#she's going to have relapses and make bad decisions along the way

[whitherwanderer]

30 // amity

Breath slow. Eyes open. Hands steady, for once. It was nice not to feel how much of her strength she’d lost and still be able to aim straight.

When was the last time she did this? When was the last time she did this and felt something good?

She squared her posture, pulled her arm back tight, and stared down the first bottle she’d perched on a rock. She took her time. She felt through herself, the wind, the savory calm. And when she was ready, it wasn't a matter of letting go in the way she was used to. Instead, she gripped tight. She squeezed the trigger.

Her arms jerked, but she held herself steady. It wasn’t as loud as she remembered, though the shot rang through the desert and scared the nearby birds into flight or silence. And her target? Sif’s heart nearly burst into flames in her chest when all she could see of it were glittering shards of brown glass littering the dirt. But she pulled a deep breath. Then another. Measured. Composed. For a beat.

Her boot came down hard into the gravel and her arms went up in the air, barking a laugh at herself as she pulled the weapon—this hard-won trophy, a symbol that she wasn’t a failure but merely changed—close to her chest to feel the heat off of it. “Gods, damn it. Finally,” she sighed, an irrepressible smile on her lips.

If only she had more than a precious few bullets, she might have fired off another round or two, become more familiar with the weapon, built her confidence and learned her limits. But this? This small, long-sought victory was enough for now. Enough to assure her that she could still be good for something. That he alone wouldn't have to bear the responsibility of protecting them both.

Spinner would have Her way of turning her fortunes tomorrow, Sif wagered, but today? Today was hers.

She settled down in the shade of the ironwood under which they’d made camp and set the weapon aside in favor of a flask, lifting it to the heavens in thanks before bringing it to her lips. As a bitter taste flooded her tongue, she was given pause, then huffed to herself.

A battle-in-progress that she was fighting on a quieter front. Tea.

[noxexistant]

ai-less whumptober; day twenty-four

@ailesswhumptober 24 — deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.” ↳ modern au, katherine and the delanceys share a flat word count; 1.8k

cw; graphic self-harm, mentions of suicide, mental illness, mentions of hallucinations

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Katherine often has to try and hide the fact that Oscar and Morris still make her nervous.

She should be past it by now. It's been near a full year since she answered that ad for a roommate, moved into a less-than-dazzling apartment with the two brothers on the other side of Manhattan to where she'd grown up, but they've made it work since.

She'd never moved out, at least, despite every difficulty. Despite Jack finding out a week in and trying to demand that she's not allowed to live with his old foster brothers, and the subsequent fight she'd had with him about trying to control her, twist her arm to move back in with her father — perhaps she'd been a little sensitive from his constant calls — and her being a grown woman who can make her own decisions, look after herself, despite what her father and Jack and his friends all seem to think.

It's never been easy. The Delanceys truly aren't ideal roommates, but Katherine knows she isn't either. Between Oscar's thoughtless violent tendencies and drinking habits, Morris' complex trauma and disconcerting coping mechanisms, and Katherine's own actions she's become all too aware of — emotional wounds from her father and the typical lack of tact of an heiress, the way she gets mean when she's angry, can never hold her tongue.

But they've been making it work.

She really does consider them friends.

Considers Morris a friend, at least, who has always been easier to get along with. Been trying so hard, at first, that Katherine had quite genuinely thought him fine in sharp contrast to his brother — normal, as much as she hates herself for using the word. Until that illusion had been shattered. Suddenly, and without warning, and only a month or so into her time with them.

It had started with yet another fight she'd witnessed between them, Morris storming off at the end of it, all of which had become standard practice for near every night with the brothers. There was a stretch of silence, normal enough too — until she'd heard Oscar smash the bathroom door in down the hall, and heard him holler at her, voice shaking in a way she'd never heard before, to order an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

She'd never seen that much blood before, spread out in a pool in the bathroom and smeared on every surface in shaky handprints. Morris limp and white as a sheet in the middle of it all, wrists carved open.

They'd come home some time in the early hours of the morning, Morris' wrists stitched up and bandaged, Oscar holding onto him, all of them silent.

It'd been another thing she'd made them talk about, in the wake of it. Both seemed quite content to leave it there, never address it, just like how Oscar will drink himself unconscious and Morris will react to things that aren't there. How they'll both have nightmares so bad they wake up screaming, and flinch viciously when she touches them unexpectedly, and treat food like it's precious. And there's plenty things she will let go, has let go, but she couldn't stomach this being one of them.

So she'd learned that that hadn't been the first time Morris had done something like that to himself. Not by any stretch. She'd learned that the boys' mother had had the same habit, hurting herself — trying to kill herself, with relative frequency until the day she'd succeeded.

She'd silently understood to herself that that must've been where Morris picked it up, and Oscar had confirmed that to her when they'd continued talking later, once Morris had fallen asleep.

"Reckon Mo got it all from her," he'd said, quiet. A vulnerability in his voice that she wasn't used to hearing. "The crazy, too. Y'know, how he—he sees shit that ain't there, hears voices, sometimes. An' he's. I dunno. He's jus' always felt everything like it's turned up to a hundred. He'll hurt himself over anything."

That sentence in particular, out of everything Oscar had said — plying himself steadily with whiskey, getting looser and looser with it all as the night crawled on — had stuck in her mind like a thorn. And though Morris had told her, very quietly, the next morning, that he wasn't her responsibility to fix, she'd wanted to try.

She's been trying all this time with Oscar. Coaxing him into better communication, discouraging his drinking and constant overworking himself, helping him make a consistent schedule rather than just working as many hours as he can and then losing hours at the gym. She's been making them all eat meals together — she makes lunch for Morris, Oscar cooks dinner for all of them — and she makes them all talk. Makes Oscar talk rather than shout and throw himself around and break things. She's been helping him, like a friend does, and wants to help Morris too. Has been trying.

But Morris makes her nervous in such a different way than Oscar does.

There's a familiarity to her caution about Oscar, something she can liken to how her father always made her feel. The looming threat of an angry man, a defensive fear for herself. But Morris would never hurt her — all her nervous energy about him is for him, someone she knows he holds no qualms about hurting. And she's been trying, been researching Bipolar and BPD and autism and self-harm and anything she feels could help him, been printing things out and getting him workbooks, helping him with better coping mechanisms. Helping him ask for help when he's thinking about hurting himself, and most times she's managed to nip it in the bud. She's smashed ice cubes in the bathtub with him, and watched him draw up his scarred arms and thighs with red marker, ripped up sheets of newspaper and ran him a hot bath and bitten lemons and peppers and ginger roots. A thousand different coping strategies, alternatives to what she knows he really wants to do.

She's sat down with him and told him, so sincerely, that he doesn't need to be punished with pain and injury for perceived slights or wrongdoings anymore — he doesn't have to abuse himself in his parents' stead.

And she'd perhaps gotten too comfortable believing it was working.

Because Morris has locked himself in the bathroom again, and she's nervous.

She's been loitering in the hallway since the first moment she noticed he was in there, stuck between pacing and standing stock still, listening carefully to any sound he might make — because it sure doesn't sound like he's using the bathroom, nor is the water running for a shower or moving in the bathtub. It's just silent, eerie, and her heart is pounding in her chest. What if he's limp on the floor again? Oscar is out. What if she can't save him?

What if he's already gone?

That thought's the one that spurs her to knock. A gentle rap of her knuckles against the splintered wood of the door, fixed to the best of Oscar's abilities after he'd smashed it through. They'd had to go and buy a new lock for Oscar to install.

"Morris?" she says, carefully measured.

She hears him inhale. Sharp and shaky. "Y. Yeah?"

Well, he's not dead.

"Are you alright?"

She tries not to sound too anxious. Tries not to sound like she thinks he isn't. Because she'd seen how he and Oscar interacted in the wake of that emergency room visit, how Oscar had hovered and Morris had exploded near every day, begging Oscar to fuck off. She doesn't want to make him angry.

Doesn't want to give him a reason.

But, if the way he sniffles is any indication, he'd already found one.

"'M'fine," he tries to say, but it comes out feeble and wet. Guilty.

"Oh, Morris," Katherine breathes.

She hears a shuffle from inside, and then the lock clicks. She gives it a moment, and then pushes it open.

Morris is crying.

She sees his hoodie — one stolen from Oscar — abandoned over the edge of the bath, and he's in just a t-shirt, arms bare and bleeding. The sink is a mess of it, deep red, and it's all over the floor too — an amount that makes her nauseous even though it's nothing compared to what she'd seen before. What Oscar has described to her since. A package of Oscar's razor blades is torn open, scattered in the sink basin, and she realises suddenly that he's still holding one, clutched between his thumb and index finger.

Steeling herself, she holds her hand out, palm up.

"'M'sorry," Morris sobs.

He drops the blade into her palm, and she takes it, swallowing the instintual disgust at interacting with something so sharp, dangerous. She doesn't understand how Morris stomachs this, let alone struggles to stop, but clearly he does.

"It's okay," she tells him. She tries to offer him a smile, despite it all. "It's—Recovery isn't linear. It’s normal that you need more time."

As she collects the rest of the blades, half anxious that Morris will sneak them to keep, Morris sits down heavy on the edge of the bath, beside his — Oscar's — hoodie.

"Don't feel normal," he says, tears dripping down his cheeks. An emptiness in his eyes. Katherine's chest aches.

"It's only natural," she says. "After everything."

Morris sniffs, and doesn't say anything more. She lets the silence sit. Leaves the mess, for now, and retrieves the first aid kit from the shelf by the medicine cabinet instead. The most thorough thing in the entire flat, between Morris' coping mechanisms and both boys' proclivity for violence, stocked to the brim with alcohol wipes and bandages and sterile dressings and needles and suture thread.

"I'll bandage you up," she says quietly. "And Oscar can have a look, when he gets home from work. To see if you need stitches."

Morris nods, still wordlesss. She thinks perhaps he's gone again, in that way he goes sometimes — dissociation — but he dissolves into sobs as she cleans his arm. Sinks into it, head down, curls in his face, and that's when he starts to go.

She lets him, can't imagine what other comfort she can offer.

"It'll be okay," is all she manages, spoken quietly as she wraps bandages around the fresh cuts on Morris' already brutally scarred wrist. She swallows down another wave of nausea. "It'll get better, Morris, I promise. It won't be this hard forever."

The silence aches. She thinks about Morris' mother.

"Just…just please stay and see."

[jolieblack]

Jolie's thoughts on

The Solitary Cyclist (Sherlock & Co. podcast)

Let me start this time with the details I loved about this generally very lovable show:

The unlucky condom (John, you so walked into that one, sorry) and then the unlucky condom making its surprise reappearance. Genius.

Dr and Mrs Holmes should definitely consider life insurance if you ask me.

The high fiving MY HEART (Check out this very sweet art by @under-loch-n-key)

Sherlock keeping his bedroom pristine but the lounge in total disarray, thank you, YES

John and the Valentines 😆

John and his rental bike 😆

John and his Netflix board 😆

I also love how John contributed to solving the case again, and this time with medical expertise, too. I love when John gets to be Doctor Watson in this show. I feel it happens way more frequently than in any other adaption I know. (And if maybe not all the medical stuff is objectively correct, I honestly don’t care as long as it sounds plausible). And then he gets to do BAMF battlefield medicine as well! No wonder Sherlock is absolutely smitten highly impressed. (And I love that he voices that, too.)

I have seen complaints about Violet's lack of agency. She's centre stage, this case is all about her, but it’s not just men (one in particular) controlling and exploiting her, it’s also men (two teams of two, basically) who look out for her and ultimately rescue her. Indeed, she bears little resemblance to ACD‘s original character, who is incredibly tough and brave given the extreme vulnerability of her situation. ACD‘s original Violet absolutely deserves our admiration. This one… not so much. I‘m torn though - is that a bad thing? Is 2024 media under any obligation to show us only particularly strong female characters who take their fate into their own hands? I would have liked this case to end on a very decisive note along the lines of, Violet finally finds the courage to stand up to the arsehole, divorces him immediately and never falls victim to a similar dynamic again. It is unsatisfying that the last thing we hear from her is crying over the arsehole at the showdown. Instead, I would have loved some kind of reassurance that she‘s not going to forgive him and take him back. But is this episode a bad episode for not giving us the perfect ending? If you've ever had any insight into RL domestic violence issues and especially into coercive control and financial abuse, unfortunately the happy ending is not the norm, and escaping those patterns (like addiction) can be a long or even life-long journey full of relapses. So I find it honest and realistic, rather than a storytelling failure, that we get an open ending. Brilliant investigators can solve your case but they can’t always fix your life. In the words of Mariana the Wise, some people do need a therapist more than a detective.

[fbfh]

living with the fosters hcs

wc: 800

pairing: moms!stef and lena + siblings!adams foster kids (brandon, callie, jesus, mariana, and jude) + (gn) adams foster!reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, found family, comfort, brief mention of various drama from the show (breakdowns, trafficking, suicidal tendancies, relapses, general bad decisions) (again it's incredibly brief like one bullet point for all of that), stef and lena are amazing moms, optional masc/male and fem/female hcs, I think that's it

a/n: falling down a fosters rabbit hole again!!!! adopt me pls!!!!! also brandon needs all of his siblings to gang up on him once in a while. he's the worst and callie is a close second. also if you don't know why you were tagged in this it's bc it falls under the domestic life/found family trope lol

@yesv01 @youkissedareaderinthedark @girlfriendwhoseawitch @mrscarolscaramoucheplease

Wailing screaming sobbing

First of all

Stef and Lena are the ultimate parents

You never had a good mom?? Now you fucking have two

You have a whole passel of siblings in a warm cozy house full of love

If you share a room with Callie and Mariana 

Get ready for some peak sister core moments

Mariana will frequently get second opinions on what color combos you think she should do for her next mani pedi 

Callie will act like she doesn’t want to talk about anything then ten minutes later she’s telling all about her current boy problems 

Helping Mariana do the back of her hair and doing Callie’s eyeliner for her because she insists she can’t do it as well as you have become as much a part of your morning routine as brushing your teeth

If you share a room with Jesus and Jude

It’s boy core healthy masculinity core all the way

Just guys being dudes

(or in Jude’s case, guys being Judes)

Jesus will constantly interrupt your attempts to do homework to ramble about his latest hyperfixation

Which is usually skateboarding or wrestling or 5 hour long youtube documentaries 

Jude is (affectionately) a little easier to get along with

Most of the time he only interrupts your homework for help with his 

Or to ask for help with a hard part of the level he’s stuck on in his video games

He puts stickers on his DS sometimes and loves getting your opinions on which ones should go where 

Brandon is super busy trying to get into music school and everything

But he makes sure to catch up with you at least a couple times a week 

Usually when it’s yalls turn to clean up after dinner

You’re both pretty busy, but you still make an effort to stay up to date on what’s going on with both of you

He tells you about all the drama in the music scene 

Even though he has to explain half the jargon and terminology to make his stories make sense

You tell him about the drama in your friend group at school 

Mariana and Callie will frequently ask you to settle arguments

And Mariana and Jesus 

And Mariana and Brandon 

Mariana just has a lot of hot takes

Stef and Lena work so hard to make this house a home

And they do

Everytime you come home from work or school or anywhere else

You’re always greeted with two warm hugs and kisses on the forehead form Stef and Lena

“Hi, love,” 

“How did everything go, sweetheart?” 

