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breadqueen95 · 2 years

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Reflections - Chapter 8: Locks and White Walls

Bucky Barnes v fem!Reader

WC: 7.5k

Chapter Summary: Sam and Bucky have a conversation. Firebug settles in.

Content Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, allusions to torture.

a/n: HI SORRY my life is insane but I hope this is okay and worth the wait!!!

***

It’s been a long time since Bucky had forced himself to remain this still and quiet.

Yes, that even counts the few Avengers missions he’d taken part in.

The quinjet is a smooth flight no matter what. Turbulence, storms, even during battle, it kept pretty steady for the most part. Any sort of movement feels like gliding. It’s consistent that way.

Usually, smoothness is something Bucky and the jet have in common. Even before…all of that…he’d been nothing but smooth. Suave, even. Even when his brain was at war with itself, his body maintained surety and control.

The only difference now is her.

She’d fallen asleep seconds after Banner gave her the injection. Bucky had seen her body tense, even more than it already was, when she saw the needle. His own muscles mimicked hers, unable to keep his visceral reaction to drugs and needles at bay.

Even still, that smoothness managed to stay in the pilot’s seat. He let his instincts take control, murmuring soft assurances to her as she let Banner stick her with a needle. Maybe he should’ve given her some space, but after those first few words seemed to calm her, he couldn’t stop.

Firebug had been fast asleep now for about an hour and a half. The quinjet cuts down flight time, so even with the long distance between New York and Colorado, they would be there in the next hour or two. Her head tilts toward him, his heightened senses hearing the soft snuffling noises she makes as she sleeps.

The circles under her eyes, the way her body droops when she’s standing…Bucky knows lack of sleep. He knows trauma. It’s why he won’t let himself move now, terrified he’ll disturb what’s probably the first good sleep she’s had in a minute.

The only movement he allows himself is slightly moving his head so he can look down at her. He checks her breathing, slightly nervous about her reaction to the drug, but mostly he’s drawn to her face.

She looks younger this way. Her features get softer in sleep, as opposed to the hard lines he’s only ever seen in the day he’s known her. With a pang, he realizes this might’ve been how she’d look all the time if she’d never met Hydra. If she’d had a chance at a normal life.

As his eyes trace her face, his body finally relaxes into the seat. Bucky might be smooth in a lot of ways, but he’s made up of sharp edges. Rigid to a fault. He’s still not sure how she does this to him, but after years of feeling unable to relax, he wants more. Needs more.

Bucky’s limbs tense right up again as he glances up and sees Steve in the cockpit. Natasha is the one actually piloting, but Steve hovers behind her like a sentinel. He’s got his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stares out the window.

His best friend hasn’t relaxed since they began this mission, and Bucky has the unwelcome urge to put himself between him and the slumbering girl next to him.

“Ignore him,” a deep voice mutters next to him.

Bucky jumps as he turns to see Sam had silently taken the seat next to him on his other side, pulling a laugh from the man.

“I’ve never been able to sneak up on you, not once,” he wheezes quietly, “and all I needed was some poor traumatized girl from the mountains?”

He settles for rolling his eyes, making sure Sam sees it. If it weren’t for Firebug, he’d be giving his friend a sharp dig to the gut with his elbow. The metal one.

“Shut up, she’s sleeping,” Bucky mutters darkly, eyes glancing down to make sure of it. Even with Sam’s chuckling laugh, her eyes stay closed.

“Please, she’s not waking up until we get there. You know how good Banner’s drugs are.”

“Still, don’t be such an ass.”

Sam laughs again in that stupid, knowing way of his.

“You just don’t like that I pulled one over on you--”

“No you did not,” he interjects, “you’re just taking advantage—”

“Of course I’m taking advantage. It’s called working smarter not harder—”

They’re interrupted by a little sound from Bucky’s other side. A soft rustle of fabric. They both look over to her quickly, falling completely silent.

They both let out an exhale of relief when they realize she’s just slumped farther over in her seat. Her eyes are still glued shut.

They settle in silence, the bickering forgotten as a sort of comfort stretching over the two friends as the jet flies on. Bucky lets Sam go on believing he’s won this round, and fuck, maybe he has. He’ll get him when he’s least expecting it.

“I’m happy the sedative worked,” Sam murmurs, breaking the silence.

Bucky turns slightly to face him, and sees him training his warm smile on her sleeping figure.

“Me too,” he responds, “I wasn’t sure if it would or not. Too many uncertainties.”

Sam hums in agreement, and the quiet settles in again. Bucky leans back in his seat again, trying to ignore the prickling feeling he gets whenever Steve’s eyes dart in their direction. He can feel Sam looking at him too every now and again, something clearly on his mind.

So, Bucky decides to confront the one friend he feels comfortable confronting at the moment.

“Out with it.”

“Huh?”

“I know you’re trying to think of how to say whatever it is you’re thinking about, so just say it.”

Sam sighs, knowing he’s been caught. He takes another minute before he speaks, but Bucky knows he’s not avoiding him. He’s not like that.

“Did you know her? From…from before?”

Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Hey, I think it’s a fair question.”

It is. It absolutely is a fair question. Bucky felt the tug of familiarity himself when he looked into her eyes for the first time. But there’s no way. He was alone during his entire time as the Winter Soldier. Hydra saw to that.

“No, I didn’t know her. Today was my first time meeting her.”

“Hm,” Sam hums to himself.

“What’s the sound for?”

“What sound?”

“The ‘hm’.”

“What ‘hm’?”

“You made a ‘hm’.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

“I don’t ‘hm’ I have never made that sound in my life.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—”

Their quiet argument is halted again. Only this time, Bucky falls silent in the middle of his frustrated outburst. He’s never one to give up on bickering, so Sam follows suit soon after.

It wasn’t a sound that interrupted them this time. It’s because a soft, warm weight had settled against Bucky’s shoulder.

He looks down slowly, full of shock and awe and he sees Firebug sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. Her body had finally slumped over to the point where it caved in on itself in his direction, leaning until she rested her weight against him. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.

He’s touching her. She’s touching him.

He can’t breathe.

“This is why I asked if you knew her,” Sam whispers.

Bucky turns to look at him, trying to keep as still as possible for her, and finds his friend wearing the slightly sad version of a shit easting grin. He didn’t even know that was possible until now.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Being cryptic looks weird on you.”

“C’mon, don’t act like you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Sam huffs, shaking his head. That only served to frustrate Bucky even more.

“I don’t get it, and you’re really starting to piss me off,” Bucky growls. The only reason he hasn’t smacked Sam upside the head yet is because of his sheer luck in having Firebug sleep on his shoulder.

Sam must’ve heard the edge in his voice, because he looks at him and says, “I’ve never seen you like this before. Not over anything, or anyone.”

The confused wrinkle between Bucky’s eyes only gets deeper.

But Sam just keeps looking at him, full of calm insightfulness that makes Bucky want to toss him out the window. Let the bastard hitchhike his way back to the Compound.

“Sam, I have no clue—”

“Look man, I don’t really know how to explain it either,” Sam acquiesces, raising both of his hands, “but she brings out a side of you I’ve never seen. She’s clearly important to you.”

Bucky’s taken aback, mostly because Sam’s right. She is important to him. He knew that from the moment Steve and the others told them her story yesterday. That feeling became more pronounced when he saw her face in person for the first time, fire wreathing her trembling hands.

He wishes he could explain it away by saying it’s because of how similar their stories are, and hell, maybe that’s really all there is to it.

But as Bucky looks down at her again, her warmth seeping into his bones, he knows it’s more complicated than that. He just doesn’t know why, or even how to start finding out.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know.”

“I’m not sure Steve would agree with you,” Bucky murmurs in response, glancing up at the stiff figure of his friend up front.

“Leave him to me,” Sam whispers, “he just might need some time and a little extra help to get his head out of his ass.”

“Oh yeah? You specialize in that sort of thing?”

“Absolutely. Rectum surgery is my passion.”

Bucky can’t maintain his composure, letting out a sound somewhere between a honk and a snort. Still very aware of the soft, warm weight resting against him, he uses every ounce of self-control he has to clamp down on his laughter. Sam’s utter inability to chill the fuck out leaves his friend letting out tea kettle wheezes, which of course breaks down Bucky’s composure until he’s cackling as quietly and stilly as humanly possible.

It's a testament to the power of Banner’s sedative that she doesn’t even stir.

***

“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”

“Give her a minute. We got to New York earlier than expected – the sedative is only just now wearing off.”

Clawing your way back to consciousness is a fight. The drug and it’s aftereffects add weight to your limbs. It would be easier to just surrender and let yourself fall back to sleep.

The urge vanishes just as quickly as it appears. You’ve become aware of the muffled sound of voices muttering around you. The slight chill from the air nips your exposed left arm, but the right one feels weirdly…warm?

You’re taken aback by the observation. Why on fucking earth would one side of your body be cold and one warm? Then you realize that your face is warm too – along with being slightly smushed. You try to peel open your eyelids, get an idea of what the situation is, but they still felt beyond heavy.

The feeling of helplessness is suffocating. You feel like you’re underwater, fighting to register every sound of muttered conversation happening right beside you.

Where even are you? How did you get here?

With your rising anxiety, the chill in the air lessens. Your skin heats up as you try to make yourself move. Speak. Blink. Anything.

“Well we can’t carry in an unconscious girl, there’s no telling who’s hanging out with a camera.”

“Stark, we can’t be worried about your reputation right now.”

“Actually I’m worried about all of our reputations you insufferable kale smoothie—”

“Guys, I think we need to get her—”

Your body suddenly starts responding to the shouting in your brain and you surge upward. Your eyes shoot open as you go, breath coming in great heaves and heart hammering as you take in the scene around you.

The small group standing watch around you had moved when you did, taking two big steps back and taking up defensive positions.

Unable to stand up due to the extreme shakiness in your legs, all you can do is look around you and try to get yourself oriented. Your eyes land on the one and only Tony Stark, and it all comes flooding back.

Hydra.

Debbie.

Your mountains.

The Avengers.

There’s more of them here now besides just Tony. Bruce Banner hovers near the back of the group, fingers twitching as he watches you apprehensively. Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff are a little closer. They both still look nervous but they’re at least trying to maintain some semblance of calm.

Then you remember the warmth to your right. The steady heat seeping into your body. You quickly look over to find the source, only to find Bucky. He’s the only one completely relaxed. Nonchalant, even, as he looks down at you with sweet concern in his eyes.

You get a little lost in them. Kind of hard not to. That shade of blue should frankly be illegal.

…then you smell the burning.

You look down at your lap only to realize that you’ve started singing little patches into your jeans where your hands have been resting.

“Shit,” you mutter, picking up your hands and curling them into fists immediately. Luckily, being more aware of your surroundings helps you to douse that fire pretty quickly. You can’t fix your pants with the same speed however, which sucks tremendously considering you don’t have that many options to begin with.

You must’ve made a face, because Stark chimes in with, “Don’t worry about it kid, I hear distressed is more of a trend than a mindset these days.”

Despite his lightheartedness, you still feel a little disoriented and uncomfortable. You aren’t used to sleeping that deeply. Your body feels weird and heavy, like it doesn’t quite belong to you. It brings you back to the all too familiar setting of that god forsaken lab, where that feeling was all you knew.

“Are we there?” You ask, tone gravelly with sleep.

“Yep,” Sam answers, an easy smile curling his mouth.

You like Sam. He’s easy to like. He has this easy going nature that could make anyone feel at home, even someone as prickly and mistrusting as you.

Then you remember how everyone is still watching you. You look around the small group, and suddenly feel very small with all the eyes trained on you. The last two days would be a lot for anyone, but especially when you’re so used to keeping yourself out of sight, it’s difficult being looked at by so many.

You look away and shake your head, trying to dispel the heaviness from the sedative. There’s not much you hate more than feeling powerless. Except maybe being aware that you’re powerless. Luckily, it’s wearing off relatively quickly. With each passing second the feeling gets less pronounced.

You look over to Dr. Banner, slightly in amazement at this drug he’s managed to create, and somehow he already knows what you’re thinking.

Shrugging bashfully, he says, “Drug technology has come a long way. That, and I’m guessing your metabolism is burning through it pretty quickly.”

“Ha, good one,” Stark quips, cracking a half smile.

Banner blanches a little, realizing his accidental pun. He looks at you, face full of embarrassment and apology.

“I just meant…not that you’re literally burning…I mean, we all wake up pretty quickly…”

He keeps trailing off from one thought into the next, clearly flustered. But you find you don’t really mind it. It’s just a figure of speech.

Besides…it was a good one.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, “Stark’s right. It was funny.”

Banner runs a hand through his somehow always disheveled hair. Even though you try to relax, with this handful of people watching you, you feel like you’re under a microscope.

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, most of the group steps back and starts doing other things. Nat goes back up to the cockpit to finish up whatever needed to be done to power down the jet completely. Banner cleans up his medical supplies in his corner. Stark and Sam pull out their phones and step away.

But Bucky stays right next to you. You don’t mind that.

You still focus on your lap instead of him. Your awareness of his presence still feels too intense.

“Sleep well?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, eyes still locked on your hands in your lap, “I didn’t dream for once, so that was cool.”

You clamp your mouth shut. It’s not like he doesn’t know about your nightmares, you think you told them something about them yesterday. But despite how powerful your feelings are about him being so close, you feel a certain…ease with him. Ease that might allow you to say more than you want just yet.

“Guess I should get my bag,” you murmur, going to stand up quickly, but a wave of dizziness slows you down. You sway on your feet a little, the last remainders of the sedative still fighting with you.

A soft touch on your back steadies you, along with a quiet whisper of, “Easy there.”

Every particle of awareness goes to that touch on your back. It’s stabilizing, but even so, your heart starts racing.

Bucky doesn’t linger, but you feel the imprint of his hand long after he’s taken it away. You don’t even want to think about what that preoccupation means for you.

You take your time grabbing your bag, focusing on making sure each and every pocket is zipped as a distraction.

Yep, still good. Not much to do here. Shit.

You feel his eyes on you as he waits, so you decide enough is enough and get ready to go. As you swing your bag over your shoulder, you turn around and see that everyone is already on their way down the ramp and off the ship.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, “should we try to catch up?”

“Nah, we don’t need to. Stark and the others will meet us inside.”

Inside.

In the Compound.

The Avengers Compound.

Where you’ll be living for the foreseeable period.

Yeah, none of that is intimidating or anything.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky murmurs, “It’ll be okay. We just want to make sure you get settled, then we’ll give you some space.”

You nod a little absentmindedly. Space could be nice. Could even help with this out-of-body feeling you’re having.

With Bucky right behind you, you gingerly make your way down the ramp and into the bright, New York sunshine.

You squint as the first rays hit your eyes. After the darkness from the interior of the jet and all your snoozing, you’re decidedly not ready for it. Then the air hits you. It’s hot, not unlike how Colorado can get this time of year, but the humidity is new. It settles over your skin like a clock and you’re not sure you like it.

At the bottom of the ramp, you stop for a minute and look around. The Compound looms just to your left. It’s an imposing structure, all modern architecture that exudes power. It’s incredibly fitting for the people that call this place home.

You’re relieved when you notice the sheer number of windows placed along the face of the building. Plenty of natural light should help the tightness in your chest.

Once you’ve taken in the Compound itself, you look at the landscape surrounding it. There are tress everywhere. If you really focus, searching past the loud humming of the insects all around, you can hear the wind rustling their leaves. To your right glitters the wide expanse of a river. The Hudson, you’re assuming. You can just barely see the lazy current from where you stand with Bucky.

He gives you all the time in the world to take everything in. You glance at him. He’s watching you with a soft, curious expression you can’t quite name.

“Ready to head in?”

You nod, letting him take the lead as you both start to meander toward the building. The white color of its walls is a little off putting. Bad memories dance in the very corners of your mind, threatening to come to the surface if you let down your guard just enough. So instead you continue to try and notice new things. There’s another building off in the distance. It’s flat and low to the ground, but still enormous in size. Maybe it hold other jets like the one you arrived on. As you look up at the windows, you can see people walking back and forth in the hallways, going about their busy days as normal. It’s kind of strange to imagine anything about today feeling normal for anyone. You’re glad they have that.

Just below the windows is a gigantic, Olympic size swimming pool. You and Bucky have ended up right next to it as you make your way inside. The bright blue water is vastly different than the dark, natural waters of the river, but it looks inviting nonetheless in the humid heat. You kind of wish you could jump in—

C’mon, honey! Jump in!

You stop in your tracks. Your skin grows cold despite the temperature of the air around you.

I’ll catch you!

“You okay?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

You did it, you’re so brave!

