#i guess what i want is an unhealthy coping mechanism that's legal

[resonabilis-echo]

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[wherenymphsroam]

don’t say it’s unholy, if I let you come hold me (pt 1)

⟡ -- leon finds you drowning your grief in the back of a bar just outside of town. but don't worry, he won't blow your cover.

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: themes of coping with grief and depression, implied underage drinking and unhealthy coping mechanisms, vendetta leon, leon is just a wee bit morally grey here just due to the point in his life this is staged during, no sex but explicit language, leon is readers dad's coworker/friend, angst - eventual sex

a/n: okay, I've been sitting on this baby for a hot minute just because of how self indulgent it is iaqhdsiuwsjih. I wanted to make this longer before I released it, but I think I'm going to just continue this in parts (and even then, don't hold me to that lol judgwiuhd !!). again, please heed warnings, and if you are uncomfortable with any themes presented, please just don't read!

playlist: unholy (hey violet), disconnect (she wants revenge), discipline (nine inch nails), paralyzer (finger eleven)

You shouldn’t be here.

By all legal and ethical means, morality aside, you should be at the library, studying for a final you know damn well you won’t be passing. Or better yet, at home. Maybe poured over a mug of tea, that blend your mom has made you since you were a kid. Some shitty romcom playing in the background, ignored as you doze off surrounded by papers, scattered around the dining table like any other honorable, dutiful college student. Not some… dingy, shithole bar outside the parameters of your hometown.

(One you know your dad doesn’t frequent with colleagues. One you know is just outside the radius of people that would see you here, know you enough to know you shouldn’t be here.)

Maybe you would be back home right now, studying until you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, if not for what happened. The “would’ve” “could’ve” and “should’ve”s are stacked high in your brain, like a mountain of now unattainable possibilities laid bare, slain by the events of recent nights. Something so chilling, so bone shattering and brain dissolving you just can’t manage to wrap your head around it. 

‘Shock’, right? 

That was the operative term for the numbness that has recently buzzed dully in your limbs, the heaviness of your own weight whenever you roll out of bed every day. The term itself is thrown around so flippantly, so easily outside the walls of a hospital, a clinic. General medical common knowledge be damned, everyone knows what shock is.

'Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. Generations passed down worth of indoctrination gone moot by one, unholy union. It’s coming home and finding your husband in bed with another woman, that blonde bitch at his front desk. The one he told you not to worry about? Yeah, that one. 

It’s the unspeakable, the unimaginable striking. It’s blinding, horrid in how it leaves you.. Empty. You’re compelled to apologize for its effects on your nervous system.

Sorry guys, I promise I’m sad. I know I don’t look it, I’m taking it out on all this- shit lying around. I’ve been meaning to throw this out for ages you know. Guess I finally have a reason now, huh? No, I don’t know how much sleep I’ve gotten the past week, it’s probably fine. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. That’ll make me feel worse. Now, if you would, let me go finish my manic episode in peace, will you-?

Could you blame this too as to why you finally dug out that fake ID your friends coerced you into agreeing to?

This wasn’t like you, not one bit. I mean, really, sitting in the back of some gnarly bar, surrounded with the sorts of people Daddy always warned you about? The sorts of people that only came out after dark, that hung around till dawn when they would then go back to dwell in whatever crevice of the city they called home until dusk? Maybe this was moms genes catching up with you – the predisposed ones you always knew would come to bite you in the ass. Maybe you should go check your eyes, don’t people's pupils dilate when they’re manic? “Crazy eyes'' those people on Tiktok would call them, right? 

“Unwidin’, huh?”

His voice calls through the air between you like he might’ve well been standing yards away. It takes you a moment longer than maybe appropriate to track his distance, his place at your side at the bartop. Glancing over, you first get a look at his hand, gesturing to the drink in front of you, the cigarette dangling between your fingers. The one that was currently beginning to slip in your weakened grip, speaking of. 

They’re long, nimble. Broad hands, worn at the tips, smooth along the meat of his palms. Even under the hazy atmosphere surrounding you, you can make out the glint of the watch up his sleeve – probably expensive, if the quality of the leather of his jacket sleeve has anything to say about it. Look at you. Even buzzed like this, you were spotting the finer details. A daddy’s girl with daddy’s tolerance.

Despite yourself, you nod numbly, head heavy on the bracket of your neck. A sign directly arguing with the idea of your tolerance – or rather, lack thereof – but it can't be as noticeable as your brain is attempting to trick you into believing, right?

Leon settles into the stool next to you, and you don’t so much as cast him a proper glance. Maybe that’s why he finds himself sitting down. You looked out of place, like a damn kicked puppy with your head drowning in a few shots worth in the back of this bar. It was a wonder no one else had approached you up till this point, especially given the time of night. It was hard not to feel like your guardian angel. 

“We both know this ain’t the healthiest way to do it.” He says as he flags the bartender down.

Touche, mystery man. 

Well, alright. Technically you knew the guy. You vaguely recognized him as one of Dad’s colleagues through the haze of your buzz. It was too sweet to interrupt, you find yourself completely unfazed in the face of the inevitable consequences that would come from your fathers colleague finding you here.

If anything, you couldn’t complain.

His voice was nice. Beyond “nice” actually. If you were any more wasted, you’d take him for a certain type of actor. More specifically, the ones you listen to late at night. The ones that speak to you behind pseudonyms and expensive microphones, nestled into crevices of the internet any mentally stable person wouldn’t dream of wandering into.  

You know better than to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds, even despite the dregs of nicotine floating through your blood coaxing you towards such a mental image. 

Finally, you brave a glance over your shoulder at him. He’s pretty. Real pretty. How are you only just noticing how sharp his eyes are? They look darker under this bar's lighting, that typically professional, almost playful glint in his gaze nowhere to be found. It had been a few years since you’d last seen him… maybe it was age finally starting to jade him.

Not that you knew the specifics. He was easily older than you by a decade and some change. And clearly all too happy to bypass all niceties in this situation. Damn. Did you look that bad? He was pretty enough to be an angel, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he had a better head sitting on his shoulders than a better half of the people in here. 

A huff of soft breath leaves through your nose, tendrils of smoke swirling out of your system with the action. Shaking your head, you dip it, taking another long drag from your quickly burning cigarette, an excuse to try and string together some sort of response that won’t make an ass out of you. Or actually, anything that didn’t scream “you’re hot and I don’t know how to conduct myself around good natured, attractive men” would do just fine. Those damn eyes of his… it was a mistake, letting your gazes lock. His eyes alone were enough to make your stomach flip. 

“Well,” you mutter, not daring to look back at him. “This is better than my plan b for the night.” 

You don’t so much as flinch when the bartender comes over, taking an order he murmurs in a tone you want spoken against the shell of your ear from behind. Your periphery catches the actions of the bartender pouring his order into a short glass, bronze in color.

Whiskey. Of course.

Reaching for the middle of the table, you stub your cigarette in a conveniently placed ashtray. Sure, you were a little fucked up in a way you’ve never been before tonight, but you had manners. 

Meanwhile, Leon is doing what he does best. Observing. He tries his best not to make it obvious how he watches your hand wobbles when you lift it. He watched the subtle change in your expression when he called to you, how your head bobbed when he sat down. Anyone else would be paying attention to how quickly you recoiled with the action, as if self conscious of your dragged reaction time. However, he had spotted the tension in your slouched shoulders. A reaction rooted in self preservation, a fear of judgment. It was enough to tell him just how many shots you probably had in your system. 

He was no stranger to girls like you, ‘situations’ such as the one he was currently sitting next to.

It was a familiar, cliche dance – the unspoken, drowning struggles of a near stranger on display, insecurities risen to the surface like hemorrhaged blood under thinned skin. It was written all over you. You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strife to his blind eye, painting you transparent. He could see right through you. You were running from something. Likely attempting to drown, bury it somewhere deep if not for just a night or so. 

“‘Plan B’?” he questions, tone calm, even almost lighthearted. It betrays his sharp gaze, perceptive and on guard as ever. As if he were approaching an injured doe in the wild. Not that he’s done much hunting lately. He’s found that meat off the streets bleeds more freely than the skin of doe’s and rabbits does in present times. 

A wry smile tugs at your lips, almost as if you figured he’d press the topic. It was already too much to ask that he didn’t mention your connection to his coworker, how Leon knew you were definitely not supposed to be somewhere like this, and he had managed to uphold that silent prayer.

Maybe your otherwise handicapped condition was blurring whatever lines that stood between you right now, the lines that constructed what he should be doing, finding you here without a legitimate ID.  He should be outing you to the bartender, dragging you out of this place by the scruff of your neck with your dad dialed into his phone.

He shouldn’t be… entertaining you, right? Could you go so far as to call his complacent presence.. Encouragement?

Taking a seat beside you, joining you in your mission to drown your ache, your pain. Keeping you calm under his gaze, as if a sedative rolled off him in gentle waves. His throat bobs around his sip of whiskey, and you can’t help how your gaze lingers on the action. 

“Plan B consisted of finding someone to fuck me into next week,” you mutter dryly, as if the admission of your half hearted ‘plans’ for tonight left a sour taste in even your mouth. It wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t what you did. For fucks sake, you weren’t even supposed to have gotten this far, knee deep in an actively self destructive decision. But life sure did have one hell of a way of knocking you one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction, didn’t it?

No. That’s an excuse. A shitty one, at that. It's an excuse you've heard your dad mutter under his breath when he slouches into the couch with a beer in hand.

This is a poor choice, and you knew this was a poor choice. And yet, that didn’t stop you from walking your happy ass into this bar, nose up and full of talked up confidence you poured into yourself in the parking lot. No amount of tugging and pulling and pleading your guilty conscience did on your brain would stop you, not this time. You knew that getting into an Uber to haul you outside the lines of town would seal your fate to the whims of this bar. How classy. 

If Leon was a worse man, he’d take your words at face value. (Or maybe he’s just damned with all that thorough training he’s been rung through. It’s practically impossible not to read people nowadays. Even alcohol has ceased to debilitate him of this begrudgingly equipped set of skills that was all but pummeled into him.) 

His gaze wavers. Flickers, almost with a wash of amusement for a moment. You were trying oh so hard, taking that clipped, short tone with him, all but puffing your chest with this aura of  mental toughness you likely wanted to think you had. It was cute, really. But oh, the lacing of desperation in your tone... The sweet vulnerability in your breath… every hairline fracture your already cracking front is bleeding. 

He doesn’t have to be a bloodhound to want to dig for more. He just can’t help himself. 

thank you for reading! I have emergency commissions open, so if you enjoyed this piece, please consider taking a look at my menu or rb’ing :^)

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, Ralph. (I think I covered all my time zone bases there). I have been thinking lot lately about all the rhetoric in the fandom about Harry’s health and well-being, and how loud it has felt this year. To be clear, I am not asking for you to weigh in with your own speculations about how Harry is doing, unless you feel comfortable doing so. (I’m not telling you what to do either way, obviously, seeing as I am only a little grey icon in your inbox and have no right or way to demand anything of you.) I’m more looking for guidance or even just your rambling thoughts about what is respectful and appropriate when we’re wondering about a celebrity’s well being, and how you handle your own thoughts and assumptions about this. I feel like over the course of the last year we’ve just been inundated with all this panic and speculation about how Harry is unhappy or unhealthy or otherwise not himself, going all the way back to the Jingle Bell Ball Golden performance. Every time we get any new content there’s a wave of people saying he looks too thin and overworked like he’s not getting enough food or rest, or overweight and out of shape (pick a lane, people), he looks stressed, he looks sad, he looks angry, his eyes have lost their sparkle, his smile is dim, he’s addicted to drugs, he’d addicted to drugs because Jeff is doping him up to keep him going, he’s going to quit music, he’s going to hurt himself, blah blah blah. And the people making these “observations” hide behind the assertion that they’re just worried for his health when they’re faced with any sort of criticism.

This whole ongoing rhetoric feels really…icky? I suppose? to me. I do kind of think he has looked more drawn and intense (“stressed” and “sad”) in the content we’ve gotten this year, but I also think (1) the content we’ve gotten has largely been pap shots and stunt stuff, (2) this year he had to postpone his tour, and we know he loves performing so that must have really sucked, and (3) this year has just been rather shit for all of us, we’re all stressed and sad and scared and frustrated by the larger political and social goings on, and by the ways our own lives are impacted. In the past, the content we’ve gotten where Harry looks the happiest and most at ease has been performance footage or him with his family and loved ones. We haven’t gotten any of that this year. It makes sense that the pictures we do get would feature him looking less than completely relaxed and jubilant. And then there are all the assumptions that he’s lost weight or gained weight and is therefore unhealthy or on drugs or drinking a lot and that just honestly pisses me off. You cannot tell jack shit about a person’s health from their weight, and especially not in random pictures taken at random intervals in random settings. To pretend you can is harmful, and Harry probably won’t see you making these assumptions about his mental and physical health based on the prominence of his cheekbones in a set of pap pics, but friends and strangers who are already struggling with their weight will. And the assertion that someone is dealing with an addiction of any kind (or, god forbid, and I hate even typing this, being subjected to drug use at the hands of someone with power over them) is an allegation that a) you can’t make from one picture and b) has really deep, life altering, tragic and painful and hard consequences for that person and all their loved ones, and deserves more respect and deference than to be treated as something you can just throw out into the great wild beyond and then forget about.

But beyond the fact that people are making hurtful and invasive allegations and assumptions about a real person’s private life based entirely on a very very limited and posed and edited set of content that was hand chosen to be given to us, I think the thing that bothers me the most is it feels like the people who are driving these conversations are doing so because they want something from Harry. It’s never (or rarely, I suppose) “man Harry looks tired in the pictures we’ve gotten lately, I really hope he’s taking care of himself, things have been so hard for us all.” It’s always “Harry has been so withdrawn and sad and angry he’s not communicative with fans and he’s not willing to engage with them when he sees them in public and I miss him. I miss my Harry. I miss happy Harry. I want him back. Give me Harry back.” Which tells me the concern isn’t Harry or Harry’s health, but rather the feeling that Harry owes us something that he hasn’t been giving, and now he must pay up or give us a valid excuse.

Then I do, occasionally though, find myself thinking “am I doing exactly what I’m complaining about? Am I assuming the worst of people based on a limited set of insights into their lives?” And in the wake of the Britney legal battle that has been unfolding recently, I sometimes wonder if maybe as fans we do have kind of a duty to call out celebrities when they seem to be struggling or acting incredibly out of character. Most of the time I follow this up immediately with the thought that I’m not responsible for anyone else’s health and safety, much less that of a 27 year old man I’ve never met and have no connection to beyond liking his music and his face, and I do truly believe that, but there is some part of me that feels uneasy just turning off all my concern, because I am a person who tends to be greatly concerned about everyone, who just wants everyone to be happy and healthy and safe and loved, and who wants to help people feel that way, where and when I can. So I guess what I’m asking, in the incredibly long winded and winding way I ask anyone anything (my poor husband, he gets a novel from me every time I ask what he thinks we should do for dinner) is do you have any of these same feelings and concerns? How do your navigate them? Where do you draw a line? Do you just withdraw completely from this type of speculation? How do you balance being a kind, engaged, empathetic fan with being a respectful, responsible fan who knows their limits? (And man, isn’t that the ultimate question?). Your blog is one I end up on whenever something big happens or a particular conversation pops up, because I’ve found that I really value the way you break things down and are willing to consider them from many perspectives, so I appreciate you even taking the time to read this.

Thanks for your interesting thoughts about Harry anon. I feel like there's a lot to respond to here and I'm going to start by answering the questions your questions - and then I'm going to get distracted and talk about a post I really hated.

I'm always a little bit worried about Harry, and all 1D members. He might be really struggling, that's always a possibility. Harry has lived a very intensely scheduled high workload life since he was 16. He might have had all sorts of responses to the fact that that schedule was removed, or anything else that is happening in his life. But I feel like I'm generally pretty boundaried about those concerns.

I think part of it is because my base line assumption is that boyband members are pretty fucked up. You don't need to know a lot about the history of touring musicians to know that. I think I've said before that if 1D members are eating every day and not doing needle drugs then they're doing better than we have any right to expect (and if they're not eating and are doing needle drugs, then those are coping mechanisms for intense stress and there's no shame in either of them).

I do think it helps with boundaries to be starting from a point that acknowledges how hard it is to be a popstar. I'm all about fantasies of omnipotence and in my day to day life I think I can fix all sorts of things, but I don't think I can make any difference to any 1D member's life.

In addition, I am profoundly affected by having been a fan throughout 2016. We know what it looks like when Louis was going through a horrendous, devastating, trauma - and it looks pretty normal.

None of this means I don't have opinions, or worries, but I am aware that my opinions or worries aren't facts. It's rare that I think that my worries should matter even to people reading my tumblr, let alone other fans in general, and certainly not Harry. You say 'am I doing the same thing as other people assuming the worst about people...', but I'd argue that that's actually not the problem. There's nothing wrong with assuming the worst of people. What is wrong is when fans think their assumptions about a celebrity should matter to anyone else. You don't have to turn off your concern to think that it's not a priority.

I definitely think it would be a very bad thing if people took the moral as the 'free Britney' movement as 'fans should call out celebrities when they think they're struggling'. That sort of surveillance isn't effective or useful. What has been useful for Britney is solidarity in a well documented power struggle, which is a very different thing.

And I can't emphasise enough how important the 'well documented' aspect of this is. What most fan worrying about Harry amounts to is: 'I don't like what he's doing, and there's no way he'd do things I didn't like and therefore there must be something wrong with him'. That's a really controlling way of thinking about people. I really think it's important not to reproduce that abusers logic.

I am pretty well insulated from that sort of discourse from a very well weeded dash. But I saw a post that was mostly about other fandom stuff, that treated assumptions like: "Harry must hate being with Olivia and he's suffering and it's clear he's not happy with his image and his team" as building blocks that you don't even have to argue for (this is the post - and I'm going to come back to one of the things someone said that was even worse in a second).

Lets stop for a minute and imagine that Harry hasn't got a problem pretending to date Olivia, and his main concerns are about the messiness of life and his career at this point in time. It is really fucked up and agressive, and pretty hateful towards Harry, to say 'oh he couldn't possibly want this. It's clear that he hates it.' etc. (I feel like I've been making this argument for years about people who object to Louis doing such things as smoking and not performing middle-class culture for them). When fans trash talk what Harry is doing at the moment, and suggest that believing he could be choosing what he's doing is some how an act of huge disrespect to him, there is every chance they are trash talking him and the choices he's making.

