#they look to be so negative all the time n look for a scapegoat and it’ll ALWAYS be a player of color/ from a ‘lesser league’

[maiteo]

the amount of casuals that are gonna be in manu’s business as well as the average evil prem fan (especially the united ones) I don’t think I can do this

please

[rnelodyy]

C!Dream, the status quo, and why conflict is okay sometimes.

In this fandom, there is a lot of talk about conflict, who causes it, who avoids it, who is to blame for it, et cetera. An argument often heard from c!Dream apologists to justify his abysmal treatment of L’Manburg in general and c!Tommy in specific is “He was just trying to stop people causing conflict! He was protecting the server by stopping these conflict-causing maniacs!”

And it’s not hard to see where they get this idea from, because c!Dream repeats this sentiment a lot, from his “happy family” speech, to the speech during the final disc war about how c!Tommy causes constant conflict, to the fact that he always portrays himself as a reasonable authority figure trying to calm down these feral creatures always fighting with one another (and we’ll get to that idea…).

My reasoning for explaining how c!Dream’s worldview is deeply flawed may be a bit controversial, so I decided to write this essay to explore the following idea:

Sometimes, conflict is good actually.

(all /dsmp /rp, names refer to characters, not content creators)

Conflict, in itself, is morally neutral. It’s the context surrounding the conflict that allows us to ascribe morality to it. This fact makes this topic a LOT harder to discuss, because morality is subjective. What I’m writing here is all my own opinion, you may agree or disagree on some points, I just ask that you read it through and please don’t start shit over this.

Anyway, the context. It’s dependent on a number of factors.

Justification. Why was the conflict started?

Intent. What is the desired outcome for either party?

Proportionality. If the conflict is started out of revenge or punishment, is it proportionate to the wrong committed?

Power Dynamic. Is the person on the receiving end more, less, or equally as powerful as the person starting the conflict?

For example, let’s compare the L’Manburg War for Independence with the intervention during the Final Disc War.

Justification:

Dream declared war on L’Manburg because he saw them as traitors, and the land they occupied as rightfully his. Therefore, them making a country of their own where his rules didn’t apply was a violation of the status quo he wanted to uphold.

Punz and the others intervened because they didn’t want Dream to kill Tommy and/or Tubbo, and were tired of his constant meddling in their affairs.

Intent:

Dream’s intent was to attack L’Manburg until they surrendered, no matter how much hurt he’d cause or how many lives he’d take.

Punz and the other’s intent was to stop Dream from killing Tommy and Tubbo, and stop whatever plan he had to keep the server under control.

Proportionality:

L’Manburg declared independence in response to brutal violence as retribution for clumsy attempts at crime, on land nobody except Wilbur was using, were explicitly pacifistic and invited Dream to make an embassy in their land to discuss trade. Dream responded by declaring war, destroying their land, luring them into a trap and killing them, and continuing to beat them down until they surrendered.

Punz and the others intervened after Dream dragged two teenagers out into the wilderness to fight him, with little chance of them ever returning. This was after months of Dream’s meddling in conflicts he had nothing to do with, trying to control people’s actions, ripping Tommy away from his home and abusing him in secret and, in the end, destroying the place most synonymous with freedom from his rule. They intervened by getting Tommy and Tubbo to safety, letting Tommy (the kid who arguably suffered the most at Dream’s hands) take his items and beat him to death twice, then locking him up in prison.

Power Dynamic:

L’Manburg was significantly less powerful than Dream and his goons, with less skilled fighters and heavily inferior gear. They held their position fairly okay at the start, but after the Final Control Room, they were basically defenseless against Dream’s assault.

Dream had always had unprecedented power on the server. He’s leveled entire countries, crowns and dethrones kings when he feels like it, overruled the decision of a court of law, and in the end, had Tommy and Tubbo completely at his mercy before the intervention. Even beating Dream was seen as such an insurmountable task that it took fourteen people (excluding Clingyduo) to take him down.

The thing about conflict, even violent conflict, is that it’s not always negative. If your sister is being abused by her boyfriend and refuses to report it out of fear, you’re gonna be hard-pressed to find someone unable to sympathize with you if you go over to his house and break his nose.

What is a defining feature of conflict, is that it disrupts the status quo.

That’s not to say that some characters are always disruptors and others always preservers of the status quo. For example, during the Disc War, Tommy is the one trying to preserve and Dream the one trying to disrupt (the status quo being: Tommy owns the discs), and during the L’Manburg War for Independence, Tommy and Wilbur are disrupting while Dream is preserving (the status quo being: Dream has absolute power and the entire server needs to follow his rules).

It’s ALSO not to say that this disruption is always bad, because sometimes, the status quo fucking sucks, and throwing it on its head is the right thing to do. Overthrowing Schlatt is seen by everyone on the SMP and pretty much every fan as morally correct, as while Schlatt being president was the status quo, it meant he was ruling as a dictator, exiling his political opponents, imprisoning and heavily taxing dissenters, being verbally and physically abusive to his cabinet members, and forcing a guest at his festival to execute a sixteen year-old boy for spying for the political opponent he exiled.

Conflict being a genuinely good force of societal change isn’t usually brought up in the fandom though, at least not consciously. A lot of people, both on the server and IRL, see conflict only as a source of hurt and pain, and try to prevent or avoid it as much as possible.

And here’s where Dream differs from someone like Ranboo. Because while both Dream and Ranboo operate on the assumption that all conflict is bad all the time, Ranboo shows this by becoming conflict-avoidant to the extreme, to the point where he refuses to pick sides in pretty much any conflict, no matter how obviously good or evil one side is. Meanwhile, Dream shows this by becoming controlling to the extreme. Mitigating conflict isn’t enough, he needs to control everything to prevent all conflict ever.

In Ranboo’s case, this is less due to ideology and more due to personality. Ranboo is a deeply anxious person, and hates being in the middle of fights. He’s also… not very self-critical? He has issues with self-worth, but he very rarely takes a look in the mirror to inspect what it actually is he believes and says, making him very gullible and convinced of his own righteousness. But while that’s a VERY interesting character trait, Ranboo’s conflict-avoidance doesn’t make him a very good character to examine in the context of conflict and what it means.

So let’s look at Dream. Because, despite claiming to want to stop conflict, Dream CONSTANTLY starts conflicts or escalates existing ones. The L’Manburg War for Independence could’ve been entirely avoided if Dream hadn’t lashed out so heavily at a nation of pacifists who made their own area to avoid violence from authorities. As I explored in my George Vod Analysis, the griefing of George’s house would’ve been a lighthearted dispute between two people if Dream hadn’t taken over the entire thing and turned it into one of the biggest diplomatic crises in the server’s history. Mexican L’Manburg hadn’t even existed for an hour before Dream came by to kill its residents and destroy its land.

So why is Dream so focused on stopping conflict, despite constantly starting it himself? Why is THAT his hill to die on?

Simple. Dream wants to prevent disruptions to the status quo. That status quo being “Dream is the one in power and everyone has to listen to him.”

But you can’t say that out loud. If you say “everyone needs to listen to me otherwise it’s not fair”, you sound like a whiny five year-old at best, and a tyrant at worst. So, instead of saying that, Dream says “I just want to prevent conflict, keep the server peaceful.”

Remember what I said about one party being the disruptor and another being the preserver? Well, Dream’s status in the early days of the server is almost always preserver of the status quo. The only times he’s the disruptor is if disrupting that status quo serves to strengthen the status quo of him being in power. For example: Stealing Tommy’s discs is a disruption of the “Tommy’s discs are his and his alone” status quo, but strengthens the “Dream is the most powerful dude on the server” status quo, because the discs give him power over Tommy.

By fighting L’Manburg, he was trying to preserve the status quo, because having a government on the server meant he no longer had absolute power. Hell, REALLY early on, he decided to kill George and burn all his stuff because George had full diamond while everyone else was still running around in iron armor.

However, after L’Manburg’s independence, Dream’s focus shifted. Instead of preserving the status quo, he’d disrupt it in order to return to the status quo as HE wanted it, with no nations, and himself at the top.

But again, that wouldn’t look good. Making yourself the undisputed ruler of the entire server is not good for optics, so instead, Dream hides behind the excuse that he’s just trying to stop conflict, or seeking retribution for slights against his nation.

By this point, Tommy, the only person who CONSTANTLY refuses to bow to his demands, becomes his scapegoat. Tommy is loud, enjoys chaos and getting on people’s nerves, and causes, admittedly, a LOT of conflict. Lighthearted, non-serious conflict with very little actual consequences, but conflict nonetheless. It’s not hard for him to start smearing Tommy’s name, painting him as this feral child at fault for every conflict ever, mostly because a lot of people already believed something like that to be true.

The idea that Tommy is uniquely destructive or chaotic is complete bullshit. Tommy is definitely on the more chaotic side, but he’s not that much more chaotic or destructive than your average server member, he’s just really loud and annoying about it, which makes the things he DOES do stick out more. But Dream, especially during the Exile Conflict, continuously pushed the idea that Tommy is the only one creating conflict on the server, that Tommy is responsible for all conflict ever, and that without Tommy, everyone would be at peace.

And at some point… Dream started believing this himself.

His speech during the Final Disc War illustrates this perfectly. He tells Tommy that ever since he joined, there’s been nothing but war and terrorism and conflict, and that those originated from the attachments Tommy brought to the server. That, by cutting off his own attachments, exploiting everyone else’s, and getting rid of Tommy, he could restore the old status quo, before L’Manburg, before Tommy, when everything was peaceful and no conflict existed. Except, Tommy is too fun to fuck with, so instead of killing him, Dream was going to lock Tommy up in Pandora’s Vault, probably for the rest of his life, to continue breaking him.

This is a prime example of Dream falling for his own bullshit.

First of all, Tommy didn’t cause all those wars, he was actually on the receiving end of most of them. A vast majority of the wars and terrorism Tommy got caught up in were actually started by Dream, or Dream was actively helping the guy who started it.

Second, Tommy didn’t bring the concept of attachment to the server. He gets very attached to things, true, but attachment is a very basic part of the human condition. Even Dream, the guy openly shunning all attachment, isn't immune to it, in the end, he’s attached to the server as a whole, and Tommy, who he gave almost biblical importance in his narrative. Like Tommy said, if you have no attachment to things, why does anything matter at all?

Third, getting rid of Tommy and controlling the entire server with their attachments… that wouldn’t have restored the status quo, because the status quo exactly as Dream envisioned it never existed. He’s not chasing a past that was ruined by Tommy, he’s chasing an idealized fairytale version of the past where everyone was friends and frolicked around in the fields and there was never any conflict, before Tommy came along and ruined everything. Before Tommy joined, there was a SHIT ton of conflict, from minor disputes over theft, to the above-mentioned incident where Dream destroyed George’s stuff, to the lemon tree conflicts that wound up being taken to court!

Except, even this idea of Dream wanting to restore an idealized, made-up past is only partially true. What Dream is looking to return to and uphold is a world where he was the only authority and nobody questioned him. The status quo he wants to return to, no matter how much he denies it, is the one where everyone was at his mercy and he could do whatever he wanted without impunity. However, because he’s convinced himself that conflict is the issue, not disobedience, even if his plan succeeded, he’d have to keep the entire server in a chokehold to get them to follow his ideal plan.

Because conflict is inevitable. Anywhere where there’s two or more people sharing a space, you’re going to run into conflict at some point. People will have disagreements, they will fight, they will have miscommunications, they will have a bad day or accident and antagonize someone else.

Resolving these issues through conflict, whether it’s verbal, physical or legal, will result in a healthier community in the long run, because people’s pent-up frustrations will get an outlet, and people will try to hash out compromises or accommodations based on the reactions they get. It’s not always the ideal solution, but it’s better than just sitting everyone down, telling them to play nice, and smacking them over the back of the head as soon as they start complaining.

But conflict threatens the status quo. And as Dream involves himself in more and more conflict, they increasingly start threatening HIS status quo. So in order to maintain his status quo, conflict needs to be stomped out as soon as it crops up, no matter how minor it is.

So, now to paint a timeline through this lens.

Dream started off as the ultimate power on the server, able to do whatever he wanted without consequence. Tommy joined and threatened that status quo, but he was just one guy, so keeping him away and occupied wasn’t too hard. It was fun, even.

Then L’Manburg came, and posed the first substantial threat to Dream’s rule. Dream tried crushing this rebellion before it had a chance to take root, but in the end, Tommy traded his discs (the things Dream was using to control him) for L’Manburg’s independence. The status quo changed, L’Manburg was here to stay.

However, L’Manburg still posed a threat to Dream’s rule, so manipulating events to destroy it became Dream’s next priority. He supported Schlatt during the election in the hope he’d destabilize the nation, then sided with Pogtopia in secret to help overthrow the government, then helped Wilbur with the TNT to blow L’Manburg sky high, then betrayed Pogtopia for Schlatt’s side for the revival book. When Pogtopia won, Dream was egging Techno on through whispers to try to get him to go ape shit, so with Techno’s withers and Wilbur’s TNT, L’Manburg was gone, and the old status quo had been restored.

Except it hadn’t been. L’Manburg was rebuilt, with Tubbo at the helm this time, and a new status quo was put in place, with L’Manburg still there and still a threat. However, with Wilbur’s death, Tommy was left almost completely unprotected, and Dream took his chance to get Tommy thrown out of the country, hoping to get his biggest threat out of the way, as well as being able to sink his claws into the L’Manburg Cabinet.

Dream isolated Tommy in exile and tried to break him to the point where he wouldn’t put up any resistance. During this time, he also commissioned the prison, which he claimed to only be for the most dangerous members of the server, but is a pretty transparent attempt to enforce his rule by making a place where he can stick anyone who disobeys him. The server is slipping more and more out of his control, with more factions popping up and more people outright defying him, so like any dictator, he takes harsher and harsher measures to stay on top.

Tommy escapes exile, and while Dream is keeping tabs on him, he can’t directly control him anymore. So, to prevent Tommy from returning to L’Manburg and stopping his plans at disrupting the status quo, he blows up the community house, frames Tommy for it, and goes to Tubbo to demand Tommy’s disc, the only reason destroying L’Manburg was disadvantageous for him. Tommy jumps in to defend himself and takes L’Manburg’s side, but in the end, Dream takes both the discs, then destroys L’Manburg with Techno.

By this point, the status quo Dream wanted to craft is almost complete. L’Manburg is gone, there are no other major factions threatening his rule, and he’s pretty much set a precedent for what happens to dissenters. All he needs to do now is get rid of Tommy.

Except he can’t kill him. Over time, Dream has become obsessed with Tommy, to the point where he’s started seeing Tommy as the lynchpin of the server that everyone else gravitates around. Tommy is almost a living MacGuffin: he brings chaos and attachment which gives him power, but in the right hands, that power can be harnessed to create order.

(This is absolute nonsense of course, Tommy is just A Guy, his presence itself doesn’t create chaos, and controlling him doesn’t mean controlling the entire server because a lot of people just plain don’t give a shit.)

So instead of killing him, Dream tries to put him in prison. He even outright says that he wants to finish what he started in exile, this time with even tighter control and no possibility for escape.

He goes to kill Tubbo for multiple reasons: Tubbo is no longer useful to him, Tubbo can be used as leverage to keep Tommy compliant in prison (the possibility to revive someone’s best friend is a pretty valuable bargaining chip), and Tubbo would absolutely raise hell if Dream threw his best friend in jail for no reason.

If Dream had gotten his way, he’d be able to blackmail everyone on the server into compliance. Tommy, his scapegoat, would’ve been in prison, so now without a scapegoat, he could’ve probably gone one of two ways.

He could’ve created a new scapegoat to blame all new conflict on. Quackity would’ve been a good candidate, he’s VEHEMENTLY anti-Dream, and would’ve had no qualms about starting shit with him. Whether it was with El Rapids or with Las Nevadas, Quackity would’ve been the biggest anti-Dream voice in Tommy’s absence. So c!Dream would keep Quackity around, blaming him for everything that goes wrong… Until Quackity would get too uppity and either gets murdered or put in jail with Tommy, and the cycle repeats until either people rise up, or everyone who isn’t completely subservient is in prison.

Or, he could’ve cracked down EVEN HARDER on conflict. Anyone creating a new nation gets stomped into the dirt, anyone fighting over resources gets murdered, anyone squabbling over griefed property gets thrown in prison for weeks at a time, all the while their property and pets that they care about more than anything else get dangled in front of their noses. Anyone who’s ever read any more than five pages about the dynamics of dictatorships can see that this kind of repression is basically ASKING for revolution, especially since Dream has shunned all friendships at this point and his only ally is only there because Dream pays him.

(this is all speculation, we don’t know what would’ve actually happened, dont yell at me)

The status quo Dream is trying to return to never existed, and the one he creates in the process isn’t sustainable. Stopping every conflict ever is completely unsustainable and detrimental to the larger community, which Dream knows, because he uses conflict CONSTANTLY to get his way, while still presenting himself as a peacekeeper. What he’s really against is disruptions of the status quo, because the status quo allows him to do whatever he wants and control the server as much as he wants.

Conflict isn’t inherently bad. Some conflicts are harmless, some are necessary disruptions of the status quo. Conflict itself is morally neutral, and trying to prevent all conflict ever leads into some… iffy territory. Remember when Ranboo yelled at the L’Manburgians for participating in conflict the day before Doomsday?

Anyway. Please examine situations with more nuance than “conflict bad”, it’ll make for much better analysis. Trust me. /nm

[mrsjadecurtiss]

The thing that we won’t have a roose chapter it’s kinda sad. Like we will never know if doing certain things (like the red wedding) didn’t minimally affect him or otherwise. Like we can’t forget that he doesn’t EXPRESS his feelings not that he hasn’t any. I know Brabrey said this specifically but as wise she is she can’t read others mind. I’m not justifying any action I’m only saying it would be interesting finding out he actually “gives shit” about things he did. And I know the probabilities of this being true are very low, but as a person myself who has difficulties to express my emotions and seems apathic to others while I feel emotions with the same intensity as everyone I was curious.

Oooh now that you sent your second ask the original one appeared! My reply got a little long; I will use quotes from your ask as “chapter headers” for the different topics so it is easier to understand.

“We will never know if doing certain things (like the red wedding) didn’t minimally affect him or otherwise. [...] I’m not justifying any action I’m only saying it would be interesting finding out he actually “gives shit” about things he did.”

I don't think Roose feels *bad* about the red wedding - he didn’t have to do it after all, it's not like he was under coercion or threat of his life; arguably the entire thing wouldnt have worked without having a strong northern traitor. While Robb's cause was a losing one and this influenced Roose to turn cloak after weighing the alternatives, Roose was not in danger under Robb and his betrayal appears to have been about both minimizing his waste of resources in a losing cause as well as the advantages he can get from this new alliance and what Tywin offers.

Roose appears to fundamentally be a selfish man, who decides his actions after what will give him the most benefit at the smallest risk to his own person. Any regrets i imagine he might feel (this could be what you meant in your ask) would be not on a moral level, but rather about mistakes he made that led him into a position that might not end well for him, and the danger he has gotten himself into.

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear.  - aDwD

Roose to me represents the worst of feudalism, and the epitome of how someone turns out who is raised at the top of this society and with an unchallenged privilege. He has no respect for the autonomy of the people below him in hierarchy, and sees politics and the power at his hand as a tool to benefit himself first and foremost.

“We can’t forget that he doesn’t EXPRESS his feelings not that he hasn’t any.”

Agreed - for all that he is evil and callous i believe it is shown that he has feelings and emotions, which he generally hides under a mask.

Roose Bolton's own face was a pale grey mask, with two chips of dirty ice where his eyes should be. - aDwD

We know he feels fear about his crumbling political situation, he feels fondness for Walda, he appears to talk about Domeric with affection, he is amused enough by Arya not to punish her, he refuses to break the taboo of kinslaying, and something drives him to keep Ramsay around even though it is not advantageous rationally. He has his wants and needs, he has societal expectations he adheres to (like the expectation to continue his family line), he has a distaste for being disrespected...