It’s not just small talk, they really do care about how things are going for you

They love you so much

They always keep your favorite cereal in the pantry 

They show up to as many of your events and extracurriculars as they can 

They’ll help you keep track of any meds or medical appointments 

They might even break their no coffee for the kids rule for you

It’ll take a little convincing but you know them well enough to know what cards to play 

They’re just so supportive too

Like you can wake them up in the middle of the night just cause you had a bad dream

They’ll hug you and ask if you want to talk about it and offer to make you tea

They really do have your back 100% of the time

And like

They’re so accepting 

Any problems you’re having 

Anything that’s causing you stress

You can talk to either of them 

Or both of them

Whenever you want

Even if you’re just feeling off

If you just need a little attention

Your mom and mama are there for you

They check up on you a lot too

Not too much, just checking in to see how homework’s going

If you’re hungry

How you’re feeling 

Anytime something scary happens 

Anytime there’s an argument or some other drama

Mariana’s ex boyfriend has a mental break down, Callie voluntarily enters a trafficking ring, Sophia tries to walk into traffic, Brandon spends his juilliard money on an apartment for his single mom girlfriend and her kid, Mike relapses

You know

The usual

Whenever there’s drama, Stef and Lena always make sure to check on you

They always take extra time to talk you through what happened or whatever crisis is going on

Make sure you know that they’re right here if you need them

And their hugs are the best too

They’re so warm and supportive

Literally and figuratively

Honestly you couldn’t ask for better moms 

They have your back through everything

Every injustice, every rough patch, every failure and low and problem

And every win and success and happy exciting joyful moment

They’re there for you through all of it

And from the bottom of their hearts, they couldn’t be more proud of you

[a-personiftranslator]

varholt trauma ideas because i saw this

today and i think blorbostate number 2 is the one who will be forgiven of all her crimes ❤️ andolont made her do it anyway >:( /hj and also she has pretty privilege

i think it would be really funny if andolont actually knew fuck all about how to fight and it was just varholt carrying her the whole time (in reality she’s competent varholt’s just better and also andolont’s always been kind of a coward when she isn’t heavily drunk so she’d use her sister as a human shield)

in actual things that are not me acting like a simp on the mezfllok varholt is. so heavily repressed. the facial expressions she will allow herself to have range from very happy to mildly displeased. i assume her government talks about that reputation the way the japanese government talks about the world war 2 crimes it drives kuft alum and most anyone else who was her victim and spends time in her presence insane. and they just have to go along with her narrative because she’s yk rich and they probably rely on her for food. and she is genuinely nicer now. so they keep it to themselves when they’re sober but nobody ever goes out drinking with varholt because old hurts WILL make themselves known.

nobody ever goes out drinking with varholt also because she is an alcoholic (substance abuse runs in the norgri family tbh) though unlike andolont she knows its an issue and is trying to quit. unsuccessfully because when she knows her facade is close to breaking she relapses, which usually ends up with her destroying her room and once she nearly stabbed her king. she didn’t even remember doing it because she was blacked out

(varholt is very violent when she’s more than tipsy though since her alcohol tolerance is so high it is also difficult to get her more than tipsy)

also she does miss andolont sometimes. she’d rather fall on a sword than admit it because at least falling on a sword is something she’s done before

she is prone to sleep paralysis. her sleep paralysis demon varies but tends to look like her sister and her father

she wasn’t treated badly at all under andolonsk rule since she was considered a slightly different kind of andolonsk, andolont just didn’t comprehend that she could have a differing opinion on anything as a result, which meant the only decisions varholt made were on the battlefield. one of the only ways you can tell varholt’s feeling particularly bad is when she hesitates on simple questions, like she’s waiting for someone to respond for her, and she’s pretty quiet to begin with (she only speaks when spoken to and when she really has something she needs to say) so good luck

she dresses surprisingly modestly (much to the chagrin of certain people on the mezfllok that uh. definitely do not include me. definitely) because she has some obvious skin allografts on her thighs and especially her stomach from her fields being burned down in the sumralandi independence war (stomach because that’s near the uterus and uh, fertility metaphor) and she does not like to be reminded of that

[roxycubestealsyouridentity]

Okay I'm making this point because I need to talk about this amazing scene in Dead End Paranormal Park that spoke to me in a way. It's been in my brain for too long! This might be a long post so quick heads up about what will be in it. This will contact spoilers for Dead End Paranormal Park season two but very minimal I promise and I'll keep a secret about anything lore relevant. This post will also be about systems and their Persecutors and a few others but not as really important. Quick note this blog is Endo neutral/syscorse unlined. Please do not bring syscorse onto my post or blog at all we can all be respectful to one another.

Now onto what I wanna talk about in the show Dead End Paranormal Park there is an episode I think about quite a lot because it reminds me a lot of myself. One of the main characters Pugsley had a dream about a firey circle and sees horrible things happening and believes it to be a premonition or a vision into the future due to the magic he inherited from another character. With that in mind the group of friends Norma and Barney along with two others go into a Faris Wheel which sends panic into Pugsley. During the ride the ride malfunctions and Pugsley uses his magic to stop the ride and move time back and forth. Being a loyal pup and wanting to protect his owners he travels back in time over and over again and again until eventually he gives up and the worst possible scenario happens. He gives up they call for help and there's nothing he thinks he can do. And this is where the system talk comes in.

Pugsley reminds me of myself. He reminds me of the fact I try so hard to protect my system and so hard to protect the people I care about. I try everything to protect the trauma holders, the hosts, and the littles. But as a Persecutor I tend to have heavy relapse in my judgement. I believe running away and isolating myself will help everyone. What Pugsley did was he tried to protect everyone on the ride and protect their feelings. People were arguing and getting hurt. He was so worried about their feelings that he didn't realize he was hurting everyone.

"I thought I could find the perfect scenario but each time something went haywire!"

"I had this dream, and then things started going wrong so I tried to fix it, but you also got your feelings hurt."

Quotes from Pugsley

Both quotes really resonated with me as I did exactly what Pugsley had done but in a more realistic way to our reality. I would play scenarios over and over in my head everyday hopping that what I was doing would make everything better. But eventually I'll give up and be hopeless giving into isolation or being completely unapproachable as a person believing that pushing everyone away was the answer.

"Pugsley I know you're trying to protect us, but what I wanna say to her is my truth. And that's not up to you when I do or don't say it."

"I just want everyone to be happy."

"But that's not life Pugsley! Do you need permission? Okay I give you permission to let me get hurt! Let my feelings get hurt!"

Quotes from Norma and Pugsley

This conversation really made me think of me and my co host who was also a truamaholder. She's been hurt so many times. She's been hurt by the horrors that she lives with that I'll never understand because I don't know of them and can't accept them. But I feel what she feels I see what happens to her. I don't understand that this is life for her and I want her to be happy. That's all I want for her. But she knows that's not a reality. She knows she has to get hurt sometimes even if it's devastating to her. But I struggle to understand and accept that reality which can lead to me making harsh judgements and bad decisions especially when I first formed. I was cold I was heartless and I had no care for anyone. Deep down I did care. I cared so much for my system but I pretended I didn't to toughen my system up and beat down people outside it to never have to be hurt again. And that brings me to my final quote.

"How will I know?"

"What?"

"How will I know everything's gonna be okay?"

"... You won't."

Quotes from Norma and Pugsley

This last quote is what hit me the hardest. It was the realization that truely. You won't know. That's the hard reality I had to live with. I won't know everything's gonna be okay. For all I know everything will go horribly. But that's life. I have to let people get hurt. I can't sit there and run away and play ideas over and over in my head that might never even happen because if I do. Truely it won't ever be okay. Because I would have destroyed that chance. Running away and isolating ruined my chances for situations to be okay. Because I genuinely thought it was going to be. And that conversation between Norma and Pugsley just really reminded me of my Co host. She knows there is always a chance things will go wrong and she's seen it over and over again. And while it was my job to try and fix that as a flawed protector, my effort was seen by her once she realized what I was doing.

And that's the thing. Please do see the effort your Persecutors put to protecting you. Yes it may be flawed and yes you have to have them take accountability but trying to beat them down won't do anything but hurt them. Even I was beat down as a persecutor because no one knew I was doing what I had to do. I was scared to see the reality of this world and scared to see my system mates be hurt but it's okay to be hurt. It's okay to be plagued by your horrors and it's okay to scared of it. To persecutors it's okay. It's okay to get hurt. Maybe you need to keep up pretending it's not okay for your survive but just know there is a future where that is not the case. There is a future where you can heal. There is a future for that perfect scenario. Because even the show showed it too. After Pugsley decided to go back into the timeline one last time and let it play out. Everyone was safe. No one was hurt physically. Everything was okay in the end aside from a few small things but that's life. As while he did wonder how that was any better than his perfect scenario he listened to Norma. And it got the job done still.

I never would have expected this show to impact me so much but I'm glad it did and I never would have thought I'd relate to a small magical Pug as much as I am right now. I hope this post was as comprehensive as possible sometimes I can not make sense for the life of me lol. If I miss any tags while putting this in here let me know I will be adding Dead End tags to this just because well this post revolves heavily on it. Also if you liked this post or are also a Persecutor to it please go check out this blog I personally really like:

@persecutorlifeandsupport

It's a persecutor run blog for Persecutors and they have given very good advice and even made me feel better on some occasions. Thank you for reading until the end I hope you have a very enjoyable day

[supernaturalfreewill]

My love, I'm very sorry. I can very painfully understand. It's been months now and I'm still crushed every time I think of her.

I suddenly lost my baby girl Mocha on July 22 last year. She was only 4 and the love of my life. I was at work and missed many calls from my mom and she eventually reached me through calling the hospital I work at and getting transferred to the OR I was working in. Our girl, who was her normal cheery self the night before, hadn't wanted to eat when she woke up that morning so my mom had looked at her gums and they were nearly white. She rushed her to our vet and her red blood cell levels were at 13 when they should have been high 30s into 40s.

Apparently border collies can have underlying hemolytic anemia that gets triggered around the age of 4. Her red blood cells there dying faster than her body could make them. We got her blood transfusions and it barely touched her red cell count. We had gotten her to 18 and the vets had us take her home for the night around 3 am, hoping that resting at home would take the tiny bump and start generating red cells again then we would come back and check in the morning around 11.

When we woke up in the morning, she was breathing heavy and more lethargic so we took her in. It was only 7 am. In those 4 hours, her count when back down to 11 this time. At this point she had already had two transfusions and the vets said they could do another but there was no guarentee of positive outcomes.

We were transferred to our vet research center that had specialists for internal medicine and they presented us with only one other option. There is apparently a treatment that requires a machine that would essentially take out all of her blood to destroy the antigens before replacing it. It would have been a minimum 2 week treatment and baseline 30,000 dollars with a very slim likelihood of actual improvement. And if it were successful, there was still a significant chance of relapse. Essentially, if we did the treatment, she would likely still die and she would have spent the rest of her life away from us, alone in a cage, hooked up to tubes and wires. I couldn't do that to her.

She was so tired and even when she had no energy she still moved to lay on me and comfort me when I was crying because I couldn't save her. We eventually decided we had to let her go because we couldn't keep putting her through pain just so we could have a little more time.

I'm crying writing this because it's so unfair. I'm so sorry you lost Aldo. He was so incredibly lucky to have someone as amazing as you as his mom. I'm so sorry you had to go through something so awful and lose your friend. I know it's been some months, but don't ever feel bad about missing him. You deserve to miss such an important part of your life. And anyone who says otherwise doesn't understand the love and bond we can form with animals. ❤ I highly recommend getting a stuffy that looks like him to cuddle at night or getting blankets with some of your favorite pictures of him printed on it. Those are some of the things I had to do to bring myself some comfort and it's nice to have something to hold on the nights I miss her. ❤❤❤

Yeah okay, sobbing here. Our babies went close together. I lost Aldo on July 24th. You did the best thing for your baby girl and I'm so sorry you lost her so soon too and had to go through that and make such a hard decision. <3 We never get enough time with our beloved pets, so losing them young is extra hard. I actually am getting a pup soon from the same breeder I got Aldo from. Momma lab, who happens to look a lot like Aldo, is expecting in 4 days so fingers crossed there will be enough pups for me to bring a new friend home soon. One thing that has really helped, was getting a pendant that I put some of Aldo's ashes in. Getting back to hiking was hard because I was used to having Kuma and Aldo along as my adventuring buddies. At least this way I can still carry him with me. We sign up for the heart break every time with a beloved pet because they just unfairly don't live as long as us, but it's worth it for all the love we get.

[lunaxstella]

College???

I've been asked multiple times why I decided to leave Bachelor in Multimedia Arts despite being in it for almost three years. And every time it's brought up, I smile and say random things to hopefully end the conversation. Why? Because I don't really know how to explain it. I'm not sure how I can tell someone that I was suffering from things that no one can see and only I can feel. And there's actually more to it than just being tired of fighting my own mind.

Everything started on the day I was on my way to enroll in senior high school. My parents decided to drop me off at a jeepney stop since it was on their way to work anyway. I remember clearly that my mom asked me what strand I decided to sign up for. At that time, I was planning on taking a psychology program after high school, so I told her I'd be taking HUMSS. Then, she proceeded to ask me if I was sure of it and if I didn't consider choosing STEM instead. But I told her that HUMSS is a much better fit for my preferred program in college. She did not push me to choose STEM, but what bugged me was the tinge of sadness in her voice as she said her words of support. One of my weaknesses is my mom's sadness and I can't bear hearing it. So, when I got to the university to sign the papers needed, I put my name under the STEM strand. I remember standing there for a hot minute and weighed the pros and cons of my sudden decision. I justified it by telling myself that my favorite subjects are science and mathematics anyway and that I'm afraid of public speaking so choosing HUMSS would be a difficult road to take. I also tried to assure myself that psychology is a branch of science, so taking STEM is not that bad—it was.

I almost did not make it out alive, literally. Along with the problems with my peers, I constantly questioned the subjects within the strand and how they relate to the program I want to take in college. It's not helping that the curriculum was too focused on engineering. A lot of my classmates who wanted to take medical programs were also having the same questions as I did. But I did it. I graduated regardless of having to transfer schools and constantly falling into relapse. I even made it to the honors list. I had my research awarded as the best research among our batch despite having to present my defense twice since my first attempt ended in me having a full-blown panic attack.

And then came the college enrollment. Due to the circumstances beforehand, I did not go through my original plan of applying to my dream university—the University of the Philippines Baguio. In fact, I was hesitant to even continue my studies. Don't get me wrong, I love studying. But I was too exhausted from battling my mental dilemma. Back then, my parents were still glued to the idea of how time is of the essence. They were asking me about my college plans which at the time, my plans were nonexistent. They asked me what programs I was considering. I told them I still wanted to take psychology. But my mom was overly against it, and we would constantly have arguments. It was a back and forth of what jobs would it get me and how I could take it as a second degree instead, etc. I'm not sure if I explained to her then that I didn't want to take Psychology for the fun of it and that I wanted to be a doctor. I think I did. Nevertheless, she wouldn't hear me out. So then, I told her about the other programs I thought of which was Multimedia Arts and Information Technology. She printed out a list of schools that offered the former but all of them were either finished with their enrollment period or the tuition fee was too expensive. I also looked for those that were offering IT, but some were not really that good in terms of their curriculum and the others were of the same reason with MMA.

That's where Architecture came in. In 12th grade, I briefly worked in a construction company for my Immersion subject. The owners are a family friend of ours and they taught us the ins and outs of the industry. Not going to lie, it was a delight. I loved the technicalities within the job and for some time, I saw myself actually pursuing the field. But I did not really fall in love with it, I just love the idea. I still prefer helping people overcome unseen illnesses and understanding more about the human mind. However, it was the only program I at least found tolerable that was mostly available in state universities.

I took an exam with one university; I did not try to apply for more. I just wanted it to be over. I want them to get off my back. Fortunately, I got in. During the interview process, the dean told me that the program was nearly full and filled with applicants and the chances of me getting accepted was low. She asked me what I had that will make me stand out among the others. I don't recall my answer to that, I just remember trying my best to stay alive for that time being. I think I answered along the lines of having a background within the field and all that. Then she started browsing my credentials and exam results, and she asked more questions like am I capable of handling pressure, etc. I half-heartedly answered all of that. In the back of my mind, I was hoping that I wouldn't get accepted so I could be sent to the psychology program since it was my second choice in the form. At the same time, I was trying hard to answer well to be accepted and please my mom. Can you imagine how much I wanted to die in that moment?

After the interview process, a drawing assessment was also required. While doing so, I did not know what to pray for. I want my mom to be happy, but I also want the program I want. God must've been confused about how to answer her feeble daughter. Hence, I took my sweet time to finish that drawing. My perfectionist ass won't let me get up anyway. I was also thinking of just ditching the whole interview, but then where would I live if my mom throws me out? The stress was too much. Even as I'm writing this and trying to remember the events of that day, it is stressing me out. Like how did I not jump off a bridge or something?

Anyway, long story short, I got accepted anyway. My hopes and dreams of pursuing psychology were crushed that day. I'm still curious as to how I made it home alive.

You know the sad part? I did not even last for a semester. I was gone after the midterms. I was too depressed to go back. I locked myself in my room. I had a hard time speaking with anyone. When my mom asked me why I stopped going to school, I simply told her that I didn't like the course. That short sentence even took me a great deal of strength to say. It wasn't even true. I do like the course. Like I said earlier, I like the technicalities. Even if it wasn't as fascinating as psychology, I still find it interesting. My classmates were fun to be with. I had no problem with the facility. My problem was more of a personal one which included the stressors in my life, imposter syndrome, and apparently, I have ADHD and OCD—that I would not be aware of until two years later.

At that time, I didn't know that I was suffering from those. I was only sure of having depression and anxiety as the physical symptoms were obvious. It was a constant battle in my brain. Every day was a bloodbath in my whole system. I wake up, I dress up, I walk to the jeepney stop, I watch people struggle to get on jeeps while I just stand there watching them because I fear that I might get a full-blown panic attack with that much crowd. I remember one of my friends being in awe while she watched me nonchalantly watching commuters fight for their lives to get on. Look, I was mentally exhausted. I was not risking being an anxious mess and bothering all these people trying to make a living. Plus, I had a long-ass T-square with me that I was afraid of getting broken in half from all the pushing. I usually ride habals or book Angkas when I feel like it's taking too long for the crowd to lessen.

Every drafting work was taking a life off me. Every mistake was killing me. I can still see the look my professor gave me while we were doing an activity in freehand drawing. I felt the judgment and amusement as he silently watched the way I drew. It made me feel small and insecure. My mind started planting doubts in my stupid brain. I started comparing myself with my peers. Suddenly, I didn't want to be there. I wanted to hide. Do I really have what it takes to be one of the best architects out there? What if I design a building poorly and people would be in danger because of me? Was I doing too much? Was I not doing enough? I didn't think I should be there at all even if my friends from that program told me otherwise.

Fortunately, like a blessing in disguise, the pandemic started when I left. Nothing changed; I still refused to leave my room, and I had a hard time speaking. The only time my family would see me is when I had to pee or poo. And yes, I did not eat. It helped that I wasn’t expected to run errands since we weren’t allowed to go out anyway. However, my parents didn’t think that what I was experiencing was serious. I remember being pulled from my bed; mind you it was a bunk bed, and I was at the top bunk. I resisted; I didn’t care if I got bruises. I didn’t want to see anyone; I didn’t want to speak. All that came out of my mouth was, “Ayaw ko. Ayaw ko,” while crying from frustration and despair. I think that’s when it hit them. After that, they didn’t force me to go out anymore. I also broke up with my ex of two years since he’s one of the stressors that made me hurt myself from time to time. That’s when I gradually started getting better. Saying that I was relieved is an understatement. It felt like I was exorcised.

