#so i just felt extremely inadequate seeing my friend who i thought like me found it hard to make friends suddenly having a group of friends

[seoafin]

please free to ignore this if you’re not comfortable talking about it but i saw in a previous post you mentioned in the tags that you got into a huge fight with your best friend last year because you felt she didn’t put in enough effort on her end and i feel like i’m on the brink of going through this right now 😭

i’ve been friends with this girl for over 13 years now and love her to death but sometimes i feel as if my presence gets taken for granted. i feel like she believes she doesn’t have to put in much effort into our friendship anymore because i’ve been around for so long so there’s no way i’m gonna leave…and i HATE it!! there’s so much i have to say but i don’t even know where to start.

this is also semi related to my feelings on this but we have a third friend as well who we consider our best friend (corny to say but we’re a trio) but i feel this way towards her too sometimes. these past few months she got in a relationship and she while she definitely talked to us, she talked to us less and less in favour of her boyfriend (uni def played a part in this but she talked to him daily while we were lucky if we heard from her) but this past week lots happened and they ended up breaking up. this is genuinely the most i’ve heard her talk about her life with us in MONTHS and while i’m glad she did i’m a little bitter that she realized she should break up with him after some guy she befriended told her how trashy he is while i’ve been telling her that for MONTHS for it to fall on deaf ears.

it’s so annoying and i feel so stupid constantly putting in all this effort into these friendships giving all this advice for it to be ignored and be reciprocated back in lazy ways (they both give horrible lazy advice to me the rare times i have asked for it and it ends up just making me feel stupid).

i actually don’t know what i wanted out of dumping this in your asks but i just feel a little insane currently and think i’m crazy and care too much about little things. i feel so obsessive over these friendships and every little thing that happens while i know those two don’t think twice about it 😭 i guess i’m asking for advice on how to be less co-dependent? idk but you definitely don’t need to answer this if you don’t want, i know it’s A LOT to unpack and ur not a therapist…it’s very weird i’m dumping this here i sincerely apologize…

i do hope you’re having a fantastic day!!

i think what helped me the most was the realization that (cue that tumblr post) you can't force reciprocation. sometimes relationships and friendships will fizzle out. in the end all you can do is look back on and appreciate the time you did spend with them. there's no such thing as a wasted relationship. the only thing i can say is talk to them! i know how exhausting it can be to continuously be the one reaching out and how sad it is thinking you're the only one with any stake in the relationship

if you decide that this is a relationship worth preserving then you need to sit them down and talk to them. if they still don't understand then it's not worth it. let them go! i will say upon talking to my friend she did promise to try more and do better. and while she hasn't completely done that 100% i think i was at a point in my life where i recognized that our friendship wasn't going to be the same as it was when we were constantly seeing each other almost every day in hs. i can't keep on holding on to the past when we're completely different people! i'd say we're in a good place now. not as close as we once were but close enough that i don't need to rely on her when i go through life crises. i also don't harbor any resentment towards her anymore. as for being less co-dependent i think it's important to still be able to talk about your problems to a friend but i wouldn't look for emotional fulfillment in them if that makes sense? either find another friend or acknowledge that the advice they offer you comes from a place that doesn't necessarily have your best interests. rant to them but don't hinge your hopes on emotional reciprocation or a resolution. sometimes, just talking helps! you don't need to seek out an answer. also taking up a hobby doesn't hurt.

[csa-survivor-confessions]

(?) First off, thank you admins for taking the time to run this blog- the resources and comfort y’all provide means so much. I’m on mobile so sorry for writing a poorly formatted novel length ask lol

I have unique trauma, and I never see it discussed anywhere else so in the interest of possibly helping someone who hasn’t put the pieces together yet I wanted to talk about it.

When I was around 3, I got a UTI (im a cis woman). My doctor wanted to make sure I didn’t have kidney reflux, so they ordered a test called a VCUG. In short, what they do is put a catheter in you with no sedative/topical anesthetic, pump your bladder full of radiocontrast fluid until it literally backs up to your kidney (incredibly painful), and then you’re supposed to piss it out on the table or into a towel. I read a study (Goodman et al 1990, can send a link if y’all are interested) researching the validity of children’s testimony in court about CSA trauma (like how accurately they could remember the incident), and the “test” they used is the VCUG because it has every characteristic of a rape, but it’s a medical procedure (direct, painful genital contact and penetration with a foreign object by a stranger while a parent watches). I had it done twice in 6 month, and when my doctor ordered a third test “just to see” my mom put her foot down and said no.

It was my first memory, but for 23 years of my life I believed it was an exaggerated or false memory because it seemed cartoonishly traumatic and I didn’t believe it was a real medical procedure. I thought that it was just an ultrasound and because I was so young and scared I constructed that memory. But it WAS real. I found my medical record and put the pieces together myself as an adult. my first memory is of strangers undressing me, touching me, my mother helping the nurses restrain me, them “taking photos” of me with ultrasound and X-ray equipment, being denied autonomy over my own body and being treated like a science experiment. My entire life, I’ve been so confused, not knowing why I can’t set boundaries or have normal relationships, or why I gravitate towards people who have severe trauma, and why I understood how they felt. I always felt guilty because I didn’t have a “story” like they did. I believed I was just Incredibly Fucked Up For No Reason because I grew up in a stable home (for the most part), and I felt like I didn’t “deserve” to have those feelings because I didn’t think anything happened to me. But it did, and it /severely/ traumatized me. Because it’s my first memory, it’s a cornerstone of my personality, for better or for worse.

So my question is- now that I know what happened, how do I cope with feeling like a victim if there is no true perpetrator? There is no face attached to my trauma, nobody to blame. I was a toddler, the doctors and nurses were just doing their job, and if my mom didn’t follow their advice she’d be accused of medically neglecting her child. I guess I can be mad at the for profit medical system and the fact that doctors are financially incentivized to order those tests, but I feel like I can’t get complete closure from that. I want to tell some of my friends who have opened up to me about their own csa trauma, but I feel inadequate. Like on one hand, I didn’t get raped. It wasn’t like a family member I trusted was coming into my room every night. But on the other hand, it’s more extreme in a way? Like a medical bdsm gang rape while my mom watched. It’s dehumanizing in a different way because I wasn’t even seen as an object of attraction, I was like a lab rat. I have all of the same problems, the disassociation, the identity issues, the sexual problems, addiction, and self harm in the form of an eating disorder. I know that its not fair or healthy to compare my trauma to anyone else’s, but I’m just anxious about the reaction I might get from my friends whose experiences were more “textbook” abuse. So I’m kinda testing the waters here, if y’all have any advice for me I’d appreciate it.

This is more of a confession than a question, but I also have a memory gap from ages 7-9, and my therapist thinks something else was happening because losing two entire years like that is Not Normal. I can’t even recognize myself in photos from that time period. It’s a pretty disturbing feeling. I was already showing hypersexual behavior around 6- is it bad to hope that I do find out someone hurt me, so I can have a face to my trauma? So that I can find someone to blame other than myself and externalize the pain?

thank you again for reading my novel again I’m so sorry for the formatting 💕

Hello,

I think it could be good to understand it as a medical trauma along with sexual aspects. It sounds like you had a doctor who didn't know what he was doing or had incentives to put you through unnecessary testing which could count as medical malpractice.

Medical trauma rather from necessary procedures or unnecessary is something that feels like a violation of bodily integrity. Because you are having things in your body that are not a part of you. It's not gang rape, but it is a group of people treating you not like a person and putting your body through extreme physical and emotional stress. That is extremely traumatic and will have huge effects on anyone, especially children.

I personally have gone through a lot of medical trauma along with my CSA and psychological abuse. I have nightmares, body memories and flashbacks to medical events.

You are not alone in having gone through rare medical procedures and experiencing medical trauma from them. It might feel like you have extremely unique trauma, but other people have experienced rare medical procedures that caused trauma reactions or feel like sexual assault. Many tests and medical equipment go into the body (all kinds of feeding tubes, ostomy bags, catheters, tracheal tubes etc) and can feel like our bodily integrity has been broken.

Even if there isn't one huge perpetrator because the people were doing their job, that doesn't make you to blame for what you are going through. You can blame the doctor I suppose for ordering a test you didn't need, but you can also blame no one. No one had to be "evil" for the trauma to be real. Medica trauma is extremely real and no one is always in the wrong, it's just extreme stress on the brain so you experience trauma being held in the body.

I think when you get thoughts about your trauma not being valid because there is not one perpetrator, try and counter that thought. Maybe something like medical trauma is real, and so are my feelings. You can also practice journaling or making art about your trauma as this will help externalize your story and organize thoughts and emotions.

Many coping skills and trauma processing therapies (examples: somatic experiencing or EMDR) that work for CSA will also work for you. There are nuances to every trauma type but many skills overlap. [Resources-Info & Coping Skills]

Your trauma is valid, important and discerning to be heard and respected. Because you were put through something that hurt you and that's important. You are important and so is your story.

I wouldn't tell your friends your trauma is worse, as I don't think it is going to go over well with them I would also say knowing your abuser found you sexy isn't a protective factor against becoming traumatized.

I think telling your friends could be good, maybe don't frame it as "I experienced the same thing you did" or "I went through some more unique so it's worse" but instead frame it closer to "I experienced extreme medical trauma that had similar effects to sexual trauma. I could use some support in dealing with it." I think that framing will get you the best outcomes. Because you deserve to have the way it affected your sexuality respected, but framing your abuse in competition with there's might cause bad results.

Wanting our abuse to look like what trauma is generally shaped as, looking for a perpetrator or wanting the trauma to be "worse" is all totally normal. You are not a bad person. Also please be careful with recovering memories trying to force it can hurt.

I hope some of this helps,

-Admin 1

[baby-girl-e]

Cherry Wine

Tag List

Part 2

Characters - Phoenix x F!Reader

Summary - reader realizes her feelings for her childhood but convinces herself she’s out of her league. 

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings -  Fluff, Kissing

A/N - As most of my fics happen, this idea came to me in the middle of the night! If you like this, keep an eye out for a potential part two. Even if this crashes and burns and nobody likes it I’ll still probably write more because I write because I want to and it’s incredibly Therapeutic!

Growing up nothing made sense without Natasha around. You never had as much fun when she wasn’t there, always leaving early from the parties she didn’t attend. You had known each other since you were in elementary school, clicking the minute she moved in. She made you laugh more than any of your other friends, and you just seemed to get each other. For the longest time you thought that was all she was to you, a good friend. A good friend that you never wanted to part with. It wasn’t until she told you she was joining the navy that you finally realized how you really felt. Shit. You loved her, and she was leaving. You were obviously enthusiastically supportive of her decision, this was the perfect job for her. She was always destined to escape this small town, figuring she would outgrow it at some point.

 If you were being honest you had outgrown the town yourself, just didn’t quite have an out at the same time she did. That is until you got an offer to apprentice with a famous painter that had agreed to take you under his wing and teach you more than you could’ve learned going to art school. Painting has always been a comfort to you, being able to express how you felt without needing to use words. You could even channel your feelings about Natasha into them as well. One of your most successful paintings was actually inspired by her. It was an oil piece that depicted a faceless dark haired woman looking up into the sky. You had decided on a whim to enter it into a competition at a festival and ended up winning first place. You had a couple of offers to sell the painting (more than a couple honestly) but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sell a piece that meant so much to you. 

The painter who offered you an apprenticeship was actually one of the people who wanted to buy the painting, but when you refused his astounding amount of money solely for the fact that this painting meant so much to you, he knew he had found a true artist. That was how you found yourself with your bags packed and a one way ticket to San Diego. You got lucky when your now boss had told you where his studio was, heart warming at being so close to where Natasha was currently stationed. The two of you kept in touch and she said that after an extremely dangerous mission that almost took her life they offered her a choice of either staying or going somewhere else. She loved San Diego too much to leave it, and wanted to finally put some roots somewhere after years of traveling. 

Boarding your flight, your hands were shaking with anticipation. You were finally getting to live the life you’ve always wanted, close to the woman you loved and painting with a famous artist. The painting part was going to be the easy part. What about when you saw Natasha again? How were you supposed to act around her? Like you weren’t enthralled by every little thing she did? You liked to think positively, but you also liked to think logically. She was so far out of your league that it was almost ridiculous that you’d even be friends. She was always traveling, seeing new places, and she was a god damned navy aviator. She was the full package, beautiful, smart, and dangerously talented. You couldn’t help but feel highly inadequate speaking to her, let alone fantasize the idea that you two could ever be lovers. You shook the thoughts from your head and carried on boarding. 

The flight itself was short, given you lived only a few states away. Your new boss had set you up in one of the apartments he owned claiming he needed you to focus on your work and getting another job to pay for living expenses would be a distraction. After you argued with him for a minute, it was settled that he would let you live in the apartment and pay for your living expenses. You were never much of a negotiator and he seemed hellbent on supporting you. God knew he could afford it and never knew the difference. To put it into perspective, just one of his paintings could go for at least a year's worth of living expenses, and that’s being conservative.

 The rest of your things were being driven out by your sister and her husband in a week, so you made do with what you brought with you. After you unpacked the small amount of things you did have, you decided you wanted to go to the beach with your camera. It was nearing sunset and you were near giddy to get some good reference shots for a landscape piece that your boss wanted to work on with you. You threw on a light yellow sundress, sandals and a white cardigan thrown over the crossbody bag you always had. Once you felt confident about your outfit choice you headed out to the nearest beach. The walk there was pleasant and fairly quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the city around you. It gave you time to think over how you would tell Natasha that you were here. You had been meaning to every time you talked, but the words always escaped you. It was almost like you wanted to live in your bubble of fantasy, fearing that reality might pop it. 

When you snapped out of your reverie you realized you had definitely made it to the beach, people scattered here and there, the day obviously winding down. You immediately pulled out your camera and started snapping shots of the ocean and the sunset above it. You made your way closer to the ocean, taking off your shoes to be more comfortable. Feeling like you had enough pictures of this particular part of the ocean, you let the camera hang from the strap around your neck. You walk a little further before you come across a rowdy bunch of friends that seem to be playing some game of football. They looked so happy and carefree in the sunset so you snapped a few shots of the group. It wasn’t until you put the camera down once more that you realized that you recognized one of the players. How could you ever not recognize someone that beautiful. She looked different here, more carefree, more sure of herself. You were about to make your quick exit, not wanting to disturb her or the fantasy you had built, when you heard your name being called by the Pilot in question. She was now actively running towards you at a speed you didn’t know was possible in the sand, so you made a quick choice to cap your lens and carefully set your stuff down before she all but tackled you. Your heart was soaring at being at the receiving end of one of her hugs again. Her hands were gripping your back like she was afraid you’d float away if she let go for even a second. “What are you doing here Y/N?” She was breathless and you blamed it on the fact that she had just stopped playing a game to sprint towards you. “I live here now, just got in today.” She pulls back just slightly to see your face and oh. You forgot how easy it was to get lost in her eyes. All this time you thought you were painting a picture of her in your head. You thought you had amplified everything to put her on a pedestal, but clearly you were wrong. “Like permanently?” You try to form a word but all of your energy is being put into not looking at her lips, knowing if you did your heart would take over and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tasting them, so you just nod. She smiles at that and it looks like she’s considering something. She always had that look when she was trying to decide if a risky move was worth it. 

One time when you were in elementary school the two of you had found a tall dirt hill and you just so happened to be on your bikes, so you both ran your bikes up the hill and stopped at the top. You weren’t sure but when you looked over to Natasha she had that same look, like she really wanted to do something but was weighing out her options. You’re brought back to the present by Natasha apparently making her decision because her lips were on yours. You were shocked to say the least but the second your brain caught up with what was happening you were kissing her back. Everytime you imagined what this would feel like you never actually got it right apparently. You never imagined the way she takes your bottom lip between hers like she wanted to keep it. You never imagined the way she shyly slipped her tongue past your lips to explore your mouth further. Your arms ended up around her neck as hers pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. Eventually the need to breathe became apparent and you pulled away to be slightly chased by her lips having a mind of their own. You pressed your forehead against hers and closed your eyes tightly. “Nat, that was..” You weren’t sure what you were going to say honestly. How can you describe a kiss that nearly stopped your heart? “A long time coming?” You let out a breathless laugh and grin. 

God how long had it been since you were this happy? Never? “I promised myself Y/N, up in that cockpit when I had escaped the dogfight with my life, that the minute I saw you I would tell you how I felt. That I’ve loved you for a really long time, I just didn’t notice until it was too late.” Your unfocused and dazed eyes caught hers at that, “It was never too late Nat, I’ve loved you for a really long time too.” Her eyes started to water and you realized just how much time you’ve wasted thinking that she just saw you as a friend. Suddenly you were kissing again. This time it was mixed with tears and smiles but you could care less because it still tasted sweeter than cherry wine.

[darkobssessions]

Coping Tips for Autistic Women

I am compiling a list of resources for aspie women along with tips to manage symptoms and navigate the world. Regretably, most of my personal experience comes from living undiagnosed and unaware about this for the last 27 years. There was a giant elephant in the room with everything, and I have only recently worked it out. This means that most of my habits prior to this point were ones attempting to cope with a giant unknown, the limits of which were unclear. But they more or less worked, because, as I am realising, there’s always been something they are attempting to address.

With other diagnoses and ways I attempted to explain and understand my difficulties, there were finite causes and treatments. I should have been improving if I tried x, y, or z. And I did improve my symptoms in many ways, but there was something missing from the picture. That is that autism is my personality, my state of being, how I process and view the world. And no tool, medication, process or treatment was ever going to change who I really was. Being misdiagnosed (or being missed and failing to receive the autism diagnosis) means that I have been trying to correct something that you cant ‘correct’, and shaming myself for something fundamentally me.

Some of the tips I learned over time, from how I am as a person, without the framework of reference of neurodivergence or autism:

Sensory:

My sensitivity has always been a big waving flag. I felt and saw things others didn’t. I felt more deeply. I sensed the microeffects and changes in everything. I responded harder and faster to any chemical, environmental shift, any positive or negative event, As we all do on the spectrum, we attempt to navigate our sensory environment. And we come up with coping mechanisms, good or bad, before or after we realise we are on the spectrum. For me this was a strong aversion to the things that upset me, that disturbed my senses. It was an orienting of myself in a way to avoid the disturbances, going inwards, withdrawing and even shutting down. I learned that I could not and did not want to handle crowds, loud places, supermarkets. I lived in a giant simulation attempting to minimise and avoid as much as possible the things that hurt. I learned that I was extremely sensitive, no one else seemed to be, and I just had to manage it. Since discovering autism in the last weeks, I am able to embrace the fact that sensory overload is a thing, and I really do feel pain in my body when things are too much and too loud, and just wearing earplugs has mitigated so much of this. I was gas lighting myself before about feeling a certain way because there was no explanation, that I was aware of anyway.

Physical:

I have had so many problems over the years, since I was a young girl. I used to get food poisoning symptoms really easily. I had hidden allergies. I remember a lot of my childhood spent doubled up with stomach pains, or having a fever. My family didn’t know any better and fed me and treated me as they did every other member. I was not the same, I did not feel the same, but I took it all in. By the time I was in my early teen years, I had cemented my aversion to certain foods, taken the only control I had at the time against an encroaching and controlling mother and turned it into anorexia. I avoided things I didn’t like, again, and set up a system of control that made more sense than the gaping wounds and confusion within me. Starvation triggered bulimia. And a viscous cycle of malnourishment and dysregulation unfolded. I didn’t learn until many, many years later that my system was so sensitive and damaged that if I tried to go back to how I used to eat as a child, I would get terrible symptoms. So my coping tips as I have healed from the eating disorders and become more aware is to figure out what the triggers are, what hurts, and to avoid it. This along with adding in nutrient dense foods and working on the deficiencies has done wonders for me. I’ve done tremendous work on my autoimmune conditions, gut problems, sensitivities and inflammation levels and the difference is like night and day. That I can induce psychotic symptoms by deviating or introducing foods I am intolerant to is no joke. The tip I can share is elimination diets truly do work, the keto diet is recommended, and eating the carnivorous way saved my life. My eating disorders for almost 15 years INCLUDING the 7.5 years I was a vegan, mostly high raw and fruitarian depleted my nutrients so badly that every symptom was enhanced 100% and I was eating pretty much ONLY food I was actually intolerant to. Ahem, plants, I’m talking to you. The peace I feel, the nourishment and rest on a nervous system level having eliminated them is unreal.

Social:

I have always known I was different, in a deep, visceral way. How the adults in my life answered questions was inadequate. I saw through people and things. I was far too intense and serious. I learned to watch and observe humans and pick up cues so as to attempt to fit in. I spent the majority of my life masking, something I am only now finding out about and unraveling. I kept notes on the human experience, and saved colours, sounds, feelings, because I felt like I couldn’t communicate the truth of myself otherwise. Over the course of my life there have been inexplicable (until now) events. Lost friendships and relationships, strings of broken promises, people not acting on what they say, confusions and miscommunications, and many dangerous situations and predatory bonds. I made what sense I could of it from whatever lens I could find. It was the trauma, it was my soul contract, it was what I deserved, it was being targeted- all close, but not quite within the realm of being so naive, open and fundamentally different as you are on the spectrum. I just always assumed everybody was like me. I had to learn the very extremely hard way that not everyone felt and thought in the same way, nor had good intentions. I still struggle with the fact that humans don’t tell the truth. It is of no relevance whether they secretly know it. Most people are more comfortable with illusions. I always knew this, but the diagnosis gives me a lot more peace around it. It’s allowing me to accept the fact that if I look around the majority of the people I see are not walking around processing and over-analysing everything, feeling sounds, decoding patterns and obsessed with hacking the code of reality. Less pressure that way, and more in the way of what can be viewed as natural interaction on my part. I will solve the mystery of the universe out loud otherwise, and get the blank looks and the discomfort. I have found my people, a tribe of likeminded individuals, I have gathered friends over the years that didn’t run from my weirdness. But I am mostly content to be on my own, knowing that I can only use what is around me to try to convey how I feel and who I really am. And that will probably be a book, a movie or a work of art, much better than a 2pm rendezvous when I can’t stop talking about the hidden signs.

