#sorry i try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt but i’m fed up w him

[limeade-l3sbian]

This is a controversial very anti feminist opinion of mine, but it genuinely pisses me off lately when I see women disparage their own features online, for example in tiktoks and in tweets. It’s not that I don’t get how they have become insecure or what it feels like. I’m very familiar. But I feel tired of all the self degradation that’s just become the norm. I’m tired of people themselves feeding into it. I’m tired of them spreading their insecurities. Im tired of seeing girls and young women in the replies say “oh i didn’t know this was a bad feature.. now i’m self conscious too”. Spreading hate about yourself eventually hits people who look similar or share even just one similarity. And seeing these types of posts get 100k+ likes and everyone having a sob fest about how unfortunate and “ugly” they are, makes me nauseous atp. I used to feel bad but now I’m just fed up. And people do it irl too. Go to therapy, get a diary, do anything productive instead of constantly sucking the energy out of the room or online place you are. Your looks don’t make you an eyesore, your self pity does.

Regardless of how unpopular it may be received, I agree with you 100%.

I think what annoys me is both ends of this spectrum. You have the women who really do believe this, to which I suggest that a life of pursuits in things other than appearance heavy ones will greatly buffer this constant desire to look perfect and "presentable". I still have body issues myself, but I'm not nearly as deep in them as I was in high school when I had too much time on my hands to worry about things like that. I'm not saying "get a job then you'll see how much it doesn't matter!" but also...kinda?

But not just work. Hobbies. Socializing with friends (FRIENDS). These things engage your dopamine so much I PROMISE YOU how you look will take a backseat. Because I know exactly what videos you're talking about. I see them all the time and roll my eyes harder than I could possibly express in a gif.

But then you have the other end. Women who know what they're doing. Making up new insecurities that they themselves likely don't even really concern themselves with. Rather, they're complaint about only having "naturally half curled eyelashes" (idk if that's real i just made it up) is meant to prompt ass kissing comments that say "you think you have it bad..?" and "no! you're so gorgeous!". That is if they're not trying to sell some useless product to help you sate this newfound insecurity.

I'll be the first to defend and give the benefit of the doubt to women. But the ones who abuse this new climate of female empowerment piss me off to no end. I retain far more pity for teenage girls because that is a hard fucking time in terms of self image. But for grown women in those comments who, like you say, are like "now i have a new insecurity." I'm sorry, but if it was that easy? You were either looking for something new to add to your proud list of why you're "so ugly" or you are far too vulnerable to be using the internet for anything social media related.

[funkymbtifiction]

hi charity, i’m currently having a breakdown over how much i’ve tried so hard to get other people to like me. i’ve held onto relationships for too long and stayed even when i felt neglected, and i don’t know why.

I'm sorry to hear you are experiencing these emotions right now, but in a way, it's also good that you are going through them, angry about them, and realizing that you have not treated yourself well by asking for more within your friendships. Low self esteem can make it hard to feel like you have a right to anything -- the kind of friendship you want, for example. When you enter into a friendship willing to take whatever is offered, because you are so hungry for companionship, often you don't get what you need. One way to alter this going forward is to think about what you want from a relationship, and look for someone willing to meet that need (knowing that you will meet it in return)... and do not accept substitutes. No one person is going to meet all your relational needs, but you shouldn't feel like Substitute Person within your relationships. (Neglected, ignored, called when everyone else has said no.)

Part of this is also the bad side of sx-blindness within the Enneagram -- not having the confidence and inner drive to recognize when a relationship is dead and holds nothing for you and to move on in search of a more engaging spark; sx-blinds try and bring a spark to what they have, or fix it, or use social communication to keep it alive, but sometimes relationships are just for a short time and then fade. It's not wrong to get bored with one, or to grow in another direction, or to seek out sources of new stimulation. Give yourself permission to do that.

i believed people when they said it was my fault and always saw problems through other people’s eyes. when i do check in on how i feel, i end up invalidating it because “maybe they had good intentions” or “maybe i was wrong about the situation” or “maybe they’re not the same person anymore.”

I hear you. I have done this many times. It's lack of self-trust about my feelings, combined with a need to see the best in other people even when they do not deserve it. It's clinging to idealism and blind hope rather than being realistic about people's behavior not changing in the foreseeable future; what annoys you about them today is going to annoy you about them a lot more down the road. Their bad habits are not going to change unless they want to change. People DO change over time, but not the huge things about their personality. Second-guessing yourself is a way to remain attached within a relationship that is not functioning anymore. "I want to leave, but I'm scared so I'll make up stories in my head about why I should stick this out, give them another chance, how I could be wrong."

You know what? It's OKAY to dislike someone. it's OKAY not to want a relationship anymore. it's OKAY to find it boring. and it's okay to think bad thoughts about them, to be critical of their behavior toward you, and to even assume their intentions are bad if that's what seems true. The last one is hard, I know, but some people don't deserve the benefit of the doubt.

i think i’m scared of being alone without them, almost like having them around me is better than just the abyss of being alone and having no friends at all. it seems like they don’t even care about me really and only call me when they need something, and of course, i’ll do it, but i’m getting so fed up.

Time for the big sister bombshell: if they don't care about you, then they aren't your friends. So you ARE alone, just with needy and demanding strangers imposing on your time.

Stop giving them your time and energy when you get nothing in return. Give yourself permission to say no and not "assist."

I used to be afraid of having no friends. I hung onto lousy friendships for a long time because it was better than being alone. Well, the pandemic killed most of those relationships. I am now "alone." And it's not as scary as I thought. Do I miss having people to talk to and do things with in real life? Yes. But can I survive anyway? Yes. I used that time and distance to learn what I want -- a more meaningful and close friendship. And I willing to wait for it, for however long it takes, because I am worth more than a half-assed friendship. I'm not going to put all my time and energy into friendships where it's not reciprocated -- and I can usually tell within a few minutes of meeting someone if that's what would happen (me bearing all the burden of keeping this alive).

Don't fear solitude. It's not as horrific as you might think. Let yourself sit in it for a while and use that time to figure out what you want. And, don't give of yourself to people who don't deserve you, just so you can dab up the crumbs they drop for you off their feasting table. Love yourself enough to assert boundaries and think you are a person who deserves a friend who is as excited to see you, as you are to see them.

i get such tunnel vision with people, thinking they’re gonna be my best friends for life, that i don’t even realize they’re not that great of a friend.

It's easy to feel this way in the bloom of excitement, so learn to take a step back and evaluate them without the rose-colored glasses. Try and figure out what kind of a person they are -- if they have honor, if they are reliable, if they have traits you admire and want in your life.

i just feel so stagnant with the people in my life right now. i’m moving for college next year so hopefully i meet new, better people, but right now, i’m just so sad. i feel like people have this perception of me that i’m super confident and carefree, so they don’t think i dwell on emotions or something. i feel the need to keep this facade on, but as a result, no one really knows how lonely i feel.

It's important for you to start preparing now to meet those new people -- think about what's not working in your relationships now, and how you can change that moving forward. If you feel that your need to keep things positive/upbeat/carefree is a hindrance on people meeting your need for affirmation or love, then allow yourself to bring down that wall and admit it when you are sad, depressed, or struggling. It's not your job to be the cheerleader all the time. You do not NEED to wear the facade. You have a choice to take it off or put it on with other people. If what you want is intimacy, you need to slowly learn to be truthful with your feelings. Sometimes you really do just need to admit how lonely you are and let someone go through that beside you, or with you, or answer it with their own loneliness.

sorry if this is a bit of a downer, but i just needed to get this off my chest since i don’t have anyone i feel comfortable talking ab this with. i’ll probs be sending in another ask later about my potential mbti since i’m still searching. thanks so much, ur blog is such a safe space

I'm sorry you're in this space, but I really feel that if you can push your way through it, good things are awaiting you on the other side. But you have to be willing to think you deserve better friendships first.

[dearweirdme]

So many ex-taekookers and soon to be ex-taekookers are saying the same thing: how they feel like they were in a cult and now scared to admit to their other taekooker friends that they think Jennie is his girlfriend and feel sorry that they were manipulated into hating certain members by being fed manipulated content and false information all these years and missed so much and it's heartbreaking. I wish taekook space wasn't this toxic and full of misinformation because shipping is harmless and it's possible to ship taekook as friends which i'm sure they will but it's not fair. too many fans feel like they need to delete and create new accounts to start over and nobody should be this fearful or pressured into staying quiet and scared

Hi anon!

Fandom is a tricky place to be in under normal conditions, but a fandom like ours especially comes with a lot of difficult situations.

I’ve mentioned this before, because I feel it’s one of the most important drives humans have: always wanting to feel safe. What this translates to in a fandom is that people try to connect with each other and they are prone to take over other’s opinions. Taekook fandom comes with a lot of uncertainty (and uncertainty makes people feel unsafe). So when stuff happens that makes us question our believes (especially when people have little knowledge about how the music industry and pr actually work) some fans are prone to come up with… let’s say… very creative ideas (fantheories). Those theories are usually based on very little and rely heavily on what fans themselves theorize. Doesn’t mean they’re always wrong, but the evidence for those theories is so weak that it will never hold when actually debating it. Although I will look into fantheories on occasion, I never use them as base for my thoughts.. it’s just too unsure. But, a lot of fans will take any explanation they can get, only to feel more sure (safe) in their believes. That is how groupthink comes to be. Fans also like being in a group, they make a little community for themselves… and it’s never a great feeling to out your differing opinions in a group that is very passionate about it’s ideas on a certain topic. It makes them scared of possibly being thrown out of their community. It’s happening now also, some Taekookers are very vocal about leaving fandom and so their closest friends join in the parade. It’s a feeling of togetherness and has little to do with the actual events I feel.

That is where toxic environment begins. If you ever feel that you aren’t able to voice a different opinion, you are not in a great place.I always encourage people to think for themselves, it’s great if we agree on something, but I don’t mind disagreeing as well. It’s natural to disagree on stuff. There’s Taekookers I agree with, there’s Taekookers I disagree with. I’ve had angry asks from both sides. I don’t very much care. I’m here to voice my opinions, and I feel everyone should do the same.

Hating on certain members is so wrong. That is a severe lack in judgement and that is definitely not on Tae or Jk, but on those fans themselves. They have interpreted stuff wrong, they have not given anyone the benefit of doubts, they are the only ones to blame for them feeling this bad now.

Anyone who feels they have to delete or change their accounts is in it for themselves and for the few minutes of social media fame it might give them. It’s not about fandom, it’s about Tae and Jk.

Toxicity is awful. Think for yourself, have polite conversations, and block anyone who isn’t able to communicate (either agreeing or disagreeing) nicely.

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

Ghostwriter CH 14

Unbeta Unhinged Unedited || AO3 Wattpad

Character(s): Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, Logan Mitchell, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainwright,

Pairing(s): Kendall Knight/Veronica Clark, James Diamond & Kendall Knight & Logan Mitchell & Carlos Garcia, Veronica Clark/Curt Haverfield

Word Count: 5420

Tensions were high the next day at work, and everyone felt it. Gustavo and Kelly were in the thick of it because Ronnie and Kendall refused to be in the same room with one another. It was mildly inconvenient for the record producer because he had to walk back and forth between studios A and B. He tried to force Ronnie and Kendall into the same room, but they started screaming at each other. Carlos and Logan held Kendall back, and James held Ronnie back. But now he had Kelly going back and forth because Gustavo couldn’t be bothered walking between recording studios. He thought this feud of theirs was stupid. Unfortunately, to keep everyone happy, Gustavo had to keep them apart. Which wasn’t something he was happy about. 

“You have to apologize to her,” James sighed. He didn’t like being between his best friend and his new friend, but he had to side with Ronnie. 

“Why do I have to apologize to her? Why can’t she apologize to me, for once?” Kendall glowered. 

His friends were getting fed up with his attitude now that it affected them. 

“Can’t you man up and apologize?” Carlos scowled. Usually, he was so happy-go-lucky, but today, he was different. “It won’t hurt to say sorry.” 

“I’m always the one in the wrong! She hasn’t been all that nice to me either!” Kendall’s face was heating up. He felt like his friends were cornering him. 

“You’re only saying that because she’s reacting to how you treat her.” Logan pointed out. “It’s very obvious you’re making her reactive and then calling her mean.” 

“That is not what I’m doing.” Kendall shot back. 

The band was on their required thirty-minute break, but because of Kendall, Ronnie wasn’t allowed to spend time with them. So, instead of taking her break, she’s working with Gustavo on improving her songwriting. But because of this, she’ll be getting a break later. The record producer kept it together despite being frustrated with his band.  

“Aren’t you always talking about how we should take responsibility?” James was getting snappy. None of his friends usually had a short temper with Kendall, but they were no longer giving him the benefit of the doubt. The blonde didn’t like the accusatory looks in their eyes. He wasn’t a fan of how quickly they took Ronnie’s side despite only knowing her for three weeks. That was right; they all knew her for three weeks, and she was already making problems. She would have been fired already, but because Gustavo was afraid of opposing Griffin, there was no way she would be fired unless Griffin himself fired her. Kendall sighed and ran a hand down his face. He could try to get her fired. It was a possibility. 

“I don’t need to take responsibility for my actions, other– other than calling her a bitch…” 

“Really? You think?” Logan mocked. 

“I don’t get why you guys are getting mad at me for her. We were friends before Ronnie showed up, and we’ll be friends after Ronnie showed up.” 

“I’m mad because I can’t sit by and watch you ruin any more relationships. People want to be friends with you but can’t because you’re so obsessed with them thinking you’re a good person.” James was leaning against the wall. The group hadn’t made it to the cafeteria yet. 

“I’m not ruining anything–” 

“The interview with Deke,” Logan interrupted. “Not only were the suits going crazy trying to make us seem fun and likable, but when shit hit the fan, and he thought we were nothing but posers, you locked him in a closet.” 

“We all locked him in the closet! And– And at the end of the day, the review was positive!” Kendall argued. “It’s starting to feel like you three were waiting for me to mess something up so you can yell at me…” 

“We’re not– We’re not yelling at you.” James exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah, it sure seems like you aren’t.” Kendall scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“We’re not yelling at you!” James snapped. 

“Yes, you are!” 

“Why can’t you just apologize? It’ll save you a lot more time and will be much easier than being stubborn.” Carlos frowned and crossed his arms. He rarely ever smiled. 

“Is it that bad that I want her to apologize for calling me an asshole? Or for her to apologize for ignoring me?” Kendall’s face was on its way to turning red. 

“No, no. That’s not bad.” Logan’s expression changes. “It’s just… Whatever is going on between you two will start affecting the band.” 

“I know.” Kendall’s nostrils flared. “If she loves this band so much and wants to keep her job, then she’ll apologize to me.” He shrugged and leaned back. 

“Dude!” Carlos gasped. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“Me? You’re giving some girl special treatment.” 

“This isn’t special treatment. This is treating her like a normal person.” James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, maybe Hollywood did change you…” 

“Hollywood did not change me.” Kendall countered. “I always go to the hockey rink whenever I can. I keep you three out of trouble–” 

“I think he’s trying to say that you never acted like this before.” Logan interrupted again, putting a hand on Kendall’s shoulder. The blonde shrugged his hand off and pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“I’m the same person I’ve always been.” 

James, Carlos, and Logan exchanged weary looks. They didn’t believe him. They had spent most of their life together, and James especially knew that Kendall was never like this back in Minnesota. Mrs. Knight was in the process of getting Kendall a therapist, but the trio of friends had little faith. There is not little faith in Mrs. Knight but in the availability of a therapist in the area. It was very out of character for Kendall to be so vehemently angry at Ronnie, but people typically changed their opinions of him quickly to put him at ease. It was a little different with Ronnie because she didn’t want to bend to whatever emotional need he had to be liked by her. She stood her ground and wanted him to treat her with respect before she ever considered saying he was a good person. 

That was the main problem. Kendall couldn’t stand that she didn’t like him, and perhaps he couldn’t stand that she wanted someone like Curt, who was almost similar to him in every way. It had to be a sick joke that she hated him. His heartbreak wasn’t an excuse for how he treated her, but he was trying to fix it. He was trying to make reparations and show her he could be kind and generous. It frustrated him that Ronnie refused to see any of it. The songwriter outright refused to admit that he was nice even though he was looking out for her. Kendall frowned and leaned his head back against the wall. He didn’t get why she couldn’t see what good of a person he was. She was intentionally trying to hate him to get under his skin. 

Well, if that was her goal, she succeeded. But why did it bother him so much? Why did he want Ronnie to like him? There isn’t much to it. He wanted Deke to like the band. He wanted Lucy to like him and to stop calling their music cute. But why was it so different with Ronnie? What made her stand out? What made her different? Why did it bother him so much? Why did she bother him so much? Was it that she spoke her mind? Was it that she wasn’t going to fold so easily? Why did he need to try so hard? What would he gain? 

