Less 📱☕️
Alexia Russo x reader
warning : fluffy 💭💗
summary :
You meet your online girlfriend "Less", only to discover she's secretly Alessia Russo, the famous footballer.
You sat in the café, sipping your drink, glancing nervously at the clock. Today was the day you were finally meeting her, the girl you had been talking to for months. She went by the name "Less" online, and you had hit it off from the start. It felt like you could talk to her about anything, and she had this charm that was impossible to resist.
But there was one thing that always nagged at you: Less never sent many personal photos. Sure, you had seen a few selfies here and there, but they were always casual, nothing overly revealing of her life. She claimed to be a private person, which you respected. After all, she made you feel safe enough to open up, and that was all that mattered, right?
You stared out the window, lost in thought when you heard the café door open. You turned instinctively, and your heart nearly stopped. Walking in was someone you never expected to see in a place like this.
Alessia Russo
You recognized her immediately. She was one of the brightest stars in women’s football, and you had seen her play countless times. But what was she doing here?
Before you could process the situation, she looked right at you, her eyes lighting up. She smiled, a smile you knew all too well. Your heart skipped a beat, confusion flooding your mind as Alessia Russo, the Alessia Russo, made her way toward your table.
“Y/N?” she asked softly, her voice familiar yet completely shocking.
You blinked, struggling to connect the dots. “Less?”
She grinned sheepishly, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Surprise.”
You sat there, speechless, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening. Less, the girl you had been talking to for months, your online girlfriend, the one who you thought was just a regular person, was Alessia Russo, one of the biggest football stars in the world.
“I... I don’t understand,” you stammered, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “You’re... you’re Alessia Russo?”
She shifted on her feet, a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to see me as... well, as ‘Alessia Russo the footballer,’ you know? I wanted you to get to know me.”
You stared at her, still processing the fact that the Alessia Russo was standing in front of you, the girl you’d grown close to, the one you’d shared so many personal moments with. And now, she was telling you she had been hiding this huge part of her life.
“I wanted to meet you like this, in person, so I could explain,” Alessia continued, sitting down across from you. “I’ve never done this before. I didn’t want my job or my career to change the way we talked.”
You could see the sincerity in her eyes, and it was hard to stay mad if you were even mad at all. Mostly, you were just shocked.
“So, all this time, you were hiding this?” you asked quietly, trying to make sense of it.
She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t want it to affect the way you saw me. I love football, but I wanted you to get to know Alessia, not ‘Russo.’”
You sat there, staring down at your coffee, feeling a mixture of emotions. It was hard to be angry, because in a way, you understood. Being Alessia Russo meant she had the world’s eyes on her. She didn’t get to live like a normal person most of the time, and she probably feared that once people knew who she was, everything changed.
“I get it, I think,” you said after a long pause. “It’s just... a lot to process. I didn’t think I’d be meeting a famous footballer today.”
Alessia chuckled softly, looking relieved that you weren’t storming off. “I’m still the same person you’ve been talking to for months, though. I still care about you the same way, and nothing’s changed in that department.”
You met her eyes, despite the shock, this was still the girl you had fallen for. The person who had made you laugh on long nights, who had listened when you needed to vent, who had shared parts of herself with you. That hadn’t changed.
“So... you’re not just some random girl who likes football,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips.
She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess not. I was going to tell you. I just wasn’t sure how.”
You leaned back in your chair, still processing everything but feeling a lot less overwhelmed. “It’s a bit crazy, but I guess I can’t be mad. You’re still my Less.”
Alessia’s smile grew wider, the tension finally easing between you two. “Exactly. And I’m really glad you came today. I’ve been wanting to see you in person for so long.”
Despite the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been wanting to see you too. Even if you did leave out one tiny detail.”
She laughed, looking at you with that soft, affectionate gaze you had come to know through your video calls. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
You shook your head, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders. “You better. But... I think I can forgive you, Alessia or should I still call you Less?”
