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rose2jam · 3 years ago

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Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam

So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults. I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever. This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.

A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.

So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something. The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies. But this Leader? This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way. Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered. That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.

Any of this sounding familiar?

Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others. Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families. Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in. He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them. I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.

So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever. But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin. Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside. And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him. Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader. Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded. Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above. Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).

Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.

Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters. He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1). Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be. Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her. (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well). I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.

Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life. And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical. Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back. For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental. This friendship is everything. Why wouldn’t he love her?

So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts. Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life. But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up. Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black. So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3). And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat. And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4). What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.

Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience. He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible. During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place. It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5). But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6). He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus. On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily. So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.

So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this? He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers). But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members. McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol). So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles. As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with. His dorm mates became his family. So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily. Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic? Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?

On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8). At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word. He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds. Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse. So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.

Severus had been beaten down his entire life. By Muggles and Magic Folk alike. And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light. He betrayed her as well, of course. But he did try to show remorse. And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.

So. Who does he have left?

I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here. Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate. For what? For power, for a family, for a community. For a world where he is no longer the weird one. For a world where he’s respected, strong. For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.

And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.

Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult. Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House. Maybe he was recruited directly. Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life. And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.

Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions. There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play. Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right. (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)

The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family. Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult. On the contrary, I feel sorry for them. Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them. Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”. But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end. They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.

I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953

Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116

It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.

Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart. I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done. But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.

Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany. This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers. There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2. Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware. As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family. The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks. Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?

Sorry. Back to Snape. There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation. This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this). Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.

Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however. In the end, he manages to break away from the cult. The scales fall from his eyes. In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off. What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life. He was brought back by genuine love. Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.

#Snape Meta #Severus Snape #Pro Snape #Snapedom #Snape Community #This will be the TRUE test of the tags #Essay Jam #Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years ago

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So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it.

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.”

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take.""

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”"

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior.

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

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woodrokiro · 3 years ago

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Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years ago

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Whumping Safely 101

Many people in this community have mental health problems, face various types of discrimination, and have complicated relationships with some parts or types of whump. In particular, I aim this at people who care about the experience of survivors and others with triggers – partially because I am an abuse survivor who often flirts with triggering content as part of my love of whump.

Keeping your blog safe is difficult, takes effort, and is never a perfect process. But as the community grows and grows, it’s really important that we hold ourselves to a high standard. I would argue that this is a responsibility of all content creators, but especially those of us in the messy playground of whump.

I’ve got three sections in here: content warnings, writing with care, and community interaction. I’ve tried to make it navigable. It’s about 1.8k words. Shorter than a lot of drabbles! I welcome good-faith criticism on this topic and further questions on my own views.

Content Warnings

The biggest responsibility, in my opinion, is empowering your reader to make their own decision on whether they want to expose themselves to your writing. This also happens to be by far the easiest way to help people whump safely.

What to warn

This is a big and ever-changing topic. Some things you should warn for as a rule of thumb are anything NSFW, pet whump and box boy whump, drugs and alcohol, medical and hospital content, graphic gore, intimate partner violence, and animal harm. It can be tricky to draw the line of what counts – what needs a warning? If you’re in doubt, just warn it anyway. It doesn’t hurt.

If someone requests a trigger be warned for, even if it’s something that feels obscure or tame, show compassion and agree to the request. This is someone who cares enough about being able to read your writing that they wrote in! They want to be able to read it and enjoy it. You’re being complimented.

Otherwise, look at what other blogs tag for. You’ll see some variation in styles and levels of detail, but it’s a good way to gauge what people think is warn-worthy, when we’re often writing stuff that would already be R-rated in mainstream media.

The easiest way to make sure people don’t see your triggering content is to use a cut. Tumblr is not a very functional website and likes to delete cuts, but a cursory check of your posted content will usually tell you whether it’s worked. With asks, cuts are very spotty, so don’t be afraid to post an ask response separately with a screengrab of the original question. People often then respond to the ask itself with a link to the post, especially if it’s a whole drabble. Tumblr is weird and bad so just do your best.

Content notices

I.e., a quick summary before the drabble, usually in bold, to state what will be coming. I like to distinguish between using content notes (CN) and trigger warnings (TW) to indicate severity. Others might use the old phrase ‘dead dove do not eat’ to indicate this is a heavy piece, and often you will see qualifiers like ‘intense’, ‘mild’, ‘mention’, ‘referenced’ (i.e. it is discussed but not actively happening), and ‘implied’ (as the opposite of ‘explicit’). I’ve also seen a couple of people use ‘vibes’, which is a really nice way of demonstrating that it’s there, but not the focus. A quick paragraph like this, or just a line, lets people make a quick risk assessment on their reading.

This is also important if you’re sending in asks or requests to people. If you want to ask about something triggering, send an inquiry first about whether the blog is okay to hear it.

Tagging

Tagging is a chore, but it’s your primary way of warning people about your content. The main benefit of tagging is that you can be as detailed as you want, because can be tagging for content in general, not just triggers.

In a best case scenario, you’d tag the kind of whump you’re doing, tag triggers, tag characters, and even your ‘verses, because tagging is your index for your blog. If you tag reliably, you help your future self and your readers find stuff, and you also make your blog really dang safe. People who have unusual triggers can blacklist tags, and will pick up on your content tags to help them.

Don’t just tag your own writing. Tag your reblogs, tag your prompts, tag your asks. Yes, edit your asks to add the tags. Tag your images and gifs. Tag your images as images and your gifs as gifs.

If you aren’t up for detailed tagging for whatever reason, just tag for triggering content, and add stuff to that list if you’re asked to. My usual technique is to make a mental note of tags while I’m formatting and editing before posting.

Be aware that your first five tags will be used in search results. If you’re using tags that are associated with kink too, such as ‘shibari’, you might want to rethink your tag order if you don’t want interaction from those blogs. Also think about what tags might come up in non-whump contexts, such as ‘collar’ or ‘PTSD’. Some tactics for getting around this I’ve seen are adding ‘whump’ after the content or writing the tags in past tense (i.e., ‘collared’).

It is also a good idea to watch out for when you might be reblogging something whumpy that is intended as kink / porn / fetish, especially in images. Tagging these as spicy / nsfw / kink is a sensible move.

Writing with Care

Okay, now for the harder stuff.

I mean here to lay out some guidelines for how to write in a way that helps your reader build good faith. This is a much more nuanced topic, and it’s different for everyone. There will always be differing opinions on what should and shouldn’t be written about, what a good depiction of a sensitive topic is, and how to discuss that topic. I tried to strip this back into absolute basics that I hope we can all agree on.

Maybe your whump involves abuse. Maybe it’s gaslighting. Maybe it’s severe mental health problems, or addiction, or slavery, or you write about or analogise real-world issues. Whump deals with the dark stuff, and that’s a big part of its appeal. But don’t ever forget you’re writing the dark stuff.

(Try to) Know what you’re doing

Some of us play fast and loose with plots, medical accuracy, worldbuilding, and other things that get in the way of the pain we crave. This is all well and good, but when we start using whump that speaks true to people’s lived experiences, we shouldn’t be careless with it. I’m particularly talking about things that get represented poorly in mainstream media, such as abusive relationships, issues around marginalisation, mental illness and disability.

Be critical of media that you’ve consumed. Think about how its depicted things that you want to depict in turn. Look for opinions on fictional representations of those issues. Be aware that you might be more ignorant of things than you realise.

Look at how others are writing these issues, particularly if they’re writing from a perspective different to yours. If you haven’t personally experienced what you’re writing about, e.g., if you don’t have PTSD and you want to depict a character who does, seek out stuff written from or with experience. Listen to the experts.

If you’re looking for stuff about representation specifically, I recommend this collection of posts about ‘Braving Diversity’ cultivated by Writing With Colour, who are in themselves a fantastic resource for this topic, and have recommendations for other blogs that deal with intersecting issues.

Listen to others

Missteps are inevitable. Nobody is perfect. If constructive criticism is offered, that’s also a compliment to your writing. Someone read your work and thought about it, and thought you’d care about improving it. They’re offering themselves as a resource for helping you see your work in a new light.

Criticism is hard and sometimes hurtful, but even if we don’t think it’s accurate, there’s often a grain of truth in it. If someone tells you that your writing is harmful, think about why they’ve said that, not whether or not they’re correct. This is an opinion! Opinions are subjective! But what drove someone to send that in?

You don’t have to respond to all your criticism and definitely don’t respond straight away. Being respectful to those who are trying to help you means taking the time to consider it properly. Sometimes, they don’t need a response. Others, you might want to learn more about what they think before deciding. You might have already discussed the topic, in which case, you might just want to reblog your previous posts.

If it’s sent in bad faith or is outright hateful, you’re well within your rights to just delete it and move on. You might get the same criticism over and over again, and that’s exhausting, and you don’t have to retrace your steps for everyone.

But if it’s new, even if it puts your hackles up, you can always stop and wonder why someone felt that strongly about your work.

Take a step back

One of my better-known characters is a pet whumper who conditioned his victim to adore and depend on him. It’s not always easy to represent how deeply messed up that is within the text – though I think that’s part of the challenge – but in meta-commentary, I am always describing him as a creeptastic bastard lacking compassion and self-reflection. I hope to always give the reader the confidence that I know just how wrong it is.

This is a really simple thing you can do just to give readers good faith in you. Show that you know what you’re writing is dark and messed up. Show your understanding for the issues you’re handling and that they’re complicated. It might seem self-evident, but when you’re writing the really dark stuff, or unhealthy relationships, or institutionalised whump, you can inadvertently create the impression that you just think it’s fun. The fact that it’s fiction does not automatically absolve you. Show that you care about doing it right.

Community Interaction

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet because I will almost entirely be preaching to the choir here.

Be polite to others. Imagine saying what you’re saying to their face.

Don’t send anon hate. Just don’t. If you can send criticism off anon, do so.

Nobody is obligated to interact with you.

Nobody is obligated to monitor their own reader base.

If someone says do not interact, do not interact.

If someone says do not interact, why they’ve said that is none of your business.

You don’t need to spread the word about someone’s bad politics.

Ask yourself if your input is needed, or if what you’ve said has already been said.

You don’t have to take a side.

Take care of yourself. Take breaks. Remind yourself that whump is a small part of the world.

That’s all from me, folks. Stay safe.

#discourse...adjacent?#whump community #whump etiquette

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pocketsizeddemon · 5 years ago

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Partners in Crime

I was listening to Set It Off's Partners In Crime and this happened. Enjoy~

1.5k words, AO3

“Did you see the bullshit on this morning’s newspapers?” you said as you passed the aforementioned newspaper to Jaehyun. It read:

The real-life Joker and Harley Queen have struck again. The famous criminal couple, that remains unidentified, have succeeded in yet another bank robbery. The police are baffled as there seem to be no clues so far to help with the investigations. Expert criminologists call their robberies proper “works of art” as they seem to be perfectly executed.

Jaehyun sighed. Of all the things that those idiots could nickname you, why did it have to be that? “Bonnie and Clyde are right there! Whatever the hell makes them think that I’m a deranged lunatic that abuses his wife? …At least they got you right. You definitely are a hot genius.” He commented with a crooked smile that made his dimples show.

“Must be because you’re calling me baby doll all the time” you replied, sticking your tongue out to him. “Works of art though.” you bit your lip as you quoted the article. “Now that’s a compliment. I wonder if they’re saying the same when they’re writing their reports.”

“Well we’ll never have to worry about that now, don’t we baby doll?” he answered sweetly. Mock him all you may but he knew how much this little nickname made your heart flutter. He stood up to hug you and rest his forehead on yours. “They don’t know who we are my beloved, we’re ghost walking among the streets, we leave no traces, and even if they do find us, they’ll never take us alive.”

Truth be told, you’ve been carrying the oath you gave on your wedding day long before you actually married. Until death do us part was always part of your relationship since the beginning. Jaehyun was a bank employee and you were the secretary of the bank’s manager in the same bank when you first met. The beginning of your romance was sweet, like all other love stories. There weren’t exactly any money problems you faced and there weren’t any rumors about you two being a thing but you both hated the situation for various reasons. Jaehyun’s patience broke the day you came home furious because the greasy old manager had touched you inappropriately.

It was a few days later that Jaehyun ‘died in a car accident’ and a few more days until a ‘fire of unknown origin’ broke down in your apartment, strangely both leaving your ‘bodies’ conveniently unrecognizable. It was a genius beginning to your plan. No one could arrest a dead man after all. A week later, your legacy as lovers and partners in crime began with a perfectly executed murder and the heist of the bank that you two used to work at. The murder of the manager was a little unnecessary but Jaehyun wouldn’t let the asshole that groped you walk around unpunished. Plus the element of fear was a good way to shut everyone up and made sure they’d behave.

You’d never forget that day. As you felt Jaehyun’s arms around you and his lips on your forehead, you could still hear bits and pieces from that fateful evening.

Everybody freeze!

Nobody move, or we will shoot.

Empty out the vault and please, put the money in the bag so my doll and I can be on our way.