Kendall groaned and covered his face with his hands. He wanted it to end. It was like they were playing a game of cat and mouse, and it was as annoying as frustrating. He just wanted Ronnie to tell him that he was a nice person. He knew he was nice, but he needed her to admit it. He needed her to tell him he was a nice person so he could sleep better at night. He could stop thinking about her late at night when his friends were already asleep. If she told him what he wanted to hear, all of this could have been avoided. It would have spared her the pain and the anguish. But she was as stubborn as Kendall is. Their personalities were like oil and water. 

Maybe Ronnie didn’t want to say he was a good person because she wanted him to confront whatever about himself made him so desperate for external validation. Perhaps Kendall didn’t like that she could see through the facade. She looked right through him the day they went sightseeing at the lake. He was laid bare. In his life, he put on about a thousand faces to accommodate people. To make everyone happy. Being confronted with someone he couldn’t appease or satiate was… Alarming. He felt broken. He felt something was wrong with him because he couldn’t make her happy. He couldn’t make her feel better, yet someone else who is practically the same as him can make her smile. It was like he was looking into a sick and twisted mirror. Curt was everything Kendall wanted to be, and Curt didn’t disappoint Ronnie. 

Carlos presumably left to get something to eat. Logan and James stayed with Kendall in the hallway. 

“We want to help,” Logan said quietly. “It’s not healthy holding everything in, and it’s certainly not healthy to hate someone this much.” 

“I don’t– I don’t hate her.” Kendall took a shaky breath. 

“You hate yourself?” James quirked a brow. 

“Yes?” Kendall sighed and sank in his chair. “I don’t know.” 

“She doesn’t hate you if that helps.” James switched his weight from one foot to the other. “She’s just upset with how you’ve been the past three weeks.” 

“I know…” 

“We don’t hate you,” Logan added quietly. 

“I know…” 

“Let’s go get something to eat, yeah? I bet all this emotional talk has made you hungry.” James cracked a grin and tilted his head toward the cafeteria. 

“I could go for a ham and cheese sandwich, honestly.” Kendall stood up and stretched. His shoulder blades were tight from all the hunching over. It felt good to stretch it out. His posture had been getting horrible lately. 

“Do they even have ham and cheese?” Logan asked no one in particular. 

Typically, Mrs. Knight made the boys' bag lunches because she didn’t trust the cafeteria in Rocque Records to be nutritious and healthy for her son and his friends. She was half right. Carlos usually ate the cafeteria food along with the bag lunch. Mrs. Knight made him because he’s always hungry, no matter how much protein she gives him. Because of him, Gustavo has a steady supply of corndogs in the cafeteria. Despite how much he yells at them, the record producer wants them to be happy because he fears the day they’ll get fed up with him and switch recording companies. That would be the day his career is finally over. 

Kendall sighed and shuffled his feet, following his friends down the hall. Part of him was at least curious to check in with Ronnie, Gustavo, and Kelly in recording studio B. He wasn’t interested in hearing Gustavo yell at her but wanted to hear her sing again. It was cute watching her sing and dance like no one was watching. She could let go of how rigid and anxious she usually is because, with no one around her, she isn’t afraid of social scrutiny. In some sort of way, Kendall and Ronnie are technically the same in that regard. Maybe that was why it’s so triggering that she won’t call him a good person and doesn’t like him. He can’t fathom someone like himself hating him. 

“Pop music 101, simple instructions for a good first impression.” 

Gustavo smacked the board with a pointer. He had Kelly bring in a whiteboard and various expo markers. He wrote the lesson title on the board. Pop 101 was the only pair of words, and it was written in red marker. 

“What do all pop songs have in common?” 

“They’re catchy?” Ronnie answered. She flipped to a blank page in her notebook to write down any crucial information. The songwriter had been waiting three weeks to be taught about music by the Gustavo Rocque. 

“Wrong.” Gustavo pressed a button, and it made an alarm sound. 

“No, I think she’s right.” Kelly side-eyed Gustavo. 

“Well, they’re all catchy, but that’s not what I’m looking for.” Gustavo sighed and shook his head. 

“They’re written in cords 1-4-6-4?” Ronnie tilted her head. 

“Okay, something tells me you have no idea what you’re doing.” Gustavo took a deep breath. He turned so that his back faced her. He was at least under the impression that she knew something about music theory. 

“What do you mean? I know what I’m doing. I wrote–” 

“What you wrote isn’t the point. Do you know anything about music theory?” Gustavo wheeled around. He was fidgeted with the pointer. 

“No…” 

“That’s what I thought.” Gustavo’s nostrils flared, and he took another deep breath to calm himself. “Writing good music is essentially dumb luck unless you understand what you’re doing.” 

Ronnie tried not to take that personally. She knew that was only a fact. It wasn’t that her songs were shoddily pieced together even though she had no idea what she was doing in her program, but they kind of were. But she was meticulous about it so that her music would sound good. Kelly sat at one of the desks and leaned her cheek in her palm. She was frowning at Gustavo. He wasn’t yelling at Ronnie but wasn’t being as kind as she wanted him to be. 

“You are right about the chords, although not all pop songs use the same chords. Those are relatively the backbone.” Ronnie quickly jotted it down. She was only guessing random numbers. “Teaching you the basics isn’t exactly something I wanted to be doing…” 

Kelly shot him a look, and Gustavo tugged at the collar of his tracksuit. 

“Do you at least know what a music staff is?” 

“Yes.” Ronnie blinked twice. She wasn’t impressed. 

“Okay, so we don’t have to go that basic.” Gustavo sighed. “Thank God…” 

“So!” Gustavo clapped his hands together. “What I want you to do is analyze something like… Justin Bieber’s song Baby.” 

“I’m sorry. You want me to analyze music from someone else?” Ronnie furrowed her brows. “Doesn’t that defeat the whole–” 

“To familiarize yourself with pop music.” 

“But isn’t pop music and boy band music like… Different?” 

“No. Boy band music is inherently pop music in most cases.” 

“Okay…” 

“What kind of music do you usually listen to?” Gustavo quirked a brow. 

“Uhm…” Ronnie chewed the inside of her cheek. “Classic rock and alternative.” 

“Oh, you will need to familiarize yourself with pop music.” Gustavo turned and wiped down the board. “On top of analyzing Justin Bieber’s song, I want you to look into other boy bands like The Wanted or One Direction.” 

“But those are our–” 

“Stop talking back to me!” Gustavo snapped. He accidentally dropped the whiteboard eraser. 

“Okay, okay.” Ronnie held her hands up in defense. “I’m sorry. I’m confused, that’s all.” 

“All I want you to do is listen to those bands and analyze them for your personal benefit. You’ve never previously worked with a boy band, much less recorded your music.” Gustavo wrung his hands together. “Kelly, why did you have to get her?” 

“Oh, no. You are not blaming me.” Kelly leaned back and crossed her arms. “She’s doing her best with what she was given. It’s not my fault you haven’t been teaching her anything or making her write songs day and night.” 

“That’s not what I’ve been– You know what? I’m not going to deal with this.” Gustavo left the marker on the lip of the whiteboard and walked out of the recording studio. 

Ronnie wordlessly watched him leave. She sank into her seat, put her head on the desk, and covered her face with her arms. The one time Gustavo offers to teach her something, she learns practically nothing, and he walks out on the lesson before it is even finished. At this rate, she would be better off researching music theory independently before Gustavo could teach her something memorable. But maybe it was her fault for being so clueless. No. It wasn’t her fault. Mostly, it was because Gustavo was unprepared for her to come into Rocque Records. If anything, the one who should be blamed is Arthur Griffin because it was his idea to replace Gustavo as the songwriter for Big Time Rush. She didn’t even know why Griffin liked her so much. 

“You’re doing great.” She picked her head up slightly and looked over at Kelly. “Gustavo is just… frustrated.” 

“I know.” Ronnie sat up straight and pulled her hair out of her face. “I’m frustrated I’ve learned nothing.” 

“He’s not teacher material, and I bet by the end of the day, he’ll be hiring a teacher who knows music theory.” Kelly smiled brightly, trying to spark hope in the blue-haired girl. 

“I guess. I should be glad he hasn’t fired me yet.” 

“Trust me, I don’t think he wants to fire you.” Kelly glanced at the door. She had a feeling someone was eavesdropping. “Have you gone on your lunch break yet?” 

“No. Ronnie shook her head. 

“In that case, go get something to eat. Something tells me he won’t be coming back anytime soon.” 

“Thanks, Kelly.” Ronnie smiled slightly. “I know what I would do without you here.” 

“I think the boys and Gustavo would drive you crazy.” Kelly laughed lightly. “Now, go on. I’ve heard the cafeteria had cheese pizza.” 

Ronnie’s eyes lit up. She grabbed her rucksack and practically bolted out the door of Studio B. She completely missed Kendall, who was eavesdropping on their conversation. He didn’t have enough time to stop her. She was surprisingly fast on her feet. Kendall sighed and followed after her. He wasn’t going to apologize. He didn’t need to apologize. Ronnie is the one who should be sorry. She’s given him nothing but grief these past three weeks. It wasn’t fair. 

“I know you’re following me, Kendall.” Ronnie was waiting for the elevator. She sighed and glanced in his direction. She wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

“Well? Do you have anything to say?” 

“What do you mean?” She was looking down at her phone, idly scrolling through text messages. 

“You’re so full of shit.” 

“Well, Kendall, if you’re not going to tell me what you want me to say.” She put her phone back in her pocket and looked up at him. Her face was blank. “Then fuck off.” 

“Cunt…” Kendall muttered. He turned on his heel and made it seem like he would walk away, but the elevator signaled it was on their floor. 

Ronnie stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. After a moment, the doors closed, and she raised her middle finger and smiled. 

“You’re a piece of shit!” 

Kendall stared wide-eyed at the closed elevator doors. A vein on his forehead twitched. She had a lot of nerves after setting him up for speed dating and calling him all sorts of names. He called the elevator back up to the floor. She wasn’t going to get her satisfying final laugh. As he expected, the elevator doors opened, and she stood there. For a second, she was dumbfounded, but then she realized Kendall had called the elevator. He stepped into the elevator, and she pressed against the back corner. 

“Seriously, fuck you.” His eyes darkened. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone?” 

“Leave you alone? We work in the same building!” Kendall snapped. “It’s not like I want to run into you in the halls or see you when trying to have a good time with my friends. Yeah, they were my friends first!” 

“I’m not trying to take your friends.” She tried to make herself appear small. Suddenly, being stuck in an enclosed space with him was terrifying. “I don’t get what your problem is!” 

“You! You’re my problem!” 

“Excuse me?” Ronnie blinked twice. “All I wanted was to be friends with you. You’re the one with the attitude problem!” 

“I have an attitude? Me? Have you seen yourself?” 

“Okay. Don’t get snarky with me, you dollar-store popstar.” 

“You have no talent. You’re just riding on Gustavo’s coattails.” Kendall stepped closer. 

At that moment, Ronnie felt like she was caged. It happened in the blink of an eye. She slapped him hard. She squeezed past him when the elevator doors opened, but he was dazed and ran out. Kendall’s hand hesitantly felt his cheek. There was a growing red handprint on his cheek. She didn’t slap him because she was upset about what he said. She wanted him to get away from her. She was utterly terrified of being cornered like that, and she couldn’t trust that Kendall wasn’t going to try something. Ronnie found the guys in the cafeteria. 

“You,” James squeaked and jumped to his feet. 

“Ronnie! Hey!” 

“Talk some sense into your stupid friend!” She jeered at him. “He corned me in the fucking elevator and started yelling at me!” 

Carlos dropped his corndog. Logan’s pencil snapped. The three of them stared at Ronnie as though she had three heads. She looked at all three of them, hands on her hips. 

“We tried to get through to him,” Carlos mumbled with a mouthful of half-eaten corndog. 

“Whatever you did, it didn’t help.” 

“You expect us to control him? He’s listening to his broken moral compass.” Logan looked down at his broken pencil. Ronnie sighed and dug around in her rucksack, and she tossed him a pencil sharpener. 

“Honestly, what is his problem?” Ronnie sat down at the table and leaned her head on her arms. “I don’t get it…” 

“He’s been all sorts of broken since Jo broke up with him.” James was filing his nails. “But he won't get better until he tells us what’s happening.” 

“I have never met anyone as stubborn as him,” Ronnie mumbled, her eyes fluttered closed. 

“He’s always been like this.” Carlos chimed in. “But his behavior has been kicked up to a hundred for some reason.” 

“I know why,” Ronnie sat up slightly and leaned her chin in her palm. “It’s because of me. He doesn’t want me here.” 

“What? No!” James gasped. “Kendall wants you here almost as much as we want you here. Give it a week, and if his behavior doesn’t change, you should bring it up with Gustavo.” 

“What would Gustavo do to help?” Logan asked, not bothering to look up from his math homework. “Gustavo is the last person he listens to.” 

“What do you mean? Gustavo and Kelly always manage to knock some sense into him.” Carlos’ voice was muffled by food. Talking with his mouthful was a horrible habit. Ronnie grimaced and turned so she was facing Logan. 

“Yeah, but that only applies when the four of us are doing something we shouldn’t.” The nerdy boy reasoned. 

“We all know Gustavo and Kendall are more alike than us.” Carlos countered. “If he’ll listen to anyone, it’ll be Gustavo.” 

“Just say you don’t want to help him.” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“That’s not it,” Carlos got a tad defensive. “It’s just… We can’t help him. We’re just his friends. An adult would make much more progress than we ever could.” 

“There’s already an adult helping him, his mother.” James blew on his nails to get rid of the dust particles left behind by the nail file. 

After work, Ronnie received a text from Curt asking if she wanted to grab coffee at one of the local cafes. Going to a cafe saved Ronnie from hiding in the Palm Woods from Kendall. It was ridiculous it had come to this. She shouldn’t have to hide from someone, but he wouldn’t seem to let go that she didn’t like him. He was downright obsessive. It was creepy. The songwriter didn’t want to ask one of the drivers from Rocque Records to take her to the cafe in the limo. She walked there. Her music blasted through her headphones. She decided to listen to some boybands and spent fifteen minutes downloading music onto her MP3 Player during her break. Gustavo was right about one thing: she needed to get accustomed to their music. The past two songs she had written had to be saved by the record producer, or else they would have bombed horribly. She was thankful he wasn’t trying to embarrass her in front of the CEO. 

The address she was given was quite far from Rocque Records. She almost regretted walking there. Taking out her earbuds, she pushed open the glass door, and a bell rang above it. Despite the fact the seasons didn’t visually change all that much in Los Angeles, the cafe smelt like pumpkin spice and warm apple pie. She looked around, but she couldn’t see him. The barista was younger than her and wore black makeup, almost like Callie. Their nametag read Ashlynn. Ronnie ordered a pumpkin spice latte. She had barely read the menu, and it was the first drink she had set her sights on. While waiting by the pickup counter, part of her wanted to ask Curt if he was already there, but she noticed someone in a window seat. He wore a hat and black sunglasses, but the hockey jersey was unmistakable. 

Ronnie slid into the booth opposite Curt with her pumpkin spice latte. She could smell the coffee in his cup. The baseball cap visor covered his eyes, even though he was wearing sunglasses. 

“If you’re afraid of being seen, why did you ask to come here?” 

“I figured it was the perfect place to meet you, and it doesn’t matter if someone sees me with you.” Curt took off his sunglasses, but he kept the hat. 

“Oh.” Ronnie blushed and looked away. She wasn’t used to having a guy around who wanted her. Maybe Kendall’s silly grudge was getting to her. 

“How was work?” 

“It was… Work.” Ronnie sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears. 

“What happened?” Curt quirked a brow. He sat up straighter. The light in his eyes shifted. He went into protective boyfriend mode. 

“Nothing– Nothing bad happened.” Ronnie sipped on her latte and looked anywhere but at him. Considering Kendall had punched him in the jaw, Curt wasn’t all that fond of him, but he knew Ronnie had to be around him because of her job. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the way of her career. He trusted that she could take care of herself, and if needed, she would manage to put Kendall in his place. 

“I slapped him.” Curt choked on his coffee and started coughing. He slammed his fist against his chest. 

“Excuse me– What?” 

“He’s so obsessed with who does or doesn’t get along with him.” Curt relaxed slightly. He’d expected Kendall to have done something horrible. He didn’t want to expect it, but because of the way the singer was acting, he was a bit worried. 

“Have you… I don't know. Talked to Gustavo about this?” 

“I don’t want to bother him yet. If it gets worse, I’ll involve him or Kelly.” 

“Okay,” Curt let out a breath of relief. “At least you know you have people to turn to.” 

“It’s not all bad,” Ronnie chuckled awkwardly. “James, Logan, and Carlos are fun to hang out with. Actually, James helped pick out my outfit on our first date.” 

“Really?” Curt quirked a brow. “I didn’t know he was into fashion.” 

“I didn’t either, but we just met them again.” 

“Even if I’ve just met you, I’m glad I did.” Curt gently squeezed her hand. 