Your breath catches in your throat. Emotion sits heavy behind your eyes, threatening to spill over at any minute. The voice in your head is eerily familiar. You think you could identify it if you let yourself. Maybe you already know, and that’s why it hurts so much. It’s not often a kind memory like that comes through. Even so…it somehow hurts more than the memories from the Prison. Stabs a different part of you, unexpecting and vulnerable.

“You don’t have to go swimming if you don’t want to,” Bucky says awkwardly next to you, pulling you from your reverie.

Looking up at him in confusion, you remember he has no idea what happened in your head just now. He only sees you looking mournfully at a swimming pool, which, let’s be honest, could look a little strange without the context behind it.

You quickly brush at the dampness in your eyes before glancing over to him.

“No, I just…”

You started to speak. Started to explain. But looking into his eyes is like a trap for you. Your breath catches again for an entirely different, foreign reason. Your voice falls away like summer rain. Something crackles in the air between you. And maybe you’re dead wrong, but Bucky looks just as affected by whatever’s happening as you are.

The two of you settle into this potent trance. Your goal of getting inside is long forgotten.

His eyes stir something in you. Something long forgotten. Those eyes would be hard to forget, but somehow…maybe you did.

Looking down, you see his fingers reaching out toward yours. The movement is tentative, almost as if he’s not sure he should. So, as if on their own accord, you feel your fingers shift as they move ever so slightly to reach for him as well. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion.

It makes it all the more shocking when a crackle of electricity erupts from your fingertips to connect with his.

“What the fuck—”

“Oh my god—”

You both exclaim in bemusement at the same time. The two of you jump backward from each other, the surprise of it all ending the brief spell you had been under.

In all honesty, you forget that hint of a connection with Bucky as you stare at now unfamiliar fingers. You’re not quite sure what just happened.

Looking up, you see Bucky eyeing you warily. He angles his left arm, the metal one you presume, slightly away from you. It doesn’t surprise or even offend you; something like that must be sensitive to electricity.

“What was that?” He asks.

You can tell he’s trying to stay calm and keep his voice steady, but he’s rattled. It’s not hard to see that. You don’t blame him; he and the others prepared for flame, not fucking lightning.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, voice trembling.

“That’s never happened before?”

“Never.”

Looking at his expression, one eyebrow raised in what you read as skepticism, a wave of defensiveness overtakes you.

“Oh come on, what reason would I have for lying?”

“Uh, what the hell? I don’t think you’re lying—"

“Well you clearly don’t think I’m telling the truth.”

“I didn’t say anything—"

“Your face said it all, and I fucking swear that it’s never happened before—”

“I didn’t say anything—"

“Everything okay out here?”

You both turn and see Sam peeking his head out of the glass doors at the entrance. He’s taking in your stance, the way you’ve both kind of squared up, and raises his brows. You try to relax your stance, but the tension lingers in your arms and the hard set of your mouth. Your fingers curl into tight fists at your sides.

“We’re good, man,” Bucky answers calmly, “she just…”

He goes to answer, but nothing comes out.

But you’re a good liar. You’ve stayed alive through lying.

“Bucky here just tried to grab my bag for me and it startled me, that’s all,” you jump in, covering his awkward pause, “I don’t do sudden movements.”

Sam only raises his brows higher but he doesn’t say anything. He just jerks his head behind him, telling you both to hurry it up before walking in himself.

As you and Bucky walk quickly inside, you mutter a tight, “I’m sorry, it just…it scared me.”

“S’okay,” Bucky reassures. Is he still a little tense, or is that your imagination? You’re not too sure.

“Please don’t say anything to them yet,” you say in a rush, right before he opens the door.

He pauses, looking back at your with trepidation in his gaze.

“They probably should know—”

“I know. And I’ll say something, I swear. Just give me the chance to, okay?”

Bucky nods after a second. He still seems unsure, but you think he’ll stick to his word. As long as you don’t wait for too long. Trying to avoid his eyes, you go through the door he holds open for you.

You step into a huge, airy room. Everything is modern and sleek. Looking up, you see walkways on different levels. In the backdrop are some more enormous windows. They allow bright afternoon sunshine to flood in, nearly erasing the feeling of being indoors.

And it doesn’t smell like a lab. You’re thankful for that.

“Did you take the scenic route or something, kid?”

Stark’s voice cuts through your observations. You look forward, finding him leaning casually against what you assume to be the front desk. An elegant woman stands straight next to him, her reddish blonde hair pulled back into a smooth ponytail. As you meet her eyes, you notice how warm and kind her smile is. It makes you feel safer.

“Hello,” she says, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Then she comes at you quickly. Her hand is outstretched, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. You don’t mean to, but you flinch slightly. Stopping in your tracks, you step back one pace from her sudden movements.

She stops. Her smile falters slightly as she takes in your reaction. You flush in shame at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, “I didn’t—"

Stark jumps in, coming up to stand beside her and says, “Kid, this is my better half, Pepper Potts. She runs the show around here. Definition of a girlboss.”

“Girlboss?” Pepper asks with a sigh, looking over to Tony as he settles next to her. You let out a sigh of relief. Tony covered up your little moment.

“I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug, “I heard Parker say it once and it sounded good.”

“Please don’t call me that again,” she shoots back, but there’s a soft smile on her face.

She really loves him you think to yourself.

“Noted,” he says, then looks to you, “Okay, ready to head to your apartment?”

“My apartment?” You ask, slight confusion in your voice. You figured you’d be in a small room with a small bed, that kind of situation. But an entire apartment?

“After all of this, you’re blown away by the idea of an apartment? Really?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter defensively, “the word ‘compound’ kind of has a certain connotation I guess.”

“I knew we should’ve workshopped that more.”

He runs a hand through his brown hair, looking to the young man sitting behind the desk, who you’ve just now noticed.

“Boyd, write down that we need to workshop that,” Stark quips.

“I work for Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark,” he drawls with annoyance, “you write it down.”

You blink in surprise. It’s hard to believe that anyone outside of the Avengers would speak to Tony Stark like that. You look to Tony, expecting a harsh rebuke, but he only snorts with laughter.

“Shit, I always hope I’ll catch you off guard.”

“Not today, Mr. Stark.”

Tony turns back to you, saying, “Kid, this is Nathan Boyd. He’s Pep’s assistant, so by extension, he also runs the show.”

Nathan pushes up his round glasses and thankfully only waves at you, clearly understanding that you’re so not down to do the handshake thing right now.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says with a half-smile.

“Oh, so you’ll offer help to a complete stranger but not me?” Tony asks with faux offense.

“Yep.”

“Sounds about right. Anyways kid, ready to rock and roll?”

You make yourself nod, then look to Bucky. You know you just snapped at him outside, but…you really want him to come. Tony is cool and everything, and Pepper seems nice enough, but you’re not sure about going somewhere with them yet. Everything is still too new.

“I’ll walk with you guys,” Bucky says as he meets your eyes, and then turns to Tony and Pepper, “It’s on my way to my own place anyway.”

Tony shrugs, then turns with Pepper and begins to walk down the large hallway to your right. You look up at Bucky and offer a small smile in thanks. He answers with one of his own. Then you make yourself put one foot in front of the other and follow the others.

“Stairs or elevator, kid?” Tony asks as you go.

“Stairs, please.”

Absolutely no closed spaces, thank you very much.

“Cool, gotta get that cardio in, am I right?”

He leads you all past a pair of sleek, shiny elevator doors to the stairwell door just to the right of it, and as you step in, you know you made the right choice. The corridor is narrow, but more windows open it up to the outside.

The four of you climb up to the fourth floor, Bucky’s steady presence right behind you as you try to keep up with the fast pace set by Stark and Pepper. Really just Pepper. She walks ridiculously fast for someone in stilettos.

Finally exiting the stairwell, you arrive in a quiet hallway with doors running down each side of the hall. It’s much quieter up here than it was down in the lobby, almost like the plush carpet is absorbing all the sound.

Pepper leads you down the long stretch of hallway until you arrive outside a door embossed with a golden 409. She presses her thumb to the reader on the outside, followed by a small click as the door unlocks.

“Welcome home,” she says with a smile as she looks back at you. She opens the door, stepping back to allow you to be the first one inside.

You step inside.

Your breath leaves you in the next instant.

White walls.

Blank white walls everywhere.

You try to take in the rest of the furniture to distract yourself. There’s a plush blue couch and set of chairs to your left, taking up that side of the main room. You notice a massive television taking up some of the wall space.

The white wall space.

Ignoring the violent swoop of your stomach, you turn toward the kitchen. It makes an “L” shape in the righthand corner of the room, made up of brand new silver appliances and white countertops.

More fucking white.

Swallowing hard, you skip over that and look to the far side of the room. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows take up the entire wall, no white to be found. You heave out a quiet sigh of relief and step toward it. This apartment as a view of the Hudson, and you admire the sparkle of sunlight off the dark water.

“We weren’t sure what you’d like as far as food and toiletries go,” Pepper explains as she flips on the kitchen lights, “so we got some frozen meals, stuff for sandwiches, things like that along with some popular brands for the toiletries.”

It was a good thing someone thought of those things. You were so used to dropping everything and going that you didn’t bring a whole lot, only your toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Anything you need you can order online. We have accounts with most of the popular retailers. I’ll ask Nathan to send you the information,” she finishes as she finally looks over to you.

You paste a smile on your face. It feels more like a grimace, but nothing on her own expression indicates that she can tell anything’s wrong.

“Thank you,” you say softly, and you find you truly mean it.

Nothing about this feels particularly normal. Everything that’s happened since they showed up yesterday has you feeling like a fish out of water. But you find you really mean it.

“I hope you like everything,” she replies, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

“I really do. This is definitely the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.”

She only smiles brighter. There’s no reason to tell her about how the white walls make you feel. What can she do? She didn’t know, and it’s not like she can do much about it now.

“Okay, so the bedroom is through that door on the left,” Pepper explains as she points to the door you saw earlier, “

“Set your bag down kid,” Tony snarks, “you look like you’re ready to bolt.”

Great. Of course he had to say something.

Pepper heaves an exasperated sigh, which makes you nervous, but luckily she turns it on Tony.

“She just walked in, give her a minute.”

“I’m just making a joke; I can’t make a joke?”

“You’re not joking you’re nagging—”

“I’m nagging?”

You tune out their bickering. Your gaze flits again to the walls. Biting your lip nervously, you make yourself look longer than you want to just to see if you can handle it. You’re going to have to handle it; this is your new living space.

But after just a few seconds, you have to avert your eyes. It just brings too much up. Too many painful and terrifying memories poke at the edge of your mind, and now just isn’t the fucking time for that.

Then you find yourself looking at Bucky. He’s already watching you, concern and questions filling his eyes. You look away as quickly as you can, hopefully without it seeming too suspicious. He must think you’re always on the edge of a breakdown at this point.

“Whatever,” you hear Tony say flippantly, and you force your attention back to him and Pepper. Nothing good can come from lingering on the walls.

The man looks at you again and says, “Okay, let’s talk shop. This place is huge, so you’re gonna need a tour at some point. Want to do that today?”

“No,” you say quickly, then try to cover by adding, “I mean, it’s just…it’s just been a long day.”

Tony shrugs, replying, “No skin off my back. Try not to get lost. But if you do, FRIDAY is always available to help.”

“FRIDAY?”

“The AI assistant for the Avengers. Mostly for me, but I’m good at sharing. Go ahead and introduce yourself, FRIDAY.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but certainly not—

“Hello,” the disembodied voice echoes from all around you, “I’m here to help in any way I can.”

Okay, so maybe the disembodied voice would make sense, considering what she is. Still freaks you out. Still made you jump.

You kind of don’t like that she’s both nowhere and everywhere. Are they going to have her watch you? Are they going to be monitoring you?

The idea of that doesn’t sit well with you at all.

You clamp down on that line of thinking. You’re getting overwhelmed, and imagining being watched 24/7 isn’t helping in the slightest. Anything more, any new piece of information, and you might explode.

And you mean that literally. You’re particularly combustible.

Looking over to Tony, you see him watching you with a curious expression. Is that…concern? You’ve noticed that with him it’s very hard to tell.

“Okay,” he starts saying as you watch each other, “any more questions before we get out of your hair?”

“N-no,” you manage to stammer out.

And it’s true. You truly can’t think of anything. The only thing in your head right now is a constant stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

“Groovy, then we’ll leave you to it. Make sure you ask FRIDAY any questions that come up. She’ll know the answer. On the off-chance she doesn’t, she’ll know to contact one of us.”

Tony turns to leave, and Pepper does too after she offers you a warm smile. You turn to look at Bucky, nerves starting to twist your stomach as the true reality of the situation sets in. He gives you a little half smile, then turns to leave as well.

I’ll just insert this IV now to get you started on the medication.

The panic really starts to set in as you realize all their backs are turned to you.

You’ll just stay in here for now. The doctor should be in shortly.

The sound of a lock clicks. Or is that just in your head?

The white walls fade to black, the darkness slowly creeping in along the corners of your vision--

“Wait”, you burst out.

Your voice echoes against those empty walls. All three of them turn around to face you in surprise. You’re a little surprised yourself.

The question bouncing around in your head sounds a little childish, and maybe it is. But you won’t be able to calm down until you get the reassurance you need.

“I can…I can leave, right?”

“What do you mean?” Pepper asks with a confused look, “You just got here. Don’t you want to at least give things a chance?”

“No, I-I mean – I just –”

You try to explain. The words just won’t come. You can’t seem to get past how stupid it sounds to the logical side of your brain. Your hands start to heat up with the fight or flight of it all, and you’re so damn scared you can’t think straight.

“She wants to make sure we’re not locking her in,” Bucky murmurs quietly.

You manage to make yourself look up. As you meet his eyes, the furious heat in your fingers lessens. Bucky was able to put this fear into words when it scared you too much to do even that.

“Oh,” Tony says. His tone is soft in a way you haven’t heard before from him

He runs a hand through his hair, something you’ve noticed is a habit of his, and sighs. You don’t think the sigh is directed at you. It’s heavier than that. Almost like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Pep, Barnes, can we have the room?”

“That okay with you?”

It’s Bucky who asks the question. You’re not sure, but somehow…you trust Tony. He puts his foot in his mouth, but you think he means well. And it means a lot that Bucky defers to you on this.

You turn to him and offer a small smile, muttering, “It’s okay.”

He nods, then turns to go with Pepper. Tony waits until the door clicks behind them. When it does, he sighs again. This time he runs both hands over his face.

This time, you wonder if he actually is frustrated with you.

“I really am sorry, I just—”

“Kid,” he cuts you off, “you never have to apologize. Not for things like this. Clear?”

You nod nervously. You’re relieved at the reassurance, but the exhaustion and anger in his voice still throws you off. Silence fills the room as you wait for him to continue.

“Lemme show you how the locks work. I always feel better when I know how something works.”

He turns quickly back toward the front door, clearly assuming that you’ll follow. You finally set your bag down and scuttle along behind him. He opens it to the now empty hallway and waves a hand for you to come stand out there with him.

“At the Compound, we use fingerprint readers,” he explains, “much less hassle than with actual keys, and it helps reduce the security risk. Right now your door is set to Pep’s fingerprint, since she’s the one who set your apartment up. I think Boyd’s fingerprint works on it too.”

You nod, trying to keep up. It’s all more high tech than you’re used to.

“FRIDAY? You there?”

“Right here, Mr. Stark,” the AI’s voice comes through the hallway, right next to the door.

“Let’s reset the fingerprint reader and add the kid’s fingerprints.”

“Done. Miss, if you would, please place your thumb facedown on the reader for 10 seconds.”

Swallowing your nerves, you do exactly as she says. A bright line scans your thumb up and down for a few seconds, then blinks green.

“All set,” Tony confirms, “now you’re the only one who has access to your place. Wanna test it out?”

You nod, still unsure about this whole thing, but trying to trust the process. You’re not so great with the whole “trust” thing.

Tony closes the door, and you hear a faint “click” and the door locks. You assume FRIDAY’s behind that.

With shaking hands, you press your thumb to the reader. It scans for a few seconds like before, then blinks green as the door unlocks. You test the handle, finding it unlocked.

“Okay, now go inside and try to get out.”

“What?” You ask, voice as tremulous as your fingers.

“Isn’t that what you’re most worried about? Being locked in?”

“Well yeah—”

“Then let me prove to you that that’s not what we’re doing here,” he says in a rush, then adds in a quieter tone, “I promise you’ll be able to leave. You’re not a prisoner here, I promise.”

Swallowing your fear, you go inside and close the door. You decide to wait a few seconds, but in that short span, the heat begins to creep back into your hands. Before you have any more time to doubt, you reach out and fling open the door.

