheerleader.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and a relieved grin washes over his features. He ignores the cackles from his teammates, including teasing about him getting a pre-game reward in an empty classroom. The coach looks at him pointedly, as to say he better make this meeting quick or there would certainly be hell to pay. Harry gulps, slowly slipping off the bench before making a break for the exit.

When he pushes his way out, there she is standing in midst of the trophy case lighting. He takes a moment to appreciate how angelic she is with her hair pulled back in a braid, and how completely and utterly adorable she looks with the double-knit crossover jacket that embodies her upper frame. She glimpses up, and immediately he feels all the tenseness in his body wash away because she really might be his all-in-one remedy for just about anything. And fuck, he really wishes he could tell her that and all else that’s been simmering inside of him.

“Hey there, Mr. Quarterback.”

“Come to wish me luck?”

She cocks her head to the side and simpers at him. “Something like that.”

Harry laughs, his shoulders jittering underneath all the padding. Then he takes the first step forward. “Well I’m happy you’re here,” he says. He moves another inch towards her. Reaching out, he grazes the top of her forearm with the pads of his fingers, letting his hand drop down its length until it dares to engulf the back of her open fist. A blush creeps up his neck, and he’s thankful that the hallway is dimly lit this time of night, or else she’d see how completely swept he is just by holding her.

And yet, he’s not the only one. Her mind has to remind her heart how to function, but the way he’s looking at her leaves everything a haze. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she confesses, suddenly remembering why it is she’s here. His digits fill the spaces between hers as his thumb encouragingly rubs over the back of hand. It’s pleasantly warm and soft, and she wouldn’t mind if they were to stand there into next week. He prods her to continue, the side of his mouth tugging up and his dimple carving in so exquisitely. She inhales deeply through her nose.

“Harry, I-”

“Styles!”

She bites on her bottom lip when Coach Davis appears at the door with his whistle held between his gritted teeth. In no way does he look amused by the fact that one of his key players isn’t inside prepping with the rest of the team.

“I’ll be there in a sec, Coach,” Harry yells over his shoulder. He rolls his eyes when he turns back to her. “Sorry, he’s just going through it right now,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “What were you saying?” He squeezes her hand.

“I, um...” She looks past him, and the burly individual still stands there so menacingly. He clears his voice and makes a show out of staring at the time on his watch. “You know what,” she gulps. “I’ll just tell you later.” She tries her best to hide her disappointment.

“You sure? I mean I have a few more minutes until-”

“Styles!”

Who knew one man could be so impatient? (Oh, wait...) Y/n nods robotically. “I’m sure.” So much for that.

A smile suddenly creeps back to her face when a thought lights up in her head. “Here,” she starts, but he begins to frown when she pulls her hand from his grasp. However, his mouth soon becomes a barren stage when she sets both her palms upon his chest, using him as a pillar to lift herself up onto her toes. Without warning, her lips press gently to his cheek. They’re soft and plushy, and everything he imagined they’d be. If he couldn’t feel Davis’ eyes burning holes in the back of his head, he’d be sure this was all a dream. “Win this one for me, and I’ll tell you.” And with that, she falls back flat on her feet, letting her arms fall from his body as she backs away.

It takes everything in him to resist the urge to follow her. As soon as her figure disappears into the dark of the hallway, he allows himself to be dragged back into the locker room, his limbs feeling like complete jelly.

***

“Where’ve you been?” Cici asks her when she joins the rest of the cheerleaders on the field. She had excused herself to use the restroom over fifteen minutes ago, and now here she is looking as though she’d won a grand raffle.

Y/n doesn’t answer, however; she fails miserably to hide even an ounce of her excitement. Despite still not having told him, she hopes that the kiss to cheek will give him even just the slightest hint about her feelings for him. In that moment, she had felt courageous, and now that exuberance is still bursting within her. She sits down and starts with some simple hamstring stretches, while the corners of her mouth still remain turned up.

“Oh my god, did you finally tell him?” Cici screams. “What did he say? Holy crap!”

“I wasn’t able to, no,” Y/n hums.

“Then why do you look so happy?”

Before she can answer, another voice beats her to it. “Yeah, Y/n. Why so happy?” Zoey pushes past a some of the cheerleaders, each sway of her hips greatly emphasized as she walks. “Excited to see Harry lead the team to victory?” she taunts. “Doesn’t he just look amazing in his uniform? Like literally so hot.” She lifts her curled hair away from her neck, and exaggerates as she fans herself. The two minions behind her begin to snigger.

