#and with situational i mean casual conversation with real life people (mostly of my age). doctors

[videoworm]

Hot tip:

If mental illness doesn't get treated properly / don't improve and festers for years it can turn into a personality disorder. Or any kind of trauma disorder. Or whatever. Point is it festers.

[emilycollins00]

if you are taking rquests, could you do some headcannons about a reader who also has an intimidating look, and is insecure about it, with taichi and juza? if you do, thank you vv much!! 🥺

Sorry I took so long, dear! Thank you for taking the time to request it. Really hope you like it! 💕

Taichi and Juza x Intimidating! Insecure! reader

Taichi

We all know how much trouble Taichi always had with fitting until Mankai. 

He sometimes sees how you have difficulty in school socializing with others.

He doesn’t get it at first? He has only seen you from afar but he thinks you are cool??

Hears comments about your intimidating aspect. Still doesn’t get it.

Decides to invite you to have lunch with Tenma, Juza and himself.

You are unsure but end up going.

Becomes a routine? They accept you and that’s all you needed

Taichi’s heart goes full doki doki when he sees you happier about yourself

Taichi had noticed it before, but now he could confirm that whenever he was doing P.E outside, he saw you staying away from others. That day your class was doing football and you were put as the goalkeeper. So far, no one had gotten close to it.

“Nanao, can’t find the baseball?”

Taichi turned to his own classmate “Ah, sorry!” his class was in the middle of a match and he had gone to retrieve it.

“Y/N, uh” the same classmates followed his line of sight “They have quite the glare.”

Taichi tilted his head. What glare? He just thought it was weird seeing you alone in a class like P.E. He had always thought you looked cool when he passed you by the hallways though, so mysterious and all, maybe he could attract girls if he did that!

More classmates arrived, thinking the ball was lost too, ending making comments with you as the main subject.

“Ah, that’s the famous Y/N from B class, right?”

“No wonder no one’s trying to score..”

Taichi looked around, still confused “Famous? Did they do something?”

“Most likely…? I don’t know though”

“I mean, it’s not like they have weird rumors like that Hyodo guy but… they make me feel uncomfortable”

Without thinking twice, that very same day, Taichi found himself in front of you during lunch break.

“Do you need anything?”

“H-hi! Sorry uh…” he played with his hands. You were frowning so much it looked like Sakyo when he lectured him for doing something wrong. Suddenly the idea of coming right up at you didn’t seem as good. Mostly because he didn’t want to be a bother.

Maybe you preferred to be alone?

He looked at you again beginning to apologize and leave when he noticed it. Yes, you were frowning and sure, it must have looked scary from the outside… but you had been waiting patiently for him to speak. Taichi swallowed down his nerves.

“Well, uh, I hope it’s not weird b-but…! I saw you in P.E and you looked really cool! Wait no, that’s uh…!” he notices your frown increased. Ugh, why was he stuttering so much? “So, uh, d-do you want you to have lunch outside!?”

Even though the boy had shouted the invitation so much your own classmates had turned, you still couldn’t believe your ears.

“Aren’t you… afraid of me?” the questions came out without you wanting to. You saw him closing and opening his mouth, trembling.

“S-SHOULD I?”

Lifting your head scandalized at him, you moved your hands frantically “NO! No, no! I don’t-!” you put both of your hands on your lap, trying to calm down “I, um, don’t get many invitations, so I got... surprised”

You were sure you were blushing hard form the embarrassment.

“Oh!” Taichi smiled at you, now breathing relieved. Then everything was okay in his book! He really wanted to get to know you better now “Then want to come? I’m sure everyone will be happy too!”

“I…”

Everyone?

                                           .........……………………..

“Ey, guys! Brought someone to have lunch with us, this is Y/N!”

Tenma and Juza stopped talking as they both processed what he had just said, directing then their gazes at you. You didn’t move. 

“Uh… hi” the summer troupe leader waved, a bit uncomfortable seeing you not responding. Juza simply nodded.

You were a mess, feeling your eyebrows frowning as you always did when you got nervous. This could not get worse. He was friends with THE Sumeragi Tenma and THE Hyodo Juza??

“Come Y/N, it’s okay!” he smiled at you warmly, sitting with them and looking at you to copy him and sit as well.

Tenma was confused. He didn’t expect Taichi to bring people to their lunch breaks. However, if Taichi had brought you, it should mean something.

He tried to casually make up small talk “…You are in class B, right?”

You nodded in silence as you sat close to the redhead. How did he know? What were you supposed to say? You noticed a glare coming towards you. Juza Hyodo. You tried to avoid him when something on his lap caught your attention too. You both stood in silence.

“Uh, guys…?” Taichi didn’t really understand what was happening. He looked at Tenma to get help but he also looked like he was at a loss. The autumn member suddenly gasped, you two weren’t enemies or anything right?!

“…those rolled omelettes look good”

Oh. You looked down your lunchbox “I… was going to say the same thing about your melon bread”

Tenma and Taichi sighed together

“You two scared the life out of me!” Tenma scolded you two as he leaned on the tree, closing his eyes.

Taichi put his hand on his chest. Looks like you both were just interested in food. He looked more carefully at your lunch “Juza-san’s right! That looks really good! You made them, Y/N?”

“Y-yeah, I like cooking so…”

“That’s so cool! I sometimes cook too!”

He smiled at you and your heart leaped. That had been one of the first times in a while someone smiled so big at you instead of diverting their eyes.

“Wait, didn’t Tsuzuru have to help you make rice because it took you an hour last time?”

“Ten-chan, you are not supposed to say those things!”

Somehow, the conversation kept going, as well as the days you decided to spend lunch break together. You were speechless at how natural it felt to spend time with Taichi and the others, how it felt like something had been lifted from your chest.

You should have imagined, being yourself the focus of many, but they weren’t like those rumors you heard. Tenma was cooler and Juza kinder than you had expected. None of those boys tried to mind their words around you either or looked intimidated but your looks. They joked around and messed with each other.

You felt yourself enjoying school life for once.

“YOU MADE THIS Y/N?!”

“Should I not have??” you looked worried at the lunch you had brought. You had told them you would bring lunch that day, right?

“I-It’s just looks too good!!” Taichi’s eyes were practically sparkling. He looked at you again “Are you sure?!”

Not being able to hold back, a burst of laughter came out of you, watching him being so melodramatic. Taichi had become a pillar in your daily life and you couldn’t be happier nowadays “Of course I want all of you to try it!”

Juza was about to start eating when he noticed Taichi holding his breath “…Y’ok?”

The redhead turned to him, eyes wide open “Wh-what?! Of course! I…” he couldn’t stop looking at you. Your smile laughing just then had been the most real and most bright thing he had ever seen.

“You look like you are going to pass out”

“They are right Taichi, you are red” you frowned confused.

“Pl-please ignore it!!”

-

Juza

Now it gets more serious

He doesn’t know you personally? But sees you around Veludo Station 

If there’s someone who also knows what it feels like to feel insecure about oneself, it’s this boy

You are nice, so it makes him angry when he sees you dejected

He would usually stay quiet but can’t help wanting to help you feel better about yourself

Just like Mankai helped him

Might ask for help at the dorm?

He listens to you

None of the Mankai students from Ouka public high school took the train to get to school, but they pretty much had to pass in front of the station to get there so Juza already recognized you the first time you two crossed paths that day.

“Shit”

“I’m so sorry, Juza-san! I swear I thought I had put it in my bag last night!”

They were sprinting at full force. They had had to go back to the dorm to get Taichi’s project and Tenma had gone on a shot earlier in the morning, so it wasn’t like they could even ask Igawa to take them with the car.

“Now you don’t look so arrogant, uh?”

Juza stopped on his tracks when he heard the yelling from not so far away and then noticed you. Call it instinct from all of his fights, but he could tell what type the situation was going on.

“Do I have something on my face?”

You gripped the trip of your school bag, trying to calm down. Those two men reeked alcohol. “No, I was just-“

“Then why do you keep glaring at me like that, uh?”

“I was just trying to help the old lady there with her train tickets. It’s almost time and you two were-“

You were in the middle of what looked like a discussion against two adults who had now started raising their voices and moving their hands aggresively around you. People watched from the distance and whispered, but no one seemed to try and stop it.

“You know them, Juza-san?” Taichi approached the boy worried.

The answer was no. He had never talked to you.

It didn’t matter.

“Get goin’… I’ll catch up”

You looked around getting worried. No one seemed to care that two old men were raising their voices at you in the middle of the street. You felt desperate. Was it because of your so-called intimidating looks? Again? You mentally cursed as you tried to push them out of the way “Ok, just let me go and-“

One of them pushed you back “You tryin’ somethin’ now?”

The anger mixed with fear. You decided to start shouting when a boy your age grabbed them by the shoulders and dragged them far from you.

“Got a problem, old men?”

You blinked, not comprehending the current situation. Was he helping you? He also looked like he was up to no good, his voice a mere growl and menacing stare. However, it was directed to them.

“Get out of the way, doesn’t matter to you”

“How ‘bout you two do it before”

Was there going to be a fight? The two men must have noticed it too because they grew quiet, grumbling and looking at each other.

“Relax man… let’s not get nervous”

“Then get the hell out of here”

“Fuck’s up with people’s faces man? Everyone looking damn scary and shit…” both left the station as Juza turned to you. You looked tired.

“… y’ok?”

You jumped when he directed his attention to you “It’s… okay” a small sigh came out of your lips, but you smiled grateful “I’m used to it. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t feel bothered by it by now”

Juza frowned confused. The times he had seen you around you were always helping someone or humming to yourself. You shouldn’t be used to those reactions “What did…” he saw you looking at the ground, a complex expression going on your face that he couldn’t understand “…What did they want from you?”

You shrugged “I... accidentally bumped into them when I was helping an old lady. Apologized but started making a scene when they had a look at my face”

Something in those sentences felt too familiar “…because you look angry” he couldn’t help how it came more as a statement than a question.

You felt the comment going straight through you.

“I… am scary looking. It happens. I try not to stand out but …” you gestured vaguely at the crowd that was already leaving after the scene had been solved “Anyway, I need to go to school. Thanks again”

Juza watched your back as you left to enter inside the station, a knot forming in his guts.

                                      ............................................

“Everything okay, Juza-kun?”

The purple-haired boy looked up, leaving aside his thoughts “’night, director”

“I saw you a bit disconnected from practice today” Izumi sat next to him in the garden of the dorm. It was a peaceful night. Some crickets sounded in the distance and most people in the dorm were already in their rooms sleeping.

He thought again about you. He had been going around what he could do. But what? He was just a stranger.

“There’s… this person” Juza mused, unsure. He hadn’t even asked for your name “I see them and uh, know they’re a good person but… they said they look intimidatin’ and, dunno, reminded me of my old days”

He scratched his head. It was confusing him why he felt like this. Izumi smiled and leaned against the bench they were sitting.

“So you are saying they are insecure about their looks” Juza nodded and she sighed “…It’s a tough thing, being in peace with oneself. Especially if you get used to receiving a specific type of response from others”

“I don’t know what to tell’em”

Izumi hummed looking at the night sky “Maybe you shouldn’t try forcing anything. Just being there to support them if something happens and listen to their thoughts can be a good start, I think”

Juza frowned. Would it be that easy? “Think’so?

She smiled, turning back to him “That’s what we did with you, right?”

                                  .........................................................

The next day he spotted you, you were looking around with a girl crying next to you.

You had found her alone. Thinking she must have been lost, you crouched down to calm her. The moment she looked at you though, she ran away.

“No, wait!” you ran behind her “You’re going to-!”

The kid fell to the ground, looking around bawling. You raised her unaware of a certain autumn member following you “Shhh… it’s okay” you wiggled her. It wasn’t a success.

“Maika!!”

A man came running to you out of breath and you handed the girl to him “Hi, you should be careful, she was-“

You stopped when you saw the look the father gave you as he hugged her. Was… he scared? Did he believe you had tried something?

“They helped. You should be thankful” you heard Juza’s voice from behind.

“Y-you’re right, I’m sorry” the father bowed nervously and held his daughter.

You didn’t respond as they left.

You looked up at the sky. It was stupid. The girl was safe and you should be happy, not feeling like you were about to cry.

“…I’m sorry,” you whispered. Juza held his breath until you looked back into his gold orbs, sadness swirling “Do you have a minute…? I just…”

Without saying a word, you both walked to the nearest bench and you sat in trance.

As soon as you locked eyes with him, again. Seeing another pair of daunting but soft eyes, similar to what you wished you had, something in your crumbled.

You started talking. Juza heeded about how tired you were, how you had always struggled to be comfortable with your looks, insecure of your intimidating eyes, of the whispers that followed wherever you went, even when you tried your best to do the opposite.

He didn’t say anything, allowing you to release that emotional vent, even if his first instincts were to deny your mean comments. Minutes later, you had finally calmed down.

“I don’t get why you are so kind to me” your hands were now wrapped around the can Juza brought to you at one point.

He pressed his lips.

“…If I told you, I would probably scare you away”

“Please” you scoffed, scrubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears that had started coming out before. Was he kidding? He had been the highlight of the last few days “You could never scare me”

Juza raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear you sounding so confident. His heart felt lighter “Well, neither could you”

You looked at each other in silence before you offered a small, thankful smile.

“I’m Y/N”

“…Juza Hyodo”

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟒)

part three

note - i wanna thank everyone for reading once again! i'm currently in the process of writing imagines, those will be posted throughout the week, i don't want to clog up my blog bc i want y'all to see this chapter!

this one switches pov a lil more frequently, so bear with me <3 also not as smutty as other chapters, this is more of an emotionally-charged chapter!!! still a teensy bit smutty thooo. i want to make it clear that while this fic is definitely rooted in smut & sex & sex work, it is not porn without plot & will not ONLY be smut as i put effort and time into plot development / character development! i'm sure y'all know that tho. there will be conflict, there will be plot!!! i feel like that's clear already but there's discourse on smut happening rn and i wanna voice myself! omg anyways luv y'all enjoy the reaaad <3

new taglist!

playlist

word count - 8.3k

warnings - age gap, sex work, smut, vibrator, ANGSTYYY like hella dramatic, dirty talk

That slight shift that you and Steve both felt, that happiness that you realized came from talking to one another, only lasted so long... for you. You could hardly sit in your feelings about your situation with Steve before another thing that occupied all your time came crashing down upon you. Except this time, the thing brought you no such happiness or curiosity.

    You had spent almost your entire senior year working on a special lab project about drought tolerant plants in Southern California where you lived and went to school, and your professor was making completing your project incredibly hard for you. And you felt incredibly stressed out about the entire situation - not only was the project necessary to graduate, but it was your heart and soul for the past year. Now, your professor was basically saying it was "ineligible."

     "Ineligible?" Aaliyah repeated after you, after you told her what your professor had said.

     "Whatever the hell that means," you huffed as you power walked down the street, hand in hand with Aaliyah, your free hand holding a coffee.

     "That's so fucking annoying, holy shit," Aaliyah pressed a hand to her forehead. "He had the whole year to talk to you about changing your topic and...”

     "And he never did," you sighed, frowning. You settled down onto a bench where the two of you sat next to each other, staring out into the busy streets and sipping your iced coffees.

California was a beautiful place, and you were a native, you'd lived there all your life. You knew the ins and outs of your city, knew Southern California like it was your backbone. And you loved it here - loved the sun, the beaches, the way the people were either shady in the best way or incredibly friendly. You'd never really known any other place like you knew this place. You were just glad that if you had to be stressed, you could do so in California.

Aaliyah pouted, feeling for you. She placed her hand on your knee to be comforting,

     "Babe..."

     "It's okay," you sighed. You sucked it up, like always, because you had learned how to fend for yourself ever since you realized that depending on others could only lead to downfall. You would figure this out the same way you figured everything else out... on your own. You figured out your house on your own, your job, your finances.

     "Is it, though?" Aaliyah pursed her lips and squinted at you. Despite how much you tried to fend for yourself, Aaliyah was always there for you. She was one of your biggest supporters.

     "I'll just keep visiting during his office hours and work this out."

Aaliyah rolled her eyes,

     "Men are so annoying, girl. You know what, he probably wants to fuck you. With your fine ass. That's why he's doing all this."

You chuckled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, trilling back in response,

       "Okay girl, don't get too ahead of yourself."

       "I'm serious! Men are evil. Oh, except your fave."

You made a face, nearly choking on your iced coffee. This was news to you,

       "Who are we talking about?"

       "You know," Aaliyah sang slightly, nudging you and leaning against your shoulder. "Mr. Won't Show His Face."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but bit down on your straw with a knowing smile, eyes peeking out over the top of your shades. If you were being honest, this idea of Steve, whoever he really was, had been a fun thing to entertain during this period of stress. You'd been talking and engaging with him for two and a half weeks now, and the connection you two had was undeniable.

But you knew better - maybe he wasn't just another customer, because you could really talk to him and felt like he was real - then again, he was strictly a customer. You liked him, a lot, but you couldn't like him any more than you already did. That would be dangerous and silly, and create unrealistic expectations. It wasn't like you could go on dates or anything.

    Still, talking to him (and performing for him) did help to distract you from your stress, at least for a small amount of time. Steve was becoming less shy, less inhibited. He cracked jokes and was starting to keep up with your innate sense of sexuality, starting to navigate you, find you the way a bee might find its nectar, hidden deep inside the curvatures of a flower.

If you were a flower, you'd probably be a sunflower - bright, yellow, almost always in a positive mood, or at least trying to keep yourself in a positive mood. More than that though, sunflowers were tall and looming - you felt like that represented your put togetherness and how hard you worked, how smart you were. Only sometimes it was hard to keep yourself up and tall, but you always did it, time and time again.

But when it came to Aaliyah's comments about Steve, she mostly just made you laugh.

    "Haven't seen him yet, have you?" Aaliyah asked, raising her brows expectantly.

     "No. And I'm fine with that. He's simply another very loyal customer who I happen to like."

     "Hm," Aaliyah hummed, and you could tell her mind was up to something - some very wishful, and mischievous thinking.

     "What are you up to?" you narrowed your eyes at her and glared at her, and she just shook her head with a lazy smile,

     "Nothing. Just thinking that maybe it would be cool if he really was this really hot guy that you actually knew and he wasn't creepy and y'all... you know... started dating. Just to get your mind off a lot of crap. I know, I know, strictly against the rules, blah blah blah. No feelings for customers, it's basic shit. But in a perfect world..."

      "I know," you sighed without thinking, sipping at your drink.

     "You know?" Aaliyah questioned, surprised.

You shrugged,

     "So I've thought about it. Except, you know, in a perfect world, I'd meet a guy like Steve in like, a farmer's market or something. Not on my shady ass cam shows."

Aaliyah snorted laughing, and at the sound of her laughter, you joined in.

You continued,

     "I mean, not Steve exactly, because that would be weird. I just mean, a guy like Steve."

     "You mean a guy who makes you feel the same way he makes you feel," Aaliyah corrected you, and you glared at her again, pushing her gently.

     "Don't push it," you teased, but you meant it - you might have liked Steve, but that was all there was to it - you liked him, he was a distraction. And maybe even that was too much.

✺ ✺ ✺

As for Steve, he thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. He thought constantly about how you made him feel, how much he looked forward to talking to you. How everyday, his worry about your situation becoming more serious dissipated slowly. He could feel himself easing into you, everything that made up this character you created called Moonrose. Conversation seemed casual, like you knew each other in real life, it felt easy, and there was no pressure.

As for your connection, he had finally acknowledged that it was real, and more than either of you had wanted to realize at first. But now, there was no shame, no worry in acknowledging what the two of you had, because you were both smart enough to keep it at this level. It was like a shallow pool. There would be no drowning.

He mostly talked to Bucky about you when it came to the emotional aspect of it. He still feared that if he talked to Tony, it might come across as an issue, and might put a pause on what he had with you. But everyone noticed how different Steve was acting. Even without the phase he had gone through where he was sexually frustrated and angry, he still acted different.

Lighter on his feet, more smiley. And he was always on top of his work. You weren't distracting him from his duty, so that made the fact that he knew you had a unique connection with him more bearable. Because of you, he was learning to worry less. To have a little more fun.

    It was a bright day that week, the sun filtering in through the large windows of the meeting room where everyone was gathered. Steve was engaging in some mindless conversation with Sam and Bucky in which they were debating whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza.

     "No. I'm not sure why everyone keeps trying to put all these twists on pizza. It's pizza," Bucky scoffed, Sam rolling his eyes as a result.

    "You're just closed off. With your old ass," Sam retorted, and Steve made a face. Sam raised his hands up in surrender. "You know what I mean. What about you Steve?"

Honestly, Steve had never even tried pineapple on pizza and he didn't understand why there was such a big fuss about the banal question.

    "I don't really have an opinion," he shrugged, not expecting Sam and Bucky to start clamoring over him and trying to force him to pick a side.

    Before he even got to grasp the situation, he felt Natasha patting his shoulder,

"Hey, mind if I use your laptop? Mine's gone haywire, don't really feel like messing with it right now."

"Yeah," Steve agreed without a second thought, setting his laptop on the table and letting Natasha handle it- she was better with tech stuff than he ever was.

Natasha would use his laptop to showcase some data and start off their morning. It seemed innocent enough —a simple, barely impacting sacrifice. But Steve clearly hadn't thought everything through, because the moment Natasha logged in and hooked up Steve's computer to the holographic projector, more than just data appeared on the screen.

In fact, a whole array of women, all of them engaging in various sexual acts or preparing themselves to, showed up on the screen. And at the top, where the browser was, were the words "girlsonfilm.com."

Steve hadn't noticed all the clamor, too busy thinking (thoughts of you and thoughts of work), until Bucky called it to his attention.

"Steve," he nudged him frantically, his voice a loud whisper.

When Steve looked up at the screen, his face couldn't have gone any redder. He hadn't thought about this at all, and he had clearly forgotten to close out his browser. His heart sunk all the way to his stomach - because it wasn't just Natasha seeing this, it was everybody. And that included Tony, who was glaring pointedly at Steve from the head of the table. Meanwhile, all the others were too busy heckling Natasha and making brash comments about what was appearing onscreen. To Steve's relief, your face didn't show up, but this just might have been worse than only your screen appearing.

     "Woah, Nat, I didn't know you got down like that!" Sam hooted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Natasha, though she was in shock as well, rolled her eyes,

     "This is Steve's laptop."

Now a hush, then another clamor of confusion and heckling, all directed towards Steve. He couldn't recoil any more, feeling the pangs of embarrassment as his eyes flashed between every one of his teammates. He felt as if there were an asteroid approaching fast, and he was right where it would land, too slow to move out of its way.

     "Steve, what do you know about 'girls on film'?" Sam nearly cackled, reading the name of the site.

Steve sighed deeply, locking eyes with Natasha as he mouthed "turn it off" to her.

     "I am, I am," she ensured him, quickly disconnecting the laptop from the projection, unplugging completely.

A beat passed, everyone staring expectantly at Steve, who was staring down at the table, trying to process his own thoughts. Like for starters, why didn't he log out the last time, and why didn't he remember to log out? And then his mind went to deeper places. He hadn't been intentionally secretive with his actions, but he had been intentionally private. It had to do with his own growth, he was learning how to navigate a world that was new to him and somehow helping him at once. He didn't want to have to share this with everyone, it was nice having this to himself, he had no intentions of revealing what he had been doing in his past time that made him so happy.

One of the reasons he didn't want everyone to know about his situation was because he didn't want to have to be concerned with what everyone else might think. Because to begin with, being on a site for cam shows wasn't exactly everyone's idea of what Captain America might be up to these days.

It was a matter of his image, what values he was supposed to hold. This didn't exactly match, and Steve had just gotten over the idea that he was a bad, sneaky person because of what he chose to indulge in. At least here he knew it was ethical and not causing harm to you as a human being.

He also didn't want to have to deal with the insufferable questioning and teasing his team would put him through, or the judgment he thought they might put him through. He felt embarrassed, exposed, and like he had been ill prepared for a situation like this. He was just grateful they hadn't seen more, because that would've been a disaster. What they had seen was only at the surface level of what he'd been doing.

But his thinking was interrupted by Tony's voice, which broke through all the silence, and made Steve realize again the eyes that were on him.

     "Well, jig's up," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Care to explain?"

Steve locked eyes with Tony, as if hopeful that he wouldn't have to, but he knew it was best for him to just spit it out. Tony shrugged apologetically, and Steve took in a deep sigh, looking around at everyone at the table.

     "What was that?" Scott whimpered, probably the most distraught by what they had all seen.

Steve nodded solemnly and began to explain himself. He would tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to tell them everything. You would be left out of this, if anything. He'd just explain to them that sometimes, duty calls - and sometimes, it's not at all work-related.

✺ ✺ ✺

It was just hours before your cam show when another disaster struck, the first one being the fact that your professor was giving you shit about your project. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for your show, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup, laying out an outfit, doing all the things you did to feel pretty before a show.

    Your phone lay beside you on the bathroom table, pinging with messages every now and then. You ignored it, leaning closer into the mirror to get a look at your lipstick, dabbing your fingers into the pigment on your lips.

You smiled, feeling that gratifying sense of achievement. Despite what was going on with your professor, you felt like you were doing well in life. You usually had a positive mindset, enjoyed your work although you sometimes felt as if you were buried deep in all your occupations: student, office worker, cam girl, designer, young woman. Your life was never dull, and you wouldn't trade it for anything. Talking to Steve helped too, but it was more than that.

