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screamin-abt-haikyuu · 3 years ago

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A Comedy of Errors. Chapter 3: The Way of the Aces.

Please read the previous chapters before proceeding!!

Click here to read Chapter 1: Negotiations.

Click here to read Chapter 2: Suga the Setter.

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Background: Y/N is a transfer student who joined Karasuno High in her second year because her family shifted to Miyagi. She is a volleyball player and plays as a wing spiker (ace) in the Girl’s Volleyball team.

Pairing: Karasuno x fem reader || Romantic Pairing: Asahi x fem reader

NOTE: Y/N plays volleyball in this. I am not familiar with all the rules of the game so pls 2 forgive if I get any of the technicalities wrong.

Genre: Fluff and comfort with sprinkles of comedy this time! || SFW

A/N: At last, the final chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I really poured my entire soul into this. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Say, since you guys are already here. Why don’t you stay and watch us practice?" Asahi's lifespan is being shortened with every word as Suga invites Y/N and Michimiya to watch them practice. Asahi waits with bated breath. Even though he is extremely nervous, a part of him does want you to stay. So, when you do say yes, he doesn't know whether to feel happy or run out of the gym screaming. As they walk off to warm up, Suga whispers to him, "I know you're probably thinking about how you're going to fuck up your play and embarrass yourself in front of her. But while you're at it, maybe you should also think about what will happen if you actually play well." Asahi nods. "Suga." "Hmm?" "Thank you. For everything you just did. I really do appreciate it." "Of course! I'm just glad it worked out well." "And you are right, I do like her. I don't know her much but I would like to." "Aha, finally some truth around here! Well, then we just gotta make sure you give her a show worth remembering!" Suga says, winking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michimiya had been watching the game intently, as was evident by her gasps and comments on everything. But you? You hadn't been able to keep your eyes off of Asahi the entire game. So much so, that you had barely given a second thought to the first years' amazing quick attack or Nishinoya's outstanding libero skills.

Asahi's spikes, his serves, his receives, his posture, his spirit, and his determination had you just...rapt with attention.

"In case you are wondering, yes, he is single." Michimiya's whisper startles you.

"W-what?" you start to blush. "I'm just taking notes!"

"But I didn't even specify who I was talking about."

You turn redder.

"He's really nice too, you know. A very genuine and kind person. I think you two would make a cute couple."

Your face is so hot now that you're sure you'll hear a sizzle any moment. You turn your head back towards the game to avoid Michimiya's gaze.

"I- I don't know who you are talking about."

Michimiya chuckles. "Of course you don't."

Even though you can feel Michimiya's gaze on you, you can't help but smile as you watch Asahi land another beautiful spike in the opponent's court.

You didn't know, of course, that you being around and watching him had been a huge boost of motivation for him to perform at his peak. You didn't know how he had been wondering what you were thinking about him the entire game. You didn't know how hard it had been for him to not glance at you after every move he made, just to see your reaction.

But he didn't know how you had felt either. He didn't know how your heart rate sped up every time he came on to serve. He didn't know you had also felt frustrated whenever his spike got shut down, feeling as though you had been shut down. He didn't know how you had wanted to shout and cheer him on but you hadn't because you didn't want to come off as a weirdo.

Truly, you would make a good couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Practice is now over. Asahi's team won both the practice matches (of course they did, Suga would not have had it any other way). You and Michimiya walk over to the third years. As Michimiya starts gushing to Daichi about their game, you turn to Asahi.

"You were really - glorious, brilliant, like a God, I wish you were spiking me instead - amazing out there," you say, your eyes full of admiration.

Asahi instantly turns a deep shade of red.

"Th-thank you." He says with a smile.

"See, I told you he is great!" Suga says with a proud smile on his face.

"You were right. Karasuno really has a very talented ace."

"No, it has two of them," Asahi says, looking at you with a smile.

Now it is your turn to blush.

"Aah, I wish. I'm not quite there yet. I'm definitely nowhere close to your level," you say.

"I would love to help you any way I can."

"I would be honoured to learn from you," you say with a bow.

Suga piped up, "It's Saturday tomorrow! The boys' gym will be free till 10AM. If you want, we can practice here early morning. Say, around 7? Asahi can teach you the techniques and I can set for you both. We'll ask Daichi and Michimiya too if they want to join." and before you can answer, Suga is off to ask Daichi and Michimiya.

Wow, he really doesn't wait for an answer, huh.

Asahi looks at you and he can see you're a little unsure. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... I really don't want to bother you guys so early in the morning like that."

"It's no problem at all, we usually practice early on the weekends anyway." Asahi says with a reassuring smile. That seems to melt your doubts away.

Suga walks back to you. "I've spoken to the two of them, they will join us but a little later."

"It's sorted, then." you say, smiling.

Of course, Asahi was the one who ended up walking you home that night.

Of course, Suga was "late" for the morning practice the next day, giving you and Asahi a lot of time to get comfortable around each other get nervous and DIE.

Of course, situations like these happened more than a few times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before you know it, two months have passed. With Asahi and Michimiya's help, you improved tremendously and the Karasuno Girls Volleyball team cleared the first set of qualifying rounds for the Spring Interhigh. And so did the boys.

During this time, you and Asahi have become really good friends. Since you two live in the same area, you often end up going to school and walking home together, giving you a lot of time to talk about every topic under the sun. It took a while but you are now very comfortable around each other. In fact, Asahi himself wonders how he is able to tell you things so easily.

Both of your friend groups (and your entire school, also the neighbouring schools, random passersby, street dogs, birds flying past - you know, basically anyone with eyes) can see that you two are absolutely head-over-heels for each other. The only two people who don't know it are you two.

The way Asahi had gone out of his way to teach you everything he knew; how patiently he had walked you through every technique, every mistake; how he had sweetly asked you for permission every time before correcting your posture and showing you the right finger placement (mind outta the gutter fellas, we talking about volleyball here); how every time he did that, you felt a jolt of electricity whenever his fingers touched you (I promise it is still about volleyball); how he cares about even the littlest things regarding you; how every time he smiles reassuringly at you, the world feels all right again; how supportive and encouraging he has been through it all: You have fallen for him harder than you have ever fallen in your entire life.

And you just keep falling harder and harder every moment you spend with him. He has become your comfort now. No matter how stressed or nervous you are, just having Asahi around makes you feel much calmer and confident.

Asahi, on the other hand, has smiled more in these last two months than he has ever smiled. He can't help it, being around you just makes him feel like he is floating. He was blown away by how talented and hard working you are and is so proud of the progress you have made.

The way you are so kind to him. The way you always speak up whenever someone makes fun of him. The way you always hype him up and believe in him. The way the world seems to stop every time you smile at him. The way your laugh has become his favourite sound in the world. Asahi could not be more enamoured by you even if he tried. You too, are his comfort now. He knows he can talk to you about every "sentimental" topic on earth without being made fun of.

The only problem is: You both are afraid that this comfort you find in each other will be ruined if either of you confesses and the other does not reciprocate your feelings. It is now a waiting game to see who spikes their ball into the other's court first, if at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are shaking. Partly with excitement, partly with nerves. After defeating Tohoku High, only one school remains between you and the nationals: Niiyama Joshi, one of the most powerful schools that always makes it to nationals when it comes to the Miyagi prefecture.

The boys' game had ended earlier than yours and they had already left the stadium. You were absolutely delighted to hear that they beat Seijoh. Now, they have to face Shiratorizawa, another powerhouse school that always makes it to the nationals.

You and Asahi both have your own mountains to climb tomorrow.

As you are walking out of the stadium with your teammates, you spot something.

"Hey, you guys go ahead, I will be right there." you say and turn back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a very long day but you cannot sit still at all. You cannot stop thinking about the match tomorrow. Your hands are sweaty knees weak, arms are heavy because you keep clenching your fists open and shut as you pace around your bedroom. You had hoped to be able to meet Asahi and maybe feel a little better but by the time you had reached school, the boys had already left. You know how big a day it is for him tomorrow too so you don't want to bother him by asking him to meet. However, you should at least text him and congratulate him on his victory. You open your phone and see you already have a message from him:

Asahi: Hey, I heard you guys beat Tohoku! Congratulations! I knew you could do it.

You smile.

You: Thanks, I still can't believe we did that!!! Congratulations on beating Seijoh!! I heard it was a close match.

Asahi: Thanks! Yeah, it was anyone's game by the end. It was really intense. But we managed to win. Also, I had full faith that you would make it!

You: Damn, wish I could have seen it. Sooo, Shiratorizawa next. How are you feeling?

Asahi: Really, really nervous. They're really strong and I don't think anyone believes we can beat them.

You: Well, you just gotta prove them wrong, then! I truly believe that you guys can do it.

Asahi: I really hope so. Anyway, what about you? How are you feeling about going up against Niiyama tomorrow?

You: Honestly, I cannot stop shaking and thinking about tomorrow. We are so close and I just don't want to screw up and let my team down.

Asahi: Can you get out of your house?

You stare at your phone for a moment before replying.

You: Yeah, I can sneak out the backdoor. Why?

Asahi: Sneak out after 5 minutes. I'll be there.

You: You sure about this? It's late and you need to rest for tomorrow too.

Asahi: I'm sure and I'm already on my way.

You grab your schoolbag and quietly make your way out the backdoor. You see Asahi standing outside your house. He's wearing a purple t-shirt and is carrying a bag in his hand. He smiles and waves at you as you make your way towards him. The knots in your stomach are already starting to loosen.

"Hey, Asahi!"

"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry for making you sneak out like this but... I couldn't help myself when I read your messages."

"No, it's completely alright. Actually, to be honest, I was kind of hoping to meet you too. I-I always feel calmer after talking to you."

Asahi blushes.

"R-really?"

"Yeah."

"I always feel better after talking to you too."

You can feel the heat starting to build in your face as you smile at him in response.

Asahi continues, "I-I know I am not good with words. But I want to tell you that I know exactly how you feel. You won't let anyone down. I have seen you play and really, you have nothing to worry about. You have made it this far and you are strong enough to take it further."

His words make you want to cry. He has always shown so much faith in you. You look at the ground and don't say anything as you try to hold back your tears.

"-And I - uh - got you something that I thought might make you feel better."

You look up in surprise and you see him reaching his hand into the bag he brought with him. As you watch, he pulls out a light blue cloth. It's a t-shirt.

You gasp as you recognize what it is.

He holds the t-shirt open by the sleeves so that you can read what's written.

It's a "The Way of the Ace" T-shirt.

"Oh my God!!" you say loudly.

He is completely thrown off by your reaction as you throw your head back and laugh.

Oh no. Does she think this is lame? Asahi starts to panic.

You reach into your own bag and pull out a similar looking light blue cloth. Asahi's eyes widen.

"I bought this today at the stadium for you. I know how important tomorrow's match is for you and I knew you'd be nervous so I wanted to give you this as a motivational sort of good luck thing." you say as you hold out a larger sized "The Way of the Ace" T-shirt.

All of your tension and nerves melt away as you both stand there laughing and holding the T-shirts.

"I hope I got the right size," Asahi says as you exchange the t-shirts.

"Same."

"It's perfect!" You both say at the same time and erupt into a hearty laugh again.

"Thank you, Asahi. I feel a lot better now. Really, thank you for everything. We wouldn't have made it this far if not for your help."

"It was all you, Y/N. All I did was show you the way. You walked it on your own."

"Yeah, you showed me the way of the Ace." you say, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The score is 30-31 and it is match point for Karasuno Girls' High School against Niiyama Joshi for what seems to be like the 100th time. It has just been ties after ties after ties and every set has stretched well into the 30s. Somewhere at the beginning of the fifth set, you looked up to see the Karasuno boys piling into the stands to cheer your team on. From the looks of it, they won their match against Shiratorizawa.

Playing such intense 5 sets back to back has taken a massive toll and the players on both sides of the court are at their limit. However, it is now your turn to serve and if you manage to get this point, you will be through to the nationals.

"Y/N, GIVE US A NICE SERVE!!" the boys cheer for you from the audience.

Your knees are quaking and you feel like you can barely stand, much less run or jump. You are so out of breath that you feel like you are going to pass out any minute. As you somehow force yourself to walk into position, you can feel your knees buckling under you.

As you stand there, waiting for the referee to blow the whistle, your eyes instinctively search for Asahi. Even though he is far, you can easily spot him due to his height and the familiar light blue t-shirt he has changed into after his match.

As your eyes meet, Asahi cups his hands around his mouth and BELLOWS.

"JUST ONE MORE. YOU GOT THIS!"

The whistle blows.

BAM.

You barely have time to realize what happened as you are tackled to the ground by your teammates. There's a lot of hugging and crying and shouting.

As you recover from your shock, it finally registers. It was a service ace. Niiyama's libero had tried to dig the ball but it had bounced out of bounds.

You've won.

Tears of exhaustion and exhilaration start to flow from your eyes as you hug your teammates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet are killing you as you walk out of the locker room towards the bus, wearing your own WotA t-shirt. It's late and the corridor is silent and empty as you're one of the very last few people to leave.

"I told you you could do it."

You look up and see Asahi standing a little further ahead, smiling at you.

You don't say anything, you just walk up to him and hug him. He seems taken aback but only for a bit as, barely a second later, you feel his large arms wrap around you tightly.

You both stand there for a while, both too exhausted to speak but finding comfort in each other's arms. It just feels so...right. Like this is exactly where and how you are meant to be.

When you finally break apart, you can see that Asahi is looking a little nervous.

"S-say, Y/N. I was wondering... i-if you would maybe want to go on a- on a date with me?"

Your eyes widen in surprise.

"It is completely okay if you don't! I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anythi-"

"Yes, yes, YES! I will go on a date with you."

"Really? You really want to go out with me?"

"Yes. Honestly, Asahi, I fell for you a long time ago. I was just afraid of freaking you out and ruining our friendship. So, I didn't say anything."

Asahi let out a little laugh. "It's freaky how we think so similarly because same." He takes your hand in his. "I fell for you the day I met you. And I just kept falling harder and harder the more I got to know you. I just never imagined you would feel the same way for me too."

"I do, I do, I so do! I always have!"

Both of you have the biggest smiles on your faces as you stand there holding hands and looking into each other's eyes.

You suddenly start to blush furiously.

"So...um...since we usually seem to be thinking the same thing. Um, would you like to kiss me?"

Asahi's eyes open so wide that you're worried they'll pop out of their sockets any minute. He is blushing furiously as he simply nods and leans in.

Your heart is thundering as your lips meet. But, it's Asahi. He kisses you with such tenderness and affection that you just melt into him.

The two aces of Karasuno walk out of the stadium hand-in-hand, wearing their matching WotA T-shirts. You're going to nationals, you've found some really great friends and you have found each other. Life is good.

FIN.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, I am so happy with how this turned out. I was stuck for a while trying to decide where to go with this story and I was panicking a little about not updating sooner. But I am glad I did not hurry this up because I really LOVE the turn this took in my head which it wouldn't have if I hadn't let the ideas stew in my mind for a while.

I know this was a long read but I really hope you guys enjoyed it and it was worth the read and the wait.

Likes, comments, reblogs and follows are always appreciated. Please DO NOT repost

Buy me a Kofi! <3

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makeste · 4 years ago

Note

I read the meta you reposted about anyone being able to become a hero, and I would just like to give some thoughts. I agree it is wrong to think in terms of good vs bad victims and measure everyone as the same. Just because Shoto never killed anyone in response to his abuse and Toya did doesn't mean that Toya was always an evil person looking for an excuse to break bad. Different people break from different things.

these are all good, well-reasoned points, anon, but I disagree with a few of them. let me try to explain.

so the thing about this whole atonement process is that it’s hugely complex, and there isn’t really any kind of roadmap for Endeavor to follow when it comes to trying to make things right. I actually appreciate that his arc is written in such a way that his epiphany doesn’t just happen all at once, and you can see how his approach gradually turns from one that’s still mostly selfish and centered on him, to one that’s actually focused on his kids and what they need. you can see the stages he progresses through as the series goes on.

1. I’d argue that it all starts when he first gets yelled at by Deku (“Todoroki isn’t you!”). he realizes that maybe this kid has got a point, and that treating his son as an extension of him rather than as his own person might just be sorta shitty. so he files that away, but we don’t really see much of a change in him yet.

2. then a few months later he gets thrust into the #1 hero role, which has the interesting psychological effect of forcing him to see past himself and his ego for perhaps the first time in his life. he suddenly finds himself in this position as the new Symbol, and starts to feel the responsibility of that, and it basically triggers the entire rest of his redemption arc. because once he starts looking outside himself, he starts to realize the impact his actions have on other people, including his family. for the first time, he starts looking at the situation with fresh eyes, and realizes how much he’s hurt them.

3. quick little detour here, I feel like it’s important to note that Endeavor -- like many abusers -- actually does love his family and never intentionally set out to hurt them. but the problem is that he is so self-centered for most of his life that he never stops to consider that his family and his kids don’t simply exist to serve his own purposes. he abuses Shouto during his training but I’ll bet you he himself never thought of it as actual abuse, just him being hard on him in order to toughen him up. he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Shouto by making him strong in the hopes that he’ll one day surpass All Might, because that’s always been his goal, and so he just unilaterally decides that should be Shouto’s goal too. he wants the best for him, but it never enters his mind to consider that his son is his own person who, gasp, might not actually want the same things that Endeavor wants. btw I should clarify that absolutely none of this excuses anything he does, holy shit. but I feel like it’s important to mention, because many people complain that the change in Endeavor happens too abruptly and is too unrealistic, but I don’t think that’s true at all. it’s just that people don’t like to acknowledge that abusers are still human (meaning that anyone can become one if they’re not careful to consider how they treat others). Endeavor’s actions are monstrous, but they stem from realistic places, and I think that it’s a very well-thought-out character arc.

4. and so basically, once that change finally starts happening, it’s not that he suddenly starts loving his kids all of a sudden out of nowhere. it’s that he finally starts loving them for their own sake, rather than his. for the first time, he starts loving them selflessly rather than selfishly. and it’s not a change that just happens overnight, because he is so used to everything revolving around him that even after he starts realizing what he’s doing wrong, it still takes him a while to break free from those patterns.

5. and so for example, he suddenly becomes wildly supportive of Shouto and his training and attempts to go full-blown helicopter parent. because clearly that’s what Shouto needs, right?? all those years he was trying to make him into his own personal mini-me rather than loving his son for who he was and supporting him as his own person. and so we see him hounding Shouto in texts to let him teach him his Ultimate Technique (but not because he wants him to surpass All Might, but because he just wants him to be the best hero he can be! it’s different now!), and attending his training sessions to cheer him on from the stands like an obnoxious soccer mom. and afterwards he tells him he’s proud of him, and that he wants to become someone Shouto can be proud of.

6. so you can see there’s some progress at this point, but at the same time he’s still making a lot of the same mistakes. his intentions by this point have genuinely changed! but he’s still looking at the situation from his own point of view, and not taking into consideration how his son feels about the forced attempts at reconciliation. he’s thinking ‘I was a shit father, I need to make it up to him by being supportive.’ but he doesn’t stop to consider that Shouto might not WANT his support by this stage in the game; that he might, in fact, not want anything to do with him at all.