As an example of him showing emotion, in the Red Wedding itself i believe grrm intentionally contrasts his behaviour with the prior Jaime chapter: where in his dialogue with Jaime he seems relaxed, talks a lot and is shown enjoying his food, in the Red Wedding he is quiet and doesn’t eat much while exchanging subtle threats with Lord Walder. This appears to show that he was indeed stressed in this high-stakes situation and aware of the danger he was in. Note that the quote from aDwD about him showing fear also explicitly points out that he says "nothing at all" in a time of stress, paralleling his lack of dialogue during the RW chapter. (Catelyn is depressed and so probably not talkative, but he also doesnt engage in dialogue with his wife despite her “chatter”).

I wont expand on it too much in this post for length's sake, but i think it is also likely that Roose shares traits with Ramsay in terms of emotionality (which he then hides under his “mask”, as opposed to his openly emotional son); For example his behaviour of not tolerating disrespect and taking what is "his" in the event with the miller's wife. Some i also briefly touched upon in this meta.

“I know Brabrey said this specifically but as wise she is she can’t read others mind.”

In “The Prince of Winterfell”, Barbrey has a long paragraph about her opinion on Roose. As this is her first longer scene, it is my opinion that her entire long dialogue scene with Theon is meant not only to show insight into some of the characters she talks about, but also about her own character; since the way someone talks about people shows how they think.

The negative way she talks about Roose ( “Roose has no feelings, you see.”) seems to be informed by several things:

- Obviously, his callous and selfish personality and lack of morals

- The fact that Barbrey and Roose clearly have history. Considering that Roose now has Ramsay as his heir, and Barbrey loathes Ramsay for what she believes is his fault in Domeric's death, Barbrey likely harbors some resentment against Roose for this move. This likely boosts her opinion that he is completely emotionless and only "plays with [people]" without caring for them. Her line "He does not love, he does not hate, he does not grieve" seems to contain a certain bitterness, and i believe it at least partially refers to their personal history (one could try to continue her words: he does not love [Barbrey], he does not hate [Ramsay], he does not grieve [Domeric].).

- Barbrey calls Theon's heart "craven and cringing", she calls Wyman Manderly "craven to the bone, that one", and she holds a grudge against Eddard for what he did to her without presenting much understanding for his side of the story. I believe she has a tendency to have a slightly superficial view of people or at least to talk badly about these superficial aspects, informed among other things by their appearance (Ned and Roose are plain, Theon and Wyman have physical deficiencies) and presentation (the colder Roose/Ned vs the outgoing wolf-blooded Brandon), and by the slights she perceived they did to her. She also has a tendency to scapegoat people to cope with grief, like hating on Rickard’s maester for Brandon's marriage.

So while she is right about Roose' callousness and moral bankruptcy and has some correct statements, as a fallible character (as opposed to the all-knowing author) she likely somewhat designs her view of him to fit her own narrative and worldview. So while she is an enticing source since she is close to him, her view on him should be taken with a grain of salt the same way she is not 100% correct about people like Ned or Wyman. Some things she says can be argued with through character analysis, and some things we have concrete quotes we can contrast: For example while she says "I think [Roose] would be pleased if the fat man attempted some betrayal", we know that Roose is in fact worried and bothered by the prospect, and in his dialogue to Ramsay it reads like he describes the unfaithfulness of his allies as threatening instead of an amusement. She also theorizes Roose wants to be king in the north, which seems like an impossible plan in his current political situation and nothing we had any hints towards so far in his scenes (I sometimes like to muse it might have been a reference to grrm's plans for the five year gap).

So basically what i would love a Roose PoV for is turning all the "apparently"s and "maybe"s from my metas into either confident statements or to deconfirm them... Showing some more of his view on the world, some more of his past, how he really feels about people without filtering it through dialogue and political goals... His worries, his anger, his happiness, raw and unfiltered... His long scene with Theon in Reek III practically doubles as half a PoV chapter because of the insane amounts of exposition in his dialogue (Theon barely talks or thinks for pages while Roose talks), but it is still filtered through Theon's impression of him and the agenda Roose might have behind his spoken words to present himself in a certain way.

I like to analyze his character from his lines in the book, and what few quotes I find by grrm in the So Spake Martin collection round out my impression of him well, but I would love to have a view inside his head to really get to the meat of it, and get a view of his true personality without the help of assumptions and implications.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

My Feelings About Bradford Buzzard And His Grandmother

First, If No One Has Seen The Last Episode of The Final Season of Ducktales Reboot with the Last Adventure, do not read this unless you seen that episode first.

okay here goes...

My feelings on Bradford's Grandmother, I don't like her.

she is the reason Bradford became the way he is in the first place.

plus whenever Bradford tried to reason with Scrooge, he got ignored, so of

course he had to use the papyrus to make Scrooge, Della and Donald forget he was ever there. even if he did transform into a monster,

it wouldn't be because he's evil. it would be from the negative emotions and the misinterpretation people have of him, so he isn't truly a villain, if anything he is a victim and that jerk of a Finch is the root of it all.

Even if she is Scrooge's hero, but even he would need to accept that she was a insensitive woman who caused a child trauma that led him to grow-up cold and truly alone.

Yes Bradford made mistakes, but he was blinded.

He tried to keep chaos from going out of control, even if it meant doing something that would hurt a family, which he shouldn't of did and that had crossed a line.

I don't believe that Bradford was truly evil, he was just a broken soul who wanted to stop dangerous adventures and possibly save those like him from suffering the same trauma he suffered since his childhood.

No one has to agree with me, but I just feel that most villains have good in them.

And most of their trauma and suffering are caused by the good guys or the main hero/heroine.

Plus No Hero or Heroine should be above the consequences of damaging someone else's life,

Either they be another hero or villain or a neutral party.

Scrooge wasn't truly at fault for what happen to Della, but if you think about it, it was 100% Della's.

She could of not stole the ship, but she did. and it because she chose to listen to the one who told her of the surprise, she could of chose to ignore it and act surprise later, and not cause her family to end up they it did.

Scrooge didn't mean for to become lost in space, but he isn't excused for some truly heartless things he has done in the past because of his greed before he found the true greatest treasure, which is his family.

He hurt Magica, and I believe the reason why they had that fight so long ago in the series, is because she wanted to get him back for what happen to her brother.

Even if Louie made a good point, that his villains/enemies, made him a better person.

That still doesn't excuse him for purposely not helping someone who asked for help, even saying they give him anything if he help them.

The pain that Scrooge felt when he lost Della, was perhaps the same feeling that Magica felt when she lost her brother and never saw him again.

I believe that the Phantom Blot, might really be Mr Vanderquack, Bentina Beakley's son-in-law,

Who is now a widow, who lost his wife and Bentina's biological granddaughter, before Webby came along.

But the biological granddaughter could of survived, while Edna Beakley-Vanderquack did not.

the reason why Blot wants to destroy all magic and Magica,

might have to do with the fact that he lost his wife Edna and his child.

If the incident happen before Webby was born, then I think Pepper might really be Bentina's Granddaughter.

But all that is just a theory.  if the story picks up in a Darkwing Duck Reboot and reveals that the theory about Phantom Blot being Mr Vanderquack, the widow of Edna, and Pepper being his long-lost daughter is true....then I guess I would be surprised.

But yeah back to the whole Isabella Finch, she is truly not as great as everyone makes her.

She caused Bradford to become who he is, and she couldn't see the damage it would cause later in his life.

Plus I believe that there was a reason why we saw a clone of Bradford, the real Bradford might of known what would happen if he faced Scrooge, so he used that ray thing that makes someone smart or dumb,

Shot it at his clone that looked 100% like him, then sent the clone to deal with Scrooge, while the Real Bradford himself sneaked away unseen by both sides.

If that theory is true, then maybe it will show it in the reboot of Darkwing Duck.  

I hope some of you understand my view on Bradford, at first when it was revealed he was a part of FOWL, I did thought he was a villain. but after the episode that first showed that papyrus, and even showing a bit more of his past...but perhaps not all of it.

I don't view Bradford as someone who is evil, just someone who is deeply hurt and tried to do good but ended up hurting others in his quest to achieve it.

Yes he did wrong in his life, and he was blinded by his ambition that cost him in the end.

And we should try to remember, he wouldn't be that way if it wasn't for that insensitive Isabella Finch.

Once more, no one has to agree with my feelings about it. but I still find that Finch is my least favorite character in the Ducktales 2017 Continuum.

one of the tags for this is “True Monster” and to me,

Isabella Finch was the true monster.

Bradford was her victim, and she couldn’t see that her adventures that she dragged him on, was making him unhappy and would place stress, trauma and fear in his life, and making him go down a dark path just to keep the whole world safe.

Bradford wasn’t even truly evil, just broken and emotionally hurt.

which Della, Beakley, Scrooge and the rest of the family and friends couldn’t open their hearts and eyes enough to see.

it is possible the only one who could see it, was Magica.

because the way she said that he wasn’t a villain.

I can’t agree with the actions of those who are suppose to be “Good”

but end up hurting those who are just hurt themselves.

Discord didn’t even get a proper punishment,

he, Celestia and Luna just made the three scapegoats of his actions, get turned to stone, and Star Butterfly despite the fact that her and her family have misused magic for who knows how long of generations,

she chooses to move the blame from her Mother,

to magic itself, who let me remind you everyone, is not truly at fault, but those like Star and her family who wield it.

and if you misuse that power, it is your fault, not the source of the realm your magic comes from.

at least Lena was able to do better than what Star did, I still love SVTFOE

(and still hope to get a complete dvd collection of SVTFOE someday.) 

and the last episode was still good, but I can’t agree with placing blame on magic, when it was Moon who misused it and caused so many lives to be in danger, and even ended up with Quirky dying.

Steven Quartz Universe, he went through trauma in his life that caused him to end up the way he turned out in Steven Universe Future.

I for one, love both the first series, the movie and Steven Universe Future.

the Steven Universe Future brought out some truth of Steven, that some can relate to and understand but maybe not fully.

because of what was revealed in Steven Universe Future,

about Greg’s past, I see him as both a Good and yet Bad person.

same with how Rose was during her life, as both when she was Pink Diamond,

and then when she reformed as “Rose Quartz”, which I still think that would make her a Trans-Gem, like gems who are normally be made one way, might feel like they are either a Rose Quartz, a Ruby or even a Zircon.

but the episode where we learn a bit more of Greg’s past, like how he felt about his parents and how he viewed their rules and how it seem like a prison to him.

but he might of only seen what he wanted to see, he might not of got the full picture growing up, and I had theorized that one of his parents could of been sensitive to loud music/sound, it is possible that Greg couldn’t understand.

Steven had a right to be mad at Greg, and even disappointed in him too.

Greg had cheered him up, and even made him happy finding out about his father’s old home.

but Greg made his son go back down to his lows again.

it was good that it was revealed that Steven is getting the help he needs.

when he corrupted himself, it was good that no one tried to hurt him

but hugged him when he needed that emotional support.

the kind that shows that those who are his family and friends, are there for him and are sorry they couldn’t see how much pain he was going through.

at times when a character who is normally a villain, and shows no sign of goodness in them (unlike Chrysalis, Cozy Glow and  Tirek showed when they bonded in one episode....who had shown a side of good that was in them.)

they can’t be saved...

I wont force others to agree on my view on all this, just try to respect that is how I see it.

not all villains are evil, some end up being Anti-Villains,

just as how some heroes who aren’t always good, end up as Anti-Heroes.

 even if Isabella Finch was long gone in the world of Ducktales 2017,

but to me she was the root of Bradford’s suffering and trauma.

and that makes her the woman behind the man, and the true villain.    

 now I am gonna just go and sign off and have me time.

I might sign back on later or tomorrow, it depends.

and I really hope some of you will understand how I view Bradford,

yes at first I thought of him as a villain after it turned out he was FOWL.

but then after seeing the other sides of him, I can’t help but understand he was misunderstood and he only wanted to protect the world from danger.

(he just ended up going about it the wrong way, and went too far in the wrong ways to achieve that peace.)

and his grandmother Isabella, Ludwig, Scrooge, everyone, including the rest of FOWL, couldn’t see that.

I hope that at least such a thing gets resolved in a darkwing duck reboot.

and the Bradford we saw in the very end, turned out to be one of his clones.

because I believe that Bradford deserved better, he was not born that way, he was made that way because of his so called grandmother, who couldn’t see that she was making him unhappy and causing him trauma.

well thanks for listening, and once again no one has to agree about my feeling about Bradford or Isabella Finch,

or the whole theory about Phantom Blot being Bentina’s son-in-law,

who she thought died along with her daughter and granddaughter....

well the granddaughter she had before taking Webby in.

see ya later and keep safe everybody.                                      

[strayen-fx]

Counting Stars

Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

○○○

You felt something so right by doing the wrong thing.

You were never a party person--you were never a people person, actually. You hated crowds, especially crowds that contain more than three human beings.

And that is precisely why your parents were more than surprised when you told them you were going to prom.

It was already D-Day, and the mix of shock and interest in the faces of your folks would have made you feel so guilty. But, for some reason, you were feeling nothing at the time but excitement. You told them your friend's date ditched them on the last minute--lie--and that they needed company for the night--another lie. Maybe. You hoped it wasn't a lie. You really wanted to believe that your friend wants your company.

You told them your friend has already rented something for you, and that you were going to get fixed in their house. When your parents asked you to take some pictures, you rolled your eyes and reasoned: "Going to prom is uncomfortable enough. Do I really need to do something even more uncomfortable?"

Do you need a ride home? "I'd stay with my friend overnight."

What time will you get home? "I don't know." Truth.

Your parents were too surprised, and also too excited by the fact that you were trying to get out of your comfortable box, that they didn't bother to question you any further. They trusted you and your decisions. You were their quote-baby-unquote, but you were big enough to handle yourself. They were holding on to that.

And so, before your parents could change their minds, you headed straight towards Chan's home.

°°°

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be serious?"

After spending a few hours watching Interstellar (Chan's choice), you stepped out into the early night in your hooded sweater, jeans and sneakers. Chan was sporting an almost identical look, and together, the two of you looked like a pair of troublemakers heading off to wreak some havoc.

You pointed at Chan's motorcycle. "You expect me to ride that machine of destruction? Do you even know the fatality rates? They're crazy. Over the last year--"

Chan laughed, cutting you off. He expected that kind of response. "No need to pull a PowerPoint presentation, Y/N." He placed his hands on your shoulders and tried to meet your eyes. "This night is all about 'getting out of your comfortable box,' remember? This is the first step."

"The first step was lying to my parents," you corrected him.

"Touché. So this is the second step."

"Being twin masked-riders prowling the night? That is our second step?"

You tried to remind yourself that this is Chan: resident troublemaker, outlier, the obvious suspect. Of course he's using a bike. Sure, he's got a huge black bike that he probably uses for his personal illegal matters. Or at least, that was what people said about him. You have believed such rumors for, what, three years?

And then, a week ago, the two of you were brought together for a school project. You finally realized that all of the rumors were just that: rumors. Made to taint his reputation, because people need Chan, you know? They need guys like Chan so they could point their finger towards someone else and say: that's the bad guy.

One week of being with him was enough to erase all the negative impressions that had seeped into your mind. It was enough time for you to realize that everyone else was just... well, blind.

Chan grinned, handing you his spare helmet. "There's a whole big world to see. You won't see any of it if you won't move your feet forward."

°°°

Chan felt something so wrong by doing the right thing.

Given, you were the one who suggested the whole thing: ditching prom, having a night drive all across town (not in a bike, though--that wasn't part of your plan). But still, when you clamped your arms tightly around his waist, Chan felt something tug at his insides. It was a foreign feeling, but his mind knew it was something wrong. Something he shouldn't be feeling, especially not towards someone like you.

You were the poster picture of a good kid. Headed off to an Ivy League school, offered scholarships, loved by teachers and the school board. He was almost the exact opposite.

He has also been a regular talk of the school body, but not because of his achievements or anything of the sort. He was labelled a rebel, a scapegoat, someone who is always off to no good. Because he got a kid hospitalized for messing with his friends back in freshman year.

The kid tried to tingle with the breaks of Lee Felix's car. It would have caused a major accident costing the lives of more than five people, but that part of the story didn't matter. News that Chan has some tendencies began circulating, and the label stuck until senior year.

Once people see a small stain in you, they begin seeing nothing else but that stain. It's hard to get out of a label, especially if people were seeming to enjoy seeing you crumble. Chan didn't crumble, of course. He stood tall. But still.

He felt like you being with somebody like him was just plain wrong.

He wanted to give you the chance to step out of your comfort zone and see the vastness of the world. You deserved at least that. So when you approached him with your special request, he didn't have the heart to decline. You trusted him despite everything you may have heard from him. That was more than enough for Chan.

He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding through his back.

°°°

"Chan.... this is so.... beautiful."

Chan entered the woods, and for a moment you were genuinely afraid for your life. But then a serene lake came into your view, and you knew it was the right decision to trust him.

Chan parked a few meters from the water. You immediately took your helmet off and ran towards the bay, your hands clutched over your heart in deep admiration. You have always loved water -- it helps you calm down, especially during those times when you felt like being you was the biggest mistake you've ever committed.

"I have no idea we have a lake around here," you said, smiling widely.

Chan grinned. "You can't find it in the books, wise girl."

You jokingly glared at him before staring back into the water. You thought: Chan's right. There is a whole big world to see.

If I have Chan, maybe I can start seeing the world around me.

The lake was glistening faintly, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. It was nothing special, really--just another lake in a small town under the vast collection of stars, but being with you there made Chan feel like he was standing at the top of the freaking world.

And at that moment, Chan felt so weak.

°°°

It has been at least an hour since you arrived at the lake. Chan took out a blanket and some snacks, and the two of you sat talking as you watched the stars in the night sky. Actually, it was mostly you doing the talking, which was out of character. Chan was oddly quiet and distracted.

And you were afraid. Not of Chan, of course, but of the invisible wall that has suddenly appeared between the two of you.

"Hey. Is everything all right?"

Chan nodded, his expression stone-hard and unreadable. "I just kinda think we should go home now."

"What?" You checked your watch. "It's not even midnight, Chan. Is anything wrong?"

He pursed his lips. Then he began standing up, collecting your trash into a small plastic bag. "Come on."

You stood up, confused and exasperated. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything!" Chan shouted. You flinched. His gaze softened and he continued, "Everything is wrong with me, Y/N. You shouldn't even be talking to me."

And you understood. You understood what he was talking about.

"Chan..." You reached for his hands and held them within yours, relieved that he didn't try to yank them back. "Look at me. I know what those guys say about you. I have heard of all the rumors, the bad words, the accusations. They say you're unpredictable, that you hurt people, that you're...." You sighed. "But I also know that they're not true. Chan, in just a matter of week you have shown me how beautiful this world is. You taught me how to see things in a different perspective. You have shown me how to break free from my mechanical life. Hell, you even made me ride a bike."

A soft laugh escaped Chan's lips. You smiled. You brought your hand to his chest, right over his thumping heart.

"Chan. I know you better than those people. Their opinions do not matter. This heart? This heart contains all majestic and spectacular things. This heart contains the most amount of kindness I have ever felt. This heart gave me warmth. I hope you could realize how much you're worth. How beautiful you are. How ethereal you are. How--"

Your words were cut off with the feeling of Chan's lips on yours.

He was warmth and radiance and perfection, and though the kiss only lasted for a few seconds, it has left your mind in a swirling haze of euphoria.

You thought: He kissed me.

You thought: Did that happen? Did that just happen?

Chan pulled you into a tight hug, and nothing else mattered anymore. You hugged him back, easing yourself into the comfort of his wildly beating heart.

"Let's stay like this, yeah?" Chan said, and he meant something much more than embracing each other under the moonlight.

You giggled. "Until we have finished counting the stars."

Chan smiled. "Until the universe run out of stars."

[agentrouka-blog]

Dany chapters had wolves imaginary. Like she heard wolf howling in adwd n felt lonely n hungry. Do you think wolves are negative commotion in Dany chapters?

