#honestly i never really expected it myself that a humanities degree would prove useful in a daily life type of way

[vero-niche]

a fellow english major, really happy to see someone who's proud of their degree <3

you know that "no love, no matter how brief, is wasted" line? i think the same applies for knowledge too - no matter how useless it may seem, knowledge acquired is never in vain.

[fortuositywritings]

Body I Occupy Ch5

Summary: You talk to Vision about possibly sleeping with his gf.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. My girlfriend, my Wanda, wants to have sexual relations with you? Am I hearing you correctly?”

“I would say technically she wants to have sex with you because this is your body,” you defend.

“Yes, but you are in possession of my body. When I last occupied that body, it seemed like she wanted to be nowhere near me but being around you, she’s ready to have relations again. I would say it is you, not me, she desires,” Vision emphasizes. 

“Okay, can you quit saying relations. You make it sound so formal and for some reason it’s weirder than calling it what it is,” you remark. 

“What would you say it is?” Vision asks politely.

“Me sleeping with your girlfriend,” is your crude response.

He clears his throat. “Yes, well. If you are asking permission to use my body to satisfy Wanda’s needs, then I guess I’ll allow it. Do what you must to keep Wanda happy.”

“Uhm, that is not the response I thought you would give me. I’m honestly blanking on what to say.” Vision’s response to the situation has left you dumbfounded. You can’t believe he basically gave you the go ahead to screw his girlfriend and so nonchalantly. 

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Something like ‘Go to hell. I want my body back’ or ‘touch my girlfriend and i’ll touch your face with my fist’. Something to that degree,” you answer candidly.

“Those are very angry responses,” Vision comments. 

“I suppose I thought you’d be more upset,” you throw casually. 

“Why would I be upset? This is great news.”

Vision sounds so confident that you don’t find the need to fight him on it, but you do have questions. “Oh. Okay. So this might be an awkward conversation given the topic, but I feel the need to talk logistics. How do you usually do it?”

Vision goes into more detail than you figured he would and you semi regret asking. You ask him to stop, “Okay! I think I got it!”

“But I haven’t even gotten to -”

“Nope! That’s okay. I’ll figure it out,” you cut him off. “I was only curious because I know that in your nether region, it seems like you’ve got quite the package but no way to open it, if you catch my drift.”

“Ooh, ‘catch my drift’! I know this one. It means if I understand what you are saying. Yes, indeed, I do. I do not have a penis. I was created for a purpose that did not include satisfying others’ sexual needs, therefore, there was no need to add that on,” Vision explains. 

“They had no qualms making it seem like you are packing, that’s for sure,” you mutter. Speaking of sexual needs, you just realized something. “Wait. Is this why I don’t get turned on when Wanda and I are kissing? Like I want to keep kissing her cause it feels nice but there’s no urge I know I’d have if I were in my own body.”

“Precisely. No sex drive, just hard,” he quips.

“Did you just make a dirty joke?” You gape at him. Never did you expect him to make one but here he goes surprising you. It seems he surprised himself too. 

“Was it bad?” he asks, already cringing at himself. 

You chuckle and shake your head. “It was pretty good. I’m mad I didn’t come up with it myself.”

You see him smile through the screen, happy that he made a good joke. You two speak for a few more minutes. You joke and tell him if he really wants the whole human experience that you need your wisdom teeth removed and an appointment with the gynecologist. 

Two weeks later, you’re laughing on the phone when Vision calls, all loopy from actually having gone to get your wisdom teeth removed. 

“Y/N, why won’t they believe me when I say I am an avenger? They laughed at me! I am out there fighting for their safety and they mock me!”

You try to settle your laughter down seeing Vision get upset thinking you are laughing at that too. “Actually, I am out here fighting. You are a regular human right now so please don’t try to prove you can fly or anything. My body is much more fragile than yours,” you remind him. You told him to stay inside and watch some tv after thanking him for doing that for you. 

You hang up and get ready to go out with Wanda. You told her you wanted to take her somewhere but it was a surprise. All week you’ve been trying to distract her. Even though you’ve gotten consent from Vision, you feel icky about it, so you cut Wanda off before things get too far. She’s been respectful about it but you can see her getting impatient. 

You feel guiltier every day about lying to her and not just because she’s some poor girl who is falling for all your lies but because she’s not just some random person to you anymore. You’ve started to actually feel something for Wanda, which you know is wrong, but you can’t help it. 

You like spending time with her. The weeks you’ve spent with the team, of course you’ve hung around the others, but with Wanda, it’s better. You don’t know how to describe it. It’s almost peaceful in a way, which should be the opposite since she is the mind reader you are lying to, but you are simply happy to be around her.

You think it might be a good idea to spend less time with her but when you tried that a few days ago, she got upset, thinking she did something wrong. A confused Wanda is a prying Wanda and you couldn’t have her digging into this, so you forgo that plan. 

Hopefully this date will make up for it and she thinks you were just being weird trying to keep this date a secret and nothing more. Nothing like you lying about who you are. 

You take her to a concert to watch one of her favorite artists perform. You thought this outing over thinking it would be impossible to go out in public without people recognizing you, being in Vision’s body, but it turns out he could disguise himself all along. It’s odd looking like this. You got used to the red skin and bald head, but the blonde white guy appearance gets you to your seats without anyone giving you a second glance, other than of course the people checking you out. 

Wanda is too excited over her favorite band that she doesn’t notice people checking you out at the start, but a few songs in, she catches some women staring at you. You don’t notice her mood shifting because you are enjoying the concert. Wanda introduced you to this artist which you’ve heard of but never actually listened to, but now you basically have all their songs memorized. 

You sing along to their music and the woman staring at you leans over, shouting to Wanda, “Your boyfriend’s hot!”

“I know!” she shouts back before ignoring her and pulling you closer, hugging your arm. You use your free hand to hold hers on your arm. The first notes of Wanda’s favorite song begins to play and you get excited. 

“Baby, they’re going to play your favorite,” you announce, leaning close to her ear so she could hear you. The pet name flows so easily from your lips from having called Wanda it so many times. It brings a smile to her face and she realizes she has no need to be jealous, not when you it’s her favorite song you’ve learned all the lyrics to. 

She sings along and soon after loses herself in the moment with you. She pulls you into a kiss, trying to show you how happy she is right now.

You mostly watch her the rest of the concert and by the time it’s over you’ve come to the realization that you are in love with Wanda. 

You end the night by watching a movie in her room. Unlike all the other times, she’s picked a movie, she doesn’t try anything with you and actually watches it. She giggles at your confused expression thirty minutes into the movie. 

“What? Did you expect something else when I put on a movie?” Although she’s cuddled into you and you can’t see her face that well, you know she’s smirking. She’s teasing but you can do the same.

“No, I’m surprised that you actually picked a good movie,” you joke. She smacks your stomach, but she laughs all the same, before she pulls away from you to adjust herself on the bed so that she could properly see you.

The adoring look on her face as she looks at you, it kills you.

“Thank you for today. It was the best surprise.” She smiles at you before giving you a soft peck on the lips. 

“Anything for you, baby,” you whisper, tucking a strand of face behind her ear. This is such a tender moment that you know you’ll carry in your heart long after this your whole charade is over. 

You give her a kiss that you hope could convey how much you love her. You guess it does because Wanda says the words she honestly never thought she would be able to say to Vision again. “I love you.”

“I-uh,” you sputter. You knew this would come at some point but you hoped you would never hear Wanda say those three words to you. It makes it so much harder not to say them back, because you can’t say them back. You’ve never said those words to anyone and you sure as hell couldn’t say them to her when you weren’t even you, and you know you’re going to regret this but you say, “I’m so glad.”

______________________________________________

Long overdue. My bad. Next chapter might be the last. Maybe. I never know.

Did not proofread. Sorry about the mistakes.

Taglist: @diaryoflife @severepeanutartisanhands @yellowvxbes @blackwow34 @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @romanoffomixam @anxietyisgreat

[bi-kisses]

I was going through your discourse shortcut and noticed an issue. In your trans brain section, all the links are about whether sexed brains exist, whether trans brains are different than their natal sex, but your accompanying paragraph is all about proprioception. it's the jump i honestly struggle with most regarding all this. my opinion as of yet isn't really decided. i've noticed all sides make really big assumptions. in this case, it's that the differences in the brain then translate to a dysphoric feeling that can only be solved through transition. but that assumes 1. the differences in the brain are the reasons dysphoria developed rather than dysphoria causing those differences to develop 2. those differences affecting proprioception, despite rarely being in the part of the brain associated with that 3. that these are permanent (that kind of goes with #1— the brain changes w depression, 4 example) 4. that all people with this type of brain develop trans identity and seek medical transition (the sample is taken from trans people rather than from people with ___ brain type, it's a self fulfilling sample) 5. i've also just noticed studies tend to poorly control for hrt and sexuality 6. that all people with this brain type will benefit from transition

i was wondering your reasoning behind making those assumptions because i think they're certainly not insignificant and i think it's what i struggle with most when weighing the degree of this. because those questions all have a great impact on the permanence and absoluteness of this, which is the main thing you (general) use this as evidence of in the first place.

i believe sex affects the brains and all that, that's not what this is about. it's more about the assumptions people interpreting the studies and those doing the studies are making, as well as the methods and whether the sampling is truly representative. i know it's impossible to have a perfect study— i have all these questions because i'm going into a non human biology field and they just drill us on tearing apart this kind of thing all the time, no matter how much evidence there is (like climate change lol).

I'll talk about these as the numbered list followed by the other points, these are all good questions!

1. If the dysphoria causes the differences, I'd have to wonder what causes the dysphoria. In either case, the fact of the matter is that people with gender dysphoria have atypical neurology, and thats important because it shows there is a biological basis to what they're experiencing. We don't have (or really need) all the answers in that case and I've wondered the same myself a number of times.

2. This one is interesting because proprioception isn't centralized to one area of the brain, and mostly has to do with electrical nerve communications. I actually don't posit that the studies in the trans brain section have much to do with that part of the brain, they're more showing that there is a hormonally-influenced difference with the brain as a whole with or without HRT (I'll talk more about that later)

3. I think the kicker here for me is we've observed these neurological traits in young adults, middle aged trans people, and in the brains of deceased trans people. Take that how you will.

4. Oh I agree with you here, that if we only examine people who are trans and not those who solely have gender dysphoria, we haven't isolated gender dysphoria as a factor. But several studies linked in the spreadsheet I reference actually are gender dysphoria-specific and don't require any level of trans identification; just the dysphoria diagnosis. That being said, there are people who have gender dysphoria but choose not to transition for whatever reason and technically speaking (from a medical standpoint) they're trans as they possess the necessary attributes of transsexualism, but socially they aren't and that's their business. Kind of an aside there.

5. Some do, yes, but again I have posts that actually point to specific studies which do control for those things and mirror results of the more ambiguously-controlled ones.

6. See above, I don't think using the word "benefit" alone is enough to explain why transition is often the best method of treating GD. It can be beneficial to the dysphoria, but not the person as a whole due to a slew of other factors. And sometimes the fact that the changes are artificial don't help with the dysphoria in the first place. So I wouldn't say it's always the best option or always beneficial (I don't think I've ever said that but it is a common assumption)

So now on to why I harp on about proprioception so much; it's sort of explained in the shortcut, but I'll clarify specifically.

A big thing with trans people is phantom limb syndrome. Trans women not experiencing it after vaginoplasty, trans men experiencing it before phalloplasty, as the two biggest examples. We know for a fact that the brain often wires itself to expect certain characteristics, as shown with born-amputees still feeling PLS even though they never possessed the limb in the first place. It's a logical conclusion, with this information, that the reason one would feel at odds with their body has to do with the part of their mind that actually has to work with the layout of said body.

I won't lie and say I can prove this with a bunch of studies or anything, but I do believe this because it's what I've been told by neurologists (I've spoken to the people who run trans research personally in the past) and also what they themselves conclude with the information we're given.

I don't personally think it's a huge stretch but I understand the hesitance to share my confidence and I won't criticise or judge you for that.

So why use those studies if I don't even really think they play a role in gender dysphoria, you may wonder, and the truth is I don't really find that it matters. Whether or not we know the how and the why, we do know that for decades and decades trans men and women have consistently had these traits, with or without HRT and/or full transition. My resources more prove that there's no denying the biological nature of being trans, that to pretend it's some new phenomenon coming from ROGD or buying into dysmorphia too hard is ignorant at best. All the proprioceptive stuff is sort of the most likely theory we have but it's not the be-all-end-all for what makes someone trans. I'm excited to see what studies in the future reveal about all this, and as those who love science well know, happy to be proven wrong should it be the case.

[morwensteelsheen]

I’m starting grad school this autumn and honestly I’m getting nervous. Like yes I am v excited about the whole prospect overall and I do miss being a student but am intimidated by 3 hr long seminars and thesis writing and massive amounts of reading… everyone keeps saying it’s gonna be very different from undergrad so okay, but how specifically? Is it the large amounts of reading? I already had insane amounts of reading (humanities degree hurrah) especially in my last two years but could you expound on your own experience and how you take notes/read quickly/summarize or just how to deal with first time grad students?

Oh, yeah for sure! A necessary disclaimer here is that I'm at a certain poncy English institution that is noted for being very bad at communicating with its students and very bad at treating its postgrad students like human beings, so a lot of these strategies I've picked up will be overkill for anyone who has the good sense to go somewhere not profoundly evil lol.

So I'll just preface this by saying that I am a very poor student in terms of doing what you're supposed to. I'm very bad at taking notes, I never learned how to do it properly, and I really, really struggle with reading dense literature. That said, I'm probably (hopefully?) going to get through this dumb degree just fine. Also — my programme is a research MPhil, not taught, so it's a teensy bit more airy-fairy in terms of structure. I had two classes in Michaelmas term, both were once a week for two hours each; two in Lent, one was two hours weekly, the other two hours biweekly; and no classes at all in Easter. I also have no exam component, I was/am assessed entirely on three essays (accounting for 30% of my overall mark) and my dissertation (the remaining 70%), which is, I think, a little different to how some other programmes are. I think even some of the other MPhils here are more strenuous than that, like Econ and Soc Hist is like 100% dissertation? Anyways, not super important, but knowing what you're getting marked on is important. I dedicated considerably less time than I did in undergrad to perfecting my coursework essays because they just don't hold as much weight now. The difference between a 68 and a 70 just wasn't worth the fuss for me, which helped keep me sane-ish.

The best advice anyone ever gave me was that, whereas an undergrad degree can kind of take over your life without it becoming a problem, you need to treat grad school like a job. That's not because it's more 'serious' or whatever, but because if you don't set a really strict schedule and keep to it, you'll burn yourself out and generally make your life miserable. Before I went back on my ADD meds at the end of Michaelmas term, I sat myself down at my desk and worked from 11sh to 1800ish every day. Now that I'm medicated, I do like 9:30-10ish to 1800-1900 (except for now that I'm crunching on my diss, where, because of my piss-poor time management skills I'm stuck doing, like, 9:30-22:30-23:00). If you do M-F 9-5, you'll be getting through an enormous amount of work and leaving yourself loads of time to still be a human being on the edges. That'll be the difference between becoming a postgrad zombie and a person who did postgrad. I am a postgrad zombie. You do not want to be like me.

The 'work' element of your days can really vary. It's not like I was actually consistently reading for all that time — my brain would have literally melted right out of my ears — but it was about setting the routine and the expectation of dedicating a certain, consistent and routinized period of time for focusing on the degree work every day. My attention span, even when I'm medicated, is garbage, so I would usually read for two or three hours, then either work on the more practical elements of essay planning, answer emails, or plot out the early stages of my research.

In the first term/semester/whatever, lots of people who are planning on going right into a PhD take the time to set up their applications and proposals. I fully intended on doing a PhD right after the MPhil, but the funding as an international student trying to deal with the pandemic proved super problematic, and I realised that the toll it was taking on my mental health was just so not worth it, so I've chosen to postpone a few years. You'll feel a big ol' amount of pressure to go into a PhD during your first time. Unless you're super committed to doing it, just try and tune it out as much as you can. There's absolutely nothing wrong with taking a year (or two, or three, or ten) out, especially given the insane conditions we're all operating under right now.

I'll be honest with you, I was a phenomenally lazy undergrad. It was only by the grace of god and being a hard-headed Marxist that I managed to pull out a first at the eleventh hour. So the difference between UG and PG has been quite stark for me. I've actually had to do the reading this year, not just because they're more specialised and relevant to my research or whatever, but because, unlike in UG, the people in the programme are here because they're genuinely interested (and not because it's an economic necessity) and they don't want to waste their time listening to people who haven't done the reading.

I am also a really bad reader. Maybe it's partially the ADD + dyslexia, but mostly it's because I just haven't practiced it and never put in the requisite effort to learn how to do it properly. My two big pointers here are learning how to skim, and learning how to prioritise your reading.