But that sense of satisfaction all seemed to dissolve when you looked down at your phone, and saw a text from an unsaved number, glaring bright on your glowing lock screen of you hiking with Aaliyah. Still, you recognized it immediately.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I miss you. Text me back.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve wasn't exactly keen on joining your live show today, but he did so anyway, because he still had time to himself despite the spiral of events that had happened earlier. There was nothing else to do, and he didn't want to miss out on you after attending almost all of your shows for the past almost three weeks. Didn't want to just leave unexpectedly.

It felt strange that he felt this tug of commitment, but he brushed it off. He was just fulfilling his needs, which should even be expected of him. He was stressed again, after being caught up like he was. And maybe that was all the more reason not to watch your show tonight, but he wouldn't devoid himself of the simple pleasures of life. He'd learned that lesson a while ago, from a special someone called Moonrose.

After everything transpired, he explained himself calmly to his team, slowly to ensure that they'd understand that this wasn't the beginning of a deviant phase, that he wasn't throwing away his work responsibilities to lurk on the NSFW side of the internet. Not that they ever thought that to begin with, they never questioned his abilities or his authority for a minute, not even in the midst of what they'd seen that had shocked them.

This was the product of Steve's own insecurities and his admittedly silly fear that he was somehow letting his team down. He told them that he was on the site, as recommended by Tony, to relieve some "frustration" that he felt he didn't have the time or the means to release in real life. He said that while it had helped him do that, he wasn't throwing away his responsibilities, nor was he dependent on the site or the things on it, or the people on it for that matter.

He knew that if they knew about you, all those private sessions, all those conversations you'd had, the connection you had built between the two of you, it might be a different story. But because they didn't, they appreciated his honesty. They were confused, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Steve would be into, and he ensured them that it was a shock to him as well.

But they didn't mind on the whole, it was just a shock to everyone at first. They didn't think it called for a meeting, thought it was almost humorous how serious Steve was being about such a trivial situation. Wanda had joked about how we've all been there, Thor denied ever having to do such a thing because: "I have all the romantic partners anyone could ask for. I could introduce you Steve, but these Asgardian women are fiery, far beyond anything I believe you could handle." In the end, Steve was relieved, felt like it didn't have the disastrous outcome he'd been expected.

But he could feel his guard slowly coming back up. That was a close call, and it was a little too close for comfort. He didn't want to disregard you, but he couldn't afford to sink further in, and get his team involved. He just didn't want to face the consequences he could imagine if they knew how much he decided to stick with you, how much you talked, how it was teetering off the range of normal customer to cam girl interaction.

It wasn't like he was careless when it came to his interactions with you, but he also didn't want his team to know about his business when it came to you. He didn't want them thinking he was engaging too much, didn't want it to get to the point where he was worrying again or felt like he needed to deny himself such wonderful feelings.

All these things were on his mind while he waited for your live show to start. When it did, and he saw your face, he felt a little bit alleviated. Just for now, he could have this fantasy to himself. If they knew about the site, so be it. At least he had you to himself.

      "Hey guys," you mustered a smile, waving to the camera.

Unbeknownst to your viewers, you had spent the past few hours off camera panicking, on the verge of tears, calling Aaliyah frantically so she could help calm you down. That text from that mysterious unknown number had been from your ex's number. The same ex who made you fall into dependency patterns that you worked so hard to get out of, the one who made you feel like you had to work for his love. Like it wasn't something you deserved, just like anyone else.

You had worked so hard to finally wring out all the effects of him, all the bad habits you had fallen into because of him. That was part of the reason why you worked so hard. Not because you were actively avoiding him specifically, but because you were actively bettering yourself. You weren't looking for a relationship. But you knew that if you were in one now, the same things would never happen to you.

When you got that text, it triggered a flood of memories. Feelings you had to work to suppress and actually get over for months so you wouldn't fall back into the same desperate, needy patterns when it came to your relationships with people. All over a simple text from someone you hadn't heard from in almost a year. It hurt you how easy it was to get you to crack, even if you didn't spill out all the way. But on top of the added stress because of school, you were damn close.

You would do the show tonight, anyway. It helped you to escape, although Moonrose was a part of you, it didn't one hundred translate into real life. So in a way, this helped you escape real life. Just for a while. Just like Steve.

You grinned when you saw concerned comments from your watchers:

johnGuy182

Are you okay, moonrose? You seem a little sad.

zenongirl

Girl r u ok? i missed seeing your face!!!

     "Guys, I'm okay," you grinned. And you actually felt better seeing comments from your supporters. It reminded you to cheer up - they were looking for a good show, not a sob story. You leaned back, revealing your stomach in the sheer, sparkly fringed bra you chose to wear (another piece you had designed by yourself). "It's been a looong day."

Steve watched silently, observing your behavior. He didn't notice drastic changes, but you did appear less chipper. Then again, he brushed it off. He didn't expect you to be smiley all the time, you were human too, and this was your work.

"But I'm okay," you reassured, giving that signature grin, genuine and charming and alluring. You were trying to gently distract yourself, get into your act. "I hope you're all just as lovely as I am. I have a special game for you today."

You directed your viewers to your spinning wheel, which you had been working on crafting that week for a game. You grinned as you spinned it. Each act on the wheel cost a certain amount of tokens, and by the end of the game you would garner a bunch of funds. The show went by relatively quickly as you played the game, eventually ending up completely naked.

As ordered by the spinning wheel, you were to use a vibrator. You held it against your clit at the highest setting as you watched the numbers of viewers and the tokens jump up, Steve watching as he stroked himself leisurely. Your legs shook as you restrained yourself from your orgasm so as to increase the length of your showtime, garner more coins to encourage you to come.

     "Mm," you moaned, massaging the vibrator against your clit, getting wetter and slicker by the minute, sliding the toy between your folds. You laughed, breathless. "Fuck, this thing is so powerful. Someone make me come, please make me come. Just a few more tokens for me to come for you."

Steve was hesitant, but he decided to go ahead and give you the amount of tokens you needed. And when you heard the chime of the tokens being added to your account, and saw the name it was attached to, it was like a blast of euphoria. When your legs started to shake, when you started to moan and your stomach started to rise up and down, it was genuine. It was like you were back in a private room with him, although you weren't.

Your orgasm was blood-curdling in the best way, and you felt like you were releasing part of the stress of the past day, the past week. It didn't get any realer than this, once again you felt like he was really there to satisfy you.

      "Oh!" you exclaimed, your mouth dropping open and your blood flowing, moaning. "Yes, Steve, I'm coming for you. Thank you for making me come, Steve!"

Steve had been stroking himself along with you as he watched, and only let himself come now that you had come, his cheeks heating up as he heard you moan his name, something he hadn't been expected. Something about you saying his name like that where everyone could hear, even though he enjoyed the intimacy of private rooms, felt victorious. It felt lewd, salacious, but he couldn't help but enjoy that aspect of it. He moaned through grit teeth while he came, stroking himself to completion.

You came down, thanking everyone for attending and ending the show. But it wasn't long after that you had requested Steve for a private chat. He accepted, because he had gotten used to you doing this a little more frequently. It didn't scare him any more, he just thought of it as making conversation, taking advantage of this connection you had with each other. So when you requested, who was he to say no.

When the chat log opened, you put on your best happy face for Steve, trying to conceal how fatigued this week, today in particular, had made you. But your tired, bleak voice gave it all away, buried deep beneath your smile,

    "Hey, Steve."

Steve was surprised at the sound of your voice. Again, while he understood that you wouldn't be a happy go lucky fairy like personality all the time, he wasn't expecting this. You were smiling, but the weariness in your eyes was hard to miss. And your voice, which usually told light hearted tales, sounded worn down as if from tragedy. He was concerned, his eyebrows furrowed gently,

     "Hi. How are you?"

     "I'm good!" you exclaimed, trying your hardest to really sound "good."

But you were just tired. Tired and sad, and scared - scared of what the future had to hold. You were already dealing with school stress, and the text from your ex-boyfriend was like a bad omen, an anxiety-provoking assurance that things actually would not get better and they would in fact get progressively worse. You weren't even sure why you thought you should be talking to Steve if you were tired and just wanted to sleep off the weight of the week. It would be a weekend tomorrow, and one of your very rare days off.

Maybe you figured that you wanted to talk to him despite your fatigue, because conversation with Steve was a nice distraction. You had let yourself forget that this was still your job, and that you were too tired for anything sexual — you knew he liked talking to you, but you hadn't put into consideration the fact that he might request a sexual act from you. You would be burnt out if he did. The fact that you didn't think about that should've been telling, but your brain was too scattered to think straight.

Anyway, Steve called your bluff, and laughed quietly, his voice inquiring and pressing,

      "How are you really?"

That was all it took to get a deep sigh to come from out of you, all it took to allow yourself to show your true feelings, at least the surface of them, what you felt comfortable showing a customer. You felt a sense of relief and gratefulness for Steve, like he was letting you breathe. And if anything, he especially wasn't enlisted to listen to your problems. But he wanted to, and for that you felt foolishly grateful.

    Steve noted the deep sigh that came from out of you, and he frowned slightly. He could tell you had been holding this in for a while, and some part of him felt remorse for the fact that even though you clearly weren't in the right mindset, you went on and did your show anyway. He felt some guilt for being a part of the reason why you did your show.

    You answered, allowing your voice to be as honest as possible.

    "Honestly?" you chuckled a little, albeit bitterly. "I don't know if you really want to hear me rant to you."

Steve shook his head.

    "Don't be silly," he grinned. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

You felt a warm rush in your chest from the reassurance, and the corner of your lip quirked up in a small smile, before you decided to dive in. You'd spare the emotional details, spare your private life. But it would be nice to talk to someone, just about the general things, right?

    "Well, it's been a pretty stressful week, honestly. I mean, school's been the main source of my stress. My professor's such an asshole, he's basically been telling me my entire senior project, which I need to complete to graduate, needs to be redone? And I can't even fathom how I would have enough time to do that with like, two and a half months left of my senior year. I mean, he said I can keep most details, but I'd have to rework it, whatever that means."

    You kept your emotions at bay, sighing in annoyance just at the story you told, because it really was irritating you. But then you felt deeper things, even more went into why you really were upset.

    Steve nodded, just listening. He was prepared to offer advice, but in your situation, he thought that maybe just letting you rant would be best.

    "That's gotta be annoying," he shook his head understandingly. "Whatever your project is, I'm sure it's wonderful. He shouldn't be forcing you to rework it or make any last minute changes."

    "I know!" you nearly jumped up, feeling amped up now. "And it's just so fucking annoying because I work so hard and I'm really passionate about this project and it just feels like..."

    It felt like you were about to overflow, like a pot of water that had been left on for too long. You were ranting almost uncontrollably now, maybe because of the fact that it was more than this that was tugging at you. Because you'd been carrying the weight of your life on your shoulders all the time, like Atlas carrying the sky, and it felt like that weight was finally starting to mean something.

    Steve could see you were unraveling and he let you, he let you take the time you needed to feel everything you had been holding. If your connection was strong, it was at its strongest here. Sure, you and Steve chatted about a little bit of everything, even had deeper conversations here and there as the weeks went by. But you had yet to genuinely complain to him, because every time you spoke with him, you were happy go lucky Moonrose, with nothing to complain about to begin with. But now, you needed a release by any means, and you were just glad Steve was there for you, even if he wasn't really there. How unlike you to unfold in front of strangers.

   Your breath stuttered as you took in a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down, only further driving yourself into your rambling. You felt yourself tear up, your voice becoming watery as you continued,

    "It just feels like all my work is turning to shit, and it's so fucking frustrating because I work so hard all the time, I do so much and I manage so much all the time."

     The "hard work" you were talking about wasn't just school and work-related, it pertained to your journey, and how hard you had worked to be a better person. To support yourself. The emotions pent up inside of you, they were more than just being upset over a school project. The idea of someone toxic trying to re-enter your life, someone who had forced you to rework the entirety of your life, made you feel like you were on the verge of crashing. You knew better, but you didn't want to return to those dark days, where the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was your relationship seemed so far away. It was why you were so weary of relationships today. It was crazy how one person could change your life so easily.

     Now you were crying, before you even noticed that you were crying. Tears just seemed to leak out of your eyes, sloshing wet and sudden against your cheeks and underneath your lashes. You wiped them away quickly with the back of your hand, frazzled at the fact that you were crying in front of a customer right now. Steve said he'd listen to you, he didn't say he'd watch you cry and be your therapist. You instantly regretted it, although you couldn't stop yourself, tears threatening to emerge again. If you were cracked before, you were spilling now.

    Steve was surprised too, at the fact that you were crying. You appeared so put together to him, it was almost something he didn't expect from you. He was in shock at first, so much so that professionalism was not on his mind - it was an afterthought. Right now, instead of wondering if this was appropriate, he was occupied with you.

    "I'm sorry," you murmured, but you still hadn't stopped, tears falling out as you blinked. Composure was nothing now, you were sobbing, your shoulders slumped and your head hung as you sniffled. Still you enforced control, wiping away every tear that fell with the back of your hand. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to cry to you over this, that's so-"

Steve cut you off, shaking his head slowly,

    "It's okay to cry, doll. We all have those days. I know better than anyone that we all have those days."

    You mustered a smile, feeling cared for, feeling accounted for by someone who wasn't even obligated to have to see you like this. Still you shook your head, sniffling,

    "I know. But it's-it's stupid, I shouldn't be crying in front of you."

    "I'm not judging you," Steve said, so nonchalantly and firmly, so genuine that it almost scared you.

You blinked. He should've cared, and he should've judged you. To cry in front of Steve, a customer, was to imply he had some duty to comfort you when he probably just wanted a show. You knew that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but even you had rules when it came to what your customers got to see, and to you, that meant they didn't have to deal with your blues.

     "Really?"

     "Really," he reassured you with a nod.

    Was Steve scared that by giving you this reassurance, this entire situation could become deeper than either of you could handle? Yes. But did he let himself shut down because of those pervasive thoughts that he might get himself into trouble? No. He didn't see you as a liability right now. Right now, even though the situation was certainly questionable (and this was something he had no doubt about. When emotions get into the mix, things could get tricky- he knew this), he saw you as someone who desperately needed someone to talk to. Maybe it wasn't smart of you to make him that someone, but regardless, he was, and who was Steve Rogers not to listen to a person in need?

    You blinked away the last of your tears and swallowed hard. You were making this choice consciously, to tell Steve what had really gotten you to your breaking point. And maybe telling him meant you had trust in him, maybe too much trust for someone who, while great, was still a customer. But you felt like there was nothing you could lose from telling him. Maybe you'd even feel better after the fact.

    You looked down, picking at the body glitter on your arm that you had applied before the show. Your voice was considerably quieter now perhaps because you were looking back on the moment with a clear mind for the first time since it happened. You hadn't been thinking straight ever since you received the text just hours ago. Now your brain was a little quieter with the help of your tears and Steve's reassurance.

       "I think that the stress of this school project is making me resent how hard I work for everything, just to be met with this kind of result, you know? And it's even worse when... things seem to be going backwards. You know, like when you make so much progress, moving on from things that don't serve you, and you've finally done it and you get to flourish in it and then, it just gets taken away from you. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but that's just how this feels."

     Steve nodded, his jaw ticking as he let your words settle in. Somehow, although your situation was so different from his, he felt like your words perfectly described how he felt with the world sometimes. It was even part of the reason he'd held off on talking to you like this, held off on getting too involved. He too had made so much progress in this world, which took so much getting adjusted to in a way that absolutely nobody else could relate to.

    It was a world that he didn't even know, a world that he had never been properly introduced to. He'd had to fend for himself. He did his healing on his own, just like you had. And yet sometimes it felt like he had no control, like the universe was going the opposite way of all his plans. Then he felt stupid for even having plans to begin with, because in life, making plans was like comedy for the gods.

    There was a weird feeling in his chest and stomach, like he'd been stabbed with a gutting realization, and the knife was just turning inside of him, churning his insides. He began to feel a sense of unease, because this deep conversation was beginning to feel incredibly personal. Even though you were talking about your own situation, he couldn't help but think about how much he resonated, and the fact that he felt like he could relate to you on such a deep level scared him. This was more than the conversations you'd had before, more than the simple similarities you and Steve shared. This felt like a conversation that might be too telling for his good and your own.

     He swallowed his words as he listened to you continue. You chose your words carefully, but you had shed yourself of your inhibitions when it came to being truthful.

     "Earlier... I heard from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. And it kind of pushed me over the edge," out of your mouth stumbled a laugh. You were calmer now, and looked up at the camera, Steve swallowing hard when you did so. It was all so real, just like it was when you touched yourself and moaned Steve's name. "I think it just made me feel all those things I just explained. Because I feel like I worked so hard to rid myself of this person and them trying to come back just feels like all the things I worked so hard on are going to unravel. Even though I know they aren't, it feels like a setback. And that was like, the icing on the cake to this already terrible day, I guess."

      You let out a breathy laugh and smiled gently, shaking your head slowly.

     "I normally wouldn't be telling this to a customer. But here we are. Again, I'm sorry... I feel like I shouldn't have said anything? Should I... have said anything?"

In the brief silence that followed your question,  both you and Steve were thinking the same thing - were you going to regret this? Intimacy both physically and emotionally was good when you capped it at what you both knew to be appropriate. When it came to the physical aspects, you each let your fantasies unwind.

    And on the emotional aspect, though you had both grown closer and more open, some things just didn't get touched upon. But now you had just cried over the screen, and spoke from the depths of your heart. It was scary to open up in such an uncertain situation where your own privacy was an aspect that got involved. There was no doubt that it was too much. It was just a question of whether the result would be negative.

     Steve sighed deeply, a crease forming in his forehead as he furrowed his brows together, folding his arms over his chest.

     "I don't know..." he trailed off, took a breath, a leap, his body practically lurching forward. "But... it can't be a bad thing that you feel comfortable talking to me about this, can it?"

      And there it was, that glint of hope he was trying his hardest to conceal. That feeling he got when he got off that call with you, the one where you both started giving into those unspoken thoughts. That this couldn't be so bad, that you could enjoy each other's company without worrying.  

     You smiled gently,

    "I guess. It does feel weird though, it's not something I normally do. It feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

    You could hear Steve breathing in deeply, and for a moment, you imagined what he might look like, envisioning the outline of a troubled face, eyebrows knit together. You snapped back to reality and made a face, confused by your abrupt thoughts. You had long gotten over the very brief desire to see Steve's face- why was it coming back again?

    "I'll be honest, same here," Steve agreed with your sentiments.

    "Do you always feel like you have to restrain what you say when you talk to people? Or is it just with me?" you added that last part in a quiet voice, biting your lip.

Steve chuckled briefly,

      "Are you asking me if I have trust issues? Because I'd tell you, but I'd have to trust you to do that."

You shook your head and laughed at Steve's stupid joke, and shrugged.

     "I could say the same thing, I think. This person I heard from earlier is... I developed those trust issues because of them. Or, my already existent trust issues became worse. But what's funny about it is that this person was once someone that I loved," even as the words were coming out you questioned why you were letting them, why you were allowing yourself to be so truthful in a situation like this at a time when you were so vulnerable.

      Steve didn't reply, again feeling that sick feeling in his stomach that stemmed from his fear. The fear that this conversation were too serious, fear surrounding the fact that he was able to relate so much to such a personal situation of yours.

    You spoke again, daring to ask the question that felt like a final blow to Steve's stomach,

    "Have you ever been in love, Steve?"

Now Steve knew he was in uncharted territory. Not because he feared you might try to exploit him, but because he was so struck by the fact that he had allowed himself to feel so safe with you and get so close to you. He was surprised at himself for letting you feel safe enough to have these kinds of conversations with him. It all felt like a mistake now. He wanted a way out, any way out. He knew if he even attempted to answer that question, he would be making a big mistake. He had shared some of his most intimate moments with you, but always keeping in mind a very sharp line he didn't want to be crossed.

And in his mind, he thought of the one love he'd had, the one love that hadn't been fulfilled because of the situation he had been thrown into, one he had never signed up for. He thought of how the things he cared most for in life had been discarded, how, like you, he felt like it had gone to shit. How sometimes, though he tried his best to be grateful and had taken that journey of self-healing just like you, it all felt like some sick joke.

Could he even call it love? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to answer at all, because he wouldn't be talking to you again. There would be no chance for this dilemma to resurface, not with you, not on this site. He made the decision with haste and a heavy heart - he was done here.

      The discomfort was well evident in his voice, answering loud and clear, though his voice was morose and a bit closed off. You sensed the shift immediately.

     "I... I can't talk about that right now. Listen, I have to go."

    You felt a pang in your chest at the sudden switch in his demeanor, straightening up and trying not to frown. All this time you had been letting the words spill out, telling yourself not to worry so much, reassuring yourself it was okay to make your feelings known. Now it felt like you should've never said anything at all. You started to stammer.

      "Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just... I feel like I got a little overwhelmed." You laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Steve felt his throat ran dry as he blinked, feeling emotions come up to surface that he wasn't quite familiar with. Maybe he was grieving in advance, regretting the decision he was making to no longer speak with you, regretting the fact that he was letting fear get in the way of what he wanted so badly to be a good thing.

    "No, I'm sorry. I feel like I let things go too far," Steve apologized, but the apology felt more like an insult.

Was he implying that whatever this was, you couldn't handle it, and that it was his fault for somehow leading you on? You had both made the connection with each other, it was an equal effort. And why was he acting like the two of you communicating at all was somehow below him, somehow a risk? If anything, you were the one risking it just by talking to him the way you did. You were opening up to him. 

     You almost felt betrayed - you had convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to listen to your problems and you told yourself it wasn't his responsibility to listen. And then he listened anyway, told you that he wanted to hear it, and you cried to him. You felt like you had made so many unusual accommodations just for him to scare off like this. He was just another person you had expressed your feelings to, only to regret it in the end.

    "Too far?" you questioned, furrowing your brows.

Steve swallowed. In your voice he could hear a hint of frustration, but even worse- hurt. It pained him more than he cared for you to know.

    "I don't think we should talk anymore," he said instead.

    "What?" you were taken by surprise. "Steve, I'm... I'm not understanding. I... I don't usually open up to people like this, I mean, I thought maybe it was fine here, because I feel like I know you. But you're still a stranger. I understand you're a customer but I thought we were talking, I thought we broke through that wall-"

    "We did. And we shouldn't have," Steve said, his voice so calm and firm that it was almost cold.

    By now you were just staring into the computer camera, as if you were looking at him and waiting for him to come to his senses. But as you did that, you slowly came to your own. Because you weren't looking at him. You were looking at a black screen with his voice behind it. You realized you hadn't known Steve, not enough to talk about these things. And just like him, you too were full of regret. You kept all those walls up for the sake of customer relations, only to put them down and be met with this disastrous result.

    Steve almost couldn't bare to look at your face anymore. You were confused, hurt. He could tell you regretted the fact that you had opened up. He was hurt too, but he wouldn't show it, or let it overcome him to the point where your methods of communication with each other became something neither of you could control. Still, yes, he was hurt.

    But he had been through plenty of hardships in life. What was one more, even if it shouldn't have come to this point anyway?

    "I'm sorry, Moonrose. We can't. Goodbye."

Chat over.

[mycptsdrecovery]

TW for abuse, mental health crisis, unreality, mental hospital mention

hi im a 19 year old and still living with my parents. ive been trying to move out since august and i planned to move out by december. in late december i was not having much luck with housing and i started having memories of not so great things my parents did to me throughout the years play in my head. i rly have no idea how to explain this confusing clusterfuck of a situation in just a tumblr ask but basically i want to know if the things my parents did count as sexual abuse.

from a young age my parents didnt respect my boundaries. my parents often touched my butt (it sounds so stupid calling it that idk what else to put) in seemingly nonsexual or accidental ways, but they didnt stop as i grew older. i remember the first time that i realised i was being sexually abused (thats how i thought about it at the time, idk). i dont remember what my dad did specifically but i was 8 years old-ish, i started puberty around then because my body hates me. it was probably to do with my butt/waist/ things and my dad touching them. we were about to go in a shuttle to the airport, it was like 2am. i remember i stayed silent through whatever happened but at some point during or after i remember bursting into tears and like... thinking to myself that my dad is sexually abusing me (i dont remember where i learnt what that is) and my dad asking me what was wrong but i refused to talk because i was scared. moments like these where my dad touched me in a way that didnt feel normal and i burst into tears happened multiple times. ive felt very uncomfortable around my dad for most of my life at this point. hes the kind of dad who doesnt talk about anything hes thinking or feeling, doesnt talk much at all or have many friends. we have rarely had conversations past surface level talk thats appropriate for strangers or acquaintances so i have never known whats in his head and whenever ive tried to get him to talk with me about something serious he shuts down and leaves. hes very neglectful emotionally, though he used to sometimes fulfil his emotional duties as a parent when i was a very young child according to my mum but he stopped at some point. for a really long time ive been afraid that my dad was sexualising me in his head or sexually attracted to me. ive grown up having nightmares about my parents raping me.

here are some of the things i remember my parents doing. some memories are not easily accessable and some have not been processed as an adult.

TW

-both my parent regularly touched my butt in a variety of contexts. i never confronted my dad about it because i knew he wouldnt answer me. i have learned to only hug my parents in a specific way so that my arm is always under their arms so i can stop them from putting their hands too low.

-my dad used to put his hand on my waist and hips/lower back. he was basically doing the kind of casual touch that you would do with someone ur in a sexual relationship with. he doesnt anymore because i have stopped allowing him to spend much time with me.

-my parents, mostly my mum have touched my breasts very lightly and casually. it could be seen as accidental but my mum has never responded to my frequent requests to stop touching me like this.

-my mum showed me her vagina once as... sex ed? i have no idea if this is normal which is kinda how i feel about most of the ?sexually? themed things my parents have done.