Cici resists the urge to smack her in the face, just looking at her makes the blood in her veins boil violently.

Although, Y/n remains close-lipped and shrugs without interest at the girl because at this point, she isn’t worth wasting a breath on. She continues with her warmup, not even bothering to look up. Cici smirks on her behalf, waving her hand to send her away. “Why don’t you crawl back to whatever toxic pit you came from, hm?” she mocks. “Buh-bye, now!” Zoey rolls her eyes, snapping her fingers in the air signaling for her two shadows to retreat. “I swear to God, I could honestly strangle her,” Cici exasperates, falling to the ground to joining her.

“Don’t worry about her too much, she just wants attention.” Not even Zoey can ruin her mood tonight.

A few minutes later, their coach is having them get in position to start their routine for when the football team runs out onto the field.

***

“With only ten seconds left on the clock, the Ashwood Eagles need one last touchdown to beat the Pleasant Valley Lions.”

There are only nine yards separating them and a claimed victory.

Ashwood takes their last timeout of the game, and the boys huddle to discuss this crucial next move. Everyone is exhausted, it’s evident by both the sweat on their faces and the way their movements aren’t as aggressive as they were in the beginning. But they can’t give up. With only one touchdown needed to guarantee a win, they need to tough it out for one final play.

“They’ve got me, and Adrian guarded,” one of the wide receivers, Brent tells them. “And with Clint out, we’re gonna need a new play.”

The captain, Connor, turns to Harry. “Styles, what do you think?” The rest of the team follows suite, and all eyes are on him.

Harry looks at each of their faces, his breathing becoming quicker and less calculated as he feels the pressure of the countdown begin to set in. A single touchdown is all that separates them from the quarterfinals, from bragging rights for beating their worst competitor, and finally...

On the sidelines, the cheerleaders cheer them on without falter, with intricate moves that display both agility and overall school spirit. But only one holds his attention. He smiles brightly when their eyes meet. Her lips wrap around words of encouragement. You can do it! And it’s accompanied by a kiss in the wind. With that, he can feel power begin to sting in his fingertips and that last push to get his head back in the game. After this is all over, nothing is going to stop him from getting to her.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do.”

***

The crowd becomes silent once time-in is called.

At the nine-yard line, Harry shout the play to his teammates, patting his own helmet to finish it off. He prepares himself for when the center snaps the ball back.

“HIKE!”

The sight of time depleting becomes harder to watch. Richardson snaps the football between his legs, and Harry catches it with ease. The Lions rush towards them, clashing with their defensive line in an almost violent opposition. All hope fades with each one of the receivers being heavily blocked from range. Coach Davis screams at the top of his lungs, calling for Harry to do something as the final five seconds dwindle down.

Like slow motion, Harry dashes down the remaining length of the field. The cold October air hitting his cheeks as he runs as fast as his legs can afford. All the shouting coming from around him fades from his ears. He dodges those who rush towards him, leaping over a defensive tackle like his life depends on it.

“THAT’S A TOUCHDOWN FOR ASHWOOD!”

Harry throws the football to the ground. He screams in triumph, tearing the helmet away from his head and letting the breeze brush away the beads of sweat as they fall from the tips of his tussled hair. The team comes at him like a stampede, each member holding the same charged enthusiasm as his own.

At this moment, he feels invincible. The adrenaline still flowing vigorously through his veins as he basks in this victory. Everyone runs onto the field, all the coaches, benched players, and all else present on the sidelines.

***

Y/n tries to squeeze her way through a sea of excitable fans to get to him.

This is it. He had won the game just as she had asked of him. Now she’s left with no choice but to finally confess all that she’s been wanting to say. Everything she feels and all that’s been winding her head are finally going to be put out in the open, just as her mom had advised her when they had their heart-to-heart. And for once, she isn’t nervous that she’ll panic or recoil because she’s positive that these feelings are real, that he’s real, and what they have has the potential to become something wonderful. There’s absolutely no reason for her to believe otherwise. It all excites her to the very core, and the closer she gets to reaching him, the more she feels these tingling nerves come alive.

“Harry!” she shouts for him as loudly as she can but even then, she’s still too far for him to hear her. To make things more difficult, two football players nearly sandwich her when they come together to bump shoulders with such alarming force. She pushes her way through the pair, her breath catching in her throat when she sees the back of his jersey.

When she gets within a closer radius, he finally hears her voice call his name. A smile that reaches his eyes dawns upon him when he turns around and sees her standing just a short distance away. She feels her heart race as she slows her pace to a steady walk.

