#she decides to let him down easy. she is actively grieving a passing father after all. cant get into a relationship right now

[biblicalhorror]

Got upset thinking about the wasted potential of zoeys extraordinary playlist as psychological horror/thriller again :/

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow. 

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door. 

But there wasn���t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward. 

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost. 

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise. 

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed. 

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother. 

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.” 

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder. 

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.” 

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway. 

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one. 

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.” 

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning. 

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.” 

“What did they say?” 

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer. 

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.” 

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.” 

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push. 

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.” 

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.” 

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.” 

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs. 

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think. 

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened. 

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep. 

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone. 

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith. 

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do. 

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly. 

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held. 

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time. 

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift. 

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything. 

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep. 

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query. 

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good. 

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter. 

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again. 

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime. 

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps. 

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself. 

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements. 

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck. 

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area. 

“Thanks for coming down.” 

“I don’t think I had a choice.” 

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused. 

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.” 

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?” 

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.” 

“I could make three times this in the private sector.” 

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.” 

“Why me?” 

The agent opened another folder she was carrying. 

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.” 

The manilla folder shut quickly. 

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.” 

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all. 

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?” 

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.” 

“But why? I don’t know anything.” 

“You know enough.” 

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification. 

“No one.” 

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?” 

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head. 

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.” 

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.” 

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?” 

“Officially, no.” 

“Unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, no.” 

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.” 

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it. 

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?” 

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent. 

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.” 

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates. 

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people. 

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it. 

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly. 

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.” 

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.” 

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening. 

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Have a good weekend.” 

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken. 

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend. 

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?” 

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure. 

“You’re here late.” 

“You’re here.” 

“You said you’d be close.” 

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal. 

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet. 

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Care to show me around?” 

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened. 

There really wasn’t a question to it at all. 

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

NEXT

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The Tagalong - Epilogue

Fergus disobeys Jamie’s order to return to Lallybroch and instead follows them all the way to Craigh na Dun, inadvertently following Claire through the stones.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three

********************************************

Reverend Wakefield had always known about the activities his housekeeper engaged in at Craigh na Dun on various feast days, but he’d always turned a blind eye. Until he and Mrs. Graham had watched Claire Beauchamp touch the stones atop that hill with her daughter clutched in her arms, and vanish. 

She’d gone to find Roger and Fergus, to bring them back. But she’d promised if she couldn’t bring Roger back, she would at least make sure he was safe and not alone. After sitting watching the circle of stones for the better part of six hours, they gave up waiting on site and decided to wait at home. It could be days before she and the boys turned up… if they turned up at all. 

But they didn’t have to wait long for some answers.

As Mrs. Graham served tea in the library that afternoon, there was a knock at the door. A messenger sent with a letter addressed to Reverend Wakefield—a letter from Claire and Roger, dated 1941. They had left it with one of the reverend’s older parishioners, requesting it be delivered on a specific date. The messenger was her grandson who shrugged at what seemed to be a whim of his gran’s, a story and errand that suggested her mind was going, but at her age it didn’t hurt to humor her and the reverend would understand. 

Mrs. Graham thanked the young man and then ushered him out so she could find out what the letter said. 

Claire had found Roger but Fergus appeared to have ended up somewhere else. She doubted she’d be able to bring Roger back but promised he would be safe with her wherever — whenever — they finally landed themselves. Roger had included a small paragraph, his hand shakier than Claire’s. He told his father that he loved him and that he would make his way back when he was old enough to make the journey on his own.

And so, Reverend Wakefield waited. 

It was the year Roger would have turned fifteen that Mrs. Graham invited Reverend Wakefield to come to Craigh na Dun after the feast day ceremonies had concluded. She packed a luncheon and they sat side by side on a fallen tree, listening to the wind whistling through the stones and groaning in the tree limbs. 

The year Roger would’ve turned twenty, Reverend Wakefield began looking through the local histories, combing for any mention of someone who might be Roger. He didn’t know how far back he might need to go, so he simply started in 1941 and worked backward from there. He was able to eliminate Wakefields from his own family records and located a few possibilities, but nothing definitive — nothing reassuring. 

He still made the drive to Craigh na Dun the morning of each of Mrs. Graham’s druidic ceremonies, but he took his time about it. He clung to hope but it was with a practical grip, one that told him that a lot could happen in five, ten, fifteen years. Perhaps it was the stones themselves to blame. They had taken Roger without warning. Perhaps they now refused to let him return and he made similar journeys to the circle to try his hand, only to find himself stuck. 

Mrs. Graham wasn’t waiting at the base of the hill in her usual spot when Reverend Wakefield pulled up. He worried that she might have had some sort of medical episode and rushed from the car — they had both begun to show signs of their age these last few years. 

Winded, Reverend Wakefield slowed as he reached the summit of the hill and found Mrs. Graham seated on the fallen tree with a tall, dark-haired young man who could only be Roger and a red-headed lass who looked like she couldn’t be much older than seventeen or eighteen. 

“Roger?” Reverend Wakefield cried at the sight. 

The dark head whipped toward him and a glowing smile of recognition burst over his face. 

“Da!” he exclaimed, running across the stone circle and wrapping the reverend in a powerful hug. “I told ye I’d come back. I’m only sorry I took so long.” 

The young woman had risen and stepped closer, though she hesitated and shrank a bit when Reverend Wakefield turned to look at her. Roger noticed and, clapping his father on the back, took a step back and held out a hand to the lass. 

“Da, ye’ll maybe remember Bree — though I’m afraid she cannae claim to remember you,” he apologized with a teasing smirk at Brianna. 

Her cheeks flushed and she swatted playfully at Roger’s hand. 

“Aye, and I’ve a good enough excuse, havin’ only been a wean of two at the time,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Claire Beauchamp’s daughter?” 

“Fraser, actually,” Brianna spoke up, then flushed again. “Mam, that is.” She looked to Roger and cleared her throat. 

“Bree and I were handfast a little over a week ago,” Roger explained. “We wanted her whole family to be there so it was done at Lallybroch before we left. Her parents brought her siblings with them to see us off. But… you see… I was hoping that you would marry us properly.”

Mrs. Graham laughed with joy, clapping her hands and rushing in to hug the young couple. The flurry she caused helped hide Reverend Wakefield’s speechlessness. 

“So… ye’ll do it?” Roger asked, looking to his father. 

Suddenly, Reverend Wakefield saw and truly recognized the lad he’d taken in and adopted. The hope and pleading in Roger’s green eyes was the same as whenever he’d asked for just one more biscuit before bed or if Fergus could stay the night or some other treat he desired. 

And as with the majority of those requests, Reverend Wakefield felt himself nodding his agreement, just to see the bright smile break across Roger’s slightly sunburnt face. 

“It’ll no necessarily be easy—the two of ye disappeared some time ago and it’ll put everyone in a tizzy to see ye back again,” he cautioned. “But I’m sure it can be managed.”

Mrs. Graham was nodding vigorously. “There’s nae time to lose,” she remarked, starting to head down the hill. “Come, Reverend. Give them a moment,” she whispered, slipping her arm through his and ushering him away with her. “Leave them to say their last goodbyes.”

Reverend Wakefield glanced over his shoulder at his returned nephew and the young bride he’d chosen, still suffering from a bit of disbelief that they were there at all. 

Roger had slipped his arm around Brianna and was holding her close, a supportive gesture as she turned back to look at the stones they’d traveled through a short time earlier. 

Everyone knew that Roger would go back through the stones one day. He’d never been easy about how things were left with his adoptive father and he wouldn’t be until he saw him again. But as they’d gotten older, it had also gotten harder and harder for Roger to make himself go. Not if it meant leaving Brianna behind. 

So she’d chosen to go with him. Even when it meant leaving her own family behind, perhaps forever. It was why they’d had such a party come with them to see them off. 

They’d all climbed the hill, though the rest of the Frasers had taken great care to keep well away from the stones. Jamie heard nothing but kept a solid hold on William while Fergus kept his eye on Jacob. Patience refused to be put down, preferring to nuzzle against Claire’s neck while she watched her older brothers take turns hugging Brianna and then Roger and Fergus embrace briefly. 

Roger and Brianna had a tight hold of each other before glancing back one last time. Claire smiled and Jamie nodded, and with that, they’d pressed their hands to the stone and were gone. 

“Ye’ll see some of them again,” Roger murmured. “There’s no way yer younger brothers will pass on the chance for an adventure.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brianna told him. “They dinna ken the dangers of it, to say nothing of the grief they’ll visit on Mam and Da.”

“It will grieve them less do they ken there’s a safe place for them here, should they take it in their wee minds to cause such trouble,” Roger reassured her. “And I cannae wait to build that place wi’ you, Bree.” He kissed her temple and then rested his head on her chin as she melted into him and let his comfort steel her for what still lay ahead. 

“Yer father and Mrs. Graham will be thinkin’ we went back again ourselves if we keep them waitin’ any longer.” 

“After you, Mrs. Mackenzie,” Roger teased, enjoying the self-conscious flush it brought to Brianna’s cheeks.

[iguessishouldbethankful]

BOUNCING OFF THE ASK I ANSWERED rant about [pairing] FOR FALUCY? TY ILY 💕💕

SHIP ASKS:

TW: Death, depression, suicidal ideation.

Can it be a good rant? Because let me tell you something...

Out of all the female characters that Star Fox had, for some reason, I fell hard for Lucy Hare back in 2010. Why? I have no idea. All I know is that playing Star Fox Command made me adore her more than I should. And of course, seeing as Falco is my big favorite in the entire series, I wanted to ship them. But at the time I had no idea how to--I was also not as active in the RP community then so most of it were skin deep ideas and maybes.

Until I jumped in deep back in the end of 2018.

You see... I made a Lucy Hare Rp blog and I went deep into Lucy’s character and headcanons. Her history, her motives, etc. And a lot of my headcanons for Vivian Hare comes from Immy’s version of Vivian so shout outs for her. Anyway, I started to think about Lucy’s past and her relationship to the Star Fox team and it occured to me that Lucy would have been introduced to Falco when she was 16, a year before the war. And there was absolutely no romantic interest between the two. Falco was new and super awkward around everywhere and probably not exactly all that friendly at first. And Lucy? She was fucking salty. Salty like the depths of the Dead Sea. Why?

BECAUSE FALCO TOOK HER SPOT IN THE TEAM.

Peppy and Fox denied her entry to the Star Fox team because, well, Peppy didn’t want to lose his daughter, and she was too young, and Vivian needed someone to help her around. So Lucy was stuck and incredibly sour about it--the reject, so to speak. But she never said anything to Falco. Instead she just forced a smile, being daddy’s and mommy’s good little girl.

Be the good girl.

Dealing with the war, protecting her mother, dealing with her strong crush to Fox because of course she would have a crush on Fox. They were inseparable as kids, why wouldn’t she have a crush on him? Why wouldn’t she be hopeful of being his right hand pilot, or even a strategist. Go to the Academy, be a team with Slippy and Bill like they always dreamed of! She didn’t expect James to ever die and change her father’s mind, or for Fox to break his promise... For things to change.

Finishing the Academy after the war, graduating as a pilot, but decides to go to college afterwards because, well... She didn’t want anything to do with piloting. Her heart broke. So Astrophysics it was. She’s very smart, but of course being rejected stung enough that it did make her question if this was what she really wanted to do. 

It didn’t matter, do what you can. Keep an eye on mother. They survived the war, Peppy was out there with Fox still. They’ll be back soon. They’d be able to talk about stuff and she’d feel better.

Thing is, Peppy hardly returned home at all. Answered calls less and less, trying to maintain the Great Fox together was the lack of jobs was increasing. And Lucy was feeling too numb to even have a reaction--as her mother was slowly wasting away. You see, Vivian has a rare rabbit disease that usually affects the females of the family. She’d slowly lose feelings and become paralyzed. It got worse after the war. Lucy was taking care of Vivian up until they moved her to the hospital.

Soon, Vivian could only breathe because the machines manually did it for her. Lucy was too numb to care about her father. When she finally reached him, it was an emergency call. Dad, she’s gone.

You see...

The second time Lucy met Falco, was during Vivian Hare’s funeral. Lucy was emotionless, possibly perceived strong, but she had cried her eyes out before hand. Whereas everyone comforted Peppy instead. The rabbit was devastated. Falco mostly kept to himself, silent as well. There was nothing to really talk about. He... wasn’t good with grief. He wasn’t good with loss.

It scared him.