It opens. Your wide eyes meet Tony’s. A rush of air leaves your lungs. Your relief is overwhelming, and tears start to gather in your eyes. You turn away from Tony before he can see.

You hear the door close behind you. It seems as though he’s left, but then you hear his footsteps.

“You alright, kid?”

“Y-yeah,” you choke out, “it’s j-just a lot.”

“I get that. Do you want me to stay or do you want some space?”

“I-I think I n-need some sp-space,” you stutter.

“Say no more,” Tony says, not an ounce of judgement in his voice. You hear him turn and walk back toward the door.

You hear the door open, but just before he leaves, he adds, “You’re safe here, but if anyone or anything makes you feel unsafe, you tell me. I’ll make sure it gets fixed or goes away.”

An entirely different rush of warmth rushes into your chest, lifting you up and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. It means so much that someone is on your side and cares about how you feel. Someone who knows everything.

Silence settles over the empty room. You hate how the white walls pierce your vision no matter which way you turn.

Hoping to escape them, you quickly walk forward and grab your bag. You walk toward the room off to the left that Tony indicated earlier, only to find…

More white.

The bedroom is all white. White walls. White pillows. White comforter.

The warmth that you had just felt evaporates, replaced by a chill that settles in your bones. It drags you down until you’re sitting on the floor.

Burying your face in your hands, you cry.

***

tag list: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #reflections series

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sansxfuckyou · 2 years

Text

Bars of gold

Summary: His shell finally shatters and it becomes clear why he's always on edge and pissing everyone off while trying not to make anyone deathly mad.

Warnings: Familial trauma, PTSD, allusion to forced dieting, physical trauma, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: Ever since I purged all my unposted UT fics, almosy a year and a half ago, I've been feeling guilty because some of them where fine and it'll take forever to rewrite and rebuild what I remember of them, once again, I take reblogs as a form of currency over likes.

It's been months since he left Underfell for good, and he still can't stop being afraid.

He can't stop jumping at the sound of boots clacking on wood.

He can't stop freezing at the sound of mostly indirect screaming.

He can't stop lashing out at the notions of 'its for your own good.'

He's not normal, and he hasn't been for a long time.

That was something everyone was aware of, looking at the world he came from it only made sense he would be a bit rough around the edges. But it didn't make sense how he always tensed up and redirected conversations after his glimmering, golden tooth was brought up. Or how he awkwardly makes horrible excuses to leave as his magic spikes whenever any Papyrus is within earshot distance of him.

None of them could get to the root of it.

Not until that thick shell of sarcasm, irony and spikes finally gave way to much more tender innards, like an urchin.

It's Wednesday, Snowdin forests, Undertale.

Where he wishes he grew up, where he wishes he was formed, where he wishes he could've learned and got better over time. No one knows that he quite likes the original universe, not even Ink can see past his layers built for protection.

It's quiet sitting in the snow as he stares at the dark roof of the underground. Water drips from stalactites, but before it turns into a marshy swamp, it hits the snow temperature. That small, simple combination is what allowed the snow to settle on his jacket, he wishes he felt safe enough to wear a hoodie. He hasn't since it got accidentally torn to shreds during training, slices going deep enough to gash a vertebrae, he's always told he's lucky it didn't paralyze when people catch the scar. Since he's settled for something closer to a water proofed winter coat, mixed with windbreaker paneling of fabric, all black, gold zipper, enough fluff to hide his face.

He liked it like that, and as he laid back, finally relaxed, his souls pace rested. It felt slow enough to make him choke on the lack of magic pulsing through marrow until he realized that was the normal amount of magic. He was just always on edge to the extent that being in a subtle overdrive of anxiety and panic twenty four seven three sixty five, not normal. That was in the not so distant past, and he couldn't tell, but the raging, rich, ruby tone of his pupil faded out, calmer, softer, almost a magenta.

Then snow crunched and he jolted up, magenta quickly flaring back up into a deep wine red as he practically leapt to his feet. Guttural snarls escaped the artificial way of producing sound he had, he knew it wasn't what he had, his was better, no gravel in tone, only a deafening sharpness. He held himself in a hunched and somewhat feral position that would get him scarred if he was here, one should hold themself high to assert dominance, he would say and posture corrected itself out of deep rooted fear.

When he realized it was Classic, a concerned looking Classic. His shoulders relaxed the second he saw the soothing blue hue of the hoodie zipped up for the first he had ever seen. He didn't notice it, but his bones were quaking, trauma layered on top of trauma causing his bones to be brittle, but he had found ways around that. It was treated as a calcium deficiency and that was fine because he had dealt with that before he was put on a diet to become more 'agile' as he had said.

"Your Papyrus," Classic began the reaction in Fell was visceral, thick as pupils dilated for a split second before turning to slits as he instinctively put up his hackles, shoulders raising, fists clenching, teeth gritting, sparks flickering across form, "misses you, dearly, he says."

"Fucking lies," was what Fell barked out at Classic in response, pinpricks of sharpened bone edges dug into the soles of Classics shoes before he stepped over.

"Explain than, if my Papyrus is so perfect, then why would yours be any different?" Classic asked, sliding hands into pockets as he slid out of what he could tell wasn't an intentional attack, sidestepping closer and closer to Fell until phalanges gently gripped a shaking wrist through a jacket sleeve.

"The Boss just isn't a good brother like yours was, is," Fell said, he knew it wasn't a good enough explanation, but he could elaborate, he had to elaborate for his own good, "everything he did to me he said was for my own good, and some of it, some of it was normal, some of it was for me, but most of it wasn't."

"Like what?" A simple question drifted and reverberated in Fells skull until he could answer, staring at his partner, not yet decided if they were partners in more than strictly crime, pupils faded out of that heavy wine red back into a much more calmed down ruby.

"You see this-" he gestured to his golden tooth getting a nod -"he did that to me, not because my tooth was rotting, because he could, because I wasn't good enough, disciplined enough."

Silence was what he was met with so he continued.

"Shit stung you know, ached like a bitch until illegal tooth insertion, then he decided I wasn't fast enough either, that I wasn't dodging enough of his attacks, that if my hoodie tears I'm not good enough, I'll be thrown in the dungeon if I get hit, I'll die if I get hit, it was never good enough-!" Fell could've kept going, he really could've, but instead he managed hiccuping sobs instead and that would have to be enough as he leaned into Classic who barely held him, form shaking furiously as pools of translucent red gathered in his eye sockets.

The two stood there, silent aside from the sound of Fells sobbing until Classic slowly guided him to the ground below. Snow crunched underneath them and it was quiet again, those fluttering, intricate flakes landed on them. And when Fell was ready to speak again after silencing sobs, boy did he ever speak.

"Classic, do you know how lucky you are that your world has the capacity to be good? Do you know how lucky you are?" Fell asked gently and Classics entire stance tightened, each joint contract and spinal cord straightening a little bit as well.

"I know that I'm lucky, lucky to have a good world, but it can be horrible, you know that right?" Classic asks as he props himself beside Fell, leaning against him.

"Yeah, yeah I know that, why else would you run a 'dog stand, or play pranks and make puns other than to dull the horrors," Fell said, putting a lot of words he knew to uses that made sense in his frazzled mind and would make a lot more sense if he hadn't just finished sobbing, "that's why I came here, hoping to 'jack a reset and take your place, or take my place beside you."

"Huh, well, I guess that worked out up until now," Classic said, staring up the stalactites, hoping that this time Frisk would let Asgore live, two resets ago was true pacifist and everyone was on the surface and happy Fell didn't make it for that, it rarely occurred.

"Real shame he done found me, hopefully he hasn't touched our Papyrus," Fell said, Classic didn't respond right away, lifting his head to raise a metaphorical brow at Fell who realized his wording and that same magenta with a tint of ruby red peppered his skull, "your Papyrus."

"He'll be flattered to know you care about him that much, I'm sure of it," Sans said, his naturally occurring expression easing into a comfortable grin.

"Maybe," Fell said, heaving a sigh from his form, it was a lot more eased now, soul beat resting at the actual average pace again and he choked up a bit for a second because of it, "are you gonna hand me in to him?"

"Not yet, if I do, I might not see you again for a while," Classic said as he leaned against Fell once more, tilting his skull to look at the stalactites above, they consisted of quartz and granite, of sapphire and basalt, they glimmered under the naturally occurring artificial light of glow stones embedded in the roof, "and to be quaint, that would fucking suck."

"You sure 'bout that, I'm kind of an asshole," Fell said, looking up at the stalactites as well, they were nice, his were glowing reds and omniscient blacks.

"Of course man, having a partner like you was kind of like, a learning experience? Not to trivialize it you know, I kind of learned a lot by having you around, it's weird and stupid, but I guess the house would just feel fucking empty if you left so soon," Classic explained, he was having a hard time trying to put what he meant into the rights word, but he got a bit of a half nod in understanding.

"The Bosses house probably felt a lot nicer when I wasn't there, he always said I cluttered up the place," Fell said, heaving a sigh, but the grips on his wrists pulled his attention back to Classic.

"Don't say that, if anything its his fault he can't keep his shit in order, you're just easier to get mad at instead of seeing his own problems in front of his own two eye sockets," Classic said, Fell gave a nod, he wasn't sure if Fell believed what he had said though, "we can stay out here as long as you need before we head back, so your Papyrus doesn't have to find you and ruin you some more."

"That sounds nice," Fell said before pulling up his hood, leaning back into the snow, Classic followed shortly after, forms parallel as snow drifted into their eye sockets, melting due to condensed magic allowing sight where there shouldn't be sight.

The two sat there in a calm silence, if not for hours, then perfect minutes that felt liked they stretched on forever. They didn't speak, they just were and it was something new and nice for both of them, neither having any time to just, be.

And sometimes, just existing without anything doing and anything rushing by is really what you need.

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thedragonflycluster · 2 years

Text

I was reflecting on some trauma stuff while doing some class work for this shelter (because it likes to resurface on its own wildly inconvenient times..) and got some intense flashbacks I hadn't seen before. Pretty visceral and pertaining to some of our roughest stuff. I kind of just sat there and went Well, I guess I'm just dealing with this right now. It's not any use trying to push it away if it's here, I've done that countless times with poor result. I let the imagery pass and do its own thing while just being an observer. It eventually did float off.

This really would not have been what happened even a couple months ago. For 7 months continually we struggled and were tormented by nonstop auditory/visual flashbacks, bodily sensations, all the fantastic /s ptsd stuff as we started trauma work and counseling. It'd keep us from sleep and threw our health and body out of whack, and I'm still dealing with the effects of that. I felt like I was broken, because all I could experience was this past trauma, in everything I& did. Someone looked at me or moved a certain way? Bam, more ptsd taking over our whole body. Many nights I'd fall asleep with my whole body clenched, in a cold sweat or gripping for dear life until I fell asleep from exhaustion.

It wasn't fun, at all. These can be the sorts of things that come from DID, and systems who have trauma/(c)ptsd. All that stuff people talk about when they hear "DID", how we're miserable and in constant suffering from what was done to us.

And sometimes it is that. Sometimes we are purely in phases of suffering, a phase of processing, feeling scared and helpless again. Sometimes all we can do is hold one another through it, and tell each other it's over with and that we made it out alive, and that we are okay now.

But today showed me something different, something I've really only heard trauma survivors speak about, that it gets more manageable. That it can get easier. It doesn't change that what happened should have *never* happened, and that there was nothing you& could have done to help it, but being able to just sit and let the feelings pass means something. It means they didn't win.

It means you made it. You didn't let them kill you or your spirit. Each time you come out of a ptsd episode it means you& didn't let them win by giving up. And I have to say, for me& at least, it feels pretty damn good at times. ☘️

#o.c #text post #pluralgang #endo friendly #pro endo #endo safe #dissociative identity disorder #trauma ment #living with ptsd #cptsd #mental health #mentally ill #you(&) got this :^)

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wheaning · 19 days

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i reached out to you finally. you said that you hope that i am dying slowly and painfully. that my family would take me off of life support as soon as they were given the chance. that you’re talking to someone from your past again. that your hatred for me allowed you to turn back on your word, your twisted principle of “when i leave, i don’t come back”

the world doesn’t quite work like that, does it?

i’m sure my past makes me deserve it. everything i have wanted to say to you but held back for this past year has seeped out of my eyes for the past 24 hours. i don’t know what kind of response i was even expecting, but i still wasn’t prepared for that. you just haven’t changed at all. i don’t think you ever will. all of your old friends hate you. your new friends will probably end up hating you. for some reason, i got caught up in your web of lies like a docile fly. i can confidently say that i’ve never met anybody else even remotely close to you. you’re the pinnacle of evil in this universe. but somehow i still see beauty. a small boy hurting. aching. growing up and devouring. it makes my chest feel tight. my heart skip. thinking about you makes my brain feel warm and angry. those are the effects of ptsd, i guess. crying in my bed watching the text go by in my head over and over and over again makes my entire body feel like it’s weak but made of hot steel. my body feels like a weapon because of you. if you hate me so much, and if you talk to your ex the same way you spoke about her to me, why didn’t you just shoot me while we were up in the fog on that mountain? i already could barely breathe. you knew you would hate me someday. and that’s why you’ll never escape your emotions until you allow your real ones to surface and rip you open. only somebody fueled by emotion can hate like you do. do you hit her? or was that just for me? do you rape her? or was that just for me? do you scream at her? or was that just for me? do you stalk her? or was that just for me? do you twist the lungs right out of her breast, and inflate them until the veins resemble the ones you saw lacing my back while you were forcing yourself inside of me? when she asks you to choke her, does it remind you of when you’d grab me by throat and press your thumb down on my trachea, and look down at me like sex was your paradise of exploitation, torment, full domination and pain, while it was my worst nightmare? while i laid there and knew this was the worst thing the person you love could do to you. i would argue that you killing me would be worse, but you were killing me. i had disease in my body and you were mangling me up. your hands were so big and there was nothing i could do with any of my power to get them off of me. you liked that. you liked that a lot and i saw it in your eyes. you made me disgusting and you fucking loved that, it moved you, it changed your life. you devoured me whole and as much as you want to deny it, you were never able to spit me back up.

terms too big for your stomach. pain too visceral for your understanding. that is the life that i live. if you were able to get your hands on oxycodone, you’d never want to smoke weed again. you’d like knowing i did drugs. you’ll never even get remotely close to fentanyl. what it’s like to wake up in blood. arms and legs numb, your own neck unable to support the weight of your head, your eyes darting back and forth beneath their lids. wires. wires and wires and wires. machines breathing for you. waking up thinking of the person who put you there in the first place.

i guess that’s why i shouldn’t have reached out to the person who the hospital bed’s smell made me think of.

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dzpenumbra · 2 years

Text

12/29/22

Starting with a prompt here because, to be honest, I don't want to dig too deep on reliving today. I think this prompt should sum it up a bit, so let's see if I can stay on track. After my journal last night, I decided to do an extremely quick tarot reading. Super simple, just... I was overwhelmed with reliving all the past shit from last journal entry and I just wanted to see if there was anything I should look out for in the near future. What is next for me. That's what I asked.

I pulled one card. Nine of Wands, reversed. The Nine of Wands - at least in the deck I drew from - is the wounded soldier. Let me pull up my notes for more detail. "A tired, wounded warrior leans against a wall of 9 staves, using one to hold him up. He uses a sword to prop himself up as well, a shield rests by his side. He is beaten and drained by the dark of the world, but he survives."

I didn't really get hit too hard emotionally by yesterday, not like... viscerally. By that, I mean... I slept fine, surprisingly. My day went okay, you know? Nothing... insanely powerful. But my mom checked in with me, I told her what happened and she offered me an ear. I took her up on it and... it was pretty intense. And I started to unravel a bit. Given an ear and the right questions... this whole problem of not being safe and secure and supported is pretty much the cornerstone of most of my problems. And it is absolutely directly tied to isolation. So, most of the conversation was about how all I want is just... someone to just go do shit with me. Body-doubling, I think they call it. It's like the least demanding thing in the world to ask. It works wonders for me. But I couldn't get anyone to do that for me when I lived 7 minutes away from them, now I'm 2+ hours away from anyone I know. And try to ask a stranger to do that shit for you, great way to weird people out. I started getting more and more paranoid, catastrophizing more and more. Extreme thinking, "are there even good people left in the world?", "is it even worth trying to get to know people, just so they can feed on me, drain me dry and then kick me to the curb and call me an asshole for not feeding them anymore?" And in my head, at the time, it made perfect sense. It was like "well, duh, of course every person is like this." And I've had that moment thousands of times before. I didn't have it earlier in the day, I didn't have it last night. I don't have it now. But in that moment, it was clear as day. Everyone I have been "friends" with was an abusive parasite. And it would be on my shoulders, it would be my fault if I got into another friendship like that. Where it all ends one day super suddenly with me asking a super normal question like "can you retweet this" or "can we talk about minecraft mods for the server" or "do you want to do a cover song sometime" or "when can we have another phone call?" And within less than a minute, I am treated as though I cast a curse on their genetic line. I'm guessing this is my PTSD. I have no idea, I've just got a flurry of mental health stuff constantly going on, it's hard to know what's what.