-my mum has always commented on my body in ways that made me very uncomfortable, such as often commenting on how i would be sexually harassed because of the outfit im wearing, even the necklace im wearing.

-my mum gave me several moderately detailed accounts of sexual assaults that hve happened to her, like for instance when i was around 6-9? she used a story of a sexual assault that happened to her while in a pool to say that i be afraid in public pools. the amount of detail was very unnecessary.

-one time my mum was telling me about how boys pinch girls buttcheeks to tell them they think theyre 'sexy'. then she pinched my buttcheeks a bunch of times even though i didnt want her to. im sure she did this many times and i was literally like 5 years old or something.

-my mum talked to my sister while i was in earshot about... how she would be ok with it if i married my 1st cousin? and she named him specifically. it made me feel rly weird around him.

-again my dad has always just given me huge predator vibes and ive always been super afraid of him.

this list is definitely incomplete but i dont remember anything penetrative or to do with anyone touching my genitals.

i tried to tell someone about the "sexual abuse" twice when i was 13, both during mental ward stays about 9 or 10 months apart. the first time is completely blacked out from my memory and the second one... they told the police. my dad was questioned and nothing happened because i never wanted anyone except the nurse who i told to know and refused to tell anyone any details. i just wanted to get a weight off my shoulders. instead i got a 3 or so year long period of my mum emotionally abusing me to a degree she never had. i was almost completely convinced that i had never been sexually abused. i still dont know if its true or not. the specific term my mum used was that i "mis-interpreted" my parents actions as sexual abuse. i didnt push back, i was too terrified of her and i just dissociated to cope with those years. i was very very isolated from anyone except my mum. i wanted desperately to be a young child again and felt like one most of the time. before 6 years old was the only period where i felt like my parents actually liked me.

when i was around 15 i started sexually getting involved with older men online. i wasnt attracted to them, i didntdesire them, i just was so traumatised from... whatevrr u want to call the way my parents treated me but i didnt feel that i had the right to be. i felt like i needed to get some "real" trauma and i dont want to say what i did but im lucky that none of these men ended up meeting up with me irl at least. the fucked up thing is that though it did traumatise me, i kind of felt better because i wanted something i could feel justified in being upset about.

now im 19 and my brain is hitting me with all these memories. i havent felt safe with my parents for most of my life. theyre neglectful and emotionally abusive towards me. they abused all my other siblings physically quite a lot and two of them have moved to different countries so that they can not live in the same place they grew up in. 2 out of 3 of my siblings have completely cut ties with my parents for years now. when i was 11 i recoeved an email from my brother telling me about our parents not being safe people.

ive started to consider the possibility of the constant violation of my boundaries counting as sexual abuse. i have a lot of sexual trauma symptoms and i have for a very long time. i grew up afraid that my dad was going to rape me. i think i was abused by my mum into associating holding my parents accountable with the punishment she put me through after she found out i reported them. i just want to know if im allowed to be upset about this. im terrified that this is normal, because if its normal that means i was a gross freak as a kid who just "mis-interpreted" these actions to be sexual abuse. i need to make sense of my reality somehow. im so confused.

you absolutely have the right to be upset by this. what they did to you was not okay. an adult touching a child intentionally in inappropriate areas is molestation, even if they played it off as not a big deal. many of the things you mentioned also sound like grooming which is often a part of childhood sexual abuse. i’m so sorry these things happened to you. i hope you are safe and can find a way to not be around your parents.

[thejudgingtrash]

My unpopular opinion: Chiron is a horrible teacher, protector, whatever. He’s as bad dumbledor. He often manipulates children and put them in danger? Also is RR really trying to tell me not one single demigod from before percy’s generation made it to adulthood? Not even demigods of minor gods? If not then why haven’t we heard from them, why weren’t they called to fight in the war so that literal children didn’t have to? I have more but I’m not brave enough to post them lol

Fuck, I gotta check my asks more often. Too much stuff laying around and oh please people! Send your stuff in! Don’t be shy! It’s so interesting to see what’s on your mind! Let’s have that conversation and ask me!! :D I mean a bunch of people agreed and disagreed with my stances (Part 1/Part 2), let’s see how I feel about yours!

Anyway HERE WE GO BOYS! LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO! 

LET’S HAVE THAT WHOLE DAMN ESSAY!

Chiron is clearly a self insert from Riordan. I mean come on…

That’s a solid Chiron if I see one. Which is pretty ironic as Chiron’s the shitty teacher who we all know and love. Got something to admit, Riordan? You as a former teacher? HMM?

Hiding incompetence under the disguise of the gentle old wise teacher is definitely something that Dumbledore and Chiron share. Chiron is the old centaur who lived for aeons and helped out the most famous heroes of their times, so shouldn’t modern times be considered to be an easier job for him? He’s barely present, highkey vague and has absolutely no problems with tossing children literally out into the open across the entire fucking US and A to clean the gods’ bathroom messes.

Had the heroes been in their 20s like in the original myths (or even older) it would’ve made more sense to let them find their own ways. It would be rude,  but somewhat okay. You could expect adults to find the way and connect the dots. But this is just messing with a bunch of 12 year olds because you can at this point.

Chiron is that supposed sweet teacher that just fucks up. We all had one, you know the one. Seems gentle and nice and but has clearly chosen the wrong job. Don’t know if that’s the trauma of living that long and/or seeing kids dying constantly that’s hitting him in the back of the head.

I have the feeling that people are projecting their teacher fantasies on to him just like step-father fantasies that include Paul. Because we want a guide who is trustworthy, we want an authoritative figure that we can share our concerns with and who guides us to solid solutions without betraying our trust.

But like I said, he’s essentially sending out kids to deathly missions and encouraging deep traumas. Yes, we can partially blame Chiron, but most of the blame goes to the gods who enable and encourage this weird dynamic. Would all of them straight up cut the bullshit and mostly resolve their own issues without using their children as pawns, it would’ve been easier for everyone involved. Additionally, there are many kids in camp to keep busy, look after and care for. I don’t know how many there were pre-TLO but I’d assume the number was in the hundreds? Of course, in larger cabins are camp counsellors that help out and guide next to camp schedules. But since Percy’s the only kid in the Poseidon cabin I guess that thought went south? Percy being the special kid would actually mean that there should be a focus on him unless you’re going for the “I’m neutral” spiel. Chiron knew from day one that Percy was walking Poseidon seed, come on.

Also like I somewhat implied, seeing people die left and right might have impacted Chiron to make him feel indifferent/despressed (could also be a stretch, who knows). Which isn’t an excuse, but might explain some takes. Explaining the same stuff for millennia in its essentials is probably getting tiring.

I think this is the third time that I mentioned it on my blog but showing and telling are the most powerful story telling concepts/fundamentals and you see Rowling and Riordan constantly failing at that which is concerning. Instead of Chiron (or Dumbledore) just simply getting down to the point and telling and explaining stuff briefly, he only eludes, vaguely formulates and it is simply confusing especially for a child in a brand new environment who just lost his mother (if we’re speaking about TLT). This does nothing but add more stress in such a fragile situation especially when a new and bigger threat makes its way.

There’s also the discussion on how much of Greek myth Percy actually gets. He has the basic/ obvious knowledge which many tend to forget. He doesn’t come in with no knowledge. He had Latin classes back at the academy, he studies with Annabeth, he knows some of the monsters. What he simply doesn’t know, is the magic of it all. That is the most confusing part for him.

The actual magic is not explained, which it doesn’t have to be in all of its entirety, but needs to be addressed somehow and gradually.

Percy asking a simple question like how the camp stays sunny and covered 24/7 and how the wardens work and Chiron casually sitting here like you a stoopid one

doesn’t help.

What many people forget: Magic doesn’t erase logic. Even in a magical setting, unless clearly stated, there has to be some kind of logic to connect the dots. It doesn’t need to be a clear cut A to B, but it should be comprehensible for both the readers and the characters in a particular situation. And that’s just not happening for Percy as the character. This also sets up the premise of Percy being ”stupid” which he isn’t. He is surrounded by incompetent teachers and staff that don’t bother telling him how things work and assume that he’ll just manage.

Yeah. Both Dumbledore and Chiron are awfulness in a sweet calm disguise.

Onto part two of the ask. I have had so many talks with people on that exact problem. It simply boils down to one issue:

Rick Riordan‘s inconsistency in world building and setting. The story telling doesn’t make any sense.

So kids are dying like flies before 18 but many are also super famous and in powerful positions? Many are historical figures that made it well over 18? Make that make sense. Also was WW2 supposed to be kicked off by some 12 year olds with that logic? The biggest man made catastrophe of the modern era boiled down to a bunch of fighting kids? No. We all know it. Just simply no. I actually don’t mind the WW2 background but Riordan should’ve given it another thought and be a bit more sensitive…? Like the whole fascist gang being team Hades? Uhh… sure…. nope.

Also the same logic applies to Civil War? You’re telling me a bunch of kids were supposed to have started this stance? Who was for and who was against slavery then? What in the actual fuck? Using children as child soldiers to stand in for these large complex historical issues that stretch over years and show many of humanity’s horrifying sides is just….eh.

No. This whole thing about campers dying as soon as they reach the magic number of 18 are either bedtime stories to scare the kids or toughen them up orrrr my guess, Riordan actually managed yet again to fuck up his own lore.

It’s the same logic with New Rome. You have a whole city full of adults but have a few kids run that bitch? You did your ten years of service as a child soldier and then do one of these?

As if adults magically exit this world. Like is that the reason why Percy’s been 17 for a whole damn decade? Because otherwise he gotta hand riptide in and all of the boys scout medals he has collected so far? Adults would’ve had the experience and expertise to win those fights but it would break the magic and charm of the books that a bunch of kids are saving the world for the younger demographic. Let’s do not forget that the targeted audience of the books are middle schoolers. Makes somewhat sense with PJO but with HOO Riordan really shot himself in the leg. He should’ve matured the OG characters at least.

(Also speaking about the actual myths again. A good chunk of them died in their 20s/30s/40s. Odysseus guided as an old man. The heroes weren’t twelve and dipping by the age of 16. The Trojan war went on for 10 years for example. So whereas the real Perseus lived a longer life and had a somewhat happy ending in comparison to his peers, he wasn’t the only one that made it into adulthood.)

Riordan mixing up his own lore is just a shame. Yes, it’s human and he already gets a lot of flag for other stuff. I also get it as a writer with my fanfic where I really have to scroll up to search tiny details that I’ve embedded and not noted down. Perhaps it’s my inner capitalist speaking, but for I’m way more forgiving towards a free product, a gift like a fanfic, rather than something I’ve paid actual money for when it comes to this. The process of publishing a book is large. You mean to tell me that there was no editor at Disney that bothered to fact check? Riordan got a check from us all and doesn’t even bother looking up his own stuff. A little bit more effort, Ricardo. Please. You have an entire damn wiki you could use to check for free if you’re too lazy to read your own books/don’t use authors softwares. Like what?

It’s stupid. You know it, I know it. And as you can see, I fully agree with you.

[averycanadianfilm]

READING GUIDE TO : Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J.C. (1979) The Inheritors: French students and their relation to culture, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. - Dave Harris

Chapter one

Class chance data is presented for France, covering access to university and also choice of subjects.  Generally, Arts and Sciences are preferred for lower class applicants, while the other professions attract upper class students.  Gender is magnified by class in terms of access, especially for lower class students, and a strong influence on subject choice throughout.  However, some Arts students are also relegated from the upper class: for them, arts subjects are a refuge.

There are therefore economic and cultural obstacles to success at the university.  These include religion and age [in France, the older students are often those who have had to repeat grades].

Social origins produce different rates of financial provision, affect where people live, and affect the sort of work they do.  For example, they influence the amount of parental subsidy.

As a result, students do not really have a common situation or experience.  They come from very different cultural backgrounds, and quite different experiences from being at home or feeling out of place (13).  They experience differential success according to their 'previously acquired intellectual tools, cultural habits' (14).  Particularly important is their ability to manipulate 'the abstract language of ideas', which is much easier if you have done Greek or Latin.  Cultural heritage is also amplified by various scholastic streams and channels, which produce 'sanctions which consecrate social inequalities' (14).  For some, their educational past is a definite handicap, including the absence of classical languages or adequate advice on careers.

These inequalities are concealed by their belief that some students possess 'gifts', producing a disdain for practical techniques of study noted below.  University life tends to be eclectic and dilettante, mostly because bourgeois students are 'more assured of their vocations or their abilities' (15).  Those from other origins are far more dependent on the university.  For the bourgeois, a liking for 'intellectual exoticism and formalistic purity' helps 'liquidate a bourgeois experience while expressing it' (15).  Detachment and a willingness to take risks 'presupposes a greater security’ (15).  Self assurance pays off in exams, especially in orals [presentations?].  This stance is helped by universities themselves who value 'remaining aloof from "academic" values and disciplines' (17).

Bourgeois students inherit 'habits, skills and attitudes…  knowledge and know how, tastes and a "good taste"'(17), which do pay off even if indirectly.  A suitable extracurricular culture is the 'implicit condition for academic success in certain disciplines'(17), for example coming from a family with experiences in the theatre, art galleries, concerts, knowledge of modern works even jazz or the cinema.  These experiences display a combination of cultural and economic factors here [and strongly prefigures the work in Distinction, even with some initial survey data].  The absence of explicit instruction in universities makes this cultural influence more important.  Influences are often subtle, for example in the displaying of knowledge of the past in the effortless reproduction of academic argument.  Interests are often combined, enabling those from suitable backgrounds to distinguish themselves from those possessing purely scholastic knowledge.  There is a  whole constellation of knowledge to draw upon.  There also important personal qualities such as 'ironic casualness, mannered elegance, or…  assurance which lends ease or the affectation of ease' (20).  [So common among the English upper classes as well].

This sort of cultural background works indirectly, casually and informally, it seems effortless, acquired by osmosis [some nice examples on page 20—like the casual disclosure of cultural interests, 'acquired without intention or effort'].  Those from lower and middle class backgrounds try to catch up at university, for examples by going to film clubs.  Schools could compensate, but they also tend to ignore social inequalities and devalue 'the vulgar mark of effort' (21). Thus universities offer only a misleading formal equality, and ignore marked social differences, whole areas which are clearly related to success.  Teaching presupposes a level of knowledge, skills and culture which are the 'heritage of the cultivated classes' (21).  

Secondary school uses a number of secondary significations which take for granted 'the whole treasury of first degree experiences’—books, entertainment, holidays as 'cultural pilgrimages', and 'allusive conversations' (22).  The universal nature of education simply means all must enter.  Working-class children can only imitate, and the whole experience for them is unreal.

Access needs to be not just a matter of economic background.  'Ability' should not be seen as a matter of a gift but the result of 'affinities between class cultural habits and the demands of the education system' (22).  Knowledge and techniques are inseparable from social values.  Some working-class students are willing to undertake university experience because they see academic knowledge as high status, and it 'symbolises entry into the elite' (22).  However, social mobility via education is 'a fantasy, and abstraction for [most] manual workers' (23).  Their ambitions are lower: they make an objective adjustment.  The petty bourgeoisie are the most keen on education, and they openly support elite culture even though they find it just as difficult to acquire: they think they can make up the deficit with hard work.

Teacher judgments are ultimately based on the closeness to elite culture.  Teachers classically devalue other approaches such as seriousness and hard work.  Social advantages and disadvantages are cumulative as a result.  Even geographical location is important because living in a city means greater access to cultural facilities.

There is no mechanical determinism here, though, since inheritance is not always successful.  Upper class culture can merely lead to the  'superficial pastime of elegant parlor games' (25), but usually it is exploited to find a comfortable way through an education system.  It is true that working-class entrants to university can gain in ambition and determination.  However, those who succeed nearly always have some kind of unusual family background like a successful relative, who will raise their ambitions and reject fatalism. [In conventional research as well as in policy and common sense] isolated factors are seen as important [instead of seeing qualifying factors as well].

It is more common to persuade the underprivileged to drop out rather than to exert a direct influence on them, or to reveal open determinism.  It would be wrong to attribute all the blame to economic or political factors, but social mechanisms work well despite minor adjustments such as scholarships.  Indeed, these minor reforms can help to justify the system by locating 'giftedness’ as the issue.  The same goes for moves to equalise the economic circumstances of students  [grants?]—they would only legitimise a system which itself legitimises privilege.

Chapter two

There is no unified student world or culture, but a constant flux with only periodic routine.  There are cycles of study leading to exams, but it is a unique time of life where normal oppositions do not apply,  including the opposition between work and leisure [lots of quotes on page 30 from students saying that they regard their work as a form of leisure:

'It's the only time in life when you can put off what you've got to do, work when it suits you, be unemployed if you feel like it…  (Senior executive' son, Paris, aged 26)…  There's no such thing as leisure: I refuse to draw a line between work and leisure, I don't accept that dichotomy…  (Junior executive son, Paris)…  My work isn't unpleasant; it's not something I'm forced to do.  I could almost say all my work is in leisure…  (A junior executive son, Paris)…  I don't separate work and leisure.  If there's a decent movie on I go and see it, whether it's a weekday or a Sunday.  The question really doesn't arise.  There is no particular pattern to my leisure activities; I choose what I'm going to do but I don't organise it…  There's nothing fixed (senior executives daughter, Paris)' (30).

However…

'Yes I waste a terrible amount of time; I don't know how to organize my work properly, and, since workhouse to come by for leisure…  I have no time left for leisure (senior executives some, Paris).  The fact is I don't seem able to discipline myself, it's always the same story (senior executive's son, Paris)'.  NB Bourdieu and Passeron see this as an aristocratic form of lifestyle.

There is a characteristic student lifestyle with a lack of discipline and a ‘libertarian use of “free time”’ (31).  Students are individualised, despite occasional ‘islands of integration’ (32).  Integration has no institutional basis.  It is therefore not easy to organise collective work, or cooperation, or small workgroups.  Individualistic competition persists instead.  The old traditions like student festivals and songs are in decline, and there are not even initiation rituals, except possibly in Law and Medicine.  There are no real social divisions or any bases for solidarity—for example the rivalry between different disciplines or other signs of the persistence of sub cultures, including argot. Students are not even well connected through friendship groups, except where these depend on earlier shared schooling or regional identity.  Upper class students are the most integrated socially.  Friends’ advice is not sought in the choice of a subject or career, rumours spread but not information.  

The student milieu is therefore not autonomised, but consists of a ‘fluid aggregate [rather] than an occupational group’ (36).There is a nostalgia for integration, but actual organisation fails. Girls are the keenest to initiate collective activity, following the ‘characteristics of the woman’s traditional role’ (36).  Staff participation helps.  The most common result of this lack of organisation is resignation or utopianism, especially in Paris students’ activism, which includes ‘conceptual terrorism of verbal demands’ (37).  A belief in cooperative work, small groups and so on persists, but as the projection of an ideal.

Yet such projections reveal an underlying objective reality [by contrast].  Students want to identify individually with this mythical unity.  Characteristic student behaviours are ‘symbolic’ indicators of this project.  'Student' is therefore a chosen identity, the rejection of past identities, including those associated with the occupation of one’s parents, part of a general denial of class determinism [but not gender?].  It is important to not conform, to distinguish oneself while labelling others.  This is another example of the transformation of necessity into freedom (39) [so it is not just the working classes who have to do this?] Student identity means the rejection of any actual bonding.  For example cafes are frequented because there, one encounters the ‘archetypal student’ [rather as students went to the library in Lille to conform to the archetypal student, in Academic Discourse].

Students live out their relations to their class of origin according to ‘the models of the intellectual class reinterpreted’ (40).  They display a reaction to the discipline of the secondary school.  By comparison, student identity is a sign of ‘cultural free will’ (40).  Guidance from older students is important here, and prestigious examples can include university teachers.  Everyone knows a high prestige professor who is far from being a mere pedagogue.  This only disguises power relations.

The university is still a very important influence, though.  Students still do well if they are ‘adapted to the university and can transpose its scholastic techniques and interests’ (41).  So called alternative cultural worlds,  based around jazz or cinema actually complement the university world [is this still the same with contemporary universities and contemporary commercial popular culture?].  [There is a hint of the cultural omnivore thesis here, 41].  Students’ public denial of the importance of university culture and teaching disguises the real influence at work through the ‘cultural goods market’ (42).  

An important role in actually orienting the tastes of students is played by ‘Professorial charisma…  The display of virtuosity, the play of laudatory allusions or depreciatory silences’ (42).  Students are passive and willing to be taught, or to let teachers guide them.  So close is the connection that ‘the study of consumption can be collapsed into a study of production’ (42).  University culture includes ‘the scholastic consecration of novelties’ (43).  As a result, university culture is more homogenous than it looks [in support, student prize winners are given as examples, revealing their conformist tastes, even if those cover the avant garde].  The ideal student is still a homo academicus, often the son and grandson of teachers, often wanting to be a philosophy lecturer, often showing some precocious talents.  The university therefore ‘always preaches to the converted’ (43).

However, some students are only playing at having intellectual tastes, displaying  ‘collective bad faith’, or deploying the  ‘ruse of reason’ (44).  An illusory intellectual life is possible.  It usually involves ignoring social origins and destinations, and ‘autonomising the present of studenthood’ (44).  It involves games and tricks, and is assisted by the ‘unreality of university practice’ (44), where there are no real sanctions, and even examinations are playful rather than work-like.  Students do feel insecure, and lecturers do judge their work, but there is a constant ambivalence—for example students and lecturers commonly joke about examinations and yet still see them as a matter of ‘personal salvation’ (45) especially the dissertation.  It is a very involving game.  Even the student challenges are within the rules of the intellectual game of contestation: thus ‘Revolts against the system…  achieve…  the ultimate ends pursued by the university’ (45) [reads pretty much like Willis on working class lads rebelling but then ending up in manual work].  Even student rebels worship culture if not the university.  Bohemian behaviour still equates to obedience to traditional models.  Any escape into popular culture is still characterised as a form of literary discussion.

This is especially marked in the Paris Arts Faculty.  Students are mostly bourgeois, but commonly deny their background and espouse left wing causes, but without adopting any particular orthodoxy or party membership.  Instead, they adopt new labels.  They have a mostly aesthetic commitment to an avant garde, which leads to a ‘conformism of anti conformism’ (46).  Rebellion is little more than the ‘symbolic breaks of adolescence’ seen as an ‘intellectual self realisation’ (46).  Any sexual liberation pursued by women can be seen simply as a formal reversal of the value of virginity.  Extreme political views are best read as a symbolic break with the family.  Symbolic differences are more important than the real differences provided by social origin.  Student radical life features endless argument to establish differentiations within the general consensus of the avant garde.  Concrete commitments tend to be applauded.  Political debate is seen as a kind of play, and is work.  Politics becomes a pastime.  In reality, it is wealth and privilege that enables intellectual detachment, intellectual mastery, and political audacity.  Privileged students are also better able to accumulate a ‘capital of information’, based on their membership of literary and philosophical political coteries, and the ability to attend lots of outside lectures and assemblies [in Paris] (49).  Any diversity in the academic world produces the relativisation of professorial privilege [not enough to lead to serious criticism?] , and the opportunity for more intellectual adventure.

University life becomes an excellent preparation for the later literary games played among the Parisian bourgeoisie, and wider philosophical discussion, for example of the crisis in education, shows the ‘beginners’ illusion [masquerading as a] basis for a universal reflection’ (15).  There is still a lot of studentanxiety however, and here, ideological debates offer assurance.  A liking for student [revolutionary?] festivity is really a form of symbolic integration.

The ideal type Parisian Arts student draws from a literary education and from the cultural opportunities offered by Paris, and the ‘risk free freedom that a well to do social origin makes possible’ (51).  Bourgeois students see university life as intellectual adventure, not as ‘an apprenticeship subject to the test of occupational success’ (51).

There are more working-class students now, but bourgeois values persist: those values ‘will not cease to be regarded as inseparable from the [student] milieu’ (51).  Nevertheless, modern students can perceive university teaching as somehow unreal, possibly because they have experience of real occupations. Thus actual students will vary according to their commitment to the ideal type, and this will vary according to their social origins.  ‘Serious’ students can be both critics of this unreality, and still prepared to consider only university problems as serious.

[What a condemnation of student activists!  I do recognise the posturing bourgeois type from my own experiences during the student revolt at LSE, and, later at Essex, and I know exactly what they mean by the insistence on preserving literary forms of argument while discussing radical overhauls.  During one sit in at LSE, friends made it their business to guard the library!  Proles werestill mocked for their vulgarity. Several dreadful poseurs made fiery speeches proposing solidarity with the north Vietnamese army, and then fled at the prospect of being arrested by the metropolitan police!  However, I think they do underestimate the impact on some working class lads such as myself, who did gain an insight into professorial incompetence that led to a lifetime’s scepticism.  Nevertheless, I think they are broadly right.  Interestingly, the ideal type bourgeois radical manifests itself best in education departments of respectable UK universities, where students are still harangued with idealist and utopian visions, and words like ‘oppression’ or ‘struggle’ are used both to describe third world radical movements and the need to cope with an inconvenient timetable].

Chapter three

[This chapter starts with an astonishing criticism of child centred and play-centred education—by Hegel!  Such an education preserves immaturity, it is indifferent to the intellectual world, and it shows contempt for elders!  (54)]

It is possible to construct an ideal type of rational conduct for student,  based on the claims that characterise university life.  However, the real issue is self-creation, and to be a participant in academic culture.  The rational type will argue that university culture is to be mastered, yet this is denied in practice, and instead there is a goal of independence, the abolition of the distinction between the student and the teacher.  However, this distinction is abolished only in the imagination, without going through the painful process of subjection first [very familiar terminology here!].  Indeed, there is often a straightforward denial of student passivity. This imaginary resolution is satisfactory to students and professors, although denied by both conservatives and revolutionary utopians.  Rational conduct, however would involve seeing passivity as a means to an occupational end.  The denials involve a view that the present should dominate the future, and that the status of student should become more autonomous.