Emotional:

With the intensity of my emotions I have developed borderline personality disorder as a means to cope with being autistic and not knowing. I have been diagnosed with both that and bipolar because I have intense stints of emotions. They come and go in waves, lasting hours, lasting days and weeks. I consider it to be an energy management system to cope with the demands and stressors of modern day living. Creatives always withdraw and hibernate, and come out with new insights and art to share. The way that I feel and view the world is special. It’s at the basis of my writing, what I choose to engage with and how. My emotions make me who I am. I feel intensely, I share passionately about how I feel. I snap, I break, I shutdown, I come out again and I am a bright, shooting star. There is an excited little animal that lives within me and it is the strongest most passionate thing known to man. I thought that my negative experiences or trauma killed it, but this is before I knew it IS me and cannot die. So I have stopped trying to cram these emotions in or explain them. Stopped trying to attribute them to whatever script people were following when they dealt with me. Throwing me into the depressive, anxious, panic stricken, eating disordered basket case category. The missing piece now makes so much sense. The ways I responded to being autistic were coping mechanisms, such as developing a personality disorder, to deal with the pressure. My psyche splintered under the weight. My tip here is in embracing your inner life and world, embracing that you are different, so that all of the mental and emotional acrobatics needed to attempt to explain the issues or fit in can be put to rest.

Spiritual:

Being different and feeling differently means I naturally saw and expressed things in quite a strange way. I was convinced of a secret world to reality, behind reality, living on behind a paper shell, so to speak, that would rip if only I could reach out and tear it aside. That conviction was rewarded as year after year my awareness grew, my gifts multiplied, and the experiences I had revealed to me the hidden hand of god. There was very much design to the universe, a pattern, weaving through all things. And i was a part of it, not some discarded afterthought or simple byproduct that had no place. In the early years, I kept my convictions to myself, nursed them with experience. I died a thousand deaths in dark nights of the soul, crashing against the turf of my ignorance. I broke open, and everything I had been so sure of as a child was revealed to me again and again. I was convinced I had a purpose, I could feel the deep tides of human emotion and motion, could feel into the genetic sequence that had birthed me. I felt like an alien, but that slowly over time the map of my operation was being revealed to me. This is what it feels like so many years later to stand here and find out about being autistic and realise that how I felt in my soul all these years was real, and that I can begin to truly fulfill this mission now, to share my experience in words I know others will understand because they feel the same way too. It was the challenges that I never understood, while the gifts were the reason to stay alive. My message to myself and others now is that there is a point, a reason to persevere and understand yourself more. The suffering reveals so much of the true state of things, so that we can protect our tender hearts and build new things that honour who we really are, our souls. 

Resources, movies, literature to follow. I just wanted to share something of a summary now of my realisations since coming home to myself.

[crossoversfics]

Boy Genius (Chapter 1)

(Spencer Reid x Malcolm Bright)

Reid pushed open the clear glass doors to the BAU offices. There was a hurried air about the place, which was quickly made even more so when Garcia appeared at the top of the stairs waving him down.

“Reid! We have a case! Hotch wants us to meet him in the briefing room ASAP!”

“Coming!” He called back.

She nodded and shuffled/walked in her trademark fashion into the briefing. Reid noted that she was wearing her fuchsia pink lipstick as well as her most over the top dress with the sequins. Penelope liked to compensate for the evil that paid their bills with her extremely ‘vibrant’ wardrobe. The more she stood out the worse it was. He frowned to himself, the case must be bad.

Almost the moment he was through the door, Morgan grabbed his shoulder and leaned in, “Kid, we found him”. 

For the second time that day, Reid frowned, but he knew exactly to what Morgan was referring, “Dr. Arthur? How? We haven’t had a lead in almost five years.”

“NYPD just called,” Hotch answered for Morgan, “two new bodies were found in Grand Central”.

To be precise, the remains of two bodies were found,” Garcia wrinkled her nose as she clicked through the slides, “Two hours ago NYPD was called to Grand Central Station for a bomber threat. The caller did not identify himself but gave explicit instructions on the location of a bomb. When police arrived, they did not find a bomb, instead-.”

“They found two bodies that had recently been in an explosion,” JJ said softly looking at the images on the screen.

It was all Garcia could do to nod in reply.

Was there any sign of pre-mortem torture before the explosion?” Prentiss asked, a thoughtful expression came over her features.

Yes, and the ME was able to determine both victims were males but they are still waiting on ID’s”.

Reid noticed Garcia peeking at the plasma but quickly she closed her eyes again. He flipped through his paper folder, and noticed a small detail he hadn’t recognized previously, “This says that the teeth were removed?”

Yeah, I saw that too,” Rossi replied twisting his signet ring around his finger, “It says that the ME noted the teeth had been removed pre-mortem as well. What’s that about? Is this a part of the torture?”

“If this is Dr. Arthur it would go against his previous MO. He always left the victims’ faces untouched when he tortured them”. Morgan’s eyebrows knitted together as he spoke.

Hotch chimed in, “That’s the first thing we need to rule out. Five years is a long dormant period for any serial killer so this could be a copycat trying to impress him or is too inadequate to come up with an original MO. Wheels up in twenty.”

Everyone began exiting the room, but Garcia’s voice stopped them.

“Wait, wasn’t this the guy that alternated between bombing buildings and then torturing two men before blowing them up somewhere else? Isn’t that this guy?” She gulped a little as she spoke.

“Yes,” JJ nodded slowly, “Which means copycat or not we don’t have long before an actual bomb goes off.”

She locked eyes with Reid, and he saw the tension in her jaw. “I’m fine JJ,” he said as they walked out, “He won’t get away this time.”

“No he won’t,” Morgan agreed squeezing both of their shoulders, “This time we will bring him in.”

“You sure about that?” JJ’s voice held some very thinly veiled skepticism, “He completely fooled us last time around and it nearly got Spence killed.”

 “That was before,” Reid made sure his voice projected confidence, “Morgan is right. We’ll get him.”

“Atta boy,” Morgan clapped him on the back.

Reid smiled and separated from them to swing by his desk. He waited a moment and watched the others enter the elevators. Once the doors closed, he grabbed a key from under his desk and unlocked his filing cabinet. His fingers flew, knowing exactly what he was looking for. A thin envelope brushed against his fingertips. He pulled it out and stuffed it into his bag. After re-locking the cabinet and returning the key to its hiding place, he glanced around one more time as he stood and made his way to the elevators. It took a minute for an empty one to open. Finally, one did, and he stepped inside. Reid blew out a long-held breath once he was inside. No one had seen the envelope and it needed to stay that way for now.

                                                                ~

It had been almost three hours since the call about the bomb had come into the department. He could not understand for the life of him why the hell he was sitting in Gil’s office and not out at the crime scene. Malcolm felt a tingle in his right hand. He looked down and sure enough his tremor was back. Not noticeable to the untrained eye but to him it might as well have been a siren. He had been doing so well for months and one case was derailing all of his progress. He looked around, worried his mother might show up at that exact instant. She had an unnerving way of doing that. 

Closing his eyes, Malcolm focused on his breathing. He needed to relax, or he just needed a case. That always did the trick and one had landed so conveniently in his backyard. A soft click behind him alerted him to Gil’s presence and he shot out of his seat.

“Gil! Finally! Why didn’t you have me meet you at the crime scene? It looks like Dr. Arthur, which makes this a serial killer case. That’s my specialty.”

“Bright!” Gil held up a hand, “Calm down. We’ll head over to the scene in a minute. I just needed to talk to you about something first.”

Gil looked him over with one of his I-am-constantly-worried-about-you looks. Malcolm focused on controlling his hand. He couldn’t afford a tremor right now. Eventually, Gil seemed satisfied and walked around behind his desk and sat down. 

After a moment he spoke, “The brass caught wind that this could be Dr. Arthur and they called in the FBI.” He paused briefly, “I had no say in the matter.”

It was a while before Malcolm replied. He clenched and unclenched his jaw multiple times. At length he spoke, “Is this a matter of whether our team can handle the case or whether I can?”

“Kid, we are still working the case. That’s better than being taken of it entirely” Gil intertwined his fingers, “All I know is what they told me. The Behavioral Analysis Unit is the one we will be working with.”

“Gil, they couldn’t be more clear if they had written it on the wall. That’s an entire team of profilers!” He glared at the window overlooking the rest of the office. If he thought he needed to control the shaking before he had been sorely mistaken. “This is just their passive aggressive way of saying, how did JT put it, that I’m wack.”

Gil leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk, “They are working with us, not against us.” 

Malcom sighed and rubbed his left temple, “Gil, all due respect, you don’t know the FBI like I do. They probably already know about my unfortunate relations, and if they don’t they’re profilers.” He glanced sideways at his mentor.

Gil didn’t reply.

Malcolm felt a massive tremor coming on which was just what he did not need right now. He stood up and thrust his hand in his pocket, walking to the door. Before he opened it he looked back at Gil, “If you could not mention Dr. Whitly I would appreciate it. I’m tired of having to defend my sanity for the hundredth time.”

Gil nodded, “Kid-”

“I’m good.” Malcolm gave him a tired smile and walked out.

                                                                 ~

David Rossi smiled as he walked into the NYPD office. Aaron was right behind him as they stood in the entrance looking for someone in charge. Rossi had spent many hours in this building back when the BAU was just getting started and there was one face in particular that he was looking for.

“David Rossi?”

He turned to meet the voice and to his immense pleasure it was exactly who he had been hoping it was, “Gil Arroyo! It has been too long! How have you been?”

Gil smiled, “I’ve been good, and better now that you’re here. I had thought you’d retired?”

“Yes, but I found that writing about solving crimes doesn’t quite do the trick.” Rossi laughed, “It’s good to see you old friend.” Then he remembered why he was there, “Oh, forgive me, this is Aaron Hotchner our unit chief and a good friend of mine.”

Aaron stepped forward and shook Gil’s hand, “It’s good to meet you, I’ve heard many stories. I was told you are the leading investigator on the case?”

Rossi’s lips twitched upward slightly, leave it to Aaron to get right down to business. Gil was leading them to a conference room and relaying what he knew about the case.

“This is where we usually do our briefings, it should be big enough, although I had thought there were more of you.” He said looking at Rossi.

“There are. Agents Prentiss and Jareau are heading down to talk with your ME and Morgan and Reid are headed to the crime scene.” Aaron answered.

“Ahh well I have Detective Powell with the ME and Detective Tarmel at the crime scene so they should be introduced here shortly.” Gil said nodding.

As he was speaking, Rossi remembered something, “Hey, Gil didn’t you tell me you had your own profiler? I thought I remembered hearing he was some sort of prodigy.”

Gil smiled, “Yes, that would be Malcolm Bright. He’s our resident genius you might say.”

“Well maybe I can convince him to join the agency then.” He laughed.

Gil smiled again but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Rossi wondered at that but now wasn’t the time to ask. It was time to get to work.

[no-gays-in-russia]

Someone Has To Die: Review

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of suicide, murder, homophobia.

SPOILER ALERT: major spoilers for all three episodes of Someone Has To Die.

Introduction: Someone Has To Die (”Alguien Tiene Que Morir”) is a Spanish/Mexican miniseries of three 50 minutes long episodes set in the 50s which follows the story of Gabino, a young man who has just come back to Spain after living in Mexico with his mother’s family for 10 years. With him he brings his friend Lazaro, a Mexican ballet dancer. Soon, rumours start spreading that Lazaro and Gabino are in a relationship, fueled by Lazaro’s profession (everyone believes that a male ballet dancer must necessarily be gay) and by the intimacy between the two of them. However, Lazaro is straight and actually attracted to Gabino’s mom, Mina (spoiler: it’s mutual), while Gabino is in fact gay and has feelings of romantic nature towards Lazaro, despite them not being reciprocated. Although they are fake, those rumours keep growing, with the help of Cayetana, the girl that Gabino is supposed to marry and sister of Alonso. Alonso is an old friend of Gabino and it’s made clear throughout the show that before the latter left for Mexico something of homoerotic nature happened between the two of them, although it is never specified exactly what; long story short, Gabino is the only one to know that Alonso is also gay and let me tell you, homeboy has a shit ton of internalised homophobia. When the rumours reach their maximum height, Mina tries to help Lazaro and Gabino run away to Paris, but Gabino’s father, who works at a prison, finds out and, advised by his mother, gets Gabino arrested, while Lazaro is able to escape. Mina and Lazaro are then found having sex in the woods and that’s when chaos ensues- Gabino’s father wants to kill Mina and Lazaro, he tells Gabino to do so, Gabino refuses and points his shotgun at his father, his father points his gun at Gabino, then Alonso kills Gabino’s father, Gabino’s grandma kills Alonso and then Lazaro and finally Gabino kills his grandma. And that’s how the show ends. Another important element of the plot is that, while everyone believes Gabino’s grandpa died in a hunting accident, he was actually murdered by Gabino’s grandma, and young Gabino witnessed it (this is a big part of the reason why he was sent to Mexico shortly after); there’s also a subplot involving the family’s maid, quite significant because it leads to Gabino’s dad finding out the truth about his father’s death, but I don’t want to go into too much detail so I’ll stop here.

General opinion: after watching the masterpiece that is Young Royals (I will make a post on it soon), this struck me as a pretty average show; not bad, but not exceptional either (there are some great elements, but they are an exception). The acting is realistic but stiff, the characters are mostly unidimensional and sometimes unlikeable when they shouldn’t be, and the ending sort of leaves you thinking: what’s the point? The show as a whole is not meaningless at all (quite thoughtful and sensible at times, actually), but that’s what the ending feels like- everybody’s dead, now what? What does that mean? How was that significant to the plot? I liked Alonso killing Gabino’s father, because it shows that after all he cared for Gabino and was willing to help him, and I also liked Gabino killing his grandma, showing his strength and proving everyone who described him as fragile wrong, but I feel like Alonso and/or Lazaro should have been kept alive.

The characters: now, the characters are the most important thing in a tv show for me; if everything’s good but I hate the characters I cannot keep watching it, if everything’s horrible but I hate the characters I will keep watching it. The fact that I got through the entire show proves that they are not terrible, but I didn’t love them either. I will now analyse all of the main characters one by one, starting from Gabino. About Gabino, I noticed a discrepancy between the way he is described by other characters and the way he appears through his own actions and words. The adjectives that are most used to describe Gabino in the show are “dreamer” and “fragile”. Now, I’m not saying Gabino is not a dreamer, but since the other characters stress this aspect so much I would have expected his behaviour and words to demonstrate that much more than they actually did. And speaking of fragile, to me Gabino seemed the absolute opposite- I actually perceived him as an incredibly strong character. Throughout the entirety of the show he went through Hell so many times (got rejected by the man he loves, got beat up by Alonso, got put into jail by his own father, witnessed half of his family and closest friends dying in front of him) and he never gave up. He always responded with strength, murdering his grandma, not committing suicide when Alonso advised him to. However, this discrepancy might be caused by the fact that it had been 10 years since any of the other characters had last seen Gabino (although if I’m not mistaken Lazaro too describes him as a dreamer), so they might describe what they remember him as without realizing how much he’s changed throughout the years. But I still felt like in his case the show did too much telling and not enough showing. But now, let’s move onto the other character involved in the rumours: Lazaro. With Lazaro, I have a different issue: I felt as though he was supposed to be a likeable character, but I ended up really disliking him. At first we see him as a bit naive, a very good friend to Gabino, extremely passionate about dancing, a dreamer more so than Gabino (he repeatedly voices his fantasies about visiting Paris and getting to dance at the Opèra); but in the end, he proves himself as being selfish and unfaithful, as he literally has sex with Mina while Gabino is in prison. Your best friend has just been arrested and your first thought is to fuck his mom? And let’s not forget that Lazaro knew that Gabino loved him, so he knew this would hurt him even more. And when Cayetana pretends to offer to him to leave for Paris with her, he agrees- again, proving how little he cares about Gabino being in prison. He has some very good moments as well, including one of my two favourite scenes in the show, but my overall opinion on him is not positive. Now let’s talk about the three characters that we were actually supposed to perceive as negative: Cayetana, Gabino’s grandma Ampara and Gabino’s dad Gregorio. Cayetana’s sole personality trait is that of being evil- there doesn’t even seem to be a motivation behind her actions, she just does it because she is an a-hole. That’s pretty much the same with Ampara, with the small exception that she justifies her actions by saying it’s all for her family (hard to say whether she actually believes her own words or not). But in the end, both characters fail at being fascinating, meaningful villains: they’re plain and unidimensional. The case is a bit different for Gregorio: he’s overall a despicable character, but further traits are added so that he is not just a plain villain- he is a bad person, and that makes a big difference. In particular, I love that they make him a conflicted character, portraying the contrast between the pain he causes Gabino and the pain he himself feels realising how much he’s hurting his son. However, in my opinion, the best, most interesting and most lovable characters in the show are Alonso and Mina. Alonso may be interpreted as a negative character himself, but he sort of redeems himself towards the end. He does some very good things (killing Gregorio to protect Gabino, Mina and Lazaro), some very bad things (kidnapping Gabino and Lazaro, hurting Lazaro’s leg, beating Gabino almost to death) and some things that weren’t exactly good but which he did with good intentions (repeatedly advising Gabino to leave Spain forever, bringing him a gun while he’s in prison and advising him to kill himself). I think the only mistake they did was making him hurt Gabino and Lazaro in such a way, because they wanted him to be a redeemable and likeable character but honestly that was almost unforgivable. But at the same time I can see that Alonso’s violence on Gabino was the result of him taking his feelings towards Gabino (probably some feelings of romantic nature and jealousy towards his supposed relationship with Lazaro) and transforming them into something that he felt to be more acceptable and more manageable, and on top of that it was the manifestation of his disgust, fear, anger, frustration for his own homosexuality. All in all, Alonso is a very complex and conflicted character, sometimes submissive and others extremely corageous, good and bad, selfless and selfish. But if perfection was almost reached with Alonso, we move even closer to the perfect character with Mina- I want to slap her and hug her at the same time, and that’s what I love. Even more than Alonso, she is an incredibly complex character. I think she’s the main character more so than Gabino- so many interesting clues about her personality and her personal history are continously thrown around and you just want to know more and more about her. From her clearly feeling inadequate and different because she’s Mexican and leaving in Spain to her love story with Lazaro (who is Mexican like her- something to note), to the contrast between her desire to help others and her fragility which often makes it impossible, Mina is a well explored, multi-dimentional, lovable and despicable character.

My favourite scenes: finally, I want to discuss two scenes that I thought to be absolutely brilliant (if the entire show had been like those two scenes I would have considered it a masterpiece). The first takes place when Gabino and Lazaro are back home after Alonso’s attack; Lazaro is mending Gabino’s wounds, when the latter stops him and tells him he’s sorry for getting him involved. Lazaro replies he’s not done anything wrong, but Gabino states: <<I love you, and that’s the problem.>> Lazaro says: <<I love you too.>> and Gabino: <<But not in the same way.>> And that’s when Lazaro says the most beautiful line in the show: <<But I love you still, and that could never be wrong.>> That line equates platonic and romantic love, stating that despite them being two different kinds of love they are still exactly the same thing: love. So just like no one would ever say Lazaro is wrong for loving Gabino platonically, at the same time Lazaro states that no one could ever say Gabino is wrong for loving him romantically, because that’s exactly the same thing: love. And love is never wrong. The second scene takes place after Mina and Lazaro have been found together in the woods close to the club and Gregorio gets Gabino out of prison to take him there with him. Gabino is alone in his father’s car, Alonso sees him and goes to sit in the car with him. Alonso tells Gabino about how terrible he feels having to lie every day about who he really is, and then asks him to describe what it is like having sex with a man. Gabino tries to resist, but after Alonso begs him he gives in and recounts the first time he had sex with a man. Alonso is profoundly moved by his story and visibly tries to contain his emotions, but he fails, as tears start streaming down his face; then, once Gabino is done talking, he grabs the gun he’d given him in prison and tries to shoot himself. Gabino is able to stop him and Alonso breaks down crying, hugging Gabino while the latter promises him that they’re always going to be there for one another. Such a touching moment.

[onyxiana-is-obsessed]

Shinso realizing that his s/o is very sick and hid it from him. Later to find out that she died because of her not wanting to worry him

So ! I brought in another husband and I added in an OC ! Don’t mind that !!Length: 2.3kPronouns used: She/her

Your name: (f/n) ShinsouQuirk: (y/q) - preferably a dangerous quirkAge: 26

SAD HITOSHI UP AHEAD ! I’M WARNING YOU !!! TT^TT

Regrets

(f/n) frowned as she got the news from the doctor. Not long, huh? What was she going to tell her husband, Hitoshi?

“Please come back if your health gets worse, Mrs. Shinsou.” (f/n) nodded, looking down at her hands. (f/n) had been at the clinic for at least two hours now. She was supposed to meet her friend for lunch to talk about the situation afterward. After talking with her doctor for a few more minutes, she was on her way to meet her friend.