The final thing I want to draw attention to is how often this sort of fan storytelling is combined with a profound lack of interest in what 1D members are actually going through. The tags screen shotted and added on to the post I reblogged actually described Holivia as Douis 2.0. Apparently assuming that there was absolutely no connection between Douis, and Louis and his family's ultimately successful efforts to privacy as Jay was dying. What the fuck is wrong with people that they ignore that, and erase that? There's far more interest in making up 1D members suffering so that fans can continue to tell the stories they want to tell, than actual acknowledgement of what we know that they went through.

Sorry I got distracted. What I'm trying to say is that there's nothing wrong with having feelings about celebrities or telling stories about them. But it's so important to acknoweldge the limits of your knowledge and power, even when fandom discourse encourages the opposite.

[ectora]

REVIEW 313

took me some time to actually get into that review lmao But i really loved the episode. I know some people will probably have complains about it, but as someone who absolutely loves Abigael, I really liked it. And honestly the fact that abigael was finally included in the main story is not even the reason why. I loved the pacing, it actually felt like Charmed. The stakes, the construction, the format, it was all on point. It was genuinely their best episode alongside 307 (two episodes related to the tomb lmao) and one of their best in the show imo.

I've put it in "hidden" cause it ended up being so long I did not expect that im sorry 😭

SCREEN TIME

Maggie: 29m20s

Macy: 27m36s

Mel: 25m39s

Abigael: 20m17s

Jordan: 10m32s

Harry: 47s

Not gonna lie, I did not miss Harry this episode. Maybe it's just cause I don't like the way they have been writing both him and Macy this season, way too focused on the relationship, but his story does not really interest me. And I enjoy watching Macy interact with other characters a lot more. I think we could have had a little bit more of Jordan as well.

What I liked

where do i even start. I genuinely enjoyed so many things in this episode.

As said earlier, I really enjoyed the structure of the episode, to me it finally really felt like charmed. The way the episode was done was beautiful and I LOVED the trial in a general manner. They're terrible lawyers, but still loved it lmao

Ok hear me out, the fact they had abigael and macy say what the fan had been saying but reversing the roles was actually sent me lmao

I really enjoyed that they balanced the rights and wrongs of abigael. I'm part of the people who think that overall, most of what she did was not that deep tbh, but the episode allowed to have nuances and hold her accountable for things she did while also recognising that she did good things.

Abigael finally interacting with the sisters. To me, that's the sign of good characters tbh, how they can interact with different other leads/mains and such relationships being interesting. Abimel, i'll talk about it a bit later cause i have lots to say. But AbiMacy ? I absolutely always love their scenes, one of the reasons being that I genuinely think they're the two best actresses in the show and you can really feel it when they're on screen. They have easy chemistry and whatever they are doing, they just work. They also had one of the best potential of the show in terms of dynamic and I will never forgive the writers for ruining this, especially because it's in part because of a man. Anyway, their scenes were amazing to watch and I need more. I was especially happy because let's be honest, if Macy has valid reasons to dislike Abigael, they often miss-portrayed that in the show and it often came across as being mostly based on the whole love triangle between Macy Abi and Harry. But this time it really was not and Macy was quite fair, even reaching the conclusion Abi doesn't belong in there - she does not- and I liked that they actually were fair on Macy's dislike and distrust. Then there was AbiMaggie. Honestly, it's not a relationship i expected to enjoy that much but oh god i love them. I loved them in episode 207 and I still do. They just have such a funny dynamic, I can't even explain it correctly but it just work. They're throwing remarks at each other sure but it's almost in a sweet funny way. Abigael calling Maggie 'Legally Brunette" was so funny and cute at the same time.

Talking about Maggie, I really liked her this episode. I love how she reacts in situations where they need a cold head. She takes the lead, she does what needs to be done and she reaches the goal. I really enjoy seeing her taking that role a little bit more. Especially because to me Maggie was always the one with the most nuanced view on the world which I really appreciate. I loved her speech at the end and she grew so much since season 1, she's really so great. The more we advance in the show, the more she shines.

I really liked what happened at the end with the sisters recognising that they are themselves not perfect and are even chaotic. I have a point about being chaotic for later but anyway. Yes the sisters are not perfect. Honestly, they have done questionable things in the past themselves and often are the cataclysm of new things happening. I think it just makes them more interesting and better characters. Black and white can only get so long. Nuanced, imperfect, that's where the complexity lies and what is more interesting imo.

The perfecti really are good characters. I mean their logic was completely f*cked, but they are so entertaining to watch, it's actually great. I like also that they continued that idea that logic without emotion is dangerous. But in some ways tbh, the Perfecti are not even logical. They want to think they are, but their own logic is flawed and like Macy said, completely lacks context.

Finally the power of three and FINALLY, the plot goes forward. Maybe that's another reason I really enjoyed the episode, the fact that it actually had a good flow, it felt like one constructed episode and it actually advanced the story which cannot be said about a lot of the episodes. So I'm happy that happened.

And finally Abimel. I mean, no one can be surprised Abigael has feelings for Mel tbh, girl has not been subtle about it lmao But that declaration was actually cute and their scene at the bar ?? paralleling the one in season 2, it was so sweet. I just love them tbh, and I really think they could have been the ship a lot of us were waiting for in the sapphic community especially.

Abigael's past. Like I loved learning more about her past and her mom. Obviously her traumatic past does not exempt her from her own actions but I do believe it give strong grounds for redemption. it also gives us a lot of insights in her character. Her mom was an absolute monster and what she did to her was terrible. There is no surprise in Abigael's absolute lack of self worth and her unhealthy coping mechanism. Like her mom basically spent her life telling her she was deficient and then punished her for something she had no control on whatsoever. She punished Abigael for her own action and her own liaison with a demon. She probably projected her anger about that relationship on the child that came out of it and it's absolutely horrifying. Like no wonder Abigael is not fond of witches and went into the demon side tbh. Like that's not surprising at all. It also explains why she was so against the idea of witch = good that the sisters keep perpetuating because that's simply not what she experienced. Again, it does not excuse everything she did but I do believe it helps understand the character better and that ultimately, it gives space for a redemption. And again, kuddo to both poppy and the actress who played her mom. First that was great casting and it was really well played.

Remarks

To be honest, I don't really have things I genuinely disliked so I'm more gonna do like a section where i could criticise some of the aspect which to me did not necessarily made sense but were often still funny, and who knows maybe done on purpose. It's gonna be a mix of a little bit of everything.

One of the first thing I was kinda confused on was their use of the term chaos. Because, well, chaos doesn't equate evil. But that's the angle they started taking at the beginning which to me was confusing. It didn't make the episode bad, but the more I think about it, the more I'm like the defence they were going with had nothing to do with the charges 😭 Like, the sisters tried to prove that basically Abigael was a good person. But the charges were that she was chaotic. and by the end of the episode we did reach that kind of point where they said everyone was chaotic and everything - which i liked - but also didn't really match the angle they took the entire episode. Because, I personally never saw Abi as evil. But she is 100% chaotic like that girl is the definition of chaotic and I love her for it. But her doing good or bad is not necessarily what makes her chaotic. Good deeds can be as chaotic as bad ones. For example, Abi binding her own power could be considered as good by some people (it's not really but you see what I mean) but by doing so, she would lose the title of overlord and therefore end the treaty. In that case the war would start and that would definitely be chaotic. If she was to stay overlord however, and control the demon world, which can be seen as bad i guess, she is keeping the war from happening and stopping attacks toward witches and innocents, which is the contrary of chaotic. So yeah, the angle they took did not actually make that much sense cause the two are not the same.

Not gonna lie, bringing Godrik up was so weird to me cause like he tried to kill her first and they all know it, yet she was the one said to try to murder him and I was like ? did we all forgot what happened ? 😭

Some of the things brought by the perfecti - such as her killing those humans or demons - seemed weird because like, the sisters did the same in the past 😭 But also that's part of the whole lack of context aspect I guess.

No they really used Francesca as a witness out of all the people in the world like the woman is a whole child abuser who asked help to the elders, which have been established as like, not good people lmao I know it was part of the whole the perfecti are very selective on the information they actually take into account and they use the information as well as twist them to fir their own narrative but still it came across as weird because that woman was the definition of evil. But that's also what ticked the sisters so well.

Why did they not call Harry to testify was also kinda like ... weird. I mean at the same time I can't really complain but still, it was a bit odd. Also the fact they never thought about showing what was abigael actually doing with Jordan lmao I mean it wouldn't go along with the plot but still.

Ok, that take is subject to controversy and I know it but anyway : to me, Abi stealing Macy's power was ... not that deep. Don't get me wrong, the story was bad. The execution was even worse. In the show itself tho, objectively, as an act, it was not that bad. It actually made a lot of sense for Abigael to take it for herself. Macy wanted to get rid of her demon powers, no one was forcing her. And Abigael actually asked her multiples times if she was sure. Macy definitely had her reasons to do so. But at the end of the day, Abi picking them up when they were gonna disappear in thin air is really not that bad. It's logical. Don't get me wrong I'm glad Macy is getting them back, but I also think there has been a lot of mix up between the actual act of stealing the powers and the way it was done/optics ( I still don't understand how anyone wrote that scene and was like, yeah kneeling is a good idea ??? Like what's wrong with you 😭). But like ultimately, the act itself is not bad. questionable ? sure. Evil ? really not. Like let's be honest here. Abigael never hid who she was (past ep3 obviously). She did not pretend to be an angel, nor that she was a good samaritan. At the end of day, the sisters knew who she was and how she worked. They came to her knowing this. At some point, there is a need to acknowledge that, she was no angel, but they knew that and still went to her. She said it herself, she is used to fight for herself, and she'll sting to protect herself first - which i personally don't really hold again a character. If you go in bed with a scorpion, you can't ignore the fact there is a chance you're gonna get stung. Plus, when Abigael "stung" she also actually still gave them what they wanted/needed. I personally never saw self interest negating a good action. I don't really care if she gets something out of helping. Like at the end of the day, why wouldn't she take them ? In some ways however I do understand why Macy would be mad, she asked for help and she didn't realise Abigael stole them and she doesn't like abigael in the first place so why would she be ok with Abi taking them. That's valid too. But objectively, it was more a she was offended and mad that Abi herself had them more than a it's a terrible thing to do kinda feeling. So like it's a bit of a weird situation because Macy being annoyed and mad is valid but at the same time, it's really not that bad in itself. But overall that story should have never existed in the first place. And certainly not happen like this.

Abimel. I loved it but I also have issues with it. Mostly based on the fact we learned Poppy was leaving the show. And not gonna lie, I cant stop myself from feeling like it was almost a bit .. baity if I dare say. They had basically admitting having feelings for Mel and low key hoping it could lead somewhere when honestly, if she's leaving, they did not need to make it romantic. Because honestly, watching this episode not knowing she would leave ? You'd definitely could think it's happening, especially with all the other hints in the past. They could have made it like more about how Mel was the one giving her a real benefit of the doubt and they had a connexion and she wanted to be worthy of that. It would not be romantic. Especially cause she admitted caring about all sisters so it would have worked. Again, don't get me wrong, I want the most Abimel i can get lmao but also it feels a little weird. It's complicated. 😭

Jordan is definitely coming back, I just wonder what are going to be the circumstances. I completely understand why my boy needed a break. Like their time in the tomb was long. We don't exactly know how time works there but remember, in episode 7 when the sisters were stuck, the normal time was like what ? hours ? while in the tomb it was days for Maggie. So there it was days in normal time so in the tomb ? could potentially feel like weeks, months even. So yeah, give him a break and some time to breath. I know they're dragging this whole Joggie thing but because of Covid i also understand and will let it go. I really like them tho.

Abi has some alcohol problems I feel like should maybe be talked about. Like she uses it as an escape, as a way to numb her feelings. There is a reason it was used to symbolise her submitting herself to the tomb. And her first reaction after leaving the tomb was drinking. When she feels unhinged or vulnerable ? She drinks ? When she lost the title of overlord ? She drank. Alcohol is her escape which is a bit worrying.

Not about the episode but I think it needs to be brought up. I've seen people trying to say they brought up the abuse storyline for abigael out of nowhere and like. Listen I completely understand not trying to give more thoughts to a character you dislike, that's fair enough. But saying that storyline is out of nowhere is just a lie. The only new elements we had here were the details of the abuse she went through. They showed the clip again in the episode, where Abigael talks to Mel about her mom. She rejected her, she made her felt, deficient, wrong. All that is emotional abuse. She said her mom tried to fix her which can easily be thought about physical abuse. Like none of these things were new. To be honest, not a single thing they clarified/established for abigael this episode does not follow up with what was in the show in the past. Her feelings for Mel were honestly rather obvious at this point. Her not wanting TCO to get hurt ? There is literally a scene where Godrik tells her it's her head or the sisters and she never really even thought about throwing the sisters under the bus. She even asked who knew and it's easy to think it's because if no one knew she could put it under the rug. Again, it's fair enough for people to dislike her to not try to put more thoughts into her motivations or scenes in a general manner, but then you can't really say things are out of the blue.

And most importantly, I'm sorry, I don't care if you dislike the character, but if you dismiss the abuse just because of the dislike, that's a problem. What a character goes through in her past does not, in any way, have to change your opinion about them. Whatsoever. However when it comes to issues like child abuse, the bare minimum would be to be respectful of the subject and not say "she deserved it", "should have done more" or just say you don't care cause that changes nothing. Again, it doesn't have to change anyone's opinion at all and it does not excuse behaviours, but man, minimal respect is not that hard.

Highlights

This episode genuinely had such funny moments, i loved it.

« Is this a hard time to admit I failed debate in high school ? » and « could the defendant keep her commentary to herself » competing with each other for the funniest part of the episode. The delivery was perfect on both part. And Abi and Macy interactions are always so good and them bantering more or less seriously all the time is sending me. Macy was just so annoyed with her, i loved it.

« Need something legally brunettes » I said it already but I loved that little scene between AbiMaggie and that line particularly.

Abigael went from saying "I could care less about any of you" to "because I deeply care about her" followed by a whole ass declaration AND admitting she does actually care about all of them. My girl got absolutely played and it was genuinely so funny. Like Abigael was so freaking smug about testifying against herself and she got played so hard, she was SO annoyed it was actually hilarious.

"Every battle I fought, I fought alone" like excuse me while I'll go cry in a corner. Again, Poppy has been absolutely killing her role this season.

"Your arguments are illogical" the perfecti have such audacity like girl have you heard yourself ? 😭 no one is being less logical than you right now.

Lmao when Macy said Abigael belonged into the tomb, Mel was not agreeing 😭 And Maggie was having none of the drama either she just wanted out.

The sisters realising they had to be Abi's character witnesses lmao it was hilarious pleas idc.

Theories

With Poppy Drayton leaving, there are two theories I kinda have. Obviously Abigael is either gonna die or leave. Ngl, I can feel the dying one coming more but well, that brings the two theories.

Abigael would sacrifice herself. Which I don't like but honestly let's be honest, there are 95% chances of that happening. I could see her sacrifice herself for Mel or for the sisters in general. But that's where my abimel issues are coming. I love abimel. I want the most abimel i can have until the end. But Abigael admitting have feelings for Mel just in the purpose of having her sacrifice herself for her and to be 'worth it' ? that's not only a byg trope, it's also lazy.

If she just leave, which wouldn't really make sense to be honest cause why would she just leave, would she give up the title of overlord (why even) or would they bound her powers (i would hate that) ? but anyway, if that's the case, I could actually see her learn Waverly is not actually the one rejecting her. Waverly could very possibly not be the one who communicated with Jordan and the sisters. No one ever saw her, the letters are only signed by her name. It's a bit sus tbh, so nothing stops it from being Francesca actually impersonating her daughter to keep her away from Abigael.

I want to know more about the perfecti. We know they killed charmed ones before, and it doesn't seem like charmed ones existed when they were created ? Maybe the charmed ones were created after they went into the tomb ? I still am not sure about them going into the tomb by themselves tbh. But also they don't seem to be evil in the sense they want power or whatever, more in the fact like they consider themselves perfect and that if someone stands in their way, they'll just get rid of them.

[foronceleavemealone]

A little bit broken, a little bit sad

A/N: Oh boy. I was inspired by this song. I love the vibe, I hope I succeeded portraying that vibe in a way. Yes, I get inspired by songs, I guess... I do recommend listening to them while reading or before. Can I write something without a flashback? I think not. But I actually like this one. This is S3E4 Javi, the ending, and I expanded it further on. I hope it’s enjoyable. I apologise for any mistakes

Summary: A bittersweet day only gets a bit more bittersweet for Javier. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (can be read as an insert)

Warnings: slight unhealthy coping mechanisms - alchohol consumption

————————————

Javier sat at his desk, another glass of whiskey in his hands, a cigarette smoking between his fingers. He was picking at the day’s events, his own thoughts and emotions. Surely today was a win. Right? After a complex mission, that could’ve ended badly at any point if anyone had made a mistake, they did get Gilberto  Rodríguez. That should be a win in Javier’s book. Not even the ambassador’s outlook could ruin this. He did what seemed right. People do want to see the godfathers in handcuffs and that’s what they’re gonna get. 

Everything turned bittersweet when Colonel Martínez told him the news about his resignation. Javier felt guillty. He was the one that dragged Martínez into this. Colonel was one of the very few trustworthy people, and like he himself said, Javier was on his own now. It bothered Javier quite a bit. He didn’t want a good man to lose his job or his reputation, he also didn’t want to lose an ally in this already tricky situation. 

Javier took the last sip of his drink and put out the cigarette. He looked at the files ant tapes scattered on his desk and walked out of his office. 

“Hey, boss” Stoddard stopped him. “Good day today, huh?” 

“The Jurado tapes” Javier didn’t let Stoddard suck up any more.

“W-well we...probably shouldn’t call them that ‘cause they’re not legal, per se” 

“I want all of them.” Javier didn’t wait for Stoddard’s reaction or response. He walked away but stopped when the board with the cartel connection scheme came into his view. Like once before, he walked over and crossed out one of the godfathers’ photos. 

It still felt bittersweet. He thought about the amount of work that awaits him. And how even the victories are followed by hardships. He ran a hand through his hair and from the corner of his eye he noticed something. Her office light was still on. Was she also working late? Javi suddenly felt the need to see her. 

He started walking towards her office, heart racing, hands getting clamy. Oh how he had missed her. He slowed his pace once he saw her through the blinds of the office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork. He took in the image. The way she looked in the yellowish lighting, the way she tilted her head reading the documents... She put down the documet she was studying and sat back in her chair, rubbing her forehead. She seemed tired, and at that sight Javi also realised how tired he was. Suddenly she shifted her gaze and saw Javier. ‘She must have heard me,’ he thought to himself. They locked eyes. She gave him a small smile and little wave. Javi felt flustered, but also managed to give a little wave. For a second he pondered stopping to say hi almost with a twitch in his step, but decided that it’d be best if he didn’t. 