Out of nowhere, a wave of auburn locks cuts in front of her in those last remaining steps. Y/n is brought to a sudden stop as she tries to avoid colliding with the her back. She leans to the side to see Harry staring at the girl with furrowed brows. A smirk comes from over the girl’s shoulder before she turns to come face to face with the quarterback.

Zoey takes either side of Harry’s face in her hands and pulls him down, and their lips meet halfway.

And Y/n’s beating heart stops. ***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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serpentscribe · 4 years ago

Text

Removing Labels

Zen is the concept of experiencing the truth, the absolute reality in every single moment.

This means coming back to the “is-ness” of reality, or simply being present with what is.

In order to come back to what is, one must remove that which is not.

Falsehood, the diluted truth, subjective truth, half-truths, and the like are the veils which suppress the absolute truth.

To remove the dilutions of truth, one must return to the purity of it. In order to experience this, one must return to the purity of themselves.

In order to experience the purity of oneself, one must release their relative attachments. The planes of existence can be broken down to the spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical levels.

The emotional, mental, and physical attachments are those which keep one bound to the illusion. Emotional attachments hinder you from seeing clearly, your identification with your own thoughts hinders you from seeing the truth of what is, and being attached to your physical reality keeps you locked down in the material plane- keeping you from ascending to higher planes of consciousness.

In order to transcend these attachments, come back to your purity on the spiritual plane; your divine essence. If you can observe your body, thoughts, and emotions then you are not them: you are pure consciousness; a soul.

When you come back to this core essence, the ultimate truth of reality unfolds. When you come back to the truth of yourself, you become the truth. When you become the truth, you no longer have to look anywhere for it: you are it.

In this pure divine essence of yourself, you are no longer stuck in thinking. Your identification with thoughts is one of your biggest hindrances. Instead of being with the purity of what is, you identify with the labels that your thoughts put on reality.

“Good” and “bad” are common labels most identify with. Good being everything you love, bad being everything you hate. But these are mere polarities, black and white, night and day- two sides of the same coin.

There is nothing that is “good” or “bad”- as these are mere labels that you define your reality with which have no basis in truth. When you come back to that place of soul, that purity of yourself- there is no “good” or “bad”- there just is.

Good and bad, pretty and ugly, love and hate- it’s all just your monkey mind that might as well be scratching its ass saying “oooh-oooh-aaah-aaah.” When you come to the purity of what is, these labels don’t hold up as you transcend all illusion, perception, and subjectivity.

The fourth hermetic principle in the hermetic philosophy is that of polarity; that is “everything is dual, everything has two poles, everything has its pair of opposites.”

This concept of polarity is an inevitable “law of the land” in the universe within which you exist. There are night and day, sun and moon, hot and cold, black and white, joy and pain- all symbolizing the inescapable, universal law of polarity.

The whole “Yin and Yang” concept conveys that one cannot exist without the other; though the two are opposites, they are complementary.

If this world is governed by the law of polarity, understanding both polarities is the only way to understand not only half- but the full truth of what is.

Due to the labels most put on the yin, or the dark- they are not able to fully understand it. They see this polarity and automatically label it as “bad,” “ugly” or “evil.”

Whether it be labeling ‘the devil’ evil, or labeling your own suppressed trauma ugly- when you label something, you are automatically dismissing it.

There is no longer room to understand something when it has already been boxed into a label. Your mind has already defined what it is, so to you- there is no need to explore it further.

Because you have already labeled and identified with the thinking apparatus as to what you believe a certain energy to be, you cannot understand the purity of that energy for you are not in the purity of your own true essence.

It is only through removing your projected labels that you may understand the purity of what is- of truth.

In order to transcend the law of polarity and live above it, per se, one must counterbalance the law. To counterbalance the law of polarity, which is simply extremes of opposing degrees and everything in between, one must neutralize themselves.

Say the law of polarity manifests as mood swings: you are extremely joyful one moment and crying the next. This is you simply experiencing the two polarities of your emotions. In order to transcend this swing of rhythm from polarity to polarity, one must neutralize themselves emotionally.

Once you stop reacting to your emotions and observe them with an objective view, you neutralize yourself. You are no longer reacting to your sadness or your joy; you are simply neutral, watching the tides of your emotions rise and fall as they inevitably do.

In order to get past law, you must counterbalance the law. The law does not have power over you as you have an objective perspective on it rather than being subjectively swung from polarity to polarity.