Hey, Nine of Wands, right? That was supposed to be about rest and recovery, as far as I interpret it. Like... Ten of Wands is like overburden, like taking on too much shit, like every person who has ever played an Elder Scrolls game half an hour after they create their first character. Nine is basically friggin me. It's a dude who's just beaten down and hurt by the world, who is persevering and determined to keep pushing. --- I'm struggling here. I get this a lot. Tarot interpretation is supposed to be subjective, honestly. I mean... the image is supposed to represent a moment, a symbolic moment that we all can relate to. Like Ten of Cups is like... the happy ending, with the wife and kid and the dog and the house with the white picket fence and the rainbow in the distance. A pretty universal image, even if the details are different for you, the spirit is the same. But I get really hung up on reverse cards, inverted cards. Some people read them as "this means the opposite of the image", which never made sense to me. I took to reading them as... upright = this is the image in working order, reversed = this image is in chaos, it would benefit from being brought into order. Like... reversed means something is going wrong with it, it's causing dissonance. But I keep hitting snags with that... like... what if you pull The Devil reversed? So like... indulgence, temptation, being impulsive... and it's reversed... so like... you're struggling to be tempted? It gets weird, it's hard to really pull a message from that. Like... The Devil is present, but it's not able to be functional, so... good job? I guess? But keep an eye out? I mean, it's one way to read it. And the more I Google this shit, the more fucking confused I get, because everyone has completely different takes on it.

Like the first interpretation I read on Nine of Wands inverted was basically telling me I'm a fault, I'm causing the chaos and the damage and I'm shifting the blame. I'm perceiving the damage caused to the warrior to be coming from the outside world, when really it's coming from me. Which really feels like some random website trying to fucking gaslight me... XD Like, I didn't make this chick call me out of the blue. I mean, I can stretch it and say that my PTSD response is me just tormenting myself and getting stuck in memories that are not Now... but that's kinda... duh... is that really fighting a war against myself? I mean... in a way, I guess? Like... this chick is suffering in her own way, but I guarantee she has zero awareness of the domino effect she set off in my life. I doubt she would care even if she was informed. How much of that domino effect is me? Is it even productive for me to dwell on that? It's hard to really tell.

I have been desperately trying to process emotions, to not repress and not deny emotions. And it's really hard to tell when I'm doing my "work", and when I'm just fueling the fire. Like... is it better sometimes to just... say fuck it and go to the grocery store? To have a day where I'm staring at the door lock and feeling unsafe and to just give myself a gigantic push off the cliff and get in the car and go to the grocery store and get it over with? I just don't know if it's healthy. I'm genuinely torn on that. Sometimes it's a good push to sober me out of my own traumatic hypnotism. Sometimes it's just a one-way ticket to a panic attack. Is it worth the risk?

I am very sensitive and it takes me a while to process and --- okay, look, I'm just gonna level here. I have therapy tomorrow and I talked about this kinda shit for like 2+ hours today. I'm cutting myself off. To sum it up, I guess sometimes a small catalyst can trigger a chain reaction within me, which ends up snowballing and fucking up my whole life in like a week flat. And I fear that chain reaction is my fault, it sure is my responsibility. And I fear that this card is kinda sending the message that I'm painting an enemy externally, when the true enemy, the one doing the real damage... is inside. It's me. I'm turning on myself. My memories, my self-protective instincts. So, I go "I don't feel safe meeting new people", "I don't feel safe going to the grocery store", when two days ago I was totally fine with it. It was so much easier to say this stuff when I called it "my PTSD" or "my depression" as though it wasn't part of me. But it is. It is me. It's my reptilian brain trying to protect myself.

I tried to stop talking about this, then I went... "let me just sum it up" and fucking went on a rant. Welcome to my brain, ladies and gents. It's every goddamn day.

So... you could say I'm a bit stressed...

I remembered the card while talking to my mom, and my first interpretation of it was pretty simple. Nine of Wands = wounded soldier trying to rest and recover, reversed = something preventing that from happening, or that isn't working. And it was just... duh. But diving deeper into it is just a hell of a rabbit hole I wasn't really ready for right now, cuz I'm fuuuuuckin exhausted. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.

So, lets get some good vibes in here to clean the palate. I put in some work cleaning up the first opal. It looks... absolutely stunning. It's intimidating. I have to keep reminding myself I can get more if I like it. It's so unbelievably beautiful. And it's really strange. Apparently water interacts with it very oddly, which is why it has it's opalescence, that's because it actually has water content within it. I don't know the science exactly, I didn't spend a ton of time on it, I was just trying to find out if water was going to damage it, which apparently isn't really as cut and dry as I thought it was? Water causes it to be more translucent, then when it dries and goes milky again it can actually lose its shimmer a bit, from what I read. It's so odd to have a mineral in your hand that turns from milk to glass when you dip it in water, and the oddest part... it sticks to your fingers like... kinda like a piece of super-cold ice? Like touching a cold metal pole in winter with your bare hand, like that feeling. And apparently that's because it just vacuums up the water on your hands. Really weird shit, never encountered a mineral like this before.

So yeah, there was that and I started a new Rimworld colony and... it's happening... not incredibly excited about this one but, yeah. It's a thing.

Anyway, bed. Bye.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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thesophiades · 2 years

Text

[Review] Pageant & New Year’s Eve, 2019

Pageant - Autumn Chen

NYE, 2019 - Autumn Chen

I stumbled across Pageant (and wound up recommending it to a PTSD peer support group I’m a part of, where it resonated with several of the other members straddling the Asian-American experience in terms of cultural divide and tightrope walking). I don’t think that liked it is quite the right term- it wasn’t really a pleasant experience, but it was a very good piece of writing in terms of the squirmy-queasy feeling it inspired when walking through the protagonist’s shoes and in terms of being able to squish emotion out of me, even if it was largely frustration and irritation at not being able to get a good ending despite trying to finely balance being decent at everything rather than gambling it all on one venture or the other- though, burnout and mediocre performance is pretty reasonable as far conclusions go there. It made me feel something, and that’s one of the major hallmarks of pieces I’ll write on, or ponder over for awhile longer. It’s also why I decided to check out NYE, 2019.

The greyed out choices were pretty good signal posts at different ways things could have gone- a wistfulness and regret that effectively echoes the character’s fidget-y rising anxiety. I can’t say that Zhao is a character wholly dissimilar from me: she’s also someone I’ve known secondhand- a highstrung, terribly anxiety riddled, high achieving Asian woman who is deeply dissatisfied in terms of her personal life. She’s also not quite like me though, and the dissonance makes it hard to say that I like her, exactly- I found her frustrating at times, (despite being able to empathize in terms of the character’s mental health in some regards), though- at the same time, that frustration and agitation with yourself, and sometimes ineffectual attempts at pushing through before you’re really ready to is very realistic, I find. I think part of that annoyance comes from the expectation of being able to do better, wanting to do better- and well, if that isn’t familiar! I got a good ending with Emily in NYE, 2019- and I’m happy for it.

I do wish that Zhao had made some progress on the social front after going off to college- but God knows so many young adults fall to pieces when they head off to higher education and away from the social bubbles they’ve been wrapped up in all of their lives: I never really experienced the slow dissolution of highschool friendships, (and have retained a childhood friend who I also coincidentally met through both of us liking Homestuck!) but I can see how it happens to people and the awful effect it has on people, especially people I have known who were never really forced into isolation/loneliness and learning to abide their own company. It can be a total shock to the system.

Don’t get me wrong- I love my loved ones, and I care for them deeply, cherish their company: but I think being forced to figure out what it’s like to exist completely alone in a city of millions was a very big eye opening moment on adulthood and figuring out how to try to be comfortable with myself. I’m a bit of a buzzy socialite when I’m in a good place, but I can see a little of my awkward, round shouldered, sweatily nervous pre-teen self in Zhao. I feel bad for her, mostly. She’s familiar, in the way nervously smiling childhood pictures are- and the same intermingling of pity tinged with frustration and disappointment rises when I think back. I suppose, it just goes to show my own foibles- and the value of learning self forgiveness and compassion, both of which are works in progress for me.

Zhao isn’t a protagonist I’d actively root for. She’s the kind of character that’s hard to look dead on at- the kind that I usually turn around from and cover my face, or close my eyes and cringe, sucking in a sharp breath- because the second hand embarrassment can be agonizing. At the same time- I think that she’s capable of provoking such a visceral reaction speaks quite highly to Chen’s writing abilities.

Is she likeable? I wouldn’t say that I like her. I would say that she is a very interesting character, and she has resonated with a lot of other Asian Diaspora I’ve shown her to, and that that’s valuable in of itself. If she as a character was holding up a mirror for some sort of theme or meaning for us to glean: I think it would be to be a little kinder to the awkward young adults we once were, still trying to stumble our way through life gracelessly, fumbling in the dark to grasp at something like salvation. I think that that’s certainly worth consideration.

And at any rate- I was compelled enough to share my thoughts! I’d suggest playing both games to see for yourself.

Have sleepily digested Chen’s shortened and in depth post mortems and wanted to append a few brief thoughts.

First of all- I had no idea Zhao was a self insert of sorts, and am now mortified for having waffled on about how she wasn’t particularly likeable, if still a compelling protagonist. I hope that this doesn’t come off as an insult to the author! I’m sure that you’re a perfectly lovely person.

It’s interesting to me that Chen notes personally feeling as if NYE, 2019’s writing is a bit of a weak spot that needs to be papered over with interactivity, or that the characters might have come off as sort of vague, empty stereotypes. I think that came as a surprise to me specifically because it was the compelling nature of the characters, especially Emily’s development in Pageant that led me to check out NYE, 2019, and I quite enjoyed all of the characters- maybe specifically because of the universality of the Anxious Type A Asian Girl to my own experiences and people I’ve known.

Also, the greyed out choices were apparently for routes or options that had never been implemented due to being cut for scope purposes. You could have fooled me- I felt sufficiently free to mosey about and eat delicious little snacks while wandering to chat to people.

Speaking of chatting to people, it was mentioned more content might be on the horizon for the Kevin and Mom interactions- I’d happily replay it to see that, since the Kevin moment in the basement was jarringly short to me. I guess that’s the nature of annoying siblings, huh? Hahah.

I also hope that Chen does make that other game in the same feel/with Zhao, and will be keeping an eye out for it- I’ll probably review it when it comes out too.

#interactive fiction review backlog

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shadowthestoryteller · 3 years

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I have finally made peace (somewhat) with the Bad Batch show

I still am unsatisfied with how they did things, namely Crosshair's dechipped reveal and the over abundance of cameos. I also feel like most of the time and effort went into the animation. Which admittedly is ASTOUNDING compared to Season 1 of the clone wars. The pacing is still a bit odd, and I feel the Infested ep should DEFINITELY have come before Ryloth.

But all that aside, I've come to accept something

It just wasn't made for me

Let me explain

TLDR at the end for those with ADD like myself

I felt often that the episodes lacked the deeper "omph" that some episodes in the clone wars had. There was angst, yes, but it wasn't really explored or fleshed out. Things kinda happened more for shock value (ex. civvie BBQ, dechipping, ect) and then weren't ever... mentioned again??? Crosshair, forced against his will to brutally murder unarmed civvies alive, only to never have it mentioned again. That's no small incident. The Crosshair from tcw would definitely have felt deep rooted and visceral horror at what he'd done, even if he didn't say it aloud. Because he's not evil.

You don't just brush something like that off. Admittedly, we do see him reflect at the end of that episode but then we just... move on. It is never brought up again. His abandonment gets a bit more spotlight, with that absolutely gut-wrenching speech in episode 15. Even still, it doesn't go as deep into it as I feel it could.

Ultimately, much of my issue boils down to that; things weren't really addressed in-depth like I felt they should be. Many of my fellow Bad Batch stans have the same thought. There are many fans out there who have, in my opinion, written the Batch better than the show-writers. I myself have gotten the same praise, which is not to brag but to point out that even those writing for purely hobby's sake go in-depth with the characters and their issues.

Thing is... we go deeper into these issues, into what should be broken men, because of one critical factor.

Our target audience is NOT a bunch of kids.

The Bad Batch show, per IMDb, is rated TV-PG. PG. That's for kids. Just like the Clone Wars.

I was eight when the Clone Wars movie came out. EIGHT. Why did I watch it? Cool lightsabers, neat character designs, kick-ass action sequences, and intriguing plots. NOT deep and intricate characterizations. Hell, half of it probably went right over my head. Because I was a KID. Kids aren't really gonna get the deeper meaning of things. Ask a eight year old to read Shakespeare and see what happens. They don't care. They care about action or cool visual effects.

The Clone Wars, and by extension Rebels, did mature as the seasons went on, but that's probably because the audience who started with Season 1 was also more mature. They could better understand the death. The corruption. The deeper, more adult themes.

Many of us fanfic writers, or at least those in my circle, are 17+ verging on 18+. My material is not for kids. Or even teens at some points. I can delve into things like PTSD, abandonment, perfectionism, trauma, abuse, and so on. Because I'm not targeting young kids; I'm targeting people around my age. Those who too grew up with the clone wars and deeply yearn for a different outcome. A different outcome where the galaxy didn't fall. The clones got their freedom. And the musty crusty dusty raisin choked on a grapefruit.

My audience is different. As such, I'm going to tackle topics a completely different way. Ways that no kid, or sometimes even teen should be exposed to.

Writing is an art, and a hella difficult one at that. Especially when aimed at kids. Even if you want to explore the character on a deeper level, you can't. Not if you want the rating to stay the same. A kid will look at Crosshair's speech and go "yeah he's hurt". But they probably won't think too much of it.

I didn't realized the true terror of the mind control worms. I didn't think too much of Pond's death. Umbara didn't horrify and scar me. It was only when Ahsoka underwent the hell that she did that I really felt impacted by the show. Because at that point, I was 12 almost 13. And I'd been attached to Ahsoka for years, so saying goodbye to her was saying goodbye to my childhood. But if you showed me that exact same scene at 8, I would have just "noo!! she's leaving!" and then jumped to something else.

Because that's how kids are. They don't really get the deeper "what's happening here". Looking back they will, just how looking back we all are like "bro what were those early kid's movies ON that is NOT child friendly" (Pink Elephants in Dumbo, the entirety of All Dogs Go to Heaven, ect). Another example? That scene in the Patriot (2000) where the surrendering soldier got shot in the face? I remember very vividly my seventh grade classmates laughing. Kids and very young teens aren’t exactly gonna take dark things seriously.

The Bad Batch isn't meant to be a deeper, thought provoking show with convoluted and twisted morals, showing the horrible and dark reality of war.

It's a kids show.

For kids.

Hence Omi. She's the tether for the kids. As such, the topics cannot get overly dark. But when they do, they can only be shown at surface level. Something that, to an older audience (such as myself) comes across as shallow and lazy.

Do I still wish they did things differently? Yes. Do I prefer my/others version over the show? Yes. Will I still grumble about things? Most likely yes. Will I make shots at canon in my fics? Hell yeah, its fun.

Here's the thing.

You're allowed to complain! You're allowed to hate something! You're allowed to wish they did something differently! Welcome to media consumption!

But you can't go into a kids' show with adult expectations and then be surprised when it doesn't meet those expectations. If you want a animated series catered to adults, watch Arcane. The Bad Batch show, a show rated PG, is simply not for you.

Additionally, you most certainly cannot bash others who like the show/characters. The amount of hate I see towards Omi, a literal child, is sickening. Do I like her within the context of the show? Not really, no. I feel like her presence limits how dark they can go, and I also feel like she replaced Crosshair as the marksman. But do I hate Omi herself? NO. She's the new generation's Ahsoka.

TLDR;

The Bad Batch is made for kids, and judging it by adult standards will just leave you disappointed. I know, because I did the exact same thing and have suffered for it.

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dogbearinggifts · 4 years

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I feel like often people pay more attention to Vanya's childhood trauma, because it is far more understandable, and relatable than the others simultaneous issues of being actual child soldiers with probable body counts, and isolated child stars at the same time. A lot of people can relate to isolation and feeling lesser compared to their siblings, not many can relate to being forced to kill people at age 13, while having a huge fanbase.