Fast forward to about a year and a half later, I got a bit better. I gradually began to speak and be my old self. However, it never felt right. It always felt like I was floating. It was like I wasn’t there. But I wanted to get better. I wanted to continue my studies. I didn't want to be stuck crying and praying I was dead every single day. So, despite what I felt, I tried my best to look into programs and colleges that I could enroll in. My mom became more lenient with my choices this time around, but she was still skeptical about the whole psychology thing. I got in on the same train eventually. That’s why I decided to take Multimedia Arts instead.

I wanted to be able to do everything—design, illustrate, animate, photograph, produce music and films, direct movies, write screenplays, and publish my own books. I forgot to consider my initial dilemma with my first take on arts. Back then, I wasn’t that much aware of how intense imposter syndrome has on me. I only assumed that I have a very low self-esteem. I was doing well at first, but eventually, it took a toll on me. Hence, my parents decided to let me see a psychiatrist. I have multiple diagnoses, but I was mostly treated for my depression and anxiety. I was also monitored by the school’s guidance counselors.

I tried.

I really tried.

I’m still trying.

I decided to transfer school, again. This time, I hope to finally take my dream program. Rather than staying in my hometown, I decided to go back to my original plan—to study in Baguio City. But God has other plans. While I did get to study here in Baguio, I wasn’t accepted in psychology. I was devastated, but also, I was too numb to feel anything. I wanted to defend myself while the dean told me I couldn’t be accepted due to my poor standing with my previous program. I wanted to tell her that my illnesses are not limitations, rather it gives me the capability to understand and empathize with people more. But I didn’t. She had a point—it was a board program, and my recent standing reflects my wobbly mental state. I was stunned.

Nevertheless, it didn’t stop me from wanting to continue my studies. She told me I should find a plan B. So, now, I’m studying Music. I really keep coming back to arts no matter what, do I? Anyway, while I was there, I heard their choir singing. It reminded me of the joy I had back in my high school years. Upon looking at the courses they offered, I noticed nothing really grabbed my attention. Thus, I am here.

I won’t be telling you my plans for the future. I just wanted to relay how I got here. And if a first-year student would be reading this, I just want to tell you:

Your journey is your journey. Not one is the same. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Never compare yourself. It’ll be hard, but it’s going to be alright. Just do your best. If you think your best is not enough, then think again. Most importantly, don’t forget to ask for help. You’ll need it here.

[sepublic]

The Art Gallery and Mega Maze Car!

           …Goddammit Kez. I really don’t know what I expected, but of course MORGAN wants you dead as well…!

           Also, I called it- Morgan is the castle! Anyhow, RIP to the judge, I really liked her design and was glad she survived the zapper… But then Pig Toddler got interested in the word butter (clever writing for these two unlike things to come together like that), and I knew it was all over! Damn he was terrifying and hilarious, breaching the rubble like a freaking Mosasaur to devour the judge, alas! So much for a peaceful resolution… Also, seems only Pig Toddler and the Bouncer are left. What was up with the Bouncer at the end there? I dunno, but I’m glad the person with an actual family to feed has a new job now; Guarding Morgan might make ends meet and help them reconcile with Kez, or at least decide NOT to kill her…

           Seriously though, that gag with the Bouncer catching them at the end after you forget, only for THAT joke- This show is so funny you guys.

           But, let’s backtrack for a bit… Okay, that Hand Monster was TERRIFYING, and I was lowkey afraid it would join up with the posse after Kez, but thankfully not! But JEEZ, the shadowy hands, the sound design like it’s from the Grudge… And the DESIGN, it’s so visceral and grabby and uncomfortable, like it’s grasping onto and constricting and strangling you, it’s violating, and I LOVE IT! It’s SUCH a metal character design, whoever came up with it, I wanna shake your hand, and maybe even kiss you! I’ll have to plagiarize- I mean, TAKE INSPIRATION FROM, this type of superb peak character design later down the line!

           But seriously, with how it’s made of hands, and one of them has a number on it… Does this denizen like; KILL passengers, and add to its mass with their numbered hands; The higher the number, the better? I’d suggest it aggravates passengers, but Min and Ryan seemed to agree that it didn’t ACTUALLY influence them, this was just all them going out… That, or it enabled them to say what was on their minds the entire time! Oof, that thing gave me heebie-jeebies, but also…

           THIS is a character-heavy dump, let’s go into it! It seems Min and Ryan are afraid of being the other… But they also want to BE the other as well! And Min, he’s got abandonment issues, which makes sense- He’s clearly a more anxious and reserved person and an only child… But Ryan doesn’t think people will miss him because he feels like he’s always overlooked, that he has to earn attention! He doesn’t think Min cares that much about him, and vice-versa… Oof, love that trope, the tragedy of such misunderstanding because of insecurity and self-loathing, thinking you’re not good enough! And damn, Min really broke at the end there, thinking Ryan had abandoned him…

           I do wish Kez had cleared up that the Art Gallery Car would NOT let Ryan back inside and even silenced him, but like. It still opens how he feels in general, and it led to some honest discussion in the Mega Maze Car, so it’s fine… Love you Kez, you adorable weirdo just screaming and weirding out even this hand-monster! I love how she’s SUCH a shameless freeloader, but she also serves to lighten the mood, and she’s something Ryan and Min can BOTH agree upon! She’s the glue that holds the trio together, I love and adore Kez…

           But back to Ryan and Min! Like I suspected, being in a large family, Ryan feels ignored and undervalued, just another face in the crowd, so he wants to be somebody… And Min, he didn’t want to go off and abandon things, he felt Ryan wasn’t taking him into enough consideration; But maybe he also hoped that Ryan would see that Min wasn’t ready, and then stay for him? And then it broke his heart when he went on anyway… And Ryan, he thinks Min is looking down on him, and in a sense it’s like… They WANT to be one another in some ways, but are also afraid of that? Ryan wants to be more level-headed, Min more bold, but not to the extent that it becomes negative, because they can see the good AND bad in each other’s traits!

           Min is kind of jealous of Ryan’s boldness and more fun life… And it’s like, these two can’t progress until they learn to respect one another’s decisions and places in life more, to recognize their own decisions, etc.? To not look down on each other, to think they have to guide the other and look after them… Hence Ryan saying initially that Min is just ‘dead weight’ to him, because he still wants to be his own person and individual and live his own life, so maybe he doesn’t need Min anyway?

           And Min, he’s amazed at how Ryan can be so bold and be himself, but Min, like he said- He’s tired of faking things, pretending he’s fine when he’s not, that he’s okay with this… And he gets an outlet to admit how he feels aloud, instead of trying to be calm and level-headed about it! Min’s just having this identity crisis, figuring out who he is… Ryan probably thinks he’s secretly dumb, Min’s belittling didn’t help, as did Ryan admitting he could never get into university. Ryan doesn’t feel respected, and it’s just AMAZING how… How each has a trait that can easily be both the best and worst of them at the same time! It’s SUCH good writing… Min feels left behind from taking things too slowly, and Ryan keeps moving forward so he can stand out; One wants companionship from being alone, the other wants to be an individual and recognized!

           Min thinks that Ryan complicates things, that HE’s the one making them difficult, and Ryan feels like he’s being dragged down and discouraged, that he has to pull Min along, because he DOES care and wants him; And they think they’re the others’ caretaker. Ryan wants HELP, he wants support, and he feels like he gives it to Min, but Min doesn’t reciprocate and instead just tells him his ideas are dumb. And it’s this duality of Min wanting conformity and safety, belonging, while Ryan is sick of that and wants adventure, risk, individuality and to stand out after being overlooked, to be free and not weighed down! It’s fascinating, they’re like mirrors of one another, if one were a denizen I’m SURE Mace would get a kick out of this…!

           Overall, this was a really weighty pair of episodes. It helped us get into the meat and confrontation of their emotions, of their issues; The darkest parts, their low point. But they say after the low point comes the triumphant rise, hopefully… If Min and Ryan are about two coming together and becoming whole again, it could contrast with Amelia, who is missing her other half; Let’s hope it does! I’ve never seen passengers constantly go back and forth, relapsing, tugging on the progress on opposite ends- Really conveys the frustration of two people whose numbers are together, bound, like a three-legged race.

           And, well, we’re on it- The final pair of episodes! And possibly our last episodes yet, EVER… This might be the last time I see a new Infinity Train episode. Here’s to the final destination, guys… Our journey might be over, maybe not. There’s more to the journey than just the destination, but eventually you always get there; All things, inevitably, come to an end.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

The 5 Times Luther Thinks He’s in Love With You (and the one time he actually does something about it)

A/N: I’ve never written for Luther before but I am full on simping for this man. I know he’s kinda hated in the fandom so we’ll see if this fares better then my Diego piece. No, I still haven’t finished season 2 yet. If I were to spend as much time watching TUA as I did reading and writing fan fiction about it, I would’ve finished weeks ago. This might be super out of character for Luther so hopefully this doesn’t suck. It also ended up being way longer then I had intended and is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written. I think it starts out mediocre and ends strong so there’s that. 

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: takes place post-season 2 but my own version again, Ben came back to life again because I said so, my trauma, canon childhood abuse, trauma, and reference to drugs, swearing, 

word count: 6,438

i. the time you treat his siblings like your own

The first time Luther thinks he might be in love with you is the day Klaus gets out of rehab...again. Over the last year, the Hargreeves clan has worked hard to get Klaus clean and sober, and Ben coming back to life was a big push for Klaus to get help. Unfortunately, it’s been more downs than it had been ups. As a survivor of childhood abuse yourself, you had told Luther it would take time for the mental scars their father left behind to heal and Klaus was no exception. Still, Luther had thought the process would go a little bit smoother than it had, and it killed him to watch his brother relapse again and again, and the toll it took on Diego and Ben every time he did. However, they thought this time might be different. Klaus had made a lot of progress during this last stint in rehab, progress he hadn’t made before. You coming into the Hargreeves family and becoming a rock to the siblings had brought a lot unexpected comfort to Klaus, that someone outside the family cared for him and his well-being. It had been a push he needed, and you really believed he’d stay clean this time.

Diego and Ben had volunteered to pick the seance up from rehab, with the other siblings arriving at your apartment to create some sort of semblance of a ‘welcome home’ party. You had volunteered to watch Klaus the next few weeks, knowing the Academy was no place for him to be. How could he stay sober living on the streets or at the home of all his abuse? And seeing as you didn’t drink, there was no alcohol for Klaus to even access if he wanted to. Luther had been adamant you didn’t need to go out of your way to make a space for Klaus but you had over ruled him with the support of Ben and Diego and the decision was made whether Luther liked it or not. 

Over the course of the last year or so, you had sort of tumbled into his life, crashing straight into Luther one morning as he was leaving Griddy’s. It had snowed the night before, and the street was icy, and the next thing he knew, someone had walked straight into his large frame and was tumbling towards the ground. Luther reached out, large hands wrapping around your much smaller frame, and hoisting you back up before you could hit the ground. He awkwardly cleared his throat and put you back down on the ground. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, overwhelmed by the fact that he had stupidly almost sent the pretty girl crash-landing to the ground. 

“It was my fault, really. Shoulda been looking were I was going.” You said. Fate, however had other plans, when Ben came along the road. You turned to greet him, and his eyes drifted from you to Luther. He stopped next to you and a shit-eating smirk grew on his face. “Well, (Y/N), it looks like you’ve met my brother Luther. Luther, this is my co-worker (Y/N).” Luther had a moment of realization, understanding he had knocked into Ben’s favorite co-worker at the bookstore/cafe he talked so much about. Ben invited Luther back inside to Griddy’s as the two of you got breakfast before your shift and Luther agreed, not having a much better plan. Allison was in Manhattan with Vanya, Klaus was doing a stint in rehab, Diego was working at the gym, and Five was off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. The breakfast was quite enjoyable, Luther observing your comfortable energy and your kind nature. You had offered your number to Luther before parting with Ben, in case “he ever needed a friend”. It wasn’t long after that, that the family had had a tumble towards rock-bottom as Klaus got out of rehab, immediately seeking the nearest drug he could get his hands on. Ben had asked you to come over and the support you offered the family through your experiences with an alcoholic mother and comfort had irrevocably changed your position and meaning to the family and to Luther. While Luther had always felt you were closest to him, the closest thing he had to a best friend, he couldn’t unsee the way you joked with Klaus, the support you offered Diego, the witty banter you’d exchange with Five, the conversations you’d have with Allison, the encouragement you offered Vanya, and the normalcy you brought Ben. He always thought that you liked them a little bit better, but every time, you were able to read that he was too far into his self-doubt, and assured him that he was and would always be your best friend. 

This time was no different. As Klaus returned to the apartment and was practically glued to your side, he felt that small piece of him rile up again, making him want to shrink to the background. As the night wore on, he felt himself retreat further and further behind the walls in which he had put up. He had hoped to get a moment alone with you, which didn’t seem promising. But luck was on his side, and an opportunity arose, which came in the form of a Mario-Kart tournament. You excused yourself and Luther from the first few rounds, asking for his help with the dishes. He felt confused, as you always stated doing the dishes helped you focus and relax. You turned the water on, beginning to wash dishes and handing them to him to dry. He did so, in silence for a few minutes, but not a bad one. “You know that Klaus staying doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?” you said quietly, as to not let the Hargreeves overhear your discussion of one of his biggest insecurities. He nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” he said in a gruff voice, looking out over the city from your window, avoiding looking at you. 

“Luther.” You said sternly and he chanced a glance at you. “You know I love your family like my own siblings and you know I would do anything for them.” He felt his stomach beginning to sink as he waited for the other shoe to drop that would never come. “But, you, you’re my best friend in the entire world. Nobody’ll ever come close.” You said, nudging his shoulder and turning back to the dishes. He looked down at you, and looked at the way your face was lit up by the light of the moon, and he looked back up the moon to where he spent so many years in isolation, hoping one day he’d get to meet someone like you. He was starting to think that he didn’t want to be just best friends anymore... and that thought scared him almost more than anything. 

ii. the time he can’t imagine his life without you

The thought that does scare him more than anything is the thought of losing you. It’s never been a thought he’s allowed to stay in his mind long; shuddering away from the thought of losing you to the cold clutches of death, the way he lost Ben, the way he had thought he lost Five. Unfortunately, he is forced to confront the thought one night. Diego shows up the Academy, clutching you in his arms, cuts and bruises littering your frame. Luther is the only home at the time, everyone else either gone, living their lives or in the case of Five, at Griddy’s. Diego sets you down in a chair and with the exception of the minor physical harm and the fact that you can’t seem to stop shaking, you seem to be alright. “I’ll explain in a minute. Where’s Mom?” Diego asks quietly. This seems to snap Luther out of his state of shock, that if Diego thought your injuries might be bad enough to have Mom look over them, he needs to present and here. 

“Diego, I told you-” you winced, a movement neither Hargreeves boy missed, “I’m fine.” 

“Even still, Mom should check you out anyways. I think she’s upstairs. Do you want me to go get her?” Luther said softly. Diego shook his head. 

“Nah, I’ll go grab her. You stay with (Y/N).” Luther nodded and took a tentative seat next to you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms and quell all your fear and make you forget all this pain and-

“Oh, (Y/N), darling.” Mom’s soft voice reaches his ears. She checked you over, determining that all the injuries you sustained were minor and would heal within the next few days. 

“See, Diego. I told you I was fine.” You snapped, as Mom put a kettle on the stove to make tea for the three of you. 

“What even happened, (Y/N/N)?” Luther asked softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, almost missing the way you leaned into his touch. Diego sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise. 

“I was wondering the same thing myself.” He grumbled. 

“It was just some creepy guy. I was fine.” The tension in the room is so thick one Diego’s knives could cut through it as the implications of what your sentence meant settled. A endless train of possibilities of what ifs fly through Luther’s brain that he almost misses what happens next. 

“Fine?!” Diego asks incredulous. “Fine?! (Y/N), he had a knife-”

“I had it handled!” You said indignantly. 

“You could have been killed!” Diego shouts, and the silence that follows is undeniably terrifying for all three of you. You looked to Luther, who must’ve looked like a fish out of water, gaping at you, struggling to come to terms with what Diego had just said. 

“I might not be a superhero, but I can take care of myself.” You said, voice soft now, not making eye contact with either boy. Luther looks at Diego, who is clearly ready to make another argument and Luther finds the fear growing inside of him at an alarming rate. Luther stands up abruptly, his chair toppling over behind him.

“(Y/N), you could have died.” Luther says, now growing concerned regarding your apparent lack of concern for your well-being. The fear and panic spreading through his body seems ice-cold and the thought that Diego could have brought your lifeless corpse back to the Academy instead is rooting him to his now standing position. You look up at him. 