A year after this happened, Falco left the team, and Lucy graduated from college and left Corneria for an Academy job on Fichina. there was nothing but silence and cold from all corners fr a long time. And Lucy kept tabs on the team, hoping maybe one day she’d get closer to them but understood her father’s reluctance about the subject. Give it time, he was grieving too.

So Lucy became accustomed to the frigid world of Fichina. The underground city layout due to the intense weather it had. The lack of sun. The rising rates of depression and ideation, limited resources because everything needed to be imported, and her having only so many cadets interested in her subject despite it being important. They wanted to fly, not study. Slowly, her heart was very limited. Her smile plastered on to hide the fact that she was still hurt and a little angry.

And one day, she calls in to her father and finds out that Falco returned and that they also had a new member to the Star Fox team that would be taking his place. Oh? Yes. Meet Krystal.

....oh....

Someone that had no Academy training, someone that had no prior history with flying, someone that has no connections to the team until recently... Someone that she was presented to and said that adored Peppy as though he were her own father. To Lucy, it was like tearing open so many old scars, letting the wounds fester. Especially when she saw the dreamy look on Fox’s face. The smiling look on Peppy’s face.

...I see.

Be the good girl.

Smile. Be supportive. Be happy that her father would soon be retiring. That they would... have a good pilot. That they were getting back on their feet again and quickly hired on to chase Andrew’s Rebellion that was quickly rising. Smile through the coming months of constant worry ad waiting for the retirement to come--soon she’d finally have her father closer to her. Hopefully. Smile as the Aparoids attacked Fichina, putting many lives in jeopardy. Smile as Peppy never answered her calls.

Smile when Fox finally contacts her, explaining what happened after they invaded the Aparoid home world,how Peppy almost lost his life.

Enough.

Lucy broke. She shrieked. Fox never saw his childhood friend hold so much fury before. None of the team did. Not even Peppy. Not even when Lucy was rejected to be part of the team. It lead them to visit Fichina and let Lucy confront her father, convincing him to finally retire. He was left there by the team and Lucy finally had him close to her for once.

Only for a few months however. General Pepper had chosen Peppy to take his place. Good things only lasted for a little while. The Star Fox team also broke apart yet again.It was funny how bitterness could bring Lucy and Krystal together as friends. Even if it was skin deep, Lucy still appreciated the vulpine. Funny how only then, when Fox was trying to set records straight with Star Wolf, dealing with the Anglar rising did Lucy finally get a chance to spread her wings and defend her new home. Fight along side the remains of what was the Star Fox team. Again, good things only lasted for a while.

Slippy was engaged ad about to marry in a few weeks. Soon after, so was Fox and Krystal. The team was dismantling for good. Fox’s wedding was the confirmation of his decision. A peace well needed for the family, or so, Lucy hoped. Despite the fury she spat at the team about Peppy almost dying, she never got the chance to truly say what she felt. To spill all the poison she had. And it felt as though, when James died, her world just broke apart as well. She lost her own father due to an all consuming guilt that was too focused and forgetful and selfish.

Seeing Peppy walk Krystal down the aisle to Fox was a reminder of that. A punch to the gut. So much Lucy hoped for, hoping she’d be accepted or seen, she’d been ignoring her own chances to be happy. Spent a while life waiting for a father or a glance her way from a team that really didn’t do the same. Why should they? She was never meant to be part of them. The wedding just made everything around Lucy break the bits of hope she had, realizing that... she waited for nothing really. She’d go back home to a frigid rock and she’d be there, waking up to the cold sunless planet, with cadets that didn’t care much about her classes and a father that was barely there for her.

And she didn’t want to go back. Honestly she didn’t want to go on. During the wedding reception, Lucy quietly left on foot. She even smiled when no one noticed when she was gone. No one texted her on her phone. No one called her. 30 minutes, a walk from the celebration hall to a long lonely bridge. Shoes off, climbing up the railing. Take in the rushing river, the moon, the wind that made her aqua dress move like waves. No one would notice, really.

Desperation was funny like that. A moment of weakness.

‘I don’t get how you’re not cold. The metal’s freezing to me.’

Falco leans up against the railing next to her, surprising her. Soon, both of them were watching the moonlight as she talked to her. Possibly the first real conversation they truly had. Lucy was stunned to notice that he had noticed her leave quietly. How?

‘You had that look on your face. The kind your dad had when your mom passed away. Just no crying.’

Lucy asked how did he know. How could he know what was going through her mind? To him, it was easy only because... he was feeling it too. When Lucy had chances to become something else, Falco really had none of that. No family to return to, no real drive to find another purpose. Flying is all he’s good at and the Star Fox team was all he really had. It was home. A family. That was now gone. It also didn’t help that he also had a thing for Fox. He lost that too because he was a fool. He left when he shouldn’t have.

This sort of confession was something Lucy needed to hear. To pull her out of herself and not focus so much on what she lost. It was enough to make her regret what went through her mind when she climbed the railing of the bridge. And Falco helped her down.

‘I don’t want to go back there.’

‘That’s fine, I don’t want to either. I ain’t about formal stuff.’And he was glad Lucy laughed at that. ‘How ‘bout we cross the rest of the bridge and go downtown? Downtown Corneria doesn’t sleep and we’re dressed up anyway.’

Lucy accepts, brushing the tears away from her smudged make up and taking his offered hand. Shoes back on, wristlet in hand, they crossed the bridge, leaving behind an episode in their lives and starting a new one.

Who knows.

Might lead to something so much better.

[radicalensce]

SIMS 4: GENERATIONS

CHAPTER 1: HISTORY

Before diving into the main story, let me introduce the members of the Anand Family.

Ramona was raised by a single father who is also a spellcaster. Not knowing who her mother was, Ramona channeled most of her abandonment issues into her writings, art, and supporting Abel Lockett’s passion for gardening and practicing magic. Ramona and Abel moved to Glimmerbrook so Abel can focus on his magic among his peers, and Ramona, having the same bloodline, to hone her powers as well.

Ramona was a very cheerful teenager, she absorbed all types of positive energy radiating from the town. She was playful, and friends with a lot of people. Abel trained her during her teenage years. For someone so young, Ramona grew her powers quite fast.

What Ramona did not know is that as her powers grow stronger, her father’s grew weaker. Abel was not getting any younger, so during his last few moments with her, he decided to spend it with joy, laughter, gardening and more magical practice before resting from old age. Ramona grieved her remaining years in Glimmerbrook after her father passed.

After years of studying and training her magical prowess in the realm, Ramona decided to leave Glimmerbrook and pursue a life outside magic and spellcasting, away from the mystical and into the ordinary. Being the stellar student that she is even academically, she got a distinguished degree in Communications in the University of Britechester where she met Veer, taking the same degree. They started off as roommates and the closest of bros. Around her second year in college, Ramona was still exploring her life outside Glimmerbrook, taking the time to absorb the energy and everything around her. She did not have time to develop any romantic pursuances, but she kept her friends very close to her heart.  Veer’s eyes were always on her despite their differences. Little did he know what the universe have in store for them.

Upon finishing college, Ramona moved to 19 Culpepper in San Myshuno to pursue a career in journalism while Veer remained close in her life. Their friendship grew closer as they entered the corporate world until one drunken night after another, they decided that the spark between them was not just friendship, but something else: a bromance, one would say. Giving their romantic spark a try, it turned into a beautiful flame that both warmed and soothed hearts: a beautiful baby girl, Bethany. After the birth of Bethany, they decided to move into a penthouse since they both can afford it when Ramona climbed the career ladder as an editor-in-chief, and Veer a code monkey.

While both of Veer and Ramona’s careers flourished and Bethany grew up into a bubbly toddler, the penthouse was starting to get a little too crowded when Ramona started to feel some weight growing in her: the barfing came back, every food made her nauseous and dizzy, and her mood fluctuated! Then there he was, baby Grahm was born.

Living in a penthouse did not sound viable for a family with two children running around. Ramona and Veer pictured a garden, a basketball hoop where Veer and Grahm can shoot some balls, a backyard lit with candles and outdoor lights for the perfect evening barbecue, a porch that warmly welcomed every visitor, grass where dried, autumn leaves pile and the kids can slam to, the smell of cedar wood burning in the fireplace and piping hot chocolate with toasted marshmallows during Winterfest. The Anand Family decided to move to the suburbs.

Life became easy and breezy for the Anand Family in Willow Creek. Watching the kids grow up, Ramona started to notice that Bethany is not as creatively inclined as she was. Instead, she was handy and street smart! Her brain worked more as a mix of Ramona’s gut and Veer’s logical ways, and so did Grahm! Bethany matured too early, so Grahm was more of the family’s baby boy. Watching them grow up was a little sad for both Veer and Ramona. It was all going too fast. There had to be a way to slow things down.

Veer decided to embrace the typical suburban family image by adopting an Australian Shepherd, Ralphie. Ralphie is a smart, active, and sleuth dog. He liked to explore the world around him and learned tricks faster than any dog. He hates the dishwasher, fridge, and stove but loves jumping on counters and sleeping in the bathroom. The family treated him like a baby, and just like every baby, grew up a little too fast. Now he’s a big boy who likes napping and cuddles on the couch. Bethany became a little more close with Ralphie, and surprisingly absorbed more of his sleuth personality. They would usually jog together, or simply post about 15 Simstagram stories of Ralphie almost everyday.

As time went by, Ramona noticed the distance she created between her and magic. Veer knew very little about her magical past, and the kids barely know anything at all. She completely cut off most of her magical ties with Glimmerbook and started fresh. She couldn’t help but wonder how life would have been if she stayed in her quaint little town and worked more on her magic. She missed her dad. She missed the realm. Her present life was beautiful, almost perfect, but ordinary. She would sometimes visit her old house which was completely abandoned, whip out some old tricks to see if it’s still there... Apparently it’s true when people say life flashes before you when there’s only a few time left.

And time did go a little too fast. Bethany is about to go to university while Grahm is about to go to high school. Given the generational victories from their children, Ramona decided to retire and purchase a small lot in Magnolia Promenade and turned it into a bakery to keep the funds going. She discovered baking late in her life, and happened to be an amazing business.

Life was beautiful. But life... has a bunch of what ifs, right? “It was amazing, dad. No regrets. This is alright.” she whispered.

NOTE: This is a brief history of the Anands to provide context of Bethany’s upbringing so we can jump to her story. On to the next soon! I hope you liked it.

[kimabutch]

JLCR: kimabutch edition

To celebrate somehow reaching 1000 songs on Jam Like Critical Role, the giant fan-created playlist that I’ve been curating since February, I’ve decided to put together a mini-playlist of own, featuring two of my favourite songs for each member of Vox Machina and The Mighty Nein! Each song has a YouTube link, but you can find the whole mini-playlist on Spotify here.

By mini-playlist I meant that there are “only” 36 songs, and also that I’ve pulled out my favourite lines and explained why I associate the song with them, so that this whole thing is approximately 5400 words long. I tried to restrain myself, but, well, Jam Like Critical Role is a testament to my lack of self-restraint. If it helps, I’ve tried to incorporate a diversity of artists, eras, and genres, from folk-punk to techno, country, dream-pop, classical, and beyond. I hope you find something you enjoy.

Grog

We’re Going To Be Friends, Jack Johnson (cover of White Stripes), for Grog and Pike’s incredibly wholesome childhood friendship. While many of the lyrics describe friends at school, which is not totally accurate for them, I can just imagine the two weirdos playing among the bugs:

“Walk with me, Suzy Lee/ Through the park and by the tree/ We can rest upon the ground/ And look at all the bugs we’ve found”

Not to mention Pike teaching Grog his ABCs:

“Tonight I’ll dream while in my bed/ While silly thoughts run through my head/ Of the bugs and alphabet”

I just love these two silly monstahs.

Giant, Juno Reactor: to balance out that last song, have some techno that makes me want to yell “Vox Machina, Fuck. Shit. UP!” and split Kevdak in half with a nat 20 from the sky. Appropriately named for our goliath friend, this song always temporarily convinces me that I, too, am a seven foot tall barbarian (which is not recommended while you are trying to do anything that requires brainpower.)

Keyleth

I Lost Myself, Lauren Mann and The Fairly Odd Folk, for Keyleth’s self-doubt about whether she can do her Aramente (or whether she even wants to) and fear that she’s hurting everyone:

“I’ve got voices in my head Making me think that this is where I end Hey, what do you see, if anything What do you see in me”

This specifically reminds me of her Aramente, and how it taught her so much more than she was expecting:

“You and me we made a plan To travel from here to there and back again Somewhere on that weathered road I found the dreams that I’d been looking for”

And “Hey, we’ve got the world to see/ So let’s forget our anxieties and get on our way” makes me think of Keyleth and Percy’s friendship, and how both of their stories are about trying to figure out what to do once you’ve achieved your goals. I want to think that after the story ended, they were still occasionally able to leave behind their responsibilities and travel the world together.

