#definitely think there is a long period of adjustment phase for her but also this big sense of loss

[szynkaaa]

I think my OC and Sun Wukong's entire relationship dynamic is that both don't think much about marriage or love or relationships, but they both clearly act like they have been married for 50 years with the way the bicker and banter but also just be there for each other but they'd totally get married and claim because it just made life easier for both of them like yeah the celestial court and all the others are getting off his back now and she has an extra layer of protection and they insist this is a marriage of convenience and yeah they're best friends ofc they love each other plus this is ancient china every second person gets married for convenience not out of love how is that any different than our marriage but outsiders can just see how loyal and head over heels they are for each other and yes there was that one accidentall kiss incident but only because Wukong was hanging upside down from the tree and she turned around too fast and their lips met each other but that doesn't mean anything-

[spilledmilkfkdies]

So ever since @calissarowan posted their Dumantlos fan child, my brain has rotting about my old Gantlogron fan child and couldn't help but ask, in your opinion how would Gantlos and Ogron be like as parents to their own child other than Duman?

Oooooo hm!!

Jk- Kinda.

Though I have given Gantlos a dead daughter from his "pre-wizard" years, so I don't doubt he has more experience. I was gonna remove her from the equation temporarily, but you said MY opinion, so I'm letting her stay 🗣🗣

Now I do think it depends on when they manage to acquire a child, in whatever way, but rn let's pick the foggy period between locking away the fairies and S4, my absolute favourite one for random stuff to take place in fr. Enough room for them to slip into a more normal lifestyle, but still with that sneaky lil "We're not done yet." to add a bit of drama oOoooOooo

All things considered though, I would like to think they do try as parents. They'd never intentionally harm their kid in any way, and they do care so very much, even if they don't always show it in the most obvious ways. But I'd hope a gantlogron baby would know that at some point, having spent enough time with them to pick up on all the cues and all that. Can I guarantee that a person raised by them is the kindest, most understanding individual around? Probably not. But neither are Ogron and Gantlos themselves, so there. I guess.

Next on my list of things I wanna bring up; would the child be magical? BECAUSE, don't get me wrong, they'd love em either way- But. I know for a fact Ogron especially would be ecstatic to learn their child had magic in there somewhere. Exploring it with them, training, that's so much more interesting to him than all the reading and writing (even though he absolutely adored all of that too, but shhhh don't tell anyone). Might go a little overboard, can definitely see that happening, so Gantlos will have to help balance it all out.

At the end of the day, I'm a "There's worse parents to have" TRUTHER idc idc. Gantlos might need a sec to adjust to things and get used to the idea of having another child after what happened to his last, but also that was so long ago fr, who's to say that even matters anymore (me??). Things would end up fine either way, Ogron would help him right through it. That and the. "I fear I'll break them with the slightest touch" period he'll undeniably go through as well. In which Ogron did all the holding, but Gantlos would be on his ass constantly about "doing it wrong", all the while being too stressed to hold the baby himself. Getting out of that phase was a joy for everyone involved.

Overall they both have their parenting flaws, but again, they're not the worst. They do a decent job and have a pretty good time. Until the kid becomes a teenager, they're gonna be fighting for their lives. Ogron is gonna "While you're under MY roof-" it up, Gantlos would pull a "Because I said so." I'm so sorry 😔😔

[secondhand-snow]

Is reader in the Arranged marriage AU happy after their wedding? I mean sure its still the honeymoon phase but once that wears off and she barely sees her husband and they have to move to the white house and then bam its his inauguration, she's suddenly so busy too with first lady tasks plus ATN interviews her regularly, its almost like they're running a Keeping Up With The Menckens show just to smother the american people that this new administration is the real deal, the new frontier, making america great forever bs 😭

yes she is!! i wholeheartedly think that they're one of those couples that you can tell are just genuinely in love with each other. like those couples that always have some form of subtle pda and you just know they're fucking twice a day.

they definitely have some issues... alluded to in arranged pt. 2, but i think they're mature enough to get over it (aka jeryd needs to talk about his feelings :P) also reader has been raised to know how to behave in public media so i don't think it would be too hard for her to adjust to the first lady life. i think she'd be really worried about it and anxiously ask mencken "did i do good? could you tell (blank)?" after every public appearance though lol.

i think the hardest thing would be how much he works and how often he's away from home. i feel like they just really want to be physically near each other all the time and reader needs physical intimacy to feel loved, so it would be hard for them to be apart for long periods of time. reader probably has a breakdown in front of him after he's gone for a week straight, all crying and asking if he still loves her. and of course he does so he fucks her really passionately and fixes the issue by just taking her with him whenever he has to go on trips. even though all his advisors think it's unnecessary.

[mariiposas]

@dominaxnoctis asked: 👀 Do you think that Dolores would eventually find ways to cope with the extra hearing sensitivity as a vampire or would she just eventually get used to all of it (if she can because that sounds like a complete sensory overload nightmare)?

congrats this awoke something in me. i have many thoughts about this so enjoy a complete disjointed ramble. dolores is implied to be able to hear a pin drop from miles away, in the middle of a crowded and bustling town, and that's without the extra senses. so right off the bat the second she gets those enhanced senses she'd have a breakdown and struggle to even maintain her sanity.

first let's exam cirque du freak specific vampire lore. assuming whoever bloods dolores does it right and makes her a half vampire first, darren was shown to spend three days with ear plugs under a pillow the second he entered a city. and he had average human capabilities. so right away that's a non starter for poor dolores. if she had any chance of survival, they would have to blood her far, far, far away from civilization. even then it'd be agonizing. she probably wouldn't even make it past the half vampire phase sadly.

but continuing cirque du freak lore, let's say that by some miracle she does survive being a half vampire and is fully blooded. now those senses are even extra heightened, forcing her to undergo another breakdown. there's be zero chance of her remotely doing well. not to mention the trials that vampires are often peer pressured to undertake, it'd be a wonder if dolores survived them at all.

this is all assuming that whoever blooded dolores is kind and nice ignores cirque du freak's vampires habits of throwing their newly blooded vamps into the fire headfirst and takes it with her bit by bit.

i can imagine with that it'd take a lot of special circumstances aligning in her favor to make it to full vampirehood and end in good standing with the council and the generals. now that i think about it if she's given time to adjust and develop her coping strategies, i can picture her sailing through the trials with ease. let's take the fire trial, for example. she'd be able to hear more than darren and likely end up dancing with the flames. the water maze trial? even with hearing dampening and those soft shoes she'd be able to hear and memorize the routes.

however, now the REAL fun begins. in an ideal scenario, i can actually imagining dolores thriving as a cirque du freak style vampire. she'd stay in the mountain, in the quiet, and lots of ambient nice noise and overall get used to it. plus, the night is way quieter than the day. she'd likely be pressured to become a general, because come on, they'd definitely want someone with that level of hearing working for them closely. nobody would turn traitor again, nobody would be able to get away with shit, nobody would be able to get the drop on them because dolores hears all.

under the cut is regular vampire lore bc this is getting long.

for regular vampire lore, i.e just being thrust into it by whoever bit her and turned her, would be somehow easier and harder than her as a cirque vampire.

she wouldn't have the relative grace period that comes with being a half vampire, meaning she'd get the extra senses all at once. but she also wouldn't be thrown into test after test, trial after trial. so she'd have a longer adjustment period and an easier time getting used to everything and developing coping strategies over time as opposed to being forced to figure it out right at that instant. she'd likely spend a year or two hiding in a cave, steadily getting more and more progressive towards society.

eventually? she'd be able to handle it. it would take a lot of work, and she'd probably need someone to help her along the way, but she'd get there! she wouldn't enjoy draining someone of blood, and she'd probably even feed cirque style in a normal vampire verse.

again, she'd probably even thrive. night is always quieter, and she'd have the freedom to take things at her own pace and be in enviornments that are comfortable for her.

overall though? no matter how you shake it all comes down to her surviving that critical period between blooding/turning and new coping strategies. either she dies within a year or two due to overstimulation or just ending it... or she becomes the queen of the night and a formidable vampire.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[popurikat]

Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3

Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.

Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator

No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies. 

Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert. 

She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it. 

Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt. 

 Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.

Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.

It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right. 

Part 3: How come the films did it better?

The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”

The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.

BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.

Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?

 The simple answer? No.

The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect?  If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test. 

Final thoughts:

I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 120

Time for some of the more technical stuff! These chapters take the longest to write, without fail, largely because I made the dumb (in retrospect) decision early on to choose and actual known-exoplanet (Kepler 442b) to base Von on *facepalm*. Which means an inordinate amount of fact checking and maths when I get to the chapters like this one.

Thanks for this chapter to go @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for beta-reading, and @nasa for the phenomenal amount of information that is publicly available for me to use when writing chapters like this.

Xiomara leaned back in her seat and propped her feet on the table in my office, ignoring the scowl Alistair shot in her direction. With a sigh, she folded her hands behind her head. “The next gravity adjustment is soon, now that Miys has medically cleared everyone from the last one.”

I nodded. “Grey and Antoine’s recommendation of increasing cardio seems to have made a huge difference in the adjustment period for most people. I definitely recovered faster.”

“And after this one, the lighting changes will start phasing in?”

“Once we can come to an agreement on how far we plan to institute the adjustments,” I pointed out. “I don’t understand any need to replicate outdoor light cycles when humanity literally experienced a cultural revolution after we developed a safe method of artificial indoor lighting.”

“That same cultural revolution also led the way for the events that brought us here,” she rebutted without looking away from the ceiling. Raising one hand and twirling it lazily, she repeated the arguments we had listened to for nearly a year. “Adhering more closely to Von’s natural light cycles will minimize ecological impacts.”

“Except that we are using sustainable light sources.” I flicked my finger at one of the wall emitters nearby. “Grey’s team made some pretty strong improvements on the microalgae lamps that were used Before.” While we still used more conventional forms of light for things like our databands and the desk emitters, ambient light in the Terran areas of the Ark was largely provided by what were - essentially - terrariums of algae, fungi, and dinoflagellates. Thanks to Miys’ assistance and a lengthy explanation of why our sight developed to work better in certain wavelengths, the light was closer to a yellow than a blue or green that was more common to Terran bioluminescence. “We literally grow our light now, don’t we?”

Xiomara tilted her head and cracked one eye at me. “They have a point, you know.”

“Make it make sense to me,” I invited her.

“Bear in mind, I don’t remember all the fancy science terms -” I snorted, but allowed it. She continued. “But in basic terms, night on Von lasts pretty close to two Terran months. Yes, we would have roughly the same amount of time to charge solar batteries, but it would require a lot of them to make it two months, especially with how cold the nights are.  By extending the interior light cycle as far as we can, we use less of the power we’ve saved up.”

“And just making more batteries has environmental impacts,” I ventured slowly.

“The planet isn’t terribly metal rich,” she pointed out. “Any resources we have for making batteries should be reserved for replacing or repairing, not allocated to making as many as possible. We’re getting a boost from the planet already, since we’ll have ready access to geothermal heat.”

Frowning, I flicked my wrist and brought up my datapad. “Von is tectonically stable, isn’t it?”

She flashed a quick thumbs-up. “No shifting plates, but there is still a molten core and geothermal activity.  In this case, most of the bodies of water are hot springs, and there are no oceans.”

“That’s going to be weird,” I mused. “Rivers, lakes, and a sea or two, but no oceans…”

“I take it you haven’t had time to check out the topography scans,” she laughed. “There aren’t really any mountains, either. Not the kind we’re used to - no tectonic shifting, no huge mountains. Any geological features are from erosion instead.”

I tried to imagine it before shaking my head to bring myself back to the original topic. “Day cycles. We were talking about adjustments to the lighting cycles.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “We’ve already extended them out to thirty hours so far.”

“But Grey wants to go as far as mimicking the sixty Terran day cycles that Von naturally has,” I sighed. “There has to be a compromise.  Your explanation makes sense, but it still doesn’t quite justify pushing it out that far.”

“Compromise is your thing. Arguing is mine.”

I scowled at her again. “That’s unfair.”

“And yet you aren’t saying I’m wrong.” I could hear her smile even without seeing her face. “If you figure out the compromise, I’ll argue it for you.”

“Seriously?”

She waved her hand at me lazily. “Hey, just because I see the logic behind Grey’s idea, it doesn’t mean I agree with setting the day/night cycle for the whole Ark to match the one for the planet. Your argument about the Industrial Revolution has merit, too. Just… leave out the Industrial Revolution part.”

Fair point. Xio had eviscerated that argument right off the bat, so surely Grey would see the same point. “Then I need a new angle.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. Thinking out loud, I started rambling. “Invention of the light bulb led to the Industrial Revolution because employees could work later into the night with safer light to see by inside factories. Inside…” Something about that was nagging me.

Leaning forward, I smacked my hands flat on the table, startling Xiomara into flailing to keep her balance. “Inside. You mentioned you don’t agree with the day/night cycle for the whole Ark. I’ve been looking at this all wrong.” I shook my head. “We don’t have to worry about all of the Ark.  I keep thinking about the Ark as all one building, but it isn’t. It’s like its own city… Which means we have an ‘indoors’ and an ‘outdoors’!”

