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leafinthebreeze · 4 years ago

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“The road that is recovery from a childhood without a mother’s love, support, and attunement is long and complicated. One aspect of healing that is rarely touched upon is mourning the mother you needed, sought, and — yes — deserved. The word deserved is key to understanding why this remains elusive for many women (and men): They simply don’t see themselves as deserving, because they’ve internalized what their mothers said and did as self-criticism and have wrongly concluded that they’re lacking, worthless, or simply unlovable.

When I learned that my mother was failing 16 years ago, I did not go to see her, even though everyone in my life — including my therapist — thought I should go for “closure.” But I was wise enough to realize that they hadn’t walked my path, and their vision of closure was based on novels and Hollywood movies in which a-ha! moments flourish and mothers always love. In real life, I would ask the question I always wanted to be answered — “Why didn’t you love me?" — and she would refuse to answer, as always, but this time her silence would stretch out into eternity. I didn’t attend her funeral, either. But I did grieve — not for her, but for me and my unmet needs. And the mother I deserved.

"As I started finally to see her for what she was and how she will never be the mother I need and want, I started standing up for myself and setting boundaries, and her anger and insults got worse. Finally, I put my foot down and told her I would no longer tolerate her behavior and stopped all contact. And, NOW, I am really in mourning. I finally acknowledged the truth, and it hurts like hell. And I’m at the age where some of my friends are starting to lose their moms to old age and their stories, of times with their moms, are heartbreaking to me… I guess I just started this mourning process, and I’m still in it." —Annie

Grieving the mother you needed is impeded by both feeling unworthy of love and, more important, what I call the core conflict. This conflict is between the daughter’s growing awareness of how her mother wounded her in childhood and still does, and her continuing need for maternal love and support, even in adulthood. This pits the need to save and protect herself against the continuing hope that, somehow, she can figure out what she can do to get her mother to love her.

This tug-of-war can go on for literally decades, with the daughter retreating and perhaps going no-contact for a period of time and then being pulled back into the maelstrom by the combination of her neediness, hopefulness, and denial. She may paper over her pain and make excuses for her mother’s behavior because her eyes are on the prize: Her mother’s love. She puts herself on an ever-turning Ferris wheel, unable to dismount.

Those who concede the battle — going no contact, or limiting communication with their mothers and usually other family members — experience great loss along with relief. For the daughter to heal, this loss — the death of the hope that this essential relationship can be salvaged — needs to be mourned along with the mother she deserved.

The depth of the core conflict can be glimpsed in the anguish of those daughters who stay in the relationship precisely because they fear they will feel worse when their mothers die.

The stages of grief echo a daughter’s recovery from childhood.

In their book On Grief and Grieving, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler point out that the five stages of loss for which Kübler-Ross is famous — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance — aren’t meant “to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages.” They instead emphasize that everyone experiences grief in a unique and individual way. Not everyone will go through each stage, for example, and the stages may not necessarily follow in the expected sequence. That said, the stages are still illuminating, especially when seen in the context of an unloved daughter’s journey out of childhood, and they make it clear why mourning is an essential part of healing.

Denial: As the authors write, “It is nature’s way of letting in as much as we can handle.” With the experience of great loss, denial helps cushion the immediate blow, allowing the person to pace the absorption of the reality. That’s true for death, but it also applies to the daughter’s recognition of her woundedness. That’s why it can take years or decades for the daughter to actually see her mother’s behavior with clarity. Counterintuitively, some women actually only see it in hindsight, after their mothers’ deaths.

Anger: In the wake of death, anger is the most accessible of emotions, directed at targets as various as the deceased for abandoning the loved one, God or the forces of the universe, the unfairness of life, doctors and the healthcare system, and more. Kübler-Ross and Kessler stress that beneath the anger lie other, more complex emotions, especially the raw pain of loss, and that the power of the grieving person’s anger may actually feel overwhelming at times.

Unloved daughters, too, go through a stage or even stages of anger as they work through their emotions toward recovery. Their anger may be directed squarely at their mothers for their treatment, at other family members who stood by and failed to protect them, and also at themselves for not recognizing the toxic treatment sooner.

Anger at the self, alas, can get in the way of the daughter’s ability to feel self-compassion; once again, it is the act of mourning the mother you deserved that permits self-compassion to take root and flower.

Bargaining: This stage has to do with impending death most usually — bargaining with God or making promises to change, thinking that “if only” we’d done x or y, we’d be spared the pain of loss. With death, this is a stage to be passed through toward acceptance of the reality. The unloved daughter’s journey is marked by years of bargaining, spoken or unspoken entreaties in the belief that if some condition is met, her mother will love and support her. She may embark on a course of pleasing and appeasing her mother or make changes to her behavior, looking in vain for the solution that will bring the desired end: Her mother’s love. Just as in the process of grief, it’s only when the daughter ceases to bargain that she can begin to accept the reality that she’s powerless to wrest what she needs from her mother.

Depression: In the context of a major loss, Kübler-Ross and Kessler are quick to point out that we are often impatient with the deep sadness or depression that accompanies it. As a society, we want people to snap out of it, or are quick to insist that if sadness persists, it deserves treatment. They write instead that in grief, “Depression is a way for nature to keep us protected by shutting down the nervous system so that we can adapt to something we feel we cannot handle. They see it as a necessary step in the process of healing.

Acceptance: Most importantly, Kübler-Ross and Kessler are quick to say that acceptance of the reality isn’t a synonym for being all right or even okay with that reality. That’s a key point. It’s about acknowledging the loss, identifying the permanent and even endlessly painful aspects of it, the permanent changes it’s made to your life and you, and learning to live with all of that from this day forward. In their view, acceptance permits us “to withdraw our energy from the loss and begin to invest in life.” Acceptance permits the mourner to forge new relationships and connections as part of their recovery.

What does it mean to mourn the mother you deserved?

Just what it sounds like — to grieve the absence of a mother who listened to you, took pride in you, who needed you to understand her as well as she understood you, a woman willing to own up to her mistakes and not excoriate you for yours, and — yes — someone to laugh and cry with.”

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tech-support/201703/daughters-unloving-mothers-mourning-the-mom-you-deserved

#mental health #cptsd #emotional health #emotion regulation #recovery from abuse #recovery from trauma #psychology #inner child #reparenting #narcissistic mother #mother wound #abusive mother #toxic mother #dysfunctional mother #grieving #loss #childhood emotional neglect #scapegoat child #child abuse

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago

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Ooo yay!!! Can you do champagne problems? 😄💖

This took so much longer than I thought it would lol. I actually had already annotated this song a while back, but typing this up I ended up getting really into it and going down a bunch of different rabbit holes. It was really fun-- thank you so much for asking me to do it!

“champagne problems” is the second track on Taylor Swift’s ninth studio album evermore and was written by Taylor along with her boyfriend Joe Alwyn (under the pseudonym William Bowery). Taylor described this song as “the one where longtime college sweethearts have very different plans for the same night, one to end it and one who brought a ring” (x). As you can tell from that description, this is a very sad, depressing song, but it also relates to one of the main thematic elements of evermore that I discussed in my analysis of “coney island”: closure or the lack thereof at the end of a relationship. It also deals with mental health struggles and questions about what counts as a “real” problem.

Sidenote—I’ve actually considered doing one big mega post about how all of the songs on evermore come back to this idea of closure in some way or another, but it would take a really long time and I’m not sure if it would be worth the effort if no one’s going to read it. But if you’re interested, please let me know because I’d totally be down for it! :)

As with any analysis I do, this is simply my interpretation-- if you interpreted something differently, feel free to share!

Let’s get into the lyrics:

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You’re not sure which is worse

We open with the narrator describing a person who is catching the night train because they are very sad and they need a moment to think. They’re not sure if they feel better in bustling crowds, so loud and chaotic that it’s difficult to think clearly, or alongside silent sleepers, where they’re alone with nothing but their thoughts to distract them. Clearly, they’re confused as well as hurt—they don’t really know where to go or what they should be doing (there’s no specification on where the train’s going— the destination is not something on their mind at the moment). They’re just trying to understand what it is that went wrong for them.

As we’re about to find out, the person on the train is the college sweetheart who brought a ring, and the narrator is the one who did not accept it. I want to emphasize this now because despite being from the narrator’s perspective, she focuses much more on the pain of her rebuffed sweetheart. The song starts with their emotionally tumultuous train ride and continues to focus on their life throughout. Even though she’s telling the story, we never find out what the narrator did after rejecting their proposal or really anything that happens to her after that moment. Keep this in mind—I’ll be coming back to it.

Because I

Dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

Here, the chorus gives us the explanation as to what led to this train ride. Immediately, there’s a sense of abandonment: being dropped, being left behind. The person is crestfallen, or disappointed or dejected, as they stand alone where the narrator left them—a perfect image of loneliness. The way the narrator describes the events of the night is also very focused on her own actions—all of this happened because of something she did. She dropped their hand while dancing, she left them out there standing. She doesn’t try to explain or frame her actions in a way to make her seem justified in doing this. She’s not telling this story to defend herself. All she’s told us is that this is something that she did, and as a result this person was hurt by it.

The chorus also gives us the title, the rather bitter shrug at the end of each stanza. “Champagne problems” is a way to describe an issue that is pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Similar to “first world problems,” they’re the kind of things people would complain about to their friends while sipping champagne—if you can afford to complain to your friends while sipping champagne (an expensive drink usually associated with celebration), then your problems can’t be that bad. However, the phrase here is used a bit ironically. The narrator has just spent the first two stanzas describing an event that to these characters is clearly not insignificant. It goes to show that “insignificant” is subjective—to the rest of the world, one couple breaking up doesn’t really affect anything. But to that couple, their entire world has been changed. The subjectivity of what is or isn’t a champagne problem is something that Taylor returns to throughout the song.

Your mom’s ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

The second stanza of the chorus continues to dive into the heartbreak of this break-up, with tragic details such as how the narrator’s sweetheart was carrying her picture with them alongside their mother’s ring. These two lines tell us a lot about this relationship. The way “your mom’s ring” and “my picture” mirror each other in structure connect the two, showing how important the narrator was to this person—they thought of her as family. This is further proven by the fact that the ring they had planned to give to the narrator belonged to their mother—clearly, there’s a sentimental value there that they wanted to share with her, which makes the rejection all the more gut-wrenching. The mom’s ring also serves as a way to tell us that this person has a close relationship with their family, something that will continue to pop up throughout the song. On the other hand, you’ll notice that there is never any mention of the narrator’s family at all.

“Your heart was glass, I dropped it” is not only a particularly poetic reworking of the cliché of breaking someone’s heart, but also serves to further depict the narrator as the guilty party, the cause of all this pain. This is the second time she describes herself as dropping something important to her now-ex—first their hand, then their heart. This is an even more visceral description than the first, as it gives the image of glass shattering across the floor, broken beyond repair and a mess to clean up. Again, she makes no attempt to give an excuse for her behavior.

You told your family for a reason

You couldn’t keep it in

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one’s celebrating

On the surface, the scene she describes here simply continues to add to the heartbreak of this night. This person had been so excited to propose that they told their family all about it, and their family had been so certain that the narrator was going to accept that their sister bought an expensive bottle of (what do you know!) champagne to celebrate—to “splash out” is British slang meaning to spend a lot of money. However, this detail continues to show how close this person is to their family—they confide in them, they celebrate with them, and when things don’t work out, they turn to them. They clearly have a firm support system that they can turn to within their family. Again, you’ll notice that the narrator never mentions anything about her family, or any kind of support system she has to turn to.

Dom Perigon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

More depressing details follow in the second chorus. They brought the Dom Perigon to the date in which they planned to propose, assumedly the same champagne their sister splashed out on for them. Along with their mom’s ring in their pocket, this goes to show that they clearly had their family’s blessing and support in regard to this marriage. Everyone seemed really excited to help them make this proposal perfect, which just makes the unexpected rejection all the more painful.

It also makes the third line in this stanza really interesting: “your hometown skeptics called it.” Firstly, you’ll notice that the narrator separates herself from this hometown—it’s “your hometown,” not “our hometown.” It makes sense that these two wouldn’t be from the same place, as according to Taylor’s explanation they met in college, but it’s still worth noting that the rebuffed ex has both a family and a hometown (emphasis on “home”) that are mentioned several times throughout the song but the narrator, the person who’s actually telling the story, doesn’t ever mention her own.

Then there’s the fact that this person’s hometown had people who were skeptical about their relationship. That seems to indicate a couple things—for one, it gives the impression that this town is pretty small and close-knit, a kind of “everyone knows everyone else” situation. That in turn gives the impression that the narrator, as an outsider, may have had some trouble fitting in. A picture is beginning to take shape, despite the scant information we’ve been given. We have the rebuffed, heartbroken ex, coming from a supportive family and a close-knit community, and the narrator, who as far as we know has no family or hometown to look to for support. You begin to wonder if she’s the reason people were speculating that the relationship would not last. After all, she blames herself for the breakup, and she says they “called it.”

You had a speech, you’re speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn’t give a reason

Champagne problems

With the second stanza of this chorus, the narrator does something a bit differently than she has been thus far. For the first time, this rejection isn’t painted as simply something she did, the way it was in the first chorus (“I dropped your hand while dancing” “I left you out there standing” “Your heart was glass, I dropped it”). Instead, it’s something that neither of them seemed to be able to understand or control. Her ex, who had been so prepared for this moment, is rendered speechless, but not because of something she did—the line “love slipped beyond your reaches,” doesn’t really assign guilt. It just slipped away, which is why they are so confused. The narrator also reveals why she hasn’t tried to defend herself or explain why she made this decision—she doesn’t have a reason, neither for her sweetheart nor for herself. This is where it becomes clear that her sweetheart is not the only one suffering because of this night: the narrator is struggling with something that she doesn’t know how to explain. Perhaps this internal struggle has something to do with her apparent loneliness, and the reason why hometown skeptics thought this relationship was doomed to fail.

We now move on to the bridge. Taylor has often spoken on her love of writing bridges, and specifically talked about “champagne problems” in her interview with Zane Lowe for Apple Music, saying “that was one of my favorite bridges to write. I really love a bridge where you tell the full story in the bridge, like you really shift gears in that bridge” (x). The bridge here sees the narrator’s tone becoming increasingly more frenzied, with the words rushing from her uncontrollably as she looks back on this relationship leading up to the moment in which it ended, building and building until it finally reaches a climax. There’s a lot going on here, so I’m going to go through it slowly.

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

One of the things that has always made Taylor’s songwriting so powerfully relatable is how she uses small, innocuous, and yet deeply specific details to describe a relationship. Here, she uses them to describe how important this person was to the narrator. “Midas touch” references the Greek myth of King Midas, a man who turned everything he touched to gold. The narrator sees her sweetheart’s Midas touch on something very boring and normal like a Chevy door, showing how they brought something incredibly meaningful and precious into even the most mundane things in her life. “November flush” is likely referring to the way her cheeks would flush in cold weather, and “your flannel cure” is probably her sweetheart giving her their jacket to stay warm. While also being just an incredibly sweet image, it also paints her sweetheart as a type of healer, someone who takes care of her when she needs help and “cures” her when she’s suffering. This person is clearly someone the narrator relied on and cared for, the only type of emotional support of hers that she will describe in this song, which is why it hurts her just as much to end things as it hurts them.

“This dorm was once a madhouse”

I made a joke, “Well it’s made for me,” how

Like many things in this song, this serves as both a sweet memory of past relationship as well as reveals something about the narrator. The reference to a dorm indicates that they’re in college here, likely in the early stages of their relationship shortly after they met. The self-deprecating humor from the narrator seems like a natural joke for a college student to make, but the fact that she’s essentially calling herself crazy has raised a few eyebrows amongst listeners. Many have theorized that the narrator of this song is struggling with something relating to mental health and that that struggle played a role in why she turned down the proposal. While I of course have no way of knowing if this is what Taylor intended or not, it does seem plausible. The narrator has repeatedly categorized herself as an outsider with no apparent emotional support beyond that of her sweetheart. She seems to be the topic of gossip amongst their “hometown skeptics” and definitely feels as if this whole situation is her fault. All of this could be indicative of some kind of greater, invisible struggle.