7. and this doesn’t change until after his battle at Fukuoka, when he has dinner with his family and Natsuo blows up at him. he basically lays it all out on the table, but this is the most important part:

I am willing to bet that he did not, in fact, get it until pretty much that moment, actually. because up until this point, he’s been doing exactly as Natsuo said -- trying to make nice, trying to show that he’s changed, and to be a good father now. but he doesn’t stop to consider (a) just how much hurt he really has caused them, and (b) just how impossible it is to simply erase all of that. the pain Natsuo’s expressing here isn’t something people can simply get over. and I don’t think Enji realizes until this moment that he was still going about this in the wrong way.

8. and that, lastly, is what finally leads to this:

he finally realizes that it’s not about him. and apologizes, but makes it clear that Natsuo does not have to forgive him, and that he doesn’t want to burden him by making him feel otherwise. he acknowledges Natsuo’s feelings, acknowledges the pain he’s caused, and realizes that what he and the others need is space. and this is when he makes the decision to build the new home for them and Rei, so that they can finally start to move on -- without him, if that’s what it takes.

so this is basically the progression of Endeavor’s redemption arc up to this point. and I’m sorry it took so long to recap, I didn’t mean for it to lol, but there were a lot of parts I didn’t want to just gloss over. so now, here are a few last points I want to make about his arc.

1. first off, it’s important to consider the timeline here. when making your point earlier, you talked about Endeavor building the new home for his kids, but how “on the other hand” he kept trying to force his relationship with Shouto. however the order of these things is switched around. because Endeavor building the house is something that happens at the end of his arc. and in fact we have not seen him try to force anything with Shouto since then. this is important to acknowledge because it shows that he is learning and that it’s not just an insincere case of one step forward, two steps back. the progress he’s making here is genuine; he really is trying not to be selfish anymore.

2. I know I said “the end” of his arc just now, but in fact we have no reason to believe that this is the end of it. every time I see an argument about “well why hasn’t he done this yet, or why hasn’t he said this”, I wonder why people assume that just because he hasn’t done it yet, it means we’re never going to see it. for instance, he still hasn’t apologized to Shouto specifically for the way he abused him all those years. but just because we haven’t seen it yet doesn’t mean that it won’t happen.

3. fandom has this tendency, when it comes to characters they don’t like and don’t want to see redeemed, to continuously move the goalposts so that no matter what that character does and how much they change, they can continue to justify why it’s not enough. I’m going to take a quick break from Endeavor and use Bakugou as the example here instead, since I think it’s easier to summarize.

“Bakugou is such an asshole, all he cares about is himself, he’s definitely going to become a villain.”

[Bakugou refuses to join the villains] “well whatever, he’s still a jerk, just look at how he can’t even work together with others and refuses to help anyone.”

[Bakugou learns to Win and Save, and unlocks the Power of Teamwork] “well whatever, he still doesn’t care about anyone else. look at how he’s still an asshole to Deku even now.”

[Bakugou starts helping Deku train and learn how to control OFA] “whatever, that’s literally the bare minimum, there’s still no proof that he even cares about him.”

[Bakugou literally takes a life-threatening blow to save Deku] “whatever, it’s like he said, his body moved on its own so there’s still no proof he really cares.”

[Bakugou wakes up from a two-day coma, immediately asks about Deku’s health, and rushes to his bedside] “whatever, I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss over it, he hasn’t even apologized to him yet.”

and so on and so forth. and I guarantee that once he finally does apologize, it will then shift to “well why couldn’t he just have done that in the first place.” but you get my point.

basically, there are certain characters whose redemption arcs fandom will actively continue to deny no matter what. Bakugou is one of those characters, and so is Endeavor. and I’m not saying that in order to call those people out, because everyone has their own boundaries of forgiveness, and I don’t have the right to dictate anyone else’s, just like they don’t have the right to dictate mine. everyone has their own line, and where it’s drawn is different for each person. like for me, the one particular character who can fuck off for all eternity as far as I’m concerned is Overhaul (although I admit I am still curious to see what Horikoshi has planned for him post-prison break in spite of all that). and there are a lot of other people for whom Endeavor crosses their own personal line. and you know what, that’s fine.

but here’s the thing -- if you actually want to debate his redemption arc with people, you should be willing to do so in good faith. meaning that if you really do think Endeavor is unforgiveable (and I’m speaking now in general terms, not addressing you specifically anon), just go ahead and say so! but don’t come up with an arbitrary list of criteria that he needs to meet in order to qualify for redemption, only to keep on adding more and more items to the list. and most importantly, don’t assume that your criteria are the only valid criteria and that you can speak for everyone else. and especially don’t act like you have a right to go around slapping people with labels like “abuse apologist” just because they don’t share the same opinions as you about a fictional character.

anyway! so as usual, a post that I originally meant to be only a few paragraphs long turned out to be a whole damn essay, I apologize. but anyways anon, basically I share the same opinion as you as far as the mindset that Endeavor needs to have for his atonement (i.e. that it’s not about him). however, I think he’s made more progress than this ask gives him credit for, and I don’t think any of it has been fake. that being said, it’s still a process, and his biggest tests are yet to come. whatever ends up happening, I hope the outcome ends up being one that the rest of his family can find peace with.

#endeavor #bakugou katsuki #'makeste why is the bakugou tag there this is supposed to be a meta about endeavor' yes; well; uh; you see; er...#anyways #bnha meta #endeavor meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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fukurodaze · 4 years ago

Text

five stars: part 3 | three words

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc: 4.1k warnings: swearing

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you hate mornings.

they feel restless and empty and full of longing to have something worth waking up to. sometimes it’s hard to even get up when your mind is full and your heart is worried.

but you do not hate suna rintarou. in fact, you’ve learnt a few new things about him.

one, he has a little sister.

two, he has a nice laugh.

three, he is only “occasionally lactose intolerant”, but not if he “tries his best”.

the things you already knew - his volleyball position, birthday, grade, home town - were never brushed up on, but somehow made their way to the forefront of your memory the more time you spent with him. you began to see him as simply ‘suna’, instead of ‘the boy you helped with physics last year’.

you wonder how you ended up spending every morning of the last two weeks with him. he seems nonchalant, almost lazy, when you see him around with his teammates: back slouched and face relaxed almost all the time. yet, when you let him walk you to class, he’s talkative. he’s eager. he’s walking slowly so you can keep up.

it’s a bit of a question for you, why he’s suddenly popped up into your life once more after waking you up on an unlucky monday morning.

(he had told you that you had slept with your eyes wide open, and it took you some time to process everything as your chest fluttered with embarrassment.)

then again, you’re not complaining.

“if you notice over here,” suna leans into your side, pointing at the phone in your hand as the two of you walk through the school, “there’s a little cockroach at the corner of the room going out.”

“oh my god,” you laugh. the video on suna’s phone displays today’s fight between the miya twins at the gym.

it’s your third week with him.

now, as he lets you hold his phone, the literal embodiment of all the volleyball team’s blackmail material, there comes the familiar urge of yours to steal a few glances, adjust your hair, or maybe do something absurd and see how he’d react.

it’s a strange feeling. stranger than when he walked you to your classroom once and you, in your half-awake genius, slipped him a tube of your lip balm in the open pocket of his bag in case you didn’t have an excuse to see him again.

“what were they fighting about again?”

suna shrugs, “osamu was having a bad day, and atsumu got pissed, so, naturally, osamu got pissed.”

“shit. everyone was crowding around i couldn’t even see them throwing punches,” you mutter.

“anything that the twins do usually gets a crowd, really.”

you pass the phone back to him. “yeah, the twins are crazy popular. especially with the girls. they’re like idols.”

“right,” suna pockets his phone, “you’re popular too.”

your brows are furrowed. “stop it.”

suna playfully tenses his shoulders up, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, “you’re, like, the kind of person that organises the culture festival and is like the secretary for the student council.”

“i actually am.”

“you probably are.”

you two pause when the sentences come out at the same time, and it takes no time for the two of you to laugh it out, lightly, with snickers and giggles that you’ve never really heard from his mouth.

“you know, i finally got to watch a movie last night,” you begin, changing the conversation.

he looks at you slowly, sweetly. “oh yeah? what did you watch?”

“uh, totoro...”

he stays silent, and you find his head tilted and his eyebrows raised. he looks amused. you ask him, “what?”

“solid movie.”

there is a questioning look that you give him, and you know he sees it, pupils focused to your side. he speaks again, “you like ghibli movies?”

“yeah. i think everyone does. don’t you?”

suna looks like he’s staring down the sky, thinking. he hums, and then tells you, “i don’t.”

now he exaggerates his normally poor posture, chin tilting up to get a view of your reaction. the two of you keep walking, in an unusual silence, and you’re left watching his eyes as they stay indifferent.

“didn’t you just say totoro was a ‘solid movie’?”

the boy looks ahead, “yeah, so?”

you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “whatever. i don’t believe you.”

suna has a satisfied smile on his face. he makes sure you don’t know it.

the two of you enter the building, even taking extra time to go to each others’ lockers. it’s only been two weeks since he had seen you laying on the bleachers, eyes embarrassingly open; two weeks since he had walked you to class the first time; two weeks since he had really started to know you.

when you reach your classroom, suspicious eye contact from classmates and the increasingly busy hallway tell you that it’s time for him to go to class, too. he sneaks in a cynical remark, and you playfully hit him on the shoulder, for the first time.

“i’m betting you and him get together by august.” your friend, honoka, chimes in as you enter the classroom. your neighbouring seat mates agree.

you’re starting to look forward to mornings.

unbeknownst to you, suna has a deadline.

the interhigh is only a week away, and so he’s told himself that he’ll do one thing before completely shutting himself out for volleyball training: asking you out on a date.

in other words, he is fed up with the volleyball team’s rendition of his “showoff mode”. he doesn’t lift his shirt up that much!

his first strategy is the straightforward, nonchalant way. he eagerly waits for you at practice.

“hey,” suna almost chirps, feeling a skip in his step.

“hey.” your squint your eyes at the unexpected energy, “are you- are you up to something?”

suna’s ears turned beet red at your statement. he couldn’t have possibly guessed that you knew what he was about to do.

a smirk crawls onto your lips. “oh, so you are up to something…”

“yeah, right. it’s nothing.”

you slap a hand on his shoulder, “hey, i get it.”

“what?”

“i mean, whatever pranks you and your friends are up to, just try not to get expelled, ‘kay?”

suna’s shoulders relax, but his eyebrows furrow, “wait, wha-”

“the volleyball team’s up to something, no?”

suna nods cautiously, not sure if he should be relieved or sad at the miscommunication.

“anyways, thanks for waiting for me after practice. i have a some paperwork to do for the student council, so you can go on ahead,” you give him a genuine smile. he always likes to see it, but it’s a little less lovely when the thought of a failed asking-out attempt is circling his mind.

“right. bye.” suna dashes off, hand fisted in his pockets.

he tells himself it’s a work in progress.

“what the fuck am i doing making breakfast so well,” suna mutters under his breath one morning, preparing a cut of fish in the kitchen. he doesn’t even have practice this morning, and yet he’s skimmed through the entire oven manual and has found the joys of cooking fish meat.

he even takes some of the fish and puts it in a metallic lunch box with rice to bring to school. normally, he would settle for the canteen’s average meat buns.

“two bentos…?” he breathes. he has an idea.

it’s not long before he’s meeting you at the bus stop. he finds you sending him a small wave and an immediate groan about how your english teacher “is the definition of a nerd-bully equilibrium, what goes on.”

he laughs along with the complaints you have, even joining along with the flow of conversation. sometimes he thinks he changes a little bit when he’s around you, but he doesn’t mind. he likes talking and laughing and enjoying his time with you without worrying about what other people say.

he’ll give you a bento, maybe, he thinks, because he’s seen lots of girls give their boyfriends bentos in the past. maybe it would even give you a nod in the right direction.

right before the school’s building entrance, he stops you and takes you by the arm. it makes your heart skip a beat, but for him, all his heartbeats are centered around the lunchboxes in his bag.

“suna, why-”

your words are cut off when you see the boy eagerly rummaging through his bag, at first with a smile and then with a worried look. his hand is in his bag for a little too long.

there was only one bento.

so he gives you a beat-up ballpoint pen.

it’s transparent, and from the outside you can see the ink tube only one-eighth full. it looks old.

“um, it’s a good luck charm... for your english test today.” suna keeps his mouth pursed and his look unfazed.

“oh.” you smile at the absurd charm. it seems questionable at first, but you try to convince yourself to trust in it. to trust in suna.

“i know, it’s kind of… beat up, and every-” it’s clear that suna is worried, for what you don’t know, but the way he hangs his head and his other hand fumbles with the strap of his backpack is enough to tell you to accept the surpising gift.

“no, i like it. even if it doesn’t work.” your hand keeps the pen in your fists.

“it does work, by the way.”

you chuckle, “i’ll return it after class?”

suna shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if you do well you can keep it.”

you nod an okay, and he has a tiny look of satisfaction on his face. he had thought of giving you his lunch and not eating, but he decided against it when he remembered he didn’t bring any money to school that day. temporary success, fuck yeah.

(you get a ninety-two on the test. you keep the pen.)

as a last resort, suna tries through text. at least he’s proud that the two of you have been texting for two weeks straight. he still has you under “y/l/n-senpai (physics)”, and it makes him crack a small smile under his covers from time to time.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 2 notifications

suna slides the notification open. it’s always a pleasant surprise.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): just watched arrietty its a ghibli movie

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): ik hv u watched howl’s moving castle

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): yes ofc

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): well. i havent

suna runs out of words to type. he’s not sure how to phrase it...

still, by the way that you’re typing, it seemed like he hasn’t messed it up. he rolls around to the other side of his bed.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): then go watch it… (READ)

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch together|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch tog|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s go on a da|

suna sighs, thumb pressing the delete button like there’s no tomorrow.

except his thumbs are big. and phone keys are small. and his train of thought has jumbled up past usual cognition.

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): lets go, toge (SENT)

suna starts to stare down the volleyball in the corner of his room, wishing it would explode on command, when another ping lights up his phone.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 1 notification

he makes the slowest visit to his contacts to change your display name on his phone. he wants to stall.

but he always gives in.

from y/n: whos toge? (READ)

“fuck,” he grunts, burying his head into his pillow.

out of sheer shame and fatigue of asking-out attempts, suna doesn’t see you in the morning that monday nor text you for the rest of the weekend, having left you on read every time you sent a message. he thinks that if he reverted back to the time when the only interactions with you were stray thoughts in his mind, life would go on and this too would pass.

it’s not like you would care, right? he would tell himself.

but suna seemed to forget that you were on the cheerleading team, and that the cheerleading team shares the gym with the volleyball club on mondays and fridays, not tuesdays and thursdays like he had very cleverly remembered.

“suna!”

you call out to him that afternoon. you have your cheerleader uniform on, having received them just today, and make sure to catch him while he’s on break.

big mistake.

you knew the volleyball team was tall, but you never really expected them to be slightly off-putting, too. it seemed like one call of his name made the entire team, consisting of over twenty boys, turn their heads at you simultaneously. then they looked at suna. then they smiled.

you find in your peripheral vision a wide-eyed kita, glancing back and forth once before going back to the volleyballs and game plans even during his break.

you put on your sweetest smile, as expected of a cheerleader who’d just recently gotten her summer cheer uniform: v-neck, sleeveless top, pleated skirt, inarizaki lettering plastered across your chest in maroon and white.

he steps in front of you, eyebrow raised, “yeah?”

“can i talk to you about something?” your hands are behind your back, body weight shifting from left to right.

he nods, and as you take him out of the gym, you hear the volleyball team cheer and a certain miya twin shout, “fuckin’ suna!”

“fuck off, atsumu!” suna voices.

outside, your smile falters. you lean against the wall of the gym.

“did i do something wrong?” you say it softly, but firmly. you see his shoulders tense up, just slightly.

“um, no?”

you squint your eyes suspiciously, “but you’ve been ignoring my texts...?”

suna rolls his eyes instinctively. he regrets it when he sees a genuine frown on your face. “dunno,” he says.

your frown persists, and you start to bite on the inside of your mouth. “well, the last thing you texted me was, uh, ‘let’s go toge’. i’m so sorry if i missed something, or if it made you feel bad, so-”

“no, don’t be sorry,” he has his hands on his hips, “i never meant to send that.”

“what do you mean?”

“it was supposed to mean something else,” he looks down, scuffing his shoes against the brick floor.

“oh, was that message not meant for me? and who’s toge? sorry if i’m-”

suna gathers himself. he opens his mouth. he says eight words.

“i meant to ask you, ‘let’s go together’.”

the conversation comes to a halt. his words ring ambiguously in your ear, and it flusters you when the first thing that comes to mind is a date with the boy. you try to shake it off.

“like- like what do you mean?” you feel sorry for having him repeat the phrase twice.

suna shrugs, “i chickened out.”

“dude, you’re not making any sense.”

there’s a sharp pang in suna’s chest, and he visibly grimaces. “did you just call me dude?”

“maybe.”

“ouch.”

“wait, so what do you mean!” your arms flail around a little too dramatically for someone as tired as you.

suna contemplates whether or not to tell you that he wanted to ask you out. by the way you’d just called him dude, he wonders if you’d rather him give you a fist bump and tell you ‘nice toss!’ instead of hold your hand and take you out on a date.

so he counts his stars and he goes for the leap.

“actually, i wanted to ask if you wanted to watch a movie together.”

you back up into the wall at his words. there’s a heat that crawls through your body and beats through your heart.

“is that what let’s go toge meant?”

he nods, shoulders relaxing, arms to his side, “let’s go, together. like- like a date.”

his words take you by surprise. still, you’re nothing but glad.

“yeah,” you lick your lips, “i’ll go. and i take back the ‘dude’”

“oh, really now?” his shoulders relax.

you roll your eyes.

“so he asked you out, right?” honoka asks during a water break in pe class. you couldn’t say no.

“yeah, i’m going to his flat next wednesday.”

“why not today? friday?”

you pouted, head turning slowly, “stuco meeting. we have our cultural festival late october, remember?”

“ah.” honoka sips on her water bottle, “i won’t be here by then.”

“what date are you leaving again?” you try not to darken your tone, pouting at the idea of losing one of your dear middle school friends to distance.

“august eighteenth. a month away.”

you begin to slouch on your bench. there are more classmates that come to your bench after hearing honoka telling you her leave date. ‘oh my god!’s and ‘i’m gonna miss you!’s fill the corner of the gym, and soon the whistle blows, signalling the end of your water break.

the rest of the day proceeds as normal, and yet there’s that familiar emptiness that seems to continue to fill up even more of your days.

it’s tiring.

suna’s flat is extremely well put, for some reason. you’d always passed him for a boy who simply didn’t care, but now you see him at his own place, grabbing his laptop from his desk one-handedly.

you’ll admit going to a boy’s place alone is an awkward concept in itself, but it seems like suna doesn’t pay no mind. he’s plugged in his laptop to a charger, set it on the table, and has sat himself down on a floor cushion.

it’s a relief that you don’t know how suna’s heart is almost threatening to beat out of his chest.

“what do you want to watch?” you’re quick to sit down on the floor next to him.

he shrugs, “maybe you can convince me to like ghibli.”

you tsk at his line, yet it eventually brings you an ear to ear smile. you reach over to the laptop, scrolling through netflix. “i guess we could start with howl’s moving castle?”

your head turns to him, and he nods, before standing up all of a sudden. you look at him questioningly, but you find him walking over to his kitchen and returning with two paper bags and two glasses of water.

your eyes follow him as he rests the items down on the table and scoots back on the floor. he gestures the paper bag towards you, “popcorn. it’s salty, so i don’t know if you’re into that.”