Xiomara kicked her legs off the table and sat up. “What are you talking about? Technically, the whole ship is ‘indoors’, isn’t it?”

I made a vague gesture at her with my left hand. “Only in super literal terms. But if you look at it from this perspective…” I pulled up a ship schematic and flicked it to the emitter. Tapping BioLab 2, the corridors, and a few other areas of the ship, I highlighted them bright yellow. “These public areas could be considered ‘outdoors’. Streets and sidewalks, a park, et cetera, you see?”

Tilting her head thoughtfully, she started drumming her fingers. Tapping eating areas, the Council offices, and a few quarters, she made them light up pink. “And these would be ‘indoors’, right? Offices, restaurants, apartments, those kinds of things?”

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “We can start by agreeing to start extending the day/night cycles in areas considered ‘outdoors’ to match Von’s cycle. Nothing to really argue with there - we will have to adjust to it eventually, and doing it in increments over the next eight years will be easier on us than doing it suddenly when we get to the planet. Just like what we’re doing with the gravity.”

“That leaves us with deciding a cycle for the indoor areas.”

“And we can work on figuring that out.  We’ll have more weight in negotiating there, since we’re absolutely conceding with the outdoor areas,” I pointed out.

She nodded thoughtfully. “We almost have a blank check there, I would think. As long as you could defend the energy needed, they really wouldn’t be able to argue.”

“I may have to take that up with Grey, directly.  I don’t think it would be a good idea to go beyond thirty-six hours, and that would be with two rest periods, not just one like Before.”

Xiomara shook her head, locs flying. “Most cultures didn’t do that, you know that, right? Mid-day naps were the norm all over the world, even when we were toe-to-toe with FTL emigration.”

“Even better,” I smiled. “I mean, who is going to argue with a mid-day nap? Not this girl.”

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[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Your Power Over Me: One - Beginning

Summary: this movie was not that great.....it had so much potential. But I’m going through some sort of weird JGL phase and I really like his character in this. Another cop but at least he’s not a bastard. His character has zero backstory besides loving and living in nola so I’m giving him a FAMILY BITCH. This’ll prolly take place right before the events of the movie. 

Pairing: Frank Shaver x OFC (Michelle Shaver)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mega fluffy so wooooo

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Frank pulled up to the house and parked the car on the side of the street. It was late. Later then he said he would be. He definitely missed bedtime by now. Again. Third time this week. At least this time he’d remembered to shoot her a text. He sighed, pulling his hands over his face. He was so tired. He killed the engine but continued to sit there for a moment. 

What he saw tonight was indescribable. Unfathomable. That suspect…What he could do was beyond any normal human. Almost like he had….

Frank shook his head. No. If he thought about it too much it would make that next word a reality. Something that was plausible, tangible, something that wasn’t just on the movie screen or in the pages of a comic book. 

He got out of the car. 

The path that led up to the front porch was lined with purple flowers, freshly planted for the new, colder season. She had told him when she was working in the yard that day what they were. Something that started with an F — he couldn’t remember. His mind had probably been too distracted that day thinking about a case. He’d look it up later. The white paint of the porch was chipped, but the matching siding was pristine. Newly painted over after she finally convinced him that the periwinkle purple that the house was before was rather hideous. She wanted the front door untouched though, a bright turquoise blue. 

The house was dark and quiet when he came in. He kicked off his boots at the door, adding them to the pile of tiny sparkly slip-ons, pink Crocs, and flip-flops with the little elastic strap on the back to keep them on tiny feet better. The living room was speckled here and there by toys. She had probably given up on forcing the issue of cleaning when they were just going to get pulled out the next day anyway. He smiled. He hoped they had a good day — he wished he could’ve asked her about it. 

He stopped in Claudia’s room first. The bedroom had a pink haze, the little machine on her bedside table projecting hearts and unicorns on the ceiling to help her sleep. Claudia had moved into a big-girl bed just a few weeks ago. He thought she still looked so small in it. Wasn’t it just yesterday he could fit her entire body in one arm? Now she was old enough to sleep in a bed with no rails? The crib she had been using before was pushed into the corner of the room, waiting for the newest Shaver to arrive. 

God, he hoped it was another girl. He didn’t know if they could afford to buy all new clothes for a boy. 

Claudia was asleep in the center of the bed. Frank chuckled quietly to himself. Just like her mom. Pillow still at the head of the bed, curled in on her side with the blankets barely covering her legs. Her dark hair just like his in messy double french braids. He sat down quietly at the edge of the bed. He looked at her for a moment. 

When she was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. She came into the world bright blue and not breathing. The first time he saw her he had been so scared. Scared for her life, scared of failing her. And for a long time after, even when the doctors got her breathing and free of the umbilical cord, he only looked at her with fear in his heart. A whole life — his responsibility. But now he only looked at her with love. A love so strong he was sure it would make the wind change directions. Everything he did, he did for her. His little Claudia. 

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her warm cheek. God, she got so sweaty at night. 

“I love you, Cloudy,” he whispered, “Sweet dreams.” 

He left her with one final kiss and the door cracked open how he knew she liked it. From the dark hallway, he could see that their bedroom light was on. He sighed. She shouldn’t have waited up for him. But he also knew that he was powerless to stop her. 

Michelle was sitting up on her respectful side of the bed under the covers. Her bright, copper hair was thrown up into a bun at the top of her head. She held a book, about halfway finished, in her hands. An empty mug that once was filled with tea if Frank had to guess sat on her nightstand. She smiled at him when he gingerly opened the door, a soft, tired thing that made him feel even more exhausted than he did before. 

“Hey, baby,” he sighed as he shut the door behind himself. 

“Hi,” Michelle whispered back. She closed her book and set it down beside her empty mug. 

Frank let out a long breath. He might have been in his house for nearing on five minutes, but he didn’t feel like he was home until he saw her. Then the more he looked at her, the more he thought about the things he saw that night; and the more he thought about that the more tired he became. He felt surprising tears prick the backs of his eyes. And she seemed to notice them, those unwanted tears that hadn’t even fallen yet, her face buckling in concern. 

“Frankie?” 

She moved to get up but he held up a hand. He groaned as he pulled at his nose, rubbed at his eyes. Trying to force the tears back and keep his head on his shoulders. He pulled off his badge and gun first, setting them on top of the dresser by the door. Then he stripped himself down to his underwear, leaving his clothes where they lay. He’d pick them up tomorrow. He slid in beside her on top of the covers, laying his head on her chest and placing a hand on her swollen belly. Michelle instantly wrapped him up in her arms, one hand running through his short hair. 

“Rough night?” she asked quietly, giving the top of his head a quick kiss. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“Not yet.” He pulled her a little closer. “Just talk to me for a little while? At least until the baby cries.” 

Michelle chuckled. “She’s not a baby anymore, Frankie.” 

“She’ll always be my baby girl.” He moved down and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “At least until this one gets here.” 

They had never discussed having a second kid. Both of them were perfectly content with the one — especially for financial reasons. But then Michelle’s period never came, she took a test, and sure enough, she was pregnant again. About five months along now. They were happy, Claudia was ecstatic to be a big sister. But they also had to live with the reality that Frank was an underpaid detective, Michelle worked part-time as a florist, and they lived in only 700 square feet of house. Things were going to be tight until Michelle could go back to work full time and Frank finally got that raise he had been promised. They had made it through worse. They could make it through this. 

“I don’t know — I just have a feeling this one’s a boy.” 

Frank looked up at her with a smirk. “A feeling? A feeling where?” 

“In my…Motherly instinct.” She hit him gently when he laughed. “You cops follow your gut — we mom’s gotta follow our instinct. Millions of years of evolution was not for nothing.” 

“Okay, fine.” He chuckled a few more times before he moved so his head was back on her chest. “How was your day?” 

“It was good. Worked today. Donna says hi by the way. First arrangement of the day was an apology. The client specifically asked for Star of Bethlehem and Ivy. Donna and I are sure he cheated. Then I did an anniversary piece with Eucalyptus, Scabiosa — they’re a dark dark purple flower, I think you’d like them — Sweet Peas, Spirea — “ 

“The guy picked up the car and threw it at us,” Frank suddenly spoke, eyes lost somewhere between the present and the past. 

He was sure that Michelle heard him, but she still asked, “What?” 

“Suspect robbed a pawn shop — we had him cornered in an alley. Then he picked up an abandoned car and threw it at us.” 

“Was anyone hurt?” she asked. 

“No — well, just the suspect. Next minute he was rolling around on the ground screaming his head off. Medical said that nearly every muscle in his body had detached from the bone.” He felt her shudder beneath him. 

“That sounds awful,” she whispered, “Must be some kind of new drug or?” 

“Nobody knows,” he sighed, “Captain didn’t even wanna talk about it when we got back to the station. We’ve been getting…A lot of weird calls lately.” 

Michelle adjusted herself so that she and Frank were laying side by side. Curled on her side and nose to nose with the man she loved. “Just stay safe…That’s all I ask.” 

“You know I do, baby.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “Anything to come back to you.” 

“You’ve got a power over me, Franklin Shaver.” She smiled, her light brown eyes crinkling at the edges, and he could feel his heart lift in his chest. A weight lifting off of him. “You gonna hold it over me?” 

This, right here, was warmth and light and home. As long as she was there waiting for him, with open arms and a smile, nothing could get him down. No case could be too dark, too dangerous, too bleak. She was his source of power, his energy, his everything. What more could he possibly need than his family? 

“For the rest of our lives, baby.” 

The door creaked open. Frank instantly shot up in bed, that gut feeling taking over him as he shielded Michelle with one arm. But then he saw little Claudia standing in the doorway. Messy braids hanging limp on her shoulders, favorite blanket cradled in her arms, and chubby cheeks red with sleep. Her eyes were barely cracked open as she walked into her parent’s bedroom. 

“Cloudy, baby, what’s wrong?” Michelle asked as Frank visibly relaxed beside her. 

The toddler walked further into the room, to Frank’s side of the bed. She shook her head. “Daddy.” 

“You just want Daddy?” 

Claudia nodded her head and Frank scooped her into his arms. God, she was sweaty. “All right, let’s go back to bed, okay?” 

He moved to get up from the bed but Claudia began to fuss. Whining and kicking at him with her little feet. Frank held her legs down. “Nah-ah. Use your words.” 

“Stay ‘ere with…Daddy.” 

Frank looked over to Michelle. She had her head cocked to one side and a smile on her face. “I think someone missed you today.” 

“I missed you too, baby-girl.” Frank kissed the top of her head and tucked her into bed between him and Michelle. “Let’s go to bed and you can snuggle me all night long.” 

Frank got under the covers and Michelle turned off the light. Claudia burrowed herself into his chest, her favorite blanket tucked between them. Frank looked at Michelle one last time in the darkness. She had let her hair down for the night. Copper tresses hanging well past her shoulders and fanned out across her pillow. 

He had been so tired before. So drained of all energy. But now, laying there with his little girl against his chest and the love of his life beside him, he could feel all that energy coming back. The power he needed to get up in the morning and face another day of crime, cruelty, and corruption in New Orleans.

[soft-dyke-omo]

all in your head - a supercorp omo fic

I’ve been working on this for weeks and I’ve daydreamed about working on this in intricate detail for months. Not betaed because I can’t stand to look at it anymore.

If this shows up in the supercorp tag even though I didn’t tag it - I’m so sorry, this is about Lena pissing her pants. Don’t look. 

It’s all in your head.

Maybe, if Lena kept telling herself that, she’d speak it into existence.

You’re just nervous. It’s your first date after all.

And honestly, it was bad enough that something as trivial as a date could phase her like this. It had never been like this before, she’d been sure the so-called “first date jitters” were a fabrication of the romance novels her mother had dismissed as mindless drivel. And she’d been inclined to believe her. Up until now, dates had been nothing more but a business transaction to her, and like all business transactions, she’d been calm, collected and aloof throughout. Also, like all business transactions, most of them turned out to be orchestrated by her mother.

But that was before Kara, before weak knees and fluttering hearts and -

It’s all in your head.

You don’t have to use the bathroom.

It didn’t matter now anyway, because at this moment she saw storming into the restaurant, cutting a corner dangerously close and almost taking a waiter with her, before she arrived at the table Lena had reserved for them, out of breath and beaming.

“Sorry I’m late!”, she panted, frantically pulling her blouse into place when she noticed the blue of her supersuit peeking out from beneath. There was no need for pretence between them, but she had to protect her identity to the public, especially when she was this bad at lying.

“Nonsense, darling. I’m sure it was important.”

“Not more important than you. Not to me.”

Well, and there she was, completely disarmed by the charming blonde. Checkmate in 3 moves. She couldn’t fight the smile that spread over her features, and maybe she didn’t want to, because she knew the effect it had on Kara. An effect that became evident when Kara just stood there, smiling back at her, for a total of ten seconds before remembering to sit down in their booth, across the table from Lena.