The mastery of neutralization is becoming the player of your game of life rather than being moved like a pawn. True power is being unmoved by forces outside of yourself.

You are only subject to the universal laws when they rule over you. When you understand and internalize the laws, you become them.

So in the conversation of polarity, should you become the law of polarity, you may harness its power and utilize it rather than being subject to it. You now experience law objectively.

One may only become the law of polarity if they venture through both the darkness and the light- understanding the purity of all energies within oneself so that they may become and therefore utilize them.

In order for one to get to the point where they are comfortable exploring both the darkness and the light, they must first initiate themselves through the law of neutralization.

By neutralizing yourself and removing your labels on these said polarities, you are able to explore them with an objective perspective. You are simply the observer, neutral to what it is that you discover.

Neutrality is a prerequisite to self-discovery.

All knowledge is knowledge of self, so the best way to explore and become the law of polarity is to explore the poles within oneself. One should explore their so-called darkness and light from an objective perspective, free from labels.

“Oh that childhood trauma is so ugly, I don’t want to look at it.”

“The way my friends treat me is rude, but I’ll just look past it to avoid conflict.”

“I had a weird thought about someone, but I’ll just act like it never happened.”

“I had a really weird dream, but I’ll just pretend I didn’t. Besides, it was just a dream.”

Yes, because it’s not like your childhood trauma manifests in your everyday life or anything.

It’s not like your weird thoughts are actually parts of yourself needing to be healed.

It’s not like your dreams are your subconscious mind communicating to you.

No- let’s just suppress, suppress, suppress; because all that dark, weird shit is too terrifying to look at. Let’s just bury it way deep within the subconscious mind and act like it never happened.

This is the common perspective of a pawn, subject to the law of polarity. The dark is bad, the light is good. Anything labeled bad gets stored away into the darkness, and anything labeled good gets blasted through the megaphone.

We see this with social media- everyone posting the best moments of their lives, making it seem like it’s all fine and dandy. They’re just living a perfect life.

Yet, they cheat on their partner regularly. They abuse their dog. They have a fetish for toenails. These are just examples of how whacked out humanity gets, and these too are the things you will never see on their social media accounts.

All the repressed trauma, all the shit you’ve hidden from people, all the weird thoughts you regularly have- these are all building up tension within the subconscious mind. Until the darkness you are suppressing is acknowledged, its presence will linger like a shadow, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You have pushed your shadow away, not realizing that your darkness is inevitable. It is one and the same with your light, merely the opposite polarity representing a contrast. Without the exploration of the shadow, it grows angrier as it is continually suffocated by your escapism.

Whether it is doing drugs, “fucking bitches,” scrolling social media, binge watching netflix, staying glued to the news, watching youtube- all these forms of escapism simply circle you round and round to be in this constant swing from polarity to polarity.

You are a mere pawn being moved by the laws rather than being brave enough to neutralize yourself and explore your polarities. You must gain mastery over the laws if you want any control over your life- lest you be moved like a puppet on a string. Once you know yourself, you are the puppetmaster.

Through removing the labels that you have put on certain parts of yourself, you may open yourself up to explore and therefore heal them.

You don’t have to live every day with crazy thoughts, weird dreams, odd interactions, awkward feelings, and no control over your life. Through exploring the depths of your subconscious mind, the darkness within you, you are able to transmute it. The first step is to remove your labels and acknowledge your reality.

All knowledge is knowledge of self, so one is able to deeper understand those around them if they understand themselves deeply.

Similarly, when one is identified with labels, they not only label parts of themselves- but they label others just the same. To truly be with others one must remove the labels they project onto the world around them.

Not only will removing labels help you know yourself, it will also help you deepen your relationship with those around you as you have the openness to be with them, and experience them fully.

The Tantrics teach that the microcosm (individual) parallels everything in the macrocosm (the universe). The Tantric principles confirm that everything which exists in the universe exists also in the individual body.

With this being said- the study of one individual (microcosm) is a study of the whole universe (macrocosm).

All knowledge is knowledge of self. Through gaining mastery over the whole of oneself, one gains mastery over the greater whole as a byproduct.

Microcosm and macrocosm are not separate. Through discovering the truth of oneself, one discovers the absolute truth.

Through removing labels and exploring the depths of oneself, one discovers the truth. Explore all parts of you without hesitation. Know thyself, for even in the deepest depths of your darkness, it is still only you.

Your greatest enemy is yourself. Face that enemy head on so that you may gain knowledge of self.

Through knowledge of self comes the realization of ultimate truth.

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