(f/n) had a rare disease, which was all thanks to her mutated quirk, (y/q). It was dangerous and there was no cure. If they had caught it in time, all they would’ve needed to do was take away her quirk. However, they were too late. The disease had started attacking her body, killing off her white blood cells and shutting down her nervous systems. The best part about all of it was that she felt no pain. As she got weaker and weaker, closer to her death, there was no suffering. That was thanks to her quirk.

“You know,” (f/n)’s friend, Yana started as the two sat at a cafe. “There’s… someone that can help.” (f/n) looked up at her.

“What? Who?” Yana seemed hesitant, looking away in the distance. It was a bright and sunny day, the perfect weather for a picnic, or even just a day out.

“Do you… remember years ago, Izuku, Mirio, and Tamaki were part of a raid, Uravity, Froppy, and Kirishima too.” (f/n) looked at her, slightly confused but nodded regardless. “They attacked the Shie Hassaikai.”

“Right, how could I forget?”

“The villain they fought that day… Overhaul.” Her voice was low and (f/n) almost thought she misheard. When she saw the look in her friend’s eyes, her own widened.

“You’re n-not s-saying-”

“You’re not going to survive, (f/n). There’s no other way for you to be saved now, except this.”

“How is he supposed to help anyway? I thought he lost his quirk!” (f/n) whisper-yelled.

“He agreed to work with the heroes, he agreed to give them every piece of information on any villain he knew off. After proving himself, they granted him one request and it was to get his quirk back. Eri rewound him, just like she did with Mirio.”

“This is the dumbest story I’ve ever heard. I don’t care whether it’s true, I don’t want a villain’s help! I’d rather die-”

“Don’t say it!” Yana argued, glaring at (f/n), tears brimming her blue eyes. “D-don’t s-say that… i-if not for yourself o-or me, do it f-for Toshi. Do it for your husband. He d-doesn’t even know what you’re going through. You could just up and die one day and how am I supposed to tell him about this? How do I begin to explain that you lied to him? How you lied to your own husband. How you chose to disregard his feelings and not trust him with something so important. How would you feel, (f/n)? How would you feel knowing he hid something like this from you?” (f/n) frowned, looking away.

How would she feel? How would she feel knowing that he hid something so serious from her? She didn’t want him to worry. (f/n) didn’t want Hitoshi treating her like a sick patient, even though that’s exactly what she was. She didn’t want him limiting her to anything, she didn’t want him to hover over her, treating her as if she was made of glass. She wanted him to enjoy every moment with her to the fullest, without regrets. He already had so much to deal with… So, she chose to lie.

But Yana was right. Hitoshi would no doubt be broken- shattered to pieces- when he would find out she never told him. He would feel so alone and inadequate, but… she couldn’t. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

So what about Yana’s suggestion? Getting help from a villain… she’d heard plenty from her friends, especially Izuku about Overhaul. Eri was the daughter of the leader of the Yakuza. He’d torn her apart only to reconstruct her to do it again. How would she feel going out and getting help from him?

“Think about it,” Yana said, taking a sip of her drink to calm herself. “Don’t do it for us, don’t do it for you, whatever. But do it for Hitoshi. After everything he’s been through, he deserves this. He… deserves you alive and well in his arms.”

**

Yana’s words hadn’t left (f/n)’s mind. Even as she sat alone in her house blankly staring at the TV, which was playing some sort of movie, she thought back to her words. Overhaul… could help her.

But did she want his help? Overhaul’s help? Desperate times did call for desperate measures, but that’s not what she wanted. She was the proud wife or a pro hero. How could she… get help from a villain? It felt like she’d dishonor him doing something stupid like that.

“Why… was I born with this quirk?” Hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks, sliding all the way down to her chin then dripped onto her lap. No one wished to be quirkless, no one. People usually liked their quirk and here (f/n) was, wishing she never had one. She’d rather be quirkless than have this ticking time bomb of a quirk.

She laid down, her (e/c) eyes staring at the TV as she continued to cry. What was she going to do? How was Hitoshi going to manage without her? How was she supposed to prepare him without telling him about her impending death? How was he going to cope knowing the truth behind it all?

As she drowned herself in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the front door click open. She didn’t even hear her husband call out to her. (f/n) was pulled out of her thoughts when he kneeled in front of her, a look of worry plastered on his face.

“What’s wrong?! What happened?!” Seeing his beautiful face, those gorgeous lilac eyes, his handsome features, that cute little nose, his soft, pink lips all made it worse. (f/n) threw herself into his arms, letting her emotions flow free.

Hitoshi held (f/n) tightly, moving to sit on the sofa, with her in his lap. He gently raked his hands through her hair in an effort to help soothe her worries.

After half an hour or so, (f/n) finally felt stable enough to talk. Hitoshi had gotten her some water while she gathered her thoughts.

“It’s just one of those days.” She lied, taking small sips. He nodded understandingly. His hero career came with plenty of those days, so instead of pushing the subject further, he opted to help her relax.

To take her mind off of it, he prepared a meal for them both then the two spent the entire day cuddling on the couch watching all the movies she’d wanted to.

Hitoshi was too good for (f/n). No matter what, he was always by her side, supporting and comforting her in any way she needed. It made her want to accept Yana’s proposal. Hitoshi was a good man and he did deserve everything he wanted. If he wanted (f/n), then she’d be more than happy to grant his wish. But… getting help from the enemy? That was something… she couldn’t do.

***

As the days went on, (f/n)’s condition grew worse. Physically she looked fine, she felt no pain. But she was weaker. She found herself sleeping more, she found it hard to do anything. Small cuts that she’d get would last weeks, she would get sick more often and stay sick longer.

Hitoshi didn’t suspect a thing as she’d gotten her doctor to lie to him, which took a lot of convincing. These rough, hard weeks, (f/n) couldn’t get Yana’s suggestion out of her mind. There were days where she scoffed at the idea, but there were also days where she almost called Yana and accepted the offer.

(f/n) tried to stay strong and she managed to do it. However, in the next few days, she’d sorely regret her decision.

Hitoshi had to leave for a few days, which were extremely hard on (f/n), who knew her death drew closer. Yana was there, helping her every single day doing her best to try to convince (f/n) to go see Overhaul. (f/n) refused.

“(f/n)!” Yana yelled as she ran to her friend, who’d collapsed onto the floor. Yana helped her onto the couch and gently helped her drink some water. “P-please,” Yana tried again. “Please listen to me! Let’s go see Overhaul! All of this would end with-”

“NO!” (f/n) argued with what little strength she had left.

“Are you serious?! You’re aren’t going to make it, (f/n)! I’d be surprised if you made it long enough for Hitoshi to come home! Why are you being so stubborn?!”

“I can’t! Overhaul is a villain! He’s a monster and Hitoshi would hate me for going to hi-”

“Hitoshi could never hate you! He’s head over heels for you! But he would be furious. Not for going to Overhaul, but for lying about your disease and dying! Without even telling him! How are you ok with this?! This is the dumbest argument I’ve ever had to have!”

“You wouldn’t understand…”

“I would! I would understand! Because I know if my husband was sick and dying, I’d want to know! And if there was some way to fix him, I’d take it! No matter the reason!”

It didn’t matter. Yana’s efforts were in vain because (f/n) was stubborn. She wouldn’t budge and none of Yana’s strategies worked.

But now, right now, (f/n) desperately wished she’d listen to Yana. Hitoshi had returned home, only to find (f/n) worse than when he left her. He’d taken care of her all that day and when they got ready to go to bed, her body gave up.

She collapsed, making him run to her. Her body was done, it could no longer fight and it didn’t seem like it wanted to fight anymore. It couldn’t, her disease had taken over.

“Baby! Wh-what’s wrong?!” (f/n) was barely able to keep her eyes open, her breathing was labored, but she didn’t fail to catch that look in his eyes. Fear. Fear of what was happening, fear of this unknown condition, fear of not being able to help, fear of losing her. “I-it’ll be ok! D-don’t worry!” It really seemed like he was trying to convince himself instead of her.

Hitoshi grabbed his phone and immediately called for an ambulance. As he waited on the line, he gave the operator an answer for every single question, throwing some words of encouragement to (f/n). It didn’t matter, there wasn’t anything they could do. Slowly, (f/n)’s eyes closed, but she could still hear Hitoshi.

“N-no! B-baby! Kitten! P-please ope-open those eyes! Open your beautiful (e/c) eyes for me! Do-don’t do this! Don’t leave me, please don’t go!” He could feel her pulse getting weaker and weaker and so was her breathing. Hitoshi put the phone down but had it on speaker, telling the operator any new information.

His heart sped up and dread built up in his chest at seeing his wife, the love of his life, slipping away from him. He held her tightly against his chest, in some pathetic effort to keep her close to him. He was terrified if he’d let go… if he let go…

“T-Toshi…” She whispered.

“Don’t leave me! I-I c-can’t s-survive wi-with-without you! Do-don’t do this to me!” He sobbed, tears fleeing his eyes and landing on her chest, sliding down her soft skin. “Stop it, (f/n)! Just lo-look at me! For the love of God, open your eyes and look at me! You can’t leave me! You can’t leave me, you fucking promised! I-I do-don’t know what to do,” His voice cracked and for once he felt so helpless.

Hitoshi was a pro hero, but he’d never felt so weak before. His wife was dying, what happened? Nothing made sense, it didn’t make sense. What happened? She was fine and then she randomly started to get so sick… now she was dying?

“P-please d-don’t go,” He begged. “I-I don’t kn-know what to do… wh-what do I-I do k-kitten?” His hands ran through her hair as he pressed gentle kisses against her cheeks. “I l-love you s-so much. I need you, (f-f/n). So, l-look at me. I’m b-begging, baby. J-just look at me. Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

She regretted being so stubborn now. Yana was right. Hitoshi would be heartbroken. Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to cope without her, he’d lose himself, he’d lose the ability to keep going. Why didn’t she listen? Why was she so against letting Overhaul help her?

She so desperately wanted to take him into her arms, telling him that it was all ok. That everything would be ok, that there was no need to cry. (f/n) so desperately wanted to comfort her husband… but she couldn’t.

Out of all the things Hitoshi deserved, this wasn’t one of them. Hitoshi Shinsou deserved better. She should’ve listened to Yana. Not only was she being punished for ignoring her friend’s warnings, but she was also punishing her husband, who didn’t deserve any of it. What for? Nothing. She got nothing for doing what she did. Well, actually she did.

(f/n) got a broken beyond repair husband. Who would now have to deal with her death because she was too cowardly to tell him or get help?

As she felt herself being pulled into the dark abyss, she only wondered how Hitoshi would’ve felt if she’d gotten help from Overhaul. Her mind went to the villain and she pathetically begged for him to magically appear in her home to save her. For Hitoshi. She felt her body move but was unable to comprehend what it was. Hitoshi was saying something… thanking someone? It… It didn’t matter.

Who could help her now?

[deans-baby-momma]

Rebel Without A Cause- Ch 16

A/N: For those of you who didn’t get to see the NSFW document that I can not post on Tumblr, here is the link for that. 

Dean Winchester is a certified goddamn asshole! Plain and simple. He had been cognizant of how she had been treated growing up, yet he still used her for his own entertainment. What Maggie had thought was a connection and sweet intimacy had just been another way for him to have his fun. Maggie had felt loved, cherished, and treasured when what conspired between them was nothing but carnal coitus, pure fornication. Him allowing that man, the drummer of the band, to watch as they had sex was more than Maggie could handle.

She isn't a prude, although some might think she is from her style and behavior, but knowing that there had been an audience when she was at her most vulnerable is unsettling; him knowing that they were being watched, painful. 

The tears flowed the whole way back to her motel and as soon as she gets into her room she stripped her clothing, planning to burn the offending garments and takes a shower with the water as hot as she could stand. Maggie scrubs until her skin is raw, all the while the tears keep streaming down her face. She swears that she’s going back to work, telling Mr. Singer that she isn't able to get the story he wants, and if she loses her job then so be it.

ONE MONTH LATER

Maggie’s cell rings again for the thousandth time in a week. She refuses to answer, knowing who’s on the other end.

Since her story had been published, her phone rang constantly. Publishers of other daily and weekly magazines offering jobs and positions at their facilities. She had been answering those and politely declining the proposals. But then this one number kept calling; it was one she had happily-at the time- added to her contact list. Now, she regretted ever exchanging that information with Dean fucking Winchester.

She silences her phone and goes back to typing up her article for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert she had attended just the night before. After he got her feature story on the Winchester Sex Bombs, Mr. Singer had begun giving her editorials and feature pieces for entertainment expositions that were more her preference. Each article had received high praise from the public and Mr. Singer decided to keep her on staff. 

He claimed not to be upset with the review on the Connecticut concert that she had turned in, but Maggie could tell her boss was not too happy with the picture that she had painted with her harsh words.

Jessica, the receptionist for the Ft. Garrison News, knocks on the wall before entering Maggie’s cubicle. “Hey,” the blonde says, smiling. 

“Hey, Jess,” Maggie acknowledges. “What’s up?” She takes a moment to look up from her tablet to see the blonde holding a stack of notes. 

Jessica Moore was working while going to college to become a personal injury lawyer, which Maggie found out over coffee in the breakroom one day. She had spoken to Jessica when she went to refill her cup and was feeling out of place since Jo was no longer speaking to her. 

After her story had been written up, Maggie had asked Jo to go out for drinks and in a drunken rage, had told her everything- even about catching the drummer getting off to them,  causing Jo to get extremely jealous and had quit speaking to her. 

“These are yours,” Jess tells her as she hands the stack of notes to Maggie. “Some guy keeps calling for you. He doesn't leave a message, just says you know who he is and to please call. He’s been calling every hour for days.”

Maggie takes the papers and places them on her desk. “Thanks, Jess. I’ll call as soon as I’m done here.”

Maggie glares at her phone as the ringtone fills the air. She knew he wasn’t going to give up until she answered so she took a sip of coffee and picked the device up, sliding the little green arrow across the screen.

“Margaret Fitzgerald speaking.”

“Mags, sweetheart,” Dean’s voice glides through the earpiece. “You are one hard woman to get ahold of.” She could hear the smile in his speech. She also knew that she was about to take that smile right off his face.

“What do you want, Dean?”

“A chance to talk, to apologize. I fucked up. I know I did. Just give me a chance to explain.”

“So explain. Tell me why you thought it’d be a good idea to let your drummer watch us while we had sex?”

“That isn’t a conversation for the phone, sweetheart.”

His voice echoed as Maggie looked up to see Dean standing in front of her, his phone still held to his ear. She lowered her phone, turning it off and stared at him. She couldn’t believe he had come all this way just to talk to her. Dean slides his phone into his pocket and sits down in the chair across from her and put his elbows on the table between them.

“What do you want, Dean?” Maggie asks, exasperated. She can’t believe he has actually traveled all this way to come to talk to her.

Before Dean answers though, a female voice rings out. “Oh. My. God. You’re Dean Winchester!”

Maggie looks over to the entryway of the break room to see Jo practically vibrating with excitement. She rolls her eyes as Jo makes her way to their table, adjusting her shirt to pull the top down a little lower. “Hi,” she says as she comes to a still next to Maggie.

“Hello,” Dean says, clearly annoyed that they had been interrupted. But then he straightens up and puts a fake smile on his face. Although he is wearing sunglasses Maggie is sure that his dark olive eyes are full of irritation. She hides her amusement at his discomfort behind her mug. 

Jo’s apparent display of fangirlism thrills Maggie as she watches her co-worker try her damnedest to keep Dean’s attention but the lead singer only has eyes for Maggie. After getting an autograph and a one-armed hug, Jo retreats from the break room but not before throwing an envious look over her shoulder at Maggie.  

“So, sweetheart,” Dean grabs her attention. “Can we talk about that rather unflattering piece you put out about my band?” 

Maggie sits her coffee mug onto the table and leans forward. “First off, I ain’t your sweetheart. Secondly, everything I said in that article was the truth. I’m sorry that I’m not one of your groupies who just overlooks your blatant disregard for others and will just spout out praise and compliments. Yea your music is good, I said that in my piece but the actions afterward overshadow everything on stage.”

“Swee-Mags….what will it take to change your mind? What can I do?”

“There is absolutely nothing you can do, Dean,” Maggie says, leaning forward onto the table. “You let him watch us!” she angrily whispers. “You knew I had issues with my self-awareness. You know my mom and Lisa chipped away my dignity. You heard their condescending remarks, you saw how it affected me but you still let your friend witness what I thought was something private, something personal between us. So no, there is absolutely nothing you can do to make me retract my story. If that is the only reason you came all this way, then I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

Dean leans forward and whispers,”And what if I tell you Lisa is the reason that I no longer have sex with just one person?”

Maggie balks at that. Is he trying to get her pity? Using her contention with her sister as a way to weasel out an explanation? She shakes her head and sits back, crossing her arms.

“Dean, don’t,” she says, the tears she is so desperately trying to cover evident. “Don’t say that. Don’t use that as an excuse. You two were in love. I saw it every day. I saw how you looked at her. How can you say that she’s the reason for-”

“This is not a conversation for the workplace break room. Maggie, let me take you out tonight. I’ll buy whatever you want and I will explain to you exactly how Lisa Braeden manipulated me too.”

“Mags, she condemned everything,” Dean reveals as they are waiting for their orders. Maggie had agreed to go out with Dean because she was curious about how Lisa had played Dean; how she had used his inexperience and gullibility to cause him to become who he is today. Having sex with multiple partners at the same time, being allowed to be observed while doing it.  

“Every time we….we had sex, she complained about it. I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t satisfy her needs. Hell, she told me that my dick wasn’t big enough. She made me feel inadequate, like I was unworthy. So after we broke up, I swore that I would always have back-up. I would have someone else there to pick up the slack. I know that sounds horrible and obnoxious but in my juvenile brain, I believed her. She was my first and she was telling me that I was disappointing. It sure is a blow to the ego. I thought we were making love but she just wanted a decent fuck,” he stammers, a hand running across the back of his neck. “16-year-old me didn’t know what making love was. Hell, 26-year-old me didn’t know until a month ago. Maggie, what you and I did in that room was making love. I’m sorry that I ruined it by letting Benny in. Old habits are hard to break, I guess.”

Maggie understood all too well the effect of Lisa’s mockery and satire better than anyone. Lisa had began making fun of Maggie when she was 9 and Maggie was 7 and it only got worse once Lisa found out that she wouldn’t be disciplined for it; hell, even her own mother had joined in on the ridiculing.

“Dean, I’m sorry you went through that,” Maggie sincerely admits. She can truly empathize with Dean because she had also been on the receiving end of Lisa's humiliation. “Let me be the first one to say though that you have no problems in that area. I was completely and utterly satisfied and fulfilled. You sure know what you’re doing in that department,” Maggie mutters as she feels a blush bloom on her cheeks. 

@pink1031​ @spnbaby-67​ @winecatsandpizza​ @joseyrw​ @kricketc28​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @sandlee44​ @michellethetvaddict​ @lyarr24​

[amelia-pinches]

a very long rant about Patricia Williamson

I also have something written about the overall thematic themes for each season and their significance that I was gonna post first, but I can’t finish it because my mind keeps going back to this.

Before I begin with all the negatives I have to say about what the writers did to her, I would like to state that she is my favorite character. Patricia was the first character that I truly resonated with as a kid, and I still do to this day. However, I can’t ignore how her character development was cut for plots sake, and how so much of her personal story is so incomplete. I feel like the writers used her as a leg to lean on whenever they needed drama, or a simple fix. Granted, she has more backstory than other characters like Fabian or Amber. Nonetheless, for Patricia, something about her personal story feels off to me. Maybe it's because I see myself so much in her that I have a personal bias for her closure, but I like to think I am so invested because I feel as if she had so much unused potential. 

Starting off with S3, we see a new Patricia compared to the previous seasons. Her hair has changed, and her style seemingly has matured  HOA has used a style change to symbolize a personality shift. In S2, Alfie acknowledged his style change representing a personality change, as he stated it was a new year for a new Alfie. Granted, he said he changed his style for Amber, but I think he changed it to feel better about himself. Getting Amber gave him the confidence he didn’t necessarily have before, and in S2 we see him standing up for himself more often than he did in S1, and he was more assertive in S2 compared to S1. In season 3, Joy said the reason for her style change was for the same reason: to find a new Joy. In fact, Joy’s style change was an important part of her arc in S3. She was letting go of her old self, and really letting go of the past she desperately tried to recreate in S2. She updated her style -”its Joy, but a new Joy”- and her style was a reflection of her personality shift; Joy, but matured. 

Yet, with Patricia, we didn’t see that change that should have happened. If anything, her personality regressed to S1. I personally don’t think that Patricia at the end of S2 would have treated KT with such cruelty that she did; I definitely think that she would have not liked her and her jealousy could have caused some rude comments. It is S1 Patricia that would have had no issue treating KT how she did, but S2 Patricia would have held back. S1 Patricia was angry, and in S2, we see her less angry and more reserved. I like to think that after the events of S1 and throughout S2, she rethought her beliefs and morals. In S3, we should have seen her act on these new found morals, but instead she resorted back to that anger from S1. I remember watching S3 and waiting for that moment where everything clicks, yet that never happened.  We never got an explanation to her any of her behavior in S3. We know she is extremely jealous, but why? Jealousy has its roots with deep seated issues. I don’t believe her jealousy is caused by not trusting Eddie, but rather something internal. I’m pretty sure that its been accepted due to her feeling inadequate in her family life which transfers to every other part in her life. Only problem is we never get any actual confirmation to this. We don’t get much confirmation about her character in the show actually. We know what we can assume, but it's still up for debate. Patricia’s character fluctuates so greatly that it's so hard to pinpoint who she is, or what she wants. 