Evergreen, our group of friends

Don’t think we’ll say that word again

And soon they’ll have the nerve to

Deck the halls that we once walked through

This bridge includes a lot of winter/Christmas imagery—she mentions her “November flush,” describes her friends as “evergreen” (like a Christmas tree), and says that soon they’ll “deck the halls” of their old college campus, a reference to the Christmas carol of the same name. This serves a few purposes: generally speaking, Taylor said during the premiere of the music video for lead single “willow” that she considers evermore to be the fall/winter companion to the spring/summer folklore (x). As a result, “champagne problems” includes a lot of wintery imagery along with other songs on the album (eg. “tis the damn season,” “ivy,” “evermore”).

However, this imagery also serves a purpose within the song itself. The fact that this horrific breakup is occurring right before Christmas, supposedly the happiest time of the year, is not only woefully ironic but also plays into the subjectivity of a champagne problem. Everyone is happy and joyful and blissfully unaffected by this breakup, but to the two people involved, the world is crashing down around them. The narrator is probably even more isolated than her ex, seeing as Christmas is a time for family, something her ex definitely has, but as far as we know she doesn’t. No wonder she’s getting frustrated at the people who will be putting up Christmas decorations—they only serve as a reminder of how alone she is.

She also describes their friends as evergreen, like a pine tree. Pine trees get this name because, unlike other trees that lose their leaves in the fall, their needles remain green and fragrant even in rough winter conditions. She’s remembering their group of friends as evergreen, something that they thought would never change, but at the same time she realizes that they probably won’t be saying that word (“our”) again— they aren’t their group of friends anymore, so they did change after all. This all just adds to her sense of alienation.

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready so I watch you go

This is a play on the common children’s rhyme “one for the money, two for the show, three to make ready, and four to go.” It’s been around since the mid-1800’s and was often used as a countdown for games or races in playground scenarios. It got a lot of recognition from Elvis Presley’s 1955 hit “Blue Swede Shoes,” in which he sings “Well, it’s one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, now go, cat, go” (x). Here, the well-known rhyme is twisted so that the narrator backs out when it’s time to commit to the action. There’s no “three to get ready.” Instead, she watches her sweetheart go—go as in leave the date, but also go as in move on without her, as we’ll soon see.

Sometimes you just don’t know the answer

‘Till someone’s on their knees and asks you

She reveals that this rejection was a spur of the moment decision for her—unlike her lover, who had carefully planned out the ring and the Dom Perigon and the speech, she had no idea what she was going to do in that moment. It seems that it was the fear of commitment, as described in the previous two lines, that got the best of her in the end.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride

What a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said

Here’s another instance of town gossip that shows how both the narrator and the relationship is perceived by the others around her. She doesn’t fit into the mold that they want to put her in, she’s blamed for the failure of the relationship, and she’s thought to be crazy. It seems that everyone is supporting her ex in this breakup. And while her ex is certainly deserving of support (this night has definitely put them through the emotional wringer), she needs support too, and as far as we know she’s only getting the opposite.

It’s also worth mentioning that the clean version of this song includes the line “what a shame she’s stuck in her head” in place of the f-bomb, which does change the meaning slightly. While it’s still referring to the narrator as crazy in a way, it’s more insinuating that they think she’s living in a fantasy world and doesn’t seem to get what’s happening or what she’s lost. Regardless, they still blame her for everything, and she still receives no kind of support.

But you’ll find the real thing instead

She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Here’s where we get the connection to the album’s theme of closure. The narrator promises her lover that they will move on from this relationship, that they will meet someone who loves them like they deserve and who will help them heal from this horrible moment. Their loneliness on the night train will be temporary. They will find closure, and they will be happy again. But the narrator?

And hold your hand while dancing

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom’s ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won’t remember all my

Champagne problems

She doesn’t get that closure. She’s left alone with her champagne problems, issues that everyone else writes off but that she really struggles with, alone and unsupported. Even she seems to try to write them off, emphasizing the importance of her ex and how they will find happiness. After all, she’s been singing this entire song about their champagne problems, not hers. They’ll be able to forget hers—those problems no longer affect them. The narrator, however, can’t. To her, they aren’t champagne problems. They’re her life.

#i hoped that helped!#thanks for the ask :)#the emo asgardian #taylor swift #champagne problems #song analysis no one asked for #i need a different song analysis tag lol

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tea-mew96 · 4 years ago

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Analysis: TFP Optimus Prime and a Discussion on Revenge

Disclaimer: This post is going to be a long vent about my frustrations with TFP Optimus Prime, specifically with the advice he gives to Arcee and the audience in regards to revenge. So if you’re someone who does likes him or hold similar views to him, you are probably not going to like or agree with what I’ll say in this post and that’s completely ok. The whole point of this post is to provide another perspective and open discussion with me and anyone else about this (But do so respectfully, please).

Also, there are going to be spoilers for Transformers Prime in this, so skip this post for now if you don’t want the show to be spoiled for you.

So without further ado, let me explain why TFP Optimus Prime’s stance on revenge is wrong.

For those who aren’t familiar with Transformers Prime or don’t remember everything, one of the biggest subplots of the show was Arcee and the loss of her partners, Cliffjumper and Tailgate. Throughout most of Season 1 and Season 2, Arcee is on the hunt to find out who killed Cliffjumper and to get revenge for Tailgate by going after Arachnid.

Everything with this arc was going ok...until Season 1 Episode 20, Partners.

During this episode, Arcee ends up following Arachnid, much to Optimus’ distaste. After Optimus saves Arcee from Arachnid, he tells her that seeking revenge for Tailgate is a bad idea. Later on in the episode, Starscream lets slip that he was the one who killed Cliffjumper, and Arcee reacts accordingly by attacking him. She almost kills him, but is stopped when she realizes Bumblebee is watching them and she lets Starscream go. The episode ends with Arcee saying that she thought settling scores would allow her to move on but that her actions instead lead to the Autobots losing an ally. Optimus comments that wisdom is gained, not automatically earned. This arc continues in Season 2 Episode Episode 10 Armada, where Arcee ends up trapping Arachnid in a stasis pod, ultimately ending their rivalry. The pod is taken back to base, where Ratchet says Arachnid “deserves worse”. Arcee responds that she “intended worse, more times than you know” and Optimus responds that Arcee is “stronger” for her choice.

These series of events are what ruined both Optimus as a character and Arcee’s arc for me.

Optimus tells Arcee that seeking revenge is bad and that she’s a “stronger person” for giving Arachnid a fairly merciful fate of being put in stasis. There’s one problem, though: he’s wrong. And apparently no one on the writing team knew that.

What Optimus ends up implying is that Arcee’s anger at both Arachnid and Starscream is not justified, that being mad at them for hurting her makes her a “bad person” and wanting them to suffer consequences for it is not the right path to take. Except none of that is true.

I think it’s fair to say that Arcee is victim of murder, and has a lot of trauma and emotional damage because of it. She has lost two partners that she clearly cared for and were close to, with one of them (Tailgate) dying right in front of her optics. She displays signs of depression throughout the series, and if the flashbacks in Season 1 Episode 12 Predatory are any indication, Arcee probably has a good case of PTSD too.

The thing about people who have been severely hurt and traumatized by others like this is that they need closure, and there are many ways that this can be accomplished. Forgiveness is only one way. Sometimes closure comes in the form of having the aggressors be given jail time or the death penalty. Sometimes with bullying, a victim will find peace by seeing the bully getting in trouble with the teacher and being suspended. Some find peace through therapy. Sometimes, people can only find peace by taking matters into their own hands and punishing the aggressors themselves (victims fighting back against their bullies and the story of Gary Plauche are good examples of this one). The point is that victims and their friends/family members affected by murder, rape, bullying, or any other hurtful acts is that they don’t have to forgive the ones who committed the crime, nor are they required to. In fact, many people don’t.

This is something that Optimus Prime simply doesn’t understand, and many adults don’t either.

I want you to take a quick read at these statements that people often give as solutions to bullying:

“Don’t react, just ignore them. They’ll go away.” “Don’t fight back, that’s stooping to their level” “Tell them to stop saying/doing those things, they’ll listen”

On the surface, all of these statements sound correct because these are all very tame, non-violent solutions. They’re all moral high ground statements. But almost any victim of bullying can tell you that none of this advice ever actually helped, and if you ever told a teacher someone was bullying you, you at best got ineffective solutions/similar advice to the above and at worst did nothing about it.

Optimus Prime’s statements about not seeking revenge come from the exact place that the above quotes come from: a place of wanting to appear moral and above-it-all but having none of the experience or knowledge to actually back it up.

Optimus wasn’t as close to Cliffjumper as Arcee was. Optimus didn’t see Tailgate’s gruesome death first-hand. He may be older, but being old doesn’t automatically make you right. And I find it ironic how Optimus states that wisdom is earned at a cost yet he’s the one who is clearly is struggling with that concept when it comes to Arcee.

It upsets me to no end how Optimus is contantly tellling Arcee that she’s the one who has to be the more moral, bigger, stronger person. But Starscream and Arachnid? You know, the ones who caused all of Arcee’s anguish to begin with? Naw. Arachnid can continue to tease Arcee by asking if she’s lost any more partners and Starscream can pretend to feel bad about killing Cliffjumper and then immediately brag about it the next day. Yeah, those two don’t need to change. ARCEE DOES. CUZ REVENGE BAD.

Remember how Arcee said she intended a worse fate for Arachnid and Optimus praises her for it? While the show treats that as “closure” and the end to that rivalry, I’m not convinced. For the longest time, Arcee wanted Arachnid dead. So for her to all of a sudden switch to being merciful to Arachnid seems off to me. And thus I began to wonder: Did Arcee decide to not kill Arachnid because she had a genuine change in morals, or did she do it in order to make Optimus Prime happy? Or in other words, is this a genuine change of character or this just the writers’ last-ditch attempt at pushing the “no revenge” narrative into the audience’s face? I don’t know for sure (although I’m pushing for latter in both questions) and the show doesn’t address this. And this is bad because depending on this answer, this could mean that this arc was never truly finished. If Arcee still didn’t believe or feel that having Arachnid in stasis was good enough closure, than the story isn’t fucking over. But no one of the writing team thought this far. No one was willing to put this kind of depth into the show.

Furthermore, I’d argue that this constant talk about Arcee being a “better person” is causing her to be critical of herself over things that aren’t really her fault or that she wouldn’t be able to predict the outcome of.

One is Arcee blaming herself for Smokescreen’s “death” in Season 2 Episode 21 Alpha/Omega. The other is Arcee regretting her attack on Starscream and losing a potential ally. But the reality is that Starscream is extremely fickle and having him join the Autobots wasn’t guaranteed to end in success to begin with. Even if Starscream did join the Autobots, there’s no promise that he would side with them forever. Almost all of his decisions are based off his own goals, and many times that can go against the ideas/goals of the group he’s in. Actually, Starscream does end up betraying the Autobot’s trust anyway in Season 2 Episode 23 Inside Job where Starscream uses the Autobots’ (ok, most Optimus Prime’s) trust to steal the Omega Keys and use them in order to gain Megatron’s favor again. Unsurprisingly, trauma victims in the real world also blame themselves for what happened to them too.

There’s many things about TFP Optimus Prime I can forgive. Boring characterization? Fine. An intriguing characterstic (lack of outward emotion) that has potential to be interesting but the writers never decided to explore it? Whatever. But I draw the line at shitty advice presented as a good lesson, especially when your audience is young kids who don’t know better and may need desperate help.

Kids get bullied and abused. Kids need to be told that fighting back against bullies and abusers who have hurt them doesn’t make them a bad person because the “lessons” and “solutions” that many schools and adults teach or tell rarely work. And telling them otherwise because it sounds right isn’t going to help. If anything, it’s only going to hurt those kids in the long run.

TL;DR Arcee is a good girl who deserves hugs and therapy, and Optimus Prime is a self-righteous moron who deserves to be thrown into a smelting pit.

#transformers prime #tfp #arcee #optimus prime #bullying #philosophy #revenge #tf critical #tf analysis

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militant-holy-knight · 5 years ago

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Castlevania Season 3 Review: Ellis is Gonna Ellis I Suppose.

Warning: Massive spoilers ahead because I don’t give a shit anymore so scroll down really fast if don’t want to get spoiled

Being a Castlevania fan is pure suffering, man. Not only is the video game franchise being put on ice by Konami at the time of writing, but your only form of enjoyment is a hit-or-miss Netflix Original written by a guy who admits never playing the games. I tried to enjoy the first season despite it being only four episodes long, and same thing with the second one which was longer but had a plethora of issues. Now it’s the third season, which took a year-long break to be made, and I am absolutely sorry to say it’s the absolute lowest point of the show: not only repeating the issues from the previous season, but amplifying them and failing to do anything interesting with anything new that is given. I will elaborate why I think so in this review.

So after Season 2, Dracula has been destroyed, our heroes have split up with Trevor and Sypha going their own way while Alucard has stayed behind in his father’s castle overlooking the Belmont Hold. Carmilla and Isaac have survived and are preparing to build an whole new army, the former to establish a new empire and the latter to get his revenge on her for betraying Dracula.

Even though the stakes are lower than the possible extinction of the human race which was the (possible) outcome from Season 2 which never actually came into fruition, you’d imagine they would do something inciting with this new status quo... But you’d be wrong. This season as a whole felt like padding in all conceivable manners. Not only was the pacing atrocious (which I will get into a minute), but really, nearly all of the events that occurred could have been omitted and the storyline as a whole wouldn’t have been affected somehow.

The pacing was the worst problem in Season 2 since you had the protagonists locked down inside a hold to do research on how to kill Dracula and endless exposition among the bad guys that some defenders call “vampire politics’ which ultimately went nowhere. The pacing in Season 3 is even worse since not only is it longer (10 episodes this time), you have more storylines now but each of them move at completely sluggish pace with a disproportional large amount of exposition and comparatively few action.

The Castlevania games were level-based games which had you visiting several distinct locations whether if it was inside or outside the castle. An adaptation series of Castlevania would make more sense if it was episodic in nature, perhaps even with monster of the week formula. It would have been better off for it, but the show is attempting channel Game of Thrones with an over-aching arc with sprawling individual storylines whose episodes are build up for an epic confrontation at the end, but it fails in that regard.

Trevor and Sypha’s storyline was absolutely pointless - they have no idea of the larger threat brewing with two demonic armies about to clash against each other, but they are stuck doing what basically amounts to a sidequest, investigating a evil cult operating in a small town which takes a needless long time to conclude. They completely fail in saving the townsfolk from being sacrificed and end up discovering that one of the characters that has been helping them is actually a monster all along. This only serves to make their effort completely pointless and leave the pair absolutely bitter and angry.

Not that there is any urgency in stopping Carmilla or Isaac since they come nowhere near close to trading blows to one another. In fact, Carmilla doesn’t come anywhere close to achieving her goal of raising an army of demons with Hector (who has been enslaved by her for this purpose) and it’s actually one of her lieutenants Lenore that solves this problem at the end. On the other hand, Isaac gets the closest thing to an highlight in this season by experiencing something of an character development since he is questioned by several characters that maybe humans aren’t so bad as a whole. The problem is that his development becomes inconclusive since he doesn’t learn to be anymore different than he used to.

Alucard gets sidelined like you wouldn’t believe. He spends the entire season in his castle now with two new characters, Japanese twin hunters that seek to be training so they can free their people from the vampires... Aaaaand they try to fuckin kill him, which comes out from nowhere specially after an extremely uncomfortable threesome between him and the twins. And just in case you thought the previous season was depressing enough with Alucard breaking down in tears completely alone in his castle, this one ends not only with Alucard still alone, crying, but now emulating his dad by leaving the impaled corpses of the twins in the castle’s entrance to scare off any trespassers which is the closing shot of this season.

But for me, the biggest letdown has to be Hector. He was one of my favorite characters from the games, having starred his own entry Curse of Darkness for the PS2 where he actually turns on Dracula on behalf of humanity and pursues Isaac for murdering his wife. Here, he does absolutely fuck all during the entire season except being bossed around by Carmilla’s sisters. The guy had such cool powers of summoning Innocent Devils and wielding all types of weapons (including a lightsaber) is reduced to a whimpering slave, whom I have absolutely no hope of seeing in his absolute glory. The worst part is that it was very predictable - the moment I saw Lenore saying that both her and Hector should flee together, I knew she was gonna screw him in some way. The irony is that unlike the other storylines which pull some kind of mean twist in the last second, here you already can tell what is going to happen next.