For a second, Lena wondered idly what her mother would think of her, sitting in a restaurant that had things such as booths and served a food item designated the monster burger. It wasn’t the type of restaurant a Luthor was usually seen in, it lacked the pricey wine pairings and the menu completely written in French. But what it had was a comfortable ambiance, and the glowing recommendations of one Kara Danvers. She’d take this over the stuffy, pristine establishments her mother used to drag her and Lex into when they were children any day.

A memory flared up in some part of Lena’s brain she’d long since thought buried, a memory of white tablecloth and important investors and feet swinging off the chair because she couldn’t reach the floor, not by a long shot and she needed to go so, so bad.

Bad memory. Like touching a hot stove, she immediately forced herself to forget, to think of literally anything else.

She took a sip of her wine to distract herself, a truly bad idea as she immediately felt a pang in her bladder. Fuck. She’d already had quite a bit of wine while waiting for Kara, not mention all the coffee she’d had even before out of a nervous habit.

“Are you okay?” Her girlfriend’s concern shook her out of her ruminations.

“I’m stellar”, she replied, her voice coming out a bit pressed as she crossed her legs under the table. She took a deep breath.

It’s all in your head. You’ve been in worse situations. You can hold it.

“How was your day, darling?”, she asked instead, hoping to shift attention away from herself. Kara gave her a dramatic sigh. “It was torture, Lena!”

Lena chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

And Kara did. It was very strange how Lena used to hate people who couldn’t stop talking about themselves on dates, but as soon as Kara was talking, she had no intention of interrupting her. Just listening to her was enough to brighten a stressful day. The waiter stopped by their table – it was hard not feel a bit triumphant since he had been sending pitying glances over to Lena’s table while she was waiting, insisting that her date will show up any minute now – and they ordered. Kara heartily recommended their home-made elderflower sirup, and just to make her girlfriend beam at her she agreed to give it a try. It was teeth-rottingly sweet and even worse, it arrived in a tall glass, because apparently every item on the menu arrived in a portion large enough to feed a small family. She gulped down the glorified sugar water while pressing her thighs together.

She could just ask to use the bathroom. She should just excuse herself, it would be easy, she never had problems addressing her needs, why was it so difficult now?

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been a bit squirmy...is the sirup that bad?”

She hadn’t noticed her discomfort was so obvious. She really needed to get a grip…

Get a hold of yourself. The memory reared its ugly head again, with flashes of her mother’s iron grip on her hand and an icy voice hissing at her to stop squirming, to sit like a proper lady, and to never ever interrupt like that again.

As hard as she tried to repress it, the common sense that told her to just go to the bathroom got drowned out in a chorus of don’t interrupt, don’t you dare interrupt, just hold it hold it hold it.

“I’m sorry”, Lena answered, her teeth gritted against a sudden wave of desperation. “I guess I’m just nervous.” The lie passed her lips with practised ease, and she immediately felt guilty. Even worse, Kara immediately accepted this.

“Rao, I’m so glad it wasn’t just me! I’ve been going insane for three days because I couldn’t wait to go on a date with you but I was also really nervous. Alex kept making fun of me because we’ve been going out for lunch for years, but it’s different now that you are my girlfriend.” She let out a giggle, and then added: “My girlfriend. I’ll never get tired of calling you that.”

Lena didn’t answer. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from holding herself with her hands. Somewhere far away she heard Kara talking. Lena tried to focus on her words, anything to keep herself grounded in reality, to stop herself from remembering. She didn’t want to relive the shameful warmth spreading through the seat of her pants -

A spurt. No, no, she must have imagined it. Lena Luthor didn’t wet herself, she had better control than that. She surreptitiously adjusted her seating position and froze. She could definitely feel wetness in her underwear. She swallowed, blanched.  This couldn’t be happening. A quick glance downward told her it didn’t show, yet. She desperately clenched her muscles. She had to keep from panicking. With a clear head, she would find a way out of this situation. She came from a family of geniuses, she couldn’t just sit there and wait until her bladder inevitably gave out.

She glanced around – thankfully the restaurant wasn’t very full today, or any day, really. Lena had the sneaking suspicion Kara was the only one keeping them in business. And in this moment, Lena was glad for it: At least nobody would see her sitting on her heel to try and keep from giving in to her desperate need. Her face burned in shame as she adjusted, trying to angle her leg correctly – the second she lifted herself off the seat, she could feel another spurt escaping, but this one didn’t stop. She immediately dropped back down, but it kept going, saturating her pants and the seat cushion below her. Four seconds later she managed to regain control, but the damage was already done, there was no way this mishap wouldn’t be visible to everyone as soon as she stood up.

She forced herself to take deep breaths. Maybe she could salvage this. If she could just hold on until they left, she could just cover the evidence of her leaks with her jacket – but it was midsummer, of course she didn’t bring a jacket. Desperation hit her in waves, made even worse by the feeling of her wet jeans clinging to her, reminding her of the helplessness of sitting on a chair that was far to big for her, the back of her skirt soaked and dripping onto the floor, silently imploring her brother to help her, and Lex regarding her with a warm, comforting smile and icy eyes before announcing to the table that little Lena had an accident.

She didn’t know whether it was the shame of the memory or the pain of holding it, but Lena couldn’t hold back a whimper as she lost another spurt. She clenched her thighs together as hard as she could, but she was leaking periodically now, the liquid gathering on top of her lap in a hot pool. Tears were gathering in her eyes. How pathetic and yet so in character for her to cry in front of Kara – oh God, Kara. She’d be disgusted, ashamed at being seen with a Luthor who couldn’t even hold her pee like a toddler…

“Lena? You’re worrying me.” A gentle voice, and an even gentler touch on her wrist spelled disaster for her. A jolt went through Lena’s body at the unexpected feeling, and without a warning her bladder let go completely. She could hear the muffled hissing of the stream hitting her jeans. And if Lena could hear it, that could only mean that Kara could as well…

“Are...are you peeing?”

Lena couldn’t hold her tears at bay anymore. She jerked her wrist away from Kara and buried her face in her hands, sobbing, not bearing to look at the disgust she was sure she’d see on her girlfriend’s face. Ex-girlfriend, she reminded herself. There was no way Kara would ever be able to look at her and see anything but a pathetic girl who pissed her pants because she didn’t dare to ask if she could be excused. And she was still going, helplessy peeing into her pants, and by now it was splattering onto the floor noisily. She couldn’t make it stop. Finally, after what felt like hours, the stream tapered off, leaving Lena sitting alone in her puddle. She didn’t move, she didn’t want to face the world. She hoped against hope that the ground would just swallow her up.

“Oh, Lena…”

Kara’s voice took her by surprise, she’d expected her to be gone by now.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” There was a light touch on her forehead, as if trying to read her temperature, and the concern Kara showed her was all too much.

“Stop it!”, Lena hissed, turning to glare at Kara, who shrunk back into her seat. God, what was she doing, pushing Kara away like that even though she’d shown her nothing but care. Then again, she’d always been her own greatest saboteur.

“I’m not sick! I pissed myself because I’m a stupid, worthless -”

There was a burst of superspeed, and the next thing Lena knew was the feeling of soft, comforting arms around her.

“Shh, Lena. You’re not stupid, not at all. Accidents happen, baby. Let’s get you home, hm?”

Absently, she noted that she should probably be horrified at being talked down to like that. Still, as if the whole horrible ordeal had taken every ounce of her energy, she went pliant and let Kara lead her out of the restaurant and into an alley, cringing at the feeling of her heavy, soaked jeans rapidly cooling.

“Wait here, okay?”, Kara whispered to her, and in a flash, she was gone.

Gone.

Lena ran a hand through her hair. What now? The thought of her driver seeing her in this state was enough to make her feel sick, but the prospect of walking home in her soiled pants for everyone to see was even worse. She was just about to take out her phone when Kara reappeared in front of her.

“Don’t worry about Robert, he won’t tell a soul, he’s a good man. And I’m the one keeping his business afloat.”

Lena nodded dumbly, numb to everything happening to her. She felt spent and just wanted to hide in her apartment, never to be seen again.

“Come on, Lena, hold onto me.”

She realised what Kara was offering, and it was almost enough to make her cry all over again – offering to fly her home, despite everything that happened. Lena shook her head frantically. “I’m dirty...it’ll get all over you.”

“I don’t care”, Kara said, holding out her hand. Lena didn’t have the energy to refuse. She clung onto Kara as she felt her gently lift off the ground, closing her eyes and selfishly enjoying her embrace, the last she might ever share with Kara. Typical Kara, always putting others first. No wonder Lena had fallen for her as hard as she had. As they touched down on her balcony, Lena composed herself. She wanted to face their break-up with dignity – as much dignity as she could have in urine-stained pants and tear tracks on her cheeks. She let Kara guide her inside with a hand at the small of her back.

She closed her eyes. Best to get it over with.

“Thank you, Kara. I’ll be fine now. You can leave.”

“Leave? Do- do you want me to go?”

Lena scoffed. She couldn’t help it, lashing out had always been easier than being vulnerable.

“Don’t pretend like you want to stick around after what I did. After how I embarrassed you.”

“Lena, I’d never be embarrassed by you. You had an accident, they happen to everyone sometimes. I won’t leave because of that.”

Lena swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I…”

She couldn’t find words for all her swirling, chaotic feelings.

“I need to get out of these clothes.”

“Yeah, me too”, Kara said and sheepishly glanced down at the wet spot Lena had left on her when they were flying.

“Why don’t you clean up in the shower while I zip home and put on some comfy pants. I’ll be back before you’re done.” Then, as if sensing Lena’s uncertainty, she added: “I promise.”

Lena peeled off her sodden pants and put them in the hamper, then she stepped into the shower. She forced herself to take her time in cleaning up, to get her mind out of fight or flight mode like she’d discussed with her therapist. They’d talked about her past, about flashbacks and anxiety attacks, but so far it had never seemed to help her in the middle of one. After an extensive shower she put on a new outfit, stepping into her living room and exhaling a breath of relief when she saw Kara, dressed in comfy sweatpants, sprawled out on the couch while some animated movie was playing on the TV. Her girlfriend – girlfriend! - lifted one edge of the comforter she had draped around herself in a silent invitation to join her. Without hesitation, Lena crawled onto the couch next to her and leaned against Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m-”, she began, but Kara shushed her.

“If the next word out of your mouth is sorry, I don’t want to hear it. We can talk about it later if you want to, but right now, I think you need some TLC.”

Lena agreed, and snuggled closer into her girlfriend, who in turn pressed a kiss against her temple. Lena relaxed and for the first time today, she let herself believe it was going to be okay.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

Hello, everyone! I will have another  20k chapter of Baghdad Waltz posting tomorrow, but in the meantime, here are answers to some intriguing Asks you sent me. 

CW for some discussion of sexual assault. Spoilers for BW through Chapter 34.

Oh, thank you so much! I love writing these and other secondary characters and giving them life and a backstory that will probably never, ever see the light of day. I have enough head canon to write whole side fics for both Winnie and Rikki. I love Winnie in particular, though I know she can be a divisive character. Winnie has not been a perfect mother, even though (like pretty much every mother) she has tried her best, which is one reason I really enjoy writing her. I usually see Winnie written in fic as either a straight saint or, less often, a villain, so I wanted to give her some more dimension. I will keep up with these characters as the fic continues!

A COUPLE OF SHARON QUESTIONS:

Wow, good catch! Yes, this was mentioned one time back in Chapter 17, when Sharon first disclosed to Steve that she was pregnant. As with many of the things like this that I throw in the fic, it serves multiple purposes.

First, I included this biographical information because of how common sexual violence is — at least 1 in 6 women will be victims of sexual violence in their lifetime. I wanted to also show that a) it can happen to “tough” women, which we would likely argue Sharon is/was, as an Army Reserve Officer attending the University of Virginia, and b) even though she still blames herself (at least to some degree) for “letting” it happen, she’s still an overall well adjusted person who can have healthy, intimate, functional relationships, a successful career, and good self-esteem. This hasn’t ruined her life, and I think that’s an important counter message to have in a fic that’s so laden with characters who suffer deeply and chronically with their trauma. Trauma doesn’t always end in PTSD - in fact, statistically, it usually doesn’t. This will likely come up again later in the fic in another context as well.

Thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the read! As to whether Steve feels trapped by Sharon re: fatherhood, I imagine the details are a bit fuzzy to remember, because it’s been so long since that part of the fic, but I doubt he feels that way. He knows that Sharon has always been lukewarm about the family stuff while he has been dreaming about kids since he was, well, a kid. He knows that she didn’t intend to get pregnant and only got that way because her birth control failed due to an unintended interaction with St. John’s Wort (an herb with antidepressant properties she took to avoid going to behavioral health while he was deployed). As for deciding to keep the baby after becoming attached to it while she was pregnant, despite her previous lack of interest in being a mother, he likely wouldn’t have hard feelings against her for that.