“Okay, well I didn’t. I’m fine and here to live another day. Nothing worse then any thing you guys have done, and besides-”

“(Y/N), I could have lost you!” Luther yells, surprising all three of you. You look up at him. “After losing Ben, after losing Five, after everything that’s happened-” Luther goes quiet, choking on words he isn’t sure he means. I’m in love with you. I can’t do this without you. “I can’t lose you too.” His voice is soft and you look away from him, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry, okay? My co-worker called out, I didn’t think anything would happen. I've walked home a million times after closing, it’s never been an issue. I thought I had the situation under control.” You refuse to make eye contact with either boy, glaring a hole into the table. The silence remains for a while longer and Diego eventually excuses himself, saying you’ll finish the discussion in the morning. Mom put your tea down on the table, and you startle, seemingly forgetting the AI was still there. She leaves you and Luther alone in the kitchen with a gentle smile. Your hands are still trembling as your hands wrap around the cup, and Luther almost takes one of them in his own, but decides against it.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He says, softly. You look over at him, if for only a moment. He needs to start sorting of these thoughts of love he has towards you, but for right now, he’s just glad you’re still with him. 

iii. the time Diego teases him

A month or so passes between that night and the next time Luther is forced to confront his foreign feelings for you. It’s early one morning and the eldest Hargreeves boys are sitting in a comfortable silence as Grace walks around the kitchen making breakfast. Diego is the first to break the silence. “So, Luther,” he begins, a shit-eating smirk upon his face, not unlike the one Ben wore the day you and Luther met. Luther stiffens, concerned about whatever is about to come out of his brother’s mouth. As good as their relationship has been since Texas, Luther can’t help but feel like there will always be a sort of unspoken tension between the two of them that will never truly go away, residual feelings of competition leftover from their childhood. “When are you going to tell her?” Luther stares at Diego, utterly confused about what the boy might be asking. 

“Tell who what?” Luther asks, which in response, prompts Diego to roll his eyes. 

“Don’t play dumb. I see how you look at her. When are you going to tell her?” Diego says, smirking. “C’mon, you can tell me. This is a safe space.” 

“Tell who- Allison?” Luther blurts the name out, the only girl he can think of that Diego might be referring too. Diego startles at the name-drop of their sister. 

“What- no, not Allison!” Diego splutters. “Jeez, you really have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?” Luther shakes his head. “I’m talking about (Y/N).” Luther relaxes at the sound of your name and sinks back into his chair, but he’s still concerned about what Diego thinks he needs to tell you.

“What am I supposed to be telling her?” Luther asks to which Diego shoots him a look. Luther finally understands, at least, he thinks he does. “I’m not telling her about my... condition.” Luther says, the word feeling weird on his tongue. It’s an open secret the family never speaks about, sensing Luther’s insecurities. 

“That’s not- she doesn’t know?!” Diego asks, incredulously. 

“Not unless one of you told her.” Luther says, anger growing in him at the thought of one of his siblings going behind his back and telling you, his closest friend, his deepest secret and biggest insecurity. He doesn’t need you to look at him the way his siblings do, with pity. 

“Luther- Luther you have to tell her.” Diego says, his voice firm. “She has a right to know.” Luther casts a dark look at his younger brother. 

“Right to know what? Right to know how Dad mutilated my body?! Right to know that no one will ever love me because of it?!” Luther asks, the anger (and fear) seeping into his tone. Diego sits back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the blond boy. The quiet in the kitchen settles as Grace put the plates down in front of them but unlike before, this one isn’t comfortable. It’s awkward  and there’s strong emotion radiating off of the two boys. 

“Thanks, Mom.” Diego says quietly, but Luther doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice. “I was actually going to ask when you were going to tell the poor girl you’re in love with her.” Diego says, beginning to cut up the pancake on his plate. Luther startles and his eyes widen, looking back up from his food to face Diego. 

“I don’t-” Now it’s Luthers turn to splutter through his words, struggling to form a cohesive sentence. 

“You do, Luther, you sooo do.” Diego responds, the shit-eating grin returning to his face. Luther just stares at Diego. “I see the way you look at her. The way you drop everything to be near her, the stupid little smile you get whenever someone talks about her or she comes over, I see it.” Luther shrugs, feeling like he’s wading through concrete, trying to form a sentence in response to Diego’s too accurate statement. 

“She’s our best friend.” Luther says, shrugging with a fake nonchalant attitude. The word friend feels foreign ion his tongue and wishes he could use something else that would more accurately describe his feelings for you. 

“Sure, but I’d be concerned if Ben started looking at her the way you do.” Luther stares at Diego, the confusion returning. “Your face lights up whenever you see her.” Luther remains dumbfounded and quiet, sensing Diego had a point he wanted to get to. “I’m not the only one who thinks it either. We all see it. Sure, she’s our best friend and like a sister to us, but you, you’re in love with the girl.” Diego must take Luther’s silence as a reason to continue, because Diego puts his fork down and looks at Luther seriously. “I only bring all of this up because- well, if you don’t tell her soon, she won’t- won't stick around forever.” 

At Diego’s words, it feels as if someone has dropped a rock in Luther’s stomach and he thinks he might be sick. The thought of you leaving- “She’s a patient person, but she’s not going to wait forever for you to figure out your feelings. So if you are in love with her, and I know that you are, you need to tell her- tell her everything.” Diego stresses the last word and Luther gathers that he means his condition as well. Luther wants to shove his plate away, walk away from Diego, and lay in his bed for the rest of the day, pretending that he hadn’t been forced to confront these feelings he isn’t ready to have for you. 

Instead he mumbles out a “She’ll hate me.” Diego sighs. 

“She won't hate you. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way but you’d have to ask Vanya or Ben for that answer, Lord knows she confides in them more than me.” Luther looks back up at Diego. “Besides, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t hate you.” 

“But it will change things.” 

“Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

“Not in this family.” Luther mutters as Five makes an appearance, the blue light startling Diego. The conversation gets left there but Luther can’t help but mull over Diego’s words, wondering if he’s right. 

iiii. the time you have a fight 

You and Luther’s friendship has been struggling, he knows it just as well as you do. Ever since his conversation with Diego, Luther has been pulling into himself, retreating further and further away from you. He’s not being a good friend, he knows that, and you deserve better, and he knows that too. Still, he can’t help but feel like the only way he’ll get over his feelings is by not being around, positive he won’t ever tell you that he thinks he might be in love with you. He knows there’s no way you're in love with him too. He’s ended up at your apartment tonight, returning a book Five had borrowed. Why he couldn’t return it himself, he wasn’t sure but Five had told he owed him one after “saving��his sorry ass through two apocalypses”. Now that he was here though, he thinks it was just a ploy to get him here. Even still, when you invite him in, he can’t bring himself to say no to you. The pair of you stand in the kitchen in total quiet, the distance between the too of you feeling much more like a gaping chasm than the four feet. “What did I do?” You ask, arms folded across your chest, almost like your protecting yourself from him. Luther looks up at you. “Did I do something wrong?” A pause. “Why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” He says quickly, clearly too fast for your liking. You sigh and let your arms drop, turning away from him to put the hot water from the kettle into the two mugs in front of you. 

“You do Luther. I can see it. You don’t come over anymore, you hardly speak to me when I’m around, I did something and now you’re mad at me.” Luther remains silent, something that seems to be occurring more and more lately. “If you hate me, if you want to end our friendship, that’s fine. I’ll let you go, but at least have the decency to tell me why.” Your voice trembles on the last word and Luther is kicking himself as he struggled to find words to assure that it’s not you, it’s him. However, his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and his mind is blank. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth, he’d lose you for sure, but it looks like he’s losing you anyway. You must take his silence as reason to keep pushing. “If this is about- your condition-” your voice drops on those two words and Luther stands up abruptly. 

“How do you know about that?!” He seethes. You glance up at him from where you’re staring intently at the tea steeping below you on the counter, but only briefly. 

“Allison told me. Months ago.” You responded, voice quiet. He’s in the process of figuring out all the different colorful things he’s going to say to Allison upon his return at the Academy, when you speak again. “Why didn’t you tell me Luther? I’m your best friend.” There’s that word again. Friend. The word has caused so much stress, frustration, and confusion in his life and now he’s going to lose you over it too. 

“You’d hate me.” You look up at him. 

“I could never ha-” He interrupts you, the panic and fear and anger sliding down his spine. 

“Or worse, you’d look at me like everybody else does, with pity in their eyes.” He spits the words out with so much venom, he surprises himself. It clearly surprises you as well. 

“Is that what you really think?” You finally dare to make eye contact with him for the first time the whole night and your voice is cold. He shrugs, not knowing what to say. “After all this time, after everything, that’s all you think of me?” Luther is, once again, at a loss of words and he feels the panic crawling up his throat that if he doesn’t say something soon, it’s not going to be pretty. You take his silence as apparent confirmation because the words you utter next is ones he never wanted to hear. 

“Get out.”

-

He throws the front door of the Academy open and spots Vanya coming down the stairs. They make eye contact and she shrinks back, feeling the anger radiating off of him. A pang goes through his chest, remembering the last time he felt this angry. “Where’s Allison?” He asks and Vanya nods her head towards the kitchen. He heads there and he can feel Vanya following behind him. His siblings are sitting around, clearly laughing at some sort joke Klaus has just finished telling. The room falls silent as they look over to a glowering Luther and Vanya who is shrinking behind him in the doorway. Luther’s eyes settle on Allison, who is conveniently, the furthest away from him. “What gives you the right to tell her about what Dad did?” His voice is low and and it’s Diego who understands first. 

“Oh, shit.” Diego mutters. He glances over at Ben, who looks at Klaus, who looks to Vanya. 

“Maybe we should...” Klaus says, as Diego and Ben move to stand up. 

“Sit down.” Luther says, and the three resume their position as Vanya moves behind them. Allison is looking at the table, avoiding looking at him. Five’s head swings between Luther and the rest of the siblings. 

“Did I miss something?” He asks, finally settling on Vanya and Diego. Diego shrugs. 

“Unless, you’ve been missing the heart eyes Luther makes every time (Y/N) comes around, you’re as up to speed as the rest of us.” Five snorts. Luther lets Diego’s comment slide because the only thing he can feel is the sheer betrayal he feels at Allison’s actions. Before Five can formulate a response, Luther finds himself talking. 

“What the hell, Allison!?” The girl finally makes eye contact with him. “After everything you and I have been through, what gives you the right to tell her that?! You knew, better than anyone, how I felt about that.” Allison sighs and looks away from him. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought she already knew, I promise. I wouldn’t intentionally tell her that if I hadn’t thought she already knew.” Luther softens, but only a little. 

“So I didn’t get a choice in the matter?! To tell the girl that I love-” His voice stops on the word, realizing what he’s just said out loud. Five’s eyes narrow and Klaus raises his eyebrows. No one else seems to be phased though, leading him to believe there’s been one too many conversations about him behind his back. Figures they’d leave Klaus and his big mouth and Five’s smart mouth out of it. 

“Like I said, I thought she knew. Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I didn’t get a chance! You got to her months before I could!” Luther exclaims, getting defensive once again. He’d rather not think about the consequences of his words just yet. 

“Wait, hold on. She’s known this for months?” Ben intervenes. Allison nods. 

“Four.” She confirmed. 

“Four months and she didn’t say anything?” Ben asks, chuckling to himself a little bit. 

“This isn’t funny.” Luther deadpans, now staring down Ben.

“It is, just a little.” Ben said, his laughter growing. It seems to click for Vanya, who joins in on Ben’s laughter. “Why’d you never tell her Luther?” He asks, still struggling to hold in his chuckles.

“I- I didn't want her to hate me, or- or think of me differently.” Luther said quietly. 

“Well that answers that then.” Vanya says. The siblings all look over to her and she shrinks back from the sudden attention. “Well, I’m just saying, if she’s known for four months, and she hasn’t said anything, and nothing’s changed, I’d say the answer’s pretty obvious.” It’s Klaus who understands next and his smirk grows. 

“In fact, one might say, to know for four months and to not say anything means there’s something more.” He says, using the voice he must’ve used when he was preaching or whatever the hell he did with his cult in the 60′s. 

“Where you going with this Klaus?” Diego asks. Its Allison who joins in next, a grin growing on her face.  

“Well aside from our brother’s new confession of undying love for the poor girl, she must feel the same to know for four months and never say anything.” 

“To let nothing change in hopes that one day you’d feel the same way for her.” Five finishes, realization dawning on his face.  

“Well, it doesn’t matter because she’s never gonna speak to me again.” Luther says, and turns from his siblings, heading back up to his room. So, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. So what, if it just means losing you? He’d go through a million apocalypses, swallow his feelings for you a hundred times, if it meant you’d still be in his life.  

v. the time you drop everything to be there for him

It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to Luther. Klaus and Ben keep telling him he should talk to you, to fix things, but if you can go this long without talking to him, he knows that you’re better off. You don’t need him in your life messing things up and making it harder for you. Unfortunately, late one night, fate makes the decision for him. It’s storming out and Luther hates the sounds of thunder. His heart is racing as he lays in his too small bed, arms clutching his comforter. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out the images in his brain as he searches for sleep again. His nightmare keeps replaying over in his mind, the image of you and his siblings lifeless on the ground. There was so much blood. He knows it’s just a nightmare, it has to be, but fear is crawling up his throat and he thinks he might be sick. What if that was real? What if it was some suppressed memory, and everyone he’s ever cared about is just- gone? His eyes fly open as he fumbles for his phone. He still isn't really sure how to use it but he knows well enough to call you. Pleasepickuppleasepickuppleasepicku-

“H-hello?” The voice on the other line sounds groggy and somehow through his sheer panic, he feels a pang of guilt for waking you up. His mind is racing and he still can't breathe but he can't deny the relief he feels hearing your sleepy voice. “Luther? You there?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” He stutters. 

“Is everything okay? It’s 3 in the morning.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can’t help the way his voice shakes, clearly giving away the reality. “I just... just needed to hear your voice, s’all.” His heart is slowing down the longer you’re on the phone with him. 

“Do you want me to come over?” As much as he wants to say yes, he shakes his head, forgetting you can’t see him. He clears his throat.

“No- no, I’ll be okay. Just a nightmare.” 

“I’m coming over. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He can hear rustling in the background, visualizing you pulling your shoes on and grabbing your keys. 

“You- you don’t have to do that.” He says, even though he wants nothing more than to pull you close to him and maybe fall asleep with you in his arms. 

“Just stay on the phone with me okay Luther? I’ll be there in ten.” 

-

It’s actually 7 minutes before you’re opening the door to the Academy and rushing in. Luther’s sitting on the stairs waiting for you. He had to get out of his room but he didn’t want to go too far, not wanting to miss your arrival. The light in the foyer is on and you slowly walk towards where he’s seated. You crouch down, so that you can make eye contact with the man. He looks up at you and he realizes how much he misses you, how much he yearns to be around you. “You okay?” You ask softly. He shakes his head, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. “What can I do for you?” He shrugs, still not wanting to voice how much he just wants to hold you in his arms. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make tea.” He follows you wordlessly. He sits in silence as he watches you fill the kettle and put it on the burner. You come around behind him and reach down, sliding your arms around his neck. It takes him a minute to realize you’re hugging him around his larger frame. He takes your hand and squeezes it. All too soon, the kettle starts whistling and he reluctantly lets you go. You put the hot water into two mugs and put the teabags in, letting it steep as you set the mugs down in front of the two of you. 

“Thank you.” He says, quietly. You nod.

“Of course.” You say as you take the seat next to him. “I’m always gonna be here for you, even when I’m mad at you.” He looks over at you, thoughts being brought back to your fight, if you could even call it that. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. I was upset that you felt like you couldn’t trust me, but I know that’s something that-” You draw in a breath. “Something that takes a while to build.” 

“I do. I do trust you.” He says firmly. “I trust you more than I trust anyone else.” He says honestly. “I was just- just scared.” You scoot your chair closer to his until your knees are touching and you can lean your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Luther. I promise.” He looks down at you as the truth finally settles comfortably in his heart for the first time. He’s in love with his best friend and he’s okay with it. He thinks that just maybe- you feel the same way. 

+ the one time he actually does something about it.

Luther wakes up alone the next morning. Disappointment settles in his chest, hoping you’d still be there. He gets up however, and goes about his day.  He starts to worry though, as the day goes by, and he still hasn’t heard a word from you. He thinks that maybe last night had been out of pity, or some sort of obligation to his siblings. After dinner though, he gets a text from you, asking if he wants to come over. It doesn’t say what or why, but he misses you and he thinks he’s finally ready to tell you the truth, no matter what you might say in return. In fact, for the first time in a while, he’s starting to let himself hope, a feeling that’s a bit too foreign to him. He hopes you feel the same way about him. That you’re in love with him too. He agrees, texting you that he’d be over soon. He clear his throat, standing up from the table, and put his plate in the sink, ignoring the questioning look Five shoots him. He walks to your apartment, a dopey smile on his face. He makes it to your building and he lets himself in, watching how you turn to face him from the hallway. You give him a soft smile.

“Sorry about leaving this morning without saying anything. My co-worker called out so I had to cover their opening shift and I didn’t want to wake you because you looked really peaceful so...” You trail off, a light blush forming on your cheeks. He shook his head. 

“It’s okay.” He says. The two of you stand there, just looking at each other. You startle finally. 

“OH! I was wondering if you wanted to make these cookies with me? My Dad was finally able to get his hands on some of my Grandma’s recipes and I wanted to try one out?” He nods, smiling at the excitement lighting up your face. Your grandma had passed when you were little and it had been a struggle to get the family recipes, your family getting left out of a lot of the division of property. You had once told him that you were really only connected with her through baking. He always told you she’d be proud of you and your baking. You’d always blush and look away. He nodded, remembering he was going to need to use his words if he was going to hope to have the nerves to tell you that he was in love with you. 