Take Us Back, Alela Diane, for a post-canon Keyleth, reminiscing on the old days and eventually outliving the rest of Vox Machina. I get a strong image of Kiki coming down from Zephra to see her friends:

“Atop the crags and cliffs the air is thin/ So we’ll find a mountain path on down the hill/ Meet me where the snowmelt flows/ It is there, my dear, where we’ll begin again”

And of her listening to Scanlan’s music, centuries later; they’d be the last two alive: “I’ve a friend who lives out by the river’s mouth/ He knows the fiddle’s cry is an old sound”

And then Keyleth, alone, listening to a river’s gurgle or the wind’s howling, and almost thinking she hears her friends: “Muted voices, just beyond/ The silent surface of what has gone.”

Percival

The Devil Spoke Here, Chicken Little, which I think is actually about the aftermath of a protest, but which I feel works eerily well for Percy’s development following the Briarwood arc. The beginning reminds me of his guilt, feelings of brokenness, and anger issues after he’s cast out Orthax — right down to his guilt about guns:

“There’s bullets in the streets/ and broken dishes on the floor/   enough anger in my heart/   to take the blame for it all/   I could take every bullet back/   if I could never feel like that”

It also covers Percy’s realization, after his conversation with the Raven Queen, that he’s free from the judgment of the gods, and acceptance that he’s the one who has bad thoughts for the greater good:

“I have no god for guidance/ still I’m praying all the same/ may everything I do/ be done for everybody’s gain”

And then this, for a reason that I can’t quite explain, feels so much like Percy’s forgiveness of Ripley at Glintshore, and his death at her hand:

“May we always fail/ with the best of intentions/   with our hearts always pure/   and our souls only human”

Wandering Star, Portishead: the weird trip hop vibe to this song somehow feels appropriate to Percy, and in particular to his darkest thoughts. The song addresses the possible punishments for these thoughts: “Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved/ The blackness, the darkness, forever.” It helps that this is an allusion to a Bible passage about atheists.

The second verse makes me think both of Percy’s relationship to the concept of eternity (because of the “needle’s eye” — a parable about the entrance of heaven for the rich) and his raven mask:

“Those who have seen the needle’s eye, now tread Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled And the masks that the monsters wear To feed, upon their prey”

Additionally, “Doubled up inside/ Take a while to shed my grief” is reminiscent of Percy’s revelation, in the last episode, that he just really fucking misses his family. This whole time, something inside of him has been curled up into a little ball like the teenager he was five years ago, grieving his family.

Pike

Holy, Jamily Woods: a song about self-love and self-assurance, underscored by Christian imagery:

“Though I walk through the darkest valley I will fear no love/ Oh my smile my mind reassure me I don’t need no one […] Woke up this morning with my mind set on loving me”

Many of the lyrics can be interpreted either as the singer being self-sufficient because her god is there — or being sufficient even beyond her god: “I’m not lonely, I’m alone/ And I’m holy by my own.”

I think both interpretations work for Pike: that she has found (or is attempting to find) peace when she’s not with her friends, or that although she worships Sarenrae, the Everlight doesn’t necessarily interfere in her day-to-day life and she makes her own happiness. Either way, the song makes me feel at peace in the same way that Pike does.

The Otherside, Ohbijou, for Pike’s feelings about Scanlan during the year gap. Particularly, I’m reminded of Pike’s attempts to talk to Scanlan on the earring: “With things left unsaid so unsatisfied/ And a burning to hear your voice just one more time.”

And in these lyrics:

“And it’s so silly for me to worry/ About situations that don’t exist/ We create these problems and try to solve them/ Why waste each passing moment?”

I hear Pike trying to figure out her feelings for Scanlan, but shooting herself down because he’s gone, why even try?

Scanlan

The Pilgrim - Chapter 33, Willie Nelson (cover of Kris Kristofferson), which really encapsulates, for me, Scanlan’s complex relationship with religion: the fact that a guy who regularly produces lightning from his dick, messes with people’s memories, and actively attempts to cultivate a drug habit finds himself praying to the Everlight at night and eventually becomes Ioun’s chosen:

“He’s a poet, he’s a picker/ He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher/ He’s a pilgrim and a preacher/ And a problem when he’s stoned”

The lines “He’s a walking contradiction/ Partly truth and partly fiction” reminds me of all the identities he’s taken on, both for fun and to shield his emotions from his friends, whereas “Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home” makes me think of Scanlan’s long road back to Vox Machina after leaving them.

Handle With Care, Traveling Wilburys: almost every single song on this album works for Scanlan, so choosing just one was a real challenge. But this song is so good for all the shit that Scanlan’s been through (and all the shit that he’s been), and his relationship with Pike through all of that:

“Been beat up and battered around/ Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down/ You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found/ Handle me with care […]”

“Everybody’s got somebody to lean on” reminds me of Scanlan’s feeling, in episode 85, that he’s the odd one out in Vox Machina.

The last verse encapsulates Scanlan acknowledging his own fuck ups, working to make them right, and eventually, having a healthy relationship with Pike:

“I’ve been uptight and made a mess/ But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess/ Oh, the sweet smell of success”

Taryon

Father and Son, Cat Stevens, for Tary’s relationship with his father and his decision to leave home; the song is a duet of sorts. I think the father’s part of the song is a little generous for Howaardt Darrington, but retains the message of (somewhat condescendingly) trying to keep his son at home and have him reconsider his far-reaching plans: “I know that it’s not easy to be calm/ When you’ve found something going on.”

The son’s part, though, captures Tary’s frustration with his father’s strictness and inability to actually understand his passions:

“How can I try to explain?/ ‘Cause when I do he turns away again/ It’s always been the same, same old story/ From the moment I could talk/ I was ordered to listen/ Now there’s a way and I know/ That I have to go away”

And the last verse is some real closeted gay feelings that always make me tear up:

“All the times that I cried/ Keeping all the things I knew inside/ It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it”

What’s It Gonna Be, Shura, not so much for the song’s lyrics, but for its music video, which is all about falling for a different gender than you expected, and which is incredibly sweet and beautiful.

That being said, you could definitely take the lyrics to be about his crush on Percy and his obliviousness about who in Vox Machina is sleeping with whom:

“Do I tell you I love you or not?/ 'Cause I can’t really guess what you want/ If you let me down, let me down slow”

Vax’ildan

Glorious, Muse, for Vax’s early relationship with faith. He can’t help but feel drawn towards Sarenrae’s light, even as he has doubts and perhaps even anger towards the gods:

Faith: It drives me away/ But it turns me on/ Like a stranger’s love It rockets through the universe It fuels the lies and feeds the curse And we, too, could be glorious”

He wants that glory that he sees in Pike, but he doesn’t know how to approach it or reconcile it with his life experiences. And then he finds his whole world shattered as he’s chosen by the Raven Queen, and he once again has to find faith, though in a way that he never expected:

“I need to believe But I still want more With the cuts and the bruises”

Fields of Gold, Sting: a song from Vax to Keyleth. I can imagine them so perfectly in this scene, perhaps during their year of downtime, with the winds of Zephra blowing through the fields and their hope beyond hope that they’ll be able to stay together:

“Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?/ Upon the fields of barley/ We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky/ As we lie in fields of gold”

“See the west wind move like a lover so/ Upon the fields of barley/ Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth/ Among the fields of gold”

Years later, Vax knows that Keyleth will see those fields again and think of him: “You’ll remember me when the west wind moves/ Upon the fields of barley.”

Vex’ahlia

Half Jack, The Dresden Dolls: a truly haunting song about the pain and unavoidability of being her father’s daughter — she’s always half Jill (her mother) and half Jack (her father.) The whole song is incredibly painful for Vex, and the lines:

“It might destroy me But I’d sacrifice my body If it meant I’d get the Jack part out”

always makes me think of “If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would.” Also,

“But if you listen/ You’ll learn to hear the difference/ Between the halfs and the half nots”

reminds me of her asking Percy if she looks like she comes from money — or a younger Vex, in Syngorn, gradually realizing why everyone looked down on her and Vax. Lastly, isn’t “I see my mother in my face/ But only when I travel” absolutely heartbreaking for her?

Fall Down or Fly, Lindi Ortega, only partly because Lindi Ortega strongly resembles my headcanon for Vex. The other part is because of my abiding love for how Vex learned to fly, and how that worked with her character arc: from the first time, in the Briarwoods arc, that she discovered her love for flying, to her flaunting convention and stealing the broom, to Percy modifying it for her, to her friends cheering her on with chicken target practice, and finally to her soaring through the skies with confidence. And the song captures that so well for me, as well as her decision to keep going even when her father, Saundor’s words, and her own self-doubt bring her down:

“This is your life/ You can fall down or fly/ You can burn out a shot if you want/ This is your life/ You can live it or die/ You can quit now or try if you want/ But don’t you give up, don’t you give up”

This also reminds me of how much all of Vox Machina adores and supports Vex (and I will join them in crying about how awesome she is):

“You said what is there to lose?/ Do it if you choose/ I got faith in you/ Everything you do/ I know you are gonna make it to the top”

(I also maintain that a modern Vex would be really into country music, particularly the genre of country song in which women tell people to fuck off.)

Vox Machina

Call Them Brothers, Regina Spektor feat. Only Son, for Scanlan’s departure from Vox Machina and the whole team’s attempts to deal with it. I first heard this song in an absolutely heartbreaking TAZ animatic, and my pain increased exponentially when I realized how much it also worked for Critical Role. It’s perfect, in my opinion, for the sense that their family, which has seen them through so much, is irreparably broken — “That’s it, it’s split, it won’t recover/ Just frame the halves and call them brothers.”

But then you also get “Over and over, they call us their friends/ Can’t we find something else to pretend?” for Scanlan’s insistence that Vox Machina doesn’t really care about him, and “Find your fathers and your mothers/ If you remember who they are” for “what’s my mother’s name?”

Maybe this should go on Scanlan’s playlist, but I think “The hunt is on, everyone’s chasing a shot” also works for the way that the rest of Vox Machina independently searched for Scanlan during their year of downtime… and the feelings of defeat in the song just feel appropriate to the whole group.

(I actually have a playlist full of songs for episode 85, because I enjoy making myself sad; it took a lot of effort not to put them all here.)

Freaks, The Hawk in Paris: I can never decide whether this is a Mighty Nein or Vox Machina song, but I’m putting it here mostly because “If you come along with us, the doors are never ending” is absolutely hilarious in for Vox Machina’s single greatest enemy.

That, and there are a lot of lines that work for individual members of the group: “We have a flair for the shade and the inbetween” (Vax); “We like to run with the wolves from the darker scene” (Keyleth); “When we turn the safety off, the shots are automatic” (Percy); “All our friends tell their friends we’re so dramatic” (Scanlan); and “We’ll make you swoon, make it hurt just a little” (Vex).

Additionally, “We have a plan, we’ve got the means for your liberation/ You’ll only have to blur the lines on a few occasions” makes me think of the Briarwood arc, and I makes me think of Percy dramatically revealing his identity to the priest — and cut to Grog pulling out a guy’s tongue.

Anyways, if I learn to make AMVs by the time that the animated series is released, this will be the first that I’ll make.

Beauregard

Saint Simon, The Shins, for Beau’s escape from the Cobalt Soul. The song expresses frustration at weighty intellectualism and how much it doesn’t teach you — which i think is something Beau felt strongly with her monk teachers:

“After all these implements and texts designed by intellects/ So vexed to find, evidently there’s still so much that hides […] Since I don’t have time nor mind to figure out the nursery rhymes/ That helped us out in making sense of our lives”

So she tries not to care about anything because it’s safer that way (“The cruel, uneventful state of apathy releases me”), and she runs away:

“I’ll try hard not to give in, batten down to fare the wind/ Rid my head of this pretence, allow myself no mock defence/ Step into the night”

I think the last part of the song could also work for her meeting the Mighty Nein and starts understanding friendship and love: “Mercy’s eyes are blue when she places them in front of you/ Nothing really holds a candle to the solemn warmth you feel inside you.”

Jonas and Ezekiel, Indigo Girls, because what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t put at least one gay-written song on Beau’s playlist? This one is about road trips, wandering, and looking for a purpose:

“I left my anger in a river running Highway 5 New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by College farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks Voices in the woods and the mountaintops”

But also contains one verse that I think fits her strict family, her new family in the Mighty Nein, and the “devils” — or tieflings — of which her family would certainly not approve:

“Now when I was young my people taught me well/ Give back what you take or you’ll go to hell/ It’s not the devil’s land, you know it’s not that kind/ Every devil I meet becomes a friend of mine/ Every devil I meet is an angel in disguise”

And something about this reminds me of her journey into Xhorhas and attempts to uncover conspiracies and work out the truth: “In the war over land where the world began/ Prophecies say it’s where the world will end.”