“ah. thanks,” you smile, and he reaches over to the laptop, pressing play.

you don’t expect the movie to be the first thing on your minds - the both of you knew this. though you and him had spent some time marvelling at the movie, you find that for every other time you dip your hand into your popcorn, a pair of eyes turns to glance at you.

you two spend your time silently during the movie, however. your eyes have developed a habit of simply tracing suna’s figure with your eyes, and it comes in embarrassingly when he had looked back and found your attention on him instead of the laptop at one point.

you’re surprised, though, because he does seem to be paying attention to the movie, more or less, and you can hear his small hums of amusement and surprise as the movie progresses. you colour yourself proud.

suna doesn’t even touch his food nor his drink, having felt too nervous to do so. he wants to know how you’re doing, silently, but whenever he meets your eyes, he decides that he’d rather fix himself on the movie. he wonders if a date like this means holding your hand or even saying goodbye with a kiss hug.

when the movie ends you ask him why he hasn’t eaten his popcorn, and how you feel kind of bad about it, but he ends up telling you how good the movie actually was.

“i don’t believe that you don’t like ghibli movies.” you squint playfully.

there’s a grin that grows on suna’s resting face, “i never said that i was saying the truth, i just said that i didn’t like them.”

he stands up, bringing the food and drinks on the table to his kitchen counter, and you follow him over. the realisation hits you then, “oh. oh.”

“in truth i haven’t really watched many of them so i don’t know, but, yeah.”

“it’s funny because i feel slightly played.”

“well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

you watch as suna reaches into his refrigerator for some eggs. he glances at you, and you’re sitting on his tiny dining table.

“do you want an omelette?”

your eyebrows raise. your heart skips a beat at the thought of eating his cooking. you tell him, “sure.”

suna takes the time he’s faced away from you to think about what’s next. he knows that you have some kind of inclination towards him, having agreed to his explicit naming of this hangout a “date”. still, his mind wanders towards the timing: is it too early to properly confess? hasn’t he technically already confessed? the omelette flips and suna thanks the world for having it look like the prettiest one he’s ever made.

this one’s for you, he thinks.

when you do take the omelette in your mouth, you sigh a little bit. it looks pretty - almost beautiful, in fact - but also seems to be half-half-cooked.

you don’t care, though, because it still makes your stomach flutter thinking about the fact that he had made this with his own hands. and if it takes some half-half-cooked omelette to eat, then, hell, you’ll eat it.

it’s not all bad, though, since he offers you some rice along with the egg as well, and it eventually turns into a filling meal. you hadn’t had one of those in a while.

when you look over to the other side of the table, you find he’s already finished with your food, and normal chatter makes itself more comfortable in the confines of his small flat. this is how it’s supposed to be, you tell yourself, just meaningless banter and humorous talks.

you find yourself growing to know him even better.

“isn’t it funny, how, some weeks ago, i had only seen you as that ‘one guy i tutored last year’?” you say after the date as he walks you out of his apartment. he tells you he’ll be walking you home, and though you tell him no, you ride the bus, he says he has some extra money in his wallet for the month.

suna agrees, “yeah. i would’ve just carried on with my life.” suna lies through his teeth. he’s been through the volleyball team’s teasing for his obvious crush on you. hell, they’d even dubbed it suna’s “showoff mode” (ginjima calls it ‘beast mode’) whenever you were within a five meter radius of him.

you tell him time flies fast, and he tells you it walks slowly. for you, getting to know suna rintarou has been something you finally look forward to after all your work. but for suna, getting to know you is something he savours every second of, remembering how he wants to make up for the times he used to pine over your unknowing self.

when the two of you get on the bus, you sit next to him, yawning. he wants to have an arm over your shoulder, or your head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t exactly know how.

“my house is actually a few stops from here.” you say. it’s already nine at night, and though you’ve spent over five hours at his flat, you don’t want to lose your time with him to sleepiness.

suna notices how you try to fight it, even having told him, “don’t worry, i usually sleep at two am everyday anyways. i’m not going to fall asleep.”

he tells you, “you shouldn’t be sleeping at two every night.”

“it is how it is.”

he chuckles, “i once got shouted at for sleeping at five in the morning during a training camp. they forced me not to train at all that day. it was-”

the bus comes to a stop and your head falls on his shoulder. he calls your name softly.

you’re asleep.

suna keeps still as the bus ride continues, remembering the stop you said was yours. he counts them - one, two, three, four, five stops - and with each, his breathing steadies. he feels like the luckiest boy in the world.

“what am i to you now?” suna’s head tilts back, whispered question dissolving into the atmosphere. he doesn’t expect an answer.

instead, your arm circles itself around his.

taglist: @maitenight @natszoo @ssuna @erens-piss-cleaner @osamus-onigiri @volleybloop @etherealiwa @agaashesmilktea @bicchaan @anngelllla @tycrackculture @sins-over-tragedy @tsumuluv @daichibrainrot @underratedmage @sunasexual @kenmei @daydreamingtetsu @sunareii @bebegi (if your url is bolded, it means i couldn’t tag you)

send an ask to be added to the taglist!

as always, thank you to roo @yooroomi for beta reading this series!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hqradiostation #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #suna scenarios #suna rintaro #suna rintarou x reader #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday to The Owl House!

Honestly, I’m… REALLY shocked to think back on how it’s been a year? It’s been a full, actual year, since that first episode?

I remember when The Owl House was first announced around early 2018. Something about it, the premise, the characters from that one poster we got; It really drew me in, and I kept track of the show’s progress in eager anticipation. Whenever Dana released art of Luz, Eda, and King, I was ecstatic- And when the show was delayed to 2020, I was dismayed.

Then we got our teaser trailer; The opening them, the end credits, even a little sneak peek! I remember speculating a lot about Luz and all of the other new characters we were introduced to, such as Willow, Amity, and Gus- And then we got more and more trailers in the days leading up to the show. I wondered about Luz’s home back on Earth and where her family was, I listened intently to the Hooty and the Parliament music video, finding an almost melancholic, weirdly nostalgic (despite having never watched the show yet) vibe to it- Whilst also avoiding looking at the screen and seeing all of the various clips it offered, because I wanted to be surprised! It was two years of anticipation, two years of wait for this show- I’d never looked forward to a series before like this, last I can recall… So having this content FINALLY come out, seeing these characters in animation, hearing their wonderful voices! My soul was vibing, it was time, it was coming after all this time…!

Eventually I finished Infinity Train Book 2, the same day that The Owl House premiered… I was blindsided when I woke up to the first episode’s release online, in full- I was already planning to wait until later to watch it on television, so having it permanently accessible from the internet was such a pleasant surprise! And the show… The show, man- That premiere caught me off-guard with how much I enjoyed it! I knew I was looking forward to this show, but still…! It blew away my expectations, and even now, has continued to; It was like my personal investment and attention had paid off so patiently well! I even got a DisneyNOW subscription so I could watch each new episode ASAP, the day it premiered, hours before it aired on television!

I remember scouring Tumblr before the show officially premiered, and there was understandably very little- A few pieces of fanart here or there. And when the show DID premiere, for a while there wasn’t really much of a fandom- There was barely anyone, in fact! But I can remember a few notable blogs who have been around since the beginning… Me, I got invested into this show. I found myself really enjoying Lumity as a ship, especially since I resonated with both characters in it; Luz was such a ball of sunshine that brightened my day, and Amity really spoke to me with her more introverted, top-scoring personality. When the show hit its mid-season hiatus, I remember not handling it too well, as I got impatient and frantic in my speculations- I wanted so badly to learn more about these characters, see what happened- Get a look at Emperor Belos (then known as Bellows by the fandom), etc.

I wrote my Bile Coven piece in preparation for Halloween, even got to know a mutual or two over shared theorizing! I kept track of Dana’s updates, and even had people come to my blog, of all places, to send asks! It was and still has been such an engaging part of fandom for me… I recall impatiently waiting for the Owl Pellet shorts and freaking out over them- And when Adventures in the Elements leaked early? I LOST MY MIND, I remember postponing something I was supposed to go to, just so I could watch the episode- And it was so good! Then I started wondering and hoping the rest of Season 1 would come out, and well- It took a while…

And when Season 1B’s trailer came out, I was all over it; Scouring every possible frame, freaking out over the Grom screenshot, and appreciating the influx of new fans! It was amazing to watch The Owl House go from a relatively minor and obscure fandom, to becoming so much more mainstream and populous! I got into Rebecca Rose’s channel, I began writing more meta and posts about the show, as well as little recaps for each new episode. I feel like my blog really took off from here, as I got to interact with more and more people who shared this mutual love of The Owl House, and I was so ecstatic to see more content and buzz about it!

My mind was solely focused on The Owl House, it was one of my huge hyperfixations, even moreso than during Season 1A’s run- I remember being anxious about Enchanting Grom Fright, wondering if we’d get queerbaited… But NO, Amity was in love with Luz! She canonically had a crush on her, a girl in love with another girl- And I loved it because Lumity was a special comfort ship of mine! Then Amity was confirmed lesbian… It was amazing! And I found myself SO invested, so inspired by the show and its characters, and all of the little allusions to things, the foreshadowing, the moments here or there that made so much more sense after a new episode.

This show inspired me creatively- It got me to write some of my personal favorite fanfics, and I was and still am so touched by whatever feedback I get from them! The Owl House really got me to write, to obsess over characters and analyze them, to look at motifs, to think about worldbuilding… It’s been such an artistically enriching experience, both the show and the fandom! I remember despairing so terribly when Agony of a Witch came out, the genuine betrayal I had when Lilith revealed the truth- Because I’d been legitimately endeared to her character beforehand, even formed a sort of ‘trust’ in a sense… And like many others, I agonizingly anticipated the season finale, the much-needed emotional reconciliation!

I remember how the episode titles were revealed, bit by bit, and how I and others speculated on what they’d spell out! I remember when the fandom obsessed over the Witch’s Apprentice game and its relics, for clues and new lore after each episode, the little hints here or there! I was freaked out by characters like Belos, who lived up to my hopes and expectations- First being alluded to by name, then his amazing appearance… And then his voice and mannerisms and everything about him! And when the Season Finale came out…

Well, there was relief. But there was a bittersweet emptiness- That it was over! The first season was over! There was a celebratory triumph, of course- We finally wrapped up the first, major arc of the show, the first batch of episodes that had been worked upon, the whole thing now unveiled and appreciated! But I was a little dismayed because a part of me KNEW a hiatus much longer than the previous one was ahead of me, and I did not handle the mid-season hiatus well. Of course, then Dana had her Reddit AMA, and the charity livestream; Both of which NOURISHED me creatively, and have helped to fill out the wait! To carry out my momentum, to not flounder about in hiatus; I invested myself into more meta, into various posts, etc. I read fanfiction that genuinely floored me, obsessed over fanart, etc.

I supported the show’s release on Disney Plus, ecstatic to get this kind of ready access. I revisited past episodes and characters, looking at them in a new light, appreciating things; Like Luz’s relationship with fantasy… King’s surprising development, all of Eda’s little hints and clues. There’s been an emotional catharsis with these characters for me- And I genuinely feel like I’ve been a lot happier lately because of this show! I’ve met so many other blogs and gotten to know them, seen their ideas and displayed mine as we appreciated one another… I even remember doing another blog’s fanart prompt prior to the show’s release, in preparation!

I feel like The Owl House has genuinely given me a new appreciation for meta, for fandom and analysis… For headcanons, for writing my own stories and contributing my own ideas and speculations, etc.! It’s contributed SO much joy to me as a hyperfixation, and rapidly risen through my blog as my most frequent tag! And even as I explore other fandoms and hyperfixations, both then and now, especially to pass on this crippling hiatus… This show holds a VERY special place in my heart for me. It’s really made me feel for these characters, the love and sadness, the excitement and sense of comfort… Its love and emotions, angst and found family, lore and speculation, it hits so hard to me in a way that other media hasn’t!

It’s provided representation- Such as canonically queer characters, or protagonists who speak so well to the neurodivergent experience for many people! I’ve had delight in seeing people suggest Amity as autistic, when before Season 1B, I lowkey headcanoned and saw her as such- So seeing more evidence for this resonated deeply in my heart! I remember all of the discussion about King as a character, the confusion and talk about whether or not he WAS a King of Demons, when that first announcement in 2018 had made a similar claim… I looked forward to Eda and Lilith’s relationship, speculated on who cursed Eda, and remembered when I’d considered the Blights as a potential culprit! I remember thinking about Hooty, wondering what his deal is- And thinking then and now about that Owl Deity mural in the Owl House! Watching Luz’s development as a character and as a witch, seeing her become more proficient with magic until it finally pays off with her squaring up against Belos, and wounding him- I’d never felt so proud of a character and their progress before!

There’s still so many more questions and mystery, lore… as well as just genuine character interactions, to look forward to! I think The Owl House is one of my favorite shows of all time… It’s deeply touched me as a person and creator, and I genuinely strive to create something even close to this one day. This show has inspired me, made me laugh and cry, compelled me to creatively make content; It’s introduced me to a wider fandom that I genuinely feel like a part of, had me meet other mutuals… It really is something special to me. And while I am eager for Season 2, I also want to appreciate what Dana Terrace and her crew have already established. I love this show’s art style and animation, the designs and overall weirdness of its characters- I love speculating and thinking about them, getting more and more details, and so forth.

If it’s for a better product, I’m fine waiting for Season 2. And honestly, I love what we already have, and I’ve done a lot with so many people. I’ve even looked over supplementary materials and stuff posted by the crew or news articles, in my need for content… And I love every bit of update, art, and/or acknowledgement of the show’s hiatus, and Season 2’s development! There’s so much to look forward to… And there’s so much that I’ve enjoyed, after plenty of anticipation!

Thank you @danaterrace, and everyone who worked on this- For everything. It really is crazy to reflect on this entire year, to realize it’s been a full year since that first episode, since that first premiere that lit up my world like Luz’s light spells; And it feels like such a milestone that we’ve reached! I look forward to what comes next, and I also intend to keep appreciating and cherishing what we’ve already gotten. Here’s to this show’s second year, people- It’s been such a journey to look back on and remember each step, each phase, each particular moment and stage… And I can only imagine what will come next! This show has SUCH a special place in my heart, and has made me feel in so many ways I haven’t before!

Happy Birthday, The Owl House! You’ve earned it!

#the owl house #toh #owl house #the owl house luz #luz noceda #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house king #lumity #happy birthday #dana terrace #ramblings #nostalgia #meta

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aslihanxfahri-bailey · 3 years ago

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more than life itself || self para

Prompt: Travel back in time watching a video of a then-eight months pregnant Abigail Bailey, recording a video intended for Alex. Abi’s pregnancy was faced with a lot of challenges and problems that could’ve resulted in her dying.

Trigger Warnings: pregnancy, death, and labour mention

For as long as Abigail can remember, she’s created a baby box for Alex. Admittedly, it was more so of a childhood box; But nevertheless, in it, held memories. Alex’s favourites over the past five years, remnants of her nursery then her bedroom. Toys, clothes, a binkie, her favourite book. Anything that she wasn’t still using (such as her crocheted blanket she still slept with), was added to the box. Along with a scrapbook, filled with pictures all the way from when Abigail was pregnant with her. Ultrasounds to Abi’s progress photos, memories from the past five years. There also held a USB in the box, holding videos from the past five years as well. First crawl, first walk, first word, first tooth: everything. But… along in the big box, there held a smaller box. A box that when you opened up, was filled with things. A list of the best places to travel to, pictures of Abigail and of Atlas (both together and separate, all from their time together back in London), a picture of Abi’s favourite wolf that Atlas showed her, a statue. And a DVD. All one needed to do was put it into a laptop or DVD player and maybe… maybe, it’ll go along the lines of something like this:

Abigail sat in a rocking chair in the nursery. Smiling softly into the video camera. Her bangs had grown out, so has her hair, and she was in soft blue sundress. Her hands were resting on the bump she has, the young archaeologist now at eight months pregnant. “Hi, Alex,” she began, head tilting softly as she looked at the camera. “My name is Doctor Abigail Bailey. I was born in Istanbul, Turkey before being raised mainly in London, England, but I also spent a good portion of my years living in Cairo, Egypt. My birthday is July 15th, 1993 and I am 23 years old. I am an archaeologist and anthropologist who specializes in ancient civilizations. And I am your mother. I know that… you possibly know all these things already. I know that if you’re watching this, then, it means that… it means that I’m not with you. It means that, I died. A few weeks ago when I was still seven months pregnant with you, I discovered that I had placenta previa. Your placenta had been formed lower than usual. Placenta previa causes an abnormal amount of bleeding and it… it can be fatal. When it comes to the common symptoms and causes of it, I technically shouldn’t have it. But, I… I do. The doctor said that there is a chance that I could live. But, there’s also the chance that I couldn’t. And this… this video is meant to be a way that I could talk to you. This box,” she reached over and placed a small box on her lap, “is meant to be a way for us to still be connected, despite me not being here. I pray… God, I pray that you never have to watch this. That I am still with you years from now. But, it is better to be safe than sorry.

“Um, I guess I better start off with what’s all in here,” she mused, clearing her throat. “I, I-I wrote down a list of the best places you need to travel to at least once in your life. If you’re anything like your father and I, I am certain that you’re going to love adventure. That you’re curious to see more of the world, discover more things. I also wrote down some of the best historical books. Now, there might be a couple of books in the future that are good, so talk to your grandfather about that. But these? These are a couple of my favourites. Especially this one.” She held up a book, one that is well-read and extremely loved. Abi looked down at it and smiled softly. Her fingers tracing over the cover. “Your father… Your father wrote a note to me once in this book. It had been my favourite long before he ever did that. But… I suppose that that’s another reason why. I won’t tell you what it is; I want you to read it and find out yourself. But I hope that you’ll take a lot from it. Not just your father’s note. I also got a bunch of photographs in here featuring your father and I. We met one day at my favourite book shop. He’d asked me for advice on a history book and… Something just clicked. I felt comfortable with him, I just… I wanted to get to know him better. We went to lunch together to Pomodoro’s and eventually, I brought him back to the manor. Talked to him about all kinds of history stuff and just spending time with him. Little did we know, he would end up staying with me for three weeks. Those three weeks… I don’t think I can describe how happy I had been. Just being with him and spending time with him… I fell hard and I fell fast. I had never been through something like that before: he became my first. My first of so many things. When he had to leave, it shattered me. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to ask him to come with me to Egypt. I was suppose to be going there soon for an excavation for a couple of months and… I don’t know why I didn’t ask him. And I regret it so, so much. I wish I had the confidence to tell him everything I wanted to say. I hope that you have the confidence I lacked.”