“Call me Less” she said, reaching across the table to take your hand.
You squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch, and smiled softly.
88 notes
·
View notes
*bursts through your window at 4AM wearing bloodied Hamlet costume* Hey Tort beloved i got you a whole chicken and an egg for breakfast:
Batman VS. Bruce Wayne— which one, in your opinion, is the person and which one is the persona? Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact? I know different comics and media take complete separate parts of him as what makes him, but which one do you think makes Bruce Wayne who he is at heart?
Hi! You're not the first person to ask, so I'll put these two together. Thank you for the hearty breakfast and please accept these cakes as apology for how delayed this answer is (you and Anon both).
To be honest, I consider the question of "which one is real, which one is fake" as a bit overdone... and needlessly complicated. Especially because many times when people bring up the debate, they're thinking of "Brucie Wayne" and "Batman", with arguments of Batman being the real personality seemingly always correct and almost obvious. This oversimplifies things, because there's "Brucie Wayne", there's Batman, and then there's just Bruce.
Is the persona of "Brucie Wayne", the ditzy womanizing playboy with half a braincell, fake? Yes, absolutely. That one's a mask which serves the purpose of hiding the existence of Batman. But is that the same as Bruce Wayne, the man we see joke around with Alfred in the Cave, interact honestly with Dick and the Family and Talia and Selina and so many others-- the human underneath Batman? No, it isn't. That Bruce Wayne is very real. And Batman is not a separate persona or a mask, it's just another facet of the same person, borne out of Bruce Wayne's trauma. Batman is so many things... a coping mechanism, a way to commit suicide, the fantasy of who Bruce would like to be; but he's got roots within Bruce to such a fundamental extent that calling him a mask, or a persona, feels wrong to me. Batman is both the worst and the best of Bruce Wayne. There's no separating them... no matter how badly Bruce would like to make it that way.
Because Bruce has struggled (and still does) a lot, both with admitting to himself that there's more to him than the existence of Batman, and with maintaining a balance between the many personas he wears. "Batman is the real one, Bruce Wayne is fake" is something Bruce desperately wanted to believe and make real himself, in multiple stories. This is where this long-standing fandom belief probably stems from: from Bruce having convinced himself that "Bruce Wayne" is dead, and that there isn't anything left to him but Batman. Hell, Bruce has literally tried to "kill" Bruce Wayne and only be Batman in Bruce Wayne, Murderer? and Bruce Wayne, Fugitive; this is probably the story arc that dealt with this divide in Bruce's psyche in the most depth, I absolutely recommend giving it a read.
However, the more important thing is the why. Why this constant struggle? And it's a simple reason... maintaining ties to his humanity versus giving himself over entirely to the Vow. Batman was forged out of Bruce's pain, and is a response to loss. Batman is how Bruce channels his emotions into purpose. Batman will always want to never go through the loss of loved ones again, and the simplest solution to that is to never care again. Never have romantic relationships, maintain a distance from all the people in his life. But humans can't live like that. Bruce can't live like that, he needs grounding by the many relationships he does have, despite how much the side of him that's Batman pulls in the other direction. That's why Bruce Wayne, Fugitive ends like this:
And the thing is, we keep having the same story, over and over. Bruce nearly being consumed by Batman, and then finding his way back, most of the time with the help of his Family.
Here's another instance:
Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #140
And another one, which so beautifully illustrates how Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same, but also how Batman contains a suicidal and self-destructive side of Bruce too:
Batman: Ego
(Lol. Yeah this is your life, man.)
But you could find an equal number of examples in which Bruce declares that "Bruce Wayne" is useless and disposable, and that Batman is the only thing that matters (e.g., Robin 1993 #125). Because again, this is comics. There's no finality in sight, no traditional ending that everything we read is heading towards. Bruce will keep doing this dance, will keep having to learn how to balance these two sides of himself. Most recently this happened in Zdarsky's Batman run, with the conflict between Bruce and the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh... but don't even get me started on that utter disappointment.