2) What are your opinions on wolves mention in Dany chapters?

and 

3) People think wolves are positive in Dany chapters when she heard wolf howling n feel sad. They forget that the lines come after Dany thinking of betrayal. Do you think wolves have negative impact in her chapters?

Hi, wolf anon(s)!

I am positive that smarter people than me have written extensively about wolf imagery in Dany’s chapters. If someone has a link at hand, I would be grateful!

But I checked and it’s only 13 mentions in the books for Dany. That’s not too much.

She buys sausages in at Vaes Dothrak that bother her bloodriders but not her wolfing handmaids:

Delighted with her discovery, Dany insisted the others join her for a sausage. Her handmaids wolfed theirs down giggling and grinning, though the men of her khas sniffed at the grilled meat suspiciously. "They taste different than I remember," Dany said after her first few bites.  (AGOT, Daenerys VI)

She goes into labor during Drogo’s blood magic ceremony. No good things happen in that tent.

Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames. (AGOT, Daenerys VIII)

Stepping into the flames at Drogo’s pyre:

The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

The outer wall of Qarth, followed by war scenes (middle wall) which do not faze Dany, and sex scenes (inner wall) which do faze her:

Dany took the warlock's words well salted, but the magnificence of the great city was not to be denied. Three thick walls encircled Qarth, elaborately carved. The outer was red sandstone, thirty feet high and decorated with animals: snakes slithering, kites flying, fish swimming, intermingled with wolves of the red waste and striped zorses and monstrous elephants. (ACOK, Daenerys II)

A vision in the House of the Undying, running from the specter of a mute crowned wolf:

In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

She fled from him, but only as far as the next open door. (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

A story of Unsullied v. Dothraki. Wolves and crows dine together on the remains of a horse-based, defeated army.

"By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. (ASOS, Daenerys I)

Dany blaming wolves for missing sheep:

"Men make fires. Men cook mutton. Burnt bones prove nothing. Brown Ben says there are red wolves in the hills outside the city, and jackals and wild dogs. Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?" (ADWD, Daenerys I)

They also want to blame Hazzea’s death on a wolf:

"Men will ask," the grieving father had said. "They will ask me where Hazzea is and how she died."

"She died of a snakebite," Reznak mo Reznak insisted. "A ravening wolf carried her off. A sudden sickness took her. Tell them what you will, but never speak of dragons."  (ADWD, Daenerys II)

Wishing her allies were a bit more vicious:

And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.” Daario won that for me, for all that it is worth. “The Lamb Men. Would that lambs had teeth.” “That would make the wolves more cautious, no doubt.” That made her laugh. (ADWD, Daenerys V)

The fighting pits. Six wolves defeated by an elephant make food for the hungry. 

Beasts were still allowed, though. Dany watched an elephant make short work of a pack of six red wolves. Next a bull was set against a bear in a bloody battle that left both animals torn and dying. "The flesh is not wasted," said Hizdahr. "The butchers use the carcasses to make a healthful stew for the hungry. Any man who presents himself at the Gates of Fate may have a bowl."

"A good law," Dany said. You have so few of them. "We must make certain that this tradition is continued." (ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Who is hungry? Someone who is also wondering about who tried to poison her:

Poison. It had to be poison. The honeyed locusts. Hizdahr urged them on me, but Belwas ate them all. She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai'i? The Sons of the Harpy?

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

From eating wolves to food for wolves:

"My friend," she said aloud. "If I stay close to my friend I won't get lost." She would have slept beside the water if she dared, but there were animals who came down to the stream to drink at night. She had seen their tracks. Dany would make a poor meal for a wolf or lion, but even a poor meal was better than none. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

And, finally, between retching and dysentery, she expects to share the fate of that Qohorik heavy horse:

My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb. Her eyes went back to Dragonstone. It looked smaller. She could see smoke rising from its wind-carved summit, miles away. Drogon has returned from hunting. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

Well. I think, without adding anything further, the quotes speak for themselves, don’t they? Enemies, scapegoats, eat or be eaten. Things to run from, things that harm her, things that poison. Beautiful exactly once: when the flames engulf her, when Drogo rides again.

[heli0s-writes]

III. On the road, and off the road

Summary: The three of you travel to Cincy where they find out a lot more about your family. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Uh hu h uh uh u huhuhh whaaaaat is happening??? Seriously though, there will be a short angsty segment soon, and then we can get back to the tomfoolery. XX

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

A heavy weight on your stomach wakes you up the next morning. Buckeye has climbed onto the couch and over your body, placing his chin right on your sternum. His tail whacks against your propped-up foot as you begin to stir, and he plants a wet good morning kiss with his nose right over your mouth.

“Ah!” You cry, wiping it off with the back of your hand, “Geez!” He does it again and you can’t help but laugh, even though it’s cold and slimy. He looks pleased as punch as he flops his head back on your chest and stares lovingly into your eyes. Yes, you think, only an animal can love you in the morning. Eye crusts, dragon breath, and all. Stupid big-ass dog makes you soft and gooey.

“C’mon. Off.” You pretend to be annoyed and he slides onto the floor with a whine and follows you into the restroom as you brush your teeth.

Taking in the damage to your apartment— which is none at all, you figure it ended well last night. There’s a memory of you throwing vodka at Tinder-Date-Dickhead and then taking an Uber home. Good call on not driving, you pat yourself on the back and take Bucky outside.

Three alerts are on top of the speech bubble when you get a chance to look at your phone afterwards. Natasha. Steve.

Nat: Sunnywaters?

You heave a sigh and reply: Dude stop threatening me.

Then, you open the other message.

Steve: You up? Buck and I are packing— swimsuits? Yes or no? Also Cincinnati has its own Coney Island… ha ha ha very funny. I bet it stinks compared to the [1/2]

Steve: “real” Coney. Do your parents know we’re coming? I’d hate to intrude. [2/2]

You punch the green call button and rush back inside, scaring Buckeye a little with your sudden frantic movements.

“Good morning!” Steve’s voice sounds like a firecracker. And then he’s popping off in your ear, “Did you get my messages? Bucky and I are happy to stay in a hotel or something – called aerobean? Renting a house? I’m not really sure how that works.”

“It’s called airbnb, you fossil.” You respond off-handedly before catching yourself. “Stop, stop, why are you going to Cincinnati? And what about my parents?”

“You invited us. Are we leaving … today?”

Your face drains completely of color when it hits you— a nebulous and dizzying baseball bat swing to the temple. Last night crashes back into your mind: Steve, looking down, patting sympathetically. Two arms— turning you protectively until the room is sideways. You remember the way the blanket was tucked under your chin and around your shoulders.

“…Did you— did you t-tuck me in?” You ask hesitantly. Steve makes a negative grunt on the other line.

“Buck did that. He said he thought you’d get cold.”

“Oh…. Kay….” You whisper. “Uh. How set are you on Cinci?” You cross your fingers and hope he’ll back out purely based on how pathetic you sound. “It’s a ten-hour drive, dude. You guys okay with that?”

“Sure!” Steve chirps back. “We’ll take turns driving. Although Buck’s kind of a wheel-hog. Gets nervous when he’s not in charge.”

In the distance, you hear Bucky protest and it makes your mouth go dry.

“Uh. Okay. I usually leave early so… meet me here at six tomorrow.”

You hang up and bang the back of your head against the wall. The baseball bat of memory swings again.

You think you might faint because you start to recall last night: the metal hand lifting your head and placing the pillow under your hair. You even remember telling Bucky you loved him? It’s bewildering because you certainly do not love him. What was that thing that T-Pain said again? Your heart squeezes in your chest as you search around frantically for some scapegoat. Ah—yeah, T-Pain famously warbled: Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-cohol.

Your body flies over the outfield and into the bleachers before crashing. It’s the most agonizing homerun.

Steve, you think, is probably the one skipping past bases and winking. Somehow, this is all his damn fault.

—

Buckeye scoots around the back of your car, shifting so his weight lands primarily on the cushiony bed. His head is laid gently on Bucky’s thigh, who lost to rock paper scissors and must get squished in the backseat. Lucky for him, you pack lightly, and your legs are much shorter than Steve’s. Unlucky for you, that means he’s right behind you, radiating the heat of a thousand terrifying and silent suns.

It’s been thirty minutes since you started driving. Every time you look into the rear view, Bucky’s blue eyes look back. At this point, you have no idea if any cars are behind you because you will not let yourself look again.

“This is nice.” Steve says breezily, commenting on the silence. You had barely spoken to them when they arrived, instead busied yourself with playing Tetris with your luggage and theirs as well as the fabric box of Bucky’s--- BUCKEYE’s things. God damn it.

“Love it when it’s quiet. Nothing but the road and--” Steve continues.

“Oh, shut up!” You and Bucky reply in unison. You glare up into the mirror. Bucky glares right back. The embarrassment of last night snuffs itself out. Love? In this motherfucker’s dreams.

To your side, Steve stares out the window to hide his smirk.

—

The music of your so-called Driving Playlist bumps through the car speakers. You’ve been subjecting them to your chaotic tastes for the last hour. Every new song is jarring and different than the one before it. There’s Christmas carols. Frenetic Japanese electropop. Incredibly explicit gansta rap. Something else sounds like a broken harmonica for eight whole goddamn minutes. Inexplicable genres and band names. In the middle of a warbly bass line and shrieking synths, you explain that this track is from a “witch house" group you particularly enjoyed as a young girl.

The terms “witch house” and “young girl” so close together makes the both of them shudder. Steve is petrified at the end of each song because the next one always seems to be worse. Bucky squeezes his face between two fully stuffed bags and groans as loudly as he can.

--

You stop to get gas and Steve walks Buckeye around the perimeter of the station. Bucky comes out from the sliding doors holding three Gatorades and cold brew coffee.

“Drink up.” He commands, flinging a pink bottle at you. “My turn to drive.”

You shake the nozzle when it clicks off and roll your eyes. “No way.”

“You can’t even see over the steering wheel.” You flip him off and silently mock him, rolling your eyes and scrunching up your nose. Then, you replace the nozzle and head inside to use the restroom, flipping him off another time for good measure.

“Don’t! Even!” You threaten behind your shoulder. But of course, by the time you’re halfway to the door, he’s already slid in the driver’s seat.

—

The only way you would stop bitching is if Bucky let you pick the music. So, the cord remains faithfully attached to your phone. And that dreaded playlist.

---

An hour later, your leg bounces from the back, knocking your knee into Steve’s seat. You’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the last twenty minutes and you feel like a fucking water balloon, about to pop. Steve turns around, elbow on the center console and quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yessssss..” you could probably weep right now. No. No thinking of tears because tears are water. No fucking water.

“You’re shaking my seat pretty rough.” Steve accuses.

“You have to go again, don’t you? Jesus, what are you, four?” You’d think about how much you hate him but your bladder requires way more attention right now. This is the best posture you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your back is straight and you’re arching forward slightly—anything to relieve the pressure.

“I’m—- Ugh!” You shriek as the car runs over something and the entire thing rocks up, kicking a sharp jab into your lower abdomen. A wave of chills runs over your arms. “Oh no…” You whisper. Buckeye perks up and begins to sniff around, investigating your concern.

“Maybe I peed a little.” You admit sheepishly, squeezing your thighs together as well as your eyes.

“The next stop isn’t for another half hour…” Steve laments.

“Dirty Keanu Reeves over here gave me Gatorade!” You shake the bottle between them, 32 empty strawberry-flavored sugar-free ounces in all it’s glory. Even the wrapping has been peeled off. Steve sends the both of you a reproachful glare.

“I didn’t think she’d guzzle the whole damn thing!” He chooses to ignore your new nickname for him. He doesn’t even know who Keanu Reeves is. It’s a shame, really.

“Oh please stop arguing please pull over I swear I’ll piss in the forest I don’t care please.” Your words are running together like a waterfall. No. Not a waterfall. Oh god, you think, do not imagine any waterfalls. Bucky flips the blinker on and checks his blind spot before navigating to the right carefully. He puts on the hazards and stops your car—half on the emergency lane and half in the grass. Outside the window is about 200 feet of wildflowers before it turns dark with thick trees.

He turns and takes Steve’s place in-between the cloth seats. “There you are, princess. Pop a squat. Or stand. Just fucking hurry.”

“If I had a dick, Barnes, it would be way bigger than yours.” You push Bucky out of the way and wiggle until you can reach the glove compartment, elbowing Steve’s face in the process. There, your fingers yank a few tissues smushed into the corner of the dusty slot and you bolt. Oh sweet six-pound-and-four-ounces Jesus Christ you’ve never been so happy to piss in the woods.

Steve pats Bucky’s thigh as they watch you shred through the white and orange stalks, ripping a path through the peaceful country green. “Nah, Buck.” He smiles, “You’re pretty big.” Bucky slams the back of his head into the seat and lets out a long-suffering groan.

When you come back you fly into the car and moan happily. Bucky turns around to give you a snarky comment, but you hiss at him like an angry wildcat. “Saw a dead possum in the woods, man.” You say, “Looks just like you.”

—

Both you and Steve are asleep, along with the dog. It’s been a little over an hour now. The Captain reclines in the passenger seat, sunglasses on. You’re pitched over Buckeye, head resting on your splayed arm. The three orders of family-sized burger meals knocked you out first, then Steve. There’s hardly any room in the car for the enormous amount of trash that entailed, but you made do with the space next to your leg and stuffed the bag between you and the door.

Bucky slurps his coffee and drives in silence, frowning when the idea that he misses your bullshit finds him.

—

“God, can we listen to anything else?” Bucky grumbles when some mindless tune comes back on. You smile because Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is your goddamn jam. It’s the single best song to piss off any living person or animal and you embrace it whole-heartedly.

You let Steve browse the rest of your selection, waiting patiently for the inevitable—

“What is this?” He yelps. “Gay for Jesus?” His fingers continue to scroll, “What kind of playlist names are these? Sad n Sexy Santa? Who’s got the Biggest Dick in Baseball?” You’re cackling madly. It doesn’t stop there. “Fingerblast Fest of 2017?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky mutters.

“Made it for a lesbian couple. Anniversary present.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up with confusion and you enlighten him by leaning forward and thrusting two fingers back and forth so vigorously his seat shakes like an industrial-sized dryer set on high.

“Oh fuckin’ A!” He cries, jerking his head away from your hand. Steve turns red as a beet. “Okay, new rule...” he sighs, turning your phone over on his lap, “Do not ask about playlist names.”

--

Traffic has clogged up the highway. It’s deadlocked and immobile, stuck in the middle of a big city—all smog and industry. There’s not even good scenery to look at. You are buried in-between the pages of a book, taking advantage of the stillness by reading as much as you can. After this, you’ll have to brush up on your Latin, too. Then Greek. It’s annoying, but at least you don’t have to do another summer immersion program somewhere in bumfuck Florida this year.

A folky tune comes on and it’s a welcome reprieve. Bucky and Steve look up when you start humming along, voice coming out to follow the melody.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” Steve comments.

“Habeo multum talenta.” You reply—brain tuned to Latin. It makes them both wonder what else you can do.

--

Two hours left to go before the three of you reach your destination. You’ve switched out with Steve, who begrudgingly sits in the back, legs pushed up nearly to his chest while you stretch up front, cracking your back every which way. Bucky has refused to move from the driver’s side.

The music halts for a couple of hours while conversations meander. All sorts of subjects are breached now that there is nothing else to do but talk. The last two months of knowing them, although made you more comfortable, didn’t quite allow you to learn as much as this single car ride has. Most of what you could understand from them was made through your own observations, but now they are more or less open books.

Sometimes, the words hang heavy in the air— old, bulbous and dusty ornaments they polish for you. Steve talks about the war. Bucky does too. You have lots of questions on your end and they illuminate all of them with personal spotlights.

Sometimes, it returns to the playfulness you are used to.

Steve vomited on the cyclone. Bucky lost three dollars trying to win a bear for a girl. You tell him you blew through thirty-five dollars on a crane machine once (for yourself) and the two of you share a moment of solidarity together. Although, it’s hard for you to imagine him as some flirtatious young man and Steve can see it on your face.

“New gal every two weeks.” He informs.

“Were there even that many women in Brooklyn?” You gasp, scandalized.

“They came from all over to get a look at Buck.”

Bucky only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.

“What was wrong with them?” You whisper on-brand with your usual self, but the memory of his laughter by your front door glows rosy in your mind. Yeah, you can see how girls would get themselves in a tizzy for him. Winter Soldier with his mask on hardly turned heads as much as Captain Adonis America, but if you take a second to look at him, it’s easy to see how built he is. Like a Greek statue. Even his aura is enthralling—a bit secretive, a little dark. He could definitely use that to his advantage.

The smile grows into an almost feral grin—there's that aura, you think. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nearly growls.

You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with petting Buckeye because the pink crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.

--

Bucky pulls off the familiar highway, drives a distance down the curved road next to the river and you lean back, breathing in that familiar fishy and slightly sickly sewage air.

“Aw yeah. Welcome to Cincy.” You laugh. Steve ducks his head to watch the scene, squinting at billboards and watching houses whiz by.

“What’s Skyline Chili?” He asks as the car zooms by an advertisement. A questionable pile of shredded cheese overtakes the (apparently) chili and hot dog on the otherwise blue sign.

“Depending on your taste, either the best or worst thing you’ll ever eat.” The smile on your face widens when he furrows his brow. “Oh, my sweet summer child... you’re in for a treat.”

 Your neighborhood comes into view and you wistfully stare at the immaculate paved roads, manicured wide green lawns, blonde-haired moms pushing baby strollers, and dogs trailing behind them on loose leashes. Buckeye pads around as much as he can in the back, stepping over your lap repeatedly as he begins to recognize where he’s at.

“Pretty nice neighborhood.” Steve comments, making a slow turn. The GPS pulls him into a driveway leading up to your parent’s ranch-style home. They both whistle at the garden in bloom and the cobblestone path. You point him to pull around to the garage where your father’s Benz is parked. The old willow tree hangs over it, weeping petals and leaves on the windshield.

“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters at how the rosebushes and magnolia pots wrap even around the side and the back. The deck is littered with more flowers and potted plants. A stained glass table. Even the outdoor chairs have beautiful plush cushions. There seems to be a room underneath the slope of the yard—perhaps a basement transformed into a living space. Everything matches perfectly. “You do have money.”

You sigh.

“It’s not my money. It’s my parents’.” The scathing and bitter tone makes him frown, but you hop out anyway, slinging two bags over your shoulder and nudging Buckeye into the yard. Your dog happily pounces all over the greenery, chasing butterflies and barking.

“You sure they’re ok with this?” Steve asks carefully.

You nod, “There are lots of perks to being the prodigal son. Daughter, in my case.”

“Thought you had a dick.” Bucky sneers.

“Get with the times, old man. Gender is an illusion.”

—

The house is empty. You lead them through the front door and into the hall where it branches into three areas. There’s a railing and staircase that leads down, but for now they take in the sights on this floor. The first step points straight to the dining room where the table is already lined with china and perfectly arranged. Silk napkins. Crystal glasses. Delicately carved mahogany display cabinet.

On the right is the living space and kitchen where the color scheme turns to a pale aqua, cream, and gold accents. Two scooped leather seats face the flat screen, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. There is also a small couch and a seafoam armchair and matching ottoman. The coffee table is a gorgeous marble, flecked with gold.

They turn and look down the other way, noticing a large mirror entombed by a heavy decorated frame in between two doors. The walkway continues right and disappears even further down.

You stare at them. They stare back.

“Please don’t.” You beg, dropping your bags with a heavy sigh; this is why you didn’t want them coming. You hate it when people comment on your parents’ house. And they haven’t even seen the pool or tennis court. Or the downstairs living area with the grand piano your fingers nearly bled all over from countless hours of practice. Or the family oil painting you sat for when you were a kid. Fuck.

“I fucking hate it.” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Gaudy shit. Too big. This place haunted?”