Sniffing, Abi wiped at her eyes before breathing out a laugh. “I’m sorry,” she wiped her tears away some more. “I-I’m sorry, I… I’ve missed him so much, always hoped that I would see him again. That I would get to hold him in my arms and kiss him, that the three of us could be a family. I have been wishing for that for the past couple of months. So this…” She shook her head away. Placing the box away, she kept her eyes on the camera. “Alex, I beg of you… please don’t blame yourself for this. I love you more than life itself and I would do anything… absolutely anything… to ensure your happiness, that you’re healthy and safe. I don’t want you to bear any guilt over my not being here. I just want you to live your life and to be happy. The pregnancy… it hasn’t been an easy one. I’ve been really sick throughout it. My body has experience so much pain and trying to go about it all… it was difficult. I’ve spent a majority of my pregnancy in Egypt. Which, hasn’t exactly been the easiest thing either. But it’s okay: I’ve done everything I could to ensure that you’re okay. And I always will, alive or dead. There is still a chance that I’ll make it. We are planning on trying to do a caesarean section for labor, which could help. But I… If that happens, I’m scared about the future. I’m scared about you wanting to be a big sibling. I’m scared of wanting to have more kids. There’s a 2-3% chance that I could have placenta previa in another pregnancy. And admittedly, that terrifies me. If I make it and I want more kids in the future, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just… I hope to come up with a plan, if that is the case. But… if I don’t make it…”

Abi sighed softly. Her fingers traced over her bump before glancing up again. “I really hope that you’re with your dad,” she whispered. “My parents promised me that they were going to tell him about you if I don’t make it. That they’ll explain everything. Your father’s name is Atlas Williams. He was born and raised in Providence Peak, Colorado. His family owns Wolf Wild Rescue and he loves those wolves so much. I remember the look on his face as he talked about the wolves and the rescue for the first time. Just how proud he was. Your father is many things, Alex. He’s passionate, he has a love for adventure. He’s curious, about the world and about history, about so many different facts and trivia. He’s loyal. He’s caring and gentle, so incredibly gentle. For a man as giant as he is, it’s incredible how gentle he truly is. Or can be. He’s got a wicked sense of humor and he’s protective. He’s also intelligent. And god, he’s handsome. He’s got these eyes that just capture you, this smile that is brighter than the Egyptian sun, this laugh that warms you right up, and his arms? When he holds you and you know that you’re safe, that you are at peace and at home? I have been everywhere in the world, but I have never felt more at peace in a place than in his arms. I know that there’s more to him. I know that he has a temper and sometimes, he’s more prone to fighting than talking. But every time he’s gotten into a fight, or at least the ones that I’ve seen, he was defending me. He isn’t great at talking, prefers to show than tell. Perhaps he’s worked on that the past couple of years, of raising you. There are probably a lot of things about him that I don’t know still. And I genuinely hope that I’ll make it and I will find out more about him. Because I know that there is more to the man than just the man I knew in London. And I’m ready to love him just as much as I love the London Atlas.”

Abigail paused for a moment. Taking a shaky breath, she looked down at her bump. Fingers softly tracing it. “Alex, if… if your father is around, can you please give me a moment to talk to him?” Her words came out in a whisper, the young woman visibly nervous. Yet as she wiped away her tears and tried to make herself presentable, she gave herself a minute. Before looking back up at the camera. And she smiled warmly. “Hey, Las.

"Before I say anything else, I want to start off by saying this: I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for not telling you about Alex months ago. There has never been a moment where you weren’t on my mind and never a moment where I haven’t almost contacted you. E-mail you, call you through the rescue’s line, gotten on social media and hopefully find you. I… I ended up losing my phone on my way to Egypt. I don’t know how or when, but I did. And I had told you prior that I had programmed my laptop so that I could strictly do work on it, so that wasn’t an option to use to contact you either. It wasn’t until I got back here in London when I finally had the options to do so. But I… I’ve been scared. I’ve been so scared the past few months over what you would say or do. I didn’t… I-I didn’t want to face rejection. I was scared that you wouldn’t want to see me or the baby and… and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” It was getting harder to breathe and she wiped away her tears. “The moment I found out about Alex, though… I did have a moment of bravery. After I was released from the hospital, I made my way to the airport. I was trying to find the best flights to Denver. And for a moment, I almost did. But my mentor ended up stopping me. There’d been a big discovery at the site that I needed to see. I had work to do there, I… I was on a loan from the government and responsible for so many workers. I was paying them, responsible for them to be able to provide for their families. This was my first excavation. I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave. There was so much at stake. But I told myself that I would get a phone, contact my mother so that she could give me the information for the rescue, and I’ll call you. And I did… expect for calling you. I had a nightmare that night. I dreamt that I told you and… a-and you wanted nothing to do with us. I had a few more dreams like that that eventually bled into real life. It was all I could think about for so long that every time I tried to contact you, I got too scared. And I hate that so much. But it… it hasn’t stopped me from trying to include you, or at least your presence, in our kid’s life. Like their name, for example.

"Alex is a Greek name, meaning ‘warrior’ or ‘defender of mankind’. As of right now, I don’t know if Alex is an Alexander or an Alexandria. I came up with many different names over the past few months. A lot of them were after many different historical figures or places. However, one day during one of my last few days off, I went up to Alexandria to see some friends. Alexandria had been on my list of names, because of the infamous library and the great conqueror, but it wasn’t one I was completely set on. My friends and I went to a couple of different museums that day there, including the Graeco-Roman museum. While I had been roaming the statue garden, thinking about the baby and of you again, I stopped in front of a statue. It was the Titan Atlas, with the world on his shoulders. Standing there and looking at him, I knew instantly that the baby’s name, was Alex. In that moment, everything felt right, it… it was almost as if you were there with me. As if somehow, you had helped me pick the name. And I couldn’t pick any other name afterwards.” Laughing, she stood up and reached for the camera, taking it off the stand before showing off an area in the nursery. Right there, was a tiny statue of the Titan Atlas. “I bought it from the gift shop right afterwards,” she mentioned. She then moved back and placed the video camera back on it’s stand. Moving to sit back down, there was a visible strain on her features. She let out soft whispers and gasps as she got herself situated, pain on her face while she cradled the bump with one hand. Her eyes were shut for a moment, Abi trying to take a couple of deep breaths to soothe herself back to before. “I’m okay,” she whispered, resting her head against the chair as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I-I’m okay… Atlas, I… From the moment I found out, I tried to find ways to include you. I tried to tell you so many times over the past few months and I’m so sorry. Maybe you’ve forgiven me… Maybe you haven’t… But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

"I wish that I could tell you that myself,” she whimpered. “There’s so much I wish I could. And I… I’m sorry that I’ve never had the courage to do so before. But I… Since I’m dead now, maybe I finally do: I’m in love with you, Atlas Williams. I wish I got to tell you that to your face, I… I wish I found your note first. Had I known, I would’ve gone straight to Denver to see you again. I’ve always wished that I got to see you again. That we could’ve gotten a real chance, that we could’ve been a family. That I could’ve gotten more time with you, fallen in love with you more. I wish that I could kiss you again. Hold your hand once more, fall asleep in your arms as you list off some random fact, how completely and wonderfully fascinated you are by it. I wish that our goodbye in the airport won’t be our last. That that wasn’t the last time you held me in your arms, that it wasn’t the last time you kissed me. I wish that I got to hear you tell me you love me instead of having to read them in a book on a flight while over Greece. I wish we had more time. I wish I got to tell you how much I love you. That I had gotten to witness us grow old together, share a life together while raising Alex. All the good and the bad moments, I wish we had gotten them together. That we gotten to stand by each other’s side and work things out together as a team. That I had gotten to know each and every single thing about you and gotten the chance to love you for everything you are, both the man in London and the man in Providence Peak. I wish we had gotten more time. I wish I told you I love you, that I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for never saying anything. I’m so sorry it took this long. I just… I hope you forgive me. That you’ll love our child twice as hard for me. Because Alex… Alex really needs you. So much and I wish that I was there. I’m sorry that I’m not. I love you both, more than I could ever possibly say. Please don’t forget that. Can… Can you bring Alex here, please?”

She waited again, taking another moment. She wiped away her tears that she’d been crying, trying to steady her breathing. Hoping that Alex would now be watching, she placed a smile on her face again. “Alright! I just… I wanted to leave this on a high note. I’ve cried a lot in this and I… I have never cried so much before in my life. I hate it, so much. But I just wanted to say: take that list of travel ideas and go on an adventure together. Share as much of them together as possible… and think of me. Especially if you both come to Egypt. I’ve always wanted to take you both there and in a way, I will be. I’m with you both always. There’s... There’s so much I wish the three of us could’ve done. I wish that the three of us could’ve been a family. I’m so sorry for being too scared of doing anything about it, for being too late. I hope you both can forgive me eventually.” Gently, she wiped away her tears. Letting out a breathy sigh and looking at the camera softly, one hand resting on the bump and the other toying with her necklace. The young historian smiling peacefully. “Atlas and Alex Williams: I love you both more than life itself. Don’t forget that. Please don’t forget me. I love you.”

Blowing a kiss to camera, she waved and gave one final smile, before the video ended.

Abigail had spent 43 hours in labour. It had been a rather peaceful day (more or less) in the Bailey manor when Abi needed to walk, having been on bedrest for the last remaining weeks of her pregnancy. She’d been found in the library of the manor, passed out with a small pool of blood, a trail leading from the entrance to her spot. Her father, Richard Bailey, had been the one who found her and quickly took her to the nearest hospital. They had to perform an emergency C-section, delivering a healthy baby girl at 7 pounds and 6 ounces. Unfortunately, Abigail had hemorrhaged during labour and they almost lost her before they were able to stabilize her. She spent three days afterwards in a coma, her parents alternating between taking care of Alexandria Jane Williams and being there for their daughter. She eventually woke up and spent a week in the hospital regaining her strength before heading back home, where once again she spent a month on bedrest with baby Alex resting in a bassinet next to Abi’s bed. The archaeologist eventually getting her health back, all the while taking care of her daughter while loving and protecting her.

#( writings. )#tw: pregnancy #tw: death mention #tw: labour #pregnancy tw #death mention tw #labour tw

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

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Seeing 1D on the television for the first time—there was a sort of special connection that I felt. I didn’t expect to become as attached as I did over the past several years, but I did. These boys have given me genuine happiness, music to look forward to and a space within the fandom where I can admire them.

I’m so proud of everything that they have accomplished. Together, 1D was the biggest boyband in the planet. When 2013 came and they were plastered literally everywhere—there was a proudness in my chest that made me realize how much Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn have impacted my life. Individually, they all have various measures for success where I am grateful that they were comfortable enough to share their musicality through their solo music.

Listening to the progress they’ve made is unlike any other. I’ve never followed any artists closely like I’ve done with 1D. The shift in dynamics, the growth of the fandom; these are the types of things that I will cherish. Seeing someone share the same passionate emotion as I did made me feel like I wasn’t alone in my admiration. Despite having millions of fans, the 1D fandom has been like a tight and cozy family.

As a fan, it’s amazing to have spent my teenage years growing up with them. The changing fashion style of the boys where they wore and experimented with their clothing. Voicing out their views and opinions as they continued to learn every single day. Hearing the shift from each album, the sophisticated language and lyricism of recent songs—it was a sign that both of us were growing up. A time comes when this dreamlike, 1D-induced chapter ends completely. And I know that I am prepared to face it regardless of what happens.

For now, I’m just going to listen to their whole discography. Watching the videos that catapulted me into this fandom: 1) 1D X-Factor Live Shows Performances, 2) 1D Video Diaries Compilation, 3) One Direction Funny Moments because nostalgia hits hard and times were easier.

#one direction #10 years of one direction #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #niall #louis #liam #zayn #1D #july 23 2010

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feistypaants-archived · 5 years ago

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Between The Pipes [Chapter 33]

Rating: M Words: 2860 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Enjoy!

It was about ten days before Kristoff felt all of his symptoms had fully subsided. He had started going for jogs a couple of days ago, but anything more than that tended to bring the headache roaring back. So he continued to take it easy, go for a short jog in the morning, and only watch an hour of tapes per day. Anything longer than that hurt his head, too.

Anna had… not so slowly started moving her things in. She didn’t have much, but he told her to put her stuff wherever she wanted, that she could make this place as much hers as she wanted. And he genuinely meant it. His house had just been a house. He hadn’t put much thought into it beyond the comfort of his couch and bed. Decor was minimal, and everything was very much brown.

Maybe she could help him make it a home.

Her just being there already made it closer.

—

After four weeks, they broke her lease and she had officially moved in. They figured it would help her save some more in the long run, help her skate by for just a little longer, even if he told her over and over that she didn’t need to worry about money.

But Anna hadn’t wanted to start things out that way. She had some savings, and she could pay for things here and there, and she didn’t want him to feel like she was taking advantage. Kristoff assured her that he could never think that she was. But still, she insisted, and he told her that that was something he absolutely loved about her.

He had been able to start doing more normal exercises again. Working with the trainers was annoying, but there weren’t any headaches returning when he pushed himself like he used to. They told him if he could do this for a week without any symptoms popping up, he could get back on the ice.

—

That week went by like a breeze, and Kristoff relished in the feel of crisp ice under his skates. There was no feeling better than being on the ice. He sighed with defeat as they told him they wanted to wait another week before they started firing pucks at him, but he grudgingly agreed. At least he was skating.

And then, even better, he got to come home and see Anna, her hair wrapped into a bun on top of her head as she sat with her knee to her chest, drawing in an almost full sketchbook, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Hi baby,” he smiled, his heart warming as she looked up at him and used the back of her hand to push hair from her eyes. He kissed her softly as he walked past, enjoying the pure domesticity of it all. “Have a good day?”

“Oh yes! I went to that cafe downtown that we like - you know, Oaken’s Mochas and Teas?”

He always laughed at the name. So on the nose.

“And well, I noticed that they didn’t have any sort of logo or anything so… I don’t know. I just…” she blushed and spun around on the chair, dangling her legs off the side. “They know me and I figured what was the harm in asking - so I’m designing something for them now!”

His eyes widened and he took three steps forward to clear the gap between them, placing an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. “Anna, that’s so great.”

“They’re paying me, too!” She was giggling against his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Remember how the last place wouldn’t pay? I took it because, you know, portfolio, but I offered for free, but they insisted.”

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Then her arms were around his neck and not letting go and she hummed low and slow, “how about you? Good day? Worn out?”

Oh. He was never too worn out for that.

He hoisted her up onto his hips, grinning like a madman as they moved backwards to his bedroom. Well, their bedroom. She never did sleep in the spare room.

—

He was growing slightly frustrated at the week-by-week status, but he knew this was his second head injury, and they wanted to be more careful this time around. But only progressing to the next step after a whole week was growing agonizing. At least he was doing non-contact now, grinning from ear to ear as he slapped each puck out of midair.

God it felt so fucking good to be back like this.

Anna had come with him today to spend some time with Honeymaren while they practiced, and he could hear her whooping from the stands. Every time he made a save, “that’s my baby!” Every time someone scored on him, “you’ll get it next time honey!”

It was the most endearing thing ever, as she jumped up and waved her hands in the air, as if it were an actual game. As if it weren’t just her in the stands, cheering him on during a practice.

God he loved her so much.

—

Finally they were letting him practice back in a regular jersey. No more no-contact. He was fortunate that goalies rarely got touched anyway, but now they guys weren’t holding back anymore. Slapshots and more risky wraparounds and pucks fired in a way that made him dive were becoming the norm again, and he felt so damn good with every puck he saved.

Shot by shot, the rust was shaking off, and Kristoff felt ready to get back in a game. It was almost April, and he needed to be playoff ready. They had promised him he’d be back in by March 20th, which gave him a little under three weeks of in-game play before the playoffs started. They were so close to a playoff spot, and he knew that he could help them win it.

But he wouldn’t rush, and he was going to trust the physicians on staff, and take it slow.

If for no other reason than Anna.

He knew she was worried about him getting back in. But they weren’t playing the Stallions yet - they had at least until the Eastern Conference, and by then he would undoubtedly be a one hundred percent. Plus, the guys had his back, and, he couldn’t help but laugh about it, Warren had been scratched for the rest of the season. Coach’s decision.

—

Right on the promised date, Kristoff was starting in net against Tampa, and the literal electricity in the arena had him amped up beyond belief. Their whole team was working together like a well oiled machine, and he hadn’t realized what a vital cog he was to the whole operation until he had been gone. Even if it had just been in practice, he already felt the connection, and he knew this game would be easily won.

Anna had threatened him with an indefinite withhold if he didn’t let her come on the roadie, so she was up in their box, undoubtedly screaming along to every play, and just knowing she was in the arena made his game that much better.

They won, 5-2, and dog-piled in the middle of the arena as they clinched their playoff spot.

Fuck. This was still the best feeling in the world.

—

The rest of the season went by in a flash, and before they knew it, the Ice Breakers were facing New York in round one. It felt so easy now as they swept the round, and had extra days for recovery.

The Stallions lost against Boston.

It had been a weird moment, celebrating someone else’s loss, but Anna had come home with two bottles of champagne and they popped bottles and got a little drunk and Anna had taken him to bed and all right, he might be okay with celebrating another’s loss if it meant he got this. Plus, it was the team that almost took him out for the end of the season.

Yeah, he was okay with celebrating.

Philadelphia was a harder won match. They liked to play dirty. It went to game seven before they finally secured the win, and they all felt the tiring ache of it. Kristoff hated going to game seven - it meant they only had two days to recuperate before the next match started.

But Anna had drawn him a hot bath, had snuck in to lay on his chest while he relaxed, and scratched her fingers against his chin as she waxed poetic about playoff beards and how maybe he should just keep it and then her hands sunk a little lower, and he was suddenly feeling a lot more prepared for the Conference finals.

He genuinely thought they might lose to Toronto. They lost the first two. Won the third. Lost the fourth, and if they didn’t win all three of the remaining games, they were out.

It was close. God it was so fucking close.

Game seven. They were 3-3. Sudden death overtime. It looked like it might head into double overtime, with only eighteen seconds on the clock, but then --

Pederson scores! Ice Breakers win!!!!

Thank fuck.

—

Anna was there for every game. Every win, every loss, she was there. And he knew he wasn’t being a good boyfriend right now, he knew that he was too focused on his career right now and this was what he had been so fucking concerned about from the beginning.

But after game two against Nashville, which they lost miserably, Kristoff was sulking on the couch watching tapes to figure out where they kept scoring on him, and Anna wrapped soft arms around his neck.

“Hey,” she hummed, not even reacting to his short, irritated reply. “I just want you to know… How proud I am of you.”

That got his attention.

“You had a really traumatic thing happen, and you bounced right back from it, and you’ve been playing so hard, and so well, and… There’s no fear, and that’s amazing.” He let one hand raise to her arm, stroking his thumb across her skin.

“I love you so much,” he muttered, tilting his head back to look up at her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

“I know,” she smiled, placing one quick kiss against his lips. “And you haven’t. I can deal with your job being most important for two months of the year.”

“You love me still?”

“More every day.”

He felt more confident in game three. And four. And then they were up three to one, and only needed one more fucking win to win the whole damn thing.

—

They were in Nashville and Anna was lamenting the fact that they didn’t have the time to actually see the city this week, and Kristoff pulled her close and told her if they won tonight they could stay here as long as she wanted and see everything she could possibly think of. She blushed and kissed him and told him that he better bring his A game, because she was holding him to it and would be horribly disappointed if they had to fly back home tonight.

That was an extra motivation.

They arrived at the arena early, amazed at the crowd already forming and the insane energy just surrounding the building. Playoff hockey was a whole other world, and he was so ecstatic that Anna was getting to experience it by his side. He kissed her deeply before she had to head up to the box and him to the locker room, with a quick squeeze of her bottom and a laugh.

“Hey!”

“It’s for luck!!”

Anna swatted at him but grinned as she followed Jelissa up the stairs to the visiting team’s box, laughing with the blonde about their stupid men and how on earth do we put up with them and Kristoff tuned out the rest before he heard something he didn’t want to. Then he turned his focus to the game.