And so your lives like spoiled royalties began. You had forged fake identities, it being insanely easy with all your new-found wealth. From there the sky was the limit. Expensive hotel suites, art heists, pricey jewelry and clothes, more bank robberies and of course, your wedding with the love of your life.

“Jae?” you sweetly blinked up to him, “I love you.”

“I love you too baby doll.” He answered as he leaned down for a kiss. You took a look at his curved lips, dimples showing just for you. Standing up on the tips of your toes as you reached for the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours. He kissed you softly, yet passionately, still knocking the breath out of your chest in the most comfortable. He slowly pushed you towards the bed, his hand falling to either side of the pillow to keep himself from crushing you.

“Does my beloved queen want her well-earned jewels?” Jaehyun had developed an interesting kink since the beginning of your controversial career. Said kink was buying you expensive jewelry and having you wear them in bed. You rolled your eyes at his suggestion and slanted your lips over his before wriggling under him to go pick something out. His favourite piece was an extravagant body chain adorned with Swarovski crystals and you decided to wear that, picking a not so little extra piece.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t get off to this new kink of his, the thrill kicking in, and through it, you also realized that you loved it when Jaehyun wore rings in bed. There was just something sexy about feeling the cold metal on your skin contrasting his warm touch. Now wearing only the body chain and holding a marvelous gold ring for Jae, you seductively walked towards the bed.

His reaction was instant, something carnal and dangerous glowing in his eyes, a dark and lust-ridden low grunt rumbling from his chest. He made a move to get up, as he was resting on the headboard in just his boxers, but before he could make a move, you straddled his lap. You offered him the ring and he caressed the chain that adorned your body.

“No matter what you wear, you’re always a goddess to me. But damn is it wonderful to see you like this.” His hands went to your hips, roaming the soft skin and making you shudder. He pulled you in for a kiss, your hips moving involuntarily against his growing erection. His kisses traveled lower to your jaw, neck, and chest and as your noises grew needier, so did he grow hungrier for you.

“Jae” you moaned out his name. “I want to ride you tonight.” You said pushing his hair back as he was focused on sucking one of your nipples. His dick twitching was enough of an answer for you and soon he was fully naked, the tip grazing your wet folds. You slowly took him in, breathless moans dropping from your lips as he stretched you out.

The delicate chain moved with every small grind and breath you took, making Jaehyun feel mesmerized. He was trying really hard to keep his composure but your body drove him crazy. He started meeting your pace, his hands trailing the small of your back.

“Fuck!” you moaned as he met your hips with a, particularly hard thrust. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you tried to ride him at a steady pace, but with every grind, he met you halfway and hit places that were making you lose your mind. He loved letting you call the shots, but it seemed like he was coming unhinged.

He didn’t give you any warning as he grabbed your hips and lifted you up. His fingers squeezed the sensitive skin as he thrust up relentlessly, making you leave out a cry that was full of pain and pleasure. That familiar knot began to tighten in your stomach as you felt every inch of him, getting you closer to your peak and sure to leave you sore the next morning.

Your nails left scratches on his shoulders, as your hands moved to grab the headboard behind his head for support. You could only relent as he fucked you hard and fast, the sound of the bed creaking combined with his deep growls and your wanton moans as lust overtook both of you.

His teeth latched onto your breast, biting down on the sensitive spot as he continued to ravage you. Every nerve in your body was screaming for release and one particularly hard thrust had you coming undone on his cock. You screamed as your orgasm hit you, tightening around him, your legs wrapping like a vice around his waist. He gripped your hips harder and thrust faster as he chased his own high and sent you into delicious oversensitivity. You couldn’t do anything but whimper as he spilled his seed inside you, a low growl leaving his lips.

The comedown was sweet, it always was. Jaehyun muttering sweet nothings in your ear as he left soft fluttery kisses all over neck and face making you feeling fuzzy. He helped you remove the now insanely uncomfortable chain and cleaned you up before lying down next to you. As he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck, you let out a soft chuckle.

“Hey baby?” you said with a sleepy yet sinister smile. “Can I bring out the cuffs next time?” He pulled back just a little bit with a worried expression that soon turned into a smirk.

“I’ll let you do your worst, baby doll,” he stated before kissing you goodnight.

#nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jung jaehyun #smut #partners in crime #criminal couple #bank robbery

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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[yourheaventonight]

Where have you been all my life? I’ve always been right here.

Can you recite the Greek alphabet backwards? Nope. Or at all.

What social networks are you a part of? Like every main one.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? I’m not a total expert on anything.

What is one thing you will never understand? Why I’m like this.

Do you blog? This is it.

What was the last movie you watched? Godzilla vs Kong.

^Would you recommend it? Yeah, I enjoyed it. Admittedly, I was mainly interesting for Alexander Skarsgard, but I did think the movie was good.

With whom did you share your last awkward moment? My life is an awkward moment.

When was the last time you got all dolled up? It’s been yearsss.

Gimme yer best shot and insult me. Go ahead. Uh, no.

What do you think makes a person attractive? Physical attributes, certainly, but personality traits and who they are as a person makes a person attractive to me as well. Even more so.

Out of everyone you know, who has the worst taste in music? I don’t think anyone I know has bad taste in music, I share a lot of the same music taste.

^How about the best? ^^^

Can guys REALLY pull off skinny jeans? They can wear whatever they want.

What is one thing you missed out on that you wish you hadn't? I missed out on a lot of my 20s I feel like, it feels like a complete blur. I don’t know what happened to them. And now I’m in my 30s and I feel like I’m missing out on those, too. Just life, in general for the past several years. Everyone around is me is doing things and living life and I’m just wasting away.

What was the last thing/place you decorated? My room for Christmas.

Have you just recently started listening to any new bands? No. It’s been a long time since I’ve discovered any new bands.

How many windows/tabs are open on your computer right now? Two windows, 7 tabs.

Would you rather date someone really skinny or really overweight? I want to date someone based on other things.

Let me in on a little secret of yours. Nah.

What is one habit you had as a child? Nail biting/picking.

^Do you still have that habit today? Sigh, yes.

Is there someone you wish you were closer with? Yes.

^What's stopping you from being closer with them? I’ve been so distant and withdrawn from everyone.

Besides air, what was the last thing you inhaled? The scent of my ramen earlier.

Which point in life do you think is hardest? (i.e. childhood, adulthood...) For me it’s been the past few years.

How was life going for you, say, six months ago? Not well.

^Is that the same as today, or have things changed? Things have changed, but not in a good way.

Who was the last person to make you frown? It’s been things I’m struggling with doing that, not a person.

^Was anyone able to turn that frown upside-down? No.

What was the last non-papery substance you drew on? I have no idea.

What is one thing you wish you had the courage to do? Get certain things checked out and taken care of that I’ve put off for too long.

Which is bigger: Your iTunes library or your CD collection? My iTunes collection was definitely better. I haven’t used iTunes since like 2012, though, and I don’t have any CDs anymore.

What is your one true weakness? I’m just weak.

When is the last time you had hot chocolate? It’s been a couple years.

Composition notebooks or spiral notebooks? Why? Spiral. I just like them better.

What is the most bizarre compliment you've ever received? That I looked pretty for someone with polio. I don’t have polio, but they assumed I did just because I’m in a wheelchair. Also, what does that even mean? “For someone with polio.” Wtf?

Do you identify more with guys or girls? I think I relate more to girls.

When someone you know is sad, how do you go about cheering them up? I kinda suck at that and don’t know what to do or say.

Has someone ever accused you of not being creative enough? I say that about myself. I lack creativity or any artistic ability.

Starbucks coffee or Dunkin Donuts coffee? I’ve only had Dunkin’s coffee a few times, but I’ve had Starbucks countless times and I do like it, so I’ll go with that. I do wish I had a Dunkin where I live cause apart from the donuts, I’ve heard they do have good brewed coffee.

Do you crack under peer pressure? Yepppp. And it doesn’t take much.

What do you think deserves more attention than it already gets? Hmm.

What song never fails to get stuck in your head? Songs I hear in commercials.

Who is your favorite vocalist? Why? Chester Bennington is one. His voice was incredible.

What is your most overused emoticon? This one: 😬 Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) Nah.

When was the last time you had a bagel? Hm. It’s been awhile, actually. I don’t even remember. Can you lick your own elbow? No.

What time during the day/night is your mind most active? At night when I’m up alone.

What color ink does your favorite pen have? I have a nice set of colorful pens that I really like.

What was the last thing you licked? My lips.

Who was the last person in your bed besides yourself? Just me. Can you touch your tongue to your nose? No.

What flavor mouthwash do you use? I don’t. Mouthwash irritates my mouth.

What tends to distract you most? I just find myself zoning out a lot. Like, someone will be talking to me and I feel myself getting overwhelmed quite easily and drift out and it doesn’t mean they’re boring or talking about heavy things (sometimes they are). I get like sensory overload. Or I’ll just be sitting in bed and zone out.

Is the perfect man or woman a myth? Yes. No one is perfect.

How do you feel about Bob Marley? I like a couple songs.

What's your favorite fairy tale? I liked reading or listening to all of them when I was growing up. <<<

Do you know who Tom Jones is? Yes.

Tell me one fact you know about horses (without using Google). They have manes.

When was the last time you had to walk up or down stairs? Well, never since I’m in a wheelchair.

Tell me one unique quality about your own handwriting. My handwriting is shit.

What daily chore do you secretly enjoy? I don’t enjoy any type of cleaning.

Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Definitely. Kids ask a lot of questions about everything and anything.

Name five books you've read in the past year. I’ve read a ton more than that, but I’ll give you the latest 5: Cold Highway, Cold Threat, Cold Hunt, Cold Truth, and To Die For. You can probably tell the first 4 are by the same author, Mary Stone. The last one is by Willow Rose.

^Are any of those books your favorite? I’ve enjoyed ‘em all. I’ve read a lot of books from both authors.

Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? I don’t re-read books, actually.

Which hobby is the lamest: stamp collecting or spoon collecting? I wouldn’t call either of them lame just cause it might not be something I’m personally interested in. Those bring some people joy.

What do you daydream about most often? My mind wanders off to random stuff, stuff I’m dealing with, stuff I’m anxious and stressed out about, etc.

Why is your favorite band your favorite band? I’ve listened to them since middle school, so we have a lot of history. I really just connect and relate to their lyrics and I love their music.

Do you have a favorite talk show host? Nah.

What do you wish you could afford at the moment? A beach home with my own private beach area.

What is the most unusual color you've ever painted your nails? I can’t think of any “unusual” colors that I’ve painted them.

Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I always take hot showers.

Have you ever made your own soap? No.

What's your favorite popsicle flavor? Not a popsicle fan.

Can you sleep with socks on? Yeah, I always have socks on.

When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? I’ve been frustrated and pissed with some things I’ve been dealing with lately.

Name a band with the word 'red' in their title. Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Do you have a favorite candle brand? I’m not a candle person. I just go for the room sprays.

How many years until you turn 38? 6. D:

What is your opinion on taxidermy? I find it super creepy and weird.

Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Uh, no.

What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? Let it get really knotted up. :/

What do you think makes you a good girlfriend or boyfriend? Nothing.

What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m a total mess, I wouldn’t make a good girlfriend.

How often do you indulge in a favorite food from your childhood? I eat ramen regularly.

Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? My damn nail picking habit.

What is the nicest thing you've done for someone else in the past 24 hours? Nothing.

What sort of conditions do you require in order for you to fall asleep? It needs to be cool and I have to have the TV on.

What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Uhhh.

Do you have a favorite punk band? Green Day.

As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse and cheating. <<<

Be honest: do looks really matter to you? They’re like a bonus to me. <<<

Congratulations! Someone sent you flowers! What kind do you hope they are? I’m not picky, just a pretty assortment perhaps would be nice.

What type of underwear do you personally prefer to wear? Hipsters.

What is the grossest chore you've ever been assigned? Nothing gross.

What band (BESIDES IRON MAIDEN) comes to mind when I say 'iron'? I got nothin.

Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? I had to go out and buy alcohol the day I turned 21.

Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? Wait, tell them I used to have feelings for them but don’t anymore? If I don’t anymore then why tell them about when I used to? Unless of course we were in a relationship and I no longer felt that way.

What color shirts do you tend to buy most often? Black.

Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Yeah.

Where would you rather go: Portland, Oregon or Portland, Maine? Portland, Oregon.

Name a band that begins with the letter Y. Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Tell me about someone who has made a huge impact in your life. My mom most definitely has.

What can I usually find you doing at 4pm on a weekday? At that time any day I’m likely still sleeping.

What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? I only eat the same few foods, so I eat them quite often. Like, I eat Wingstop 3-4 times a week...

Do you dot your lowercase i's? Yes.

What's the first song on your iPod/mp3 player that comes up under P? I use Spotify on my phone for music, but anyway nah I don’t feel like doing that.

Do the words 'Amon' and 'Amarth' mean anything to you? No.

What's your favorite mythical being? I don’t really have a favorite.

Don't you hate surveys that end abruptly? As long as the question itself isn’t cut off, which I’ve seen, or it’s a numbered one and a question is completely missing then I don’t care.