You could leap into his arms if they weren’t carrying his bag and your dog’s stuff. Instead, you settle for a genuine smile, all warmth and radiance because you feel it in your heart—the appreciation for his understanding wrapped in snark. “Now we’re talking. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You guys can stay in my childhood bedroom.”

They finally drop their bags on the bay window seat in your old room after you unlock it. It’s always been like this— and you never let your parents come in. You open the middle of the window and let the room air out a little and the afternoon light pours in. Your old pictures are still on the shelves. Trophies. Music books. Your suede riding helmet, too. They wander around, peering at the images.

“Where are your parents?” Steve asks.

You shrug and plop down on the king-size bed out of habit, lying back with your legs dangling off the edge. Buckeye hops on with you and pads around a bit before he settles into a bagel-like swirl of a shape. “Ibiza. Dubai. Paris. Virgin Islands. Take your pick. My dad has property in all of them.” You message him anyway. You’re not surprised they’re gone for the summer. You don’t really come back for them; you mostly come back to get away from Manhattan.

“Wow.” Steve mutters.

“He even owns part of a mountain in Colorado. It’s vile. Historically, we’re from Ohio… ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel like a child again, and being in this space doesn’t help.

Steve examines the paintings in the room and flips through scattered books on the work desk. Bucky trails around your bookshelves, looking at the frames, picking some up here and there to examine what’s inside. “Who’s this?”

Peeking up you blow a pppffbbfbfbt breath of air out between your lips. It’s you, duh. Except your hair is perfectly curled and piled atop your head— a bird’s nest cushion for a sparkly tiara. Your eyes are piled heavily with so much eyeshadow and lash extensions it looks like an ombré spider web, and you’re wearing a low-cut dress swirling with rhinestones. Across your torso is a sash. Yep. Homecoming Queen. You’re pressed up against your date, all smiles, sharp cheeks, shoulders so thin he can see your skeleton jutting out. Over ten years ago, you were a much different person.

“Laugh it up, Barnes.” You mutter. “Thas ya girl, sweet sixteen, massively underweight, and aspiring to be the shiniest trophy wife of them all.”

“Why would I laugh?” He asks, suddenly solemn. Bucky turns to look at you, sprawled out on the bed, sardonic smile plastered to your face. “You don’t look very happy.” He still has the picture in his hand. Steve has paused, too, closing a heavy leather-bound first edition. Being caught in the middle of two concerned stares makes you heavy with anxiety and dread. Instead of spending another second under their gaze, you shoot up and motion for Buckeye to follow.

“Don’t be fucking weird, man.” Then, you’re already up the stairs.

Steve and Bucky glance at each other and Bucky places the picture back on the shelf.

—

In the downstairs living space next to their room, you pour three glasses of thirty-year-old single malt whiskey from the cabinet and plop down on the piano bench. The boys sit on the couch and regard you curiously as you open the cover and stare at the ivory keys. Your foot stomps on each of the paddles underneath vengefully. Then you tip your head back, whiskey along with it, and slam the cover shut with a trembling crash. “Fuck you, Mozart.” You whisper, as if the piano can hear.

--

You peek downstairs after your bath and call, “Hey! My parents use a water softener so if you feel slimy… it’s normal.” The whiskey has made you flush with excitement and volatile energy.

Steve’s head pops out from the bathroom doorway, neck and chest red from the heat. “Oh, thank God.” He says, “Buck’s been scrubbing for hours.”

“Who the fuck would do this!” Bucky’s voice echoes from the same tiled space. You can practically see it shooting out from the room behind Steve’s shoulder to crash into the adjacent wall like a comic panel.

The towel on top of your head slips and you attempt to grab it quickly, using your other hand to hold onto the knot around your chest. “You guys fucking in there?!”

Steve only grins and sends you a wink, mischievous expression catching you off guard. The towel tumbles down the stairs and your hair slaps itself over your face. The two of you watch the fluffy sheet spread over the bottom of the steps before staring at each other. “You gonna get that?” He asks.

“No.” You reply, abruptly mortified, “It’s yours now.”

Apparently, Steve Rogers has chosen this very moment to make it known that partners is not only platonic in meaning. You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, because you’ve been harassing them for months about who’s a bottom (you bet all four limbs it’s Bucky), but suddenly the moment is confronting you and all you can do is think about how you’re naked and third-wheeling … in your own damn home. And that maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.

Captain America rubs the tip of his nose absentmindedly, “You alright?” There is genuine concern in his eyes as he steps out of the doorway and reveals his –NAKED! NAKED!

“No!” You scream, turning your head and hiding behind your outstretched hand. “No! Don’t! You fucking stay there you—Fucking A, Steve!”

He’s not really naked; he’s wrapped hip-down in a towel, but you don’t even want to see the outline of him. As far as you know, he’s a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. Maybe Bucky has like, three dicks. There is so much panic inside of you right now.

The water stops from the shower and rustling is heard as Bucky dries off. You attempt to slowly back up away from the steps and move back into the confines of your own room until your dog springs past you like a loose cannonball and sails downstairs. He banks left into the bathroom and licks a stripe over Steve’s shin before finding his true target: Bucky.

There is tumbling, banging, wincing from you and Steve as Buckeye clobbers his human doppelganger once more. Then, there is yelling and cussing—Steve, moving inside to help, but then more crashing follows before Buckeye tears from the bathroom and up the stairs with two towels clenched tightly in his mouth.

“No…” You whisper, when he drops them at your feet. His tongue flops against his chin and he looks up expectantly, as if you might reward him for his endeavor. Steve’s head peeks out again, and the wry smile he sends your way says: you’re fucked.

Next Chapter

[lilcutieana]

SAFE HAVEN 5 ( Hybrid Baby Bangtan/ ot7 )

Words: 4.3K Genre: Hybrid! BTS AU Rating: PG-13 Summary: Birthdays and Celebrations. The september babies deserve the world <3

Safe Haven ~ || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

═══════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

I’d spent most of life in silence. Neither pleasant nor comfortable. I used to be pretty sure they never existed until a few months back when I decided to adopt the seven hybrid kids who’d changed my life for the better. I used to think the world was a dark place and I just had to survive somehow until the inevitable happened— my death. Yes, I used to be pretty morbid and cynical. Sue me.

But now? I tried my best not to be. Because I knew how tiring it was to be and how it affected my life negatively. I’d lost contact with my parents, and honestly? I didn’t bother contacting them. Were they worth it? Yes. They were. But I wasn’t. Not until I got my shit together—somewhat.

Silence used to choke me up at night, or day, or during storms—when the silence became too loud to bear. It terrified me, but also comforted me at times. I liked being alone, I liked to not be bothered with. It gave me a sense of freedom.

But now? With a house full of kids?

Silence meant something was horribly suspicious or horribly wrong. The house was always lively, someone or the other talking, playing, reading or just even the sound of their tails whipping against something. But complete silence? Meant they had got into some kind of trouble.

Closing my eyes, I counted to ten, trying not to react in a bad way if something did happen. I’d had enough to deal with all day, anyway. From getting the felines vaccinated to dealing with a whole new wardrobe for Jungkook—the boy was growing too fast out of his own clothes—which was a good thing, but not so good for my bank balance and then I had to face the music when the legal agents called explaining how—I, wasn’t an appropriate guardian—me.

So what?

I was trying my best to be here. Sure, the kids couldn’t have the appropriate environment to live—the ideal utopia—but was it ever possible except maybe in theories? Every household has problems, and, I was quite sure—the alternative wouldn’t be as fun for them either.

Wish I could say all that to their face when they called, but unfortunately, all I could do was mutter—I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better—and hung up. And right now—I was seething inside, trying not to throw things against the wall.

I was hurt.

How could someone just assume my home isn’t a place to have kids when I try my best to stay with them, accommodate to their needs and teach them how to stay together and solve things together instead of making differences and learning prejudices? They chose me. I never forced them. Then why?

I was confused.

And I didn’t like feeling this way. The way my throat clogged up every time I tried to find ways to explain how I was the best choice. But was I really? To seven children? I didn’t even earn enough. School, college, medicine, grooming—raising one child takes a toll on people, and I had taken up seven. All on my own—without any help.

I wasn’t regretting anything. I knew we could make everything work out. But, wouldn’t that be unfair to them? The more I thought about it—the more rational they sounded. And I hated it. I hated feeling this way.

I was startled out of my cleaning spree when a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders as I was sitting on the floor. Everything I’d been trying to hold back, rushed in all at once. The anger, the hurt, the frustration, and the helplessness. Choking back a sob, I turned around and held onto his shirt and he held me tighter.

I could tell just from his height and scent, he was Jin. The eldest and the most sensitive of all. He must have sensed my distress and came to check up on me. I failed even in trying not to show that I was weak and incapable. I truly am not worth enough.

Clutching on tighter to him, I tried so hard not to cry out loud, but the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. I let my tears be soaked onto his shirt, and -- bless his soul, he never once complained-- all the while holding onto me and patting my back –albeit awkwardly.

“Y/N, we love you. You know that right?” He whispered by my ear and I laughed out loud. Never had I imagined him to say those words first thing while trying to comfort me.

Not his usual— ‘don’t cry’, ‘don’t be sad’. No.

Instead, he chose to tell me he loved me. Remind me again why we were together.

And of course, not because it was the one thing I needed to hear, no. I was right to assume something must have happened, and this was his way to apologize. I wonder how he became the scapegoat this time. Not much to wonder, he was bad at the rock, paper, scissors. The young ones knew just how to get their eldest to lose.

And yet, while I knew why he said that, my heart did a little dance inside. That’s right. Why was doubting myself in the first place? We loved each other. We cared for each other. We’d rather be miserable together than to prosper alone.

Wiping my eyes, I sniffed. “I love you too. So much.” Kissing his crown, I smiled when he cringed and scrunched up his nose. His tail spiked and ears pulled back. He never liked being treated like a kid. Though, along with Jimin, he most certainly loved being praised.

“Um… you see.” He started, scratching his neck, “We found your albums, and Jimin now wants one for all of us. To make new memories.”

“That’s a good idea! We have been taking so many pictures, I’ll print them out soon.” I smiled back at him. It really was a good idea to have some printed. Maybe I’ll decorate the living room with a huge poster of all of us together too.

“That’s not everything.” Jin frowned, biting his lips and swaying on the balls of his feet. “We tried looking for more albums, and Hobi found our medical reports.”

“Oh? What about them?” I asked tentatively. This wasn’t going to be good, was it? He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again, this time with a smile.

“All of them said--we were growing healthy. Thank you.” Heaving a sigh, I picked up the duster from the floor and got up on my feet again. Wobbling a bit, I held onto his shoulders to stand straight, my legs dead from sitting on them too long.

“Just that?” I asked then, suspicious. He wouldn’t have looked so nervous earlier just to mention a good news. Shaking his head, shoulders slumped in defeat, he looked back up at me with doe eyes.

“Jungkook and Namjoon’s birthdays are close. We were hoping to do something special. But you’re sad and angry and I don’t want you to feel bad for forgetting.”

Oh. It had really slipped my mind.

“Actually, you’re amazing, Jin!” I ruffled his hair and he averted his eyes, his human ears flushing a bright pink. “It’s Jungkook’s birthday tomorrow and Namjoon’s should be two weeks later.” Musing aloud, I leaned against the couch. “Do they know?”

Jin nodded, biting his lips. “Do I get a cake then? A strawberry one?” Jungkook whisper shouted from the door and immediately got shushed by the others. Jin sighed with his eyes closed, slapping his forehead.

“I forgot they followed me,” He looked up at me, his eyes wide-set and watery.

Oh.

They all saw me break down a few minutes before. I just hope they didn’t think they were the reason behind it. It was just me being weak. “It’s okay. We don’t keep secrets.”

“Yes, Jungkook!” I spoke a little louder, looking at their shadows hunched behind the door, “We will bake cakes and go for camping.”

And the silence was gone.

The whole house erupted in loud cheers, lively and happy once again. My heart was at ease, for now.

“Noona! Guess what?” Yoongi came bounding towards me, his ears perked up and eyes glowing. He must have found something really cute. Being very observant and quiet, he almost never spoke louder than any of us, and for him to scream like this, only meant two things— either he found something cute or something he wants to do.

“You found a cute squirrel by the window?” I asked, with both my hands balled under my chin, while I sat beside Jin. The other boys following close behind.

Shaking his head, he walked towards me and I looked at him confused. Usually, he never cuddled me unless it was bedtime. Guess it was too exciting to share from far away. Holding your wrists in his tiny hands, he gently removes them from under my chin and places them beside my lap, his very next target being my knees as they’re pulled apart making space for him on my lap.

Plopping down, he gets up again as he sat on his tail and maneuvers it around me, wrapping it halfway around my waist, he hums in approval. Leaning back, he smiles at me mischievously—two of his lower canines missing—he is the epitome of adorable. But I won’t admit to that—because then it will become a competition.

“I was napping before they woke me.” Glaring at Hoseok, he turned back to me, again with a bright smile. Weird. Yoongi loved his sleep. If any of them woke him—he shouldn’t be happy. Instead—he’d be grumpy and pouty.

“You want to sleep some more?” I asked tentatively, hoping it doesn’t offend him.

“No, Y/N. I had a beautiful dream! I was a rapper, you know?” He asked, shaking my forearm.

“Really? Was I there?”

“Yes! And everyone was there! Jin hyung sang so beautifully too. We all sang and danced and performed in this…” Opening his hands as far as they could reach, he looked at everyone in the eye, “Huge stadium, the crowds were screaming our names and dancing, and noona was on stage too. Cheering us from behind. And it was so… beautiful.” He finished, his eyes on the ceiling as if he was still reeling from the performance and the crowd.

I would be too. If I had a dream like that. Where I’m doing what I love. He liked singing, he liked the piano, and he also liked rapping along to artists on TV. I didn’t know he dreamt of performing live. If that was what he wanted… then that was what I’ll try to make happen.

“Really? What did I do?” Namjoon asked intrigued. “I’m good at memorizing. Must be related.”

“I think you were our team leader. You rapped so well…” Yoongi’s ears perked over his head just thinking about it. I was proud of them, all of them. Even if they didn’t know what they wanted to be—they weren’t afraid to try out new things.

“Me? Rap?” Namjoon asked confused, his head tilted sideways. “I do write poems though…” Just as he spoke aloud, his eyes widened and his ears went flat on top of his head. Immediately he covered his lips with both hands and looked at everyone looking back at him equally shocked. Well, he was always reading and writing things. It was fairly possible for him to actually write some creative things.

“That’s wonderful! Let me know if you need me to help with something.” I told him confidently, scratching along Yoongi’s ears. They were just so soft, and silky.

“So…. Anything else you remember from the dream?” I asked Yoongi, only to see him sound asleep once again on my lap—purring softly. Smiling to myself, I leaned back a bit, my back supported by the living room couch, making it more comfortable for him to sleep, resting his head on my chest. I had noticed, the boys liked to either listen to my heartbeat or sniff around my neck and wrists. It made them feel secure and happy. And, who was I to stop them, it made me double as happy knowing I was a source of comfort for them.

“About the birthdays— “I started, looking at everyone.” Come closer, I don’t want to speak too loud.” Patting the space beside me, I waited for them to form a circle around me. 

“Did you have any plans besides the cake?” I whispered, knowing all too well they could hear me loud and clear. Yoongi’s ears twitched under my chin and I immediately pulled my face away from him.

“Games!” Jungkook and Taehyung said at the same time, “Jinx!” Taehyung said next, making Jungkook scrunch his nose in confusion as the tiger pinched his shoulder right after.

“Racing games” Hoseok whisper-shouted, his eyes large and excited. “I saw people play outside this shop. It goes vroom, vroom…” He started making engine noises with his lips and I busted out laughing. He was just too adorable.

Yoongi jumped in my arms groaning. “What happened, again?” His voice somehow sounded deeper, and scratchy, his pupils blown wide and eyes swollen.

“I’m sorry, Seokie, TaeTae, Gukkie want to go to the arcade. Go sleep, I’ll wake you later for dinner, okay?” Nodding, he stood up, rubbing his left eye with his tiny fist. Bending down, he kissed my nose and with a little smile on his lips, walked to the stairs—leaving us all shocked.

“Well, seems hyung is growing up.” Jin mused from beside me, and I glared right back at him.

“He’s just happy today.” Biting my lips, I looked back at Jungkook, “Probably.”

“I want to go arcade too!” Jimin exclaimed, looking at Namjoon for confirmation.

“Sure” Both Joon and Jin replied, chuckling.

“What about you, Joonie? Your birthday is on Wednesday.” I asked, mentally counting the days. It was….right?

“I don’t like sour things or seafood.” He scrunched his nose up, his tail thumping behind him like a drum. “I want to go back to the woods. Roam around, feel the fresh air—I miss living in nature.” He lamented looking at his fingers on his lap.

He then realized where he was speaking, and looked up suddenly, his mouth half open, tail completely still, “I don’t mean we…”

“It’s okay Joonie, I need you all, to be honest with me, and each-other” I cut him off, smiling warmly and he nodded, his tail regaining its regular thumping—just faster. “So, how do you all feel about camping out in the woods? There should be a meteor shower around then too.” 

“Oh my God!” Namjoon exclaimed and stood up, holding onto his head with his jaw unhinged and eyes bulging out. “Really? Can we? Is it okay?”

As I nodded back, he screamed and ran towards me, tackling me onto the ground. “Y/N I don’t…” chocking up, he buried his face into my neck, breathing in and sniffled. “How can I ever repay you?”

Brushing his hair, I patted his head as he kept clinging onto me. “It’s okay, as long as you’re all happy, you’ve repaid me a thousand times over than what I can ever do for you.”

“Metor showah?” Jungkook asked right after, making everyone laugh at his innocence,“Do we wash the car?” making everyone laugh at his innocence. 

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Standing right outside the mart, hands full of bags of different sizes and shapes, I stared at the list we all compiled in a hurry. A total hundred and fifty items—that wasn’t the goal, but it just turned out that way.

Jungkook had wanted to invite his tutor and so did Namjoon. Somehow, they’d bonded over the summer and with school starting soon—they’d wanted to spend their first birthday with the people the really admired. Along with a few kids they’d made friends with while living by themselves.

I’d invited a few of them—hoping they’d all get along in the little birthday party I’d set up.

“Noona, we forgot candles!” The tiger screeches, mentally counting important things. And, I realized, indeed—we had forgotten the little candles. All eleven of them—four for Jungkook and seven for Namjoon. How could I forget the most basic of things?

“Wait here. All of you. I’ll go get them real quick” Dropping the bags on the ground, I picked my handbag out of the mess and sprinted across the parking lot back into the mart entrance.

All packed, and buckled, I started driving back home. “Boys, do you think we forgot something?” I asked again—there was this nagging feeling in my heart that something was missing. Well, we can do without a few things in life. Not everything had to be perfect. Some things—were better heartfelt.

“Nope!” Yoongi exclaimed from the back, counting the white cars on the road.

“Aren’t we getting them presents?” Jin asked, his head resting on his palm supported at the window. And there it was—the thing I’d overlooked.

“We’d win them at the arcade tomorrow. How about it?” I asked, without looking back at them. Even though the traffic was the bare minimum, I didn’t want to take the risk.

“Sure. I’m good at winning.” Hoseok declared, his voice sounding proud and happy.

“About the cake. I think we have a lot of cake mix. Should we make more than one—since we have guests now too.”

“Yeah!” They all chorused together in perfect sync. When it came to food and games—the boys always had full energy. But when it came to cleaning—they looked at everyone else for help.

“Okay. How about I bake seven cupcakes and a big cake. And decorate the cake for cutting it in the evening and we all decorate a cupcake each? That could also be our little present to the boys. And handmade greeting cards?” I asked, the ideas streaming into my mind one after another.

I did buy them plenty of art supplies last month—surely they could make as much. Of course, I’d help in the process too. Not to mention it would keep them busy as I decorated the house.

I’d also reconciled with Somin last week, and she was invited. She did want to help the boys—her intentions were good – just her approach wasn’t. I knew that, and yet, seeing the boys—I just couldn’t help my protective instinct and immediately took offense.