“You’re just saying that,” Ronnie giggled and looked away. Was it possible for her to blush even more? 

“What? No. I’m glad I met you.” Curt smiled. His eyes gleamed with adoration. Ronnie’s heart swelled. If it got any bigger, she swore it was going to explode.

“I– I– wha– “ Ronnie stuttered, her brain short-circuited. 

She was speechless. Curt's sweetness was startling. It was the last thing she expected, and it was a welcome change after dealing with Kendall at work. She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. The songwriter would be lying if she said she didn’t like the positive attention. It made her feel pretty. It made her feel important. And when they sat in silence, she didn’t feel the need to speak because she couldn’t stand the quiet. There was a comfortable silence shared between them. The cafe was cozy; if he hadn’t invited her, she would never have known this place existed. 

Kendall was right about one thing: she didn’t go out often. It was hard because she had to follow Big Time Rush around since they were her new friends, but she couldn’t help but think he wanted her to stop following them around. Maybe Kendall didn’t like that his friends had quickly become her friends. Perhaps he wanted her to get her friends. That was easier said than done because most people knew about the Big Time Rush and often hung out with them. Technically, finding someone in L.A. who didn’t know who Big Time Rush was would be impossible. Practically everyone knew their names and who they were because of their quick rise to fame. She was a nobody in their shadow, but it wasn’t like she desperately clung to them for a piece of their fame. She was their songwriter. That’s it. 

Ronnie and Curt stayed in the cafe for a few hours. He helped her figure out lyrics for a new song. It was easier with his help when she realized halfway through the song was about him. She felt a bit strange writing a song about him, but it came easier than telling him everything that was building in her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off by being honest about her feelings. 

Do you see what I see

You and me, it’s like a movie scene

That’s the way you know it should be

The two of us together, girl, can you picture this

The songwriter glanced up at Curt and giggled. She didn’t see a future with him; they were only seventeen, but it was nice to think about her possible future. But if she thinks about it for too long, she starts thinking about how time passes. She had only been in Los Angeles for three weeks and managed to fight with the lead singer of Big Time Rush and get a boyfriend. Things like this only ever happened in the movies. Sometimes, she didn’t think love was real because she had been waiting for it to find her for so long, but she stared lovingly at her while she jotted down the lyrics she was thinking of. Tomorrow, she could propose this new song to Gustavo or ask him how to improve it. 

Then, an image of Kendall flashed in her mind. She accidentally scribbled an inky black line on the page. It startled her. For some reason, she envisioned him pouting on the couch, holding an ice pack on his face. Some small part of her thought it was kind of cute to see him pouting like a child. Shaking her head, her hair fell in front of her face. 

“Are you okay?” Curt held the door open for her. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” 

“You got quiet after a while,” 

“I’m probably just a little tired…” Ronnie rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. She shivered. Since the sun was starting to set earlier because it was rolling into autumn, it was getting colder the closer it got to nighttime.

Curt offered to drive her home since he had driven to the cafe. Ronnie leaned against the passenger-side door. She shivered and pulled her sweatshirt tighter. Even with the heater on, she was so cold. Maybe she was getting sick?

[lesbegays]

thinking about how i hate my boss’s husband <3

[infinitefandomimagines]

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

-

REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

-

"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

-

TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter  

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Wounded

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic] Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure. A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)

Masterlist

You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.

You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.

The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.

The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.

Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.

It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.

You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island  snacking on some chips.

You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.

"I can feel you staring, Y/N."

Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.

"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.

"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"

His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.

"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.

"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."

You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.

"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.

"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.

You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard." You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?

"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."

"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.

"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.

Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.

From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.

It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.

The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.

It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.

It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.

"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.

"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.

"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.

"Just wanted a snack-,"

"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.

"I… I’m not… Steve-,"

Steve took a deep breath.

"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."

"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"

"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.

You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.

"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.

"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.

"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."

Steve scoffed, "Helping?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.

"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."

"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.

"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."

The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.

"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"

"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."

"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.

"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.

"It’s been so fucking scary,"

Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.

"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.

"Thank you, Buck," you said.

Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."

Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."

With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.

"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."

You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.

[enchantedblackrose]

Like I Love You

Jay Halstead/Plus sized Reader

Summary: Jay arrives at your apartment to pick you up for a date, but you're filled with self doubt.

¡Warnings! This potentially could be triggering. Poor body image, possible body dysmorphia, specific mentions of feelings of not being enough because of physical appearance

<Please, please lmk if I need to add any warnings.>

Loosely inspired by One Direction's Little Things

Like I Love You 

Your head throbs as hot tears of frustration continue to fall from your eyes. 

It was absolutely ridiculous to be this upset trying to pick out a decent outfit. After all, you've been successfully dressing yourself since age three.

But you don't have the mindset of a toddler. You're a jaded young woman with society's disgusting definition of beauty constantly shoved in your face. 

Deep down you know better. You know that the numbers on the scale give no indication of your beauty nor do they dictate your worth.

Sighing and trying to remind yourself that you are pretty, you again glance in the full length mirror. Standing there in nothing more than a top and underwear, fresh tears immediately fill your eyes. You only see flaws. Resisting the urge to poke at the cellulite near your thighs, you focus on your shirt. But the sleeves are cutting into your arms making them look weird. No, not weird. Fat. The too tight sleeves cause your arms to bulge. And the material clings to your soft tummy. You pinch the excess belly fat between your thumbs and index fingers, wishing you could squeeze it away.

You feel so ugly and gross. Angrily you pull the shirt off and throw it clear across your bedroom, where it joins a pair of jeans you couldn't breathe in and numerous other offending articles of clothing. None of which you look good in either.

You find an oversize t-shirt and slip it on before you just collapse on that very spot of plush carpeting.

Tears still roll down your face. All you wanted was something cute to wear. To be pretty. And go out with your boyfriend for a date night. He's a detective for the Chicago police department. The hours are already long and sometimes abnormal, but this week he, and the rest of the special unit he's a part of,  were logging extra hours on a particular difficult case. You haven't seen much of each other recently so you were especially giddy when you received his text earlier in the day saying there had been a break in the case which meant he could swing by your place and take you out on a proper date. Your reply had been almost immediate, telling him how wonderful that sounded.

You were surprised to hear from him again, still promising to take you out, but proposing you both meet up with his coworkers after dinner for some drinks. He included "begging" and "puppy dog eyes" in the message. 

Though you wanted to, you couldn't exactly say no for several reasons. You had already agreed to the date, so he knew you were free. Part of you suspected that he had done it on purpose. You'd accuse your favorite detective of entrapment later. 

You also were fully aware how much Jay wanted to introduce you to the coworkers he considered friends, having been invited to go out with them several times before. You kept putting it off.

Not because you had no interest in meeting everyone. Rather, the idea fed your worst insecurities.

What if they don't think I'm good enough? They're going to wonder what he sees in me. Then Jay will start wondering too. 

Wanting to do this solely for Jay's benefit, believing he deserved this after the hellish week at work, you went to your bedroom to plan your outfit. That's how you ended up in this nightmare. You only want to look your best, like you belong with Jay.

Nothing in your closet said that though. The truth of the matter was no one like him should be with someone who looks like you.

Cries turn to sobs. You draw your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You hear the door to your apartment unlock, Jay using his copy of your key to let himself in. Hastily, you wipe at your face, not wanting him to see you like this; yet you can't find the will to stand. A loud, nasally sniff escapes you.

"Babe?" His still unaware voice calls out from the hallway. "I got us reservations." You don't answer back right away and you hear his footsteps approach. 

Having found you, he stops in the doorway. "Whoa. What kind of nuclear clothing explosion happened here?" He indicates to the mounds of clothes which surround you and cover the better part of the carpet and bed. His laughter dies as soon as he sees your tear-streaked, puffy face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" his worry evident in both his voice and light eyes. He looks you up and down, frantically searching for any sign of what has you like this.

You mumble incoherently.

"What?"

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The floor begs to differ," he teases. You glare back, in no mood for jokes no matter how well intended. He holds up his hands signaling he meant no harm before he pulls you to your feet. "What's going on?" You huff a heavy sigh in reply. His hand caresses your cheek and softly "hmms?" at you encouragingly.

"Nothing fits right," you confess. He hesitates unsure how to respond, so you continue. "I look extra fat in everything."

Jay frowns. "I doubt that very much. You always look good. I love how you look dolled up when we go out and I love when you're in an old tee and sweats."

"That's nice of you to say-"

"Well I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true," he cuts you off.

You give a tiny, weak smile. "I hate how I look." Your voice cracks. New tears sting your eyes.

He brushes the few teardrops that manage to escape with his thumb. "Baby, what are you talking about? You're beautiful." His voice is soft with a hint of sadness hearing you talk this way.

"This is not beautiful." You pat your flabby stomach, then your thighs. 

Carefully stepping to avoid the clothes which litter the floor, Jay makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge, still mindful of the garments piled there as well. He opens his arms, indicating for you to sit on his lap.

"My huge ass will probably crush you," you mutter.

"Baby-"

 

Exasperated you throw your arms up, "I look nothing like you!"

"Well I'm a guy and you're not so…"

"Stop. I mean you look like a freaking model. That face and those abs for days." You catch him looking smug, no doubt a witty remark is at his lips, but one glance at you and he leaves it unsaid. You continue. Your voice hushed, "I'm afraid of what people might think or say when they see us together. It's why I've been so reluctant to meet your friends."

His eyes sadden. He reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but stern, almost begging you to believe his words. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I honestly had no idea, but listen to me, please. The only people who get a say about our relationship are in this room right now, okay? So our opinions are the only ones that matter. You. Are. Beautiful." He pauses only to shush you when he sees your mouth open. "The way your mind works fascinates me. Your sense of humor is amazing. You continuously show compassion for others, which in this world is not always easy. I swear your goodness is innate. Your laugh is intoxicating. When you smile...I wish you could see how your face lights up and your body turns me on exactly how it is. I have never been attracted to anyone as much as I am to you. I love you."

Jay's words move you, but they're not enough to silence your insecurities. "Even though I don't have a thigh gap?"

His brows furrow. "I...don't know what that means."

"It means my thighs touch each other. They're not supposed to."

"Says who?"

"...society."

"Society's ugly, not you or your thighs." His fingers trace nondescript patterns on the bare skin in question. "Besides, thick thighs save lives."

"Jay!" You laugh despite yourself. He smiles in return and presses his lips to your temple.

"I love you too. You know that, right?" You ask, realizing you hadn't said it back and he nods. A hand intertwines with his as you look in his eyes, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You're not. We all have insecurities or things we don't like about ourselves. I just wish you weren't so hard on yourself. I'm sorry too if you felt I was putting pressure on you to meet everyone."

"Not at all," you shake your head. "That's just me being me."

"Still, if my friends have a problem with us being together for any reason, they're not the people I think they are. Truly though, they'd love you. Hell, if we didn't show up together I could see one of them hitting on you," Jay pauses if imagining it.  "But seriously. They'd adore you. First, because they're going to see firsthand how good you are for me. Then because you're you. Funny, smart-"

"But I want to be pretty, Jay. And look like we belong together."

Jay sighs, but not out of frustration with you. He's only concerned."You are. And we do. I know nothing I say is going to magically change how you see yourself...I get that. You have to be the one to work this out. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes and love yourself like I love you. Maybe then you'd understand you're so worthy of self-love. I promise, I'm right here and I'm going to keep reminding you how beautiful you are in hopes you'll start to see it."

Your hand caresses his cheek as you fight the urge to cry again. He leans into your touch. "You do help," you tell him because it's true and to reassure him. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm really going to try to not be so down on myself. Besides. I  really don't want to ruin any more of our nights."

He waves you off. "A night trying to get you to see your beauty is not ruined. And the night's still young. We'll do whatever you're up for. Go out for a bit. Stay in and order food. Whatever."

A small smile appears on your face. You quickly peck his lips with yours. "I just want to wash my face before we do anything." Jay nods. You slide off his lap and head to your bathroom across the hall.

The light flickers for a second as soon as you hit the switch. You go to the sink, turning the water on and letting it run to get to the perfect temperature. Standing there, you glance into the vanity mirror. Your face is still slightly puffy with a few soft pink splotches across your cheeks from all your crying. You splash the water on your face and repeat the action several more times before using a fluffy towel to pat dry your face. You stare back into the mirror. And smile. It reaches your eyes and illuminates your face. You reach a realization. However fleeting or permanent, you don't know. But right now in this moment, you feel it. 

You're pretty.

-

[butgilinsky]

out of love // jm

warning; a lot of mental health stuff, angst, throwing up, kind of alludes to an anxiety attack, alludes to previous mental health problems but nothing explicit

summary; jj falls out of love with y/n and she catches on

word count; 2.8k+

it’s really sad and i’m v sorry but i’m v sad so i had to channel it somehow

she knew things were rocky between them. for a while she refused to believe it. she’d spent too much of her life with jj; experienced too many things. the thought of throwing it all away without any reason to do so felt ridiculous. but maybe it would’ve been easier. it would’ve been easier to drop it, and separate herself from the situation entirely. 

that’s what she should’ve done. she should’ve trusted her gut when it was screaming at her to just walk away from it all, no questions asked. 

but she didn’t. she kept trying, and she kept getting stood up. she kept calling, and getting the same voicemail she’d memorized by now. she kept trying to talk to him but there was always an excuse. something here or something there, but whatever he had to do was never where she was. 

but she tried one more time. she figured she would ask one more time before her body and mind gave into the reality of the situation. she asked him the day before, figuring that if she gave him extra time to prepare it’d be easier for him to remember. she tried to give him the benefit of the the doubt. 

but he didn’t show, again. she sat, by herself, on the hood of her car that was parked in a place it’d been parked too many times to count. she stared up at the sky, thoughts racing around her mind while soft music played from her car radio. 

the only thing that made her move from her spot was the fear that she was running her car battery. she would’ve gone home, but she knew the wrath of her parents after being woken up at whatever time it currently was was worse than waking up one of the pogues. 

so she drove to john b’s. and she thought it would be similar to other nights, where everyone else was asleep and she would just sleep on the couch, but her luck seemed to run out. once she pulled up next to the van they always took on their expeditions, she saw everyone sitting out on john b’s porch, laughing and drinking. 

and though the sight of her friends would’ve normally made her smile, the sight of jj play fighting with pope made her blood boil. she would’ve sat in the car to cool off but her headlights had already alerted them that she was there, so attention was on her within seconds. 

so she climbed out of the car, giving a short wave to the group before trying to walk into the house. she tried to walk past all of them, and had almost made it all the way to the door before sarah stepped in front of it, and shot her a look that insisted on her telling the group what was wrong. 

“y/n?” kie’s voice filled the air, but she tried to ignore it. 

“baby, what’s wrong?” she rolled her eyes at jj’s voice, which didn’t slip past sarah. she raised her eyebrows at the girl’s gesture, but of course received no explanation. 

“nothing.” she whispered softly, trying to smile at sarah and move past her but a hand was on her elbow before she shrugged it off quickly. 

“doesn’t seem like nothing.” jj mumbled to himself, trying to reach for her again but she took a step to the side. 

the group of friends was thoroughly confused now, wondering what happened to their friend to make her so distant towards everyone, especially jj. she never acted like this. she never came home at such a late hour in this type of mood unless she was exhausted from work, but even then she would sit on the porch with them and drink a bit before bed. 

“why are you being like this?” jj’s tone made her roll into tight fists at her sides, her lips pursing slightly while she shook her head. “y/n, seriously what’s your problem-”

“my problem, jj, is that you left me out in the middle of the cut for hours without letting me know you were going to blow me off. again.” his expression dropped, his jaw following suit as he stared at her. 

his brain worked through every excuse he could think of, trying to find anything to say to the girl, and she waited. she stared at him, her head fallen slightly to the side as she stared at him, nothing but stuttered messes fell from his lips. 

“save your breath, jj. i’m just going to get my stuff and go home.” she tried to walk inside, this time having a clear path through the door. 

jj followed behind her, rambling on about being able to explain, and that he was incredibly sorry. he was trying to fill her head with any reassurance she needed to give him a second to have a conversation with her. the realization that she was truly fed up and exhausted with everything hit him when she walked straight into the room they usually shared and pulled out her duffle bag from underneath the bed and started shoving things into it. 

she started with clothes, quickly moving to anything she could pick up that belonged to her around the room and cramming it into the bag that clearly wasn’t made to fit all of it. 

“y/n, what are you doing? stop packing for a second, please. i can explain, y/n-”

“then explain!” she yelled, her hands falling from the bag for a moment. 

“i- i forgot, baby. and i know that’s stupid but-” she scoffed quickly, starting to pack again before jj tried to grab her bag. “just listen to me!” 

she stopped, watching him throw the bag onto the floor in frustration as he tugged at his hair. she ran a hand through her hair as she stared at him, waiting for him to say quite literally anything to her. 

her eyes were beginning to water as her adrenaline wore off and the realization of everything was setting in. the last few months had been different but the past few weeks had felt like she didn’t know the boy standing in front of her anymore. 

she didn’t know what she was supposed to do anymore. she was running out of ideas. she had tried everything she could think of, and still, she stood in front of her best friend and boyfriend, and he was staring at the floor, not being able to put together a coherent thought.