Students occupy pre- constructed roles, like the 'exam hound' or the dilettante.  Life goes on in a magical mode [compare with the notion of magical resolution in gramscian work].  Options can coexist in that world.  The magical world is supported by professors, 'the students'opponents and accomplices' (57).  Professors do not want to appear as having a rational role, as a mere 'teaching auxiliary' (58). The whole experience is therefore mystified or enchanted, and this mystical relation rather than the technical function of education affects the teaching experience.  Professors claim they have some gift in transmitting culture, and this notion of gift is reciprocated by students [very similar arguments are made in Academic Discourse].

Students do vary, however.  The awareness of an occupational destinations seems particularly vague for Arts students, and uncertain for sociologists: these views actually mimic the real possibilities!  There is no occupational point to study for the students, so it is justified instead as an intellectual adventure.  Their values ‘depend on mystified experience' (59).  [There is a hint here that the enchantment of rationalised study is deliberate].  

Women students have more reason to mystify, although for them reality dawns earlier.  They often describe the substantial freedoms involved in using academic work to escape [rather like the stuff I have been quoting from Quinn!].  However, intellectual escape is still associated with the traditional female values, including their desired destinations as teachers, and their lower confidence in their intellectual capacities.  They're still more likely to be instrumental, and to use their 'scholastic zeal and docility as a way of avoiding the question of the future' (61).  Another option is female student apathy.  [Or] female students report high levels of commitment to university life, again echoing traditional female values such as exalting sacrifice, and using words like relationship or enrichment, or talking about the development of personality [lots of examples PP. 61,62].  This can be an alternative to the magical concealment preferred by men.  Female options echo the sexism of the university.

Social origin has effects as well.  There are parallels between working class origins and being female.  Neither are likely to get an intellectual occupation and so they are less likely to invest in the intellectual game approach.  They need to bow to necessity and acknowledge the importance of an occupation.  Upper class students are happier with vague projects, but working-class students are more focused, because they are more aware that they need not have been students at university at all.  Upper class students are more distant, more prone to mystification, more contemptuous of pedagogy and methods, and of scholarly discipline.  They, and many professors, would find any kind of practical instruction about coping with university life—like using a card index for drawing up a bibliography—as demeaning, the act of a 'vulgar schoolmaster' (63).  The same goes for any kind of intellectual training—instead, upper class students and professors prefer the romantic image of free. inspired creation.

Magical perceptions are common.  Professors collude  by denying clear information, such as their criteria, and the techniques necessary to succeed.  Students deny the importance of hard work and routine, and see success arising from a gift or by magic.  This explains their following examination rituals, whether it be feverish last minute revision, or obsessive note taking—'a technique for spiritual consolation' (64) [modern students attend lectures and seminars obsessively, and even complain if they are cancelled—but never take notes!].  There are superstitions, guessing rituals, amulets and fetishes, and the repetition of successful conduct.  Success is seen as a reward for having a gift, including the gift of successful guessing (65).  There is 'overt contempt’ for any rational approach (65).  Professors collude in this too: it is reciprocal—for example the lecture style means that students can enjoy anonymity [and ritual attendance]—and both professors and students oppose rational approaches.

These findings show the ultimate goal of the university system [social reproduction].  The rational approach contradicts these ultimate goals.  Cultural transmission could be rationalised, and it would benefit the most disadvantaged students [more on rational teaching later].

Conclusion

Because real educational inequalities are never discussed, differences are seen as a result of ‘giftedness’ (67).  Differences are tolerated only if they are seen as differences in gifts, or as the occasional social handicap faced by a gifted student.  The lack of talent or enthusiasm in students is never explained.  Formal examinations express a purely formal equality: as they are anonymous it is impossible to see how they reflect cultural inequalities.  The formal policy of equal opportunity only ‘transforms privilege into merit’ (68).  It is impossible to have any other outcome unless serious weight is given to the social origins of students [or value added?].  However, we would then expect unequal terminal performances.  This could lead to a hierarchy of institutions, and the degree overall could be devalued.  Experience in some communist countries might be cited, but even there there is often a tension [between rewarding 'redness' and expertise].  Overall, the roles of the game have to remain unquestioned.  The lack of questioning is shown in the continuing attraction of the grandest institutions and most prestigious disciplines in French universities to all recruits.  The credibility of the system requires that inequalities affecting students from outside the university are ignored.  Insisting on the role of social differences is therefore a challenge to the whole system.

Giftedness is like charisma.  It benefits the privileged and legitimates their contempt for the less privileged.  Working-class students accept this as a kind of essentialism (70), and personalise their disadvantage.  Indeed, working-class students are among those who believe most strongly in the idea of a charismatic gift.  The tendency to reduce to essentialism is common among students because they are already prone to see who they are as what they do.

Teachers also assume their success arises from some personal gift, another essentialism.  Often, the education system has been their only route to success, confirming this essentialism.  It is often linked with the denigration of vulgar effort.

Students are only too willing to accept their status as victims rather than blame ‘clumsy teachers’ (71).  Often their parents are over impressed by teachers' opinions or by the simple scores in educational tests, and are liable to say things like ‘He’s no good at French’, which naturalises inequality.  Student objections to the system are often still couched in [victim vocabulary], and they expect solutions to be provided only by the generosity of teachers.  Populist demands [such as that working-class culture has to be valued alongside elite culture] are also limited, since the dominant system is not just a simple class culture.  Furthermore, academic skills and aptitudes can be learned.

The first requirement is to aim to affect the home environment.  Teachers need to be fully explicit about what is required.  The usual formulae are not enough [superstitions, but also  including routine study skills advice?].  Teachers need to avoid any claims to have professorial charisma, and to develop a rational pedagogy, although this is ‘still to be invented’ (73).  Scientific pedagogy is no good because it ignores social conditions [so a real difference between Bourdieu and the educational technologists here].  We need to evaluate different methods of teaching, modes and actual procedures—for example, should we give general technical advice or close direction of student work?  Efficiency should be seen as related to students' social origins.  We might need constant exercises to build up the skills needed.  At the moment, this is denied by the myth of student autonomy and independent learning (74) which only help legitimates the charismatic teacher myth and see alternatives as pedantry.

Students vacillate between the perceived need for discipline and the myth of the aristocratic stance.  Teachers also vacillate, taking an aristocratic stance until they have to do assessment (75).  Professional judgments in reality are 'based on personal criteria, variable from teacher to teacher and…  tied to the particular case' (75).  Students need to decipher these criteria and try to rationalise them.

Students from upper class origins can adapt to these diffuse requirements, because of a 'clear affinity between school culture and the culture of the cultivated class' (75).  When asked to undertake oral exams, upper class students just demonstrate the skills which are already unconsciously valued [in presentations too?]. Any open recognition of the effects of social origin 'would be regarded as scandalous' (75).

In a rational approach, there would be clarity about the 'reciprocal requirements of teachers and taught…  the organisation of study…  to enable students from the disadvantaged classes to overcome their disadvantages' (75).  [Then a strangely utilitarian remark]: we should permit the 'greatest possible number of individuals to appropriate in the shortest possible time, as completely and perfectly as possible, the greatest number of the abilities which constitute school culture at a given moment' (76).  This approach will be neither traditional nor technical/specialist.  Until we develop it, education cannot overcome inequality.  At the same time, a rational pedagogy is in its turn impossible unless recruitment of teachers and students is democratised.

Epilogue

The middle class demand for university expansion arises from the need to secure their social places [credentialist closure].  The response to the development of a modern economy has been to demand more kinds of education.  Diplomas themselves have probably been devalued in terms of their role in regulating access to jobs.  The rapid growth of more functional [vocational?] education and more functional jobs have devalued traditional diplomas, and excluded non holders of diplomas altogether.  Academic qualifications have also helped to unify the whole system of qualifications [compare with the British government's model of 8 different levels].

As well as obtaining a diploma, it is important to exploit its value, and this requires further investments of educational and social capital. Those stopping at the lower levels, and new arrivals at the higher ones, are likely to suffer most from devaluation.  They can fight back, for themselves and for their children, by demanding even more better qualifications [as in the credentialist spiral].

Educational qualifications can be converted to economic capital in several ways.  Graduates might be able to demand higher wages: those holding diplomas have overtaken small independent businessmen in terms of income [almost a counterbalance argument here, based on some statistical evidence, the authors claim].  Alternatively, graduates might be able to shift into new businesses.  This can be seen in the changes around craft work, for example, which now feature luxury and leisure goods.  These require a more cultural capital (80).  For such goods, value lies in the 'casual distinction of the vendor [as much] as on the nature and quality of the wares' (81), and it is important to demonstrate a mastery of taste rather than technical skills.  These sorts of new cultural industries seem ideal for those with cultural capital rather than high levels of educational capital [as an example, the denser members of the UK royal family seem to be able to make a good living making very posh furniture].

Holders of devalued qualifications can try to retain their value [an interesting possibility relating to the recent work on knowledge economy in the UK, which also predicts falling returns to university degrees].  For example, the diploma can become a licence to gain privilege rather than an actual job, and to increase self esteem.  Again more objective mechanisms are required, including a need to invest in valuable educational capital, perhaps by pulling out of unfashionable subjects [or unis].  It is possible to cling on to the old values to some extent, if you can persuade colleagues and the family of the value of your diploma, this can sometimes mask a real devaluation.  In some circumstances, it might lead to actual revaluation [if particular degree subjects become fashionable, or if you can persuade employers that the prestige of the qualification is the most important thing].  Those who supply jobs however are likely to reward their real value of diplomas, especially if they are pursuing deskilling strategies as well.  [I can still see a place for well educated but non technical people as decorative members of boards of directors].  In the worst case, diploma holders can be unemployed, and can see themselves as refusing to play the game [hence the moral drop out, who gains an engineering degree, finds it overtaken by technical developments, and gives it all up to run a smallholding in Devon].

[iamtrebleclefstories]

Every Day I Love You More - Ch. 5

Chapter 5 - YOU DIDN’T KNOW? 

After having drunk sex, Jo and Alex are having a baby. An actual baby. Here’s how everyone finds out.

-Sequel to I’m Happy Right Here with You-

Alex slips up, more people find out. 

It had been three days since Callie found out about Jo’s pregnancy and there had been no shortage of teasing remarks from Callie and Cristina. Every time Jo or Alex were left in a room with either of them, they were forced to hear the endless jokes being made about them and their drunk sex baby. Jo found it funny if she was being honest. The lightheartedness of this pregnancy was so refreshing considering what happened the last time. The jokes were a welcome distraction from the fact that Jo was in the process of filing from divorce from Paul and her lawyer was going to submit those papers by the end of the week.

That morning, she’d woken up before Alex did, which wasn’t unusual. However, for the first time in weeks, she woke up without the sudden need to vomit. She laid there on her side and stared at his sleeping form for a while longer. It was surreal waking up next to him. This morning especially so, since it wasn’t clouded by overwhelming nausea. Jo was convinced that there was no way that this was her real life. She had to be dreaming.

She had been stroking his hair for a few minutes when Alex spoke, “You know, watching people sleep is kind of creepy.”

Alex opened his eyes only to find Jo rolling hers, “Can’t you be normal and just say, ‘Good morning, babe. I love you and I can’t believe you’re carrying our baby.’ Can’t you do that?”

“Good morning, babe. I love you and I can’t believe you’re carrying our baby,” Alex gave Jo a quick kiss as Jo gave him a look of annoyance. “Hey! You’re not throwing up today. That’s a good sign.”

“Yup,” Jo nodded. “I feel great, actually. I think the baby finally decided to cooperate.”

Alex placed his hand on her flat stomach, “I can’t wait until you have a bump.”

“You mean until I get fat? Honestly, neither can I,” Jo smiled. “But Lucy said it might be a while before I start showing. I have a retroverted uterus so I’ll probably start showing later than most women. But I guess that’s a good thing. The longer I can hide my pregnancy, the less of a chance for Paul to find out and try plea presumed paternity and make our lives a mess.”

“He can try and try, but he won’t win, Jo. This is our kid and if we need to do a paternity test to prove it, then we will. He has no rights here,” Alex assured.

Jo took a deep breath and thought of how supportive Alex had been ever since she had confessed to him about her marriage. She exhaled, “You’re right. He has no rights. This baby is ours and he can’t take it away from us.”

They laid in the bed for a few more minutes in silence before deciding it was time to get up and get ready. After having been on Peds for over a month now, Jo had switched onto a different service for the next couple weeks. A part of Jo was a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t get to spend the entire day with Alex anymore, but she supposed she should be excited for a chance to learn something new. For the next two weeks, she’d be on neuro with Derek Shepherd.

When Jo and Alex arrived at the hospital, they parted ways and Jo went down to the residents’ lounge. She smiled as she saw her friends getting changed into their scrubs for the day. Jo grabbed a clean pair of scrubs and started to change clothes. Just as she was pulling her shirt off, she heard Stephanie whistle.

“Damn, Jo. Did you do anything different? Because your boobs look great,” Stephanie commented.

“Oh,” Jo laughed awkwardly. “It’s just a new bra… is all. Ever since Alex and I got together, I decided to update some pieces of my wardrobe if you know what I mean.”

“Look at Jo, trying to be all sexy for her man,” Stephanie teased.

“I bet he loves it,” Leah wiggled her eyebrows. “How many times a day do you catch him staring at your boobs in that thing?”

“Way too often,” Jo admitted.

The girls laughed and continued to get dressed. Once ready, Jo made her way to the Neuro ICU where she’d be meeting Dr. Shepherd for rounds. It had been a while since she had been on a neurosurgery, so Jo was excited for the next couple of weeks. The first patient she’d be rounding on was a trauma that came in last night. The man had massive internal injuries that were addressed immediately after coming into the hospital. He had not been stable enough last night to take in for surgery that would stop a slowly growing brain bleed, so Dr. Shepherd would take him in first thing this morning to correct it.

“Wilson. It’s good to have you on my service again,” Derek smiled as they walked out of the patient’s room. “How are you doing? I haven’t really gotten a chance to speak with you since you and Karev got together. He’s been hogging you to his service.”

“I doing great,” Jo grinned. “Excited to be on neuro again.”

“Well, you will be getting just a bit of peds today,” Derek shared. “We’ve got a baby with spina bifida that we’ll be working on this afternoon with Karev. Are you thinking about going into peds?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Jo shrugged. “I like everything. I do love peds, but who knows? Maybe I’ll end up in cardio or neuro or ortho. Don’t tell Alex I said that, though. I think he’s trying to be my Robbins.”

“No worries. Your secret is safe with me,” Derek chuckled. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got a brain bleed to stop and a couple aneurysms to clip before our fun spina bifida surgery.”

The day went by pretty smoothly for the most part. The guy with the brain bleed came out of surgery without any major deficits. Jo had assisted in a couple aneurysm clippings and now they were on their way to the pediatric wing to visit the spina bifida baby in the NICU. When Derek and Jo arrived, Alex was already giving the parents a brief rundown of what their baby—Brandon’s—surgery would entail. Derek explained the procedure in a bit more detail and encouraged the parents not to fear.

While Jo prepped the patient, Derek and Alex prepared to scrub in together. Alex looked up at the older man, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Karev. What is it?" Derek nodded.

"Has Jo been okay today? I'm just wondering because she looked a little dizzy and unsteady this morning before we left the house," Alex inquired.

"She's seemed alright to me," Derek encouraged. "We've performed quite a few surgeries today and she hasn't swayed once. Why is something wrong?"

"No," Alex shook his head. "I was a little worried. She just got over the morning sickness a couple days ago and it was pretty hard on her. I didn't want the next thing to be dizzy spells that could affect her work."

Unsure what to do with the new information he'd received, Derek just decided to go about the conversation as if he know what was going on, "Oh, well she's fine. Great even."

Alex nodded thankfully as Derek mulled over Karev's words. Alex must've thought that Derek already knew about Wilson's pregnancy from Meredith, so he decided to go about the procedure as if nothing had happened. The surgery was successful and Derek decided that he'd let Wilson leave early. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

As he arrived home that night, Derek kissed his wife and kids. He ate something quickly and spent the next few hours on the phone with D.C. as they tried to come up with more plans about the brain mapping initiative. Finally, at around eleven o'clock, he was able to get ready for bed. Derek had been sitting in the bed reading a medical journal when Meredith walked into the room.

“How was your day?” Meredith asked as she climbed under the covers.

“It was good,” Derek smiled. “I had Wilson on my service today. She is a very good and capable resident. Incredibly sharp. We clipped a couple aneurysms, stopped a brain bleed, and operated on a little boy with spina bifida.”

“Awe, like Zola,” Meredith commented. “Sounds like you had a pretty calm day today. Those are nice when you come home to two kids under the age of three.”

“You are so right,” Derek nodded and gave Meredith a quick kiss. “Oh! I almost forgot. Why didn’t you tell me that Alex is having a kid?”

“What?” Meredith sat up from the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Wilson is pregnant,” Derek stated. “Karev mentioned something about how he was glad that she was mostly over the morning sickness now. But he said he wanted to keep a close eye on her because this morning at the house she seemed a bit dizzy.”

“What?” Meredith was confused. “Wilson is pregnant?”

“Wait… You didn’t know?” Derek asked.

“Would I be reacting like this if I knew?” Meredith was shocked. There was no way one of her best friends was having a kid and she didn’t know about it. “No. There’s no way. Alex would tell me if he were having a kid. He’s one of my best friends.”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugged. “He mentioned the morning sickness so casually, it was like he assumed I already knew. That or he slipped up and didn’t realize what he said.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Meredith jumped up from the bed. “I can’t sit here wondering. I’m going over there right now to find out.”

“Meredith! It’s midnight. Don’t go bother them. You’ll see them tomorrow,” Derek tried reasoning with his wife.

“I can’t wait,” Meredith shook her head as she threw on a pair of jeans. “This is huge. This is life changing, Derek. This cannot wait until tomorrow.”

Before long, Meredith was on her way to Alex’s house. When she parked in the driveway, she searched around her purse for the old set of keys to the house. Finding them, she made her way up the porch steps and let herself in through the glass door. She walked up the porch steps and stormed into Alex’s room yelling, “You guys are having a baby?”

Alex and Jo—who’d been sleeping peacefully—startled out of sleep. Jo screamed as she saw Meredith’s dark figure lingering by the door. Alex sat up quickly, trying to assess the situation and determine if they were in any immediate danger. Finally realizing it was Meredith, he slumped back down onto the bed, “Dude. What the hell? Why are you yelling?”

“Is it true? Wilson are you pregnant? Are you guys having a baby?” Meredith interrogated.

“What?” Jo said, distraught.

“Derek said that Alex mentioned how he was happy that your morning sickness was gone, so then he asked me if I knew that you guys are having a baby.”

“Shit… I didn’t even realize I said that,” Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “Jo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to tell him.”

“It’s okay,” Jo shook her head.

“So, it is true?” Meredith asked. “You guys are having a baby! Alex, how could you have a baby and not tell me about it? This is huge!”

“What is going on?” Cristina had woken up to shouting coming from down the hall and came to investigate once she recognized her best friend’s voice.

“Did you know?” Meredith turned to Cristina.

“Did I know what?” Cristina made a face. “And why are you screaming?”

“Did you know that Alex is going to be a father?” Meredith demanded.

Cristina froze, eyes wide, “Um…”

“Oh my God! You knew and you didn’t tell me,” Meredith accused. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me this. I had to find out about it from my husband.”

“Hold on, you told Derek before telling Meredith?” Cristina looked at Alex. “That’s a crappy move, man. Even for you.”

“I didn’t mean to tell Derek,” Alex defended. “I said something about Jo’s morning sickness and he must’ve thought that Meredith already knew.”

“Hello, pregnant person over here wants to speak,” Jo gathered everyone’s attention. “Look, Dr. Grey. We didn’t want to tell anyone until I hit twelve weeks. I’m sure you can understand that. Yang found out because she lives here and saw the pregnancy test boxes in the trash, and Torres found out because I had to leave the room for an x-ray. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but if it makes you feel any better, there’s an ultrasound picture on the fridge downstairs.”

“Even Callie knows?” Meredith sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just a little blindsided finding out this way. I’m happy for you two. I’m sure you are going to make wonderful parents. Wait, you said you have an ultrasound picture already? How far along are you?”

Jo grimaced, knowing that as soon as she shared how far along the was there would be a whole new slew of questions. Jo took a deep breath, "Just a bit over ten weeks."

"How are you ten weeks? My birthday was ten weeks ago and you guys weren't together then," Meredith scrunched her face. She lowered her voice and sat down in front of Jo. "Are you sure Alex is the father?"

"Mer!" Alex chastised.

"What? I'm making a valid question," Meredith lifted her hands in apology. "As far as I remember, Alex, you and I had a conversation at my birthday party where I told you that you were being stupid and to make a move because I couldn't stand seeing you pouting and staring from afar."

"We did?" Alex asked. "I don't remember."

"Well, yeah figures, because you were completely wasted," Meredith reminded. "So, explain this to me so I can understand."

Alex and Jo both sat in silence, reluctant to verbalize what had happened that night between the two of them. Cristina, on the other hand, had been waiting for a moment like this to present itself. Bursting at the seams, Cristina blurted, "They had drunk sex the night of your party and accidently made a baby."

Meredith stood there stunned for a moment before breaking out in laughter, "Oh my... oh my God… you guys… Haha, you made a drunk sex baby. you know I can't say I'm surprised that this is how you are becoming a father, Alex. It's karma for all those years of being a man-whore. You on the other hand, Wilson, you surprise me. Didn't think you had it in you."

Jo buried her face in her hands in embarrassment and Alex glared at Meredith and Cristina as he felt his face get hot. This was not how he had pictured Meredith finding out about his kid, but he guessed that there was really no other way that would feel like them. Alex was glad that Meredith knew, because now he could ask her tons of parenting advice and tips on dealing with the hormone changes Jo would be experiencing very soon.

"Wow. I can't believe it," Meredith said after calming down. "Alex Karev. In love. A father. you're all grown up. You see, I told you that Wilson would be good for you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were right," Alex grumbled. "Now get out of my room and go home."

"I'm not going home," Meredith stated. "I'll stay with Cristina. Now, Jo you said something about an ultrasound picture?"

"Yeah... it's downstairs on the refrigerator," Jo replied, removing the hands covering her face. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about hiding it when you come over."

Meredith smiled, grabbing Cristina by the arm to drag her down the stairs to look at the sonogram. Just as Meredith was about to leave the room, she popped her head back in the doorway, "Oh and just so you know, I fully expect to get a copy of every ultrasound photo from here on out."

"Get out!" Alex huffed.

"Goodnight," Meredith grinned.

[aestheticritique]

For young men (Part 1)

In my latest lockdown induced depressive episode I have been meeting some new people online. They are all young, male, mostly heterosexual, very nice and extremely considerate. However, they also are often afraid becoming a burden, insecure in their appearance or social skills, and often struggling with mental health. Given this, they are also usually extremely afraid of never finding themselves having sex or getting into a meaningful relationship in the late stage neoliberal capitalist dystopia we find ourselves in. To be honest I didn’t understand them at first, especially their obsession with sex. But the more I am thinking about it, the more I realize that we are united in the same dynamic of seeing sex or love as magic verfication of... What?

Growing up, I used hookups as a way to prove to myself that I am worth something. I thought that my value was defined by men’s desire. I originally in writing this wanted to show my perspective from the other side of the same coin, but after realizing how much of an undertaking that would be, I decided to start with the two most common answers from men used as justification to why they think they won’t get laid. These are things I find will help these kinds of people out, but as a great thinker once said...

“I can’t mom you through this one, boys. You are on your own.” - Contrapoints

(I link songs I like through out btw, the underlined text are links you can click on)

Foreword: Social factors

The average age of first intercourse has been rising in the US. Teenagers have less sex than ever before. These changes will affect you. In teen movies and shows charakters often experiment with sexuality before the age of 18. Everything else is played as an abnormality. If we compare ourselves to this misrepresentation of teenage sexuality, of course we seem like the losers.

“The proportion of young people who have had sexual intercourse increases rapidly as they age through adolescence”. It’s very likely, at least from my view, that you are just going to grow out of the awkward zone of wanting intimacy but not getting it. Just like you grew out of other things, such as bad musical taste or that one gaudy outfit. Don’t stress over this one specifically either.

Adolescence is weird for all of us. Even if your first encounter is after college, let’s be real here: having such a good thing in your own place without your parents looming or having to share your room with a roommate you barely know is so much better anyway.

The Ugly fuck too

A common answer to my question why they think that they will never have sex is that they are “unattractive”. The implication being, that sex is the prize for looking a certain way.

But is it? We are so used to the perfect, porn-ready bodies in the media that we forget that the Ugly fuck too. We never see the foldes of fat and skin, never see acne warriors or moles, never see people who actually look like us.

In the movie “The Parasite”, there is a scene where the husband of Gook Moon-gwang, the former housekeeper, is implied to have sex. (the clip, starts at 3:00) It gave me weird feelings of discomfort, as the illusion so stereotypically found on the silver screen was not present. These two characters are not pretty. They look old. She is fat and he is a balding skeleton. They are not special, and that’s okay.