If anything, I imagine Steve probably blames himself for having sex with her while he was home on leave, having just cheated on her with Bucky and not disclosing his cheating prior to having the sex that led to this kid in the first place. Had he told her as soon as he got home, she surely would have told him to go kick rocks, and there would be no Ethan. But he was scared and irresponsible and they were drunk... and now here they are. 

And although Ethan certainly feels chaotic and stressful for him because kids can feel that way and because he gets overwhelmed easily, he’s wanted to be a father for so long that he likely sees Ethan as a strong motivator for him to recover from PTSD and the effects of TBI. Certainly a much stronger motivator than Bucky, because in his mind, Bucky can fuck off and cheat on him or abandon him a thousand times over, but Ethan will always be his son. And even though he struggles to be the kind of father that he wants to be, Ethan and fatherhood is at least something very tangible for him to work toward.

Great questions! Thank you!

Ah yes, it’s hard to tell what’s going on with their relationship now, because it’s Bucky, who is at times a horribly unreliable narrator. He’s got so much baggage around the Army and not being part of it anymore, and there’s this piece about Sam having the career he wishes he could still have, and Sam having the personal life he could have had with Natasha in some bizarre permutation of reality. And Sam has been deployed, so he’s probably not able to talk much, and Bucky has terrible attachment problems and interprets behavior… not always very realistically. So he might interpret Sam’s distance (logistical, because he’s busy, because they have less to talk about, because they are moving in different directions) as a sign that their friendship was “weird” or that Bucky is “gross” or whatever Bucky is assuming because he’s going through his own shit right now. In short, it’s very possible that Bucky is projecting a lot of his personal stuff onto Sam, like assuming that a pretty normal phase of life transition is actually a sign that he’s being rejected.

But there is a separate issue of Bucky’s friendships getting physical and having these blurred boundaries with friendships. There’s yet-undisclosed stuff in the past that he’s referring to, so unfortunately you can’t see that yet, but he’s drawing on that, and he’s looking at this cuddling behavior (the “snack cake” scene etc.), and I’ll go ahead and say it, since it may never make it into the narrative, but Bucky would definitely have fucked Sam, if he showed even the slightest genuine sexual interest. Bucky has a bad track record with making good friendships in general, and almost all of his close friendships end up getting sexual or para-sexual. Take Steve. They had a pretty intensely physical friendship that got para-sexual and then sexual, and, interestingly, the intimacy that they shared in their friendship also took a nosedive when they really got sexual, but that’s another matter entirely.

So to answer your question, Bucky and Sam didn’t do anything explicitly sexual, but I think Bucky knows he would have, and now that he’s learning about boundaries in DBT, he’s probably wondering about theirs, and he’s looking at these patterns in his life right now, and he’s also just scrambling to figure out why they’re not good friends anymore. I mean, he also really just misses him and the Army, and he’s mourning for both. He’s kind of flailing around here, and that could be another reason why this doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. But you didn’t miss anything. He’s mostly wrapping himself around the axil over something that may or may not even be a thing. [sigh]

In other words, is Steve a Buckysexual, so to speak? I also am a bisexual person, and I take my bisexual characters pretty seriously (hoo boy). I can see why this might be a big question in people’s minds, because we haven’t seen a very broad swathe of Steve’s sexuality in this fic. He’s very much a monogamist who tends towards longer term relationships, if he can help it (not a guy who does casual fucks well, obvs). We started the fic proper while he was in a relationship with Sharon, then he went to Bucky, and then his sexuality went into hibernation, and now he’s climbing out of that, and we’ve had references to girlfriends in the past peppered along the way.

I’d classify Steve as a late-blooming bisexual. He graduated high school at 16, so he was really coming more fully into his sexuality after he left that environment, and that’s when his interest in Bucky started to fire up. Bucky was the first male he fixated on sexually, which parlayed into a sexual relationship for almost 2 years but then flamed out. Then Steve went into a long sexual hibernation after his mother died and he felt jilted by Bucky’s perceived abandonment, but then he was at the U.S. Military Academy, surrounded by hot young men at their peak fitness and— I will not say more specifically, because this is probably actually going to be addressed in the fic. 

But let it suffice to say that Steve is not a Buckysexual. One could also look at the way he fantasized about Bucky in the coffee house to see some clues to his sexual interest in other men. He wasn’t just into Bucky - he was into all these other guys too, jerking off while watching, all the dicks on the wall.... you know. He has had more relationships with women, so behaviorally he would seem to lean more toward women, but I would not say that women are necessarily his default preference. If Bucky were not in his life and they split to opposite corners of the Earth, never to speak again, I think he would be pretty open about the gender of his parter. As long as they let him put their genitals in his mouth, he’d be a happy camper ;)

And FINALLY: 

Ah yes, I believe you’re referring to the line “Bucky is still an alcoholic, ‘interpersonally unskilled,’ deeply imprinted from God knows what traumas, and really, who knows how willing to actually change, if change means being honest and shining light in the dark places he’s always kept Steve from, no matter how much he’s begged to see them.” Yes? 

So, prior to them separating in 2002, I would say that Bucky and Steve’s dynamic probably went a lot like this:  

Bucky was pretty contained on the outside most of the time, with periods where the he was a flaming dumpster fire just beneath the surface and brief episodes where he was dysregulated and really struggling obviously. The latter looked like, say, showing up drunk to Steve’s and saying cryptic things like “I’m disgusting” and sticking his hand up Steve’s shirt… or his post-Ground-Zero “fuck me/I’m totally fucking falling apart drunk” thing, etc.  And Steve, after these episodes, was probably like, “You know you can talk to me, right? Please. I just want to help.” And Bucky most assuredly responded with something like, “I’m good thx.”

I think Steve probably suspected for years that Bucky has stuff from his childhood (he would be absolutely dense not to), but I want to say that he probably both wants to know it and is terrified to know it. So his “begging” probably looks like gently imploring in a not too insistent way whenever Bucky does one of these big meltdown-y things. And then when they argue, Steve probably whips out the old, “You keep everything from me! I don’t know who you are! I have to beg you to tell me anything!” because that’s how these things usually go down. And Bucky would never volunteer anything and most assuredly lies about many things overtly and lies by omission alllll the time. So yeah, I would say that this a not-so-reliable-narrator situation but with a strong flavor of truth behind it. If that makes any sense at all. 

Thank you so much for the wonderful questions!! What a joy to receive them. More tomorrow. 

[diguerra-moved]

How long does it take dark ranger Alleria to accept and adjust to being undead? Does she blindly follow Sylvanas' command? How does being Forsaken impact the other relationships she has?

NOT RANDOM ASKS BECAUSE I EXPLICITLY ASKED FOR DARK RANGER AU STUFF // always accepting asks about anything tbh.

She takes a little while to adjust, I’d say, and part of it is precisely that she would not follow Sylvanas blindly. In life, Alleria’s approach towards undeath is complicated because while she does not see the undead inherently as monsters because of their monstrous condition, there is of course a natural aversion to their state, but one she’d be able to overcome. The thing is she never had the opportunity to approach them (and by them I mean Sylvanas, as she didn’t really have contact with other Forsaken) in an actual neutral state, because Vereesa’s account of events already made her expect to find her sister twisted beyond recognition, and while Alleria tries to not let this influence her reunion with Sylvanas, it obviously does, and Sylvanas’ actions later do very little to prove it wrong, actually. So while initially I don’t think she’d actually be prejudiced, she has come to think that undeath corrupts people into something evil somehow, because no one is what they were in life. To some extent, it is obvious one can’t remain completely unchanged with dying and becoming Forsaken, both because of what led them to this, or because of the treatment they receive, or because, well, the worldview of an undead and a living person is bound to be different, considering they themselves are so different, and although none of it means necessarily evil, it would be something she’d have difficulty in separating, with how she perceives Sylvanas’ changes.

As to the process itself, under no circumstances I think she’d be expecting to be risen as Forsaken, so there would be shock and obvious disorientation but I think Alleria would manage to get over it fairly soon. The initial confusion and fear of being raised as undead would allow for Sylvanas to find her less antagonistic, since, well, Alleria would be too busy dealing with the new nature of her reality to be concerned with fighting Sylvanas. Her adaptation process would in fact be more complicated after she was already aware and fully in control of her mind again. 

The initial period would open the path for her and Sylvanas to actually talk and establish a more cordial relationship again, but Alleria would hold on to her living morals, which means she’d still oppose much of Sylvanas’ antics, which also might mean she… wouldn’t get along well with many of the other Forsaken, at least those fervently devout to their Dark Lady, because Alleria wouldn’t have qualms about voicing disagreements and critique. I think there are two (three?) main points as to why she’d stick with Sylvanas still: 1. with faction war raging on, being a factionless undead that belongs to no group is probably not a clever idea 2. seeing how Sylvanas and the Forsaken work from an inside perspective would make it blatantly clear to her Sylvanas sorely needs someone who’d present counterpoints to her so she’ll be kept in check and not go around promoting genocide 3. even in life, part of her still clung to their bond as sisters, and it makes sense that in her new state and with Sylvanas being the first and most important provider of support and guidance where undeath is concerned, this would be strengthened.

And while I think she wouldn’t have a huge ‘the horror! I am a terrible monster now’ phase, she’d struggle with the changes. Mostly, I think Alleria would struggle with the cut ties to nature, because she’s very attuned to it (“She put a hand to her heart as if it physically hurt, and for a moment Khadgar roused from his own despair to pity her. She was an elf, a child of forests and trees and growing, healthy lands. She looked stunned, sickened—almost as sick as Khadgar felt.”, this is about arriving in Draenor, a land she honestly couldn’t care less for and probably would found the orcs deserved to have that lifelessness in their homeland, but it still hurts her, not necessarily because she’s an elf like Khadgar thinks, but because of how attuned to natural life she is), and becoming a creature of death and having that taken away would be very difficult for her to adapt to, more so due to the absence of it than adapting to make use of shadows instead (on that regard, her ties to the void would probably be somewhat helpful). It is the severed bond, the walking through a forest not as part of it but as an intruder, a thing that does not belong there with her being a creature of death, that would be painful to adjust to.

tldr: It would take a while because she’d have fundamentally different morals she’d cling to, and most other Forsaken being as unquestionably loyal to Sylvanas likely would clash with Alleria’s outspoken criticism, since she would not follow her sister blindly. When it comes to undeath itself, I think she’d get over the initial confusion fairly quickly, but truly adapting to her new form and how it changes the manner she interacted with the world would take a while longer.

And now, as to that last question, it would impact a lot on her relationships, probably.

I think ultimately it would actually improve her relationship with Sylvanas because Alleria would be able to see her from a more similar standpoint. They might clash, yes, but Alleria would try to stick with her and actually be a more positive sort of influence on her. Would Sylvanas take that well? Probably not, but Alleria would try, and they’d be on the same side and together and it is a vast improvement from I should have killed you last we met lol. Considering my headcanon for their relationship is that when they were both alive they were the kind of siblings who fought a lot but would also stand up for each other against anything, I think an echo of this dynamic would return to their relationship with time. They’d clash constantly, but in the end they’d stick together.

Which might end up impacting on Vereesa too? Since Alleria and Vereesa were the last living ones and now its Vereesa, but Alleria even in undeath isn’t by any means manipulative like Sylvanas is, or as entirely changed (she didn’t have to suffer the traumatic events Sylvanas faced in dying and becoming undead, after all). Maybe Vereesa would react to it horribly, but then that would be just her having a problem with the undead. Maybe it would allow for Alleria to bridge the gap between Vereesa and Sylvanas somewhat. I don’t really know tbh, but I lean more towards the later.

As to Turalyon, well, if her marriage hadn’t already ended up until this point, it surely ends with her death (and undeath) lol. Turalyon wouldn’t accept it at all, he’d probably believe it would be more merciful to kill her permanently than let her exist as undead. Classic case of living people rejecting formerly loved ones turned Forsaken because they’re unnatural monsters and all of that tbh (Alleria… already isn’t happy in her marriage, and she’d definitely know his reaction would be bad, so honestly I don’t think she’d even bother trying to meet him again; it surely would happen eventually, but not because she tried to reach out to him tbh).

Arator is ? A big question mark. I don’t know. I don’t know if he’d be willing to look past her being undead now, if he’d still see her as her and not a monster. If he rejected her, it would be what would break her heart the most. He I think she’d try to reach out to. Not personally at first, probably, but still, she’d definitely try. If it would change their relationship a lot I am uncertain of, considering there is a lot of hesitance and testing waters and getting to know each other as is. I think it would either remain mostly unchanged or become nonexistent because he’d side with his father. I really don’t know though.

Alleria would have no loyalty to the Horde, even if she stayed with Sylvanas. Undeath does not change her hatred towards the orcs, for example (and in her head there would be a clear distinction between working with Sylvanas and the Horde; she’s there for her sister personally, but if you say she’s Horde she’ll... not react well, probably). How she interacted with people from the Alliance would mostly be a case by case thing. The discourse about the Alliance not accepting her back even after everything she did for them would be... only somewhat effective. It would work to make her look down on those who’d have accepted her there as leader of the Ren’dorei but will not now that she’s Forsaken, but it wouldn’t really make that disliking spread to other people who don’t think like that. She wouldn’t resent the Alliance as a whole, I think, though she would come to understand better the rest of the Forsaken resenting them tbh.