This OpenU primer on skimming is a bit condescending in its simplicity, but it gets the point across well. You're going to want to skim oh, say, 90% of the reading you're assigned. This is not me encouraging you to be lazy, it's me being honest. Not every word of every published article or book is worth reading. The vast majority of them aren't. That doesn't mean the things that those texts are arguing for aren't worth reading, it just means that every stupid rhetorical flourish included by bored academics hoping for job security and/or funding and/or awards isn't worth your precious and scarce time. Make sure you get the main thrust of each text, make sure you pull out and note down one or two case studies and move right the hell on. There will be some authors whose writing will be excellent, and who you will want to read all of. Everything else gets skimmed.

Prioritisation is the other big thing. You're going to have shitty weeks, you're probably going to have lots of them. First off, you're going to need to forgive yourself for those now — everybody has them, yes, even the people who graduated with distinctions and go on to get lovely £100,000 AHRC scholarships. Acknowledge that there will be horrible weeks, accept it now, and then strategise for how to get ahead of them. My personal strategy is to plan out what I'm trying to get out of each course I take, and then focus only on the readings that relate to that topic.

I took a course in Lent term that dealt with race and empire in Britain between 1607 and 1900; I'm a researcher of the Scottish far left from 1968-present, so the overlap wasn't significant. But I decided from the very first day of the course that I was there to get a better grasp about the racial theories of capitalism and the role of racial othering in Britain's subjugation of Ireland. Those things are helpful to me because white supremacist capitalism comes up hourly in my work on the far left, and because the relationship of the Scottish far left to Ireland is extremely important to its self definition. On weeks when I couldn't handle anything else, I just read the texts related to that. And it was fine, I did fine, I got my stupid 2:1 on the final essay, and I came out of it not too burnt out to work on my dissertation.

Here is where I encourage you to learn from my mistakes: get yourself a decent group of people who you can have in depth conversations about the material with. I was an asshole who decided I didn't need to do that with any posh C*mbr*dge twats, and I have now condemned myself to babbling incomprehensible nonsense at my partner because I don't have anyone on my course to work through my ideas with. These degrees are best experienced when they're experienced socially. In recent years (accelerated by the pandemic, ofc), universities have de-emphasised the social component of postgrad work, largely to do with stupid, long-winded stuff related to postgrad union organising etc. It's a real shame because postgrads end up feeling quite socially isolated, and because they're not having these fun and challenging conversations, their work actually suffers in the long term. This is, and I cannot stress this enough, the biggest departure from undergrad. Even the 'weak links' or whatever judgemental nonsense are there because they want to be. That is going to be your biggest asset. Talk, talk, talk. Listen, listen, listen. Offer to proofread people's papers so you get a sense of how people are thinking about things, what sort of style they're writing in, what sources they're referring to. Be a sponge and a copycat (but don't get done for plagiarism, copy like this.) Also: ask questions that seem dumb. For each of your classes, ask your tutors/lecturers who they think the most important names in their discipline are. It sounds silly, but it's really helpful to know the intellectual landscape you're dealing with, and it means you know whose work you can go running to if you get lost or tangled up during essay or dissertation writing!

You should also be really honest about everything — another piece of advice that I didn't follow and am now suffering for. The people on your courses and in your cohort are there for the same reasons as you, have more or less the same qualifications as you, and are probably going to have a lot of the same questions and insecurities as you. If you hear an unfamiliar term being used in a seminar, just speak up and ask about it, because there're going to be loads of other people wondering too. But you should also cultivate quite a transparent relationship with your supervisor. I was really cagey and guarded with mine because my hella imposter syndrome told me she was gonna throw my ass out of the programme if I admitted to my problems. Turns out no, she wouldn't, and that actually she's been a super good advocate for me. If you feel your motivation slipping or if you feel like you're facing challenges you could do with a little extra support on, go right to your supervisor. Not only is that what they're there to do, they've also done this exact experience before and are going to be way more sympathetic and aware of the realities of it than, say, the uni counselling service or whatever.

Yeah so I gotta circle back to the notes thing... I really do not take notes. It's my worst habit. Here's an example of the notes I took for my most recent meeting with my supervisor (revising a chapter draft).

No sane person would ever look at these and think this is a system worth replicating lol. But the reason they work for me is because I also record (with permission) absolutely everything. My mobile is like 90% audio recordings of meetings and seminars lol. So these notes aren't 'good' notes, but they're effective for recalling major points in the audio recording so I can listen to what was said when I need to.

Sorry none of this is remotely organised because it's like 2330 here and my brain is so soft and mushy. I'm literally just writing things as I remember them.

Right, so: theory is a big thing. Lots of people cheap out on this and it's to their own detriment. You say you're doing humanities, and tbh, most of the theory involved on the humanities side of the bridge is interdisciplinary anyways, so I'm just gonna give you some recommendations. The big thing is to read these things and try to apply them to what you're writing about. This sounds so fucking condescending but getting, like, one or two good theoretical frameworks in your papers will actually put you leaps and bounds beyond the students around you and really improve your research when the time comes. Also: don't read any of these recommendations without first watching, like an intro youtube video or listening to a podcast. The purists will tell you that's the wrong way to do it, but I am a lazy person and lazy people always find the efficient ways to do things, so I will tell the purists to go right to hell.

Check out these impenetrable motherfuckers (just one or two will take your work from great to excellent, so don't feel obliged to dig into them all):

Karl Marx and Fredrich Engels (I'm not just pushing my politics, but also, I totally am) — don't fucking read Capital unless you're committed to it. Oh my god don't put yourself through that unless you really have to. Try, like, the 18th Brumaire of Louis Napoleon for the fun quotes, and Engels on the family.

Frantz Fanon — Wretched of the Earth. Black Skin White Masks also good, slightly more impossible to read

Benedict Anderson — Imagined Communities. It's about nationalism, but you will be surprised at how applicable it is to... so many other topics

Judith Butler — she really sucks to read. I love her. But she sucks to read. If you do manage to read her though, your profs will love you because like 90% of the people who say they've read her are lying

Bourdieu — Distinction is good for a lot of things, but especially for introducing the idea of social and cultural capital. There's basically no humanities sub-discipline that can't run for miles on that alone.

Crenshaw — the genesis of intersectionality. But, like, actually read her, not the ingrates who came after her and defanged intersectionality into, like, rainbow bombs dropped over Gaza.

The other thing is that you should read for fun. My programme director was absolutely insistent that we all continue to read for pleasure while we did this degree, not just because it's good for destressing, but because keeping your cultural horizons open actually makes your writing better and more interesting. I literally read LOTR for the first time in, like February, and the difference in my writing and thinking from before and after is tangible, because not only did it give me something fun to think about when I was getting stressy, but it also opened up lots of fun avenues for thought that weren't there before. I read LOTR and wanted to find out more about English Catholics in WWI, and lo and behold something I read about it totally changed how I did my dissertation work. Or, like, a girl on my course who read the Odyssey over Christmas Break and then started asking loads of questions about the role of narrative creation in the archival material she was using. It was seriously such a good edict from our director.

Also, oh my god, if you do nothing else, please take this bit seriously: forgive yourself for the bad days. The pressure in postgrad is fucking unreal. Nobody, nobody is operating at 100% 100% of the time. If you aim for 60% for 80% of the time and only actually achieve 40% for 60% of the time, you will still be doing really fucking well. Don't beat yourself up unnecessarily. Don't make yourself feel bad because you're not churning out publishable material every single day. Some days you just need to lie on the couch, order takeout, and watch 12 hours of Jeopardy or whatever, and I promise you that that is a good and worthwhile thing to do. You don't learn and grow without rest, so forgive yourself for the moments and days of unplanned rest, and forgive yourself for when you don't score as highly as you want to, and forgive yourself when you say stupid things in class or don't do all of (or any of) the class reading.

Uhhhh I think I'm starting to lose the plot a bit now. Honestly, just ping me whatever questions you have and I'm happy to answer them. There's a chance I'll be slower to respond over the next few days because my dissertation is due in a week (holy fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) but I will definitely respond. And honestly, no question is too dumb lol. I wish I'd been able to ask someone about things like what citation management software is best or how to set up a desk for maximum efficiency or whatever, but I was a scaredy-cat about it and didn't. So yeah, ask away and I will totally answer.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

“Doctor?” Istina was in their office, reclined on the couch with a book in front of her. “Is guilt a societal construct, in your opinion, or an intrinsic part of the human experience?”

“Hmm. You’re asking if everyone is born with the idea of guilt, or if it needs to be learned?”

She marked her place and nodded. “Exactly.”

“I think there are two components to it.” They had the answer as quickly as the question’s nature was confirmed. “The idea of personal responsibility for something you did is something we’re all born with, but how we respond to that feeling, and to what degree it afflicts us, is certainly learned behavior.”

“I see. And if you’re the only person who knows your guilt in a particular regard, does that make it easier to bear, or harder?”

The Doctor nodded sagely. “I’m not sure it’s so clear-cut. For someone who makes a mistake in the open, with a lot of witnesses, they know they face others’ judgment, and while that can help them prepare for it, it likely leads them to wanting to prove themselves valuable, not just to those whom they’ve wronged, but to themselves as well. However, if the event you feel guilty about was private, you bear three burdens - the secret of that occurrence, the knowledge that it was your action and your action alone with no chance of blaming another, and the constant question of whether you really were the only witness, or is there someone else who knows and is simply waiting to use this knowledge against you in some way...Different people will be able to handle one or the other more easily, but honestly? I think the harder one is always the one you have to deal with, meaning the only way to know for sure is if you feel guilty on both levels.”

“...Do you think about this often?” She’d expected an answer, but not quite one that was so detailed.

“I don’t know, Anna.” Their mask broke open, smiling at her with jagged, glassy black teeth. “Do you?”

That was enough to wake her up.

-- -- --

Rosa, sitting in as the Doctor’s assistant for the day, greeted Istina as she came into the office. “Good morning, Anna.”

“I’d prefer you-” She was planning to object to being called ‘Anna’ in the Doctor’s presence, but she realized they weren’t there yet. “Good morning, Natalya...Can I talk to you about something before the Doctor arrives?”

“Something you can’t discuss with them? Of course, but I have to ask: why does it need to be before they arrive?”

The advisor sighed. “Because it involves a dream they were in - or rather, a nightmare they were in - and I don’t want them to know I had it. If I wasn’t so bothered by the discussion we had in that dream, I wouldn’t be bringing it up.”

“We all have our dark dreams, Istina.” Rosa locked her computer and focused on her fellow Chernobog escapee. “Alright, you have my fullest attention. What’s troubling you?”

“Is...Do you think guilt is something we learn, or something we’re born with?”

The heiress cocked her head. “The feeling of being guilty, or the idea of being responsible for our own actions?”

“Eh?” Istina blinked. “The former.”

“Which is the latter, then?”

She thought that was rather obvious. “Responsibility for our actions is something we naturally feel.”

“Then why do we try so hard to make others responsible for our own failings?” Rosa leaned forward, resting her chest against the desk. “If personal responsibility was innate to our being, I would expect we would more readily own up to our mistakes. As that concept of personal responsibility is necessary to feel guilt, I would argue that both are learned.”

“I...I’d never considered that perspective.” Not that the advisor necessarily agreed with it, but it was a new idea.

She shrugged. “I’m glad I could expand your horizons. It’s a rare thing for us to talk nowadays...Do you miss our talks, Anna?”

“They’re too tied together with the rest of Peterheim for me to miss in truth,” Istina replied, “and if I remember correctly, they often left both of us rather angry at each other, but perhaps we should make more of a habit of polite discourse. Do you miss being as close to us as we were then, Natalya?”

“...I would never tell Sonya this, but yes. Almost daily.”

The advisor stood up from the couch and walked past the desk to find something to read. “You know where to find us, don’t you?”

“I do, but...” Rosa sighed. “I won’t find the same people there. You’re all moving on, but I’m stuck in the past, weighed down by my fear of future decisions and my guilt over my failure as a leader and enabler of crimes I could never have imagined yet witnessed firsthand.”

“...I call myself ‘truth,’ but I lie to everyone by omission every day.”

That jolted the heiress out of her introspection. “Pardon?”

“Beyond the observation that, whatever our outward appearance to you, none of the four of us are okay by any stretch of one’s imagination,” Istina continued, “which indicates a measure of falsehood by itself, I...I watched her fall, Natalya.”

“I knew that.”

Her eyes burst open. “You did?”

“You were the one who told us what happened, no?” Rosa nodded. “I knew you had a reason for it, however, and I saw no reason to push you to admit it. You’re a person of integrity, Istina; I knew you would need to face the truth for the sake of your conscience eventually.”

“...And if I never told anyone?”

She shrugged. “Then I would still believe what I just told you.”

“But it would be inherently false!” Istina groaned. “Knowing you thought I was a good person would only make it harder to admit I was guilty.”

“I never said you were a good person.”

The advisor sank to the ground. “But a person of integrity is a good person...”

“True.” Rosa followed her to the floor, slipping out of her chair to do so. “And now that you’ve admitted that you watched her fall but couldn’t save her, I can tell you without any qualms that you’re a good person.”

“I don’t know that I couldn’t save her, Natalya...I didn’t even try.”

She pulled her close for a seated hug. “That doesn’t change what I said.”

“...You said we all have dark dreams, correct?” Istina, arms likewise around Rosa, head buried somewhere between her neck and chest, asked in a muffled whisper. “What do you dream about?”

“I see the faces of the children my fellows murdered to try and uphold their once higher standard of living. I see those same fellows’ faces burning as the fire consumed them, and I see the scowls on your faces when I first came to your group...I still don’t understand why you accepted me, in the end.”

The advisor’s arms tightened around her. “Because I knew there was still good in you.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “I wonder how long it will take for me to find i-” As she was saying those words, however, she felt a sudden surge of that very conviction. “Ah...Of course.” 

“You have to be good to have heard me out and comfort me.”

Rosa kissed the top of Istina’s head. “Then for you, Anna, I will try to hold onto this knowledge...Do you mind if I hold onto you, as well?”

“Not in the slightest.” She was already quite comfortable, despite the awkward position they’d set themselves in. “Physical displays of affection aren’t my first love language...but I won’t mind if you never let go.”

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 2

Notes: Is this only gonna get 3 notes and 0 reblogs? Yes. Do I give a fuck? nope!

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: None I can think of.

Song: Warm With You - Hayden Calnin

Part 1

Spencer was gone by morning. He had a plane to catch, so you understood. A part of you wished you had the chance to say a real, verbal goodbye, but your conscious knew a silent departure was for the better. Watching the only man you’ve had a mental, emotional, and physical connection with walk out the door would be plain cruel. It was better for him to disappear without a trace.

Only… it wasn’t without a trace. 

On the pillow Spencer hardly slept on was a note.

‘702-555-0103           Keep in touch. 

                 -Spencer.’

You were so, so screwed.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, you were still practically vibrating. The more you thought about it, the higher your hopes grew. You started thinking of alternate scenarios, a world where you and Spencer were in love and alone. A world where state lines and job interferences didn’t exist. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized that a world like that could be true.

State lines exist. High-demand jobs exist. Families exist. No matter how badly you wanted it to be true, a single man couldn’t make all those things go away. And yet, you pulled out your phone and added his number to your contact list. Because when it came to Spencer Reid, you went against your better judgement. You ignored your instincts. You broke your own rules. Really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your fantasy.

You walked to the door and looked through the peephole. With a slight frown, you pulled away and opened the door.

“Agent Hotchner,” you said in surprise.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted. Despite it being 7:30 in the morning, he was wearing a suit. You wondered if he ever got tired of doing so.

“How do you know where I live?” You asked.

“Sheriff Longman,” he answered simply. “May I come in?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, stepping aside so he could enter. You gestured to the small table in the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water..?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

You brewed a pot while you were showering, so thankfully, it sat on the hotplate, full and ready to be poured. You took two mugs from the cupboard, put a splash of milk in one, and let only coffee fill the other. You took a seat across from Hotch, pushing the mug of black coffee towards him.

“Thank you,” he said, then observed the hot beverage. “What makes you think I take my coffee black?”

“You’re a man of authority, and judging by your composure, you have been for awhile,” you said. “The lines on your face and bags under your eyes suggest you don’t get much sleep, so considering this and your demanding career, you drink coffee to function. You got used to the taste, eventually.”

You raised your own mug to your lips, then laughed nervously in realization. “Sorry. After helping with the case, my filter came off.”

“How long have you been profiling?” Hotch asked.

“Since before I knew its name,” you answered. “My dad always said ‘people watching’ was my hobby. Most people just think I’m good at spotting liars.”

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I’ve been profiling for as long as I can remember. I like studying people’s habits, learning the way they think. Humans fascinate me.” You paused. “Why are you here, exactly?”

Hotch smiled briefly, probably at how long it took you to ask. “You weren’t at the station for very long yesterday.”