Being fuckable does not equal beauty. Being fuckable does not equal beauty. It was a terrifying thought initially for someone like me who defined their value over beauty & their beauty as being fuckable. It might also be a scary thought for someone who doesn’t think that they deserve love and intimacy because of their looks. I promise you that you still deserve love! Sex did not cure my problems with my appearance, or the fact that I based my self-esteem on the way I look. It will not make you feel normal. It will not make you feel better, prove your worth or even give you more self esteem in the long term beyond the initial rush of dopamine. It is not a caravan to fulfillment.

Beauty is a concept that is based on exclusion. Allow yourself to feel the pain of being excluded, of not reaching the impossible beauty standards and the disadvantages that come with it. Allow yourself to feel the fear of not being “man enough” and be happy in spite of it.

“Patriarchal masculinity teaches us to control our pain, but it can block us from experiencing the grief that is part of a full life. Chasing pleasure and controlling pain is patriarchal. Opening ourselves up to joy and grief is to be fully human.”

”Those of us in that skinny nerd category are especially prone to thinking that we aren’t “man enough.” [..] But the more I talked to men, the more convinced I became that almost all men at some point in their lives don’t feel man enough. Even the men I thought were the “real men” were scared.

That’s not surprising. Masculinity in patriarchy—that is, masculinity in a system of institutionalized male dominance—trains men to be competitive, in pursuit of conquest, which leads to routine confrontation, with the goal of always being in control of oneself and others. But no matter how intensely competitive one is, no matter how complete the conquest, no matter how many successful confrontations, and no matter how much one stays in control—men are haunted by the fear that they aren’t man enough, that they can never stop proving their masculinity.” - Robert Jensen

Stop comparing your appearance to other men’s. Start talking and bonding with them over your undoubtably shared insecurities rooted in society’s relentless toxic masculinity. Unlearning the things you’ve been indoctrinated into since conception is damn hard. I am still in the middle of it personally, but I promise you it is worth it. It will improve not only your relationships with other men, but also with yourself and that one girl you’re pining after.

There are a ton of resources targeted at women about self acceptance, but not many for men. Robert Jenson comes from a tradition of critical men’s groups. Even though I don’t agree with him on everything, he manages to scare most men (especially the kind I mentioned in the first paragraph) to their core, but also improves their lives drastically with his kindness and radical ideas. I implore you to look him up, and try your best to keep an open mind.

“A person who functions normally in a sick society is themselve sick.”

The other most common answer  to the initial question was “being socially maladjusted”, implying that sex is something you earn by behaving a certain way. It is ingrained in the way we talk about love. “Deserving love” is the best example. Neither love nor sex is a product of work. Love and intimacy are a lot like sleep. It is a slow but unconscious process. You slowly work into it, with no idea of what comes next, and then, after an agonizingly long moment, you’re there. The fall is not often expected or easy, is always exhilarating, but never the product of conformity to anything except comfort with who you are.

I do acknowledge that social settings can be weird, existentially unsettling, and full of unseen complexities. This is especially true if you are neurodivergent and / or struggling with mental health.  Being neurodivergent or struggling with mental health goes against the impossible, hegemonically masculine standard of always being in controll. It’s a common cause behind feelings of emasculation. Disregard that feeling, and remember that you deserve love, no matter how manly you are or are not, no matter how you behave.

Learning social settings are lot like learning to skate. In the beginning you will be covered in bruises, but with enough effort, you will be better at it. The chance of mistakes will get lower, but never zero. You will always have awkward situations, but that doesn’t mean that you are bad at them. It just means that you have room to improve still. Maybe consider getting lessons or joining a skate crew.

We tend to hyperfocus on the accidents. Think about how many nice conversations you had over the internet, text or otherwise. I ask you to value them. Value these positive experiences, value your friendships and acquaintances, value the people supporting you, online and offline. We tend to hyperfocus on meaningfull longterm friendships, just like we hyperfocus on love. Value your social enviroment, value someone who just made you feel ok for a moment. You are socially adapted, because you have a social enviroment you feel comfortable in, where you have relationships with people. The depth of a relationship is not messured by time, nor by physical touch. Being mindful of your feelings for the people around you can make you realize that you are less alone than you thought.

Some Tips

If you want to make friends additionally to that, here are some tips from someone, who is bad at social clues:

Join a group with a common interest or struggle: Book clubs, activist groups, selfhelp groups, they are great settings to meet new people and you already have a topic to talk about :)

If you feel save about it: Being open about your issues can help other people adapt to you and understand you better - especially in early on in relationships.

People sitting at the bar or smoking outside are generally more open for conversation

Don’t be afraid of getting rejected: They don’t reject you, when they reject a conversation with you. The reasons people don’t want to talk to you is very diverse. Stay respectful and polite.

Don’t expect to much: No one owes you a long conversation. A smalltalk is perfectly fine.

Learn to make compliments casually and learn to compliments that aren’t based on appearance.

Find a common ground (politically, a interest ect.) and talk about it

Take a improv class, seriously TAKE A IMPROV CLASS! (there are online ones, and sometimes it’s even free)

Here are some youtube videos by Anna Akana with more tips. (1) conversations, (2) how to be a better friend, (3) overthinking

Here are is a piece about being bad at relationship I liked.

Footnote: Trophies and muses

“We do not want to do the work of helping you to believe in your humanity. We cannot do it anymore. We have always tried. We have been repaid with systematic exploitation and systematic abuse. You are going to have to do this yourselves from now on and you know it.” - Andrea Dowkin

Behind the whole obsession with sex is often a distorted perception of women. Just remind yourself that women are human? Access to female bodies is not a human right. We are not trophies to push your ego. We are not there to inspire you or heal you. We are humans with agency. We desire love and being loved, just like everyone else.

I am tired, but I believe in your humanity...

xoxo,

aestheticritique

[emospritelet]

Festive prompt : Fragile verse - 54 “You look - festive”

I’m still trying to finish up my festive prompts, so this is chapter 2 of 3 of this teacher/student Rushbelle. Last time, Belle wanted to talk about the night of passion they shared before the start of the school year, and Rush wanted her to forget the entire thing. It’s Christmas Eve, and a knock on Rush’s door brings an unexpected visitor. Please check AO3 for tags - Belle is 18.

[AO3 link] [Chapter 1]

x

Rush realised he was staring, and blinked twice.

“Miss French,” he said coolly. “What are you doing here?”

Belle pulled a face, glancing around uncomfortably.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said. “I couldn’t bear sitting in the house watching my dad drink until he passes out. Again.”

“Yes, but why come here?” he asked. “Surely your friends are all out celebrating.”

She sighed, mouth flattening.

“Yeah, they are,” she said. “That’s kind of the problem. They’re all out dancing and singing Christmas songs and having the time of their lives.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think I can put on an act for the whole evening,” she said. “I figured you were probably as lonely and miserable as I was, and you wouldn’t care if I wasn’t smiling and happy and full of the festive spirit. You gonna let me in?”

Rush sighed heavily.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, neither is drinking alone, brooding over shit you can’t fix and letting yet another Christmas pass you by while you dwell on the past and wonder when the hell your life went down the toilet.”

His mouth twitched.

“Have you been looking through my window, or something?”

“Didn’t need to,” she said, and put her head to the side. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Well then.”

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling awkward.

“You know, my neighbour is having a party,” he said. “Why don’t you go and knock on his door? He’d welcome you in with open arms, I’m sure.”

“The guy with the top hat?” She smiled ruefully. “He yelled out of the window that I was gorgeous and offered me a drink.”

“Well then.”

“Like I said, not really in the party mood.” Belle shifted from foot to foot. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to see, but we kind of left things on a - weird - note, and I wanted to fix it. You’re the only person I know that can understand how I’m feeling about everything. Sorry if that means I make you uncomfortable.”

Rush let out a sigh. It’s not her fault. None of this is her fault. None of it’s anyone’s fault, really. A mistake, that’s all.

“You don’t,” he said. “It’s - it’s not your fault I’m uncomfortable, is it? It’s the situation.”

“I guess.”

She looked thoroughly miserable, and Rush could feel himself wanting to do something about it, wanting to help her. He stepped back, holding open the door.

“Alright,” he said. “Come on in.”

Belle smiled briefly, and stepped past him into the apartment. He closed the door behind her, wondering what the hell he was doing. She was shrugging out of her coat, and beneath it she wore a knitted red dress trimmed with white faux fur to match the hat on her head.

“You look - festive,” he remarked, and she shrugged, looking around the apartment.

“More than can be said for this place,” she said. “Don’t you celebrate?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Fair enough.” Belle draped her coat over the arm of the couch and sat down, looking up at him expectantly. “You got anything to drink?”

“Your fake I.D. isn’t gonna work on me this time,” he said, in a dry tone, and she rolled her eyes.

“Come on, it’s Christmas, give me a break.”

“I’ve only got whisky.”

“That’ll do.”

Rush shrugged, and went to pour her a glass, topping up his own. Belle took the glass with a smile of thanks, taking a sip and wrinkling her nose a little at the taste. Perhaps she didn’t like it. Perhaps she would decide that Jefferson’s party would yield more in the way of distractions, and leave. He wasn’t sure whether it would be a relief or not. She slumped onto the couch, whisky sloshing in the glass, and after a moment of debating whether he should take the chair, he sat down next to her.

“So,” she said. “This is your Christmas Eve, huh?”

“Beats last year,” he said.

“What did you do last year?”

“Drank myself into oblivion, mostly.”

“Oh.” She raised a brow, followed by her glass. “Well, the night is young.”

Rush barked a laugh at that, and took a sip of his drink.

“I’m not gonna repeat it, don’t worry.”

“Don’t care if you do,” she said. “I’ll just put you in the recovery position and bugger off home.”

“Good to know.”

“Just don’t expect me to clean up after you,” she added. “Get enough of that at home, thanks.”

Rush wasn’t sure whether their conversation was amusing or depressing, and decided to change the subject.

“Have you made any decisions on college yet?” he asked, and her mouth twisted. She took another drink.

“I’m staying in Boston.”

“Oh, well, Boston’s a good university,” he said. “What are you gonna study?”

Belle was silent for a moment. She took a drink of her whisky and sat back, not quite looking at him.

“I’m not,” she said. “At least - at least not just yet. I’m gonna look for work. Things have been pretty tight lately, and I can’t really afford college on top of that, you know?”

“Oh.” He took a sip of whisky. “Any idea what job you want?”

“One that pays actual Earth money, for sure,” she said. “Internships may be the way to a bright future, but they’re only for people who’ve never stressed over making rent or putting food in the cupboards. So I guess I’ll be learning how to make coffee and serve up burgers and fries real soon.”

That was a shame. He knew how daunting the thought of a large student loan must be, but it seemed a pity to let such a bright young mind wither under the strain of holding down whatever minimum wage job she managed to get.

“What does your father say about it?” he asked, and she sighed. 

“Given the terrible state of the college fund he was supposed to be keeping for me, I doubt he’s given it much thought.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing it didn’t sound so trite.

“Well, I wouldn’t be the first person who had to make their own way in this world,” she said, with what seemed to be an attempt at positivity. “Isn’t this supposed to be the land where anyone can make it if they try hard enough? Or is that just what it used to be?”

“I’m not sure it ever was,” he said, taking a drink. “Not if you start with nothing, anyway.”

“Yeah.” 

Belle lapsed into silence, gazing into her drink. The muffled sound of Christmas music was coming through the walls from Jefferson’s party, punctuated with shrieks of laughter. It made a strange contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the apartment.

“Will you celebrate tomorrow?” he asked, and she pulled a face.

“I’ll cook a turkey and trimmings, and Dad’ll eat it,” she said. “He might even do the washing up, if his hangover isn’t too bad. Then I guess he’ll drink his way down another bottle of cheap bourbon while he watches terrible television and falls asleep in his chair.”

“Sounds like a difficult situation for you to deal with.”

Belle sighed, sitting back.

“He’s not a bad person,” she said. “Just - kind of lost. Broken. I guess it’s hard to see a way out when you’re looking at a wall the whole time.”

“Doesn’t help you though, does it?”

“Why do you think I’m here, and not there?” she asked wryly.

Why are you here? Why are you really here?

“Has your father considered getting any professional help for his grief?” he asked, and she took a sip of whisky, sending him a long look.

“Have you?”

Rush pulled a face, and she gave him a knowing smile.

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

“Not sure whether talking would help,” he admitted.

“Talking almost always helps,” she said. “Better form of therapy than drinking.”

“Or casual sex with strangers?”

Belle’s mouth flattened.

“That wasn’t therapy,” she said. “It was - solace, I suppose.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose it was.”

Silence fell again. He finished his whisky, and debated whether to pour another. A pleasant warmth had settled in his body, a light-headed looseness as he began to relax. Belle drained her glass, licking her lips.

“If you’re having another, I wouldn’t say no,” she said.

Fuck it. What harm can it do?

He got up to fetch the bottle, pouring a measure for each of them, and sat down next to her again. Belle stretched out her legs with a sigh, sinking further back into the cushions.

“You said you moved up here from California,” she said. “Do you miss it?”

“The weather here matches my mood more,” he said, and she chuckled.

“Well, I guess there’s that,” she said. “Will you go back?”

“Eventually,” he said. “It’s only a sabbatical.”

“Has it helped?”

He thought about that for a moment.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “But it’s still too early to go back. Maybe I’ll stay another year, if I’m needed.”

“You could always try somewhere else,” she suggested. “Another university, I mean, not a school. Total change of scene. You could go back to Scotland.”

“Maybe.”

He rolled the glass between his fingers, watching the light gleam in the amber depths of the whisky. Jefferson’s guests were now singing Happy Holiday, loud and off-key but cheerfully, and it was making him feel even more morose. He curled his lip a little, lifting his glass to take a drink. Belle glanced across at him.

“Do you want to go to bed?” she asked, and Rush almost choked on his whisky.

“What?” he spluttered, eyes watering.

“Never mind.”

She settled back against the cushions, chewing her lip, and Rush put down his glass, wiping a few stray droplets of whisky from his shirt. There was a moment of silence before she turned to look at him again.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Rush stared at her, and she met his gaze, raising her chin a little as though preparing to counter whatever argument he could come with. 

“Is this you seeking more solace?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Maybe. Is that bad?”

“I’m not sure you should be seeking it with me, that’s all,” he said. “Why don’t you find someone your own age?”

“Because I know with you it’ll be good, that’s why.”

Rush grumbled under his breath.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly.

“Two times in four months isn’t exactly a habit, is it?”

“Belle…” He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face.

“Is that a no?”

Rush slumped back, turning his head to gaze at her. She had put down her glass and turned onto her side a little, nestled on the couch with her knees drawn up, big-eyed and sad. He felt a powerful urge to protect her, to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. There was a less altruistic urge there too, an urge to kiss her sweet mouth, to pull her into his bed and lose himself in her soft heat again. Belle reached up, one warm hand cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking over the stubble with a soft, rasping sound.

“If you don’t want me, just tell me to go,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“I can’t do that,” he said softly.

“Then can I stay?”

Rush swallowed hard, his heart thumping. She licked her lips a little nervously, and his eyes followed the pass of her tongue, watching the gleam of saliva on her plump lower lip. He badly wanted to kiss her, and she seemed to sense it, her breath coming harder, her eyes growing dark. He reached up to stroke a stray hair back from her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, and Belle leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm as her eyes locked on his.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He leaned in, fingers sliding into her hair as his mouth found hers, his tongue gently sliding between her soft lips. The taste of her sparked a memory of having her in his bed, of being deep inside her, feeling her clench around him as she came. He let out a low groan, deepening the kiss, and Belle ran her hands up his chest and shoulders to sink into his hair as her tongue stroked against his. She moaned, shifting to press herself against him, and the kiss grew messy and frantic, his lips sliding against hers as his cock hardened in his jeans. Belle pulled her mouth free with a gasp, and he tried to catch his breath, hands cradling her head and his forehead pressed to hers. He could feel her breath, cool against his wet lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Take me to bed,” she breathed. “Take me to bed and fuck me hard.”

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep10 pt2: Yugi’s Never Ceasing Commute Continues

Last we left off, it was time to eat. Thank you. Thank you, Yugioh. You get me.

Not one of their better spreads, TBH.

No cheese wheels, too. They are truly living in hard times.

(read more under the cut)

Rex and Weevil decided to look for rare cards in the rubble of Arthur Hawkin’s house.

I don’t know why they bothered with this, everything was very clearly exploded and on fire, but youknow, these two just seem to be very hellbent on being bad at life. Just two jokes that are here just to be jokes, wearing these duel disks that they’re not going to use until it’s finally time for them to betray us. Checkov’s jokes.

And I hate to say this but they really are this season’s Bakura.

I know I just said that.

But this show really likes having at least one character that might turn at any moment and stab our protagonist in the back. They like to have at least one at all times there, hovering over Yugi’s oblivious shoulders, with that figurative knife (or literal, in the case of that time when Bakura stabbed himself without nearly any provocation).

In the past, when Bakura was out to lunch, we would have betraying friends like Kaiba, who would go solo in the middle of his own card game and end up throwing everyone in danger, and also Tristan who got full on possessed by the Big 5 and tried to murder everyone, but I guess after 4 seasons they were like “Youknow...I think Kaiba got over it.” and like...you can’t have Rebecca stab us in the back so lets bring Rex and Weevil.

At least their showtime is minimal, because unlike Bakura, who is pretty likeable even when he’s being an asshole, Rex and Weevil never turn off the asshole and are mostly just visual gags stumbling over eachother. Bakura was quite clever and had a bit of depth and mystery, while I don’t think Rex and Weevil are smart enough to even know how to spell mystery.

And if Rex and Weevil end up being good guys and the saviors of the whole show then my sincere apologies, but they are still kind of grating.

Now Rebecca gets a duel monster’s card that has a death threat on it, which is probably the normal way to sign your duel monsters cards in this universe. I imagine every card in Yugi’s deck has a couple death threats on each of them by now. Probably makes them more lucky.

Ya so...

I can forgive this. The people who made this looked at a map of California, forgot that California is roughly the same size as Japan, and were like “I mean, there’s like 50 states, it can’t be that big.”

But here’s the thing about Death Valley. I am a Californian, but I have never been there. This is why.

Death Valley is ASS to get to. Barely anyone lives there. Nothing goes there. You can’t just take a train, you have to drive there by going south past it and then turning around. It’s real round about and just in the middle of nowhere. May as well get there by flying into Las Vegas, and if you are flying into Las Vegas, chances are slim that you will leave that Vacation Town USA to vacation in a literal desert.

Clearly they saw the name “Death Valley” and got super excited but y’all...there’s a reason why we call it that, and everyone who knows about geography or is a Californian is kind of like “um...is Yugi...going to Death Valley???? That city slicker?”

Cuz this is not a normal desert. Normally, a human can survive 3 days without water, in Death Valley you apparently can only survive for 14 hours. It is the lowest point in the US and also the hottest point in the US and the place where the highest temperature was ever recorded on the Earth. And while that heat is only for 5 months of the year...it’s not winter in the show, is it? It’s fairly warm. San Fransisco wasn’t even foggy?

Like even the Death Valley website is like “please don’t leave the main roads and hike during the hot months” because y’all, this park is damn serious. Like this is one of the only National Parks that has not just one, but multiple ghost towns in it.

Don’t get me wrong, Death Valley’s very pretty and very fun I’ve heard, and it has like a very fancy dayspa in it, and if you like geography and like to rough it, then you will absolutely love how freakin weird Death Valley is. So, if you’re safe and know how to pack your gear, you’ll have no problem, but...Y’all, Yugi Muto, who barely survived Pegasus’ island (and only because Mai fed him) is going to just casually go into Death Valley.

In that outfit.

Then, in some barn somewhere (I have NO IDEA where this exchange takes place) Rafael is grilling Arthur only to realize that this is a very pointless conversation.

And in case you forgot Darts exist, he’s still out there, murdering people off for kicks. we’ll just add 20 more to the death count, the internet told me that’s the average amount of people on a fish boat of average size (although sometimes this boat seemed like the size of a shipping container barge but youknow...)

And in case you missed it, I have been doing the death counter wrong so I was 2 people behind--it’s correct now. With the rate this show goes I feel like we might see death 666 eventually. But, yes we did pass 269 so we’ll have to wait another 100, I guess, because it went to some rando on this boat. Nice.

(The highest surface temperature of Death Valley ((not the air, but the ground)) ever recorded, was 201° F.)

(That’s 94° C for those in the back.)

I mean Yugi is part Pharaoh so I guess he just has a strong attraction to really terrible deserts. He’s also half a dead guy so maybe he also just has a strong attraction to being dead.

But I dunno, maybe this is the months of the year where Death Valley is manageable? Maybe? Possibly? We’ll just assume that it is.

Now you can go horseback riding in Death Valley, as you can in any National Park, but it isn’t real normal to ride your horse all the way from San Fransisco. And like you can’t even let your dog off a leash in Death Valley. This is such a bad park for pets!

Also, I found out some fun facts about horse travel, for anyone interested in writing fantasy and wants to know the average speed of a horse.

So a horse can go about 100 miles in a day, but only for one day. If you do 250 miles, the time has to be more spread out since you must recharge your horse. According to some horse-specialist on the internet who does horse marathons from coast to coast, if you have to do 500 miles, then you average about 24 miles a day, accounting for horse-recovery time and assuming it’s a horse that wasn’t bred for super long distances. (this is about a 500 mi horse ride, ps)

The pony express of old, the iconic Wells Fargo, would actually have horse stations along the prairie, where you would trade in your tired horse for a new horse, so that way you would never have to stop going 100 miles in a day. Since Yugi never changed his horse, this ride would have been absolutely ridiculous, and Copernicus the horse, would have stopped somewhere in Gilroy.

But this is a kid’s show so wtv, we’re gonna ignore that.

(reminder that Yugi decided not to unhitch the perfectly serviceable truck and drive away with air conditioning.)

And Yugi really did make Rebecca promise not to tell these much older teens that he took off (something about how he doesn’t want to put more people in danger yada yada, normal Yugi stuff), but the show kind of blames this on Rebecca...but like...she’s 12. This one is on Yugi.

But, if Rebecca were older, maybe she would have done the same thing. Rebecca seems like maybe the type that realizes that when you like an idiot boy, you gotta let them do idiot things, and make idiot mistakes. You can’t just control what your friends do all the time, unlike this crew, which is controlling because that is the only way they keep eachother alive.

So Joey decides to ignore both of the cars right next to him, and just book it to save his stupid ass friend. On foot. To Death Valley. From what the show insisted was just outside San Fransisco.

And I guess that Rafael decided to just let Hawkins go?

Probably because Yugi got on a horse and Rafael was like “of course I know Yugi is chasing me on horseback off the main roads. Of course I know that.” and then he just...let Hawkins walk all the way back...

Hawkins should be dead, but not yet.

So lets check out Death Valley.

So like...again I just think they probably boarded everything and had a rough idea of “America has a bunch of natural canyons, right?” and didn’t realize that the Grand Canyon was soooo far from California.

There are actually canyons in Death Valley but like...I dunno if the art matches that so much? They aren’t nearly as massive as the canyon situation farther East.

Again this was their art choice that they made and it’s...a choice. And they committed to it.

And this bike thing happened?

This tandem bicycle for children lost among the wreckage of Rebecca Hawkin’s home is like a whole “baby shoes, never worn” short story in itself. Rebecca has nooo siblings or parents, right? She has a really old grandpa who is like 80 and doesn’t bike? Just uh...bringing that up...was this tandem bike for her to hang out with Yugi? Does Rebecca even have friends her own age? She already graduated college.

So much inferred by the bike that I know is just here because it’s a funny joke to see Rex and Weevil on a stupid tandem bike.

So I’ve heard about the bike/car/horse paradox before in regards to this season, (it’s one of the few things I knew about this season before going in) so I’m happy to see I’ve recapped enough Yugioh to see it play out.

The paradox being, if Yugi is on horseback, and Rex and Weevil are on a bike, and the rest are in a car, who arrives first?

Apparently the show itself isn’t even sure because Rex and Weevil can keep up with a horse???

Anyway, the correct answer to the paradox is that everyone not in a car is dead for not bringing any water.

Everyone except for Raphael, who probably put a camel pack into each of his shoulder pads.

OH NOW IT’S AN ANIME.

I don’t get why this is happening. But it’s a thing now. Rafael has either literal or metaphoric wings. Bear in mind I thought Pharaoh was Metaphoric for like 14 episodes. These Icarus wings might just be real. Rafael might have been a card this entire time, and I wouldn’t even blink.

Anyway, if this is your first post of mine you’ve seen of this, my apologies, we’re in S4 and this is very confusing. You can read from S1 ep 1 in chrono order by clicking this very handy link here!

[123dragonage]

Angelica Cousland.

Full Name:

Angelica Cousland

Nickname/Alias: 

Ange, Angel, Elica, Cousland, Lady, My lady, My lady Cousland.

Meaning: 

Variant spelling of Anglo-Saxon unisex Aglæca, meaning both "demon, monster, fiend," and "hero, warrior."

Title:

Cousland, My lady, My lady Cousland, Lady. Dìonadair fir is boireannaich - Defender of men and woman.

Pet Name: 

sònraich - Ange. Aingeal - Angel. Dìonadair - Defender.

Gender: 

Female.

Gender Role:

More Male than Female.

Class: 

Warrior - Big Sword.

Orientation: 

Straight.

Real Age: 

20.

Age Appearance: 

18.

Birthday: 

May 22.

Birthplace: 

Highever Castle.

Zodiac Sign: 

Gemini.

Love Interest:

Alistair Theirin.

Immediate Family: 

Father:

Bryce Cousland.

Mother:

Eleanor Mac Eanraig.

Brother:

Fergus Cousland

Sister in law:

Oriana.

Nephew:

Oren Cousland

Ethnicity: 

Alamarri and a Fereldan.

Facial Type: 

Heart.