Caduceus

Born at the Right Time, Paul Simon, for Caduceus’s belief in destiny and his place therein. The chorus describes his occasional naïveté, and the happiness of his life in the Blooming Grove, with his family:

“Never been lonely Never been lied to Never had to scuffle in fear Nothing denied to”

And then gets into his conviction that his goddess and the world itself put him where he is:

“Born at the instant/ The church bells chime/ And the whole world whispering/ Born at the right time”

The very chill vibe of the song is also very Clay, to me.

Happy All the Time, Danny Schmidt: the singer himself has said that he doesn’t know whether or not this song is ironic and/or melancholic, so I’m going to go with a sincere and cheerful interpretation for Caduceus, with maybe a hint of nostalgia for more peaceful days among his family. It’s got some incredibly lush and occasionally strange nature imagery that I think is perfect for him:

“I took the time to breathe cause I was happy all the time/ Among the rootbuds and the weeds cause I was happy all the time/ But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet/ Until my toes took root and I was happy, I was happy all the time”

I think Caduceus is still happy, but he was definitely at peace as a hermit.

Caleb

I Miss That Feeling, Tennis: a song about panic attacks and how the physical effects, when described, almost seem like falling in love. It works not only for Caleb’s panic attacks, but also, relatedly, his relationship with fire, which scares him, even as he likes the way it feels — “Something like pleasure, you’d never believe it.”

The fiery way that the singer describes panic attacks is also very Caleb:

“I miss that feeling/ Flicker hot and hovering/ Like my own discovering/ Eagerly, tenderly/ I miss that feeling/ Flicker spread into an itch/ Into a burn, into a twitch/ Slow and even”

It brings me back to the first time we saw it, in the gnoll mines. Also, “Every little thing starts trembling/ Recorded by the needle of an EKG” feels very reminiscent of his hospitalization, though from a modern perspective.

Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers, for Caleb’s very tentative trust in the Mighty Nein, and in particular his friendship with Beau. I think this song really encapsulates Caleb’s pain and skittishness, especially near the beginning of their campaign, as well as his desperation (unknown even to himself) to love again:

“Well, prove to me I’m not gonna die alone/ Unstitch that shit I’ve sewn/ To close up the hole that tore through my skin/ Well my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg/ Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in”

And this feels like something that Beau would say to Caleb — upfront and caring all at the same time, reminding him that his actions affect everyone else and asking him not to run:

“You said, ‘I can’t prove to you you’re not gonna die alone/ But trust me to take you home/ To clean up that blood all over your paws/ You can’t keep running out […] Kicking yourself in the head/ Because you’re kicking me too.’”

By the end of the song, Caleb is starting to believe her, and even asking her to trust him: “Put your trust in me/ I’m not gonna die alone… I don’t think so…”

Fjord

Release the Kraken, The Daysleepers: I added this to Fjord’s playlist back when everyone was speculating that his patron was something kraken-like, and even now that this is clearly not the case, I think it still works for Uk’otoa (Uk’otoa) and his attempts at freedom: “It pulled the ships down/ It’s rising from the deep below.”

But also for Fjord’s relationship with Avantika — for his attempts to get close to her in order to save himself and his friends:  

“Turn the lights down Careful as a serpent’s tongue Move without a sound Gentle as the cold wind moans”

I think “When you sold love/ Your heart becomes a monster” is some of what Fjord felt after those encounters: like he gave part of himself away.

21st Century Child, Daggy Man, for Fjord’s self-hatred and the masks he puts on. Many of the lyrics could fit several characters (particularly Beau, Caleb, and Scanlan), but

“I hate the sound of myself/ When I’m being honest/ Sounds like somebody else/ And I don’t wanna listen/ To the whinings of a 21st century child”

just perfectly captures his feelings about his voice and his past self — weak and whiny, and not who he wants to be. And then we get these lines, which feel like a good summary of his issues with identity and deception:

“And I’ve struggled with how/ Others perceive me/ And I can’t tell if I’m better/ Or just better at deceiving And I’ll keep going until I’m called out”

Jester

The Sweetest Sounds, Ella Fitzgerald (cover of Richard Rodgers), for pre-stream Jester barely waiting for her exciting life to begin. I first heard this song in Rodger & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and while there is something fairy-tale-like about Jester, I think this upbeat, jazzy cover fits her well:

“The most entrancing sight of all Is yet for me to see And the dearest love in all the world Is waiting somewhere for me”

I can just imagine a 10-year-old Jester listening to the band at the Lavish Chateau play this song, dressing up in Marion’s clothes, and pretending she’s in a storybook romance.

One Hand in my Pocket, Alanis Morissette, which really captures her beautiful complexity:

“I’m free, but I’m focused/ I’m green, but I’m wise/ I’m hard, but I’m friendly/ I’m sad, but I’m laughing”

because Jester is so many things all at once, and none of them negate each other. It’s so hopeful (“What it all comes down to/ Is that everything’s gonna be quite alright”) and comforting (“What it all boils down to/ Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet”) in a way that really reminds me of my favourite blue cleric.

The whole song has such a fun, free, summer vibe that always makes me smile — just like Jester.

Mollymauk

Carnival Overture, Antonín Dvořák (Leonard Bernstein & New York Philharmonic Orchestra): one of my favourite pieces of classical music ever — when I hear it, an entire music video about a carnival plays in my head. The exuberant theme that bowls you over from the start reminds me of Molly’s effervescent, ostentatious personality.

The slower and quieter part in the middle with the violin and woodwind solos gives me a picture of Molly and Yasha sitting alone in the evenings just outside the carnival encampment, cuddled together — Yasha talking about her wife, Molly telling jokes, and the both of them making up names for constellations and flowers. Then the quick-paced minor section makes me think of the bloodhunter tiefling in combat, deadly with his swords and vicious mockery — before the return to the joyful, triumphant original theme.

Wonderful Everyday, Chance the Rapper & The Social Experiment**: this is sort of a cover of the Arthur theme song, but in the absolute best way possible. The meandering, loose, and extraordinarily happy vocals always remind me of Molly’s way of living.

Although some of the lyrics are more optimistic than Molly (I think he’d laugh at “Everybody that you meet/ Has an original point of view” and say that their points of view are usually bullshit), the message of appreciating every single day is just wonderful for him.

And the last bit hits me like a ton of bricks:

“And when I go down/ I'ma go down swinging/ My eyes still smiling/ And my heart still singing”

“Eyes never shut,” indeed.

**not on Spotify, sorry!

Nott

The Sore Feet Song, Ally Kerr: at first it appears to be a simple song about traveling long distances to find your love, which certainly describes Nott’s search for Yeza: “I walked ten thousand miles, ten thousand miles to see you/ And every gasp of breath I grabbed at just to find you.”

But the second verse is where it really gets into Nott’s thieving, rat-eating, badass ways:

“I stole ten thousand pounds, ten thousand pounds to see you I robbed convenient stores cause I thought they’d make it easier I lived off rats and toads, and I starved for you I fought off giants bears and I killed them too”

I love this strange little goblin.

Fox in the Snow, Belle & Sebastian: this song has always been a bit of a mystery to me, but the lyrics remind me of Nott’s intense vulnerability after she was transformed into a goblin — and in particular her self-image as something animalistic:

“Fox in the snow, where do you go/ To find something you could eat?/ Because the word out on the street is you are starving/ Don’t let yourself grow hungry now/ Don’t let yourself grow cold”

The second verse, which switches to describing a human girl, reminds me of pre-transformation Veth, more acceptable in body but no less socially ostracized than Nott:

“Girl in the snow, where do you go/ To find someone that will do?/ To tell someone all the truth before it kills you/ Listen to your crazy laugh/ Before you hang a right/ And disappear from sight/ What do they know anyway?”

I can just see that exact scene play out with a young Veth, right down to the “crazy laugh.” I’m glad she found Yeza, but she must still have been pretty lonely without any other friends.

Yasha

Into the Barrens, Grizfolk, for Yasha’s years of blank wandering after Zuala’s death. This song fits Yasha so well that for months, I somehow tricked myself into believing that Ashley had put it on her playlist. But I feel like this encapsulates her hopeless feelings, away from all society, not living for anything or anyone:

“Cast me away, my shadow’s cold/ Into the barrens where I will grow old/ Well, I’m not looking for answers/ And I’m not looking for gold”

And I can see this verse for the beginning of her relationship with the Stormlord, following voices she can’t understand as she wanders, barely alive:

“The voices in my head/ They echo in the wind and I begin to sway/ I follow what they say/ I can’t see their eyes, but I hear howling through the haze”

Dreams, Fleetwood Mac: technically a break-up song, but I can’t help but think of Yasha’s ever-present guilt and her memories of Zuala when I hear:

“Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness/ Like a heartbeat drives you mad/ In the stillness of remembering what you had/ And what you lost”

The storm imagery also works for Yasha — “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know” makes me think of her fight with the Stormlord on the boat, which allowed her to open up to her friends. And it touches on Yasha’s opaque dreams (“Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions/ I keep my visions to myself”).

(Ally and Stevie also have a lesbian mash-up of Dreams and Rhiannon, two of the gayest Fleetwood Mac songs, that I associate strongly with Beauyasha.)

Mighty Nein

Old Black Train, The Blasting Company (from Over the Garden Wall): trains don’t exist in Exandria (yet! — Percy or Taryon should get on that) but this is more of a metaphor for life. It reminds me of the Mighty Nein setting out from Alfield, not knowing the twists and turns they were going to face, the places they’d go, nor the family they’d become:

“This journey is a long one/ It will take you all around/ Life rushing by your window/ Before it lays you down”

Then there’s this verse:

“Oh come on now young stranger/ Weren’t you someone’s son? How’d you find this depot 'Cause it ain’t where you belong”

which feels very appropriate for many members of the Mighty Nein, separated as they are from their families and wandering in lands that aren’t welcoming to them. There’s also a verse that’s reminiscent of the graveyard they passed on the way to Zadash, which more and more feels like a portent of things to come:

“You will pass a graveyard/ Stones worn by the years/ The train’ll stop a minute but don’t let it leave you here”

Sailing, Leisure Cruise: another song about transportation, although this one is a little less metaphorical. As you can probably guess, I associate it with their adventures on the Mystake and the Ball Eater, which begun by total accident but which, in my opinion, was a turning point for the group, and ultimately helped them grow closer together:

“And to our surprise we’re sailing The high seas in the middle of the ocean […] We’re sailing the wildest mystery And to our surprise we’re happy and free”

Okay, so maybe “happy and free” is a bit of an exaggeration for that arc (particularly for poor Nott) but I think there were a lot of moments in which the Mighty Nein learned unexpected lessons about themselves.

And I think this is a good summary of the Mighty Nein’s modus operandi: seize every passing opportunity, because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring:

“Maybe it’s today Maybe it’s tomorrow But we have to make a play Or the chance will fade away”

And that’s a wrap! Thanks for listening and reading. Love you all <3

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

My MtF~H.R.T. Journey -- As Gender Nonconforming, People Still Love Me

Finding Acceptance Where I Though None Existed

     COMING OUT...IT ALWAYS OCCUR OVER AND OVER

     Back in 2018, I initially came out as gender-nonconforming as I did not want to fully convert as I was terrified of my family and being outcast by my friends. My transgender identity keep changing as I found myself adapting and becoming Mira. I was turning from gender-nonconforming and turning into gender-fluid.

     Even now, I am gender-fluid as I prefer to remain between genders. Male when it serves me and female when it comforts me. Since the start of 2019, both of my genders have been active with a case of a-gender to protect my feelings. Unknown to me, I have lived my life as a-gender as I have no set of pronouns and typically refer to myself as ‘they’ or ‘we’. However, since March of 2019...I have converted once more into a trans-woman as I am now on the path to turn my appearance and identity, female.

     To this day, I still call myself gender-nonconforming and gender-fluid as I know I will always have a male and female side, however, my trans-woman side will take dominance.

     MY NEW FAMILY IS LETTING MIRA BLOOM

     Ever since I have came out to the Messinger’s, I have witnessed Mira bloom. Even though I am the same person, I ‘feel’ different now. I feel allowed to act out my emotions, show love and seek family. My whole Transgender nature depended on the Messinger’s accepting me as Mira and since they did, that is why I am writing this.