“I talked to Caleb while you guys were arresting Beck,” you explained. “We talked. By the time you got back, I knew what I needed to know.”

“Which is?”

“I messed up the profile.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “How so?”

“Caleb Chasing made mistakes when it came to his marriage, but he’s not a bad man. He told me it was his fault they ever got divorced, and that Stephanie didn’t win full custody, he gave it to her.”

“Really?” You nodded, sipping your drink. “It wasn’t court-ordered, but Caleb took the kids every other weekend. Stephanie agreed to that. I totally misread the situation.”

“You didn’t,” Hotch disagreed. “Your profile was spot on.”

You frowned. “How?”

“Stephanie was his type, and her divorce with Caleb was the stressor.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Austin didn’t kill because he was angry with Stephanie: he was angry with Caleb,” Hotch explained. “His love for Stephanie didn’t go away after she married, but his anger towards Caleb amplified.”

“He loved her so much that he didn’t kill Caleb,” you whispered in realization. “He wanted to hurt Caleb, but he knew it would hurt her, so he refrained.” Hotch nodded. 

“But why not just kill Caleb?” you said.

“Like you said, hurting Caleb would hurt Stephanie. Invert that logic.”

“The women were surrogates for Stephanie, and when he was done with them, he used them against Caleb.”

“Your profile was right,” Hotch repeated. “We brought in the wrong man, yes, but without Caleb, we never would have found Beck. We wouldn’t have found Caleb without your profile.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you ceded. You paused. “Did he ever mention why he washed and folded the clothes?” “He thought he was doing Stephanie justice,” Hotch answered. “He made his victims take off their clothes before he raped them, and after killing them, he wanted to touch the body as little as possible. That’s why he didn’t redress them.”

“So there was no blood on their clothes,” you thought aloud. “Beck just genuinely thought he was doing them a service.”

Hotch nodded. You merely shuddered in response. 

“Have you ever considered becoming a Behavioral Analyst?” Hotch proceeded to ask.

You looked up in surprise. “That’s... not really an option around here,” you replied.

“You could relocate,” Hotch said. “You served in the Army, which means you could attend classes virtually anywhere, and they would be paid for.” 

“Are you offering me a job, Agent Hotchner?” You asked, confused.

“I can’t promise anything, but considering your background and natural abilities, I think it’d be fairly easy to find an opening for you in the BAU,” Hotch told you. “You proved yourself to everyone on my team, including myself. All you would need is the credentials. ...That is, if you’re interested.”

You bit your lip, considering your options.

Hotch wasn’t offering you anything concrete, but damn if he wasn’t offering you something. You hardly knew the man, yet something told you it wasn’t everyday that he told someone they’d make a good profiler, especially when said person isn’t even in law enforcement. Not to mention, he was absolutely right — your service in the Army covered the tuition of practically any school you could dream of going to. You could get your degree in New York, or California, or DC.

You could be within a few miles of Spencer, rather than a few hundred. 

When it came down to it, though, you didn’t live in a fairytale. Similar to your ‘relationship’ with Spencer, conflicts arose. You already had a job, and you loved it. Colorado, though not your favorite place to live, was home, and it wasn’t done with you yet. Life wasn’t as easy as moving across the country to pursue a career while courting a man who might not even be interested in you.

“I can’t leave,” you said quietly. “My life is here.” 

Hotch didn’t seem to react; over the years, he mastered his poker face.

“It’s a lot to think about,” Hotch sympathized, “and I don’t expect an immediate answer. In fact, I don’t need an answer at all. All I ask is that you consider.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card. “If you need anything, give me a call.”

Two phone numbers from two men in the span of two days. It seemed as though your bad luck charm was officially broken. 

It took you 3 months to call Spencer. It wasn’t that you forgot, or met someone else — he crossed your mind everyday. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him.

For a long time, you tried convincing yourself that he didn’t really care. You decided he gave you his number out of charity, or because he didn’t want to be a guy who has meaningless sex. It took you a long time to consider the fact that he might actually like you, might actually want to spend time with you. That he might want to see you again as desperately as you wanted to see him.

Once you came to this conclusion, an opportunity fell in your lap.

You decided to finally call Spencer right before your shift started. Other people probably considered it to be the worst possible time, but you thought through your plan for days before the execution. Your work kept you busy, which meant you wouldn’t have time to think about your boy troubles. You’d be too busy saving lives. Also, your shift was at night, so by the time you got home, you’d be too exhausted to let your worries keep you up. It seemed like a win-win situation.

When everyone left the locker room, you sat down on the bench with a nervous breath. Your stomach was in knots and it got harder to breathe with each passing second. Biting the bullet, you went to your contact list, scrolled down to the “S” section, and dialed the first name you read.

After 3 rings, the call went to voicemail. Though this partially worried you, it mostly made you feel relieved. It would be so much easier talking to his answering machine.

‘This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now, so please, leave a message,’  a recording of his voice said.

It wasn’t a fake number. You sighed, endlessly grateful.

“Hi, Spencer,” you said, sounding like you had just run a marathon. You cleared your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “This is Y/N, the paramedic from Colorado,” you said. “I was invited to this wedding in Vegas, and I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one. It’s over the weekend, so you should be back to work by Monday.” 

You laughed nervously. “I honestly don’t know if you even remember me. If you don’t, or if you don’t want to go, please ignore this message. If you do remember me, and you do want to go, feel free to text me or give me a call back. That’s it, I guess. Goodbye, Dr. Reid.”

The butterflies in your stomach dispersed by the time you hung up. You ran your hands through your hair, feeling both triumphant and anxious. You pushed the latter emotion to the side. The worst part was over. The ball was in his court. 

_____________________

Your shift was the longest you’d had in a while. You resuscitated a middle-aged man, tended to to the bloody aftermath of a bar fight, and delivered a baby, all within the span of your 12-hour shift. Normally, your days were much, much slower. The silver lining was that you didn’t have a second to spare, which meant  you went half a day without thinking of Spencer and the voicemail you left for him. That aspect of your plan worked out pretty well.

Once you got home, you tossed your coat onto the table and dropped your bag to the floor. You were exhausted. Despite the change of clothes you went through in the middle of the night, you still smelled like blood and other various bodily fluids. Oh, the glamour of working in the medical field. 

Not wanting to bring the grime of your job into your bed, you hopped into the shower. You were in and out quick, deciding against washing your hair. You only wanted to clean up so you could get some sleep.

Once you were out of the bathroom, you walked back into your bedroom. You checked your phone, which you left on the nightstand. You had one text left unread.

‘Spencer: which weekend?’

So much for sleeping.

_____________________

Over the next month, you and Spencer worked out the details. The wedding was a great excuse, but Spencer actually proposed the idea of spending more time together, which may or may not have made you squeal. Thankfully, you were alone when you read the text, so only you had to live with the embarrassment.

The wedding was on Saturday. The flight he ended up scheduling was for Wednesday. He’d spend the night at your apartment, and on Thursday morning, the two of you would start a 7+ hour road trip to Nevada.

You enjoyed road trips already, so the idea of spending that time with Spencer seemed almost too good to be true. Plus, the fact that two nights would be spent at a hotel was no accident. You wanted to drag those 7 hours out for as long as possible, and Spencer didn’t seem too opposed to the idea. 

If everything went according to plan, the two of you would be back in Colorado by Monday, and his returning flight was scheduled for Tuesday morning. Almost an entire week of nothing but him. You could only hope he was as excited as you were.

Though it seemed like a fantasy, Wednesday did come. You stood in the airport, holding a sign that read “Dr. Spencer Reid”. Mostly, it was a joke, but a part of you thought he may have forgotten your face.

Eventually, you saw a tall, gangly brunette with glasses make his way down the escalator. Your face broke into a smile as you lifted the sign above your head. You managed to catch Spencer’s attention. He broke into a grin. 

Once he made his way through the crowd, Spencer simply stood in front of you for a moment. He looked your frame up and down, taking in every inch of beauty he saw. His eyes met yours.

“Hi,” he said quietly, smiling.

“Hello,” you responded. 

The two of you chuckled and hugged each other.

He was quite a bit taller than you, so moments after wrapping your arms around him, you felt his chin settle onto your shoulder. When he adjusted, you felt his lips against your neck. You held him tighter.

“You look… amazing,” he said breathlessly, pulling away. He kept his hands on your arms.

Your face was beginning to hurt because of how much you were smiling. “Thank you. So do you.”

You reached your hand up, carding your fingers through his hair. “You cut your hair.”

“You like it?” He asked. There was a small, almost microscopic nervous edge in his voice.

“I like you,” you said simply.

That earned you a kiss.

To anyone passing by, the two of you looked like any average couple: happy to be reunited, and happy to be in love. Oh, how you wished it was that simple.

You weren’t sure Spencer was in love. You weren’t sure you were in love, if you were completely honest. All you knew was that around him, the world disappeared, at least for a little while. No one’s made you feel that way in your life, not even before you joined the Army. 

You saw some things overseas, some things you wanted desperately to forget. You thought resigning and returning home would fix that, make you forget. All it seemed to do so far, though, was distract you with other things you also didn’t want to think about. It seemed like, no matter how hard you tried, you could no longer see in color. Since the Army, since your father… you saw the world in black and white.

Not around him, though. Around him, there was more color than you could fathom. Instead of trying to figure out why, you kissed him. You kissed him, and for the life of you, you didn’t want to stop. 

By Thursday evening, the two of you had been on the road for almost 4 ½ hours. You had done most of the driving, but you didn’t mind. With Spencer in the passenger seat, you could be occupied for days.

All you had to do was ask about a highway or a structure you passed, and for the next 15 minutes, Spencer would tell stories. You were sure some people found it annoying — he stopped his rants several times to see if you were still interested. That broke your heart a little. You understood that his job could have intense moments where only basic information is needed, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the only time people cut him off. It made you sad to think he got shot down when talking about the things he loved.

“Are you sure I’m not talking too much?” Spencer asked for the millionth time.

You smiled. Your window was open, so your hair was blown back and your arm rested on the ledge. “I’m sure,” you promised. “Have you ever been to Vegas?”

“Vegas is where I grew up.”

“Wow, really?” you said in surprise. You’d never thought to ask. “You’ll have to show me around, then. I've never been.”

“You’ll fit in,” he assured. A brief silence washed over the car. “Did you grow up in Colorado?”

“Yeah, I did,” you nodded. “I grew up in Grand Junction, actually.”

“You never left?”

“Except for when I served,” you confirmed.

“How did that happen?” Spencer asked. “I mean, was joining the Army something you always wanted to do?”

You stiffened at the question. In an attempt to relax, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

You smiled sadly. “No, it’s… it’s okay. I just… I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone why.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Spencer assured. 

You considered for a moment. “I do,” you eventually said, tapping your thumb against the steering wheel. “I want to tell you.”

He didn’t say anything; he simply waited for you to start.

“Do you remember the bar?” you asked, mostly rhetorically. “How you sat next to me, asked me why I profiled Derek instead of you?”

“I remember.”

“Do you remember when I said I have trust issues because my father wronged me?” You asked, this time, quieter.

You saw him nod in your peripheral vision. 

“That wasn’t exactly true,” you said. “I mean, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full story. You see, my dad didn’t wrong me so much as he… died.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shrugged, wishing it was enough to brush off the feeling. “I was 16. Losing him made me lose myself for awhile, you know? He was there one second, gone the next, and I had to live with it. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of Colorado, start fresh. The Army did that for me. Plus, I got to help people. It seemed like a win-win situation.” 

“You made the best of a bad situation,” Spencer said. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“I did get to help people,” you thought vocally. “That part was nice. The PTSD… not as nice.” 

Spencer laughed sadly. “It never is.”

You decided to leave it at that.

The wedding was the part of your vacation you least looked forward to. However, you had to admit: you and Spencer looked incredible. You wore a short navy dress, he rented a matching suit. You turned heads in the church, at the reception. You swore the bride gave you a dirty look at one point. You didn’t care. All you cared about was Spencer’s hand on your waist as the two of you danced. 

“Why did it take you so long to call?” Spencer asked during a slow song. His lips were close to your ear. His breath against your skin made a pleasant chill go down your spine. 

“Life got in the way,” you muttered. It was a poor excuse, but it was hard to put into words that you wanted to see him but thought you couldn’t. Or rather, that you shouldn’t.

“I missed you,” he admitted. 

“Oh yeah?” you teased. “What did you miss?”

“Being around you,” Spencer said. He pulled away a bit so he could look you in the eye. “You’re the only person who’s never looked at me like I’m crazy. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are great, but… they don’t understand. You do.”

You set a hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

“I wish you were closer,” he said softly.

“Me too,” you agreed. “But right here, right now, we’re together. Let’s make the most of that, hm?”

He kissed you in silent agreement. 

You were pouring a second cup of hotel coffee when you felt Spencer’s arms wrap around your waist. You turned around in his grip, offering him a mug while you took a sip from the other.

“Thank you,” he said as he accepted the coffee. He kept one arm around you. 

“What’s on the agenda today, Dr. Reid?” you asked curiously. 

“It’s a surprise,” he said, pulling you closer. 

“Another casino?” you asked. “I like watching you call people’s bluff. It’s kind of hot.”

He chuckled. “Not a casino. I’m taking you somewhere special. Well, it’s special to me, at least.”

“I’m excited,” you grinned, running a hand down his chest. “You know that means you’ll have to put a shirt on, right?” 

“I will,” he assured, setting his mug on the table. “Eventually.”

He then took your mug and set it beside his. This confused you at first, but you quickly realized why: Spencer picked you up by the waist.

You set your hands on his shoulders, tilting your head back and letting out a laugh. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

Spencer threw you on the bed and crawled on top of you. He kissed you feverishly.

“Still want me to put a shirt on?”

You traced his collarbone with your index finger, humming softly. “Maybe later.”

You let Spencer drive to wherever he was taking you, as the element of surprise seemed to be important. You stared out the window for most of the trip, enjoying the scenery that passed you by. Your hand was on Spencer’s thigh, and his hand was on top of yours. It was brief moments like those that you let yourself believe you and him were in a relationship. 

Spencer eventually pulled into a parking lot. You let yourself look at the building he parked in front of. In a plain, black font, the sign above the  doors read ‘Bennington Sanitarium’. You turned your attention to Spencer.

“Do you trust me?” He asked instead of explaining.

You turned your hand over and laced your fingers with his. “Of course.” 

The two of you got visitor passes quickly; it mostly likely  meant he visited often. You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

As the two of you were lead through to building, you held Spencer’s hand. When you were shown to an open room that resembled something of  a lounge, you felt his grip falter. You took it as a queue to let go. You let your hand fall back to your side, suddenly feeling cold.

A woman with short, blonde hair in a long sweater stood up upon seeing Spencer. She was obviously older than both of you, but she carried her age with grace. She had wrinkles only a mother could get.

“Hi, mom,” Spencer greeted warmly. 

The woman smiled and hugged him.

“Hello, Spencer,” she returned. 

When she pulled away, she noticed you. 

“Who’s this?” She asked.

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s my…”

“Friend,” you finished for him. You stuck your hand out with a smile.

Though hesitant, the woman shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N, this is Diana Reid. My mother.” 

Diana looked to her son. “She’s pretty.”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s not like you didn’t notice,” she teased. She turned her attention to you. “Do you work with Spencer?”

“No,” you shook your head with a chuckle. “Well, not exactly. We met when he was working a case.”

“No conflict of interest…” Diana noted. Spencer gave her a look, but said nothing. “Do you play poker, Y/N?” “Not as well as Spencer, but I try,” you replied. 

You headed out of Vegas early the next day. You wanted to get a head start before the morning traffic, and besides, you knew it would be nice for Spencer if he got some real sleep before his flight. You didn’t want to think about the fact that your time with him was ending, though, so you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. 

“Why did you take me meet your mother?” you asked softly. Spencer opted to take the first half the drive back home. You agreed, hoping the silence would clear your head.

“She’s my biggest secret,” Spencer said. “It took me years to tell anyone on the team she’s been in treatment since I was 18.”

“Why tell me?”

“You told me about your dad. I thought it was only fair you learn something ugly about me and my life.”

You reached a hand out, brushing back some of his hair. “Nothing about you is ugly.” 

When your hand hovered over his cheek, Spencer turned his hand to kiss your palm. You smiled. 

“Thank you for trusting me with your secret,” you told him.

He smiled. “Thank you for letting me.” 

The radio played quietly in the backdrop. The songs changed, and you recognized the faint beginning. You turned up the dial and sang along.

“A year from now, we’ll all be gone, all our friends will move away,”  You sang, mostly to yourself. “And they’re going to better places, but our friends will be gone away. Nothing is as it has been, and I miss your face like hell,” you sang a bit louder, mostly so Spencer could hear. “And I guess it’s just as well,” you reached a hand up, running your thumb along his jaw. “...But I miss your face like hell.” 