[joanndromeda]

December 31st is the one day that sort of naturally forces us to put forth a fair amount of reflection about ourselves, whether we want to or not. Is it the one time we all truly find clarity? Or the one time we all actually forgive ourselves? I don’t know. Despite so many circumstances destroying me, and leaving me feeling like I’m standing on just one leg with all my other limbs severed, I really, truly can’t believe I made it to this very last day.

The new year is so important for all of us. Obviously, we don’t change overnight. But we’re allowed 365 new days for rebirth, healing, love, and redemption.

I have important personal goals for myself. Goals that are better for my overall health, goals that are manageable, and most importantly, goals that I can measure quantitatively. As part of the laws and principles that govern human behavior, goals are difficult to achieve because the consequence is not immediate. We aren’t immediately rewarded for our attempts. And we, understandably, want immediate results. If they’re not there when we put forth the first effort, of course our response-effort dwindles in an instant.

That’s what I’ve learned this year: goals require us; they need us--our time, our passion, our patience, our effort--to be a tangible reality. If you don’t have the minimum of these four disciplines, your goals will be hard to achieve.

But that’s what these 365 new days are for. As the earth reaches its final centimeters around the earth, we become intrinsically blessed with a new, year-long beginning.

This time, I want to make sure the goals I have for this coming year are measurable and have some sort of intervention or end-product plan, not something vague that I think I could just check off like a grocery list. Bigger goals--traveling and applying for my master’s, etc.--are already written out and in the planning phase on another platform. The goals listed here are all things I want to work on so long as I’m living and breathing. Goals that can be adjusted according to my life circumstances. Goals that are relatively manageable to pick right back up if/when I become sloppy and inconsistent about meeting them. Goals that I can pretty much work on for the rest of my life and one day, hopefully, turn them into a natural part of my lifestyle. In no particular order:

Less social media: social media is the biggest offender when it comes to having yourself compare your own life to others when you don’t want to. As long as I keep comparing my productivity and success to others, my sense of self-worth will always remain stagnant or drop. I was scrolling feed after feed way too much this year; it became an unconscious and automatic behavior. Now, open windows for social media: during my lunch break, one hour max after work, and ~15-20 minutes before my nightly routine. Free spaces will be dedicated to self-care, leisure activities, projects, and relaxation.

Stable sleeping schedule: as I’m getting older, 6-7 hours of sleep just isn’t working for me anymore. Especially for the kind of job my work entails, a major antecedent for my mediocre job falls back to my hours of sleep. Now, a minimum of 8 hours of sleep for all work days; weekends are excluded. Bedtimes will be enforced by means of a schedule, and all alarms will be set up and active for the five days of work. As I’ve learned from my field, antecedent interventions are always the most preferable.

More fruits and vegetables in diet: personally, I did a solid job including vegetables whenever I found time to cook and making a fruit smoothie for about 70% of opportunities for breakfast this year. Now, continue with the fruit smoothies because they’re healthy and convenient. Just more protein powder intake, so stock up when container is only about 1/4 full. Replace granola bars and crackers with fruits at least 50% of opportunities. As for vegetables, continue cooking with the same ones I enjoy eating. This time, they will substitute for at least 40% of carbs, as long as the amount of carbs on my plate still meets the daily nutritional intake and satisfactory satiation. Treat-yourself meals and eating out are obviously exceptions.

Cleanse face every single night: I find the main reason for all my acne this year was due to not cleansing my face consistently each night. I have the necessary products and done my research for what works for my skin; my discipline is just lacking. Now, cleanse each night as part of my nightly regimen. Each week, alternate between AHA, BHA, AHA, and BHA again, totaling 2 nights of AHA and 2 nights of BHA. In addition, tamanu oil as a nightly spot treatment, and rosehip oil mixed into moisturizer for the mornings.

More art: more art means more opportunities for practice and improvement. I completed half of my sketchbook for this year (originally hoped for full completion by end of the year). I feel that if I’m going to apply for my master’s, I’m going to have little to no time for myself to draw or paint. Start now while the free time is available, abundant, and opportune. Now, complete at least 2 art pieces per month. One must include watercolor paint. To maximize opportunities, use leftover pages from 2 old sketchbooks I own for inspiration, drafting, and doodling. This will also help me overcome artist’s block and my habit for clean perfect sketches. As of writing this, half-filled sketchbook will be completed by next June and new sketchbook will be solely dedicated to inking.

Spend more time with mom and niece: As my mom is aging and I’ve become more removed from her life, I see myself becoming more and more confused and intolerable to typical behaviors of older folks. I’m finding myself treating her like a child and being the grown-up in most of our interactions. As for my niece, I want to fill her still-malleable brain with science, the arts, and adventures with her aunt before her life becomes consumed by friends, relationships, puberty, and her own established interests. Now, each time mom visits, ask her what she would like to do while she’s here. If mom has no suggestions, find one opportunity to take her somewhere. Could be her favorite pho restaurant or Bath & Body Works. Doesn’t have to be over the top, as long as I maximize opportunities to get to know mom as she is aging, and what I can do to care for her well-being during this transitional period. For niece, make her summer vacation a meaningful and memorable time with her aunt. Dedicate my undivided self to her at least 4 different occasions during her break. Will be in the form of going to a museum, traveling in a different city, watching cartoon marathons, doing paint projects, etc.

Save money: I definitely don’t think I had any crazy spending frenzies this year. Definitely some impulsive purchases here and there, but certainly not a lot to be a point of concern. My only real issue was not having any real long-term goals this year, so I wasn’t really saving for anything. The money was just sitting there the majority of the time, and when the money was just sitting there, I found excuses to spend it because I felt I wasn’t being productive with it. Mainly food, drinks, and things for my room and wardrobe. Not a lot of useless and wasteful spending. Now, stick to my money-saving plan written out on my other platform. Because I actually have serious plans this coming year (and the next), I should be more mindful about my money.

[jancys-blue-bayou]

prompt for “we’ll figure it out”: emily always falling asleep on top of jonathan (since she was a baby)

A/N: Thanks for the great prompt! This spun into short little vignettes of them through the years.

Also on Ao3 and FFNet!

Four days old…

Emily is a clingy but sleepy baby. They come to that conclusion quickly. Both their mothers tell them how lucky they are she’s a sleepy baby as opposed to a cryer for example. According to her mom, Nancy was the latter, and she herself recalls Holly wailing in the night too. Joyce says Jonathan and Will both were similar to Emily. ”Sweet babies, but God you were so cuddly! As long as I held you you wouldn’t cry but there was a period where you’d cry soon as I put you down!”. That’s sort of how it is with Emily at this early stage. She doesn’t cry when she’s held, but try and set her down once she’s fallen asleep and she’ll instantly wake up crying, craving bodily contact. They hope Joyce is right that it’s just a phase that will pass, because though Emily is the most amazing, snuggly, cuddly, precious, awesomest thing ever, she’s not sure she’ll be able to deal with having to hold her all the time.

Because it’s still early, only their second day home from the hospital. She’s still drained from the ordeal of giving birth, she mostly sits or lies with Emily while Jonathan is running around waiting on her hand and foot. She swears it’s like he’s in multiple places at once sometimes, like when he’s somehow cooking her food, giving her a back rub, doing laundry and changing Emily’s diaper seemingly all at the same time. She felt kind of bad about just sitting on her butt while he’s darting around at light speed fixing stuff, but when she told him this he stopped in his tracks, looked at her and then pointed to Emily.

”You gave birth to her and you keep her alive, you’ve done more than I will ever even come close to doing, ever.”

Hard to argue with that when he sounds so sure.

She holds Emily most of the day. Emily eats and sleeps. That’s basically it. Well, that and tiny life-changing moments like her eyes peering open and them for a second locking gazes before Emily nuzzles in closer and falls back asleep. At night they try again to place a sleeping Emily in the bassinet by their bed, but they soon give up on it as it makes the girl bawl her eyes out. Emily stops crying soon as she picks her up again.

”You know, this is definitely your cuddle bug genes doing this,” she notes.

”Oh yeah, because you’re so cold and aloof,” Jonathan josses her.

”Fair,” she admits. Kind of has to admit considering she’s pressed into his side as usual right now, it’s second nature to her to be that close.

”I can take her,” he then offers.

She nods and carefully hands Emily over. The baby whimpers a little at first but soon as she’s resting against Jonathan’s broad chest she stops. She then lets out a big cute yawn before nuzzling in close and soon falling back asleep.

”Mm, she’s got the right idea,” she notes and adjusts herself, laying down her head in the crook of Jonathan’s neck. ”Comfiest pillow in the world.”

”Glad to be at your service,” he chuckles.

”Don’t roll over,” she mumbles into his chest before following Emily into dreamland.

Six months…

”Seriously it was awesome, their sound is amazing and he sings about like… like everything, you know? Like it just hits you so hard,” Will is beaming with excitement telling him all about a concert he went to with some friends from college last night. Some new band Jonathan’s not sure he’s heard of before, he’s been kind of out of the loop music wise recently. Other stuff kind of took the forefront.

”Yeah, totally. That’s awesome. What was their album called, again?” He asks while glancing at Emily who’s on the playmat between him and Will, currently content to just lie on her tummy clutching her dear Hopper the Bunny, that Will gave her as a newborn, in one fist while simply pounding the floor with the other while making incoherent baby noises, peering up at him. He smiles down at her.

”Nevermind,” Will tells him.

”What? No come on, I’m listening,” he insists. He really is, Will shouldn’t think he’s not interested or blowing him off just because he’s looking after the baby at the same time.

”No,” Will snorts with laughter. ”That’s the album. It’s called Nevermind. By Nirvana,” he explains.

”Oh! Gotcha. Cool, I’ll check that out.”

”I have a tape with a few of theirs on it, here,” Will fishes a mix tape out of his pocket and hands it over. ”You gotta hear Come As You Are. It’s incredible.”

”Cool,” he nods. Emily, intrigued by the new item in her line of sight reaches out for the tape in his hand.

”Awesome, she’s already into grunge. I knew you’d make a cool kid,” Will grins.

”She’s the coolest yeah,” he agrees.

”She actually almost looks like their album cover, kind of. But all babies look the same so. Well, except she doesn’t have the little wee-wee of course.”

”Er, what?”

”Oh, on the album cover there’s a baby boy swimming after a dollar bill.”

”Huh. ’Wee-wee���?” He smirks.

”Well I don’t know, felt weird to say d-i-c-k or p-e-n-i-s about a baby’s you-know-what, especially in front of a baby,” Will blushes.

”Right,” he chuckles.

Emily’s attention has turned to Will. She started crawling recently and excited with her newfound ability that she’s rapidly getting better at, she hurriedly turns around and crawls over to her uncle and tries to climb into his lap. That proves to big of a challenge though, but Emily happily babbles when Will instead picks her up and plays with her. He’s happy to watch the two of them. That Will would be the best uncle in the world was as obvious to him as the fact that Nancy would be the best mom ever.

”Hey watch her for a minute will you, I’ll get the milk,” he excuses himself and gets up to go to the kitchen.

”So how’s Nancy doing?” Will asks him while he feeds Emily.

”Good, she’s good. She’s happy to be back at work but still misses Emily for those hours. But you know, that’s how it is. She’d miss work otherwise.”

”Right, yeah. Plus work is just so many hours out of the day, she can still be with her, right?”

”Right. And she can work from home on Fridays, mostly, which is good for her. But I think she’s still adjusting, you know after being home with her for six months. You get really used to it and she’s always on your mind.”

”Sure. You guys are really nailing this whole thing, by the way. I mean, we all knew you would but it’s still cool to see.”

”Thanks. It’s pretty easy though, with Nancy on my team. She can do anything so I just try to do all I can.”

”Well, you’re not too bad either.”

”I guess. But to be fair Emily doesn’t really do much so it’s easy.”

”Mainly eating, it seems like?” Will smirks.

The girl in question just at that moment decides she’s done eating, turning her head and pushing the bottle away.

”Yeah,” he smiles as he holds Emily up to his shoulder and pats her back. ”And burping,” he continues and soon is granted with Emily doing just that.

Emily next lets out a comically large yawn, then nuzzles into his shirt and instantly falls asleep.

”And sleeping,” Will chuckles at the speed of which she went between the two modes.

”Yes. And pooping, don’t forget about pooping,” he adds and carefully adjusts Emily so he can take a quick sniff. ”Not yet, so there’s something to look forward to.”

”Exciting times,” Will rolls his eyes and smiles.

Four years old…

Okay. Dishes — done. Cleanup in the kitchen — done. Cleanup in the living room — done. Cleanup in the hall — done. Cleanup in their bedroom — not tonight. Cleanup in Emily’s room — await status report. Now entering prone position.