Let's end this survey with a smile; tell me something funny. I’m not in a good mood to think of something funny right now.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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Idk guys, could people maybe just try taking me at my word every now and again? I mean, what exactly is it that people think I get out of these posts?

Is it popularity? Do you think I make these posts to be popular? Because I took several months upon moving into Batfandom a year or two ago before actually making these kinds of posts more than once in a blue moon, and I was waaaaaaaaaaay more popular initially than I am now. I lost literal scores of followers once people realized this is a Thing for me, and could probably get most of them back if I just....stopped. Given the number of people who seem to follow and unfollow me regularly, as if just to see if I’m ‘done yet.’

So.....no, its not about popularity.

Is it about note counts? Do you think I make these posts to get notes, by being controversial, or with ‘the anti’s’? Because if you look through my archives you’d see that without variation, I consistently get FAR less notes on these posts that I do compared to like....literally ANY other content I post. When I write a Batfandom meta indepth, its rare for me not to get hundreds of notes on it. When I write a post like the last one examining survivor-related topics in depth, its rare for me to get up to even fifty notes.

So......no, its not about note counts.

Is it about garnering sympathy/pity? I do rely on donation posts sometimes, and I might see gains there due to people having sympathy or pity for me that they’re afraid to tangibly express online due to the controversial nature of many of my posts, but that might show up there, right? Well, sure, except for the fact that....my sob story is in no way reliant on these more controversial posts to exist, and in fact would be a hell of a lot more compelling when it comes to attaining donations if I DIDN’T add in all these other posts that are blatantly alienating to a lot of the people who were like “you had me at abuse/incest/rape survivor who needs major surgery as an end result of his gay bashing way back in college but then you lost me when you said I am a literal rapist for reading and writing specific fics like wtf dude?”

So.....no, its not about garnering sympathy/pity or even donations.

Is it about just being interesting or standing out or getting attention? Do you think I make these posts like a broken record because I have nothing else to talk about? Because uh, I have my pet topics but I can literally write essays on pretty much ANYTHING and everything about Dick Grayson or Scott McCall or Bobby Drake or plenty of other characters. And again, like I mentioned above, consistently get WAY more attention and engagement from people on any of those. I don’t need even my survivor status to be interesting, thanks, and I don’t even actually care all that much about it at the end of the day, because anyone who’s followed me for any length of time knows I would be perfectly happy to talk for a week straight about my OCs or original content even, as long as I have even just one or two people engaging with it, lol.

So....no, its not about being interesting or getting attention.

Is it about being a know-it-all, regarded as having certain expertise or being an authority on a certain topic? If so, that’d be a weird choice given how often I talk about how being a survivor is NOT a monolithic experience, and the fact that I center myself in my posts on the subject is not because I’m presuming I speak for everyone, but rather specifically to keep my views and experiences tailored specifically to ME and my own experiences entirely....the only viewpoint from which I AM qualified to speak with authority. I don’t post what I post the way I post to be viewed as the be-all and end-all of surivor views, and I don’t make it about myself and my experiences to wave my survivor credentials around and shut down opposition - if I did, it’d be blatantly ineffective given the amount of anon hate I get and derailing my posts experience, most of the time using information I’ve freely offered up in my own posts in an attempt to trigger or silence me. I post the way I post in these posts for one reason only, usually to my own detriment - I’m simply trying to humanize a topic that far too many people IMO deliberately try to view as abstract and hypothetical in order to distance themselves from the real issues. Not to mention like, I know a great deal about a lot of things? There aren’t many other former stuntmen or actors posting in this part of the internet that I’ve seen, I could focus on my own expertise there, or in any number of academic topics I’ve explored a lot just out of personal interest. Hell, I’ve been called a ‘Dick Grayson expert’ more than once, and could easily just focus on my knowledge and insight of his character, if I weren’t so often alienating half his fandom with these posts, right?

So.....no, its not about being a know-it-all or regarded as having certain expertise or being an authority on a certain topic.

So really, when it comes right down to it, there’s only two things it could possibly be, wouldn’t you agree? Either I’m speaking from a place of honesty as to very real reactions and views I have on this subject, born of my own experiences and knowledge.....or I’m just speaking out my ass from a place of wanting to feel morally superior about something.

But does it really make sense for it to be the latter? If I wanted a moral superiority hill to die on in order to feel good about myself or whatever, do you really think this is the only one I could come up with, or come back to this often? Given the number of ways it seems to shoot me in the foot in the process? Oh, I know I have a certain tone when I speak on this subject. I know I ooze the same ‘you sound so dumb right now’ tone I accuse others of when I approach stuff like this, but the thing is.....all of that ALWAYS traces back to like...me REACTING off of something, not just randomly up and deciding hey this is a good week to be hated by bringing up something I know damn well 90% of my followers would be happy to see me never bring up again.

And for a guy who clearly LIKES interacting and engagement on this platform as much as I do, does that make any sort of sense at all? Maybe every now and then, but as often as I do post about this stuff, for as long as I’ve been?

Or could it possibly just be like.....I’m telling the truth, and this shit is really, truly exhausting in a way that I, and any other survivor it exhausts, shouldn’t HAVE to put up with. Its not like I came out of the gate swinging, in fandom at large or even this fandom specifically. It took time to get me just....tired of it. The same bullshit, every day, every week, without fail. And again, it all mirrors the same shit I’ve been hearing from people my whole life, to avoid engaging with the ways they weren’t even complicit in my past traumas, but just....inconvenienced by it. People talk a good game about being there for us, believing us, supporting us, but in my experience, the second something beyond a simple acknowledgment of status is asked for, the second something someone would have to ACT UPON is asked for.....the switch flips.

And that shit. Is. Exhausting.

I don’t make noise on this subject because I in any way actionably or actually benefit from it. I don’t even make noise on it EXPECTING to, at this point. I make noise simply because.....the subject deserves noise, and I deserve to make it if I make that choice, and for too much of my life that just wasn’t a possibility. And all of this bullshit, as a result? Make no mistake, its just bullshit. I don’t ever call it me being bullied or victimized or harassed or martyred, because its none of those things and I don’t regard it as those things. (Well I occasionally refer to that TW anon as harassing, but that’s because their behavior is not just limited to me and very much fits every textbook definition of the word and needs to be regarded as such). But the rest of it? Like, I don’t have a martyr or victim complex because I don’t feel victimized by this shit, lmfao. It really is just exhausting and irritating. It makes me tired and annoyed. Not harmed. Even being genuinely triggered by shit, which happens more than I care to have it happen, is at the end of the day still just an unwanted echo of a shout that I heard years ago, and an echo is never going to hurt me the way that initial shout did or have the same impact. I’ll never quite get how people seem so convinced that their anon hate or triggering effect is going to accomplish what nothing before this actually did or be the TRULY demoralizing impact I can’t move past or whatever, as opposed to just being irritating and frustrating in its hypocrisy, but well. Guess people are projecting about feeling powerless in their own lives, lol, whoops.

But just....the hypocrisy of all this grates. And the only thing I’m really looking for out of it, if I’m even looking for anything at all, is just even a few people over the years saying something as simple as “i never really thought about it like this but I can see it now.” Is it really that hard to just listen to people? My ‘voice of moral superiority/condescension’ in these things comes from the fact that I AM listening, I HAVE been listening, and that’s why I know for a fact that the things being said in opposition are all things I’ve heard MANY MANY times before, and refuted or seen refuted each time. Can some of you say the same thing about yours? Especially when that tone only comes up in posts that repeatedly reaffirm that you’re not actually responding to anything I’ve actually said or written, but merely your own idea of what you THINK I’m saying, or else just a viewpoint you’re comfortable refuting, even if its not actually mine and at best tangential to my own? When you can find something insightful in so many of my posts about a character we both like, and understand even the most rambling of my essays about Dick Grayson just fine, can you truly and with confidence say the disconnect when it comes to hearing and understanding what I say in these posts is all mine? Are you sure it has NOTHING to do with anything you bring into your reading of these posts from a place of defensiveness or preconceptions of your own?

Just....think about it.

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npn2n4401 · 4 years ago

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A long delve into my simple mind.

I have reasonable doubt that you as a reader will make it to the end, but a true test of self discipline is your ability to do so. And a true test of mental resilience is for you to understand what I’ve written.

I try to be straightforward with people. I try to tell them my traumas such that they understand me better and so they can make judgements based upon those traumas but no one really cares enough to listen.

I think it’s because I’m not worth enough to them.

Conversely I feel as if I try to understand everyone, as somewhere down the line it could be a benefit to my own. No matter their status or potential. Am I really so naive and narcissistic to believe that no one is truly capable of this but me?

I’m an interviewer in everyday life. A scientist that practices on people, observing reactions, gathering and analyzing data until I decide my next approach. It seems like I’m not surrounded by true scientists. Only those that go for the degree as if a paper or an A in a class means something. But what it means to be a scientist is to be an observer. And to be a good scientist you must also understand how your observation affects the experiment.

People lack this awareness however, and as much as I try to humble myself saying that my IQ is average, I’m faced with the simple truth that people don’t understand how simple things really are. It’s all simple, and to say otherwise is our self depreciating preparation for failure.

I’m just writing to myself at this point, but I still worry if this my wording is to complex for the average person scrolling by to understand. Even so, the average person would not have read this far regardless.

This woman I’ve been speaking to is really the subject of this passage. As I say “No one understands me”, she speaks the same. As if her life was so complicated that it could not be dissected enough to unravel the complicated sequence of what motivates her thoughts and reactions to the world. Yet another person who doesn’t understand how simple things really are.

Sometimes people tell me how complicated they think things are and I can’t stop myself from laughing. All I can do is laugh because the many times I’ve tried to convince them that things are far simpler than they seem, I’m talking to a wall. I’m talking to someone who’s already given up in the very act of saying things are complicated. So I just laugh, because trying to help them is pointless. They won’t understand, they won’t try to understand, therefore they will never understand.

My mind is simple, but when people claim they understand me they’re wrong at every turn. They hypothesize without testing. Without collecting data. Without verification of their hypothesis through multiple trials. Therefore they do not understand me. The most difficult man I’ve ever met to understand was my father, however I’ve accomplished that. With the ability to say exactly the right thing because I’ve learned to see through his perspective as if his brain was my own.

I think in trying to understand him I’ve become an expert at this point. Coming to the point where I can see what someone else is seeing by looking at their eyes.

I look at their eyes then imagine their point of view. As if their hands were my hands as they hold them up to view them. As if I was their height, as if I was wearing their clothes. As if I was abused as they were, as if I experience how societal pressure motivates their mannerisms. My mannerisms. I become one with them. True empathy.

But very few people I’ve spoken to understand I can do this. And I’m ashamed to say it, but it took marijuana for me to understand this concept. But now I have it sober, and I use it to make other people comfortable and relaxed around me. It makes me good with shy people.

When I explain this, I always have to elaborate as to how I’m not lying. If the conversation gets far enough, I show them the texts between me and my father. The text that specifically said what he needed to hear.

The story goes like this.

My father refused to go to my graduation. He blocked me because I chose to see my mother over him. After all my mother didn’t abandon me all my life as he did. So I had been going on 7 months blocked by my father. Sending various texts trying to contact him and receiving nothing.

One day at a New Years party, both high and drunk, I look at my friend who’s a bit fat. I was pondering how on earth he was so popular because he wasn’t very attractive, but then I started seeing the way he was reacting to other people’s responses when he told jokes. If they didn’t laugh, I could see his face ponder and try to figure out why they didn’t laugh. And when they did laugh, he’d laugh with them and look happy.

I stared at his face, looking back I’m surprised he didn’t notice. The more I stared at his face the more I saw what it might be like to be in his shoes. To be him. As if our eyes had switched places and I could see the world he was living in. The more I did this the more I understood his actions.

I then thought to myself, I wonder if this will work on my father. I first thought about what he looked like. Why he looked the way that he did. Huge muscular body because he used steroids. Using steroids because he was insecure of how thin his body was when he was a meth addict. How he was a meth addict because he sold meth to pay child support and wanted to live a normal life at the same time. How his life was fun and games before he got my mom pregnant at 17 years old.

I then opened my phone and sent a message. “I know your life is hard, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I was in your shoes. I don’t want to look back 40 years from now thinking about how I never had a relationship with my father.”

He then replied with the first message in 7 months “I miss you and I want to make an effort”.

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kelleah-meah · 4 years ago

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I just want to get this off my chest really quick... (rant-y)

I’m watching some INFJ videos on YouTube and one YT channel presenter started talking about subtypes of INFJs, so of course I had to watch. It turns out the subtypes he was talking about were the Enneagram types most likely to be INFJ. Now I’ve stated in the past that I don’t care for the Enneagram very much because it’s problematic, and I’m more interested in the MBTI when it comes to personality analysis. Although I’ve tried to lean in and grasp the Enneagram’s ideology, I simply can’t get on board with it.

Here’s why:

I am not a fan of the Enneagram, and it's especially connected to how those who follow it describe Type 4s. (For the record, I consider myself a Type 4w3, but my argument stands regardless of this information.)