The rest of the ride was like a dream come true. At the halfway mark, you pulled over, got some lunch, and switched places. Other than that, the two of you sang, talked, sang some more, and stole kisses when the other person wasn’t paying attention. Of course, you were driving, so the kisses were nothing more than a peck on the cheek. Still, you blushed and giggled every time his lips touched your skin. 

Maybe this weekend was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter. 

_____________________

That night, your head rested on Spencer’s chest. You listened to his heart, and it seemed like with every beat, he pulled you a little bit closer. You felt euphoric. 

And yet, at the same time, you felt guilty. 

“Spencer?” you asked quietly, like if you spoke to loudly, the moment would evaporate. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” he promised. His hands ran up and down your back, as if to assure you.

“Hotchner came to see me the morning before your flight home,” you said. “He asked if I had any interest in becoming a profiler.”

Spencer shifted, sitting up against the bed frame. You sat up as well. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Y/N, that’s… incredible,” he said with a laugh of blissful disbelief.

Your head shot up. “Really?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Spencer asked. “You’d make an excellent profiler, and you’d be a welcome addition to the team. Plus, we could use someone with your sort of medical expertise.” 

You smiled smally. “You think so?”

He took your hand, squeezing lightly. “There’s not a doubt in my mind.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” you apologized. “I’ve spent these last few months thinking.” 

“I understand; it’s a lot to think about.” 

As always, Dr. Spencer Reid was completely and utterly right. 

Saying goodbye at the airport turned out to be a lot harder than you thought. 

You sat side by side for a long time, holding hands and listening to music. You shared one set of earbuds, and the two of you took turns choosing the music. Spencer once mentioned that he mostly listened to Classical music, but he seemed to be enjoying the songs you introduced him to. And, surprisingly, you enjoyed the ones he chose too. You used to think you didn’t like classical music. 

At one point, during a song he picked out, Spencer began to tap his fingers against your knee. You were leaned against his body, one leg crossed over the other, so it was easy for him to rest his arm on your thigh and tap your knee. It took you a few seconds to realize he was ‘playing’ the song on your knee as he would play it on the piano. 

Eventually, his flight was called, and the two of you had to part ways. You stood up, and tears began to well in your eyes. You cleared your throat, forcing a smile on your face.

“I had a good time this last week,” you told Spencer. “I had a really, really good time.”

He smiled. “I did too.”

You felt a tear make its way down your face. You wiped it away hastily. “I hate goodbyes.”

Spencer moved in, kissing your forehead and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hello, Y/N.” 

You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “Hello, Dr. Reid.” 

_____________________

“What did you do with your time off?” your mother asked, pouring hot water into your mug. She insisted on making you tea instead of coffee — something about how you should cut back on caffeine. 

“I went to Natalie’s wedding,” you answered, taking a careful sip.

She frowned. “The one in Vegas?”

You nodded.

“You hate going to weddings,” your mom said, taking a seat at the table across from you. 

“I hate going to weddings alone,” you corrected.

You bobbed your tea bag up and down. You chose to look at the movement rather than the look you knew was on your mother’s face.

“Who did you go with?”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” you replied. Even in your peripheral vision, you could see your mom’s jaw drop. 

“‘Doctor’?” She asked. “How old is he?”

“My age,” you responded. “He’s not an MD: he has a few doctorates, is all.”

“A few? And he’s your age? Who is this man, Einstein?”

“He’s definitely a genius,” you assured with a laugh.

“How’d you meet him?”

“Oh, he works for the FBI,” you answered. You tried to sound as casual as you possibly could.

“How did you manage to meet an FBI agent?” She paused. “You met him because of those girls, didn’t you?”

You tried not to think about that too often; it made you feel dirty. What happened to those girls was horrible, and it didn’t feel fair that one of the best things in your life happened because of their suffering. In fact, the guilt that fact caused you was part of the reason why you didn’t tell Spencer about Hotch’s offer.

“I did,” you confirmed. “I like him, mom. I like him a lot.” 

She smiled, setting a hand on your cheek. “I’m glad you do, hon.” she moved her hand away to take a sip from her own mug. “How often do you get to see Spencer?”

“Not often enough,” you said. 

“Is all you wanted to talk about, Y/N?” She asked. “You sounded worried over the phone…”

You sighed. “I applied to the University of Virginia… and I got accepted. I can start in Spring.”

“That’s… amazing,” your mom praised. “Since when did you want to go back to school?” 

“Since I realized the world is bigger than Colorado,” you replied. “Bigger than the Army, even.”

“What will you be going for?”

“Psychology for sure. At least a Masters, maybe a PhD if I’m feeling adventurous.”

“Will you be working while you take classes? They could use a Paramedic like you anywhere,” your mom said.

“Mom, I never said I was going,” you told her.

“Why wouldn’t you?! It’s an incredible opportunity,” she argued.

“I know. It’s just… not here. I wouldn’t be in Colorado anymore.”

“So? Like you said, the world is bigger than Colorado,” she said. The expression on her face changed. “Honey, don’t stay here for me. Seriously, don’t. I can’t live with that.”

“It wouldn’t be your choice,” you said. “Besides, it’s not just about you. It’s about me too, you know.”

“It’s about your father,” your mother disagreed softly. She took your hand. “If Virginia will make you happy, then go to Virginia. You’ll visit me, I’ll visit you… We’ll make it work. Promise me you won’t stay for me, for your dad, or for anyone else.”

“I left you once,” you said weakly, shame in your voice and heart. “Dad died, and 2 years later, I left. I can’t just leave you again, Mom.”

“You’re not leaving me,” she promised. “You’re living. That’s what your dad would want you to do.” She squeezed your hand. “It’s what I want you to do.” 

After awhile, you nodded.

You always thought you were good at leaving. Maybe now, you’d be good at living. You couldn’t wait to start living, especially if it meant Spencer would be by your side.  

_____________________

Part 3

[paramsiddharth]

#9: A Birthday Spent Unwell

I turned 19 today. Yee! That's really something to be excited about. I have mixed feelings about completing an year as an adult, but in the end it is all about growing up. In the end, we all learn and become a better version of ourselves.

The last post was full of emotionlessness. Not that anything has changed, but I am trying to figure out how to solve the dilemma life has put me into. I have been having trouble with my parents. One good reason is that I just happened to be spending so many months with my parents instead of being in college, due to COVID-19, and it is making things harder for them.

Another reason goes back to 2015-2016. I was very young compared to now. At the tender age of 15, I my parents often told me how I annoy and torture them. Getting beaten up was like a daily activity for me. I understand that it is a necessary part of a kid's upbringing. However, the problem was that I never understood what I did that bothered them. My skin grew thick as leather from getting beaten up, so at some point I got used to the pain. The idea of somehow hurting my parents' feelings, however, never left, and continued to torture me for years.

The situation right now is similar. Last time I talked to my mother when she wasn't mad at me, she asked me to become the boy I used to be. And I really admit, neither I nor she has changed. It just went back to how it used to be years ago. The only difference is that we are living in an awful condition and I have an adult body now. I still don't understand why my parents get mad at me, and unless they stop the scolding and beating and tell me what the problem is, I will never know.

Money really is a big deal. If we think about it, money is essential for human survival. It keeps the careless working on their feet, and eases the flow of resources. Yet, it isn't perfect. It causes more suffering to the poor and underprivileged than anything else. Half our problems would have gone away if we had sufficient money.

Observing biological growth is ugly and beautiful at the same time. It sure takes time to get used to the changes we go through. The process of becoming a human is a gradual and snaily process — It doesn't end once a human is born. It takes years of growth for the bodily systems to start functioning, the conscience to get used to worldly cruelty, and the mind and body to learn situation awareness. I haven't observed much change within the past year, which probably means I have surpassed the growing season of my life to reach the stable phase and my physical growth has slowed down.

A few of my friends wished me my birthday today. It feels nice when your friends remember. Daddy and babu (my brother) wished me too. It feels incomplete… It really is. My mother didn't wish me. Her hateful words continue to stab me every once in a while.

This had turned so cliché. I myself am tired of talking about how miserable I am. I want this to end too. But I don't get to control time. So I don't know what else to do…

I listened to my heart and tried everything I could. I talked to my friends, engaged into activities I like. I need to continue doing this. I won't stop. My mother said I don't do anything for her and I will never make her or my family happy. I'm tired of telling them that I love them and that I can do anything for her. I will keep quiet from now on and let them see for themselves.

I have continued studying on Coursera. I really don't want to give it up while it is still free, and there's just too much good content to let go of. I'm learning more of NodeJS and SQL, and I am spending some time doing a course on the technology behind music production too. I recently finished the second course on R.

She always talks about how I should stop studying and how it's not even worth it. Plus it would save money. I beg to differ. The first thing I will have a good chance at is a good career, and that will come from my education, experience, and degree. It will cost money, but it will be worth it. Years later, I will prove to her that I made it worth it.

I will make my dad talk to a good therapist on phone alone, sometime. I want him to understand how all this can be fixed by therapy. I want him to understand that we can choose to heal. I want us to change for good. That is our only chance at lifelong happiness.

Honestly, this wasn't even my birthday. I still hardly feel it is my birthday at all. Not that I am upset, but it is natural to expect some difference on this day. I guess dates are just dates. ;)

See you!

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 86

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 85. Chapter 87.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

A/N: I loved writing this chapter so so much. Almost as much as I loved writing chapter 89, but that hasn’t been posted yet so y’all gotta wait.

——————

It’s late, closer to evening, when we meet Master Uthar. He’s older and gray. Not his hair, his skin. But he has a sort of wisdom to him. Different from the wisdom of the other Jedi I’ve met, but a wisdom nonetheless. He looks at me knowingly. No idea what he knows, because if he knows why I’m really here, he’d have me killed. He stands in the center of a large entry hall and addresses me, Mekel, Shaardan, and Lashowe. “Greetings, prospective students,” he says to us all, “It appears we have a late entry. Who do you bring before me, Yuthura? A young human, bristling with the Force?”

“A human that has had some training, it seems, Master Uthar,” she tells him, “Very promising, I think.”

Shaardan laughs. “Promising?” he repeats, “Hmph. That one's not worthy to lick spit off your shoes, Master!” 

“I met this one in the colony,” Lashowe adds, “Unworthy, if you ask me.”

“That I'll judge for myself, thank you,” Uther says, waving them to silence. “What is your name?” he asks me.

“Rena Visz.”

“Well, then, Rena, tell me, what do you know of the ways of the Sith?” he asks me, “What preconceptions has your mind been polluted with?”

“Well,” I say, thinking about it, “I know duty and discipline are important all the way down the hierarchy. Never met a Sith who wasn’t committed to his orders. When fighting them, I know they’re powerful, a force to be reckoned with. Great duelists. Good technique.” I shrug. “Never had one able to beat me in a friendly duel, but… Killed a fair few.” Why did I say that? That was so stupid to say.

“Hmm…” he says passively, “Most impressive, if it is true. Those who were too weak to stand against you deserved their fate, so expect no retribution from us.” Thank God for that. “There is much you can learn from the Sith, and we from you.” He then addresses the others as well as me. “The Jedi equate the light with goodness and strength and the dark with weakness and evil. That is their tradition and it is truly no surprise that they cling to it for comfort. We, however, do not treat the Force as a burden. We treat it as a gift, a thing to be celebrated. We use it to acquire power over others.” That, I hate. “And why should we not?” Morals, maybe? “Because the Jedi say we should not? We are as the Force is meant to be. The Jedi would hide that from you. They would tell you the Dark Side is too quick, too easy, all so that they need never challenge the passions that lie within them. Joining with us means realizing your true potential. It means not stifling yourself solely for the sake of hide-bound shamans and their antiquated notion of order. Be what you were meant to be.”

He turns to Lashowe. “What say you, Lashowe? Are you ready to learn the secrets of the dark side? Dare you?”

“I dare, Master Uthar!” she exclaims, “I’m ready!”

“Brash and fiery, as expected. Turn that passion to your advantage, child,” he says, and he turns to Mekel. “What of you, Mekel? Are you ready?”

“I am, Master,” Mekel says, “I’m ready.”

He nods at Mekel. “I sense much anger within you, young one. That is good. That will provide you power.” He turns to Shaardan. “And Shaardan… what of you?”

“I am always ready!” Shaardan says far too eagerly.

“I see,” Uthar says, not impressed, “You had best gather your wits for the trial ahead, boy, or you will not last.” And finally, he turns back to me. “And you, Rena? Does this interest you? Are you ready to learn more of what I speak?”

Not in the slightest, but I have to stay here until I find Dustil and get the Star Map. So I lie. “I’m ready to learn more.”

“Are you?” I hate that skepticism in his voice, it makes me feel uneasy. “I can see into your heart, Rena,” he says, “and I see the dark kernel that is there. If it is ready to sprout remains to be seen.”

He turns to address us all again. “Now, then,” he says, “All of you four recruits have shown a degree of facility with the Force… you all have the potential to become true Sith. Only one of you, however, will succeed. The one who succeeds will be admitted to the academy as a full Sith. All others must wait until next year and try again… if you survive.” He gestures to Yuthura. “My pupil, Yuthura, shall be your teacher and master while you attempt to prove yourselves. Heed her words.”

Yuthura steps forward. “As Master Uthar said, none of you are true Sith yet,” she says to us, “For that to occur, one of you must do enough of worth - gain enough prestige - to be selected. What is an act of worth? You must learn that for yourselves. Remember that you are competitors, here - fight for your destiny, or go home.”

Uthar speaks again. “If you wish to gain a lead over your competitors, the first of you to learn the Code of the Sith and tell me of it will be rewarded. The rest is for you to discover.” Sounds like fun - I have to compete against some of the most competitive people in the universe. “Welcome to the Dark Side, my children. Your one chance at true greatness lies here.”

The three of us are led to a bed chamber marked with my name. It’s not very big, mostly a bed and a footlocker with a computer terminal, but they’ve also given me two bedrolls, presumably for Carth and Jolee - my slaves, remember? Jolee hates it, but Carth and I both agree to give him the bed. He’s older and bitchier than either of us, so there’s no changing our minds. We all push the bed as close to the wall as it will go, so there’s more room for the bed rolls. 

Jolee falls right to sleep. And it’s a pretty heavy sleep. I spend some time using the computer terminal, trying to get a map of the Academy. Gives me a place to start looking for Dustil, and maybe find the archives. It makes sense to me that they would have information on the terentatek, information that I can actually access, unlike the Jedi. 

Carth comes up to me. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you? It’s important.”

Oh. “Yeah, sure.” I load the map into my datapad and sit on the floor next to him. “What’s up?”

“You know, I was listening to what you told Yuthura earlier,” he says, “Pretty intense stuff.”

“Yeah,” I say, “Sorry I stole from your story a little bit.”

“I’m not bothered by that, don’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t think you would be, given the circumstances.”

“And when you told her Jolee and I were slaves, I was a little surprised. Mostly surprised that she bought it,” he says, “Because you’re a lousy liar, I think I’ve said that before.”

“You have.”

“But what I’m trying to figure out is…” he says slowly, and I notice now his hand is resting on his blaster pistol, “… you’re not a good liar at all, but your story to Yuthura, about your views on the Jedi, was convincing. Convincing enough to fool a Sith. Hell, convincing enough to where I couldn’t tell if you were lying or not. And the last time that happened… well, you know what happened…”

“Carth, what are you asking me?”

“I wanted to be in here, sure, to find Dustil,” he says, “but I’m starting to wonder why you wanted to be in here.”

His hand on his blaster looks less passive now. And it’s making me a little nervous. “Carth…”

“I’m asking you this because you’re my friend and I care about you,” he says quickly, “Why did you want to get into this academy?”

“I told you,” I say, “To get to the Star Map and find Dustil.”

And now his blaster comes out. Now, even as close as he is, I could still get the blaster out of his hand. I could still take him out if he makes me, if I have to. But he wouldn’t be doing this if he really wanted to hurt me. If Carth wanted to hurt me, he wouldn’t have let me see the blaster. I’ve had my back to him enough. He could have shot me while I was asleep. If he wanted to take me out, he wouldn’t be doing this. “I want you to tell me, yes or no,” he says, hand steady, eyes almost glistening, and the emotion I get off of him is a firm, repeating, “not again”, “do you want to join the Sith?”

I try to stay calm. I take a deep breath, and say, “No.”

“Did you mean all the things you told Yuthura?”

“Some of them,” I tell him honestly.

“What do you mean, some of them?”

I take another deep breath. “The Jedi Order has lied to me, and kept things from me. You said it yourself, they hadn’t told me everything. When they sent me to the Grove to find Juhani, they told me it was to cleanse the Grove of its dark taint. They didn’t tell me that it was a person. And that’s just a lie I’ve uncovered. I don’t think that’s the only one. On Kashyyyk, we fought a creature called a terentatek that feeds on the Dark Side, but when I went to look it up in their archives, I couldn’t find anything, like they’re actively keeping information from me. Bastila herself told me that the Jedi believe no one should be executed for their crimes, no matter what they are. The Jedi would rather restore Malak to the light than kill him, and there we disagree. I don’t think he should live when he’s killed so many people, and I don’t think you do, either.” He doesn’t respond. “I think some of their teachings are wrong and out of date, and I believe, as you do, I know you do, that the Order’s decision not to intervene in the Mandalorian War was a bad one - in face, if Revan and Malak hadn’t had to disobey the Order to help, I don’t think they would have fallen, but we’ll never know.”