“jj, do you love me?” he looked up at her quickly, confusion and a mix of other emotions running through his eyes as he stared at her. 

“of course i do.” her chest ached, his tone simply not the same as it usually was. she’d asked him the question a thousand times, her love for the simple affirmation growing stronger every time he told her. but this time, something was different. 

“are you in love with me?” 

he couldn’t answer. he didn’t know why, but his breathing paused and his throat tightened. his mouth was hanging open but nothing was coming out of it. his mind was racing but none of his thoughts passed through his lips as he stared at the girl he’d known and loved for years. 

so she nodded, and she moved to pick up her bag, going back to shoving things inside of it. her movements quickened, along with her breathing until she couldn’t breathe correctly, and she had to stop. she ran her hands over her face and covered it, trying to wipe away any wetness from her cheeks. 

“y/n, you have to breathe, baby.” jj grabbed both of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face gently and looking into her eyes that were glossed over with tears. “breathe.” 

her ears were ringing, and her chest was heaving, but her mind was moving so fast she couldn’t focus on anything. she couldn’t hear herself sobbing, and she couldn’t hear jj talking anymore. she could barely feel him pull her head to his chest, trying to force her to focus on his breathing and his heart beat. 

his heart beat was surprisingly steady, along with his breathing. he held the girl tightly, heart breaking as she completely broke down in his arms. and the fact that he had broken her, was possibly the worst feeling. 

“what did i do?” she sobbed into his chest, not having the strength to push him away from her, even if she wanted to. 

“you didn’t do anything.” he whispered softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head gently. “you did everything you should’ve done. i just,” he sighed heavily, setting his forehead on top of the girl’s head as he searched for the words. “i just fell out of love, baby.” 

she gathered the strength then, gently pressing her hands to his chest and pushing him away from her. she wiped her cheeks again, though the tears were still steadily flowing from her eyes. 

and she went back to packing, zipping up the bag when she’d had enough. she was sure there were things she had forgotten but she didn’t care anymore. she needed to get out of this house as soon as her feet would allow it. 

she tried to walk past him, but jj reached to pull her into a hug that she quickly neglected. she shook her head quickly, soft sobs bubbling in her throat as her vision almost completely clouded over. 

she pressed a hand firmly to his chest, holding it still for a moment before shoving him out of the way and grabbing the doorknob. 

“y/n can we just talk for a second-”

“i need to get out of this fucking house jj, or i’m going to fall into a hole nobody can pull me out of.” she rushed out, hiccuping through the sentence before she pulled the door open and saw everyone standing in the living room, staring at her with solemn expressions. 

“i uh, i’m just-”

“babe, i can’t let you drive like this.” sarah whispered, kie quickly nodding along. 

“then someone needs to drive me somewhere because i swear to god-”

“y/n, please.” jj ran out of the room, stopping at the sight of everyone and y/n felt like her chest was about to explode. he reached for her arm but she yanked it out of his hold and made her way towards the door. “baby-”

“jj please stop.” she choked out a sob before she could reach the door, feeling her chest build so much pressure it was getting unbearable. her stomach was tightening and she was starting to sweat. 

“jj maybe you should-” 

sarah tried to get jj to back off of y/n but stopped at the sight of y/n pressing a hand to her mouth and running towards the door. she ran to the edge of the porch and bent over the railing before emptying her stomach into a bush that lined john b’s house. she felt someone pull her hair back and a cold hand run up and down her back underneath her shirt. 

she knew it wasn’t jj because his hands were always warm. she would’ve guessed one of the girls but she knew sarah didn’t have the stomach to watch someone throw up and these hands were too big to be kie’s. the thought quickly vanished when the feeling bubbled in her throat again, her body lurching over the raining another time. 

she was still sobbing, coughing violently after everything in her stomach seemed to lay in a bush directly in front of her. she stood back up, her head spinning slightly at the sudden movement and her chest still felt like someone had laid a thousand bricks on top of it. 

she fell into someone’s chest before they sat down, pulling her into their lap. she knew it was john b when he started humming a song he always sang when they were younger. the knowledge that it was john b soothed her slightly, knowing he was the only other person that knew how her brain worked other than jj. 

she sobbed into the boy’s neck, body shaking and sweating as she tried to focus on the soft humming. he rubbed small shaped on the small of her back while scratching her head gently with his other hand. he hated seeing her like this, given that the last time he saw her this bad had been years ago. 

kie was soothing jj inside, sitting on the couch and having him cry gently in her lap. she ran a hand through his hair and tried to tell him things were going to be okay, but she truly had no way of knowing that. 

y/n moved slightly, her sobbing had died down though she was still crying and shaking. 

“i don’t understand.” she said softly, but john b had heard her. 

“there’s no way to understand it. i bet he doesn’t either.” 

it had taken more time than john b hoped it would, but y/n’s chest stopped heaving, and her breathing fell to a steady pace. she wasn’t sure what it was going to take for her heart to heal, but her body would heal just fine in no time. 

she sat up in john b’s lap, still sitting down on the porch, and wiped her cheeks one more time. she looked at the boy with the best smile she could force, although it was barely a smile at all, and thanked him softly. 

“i can’t stay here.” she said softly, fearing to let the feeling she just got out, back in. 

“i can ask him to go home, y/n-”

“i can’t stay in this house, john b. i can’t sleep in that bed or on that couch. i can’t smell him or see him or have everything around me be a direct reminder of my best friend falling out of love with me. i can’t stay here.” john b nodded, though the realization of the girl’s words upset him. he didn’t know when she’d ever want to come back, and that sucked to hear. 

“okay, but you can’t drive like this.” she nodded softly, knowing that the group feared for the girl to get behind the wheel when she was in this condition. though she’d done it many times before, she had never got out spot free and scared her friends about it for the rest of their lives. 

she got up, staring at the door and turning to sit on the steps of the porch, whispering that she couldn’t go back inside. john b told her he’d be quick, and ran inside. 

jj shot up at the sound of the door opening, staring at john b with wide but red eyes. john b stared back at his best friend with a sad expression, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask. 

“it’s the worst i’ve seen in it a long time, jj.” he said softly before reaching for the girl’s bag. “i’d drive her but i think someone should stay with her.” 

sarah and kie both nodded quickly, standing up and moving towards the door but john b put out a hand softly, stopping them before they could rush out of the door. 

“i don’t know how she’s going to be for the rest of the night, and i highly doubt it’s going to change overnight. you guys can gauge the situation in the morning but i don’t think she’s going to sleep.” 

they nodded again, neither of them hesitating as kie grabbed the bag from john b and walked out of the front door without another word. they sat on either side of the girl on the steps, hearing her sigh softly before her head dropped onto kie’s shoulder. 

sarah grabbed one of the girl’s hands in both of her own, holding it tightly while kie wrapped her arm around y/n’s shoulders. kie moved to give her a small kiss on the top of her head before she held out her hand, palm face up. 

y/n let out a hint of a laugh before she dug in her pockets and pulled out her keys, placing them into kie’s hand. kie wrapped her hand around the keys and stood up while sarah stood up with y/n, still holding her hand as she skipped to y/n’s car in an attempt to make the girl smile or laugh. 

she let out a hint of smile as she climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at kie who smiled brightly at her and squeezed her thigh gently. 

“it’ll be okay.” kie reassured gently, and y/n nodded, her smile falling from her face for a moment before she forced another. 

“it’ll be okay.” she repeated softly before kie started the car and they drove away from john b’s house. 

**

part 2

[saltnhalo]

happy birthday to @hartlessfiction!! <3 inspired in part by this post

Castiel has never been a particularly big fan of gay bars.

As someone who prefers peace and quiet and being able to have an actual conversation with someone he’s interested in, the too-loud music and the dancing is just a little too much. Occasionally, he’s more in the mood for it, but tonight Balthazar has dragged him out of his apartment to ‘try and get you laid, Cassie!’, when he’d much rather just stay at home with his book.

He sips at his drink, then leans his elbow against the bar and turns, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend among the crowds of people. He might be able to fake being unwell and tell Balthazar he needs to go home, but his friend is nowhere to be seen, so it looks like he’s out of luck.

When he turns back towards the bar, there’s a man sitting on the stool beside him.

He’s angled towards Castiel, forearms resting casually on the wooden countertop and a smile curving his lips. Even in the low light, his eyes look so green. All in all, he’s extremely handsome—but at the risk of being overly cynical, he also looks like every other handsome straight guy Castiel has ever met. Flannel over a band t-shirt, faded jeans, big boots and a clean haircut? It doesn’t exactly scream I belong in a gay bar.

“Hey,” the guy says with a smile, and Castiel tries to force down his negativity. Everyone belongs here, he reminds himself. It doesn’t matter how they dress, or how fed up with being dragged here Castiel is.

So, in return, he forces a smile and says, “Hello.”

The guy gives him a quick look up and down, so brief that Castiel might have missed it, but he doesn’t. And it piques his interest, reconsidering his first heterosexual assessment—

Until the man follows his greeting up with: “I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” His grin widens, and he spreads his hands in front of himself. “No homo.”

And there goes both Castiel’s hopes and his respect for this guy.

“You’re really going to come into a gay bar,” he growls, anger laced so thickly through his voice that it seems to take the guy aback, “and try to no homo me?” He hadn’t thought this night could get any worse, but apparently he was wrong. “What the fuck are you even doing here then?”

The guy’s eyes widen, as though he’s only just realized that something has gone terribly wrong. “Hey, no, wait, I—“ he splutters out, but Castiel shoves his stool back from the bar. He’s heard enough.

“Wait, please.”

The man is also standing up, half-stepping so that he’s in front of Castiel and preventing him from making the escape that is all he can think about right now. For a second, Castiel considers his options—shove past him? Verbally lay into him for his fucking audacity? Hell, he even half-considers throwing a punch.

And then the man says, “You didn’t let me finish telling the joke.”

Castiel pauses. Narrows his eyes. “The joke?” he asks warily. Nothing about this seems very funny, but he’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

The guy eyes him, then seems to decide that it’s okay to proceed. “The joke was,” he says, the corner of his mouth tilting up hesitantly, “that it was no homo, but full bi. Because. Well. That’s what I am.”

Castiel just stares at him. Really? That’s the pickup line this fucking moron is going to go with?

“Bisexual, I mean,” the man elaborates as the silence stretches out between them, somewhat awkwardly.

“I figured,” Castiel tells him drily. He’s still trying to figure out whether he wants to leave.

The guy blows out a breath, runs his fingers through his hair, then gives Castiel and apologetic look. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to take it the wrong way. I really did want to buy you a drink—would that make up for it? No pressure, of course. You want me to fuck off, then off I will fuck.”

And that, of all the dumb shit this guy has said in the last two minutes—that makes Castiel smile. It’s small, sure, because this guy is a little bit awkward and a lot of a dumbass, but somehow he’s still charming.

“You know,” he muses, as he turns back towards the guy, “you really need to find a better pickup line. My name is Cas—you should probably know that if you’re going to buy me a drink.”

The man seems to light up, giving Castiel a wide smile. Green eyes sparkle even in the low light. “I’m Dean,” he says, as they make their way back to the vacated bar. “And as for a better pickup line… well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Castiel pauses and thinks about it for a second. He did agree to having a drink, even if it had maybe been for a different reason to the one he’d originally expected…

Yes it did, he admits to himself with amusement as they sit down and order, Dean polite and charming and clearly interested, despite their rocky start. Yes it did.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 2

Blue and Henrik try to take care of each other after the difficult night Anti caused them before returning to their twins.

Tws for discussions of abuse between brothers, threats of stabbing, and mind control.

Part 2 - okay i really want to title this chapter 'I'm a healer, but...'

Part 2 - In the Silence Between

Anonymous asked: Henrik? Was a camera left with you?

By the time the sun rises the next day, there is enough light for you to make him out again.

It takes him a long time to stir, curled up like a worm on the sidewalk though he may be. He is still concussed. You know from the first moment he squints his eyes up at you, blinking as a mole blinks. He sneezes and it makes him cry for pain, curling back down around his aching head.

The chains on the door clink. He sits up fast and only worsens the pounding in his head, letting out a low groan and shrinking away from Blue’s body as the door fall open wide.

“Dok,” whispers Blue, faltering to his knees beside him. “It’s me.”

“Liar,” hisses Henrik, shoving his shoulders. “Get away from me, you fuck.”

Blue reaches gently out for his hand and intertwines their fingers like a pinkie promise. I’m here. I’m with you.

Dok breathes out a terrified sigh and draws in relieved air, wiping at his aching head.

“You hot?” murmurs Blue.

“So hot,” he whimpers. “I am melting.”

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

“Blue… thank you.”

“Come on, darling. Blue’s here. It’s still my job to take care of you, little brother.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, are you doing okay? I know Henrik is priority but I imagine Anti just disentangled himself from you, right?

“You’re pale,” whispers Henrik. “You feel alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Dok. I think I’m getting used to it.”

“I don’t want you to get used to it,” answers Dok, distressed.

Blue leads him towards the other bathroom on the second floor, his arm wrapped around Dok’s waist. His eyes wear darkness.

“We share dreams in the same head,” he says, helping Dok sit down at the bottom of a bathtub. “Sometimes, in the night, I hear him talking to me, but I try not to answer, and he tries to make himself stop.”

Anonymous asked: Henrik, how hurt are you, if you know? I hope not too badly. You don't have to answer, though, your brain might be a little foggy right now.

“I would need a CT to know for sure,” he mumbles, gasping as Blue turns the showerhead right on him. “Fuck, Blau, I’m still dressed!”

“Your clothes are a mess, bud. I think you threw up.”

“We have a washing machine now.”

“Want to risk Trick seeing that in the wash and asking questions?”

Henrik winces, closing his eyes.

“Dok, Anti told me what he’d do to Trick if you let him know. But maybe it would just be better to tell him. He’s going to find out eventually anyway, and it could turn him to our side - ”

“Stop!” snaps Dok, whirling on him with fear in his eyes. This makes him groan again, clutching at the dent in his forehead. “I won’t risk his skin for my own…”

Blue doesn’t press it. Dok’s having a hard enough day as it is. He rolls up his pants and sits on the side of the tub besides his little brother, covering the dent as he massages shampoo into his hair.

“Is that nice?” he asks with a soft laugh, seeing Dok relax.

Henrik nods quietly, wiping at tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“It’s not your fault,” whispers Dok.

“Do you think your head will be okay?”

“Tell me if you notice me losing any skills or awareness. Most likely the damage won’t set in until we’re much older.”

“Like an American football player.”

“They say every concussion takes six months off your life,” agrees Dok morbidly. Blue leans down to hug his soapy head to his chest for a second.

“You can have six of mine,” he offers gently, opening the body wash.

Anonymous asked: Hm I guess when he's in control he takes the split consciousness and completely submerges you in it so it's basically just him but when you're both unconscious, it's more even between you? Like if he's in a state of rest, he's not completely taking you down, but since your body is pretty much resting for two people it's not enough to completely hand control back to you since you're the one who has to deal with the effects? Am I reading into that correctly?

“Maybe.” Blue tries to wrap his head around it all at once, his eyes flickering. “I… don’t know. But sometimes when he’s awake I feel something between us too. It was like that day where the magician came to our home in Singapore, when Anti and I were both trying to protect Trick. Like… we’re almost working together. But then we pull away again. It makes me a little afraid.”

Blue cleans Dok’s stained beard with a washcloth, letting him rest against the side of the tub, his shadowed eyes closed. “It makes me wonder if I’m not more like him than I want to be, for us to be able to see each other like that. Your chest and face are clean, do you want help with the rest?”

Dok makes himself wake up again and takes the washcloth. Blue steps back to give him some privacy. He catches sight of himself in the mirror on the wall.

Pain and grief flood his features. He turns away from the image of himself. Supposedly himself, anyway.

That is not a person he recognizes.

sophiness asked: My favourite thing is the fact that we can only see what's rly going on in Anti's head is when he's having an existential crisis.

Blue gives a low chuckle. “What, do you have the tea? I hope he’s having a fucking breakdown. Maybe if I can learn a little bit more about how he thinks there will be a benefit to this possession shit after all.”

Anonymous asked: Oh that's.. interesting. If that's not too personal, what are your shared dreams like? Is it coherent at all?

“I think there were snippets?” says Blue. “Snippets that I understood. Like Dap’s eyes, and Trick just staring at us, but his throat was bleeding the way Anti’s does. And then there was this really weird, like, figure at the door, with the forest around it. And they frightened me, but it made Anti move towards it, and he was talking, but I couldn’t hear what he said to it. And then the figure turned and walked away from him while he was trying to reach it, and he woke up upset, and laid with Dapper for a long time. But then, I don’t even remember all of our waking moments. I think he can shut me down when he has the energy and thinks to do it.”