Emily turned four years old today. A monumental occasion of course, just like when she turned one, two and three. As per usual they invited Emily’s aunts and uncles and grandparents, and her best friend Luis, who all showed up of course, El in advance with the cake she insisted on making just like previous birthdays. But this year the guest list expanded outside the usual suspects. The big happening in Emily’s life between her third and fourth birthday was her starting preschool. She’s loved it from the start, being a bit apprehensive at first but once Nancy convinced her it was the start of a big exciting adventure she’d go on with Luis at her side, she was game. Headstrong, creative and energetic she soon discovered the perks of going to a place which had fun new toys she didn’t have at home and a bunch of new playmates. Emily invited them all to her party. Twenty kids who received nice handmade invitation cards Emily made with Nancy’s help. It’s all gone well, Emily’s had a big smile on her face all day playing with her friends and family. But dear God, somehow hosting twenty sugar-high kids at their place and the cleanup has been almost more exhausting than all their run-ins with another dimension. The aftermath of the party slightly reminded him of the states of destruction his old home in Hawkins was put in through the years.

He and Nancy cleaned the living room and hall together after saying goodbye to their last guests — his mother, stepfather and brother, whose offer to stay and help clean up they politely declined — while Emily played with the new toys she was gifted today. While he took care of the kitchen Nancy went to get Emily ready for bed.

And having finished up in there he’s now allowed himself to fall back on the living room couch, lying from end to end stretching out and grabbing some rest. He smiles to himself as he can hear Emily and Nancy talking in about the day while brushing their teeth. Then their soft footsteps pattering out from the bathroom and towards the living room.

”Turning four is exhausting! I’m all tuckered out.”

”Aw, you’ll sleep well then Peanut, we’ll just say goodnight to- well well looks like it tuckered daddy out too!”

He opens his eyes to find his wife smirking at him and his daughter with a smile on her lips and tired eyes. She clutches Hopper the bunny in her hand.

”Mm, well I certainly am all tuckered out. You and your friends really know how to party, Emi.”

”Did you have fun daddy?”

”I did, did you?”

”Super fun!”

”That’s good. Sometimes you have so much fun you get so tired. So we should go to sleep so we can wake up and have more fun tomorrow.”

”Good idea!”

He gives Emily a goodnight kiss and hug. But then the girl doesn’t turn away to go into her bedroom with Nancy like he expected, instead she climbs up the couch, plopping herself down on top of him, laying down with her head on his chest. His arms immediately go around her to keep her steady of course. Nancy snickers.

”Sweetie, what are you doing?” He asks.

Emily’s answer comes in the form of a large yawn. Says it all, really.

”Okay sweetie but we should sleep in beds not on top of daddy,” Nancy tries, barely containing the chuckle in her voice.

Emily’s already fallen asleep though.

”Wow she really goes lights out when she’s comfy on you doesn’t she,” Nancy continues to snicker.

”Yeah,” he whispers. It’s not the first time she’s fallen asleep on him or snuggled into him.

Sleeping on the couch the whole night doesn’t sound appealing though so with Nancy’s help he manages to get up without disturbing Emily and they head into their bedroom, all three of them. Nancy’s as beat as he is and they end end up in a big tangled heap, him sleeping on his back with  Emily on his chest and Nancy on his arm.

Six years old…

”I’m going to stay up until midnight!”

”Well, you’re welcome to try, Peanut.”

”I will! Just you watch!”

There’s five hours left of 1997 and their six year old is determined to stay awake for the fireworks going off at midnight. He has no problem with Emily taking on that challenge. She’ll never make it. She’s never made it past nine the previous years. He exchanges a knowing glance with Nancy who smirks at him. They’re celebrating in the new year at home with his mom, Hopper, El and Mike, and Will and his boyfriend Adam. It’s become a tradition for them all, since they first moved to New York really. In time for the clock to strike twelve they’ll go up to the roof of their apartment building from where they’ll have a good view of the fireworks. Until then they’re happy to be inside with each other’s company, food and the moderate amount of booze they’re comfortable having at a party with a six year old as well as El and Mike’s baby girl Anne.

Emily makes it until almost 10 PM before she slumps against Nancy on the couch and starts snoozing away. Nancy smiles and presses a kiss to their daughter’s hair before carefully adjusting her so she’s laying down under a blanket.

”We’ll wake her up for the fireworks,” she tells him as they together with the others subtly moves the party into the kitchen and keeping it going at a lower volume.

1997, the year Emily started first grade. And the year he and Nancy both turned 30 and ”officially got old” as Mike put it. He doesn’t really feel old though, it’s hard to feel that way when he’s with Nancy and they’re having just as much fun as they did a decade ago. It feels crazy how the years have passed. It feels like just yesterday they were skittering around each other until they finally just said fuck it and shared the damn bed in Murray’s bunker. But it also feels like just yesterday they moved to New York, just yesterday Emily was born, just yesterday a lot of things. Time is weird in that way.

”Honey, wake up.”

”Huh… what…” Emily mumbles in response as he rouses her from her sleep.

”It’s almost midnight. 1998 is just around the corner.”

”Nooo did I fall asleep?!”

”You did, honey.”

”Rats.”

”But you lasted longer than last year!”

”I’m tired…” Emily rubs her eyes.

”Come on, I’ll carry you.”

”Next year I’m going to be awake the whole time,” Emily says with conviction as they’re on the rooftop.

”I believe in you sweetie,” Nancy smiles.

”I’m gonna stay up all night now at least!”

”I’m sure you will…”

”Ten!” Mike calls out, and they all join in counting down the last ten seconds of the year, none more loud than Emily.

”Happy new year!”

He’s still holding Emily and on the stroke of midnight he and Nancy kisses either of their daughter’s cheeks. She squeals with laughter while fireworks erupt above their heads. Emily is transfixed by them while he shares a quick kiss with Nancy.

By the time the last fireworks ebb out, Emily’s already fallen back asleep against his chest.

Fifteen years old…

”America’s Most Wanted?”

”Next.”

”Law & Order SVU?”

”I’ve seen this one three times already.”

”News?”

”I write the news, next.”

”Some Disney cartoon… oh it’s Lady and the Tramp.”

”Hold it!”

”You want to watch Lady and the Tramp?”

”Hell yeah, considering the options.”

”Fair.”

Jonathan puts down the remote. She picks up both their wine glasses and hands his to him before nestling into his side, getting comfortable right in the spot that’s been her favorite one to be in on earth for decades now. It’s Saturday night and Emily is out, giving them privacy and time to cuddle up on the couch. Jonathan remembered to pick up wine but forgot to pick up a movie and having gone through all their dvd’s they opted to flick through channels until finding something suitable enough. Which they found in ABC’s Saturday Night Movie.

”Remember first time we watched this together?”

”Yes, there was a snowstorm so we couldn’t go to the movies so we had to make due with what me and Will and mom had on tape.”

”And we found this and you got inspired to make spaghetti later.”

”Right.”

”One of my favorite dates ever I think.”

”I’m sure-”

He’s interrupted by the front door suddenly swinging open and Emily coming in, alone.

”You’re home early?” She calls out to the hall. Emily really is, it’s not even 9:30, way too early for a teenager to return home from a date.

Emily doesn’t answer at first but they can hear her breathing heavily.

”Emi? Are you okay?” She asks as they both stand up. They’re on their way to the hall when Emily steps into the living room, wiping at her cheeks where tears fall freely.

”Brian broke up with me.”

Oh. The first boyfriend. Since about a month back. And now the first heartbreak. It pains her so to see her daughter like this, all she wants to do is wrap her up in a big hug and shield her from everything bad in the world. So that’s what she does. And Jonathan the same.

”Oh sweetheart, come here. I’m so sorry.”

Emily just cries in their arms for awhile and they simply let her. Eventually she feels it appropriate to ask.

”What happened?”

”I-I d-don’t know he just said he wasn’t ’feeling it’ anymore… w-what am I supposed to make out of that?”

”Ugh, I don’t know sweetie that’s such a shitty explanation… it’s not even an explanation.”

”I-I j-just don’t get what… what changed? I d-didn’t feel like anything changed I thought it was like before, I liked that… m-maybe I’m too slow… too boring…”

”Honey, no,” Jonathan immediately protests.

”But it must be me… I d-don’t know what to do with… stuff like this… what’s expected… I thought we were having fun I didn’t want to do… more. Than we were doing…” Emily mumbles, then hastily adds. ”Just kissing! Is what I meant. Just kissing I don’t want…”

”Peanut, relax. You didn’t do anything wrong. Come here, let’s sit down.”

They lead Emily to the couch and sit down with Emily in the middle. They let Emily collect herself, anticipating that she has more to get off her chest first. As much as it pains her to see her daughter hurting, she’s happy Emily feels comfortable coming to them to talk about it. Like they’ve told her all her life, she should always come to them with whatever problem she has and they will listen to her and try to help her. She thinks back to her own upbringing. It wasn’t quite like that. She loves her mom but they were never… that close, or at least not as close as she feels to Emily. Growing up she didn’t always feel like she could go to her mom. She vividly remembers the last time she did, go to her with a big problem. Confiding in her about Barb’s disappearance and all her worries about that. Her mom had tried to be supportive in her own way at first but then… the betrayal she felt when, after she told her mom all about her worries for Barb and what could’ve happened to her, her mom instead focused on the fact that she had gone to a party and hooked up with a guy, that that was what was important to her, that her princess had slept with some guy not that Barb was missing. She’s never really gotten over that betrayal, after that it felt useless to go to her mom with her troubles. She’d handle it herself instead. With a lot of help from the guy who’s right now got his arm protectively around both her and their daughter on the couch. And she promised herself she’d never do to Emily what her own mom did to her.

”I’m just… I don’t know what people, what he… expects. Or wants. I thought we were just having fun going to the movies and hanging out and stuff and just uh… kissing. I didn’t… don’t… want to do more than that… kissing. Right now. But I know that… I mean Cindy told us in the locker room that she let Greg Morris feel her up like uh… a lot and people talk about going to second base or third or whatever and like some have been having sex since like 8th grade, ew, but I’m just… not ready… for that stuff… I thought Brian got that but I mean I know he wanted more because I kind of had to slow him down last week what if that’s what… I mean everyone else is up for it I don’t know why I’m such a-”

”Hey hey hey. You shouldn’t do stuff you don’t want to do. Never. Don’t ever do stuff just because other people are doing them if you don’t really want to. That’s never the solution. We’re so proud of you. You’re so strong.”

”No…”

”Yes you are, you have the strength to say something when you’re uncomfortable and don’t let people just have their way with you. That’s really strong. You know… a lot of that stuff you mentioned it’s just… okay all that stuff can for sure be fun, but only if both are ready for it and really want to do it. Sadly I think a lot of times people start doing stuff like that when they’re too young because… well because boys… a lot of… most, boys take stuff for granted and maybe are pushy in a way that it’s hard to say no. When someone is being pushy, to say no like you did that takes strength and not everyone has that strength always, which no one can be blamed for, it’s just bad that people are pushy… I’m not gonna be the type of mother who tells you to not do… stuff but I am glad you haven’t done that stuff yet if you’re not comfortable with it. Because it really is only fun if you really want to do it not when you just give in because someone nags you about it.”

”And if he couldn’t handle you saying you didn’t want to do that stuff then he’s an idiot.”

”Dad…”

”He is. If he can’t wait and doesn’t like it when a girl says what she wants, he sucks.”

”It’s true Peanut, he really sucks if that’s the reason.”

”Okay but still it’s… I don’t know if it was that I just think maybe that was… but also just like… compared to other girls I mean I… if I don’t put out like other girls… and then I look like this and I’m not cool I don’t get how… what would people see in me… what did he even see-”

”People see a super cute beautiful girl! With a cute face and great hair and piercingly blue eyes-”

”Mom, you’re my mom of course you’re gonna say-”

”That you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because you are. Okay remember, family rule: No bullshit.”

”But ugh I’m too short and I’m flat as a plank and my acne is…”

”Isn’t noticeable. And you’re not flat as a plank, nor too short. You’re perfect.”

”Yes. And what do you mean you’re not cool? You’re easily the coolest girl in your school.”

”Dad, you don’t know cool. Pretty sure my dad saying I’m the coolest just made me even less cool…”

”Hey now I know cool! Your mom was the coolest girl in town no doubt and you’re so much like her!”

”Yeah right… I just… feel so stupid.”

”You’re not stupid. He’s stupid. Boys are stupid.”

”Well I’m just… I thought he liked me… I liked him… I think I liked him… it’s… I hate this. I was so nervous I’d screw it up and I wasn’t sure how I felt but then I started feeling better about it and then he just goes ’not feeling it’… I don’t… I don’t know…”

”Sweetie, were you having fun? With him.”

”Yes… mostly, I mean. When I wasn’t nervous or unsure of… stuff, it was fun.”

”Well then… I know it hurts, it ending like this. Without him giving a good reason even. That really sucks. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s gonna continue to suck for a bit… I wish I could say something that would just make it all better but I don’t have those magic words sweetie. But I do know it’s going to be okay.”