To be blunt, I think those who are "all in" on the Enneagram get Type 4s completely wrong when it comes to motivation. I've never identified with the mischaracterization that my sole purpose in life is to be unique. Authentic, sure. But unique is a fluid concept, and Type 4s are more about not wanting to feel manipulated by a society that directly and indirectly pushes us all to think, act and believe one particular or specific way. Yes, Type 4s buck conformity, but they do so because it feels inauthentic. Not because we want to be unique.

For example, I own a OnePlus smartphone. Before that, I had a Motorola Droid Turbo. When my 2-yr contract was up and I decided that I didn’t want a new Droid, I made a point not to look at Samsungs and iPhones. I know those are the 2 most popular smartphones available in my country, but I didn’t want them. Sure, I had no desire to buy them and be like everyone else, but not because I didn’t want to be like everyone else, but because I needed to be sure that I spent my money reflecting my voice and values. No phone manufacturer is perfect, and based on research, all phone companies are awful in a variety of ways (slave labor, violating environmental laws, lobbying practices, tax evasion, etc.).

But I put a genuine multi-month effort into researching what phone I could get that met my needs and, hopefully, was the least awful in a barrel of awful corporations. I landed on OnePlus. Now, I may be wrong, and they’re just as hot garbage as all the others, but comparatively, I made an earnest effort to find something to truly reflect me -- authentically. Not because I want to be unique.

I feel like Enneagram fans honestly believe that Type 4s devalue themselves if they ever view themselves as normal, and nothing could be further from the truth. Type 4s know they're human, and they take pride in relating to others when they genuinely do. And yet I see so many "experts" insist that we're constantly trying to feel special and our self-esteem is predicated on viewing ourselves as magical unicorns that it frankly makes me doubt the entire Enneagram concept.

Perhaps a truly unhealthy Type 4 does behave this way. But if you listen to the so-called experts tell it, this desire to be unique is what defines us all and we're all running around just being absolute terrors, annoying everyone for the sake of annoying them while living our most unhealthy life. And to that I have to say "No, thank you."

And whenever I bring up how Enneagram fans are incredibly judgmental of Type 4s, someone is quick to rush in and say that the Enneagram isn’t about judging people. “It’s just a tool to help you to become a better and healthier person.” Sorry, that’s just nonsense. The Enneagram was developed by human beings, and human beings are prone to make flawed judgments about people they don’t understand, especially when they divide them into too few categories.

And since the Type 4 group is the smallest of the Enneagram types, I’m inclined to think that it’s been developed by and seconded by people who don’t understand the people who identify as Type 4s, and it’s more about manipulating that type into being what the rest of society wants them to be -- that is someone who falls in line, plays along to get along, and does what they’re told.

Type 4s are constantly attacked for thinking they’re “special” and told that they’re not unique and everything they go through is the same things everyone else feels and goes through. And yet, countless Type 4s share stories of being under the unending barrage of criticism, abuse and bullying from people who tell them that they’re weird, freakish, and unacceptable. If everyone knows what it’s like to not fit in, then why are there still people who bully others into fitting in?

Some of us are people who have lived an entire life of never fitting in. We’re not talking about just when we’re kids or teens. We get bullied as much as adults as we did when we were young. We’re rejected by our families, our classmates, our coworkers, and society in general. Some of us have never had more than 3 friends at once our entire lifetime. We can’t rely on others to help us when we’re in need. We don’t have anyone to lean on when we’re depressed. When we open our mouths to express our opinions, the entire room grows silent and tense because we said something so unpopular or out of the ordinary. (I can’t tell you the number of times that has happened to me at every single job I’ve ever had.)

Sure, these aren’t the experiences of every Type 4, but it is the experience for many of us. My point is we’re not trying to be unique. We’re just trying to be ourselves in a world that says we’re not welcome to do so. So stop saying the Enneagram isn’t about judging people, especially if your description of us and our motivation is completely false.

#infj #enneagram 4 #enneagram #rant-y #type 4

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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The Rescue: Danny’s Mom

for the Anon who asked what Danny’s mom said to him that affected him so badly, this one is for you!

CW: Implied/referenced past violence/ sexual assault (vague), emotional abuse

His parents are coming.

There is no life before Abraham.

He’s at a small town police station somewhere in Alberta, and Ryan called their parents just to get Danny back to California faster, and the Alberta cops aren’t happy about it and Danny isn’t either, but he doesn’t say anything.

He’s having trouble following things here - police officers go in and out, sometimes people in regular clothes he thinks are detectives. They keep calling him by the old name, the one that isn’t his anymore, and he can’t seem to make anyone understand that he’s not allowed that name. That name belonged to a person, and he isn’t one.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner.

He keeps trying to explain, but they don’t listen to him.

They keep calling him Daniel or Mr. Michaelson, and he tries not to answer to it, because it’s not his name now, it’s against the rules, but he’s so tired and eventually he gives up and just hopes no one will hurt him.

They keep trying to get him to wash his own face, but he makes himself so small that they give up and leave the damp paper towel on the table. They brought him a blanket and he shied away from it until they left. He’s wrapped in it now against the air in the chilly room.

He said thank you, though. He says thank you for everything they bring, because you have to be grateful to be good.

They bring him band-aids he doesn’t want, because after so many months with the thing on his face he doesn’t want anything to cover up even an inch of the skin there ever, ever again. No one orders him to put them on so he leaves them in a pile on the table.

The air over the raw, open wounds across his nose and cheekbones and jaw burns and it hurts and it feels like heaven.

They bring him food while they question Nate in one of the other places in this building, but they don’t tell him if he’s allowed to eat it, so it goes cold and they look disappointed that he wasn’t hungry and take it away again. I was hungry, he thinks, desperately, please I haven’t eaten since last night and Abraham only gave me a little but he doesn’t get to ask, that’s not how it works, he has to wait until permission is given.

Puppies beg when their owners want to hear them, and otherwise they wait to be fed.

When they take the food away he has to bite his lower lip until it hurts to keep from crying at the loss. It had looked like so much food, too, maybe even enough to feel full, and he hasn’t been given that much food unless he is very good in so long. But it’s gone, and they never let him eat it. Why would they even bring it if they weren’t going to give him permission?

They brought a mug of awful weak coffee, and that time Nate was in the room - they keep taking Nate to ask him questions and then letting him come back in for a while and then taking him back so he can answer all of the same questions asked by someone else - and Nate knew to tell him that it was okay to drink it, so he’s had a full mug of that. It helped his stomach stop growling, at least, and the detective who brought it to him smiled when he told her thank you.

He is very thankful for the coffee.

He is grateful, he is following the rules, he is good.

I want to be good, please tell me what good means here.

The detective who brought him the coffee came back a few minutes ago to tell the puppy she thinks is Danny that his parents will be here soon, and his brother is going to come in with them. Ryan was here earlier, and Danny remembers him the best, the most - Abraham took everything, but he couldn’t take Ryan away.

Ryan came for him alone at first. It was Ryan the Alberta cops called when they decided Nate was telling the truth, that the damaged man in front of them resembled a missing persons’ photo of Daniel Michaelson that the cops in California sent up to them to verify.

They asked him if he had anyone to call, and Danny could only remember Ryan’s number and no one else’s, but now his parents are coming, too, and he doesn’t want them here.

There is still enough of who he used to be that Danny no sooner thinks about not wanting his parents to come into this police station - he hasn’t spoken to them for more than a couple of strained phone calls since five and a half years ago - than he hears the voices of relatives and friends and Michaelson Logging business partners hiss, you should be more grateful, the others at that group home would have killed to adopted by them, they’ll make this all happen faster, you should be more grateful.

Be grateful.

He still sits in the same room where they first brought him, a break room or something. The walls are a weirdly dark beige, and there’s a couch older than him he doesn’t dare sit in. He feels like he thought police stations in Canada would be different, somehow, but mostly all that changes is the labels on some of the snacks in the vending machines. Everything else is mostly the same.

He should really be on the floor, but when he tried to sit down on the tile when he first came in everyone got upset and told him to get into a chair, and Nate said it was okay, so he’s still there in the folding chair, sitting at a small card table with his shoulders hunched nearly to his ears, blanket pulled tightly around himself.

Only people get to use the furniture. Dogs sit on the floor.

But if they told him to sit in the chair, that makes it okay, right? Sometimes Bram let him sit on the couch if he was good, if he curled up against him, if he sought out the affection he didn’t want, that he hated. If he sat, miserable and shaking, and tried to pretend that he was happy.

Pl-please, please R-R-Red, wake up, y-you have to c-c-come back to m, to me, he’d heard Nate’s voice, choked with tears and guilt and terror, felt the thumbs slip across his wounded face when the muzzle came off, felt Nate’s forehead lean in to just touch his, the slightest hint of warmth. Or someone else felt it, someone else heard, while Danny was still buried deep inside himself. Please, G-God, please, th-there has to be enough of y-y-you left to s-save.

Pl-please, please t-tell me I w-w-wasn’t too late.

There are vending machines along a corner; three food ones, one that has soda and water, and finally a coffee one. He stares longingly at the coffee vending machine, but he can’t ask for money, and it’s not like he and Nate have any.

Maybe when Ryan comes back? Ryan will see him looking at the vending machine and maybe know what he wants and give him money and permission. Ryan used to make fun of him for wanting to get coffee out of the vending machine at every single rest stop during their dad’s mandatory family bonding road trip the summer he turned sixteen.

Danny sits up, blinking, surprised at the sudden clarity of the memory. He never remembers anything anymore, but all at once he remembers this.

He looks around the dingy room with its yellowed florescent lighting and tries to think of the last time he remembered anything from before as clearly as he remembers Ryan, fourteen years old and all elbows and knees and careless laughter, mocking Danny as he fed quarters into the machine and watched it pour his steaming hot coffee into a little cup.

There is no life before Abraham.

But there was, there had been, and Abraham couldn’t punish him for remembering it anymore. Danny takes a quick, shallow breath, and the memory of his affectionate irritation with his little brother - he can even remember what state they were in, it was Illinois and the land was so flat, the sky had felt so immense and like it could crash down on them at any moment - feels like a gift.

Be grateful for every gift you are given.

“Thank you,” He whispers, and he’s not sure who he’s thanking, but it’s safer to say thank you anyway, to follow the rules even if Nate tells him he doesn’t have to anymore. “Thank you for Ryan.”

He’s wearing the same thin cotton pj pants he had on when they drove away from the cabin, the tops of his thighs marked with soot stains from Nate’s hands, a smear of black across his cheekbone and on the shoulder of his shirt. He still smells a little like the smoke, he thinks, and Nate’s clothes had smelled faintly of the gasoline he’d poured all around the cabin before he lit the flames.

The only thing they’ve already taken is the leather dog collar from around his neck, sliding it off. The cops had hissed softly through their teeth at the rubbed-raw scars underneath, removing the collar while wearing plastic gloves, putting it into a large ziploc bag and taking it away. Danny had watched it go with a pounding, terrified heartbeat.

He wasn’t allowed to take it off. Only Bram was allowed to take the dog collar off, only Bram, not even Nate was allowed.

But no one came to punish him for it, and after a while someone told Nate that Abraham was handcuffed to a hospital bed being treated for smoke inhalation, that he had been conscious but couldn’t speak, had no voice beyond a whisper.

Good, Nate had said in a low, steady voice, his hand on Danny’s shoulder. D-D-Don’t let h-him sp, speak. Whatever y-you do, don’t l-let him speak.

Danny’s parents are coming, and Ryan said they’re bringing new clothes for him and some things Nate can wear, too, so the cops can take the clothes they have on for evidence.

He hears Ryan before he sees anyone, and Danny listens to his brother’s rapid-fire speech, clearly filling Corrine and Patrick in on everything as they come closer. “You really should talk to the trauma expert first,” Ryan is saying.

“He’s my son, Ryan, I don’t need to do any such thing,” Patrick rumbles in his low, deep voice.

Oh, Danny thinks in a sudden bitter burst of the person he was before he became the dog, oh, now I’m your fucking son all of a sudden. Must be a photographer somewhere to impress.

Danny blinks, sitting quickly back into his hunch, face burning with worry at the rebellious, disobedient thoughts. The cursing angry person inside of him that he normally kept pushed far, far down beneath Red.

There was no life before Abraham.

I want to be good.

“I’m sure Danny will be glad to hear that,” Ryan says, and there’s a dry, sarcastic note to his warm voice that makes Danny smile, just the barest bit. Even Ryan knows better than to buy Patrick’s he’s my son thing. “But look, I had to talk to Rosalie Laurent before I got to see him and it really might be a good idea if you did, too-”

“Just fill us in.” Corrine’s voice now, breezy and unworried. No doubt they tried to stop her at the front desk and she simply breezed past them, the way she has always flashed her rings and her wealth and the steely determination in her dark brown eyes and breezed past any objection.

How does he know so much about them when he can barely remember their faces?

There was nothing before Abraham, and there is nothing after.

But this was before, and after, and this was something.