“Men!” Sven hollered, his voice booming through the locker room. “This game is do or die. We’re ahead, but you better not let that cockiness mess with your game.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile. His best friend had perfectly honed his skill of making a speech lighthearted but also motivating. The team followed him into fire, and Kristoff had always admired him for it. When Sven wrapped it up and hopped down from his perch, Kristoff held out a hand, gripped his best friends’ and knocked their helmets together.

“Captain.”

“We win together or we die together, brother.”

Kristoff almost laughed at the drama of it all. “Calm down, Aragorn.”

Sven was silent for a moment. “When the fuck did you watch Lord of the Rings?”

“... Concussion recovery was rough.” He dropped Sven’s hand and smirked. “But it was actually pretty good.”

“Haven’t I been telling you for years that you would like it?” He smacked Kristoff upside the head and grinned. “Never listen to me, but the second you get a girlfriend…”

They heard the announcements starting, and moved out towards the runway. As always, they were last onto the ice, and as always, they fist bumped before they stepped out. He was as ready as he’d ever be. The timer counted down, they got into position.

Three.

Two.

One.

The puck hit the ice.

Period one had a rough start. 2-0 Nashville. But he was recalibrating, remembering what it was he kept missing. They got him on his glove side. They knew he was a little weaker, a little more hesitant with it after the injury.

But he could fix it.

Period two, nothing got by him, and the guys scored three times. 2-3 Ice Breakers. Thank god.

Period three, and the pressure is on. Nashville doesn’t want to lose, and the Ice Breakers don’t want to drag it out. They’ve played three long matches already.

Nashville scores.

Ice Breakers score.

3-4.

4-4.

5-4.

5-5.

And then.

Carruthers, the kid they just brought up from the minors to fill in a gap from another injury, fucking scores with three seconds on the clock. His third game. His first NHL goal.

The fucking Stanley Cup game winning goal.

The whole team runs to center ice. The whole team dog piles on top of the kid, still silent and slack-jawed with shock, still not believing what just happened.

“Fuck yeah!”

“God damn it Ruthy!”

“How the fuck, kid!”

The incoherent screaming from the team didn’t drown out the booing from the crowd, but nothing would bring them down right now. Nothing could.

After their celebration, both teams basically let the three seconds run. Nashville knew nothing could be done, and the Ice Breakers weren’t about to let anything past them anyway. The buzzer rang and they all cheered again, whooping and hollering as they received the cup, went through the motions in the arena that wasn’t welcoming them. Then they ran down the runway, back to the locker room to find their family and friends waiting with enough champagne for every person in that room to have their own bottle.

Captain Sven Pederson had the pleasure of carrying the cup back with him.

Music was blasting, everyone was screaming, champagne was already flying through the air and as the team started stripping some of their bulkier gear off, Mattias took to the stage.

“I’ve never been more fucking proud of you boys. You rallied together and in just a few years, we’ve already risen so far beyond what people expected of this new little team in the middle of nowhere. I’m not going to make some big long speech,” Kristoff could see the tears in his eyes as he sniffled, and he let out a booming laugh as he looked around the room. “But you’ve all just… you’ve made me feel like a proud father.” He waved his hands in front of his face and shrugged. “But fuck my speech, let’s celebrate!”

And celebrate they did.

Bottles popped, beers were distributed, everyone drank way more than they should as Sven emptied at least 8 bottles of champagne directly into the cup and lifted it to pour into every players’ mouth. The man of the hour, Scotty Carruthers, was herded to the middle of the pack and drenched in champagne and beer before he had even fully finished processing what was happening.

After far too long, Kristoff found Anna, and she leapt immediately into his arms, placing sloppy peppered kisses all over his face. “I’m” kiss “so” kiss “fucking” kiss kiss “proud of you.” And then a hearty one on the mouth, as her hands pressed firm to either side of his jaw.

Kristoff smiled with his fingers spread wide over her back as she threw her arms in the air to add more beer to the rain in the room. She laughed brightly, lowered her hands back to his shoulders, and gave him the best smile he had ever seen. “I love you so much.”

And then he thought that somehow that was worth more than the fucking Stanley Cup.

#btpfic #feistypantswrites #only an epilogue left ;u;

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amberlarks · 4 years ago

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“Half”, 2019-2021, oil on canvas, 48”x 60”. It’s about growing up half Asian in America. Art is about wearing your heart on your sleeve and I have a lot to share about this one. It would really mean a lot to me if you read the story behind it. I reflect on the current events of the past week and past year. It feels very vulnerable sharing all of this, but I also know how important it is to share. This is one of the most important and personal paintings I’ve made in my life and I’m so happy I finally finished it. Thank you for your support, your inspiration, and for listening❤️

Growing Up Half Asian in America: A Reflection on Identity and Racism

By Amber Larks

I finally found my words. Day 1 I had no words, only grief. Day 2 I was furious with rage. And now I feel a sense of healing. Grieving together and supporting each other even just virtually has been so healing. And it inspired me to finish a painting I started sketches for in 2019. I’m not sure what strange force or feeling came over me to put it down and not pick it up until now, but I think it was meant to be.

These two years have been huge for talks about race and I’ve learned so much. I think my painting was finally ready to be completed because of how much I’ve experienced and learned and because of that, found my voice and identity in this movement.

This painting was art therapy for me and I know a lot of people will connect with it. I had been struggling for so long on my thoughts on current events because I am half. Half Chinese and half white. Somehow, I always feel my thoughts or feelings aren’t valid because “I don’t know what it’s really like to be Asian”. I have always struggled with imposter syndrome because I’m half. I constantly straddle two worlds. But being Chinese is who I am, it’s half of me. I was gaslighting myself wondering if my grief was valid. Thoughts like: “You’re not really Asian so stop playing the victim here”, “People will think you’re just a white girl trying to look woke” and “You should be sad, yes, but grieving like you knew them? That doesn’t make sense”. How fucked up is that?

But this is what being half is like. You feel like an imposter even though it is 100% genuinely part of your identity. And I honestly think this is where a lot of my social anxiety comes from because I feel like I don’t fit in anywhere. But being half is also a beautiful blessing where I’ve cultivated a deep understanding and practice of empathy.

Being half, you experience direct racism but more often racism in the form of people being racist in front of you not knowing they are in front of an Asian person. My first memory of racism is being in second grade and two white boys in my class pulling their eyelids up and down taunting “Chinese” “Japanese” “Chinese” “Japanese”. I will always remember it and the feeling I felt.

And Seattle, my city, as much as a beautiful, progressive haven that we are, we blindly participate in passive aggressive racism. I can’t tell you how many times people have complained to me about “Asian tourists” as if they are not human, but instead an inconvenience to your white city. As if they are not people who have worked hard and saved for years to take their family on vacation, land in a foreign city with a foreign language only to be scoffed at and not welcomed. Where is our empathy there? Where is our humanity? So much of racism is not seeing others as human which makes it easy to be so cruel. The dehumanization of minorities is pure cruelness.

Maybe we don’t do things like you, look like you, or talk like you, but that doesn’t make us lesser. We have feelings. We feel pain. We have depth. We’re smart. We can read between the lines. We know when we are not welcome and it hurts. We know when we are being ridiculed and it hurts. We know Hollywood only sees us as objects and it hurts. We see our brothers and sisters getting murdered and it hurts.

Growing up half taught me to hide my Asian side because from age 5 I deemed it unsafe to show in fear of being bullied. As I grew up, I continued to hide in fear of being disrespected, stereotyped, harassed, and sexualized. That last one is huge for Asian women and disturbs me to my core. I hope I never hear the phrase “Asian persuasion” again or “exotic” like we are some seductive fetishized foreign object rather than individuals.

Also mixed kids need to be normalized. Being mixed is becoming more common now thankfully but growing up in the 90s and early 2000s, I had people ask me if I was adopted, if my mom was my nanny, or “what am I?” and “Where are you from?” This is so alienating. And we’re still at a point where we’re being fetishized because of “how exotic we look”. Please take a moment to understand why these are issues.

It’s only within the last few years that I’ve gotten more comfortable sharing my identity as the world becomes more accepting of different cultures. Although current events show why I’m still weary with sharing my identity with people I don’t know.

And yes, I am privileged in many ways to be white passing because I have the option to blend in easier. I have realized this year more than ever just how privileged I am and oblivious I was. But I also feel the weight of pain our communities feel. And grief is grief. Struggles are struggles. Pain is pain. We need solidarity to move forward.

So I’ve been really touched the past 24 hours how much support and outcry there has been. My boyfriend (also half Asian) and I were saying how it’s actually weird seeing all this Asian stuff. I had to do a double take at what was happening- to see so many people talking about it. We’ve always just dealt with it and somehow society made us feel that’s just how it was. We were used to it. We learned to expect it. You learned to deal with it. And you don’t complain. “People have it harder” “We’re lucky to be where we are”. Silent strength. And silent suffering.

I think of my grandma and her strength. And how she never complained. And it breaks my heart to think of the things she must have endured throughout her life. She was my hero. So strong and so quirky and so herself. And I think of how all of that is in my mom and my sister and I. Being Chinese to me is to be resilient. My people have been through so much yet we’re taught to keep our heads down, work hard, and not complain.

So it really warms my heart seeing so many people speaking out about this and supporting us right now. It’s really moving to see how much positive support can help heal a hurting community. Just seeing people speak up is healing in itself. That people are listening and our problems are actually real. That we’re not overreacting. Victims normally don’t see themselves as victims if they’ve been manipulated to think their pain is normal.

That’s how it’s been for Asian people. (model minority myth at play here). And this is the problem with the model minority myth: It is crafted out of white supremacy to preach “congratulations you should be proud you climbed your way out of poverty. Not like those other folks. Look at the bright side. Forget the rest. Forget the torment we put you through. Forget the past. Aren’t you so glad to be you, a model citizen, a respectable citizen” when in reality it is giving a false sense of security and false praise in a society that is still so very hostile towards you. It delegitimizes our pain and manipulatively puts us against other minorities. It “deems” us closer to white even though that’s not true at all. It’s not a scale of white to black and everything in between. We are all unique cultures and something we just happen to have in common is that we are all not white. We all know what it’s like to be the minority. And we have strength in solidarity.

This has been a moment of clarity for me for my identity. I grieved and I’m still grieving for those lost and their families. Because they could have been me. They could have been my own loved ones.

Empathy can create so much change and healing. So please, when a community calls out for help, please return the call. Picture yourself in their shoes. For them to endure so much pain to finally reach the breaking point of calling out for help- it means it’s serious.

This past year has shown how much white supremacy upholds our society. It really does permeate every major artery, crack and corner of this place. It’s also shown how easily it’s tolerated. Excuse after excuse is made to uphold it and it’s time for that to stop. Thank you thank you thank you to everyone being vocal about this, everyone who is evaluating how their thoughts, words, jokes, or actions could be part of the problem(it’s not your fault, it’s the society we grew up in), and to everyone who reached out. Thank you.

I feel like a weight has been lifted finishing this painting and at the same time I am finding peace with my identity. Being Asian is having an unspoken bond with other Asians because you’ve all been through similar struggles. You are brothers and sisters in solidarity. And that’s what I love about the Asian community. We have an unshakable strength in each other. But recently our community has been violently rocked and traumatized seeing our brothers and sisters murdered and abused. It takes a toll on a community. It’s a collective grieving we are going through. So thank you to everyone returning our call for help. Thank you for listening. And thank you for your love. We will heal but we will need everyone’s help to get rid of white supremacy, racism, and domestic terrorism. And until then we will continue to stand in solidarity with all communities fighting for the same cause✊

I ask of everyone reading this:

Please try and use a lens of empathy to understand why marginalized communities are marginalized as well as their history and struggles.

Please take the time to reflect in the moment if your everyday actions, words, and thoughts perpetuate stereotypes and racism. I’ve caught myself many times. It’s in all of us because we live in a toxic society built on white supremacy. But that’s where the progress comes- when you address it and try and fix it.

Please vote and support leaders who are anti racist. Who work to uplift all communities. Voting and activism works. Rhetoric matters. And politics is not just an old man’s game anymore.

Show solidarity. It means you care.

Have empathy. Do your part to make the world a better place- not just for yourself and the people you care about, but for every human being. The light in me honors the light in you❤️

#asian american #stopasianviolence #stopasianhate #half asian #half Chinese #half kids #mixed kids #racism #racism in America #solidarity #minority #Chinese American

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sophocused · 5 years ago

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I never had an unconditional love like this.

I thought I knew what it was in high school, the time you invested in each other, the honesty and vulnerability you expressed to each other, the picking of fights out of boredom but being loved anyway, being loved even if I was being unreasonable. Looking back, most of the reason I stayed in that 2 year relationship was because, well since we went to the same school, we just had to see each other everyday. Not to bash on it at all, but it was clearly codependent, there was a skewed power dynamic, and we were both in all ways, immature. We ended decently though, not through a text and not through a giant fault. We simply outgrew each other. I loved him in a way that I wanted him to go and figure himself out without it having anything to do with me. I wanted to figure out who I was besides being his girlfriend. I don't regret it, but since it's the only other serious relationship I can compare to, it is worlds away from how I feel in my current relationship.

I was in the second half of my 3rd year in uni, when I decided to download a dating app, just because I wanted to prove to myself that I could talk to people without changing the way I am, without getting scared, without bending to their narrative, I just wanted to show myself I could handle people. It wasn't even for romance at first, because I didn't believe that could come from a dating app. I was just enjoying the validation of matches casually, not getting hopped up, but also intrigued by my newfound lack of anxiety.

My boyfriend right now, I'll call him E, I came across him and recognized him from my first and second year. He was just in my labs, we only shared a few jokes, and he was from the other side of the city. He was cute and tall, and had a vibrant thing about him when it came to his laugh or just the way he carried himself. (I had no idea he was a comp sci student because he was in my science labs)

Anyway, those first impressions were enough for me to swipe right on him for this time, even though I hadn't seen him in over a year, and never really spoke to him. What's pretty crazy is I was already about a week into talking a different guy (we'll call him G, who was being too hot and cold about how he felt about me) what's more unbelievable is, I messaged E first, which I didn't normally do. It was simple, just seeing if he recognized me from those labs as well.

I still remember saying, "woow you saw my scrubby 830am self and still swiped right, I'm flattered".

And he said, "what can I say? I couldn't resist your face".

We were both awkward and very clearly busy with our midterms coming up but he kept up, we were both intrigued by the other's identities and the lives led, the stories behind them, mannerisms and just the way we talked and spoke. A balanced playing field of expressing a genuine urge to connect and to know the other.

He was like an opposite, yet the two of us felt like both sides of the same coin. How our minds traversed and how unraveled we conversed just made sense, attuned to each other's language, even though it did feel like we were from different planets. Maybe it was because we welcomed and embraced our differences, celebrated them as much as we beamed at our similarities.

Our relationship didn't progress in the way that had too much likeness to what I saw in modern media of how romance sparked, and I was fortunate of that. There were no mind games, no milestones of closeness like giving pet names, or getting flaunted on each other's social media (not that that is a bad thing for couples to do, it is just not my standard of measuring development/stability)

We dove into difficult conversations casually; religion (he's protestant, and I'm catholic), politics, our stance on love, our constant stance with each other, feelings for each other, plans for the future, issues we were passionate about, the changes we want to make, the life we want to lead, the person we were and the person we were trying to be. For hours, talking to him, being with him, felt like a privilege I was honoured to be bestowed with. I felt "lucky" that I got to keep enjoying this man's company.

The pandemic made us both difficult, difficult being an understatement for my case. New couples would commonly give up after first signs of struggle and the need for even better communication. (At least that's what I was taught to expect from heterosexual relationships, and my experiences with men). Through the pandemic, losing my rhythm and my entire daily routine that made me proud of who I was, I grew to dislike myself, breaking down all I had built up in the past two years, doubting myself and second-guessing every optimistic thought I was barely capable of mustering up.

He, on the other hand, while I went into an involuntary hiatus from loving myself, kept reminding me, that I was still a pleasure to talk to, that I have nothing to worry about, that I can always find my way back to a version of myself that I liked, all while constantly making me feel like my current, self-labeled unworthy self, was undeniably still deserving of his unlimited source of love and care. He never once made me feel like I was asking for too much or made me feel like I was going crazy, or that he is getting tired of me. He had/has such an astounding capacity for ways to love me that I had never set standards for in my life.

He continues to surprise me, as he just helped me get through one of my most difficult low episodes of my life, to the point that I almost hurt myself by telling him to leave my life because I didn't want to end up hurting his love from my declining and fluctuating mental health, and kept waking me up to the fact that my worst fears were only in my head, and that he still could feel my love.

I have never been loved like this, not even by myself, so it is safe to say, I'm excited to keep growing still. No matter how sad I get, I still have the tiniest voice telling me that even now, I am still fully capable of becoming a version of myself whom I love, while loving my current self without labeling myself as a work in progress.

He loves me like this because I am deserving of a love like this. I will remind myself always.

#nina rambles #if you read this im impressed #im just a pisces in love har de har har

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

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the reason people prefer bernie over warren isn't that she used to be a republican, most people genuinely believe the positions she holds now. it's just that those positions A) aren't going to get her elected in a general election, because she comes across as wishywashy on medicare for all, which is much more popular among most americans than centrists think, and republican are GREAT at exploiting the wishy-washy B) isn't gonna cut it with us lefty dems either. bernie polls better against trump.

Hello there! Thank you for your contribution! *

As most people who follow me know, I am not a Political Discourse ™ blog in the usual course of things, and despise Discourse in general. Time is short, lives are precious, and usually arguing with people about politics on the internet is about the most unproductive use of such ever devised. But because you did arrive in my inbox with this opinion, which perfectly exemplifies the dangerous thinking that I was referring to in this post, which I presume is the reason for the pleasure of your company, we’re going to have a chat. I’m going to keep the snark to a minimum, because I am really not a fan of stoking Democratic tribalism or “my candidate is better than your candidate and I can’t vote for anyone else” pissing contests. That being indeed precisely what I was arguing in the above post, and the point of which, alas, you seem to have grasped but dimly. I am therefore going to go through this, because it needs to be deconstructed, and while I may make no impact on you, because I suspect your mind is made up, I am fortunate enough to have a decent following on this blog and maybe someone else will benefit from it. Who knows. The other option is Trump.

So.

Let’s take this one at a time. See for example your first claim, “Elizabeth Warren comes across as wishy-washy on Medicare for All.”

Well….

Have you tried going to her website (elizabethwarren.com) typing in “Medicare for All” and being redirected to the following document? It took me approximately eight seconds to find. It is also not just an attention-grabbing header. The full strategic plan below, when pasted into Microsoft Word, runs to an impressive goddamn 19 pages and almost 8,000 words. It outlines exactly what she will do to achieve this and concludes:

Medicare for All is the best way to guarantee health care to all Americans at the lowest cost. I have a plan to pay for it without raising taxes on middle class families, and the transition I’ve outlined here will get us there within my first term as president. Together, along with additional reforms like my plans to reduce black maternal mortality rates, ensure rural health care, protect reproductive rights, support the Indian Health Service, take care of our veterans, and secure LGBTQ+ equality, we will ensure that no family will ever go broke again from a medical diagnosis – and that every American gets the excellent health care they deserve.