Actually though, @psalmsofpsychosis, this part of your question is quite interesting: "Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact?" Because there have been times of crisis in which this has happened, in comics. And what Bruce did is probably not what you'd expect. This answer got long enough though, so I'm putting the rest under the cut.
Bruce has gone through a lot. There's been many catastrophic-level events he's dealt with. And at first glance, you'd think that he'd consistently fall back on Batman, if that's who he "really" is. But when his will genuinely breaks, that isn't what always happens. In Batman: Cult, a story that takes place towards the end of Bruce's first decade as Batman, after Jason became Robin, shows that Bruce can give up:
Batman: The Cult
Bruce abandons Gotham, and with it, Batman. Obviously, he eventually comes back. But it had to be Jason dragging him around for half this issue just to make him fight, just to make him function. (Much earlier than this, in Going Sane, he also considered just leaving Batman behind. But that story is deeply intertwined with Joker's identity as much as his, so I'm just mentioning it.)
And then Barbara gets shot, Jason dies, Bane goes after Batman in the Knightfall arc... it's just one thing after the other for the poor guy. Knightfall and its continuations are very extensive and many things happen, but after Bruce's spine is broken, he leaves Jean-Paul Valley in the role of Batman. And even after Bruce's injuries get healed, making a previously proclaimed goal of becoming Batman again much easier, he tells Tim that he doesn't want to come back. That he wants to stay retired, and "rejoin humanity":
Batman: Knightquest
Tim has to tell him of a crime that Azrael as Batman did, which is impossible to ignore... and Bruce has to confront Jean-Paul and see the truth of him having gone mad himself, before he decides to retrain and "become worthy" of his Batman identity once more.
Then, in a much bigger and well-known storyline that follows the Cataclysm event, Batman disappears for months. No Man's Land starts with a world in which Bruce has been away in Monaco trying to be someone else, instead of in Gotham, being Batman and taking control of the wrecked city which had been abandoned by all. Oh he comes back, but still...
No Man's Land: Ground Zero
So. Batman isn't his "real" identity, it isn't the core of him. Many times, he's wanted to run away and leave Batman behind, just like in some stories he was ready to completely destroy the "Bruce Wayne" identity and only be Batman. But in times of crisis, he repeatedly tried to leave and find happiness outside of Gotham and carrying the mantle of Batman... without succeeding.
Sometimes, Bruce hates Batman, and tries to run away. And other times, Batman hates Bruce, and tries to destroy him. It's a constant give-and-take, and neither facet of him has managed to succeed so far, because Bruce is Batman. There's no one without the other.
31 notes
·
View notes
Canon Details and Analysis of Fiddleford McGucket Part 2
See the first part here
Let's flash-forward to what we know about Fiddleford after college. At some point, he got married to Emma May Dixon, and they had a son together (Tate McGucket), they live in Palo Alto, and Fiddleford seems to be self-employed: McGucket's Computermajigs. Now, don't get me wrong I enjoy Fiddauthor quite a lot (and I'll give some in-depth analysis and theorizing and thinking of possibilities about that particular relationship in that context at the very end), but I want to focus on Fiddleford's character and what we do know about his wife and child.
We know from Journal 3 that Fiddleford keeps a picture of his wife and son on his desk because he says it helps keep him "grounded." It's very important to note that this picture includes his wife - if they really wanted to imply that Fiddleford's relationship with his wife was on the rocks, they could've easily made it just a picture of his son. We know that Fiddleford must have had strong feelings for his wife because in the Gobblewonker episode of Gravity Falls, Old Man McGucket claims that when his wife left him, he built a pterodactyl-tron (building giant death robots is something he does when he's upset or wants attention). If he was wanting to leave that relationship, he would not have been upset about her leaving him.