“Well, you’ve got one thing right, at least.”

Blue yelps and turns to see Anti standing inside the bathroom. The door is closed and they didn’t hear it open. Blue bites down the urge to swear at him, the memories of last night still too fresh in his mind. He sits down on the side of the tub to shield Dok, turning his eyes away from Anti’s.

“That’s what I thought,“ snipes Anti, advancing on them both. Ignoring Dok’s nakedness, hidden to you by the side of the tub, Anti pushes back his hair and examines the dent in his head, pulling his hand away after a moment and staring down at the two of them.

“Can we go back to our twins now, Anti?” asks Dok. “Please?”

“Now that’s a more polite way to ask than all that screaming and thrashing you two got up to last night,” sneers Anti. “Yes, you can. On one condition.”

“What?” asks Blue, knowing he’s waiting for a reply.

“Blue’s body is a fucking wreck. You two make sure it gets fed and watered and whatever. And Dok, I want you to make him exercise.”

“To make him exercise? Your idea of exercise is play-fighting… or just real fighting. He can barely walk.”

“I’m not an idiot, Arzt. Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor? Make him stronger again. Use the pool. That’s easier on humans. Good for you.”

“I’m not a physical therapist, Anti, I’m a heart surgeon.”

“Are you arguing with me?” asks Anti in a sickly sweet voice. “Would you like an up-close view of a heart that needs fixing right now?”

Dok flinches away from him, shaking his head.

“Just don’t let it fucking die or something stupid. I need it functional. Got it?”

Blue wraps his arms uncomfortably around his stomach. Dok looks up at him.

“Got it,” they both say.

“There’s my good pets,” says Anti, his face contorted with derision, and, mercifully, he leaves them alone again. If you’re watching your cameras, you’ve seen that he has not left Dapper’s side for the past hour, the two of them having a lie-in in the great big bed, wrapped warmly around each other.

Anonymous asked: Regardless of morals and standards, everyone has hopes, dreams, fears, and values. Anti's are crooked but it's not impossible for his to align with yours at times. honestly your want for control is probably growing since it's been stripped away from you. That doesn't make you Anti, that makes you human. However I certainly don't trust the magical connection between you two, it's clear that it's not just skin-deep (pun intended, fuck you) so if you say things are creeping too far, it's too far.

Blue sighs through his nose. The day has just begun and already he’s so tired. He doesn’t want to go downstairs. He doesn’t want to swim. He just wants to go back to bed.

But he’s got them to look after, no matter what the doubts in his head, no matter the growing connection between himself and the creature that’s been putting him on for pajamas at night.

And, he thinks, as he towels Dok’s fluffy brown hair between one of the thick bathroom towels in the cabinet and wraps it like a blanket around his thin shoulders, it’s not really so bad when there are moments like these. Dok looks at him like he’s in awe of him, dazed and trusting, clinging to Blue’s shirt.

“Let’s go take you to your little brother,” he says, leading Dok towards the stairs.

“Airplane,” mumbles Dok, rubbing at his head.

“What?”

“Airplane.” He points to the top stairs. “De flugzeug.”

A small paper airplane is waiting for them. Blue picks it up cautiously, waiting for tricks.

But it’s just the poem his twin sent him as a present, the one he tore out of the book. And if you saw only the beginning last night, the morose ramblings of a reflective man, here is the finish:

And yet I still am half in love with pain, With what is imperfect, with both tears and mirth, With things that have an end, with life and earth, And this moon that leaves me dark within the door.

You see Blue’s mouth curve into a small smile that is entirely his own. And there, at the bottom of the banister, fast asleep against the stairs, waits an imperfection for whom he would suffer all things: Ro, waiting for him.

Anti can do what he wants to him in the night. Daytime is for daylight, and the sun shines off his brothers.

.

“Hey,” murmurs Trick, sitting up in bed. “Hey, stop. What’s that? Where’d you get that?”

Dok turns away from the fingers approaching the purple dent in his head.

Trick stands up and forces him to look at him, his eyes wide and worried. “Don’t look away from me. Where’d you get that? Fuck, your pupils are totally fucked up. Sit down, bro, hey, I’m here. Noodle, come sit on your uncle’s lap. I’ll go get you an icepack, Dok, just - ”

“No,” says Dok, reaching out for his wrist. “No, Trick, just stay.”

Trick is supposed to be giving orders these days, but even if he were a commanding personality in the slightest, he would still do what Dok asked of him. He sits down beside his brother on the bed they are not allowed to share, staring at that wound in his head like God put it there and now it’s Trick’s job to crash down St. Peter’s gates and enact a swift revenge.

“Tell me who,” says Trick, pointing at the wound. “Who did that to you. Red, huh? You did something he didn’t like and he grabbed you again? Or Dapper?”

“Stop,” says Dok, more afraid by the guesses than he would have been if Trick had begun to guess his secret. “Don’t - how can you say that?”

“Red’s done things like this to us before,” says Trick bitterly, getting to his feet again. “I’ll fucking show him to lay his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t Red! I hit my head on the bathroom counter. Slipped on my clothes as I was changing. It was stupid.”

Trick sits down, distraught. “Dok, you never lie to me. That’s supposed to be why we’re twins. You and I, we got each other’s secrets. Even the really secret secrets. You have to trust me.”

Dok’s eyes water. He turns away, hiding the bruise beneath his palm.

Trick sits miserably beside him, staring at the floor. Noodle watches them with concern, sitting on Trick’s feet. “Mrr,” he prompts them, butting Henrik’s calf.

“I just got you back,” whispers Trick. “I wish we could sleep together again. Then I would know you were safe from everybody and everything. And that no one was going to take you from me again.”

He glances over and his hands reach out. For a second, Dok thinks he’s going to touch his shoulder and draw him in to hug him - but instead, Trick reaches out and wraps his hand around one of the raven necklaces on Dok’s breast.

Henrik feels a stone in his throat. He can hardly breathe. Trick glares at the necklaces. He hates them. He hates that they’re there. He hates that the magicians put dangerous thoughts into Dok’s head so he has to stay upstairs with Anti. He hates that his twin just lied to him.

“What if I said it was Anti?” croaks Dok, his voice shaking.

“Who was keeping you safe instead of me?”

“Who hit my head.”

Trick looks up, surprised.

And if Dok’s concussed, well - Trick’s eyes are more glazed over still.

“Anti’s never hit you,” says the person in the world who’s been with Dok every time Anti has made him bleed, bruise, and cry. They used to commiserate in whispers under the covers of their nest, reassuring each other through every pain that came with hands clutched together and secret, distant hopes to live a better life someday, together. Now, Trick’s familiar voice is thick and sleepy, and not from the cozy comfort of their brotherhood - he sounds drugged more than tired. Noodle leaves his feet and hides away under the bed soundlessly. “He would never.”

It’s Dok’s turn to stare at the floor. He wants to cry or scream or protest, but in the end he just feels dead.

Trick drops his hand from the necklaces. He reaches for Dok’s face and rubs his brother’s beard against his knuckles, setting his head down on his shoulder.

“Did you miss me?” asks Dok softly. “While I was away?”

“I think I tried to,” answers Trick, sounding confused. “But it was hard to remember, I guess. I just knew I was lonely without you next to me. And last night, I was lonely again like that.”

“You should stay closer to Red,” murmurs Dok, ready for a change of subject.

“I hate him,” whispers Trick. “I hate everybody but you and Anti.”

“Don’t say that, Trick. I know it’s not true.”

Trick snuggles closer to his shoulder, closing his eyes. In the morning light, they are hand-in-hand.

Dok doesn’t know why he feels his brother is being taken farther and farther away from him every time they speak.

“I love you,” says Dok. “More than anything.”

“I love you too,” says Trick, sharing a rare kiss with him, pressing his mouth to Dok’s cheek. “Lie down and rest. Your head has to be killing you. I’ll make you breakfast. This house, this place - it’s everything we need, man. Months and months we’ve been hoping for a place like this and now, finally, I actually get to take care of you the way I’ve always wanted to.”

“With food?” asks Dok, trying to smile weakly at him.

Trick smiles back. “Yes,” he says. “With food.”

He isn’t often himself, lately.

But his love language is bacon and orange juice and sweet summer watermelon, and he still loves Dok.

Anonymous asked: What do you remember of the marketplace, Trick, when everyone was reunited again? Everything? Pieces? Did Anti take you aside to "fix" things for you afterward?

“Ahhh.” Trick tilts his head back and forth as he cuts up sourdough bread for toast. “The marketplace recently? We… were coming to get Dok and Red back cause Dok got away from the magicians and Blue was feeling well enough to travel. But Anti was wearing him because he knocked me out to try to protect me.”

Trick’s mouth thins irritably for a moment, but he’s trying to stay positive.

“But then there was some guy with Red, and apparently he got really attached to him, because he wouldn’t come with us when we said we needed to go! And Red is like, wanted for murder and a ton of other shit in Peru. And England. And kind of everywhere? So I don’t know how he was planning to stay hidden without Anti. I think he was just being emotional. But anyway I convinced Dok to come with me and Anti left Dap while he went to go get Red and convince him to stop being dumb. By the time he came back, Dap had gotten out, and that was how we ended up… yeah.”

Trick stares down at the knife in his hand like he’s acknowledging its power for a moment, his eyes afraid.

“I think after that it was just a blur of trying to deal with the fact that Dapper almost… did that. And Anti and Blue were both sick, and Dok was all shaken up, and everybody was losing it. I was just glad to get out of the fucking country at that point. Anti and I were together on the plane. But we talk a lot these days. I’ve wanted us to be able to get along for months. Some days he spoils me like he usually does Dapper and it’s wild. I’ve been good! I’m proud to get rewarded for that cause I really have worked hard for us, I think. Is that too much to say? I’m happy we’re all together again and that I finally convinced Anti I’m worth having.”

He smiles, searching the cabinets of the dead man for dishes. “He’s been helping me whenever I get freaked out. I haven’t felt depressed in ages. Having Blue possessed and Dapper suicidal, I think I would have flipped out, but Anti just makes everything… calm, inside my head. I really fucking need that. I’m scared to be alone with myself sometimes. I’ve had more than one attempt in my life, you know. Dok shouldn’t have to handle me alone, so it’s really good that Anti’s helping now too.

“But… Dok’s acting weird. Anti says he needs to correct what the magicians did to him. I hate that they changed him. I should have been there with him to watch him. Now Anti’s starting to dislike him because he won’t take those necklaces off. I don’t want him to get in trouble. Anti might give him to Dapper or Red or something instead of me.”

Trick’s face fills with distress for a second, wiping at his eyes. But - breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in -

Five seconds.

He feels okay again.

Humming distantly to himself, he picks up Dok’s plate and carries it back towards the bedroom, his eyes wide and cloudy and calm.

Anonymous asked: he can't take the necklaces off, trick. anti's just worried over it because he doesn't know what will happen, i think.

“That’s probably true,” says Trick. “Secretly I think Anti’s scared of more things than he lets on, but he’s tough for the rest of us. I don’t think he wants to see Dok hurt and we don’t know what those necklaces do. He said some weird shit when he tried to explain them to me. I’m worried he might be delusional. Dapper’s had some weird delusions, stuff like being one hundred years old, and he can get really, really stressed if you try to contradict him while he’s psychotic. So I’m just trying to meet Dok where he’s at until he kind of settles in again. I think it’ll be okay, though. I feel… fuck, I feel safe, you know? Safe mentally, safe in this house, safe with my family. Like no one’s going to hurt me, including me. And it’s been a really, really long time since I felt that way. So I’m just - I can take anything anybody throws at me right now. I’m just happy things turned out so well for us, even with some lasting problems we gotta fix. But we will fix them. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Anonymous asked: Well you're right about things going to be okay. Sooner rather than later I hope. I think it might be good for you to approach all of your brothers when you can Trick, talk with them. Not just Anti and Dok. I think opening a dialogue between the others may help clear the air a bit, yeah?

Trick deflates a little, looking back at the rest of the house as Dok sits up and tries to eat despite his nausea, not wanting Trick to feel like he’s not grateful or become more worried. Trick crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing down into a familiar look - the same way he stares out the window when he’s keeping watch.

“It was really scary when we were up on that mountain,” he murmurs. “And I would never want Dap to get hurt or be unhappy. I love Blue, but how am I supposed to trust him after what he did? And Red, well.”

Trick closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“I don’t know. We’ve never gotten along. Probably better to just leave things as are.”

“Not sure that will be an option,” Dok tells him from the bed. “You and Ro will be spending a lot of time together whether you like it or not, seems like.”

“He can keep sleeping on the stairs,” mutters Trick, guarding the door to Dok. Red won’t hurt them anymore. You have been with Red throughout the last few weeks, but Trick has not seen him since New Year, when he was being so ferocious and bitter with them, chained by the leg to his room. He doesn’t trust his brother not to strike his head as he passes. But if Red tries now, oh - Trick will show him. Trick will show him.

Anonymous asked: Don't you think you're being a tad abrasive? You guys do a lot of improv when it comes to keeping yourselves and each other safe. It's not always as simple as just following the rules, and not everyone is on the same page on how to handle themselves.

“Red can’t slap us,” snaps Trick. “There’s a hard and fast rule. Nobody should be hitting each other around here. Nobody should be dragging us or hurting us. We don’t have to excuse that sort of behavior. Anyway, I don’t have to talk to you!”

“Since when do you dislike the cameras so much?” asks Dok.

Trick frowns, turning to him. “Dok, come on… half of them are assholes anyway.”

“We used to have fun with the cameras,” grumbles Dok, turning away from him. “These days you are always annoyed. Well, I still like the camera people, so please don’t be so mean.”

Trick is abashed beneath his twin’s disapproval, wringing his hands anxiously in the doorway. “Dok, come on,” he whines, but his brother doesn’t look back at him. Trick paces, distressed.

Anonymous asked: C'mon Trick, you can't hate Red that much. I mean, yeah did some horrible things but it was mostly all on Anti's order. And he's also been through some real tough stuff while he was away with Dapper. Cant you give him a chance, just a little bit?

“We’ve all been through tough stuff, fuck! But I never grabbed Red by the hair and made him cry or anything like that! Fuck!”

Trick kicks the door, tears welling in his eyes.

“Hey,” snaps Dok. “Just take a deep breath. You don’t have to go beg to be Red’s friend right now.”

“I don’t care about anyone but you and Anti,” repeats Trick vehemently, circling like a caged dog. “I don’t care, it’s better just to stay home in your nest, don’t gotta go out and meet anybody. Don’t have to worry about how nobody likes me if you and Anti like me, don’t have to. Don’t have to let anybody hurt you again!”

“Why don’t you feed Noodle?” suggests Dok. “He’s probably hungry.”

Honestly, he’s not so perturbed by his brother’s anger. Trick was at the bottom of the hierarchy for a long time and his hatred for Red was simmering the whole time, not just because of the hitting, but because of the favoritism. This isn’t the first time Trick’s vented to him about it. Dok’s just glad Trick hasn’t been retaliatory yet - but he fears Trick’s lingering fear of his big brother is the only thing stopping him from putting Red in his place the same way Anti always put Trick and Dok in their places at their oldest brother’s feet.

And hey, Dok has his own grudges with Red, but at least he has some perspective on the situation. He knows Red’s been trying to survive just like the rest of them. He’s kept food in their stomachs too, sometimes at the cost of his own dinner. He can forgive him if he’s trying to be better to them.

Anonymous asked: It's fair to hate him after what he's done, even if it was under Anti's orders. But he's gotten back to himself a bit, the person he was before Anti. The Red he is right now is kinder than the one you remember, Trick.

Trick rubs at his eyes unhappily and shrugs, trying to stop himself from really crying. He’s embarrassed. Red still scares him no matter how mopey and sad and hollow he seems these days. He just wants to go away with Dok and Anti and maybe Dapper, and, well, Blue could come too… but he’d be sad without Red…

Trick lets out a short, unhappy sigh, sitting down beside Dok, who rubs his back almost instinctively, recalling to them both long nights on the watch at the window with only Dok’s hands to keep Trick’s muscles from straining.

“Red is your family,” says Dok. “I think really we all love each other, it’s just not that easy. Try not to be so angry with him. He’s really unhappy, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Trick. “All he did all of last night was sit in that library and look out at the sun as it went down.”

“Red has always kept us as full and as safe as he could,” says Dok, handing his brother a half of his toast. Trick nibbles unenthusiastically on the bread, leaning against Dok. “Do the same for him if Anti gives you a choice. Yes? For me? For Blue?”

“I’m not going to hurt Red,” mumbles Trick. “I’m just man-scaping.”

Dok snorts hard and Trick laughs wearily at his own joke, pulling Noodle onto his lap to pet his golden cat’s warm head.