“And about the Dark Side?” he says, “About it corrupting?”

“I think we’ve both felt and seen how it corrupts. But I don’t think that’s the Force so much as how you use it. At the end of the day,” I say, “all I want to do is help people. I want to help as many people as possible. On that, the Order and I agree. The Sith, on the other hand, actively dissuade helping people. The Order and I may disagree on a lot of key points, but when it comes to our ultimate goal, it’s no contest.” He doesn’t lower his blaster. “What more do you want from me, Carth?”

“I want some kind of assurance, but I don’t think that’s possible,” he says.

I think for a moment. “Maybe it is,” I say after a while, and I hold out my hand, “Take it.” He hesitates, looking at me skeptically. “If I do anything to hurt you, you’ve already got your weapon out - you could shoot me before I get close to my lightsaber.” He’s still a bit skeptical, but he takes my hand. “You’re not a Jedi,” I say, “so it won’t be the same, but I think I can still show you that I’m telling the truth. With the Force.” His grip tightens on his blaster. I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Feel the Force.

I don’t think I can describe in words exactly what I show him. To even describe it as vibes of trust would be to undermine and cheapen it, not to mention understate. I guess… imagine a warm yellow light, imagine the safest you’ve ever felt. The first time you tried your favorite food. Sometimes that’s what the Force feels like, that warm, safe feeling. I try to tell him that I mean everything I said to him, that I would never, ever, do anything to hurt him the way he’s been hurt before. I don’t ever want to look at him and feel the heart-stab he feels when he talks about Dustil and Morgana, his wife, and know that I did that. I couldn’t live with myself, love or no love. To feel his anger and disappointment in me is not a pain I think I could bear. The reason you are here, Carth, I try to tell him, is that I could never fall to the Dark Side if you’re there. You’ve already been hurt too much and I don’t want to do that to you again. I don’t want you to have to watch it and know that you couldn’t stop it. Not again.

He sets down his blaster, and lets go of my hand. He smiles and looks up at me, his eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you,” he mouths, his throat choking.

“It’s the truth,” I say. He nods wordlessly.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. For the blaster, I assume.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, “I understand.”

“No, for…” he starts to say, but he cuts off. I look at him curiously. Until he finally finishes: “Everything.”

Okay, now I have no idea what he means. But that was kind of draining, for both of us it would seem. I feel like I could actually sleep the whole night through.

I wonder if I told him more than I meant to…

[light-of-being]

a very fkin long and incomplete exposition of my flaws as a human being

I've not really spoken about the probably most consequential event in my recent life (the ending of a long term relationship), and that's because I haven't really thought about it very much. At least, not in a clear-headed space not entirely filled with rage, fear, or initially, longing. So, I've mostly just been waiting for the intensity of those responses to wear out before I can go back and make sense of things in a sorta 'safe' way.

(These days it's mostly anger and/or hurt. Sometimes twinges of hatred, but those fizzle quickly. I know that attitude isn't 'true'. I tried to hate him, I really did. Things would be so much simpler that way — an obvious villain of pure evil, a mistake worthy of contempt. Put him behind me as someone I regret meeting and consider everything only as a flashing warning sign of what to avoid next time. But real life never is that easy, is it.)

Regardless, reading about miscellaneous psychological ~stuff, I realised that I know for sure now that there are sides of me that only come out in a close relationship, as they postulate. It's unfortunate that my exposure to this was only in such a toxic environment, and I'm not sure if or when closeness has any chance of happening again.

I suspect, based on what I have/haven't felt with him vs others, that I can (at least at this stage of my development) only really feel 'seen' by an antisocial/narcissist/schizoid (or something in that general direction), just hope to god it's a mature one next time. I might want to interrogate and possibly change that fact, I'm not sure it's at all a healthily arrived preference. But...

there is a degree of normalcy and social belonging in others that becomes a wall

I can relate superficially, cognitively and even 'deeply personally' (tho is all y'all's deeply personal shit necessarily relational?), have a good time and even feel 'connection' but there are parts that seem simply insurmountable.

The lack of relating to many things is the unifying factor between me and the specified groups: the shared experience of not having shared experiences

But yet, a more acute awareness of superficiality, and the drives and mechanics of human interactions, attitudes, identity and constructs, not taken for granted as default but built from the ground up (Most often out of either necessity or a desire to manipulate them, but still).

Actually, most straightforwardly, the shared experience of experiencing oneself as an outsider to society — whether people personally, accepted norms or expected attitudes towards self and other.*

Anyway, that was a whole semi-tangent I went off on (useful and relevant to the initial thought but not the point I was planning on).

Important point was...ah yes, insights!

...into how I behave under genuine relational circumstances. Due to aforementioned toxicity, I'm not sure how generalisable they are to relationships overall, but they should generalise to feeling-states.

1.

(a) Fear. Defensiveness.

Switches off my brain. Obvious? No. I have been actively strategic while having a gun pointed at me. I thought I had that down. Turns out, I cannot dissociate myself out of an argument most of the time.

Turns out, just the fact or even prospect of arguing activates panic and brain goes out the window. Which is really fucking stupid as an occurrence because how many of these could be prevented with a bit of mindfulness and thoughtful responding. But getting emotions to chill out for long enough to do that is tough.

(b) I am a stubborn dumbass. Kid me argued until they were attacked so harshly that they absolutely could not continue. The alternative presented was to just keep silent, one I did not then and do not now accept. Discussion where both parties partake in good faith have generally been fruitful, only neither of these situations were that. Both involved one person trying to dominate at all costs. To which I suppose keeping silent for the moment and then running tf away is an appropriate response. Idk. I'm not sure if this is a 'normal situation' to which I respond unhealthily, or an 'abnormal situation' in which you just do your best to survive. Arguments are normal. Idk if other people have a less aggressive approach that is less outright terrifying, in which I can modulate, but it does seem like people want to prove you wrong and get angry, which I perceive as aggression.

2. 

Which brings me to boundaries. Can I shut things down when I'm overwhelmed. In the present case, the answer was no. They both didn't stop and the fact that I asked for this was interpreted as admission of defeat.Oftentimes, getting out of the situation was more of an ordeal than dealing with it. [We stayed at a hotel the one time and he did things that made me very uncomfortable (in like a “things that I shudder at thinking about even now” kind of way; not sexual btw which this has made it sound). I thought I was as clear as I could’ve been by saying, “I’m going to legit have a breakdown if you keep doing that” but apparently it came across as a joke (gotta improve on communication as well). He stopped and apologised when he realised I was crying, but later blamed me for not being more assertive and laughed at my ‘exaggerated’ response and “meltdown”. At this point I wanted to leave and go home, but he withheld [my copy of] the key. He insisted and manipulated and coerced for discussion, said I could have the key if I “really wanted it, but do I actually want that”, until it was just easier to give in. The helplessness and feeling trapped of that evening haunts me to this day, and I want to be very sure to never be in any situation where that is even a possibility again no matter what.]

I need to get better at knowing what is and isn't okay and being strong enough to enforce that.

3.

(a) Attachment is a bitch. Utterly unfamiliar sensation, one I don't know my way around at all. The rarity of relation makes it seem so fucking precious, so fucking necessary to protect even to my detriment and his. Dare I tip the boat or will it sink. Should I be the dancing monkey to keep it from sinking. Should he.

(b) The feeling of giving a damn what someone thinks of me is also foreign and difficult. It also seems hella intensified by virtue of not existing elsewhere. Disapproval feels devastating. Criticism becomes attack. Everything feels like a continuous effort to establish worth. I'd imagined acceptance could be taken for granted, but I questioned it the whole way (obviously doesn't help when he demands changes).

(c) I have trouble distinguishing between personal issues and insecurities and legitimate reason to be upset. I think this is typical. But with trial and error, one can probably pick up on what you carry with you across differing people and circumstances. I don't have that data. I have nothing to compare against. I also suspect some parts of this is him treating legitimate reasons as being my distorted perceptions, which I'm pretty sure did happen for a few things that I believe are 'objectively' shitty.

5. 

I trust. Too. Fucking. Much. I take shit at face value. This is very often dumb and...bad in literally every sense, but I don’t yet know how to identify preemptively when that's the case. I also fail to be adequately 'suspicious' I guess to be alert to minor inconsistencies later on. Lies are especially devastating. I built my reality around you using that fundamental premise. Now you tell me it was false all along. Where does that leave me? I go back to substitute and nothing makes sense. I don't know if the initial statement was a lie or the claim that it's false was. I don't know if everything I remember is just distorted somehow. I don't know what to do. (aside: gaslighting? I’m inclined to say “effectively, yes”. The best explanation I have is that for many things he rewrote the narrative in his own mind and does not remember the things that blatantly contradict it. For other things, I cannot see that being possible and am forced to think it’s just pure lies). All of this could have been prevented if I accounted for people being dishonest.

6. 

(a) I lose sympathy. Genuinely did not ever expect this to happen. Enough hurt, enough deception and I stop trying to understand why. I assume malice. I expect malice in future interactions and misread situations as a result. In the beginning I made fucktons of effort to be understanding of things far from my typical range (hello, admissions of past violence and present homicidal ideation. Hello, talking someone out of real intention of ruining a person's life over a minor slight). Honestly, I think I overreached. Some of these things were not things I should have tolerated, accepted even. When I started walking on eggshells to not have him ruin my life, too, that was probably when I should've gotten out. He claimed that the people he cares about are exceptions. That's probably true, otherwise I would currently be in a ton of shit. But at some point I did stop believing it.

(b) I don't really think that most of the things that happened were malicious. Some, he admits, were. But mostly he wasn't out with the intention to hurt me, but he also didn't make the effort...not to. Even with me repeatedly complaining about things, he was defensive or dismissive, considering me talking about an issue to be me creating issues in his life. This is super shitty, his damage is caused by a stubborn ego fixation and sheer passivity, thoughtlessness (he has agreed to all of this in our final conversation), but it isn't exactly intentionally malicious. If he genuinely didn't believe there was a problem, that is an issue, and the fact that he utterly failed until the end to even consider the possibility of a valid complaint, is a very real flaw. He is bad insofar as "he is lazy and incompetent at being good". Which I can understand but nevertheless protect myself from. Ideally, sooner. At the point where I start feeling like someone is being shitty more often than not, something needs to happen. A discussion, a reconsideration, a run-as-fast-as-you-can... Something.

Idk. This isn't everything. But yeah.

.

.

.

* These 3 PDs are often used in illustrating the idea of pathologising difference: few of the criteria are about subjective distress and many about extrinsic value judgements of what a person should be like (lol, my clinical psych final had an essay question on this). I don't necessarily agree but it does speak to a shared thread of...something. That said, this characterisation is tbh still too broad for my liking. Importantly, it is definitively applicable to autistic people but I do not in general relate to that in the same way. Some specific manifestations of it, yes, but I have seen far too many excessively... 'human' autistic people to include the whole category. There are probably folks in the PD categories who are also like that but I think much less common.

[idkhyuck]

My First and Last- A Renjun Soulmate AU

A/N: OKAY SO I REALLY WANTED TO TRY MY HAND AT A CHEESY SOULMATE AU BECAUSE I FLIPPING LOVE SOULMATES. idk if i hate this or not, feedback is appreciated and i’m going to post it in parts so this is only part one. I cried like a baby writing this so i hope i’m able to get the emotion i was trying to convey across. A Song i recommend listening to while reading are Berenstein by the Band Camino. just to get a feel for the longing and need. 

RENJUN x SOULMATE!READER

WARNINGS/ ANGST, MENTIONS OF MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. 

I remember the day I turned 18 I used my ID to go to see a  Soulmate fortune Teller. All of my friends went out drinking with their soulmates. They all met theirs young. My best friend Julia; Met hers when she was 7 Charlie moved in next door and they met each other and cried because they were freaked out at what was happening.. Meeting you’re soulmate is a huge thing. You live you’re whole life waiting for this. They both can’t tell me what they felt because they barely remember it. Julia said her heart started racing and her eyes blurred out and refocused.  Usual cliché shit, The dilated eyes, the heartbeat. I just knew there had to be more to it.  Imagine spending most of my life with Julia and Charlie who can’t live with out each other. That’s another thing. Apparently being away from you’re soulmate once found is physically and emotionally painful. Old people often die in pairs because they can’t handle the pain of their lover dying. My parent’s are so hopelessly in love it hurts. Everyone around me is in love. I was a hopeless case. I honestly thought all of my teenage years I didn’t have a soulmate. I was meant to live this hopeless lonely life all my life and never know the feeling of “true love”. It sucked because kids never wasted time dating because you’ll find your one, someday. I’ve read tons of books and stories of people choosing who they fall in love with. I longed for a world like that, until I went into that fortune teller’s shop.

“I can tell you three facts about you’re soulmate.” She told me as she sat me in front of her. She looked at me, through me? Idk it was a weird experience.

“He appears older than he is.” She said. How much older could he be? I wondered to myself. I hoped it wasn’t a gross age gap. “He’s adored by many people.” Adored? Like by his family? Friends? Or like famous? “He will die shortly after you meet.” What?

“a-“ I started

“of course It’s a bit foggy, but this is what I see right now.” She said as she blinked her eyes back to herself?

“die?” I asked

“oh my dear, That’s how life is sometimes, you are a strong girl, I know you’ll be okay.” She said. It’s been 5 years since then. I now know who “he” is at the age of twenty three. I’ll never forget the moment I saw him. I was watching some music videos with my friends, They were discussing the differences of K-pop groups. It was a usual night at the dorm. I was 21 years old and in my third year of my degree. I was a business major, so I was always swamped with homework. I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were playing on the TV, I heard this voice and I Just had to look up. There he was, My soulmate. My heart started racing, I felt nauseous, My eyes could only see him. I wasn’t overcome with emotion like many say you’re supposed to be. But like it was as if someone had turned off the entire world around me and all I could see and think was SOULMATE. I blinked a few times, I’d finally lost my mind. This Korean boy was my soulmate. How? This can’t be. And he was going to die. No. he couldn’t, I wouldn’t let him. If I never met him he would never die right? He was the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen, My entire being literally throbbed upon the thought of him dying. I don’t even know his name. I looked up

“y/n? you okay?” Julia asked

“uh, yeah. Who is this group?” I asked, I just noticed how shallow my breathing was, My voice sounded so ragged.

“are you sure you’re okay?” Julia asked she sounded far away, as My soulmate had just started singing again.

“who?” I asked, my voice was tiny. I lifted my shaky hand up to point at him on the TV

“HOLY SHIT! y/n?” Julia said coming over to grab me. She knelt in front of me. “That is your soulmate isn’t it?” She said trying to hold my hands that were vibrating. I could see the other girls now intrigued, The video paused on him now. I looked up and it hurt to look at him, it hurt but I couldn’t pinpoint where, or why. Wtf the was happening to me. I tore my eyes away to look down at Julia, I nodded. “oh my god.” She whispered. awhile back I had told her what the Soulmate fortune teller told me, She was waiting for this. We had plans to move to LA after graduation with hopes of finding my soulmate in the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. That was the first night it hurt to be away from him. I spent the months after researching soulmates. They were still such a mystical thing to us as humans. Apparently there were studies of long distance soul mates having phantom pains. That would explain the why my body constantly ached. I watched how hard he worked, I grew to love his music, I picked up on the Korean so easily, the Chinese was something to be desired. I grew to love him, and I didn’t even know him. Studies also proved that once someone acknowledges their soulmate the other is able to feel it even If they haven’t met yet. I often wondered if he felt me. I know he’s dreaming of me. That’s a huge thing there are so many stories of one-sided love lorn soulmates longing to get to theirs but can’t at the time. Like when you pass on a busy street or something like that The one who doesn’t know often had dreams of their soulmate until the day they meet. There’s so much we as a human society know about soulmates. I was now apart of this society. I had my soulmate. The one thing that the fortune teller had wrong was he’s actually not old. He’s currently 19 years old, She got that wrong. I hoped and prayed she got the other thing wrong. I’d lie awake at night longing for him, I did not expect that. I cried myself to sleep many a night because it physically hurt to be without him. Julia was living her happy life, Sleeping with Charlie every night, Kissing him, feeling him, being near him, Getting to spend the rest of her life with him. As much as I longed for him I didn’t want to meet him, If I never met him he’d live his life out. How can the one person in the world that is meant for me be so ill-fated because of me. I was his harbinger of death and I hated it. I’d rather live my life never knowing him than to have to lose him one day.