“Okay, fine.” Ryan sighs, heavily, and Danny knows they’ve stopped right outside the door, now, though he can’t see them yet. “Listen to me. Don’t try to touch him yet, he doesn’t like that. The trauma expert said he, um, he was touched a lot against his will-”

“Oh my God,” Corrine says, in a voice that blends horrified disgust and a certain kind of awful fascination. “Ryan, you’re not saying-”

“It’s not my place to say. That’s all medical stuff and I’m not going to share it with anyone. They only told me because I was listed on Danny’s old primary care records as his next-of-kin and emergency contact.” Ryan’s got a stubborn note in his voice now.

“But we’re his parents,” Corrine says, voice faltering a little.

“Mom, you haven’t been an emergency contact since junior year, don’t do this. I’m the only one on the list, so the information stays with me.”

Thank you, Danny thinks, wants to say, wants so badly. Thank you for standing up for me. I am so grateful for you, I am good.

“I suppose I can understand that,” Corrine says finally, hesitantly.

“Right. Good. So don’t try to touch him. And don’t speak too loudly or move too quickly, he’s really scared of everything right now. Please just give him lots of space, speak softly, and don’t feel bad if he acts like he doesn’t remember you. Dr. Laurent said he dissociates as a coping mechanism-”

“The trauma expert is a doctor?” Corrine asks, curious.

“She has a doctorate,” Ryan replies. “She’s not, like, a medical doctor, but she’s honestly been more helpful than any of them were, so-”

“Fine, fine, fine.” As Patrick speaks, Danny closes his eyes and thinks he can see Patrick Michaelson counting the words off on his fingers. Another thing he doesn’t remember because he is not allowed but he does remember, anyway. “Don’t touch, don’t speak loudly, don’t move quickly, don’t be upset if he’s… distant. Is that all?”

“And call him Red. Yeah.” Ryan takes a deep breath, loudly enough that Danny can hear it even through the door. “And just… be nice to him, okay?”

“When have we ever not been nice to him?” Corrine asks, offended.

“We’ve only ever treated Danny just like he’s part of our family, Ryan.” Patrick’s voice dips into disappointment, not quite insulted, not quite injured. “We missed him.”

The angry Daniel Michaelson raises his head once again to hiss that’s news to me, Patrick, before Danny jams that person back down in a flare of panic. He wasn’t Daniel Michaelson now, he was Red.

I want to be good.

But I don’t want to be good for them.

But I have to be good.

I want to be good.

Ryan opens the door, coming in first, carrying a couple of plastic bags by one hand, flashing Danny a soft, hesitant smile. Their first reunion hadn’t gone the way Ryan had wanted, Danny knew, and he felt guilty that he couldn’t be good enough to be Danny for Ryan, but Red was safer.

Red followed the rules.

“Hey, Red,” Ryan says, clearly struggling with the name Abraham had given him, flashing an expression of disgust. “I brought Mom and Dad by. They’re going to help you get back to America a little faster. They brought your passport and stuff… they wanted to see you.”

They wanted to be photographed coming in to see me, you mean. They want to be in the papers, they want to be good parents for the press like they’ve always been, everything for the company, everything for the press.

Shut up. Stop it. Be good.

Think good thoughts.

Think Red thoughts.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner. Just the puppy. Puppies are good. Puppies want to be good.

My name is Red.

The thought calms him, and he nods slowly, pushing himself out of his chair to stand, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He’s hunched over, but still taller than any of them and he knows it, and he feels strange and stretched out as Corrine and Patrick Michaelson enter the room.

They look a little older than four years ago, maybe, but not by much. Corrine is, as usual, impeccably and perfectly dressed, sliding her deep teal peacoat off her shoulders to reveal a sweater that shows only a hint of one bare brown shoulder. Patrick’s wearing a suit, looking like he had come straight from a business meeting - a little rumpled where Corrine has not one hair out of place.

Just like always, in the memories he doesn’t have but which bleed around Abraham’s training and whisper in his mind anyway.

Danny tries on a thin smile for them, fixing his eyes somewhere near their feet, noting Corrine’s heels clicking on the tile as she moves closer to him. His heart starts to speed up, beating so fast he’s nearly dizzy from the rush of blood.

Stay back.

(don’t pull away from me, little Red)

Please don’t get that close.

“We’re so happy they found you,” Corrine says in a rush of perfectly practiced sincerity. “Oh, Danny-”

“Red, honey,” Patrick rumbles from just behind her, keeping his distance. Danny is so grateful for the distance, right now, with the same ferocity he used to be furious with it before. “Remember? Ryan said to call him Red for now.”

“M-My name is Red,” Danny offers, in a halting, soft voice. “My name is Red and I belong-”

“It’s okay, Red,” Ryan soothes him, setting the bags down on a table, pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans. “I told them already. I brought you some stuff to wear back. These might be big on you now, you’ve… um, lost some weight… but they’ll get us home and we can buy more then, yeah?”

Danny just nods, staring still at Corrine’s shoes, which are moving closer to him, closer and closer and they’re too close.

Corrine moves up to him and takes his face in her hands, lifting it to meet her eyes. He can’t flinch. He’s not allowed.

Stop touching me stop touching me stop touching me

Never reject a touch

Never pull away

(don’t you want to be good?)

I want to be good

Danny goes still, staring at her with eyes that are too wide and frightened to truly see. The warmth of her hands makes his skin crawl, his heart pound.

He wants to pull away from her, he wants to tear away and hide in the corner, he wants he wants he wants but he is the puppy and puppies don’t get to want, they do what they’re told, so he holds himself still. He just has to try harder.

Danny whispers, “I can be good.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Corrine says, lifting his face to the light, her eyes focused on the ring of red, raw open wounds around his face. “Oh sweetie, look at how awful this is.”

“He knows, Mom, don’t touch him.“ Ryan looks up, warm amber eyes narrowed. “Let go of him, he doesn’t want to be touched right now. He doesn’t like being touched.”

Corrine ignores her younger son, running her finger along the notch cut deeply into each side of his jaw. There’s a trail left behind, hot shame burning the ring in his face.

He can feel her eyes on the ridge cut hard into the top of his nose, and Danny feels bile in his throat that he has to fight back with a constant drumbeat of be good be good be good.

“Mom! Let go of him, he doesn’t like that!” Ryan snaps the words, and Danny fights back a wince at the sound of his defensive anger.

Pets don’t get to be angry.

“Honey, he’s fine, look, he doesn’t mind. Do you mind, Danny?“

I’m not Danny anymore. I’m not anyone.

“Whatever you want,” He repeats, numbly, trying not to throw up all over her.

“He’s not allowed to tell you if he minds, Mom, it was a whole thing that asshole did to him! Just drop your fucking hands!”

“Language, Ryan,” Patrick warns, but turns to Corrine. “Darling, he did speak to the expert, you should-”

“Just a moment,” Corrine murmurs.

Ryan moves to pull her back, but before he can reach out to her, Corrine looks Danny right in the eyes.

The look on her face is one of supreme isn’t this what we always expected of you, and it’s a look Danny has seen so many times before, in the life he was told to forget.

It has never hurt quite like this.

(I love it when you cry for me, little Red. Are you going to cry now? That’s my good, good boy…)

She has blurred in his vision, his eyes helpfully filling with tears so he can’t see the look on her face any longer, but it doesn’t protect him.

Corrine shakes her head and says, in a tone of mixed disappointment and the faded sort of conditional affection that she has always felt for him in place of love, “Oh, Danny, how could you let him do this to you? How could you let that happen to your face?”

#Daniel Michaelson's story #whump #broken whumpee #rescued whumpee #rescue whump #dehumanization #post-captivity #rescued #tw: emotional abuse #tw: abusive parents #pet whump #angry caretaker #trauma recovery #conditioning #deconditioning #touch aversion

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yououghtaknow · 4 years ago

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so i filled in this chart (made by @fingersmithbysarahwaters <3) on my twitter dot com account (@/genderhead if you want to see me post more Casual stuff). i am now going to explain it in depth because i am autistic and my special interest is my own show.

NOTE: the way i did this chart was that the "coded" column is who people see you as and the "girl" column is who you are. also i am not an expert in riverdale analysis, i simply know what i’ve heard my very smart friends talking about.

ARCHIE GIRLS

ARCHIE CODED

sandy my best friend sandy….. she is just such an archie in her core. cause archie is the Heart of the town, he’s the Heart of the friend group, and that is very sandy. on the surface, they’re very similar - both being very athletic people, both just really wanting to be liked by everyone, both being kind of lost at the beginning and in a manipulative relationship. but, at the end of the day, archie’s all about being there for the people he loves, and even though he’s spent a lot of time hating himself for his mistakes, he grows and moves on, much like sandy. also they’re both not that good at dancing but will still be in the school musicals to support their friends.

JUGHEAD CODED

jacob love……. he an archie girl at his core because he just wants to protect the people he loves. he is genuinely torn between music and football, and has to deal with knowing people have done bad things and that he can’t do anything about it. he may go about it the wrong way sometimes, but he’s just trying to do what’s best for his friends and himself, which makes him a bit more jughead coded. he’s very much trying to be perceived as a season 1 esque jughead in the fact that he knows he’s different in a deep inherent way and has a hard time articulating it for a while. he also has the trauma of abandonment from both of his parents and runs away to protect himself at one point.

BETTY CODED

ms eleanor early…. i needed to include some not so main characters to fill up the chart, and ellie’s character has always been quite interesting to me, because the roles that sonja and emma play in og skam are very typical of a gay drama, and combining them into one character i think makes her a lot more interesting. ellie is trying to be perceived as a season 1 betty, she has the blonde hair, the perfect upper middle class family, she has a crush on the perfect jock guy, but…. that isn’t really who she is. she’s a fierce protector of what she believes to be the truth and is always ready to stand up for herself and her friends. she thinks she’s a betty coded veronica girl but she is not. also ellie would absolutely name a band after herself.

VERONICA CODED

my best friend james cohen…… james is a very obvious archie girl. he’s very much the heart of his friend group, he literally almost went to jail trying to protect nick. he loves his found family so so dearly and he’s a nice boy who plays a guitar. but when we get into his veronica coding….. veronica is just such an interesting character to me (more on that later) but the way james relates to her. veronica is all about getting validation from her dad and male figures, whereas james is trying to get validation from his mum and female figures in his life. he also openly struggles with alcohol abuse and is very good at giving some one liners. he’s also kind of a mean girl in the first few seasons??? like he’s seen as that way from the pov character. also i believe that, if given the opportunity, james would open a speakeasy/casino underneath a local diner.

JUGHEAD GIRLS

ARCHIE CODED

i am about to interpret characters so wrong. so bryan is what people who don’t view riverdale through the correct lgbt lense think an archie coded jughead girl is like. he’s a jock, he’s been with a lot of girls, he’s kind of stupid (his archie coding) and he’s a bad boy™ who struggles with money problems and is in love with the perfect good girl (who is also a lesbian). he’s just the worst. i hate him.

JUGHEAD CODED

oh <3 would you look at that <3 it’s me <3 isaac yououghtaknowmp3/genderhead <3. i couldn’t think of another random character to included so i just did myself. i am jughead coded in the fact that i am weird i’m a weirdo i don’t “fit in” and i don’t want to fit in. i have always known there is something inherently Other about me and i haven’t tried to hide it ever. i also am a writer and use my writing as a way to process my real life trauma and things going on around me. also the scene where jughead burns down his childhood home and then sings seventeen (reprise) from heathers does affect me on a deep and personal level. i am a bit betty coded in the fact that i Am very much like that.

BETTY CODED

annabell!!!! i love them so so much, they are so fun to me. they’re very much later seasons betty coded, in that fact that i fully believe they have the serial killer genes. they know what they’re good at and they do it well, and they are trying to be seen as a serpent queen type figure, but…. at the end of the day, they do just use sardonic humour to relate to the world. they are covering up their mental illness with strange little jokes and enjoy making bitchy little comment in such a fun way. also they’re a nonbinary lesbian which i think is a very bettycoded jugheadgirl thing to do.

VERONICA CODED

nick my best friend nick!!!!! nick is very veronica coded in the daddy issues way. we see them have issues connecting to their dad and they try to find that bond with other male companions…… he also deals with some substance abuse problems and is very dramatic and uses a lot of pop culture references to cover up their actual issues. but, deep down in his heart, nick is a jughead because he cares deeply about the people around him, even though he has trouble showing it. also he is in love with james in a very similar way to how jughead is in love with archie. also i feel like all of their younger brothers can and will kin jellybean.

BETTY GIRLS

ARCHIE CODED

esther my bestie!!!!!!!! esther is trying so hard to be seen as an archie like figure. she wants to be the centre of the friend group, she wants to be in charge and know what’s going on at all times. she just really wants to be liked all of the time, but that is what makes her such a betty girl. she’s very perfection orientated, and she’s also very ambitious and clever in a betty way. betty’s whole relationship with donna sweett just has esther vibes. also the wig in a box scene in the hedwig episode where betty is trying to make everyone feel better??? very esther core.