Throughout the show, Patricia is disconnected from everyone else around her. Even when she does connect, it's not really a full connection. The only time where I think where she had a true vulnerable connection with someone is Alfie in S1. Other than that, all of the other instants where she is supposedly connecting with someone, she is still holding back. There is always a wall between her and everyone else. While Eddie does break a majority of those walls, he still hasn’t broken all of them. They never have a point where they talk about all of their problems and resolve them. I would like to note that I am a huge Peddie fan, and it is my OTP, however it does a lot of issues that I can’t ignore. Communication is Peddie’s weakest area, but there was no shown effort in resolving it. They don’t sit down and try to listen to each other or just say what's wrong, despite how hard it is. They have a couple of cute one-liners, but that still doesn’t fix the root of the problem. Then with Joy, their relationship starts to slowly drift apart in S2. Joy is trying to overcompensate for the previous year, and Patricia doesn’t know how to comfort her in a way that was needed. Consequently, red flags were ignored, and their friendship began to dissolve. Thus in S3, it is so obvious that they are no longer best friends, and they are just friends. Nevertheless, I have the feeling that even before the start of the show, Patricia didn’t 100% connect with Joy. Yes, they had great chemistry (and probably were gay for each other on some level), but Patricia held back. After all, Joy didn’t know Eddie was Patricia’s first kiss, which tells me that Patricia never talked about personal things like relationships. Joy knows Patricia very well, but that wall is still there. 

We also never really get to see Patricia shine, per se. Yes, she had some important moments, but those were all in support of the plot. Even with Eddie, her part felt more like aid to his character development than hers. I really wish we got to see a moment where she was the main focus, even if it was a small moment. The show has all this buildup for her own moment, and it never happens. With the moments that are supposed to be “hers”, they fall flat or are so lackluster that they are barely anything.  All of her moments are for support of other characters. She mainly stays in the back, hidden unless she is needed. I think the best example of this is her relationship with Piper. It was resolved so quickly without going into detail about anything. (I’ll go into how the Piper-Patricia story-line was so undeserving and unimpressive later.) I feel like the drama with Piper was merely there so it could transition to Eddie’s secret being exposed. Basically, the parts where it should be about her and her character are misused in order to fulfill a plot line, rather than to fulfill herself.

I want to address the whole Patricia-Piper thing. I don’t know what to call it to be honest.. Aside from the fact how their relationship dynamic would have been great for Patricia’s character, their relationship dynamic should have been in the show simply because it would have been something people could have looked up or related to. I don’t have siblings, so sibling relationships confuse me to death. Still, they intrigue me tremendously. Youtuber, Ladyknightthebrave, talked about Hollywood's depiction of siblings in her video essay about Fleabag (I strongly recommend watching this if you have seen Fleabag because honestly it's so great). In it she describes how Hollywood loves brother-brother or brother-sister relationships, but sister-sister relationships are rarely shown in a light that is meaningful. I can’t help but agree with her, even though I don’t have siblings of my own. There are plenty of examples of brother-brother or brother-sister relationships in the media that are done so well and are so familiar to people, despite having a brother or not. I personally feel like that sister-sister relationships are done in a manner that's so simplified. With that said, Poppy-Jerome’s relationship goes into great detail; we can really see the dynamic and issues of their relationship. We see how they need each other as brother and sister and how they support each other. Yet, Patricia and Piper’s relationship was so downplayed. Their “big moment” where they try to connect with one another and try to understand each other was  “‘I’m jealous of you because ___.’ ‘Well I’m jealous of you because___.’”, and that's it. It was abrupt and crude. There was no depth to their conversation, and if given the necessary depth, I truly think almost everyone could have related to their relationship. I just feel the audience, as well as Patricia, deserved that connection. Like, Patricia didn’t evolve from this. She remained the same as before. It didn’t affect her facade at all. After it was over, it was like it barely happened.

In the entirety of the show, we see Patricia through her facade. Sometimes, we can see cracks in it, but in the end, we never see her drop her act completely. When she seemingly does, it is practically nulled later on. Patricia’s words go against all of her actions constantly. Despite the fact that she has all the ideals of rebellion, unless you count Joy’s search as an act of rebellion, we never see her actually rebel for her own purpose. When she rebels or speaks out, it's for sibuna’s agenda, not her own. She told Piper to “dare to fail” even though we have never seen her do this. In fact, we have never seen her succeed either. We see what she wants us to see. HOA really should have had at least one point where her facade breaks, and the audience gets see what she is really thinking and what she really wants. It is not like they couldn’t fit it in because I could think of plenty of times where that moment would have fit in perfectly or even better than what was given.

I really don’t think the HOA writers and producers put much thought into the overall effect and really used her a way to make the plot continue in an easy way. I do understand why they did it - to a certain extent. The show is made for kids, and kids usually don’t really care about character development or arc. However, I think Patricia’s character could have been such a significant character for kids. Like I said, I relate to Patricia a lot, and I think others do as well. I also think if she had some sort of defining character arc, her character could have spoken to many people, young and old. There’s something so relatable about her, even with the lack of a defining arc. I feel like her character had so much potential, and HOA really missed a chance at creating a character so iconic. But in the end, there was no fluent character development. This leads her to feel like a more relatable side character at times viruses a main character.

[mcybebailey]

ʻ   / wow ,   i am so excited  to introduce bailey pyo   to  our current  students at cape  coral . she is  extremely  excited to  join the film club .   coming  in as an  21  year  old freshmen ,  they  shouldn't  worry about  fitting in .   the cis female  taurus   has  always  reminded  me of park sooyoung  , but  some people  don't see it .   trying to keep the  fact that she has dropped out of three different colleges in the past few years and her parents used their connections to obtain the scholarship   from  getting  around this  school is going  to be tough . no  worries , though ,   cape coral will create  a new life for them , i  assure you . ʼ 

hi!! omg hi everyone i’m jala (gmt +8) wow i’m so excited to be here wow i’ve been lurking on this group for so long and i took the chance to apply once i saw it. this is my quiet bub who’s Trying(TM) and i have her somewhat complete bio HERE but under the cut is a bit of a sparknotes version and some connection ideas to help with plotting hopefully (and i’ll have a proper wanted connections page up soon) - but really i’m up for all the plots!

STATS

full name: bailey yerin pyo

nickname(s): bay, bays, pyo

birthdate: 20th april 1999 (taurus)

hometown: san francisco, california / moved to portland when she was 10

gender: cis female

pronouns: she/her

languages: english, korean

orientation: graysexual biromantic

major: (eventually) media studies, with a literature minor

faceclaim: park sooyoung (joy)

distinguishable features: soft & sleepy like eyes, a beauty mark on her nose, a nick on the left side of her jaw

aesthetic: worn out sneakers, naps under the warm sun, surprising tenacity, oversized flannels, band-aids plastered on the skin, postcards meticulously stuck on walls, blending into the background, weathered copies of books, quiet but not blind, soaking in the bathtub until the water goes cold, long raven-coloured hair, smelling faintly of lavender.

( - ) blunt, anxious, lazy, stubborn, cynical, cannot handle pressure, selfish, quiet, insecure, overthinker 

( + ) tough, observant, warm, perceptive, poised, mature, headstrong, creative, quirky

THINGS TO KNOW

[ tw for mentions of anxiety disorders ]

bailey’s a scholarship student! by not so honest means but she’s genuinely doing pretty good since she’s actually putting in effort into making sure her life is in Check. she’s by no means a teachers pet, and just in general doesn’t... bring much attention to herself.

genuinely kind of has a talent for blending into the background and disappearing from situations she doesn’t want to be in - which really has helped as much as it’s damaged her young life. she’s mousy and quiet by default, usually reading or writing a whole bunch.

likes to nap in between classes in quiet and/or strange corners on campus as she progressively finds them. she likes to say she has a talent for sleep, which really it’s impressive how quickly she can sleep and how she can w wake up from naps at the right times

really, she’s trying this time to be more social and make friends. she’s put herself off from it for so long that she figures it’s time you know? it’s not like she has any particular difficulty with it (unless it’s in a large group setting ie: in front of classrooms then... whew) - bailey is genuinely a warm person when talked to albeit maybe a tiny bit blunt. she just happens to be in her own head a lot.

that being said she’s extremely calm - almost too calm that’s it’s really a way she copes to try and not be anxious constantly. it works, for the most part, thankfully and it’s been keeping her stable enough mental health wise. keeps her from any more college-dropping-out-inducing incidents with her anxiety. (that being said she’s Big Anxiety internally)

kind Notices things very easily. she’s an observer and have been since she was younger but since becoming quieter as she’s grown, it’s just become more heightened. it’s not like she voices out these things willynilly, but she likes to keep these things in mind. makes for good inspo when she’s writing tbh. 

her family fits snugly into the upper middle class tbh!  she has two younger sister, one who’s doing pre-medicine in an ivy league school, so a lot of the family funds are going into paying for that sister’s college. also her past of dropping out really has her parents not trusting her anymore - which was why she ended up in parker community college in the first place.

she’s really... like straight edge, completely by choice! she’s genuinely not interested in drinking or drugs it’s just not her thing? (she’s got enough on her plate tbh) she is trying to be more social and is trying to go to parties but she’s just been Struggling tbh it’s not really her scene? also partly why she is not that Experienced compared to her peers in intimate matters? the closest she’s had is a couple of “almosts” from high school that ended up going nowhere

a ho for all kinds of media - she’ll talk your head off about the things she’s watching/reading if ever explicitly given the chance. 

SONGS

i just by red velvet - that smidgen of hope, of (trying to) leave all past troubles and actually try now. the mindset bailey is trying to get into now that she’s in cape coral and moving on with her life! her attempt at being a proper adult now and for her to just leave the past behind. the contrast of the driving edm with the heavy-ish lyrics also feels like it’s very bailey in terms of her mind and thoughts.

busted & blue by gorillaz - the song's feel captures bailey’s vibe overall, it’s chill, slightly downer in tone, but has a hint of hope as well within the words. the lyrics, too, feel like they were written in her voice. kind of similar to how she’d write a poem, for example, especially during her very tumultuous period of life when she was in and out of school and truly starting to understand herself. It’s less a song that relates to her and more a song that emulates her in some ways.

class of 2013 by mitski - really explains her confusion and hesitance to grow into adulthood. it’s something she’s felt that she’s not suited for but life really doesn’t care about how she feels so she’s going to keep growing. so she ends up trying to cling on to years past even if there’s really nothing there for her anymore.  It’s really not helped by her rather poor mental health and the song doubles down on that feeling of progressively feeling more and more inadequate.

SOME LIGHT INSPIRATIONS: azusa nakano (k-on!), michelle (mcu spiderman), kat stratford (10 things i hate about you), eva kviig mohn (very early skam season 1), haruhi fujioka (ouran)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone who just kinda sees her y’know? probably a person who’s found her weird spots and they’re slowly like beginning to share these spaces and such. which would partly weird her out because she’s been so used to just making herself not be seen and has been very successful doing it for so long. but it’s obvious she likes it and wants this person around more.

pre-scholarship parker community college friend(s)! bailey would’ve definitely started Trying when she got to parker so possibly someone she grew close with then and them getting the scholarships together would’ve been great for bay because she’s not alone again lmao

old friends from when they were younger? maybe family friends? her dad has a pretty large reach tbh so it’s possible she would’ve accidentally known some people from even before this. 

someone to try and get her out more and Live A Little. can be ~corrupting~ her or a bad influence, but mostly just someone to drag her out of her room and be daring and bold! she can at the same time, be a calming presence for them to just chill out with her 

a crush! a few crushes! a flirtation! bailey crushes really easily tbh but she also gets over them just as quick so however you’d want to play it out i’m up for that!

ooOOH someone who’s very forward in flirting with her and bailey actually gets super flustered? like she just wouldn’t know how to deal with it and she’s not sure if she likes it or not (probably likes it a lot). but she’s just not used to this kind of attention that it throws her off big time.

a work out buddy lol she’s been pretty successful with consistently doing weekend jogging/walking so something could be built from there?

honestly any of the above can be combined with each other but either way: all the plots! gimme i would love theeemmmmmmm allll - frienships, romantic ships, antagonistic stuff, ALL OF IT.

[impertinentleft]

And She Ought Suffer What She Must?

Just because she works with her hands? Just because she works in the skies? Just because she works out of sight? Just because she works with guys? Just because she works in the spotlight? She ought suffer what she must? No factory floor, no mile high, no shop floor, nor trade plied. She must not.

First with the bow in her hair, then the colour of her dress, then the row of dolls she’s given, then the words of her Aunt Bess, and the hands of her Uncle, then her mother’s cooking, and her father’s rage. Then the roles she’s given, then the magazines and the banners, and the movies and the ads. Then the words and the shame.

It does not detract from others’ suffering when we see hers. We must stand for her, in every case. From one bears all – the whole is built from smaller parts. What’s evil permeates not just the worst but much of the mundane.

It’s not okay. It’s not okay in public, it’s not okay in private, near or far, wherever: it is our concern. Her home must be safe. Her street must be safe, her commute must be safe, her work must be safe.

It’s not a matter of personal preference or performance, it’s seeing others with full humanity. We must side with her when she’s yelled at, when she’s cornered, when she’s leered at, and when she’s groped, cut, raped, bashed or slaughtered.

I wrote these words more than a year ago. Reading over them again I feel a bit embarrassed by their forced nature, and my attempt at a poetic structure. I stand by the feelings behind them, and what I think my argument was - that misogyny should be met at all levels with resistance, no matter how trivial. This is because the social structure is pervaded by an ideology of masculine supremacy. There is a connectedness between the trivial and the hyperviolent, and recognising that makes it imperative to alter our behaviour at all levels, if we truly are concerned about the cause of gendered violence.

The context of what I wrote bears analysing too. I put pen to paper after having a heated discussion with a co-worker in 2019, regarding allegations made by an actor, who claimed a co-worker of hers at the time, Geoffrey Rush, had acted inappropriately towards her. It is here that I would link an article describing the allegations, but Australia’s defamation laws are so skewed that none exist and, strictly speaking, I too am beholden to those laws. Suffice to say that the discussion I had with the colleague assumed the allegations true, but this does not detract from the impetus for my writing, after having that discussion.

My recollection is that my co-worker felt that the complainant had overreacted by making a complaint about the alleged conduct. She felt not only that it was not worth making a complaint about, but also that by making that complaint the accuser was detracting from other, presumably more ‘real’, conduct and behaviour perpetrated against women. My colleague also seemed vaguely suspicious of the then emerging ‘#metoo movement’. As I hope is apparent from what I’ve written, I did not (and do not) agree with her arguments. As far as I see it, the victim in this instance, as well as those who spoke up about their own experiences during that time and since, are workers demanding safe working conditions. The end goal of which is not merely to demand that bosses improve those conditions (albeit, this is extremely important), but the end goal should also be worker control of the arts and the banishment of capital’s hold in the industry.

Thinking on the discussion now, my co-worker’s arguments remind me of Helen Garner’s book, The First Stone, which I would recommend to all interested in these issues (even if I do not particularly agree with Garner on much of what she says in that book). In her book Garner investigates allegations made by two students of the University of Melbourne, who alleged that the head of a prestigious college had sexually harassed them. Garner’s book still attracts controversy for some of the conclusions she entertains, and some utterances she makes (particularly in regard to the claimants).[1]

Garner is frank about her initial response to the news,[2] her past encounters with men acting inappropriately,[3] and her feelings about the players involved (the accusers, the accused, and everyone around them). She sways between wanting to understand the young women’s intentions,[4] feeling that they were overreacting,[5] and perversely extolling the polite virtue of the accused and lamenting his lost career. It can make hard reading for the converted feminist (or ally thereof) who believes both in sexual liberation and the existence of a patriarchal social structure. It should also be said, for me at least, the book offers important insight into how a woman, longing for the days of sexual playfulness, has come to feel increasingly invisible.

I recommend it, despite it’s challenging subject matter and defense of arguments I don’t agree with, because it is a well-written and complex analysis of competing schools of thought in modern feminism and criminology. Garner offers compelling arguments in favour both of my co-worker’s view and the more radical approach (I like to think I inhabit).

I share the feelings well summed up by Rachel Hennessy, writing 20 years later for Overland (hard copies of which can be found on many Melbourne university campuses including the one in question). Hennessy describes the experience of reading The First Stone as ‘being betrayed by a good friend’.[6] It is important to read the book because Garner’s ultimate conclusions represent an alternative view of sexual equality that many still hold, and clearly, the dialogue with my colleague is precisely what Garner was grappling with herself, and continues to be debated among those of us who deign to call ourselves feminists.

It is also tangentially an important book for its criminological content. Garner analyses what institutional response ought be taken against sexual violence, and makes interesting arguments about proportionality. We often argue for harsher penalties and sanctions for perpetrators (and understandably so), but this can be uncomfortable for those of us who know that our penal institutions are woefully inadequate to deal with any form of anti-social behaviour. It can be easy to argue for the end to the carceral state and defunding the police when we talk about the wrongly convicted and racialised policing (for instance), but it is far more challenging to argue for those things in the face of what is clearly objectionable conduct. If the state is to be involved in preventing harm (which it should be), does the argument against imprisonment hold true for all crimes or just some of them? Exploration of that question is best left for another time.

What we see from Garner’s book, and what I learnt from my discussion with my co-worker, is that, generationally, as well as politically, we are still divided on the issue. For those of us who have a more absolutist approach against sexual misconduct, it can be confronting to have these discussions. My writings above were an emotional response to what was a challenging dialogue. An attempt to elucidate the thinking that sexual violence is a part of a wider culture, one of misogyny, which finds expression not only in depraved acts of violence (like rape) but also in the mundane gender distinctions (like a man badgering a woman on public transport). If we act on principle that we ought be treated equitably as well as that all are inherently equal, then how is that we justify not resisting the trivial expressions of inequity as well as the more dangerous.

[1] Gay Alcorn, ‘Helen Garner’s The First Stone is outdated. But her questions about sexual harassment aren’t ‘, The Guardian (7 January 2018) <https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/jan/08/helen-garners-the-first-stone-is-outdated-but-her-questions-about-sexual-harassment-arent>.

[2] Helen Garner, ‘The First Stone’, page 16.

[3] See, eg, ibid page 62.

[4] Ibid page 78.

[5] Ibid 16.

[6] Rachel Hennessy, ‘ Why Helen Garner was wrong’, the Overland (24 July 2015) < https://overland.org.au/2015/07/why-helen-garner-was-wrong/comment-page-1/>.

[nicolasnelson]

Sizzie fic - Wake from the Chaos [oneshot]

Title: Wake from the Chaos Relationship: Lizzie Saltzman/Sebastian Additional Tags: Sebastian's POV, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers Words: 4,452

Summary: Everything changes when Sebastian meets Elizabeth Saltzman. He has a chance at life and love, even if it means sacrificing his freedom. But will he be able to win over Elizabeth after making her think she hallucinated him?

Requested by Anon // Prompt: The one-shot could be about Sebastian pov from the moment he woke up, what he thought about Lizzie, the school and etc.

[AO3 LINK]

Sebastian had never felt a connection quite like this. Elizabeth had called to him like a siren, but he’d been hesitant to heed the call. He’d been asleep for far too long, or something like sleep. A land of dreams, memories, unending agony over the loss of his beloved Cassandra.

But Elizabeth had awoken something in him. He knew not how his body came into contact with blood, only that the blood was rancid and inadequate. And yet, it was just enough for him to wander through this world again like a specter in the night.

He could feel a strong presence, a young lady, with the same fiery, passionate spirit as his great love. It had been impossible to ignore the call. Gazing upon her beauty after so many years of darkness had made him believe for just a minute that heaven could be real.

But no, that wasn’t the place for a man like him. He’d piled up the bodies higher than those on plague wagons. With his feast, he was a plague himself, tearing through whatever tasty piece of flesh crossed his path.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the gorgeous siren said, and he had to laugh at the irony of it all. She could do nothing to harm him, even if she’d wanted to, and she really had no idea what he was capable of, what he’d done. What he could do. Even in this sad, miserable ghostlike state.

He could still hurt her. If he wanted to.

Sebastian should not have given his name when she asked. For it allowed her the opportunity to give hers, and that was the worst thing she could have done. It made her real, made her more than just a way out of this hellish nightmare. Elizabeth. He couldn’t help but see her as his savior, as beautiful as an angel, with the eyes of a devil. It awakened a desire in him he’d thought long dead.

And now was the moment to ask for her help, to finally be free. He had her exactly where he wanted as they sat by the lake. The question was halfway out of his mouth when Elizabeth noticed a figure holding a strange box in his hands.

Sebastian felt himself blinking away. It was hard to keep that form when Elizabeth was not focused on him.

And when he tried to reach for her again, he found the connection had broken. A familiar sadness settled inside him, a reminder that guys with pasts like his did not get happy endings. It had been foolish to think even for a moment that he might be able to have something with Elizabeth.

But he would not give up on his quest to restore his body. He was done festering in a box. So he found another way, another person he could reach. Not the right person, but it got him into the school. And once in there he found a willing ally, a lonely guy in desperate need of a friend.

Sebastian instructed the poor fool to give him just enough blood to wake his body. And once he could move freely, he arose from his box and bit into that lonely boy’s neck. And drank deep.

If it weren’t for Elizabeth, he would have killed the boy. He did not know the rules of this place. Therefore, he could not risk violating them, for fear he might never see Elizabeth again.

It was many days and many painful memories later before the idiotic vampires who managed to capture him let him see Elizabeth.