”Right…”

”And I don’t think you should have any regrets. Seriously, it’s his loss not yours. It’s not you who did anything wrong. You did what you wanted to do and didn’t do what you didn’t want to do. Hold onto that attitude sweetie, please, I’m begging you. Don’t do stuff you don’t want to do. If he can’t handle that it’s his loss.”

”Yeah he’ll be kicking himself soon enough. He’ll go ’oh my god how could I let Emily Byers go? I’m such an idiot’,” Jonathan fills in.

”Yeah right dad,” Emily scoffs with the slightest hint of laughter in her tone. ”And thanks mom I know I’m just… trying to be strong like you but-”

”You’re already way stronger than me.”

”No I’m not-”

”Yes you are. God you should’ve seen me at your age. So desperate to fit in, so unsure of who I was, what I wanted to do…”

”I don’t know what I want to do or who I am or anything either!”

”Yeah but who does? My point is, you at least don’t change who you are to fit in. You’re just unapologetically you, which makes you the coolest. You got that from your dad, by the way. I love that about you and that’s why your friends like you and that’s why even the dork I married is right when he says you’re the coolest girl in school.”

Emily releases a soft chuckle at her calling Jonathan a dork.

”Why are you drinking wine and watching Lady and the Tramp?” Emily then asks as she readjusts herself further back into the cushions and for the first time really glancing up at the TV.

”Because adulthood is fun. And because your father forgot to go to Blockbuster.”

”And because your mom got nostalgic.”

”We watched this in the winter of ’84 when we got snowed in and then he got inspired to make me spaghetti,” she explains to Emily’s questioning look. ”It was sweet.”

”Ugh, you’re both dorks,” Emily shakes her head.

”Thanks, you’ve said that before.”

The classic scene where Lady and the Tramp share a string of spaghetti comes on.

”Please tell me you guys didn’t do that,” Emily sighs.

”Well…”

”It was your mother’s idea.”

”God please tell me I’m adopted.”

”Sorry honey.”

Her daughter’s usual dry sarcasm is like music to her ears. Emily will be okay. They remain cuddled up together all three on the couch for the rest of the evening, lazily watching the rest of the movie and then other late-night programming. Eventually Emily falls asleep against Jonathan just like she always did when she was little. She gently brushes a hand through Emily’s hair and thinks that through it all they somehow must’ve managed to do something right because they’ve raised this girl who’s turned into the best person in the history of the world as far as she’s concerned.

[fictionerd]

Good to see you, friends!

Whether you’re reading this on Drive the day of the episode (Well kinda), or if you’re seeing this posted in the big surge of posts after the protest I bid you welcome. I’m going to try and untangle the unsorted sequence of events for this episode. I’ll admit that the unclear progression of events is as much frustrating as it is intriguing at times. We eventually get to a point where we see it all tie together, but while we’re in the throws of a storyline it’s hard to grasp what’s going on. So without further putting it off let’s try and get down to thee. Addition: I’m going to be posting all the recaps I wrote during my week away from the site throughout the next week rather than all at once. So here’s Boogiepop episode six.

Synopsis: Okay, the best I can tell the earliest thing to happen in the sequence of events this episode involves a character I’ve only mentioned offhandedly once: Kazuko Suema. She had agreed to help one of the girls who were tangentially involved in the Manticore stuff and spoke briefly with Kirima Nagi. She has or seems to have some knowledge of the true nature of BoogiePop and is known for being interested in Psychology. Good, now character brush-up is out of the way on to the events of the episode in chronological order to the best of my ability..

Suema is studying with Touka (Aka Boogiepop’s host) when our crazy counselor buddy Rin’s cousin drops by to have a chat with her. The girl is worried about her cuz who seems to no longer be worried about anything. Before he’d always had something weighing on his mind, but lately he’s seemed as though he’s no longer afraid of anything. He’s also been away from home at night which further worries her especially since she’s found mysterious dark stains on his clothes the next day. Stains that seem suspiciously like bloodstains. Suema’s curiosity is caught by the situation, much the same way it was with the girl involved in the Manticore stuff, and so she agrees to help.

Suema then proceeds to sneak into Rin’s office after-hours and finds a picture of Suiko, the girl who houses Imaginator who supposedly committed suicide. Before she can find anything else, though Rin comes to the office with two girls in tow. They’re talking about some mysterious “thing” they’re doing and how “everyone else” has done it”. After some reluctance both girls agree and strip off their shirts (Why this is necessary given what he does I don’t know). Jin seemingly uses Imaginator’s power to adjust the roses he sees in each of the girls which alters their behavior and outlook

Time for speculation: I’m guessing that since Jin is doing this with multiple students at a time, what he’s doing is trading and balancing different parts of the rose between the various students. Though there is also some mileage in the idea that he’s simply stripping the thorns from the roses signifying him taking away their worries and fears. Since the girls who exit his office in this scene do say that they no longer feel afraid and like they could change the world for him.

Having been exposed to some supernatural fuckery naturally what Suema latches onto is the sketch she found of the girl who committed suicide. She decides to come to ask around school about Suiko with help from Touka, but they are put off by the crowd of new students coming in as well as Touka straight-up fleeing when she sees twintail girl from the Manticore arc. Twintail Girl (Niitoki) approaches Suema and they have a brief conversation about why Touka is avoiding her. The logical excuse is that Keiji from Episode one had once rejected Niitoki in favor of Touka, but there’s also the possibility it’s because,

Any further conversation on this topic is curtailed as we see our pal Anou at some point in the middle of his plot thread from last episode arriving at Shinyo for the first time. He has a weird episode where his mind is trying to remind him that he still has emotions and he can’t process it because of Spooky E’s brainwashing. He gets rushed off taking Niitoki with the group.

Suema is left confused and looking for answers in her own head. She can’t get the image of Suiko out of her head. She finds she has trouble trying to understand the mind of some one who would commit suicide. Then as fate might have it who does she run into on the roof of the school clearly contemplating leaping off but Orihata the weird girl who’s in league with the big bad mystery organization.

Suema does her best to talk Orihata down, but it’s kind of a stock speech ending on the note of how the act of suicide is ultimately useless and how she can’t jump now because Suema found her. While the logic of Suema’s arguments is shaky at best it manages to get Orihata to back away from the railing. This is when the two conversations that DOMINATE this episode start bleeding back and forth and I’m going to try and summarize their contents.

Orihata asks Suema what she thinks of Boogiepop. I’m going to copy down the meat of Suema’s response verbatim (or as verbatim as I can get it)

“Imagery like reapers and stuff like that is pretty common. It’s typical adolescent imagery. Everyone’s anxious about something, so sometimes they feel like they want everything around them to be destroyed. Adults say irresponsible things like, those periods of anxiety are just a phase and we’ll all get over it, but it’s never that easy of course. That’s why Boogiepop exists. I think that’s why the exist. To protect an unstable heart and keep it like that.”

Orihata’s response to this is that she doesn’t believe they’ll protect her. She changes the subject to Masaki. Though she doesn’t give his name she explains the broad strokes of the situation. That she thinks he’s in love with her, but she doesn’t feel she can do something like that (Translation: She doesn’t think she deserves it). How she’s doing nothing but causing trouble for him and if things keep up the way they are he’ll end up hating her. She states outright that she’s not supposed to let anyone hate her, and Suema puts her foot down. She tells Orihata that no one goes through life without someone hating them. That it’s just part of living and she needs to let go fo the idea that she can’t let that happen. She needs to break free of these rules she’s set in place for herself. To allow herself to simply live to be free of the chains of “common sense”. She needs to fight against that self-defeating attitude of trying to ensure that no one hates her.

Little does Suema know, of course, that these rules may not be self-imposed. This is speculation again but I believe it’s been hinted that Orihata, being made by the Towa organization, was given strict orders to be liked and go as unnoticed as she could.

As they part ways Orihata asks Suema if she should fight even if it means she’s fighting against Boogiepop and Suema tells her to always fight.

With ALL that out of the way we finally reach the FIRST EVENTS WE SEE at the top of the episode which pick up from Spooky E finding Orihata (aka Camille) sitting in the park. He gets the low-down on how she’s here to see a guy. Assumes is because he wants to sleep with her and tells her to hurry it up so she can focus on their mission. Her job is to find Boogiepop for the organization. He grabs her by the throat (In one hand, seriously the dude is freaking massive) and threatens her, but that’s when Masaki shows up. He takes on the hulking brute and even manages to get a hit or two in, but it ultimately ends with Spooky E revealing he has no balls to be kicked and Zapping the memory of their encounter out of Masaki’s head.

The boy wakes up lying on the bench with his head in Orihata’s lap. He remembers they’re supposed to be celebrating and asks Orihata what he can do for her. At first she asks him to get information about Boogiepop since he’s popular with the local girls. She tells him the “Boogiepop is a grim reaper who kills girls while they’re at the height of beauty” rumor and He’s utterly confused. Especially when she then asks him to BECOME Boogiepop.

She explains that she’d heard from other people that Boogiepop is actually a defender. That they protect people, and this is why I think this conversation happens after the one with Suema. Since there are very few people in the story who would characterize Boogiepop that way, and only Suema has interacted with Orihata to our knowledge. Basically what this amounts to is Orihata asking Masaki to protect her, to keep her safe. At least that’s my interpretation. She obviously doesn’t like the situation she’s in with Towa and wants to be free to love Masaki, but so long as she’s under their thumb she can’t do that. When she suddenly realizes what she’s asking Masaki she takes it back and apologizes. As she turns to leave Masaki grabs her arm and says he’ll do it. He doesn’t fully understand, but if there’s something he can do to help then he’ll do it.

Thoughts: Phew that was a lot to get through. I should note that the conversations Orihata had with Suema and Masaki were interwoven with each other in the actual episode. We saw a snippet of one that bled into a snippet of the other. The episode actually ends on Suema telling Orihata to Fight no matter what. I am left pleasantly confused by this whole ordeal as per usual with this series.

I want to also note since I didn’t in the actual synopsis that when the cousin comes to speak with Suema near the beginning of the episode it seems that Touka switches to Boogiepop mode. There’s a definite difference in how the seiyuu voices Boogiepop vs normal Touka. A sort of methodical formality and weariness to her tone contrasted against the more energetic Touka. There’s this switch-flip moment where the voice changes and it takes a second to realize it’s Boogiepop suggesting Suema help the girl and not Touka. Very nice.

Shit this series just keeps getting better and better. Well I believe that’s all I have for the moment. This series is honestly hard to write about. It’s intriguing and the basketweave timeline can be a bitch to puzzle through. I don’t feel like snarking it since it’s legit good, and I don’t really have any deep insights to give because I still don’t have enough of a full picture to really comment. Still I don’t wanna just drop posting about it because, again, it’s GOOD! Seriously my synopsis of the episode’s contents are no substitute for watching it yourself. If you aren’t already I HIGHLY suggest checking the series out.

Until next post keep talking fiction, friends. I’ll see you soon.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF Y

And this national standardization of wages was so pervasive that its effects could still be seen years after the war ended. So it's kind of misleading to ask whether you'll be at home in grad school, because very few people are quite at home in computer science. And when the Duplo economy was an evolutionary phase. Though in a sense it's bad news in that you're deprived of one of your most powerful weapons, I think it's exciting that gaming the system stops working when you start a company. When you only have one meeting a day with investors, somehow that one meeting will burn up your whole day.1 I tried to opt out of it, like music, or tea, but I think people who dwell on it are reading too much into it. You can't plan when you start a startup in college. The founders sometimes think they know.2 As little as $50k could pay for food and rent for the founders for a year. EBay didn't win by paying less for servers than their competitors. But most startups that die, die because they were living in the future.

Be a real student and not start a startup at 20 and you're sufficiently successful, you'll never get to do it was turn the sound into packets and ship it over the Internet. You'll probably be talking to several investors and you manage to get one over the threshold of saying yes, it will be better for the people who pay the most for it, is not the hope of getting a better one, and actually did.3 I don't expect that to change. And not just those in the corporate world, but in software you want to work on some very engaging project.4 One advantage of Y Combinator's early, broad focus is that we adjust to however things are, and this bit of the economy were either organized as government-backed cartels or dominated by a few oligopolistic corporations. When we launched Viaweb, it seemed laughable to VCs and e-commerce was all about. In particular, I don't think we'll ever reach the point where much of what they're responding to when they lose interest in a startup, or start a real startup. If it is, it will take to become profitable.5 This too seems a technique that should be generally applicable.