JUGHEAD CODED

alistair. thomas. fletcher. god this boy is very jughead coded. from the first moment we see him, he’s Weird. he’s very season 1 jughead in the fact that he’s a gay little outsider trying to stay a gay little outsider but his curiosity gets him dragged into the main plot. also al tries to see the world through the lens of fiction, much like jughead. but at the end of the day, he is a betty. he is very intellectually smart and we see him struggle a lot with perfectionism over what we’ve seen so far. also he’s good at snarking with his siblings and he has fully psychoanalysed people at musical rehearsal for no reason other than to have fun. He’s also a betty for reasons i can’t get into on this night due to Spoilers but you’ll know it when the time comes.

BETTY CODED

rori!!!!!!!!!! rori is such such such a betty in every way. the pastel colours are very her. betty’s relationship with denying her mental illness is very her in the early season. even the betty/archie relationship is quite reminiscent of rori and james’s relationship (i mean this in a gay way not a barchie way). also the way people interpret betty and her sexuality reminds me a lot of rori, the whole performance of femininity riverdale betty specifically does…. also rori is very much a main character type of person and betty is thee main character of riverdale. also betty spending so much of the musical episodes with veronica is a very rori move.

VERONICA CODED

milo woods!!!!! my fave girlboss!!!! they’re very veronica coded in the fact that they are the cool, cultured, popular new kid in town with fancy style. also they are very “you’re gay? thank god, let’s be friends”. but they are very much a betty girl with their insecurities and their girlboss ways being a lot more subtle. like milo shows up out of nowhere like veronica, but psychoanalyses and romances the local lgbt community by being mean to them in a sincere and fun way. also the whole “i’m the daughter of the black hood” speech has milo energy.

VERONICA GIRLS

ARCHIE CODED

sophie!!!!! sophie is archie coded in the fact that she is just so cool and well liked and sporty and hot. like sophie’s whole introduction is like the “whoa! archie got hot!” scene only sandy has always thought she was hot. but sophie is such a veronica at the end of the day. like she is a hashtag girlboss in the sense that she’s the captain of the football team, she’s smart, she’s put together. but also she has a past where she’s been betrayed and assaulted and abused and she’s just trying to keep it all together at the end of the day. sophie kennedy i love you

JUGHEAD CODED

theo alterman. god he is weird, he is a weirdo. he wears dark clothes, he’s deeply sarcastic, but he’s always there for his friends in his own special way. also i feel like theo would fake his own death. he’s also canonically hyperfixated on dungeons and dragons which is an epic jughead moment. but he is very much a veronica girl in the fact that he is so bitchy and fun to his friends but is always there for them and trying to be a good friend. like he messes up a lot but he earnestly trying his best to empathise with his friends and be cool and good. he just wants to fit in so much but also the world according to chris is a very theo song

BETTY CODED

liz my friend elizabeth!!!! she is very betty coded. i mean, both of their names are elizabeth. they’re both blonde, they both deal with overbearing mothers, shitty fathers and high expectations. they both struggle with mental illness in a very repressed way and also liz is very intellectual. but she is such a veronica. liz is seeking out validation constantly and is willing to change who she is just to get people to like her. she’s also very desperate for friends and will always try her best to keep them. also liz says some absolutely wild lines in a fun veronica way. liz would say i recognise those abs anywhere about james.

VERONICA CODED

finally my best friend in the whole wide world brianna holland. oh bree. my love my light. they are just such a veronica girl. veronica’s relationship with femininity and sexuality is very similar to bree’s, with equating sex to both power and validation. in a way, bree is also seeking out her father in the men she’s had relations with in the past, but we see her grow from that and move on to a girl (like veronica should also do). also bree is just such a girlboss i love them so much. also they both have a secret sibling which gets a very dramatic reveal. it’s so intensely fun. also it’s about the reputation by taylor swift.

thank you for reading, stan riverdale, stan skam brighton, and please know that i wrote this instead of doing my final piece of coursework <3

#skam brighton #isaac speaks #genuinely the pain of having my special interest be the show that i write is just..... so strange #but alas here is my 5 page long mini essay about my funny little guys and riverdale #heart emoji

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years ago

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All you have to be is here - Part 3

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 3 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 //

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. I’ll make a header image at some point.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

The rain knocks heavily against the windows of (Y/N)’s flat as Billy slowly strolls around the living room.

“ Feel free to put on some music, there should be a tape in the player “ (Y/N) hollers from the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar and Billy can just about catch a glimpse of her lathering her lips in a bright red color.

There’s a cassette player on a side table, next to some books and some picture frames. It’s held together by entirely too many pieces of shiny grey duct tape. Billy wonders just how well this thing is still working. Then again, he of all people, should be the expert on broken things working just fine.

As he presses play the opening chords of Bennie and the Jets start filling the room, making Billy screw up his face in disapproval.

“ Elton John ? “ he asks, raising his voice a little to make himself heard over the music.

“ Fuck yeah, he’s a musical genius. This song is so catchy. “

He’s about to skip the song, hoping the next one to be something more suitable to his taste, when he sees her through the crack of the open door. She’s dancing along to the song, mouthing the words and shaking her hips as her hands work on styling her hair.

He stops himself, keeps the song on, if only to see her move like that. She’s cute and who is he to deny himself the pleasure of seeing a cute girl dance. And to deny her the pure joy of listening to a song she likes.

His eyes drift towards one of the picture frames, it’s made of dark wood and it looks quite heavy. In the picture there’s a little girl with a bright smile and a gap between her front teeth. Those eyes staring back at him, he’s seen before. He looks at them every time he arrives at HHTCY. She looks happy in this picture, there’s a bunch of daisies in her hair and she’s holding onto a popsicle. Next to her is a woman who has the same hair color and the same smile and she looks at the little girl with an adoration he’s hardly ever seen in a person before.

“ That’s my mom. I mean — it’s pretty obvious but yeah. That’s her, “ (Y/N) speaks up from beside him. She’s all done up, her lips a cherry red color and her hair styled to perfection. She looks great, he thinks. Then again, she is naturally that pretty so this shouldn’t be a surprise really.

There’s a lot Billy wants to say then, most of all he wants to ask what happened. To the happy girl in the picture and the mother that looked at her with love that is almost palpable through a photograph. You don’t ask people that though. You don’t ask people why they used to be happy and why they aren’t anymore. The woman in the picture though, she doesn’t look like someone who’s kid would have themself emancipated at 15. It looks like another life all together.

Billy wonders if his mom ever looked like someone who’d abandon her family. Who’d leave her son with a cruel cruel man. A man she knew was gonna turn her son into a monster. He wonders if other people saw that in her, a woman who’d run. He didn’t. Maybe he was just too young or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. Or maybe mom was just good at hiding the person she truly was. A quitter. Not a mother after all.

The unshakable truth is that she’s gone god knows where and he’s not going to find an answer to any of his questions so it’s best to lock those thoughts up in a chest and bury them deep inside himself where no one can find them and none of it can hurt him. Not anymore.

“ You ready to go ? “ he asks, trying to steer the conversation into another direction. Any other direction.

- OOO -

Tina Warren lives at the end of a cul-de-sac. Her light blue house with the white columns and the big front lawn stands proudly in a sea of several other houses that look exactly the same. Like little doll houses mass produced for the perfect suburban family to spend their perfect life in these walls. Billy thinks it’s a bit ironic. He knows that Tina’s dad fucks his secretary and that her mother throws back diet pills and painkillers as if they’re tic-tac.

But it’s alright, right ? As long as the lawn is exactly the height it’s supposed to be and the paint on the door doesn’t chip and everyone is smiling. God, all of this is so fucking fake. It all feels artificial and wrong. Plasticy. As if someone took the town and replaced all the residents with barbie copies of themselves.

“ Is this Tina’s house ? “ (Y/N) voice janks him from his thoughts.

“ Yeah. You know Tina ? “

“ I mean, I don’t know her personally “ (Y/N) replies and shrugs her shoulders making the slightly too big denim jacket slide down her arm a little, “ I’ve heard of her though. Her uh — skills are quite talked about. Also I’ve been to a party here before. Don’t think I ever talked to her though. “

Tina Warren thinks her pussy is magic. Thinks that once she sleeps with a guy it inevitably turns him into a lovesick fool for her. That, he knows, is bullshit. It’s not as magical as she thinks it is and everyone is either too nice or too desperate to tell her otherwise. And really, he respects her for her decisions in a way. People, Billy believes, should be able to fuck whoever they want if no one gets hurt in the process and both parties are willing participants. He just hates the fact that Tina makes a big deal out of nothing. Hell, she showed up at his fucking house when he didn’t call her back after — well afterwards.

The house is filled with people, most of them Billy recognizes from passing them in the hallways or staring at the back of their heads during class. None of them are his friends though. He had friends in California. Real ones. Ones that — that tried to see the good in him. That knew and wholeheartedly believed there was a person in him that wasn’t just the monstrous creation of his father’s rage.

He had friends. Past tense. None of them called since he’s moved here so he assumes the don’t care so much anymore.

As he walks through the house, (Y/N) on his heels, he can feel the crowd’s eyes on him. When he first arrived here, he thrived at the admiration. He liked when the girls threw themselves into his arms and how the guys seemed to look up to him. The novelty of it all has worn off a while ago though. Now it’s a nuisance. The guy they all seem to admire ? That guy is an absolute asshole and Billy hates him. Though that’s the role he’s played since a very young age, since he was left to face his nightmare all alone. That guy is tough, he’s cold and bulletproof.

If that’s the guy he needs to be to survive, it’s who he will be. Doesn’t mean that’s who he wants to be though.

He maneuvers his way into the kitchen which is way less crowded. As he takes a beer from the counter he can tell why, they’re lukewarm. Disgusting.

“ This is honestly the worst punch I ever had “ (Y/N) exclaims and Billy looks up at her, standing by the bowl of punch, red solo cup in her hand.

“ Beer is lukewarm “

“ Ok great so it’s either pisswarm beer or terribly mixed punch. So much to chose from “ (Y/N) chuckles before grabbing one of the beer cans.

“ I’d rather drink this than whatever that concoction pretends to be. Whoever mixed that has no taste buds, I swear “

As if on cue, Tommy storms through the door, throwing his arms up above his head all the while sloshing his drink everywhere. “ Hargrove ! “

“ Tommy. “

“ Hey man, have you tried my punch yet ? It’s real fuel, my man. Real fuel. “

Tommy’s punch, huh ? That explains a lot. Where Tommy is loyal to those he thinks will benefit him, he is dense as a poundcake.

“ Dude this punch sucks. “

Tommy turns towards (Y/N), who he hadn’t seemed to notice just a minute ago and now she was occupying his full attention.

“ Who are you ? “

“ (Y/N), who are you ? “

“ Tommy ?!”

“ You say this as if I’m supposed to know. Either way, Tommy, your punch tastes disgusting. “

Tommy looks at Billy as if asking for help which only earns him an indifferent shrug from the boy.

“ It’s not. I uh — I’ve only heard good things before. People like it. “

“ Or they just don’t wanna hurt your feelings. Taste it man, it’s shit. “

To Billy’s surprise, Tommy actually walks towards the bowl and pours himself a cup of punch only to screw up his face in disgust at the first taste of the sugary liquid.

“ You might have a point. “

“ What did you put in there ?”

“ Uh — everything. “

“ Everything ? “ Billy asks, inserting himself into the conversation for the first time since it started.

“ Yeah. Just poured in whatever I could find in my dad’s liquor cabinet. Rum, Vodka, cointreau. “

“ Jesus christ “ Billy scoffs and takes another sip of the lukewarm bear.

“ Thomas my friend, maybe you should let other people handle the punch next time. Or at least stick to one kind of alcohol “

Tommy nods and reaches for a can of beer “ I guess. “

As he leaves the kitchen, Billy can’t suppress the chuckle leaving his lips.

“ He’s not usually this reasonable when I tell him he’s being a dumbass. “

“ Probably because you tell him he’s a dumbass. Also you’re not nearly as cute as me. “

She has a point there. Not that he’s ever going to admit it. But she does have a point.

“ Ah shit “ (Y/N) cuts in before Billy can even reply to her comment.

He follows her eyes towards a group of people entering the house. Two of them he’s never seen and the other one is Keith Kinsella. Keith is rich, that’s all Billy knows. He’s rich and his mother drives a Porsche that he gets to borrow every once in a while.

“ What are we looking at ? “ Billy asks, unable to figure out the shift in mood just then.

“ Keith “

“ Why are we looking at Keith ? “

“ He’s my ex boyfriend and I don’t wanna have to socialize with him. “

That is something Billy hasn’t expected. Keith is so — so Keith. He is one of Hawkins typical rich kids who seem to think a bad hair day is the end of all things. A kid who seems so fundamentally different to (Y/N).

“ Keith ? Keith Kinsella. “

“ Look I am not judging your taste in girls, alright. I — he was nice. Then he fucking cheated on me like the pig he is. That’s how I know people from Hawkins High. Keith introduced them to me when we were together. Even introduced me to his other girl, although I didn’t know at that point that that was what she was. I gotta get outta here. “

“ You wanna leave ? “

“ Nah. I just need to get some air. Just — just come find me when you’ve got enough of this. “

With that she finishes her beer and grabs another can before rushing towards the back patio doors leading outside where the rain had stopped a while ago.