Anonymous asked: Why do you trust Anti over Dok all of a sudden? You've been with Dok through years of torture and pain and heartache at the hands of Anti, you've been forcibly removed from him, you've been forced to run a 40 minutes walk and break into a store as punishment for not doing something you weren't even told to do while Anti threatened to torture Dok. Look at the burn scar on your hand. Remember that? And you say Anti would never hurt you two? BS.

“Break into a store as punishment?”

Trick stares at you, blinking. “I don’t think we’ve… no, or… that was for… medicine?”

He stops short, furrowing his brows at the floor. “Torture Dok. And the burn scar on my - ”

He opens his palm and falls silent.

The welded spiderweb of his hand stares back at him in pink and white, glistening under the lights. His stomach flips; he stares. He remembers the warmth of Dok’s body beside him growing colder, colder.

“I’ll make you a fire.”

“Anti said to stay hidden.”

“I’ll make you a fire.”

He curls his fingers into a fist.

Anti did do this to him. For making a fire for Dok.

Anti did this to him because he was angry, and he was violent, and he decided he wanted to hurt Trick, and that was the only reason.

“Shit, shit,” whispers Trick, clutching his hand to his chest. “Oh, no. No, no.”

“Trick?” Dok gets up on his unsteady feet, tottering over to his brother to hold him. “Hey, hey, I’m here. What’s - ”

“Anti hurt me, he hurt me,” whimpers Trick, eyes wide, his green hair falling into his eyes. “He still hurts me, he slapped me, he slapped me for kissing a girl and I fell and hit my head.”

“Trick, hey, look at me.”

“He used to lock us in that room with the blood on the walls,” sobs Trick, reaching out for his brother’s shirt, and Dok draws him in, clutching tightly to his elbows. “Because I would tell him he couldn’t make you torture anybody else, that he was making you lose your mind, and you would be in that dead-space for hours, just staring at the wall, whispering about surgeries and tumors beneath your skin.”

“Trick!” cries Dok, shaking him. “You’re making yourself upset, stop! You don’t have to think about it right now, okay? You don’t have to - ”

“Think about what?” Trick blinks, looking up again. “What… were we talking about?”

Dok stares at him, his head drawing slightly back in confusion. “Um. How we used to get locked in the bloody room after my… surgeries.”

Trick watches him, frowning.

“Trick?”

“What bloody room?”

“With the chairs, like, the rocking chairs? Do you remember? In a house he stole from someone. There were pictures of their kids on the walls.”

“What are you talking about?” laughs Trick, confused, touching his cheek. “Hey, whoa… who did that to you?”

He points at the bruise on Dok’s head. Dok’s whole face is drawn back with fear, staring at his brother’s blank eyes.

“Dok, tell me,” murmurs Trick, alarmed. “Who did that to you?”

“What if I said it was Anti?”

“It wasn’t Anti,” whispers Trick, touching his own head like it aches and letting his eyes slide shut. “He doesn’t hurt us.”

Dok has gone very still.

“Have the rest of my eggs, please,” he says, pushing Trick gently towards the bed. “Before Noodle eats them. I’m not that hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Promise,” answers Dok. “I’ll be right back. I need to handle something.”

Trick drifts towards the bed, looking sleepy.

“What is he doing to you, what is he doing,” you hear Dok whispering as he moves, over and over and over again. “What has he done in your head, what is he making you think, what is he doing to you, my heart, my heart.”

He is still whispering it when he steps into the kitchen and picks up the knife Trick used to cut fruit for his breakfast - a big, stern, silver cutting knife.

“He’s not going to be able to think like himself til he’s dead,” hisses Dok, unsteady on his feet, his mouth trembling with terrified worry. “He’s stuck in his own head. What is he doing to you, what has he done…”

nikkilbook asked: ....Doc. I’m gonna need you to clarify which “him” is which. And then I’m gonna need you to take like twelve deep breaths and find your whole chill.

Dok is breathing hard and miserably, his eyes beginning to get red again. He tries to breathe deep and sobs instead, pulling his hand through his hair.

“I want Anti to stop hurting him,” he says, his whole face scrunched up like a child’s as they try not to cry. “I want to take him somewhere safe and not have to keep watching this happen.”

Anonymous asked: Hen, what are you doing, love? Do you have a plan for this? You need to make a plan before you do something like this, just in case it backfires.

“I don’t want to make a plan, I can’t think, I just want, want… I want…”

He tries to take a step forward and stumbles, losing his balance and crashing to the floor with a yelp. The knife scatters away from his grip and he yelps as he lands hard on his wrist, curling up on himself.

Footsteps come rattling towards him, heavy and thunderous, and he recognizes them for who they belong to before Red is even barking his name and kneeling down beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Dok! What happened? Did you trip? Hey, did you know you have a bump on your head?”

Anonymous asked: Whoa whoa whoa! What are you doing? You're gonna go kill Anti? With a knife that'll probably be knocked out of your grasp effortlessly and then dug into you?? Dok, be smart about this. You're in no shape to be rebellious right now

“Hey!” cries Red, alarmed. “Fuck, don’t say those things, you’re going to get him in so much fucking trouble. Dok, tell me right now you weren’t going to hurt Anti.”

“Maybe I was,” cries Dok. “What then?”

Red grabs his chin, pulling him up to sitting despite a low yelp of protest.

“Dok,” he says, leaning in close. “It’s really important that I hear you say right now that you weren’t planning to go hurt Anti.”

Dok stares at him, eyes watering.

“I’m sick of living like this,” he says.

“Take that back,” says Red, low and dangerous. “Right now, before Anti punishes you for it. Right now, Dok.”

pine-storm-season asked: Deep breaths, buddy. I know, you want something to change. But we can't do anything just now, and so you have to wait, okay? Things will get better than they are now, I promise.

Dok works on deep breaths, miserable in Red’s hands. It’s the thought of this - Red’s hands, the realization that Red is so sincere about what he’s saying that he’s willing to touch Dok’s skin with his own despite his hatred for the sensation - that gives Dok a breath of clarity. He tries to calm down again, pawing at Red’s hand on his chin.

Dok whimpers, clutching at Red’s hand on his chin. “You’re holding me too tight.”

Red’s expression changes, a flash of alarm cutting through him. He drops Dok immediately. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dok.”

Dok wipes at his eyes, sniffling. “Can you help me walk to Blue?”

“I need to hear you say that you weren’t planning to hurt Anti,” murmurs Red.

Dok stares up at him, finding himself in a sudden, concussed sort of wonder for him. Red’s long been Anti’s, but he’s always been like this too - protecting them. If you’re going to say bad things about Anti, say them where his cameras don’t hear. If you’re going to break Anti’s rules, do it where the cameras aren’t looking. If you’re going to entertain faint dreams of rebellion, keep them in your sleep where they belong.

Trick pretends Anti doesn’t hurt them. Dapper drifts into fantasies. Dok used to hope that one day Anti would be better to all of them. Red has never done any of that. Red minimizes pain wherever he can and takes whatever comes their way, and he keeps living. Most of the year he’s been with Anti, he’s done it without even a twin.

“How have you been doing this, Red?” sighs Dok. “Aren’t you just hopeless?”

“I got things that keep me going,” says Red, but there’s a grief in his face that wasn’t there before Peru. “Long as you’re all alive, that’s all that matters.”

“No,” croaks Dok. “Don’t you see? That isn’t all that matters.”

Red doesn’t answer. He sits looking at Dok, ready to catch him if he falls again.

“I wasn’t planning to hurt Anti,” lies Dok.

Red nods. Deniability - even a shred - is the most important thing. It means that if Anti reacts, Red can defend him. He was concussed, anyway. He wasn’t thinking clearly, Anti! He can already plan the conversation he’ll have if Anti comes down the stairs to hurt him.

nikkilbook asked: Red, keep Dok away from sharp knives for the immediate future, cuz I still can tell if he was planning to murderize Anti or mercy-kill Trick.

“Yes, I’m going to pick this up and put it in the sink,” says Red tentatively, stepping away from Dok to get the knife and move it. “Might be better just to get rid of all the knives in the house, honestly, or at least lock them up somewhere. I got too many brothers with some dangerous habits. Did you think there was something beneath your skin again, Dok?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Dok, I don't think trick is too far gone for us to snap him back to reality like that with just a memory. The downside here is that the snapback is basically a factory-reset. I think we need to relieve the pressure on his mind over time so he doesn't have a full mental collapse. It's not just his memories being repressed but the emotions too. Maybe a breakdown is inevitable, but we have to coax him through it not just shut it down or he'll just snap back into Anti's blissful ignorance again.

“Hey, what happened?” asks Blue softly, limping into the room. It took him a couple minutes to follow after Red. “Why are you sad?”

“We’re okay,” says Red. “Not a safe thing to talk about.”

Dok doesn’t even look up at Blue, fixated miserably on the floor.

“There are many things not safe to talk about,” answers Blue cagily, turning his gaze towards you just for a moment before looking away again. “Wise though they may be.”

“I want Trick to be Trick again,” mumbles Dok. “That’s all.”

“Get off the floor,” Blue prompts him gently. “Let’s go hang out on the couch and see if the cable still works.”

“I need to keep him thinking,” says Dok, trying to mull over your words in his spinning heads. “Remind him who he is little by little.”

“Shh, Dok,” pleads Blue, Red watching uncertainly from the kitchen.

Anonymous asked: Are you doing okay, Dok? Well... considering everything probably not but uh... how's the head?

“I’ll get an icepack,” offers Red, turning towards the freezer. “If I can find one.”

Blue sits Dok down on the couch, kneeling down in front of him to look up.

“You’re concussed,” he whispers. “You didn’t have a real plan or anything, just anger and fear. If you let your emotions drive you Anti will destroy you every time, Dok. You have to be patient. I know it’s impossible, but you have to do it.”

But Dok -

Henrik.

Henrik is shaking his head slowly, biting down hard on his lip. Blood trickles from between his teeth in reply.

“I will not be passive again,” he says. “I will never be passive again. I refuse. Besides, we don’t have much time. We will lose our fight if we don’t act on it. Or worse - we could lose our brothers. Blue.”

He leans in close, pushing you slightly away. When he speaks, you catch only the barest whisper, pressed into Blue’s ear.

“No long waits. Today, we begin planning. Let us make this chapter of our lives short and scarlet.”

Blue looks at Dok, and then to Red, turned towards the kitchen. From here, Blue can hear him humming dreamily - love songs for his fiance. Love songs for his broken heart.

Blue’s own reflection looks back at him from Dok’s eyes, and he sees Anti.

He will destroy every trace of him if that’s what it takes to keep the others safe. If that’s what it takes to give them a chance at happiness. If that’s what it takes to see his own eyes in the mirror again. He doesn’t need magic. He has Henrik, and Henrik has him.

Blue nods once. Dok touches his hand.

In the silence between them, a revolt.

[izukukuzi]

(1) Everyone's going crazy about BK in ch 285 and 284, but I just feel annoyance at them because they didn't feel earned. Almost every moment he was given to grow was ignored because the narrative didn't want BK to face consequences for his actions. They only gave him one when he was kidnapped by the LoVs which lead to All Might's final fight. It was a good emotional arc for him.

(2) But that's the only action that sticks and even then it's never called out that it was his arrogance that got him caught in the first place and more importantly he doesn't learn from it as he's as arrogant as ever (okay, to be fair he's a TOUCH less, but still). He suffered in the story, but never as a result of his actions and the times he did can be counted on one hand.

(3) Then there’s the relationship with Izuku. Every damn time we saw the two together BK is attacking him verbally and physically. Even after learning the OFA secret he doesn’t help Izuku, he helps ALL MIGHT. Helping Izuku train is just how he does it since All Might can’t fight anymore. Or at least that’s how it comes off, no matter what the story says. It’s always Izuku who is making the effort in their relationship.

(4) It’s always Izuku who is making the effort in their relationship. BK had only said ONE nice thing to Izuku in the whole story when he offered tips on Izuku’s off shoot, but that’s the only time I can think of when he was genuinely nice to him. And that's after years of bullying.

5) The narrative is pushing something that wasn’t earned. They can say BK has changed all they want and they can say that Izuku and BK are friends, but that’s NOT the case. Did BK grow a little? Yes, a little and I’ll even admit that he and Izuku were STARTING to get on the path to getting better, but not enough. Not enough to earn the emotional impact that the latest chapter could have had.

(6) The worse part? It’s too late now. It’s too late in the story to fix it. This irks me because I wanted to see BK’s development into a better person. But they wasted their chances and now it’s too late. At least to me, anyway. I don’t want him to die, but I hate how he’s so forced in our faces and I just want him knocked out so we can focus on Izuku. And now I’ll get out of your inbox since I took up a LOT of space with my rant. Sorry!

okay so first of all, you really struck a nerve with that point about the kidnapping swbjdnwjndjd bakugou didn’t deserve to be captured by the villains BUT OH BOY WAS I FED UP WITH HIM THROWING HIMSELF INTO DANGER AFTER BEING TOLD HE WAS A TARGEEEEEEET. I’ll be bitching about that on my death bed fubejfbjjde

and this, everything you’ve said, is why I try to push so much for everyone to just... be chill about other people’s opinions? like, we’re all watching the show and, though the drawn out approach may work for some, for others, now that we’re here in the midst of possible redemption/atonement/whatever, it’s been too long, so that those efforts seem kind of pointless (and I’m more on that side of the fence myself, so I get it!!!). either way though, it’s a justifiable thing, to like where bk is if you want, or not to, and it’s important to see that, when considering where people stand on the matter, frustration is likely to rise. 

like you said, I also don’t want bakugou to die, and I don’t really think he will, but I also don’t have super high hopes for what comes after this (specifically with his and izuku’s relationship). if things didn’t feel a bit sporadic to me up until this point, I would probably be more internally kind to the idea of his redemption. but I’m also willing to wait it out, to give the benefit of the doubt (if you can really call it that) and like... I dunno, sometimes getting to rant how you feel helps make that waiting easier, you know? so share your thoughts with me anytime!!! I know the struggle of trying to grapple with all of this, so I’m always here to listen!!!! 

[magaprima]

PART 2 EPISODE 8 EPISODE ANALYSIS 3/?

God, I fucking hate this scene on so many levels, and you’re going to get my rant about why below. This is probably going to be more rant than analysis. Hardcore Sabrina and/or Nick stans probably should skip this one. 

Firstly, the way Sabrina storms in. Not only is this reckless because Sabrina has no idea whether, among other things, ‘Ms Wardwell’ has been hiding how powerful she is. She has no full grasp of any part of the situation, she can’t even be certain she’s right that her teacher was ‘whispering in her ear’ and it wasn’t just unfortunate coincidence, she also knows both from experience and from her family, that if the Dark Lord asks you to do something you don’t get to say no, and she doesn’t even wonder if maybe ‘Ms Wardwell’ had been asked to do this by the Dark Lord, and to give her the same benefit of the doubt she gave herself, Hilda and Ambrose. Nope, she just fucking storms in recklessly. The fact Lilith manages to keep it together and stay calm, and just give a sarcastic ‘come in’ is astounding. 

Now, let’s go into the list of things Sabrina blames Lilith for:

1. Jesse Putnam’s exorcism. Excuse you, Sabrina, but you needed no fucking whispering to get that one done. You were asking everyone about it, you were determined, you even declared if no one would help you from the Church of Night then you’d go to the Catholic Church, you denied Lilith’s help at every turn until she was forced to go directly to the Aunts. That is the one she least fucking whispered over. Sabrina has full culpability over that, because Sabrina was going to do it, no matter what. She stated that herself. So let’s not be shifting the blame now because it suits

2. Resurrecting Tommy Again, Sabrina needed no encouragement here. In fact, Lilith very clearly tells her NOT to do it-- yes, she knows perfectly well Sabrina will do it anyway, but the point is, she is told not to. ‘Ms Wardwell’ tells her it requires her to take a life, she begs her not to do it, Ambrose tells her not to do it, even the Weird Sisters have their qualms and so does Nick, but Sabrina is determined. She needs ‘right a wrong’ by killing Agatha to bring back Tommy, even though Zelda had told her that witches can’t meddle in mortal affairs. She actually ‘steals’ the book from her teacher’s office, she does this in defiance of everyone. So again, no shifting blame when you actively made that decision to do it, Sabrina. 

3. Going to Limbo Again, you made that decision on your own, Sabrina. In fact, she only goes to Lilith as a last resort when no one else would help her. But she’d already come to the conclusion herself. Zelda had told her not to, Hilda told her not to, Ambrose told her not to, they all told her how dangerous it was, how she couldn’t do it, how the right thing was to restore balance and return Tommy to the earth, but nope Sabrina decides she knows best and she’ll get someone to help her. Even if you argue that Lilith makes these situations happen, Sabrina is the one who decides to do it. She makes that choice. She could have chosen to listen to anyone else, but she always listened to Lilith because Lilith told her what she wanted to hear

4. Signing her name in the book of the beast This is the one thing she can accuse Lilith of because she worked her freaking butt off to make that happen. But at the same time,  everyone in your family has signed it, Sabrina, and this wasn’t actually part of the prophecy, that was just getting you on the right path. 