The new characters frankly do nothing for the story. The aforementioned Carmilla’s sisters are pure window-dressing and only Lenore gets the shit done by herself might I add completely independent from the others and specially Carmilla herself (who does nothing). A video game character actually does get featured - Comte of Saint-Germain, who is some kind of magician in search of his loved one who got lost in another dimension. Another step down from his video counterpart who is a time guardian that preserves the cosmic balance (though it seems they were channeling the historical figure rather than the character that happens to share the same name given their ignorance for the source material).

There are of course those typical Warren Ellis moments like three mentions of bestiality (and one goatfucking as usual) and anti-Christian commentary, though it seems to be sending some kind of mixed messages this time: in one hand Sypha comment that while she hates God, she at least admires Jesus because of his sacrifice which can be considered one of nicest things that atheists can comment about Christianity... And then the next episode features an demon that used to be a Greek philosopher who lived during post-Constantinian Roman Empire and was persecuted by Christians because of his intellect. Oh dear. With that said, it’s rather odd this guy became a demon so maybe he had it coming?

Overall, this season is a lot more weaker and lacking than Season 2, which at least had the climax in Episode 7 which some people were willing to forgive the dullness from that season. But Season 3′s climax is completely unfocused, interlaced with unnecessary and uncomfortable sex scenes and doesn’t even feature classical music from the games, which was the saving grace from the last time.

So did it have any upsides? I guess so if you look hard enough like Isaac’s schizophrenic “should I hate all humans or not” dillema which goes unresolved. Hardly anything that elevates the season or make it redeemable in some way. To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t know if I have any interest in keeping with this show. It blew away any good will Season 1 and 2 did, it barely moved the plot forward (and that if it has an overaching plot at all), the protagonists being disconnected to the main threat at large and quite frankly, none of the antagonists are as interesting as Dracula, I just don’t care what happens next. Specially if the pacing and exposition remain in place. In theory, if the series was restructured to be episodic instead of trying to be Game of Thrones, my interest in the show would have been renewed but it’s too little too late.

I guess in retrospect I should be grateful that Season 1 was so short had I knew later ones would be so tedious. There is so very little to do with Castlevania: Dracula’s Curse when you already got rid of the main villain and you don’t move the plot forward. If they want to regain my interest, do a Leon Belmont season that is episodic or heck anything else, but I don’t see them doing this because they have to give closure to this story arc, which already grew past it’s welcome and wasted everyone’s time with a season that amounted to nothing more than filler. Well, my patience has been worn thin.

#Castlevania #reviews

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lost-in-space00 · 5 years ago

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Why people are complaining about Wayward Son

WAYWARD SPOILERS

Ok, so I’ve thought a little bit more about it, and I think I kinda figured out why people are unsatisfied with Wayward Son, especially the ending. Hear me out:

So, when someone writes a book, they usually start it off with an issue or develope an issue that has to be dealt with throughout the book. For instance, in “Carry On” the Humdrum is the main issue, but we also deal with other problems like Simon and Baz’ relationship, the whole Mage-Coven thingy and Agatha and all that stuff. In the end, most of those problems get solved, resulting in a happy ending. We get Simon and Baz who are finally together, The Mage and the Humdrum get defeated and Agatha found her happiness outside of Watford. But, some of these things don’t go that well: Simon loses his magic, he never finds out about his parents and Agatha basically runs away from her life. All of these things could be viewed as “bad” or a “bad ending”, but either way the plot of the book is basically used for the characters to deal with their problems.

Now Wayward Son. We start off with two main problems: Simon’s post-trauma and sadness and his descending relationship with Baz. As readers, we expect those problems to be dealt with throughout the book, either resulting in a good or a bad ending. Either way, we expect them to be resolved. When Penny announces the road trip, it gives us a clear hint to what we should expect and how things are going to get resolved, but this is exactly where Wayward Son defies our expectations. (And this is just my opinion but) I feel like Rainbow never uses the plot of the book to resolve either of the problem, instead she uses it to create MORE problems aka the NextBlood, the Las Vegas vampires and all the dangers they meet along the way. All those problems get dealt with eventually, but the main problems still remain untouched. Sure, Simon and Baz do grow throughout the book and realise their feelings, but they never actually get to TALK with each other about them, for better or for worse, so neither do they stand strong together or break up, which doesn’t lead to any ending at all.

It’s like the problem is still the same as it was in the beginning, even though they show small hints of development, we never really reach the climax where the problem gets resolved. Same with Simon’s “depression”. He does get momentarily better on their road trip through America and forgets about his problems, but what about when they get back? Even though the ending alludes to another danger at Watford, what will Simon do when there are no more enemies to kill and no more lives to save? It seems like that’s the only thing that keeps him going in America, like it’s the only thing that truly makes him happy. Sure, he talks about getting a job and stuff when he goes home, but he still feels out of place and sad and I can’t help but think he will return to how he was in the beginning of the book when the storm is over.

In conclusion, the whole book is very unsatisfying. We never really get any end to any of the problems we expected to be resolved, which makes the whole plot seem kind of... pointless, really. Even the conclusion, even if it points to a new adventure that’s ahead of them, feels hopeless and leaves us as readers desperate for some closure that we’ll probably never get.

BUT HERE’S THE THING. I think this is exactly what Rainbow wanted with this book. Remember, this is a book about what happens to the hero after his story is over. We don’t usually see this side of fiction, but this is a book about a person’s trauma, depression and helplessness. The unsatisfying end, the hopelessness we feel and the lack of resolve is meant to show us that not everything gets better in the span of a few months and that a mere trip to “get away” doesn’t heal every wound. In fact, we might never get an actual ending, neither good or bad, because some things just don’t fully heal or get resolved. Depression and trauma are things some people deal with for a life time and even though they wish for an ending, no matter the outcome, they might never get one.

And I think that’s pretty fricking poetic. I get that this book isn’t for everyone (and trust me I would sacrifice a couple’ limbs for Simon and Baz to get their happy ending), I get that it wasn’t really what most of us expected from this sequel, but you can��t, with a right mind, call this book bad or shit on it for not being the fluffy and wholesome story you thought it was going to be.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

(also, I’m sorry @rainbowrowell for degrading your book like this. im sure there is so much more meaning to everything you wrote but i have an iq of 12 and this is the best i can do)

#wayward son #carry on #rainbow rowell #simon snow #baz #baz pitch #snowbaz #theory #happy ending #bad ending #im sorry #spoilers

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years ago

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The Long Way Home pt. 2

Here it is, part two of The Long Way Home. This one is full length at around 6.6k words and contains mentions of Damon’s abuse, character death, moments of Dark!Klaroline, and some torture.

Also, this does follow a lot of the major touchstones of the Klaus & Stefan portions of the episodes The Birthday and The Hybrid, 3x01 and 3x02 respectively. I also stole some dialogue. It’s of course NOT exactly the same at all, but just a heads up if you’re looking for a complete AU. It hasn’t diverged that far quite yet. Klaus after all, no matter what’s happened with Caroline, is only meeting her now and isn’t about to derail his plans to make more hybrids.

---

When Klaus had guided Caroline from the bar she wasn't expecting to see Elijah waiting for them. His expression likely appeared blank, bored even, to the less discerning, but she could see the flickers of irritation and confusion. His eyes were narrow as he swept them over her figure, a cool assessment.

"One of yours, Niklaus?" He asked, a slight tick in his brow as he stared at his brother.

The Hybrid grinned in response. "Not quite, brother, this here is the lovely Ms. Forbes."

This time his brow fully rose as his gaze darted back to her with now noticeable shock. "The sheriff's daughter?"

Klaus' grin widened.

Caroline watched, a little intrigued, as Elijah tucked away his emotions, his features smoothing once more to something utterly placid. "Your... curiosities aside, I do believe we still have business to attend to?"

The Hybrid chuckled, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he gestured them both on. "Right you are, brother."

---

'Always something worse' really ought to be Caroline's catch phrase by now, depressing as that was. As the three of them approached the door to one the apartments, each of them could make out commotion beyond.

Not that Klaus seemed to care, nor his brother for that matter, both of them waltzing in without a care. Caroline didn't bother, leaning against the hallway wall, well aware the threshold would bar her entrance. She was also only half listening to the exchange going on, jolting only once she heard Elijah scream. She couldn't say she was surprised by Klaus' actions, but they chilled her all the same. Such ruthlessness had to be both applauded and feared after all.

She sighed and rested more of her weight on the wall as her ears picked up the continued discussion inside. This was going to be a long wait.

"Trouble is," she heard Klaus' voice drawl, "I don't know if you'd be any good to me. The way you are now, ...you are just shy of useless. In fact, I've just recruited far more fascinating company. She's far prettier to look at too, aren't you, love?"

Caroline released another exasperated breath, knowing how to read a cue and irked by the unnecessary drama of it. All the same, she obligingly pushed off the wall to stand in the doorway. Her impassive eyes took in the shock of Stefan and Katherine. The delighted mirth of Klaus. Even poor Elijah's sprawled gray corpse.

"C-Caroline?" Stefan stuttered in confusion, a hint of panic welling underneath it.

She tilted her head, wondering at that, before realizing he feared she'd let Elena's miraculous resurrection slip. Well, they may not be friends anymore, but she wouldn't throw a child to the wolves (a tiny corner of her mind snorted) needlessly. Though none of those thoughts crossed her face, her expression as calm as when she entered.

"Stefan," she acknowledged.

He stared at her for several long moment before his shock washed away, replaced by a steely resolve. She was mildly impressed as he whirled around to face Klaus and attempted to fight for her.

"Let her go! She has nothing to do with this! Make a bargain with me."

"Quite right, she has nothing to do with this. Weren't you listening, mate? You're of no value to me. And are in no position to bargain for the likes of your brother let alone a second vampire."

"...What do you want?"

Even when the Hybrid had already swung things in his favor, he still continued with the theater of his demands. Like a cat playing with a mouse. And not even a hungry one either, he was the cat that played with his food because he could, because he was bored. Caroline could almost appreciate the, by comparison, rather blunt way he had approached her. Nothing more than the standard unspoken warnings and mind games between two ancient creatures.

Here, now, Klaus was dragging it out. He made a show of pouring himself a drink, pretending he needed time to weigh his words. As he spoke he even deigned to periodically pause and sip the alcohol, as if it were top-shelf liquor and not second rate bourbon at best.

"I heard about this one vampire, crazy bloke, always on and off the wagon for decades. When he was off, he was magnificent. 1917, he went into Monterrey and wiped out an entire migrant village...A true ripper. Sound familiar?"

His eyes darted to her as she shifted, for all that his focus had seemed to be on Stefan. Lips quirking he wondered aloud, "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Caroline read the challenge in his eyes, the clear prod for her opinions. What type of vampire she was. Well, she would have to disappoint.

"No," she said simply, tone unruffled. And she was sure he would have demanded more had Stefan not cut in.

"I haven't been that way in a very long time."

The newly revealed Ripper of Monterrey seemed to be saying this more to her than to Klaus, his eyes ashamed and pleading with her to believe him.

As if she cared for his kill count. No one reached the age she had without a slew of murders to their name, nor without one or two fuck ups they truly regretted.

"Now, now, don't look to her. Not only is she not the one in control of your brother's fate, but the Ripper is precisely the vampire I am willing to make a deal with."

Stefan's face hardened as he looked back at his tormentor. "How do I know you even have the cure at all?"

It seemed as if Klaus was just waiting for such a question to be asked. His production able to continue, as he proceeded to make a show of biting and then curing Katerina. And then watched with true schadenfreude as Stefan capitulated and began to all but guzzle the blood handed to him.

Bored and a tad disgusted Caroline moved away, choosing to lean against one of the walls once more. The wise choice considering it took almost twenty minutes before anything of interest happened. When Katerina blurred away, Klaus' voice was a whisper in the air, far too quite for a vampire not even two centuries old to hear.

"Pursue her, Caroline, and bring her back to me. I'm not finished with her quite yet."

---

Caroline stared up at the window she could just see from the front entrance, the Salvatore boarding house another half-remembered dream. It was funny, the things that lingered longest in memory. Of all the faces of her past, it had been Damon's that took the longest to blur and fade. And as the two doppelgängers and the dying had their little chat, Caroline was contemplating more important matters. Life. Death. Closure.

She hummed to herself, stepping into Katerina's path as she moved to flee. With narrowed eyes, the brunette warily regarded her, far less oblivious than Stefan.

"Caroline," she muttered, "no hard feelings." Her voice then sounded as a whisper in her ear. "I'm a survivor after all."

A crack of a snapped neck sounded through the air.

"No hard feelings," Caroline replied, well aware of the irony as she gazed down at the sprawled form of the other vampire. This time it was Katerina who was 500 years too young to come out on top. Caroline had not been about to allow the other woman to kill her for the second time, and for all that she did have some measure of admiration for Katerina's ability to survive, Caroline too had now survived the ages. More than that even, she conquered them.

Shifting her gaze from the temporary corpse to the boarding house, Caroline wondered.

---

Amusingly, Caroline tracked down her newfound companions just as Stefan was uttering, "You won't be seeing her again, you know."

Klaus' eyes met hers as soon as she came into view, his lips twitching into a slight smirk. "Ah, excellent timing, Caroline." His eyes switched targets boring into the Ripper. "You see, Stefan, I rarely get played for a fool. A little insurance policy and the dear Katerina is back in my hands."

Stunned, the Salvatore whipped around, watching with wide eyes as she let the still unconscious vampire drop to the floor.

"Consider this your final test, Ripper, before we leave this tragic little town. Prove to me you were worth my time."

Klaus had stalked up behind the other as he spoke, and Stefan tensed with every step.

"How?" He gritted out.

"Simple, mate. You're going to torture her to death."

Stefan swallowed.

"And should I decide your efforts are lacking in any way, then I will exact my price from Damon's life instead."

Defeat was painted across every line of Stefan's face.

The Caroline Stefan had known would have been horrified by the imminent torture, even if the victim was to be her once tormentor and murderess. She would have protested, spoken up, something. But this Caroline, this Caroline was a bit too darkly satisfied. How perfect it was for it to be her that delivered Katerina to her death, at Klaus' hand even. Such perfect symmetry.

Thus, Caroline only watched as the brunette was strung up with chain around her wrists, forced to bear all her weight on those limbs as her return to consciousness sent her body lightly swaying. For a young vampire, Stefan was shockingly inventive in his methods. The woman begged for her life hoping for Stefan's mercy and then honestly pleaded as her body grew more ravaged.

She died screaming.

---

Several hours of silent travel later, the three of them were checked into a suite style hotel room. Two beds, a pullout couch and a decent amount of living space.

While Stefan silently slunk away to shower off the crusted blood his clothes had carefully hidden, Klaus stepped up behind her where she leaned against the metal railing of the small balcony. The warmth he emanated was odd for a member of the undead, though she chalked it up to his recently unchained Wolf.

As water beat down on flesh and tile, Caroline waited for the man to speak. She twitched, his finger tracing a feather light pattern on the bare skin of her shoulder. With a light tug at a strand of her hair he murmured quietly, "I couldn't help but notice, sweetheart, the little gleam that entered your eyes when I mentioned Damon."

She supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had noticed, though his eyes had seemed riveted on Katerina at the time. Continuing to peer into the distance, the moon still near full as it waned, she let the silence linger for a few more moments. Neither of them in any particular hurry.

"Yes," she muttered in return, her eyelids falling to half mast as she remembered. Remembered how it felt to stare down at the once elder vampire who was still weak and bundled up in bed. As much as she had wanted to believe he had no power over her, she couldn't deny how good it had felt to see him at her mercy.

It had taken him a while, but eventually he had sensed her presence and opened his eyes to peer up at her.

"Hello, Damon," she had greeted, flatly.

He had had no time to do anything more than widen his eyes at her presence before her hand had sunk through his chest, splintered ribs as her clawed fingers clenched around his heart.

"Goodbye, Damon."

And then she had yanked her hand out.

"His death wasn't yours to issue, Caroline."