Hmm. Focusing specifically on African-American maternal mortality rates, rural health care, protecting reproductive rights, support for Native Americans, vets, and LGBTQ people? I understand, however, that this can’t cut it with “us lefty Dems,” which you proclaim with the proud assurance that you and the Twitter circles of your acquaintance are in fact the only ones. I’m also… not entirely sure which candidate you’re confusing Warren with, since there are two (2) progressive candidates in this nightmare of white no-name and/or billionaire milquetoast male moderates. Their names are Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders. And every single Warren fan I know is willing to vote for Sanders if he gets the nomination, including me. I made a public pledge to vote for the Democratic candidate even if it’s Goddamn Joe Biden. You can see it here. If you are going to demand miles of receipts for Warren before you consider voting for her (and when her positions are similar to or in several cases, particularly for women, MUCH BETTER than Sanders, yes I said it), then you’re really not going to like what it looks like for the other candidates in this race. Also, are you asking these questions for Sanders, your own preferred nominee?

Next, you…. you do realize the privilege that is dripping off this ask, right? The exact thing of which I also addressed in the previous discussion:

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally.

That is…. at least as presented in this ask, exactly what’s happening here. You’re saying that you (and this mythic America/Lefty Dems ™ of which you grandly extrapolate) can’t vote for Elizabeth Warren because you’re just not vibing with her on the language of a policy proposal which she enthusiastically supports and has written a detailed 20-page manifesto on how to achieve? You really, really believe, deep down in your Bernie Bro Internet Politics bones, that you cannot vote for the smart, fearless, extra-qualified Democratic woman opposing the bankrupt reality star rapist who is literally a Neo-Nazi white supremacist whose administration is wrecking the planet and putting children in cages at the border? To name just one of the Scandal-A-Days that this nightmare administration churns out? Because the Lefty Dems (and please do not lump me and the other active leftist Democrats I know into whatever you’ve got going on here) just won’t stand for that?

Do you even hear yourself?

Did we learn nothing at all from 2016???

I’m going to guess that I’m older than you. I’m not sure whether that matters, but there’s that. It means I remember 9/11, the Bush years, the financial crash of 2008, and how this already went once before. I have also just moved back to the United States after almost half a decade in the United Kingdom, which is currently experiencing its same slow-motion disintegration into hard-right economic isolationism, xenophobia, and late-stage capitalist oligarchy. I’m also a professional historian. So it means that I, for better or worse, have a certain perspective on this, the overall patterns, the way the world has stumbled into this destructive consumerist capitalist 21st century, and what it’s doing to us.

We do not have much time left to fix any of this. I don’t care if it sounds alarmist, it’s true. If you are younger than me, this is also going to become disproportionately your generation’s problem. Rigid intellectual purity tests are exactly the thing that is preventing the left from mobilizing behind one candidate to get Donald Fucking Trump and his cabal of shameless criminals out of there before they kill the lot of us. And I’m not going to back down from saying that mindsets like the one perfectly exemplified in your ask are far more helpful to the Republicans than they are to any of us.

I have said it before, I’ll say it again: I will vote for, donate money to, and raise awareness about whoever the Democratic nominee is. If it’s Sanders, I’m going to friggin’ become a Bernie or Buster. Because at that point, his opponent would be Trump!!! If I am living in a state where it would remotely make a difference in November 2020, since at the moment I’m in Bumfuck Red State Nowhere, I would consider canvassing or volunteering for the campaign, and I am a severe introvert with social anxiety who hates talking to people when I don’t have to. And if I am willing to do this, and you and Lefty Dems ™ of your hallowed intellectual proclivities are sitting on your backsides and bitching about how Warren seems wishy-washy on Medicare for All, well then. One of us is more the problem than the other one, and it isn’t me.

(Also. once again, Bernie Sanders is eighty years old and just had a heart attack. Sorry. That remains an issue for me. There’s a year to go of grueling non-stop campaigning before the general, if he wins the primary. I’m not convinced.)

In conclusion, I have recently adopted a policy of donating a few dollars to Elizabeth Warren every time someone appears in my inbox or notifications with a comment like this. So when I thanked you for your contribution at the start of this post, I was in fact thanking you for your extra-generous donation today, December 10, 2019, to Elizabeth Warren for President:

Peace.

#politics for ts #excuse me i just need to go over here for a second #anonymous #ask

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authorjoyroyal · 4 years ago

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Yeah- it’s one of those NYE posts. Please ignore if you want. I don’t expect anyone to care, but I know this will pop up in memory next year, and I feel the need to document for myself and spill a little verbal (written) processing. So here’s my personal top hard and top good for 2020 (general struggle notwithstanding. There’s been a lot of collective awful that touched us all, and goes without saying).... in no particular order:

Hard-

1. Personal change. Trying to grow as a human is NOT easy, pretty, smooth, smiley or fun. I hate knowing that as I stumble forward, I’ve hurt people I care about- however unintentionally, and I’ve made some huge mistakes this year. I’m changing radically as a human, and the fear, guilt, and struggle involved with that is deeply felt and sometimes paralyzing. It has caused feelings of disconnection and isolation in some relationships. I’ve wondered so many times if as a human I’m getting better or getting worse.

2.Self-hatred. I’ve realized some deep seated, damaging, and destructive patterns in my life.... Got any tips on deeply rooted self-hatred? Yep, me either. It’s hard to even know where to start. Especially when on some level, it feels like a righteous way to live.

3.Disappearance of art. I’ve struggled to find an outlet this year. They say actors don’t conjure extraneous emotion for their art, but rather their art is the way they work out the overabundance of emotion they already possess. I identify HEAVILY with this, and I have had to face having no “pressure release valve” for most of this year. Some days I can put it in its nice box and leave it on the shelf, and other days it feels like drowning or suffocating under the weight of my own soul.

4.Watching my kids process this pandemic. The number of times my kids have just lost it over all of the adjusting and change that they’ve been expected to field this year breaks my heart. I don’t feel like I know well enough how to help them. I want to make it better. I want their “normal” back for their little hearts that are craving consistency and certainty and calm.

5.Hugs. I can’t tell you how much I miss hugging people. A night at Brazen Head seeing people I haven’t in a long time. A lobby or a stage door after seeing my friends do something amazing. I miss the human connection and physical anchoring.

6.Caretaking. This is nothing new. My hubby is working hard on getting well, but this year has still been full of being “everything to everyone” at home. I’m thankful for every ounce of strength God has allowed me to do what is necessary, but some days I’m just spent and empty of what I need.

7.Loss and near loss. Suicide touched our lives in big ways this year. We lost one, and nearly lost another. The grief and shock of these is hard to describe or even begin to process.

Good-

1. My job. I started technically in 2019, but only for a few weeks, and this year has truly been my beginning there. I work for incredibly generous people, who expect a lot out of us, but treat us like valuable, vulnerable, worthwhile assets to their company, not cogs in a wheel. It’s incredibly challenging. I’ve absorbed large portions of multiple positions since being there, and I’ve learned a ton. I work my butt off, especially in the summer months... but we have fun too, and all genuinely like each other, even when we differ, or navigate the bad days. It’s by FAR the most “grown up” job I’ve ever had (which I have mixed feelings about, but mostly love), and it’s been an incredible blessing to have at least some measure of stability in the midst of a potentially REALLY unstable year.

2. Once. That show broke me, and grew me, and gratified me and gave me incredible gifts. Each one of my cast mates was SO special and valuable and talented and kind and supportive and loved. I still have wrap gifts sitting in my closet for them all, because we ended so abruptly... as I look back at how heartbroken we all were to lose our last 6 performances, I am now SO incredibly thankful for the time we DID get... with no idea how privileged and rare that was going to make our show in the 2020 season. God knew I needed the show to open. He knew I needed the encouragement and the kindness of those who supported my performance, and that without opening I would have always “known” that my imposter syndrome was right after all... He knew I’d have forever told myself “if we’d opened, everyone would have seen how disappointing I was”... I needed to learn to enjoy the piano again. I needed to have an occasion that felt too big, so that I could rise closer to accomplishing it, and look back, proud of how hard I worked. I needed the mental still and silence of being in the moment while singing “the Hill”.

3. My hubby’s progress. Between his own growth, his support for me, his tender and growing heart, and a new doctor who ACTUALLY LISTENS, Stephen is getting closer and closer to “well”, and I enjoy him so much. We’ve come such a long way through so much, and I’m so happy to be married to someone who, no matter what, is teachable and humble. Watching him suffer and grieve and struggle to function these past few years has been so hard, but I’m so pleased we’ve had so much more function and fun together.

4.Our kitty, Roxy. Both pets, really, but our awesome doggo was adopted in summer of 2019... our family is feeling very complete with the addition of our furry friends, and even with the inconveniences or responsibilities, I’m finding that I ADORE having pets in our life.

5.Healing and help for a loved one. As I said, after losing one, I nearly lost another someone who is close to me to suicide, and I’m so thrilled to see how well they are doing now. I’m so unbelievably thankful they are safe and seeing redemption of a lot of hurts in their life.

6.Jeremiah 32:27.... if you care to, look it up. It’s always been my favorite verse, but currently planning the reference as my next tattoo.

7.People. New, renewed, and continued friendships- even when we couldn’t be together like normal... I’ve had some of the most meaningful and lovely interactions this year, despite what we’ve all been through. My kids. Such a tough year for them, but looking past all of the outbursts or rough behaviors, I see two girls getting soooo grown up and mature, who are delightful. New people to look up to, and a more realistic views (hard perhaps, but healthy, and ultimately helpful) of some others.

This list feels incomplete but there’s some 2020 feels.

#2020 #nye #happynewyear

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arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass · 5 years ago

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The Progress of Arthur Morgan | Chapter 3

A/N: I’m sooo sorry I forgot to post yesterday! I got too caught up playing TLOU for idk, the 5th or 6th time because I’m a dirty rat and would totally suck Joel’s dick? Anyways, here’s the conclusion to this thrilling saga, by yours truly! As always, please, give the feedback! Thanks for reading in advance!

Playlist

Word Count: 8,200 words oof

Chapters: 1 | 2

Arthur had started greeting you with a kiss on the cheek about two or three sessions ago, and you were taken aback by the sudden change in behavior — usually he’d stick to the trivial nod of head, maybe a shake of hands, but this was a bit over the top.

You had blinked at him, flustered at the sudden easiness in which he seemed to touch you. With a sudden wave of uneasiness, you took in the small details, his trimmed hair and carefully shaven face, clothing on the nicer side of his wardrobe and a terribly good smelling sandalwood cologne.

Over the past weeks, he had made considerable improvements on his self-image and body language, seemingly more at ease with himself at each session, his behavior growing more flirtatious and teasing with time. It made you happy, to see Arthur progressing like that, but that last bit worried you. It wasn’t unusual for patients to feel attracted to their therapists, but it was rare for them to actively pursued it.

It took half a heartbeat for you to realize that you were most likely in deep shit.

“How are we doing this week, Arthur?,” you had asked him with a tight smile, ignoring the flutter of your stomach at the way he smiled at you, as if aware of the effect he had over you.

“All good, I s’ppose,” he shrugged lightly, apparently not too keen on highlighting any moment of his week, “same old, same old.”

“Same old would be a lie,” you laughed at his offhanded comment, moving to take a seat at your armchair, all too aware of the way Arthur was watching you. “We’ve come a long way since your first session and you seem far better, from my point of view.”

Arthur scoffed, averting his gaze with a flustered look. He soon chuckled, smile widening at your words. “Geez, doc— you can’t go ‘round blurtin’ out stuff like that.”

Was he blushing?

Crap.

“I’m just saying the obvious,” you tried to contour the situation, feeling the twist of emotion in your stomach. “I mean, you’re clearly taking better care of yourself, dressing better—“

At this, he smirked, fixing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Arthur shrugged again, as nonchalant as he could be. “S’ppose I have, don’t have to mean anythin’.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you said in a secretive voice, curiosity dripping from your words, “don’t you dare shit me.”

He laughed warmly, the light of it making the corner of his eyes crinkle, no longer hiding behind his hand. Arthur was charming. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before. “Let’s say there’s someone,” he started, seeming to be examining you for a reaction, “would you look down on me ‘cause of it?”

“Why would I do such a thing?,” you inquired, wary of the nature of the conversation.

The man huffed out a breath, leaning forwards in his seat in an intimate way as if to tell you a particularly nasty piece of gossip. “Well, all things considered, I just got out of a sinkin’ marriage, doc,” his eyebrows shot up, as if stating the obvious. “Sure sounds weird, me suddenly goin’ ‘round with someone else after barely a couple months, ain’t that so?”

You mouth suddenly felt dry, but you nodded nevertheless. “Each has their own time to heal, I suppose… but if you need to hear it, I wouldn’t look down or think less of you because of that.”

He seemed satisfied, a sheepish little smile blossoming on his full lips. The man seemed almost boyish with the way his eyes fixated on you, the warmth in it threatening to smother you. “Ain’t sure if she likes me yet,” Arthur said quizzically, smile broadening at your nodding answer, “but I sure am tryin’ to catch her eye.”

“It’s good to see that you’re allowing yourself room to grow,” you spoke gently, fighting the urge to prod on the subject, “it makes me proud knowing you’re reaching out for the things you want, Arthur.”

The man cocked his head to the side, an enigmatic little smile playing on his lips as he watched and you could swear his eyes dallied a second too long on your left hand. “Yer told me you’ve divorced too” he started casually, a teasing lilt in his voice as he leaned back, “never told me how that went down for you.”

“Ah,” you gasped out as your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard, “I don’t think— I mean,” you smiled nervously, fixing your hair, “it’s— it was okay for me.”

Arthur laughed softly, amused at how he had been able to knock you off your feet. “Don’t tell me I’ve ruffled your feathers, doc,” he teased, “why did you divorce?”

Because my husband was a lying piece of garbage who had been fucking the desk attendant, of all people, behind my back as I worked my ass off sounded a bit too extreme, you decided. With a placid smile, you answered:

“I suppose we couldn’t see eye to eye anymore,” your hands tightened on your lap and you trained your gaze on some point above Arthur’s shoulder, “eventually, other people came around and we grew distant.”

He watched you, as if absorbing that piece of information and deciding if he should ask more on it. “Did he cheat on you?,” Arthur asked, all the amusement and jeering gone from his voice, replaced by genuine worry. You had a hard time trying to remember if you’ve seen him this serious.

You turned your head to the side, running away from the question. “I believe we should be talking about you, Arthur—“

“I’m tired of talking ‘bout myself,” Arthur interrupted in a soft voice, “we been seein’ each other once a week, for months now. Figured I should get to know yer a little more, ‘s all.”

With a steadying breath, you rubbed your lips together, tasting the sweetness of your lipgloss. What was he trying to do, cornering you like that? “I don’t think—“

“Don’t give me the ethics talk,” Arthur complained, sighing wearily, “think we’re well past that. ‘sides, I just asked yer a question,” his eyebrows jutted up, a soft smile playing on his full lips. “What’s wrong with that?”

You flirting with me is everything that’s wrong with it¸ you thought to yourself, trying not to seem too closed off, and the worst part is that I want to flirt back.

“I see your point,” you spoke up, in your best nonchalant voice. “I suppose that’s fair.

“Well?,” Arthur probed further, gently. “Don’t have to tell me if I’m pushin’ too hard, doc. I’m just curious ‘bout you, ‘s all.”

“He cheated on me,” came your quiet confession, gaze resting on his eyes, so blue now you swore you could drown in them. You wanted to cry. “With one of our front desk attendants, about 2 years ago.”

Arthur nodded comprehensively, wary not to abuse his already stretched thin luck. You swallowed thickly, trying hard not to seem too sensitive over it. “We divorced and split the money, I got the house and he took the car, nothing new there. I’m okay with it.”

What an awful liar.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to upset yer, doc.”

“It’s okay,” you turned your attention to him now, forcing a smile, “it’s behind me.”

Arthur blinked, letting the silence settle in until you squirmed. And then, suddenly, he reached forwards, slowly, offering you his upturned palm. “Thanks for tellin’ me, doc.”

You hesitated, the few centimeters between you both diminishing by half. Your own hand moved, brushing his fingers before gently allowing him to hold it. Arthur’s hand squeezed yours and you noticed how warm his touch was, almost comforting, like a long waited embrace. You gasped out quietly, allowing the tears to pool in your eyes before wiping at them.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, listening the thunderous beating of your heart, hoping it wouldn’t give you away. “It’s okay, Arthur.”

He squinted at you, smiling so softly it made your heart clench — and you had to restrain yourself not to pull away in distress. “It’ll be.”

You pushed the entrance door open, the well known jingle of the bell ringing over your head.

The café you usually went to wasn’t a busy one — a small little thing, a family business with an incredibly sweet Italian cappuccino, just the way you liked it, with an adorably white-and caramel themed decoration —, and today wasn’t any different. With a pleasant smile, took a deep breath in, the smell of coffee and delicacies filling the air as you scanned a good spot to sit down at and maybe update your logbook.

You refused to actively address the issue at hand, opting for avoidance rather direct confrontation.

Arthur had been a recurring subject on your mind for the past few weeks, and what with after the little display a couple days ago, the presence of his character only intensified itself — much to your despair. His hands had felt so incredibly warm against the cool tips of your fingers, gentle and steady, much like his very presence and overall disposition whenever he walked into the listening room lately.

You were satisfied for him, really, proud of the path he had taken towards self-improvement and acceptance — Arthur was far better than when he came to you all those months ago, the curling satisfaction in your chest doing all the more to have you feel like an important part of it. Arthur needed reassurance, a little bit of recognition to realize his own self-worth, resourcing to it every once in a while, which you were all too happy to provide. The look in his eyes whenever you said something kind to him made your heart beat faster — the warmth there, the satisfaction on top of the inherent need to have someone to simply listen.

Scouting a place to sit was easy enough, your gaze sweeping through the few occupied tables to find a quiet and secluded spot for yourself, where you could possibly dissect your feelings revolving Arthur—

Until you found him sitting at the corner of the shop.

Arthur had his chin resting on his hand, holding a pencil as he scribbled something away in the journal you had gifted him — and your heart swelled with affection for him, tinged with a little bit of satisfaction by having him actually enjoy something you had given to him. There was half an empty cup of coffee at his table, beside a plate with half of a sandwich and you figured he must’ve arrived not too long ago.

He didn’t seem to have noticed you, too focused on the task at hand to actually pay much mind to whatever was happening around him. The thought had you smiling with fondness, for some reason.

Your hand tightened around the strap of your shoulderbag. You wanted to sit with him, you realized with a shocking realization; maybe have a coffee and chat a little. Arthur was by no means a bad company, he was funny and witty, having an air of caring disposal to his personality that made you enjoy every minute you could get with him.

It was just a chat, a little voice at the back of your mind reasoned. Just a casual conversation. There would be no harm in that. You were simply being amicable, weren’t you? Friendly, just plain and simple. With a steadying breath, you moved towards him, smile automatically broadening as you got closer.

You were in deep shit.

“How are we doing today, Arthur?,” you asked in your therapeutic voice and Arthur perked up immediately.

He turned to you, setting the pencil down as soon as soon as his eyes caught yours and you could tell he was surprised, but wasted no time on getting to his feet. “Hey, doc,” he spoke casually, bending down to press a polite kiss to the side of your face like he’d done a thousand times. You felt your face burn up just a little. “didn’t expect to run into you here.”

You nodded, absolutely not regretting it. “It’s a small place, yes; I confess that’s the main reason why I like coming here. Also, it has a really good cappuccino.”

Arthur chuckled, the sound of it familiar and comforting to you at this point. “Yeah, well, just got here myself. Was workin’ at the journal and I have to admit, you were right ‘bout it. It’s quite calmin’.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve enjoyed it, really,” you offered gently, feeling brave enough to risk a fleeting brush to his shoulder. You marveled at the way he always seemed to feel so warm and solid every time you touched him. “Like I said, it’s a good way to voice your feelings, quite soothing.”