 Despite my constant protests, Julia had convinced me to come spend the summer in Seoul. She hated seeing how much it hurt me to be without him. He had to be looking too she said. He was in the middle of a comeback right now so there we’re lots of promotions and shows around town. I saw a few billboards with him on it. I really didn’t have a plan, I wasn’t going to stalk him, he dealt with that enough. So after I got settled in at my apartment, I spent a few days a week at the café in his companies building. So many girls dreamed of meeting their favourites here. They’d pass through at some point right?  A few weeks passed with no luck, but today was extra busy, The staff had begun to know me at this point, My favourite staff was working today, She always let me use the Staff bathroom. I had just ordered my coffee and put it on my table I had taken out my book for the day when the urge to pee hit me. I went and asked her and she gave me the key. I was walking down the hall it was passed the room where the idols would film their things. I was kind of anxious today and I didn’t really now why. It was bugging me, I didn’t want to leave early, They were supposed to be here today. I splashed some water on my face and went back out, I locked the bathroom door behind me and heard a gasp behind me, I instantly felt chills throughout my entire body. I slowly turned and saw him standing there, I swore I blacked out for a millisecond. I froze, my legs felt heavy, My heart was racing.

“dreams. Y-y..” he said

“Renjun.” I said my voice shaky, I looked at him, he was getting paler by the second, I reached out to grab his hand, He reached out to me, our eyes never leaving the others once. The moment his hand touched mine, I felt every single emotion possible, relief mostly, pain, Pure happiness. I couldn’t help but cry. I didn’t notice I was crying until he reached down to wipe my cheek. My skin was so hot, his fingers cold to the touch. He was handling  this so much better than me.

“soulmate.” He said quietly

“y/n” I said quietly my voice shaky

“y/n” He repeated. “it’s okay.” He said and in the moment life honestly was okay. I felt so content just being near him. This is everything I could have ever wanted in life and more and it hurt me that I might not always have this would i constantly live with this fear in the back of my mind. I was sobbing at this point, He pulled me into his arms and held me there. Shushing and cooing at me telling me it was going to be okay. I had never felt more okay in my life than I did in his arms. I totally understand why Julia and Charlie were always holding onto each other.

“hey!” Someone said from behind us, The furious stomping, I looked up and saw Renjun had tears streaming down his cheeks too now. He wiped his eye with his sleeve and kind of hid me behind him.

“it’s okay.” He said in Korean.

“why?” The person asked

“she’s my soulmate.” He said his voice cracking slightly.

“what?” The person was shocked. “can’t be?” he said I peeked out and saw a tall guy I’m assuming was a body guard.

“bring her up to the practice room please?” He said wiping at his face. “She can’t go back out there now?” he said in perfect Korean. Wow I hoped I sounded like that when I spoke to him. “please?” he asked sounding small. The guard nodded. Renjun turned to me and started in English “he’s going to.” He started pointing all around “go up stairs with you.” He pointed at me and up

“I understand you.” I said my korean not as confident, his face lit up. “Are you sure this is okay?” I asked him

“I don’t know.” He said “I just know I don’t want you to leave.” He said “please go with him and wait for me?” He asked. I couldn’t say no to him, it hurt me to even think of ever hurting him. I nodded and followed behind the man. He silently led me through the back halls of the buildings. He opened a door and said

“wait here, they won’t be long.” He said “I’ll get you a guest pass.” He said then left. He returned not even a minute later with a pass “don’t do anything stupid.” He said then he was gone. I looked around, I’d seen these exact practice rooms so many  times on my computer watching him. I finally met him, He was so absolutely stunning in person, His voice was like it was made only for me to hear. He was perfect. I didn’t want to lose him, ever. I sat there trying to process everything I was feeling and all I knew was that I wanted to be in his arms again.

 He walked into the practice room, with a bottle of water and my coffee and book, How did he know, Was this a soulmate thing? I thought to myself.

“y/n” he said “how old are you?” he asked me

“23.” I answered.

“Noona.” He said taken aback, That was so cute, my health literally melted and flared up at the same time.  He came and sat beside me. “did you know?” he asked I nodded “For how long?”

“two years.” I said

“the dreams.” He said quietly eyes wide looking at nothing in particular then up at me “you’re even more beautiful in person.” He said reaching out to touch my face, Then shying away. “how are we supposed to do this?” he said thinking aloud.

“I don’t know.” I said “Please don’t be shy.” I said “it’s been two years.” My voice sounded tired and needy and I hated that he had that affect one me already. His eyes looked at me wide, The he looked down at my lips, Then he slowly leaned in, or I leaned in. I honestly don’t know. His breath mixed with mine as our faces were just centimeters apart.

“I think I love you.” He said before his lips met mine, The lightheaded airy, hot feeling that was rushing through my veins went into overdrive. I  reached up and held him behind his head. I wanted to open my eyes to see if there world really was disappearing around me like It felt like it did. Were we actually transcending into another universe together. Hopefully one where we could always feel like this. His arms wrapped behind me pulling me into him. I was going to pass out yet today I was sure of it. I pulled away much to his dismay, His whine barely audible. I looked at him, His cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and red, his eyes lit up like a galaxy. I looked down at his shaky arm that was wrapped around me. His breath was as rough as mine felt.  A smile came up on his face as he tried to steady his breath “Yeah, I definitely love you.” He said rubbing my back slightly.  “Where are you from?” he asked

“America.” I said. “I love you too.” I said, his cheeks flushed a little deeper at that.

“I feel like all of this is so backwards.” He laughed quietly laying his head back against the wall.

“When you have time we can go talk about whatever you want.” I said “I want to know you.” I said sounding needy again, I hated how easy it was to tell him this stuff. “I’ve spent two years only knowing you in here.” I said holding my phone up. I stretched my legs out in front of me and leaned back against the wall.

“come with me?” He said holding is hand out for me. I grabbed it, it felt like it was meant for me and only me, like I could never hold anyone else’s hand ever again. “I have the day off now.” He said laughing. We stood up and he led me out of the practice room to a stair case. I watched him as he walked up the stairs. He was so delicately beautiful. A few flights later we were on the roof, There was a bunch of lawn chairs and tables on the roof. He led me to a table that overlooked the city around us. I sat there and he sat across from me. He looked out at the world then at me. “wow.” He said. “I always wondered what it would be like.” He said. “Tell me how it went for you?” He said I explained the whole thing to him and how much it hurt me and how much I worried about him constantly and I was basically just pouring my heart and literal soul out to him and it was so easy and he looked at me with such deep expressions he was feeling everything I felt, he was real, this was real. as disorienting as it was to be here feeling all this at once It was so incredibly comforting to be near him, to be with him. He held my hand across the table, He’d bring it up to kiss it softly every now and then. I wondered if the intensity of his touch would wear off or would it always be like this. I wondered if he felt it this intensely too. “Tell me if any of this makes sense?” I said “did you feel me like they said you’re supposed to?” I said. Looking down then up at him. He looked at me his cheeks reddened.

“I felt everything.” He said “The first time it was insane, it wasn’t intense like everyone said it was.” He said “I just felt lightheaded and a little sick to my stomach.” He laughed “I thought I hadn’t eaten enough or worked too hard.” He said “it wasn’t until that night I had a dream.” He said looking at me in the eyes “I’ll never forget this first dream.” He said “I was onstage, crowd screaming, the guys around me. I slip and fall and everyone is gone, the crowd, the guys, the crew. It’s dark the lights are shining in my eyes. They couldn’t focus for a long time. Like you know when you take a picture of lights and they’re all glowy? Yeah that’s what my eyes were doing bouncing in and out of focus like that. Then I see something coming towards me from behind the light. I’m trying to hard to see what it is. Then I see, and it’s the most beautiful human in the world.” He said looking at me “I needed to get to you, I needed to be near you, I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t yell for you to come to me. I was opening my mouth and nothing was happening. You looked so lost. So scared, So alone. It hurt me. This dream haunted me for the first little bit.” He said “Then the dreams would change. I would be walking down this dark road trying to get to you. You were always just out of reach.” He said “not matter how much I wanted to get you I couldn’t In some of the dreams you’d tease me. You’d look right at me, through me and I couldn’t do nothing about it. I’d feel so vulnerable and lost in these dreams. In others I was just desperate” he said, His ears reddening. Desperate to touch you, and hold you and kiss you and hear you and Feel you.” He said “feel this.” He said holding our hands up “and so much more.” He said My heart was steadily pounding in my ears, I wondered if he could hear it, if he could feel it. I pulled one hand free and placed it on my chest

“can you feel it?” I asked sounding a little breathless. Was this him? Or me? Are we currently feeling each other? He swallowed hard and nodded placing his hand on his chest. “will it always be like this?” I asked him. “this can’t be healthy.” I laughed.

“I don’t know.” He said laughing quietly. “Tell me about you.” He said “I want to know everything.” He said looking at me, his eyes a glow. The sun was lower in the sky but not quite setting yet. It created a good afternoon glow. I started from birth and made my way up from there. He’d laugh like I was the funniest person in the world, His laugh was the most beautiful sound I’d ever seen. Everyone I was ever attracted to in life lacked compared to him. His boyish features, His soft eyes, I’d never seen true beauty until I met him in person. Our conversation came easy. We had so much in common, our childhoods were told as if we lived down the road from each other. His stories would bounce off of mine, or mine of of his, Our lives interconnected through these innocent memories where we had no idea we’d ever meet in this way, or at all. We were both lonely teens. He often wondered if he would be able to be with his soulmate because of who he became. He wondered if I saw him at his shows and he missed me. He’d always look into the crowd at his events. He’d look around at the airport. He was constantly searching for me because he felt like he failed because he didn’t see me when I saw him. He felt like he failed as a soulmate. He felt every ounce of sadness I felt when I was longing for him. He longed for me to find me and apologize. And he did apologize and it hurt to see him think he wasn’t enough. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him of the fate I was told of for him? Was that against the rules? Were there rules? He’d hurt enough already, I didn’t dare want to hurt him more let alone live without him. It could be wrong anyway.

“you’re sad.” He said looking at me worried, I couldn’t hide nothing from him now but I’d damn sure try and hide this for the rest of my life.

“you can never fail me.” I said. “ever. I hope I never fail you.” I said. “please always be here with me.” I said as tears started welling In my eyes

“I’ll always be with you now.” He said “we’ll never be apart.” He said reaching for my hand and pulling me up and towards him. He sat me across his lap. I felt so small in his arms and safe. and scared for him in this moment. I wanted nothing more in life than to protect him forever. He held me close to him, I could hear his heartbeat syncing with mine. His hands holding on to me at my hip, My one arm wrapped around him and I leaned into him. The nape of his neck warm, I kissed his pulse point and felt is on my lips, I hoped I’d always feel it there. The tears were falling steadily now. “don’t be sad.” He said to me in the softest voice. “you’ll be okay as long as I’m here.” He said. He had no idea what he was saying and how much it really meant to me, or maybe he did. “I’ll love you forever.” He said as he turned to kiss my lips softly. My hands immediately found his hair, I ran my hands through the ends as we kissed softly. His nose bumping mine. His hands holding onto me tightly. This kiss much more innocent than our last one but still had just as much of an effect on me as the first. My stomach was in knots as I tried to stop the tears and let him comfort me. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have come. His poor soul didn’t deserve me, I didn’t deserve him. His lips meeting my lips with growing intensity, his hands gripping me tighter, My breath coming in harsh breaths now as I had stopped crying. He kissed up my cheek and down again. I leaned my forehead against his, His breath cool on my damp cheeks.

[fleur-de-leap]

Even Supers Need Support

Summary: My Indigo Lantern OC Gloria comforting a stressed out Superman. 

Is this super indulgent? Absolutely. Do I care? Not in the slightest. I wanted to explore Indi and Superman’s dynamic a bit, because I can. 

Superman was viewed as the pinnacle of strength, civilians seeing him as pure and incapable of doing wrong. Well, perhaps that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but still. They held him in such high regards, trusted him so much… So honestly, Gloria shouldn’t be surprised when she found the Man of Steel, sitting alone in a dark room with his head in his hands in front of a window showing the Earth. He looked so… tired. Defeated. In all honesty, mood. 

She wasn’t sure if she should bother him, but his head lifted once he realized the door had opened, which didn’t give her much choice. 

“Oh, did you need something?” He asked, doing his best to seem like his normal self. But she saw through it. She typically did. 

“No, I’m just exploring the Watchtower some. But… are you okay?” She was hesitant to ask, pretty sure that he wasn’t, but equally as sure that he’d try to brush it off. And as she expected…

“I’m fine, I appreciate it.”

She shifted her weight in the door before walking in, letting the door close behind her as she walked over to the window. It was still strange, seeing Earth from space. Mind blowing, and kind of terrifying. However, she thankfully didn’t have the time to dwell on that right now. 

“No offense, sir, but I don’t think you are.” She said hesitantly, but didn’t look at him for now. She still saw him out of the corner of her eye though, turning his gaze away from her, looking down at his hands. He didn’t say anything yet, so she continued. 

“I realize… you’re under a lot of pressure. A lot. More than I’ll ever know. When something big happens, the people turn to you for a solution. It feels like there’s nothing you can’t do. You’re our best defense… I know it can’t be easy.” 

As she spoke, she saw his shoulders hunch more, his eyebrows furrowing and fists clenching and unclenching in his lap. Still he stayed silent, but did turn his gaze to her as she finally took a seat beside him, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged for now, elbows on her knees so she had a hunch to match his. She’s a college student after all, who cares about posture anymore? 

“But… you aren’t alone. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. Sure, we may not all be as capable, skilled, not everyone who wants to help has powers.” She took a moment to look at her right hand, where she wore her power ring. The small piece of jewelry that changed her life. “Without this ring… I’d be too scared to be outside for more than a few minutes at night. Let alone try to find the confidence to stand up to any threat. However. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from group projects, it’s that there really is a benefit to having everyone do one part than trying to do it all yourself. It’s a weight off your shoulders, and if you know you can trust the other people to do their jobs, then it typically leads to better results.” 

She paused for a moment, turning to look at him finally. She had his full attention as he looked down at her, even when hunched over like this. She was small compared to him, reminding him how small and fragile-looking humans were. But at the same time, she was right. He needed to work on trusting his teammates. Because that’s what they were, a team. 

As he was contemplating this, she sat up some and held a hand out to him, but didn’t touch him just yet. “May I?” she asked, her tone soft, somehow proving that she would listen to whatever his answer was. After he gave a nod, she gently put a hand on his arm, almost light enough he couldn’t feel it through his suit. 

“We’re all here for you, Superman. Even if we’re not particularly close, I think this is the most I’ve been able to convince myself to talk to you, we’re here because we want to help people. And you’re no exception. If you need to vent, someone to help you take a break or to take over in the meantime, a shoulder to cry on, anything. We are here for you. I am here for you. I’m always just a text away.” She assured, her eyes glistening both with sincerity, and the beginnings of unshed tears. She was supposed to embody Compassion, after all. 

As she spoke, reminding him of something he technically knew, but never fully grasped, he felt the tension leaving his body. She was right, yet again. He needs to open up a little more. Rely on the people who were there for him, who would understand what he’s going through to at least some degree. There weren’t a lot of people who could relate to the struggles of Superman, after all. 

Smiling softly at her and letting out a small chuckle, he nodded and gently put a hand over hers, giving it a very careful squeeze. “You are something else, Indi… thank you.” 

“I’m always happy to help. With anything, honestly. But this is apparently my area of expertise.” She said, shrugging casually as she lifted her right hand, not making a big deal of the fact that she was able to help a man with the world on his shoulders remember that he wasn’t protecting it alone.

Once he let go of her hand, she stood up and stretched out “I’m going to go back to exploring, but if I may be so bold, it looks like the great Superman could use a well deserved nap. You’re starting to look like me.” She joked, giving him a grin that proved it wasn’t malicious. It was genuine concern and care. He laughed with her, giving her a wave in return. He planned to sit there for a little longer to think over this conversation, but in a much better mood at least. 

As Indi left to continue familiarizing herself with the giant space station, she couldn’t help but feel pride bubbling up in her chest. She was able to comfort Superman! THE Superman! Maybe she isn’t half bad at this whole ‘compassion’ thing after all…? Either way, she’s just glad she can help. Mission Accomplished. 

[magicianmew]

In defense of staying home

Ok, I have something to say, inspired by the little mini rant I just had in response to some stuff @orriculum is dealing with and posting about, and I figured I’d just get my own damn post rather than eating hers entirely.

I follow a lot of people who are college-ish age -- kinda very late millennial, very early Gen Z. I feel like I’ve been seeing a lot of this lately.

People being pressured to travel or move far away from home to “expand their mind.” Spend a year abroad, or move to LA for your career, or whatever the fuck it is.

Gen Z, by all appearances and by all studies, seems to be a more community- and home-focused generation. I mean, makes sense honestly. It’s the generation immediately following families splitting up cross country trying to find work. Why wouldn’t you want to try to foster your communities? But apparently this is annoying to y’all’s parents.