But I was really happy that she accepted my apology and now even though we weren’t the best of friends—we somehow were working towards building our bond back up again. And that was okay. As long as we both tried our best.

As long as she respected my family—the boys—who were the most precious to me.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Waking up at four in the morning, wasn’t a good feeling. At all. I felt groggy and wanted to just go back to sleep and cuddle and the boys. Instead, I gave up the magnetic pull and made it to the shower, another pair of feet following me.

Whoever it was, needed to wait to pee—cause I needed to wake up and fast. The day was going to be a busy one. First off—breakfast in bed, a trip to the arcade, stopping by at their favorite coffee shop and coming back home to prepare for the party in the evening.

Oh…and bills. So many bills. It was the first of the month—and I liked them paid early—before I forgot and things got taken away. It did happen once before and surviving without water and electricity wasn’t a good experience. I swore I’d never go through it, ever again.

As I got out of the shower half an hour later—with just the robe and a towel wrapped around my head like a sheep, I looked around the hallway suspiciously.

I was pretty sure someone followed behind me. Then why did nobody knock?

The cakes….

We baked cakes and cupcakes last night and I didn’t allow them to taste the frosting or sprinkles one bit. A sugar high was not something I was looking forward to right before bed. It made the boys too energetic and a giggly mess.

Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I saw the lights on and internally rolled my eyes. If it was anyone other than Jungkook, they were really in for a major punishment.

“Oh! Noona.” Taehyung exclaimed loudly from the entrance, where he was keeping an eye on. “You showered so late—we got hungry and came here.”

“Who are you hiding?” I asked glaring at his sheepish figure, blushing a bright pink and chubby cheeks smiling bashfully. His eyes bulged out, tail swishing behind him slowly as he tried escaping from the situation.

“Oh! We weren’t hiding, Noona.” Jimin came from behind, a clear patch of icing on his left cheek and plump lips red with strawberry juice, holding onto Jungkook’s hand who was busy licking his fingers clean from frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

Sighing, I gave up on their punishment. They were just too cute together. I’ll just have them do more chores instead.

“Fine, fine. I’ll take your word for it.” I nodded, with my arms crossed over my chest. “Come to help me make breakfast then.”

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

“Seokie, bring two more sprite bottles for the lemonade here, please.” I called out to Hoseok as I stirred the half empty lemonade bowl.

“Right away, Y/N” He called out and ran, zig-zagging between his other friends he knew from before.

“Quick! Take it… it’s cold” Jin whisper shouted right behind me, making me drop the ladle onto the bowl in surprise. Turning around, I took the ice trays from his hands and watched amused as he shook them to warm them up. Dropping the ice into the bowl, I set aside the trays.

“Here,” Holding onto his palms, I brought them to my cheeks, effectively waking myself up and warming his hands at the same time. Wow… it felt so good.

Giggling, he leaned down and pecked my eye lids, smiling down on me. “You’re looking so pretty today, Y/N”

“Thank you.” Letting go of his hands, I brushed my fringe back and looked around the room at Jungkook and Jimin who were chasing each other wearing their party hats.

“They’re all so happy.” Jin whispered, looking at the kids fondly.

“They really are, and so am I.” Getting up, I looked back at him. “Don’t drink too much, you’ll have to pee frequently then.”

Laughing out loud, he pointed at Taehyung who was already skipping near the closed bathroom door, clutching at his groin. Poor boy.

Shrugging, I went to the kitchen to bring out the cakes. It was time. Everyone was here, playing games, having the time of their lives—but the boys were tired. And they needed to sleep early as school would start for Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok and Namjoon. The rest would start next year.

The morning was absolutely chaotic. We were being so loud and competitive—won so many things at the arcade, that we were finally kicked out. Though, admittedly, I don’t regret it one bit. It was so much fun. Then I got us nerf guns and chased the boys all around the park until the Sun was high up in the sky.

While hiding, Yoongi made friends with some stray cats and Jungkook was mesmerized by the many butterflies that hovered over the flowers.

Namjoon was curious about bubbles and I got us those huge hoops and a tub. We spent most of the afternoon making huge bubbles and popping them. It was a fun day.

Taehyung and Jimin took so many photos—that I’d lost count by now. They’d always sneak in pictures of me while taking pictures of the boys or their surroundings. I’d have to get them all printed and set neatly in an album. Jungkook’s Fourth Birthday.

And now, here we were—a full day eating and playing outside later. All exhausted, yet happiest we’ve ever been. Decorating the whole house and entertaining the guests.

“Let me help you carry the large cake.” Namjoon came in, looking all cute and handsome with the black and red jacket over white shirt and black jeans, hair slicked back and dimples out.

“Sure. Thanks, Joonie.” Holding onto one side and him supporting the other, we walked back sideways to the living room. Everyone was so quiet with the lights dimmed as they waited for the carrot cake in the shape of a heart. Don’t ask. It was Jungkook’s request last evening.

“Seokie, bring two more sprite bottles for the lemonade here, please.” I called out to Hoseok as I stirred the half empty lemonade bowl.

“Right away, Y/N” He called out and ran, zig-zagging between his other friends he knew from before.

“Quick! Take it… it’s cold” Jin whisper shouted right behind me, making me drop the ladle onto the bowl in surprise. Turning around, I took the ice trays from his hands and watched amused as he shook them to warm them up. Dropping the ice into the bowl, I set aside the trays.

“Here,” Holding onto his palms, I brought them to my cheeks, effectively waking myself up and warming his hands at the same time. Wow… it felt so good.

Giggling, he leaned down and pecked my eye lids, smiling down on me. “You’re looking so pretty today, Y/N”

“Thank you.” Letting go of his hands, I brushed my fringe back and looked around the room at Jungkook and Jimin who were chasing each other wearing their party hats.

“They’re all so happy.” Jin whispered, looking at the kids fondly.

“They really are, and so am I.” Getting up, I looked back at him. “Don’t drink too much, you’ll have to pee frequently then.”

Laughing out loud, he pointed at Taehyung who was already skipping near the closed bathroom door, clutching at his groin. Poor boy.

Shrugging, I went to the kitchen to bring out the cakes. It was time. Everyone was here, playing games, having the time of their lives—but the boys were tired. And they needed to sleep early as school would start for Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok and Namjoon. The rest would start next year.

The morning was absolutely chaotic. We were being so loud and competitive—won so many things at the arcade, which we were finally kicked out from. Though, admittedly, I don’t regret it one bit. It was so much fun. Then I got us nerf guns and chased the boys all around the park until the Sun was high up in the sky.

While hiding, Yoongi made friends with some stray cats and Jungkook was mesmerized by the many butterflies that hovered over the flowers.

Namjoon was curious about bubbles and I got us those huge hoops and a tub. We spent most of the afternoon making huge bubbles and popping them. It was a fun day.

Taehyung and Jimin took so many photos—that I’d lost count by now. They’d always sneak in pictures of me while taking pictures of the boys or their surroundings. I’d have to get them all printed and set neatly in an album. Jungkook’s Fourth Birthday.

And now, here we were—a full day eating and playing outside later. All exhausted, yet happiest we’ve ever been. Decorating the whole house and entertaining the guests.

“Let me help you carry the large cake.” Namjoon came in, looking all cute and handsome with the black and red jacket over white shirt and black jeans, hair slicked back and dimples out.

“Sure. Thanks, Joonie.” Holding onto one side and him supporting the other, we walked back sideways to the living room. Everyone was so quiet with the lights dimmed as they waited for the carrot cake in the shape of a heart. Don’t ask. It was Jungkook’s request last evening.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Jungkook,

Happy birthday to you !!

I almost cried when I saw him tear up, overwhelmed from all the attention and hide his face away by dragging his bunny ears over his eyes. Rushing forward, I prompted him to blow the candles.

“Make a wish! Make a wish!” Taehyung prompted from beside him, his hands opening and closing as he restrained himself from doing that instead.

Closing his eyes, Jungkook mumbled something and blew the candles all in one go. Well, there were only four of them—and smiled so big. I was so proud of him. Handing him the plastic knife, I watched as he made a thin slice and as I hoped—for him to feed Jin—as he was his favorite hyung. Instead, he ate the slice himself, making everyone chuckle. Well, it was expected, he loved the taste of it too much to share.

“Happy birthday Jungkook-ah” I ruffled his hair as he licked his lips, not missing even one drop of the strawberry icing we made together last night.

“Mmph”

Safe Haven ~ || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

 Tagged ~

@dreadity  @im-emo-motherfuckers @xanny91 @oyasumi7@blackmaylovesfries   @catkiecookie @noonaofkookie  @thenyousaidhello  @silveroccamy  @stargazingmoonchild  @where-karina-gets-lost

[ayy-jayy-siciliani]

AJ + Lydia || Therapy

When: Late February 2021 

Where: AJ’s therapist’s office, Downtown Santa Monica

Major Warnings: Mental Health / Mental Illness, Suggestive comments (lmao I mean come on)

Featuring: Lydia Belmonte @lydiabelmonte

It was that time of the week again in which AJ would go to therapy right after working out and then he'd head home or go swing by to bug Lydia. He didn't tell her about therapy yet, mostly because it seemed like whenever he talked about going to therapy, there was always an awkward or weird reaction and then he'd have to mention the fact that he experienced trauma. Sunny, happy-go-lucky AJ going through trauma was unheard of, so, he decided not to mention it. Except today, he was surprised when Lydia asked to meet up, and as a quick scapegoat, he said he'd swing by Lola's to check up on her. On the one hand, her apartment was right next door to the building, on the other hand, he hated lying, but figured today he'd at least tell her the truth after the fact. However, upon leaving his session...he'd have to blurt it out fast when he saw Lydia standing in the lobby. "Lydia, hey. What're you...doing here?" He asked carefully.

lydia b.

Lydia was starting to find AJ being sketchy as of lately, she tried her hardest to trust him, but she was only human and the bugging voice in her head whispering that he was cheating on her, with a troublesome past relationships and the way her parents were, Lydia found herself going to the place AJ went. As she entered and looked around the office to see AJ come out and she raised her eyebrows before turning back around to outside. she couldn’t decide what hurt more, the fact AJ didn’t feel comfortable telling her about this or the fact he lied to her.

AJ could feel his stomach drop at Lydia's expression, between that and the way she turned to head outside, he knew today was going to be a day. Instead of making a scene, he followed after her until he knew he could catch up and block her off. Once he got to that point, he sprinted, stood in front of her and said, "Just--hear me out for a sec, okay?" He breathed out. "My mental health, isn't the best like everyone perceives it to be. I got my own demons to battle and, I don't want to burden you with all that. I know I shouldn't have lied in that moment, but I was going to tell you, don't think I wasn't. If you don't believe me, here," He handed over his navy blue journal. "That's why the top drawer's locked. I'm not cheating on you."

lydia b.

Lydia should have figured that AJ would run after her, he wasn’t anything like her last boyfriend where they’d ignore each other until one of them caved in. She knew she was still getting used to this new healthy coping but sometimes like this, facing things head on always made her fight or flight kick in. “I don’t want to read your journal Anthony, the fact you lied to me—you didn’t trust me enough to know that you’re seeing a therapist,” she snapped pushing the journal back onto his chest, “you know how I feel about liars—I thought you were cheating, you know how ready I was to catch you in the act, figure out plans on to avoid getting my heart broken?” She tried to side step them, wanting to get out of the public’s eyes and perhaps not see the look he was giving her, that would make her cave in easily.

This was not going to be an easy fight knowing very damn well how Lydia's temper was and...AJ's was completely shut off for the most part. "I do trust you, but I wasn't ready to tell you yet because it's not as easy as it seems," He sighed, shaking his head. When the journal was shoved back into his chest, he could already feel his heart sinking even more. This was such a shitty feeling. "Why would I cheat on you, Lydia? After everything, why would I throw that away? I care about you, I don't want to hurt you and I was just protecting you for a little bit longer from learning about all the dark and sad shit cause--you've been so happy and that's all I want to see you, is happy. I hate that I lied, okay? I'm sorry," He called out. He knew that they were in public and even though there was no one around, last thing he wanted was this to escalate to Gossip God. "Lydia, can we, just talk it out in the car, please?"

lydia b.

“Protecting me from what? If you haven’t noticed I don’t come from a good home and I sure as hell don’t expect my life to turn into a damn fairytale over night.” Lydia looked at AJ, staring at him in silence, she didn’t want to talk things out, she wanted to run, gather her thoughts quietly to herself and curl up in her bed. But that wasn’t the case for this moment, she could feel her old self wanting to push him, rile something up inside him, make the worse of himself come out. Maybe she wasn’t ever going to get over her toxic ways, at this point she didn’t know whether to accept it or not. “No...I don’t want to talk it out in a car, you can get in the car and I’ll catch a Lyft.”

"Neither did I!" AJ fired back, feeling the frustration rise in his chest. It was the first time he didn't bounce around the talk about family nor sugar coat the situation. "I'm protecting you from the not so good parts of me and you might not understand, but I didn't come from the most happiest home either. Not til much later. It's why I'd rather talk shit out than let it fester because I'm busting my ass off to not wind up like my dad, who hurt my mom, my sisters, and me," He began to choke out and cleared his throat. "Least I can do is wait for the Lyft to get here to know you're safe. You don't have to say anything else. I get it."

lydia b.

Lydia didn’t know much about AJ or his family, other than the fact that his dad wasn’t around and they all had their own ways of coping with the loss of a father figure. She understood that, except with her mother, which was probably why she didn’t have good mother instincts or whatever the reason she was the way she was. She silently turned her gaze away from him and looked down at their feet, clenching and unclenching her hands on the sides of her body, breathing out. “where’s your car.”

AJ hoped there was a sliver of understanding with Lydia, even though their situations were different, they were both raised by single parents and their grandparents, at least that was what they had in common. It was AJ's true story after all, he just left out the part of his dad, for good reason. He had to learn to cope. "This way," AJ quietly said as he motioned towards the navy blue jeep that was a few cars down.

lydia b.

Lydia didn’t want to follow Aj, she wanted to walk past him and make her way to the nearest bar to throw back a few shots. But the fact she was trying to make things work was rather hard especially with what she was used too. She didn’t utter another word as she followed after him towards the car, crossing her arms over her chest and chewed the inside of her cheek as she walked to the passenger side door, waiting until he opened it and got inside to look straight ahead in silence.

The walk to the car was a painfully silent one. It was a walk in which AJ fought the tears that threatened to fall. He tried focusing on his footsteps and his breathing, even just the most ragged of breaths could upset the calm before the storm and cause it to rage before they even made it to the car. When they made it, he opened the car door for her and then hopped into the driver's side and took a breath. "I go to therapy every Wednesday after the gym. Lola knows, Ivy...not so much. We don't talk about what happened with our dad, but we all have our scars. Some of us physical, but mostly emotional. I get nightmares every now and again. I don't know how to properly express negative emotion except by running and if I can't run, I pace my room and don't sleep."

lydia b.

she didn’t expect their conversation to end up like this, she didn’t want to pressure AJ into telling her about his dad when he wasn’t ready. Yet it appeared her anger got the best of her as she stayed silent and let him continue talking. Lydia wanted to reach over and comfort him, but she wanted to hear more, wanted to know more about AJs life, learn more about him that he doesn’t show in front of her.

It was a hard conversation that needed to be had, even though AJ wished that things weren't so tense so it'd be easier for him to open up, but here he was, staring blankly at his hands that would grip and release the steering wheel each and every time to get him to feel something and keep him centered. "I protected my mom and my sisters, a lot from him. I'd cause distractions to buy Ivy time to get Lola and hide. I'd jump in front of my mom so he wouldn't hit her, it's why I got the scar on my chin, actually. I tell magazines and reporters it was from a bike," He chuckled lightly and took a breath. "I don't share this side because it's a side that I need to learn to cope with first, above all else. I get scared to get angry because I've seen that man angry and...I don't want that for myself, for the people I care about. I don't want to be a monster. That's why I come here, every Wednesday. Learn healthy coping mechanisms, talk about life."

lydia b.

AJ opening a whole new can of worms and confession had her looking at him, her dark eyes widen at the news, the fact him and his sisters had to deal with along with his mom. It was no wonder he didn’t get upset when she tried to push him to get upset, she started to feel guilty for how she continued pushing him out of the comfort zone he was in while as she knew he was trying and she needed to try as well. Lydia knew therapy was good for some people, she just wasn’t one of those people due to being put in therapy at eight years old due to her parents decision. “Anything else?” She asked softly, her eyes looking at the side of his face before looking back outside.

"That's um...pretty much it," AJ responded just as softly. It was for the first time, in a very long time, he had felt vulnerable. None of his past exes knew about the darker side of his family life, none of his friends knew. It was always something kept within the family, aside his therapist. So now, he could feel the anxiety surge through him. He couldn't even turn to look at Lydia, afraid of how she might react. All he could do was focus on his breathing at the present moment and now the rushing thoughts in his mind, or the guilt that continued to eat at him.

lydia b.

Lydia nodded her head quietly, the silence in the car deafening, mostly her just processing the man she assumed she knew just came out of the shell he tried to perfect into seeming unhurt by anything. Lydia was starting to realize that she didn’t deserve AJ, he deserved someone who would love him and be that shiny person with a good heart, which she didn’t have or at least she believed she didn’t. “I think we should break up,” she said, maybe it was cruel for her to utter those words in a moment like this but she wanted to see something, be a bully but other than that, she would come clean and pull him into a hug.

AJ hated the silence in the car but he had nothing else to say from there on out. Mostly because it was him trying to gather his thoughts together, trying to keep from suffocating in his own mind. It was hard, opening up to someone like Lydia, who was already hurt by the world, but remained tall and managed to work her way through it the best way she knew how. That was what he admired about her, after all. Except...when he heard the words that came out of her mouth next, it was like a punch to the gut. He felt the tears coming on, but still kept a blank face and didn't turn to her when he said, "If...you think that's what's best for you, I wont stop you," He breathed out, trying to steady his voice as best as he could.

lydia b.

Lydia wasn’t sure what to expect, but his words, she wasn’t expecting one bit. She thought he would at least try and convince her not too, not agreeing willingly. “Just like that...you won’t even fight for us?” Lydia turned to face him fully, her heart squeezing at the fact he probably was hurting and yet here she was adding salt to the wound.

AJ's mind was wracking through the countless hours of therapy now of how to properly react when someone hurts you as he tried to even out his breathing. Even one wrong breath and he'd be a mess of tears and humiliate himself even further. "You wanted to know everything and you're...dumping me. I don't know what else you want me to say. I can't really...force you to stay, you know?"

lydia b.

Lydia stared at AJ, gaping at the fact he so easily waved his white flag, it annoyed her but another part of her enjoyed that side of him. Lydia reached forward and grabbed his chin, pulling his face to hers, staring him in his eyes, “you’re an idiot, you really think I would end things because of a sad past? I’m sorry that your father did that to your family, sorry that you had to lie to me about seeing a therapist—theres nothing wrong with that, it’s actually healthy, and most of all....I love you.”

AJ was caught off guard when Lydia pulled his face to look her in the eyes. "That's not funny or okay to do, Lydia--" He began to scold Lydia for the cruel joke but paused and took a breath to hear her out. At Lydia's apology and love confession he blinked at her for a second. Now he really thought he was being punk'd. "Lydia, seriously--that's not something to play with. I mean, I appreciate the apology but...don't just say that because I'm down."

lydia b.

Lydia wondered if it was the good time to utter those three words out, the same three words she vowed to not say ever again, that she used all the love she had to one guy and he broke it. The words alone felt different and the fact she was okay with saying it to AJ. “You should know I never even tell my friends I love them, this isn’t some spur of the moment because I’m always worried about being cheated on.”