This.

Vanya’s childhood trauma bears more similarity to what the average viewer probably went through in their formative years. Everyone knows what it’s like to be shut out of the group. Everyone knows what it’s like to watch the in-crowd hanging out together, painfully aware of how little they want your company. And I think that’s what makes it so easy to demonize Vanya’s siblings for their treatment of her. When people relate Vanya being left out, they’re remembering the times they themselves were left out—and I’d wager that in many cases, it was by the so-called popular kids at their school, kids who got ahead by treating others badly and who felt better about themselves by making others feel poorly. Her situation was more complicated than that, and her siblings ostracized her more out of thoughtlessness and misinformation propagated by their dad—but that’s easy to miss when her exclusion causes such a deep and visceral reaction in those watching it happen.

Her siblings’ childhood trauma, on the other hand, bears more resemblance to that of a child celebrity. And, while many kids dream of being movie stars or having their own TV shows (I certainly did) few of them really know what it’s like. Jeanette McCurdy and David Archuleta gave a brutally honest look into that world on her podcast, Empty Inside, on the episode “stage parents.” They describe being shoved into the public eye before they really knew who they were, forced to live out their parents’ dreams with no time to realize their own, and subjected to long tirades of verbal abuse for taking small steps toward independence. That’s what Vanya’s siblings went through, with the added burden of being placed in mortal danger and made to fight to the death. Vanya probably felt they were treated like royalty while she was relegated to the role of commoner, but their lives were more like the Hunger Games—an empty shell of glamorous outfits and fawning media coverage over a core of PTSD, abuse, and self-loathing.

It isn’t that Vanya suffered while her siblings didn’t, and it’s not the other way around, either. It’s just that Vanya’s suffering is something everyone is familiar with, while her siblings’ suffering is foreign to most.

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mwolf0epsilon · 3 years

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“Eps’s Notes on The Illusion of Living”

It's taken me nearly three months to get this done due to writer’s block kicking my sorry butt. But, as promised, here are my notes on the "Illusion of Living". Good god has this been painful… But I did have a lot of stuff I initially thought of Joey somewhat confirmed for me, and got a few extra interesting tidbits of info that I feel are very curious...

--{Key}--

Italics are my opinion

--{Key}--

--{Quick retelling of the book’s contents}--

The Drews were among the more impoverished families in New Jersey, and Joey's father briefly worked in the silk industry to make end's meet before opening his own shoe store (that his mother oversaw profits for as the accountant). As such there were obvious limitations to a lot of Joey’s upbringing (like a lack of toys to entertain him with, and very few family vacations/trips that were memorable).

According to Joey, the shoes sold at his family’s store were primarily designed for people in the working class (clunky shoes and boots that would endure wear and tear rather than be flashy or comfortable to wear, which Joey complained never really fit him right), and had one singular design that was simply improved upon rather than any variety (I suppose the saying here would be “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke” but Joey really seemed to have some sort of issue with this, as he disliked his father’s works).

Joey's mother was a hardworking housewife and the primary parent when it came to rearing her child. She educated and played with him more than his father, so Joey was much fonder and emotionally close to her than to him and, while Joey’s father wasn’t an absent parent by any means, he was definitely more engrossed in working to sustain the family.

This family dynamic definitely had some impact on Joey, especially since his mother got him interested in the art of storytelling in general, and he seemed to have a lot more respect for her than for his father. In fact he even had a few reservations regarding his father’s mental integrity when he discovered his talent for making voices in a rather odd manner.

It should be noted here that, while Joey's father was strong, he looked deceptively frail and wasn't considered a particularly brave man by any means. He was however regarded as a bit of an entrepreneur, and Joey was very concerned that he may not be sane (which was a bit of taboo at the time, considering treatment for mental health issues hadn’t advanced past lobotomies and other disturbing medical malpractices) because he talked and sang to himself in curious little voices while he worked. Curiously enough, while a patient and loving man, Joey's father wasn't aversed to cursing around his young son (although Joey himself doesn't seem to use crass language, even if it was normalized in the household). Another curious thing to note is that Joey greatly dislikes mud, and especially hated it as a child (alluding to his later obsessive cleanliness as an adult).

Because of the financial issues his family suffered through, Joey didn't have a radio or many books growing up, and was thus more fond of Vaudevilles (specifically theatrical comedy, tragedy, and bizarre/surreal acts) which were pretty common in his city of birth. This interest for theatrics and third person story perspectives mixed terribly with later events in his life, like how at age 10 he witnessed a potential murder/suicide (Jesus christ...). Through this event he realized that there were different kinds of people in specific situations, especially when faced with the finality of death. Joey goes so far as to describe how theatrical the death was (Almost sounding disconnected from the reality of the situation as he noted that the crowd and even his own father seemed more like characters to him than real people). However, since Joey's neighborhood was ripe with strange people, he wasn't unfamiliar with bizarre events happening around him. Seeing a motorized ambulance was more amazing to a 10 year old him than actually caring for the death of a stranger at the front of his father's store.

At age 12, Joey went to Coney Island for the first time, and the journey excited him greatly since he didn't get to leave home very often. The trip to Coney Island was magical in a sense, and later in life he hoped to replicate it in Bendyland to a more permanent degree (the trip back home ruptured the magical effect, which he didn't want to happen with Bendyland).

Joey has his own set of rules he plays by which he considers his life’s philosophy that he calls "The Illusion of Living". This was inspired by several events in his life, including his father passing the time by playing make believe (the Shoemaker and the Elves). This unique perception of what illusion and reality are (“the same thing”), seems to point to Joey having developed a dissociative personality disorder from a young age, which got progressively worse as he grew older. This in addition with the ADHD patterns he displays in his confusing rambling writing (and Joey rambles a LOT), and the almost OCD behaviour in regards to cleaning up after himself, indicates Joey lacked impulse control and was more prone to listening to intrusive thoughts.

Joey's view of reality was often confusing to others and he greatly enjoyed poking fun out of slowly getting them to his point of view. Conversations with Joey were thus quite frustrating to some, but no less curious to others that actually tried to understand what the “Illusion of Living” was about (Like Nathan). According to Joey, only a few people ever got close to understanding it.

Joey enlisted to fight in the first war after he lied about his age (He was 15 years old, a year younger than the required age to enlist at the time). Out of all the positions in the army, he seemed most interested in comms, and considered himself more decent in communicating than actually fighting in the front lines.

It seems like Joey greatly enjoyed how he looked in uniform, and was also particularly finicky about his looks in general despite being in boot camp.

He made friends in the army, Private Donaldson and Private Eckhart, which Nathan (who worked at the tech lab that Joey later worked for) attests to being accurately described in the book. They were slightly older than Joey and were also interested in communication tech and shared his sense of humor. They also influenced Joey's social life, and tried to get him to date some gals that he wasn’t remotely interested in (the first indication that he may not be straight).

Another close friend Joey had in the army was Lottie (a communications officer) and he used to "chaperone" her whenever the four went out to party. He seemed to have a considerable amount of respect for her (which is likely a result of growing up observing his mother, thus understanding that women were competent in positions where other men would scoff at the idea of them working at all). As such he was quite supportive of the War's “Hello Girls” (comms female officers). Interestingly enough this contradicts Joey's sexist persona that he seems to take on in Dream Come to Life (a mask that seems to be among many others he employs to fit in with the rest of society).

Lottie was his special gal pal in the platonic sense and, while he often ate alone to be left with his thoughts, she usually sought him out to talk to.

Joey only ever empathized with people he was close to, often reserving telling stories to comfort his friends specifically. It was the only way he could brighten their day (which later supposedly helped a disillusioned Lottie when she was sent to serve in London). What one could take away from Joey’s days as a soldier was that he was incredibly perceptive in terms of studying people. He easily recognized people’s handwriting, and was greatly fascinated by others’s personalities.

He could also easily charm people just from reading into what they might be interested in, and liked the thought of subliminally impressing others (which he later incorporated into his cartoons). It’s never mentioned, but Joey was likely honorably discharged since the war ended in 1918 and didn’t need to return to the service of the military when the second world war hit (keeping in mind Joey appears to have mobility issues later in life, he might have not been fit for field duty).

At age 19 Joey ended up involved in investigating the murder case of Walter Richmond, a signal corps soldier Joey met briefly in his service days. The victim in question was responsible for documenting the war efforts, not being necessarily that great of a photographer, but taking a certain amount of pleasure in capturing the most viscerally gruesome pictures possible for shock value. How Joey got involved was a curious thing in of itself, since he didn’t know the victim all that well, nor cared to get to know him. Detective Adam Sinclair (a tall hulking man wearing the typical trenchcoat and fedora combo, who’s most noticeable features were his aged face and unshaven 5’o’clock shadow) tracked him down to his little minimalistic (and obsessively clean and tidy) apartment to question him. Joey was initially unsurprised that an ex-soldier ended up dead (not from the war, but likely ptsd), and was instead surprised that it was a murder case. He ended up inserting himself into the case as Sinclair’s shadow to help solve it. The reason was mostly out of self-interest, but his perspective did seem useful to the detective in the end. Throughout the investigation Joey displayed a few particular traits that indicate his attentive and peculiar nature, such as the way he reads others (their way of dressing and upkeep of posture), the manner of which he judges a good handshake, his distaste for smoking (which was taught to him via the idea that if something smells bad it’s usually bad for you) and drinking (he tries to be careful with alcohol intake in general, as he’s more accustomed to beer than drinks like champagne which one could over-indulge recklessly without noticing). Joey’s fascination for taboo subjects (war, violence, and death specifically) is also noted when he observes the victim’s photographic works.

This is a prevalent theme in an art gallery event where these particular subjects seemed to linger strongly in his mind, to the point where he noticed when one of the photos he recalls having seen before during his brief meeting with Richmond, appeared to be missing from the display. A detail that appeared to be dismissed by others, but of great interest to Sinclair.

During this same gallery event, there was an incident set up by the murderer that involved a firecracker and a crowbar that set off a lot of panic. Joey’s work at the signal corps labs saved him from the brutality of the trenches, but he's apparently familiar with the effects of severe PTSD (And ironically notes that reliving the same painful event over and over again is his definition of true horror/personal hell).

It became very apparent to both Joey and Sinclair that the murderer was amongst them, and that this onslaught of panic was a message: That the murder of the frontline photographer was personal.

They did in fact come into contact with the perpetrator and, after a while of radio silence between Joey and Sinclair, the case was solved with...Minimal success. While Sinclair knew who killed Walter Richmond, he unfortunatelly did not have enough proof to convict her (the sister of a casualty of war that could have easily been saved, had Richmond not left him for dead because it fit his narrative of the war just fine), thus allowing her to get away with literal murder. Worse yet, the resolution of the case seemed to further disconnect Joey from reality and consequence. He gained a disdain for Adam Sinclair where once he’d respected him as an authority figure of sorts, finding that he’d accomplished his role and still failed miserably. In the end, the only thing to come out of teaming up with Sinclair was learning a social skill that Joey employed later on, by mirroring back certain aspects of a person so they’d be more comfortable around him. Otherwise the detective became nothing more than a distant memory. Unimportant in Joey’s later narrative.

Two years later, Joey started working for a bookstore where he began satiating his vast hunger for knowledge, now that he had access to all sorts of books he could never afford as a child. Joey is fairly well read with an interest in various genres, although it was previously noted that during his army service people made fun of him for especially liking fictional novels. Joey being Joey however, wasn’t overly fussed about others’s opinions on what he sought enjoyment from, especially when it came to storytelling. Aside from getting his reading quota filled out, his bookstore job also helped him develop his salesperson skills through reading his customers. Through his experiences with his father’s shop and shadowing Sinclair, he had by now understood that people were highly superficial, and that he could apply whatever knowledge he gathered from them into how he sold his pitch to them. His charisma seemed to lure in customers.

While working at the store he met Abby Lambert who he immediately noticed had an eye for art. Joey quickly became friends with her and seemed to greatly appreciate her no-nonsense attitude towards life in general, going so far as to respect her capabilities as a working lady where other men would be disdained with her difficult attitude. In fact, he wondered why anyone wouldn’t hire her to do a job she could clearly handle, just because she was a woman (again contradicting his sexist persona). As a connoisseur of the arts, Abby was the one to fully introduce Joey to her favourite craft. He especially took an interest in Impressionism and its influences.

Abby also supposedly introduced Henry to Joey, which the latter insists wasn’t really that remarkable of an event since Henry was “unimaginative” and “lacking in talent” due to his specialty in cartoon caricatures, and not the richer awe inspiring paintings Joey seemed to prefer (basically Joey spends any given time in the book trying to make Henry seem as insignificant as possible out of pure unadulterated pettiness, which physically pains me).

Ironically, in terms of entertainment, Joey later favoured cartoons as the more appealing form of films since most other mediums didn’t really spark his interest, even if the genres were ones he found fascinating (I suppose that despite films being works of fiction most times, Joey likely thought real life actors were far too limited in their acts due to the natural limitations of the human body).

Returning to Abby, her friendship seemed to be more impactful to Joey than most others. Like with how he preferred his mother’s company to his father’s, Abby seemed to be one of few people he actually felt comfortable around, to the point where her criticism didn’t bother him. She was also mindful of him, where she could recognize Joey’s “preferences” and made it a point to clarify to him that their outings were purely platonic so he wouldn’t get uncomfortable in those situations.

Three years after meeting Abby and Henry, Joey became a manager at the bookstore and Henry began working there as well (by Joey’s suggestion it seems), and only then did they sort of start developing a meek little friendship of sorts (although Joey seems very dismissive about it and focuses primarily on Abby).

During that time, the idea to start his own business came about from two different events that happened that year. The first being his first ever theatrical script that he wrote and performed with Abby at a gallery event. During the performance of this little play (the theme of which was an angel and a demon discussing their role in influencing a mortal’s life), Joey discovered that he greatly enjoyed controlling situations and got way too into it (even considers what he could get away with in the name of entertainment, such as if he could act out actual violent or scandalous behaviours if he proclaimed it a part of the show).

The second event was his father sending him shoes once a year (which, because Joey disliked the make of his father’s shoes, he tried to get him to stop by pretending they weren’t arriving at his address or that they were getting stolen). As a means to ensure he got them, Joey's father started sending the packages to the bookstore. A doodle and writing on the package ended up inspiring Joey to create his own studio as he wanted to take flight in the entertainment industry.

Having thus decided that he wanted to open up a film studio of some kind, Joey immediately set off to get himself a memorable mascot. He had a vague idea of what he needed and what might be appealing to an audience, but he wasn’t particularly skilled in character design and openly admitted to this. Abby, who was also not particularly good at drawing cartoons, understood that her more realistic style wouldn’t really help (or appeal to) Joey, so she enlisted Henry’s help. Knowing that Joey was a bit picky in regards to how he evaluated art, she thought perhaps she could persuade him to take a liking to Henry’s works (which he wasn’t particularly fond of, due to Henry mostly working with pen-drawings of cartoon characters and caricatures that looked very unremarkable to him) if he could only see him actually work his “magic”. Joey was reluctant to bring Henry into his business plan, but upon actually reaching a design within a few minutes (that took a few tries experimenting with animal and human features in more detailed and then simplified ways) of Joey giving some directions, he seemed to be sold on bringing Henry on board.

Henry designing the company mascot was thus the final push to open up Joey Drew Studios.

The two began their partnership not too long after, and from then on out things got interesting very quickly.

The history behind the studio is...Not an easy one to validate in terms of whether or not Joey is sincere or even really knows certain dates (the more I look into the beginning of the book and the later exposition of information, the more I realized either Joey was starting to trip himself up on dates or his memory was visibly failing him). There are a lot of discrepancies in the dates provided, with some going back on how long Henry remained in the studio (even claiming to have at some point surrounded him with other animators and even a lead artist a year prior to his departure), when Sammy and Jack were hired (He says he hired Sammy in 1929 during the Wallstreet Crash, but later says he hired both him and Jack after the Wallstreet Crash), among other things... Joey Drew Studios was primarily funded by Mrs. Richmond (the mother of Walter Richmond), as Joey had forged friendships with the people involved in the case he’d helped Sinclair investigate (including the murderer whom he had grown to respect).

While other investors aren’t really brought up, it’s implied Nathan also had a hand in helping the studio taking off, as Joey often met up with him at the Russian Tearoom whenever he could. During these private meetings, Nathan would impart advice on Joey. Advice which he seemed to not care for, as he already had his own concerns at the time.