Her voice was music to his ears. “No more secrets.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he said sincerely. After all, it did sound reasonable, but he was careful not to word it as a promise. There were still a great many things he didn’t want Elizabeth to know.

She turned to look at him, but she didn’t greet him with the smile he was expecting. Elizabeth thought he was a hallucination, a sign that she was on the verge of another breakdown. He couldn’t blame her. That bumbling turnip had made her think she was imagining him. If it weren’t for Milton, he would have gotten Elizabeth to help revive him. He was certain she would have done it too. She’d played right into his hands like soft clay.

“You can see him?” Elizabeth asked the brunette girl beside her.

Milton stepped beside Sebastian. “Everyone can.”

Elizabeth’s eyes burned. “You two had better explain everything right now.”

“For hundreds of years I was trapped in a mere semblance of existence, a shadow of my former glory,” Sebastian began.

“The Spark Notes version,” Elizabeth said, cutting him off with a sharp glare.

“She means that you should get to the point,” Milton explained.

“Yes, I gathered as much. Just because I have been desiccated in a box for five hundred years does not mean my brain has rotted, you turnip.” Sebastian smacked the back of Milton’s head. “I have excellent deduction skills.”

“Well, your explanation skills are extremely lacking,” Elizabeth said, crossing her arms. “How can everyone see you now? You said you were desiccated.”

“Yes, the sparkling notes of it is that I was desiccated by a witch whom I loved very much. She did it to protect me from the Croatoan. That amulet your friend used to destroy that monster was given to me by her. Elizabeth, you must know that I never intended to hurt you.”

“You seduced me to, what, get me to restore your body?”

“Well, yes,” Sebastian admitted. “That is how it started at least. I felt drawn to you, as you were to me. I was able to reach your mind, to be seen by you, and—”

“You tried to take advantage of my feelings,” Elizabeth accused, fire on her tongue. “You let me think you were a real physical being. I told everyone about you. You didn’t think to mention to me, just once, that I was the only person who could see you? You can be as charming as you want, but I can see through you now, Saruman.”

“Lizzie, just let him speak,” Milton said.

She turned a fierce glare on him. “You’re just as bad as he is. How long have you known he was real? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Milton shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d handle it well.”

“How long, MG?”

“I don’t know. Four or five days. But I wasn’t sure if he was real. I thought I was hallucinating too, you know? And then I didn’t even agree to help him. He tricked Wes into reviving him.”

“You mean Wade?”

“Yeah, him. He’s alive. Don’t worry. He just used him to get enough blood to be revived. But I’m not defending him. What he did was wrong. He shouldn’t have lied to you, Lizzie.”

“And you shouldn’t have either, MG. I just can’t deal with you guys right now.” She grabbed the brunette girl’s arm. “Come on, Josie. Let’s let lying vampires lie.”

They stormed out of the gym.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Sebastian said.

Milton hung his head. “I should never have unchained you. Come on, I let you talk to Lizzie. You promised you’d come with me to the headmaster’s office.”

“Oh, yes, so he can decide whether to kill me or not. Lead the way, Milton, but you should be warned that I am prepared to take you hostage should the need arise.”

Milton rolled his eyes, looking resigned. “Let’s just see what Vardemus has to say.”

…

As it turned out, Vardemus was not in any rush to release Sebastian into the wild. He thought it would be better to punish Sebastian by enrolling him in the school.

Sebastian was very irked by this decision, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. So what if he had to attend a few dull classes? Besides, the closer he was to Elizabeth, the better chance he had at winning her back. She would be furious for a few days, but he knew how she felt about him. Waiting for Elizabeth would be nothing compared to the five hundred years he’d spent in that blasted box.

The headmaster provided him with a set of school uniforms, and he was allowed to spend a small amount of money at the bargain shop in town. With Milton and Kaleb’s supervision of course. They went at night since Sebastian did not have one of those fancy rings they wore that kept them from burning in the sun. It was remarkable how much technology had advanced in the time he’d been gone. He was fascinated by every aspect of it. All the flashing lights and startling sounds, the winds that blew out of air vents, the steel vessels that people steered through the streets.

But the townspeople he encountered were the worst. They all shot him suspicious glances and held their purses tightly against their chests. Even in ordinary clothes, he appeared as a threat. The human instinct was to avoid danger. Unless, of course, you were Elizabeth Saltzman.

She knocked on his door the morning of October the first with an unexpected gift for him.

“It’s a daylight ring, or it will be once I enchant it. I need you to come with me today.”

Sebastian smiled, thrilled at the invitation. He’d been waiting all week for Elizabeth to come to him, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “Why I would be delighted to accompany you, Elizabeth.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “Come on, let’s enchant this damn thing.”

“Will it protect me from the sun permanently?” Sebastian asked, curious.

“Not exactly. I have it in my power to undo the spell at any moment.” Elizabeth smirked, a hint of danger behind those eyes. “So I suggest you behave yourself.”

Elizabeth walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains enough to create a sliver of light across the wooden floorboards. Sebastian was surprised to see it was snowing outside, unusual weather for this time of year. Elizabeth explained that she needed sunlight for the spell to work. She claimed that the sunlight through the snow would be enough. Hopefully she was right.

Sebastian watched her while she worked. Her pale blond hair danced through the soft sunlight as she leaned over the ring she’d placed on the floor. She was kneeling beside it, muttering some incantation in a language Sebastian didn’t care to remember.

Her hair shifted, exposing her neck for a moment, and he remembered with startling clarity the hairstyle she had worn to the sports game. All of it pulled back in a fine braid, her neck completely visible for all to see. So beautiful. He’d always found a long elegant neck to be one of the most attractive features a woman could have. That and her sharp eyes, accentuated by those dark brows. It was enough to make his imagination run wild.

He’d felt an intimacy with her in that moment underground. He had revealed what he was to her, taking a calculated risk, sensing that the danger would draw her in. But she had laughed in his face, relieved rather than afraid. Now that he had seen the school she attended and the kind of vampires she interacted with on a day-to-day basis, he understood her reaction.

“Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked her, watching as her brows pinched together. This could be some trick to get him to walk outside. Maybe he underestimated her fury.

“Be quiet. I’m trying to concentrate,” she snapped.

“As you wish.”

“Zip it.” She leveled a harsh glare on him. It sent a pleasant chill down Sebastian’s spine. He could watch Elizabeth glare at him all day. It was part of their dance. She would act like she hated him while repressing the desire she felt, and he would try to get her to admit to her feelings.

Elizabeth picked up the ring. It had a stunning blue stone in it, no doubt the source of its power. “Here, put it on. We’ve got to leave before we get snowed in.”

Sebastian was only too eager to follow her orders. That is, until they got to the door to the outside world. He feared the ring would do nothing to shield him.

Elizabeth grabbed his arm and forced him out into the snow. He waited for his skin to sizzle, for the pain to shoot through him, but all he felt was the cold. He reached out a hand to let the snowflakes fall onto his palm before Elizabeth yanked him to the side of the school.

So Elizabeth wasn’t on a mission of vengeance after all? She really wanted to spend time with him outside of the school. Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Today was an excellent chance for him to finally get her to admit she still had feelings for him. He remembered their kiss very well, despite not being in his real body at the time. He’d still felt everything, though her emotions had been amplified. His connection had been to her spirit after all.

Though he could no longer feel her emotions, he was getting particularly good at reading her. Today’s adventure was an invitation to get to know her better, and he quite liked that idea. He followed her towards what she called “their ride.”

The steel vessel she produced looked old and worn. He watched Elizabeth climb into it first and followed her movements, sitting in the seat next to her. It wasn’t so different from a carriage, though there were no horses to drive it. He wondered if it ran on magic. He’d seen some of these in the town when he went shopping with Kaleb and Milton, but he had too much pride to ask them about it.

Elizabeth put a key into the vessel and turned it. The vessel hummed to life. He could feel the whole thing vibrating like a violin string. Elizabeth fiddled with some more knobs and the vessel began moving.

Once they were on their way, Sebastian stared out the window, watching the town pass by. He’d only seen it at night, and he’d never seen it covered in snow. All the children looked so happy, building shapes out of snow and throwing balls of snow at each other. It looked fun. He wished he could join them. A nice game with the children, and then he’d have a lovely conversation with one of the parents about how sweet her kids were, and then he’d compel her to follow him, and he’d get a taste of that sweet motherly love. And by love he meant blood. Damn he was hungry.

The snow melted away as they headed farther down the winding streets. Open fields and trees flew past them. This vessel moved faster than any horse Sebastian had ever ridden, yet compared to his vampire speed running, it was incredibly slow. One of the oddities of being a vampire. Traveling by normal methods always felt like a leisurely stroll.

Elizabeth turned another knob and music poured forth from the vessel. Sebastian nearly jumped out of his seat, and Elizabeth laughed at him, a wicked smirk on her lips.

Sebastian started fiddling with all the buttons, partially because he was curious at what they all would do, but mostly because he wanted to get Elizabeth back for startling him.

“Would you literally stop pushing my buttons?”

“So, she finally speaks, eh? Sorry, but this modern machinery fascinates me.”

Elizabeth grabbed his hand to move it away from the buttons. That brief skin-to-skin contact felt like a blessing.

Sebastian used to opportunity to voice his hunger, but it was clear Elizabeth was not going to let him prey upon a human, even if he had no intention of killing them. He wouldn’t kill anyone around Elizabeth at the very least.

He steered the conversation back to how Elizabeth obviously fancied him, but she did not like that at all. Elizabeth made the vessel screech to a halt, and Sebastian barely caught himself on the dashboard.

“You command this vessel like a drunken pirate,” he complained.

Elizabeth said she’d just seen a deer. Sebastian perked up, his mind already on that sweet blood. Animal blood was not as good as human blood, of course, but he was hungry enough not to care. Besides, it had to be better than the rabbit blood they served at the Salvatore School. That atrocity was barely fit for consumption.

“Is this some kind of test?” Sebastian asked, certain that it was.

Elizabeth assured him it was.

He knew that getting out of the vessel and pursuing the deer would mean failing the test. In fact, he knew there likely was no deer. He had not smelled anything deer-like, but he could sense that Elizabeth needed time to calm down by herself. He stepped out of the vessel, and sure enough she sped away from him.

Sebastian laughed. She really thought she could out-drive a vampire? He could catch up to her in minutes. But first, he did want to settle the rumbling in his stomach.

He turned his head, sniffing the air for any sign of wildlife. There was a farm not too far from here with some cows. Adequate. But he was hoping when he got there, he’d find a farmer to snack on.

…

Sebastian caught up to Elizabeth after darkness had descended. His stomach was satisfied. He’d found a farmer and his wife to sate his hunger. But now he had another kind of hunger, one he hoped Elizabeth could help him fulfill.

He recognized the boy Elizabeth was talking to. It was the one from school who was neither a witch nor a vampire nor a werewolf. A phoenix. He wondered if it was true that he would resurrect from death. Sebastian was too curious not to test the theory. He snapped the boy’s neck with a satisfying crack.

“I say, you people talk entirely too much when action is required,” he told Elizabeth, shaking his head.

She glared at him. “You just killed my friend.”

“Your friend? Really, now? The way you talk about him I figured he was an unwanted puppy. Anyways, he will arise from the ashes in a couple of hours, yes?”

“Don’t you know how to think before you act?”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile, though he felt a little pained at her words. “I do an excessive amount of thinking, I assure you, Elizabeth Saltzman. Just as I have already considered all the ways to rekindle our romance.” He ran a finger along her arm, a gentle touch, a silent request for permission to touch her more.

Elizabeth stepped out of his reach. “We need to hurry back to the school. Come on, we can load Landon in the truck.”

“Is that really the way to treat your friend?”

“Right now he’s just a sack of dead weight. Besides, we can’t very well put him in the back seat. If we get stopped by a police officer, we’ll be in big trouble.”

“No, we wouldn’t. I could just compel them.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I'd rather not have to deal with the police. What are you just standing there for? Pick him up.”

Sebastian grinned. He liked when Elizabeth bossed him around. He picked up the dead phoenix like he weighed nothing and carried him over to the vessel. “You seem to have lost the top of your vessel,” he said, staring at it curiously.

“Ugh, the top folds down. Stop asking questions, you ringwraith. Just put him in the trunk.” Elizabeth fiddled around with the knobs until the trunk opened with a click. Sebastian set the body into the trunk and slammed it shut.

“Don’t phoenixes normally burst into flames when they’re reborn? Shouldn’t we be worried he’ll set the vessel on fire?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you killed him. I’m not an idiot.” She held up a glowing box. “I set a timer. We’ll just need to stop when the timer goes off and take him out of the trunk so he can burst into flames and rise from the ashes.”

“This device counts a specified amount of time. Like a candlestick?”

Elizabeth didn’t even bother answering him. She walked over to the vessel and got into the driver’s seat. She turned the key, and the car bobbed up and down, but it didn’t move forward like it did before.

“Is something wrong?” Sebastian asked, leaning his arms on the windowsill of the vessel.

“It’s fine. Sometimes it just takes a little time for it to get moving. I told you, this car is ancient.” She tried again but to no avail. Huffing in frustration, she pulled a metal tool out of the glove compartment and tossed it towards him.

Sebastian barely caught it. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know. An axel or something? Use it to fix the car.”

Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. “You want me to attempt to fix your vessel? Elizabeth, I do not even know how it works. What do you expect me to do?”

“You said you were good at deducting, so deduct.” She motioned to the car.

Sebastian walked around it, studying it for any oddities. He got to the back of the car. “Ah, it seems one of your wheels is less round than the others.”

“A flat tire then. We should have a spare in the back.”

“Next to the dead phoenix. Fantastic. Can you, uh, command the trunk to open?”

Elizabeth huffed. “Whatever.”

The trunk clicked as it popped open. Sebastian reached inside for a rubber wheel, but he found none. However, he could smell that a wheel was in the trunk somewhere. He felt along until he found a groove right under the dead phoenix. “Excuse me, good sir.” He pushed the phoenix out of the way so he could pull open the secret compartment and extract the wheel. He also found a box full of many different tools. He pulled it out in case any of them proved useful.

He slammed the trunk shut, and Elizabeth jumped in the car.

Sebastian smirked to himself. Finally, some proper payback for the music earlier. He set the wheel down next to the car and studied the one still attached to the car. This didn’t make any sense to him. He picked up the axel thing, wondering if he was supposed to hit the wheel with it or something, when he noticed the end fit the outline of the spokes on the wheel.

After that, it was easy enough to figure it out, and by that he meant it was incredibly difficult. He first managed to pull off the hubcap, as Elizabeth called it, but not the wheel itself.

Elizabeth lay down on the front of the car while he worked. He doubted she was sleeping though. She definitely did not trust him enough to lower her guard in his presence.

Most of the tools in the kit proved useless. Finally, he tried to axel again and was able to get the wheel off. He traded it with the new one.

“Well, this settles the matter,” he said at last. “You are a terrible pilot.” 

“I didn’t think that being with you could get any more miserable.”

Sebastian tossed the axel onto the ground. He was getting frustrated with Elizabeth. She clearly had feelings for them, but she was much more stubborn about fighting them than he had expected. “You are only angry because your plan to abandon me has failed.”

There was only one thing for it now. Things were moving too slow. He peeled off his shirt, ready to use his muscles to his advantage.

And that did the trick. Elizabeth could not look away from him. Their arguments turned into banter, and suddenly Sebastian knew what he had to do. He had figured out before when he was still without a working body that Elizabeth was drawn to danger. He only needed to remind her just how dangerous he was.

He gripped her throat, and time seemed to slow down as he looked into her eyes, searching for that familiar thrill. “And you are forgetting that I am dangerous.”

“Stop talking.” She moved his hand. “Action is required.”

Those were his words, and he couldn’t be more delighted to hear them thrown back at him. She pulled him into a fierce kiss, and Sebastian felt vindicated in his theory. Elizabeth Saltzman wanted him because he was dangerous, and she was giving him permission to show him just how dangerous he could be.

He didn’t want to hurt her too much, but a little pain might be just what she was craving. He lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around him, and he pushed her into a sitting position on the hood of the car, removing a layer of her clothes while the kissing intensified.

He felt like he’d been starved for hundreds of years as he pressed Elizabeth down onto the hood of the car. She wrapped her legs around him, running her fingers through his hair and tugging. A pleasant shiver ran down Sebastian’s spine. He felt welcome in her embrace.

He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. With his other hand he slipped her shirt over her head. It tangled in her hair, and she giggled, helping him get it over her head. He tossed it aside, and ran a hand down the middle of her chest.

Elizabeth reached behind her and fumbled around, biting her lip, until her bra popped off. She tossed it onto the car seat and propped herself up on her elbows.

Sebastian drank in the sight of her. Beautiful, flawless skin. Her silky hair draped across her chest. Those perfect nipples peeking out through the strands. Her eyes were like a flame drawing him in. Oh, he wanted all of her, but she was almost too precious to touch. He worried that if he went too far, if she didn’t really want this, he’d ruin any chance he had with this angel.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked. He felt like a tightly wound coil. If she said yes, he would spring into action, but if she said no, he would need to get far away from her, work out this energy in some other way.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now make me feel alive, Sebastian.”

He smirked. That he could do.

[haiky-u-lously]

Mimi’s Gift--Chapter 1

Summary:

 It is said, that on your 25th birthday, one of your soulmate’s most embarrassing moments will appear to you in the form of a dream where you view as though being a fly on the wall. It is the night before your 25th birthday, and you are nervous because not everyone remembers the dream they have when they awaken. Will you?   

Themes:

Fluff, Humor, Soulmate AU

Warnings:

Embarassement, Teasing between friends, Self-judging (reader judges themselves on how they think about others).

Word Count:

~7,300 words total

Enjoy!

-Admin Red

__________________________________________________________

“No, Yama,” You chided your friend through the phone as you continued to prepare your bed for sleeping. “I do not need anyone to come stay with me to help make sure I remember my Soulmate Dream. If I remember then that is great, and if I do not then...well...let’s not think about that. Just I will remember, okay?” Trying to laugh away your worries, you draddled on.

“Well, if you really feel like that, I won’t pressure you.” He finally caved to your decision. “But you only know I keep asking because you made such a big deal when Hinata couldn’t remember his Soulmate Dream.”

You held back a laugh as you remembered how badly you screamed at Hinata when he called you freaking out. 

“But (Y/N)! I can’t do anything about it if I don’t remember.” His tone had been even, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, “Besides, this way they’ll just have to remember me from theirs, it's not a big deal.”

And despite what you’d thought at the time, and how you had gone to each of your shared friends begging for help to pull the memories from his mind, he had been right. Not even 2 days later, Kenma proved Hinata’s assumption correct. The game developer had waited nearly 7 months to come face to face with his soulmate, after they both would know they were soulmates...and the exploding tangerine had just not known. 

You giggled at the memory a bit more before listening to more of Yama’s explanation.

“And Tsukki only knew his because he recorded himself sleeping and caught what he said in his slumber. So, it is only because I care that I keep offering like this.”

Taking another moment to regard Tsukki’s situation had you rolling your eyes. After the almost Hinata fiasco™, Tsukki was the next of your group of friends to have his Soulmate Dream night. You were in a panic out of fear of him forgetting like Hinata without the benefit of his soulmate already knowing and also the added bonus of already knowing him. Everyone thought he had just ignored your worries, but when you all found out he only knew because he’d recorded himself sleeping, it sent you into a deeper panic. Worried that your friends were cursed to not remember their soulmate dreams on their own.

You were grateful when Kageyama and Yamaguchi’s dream days came around and they recalled every stark detail. Led you to believe once again that it was all just luck if you remembered or not. You had just wanted your friends to have the happiness you knew awaited them. Despite being so shocked at the first two’s experiences, the second pair’s relatively mellowed out your concerns.

Smiling to yourself, you could truly feel how heartfelt he was being and appreciated his kindness, “Thanks Yama, you are a great friend. But honestly, I am good. Actually, now my bed is ready so I’m going to sleep. Goodnight!”

“Night (Y/N)! Call me tomorrow whether you remember it or not!” He concluded before hanging up the call.

You pulled yourself into bed, turned off the night lamp on your bedside table, and curled up under the perfectly weighted blanket. You spent a few moments scrolling through social media, watching video snip-it one after the other. While watching a news update one you yawned, and quickly moved to the next. When you yawned immediately after swiping up, and realized your head was bobbing forward and eyes were closing on the video of innocent dogs being reunited with their owners, you decided that was enough.

Locking the device and shoving it under your pillow for safekeeping, you snuggled deeper into the soft mound. Letting sleep take over your body as the day came to an end and a new one was ready to begin.

***dreams***

It started with seeing the backside of a guy with spiky brown hair. He was in a red and black tracksuit and crouched down on the sidewalk. The vision slowly moved around to show a side view of the same image, as the boy was holding a fried chicken drumstick in one hand and trying to coach a dog to let him pet them with the other. His wide grin was a sight to behold but before you had time to contemplate anything else of the scene, the dog snatched the fried chicken from the boy’s hand and took off running.

Initially, the boy just held a shocked expression, before suddenly racing after the dog and screaming how wrong it is to steal.

The chase scene continued until the dog ran into what you presumed was a high school gymnasium. The boy glared into the open door for half a second before chucking his shoes off and jumping into the gym himself, in only his socks.

Hearing the male fall along with seeing him flat on his behind, you thought that’d be the end, but the scene continued.

As the boy was rightening his position, you looked around and realized you recognized this gymnasium as belonging to your friends’ old high school. Upon making that realization, you also saw Yamaguchi running up to the boy your vision had followed.

“Are you okay?” Your friend asked the brunet.