AJ was completely in shock at Lydia's confession and let out a chuckle, it was that relief that lifted from his shoulders and slowly, the knot in his throat began to lessen and he felt like he could breathe again. "Damn, I feel pretty damn special then," He teased. "You beat me to the punch though, because I love you. And I'm not saying too as an echo, this is me saying, that I love you, and you drive me up the wall with your sadistic ass, but," He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek, "I can't imagine not having you."

lydia b.

Lydia smiled, she never would’ve guess that she would utter those words out to him in this sort of fashion. She figured she would be in a desperate moment and confesses, she realized maybe she should lay off the romantic movies for a bit. “I think you’ll survive, if you could do it before, definitely can do it after.” Her hand reaching up to squeeze his forearm, “does that mean I can’t go and screw parker one last time?” She jokingly asked.

AJ let out the loudest sigh as his hands cupped Lydia’s face carefully after her both remarks. “Lydia, you have to let me love you and not kill this moment,” He said in a more serious tone. “I know you hate romance but, at least just take in this moment, right here, right now. Cause this is it right here, there’s no going back. I know you’ve been hurt before, so you have to joke in moments like these to protect yourself, but I’m saying let me in. I’m not going to hurt you, Lydia.”

lydia b.

Lydia stared into his eyes, her heart fluttering at the serious look he held in those eyes of his. She knew it was wrong to joke around but it was what she knew best to do in situation like this. “Correction you did hurt me, should I remind you of the little secret you kept from me? How can you ask me to trust you when you do something like this?” She pointed out, she wanted nothing more than to do just that, let him in for once, now that she knew her true feelings for AJ she believed she could.

AJ took a breath and nodded, “I did, and I’m sorry for hurting you by hiding where I was going. It won’t happen again, you know unless it’s Christmas and I’m trying to hide from you to buy your present or your birthday—But it doesn’t take away from the fact that, this isn’t a joke, Lydia. I know you’re scared because you just said what you said. You can’t vocalize vulnerability and just before I make it to the door you shut me out, y’know? If this means I’m back outside of your wall, let me know, I know I have shit to work on, but I just want you to be sure, and I guess, I want to be sure too, that I’m what you want,” He admitted. “You don’t have to let down all your walls right away, but I’m just asking for you to sit in the moment.”

lydia b.

“You’re asking a lot from me AJ,” she felt the quiver in her tone, clearing her throat, “I just told you I love you and your past, but if you can’t accept the way I handle my own uncomfortable situations then maybe we need to take a breather. I’m not breaking up with you and you’re nothing like my ex but I know sometimes you feel as if I would leave you for him. I won’t, yes parker and I have a past. I can’t change that, I have a heart that I’m still repairing. It may take sometime but I will let you inside.”

“Yeah...I think we do need to take a breath—“ AJ attempted to say before his lips quivered into a smile. “Fuck I can’t do it with a straight face!” He laughed softly. “Lydia, I know you need time, okay? I just got frustrated for a sec cause I thought you were still joking, but you’re not—and you’re right. Lowkey, sometimes I think, you’ll go back because of that past yknow? But,” He looked at her with sincerity, “Take your time. I know this won’t be a cake walk. I got you.”

lydia b.

“Then quit getting mad at me because I won’t let you in right away,” Lydia slapped his shoulder and moved away from his grasp, looking out the window. “I love you but you’re a big pain in my ass sometimes, you know how ready I was to attack a bitch you we’re screwing? I could have end up in jail.”

AJ laughed, shaking his head, rubbing his shoulder when Lydia had moved away. She had a hard hit. “Didn’t like the tables turned on ya huh?” He teased. “But no I just thought you were fuckin’ with me, so that’s why I got flustered, I’m sorry baaaabe,” He called out to her for the first time as he went to pull her towards him. “I love you, but just know I can carry you before you murder anyone for staring at me,” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll even make it up to you. You could...” He whispered in her ear “Peg me or I could let you sit on my face?”

lydia b.

Lydia felt a shiver go down her spine at his suggestion, the little devil on her shoulder suggested to cave in, but her stubborn side wanted to pout a little longer. “Don’t be using sex against me, you know that’s my strategy,” she grumbled and turned her face away from his, sitting there with her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t help that I have to glare at these bitches for gawking at you and you giving them a smile.”

AJ chuckled at Lydia’s stubbornness. She was endearing like that. “You can’t say it didn’t rile you up a little,” He smirked, pressing kisses to her cheek and neck. “But I don’t smile at them the way I smile at you. I’m all yours, you know that.”

lydia b.

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes, typical answer for him, she was still iffy but that was just her insecurities that one day AJ would get tired of her shit and break it off with her. She didn’t share those thoughts due to him probably saying that he loves her and only sees her type of bullshit. “Maybe I’ll flash my own pretty smile at both men and women that hit on me, giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

AJ turned Lydia to face him and he gave her a more sincere look. "Lydia," He said softly. "I will literally fuck the shit out of you if you try and make me jealous, I hope you know that," he began with a mischievous look, but then followed up with, "It's also normal to worry. You're gonna need a lot of reassurance, and that's okay. I'll show you every damn day, that I love you, even when you drive me up the wall. I'll be gentle with you...outside of the sheets."

lydia b.

her eyes widen slightly at his words, she always forgot that this part of him always comes through when tested by her. She just never expected for him to say those words, but it excited her to see if he would fall through with his promise. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and smiled, “at least I said it first and now you can stop over thinking if I do like you, I love you, until you try what you did again then I will cut you off so fast.”

AJ had to try to bite back a smirk when he noticed Lydia's eyes go wide at the sudden switch up. He liked casually reminding her at the worst times about how much of a freak he was. The only downside was they were in his jeep...in front of his sister's apartment. "I know, I know," He chuckled. "I promise, it won't happen again. I'll be honest with you. I love you."

[yourpastor28]

THE LEERING LOOK

"Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart."  Matthew 5:27-37

 Jesus taught that there’s not too much difference between the actual adulterer and all those who quite regularly commit "lust of the heart." He taught that we are to regard lustful looking at a woman as an offense no less serious than an act of adultery; such is the import of having "already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Mat. 5:28). These are pretty strong words, among some of the most troublesome Jesus ever uttered. Are lust and adultery the same? Is a look with prurient interest the same as an actual physical act of adultery?

There can be no watering down of these words; we have to believe that Jesus was absolutely serious. But we also have to believe that He was not condemning the natural desire of a man for a woman. What was being condemned is that desire escalating to lust. When the look becomes a leering look, it is beginning to take steps toward its satisfaction.

 What Jesus intends by his insistence on righteousness exceeding that of the Pharisees and scribes is to drive the question of sin inward, making it an affair of the person's heart as well as his or her outward behavior. He says in effect, "You disciples are not above the law or outside the law of old, but you must go beyond that law." Lust is the poison well within a person out of which comes adultery. It is not enough that you refrain from this deadly act, you must also "cleanse the inside of the cup" (Mat. 23:26).

 Occasions for looking with lust present themselves to everyone. Is that the sin of which Jesus speaks, or would it be to entertain and harbor the lust until another person becomes a sex object?"

 The message of this text is that of complete self-control of the members of the body, so that obedience may be complete (I Cor. 3:16). The Christian's task must be to live in this world by the standards of the higher righteousness, which exceed the maximum requirements of justice and law.

 Though contemporary English uses "lust" only in a negative way, the word originally meant "craving, strong desire" and was morally neutral. In the New Testament, it came to mean sexual passion or obsession, but the Bible does not depreciate the natural use of sex. It does designate lust, however, as representing one of the many forces which belong to the world of unsanctified carnality, which strive against the work of the Holy Spirit and which drag people down. Simple pleasure, as such, is not contrary to the will of God, but enslaving desire and evil pleasure are.

 In the Sermon on the Mount (Mat. 5) we find many of Jesus' teachings. It is the most challenging sermon in the world. It challenges us to see and understand life from a dimension that has spiritual qualities in it. It's challenging because if we're not living life from the broader spiritual foundation, trying to grasp Jesus' meaning leaves us confused.

 Jesus states that anger, insult, and slander are as divesting to us spiritually, as the actual physical attack upon another or even murder. Our intentions, our emotions, and desires, as well as the act itself, place us at spiritual risk. Then He addresses adultery and broadens the subject to include lust and anything else which causes us to stumble spiritually.

 He taught that if we treat other people as objects and things, without regard for them as persons, without love and respect and consideration being a part of the relationship, either husband or wife may make of the other person a prostitute, one who has relationships without commitment. Lust is a selfish and debilitating attempt to meet one's own needs. Jesus encourages us to be open to the needs of others, and, thereby, we find our own needs fulfilled in a miraculous way.

 A pastor, disturbed that Sunday sports were diminishing his congregation, expounded on the words, "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world" (I Jn. 2:15), by saying: "If that doesn't mean football, what does it mean?"  

 We can fall into the same interpretive error by interpreting "lust" only in terms of lecherousness. Lust can be an inordinate desire for just about anything, lust for possessions, lust for power, lust for glory, and so forth.

 The hand-chopping, eye plucking remedy for sin could never work, if for no other reason than the fact that we have more sins than we have bodily parts. If all offending parts were removed, in the end, we would be simply torsos supporting heads. And there's the problem. Our hearts and minds are still intact. Yet from our hearts and minds come forth all our sins. Our other organs would have been made scapegoats for the real culprit. 

[depechemodespiritera]

Depeche Mode frontman Dave Gahan is having a wistful moment of gratitude, gazing out the picturesque window of his Beverly Hills hotel room at the sunshine that radiates like a golden blanket over steadily swaying palm trees and dreamy, magazine-ready homes in the hills beyond.

"L.A. has been there for us from day one, really," he says of his band's Angeleno fan base. "We were playing smaller places, but there was a cult aspect to the way people came to our shows and knew our music, before they even knew who the band was."

It's late April, and Gahan and his longtime partner in Depeche, Martin Gore, are doing interviews in their rooms at the Four Seasons as they gear up for a secret fan show at Hollywood Forever Cemetery's Masonic Lodge, a warm-up gig for an international tour in support of their latest album, Spirit. (The band's third member, Andy Fletcher, was not present.) Both speak enthusiastically about their love of L.A. and their fervent fan base here, which helped them sell out a record-breaking four nights at the Hollywood Bowl, something no other group has ever done.

Much has been made of L.A.'s Morrissey obsession, but it could be argued that Depeche Mode, who play those sold-out Bowl shows starting this week, enjoy an even more fanatical following here. There are club nights devoted to them and a popular DM convention held here every year, and the band's hits have never left rotation on L.A. radio, not just KROQ (where they got their first airplay) but mainstream pop stations as well.

Many Angelenos who came of age in the '80s and '90s feel a kinship with Depeche Mode and their songs' themes of sorrow and struggle, shameless romance and eternal outsider-dom. It's the same reason the goth scene is so popular here. Depeche Mode's music speaks to those of us who have always felt that the stereotypical image of sunny SoCal — wherein everyone is blond and beachy — is false and at odds with our true depth and dark proclivities. In an ironic way, dark music like Depeche's connects in L.A. more than anywhere else in the world. And you can dance to it.

Gore's ability to write emotive yet edgy songs with infectious hooks, and Gahan's visceral interpretations of them, have made them one of the most potent pairs in music. Personality-wise they could hardly be more different — Gahan the outgoing, dramatic frontman, Gore the quiet, sensitive songwriter. But they have much in common, too, including an obvious fondness for L.A. Gore lives with his wife and two baby daughters not far away in Santa Barbara. Gahan, who resides in New York, says his 18-year-old daughter, at the time of our interview, was considering attending USC. Still, their connection to L.A. runs even deeper than most people know.

Gore recalls the band being more of an underground phenomenon when they first came to L.A. during the "Just Can't Get Enough" era circa 1982, and how the crowds swelled when they returned around '85. "That was when it blew up," he says. "It seemed like alternative radio had taken hold of the country, but especially here in L.A. ... We went from playing small theaters to big ones, playing to 15,000 people. That was incredible for us at the time."

Gahan has a soft spot for early days, too, recalling the smaller shows when they were unknowns playing the Roxy and the now-shuttered Perkins Palace. He peers intently out his window once again, this time as if he's looking for something. "When I first came here, I was like, 'I wanna live here!'?" he says, pointing at the skyline.

In 1989, Gahan left his first wife and moved in with the band's PR director, Teresa Conroy, whom he later married. His second wife is a big link to Gahan's L.A. story, one that many fans don't know much about. (Full disclosure: I have been friends with Conroy since 2008, after I profiled her in L.A. Weekly's 2008 People issue. Gahan brought her up during our interview unprompted.) What little they do know has, for the most part, been negative, with stories painting her as the scapegoat for Gahan's well-documented drug problems. With our conversation spotlighting L.A. and its influence on the band, the frontman seems eager to set the record straight.

"I fell in love with her during tour," he says. "We just connected and at the end, I told my wife in England I was not coming back. ... I showed up on Teresa's doorstep on Sweetzer and Fountain Avenue with my little suitcase and said, 'Hey!'

"We ended up getting married. We lived near Santa Monica, in Nichols Canyon and Benedict Canyon for a while. We moved around, but what brought that all down for me was I just wanted ..."

He pauses for a long moment. "Substances?" I ask.

"Yes. That's what I liked to do most," he admits, "and it tore us apart, so that was the end of it. I moved to New York around '97 and changed my life. My behavior was not gonna change in L.A.

"Some of what people thought about her might have been my doing, just blabbing my mouth off. I realized after being clean 10 years later, it was like, wow ... at the time, as long as I had what I needed, I didn't give a fuck about anybody else. And I didn't think I was that person, but I was that person."

Gahan, now 55 and married to his third wife for 18 years, has been clean and sober for more than two decades. He looks healthy and trim in a black T-shirt and dark-rimmed glasses, with hints of gray on his chin and temples. But back then, he nearly died a few times from heroin overdoses, once at the Sunset Marquis where the band rented a villa on a frequent basis. Today, however, he seems to associate L.A. and his second marriage not so much with his addiction but with inspiration.

"I haven't talked about it enough, but that time in L.A. was wonderful. The few years I did spend here when we were just hanging out and I didn't work for a couple of years, there were all these great bands playing, like Jane's Addiction, Guns N' Roses. Going to clubs like Cathouse. There was this great music coming out of L.A. There was an energy in some of the new music coming up that I was feeling and seeing here."

Gahan's personal style at the time was influenced by the L.A. rock scene (more tattoos, longer hair, leather), and he sought to steer Depeche's music that way, too. When he went back into the studio to make Songs of Faith and Devotion after 1990's Violator, the career-changing album that included worldwide hits "Personal Jesus," "Policy of Truth" and "Enjoy the Silence," Gahan says, "I was like, 'Guys, we've gotta change it up! This is just too clean, too neat!'?" But Gore and the rest of the band "didn't like at all where I was coming from."

Gore, the band's primary songwriter, was the more provocative dresser in Depeche's early days. He fancied lots of guyliner and became a fan of bondage getups — often purchased, he says, at Trashy Lingerie, not far from the Four Seasons. It gave the band an androgynous edge that "the girls seemed to like," and complemented Gore's sensitive lyrics and rhythm-driven compositions. Depeche were huge after Violator, so it's no surprise that Gore didn't want to change the winning formula, even if music in general was having a heavier moment.

Looking tan and content during our conversation (the bondage attire is long gone, replaced by a fitted black ensemble not unlike Gahan's), Gore, 56, concedes that letting go of creative control has always been something of a challenge. He describes how the early dynamics of the band evolved, putting him "behind the wheel" in terms of writing the songs and shaping the band's sound.

"When we first started we were 18 and 19, and the main driving force behind the band was Vince Clarke. He was the main songwriter, and we were just along for the ride, really," Gore says. "And then he announced to us that he was leaving before the first album was released. So because we were young and didn't really think too much about anything, we just booked some studio time and went in and carried on laying down with a three-piece, as you would at 19 and 20. We never expected it to be a huge commercial success, especially at the time. But then we grew up a little bit."

With Clarke moving on to other projects (notably Yazoo with Alison Moyet and Erasure with Andy Bell), Gore just naturally took the reins, and his talent for songwriting grew as he did. "By the time we got to the third album, we'd traveled the world quite a lot and seen a lot more," he says. "I started to get, not exactly dark by the third album [Construction Time Again], but a little bit more worldly, maybe."

Though Gahan felt like he "wanted to take it to another level," after his time in L.A. in the '90s, he didn't officially contribute to actual Depeche songwriting until 2005's Playing the Angel. It was all Gore until then. Still, the edgier aesthetics and more visceral performance style Gahan honed did steer the band into grittier territory, which fans (particularly female fans) found dramatic and sexy.

Both Gore and Gahan admit their relationship has had its tempestuous and trying moments over the years. But Gore says that after working on their latest, highly political album, Spirit, it's "as good as it's ever been."

For this tour and the Hollywood Bowl shows, Gore promises to take lead vocals on the tender numbers fans have come to expect from him, plus lots of groove-driven guitar work on songs both old and new. Depeche's massive catalog of memorable, emotionally charged music aside, their live show is why they continue to sell out stadiums at this point in their career.

I was lucky enough to attend both a rehearsal at SIR Studios in Hollywood before our interviews and the warm-up "secret" show at Hollywood Forever, and the band are as good as they've ever been onstage. With stellar production (including visuals by famed photographer and video director Anton Corbijn) and support from a solid backing band, Depeche Mode are almost certain to deliver the transcendent experience their fans expect. The Global Spirit Tour is aptly named, and Gore and Gahan hold nothing back, complementing each other in the kind of caustic yet comfortable way that only the most iconic duos do.

"Sometimes a band needs to have a bit of friction. ... The best stuff sometimes comes out of this need to be heard," Gahan explains. "Creatively we're old enough to realize that we respect each other's differences, and we know that we need each other. That's what Depeche Mode is. It's a weirdness between the two of us."

DEPECHE MODE: GLOBAL SPIRIT TOUR | Hollywood Bowl | 2301 N. Highland Ave., Hollywood | Thu., Oct. 12; Sat., Oct. 14; Mon., Oct. 16; Wed., Oct. 18; 7:30 p.m. all shows | $45 and up | hollywoodbowl.com

[mrepstein]

Melody Maker - August 12, 1967

The Epstein Interviews     

Part Two                             

By Mike Hennessey

You said in the first interview that the thing you feared most in life was loneliness. Have you ever thought about marriage?

Yes. Very often. I’d like it to happen - if it could happen. Apart from the companionship it represents, I would welcome it because I get very put out trying to run two homes on my own.

Do you think marriage is likely in the immediate future?

No.

Is that because of your attitude or because of a lack of suitable candidates?

I think because of me.

What do you look for in a woman?

Simplicity, understanding and a loveliness that appeals to me.

Have you met no women with these characteristics?

Of course I have - I’ve been introduced to many whom I would have liked to get to know better, but it just hasn’t happened.

Are you happy in the society of women?

Sometimes.

But you are fairly convinced that the prospects of your marrying are remote?

I think the wish is slightly idealistic and unlikely to be fulfilled. But it is one of the biggest disappointments to me because I must be missing out somewhere not having a wife and children. I would love to have children.

Coming from a Jewish family, have you ever encountered any personal anti-Jewish prejudice?

I’ve been very lucky. But I think a lot of anti-Jewish prejudice is occasioned not by people who are anti-semitic but by those who are affected by it. In other words, Jewish people sometimes have a defensive attitude because they expect a hostile reaction.

Funnily enough I was with a man the other evening who commented on the fact that I was staying at a hotel run by Jews. ‘But I’m a Jew,’ I told him. He was very embarrassed and said quickly, ‘Yes, but the owners of that hotel are not very nice Jews.’ Well, they may not have been very nice - I didn’t meet them. But if they were not nice it was not because they were Jews. There are unpleasant Jews, Catholics, Protestants and so on.

I believe you were asked to help the Israeli cause in the recent Middle East crisis and refused. Why?

I refused to help because I’m as sorry for a wounded Arab as I am for a wounded Israeli. People fundamentally are all the same and I can’t discriminate between Israelis and Arabs.

Did your refusal to help upset your Jewish friends?