It seemed that his main plan was to acquire a talented and capable team to achieve his dream. A team Joey thought he wouldn’t need to "baby-sit", as he specifically wanted to hire individuals that were as studious and capable as he saw himself (curiously Joey mentions that Henry’s work ethic was exactly what he wanted, as Henry had never held work back or needed to be checked up on, which to Joey was an invaluable attribute).

For at least two years, the Bendy Cartoons were nothing but silence and sound effects (something we actually see in-game in BatIM Chapter One when the projector suddenly turns on and we hear nothing but the clicking of the projector and Joey’s whistling), which put them at a bit of a disadvantage when it came to competing with other animation studios.

This soon changed when Joey came across Sammy Lawrence and Jack Fain at a party he was attending on his 30th birthday (which he wasn’t celebrating, the party was a completely different event so supposedly Joey doesn’t care much for his own birthday).

He was already familiar with Sammy’s musical skills (mostly playing the piano quite masterfully), as he’d seen him perform at the theater when Sammy was still a teenager. Noticing him and Jack at the party was entirely accidental and was mostly due to the fact that, while Sammy was trying to keep out of the spotlight as he played, Jack’s showmanship shone through and caught Joey’s eye with how boisterous he was in their musical performance.

Joey approached them once their act was done and managed to convince them to work for him. Jack seemed to be immediately on board, while Sammy was a little more guarded in his agreement and immediately set up his stipulations for the job. This seemed to lean Joey’s interest towards Sammy (who Joey was unhealthily fascinated with because he was clearly not an easy man to control) more than Jack (who he likely considered too easy a read in terms of character, thus not much of a challenge to sway or condition).

By 1933 Joey officially bought the entire building the studio was set up in (which up until then was occupied by other people seeking their own ventures). Expansion and new hires likely started a year or so later and continued on despite financial instability, and between 1941 and 1942 Joey was already starting to work out how he’d get Bendyland to be just as perfect and spectacular as he had always envisioned (which was difficult because he never really got it to feel just right in his eyes, and something felt off to him).

In between listing several different projects, vaguely describing an innovative techniques (Sillyvision which seems to be linked with the Golden Ink?), and even setting up his own 7 rules on how to animate to help set up a guide for aspiring animators, Joey slowly drifts away from the studio topic and finalizes his book rather abruptly.

He insinuates there’s a lot more for him to tell but little to no connection with the “Illusion of Living” philosophy and he’d rather focus on his actual physical work with the Studio than sit down and write further, so he finishes off on a rather...Vague note.

--{On Joey Drew}--

Year of Birth - 1901 (Day and month are never mentioned, but it's possible that his favouring of the autumnal season alludes to a fall month) Year of Death - ??? (Supposedly he's died, hence why Nathan claimed the Bendy IP) Birth City: Born and raised in Paterson "Silk City", New Jersey (Joey doesn't seem to have an accent, so he likely masks it, or made an effort to lose it). Physical Characteristics: As a child he used to have curly hair (Considering the era’s general fashion and style, it’s very likely that Joey either cut his hair too short to see the curls, or simply uses too much gel to seem more presentable) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Homosexual with Demiromantic subtones (Joey seems to be closed off in general, but more appreciative of the male figure. Could be interpreted as demisexual however, since Joey himself doesn't seem to like wasting time around people he doesn't have much of a bond with) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Joey and his opinions on certain things and people. There’s a lot to look at as this man rambles like an old lady at a friday night bingo event, and thus I had a lot to take in!

Laughter is important to him.

Seems to be a dog person.

Likes Cheerios (yes this was a super necessary detail I had to jot down).

Considers having his ideas disclosed without permission to be disloyal.

Seems to have some sort of dissociative personality disorder (likely brought on by trauma or another undiagnosed mental disorder).

People-Watcher by nature.

Was taught by his father that the shoe makes the man (aka the art of studying people through their shoes).

Joey believes in the saying "The Truth is in the Pudding", a saying his mother often employed.

Never had enough money to own a pair of nice fitting shoes until he was 26.

Is narcissistically vain. Easily takes insult if people assume he can't look presentable.

His service in the army gave him experience with "experimental tech".

Enjoys music a lot, and he was considered a great dancer.

Finds modern feminine fashion standards appealing.

Disliked the way those with money romanticized lacking material gains. Found it personally disrespectful in a way, since he himself came from a poor family.

Seems appalled by too much color on one's wear (Joey is the goddamn fashion police).

Very picky about the arts.

Apparently disliked Henry's art style(???).

Lets people believe Henry is the creator of the toons, in an act of being holier than thou. (You lying son of a gun, stop lying to everyone and yourself whaddahell).

Joey's analogy of Henry starting a journey but Joey being the one to reap the benefits, is likely the truest thing he's said in this nightmare of a novel (boastful bastard...).

Thinks of Bendy as his firstborn, muse and messenger.

Took an art class with Abby (likely not a full art course, just a simple class to get the gist of it?).

Considers art the doorway to immortality.

Doesn't like post-mortem success (it frightens him, even). He'd rather be successful in his lifetime.

Admits to making mistakes, but not many. He also thinks mistakes don't need to be permanent.

Doesn't know what true rest is like, and is unsure if he'll ever be content enough to rest. On that same note he seems to really hate sitting still and his mind tends to wander, which he notes Nathan recognized with ease, even reserving a specific look for him (It’s the ADHD baby).

His friend Kyle was a lazy person and a gossip, which were traits Joey found annoying.

On their first meeting, Joey described having a desire to shove Sammy off a roof to see a more human reaction from him.

Assumes Jack is jealous of the attention he gives Sammy, or that the duo's relationship is strained, despite him barging into their lives out of the blue and making him feel like a third wheel.

Seems to think of himself as some sort of a messenger (going so far as to akin himself to the god, Mercury). His life’s mission is to help those who don't know they need to be helped (mostly through spreading happiness and laughter in such a dark and dreary era of human history). Bendyland is essentially Joey's means to fulfil this desire, as well as to chase his own need for a properly realized mixture of immersion and illusion.

He wanted Bendyland to be perfect, even the plot of land it might be built in needed to be perfect, so he inspected it himself with Nathan once he bought the deed.

Appears to refuse to call Bertrum by his proper name once he’s corrected the first time. Referring to him instead as either Bertie or Bert (toying with him perhaps? Testing boundaries?)

Doesn't drive. He instead hired a personal driver, Simmons.

For a little while he was living the American Dream, but thought of how he lived as less of a shared goal and more of a personal one (again setting himself apart from others).

His days were quite flexible and he seemed to despise set routines. He also doesn't like sleeping in. He liked to take a walk in central park early in the morning.

Joey used to make his rounds around the studio but the installation of the Ink Machine changed that habit a bit.

Nonchalantly notes that Shawn Flynn got a little defensive if he needed to be corrected on his work (OCD much, Joey? He was painting a lot of dolls by hand, slipups happen...).

He had priority meetings with Sammy, "meetings" with Jack (Sir what are these quotation marks for, are you snogging Jack while no one’s watching???), then met with the art department preceding the writing department, and finally he met with Grant Cohen in accounting to discuss finances and budget.

He had the final say in ALL paperwork regarding studio affairs.

Upon reading about it, found the concept of bringing in real animals to produce Disney's Bambi as funny, and joked about how trying to do so with Bendy and Boris would be chaotic.

Noted that Abby and Sammy were likely the only two people who closely understand the philosophy of the illusion of living, but not quite…

Was terrified of being misunderstood. Joey didn’t want to only be able to show half-truths, like a mirror reflecting the world darkly. Rather ironic considering he was quite deceitful in his adult life.

His desire for the world to love Bendy seems to be a projection of wanting to feel loved himself (quite honestly if one were to apply the theory of the id, ego and superego, it seems to me that Bendy is essentially Joey’s id, while Joey himself could be considered the Superego. The chameleonic social mask he wears is thus the ego. At the end of the day Bendy and Joey are and aren’t the same entity...).

Originally he didn't want to make a memoir (likely because he can't be direct and needs to work around the truth to fit him). It could also be that Joey didn’t want to linger on the past nor in death. He wasn't sure where it fit with his philosophy and thus tried not to explore too deep into it (existential dread?).

He wore custom tailored suits, and as of beginning writing TioL he had recently taken to wearing cravats (ever the vain man I suppose…).

Despite considering revisiting the past unnecessary, he couldn’t deny doing so if the time called for it. In fact, the Archives are Joey's memories of the past and he's sentimental enough to collect mementos of bygone eras.

Joey has trophies at home, the deeply personal things he couldn’t bare part with. Like the first sketch of Bendy, a napkin with the design of Bendyland, a letter from Henry, a ticket from a Vaudeville show, and his set of shoes he wore when he was surveying the plot of land where he planned to build Bendyland.

--{On Bendy}--

Notes: Here are a few notes I’ve compiled about the Little Devil Darling himself, and a few curiosities about his creation and the inspiration behind his character.

Bendy was officially created in 1928. According to Joey he was born of a dream, supposedly out of necessity, and he always had this idea of a little devil character doing mischief.

Bendy started off as a realistic little boy with a tail and horns (Abby’s attempt to bring to life Joey’s vague idea). Then, when Henry got involved, he became a cartoonish goat creature. The concepts were quickly worked out from a toony clothed amalgamation of both previous concepts, to a more intermediate design more closely resembling Bendy, and then finally, after Joey requested a simpler more shapely and less detailed toon, Bendy became the iconic little imp clad in only gloves and bowtie.

Joey named him upon seeing the completed design. There are two origins for his name: That of Walter Benjamin Richmond, who’s nickname in life was “Bendy” (a rather morbid homage considering what happened to him), and the mere fact that in Joey’s eyes, his little cartoon imp “bent all the rules”. Henry seemed to appreciate the name.

Bendy is meant to be the devil on one’s shoulders, much like the devil in Joey’s first theatrical play. He is however, a lot more like a little kid playing pranks on people. He is also a sort of embodiment of both the population and human morality (society at its most flawed point, but also quite relatable).

Buster Keaton was an inspiration for Bendy’s many shenanigans and movements, which were always meant to be fluid and a bit bouncy.

--{On Henry Stein}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Henry is, but I assume he’s around the same age group as Abby, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that he’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - 1963 (It’s not really confirmed if Henry died when he was put into the Cycle, as he doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about himself, but it’s safe to assume the process very likely involves human sacrifice). Birth City: ??? (Unknown, it could be that he was born and raised in New York but Henry lacks a noticeable accent) Physical Characteristics: Average looking? (Irrelevant, he could honestly look like anyone really...) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Presumably Heterosexual (He’s a married man in the 1930s-1960s, he’s either straight or hiding his sexuality, he seems to really like Linda however so could go either way really...) Notes: Here the few notes I could gather of the Henry info we got from TioL. It’s not much but its at least something to work with!

Henry is unremarkable appearance wise (to the point Joey forgot his face easily at first).

The way Henry dressed (mismatched and ill-fitted) indicates he likely grew up in poverty and likely only had hand-me-downs.

He mostly worked with pen-drawn cartoon character designs that were unremarkable but distinctly caricature-like (the Butcher Gang concepts were likely displayed in the gallery Joey attended, as noted by a comment he makes about them). Even if Joey apparently didn’t particularly like his style, Henry’s artwork was one of the final inspirations for the creation of Joey Drew Studios.

He is described as able to draw quite fast, great at taking directions, and as being a good animator. Overall Henry never really had any real need for someone to keep an eye on him which made him an exemplary worker.

According to Joey, Henry used to give pep-talks before he left the studio. This seemed to annoy Joey considerably for some reason (perhaps he was envious that Henry was generally a more likeable person).

Henry is remembered as forgettable, whereas Joey is flashier and more memorable.

Interestingly enough, Henry never claimed to own the design of Bendy, and was more interested in being business partners with Joey than starting a fuss about who owned the rights to Bendy’s creation (It’s very likely that he willingly gave Joey the design because Bendy was his character, and that instead the designs Joey did steal were that of Boris the Wolf, Alice Angel, and the Butcher Gang, the five other more notorious characters in the Bendy franchise).

--{On Abby Lambert}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Abby is, but I assume she’s around the same age group as Henry, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that she’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - Possibly 1946 (Upon finally losing himself to the ink, Sammy seemed to have been actively hunting the Art Department and any stragglers that he encountered in the studio, so it can be assumed she died in the chaos) Birth City: ??? (Unknown but more likely to be born and raised in New York than Henry) Physical Characteristics: Frizzy hair, even when bobbed. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Bisexual (She seemed to be acutely aware of Joey’s “peculiarities” so it’s possible she’s either a member of the LGBTQ community or perhaps an ally. Whatever the case it’s up for debate and interpretation.) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Abby and some of her traits and mannerisms. There was surprisingly a lot more to work with than I expected.

She wasn’t really into the typical female fashion of the time. In fact, Abby wasn’t exactly fond of the typical mannerisms associated with women and was both notoriously rude and dressed herself in a “scandalously” modern manner (which is basically code for more practical less femenine clothing).

According to Joey, Abby is a very focused and determined person, which is why he admired her greatly. She didn’t know when to quit, however, and sometimes took things too far or involved others in situations or projects they didn’t want to be involved in.

She wasn’t very good at drawing original cartoon characters, and Joey was apparently not overly fond of her attempts at putting his ideas to paper due to her more realistic art style.

Abby was very insistent on Joey looking at Henry's works, even if he wasn't particularly interested in them (While it’s never said if she enjoys his art herself, it can be assumed she appreciates it enough that she’d want their mutual friend to see the potential Henry had).

She didn’t join the studio as the replacement Director of the Art Department until 1931, as during its founding she was still finishing art school. She and Henry never worked together. Despite this, she and Henry remained in touch even after he left for Pasadena.

--{On Sammy Lawrence}--

Year of Birth - ??? (From how Joey describes him, it can be assume Sammy was a teenager around either Joey’s early or late 20s before they officially met on Joey’s 30th birthday) Year of Death - 1946? (Sammy is one of few people who was turned without being killed first so it’s hard to tell if he’s really dead even within the Cycle since it’s a time loop...) Birth City: ??? (Sammy lacks a noticeable accent so it’s hard to tell where he’s from). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as bird-like and insect-like, with either brown or blond hair that’s kept longer than the typical fashion of the time (Not much more is known about his actual appearance but it can be assumed he’s either average sized or on the tall side considering his in-game height and build) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Biromantic with a lot of Demiromantic subtones. Possibly Asexual? (Again this is pure speculation on my part because he did seem interested in Susie but isn’t really a people person in general. Does seem to know how to reign in people tho, so ???) Notes: Here are a few curious notes I’ve compiled about Sammy, the circumstances behind his hiring, and how much control he actually had as the music director.

He has an unusual appearance that, while not necessarily described as ugly, was clearly outstanding enough that some people were put off (Buddy) and others thought him handsome (Susie). His hair is also described as messy.

Sammy is an avid smoker.

He was among a few other musicians employed by the theater to drown out projector sounds and match the mood in silent films. Because he was good at improvising music on the spot, Sammy was excellent at carrying the story presented on screen through his melodies, which was what caught Joey’s eye when he first saw Sammy perform.

Sammy also recognized Joey and didn’t believe his dismissal that he was a “town person”. In fact, Sammy pinpointed the recognition to the fact Joey was that one loner that sat in the front row of the theater he played at.

It becomes very apparent that Sammy is suspicious of people in general. The way he observes others indicates he’s had some sort of struggle growing up. As such, he’s not big on sustaining conversations and he managed to aggravate Joey slightly by the way he addressed him on their first proper meeting.

Sammy had a songbook he shared with Jack, meaning they had a strong trust bond, which is why he only agrees to work for Joey based on Jack’s willingness to also be hired. Even so, he immediately set up professional boundaries for his position. He hired his own people without Joey’s interference, and he only ever indulged him if Joey was being particularly exasperating.

It’s very likely that since Sammy was the one hiring who worked for the music department, that he was the one who hired Norman Polk. This theory is made stronger by the fact he immediately demanded a projector and projectionist booth so he could better do his job.

Despite his surly disposition, Sammy is a no nonsense sort who wants things done and over with, rather than sit around and stall. As such Joey considered him one of the best decisions he made in terms of career.

Funnily enough, because the band seemed to be skittish around Joey, Sammy specifically prohibited his presence in the music department unless they had a scheduled meeting. This likely meant Joey was scarcely ever seen in the music department so as to not aggravate Sammy in person.

Alice Angel’s bigger (and failed) presence in the franchise is likely a consequence of another one of Sammy’s stipulations upon being hired. He had immediately noted that if the studio wanted to go anywhere, they’d need a female character (Perhaps Sammy really believed what he told Susie due to despising Bendy and actually favouring Alice as a character).