That dazzling smile returned as the questioned faced Yama, “I’ll be great once I get my chicken back from that thief!”

You watched as the boy turned towards a different part of the gym, saw as his eyes narrowed in on what seemed to be an innocent space, stared as he took off in the direction just as he had after the dog. Before finally gaping as he walked back out of a storage space, the dog hanging under one arm, and his chicken, now half-eaten, in the other. 

A dejected expression covering his features.

Other boys in red and black outfits, some tracksuits while others wore game uniforms were laughing at who you suspected was their teammate. 

Before you could make out what else was going on, the scene flashed twice and you were watching from Yamaguchi’s side of the court as a game transpired between the groups.

It seemed enjoyable for all involved, as the scores were extremely close. Karasuno having 31 points and Nekoma having 30 points as far as you could read from the scoreboard. The team in red had just served the ball, Yamaguchi received it and it went beautifully towards Kageyama, Kageyama set it to Tsukki who tipped it over a gray-haired tall boy and the spiked brown-haired boy from before. A player in red was able to get the ball with relative ease and when the ball was set to the brown-haired boy, you felt excitement coursing through you.

Only, the ball started arching at an odd angle, and fell lower in front of the brown-haired boy’s arm then his swing was positioned. The ball hit him square in the face and he fell backwards onto his butt once again.

This seemed to pull a blanketed pause across the court. But the brunet just laughed about it himself, breaking whatever tension was in the room. After a moment of all those on the court laughing, the boy moved to stand upright, apparently deaf to the shouts of worry from those around him. His foot landed straight on top of the ball that just hit him and he now sprawled over the floor. He’d fallen face first.

Once again the group on the court started laughing at the male’s expense and it was all you could do to try and keep his face at the forefront of your mind as the scene before you faded out.

***Real World***

The beeping of your alarm’s sound grew as your eyes opened, facing the sun’s light shining through your curtains. You slam the mute button on the clock to silence the squeals that brought you out of your slumber and slowly rose to a seated position.

Rubbing the lingering drowsiness from your eyes, you release a quiet yawn and stretch a few tight back muscles for good measure. Finished with the little wake-up routine you hop out of bed and make way to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and complete the other morning rituals necessary to start the day properly.

As you were swinging the toothbrush over your teeth, mid brushing, your reflection showed how wide your eyes bugged out. Suddenly choking on the toothpaste residue in your mouth as you realized you only recalled pieces of your dreams from the night prior. 

Rinsing your mouth out in the sink, you managed to dash back into your room and flop onto your bed. Calling out, “No no no no no no!” As you rummaged under your pillows for your phone to note what you still remembered before it too was lost to the black hole that was considered your memory bank.

Finding the device, and opening up a note page you spoke to yourself again as you typed, “Yama’s high school. Red uniform. Blinding smile. Dog and chicken. No no no, what else! Why can’t you remember anything more helpful? Stupid stupid brain!” You were chiding yourself continuously, regret seemingly pouring out from your entire body as you saved the note despite the sense of inadequate information.

Sighing in defeat, you managed to make your way back to the restroom to finish your morning routine.

[m-oana-archive]

Heartsease: A Wolfstar Fanfiction

Part Eleven: “It’s Hard to Believe Sometimes.”

read part one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

A/N: After a year of planning, drafting, redrafting, and screaming, I am SO EXCITED to be publishing the last installment of Heartsease.  This fic has given me so much insight into how I want to approach writing in the future.  Thank you to everyone who has been reading since the beginning.  It means the world.

POV: James | Words: 4790 | Beta: @inflictionofopinions <3 | read on AO3

It wasn’t a position James was unused to being in: waiting in the corridor outside of McGonagall’s office, leaning leisurely yet uncomfortably against the stone walls, his Converse-clad feet jutting out further into the hall than the rest of his body.  He counted the beams on the small window staring him in the face; there were sixteen, just like the last time he was here a few days ago for some stupid prank he had set with Sirius, too minuscule to remember the specifics of in the long list of pranks they’ve played.  Usually, James would be here alongside Sirius, waiting in the corridor while Remus sat in McGonagall’s office, pleading their innocence far more eloquently and earnestly than either James or Sirius could manage. 

But he didn’t want to think about Sirius.  Sirius, his brother—regardless of the legality of it—and his only brother.  Sirius, who would sleep at the foot of his bed when he had nightmares, who trusted James enough to know he’d let him move into the Potter’s at eleven years old, who always let James feel badly about the most trivial of matters despite surviving the most excruciating circumstances, who would make James’ smile like no one else could.  Sirius, who, when it came down to it, didn’t tell James about being in love with Remus. 

All James could wonder was, “What did I do wrong?”  

Of course, Sirius didn’t owe James anything.  At first, James was so disgusted with feeling abandoned by Sirius’ secrecy that he tried to brush it off as Sirius thinking his and Remus’ relationship had been real.  Such would have explained why Sirius hadn’t come forward about his feelings for Remus.  James settled into the explanation easily.  However, the longer he let that excuse sit with him, the more time James was allowed to find the obvious loophole: to make such accusation accurate, Sirius wouldn’t have started liking Remus at the same time James had begun dating him.  While Sirius had a flair for the dramatic, it was far too Muggle reality television show catty for him to have done that.

So James was hurled back to square one: abandonment, guilt, unsureness.  Maybe most friendships didn’t rely on such mutual lack of secrecy, but James’ and Sirius’ were of a different breed.  Because James’ mind was still cluttered with memories of Sirius telling James every other secret he ever had; most notably, when Sirius came out for the first time ever, to James, on the train to Hogwarts. 

By some amount of chance, James found an arm slung around his shoulder casually.  It belonged to a boy that kept smiling and bouncing on his feet instead of walking.  “Sirius Black,” he had introduced himself as, giving James a much-too-official handshake considering they were both eleven.  Before James had even gotten all of his name out, Sirius was inviting him to sit in the train on the way to Hogwarts with him.  Once they were headed onto the train, Sirius was babbling to James as if he wasn’t just attempting to say goodbye to his parents.  It was about everything: the classes he was trying to take, the book he had just finished, the way he was considering styling his hair.  James guessed Sirius was just nervous; he was too, after all.  Yet for James, his nervousness resulted in stumbling over words and feet, while Sirius’ made him unable to stop talking.  Realizing the perfect balance of the scenario, James let himself stay quiet and Sirius talk. 

The only time he shut up was when a bloke with long, blonde hair—later identified as Lucius Malfoy—came stampeding through the train, near-shouting his conversation with his friends.  James’ attention was snapped to the boy.  James was certain everyone on the train couldn’t look away, no matter how much they wanted to. 

So he wasn’t quite sure what the context of the conversation was, but James very clearly heard Malfoy say, while passing the compartment he and Sirius sat in, “And when he fell from my push, he didn’t even try to get up!  He just stayed down there on his arse and cried, the fag.” 

James immediately stood up from his nearest-to-corridor-seat and into the hall.  “Hey!” he shouted, causing Malfoy and two other boys to turn around to face him.  “Don’t use that word like that.  It’s offensive and rude.” 

“What’s it to you?” Malfoy asked.  He was smiling smugly, as if he had proven someone wrong.  Or just proving someone.  “You queer, git?” 

“What’s it matter?  It’s still not right.”  

James was hyperventilating from his anger.  Malfoy just smiled more.  “You know, having a wand of righteousness up your ass won’t mean you’ll be put into Gryffindor, try-hard.  Just admit you’re disgusted.  And then find me.  Or come with me now.  I can help you sort out who is worth your time here.” 

“I think I can figure that out for myself.  Thank you for the concern.” 

Without a beat to pause, James slid back into the compartment from which he came.  Sitting in front of him was a wide-eyed, jaw-dropped Sirius.  

“What?” James smiled, proud that he found what could make Sirius stop talking. 

“Do you… do you even know what you just did?  Who you stood up to?” 

James shrugged.  “No.  Why?  Does it matter?” 

“To people who know him, yeah.”  Sirius was smiling.  “That was Lucius Malfoy, by the way.  He’s one of those famous pure-blood wizards.” 

James considered asking Sirius if he was one, too, but refrained from it.  He remembered his father mentioning something of a famous Black family, but never thought their descriptions of regality and poise would result in someone as rambunctious and welcoming as Sirius.  Lucius, on the other hand, fit the type perfectly.

“Ah,” James said, not really caring.  He let his gaze drift out of the window from fatigue.  Quickly, he realized Remus was still out there, so narrowed his eyes to try and find him through his limited vantage point. 

From an odd angle, James heard Sirius’ voice.  “Well, are you?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are you?” 

“What?”

“Gay.”

His gaze turned back to Sirius, who looked strangely strung-up for someone who was asking the surprising question, not receiving it.  James guessed it must have come as a surprise when he was quite relaxed after Sirius’ question.  

James pursed his lips before answering.  “I don’t think so.  I mean, I’ve never felt any special way towards blokes, but… I don’t know.  We’re just starting school.  Things might change.” 

Sirius nodded thoughtfully before staring out of the window.  The amount of disinterest he was portraying towards James’ answer, especially in comparison with the energy with which he had just asked the question, confused and unsettled James.  He sought further clarification for the shift, but some feeling he didn’t know the source of restricted pursuing it.  The very contrast he was confused by was the same one he knew he had to undertake.

The silence felt like forever; James knew it wasn’t, though.  To avert from awkwardness James had moved his shift from Sirius to the bustle of students in the corridor, all running to find friends or empty compartments to claim them with.  So, if it weren’t for the fact he was waiting for it, James doubted he would have heard Sirius’ voice.

“I am, you know.  Gay, I mean.”  James turned to face him; Sirius was drawing shapes on the window with his finger, watching the imaginary lines as if in a daze. 

James wasn’t quite sure how to respond.  He was used to yelling at people who used derogatory statements, for standing up in what he believed in.  But this didn’t feel like a moment for volume.  It didn’t seem like a moment for silence, either; silence that could be interpreted as similar to the one following receiving a blow, right before the pain sets in. 

He settled with, “Oh.  Okay.”  Even though he felt like it wasn’t enough, he had to assure to Sirius he was listening, and that he didn’t mind.  A casual response felt the closest to the normalcy James felt should be associated with being gay. 

Sirius looked up with wide eyes.  “Okay?”  

“Yeah.”  James chewed around the edges of the word as he said it, filling up the empty space he knew it left obvious.

He was also looking at Sirius’ every move, trying to see if what he said was right, praying to Merlin it was.  Regardless of not knowing Sirius for long, anyone coming out warranted the response they desired: love, acceptance, understanding.  The way James saw it, he was just trying to do what was right. 

Maybe Sirius could feel the desperation for righteousness pouring out of James’ very essence, as, right after James responded, Sirius’ body relaxed, tensed shoulders dropping, pursed lips unfurling.  Yet his expression remained complicated.  Thoughtful.

“No one straight has ever responded like that.” 

“I’m sorry,’ James automatically responded. 

“It’s… well, it’s not fine.  It’s not.”  Sirius closed his eyes, tilting his head back, laughing darkly at the ceiling.  “But I still suppose it was stupid of me to assume my very traditional parents would respond well.  That my little brother who follows their every order would stand up for me.  And considering you’re the only other straight person I’ve come out to, I assumed you’d do the same.”

“I’d never,” James breathed.  “I promise.”

His response felt extremely inadequate. Sirius had just come out to the first straight person not related to him after being tormented for it by those who were bonded by blood, yet all James had to offer was an oath spoken uncertainly due to the circumstances preceding it.  And not only did the response does not match the scale of Sirius’ admission; James’ feelings were equally as undermined.  He must have been doing something right to earn such trust from Sirius so quickly.  He felt honored to be such a quick confidant to something so personal: another factor James feared had slipped into his words.  For, this was about Sirius, not him.  No matter how special he felt, there should be no awards for being decent.

A booming, yet dark laugh from Sirius drew James out of his thoughts.  “Sorry if I overwhelmed you,” Sirius chuckled.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

So deep in thought, James didn’t even notice the door open.  If it weren’t for Lily softly clearing her throat, notifying him of her presence, James wouldn’t have noticed her, standing right across the corridor from him, either.

James looked up.  Her face was a smile that melted into a frown when seeing his expression.  “Are you that nervous about talking to McGonagall?” she asked. 

James’ voice came out quietly.  “No.  ‘More nervous to be talking to Sirius, to be honest.” 

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Nothing.  But that’s the problem.  He didn’t…” James figited, nervous the complaint would sound immature, “he never told me about Remus.”  

Lily’s brows furrowed.  “Are you mad?” 

“No!” he shouted.  “No, not at all.  I’m just, disappointed, that’s all.”

“In him?” 

“In me.”  

“Mr. Potter.” 

The voice was new to the conversation, but not new to James by any means.  When he snapped his head to where the door stood, it was cracked, revealing McGonagall just as James had expected.  Yet he was shaky in his Converse, as if he hadn’t been disciplined by McGonagall before.

He turned back to Lily in a rush.  Suddenly, there was so much to talk about: his self-deprivation, Sirius’ lack of trust, and his kiss with Lily that had been replaying a corner of his mind like background music in a movie ever since it happened three days earlier.  All he could get lit was a struggled, “Lily, I—”

Lily interrupted him by locking their hands together and giving his palm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.  It held everything it needed to at once: a reminder she’d be there if James needed to talk about Sirius with her, affirmation that he could get through McGonagall’s interrogation, proof that she still wanted the physical proximity the kiss had given them.

With easing nerves James made his way into McGonagall’s office.  Once inside, she closed the door firmly behind her.  She offered him tea, his usual—black tea with three sugars and a galleon-sized drop of milk—and quirked a brow when he refused, but said nothing of it.  James kept silent as she outlined his punishment: having all the responsibilities of Head Boy, but none of the perks.  McGonagall didn’t miss pointing out the fact that expulsion from Hogwarts was a very serious option she and Dumbledore discussed; one only bypassed due Trinity being expelled for her homophobia, making McGonagall and Dumbledore aware they couldn’t hold someone trying to curtail the effects of her homophobia to equal offense. 

Though James was grateful he got to finish school, he couldn’t even fully appreciate McGonagall and Dumbeldore’s decision.  He couldn’t relax his shoulders or release his teeth from where they dug down into his bottom lip.  On the other hand, McGonagall was smiling, probably expecting that James would follow suit from relief.  Her grin quickly faded when she noticed his worried expression remained stoic.

“You look quite distraught, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall pointed out.  Her features turned downcast, as if to match his, to act as a mirror in order to solidify her statement’s accuracy.  “Is something that I told you upsetting?” 

“Oh no, no,” James quickly responded.  “I’m truly grateful I get to stay here.”  He thought of Remus and Lily, of Marlene and Pandora.  His heart ached at a moment’s consideration of not being able to return to them next fall.  “It’s just, not to be rude… but this meeting really not my, uh, current priority.” 

James looked up, expecting McGonagall’s face to bear a widened jaw and set of eyes.  Instead, she nodded curtly.  “The last few days have been cruel.  I appreciate you taking the time for something so administrative when there are other, bigger issues going on behind the paperwork.  So, unless you have further questions, you are free to go.” 

They were the words James were waiting for.  Like he had been brought back to life he sprung out of his chair, finding himself at the door to the corridor incredibly fast.  But before he could twist the knob, open the door– 

“James.” 

James twisted his chin over to his shoulder.  McGonagall’s hand was out, as if ready to reach for him if he hadn’t stopped.  “Please,” she said, “please know if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.” 

“Thank you,” he said, pouring as much earnestness he had into each letter.

With a small smile on her lips, she nodded curtly once more: James’ sign that he could leave.  A warm breeze blew through his hair upon entering the corridor.  Despite himself, he looked around, stomach dropping at the lack of bodies.  Some distant part of him wished that Lily had stayed; the better of him knew seeing her here would just have served as another distraction.  Though he wanted the warm words he knew she’d offer him in bulk, his sadness wasn’t a means to gain pity or prove he was righteous.  No: his sadness was proof he had a broken mend to fix with someone he loved, more than Lily, more than Remus, more than anyone. 

On the way over, James had internally come to terms with the fact he’d have to pry Sirius out of Remus’ grip.  They had been inseparable since the fight in the courtyard—understandably so—meaning James would have to trust Remus to understand the privacy wasn’t driven by jealousy.  He had spent the walk imagining all the different twists and turns the conversation could take, how to direct them the best.  So, when James pushed the door of his dorm room open, he almost fell over at the fact that Sirius was very much alone. 

“Hey.”  James did his best to muster up a smile, which was loftily returned.  “Are you, uh, doing anything right now?” 

Sirius lifted up a potions textbook, yet responded, “Nope.  What’s up?” 

James was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, looking anywhere in the room that wasn’t Remus.  “I wanted to apologize.” 

“Apologize for what.” 

“Uh….” Merlin, James, he scolded himself, this is the wrong version of the conversation.  The one you ruled out.  He hadn’t found a way to end it; James didn’t know why Sirius’ faith was lost.  He could not name the action. 

But in a brilliant moment of self-savior, he realized he could name the effect.  “For making you not trust me anymore.  And for not even remembering why.” 

Sirius’ face twisted.  “Why do you think I don’t trust you?  I trust you with my life.”

“Because you didn’t tell me about Remus.”  When Sirius’ features straightened, his mouth opening in reply, James added hurriedly, “Not because you owe it to me.  You owe me nothing.  Ever.  It’s because you’ve told me every other secret, no matter how small or big, so I just… it must be me.”

“Prongs,” Sirius demanded softly, stopping James from whirlpooling into self-blame, as they both knew would happen.  “It was never you.  I promise.”

Finally, James felt the pressure between his shoulder blades ease as his arms fell lower down his sides.  His heartbeat slowed to match the feeling of the Sunday sunshine pouring through the windowsill.  Breath seemed easier, fresher, fuller.

James shook his head.  “I just thought, for so long…”

“James, even if you did hurt my feelings, I’d never not tell you, because I don’t want to fight with you, because I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“Good, then,” Sirius smiled.  “We’ve agreed we’re still brothers ‘till the end.”

“Yup.”  James’ beamed and all of the light returned to his refreshed body.  With a rediscovered bounce in his step, he made his way to his wardrobe to change into a fresh set of clothes.  But before he could even get halfway from the door to his dresser, Sirius’ voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Is that all, then?” Sirius asked.

James turned towards him; the look James was met with was complicated.  “Yeah,” he replied, simply.

“You don’t want to know why I didn’t tell you?” 

James shrugged.  “Seems like none of my business.  Unless you want to talk about it.”

“It’s still kind of fresh, to be honest.”  A wincing of pain pressed into Sirius’ face.  “I’d rather not.”

“Let me know if you ever need me.  I’m always here.”

A safe sort of silence filled the gaps of the room as James got changed and Sirius continued reading the same page of his book over and over again.  It was as comfortable as their brotherhood, as needed as the pronouncements of love proceeding it.  Birds chirped, mattress springs croaked, wardrobe latches clicked.  Yet it ended with something more quiet: Remus gently closing the door behind him.

James subconsciously turned around himself in just the right way to see Sirius beam at Remus’ entrance.  “Rem,” he said tenderly, “You ready to go?”

Remus was wearing an equally bright grin.  “Just need to change shoes,” he joked.  “But actually, I ran into Lily in the common room looking for you, James, and it gave me an idea.  Did you know we were planning on going to Hogsmeade?”  James nodded—an understatement, considering that’s all Sirius and Remus had been talking about lately.  “Well, I thought maybe you could come along with Lily.  Sort of like a double date?”  The smirk on his face cut right through James.

“Uh, um… I don’t see why not, exactly, for me…”  James could feel his cheeks rising in temperature.  “But you two seemed so excited.  I don’t want to steal your space.  Make it about me.” 

Sirius piped in, “Well, I’m all for it.” 

“And I invited you,” Remus added.  “All you’d have to do is agree.  And ask Lily, of course.” 

James was too amused with the situation to be angry at Remus for setting it up; he still shook his head at Remus though, but with a smile tugging at his lips.  “You arse.” 

“I am a considerate friend and a creator of opportunities.” 

“You’re also a pretentious git,” Sirius responded, exceptionally casually.  James snorted laughter.  Remus feigned annoyance. 

A sudden surge of bravery surged through James, and he headed for the door.  “Well I’ll go ask her,” he said, “so I don’t have to witness the first fight as a couple.”  As James passed between where Remus’ body leaned outwards and the right side of the door frame, he felt Remus punch him slightly in the ribs.  James’ laughter followed him down to the common room. 

As Remus promised, Lily was there, sitting next to Marlene on a sofa and occasionally leaning back to not get whacked by Marlene’s gesturing.  From the looks of it, James wouldn’t be interrupting anything important, which he tried to let fuel his sudden confidence instead of scaring him due to the opportunity being so close, he could taste it. 

Somehow, it was Lily who started the conversation.  “James,” she smiled.  “Finally.  Remus told me he’d send you down.”

“He sent me tumbling,” James joked, hoping it would make her laugh.  It did.

Over the wonderful sound, Marlene spoke.  “You know, I think I’m late for something.”  

“Really?” Lily mused.  Accusation was heavy in her voice.

“Yes.  Something.”  Her smile reminded James of Remus’, and James realized he could do this, he could do this.  If Remus and Sirius had been brave enough to love one another, he could most definitely ask Lily Evans out.  Even if the uneasiness in his stomach disagreed. 

James lingered on Marlene’s exit, saying unsurely, “I guess I’ll just take her seat, then.”  He felt ungraceful when sitting down, like it was too loud of an action.  How could it be too loud? James thought to himself.  There was so much chatter around them, people coming and going, books hitting tables.