He smiled softly at you. “Yeah, good excuse to practice my watercolor too,” Arthur motioned towards the leather bound journal, obviously at ease, “good pages for it, too. I’m surprised you knew.”

You shrugged lightly, quickly avoiding your gaze before looking at him again. “I just had a hunch, I think.”

Arthur breathed out a laugh, sitting back sideways on the white cushioned chair in order to face you. “Wanna take a look at it?”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the offer. It was innocent enough, but it still made your heartbeat raise a little, and you hesitated. “Oh, you don’t have to show it to me—“

“Nonsense,” Arthur waved his hand dismissively, motioning for you to sit across from him at the beige colored sofa-booth right beside the window, “wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want ya to take a peek, ‘sides you’re yet to see some art by me, right?” He smiled softly, in an inviting way, “tell me what you think.”

It’s okay, you told yourself, just take a look at it, maybe have a coffee and—

Who said anything about coffee?!

With a mortified sense of self-awareness, you made your way to the sofa-booth. It was an intimate way to sit with someone, especially with the small table and warmth emanating from everywhere around you. Arthur picked up the menu, passing it to you with a sweet smile.

“Order somethin’ for yourself, doc,” he drawled, in voice that could only be classified as teasing, as if he knew the effect he had on you. “Now yer obligated to spend some time with me.”

Laughing, you took the menu from him and set it down. “I guess you caught me in your trap, Mr. Morgan. How rude of you.”

Arthur hummed, trying to look smug. “I’m smarter than I look like.”

“Quite,” you agreed, smiling at the flustered look that passed through his features for a split second. “Won’t you order me something, since you’re so smart?”

He watched you for a moment, almost surprised, before deciding on it and picking up the discarded menu. “Let’s see,” his gaze lingered on your face, flicking every so often downwards, “you seem like the kind who goes by somethin’ sweet,” he spoke more to himself and you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“So does you,” you motioned towards the half drained mocha coffee sitting by his hand, “although I’d never have guessed. You seemed like the type to take it straight to me.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, a light chuckle at the back of his throat. “Good to know I can still surprise you somehow, doc.”

Oh, he had no idea.

“What do you have in mind, then?,” you asked, trying to peek at the menu, only to have Arthur pull it more closely to him with an amused laugh.

“I’ll say either Italian cappuccino or mochaccino,” he announced with finality, putting the little booklet aside and moving to his own cup of half finished coffee. “I’ll let you pick which, cuz whatever you’re having, I’ll want one too; if you don’t mind.”

You tried to hide your smile, looking over to one of the waitresses and signaling for her to come over and take the order. Arthur stayed silent, watching you somewhat fondly, until the waitress left, taking the empty cup and the plate in which only a small portion of his sandwich remained after he had said he wouldn’t be finishing it.

“Are you going to show me your journal,” you started casually, pointing to it, “or was it just a way to trick me into having a coffee with you?”

Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender before speaking up. “Maybe a lil’ bit of both, I’ll admit. Just hope you don’t mind much.”

You sighed, cocking your head to the side with a sense of familiarity. A tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind that you were taking things too far; but you preferred to ignore it in order to have Arthur looking at you the way he did now. “Very well then,” you acquiesced gently, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “let’s see what you have.”

“Ain’t much writing,” he explained, picking it up and passing it to you “just drawings n’ such, few watercolors, ‘s all.”

His fingers brushed yours when you touched the leather cover, which made you startle slightly, coughing a bit to diffuse the tension. With a little surprise, you noticed that Arthur had nearly used half of the pages already. “You sure liked the idea, don’t know why you never took to it before.”

Arthur shrugged, watching you open the journal and examine a particularly skillful work of a riverbank forestline, the goldish-orange hue of it making it clear which season it was. “Just needed the right push, s’ppose.”

“That’s…,” you ran your hands over the picture, turning to see a pencil sketch of a bird on the next page, beside what you thought was the perfect representation of a tree leaf on the other side. He was skilled, definitely. “Arthur, that’s so beautiful…”

The man scoffed a little, clearly embarrassed. “Ain’t much, but thank you—“

“No,” you interjected softly, turning to the next page for a particularly good-looking representation of blue flowers, which you recognized to be a clump of forget-me-nots, their name written below in neat calligraphy with Arthur’s signature beside. “I mean it, they’re really beautiful.”

“Ah,” he gasped, standing up and quickly moving to your side and you unthinkingly made room for him to sit beside you. “I forgot to give this one to you,” Arthur pointed to it, “thought you deserved a little thank you for… well, you know, didn’t have to buy the journal, but since you did—“

You turned to look at him, the realization and embarrassment slowly creeping in and covering your cheeks in a pinkish hue. “Oh, please, you don’t have to—“

“Aw, c’mon, doc,” he gently pulled the journal from your hands, steadying the pages to rip off the one with the watercolor meant for you, “it’s the least I could do.”

He passed it you, feigning nonchalance, but you noticed how nervous he was; so you took it in your hands, marveling once more at how beautiful it was. “I don’t know what to say, it really is beautiful, Arthur,” you glanced up at him, smiling, “thank you so much.”

“s nothin’,” he half muttered, with a sheepish little smile, pushing the leather bound book back to you, but he didn’t move to go back to his chair across from you. “Just thought you’d like it, ‘s all.”

Trying to repress your own smile, you averted your gaze and set it aside to keep it from crumpling or staining, turning your attention once more to the journal. This was a red light, a big red light — and you tried to play it off as a gentleness, nothing more than that, just Arthur being kind to you. He was an artist, you reminded yourself, and he painted things all the time. It was okay.

You turned the pages idly, examining animal studies and plants, coupled with a few other watercolors — from childhood memories, a few other landscapes, a perky looking brownish dog which Arthur explained to be the one he owned when younger.

“Hosea and Dutch took me to the animal shelter, couple weeks after I came ‘round. Love at first sight, I say,” Arthur chuckled, scratching at his chin, “he was one mad pup, always had his snout where it shouldn’t be.”

“You never mentioned you had a dog,” you commented idly, turning to look at him with a pleasant smile, “I didn’t think you were a dog person.”

Arthur snickered, resting his elbow on the table and leaning into it a little. “Never got the opportunity to mention, ‘s all.”

You watched him for a second, taking in the soft smile on his lips and the warmth of his eyes; so incredibly open you could barely believe how clamped up he had seemed to be when you first met. The coffee had come and was gone now, with how entranced you were by the conversation — and so was Arthur, to your absolute glee —, and you were entertaining the idea of ordering another one just to not have to leave.

Politely skipping Arthur’s writings, you preferred not to pry on his thoughts, instead focusing on his artwork — which were, once more, breathtaking. He paid close attention to details, you noticed. There was a myriad of subjects, but it was clear that Arthur had, indeed, a keen interest in nature. You didn’t know why, but it made you smile. As much as he was willing to share things with you, there was still a lot to discover.

“I wonder where you picked up drawing from,” you whispered outloud, caressing the page of a watercolor of the silhouette of a hare standing out against the sun as it set.

“From Hosea,” Arthur said, leaning closer to the book in order to examine the art himself. Christ, he smelled perfect. “He taught me most of it, but I just got better with time, y’know.”

You nodded, smiling. All you wanted was to lean sideways and rest your head on his shoulder, but you held back, instead turning the page.

And at that, you cocked your head to the side.

It wasn’t the recreation of a budding flower or a bird spreading its wings ready to fly, there was no landscape or careful study of animal anatomy; no leaves

Instead, you looked at a picture of yourself.

You were standing, about half of your torso in it, next to the desk you kept at the listening room; a serene, yet focused expression on your face as you read through the stack of papers there, the profile of your face highlighted beautifully in Arthur’s skills. The colors he had picked for you were soft, pastel-like, putting together an overall dreamy picture and you could see everything, you noticed; the tiny strands of hair, the glimmer of your eyes, the gentle way that your shoulders slouched a bit. Your lips were pulled up slightly, in a quirky smile and there was an overall soft pink hue to your cheeks.

It was simply beautiful.

Turning to look at Arthur, you found yourself out of words. You tried to say something — anything! —, but you could simply look at him, either in shock or realization, you couldn’t really tell. His eyes drifted to yours and he smiled sheepishly, looking way softer than he had ever in the whole time you had known him. His presence now was nerve-wracking, every inch of your body responding to him as if to electricity.

Arthur leaned closer to you, his breathing fanning warmly against your face at his proximity and it felt almost surreal as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. His hand touched yours, cradling it in his touch as he took the opportunity to brush his nose gently against the sensitive skin. You unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes.

It was sweet, achingly so, the way he touched you; almost as if you were made of spun glass, a precious treasure to keep. His fingers tangled with yours and he sighed, pulling back to look at you with half-lidded eyes. The same smile was still there, only softer this time, more of admiration and tenderness than anything else.

With a pinkish hue creeping to your cheeks, you noticed the way which Arthur’s gaze dipped ever so slightly to your lips, coming back up a couple times. He wanted to kiss you, came the realization. You reached out, touching his warm cheek with the tips of your fingers, running them around to the back of his neck, making Arthur close his eyes.

There was a pause as you took in the softness in his expression, the way which he leaned into your touch like a something he’d craved for a long time; his free hand coming up to wrap on your wrist. With a flutter in you stomach, you finally caved, leaning towards him for a kiss.

The kiss was so gentle, the soft press of his lips to yours smooth and perfect. Arthur sighed into it, squeezing your hand fondly as he coached you to open your mouth and give him entrance; a request you could never deny. He was surrounding you, the warmth of his touch on your hand and the sweetness of the cappuccino on his tongue a constant reminder.

Your fingers tightened on his hand, unwilling to let go.

You were fucked, you realized instantly.

You brushed your hair slowly, pensively at the vanity of your bedroom. The moon was high in the sky as you stared at your own reflection. Had you committed the worst mistake in your profession? Allowed yourself to catch feelings for your patient, as well as captivating them in him? There was no way of knowing for certain.

Nevertheless, the treatment had seemed to be nearing the end. You’d close off Arthur Morgan’s file and hopefully drown your feelings in an unholy amount of ice cream and vodka, like any divorced woman would.

He was handsome, you reasoned with yourself, and so unbelievably sweet. Such a good kisser, too, gentle and loving. Even with his tendency to clamp up, Arthur was willing to let people in if they cared enough to stick around for him. It made you wonder if he really was so bad that his ex-wife had wanted to divorce him, but…

Did you even know Arthur?

Well, you felt like you did. People never lied in therapy and it was easy to follow things through and the diagnosis would come together and you figured out where to work, plus you had the reference contacts. It all matched. Sometimes people just wanted to talk and it was easier without the judgment of someone they knew — hence the reason why there couldn’t be a prior contact between patients and therapists aside from the listening room.

You set the brush down, watching yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you had made a mistake. You were still recovering from your own failed marriage, your ex-husband having been a poor excuse for a companion for the past 8 years of your life. You were confused, Arthur was caring and you got carried away. That was it.

If he had been anything like Arthur, a tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind, you’d probably still be married. Maybe even with children.

“What the fuck,” you whispered at yourself, “what the actual fuck—“

You started entertaining the idea of referring him to someone else, a colleague maybe, someone who wouldn’t catch feelings for him but then—

Arthur has trust issues, you reminded yourself angrily, if you refer him to someone else, especially after that long of therapy, he’ll feel dejected. We’re speaking of lives, here. You know the prognosis. You can’t.

Even if you wanted to.

“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling the start of a migraine building up. You paced in an antsy manner in your bedroom before deciding to storm towards the office. You needed the files.

The room was clear, with hues of soft blues and white furnishing to keep your books and logs into shelves. Tying your hair back into a loose knot, you fished Arthur’s logbook from between a disarray of books that looked the same for anyone else asides from you, flicking the pages quickly until you found his entry. You felt as if you were intruding, checking at his logbook like that, even though you were his therapist. You were supposed to accompany his case and make sure he was progressing, not risking your career as a whole because of an infatuation—

You put your reading glasses on with an annoyed sound at the back of your throat.

-> Patient seems to have become less intolerant towards his emotions, displays more willingness to talk about them occasionally + improved verbalization and recognition;

-> Has stopped shying away from family topics; speaks blandly about early childhood;

-> Settled divorce has caused relief, patient has started to develop more self-confidence + vocalization of his wants;

-> Has shown a willingness for connection with others;

-> Patient has shown uneasiness about the ending of treatment; possible codependency?

-> Difficulty when it comes to reaching out for things he wants + unbelieving of self-worth on certain situations (needs work); strives for reassurance every now and then.

Frowning you set the logbook down, with a shivering sigh. Just a couple months more, until the end of the six months period and you’d be able to breath properly — maybe even talk to a colleague about your situation.

When it came to Arthur Morgan, all the years of experience dried up as if an empty well.

With a sickening drop of your stomach, you sat down on your office desk, pulling out a clean paper branded with your name and wrote down a patient referral letter alongside a clean copy of Arthur’s logbook. You decided to keep the flirty behavior and professional boundaries crossed aside, not wanting to get in trouble, alleging that you felt like you could no longer help your client. The moonlight filtering through the window seemed to be the only witness of your deeds, silent and judging.

There was no way you could keep seeing Arthur, you told yourself with a painfully tight tinge of pain in your chest, not when he messed with your head like that, the way you had kissed; and with you willing to bend the rules and blur the lines between your relationship just to indulge him, the memory of the kiss still fresh on your mind. You were no rookie, no fresh-out-of-a-classroom therapist, with only theories to guide you.

You were a seasoned therapist. You had experience and an outlined career path, with good mentors, of a decent formation. You’ve always had a good way with people, always been told you were a good listener. It’s not supposed to happen like this, you kept telling yourself as the letter came to be. It simply isn’t.

You signed it off with a flourish, like a death sentence. You’d make sure to find a colleague who’d suit his needs, better than you ever possibly could — and to call his referral contact, Hosea, later tomorrow. It’s for the best, you told yourself.

Freud had once said that psychoanalysis is, in its essence, a cure through love. It was healing, pure and nurturing, but the love in which he referred to had nothing to do with developing affairs with your patients. You were supposed to listen to Arthur, help him realize his own inner strength and send him off back on his way; and you had done it a thousand times before, with countless clients.

Your eyes welled up with tears of frustration and you leaned forwards to press your forehead against the sealed off envelope on your desk, as if hoping it’d give you the answers you needed.

The day dragged slowly, with you delivering the letter to one of your colleagues of a different clinic, who had experience around the same area as you — he was polite enough not to ask about your sudden decision, looking suspicious, but took the document nevertheless. You passed along details regarding referral contacts and little conjectures on diagnosis and approaches for Arthur — how he seemed to be fond of humor when nervous, his eye contact avoidance when uncomfortable and etc.

Your colleague took notes slowly, fixing you with the look of someone who wanted to ask more, but decided against it.

After getting the worst part of it done, you left the clinic, walking out in the brisk autumn air towards your car, sighing loudly once the door was shut. “Fuck,” you muttered in the deafening silence.

Might as well get it done with. You fished out your cellphone, quickly finding Hosea’s number and dialing to explain the situation for him, doing your best to sound calm once he his voice came up from the other side of the line. “Hello?,” there was a clattering of dishes in the background and you supposed he was in the kitchen.

“Hello, Mr. Matthews,” you said softly, trying to avoid a tremor in your voice, “it’s Arthur’s therapist, I was wondering if you had some time to talk?”

“Ah, yes,” he replied promptly and you heard a door being closed and shuffling, someone asking about the call. Maybe he had gone to the garden? “Has something happened? Is Arthur okay?”

“No need to worry,” you bit your lip, closing your eyes, “Arthur is completely fine. I’m just calling to let you know that unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay with him for the remaining sessions of our treatment—“

“He hasn’t offended you, has he?,” the man asked suddenly, sounding worried, “boy has a poor filter, but his heart is right.”

“No, he…,” you gulped, shaking your head as more tears welled up, “he’s a good patient, but I do believe that your son would be in more capable hands with another therapist.” Hosea hummed thoughtfully, considering your words. “I took the liberty of putting together a referral letter, with all his documentation and information and passed it along to a few colleagues and fortunately one of them replied to me,” you pushed your hair back, trying to keep the tremor off of your voice, “I just left his office, actually.”

“I see…” Hosea sounded surprised, even though he agreed, “that’s a bit sudden, though. I thought you were getting along nicely, weren’t you?”

Perhaps too nicely, you wanted to reply.

“We are, I’ve built a strong bond with Arthur, but I feel like his situation is now beyond my capability as a professional, unfortunately.”

The man hummed, considering your words. “Huh,” he sounded wary, as if not entirely pleased, but understanding. “Will you pass me the information on your colleague then?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you sighed out thankfully, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, “do you have paper?”

It was wasn’t until a month later that you heard of Arthur, mind constantly wandering off to conjure him in the empty seat of the listening room. The brown throw-pillow of the loveseat seemed far too neat for your liking now, and you picked it up slowly. You missed him, you realized with a sudden wave of emotion. Was it possible to mourn a romance that never came to be? Did he miss you too? You couldn’t possibly know, nor shouldn’t. It was for the best if you severed ties with him.

As if on cue, your phone started ringing, snapping you out of your daydream. Frowning, you recognized the name as the one of your colleague which you had referred Arthur to, and you flopped down on the loveseat with your arms wrapped protectively around the cushion, like Arthur used to do before picking up.

“Hey,” the man greeted you lightly, “do you have some time? I was hoping to ask you a few questions, could be over the phone if you’re in a hurry.”

“Sure thing,” you agreed promptly, “I’m between breaks now, but I can talk. What’s the matter?”

“It’s about the patient you’ve referred me to, some…,” he paused for a moment, as if reading a file, “Arthur Morgan, I believe.”

Your throat tightened and you felt the cold pinpricks of needles at the back of your neck. “Yes, Arthur. What do you need to know, then?”

“I was just wondering if he had the habit of skipping sessions,” your heart dropped at it, “it’s been a month now and he hasn’t showed up for about… six sessions I think, with the reschedules of course.”

“He never skipped with me,” you said in a levelled voice, devoid of any emotion, “maybe he’s having a hard time readjusting with the change?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I called the referral contact, his father I believe? Hosea Matthews?”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Matthews,” you agreed.

“Well, I called and he said he couldn’t convince Arthur to finish the remaining time in therapy. The patient seems reluctant, apparently, he says that he doesn’t need it anymore and I grew worried because according to the information you passed me along—“

Your mind zoomed out, the words falling on deafened ears. Fuck.

What would be of Arthur now, with an incomplete treatment? What if you had left him scarred for life, breaking his trust like that, without so much as a warning? Your stomach twisted painfully at the memory of the kiss, the growing anxiety creeping around you and seeping into your bones.

All because you were too scared to access your feelings, choosing to play on the safer side and pushing him away. There were ways to make it work, you knew — loopholes and technicalities —, but you clamped up at the prospect of letting him get any closer. You felt your eyes burn with the warmth of unshed tears, reaching for the tissue paper to keep your emotions from ruining the light makeup of the day.

Someone calling your name snapped you out of your haze.

“Are you still there?,” your colleague asked, as if expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I kinda spaced out here,” you said, fighting against the waver in your voice, “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“I asked if you could come in contact with the patient or his referral, just to be sure. I don’t think they trust me enough to handle it.”