Javier headed outside, to his car, steps heavy and slow. He debated going to a bar, but decided that maybe he had enough for one evening. He sat behind the wheel and sighed. This definitely was one hell of a day. He started the car and exited the embassy. A bright sign caught his eye on the way back to the appartment. It was the bar he used to always pass on his way home. The bar they all used to pass. Javi, her and Steve. She always joked how they would one day go there to celebrate once the case was finally finished. That never happened. Javier got sent back beforehand. 

————————————

Javier headed towards her apartment and knocked on her door. He heard a slight stumble and a qiuet curse. 

“Hey” he said once she opened the door.

“Hi, Javi” she quietly said back.

“I... Can we talk?” 

She hesitated, but stepped over to the side and let him walk in. The apartment wasn’t a mess, but he could tell that she was struggling a bit. A bottle of liquor sat on the kitchen counter next to a half empty glass. She wasn’t a fan of alchohol, that was one of the indicators that she had not been feeling that well.

“What you wanna talk about?” She crossed her arms “Is it work?”

“Sort of.” He looked over to her. “Are you ok?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine.” She said, voice a bit shaky. 

“I know we had a fight, but I still care...about you.” Javier came closer to her.

“You want to talk work, go ahead.” Is all she said sitting down on the kitchen stool. 

Javier sat in front of her and told her everything about his involvement with the vigilante group and how everything went south and lastly how he was being sent back to the States. There was silence when he finished explaining everything. He was examining her body language. She was still staring into the distance, arms crossed over her chest. He noticed that her eyes were glistening as she bit her lower lip. 

“You...” she began.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get involved.”

“You knew what this could escalate to.” Her voice seemed calm, but the tears began to fall. “Gosh...That’s why you’ve been so distant...” she paused and took a deep breath. “You knew we were all worried about this situation, everyone was. The hell, you knew how it made me feel. I can’t even sleep at night anymore, Javier, I’m always on edge. And you said you care...”

“I do care about you. I tried managing everything, I did...” He lowered his head.

She stared at him, tears still streaming down her face. He couldn’t exactly tell what she was feeling. He guessed anger, but also sorrow and fear. 

“My gosh, Peña.” She shook her head. He didn’t like that she called him by his last name, she only did that at work or in rare cases at home, when she was a bit angry or upset. They stayed silent for a while. Javier looked at the clock. As much as he didn’t want to go, he felt like he should. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He said standing up. “I hope you’ll be ok... I love you.” Javier said looking down at the floor. He didn’t get a response and started heading towards the door.

“I.” she took a deep breath and looked at him. He slightly turned around and looked and her. “I hope they’ll go easy on you.”

Javier nodded and went straight to the door.

“I love you too” her voice reached his ears as he put his hand on the door handle. He stopped for a moment, but then quickly opened the door and headed to his own apartment.

————————————

Javier realised he was already home by the time that heart wrenching memory finished playing in his head. He took off his tie as he went into his bedroom and sat on the bed. He stretched his neck. 

He felt exhausted, but his mind kept going back and forth from one moment of the day to the other. His mind lingered a little bit on her. Gosh... He realised how much he missed her. The way she used to say his name, the way she used to walk. He missed the showers they’d take and how long they’d talk through the night and how in the end she would tell him that everything was going to be alright. Her scent that would linger on him when they hugged or how she would nuzzle her nose into his neck while they were laying in bed completely snugged. The way she would doodle little flowers on his paperwork with a pencil when he was complaining about a coworker that was acting like an idiot and a jerk. 

Now they were physcially close to each other at work, but miles apart emotionally. At least that’s what he thought. They never went back to the way they were before. Javi gulped. She truly was all he had here. Now he had to navigate through all the hardships alone. He wished they would have each other, he wished it didn’t go so bad...

With a heavy heart Javi went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. 

“It’s done” he said quietly to himself and went on with his routine. 

[lesbian-ed]

(I am the 💠 anon) First, thank you for being willing to look at this question! I completely understand if you find you’re unable to answer it, but would you mind indicating you received it either way? (Tumblr often fails to deliver asks I send so I just want to make sure you received it even if you don’t/can’t answer. Thank you!) For you and anyone else who may be reading this: This ask contains graphic descriptions of self harm. 

My problem: I’m having difficulty understanding why my mild forms of self harm are a problem. I know we’re taught that they are but it seems to help me more than it hurts. I don’t do anything life threatening and rarely anything that even leaves a mark (I have a disorder that amplifies my experience of painful stimuli so I rarely need to). In contrast, causing myself pain kept me from spiraling into an anxiety attack just last night, distracts me from more disturbing intrusive thoughts, and helps me reach a state of mind where I can actually solve a problem instead of making myself sick from worry or causing distress to my loved ones.

And I know my behaviors are stigmatized by society but I really just can’t see how scratching myself (and only VERY rarely to the point of bleeding) or bending my joints past their limit is any different from people who exercise until they throw up/have very bad muscle aches, stay up all night on purpose, or use alcohol or caffeine or whatever excessively (other than that my actions provide immediate (my best word for this is sharp?) relief and the others are more dull relief and also more incompatible with my aforementioned disorder).

I guess what I’m asking is if this seems reasonable to you? I know my behaviors are unhealthy but so are a lot of people’s behaviors? (And I mean people think it’s terrible if you hit your hands against something to stop an anxiety attack but make jokes about living off no sleep and coffee? Why is what I do worse than that especially since their behaviors probably lead to much worse health outcomes in the long term?)

And since I logically know that you probably also think I should stop/that this is really bad- do you know of any explanations that aren’t just “cutting is bad” (which I don’t do, I know it’s dangerous and could actually lead to an accidental death and I use milder forms of harm to distract of intrusive thoughts about it).

Thank you again for looking at this, and thank you in advance for any advice you may be able to give me.

Hey, there! Sorry for the late reply, I had to sit with this for a bit. I’d like to start with a couple of disclaimers. First of all, I’d like to clarify that I am not a doctor, therapist, or counselor, so please know my advice here is in no way official. Even if this behavior has been helping you, I’d recommend reaching out to a therapist if you can, in order to work on the other things that are leading to you needing these coping mechanisms in the first place. By extension, it’s important to point out that all of the opinions I will state here are just that: opinions. They’re based on unofficial research and personal experience, and are not in any way a replacement for medical help or therapy. 

Okay so. I think it’s most important to start by addressing the point you’ve made about people’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. You’re right that things like unhealthy exercise routines, disordered consumption of legal or illegal substances, unhealthy sleeping patterns, unhealthy working schedules, etc are all examples of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Self harm can also be an unhealthy coping mechanism. None of these are better or worse than the others. They’re just several ways in which people will self harm in order to try and stay afloat in regards to other debilitating symptoms of issues with mental health. 

So yeah, you’re right that these things are sometimes seen as acceptable... But they shouldn’t be. Not because all self harm will lead to suicide (in fact, people who self harm often report they were not aiming to commit suicide), however it can lead to the development of bad habits, which can become addictive, and in the long term lead to worsening health issues, either physical or mental. 

Two wrongs don’t make a right, meaning, just because these bad coping mechanisms are seen as acceptable, it doesn’t mean other bad coping mechanisms should also be accepted. We should strive for treating the mental health issues that lead to overwhelming emotional states, which lead to self harming, in whatever way it may present. The main issue isn’t that you’re self harming, the self harming is caused by the intrusive thoughts, by the anxiety. What needs to be treated are those, first and foremost. That would be the only thing that can actually help with the self harm.

To answer your question about what is it about self harm that is so bad... My opinion, as a laywoman, from my limited understanding of human psychology, is that the worst thing that could come from prolonged and habitual self harm is that eventually you will be teaching your body that these negative physical sensations can lead to positive mental states. So you will exceedingly seek these negative physical sensations, and eventually may become more desensitized to it, needing rougher and rougher self afflicted injuries in order to achieve a calm mental state. Even if you teach yourself that pain leads to good things, your brain still subconsciously knows that pain equals bad. So you’ll have to enter an altered mental state whenever you self harm in order for it to remain sustainable, which might eventually lead to dissociation. 

There is a reason why self harm is stigmatized. As humans and animals, we seek to survive. Our survival instinct dictates that when healthy, we seek for the best physical conditions we can achieve. We stigmatize self harm because we shy away from self destruction, even in small doses. 

This isn’t to say you should feel shame, or bad. There are deeper reasons for your self harm and like I said the triggers which lead to your feeling extreme mental distress are what should be treated. Your self harm is a symptom of mental health issues that run much deeper. So you could continue self harm for a while, and sure, maybe on the short term it might not hurt you... But it doesn’t actually solve the problems which are leading to self harm in the first place. The only thing that could help that is mental health counseling/therapy. 

I’m going to be honest with you, maybe right now, for a while, this behavior isn’t “really bad” as you said. I don’t doubt that it does help you, because self harm is a common reaction to psychological distress. But it won’t fix the underlying problems, sister. And you deserve better than to spend the rest of your life hurting yourself. You don’t deserve to be hurt, not physically, not emotionally, not psychologically. Not at your own hands, not at anybody’s hands. I’m not judging that you do this. I too do this, actually. I know plenty of other women who do this. But we all deserve better, we deserve to seek help, to get help. We deserve to feel at ease with ourselves, and to not want to harm our own bodies.

I’m not a doctor, I don’t know what’s the deadline on how long this behavior will be okay for you. But it seems only logical that eventually you will be training yourself to become comfortable with pain, with discomfort. And you deserve better than that. You deserve to be in a place where your mental health is doing okay, and you can have psychological balance. You deserve to not be so distressed that the only way out of your mind is through bodily self harm. 

Not because you’re bad for doing it, not because you’re wrong. But just because you deserve to be kind to yourself. There shouldn’t be anything so bad in your life leading you to want to hurt yourself, even if it’s “not that bad”/”won’t lead to suicide”. 

I hope I’ve made some sense, and helped shed some light on the issue. 

Here’s some resources on self harm, and some numbers to helplines: 

https://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/get-help/a-z/resource/49/self-harm

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/cutting-and-self-harm.htm

https://checkpointorg.com/global/

https://unitedgmh.org/mental-health-support

https://faq.whatsapp.com/general/security-and-privacy/global-suicide-hotline-resources/?lang=en

I wish you a speedy recovery, and that you may soon find healthier ways to cope with the intrusive thoughts and anxiety. Take care. You deserve to. 

/Mod A

(ps: this was resubmitted from my personal blog so the whole ask came in one piece)

[revol-lover]

i know i have become a shit post queen but this site is a good place to just dump thoughts when i’m too lazy to actually write them down so don’t mind me. also i’m “ok enough”. like i’m not ok-ok but i’m not like badly not ok. 

ok? anyway.

so idk what it is. being raised by emotionally distant parents esp my mom or the depression thats probably also related to that but man i just feel so empty for such long periods of time. empty, or maybe detached is a better word. and just really really restless. and also that when i have good emotions, i dont feel them all that much. idk. sometimes i feel like i’m on the outside looking in on my life. i have a lot of feelings but then at the same time i dont. maybe because i repress a lot then it all builds up and explodes. idk. its awful though. 

i also feel like i have two very distinct sides to me. half of me is like fuck this shit i just want to self destruct but i wont because i’m too responsible to do that and the other half is like wow life is so interesting i am a spirit not a body and i want to be an enlightened being. neither of those sides of me is less me than the other. neither is a farce or anything but its fucking hard for those two sides of me to coexist. the only middle ground, which is probably like 1/3 of the time how i feel, is blah. neutral to absolutely everything.

and i think ive talked about this before but before the whole corona/quarantine thing i was at this extreme level of DONE with feeling isolated in my life, esp as a sahm. done with falling into the trap of believing being a mom was my whole identity (and its definitely a part of it, of course. but i think its unhealthy for moms to think its all we are) like i totally lost myself for a while. my daughters birth being traumatic and her having potential life long complications (and ‘potential’ meaning, her diagnosis is so complicated. theres never going to be a time where we get a real “all clear”. some kids have developed seizures again way down the road, especially at certain ages where kids go through a lot of development.) and then ofc just raising a child with all of that going on, plus normal toddler craziness, plus having a kid who is super hyper and smart and amazing but parenting after having a difficult relationship with your own mother is one of those things that is really hard and not talked about enough. i never feel like im doing enough. i never feel like she likes me.i know thats so stupid but i really am that insecure about my parenting, no matter how hard i try. i just want my child to love me and sometimes toddlers do things that make you feel like crap (ex ‘i dont want u mom i want daddy!’ and i can rationalize it, dad’s the exclusive parent. i’m just here all the time like the furniture. i get it.) and its just a big complicated thing with my emotions. not what i was trying to say tho i got off track.

anyway the isolation thing. so i had a plan. a plan!!! i have this one awesome long time friend, honestly my only friend outside of my husband who knows me like the good bad and ugly, has known me for a very long time, and has been there for me through some really tough shit. he’s like the brother i never had, truly. (i have a biological brother but we dont really talk.) so i talked to him about things i was going through and he’s also been going through a challenging time in his life and he told me he’d help me get out there. we were going to force me to learn to socialize and make friends in “real life” by putting me in those situations. we were going to go to some poetry club. a show downtown. like i was ready. then corona happened. and my already crawling out of my skin isolation got worse because hey we cant do anything now, not even see my one friend. 

so yeah. i was fine in the beginning of all this because i figured, hey by may itll be over! then hey by june! then maybe 4th of july. which has become, my daughter is so excited about her birthday party in august and i dont even know if i can throw her one and i dont know how to deal with this or explain it to her.

i know this is major first world problems and im all over the place and i document this dumb shit because i hope one day i’ll be so far past it and be able to look back and think well wow i made it through 2020  but yeah idk

i think part of it is i’m turning 27 in two weeks and my saturn return thing is just getting so close and i’m starting to see the beginning of shit in my life crumbling underneath me. like i know what i gotta do. i  have to put myself out there. i have to get out of my safety zone. and i have to use my gifts to help others not just sit here drowning in my self pity but obviously its hard to challenge yourself and put yourself out there, literally, during a pandemic. 

and the last point which is just something that boggles my mind about myself that i dont understand. like i’m definitely depressed. i have very bad anxiety too. and even though i can be extremely self pitying and go into like a black hole of sadness, i still dont let myself do bad things. which is good, obviously. but its iike i’ve been recovered from self injury for probably about ten years but some days i am so deep in my shitty feelings or empty feelings that i just want to do it again but i cant. theres something in me that wont let me. and i guess im glad for that, obviously. i guess my life/universe/guardian angel is trying to force me to face shit for real and not just have shitty coping mechanisms but idk. like it was a bad outlet but idk. sometimes, just sometimes, i feel like it did more for me than just writing things out. which is bullshit because it did nothing for me except give me a bunch little permanent reminders of shitty times. but idk. that’s my brain for you. sometimes i want to just let it all go and be a mess in my feelings and not care if i’m ok but then my brain is like nope bitch you cant do that. youre not 17 anymore, get up.

and i know some people would read this (well no - no one would read all this lmao but in a theoretical sense) and think like, oh did you try therapy or oh maybe try meds and the thing is 

therapy - i tried it. i liked the idea of it. bad fit with the therapist tho. didnt like being kicked out after 45 min (which i understand but bitch i need more than that to explain one problem) and it felt weird to be told by her, that she felt like i had a good handle on things. cause i dont really feel that way and i feel like she didnt have much to tell me  in terms of how to idk fix myself besides journaling, which i’ll give her. it helps

meds: i i dont really want to go that route yet because my body is really sensitive to medication. like i dont even take bc or anything like that. however i think ive decided that since its super legal and obtainable i might try pot once we are able to move into our own place. so if anyone did actually read this far and have experience with that (esp w anxiety) please enlighten me. i had some samples of some cbd stuff and it was amazing for my anxiety but it’s way too expensive for me to use consistently.

this has been a very long shit post but i feel better so theres that.

[freewithyourtempo]

Don’t speak to the bartender

Logan swore lavishly.

Bartending was not what the movies made it out to be. He didn’t have the paycheck nor the emotional stability to nod and “mmmh” congenially while some poor bastard poured their hearts out on his newly swiped counter. He didn’t give advices that one would consider morally decent, he didn’t condone feelings that found themselves on either side of “mild annoyance” and “bone-cracking anger” in his (frankly constricted) sympathy spectrum, and he sure as hell didn’t carry around embroidered handkerchiefs to wipe tragically snotty, heartbroken noses.

Apparently, someone hadn’t gotten the memo.

Logan swore again in the vague direction of the rug he was rubbing violently on some chipped mug.

All that sighing on his left was starting to get on his nerves.

Not to mention the seriously creeping half-glass-of-scotch-staring that was being performed behind the alcohol shelves on the other side of the counter.

Those two dudes didn’t even see each other, and they were driving him nuts.

The rug in his hands screeched painfully against the glass.

“This is our anniversary,” sighed the irritatingly posh men on his left. He then proceeded to chug mournfully at the last swig of alcohol in his glass.

He swayed dangerously on his stool.

“Ah,” said Logan.

“Well, it would be,” the man corrected himself, completely unsolicited. “If we didn’t break up.”

Logan glided on the counter and refilled the man’s glass as if his sideburns depended on it, almost dropping the whole bottle of whiskey in his haste. The man flashed him a broad smile. “Thank you, my friend.”

He wasn’t Logan’s friend. Logan didn’t have British friends. Logan didn’t have friends period. He occasionally made a mental list of people he wouldn’t beat up willingly. Or for less than twenty bucks. It was a short list.

“Ugh,” said Logan.

Then the frown returned: the man had probably realized he had come to the bar to sulk, not to smile at strangers who were encouraging his unhealthy coping mechanisms. “It would have been our fifteen-month anniversary.” He stopped and stared pensively at the sticky trail one drop of alcohol had left on his glass. “Did you know that fifteen months is the average gestation length of giraffes?”

Logan fled to the other side of the counter and found solace in the hiding-place provided by the bottles of alcohol.

Brief.

He found a brief solace.

The other Romeo was still staring at his glass of scotch with the desperate face of someone who had just seen the waiter dropping his long-awaited creme-brulee.

God have mercy.

“Do you want anything else?” Logan asked, because he needed to justify his impetuous arrival on stage, or maybe for his compulsive need to punish himself.

The man lifted his gaze and settled it on Logan. He opened his mouth, frowned, and finally said: “How do you move on from someone who used to smile at you like… Like you are at the train station, and you have been away for God knows how long, and you are trudging through the crowd with your luggage slamming on your ankle, everyone is running, everyone is shrieking. And then you see him, and he turns. And he smiles and doesn’t say anything, anything at all, and it’s not your mother tongue, it’s not the buildings you know so well, or the streets, or the flavor of coffee at your favorite bar that you missed. It’s him. And now you are back home and everything is steady again. How do you move on from someone who smiles at you like that?“

Logan was kind of jetlagged. “Shit,” he said profoundly.