In another page of Journal 3 when Fiddleford quits the portal project, Ford writes about how he should "go back to his doting family." This tells us that while Fiddleford and Emma May did have a fight over him not getting her a Christmas present, Ford still somehow had the impression that his family was "doting." I think it's important to point out that Fiddleford has been erasing his memories since the Gremloblin incident - and the fight scene with his wife happens very shortly before the big portal test. We know the memory-erasing gun has side effects. So, anytime Fiddleford "forgets" something should be looked at as highly suspect and indicative that his memory-erasing gun is affecting him.
We know that Fiddleford must have been a good father before he left to work on the portal for Ford via context clues. In the show, despite Tate's original home being in Palo Alto, Tate chose to pack up his things and live in Gravity Falls where his mentally-addled father now lives. He chose to do that and seeing what became of his father, even though he's the town's biggest embarrassment with a reputation for being a crazy old man - chose to stay. In Shmeb U Unlocked, we're informed that Tate is extremely intelligent and capable of predicting lottery numbers.
He could literally go anywhere he wanted if he wanted. And yet, he stays in Gravity Falls where his father lives. He must have really loved his father despite it being so hard with his father's mental state and the fact that he has every right to be angry that his father left. We know that Fiddleford must have really loved his son because of that picture on his desk, because much later even with all of his memory problems, he still remembers his son, and he's desperate to spend time with him, and in the end, they're able to repair their relationship and spend quality time together.
Now, let's talk about a couple of details that I think a lot of people overlook. During the stargazing scene in Journal 3, Fiddleford mentions offhand that he'd like a place where "the screen door ain't broken." I think this is a VERY interesting detail because it makes it sound like Fiddleford's business hadn't quite taken off yet and that he might have been struggling financially because he can't afford to get his door repaired.
This opens a doorway into a theory of mine that Fiddleford is being paid for his time as Ford's assistant. Now, we're not told this outright in Journal 3, but I think we can gather this from a little thing I like to call context clues. After all, Ford probably thought the exact nature of payment deals for his assistant didn't need to be included in his research and personal journal. There's nothing interesting about it. Additionally from a narrative standpoint, it might have come across as looking like Ford had to bribe Fiddleford to help him, and that's not the vibe they wanted for Fiddleford. They wanted to emphasize that these two are at the very least good friends and that Fiddleford is the type of person who will set aside his own personal projects and self-sacrifice to help a friend at a moment's notice.
We know from the show and Journal 3 that Ford was given grants to study the anomalies of Gravity Falls. Presumably, this money would not only cover the costs of field research equipment and a research base (the shack) but also money for a research assistant if needed.
Fiddleford's wife would have to be the most permissive, most doormat wife in THE HISTORY OF EVER to allow her husband to go up to Oregon to work on a project leaving her to not only take care of her son by herself but also have to pay all the bills and rent/mortgage by herself. We know this is not the case because she (rightly) did NOT let it slide that her husband forgot to get her a Christmas present.
Fiddleford would not have had much time to work on his own business while working on Ford's portal. At this point in his life, he has his mental faculties intact, he's proven time and again to be considerate and sweet (Alex Hirsch even refers to him as a sweet soul). He's big on making thoughtful gifts, he wants to help others (in Journal 3, he is seen fixing up the ferris wheel at the carnival where he meets Ivan, although it was definitely wrong - he had good intentions in wanting to help people with their bad memories, even in the show - Old Man McGucket shows up in the sap-hole with the dinosaurs having fixed a broken lantern - Fiddleford is exactly the type of person who would see a broken-down car on the side of the road and pull over and get out his toolbox and help that person out), and he loves his family very much. He would NOT let them go unsupported and floundering for themselves while in his right mind.
So, this leads me to believe that to help convince his wife to let him help his old college buddy with his project, he'd be getting paid for his help. Ford likely would've found this reasonable and might have suggested it himself if Fiddleford expressed wanting to help but not being able to leave his family without any support. It probably wasn't a lot, but it might have been a bit better than what he was currently drumming up via his own business. This could also be why Ford is so adamant about referring to Fiddleford as his assistant in the journals rather than his friend.