At that, Caroline whirled around, unfazed by just how close the Hybrid was standing to her. All the better for him to see the ferocity burning in her eyes.

"It was, Klaus. Deals and games aside, between the two of us I had far more right to it than you did."

The two stared each other down, Caroline unyielding and Klaus intrigued. He might have started this confrontation with an admonishment, but there was no anger in his gaze.

"This was personal," he concluded, a statement not a question.

Despite the heaviness of the situation Caroline's lip slightly quirked up. It's not as if she was ashamed of her actions, nor ashamed of their cause. Not anymore. And on matters such as these she was happy to draw her lines in the sand.

"The question is still burning in the back of your mind, I can see it. How is it that I am both the sheriff's daughter born in 1992 and a vampire to rival your own age? But regardless of how, both are fact. And when Damon first came to town I was a clueless human. It made me easy pickings, as I am sure you can imagine. A constant blood supply, a convenient minion, a warm body for him to fuck, uncaring of what I had wanted. The latter is not a forgivable offence. Not to me, Klaus."

To his credit, the Hybrid seemed to be taking her seriously, nothing on his face suggesting that he was making of light of what she had revealed. Instead, he wordlessly took a step back. Her eyes slightly widened as inclined his head to her. It was neither pity nor a taunt on his face, and he did nothing more to acknowledge her newfound personal space.

The water shut off, and Klaus pivoted to walk back into the room proper, his parting words echoing in her mind.

"Yes, it was your right. Goodnight, Caroline."

---

"Rudy! Rudy. Come on! It's too hot to make me come looking for you. Ru-"

Alyssa snapped her mouth shut as noise became apparent from the forest. It didn't sound like Rudy, whose movements were normally smooth and would greet her with his happy barking. She tensed, squinting into the darkness and trying to make out anything suspicious.

She was seconds away from retreating into the house to grab her rifle when a disheveled blonde woman, girl really, burst through a shrub. Her eyes widened in shock as the girl stumbled, nearly falling on her face, the weak porch light now illuminating a figure far more hurt than merely disheveled as she had believed. Her clothes were torn and dirty, there were scratches and bruises and blood peppering the skin of her limbs.

The girl seemed to suddenly realize her presence, jerking her head up to stare at Alyssa, her eyes bulging with panic and a tinge of hope.

"Please! Please, help me!" The girl's eyes were wild as she whipped her head around, looking frantic, hunted. "I-I don't know if I lost him. Please, I- could I come in? Just for the night! I promise."

The girl looked like she was about to jitter right out of her skin, and Alyssa couldn't help but feel for the poor girl. Her reply was near instant.

"Yes, yes of course. Please, come in." She flung the door open, shuffled on the threshold unsure whether the girl would take comfort in her touch.

Once the younger blonde was inside, Alyssa made one last sweep of the property, what little she could see, and resolved to grab the rifle after all. When she turned to face the girl once more, plans of reassurance fell to the wayside as shock consumed her.

It was like staring at an entirely different person, the fear and panic gone in favor of confident composure. The injuries that had littered her body completely gone, though her clothes remained tattered.

"My apologies," the other blonde said softly before Alyssa knew no more.

---

Caroline was careful to set the unconscious woman down gently before flashing into the kitchen to knock out the second person she could hear. With both of them (relatively) painlessly out of commission it was a simple matter for her to snoop. Receipts, planner notes, email, anything that might hint at the presence of a werewolf occasionally stopping by.

It didn't take too long to find a promising lead, as Caroline dug up several receipts from Southern Comfort belonging to a Sutton, Ray. A quick check of IDs revealed the two women to be one Sutton, Alyssa and one Miller, Kiara. The next step required some use of gentle compulsion, but a few careful questions and a memory wipe later the two were fine and none the wiser. Their dog found panting on the front porch, whining to be let in.

A mere instant later Caroline, appeared a mile away beside Klaus' black Lincoln Navigator. And she didn't waste time, tossing her phone to the Hybrid, Google Maps already opened as she explained, "There's a bar called Southern Comfort on Highway 41A, about twenty miles or so north of the border in Tullahoma." As she spoke she was also carefully peeling her disheveled outfit from her body, packing it away should she need it for another ruse, and tugging on a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top.

When she glanced over at his silence she caught the interest in his gaze, appreciative of the curves she hadn't bothered to hide, though a different curiosity glimmered beneath.

"You're quite the actress, Caroline. Such effort you exert for the humans."

She scoffed, circling around to get into the passenger seat, Klaus appearing in a flicker to get the door for her. She paused beside him. "If I had left it to the two of you, we would have been down several leads and carving a very obvious bloody swath across the Eastern seaboard. You're an Original and obviously in a celebratory mood considering your recent success, I get it. No need to be quite so fragrant about it though."

Not waiting for his reply, Caroline climbed into the car, settling into her seat as Klaus zipped around to the driver's side. The vehicle came to life with a rumble of the engine, only a few seconds pause before it accelerated down the road.

Klaus' gaze shot from the rear view mirror where Stefan's brooding face was visible to hers. "You're rather ruining Stefan's purpose here, sweetheart." Matching glints appeared in their eyes, similarly amused by the macabre inside joke.

"Hm, quite."

---

It wasn’t worth the effort to prevent her nose from slightly crinkling with distaste. Southern Comfort was very...Well, it was exactly what she expected really. She heard Klaus chuckle behind her as they walked toward the bar, no doubt having picked up on her judgmental thoughts.

"I doubt Ray will be a cooperative chap." The Hybrid sounded almost gleeful about it, and it was a struggle to resist the childish urge to roll her eyes.

"He'd be a poor werewolf if he gave up his pack so easily."

"And what will the lovely Caroline's role be today?" Is she didn't know better she would think he almost sounded concerned. It had been a while since she had last been violent, she supposed.

With a quiet hum she let a thread of power slip loose, carrying with it a net of compulsion, reassuring Klaus even as she ensnared all the humans. "I care little for unwarranted cruelty. That doesn't mean I don't accomplish what I set out to do." She peered over her shoulder, a small smirk on her lips, "I did get us here after all, didn't I?"

If there was a bit more sway in her hips as she waltzed into the bar, that was her business.

---

Throwing back a shot of tequila, Caroline relished the sharp burn of the potent alcohol. Her senses flared as a man leaned beside her at the bar, the wait finally bearing fruit.

"A woman that knows how drink? Nothing's sexier."

She turned sideways on her stool, giving the man a swift once over. A scruffy beard. Plaid and jeans. Very Southern Comfort. Also clearly the Wolf they were looking for.

"Hello, Ray," she drawled.

His eyes widened, flattered at first before he stiffened as Klaus appeared behind him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." He nodded towards her. "We started in Pensacola, met a young chap there who used to work with you before you moved to Memphis. Now, he directed us to ah what were their names? Kiara and ...Alice? No, Alyssa." His grin widened as Ray paled, body a coiled knot of tension and fear. "Lovely young women really, and they led me here. To you, Ray."

The Wolf was a roiling mixture of panic and fury. His eyes were streaked with Wolf gold as he snarled at Klaus, "What did you do to her?!"

Looking far too amused, the Hybrid gestured towards her. "Me? I did nothing. No, no I didn't even set eyes on them. If you want to ask after dear Alyssa you should really inquire after my lovely partner here."

The growl that emerged was more lupine than human, teeth unnaturally sharp as he bared them at her. "Vampire," he roared, "what did you do to my sister?"

Caroline calmly wiped away the spittle that had landed on her cheek, unimpressed by his display. "Fished around for some answers, but really Ray I would be far more concerned for yourself than your sister."

"She's quite right.” Rage tended to make fools of people, as the Wolf appeared to have somehow forgotten Klaus at his back judging by how he stiffened at his voice. “Your type is rather hard to come by, Ray. And while she may be a vampire, I am a different kind of monster. I've got some vampire, I've got some wolf."

The poor man appeared to be shocked out of his rage and catapulted straight into utter confusion. "You..what?"

"A hybrid, Ray, I'm both. You see I want to create more of me. Now you being the first werewolf that I've come across in many a moon, pun intended, I need you to direct me to your pack. So, where can I find them Ray?"

The Wolf swallowed loudly to their keen ears, fists clenched at his sides. "I won't surrender them to the likes of you. And you can't compel me. It won't work."

Klaus' eyes flicked sideways as Stefan appeared in a flash, the Wolf now thoroughly surrounded.

"Tell you what, Ray," the young vampire started, tone filled with faux friendliness, "we're going to play a little drinking game, something I like to call truth or wolfsbane."

With perfect timing the bartender silently stepped over to place a large collection of darts beside them.

A chuckle as Klaus leaned into his personal space.

"There's no fun in compulsion, Ray, but there is in crucifixion."

In an impossibly fast blur, Caroline rushed the two of them, wolf and vampire, down the length of the bar, slamming the broken legs of a stool through the man's palms, near literally crucifying him to the wall.

There was a trace of sympathy in her eyes as she listened to his screams. "You'll want to struggle, Ray, and it will be agonizing. I assure you, should you manage to rip your hands free we'll simply string you up. Again and again."

The Wolf glared up at her without saying a word, his breathing ragged and pained. Exasperated by his stubbornness she turned away, catching Stefan's eye as he mixed wolfsbane into a drink. He looked at her like she was a stranger, no doubt recalling their confrontation a month or so back. It had been sweet of him to pull her aside, to offer to take the punishment so that she could flee from Klaus. However, she had had no interest in being anywhere else.

"Your intent to rescue me is admirable though unnecessary, Stefan. I'm not the young, girly Caroline you remember anymore." He had likely thought her compelled then, but now she could see the words were sinking in.

He too looked away, letting the first of many darts fly.

More tortured bellows sounded as Caroline settled beside Klaus at the bar once more. He looked at her, the near constant curious gleam still present as he extended his hand in invitation. She quirked a brow a bit surprised by his dismissal of the show occurring behind them, one that he had finished endorsing so gleefully. Though she didn't refuse him, wondering what he was after now.

His touch was uncharacteristically gentle as he cradled her hand, tracing the deceptively soft skin of her fingers, her vampiric nature erasing any hint of hardship. "You neither revile nor relish in torture. You commit murder as unflinchingly as the rest of us, yet compassion still stays your hand. So, I can't help but wonder what is it about Stefan that makes that little glint of disdain appear in your eyes when you look at him." Yet not when you look at me, She heard unasked.

Tugging her hand free, Caroline impassively observed Stefan's progress. Ray's body was already littered with a small collection of darts and wounds, the young vampire seemingly deciding at random when to yank one free and when to simply hurl another one.

"Stefan's ability to be such an inventive torturer is useful. And his skill at it may have come as a surprise to me, but it would be rather hypocritical to be disgusted by it. No, it's his feeding habits. Past half-way to his second century, and he's barely better than a newborn. It's a disgrace."

"I've quite enjoyed his savagery in the past, sweetheart. Too few vampires revel in their true natures."

Caroline glanced back at him sharply, feeling an odd pang of disappointment at his opinions. "First of all it's not his savagery I take issue with, it's his control. I may not care much for the most malicious of our kind, but at least it's a choice on their parts, albeit a poor one. Stefan rebels against himself so fervently that it rebounds, that's not reveling in his nature it's being a slave to it." She quieted a bit, the harsher lines of her face smoothing out as she searched his, wondering what he was thinking of her now. Wondering what she thought of him. "And secondly...secondly it's not a vampire's nature to be monstrous. Our nature makes us predators. Everything beyond that are deliberate decisions. Or it should be."

---

Klaus slipped at the drink he had called over earlier, watched as the blonde predator stalked away. Such passion lied within his golden fascination.

His tongue darted out, swiping at the lingering taste of alcohol on his lips. He still wondered at the conundrum her existence posed, his mind occasionally pondering whether something as extraordinary as time travel might be possible. But that wasn't his main fixation anymore. He was far more intrigued by how a thousand years forged the woman he saw before him.

---

Stefan's spine stiffened as she stepped up behind him. She refrained from reacting, nudging him aside.

Ray looked pitiful. Palms ravaged and sluggishly leaking trails of blood. Every few inches of him was marked by a dart or the damaged flesh of one pulled free. She reached out to cup his chin, lifting his slumped head so she could look him in the eye.

"Your loyalty is admirable, Ray, but everyone has a breaking point. We'll find yours. You'll tell us where your pack is. Save yourself the trouble and give in now."

He weakly sneered through bloody teeth. "Go fuck yourself."

Caroline just tsk-ed. "Have it your way." Her form flickered as she rushed to grab something and then returned. Holding up the blade for his perusal, she spoke casually. "See this, Ray? This is a magically reinforced silver blade. 100% pure. Now, unlike what the common mythos presents, werewolves heal from silver. It would be like torturing a vampire, their recovery speeds allowing for methods beyond the limits of mere humans. Shall we have an anatomy lesson, Ray? How many organs could we count if I cut you right here?" She tapped the base of his sternum with the flat of the blade, a deft twist allowing its edge to slice through his shirt and skin. They watched together as the wound healed in seconds.

Ray looked into her dark, fathomless eyes, daring him to test her resolve.

He broke.

---

After some grouching and snark on Stefan's part the three of them arrived just beyond the perimeter of the werewolf camp, Ray's temporarily dead body slung across Stefan's shoulders.

"Ah, there they are. As promised."

A few turned in their direction at Klaus' voice, the rest gasped and stared as Stefan dropped Ray's body. One of the women ran to kneel by his side, her voice distraught. "Ray! Oh, my God. What's going on?" She looked up, a slight growl underlying her tone. "Who are you?"

A master of dramatics, Klaus took the cue to step forward, a wicked kind of mirth on his face. "The important question is who am I. Please forgive the intrusion. My name is Klaus."

The woman continued to look confused and agitated. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

He chuckled. "It will."

"You bastard!" Someone else shouted out, a younger man, teenager really, lunged out of the crowd toward Klaus.

It was effortless for the Hybrid to dodge, grinding the boy into the dirt under his heel. "None of that now. I have big plans for you all, can't have you recklessly throwing your lives away." Just to drive his point home, Klaus stepped on the poor boy to return to his original spot, continuing to speak as if nothing had occurred. "It's fascinating, actually...A werewolf who isn't beholden to the moon, a vampire who doesn't burn in the sun. A true hybrid."

Caroline shook her head, apparently Klaus' dramatics were enough to affect the rest of the world too, as Ray awoke at just that moment with a choked gasp.

"Excellent timing, Ray. Very dramatic." He couldn't have made it more obvious how much he was enjoying himself.

"What's happening to me?" In direct contrast the werewolf couldn't sound much more dazed and overwhelmed.

"Caroline, love?"

She pushed off from the tree she had been leaning on in the background, speeding forward to appear in front of the blond man half trying to disappear behind the she-wolf from earlier.

"No!" She screamed, racing forward to hurl Caroline from him, a foot away when Klaus intercepted her in the blink of an eye. Not that she would have succeeded, but Caroline appreciated the time to try the calm the poor guy. It seemed Klaus was learning.

"Hey, hey take a deep breath." His heartbeat was frantic, his scent so obviously, deliciously human. "We're not going to let Ray kill you or anything, he just needs a little bit of blood to complete his transition. Only a sip I promise." She leaned down to grab a discarded bottle and held it out to him. "He won't even have to bite you, okay?"

The man stared into her blue eyes, no compulsion, just the picture of a sweet, gentle young woman. His hyperventilating slowed. "Okay...okay."

Caroline smiled as the man took his own pocketknife, carefully cutting a shallow gash on the back of his forearm.

"Thank you," She said, turning to crouch beside Ray and offering him the bottle. "If you don't drink, you'll die."

He eyed her warily, but eventually swiped the bottle from her hand, downing it in silence.

"-rather die than be a vampire!"

Caroline sighed. Wrong choice.

"Wrong choice." A crunch of broken flesh reached her ears along with frantic struggles as Klaus forced his bloody wrist into the she-wolf's mouth. "She'll thank me for that later. Heh." With no further fanfare, the woman slumped to the ground with a broken neck. "Okay, who's next?"

Several tried to flee with no success. Three vampires (well two and the Original Hybrid) were more than enough to catch them all. Klaus also stopped playing around quite so much, methodically giving blood and snapping necks. It only took minutes for the rest of the pack to fall.