“Yeah,” said the man.

Logan poured himself a drink because he was starting to feel feelings and he didn’t like it, then drew a battered cigar out of his pocket and lit it. The smoke soared gracefully in front of the “DON’T SMOKE” sign plastered on the wall.

The man arched his eyebrows, but returned without further comment to his brooding.

The screeching and wailing that always signaled the arrival of a large group of barely-legal jackasses forced Logan to go back to the part of the counter occupied by the previous helpless bastard. He served drinks that were half ice and half Gatorade, content to be finally doing what he was paid for.

“I don’t even know why we broke up, you know?” sighed the aspirant retired Oxford professor on his left when the mooing crowd had left. “I guess we were too different. Or maybe we were too similar, but wanted different things. You know?”

“Ugh,” said Logan, and puffed wildly on his cigar in a good impression of a locomotive.

“It all seems so insubstantial, now,” the man dragged on. “I can work on my thesis all night long without feeling guilty for not being home, but I still put all of my clothes only on the lower shelves of the wardrobe so that he can use the others without bending.”

“Shit,” said Logan.

“Yeah,” said the man. “I miss him especially when it’s Sunday evening and it’s raining, and my feet are cold under the covers.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the smoke, but Logan felt something tugging at his chest as if a worm had crawled its way into his heart.

He dragged another puff of smoke to suffocate the worm.

The man became thoughtful and appeared to have come to a resolution. “Would you be a good chap and refill this,” he shook gently the glass in his hand, “so that I can get drunk and call him?”

To Logan it seemed a reasonable request as any, so he shrugged and poured the man another drink.

And refilling he did.

He went to the other side of the Shakespearean stage another couple of times, because if that tragedy was in two acts then he might as well start following the plot.

Creepy-lover had almost finished his tired whiskey, and spoke to Logan again while he pretended to gather some ice for a margarita. “I obviously miss him, but most of all I miss being that person he saw when he looked at me. I don’t even fit in my skin anymore.”

Half an hour later Logan was starting to miss a boyfriend he never had.

And then everything really went bananas.

The act that triggered the fuse was blurry and wet.

Well, it was for Logan, who was chugging pure vodka right from the bottle and saw Posh-Professor pawing the screen of his cellphone through the glass.

After a few moments, a cellphone rang.

On the other side of the counter.

Logan spat out the whole content of his mouth like a spray fountain.

He heard a crash, a curse in German, something hollow banging against the counter, another, consonanter curse.

He saw Posh-Professor’s jaw open and swing like the seat of an abruptly stopped funicular. “Erik?” He asked, in a soft voice.

There was a pause, then a tentative: “…Charles?”

Six months later, Logan saw a creamy envelope land on his counter.

He frowned. “What’s that?”

The waitress shrugged. “A man came by earlier and left it for you. Said it was important.”

She went away, and Logan poked at the envelope in distrust and building annoyance. He poured another beer and finally decided to open it.

It was a wedding invitation.

He handed over the beer to the customer, and saw him gaping.

“What do you want, Summers?” Logan grunted.

“Are you smiling?”

“No.”

“You are, you are actually smiling. I didn’t know your face-muscles did that.”

“It’s a grimace of pain.”

[andidrewrose]

And I drew roses

      Andrew Rose

Information 

Name : Andrew Cole

Surname : Courtenay Rose

Nickname : Andy, Drew

Title : Earl of Carlisle

Age : 20 years old, coming for his 21st

Nationality: British

Sexual orientation : Bisexual

Activities : Painting, drawing, fencing, horse riding, reading, learning

House : Napoleon

Major : Psychology

Year : 3rd

Story

Andrew was born in England, to a white wealthy earl father and a black British-Caribbean mother. 

He has an older sister who is studying politics at Oxford, and a little brother who is still in high school.

He grew up in their family mansion located in a town in the countryside. Until he was height.

He accidentally killed his father in the woods during an archery practice when he was eight years old. 

Their neighbours accused his mother for the crime, became very racists towards what was left of this family, forcing the Courtenays to move from town. They ended up in a town called Whitney.

When his father died, they lost most of the family’s incomes and everyone tried to suck money out of them in every way they could. Their status went from very wealthy to high middle class. 

His father’s mother didn’t really want to help the daughter-in-law she never liked, but she loved her grandchildren and offered to pay for their education if she could see them regularly. 

When going to their grandma’s, which was a whole floor of the castle she ran, Andrew used to take fencing lessons and do some horse riding, along with going to parties. With his grandmother could have a taste of the aristocracy life he missed when he killed his father. 

He was desperate to quit England for any other country. With the advice of his mother and grandmother he chose Astor Academy to learn psychology. (full story at the end)

Facts 

Due to the big trauma he endured as a child, Andrew has been struggling with mental health his whole life. 

He draws and paints since the accident. He also started doing graffiti when he was a teenager. This is one of his way of coping. 

His grandmother sells his paintings to her friends and to some amateurs by exposing them in her castle. 

One of his recurrent pattern in his paintings are red dots, a vivid image from the accident.

 One unhealthy way was drugs, when he was in high school. He finally realized it wasn’t what he needed when coming to Astor Academy.

His real drug is danger, despair, and the adrenaline that comes with it. He realized he only felt alive when he was facing his death. 

Psychology is his major because he has a history with psychologist and psychiatrists and he feel like he needs to help other children like him. He wants to specialize in Child Psychology. 

He has a british accent.

He took his mother’s name when enlisting for Astor, as a way to let this tragedy and a part of himself behind him.

No one knows that he killed his father. And doesn’t want to tell anybody.

Character

Most of the time, Andrew is pretty chill. He likes to hang out with people, without being too outgoing. 

In a group, he won’t be the most talkative one, but he will never miss an opportunity to make a sarcastic comment. As youngsters say, he is “fluent in sarcasm”. 

He likes to tease his friends, making them laugh and laughing with them.

He will gladly play along with someone’s prank or act.

He makes sure to always compliment his friends when they do something that needs complimenting, for their work, their outfit, their ideas, their good actions...

He’s not easy to anger, but he can be easily annoyed.

He is very good-mannered and polite. His “posh” vibes are always fighting with his “hooligan” vibes. 

He doesn’t want anyone to know he has a title and that he comes from aristocracy. He tells everyone he’s from an average rich family. 

When it comes to him, his feelings and his past, he’s very secretive. Which can make him look like he’s being mysterious. 

If he is going through a depressed phase, he can be very moody.

If you get him on a topic that he has strong opinions or that he is passionate about, he would gladly talk hours about it. 

He takes his studies seriously, and even if he likes to go out, you will often see him in the library or his room studying. 

/tw : sh\ Though he doesn’t harm himself anymore, he is drawn to self-harming situations, aka dangerous ones. He will seek a way to make himself pay for what he did. 

Interpretation of the character based on the information given on the skeletons (one paragraph):

Made-up confidence. Perfect appearance. Wit and sarcasm. His smile can charm but, no matter how good he is at controlling everything about himself, attempting to reach for the boy he was, his eyes don’t fool anyone. Truth is, Andrew has never really been well since the incident. He has rarely felt alive at all. Seeking comfort in everything he could, alcohol, drugs, sex... Anything that may cover the void. But all of this didn’t do it for him. Numbing himself away from reality never really was the solution, even if he was convinced it was, for a moment back in high school. But the emptiness was still there. No, he realized this was not his cure. In order to feel alive, he had to feel like he was pushing himself to the edge of death. Waking his brain the fuck up. Tricking it into thinking he was going to die, so he could have access to this primitive part of his brain, survival mode, that made him feel so alive. Challenge. Danger. Fear. Adrenaline. Desperate hope. However, one who doesn’t really know him couldn’t guess this side of him. He seems so charming and sweet...

His only healthy way of copying mechanism is art. Painting. Graffiti tags. Leaving a permanent mark. One that cannot be erased so easily. Greater than oneself. At the end, the final result is the history of every line you made. Either if you meant to trace it or not.

History (give your chosen character a brief background):

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His life. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

He was — is — the son of an English earl. Growing up in a respectable family, in the mansion in this lovely english town, with his sister and brother, his parents, the grandparents and cousins never too far away. It should have been a pretty, happy, privileged life.

Living far from the stress and pollution of the city, in a rich town where you grow up with the same people and create unbreakable bonds that will last forever after you all part ways and when you meet, five, ten years later, the friendship and camaraderie never faded away, and you talk about the good old days and how simple were things before. Getting every luxury you would have feel like wanting to have, affording every trip, every piece of clothing, every jewelry, every unnecessary whim. Getting the best education of the country, with special individual teachers, piano, violin, french, german, horse riding, boxing, fencing lessons. Getting into Eton. Not having to bother to acknowledge the price of anything. Having the possibility to do everything you fucking want because money and status can repay for everything, because money can buy everything, and everyone. Meeting the elite of the nation in splendorous parties and gatherings. Being beautiful, handsome and resplendent. Envied. Desired. Feeling powerful and invincible.

But none of this happened to Andrew. Not to his sister, or his brother. All because of him. He is responsible for so many of his family’s problems. And it has always been a burden he had to carry alone. And a fucking big one.

His father died when he was eight. Colin Courtenay was a British noble and business man. He came from a rich family and intended to make his family even richer. He had ambition. He was well respected amongst his peers. He was at the head of a big fortune and when he unexpectedly died, the mess that came as the aftermath was a nightmare.

Colin’s wife, Andrew’s mother, Sarah Courtenay, was already devastated enough by her loss, but she had to bear the accusations that were made against her. This was a little town, and gossip and rumors are the pillars of its life. People knew that Sarah did not came from a family as rich as her husband’s, quite the contrary even, and family’s friends and others would have heard that the couple wasn’t the happiest at the moment. But this was more than gossip, this was real accusations. People in town would accuse her of commanding the murder of her husband. She hired someone to kill her husband in the woods so she would inherit his fortune and title for her son, Andrew. They would spit it at her, along some racist slur directed at her and her children, especially Andrew. From one day to the other, the all town was revealing its true nature. People they considered as friends were turning against them. The harassment wouldn’t stop. They couldn’t live here anymore. They had to get away. All because of him. The thing is, Andrew was responsible for his father’s death.

They first went to some land that was his father’s. But they had to move from there quickly too when the news got to the villagers’ hears. Colin’s mother was also trying to legally take back all her son’s land and wealth, she never trusted her daughter-in-law. She tried to keep the children with her too, but Sarah would never let go of them.

So they quickly moved into a house in Whitney. Sarah, who graduated from college with a science degree, had to find a job, something she hadn’t done since she married Colin. Colin’s investors and associates were stealing money where they could. They threatened her to frame her for her husband’s murder if she tried to take legal actions against them.

Sarah spent years and years fighting for her and her children’s well-being. She was a single mother that came from a poor family from Saint-Vincent, and her husband wasn’t here anymore to protect her, all the rich vultures were trying to have a piece of this meal.

Andrew had to watch her mother’s life, all of their lives, go to ruins. Because of one thing he did.

Her mother and grand parents fed him lies. It’s not your fault honey, it’s not your fault. Maybe they meant it. Or they were better liars than his siblings. The way his sister looked at him was speaking for itself. She saw everything. 

Their father’s mother would eventually help them. Only because she still loved her grandchildren and demanded to see them when she pleased. She would in exchange pay their education and teach them how to run her castle and the domain once she will be gone. Even in his grandmother Andrew could feel resentment towards his person.

The boy just wanted to run away from all this.

He tried building himself a new life in Whitney, new friends, girlfriends, boyfriends. But growing up messed up, biracial and bisexual in a group of uneducated boys, he quickly came to conclusion that nothing will ever be normal again, especially not him.

He sought for a way out. And when he found it, he took it. That’s how he ended up studying psychology in America.

The topic of the change of his last name has been brought many time by him to his mother, so people wouldn’t link them to the drama. She considered it more than once, but never went through. She wanted to claim their belonging to this family and her husband’s memory. However, Andrew made his own decision and took his mother’s name when coming to America. A fresh start. 

[thechildoflightning]

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch3- Bargaining

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Bargaining- Chapter Three

Summary: 

Stage Three: Bargaining- Characterized by making internal and external deals in order to cope with or even attempt to fix a loss.

In which Remy is talking, but not nearly enough.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide & Rape & Hate Crimes (all mentioned), Transphobia & Racism & Fatphobia & Ableism (all mentioned)

[ao3 link]

Bargaining- Chapter Three

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone claims, direct and to the point. Remy knows it’s from his dad, he’s the only one leaving Remy voicemails. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Look Remy, I get that you’re not happy. I know how much going to university meant to you. I get that, okay? But it just isn’t realistic and you need to accept that. I- look why don’t you come home? The college in town is great, maybe you can take a few courses there. I think it’s too late to sign up for this semester but maybe you can start in the spring. I know they don’t have some of the sculpture classes you were interested in but they have some creative writing courses and that’s pretty much the same thing, right? Just… Please call me. We can work something out together.”

-

A little while later, Remy and Patton settle in the living room. Patton sits on the couch and Remy’s a few feet away on the floor, hugging his dog as he slowly stops sniffling. Cha-Cha helps him out, covering his face in kisses to get rid of the tears. Remy laughs little and pushes her away after a moment.

The small chuckles ring out as the only noise in the room.

Patton still doesn’t speak.

Remy quickly falls silent.

“I came out as trans when I was fourteen,” Patton eventually says, “But- I- I mean I don’t- there wasn’t one moment for me. I- gosh I debated it for forever.” 

Patton stops and Remy considers. Remy’s kind of surprised in all honesty. Patton has always seemed so sure of himself that it surprises Remy that Patton ever had any sort of doubt.

“Why- why’d it take so long?” Remy asks carefully.

Patton hums.

“I guess- I was scared. That was definitely a big piece. There was this huge fear of what it would mean for my life if I was trans. Everything would change.”

Remy swallows hard. 

“I was- I didn’t know what my family would think. I mean- I knew they were supportive but it’s different when it’s your kid, y’know? And there’s all the statistics of suicide attempts, rape numbers, hate crimes, it was a lot. 

“And I- I was also scared I was wrong? Because- because there’s this idea of what a black girl’s supposed to be like, y’know? And I had never been that. But I thought- I thought maybe it was just that? Maybe I wasn’t trans, maybe I was just pissed at the racist standards that follow black girls? And I hated my body but like- how much of that was trans versus being disabled? Versus being fat? So there were all these reasons that screamed at me that I was faking, that I wasn’t valid, that I could never be trans. It was scary because what if I was wrong, what if I was faking?”

Remy’s so scared of being wrong.

“If you were so scared of being wrong- how did you figure out that you were right?”

“I kept coming back to it,” Patton answered honestly, “And I thought- gosh if I keep having these excuses of why I’m not trans but I still end up here again and again and again, questioning my gender and so unhappy, then it’s gotta be true, right?”

Remy thinks she understands.

“And that was it at first, it still is,” Patton continues, “A big part of it now is trusting myself. I’m happy as a guy. It feels right. It is right. I’ve always been a guy. But there’s still doubts, and I guess I deal with those with just accepting them? Because maybe I am faking. Like- maybe. I mean I know I’m trans, but I think I’m always going to have that doubt. And if I’m always going to have that doubt, I’m going to live the way that makes me happy in the meantime. Does that make any sense?

“Yes,” Remy says, and she means it. “Yes. Yes. It does.”

Patton offers a small hum.

“Patton,” Remy says, and she's desperate now, oh so desperate. “Patton,” she insists. “Patton, I’m a girl.”

“Okay.”

Remy cries for the second time that night.

Patton offers a hug, and Remy shakily gets to her feet to collapse into his side. Patton wraps her up firm and tight and he listens to her. He listens and he hugs and he soothes.

It’s so nice.

Her mom never did this for her. She got so sick so fast that it had always been Remy comforting her than the other way around.

Her dad had, or he tried at least. He had wrapped Remy up, wrapped her up in layers and layers of bubble wrap, leading to suffocation instead of protection. Remy’s dad hugged her but it had always felt wrong. It always felt like it was about her dad, never actually about herself. His hugs were given as proof that Remy needed him, needed his suffocation, versus providing any actual care or comfort.

Remy hated that she almost missed them.

She curled into Patton a bit more. Patton lifted one hand to gently stroke her hair, soft ‘it's okay, it’s all going to be okay’ on repeat.

It takes her longer to stop crying this time.

“So,” Patton says, “Where do you want to go with this?”

“I’m a girl,” Remy says again. This time it's a bit stronger. “I’m a trans woman.”

“Okay. Absolutely,” Patton says, “That’s amazing and I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a pause.

“Can I ask about names and pronouns?” Patton prods gently.

“I… Uh,” Remy falters, because she hasn’t really thought this far yet.

“You can take all the time you need,” Patton adds, gentle and sweet, “And while I want you to feel like you can share this with me, you don’t have to either.”

“No- I- She. She/her. I- Feminine language too? Is that the word for that? I-” Remy pauses here. She tenses up, prepares for a fight. She doesn’t think Patton’s going to like what she has to say next, but she has to say it because it feels right. It feels so right, and she’s willing to defend it. “I’m keeping Remy. My name is still Remy.”

“Okay.”

Remy’s body relaxes, then tenses again. “Okay?”

“Of course Remy, whatever you’re feeling is valid. One hundred percent. I’m here to support you.”

“I- I just kept my name?”

“Well you can always change it later-” Patton admits. Remy winces. “Or you can keep it. It’s your name. All that matters is that you’re happy with it.”

“But-” Remy flounders. And it’s so stupid, Patton said it’s fine, why is Remy looking for a fight, “But?”

“Did you know my name is legally Patton Agnes Wilson?” Patton says abruptly.

Remy did not. She shakes her head slightly.

“Yeah I-” Patton continues, before stopping suddenly, “And I just pulled out my ID to show you. Putting that away now.”

Remy lets out a light laugh, and truly relaxes.

“Yeah. When my moms adopted me they gave me the first name Agnes, but I always went by my middle name- my deadname. My deadname hurt. A lot. So I chose Patton. But Agnes, Agnes meant something to me? And I didn’t want to lose that. So I made it my middle name, got rid of my deadname and made Patton my first,” Patton explains. He pauses once more, “Did I say that right?” 

He seems to be questioning himself more than Remy. He starts to mutter the sentence under his breath again, revising it.

“Yeah you said that right,” Remy confirms.

Patton laughs, and it sounds like bells.

“Okay. Good. But my point is- your name is your name, not anyone else's.”

“My mom named me Remy,” she admits, “I- my middle name is Alan. After my great-grandfather. That can go,” she insists, making a face.

“I can understand that,” Patton says wryly.

“Yeah.”

“Have you come out to anyone else yet?”