“Sure.” He says, moving to your kitchen. You follow him and pull the recipe up on your container as you both pull the ingredients out of their designated areas. The two of you spend so much time together that he knows his way around the kitchen like it’s the one at the Academy and the two of have baking together down to a science. You turn to music on, having made a playlist specifically for the dance parties that would happen while you’d wait for your pastry or dessert to cook. As the cookies bake in the oven, he watches with a smile as you dance around the kitchen, using the wooden spoon as a microphone. He isn’t planning it but- 

“I’m in love with you.” Your eyes widen as you slowly come to a stop. The music still playing in the background feels unnatural given what was just said and you must agree because you slowly reach over to the computer, pausing it. You reach back and look at him, eyes still wide in what he thinks is shock. He’s starting to panic now, as you just stand there, mouth open. “It- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” God dammit, this is why he didn’t hope for things anymore. Damn his siblings for letting him think you might feel the same way. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I understand. I just wanted you to know.” He says, quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He turns to leave, feeling defeated. Fate is a cruel temptress, he’s officially decided. 

“Luther- Luther wait.” You say, arm shooting out to grab his. You pull him back around to face you and he turns to see you unusually close to him. “Sorry, sorry, I panicked and froze.” You’re tumbling through your words, trying to spit them out, hardly breathing between them. He grows concerned at your state and he thinks you’re still worried about him feeling bad. 

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s fine-” You cut him off.

“No, no it’s not.” His heart sinks, but only for a minute because suddenly you’re talking again. “I’m in love with you too Luther. I have been for a while. I just never thought you’d feel the same way and I-” Your words stop as you look up to see you two are quite close together and all he wants to do is lean down and- 

“Can I kiss you?” The words slip out before he can stop them but he’s not going to take them back. Not this time. You nod, and close the gap between the two of you. It’s short and sweet, just like you. The oven beeps, unfortunately, interrupting the moment. 

“Oh, shit.” You mumble. “I love you Luther, but if I burn these cookies, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles, loving how casually that word slips out of your mouth. He lets go of your waist, where his hands had been resting. You pull the cookies out of the oven and standing back from them, looking down at them proudly. He walks over to you and pulls you close to his chest and you sigh contentedly. “I could hold you like this forever.” He says, fingers running through your hair. You hum, wrapping your arms around him under his coat. 

“I wouldn't mind it if you did.” You respond softly. Luther looks down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He finally got the girl. 

[teaveetamer]

Also this is weirdly perfect timing because I just replayed an old indie darling, Always Sometimes Monsters, and tbh some of the ways that game preaches about choice and consequence line up pretty well with what annoys me about 3H fandom discussions about choice and consequence.

For those of you who weren’t around during 2014, or just don’t remember anything about a 7 year old game, the premise of the game involves the down on their luck Main Character trying to make it across country in 30 days to win back their ex... who is set to marry someone else. The main draw of the game isn’t the destination so much as the journey. Your character travels through several different towns, mostly scraping by on what little money you can earn along the way, and you have to constantly make decisions of varying degrees of morally questionable and it’s literally impossible to come out of it squeaky clean. I won’t spoil too much just in case anyone wants to go back and play it for themselves, because really it’s a great game (aside from it getting a little preachy at times).

But in the first town at the very start of the game there’s a plotline with your character, your character’s best friend (Darkeff. A semi-famous, recently sober musician), and your best friend’s ex-girlfriend (Viper, definitely not sober). It begins when Viper shows up to the club Darkeff is supposed to be playing at with a baggie of heroin. If you tell her to get lost, she leaves the heroin anyways. If you don’t pick it up and flush it down the toilet, Darkeff will get a hold of it and he will relapse and OD. Later, when the MC and Viper are hanging out in the hospital, you can call her out for bringing the drugs around Darkeff in the first place, and she will try to wash her hands of all guilt and insist that it’s not her fault he OD’d because she “didn’t force the needle into his arm.”

And it’s like... No you didn’t, but there are ways in which your choices affect and narrow other people’s choices.

While you didn’t force the needle into his arm, you brought the opportunity right up to his door step and laid it at his feet. At this point in the game Darkeff is very, very recently sober. He’s definitely been working on limiting his access to drugs because he knows if he has them in front of him then he won’t be able to resist (hence why he dumped Viper, it’s hard to stay sober when you’re around people who aren’t). By bringing drugs directly to him and waving them right under his nose you’ve effectively removed one of his strategies for keeping sober, which makes the decision to avoid doing the drugs infinitely harder for him. And we see that if she hadn’t done that then he wouldn’t have fallen off the wagon (because if you do dispose of the drugs before he sees them, then it’s Viper who ends up in the hospital after ODing).

And that is the thing that drives me crazy about how the Three Houses fandom treats choice and consequence. No one exists in a vacuum, and your decisions never only affect you. When you create the circumstance that drives people to bad things, you absolutely bear some responsibility for the outcome.

Now obviously that doesn’t quite map 1:1 onto Three Houses. I’d argue up to that point in the game Darkeff seemed to be doing everything right to stay sober, and addiction is one hell of a monster so I’d personally place more blame on Viper for bringing drugs around someone she knew was trying to stay sober than I would if she’d brought drugs around someone who had never tried them. The point is, it’s complicated and the way the 3H fandom talks about choice and consequence is so often not.

I do think Dimitri demonstrates this complexity well in his interactions with Fleche and the orphan kids in his Byleth support. He is both the result of circumstance that pushed him to do bad things, and the cause of circumstance that pushes others to do bad things. If he hadn’t killed Randolph then Rodrigue would probably still be alive, since Fleche wouldn’t have tried to kill Dimitri and forced Rodrigue to make the sacrifice. If Dimitri hadn’t killed those orphans’ bandit parents then they would have never tried to kill him in return. Was he justified in killing Randolph or the orphan parents? That’s up to you to decide (personally, I think he was, but that’s just me). At the same time though, he never would have killed Randolph if Edelgard hadn’t started a war and sent him to kill Dimitri, and he never would have killed those orphan’s parents if they hadn’t become bandits terrorizing innocents in the first place. And you can take that out as far as you like. For instance: why were they bandits? Would they have been bandits if the economy in Faerghus was better? If Lambert hadn’t been murdered and political turmoil hadn’t destabilized the whole place? But of course now we’re getting extremely hypothetical.

In real life there’s infinite threads leading to infinite causes and effects and the whole thing can get as messy as you like, but in fiction there’s only so many places those threads can go before we’re into baseless speculation. Unfortunately, a whole hell of a lot of those threads stop at Edelgard and a whole hell of a lot of people flat out refuse to acknowledge that, or they only want to acknowledge one half of that equation (I’m talking the “It’s okay for Edelgard to do bad things to other people because TWSITD/The Seven did bad things to her, but it’s not okay for Dimitri to do bad things because Edelgard did bad things to him” types of arguments).

At least to Always Sometimes Monsters credit, I do think you could argue that this is just Viper trying her best to assuage her guilt. If you don’t get rid of the heroin before Darkeff sees it, it counts as one of the “morally questionable acts” you’ll get called out on near the end of the game. Which implies that the MC should feel some responsibility for their choice to leave the heroin around despite Viper’s “no one forced the needle in his arm” speech. I don’t know if that was the dev’s intention--personally I don’t think it was, since this theme comes up in other places of the game--but you can absolutely make the case for it. I can’t really say the same for Three Houses, since it never really seems to want to explore Edelgard’s responsibility in the conflict.

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (12/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Warning: This chapter contains depictions of alcohol relapse and a panic attack. Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 6.2k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

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Chapter 12: Killian Jones, May 25th – June 22nd 2016

Killian finds a seat right next to his gate, anticipating the eventual announcement that his flight will be delayed. He leans forward, hoping his eyes are hidden enough so that no-one else can see his tears.

If only a delayed flight could be the worst he has to deal with. His apartment burning down and his landlord asking for a compensation from him. A broken limb. Losing another limb. Anything, as long as nothing happens to anyone he cares for, or who cares for him.

He left the luck with her – he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hadn't, but at the same time he's condemning everyone who's cared for him. Will and Tink, Shakespeare... Nemo.

His flight is delayed eventually, and Emma texts him about it. Killian tells her to go home and not to worry about him.

Her replying 'okay' seems bland, even for a text from Emma.

More tears fill his eyes as he thinks that they'll both have to get used to that. He has to stay away from her, now that he knows. Even if their relationship wasn't such long-distance, this... this... game of fate, or whatever it is, makes any relationship between them impossible. They can't keep stealing each other's luck, and knowing Emma, they can't keep chasing after the other to return the luck. They can't count kisses, and they can't keep risking each other's life stability.

At least, he's got the bad luck for good now. Anything that may happen may as well happen. Neither of them will have to deal with sudden change again. And Emma will never have to face any unfair hardship again.

He tries to comfort himself with the thought that he's the one who's been lucky the longest. Out of their nearly thirty-three years, twenty-two years plus seven months had been lucky for him, way more than half of the former. Emma, instead, had to deal with twenty-two and a half years of bad luck... though, no-one she ever cared for died?

She hasn't mentioned ever losing someone she loved – aside, of course, from never meeting loving parents in the first place until her foster mother adopted her – and, even though she's faced no fewer hardships than Killian has, it's a stark contrast to Killian's three big losses.

He raises his head, suddenly trying to think rationally. He snorts at his own thoughts. He's just witnessing a supernatural phenomenon he's never heard anything about before, and he's trying to apply logic to it.

But still, Emma has no few people she cares for – and he'd never wish any harm to them to balance his losses – and... and? What should he ask for?

He tries to remember; the best thing that happened to him was being adopted by Nemo, after five years of bad luck – the longest he's gone with it. Similarly, after spending her first eleven years unlucky, Emma received the best news of her life by being adopted.

His tears having dried, he's now pacing around the waiting lounge.

Emma, again, after eleven years of bad luck, received good news by being reunited with her foster mother and finding a good job.

His luck after four years... his breakup with Eloise going smoothly, and Gold going to prison.

He rubs his forehead. Breaking up with Eloise in the first place and staying sober were good things too, but they were his own choices, only aided by his good luck.

Emma... after five years of good luck, her adoptive mother was deported, Emma had her heart broken and went to prison. Then, for those few months that she was unlucky... her job wasn't paying well and it was tiring, and she couldn't spend holidays with loved ones. It sucked, but compared to losing someone...

The bigger they come, the harder they fall?

Killian sighs, feeling a bit of the weight being lifted. He was lucky only for a few months now, could it be that the worst thing that may happen to him is anything but someone dying? If he had to not talk to his family again, even if he went to prison himself for whatever reason, as long as they were safe and happy, he would take it.

And Emma will stay happy as well. She'll probably not win any big lottery, but at least she'll have a comfortable life, with the occasional smile from Lady Luck.

He can live with that.

Though what scares him now is the thought of leaving everyone. He'll be a magnet now, and he can't be a burden to his family, and he can't ever risk Emma knowing what their kisses do – it's enough that he knows.

He has to step back, and slowly disconnect from everyone, for their own sake.

Perhaps, if they stop caring about him too, his bad luck won't touch them, no matter how bad it gets.

How ironic, he thinks. Just as he'd found the chance to fall in love again, to move on from his pain and emptiness, he now has to let it go. Talk about bad luck.

It's a rough trip back to England, not only because of the delay, the disturbances, his ears ringing all throughout, or his complete inability to sleep despite feeling exhausted, but mostly because of this last revelation.

What would it take to persuade Nemo to cut off all connections with him? Nemo saw an expressionless, unruly teenager with a sullied criminal record and gave him love and a chance at a happy life. Killian's stomach turns at the thought of pressing the right buttons to make Nemo and Shakespeare both hate him, and it wouldn't be effective anyway. He'd only manage to break Nemo's heart and make him think Killian got back into drinking again...

Another feeling of sickness overwhelms him at that thought. Really, how many relapses could Nemo handle?

Killian sighs. He's accustomed enough to feelings of self-loathing to know this particular one will never fade.

He calls the flight attendant and asks for a glass of whiskey.

One glass is not enough to muddle his thoughts, but of course the plane is full and there is nothing the flight attendant can do for his dysfunctional seat screen, so it's mostly thinking he can fill his time with.

He thinks about Emma and the secret promise he gave her, that he'd never allow her to feel alone and miserable again. Can he really choose to leave her like this, after everything she's trusted him with? Can he count on the luck he left her with to bring her the happiness she deserves?

Would that luck cover the hole he'd tear open in her heart by leaving her?

He empties his plastic cup with the grim hope that he doesn't mean all that much to her, and that if he takes the ol' it's-not-you-it's-me route, it will help her move on faster.

He'll be just like the first man she loved, proving he was the wrong person to trust. At least he's given her the best he could. Maybe it will help her understand there's nothing wrong with her...

He apparently had some luck when he checked in, for at least he's got an aisle seat and the way to standing up is free. The bathroom is of course occupied, so he tries to wait for his tears to dry by walking along the aisle with his eyes down.

It's late evening when he reaches Heathrow Airport. He looks at the taxis outside arrivals and wonders if he's allowed to push his luck and hire one of them to drive him directly to his apartment in Brighton. He's still got the money from his compensation, he can use a few hundred pounds for a faster transport, but he doubts it's worth it.

And with his current decision, perhaps it's better to not have control of that money now.

He rents a hotel room that stinks of mold and has zero soundproofing to a couple absolutely killing it next door.

Next day at the train back home, he realizes how his bad luck is other people's problem too, unless the broken air conditioning and a thick scent of sweat and urine in the wagon is only noticed by him.

It's apparently better to cut off from everyone. Not even the random passerby deserves a walking jinx.

He stays sober for enough days to get Nemo to transfer the compensation money to an account on his own name, telling him a simple lie about having tax issues as 'told' to him by his lawyer and wanting to make sure the money stays intact until it's resolved.

And then he loses himself.

It only takes him a week to realize how unprepared he was for this. He'd thought it would be just like before, between Milah's death and meeting Eloise. Instead, this time he's weighed down by his guilt over willingly abandoning his family, betraying their trust in him and breaking their hearts... and his cowardice in letting Emma go. He fakes a bad connection and a broken phone camera to only have voice chats with her, and instead of trying to cut off alcohol, he's trying to cut off Emma from his life – or more like, himself from hers, but fails.

He doesn't know what he's waiting for. He doesn't even know what to expect from his life now. No-one depends on him, and with his rotten luck he can't look forward to anything good.

Eloise sends him a text, telling him she found a book of his she had forgotten to give him back, and it takes him a curbing of his self-loathing to not ask her to come to his place that night.

He wants to keep hating himself, he has to, he needs to ruin his life as much as possible until everyone stays away from him and all the trouble he'll bring over. And he has to convince Emma to keep away too, but can he stand cheating on her just to make her hate him, when he's the one who's unable to stop calling her?

She knows he's not well, he can't hide too much from her. But maybe choosing to keep secrets from her when he knows she's suspecting things about him already can be the thing that will finally open her eyes, make her understand how much better than him she deserves.

He skips work or comes late most days, but it's a dreadful day when he decides to actually appear for his shift on time.

He should have known. He should have quit the day he came back two weeks ago. He should have come the very first day drunk off his ass so that Shakespeare would grab him by the collar and throw him out, both as an employee and as a son.

Anything that would have prevented him from being the only one on duty the evening none other than Silver comes through the door.

Silver stops before even approaching Killian's desk. “I remember you,” he says. “Jones, isn't it?”

That side smirk Silver gives him sends a shiver down Killian's spine. He hides his left arm behind his back, though he's sure Silver has already seen his hook.

“How can I help you?” Killian says in an empty voice. His eyes go for the letter opener on the pencil case.

Silver walks closer and actually leans his hands on the desk. “I'd like to rent a boat.”

Killian feels his heart speed up and his stomach turn as he steps closer to the desk, spreading a few of their leaflets on it. With Killian's hand still resting on the desk, Silver starts to point at one of the leaflets and Killian jolts back with a gasp.

“Whoa, easy there,” Silver says. He starts moving around the desk.

Killian grabs the letter opener and points it at Silver. “Stay away from me,” he growls.

“Wait, wait-”

“Shut up! Get the hell out of here!” He feels tears in his eyes.

Silver snorts, shakes his head, then turns around. “What a waste,” he says bitterly before he exits.

Killian runs for the door, locks it and turns around the 'We're Open' sign, then runs to the bathroom and throws up. He kneels down on the cold tile, grabbing the toilet hard as he feels his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest, every breath grating on his throat and never feeling enough.

He's shaking, his head might as well be on fire, his heart is racing and he can barely breathe.

Far back in his mind, the still rational part of it wonders if he should call Nemo or for an ambulance.

He curls into a ball, unable to move further than that.

He hasn't seen Silver in nearly sixteen years, but his mere face brings Killian back to the worst years of his life; a time he's doomed himself to repeat now.

It's hours later and his bottle is nearly empty by the time he reaches his apartment, and both his hand and the lock on the door are shaking too hard for the key to go in.

Too tired and too drunk, he sits down next to his doormat, key still in hand, emptying the bottle and trying to put it down next to him. The bottle swerves and lands on its side. He looks at it, imagining it spinning around. How it all started...

“Killian? What's wrong?”

Bloody hell. Should he consider it bad luck, that someone cares for him when he doesn't want him to?