---

Then it turned into another waiting game, the anticipation only broken by Ray’s hoarse whisper.

"They're dead. They're all dead."

Caroline frowned. She tuned out Klaus' reassurances and eyed Ray, noted how he was clenching his own arms tight around his body, trembling. He should be feeling energized after transitioning, not like he was going through severe withdrawal. She sat beside him, brushing sweat soaked curls from the man's forehead, ignoring Klaus and Stefan's descent into bickering.

Her frown deepened as blood started seeping from his eyes. "Klaus," she said sharply, his body appearing on Ray's other side. "Something's wrong."

"That shouldn't be happening, should it?" Stefan asked, sounding a bit snide.

"Be silent, Stefan." "Well, obviously." They said together, their tones equally annoyed.

All the while, Ray continued to shake between the two of them, looking worse by the second. "You said it was gonna feel better. Why doesn't it feel better?"

Before Caroline could offer any of her own reassurances the she-wolf gasped awake behind her with unnatural quickness. She had only been down for ten or fifteen minutes or so. Far too short for any turning Caroline had ever witnessed. Still, she wiped the turmoil from her face and smiled over at the human.

"Come on, Derek, let's help your girlfriend."

Always something worse proved true again, as Caroline whipped around at the sound of a commotion. Watched as Ray vanished into the words, body jerking between uncoordinated scrambling and lightning fast speed. Speed to match a vampire a century old at least.

Klaus snarled. "Retrieve him, Stefan. Now!"

Taking a moment to guide Derek to a safer distance from the newly woken she-wolf, Caroline made her way over to Klaus. He too looked like he was about to vibrate out his skin, though it would be with fury not with whatever had overcome Ray.

She didn't say anything, didn't offer comforting touches as she might have with her friends. Klaus was far more likely to reject them than not, but she did offer her presence. Caroline took no joy from most people's suffering. Not that of werewolves who had done nothing to her. Not even that of a supernatural scourge like Klaus.

However, there ended up being no time for the Hybrid to calm. Around them the other wolves also jolted back to life...in a manner of speaking. Each of them already bleeding from their eyes. Klaus glanced around a grim look on his face and a curse on his tongue.

Caroline considered attempting to use Derek's blood, but the thought quickly vanished as one of the wolves lunged for them. It set off a chain reaction as more wolves leapt to attack while a few others simply keeled over. The first few Caroline only snapped their necks, partly out of regard for Klaus' plans partly out of hope Ray was a fluke. That ceased when Klaus himself started yanking out hearts.

Between the two of them it was short work putting them all down. She was more concerned for Klaus who looked enraged, but also a little bit anguished.

"I did everything I was told." There was a danger in his stillness, the quiet menace of his tone. His eyes flashed gold as he stared at her, as if she had the answers. "I should be able to turn them. I broke the curse. I killed a werewolf. I killed a vampire. I killed the doppelgänger."

Her face remained blank even as her mind raced. Perhaps she did have the answers. True, she had had no intention of condemning Elena with word of her resurrection, but now it looked like it would be one life against many. Besides, she also had her suspicions that it wasn't her death that was needed here.

---

Fury was boiling inside of him. His temper only contained by centuries of practice and a smidge of genuine regard. He had noticed how Caroline hadn't killed until he had. She may not be loyal, but she at least had respect for what he wanted. She didn't deserve his wrath.

His rage simmered a little lower still as he watched with mild surprise as the blonde stepped a few feet closer to him. Not close enough to be in immediate range, but even so. Brave of her.

And then she spoke.

"The doppelgänger isn't dead."

He froze. An instant later he had her pinned against a tree, his forearm across her throat. "What did you just say?"

"There's a spell that allows life force to be sacrificed to another. I assume Bonnie found it and used it to resurrect Elena. I saw her briefly before we left town." To her credit, the blonde remained calm, had neither fought nor flinched when he lunged for her.

He wasn't in the mood for commending people.

"And you said nothing to me. Now, why is that, lovely?"

Her lips pursed, apparently displeased with him. Unfortunate. "I hadn't thought it mattered. You successfully broke your curse, I figured Elena deserved some peace."

"Except it rather appears I haven't. Broken my curse, that is."

Despite his tone, she actually bloody reached for him, her hand gentle on his arm, not yet fighting him. "I recognize the determination in your eyes, Klaus. You won't stop until you can turn the wolves. And if I have to I will pin Elena down myself, one life in exchange for many. But consider it may not be her life that's interfering. The wolves all bled from their eyes, as if their bodies were rejecting it. Perhaps, it's not human blood that they require to turn?"

He hated to admit it, but her reasoning was sound. He'd certainly have to experiment before ending the bloody Petrova line for good. Eyes absorbing the expression in hers, he looked for any trace of deceit. After another moment he stepped back, releasing his clever vampire companion.

"Apologies, Caroline. No hard feelings?" He offered a sheepish smile in the face of her empty expression.

A tiny smirk was his only warning before he found himself staring up at the sky, his breath knocked out of him. She leaned over him.

"Now, we're even." Her smirk faded into something more serious. "Don't manhandle me again, Klaus. I won't let you off so easy if you try it a second time."

He blinked up at her, a little angry, a little shocked, and a little impressed. Slowly, he rose to his feet, still staring at her.

"...Alright, I suppose that's fair."

"More than."

It was at that moment that Stefan emerged from the forest, Ray's actual corpse this time, once more slung over his shoulder. As the Ripper approached, Klaus contemplated his two companions, the stark differences between them.

He blurred forward, ensnaring the last remaining Salvatore brother in his compulsion. His hand rose to smooth back a wild curl that had escaped the vampire's normally flawless styling job. And he let his knuckle linger on skin.

"Tell me, Stefan," he purred, "were you ever going to give me your loyalty?"

His panic was obvious in his scent even as his features remained slack under his thrall.

"No."

"Hm, and what about the doppelgänger?"

"I am doing all that I can to protect her. She will always have my loyalty."

It pained him a little to have to relinquish a connection he had once found joy in. But Stefan had just become a loose end. A vampire unwilling to be loyal, and that was before he learned of his brother's death.

"I'm afraid this is the end of the road for you, old friend."

He broke his compulsion, Stefan's eyes blowing wide. "Klaus wai-"

His heart hit the floor first. Then, his body.

Klaus stared down in silence as he took a moment to say his silent goodbyes to his friend's corpse. And then he was turning, walking smoothly over to his more trustworthy friend. He pressed a hand to her back, a mirror of an action he took not long ago, though the sentiment had entirely changed.

"Come along, Caroline. It seems you're the only companion I have left."

#Klaroline #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #My Writing

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shadowsof-thenight · 5 years ago

Text

Flashlight: Chapter seventeen

Story summary: This is an AU Two years ago, the love of your life walked out the door, breaking your heart into a million pieces. He had been unable to deal with his ptsd and you hadn’t been able to help him.Now that your best friend is marrying his friend, he’s coming back to town and you try to brace yourself for the reunion. Will you finally get closure?

Ship: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Warnings: ptsd, angst, heartbreak, depression, infertility issues

Words: 4188

***

Important notice before reading! This chapter deals with the aftermath of chapter sixteen, which means it deals with heavy feelings. On top of that another character deals with fertility issues and since that is a very sensitive subject I decided to write that into the end of this long winded chapter. You can opt to skip it. It’ll be marken by # instead of my usual * to divide scenes. If in doubt, feel free to message me and I will answer any questions you might have.

As always a massive thank you to @beanstalk007 for proofreading!

Feedback is greatly appreciated! And if you want to get tagged, let me know.

***

Masterlist Story Masterlist

***

As the door closed behind him, you crashed down onto your knees. Tears streamed down your face and you were left gasping for breath. It felt as if you were suffocating in your pain, with your heart beating so hard that it resounded in your head. Everything felt heavy and staying upright was quickly becoming too much for your body. As if all strength and energy had gone from it.

You couldn’t help but continuously think about what the therapist had said. His words, harsh though truthful, hitting you like a bullet, tearing you down and crushing your soul. The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t fight the things that he had told both you and Bucky. Although it had been hard to hear, the man had simply been honest. There was an undeniable truth to all the reasons the therapist voiced, reasons that explained why you and Bucky would be wise to create some distance from one another. You both needed space, in order to successfully walk the path of individual growth.

You would never want to stand in the way of his healing process. He deserved, more than anyone, to get better. In your mind, he deserved it more than you as well and you realised that this too was a problem. Wanting to help others was perhaps a good quality, but it was impossible to maintain if you neglect yourself. You knew that and wondered why you had let it get that far.

You just hoped that the love between you and Bucky was strong enough to withstand even this huge hurdle. That, at the end of the road that you both had to take separately, you’d find your your way back to the other. After all, there was no denying that there was so much love between you two. You felt it, knew it without a doubt, the love you shared was all encompassing. Which was also exactly why it stood in your way.

At some point you must have gotten up off the floor and changed into your pyjamas, though you had no conscious memory of it. You dropped down on your bed, sleep already tugging at your exhausted mind as it kept spinning, mulling over the events of the day. By the time exhaustion finally won you over, the tears were still falling from your eyes. The anxiety you felt created nightmares to hunt your slumber, that when you woke up you were far from rested.

You weren’t certain what woke you precisely, despite the sun fighting the darkness, your bedroom was still dark enough. Your pillows were wet and with your eyes still closed, you touched the fabric only to realise that it must have been your tears that leaked from your eyes during the night. You frowned and rubbed your face, noticing that they had now dried on your face, the salt having left their traces.

Finally, you opened your eyes and found what had woken you, or rather who. Blinking the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you finally looked into the stunning green orbs of your best friend. Her red hair was splayed on the pillow next to yours as she stared at you with a kind smile on her face. She sighed and grasped your hand, squeezing it gently, the small comforting gesture made fresh tears prickle your eyes once more. When she saw them threatening to spill over, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around you, as well as she could due to the awkward position. She rubbed your back and whispered encouraging promises in your ears, telling you that everything would work itself out eventually. You only wished you could believe her.

“I got the keys to the condo,” Natasha said softly as she pulled back slightly.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that and just nodded. It didn’t register with you why that would be important information. When she told you that she’d help you pack a bag, it finally did dawn on you and you remembered all the happy memories that had been made in that place. You wondered for a moment if you should taint that with your current disposition. Natasha, of course, wouldn’t hear of it. She simply mentioned that she thought a different environment would do you some good. And you always did like the mountains.

Natasha pushed herself up from the bed and held out her hand for you to take, something you only half heartedly accepted, allowing her to pull you up. As soon as you got off the bed, she wrapped her arms around your frame again, less awkward this time, whispering that she would be there to carry you through the sadness and that you should just let it all out. Choking out a sob, you held onto your friend, leaning on her for the strength you were currently lacking.

You were not sure how long you stood in that comforting embrace, but the moment was only broken by the sound of someone bumping into a chair. Without asking, you knew that it was Wanda and Maria on the other side of the door. You couldn’t help but smile as you imagined Wanda silently cursing the chair she had hit and the realisation that these women had dropped everything to be here for you, warmed your heart. No matter what life threw at you, they were always there. Your safety net forever, just as you intended to be theirs.

When you exited your room, Wanda was laughing silently just as Maria slipped into the bathroom. Apparently, it had not been Wanda who had walked into your furniture as you had expected. It was, instead, an uncharacteristically clumsy moment for Maria as she tried to get herself to the toilet. When she came back, she apologised as she suddenly got nauseous and wanted to play it safe. Any concerns for her health were waved away when she explained that she had eaten something bad the night before and that she would be perfectly fine.

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in the backseat of Maria’s SUV, seated next to Wanda. The cabin was at least an hour and a half from your apartment. During the drive, you learned that Maria had thought that a change in scenery would do you some good and the others had readily agreed with that. Together, they had quickly arranged this weekend away. You didn’t necessarily disagree with their plans, though you wondered how much fun you would be. You still felt a massive lack of energy, but then again, the cabin couldn’t be worse than wallowing at home on your own.

Upon arrival, the four of you sat down in the cozy living room of the holiday home. There, the girls asked you to tell them what the therapist had told. Not to make you relive it, but to help you make sense of it all. To help you work through it. By the end of the conversation, Wanda was ready to knock on the man’s door and tell him off for hurting your feelings with Maria following suit with the promise of controlled violence. You chuckled at their antics, knowing they wished they could erase your pain. It wasn’t until they were quiet once again that you noticed Natasha had not spoken yet and her solemn face told you all you needed to know about her opinion. Carefully, she muttered that there might be some truth to his words and though it hurt to hear, you could only agree.

The therapist had opened your eyes to your own behaviour and it had been long overdue. Those years without Bucky had been spent in pain, wallowing, and you had been standing still because of it. You hadn’t dealt with any of your issues and instead just went through the motions. As if your life no longer mattered, as if it stopped the moment he stepped out of the door and took your self worth with him. It was unfair to place all that on Bucky and you hadn’t meant to do it. It had placed an incredible amount of responsibility on Bucky’s shoulders, which had consumed him with guilt. Now, you could not longer deny your own share in the blame. He had done you wrong, yes, but you had stopped living, stopped fighting for yourself and that was not his burden to bear.

You knew you needed to change your behaviour, needed to allow yourself to feel all the pain and uncertainty that you had tried to drone out. You needed to get back to you again. To allow yourself to care for others, without forgetting yourself. If you kept neglecting yourself you’d be no good to anyone in the long haul and you might even drag Bucky down with you.

The amazing women that you called your friends just wanted to know how they could help you.If only you could tell them. You simply didn’t know where to start. To give you some reprieve of that question, Maria suggested a walk in the crisp mountain air. She was convinced a good exercise would help you collect your thoughts. You weren’t as certain, though the walk did sound nice. It would serve as a nice distraction while you mulled over everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.

During the walk, not much was said besides the occasional comment on the weather and the beautiful surroundings. The atmosphere was calm and comfortable. And as Maria had suspected the exercise helped calm you down considerably, it soothed your nerves and was almost enough to make you fully relaxed. It would have, had it not been for Natasha and the tensing of her shoulders. She didn’t say anything and even smiled and laughed with the rest of you, but there was something about her demeanour that told you that something was up. Of course, she denied it when you asked her about it and though you wished to know, you decided not to push the subject in that moment. Knowing full well that you’d find out eventually. She had never kept anything from you, she just usually wanted to work it out for herself first.

“I have a plan!” Wanda suddenly exclaimed as you were on the way back to the cabin.

Maria, who had been walking next to her in silence, jumped at the sudden sound and you and Natasha could not help but laugh loudly. Maria was not easy to scare, she rarely ever jumped and you were all glad to have been a witness. Maria jokingly glared as Wanda smiled sweetly. Wanda linked her arm through one of the brunette’s and pulled her close enough to peck her cheek.

“So, what about that plan of yours?” Natasha asked once all the giggles had stopped.

“I was thinking a light dinner, followed by lots of wine and snacks?” Wanda said with a bright smile while walking backwards so she could see both you and Natasha, “We can talk smack about anyone and everyone that has ever even attempted to slight us.”

She winked at you as she finished and you shook your head with a smile, understanding full well that she wanted to give you the opportunity to badmouth Bucky. Which was incredibly sweet of her, even if you had no intention of doing so. Not only did you see no need to speak ill of your handsome ex-boyfriend, you were also not about to make them listen to you badmouthing their friend. It was something you had done when he left all those years ago, and for good reason, but he had no fault in the current situation. Or at least not all blame could be put on him.

Bucky was not unproblematic, by any means, but he was a good guy. And you loved him. Even if you were not together now, or anytime soon, that part didn’t change. You would probably always love him.

“And may I also suggest that you go and take a nap, while we get the supplies for our night of drinking?” Wanda offered as she watched a yawn escape your lips. You chuckled and tried to suppress another one. You had tried to hide your exhaustion the entire walk, but the uneasy night was quickly catching up with you.

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you agreed as you opened the door to the cabin and went straight to the bedroom that you and Natasha had claimed that morning. There, you dropped back onto the bed with a deep sigh. Natasha came in after you and smiled as she bent over her suitcase to grab her wallet and a shopping bag.

“Have a nice nap, I might just join you in a bit,” she confessed as she rubbed a hand over her face.

“As long as I get to be the big spoon,” you winked and she barked out a laugh as she walked towards the bed.