Let me tell you something.

I am 29, and I have spent half of my adulthood traveling or living very far from home, in spates of 2 to 3 years continuously, both abroad and through my very large country.

I have been that fearless crazy bitch out here by herself with no safety net and nothing more than 5 bucks in my pocket, either on the other side of an ocean from home, or with no home left to go back to at all.

And you wanna know how I feel, at the end of all that?

If I could have lived my life over again, I would have traveled less.

Far less. I never would have gone from home for more than a month or two. And when I finally realized I was wasting my time, I moved back to my home country, went to a cool little city in the South, got a little place to myself, and settled into a nice quiet life, where I spend a lot of time with my local community. I have no desire to ever go back to that life again, and I wish I had realized that sooner, because the truth is I can’t remember any point beyond the first few months where I actually enjoyed it.

I will tell you why.

People are people no matter where you go. This apartment is not that different from that apartment. And while cultures are different, that is something it is possible to learn about to some degree at home, and whether you require a deeper understanding than what you can get at home entirely depends on what you WANT.

You will only learn what you want to learn. That is why all these yuppies who spent a year in France or whatever come home and are just as unbearable and ignorant as they were before. They didn’t wanna learn anything. They just wanted to be able to say they spent a year in France so the plebes would feel shitty about themselves.

Traveling will only “expand your mind” if that is what you are genuinely looking for from traveling.

But you can also expand your mind in school, or working for underserved communities in your area, or through hobbies, or spirituality, or doing a million other things. Fucking off to another state, or another continent is not the only way of expanding your mind. And frankly, anyone who’s gonna sit here and argue that you need to do that in order to understand things like basic human empathy and reciprocity has something wrong with them.

Our society treats traveling as a sign of social clout -- something you’re privileged enough to do, which of course makes you better and smarter than everyone else. The idiocy of this is palpable. I mean, Trump’s traveled a lot, and the man can hardly read.

Briefly, traveling does not make you more mature, or more knowledgable, or even more worldly, necessarily. It depends how you do it, and whether you’re engaged enough in the process to actually take anything in from it. And beyond that, you can do other stuff that accomplishes the same goals right where the fuck you are.

Traveling, in and of itself, is a neutral. It is not always a “better” choice.

I don’t know why this doesn’t get talked about more, because here’s the thing. I don’t think I’m the only one to reach this conclusion at the end of it all.

When you travel extensively, you meet a lot of other travelers, immigrants, and relocators. We sort of form temporary communities. And I’ll be honest: most of these communities are not very happy places.

There are a lot of people who are struggling -- financially obviously, but also mentally. Leaving your community is very hard on the mind. It’s one of the reasons it drives me mental when people say immigrants “have it easy.” Even if they stay put after they move, it takes many years for your brain to adjust. It’s hard. Really hard. Depression after moving abroad is so common as to be virtually expected.

No one likes to talk about that. At least not until they’re about 6 drinks deep. But the fact that they get 6 drinks deep often enough for it to be a regular topic of conversation kind of proves my point, eh? And, like me, most of us quit and ultimately go home. I did wind up in another state, but that was mostly because I had no family left in my birth state, and I figured I might as well go for better weather.

Despite this very obvious and common self-destructive behavior within our communities, most travelers would never admit this sort of thing to other people. And I get why -- I’ve been there. We give up a lot to live out that dream, and we have a lot of nay-sayers telling us we can’t do it. The last thing we wanna admit is that we did it, and now we’re struggling.

Everyone thinks it’s really cool and amazing, and we kind of want to let them believe that’s actually true. We kinda wanna let people believe London is more than just another dirty crowded megacity (and not even a very good one, imho...). We kinda wanna let people believe that seeing starving children or helping in war zones was all literal white-knighting, not nightmares that still keep us up at night.

And that isn’t to say there aren’t people for whom traveling or moving far from home really is for them, and the path they stay committed to and happy with. But even for them, there are some really hard parts. And there’s stuff you give up. And we don’t get to talk about that outside of our temporary communities.

But also, for many of us, we decide it wasn’t really for us, and we go home. And society treats that as shameful, somehow. As if loving our home enough to return to it is some kind of personal failing. Like... how dare we think our own community is good enough to spend time around?

But you know what? I’m still happy to be back. And I’m never leaving again.

My years traveling were an outgrowth of a childhood in which I was raised without proper, invested relationships. I didn’t know I was a community-type person, because I had never had a community. So I traveled because I didn’t know what else to do, and as a way to differentiate myself, and make it clear that I wasn’t gonna be like the shitty people I grew up around. It took me all the way until my late 20′s to figure out that all I really wanted was a home that felt like home. It took me all that time to figure out why traveling wasn’t “making me a better person” the way everyone said it would.

And although I can’t regret it, because if I hadn’t done it I might never have figured that out, I wish I’d had that knowledge about myself earlier on so I could have saved myself a lot of years of confusion and wasted time and wondering what was wrong with me that I accomplished my dream, and still wasn’t happy.

So you know what, guys?

If you wanna travel, travel. It has good points -- especially if you’re invested in the process. It can change you. It can grow you. It can help you find where you belong in life.

But if you wanna stay home and knit and hang out with your friends from high school and marry your college sweetheart and help raise kittens at your local shelter and not go anywhere for more than a week?

Fucking do that. It is going to expand your mind, and your heart, way more than any sort of social display of class privilege for taking a year in France.

[equus-swift]

So I'm just gonna vent for a bit here. My whole life my plan has been to go to vet school (literally, I found an old questionnaire from when I was like 5 years old and I said that I either wanted to be a vet or a farmer). But my plans have been put on hold for a year because of some unfortunate circumstances, but it's being sorted! Anyway. I've always wanted to go where is best for me academically and where will give me the most opportunities BUT younger me didn't know how expensive tertiary education is - especially a degree that's gonna take a while to do. And I never really thought I'd do it in my own country because most things don't work as they should here, so I just assumed I'd study somewhere else. HOWEVER, life seems to have different plans for me because this might be the only place my parents can afford - which is fine! Because, after initially being pretty apprehensive about going to school here, I went and saw it and it's not as shiny or as new as the other varsity I visited, but it has all the equipment it needs and all the necessary facilities and that's what matters. Yes, there isn't much focus on equines, it's a lot of other livestock and small animals, but that might change over the next six years, so I'm really trying to be optimistic! But everyone (which used to include myself) has this stigma that if it comes from here, it doesn't work, or it's not a legit qualification. I'm scared that people won't take me seriously because I didn't go to the fancy vet school in South Africa. But you know what? It obviously is legit! The location doesn't matter. What matters is the amount of work I'm willing to put into it. What matters is taking the time to learn extra things, to do above and beyond what's expected of me (That's just in my nature anyway). And after I'm done, I can go to England and write their exam and go on to do my masters and prove to everyone that it is actually a good faculty. This was originally going to be a post about how overwhelmed and unhappy I was, but after typing it out, I'm realising that things are actually gonna be okay!

Also. I've been contemplating going into human medicine, and when I went to visit the university, they said I had enough points to go into it if I so desired before me even mentioning I was interested! So you never know, I might do that. Honestly, I would love to do equine sports therapy/ veterinary physiotherapy and chiropractic work but unfortunately there aren't any facilities to do that here and it's too expensive to go overseas, so that really sucks. So I'm hoping to maybe ask if I can do something through correspondence while I'm at university since I've found someone who qualified in England and now works in the same city the university is in

Edit: The only thing I'm kinda sad about is that it's highly unlikely I'll have a relationship with someone while I live here. Not to generalise, but there aren't many options cause literally no one I've met is my type (quote frankly, I'm not sure what my "type" is but definitely NOT anyone I've encountered so far) Also, if I don't date who everyone expects me too, things probably won't go well for me, so there's that too. I'm not gonna have the freedom I want to explore and figure myself out. And my family is forever putting pressure on me to "have grandkids someday and find a nice husband!" you know, maybe, but I'm not so sure that's gonna happen. Maybe I don't want a husband, maybe I might, and if kids happen, cool, if they don't, that's cool too. I don't want to have kids and have them struggle like my family has had to, you know?

[douxreviews]

Jessica Jones - ‘A.K.A. Sorry Face’ Review

"I’ll come down when you’re ready for my official statement. 'Til then, I’ll be drunk."

Man, this season is really clipping along now that things are moving.

I have to admit, I expected Erik's rescue to take longer. Like, at least until next episode. And yet we clipped right through it here and landed soundly on the moral dilemma on the other side.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's start at the beginning.

When last we saw our hero, she and Trish had tracked down Sallinger's 'big tanker of body parts.' Jessica had prudently gotten Trish out of the area in order to preserve her anonymity vis a vis the local serial killer set. This all works, and I'm really enjoying how they're playing things as regards Jessica being the voice of reason who understands what portions of the system you have to work with versus Trish being chock full of newly-empowered vigilante enthusiasm. That's a thread which continues throughout this episode and I suspect is going to develop in a lot of big and unexpected ways over the rest of the season. (No spoilers, I haven't watched anything past 'Sorry Face' for the sake of not influencing my review.)

I do, however, have some questions about the logistics of the setup. Does Sallinger's family own the railyard or something? Because otherwise it's a little unusual that a tanker car in that good of condition is just hanging out uninspected and full of clever traps for the passing superhero. Those things aren't cheap, and generally aren't left unaccounted for where the general public can get to them.

Speaking of Sallinger, we got a lot of answers this episode regarding what his deal is. Apparently he has some sort of profound inferiority complex regarding his deceased brother and views anyone with super powers as having 'cheated' at becoming a better person, whereas he views himself as having 'earned' being seen as a superior person due to his intellect and all of the degrees he's worked for. OK, I'll buy that, and is anyone not assuming that he killed his brother himself? What is a little vague at this stage is what his game plan with victims typically is when they aren't superpowered. Clearly he doesn't exclusively hunt people with super powers, since Erik's having them was genuinely a surprise to him. Prior to finding that out his stated goal was to photograph 'the moment (Erik) realized his true worth,' whatever on Earth that might mean.

Is it just about demeaning people and making them feel worthless in order to feel superior about himself? Are the photographs a reminder of how bad his victims felt about themselves at that moment? Why does he appear to keep both the photographs and the body parts as trophies in separate locations? That's a little unusual for a serial killer. There are still a lot of questions about Sallinger waiting to be answered.

And I adored the detail that it was Chef Casper kissing him that freaked him out enough to leave without finishing that particular kill. That was a fascinating and humanizing detail.

Jessica once again proves that she's actually a really good PI by tracking down Erik in a completely believable way, allowing for the usual comic book plotting level of coincidence curve. But the moments when I realized why I love this character so much were three specific instances where she had absolutely no time for playing games. First when she was straightforward with Malcolm about Erik reading him as about a three on the evil scale. She didn't attempt to control his choices or how he responded to that information, but she was shooting straight from the hip on the 'you're headed down a dark path and you should be aware of that' conversation.

The second instance was of course when she had absolutely zero spare seconds for trying to help Trish hide the fact that she has super powers from her mother. Throwing her out of the window was a little on the extreme side, but it certainly brought everybody up to the same point in the conversation very, very quickly. Nice touch that Trish was wearing the traditional Hellcat color scheme for the conversation by the way; someone in wardrobe has a puckish sense of humor.

And third and lastly is the moment in the opening voiceover where Jessica admits to herself, just for a moment, that she wants to be a hero. That finding the bodies isn't just what her mother would want, it's what a hero would want. She's slowly allowing herself to view herself as heroic, and that's a big step.

Other things that were great about this one include how right Malcolm was about the correct way to handle Berry. He was absolutely right that if she didn't choose to come on her own that she would never stay. He then loses points for taking the beating of Gor way too far and then cheating on Zaya.  Berry is a fairly toxic person. There's no chance that 'causing chaos in Malcolm's relationship' wasn't at least a part of why she propositioned him.

And hey, speaking of toxic relationship interference, everything about the exchange between Jeri and Kith's son Laurent was riveting and I love how complicated and ugly the show allowed both of them to be while still keeping both of them totally relatable and pitiable.

So, Sallinger is going to be released from custody and Erik won't testify against him because that would involve a year in prison, which considering his superpower is a non-starter option. That's not un-understandable, if that's a word. Couldn't Trish testify, though? Or Chef Casper? I hope they address those questions.

Bits and Pieces:

- I used to maintain at least a small amount of empathy for Dorothy, controlling though she was. That's all gone now after the completely toxic way she responded to Trish having powers. She made it all about herself in the most damaging and hurtful way possible, and I honestly hope that she's Sallinger's next victim.

- We're all wondering how much Zaya had to do with Rand Corp leaving Jeri's firm, right? We saw her on her way to go and deal with them and the next thing we hear Rand has jumped ship. That can't be a coincidence.

- How nice to see Benowitz again and see how well he's doing now that he's out of the closet. His secret excursions to 'The Chocolate Bar' were part of the episode 'A.K.A. Ain't We Got Fun,' which was the one I reviewed during last season's round robin reviews. As a result, I'm feeling a little proprietorial about Benowitz.

- The last couple of reviews have mentioned a little uncertainty about what Jeri wants from Kith, exactly. It seems pretty clear to me that what she wants is to not die alone and she doesn't have enough time to start from scratch with a new relationship so she's taking whatever steps she has to to re-establish her relationship with Kith as the quickest route to having someone with her. This sort of implies A: that Jeri is a sociopath, and B: I may be as well.

- Sallinger's father stabbed him in the chest at a funeral luncheon? You know we're going to get more of that story.

- Jessica's reaction when Dorothy made the crack about there being better lesbians out there for Trish was priceless.

- I'm sorry, Casper, you seem like a nice guy and a decent chef. But serving a steak medium well is totally valid grounds for violent murder.

- Erik and Trish have a surprisingly fun dynamic. I hope we get more of them together.

- Jeri's interest has been piqued regarding the trainyard bodies. I wonder where that's going.

- Sallinger said 'Do you see?' to Erik at one point in the torture. That was clearly a Red Dragon shout out, right?

Quotes:

Malcolm: "A serial killer kidnapped your brother." Berry: "What?" Malcolm: "Erik might already be dead. Guess who’s next."

Jessica: "You should be scared. And worried. And pessimistic."

Dorothy: "There are much better lesbians out there."

Jessica: "I assumed that you had facial recognition software, being that you’re so well funded these days."

Dorothy: "My problem with Jessica isn’t her powers, it’s that she’s rude, violent and ungrateful."

Sallinger: "It’s me. You’re allergic to me."

A super fun episode that really got the plot clipping along at a nice pace and ended somewhere different from where I expected.

Eight out of ten reasons to be scared. And worried. And pessimistic.

---

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[chasholidays]

thanks so much for doing this again, it's always super fun!!! after much deliberation my love for the single best asshole friend murphy fic in the universe won out, and my request is "in the library of my house i have a laugh" + graduation :)

Original fic here!

If Murphy had his way, he’d never actually leave grad school.

It’s not so much that grad school is so great and more that once he leaves grad school, he needs something else to do, and that’s a terrifying prospect. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a future in academia, not with how much better everyone else in academia is at the whole thing than he is, and he can’t just coast on Jaha thinking he’s brilliant forever. And if he’s not in academia, he doesn’t know what else to do. Somehow, horrifyingly, that’s all he knows.

“Maybe a self-help book,” says Emori. “Isn’t that how people with philosophy degrees and no other skills make money?”

“I think we just starve to death,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to have an existential crisis, but it might be unavoidable.

“I still don’t know why you’re so convinced you can’t get a job here,” Emori says. “Jaha isn’t the only one in the department who likes you.”

“Yeah, but can you imagine me as a teacher? Fuck, I don’t want to have the read the bullshit I write, fuck student papers. TAing was a nightmare, and I don’t want to publish research.”

“If only they had an open position for a visionary.”

“I think that’s Jaha too.” He huffs. “You got an idea for that self-help book? I think it only works if I’m actually successful.”

“You have a PhD and minimal student debt. That’s success to many.”

“Probably better to just skip it and be a bartender,” he grumbles, and she kisses his forehead.

“We might be hiring.”

“Awesome, keep me posted.”

*

The thing is, Murphy understands his skills. He’s decent at bullshitting, and he’s not actually a bad writer. He’s definitely engaging, and people like listening to him talk. He’s not exactly competent, but he’s good at surviving. Grad school seemed like a good thing, but now he’s supposed to go into the world and use what he’s learned, except he hasn’t really learned anything, and he doesn’t have any more idea what he should be doing than he did when he decided he might as well get his PhD.

“This is going to sound extreme,” says Bellamy, “but did you think about asking Jaha?”

“How dare you,” he says, reflexive. Then he actually thinks about it. “Asking him what?”

“He’s your adviser. In theory, he’s supposed to help you get a job.”

“That sounds fake.”