“No,” Remy sais, “No. No I don't think I was even out to myself. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Remy and Patton haven’t talked a lot. She knows that this conversation has to be painfully uncomfortable for Patton. After all, Remy did just show up at his house, live with him for a few months, leave for college, and then demand he share about being trans. Patton doesn’t even know her.

“I’m glad you did. I’m really glad I could help you with this.”

Patton’s such a good person. Remy’s so appreciative of that.

The door opens and seconds later there's excited skittering paws on the floor as Trixie races over to say hi to Cha-Cha. Cha-Cha perks up at the attention and they quickly begin to play with one another. Remy smiles at their energy and let’s them be.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, “Are you okay?”

She wants to say she’s fine, but maybe, well maybe she isn’t. She isn’t fine at all. She doesn’t know what to say.

(She thinks maybe she should tell Virgil she’s a girl. She did just figure it out, but it’s important. Virgil would understand. He would. But there’s something that tells Remy that she can’t. Not yet).

“I- I dunno? I’m upset,” she admits.

“About?”

“Kind of everything?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I- me and Pat were talking a bit?”

Virgil pauses then stands.

“Okay. I’ll let you be then. But if you need to talk- I’m here okay? You have people supporting you.”

Remy nods, because she doesn’t think she can force words around the choked feeling in her chest.

Virgil leaves.

“I don’t want to tell Virgil yet,” Remy says immediately after he leaves, “Or Logan. Or Roman. Or anyone. I told you, just don’t tell anyone else yet, please.”

“That you’re trans?”

Remy’s trans. She’s trans. It feels so freeing even as it terrifies her.

“Yeah,” Remy confirms, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Okay, that’s fine. It’s yours to share.”

A pause sits between them.

“Can I write this down?” Patton asks for a moment, “I write down important stuff to remember in my phone so when I forget I have it all. I wanted to ask because while my boyfriends would never read my notes unless I told them it was okay, it’s obviously still going to be out there in some way. But I want to write it down because there’s a very high chance I will forget.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Remy agrees.

“Thank you,” Patton says. He presumably pulls out his phone to do exactly that. “It’s getting late and I have a class at nine tomorrow. Did you want to talk more or…?”

“No, no, you can go to bed,” Remy insists, “I’m good, yeah. I'm just going to go middle name searching now. Uh how the hell do I even go about that choosing a new name?”

“Baby websites. They were created for expecting parents, trans people, and authors.”

Remy rolls her eyes at the comment.

She then groans. Like yeah, she wants to find a better middle name than Alan. But she does not want to be searching through millions of names to find the right one. How do parents do this?

“That’s gonna be so many names. Have any suggestions?”

Patton hesitates.

“Yeah?” Remy asks

“I- well. If you want… Eileen was my deadname. But if you want you can use that?”

Patton’s words are casual but Remy can feel the weight behind them, the power. Remy is absolutely floored by the offer. 

“I… really?” she asks.

“I mean if you want. It’s an idea. There’s a lot of names out there.”

“But you would be okay with that?” Remy confirms, because she is honored but she doesn’t want to take something that will make Patton uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he says, “I mean it’s not like I’m using it.”

“Remy Eileen Zurko,” she says, “Remy Eileen Zurko.” She smiles and knows she must look like an idiot.

“Yeah?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remy chokes out, “Yeah I love it.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Okay, I’m headed to bed.” Patton says, “Uh, the bedroom you stayed in is still empty. Extra towels are under the sink… I think. If you want to shower or anything.”

Remy gives a nod and Patton gets up to leave. Before he can fully exit, Remy calls out once more.

“Patton?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Remy’s not quite sure what she’s thanking Patton for in particular. Maybe the name. Maybe for the advice. Maybe for listening. Maybe for the entire conversation in general. Maybe just for being here.

But Remy is. Thankful that is. She’s so thankful.

“Of course. Really.”

Patton means it. Remy knows he does. It makes everything inside of her hurt.

When Patton really is gone, Remy gets up from the couch as well and makes it to the empty bedroom. She closes the door softly behind her and pulls out her phone, opening Kai’s contact. She has some apologizing to do.

-

“We’re going for a walk,” Logan announces, as he enters the doorway to the room Remy’s staying with. He blocks a fair amount of light, and Remy’s eyes struggle to adjust.

“Uh… I was actually about to leave. Maybe another time,” Remy bargains, because she was about to leave. Plus she thinks she might know where this conversation is going and she really doesn’t want to have it.

“Okay,” Logan says, and Remy thinks she’s won. “Then I’ll walk with you back to your dorm.” Nope, Remy’s trapped.

Remy doesn’t have any actual reason to refuse. So she accepts with a sigh and nods. She grabs her bag and heads for the door. At the door, she gets Cha-Cha in her harness and quickly steps outside, Logan trailing behind her.

The minute she steps outside she’s hit with blinding light and takes a step backward into Logan as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Remy?” Logan asks.

She ignores him for a minute, fumbling through her bag for her familiar sunglasses. Which she of course doesn’t have. Because she came here when it was dark out last night with a rushed back of minimal school supplies. Of course.

“Logan, do you have any sunglasses I can borrow?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, “One moment.”

He’s gone the next seconds and Remy keeps her eyes shut and sits down on ground, lying her head in her arms as she hopes for it to stop pounding.

“Hey,” Logan says, rejoining her. He sits down next to her. “Here.”

Remy holds out her hand and Logan hands her a pair of sunglasses. She takes a minute, letting the shooting pain in her head relax a bit. After that, she lifts her head and slips the sunglasses on, slowly opening her eyes. 

“You okay?” Logan asks.

There’s still bright spots in her vision and her head hurts, but both are fading. Her eyes also struggle to adjust to the change in light, but that’s nothing new.

“Yeah,” Remy says. She waits another minute for the panging in her head to die to a dull ache. 

She then stands. “Dorm?”

“Okay,” Logan says, “Do you want me to guide or Cha-Cha?”

Remy answers by grabbing his upper arm right above his elbow. They start walking, Logan guiding.

Logan makes a clicking noise as they make their way to Remy’s dorm. Remy just zones out and starts to think about how she’s going to apologize to Kai and Elliot in person. She texted them both last night, but Remy still knows they both deserve in-person apologies. She shouldn't have snapped at them.

Eventually Logan stops the clicking noise and reaches up to pat at his chest instead. He hesitates for a brief moment and then begins to talk.

“I’m worried about you,” he begins.

Remy just waits. She doesn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe if she listens- or pretends to at least- maybe Logan will voice his concerns and let her go.

“You are of course welcome to stay with us whenever you want. That isn’t what this is about and I want to make that clear. You always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay,” Remy says.

“Virgil doesn’t want to talk to you about this,” Logan confesses, “He thinks we should give you space.”

That means Logan disagrees. Remy wishes he’d just follow in Virgil’s example. It’s easier that way.

“I’m also not going to ask about last night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Patton expressed that it wasn’t- that it was different.”

“Different than what?” Remy can’t help but ask. She regrets it at once.

“Different than what I’m worried about. Or maybe part of it? Playing a role? But not the main idea.”

Remy stays quiet this time.

“You don’t seem happy,” Logan admits after a moment, “I thought things would maybe get better when you were away from your dad for a little bit. And in a sense I think you are doing better. But you aren’t doing… You still seem off. Not only unhappy, but… You seem detached? I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but it concerns me.”

“I’m fine.”

She isn’t. She knows she isn’t now, but for some reason she’s still unwilling to share that with Logan.

“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.”

“You’re saying I’m lying?” Remy can’t help but challenge. It’s not fair of her, but she doesn't want to be having this conversation.

“No,” Logan says, “I’m not sure why you keep saying you’re fine. Maybe you think it yourself. Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you are lying. I don’t know. Regardless, I’m concerned about you.”

“Okay,” Remy says. She knows that’s not the answer that Logan’s looking for, and maybe that’s a bit mean, answering in a way she knows Logan doesn’t want, but this is also Remy’s business so Logan can budge off.

Logan sits with that answer for a minute.

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” Logan says eventually.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I doubt that.”

“I talked to Patton.”

“Apparently not about the things I’m concerned about.”

Remy shrugs.

“I’m frustrated,” Logan says, “I don’t feel acknowledged in this conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy replies, “That wasn’t my point. I get that you’re concerned about me. I hear that. I don’t agree with the concern, but I hear that you are.”

“Okay. Thank you. I want you to talk to me, but I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Remy says.

Logan and her used to be so close. Why was that all crumbling apart?

“Okay,” Logan said, “That’s one of the many things that’s concerning me.”

Remy doesn’t reply.

“Remy, will you talk to someone?”

“I-”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be about the things I’m concerned about. I’m worried that you don’t have anyone you’re talking emotionally with in any scheme. Considering you’ve been through some deep emotional shocks lately, it concerns me that you seem to have no healthy outlets for talking about those things.”

“Uh huh.”

“Remy, I hope you talk to someone.”

For most of this conversation, Remy’s been numb. But there, for just a moment, she feels something.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Remy’s not going to, but she knows that saying she might will make Logan happy. It’s a tradeoff, lying to get Logan off her back. She hates that she doesn’t.

“Alright,” Logan says, and stops, “We’re at the front entrance to your dorm. About thirty feet to the front door, straight ahead. I’m headed to class. Call, text, or visit anytime.”

“Okay.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“No thanks.”

Remy doesn’t really feel up for it, and she knows Logan won’t be offended. She offers a handshake instead which is weird and doesn’t feel right for this conversation or their relationship, but Remy wants to provide something here. Logan accepts it. It’s awkward.

“Alright. Bye,” Logan says when their hands drop.

“Bye.”