     I was visiting the Messinger’s as I was dropping off some of my stuff from my old home as Michelle was sharing her day. “I had to take Ryan to the doctor today, we thought he might have a nasal polyps, and as a mom, I was concern for him.” I released a concerned groan as I listened from the stairs, which I was sitting upon. “Luckily it wan’t that, his nose has a deviated septum. Anyhow, I told him about you moving in with us and joining our family, he thinks that is a good idea. Then I told him about your other issue and he was excited. He said that he wants to help you!”

     “Oh?” I ask as I know that I will need all the help.

     “He said, if anyone messes with you, he will protect you. He can’t wait to do your makeup and do your hair...I told him that you need to ask him.” Michelle says as I thought about having makeup and having my hair done...looking feminine.

     REACHING OUT TO ONE WHO ONCE HATED THE GAYS

     Barb:  Your dad and I would love to get together with you. We could meet at a restaurant, your grandmother's house...wherever. Whenever, just let us know what works for you. Scratch Crisco's and AJ's ears for me.

Mira:  I certainly have been needing to have a revisit, and look forward to setting up a time.      Might have to be awhile, I am in the process of moving and transitioning to a new family who has asked to take me in (countless times). They are wonderful people, very loving and have been there for me when my family would not (besides you and Dad, who have came more times then my mother, which really means much to me). I believe their willingness to adopt me as a member of the family is due to the fact that Mitch lost both of his daughters to CF and for two years prior, one of his daughters named Amanda, was the one who keep pushing me to be tested for CF. If it wasn’t for her diligence, I probably would not be here today. So I feel indebted to the family, and I believe it is a way he can properly grieve and hope to save me from the mistakes he made with his own girls. Ironically, I am much healthier with them as they keep me true to my regiment and help with clearing my airways.      They are also willing to let me live my life without hiding an embarrassing secret, which I am certain will nevertheless have me excommunicated from the family. I am not certain how you both will take the news, and if you wish to distance yourselves, I would not be offended and honor your wishes. Only four people know this, and you’ve both been quite like family to me, so I will share it with you, so you can decide if you still want to visit:      Since I was seven years old, I’ve struggled with identity. I have come to a conclusion that my gender dysphoria was caused from being raised in a female-styled family with no male influence, many links to me being female started when I was nine, steroids I was taking for my asthma starting my development on the incorrect path. Teen years were not easy, my actions certainly were not masculine as I avoided sports and sang soprano in my choirs until I was 18 years old, then lowered to alto. With my failing health, and depression from hiding this from my family, and hearing their opinions about transgender individuals with borderline on the violent side, I lived a double-life. About five years ago, when I could not work, my health was crashing, grandfather passed away and my relationship with Ruth failed, I accepted my nature and began converting my identity. I am enrolled in hormone replacement therapy and have plans to change my name and identity once I am fully adopted into the new family.      I don’t press my views on other people (as that personally annoys me); and so I will not be ashamed or upset if you still wish to refer to me as David. However, my identity will be shifted to Mira Carlene Messinger probably by the summer.      It has taken me much will to write this, and again, I understand this is much to accept...it took me a year just to accept it myself. So I expect, and understand that many old relationships will be destroyed by this.      Please let me know your thoughts.      I will certainly pass on your love to Cisco and AJ...they love the attention!

Steve: Your my son and I love you, that will never change! Barb's cares about you. Search your heart; seek Jesus . Remember, your my son. I will not turn my back on you!! We love you. Dad.

Barb: David your dad and I love you, We love you as David and will love you as Mira. We still want to be part of your life and we still want to see you.

 Mira: That is so comforting to hear! I can’t express how happy it makes me, that both of you are so willing to except me for who I am!  I still like to meet-up, catch-up on how you’ve been doing. Hopefully sometime in May would be great! With all my love!

     I was shocked to see that Barb and my biological father were so accepting of my transgender nature. When I sent the message, I watched the message gain a thumbs-down, then a angry face and finally a thumbs-up. This was probably because the revelation was shocking for Barb and Steve that she did not know how to respond. (amended 9-26-2019 — misleading information in article has been corrected after learning family past)

     REKINDLING A LOST LOVE

     Back in 2016, Ruth (Bisexual) and I got into a fight while traveling the Oregon Coastline. We had dated for over eight years and after that August disruption, we called it an end. It wasn’t until 2018 when I reached out to Ruth to talk about my transgender revelation; but did not tell her I was taking hormones and wishing to become female. Today, I sent a message to her to see what she thought.

     I have started coming out to a selected few as I don’t want these people to feel bad when I come out officially in May. It is easier to privately speak to these people...preparing them for my transformation:

Mira:  Thank you so much for reaching out...it means a great deal to me! I just want to drop a few lines to bring you up to date about what is going on. Much is about to change in my life and a few are on board to see me through, and I want to inform you too before I decide to go public about my choices.      So, after long deliberation, I have decided to move from my grandparents place and to Mason county. This move is due to the nature of my health, knowing they will not be there for me, and placing myself in the hands of someone who has experience with treating end-stage cystic fibrosis. They have asked for me to come live with them, and willing to adopt me into their family permanently. For about a year I said no, but have decided that living there is best for my physical and mental health.      The second change that is coming soon is to align myself with my identity. I have been in deep consideration and reflection and last year, I decided to act upon my gender-fluid issue by taking hormones to correct my physical form. As you know, I closely identify as female over male, and my discomfort in my body made me isolated and unwilling to be affectionate. Sorry for the ordeal this has put upon you, since taking hormones...I’ve noticed that it is so much easier to be comfortable with myself and have became deeply empathetic. It is wonderful!      If this makes you uncomfortable, I apologize and totally understand your feelings and respect any decisions you make. I     f you are willing to continue our relationship, I would like to start over! I know the past two years had some strain and I hope my choices will help us become closer. This experience has been hard upon me as I fear losing people I love, but I think it is time. I have came out to my new family to see what they think and they fully support my decisions and will help me convert over time. By summertime, I hope to leave my old life behind and become Mira Carlene Messinger.      Let me know your thoughts.      I’d like to set up a time for us to see a movie, there is a sad one about cystic fibrosis in the theaters right now. I’ve read the book, it was well written and hauntingly accurate. We could wait and see Avengers Endgame. Maybe this summer we can take a few day trips until we feel comfortable to take longer ones. Love you!

Ruth:  Hi Mira, I must say I am in awe of your courage in embracing who you are. I must also say you were right about me in noticing the characters I identify with are primarily male, and I have suspected for awhile that am either bi-gender or identify as male.

     For the time being, I'm staying physically female, but I am absolutely willing to both continue our relationship and start over.

     Once you admitted to me that you are female, it was like the whole universe aligned and everything just made sense. I would love to see a movie with you, and have been wanting to see both the CF one and the Avengers one.

     I'm dog sitting at the moment and am enjoying the time to be the alpha male I am inside. BTW, if I had been born a man, my name would be Timothy. As things stand now, I identify as both Ruth and Timothy, although only you, my sister, and my shrinks know that.

     I love you, Mira, and am excited to date my new girlfriend. Much love,      Ruth/Timothy

Mira: Much love too Ruth/Timothy...I love that name, very pretty. Be curious to hear about it!

     Sorry my last message was rushed, was talking with my soon-to-be family; been busy planning my room and needs...it is all rather exciting!  Just wanted to acknowledge your wonderful comment.      I certainly love you, either as Ruth, Timothy or both! And I wish to express my sincere gratitude that you shared this with me.      I always was pleased that you played the masculine role in our relationship...and it comforts me to start anew as your girlfriend.      It will take some time to conform, but from what my mom and dad say, looks like I am conforming quite well...even my moms 13 year old daughter is going to help me adjust...and I can always use advice along the way.      I can’t express how excited for our first date! As Mira, my world has open...it is amazing and I can’t wait to legally take the name!      Have fun dog sitting my young Alpha and I look forward to even possibly sharing our first kiss.      Let me know when you are free sweetheart!      Mira

Ruth: I will be done dog sitting on Monday. On Tuesday I work at L'Arche, but I am free all other days. As for my male name, the story behind it is quite simple. Either ultrasonic imaging hadn't been invented yet, or my parents chose not to know my gender right off the bat. My parents each chose a name for me. Dad chose Ruth Ann if I was a girl, and Mom chose Timothy John if I was a boy. I feel like both

Mira: Oh...that is so awesome! That is so wonderful that you have both of your given names! You are blessed to have such a loving mom and dad! They are great people! My schedule is pretty free, will be gone the weekend to clam dig and then gone the third weekend. I have my facenra injection on the 19th, digging clams 20-24th at Ocean Shores and see my transgender physician on the 26th for the first time. Anytime next week be wonderful!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KASS! You’ve been accepted for the role of HORATION. Admin Kaitlin: Kass!!! I was so flippin stoked when I saw that you decided to reapply for my favorite resident of the soft squad, even if they’re not exactly full soft. There’s just something about your version of Horatio that I have always been in love with, and I think you do a fabulous job of really getting across all of those unabashed emotions that plague him. I cannot wait to see them back on the dash!! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Kass

Age | 23

Preferred Pronouns | they/them

Activity Level | i’m currently in the process of moving so things are a little crazy right now, but i can usually be on a few times a week for replies !

Timezone | est

Current/Past RP Accounts | this one baybee

In Character

Character | Horatio, Hector Rivera

What drew you to this character? The way he loves and feels things so strongly, and is so unashamed of those feelings, is something that drew me in to the character. There was also a lot of things regarding his past I felt like I could play with in his present relationships, and is something I’m excited to write out. Also the way his loyalty in the mob would so easily falter were Hassan to switch sides, making him fundamentally unloyal to just about everyone else, I think would be an interesting dynamic in a group like this. Where loyalties are what comes at the forefront of most characters’ minds.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I think while a part of him feels a closeness with Roman, I do think another part of him is jealous too. He isn’t as close to Hassan as he is, of course, but they have their own jokes, have their own relationship outside of him. He doesn’t feel on the outside often when he’s around Hassan, but when he does, it’s when all three of them are together. I want something between them to blow up.

His relationship with Orion I see exploding. Hector isn’t good at controlling his feelings, he has always followed his heart over his head. I think at one point, Orion will push him too far, and Hector will snap. But immediately after, he’ll regret it, and potentially some bond there could form.

I would like for him and Genevieve to get closer, for her to show him what it’s like to have a mother who can actually love, and, when things get bad, when it’s revealed what has happened to Hassan’s father, he has to choose between a love that runs deeper than his blood, or the love of the mother he never really had.

I think seeing Hassan get so lost in himself is going to eventually drive him a little mad. He gives so much of himself to other people, to Hassan specifically, and feels peoples pain as though it is his own. He’s always there to keep him grounded, and on occasion, the favor is returned, but what happens when he gets so lost in himself and his own impossible task that Hector has to take the burden for all that has happened? All that will happen? He feels things inwardly as to not let it bother other people, this is especially the case for Hassan, especially since his father died. I think slowly but surely, his emotions will start to eat him alive. I’m not sure what that looks like yet.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? Yes

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

cw: alcoholism mention

Sitting by his bed, counting the bottles, watching him as he mumbled in his sleep, it was all he could do at times like this. His heart sunk to his stomach, his arms wrapped around it tightly as though it would help keep him together. As if taking his arms away from himself would mean he would completely unravel. He had to know what this did to him, he had to. The smell, the mumbles, the occasional groan, it was all too familiar, and it brought him back to a time he wished he could forget, his stomach once again twisting at the thought.

The countless days and nights he would watch his mother float through the house after the death of his father, walking around as if she had nowhere to go, no son to take care of. She would sit, and look out at nothing, then stand back up and continue walking, as if she had something else to do in the chair across the room. Hector would spend hours watching her moving back and forth, and back and forth, all while holding whatever her drink of choice was for the day. She would go hide in the bathroom whenever she did anything else.

He would sit by her bed at night, just like this, making sure that she didn’t go off too far, reaching over to see if he could still feel her breathing on the back of his palm. His father always said he felt as deeply as she did, loved as fiercely when things were still good between all of them, when they were still a family. It is still something his carries with pride, for this version of his mother was not the mother he knew. Was not the one he remembered now that she was gone. His mother was kind, and loving, and gave all of herself to people. That was who his mother was, and he had lost her long ago. So, when she died, when her body finally gave out on her, he didn’t go through the grieving process he should have. If anything, he felt relief. Relief that he could say goodbye to the pain that came with seeing a once great woman withering before him.

But that was not what he wanted for Hassan, that would not be Hassan’s fate.