Over the years, the two of you had often shared a bed and Natasha always ended up spooning you. Perhaps because she was so used to cuddling up to Clint, they had been together awfully long after all. It had become a bit of a running joke where you’d tell Clint that the cuddling was so good that you might steal her from him and Natasha would then inform you that you’d stand a good chance of winning that fight. Of course this would prompt Clint in showing some cliche display of affection for his lover, after which she would come back on that claim.

Natasha was still smiling as she leaned over you and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Just before the door closed, Maria rushed by, saying she needed a minute, before locking herself in the large bathroom across the hall from your room. You frowned, not truly registering as sleep slowly pulled you under, you barely heard her calling out that she was fine.

***

The first bottle of wine was opened during dinner, with Natasha, Wanda and yourself having a glass each. Maria denied the alcohol, citing the stomach bug that seemingly held her in its grasp. They finished the bottle in your glass as you went to do the dishes. By the time you were all in the living room, the second bottle was opened and a good portion was poured quickly. By now, you were all dress in your pyjamas and sweats and an assortment of snacks were placed on the small coffee table.

By the time the second bottle was emptied, you were getting significantly louder, which was not how you usually responded to alcohol, but you were laughing and joking so nobody complained. Wanda, with her smaller frame, was giggling more than usual - even at your horribly bad jokes - suddenly finding everything funnier than it really was. At the same time Natasha was barely showing any signs of alcohol consumption. Perhaps she was more quiet than you were used to, but that was it. Maria just watched you all with a smirk, probably relishing in the idea of skipping the hangover in the morning.

The evening began on a happy note, with you all reminiscing over things you’d experienced together. With so many years of friendship between the four of you, there were plenty of memories to choose from. Much like the day that you had worked through the storage space, your dating lives had come up. Another laugh was shared over Maria and Steve’s past, Maria perhaps laughing the loudest. She loved Steve a lot, though very much like a brother and not a lover.

Without the need to tease the men over their love lives, suddenly you all remembered the poor boys that tried to win over Natasha.The redhead had always been very picky, not giving many the time of day. That attitude had only made her more popular in high school. Wanda’s love life was not necessarily a laughing matter. She had been with the same boy for most of their high school years and even though it did not last, he had been a pretty good bloke. Her dates in college were far more enjoyable to discuss in this buzzed state that you were in. Ever since college, there had been little activity however. Wanda was quick to say that she was fine on her own, that it was rather comfortable.

You were quick to exclaim that she was too young to throw in the towel. That a pretty young woman like her would find someone and Wanda only laughed. She knew that this was not the end, though for now it was where she wanted to be. You all accepted her answer after Maria gave her a stern talk that she only ever needed to nod in her direction if she wanted help. Apparently, she had plenty of cousins and colleagues. Both you and Natasha vehemently agreed with the stern brunette and Wanda laughed again, ensuring you all that for now she was just fine on her own. If that changed, she’d happily ask your for assistance.

As things had now turned more serious though, attention quickly turned to you and your feelings. It didn’t take long for the tears to start falling and you wondered out loud if there would be another love for you, like the one you’d shared with Bucky. You understood how lucky you had been to have it once and genuinely thought that perhaps it was a once in a lifetime thing. You could only hope that you’d be able to accept a lesser love, because you were far too young to go on without it.

Natasha had quickly hugged you close, promising that there was more in life than Bucky, though she understood that you’d need time to work through this pain. She even urged you to take that time seriously. After which Maria added that perhaps this was not the end for you and Bucky after all. Just a pause, so you could both focus on your own healing. Who knew what would happen if you were both ready to move on from the hurt and heartbreak. She was right, of course, there was so much love between you and Bucky. This didn’t have to be the end, even if it needed to end right now.

It was then and there that you made a promise to your friends. No matter what would happen in the long run, you intended to be his friend now. You’d known each other too long to avoid or ignore. Besides, your group was finally complete again, you didn’t want to break it up again. Your group had been through hell and back together and you’d make it through this as a group as well.

“One condition,” Wanda voiced carefully, “If you ever feel like it’s too hard, be honest with us. We will work it out with you.”

After you agreed, Maria yawned and you knew the evening was coming to an end. The day had been long and emotionally draining, not just for you. It was time to go to bed. Getting up, you collected the glasses and bowls that had been used and quickly set about cleaning them.

“We can leave them for the morning,” Maria said, as she tried and failed to repress another yawn.

“It’s fine, sweetheart, you all go to bed!” You promised and kissed her cheek, before returning to your task.

They needed a bit more encouragement from you before they finally listened and went to bed. You moved around the quiet kitchen, no rush to your movements as you cleaned and dried everything, before putting things back where they belonged. You never liked to leave dirty dishes for the next morning, unless it was a single glass or something like that. The few times that you had ignored the dishes, you regretted it in the morning. Especially after a few glasses of wine. You were never a morning person, but with a hangover you were definitely not.

By the time you had brushed your teeth and walked into the bedroom that you and Natasha shared, there was a single light on. It stood on your nightstand and cast a warm yellow light in the room. Natasha must had turned it on before she went to sleep herself. You smiled, she was always thinking of little things like that, making things easier for others. Again you realised just how quiet she had been today and you wondered what was on her mind.

Carefully you slid under the covers, your eye on her frame as you tried not to jostle her too much. That was when you noticed that she was not asleep. She lay completely still, though she couldn’t fool you. Her breathing was far too irregular. Her shoulders were pulled up and all the muscles in her back seemed tensed. With a deep sigh you moved closer, that stubborn woman needed to open up a little easier. Allow you to ease the weight on her shoulders better. However, you didn’t say any of that. She really didn’t need to hear what she already knew. Instead you spotted up behind her and hugged her close, holding tight to let her know you were there for her.

“I'm fine,” she squeaked, her voice thick with unshed tears and you snorted, muttering a ‘yeah right’, before gently brushing her hair from her face.

“Talk to me,” you whispered, not letting go just yet.

“It’s just…nothing, really.”

“Nat, I know you want this weekend to be about me, but that does not mean you have to push your feelings down,” you continued, soothingly rubbing her arm. She needed to know that you were there for her. Being heartbroken didn’t change that, nothing ever would.

“Look if you’re not ready, that’s ok, but if it’s to spare others, please stop,” if she really didn’t want to tell you, you didn’t want to push her too much. As long as she knew that you would always be there, a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

###

You half expected her to brush aside your concern when suddenly she began to sob. Natasha rarely cried and the sound of her tears broke your heart. She turned around in your arms as the sobs wracked her body and she clung on to you. You had known her most of your life and this was the first time you had seen her in this much pain. You couldn’t possibly imagine what it was that ailed her, though you didn’t ask. She was in no position to tell you now, you had to wait for the tears to pass.

When they did, she told you about the gut wrenching fear that somehow her body was failing her. That she was failing Clint. You knew he would never think like that, he simply adored her. You didn’t think there was anything she could do or say to change that, but apparently she thought differently. She explained that for the past year or so they had been trying to get pregnant and still nothing had happened. This wasn’t something you knew much about and you were unsure what to say or do to comfort her. All you could do was hold her tight and let her cry it out.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Sometimes, it just takes a while,” you finally said, your voice steady as you repressed the emotions that flooded upon her confession. This was not the time to let those feelings out. This was about Natasha and only her.

“Have you seen a doctor about it?” You asked when she was calming down again, hoping it would not bring about a fresh wave of tears. You simply wished to know, so you could assist if she needed you. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to help your sweet caring friend through this ordeal.

“I have an appointment next week,” She explained, her breathing returning to normal. Though her voice was still thick and raspy with emotion.

“Are you going alone?”

“No, Clint took the day off” a small smile made its way to her lips. He really was a good guy, though you had known that already of course. That man had been an amazing friend to you. To everyone in his life actually.

“Good, if there is anything I can do for you, I’ll drop everything. No questions asked. Okay?!” As you spoke those words, you placed a hand on her cheek, making her look you in the eye. You hoped it would show her just how serious you were. She had been your rock for so long, it was about time you could return that favour. Preferably a million times over.

“Thanks, Y/n.” She smiled as she leaned into your sideways hug.

“What are friends for,” you whispered and held her close, rubbing her back, soothing her until she finally fell asleep.

***

Chapter eighteen

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #james Buchanan Barnes #MCU fanfiction

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merrickwood · 5 years ago

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& tell me that i’m fine.

who: merrick wood and the disaster that is her feelings and mental head space. when: january 2020 what: merrick’s manic states are getting worse and worse. ( and her regrets are getting deeper and deeper. ) a/n: i was gonna make a self para challenge but this needed to get out before i did, so.

“Merrick! Turn your music off, and go to bed!”

If it had been her father who requested it, she would have simply turned the volume up, but he was skating around the house like a scared cat, worried the slightest request would cause her to throw another piece of furniture at him. But it was her mother, who she was at least trying for - out of anyone in the family, Whitney Wood was perhaps the only one of whom Merrick might have actually listened to for the moment.

But headphones weren’t enough, even with the bass throbbing in her ears, her phone remaining silent despite her littany of texts - Ethan, of course, who had probably collapsed after work again. Lulu, obviously, who was stuck in her own thoughts too often to distract Merrick from her own. Frankie, who’d been taken, disappeared, gone, unanswered and disconnected despite how often she kept texting him. None to her sister, who was fucking running away despite what she said. None to Bradley, who she genuinely felt concern for but also held the same title she did - ex, something that didn’t bond her to him but made her feel even more isolated.

And absolutely none to Logan. Not that he’d notice, or care.

You two will figure it out.

Holly’s sympathetic eyes, as if it wasn’t her damn fault they’d broken up in the first place. And now she would leave - head for Atlanta, Jersey if she was allowed, as if Merrick didn’t step back so she could fucking man up and have Logan for herself. Her mother, a grim smile on her face whenever Ethan was around, doting over Logan when he was there with her sister.

If anyone even noticed Merrick’s anger, simmering under her skin, they didn’t say anything. Not anymore.

Now she had the excuse of her father - impregnating her best friend, fucking up his marriage, the trust Merrick had in love, she could use him as an excuse at school when she was tense, scribbling endlessly in the margins of her notebooks about the swirl of emotions she felt. Whether anyone believed her or not was irrelevant - appearances were everything, but Merrick had never been very good at playing that game. Not as well as her sister, or her mother.

She stared at her phone for a moment - silent, no incoming texts or snaps or phone calls, the lack of human contact making her feel itchy and depressed - before finding her sneakers, pulling them on with a hoodie - one of Ethan’s, thankfully, all of Logan’s that had remained after the initial break up thrown in her sisters room one day when she pulled them out after winter break - and climbing down the trellis on the side of her house.

Walking out the front door would have been less dramatic, and no one would have cared. But then ETD would have wanted to come, and Merrick needed to run, to not think, to escape the never ending pain in her heart, in her head.

Junior year was supposed to be the best. That’s what everyone had told her. Flying on the cheer squad, taking the SATs and AP courses and narrowing down colleges to look forward to in senior year. She’d had everything - a best friend, a sister, a boyfriend, an almost-sort-of-something, a status she might not have deserved but certainly followed her around. Queen, not by default, and maybe not crowned, but a tiara on her head theoretically anyways.

In six months, she’d watched everything fall down, tearing apart what didn’t come naturally. She pushed Logan until he was gone, giving him to her sister who wouldn’t even fucking realize what Merrick had sacrificed for her. She lost Garland and even with her return, god, she was dealing with her own shit and it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t like when they’d tumble in her backyard, grilling chicken and dipping it in salad dressing and sipping at wine while listening to Garland’s time abroad and fun exploits of her own youth. She fucked things up with Ethan to the point where they were indistinguishable - it was almost like dating had ruined them, made him so worried about losing her that he was afraid to really be hers - or maybe she was too fucked up because she still loved Logan, and she couldn’t fully love Ethan the way she thought she would because there was a part of her heart closed off and breaking every single day without her consent, no matter how many times she tried to block it off.

Even writing, her normal reprieve, was failing her. An entire journal scratched out, names changed, dates altered, a ‘fictional’ story as much as it could be meant to give her closure, meant to give her healing just kept her ripped open, raw and exposed and no one even noticed.

By the time she realized where she was, her breath was ragged from her run, her headphones slipped around her neck as she slowed down and went around to the back door. Frankie had always left it open - just in case. Never anyone’s number one, he was still there for everyone, and now he wasn’t anywhere - and the door, as always, was left unlocked.

She creeped through the home, noticed how disarrayed everything was even from the first day he’d disappeared - someone had been there, had taken things, but Merrick tip toed until she got to his bedroom, pushing his dresser out of the way and and tugging on the loose floorboard until she found what she wanted.

He’d always kept a stash - or three, or four - usually for sale, but always free for Merrick in exchange for her time, a movie and maybe a hand job if she was feeling so inclined - and anyone who didn’t know him so intricately would never even think to look. But it was there, a white envelope with a few pills that she pocketed quickly, as if someone was going to follow her out. A clear plastic baggie with some weed, one joint already rolled that would probably be too dry by now to give her anything good, but she pocketed that too.

There wasn’t anything else, though. And she remembered his text - i figured it out - and disappointment washed over her again. She had hoped, somehow, that this would give her an answer to at least one damn question, at least one thing she could solve and feel better with. But there was nothing, no hidden note, no coded message left for her and her alone.

She collapsed on his bed, staring at the hole in the floor, grabbing the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand and lighting one for herself, slumped against the pillows and smelling the Axe body spray every boy used too much of, nicotine coursing through her veins until she was at least able to slow her heart rate down, her discman on the floor singing away as loudly as it could but too far to be anything but mere background for her.

Come back, she thought, as hard as she could, tears gathering in her eyes once again. Come back, and make it better.

Someone. Anyone. Just fix this mess and make it better.

Even as the tears fell, she knew her prayers would be unanswered.

No one was listening to her. No one ever did.

#para #sp #& tell me that i'm fine

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freakadr0id · 6 years ago

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The Magicians 4x13

Okay so, I can’t sleep at all. To be honest, I’ll probably end up deleting this later, since it’s 2am as I am typing this up on the shitty Tumblr app and I honestly don’t know how coherent this will actually be. There’s just a bunch of emotions swirling around in my brain and in my heart that refuse to shut up. This episode is quite literally keeping me up at night. I’m hoping that if I vent into the void, then perhaps I’ll be able to get some sleep.

Yeah, you know what this is ultimately about, but let’s back up for a second and focus on the season itself first.

This season was, as I’ve mentioned before, all over the place in terms of pacing. The first 6 episodes were really strong, but started falling apart afterwards. We got an interesting premise in the first two episodes with the main characters under magical witness protection and having completely different memories and personalities. 4x03 - 4x05, although perhaps not the most plot driven episodes, gave me some of my character moments of the whole season. 4x06 was a nice step on track in terms of plot, but started the slip in terms of pacing and conflict. After 4x06 though, I feel like things really just started to get lost. The connection between the monster and the library wasn’t built up well, and the bombshell reveal of the monster’s sister and the Christopher Plover moments kind of made the whole second half of season 4 have a sort of ‘jump-the-shark’ feel to it. And then came the season finale.

This episode was, for the lack of a better term, a bit of a mess, and was ultimately indicative of the problems that plagued the second half of the season. Too many plots were resolved too quickly and with not enough pay off. First, the monsters were both trapped and defeated rather easily, with the monster’s sister being trapped within the first minute of the episode (making her appearance in the show all but pointless), and Monster Eliot being trapped using a basic bait and switch tactic. Then, Julia becomes “normal” (a decision she doesn’t even make and an event we don’t actually see on screen) and is unable to do magic, which is of itself an unsatisfying end to the whole goddess Julia plotline, but that is also resolved by the end of the episode with her able to do magic again. The monster and the library conflict is resolved in a ten minute scene with a confrontation between Penny, Alice, Q, and Everett (which could have been prevented had they just THROWN THE BOTTLES IN AT THE SAME TIME) concluding the conflict the whole season had built up in just a couple minutes. This little confrontation of course ends in Quentin’s death.