Logan leaves, and Remy goes back to her dorm.

~~~

taglist below

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[tessxomarie]

Saving You - Part Seven

*TRIGGER WARNING: This scene discusses self harm as well as sexual assault. If you need to skip this part, please do so. Please remember if you or someone you know have suffered from sexual assault, there is a link for if you want to reach out: https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Also, if you’d like to message me to talk – I am always here to talk and listen!*

Things go from bad to worse. I promise, things will all fall into place after this part...just have to go through some ugly stuff to get those rainbows.

The 4th of July, a wonderful day in our country. We all get to eat unhealthy foods, blow shit up, drink and party to celebrate our independence. I started this holiday by working a 12-hour night shift. Kendra was walking in as I was walking out, she wasn’t on the clock until Noon, but someone was a no show and that girl is always about making an extra dollar.

It’s now 7:45am, I eat a bagel and drink some chocolate milk because deep down, I’m still a five-year-old at heart.

“Hey, I may be out of here at 3 but if that’s the case I’m going home to nap and I’ll just meet you at the clubhouse later on. I’ll be there for the fireworks.” Kendra texts me right before I go to bed for the day.

“Sounds good, love.” I text back and then I fall asleep.

It’s now 4pm, I literally slept all day - I must have needed it.

I wake up to a bunch of texts, a dozen from Kenz as she was bored at work. She did get off early but now she’s taking her own nap.

Coco texted me asking what time I was going to be there, mentioning Letty was going to be hanging around today and wanted me to keep her company at some point. Lastly, Bishop texted me saying he’s excited to see me.

I manage to get myself out of bed, I look at my mirrored closet and I’m disgusted with my current appearance.

“Jesus, did I go to rave in my sleep?” I ask myself as I survey the bird’s nest on my head. I take a rinse off shower and opt for the dry shampoo look as this is a simple clubhouse party; I’m not impressing anyone tonight.

“Do I try to go all Miley for this holiday or do I try to be the good wholesome All-American Girl?” I ask myself as I stare at my closet pondering life.

After a half hour of sitting in my towel and browsing social media, I opt for a red and navy light weight flannel, white tank and a pair of jean shorts, converse to complete this casual look - “I’m patriotic AF.” I say as I pose in my mirror.

As I’m go to do my hair, I notice my Claddagh ring on my dresser - the sparkle of the emerald is catching my eye, “Okay Grams, I’ll wear the ring. 4th of July is special, I guess.” I say to myself as I slip my ring on. 

I put my hair in a weak side braid, gather my purse, phone and the pasta salad I volunteered to bring because doesn’t every 4th of July party involve some sort of pasta salad? - and then I make my way out the door. 

I pull up to the scrapyard, and Chucky is directing traffic.

“Nurse Aleeah! I’m so happy to see you! Plus, you’re not here for work, that must be a first.” He says to me as he opens my Jeep door.

“Hey Chucky, I think you’re right - this just might be the first time I’ve been here not on nurse duty.” I say to him as he helps grab my pasta bowl and hands it to me. In the distance I hear shouting of some sort, I look over by the fighting cage and my favorite victims are already going at it.

“I may have spoken too soon.” Chucky whispers.

I look at Chucky and quirk a look, “I’m going to take care of this right now.”

I strut right over to the Reyes brothers, pasta salad bowl in hand and all.

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber, can’t we get along for one fucking day?” I shout.

Both boys look away from me, “Oh I’m sorry, was I interrupting? Was I being rude?” I say with sass.

“It’s fine, Lee.” EZ says and shrugs his shoulders looking at his brother. “Yup, we’re fine Leah.” Angel spits back.

Angel takes a step and walks briskly past me, but I’m not in the mood for that today.

“Hey, douchebag.” I holler going after him, which causes him to spin around as quickly as he started walking.

“What?” He spits again.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude towards me these last few days. All I do is save you time and time again, Angel. Don’t treat me like some biker slut when I ask how you’re doing - I fucking stitch you whole again and again, I think I’ve earned a little bit of respect; especially if you tell others I’m the only one you trust.” I end with a whisper.

“Who told you that?” He asks with a nervous look.

“You’re wonderful girlfriend.” I say with another attitude, and just as those words leave my tongue, he turns back and heads towards the clubhouse.

EZ then comes up behind me, “What EZ?” I ask in a grouchy tone.

“He and Adelita are done, broken up or whatever. That’s what he and I were discussing over there. I asked him where he’s been lately, and that’s when he said he told her he was done, and he left her a few days ago.”

I stare at EZ and back towards the Clubhouse with my jaw dropped.

He dumped her...why?

Is she going to come after him?

So many thoughts race through my mind.

“I need to get this pasta inside.” I stutter and before EZ can even respond, I’m on autopilot to the clubhouse.

I’m greeted by Gilly and Riz, Riz takes my pasta bowl and puts it on the table with the other dishes.

It’s already getting busy up in here, a lot of families are hanging around inside and it seems as they are prepping to take most of the party outside in the yard. “Remind me again, why the hell is the clubhouse the hosting spot this year?” I ask Gilly.

“Well, last year we may or may not have sparked a little fire at Bishop’s place, so it was that night he declared next year’s party would be held at the clubhouse and here are.”

“Ahh, I see. Nothing says independence like having a party with outlaws.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Leah.” Gilly jokes as he gives me a half hug.

“Aleeah!” I hear Bishop shout as he enters the room. “How are you, sweetheart?” He asks as he kisses my cheek.

“I’m good. Survived my night shift, slept all day, pasta salad was made and now I’m here.” I say with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re here and it’s not for medical reasons.” He says with a laugh.

“Shh, the night hasn’t even begun. There’s plenty of time for fuckery.” I say with a cautious smile.

I chat with a few of the guys for a few moments, I then see Angel emerge and our eyes lock.

The spark that was there, it’s gone now.  I so badly want to talk to him, but I don’t even know how to start a conversation with him without straight for a sassy comment.  

“Hey Bish, Oakland will be here in a little bit.” I hear Hank say from the bar.

I look over at Hank’s way and back at Bishop…Oakland...Erik...fuck fuck fuck.

“Oakland is coming?” I nervously question Bish.

“Oh yeah, some of them called asking what we were doing so I invited them down to join our big fiesta. It’s going to be great, right?” He says as he gives me another half hug.

I stand there frozen and I just nod my head.

Erik is coming. I just know it.

I reach for my phone and text Kendra. I know she’s still sleeping, but maybe I’ll get lucky. My nerves are now in high gear.

That is when Coco comes to my rescue for the time being. “Lee Lee!” He shouts as he comes in for a hug.

“Coco, how are you doing? Everything healing up alright?” I ask doing a once over.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good. Leg is a little sore, but I’m fine. Leticia is in the office, I had her finish up some filing shit – keeping her busy. She always enjoys chatting with you, so if you could go say hi to her, that would make me super happy.” Coco says with a small smile.

“Oh my gosh, of course Coco. I could use a distraction right now actually, so I’ll go visit her right now.” I say ready to head out the door but Coco holds me back, “Angel has been an asshole to everyone lately, don’t take it too personal, Lee. He broke it off with Adelita right after we got the clear to leave the clubhouse, I guess he’s taking it a little harder than he had planned.”

I wasn’t even referring to Angel, but the explanation does justify his attitude – it still isn’t acceptable.

“Thanks of the heads up.” I say with a small smile as I head out of the clubhouse and head to the office.

“Knock Knock.” I say as I slowly open the door to find Letty at the desk.

“Leah!” She says with excitement.

“How are you Letty?” I ask as she gets up and greets me with a hug.

“I’m alright, as you can see my dad is keeping me busy.” She tells me as she shows the piles of folders on the desk.

“He’s just keeping you safe.” I assure her.

“That’s what they keep telling me.” She says as she sits back down.

“So, how is everything going? I’ve heard EZ and Angel have kept you busy.” She says with a small giggle.

“Boys, nothing good comes from them.” I respond shaking my head. 

“I mean, some good things come from them.” Letty says with a wink.

“Jesus child, you’re not even legal to vote yet. Calm down.” I reprimand with a laugh.

Letty and I continue to catch up on life, she asks me a lot about the clinic and hospital.

I get lost in a daze and find myself snapping my ponytail on my wrist and then Letty snaps me out of it, “Leah are you alright?” She worriedly asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” I say with a flat face, still snapping my pony-tail.

“Can I ask you something?” Letty asks sharply, yet eagerly.

“Of course, shoot.”

“I don’t want to upset you or anything, I’m genuinely curious about this and that’s why I’m asking; why do you snap that pony tail holder so often? Is it like a therapy thing?”

I’m a bit taken a back by her words, only because I’ve never had anyone question the ponytail before.

“Huh, that is a good question, Letty. Umm, I guess there is no easy way to come out and say this so here it goes; I use to cut myself when I was around your age. I was one of those teens that used this as a stupid coping mechanism when my mom was too drugged out to give a damn, or when her drug dealer boyfriend would knock me around – the last time I cut myself was last year and that’s because I was hurt really bad. Before that, I think I was around 21 when I last cut myself. I snap the pony tail whenever I feel nervous or anxious, figured it’s safer to snap elastic than use a blade.” I say with some humor because I hate serious talks, they just never end well in my history.

Leticia just stares at my wrist and then up at me, “Fuck, Leah. I’m so sorry – I had no idea.”

“Oh no, don’t apologize. You asked, I wanted to give you a truthful answer.” I reply with a smile.

“So, the hair tie prevents you from making the choice to cut yourself?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. In rare moments when I’m not wearing one, it’s not for long. Just remember this, if you see a naked wrist for more than an hour,– that usually means something horrible happened and I’m being an idiot.”  

I leave Letty to finish up the work Coco had left for her.

As I walk through the yard, I see a lot more people are here. Women, their kids, other friends of the club are all here for a big 4th of July bash.

I see a few of the boys on the grill, prepping for the big feast. Everyone is smiling, laughing, music is playing; it’s perfect, in a very dysfunctional biker way.

I make my way to the door of the clubhouse and that’s when I hear a roar of bikes.

Oakland is here.

I rush inside as if it’s my safe zone.

I see EZ and Gilly by the pool table, Angel is on the couch with a few whores hanging on him. I go by EZ, I know he’ll keep me safe.

My stomach is in knots, as I know Erik is here. I haven’t seen him, but I just know it. I don’t want him to walk in here, but I almost want him to so I can get this over with.

Jesus, I need Kendra.

As I watch the guys play pool, I reach in my pocket for my phone so I can text Kendra yet again.

“When will you be here? I need you.” I type out and press send.

“I just woke up, I’ll be there in a little.” Kenz replies.

I let out a sigh, wishing my best friend would just hurry her ass up.

“Everything alright, Lee?” EZ asks as he heard my sigh.

“Yeah, I just want Kenz to be here already.” I admit.

“I think she’ll be here in a little.” He says.

“Oh will she now? You know her schedule now?” I tease. EZ just flashes me a big smile.

“Hey guys, food is ready!” Riz comes in and announces. Most of the crowd inside heads outside, some remain inside and snack on what is remaining at the table.

I opt to stay inside because no Oakland guys have come inside yet.

I’m safe.

EZ is still in here.

I’m protected. 

I do not have to be afraid.

I pick at my pasta salad, the nerves are still there.

You know that feeling you get when you just know something is about to happen, you just want that moment to happen and get over with already? That’s me, right now.

Just let Erik walk in, let me see him and then I can make my exit, I think to myself.

I get up to throw away my plate and that is when the clubhouse door opens and my stomach drops.

He’s here.

I look to the door, and a handful of the Oakland guys have now entered.

I’m about to head back by the pool table, but I see EZ heading towards the door.

“I’m gonna be outside for a bit, Kendra is coming now.” He informs me and then as quickly as he informed me, he’s out the door.

A handful of MC friends are now inside, and Angel, He’s at the bar.

I figure this is my chance, I can go make nice with him and use him as my distraction to keep Erik away.

“Hey Angel.” I say as I shimmy between the bar chairs.

“What do you want?” He spits.

“Can’t I just say hi?” I ask.

“Come on, Leah. That’s never the case with us, we never just say ‘hi’”.

He has a point, but I don’t have the time for his logic right now.

“Okay, I umm…I just wanted to talk to you, I first wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about you and Adelita and to also apologize for going off on her the last time we were all in here.”

Angel looks at me, I’m looking at the ground nervously and I feel his gaze on me. I slowly look up, and he’s searching for words.

Just as he’s about to say something, an arm snakes around my waist.

Erik.

“Aleeah, mami. Is this where you have been hiding? Why you hiding baby? You should be out there partying with everyone else.”

“Erik, leave me alone.” I say as I remove his arm from my waist, but he then places his arm there again.

“That’s not so nice, baby. Why you gotta be so rude?” He asks as he rubs my cheek, and I backhand his arm.

“Ooo, still feisty I see.”

“Erik, you’re being rude. Can’t you see I’m talking to Angel?” I motion.

“Oh, we’re done talking.” Angel interjects.

“Angel wait, we need to finish talking. Please, I’m begging you.” I plead as Erik’s grip on my waist gets tighter.

“I love to hear you beg, Mami. Come on, let’s take this party to the next room.” Erik says low, but it’s loud enough for Angel to hear.

“It appears you have someone else wanting your attention, Leah. Have fun.” He says as he walks away and that is when all hope of mine is gone.

I look around the clubhouse and there is not one familiar face around, and now Erik has tightened his grip on my wrists.

“That’s better.” He whispers in my ear.

“Erik, no. Please, please stop whatever this is. I’m not interested.” I beg as I try to push him off of me.

“You know the more you say no, or the more you beg for me to stop, it just turns me on more, baby. Come on, let’s have some fun. I need to show you what you missed out at the last party.” He creepishly says as he runs his finger along my jaw.

I can feel tears forming in my eyes, “No, Erik. Please, stop. Let’s go outside.” I try to suggest.

It’s then when he grabs my face and whispers in my ear, “Nobody gets to see what I’m about to do to you. That’s a private matter, mami. C’mon, lets go.” He says as he now his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

I want to scream, but I’m frozen in fear.

He then guides me to one of the rooms down the hall, I drag my feet but he then pulls my hair.

“Let’s go slut, I need to remind you of a few things.” He says as he closes the door. I try to scream but he slaps my face before a sound escapes.

“Don’t be stupid, Leah. Don’t fight me, baby.” He tells me as me touches my face and traces my body with his slimey fingers that makes my body quiver in the worst way.

“Erik, no. please, stop.” I beg as the tears start rolling down my cheeks.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

He’s holding my wrists so tight, I can’t move if I tried - I’m frozen.

I want to fight, I try to wiggle around him, I try to knee him, I try to hit him. That only results in more bitch slaps and hair pulls.

My poor effort to escape is fading, I almost wish he would just kill me instead, at least I wouldn’t have to relive this pain again.

I then hear a zipper unzip, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck.

It’s happening. Again. 

My worst nightmare is happening again, and I’m helpless. 

[heyscience]

If I Were Inquisitor - Ask Meme.

@batsintheshadows @tea-me-and-smut @foxywolfmeerkat13 @howling-at-night OMG THIS IS SO FUN YOU GUYS HOLY SHIT!! Thanks so much for writing yours, and I’m so stoked to finally share mine!

If you are reading this and want to give it a shot, please reblog the original post and I’ll send you an ask! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, I LOVE READING PEOPLE’S ANSWERS. THEY’RE ALL. SO GOOD!!!!

1. Race: I want to be a giant muscley mountain of a Qunari. I wanna be the very best, like no-one ever was, at smashing my enemies’ faces in and giving the best goddamn hugs there is. 

2. Class/Specialization: Two-handed Warrior/Champion. I like hitting things, and I love the idea of getting involved in all that pompous Orlesian chevalier bullshit and RUINING IT for ALL OF THEM.

3. Your homeland? It’s gotta be somewhere warm and by the sea (because I love the ocean and also I can’t deal with the cold cos I am WEAK), so I’m thinking Rivain. Ooh! And that would mean I’d have a bunch of sick tattoos and piercings! Rad.

4. Your family? (Ok so I’m basing this loosely off my irl family because they’re my best point of reference I guess????)

So, my family. I love them, but they’re a mess.

My Mum was the ideal Tamassran. A devout adherent to the Qun. She worked as a healer and was very well respected in her field.

That was until she met my Dad, who in short, looked at the Qun and was like ‘fuck this shit I’m out.’

Dad was a soldier and one day he was wounded in battle, ended up in the hospice where Mum worked, wooed her, and they ran away together to Rivain.

They had my brother and I and then realised that they’re actually polar opposites and it’s a wonder they were ever attracted to each other. They split up, re-partnered and had more kids. So I have a pile of siblings that I have varying degrees of blood relation with, but we all consider each other fully part of our extended, convoluted family (for serious - irl I have 9 siblings).

Mum taught me business sense and how to tend to battle wounds, Dad taught me how to fight. I’ve got a lot of family of various races all over Thedas, all related (not necessarily by blood) one way or another. People say lovely things about my Mum, and the craziest things about my Dad - the stories of his exploits are so outrageous it’s difficult to believe any of them are true (like irl my dad was involved in organised crime for a while but quit cos he got bored????).

I love my family but I’m really bad at keeping in contact with them, so I get the occasional letter from Mum being like ‘ARE YOU DEAD?!’

Leliana has taken to sending her reassuring updates preemptively.

5. Who were you before? I imagine I’d be part of something like a dnd adventuring party.

We started out as a ragtag group of misfits, travelling the land in search of gold and glory. It was mostly treasure hunting and mercenary gigs, and some of the work we did on the high seas was um, legal-adjacent (piracy). But occasionally we’d stop to lend a hand to those in need, pass ourselves off as bards to earn extra coin in small-town taverns, and we even involved ourselves in vigilante justice a couple of times.

We grew into our own little family, and eventually we found ourselves wanting to do the type of work that really mattered. That’s why we signed ourselves up to work security at the Conclave, with a plan to move into aiding refugees in Ferelden afterwards. It didn’t. Quite. Work out that way. Unfortunately.

6. Would you be religious? That’s a hard no.

7. Do you have a mabari? YES PUPPY! Who is also a fully fledged member of our adventuring troupe I might add.

8. Your opinion on other races? Elves = rad, dwarves = awesome, humans = eh, dragons?? = HELL YES

9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be? Stubby.

10. What would your tarot card look like? This one is hard! I’m thinking a lot of compass imagery (because the sea and travelling and finding your way etc.)...and I’d have to be facing at an angle that best accentuates my glorious biceps.

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold? I like to be in the centre of the action, but I’m not sure where that would be?? Probably in the main Skyhold courtyard near the entrance, in amongst the merchants? It’d be a good spot to see the comings and goings, check in with recruits and workers for the Inquisition, and also play with any kids who might be around. 

It’s important to make sure the kids of the Inquisition are happy and healthy and, um, ok Josie I’ll admit it, they’re also way more fun to hang out with than that stuffy noble whoeverthefuck you just brought in from Orlais.

12. What would you do for fun? Knock back beers in the Herald’s Rest with my companions, come up with dirty drinking songs with Sera, get blackout drunk with Dorian (although I’ll eventually realise it’s a very unhealthy coping mechanism and encourage Dorian to join me in cutting down the booze), swap stories and quality bants with Varric, beg Vivienne for fashion advice, gush over romance novels with Cass, have tea and gossip sessions with Josie, poke fun at Cullen, spar with the Inquisition recruits (and scare the shit out of them), and, just anything to distract from the looming horror that is Corypheus.

13. What armour would you wear? Heavy, shiny, and bloodstone red.

14. What would your room look like? Organised chaos. I love playing host so my room would look mostly neat, but the writing desk would be an absolute mess. It would probably make poor Josie hyperventilate (which is why I’d always suggest we discuss things in her office, or at least give me plenty of notice before swinging by my chambers so I can tidy up). 

15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold? I’d wanna be friends with pretty much everyone, but I think I’d be closest with Dorian (BUT of course only after giving him a solid scolding for his views on slavery, and I’d only continue talking to him if he came to his senses).

We have a very similar sense of humour, and. Oh man. I have way more feelings about this than I thought I would. In short - I can imagine both laughing with him and collapsing on the floor together with a bottle of wine (each) and many tears.

16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition? This makes me sad because my closest friends outside the Inquisition would be my adventuring party and they..would’ve...the Conclave...EVEN MY MABARI. MY POOR PUPPY. OH GOD WHY. TOO MANY FEELINGS.

17. Who wouldn’t you get along with? Cole. It’s not that I don’t like him, I’d just be super awkward around him, like ‘HELLO SPIRIT CHILD HOW ARE YOU TODAY. OH, IS THAT AN INSECURITY OF MINE YOU JUST POINTED OUT?! WELL COOL, GOOD TALK.’ 

18. Who would you romance? I know this isn’t possible in Inquisition but I would like to be in a polyamorous relationship with Isabela. SHE IS MY FICTIONAL SOULMATE OK.

(Also I’m more than a little bit in love with Cullen but I hate myself for it so)

19. Would you do pranks with Sera? AbsoLUTELY.

20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)? 100% YES. It’d only be an occasional thing tho, cos while I’m a masochist and I like being tied up I’m not really a sub. I’d mostly go to him for bondage tips and um. Requests for. Demonstrations.

21. Would you keep Cole around? Yes. I’d still be weirded out by him, but I acknowledge that it’s completely not his fault. I’d take his word for it that he just wants to help people and let him have at it with that freaky mind-reading and vanishing shit he does.

22. Can you play the game (politics)? A little bit. I’d have to work the scandal angle. Being a Qunari I could never hope to assimilate into the realms of the nobility, but I could win their favour by being something of a novelty. Much like Casanova in this brilliant adaptation starring David Tennant - watch from 10:42.

You see, you don’t have to be liked by everybody, just the right people, and you can usually get them onside by just being very fucking entertaining.

23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)? Ghosts. I’m not sure how well that translates to a Thedas setting but still, it’s my biggest fear so I’m sticking with it.

24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach? Mages.

25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars? Ok, so I have a proposal for how to fix this bullshit:  

1. The Chantry should relinquish any and all control over the affairs of mages. Separation of Church and State, simple as that.