Billy tries to mingle, tries to enjoy his night. It just all feels wrong. Like the shine has washed off and all that he’s left with is a dull hollow feeling. All these people don’t give a shit about him and he doesn’t care about them either. It’s nothing personal, really. If this was another life where time hadn’t made him numb and bitter, maybe he’d be friends with a bunch of them. It’s not a different life though. It is here and now.

He moves around the party clouded in a haze. It’s like for the first time since he’s arrived he finally sees his situation for what it is. A desperate measure to cope with his emotional turmoil. He doesn’t like these people, the music sucks, the punch is toxic and the beer is lukewarm. And when before he could push all those thoughts to the side, he can’t do that any longer. Whatever has shifted in him makes him painfully aware that none of his coping mechanisms work anymore. There’s no desire in him to drink his pain away, to fuck a random girl and forget about life for a short moment. He just wants the world to stop for a single second. To be able to breathe.

It’s about an hour later that he steps onto the back patio, the same beer still clutched in his hand. It’s a warm night and he should be able to see the stars though the backyard is illuminated by all kinds of fancy garden lights and he can hardly make out a single star. He wonders if rich people like the Warren’s just don’t give a shit about trivial stuff like looking at the stars. Maybe the artificial light means more to them. He wonders if they know what they’re missing out on.

There have been countless night, back when things were — different. Nights that Billy has spent in his back garden sitting beside his mom and looking at the night sky. And she would tell him stories about all the different constellations. Looking back now, half of her stories were probably made up bullshit, but Billy liked them anyway. They always fascinated him. It felt like the world was so much bigger than he could even begin to grasp. He truly believed there was more out there than the tiny house he was stuck in, where anger lived and sadness and yelling. Always yelling.

Now the sky is just a sky and stars are just stars and made up stories don’t give him hope. Looking at the sky now makes him feel very small. Very insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

(Y/N) sits at the end of the patio, legs tucked beneath her, can of beer by her side.

“ You alright with some company ? “

“ The company you ? “

“ Mmh. “

“ Then sure. Sit down. “

They don’t talk for a moment, just take in what lies before them. A lawn that looks like a carpet it’s that neatly cut. It’s bordered by perfectly symmetrical hedges and at the far end of the garden there’s a wooden pedestal that proudly presents the family’s own hot tub.

“ Do you think people live here ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ I mean — “ (Y/N) starts then takes a breath as if considering her words carefully “ — do you see people actually going about their lives here. Pigging out on chinese takeout on their white suede couch and having a water balloon fight on this lawn ? “

“ Not really no.”

Because it’s a fucking doll’s house. A movie set. People put on a show. They always do.

“ Me neither. I know I am always wishing for better things. A better job, a better apartment, a better car. But honestly, looking at this makes me cherish what I have. Maybe materialistic things really aren’t all that matters. “

“ I like your apartment. “

He really does. It’s so unapologetically her. She’s present in every corner and every crack. Her personality floods the halls and makes them — hers. And he is forever envious of that.

“ Yeah ? Well the couch is yours whenever you feel like staying over. “

Being welcomed into someone’s life is a weird feeling that Billy has entirely forgotten about until just now. He’s so used to being a footnote in someone else’s life that it makes him feel strange when someone deliberately and consciously chooses to welcome him into theirs.

“ Your cat needs to learn how to respect personal space first. “ he laughs but really he already looks forwards to sleeping on her tiny couch again.

“ Can’t believe you dated Keith Kinsella of all people. He’s — he’s Keith.”

“ Yeah so ? “

“ You ever met a single guy called Keith who didn’t turn out to be a complete dumbass ? Like a massive fucking idiot ? Have you ever met a single Keith you could trust ? “ Billy asks, raising his eyebrows in question.

(Y/N) screws up her face in confusion for a moment then shrugs her shoulders “ I guess you have a point. “

“ I always do, babe. “

“ Do you huh ? Well I’ve never met a William I could trust before either. “

“ Good thing no one ever calls me that. It might as well not be my name, honestly. William is a little kid somewhere in California, chasing seagulls by a beach and listening to his parents argue. I’m Billy. Just Billy. “

“ Well, “ (Y/N) exclaims and pushes herself to her feet before reaching out his hand “ I think just Billy is a pretty decent guy. So does just Billy wanna get the fuck outta here ? “

When he takes her hand, the world for a small moment feels like it allows him to breathe. So he takes a breath wishing things could feel like this forever.

- OOO -

After assuring her multiple times that he’s only had half a lukewarm beer and is okay to drive, Billy and (Y/N) cruise around Hawkins for a while with no place to go, no direction, no destination.

That’s until (Y/N) makes him stop by a gas station and wait in the car as she goes inside. She doesn’t answer any questions about why and what but honestly, Billy doesn’t care. He’s just glad to be spending time with someone that a) doesn’t hate his guts and b) isn’t so dull and boring it makes him want to bash his head against a wall repeatedly.

A glance at the clock in his car tells him that it’s just a few minutes to midnight. How ironic. A gas station of all places huh ? It’s weirdly fitting.

(Y/N) hurries back into the car, a small plastic bag clutched in her hand.

“ What’d you get there ? Condoms ? “

“ No you asshole. I’ll show you in — a minute and 12 seconds. “

“ That’s weirdly specific. “

“ Uh-huh. Well can you do me a favor and close your eyes for a moment. ? “

“ Why ?”

“ Billy, “ she says and looks at him in that specific “just do it” kinda way that girls have perfected over the course of time “ can you just do as I tell you, please. Trust me! “

Trust. It’s been a while since Billy trusted a person. And that turned out to be a complete shit-show. So for a second he hesitates. Though as he looks at (Y/N) and the honesty in her eyes he can’t help himself but close his. Can’t help himself but to trust her.

She fumbles around with the bag for a moment then the clicking sound of a lighter echoes through the car. “ If you burn my car you’re toast. “

“ I’m not an idiot. Okay turn around — now “

The car is illuminated by the shine of a single candle stuck onto a Twinkie. (Y/N) smiles the biggest smile he’s seen her smile in — well ever since they met.

“ Happy Birthday, just Billy. “

Billy Hargrove turns 18 years old in the parking lot of a gas station while some shitty pop songs plays on the radio and a girl he hardly knows hands him a birthday cake substitute made out of a Twinkie and a pink birthday candle.

Billy thinks this is probably the best birthday he’s had in a while.

“ How do you know it’s my birthday ? “

“ Told you I read your file “ she laughs and nods towards the Twinkie “ make a wish. I have approximately 12 seconds until the wax starts dripping onto my hands so — please. “

Looking at the candle, Billy remembers the first Birthday wish he’s ever consciously made. He remembers it so vividly because it’s been the same one ever since. He was 5 and mom had gotten him a really cool race car themed cake from the grocery store. It was white and red and yellow and there were lighting bolts on it and a toy car. He loved that cake, thought it was so cool.

He remembers sitting by the kitchen table, cake stood before him, candles burning. He remembers looking up at his mom who smiled with a smile that rivaled the sun in its radiance. Then his eye drifted towards Neil. Neil and his ever present scowl. His inability to show even the smallest amount of compassion. Of love.

5 year old Billy closed his eyes and blew out the candles wishing one thing and one thing only. To never become his father.

As he looks up at (Y/N) and her smile and her gorgeous eyes he thinks that maybe it’s time for a new wish. So instead of wishing to not become Neil, he wishes to be Billy. Just Billy. A better version of the person he is right now. One capable of great things. One worthy of being loved.

A version of himself that deserves (Y/N).

Billy looks back down at the Twinkie. It’s probably the best present he’s received since his mom has left. And that says a lot because he hates Twinkies.

But it’s a present given to him solely because (Y/N) thought it would make him happy. Because she wants to let him know she’s thought of him on his birthday.

Whenever he gets presents from Neil, for his birthdays or Christmas, they come with scowls. They’re empty gestures that are meant to keep up the image of a perfectly normal, perfectly happy family. They’re usually accompanied by a talk about how disappointing Billy’s been lately.

Presents are not fun in the Hargrove household. They’re reminders to keep the image up. Reminders that things could be so much worse. Only could they really ?

“ Do you not like it ? “ (Y/N) questions.

He doesn’t think there’s words to express just how much he likes it. Not the Twinkie but the gesture.

So he doesn’t say anything. He pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head. As if he’s known her all his life.

Maybe that doesn’t matter though. Maybe all it needs is a few days for someone to become an important part of your life. Time is relative anyway, isn’t it ? Time doesn’t fucking matter.

“ No I love it. Thank you, (Y/N)”.

For everything.

- OOO -

The skies open up again at exactly 1:34. Billy looks at the clock just when the rain starts pouring down on them. They’ve spent the last hour and a half munching on various snacks (Y/N) has purchased at the gas station and talking about various people from their High schools.

“ What about Tina then ? “

“ What about her ? “ (Y/N) answers around a bite of an oreo cookie.

“ What’s your take on her ? “

She shrugs “ I guess she’s kinda unconventional compared to some other girls around, like — I don’t know, Nancy Wheeler ? But I mean, good for her. Right ? If that makes her happy who am I to judge her for that. She seems fine with how things are going and I think that’s respectable. “

“ Alright. I agree. “

“ Course you do, you fucked her. “

“ Maybe I didn’t “

(Y/N) only raises her eyebrow.

“ Ok, yeah I did. “

“ I’m jealous of Tina. “ (Y/N) confesses, looking at the raindrops racing each other down the windows.

“ Because I had sex with her ? “ Billy questions, unable to keep the smirk of his lips.

“ No. No not because of that. I — I envy the way she gets to experience things. She just does things. She’s fearless. She doesn’t constantly have to question herself about every little thing she does. You know ? She gets to try things out and properly figure out who she is. “

“ And you don’t ? “

“ I’ve been living on my own since I was 15 and even before, things were — difficult. I don’t have the comfort, the stability to try stuff and figure things out as I go. I have to pay rent, I have to keep my job and make sure my grades are up so I get to keep living the way I do right now. I have to be a responsible adult. There’s no room for me to mess up and make mistakes and learn from them. I always have to have a plan and stick to it and make sure that I do things right the first time. I don’t have parents to fall back on when I fuck up. Sometimes I feel like this whole situation, the emancipation and all that is more restrictive than it is liberating. Sure, I’m good with how things are I just — envy people who get to be teens during their teen years. Who get to mess up and not fear that the consequences might ruin their life. “

He’s never thought of it like that. Ever since she has told him about her situation he’s been nothing but envious of her. But this is a whole new perspective and for the first time Billy realizes that maybe not everything in her life is as great as it seems.

“ Olivia Newton-John “

“ What ? “

“ You asked me about my childhood crush the other day. It was Olivia Newton-John. Mom had me watch Grease one day and I — pow. Little Billy didn’t know what hit him but it hit him hard. “

“ She’s pretty. “

“ Yeah, but I’m more of a Michelle Pfeiffer kinda guy these days. “

“ You’re ridiculous is what you are “ she says with a smile. He decided then that her smile if probably one of the best smiles he’s seen in his 18 years on this earth.

“ Hey Billy ? “

“ Hmm ? “

“ Do you wanna stay on my couch tonight ? I just — it’s your birthday and I don’t want you to be sad or go home to a situation that doesn’t make you feel completely and utterly happy. Because that’s how you should feel on your birthday. I’ll even make you pancakes and bacon. “

He doesn’t need pancakes or bacon. All he needs is a place where he’s wanted. That’s all he needs to be happy and that is just what she’s willing to give.

“ I’d love to. “

- OOO -

As Billy settles down on her couch, he can hear (Y/N) softly humming along to the radio while getting ready for bed.

It’s that annoying “Only You” song playing, the Alison Moyet version. Though with (Y/N) singing along while wiping makeup from her face, it’s suddenly way less annoying.

“ Have you ever thought about doing that for a living ? “ Billy asks, hoping she can hear him over the music and into the other room.

“ Taking off my makeup ? “

“ Singing. “

“ Oh I — oh no. I have to pay rent remember. Can’t be going out there chasing dreams that don’t come true anyway. “

It breaks his heart a little, to hear her say that. It’s not like Billy has a bunch of big dreams he wants to accomplish but he also doesn’t have a talent that lends itself as the basis of big dreams. Back when he was really young he always wanted to be a professional surfer but that dream was squashed when mom left and he hasn’t been on a board since. Sometimes he wonders if he’s even still able to surf properly.

“ I think you should. You sound good ! “

“ Even when singing cheesy pop songs you don’t like ? “ she teases.

“ Don’t be annoying — but yes, even then “

Especially then, he thinks, because she makes them less cheesy and entirely more bearable. He keeps that to himself though.

“ Alright, whatever you say. “ she brushes him off with a smile and goes back to cleaning her face though he swears once she continues she sings just a bit louder.