He got into bed, when he was still fast asleep, and curled up in a ball beside him, leaning on the headboard and looking over at him, watching his chest move up, and down, and back up again, putting the back of his hand over his mouth, just to be sure, then rested it back on his knees. He knew, if he were to wake up, he would tell him he wouldn’t have to stay, that he could go home if he wanted, that all he had needed was someone to bring him home. But Hector wouldn’t ever dream of leaving him there on his own. And he imagined Hassan knew that about him by now. Knew that the oath they made when they were younger to always take care of each other was stronger now than it ever was before.

Every slight movement, even in his sleep, felt calculated. The way he would turn, but only when Hector looked away, or mumble something that made him worry, done with an indescribable grace and poise that Hector would recognize from miles away. It was what drew him to him in the first place. He reached down to run his fingers through his hair, something he could only do on certain occasions, most of them being when they were alone. It was moments like this, moments when he looked so small, that Hector wished he could take his pain away, give it to himself. And it was moments like this where he saw him as the broken man he hid from everyone else, that Hector wished he knew how to piece him back together again. But more so, that he felt an irreplaceable feeling of complete and total devotion, something that, for him, was more than love. He would do anything to ease his pain, his worry, his doubt. Anything. Even if it meant erasing himself completely.

Extras: Pinterest board here! (Blood tw) https://www.pinterest.com.mx/kassharoun/ch-hector/

HCs:

Hector’s always loved to draw, and usually would in the corner of his notebooks. Now, he’s taken to carrying a small, leather-bound notebook with him. Something to help him pass the time, and get out whatever emotion he’s been holding in.

He’s a particularly skilled fighter, but is much more talented when it comes to not leaving behind a trace. He’s learned to walk around people, to make himself invisible. He knows people and he knows what they want to hear. And he uses that to his advantage.

He has intense separation anxiety. Something about losing his parents the way he did makes him fear he’ll lose other people he cares for too. At night, it’s all he can think about. It completely encompasses him and stops him from being able to sleep.

When he was a kid, and he would have to spend nights alone, he would go out on his roof and look out at the stars, and pretend that he had a family like the ones he saw on TV. And that his mom would come in and yell at him, like a mom should, and his dad would tell him he needed to be more careful and listen to his mother, like a dad should. It never happened, of course, but those are some of his most cherished moments.

A lot of people like him, because it’s so easy for him to mold himself based on who he’s around. Sometimes, depending on the person, he feels like he completely loses himself. There are very few people in his life who he has ever felt like himself around.

[brightandunique]

Boku no Hero Academia Fiction Recommendation Master Post

I have decided my new favorite anime and its fandom deserves some appreciation. Every work I recommend are - in my personal opinion - beautiful and I want everyone to read them. If you see your work up here that’s cause I loved it to the moon and back! I welcome suggestions too!  

♥ - ultimate fav

★ - they do the do

(★) - implied sexual activities

ロ - unfinished

■ - finished

✿ - multi chapters

TodoDeku (Todoroki x Midoriya)

count your blessings, not your flaws by PitViperOfDoom  ♥ ■  

Sumary:  Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

drink my thoughts by celestialfics  ■

Summary:  [02:13 AM] todoroki: Are you awake?

Gradations by Haurvatat  ★■ ✿

Summary:  U.A.'s Heroics Division's Class A was graduating. Moving on. Never coming back. And Izuku is going to be left behind, solidly trapped in a prison of his own making. There might be a few things that could make it more bearable, though.

it could be worse by bigspoonnoya  ♥ ■

Summary:  Todoroki is bad at presents, and worse at confessions.

It must be the heat by Sleeves  ■

Summary:  I wrote some silly fluff for Izuku's birthday. Happy bday, little hero egg!

Nerves of Ice by furihatachlookie  ♥ ■

Summary: Todoroki felt his own breath drop in temperature as the nerves settled in, steam rising with each steady exhale. He continued to stare, as if expecting the same to happen to Midoriya when he caught a whiff of cool mint as the boy spoke, face inches from his. In which Midoriya has a better grasp on the changes happening in Todoroki than Todoroki himself.

one string, fit for a bow by furihatachlookie  ♥ ■

Summary: There was no magical moment that played a part in Midoriya's realization that he liked Todoroki. The thin red string that greeted him every time he looked down at his hand was an obvious factor, yes, but it wasn't love at first sight either. It sorta just... happened over time.

project cupid by amoxicillings  ロ ✿

Summary:  In which Todoroki Shouto is trying to ask Midoriya out and the whole class is in on it.

Riddles in the Heart by PitViperOfDoom  ♥ ■ ✿

Summary: The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye. Of course, there's only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

Summer Starts by PitViperOfDoom  ■ ✿

Summary:  It's been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn't Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

Note: Part 6 of Send Endeavor to the Shadow Realm series. First part: Spring Cleaning

waterlogged (red blue, green) by lein  ■

Summary: Izuku has never been one to curse but the only way to describe himself as his mother hugs him goodbye that morning, is royally fucked.He’s really, truly glad no one in their class has a mind-reading quirk because from the minute his feet touched warm sand, his mind has been screaming in tune to the same famous classical overtures Tenya listens to when they study together. Occasionally, the music pauses just long enough for his brain to point out observations about Shouto that make Izuku want to stick his head under the waves and just breathe in.

prince & prince by Authorless  ♥ ★ ロ ✿

Summary:  Note to self: don't accidentally fall in love with a prince who's in an arranged marriage keeping your kingdoms from declaring war against each other. Especially when you're spying on him as his manservant.

Note: Part 1 of the kings & queens of promise series.

saltwater room by reapers  ■ ✿

Summary: It starts —like all ideas that inevitably lead to one’s downfall do— with something akin to this: Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku and a five-story house by the beach, completely devoid of any entry-fee --save for the one where Todoroki has to pretend to be Deku’s boyfriend. All-in-all though, not an awful price to pay for the vacation of their dreams, right? Right?

how would you feel by celestialfics  ♥ ■ ✿

Summary:  It’s Wednesday morning when Izuku’s mother texts him to remind him about his cousin’s wedding coming up the following weekend, and it’s Wednesday evening, when Izuku’s back in his room after classes and has time to call her, that she tells him she can’t go to the wedding with him.

One of “Those” by Ultimatum  ■

Summary: Todoroki and Midoriya are pro heroes. They're also dating.These two aspects clash when they're outed to the entire world as Japan's first officially gay heroes.

a burger and extra salty fries by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)  ■ 

Summary: In his third year at UA, Todoroki Shouto works in a burger place, catches on fire and falls in love. Only two of those things are on purpose. Or...Todoroki Shouto's exciting adventures in customer service.

Note: First part of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series! The next TodoDeku part of the series: get in loser, we’re going heroing

How to Be a Hero by Hummus King  ♥ ロ ✿

Summary:  Shouto Todoroki is a cold Pro Hero who never uses his fire side. He refuses to be like his father, Endeavor, but every day it seems like he's becoming more like him. Shouto meets up with Izuku Midoriya, a quirkless Pro Hero counselor and discovers that his power is his own. Also... he might be falling in love with his counselor. // AU where Deku never received One for All and became a quirk counselor instead!

that is just the way by celestialfics  ■

Summary: Shouto has his first sleepover.

the end of the world as you know it (and what comes after) by jambell  ■

Summary:  In the wake of All Might’s death, Izuku grieves. (Post-Graduation/Future Fic)

demolition lovers: beginnings by TMOTC  ロ ✿

Summary: It was a mistake, Shouto thinks, to fall in love with a hero. (Or the one where Todoroki is a Quirkless school nurse and Hero Deku’s longsuffering boyfriend.)

Note: Part 1 of the demolition lovers series.

KiriBaku (Kirishima x Bakugou) 

2am Knows All Secrets by Sarahhaley  ♥ (★) ロ ✿

Summary: … It wasn’t that he was annoyed. Okay, maybe he was a little annoyed, but that was just the lack of sleep talking. Because a certain explosive punk thought it was a good idea to test the flammability of his sheets at 2 in the morning. Every single morning. (In which Bakugou's quirk wakes Kirishima up, and Kirishima gets way too invested in his bro's well-being.)

a heart swelled to bursting by eggstasy  ★ ■ ✿

Summary:  The summer training camp of Bakugou's second year at UA descends upon him with all the untamed fury of- well, himself, honestly.

Communicate With Your Body by xX_KUUHAKU_Xx  ♥ ★ ロ ✿

Summary: "Hey! Wake up you piece of shit! Are you alive?!" The man winces and scrunches his face in pain but Bakugou continued to hold him in place. Good, he's alive- Piercing red eyes flutter open and gaze lazily straight at Bakugou's face and Bakugou feels his heart skip a beat. Oh, Fuck- AKA merman! Kirishima au

downhill by eggstasy  ■

Summary: Bakugou sleeping in the common areas like it’s no big deal seems to give everyone else permission to be just as bizarre, and little by little Kirishima starts learning things about his classmates he never knew.  

Love, Buried in the Ice by Tukson  ロ ✿

Summary:  Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou are paired together for a winter survival assignment! It's inevitable that the two clash, but neither of them could have predicted an accident at the height of their tension. Trapped in the wilderness at the mercy of the environment, how will the two cope with finding help and mending what was broken?

parted, and never parted by Authorless  ■

Summary:  Before going into battle, it’s only proper to make an offering to the god of war. But Kirishima’s run out of things to give. AKA God of War! Bakugou au

yes, you say you’d like to by Authorless  ♥ (★) ■

Summary: “You’re a popsicle biter, you fucking animal,” Bakugou says. “You’re not?” Kirishima says around a mouthful of ice cream. “No,” Bakugou says. “I prefer my teeth unfrozen, thanks.” He wraps his mouth around the popsicle and Kirishima realizes his mistake very, very quickly.

don’t count on me to let you know when by newamsterdam  ★■

Summary:  Kirishima has always made things easy for Bakugou. But that doesn't mean that Bakugou's gotten any better at these things, even after all of these years.

come @ me bro by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)  ■

Summary: Bakugou works at a convenience store, flirts like a loser, blows up nineteen aprons, gets a hashtag trending for all the wrong reasons and maybe manages to make a friend. Or...being Bakugou Katsuki is suffering.

Note: Part two of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series

it’s pouring out here by shizuumi151  ■

Summary: With phone, money, and keys in his pocket, Kirishima wandered around the city for an age. With his legs on auto-pilot his mind wandered too. To the new movie that peppered the streets in posters and trailers, a new move he wanted to practise for another basketball play, wondering about how the current arcs for his favourite manga would turn out in the next issue of Jump. And, of course, he thought about how many of those things he could see and do with Bakugou.

The Beauty of a Beast by starofjems   ロ ✿

Summary: Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast. Or the beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

[vanessa-0188]

I feel like you make up stuff for attention. Like there's ALWAYS something going on with you to make others feel bad for you.