5. Conjuring hellfire Didn’t the Dark Lord tell her to do this one? With the visions he gave her? All Lilith does is tell her how. And again, Sabrina could have decided to find another way to defeat the Thirteen but she goes with the option that is offered because it’s what she wants to do. As Zelda said ‘you did it because you like power’

“I did all those things with you whispering in my ear”

Sabrina is just completely absolving herself of all culpability and responsibility just because it freaking suits her. As listing above, she has to take responsibility: Someone can tell you to shoot someone, but if you do it, that was your choice, just as it’s your choice not to. Sabrina did all these things, not because Lilith was whispering in her ear, but because she wanted to do them. We’ve established many times throughout the series that Sabrina doesn’t do anything if she doesn’t want to do it (The fact she agrees to take the the throne in Part 3 is not because Lucifer’s arguments make sense, because they just don’t, but because she wants the power and he gave the excuse to take it). 

I just hate this accusatory anger where she’s painting herself as the complete innocent with all blame on Lilith. Yes, Lilith is involved, yes Lilith has manipulated things and is working for the Dark Lord, but Sabrina did all those things of her own choice and will and she needs to fucking accept that. 

AND THEN, she doesn’t even let Lilith give her answers or explanations. Which is just stupid. Even if she lied, even if Sabrina concluded she was lying, you STILL HAVE TO HEAR HER OUT TO SEE IF THINGS MAKE SENSE. And Lilith does try to answer her, but Sabrina doesn’t give her a chance because she’s too empowered by her own sense of self-entitlement and self-righteousness. 

“Who’s bidding are you doing? My Father’s? The Dark Lord’s? Your own?” “Don’t be ridic-”

Lilith is cut off here, which is a stupid point to cut her off at. She looks so indignant at the thought of anyone thinking this ‘hail Sabrina’ shit was her idea. She stays silent until Sabrina suggests she’s doing it all at her own behest, so the fact that’s where she protests means she is following someone’s instructions, and if Sabrina had any sense in this moment, she would want to hear her out. 

But no, this is where Lilith gets bound. And considering Nick is also doing the Dark Lord’s bidding and he cuts Lilith off before she could answer is very interesting timing and does make you wonder. 

“is that?” “The rib you were using to control the scarecrow who tried to kill me? Why, yes, it is”

The one accusation that is solid in this whole conversation; yes, Lilith did send a monster to try and kill Sabrina. And that is why I would understand Sabrina and Nick using the rib to bind Lilith’s powers so she couldn’t use them against them, or binding her so she couldn’t harm them. However, I do not understand or accept binding a woman so she cannot move or do anything unless a man lets her. Nick takes away her entire autonomy, what he does to Lilith is no different to what Blackwood did to Zelda, it’s just of a different variety. And the fact Sabrina, Little-Miss-I-Know-What’s-Right, thinks this is okay is shocking and abhorrent. 

No woman, no matter who she is, should have her autonomy taken away by a man, her entire body controlled and under the control of a man, with no freedom to escape or defend herself. Like, no one should think that’s okay. And the fact the writers/director have Nick use the exact same body language with Lilith in the later scene as they have Lucifer use on Lilith in the finale shows that even they are showing the parallels and therefore that it’s not meant to be considered a good thing. We’re meant to feel uncomfortable...and yet I know there are people out there who support it. Which gives me the fucking wig to say the least.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

Lilith looks so tired here, like I don’t care I don’t know, all I was planning was to get rid of you so I could punish the Dark Lord and I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit anymore. I think it’s entirely possible Lilith is fed up of the accusations being thrown at her, but considering how she is often viewed by a lot of the world and the stories written about her, she’s probably very used to being accused of shit and having blame thrown on her. Doesn’t mean she’s not fucking tired of it though. 

“So you could control it and kill me”

No, no Sabrina you’re only half-right. Lilith had no interest in controlling the mandrake, just in killing you. And if you’d stop jumping the gun and interrupting her and asking questions without letting her fucking answer, maybe you’d find that out. 

“I don’t know if it even exists. I haven’t seen it, I swear”

I love Lilith’s honesty here, because it’s such a frank and tired honesty. She has no fucking need to lie because she’s lost Sabrina’s trust and she really doesn’t care about the Dark Lord’s plan for her, but she looks so increasingly annoyed, because it doesn’t matter what Lilith fucking says, Sabrina has decided not to believe her, instead of calming down, looking at the evidence, and considering everything to come to the right conclusion. I mean if she hadn’t dimissed Lilith entirely here, maybe she wouldn’t have gone killing her mandrake self and brought about the bloody prophecy, just saying. 

“Keep her bound until I come back”

Oh lovely Sabrina. Just leave a woman at the entire mercy of a man. Nick could do whatever the fuck he liked while you were gone and Lilith wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and anyone can see how much Nick is already really enjoying doing this binding spell. I’m sorry, it’s just...why would someone who believes in being ‘right’ and ‘not evil’ and is all about women’s rights and defending those who get hurt, be happy to have a woman in this situation. Especially when she hasn’t even let her explain the whole story. But then, we see how much Sabrina doesn’t note what Zelda goes through with Blackwood and in the tie-in novels she actually throws Zelda’s suffering in her face, so there we go. 

Lilith, up until this moment, has looked mostly tense, aggravated, annoyed, but the moment Sabrina says she’s leaving and Nick is to stay here and ‘keep her bound’, we see actual fear flash in Lilith eye’s and then she asks, worriedly, ‘where are you going?’

 I have gone in depth on this moment before with images and GIFs for references, so this will only be brief, but Lilith is genuinely afraid to be left alone with her autonomy entirely taken into the hands of a man. And that’s not surprising considering her experiences with the False God, with First Adam, with the Dark Lord...Lilith has been abused by men before, been powerless before, and the idea of being left bound, trapped and powerless at the hands of a man here, is making her afraid. And we could even consider that as Eve had the rib inside her from Adam so Adam probably had the same power over Eve that Nick now has over Lilith....that makes things even worse, because Lilith no doubt saw what Eve suffered. Like this is triggering so much fear and past experiences in Lilith and Sabrina, not only isn’t noticing this, she’s totally happy to leave her. 

“I’m going to find and kill my double. And then I’ll be back to kill you”

Oh ffs, fuck off. This moment drives me so mad. Because, for one, as far as she knows ‘Ms Wardwell’ is just a witch which means she’s a person/human of sorts, and therefore killing her is murder. Outright fucking murder. The thing her family are always telling her to be careful about, because once you do it you can’t take it back. And even if we reason murder has been normalised when it’s for the ‘right reasons’, Sabrina has always acted as if she’s better than that. Like no, that’s wrong. ‘All life is precious’ she told Prudence, adding that even the life of someone who tried to kill her is precious and worth saving and what not. Yet, here, oh no, totally okay to kill someone. The life of Sabrina’s teacher is apparently not precious at all now it suits her to think otherwise. Such hypocrisy and double-standards drives me mad, especially when it’s delivered with such fucking arrogance. Admittedly, Kiernan does it brilliantly. 

“Sabrina, wait-”

Lilith tries to get her not to leave, and by the way she says it, it looks like she was trying to tell her something, quite possibly that killing the mandrake will fulfils the prophecy (after all, Lilith no more wanted it to happen than Sabrina did. She just resigns herself to it after Sabrina leaves...until she finds out she won’t be Queen haha), but nope she’s cut off again by Nick. What is the point of confronting someone if you don’t hear what they have to say??

And then how much Nick looks like he’s fucking loving it, enjoying every moment, when he binds the rib even tighter and we see him cause Lilith physically pain. She is currently powerless to whatever whims or desires he have, and he just decides to torture essentially. And looks like he is really loving it. It’s such a fucking parallel to the Dark Lord, and is obviously a foreshadowing for the fact he become’s the Dark Lord’s acheron/vessel. 

[morosoro]

Reuben

Chapter 20

Summary: Reubens happy little Valentine’s Day bubble pops the moment he gets home.

Ao3 link here

He came home after school to find two visibly upset Scottish women taking tea on the sofa as his boy crawled about on the floor playing with a stuffed rabbit toy. Playing was a generous term, actually, Neal was more so just dragging it around and giggling as it moved each time his hand did. Quality entertainment for a baby, Reuben was sure.

He avoided the scowls from the older women as he crouched down to play with his son, gently taking the rabbit and making it wave to him. The babe giggled at that too. Oh what simpler times, when your happiness would depend on whether something moved or not. Reuben longed to be in the child’s place as Glynis cleared her throat.

“The Hatters called us yesterday.” She supplied.

Reuben huffed a sigh. He was getting tired of people asking about Jefferson. He’d had to answer several people today when asked, and not once had it been met with the aloofness he thought it deserved, Yes, they had a fight! It didn’t seem like a very big deal to him! “Yeah? What about it?” He asked.

“Mrs. Hatter informed me that Jefferson are no longer friends? That you told him to stop acting like himself? Now she didn’t explain precisely what happened, I get the impression she doesn’t know her son as well as she should, but Edith and I got the gist of it. And we are immensely disappointed. We thought we raised you differently.” The women told him, jaw set firm and spine rigid in her discontent.

“What? In the two months I’ve been here? Yes, a lot of raising done on your part.” He replied sardonically.

“You say that as if we weren’t pivotal caretakers of you since birth. You know full well we brought you up just as much if not more than your parents did. Now I suggest you start explaining yourself.”

“We had a disagreement. So what? It’s hardly the end of the world!” He was instantly in a sour mood as soon as this conversation had begun. He was so done having to explain himself to people who refused to understand. Even Belle had been upset with him when he told her what had happened in full. She’d told him he was in the wrong and that should apologize. He had thought out of all people she would’ve understood where he’d been coming from. Now his Aunts seemed to be antagonizing him too?! How come nobody could just give him the benefit of the doubt or see his side?!

“It was more than a disagreement and you damn well know it.”

It’s not like he’d really meant anything he said anyways. He just didn’t like the implications Jefferson’s words had set on the table. Jefferson needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

“Okay so I got tired of the jokes. I’m sorry that I don’t want people thinking I’m a bloody buftie who's shagging a dude behind his girlfriend's back.” He sneered, fed up of the conversation already. “I’m sorry for setting some god damn boundaries. In all honesty I think that if he were really my friend and not just hopeful he could ‘turn me queer’ or whatever then he would respect said boundaries.”

Edith gasped at his language, still remaining silent. Glynis’s glare only hardened. “You sound an awful lot like yer father saying words like that.” She said coldly.

His head whipped over to look her in the eye, bewildered rage taking root. How could she say that?! “You take that back!”

Glynis stared right back at him. “Or what? You’ll call us auld hags? Stomp around and break things?” After a beat of silence where he said nothing in preference of continuing to fiddle with his son’s stuffed toy, the woman continued. “Oh? Ignore us then? Your father liked to do that too.”

He stood to his full height quickly, discarding the rabbit as he went. He gestured sharply as he shouted. “Shut the hell up! I’m nothing like him!”

His son started to cry, obviously startled by the loud volume. He froze, staring down at the scared little boy in alarm. Oh no… what had he done? Had he hurt him- he didn’t think he did… but then again he had tossed away the toy pretty carelessly. Had it hit him? No! The idea made him sick.

Could he really be turning into a copy of his father? Was this proof?

Before he could think to reach for his son to try to comfort him, the boy was picked up by Glynis instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, the lines seemed quite blurred lately.” She hissed in response.

“Glynis- please!” Edith pleaded, her expression softer but still troubled. “Give the lad break? He’s been through a lot lately.”

“That’s no excuse for bigotry and slurs! Did you not hear him, Edith? ‘Buftie’, ‘Queer’? Doesn’t that upset you?” The other woman asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes…” Edith agreed before pausing to sigh lengthily. “But I’m also aware that he’s in a very tough spot. He’s still only a boy, see… He’s bound to have bad days and ugly moments. We all are, Love.” The other said, calm but firm. “ Besides, shouting at him and making him feel like shite won’t get us anywhere productive...”

Still holding the sniffling child, and with her jaw still set Glynis also sighed heavily through her nose. She seemed to calm slightly before deciding “Fine then, you deal with him. I’ll be taking Neal for a stroll down the paths. I suppose I could use some air.”

Edith nodded. “I think that’s best, dear. Thank you.” She then looked at her still visibly angry and hurting great-nephew. “Why don’t you go to yer room? Put on a tape, read a book… calm down some? I’ll come up and speak to you before dinner, Aye?”

Reuben, with clenched fists and hunched shoulders, let out a grumbled “Fine…” before hurrying his way upstairs.

—

He was only a couple chapters further into his copy of ‘Lord of The Rings’ (borrowed off of Moe, actually. The man had recommended it to him a couple of weeks ago) and the chorus to Genesis’ ‘Land of Confusion’ was playing when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Sighing, he paused his cassette, marked his place in the book and called for the person to come in. To no surprise, Edith entered, and she had brought more tea for the both of them.

She sat herself on the foot of his bed and offered him the mug, he accepted it and took a sip. They sat in silence for a moment before she finally decided to speak. “You know lad, it doesn’t matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to be disrespectful.”

He stayed quiet, only grunting over the rim of his mug in response. She continued. “But we’re not going to talk about earlier today. Glynis and I are older than dirt, we’ve heard it all. We can take it. I want to talk about what happened with Jefferson.”

“We had an argument. What more is there to talk about?” He responded lowly.

“Why?” She asked. “Why were you arguing with him?”

“Because I was sick of the gay jokes.” He answered. “The ones that implied… stuff. I’m no feckin’ fag and he can’t bloody turn me into one!”

The woman let out a hissing sound, as if she had be burned. “See, what we’re not going to do is use terms like that.” She told him, stern voice in place. “Like Glinnie and I have both said, upset is no reason for disrespect.”

The teen was once again quiet as he sipped his tea again. The woman moved ahead in the conversation. “A person cannot ‘turn’ gay or straight. They either like the same sex or they do not. And it is not a bad thing to be that way.” She explained.

���Sure, okay… whatever.” He replied. “It still doesn’t fucking matter. He crossed a line and it made me uncomfortable so I told him to knock it off. That’s it. I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it!”

“Because you hurt his feelings. And I think you knew what you said would hurt his feelings. That’s not okay, Reuben. You need to understand that.”

“I get it!” He barked. “I was just upset, okay? I lashed out. It happens…”

“Then it sounds like you need to work on controlling yourself. Maybe start by thinking things over before you say anything, like why Jefferson’s jokes upset you so much in the first place.” And with that she got up to leave again, throwing a casual “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Over her shoulder as she went.

After the door shut behind her and he was by himself again he let out a frustrated growl. After setting down his tea, he drew his knees to his chest and raked his hands through his hair frustratedly, head hanging low. Why was he like this? Why was his anger like a light-switch? This was definitely something to bring up with his therapist next time.

He sighed then as he made a small connection in his head. Dr. Hopper had told him last time that he ought to take time for himself to think and figure things out and work on ‘self-improvement’. Edith had just told him to do pretty much the same thing. He glanced to his nightstand where the crinkled pamphlet-turned-coaster sat, and after a moment’s consideration, he reached for it, taking it out from under his mug. He turned to the second page.

‘Ask yourself ‘Why?’. Contemplate response. Consider your reasonings. Repeat.’

Why did Jefferson’s Joke upset you?

“Because it made me uncomfortable.” He mumbled.

Why did it make you uncomfortable?

“Because… I could picture it?”

Picture what?

‘I’m straight!’

‘So is spaghetti until you get it hot and steamy.’

‘Hot and steamy’

Hot and steamy...

“Fuck!” He growled out, tossing the pamphlet away. “This is bloody stupid! I’m not getting anywhere!” He told himself as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the unwanted images away. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?! He hated it. He hated himself.

It was hard to believe today had started out so lovely, with his girlfriend in his arms and a promise ring in question.

“I need a nap.” He decided. “A long one.”

———

Doctor Hopper was a strange individual. The kind of man that made Reuben wonder how his son Archie had become… well… Archie. Guys like Archie tended to have strict, straight-edge, academics-obsessed fathers. The type with the big glasses and button-down shirts that they tucked so neatly into their khakis. They were a vision of who their sons would become, but not Doctor Hopper.

No, Doctor Hopper was more laid back. Yes, he wore khakis and button downs but in a much more sloppy-casual sense. His hair was long and he wore a cowboy hat atop his head. He didn’t tip-toe with his words, he just spoke freely from his thoughts (and his degree, hopefully). He was also just odd enough for Reuben to believe he’d likely had a few run-ins with the law in the past. Yes, Reuben could definitely see this man scamming people of their money, or being picked up off the street where he lay a drunk… or something… fool. And yet this man was somehow his therapist and he was supposed to trust him and his advice. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

They currently sat opposite each other, Reuben on a large leather sofa, and Dr. Hopper laid back in the matching armchair. The latter was having a cigarette as he listened to his patient’s concerns.

He puffed out a measured stream of smoke before speaking. “So, basically, you’ve been acting like a cunt to your friends and family and you don’t know why?”