Do I think his wife might have still had some reservations about her husband going to Oregon and could be a fertile field for argument later? Yes. Absolutely. But I think the fact that she let him go in the first place and the fact that Fiddleford is self-employed rather than more conventionally employed generally shows that she was a supportive wife and trusted her husband.
I absolutely DO NOT think, as some have posited, that Fiddleford abandoned his wife and son (especially his son whom he dearly loves) to have a "Brokeback Mountain" situation with Stanford. That is a terrible misreading of Fiddleford's character AND the situation. Again, Fiddleford is the type of person who HELPS people, and how much more so for someone who is likely his best friend? Not only that, but his FIRST EVER friend. A friend who Fiddleford probably knows has been alone in Oregon for years and who also has a hard time making friends, a friend who probably doesn't call him enough because he's "busy" with his research (Ford even says in the journal that he "has no choice but to call Fiddleford"), a friend who is probably stubborn about asking for help who is asking HIM (the guy who helps) for help?
Fiddleford might even already be worried about him.
And this is a "project" - a project has a beginning and an end. Fiddleford was NOT expecting to stay in Gravity Falls. He was going to go there, help Ford, and then go back to his family whom he loves. I'm not saying complicated feelings couldn't have arisen (again, I am a Fiddauthor shipper), but I am saying that Fiddleford didn't go to Oregon because he was running away from marital problems with his wife (on an additional note - people are free to write what they want - But what is WITH bisexual erasure and villifying / ignoring female characters? I mean, just because she wasn't in the show or talked about much doesn't mean we should do female characters a disservice) and intending on cheating on her.
Because again - A) He loves his family (family photo on his desk which doesn't exactly scream "Make sweet love to me Ford") B) His anxiety issues C) His empathy - he doesn't have the narcissistic traits cheaters generally have D) He's likely Catholic and all the religious hang-ups with that - (also adultery being a sin is mentioned waaaaaay more than homosexuality) E) The hostile time period for queer folks.
Also, Stanford "I find romance baffling" (Journal 3 - stargazing scene) is probably one of the biggest indicators that no cheating went on (but I'll throw you "cheating Fiddleford" headcanoners a bone much later on in which I think a possible "cheating" scenario could have realistically occurred - and I'll tell you my reasons for why I personally don't believe that happened either, but I'll begrudgingly accept a "possibility" and let you guys go nuts with the idea.)
More to come in later parts.
26 notes
·
View notes
birds of a feather | joost klein
hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.
anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.
please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.
remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.
je bent sterker dan je denkt
summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.
warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss
pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein
Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.
However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.
Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.
Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.
She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.
With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.
When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.
When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.
Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.
Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.
you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50
She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.
The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.
He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.
He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?
If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.
“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.
It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.
“No, I’ll manage.”
“Are you planning to stay home?”
Silence. On both sides of the door.
“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”
Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.
“Thanks, really.”
“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”
At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.
When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.
He swiped and entered their conversation.
you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21
i know. thanks 00:46
That was the last message he had replied to.
apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54
you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55
you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00
im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12
i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18
i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19
for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20
let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29
im worried, joost. please reply 13:54
Missed calls x7
you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50
im alive. im sorry 08:01
He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?
She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.
Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.
When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.
Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.
But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.
Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.
The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.
She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.
He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.
He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.
“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.
Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.
"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."
A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.
"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."
"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.
"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.
"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.
"I'm too tired. I just can't."
The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.
He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.
"What happened?"
He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.
She sighed and lowered her gaze.
"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."
This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.
He didn't need to say anything.
She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.
"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."
"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."
At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.
She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.
"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.
"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."
They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.
"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."
Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.
"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.
"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.
"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.
When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.
Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.
"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.
"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."
"That won't be enough for us."
"I know, but we can make pancakes."
The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.
A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.
They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.
The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.
Birds of a feather, we should stick together,
I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone
Can't change the weather, might not be forever
But if it's forever, it's even better
Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.