Killian looks up to see Nemo walk briskly down the hall towards him. Nemo sees the empty bottle, but his expression doesn't change as he kneels down to look at Killian. At least, that's what he thinks, he's still too intoxicated to say for sure.

“Are you alright? You closed early and didn't tell John anything,” Nemo says.

Killian just shrugs. The last thing he needs is having a recap of this day.

“Killian, are you alright?! Why are you outside?”

“I'm fine,” Killian says, voice much weaker than he expected. “I was drunk and my hand shook, and I couldn't open the door.”

Nemo's composure crumbles.

“Why? What happened, my boy? Why didn't you come to me?”

Killian closes his eyes. No matter how many times Nemo refers to him as 'his boy' or 'son', it always makes Killian's heart lighter and brighter. But he doesn't want it now, he doesn't deserve it now.

“Please,” Killian starts.

“Let's go home,” Nemo says and starts to put his arms under Killian's-

“No! Leave!”

Nemo pulls back a little, shock clear on his face.

“Leave. I don't want you here.”

“What happened? Why are you doing this?”

“I'm cursed. Please, leave me alone.” He only realizes how desperate instead of annoyed he sounded after the words are out.

“No, no, no, Killian...”

“I can't- you'll be hurt, please...”

Is he crying?

Oh God, he's crying. And Nemo is pulling at him, and he's leaning on him, crying against his shoulder.

“It's alright,” Nemo says, rubbing at Killian's back. “We'll figure it out.”

“You can't.”

“Come on, Killian.” Nemo starts lifting him, half-carrying him on his shoulder. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Let me take you home.”

Killian is too tired to even tell him no. Every move he doesn't stop Nemo from making makes him hate himself more and more.

Nemo takes him to his car, the gentle movement and familiar scent of it lulling Killian into sleep. He's half-awake when Nemo and Shakespeare both help him walk up the stairs to his old bedroom, but it feels too good to stop them, and he's just so tired of all the pain.

The next morning, it takes him a few long minutes to realize the previous night actually happened. He looks at the familiar walls of his bedroom, his drawings on the wall, the old desk and chair that he was sitting on when Nemo told him he'd be adopting him...

Perhaps it's all a dream that he's still clinging onto, not wanting to wake up hungover on his doorstep, with a kink in his neck from a bad sleeping posture.

Though he does feel hungover now.

There's a slight knock on the door, and a soft voice coming from the other side. “Killian? Are you awake?”

He looks at himself; they took off his shoes and pants and threw a sheet over him. “Yeah,” he says, attempting to sit up as his head spins.

Nemo enters just in time to see him squint from the nausea. “You feeling okay?”

“I think. If my head stopped spinning already...”

Nemo places a cup of tea on Killian's bedstand.

Killian looks at it, then back at Nemo. “You're not gonna shout at me?”

Nemo sits down on the desk chair. “I've just been worried about you. I guessed you had gone back to...” He pauses.

“To drinking. You can say it.”

“And I assumed something must have happened.”

Killian picks up the cup, and even the faint scent of the herbs makes him nauseous again.

“Leave it,” Nemo says, standing up, “I'll bring some painkillers and water.”

“I'm coming down. I need to stretch a bit.”

“I started fostering a girl a few days ago, so you'd better make yourself presentable,” he says casually and points at Killian's jeans, placed on a hanger over the closet door.

He already feels better after getting up and splashing some water on his face. He took off his brace before he went drinking, and he wonders if he should find a way to cover his arm for the sake of the kid. When did Nemo start fostering kids again?

He sees a slightly familiar blond head leaning over a chessboard on his way down the stairs.

“Alice?” he says.

The girl turns to him. “Mr. Jones? You live here?”

“Kind of.” Once again his mind is racing, and it's too early in a hungover for that. Why is she here? What happened to the detective? Her mother? “I'll be right back,” he says, heading for the kitchen.

Nemo is inside and immediately turns to him. “You know her?” he says, out of Alice's hearing.

“She's the daughter of the detective who solved Milah's case.” He swallows. “And mine.”

Nemo's face falls.

“What happened?!”

“He was shot. He's in a coma, but the social worker told me – in private – that the doctors don't know if he'll recover.”

The kitchen starts spinning around him and he needs to grab a chair to stay up.

“Killian?”

“It's my fault,” Killian whispers, managing to sit himself down on the chair.

“What is? Her father getting shot?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, Killian. You barely even knew him.”

“He helped me. He solved a case – two cases – that were plaguing me for years.”

“So? You weren't the one who hired him.”

Killian shakes his head. “You won't believe me.”

Nemo sits on the chair next to him, but turns to face him. “Try me.”

He looks at him. “What?”

“I'll listen to you, and try to understand.”

He did not expect this. He isn't supposed to get lucky with Nemo. If anything, everything regarding Nemo should've been the first thing that got in danger. Their relationship. His health. His life.

Taking a deep breath, he gulps down the glass of water Nemo put on the table for him. “I meant what I said last night, that I'm cursed.”

Nemo pauses, looking at him. “I remember you said that on your very first days here. Why are you convinced it's a curse?”

Killian wraps his hand over his blunted left wrist. “Do you promise you'll hear me out, before you jump to conclusions?”

“I promise.”

Killian closes his eyes. The sudden presence of someone to listen to everything that he's been thinking the past weeks is overwhelming, and he can't stop the words from flowing out.

“My first years of my life, I was very, very lucky. I won competitions, I got good grades, I had great friends, my family was happy and together. Then I went on a trip when I was eleven, and I was with some new friends, and we played spin the bottle, and I kissed only one girl, a blonde girl, whose name I didn't get to hear. Then everything came crumbling down. My mother died, my father left, and I always, always ended up in bad foster homes, and my brother was placed in a home three hours away from me. And a few years later, he died as well, and I was left alone. I was alone for years, until I went to a Halloween party when I was seventeen. I danced with a blonde girl my age, and we kissed. We didn't even speak much and once again, I didn't get her name.”

He looks at Nemo, who appears to be listening carefully, with one eyebrow raised.

“That was when my luck changed again. I got sent out of Silver's house, and I came here... and you cared for me and adopted me.” His voice is low.

“You think it was luck that I cared for you?”

“No, but it was luck that I was sent to a place that would care for me.”

“So, you think that, every time you kiss someone, a blonde woman in particular, you...”

“Not just any woman.” He swallows hard. “When I went with Milah in New York, on the night that she died, we had gone clubbing and... we got drunk, and I shared an impulsive kiss with a woman I didn't know.”

“A blonde whose name you never learned.”

He nods. “Until a few months ago. When I met Emma in that concert.”

Nemo's face scrunches in thought, as if he's only now remembering how she looks like, from the few pictures Killian has shown him. “You think it was her?”

“She actually admitted that her first kiss was in a game of spin the bottle, and we confirmed that the date was the very same that I had my own. Then she said that she went to a Halloween party in 2000 in London, dressed as a zombie princess, and she kissed a boy dressed as a pirate.”

“It was you two again?”

“I know, I know, it's crazy, but... somehow, it's true.”

“Was it Emma in New York too?”

“I haven't confirmed that, but- Nemo, every time we kissed, our luck swapped. She was very unlucky as a child, then after our first kiss luck followed her everywhere, then it changed again after the Halloween party, and... from what she told me, it was just after Milah died that things started going well for her again. Even- even in the bloody concert, I got stepped on and groped and even pick-pocketed, while Emma was in the front rows fully enjoying it. After it was over, we met and we shared a kiss. She took out her phone and it immediately slipped from her hand and the screen cracked. I know it's a small thing, but it's just an example, her life has been giving her hurdles all this time...”

“Until now? You think you're the unlucky one?”

Killian hangs his head. “I figured it out, after she talked about her first kisses. I- I couldn't leave her unlucky.”

“You kissed her before you left.”

“I've doomed you, I've doomed all of you. Even Rogers... he tried to do the right thing and now...”

“It's not your fault, son.”

Killian lets out a mirthless laugh. “I'm not supposed to be lucky enough for you to treat me nicely.”

“I make my own choices. I'm not some pawn in whatever game is going on.”

“So you believe me?” A small flicker of hope sparks inside him.

Nemo sighs. “I have to admit it's a lot. But it makes sense. And if you've been burdened with all that, it's no wonder you've...” He pauses again.

“Gone back to drinking. You can say it.”

“You were afraid something may happen to us?”

“It always does. Both times I got unlucky, people died.”

“Did people that Emma loved die?”

“No. Not as far as I know.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Well...” At first she didn't really have anyone to love, she never stayed anywhere long enough to develop such a connection. But then... “I have a theory, that the bad luck kind of... Time-wise, I was lucky the longest, so when I got the bad luck, it hit harder.”

“Like it's charging?”

“I'm not even sure about it.” He looks into Nemo's eyes. “I wouldn't bet your lives on it.”

“Killian...”

“I'll be a magnet for disaster, from now on. I can't stay connected with you.”

“Listen-”

“Please. This has cost me enough. I can't allow it to take more from me.”

“Listen to me. There's something to calling it a game of fate.”

Killian realizes he's wrapped his arms tight around his stomach. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his tight muscles.

“It doesn't sound like there's someone choosing to punish you, or her.”

“Then what?”

Nemo takes a deep breath. “I think that everything luck, good or bad, caused you or Emma has been in order to lead you into each other's path.”

Killian just looks at him, waiting for a further explanation.

“You were lucky when you won that trip to Boston, right? The trip that led you to meeting Emma. Maybe her bad luck led her there too, somehow. Then your bad luck led you to Silver's place, maybe that could have led you to your next meeting with Emma?”

Killian starts thinking out loud. “Silver didn't inspire any respect, so I snuck out all the time. He always took in problematic children, and it was one of them that told me we should sneak out and go to that party that I met Emma at.”

He looks back at Nemo, whose calm face starts reflecting the devastation on Killian's.

“You wouldn't have snuck into that party, if you were still with your mother and brother,” Nemo concludes.

“I lost them... because fate chose me to toy with?”

That bloody game is far more cruel than he imagined.

“And Milah...” he adds and shakes his head. “I- I wouldn't... fate wanted her out of the way...”

He bites his lip to stop the sob from breaking out. He didn't have feelings for Eloise, so she wasn't an obstacle to him choosing Emma. But Milah...

“It's so cruel. And unfair.”

“Am I, in any way, an obstacle in you meeting Emma again?” Nemo says, breaking him out of his dark thoughts.

“What?” Killian asks, confused.

“Going by this theory, something would happen to me or the others, only to bring you closer to Emma's path.”

“But... we've already met. And it's usually the lucky one who crosses over to meet the unlucky one, and if she comes here I'll have little excuse to not meet her.”

“So you'll just have to meet her again.”

Killian closes his eyes for a moment and drops his head. His relationship with Emma is already hard, what with five thousand kilometers between them. Counting kisses and calculating who's the lucky one each time would just be another hurdle.

“There's something else I'm thinking about,” Nemo says. “Does the detective mean a lot to you?”

“What- He was a good man- is, bloody hell...” He rubs his forehead, feeling disgusted at how big of a jinx he is for people he doesn't even know that well. “And he helped me, and I'll always be grateful, but he doesn't mean to me as much as you do.”

“Yet he still got hurt.” Nemo thinks for a moment. “If Alice hadn't ended up here, I wouldn't have thought it relevant, but... you were unlucky when Milah died, right?”

Killian sighs. His throat feels dry, but it's not water it's asking for.

“Nothing happened to any of us during that time.”

“Because I pushed you away.”

“We still cared for you. Maybe John acted a bit tough, but he still worried about you.”

“So?”

“So caring about you didn't hurt us last time. You not caring deeply for someone didn't protect them.”

“So you think... the detective being hurt is fate telling me that I have to meet Emma again?”

“I'm not sure how it connects.” He reaches over and takes Killian's hand in his. “But it's a lot. You've been dealing with all that on your own?”

“I was scared. I didn't want anything to happen to you.”

“We'll figure things out, son. You don't have to be alone, it won't do anyone any good.”

“There's a first time for everything.”

Nemo smiles a little. “Perhaps this is your first time unlucky to not lose someone you care for.”

Killian closes his eyes.

“I took a responsibility when I adopted you.”

“I'm a grown man.”

“The responsibility over a child is never gone. I'm not giving up on you.”

Killian can't hold back the sob in time. Words cannot express how much he wishes he could just stay here and let Nemo take care of him again.

“I need time,” Killian ends up saying. “Maybe see if there's some way I can help Rogers... what about Alice's mother?”

“She left when Alice was still a newborn. Her father has been raising her from the first moment. She has no other family.”

Killian sighs deeply. Is it Rogers who got jinxed, or Alice?

A good breakfast and a couple painkillers later, Killian joins Alice in a game of chess, trying to take his mind off and hoping it'll do the same for her. Naturally, she beats him, and they keep on playing, occasionally with Alice giving him tips, until it's time for lunch.

Nemo drives him to his apartment, only to help him clean up and pick up some things he'll need while staying at his place. Killian is grateful at Nemo not commenting on the empty bottles, only putting them in a garbage bag to throw away.

That same night, Killian lies in his old bed, going over that morning's discussion, thinking how running off right now to get a bottle would be his choice and not a push from fate.

For all the good things this house brought him, he knows its soundproofing is not the best, and his heart constricts in his chest when not too late in the night, he hears soft cries from the room next to his. The one Alice is sleeping in.

He doesn't sleep until the cries stop. He thinks how the hell the detective being hurt could be part of fate's plan to make his and Emma's paths cross again, but a deeper part of him resonates with Alice's struggle. He was just a year younger than her when his mother passed. The mother who loved him so much... who would be the one to stay. How long did he spend wishing it'd been his father who had died instead...

One week into Killian having moved back, Nemo gives in and arranges the full check-up for him and Shakespeare that Killian has been begging them to do all week long.

After it's done and the results come back relatively normal for their age, Killian now has to mute the small voice that's telling him that all it would take is an accident, especially now that he hasn't talked to Emma since the day Nemo dragged him back into his old home. Fate will strike, one way or another.

Maybe the way he lets Alice teach him more things about chess is a way to appease fate. He doesn't know how it feels for her, to spend so much time with someone who looks so much like her father, but she's always the one inviting him to play with her. Having gone back to his early bird schedule, he's usually the one to drive her to school, and she's an actual chatterbox.

He feels cold dread under his skin the very second he thinks how he's lucky to get to know her better.

Her father may never recover, and here he is already thinking he's some kind of substitute.

It's been exactly ten days since he came to live with his fathers, and when he comes back from driving Alice to school he finds Nemo sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensively at the cordless phone on it.

“Nemo?”

“Alice's social worker just called. Things aren't looking well for Rogers.”

“Is he...”

“No. But the social worker was informed by the hospital that his brain activity is not going well. They thought we might need to know, just in case.”

Killian feels as if someone kicked him in the spine. He sits down on the table too, his hand fidgeting on his lap.

If only there was a way to give some luck to the poor girl.

A simple kiss on the cheek wouldn't do; with luck on their side, both Emma and Killian exchanged platonic kisses with multiple people, but luck stayed with them.

He feels helpless.

That afternoon is one more of the very few times he's glad he can construct a cool exterior while his soul is shattering inside, and he acts casual while playing a few games with Alice. They all decide to not let her know yet. If it's gonna happen...

His guilt starts overwhelming him after dinner, and when everyone else is occupied, he sneaks out of the house and finds resort in a pub.

He only realizes how late it is when he looks outside and realizes it's gone completely dark. He picks up his sorry self and decides to go back to his miserable apartment. He managed to send Nemo a text, so at least he'll be disappointed – as he should – and not worried.

On the ride home, he once again realizes how pointless it was to sneak off like that for a drink. His thoughts are still stuck on his fear and guilt, both for Rogers and Emma. He hasn't spoken to her at all, and at some point he'll have to. He can't break her heart, at least not completely. But starting the process of breaking up with her means that he will break up with her, and his cowardice lately was all about how unprepared he is for that, how he wishes things were different.

But it's time to come clean. In that way, at least.

His head down, he unlocks the main entrance of his apartment block and starts going for the stairs. There's someone sitting on them.

He starts raising his head, but before his eyes even focus on her, he knows it's Emma sitting there.

She's dressed casually, in comfortable clothes; her hair is worn in a low ponytail and there's a small holdall lying next to her. He looks straight into her worried face.

“Killian...” she says.

He just stares, still not over the surprise of seeing her out of nowhere just as he was thinking on how to start breaking up with her.

“I know this looks weird,” Emma continues. “I've had some time to think and... I'm not stalking you.”

“Wha- how...”

“I'm sorry. I should have let you know earlier. It was... very impulsive. But I would've come soon anyway.”

“How did you know where...”

“The gift you sent me for Christmas. The package had your address on it.”

His head is spinning. Whatever it is she wants to say, it'll have to wait until tomorrow. “Come upstairs,” he says.

“Wait, really? I've booked a hotel-”

“You can take the bed. It's got clean sheets.”

“Killian-”

He cuts her off with a stern look. He's not in the mood to have a sweet argue with her about it. “Just come.”

He's glad that this time it's only him stinking of booze and not his apartment as well. He sits down on the sofa, eyes already closing, and he's barely conscious enough to take his brace and shoes off.

“Is something wrong?” Emma starts. “You're...”

“Relapsing. Why is everyone avoiding that word?”

“Are you okay?”

Killian shrugs. “Not much to say. I'm tired.”