2. The Templar Order should be disbanded, and the practice of indenturing soldiers by saddling them with a lyrium addiction should be banned.

3. All people in Thedas (and I mean ALL) should be taught about magic from a young age, both the gifts and dangers of its use. Everyone should learn about magical safety and how to resist demonic possession.

4. Mage children should attend the same schools as everyone else, but they can hone their skills in their late teens to early adulthood in mage colleges, with free tuition paid by the State (of wherever part of Thedas this is). They can research magic, learn a trade or train in combat, whatever they choose. Mages will be allowed to earn money, marry, have families, and have some actual freaking rights. None of this ��hunt ‘em down and lock ‘em up’ bullshit.

5. Also the Rite of Tranquility WHAT THE FUCK. I can’t believe it’s a thing people actually agree to do. This rite should be downright fucking outlawed, and severe penalties levelled at the people who attempt it.

26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why? Briala. I wouldn’t suggest to Briala that she should get back together with Celene, because honestly their relationship was really fucked up and Celene abused the power imbalance between them. Briala deserves better (like for example me..maybe...but y’know, only if she wants to..)

So I would keep Celene on the throne but hand over all real power to Briala. Celene is a crafty one however, so we’d have to corner her with blackmail and keep a hidden killswitch on hand in case she tries to pull a fast one on us (just like the Voltron kids should be doing with Lotor, which sorry, I know that isn’t related but I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT).

27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers? NEVER.

Seriously Fuck the Qun. The Qun actively promotes eugenics with how they selectively “breed” their people. ALSO the Qunari are gaslighted into believing that they will literally go insane if they don’t follow the Qun?!!!?!?!!??!??! FUCK THAT SHIT.

So yeah, I was never keen on the idea of allying with the Qunari, so when Gatt’s like ‘if you sacrifice the dreadnought there will be no alliance’ I’m like ‘I am ok with this.’ Also, of course, I love the Chargers with all my heart and couldn’t bear to lose them.

28. Would you go after Blackwall? Yeah. He should put all his moral posturing to good fucking use and try being an actual hero. I’d make him join the Wardens, cos it’s effectively a death sentence (or an early grave at least ) and I don’t 100% dislike him, so I know he’d be cool with it because he has a giant fucking hard-on for the Wardens (Jesus fuck). 

29. Would you drink from the well? Nnnnnoooooooooo..and it’s because I would fucking die for Morrigan. I wish I could say I have a well considered reason, but I’m just pathetic like that. She could say jump and I’d say ‘I’d rather not, but, counter offer - would you instead like to sit on my face?’ 

30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded? Minrathous. It’s warmer there (I love Skyhold but fucking hate the cold), and I would involve myself in the inevitable slave uprising - helping out in whatever way I can. Also I’d just be having a fucking great time terrorising the Magisters, rocking up at the Magisterium like ‘LOOKIT ME I’M A RAGING QUNARI HERE TO INVADE, RARRGHH!! oh hey Dorian, what’s up babe how’ve you been????’

31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god? The five stages of grief:

Denial - lol no ur not, you’re our painty pyjamas nerd! 

Anger - Wait, so it’s YOUR FUCKING FAULT MY FRIENDS AND EVERYONE ELSE DIED AT THE CONCLAVE??!?! I AM GONNA GUT YOU AND STRING YOU UP BY YOUR INTESTINES SO I CAN USE YOUR WEEDY BODY AS A GORE PINATA YOU FUCKING MONSTER 

Bargaining - but you’re a god right? Does that mean you can bring them back? Can you undo all this somehow? You gotta have superpowers or some shit right??!?

Depression - After all we’ve been through...you never even saw us as people, did you? Did you ever think of me as a friend? Or anyone else? How could you be ok with murdering your friends? Solas, please, you don’t have to do this. I know that if we work together we can find a better way. You don’t have to destroy the world to save it.

Acceptance - ..................I fUCKING HATE YOU SOLAS.

[nothingneverforever]

Never Have I Ever (2020)

Hey, I think this is my first TV series ‘review’ ever! Well I did do a basically empty post on Unforgotten (season 1) back in Feb 2017, promising to write properly my full feelings down, but that was something I never got back to. It’s still one of the best TV shows ever in the whole world, so hopefully I have time for it some day.

Anyway, meanwhile Never Have I Ever (NHIE), is… absolutely not good. At all….

I’d decided to watch it after seeing Mindy Kaling’s Late Night (2019), which was surprisingly enjoyable and moving even, and not just because Emma Thomson is one of my favourite celebrities in this world. It was a fun movie, and it felt different (from other similar films) ! I say it was surprising because I guess due to misogyny or something, I never thought I had reason to take Mindy Kaling seriously. And I am so sorry for it! There were parts of the script (Late Night) that worked out so, so well.

Back to NHIE! First, here are some synopses I’ve found online of the series:

-        The complicated life of a modern-day first generation Indian American teenage girl, inspired by Mindy Kaling's own childhood.

-        After a traumatic year, an Indian-American teen just wants to spruce up her social status - but friends, family and feelings won't make it easy on her

-        Episode 1: After recent trauma, Devi starts her first day as a high school sophomore determined to shake off old labels and finally become cool.

So I guess my first complaint about NHIE is a bone I could pick with just about any American production from the last, idk, 8 years. You know how when (for whatever reason) every single character is ‘awkward’ or ‘weird’ or sooo idiosyncratic in general, they just end up all being… almost exactly the same? Where all the over-used tropes, every character’s too-loud too-colourful unique defining traits just end up reading the same way, to me at least.  

Need all characters be so strong, really? Strong as in, overly sapid, full-bodied, clearly defined, distinct in a way that actually isn’t unique at all… I mean I’m not asking for more Jack Maliks (from Yesterday, as reviewed here by me) cos fuk dat guy omfg hate him and his dull ass lol but … do you know what I mean? When every character has traits that are so instantly recognizable, so clear to the plain eye without need for any nuanced observation or interpretation that you can almost like .. see the literal line of text in Courier font for the character description in the screenplay flashing before your eyes? Like of course as viewers we do want to feel like we have some grasp of the characters we’re investing in and relating to but I think if traits and personalities and mannerisms are so simplistic (even if they are diverse) that the characters themselves can ve perfectly summed up in a nutshell then that’s not a good thing at all.. I don’t know, it just seems a very American thing that I’m tired of, where there’s just a complete dearth of authenticity and complexity. Because no one in real life is ever sooooo distinctly themselves 100% of the time you know? Sure, I haven’t seen something specifically catered for teens in a while so maybe it’s just genre-specific thing but I do think there was so much more room for more realistic characters here.

Okay but still, 90% of all comments I have trawled through (facebook, Instagram, youtube) seem to be from American teens, talking about how relatable the show is so I guess high school teachers really be out there acting like caricatures of their TV trope selves and friends are all awkward af among each other and quirky at home and quirky on the streets walking home and quirky in the corridors of their school and exaggerate every reaction in every ordinary situation. But here’s the thing, I don’t think people are actually this way. I think many of them pretend that they are, act like they are. I think here lies the danger: where the more media we have portraying this kind of intensely saturated characters and personalities, the more young people will think that to be ‘themselves’, they have to raise the decibels of each and every trait of their own… I dunno if you understand me?  I think it’s an insidious feedback cycle not dissimilar to the manic pixie dreamgirl effect, not in how women’s quirkiness serves to bring out dormant sides of men but just in how people (especially girls because due to society-enforced insecurities are more susceptible to taking influence from popular role models) have to BE SO *INSERT ANY ADJECTIVE HERE* … I don’t know… it’s just inauthentic and tiring. So NHIE is okay, as long as it is makes clear that it’s caricaturizing different examples of how some people may act in different circumstances… but it doesn’t do this. Aiyah I know I’m making a huge deal out of what some people will obviously just take as entertainment and gags for laughs etc but… it’s annoying to me…

Okay

Next

So I’m not sure if you got this from the synopses I’d copied above, so, again: NHIE revolves around a nice girl, Devi (15), who lost her father (heart attack, in the middle of the school hall where he was watching Devi perform at her school orchestra concert) last year and is now starting a new year of school, coping with the incident by stifling every single traumatic memory. Also there are some random throwaways here and there about her having literally become physically disabled for 3 months after her father’s death where Devi lost the ability to use her legs (psychosomatic reaction to her loss) but it’s only ever joked at in insignificant ways so I guess… we shall never know that side of her grief? But all this (grieving over dead father, impersonal relationship with stern mother etc) is mere backdrop, joining other backdrop themes like being a shitty friend from start to end in unbelievably shitty ways etc – the main ‘plot’ instead is made up of Devi’s desperate quest to have sex with Paxton, a 16 year-old ‘hottie’ from school who she likes, erm, because, hot.

Yea that’s it…… that’s the critique. She’s a 15 year old girl whose everyday actions (for the most part) are calculated to lead up to her deflowering by her crush. Not to be a prude but… is this an okay storyline? Like are 15 year-olds legally allowed to have sex? Lol… Am I under any misconception about what teens all over the world get up to? No. Do I think that the law plays any useful role in preventing young girls and boys from sexualizing themselves and wasting their time on sexual pursuits when they can and should be developing literally any other interest and skill? No. Am I still unhappy that this was the main motivating factor for Devi to get up and out of her home each day, unhappy that for this reason (her goal of sleeping with Paxton), unhappy that because of this she morphed into the worst, most unreliable and unrelatable friend ever to her besties who needed her badly??? Yes!

Look, I’ve covered relevant topics in my 4 years of social work education to understand Devi’s actions as unhealthy, maladaptive coping behaviours – we see Devi exhibit behaviours / thoughts etc evocative of basically all 4 stages of the Kubler-Ross grief cycle, besides the final stage of acceptance: denial, anger, bargaining, depression. If we look at Virginia Satir’s coping stances instead, (different types of behaviours people exhibit when under stress), Devi again displays all 4 stances: super reasonable (i.e. over-rationalizing something so as to avoid confronting/acknowledging the emotional truth), irrelevant (distracting, changing the topic, inappropriate jokes), placating (self-explanatory)  and blaming (again, obvious). So basically, Devi does, says and feels anything and everything besides maturely coping with the loss of her father. Is this realistic? Yes! Does everyone work within their own timelines before finally coming to that final Kubler-Ross stage of acceptance? Absolutely! And I am not at all rushing Devi to act ‘normal’ or to display healthier coping mechanisms. I just wish the grief was handled so so so much better by Mindy Kaling and whoever else was involved in developing this story - this story that is honestly full of promise. In other words, how Devi fails to handle her grief could have been written so much better, so much deeper instead of her failings itself being the central form of entertainment for much of the 10 episodes.

Anyway, also, besides it being morally not okay for a 15 year-old’s thirst for sex to be an accepted plot point (accepted on- and off-screen I mean), the actors playing Devi and Paxton are 10 years apart in age. Devi (reminder: age 15 on-screen) is played by a lovely actress who is currently 18, and Paxton is played by someone who is currently 29. So like….. she would likely have been 17 at the time of shooting? That’s just not okay and I don’t think I need say more lol. Shit like this, miscasting your key heartthrob, is just so… cheapo and so late 90s/early 2000s you know where the actors are so so clearly adults playing high schoolers, it’s just… cheapo af and absolutely inexcusable now.

Okay, everything up to this point in my ‘review’ has just been small here-and-there thoughts I had while watching it, and I’ve dedicated fluffy paragraph after paragraph on them so as to delay speaking about my main issue with the series: how the central trauma is dealt with... insomuch as it isn’t, at all.

And I’m not just saying this as someone who’s fresh off having just re-watched A Single Man, because they are obviously intended as very different works and intentionally made of (made with?) very different calibers but there are, surely, much much better ways to handle grief than what we are given with NHIE where Devi tries her darnest to have sex with her dreamboat bae. Okay so early in the series (second episode), Devi actually does get with Paxton in his garage after propositioning him (by ambushing him outside school after he finished swim practice or something), but when he takes off her shirt she’s like ok nvm I cant have sex now bye. So yea, it doesn’t happen. But it continues to be her main source of distraction from her grief, so it does remain a central plot point. Anyway the therapist character in NHIE is a joke, full of age-old TV-therapist lines like “So how do you feel about that?” etc, other platitudes and hollow-isms. She does try to tell Devi that it is not in her interest to be putting her sense of self worth on being “bangable” (I do believe this was the exact word used, cant be bothered to find the exact minute in the speicifc episode but yea trust that Devi and her therapist are candid with speaking about her plans for deflowering and Devi is never willing to talk about anything else but), but … I don’t know, Devi’s schtick gets tiresome, not because I’m neuronormative and want to see more normal behavior from the dear girl or because I’m annoyed with how badly she’s handling her grief, but more because of how badly they (writers, producers whoever etc) are handling it.

Like, up till the very end, we see her irrelevant stances or proof of her denial as fodder for lame jokes and utterly cliché dialogue, in what should be a genuine and ‘real’ scene. It’s annoying!! See below for screencaps from slightly over halfway through the FINAL episode of the series - in other words, way, way too late for a joke to be made out of how Devi resorts to the same poor coping mechanisms in distracting from her grief. I’ve screenshotted only parts of the convo, leaving out the parts where this serious convo turns into a joke about Eleanor, that itself pretends to be deep and serious but it isn’t at all...?

Devi’s friends confront her about the most serious thing in the entire series (her needing to go down to her beach to meet her mom to scatter her dad’s ashes, something she hitherto has rejected as she is unable to face this final step in accepting his death but masks with more irrelevant excuses), and she’s still coping poorly by ‘deflecting’, as her friend rightly says. I don’t know about you, but this was not a scene I needed jokes in at all.

But then, like… suddenly…. Immediately after this she starts crying and everything is good for the first time and there is acceptance within her and some semblances of healing of the fractures in her relationship with her mom etc… I dunno, it’s just not cathartic at all, because Devi hasn’t been given enough of a journey at all. The 0 to 100 thing doesn’t work here because it’s not satisfying (for us) or realistic (for Devi) at all.

Re: the grief, I dunno, if we look at another, equally popular Netflix production, The Haunting of Hill House comes to mind. Yes, obviously not at all a meaningful or fair comparison to make but again, if it’s about a family dealing with grief and loss, why can’t we expect that NHIE carry the same gravitas? In Hill House, we see our characters fumble and lash out and ‘pop off’ (a term used in NHIE which I found strangely out of place) at one another, often, but never are manifestations of their grief, never are clear mishandlings of their grief on display for our entertainment in the form of laughs or ‘cringe’ purposes. It’s just...not everything has to be funny you know? Even if it’s a teen show. I think there are ways, subtle ways, expert ways for something to be serious without at all needing to be heavy.

Again, like my gripe with the childish and/or cheap caricatures of human personalities which would be okay if this series was clearly presented as light entertainment to fill gaps in one’s day, not handling the trauma and grief could (perhaps) be overlooked if it didn’t pretend that it would in fact handle it. But everyone’s discussing the show as if it genuinely was an incredible take on dealing with loss and trauma, as if it’s contributed significantly to understandings of how a young, beautiful lovely ‘normal’ schoolgirl can live and learn through extreme trauma… BUT THE SHOW DOESN’T DO THIS LIKE IT LITERALLY DOESN’T AT ALL I FUCKING SWEAR…. Please watch all 10 episodes and show me even just ONE minute where we come full circle from anything, where Devi grows through her pain and where her journey is developed over more than just literally the last 7 minutes of screentime in the very last episode of the entire series. And I’m also seeing soooooo many comments from people who have enjoyed the series mention how fun and lighthearted it was, how comfortable they are to categorize the series as comedy and how great a time they had binge-watching it. But… it’s not funny? Like it’s really not lol… Devi is dealing with a most painful, urgent grief, having lost her father tragically a year before (and having to see him go before her very eyes). Her denial, her various-aforementioned-unhealthy-coping-mechanisms-and-maladaptive-behaviours made for painful watching for me. It shouldn’t be funny for us to see her abandon her friends when they most needed her; it shouldn’t be fun to see her lash out at her mom and dream of Paxton shirtless, these shouldn’t be comedic externalities of her situation at all. Does this mean I want an utterly dour, extremely humourless NHIE instead? Not at all! I just wish scenes / examples of her mishandling her grief were not the same ones that are supposed to make us laugh and think that everything is light and fun. Like, we can have other funny scenes featuring Devi instead you know? Things that aren’t actually incredibly harmful to her psyche.

ANYWAY

Some positives, cos I did enjoy this stupid series lollll and I did cry and I did laugh and I did look forward to watching it every evening while I exercised, okie? :)

There is one honestly genius thing that I like, where the genius lies in its utter randomness. The series (save for one episode which I will not talk about cos I don’t really give a shit about Andy Samberg and whoever his inclusion was pandering to) was narrated by John McEnroe, who, er, apparently is a well-known American tennis player. The only tennis player I know is Andre Agassi because for some reason in 2016 I borrowed from the library and read cover-to-cover his autobiography omg actually why on earth did I even do that lol I must have read somewhere that it was good perhaps? Anyway it is still recognized as one of the most ‘interesting’ or iconic sports autobiographies of all time so. But yea John McEnroe who?? He (John) is mentioned here and there as having been Devi’s late father’s favourite tennis player – which still does nothing to explain how and why he is narrating the whole series, which is great! I do enjoy the no-attempt-made to connect the fact of his narration to anything in the plot. But it’s not done in an annoyingly absurdist way either, you know? It just it what it is. I mean I guess if I’d written the screenplay which was in part autobiographical, I’d too love to have LeBron James or Megan Rapinoe narrating it, just because!

Ultimately, I think we must all acknowledge how fucking epic it is for Mindy Kaling to be where she is today. That Netflix approached her and asked for a story from her heart, drawing from her own life, and gave her the boundary-less freedom to write what she wanted is cool. She may not be the voice I think teens (or any audience really) may most need but they certainly do want this voice – NHIE is so so so loved and appreciate across the board – by adults, kids, diasporic Indian girls, normal non-minority-race girls etc, with everyone calling (begging) for another season, and anyway Mindy Kaling is probably about 1000000x better anyway than others who have been granted the same stage and presence as her before, like, I dunno, Michael fucking Bay or fucking James Cameron so yay her !!! For the sake of us all!

--------

update, a few hours later:

so since forcing Jade to read my post the second it went up, i have learnt that:

So there goes the one singular uniquely cute thing I did appreciate about NHIE then i guess, seeing as his random feature throughout the series isn’t unique at all... seeing as unexpectedness makes for a predictable part of his record, it is no longer charming to me.  lol bye!

[unicornninjabitch]

Me, sliding in with a slushee: sup I’m sad my dudes

Followers: we know and your poor attempts at humor aren’t a funny or good coping mechanism so just get on with it

Me, slurping my slushee: alright then I’ll ramble for a little bit

So I think I’ve lost weight recently, which I’m not super shocked by cause I just don’t eat alot and without someone asking me if I wanna get food I can easily forget to eat for like days at a time, plus I just tend to lose/gain a few pounds pretty easy. I just generally have a small appetite and I don’t really like eating by myself. I’ve pretty much always had issues with my body and weight and eating and food and stuff, I mean since I was a kid I’ve had troubles with this shit and I still do but it’s different now. When I was younger I just wanted to be “pretty” and get attention from people and have people see me as desirable/lovable/fuckable cause that would give me worth and the the only way to get those things was to get skinnier and be more attractive. Now I don’t think that way and I don’t put all my worth into other people’s views of me, but there’s other parts of me that still desperately crave for a flat tummy and a thigh gap and my collar bones to poke out and to just e small. Logically I know that’s almost impossible for me and it would be insanely unhealthy for me to be that thin, but there’s still parts of me that would kill for it. Plus I naturally have a smaller waist and its much more noticeable when I lose weight cause of how I hold fat I guess, so I have this huge like constant internal fight where it’s like Skinny vs Less Girly Figure and it’s kinda exhausting. I mean I really don’t want to constantly hate my body and I wish I could just be okay with what I have, but I’m not. For fucks sake I got to the point where now I don’t like even being near scales like I know if a scale says a number I don’t like I’ll feel like I’m not allowed to eat or I’m disgusting. And logically I know I’m not as big as I think I am like I know at most I’m kinda chubby, but another part of my brain only sees myself as some weirdly shaped baby whale who shouldn’t be allowed to eat because it needs to be smaller. Like as a whole once I came out as trans I kinda became more okay with my body weight wise, but every so often I’ll lose/gain weight and notice it in the mirror and have my Skinny vs Less Girly Figure and I just wish it would stop. I just wish there were one day where I could look in a mirror and say, “Hey I don’t hate who’s looking back at me”, but I can’t right now and I don’t know when I’ll be able to. I’m scared I’ll never be able to. I mean the idea of getting weighed at the doctors gives me so much fucking anxiety and makes me so uncomfortable. Like I would ask that they didn’t say it out loud and I look anywhere except the numbers cause I know no matter what it says if I don’t suddenly and magically like my body then I will 100% fall back into unhealthy patterns and I mean back in freshman year of high school I got like obsessed with it. I weighed myself almost everyday and I refused to eat more than x amount of calories and I let it basically consume me and dictated every part of my life. Don’t get me wrong I’m still overly critical of my body and the food I eat, I don’t think I’ll ever really love my body, I still have a bad relationship with food (if that even makes sense), and I still care way too much about my weight, but I do try to be better.