49 notes
·
View notes
Hello everyone,
Happy LONE STAR DAY!!
I have a few housekeeping things to talk about before I return to our usual Music Monday format, but I know we're all excited for tonight so I will try to keep this brief.
If you would like to check out our playlist for the countdown event you can find that here.
Since we are getting new episodes now, I thought it would be a cool idea for a new way to participate in the tag. If you have a song that you relate to the new episodes, share them with us!
Please continue to refer to this post for any new Music Monday info, or if you just need a refresher on how the tag works.
Here's a quick overview of what Music Monday is for those of you who are new here. You share your songs that you relate to the show, its characters, storylines, fanfics, etc. All songs are added to their respective playlists and your explanations are added to the docs I have created for each playlist.
Reminder: Make sure to either tag me in your posts OR you can use the 911ls music mondays tag so that I can find and reblog your contributions.
Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, onto my songs for the week!
---
Leave Out All The Rest - Linkin Park
I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
Cause no one else cared
After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I'm done here?
Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shared what I've made
I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
So, if you're asking me, I want you to know
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
This song is a reflection on the way we live our lives and how we will be remembered when we're gone. When I think about these lyrics in the context of Lone Star, they could really apply to any character, but Gabriel is who specifically comes to my mind for this song.
To me, this is Gabriel's message to Carlos. He's spent a lot of time reflecting on his own mistakes and has struggled to express the love he has for his son, but he hopes that Carlos will remember him as someone who never stopped trying and who always strived to be better. He didn't always get it right, but he looks at Carlos and feels so much love and pride, and he wants Carlos to know that and to see that.
Zzyzx Rd. - Stone Sour
Propped up by lies and promises
Saving my place as life forgets
Maybe it's time I saw the world
I'm only here for a while
But patience is not my style
And I'm so tired that I gotta go
What am I supposed to hide now?
What am I suppose to do?
Did you really think I wouldn't see this through
Tell me I should stick around for you
Tell me I could have it all
I'm still too tired to care and I gotta go
I'm over existing in limbo
I'm over the myths and placebos
I don't really mind if I just fade away
I'm ready to live with my family
I'm ready to die in obscurity
'Cause I'm so tired that I gotta go
This is a song written from the perspective of someone struggling with addiction. The narrator addresses his loved ones with a sort of brutal honesty about his feelings towards life, but it's also a song about love and support at the same time. It's about someone who is there for you even when you're in your worst moments and can't see a way out.
This song reminds me of TK and Owen in s1. Owen is ready to do whatever he has to do in order to help TK, and TK lets him in as much as he can, but these lyrics are also an realistic viewpoint on the state of his mental health in the aftermath of his suicide attempt. He knows Owen loves him and is there for him, but he still needs to find that healing outside of that support.
Impossible - Nothing But Thieves
Love, it stings and then it laughs
At every beat of my battered heart
A sudden jolt, a tender kiss
I know I'm gonna die of this
And that's because
I could drown myself in someone like you
I could dive so deep I never come out
I thought it was impossible
But you make it possible
I'll take the smooth with the rough
Feels so fucked up to be in love
Another day, another night
Stuck in my own head but you pull me out
You pull me out
I really hit y'all with a couple angsty gems today, so I should probably round this post out with a more upbeat song. This song screams Tarlos to me, and reminds me of the early days of their relationship where everything is new and overwhelming, but it also just feels right at the same time. They've come to that realization that what they have is something special, and that they might have found their soulmate. Before they met, such a notion felt impossible to them.
@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos
Tags!
@eclectic-sassycoweyes @literateowl @carlos-tk @paperstorm @guardian-angle22
@ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @whatsintheboxmh @firstprince-history-huh
@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @sweettkstrand
@toomanycupsoftea @corsage @certifiedflower @goldenskykaysani @reeeallygood
+ open tag
please tell me if you would like to be added/removed from my tag list
24 notes
·
View notes