--{On Jack Fain}--

Year of Birth - ??? (Possibly around the same age as Sammy or a little older?) Year of Death - ??? (He was gone long before a few other people in the studio, likely in the first few experiments Joey performed) Birth City: ??? (Hard to tell, he doesn’t have an easily identifiable accent). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as an atrocious dresser (This man likes wearing bright colors!) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Homosexual subtones (Not enough information provided to tell) Notes: Sadly lacking in the information department for Jack.

Jack is incredibly sociable and trusts easily. He's described as making bad jokes but laughing genuinely at them. His smiles are contagious.

Jack is an optimist sort who sees the good in any situation (even when being led around in a dark creepy room by a peculiar stranger).

--{On Bertrum Piedmont}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was retired, so it’s likely he was around his 60s or early 70s when Joey first met him) Year of Death - ??? (It’s unknown when exactly he ended up in the Ink Machine but it’s very possible he was killed when all hell broke loose in the studio) Birth City: ??? (No clue). Physical Characteristics: Joey describes him (rather rudely) as a very portly man. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (No idea, chief...) Notes: Lacking in the information department like Jack, but what we get is a lot more substantial.

Bertrum was actually retired when Joey managed to get a hold of him. It took a bit of detective work on Mrs. Rodriguez's (Joey's secretary) part to actually find him as well, so he was not an easy man to get an appointment with.

His creative vision impressed Joey enough that the latter he ignored his apparent dislike for reminiscing so as to get him on board of the Bendyland project.

While discussing the Bendyland Project, Bertrum confidently jokes about it being quite the catch. He agrees to joining forces with Joey as long as he gets full creative control of the entire project. Although Joey agreed to this, he still managed to fight Bertrum on a few ideas, which annoyed him greatly.

It’s very likely that it didn’t take long for their initially friendly relationship to sour into open hostility on Bertrum’s part.

--{On Wally Franks}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No clue, but he was very likely in his late teens or early adult years when he was first hired as the studio Janitor) Year of Death - Supposedly still alive (I really do hope he got outta there like the letter insinuates...) Birth City: Brooklyn, New York. Physical Characteristics: ??? (All we know is he likely wears overalls and a sport’s cap) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Possibly Heterosexual (Unless the letter is a forgery, he apparently has a wife, kids and grandkids) Notes: I’ll admit I didn’t expect to get Wally lore, but here we are!

Wally's actually quite skilled with maintenance. He can tinker with the projectors, other machinery and even plumbing. His schedule is a little off however, but Joey turns a blind eye to it because he gets the job done without question.

--{On Allison Pendle}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No idea! But she was relatively well known when she was hired!) Year of Death - ??? (She was likely lured back to the studio after everything went down but before Henry) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: She’s a beautiful tall blonde according to DCTL Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (She and Thomas are married but I honestly have no clue how to feel about her, she’s a mystery to me.) Notes: Extra minimal Allison lore for your Allison Pendle lore needs.

She was a famous Broadway actress before joining the studio. Interestingly enough, Joey was the one to hire her to replace Susie, not only breaking Sammy’s stipulation on the matter but also stirring Susie into becoming resentful towards Sammy and actually trying to recover her former role at all costs (even her own life).

--{On Nathan Arch}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was likely a little older than Joey since they were in the army at the same time but Joey lied about his age to enlist earlier) Year of Death - N/A (Still alive and kicking) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: ??? (I guess Boswell Lotsabucks is sorta modeled after him so go off on that???) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Heterosexual (He has a wife and son and doesn’t give me any other vibes besides and overall instinctual distrust) Notes: Oh boy...I do NOT trust this man...

Immediately upon beginning reading TioL you get the impression that Nathan is not only trying to appear friendly and trustworthy by referring to himself as Nate A, but also that he’s trying to cover for Joey and make him appear more personable to the reader. But to what gain exactly?

Nathan is, like Joey, very narcissistically vain, and is also writing a book of his own (an autobiography maybe?)

He’s a smoker and prefers cigars.

When Joey discusses his childhood, Nathan is unable to contradict or confirm anything as he noted that Joey was always very private about his origins.

Nathan seemed truly surprised and impressed with Joey’s ability to make up uncannily believable stories, even suspecting that his accounts of “Lottie” might have been false as he couldn’t find any of the supposed letters Joey sent her when he started working on republishing TioL (it’s likely he could see that Joey often lied to himself just as much as he lied to others).

It seemed to Nathan that Joey was rather oblivious of subtle compliments.

By the manner of which Nathan phrases it, he seems to think of Joey as a professional and kind man, capable of seeing the good in others. That said, Nathan remarks that Henry's departure was a great betrayal for his friend, and that the latter shouldn't have been so "gracious" and "forgiving" towards him…

When the studio began to struggle financially, Nathan worried that Joey might not be aware of the issue at all, or that perhaps he was lying to himself to cope. He also later notes that Joey’s memories seemed to have deteriorated in his old age. He was often mixing up information and seemed rather guilty, which Nathan considering to be very unbecoming of the man he knew Joey to be.

A lot of the deeply philosophical Joey and Nathan interactions seen in the book might actually have occured between Joey and Henry (the "I think therefore I am" conversation is an especially telling one for me), hence why Nathan doesn't recall them. It also seems more likely because they contradict the way Joey portrays Nathan, but seem to fit his portrayal of Henry better.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #The Illusion of Living #TIoL #Notes #Reference

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bigsteeb · 5 years

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this is gonna be a long post so bear with me, growing pains got a b i g emotional reaction out of me & I need to share my thoughts & feelings about it because jesus fucking christ.

ok first things first, someone hug this boy immediately. he’s sat in his room, still in his pajamas, in day time watching dog copter. this whole scene is just steven going “lol I’m sad, I’m gonna comfort eat & stay in my pajamas & watch a kids show I watched when I wasn’t as sad haha” & it’s not only upsetting, but relatable too fuck. his room is a mess along with him eating ice cream at what I assume is morning… making it his breakfast? geez steven. also idk if it’s just me here but in this shot he looks… bigger? like ignoring his body size shifting later on in the episode he looks a lot wider than he usually does when paul & drew board episodes to me, he’s rivalling etienne & maya’s steven’s wideness. did he… get chubbier from comfort eating? how much time has passed since together forever for him to put on weight if he has? this could literally just be steven slouching or his pajamas making him look bigger but as someone who is an advocate for the body positivity shown in su & suf it has me curious. I want to hug this soft, sad boy. It could also be due to how steven’s design fluctuates through the animation process, it’s never really on model all the time.

the grunting noise he makes in this scene is very distressing, as are other moments from the episode too. a glimpse at the glow-bracelet he proposed to connie with is enough to physically pain him? fuck me man. is he leaving his room where there’s already ice cream… to get more ice cream? sobs. also the puns in this shot. I cant? slow burn?! you’re evil crewniverse. not to mention his body size changing throughout this scene, god this poor lad.

screams, this was when I started worrying. the boy is now in an environment he has never been in before & is feeling extremely uncomfortable & vulnerable. look at the lines under his eyes, his sad eyebrows & pout I hate it. also don’t even get me started on this part. the slight raise of a voice being enough to send him into panic?! fuck I hate how much I relate to that.

here’s where I immediately broke, no god damn pun intended. seeing steven’s skeleton, steven’s fucking skull, like this pained me. that crack on his skull is from fucking jasper in jail break. I can’t express all of the visceral emotions that were going through my body at this. there was intense sadness for steven, extreme anger at jasper & the gems for allowing shit like this to happen to him. turns out he’s not as resilient as we thought he was. each hit he takes physically breaks him & then his gem instantly heals his wounds, my heart fucking broke at this. think back to everything that happened to him, everything that physically hurt him. it broke him I can’t deal with it! then there’s what priyanka says to steven next;

“you seem to of made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. you’ve recovered physically but, have you recovered mentally?”

this part here along with her reassuring him that there’s nothing wrong with his brain, how childhood trauma can have an impact on how your body responds to stress & how you act in your social life, the usage of the word “cortisol” too. this stuff being in a children's tv show is incredible. the writing for priyanka describes trauma simply enough for kids to understand, but for adults to fully realise too. folks, steven has ptsd. there wasn't one bit of sugarcoating about it or nothing, this is canon fact & it hurts me. for so long have I wanted steven’s emotional issues to be alked about, to not only be brought to steven’s attention but to the audience’s too.

everything that has happened to him has built up to this moment. this moment where his behaviour & coping methods are finally making sense to a large majority of the fandom, & to steven himself. he’s hurting; physically, mentally & emotionally, & he isn’t coping well what so ever about it. his emotional support system is complete garbage, no one regularly checks in on him & folks just take steven at face value like “oh yea glowing pink? he’s fine it’s just steven” but he’s the bad person?! I hope a lot of you out there who genuinely believe steven is a bad person re-think yourselves after this. dealing with trauma is tough as shit. some days you even wonder if that one thing that fucked you up is really worth being labelled as trauma. I still can’t believe this is the route they’re taking, if he doesn’t get some form of therapy by the end of future I’ll be furious.

then things begin to spiral as he remembers what happened with connie. he clutches his chest in pain & begins changing size over intense amounts of stress & it was extremely distressing to watch. steven immediately reassures connie that this isn’t because of her, but because of everything else that happened to him. however. I believe that that’s a slight lie, he wouldn’t of spiralled if he hadn’t of remembered the proposal, steven you fucking himbo. he continues to reassure them both that he’s fine, just that he needs them to leave so he can calm himself enough to control himself.

then this happens.

“I. CAN’T. BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!”

this was fucking intense. he means this literally in 2 ways btw. his body size shifting over the stress he’s feeling is a danger to both connie & priyanka in this moment, but it’s also because of how it started. being around connie hurts him. he’s not mad at her though let me make that very clear, just that thinking about what happened when he tired to propose to her is sending his head in a fritz. he did what he did full of confidence in together forever, for connie to then make him realise how silly he was being. these two are destined for each other, but that advice from ruby & sapphire has really fucked with him. he looks up to those 2, looks up to garnet, their relationship is so strong & stable. for them to give him that advice & to then scream “DO IT!” in his face is incredibly tasteless imo.

then greg gets here. I knew connie was calling for either greg or the gems when she was on her phone as she left the room, fuck yea connie I love you. the breathless, strained “thank you” from steven towards connie for calling his dad? g o d. connie telling him she’ll be there for him when he’s ready?! g o d. these next boards were done by rebecca, I knew immediately when I saw steven’s face. it makes sense that rebecca boarded these, because fuck.

how do I move on from all of the stuff I’ve been through? how do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die!?

I’m tearing up as I type this. when I first heard the leak of this audio I so badly wanted to believe it, but to also believe it was fake too. I was an emotional mess off & on for about 3 days over it because I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking distressing it was. like… shit steven. he seriously feels this. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he felt just saying this in front of his fucking dad. he is hurting badly. this boy, this sweet sweet boy we’ve watched grow & develop into the person he is today is distraught about his future & life. it is… soul crushing to watch this. a group of friends of mine have found joking about the episode as a form of coping with the intensity of it & as much as that’s valid as fuck, any joke coming from this episode feels morally wrong to me. I can’t bring myself to join in it feels terrible even thinking about laughing at it to cope. I love them all, but I can’t bare myself to join them. this moment ending with greg comforting steven, telling him he’s here for him & all of his struggles, got me weeping. greg is possible the best father figure I’ve seen on tv, let alone a kids tv show. he’s amazing.

the final scene right here is lovely. greg making steven a hot chocolate & listening to him vent, reassuring him over his worry for his future. this right here is exactly what steven needs. someone to talk to, someone he could trust to talk about his feelings to. this the start of his support system, tag on peri from in dreams, bis in bismuth casual as well as connie from the past few episodes & it’s already looking great! even when greg eased him about being there for him steven still feels guilty about him leaving his tour, leaving his tour because he got a phone call from connie about his son being in need & steven feels guilty about it. fucking hell man. I did enjoy how the episode ended though, with that little moment between the both of them;

“just get some rest kiddo. you don’t have to solve all of your problems in one night.”

“yea. thanks dad.”

it’s a great message too, all of your struggles can’t be dealt with all at once. I’ve used a similar analogy before but it’s like removing a dead tree. you have to deal with all of the little things surround this issue first before you get to the deep, harder stuff. along side the message about trauma they’re both very important messages, I’m glad they exist in the show.

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one more thing before I end my thoughts & feelings over growing pains.

this ending shot;

as soon as I saw the frog mug my mind raced back to the promo for this scene, & this whole moment to come entirely. if you remember this moment has the first set of leaked audio within it, the audio of the gems basically cornering steven about him not opening up to them. christ pearl even gets mad at him for his gem building a wall behind him, protecting him from them. it’s common knowledge, I hope, that steven’s gem reacts to his emotional state. pearl herself has said this;

“I think your gem is reacting to your state of mind.”

his gem building this wall? it felt like steven was being threatened by them. this scene now has awful connotations with it. because since we now know what the pink mode is doing to steven, how actually painful it is, think back to these;

yea. fuck the gems. I’ll let it slide if steven, greg or priyanka haven’t told them about what happened at the hospital. but if they do know, if they know how much it hurts steven being in his pink mode & still press into him about it I’ll see red. with steven’s trauma & now ptsd being cemented into the show I fucking hope garnet, amethyst & pearl get held accountable for what they put on him as a kid. that shit will not slide with me if they don’t. do not condone what the gems put him through. do not condone the gems for making steven feel like he had to be his mum for them. just… don’t. please.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk lmao sdngsjfhg #this episode fucked me up in more ways than one #i dont even think ill simmer down about it before next weeks episodes either #it was… a lot... to listen & deal with #i care deeply about steven as a character #& see it being canon that he has trauma & ptsd… possible c-ptsd #it fucking breaks my heart #god dammit it crewniverse #i hope you handle this with extreme care #i trust you but still… jesus christ #steven universe #steven universe future #su spoilers #su future spoilers

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maevelin · 4 years

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I know you didn't enjoy Nesta's book that much. What were the parts you didn't like and were there things you did enjoy?

I found the plot very basic and simplistic. The author has the tendency to overhype certain things and then drop the hints and the foreshadowing or write something totally anticlimactic about it.

An example for the anticlimactic part is how the former books had presented the Blood Rite as such a horrific event. One that in order to survive it Illyrians trained their whole life and then you take a few completely untrained individuals, train them basically for a few months a few hours in the mornings (I mean it is as if they went to the gym) and then they are ready to own the whole thing. It was ridiculous.

You introduce the concept of Valkyries and instead of writing an actual story about it you give a child’s play with some girls basically saying...hey they sound cool, we have no idea past the surface what and who they were or if we are basically appropriating their culture but let’s make a new club about it. I mean...why not just introduce Valkyries in a more grounded way, even the rebirth of their nation and lore, in a more realistic way? Instead you get a lost female tradition and you have males teaching girls about it. Take Thor Ragnarok for example (one movie that has not won me over as much as others). So why not introduce a new character that is a Valkyrie, even the last of her kind, a jaded character that has quit life just as Nesta and then create a story to reignite the myth of the Valkyries into something new that Nesta would accept and embrace.

Although for the life of me I don’t understand why PTSD and healing has to be connected with that sort of training in the first place. Why get a character like Nesta and turn her into a Xena type of character all of the sudden...because that’s the only way to show inner strength or any kind of strength? I just don’t get it.

However I did appreciate Nesta’s journey at certain parts although some felt forced in order to accept the Inner Circle bullshit and when people had predicted that in the end Nesta would how to bow and kneel to the ‘awesomeness’ of the Inner Circle so to be welcomed into the Night Court and be redeemed I am pretty sure no one expected this to literally happen. It gave me such a visceral reaction.

I couldn’t have disliked the IC more in this book even if I tried (and boy there were dubious, problematic and outright offensive and abusive things in their behavior) but what I didn’t like was that Nesta didn’t have an interesting story plot wise. Her journey of healing was okay and it has some interesting and beautiful moments but the story surrounding it was sloppy.

I hated the concept/threat of throwing Nesta in the Court of Nightmares but just from a creative perspective it would have made the book a thousand times more interesting. The dynamic felt off in general and in the end it felt as if the main concept was not resolved but the realization came that there was no main concept.

Say what you will for the first three ACOTAR books but they had a goal, a purpose, a target. Feysand and Feyre’s personal journey were the focus but the their books served far more than that thus making those parts work in a solid (at least as far as these books are concerned) structure. Here we got some treasure hunt but everything was left open ended and it was not even focused entirely on Nesta and Cassian. I felt robbed somehow especially given the dynamic Nesta’s powers had and based on that alone a personal story could have been built upon that potential that got wasted for the most part. We could have gotten an epic storyline and we...did not.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT? Nesta DESERVED a GREAT VILLAIN/ANTAGONIST for her own story and she did not get that (come on Briallyn was such weak sauce and unremarkable) and I am offended on Nesta’s behalf to be honest LOL

Nesta’s voice and the way she was written was reminiscent of Feyre’s at parts but I assume this is because of the writing style of the author but it still felt jarring if not OOC at parts.