 Eye Colour: 

 Baby blue, with a forest green ring around it.

Hair Colour:

Black.

Hairstyle:  

Angelica has gained her father's ruly side of her hair, while it isn't there now because of age he previously had very curly hair. Though not black, she gained his style of hair with her thick curly waves framing her face. She had it up in a tight bun with a few curls falling in front of her face, but casually it is left down because she is comfortable with it on cool days.

Makeup: 

Since her look has a strong dark edge to it. Angelica viewed herself as a tomboy, not a girly woman who enjoyed pink. Red has always been something she enjoyed, usually, her eyeshadow is dark underlines with some dark grey and light sliver blended in. On good occasion, her lips were painted red, bright red or darkened red depending on the festivities. If it was normal however, she painted them like her skin and made sure it was a fairly faint color of red.

Appearance:

X

X

X

X

X

X.

Body Type: 

Fit - Strong built, but still curvy.

Build: 

Her strong build fits the heavy swords so she has some muscles to her stomach and arms, her legs too.

Distinguishing Features: 

Her hair and eyes.

Posture: 

Stiff, lady-like.

Scent: 

Lavender and different types of fruit.

Heroes:

Alistair, in childhood. (Find out.).

Pets/Familiars: 

Hawke - Gin.

Wardrobe examples:

F-o-r-m-a-l. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. B-a-l-l-r-o-o-m. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. F-i-g-h-t-i-n-g. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. C-a-s-u-a-l O-u-t-f-i-t-s. D-a-n-c-i-n-g. O-u-t-f-i-t-s. N-i-g-h-t w-e-a-r.

Equipment/Weapons: 

Cousland sword.

Third class sword.

Second class sword.

First class sword.

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

Cousland Shield.

Accessories:

-Anklet - from

Rivain

 woman. -Hair pin - Red mist

-Oren's handmade

rose bracelet.

-Mother's wedding ring.

-Stashed

scrunchy.

-Mother's handmade circlet.

-Mother's crystal comb.

-Another crystal, never worn.

-Rose

collection.

-Heirloom brooch.

-Hidden circlet from her traveling days.

-The personal ring she always wore.

-Set of earrings usually hidden with her hair. On one side, the right.

-another pair of dangling earrings. The left side.

-Locket with the picture of the family in it.

Element:

Wind or earth.

(Undecided.)

Biggest Failure:

Leaving her family to tour the world before she settled down to be married. When she was young her father found her to be too free among them, but she couldn't bring herself to deny the enjoyment of life. Leaving them a note she left at the age of sixteen and came back when she was twenty-one before their deaths came around. 

Secrets:

Has a strong dislike for bugs, she came off as a strong woman with her choice of class. Obviously, this was something she tried to keep to herself.

Hobbies/Interests: 

-Flamenco Dancing. -Belly Dancing. -Roman Havasi. -Russian Romani Dance. -A little singing. -Playing the lute. -Jewel collecting. -Making handmade jewellery and accessories like her nephew did. -Poetry reading. -Basic cooking.

Skills/Talents:

-Hand to hand chores from childhood. -Cooking, making anything basic delicous. -Giving out advise for those that need it. -Tending to children and animals. -Giving out speeches. -Acting casual and then back to her formal self. -Dancing and singing. -Playing the lute and flute. -Hidden her real feelings about things. -Acting. -Jewellery collecting. -Poetry making.

Likes: 

-Music, -Dancing, -Being free, -Remembering the good times she had with her family and not the bad. -Large weapons, -Singing a little, -Poetry, -Reading, -Writing poetry, -Jewels. -Hand making jewellery, -Cooking, -Meeting people, -Having a smile on during tough times. -Camping out. -Making fun of nobles. -Fencing/duelling between nobles. -Hard work.

Dislikes: 

-Anyone not willing to have some fun, or party, so very serious people are not well liked by her. -Lazy people. -Seeing how many nobles are just that in title and not noble at all. Angelica believed more commoners are nobles. -Anyone hating music, period. If you hate it she'll give out a lecture and then question how you can hate it. -Ballroom dancing, at times. -Someone making fun of her dances. -Her father being put down from his death bed or her mother. -Howe - more like despises.  -Burnt food. -Being locked in a place with walls or anything like a wall around her.  -Jewels being crushed to be sold. -Bad poetry. -Her acting not working around people.

Pet Peeves: 

-Laziness. -Being around people too serious. -Horrible poetry. -Being forced to talk about things she plans to keep hidden.

-Children being taught to fight at a very young age.

-Parents yelling at there children.

-Children abuse.

-Animal abuse.

-Girly girls complaining too much.

Personality:

Angelica has always been adaptable, easygoing, and flexible by nature. She is always willing to try new things at least once in life. While she might go along with any plans there is always small doubts in her head that she will voice just in case, by then she is always prepared for change whether it is beneficial for everyone or not. Due to her carefree nature she knows how to fit herself in any group and situation. This heir is considered very sociable and she learned to enjoy parties. In the past staying home was very boring for her, Rather she would like to be out and about learning new things. Besides always have interesting things to say and can easily strike up conversations with strangers. Angelica is known as the popular girl of the group and can be a soft touch when talking to people. Learning to laugh was the best thing in the world, with a sharp wit and the possess of an extremely dry and sarcastic sense of humour; the usual jokes and quick-witted response may fly right over the heads of some. The individuals who can actually keep up with her train of thought and intelligence often find it hilarious. Being a  charmer as her mind works very fast and draws information from eclectic resources. This gives her many opportunities to deliver a quick-witted slap and ironical responses. The one thing Angelica is proud of is her funny gigs, these are often the camps entertainment or leading toward it. The group will end up depressed during there thoughtful state and stressed state of mind.  If that isn't all she is considered enthusiastic and full of life and always crave for accomplishing new and interesting things. However,

 Angelica's enthusiasm is infectious at times. She is

 always a little ahead of others, her mind is always working fast and she shares her thoughts with the people around her at the time. As a cousland she highly smart and intelligent. Not everything is horrible, at least there is always a chance of her saying interesting things. Angelica is shockingly a person who will have a book in your hand or involved in an activity which gives you information and updates her knowledge.

 She can instantaneously see the 360-degree picture of any situation before making decisions for the next move. Mostly she wins in arguments and debates.

 She considers herself the most versatile person. capable of handling multiple things at a time and excel in each. Plus multi-tasking quality helps her indulge in many things and balance between them all. After a while people learn her interest vary due to keenness and curiosity of getting knowledge and learning new things.

 However,  she gets bored easily. Angelica has proven that you don't have to be a rogue, to be a master of  manipulating things in order to make others follow your shoes. 

Angelica is often anxious and nervous during certain major events of life like moving or changing careers and marriage and unable to make the right decision. She doesn't take life seriously and act very childish at times. However, this is mostly a face. She also tends to get overly anxious about any important event of her life. Her energies are imbalanced and she keeps her stress and emotions inside of herself which makes her feel anxious.

Symbol: 

Cousland Crest.

Vice: 

Jealousy.

Virtue:

Hope.

Major Events.

Age 0-2 (Infancy):

The Cousland family were equally happy with there son, Fergus. However every parent wants a girl and boy in there life.  On the other hand her brother also wanted to have a little sister he could protect himself. Boys, thinking that ever girl in there life is going to need someone to protect 'them'. Hardly, On the season of the blooming roses a young girl was born when both Bryce and Eleanor tried to relax on vacation in Redcliffe, it was the one place they could trust anyone in during there moments of depression. A tiny baby, was born at midnight with the loudest cry they had ever heard. Everyone just knew she was going to be a spoiled little girl when she grew into a woman - Some might say that the father was a little scared of what might come of it. Ange; Also known as Angelica was very loud, cried constantly for there attention and when she didn't get her way she cried. At times her brother would be confused over her, the emotional stress the child gave them became hard fast. However, no one could deny that her smile wasn't something they wouldn't give to miss if they didn't cheer baby Angelica up, she grew well. Stayed by her mothers side or her brother and played with Fergus and the kings son at the time.

Ages 3-9 (Childhood):

When she came to the age of around three her curiosity got the best of her a lot. Mostly in the sword fighting and gems, her mother would look at form any merchant offering his wares. Her eyes would sparkle and her mouth would be making 'Ohhh!' sounds without hiding it from her mother like any other girl would do she became rather into her mother's handmade jewels and watched her days on end.  It was possible she enjoyed pretty things, or maybe she just wondered what she was doing with them at the time - Either way she learned something that wouldn't leave her. At the age of four, she followed her father around the house and grow more attached. He did everything with her when he could. As a child, she cried whenever he had to leave her at home, and sat on his lap whenever he read to her. Then the age of five made her start her dancing and singing, randomly picking dances during the parties or fair and singing along with tunes when her mother would sing or something else. When trouble with the king brought his son around she spent time watching them fight battles, asking questions to her father from six to nine of age, so much that she promised to be just like her mother and father. The parents were both worried and touched.

Ages 10-16 (Teens):

During the age of ten, Angelica became so interested in the battles that she begged her father to teach her some basics or at least train her to get stronger to handle things. Bryce said no, repeatedly, and her mother tried to soothe her tears and annoyance over this. The issue was that she was a lady, but her mother was the battle maiden herself. Is it so bad she wanted to learn to do something she was into? Safe to say, the silent treatment and refusing to spend time with him was the key to her success when she turned eleven he gave into her hard chores for two years and Angelica was more than happy to do that. So, for a few years, she spent time with nan and did basic cooking, preparation and did any stocking for her and nan was rather evil with that cane so whenever she slacked it was fixed. Not badly or harsh in any sense, but still. Then she helped her mother with her tea parties, decorating, maid work and finally she did basic training with her brother and father with her small body that was limited. Still, getting used to it was hard for those two years. So, at the age of fourteen, she grew up enough to do her lessons of being noble and began learning fencing for her dueling lessons. She was quick and listened intensely, light swords were simple to use, however, her father noted on her lack of enthusiasm and took her to his study one day. The issue was everything she did make her zoom out. The fast dueling and mocking other nobles, she could enjoy that and all. However, she had little interest on taking it full time - That was when her father got some idea of what she could do, the next day she was taken to the training area in the courtyard when the men were fighting each other. The two spent time watching them until Angelica asked him more about the big sword; there was also sword and shield, but that seemed boring to herself as well and she preferred the most challenging one there. Against his better judgement, he taught her harder things to build up the muscle she needed to weigh or move efficiently while holding such a sword. Each day, Bryce witnessed her sweating on the field and grinning when they pushed her down to after she won a fight. She continued this until she mastered the sword at the age of sixteen.

Ages 16- 21 (Adulthood):

Sixteen of age and she formed into a good warrior, with a few extra problems along with it. Usually at this time girls are rather rebellious and she was no different from them she guessed, although. She did think it was her forming out her own path so she could grow the way she wanted. Her father refused to see her as a woman and it was driving her insane, no matter what reason he had for it. Enough was enough, right? When she had her sixteenth birthday she came to her mother and told her the trouble she was having with her father. Eleanor might seem strict, but she went through the same thing with his protective nature and jealousy, even feared her little girl would gain it due to her looks going to his family at the time. While her mother was on his side.... Or tried to be to keep the peace. Angelica knew she could get him to see her way, for the moment at least. It was the afternoon she decided to gather the family for a announcement with her mother encouraging her to speak up. Her eyes went to Fergus, he grinned and nodded his head - Along with his family who grew to stick to her during there stay with them. Right. It was just Bryce Cousland, her father. No big deal, right?  That night was one of the emotional nights she had ever had with her family, Oren, her nephew cried for her to stay and her father fumed at her for thinking of leaving. However, in her eyes they didn't need her when they had Fergus and if anything happened it would be because she was caught off guard. Her brother knew she was good at fighting and so did her father. Eventually, she got fed up and told him enough is enough, claiming she was grown into a teenager at least and should take her own time to grow, not have him hover. The room grew silent and everyone looked worried, glancing between Angelica and Bryce who stared at her with wide eyes, and finally clenched teeth and his shocked expression faded. It was close enough to saying she hated him. Though it could have been a over reaction on his part, Angelica never looked back on the day and got ready to leave. He never came to see her off with her mother, but Eleanor claimed its hard to see his little girl go.

Trivia:

-Her father and herself grew distant when she left.She never got the chance to say she was sorry, or even try and talk to him before finding them dead on the floor. -She has a known love for jewels and handmade things.Maybe it was just in memory of her nephew.

-Learned to smile no matter the cost. Angelica is also known to act.Even though things seem dire, she isn't going to show it unless someone brings it up.

-The Cousland worked around hard work when she was a little girl. Her father thought of her as his darling girl, which made it rather hard to join in with the hard work. However, being his favourite also made it wonderful considering her 'Puppy Dog' eyes worked wonders on him. She worked through normal chores with her Nan and was watched over rather well with her siblings. -Angelica is good with light weight swords, but she found them too easy for her and unlike her mother she followed  the path of a broad sword instead. She might be a little girl, but smashing insolent... Things appealed to her mother than anything. However, there was just something about going on a duel and humiliating a noble, considering they have more ignorance than nobility in them. -During her younger years she spent much time with her brother and the king, pulling pranks on everyone. Till this day, she couldn't give up the fun and found it as a useful cure for worries and anything else on there mind. -Camping has always been a favourite, which is why she seemed so comfortable and knowledgeable during there adventures. -Angelica is in fact girly, just a bit with her jewels collection. -In her spare time or when her mind has too many things going on, she settles for writing poetry. -Rivain was a place of dance and music, party, she found it enjoyable to go there when she was a younger girl. It learned her to always smile to make the difficulty ease off a little, the dancing was so rich and new she learned it until she had perfection of it. Her father disapproved of the place due to there non-serious way of living, which ended there relationship since she left anyway. -Nan and her mother dragged her to cook when she was just a little girl. During that time she learned the basics of cooking, but fell into her fighting and other chores so she never tried cooking for everyone. Some things just stick to you. -The flute was more known with the city elves at home, she learned that from them and found herself playing it when she can't sleep. The lute on the other hand, was taught to her by a woman in Rivain. -She adores birds; her Hawke was given to her by the same Rivain woman. Gin is very protective and tends to attack others nearby for fun. On the other hand it likes Morrigan more than Alistair.

Theme song(s):

[eldritchsurveys]

862.

1. have you ever gotten soap in your mouth for cursing? do you think that’s right to do to kids who curse?: >> I did get soap in my mouth, but not for cursing; for “talking back” or being “fresh”, mostly. I was (understandably...) too afraid to do anything as brash as curse. I don’t think it’s an appropriate disciplinary measure at all, unless your mission is to confuse and frighten your child into obedience... which, apparently, is a lot of parents’ ultimate goal, it seems.

2. what age do you think is appropriate for kids to start watching horror movies with lots of gore?: >> I really don’t have a solid opinion about this. I tend to skew a little unorthodox on this front, which is probably best left unexplored (fortunately, this is all hypothetical and I’ll never have to address this situation in real life).

3. do you know what the word “polyamorous” means? and did you ever hear that song by breaking benjamin?: >> I know what it means, and I do remember the Breaking Benjamin song.

4. how many bug bites do you currently have?: >> Zero.

5. what’s one word you always have trouble spelling and can’t remember the correct spelling of?: >> I don’t think there’s any word like that. Spelling and phonics is one of my few strong suits.

6. what’s one band that really sucks live?: >> I don’t know, I haven’t seen any that I thought sucked performance-wise (I have seen a few whose music I just didn’t care for, like some opening acts, but that has nothing to do with the quality of their performance).

7. do you go to warped tour? why or why not?: >> I have never been to Warped Tour. I just never got an opportunity to go, or I was never interested, or whatever.

8. do you have any wind chimes outside your house? how many?: >> No. Some neighbours have them, I think.

9. do you know someone who actually had someone give them a bouquet of real roses and one fake one, and tell them they’ll love them until the last one dies?: >> I’ve never even heard of that.

10. which do you like better, firefox or internet explorer?: >> Firefox.

11. who is the most attractive person on your street?: >> ---

12. do you have a flat stomach? would you ever wear a belly shirt to show it off?: >> I no longer have a flat stomach, and you wouldn’t catch me dead in a crop top.

13. which do you prefer on yourself, long or short hair?: >> I like how I look with long hair, but I prefer the low maintenance of short hair. So, I buzz my head, and I wear wigs when I feel like it. Best of both worlds.

14. what about on your preferred sex? long or short?: >> ---

15. with eyebrow piercings, do you prefer the ring or the curved barbell?: >> I have no opinion.

16. have you ever pierced something yourself? why and what was it?: >> Yeah, I pierced my ears a few times. I did it because I wanted to? And also because I couldn’t afford to have them professionally done. I also did it when I was 16 because my father wouldn’t let me get a cartilage piercing, so I pierced my own ear at work one day. (My father eventually noticed because I put the most ridiculously obvious jewelry in it... hold on, I’m going to find a photo of what I’m talking about because like... what did I expect to happen)

looked something like that. I straight up deserved to get caught.

17. would you date someone who was five years older than you?: >> I don’t date, but that wouldn’t be a dealbreaker if I did.

18. i heard of a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her with a 13yearold (he’s 18) and got her pregnant, so she left him. what would you have done if you were in her situation?: >> I... just can’t imagine being in this situation, sorry.

19. how old was the youngest person you ever found attractive? and how old were you?: >> Oh, I don’t know. Probably not much younger than myself; my tastes always skewed older (oftentimes much older).

20. isn’t it annoying when you’re trying to start conversation with someone and all they say is “yup” or “really now” or something like that?: >> Not necessarily, unless they’re usually much more exuberant and participatory than that. Then I’d wonder if something was wrong (and if it was my fault).

21. if you have aim, do you have any linked screen names? how many?: >> ---

22. which of your favorite bands released a new album last?: >> I’m not sure.

23. are you waiting for any bands to release new albums? which ones?: >> No.

24. what’s your favorite store for buying cds and such at?: >> Back in the day when that was my primary mode of listening to music, my favourite music stores were Virgin Megastore and Tower Records. Ah, nostalgia.

25. what’s the point in buying dvds like “girls gone wild” and other porn if you can get tons more online for free?: >> Well, people generally do watch more porn online nowadays, I think. But the benefit of having a DVD is that... you never have to worry about the video being taken down, and you always have it available (so, even if you don’t have internet connection, etc). It’s the same argument for having paper books or movies/shows on DVD, really.

26. if you had to have one drug (illegal ones, like marijuana and cocaine and all of them) right now, what would it be?: >> Well, marijuana is technically legal here (although I think new recreational dispensary openings in this city have been kinda interrupted by the whole pandemic business, so it’s still a bit hard to access for now). The only drugs I’m even interested in anymore (besides maybe a little low-THC weed, just to see) are psychedelics, and I don’t just want to take them casually, I want a tripsitter or a therapist present. So it’s more complicated than just “getting the drug”.

27. would you ever get a sleeve or a half sleeve on your arm (we’re talking about tattoos)?: >> I would love that. I have had the idea to have a tree-rings tattoo down my left arm like the astronaut character in The Fountain for years.

28. do you have a wireless mouse and/or keyboard?: >> No, my keyboard and mouse are both wired, which is logical. Wouldn’t it suck if I was in the middle of a boss fight in FFXIV and the battery in my keyboard or mouse just fuckin died? Yikes.

29. do you think your biological parents love each other?: >> They did not love each other, from my perspective. I don’t even know if my father is capable of loving anyone, the way he fucking acts.

30. do you have callouses on your feet?: >> No.

31. did you see the commercial for that “foot grater” on tv that basically shaves the callouses off of your feet? isn’t that nasty to think about?: >> That is nasty to think about, and I don’t think it’s even necessary. Anything to make a buck, I guess.

31. what’s your favorite color combination (ex. pink and purple)?: >> I don’t know, I like a lot of colour combinations.

32. ever been to watchmovies.net? what do you think of the quality of the movies there?: >> Yeah. I don’t like sites like that because I can never get good subtitles and also they’re always buffering and shit. I can’t put up with that anymore, I paid my dues back in my literally-broke days.

33. what’s one movie you’re dying to see but haven’t had the chance to see yet?: >> Everything on my watchlists across the four streaming services I patronise. I just don’t always have movie-watching energy (or time), so it’s slow going to get through all my watchlists.

34. would you rather live alone in a huge mansion or alone in a small studio apartment?: >> Alone in a small studio apartment. Unless the huge mansion had a staff, because I really can’t fucking imagine keeping a mansion clean and maintained otherwise. But... huge mansions often come with a lot of acreage... and no neighbours... that’d be nice.

35. if you came across child porn on your computer, what would you do?: >> How the fuck would that even happen? Let’s not get silly here.

36. what’s the last computer game you played?: >> Final Fantasy XIV.

37. what’s the name of the street you live on?: >> Eh, let’s not.

38. would you ever dye your entire head blonde?: >> No.

39. what’s the randomest thing you ever heard of someone collecting?: >> I don’t know, most things people collect seem random to me.

40. how often do you use “<3” or “:]”?: >> Rarely.

41. isn’t it annoying how people walk around thinking hollister logo tshirts and ripped jeans are preppy, even though those things would never be allowed in a prepatory school because of the dress code?: >> *stares blankly in “I don’t care”*

42. how do you feel about abortion?: >> I am pro-choice.

43. what’s one thing your grandmother does that you can’t stand?: >> ---

44. did you ever notice how it’s more tragic if a younger person dies than an older person, even if they both died of the same cause?: >> It does seem that way to people, but I don’t see it that way myself. Of course I’d rather die when I’m old than, like, right now, but hey. It be like that.

45. when’s the last time you snuck around, and where did you go?: >> I don’t have to sneak around.

46. how often do you wash your hair?: >> Once a week, provided I remember.

47. do you think the price for a movie ticket is too high these days?: >> Not here, it isn’t. In NYC, it was fucking astronomical.

48. have you ever been to a drive-in movie theater?: >> No. I’d like to one day, that seems fun. But only if I have a convertible, lol.

49. what’s your favorite musical?: >> Phantom of the Opera.

50. what do you think of dr. seuss?: >> I’ve never read him (that I can remember) and I don’t care.

[saeculorum-amen]

Are we too sacramental?

This is an era too conducive to a dreadful art: the thinkpiece.  I am prone to the impulse to generate them, too, but mostly sate it with adding to a private collection of reflections — grand, uncompletable projects — or epistles to friends who are patient in receiving them.

Of course that is the defining art of the era, though.  For many of us, there are fewer distractions from the underlying process, the thinking, and sharing one’s thoughts, and more than that one’s thought process, is the textual equivalent of an Instagram photo of one’s lunch, or at least the impulse is the same.  In truth, a lot of the actual text is better than that would suggest, and the thinking is very good.  It feels like that’s the kind of thing we should have been writing, and sharing, all along, the kinds of conversations we should always have been having, anyway.

Then there is, of course, the sense of urgency and importance which is imparted to everything which is attached to this pandemic, one way or the other.  Our public health officials have been telling us for months that the matter of how we conduct our daily lives, how we gather, even in the smallest things, the most inconsequential, and certainly in many things that are casually dear to us, can be matters of life and death.  Everything is imbued with this meaning.

The questions we have been asking, though, are not what we would expect in times of crisis.  I am seeing rather less theodicy, rather fewer attempts to ask why bad or difficult things happen, and even fairly little engagement with the question of where God is in the present moment.  Instead, the questions almost exclusively seem to be settling onto matters of ecclesiology and sacramental theology: should we change how we constitute ourselves as the Church; should we change how we mediate our sacramental lives?

What I find striking about these questions is that they are not so particular to our current circumstances as the discourse might suggest, and the solutions that are floated do not seem to be novel responses to a novel situation (which they are typically framed as), but are instead solutions and rhetoric which have been with us for quite some time.  Milton Friedman notes that in times if crisis, change is possible, but the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are already lying around.  These ideas have very much already been lying around.

In my reading and experience of contemporary Anglicanism, at least, it is difficult to find challenges which are not responded to with the suggestions that we must look at how we organize the Church, and that we must look at how we mediate access to the sacraments.  The most profound developments in contemporary Anglicanism, taken by how much we talk about them, would seem in fact to be matters of sacramental access.  The ordination of women, the marriage of couples of the same gender, and the ordering of women and LGBTQ2SIA+ people as bishops at their core are matters of the question of who can have access to which sacraments, and how.

Other examples are abundant, such as the ongoing debate about just how open the practice of communion should be.  These debates are all shaped by ideas that are lying around: advocates of open communion invoke these other matters of sacramental access to use settled matters of justice to frame a call for more justice, and to make clear which side is the right side of history.  Even that framing, in terms of access and justice, is in a larger way an idea that is lying around: a social rhetoric which is abundant in our age, and which we cannot help but have strong feelings about, one way or the other.

Once something is framed in terms of an unjust barrier, then it is obvious that the barrier has to go.

So it is in the realm of ecclesiology: we have recovered a sense that the Church is not analogous with the institutional structure, but with the Body of Christ, the community of all believers.  Along with this, ideas that are lying around about egalitarianism and hierarchy, even the outright distrust of institutions, shape the conversation.  A flatter Church is the answer to many questions, even those which are not obviously ecclesial in nature on their face.

So this present moment comes along, when our buildings are empty, and it seems to suggest to us that perhaps having buildings was not such a good idea in the first place.  This may well be true, but we must acknowledge that it is not a new idea: many of the proponents of using now as the time to eliminate buildings, or dioceses, or any other trapping of institution have been advocates for those same solutions all along.  This does not mean that the ideas are wrong, nor even that the rhetoric of their unique suitability to the present moment is entirely wrong, but the present moment did not generate those solutions.