“Uh…” Reuben shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“You just freak out when you feel targeted? As in you just suddenly feel like you have to defend yourself… but really all you're doing is spewing shit?” At the teens nod the therapist took another puff, answering with his exhale “Sounds like anger issues to me, kid. Probably got it from the alcoholic disgrace you call a dad.”

Reuben huffed a worried sigh. “So what? You think I’m going to wind up like him?”

“Nah, unlikely.” The man responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You both have issues and bad trauma, but yours is just…” he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Different. That stuff really shapes a person. You’ll be fine… or well… as fine as someone like you could be.”

Someone like him? He wondered what that implied. He didn’t want to ask. Instead he focused on the positive. “You think so?”

“Yeah, kid. As long as you keep trying to get better, hell yeah! Anger issues? No problem kid. We can manage that with just a bit of work.” The adult said before taking another draw.

Curious, Reuben asked him “What kind of work?”

“Thinking. Self-help work, kid. You know about it, it was in the pamphlet. First off, why do you think you were acting like a cunt in the first place?”

Running his hands through his hair, Reuben groaned. He should’ve known. “Because my friend was making jokes that I didn’t like. They made me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why?” The man prompted him to expand on it.

“Because they were implying something that I didn’t want to be implied.”

“So it’s something you’re insecure about then?”

That gave Reuben a moment’s pause. Was he insecure about his sexuality? “.... no?” At least he didn’t think so.

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

Fuck.

He huffed, frustration growing. “What do you mean? I’m definitely secure about it!” He snapped.

“Whoa man-“ the therapist warned. “Don’t go acting like a cunt on me now. I’m just trying to help you figure this out.”

The teen pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything. “I know… I’m sorry. I just don’t know why it upset me.”

“Then you just gotta think a little deeper about it sometime. But don’t try to rush it. Take your time to figure you out, Y’know?”

“I-I guess?” They were quiet for a moment before he asked “What do you think the reason was?”

“Hey, I can’t really say for sure, I’m not in your head. But to me it just sounds like the jokes just hit too close to home. He hit a nerve, something you're insecure about and don’t want to address. Whatever it is, you should probably address it before you try to apologize to this guy. You do want your apology to be as genuine as possible, right?”

Confused and practically in a stunned silence, he realized the implication his therapist had just made. He only swallowed thickly and nodded, squeaking out a broken sounded “Yeah, right.”

[autisticburnham]

Past Tense Parts 1 & 2

Boy, rewatching this in 2020's gonna probably be a fucking trip

Trill has purple seas and Bajor has green ones???

They really named a Ferengi Belongo, huh?

Quark looks so fucking floored that Ben knows the Rules of Acquisition

Christ, forgot the cops wake Benjamin by pushing a gun into his shoulder

The dude thinks Ben and Julian are wearing matching pajamas. He thinks they're a couple

Business Man really almost walks past Jadzia

I know literally everyone who reviews this episode comments on this, but definitely not a coincidence that the men of color immediately get arrested while the white woman gets whisked away into some high class fantasy

2020 does definitely highlight how crowded and underfunded the sanctuary districts are, not to mention the fact that I seriously doubt they get any medical care, just how quickly disease could kill all these people and how little anyone would care

Business Man, you're white as fuck, you having a Maori tattoo isn't impressive, it's gross

Discount? I wish I could say government databases charging government employees for running searches and giving them ads was surprising

This guy sitting next to Ben is so sad he won't let him draw on him

Welcome to beurceacy, Julian

Christ, the cop is so condescending

Uncle, doesn't this Gabriel Bell hu-man look exactly like Captain Sisko?

Oh, Benjamin, I wish riots did start a watershed moment in history

I like to think that more than Benjamin being a history buff, Bell is one of his personal heroes

"Benjamin "power stance" Sisko triple dog darring this dmv worker to call them out for writing their birthdays 300 years in the future" @jvlianbashir 's post lives in my mind rent free

Gross that this lady is like "oh, you're not mentally ill? Well, then, I'm so sorry for not treating you like people"

"It's not that they don't give a damn, they've just given up. The social problems they face seem too enormous to deal with" that may be sharply resonant with the average person, Ben, but it's starkly clear that the people in power do genuinely not give a damn

You know what? I'm actually thrilled that disco is exploring exactly Julian's question as to whether or not humanity has really changed and how the Federation would react to a devastating crisis. Like, I know that that's ds9's whole theme as well, but it's going to be so fucking nice to have a hopeful Star Trek message about the future during this fucking year

Love Julian immediately trying to throw hands with Hat Man for beating someone up

I feel like there's a not so subtle element of racist assholery to Hat Man sarcastically asking "Oh, have we done something to offend you?" abt beating the dude up

Julian, you are too tall to sleep width wise in this alley

Controversial opinion, but Julian's homeless trash is the best outfit he wears

The sanctuary districts existing at all is disgusting, but the fact that there are babies here is horrific

Hell, yeah, dude! Class solidarity!

Christ, the hard cut from the sanctuary district to the business party isn't subtle at all

Those protests in France are undoubtedly a good thing, Business Lady

Granted, I'm white, so I could totally be out of line here, but I actually like that two of the Business People are poc, and that they're just as much privileged assholes as the rest of the Business People. I feel like despite the implications of institutionalized racism with Ben and Julian immediately being arrested, this helps subtly showcase that a very large part of the problem is capitalism bc there's not solidarity between poc if that lack of solidarity can help some of them get rich

Love Julian's tos style double fist punch

Fucking gross that they know that the government killing thousands of sanctuary city districts residents will mean absolutely nothing if the government can "justify" it with the death of like 5 government employees

I love how charmed Miles is by Nerys wanting to yell at Starfleet

"Right now, this ship is all that's left of Starfleet" the disco writers really like this episode, huh?

Class Solidarity Guy's kid just said that this whole thing started bc a guard got in a fight with a dim. Of course it's the fucking cops that escalated the situation in the first place

Of course white ass Hat Man is just trying to personally benefit himself rather than help all of the people here and also has no problem escalating the violence

I don't like Hat Man, but I do like his line "Why do they sound so surprised? You treat people like animals, you're gonna get bit!"

Of course Business Man is friends with cops

I broke my nose...

The solution isn't to get everyone jobs, it's to make it so that having a job isn't a requirement to be treated like a human being

Cop, you're a huge part of the problem for so many fucking reasons, not the least of which is your being a class traitor

"In the interest of friendship," I'll allow 10,000 people to be fed

Ds9 is largely good abt criticizing capitalism, but I do dislike the "I don't want to rely on handouts! Give me the right to work myself to death"

Listen, I know DMV Lady is trapped in the capitalist system as much as anyone else and that if she tried to help more people, she'd probably end up in a sanctuary district herself, but. Her story about helping that one lady gives me Slitheen DoctorWho "I spare one person every now and then so that I can convince myself I'm a not a monster for murdering millions" vibes

I do fucking love her "Everybody tells themself that, and nothing ever changes" in response to Julian telling her it's not her fault tho

✌🌼

Well, their dad shouldn't have been a class traitor then, Bernardo

"Change takes time" "You've run out of time" Tell her, Ben!

Jadzia Dax, coming out of her sewer to shame mankind

Gross that Hat Man is coming on to Jadzia despite how uncomfortable she obviously is and doesn't stop until he realizes she's "with" Julian

Can you imagine if Jadzia had gotten hurt here? Imagine you're a doctor getting ready for surgery and you find a giant slug in a woman

Idk why, but "Invisible" Man gives me Neelix vibes

I do like how Julian and Jadzia work with the frame he understands and just ask him to give the combadge back. "Shockingly," treating him like he's a valid person makes him agreeable

Business Man, you're rich enough that breaking the law won't even mean shit for you

Christ. "The public are starting to view them as people! We have to kill them all now before it gets any worse!"

I like the cop making fun of Julian for liking tennis

Aw, I forgot Class Solidarity Guy died

Forget matching uniforms, Benjamin's actual pajamas are gay culture

"How could they have let things get so bad" 🙃

Groundbreaking, lifechanging, whatever the rest of that Lady Gaga quote is. 100/10

[silviiarts]

Butcher of Blaviken

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier/Dandelion) - not yet together. They’re just friends in this fic. Rating: T Words: 1.9 K Genre: hurt/comfort Trigger warning: none 

The lute's chords rattled like the tinder that fed their fire, clear and almost loud in the otherwise dead silence of the night.

After a long day of work, very much needed to earn some coin, the bard loved to put his hands and instruments to the test; check if they could come up with a nice melody.

Geralt didn't mind the music, nor the musician's soft voice humming the lyrics that came to his mind. It was amusing, even.

He rested his back against Roach's plump back quarters, eyes closed and arms under his head like a pillow. Resting was a luxury reserved for the early night, when Jaskier was still awake in case that any danger showed up.

He was resting, but he wasn't asleep. And Jaskier knew this, so it wasn't uncommon for him to ask the witcher for advice every now and then.

"Hey, Geralt?"

"Hm."

"Does 'adventure' rhyme well with 'together' here?"

"... Hm..."

"Eh, that's what I thought. Thanks!"

And so they would spend hours and hours every evening. The witcher would gladly listen to all of his friend's tunes, although he didn't seem like it, and the bard would be pleased to share all his doubts and progress with him.

"Geralt?"

"Hm..."

"What rhymes with 'Blaviken'?"

The witcher's eyes slowly opened. He shifted, sitting up against his horse to stare at Jaskier.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? I can't sing about the Butcher of Blaviken without it falling at the end of a verse at least once!"

But Geralt didn't reply this time; not even the slightest of growls.

Jaskier was waiting for an answer and Geralt refused to give it. But it made the air feel tense after a while.

"... Geralt?"

"Isn't a punch to the junk enough for you to learn?" He finally growled in the lowest tone, startling Jaskier.

Geralt could even wonder, even if it broke something inside, whether Jaskier was just doing that to test him, poke fun or, even worse, because he didn't care.

And those thoughts made his fierce, feline eyes glow like embers in the dim light, which sent chills down Jaskier's back.

"Oh God- What do you mean, Geralt?" He asked, scared yet concerned.

At least, he seemed so.

It took so much of Geralt's already scarce patience to calm down his own thoughts and realize that Jaskier was, indeed, confused.

That's why he decided to take a deep breath and spit some angry words to try and make him understand.

"The first time you called me... that," he growled, brows furrowed and jaws clenched. "I thought I had made it clear that I didn't want to hear it again."

"What, Butcher of Bla..."

"Yes. God fucking damn it, yes," Geralt growled, practically glaring at his companion now.

Jaskier seemed to start understanding that the nickname carried important memories for the witcher. Apparently, not very pleasant ones.

The bard was so used to the epithets used to write that he had paid no mind to what they meant. And, judging by Geralt's expression, it had been a grave mistake.

"Why do they call you that, Geralt?" He asked in the softest voice, after a rather long and uncomfortable silence. “I always assumed that it was… a compliment. For killing a lot of dangerous critters or… something.”

The bard had never seen his witcher so... distressed. Not even fighting the most terrifying of monsters in the Continent.

He wasn't even expecting an answer from his companion anymore, when he heard a grunt rasping out his throat.

"Long ago," Geralt muttered, narrow eyes fixed on the quivering flames, "I was offered a deal from one of the most powerful men in Blaviken, a sorcerer."

Jaskier listened, quiet. He wanted to shuffle closer to the other man's side, but he chose to sit opposite of him.

That way, he could watch the emotions -those he claimed to not have, cross his face and cast their own shadows on the tale.

He wasn’t used to hear the witcher speak for so long. The deep, harsh sound of his voice draped over him like a heavy blanket, reminding him of how serious that story was.

"I refused to kill a human. He wanted me to take the life of a runaway princess, born under a curse that turned her into a... mutant."

That last word had sounded almost painful to get out.

"He had tried to hunt her down all her life. He had had her chased, attacked and even raped. I had the chance to meet her, and ended up tangled in the affairs of men."

The snarl that contorted Geralt's expression was stiff, as he tried to keep his feelings to himself. He wasn't supposed to feel, after all, not even hurt in the soul.

"She wanted to kill the sorcerer, but I refused to help her. Her allies attacked me, and I... I killed them all. One by one, in cold blood. I broke so many skulls and ribs and families that day..."

Jaskier's blood ran cold at the strained pain that twisted the witcher's voice. He knew his kind’s potential, everyone did. But that was the first time he had heard about Geralt- his Geralt, killing a human.

Nonetheless, he understood his reasons. And when Geralt tried to pick up the fear or the horror in the bard's scent, he didn't sense any of it.

"We fought. I didn't want to kill her, but I also didn't want to die at the hands of someone who didn't care about living or dying anymore. Without her allies and without my help, she wouldn’t be able to get what she wanted anyway. She surrendered to my blade, and I... I did it."

Geralt's hands twitched into tight fists, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze didn't shift from the fire, as burning as the torment and regret in his voice.

"I had finished the sorcerer’s deed without even having a choice. He wanted to ravage her body, look into her flesh for the origin of the curse. I had killed her, I couldn't let him dishonor her like that, and I thought that, maybe, it could be my redemption...”

The witcher’s lip trembled ever so slightly at the memories that washed over him like a freezing tide. He growled under his breath, fighting his emotions down with all his might.

“I threatened him, but he wasn't afraid. He turned the whole village against me and twisted what had actually happened. They sent me away with stones."

Witchers could heal very well, and all that had happened too long ago for him to have scars from the stoning, other that the wounds that it left in his heart.

Although he had tried to turn Blaviken into a valuable lesson, ‘not to get involved with men, never pick a side between them’, all it had given him was a harmful nickname and terrible, awful remorse.

The Butcher of Blaviken, as if he had been the one to let all that blood spill on behalf of his own personal benefit.

"I made friends with a little girl in Blaviken, before anything happened," he rambled on for a little longer, in a strangled whisper. "She was held hostage by Renfri, and it was my fault. She begged me to leave Blaviken, she was so afraid of me..."

Such a story managed to make Jaskier, who always sought for the raw emotions in every tale to turn them into songs, go quiet.

That was no story to be told, to be celebrated. That was a mess of human ambitions and a helping hand that got bitten. The true, raw suffering of the man he loved, and was hated by anyone else.

"Oh, Geralt- my dear Geralt..." He mumbled, trying not to express his regret as pity.

Those words sent a shiver down the witcher’s spine. In all honesty, he expected his companion to get up and leave. To finally see that he was following a beast, turn on his heel and run to the safety and certainty of mankind.

But he didn't.

Instead, he did shuffle closer this time. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and let out a sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Geralt," he mumbled, in the thinnest of whispers. That was loud enough for him to hear.

Rage, fear, sorrow, regret, vengeance. Unable to tell them apart, there were many emotions that weighted on Geralt's heart on that moment. But, out of them, sadness was the heaviest one.

And he was just lucky that Jaskier could read him like an open book.

"People are so cruel, darling..." he muttered, gently stroking his hand up and down his friend's shoulderblade. "That... horrible name is all I had ever heard anyone call you."

The witcher grunted. Not that it surprised him.

"But no one had ever told me how fair you always try to be."

Jaskier's words definitely caught him off guard. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at him.

He was met by a warm smile, despite the tiredness of his usually bright blue eyes.

"Or how caringly you tend to Roach."

His whole body was burning against Jaskier's palm, and it was strangely soothing.

"Not even about the way your pupils grow when you're relaxed! Or what a good man you actually are!"

"Because I'm not."

"Of course you are! A bad person wouldn't regret anything, would they?"

This time, it was Geralt who had to shut up. Partly because he was exhausted, partly because he wasn't going to admit that Jaskier could be right.

Even the crackling if the fire was fainter, quieter; as if it were as touched by the story of the Butcher of Blaviken as Jaskier was.

The witcher's friend brushed his hand through pale locks, almost like petting a startled stray. Although it was that gesture what startled him.

Nonetheless, his gentle smile comforted him.

He wasn't leaving. He wasn't calling him any sort of names and running away in fear. Jaskier was right next to him, much closer than before, touching his hair like it was nothing.

"Hey, Geralt, don't worry..." He whispered, sweet as honey on the witcher's tongue. "It wasn't your fault, okay?"

After almost twenty years living with the weight of Blaviken on his shoulders, it was hard to believe Jaskier's soothing, albeit unbelievable words.

He replied with a soft growl, eyes shifting towards the bard. He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s forehead as soon as he turned, leaving him even more speechless.

"Don't worry too much about what happened... You gotta focus on the present now! I'll make sure to erase that hideous nickname from History. Just let me do my thing, darling~"

"Uh- I doubt you can do that," the witcher replied, barely hushing his words.

"Nu-uh! I already made a hit! The public's hungry for more stories about you. And I will make sure that no one ever calls you that again!"

It was futile to argue with Jaskier when it came to such things. He had already got into a fight with a drunkard that called Geralt a ‘mutant beast’ before.

The witcher exhaled a soft sigh and closed his eyes. When he noticed, his chest wasn't aching anymore.