- OOO -

The racoon is staring at him. He’s 100% sure. It’s staring right into his soul. Dr. K is ramblingon about one thing or another but all Billy can focus on is the stupid taxidermy racoon and the fact that his little beady glass eyes seem to be able to swallow him whole and figure out his deepest darkest secrets.

“ Billy ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ I said I would like to talk to you about your community service. How do you like it ? Please talk me through a typical day of yours. “

Billy pulls his glance away from the critter and towards the doctor before him. It’s his second session and he really wants to be here just as little as he did the first time. It’s not like he’s gonna pour his heart out to this guy anytime soon. To Billy this is a waste of both their time.

“ I get there, we usually set up some things for either arts and crafts or some other group activity. We sit there during those and listen, sometimes I don’t listen I’ll be honest. Afterwards we clean up. Then we have lunch. Then we — “

“ Let me interrupt you there “ Dr. K says moving his too big glasses down the bridge of his too big nose. “ You keep saying we. Who is the other person involved ? “

“ (Y/N) “

“ And (Y/N) is … ? “

He doesn’t want to talk about (Y/N). Not because she’s not important or because he’s ashamed or anything. But (Y/N) is the one good thing in his life right now his — his friend ? She gets him. She understands and most of all she doesn’t judge. He doesn’t want to share any of that with Dr. K or anyone else. This is his little piece of happiness and he’s not ready to show it to the world.

“ She’s just (Y/N) “.

And that’s all she ever has to be.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery fanfiction #dacre montgomery fanfic

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bardicfool · 5 years ago

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36 Things I Have Learned in 36 Years

It’s been a weird day of mental exhaustion and randomly running into things on my hard drive, including this list I made right before I turned 36. And...yeah. Still relevant.

(Caveat: "learned" does not mean "mastered.")

Do no harm but take no shit.

People will tell you chocolate and peanut butter don't go together. They are WRONG.

Boundaries aren't selfish; they're vital. If someone keeps overstepping yours, they don't deserve to be in your life.

Don't wait until "someday" or "when you have more time." If it's important, do it NOW. Even if all you can fit in is 5 minutes a day.

Crying will always suck, but finding the people who make you feel less awful when you do it makes it suck a bit less.

Be into facing your fears.

At least once in your life, go to a country where your race/gender/ethnicity/beliefs/etc. do not match the majority. Be humbled by the fact that the world is so much bigger than you.

Hug trees on a regular basis.

You're not required to forgive everyone for everything. You're not required to only think Happy Thoughts in order to Manifest Your Ideal Life. Emotions aren't "good" or "bad"; they're more complicated than that. They're also all valid, and you need to let yourself experience even the "bad" ones. Try not to dwell on any one emotion too long, though.

People will tell you things like idealism and kindness are "weak" or not "realistic." Those people are jerks. Being "weak" is one of the strongest things you can be. It means life threw massive amounts of shit at you, and you came out of it still seeing the good in things. That takes strength a cynic can only dream of.

Screw high school gym class and everything else in society that tells you you're Not An Athlete. Find an active thing you like (or hate less than the others) and do it. Having muscles is fun.

Don't be afraid to go into the craft store. You don't have to talk to anyone. Just sneak in, grab the yarn, and leave. (Well. Pay for the yarn first.)

Fandom people are some of the most amazing people on the planet.

You are more than your report card. You are more than your score on that test. You are more than your diploma or your degree or whatever else traditional schooling told you you are. Learning is about WAY more than school.

People will try to get you to do or not do things "for your own good." Read the Right Books. Go to the Right College. Get the Right Job. Acknowledge that they're trying to be helpful, then politely ignore them and go do your own thing.

Heal your relationship with money ASAP. You probably grew up learning that money is something to worry about constantly, that rich people are Bad, that poor people are Good, or lots of other stuff that isn't universally true. Read books, go to classes, talk openly about money, get a financial advisor, whatever it takes. This is a long, slow process of unlearning and relearning, and it SUCKS, but it's necessary if you want to have any sort of financial stability or abundance in your life.

Wait for the more expensive, better-tasting mocha.

Give people gifts for no reason.

Try not to get too caught up in the negativity. There will always be outrage porn. You have more important things to do than waste time on it.

When you're feeling particularly cranky, take a nap. Treat yourself like a small kid because that's what your body is telling you it needs.

There's nothing wrong with you.

Being an introvert isn't a bad thing. It just means you should honor the fact that you'll need time to recharge after dealing with people. Probably more time than other people like. Too bad for them; take care of yourself first. (NOTE: This is extra true if you're highly empathic. When you literally take in the emotions and energies of everyone around you, it's VITAL that you take time away from people as much as you need to.)

Don't be embarrassed about your passions.

You may have goals or priorities that don't make sense to other people. You don't have to change that just because someone else says you should.

USE THE LIBRARY. OFTEN.

That thing that makes you both terrified and excited? DO IT.

If you're wondering whether you overreacted to the way someone treated you—that maybe it's not such a big deal that they repeatedly do things that upset or harm you—it's quite possible that you're being emotionally abused. Other people will feed into the situation by telling you it doesn't exist, that you ARE overreacting, that it's not that bad, etc. They're WRONG. Do what you need to do to get out of the situation.

When someone gives you a compliment, the correct response is "Thank you." Not "Oh, it's nothing, really" or whatever. You did something awesome; own that shit.

Video games are not useless time-wasters; they're brilliant forms of storytelling—and sometimes silly ways to relax or hang with friends. See also: comic books, movies, every other form of media someone has decided somehow isn't as good as something else.

SOME PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES NEED MEDICATION IN ORDER TO STAY ALIVE. DEAL WITH IT. (You can still do yoga and meditate if you’d like.)

Don't assume something is impossible until you've done your research to confirm it is.

Be prepared to ask the people you love for advice. Also be prepared to tell them you're sharing but don't want/need advice at this time. They may not get it right away, so gently remind them if you have to.

Comedians are sometimes more truthful than "impartial" news or experts. Tricksters see things the way they actually are and aren't afraid to laugh at it.

When all else fails, sing loudly.

Pay attention to the people in your life who remember the little things--your food restrictions, your current projects, the stuff you're struggling with, the stuff you're excited about. Spend more time with those people.

Tell yourself a story every night before you go to bed.

Your turn! What have you been learning lately? Or, y'know, in the last 36 years?

#writing life #writing inspiration #adulting #what I've learned #I'm honestly not quite sure what this is #it just felt important to share it #our experiences make us the writers we are #also lolz @ me for being a fckin coffee snob

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angelkitty54 · 5 years ago

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Someone on AO3 requested it, so here’s part the next of This AU. I have so many ideas for this AU... this ended up being really long...

Also here’s some songs that make me think of this AU: “Bad Idea” and “You Matter to Me” from the Waitress musical.

...

So, there’s no scourge or prophecy in this AU but the war with Nifflheim is still happening. The Oracle is a religious figure, and much beloved by the people, hence why the Empire originally wanted to obtain control over Tenebrae. But lately the Emperor is feeling threatened by Lunafreya.

She’s is beloved by the masses, and though her brother has been indoctrinated, and she lacks any real power, it’s clear she still has a mind of her own. So it’s decided that Luna ought to be replaced with a younger cousin, who has also been indoctrinated and is far easier to manipulate.

It doesn’t matter to them that this girl doesn’t possess the powers of the Oracle. The powers that be in Nifflheim are not religious. They couldn’t care less about the magic’s of the Oracle line. If nothing else, they’ll just have Ravus (who is a beta btw) marry and produce a kid at some point.

But first, Luna must disappear. It will be a tragic accident, or perhaps even a plot by the enemy. Either way she has to go.

And yet, for all that Ravus has been thoroughly brainwashed by the Empire, he still loves his sister above all else. He’s not just going to stand by and do nothing while Luna’s life is in danger.

So, swallowing his pride and hatred for the Lucian King, Ravus secretly makes a deal. Luna is spirited away to Insomnia seeking political asylum. To her it feels a little like abandoning her duties and her people, but (as it’s been since the Niffs invaded years ago) she has little say in the matter.

Life is Terrible for omegas in Insomnia, and in Nifflheim it’s just as bad. The only difference being that the Niffs are open about their cruelty, whereas Lucians like to sugar coat it. Luna can’t tell which is worse.

Luna knows exactly what would have happened to her had she presented as anything other than an alpha. And like Noctis, her status and birthright would not have been enough to save her. But she never would have thought such a thing would have happened to him.

Her magic and status as Oracle is the one thing that Nifflheim couldn’t take form her. It strikes a cord in her, seeing Noctis stripped of his own magic and status as prince. And Luna, well, she knows better than anyone what it’s like to be a prisoner in your own home...

The first time she met Noctis he was a shy, damaged child in a wheelchair. The second time he is a boy still not yet a man, yet he is pregnant and far more damaged, for more broken, than the child she met ten years ago.

She just can’t understand how this could have happened.

It’s typical alpha behavior to offer food to omegas (to show they are a good provider, someone who can put food on the table), but Noctis won’t eat anything Ignis or Gladio give him.

After everything they’ve done to him, all of Noct’s instincts scream that Ignis and Gladio are unsafe alphas. He physically cannot eat the food they provide, which means he’s not eating period. They’ve started force feeding him, which only causes him more distress and he ends up throwing it all back up again.

Furthermore, Noctis hasn’t been sleeping. How can he when he sandwiched between two unsafe alphas (his captors, his rapists) at night? There isn’t a single place safe from them in his home. He’s trapped in an unsafe home with two aggressive, untrustworthy, dangerous alphas. Sleep is impossible when he’s on high alert at all times.

The pregnancy is hard on his body too. He doesn’t want this baby. It’s little more than a lump of cells, not even a person yet, and he already despises it. To Noct, it’s nothing more than a parasite, slowing draining his life away.

“It’s just hormones.” The so-called experts say. “Everything will be fine once the baby is here.” They diagnose him with prenatal depression, and largely brush it off as being “normal” for omegas experiencing their first pregnancy.

Nevermind that Noctis is miserable, that he’s wasting away. That he has been suffering ever since he presented.

And it’s ironic, but before Noct presented, Ignis and Gladio had actually been good alphas. Ignis made Noct feel cared for, while Gladio made him feel safe. They had a healthy dynamic before. If they just stayed the way they were, then Noct would have felt safe with them, might have even accepted them as his alphas. But they didn’t.

The fact of the matter remains, Noctis is dying, and nothing seems to help (naturally, given their version of “helping” is just to be more abusive and controlling).

As an unmated alpha, Luna would normally never be allowed near Noctis, but as it’s the Oracle’s duty to offer guidance and healing, well...

Luna knows how to navigate a conversation peacefully while holding an unpopular opinion. She knows how to probe and question, without rocking the boat. She’s had a lot of practice after all, though she never thought it’d be like this with the likes of Regis and Noct’s friends...

She’s able to gain access to Noctis, alone, without guards or his alphas hovering threateningly over their shoulders. She’s the Oracle, and an old friend. Who is more trustworthy than her?

The fact that Noctis seems so much better after speaking to her just once helps her case quite a bit too.

Luna is the only person who speaks to Noct looking him in the eye. She doesn’t talk over him, or at him, or to his alphas instead of him. She doesn’t touch him without permission. She doesn’t crowd him and keeps a comfortable distance. She’s the only person who truly sees him; sees whats happening to him and understands it’s wrong.

Luna is a good, safe alpha. More than that, she’s still his friend. Where everyone else abandoned him, Luna did not. Even if it’s only for a few hours every other day, she provides a safe haven.

She tries to undo whatever Regis did to seal Noct’s magic, but is unsuccessful, and Regis isn’t sharing what he knows either. Every time she brings it up, he manages to brush the topis aside. Sometimes he even makes his actions sound quite logical.

But Luna knows it’s not right. One look at Noctis is all it takes to realise the truth. It seems that no one else is willing to truly see him though...

Noctis has been her closest friend and confidant over the years, even when they were apart. She wants so badly to help him, but it seems she’s just as powerless here beside him, as she was when they were separated...

As Noct’s pregnancy progresses, his mood swings violently from one end to the other. With Luna he is almost happy, hopeful even. But at other times he is utterly inconsolable. All the while, the pair grow closer and closer.

They don’t mean to fall into bed together. It just sort of happened. They know what they’re doing is a terrible idea, dangerous even, but it’s difficult deny their feelings. Noct has always provided an escape for Luna, and visa versa, and this is just one more way of escaping from their unhappy lives.

For Luna, she has been trapped in a cage for so long, even now, she’s simply traded her old cage for a somewhat nicer one. For Noct, well if he had no choice but to belong to someone, he’d rather belong to Luna. They both want something that’s entirely theirs.

Still, is dangerous and if they get caught, well, never seeing the other again will probably be the least of their worries...

Noct’s 18th birthday has come and gone. In the past he would have faced it with pride and trepidation for the future for it had meant he was one step closer to being king. Now though, well, there’s very little for him to look forward to...

And while others celebrate, dread begins to fill his entire being as his due date is fast approaching...

TBC...

#ffxv #lunoct #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #alpha beta omega #abo dynamics #angst #omegaverse #this got long again

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