I wish you'd messaged me with your URL so I could answer this privately, but alas... For clarity, and transparencies sake I'm going to clue you in on a little bit about my life story.I was born at 24 weeks gestation to teenage parents who, frankly, weren't ready to be parents (though I don't know what teens WOULD be). My mom got her shit together pretty rapidly after I was born; my dad was a different story but we'll jump back to him in a second.I, because of premature birth, was born with two underlying conditions that have caused the rest of my health problems. I am not a medical professional, so I am going to google/copy-paste the definition of these conditions here, and then relay to you how they've informed my life.1. Cerebral Palsy: While Cerebral Palsy (pronounced seh-ree-brel pawl-zee) is a blanket term commonly referred to as “CP” and described by loss or impairment of motor function, Cerebral Palsy is actually caused by brain damage. The brain damage is caused by brain injury or abnormal development of the brain that occurs while a child’s brain is still developing — before birth, during birth, or immediately after birth.Cerebral Palsy affects body movement, muscle control, muscle coordination, muscle tone, reflex, posture and balance. It can also impact fine motor skills, gross motor skills and oral motor functioning. (Source: cerebralpalsy.org)2. VATER Syndrome: VACTERL or VATER association is an acronym used to describe a series of characteristics which have been found to occur together... Babies who have been diagnosed as having VACTERL association usually have at least three or more of these individual anomalies. There is a wide range of manifestation of VACTERL association so that the exact incidence within the population is not exactly known, but has been estimated to occur in one in 10,000 to 40,000 newborns. (Source: cincinnatichildrens.org)Cerebral Palsy has left me permanently wheelchair bound (I have 0% walking or standing capabilities), and sometimes causes me motor issues with my hands (I.E. they shake during activities, are never fully non-spastic). As far as VATER I've tried to spare myself a little dignity by omitting the exact definition of the acronym, but google it for your own knowledge if you'd like; I don't have all of the conditions in the acronym, but this syndrome has caused me a lifetime of debilitating gastro-intestinal issues, furthered orthopedic problems, and most damningly- it KILLED my left kidney completely when I was two days old. Suffice it to say my life has never been medically easy.I mentioned before that my dad never really got his shit together to be a dad. My parents never had a formal custody agreement. But my mom did what she thought was right in trying to give my little brother and I opportunity to maintain a relationship with our dad. She'd drop us off with him at our paternal grandmothers house every-other weekend. I could sit here and tell you countless stories of abuse and neglect, but I'll just give you dear-old-dad's greatest-hits:* 1:00a.m. one night when I'm about eight years old (this would make my brother about four). My dad has friends over playing dominoes and drinking. We're awake still. I pipe up, "dad, we're tired, please take us to bed...", He threw a pillow and my head and said "if you're so damn tired make beds for you and [your brother] on the floor. When I protested he came over, knocked me down to a laying position, got inches from my face and screamed "shut the fuck up!"* Again, another friend-gathering. I really REALLY had to pee. He was in the bathroom on the phone. I waited HOURS for him to come out (there was only one bathroom I could use, and I needed his help). When his friends begged him to come help me. I ended up having an accident on the floor. He violently shoved my nose in it like a dog.I never told my mom or teacher or grandparents about any of this because I didn't know any better; I thought that was what all dads did. Until I was 10.* At age 10, on my dads birthday, we wanted to have a dinner for him. My mom obliged, inviting him to our apartment. It was also Super Bowl Sunday... he agreed to come over after he watched the game with his friends. My brother and I were so excited- we made cards and helped my mom bake a cake. That night we picked my dad up from a friends house, drove through and got dinner, and on the way home he and my mom started arguing. We got inside, they served us dinner, my mom set me up on a dining chair to eat, and they went to her room to "talk". Sometime later I heard violent screaming, and instructed my brother to go investigate. I'm sparing my own-psyche and the dignity of the other victims by withholding too-many details but that ended in holes in walls, my mom almost dying in front of me, injuries to my brother,a grade-three concussion for myself, and threats of death for us all by gun violence.I didn't talk to my dad again til I was 22. At that time I was struggling emotionally, longing for a relationship with him, and there were growing-pains at home as I was a young-adult who wanted to live a certain way that didn't conform with my moms house-rules. My dad and I had been in contact again for a short time. After a heated argument with my mother and stepfather (she married when I was 13), my father offered to let me stay with him. Things were great living there, until* One night he decided to push my boundaries, taking a trivial disagreement over taxes and house payments of all things, and bringing my mother into it. My anxiety flaired, and I tried to flee to my room. He followed me, grabbed me by the wheelchair, and held me in place, grabbing my hands and imploring me to hit him. He continued antagonizing me for hours, at one point when I called my mother terrified for my life, he taunted her as well. Through ingenious planning by Sheriffs and family, I was saved with only a split bottom lip and chipped-tooth.(And I guess I should note here that my sperm-donor of a biological father has spent time in jail for abusing us.)I spent time after that trying to heal my soul. Got to a good place in life where I was happy. Moved to my own assisted-living apartment. Then my bladder failed, resulting in me needing a permanent catheter. A month later my remaining kidney failed, resulting in my need for dialysis (for your reference, "The main purpose of dialysis is to help impaired renal function. When your kidneys are damaged, they are no longer able to remove wastes and excess fluid from your bloodstream efficiently. Wastes such as nitrogen and creatinine build up in the bloodstream. If you have been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease (CKD), your doctor will have these levels carefully monitored. Before dialysis, patients often felt weak and ill. Dialysis brings relief from these symptoms. This is the primary benefit of dialysis.Dialysis is done by using a special fluid called dialysate. Dialysate, a mixture of pure water and chemicals, is carefully controlled to pull wastes out of your blood without removing substances your body needs. A semipermeable membrane (one with microscopic holes that allow only certain types of particles to pass through) keeps the blood apart from the dialysate. This membrane lets the wastes and fluid in your blood flow through into the dialysate. Your blood cells and larger molecules, like protein that you need, cannot fit through the holes. There are two main types of kidney dialysis: hemodialysis (HD) and peritoneal dialysis (PD). [Source: DaVita]). I do hemodialysis: three days a week, four hours each time, I go to my dialysis clinic where they hook me up to my dialysis machine. My blood is filtered through a catheter that has been surgically connected to my heart. As I mentioned in my concert post, this process makes me vomit, and can sometimes induce symptoms that make me feel like I'm having a heart-attack. I'm on the transplant list, but due to my various GI surgeries I may not be a viable candidate. Time will tell. If not, I will have to do dialysis for the rest of my life.I had a best friend who, due to things that were my own fault, I've now lost my friendship with. In areas where I lacked support, she was my number one. This loss has been so hard in conjunction with my health issues; I'm grieving it right now.So yes, I'm aware it seems there's always something; that's because unfortunately there is. My life is messy, and complicated as hell. I'm very emotional, and I require a lot of support- something I'm not afraid to reach out for here on tumblr (even if it's in the form of fic distractions). If that bothers you, please scroll by- and if you feel the need to say something on anon, it's probably best left unsaid.Oh, and because we're at this point where you've got me airing dirty laundry, I'll be posting picture proof of some medical problems in my next post (I'm on mobile so I can't do it here 😉)Love Always,Vanessa

[brandnuswagga]

The Unemployed Chronicles pt. 7 Keep the Faith

I had been meaning to add another installment to the #unemployedchronicles but I always got sidetracked. Last night while playing GTA 5 (my new found outlet) I had an urging then on this morning I had an interesting phone call that cemented my intentions. This month has been tough for me. I lost someone who was like a 2nd mother to me. There are no words that can describe how I felt and still feel. Then my boys, my sons, whom I have been with since 2013 or 2014, had decided that they would be returning to me the upcoming school year. I was floored. I had watched the younger one leave, from my home, for the 1st day of school since the 4th grade. He is now going to the 8th grade (I hate Facebook Memories). I could not focus on the boys leaving because that would do more damage than good. I had another important date quickly approaching that I was not looking forward to and a home-going celebration to prepare for. My god-sister called me and asked if I would do a slideshow that would play during the viewing portion of the home-going celebration, I agreed. The funny thing is that my godmother had me prepare for this nearly a year ago. She asked me to come over and take all the photos off her phone and put them on her computer so that I could do a slideshow movie. I didn't understand why she wanted me to back then but I understand now. Fast forward, I get through the home-going, not without balling my eyes out and having more than a few breakdown moments. The family came together and celebrated her life, love, and legacy on August 16th & 17th she would have wanted. Their strength during that time was nothing short of amazing. Her daughter, by God grace and mercy, gathered enough strength not to only sing a solo but also to speak about her mother but also give us words of encouragement. Her son spoke as well then reminded us that she is sleep that we will see her again in that "great getting up morning". Whew, I'm tearing up thinking about it, moving on. We came together again on August 20th, for what would have been her 55th birthday, for a balloon release. Again, the family pulled together against anguish, grief, and pain and celebrated her once again. While I am yet grieving the loss of my godmother and the fact that my boys aren't returning August 21st walks right in. August 21st marked the day I was let go from the hotel and the last day I was employed full-time. I was saddened that I had not (in my mind) progressed in 2 years. I was still without full-time employment. I was still living with my mother. I am without my boys for the 1st time in about 5 or 6 years. I was at a crossroads of my life at 40 years old. I don't consult too many people because their advice is counterproductive for me. I have lived my life taking care of others for so long and now I have no one to take care of but myself. I know I need to give myself some "me time" and I have been for the better part of the summer since the boys left. I have taken myself to the movies. I have gone out to eat. I have catered to me. But I had not focused on me. Focusing on me meant, mind, body, and soul, it meant emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It meant a mental health check (just talking to someone about what's going on with you). I know that taboo but I love me too much and I feel like that I can't pull off (fashion-wise) that white jacket with the extra-long sleeves and buckles. I can't do white rooms and I am not for any more extended stays in any more state-run facilities that are not my home (don't ask). I had to be aware of my physical health. After my accident in July, I have been experiencing some back and leg pains. I have been going to doctors and physical therapy and it has helped. I have lost about 12lbs within the last month. I contribute the weight loss to PT and also some to life's unforeseen circumstances. My goal is to drop an additional 63lbs, y'all pray for me. The last one, soul & spirit, is the most important because it is tied to my spirit. You see if I am not fit spiritually and my soul is not anchored, then this past month I would have been a wreck. The losses and devastation have taken a toll on me but it has not taken me out. I had an interesting phone call today with my nephew, Brandon. I was facing some hardships and it was beginning to weigh him down so much that he starts to doubt and question whether he should throw in the towel. We bantered back and forth on various subjects and scenarios until something hit me. Had I not going through a certain race in my life back in 2009 then I would not have been able to endure this hurdles I am facing now in 2019. If I had not gotten over the mountain then, I would not be able to deal with the hill of today. I understand what faith and patience is because I had to have them both to get out of the valley of shadows and death. I had to have faith and patience then to believe that God was going to bring me out and restore me (my godmother told me that 15yrs ago). I had to believe that a door was going to open for me and it did in 2010. My faith and patience along with the saints' prayers produce a job that normally would not have been possible for me to have. Remember with God nothing is impossible. I was blessed to be able to not only obtain the job but also be promoted to the top. I was blessed to be able to give my godson his first job. I was able to give some people the same opportunity that was given to me. Life was good. But now, I am in the same position I was in 10 years ago and I have to stand and believe that the same God that did it then will do it now. I have been on countless interviews. I have submitted resumes endlessly. I have applied to hundreds of jobs and nothing has come of it. The conversation between my nephew and I went on and I had to tell him that I have experienced dark time and they will pass. I just have to keep believing that "This too will pass." That means I have to keep applying to jobs. I have to keep submitting my resume. I have to keep going on these interviews because God WILL open a door. God WILL make a way. God WILL answer. I have to believe that He WILL because if I give up then I doomed. I will have accepted failure. I will be the thing that I despise the most and scares me as well; a sorry ass man who lives at home with his momma and does nothing all day. He looks to be taken care of without putting forth an effort to care for himself. He has placed his care and well-being in the hands of others while he sits and does nothing. That very thing pushes me each and every day to get out of the house and do something. I contribute to the household and I try to be as helpful as I can. My mom is great but can be too easy and that annoys me so much. Mothers, wives, girlfriends, sisters, cousin, fathers, brothers, etc, don't make it easy for any man to live with you and not contribute to the household. If he is not being an asset then he is a liability. Set rules and boundaries. Give him a reasonable timeline that is can/will be adjusted based on his activity, meaning if he is not doing anything then his timeline is very short. However, if he is out there grinding and pounding the pavement and things are not moving as fast but he is trying then extend the timeline as you see fit. Do not allow a man to sit do nothing and be nothing under your watch. You will leave the earth one day and there is a chance that no one else will but up with your baby so make him move. Push him out the nest. Throw him in the water because anything less would be a disservice to him in the long run. Set rules for your home and he must live by. People with no other place to go will follow those rules and those that don't must have another spot that can lay up. In closing, I don't know who you are but don't give up. God timing and your timing are not the same. I have struggled with the fact that I am 40yrs old trying to find a good-paying job so that I can restart my life (again!) but I have to remember the story of Abraham and Sarah. When I see visions of myself working and in my own home but the surroundings of today don't match up, I have to remember that David was anointed to be king when he was a youth or adolescent but did not become king until he was 30 years old. God is always on time. God will never leave you nor forsake you. God is working things out in the unseen so when it is your time, you will walk in it with ease. So wake up each day expecting it to be the day and carry on with the expectancy, thankfulness, and gratitude. Remember, each day you wake up is God saying "I'm not finished with you yet." Today will be great and tomorrow will be better. Believe in the unbelievable. Wait with expectancy. Don't focus on what you have lost but focus on what you still have. Be thankful because it truly could be worse but God's grace and mercy have kept you and will continue to until He calls you home.

[hayleylovesyou2]

Bobby Died.

This morning work was cancelled after what felt like a too-long-holiday with too-much-time alone … I found the article “When An Ex Dies” (http://www.nextavenue.org/no-place-grief-ex-dies/) in my FB feed, detailing the unexpected death of an ex-husband - father of her children, remarried with a teenage son - and finding her place in the grieving process. They were no longer friends, didn’t talk much, but their lives were intimately intertwined for longer than not.

Then a google search uncovered a Hello Giggles piece on the death of an ex-boyfriend, hospitalized for 28 days before dying of heart failure, and the strange space that occupies.  Once inseparable, but never married. Close with family, but that was 2 years ago. Would he have wanted her there? Was she allowed to be with his family? She had a month as he was hospitalized to wrestle these questions.