“Sure,” you muttered out with a dry mouth, “I’ll try to reach him, do you want me to get back to you—“

“With all due honesty,” your colleague spoke softly, making you want to cry even more. Had he heard the silent despair in your voice? “I do believe that you should figure out what you really want before anything else.

Silence stretched for a few seconds before you recovered. “I don’t know—“

“I won’t tell,” he said gently, “I can vouch for that.”

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to gather there. It wasn’t unknown to most of your profession colleagues about the nasty breakout with your ex-husband and your self-induced behavior of isolation. You took a deep breath before speaking again. “Thank you.”

You parked the car in front of an apartment complex, in a nice little residential neighborhood. The building was somewhat stocky, with only eight floors, with white and dark blue tiling. Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you started to fidget anxiously.

You had rushed to your desk, fingers running through patient files until you found Arthur’s — complete with contact, address and etc. With a resolute sort of conviction, you set out, asking your front desk attendant to reschedule any appointments you were to have later that day. Tucking the file below your arm, you took the car and set the GPS to the address.

Now, standing at the final destination, according to your cellphone, you looked up at the building. Coming closer to the intercom, you searched for the right name, reading the freshly scribbled “Morgan” in pen and paper, in contrast to the others, which were clean slates.

“Okay,” you pressed the button, listening to the telltale buzz of the call being ensued, “right.”

It rung until it didn’t anymore, your anxiety growing by the minute. With some sense of impatience, you pressed the button again and the faint sound started once more. You pressed your hands together, shivering at the cool wind blowing through the street. The afternoon was clear, but you had forgotten to grab your coat on your way out of the clinic and the autumn chill was exerting its power.

“Who’s it?,” came Arthur’s annoyed voice from the intercom, sounding annoyed. “Ain’t got no time—“

“Arthur,” you said his name gently and he quieted down. It was uncomfortable, you had to admit. “Arthur, I need to—“

“What do you want?,” he muttered out, sounding defensive.

“Can you buzz me in, please?,” you asked with a tight knot in your throat, “I need to see you.”

You heard him huff from the other side of the line, unbelieving. “Do ya, now?”

“I know,” you acquiesced, feeling your desperation growing by the minute, “I know, but we need to talk, please?”

He stayed quiet for a while, your heart pounding in your chest at his silence. “I’m not… sure if I want to see you, doc.”

“Arthur,” you pleaded, “I’m not here as your therapist, that’s not who I am,” your voice wavered as you pressed your hand to your lips to keep check of your own emotions. You had missed his voice so much. “I’m here as your friend, please.”

Arthur sighed and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He seemed unwilling to say anything else.

“I just need to see you,” you whispered to the intercom, voice cracking at the emotion of everything, “I just— please, Arthur,” you breathed out shakily, “please.“ The gate buzzed and you startled, before pushing it open hesitantly. Your hands felt clammy despite the cold.

Gathering the little courage you had left, you walked into the building with a growing sense of dread, your heart fluttering in your chest like a caged bird. Did he really want to see you now? Arthur wouldn’t have let you in, if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t. You felt as if your legs might give out.

There were some people walking about the hall, some chatting casually at the common area, but no one paid much mind to your presence. Fidgeting with the sleeve of your blouse as you walked towards the elevator, you turned your gaze down to your phone where the number to Arthur’s apartment appeared in the notepad — 302. Swallowing down your anxiety, you pressed the number three and watched as the doors closed.

You weren’t sure what to say to Arthur. Should you confess? Was that too cliché? You should tell him the truth, though. That’s what he deserved, after wall, the reason why you had come all this way. The elevator was taking a long way up, thankfully, and you were left to your own thoughts.

No way in hell you were ready for what was to come. There was nothing about it in the books back when you studied — and even if there were, you’d have brushed it off as some hypothetical situation that could never happen to you because you were too disciplined. A pretty little tale spun for those who were romantic at heart, but not you. You knew how to behave, or at least thought you did.

It hurt your head to think.

The elevator came to a stuttering halt, the doors hissing as it opened and you stepped out into the equally well-lit hall.

“Three o’ two…,” you muttered, rubbing your hands together as your head turned from one side to another, squinting slightly and moving towards it once you located the door.

You stood there, for maybe a few seconds, before knocking gently at the door; once, twice. There was silence from the inside, but soon enough you heard it unlock and Arthur appeared in front of you, worse than you had ever seen him. There were dark bags under his eyes, a day or two beard sprouting on his face with a greasy mess of curls on top of that. He looked tired, in a simple grey tee and some sweatpants in the middle of the summer. Far too tired. Had he just woken up?

With a tight press of your lips, you felt your eyes watering. Had you done this to him? “Arthur,” you choked out his name, raising both your hands to the lower half of your face, “I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the surprise in his demeanor before sighing tiredly and averting his gaze to the floor. “You never told me anythin’…”

“I know,” you cut in with a teary voice, wiping away the stubborn tears that insisted on streaking down your cheeks, “I just didn’t know what do when you— when we… I got scared that you—“

The man reached out, one calloused hand curling around your forearm in a gentle motion as you allowed yourself to be drawn in by his presence, warm and solid. Arthur made a noise at the back of his throat, something choked with emotion, when you threw yourself into his embrace, clutching to his tee with all the might you could muster up. “I was so scared, I thought it was my fault—“

Arthur shook his head slightly, staggering out a shaky breath himself. “’s okay, doc…”

“Please,” you hugged him tighter and you still could smell the sandalwood cologne on his skin, subtle but definitely there, “I never meant to…,” you trailed off, shaking your head, “I like you, Arthur. More than I probably should, but…”

“I want you to stay,” Arthur whispered suddenly and you were highly aware of your own lack of words after it. He circled your waist, fingers digging gently into your back as he took a steadying breath. “I need to know, I need to know if I can love you, so please— I don’t wanna do this if you’re not… I gotta know if you’ll stay with me. I need to.”

You pulled back from him, eyes watering and searching into his teal colored ones and this time you allowed yourself to take in just how handsome Arthur really was, as your hands cupped the sculpted marble of his face. He shuddered at it, closing his eyes and leaning forwards to press his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh of someone who’d been denied for far too long.

“Let me kiss you again,” Arthur pleaded in a whisper, calmly and too benevolent for you not make a sweet sound at the back of your throat, “please.”

You closed your eyes, taking a steadying hold of his neck. “Next time,” you whispered back, thumb caressing the sensitive skin under his eye, gently wiping away the dampness that had gathered there, “you don’t have to ask.”

He took a gentle hold of your hand, pressing his chapped lips to your palm like a caress, his demeanor sweet and reverent; and with a twinge, you realized that Arthur was far too good for his own good. “I want you to stay,” he said again, moving on to your forehead and pressing another kiss there. You shivered, tilting your face to allow him better access. “Wanna be with you,” a press of lips to the space between your eyes, “make yer happy.”

At this, you hummed lightly, breathing out shakily. Arthur cupped your face, bringing you closer to him, if that was even possible. His lips caressed your cheek and the subtle curve of your jawline before finally pressing to your own. When it came, the kiss was sweet, so frail and light you could almost believe it wasn’t happening, even if the pressure of Arthur’s hand on the base of your neck was enough proof to you. He muttered your name, trying to pull you more closely against his body, and you gave in with a sigh.

There was a shy prod of tongue against your lips and you complied promptly because oh, it just felt so right — the moment, with him, right then and there. The voice at the back of your mind quieted down immediately, its last murmurs of protests dying out in face of Arthur sweet humming. He pulled you backwards with him, into his apartment, and you pushed the door closed before he could press your back to it with a desperate little gasp.

“Stay with me,” Arthur whispered and God, consequences be damned, you wanted to. His nose brushed against yours, so intimately you could swear you were dreaming, “don’t go.”

You answered by pushing back the soft tresses of his hair, pulling away and making Arthur close his eyes with a soft complaint at the back of his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.” His breathing quickened as he pressed his head to the crook of your neck and you were somewhat amused, fond of the sweetness of the act. “I’ll stay here.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan #patient!arthur x therapist!reader #they finally got around #wohoo #red dead redemption #red dead redemption imagines

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dogcopter · 5 years ago

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Rose is Lion Liveblog episode 45: Rose’s Scabbard Part One (long)

Rose is Liveblog 2020 Masterlist

(recap/summary: I’m liveblogging every Lion appearance in SU in order to emphasize that he is obviously the heinous, beautiful Rose Quartz in disguise. This episode in particular is a smoking gun like Escapism)

Lion takes center stage opposite Pearl in Rose’s Scabbard. Steven learns a bit about him, and about Rose. This episode, Lion’s revelatory behavior towards Pearl stands out.

Lion looks unhappy to be here. He is unhappy because he is Rose Quartz, and has thousands of years of regrets.

Pearl suggests Steven rob a grave and also that he get Lion obedience training. Lion appears to follow a magic butterfly through the strawberry patch.

Steven says “We’re making progress. Now he looks at me when I say his name!” and calls to Lion, who ignores him.

Lion digs up Rose’s Scabbard.

Pearl’s jaw drops.

“That’s the scabbard to Rose’s sword!”

She tries to yank it from Lion’s mouth. He’s annoyed, because it was for Steven, not her.

Lore concept: In this episode, it’s made clear that Lion knows Pearl, likes her, and cares about her to some extent. These things are true of Rose Quartz, but new to Lion’s characterization.

Lion resists at first, but is defeated. Pearl shoos him away.

One of Lion’s most consistent traits thus far is not giving a shit about what anyone around him is doing, but this episode, he’s attentive to Pearl. Why’s he making eye contact with Pearl and reacting personally? IMO that is super obviously Rose Quartz.

Look at this exchange. Lion often has ambiguous expressions, but that looks like a smile. Lol.

Although he “spoke” to Steven in Lion and Lion 2, at this point in the series he has only recently shown real affection toward Steven, in Lion 3. There’s also a whole running gag in almost all of his appearances that he doesn’t care what Steven wants or cares about because he’s a cat. He’s hardly ever attentive to Steven’s requests, with the exception of Rose lore.

Amethyst hugged him once onscreen, in Ocean Gem, and he and Pearl watched Steven sleep and she spoke at him once. The only other character he’s interacted with at any length onscreen is Connie, and they will become close later in the series because Rose Quartz loves Imagination and Connie is an MG fantasy protagonist. At this point, Connie and Lion had a couple of moments: his interest in her in Lion 2 and cooperating to rescue Steven in Ocean Gem. But aside from how he acted in Lion 2 he really hasn’t been social like this.

Lion snorts in Pearl’s face when she shoos him, annoying her.

“Mom fought here?” “That’s right! And I fought alongside her.” (said while alongside Lion)

A teary-eyed Pearl recounts the glory of Rose Quartz.

Garnet tries to keep it real, but Pearl at this point in the series is still coping via Rose Quartz fanfiction, which has been her coping mechanism ever since a clown dressed up as her hot OC 6,000 years ago, so naturally, she associates telling epic RQ stories with inspiring her charge (Steven) in an effort to fill the void...

Anyway she says “Here we made our stand against our Homeworld!” and a half-truth, “We won!” Winning meaning the Earth not being colonized I suppose.

We don’t get to see Lion’s reaction to this. Probably as he is Rose Quartz he is thinking things like, “At one point listening to a Rose Quartz story GMH but now the lies are too bitter” or “this is almost definitely where I betrayed my best friend and biggest fan, the #1 Crystal Gem, Bismuth. I am a bad person” or maybe “It sucks that approx. 5,300 years ago all these people believed in the cause and now they’re digimons in bubbles in the basement and I feel personally responsible” or maybe just “It’s sad to see Pearl like this.” there are layers. Or maybe he feels nothing at all because Rose is still working on empathy! It’s probably a mix of different things.

Steven is dazzled, ofc, which is what matters.

Next part of the ep lacks Lion but recap: Pearl wants to show Steven a SECRET SECRET Rose place, secret even to Amethyst and Garnet! They travel on foot and she carries him up a cliff without a belay. Steven has already been there via Lion, which breaks Pearl’s fragile hard-light projection heart in two. Then he smashes it to bits under his heel by knowing where Rose’s long-lost sword is.

Reiterating: Lion knew about the cave because he is Rose Quartz. This was a very secret home base for Pearl and Rose’s eyes only.

Arguably, sure, Rose could have traveled around the world with Lion showing him places, especially places she’d rather forget, but Lion being Rose just fits better when you consider both information (lore) and behavior (personality).

Steven Universe Future relevant characterization meta sidenote: This LB is about Lion, but by extension it’s also about Rose and Steven. Here’s another formative moment: Steven is really excited to show Pearl he knows where Rose’s sword is. This is an occasion where Steven is trying to be helpful, but everything goes poorly and he thinks it’s his fault. Pearl was overjoyed to bring him to a dangerous place full of secrets, both canonically core elements of Steven’s desire for bonding activities with the gems (For example, Secret Team, Serious Steven). He also loves learning more about his mom and yearns for lore on her (Story for Steven, Lion 3).

Steven’s dream came true today, he got a dangerous adventure and a bonding moment where he also learns about his mom. He doesn’t realize the glorious war stories are lies/coping mechanisms, he’s still a hundred episodes away from learning the terrible truth about Pink Diamond, and he has not a single clue this will upset Pearl or how badly. He’s just trying to show her something cool like she did for him. She falls apart and then he spends the rest of the episode “picking up the pieces”.

Pearl: “Rose’s sword. How did it get in there?”

(Lion: Oh boy.) Steven: “I don’t know! But there’s a ton of stuff in there!”

Steven: “I keep stuff in him, too.” (Lion: STEVEN DON’T TELL HER THAT)

Lion’s face is doing this as Steven says this because he’s Rose Quartz. He just realized Steven might tell the Crystal Gems that Bismuth has unjustly imprisoned for over five millennia, or bring out that chest, and is bracing for impact. The childhood traumatized Rose Quartz has never been ready to face people.

Luckily Steven is an adorable fool.

Pearl: “But how?”

Lion, who was downright chummy with Pearl earlier, doesn’t want her messing with the mane.

After all, Lion isn’t just a secret Rose kept from Pearl. He’s like a series of secrets within secrets Rose kept from Pearl. And he’s Rose, actively keeping herself secret from Pearl. And that is kind of a bummer.

See, he makes so much eye contact with her this ep. He’s not acting like he did in others; he’s probably spent more time onscreen caring about Pearl than about Steven at the moment.

I’m so proud of Pearl for her growth and that she was able to talk secrets eventually, this was a rough period for her.

This is Pearl’s face as she realizes that Rose had secrets even from her, even though she is also a container of Rose’s secrets. (Episode title drop) “But Rose didn’t have a lion.” “It seems like her stuff in there.”

Note that we don’t see Lion’s face again for this part. I wonder if when we get the reveal, we’ll see a new side of some of these past scenes where Lion’s back is to us.

“Rose didn’t have a lion! Because if Rose had a lion, I would have known about it.”

“Rose kept many things secret. Even from us.”

Pearl is teary-eyed again, this time actually in tears. “But not from me! I was the one she told everything!”

This is untrue. Bismuth is right there, and as recently as Volleyball, Pearl was learning new things Rose never told her. But the secret Pearl had to keep for Rose, the secret of her identity and Pink Diamond’s shattering, is so significant that the alternative is unthinkable because it changes Pearl’s self-image as much as her image of Rose. Even though at the time (and probably still, certainly at the time of this episode) doing that was her proudest moment and with the intent to break free of the system once and for all, both the trauma of what followed and of Rose’s decision to refuse Pearl the ability to speak of it had completely shaped her life from that point forward.

Not to belabor the point but Rose as Lion in this scene is witnessing the effects of what she did and of losing her on Pearl, like how he was present for the gems responding to Steven’s “death” in So Many Birthdays, or the events of “Cry For Help”.

“Yo, you’re not the only one who misses her!” We glimpse some of what Amethyst is struggling with - and details on Amethyst and Rose’s relationship are few and far between. Garnet showing genuine surprise, too. Possibly she is future visioning that Pearl is about to knock down Rose’s portrait.

Remember Lion is sitting there seeing all this. So is Steven, who just wanted to surprise and delight Pearl with the sword.

“You can’t understand how I feel! None of you had what we had!”

This one really is true, but Steven won’t learn how true until the events of Now We’re Only Falling Apart. Still no visible reaction from Lion, but he does appear to be listening attentively.

Steven echoes Pearl’s own line from earlier in an attempt to reassure her like she reassured him. Great leaders have to keep secrets to protect people! “She probably just wanted to protect you, like everybody else.”

“What do you know?” Pearl’s hurtful words cut Steven, who is only trying to help.

”You’ve never even met her!”

Now we see Lion looking at Pearl with everyone else. Steven has taken a step back in fear.

The portrait begins to fall from the wall,

Garnet activates Sapphire speed and catches it. Lion’s back is to us once again, as is the portrait’s.

Pearl glances at Steven’s face again, looking strung out on grief and presumably fresh guilt for what she just said,

And takes off. Amethyst says, “Fine! Go cry about it!” Steven says, “Where did she go?” and Amethyst replies, “Who cares? I hate it when she gets like this.” This isn’t the first time Pearl has been upset like this since losing Rose. These are their reactions to that.

Amethyst frustrated, maybe because Rose was the most important relationship in her life too, and Pearl’s words about being the most important devalue that. Garnet is carrying on putting the portrait away.

“Garnet?”

Garnet doesn’t answer him. She probably doesn’t know what to say. This has been the family dynamic since at least losing Rose.

Steven pushes down his own hurt feelings. Asks about Pearl instead. “Is she okay?” Garnet still doesn’t respond. This kid needs a parent to rely on!

“Well, I’m gonna go find her.”

“Do you know where she went?”

The heartbreaker Rose Quartz growls an affirmative. Unlike Garnet and Amethyst, who are exhausted by the cycle of grief they’ve been trapped in since Rose gave up her physical form & who’ve probably given up trying to talk to Pearl when she won’t (or can’t) talk to them if they tried in the first place, Lion and Steven want to chase after Pearl and do something.

Lore: Lion knows where Pearl is (The battlefield) because he is Rose Quartz.

Rose knows where Pearl would go to be upset about this (Rose, the sword, lies). Just like the armory was a place known only to Pearl and Rose, the floating island Pearl is about to leave Steven to is an unmarked location with special significance to Pearl and Rose.

Sure, we were just there and they found the sword, as the audience we need a setting established before we can return to it and it bookends the episode – but Pearl’s first line introducing the setting in the episode is:

“This was a site of a historic battle. Every weapon here was left by a gem over 5,000 years ago. I don’t like to disturb it, but Garnet said we can’t just leave these lying around.”

She describes that it was an important place because of the battle that happened there, but a place that lay mostly undisturbed for over 5,000 years, and Pearl makes it sound like she’s rarely visited since. No personal connection or feelings, really, aside from respect for the dead. It paints a very different picture from the one she projects for Steven in just a few minutes.

“Let’s go find Pearl!” Pearl left via warp pad, but Lion and Steven take a lion warp. Lion was present to hear the war stories at the beginning.

Pearl was excited by the scabbard, but Lion would only have reason to assume she’d return there and agree to follow her with Steven if a) he actually cares about her and b) he knows something about her we don’t. Another Lion behavior detail that is odd if just Lion, makes perfect sense if Rose.

Rose’s Scabbard Part 2

#rose is liveblog 2020 #rose is lion 2020 #steven universe #i wont put others in the public tag but when i finish each season ill do a list #This might be my favorite episode of Steven Universe.#There are a lot of strong contenders #but as a Rose is obviously Lion conspiracy theorist this one is especially beautiful and tragic.

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