Okay. Um. So, yeah. Quentin’s death hit me hard, as I’m sure it did for all fans of The Magicians. Now normally I would be okay with the death of the main character (well, not okay, but you know what I mean), knowing that there was a possibility of bringing him back next season, but several sources have confirmed that Jason Ralph is not returning as a regular for season, which means he’s done. That’s it. No more Q. Which is just....yeah. I knew there had been rumors surrounding Jason’s agent or something like that (I don’t remember quite what it was), which caused some people to suspect that he wasn’t returning to the show, but I never would have thought those rumors would be true. The fact that Jason is not coming back makes Q’s death and the entire season that much worse.

I do not like how Q’s death was handled. Ignoring the whole “bury your gays” thing going on, there’s just not enough resolved in Quentin’s story to make his death something meaningful to fans. For this being a character’s last season, there was very little for Quentin to do this season. Outside of the first and last three episodes (two of which he wasn’t even himself in) he did not have that much significance to the plot, which I get is kind of the point of The Magicians as a series. There is also the fact that Q and Eliot only spoke to each other once in this whole season, and did not get any closure in regards to their relationship. I am admittedly biased as a Queliot shipper, but what was the point of bringing up 3x05 again without a proper emotional conclusion. And again I understand that is the point they were trying to make with this, death doesn’t always happen with a happy ending or a completed story, but Quentin (and all the others) deserves better.

I do not mind that Q sacrificed himself for his friends. In fact, that is how I pictured him going (although not permanently). What I didn’t like was the line implying that his sacrifice was a suicide. Q didn’t have to say that, and the fact they had the Suicide Prevention Hotline number at the end of the episode does not overshadow the fact that they had their majorly depressive main character imply that this was a suicide and that any development that he had made as a character in regards to his mental well-being up until this point was moot. For a show that encouraged discussion about mental illness, it really dropped the ball on that one.

Then, there is the whole meta aspect of this. It seems to me that the writers were so determined to make Quentin’s death an emotional gut-punch that they sacrificed consistent writing and audience trust for the sake of a twist ending. Several sources have stated that both the production team and Jason Ralph knew at the beginning of the season that this was going to be his last, which makes this season look that much messier. Normally I would probably say that excuses some of the sloppy story and pacing of the season but that doesn’t work in this case, since they knew early on that Jason was leaving. They knew that this was going to be Q’s last season, and instead of making this a worthy farewell for him, they pushed him off to the sidelines for the sake of building up the ensemble to compensate for his absence; prolonged the monster plot so all signs would point to Eliot possibly dying due to his possession and included 4x05 and a relationship tease for Quentin and Eliot; all for the sake of an audience midirect and to prevent them from guessing it. And it goes beyond that! From all indications (although admittedly none of this is verified) it looks like the other actors had no knowledge of this, were given fake scenes for the ending and were not shown the episode until shortly before the official airing. Whether or not this was for some weird legal reason or to prevent potential spoilers is unclear, but it seems to be for the sake of keeping the audience in the dark. It seems mean to keep the actors in the dark as well, especially seeing the reactions this episode has gotten and leaving the unkowing actors to perform crowd control, but then again, I don’t know the ins and outs of the television business. Look, as a self-proclaimed writer I get wanting to have that emotional gut-punch land with the audience, and it kind of sucks when people end up guessing it, but it should not outweigh the more crucial parts in telling the story.

TL;DR: The writers did so much in their power to keep Q’s death a secret that they sacrificed the integrity of the season, the audience’s trust and the significance of Q’s death.

Will I stop watching the show because of this? Probably not. I’ll still likely watch season 5 (just as I did when OUaT did this, even though all my favorite characters were gone) and I hope this next season is better. I am curious as to whar they’ll do next season and how they’ll make up for the void Q’s absence leaves.

I watch to reiterate that this is not the fault of Jason, Jade, Hale, Brittany, Olivia, Arjun, Stella, or any of the actors involved in the show. Please do not send hate to them. They don’t deserve it and do wonderful work on the show. Please don’t send hate directly to the writers either. Trust me, they know you’re upset, and they really don’t need to be bombarded with horrible messages. You are valid in your sadness and anger, just please avoid any harrasment of any of The Magicians staff.

I still can’t stop crying though.

#the magicians #quentin coldwater #queliot #the magicians season 4 #the magicians 4x13 #so many tears #seriously #every time i close my eyes i think of q and i start crying all over again #i just want sleep #dont even get me started on how female characters were written this season #serously dont

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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And My Heart Burned In That Lodge

Michael (Mike) Munroe x Reader (female)

Warnings: Death, Grief, Dealing with loss, Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: ANGST

Summary: None of them will ever be the same, who knows if they’ll even heal. However, the case is different for Mike. He’s left to be dealing with the guilt, grief and the haunting memory of his friend’s death. He’s angry with himself for all the wrong things he did and all the right things he was too much of a coward to do. Now, his only closure is talking to a gravestone, hoping the wind in the graveyard will pass the message onto the person who the words are meant for.

Requested by Anon. Wish I could tag them, they have such amazing ideas ❤

PS - Sorry this is hella long, I got carried away LOL

I stand aside, watching as my friends place their flowers on her grave. I can hear their cries. For some odd reason I can’t find it in me to feel sympathy or the need to go over there and be with them. I can’t see how that would do anything but make me feel more miserable. Standing here, seeing this scene unfold in front of me, I can’t help but be reminded of how it all started.

Fuck Mondays, man. Fuck them from the bottom of my heart. Even worse, this is the first week of school after winter break so no one wants to be here. Even even worse, this is the first time I’ll be seeing Emily after out breakup. We broke up over text and while I’m aware that’s the worst way to break up with someone, I must admit it was the only way for a lot of arguing and awkwardness to be avoided.

It’s the first time I’m coming to school alone in a while. Without Emily, the car was pleasantly quiet aside from the songs on the radio. Not gonna lie, it felt a bit lonely. Being single for the first time in what feels like forever is both liberating and oddly melancholic. I try to push the self-loathing and the depressing thoughts away as my eyes scan the hallway, looking for the group of familiar faces. My gang. We used to be ten people but we lost two girls during our winter getaway at the Washington lodge. Josh’s sisters, Hannah and Beth, went missing and are presumably dead, all cause of a stupid prank Jess, Emily and I concocted, convincing Matt and Ash to go along with it. In retrospect, I don’t know what we were thinking.

‘Seriously, Mike? From one depressing thought to another? Is your brain lacking serotonin today more than usual or what?‘ I mentally scold myself just as I spot two familiar faces - Sam and Ashley.

It doesn’t take long for me to notice the rest of the gang - Matt, Jess and Chris - all standing near by, surrounding a girl I have never seen before. She sticks out immediately with her long H/C hair and shiny E/C eyes. Jess has her arm linked with the girl, a gesture really out of place for Jess. I mean, her and Emily are pretty close and I’ve never even seen them hug.

“Hey, man. How are you?“ Matt notices me first, lifting his head and smiling at me. His greeting leads the others to look in my direction as well, including the girl. I catch Jess lean down in and whisper something to her. I can’t hear what she’s saying but it clearly aggravates her. I have never received a dirtier look from a girl in my entire life. I usually have the opposite effect on women but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“Mike...” Jess steps away from the girl and towards me, “this is my best friend, Y/N. She just got transferred here.” She turns her attention back to the girl, “Y/N, this is Mike.”

Y/N looks unamused as she outstretches her arm in my direction. “Nice to meet you” is what she says, but her expression clearly tells me she would like to see as little of me as possible. At least she’s polite, right?

“Likewise.” The handshake is brief and, despite her obvious distaste for me, she still gives me a firm handshake.

“Wait, you were transferred? I thought Jess said you came here cause you moved.” Sam furrows her brows in confusion.

“Well, it’s really a chicken and the egg type of situation.” Y/N laughs, rubbing the back of her neck almost nervously, “We moved because I had to transfer.” Yikes.“ Ashley comments, “Not to pry or anything, but why did you have to be transferred?“

Y/N looks me dead in the eyes, as if she’s sending me a message that I better not overlook, or so help me God I’ll be dead. ”Noses randomly broke when I was around.”

It hurts so much to look back on those times and not pick up on what I was feeling. I foolishly decided that if I can’t give the feelings a name or find them a purpose I should turn a blind eye. I wasn’t that ignorant, I could tell she was the cause, but I could never admit it.

And then there’s the situation with Jess...

“You hurt her, and I’ll kill you.“

I found Y/N by the bleachers and let me tell you, she’s quite the paradox. She’s a straight A, no nonsense, intelligent beyond her years girl. With all these characteristics, you’d think she’d know better than to smoke cigarettes. Wrong! She’s a smoker. Jess can never not complain about the smell of cigarette smoke, it’s a miracle these two get along.

To my ‘hi’ she responded with what looked to be an eyeroll and an annoyed release of smoke through her nostrils. Even though I know I’m not welcome to be in her proximity, I still decide to sit down a little ways away from her, for personal space and all that. Definitely not cause I’m slightly afraid of her. No way.

We just sit in silence until she hits me with the aforementioned threat. I am caught off guard. All I can do is stare straight ahead of me like a deer in headlights. After maybe thirty seconds of absolute confusion I manage to turn my head to look at her. “What are you talking about?” The question is supposed to sound harsh but compared to the way she spit out that death threat it sounded more like a whimper.

“You are such an ignorant asshole.“ She shakes her head, throwing her cigarette on the bench below her. She stomps on it and walks away. I can’t help but stare at her until she’s out of sight. I feel like I’m watching something non-human. A phenomenon you can experience once in a lifetime - if you’re lucky.

She’s the complete opposite of Jess: grounded, smart, rational. The only time I’ve seen her be so unpleasant is around me. I catch her interactions with the rest of the gang. From afar, she seems like the nicest, friendliest girl. And then she catches a glimpse of me and her mood changes. I don’t know what’s her problem with me but I know it most certainly isn’t something I’ve done to her. She’s been like that since the first moment we were introduced, so either Jess has talked a lot of shit about me or she just hates people named Michael. I may never know.

I had no idea what she meant at the time and only found out three weeks ago. Speaking of three weeks ago, the group once again headed for the Blackwood Pines, trying to hide their uneasiness with make excitement. I was pretty hyped when I heard we were going because that also meant our friend Josh was finally starting to get better. He hadn’t been in a good mindset since his sisters went missing and we were all really worried for him but weren’t allowed to show it because he always insisted he was fine.

He wasn’t. He was as messed up as ever and served as only the prologue to the nightmare of a night we had to live through.

But before all that could happen, the night started off well. Better than expected. The eeriness of the mountain combined with the bad memories we had of the place we still there, we could all feel the tension, but we did a good job masking it with jokes and whatnot. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to go and not only because of what happened the year prior.

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N’s coming too?“ I ask, looking at Josh with wide eyes.

The guy is clearly confused by my overdramatic reaction to him counting down the names of the ones who had already RSVPd ‘Yes’. “Is that a problem or something?”

I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. It’s embarrassing to admit, really. “She doesn’t like me, and that puts it mildly. She hates me.”

He looks even more baffled than before, “Why? What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Not a single thing. I haven’t even had a proper interaction with her.“ Talking about this matter exhausts me, mostly cause I can’t even express half the things I’m feeling.

There’s been a time or two I’ve caught her looking at me but her eyes weren’t filled with that distrust I’m used to. She looks away quickly when we make eye contact, as if she can’t put the mean mask on in time and she has to look away to do a system reset. I sometimes catch myself looking at her without realizing. I try to tell myself I do it for the purpose of solving her.

‘Who are you kidding, Munroe?‘

* * *

And here I am, climbing up the mountain to the Washington lodge. I’ve made it a goal to use this getaway to mend things with Y/N. It’s the only way for me to get back to normal. To get my mind back since she’s recently been living in my head rent-free. I’m bullshitting, not just recently. She’s taken over my brain since day one. I can’t place what’s going on with me, I can’t find a term to label it with and I most definitely can’t find a way to stop it. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t stop it on my own, she’ll have to do it for me.

Another thing - I’ve never felt nervous or self-conscious around a girl all my life. Never. My friends joke that I’m a ladies’ man and I’d say that’s pretty true. So I have a tough time understanding how I turn into an awkward turtle that’s missing confidence when she’s around.

Once we all get settled in and there’s a fire going, giving the lodge a cozy atmosphere, it’s every man for themselves. Everyone picks a activity they want to occupy themselves with and the living room of the lodge empties out, leaving me there alone.

I scroll stare at the screen of my now useless phone. The thing has no reception and no way of keeping me busy, leaving my attention to wander to the voices that are getting more and more distant as my friends walk out of the room.

I can’t help but overhear Jess say to Y/N, “You haven’t even set your bag down yet and you’re going for a smoke? Jeez, Y/N.”

“You say as though you don’t know me.“ Y/N laughs, the sound of a door opening following after her voice.

It’s such a nice sound, her laugh. I’ve never heard it before. I’ve seen her smile and seen her chuckle at someone’s joke, but it was never actually a laugh. Seems she keeps those for special occasions.

If she’s in the type of mood to laugh, she’s in the type of mood to be civil with me. Before I can talk myself out of the on-spot decision, I mentally slap myself and get off the couch, walking to the door to the side deck.

“You’ve got this, she’s just a person”

“Who’s just a person?“ her voice cuts through the silence of the outdoors.

‘SHIT I SAID THAT OUT LOUD‘

I decide to carry this all the way, no shortcuts. No backing out. Somehow, now that she’s standing in front of me - a cigarette between her fingers, her shoulders tense from of the cold - I find it easier to get the words out. She’s just as human as everyone else. The cold causes her to shrivel up. She’s addicted to tobacco. She’s not some riddle I need to solve, just a person I need to talk to in order to understand.

“You.“ I reply, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?“

She shakes her head, her shoulders trembling a bit, “It builds the immune system.”

“No, it makes you suffer.“ I shrug my jacket off, cautiously approaching her and wrapping it around her.

Surprisingly, she accepts it with a nod and a murmured ‘thanks’, holding onto it with the hand that’s not holding her cigarette. “Why were you reminding yourself that I’m just a person? Do I not look like one?” She scoffs, facing away from me to look at the snowy hills ahead.

“No, no, not that. You just make me nervous that’s all.“

She whirls around, giving me this look as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Really? Why’s that?“ she puts out her cigarette on the wooden railing, focusing all her attention on me.

My hand instinctively goes up to the back of my neck, feeling my face start to heat up. “Well, you’re not really fond of me. And I don’t know why, and....” I trail off, sighing in self-disappointment, “And I wanna know why.”

Her expression turns the complete opposite, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s not about something you have done. It’s about what you might’ve done.”

Despite feeling slightly relieved, I am no less confused than I was a minute ago. “And what is that?”

“Break my best friend’s heart.“ She looks a lot more serious now, “You really had no idea she was head over heels for you just a month ago. You were so oblivious and she was so whipped...“ frustration radiates off of her, “I just didn’t want her to get hurt.“ She closes her eyes, stabilizing herself before finishing her statement, “I didn’t want to hurt her.“

“Wait, what?“

The hurt that paints itself on her face is contagious. I feel it too and I don’t even know what’s causing it. “She always told me about you. Mike this and Mike that. She made you sound like the best guy in the world. And...I really wanted to be let down when I met you, but you were nothing but nice to me and to the other people in the group. But you were also such a jerk from time to time. You are just too...Fucking forget it.”

In a blink of an eye she puts my jacket over the railing and runs inside the lodge.

“Y/N, wait!“

Needless to say, running after her was the best decision I’ve made. I didn’t get her to admit to anything, but at least we lied down the armor and agreed to give each other some time to get to know one another. Drop aside the assumptions and give a this acquaintanceship the chance to become a friendship.

Sadly, all good things come to an end way sooner than we want. The rest of that dreadful night I witnessed her transform. When everyone was freaking out, she held them and comforted them. I saw the fear in her eyes but she never let it shine through in her actions. She was the one still holding it together even after she saw that disgusting creature. Her and I were the ones to turn that sanatorium upside down. We were with Josh in the mines. We were the ones to see the Wendigo first. We were by each other’s side the entire time. We had each other’s backs.

I’ve never felt such a connection with someone. I was experiencing the most intimate understanding with a person in the worst moment of my life. It was bittersweet. The poison mixed with the cure.

Even when she knew her death was approaching, her only reaction was a single tear. A single crystal drop running down her cheek.