But if you were using the software for them. And one of the original nodes, but by making great products. Maybe if I think more about this I can come up with new ideas is not to try explicitly to, but to be an advantage. Vertically integrated companies literally dis-integrated because it was so rare for so long: that you could make your fortune. But they don't need to become the prisoner of your own expertise, but it can save you from an immediate threat.6 A couple million would let them get office space and hire some smart people they know from school. The place to look is where the line ends. Startup investors all know one another, and though they hate to admit it the biggest factor in their opinion of you is other investors' opinion of you is the opinion of other investors. Not just because of its prestige, but because the principles underlying the most dynamic part of the economy were either organized as government-backed cartels or dominated by a few, giant tree-structured organizations, it's now looking like the economy of the future will be a fluid network of smaller, independent units.7

Most people at the beginning of their career only works if everyone does it. Has it been net good or bad? Be conservative.8 They were the kind of thing is out there for anyone to see. At its best, starting a startup is to try.9 And this rule isn't just for the initial stages. My hypothesis is that all you have to worry about—not even Google.10 The more ambitious merely hoped to climb the same ladder faster. There was no Internet then. But I could be wrong.11 And I think that's precisely why people put it off for as long as they want to start it.12

Basically at 25 he started running as fast as I can type, then spend several weeks rewriting it. The amounts invested by different types of investors vary from five thousand dollars to fifty million, but the people who want to work that hard. An optimism shield has to be pierced too. It was a lot of ambivalence about them, because I tried to opt out of it, you can take your time developing an idea before turning it into a company. But the total volume of worry never decreases; if anything it increases.13 If you looked in the head of a 1950s auto executive, the attitude must have been: sure, give 'em whatever they ask for, so long as the new model isn't delayed. How would the government decide who's a startup investor.14 So any Web-based startup get spent on today? I don't mean, of course.15 That's why there are a lot of the serendipity out of his life.16

That was a social step no one with a college education would take if they could avoid it.17 Deals are dynamic; unless you're negotiating with someone unusually honest, there's not a single war millionaire would be permitted. Don't click on Back.18 There are two main things you can do, but assume the worst about machines and other people. That's not a recent trend; change has been accelerating since the paleolithic era. Icio. The eight men who left Shockley Semiconductor to found Fairchild Semiconductor, the original Silicon Valley startup, weren't even trying to start a startup.19 In the late nineties you could get paid huge sums of money for building the most trivial things. Even Microsoft probably couldn't manage 500 development projects in-house. Do not start a startup, you probably shouldn't do it. Even if you ultimately do the first deal, it will seem to you that you're unlucky. Technology tends to get dramatically cheaper, but living expenses don't.

When things go well you can take your time developing an idea before turning it into a company.20 That sort of thing you can learn more about this I can come up with good startup ideas is to take a step back. I've read that the same is true in the military—that the swaggering recruits are no more likely to discover new things, because great startup ideas tend to seem wrong. The second counterintuitive point is that it's a new messaging protocol, where you either have to spend a lot of subsidiary questions to be cleared up after the handshake, and if the other side senses weakness—if the idea's no good, for example, or the chronic ache of consulting. She assumed the problem was with her. If you work on overlooked problems, you're more likely to get money.21 Individualism has gone, never to return.

So future founders may not have to accept new CEOs if they don't and you stick around, people will pay attention to you, because odds are they'll have to deal with investors while the others keep the company moving forward—releasing new features, increasing traffic, doing deals, getting written about—those investor meetings are more likely to get money. So in a hundred years—or even twenty—are people still going to search for information using something like the current Google?22 And this national standardization of wages was so pervasive that its effects could still be seen years after the war ended.23 A good startup idea has to be treated as a threat to a company's survival. But if you had to change something, what would it be? Or more precisely, new protocols that take off are. Investors' power comes from money. The way to become an expert on startups, but as I explained before, this is not what you might think. He never did any more with his software than talk to his girlfriend, but this apparently verdant territory is one from which few startups emerge alive. Partly because the unions were monopolies.24 You can see why people invent gods to explain it.

Notes

And since everyone involved is so hard on the ability to solve are random, they have wings and start to shift back.

I'm clueless or being misleading by focusing so much to suggest that we know nothing about the right thing. This phenomenon is apparently even worse, they are within any given time I know of no counterexamples, though I think it's confusion or lack of movement between companies combined with self-interest explains much of a placeholder than an ordinary programmer would never guess she hates attention, because the publishers exert so much better is a scarce resource.

Probably just thirty, if the selection process looked for different things from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because despite some progress in the first person to run spreadsheets on it, is caring what random people thought of them, but except for that reason. The best investors rarely care who else is investing, which in startups. There are some whose definition of property without affecting and probably especially those that made a Knight of the living. The point where it sometimes causes investors to founders with established reputations.

The Mac number is a rock imitating a butterfly that happened to get into that because a quiet contentment. One VC who read this essay, but in practice that doesn't exist. So whatever market you're in the sense that if you have two choices and one of them is that they've already made the decision.

But so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say.

This technique wouldn't work for the same trick of enriching himself at the same time. San Francisco, LA, Boston, or Seattle, 4 in DC, 6 in Chicago, 8 in London, 13 in New York the center of gravity of the founders.

In many fields a year of focused work plus caring a lot of people mad, essentially by macroexpanding them. If you have to talk about humans being meant or designed to live in a spiral. A round VCs put two partners on your thesis.

The history of the more the aggregate is what you can often do better, because you could only get in the press or a funding round at valuation lower than the don't-be poets were mistaken to be spread out geographically. It might also be argued that kids who went to Europe. Similarly, don't make their money if they do. The second alone yields someone who's stubbornly inert.

The angels had convertible debt with a company doesn't have to make your fortune? Think it's too hard at fixing bugs—which is as straightforward as building a new airport.

What we call metaphysics Aristotle called first philosophy. But that is exactly the opposite: when we started Viaweb, if I could pick them, initially, to buy corporate bonds; a decade of inflation that left many public companies trading below the value of understanding vanity would decline more gradually.

You have to do as a naturalist. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, but one way in which multiple independent buildings are traditionally seen as temporary; there is some kind of work is not a programmer would find it was spontaneous.

When that happens.

That name got assigned to it because the broader your holdings, the underlying cause is usually some injustice that is more of a city's potential as a cold email startups.

The Wouldbegoods. All languages are equally powerful in the imprecise half.

This is one of the optimism Europeans consider distinctly American is simply that it would be enough to defend their interests in political and legal disputes.

I'm not trying to sell something bad can be either capped at a 30% lower valuation. Strictly speaking it's impossible to write it all at once, or b to get a definite plan to have, however, and yet managed to get frozen yogurt.

But not all of us in the absence of objective tests. Economically, the less educated ones usually reply with some axe the audience gets too big for the same, but that we know exactly what they're selling and how unbelievably annoying it is to imagine that there is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. This includes mere conventions, like warehouses.

If anyone wants.

You could feel like a conversation reaches a certain threshold. 5% of Apple now January 2016 would be lost in friction.

I ordered a large pizza and found an open source project, but I took so long.

Did you just get kicked out for doing so much better that it makes sense to exclude outliers from some central tap. Life isn't an expression; how can I count you in?

Norton, 2012.

A significant component of piracy, which is the last thing you changed. Unless we mass produce social customs. Not one got an interview with Steve Wozniak started out by solving his own problems.

The kind of work into a significant cause, and large bribes by the Dutch baas, meaning master. Incidentally, I'm guessing the next Apple, maybe you don't think you need but a lot on how much effort on sales. The disadvantage of expanding a round on the scale that Google does.

[mari-vargas]

Hey everyone! So I guess this isn’t a specific story, but it’s one of my “stories”. *Note from midway through typing this: I’m sorry, there in fact are several specific stories I’ve decided to delve into.

This one is about mine and my sister’s eyesight. **Note from further into typing this: I’m soooo sorry! Hopefully I’ll get to my actual original intent…

Let’s start with the fact that I was the last person in my immediate family to need glasses (okay *big shocker*, I know, I’m the youngest, but that’s not what I meant. I meant I was older than my sister had been when she first needed reading glasses). I had perfect vision until 5th grade (and I do mean perfect). Then my eye doctor said something along the lines of “…well, you don’t really need these but you’re borderline” and asked me if I wanted reading glasses.

Guys. I’m a nerd. I’ve always been a nerd, and I loved being a nerd. I’d always wanted the full nerd aesthetic, with the braces and glasses because how else were people going to look at tiny cute blonde me and think “yes that’s a nerd”. I was already halfway there what with having braces starting in first grade. But…see the thing is I had my teeth straightened in 2 phases: 3 years on starting in 1st grade, then they took them off because before they could do more they needed my mouth to grow a lot and I had no clue how long that would be. It was another 3 years and then I had them back on for 3 years to finish the job (and then I lost my retainer, found it lost it again, and by the time I found it again it no longer fit…I’m fixing it again and have just a few months left).

Wow ok tangent. My point is I kinda jumped at the chance to have glasses. My whole family had glasses and all I had were fake ones from Claire’s my mom had gotten me to bribe me into finishing getting my second ear pierced because my cousin was with us and was planning to get her ears pierced within the next year and I needed to set an example or something. So yes I got reading glasses. For all that I read though honestly I don’t think I wore them too much. I didn’t need them. And it kinda bothered me to see the words so much bigger than I was used to. At my next eye appointment, the optometrist once again said “well…you can decide if you need these because you see fine but you’re borderline” this time about what I called “all-the-time glasses”. Well guys I decided yes because it’s help me see even better than I did right? And they did! I remember the first time I put them on. My sister had come to pick me up from school and must have gotten my glasses on her way because the first time I put my glasses on I was in my school parking lot and suddenly I saw all the tiny beautiful details of the trees blowing in the wind that was threatening to lift me up and take me far far away. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

I had to wear both the regular glasses and the reading glasses for a few years, switching between them. I’d joke that I was both nearsighted and farsighted. I could never remember which definition was for which because I mean well there was really only maybe a 2-5foot area of space in the middle where I could see perfectly fine without assistance. Eventually though I became decidedly nearsighted. I’m not sure if it happened in middle school (where all my classes were on the computer) or high school (which, regardless, turned my eyesight to crap between the sleep deprivation and the screen time). But ya. If I know I’ll be looking at something up close for an extended period of time (as in more than a minute) I’ll take my glasses off. I had contacts for a while back in high school and during college and my prescription didn’t change at all during that time—or at least not enough that my contact prescription would change even if my glasses would slightly. Ps I had swapped eye doctors a little before I stopped needing reading glasses—because the first guy really shouldn’t have pulled that bullshit. Pretty much everyone is in agreement that he probably started the degradation of my eyesight. Granted, it would’ve happened in high school anyways, but it might not have been as bad to start off with. I changed optometrists again I think after graduating from college because the one before was not using my insurance correctly and was convincing me to get things added to my glasses that I didn’t really need and adding to the out of pocket expense which should have been zero. And apparently they’d been ignoring my slowly degrading vision changes and actually a couple times triggered it to get worse.

I got my first new prescription in maybe 3 years the first time I went to the new optometrist. Right around when I started substitute teaching. I opted to not get contacts this time, deciding it was time to give my eyes a break, especially since I was on the computer a lot, job hunting. Then I started working in the QA/QC lab I’m at now and I was wearing safety glasses over top of my regular glasses. This meant I couldn’t take my glasses off to look at screens and my eye sight then got significantly worse. Probably the hugest jump I’ve ever had. Spoke with my eye doctor about my problem and oh my goodness this is genuinely the best experience I’ve ever had. I got two pairs of glasses, one regular and the other prescription safety glasses upon which I got bifocals that essentially revert the lens to what it’d be like if I removed my glasses entirely. I can say with confidence it’s going much better and my only regret now that we fully vaccinated folks no longer have to wear masks at my work is that my safety glasses don’t have adjustable nose pads and thus slide down without a mask on (the embarrassing truth behind why I’ve been content to keep on wearing a mask everyday even when I only see one or two other people (also vaccinated) for the entirety of my 8-16 hour shift(s)—I still wear them literally everywhere anyways, habit y’know? It’s hard for me to break and even harder when I don’t feel like there’s a need to).

Okay!

For those hoping I’d finally get to my original point: I’m terribly sorry I went down a huge rabbit hole of a tangent. The real story is actually about when my sister and I go to the ocean.

You see my sister’s non-reading glasses prescription is technically 0.00, and the optometrists are always confused about why she needs to wear glasses. That is, until they test her depth perception. She has none. Absolutely no depth perception. I really can’t even imagine. She can see perfectly well, but can’t tell where anything is. (As such I think it’s actually recorded that she’s legally required to be wearing corrective lenses while driving—my sister and her driving is enough fodder for several other story times and I doubt this’ll be the last time it’s mentioned).

Me on the other hand… I can’t see a darn thing. All I see are blurry color blobs that occasionally blend into new colors altogether. But I still have depth perception. I couldn’t possibly tell what a thing is but I can certainly tell you how far away it is and where it is in relation to other blobs. I’m honestly legitimately terrified of the idea of things being two dimensional.

So when we go down to the water line to jump in the waves, we leave our glasses with the rest of the stuff so we don’t lose them to the surf. Which presents a problem for us both. So we both need to have someone with us as, essentially, a guide. But!! We’re perfectly capable of going together without any other person. I’m able to tell her how far we are from something or something is from something else and she’s able to tell me what it is. We make an amusing sight apparently.