What is going on here is not that there are charlatans waiting on the sidelines to call for all of their destructive pet policies to be implemented under the banner of crisis (which is the context in which Friedman, quoted above, is often invoked politically to critique neoliberalism and tax-cuts-as-panacea.)  We are all of us feeling squeezed, and are searching within us for ways in which our convictions can respond to the present moment, to respond to acute threats that we perceive.  These convictions are by definition things that were lying around: if they were to appear spontaneously with no connection to anything else, they would not feel meaningful enough to us to matter.

We are all of us good-hearted Christians who are trying to seek the best for us and the best for the Church, but we are necessarily acting out the problems and solutions of the recent history of the Church amplified with the life and death valence that a global pandemic gives everything.  The urgency is in a way very real, because the present moment is always urgent.  Urgency, though, is not the particular character of this moment.  We always have things we have to do for right now, but I suggest that the needs we are responding to now were already there, and are only more easily or readily voiced and named.

Some specific effects are particular to the present moment, but they feel like symptoms of a disease that was already there.  Indeed, this is the point that those who are calling for ecclesial or sacramental change are making obvious.  The solutions are already lying around because the problems were, too.

There is a spectrum of solutions which exists in the cluster I have hinted at here by talking about ecclesial structures and sacramental access, the furthest point of which is: the Church should never have been in a mediating role in the first place, as the sacraments belong to all of God’s people, and therefore everyone should have access to the sacraments, because otherwise their spiritual life is dependent upon the Church’s condescension to them.

Any part of that can be moderated, such as to suggest simply that clergy have an obligation to dispense sacraments through by any means necessary, or for clergy themselves to assert that they have the right so to do, regardless of what ecclesial structures might dictate.  Adjust a few words, and you can eliminate sacraments entirely, or communal worship, or any other thing which has probably long been a source of frustration.

Each clause of that combination complaint and solution has more than a little truth in it in describing the dynamics of the life of faith, and certainly of a sacramental practice of Anglicanism.  You can pick a starting point there and branch out to talking about the entirety of not only piety but Christianity writ large, and the problems of its practice.

So I will admit that there is one part that stands out to me in particular, and which I think is very much a problem which was already lying around.  I have a solution, but I have to confess that it isn’t at all unique to the present moment, and it isn’t just a matter of getting rid of some meddlesome barrier, of eliminating some vestigial and hobbling ecclesial structure.

I find it troubling and unsurprising how much it seems to be the case that without access to sacramental worship on a Sunday morning in a beautiful building as part of a community, many are finding that they feel they have no spiritual life at all.  That they are troubled by this is legitimate, and I am troubled, too.  That we ever set anyone up for that kind of experience is a disgrace.

It is not, however, an ancient injustice of the Church which has ever and always been present, and which can be met only by changing those things which always were.  Nor is it an injustice which only exists because of a global pandemic, but it is instead a cruelty which is particular to the moment immediately before it, to the latter half of the 20th Century and the beginning of this one.

The acute sickness here seems to be one of deficient formation, of a Christian practice which has been reduced to at most a once-weekly obligation to take part in a particular rite of the Church.  That is what a spiritual life needs, and that is all a spiritual life needs.

I take no issue with a sacramentally-centred spiritual life, but the sacraments ought to be renewing of life, and transforming of the rest of life.  They cannot do this passively, but only by all who participate in them carrying out into the world whatever scraps of Grace we manage to pick up at the foot of the altar.  How could this not include personal prayer, and robust spiritual practices at home, and a million other things?

I admit, though, that my own spiritual life has at more than a few times felt like it was a matter of showing up for a couple of hours on a Sunday morning and nothing else.  Where I have felt like a loon or a narcissist to think about about how my spiritual life the rest of the time might feel more substantial.

This comes from all sides.  There is, it must be admitted, some awkwardness and even embarrassment in the practice of prayer, and certainly in any kind of home ritual.  Our society tells us that such things are not productive, and thus are a waste of time, an indulgence.  Without a community beside us, every thing that chips away at our resolve gets to ring out unopposed.  Then there’s simply the matter of being self-conscious.  And then there’s just the difficulty of setting a routine, of setting boundaries with the rest of our lives, to say that there are things we must do for our well-being, even if nobody else is making us do them.

These same flavours of distaste can come filtered through other lenses, too.  Why, after all, would you waste your time praying when you could be out working to accomplish acts of social justice, being of service to others, rather than seeking your own spiritual pleasure?  No, you can have a morsel on Sunday morning, and must subsist on that as you give selflessly to the point of depletion.

The catechist then necessarily finds it difficult to encourage people to take up such wastes of time and indulgences, and is certainly not well-equipped to answer those questions when they move from being interior uncertainties to external challenges.  “Why should I bother?”  Perhaps even going all the way to “You can’t make me.”  None of us want to waste our time like that, so we have to feel like it is not a waste of our time.

We should be honest and say that most people in the world would find gathering for the Eucharist on Sunday to be, itself, an indulgence, a waste of time, and an unpleasant imposition, too.  We, though, seem to like it.  If nothing else, we are used to it.

There was a generation, still living, whose experience of the Church would be difficult for most Anglicans today to understand, because it was that Communion was an occasional thing at most, and not always a welcome one.  It made the service longer, you see, and there was work to be done!  Morning Prayer, though, was the appropriate way for a Sunday to begin.

Even in the sacramental practices of eras not very far away at all, some things which seem indispensable to us were not only dispensed-with but inconceivable, such as the Peace.  I suspect we have all heard stories of someone who, when the Peace was first introduced, refused to have any part of shaking hands with anyone (and not because they demanded some more intimate sign.)

So I find it less that in our separation for what we were used to we should be demanding ways we can have what we were used to in all circumstances, but that we should never have been settling for a spiritual life that was so paltry.

I would never have imagined myself as describing the sacramental life as paltry, but it has become apparent that that is exactly what it can be.  So, then: are we too sacramental?  Do these rites keep us from a focus on the development of a satisfying domestic spirituality?

Well, they do not make us do anything.  We do it to ourselves: as a community through poor mutual support and faith formation, and as individuals when we decide what it takes for us to be satisfied.

The sacraments are not superior to other modes of worship, nor even other ways of experiencing God’s presence.  I have experienced more profound moments of religious ecstasy in a quiet corner of a darkened cathedral during Compline in the middle of the night, and in praying at my home prayer desk as I let all of my fears and longings pour out, than I could ever tolerate happening on your average Sunday morning.  I have needed those moments, like I need to stand outside in a cold wind and to remember that God is with me.  I need them like waking up to pray with my partner.  I need them like a prayer before a meal.

I do not always do the things that I need.  It may even be that I neglect them more often than not: they are certainly noticed acutely in their absence, even as it struggles to feel worthwhile as I engage in their mundane repetition.

If we are hurting because our spiritual life is barren without access to the sacraments we experience in body, in community, and with clerical presidency, then we should rightly be outraged.  We should take that rage and offer it to the Church and offer it even more than that to God.  We need more than morsels and scraps, but to feel like God is, as our Muslim brothers and sisters know, closer to us than our jugular vein.

That kind closeness is a need that is always with us, and that cannot be met with one thing (however glorious it is) one day a week (however holy that day.)  We could dispense with the sacraments, or with the discipline in which we practice them, in order to free ourselves from having to experience that kind of pain, but that is like Otto Rank’s description of the neurotic as one who avoids incurring the debt of living in order to avoid the repayment of the debt in death.

I would rather have the pain and the ecstasy than neither.

And I refuse to accept a statement which I have often seen made of late, which is that Christianity does not have a tradition of domestic life and private practice, or that such things are incompatible with sacramental and communal practice, saying that one must choose one or the other.

It is true that the practice of a sacramental and communal faith can come at the expense of the development of a private and domestic spiritual life, but the emphasis there is on can.  It is not the case that it must be so.  When I think of robust practices of home spirituality, I do think of those low-church Anglicans who were prepared by Sunday worship to also be able to lead Morning and Evening Prayer at home, and to feel comfortable and pleased to do so.

I think much more, though, of Christianity before the Great Schism, and as still practiced in many corners of Roman Catholicism, and nearly universal to Christian Orthodoxy.  I think of a practice of the sacramental which is so strongly for the life of the world that the blessing in everything is acutely apparent, is honoured, and is marked.  I think of asking that a priest come and bless one’s home, and also of sitting quietly before a family icon at home.  I think of praying with song (and without embarrassment) before going to bed.  I think of reading Scripture for comfort, and to feel God’s nearness.

I think of that Celtic mode of Christianity which is marked with having prayers for everything one does.  God is, after all, in all of it, and if we can make ourselves aware of that, then our hearts can be opened to something more real than the consumeristic, materialistic view of the world we are constantly inundated with allows us to see.  This is what the sacraments are calling us to.

This is the work of mystagogy in the Church: to help us to see, by entering into these mysteries again and again, that everything is connected, and that God’s presence is with us always.  This is what the sacramental life leads us towards and forms us for.  It does not simply create for us a dependency, a craving, which we must meet again once it becomes too strong to bear.

Still, that last image resonates, too, because life is hard.  We do need our scraps and morsels of Grace, and we should be kind with ourselves for that, and be kind with one another.

We must be fed enough on Sunday for other things to develop, and our communities must foster for us cohorts of practice who can support each other through the strange loneliness that haunts us all the days of our lives, and not just in times of pandemic.  We are always facing life’s hardest moments alone, and we should be equipped to do so, but not have to stay there.  The separation is, after all, an illusion, too: another thing we reject every time we have come together and declared that we are one Body in Christ.

The Easter we have been unable to observe together as we are accustomed to this year is, like every Easter, our bold assertion that nothing which seems to separate us from one another and from God can ever do so, not even death itself, and certainly not the physical distancing of this era in which we find ourselves.

Even if we do not share of the sacraments with one another in their outward signs at present, the mysteries into which they draw us are every bit as present: that we are not divided, that we are not alone, that God is not far from us.  The challenges of this present moment are not new to us — they were always lying around — but if we find them intolerable in the moment, perhaps the problem is not that we are being denied access, because nothing can deny us access to God, but that the solutions we had lying around were inadequate.

Sometimes we really do require new solutions, not because they are novel or bespoke, but because they are untried.  The reasons are many — they may feel silly or ineffective, or we may simply not know how — but they do exist.  They might be waiting for us elsewhere in the practice of Christianity, but just as likely they are already present in our communities.  There may be new modes, new things which are coming to us, too, but they are patterned on old things: the sacramental life, which forms us to see beyond the limitations of a fleeting world, and to the eternal reality of God.

May we all find the robust experience of our faith, and of encounter with the Holy, in this present time: in familiar things, and in unfamiliar things.  May we know that we are God’s own, and that we are not divided, though we may experience only our own frantic wretchedness, and perceive only our separation.  May our dissatisfaction draw us always to go deeper, into the questions, into the mysteries, which lead us to what was always true, and never fails.  May God be with us all, and through God’s own extraordinary Grace, provide us with the peace which the world cannot give, and which cannot fail or ever be taken from us.

[acidblackpirate]

1st Advent Before Christmas

Yes, it’s true, this blog is not dead yet! I’m sorry for putting it on hold for so long, but since Christmas is coming up, I have something for you ^-^ We are doing a fanfic Advent calendar, so there will be a new chapter every Sunday until Christmas. I hope you enjoy! :D

Yasu tried to glance inside the café, but the only thing he saw was his own reflection in the tinted windows. What kind of café had tinted windows? He himself would never have suggested a place like that. It seemed a little eccentric.

But then, it was his friend who had suggested this place. His friend who knew someone who knew someone whose friend was currently single. Yasu was currently single, too, but that didn’t mean he was down for this kind of set-up, really.

It reminded him of all the times he had went on a group date in his youth. The nervousness – do I look good? – the anticipation – would they look good? Yasu hadn’t missed being nervous and he surely hadn’t missed the forced, awkward conversations. Yasu felt too old to go on something like a blind date. He had outgrown the desperation of wanting to get with someone by any means and he no longer felt like it was worth the effort of trying to appeal to a complete stranger.

Still, he had agreed to the meeting.

He had convinced himself – and almost completely – that he just hadn’t wanted to disappoint his friend. I was nice he was trying to find someone for yasu. It was nice he hadn’t minded that yasu preferred that someone to be a man. He hadn’t meant to be rude by turning the offer down.

If he was being honest, however, it wasn’t the only reason why he had agreed. It wasn’t so much the curiosity, either. Although yasu was curious. All he knew was that the other person was a musician, too, and roughly around yasu’s age. And also interested in men, of course. Yasu had thought he knew everyone in Japan like that already.

The main reason why he had accepted, though, was yasu’s own boredom. He didn’t quite dare to call it loneliness, although it was close to that. After withdrawing from music business, yasu had a lot of spare time all to himself. He felt good, he felt rested, he had time for his friends – who ironically never had time for him – and he would have had time for a partner, if anyone had been free to go out with him. Yasu wasn’t lonely in the depressive kind of way, where he felt unloved and like no one cared. Most of the time, he just didn’t know what to do with himself. There were only so many video games to play, only so many movies to watch and so many manga to read until you got fed up with your own company.

For the first time in what might have been his entire life, yasu felt ready for dating. There was nothing else on his mind, no music that came first, no fans who needed to be tended to. It was just him. In the end, yasu felt ready to fall in love, because he had nothing else to do.

He pushed the sign on the door that told him to do exactly that and it slid to the side, admitting him into the café.

It was a stylish place – a little too stylish for yasu’s taste. The lights were dim – naturally so, due to the tinted windows. The seats were made out of black fake leather and the waiters and waitresses dressed in simple, but classic black button downs. It looked like a place that people with money came to for an overly expensive coffee and anonymity.

“One person?”, an eager waiter approached him.

“I’m meeting with someone”, yasu said, looking around the room. “He should be here already.”

The waiter gestured for him to walk through.

With a quick glance yasu checked the taken seats. One couple, one elder woman. He was supposed to recognize the man by a rose on the table in front of him. A rose. When his friend had told him on the phone, yasu had rolled his eyes. Something like “the guy in the white shirt” would have been too simple of course. That was one thing he didn’t miss about the music industry at all. Everyone was just so extra.

He spotted a corner seat, right next to the counter where the coffee was brewed, but far away from the windows. The person sitting there had his back towards the entrance.

Yasu thought that was a weird choice. That way, you were always seen before you could see. Most people would probably have taken the seat facing the entrance.

Stepping around a table, yasu indeed spotted a long-stemmed rose laying on the smooth black surface of the table. The man sitting there had a small frame and washed out blonde hair. He looked so frail even from behind, that yasu wondered how he didn’t just fall apart like thin china when leaving the house. The outside world seemed too cruel for someone who looked so breakable. The thought felt familiar, though.

Yasu took another step towards the corner seat and reached out to knock his knuckles lightly onto the table plate.

The blonde man turned his head towards yasu. He wore a surprised expression as if he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching him at all.

He smiled, when he saw yasu, but it was an irritated smile. Again, yasu thought he looked like something that rather belonged into a display cabinet, where a wall of glass would keep it safe from getting in touch with the real world. He had always thought Hyde looked adorable when he felt confused.

“Yasu”, he said. His voice was warm, but it also contained a question.

“Now, that’s awkward”, yasu said and pointed towards the rose on the table. “I was supposed to meet a tall, handsome stranger today.”

Deciding that it would be awkward to stand around much longer, he took off his jacket, placing it at the back of his seat and sat down opposite to Hyde.

His eyes followed yasu’s motions with mild curiosity.

Hyde’s hair had grown long since the last time yasu had seen him. He hadn’t, admittedly, seen him a lot recently.

“I see the problem”, Hyde replied very serious, his eyes still fixed on yasu’s face.

Yasu had always found that habit of his slightly unsettling. When you were alone with him, Hyde didn’t exactly stare at you intensely, but his eyes just rested on your face. It wasn’t the watchfulness of someone, who was trying to figure you out or see you through, but rather the look of someone who had looked around the room and decided that your face was the most interesting thing to see for now. He looked at yasu like he would have looked out the window – interested, yes, and paying attention, but like anything could draw that attention away any time. It made yasu nervous around him, when there was no one else around whom Hyde could watch. Maybe, yasu felt nervous around him, because he had always admired him, too.

“I am not tall at all”, Hyde finished.

Yasu laughed quietly and turned his head away, mostly so he didn’t have to meet Hyde’s unsettling gaze any longer.

“You are also not a stranger”, he observed.

“I wasn’t expecting you, either”, Hyde clarified, speaking calmly. He rarely raised his voice in conversation. “I was expecting a hot, gay stranger.”

Yasu looked up to meet his eyes again and grinned widely.

“Two out of three, not too bad, eh?”, he joked.

Hyde laughed quietly, too.

The situation still felt a little awkward, but yasu felt surprisingly relaxed about it. It wasn’t like he had gotten his hopes up about this date. Mostly, he had been bored and glad to leave the apartment for a good reason. But meeting with a friend was also nice. If he had had the choice between a blind date and casually grabbing coffee with Hyde, he might very well have chosen exactly this.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, though”, yasu added. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

Hyde brushed it off with a small motion of his hand. He never gestured violently, but weirdly gentle. He didn’t seem to push the air apart with his hands, but he politely asked it to step out of his way.

“It’s not your fault”, he said. “And I’m not wasting my time. I wasn’t keen on the date anyway. And it’s good to see you. We haven’t talked in ages. How are you?”

“Good.” Yasu nodded absent-mindedly. “Good. I mean, I’m rested for the first time in what must be forever. You seem very busy with concerts. Wasn’t there a show only this week?”

Hyde nodded.

“Yes, and next weekend it’s the tour final.”

Yasu realized now that Hyde looked tired. Of course, he also looked older. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there a few years ago. He still looked handsome, but he seemed to age rapidly from exhaustion rather than passing of time. Yasu saw the same wariness in all of his friends lately. He himself must have looked like that, too, but he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t had the time to notice.

“You want to eat something?”, yasu suggested.

He had noticed the waiter had been eyeing them for a while now.

“I don’t really …” Hyde hesitated. “I don’t really have a lot of time”, he said. “I have another appointment after this.”

Yasu tried not to look disappointed. He really hadn’t talked to Hyde in a long time and he had looked forward to a nice afternoon with his friend. He also couldn’t help wondering, if Hyde was making up excuses. Maybe he would have stayed if this was an actual date. Maybe he did feel like wasting his time if it was just yasu.

“I didn’t want to come in the first place”, Hyde added as if he had seen yasu’s thoughts written out on his face. “I just don’t have the time for dating currently. I just didn’t want to disappoint my friend by saying no.”

“Yes, of course”, yasu jumped in a bit too eager for his own means. “I’m also too busy at the moment. I have lots of new ideas. Many directions I could head into. I just didn’t want to be rude.”

He didn’t want Hyde to think he was so desperate, so lonely, that he had actually set his hopes into this stupid blind date. He also didn’t want him to think he was lazing around. Hyde had been working so hard lately.

“Not very good friends we have there”, yasu said after a moment of silence. “They should have known we are friends. I thought it was common knowledge.”

Hyde shrugged.

“I guess that’s the problem when you try too hard to stay anonymous. There were too many people involved and probably, they all tried to keep our names out of it.”

He chuckled quietly, all to himself.

Yasu reached out for the rose on the table between them. He put his forefinger against one of the thorns. It wasn’t as sharp as they made you believe. The rose pedals were of a very dark red.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”, he asked. “The rose.”

“I thought so, too”, Hyde agreed. “But it’s a pretty flower nonetheless.”

Yasu twirled the stem between his fingers, so the whole rose turned. It lost two of its pedals. It wasn’t a fresh rose. It seemed exhausted, too.

“So, it wasn’t your idea”, yasu concluded.

“No, my friend told me to bring it”, Hyde said. “He also suggested this place. I’ve never been here before. But I like it. It’s stylish.”

Yasu looked around the room.

“A little dim”, he pointed out.

“I like it”, Hyde repeated. “It’s peaceful.”

He was now watching the rose, moving between yasu’s fingers, instead of his face. It gave yasu the opportunity to study his expression more closely himself now. Happy, but worn out. Yasu worried about him.

“You mind, if I take a coffee?”, he asked rather suddenly. He felt a headache coming on.

“Go ahead”, Hyde said and yasu raised his hand in direction of the waiter.

The young man rushed forward immediately. It had started to feel a little weird to just sit around without ordering anything.

“Yes?”, he asked.

“A milk coffee, please”, yasu said.

The waiter turned to Hyde.

Hyde had turned his head away from him. It was rare for him not to look at people directly. Yasu remembered he had had his back to the entrance and the windows, too, when he entered. Hyde seemed tired of people.

“You have alcohol, too?”, he asked.

“Yes”, the waiter confirmed.

Yasu was a little surprised, but not very much so. This place seemed exclusive enough.

“A bourbon, then”, Hyde said and the waiter turned around to deliver their order at the counter.

Yasu watched Hyde closely, who was still staring at the rose.

“It’s still pretty early”, he observed.

“The American tour messed up my sense of time completely”, Hyde defended himself. “I got used to drinking to even fall asleep.”

Maybe that was why the lights at this place were so dim, yasu thought. It was designed for rich people who didn’t sleep enough and were moreover constantly hungover.

“You should take care of yourself”, he said softly. “We’re not young anymore.”

Hyde pushed the rose pedals aside that had come off. He didn’t put them in a specific place, just brushed them aside a little as if their current position was somehow bothering him.

“That means it’s my last chance”, he said.

Yasu sighed.

“No wonder you haven’t called me up in so long. You are stubborn.”

Hyde looked up and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I guess I haven’t been a good friend lately.”

Yasu brushed it off. He was moving his hands more violently than Hyde ever did.

“It’s alright, I understand. I just didn’t expect to meet you here today.”

He paused for a moment, thoughtfully.

“Though I should probably have expected it to be someone I know. Back in the old days, I dated everyone in the scene, who was … you know … interested.”

He made another vague gesture that implied what kind of interest in another man he was hinting at.

“I was wild in my youth. And not very picky.”

“We never dated”, Hyde pointed out.

Yasu gave a little huff and shrugged.

“I offered it more than often enough. I always liked you and didn’t hide it. It was you who never took the offer.”

“The timing was never right”, Hyde said.

All yasu could do was not to roll his eyes. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that Hyde did not care for going out with him. He didn’t need his excuses now about being busy.

“Also”, Hyde continued. “We did go on a date once. You don’t remember? It was around Christmas, too. We went shopping for presents together and found this very cute café where we had cookies and mulled wine. We got a little tipsy accidently. It was fun. But then you were busy and never called me back afterwards.”

Yasu winced. He had completely forgotten about that day, but the memories came back as Hyde talked. Hyde had worn an incredible ugly cap that day with a reindeer on it.

“I’m sorry. It was my bad then”, yasu admitted. “It was shortly before the new album release and I was just so busy.”

“It’s alright”, Hyde soothed him. “I told you. It’s not anyone’s fault. It was just bad timing. We never got it right.”

“You are even busy now”, yasu observed. The memory had made him sad.

Hyde was right. It had been fun. Yasu would do nothing rather than give it another try. He would like this today to be a date, too. Now, he finally had all the time in the world to call back. But he should have done it back then.

“So are you”, Hyde said.

Yasu remembered what he had said earlier about having new projects on his mind as well. His mind was mostly blank, though. The feeling wasn’t all that bad.

“Yes”, he lied.

The waiter stepped up to the table again. He placed a glass of golden liquid in front of Hyde and a cup in front of yasu. The milk foam had the image of a leave drawn onto it.

“I wish we had the time to do it now”, Hyde said quietly after the waiter had disappeared. “Go shopping for presents again.”

“When do you have to leave?”, yasu asked.

Hyde checked the watch on his wrist.

“I’ll have to be at the studio in 40 minutes. It’s not far.”

Yasu looked down onto the picture of the leave on his coffee. He couldn’t help smiling.

“40 minutes. You know what I would say, if I was still in my twenties, right?”, yasu asked with a smirk.

“I do”, Hyde confirmed. He was smiling as well.

Yasu sunk the spoon into the foam on his coffee, destroying the picture on it.

After mixing the milk foam with the coffee properly, he took up the spoon again and licked it clean before putting it back onto the saucer.

“Sure?”, he assured.

“Sure”, Hyde said. “Remember, I knew you in your twenties.”

Yasu laughed. He hadn’t seen Hyde in so long, he had forgotten how easy it was to laugh with him and remember.

He thought of rushing out of this place, trying to find a hotel room nearby. Hurrying up with tearing off the clothes, sloppy kisses and giggles, because they were in a rush, because it was stupid, because there was a risk of running late. Twenty years ago, it would have been yasu’s idea of fun.

“It’s the only solution when you don’t have time for proper dating”, he said. “You just press fast-forward and hope it works out.”

“It usually doesn’t”, Hyde observed.

Yasu shook his head lightly. He had known a lot of men over the last years and he had known them intimately. But here he was now, bored and lonely.

“It doesn’t”, he confirmed.

Hyde took a sip from his bourbon. The glass looked too big in his small hand and his grip was so gentle, yasu was scared he might drop it any moment.

“So, how is America?”, he changed the topic.

“Honestly, I don’t see much of it”, Hyde said. “The schedule is very tight. I’m just on the bus, trying to sleep. The shows are good, though. Nothing compared to Japan.”

“I see”, yasu said.

He understood perfectly well what was driving Hyde there. It wasn’t the more of fans – he already had plenty of them in Japan. It was the reputation, the international fame. There was always a next step, becoming bigger, becoming more famous. With yasu’s reputation, targeting an international market would have been the next step for him as well. If it hadn’t been for his neck, he might have tried.