I think Bernard Delfont and Cyril Shane who were among many who particularly asked me to help, were somewhat surprised at my negative reaction! But I can’t help it. I feel that people should have no greater concern for the suffering of one race than they have for any other. I believe in and want to help, as far as I can, to understand mankind whatever colour, creed, religion or nationality. And I think this sort of philosophy, however broad and general it sounds, is the only basic one the leaders of the world can work from to attain world peace.

Is the Jewish faith important to you?

Yes, naturally it figures necessarily in my thought. There are many beautiful and good things written in the scriptures and prayers, which I believe to be good and true. However, I find it difficult to accept religion of any kind in a ritualistic form. I find myself uneasy and unable to comprehend so much within the precincts of a Jewish house of worship. But, because I’m of Jewish parentage I find myself respectful and tolerant. I love my family dearly.

Have you ever prayed?

Yes, I prayed as a child. I loosely studied Judaism and other religions. At school I found myself interested in Roman Catholicism. I think that belief in life and God that ever prevails is better than ritualistic and religious praying

Is there any justification for the frequent association of Jewishness with meanness?

No, I don’t think so. Everybody is a bit mean. I’m mean because although I know I’ve got enough money, I’ll suddenly put the brake on and think, ‘I can’t carry on like this forever.’

You have got a great deal out of life. What have you put into it?

I have done what I can and will continue to do so. People who criticise me may have a point and may be sincere - but it doesn’t really matter what they say. I know I have done my best. People get too wound up and serious. I’ve been rude to people in my life, too, but one discovers that it is quite unnecessary. During the very, very active period of Beatles management I maintained as much calm and gave them as much of a boost to their morale as I could. I would agree that I was particularly lucky to have found them in the first place - but maybe it was destined to happen. That, to a certain extent, I believe

Do you have strong political views?

I am becoming more and more politically minded. I feel strongly about some issues and the main problem, not only in Vietnam but throughout the world, is that politicians are not single-minded in their beliefs. I think so many politicians allow so many other pressures to bear on them, restricting truthful and honest thought. 

Are you inclined towards the right or to the left in politics?

I suppose I’m left really and I think I always have been.

What social reform would you most like to see?

I would like to see more tolerance all round, more understanding and less ignorance by those who consider themselves the leaders of the country.

Do you think the Rolling Stones’ trial was an example of establishment, intolerance and misunderstanding?

I think it was an appalling mess which should never have reached the stage it did. On the other hand, maybe we will be grateful in the future that they were scapegoats. I really think the Press interest in the Rolling Stones and drugs is in excess of the public interest.

You’ve had an immensely successful career, but has there ever been a period in your life when you were filled with despair?

There have been many instances throughout my successful, semi-successful, and failure periods.

Would you care to talk about them?

No, they are too personal.

Has any period of despair ever been acute enough for you to contemplate suicide?

Yes. But I think I’ve got over that period now.

Outside the Beatles and NEMS Empire, what are your interests?

I have a natural curiosity about everything. And at present I am very keen on Spanish things. Also I’m now very involved with my Sussex home which I bought five months ago.

How much did it cost you?

About £30,000. I moved in with just the hangings and the carpets and now I’m enjoying installing bits and pieces of furniture and pictures

Where do you prefer to spend your off-duty time?

Either in Sussex or New York. I’m greatly attracted to New York and feel great in that environment. It is a beautiful city. Fortunately, I’m also able to work from either place.

What do you think of the current Flower Power scene both here and in America?

Flower power is becoming a tiny bit of a drag. It’s becoming a cliche and a fashionable cult. I’m currently wondering whether the cult is not slightly akin to rock ‘n’ roll, Merseybeat, Swinging London and so on. Basically there’s a lot to be said for the general attitude, and if the move in this direction which is toward love and things could grow throughout the world we might find this planet a better place to be living on. There is certainly nothing wrong with the attitudes expressed by the Flower Children. I think I’ve been a flower child all my life but I hope the mood will progress and not become a commercial businessman’s paradise because then it defeats its purpose. There are some signs of this but the attitude is so good, sincere and lovely that one cannot but help be happy to be in its midst. It’s an international feeling so I cannot differentiate.

[survivor-kuwait]

Episode 9 - “He just told me what side of the fence to fall on” - Corey

Well that went my way for sure!! While unanimous, literally five minutes into the warzone I told Ian we have to go after Madison and Jacob. He agreed and then we rallied the troops. Love when a plan works out. 

An alliance called M&M&M was made between Matt, Madison, and I. We were thinking of doing Ian but we didnt want to push too hard because we didnt want to reveal our cards that we had something. I just hope us sacrificing Jacob will be a positive thing for us and not a negative. Im glad theres allinces forming now. Hope i can stay away from warzone this next round but who knows. Im going to try my hardest tho.

help. who knew that my blood revenge for wanting Nehe out resulted in ALL of the other Kilimanjaro reps to be voted off one by one. parting that with chips, there was 5 people repping that season... and now I'm the lone Survivor from that season. pray for me yalls.

Ugh!!! I blame Johnny for this. Scavenger hunt is usually my favorite challenge except the both times im doing it with Johnny :p  these are soooo weird again. Dealing with this challenge and moving my stuff from my apartment on friday/saturday will probably not get me immunity. Im still trying so hopefully everyone else is busy as well. I Curse Johnny but like only a small one. Like him spilling his fries on the floor. 🍟

Hosts: Another Ian confessional, hopefully he shuts up about his idol and actually give some insight into his game. Me: MY IDOL!!!!11!!1 IT IS MINE, MY OWN, MY PRECIOUS. On a real note, I'm not sure if I confessed this round yet that one of the reasons behind the Jacob vote was to put Nar in a numbers advantage should that come into play at anytime.  The point of the premerge phase is to build as many pathways to alliances/mutually beneficial voting blocks as possible that also have a vested interest to vote with you.  I have Maynor asking to be a duo with me, sure yeah man I do like you and hope to work with you deep in this game as someone that can help me cut Corey or Trace if working with them in the game becomes problematic, but I also know Maynor has a vested interest in Kait, which I do like Kait well enough but she can't be allowed to go on a run if I want a chance to make a run myself.  Corey wants to keep our partnership as secret as possible, which yes I do think is smart, it also relies heavily on trust.  At this moment in time I have no reason but to trust Corey.  That may change in the future, he wants to keep it secret, that's chill, but I'm going to have my own backdoor deals should shit hit the fan. Devon/Matt one of them put me as the scapegoat to Jacob, I don't know which and honestly I do not care which one of them it was. They are both standing in my way at this moment for the win.  That could change in the future.  The game is long and full of terrors.

this is it this is the round im goin to the w a r z o n e 

Im safe!!! Im glad cuz tomorrow is graduation party from my parents and didnt wanna attend tribal. But i feel like Drunk Maynor is being cheated out for this season. I dont have my drinking buddies. Maybe this season wont see Drunk Maynor and I could actually be good in this game.

Me: goes to warzone a bunch People in warzone: don’t target me at all ———— Last round: People in warzone: mention my name Me: flips that ish on Jacob REAL quick also me: HA NOT GOING TO WARZONE AGAIN FOR A HOT SEC BEST BELIEVE IM FINALLY IMMUNE. imagine that! I kinda tried for once! and I placed exactly where I needed to hehe.

Thomas is a fucking idiot honestly. Like, he has been to the war zone enough times to know that the WORST possible thing you can do is throw a name out on the first night. Everything always comes together a couple hours before tribal, and by putting names out there this early, he is basically just MAKING SURE that the vote will come down between him and Adrian. For background, Thomas came to me, still butthurt about being called inactive, telling me that he wants to vote Adrian. I am very into that plan, don't get me wrong. Adrian is one person that I have literally nothing in common with. But to come in, guns blazing, this early in the war zone is a HUGE mistake, one that will probably end in a lot of extra stress for Thomas. But, it is good for me, because even though Thomas likes to spill all the tea to me, he is someone that I could very well afford losing. Kait is finally in the war zone. This could also be a pivotal moment because I would be shocked if people do not gun for her this round. I don't really want her out yet because I feel like she's a great shield for the merge, but we shall see what people want. basically, even though I don't really have any of my closest allies in the war zone (ian, Corey, Madison), I might be okay because of Thomas v Adrian, and MAJOR threats being here. The only thing that could fuck me up is if Owen tries to pull something. I do not trust that kid and want him out early merge. But for now I am just trying to lay low and vote with majority.

against all odds, I'm still safe! Warzone looks like a crackden tonight and I'm nowhere near it. I hope Owen makes it out okay. Kait, though chaotic, is someone I'm getting closer to. I would like to have her around until around f9??? we'll see. Same kind of story w Maynor. I need Thomas and Stephen OUT. Timmy as well. They are on my Arya-style kill list. I've been immune for ??? 4 tribals in a row now??? I still have my save vote to use as I have not been to tribal since obtaining it. I have also acquired a rock-save thing that Ian and I dug up together. Basically, if we go to rocks, I can use it to save myself (immune from my rock being picked). Nifty lil power... Hopefully I also get this save vote and don't become the owner of a dead power. After tomorrow's tribal, we'll be final 14. 10 gone. only 11 more to go before I'm in FTC. or 12. I don't care. As long as I'm there in the end. Ideally, with Ian and Owen and I come out victorious. I am playing nice girl, liar AND schemer. The game is outwit, outlast and you can't outwit Corey Rae Jepsen baby! and if you want the truth, this is Corey. I suspect Owen-Kait-Thomas to vote the same way. i expect Adrian-Matt to vote the same way. Chloe and Stephen are wild cards. Trace... I am praying for to be okay as well. If Chloe-Stephen-Trace-Matt-Adrian work together, they could get Thomas or Kait out. We'll see! I feel bad wanting Kait out as I do like her but if she goes w/o me having a hand in it... I'll be sad bc I like her but happy bc I think she's too smart to keep very long. She'll catch on to me. She'll plan my demise, which is exactly why I need her close to me as long as she's here. Also - Maynor coming in 2nd? I'm out here busting my butt and they're gonna rank me number three? after someone who can't even barely walk and barely do anything and all he does is sit around and fuss and curse everyone.. I was VERY insulted. (this a crystal cox quote sgflksgls) But fr he said he barely did any. mmhmmmm.. If i was on the fence about him before, he just told me what side of the fence to fall on. 

Im glad Im safe. Idk how this  vote will actually go. I wish luck to thomas matt kait. And ithers but cant remember who from other side is in it. Today imma just keep talking to ian and corey to make deeper bonds with then and enjoying my grad party. Drunk maynor may leave a confessional later.

This warzone is by far the most crucial one in my game. I’m absolutely PARANOID at this point because Kait gave me some info that Ian is mad at me for telling Jacob to vote him, wasn’t my idea but okay. I’m at a point where playing in the middle will leave me getting absolutely squashed in the middle. My allies Kait and Adrian are totally at odds with each other, and Thomas is targeting Adrian and Adrian is targeting Thomas and like, I just wanna vote Chloe. I have the feeling that Adrian needs to go this time around, it would free me of the threat of being sign partners in this game and I’d rather leave bitter betrayals for the pre jury portion of the game. As long as I’m not getting votes and I can keep holding on to this idol and some semblance of good graces with everyone in the game I’m satisfied.

Well I forgot to submit the video confessional I will later lol but I want Adrian out. He seemed very d*ckish about me being inactive and I am not taking kindly to it. It seems Trace is with me and so it Kait and Owen. I hope I can get on more person so we can get Adrian out.

I'm highkey getting 15th again... and I'm gonna cry. Like this fucking hurts so much. People aren't talking to me and the few people are just talking about life and pretty much anything but the vote. Getting a third 15th placement will literally crush my heart and soul so much, so I pray that something works out in my favor.

So happy to be safe, didn't think I would be. Ummmmm, looking at who is going to tribal, i'm not sure who is going to get voted out. I would be so sad if Kait goes, but it would be a smart move in all honesty because this is the first time she's gone to tribal. Getting her or Owen out would be a big move, but I need them in the game for the time being because they are some of the only people who are seen as bigger challenge threats than me. Although I am only safe because of the tribe I'm on, I've never scored the best overall and so really it's an interesting scenario, if I was on the other tribe I would be at the warzone, yet on mine I got 3rd. I just hope it's not a unanimous vote because I want people to come back to camp with drama.

I feel more sick than I ever have and now I’m back in the war zone. How fun. I just hope I can manage to stay safe yet again, I feel like that’s unlikely though 

Okay so I’ve been busy af with my friends all of a sudden it’s almkst tribal nnnnn and it’s between Chloe and Adrian rn. Adrian allegedly wanted me and Kait out earlier YIKE so I originally wanted him but now it’s like matt pushing for Chloe This is rlly good for my game tho because it gives me and Kait something to bond over that sets us apart from matt. I literally am never going to turn on Kait in this game.... fuck. I hope she do the same .

Its Alcohol Time!!!!!!!!

Show just got out and barely anyone messaged me the whole time whoops! I think I’m about to get blindsided tbh this is too quiet lmaooo but Kait and I pushed Adrian so hopefully that’s it. If not then it’s been fun. This seems too easy so I’m not expecting much nnnn but if I’m here.... I’m goin for it 

Im drinking more now. And im nervous who is leaving tonight. Hope the people im working with stay alive.

Good news! I won the past two challenges and have been safe!  That is awesome. Even better news is I just searched Q10 and got a hit which means I’m near an idol :)

Okay so I’ve been busy af with my friends all of a sudden it’s almkst tribal nnnnn and it’s between Chloe and Adrian rn. Adrian allegedly wanted me and Kait out earlier YIKE so I originally wanted him but now it’s like matt pushing for Chloe This is rlly good for my game tho because it gives me and Kait something to bond over that sets us apart from matt. I literally am never going to turn on Kait in this game.... fuck. I hope she do the same .

I am drunk. And i miss havjng my drinkjng buddies in dani alyssa n jess. And havung jones be on call. I need to find some drinking buddies here to have more fun. Plus monty alyssa n johnny r doing amazing as hosts this seasob.

[sociologyquotes]

A Look at the Myth of Reverse Racism

[CONTENT WARNING: Use of anti-black and anti-Native slurs]

from the article A Look at the Myth of Reverse Racism by Tim Wise

“Recently, when speaking to a group of high school students, I was asked why I only seemed to be concerned about white racism towards people of color. We had been discussing racial slurs, and a number of white students wondered why I didn’t get as upset about blacks using terms like “honky” or “cracker,” as I did about whites using words like “n*gger.” Although such an issue may seem trivial in the larger scheme of things—especially given the more significant discussions about racism in the educational system that I had hoped to engage in that day—the challenge posed by the students was actually an important one. In fact, it allowed a discussion about the very essence of what racism is and how it operates. On the one hand, of course, such slurs are quite obviously inappropriate and offensive, and ought not to be used. That said, I pointed out that even the mention of the words “honky” and “cracker” had elicited laughter; and not only from the black students in attendance, but also from other whites. The words are so silly, so juvenile, so utterly pathetic that they hardly qualify as racial slurs at all, let alone slurs on a par with those that have been historically deployed against people of color. 

The lack of symmetry between a word like honky and a slur such as “n*igger” was made apparent in an old Saturday Night Live skit, with Chevy Chase and guest, Richard Pryor. In the skit, Chase and Pryor face one another and trade off racial epithets during a segment of Weekend Update. Chase calls Pryor a “porch monkey.” Pryor responds with “honky.” Chase ups the ante with “jungle bunny.” Pryor, unable to counter with a more vicious slur against whites, responds with “honky, honky.” Chase then trumps all previous slurs with “nigger,” to which Pryor responds: “dead honky.” The line elicits laughs all around, but also makes clear, at least implicitly that when it comes to racial antilocution, people of color are limited in the repertoire of slurs they can use against whites, and even the ones of which they can avail themselves sound more comic than hateful. The impact of hearing the antiblack slurs in the skit was of a magnitude unparalleled by hearing Pryor say “honky” over and over again.

As a white person I always saw terms like honky or cracker as evidence of how much more potent white racism was than any variation on the theme practiced by the black or brown. When a group of people has little or no power over you institutionally, they don’t get to define the terms of your existence, they can’t limit your opportunities, and you needn’t worry much about the use of a slur to describe you and yours, since, in all likelihood, the slur is as far as it’s going to go. What are they going to do next: deny you a bank loan? Yeah, right. So whereas “nigger” was and is a term used by whites to dehumanize blacks, to imply their inferiority, to “put them in their place” if you will, the same cannot be said of honky: after all, you can’t put white people in their place when they own the place to begin with.

Power is like body armor. And while not all white folks have the same degree of power, there is a very real extent to which all of us have more than we need vis-à-vis people of color: at least when it comes to racial position, privilege and perceptions. Consider poor whites. To be sure, they are less financially powerful than wealthy people of color. But that misses the point of how racial privilege operates within a class system. Within a class system, people tend to compete for “stuff” against others of their same basic economic status. In other words, rich and poor are not competing for the same homes, bank loans, jobs, or even educations to a large extent. Rich competes against rich, working class against working class and poor against poor. And in those competitions racial privilege most certainly attaches. Poor whites are rarely typified as pathological, dangerous, lazy or shiftless the way poor blacks are, for example. Nor are they demonized the way poor Latino/a immigrants tend to be. When politicians want to scapegoat welfare recipients they don’t pick Bubba and Crystal from some Appalachian trailer park; they choose Shawonda Jefferson from the Robert Taylor Homes, with her seven children. And according to reports from a number of states, ever since so-called welfare reform, white recipients have been treated far better by caseworkers, are less likely to be bumped off the rolls for presumed failure to comply with new regulations, and have been given far more assistance at finding new jobs than their black or brown counterparts.

Poor whites are more likely to have a job, tend to earn more than poor people of color, and are even more likely to own their own home. Indeed, whites with incomes under $13,000 annually are more likely to own their own home than blacks with incomes that are three times higher due to having inherited property. None of this is to say that poor whites aren’t being screwed eight ways to Sunday by an economic system that relies on their immiseration: they are. But they nonetheless retain a certain “one-up” on equally poor or even somewhat better off people of color thanks to racism.

It is that one-up that renders the potency of certain prejudices less threatening than others. It is what makes cracker or honky less problematic than any of the slurs used so commonly against the black and brown. In response to all this, skeptics might say that people of color can indeed exercise power over whites, at least by way of racially-motivated violence. Such was the case, for example, this week in New York City where a black man shot two whites and one Asian-Pacific Islander before being overpowered. Apparently he announced that he wanted to kill white people, and had hoped to set a wine bar on fire to bring such a goal to fruition. There is no doubt his act was one of racial bigotry, and that to those he was attempting to murder his power must have seemed quite real. Yet there are problems with claiming that this “power” proves racism from people of color is just as bad as the reverse.

First, racial violence is also a power whites have, so the power that might obtain in such a situation is hardly unique to non-whites, unlike the power to deny a bank loan for racial reasons, to "steer" certain homebuyers away from living in “nicer" neighborhoods, or to racially profile in terms of policing. Those are powers that can only be exercised by the more dominant group as a practical and systemic matter. Additionally, the "power" of violence is not really power at all, since to exercise it, one has to break the law and subject themselves to probable legal sanction. Power is much more potent when it can be deployed without having to break the law to do it, or when doing it would only risk a small civil penalty at worst. So discrimination in lending, though illegal is not going to result in the perp going to jail; so too with employment discrimination or racial profiling.