“I’m going to take a wild guess,” Lily began, “and guess you were just talking to Sirius.”  James nodded, not wanting to extrapolate, and Lily continued, as if knowing that without needing it verbalized.  “Did it go well?” 

“I’d say so.” 

“Good.”  Lily exhaled; one James didn’t realize she was holding.  His heart fluttered at the thought of her concern over him.  “You seemed so not yourself.  I’m glad it’s all worked out.” 

“Me too.  Mostly because I needed to talk to you, too.”  James let his focus dip to his hands, which were clasped together, but not tightly enough to restrict his fingers from fiddling.  “It was wrong to kiss you like that, in front of so many people, without even asking.  I’m really sorry.  I got carried away, but that’s no excuse.” 

Lily’s expression was darkened when James peered back up.  Then, a small smile twisted her lips.  “How did you know that’s what I wanted to talk about?” 

“Lucky guess?”  Lily chuckled.  James didn’t.  “But really, I’m sorry.  And I want you to know it won’t happen again.” 

“Not asking first?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good,” Lily nodded.  There was no forgiveness in her tone of voice.  “But not the kissing, right?” 

James perked up.  “What?” 

“The kissing.  I rather liked it.  Didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” James scoffed.  It was the understatement of the century, and they both knew it, if the laugh Lily gave meant anything.  

“Good,” she repeated, “Because I was kind of hoping, if you’re free, to go to Hogsmeade with you.” 

James’ jaw dropped: he couldn’t believe that Lily had cut him to the chase.  He felt anger rise up his throat, ready to yell at her for besting him.  But it died before it hit air.  James may have been a prideful Gryffindor, but he was willing for that pride to be destroyed if it meant letting Lily ask him out.  It was a small price to pay, yet a large reward.

So, he responded simply, “How would you feel if Remus and Sirius join us?  I hear they’re already going.” 

Lily agreed.  Leaving her—for hopefully the last time for a long time that day—James bolted to go fetch Sirius and Remus, who were sitting ready on their beds, as if they had known this would all work out all along.  James didn’t put it past Remus to have somehow manipulated the results, but was too elated with the premise of going out with Lily to pry.  

Minutes later, all four of them were bounding out of the Gryffindor common room, a ball of laughter, smiles, and witty jabs.  Through the staircases and pathways, Sirius and Remus weaved in front of James and Lily, allowing James to see their hands intertwined between their bodies.  He couldn’t help the smile that crept up on his face.  Somehow seeing it felt the same as the silence that he and Sirius had shared just hours before: comfortable, warm.  Right. 

Even after grabbing Butterbeer, Remus and Lily both decided they needed more sugar atop the nearly-stomach-ache-inducing goodness, so ran into Honeydukes while Sirius and James stood outside the window, each holding two drinks.  When Lily and Remus appeared from the window, James heard Sirius inhale sharply, as if a knife was just drawn between his ribcage.  James snapped his head towards Sirius. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, brow furrowed, eyes focused on Sirius and Sirius only.  The way Sirius’ fingers fumbled around the glasses didn’t help James’ pounding heartbeat steady.  

Sirius met James’ eyes, his expression wild, his voice breathless.  “It’s him,” Sirius said.  “The boy.  The boy I saw in Honeydukes when I was eleven and fell in love with.  It was Remus all along.” 

Flicking his head between where Remus stood, picking out taffies from large glass containers, and where Sirius shook, overtaken by his own affection, James could see it, too.  He could feel it.  And suddenly, James realized how damn foolish it had been for him to assume Sirius not telling him about his feelings for Remus could have been based on mistrust.  Because Sirius had trusted James everyday enough to love Remus in front of him, without watering down the certainty or strength of the adoration.  James had never known a version of Sirius that didn’t love Remus.  Sirius coming out to James was saying he loved Remus.  He just didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle to be wise enough to not cast the blame upon himself.

James smiled warmly, knowingly.  Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes.  “He loves you so much,” he responded, not knowing how to respond directly, but feeling as if that was enough.

“I know,” Sirius breathed.  He turned back towards the window.  “It’s just hard to believe sometimes.” 

James knew exactly what he meant, for when he looked out at Honeydukes, there was Lily.  Lily, who somehow asked him here, who somehow could look past his foolish mistake, who wanted more kisses despite the first one being a catastrophe painted romantic.  Watching her smile, James wondered if the swelling he felt in his chest was how Sirius felt seeing Remus for the first time.  For a moment, he felt like asking.  But then he realized he didn’t need to.

Everything was background noises for a moment.  James and Sirius watched together as Lily left Remus; probably to pay, James assumed.  Remus continued to waddle between jars of candy and chocolates.  He grabbed one too many of a handful of chocolate frogs, leaving one purple case tumbling to the floor.  Somehow, after reaching down and grabbing it, Remus stood up in the exact right way to land his eyes directly on Sirius’.

James watched as Remus’ face take many shapes, contorting from the scrunch of shock to crunched-brow confusion to teeth digging into lips from deep thought, all of which melded into one another and finally into a small, warm, knowing smile.  Remus’ eyes beamed as if no glass stood between them.  It felt like the expression someone makes when they know they are home.  As if Remus had known, all this time, that Sirius had always been waiting for him to turn around from the other side of the glass, to look his way, to give him what Sirius had supplied so many years ago, so accidentally, so genuinely.  That maybe all this time they’d known one another was really the journey of finding one another, after all the separations and heartache, returning to this spot and knowing it was their eternal starting point.  This faded and dusty glass that was almost a mirror, that showed them everything in their world began and ended with one another.

“It’s hard to believe sometimes”

It wasn’t a position James was unused to being in: waiting in the corridor outside of McGonagall’s office, leaning leisurely yet uncomfortably against the stone walls, his Converse-clad feet jutting out further into the hall than the rest of his body.  He counted the beams on the small window staring him in the face; there were sixteen, just like the last time he was here a few days ago for some stupid prank he had set with Sirius, too miniscule to remember the specifics of in the long list of pranks they’ve played.  Usually, James would be here alongside Sirius, waiting in the corridor while Remus sat in McGonagall’s office, pleading their innocence far more eloquently and earnestly than either James or Sirius could manage. 

But he didn’t want to think about Sirius.  Sirius, his brother—regardless of the legality of it—and his only brother.  Sirius, who would sleep at the foot of his bed when he had nightmares, who trusted James enough to know he’d let him move into the Potter’s at eleven years old, who always let James feel badly about the most trivial of matters despite surviving the most excruciating circumstances, who would make James’ smile like no one else could.  Sirius, who, when it came down to it, didn’t tell James about being in love with Remus. 

All James could wonder was, “What did I do wrong?”  

Of course, Sirius didn’t owe James anything.  At first, James was so disgusted with feeling abandoned by Sirius’ secrecy that he tried to brush it off as Sirius thinking his and Remus’ relationship had been real.  Such would have explained why Sirius hadn’t come forward about his feelings for Remus.  James settled into the explanation easily.  However, the longer he let that excuse sit with him, the more time James was allowed to find the obvious loophole: to make such accusation accurate, Sirius wouldn’t have started liking Remus at the same time James had begun dating him.  While Sirius had a flair for the dramatic, it was far too Muggle reality television show catty for him to have done that.

So James was hurled back to square one: abandonment, guilt, unsureness.  Maybe most friendships didn’t rely on such mutual lack of secrecy, but James’ and Sirius’ were of a different breed.  Because James’ mind was still cluttered with memories of Sirius telling James every other secret he ever had; most notably, when Sirius came out for the first time ever, to James, on the train to Hogwarts. 

By some amount of chance, James found an arm slung around his shoulder casually.  It belonged to a boy that kept smiling and bouncing on his feet instead of walking.  “Sirius Black,” he had introduced himself as, giving James a much-too-official handshake considering they were both eleven.  Before James had even gotten all of his name out, Sirius was inviting him to sit in the train on the way to Hogwarts with him.  Once they were headed onto the train, Sirius was babbling to James as if he wasn’t just attempting to say goodbye to his parents.  It was about everything: the classes he was trying to take, the book he had just finished, the way he was considering styling his hair.  James guessed Sirius was just nervous; he was too, after all.  Yet for James, his nervousness resulted in stumbling over words and feet, while Sirius’ made him unable to stop talking.  Realizing the perfect balance of the scenario, James let himself stay quiet and Sirius talk. 

The only time he shut up was when a bloke with long, blonde hair—later identified as Lucius Malfoy—came stampeding through the train, near-shouting his conversation with his friends.  James’ attention was snapped to the boy.  James was certain everyone on the train couldn’t look away, no matter how much they wanted to. 

So he wasn’t quite sure what the context of the conversation was, but James very clearly heard Malfoy say, while passing the compartment he and Sirius sat in, “And when he fell from my push, he didn’t even try to get up!  He just stayed down there on his arse and cried, the fag.” 

James immediately stood up from his nearest-to-corridor-seat and into the hall.  “Hey!” he shouted, causing Malfoy and two other boys to turn around to face him.  “Don’t use that word like that.  It’s offensive and rude.” 

“What’s it to you?” Malfoy asked.  He was smiling smugly, as if he had proven someone wrong.  Or just proving someone.  “You queer, git?” 

“What’s it matter?  It’s still not right.”  

James was hyperventilating from his anger.  Malfoy just smiled more.  “You know, having a wand of righteousness up your ass won’t mean you’ll be put into Gryffindor, try-hard.  Just admit you’re disgusted.  And then find me.  Or come with me now.  I can help you sort out who is worth your time here.” 

“I think I can figure that out for myself.  Thank you for the concern.” 

Without a beat to pause, James slid back into the compartment from which he came.  Sitting in front of him was a wide-eyed, jaw-dropped Sirius.  

“What?” James smiled, proud that he found what could make Sirius stop talking. 

“Do you… do you even know what you just did?  Who you stood up to?” 

James shrugged.  “No.  Why?  Does it matter?” 

“To people who know him, yeah.”  Sirius was smiling.  “That was Lucius Malfoy, by the way.  He’s one of those famous pure-blood wizards.” 

James considered asking Sirius if he was one, too, but refrained from it.  He remembered his father mentioning something of a famous Black family, but never thought their descriptions of regality and poise would result in someone as rambunctious and welcoming as Sirius.  Lucius, on the other hand, fit the type perfectly.

“Ah,” James said, not really caring.  He let his gaze drift out of the window from fatigue.  Quickly, he realized Remus was still out there, so narrowed his eyes to try and find him through his limited vantage point. 

From an odd angle, James heard Sirius’ voice.  “Well, are you?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are you?” 

“What?”

“Gay.”

His gaze turned back to Sirius, who looked strangely strung-up for someone who was asking the surprising question, not receiving it.  James guessed it must have come as a surprise when he was quite relaxed after Sirius’ question.  

James pursed his lips before answering.  “I don’t think so.  I mean, I’ve never felt any special way towards blokes, but… I don’t know.  We’re just starting school.  Things might change.” 

Sirius nodded thoughtfully before staring out of the window.  The amount of disinterest he was portraying towards James’ answer, especially in comparison with the energy with which he had just asked the question, confused and unsettled James.  He sought further clarification for the shift, but some feeling he didn’t know the source of restricted pursuing it.  The very contrast he was confused by was the same one he knew he had to undertake.

The silence felt like forever; James knew it wasn’t, though.  To avert from awkwardness James had moved his shift from Sirius to the bustle of students in the corridor, all running to find friends or empty compartments to claim them with.  So, if it weren’t for the fact he was waiting for it, James doubted he would have heard Sirius’ voice.

“I am, you know.  Gay, I mean.”  James turned to face him; Sirius was drawing shapes on the window with his finger, watching the imaginary lines as if in a daze. 

James wasn’t quite sure how to respond.  He was used to yelling at people who used derogatory statements, for standing up in what he believed in.  But this didn’t feel like a moment for volume.  It didn’t seem like a moment for silence, either; silence that could be interpreted as similar to the one following receiving a blow, right before the pain sets in. 

He settled with, “Oh.  Okay.”  Even though he felt like it wasn’t enough, he had to assure to Sirius he was listening, and that he didn’t mind.  A casual response felt the closest to the normalcy James felt should be associated with being gay. 

Sirius looked up with wide eyes.  “Okay?”  

“Yeah.”  James chewed around the edges of the word as he said it, filling up the empty space he knew it left obvious.

He was also looking at Sirius’ every move, trying to see if what he said was right, praying to Merlin it was.  Regardless of not knowing Sirius for long, anyone coming out warranted the response they desired: love, acceptance, understanding.  The way James saw it, he was just trying to do what was right. 

Maybe Sirius could feel the desperation for righteousness pouring out of James’ very essence, as, right after James responded, Sirius’ body relaxed, tensed shoulders dropping, pursed lips unfurling.  Yet his expression remained complicated.  Thoughtful.

“No one straight has ever responded like that.” 

“I’m sorry,’ James automatically responded. 

“It’s… well, it’s not fine.  It’s not.”  Sirius closed his eyes, tilting his head back, laughing darkly at the ceiling.  “But I still suppose it was stupid of me to assume my very traditional parents would respond well.  That my little brother who follows their ever order would stand up for me.  And considering you’re the only other straight person I’ve come out to, I assumed you’d do the same.”

“I’d never,” James breathed.  “I promise.”

His response felt extremely inadequate. Sirius had just came out to the first straight person not related to him after being tormented for it by those who were bonded by blood, yet all James had to offer was an oath spoken uncertainly due to the circumstances preceding it.  And not only did the response not match the scale of Sirius’ admission; James’ feelings were equally as undermined.  He must have been doing something right to earn such trust from Sirius so quickly.  He felt honored to be such a quick confidant to something so personal: another factor James feared had slipped into his words.  For, this was about Sirius, not him.  No matter how special he felt, there should be no awards for being decent.

A booming, yet dark laugh from Sirius drew James out of his thoughts.  “Sorry if I overwhelmed you,” Sirius chuckled.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

So deep in thought, James didn’t even notice the door open.  If it weren’t for Lily softly clearing her throat, notifying him of her presence, James wouldn’t have noticed her, standing right across the corridor from him, either.

James looked up.  Her face was a smile that melted into a frown when seeing his expression.  “Are you that nervous about talking to McGonagall?” she asked. 

James’ voice came out quietly.  “No.  ‘More nervous to be talking to Sirius, to be honest.” 

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Nothing.  But that’s the problem.  He didn’t…” James figited, nervous the complaint would sound immature, “he never told me about Remus.”  

Lily’s brows furrowed.  “Are you mad?” 

“No!” he shouted.  “No, not at all.  I’m just, disappointed, that’s all.”

“In him?” 

“In me.”  

“Mr. Potter.” 

The voice was new to the conversation, but not new to James by any means.  When he snapped his head to where the door stood, it was cracked, revealing McGonagall just as James had expected.  Yet he was shaky in his Converse, as if he hadn’t been disciplined by McGonagall before.

He turned back to Lily in a rush.  Suddenly, there was so much to talk about: his self-deprivation, Sirius’ lack of trust, and his kiss with Lily that had been replaying a corner of his mind like background music in a movie ever since it happened three days earlier.  All he could get lit was a struggled, “Lily, I—”

Lily interrupted him by locking their hands together and giving his palm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.  It held everything it needed to at once: a reminder she’d be there if James needed to talk about Sirius with her, affirmation that he could get through McGonagall’s interrogation, proof that she still wanted the physical proximity the kiss had given them.

With easing nerves James made his way into McGonagall’s office.  Once inside, she closed the door firmly behind her.  She offered him tea, his usual—black tea with three sugars and a galleon-sized drop of milk—and quirked a brow when he refused, but said nothing of it.  James kept silent as she outlined his punishment: having all the responsibilities of Head Boy, but none of the perks.  McGonagall didn’t miss pointing out the fact that expulsion from Hogwarts was a very serious option she and Dumbledore discussed; one only bypassed due Trinity being expelled for her homophobia, making McGonagall and Dumbledore aware they couldn’t hold someone trying to curtail the effects of her homophobia to equal offense. 

Though James was grateful he got to finish school, he couldn’t even fully appreciate McGonagall and Dumbeldore’s decision.  He couldn’t relax his shoulders or release his teeth from where they dug down into his bottom lip.  On the other hand, McGonagall was smiling, probably expecting that James would follow suit from relief.  Her grin quickly faded when she noticed his worried expression remained stoic.

“You look quite distraught, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall pointed out.  Her features turned downcast, as if to match his, to act as a mirror in order to solidify her statement’s accuracy.  “Is something that I told you upsetting?” 

“Oh no, no,” James quickly responded.  “I’m truly grateful I get to stay here.”  He thought of Remus and Lily, of Marlene and Pandora.  His heart ached at a moment’s consideration of not being able to return to them next fall.  “It’s just, not to be rude… but this meeting really not my, uh, current priority.” 

James looked up, expecting McGonagall’s face to bear a widened jaw and set of eyes.  Instead, she nodded curtly.  “The last few days have been cruel.  I appreciate you taking the time for something so administrative when there are other, bigger issues going on behind the paperwork.  So, unless you have further questions, you are free to go.” 

They were the words James were waiting for.  Like he had been brought back to life he sprung out of his chair, finding himself at the door to the corridor incredibly fast.  But before he could twist the knob, open the door– 

“James.” 

James twisted his chin over to his shoulder.  McGonagall’s hand was out, as if ready to reach for him if he hadn’t stopped.  “Please,” she said, “please know if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.” 

“Thank you,” he said, pouring as much earnestness he had into each letter.

With a small smile on her lips, she nodded curtly once more: James’ sign that he could leave.  A warm breeze blew through his hair upon entering the corridor.  Despite himself, he looked around, stomach dropping at the lack of bodies.  Some distant part of him wished that Lily had stayed; the better of him knew seeing her here would just have served as another distraction.  Though he wanted the warm words he knew she’d offer him in bulk, his sadness wasn’t a means to gain pity or prove he was righteous.  No: his sadness was proof he had a broken mend to fix with someone he loved, more than Lily, more than Remus, more than anyone. 

On the way over, James had internally come to terms with the fact he’d have to pry Sirius out of Remus’ grip.  They had been inseparable since the fight in the courtyard—understandably so—meaning James would have to trust Remus to understand the privacy wasn’t driven by jealousy.  He had spent the walk imagining all the different twists and turns the conversation could take, how to direct them the best.  So, when James pushed the door of his dorm room open, he almost fell over at the fact Sirius was very much alone. 

“Hey.”  James did his best to muster up a smile, which was loftily returned.  “Are you, uh, doing anything right now?” 

Sirius lifted up a potions textbook, yet responded, “Nope.  What’s up?” 

James was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, looking anywhere in the room that wasn’t Remus.  “I wanted to apologize.” 

“Apologize for what.” 

“Uh….” Merlin, James, he scolded himself, this is the wrong version of the conversation.  The one you ruled out.  He hadn’t found a way to end it; James didn’t know why Sirius’ faith was lost.  He could not name the action. 

But in a brilliant moment of savior, he realized he could name the effect.  “For making you not trust me anymore.  And for not even remembering why.” 

Sirius’ face twisted.  “Why do you think I don’t trust you?  I trust you with my life.”

“Because you didn’t tell me about Remus.”  When Sirius’ features straightened, his mouth opening in reply, James added hurriedly, “Not because you owe it to me.  You owe me nothing.  Ever.  It’s because you’ve told me every other secret, no matter how small or big, so I just… it must be me.”

“Prongs,” Sirius demanded softly, stopping James from whirlpooling into self-blame, as they both knew would happen.  “It was never you.  I promise.”

Finally, James felt the pressure between his shoulder blades ease as his arms fell lower down his sides.  His heartbeat slowed to match the feeling of the Sunday sunshine pouring through the windowsill.  Breath seemed easier, fresher, fuller.

James shook his head.  “I just thought, for so long…”

“James, even if you did hurt my feelings, I’d never not tell you, because I don’t want to fight with you, because I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“Good, then,” Sirius smiled.  “We’ve agreed we’re still brothers ‘till the end.”

“Yup.”  James’ beamed and all of the light returned to his refreshed body.  With a rediscovered bounce in his step, he made his way to his wardrobe to change into a fresh set of clothes.  But before he could even get halfway from the door to his dresser, Sirius’ voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Is that all, then?” Sirius asked.

James turned towards him; the look James was met with was complicated.  “Yeah,” he replied, simply.

“You don’t want to know why I didn’t tell you?” 

James shrugged.  “Seems like none of my business.  Unless you want to talk about it.”

“It’s still kind of fresh, to be honest.”  A wincing of pain pressed into Sirius’ face.  “I’d rather not.”

“Let me know if you ever need me.  I’m always here.”

A safe sort of silence filled the gaps of the room as James got changed and Sirius continued reading the same page of his book over and over again.  It was as comfortable as their brotherhood, as needed as the pronouncements of love proceeding it.  Birds chirped, mattress springs croaked, wardrobe latches clicked.  Yet it ended with something more quiet: Remus gently closing the door behind him.

James subconsciously turned around himself in just the right way to see Sirius beam at Remus’ entrance.  “Rem,” he said tenderly, “You ready to go?”

Remus was wearing an equally bright grin.  “Just need to change shoes,” he joked.  “But actually, I ran into Lily in the common room looking for you, James, and it gave me an idea.  Did you know we were planning on going to Hogsmeade?”  James nodded—an understatement, considering that’s all Sirius and Remus had been talking about lately.  “Well, I thought maybe you could come along with Lily.  Sort of like a double date?”  The smirk on his face cut right through James.

“Uh, um… I don’t see why not, exactly, for me…”  James could feel his cheeks rising in temperature.  “But you two seemed so excited.  I don’t want to steal your space.  Make it about me.” 

Sirius piped in, “Well, I’m all for it.” 