Bellamy shrugs, easy. At this point, he’s basically the poster-boy for academic success: not only do he and Clarke both have jobs in their fields, and said jobs are close enough together that they’re on track to be married and start in on their future as functioning human beings in the next year or so. Bellamy even proposed, which, like, it’s not like either Murphy or Emori wants to get married, but he honestly wasn’t expecting Bellamy and Clarke to be so on top of this whole thing.

It’s not a competition, because their idea of a happy future is completely different from Murphy’s. But he’s used to being able to feel a lot more smugly superior to them, and having to admit they seem good while he’s struggling is kind of fucking with his head.

“I’m not saying it’s a miracle fix,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t know what kind of career advice Jaha would give. But if he wants to hire you, you probably want to find out about that now.”

“You think I could be a professor?”

He makes a face. “No. But I didn’t think you could get a PhD, I’m not counting anything out.”

At least his continued success upsets someone. That’s something he’s got going for him. “Guess it’ll at least be interesting,” he says. “Always wanted to know what Jaha actually thought I was going to do with all this shit.”

“If you find out, let us know,” Bellamy grumbles.

Murphy raises his glass. “There’s always drinking myself to death.”

“If that hasn’t killed you yet, it probably never will,” says Gina, as he drains it.0

“Not with that attitude it won’t,” says Emori, and refills his drink.

So at least she’s still on his side.

*

“So, I was wondering if you had any career advice,” Murphy asks. It’s probably the only practical thing he’s ever said to Jaha, and he doesn’t like it. They don’t have real conversations. Jaha drones and Murphy snarks. It’s a really good dynamic. “Since I’m graduating soon.”

“Oh, you won’t need a career,” says Jaha, which is honestly the most terrifying thing he’s ever said to Murphy. And that’s a fucking competitive category.

“I like having food and shelter,” he says.

“John, the end is coming. Soon enough, the entire nature of society will change. In the new world, you won’t need employment.”

“Oh.”

“In the new world, people like us will–” he starts, and that’s a good sign that it’s safe for him to stop listening for a while. He nods and smiles and when he hears, “You should ask your girlfriend about this,” he makes a note to tell Emori that she’s still passing for a robot.

“Okay, so–great,” he says, once Jaha has finally wound down. “Really helpful. Thanks.”

“If you need a letter of recommendation in the meantime, just let me know,” he says, shockingly upbeat. He’s really excited for the robot uprising. “I’m always happy to help.”

“Yeah. Definitely want you vouching for me,” he mutters, and resists the urge to slam the door behind him.

*

It’s not as if Murphy is going to fall into immediate poverty once he’s done with school. Honestly, he’s still in pretty decent shape. He and Emori have a crappy apartment that suits them fine, and he’s still got his odd assortment of part-time jobs, including one he’s picking up at the bar. He’s going to get by.

But there is this weird, annoying, stubborn part of him that thinks he should be using his degree, and that sucks.

“It’s not like I wanted it,” he tells Emori and Gina. “Like, fuck, I was just doing it because I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“You were not,” says Emori. It’s one of the problems with actually having a girlfriend who gets him. “You wanted to prove you could do it, and you did.”

“I did, yeah. So now what?”

“I think you should become a YouTube personality,” says Gina. “That seems like a good fit for you.”

“Huh. I’m listening. Tell me more. What do I do as a YouTube personality?”

“Get high and talk about your thesis, like always.”

“How does that make money?”

“Set up a Patreon,” says Emori.

He shrugs. “What the hell, can’t hurt. Add it to the list.”

*

Murphy doesn’t really have much by way of family, and while he could theoretically invite his racist grandma to his graduation, he’d rather just go on never speaking to her because she’s a fucking asshole. And not in the cool way like he is.

So, instead, he will be celebrating his graduation with his ragtag group of asshole friends, and he’s a little bit emotional about it.

It’s the worst.

Bellamy, being a cook, an officially sanctioned adult, and the most mom-like person Murphy has ever met who is not actually anyone’s biological mother, is making dinner, and everyone else is bringing booze, and they’re having a big party to celebrate the fact that Murphy has somehow conned his way into a graduate degree. So long as he can avoid any accidental, unintentional displays of emotion, he should be fine.

The last thing he wants is for any of his friends to realize he values and loves them.

“If I start getting weird, I need you to take me out,” he tells Emori. “I assume you have tranq darts on you.”

“I have mace.”

“Close enough. If it seems like I’m going to say anything nice to anyone, just mace me.”

“How nice is nice?”

“I trust your judgement.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake,” she says, bright. “I am happy for you, John. I’m glad you were able to do this.”

“Yeah, me too. Now I just have to do something else.”

“Until my kind take over and you become our slaves,” she says, grinning.

“Yeah, do you have a date for that or anything? It would be great if I could plan around the robot uprising.”

“When you least suspect it,” she says.

“Fuck, then it’s never going to happen.”

All of the gang who could make it is at Bellamy and Clarke’s, which is a pretty decent number. They’ve dwindled in numbers over the years, as people have graduated and moved away, but they still have a pretty strong core friend group, and they’ve all come together to celebrate him.

Which is why he needs Emori on mace duty. It’s a very risky situation, emotionally speaking.

Clarke opens the door with an open bottle of whiskey in her hand. “For you,” she says. “You’re graduating, we figured you’d want to just drink directly from the bottle.”

“I want to do that when I’m not graduating,” he points out. But he does take the bottle and take a swig, because that’s what he’s about. “This is actually good whiskey.”

“It’s almost like we’re friends,” says Clarke. “Come on in.”

Miller and Monty are already around, with Gina and Raven on their way. It’s a smaller, more manageable group of people than they’ve had in the past, and it feels like the one that might stick. Couples are easier, it feels like, and they’re all pretty motivated to stay together and in the same place.

He takes another sip of whiskey. These are the thoughts he doesn’t need to be having. Not when alcohol exists.

“I’m going to go help Bellamy in the kitchen,” says Emori. “John, if you need to be maced, just yell.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows, and he shrugs it off. “Inside joke. Monty’s got video games?”

“Lots of video games.”

“Awesome. Thanks for having a party for me,” he adds, against his better judgement. “This is cool.”

“Bellamy’s head might actually explode when you get your diploma,” she says. “So we’re celebrating now.”

“Before he dies?”

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” she agrees. “Video games are in the living room.”

And that’s how it goes. He takes his whiskey and plays Mario Kart with his friends, and everyone swears a lot and drinks a lot, and once the food is done they eat a lot, and at the end of the meal, toasts go around in his honor. Clarke and Bellamy present him with a lifetime achievement award for worst adviser, and Monty plays a song he made with autotune and the best of Jaha’s weird voice messages.

He might say a few kind words himself, even. His breath might even hitch.

“You were supposed to mace me,” he tells Emori, on their way back. Everyone hugged when they were leaving. It was a lot.

“I was,” she says, completely unrepentant. “I didn’t. It was a nice evening. You like our friends, and I’m happy for you.”

“Jesus. Maybe I should mace you.”

She smiles, squeezes his hand. “It won’t happen again,” she promises. “Just this once.”

*

“So, I’m graduating now, you can tell me,” says Murphy. “This is all an act, right?”

Jaha blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“You had something else going on, right? You’re not actually like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean, John.”

“Do you really think I’m a philosophical genius, or was this some weird prank? Is this a She’s All That deal? One of the other professors made a bet with you?”

“Of course not. All I wanted was for you to realize your potential.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

“I consider you one of my great successes.”

“As long as you’re happy.” He shrugs, feeling a little awkward. “Thanks, I guess. For everything. This was–cool.”

“I look forward to meeting you again in the new world,” Jaha says, and offers his hand.

There’s nothing to do but shake it.

“May we meet again,” he says, and that’s it.

He gets his diploma and hangs it on the wall behind the desk in the living room, where he’s been filming his new YouTube series, “Dr. John Murphy’s Guide to the Robot Apocalypse.” Some people in the comments have been doubting his credentials, and he’s looking forward to rubbing it in their faces.

And, he has to say, it looks good up there. Like it really belongs.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Encyclopedia Biblica

Gabriel x Reader

Summary: After trying to revive your Dad and Uncle you accidentally unlock a gate between Pugatory, Heaven, Hell and Earth... After realizing the mess you’ve made can’t be cleaned up by just yourself, you go to the only people you have left in your life asking for help. Say hello to the new Team Free Will.

Warnings: Talk of Suicide, Death, Angst, Crying.

A/N: So I wrote this towards the end of boarding school and the whole idea for the series came from a situation and conversation I was imaging, as no one in the SPN fandom has ever really phrased the said conversation in the way I have. The conversation isn’t in this chapter or for a lot more chapters. I actually think I’ve lost the rest of the story besides the first couple of lines of the next chapter... I really hope I can find it though because it was honestly really great and despite the fact that no one really pays attention to my SPN stuff I liked this idea.

“Fine, I have one more offer for you Darling and then we’re done here: I’ll help you, if you become Queen of Hell and reign by my side” he smirks as he taps his fingers on the table. I stare across the table, contemplating the offer; I let out a big laugh tilting my head back, eventually looking back to him.

“Really Crowley? Are you serious? Did you actually think I’d accept that?! I mean, come on- really? If I can’t trust Heaven, and I can’t trust the devil I don’t know- why would I trust the devil I do know?” I continue to laugh before flick a strand of my hair over my shoulder, “Don’t answer- I’m sorry, I just- I can’t believe you actually thought I’d go for that... I mean, what? You contract me to be married to you and reign over hell for all eternity- no! Until I die, and then you’d just kill me so my side of the deal would never have to be dealt with!” I pause for a second, “I can say it’s not a bad idea- but no thanks”

“you know you can’t do it on your own Y/N- don’t be daft” he scolds me as a warning while I turn around and start walking away; I smirk at the thought before rethinking: is this really such a bad deal? Yes. Yes it is- you know what Dad would say, he’d tell you that ‘Any deal Crowley offers you when you’re in a bad place isn’t a good deal- even if it seems like it is at the time. I become determined as I think of them- my Dad... My Uncle.

I can and will do it by myself... I will.

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

I collect the reagents in the bowl and look over the spell again... Today is the day I think to myself as I look up at the sky- it’s definitely looking like a storm is on the way. The tall grass in the field I currently stand in is starting to sway with the gusts of wind periodically drifting through, growing greater and greater with each new gust. Thunder rumbles in the distance and I count the seconds between the thunder and lightning: one Mississippi- two Mississippi- three Mississippi it looks like it’s close by- perfect.

As the lightning approaches I pour the gasoline in the bowl and strike a match to toss in- this should be it. My fear, hope and wonder swell inside me as I smile, awaiting the lightning to strike precisely in a minute or so. Looking down at the two tombstones we planted four months ago in remembrance and commemoration for the work that they’d done- my family. My Dad and Uncle, they were all I’d had... and now I was alone.

Thirty seconds pass, the thunder seems to rumble exactly overheard. I stand in the grey, dark atmosphere the storm has projected onto the Earth. The hillside is dark, I stand by a big willow tree with huge roots protruding throughout the ground around it. The wind gives me a prick of anxiety throughout my gut as it blows my hair around in wafts that fail to seize with the wind. The tall greenish yellow grass around my ankles blows in all directions as the atmosphere changes to something I imagine would happen before a tornado strikes down.

I process it when it’s too late... the lightning strikes around me and I fly back, landing near a tree. I feel fried... my brain feels tingly; I lie on the ground staring up at the stormy sky- Did it work? I try to sit up and look around, but fail to move an inch. I feel the tears well up in my eyes as I know now that I’ve failed- this was all for nothing- the last thing I hear is the faint buzz of my phone ringing a few feet away where it’d fallen out of my pocket during the strike.

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My head pulses in waves as I blink slowly, the bright light hurts my eyes as I eventually gather the strength to open them. I see Gabriel sitting next to my side on the couch, looking to my right I see that we’re in the living room back at the Bunker. “What happened?” my voice comes out grumbly and hoarse as I sit myself up against the arm of the couch.

Gabriel shakes his head and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up, “What did you think you were doing Y/N? You could’ve killed yourself if I hadn’t found you!” Gabriel chastises me as I look to my left-into the Library- not wanting to meeting the anger and disappointment in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter... it didn’t work” I sigh as I look down at my hands intertwined, resting in my lap, “thank you for saving me though,” I whisper as I look up into his eyes half-smiling; the anger within his eyes starts to diminish some as I stare into his fierce, caramel eyes.

“Just tell me this- were you trying to kill yourself?” Gabriel whispers in reply, he looks like he’s about to cry, though I’ve never seen him cry before, so who knows.

“No!” I exclaim with my hands as I look at him shocked he’d even suggest such a thing, “What are you? Cra-”

“Crazy? Sometimes. But honestly, Y/N, what the hell? Don’t give me that look- it makes sense, your Dad and Uncle just died and so, I don’t know- maybe you thought you had this grand idea and since you were in just the right mindset it seemed rational, hey- hear me out, look at me. I’m not saying that’s what you did, I’m just saying that’s what it looks like- that’s what I thought, okay?”

Gabriel explains calmly, making me question if despite my intentions, maybe I was actually trying to somehow put myself in the right situations to get myself killed. “Especially when I found you like that” he whispers so low I almost don’t hear him.

No, I wasn’t- I know what I was doing and I was doing it for the right reasons “Okay,” I say grumpily trying to avoid the conversation. I tuck my legs in so they won’t hit Gabriel when I get up from the couch. I walk to the kitchen, “How long was I out for?”

I hear Gabriel get up and follow me, “Three days,” I stop dead in my tracks, making him bump into my back. I turn around hastily.

“What?”

“Three days- you were out for three days. I healed you, I made sure you were alive and alright.” I bite my lower lip and try to swallow the lump in my throat; I walk through the doorway into the kitchen, not even feeling hungry but wanting something to do- Gabriel follows.

I open the fridge, quickly scanning it- Everything’s probably expired anyways I sigh and close it, I turn around to see Gabriel sitting on the edge of the table with one of his knees bent so his foot in on the tabletop. “What? What do you want Gabriel?”

His questioning look quickly turns to sorrow as he opens his mouth to reply, “For you to take care of yourself”

“I am”

“Unless you just happen to somehow not be hungry after three days of being KO’d, I think you should eat something” Gabriel suggests in the fatherly tone he uses on me when I’m obviously putting aside human necessities for arbitrary purposes, or not so arbitrary purposes in my mind. Not even to mention being told to take care of myself by an angel alone-not to mention archangel- just annoys me to some degree because Gabriel doesn’t even have to worry about hunger, let alone many other things.

“Everything’s expired, okay? I know it is”

“you expect me to believe everything in there is expired Y/N? Really?”

“No, but I know for a fact that it is Gabriel! I haven’t been back here,” I sigh as I feel sadness start to build in my belly, my face starting to get hot at the thought of tears.

“You mean since-” Gabriel starts but I finish,

“Since they died? Yeah... I mean since they died! I couldn’t bear to come back here so I’ve been drifting around.” I feel a few tears slip down my face and I turn away, he can’t see me cry- I wipe away the tears trying to gather myself together before turning back around. Quickly composing myself I rejoin the conversation. 

Gabriel smirks as he zaps a sandwich onto the table, gesturing to it smugly. i hate when he does this- he tries to manipulate me with his powers and abilities. I sigh and repeatedly look from the sandwich to him, back to the sandwich- should I take it? “Yes, you should” Gabriel says as I grab the plate and walk back into the ‘living/war room’.

“Where are you going?” 

“If I want to get everything back together then I have to be productive, at least go out and get groceries, duh” I say with a bit of the sandwich in my mouth; I grab my jacket off the back of the couch and turn around ready to leave, putting my pointer fingers around the keys in my jacket and pull them out, swinging them for emphasis that I can in fact take care of myself.

I freeze as I feel dread, guilt and shame fill my chest... flashbacks of the night they died come to the front of my mind at the thought of driving my father’s car. I have to do this... maybe if I can just prove to Gabe that I can take care of myself he’ll leave me alone.

Gabriel’s face changes to an expression of sorrow for a second before he snaps his fingers- “There, you don’t have to get groceries- it’s done- everything you’d need, or want is in the fridge”

“Gabriel! Just stop- I don’t want your help, okay? This is on me! I don’t need your help! I don’t need you to do basic things I can do for my goddamn grown-ass self! I don’t deserve it anymore... maybe you shouldn’t have saved me” I set the half eaten sandwich down on the side table next to the couch before taking my jacket back off and going to the one place I feel myself. “I just want to be alone, okay?” I call back over my shoulder, hoping he understands he’s not wanted.

I leave Gabriel standing sad and alone in the living room as I walk to my room in the Bunker, right down the same hall the Library is connected to; I start to cry as I close my bedroom door. I feel my breaths becoming heavy as I strip myself of the three day old clothing and walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower, then turning it back off... too much effort.

I throw on a big t-shirt, crawling into my bed and crying... just go to sleep Y/N, just go to sleep.