Also I’ve said before going from where everyone called me Alex to home where very few people even know I’m trans has been super hard on me and yeah that shit hasn’t gotten easier. Though I’ve kinda gotten used to it. Like I know I can’t be sad all day everyday cause of being deadnamed and misgendered all the time, but the getting used to it bothers me alot. Like hearing my deadname/deadnaming myself or whatever and it makes me uncomfortable, but it’s like I’m getting a resistance to it which for some reason makes me feel like I’m some how faking everything and it doesn’t help when I feel dysphoric or whatever. Like somedays I half regret coming out just because like I mean t and surgery-and fuck just legally changing my name seem so far away so like what’s the point, you know? Like it feels like no one will ever see me as a guy and some days it’s hard for me to see me as a guy so why the fuck do I bother? Why couldn’t I just get comfortable in the very back of the closet and just stay put? I mean it feels like coming out and all the anxiety that came with it was for nothing. Maybe it’s just that I’m still feeling some kinda way about how coming out went and how my mom still calls me her daughter or whatever, but I mean it all feels like it was pointless. I mean it feels like I’m on my way to just being a statistic and I wish I didn’t feel that way- god I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I do. It feels like in a few years I’m just gonna be a number about suicides or something. And there are some days/nights where if I could muster up the willpower to stand up I’d go back to cutting up my wrist, but I’m either that depressed or that tired from trying to convince myself that things will eventually somehow be okay that I don’t and I hate that my depression is what keeps me from going back to cutting myself. I really, really, really fucking wish I weren’t this sad and I wish I could wave a wand and be okay, but I can’t.

And my dysphoria has been just generally awful lately in like a bunch of ways. There’s the constant reminder in my chest and pants that’s slowly been driving me insane and a growing rate and there’s thinking I’m only allowed to date bi/pan people but at the same time feeling like I’m not man enough for anyone and there’s stupid shit that almost always makes me feel like “hey maybe mom was right maybe this is just a phase”. Which is fucking ridiculous cause I tried to wait it out like 3 different times and it never goes away and I mean now the idea of ever wearing a bra/dress makes me want to like hide under my bed or something. I know this isn’t a phase or me trying to be a *~special snowflake~* so how come I always go back to thinking that. Like my mom calling me my deadname or her daughter, obviously I got to grow thicker skin cause I can’t be in a constant state of like one foot off the room, but because I’m getting used to it and it’s taking longer for it to bother me I feel like I’m now faking shit. And I know it’s just me trying to protect myself, but it still bothers me I guess. I mean my mom’s reaction really fucked me up. Like instead of coming out on insta/snap I just deleted them and started new ones. I went back to my old therapist and I’m not even out to her cause I’m so scared of her reacting like my mom and I get scared literally everyone ever will react like my mom. I mean Thanksgiving I avoided my sister and yelled over her because I was so scared that my dad’s family would like yell at me or something and that would make my brothers/dad/step mom be like “Oh!! Yeah!! We were dumb you ARE just a silly little girl” and I couldn’t handle that. And idk a part of me wishes I was angrier at her or something, but another part says I should’ve saw this coming cause when I first started questioning my gender I brought it up to her cause I used to tell my mom everything and she seemed mad that I even thought I maybe wasn’t cis.

I don’t know I feel like I repeat myself in these a lot, but I don’t really know I was just feeling really sad and had to get some shit out I guess

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Hi! Do you think you can do a Jughead sickfic where he's sick at school and refuses to acknowledge that he is sick when it's obvious to everyone else? Sorry that the request is so general, but if you can do something that would be great and if you can't I totally understand. You're an amazing writer, keep it up!!!!

(First of all anon you are honestly the sweetest???

When life constantly throws obstacles and hardships at someone, that someone tends to grow a thick skin. However, a certain degree of care afterwards must be performed because at the end of the day, people are still human. Humans get hurt and weary.

Jughead tended to ignore the scratches and wounds that life gave to him, because processing everything that’s happened to him would surely drive him insane. If he for one second truly take in the harsh reality of his life, he wasn’t sure if he could put himself back together again. He developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of brushing things off and pretending wounds weren’t there, if he didn’t just laugh it off.

The same method applied to his physical health. If he had just elected to pretend it wasn’t there, everything would be fine.

The last thing Jughead needed was to get sick.

The past week had been far far too much for him. Jughead rarely ever cried, and this week he had cried 8 times that week already.  Nothing good seemed to come from that week. Of course, Fred Andrews was kind enough as to let Jughead stay with them long term, until at least FP could get out of jail. The way things were looking, that wouldn’t be for a very long time.

It really had been a hectic week, and Jughead’s crappy body of course could not handle it. It wore him down, until he woke up sick with a fever and a stuffy nose.

Jughead hadn’t even been in school for quite a while. After Homecoming, he had turned up once and literally forced out of school. He had missed days due to police interrogations and the like, and when he was granted back access to the school, Fred forced him to stay home for a mental health day. Needless to stay, he was really behind in all his classes.

Jughead could not afford to miss another day of class. He wasn’t exactly straight A student Betty Cooper. Which was the reason Jughead began to drag his sick, weary body out of bed and to school.

“Is Jughead still not awake?” Fred commented as he watched Archie nearly finish his bowl of cereal.

“I’ll go–oh,” Archie stopped himself as Jughead shuffled into the kitchen. He was fully dressed in his usual S T-shirt, dark jeans, loose suspenders, worn out converse, messy dark curls peeking out of a grey knotted beanie and denim jacket combo, but he looked awful.

“Woah, you okay sport?” Fred blinked, taking in Jughead’s pale face and dark circles. The kid looked behind exhausted. However sickness was not even on Fred’s radar, he just thought Jughead had yet another fretful sleep.

Archie frowned as his friend sat down next to him and poured the milk into his waiting bowl of cereal, “You not get enough sleep?”

Jughead smiled at him weakly, “Yeah, that’s it. I’ll be fine though.”

Fred frowned, “You sure you should go to school today? I can ring..”

“No, Mr Andrews, thank you though. I’m fine, honestly. I need to catch up,” Jughead insisted, his voice giving out by his last sentence, sounding strained and obviously painful. He cleared his throat and coughed lightly into his elbow.

“Hm, okay,” Fred said reluctantly, glancing at Archie briefly as if to tell him to keep an eye on Jughead.

Archie eyed his friend worriedly, but sighed and gave in. He finished up his bowl of cereal and waited for his friend to finish so they could head to school.

Jughead and Archie were pretty silent the walk to school. Both of them had their headphones plugged in, listening to different music.

Archie could faintly hear light sniffling mixing in with Daughter’s “Youth” he was listening to. He yanked out the headphones off of his ears, the melody abruptly stopping as he looked over at Jughead.

Jughead rubbed at his nose lightly, putting his hand down when suddenly he was involuntary inhaling sharply. He raised his elbow to his face, turning away from Archie and sneezing two, tired sounding sneezes. Once he recovered he lowered his arm, giving one sniffle then continued on listening to his music, like nothing had happened.

“You’re sick!” Archie accused, stopping.

“No I’m not,” Jughead said casually, a little boredly even.

Archie was a little taken aback, tongue-tied. He was at loss for words. Normally Jughead was a lot more defensive about his sickness denial, and this lack lustre, “just another day” attitude was working. Archie felt a little intimidated, realising Jughead was improving at his denial tactics and he would have to start forming a new strategy against him. He pouted to himself for a few seconds, because he had just gotten a hang of calling Jughead out of his bullshit.

Once Archie got over himself he stopped again, “We are turning around and going home.”

Jughead smirked at him, “What? Tell your dad I sneezed and I have to stay home? C'mon Arch, it’s a natural bodily function–some particles in my nose that needed to be expelled, probably.”

Archie glared, “Jughead Jones, I know what you are doing! Don’t think I don’t know your evil, scheming plan..”

Jughead looked playful, “It just appears you want to miss school because of that math test you have.”

Archie groaned, sulking, finally giving in and continuing their walk to school.

Jughead had finally managed to get Archie off his back when he went off to do some music stuff with the Pussycats, and he felt relieved. He made his way through the crowd of people, trying to reach his locker. Once he arrived, he started to unlock it when suddenly someone was pulling his beanie off.

Jughead groaned quietly, turning his head around to face Reggie Mantle with an annoyed look on his face.

The victorious, playful grin on Reggie’s face instantaneously faded once took in Jughead’s sickly appearance. He frowned and carefully replaced the beanie clumsily onto Jughead’s messy dark hair.

“Uh..sorry dude, you got a cold?”

Jughead rubbed at his pink nose and shook his head, “No? Didn’t know where you got that idea?”

To further debunk that statement, an irresistible itch began to gnaw at his throat. Irritated tears pricked at his eyes, as a brief but harsh coughing fit tore its way out of his throat and into his now surely germ infested jacket sleeve.

Reggie pressed his lips together and pulled out a packet of cough drops from his jeans and pressed them onto Jughead’s palm, “Sure thing, beanie baby. Uh..welcome back and..don’t die I guess.”

Reggie stalked off into the crowd quickly, not even giving Jughead the chance to protest. He quickly unwrapped one and popped the drop into his mouth, pocketing the rest of the pack and silently praising all the deities for Reggie Mantle. Jughead breathed in shakily, discreetly pressing the back of his hand against his forehead to check his own temperature.

He frowned at the intensifying heat, hoping today would go by as soon as possible. He breathed in heavily, bracing himself for the day.

The reason Jughead had decided to brave through the day and get his sick ass out of bed was so he could catch up with school, and now he couldn’t even hear what the teacher was saying because of his fever. Jughead was seriously regretting his decision because now his little sacrifice was worth nothing. He still couldn’t just admit that he was sick, so he continued on with his little charade.

Jughead squinted, hoping his vision would focus and stop fading in and out so he could stop feeling so nauseous and generally unwell. He was focusing so hard on trying to concentrate he didn’t even notice a sneeze building up and creeping up on him, until it was too late.

He had barely managed to cover his face with his arm, causing Veronica to look over sympathetically. “You’ve got yourself a really bad cold, haven’t you?” She sighed.

Jughead sniffled and shook his head, voice contaminated with congestion, “Huh? No, I haven’t.”

Veronica blinked incredulously, “..uh, babe, you are very sick.”

Jughead shook his head calmly, “I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not sick.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, “Um, Jughead..the whole world can see you’re–”

“Lodge!” The teacher yelled.

“Sorry,” She apologised quickly, sparing an exasperated glance over at Jughead quickly, before he shrugged at her and gave her a small, reassuring smile.

She sighed in frustration and turned frontwards again and got back to the lesson.

Betty released a sigh of relief as the bell rang, commencing the beginning of lunch time and thus dismissing her from her absolutely boring History class. She was already so done with today, and just wanted to eat and hang out with her friends.

She got up from her seat and left the classroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom. Once she had finished, she made her way towards the Blue and Gold office as she had left her lunch there earlier that morning.

As she neared the door of the office, she could faintly hear a chorus of congested sounding coughing from within. She raised her eyebrow in suspicion, and slowly opened the door to reveal Jughead resting against one of the chairs, shaking violently.

Jughead’s eyes widened as Betty’s figure formed in his vision, jolting straight so he was no longer slumped weakly against the chair, trying to stop his shivering, “Betty! Hey! How are you?”

Betty raised her eyebrow at the rough edge of Jughead’s lowered voice, taking in his sickly features and frowned when she came to her conclusion, “Awh, Jug..you’re not looking so good. How’re you feeling?”

Jughead shook his head defensively, “I feel fine. I was just going to get a head start on the article..”

Betty shook her had furiously, “No way! For one you’re sick, and for two you need to rest! It’s been a tough week.”

Jughead stood up, hoping to prove his point but swallowed as a wave of nausea hit him from standing up, his entire frame racked with shivers, “Im okay, Betty. Really! I don’t even know why you’re so concerned when I feel great.”

Betty sighed deeply, “Jughead..”

“I’m fi–” Jughead cut himself off as he inhaled involuntarily, quickly turning away to harshly stifle three sneezes into his arm,  naively hoping Betty wouldn’t have noticed.

“Bless you,” Betty said softly.

“I didn’t sneeze!” Jughead insisted.

Betty looked incredulous.

“C'mon, Betty, lets go to the cafeteria or something,” Jughead pressed, making a move to exit the office when Betty wedged herself in between. She crossed her arms, face stern, as firm and resilient as she could be.

“Jughead Jones, you are not leaving this room. You are going to sit your sick ass down on that chair and relax.”

Kevin sat down at their usual table already inhabited by Archie and Veronica at the cafeteria, his face scrunched up in worry and concern. He looked a little spooked even, like he had just seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong Kev?” Veronica asked.

Kevin shook his head, “Its just..have you guys seen Jughead today? He looks awful.”

Archie rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, “I keep trying to call him out on it, he’s so obviously sick it’s painful. I’ve tried to coax the truth out of him secretly by blessing him whenever he sneezes but he just acts like he didn’t sneeze at all?? It’s so frustrating.”

Kevin nodded in agreement, “Like he was just staring at nothing the whole time during Geography, like his cheeks are so red with a fever but he’s shaking so much?? The teacher asks him if he’s alright and he starts explaining the key features of an OS map.”

Veronica couldn’t help the laugh forcing its way out of her, trying to stifle the sound earning a glare from Archie.

“What?! That’s hilarious!” Veronica protested.

She sighed, “Yeah okay, it’s hilarious but it is concerning. Was he sick this morning? How’d he get sick?”

Kevin spoke up, “He got sick through a culmination of the infamous shitty Jones immune system and all the shit he’s been going through lately. I mean, that’s gotta be rough for his body, right? Speaking of which..”

Kevin’s voice lowered into a more soft and sympathetic tone, “How’s he holding up?”

Archie sighed sadly, “Not good. He isn’t sleeping, he’s having really bad panic attacks, he doesn’t even eat as much as he normally would.”

Veronica widened her eyes, “Jesus.”

Archie nodded, “Exactly! We didn’t even realise he was sick this morning because he’s been this dull the whole week. If only we could just tackle him down and get him to admit he’s sick.”

Veronica nodded in agreement, “This is frustrating. Where is he, anyways?”

Kevin pulled out his phone as it beeped, quickly scanning through his new text, “Uh, I got the answer to that.”

He raised his phone up so that the two could see what the text said.

Betty Cooper: Kev Jughead is super sick and he’s not admitting it so I’m trying to trap him in the blue and gold office hurry please I can’t hold him in here by myself

“C'mon, lets go get them,” Veronica announced, standing up and heading for the office.

The three friends managed to arrive at the Blue and Gold within two minutes of Betty sending the text; and when the Kevin opened the door to reveal the sight, Jughead looked even worse than he already was.

He was convulsing violently, arms wrapped around himself to try and provide himself with some warmth. His nose was rubbed raw, an angry shade of red and his cheeks were the same shade of red, flushed from a fever. His eyes were watery and bleary, face ghostly pale, highlighting his dark circles.

Betty was hovering over him, trying to feel for his temperature but Jughead was ducking away defensively, clearly not wanting her to feel his forehead. Betty sighed in frustration, trying to get a grip on his forehead but Jughead would only inch away from her, lightly swatting at her hand.

“Oh my god, Forsythe! If you’re really ‘not sick’ Just let me feel your forehead!” Betty exclaimed impatiently.

Jughead opened his mouth to protest but widened his eyes as he caught sight of his other friends. He instinctively straightened and cleared his throat, brushing messy curls out of his face.

“Wh..” Betty turned around to face her friends, and let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god you’re here! Help me hold him down!”

“What?!” Jughead exclaimed, voice cracking and hoarse. Quickly, he turned away from her to stifle a sneeze into his shoulder.

While his guard was down Veronica rushed over and pinned him down in place so he wouldn’t duck away. Jughead squirmed, leaving Kevin and Archie at awe from Veronica’s display of great strength.

Betty pressed the back of her hand against Jughead’s forehead and frowned deeply at the result, “Jughead! You are burning up!”

Jughead shook violently, teeth chattering but shook his head all the same, “No I’m not!”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “C'mon Jughead, you’ve lost this battle. C'mon and admit it.”

Jughead shook his head childishly, crossing his arms and pouting. He sulked in the chair for a little while, still shaking and shivering.

“Awh, you actually look kinda cute when you’re sulking,” Betty giggled.

Archie sighed deeply and took off his Varsity jacket, grabbing at Jughead’s arms and putting the way too big jacket on him.

“Archie! It’s huge!” Jughead whined, stretching his arms out which were engulfed by the jacket sleeve to prove his point. However, despite his complaining he couldn’t complain about the warmth and comfort the jacket brought him.

Archie smirked, “Well I’ll take it back then.”

Jughead pouted, “No!”

The rest of the group erupted into laughter.

“You can keep the jacket if you admit you’re sick,” Kevin suggested.

Jughead huffed, “I–I..”

He sighed deeply and pouted, looking away in embarrassment, “Yes. Yes I am sick.” He sneezed into the soft fabric twice to prove his point.

Jughead curled up into the chair, snuggling up into the oversized but comforting fabric of Archie’s jacket. He closed his eyes exhaustedly, only then letting his guard down and showing how weak he actually felt.

“Yeah, I don’t..feel great,” Jughead mumbled.

“We know sweetie,” Veronica said softly, sitting down on the chair next to him and gently caressing his dark hair.

Archie smiled softly, “I’m glad you told us. I’ll go to the nurses and call my dad, you’ll be home soon.”

Jughead managed a soft smile, “Y-yeah..h-home.”

[macabrres]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

TAGGED BY: i cannae remember

━━ FULL NAME: Unknown legal name. Colloquially known as “Zero” throughout the slums of Nohr, although that was nothing more than a monicker. He chose the epithet “Niles” when taken under Lord Leon’s wing. ━━ GENDER & SEXUALITY: Trans Male | Greyromantic / Leaning on the asexual spectrum. ━━ ETHNICITY & SPECIES: Nohrian | Human ━━ BIRTHPLACE & BIRTHDATE: Slums of Nohr | April 22nd ━━ RELATIONSHIP STATUS: I guess. 

━ GUILTY PLEASURES: I don’t even know what sorts of hobbies Niles would have let alone ones he’d be ashamed of. It’s remarkably hard to get him to feel guilt over any of his interests, so...idk. Later in life ( ie., after marriage and having kids and all that jazz ) he probably really really likes certain kid’s books. ━ PHOBIAS: Abandonment. Attachment. Uselessness. Falling back into depravity. To a much lesser extent, death. Loss of loved ones; having loved ones to lose. ━ WHAT THEY WOULD BE FAMOUS / INFAMOUS FOR: Infamous throughout the slums for running with a band of ruthless thieves as a child. Known across Nohr as a wanted man; it’s a title he hardly bears with pride. ━ WHAT HAVE THEY / WOULD THEY HAVE GOTTEN ARRESTED FOR: Murder. Theft. Torture. Breaking and entering. Bribery. Assault. Prostitution. Procurement of illegal weapons, substances, etc.   ━ CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM: Everyone should murder Niles at least once. Charlotte is probably first on that list, though. ━ FAVORITE BOOK GENRE: Crime. Tragedy.  ━ LEAST FAVORITE BOOK CLICHE: Robin Hood. He doesn’t believe in honourably thievery; the criminals he knew were all cut from the same cloth.

━ TALENTS AND / OR POWERS: Keen observational skills; very intelligent; skilled with a bow despite only having one eye; a good interrogator; loyal; shrewd; resourceful.  ━ WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Niles is brutally honest and would never sacrifice integrity for the sake of someone’s feelings. Although he tends to embellish the truth about himself and his past, he will always offer up an unbiased opinion for those who ask or require his judgement. He is also ferociously loyal to the select few whom he cares for. Towards his lover, he is compassionate and considerate, and always defaults to their best interest and safety above all else. He’s also a shrewd and fair man, when given the chance; he apologises for misjudging others, or for assuming their characters too quickly. Once one gets past the harsh facade and acerbic tongue, he can be very protective and sweet. ━ WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: Why Wouldn’t someone hate Niles. He’s quick to jump the gun, he presumes that most other people haven’t had a hard life; he actively pushes people away because he doesn’t understand how to formulate connections with human beings. He lashes out, he’s cruel, he’s rarely compassionate or empathetic; he doesn’t understand loss, so he can’t sympathize with those who desire it or need it. He’s short tempered, proud in certain regards, unkind, callous, and if you can’t pick up on the fact that he makes innuendos and speaks so cruelly so to defend himself, it’s doubtful that you’ll get along. His emotional walls seldom fall for anyone, and he doesn’t care whose feelings he hurts. Niles also vies to make everyone around him uncomfortable, and feel just as rotten and filthy as he himself feels. He is designed to push boundaries and make people question why they’d ever offer such a terrible person kindness or consideration. Not to mention how envious he is of other people; he’s bitter and cynical and all around nasty and unpleasant. There are very few people who could actually overlook all that to see the hurting man behind it all. ━ HOW THEY CHANGE: Niles maintains unhealthy coping mechanisms. He represses most of his trauma and often snaps at people for questioning too much into his past. In all honesty, he hasn’t and probably won’t truly change entirely. However, he is softer around people like Leon, his spouse, his children, Odin, and Beruka. He can be taught healthy ways to open up and express himself.  ━ WHY YOU LOVE THEM: Listen...Niles is incredibly dear to my heart. He’s a well-written sexual abuse survivor whose story doesn’t revolve around his trauma entirely; he’s funny and he’s interesting and he means so much to me, as a victim of child sex abuse, because of how intricate he is. He’s a nonsensical character, in a lot of ways, which is exactly why he’s so relatable. Often extreme trauma will make us unpredictable and unkind without...truly wanting to be, and Niles very much demonstrates that. The fact that he’s been so damaged that he struggles to interact with other people, and his envy and his cruelty, makes him so loveable to me. He has more flaws than strengths, in my eyes, and I think that that’s very human.

TAGGING: ehhh idk. if you want to do this just do it n say i tagged u. dont forget to @ me so i can see it!