We can make a break. We can run right out of this hell hole and turn it to ash, all we need is for this fucking to focus its attention elsewhere. Thankfully Chris, Ash and Emily have made it out already and they’re safe. However, Sam, Y/N and I are trapped. The silent looks we exchange are laced with fear and panic. We have to calculate our next moves down to a millisecond and we don’t even know what those next moves should be.

Suddenly, a sharp pain starts spreading from my hand shoulder. My adrenaline is no longer doing a good job blocking out the pain of the fingers I had to sever. I slip up, letting out a hiss. The pain is just that unbearable.

That thing turn at the speed of light, letting out a screech and heading in my direction. My whole body is tense I couldn’t move if I wanted to but my arm is in such a horribly painful position, I think I’ll faint if I don’t readjust it.

“HEY!“ The voice comes from opposite me and my heart drops.

Sam’s next to me. It’s not her. It’s Y/N.

The Wendigo loses interest in me as soon as it hears her yell turning and heading straight for her. It all starts sinking in. Now that it’s facing away, Sam and I can make it out. But she can’t. It’s over for her. There’s no way she’s leaving this lodge.

I catch her eyes from across the room. Her posture says a fighter, but her eyes scream ‘petrified’. She knows it too. She knows it’s game over. A single tear rolls down her cheek, shattering my heart.

That’s the last vulnerable moment, however. She turns her head, deciding to go out without showing a glint of fear to that piece of shit. I don’t have to look at Sam or tell her what to do. We’re both aware that we’re about to make it out, losing Y/N in the process.

It happens in a split second. Y/N spits at the Wendigo and then next thing I see is her laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

The dash out of the lodge is a blur. The last thing I remember is sitting outside of the burning building, staring at the flames. The lodge wasn’t the only thing burning. Years of memories; history; wendigos; and my heart burnt in that lodge.

I see the group leave the graveyard. I struggle to move forward, my limbs heavy. I feel gravity is a lot stronger all of a sudden.

I didn’t go to the final goodbye. I knew it wasn’t her. There was nothing left of her to bury. Sam told me they buried things that reminded people of her and objects she cherished.

Well it’s time I give my goodbye.

I shrug my jacket off - the same jacket from that night - and put it around the gravestone like I put it over her shoulders. There’s a box of the cigarettes she smoked in the inner pocket.

“I hope you felt what I felt, Y/N. I hope I didn’t have to say it for you to notice it. I wish I knew...cause now it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” I can’t stop the tears, I’m too weak and I’ve been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve never believed in an afterlife. But I really hope there is one, just so we can meet again.” I scoff, shaking my head, “Who am I kidding, I’m probably going to hell.”

I believe that’s where I deserve to go, anyway. I’m the reason she died. And I will never let myself live that down. I will never forgive myself. A flame like no other burnt out so mine could keep burning. I will make sure it haunts me till the day I leave this world behind.

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onewhoturns · 5 years ago

Text

Fireworks (3/4)

This is... the fluffiest. xD Hello and welcome to Jonas and Alex are dorks with each other. If you want to start from the beginning: Part 1, Part 2. Feel free to hit up my AO3 if you’re interested.

Fandom: Oxenfree Pairing: Alex/Jonas Chapter: 3/4 Characters: Alex, Jonas, Michael, Ren, (later) Nona, Clarissa Word count: 2568 Rating: T for language Summary: The one saving grace of that first kiss (apart from, well, it wasn’t a bad kiss) – the one thing she could point to as making the kiss sort of okay, morally – was that it was in a timeline where they were just friends. Well… okay, maybe the kiss might have changed that. A little? Or maybe it didn’t get a chance to, much, cause Alex was too busy shutting herself away and having a teensy tiny crisis over kissing her sometimes-stepbrother. And then, naturally, as always seemed to happen July 8th, it would be May 1st all over again. or: the First, the Fourth, the Fireworks.

If anyone had told her that approximately 14 months after whatever the hell happened on Edwards Island she’d - they’d all - be heading back to that cursed place, Alex wouldn’t have believed them. And as she watches her friends faces, as Michael hands the drive thru bag to Clarissa, and the fast food is doled out among them, she thinks that maybe there’s some fear under their smiles.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Clarissa is doing that thing where she wants to be a bitch but is just a hair past the line of ‘too nice’ to do it. She’s always so much nicer in the later half of the loops. When she exists. “But… is there any particular reason we’ve jammed five people in this car when Jonas is stuck driving alone?”

Michael hums a noise that is suspicious for its innocence, and Alex feels like everyone’s eyes turn to her. Michael is stopped at the turn out of the parking lot, shooting her a look over his shoulder that says well it had to happen sooner or later. And he’s right.

Alex sighs melodramatically. “Yeah okay fine, I’ll go be Jonas’s navigator.” She pops the door open and steps out, pulling her backpack from where it was wedged under the seat.

“Great! Finally getting my fries all to myself!” Ren seems overjoyed, and Alex’s eyes narrow at his mischievous grin, wondering just how much he knows. Jonas and Ren always get along a lot better in the timelines when Michael’s back. But well enough for him to mention the— um…? “Alex, if you don’t get moving you’ll be holding up traffic and we’ll get stopped and our glorious plans will never come to fruition.”

“...Not necessarily a bad thing…” she mutters, but closes the door and lets them drive off as Jonas’s truck pulls forward.

It’s a hand-me-down, well worn, and by now she’s familiar with it— how much the handle sticks, how she’s really gotta yank the passenger side door, the right spot to step on the running board to swing herself up into the front seat.

He looks surprised to see her, though he obviously knew she was getting in since he was the one who stopped for her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She avoids his eyes, settling her pack between her feet as he pulls out of the lot, and digging in her paper bag for— “Yesss.” The box is popped and that perfect high sodium nugget is in her mouth immediately.

“Still think it’s weird you don’t use sauces. Not that I’m complaining--I mean, I’d rather not have ketchup smell soaking into the upholstery, but still.”

“Why on Earth would I mar the perfection of a well-fried nugget?” She gives him a pitying look, but he’s grinning, and she’s grinning, and everything is back to normal. And when he looks back to the road, she feels a little tug in her gut that could be anxiety but feels a lot less awful.

“You know that stuff is just fleshy bits all held together with meat glue-”

“Shushushushush!” Alex waves a finger at him. “Do not. Ruin this for me.”

He’s smirking, and it’s cute. Dammit, he’s cute. Since when is he cute?

“...Just for that, I’m taking a fry tax.”

“What?!” For all his shock and horror he can’t hide his smile and she’s already digging in his to-go bag. “If anything, I deserve a tax of your disgusting dry nuggets, for driving.”

“Jonas, seriously? A burger? How exactly did you plan on eating this while driving?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Wait til we get there? I mean, it’s July, it’ll keep warm-ish.”

He’s kind of right, but it’s also kind of gross. Plus the sun will be down in the next hour and it’s already cooling down outside. “Hoo, bud, that is a str-etch.”

“Hey, give me a break, okay? I haven’t driven to the ferry before, how was I supposed to know it’s far enough that we’ll need provisions for the drive?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe Google?”

“Okay you know what? You’re the fry wench now. For that, you are the fry wench.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Riiiight.”

“Nope, it’s a thing now. Fry me. Wench.”

There’s a vicious grin on her lips, spotting her secret weapon nestled in the cup holder. “Owo, what’s this?”

“Did you seriously just—” Jonas’s words stop as she lifts the cup. “Alex…” It’s a warning, but not one she plans to heed. Her fingers pop off the lid. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh: I dare.” Her smirk is straight up evil as she brings the fry to the milkshake’s edge. “I am the dare-iest.” She snorts and repeats, “I am the dairy -est.”

“First you ruin my threaten to ruin my milkshake and now you’re punning about it?” He shakes his head disappointedly.

“The only fry sauce for me.”

Jonas lets out an audible hiss, wincing as she dunks the fry. “You’re a monster.”

“You’re a cretin with an unrefined palate,” she shoots back, exaggeratedly humming her enjoyment as she chows down on french fry and chocolate milkshake.

“Dry nuggets and soggy fries,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval.

“One day you will taste the majesty that I taste and you will be enlightened and choirs of angels will sing you to flavor heaven.”

He’s skeptical, but amused as he shoots her a look out the corner of his eye. “...Okay.” He catches the raise of her eyebrow and laughs. “Screw it, right? Why not now? Fry me, humble fry wench. Gimme that soggy fry.”

There’s a look of triumph, of complete and utter self-satisfaction, as Alex picks out the perfect fry for the job.

And then eats that one, and picks out another.

“Why don’t you just buy your own fr-” He stops cause she’s about to poke him in the chin with a milkshake-covered fry, so he just shoots her a side-eyed glance and eats it. She’s chomping down on her own (perfectly seasoned, no-sauce-needed) nuggets as she watches his brow furrow, watching the road before them - Michael’s tail lights - with a look of utter concentration.

“Hm?” She bats her eyelashes, about 90% sure she’s won this debate.

Jonas’s lips twist and she thinks he’s chewing his cheek before he finally speaks. “...It’s… okay.”

“Ha! It’s delicious, you lying liar.”

His tongue swipes out for just a second to catch the last grains of salt on his lip, and he’s giving her that begrudging amused look, and she suddenly remembers that kissing isn’t bad and-- oof-- where did that even come from?

“It’s… what’s the opposite of sub?”

She knows what he means, though the context is lacking. “Super?”

“It’s super-par? That doesn’t sound right.”

Finishing off her nuggets and licking her fingers clean, Alex preens; “Just super will do. Super duper, even,” and ignores his snorted response.

“...How much longer is this drive, anyway?”

“Like… thirty minutes?”

For the first time since she entered the car, there’s a moment of silence.

“Um…”

She’s suddenly holding her breath. There’s just a teeensy bit of terror that he’s gonna ask her some Big Loaded Question about their kiss. But when he finally brings himself to say something, it’s a lot more relevant.

“So. The island.”

Crap. She’d almost forgotten about that for a second. “Yeah… Why did Ren pick it?”

Jonas lets out a heavy breath. “Pretty sure it’s some BS about closure.”

Alex is definitely too comfortable with him, cause the bitter laugh is nervously bubbling from her throat before she thinks to stop it. “Pretty sure there’s no closure in a loop. Or-- well, like, I mean it’s a closed loop, but-- but it’s already happened? Or… something?” Ugh. So much for living in the moment. She makes a weak attempt to wipe the soles of her mostly clean beat-up high tops on the car’s rubber mats before pulling her legs onto the seat, criss-cross applesauce, just like elementary school. His annoyance at feet on the upholstery is minimal. This truck has seen much worse than a few pebbles and a bit of dirt.

“Well, yeah, but…” His fingers are drumming on the steering wheel. “...I mean, maybe he’s right. It was a year ago. It’s over.”

His free hand digs through the bag for his food, and unthinkingly grabs the spilled fry pieces and dips them in the uncapped shake before popping them in his mouth. There’s definitely an urge to point it out and crow about it, but Alex is no longer in the mood. It’s not over. It’s never over. Instead, since he seems intent on doing it, she unwraps the burger for him and holds her tongue from warning him how ridiculously stupid it is to try to eat a burger while driving. And when he reaches for it he has that same soft look on his face, and he maybe takes a little too long to take it from her hand, and she feels a tiny bit noodle-y as blood rushes to her cheeks.

The effect is lessened a bit as he inevitably drops shredded lettuce on his shirt, and there’s a cynical edge to her poorly hidden affectionate smirk. Of course she’d figure this out now. Too late. Too early. Too much of a wrench in the cycle of island-island-island. He’s… bent the spokes of her tire, or... something. Whatever it is, it’s just gonna make it harder to deal with the leaving.

She sighs, feeling like her lungs are being pressed of all their air. It’s not the first time she’s backhandedly grateful that she won’t remember it all at once. A twisted kind of blessing and curse all at once. She remembers too late to stop it, but still has to remember. It usually just ends up confusing. Or depressing.

Or both.

If she were looking at him she might see the way he glances over at her, the way he keeps glancing back and forth between her and the road, mildly irritated by the food in his hand, looking at her hand instead, before he finally settles on just finishing his burger as soon as possible. But she’s not, so all she sees is him taking massive bites.

She raises an eyebrow. “You good there, bucko? Don’t forget to breathe.”

He shoots her a vaguely irritated look, but his mouth is too full for a comeback. Which, okay, maybe that does lighten her mood just a bit. Alex does not stop stealing fries. She, of course, rationalizes this with the fact that they’re already getting cold, and cold fries are of no use to anyone. The only sign that he spots her continuous filching is the occasional side-eye she gets. But she just turns straight ahead, watches the back window of Michael’s sedan.

That’s one of the things she loves about Jonas’s car, no matter how… well-loved it is; it’s a solid foot or more taller than all the smaller cars on the road. And yes, that means it’s a pain in the ass to climb into, but once she’s in she’s so tall! She likes tall. Jonas is tall. She likes Jonas.

...Oh no, not this again.

He opened that whole can of worms and now… they’re just… flailing around on the asphalt of her heart, or… whatever worms do. The metaphor in her head is very promptly heading just about nowhere. The point is: she likes him. She really really likes him. But there’s A Lot happening-- the fact that she like likes anyone, for one, when she’s more used to friend crushes in the ‘you seem so cool I want to hang out with you’ way and not in the ‘okay yeah, actually, this kissing thing, not too bad, please hold me’ way.

She chews her lips, pulling her knees to her chest and making a noise like a hurnnngh cause she is very A Lot right now and -- hhh.

“We don’t have to go, you know.” Jonas is done with his food, with minimal spillage, and is watching her closely in quick glances.

“Hm? No, no, that’s-- it’s fine. It’s just an island.”

She hasn’t been back since that night. Maybe she should’ve. Maybe she could’ve learned something. Maybe-- and it was a slim-to-none chance, but maybe -- there was a clue there to ending this hopeless cycle.

“If it helps, I’m like 99.9% sure no one wants to fuck with any radios.”

Her smile is grateful but weak, cause now she’s not so sure that that’s it. Maybe they do need a radio. Maybe it’s time she gave the Sunken a piece of her mind, instead of running away and hiding and trying to live her life one 14-month dose at a time.

“And, y’know… um…” Jonas’s words are becoming more uncertain, more mumbled as he continues. “I’ll… be there, I guess. With you. If that even-- I mean, if that makes a difference.”

She’s not expecting the sudden jab of pain in her chest. Because-- well, it does and it doesn’t. For Alex, Jonas was always the one on the island. He was the one who believed her when no one else did, who stuck by her and occasionally scared the shit out of her, and sat by her side when she went God knows where with the ghosts in her head. But… that isn’t how it happened here. In this timeline.

Her breath is held for a half second before she puts her head against her knees and sighs. It can’t hurt. Whatever pain she’s due for, she’s due for it no matter what. So she flops her arm out, onto the cupholders, narrowly avoiding toppling the milkshake and instead just crunching down the now-empty to-go bag. She’s not looking at him. Not even when she flexes her fingers out, expectantly. But she can guess at his expression, when his fingers twine with hers. Soft.

She shifts her head sideways to glance at him when he turns her hand over, and feels her face going flush when he pulls the back of her hand to his lips. He’s watching the road, but he’s-- alright, it’s cheesy to say he’s glowing, but… well. His ears are pinker than the light of the setting sun and she suspects he’s trying to play it cool, but his lips are twitching.

“You are such a sucker.” Not that she isn’t blushing, too. But she can at least attempt to hide her face in the shadow of her knees.

“Shut up. I’m a romantic.”

She’s smiling at him, rolling her eyes. “Oh really. Since when?”

“I’ll have you know, it’s genetic.”

And okay so maybe it’s also a little contagious, cause he’s shooting her a look, and the sun is just at that really annoying height where it’s blasting orange light into everyone’s eyes, but it’s kinda beautiful. He’s kinda beautiful. And he’s very nearly grinning, and Michael’s words pop into her head-- “...he’s been in love with you for… like, ever?”

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even make an attempt at a comeback, especially since she knows it’s true. She just lets whatever’s doing little loop de lous in her stomach keep doing its thing, and she holds his hand and-- yeah, maybe it’s a little sweaty, but it’s July so what could she expect really. She just holds his hand. And they’ll figure the rest out later.

#oxenfree #oxenfree fic #my writing #jonalex #fireworks #half of this chapter is pure sugary bff fluff that goes nowhere #enjoy #alex/jonas

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