“And I invited you,” Remus added.  “All you’d have to do is agree.  And ask Lily, of course.” 

James was too amused with the situation to be angry at Remus for setting it up; he still shook his head at Remus though, but with a smile tugging at his lips.  “You arse.” 

“I am a considerate friend and a creator of opportunities.” 

“You’re also a pretentious git,” Sirius responded, exceptionally casually.  James snorted laughter.  Remus feigned annoyance. 

A sudden surge of bravery surged through James, and he headed for the door.  “Well I’ll go ask her,” he said, “so I don’t have to witness the first fight as a couple.”  As James passed between where Remus’ body leaned outwards and the right side of the doorframe, he felt Remus punch him slightly in the ribs.  James’ laughter followed him down to the common room. 

As Remus promised, Lily was there, sitting next to Marlene on a sofa and occasionally leaning back to not get whacked by Marlene’s gesturing.  From the looks of it, James wouldn’t be interrupting anything important, which he tried to let fuel his sudden confidence instead of scaring him due to the opportunity being so close, he could taste it. 

Somehow, it was Lily who started the conversation.  “James,” she smiled.  “Finally.  Remus told me he’d send you down.”

“He sent me tumbling,” James joked, hoping it would make her laugh.  It did.

Over the wonderful sound, Marlene spoke.  “You know, I think I’m late for something.”  

“Really?” Lily mused.  Accusation was heavy in her voice.

“Yes.  Something.”  Her smile reminded James of Remus’, and James realized he could do this, he could do this.  If Remus and Sirius had been brave enough to love one another, he could most definitely ask Lily Evans out.  Even if the uneasiness in his stomach disagreed. 

James lingered on Marlene’s exit, saying unsurely, “I guess I’ll just take her seat, then.”  He felt ungraceful when sitting down, like it was too loud of an action.  How could it be too loud? James thought to himself.  There was so much chatter around them, people coming and going, books hitting tables.

“I’m going to take a wild guess,” Lily began, “and guess you were just talking to Sirius.”  James nodded, not wanting to extrapolate, and Lily continued, as if knowing that without needing it verbalized.  “Did it go well?” 

“I’d say so.” 

“Good.”  Lily exhaled; one James didn’t realize she was holding.  His heart fluttered at the thought of her concern over him.  “You seemed so not yourself.  I’m glad it’s all worked out.” 

“Me too.  Mostly because I needed to talk to you, too.”  James let his focus dip to his hands, which were clasped together, but not tightly enough to restrict his fingers from fiddling.  “It was wrong to kiss you like that, in front of so many people, without even asking.  I’m really sorry.  I got carried away, but that’s no excuse.” 

Lily’s expression was darkened when James peered back up.  Then, a small smile twisted her lips.  “How did you know that’s what I wanted to talk about?” 

“Lucky guess?”  Lily chuckled.  James didn’t.  “But really, I’m sorry.  And I want you to know it won’t happen again.” 

“Not asking first?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good,” Lily nodded.  There was no forgiveness in her tone of voice.  “But not the kissing, right?” 

James perked up.  “What?” 

“The kissing.  I rather liked it.  Didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” James scoffed.  It was the understatement of the century, and they both knew it, if the laugh Lily gave meant anything.  

“Good,” she repeated, “Because I was kind of hoping, if you’re free, to go to Hogsmeade with you.” 

James’ jaw dropped: he couldn’t believe that Lily had cut him to the chase.  He felt anger rise up his throat, ready to yell at her for besting him.  But it died before it hit air.  James may have been a prideful Gryffindor, but he was willing for that pride to be destroyed if it meant letting Lily ask him out.  It was a small price to pay, yet a large reward.

So, he responded simply, “How would you feel if Remus and Sirius join us?  I hear they’re already going.” 

Lily agreed.  Leaving her—for hopefully the last time for a long time that day—James bolted to go fetch Sirius and Remus, who were sitting ready on their beds, as if they had known this would all work out all along.  James didn’t put it past Remus to have somehow manipulated the results, but was too elated with the premise of going out with Lily to pry.  

Minutes later, all four of them were bounding out of the Gryffindor common room, a ball of laughter, smiles, and witty jabs.  Through the staircases and pathways, Sirius and Remus weaved in front of James and Lily, allowing James to see their hands intertwined between their bodies.  He couldn’t help the smile that crept up on his face.  Somehow seeing it felt the same as the silence that he and Sirius had shared just hours before: comfortable, warm.  Right. 

Even after grabbing Butterbeer, Remus and Lily both decided they needed more sugar atop the nearly-stomach-ache-inducing goodness, so ran into Honeydukes while Sirius and James stood outside the window, each holding two drinks.  When Lily and Remus appeared from the window, James heard Sirius inhale sharply, as if a knife was just drawn between his ribcage.  James snapped his head towards Sirius. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, brow furrowed, eyes focused on Sirius and Sirius only.  The way Sirius’ fingers fumbled around the glasses didn’t help James’ pounding heartbeat steady.  

Sirius met James’ eyes, his expression wild, his voice breathless.  “It’s him,” Sirius said.  “The boy.  The boy I saw in Honeydukes when I was eleven and fell in love with.  It was Remus all along.” 

Flicking his head between where Remus stood, picking out taffies from large glass containers, and where Sirius shook, overtaken by his own affection, James could see it, too.  He could feel it.  And suddenly, James realized how damn foolish it had been for him to assume Sirius not telling him about his feelings for Remus could have been based on mistrust.  Because Sirius had trusted James everyday enough to love Remus in front of him, without watering down the certainty or strength of the adoration.  James had never known a version of Sirius that didn’t love Remus.  Sirius coming out to James was saying he loved Remus.  He just didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle to be wise enough to not cast the blame upon himself.

James smiled warmly, knowingly.  Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes.  “He loves you so much,” he responded, not knowing how to respond directly, but feeling as if that was enough.

“I know,” Sirius breathed.  He turned back towards the window.  “It’s just hard to believe sometimes.” 

James knew exactly what he meant, for when he looked out at Honeydukes, there was Lily.  Lily, who somehow asked him here, who somehow could look past his foolish mistake, who wanted more kisses despite the first one being a catastrophe painted romantic.  Watching her smile, James wondered if the swelling he felt in his chest was how Sirius felt seeing Remus for the first time.  For a moment, he felt like asking.  But then he realized he didn’t need to.

Everything was background noises for a moment.  James and Sirius watched together as Lily left Remus; probably to pay, James assumed.  Remus continued to waddle between jars of candy and chocolates.  He grabbed one too many of a handful of chocolate frogs, leaving one purple case tumbling to the floor.  Somehow, after reaching down and grabbing it, Remus stood up in the exact right way to land his eyes directly on Sirius’.

James watched as Remus’ face take many shapes, contorting from the scrunch of shock to crunched-brow confusion to teeth digging into lips from deep thought, all of which melded into one another and finally into a small, warm, knowing smile.  Remus’ eyes beamed as if no glass stood between them.  It felt like the expression someone makes when they know they are home.  As if Remus had known, all this time, that Sirius had always been waiting for him to turn around from the other side of the glass, to look his way, to give him what Sirius had supplied so many years ago, so accidentally, so genuinely.  That maybe all this time they’d known one another was really the journey of finding one another, after all the separations and heartache, returning to this spot and knowing it was their eternal starting point.  This faded and dusty glass that was almost a mirror, that showed them everything in their world began and ended with one another.

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

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[austenpoppy]

Unpopular - or very rare - opinions about Ron, even for a Ron-lover or a Romione-lover

I am quite a strange person, because I have the impression that no one agrees with what will follow. I won't even list the obvious, since I think most of the people who will read this are Ron-lovers like me.

I am not going to explain everything in details, mostly because I will post some comments and analysis to do so... soon ;) !

1. I am glad Ron dated Lavender, and I am slightly unnerved every time I read that he has been a "prat" in sixth year. Why ?

Because of double standarts, people.

Why is it okay for a girl to want to feel good about herself, to feel special, to be assured that she can achieve things and look good, and not for a boy ?

Feeling okay with oneself is a very important part of one's teenage years. My mum, as a teacher, often talks to pupils who loathes themselves (I have no right to spill their secrets here, but I hope everyone understands)... and that is heartbreaking.

Ron reminds me of them.

Ron dated Lavender at a moment in his life when he thought he was "pathetic", when he thought the girl he loved thought him pathetic too (and he had reasons for thinking so...) when one of his teachers was unable to remember his name and kept looking through him as if he didn't exist while lavishing praise on his best friends and sister, when nobody except Lavander told him he was worth something, when his own team hated him, when his sister had humiliated him, when everyone was looking at Harry in awe, when he had just got scarred for life (scars oddly reminding me of cutting) and had lived through a traumatic event, when nobody except Lavender was doting on him, when nobody seemed to care about him but her.

It did not solve everything. Ron is extremely prone to self-hatred, and I don't believe it ever disappeared after the locket. But for once in his life, Ron actually felt good about himself for a while.

It is not that he did not care about Lavender's feelings. Not at all. Just see the way he felt when they broke, extremely guilty about having made her cry. She fancied him, he appreciated her and he was trying to get over Hermione. (and realised he couldn't, but that is another story...) Why would dating her be wrong ? He did not use her. He did not manipulate her. He appreciated her.

Why would that be wrong, although Hermione and Ginny did the exact same thing ?

I am all for Hermione when she dated Krum at the Yull Ball and Ron tried to guilt her over it, and she yelled at him (even if it I don't want to imagine Ron's feelings the night after, crying himself to sleep because "he would never be good enough for her"... Yeah, Schopenhauer was right: you only fully realise how much something is important once you lost it - or think you lost it). It was important for her to realise that she was not just a "bookworm", but a person who had just as everybody the right to feel desirable, and special.

Ginny dated other guys than Harry, and she was fully aware she had absolutely no feelings towards them (see Dumbledore's funeral) and ... ? She was trying to be herself, to get over Harry. She did not use guys, she genuinely appreciated them and it was important for her. It helped her becoming the person she became.

It was important for Ron too, and I wish people saw that.

2. I don't blame Ron for leaving in DH. It is not that I am cutting him slack, or that I just forgave him. It is more than that. I am admirative.

I think, and this is something I will defend to death after some research I made, that Ron has been mentally tortured by the locket.

Yes, I repeat it, tortured. This is not a hyperbole.

Note that I don't blame Harry or Hermione for the fight. They were manipulated - not tortured yet. The only one I blame is the locket

People don't realise that things could have gone horribly wrong. Under torture, people are led to do awful things. And that cannot be judged. Their pain is so huge they are not in their right mind.

When Ron faced his torturer again after he left, in a state of mental exhaustion, terror and anguish, for another mental torture session, he went very close to possession -actually he has been possessed one moment - and he could have killed Harry. That was exactly what Voldemort wanted : killing the Boy-who-lived by all means, weakening him, destroying the Trio.

It is out of sheer courage and thanks to his golden heart that Ron resisted torture and possession.

Wow indeed.

It could have been another way : with all the self-loathing stuff he always thought being repeated over and over again, he could have committed suicide. I think he could have attempted to do it if he had not left, but this is Ron who never gives up we're talking about, so who knows ?

3. Ron is not insensitive at all. It is the other way around.

Another thing I am ready to die defending it

We have a problem of vocabulary : being insensitive means that you don't care about others' feelings, that you don't feel empathy for others, or that you don't feel empathy at all. Sociopaths are often insensitive.

So... Ron, according to this definition, insensitive ???

I think it would be better if people just said that he was tactless sometimes.

4. Ron is not carefree. An optimist, yes, a boy trying to see the fun in life, yes, often immature, yes, sometimes insensible, yes...

But carefree ? No.

Look at the way he is often very anxious, the way he feels so very strong feelings, the fact that he is overly emotional, the fact that he worries so much.

The emotional range of a teaspoon, my arse.

Ron is a mix of raw emotion, passion, fire, and sunshine, wind and freedom.

5. Ron is romantic.

I see you laughing in a corner, because really, Ron, who had so much problems with dealing with girls, romantic ?

Well, being romantic means that you have idealistic ideas about love (I know what I'm talking about).

And look at Ron, squealing with delight on the floor when Harry received his first kiss, getting desperate when he learnt that Hermione had given het first kiss to another, playing matchmaker (this SCENE at the end of OOTP), grunting because "he thought that (Ginny) had a crush on Harry...", being ready to commit himself to love for eternity at seventeen...

6. Ron was not "the prat who walked out on Harry out of jealousy" in fourth year.

Both boys were to blame here. And acted out of a feeling of betrayal.

Better even : Ron first tried to swallow his bitterness.

7. Ron was not that prejudiced towards giants, house-elves and werewolves

Giants : what did he say ?

That they were violent and "awful", because they were killing one another.

Well, look at what Hagrid, a half-giant, says about it (conversation after his return in OOTP)

House-elves : what did he say ?

--> that they didn't want to be freed : apart from Dobby, whom he respected very much, he was right

--> that they loved doing what they did : once again he was right

--> that they were not human beings, and that you could not talk to them the same way : he was both right and wrong. You have to consider them as equals, and if you don't see them as human beings, you can be prone to forget it; however, house-elves are another species with other needs and expectations; and you have to be careful about what you say to them and the way you say it (house-elves are much more naive, innocent and emotional)

Werewolves : what did he say for people to think that ?

--> the "get away from me, werewolf !"

Ah, the hypocrisy. Let me remind you of something :

"'NO!' Hermione screamed, 'Harry, don't trust him, ge's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead - he's a werewolf !"'

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling

But people, think about it one second : these circumstances were NOT normal. They were hurt and TERRIFIED teenagers who had just seen one of their teachers hug and being really friendly with a seemingly mass murderer. They felt betrayed.

Imagine if Sirius had been a mass murderer : Lupin would have been like Greyback, who identifies himself as a werewolf and as a beast.

Ron and Hermione did not really think what they said. They were just TERRIFIED.

--> the "Dumbledore hired you, he's crazy"

Same thing.

It is crazy to expect perfection from terrified and feeling-like betrayed teenagers.

8. Ron does not lust much after other girls

I won't count Fleur, because the state he was in when he was seeing her was only due to her Veela-abilities (and let's face it -Harry too was influenced by it - just look at the way he described her when she entered his room at the beginning of HPB; Ron was just more sensitive to it)

He had a cute crush (oh god I hate this word) on Mrs Rosmerta.

He found Lavender nice, but did not lust after her.

And...?

That's all.

Full stop.

9. Ron's Boggart is not a spider

It may have been the case in the first books, but not in the last ones.

Otherwise let's assume that Parvati's Boggart will always be a mummy, that Seamus's will always be a banshee and that Dean's will always be a severed hand...

Nope. People grow and change, and their fears too.

I think that Ron's Boggart, once OOTP ends, has most likely been a dead or hurt Hermione that he had not been able to save, or a locketlike vision.

10. Ron is not so relatable and ordinary.

Well, maybe he is relatable for the way he feels inadequate, and his tendency to self-hatred reminds probably some people of their own struggle.

The fact that we can read him like an open book is perhaps relatable as well.

His arachnophobia ?

Maybe his bad luck.

But I never thought him ordinary. Or else being ordinary has never been so extraordinary.

The day you find a boy who is ready to die for others and to sacrifice himself at the age of twelve, call me.

The day you find somebody who is arachnophobic and is ready to follow spiders into a dark forest without complaining and even trying to appear enthusiastic, call me.

The day you find a fourteen-years old with a bitten arm and a broken leg, and standing on it without complaining once to tell somebody everyone thinks is a mass murderer and that he had seen with a knive above his bed some months ago, "If you want to kill my best friend, you'll have to kill me too", call me.

The day you find a boy who begs to be tortured instead of the person he loves and who is ready to give up everything he is for her or him, call me.

The day you find somebody who defies a dictator and a murderer when all hope is lost, call me.

And then I dare you to tell me they're ordinary.

I am sure some people imagine that I think Ron has no flaws, mostly because the things people blame him for are things I am often glad he did.

That is not true.

But the things I criticize Ron about are often smaller : imitating Hermione in Charms in HPB, his comment about Neville to feel better about himself before asking Hermione to the ball, his comment during a party during the Scabbers/Crookshanks fight...

However, I do worship Ron to the stars.

And I am proud of it.

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? We have a decent size backyard, but I never go back there. I’m not an outdoorsy person, I much prefer to be indoors. I don’t relax outdoors unless I’m at the beach. 2. Is there a group of friends that you used to hang out with but no longer do? Why don’t you hang out anymore and how do you feel about them now? I don’t have any friends anymore and that’s completely my fault. I became very distant and withdrawn and just disappeared essentially from everyone. It wasn’t anything they did, I just fell into a bad place and I haven’t been able to get out. I’m such a shitty person for completely abandoning them the way I did. 3. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My mom and I have a lot of shows we like to watch together, we like a lot of the same music and movies, we both love to read, and we both follow entertainment/celebrity gossip. 4. Did you ever say or ask something that you assumed was a neutral subject, but the person you were talking to became offended and you had no idea why? Not that I can recall. 5. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? There’s been several movies like that. Like for example, I always look forward to new Marvel, DC, and Star Wars movies.

6. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you got the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! Nope. 7. Do you ever feel like anyone is “out of your league” or does that concept not make any sense to you? What do you do when you’re attracted to someone but find them out of your league? I always get it mixed when it comes to that saying. Like, to me it means that I’m ugly and have no chance with anyone I’m interested in. Does that mean I’m out of their league or they’re out of mine? 8. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Hmm. I don’t know. 9. Do you refer to yourself by any sort of fan nickname (Belieber, Little Monster, etc.)? Lol no. I’m old. 10. Do you ever just get lazy and give up on your friendships? I didn’t do it out of laziness. It happened because I’m a mess of a person and I just couldn’t handle or put in the energy into any friendships. I couldn’t even take care of myself. I didn’t give up on them, I gave up on myself. 11. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you. I had a friend who I felt made things into a competition and tried to one up me in the sense of who had it worse. Like, if I actually opened up about something and expressed how I was feeling, she’d spin it back on her somehow and her problems were always worse of course. One time she even said to me, “what do you even have to be depressed about?” and proceeded to go on about all the problems she has. 12. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean, I’d like to experience love and romance and have someone to experience life with. I want that special someone. I want to do couple-y things. I want someone to get takeout and binge watch TV shows with, someone to drink my morning coffee with, someone to grow with, someone to travel with. I want all that someday. It’s hard for me to even imagine it ever happening, though. I’m almost 30 years old and haven’t found it, yet. I don’t see anything changing anytime soon, either. 13. What sort of situations make you feel most self-conscious or inadequate? Are there any people or places that just make you want to crawl into a hole? If you can’t think of anything specific, can you remember the last time (or any time) you felt this way? I feel extremely self-conscious and inadequate all the time. 14. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I’d rather not say what it is. 15. Are there any cities near you that you’re afraid to go to because of the crime rate or its other bad reputations? I city I live in has a high crime rate and bad reputation. :/ We’ve wanted to move for a long time, but we haven’t financially been able to do so. We really want to try and do so soon, though. 16. If you went to camp as a kid, was it a pleasant experience? Do you think that all kids should be able to go to camp? If you didn’t go to camp, do you feel like you kind of missed out on something? My 6th grade class went to science camp, which was a thing a lot of 6th grade classes did at various schools in my state at least. I don’t know if that’s a thing anywhere else. Anyway, it was actually pretty fun. We we were there for a week and were out in the woods doing nature-y things and learning about that kind of stuff, but they made it interesting and fun. We went to the beach one day, too, which was really fun. We had bonfires at night and sang songs. We did fun things with our cabin mates and cabin leaders. It was cool. I also went to a Girl Scout camp for a week, which was really fun. We put on skits with our groups and did a lot of other fun activities. 17. Do you grandparents ever judge you or stick their heads in your business? If not, is there someone else in your life you dread seeing because of their unwanted input? I love my grandparents, and I know my Nana just loves and cares about me and is concerned for my wellbeing, but yes I do feel judged sometimes. There’s things she doesn’t understand. 18. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? Probably when I was younger. 19. Would you ever go on a media fast (i.e., avoiding tv, movies, the internet, and magazines for a certain amount of time, in an attempt to become aware of how media makes you feel)? Do you think that sort of thing would benefit you? Nah. That would be incredibly boring, ha. 20. Are you happy with where you currently live? If not, what don’t you like about the area and do you plan on leaving? No. I already explained why. 21. If someone told you that we live in a society that hates women, how would you respond? Okay. We live in a society that hates everything. <–TRUTH. <<< Honestly, though. 22. When was the last time you were on a boat? Whose boat was it, and what were you doing? Like 2008/2009. It was a boat that took us across to an island where we were toured Alcatraz in San Francisco. 23. Have you ever been completely blindsided by a break-up or have you sort of felt all of your relationships deteriorating before they ended? If you would prefer not to answer, what is the last instance you can remember being totally blindsided by news you heard? I mean, it shouldn’t have come as a big surprise. He didn’t want to commit and it he didn’t feel the same way I did about him. He completely played and used me, and the worst part is I let him. Then one day he decided he was done with me and it all stopped. There were times things were good and times things were bad and we were on and off, but when it finally ended for good I didn’t know it would really be over. Even though it should have been blatantly clear it was coming. What I was completely blindsided by; though, was when Ty just deleted Facebook and Instagram and fell off the grid. I haven’t heard from him in 3 years. I have no idea what happened to him or what he’s doing and I have no way of finding out. 24. Can you remember the last thing you thought and subsequently thought, “wow, I really shouldn’t be thinking that”? Hmm. Not at the moment. 25. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I don’t think about getting married. I don’t plan on ever getting married.