“I'm sorry. I should have let you know I'm coming. I... I'd thought I could surprise you...”

Killian laughs mirthlessly. “Lucky me,” he says, then blacks out.

[dawniebb]

Face reveal bc yes

So, guys...especially from the Renegades fandom bc i’m the most active there: you saw the title lmao. This will...barely get notes (i wonder if it’ll get notes at all) buuUUUT YEAH LET’S GOOOO (If you’re gonna reblog pls be respectful bc i have issues and btw reblog ONLY if we are mutuals)

THIS IS ME! <3 HELLOOOO!!!

Now, if you want to stop here, do it. If you don’t...well

I’m going to tell you a story about myself and why I decided to post this.

First of all, I’m not celebrating anything. I’m just celebrating me, I guess (?) and in fact I’ve been wanting to do this since my parents got me a She-Ra cake for my 20th birthday back in May, because I loved that thing and felt the physical need to shove that thing into everyone’s faces But I didn’t because I didn’t feel ready enough...then that thought left my mind, and it came back like two weeks ago.

I’ve had mental issues since I was in like...elementary school. I’m sure I had felt depressed before I turned 12; however, the first memory I hold of feeling so, it’s when I was already 12. Because it was then when I realized that I wasn’t just a dumb kid who didn’t know how to make friends xd To this day, I genuinely feel like I was suffering from isolation bullying; you know xd my classmates purposely excluded me from activities, they would find any excuse for not letting me join their work teams and stuff like that; during my last year at elementary school, I only had like one friend, and that one friend and I shared a sort of abusive/toxic relationship, as in: manipulation, “we’re best friends. you should only talk to ME”, and then this friend turned her back at me too, because she decided to join the rest of the group and ignore me.

lol.

And I remember wondering what was I doing wrong. Like, why didn’t people like me; why didn’t they want to hang out with me; why did everyone seem to have friends except me. And then I got trapped into a very...dark place, and I remember being overthinking one day, because I tend to overthink a lot...and I remembered this specific kid who was in the same class as me.

I was in the line for the teacher to check my homework, and this kid, a boy, was behind me.

You see. I’ve always been chubby xd I don’t think I’ve ever been skinny since I was 2 years old or so, because by the time I was in kindergarten my classmates’ moms were already calling me a ‘little meatball’ thinking it was a fucking adorable nickname because Mexican moms can be pretty shitty sometimes don’t let the media stereotypes fool you not all of them are all cheerful and upbeat and when I was in elementary school, for some reason, besides being chubby, I had a really bad posture. And this boy who was behind me started imitating my way of walking and his friends were laughing, so I turned around and asked him wtf his problem was xd and he turned around to his friends and asked “Do you see how hunchback she is?” like I wasn’t even there xd and I genuinely tried to slap him but I couldn’t, and he said “Yo, stop moving because you’re going to cause an earthquake”

And my mom has always felt personally attacked for the fact I’m...u know, fat. She has always been very insistent on the fact I need to lose weight and stuff like that. And her, mixed with my experiences at school, made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

But my mind started saying things like “And u know why you aren’t enough? Because you’re fat”

Because, like, the day of the hunchback insult, when I told the teacher, who was a very shitty teacher btw but i’m not talking about her again today (i’ve already talked about her in MANY of my university papers, because I’m studying to be an English teacher), she turned around at him and said “Don’t listen to HER” and to this day I still don’t know why xd

But it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Because I was fat.

Lol x2.

To this day, I still don’t know if I have an ED. Like, I genuinely don’t know. But I can safely say that, if I have one, it’s more likely BED... because, through the years, I managed to lose weight when I turned like 15 and I had my quinceañera party, but then first year of high school came and I had a relapse into depression...like, this might come off as a very unpopular opinion, but junior high school was dope for me x’d I remember it as one of the best years in my life, right after my second and third year in high school (high school in Mexico lasts only three years) and so...when I started my first year in high school and got fucking depressed again, I gained ALL that weight back, and even doubled it. During my second year of high school, I met my friends. The friends I still keep with me to this day. And they accepted me like the fucking train wreck I was, failing math like three times in a row and crying about it every single one of those times  because I’m pretty sure I have dyscalculia but my parents won’t listen to me they think i’m just lazy when it comes to math even though they know i cant even read a fucking clock . And them, along with my another very close friend who I met via fanfction when I was 12, helped me go through it. Like, I did have some issues with my body during high school, but not as much as you would expect. They were getting pretty bad in my first and second semester, but during the other four my friends managed to stop me from losing my mind, even when it all went to shit in my third year again for different reasons.

Then I graduated from high school, and I made friends there too. Although my best friends are still my friend from fanfiction, my friends from high school and just one of my university friends. And you know...I was left...pretty scarred from the shit that happened during third year of high school, and even if I didn’t feel like I was *that* depressed, I did gain a lot of weight.

Like, the highest I’ve ever been. Then my dad got sick during October from last year, then my two doggies were murdered god i fucking hate my neighbors the same day my dad was released from the hospital and my mom went kinda nuts during December and I wanted to just...yeah.

So I did a lot of emotional eating. Like, y’all don’t understand.

It was like...I would go to uni and eat a brownie. Then chocolates on my way home. THEN a “a snack” like...fucking rice krispies. Then a huge ass meal, with soda bc why not. Then I would have either cookies or hot cheetos as a treat after my huge ass meal,

I’m a short person xd carrying that much weight was making my ribs and back hurt, as well as my legs and feet; my breathing was freaking awful, and there were some days were I got SO paranoid I just said things like “i’m gonna die today” or “out here trying to get diabetes like the rest of your family, aren’t you??” :’) but i didn’t tell anybody. My parents are not really an option in this case, BUT I didn’t tell my friends, because then I would have to explain that I ate a lot and that was something I was EXTREMELY ashamed of.

When February came, I was scared of going out, because I knew I would have to choose what clothes to wear and nothing fit me anymore and, the things that did, looked super stretched on me and, u know, I was sore. My health was getting bad. But I didn’t like to feel that way.

AND I MUST CLARIFY HERE. I’M WORKING ON THAT. I’M ACTUALLY A BODY POSITIVY DEFENDER, I JUST DIDN’T LIKE HOW *I* LOOKED AND, BESIDES, I WAS GETTING SICK. I GENUINELY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE AT SOME POINT. I’M NOT SAYING BEING FAT OR CHUBBY IS DISGUSTING. NO. I BELIEVE ALL HUMAN BEINGS ARE EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL. AND IF I’M WRITING THIS IS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW RECOVERY IS DISGUSTING AND DIFFICULT SOMETIMES AND THAT IF YOU’RE GOING THROUGH SOMETHING LIKE THAT: I’M SORRY. NOBODY SHOULD EVER FEEL LIKE THAT. I SUPPORT YOU. AND I HOPE THINGS GET BETTER. AND NO MATTER WHAT OTHERS SAY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE TO CHANGE ONLY IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE. BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BODY. KEEP HOLDING ON.

But going back to the story...

My friends used to tell me I looked pretty all the time, which I appreciate a lot to this day. But my parents were like

Me: I’m fat and I look deformed.

Them: I agree.

Because yeah.

Just before the pandemic madness happened, I went on a school trip with my uni friends and one of them triggered my isolation trauma in the worst way possible...and that, somehow, ruined ALL the photos I took throughout the trip. Because I wasn’t enough. Because I was deformed and fat and I looked like an apple. Because nobody wanted to be seen near me. And my personality was shitty.

Like, I should’ve known I was worth it. I’m still worth it and I know that. But I wasn’t less worth it when I was chubbier. And maybe I didn’t look as bad as my head made me believe. But at the time my mental health was extremely awful.

Now, covid happened.

Not gonna lie. Quarantine fucked me up as much as it fucked everyone else, but for me...by not going out, I stopped being near trigger foods, and I was even able to consult a dietitian.

I’ve lost 15 kg since March. And I’ve managed to love my past self, but I love this one because changing it was my decision. Sure, my parents didn’t help a lot, but in the end it was MY decision. I’ve come to accept I was worth it even when I felt disgusted by myself, and all of those awful things people said or did to me, like my friend during that trip...

I didn’t deserve any of those things. Because NO ONE deserves to be treated that way.  No one deserves somebody else making fun of them. No one deserves somebody else doing awful things to them that they know damn well that they trigger their childhood trauma. No one deserves to be judged for the way they look.

I was in a very dark place, and sometimes I’m still inside there. And like...during all those times, I kept posting in here.

I remember being next to my dad in the hospital, telling him “Guess what? Supernova drops this week” or “We’re going to watch TDP together, right?” or “Let me talk to you about She-Ra...” ....those were things that like...saved my life for a while, though mostly Supernova. Because, actually, Marissa Meyer has helped me in my fucking darkest years x’d from my third year of high school until now.

Her books didn’t take my depression away, but they did make things a little lighter for me, even when I felt like dying.

And I know this fandom is like..full of minors, so...I don’t know if any of you need to hear this: But you’re worth it.

If you want to change anything in your body, do it because YOU want to.

Because YOU’LL like you better.

Because it’s YOUR body, and it’s the only part of yourself that you and other people can touch.

Nobody should ever tell you you’re worthless because of your weight and your physical appearance. And if they ever do, then they’re the ones who should apologize, not you.

Nobody has the right to mistreat you, abuse you, or use your own body against you.

As for me...my ribs don’t hurt anymore. Nor does my back or my feet, and my breathing is getting better; I took the conscious decision to lose weight but, like I said, now that I’m not in such a dark place, I’m staring to realize that the past me wasn’t as hideous as my mind was making me believe. She was okay; she was broken inside, but she didn’t deserve anything that happened to her, nor did she deserved to treat herself that badly.

I posted my photo just to celebrate that I can finally said I’m not disgusted anymore. I can finally see myself in pictures again. And see my own reflection. Or go through my closet. Or do my makeup, because I LOVE doing my makeup and I was even ashamed of that. I’m not fully okay yet, but I’m healing.

So, if there’s any little Dawnie around here: I hope you give yourself a chance and realize you’re beautiful.

I hope that, if you change, it’s because you wanted to do it.

I hope you know that it’ll get better even if the healing process it’s not that easy.

I hope you know there’s people who love you.

I hope you know that you are beautiful. You were always beautiful and, no matter what path you choose, you’ll always be beautiful.

And worth it.

And human.

And important.

Take care of yourself, because you’re wonderful, no matter your size <3

[mrs-han]

Hello!! I see your request is open, so i was wondering could you write about jumin finding out that mc has a self harm scars? And she’s been trying not to relapse into her old habit but she’s having a hard time so it’s the only thing she can think of? Im sorry for my bad english 😅 and if you don’t want to do it, it’s okay! Don’t force yourself to write it. Thank you, oh and also i like your writings a lot! Have a good day :)

~~~

You’re too sweet, thank you so much for your request! This deals with some fairly upsetting topics!

~~~

The delicate georgette sheen from your onyx long-sleeved dress rubbed harshly against your slashed arms. Of all times to relapse, this was the worst - Jumin was a guest of honor at a new hotel inauguration, and of course, he brought you along.

Palms sweating, you pasted a friendly smile towards every patron in attendance. Frankly, you were overjoyed with your husband’s success. But with you having issues of your own... it was difficult to be in a celebratory mood.

“Mrs. Han!” A sponsor quickly made his way towards you, bringing with him several other philanthropists. Anxious, you tugged the hem of your sleeve down, experiencing a sharp pain and a subtle ooze of liquid.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” the older gentleman beamed, hand extended towards you. “I am Tanaka Sato, a close partner of your husband.”

Again, you plastered a fake smile across your mouth. You reached over to shake his hand and shuddered as pain radiated through your right arm. Unconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanaka.”

“It seems he has chosen a new aesthetic, entirely separate of C&R’s minimalistic design. Are you the inspiration behind this?” A chirpy young woman chimed in.

“I always consult with my wife before making any major decisions,” Jumin spoke affectionately, resting his hand on your waist and lightly tugging you close to him. “This project has been hers as much as it has been mine.”

Several of the woman blushed and whispered amongst themselves as the men took a subtle step back, aware of the power both you and Jumin exuded.

If only you felt as powerful as you looked.

“Jumin?” You flashed him a subtle look of desperation. “I need to freshen up, where’s the restroom?”

“Come with me, my love. Excuse us,” he smiled, his eyes bright and full of fondness for you, ignoring everyone else.

It still confused you, how he could look at you with so much love in his eyes. A whirlwind of emotion ravaged your stomach and chest every time he did it. Were you deserving? Certainly not. But he continued to gaze at you with more tenderness than Cupid’s gaze upon Psyche.

“Are you well?” He asked, the strong acoustic voice that overpowered the venue twenty minutes ago now a low, effete tone.

“I’m okay,” you lied. “I couldn’t find the bathroom, but I’ll be out in a minute or two! Go back to your guests!”

A lie was difficult to get past Han Jumin. But he kissed your temple and squeezed your arm - and you held back a mighty yelp.

There was a first time for everything.

“I’ll be waiting for you by the grand piano,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

After watching his withdrawing figure, you pushed the door to the ladies’ room open, flew to a stall and caught your breath before slowly unbuttoning the diamond buttons on your sleeves. Pain greeted you instantly as the cuts on your wrists throbbed unbearably, each laceration making up a heartbeat on their own.

Easing the sleeves up further, you winced. Dull maroon meshed with bright red, old droplets of blood met new. Unforgiving gashes punished you mercilessly, each slice reminding you of how stupid it was to relapse now, when things were so good. Why now? You were so beloved. So cherished. You had no goddamn reason to do this to yourself.

Choking back sobs, you recklessly pushed the stall door open and turned the faucet on. The water cold, you shoved your arms under and bit your lip, desperate to keep from crying out. Determined to keep your scars from discharging anymore blood, you scrubbed with the flat of your hand. The white of the porcelain sink and marble countertops, illuminated by the overhead lights, was now stained with red hues. You had to hurry before someone else came in - everyone knew your face. Anyone could report what they saw to Jumin, especially...

“MC?”

Jaehee.

Tears blurring your vision, you looked towards the door. Her eyes wide, she stood there, processing the scene before her. Hands shaking, you turned the faucet off and, trembling, faced her with what little courage you had left.

She continued to stand there, speechless. You had presented a fairly complicated situation to her, no doubt. Finally, she pressed her hand to the door. “There you are... I will let Mr. Han know.”

“No!” You bellowed. “Please, don’t!”

Conflicted, Jaehee hesitated. “Those cuts... they look serious. It’s best that I —”

“Jaehee,” you pleaded, tears falling down your chin. “Please. I’m begging you, don’t tell Jumin.”

Jaehee’s brows creased. “But MC... he’s worried about you. He’s been standing by the piano for over twenty minutes and now he is sending others to look for you... myself included.”

Overwhelmed and angry as more blood leaked from your opened gashes, you shouted at her. “He can’t see me like this!! Look at me!! Look!!”

Jaehee blinked and flinched slightly.

“I look disgusting!! My arms hurt, I... I can’t face him like this, Jaehee... please —”

“Have you found her, Assistant Kang?”

You didn’t have time to shield yourself. Jumin stepped through the threshold and froze in place. Completely exposed and frozen with fear, you stood before your husband like a deer in headlights.

A single drop of water falling into the ceramic of the sink was the only sound that could be heard.

“Leave us,” Jumin spoke to Jaehee, his voice trembling ever so slightly - his power slipping from him.

Obedient to the end, Jaehee agreed - leaving you stranded.

“What is this,” Jumin demanded, power seeping back to his voice.

You trembled. “Jumin...”

He moved closer to you. “Who did this to you?”

What did he mean...? His eyes trembled, moving back and forth between your arms and your eyes. Did he... not believe you could have done this to yourself? Did he not want to...?

You hung your head shamefully. There was no going back from this, no more hiding from him anymore. You felt mortified, embarrassed that he could see you like this. If only you could turn back time and...

“Give me your arm.”

You flinched - he was already so close to you and you didn’t hear him move. Refusing to look at him, you limply lifted your arm - his hand took hold, making you wince.

He turned the faucet on and ran his hand through the water, checking it’s temperature. “Come closer to the sink,” he hummed, easing you closer to the sink with his other hand on your lower back.

You shuddered as your husband cupped cool water over your wounds. His fingers stroked your burning cuts, making you wince and twitch - but he remained kind and gentle throughout.

What bothered you more than anything was his silence.

He remained focused - but quiet. Hot tears flooded your vision - he would think of you differently now. He could think you were crazy, or he would put you away in a mental ward. He wouldn’t want you anymore, not after this.

The silence dragged, second to second, minute to minute. Jumin patted your arm dry, still saying nothing.

“Jumin...” your voice trembled. “I... I —”

“Give me your other arm,” he spoke, a commanding yet tender tone overtaking his voice.

“Jumin...”

His eyes met with yours and you trembled under the weight of his sorrow. “Talk to me, darling. Please talk to me.”

You moved your hand over your mouth. What were you supposed to say...?

Jumin swallowed thickly. “Are you... are you unhappy with me?”

“No, no Jumin, not at all...!”

“Then...” he took a step toward you, cradling your elbows in the palms of his hand. “... talk to me. Dearest, these wounds look fresh... days old.”

“I...” you leaned against the sink, your legs wobbling. “There are days when... when I’m the happiest person in the world because I have a wonderful life... and I have you, you who loves me more than life itself... and yet... there are days when I’m so sad, so miserable with my own existence that I... I take my misery out on myself.”