It made me think about what happens when we’re socially denied the right to our feelings. our experiences. What happens when we’re alone with our pain and not allowed to grieve.

Because more than what happens when an ex dies, I wonder.

What happens if an ex dies, and no one knows you existed. And he died quickly. 

And horribly.

I used to joke “boyfriend” was a strong word, though that’s what I call him today. It’s easier. Feels true. But in the moment before Facebook, there was no “it’s complicated” to point to. Did we date? We did go “out” once or twice. Whispering in halls after class, a subtle graze on the shoulder, little secret pinch at our mutual work. After visits at 2am, or nights he didn’t go home. We knew what the other looked like without any clothes. Mostly, we wrote. Corresponded like old-fashioned pen-pals in an emerging digital age. Livejournal, Xanga, Myspace, Deviant Art, OkCupid, AIM. He was a beautiful writer, photographer, creator. He could turn a phrase in the way that sparked my heart and ignited my brain, activating my desire to create that had waned in a dead, ill-matched-to-me place. He inspired me to write as much and as well as he did. I’d churn out content in hopes for a comment, like, response. Experiment. To impress. We’d chat for hours in our separate rooms on our separate giant desktop computers about how isolating being somewhere we didn’t feel like we belonged felt, and why we stayed, our plans to get out. His brain worked the same way my brain did. Neither of us had a southern accent. We liked the same films, music, politics. In any other city or timeline - in a healthy world - this would sound eye-rollingly mundane. But in my accidental religious college I felt trapped in, landlocked in a rural corner of a rural state that was so far from what I wanted and where I wanted to be … it felt like magic to have found him. And to have found him by accident. At the last possible second. It was a psychic, emotional, intellectual connection. Bobby meant the world to me. But we didn’t date. I wasn’t his girlfriend. His friends didn’t get it, and were kept out of the loop. No one knew what I thought I knew. That my love for Bobby was true.

But I was not the love of his life.

He had a crush on a gentle British soccer player named Jenny, who he told me about … later. His blog posts, vague odes to love … we’re not about me, as I had thought. Hoped. Wondered. But his love was also unrequited, and that didn’t stop the sleepovers. Pinches. Hours crafting kinetic poetic essays on AIM.

We met on a media-arts trip to Dallas. I had seen him, but we’d never spoken. He was classically attractive - over 6ft tall, awkward and hunchy. A recently nerdy chubby boy who had no idea what effect he could have on a girl. In Georgia … at that school … I naturally assumed the worst, about a blonde boy with big steel-blue eyes. Everyone was conservative, Baptist, liked hunting, sports, and the other things that didn’t impress my bitterly equally stereotypical 90s-gothy-art heart. But we’d moved into the aughts, and the Iraq War was underway, and I’d given up on finding anyone who made me feel anything other than invisible, impossibly lonely, terrifyingly hated. So that day in Dallas, i wagered I was ½ way to L.A. And I started driving west, away. But I got a call that some of the “yearbook kids” wanted to go with me to see Margaret Cho, a show nearby I’d found, that the “newspaper” crew had all turned down. And yeah, traffic was bad. And sure, I’d left all my clothes at the hotel. So I figured we’d go see the show, THEN I’d run away. Just in time, I picked them up. And that’s when I first met Bobby, and fell.

My CD case was filled with bizarre mixes from the expiring gasp of Napster’s bastard child, and film soundtracks. And usually Cats, just to piss people off. One previous attempt at college friendship led to a girl I was driving up the mountain to mock a really dumb song by an awful band about pinball (and the wizards who sure could play it) while I tried not to beat myself to death on the steering wheel. So I fired up a “weirder” CD* - Kill Bill soundtrack I think - to defiantly be me in front of these strangers I was sure were about to offend me. (*Obviously this is hardly a weird soundtrack, but this is Georgia, 2003.)

But Bobby knew what it was, basic though now it seems. Excited. We talked about the movie enthusiastically, the first person I got to discuss it with, the whole drive there. The rest of the car was offended by Cho - half the audience walked out when she tackled Iraq - but Bobby and I easily agreed. It didn’t matter it wasn’t funny. Nothing had been funny in over 2 years. And we both found we weren’t easy to offend, at least not with rebel trappings of sex, drugs, and political whims. We parted that night with lingering eye contact, a shy smile. A plan to see a movie the next night while everyone else watched football.

I stayed. I didn’t run away to LA.

The next night, during the final Matrix film, our pinkies teased, curious and unsure, creeping back and forth around excuses to pass popcorn and fake scares, until we finally held hands. After, in the hotel, I wanted to show him something in another room. I’d never felt that kind of clean attraction, never felt it so confidently, boldly. We talked close. Then forehead to forehead. Then lips to lips. Talking, still. Giggling. We kissed. 

Until a yearbook kid, jealous? perhaps? barged in and told Bobby they had all decided to leave for home, immediately, so pack up. I could come, too, but they wouldn’t wait. I had driven 4 other members of newspaper, so I ran to their rooms and desperately tried to convince them to leave. Or Bobby would stay, if one of them would trade. But of course not, disappointment reigned. I offered to leave my car. They called me selfish. Bobby left. I stayed.

Our time was short. 3 months, tops. We saw each other, touched each other, he took me to the homecoming dance as my first, proper date. We danced. He was an early adopter of the White Stripes, such a relief from a sea of Creed, and we’d talk, listen, dream. But for the crush I had on him, he didn’t have the same on me, despite our mental connection, and as I slowly (very slowly) let that settle in … I didn’t take it very well. I took it very not well. So not well I can’t really remember the next phase. Before you judge too harshly, a sad girl who blacked out when another flawed human didn’t turn into a prince, a savior, turning this story into a fairy tale. Please understand how dire it had been right before he appeared. Sometimes I think the universe sent him to me to keep me safe, from running away, to finish out a final semester in one piece. A little kindness, a booster seat. Bobby was always meant to be short lived.

The last night before winter break he said he was going to come over, then said he was coming with friends. I bribed older kids to buy me $50 worth of beer. Also picked up a party platter, so they’d like me, I was scared of his friends. It was a redemption, a chance to reconcile. But he didn’t come. I texted, he stopped replying. Called more times than socially acceptable. But at 2:30am the doorbell rang. Bobby had come! He cared! And I bounded to greet him … only it wasn’t him. It was a strung out stranger, raging, who started hitting me, tried to push his way in. I fought him off and locked the door, called 911 who told me it wasn’t real. Called Bobby, who finally answered and told me I was lying for attention, insane. My parents got me the next day. And I never returned to Georgia.

I started a new school in January. I knew it was necessary, but I was still in love with Bobby. We kept talking, blogging, calling. I was lonely and would photograph my new surroundings and send the pictures to him, for critiques.  We’d set concert dates that fell apart hours beforehand. I shipped him t-shirts as surprises he never admitted receiving. I visited near spring break with a box of gifts, $100 of books and tschotskes that I individually wrapped and carefully decorated with quotes from his favorite books, songs, Jack White, films. I dropped it off at his dorm, but he said he never got it. He said it was stolen, and i was an idiot for leaving it. He had told me he’d be there, so I sat outside awhile and called, waited, asked his hallmates where he was. Said I made him look like an asshole, a bad guy, and he was done dealing with me. I still believe he had the gift, maybe threw it away without opening it in a fit, but something always felt off about his recounting of events. Later I learned he had fallen in love with a girl he followed to Honduras, and was at a concert with her that day. It was all over a then secret blog, one I found after he was gone. I was at a new school and met new people. Hurt, changing, our connection faded out. In person, I never saw him again, though sometimes I’d quietly and secretly check in.

My birthday 2006, he messaged me. First time in forever. He apologized, said he often thought of me, and hoped i was well. I cautiously wished the same. He had decided to stay in town a year after graduation to stay with his friends, I was a super-senior due to the transfer and in no rush because I had essentially started all over again. He got his first job as an AD on a small feature shooting in town and was writing again. I ran my school film committee, and was wrapping up a degree with a minor in cinema. I saw a future unfold in front of me, how Bobby would return to me, where we’d reunite, as collaborators at least, in film, in Los Angeles, CA. We chatted on FB and joked about films, pop culture, cylons. Do you remember the early days of social media? When Facebook would email you when you got a wall post or comment, but it just would just say “Bobby posted on your wall!” to send you to go and check.

And in late January 2007, I received a series of these emails saying Bobby had commented on a photo, posted on my wall. But he must have deleted them, I never saw what he said. I was newly embroiled in a tumultuous, confusing relationship and didn’t reach out to ask, though it struck me more than it should. He also seemed to be in a new relationship he was pretty into, posting vague poetry and odes to love. He posted on Valentines Weekend 2007 that he was fixing something that was long overdue. To do it right, finally. It sounded confident, optimistic, resolute.

The same Valentines Weekend of 2007, I was to go to a protest in Washington D.C., but I pulled out at the last minute. I had a feeling in my chest, a dread, an inner scream too loud to ignore, but too deep to let out. So I lied and said I had a funeral to attend on Tuesday, throwing my favorite aunt under the bus. I felt weird, dark, scared. I was convinced something bad was going to happen – it was icy, maybe there was going to be a wreck? I was low on money, I said. They were mad I flaked, and left me alone, behind.

Now you could say I saw it immediately, but it took me a full 3 days to “see.”

His post had a lot of comments, maybe everyone knew what he was talking about, or it was a quote I had missed, I speculated. I talked to my co-worker (who I ALSO had had a huge crush on) about him, told him about Bobby, how I had loved him. That they were both talented. Maybe we’d all work together some day. This was Friday.

There were an unusual number of pictures on FB about Bobby. I smiled. I loved Bobby. These were great pictures. I should ask him what he wrote on my wall.

There were an unusual amount of comments about Bobby. About Bobby being a good guy. I smiled. Bobby was a great guy. Not even weird, everyone knew it. We’d had our pain, and troubles, but I loved Bobby dearly. This was Saturday.

Then in the early AM … all my friends in Washington DC … I it. I saw the “was.”  Bobby ‘was’ such a great guy.

Even then, I was like “what did Bobby do? Did he get in trouble? Is he not a good guy?”

“Bobby was a great guy, I’m shocked by the news, I don’t believe it.”

WHAT NEWS.

“Bobby was so kind, he didn’t deserve this.” Comment after comment, picture after picture, reality came into view.

Bobby had died over Valentines Weekend, 2007.

Bobby didn’t just die. He died badly.

And Bobby didn’t die in an accident, though that is what they told his aging dad.

Bobby was murdered. Brutally. 

Murdered running for his life after his girlfriend, who he was naked in bed with the morning after Valentines day, was killed at close range.

Murdered by her ex, a sad man who seemed confused he couldn’t own someone, a weak man sent by the devil to take two bright, shinning lives, when he found them in her home when he showed up unannounced. So went to his car, grabbed his good-ole-boy gun, and shot them both more times than is needed to kill someone. She was in the bedroom. Bobby made it to the front lawn. I couldn’t breathe. He was gone. His Facebook status was updated in the wee am to “Bobby is dead.” 

A memorial group was set up, in it’s haste called “Bobby: You Won’t Never Be Forgotten” and a girl from the car that night in Dallas kindly added me. No one knew what to do. So jokes were made.

And there was a funeral. It was Tuesday.

—-

He was my highest match on a dating site in the whole southeast for years. When we met, we were 84%. And the thing about the dating site was … they didn’t delete his profile. It stayed up almost 10 years. This year, 2016, was the year it finally disappeared. And this year … we matched at 99%. I know that is who I am with who he was, but still. 99%.

I live in LA now … and I think I live here for him. He would’ve been so much more successful than me, so much more easily. But I think I fight for him. I need to make something for him, because he couldn’t. I need to be something, someone. Because he never will.

And I think of Bobby everytime I hear Jack White. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes it hurts too much. I had a White Stripes song in my head just last night. I guess that’s part of what triggered this today. It’s so easy to get laughed at, getting emotional at songs from a band who are currently pretty basic and passé. Wanting to tell, but think no one cares?

What do you do when you loved someone who died, and you’re not allowed to love them?

I don’t know if Bobby wants my love, or appreciates it, or it matters to him in death. If he’d want me to keep talking about him, or pretending like I have a right to a piece of him. But based on the last time we really talked, I hope he would understand. And appreciate. And that this love … though not a reciprocated romantic love … was still valuable.

Because I will always deeply love Bobby. And in 6 weeks, he’ll have been gone 10 years.

I don’t want to be trapped by the past. Caught up in pain. This year I want to honor Bobby in a positive way … by making something for him. To honor him.

I hope I can.