And I felt that some behaviors we had seen in previous books (how Cassian avoided her in Acowar and so on) were overlooked and the good things Nesta did along with the bad (how she went after Feyre after Tamlin took her and how she was ready to sacrifice herself to give Feyre a chance and how she was so focused on saving children and so on) were completely ignored all so to ‘excuse’ how she was treated and how she deserved to be treated that way by all others and how she had to redeem herself. And yeah she had to face her wrongdoings because she had been abusive too but I felt there were double standards concerning her which I did not appreciate in the way the book was written.

In the end I found the sacrifice of her powers a beautiful thing for her personal growth but at the same time I also got the intention behind the writing that has nothing to do with Nesta’s journey and that is disappointing.

There was also the usual writing style/editing that has its issues and I got really tired with the phrase “like calls to like”. Like...okay we got it the first hundred times enough already.

All that been said there were things I enjoyed in the book too.

1. The House... which let’s face it it’s Tardis to Nesta’s Doctor.

2. Nesta’s connection with music and dancing was beautiful.

3. Her love of books? Brilliant.

4. The scene with the Kelpie? QUALITY STUFF!

5. As was the description of Nesta entering the Cauldron.

6. The scene with her nightmare engulfed in silver flames was amazing too.

7. Hello Nes and Lady Death!

8. Cassian’s protectiveness over Nesta was also nice especially when he was able to man up (no I won’t go for male up LOL) and stand up against certain bullshit behavior targeted at Nesta.

9. Emerie and Gwyn were cute and their relationship with Nesta beautiful although it did also feel rushed at parts. I would have much preferred that build up to have happened with her sisters but given the fuckery of the IC in general I will take this and savor it!

10. Azriel was a relief and I would have liked more interaction between him and Nesta. Brilliant indeed.

11. I HATED Amren but I loved the parallel of what she had once told Nesta: “When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds” and we got this scene when Nesta. (P.s You unmade her...She had it coming LMAO)

12. The cookie offer in the end made me laugh.

13. Overall Nessian was cute and thankfully Cassian wasn’t the same creep he was in Acofas. Although his low esteem and blind servitude left much to be desired at times.

14. The smut at times was making me cringe but the sexual drive and dynamic of the characters felt appropriate given their personalities.

15. I also liked Feyre’s inner thoughts when Eris asked Nesta’s hand in marriage and the way she was protective of Nesta and wanted to end him LOL.

16. Speaking of which...everyone wanting Nesta as their bride was very funny and after a while it kept happening and I couldn’t stop laughing.

17. Nesta’s first “I love you” was given to Feyre and thank you!

I think that’s about it.

#fel reads acosf #nesta #nessian #nesta archeron #acosf for ts #Anonymous

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tamisian · 3 years

Text

okay, i don’t know how many of you have listened to When Facing the Things We Turn Away From by Luke Hemmings, but just about every song on that album is an Ian Gallagher song and I can’t stop thinking about it, so i made a detailed post :)

I highly HIGHLY recommend this album. every song is linked down below except for track #5: Baby Blue, because i personally couldn’t relate it to ian, at least in the way i want it to.

under the cut so it doesn’t clog up your dashboards!!

okay, beginning with Starting Line

In and out of focus Moments that I keep Something for the pain And something so I sleep Won’t you comfort me? Warm the air that I breathe Visceral in doses Hiding in the seams Standing on the sun and I don’t feel a thing Won’t you comfort me? Take the fear I don’t need

this whole first section is so reminiscent of ian’s s5/s6 era - when he’s just getting used to his meds and is constantly trying to feel something.

I wake up every morning with the years ticking by I’m missing all these memories, maybe they were never mine I feel the walls are closing I’m running out of time I think I missed the gun at the starting line

i think so much of this can relate to that same feeling - like you’re lagging behind as everyday is just the same. ‘i’m missing all these memories, maybe they were never mine’ specifically reminds me of how weird it must feel when looking back on times he was manic (forgive me, i’m not bipolar so this is all from a viewer’s standpoint). we know ian can sometimes view his bipolar as this big impeding life sentence - ‘i think i missed the gun at the starting line’. with my own ptsd, i often catch myself feeling like i’ve missed out and had this setback that no one else has, which can only deepen depression and that laggy, slow-moving feeling.

moving onto Saigon

When facing the things we turn away from We're chasing the way we were in Saigon Oh, it's picked apart until there's nothing left of us to carry on Now we're facing the things we turn away from

now, in this song, Saigon is referring to a vacation Luke took with his fiancée to Saigon. but it can also be metaphoric. in relation to Ian, this song feels like looking back on the before. Very reminiscent of the scene where Ian takes Mickey to their spot and picks a fight, trying to get them back to how they were. he wants Mick to be the guy he fell in love with again.

Pulling me under, decline and rewind Board up my windows Tryna revive, tryna revive Oh, you never know inside those moments How good it was and how you wasted All this time alone, how long can we hold?

again, very reminiscent of s5 and also maybe season 6??? the most of gallavich we really got that season was ian saying he missed mickey when he was with mandy, and i think this can sort of relate. you don’t know what you have until it’s gone type beat. he’s trying to strike up the same feeligns with Caleb and then Trevor, but it never really gets there, as we see in the s7 gallavich reunion. there’s nothing like their chemistry - ‘what if nothing ever gives you the same thrill?’

onto Motion

With every sundown, I feel alone These hands are strangers, they ain’t my own My eyes are lying, my eyes are lying to me With every comedown, nowhere to go This simple silence is all I know You know I'm trying, you know I'm trying to leave

this reminds me so much of s4 whilst ian was manic and dancing at the club or can maybe even be from the perspective of an older ian thinking back about that time.

moving onto Place In Me which is the most ian/gallavich song EVER

Hold on I never meant you any harm Got no legs to stand on I was just dancing in the dark Now with my eyes wide open It's heaven in your arms

Hold on I never meant to start a war I was just dead wrong I know we've been in this before Now with my eyes wide open I tore you right apart

BIG gallavich s5 breakup feels. i think this perfectly depicts ian’s inner turmoil and struggle over whether or not he should end things with mickey. he thought he was seeing clearly when being with mickey was ‘heaven’ and then he thinks he’s seeing clearly when he ‘tears him right apart’ on the porch. both times he think’s he knows what he’s doing, but he’s just got no idea. he doesn’t mean to make all these mistakes or do all these ‘unusual’ things (ex. taking yevgeny, the porno) and he inadvertently ‘started a war’ or at least the downfall of their relationship. ‘i know we’ve been in this before’ - to me, this can refer to all the struggles they had to go through just to get to s5 where they were officially together. they’ve been through hell together, and yet this is the thing that ends them.

Call me in the morning, yeah I'm sorry that I let you down I'm so apathetic, it's pathetic But I need you now

this reminds me both of some post-breakup feels and also post-psych ward feels. ian feeling like he’s let everyone down, hating that he can’t feel things the way he should. ‘call me in the morning’ reminds me so much of when mickey can’t handle seeing ian like that and goes on a bender, only to show up later with ‘sorry i’m late’. ian’s just been released and he hates the meds, flushes them, still doesn’t understand that he needs them. he’s trying so deperately not to be monica but it’s clear that even so, he’s not feeling like himself either - ‘i think this is the end with mickey’ - but he doesn’t want it to be.

Don't you move Can't we just stay? Can we start over? Don't fade away

'Cause you'll always have a place in me You'll always have a place in me

one of the things i love about gallavich is how even when they’re apart, they’re both so heavily entwined in each other’s lives. they were always a part of each other, shown so deeply in the season 7 reunion and the season 9 reunion. even after everything they’ve been through, they still fit together perfectly. neither have loved anyone like they loved each other, neither have been as committed or vulnerable with someone else.

moving onto Repeat

Here in the shadow Of all that's said and done The love that you borrowed In the morning's come and gone You run from tomorrow But the madness catches up Your pain from the window Yeah, it all keeps stacking up

This is all we are, we are This is all we are

This song is so introspective and reminds me so much of s6 ian who’s just trying so hard to figure it out. This era is written a lot about in fics too, and it’s quite consistent: Ian’s doing the same thing day after day, living in repeat, unsure of who he’s become.

You seem so damn familiar But I just can't place the name You're staring in the mirror But your face won't stay the same Been waiting for so long but the moment never came If life's a game of inches, how'd you get miles away? Away

this section is super introspective, too. he can’t name himself, he looks in the mirror and doesn’t know what he’s looking at - there’s a scene just like that in early season five. he’s often written as just waiting on that moment where he’s himself again, but it never comes.

Hand to the Bible But my wrongs stay still in place Lost in thе rubble But the house stands all thе same You bet on the sorrow Now your heart is overrun You fear what you don't know Tell me, what have I become?

this section is giving me big breakup vibes as well. he’s made all these mistakes that he suddenly has to account for and monica’s convinced him that mickey will never be able to accept him without trying to fix him.

next is Mum

Mum, I'm sorry I stopped calling Don’t know what the hell I was caught in Can't stop dreaming of chandeliers And your voice is all I hear

I'm so heavy Jump into my ocean Can’t you see me sinking? Love the fear of falling Don't you know I'm too young? Can't you hear me calling you? Nothing hurts me now

this song reminds me so much of ian’s relationship with fiona. starting with s4 after he’s left, the first verse reminds me of their conversation when he comes back and all he’d sent was an ‘i’m okay. miss u’ text. ian’s slipping further into mania and no one’s seeing it (which i can’t blame them for, of course, but it’s still painful to watch). it gives me early s6 vibes too, specifically before ian was an EMT, like the scene at the bridge after the fight with lip. it’s like he’s trying to tell people he’s not sure what the fuck is going on, but he doesn’t have the words.

now onto Slip Away, another PERFECT gallavich song

Falling, falling, falling in unfamiliar space 'Cause I was drenched in you before I even knew your name

this song is about knowing you’ll have to tell your lover about all the mistakes you’ve made and all your issues, and fearing that it’ll drive them away.

Drowning out the fires As I'm lying here awake I can feel you slip away Like I knew you would Don't you leave me in this silence When you've seen all my mistakes Now I'm looking for escapes Like I knew I would

during the s5 breakup, ian’s assuming that his bipolar will eventually drive mickey away or that he’ll end up resenting him for it, so he ends their relationship before that can happen - ‘now i’m looking for escapes like i knew i would’

Stalling, stalling, stalling 'til I take the blame Yeah, I lied to you like a promisе on New Year's Day You saw me, saw mе, saw me, I got nowhere to hide Yeah, the worst of me is racing all around your mind

this section right here is a gut punch. ian’s been called out in so many ways leading up to the porch scene. he has to deal with everything he did when he was manic - taking yevgeny, the helicopter thing - then he leaves with monica, purposely ignores mickey’s calls, etc. mickey’s seen all of this - he’s literally seen ian at his worst and ian assumes that that’s all there will be now, just his mistakes. and so he breaks mickey’s heart on the porch because he thinks it’s what’s best - he’s trying to protect him, maybe the both of them

next up is Diamonds

Cut like diamonds and sink like stones Starve myself 'til I'm skin and bones I'm so much older than I ever thought I would be Hold the silence and don't let go I hurt the people I love the most I'm so much colder than I ever wanted to be

So how far is far? Are we too deep in? How dark is dark? I need to see it

similar to Repeat, ian’s just trying to figure out who he is in s6. he’s hurt the people he loves, he’s been cold and mean, and he’s older now - he’s not in high school; he needs a job, needs to think about his future and where he goes from here. it must have been easier to forget about all that when he was living with mickey, working at the club and undiagnosed. now in s6, it’s a wake up call and he’s starting to feel all the emotions that he’d suppressed before. he may be starting to feel guilt over the things he’s done or said.

I'm on the way out, losing the dream I feel it crash down, down on me Caught in the madness, it's holding on me Is this the way it will always be?

There's some things that I'll never know Past the limit it's come and gone Watch the bright eyes as they slowly sink into sleep And that same old silence that I've come to know Every time I find it when there's nowhere left to go

we’ve seen in multiple moments throughout the series that ian can sometimes view his bipolar as a life sentence - i think about scenes like the clinic with mickey, when he asks how long he’ll be on the meds, or the scene in s6 at the college with lip where ian’s talking about janitoring and says, ‘this is where i land’. even the s10 argument when ian’s asking mickey how he knows that he wants to spend forever with ‘all the versions’ of him.

next is A Beautiful Dream

I see it all here in colour It's such a beautiful dream And I look just like my mother Exactly where I should be If it could go on forever I got some living in me But I shake just like I'm my father Exactly who I should be

And nothing’s coming out right

Can’t you just stay for a while?

now, this is a short song, but very introspective. reminds me very much of lip’s season 6 line about ian feeling like he’s destined to be a piece of shit like monica because of his bipolar. v introspective. just thought i’d add it because it’s such a complex feeling and kind of bleeds into the next one:

Bloodline

The walls are bleeding red Blisters for the scars and the damage did But my pictures hanging here Didn't mean that much until it meant everything

Hmm, and I know I'm so far gone Your heart can't keep a vacancy for me Oh, only you know how long you've got to go

once again, dealing with the theme of feeling like your mistakes are too much for another person to bear.

Oh, there ain't no warning the first time Ain't no one to tell you "Run, boy, run” Like I should've done And oh, when I can't fight the bloodline Living in the seams back home

Luke wrote this song in terms of addiction, but i love how it can be related to any sort of genetic issue, just like any form of mental illness. now, it’s talked about in season 4 that the kids all sort of expected someone would get frank’s alcoholism, someone would get monica’s bipolar, but ian’s bipolar first rears it’s head after a long period he’s spent away. there was no one to pick up on warning signs or pay attention to him. his first depressive episode takes place in the milkovich house - neither mickey nor mandy have any idea what it is, hence why mickey goes to the gallagher house in search of lip.

How am I gonna know If I'm never alone? When I live in the numb And all feeling is gone?

I throw it all out the window All out the window Like it's all I'll ever be

The halls are closing in If I knew from the start, would it change a thing?

i think it’s such an interesting thought process - i have ptsd and i wonder all the time how things would be different if i was diagnosed earlier. i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts and/or experiences with this if you feel comfortable sharing!!

finally, we have Comedown

It's been a hell of a week Have I left this bedroom yet? I'll sleep this life away Until I see a reflection I can speak to With a cold breeze Maybe I can soon forget I'll wash away the bleach And clear reflections I can see through

All my life I've been beating this horse Breaking these same old wishing bones Hoping they'd bring me back to course All my life I've been passing this blame And once you get on, you won't ever get off And won't be the same

the song starts off pretty straightforward and it’s something i think most of us can relate to - depressive episodes sort of exist outside of time. i think about the way it was explained in Euphoria; you start to forget about all the things that once made you happy and your brain tricks you into thinking that life has always been this way.

Let it come down on me Let me see all the things that I was supposed to see Light up a darkness I was never meant to Climb out of like a bursting sunrise from the deepest sleep A change of heart and a silver lining down on Camellia Street Let it come down on me

then the song turns hopeful! it makes me think about s10 and s11 ian. he’s married!! he’s doing good!! runs a business!! is on his meds!! all these things that once seemed so impossible to him aren’t impossible anymore and he’s experiencing them!

I've been moving away Falling down these Penrose steps They're always digging at my heels To pull me back into the dark room Through the doorway Seeing those colors creeping in They give me something I can feel As the seconds start to take bloom

i love the way Luke describes coming out of depression here - it’s slow. ‘seeing those colors creeping in’, ‘the seconds start to take bloom’ - it doesn’t fix itself overnight. there are always things or events that threaten to take away everything you’ve worked so hard for - reminds me of s6 when ian makes a mistake on the job and is sent home, takes a downer and then sleeps it off.

it’s so important to recognize that he actually does that. he’s trying to protect the life he’s built for himself, even though it’s hard and he even verbally says that he doesn’t want to!!!

and now we’ve reached the end of the album. i could spend literal hours talking about different meanings and lyrics and ian’s story but i don’t want this post to take ages to read, so PLEASE message me or reblog or add your thoughts in the notes!! i’d love to hear what you all have to say!!

and once again, i 100% recommend this beautiful album.

#shameless us #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fiona gallagher #gallavich #ian x fiona #ian x mickey #shameless

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