Jumin’s thumbs stroked your abrasions, his touch so gentle that you lost any will to contain your tears. You leaned into him, hands close to your chest, and you wept.

“Come here,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you firmly against him. “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“Of course you are,” you whispered. “You’ve always been here...”

He cradled your face in his hands, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I want to help you, darling.” His blinked and you gasped as tears rolled down his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Jumin...”

He clutched your hands desperately, as if you would disappear without a moment’s notice. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll sit with you and we can come up with a plan for you to stop hurting yourself. I’ll shorten my schedule at work just to hear your troubles, my love. I’ll do anything, so please. Don’t leave me. Whatever is plaguing you, we can fight it together... I won’t ever leave you to fight on your own, so please. Please.”

His knuckled whitened. His hands trembled. For the first time since you met him, you witnessed your husband so desperate to keep you by his side... and you realized that you weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in a long time, you felt a link in the chains that subdued you break and shatter... all because he loved you and wanted to help you.

No he couldn’t banish your demons all together. You didn’t expect him to. But at least this time... you weren’t alone.

“Thank you,” you pipped. “I only wish you found this out later, rather than... here, now, at this very moment. I’m afraid I ruined a really important night for you...”

Jumin carefully kissed your scarred wrist. “No businessman nor any proposition will take precedent over you, my love. Now... let’s finish cleaning you up, mm?”

Through tears, you cracked your first genuine smile of the evening. “Okay.”

[yourcasualfangirl]

Aaron and Kaytlyn Minyard-

This is gonna be a long one strap in.

Tw// self harm, suicide, drug abuse, war

Rosie Minyard:

- Rosie Minyard was born in Hawaii to a different name and a different family.

- When she was 5 her parents were murdered. It’s as simple as that. And she was taken.

- there’s a lot of speculation about what actually happened and god if she knows

- but where she goes after that is what’s mattered.

- she’s sold to the biggest human trafficking ring in North America.

- for years she gets bought and sold and it’s all she ever knows.

- it gets busted when she’s 12 and she gets out.

- she’s rushed to a hospital in New York but she refuses to be treated, nobody can get close enough before she starts screaming and fighting

- she’s so traumatized she can’t speak, even if she could she doesn’t speak much English.

- she’s malnourished and beaten and has so many scars you couldn’t even begin to count, the most noticeable one from her right eyebrow to somewhere below her collar

- enter Aaron Minyard

- he recognizes that look in her eye, he saw it when he first met Jean and a car alarm went off, when he first saw kevin after leaving the nest, when Andrew had a bad day, when he saw Neil for the first time after Baltimore

- so he asks if he can look after her, eventually the doctors give in, there’s nothing they can do anyway

- so he sits with her, he doesn’t speak and neither does she. For days, neither of them talk, he comes in when his shift starts and leaves when it’s over

- then he does start talking, he talks to her about anything and everything, he takes to calling her ‘Rosie’ after some of the flowers that were dropped off

- one day he comes in and she’s sitting where he normally does, he asks if he can sit with her and she nods, he asks if he can give her a quick check up, make sure she’s okay, and she nods

- she doesn’t let anyone else touch her, doesn’t let anyone else near her

- and then they find out her name, the first time someone says it to her she starts screaming again, she try’s to run

- Aaron’s the only one who can calm her down, he calls her Rosie until she falls asleep

- that night she tries to kill herself

- Aaron’s the one who stops her, coming in to bring her food, kaytlyns with him

- right then and there’s kaytlyn knows nobody else is going to take her home. She knows it’s gotta be them, so she asks Aaron that night, if they can foster her

- Aaron just looks at her for a moment before he starts crying. He says yes of course and she’s theirs within the month

- the next year is hard, it’s so goddamn hard but they never give up on her

- they help her through her nightmares and therapy, they hold her when she doesn’t remember where she is and thought someone hurt them

- she starts talking about six months in, slowly but surely. She doesn’t speak a lot, it’s just something that’s really hard for her so they learn sign.

- but Rosie does get better, nightmares become less frequent, and god do the foxes love her

- her and Andrew get along easily and quickly, with long silences and hesitant signing (Andrew learned when Aaron did)

- sometimes Andrew and Jean feel like the only ones who could ever understand

- the first time she calls Aaron ‘da’ is when she’s hysterically crying. She woke up not knowing where she was, kaytlyn was working the night and Aaron was asleep. She ran to the living room, though she knew where she was it wasn’t registering. Aaron went downstairs to see what all the fuss was and she was in the backyard.

- she collapsed and cried and begged him to never leave her, when she called him ‘da’ he cried too

- it hurt to see her in so much pain

- when she was 16 she attempted suicide again, the memories being too much

- she had to get institutionalised for a little while and Aaron and Kaytlyn were there every step of the way

- she got better. Really better. It took a while and it was hard but she did. The foxes helped and though she was never able to fully talk about what happened to her, she was never able to have sex without the panic coming back, she was okay again.

Aristotle Minyard:

- the second Aaron saw him he knew what had happened to this boy

- kaytlyn had been the one to propose another kid, Rosie was 13 now and when they asked her about it she had been so excited

- so they went to their local orphanage (idk how it works don’t come at me)

- Aristotle Minyard was born to a different name and different family

- he grew up in a trailer park in southern New Mexico, he barely spoke English

- he had track marks all down his arms and was too skinny for it to be genetics

- he couldn’t look people in the eye and couldn’t stand still

- when Aaron had tried to talk to him he almost started crying.

- they asked what had happened to him and it went like this:

- born and raised in New Mexico, abusive druggie parents who used whatever they had as a substitute for the ADHD meds that Ari needed. Nobody knew the full extent of what had happened

- Kate knew then and there that that boy was going to be theirs.

- the thing was, he came as a packaged deal

- when they asked him if he’d be okay staying for a while he refused, he refused to go anywhere without ‘Lil’

- nobody knew who that was

- eventually he lead them to the detention room where the kids who start fight go, he pointed to the only girl in the room

- a small middle eastern girl who looked as if she wanted to rip the heads off everyone there

- apparently she had been protecting him since the second he got there

- so Aaron and Kate made the decision and took them both home

- it took a while for Ari to come out of his cage but they soon realized everytime they called him by his birth name it got worse, he was back to being the helpless little boy who let him mum poke needles in his arms

- so they asked him what he wanted to be called, and he remembered a man his grandmother used to talk about ‘Aristotle’ now he didn’t really know who that was but the name was cool so he stuck with it

- and he was Aristotle Minyard, he stopped repressing his ADHD because he soon learned in this house it doesn’t mean pain, it doesn’t mean no food

- it took a while and some therapy but eventually he was himself again, the himself he never got to be before Aaron and Kaytlyn

- he never called his parents mum and dad, he never really called them anything so moving those titles to Aaron and Kaytlyn felt like reclaiming who he was and who he wanted to be

- because those names menat love and for the first time ever he felt it

- of course Ari had his bad days, days when the cravings were so bad he felt like he was dying but Aaron was always there

- he helped him through all of it

- the first time Ari touched Aaron’s own track marks and then his Aaron didn’t know what to do, but when Ari quietly whispered ‘we match’ and Aaron hugged him until they both felt okay again. Aaron cried to Kate all night

- he relapsed when he was 17. It was bad. It was really really bad. Ever seen beautiful boy?? Yeah it went like that. His birth parents were trying for custody. He had to go to court and everything and it was so damn hard even Aaron felt the urge

- but after that, when he got out of rehab and saw his parents and fox family again he knew he had a reason to keep fighting, though the drugs didn’t want him to see it

- Jack day and Aristotle Minyard were the best of best friends that ever were. Everyone was convinced they were dating (despite ari being straight), they went everywhere together, they loved each other so damn much and jack helped Ari out of the darkest of times

- he and Nicky speak Spanish together and gossip and talk shit constantly, he and Nicky are like best friends and everyone’s so confused

Lilith Minyard:

- Lilith Minyard was born in a war. She was born in fighting and battle but never thought she would see the middle of it

- and then she did.

- her village was bombed when she was six, the children were rounded up and taken

- she was forced to be a soldier

- she watched children die, she watched families die, she even killed

- it was that or death. She watched her brother refuse, she then watched them cut off his legs and leave him to die. She had to survive.

- when she was 13 she immigrated to America (that thing where you come to the country because if you go back to yours you’ll die)

- she was put into foster care where she met Ari, a small boy on the other end of people’s cruel ness, she watched him allow people to keep bullying him so she stuck with him, she stuck with him and protected him

- she didn’t really have morals anymore, she didn’t know right from wrong, she didn’t know if she cared to learn anymore

- she was much like Andrew in that sense. She couldn’t care less what happened to her, she had no regard for her own life but once she found someone worth protecting it was all that mattered

- when Ari got adopted she went with him

- she didn’t trust Aaron or Kate, any amount of kindness could be a set up, could be a trick

- she might be young but she had seen things they could only imagine

- they made her start therapy, she didn’t talk. She could deal with the nightmares. She could deal with the PTSD. She could do it all herself and didn’t need anyone.

- she slowly started protecting Rosie too.

- she would be lying if she said she wasn’t growing fond of some of the foxes (neil and Renee)

- she had a smart mouth of her own too, her and Neil would get going at it and it would be quite the show

- she never let her guard down though

- Aaron and Kate did what they could but she just wouldnt let them in

- until one night, Ari and Rosie were at Jacks, she had stayed home

- the nightmares were bad, really really bad

- she woke up in a cold sweat and didn’t know where she was

- she walked down stairs so quietly you wouldn’t even know she was awake

- Aaron and Kate were in the kitchen

- she was still at war, she felt it in her bones

- she grabbed katelyn from behind and held her in a headlock, seconds away from snapping her neck

- it took a while to talk her down, to show her she was safe, that her mind was playing tricks on her

- she was yelling in Arabic which nobody knew, and then she was crying too

- they didn’t sleep that night, and the next day Lilith actually talked in therapy

- and the next time someone asked ‘which Minyard? The psycho or the murderer’ she punched them in the face because that was her family

- she was the only one who could take Andrew and Renee in a fight and beat them both

- she was so angry, violence a first nature for her, it took her a while to make it come second, it took her even longer to be able to come to terms the fact that she did need help

- she came out when she was 16, she did so by responding to kaytlyns ‘any cute boys at school?’ question over dinner with ‘ew no but plenty of girls’

- she ended up dating dan and Matt’s daughter

- she chose her name when she first came to America after she heard the story of Adam and Eve, she decided she wanted to be like Lilith

- she’s form Iran btw

All of them:

- they all play exy: Rosie is goalkeeper, Ari dealer and Lilith striker

- they asked Aaron and Kate to properly adopt them when they were 15, they threw a little party

- they help each other, a lot

- so much trauma in one house oml

- also so many languages, German and English with aaron, Arabic and English with Lilith, hawaiian and English for Rosie and Spanish and English with Ari

[flightofaqrow]

Meta: Road to Recovery

OKAY SO

Yesterday, @ littleblackqrow made this excellent post about Qrow hitting rock bottom in vol 6, [< that’s a link to it, my blog isn’t always great with identifying that] which breaks down:

Him being forced to literally face the consequences of his actions in regards to drinking.

Him not dealing with frustration or lack of direction well.

The rising tensions of his interpersonal relationships, people starting to lose patience with and call him on his bs, especially as he gets worse.

How important his relationship with Ruby is and not wanting to put that at risk.

Beautiful. The good stuff. Go read it if you haven’t.

But I also present to you another nuance that affected his descent and ultimate decisions: a complete blowout identity crisis. 

This got long so I’m going to try and separate it into phases.

I. Loss of Identity

"I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world. I thought I was finally doing some good." 

When Ozpin’s secret is revealed, Qrow’s reaction is to believe��his entire purpose for the last 20+ years was working towards something that was never really a complete plan and probably doomed from the start. None of it mattered: The work STRQ put in. His choosing the opposite side of his own sister. Losing Summer. All the spying, fighting. The whole idea of having huntsman to begin with and all the effort he put in to be one of the best. All of the things he didn’t do instead.

In one fell swoop he loses his whole identity. 

On top of finding out one of his most trusted people not only kept secrets, but lied to him - someone he’s likely stood up for and defended with bared teeth and is now finding out those other people were right.  On top of what is still coming that has to be faced and all the lives in danger.

Ruby is right to be worried he won't take it well. Who would?

II. Rock Bottom

It's why even the apathy scene where he knows he fucked up isn't enough. The whole situation still feels hopeless. He still feels empty. Oh, and let's add on finding out his own hero and inspiration was one of the ones who gave up and ran away. 

[Aside: When they were riding in the cart and Maria said “especially when some of you are clearly stronger already” I’m pretty sure that included Qrow. Look at him through her eyes! A huntsman 40+ who’s dedicated his whole life to the occupation, and even though it’s clearly taken a toll and he struggles, he’s still out there fighting the good fight to the bitter end like you’re supposed to!! She can’t be only talking about the young ones being skilled.]

So rock bottom hits.

But.

But.

"If you think you can keep up with us kids, we’d be happy to have you."

Eventually we have the scene where Ruby stands up to him and offers him a new place at her side.  She’s too smart for her own good. Even if it’s subconscious and intuitively, she knows what he needs. Maria’s still there, too. Still means something to him, and she reinforces this idea, coaxing him to make better choices: 

"Guess you didn't give her enough credit either."

The seed’s been planted, but he's still too stuck in his own head and guilt to see it yet. 

III. Breaking Down and Building Back Up

This finally culminates in his breakdown when the airship abduction plan starts falling apart: 

“Every choice I've ever made has led me here, and I've dragged you along with me. Oz, myself, the others... We're responsible for the mess the world's in now. I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have let any of you come... What was I thinking?!” 

Hopefully, this hits a little bit different now. It’s not just semblance-based guilt or even recognizing his recent failings. It’s everything crashing down around him. Literally every choice he’s made.

But then Ruby absolves him. [wow look at what can happen when you actually talk about stuff.] She steps up as her own person and a full on leader for the group, and finally, finally frees him from everything up until now; even this self-imposed intermediate job of being the responsible adult. And then once more reminds him of who he is and that there is still a fresh start to be his own person. She uses his full name for a reason.

“We could still use Qrow Branwen on our side.”

So he chooses to join the fight. Because of course he does. 

He’s Qrow Branwen. 

The huntsman who does what’s right.

IV. Staying Sober

So when all is said and done, and they’re winding down from the battle, and he goes for a drink, it isn't just not wanting to worry Ruby that stops him. He can’t even see her face. [Although, saying "just don't go giving me heart attacks like that again" aloud does, I think, finally cause the immediate flash of insight / irony that Ruby probably feels the same way about him, and is definitely a factor]. It's not even him confronting or atoning for his actions.

No, this moment is him making the transition from being Oz's spy (when it was all fun and games and he could get away with stuff because he was that good and worked alone), to realizing that if he's going to take on this new role as a committed support for RWBY + ORNJ (in a deadly war with uncertain and changing tactics, against an unkillable being), then, I need to be sharper. I need to be more present. I need to be a better me.

This is him looking right down the mouth of his flask and deciding for himself to leave it in the past with Ozpin and his own former identity, and to instead move forward and grow alongside everyone else.

Yesterday’s post made the beautiful observations of Ruby’s expressions during this scene, but let’s look at Qrow.

[I’m busy having a personal crisis, don’t touch me.]

[Well, I guess it’s okay.]

V. Bonus Round

And let me point out that once more, at the end of the battle, Maria reinforces him, this time by validating his performance in this new standby and support function. [Which is also probably closer to what he was used to being in STRQ, and more comfortable for him.]

“You weren't half bad yourself today, Qrow.”

This is self indulgent but I’M ADDING IT ON BECAUSE THIS SCENE BLOWS MY MIND, OK!! ALL WITHIN 40 SECONDS WE SEE:

Qrow being validated. 

Qrow talking about his feelings.

Qrow accepting a compliment with poise. 

Qrow genuinely relaxing and smiling.

BECAUSE OF MARIA!!!!

VI. Some extra asides

1. I think this all is part of why we see such a spike of bird form in vol 6 as well. Besides just making more sense than other battles maybe, since it’s something at a cliffside and tall forest, it's all he has left at that point. Ozpin and prior orders lost his respect. He lost the group's respect. He's already given the kids all the information he has. He's barely feeling useful as a huntsman. But here [man, the hope and pride in his voice when he says "you're not the only one who can get a bird's eye view" !!], here is this one thing that's special that he can still do and offer that no one else in the group can!! So he relies on it a little more than he normally would just to feel worthwhile.

2. SEE SECTION V - CLOVER YOU ABSOLUTE DOLT. Qrow’s already demonstrated all the things you’re trying to say he needs to work on. HE’S ONLY DEFLECTING AND FLUSTERED BECAUSE IT’S YOU SAYING THE THINGS!!! I don’t understand how the ship isn’t approached more from this direction instead of wanting Clover to be that development for him, but I always tend to handle ships differently I guess.

3. Expanding on that, Clover helped him have a fresh start with a new person to start feeling out this new self, and maybe work through some baggage. But I really think Qrow and this decision is stronger than to relapse much, if any, over the loss of him. I don't think he blames himself as much as some seem to believe either (yet another separate post), but even if he ends up with a bunch of guilt in vol 8, going sober was never about any resolution of his semblance or friend troubles. BUT at the same time stress is still stress so we'll see.

I feel like Nora running out of breath, bless you if you stuck with this the whole way.