But now, that this dream was put on hold, yasu found himself not minding all that much. He had constantly been chasing something. Some kind of fame, some kind of acceptance, that would somehow fill the void inside of him. One last goal and he would finally be allowed to rest, finally be allowed to feel happy. But yasu had never reached that goal and now he realized that it wasn’t the fans he missed, not the fame and not even the music. He missed falling asleep next to someone and he missed being able to call up his friends for spontaneous drinks, because everyone was always busy nowadays. If he could go back in time, he would have changed the release date of the album. He would have called Hyde back. Whatever he had chased after, it hadn’t been important. Hyde however, was still chasing it, yasu could tell.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?”, he asked quietly.

Hyde took another sip of his bourbon. The alcohol seemed to relax him. He had sunken a little deeper into his seat.

“What do I know?”, he returned with a shrug. “I’ve got to try. I need a goal to pursue. Here in Japan, I have already reached everything. What else would I do?”

Slowly yasu nodded. He knew the emptiness that came from having reached your goals and still not feeling content. You had to look for a new goal, or admit failure. But if you admitted failure, your life became worthless. All the meetings with friends you had cancelled, all the family dinners you didn’t attend to, all the dates you never called back, they became pointless and your sacrifices would be for nothing. If you admitted failure, you had given up on happiness for no reason.

“We could go shopping for presents instead”, he said under his breath.

His eyes were on the rose, not on Hyde. He felt like Hyde wasn’t looking at him either.

“We can always do that, if America doesn’t work out for you.”

“What about all your own projects?”, Hyde asked, putting his glass onto the table.

Yasu raised his gaze. Not up to Hyde’s eyes, just to where his hands were still holding the glass, although it was standing on a solid surface now. It was almost empty already.

“What do I know?”, yasu repeated Hyde’s words with a sigh.

He didn’t know if he could make Hyde happier than international fame. He wasn’t even sure it was a choice he would make himself, had his neck left him with any choice at all. He wasn’t sure if he said those words, because he actually liked Hyde, or because he was tired of feeling lonely. Whatever he had felt for Hyde once, those feelings had faded over time. They hadn’t vanished, he just hadn’t thought about them in a long time and now he didn’t know what to make of them anymore. Probably, he was just asking Hyde out, because – again – currently yasu had nothing else to do.

“Somehow, this meeting feels rather sad, doesn’t it?”, Hyde asked abruptly.

Yasu smirked to himself. He wondered if that was why they usually met with Daigo around. His noisiness droned out all the past that Hyde and yasu were carrying around with them.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t actually a fun date”, yasu apologized.

“We should talk more often, though”, Hyde said.

Yasu did look into his face now. Hyde was watching him again.

“Sure”, yasu said.

Hyde raised his glass and gulped down the rest of the bourbon at once.

“You should drink less”, yasu said.

“Probably”, Hyde said. He did not move to get up, but it was obvious their meeting was over already.

There was an awkward silence between them. Yasu wondered what he could have done or said to make the meeting less depressing. He couldn’t think of anything to say now.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t an actual date”, Hyde finally said. “But I have to go now. I really hope we will get the timing right someday.”

“Yes, maybe someday”, yasu agreed vaguely.

Hyde shifted in his seat to get up.

“Take the rose”, yasu said and pushed it across the table towards Hyde.

“No, keep it”, Hyde said and got up.

Yasu hadn’t taken even one sip of his coffee yet. His headache was growing stronger.

“It’s a deposit. Once we go on a real date, I’ll bring a bouquet of roses”, Hyde promised.

Yasu snorted, but managed a smile.

“Alright, once you are less busy, just put the roses on my grave. I will probably die before you are free again.”

Hyde put on a guilty smile. Yasu thought that he looked younger again when he smiled; less tired.

“It’s just bad timing again”, he apologized.

Yasu nodded and looked down onto his coffee again. The mild foam close to the rim of the cup was still white, in the middle where the leave had been before stirring, it was beige.

“Yes”, he agreed. “It’s nobody’s fault. Do your best at the meeting. See you.”

Hyde raised his hand as if wanting to wave, although he was still standing right in front of yasu. Moreover, his hand was not moving at all. He just held it up, like a student wanting to ask a question.

“See you”, Hyde repeated. “Let’s set up a meeting, once we both have time again.”

Yasu nodded and watched Hyde turn around. His back looked small, the tips of his blond hair a little dry. Even his posture looked tired. Watching him from behind, Hyde seemed like he needed a hug urgently.

Next to the door he stopped and turned to the coat hanger that yasu had overlooked completely when walking in. He took down a black coat and slipped into it. It seemed too large for him. Not at the shoulders and not at the length, but at his arms. Only the tip of his fingers peaked out of the sleeves.

Yasu changed his mind.

Because he was too old and too lonely for blaming no one. He had wasted too many years making up excuses and chasing pointless dreams. He didn’t know why had had lied to Hyde about having projects on his own. Probably so Hyde didn’t feel guilty for walking away. And although yasu didn’t want him to feel guilty, he didn’t want him to walk away, either.

“Hyde!”, he called out after him.

Hyde turned around.

He wore the same expression as he had when greeting him. Warmly, and like he was genuinely glad to see him, but also a little confused about what he wanted from him now.

“Yes?”, he asked, loudly enough for his voice to carry through the room easily.

“Actually”, yasu said. “The one thing I currently got is plenty of time.”

Even from the distance, he could see Hyde smiling.

He did now raise his hand again and moved it in a polite, hesitant wave, as if he was scared to bother anyone with the motion.

“I got it”, he confirmed. “I will call you. Don’t lose the deposit.”

Yasu took the rose from the table and held it up next to his face for Hyde to see it.

Hyde nodded and then he did turn around to walk out on the street, where it was growing colder by each day now, where the Christmas lights were up already, and where every shop window displayed a variety of presents.

Yasu put the rose down onto the table again.

It had lost another pedal when he lifted it. But all in all, yasu thought, it still looked pretty good.

[tiny-circus]

1: Let’s start with a tricky one; what is the real reason you are confused right now? I am confused how someone has stolen my identity and has started making accounts in my name :( so shit.

2: Do you ever get “good morning” texts from anyone? No, mornings aren’t good haha

3: If your significant other smoked pot, would you care? Yeah weed just makes people so unproductive. It would annoy me. If it was a social thing I wouldn’t mind buttttt would rather they didn’t. 

4: Do you find it easy to trust others? Yeah once the trust is earned or I’ve got to know someone well. Some people are very open and easy to trust 

5: What were you doing at 11PM last night? Watching the Hobbit

6: You’re drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you?  Probably Steven lol 

7: What would you do if you found out you had been cheated on? Leave, block, delete and never talk to again. There’s not much you can do when you’ve been cheated on other than pick yourself back up again and have time alone.

8: Are you close with your dad? Not really.

9: I bet you kissed someone last night, right? I did not babes

10: What are you listening to? Just got peep show playing in the background :P

11: You can only drink ONE liquid for the rest of your life - what is it? Tea

12: Do you like hickeys? Hate them. Ew.  

13: What time do you go to bed? Usually 11:30 - 12pm

14: Is there someone who continuously lets you down? No, I don’t tend to stick around when someone continuously does that

15: Can you text as quickly with one hand as you do both? Who cares? XD

16: Do you always answer your texts? Yeah leaving them unread is so annoying

17: Do you hate the person you fell the hardest for? Nah, hate is a strong word and it happened a long time ago. All water under the bridge now.

18: When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends? An hour or so ago

19: Is there someone that makes you happy every time you see them? Yeeeeeah all my friends do 

20: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? Probably something old like “my back still hurts”

21: Is anyone else in the room with you? Nah bare alonez right now

.22: Do you believe what goes around comes around? Yeah

23: Were you happier four months ago than you are now? I’m about the same

24: Is there someone you wish you could fix things with? Not really

25: In the past week, have you cried? I shed a little tear reading Kingdom of Ash but I couldn’t have a full on cry in the middle of the train XD 26: What colour is the shirt you are wearing? Red

27: Do people ever call you by your last name? No its so rude when people call someone by their last name. I don’t like it

28: Is anyone ignoring you right now? I dunno?

29: Do you have a best friend? No I’m not 5 30: Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the last person you kissed? Wouldn’t be hard but I wouldn’t want to see it

31: Who was your last call from? EE - sorting out stupid identity theft shit

32: Are you mad at anyone? I’m a little annoyed. I have a friend that barely contacts me at all (which is fine, we’re all busy and have our lives) but when they do contact me its to talk about their problems that they don’t ever sort out over and over again.  I also don’t think it takes much of their time just to say “hey, what’s up, how’re you?” 

33. Have you ever kissed someone older than you? Yeah I think most people have been a little older

34: How old will the last person you kissed be on his/her next birthday? I don’t know, 29? 35: How many more days until your birthday? I am not counting, soz babe

36: Do you have any summer plans yet? Probably book a holiday to Greece, haven’t thought that far ahead 

37: Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex? Yes

38: Are you keeping anything from your best friend(s) now? I guess I’m keeping my feelings about the friend that barely messages me. I think I’ll have the conversation at some point but they get very anxious and upset whenever I voice a concern.

39: Do you have a secret that you’ve never told anyone? Not that I can think of

40: Have you ever regretted kissing someone? Probably, some have been so bad XD

41: Do you think age matters in relationships? If you’re both consenting adults and there isn’t some weird power control then I guess its okay

42: Are you available? Available for? ;) 43: How many people have you had real, strong feelings for since high school ended?   Two people

44: If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get? Lip

45: Do you believe exes can be friends? Yeah I think they can. I think if nothing awful happened and it ends okay, you both need some time apart to get used to having that distance between each other and do your own thing. Once you’re both in the same space mentally it can work.

46: Do you regret anything? Not really

47: Honestly, what’s on your mind right now? Thinking about what is on my mind xD

48: Did you ever lose a best friend? I’ve drifted from people, yeah

49: Was your last kiss a mistake? Not a mistake, I liked him at the time but it didn’t work out. Oh well.

50: Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like? I got over the person I liked cos he didn’t want anything serious. I’ve been single for a while so, I don’t really want to mess around

51: Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? No

52: Do you still talk with the person you LAST kissed? Yeah sometimes, mostly just send each other weird memes

53: What was the last thing you ate? Homemade bread

54: Did you get any compliments today? No

55: Where are you going on your next vacation? JAPAN AND SOUTH KOREA :D

56: Do you own anything from other countries? I mean my whole wardrobe is mostly from Japan xD

57: Are most of your friend guys or girls? Half and half, but I’ve always got on better with girls

58: Where have you lived most of your life? Good ol’ Billerz

59: When was the last time you took a long drive? I don’t know

60: Have you ever played Spin the Bottle? No I don’t wanna kiss gross people xD

61: Have you ever TPd someone’s house? I’m not American so Idk what that is

62: Who do you text the most? Faun

63: What was the last movie you saw? The Hobbit

64: What’s preventing your current boyfriend/girlfriend from going back to their ex? The fact that I don’t have a boyfriend/girlfriend right now xD

65: How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have in 2010? 1

66: Is the last person you kissed younger than you? No

67: Do you curse around your parents? Yeah

68: Are you happy with where you live? S'ight, three stops from London so I ain’t complaining : P

69. Picture of yourself? Just check my profile lol

70. Are you a monogamous person or do you believe in open-ended relationships? I’m 100% monogamous

71. Have you ever been dumped? Yeh

72. What do you most like about making out? It leads to spooning which leads to forking

73. Have you ever casually made out with someone who you weren’t seriously involved with? Ye.

74. When you kiss someone for the first time, is it usually you who initiates it or the other? The other, I’ve noticed I’m really bad at initiating anything physical. I get kind of nervous? I’m not really a touchy person haha

75. What part of a person’s body do you find most attractive? The face and hair

76. Who was the last person you talked to last night before you went to bed? Mum 

77. Had sex with someone you knew less than an hour? >___>

78. Had sex with someone you didn’t know their name? >____>

79. What makes your heart flutter and brings a big cheesy smile to your face? When someone messages me something really sweet, or take the time out of their day just to speak to me. I think a little effort goes a long way

80. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? Honestly depends on how strongly I feel about that person. I don’t want to say no because until I’m in the situation I don’t know

81. Has someone who had a crush on you ever confessed to you? Yeah

82. Do you tell a lot of people when you have a crush? Noooooooo I don’t tell anyone until I’m actually with that person. Idk I just have this paranoia that voicing my feelings to other people will ruin it or something will go wrong. So I just keep it to myself until things progress between me and the person I like

83. Do you miss your last sweetie? My what?

84. Last time you slow danced with someone? Never xD

85. Have you ever ‘dated’ someone you’ve never met? No, how does that work?

86. How can I win your heart? Make an effort, sense of humour, be respectful and kind and sociable 

87. What is your astrological sign? Gemini

88. What were you doing last night at 12 AM? Watching peep show and using my massage machine. My back has been in a lot of pain lately. Getting old init xD

89. Do you cook? Yeah gotta to stay alive 8)

90. Have you ever gotten back in touch with an old flame after a time of more than 3 months of no communication? Yeah they got in contact with me. To be honest most guys end up getting back in touch, its either for a booty call, cos they’re feeling shit and lonely or they have a lot of apologising to do.

91. If you’re single right now, do you wish you were in a relationship? I don’t wish for it, but if it happens then okay :B

92. Do you prefer to date various people or do you pretty much fall into monogamous relationships quickly? I’m not really into modern dating to be honest. I did it for a while and its a lot of effort and not much pay off. People stop talking for no reason or they don’t give a reason even though you get along. Then you need to build it back up again with someone else. I prefer to just get to know someone after time

93. What physical traits do you look for in a potential interest? Dark hair, baby face, nice fashion style, tattoos

94. Name four things that you wish you had: A long 3 month holiday My own house A cute guy to cuddle ;) Aaaand a million pounds yeah 

95. Are you a player? lol no, I’m very direct. Cba with wasting time

96. Have you ever kissed 2 people in one day? Yeah

97. Are you a tease? Again, I’m very direct so if I want something I’ll say

98. Ever meet anyone you met on Tumblr? Yeah

99. Have you ever been deeply in love with someone? Yeash

100. Anybody on Tumblr that you’d go on a date with? Nah no one is on here lol

101. Hugs or Kisses? Both :'3

102. Are you too shy to ask someone out? Not really

103. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Cute face, dark hair dark eyes ;) 104. Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you babe? Everyone should be called babe

105. If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was in relationship, would you go for it? No I wouldn’t even bother speaking to them

106. Do you flirt a lot? Not at all xD 107. Your last kiss? What about it?

108. Have you kissed more than 5 people since the start of 2011? Up until now? Yeah xD

109. Have you kissed anyone in the past month? Yeah 110. If you could kiss anyone who would it be? TOP

111. Do you know who you’ll kiss next? Nope

112. Does someone like you currently? Nah

113. Do you currently have feelings for anyone? Nah

114. Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings? Serious, flings are a waste of time for me 115. Ever made out with just a friend? No thats weird

116. Are you happier single or in a relationship? If the relationship is right, i’ll be happy but Im also happy being single

[strife-and-discord]

I Want You To Be You

Read on AO3 here

Characters: Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Shouto

Summary: Natsuo really wants to get closer to Shouto and be the kind of big brother that Touya was for him so he invites him out to the park to hang out for a while. They're both nervous and things end up getting a little more heated than either of them intended.

A/N: ahhhh so long story short I'm disappointed at the lack of Shouto/Natsuo brotherly bonding so I went ahead and wrote it my fucking self

low key dedicated to @suntails who really loves Natsuo and is overall a wonderful human being

“I dunno Fuyumi… I just can’t help worrying that he’s going to hate me.”

Fuyumi turns from the sink to give him a look. He knows she thinks he’s overthinking the situation but it’s a situation that needs to be overthought! He’s gonna hang out with Shouto officially, in a casual setting for the first time in both their lives- excluding times when Shouto was a baby and Natsuo was four- and he doesn’t want to risk screwing it up before he even gets a chance to know his little brother.

“I know you’re nervous but he’s not going to hate you Natsu.”

“But what if he does,” Natsuo whines. “I really want this workout Fuyu-nee.”

Fuyumi just rolls her eyes at him and sighs, “Look, the biggest thing you have to keep in mind is that, although he hides it well, Shouto can be very shy. You’re not going to accomplish your goal in the first…” She pauses to thinks “Session. It’s going to take some time for him to warm up to you. It’s nothing personal it’s just his personality.”

“Yeah and it’s not like I would know anything about his personality,” He can’t help mutter bitterly.

“And don’t give him any of that attitude either!” Fuyumi huffs. “The last thing he needs is you dumping your grievances on him.” She turns back to doing the dishes

Natsuo just sighs and looks out the window to the courtyard. He has plenty of happy memories of time spent there, mostly playing sports with Touya (even though he was terrible at all of them), or studying with Fuyumi. But he can’t really recall any time out there with Shouto. Natsuo was only eight years old when Enji declared that none of them could see Shouto anymore so any memories from before then are hazy. He does remember being excited to be a big brother and being confused as to why he couldn’t see him anymore.

“I need to do this Fuyumi. For both of us.”

The clattering of dishes stops for a moment, “I know… Natsuo.”

_______________

“Tenya, I’m nervous. What if I screw this up?”

Tenya tilts his head at Shouto, his mouth in a straight line. “If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think this is something you can screw up.”

Shouto can’t help but frown. He wants to point out that that he’s very good at screwing these sorts of things up if his relations with the rest of his family are any indication, but that will probably just cause more concern for Tenya. Which he doesn’t want.

“My family isn’t like yours,” he settles with instead.

“I know that,” Tenya stated, waving his arm, “That’s not what I’m implying. My point is that if your brother is truly intent on bonding with you he won’t care about any personality quirks.”

Shouto just gives Tenya a dubious look that makes him sigh, “Look, I’m probably just as bad at social interaction as you are, if not worse! I’m the opposite of Tensei in many ways but, even if I get on his nerves sometimes, it doesn’t change how he feels about me.”

That’s part of the problem, Shouto thinks. Natsuo and he haven’t even had the chance to figure out how they feel about each other which is why this first impression is so important.

“Shouto, You’re making a face that says you don’t believe me, “ Tenya deadpans.

Shouto grimaces, “Sorry, it’s just complicated.”

“You wouldn’t have asked to speak with me if you were intending to ignore my advice.” Tenya hesitates for a slightly awkward second before resting a hand on Shouto’s shoulder. He leans into it, enjoying the pressure and warmth he doesn’t get to experience much. “This is a big step you’re taking and I know it’s scary but... I’m certain it will all turn out ok.”

_____________________

Natsuo had fussed for ages over where to invite Shouto. He didn’t want to go anywhere too crowded because Shouto doesn’t like crowds, but he didn’t want to take him anywhere to boring. Plus he wanted to go somewhere they could actually talk and get to know each other. Eventually, he settled on Naboru Park. Even if there are people, it’s big enough that they shouldn’t be bothered and, if they want to do something, they can go for a scenic walk.

He’d told Fuyumi to pass on the meeting place to Shouto but, even though Natsuo is early, he’s still worried that Shouto could have gotten lost, or forgotten to come, or had decided to not show up at all... He’s starting to tremble on the bench and he can’t help but bounce his leg frantically. This waiting is killing him! He can feel the first of a hundred negative hypotheticals starting to fill his head before he can stop them.

Ok, he just has to breath, give his mind a chance to slow down and get back to thinking rationally. Natsuo focuses on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply. At the very least he should wait until after the meeting time to panic.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when someone suddenly someone places a hand on his shoulder. He whips around- ready to slug them in the nose if they’re shady, or yell at them if they’re not- and is surprised to see that it’s Shouto standing there looking up at him wide-eyed. They both stand there frozen- almost comically- for several moments, Natsuo’s mind blank of any sort of conversation starter. Shouto’s eyes flick to the right and Natsuo realises he still has his fist raised at his side.

Quickly tucking his hand behind his back, he straightens himself and attempts to laugh it off, “haha… Sorry ‘bout that Shou’! You gave me a real startle there, haha…” Okay, that’s too much laughing, now Shouto’s just staring at him like he’s crazy. Natsuo tries to clear the lump in his throat, “uh, anyway! I’m really glad you made it! I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?” At least that’s fairly honest.

Shouto doesn’t answer straight away, instead, he walks around Natsuo and sits next to the spot he had been a few moments earlier. “The trains were a bit busy, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

That was pretty much all the small talk Natsuo had in mind, shit! What does he say now? He stalls for time by taking a seat next Shouto. Now what!?

“Uhh… How are things going in the school dorms? It must be a pretty big change from living… with dad and Fuyumi.” Natsuo can’t bring himself to say ‘home’. It was a place he once lived, sure, but that house had never been his home.

Shouto looks down. So far, Natsuo is getting the vibe that he likes to think his answers through before responding. He recalls what Fuyumi said about him being shy and he can see what she means, but the clues are small enough that Natsuo wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking.

“It’s very different from living with dad,” Shouto agrees, “It’s odd not having a strict schedule or diet to follow, but I like being able to spend time with my friends.”

It takes all of his will power for Natsuo not to wince. Those are both things Shouto should have already had, instead, it took several villain attacks and moving to school just for him to have some quality time both to himself and with his friends. What does Shouto do in his free time, now that he doesn’t have to spend every minute of his honing himself to be some sort of weapon against All Might? Natsuo can’t recall him ever having the time for hobbies.

“So what’ve you been doing with all this free time?”

Shouto’s face falls just the slightest bit, “Uh… Well… To be honest I’m not really sure what I want to do now that I’m not training so much. I’ve been doing a lot of sleeping and reading, I study when I need to, and I try to spend time with people if they’re around but socialising can get pretty overwhelming sometimes, so I go back to my room.”

It sucks to say that the statement doesn’t surprise Natsuo much at all. Of course, Shouto wouldn’t have any clue what kind of hobbies he’s interested, he’s never tried anything. Natsuo can’t even remember him drawing or anything when he was little. He was already training by the time he was old enough to hold a pencil.

it’s getting harder and harder not to lose his temper through this conversation. Everything Shouto’s saying is just a reminder of how deep the effect of their father runs. A reminder of how terrible Natsuo is at being an older brother.

Shouto seems to notice how deep in thought Natsuo is and tilts his head at him. “You’re making a funny face,” Shouto states, “And your fists are clenched.”

Natsuo resists the urge to reply sarcastically to that. It’s probably just Shouto’s way of asking a question without actually having to ask. He knows Fuyumi told him to keep his personal feelings about their family out of this but Natsuo doesn’t think he can hold back anymore. Besides, isn’t it more important for Shouto to understand the things that are wrong in his life so he can work to fix them?

“Yeah…” Natsuo hesitates, if he starts this conversation there’ll be no going back.

Shouto interjects before he can come up with a better response, “What’s the point of this whole sibling bonding thing if you’re not going to be honest with me?” Natsuo looks over to see that his face is set in a determined look that reminds him so much of Touya.

“I’m angry Shouto,” Natsuo hisses out. He sees the split second of panic on Shouto’s face and hurries to explain himself. “Not at you. I’m angry at dad, for all the terrible things he’s done, I’m angry at all the people we went to for help who refused to believe us, and especially, I’m angry at myself. For never being able to do a damn thing about any of it.”

The statement hangs in the air once he’s said it, feeling like some toxic beast he’s finally released from his system. He looks over at Shouto only to see that he’s looked away wearing a blank gaze that reveals nothing of his inner thoughts.

He decides to continue, “Fuyumi told me that I shouldn’t bring up any of that stuff. That I shouldn’t show my anger because you’ve had enough of people being angry to last you a lifetime.” Natsuo turns on the bench so that he’s facing Shouto as much as possible. “But you’re right in that, if we’re going to do this, we need to be honest with each other, and me pretending that I’m not angry would be dishonest.”

Shouto still refuses to look at him and Natsuo isn’t sure if that’s a bad thing or if he’s just processing. He knows it’s a lot to drop on a kid so it’s understandable that Shouto might need some time to sort through his thoughts.

Still turned away, Shouto finally replies, “Is that why you’re here? You just pity me?” Looking closer, Natsuo can see he’s trembling slightly and gripping onto the bench.

Pity him?! How in the hell did he get that out of what he just said?! He doesn’t even know how to respond to that!

“What?! I don’t pity you Shouto!” he’s scrambling for something to say to stop Shouto looking so sad, “I’m here because I want to have a relationship with my little brother, because you’re an amazing kid I want to get to know, because… because I want to be for you what… Touya always was for me…”

Natsuo suddenly finds himself unable to look at Shouto. That was a little more honest then even he was expecting.

Shouto whispers beside him, “I don’t want you to be Touya. We had Touya and now he’s gone. I just want you to be Natsuo.”

Natsuo looks to see that Shouto’s staring up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not angry at you for not doing anything before, you would have only gotten hurt as well and that would make me feel worse,” Shouto continues, “I just want to be able to spend time with you and call you my big brother like the other kids at school do.”

It’s so simple.

It’s so simple, and maybe a little childish. Shouto just wants to be able to spend time with him. To be able to call him big brother. Natsuo’s not sure if he’s crying or not but if he isn’t he thinks he must be on the brink. It hits him that maybe he’s been overthinking this a bit. Shouto’s right, Touya was there for him and he already had that kind of relationship, it’s time for them to make something new.

“Can… Can I give you a hug? I’d really like to do that but Fuyu’ told me you don’t like being touched.”

Shouto makes a face like he’s actually thinking about it and Natsuo has to keep himself from chuckling fondly. Suddenly he just flings himself at Natsuo and wraps himself around him. It’s a little messy, enough that Natsuo recognises he’s probably inexperienced in hugs, but at the same time it’s the best thing ever. After a brief moment of recuperation, Natsuo wraps his arms around his little brother for what feels like the first time.

And for the first time, they feel like a family.