There are plenty of ways that more powerful groups can deploy racism against less powerful groups without having to break the law: by moving away when too many of "them" move in (which one can only do if one has the option of moving without having to worry about discrimination in housing.) Or one can discriminate in employment but not be subjected to penalty, so long as one makes the claim that the applicant of color was "less qualified," even though that determination is wholly subjective and rarely scrutinized to see if it was determined accurately, as opposed to being a mere proxy for racial bias. In short, it is institutional power that matters most. Likewise, it’s the difference in power and position that has made recent attempts by American Indian activists in Colorado to turn the tables on white racists so utterly ineffective. Indian students at Northern Colorado University, fed up by the unwillingness of white school district administrators in Greeley to change the name and grotesque Indian caricature of the Eaton High School “Reds,” recently set out to flip the script on the common practice of mascot-oriented racism. Thinking they would show white folks what it’s like to “be in their shoes” and experience the objectification of being a team icon, indigenous members of an intramural basketball team renamed themselves the “Fightin’ Whiteys,” and donned t-shirts with the team mascot: a 1950’s-style caricature of a suburban, middle class white guy, next to the phrase “every thang’s gonna be all white.” Funny though the effort was, it has not only failed to make the point intended, but indeed has been met with laughter and even outright support by white folks. Rush Limbaugh actually advertised for the team’s t-shirts on his radio program, and whites from coast to coast have been requesting team gear, thinking it funny to be turned into a mascot, as opposed to demeaning.

Of course the difference is that it’s tough to negatively objectify a group whose power and position allows them to define the meaning of another group’s attempts at humor: in this case the attempt by Indians to teach them a lesson. It’s tough to school the headmaster, in other words. Objectification works against the disempowered because they are disempowered. The process doesn’t work in reverse, or at least, making it work is a lot tougher than one might think. Turning Indians into mascots has been offensive precisely because it is a continuation of the dehumanization of such persons over many centuries; the perpetuation of the mentality of colonization and conquest.

It is not as if one group—whites—merely chose to turn another group—Indians—into mascots. Rather, it is that one group, whites, have consistently viewed Indians as less than fully human, as savage, as “wild,” and have been able to not merely portray such imagery on athletic banners and uniforms, but in history books and literature more crucially. In the case of the students at Northern, they would need to be a lot more acerbic in their appraisal of whites, in order for their attempts at “reverse racism” to make the point intended. After all, “fightin” is not a negative trait in the eyes of most white folks, and the 1950’s iconography chosen for the uniforms was unlikely to be seen as that big a deal. Perhaps if they had settled on “slave-owning whiteys,” or “murdering whiteys,” or “land-stealing whiteys,” or “smallpox-giving-on-purpose whiteys,” or “Native-people-butchering whiteys,” or “mass raping whiteys,” the point would have been made. And instead of a smiling “company man” logo, perhaps a Klansman, or skinhead as representative of the white race: now that would have been a nice functional equivalent of the screaming Indian warrior. But see, you gotta go strong to turn the tables on the man, and ironic sarcasm just ain’t gonna get it nine times out of ten. Without the power to define another group’s reality, Indian activists are simply incapable of turning the tables by way of well-placed humor.

Simply put, what separates white racism from any other form, and what makes anti-black, anti-brown, anti-yellow, or anti-red humor more biting and more dangerous than its anti-white equivalent is the ability of the former to become lodged in the minds of and perceptions of the citizenry. White perceptions are what end up counting in a white-dominated society. If whites say Indians are savages (be they of the “noble” or vicious type), then by God, they’ll be seen as savages. If Indians say whites are mayonnaise-eating Amway salespeople, who the hell is going to care? If anything, whites will simply turn it into a marketing opportunity. When you have the power, you can afford to be self-deprecating, after all. The day that someone produces a newspaper ad that reads: “Twenty honkies for sale today: good condition, best offer accepted,” or “Cracker to be lynched tonight: whistled at black woman,” then perhaps I’ll see the equivalence of these slurs with the more common type to which we’ve grown accustomed. When white churches start getting burned down by militant blacks who spray paint “kill the honkies” on the sidewalks outside, then maybe I’ll take seriously these concerns over “reverse racism.” Until then, I guess I’ll find myself laughing at the thought of another old Saturday Night Live skit: this time with Garrett Morris as a convict in the prison talent show who sings: Gonna get me a shotgun and kill all the whiteys I see. Gonna get me a shotgun and kill all the whiteys I see. And once I kill all the whiteys I see Then whitey he won’t bother me Gonna get me a shotgun and kill all the whiteys I see. Sorry, but it just isn’t the same.”

[liesandarbor]

Sansa’s Psychological ‘Superpower’: Convincing herself shit isn’t quite as bad as it is

Throughout the main narrative and text of ASOIAF, we see Sansa Stark utilize defense mechanisms to survive being beat in front of the court (often enough that almost every member of the kingsguard had done it a few times), being touched by creepy old dudes often, and basically just suffering as a Prisoner of War.  We’re not here to chat about Sansa’s misgivings and mistakes (a young girl, age 11 in the start of AGOT), because there’s nothing to chat about with that - what I am here to chat about is Sansa’s “superpower”, and how it is basically the reason she’s alive.

(It’s not actually a superpower, she’s psychologically trying to ‘safeguard’ herself by pretending that s h i t  i s n ‘ t  b  a d, so just keep reading )

Sansa is often seen practicing Level III Neurotic Defense mechanisms, some such as displacement, denial, dissasociation, repression, rationalization  and projection  throughout the books, veiling her mind and intelligence with mostly the goal to survive.

We see her with the Tyrells beginning a secret betrothal to Willas, and in the beginning she is wary - as she should be, though this is just the beginning of her realizing that she is a pawn to move as pleased-

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . ." 

 "Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?"

 "Willas has a bad leg but a good heart," said Margaery. "He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

-ASOS, Sansa I

So we get, in typical Sansa fashion, her processing this new escape, this new loop-hole.  Ser Dontos is taking too long to get her out of the capital, she wants nothing more than to fix/fill the hole of emotional and physical abuse suffered at the hands of her beautiful, golden King, and the Tyrells have offered her the perfect scapegoat.  --- also, don’t forget to look at that immediate reaction when she is offered Willas:  I must not offend them.  A reflection on the abuse suffered- she immediately fears what will happen if she offends them, and worries about watching her only escape fade away. 

It only takes a meeting with Dontos in the godswood to cause her to second guess these emotions, to which we see her immediately transfer all of these feelings elsewhere.

 But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

Sometimes she would whisper his name into her pillow just to hear the sound of it. "Willas, Willas, Willas." Willas was as good a name as Loras, she supposed. They even sounded the same, a little. What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

-ASOS, Sansa II

Willas is close enough to Loras.  Margaery said he was kind.  She could live with that. She convinces herself that a crippled leg won’t deter her from “having true happiness” or a ‘close enough’ to true happiness (which, funnily enough, isn’t the only crippled leg that she will have to think about, but we can come back to that as an after thought).  

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed. 

“I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must . . . he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does. 

-ASOS, Sansa III

Sansa’s hopeless desperation at wanting to get out of the Lion’s Den manifests itself in several ways throughout the main narrative. We see her utilizing tools for survival, tools to protect herself from getting further hurt- we see her displace the negative emotions and events, we see her justify actions from others in her mind, anything to ease that good ol’ perfect-dream-life ideaology into place.  

We see her hopes dashed in front of her eyes as Cersei tells her she is to marry Tyrion- not even an hour before the ceremony.  Every single built up thought she spent normalizing Willas in her eyes, every defense and wall she built up to cause herself to accept that this was the only good card she had to play, destroyed in front of her.  And Sansa’s 12-year-old mind knew something had to have been wrong.  She comments on Cersei letting her have a beautiful new dress, she wonders, she pushes those thoughts away and smiles, she thinks it’s all for Willas.  Her rose, her romanticized rose who will make all of the pain of King’s Landing disappear. 

I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

-ASOS, Sansa III

She’s young and naive, but she knows and is continually learning how the game is played. Sansa knows her head rolls when she doesn’t comply, she chooses self-preservation over fighting.  

Even in her wedding bed, Sansa pushes out of her mind to find some way to rationalize being with Tyrion.  She swallows her pride, as she has done for the whole fucking 3 books, but I digress, and tries to find some sort of love for him.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how?

-ASOS, Sansa III

Our next glimpse of Sansa in ASOS has us rejoining her after her whole family pretty much gets the crap murdered out of them, and we do not get to have her exact initial thoughts and reactions to the Red Wedding.  We see her normalized, stuck into her marriage and life, going about her every day life as it has been now.  And we begin to receive a much more honest, bitter and #WOKE Sansa after her third chapter.  Sansa IV shows Sansa beginning to pull out of some of her most internal struggles and psychological defenses.

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.

and 

But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men - the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery - and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

and

Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.

-ASOS, Sansa IV

and here is where Sansa breaks. You see, Sansa V is where her traumatized, 12-year old brain can no longer take anymore of her repressing, pretending, pushing thoughts and blames and abuse onto anything and anyone, like a sponge that’s been thoroughly soaked, Sansa is completely conflicted and distraught from Joffrey’s death.

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?

She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before.

-ASOS, Sansa V

The progression of hysterics that Sansa finds herself in the midst of during her flight from King’s Landing shows us a lot at once- she is having a whole flashbang of emotions happen at once.  One, her abuser is dead.  The stem of a large amount of torment she had gone through is completely gone.  Destroyed.  She’s free.  She’s finally free from the threats of rape and being beaten by the King.  but her conditioning is still kicked in.  She struggles through her own thoughts to find how she really feels- something she hasn’t been allowed to do over the last year.  

I don’t plan on delving in to AFFC right now to continue how Sansa’s behaviors and mechanisms have progressed/regressed/changed, however we see as we peruse Sansa V that her torment isn’t over yet.  She’s fallen right back in hand with someone who isn’t as physically dangerous to her (at the moment) as Joffrey was, but someone who’s skilled in psychologically manipulating others, who can prove just as dangerous- especially with someone in such a weak and easily swayed psychological mindset who has endured so much continuous trauma- Littlefinger.

He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home."

-ASOS, Sansa V

Littlefinger takes Sansa at her most sensitive and whisks her away.  Most people follow the Hades/Persephone parallels ( "Thank you, my lord." Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin.), but there is so much more to be gathered.  Littlefinger took a bird with a broken wing, thinking that this would be easy and simple to manipulate and succeed with.  But Littlefinger doesn’t understand that Sansa Stark has already started waking up.  She’s already started to come out of her defense mechanisms.  Slowly but surely she has been chipping away at dealing with the truth.  She has begun to accept that she was a pawn, begun to accept that she was easily manipulated, and come to the truth that no one will want her except for her claim.  

Which is the rebirth of Sansa Stark.  Where will her plot lead? There’s still a long road ahead for Sansa’s arc and plot, and a lot of learning for her to do.  No, she is not a master player of the game, and no, she is not a supreme manipulator (yet).  It is going to take all of TWOW, further betrayal from Littlefinger, and Sansa using everything that she has observed from Littlefinger and her own wits to get her to the point of “And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. “ 

But she will get there.   By the age of 13, Sansa has suffered sexual, emotional, verbal, physical and pretty much any line of abuse that you could muster into thought.  She has survived it.  She kept herself in her own head, created fake situations and thoughts to displace the pain of the memories (unkiss comes to mind), but Sansa Stark has woken up and the wolf bitch is comin’ home.   

Sansa’s love life is one that’s up for debate consistently in the ASOIAF world, and while I don’t want any of her ‘love’ life to be the focus of this essay (I wouldn’t consider any of her political marriages to be love, despite her convincing herself to love Loras), I do love the chemistry, energy and connection between Sansa and Sandor, the only one of her male ‘suitors’ (wouldn’t really call him a suitor, but we’ll leave it for now) who gave her a choice and did not attempt to manipulate her for his political/regular gain.

And, just for some good ol’ crackpot fun, Sansa did convince herself that she could love a lame man in ASOS.....

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. "Be more watchful there," chided Brother Narbert. "Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt." The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear.

-AFFC, Brienne

TL;DR: Sansa Stark used defense mechanisms because she is a prisoner of war who has suffered mountains of abuse, and she protected the shit out of herself by doing so.  The first 4 books for Sansa Stark were about survival: the next 3 are going to be about taking back her agency and her power of choice, and bringing parts of the realm back together.

[msilwrites]

CATFISH, CHAPTER 1 - Profile

A/N: Here is the first chapter. I know this topic is hard as the heroine of the story isn’t a perfect person and is full of flaws. Again, no one is perfect. This might be a little bit of a hard read due to the topic. Charlie’s character will come later, in the meantime, enjoy Henry.

SYNOPSYS

Well, often for the same reasons people lie, cheat, or steal in general, but Catfish are a special breed.

The first thing you need to know about Catfish is that they aren’t all alike.  They are as diverse as those they deceive and victimise. Some are Catfishing for pleasure. Other get caught up in it and then feel they’re in too deep to come clean. Some are con artists and scammers who want money or to play a trick.

Elsie is a woman who CATFISHES due to insecurities and wants to disassociate from her own life. And is in search of ‘connection’. She didn’t intend to hurt and deceive anyone.  Yet this type of catfishing often feels as if DECEIT is the only way she can connect with another on a deep level.  She just didn’t expect that she’d make a strong connection with a  PSYCHOPATH.

Unable to continue with her lies, Elsie breaks up with the man online and cuts every communication with him. Only to later realise that she had messed with the WRONG man.

Cast:

OFC - Elsie Aaf

Lyle - Domhall Gleeson

Howard - Henry Cavill

                                                           ONE                                                           Profile

Elsie dreaded work, everyone does. However, she feels sort of calm about work these days. She knew it’s awful at times, but somehow that knowledge allows her to shut off the part of her that would otherwise find it intolerable. 

As usual, she got into her cubicle and sat down in front of her desk and began work. Typing away and inputting countless of data on her computer. She heaves a sigh, shuts her eyes tight to rest her eyes from staring at the monitor. Afterwards, she flexes her fingers and stretches her back. Another sigh comes out at she stares back at the screen, making sense of the numbers in the little graphic boxes. It was a simple task, yet a tedious one. She slept well the night before but suddenly found no energy to continue her task.

In walked Lyle. Lyle was one of the guys in the office who always seem to have time to do things other than work. Despite hating to admit it, she does put her work aside at times, but she doesn’t make it so obvious like he does. “Hello, Elsie…” Lyle greets her, as he leant against the wall of her cubicle.

“It’s not even lunchtime yet…” was her response. Usually, she’d join Lyle and his group for lunch. She didn’t like ‘like’ them, but she didn’t hate them either. Besides, It was better to go in a group than alone. After all, who’d help her reserve and guard a sit in a crowded food court or cafe during lunch time?

“I know, but I’m here to ask you if you’re free this weekend?” 

She paused for a while and raised a brow. What is it to him anyways? “Yes, I am free…” she answers passively and turns back to her monitor. 

“Good! I have an extra ticket for a speed dating event. A friend backed out, so I was thinking of asking you to take her place. Anyways, there will be free food, a buffet to be exact, and of course, drinks!” he babbles, whilst placing down a small ticket on her table. “This is your pass, don’t lose it…” he adds, noting on how expensive the ticket was, which is why he couldn’t let it go to waste. 

“Huh?” she examines the ticket and reads the details written on it.  The event will be held in a ‘posh-enough-hotel’ and there will be a buffet and free flow of drinks. It sounded tempting, especially for someone like her who spends her weekends alone at home. She had wanted to head out but didn’t have any ‘friends’ she’d go out with, nor was there anything that she had found interesting to do. 

Speed dating sounded interesting enough. However, she was socially awkward and didn’t know how to behave in such places. Besides, she didn’t need a partner, did she? she took great pride in managing her life alone. She didn’t have any big hole in her life, no missing part of her own particular puzzle. That’s what she has told herself, at any rate. Despite that, the buffet part sounded tempting, the thought of eating expensive food made her mouth water, so she said “Okay!”.

“Great!” he said gladly. “Oh yes… one more thing, wear smart casual! Also, while you’re at it, can you create your dating profile at this two sites?” he said while showing a dating app on his phone. She suddenly found herself regretting on saying ‘Yes’.

                                                         ********** 

Elsie sighed as she looked at the website she had signed into. There were a number of questions she needed to fill in before her profile can be displayed. The first one, called ‘Tinder’ was easier than this website. And if it couldn’t get any worst. She had to put up another profile picture in. Lyle claims that it was absolutely necessary that she join the site, as most of the speed daters were actually members. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted saying ‘yes’. 

“Hmmm let’s see…” she browsed through the questions one by one, thinking on which one she could easily answer first.

“Name huh?” she thought for a while, whether to put her real name ‘Elspeth bint Aaf’ she was afraid that no one would click her profile, knowing that she may be racially profiled. Born to a British mother and a Turkish/British father earned her that name format. But she looked ‘English’ enough for them not to ask about her background. Adding to that carrying the patronymic ‘bint’ doesn’t mean one is Muslim. But some people like to think so otherwise.

 Also, despite being new to this whole dating thing, Elsie knew that most men are shallow ‘creatures’ who only respond to ‘beauty’. She knew she shouldn’t be worried about it because she was only in it for the ‘buffet’ this coming weekend. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she did somehow want a ‘man’ in her life.

“Elsie Aaf it is!” she said, as she keyed in her name on the empty tab. Some people thought ‘Aaf’ sounded ‘French’. When it actually is her father’s name. She would always laugh with that assumption and never bothered correcting them. After all, it’s better that they think that way, instead of being singled out because she was different. It happened before when she made it known, she didn’t want it to happen again, so she stuck with the name ‘Elsie Aaf’.

“Hmmm… what else?” she continued to look through the page. There were a number of multiple choices set of questions she had to get through, such as  ‘Are you ready to settle down right now?’ or ‘Choose the better romantic activity?’. The choices made her cringed, but she answered it anyway.

When she finally finished answering the question, the website prompted her to upload a profile picture. 

Her brows furrowed with the last requirement. Uploading a profile picture meant she needed to upload her best looking one. The thing is, she was not someone who liked taking selfies of herself, as she was terrible at it. Besides that, she was hoping that a man would actually click on her profile because of the substance in her statement, and not because of how ‘attractive’ she looked.

With a sigh, she headed for her vanity drawer and dug into her large stash of cosmetics. Though she only wore foundation and blush on to work, she wears a full makeup look on weekends and watches tutorials online to hone her skills, which explains her large stash.

Despite her low opinion of herself about being not ‘pretty’. She still thinks that she deserves to pamper herself once in awhile, which includes buying makeup. It does not make her feel ‘guilty’, for spending her money on something so ‘frivolous’ as cosmetics, because she wanted to look ‘pretty’. After all, in her own opinion, ‘plain’ or ‘unattractive’ women like her still have every right to spend their money on anything they like. 

She began her makeup application as soon as she gathered the necessary makeup for the look she was creating.  There she was: Elsie Aaf. Short, fluffy dark hair, olive skin tone, a scar underneath her earlobe that she always tried to hide, and thick, dark eyebrows that gave her face ‘character. A strong nose, eyes that are ‘too’ big for her standards. Ears: Unexceptional. Small height, approximately average weight. She aspired to be average… She’d had been the focus of far too much negative attention in the past. But now, she felt that she wanted to be more than just ‘average’. Wondering how it would feel like to be considered ‘beautiful’.

She opted for a simple look, just enhancing her eyes and lips, giving it a plump look. Without bothering to groom her hair, she took out her phone and with a click, the camera took her picture. 

“Not bad…” she said, satisfied with the picture she had just taken, and somehow found herself ‘pretty’. She swiped through the filters available and chose the ‘black and white’ one, which gave her photo a ‘mysterious vibe’.

Finally done with the task of taking her photo, she uploads it into the computer and then the website. 

Elsie Aaf

- A person who smiles in the face of adversity… probably has a scapegoat.

About me:

I use my nervous system to perceive internal and external stimuli, concurrently processing them using existing and novel frameworks.

What am I doing with my life?

See Above.

I’m really good at

-  Making paper cranes that flap their wings, especially out of paper money. It’s an art. Folding tiny cranes out of nicotine gum wrappers.

-  I’m really good at Winning arguments against myself in my head.

-  I can make a mean complex polymeter.

-  I also have a talent for cooking developed to support my eating habit.

Things I can’t live without

-Wikipedia- I swear this helped write so many papers and along with google saved me a ton.

- Hummus

-  Pajama pants: To be worn immediately upon arriving home

- Showers: Like time, they heal all wounds.

-  Chipotle barbacoa, because if you don’t barbacoa, you’re doing it wrong.

-  Reusable shopping bags, because these damn groceries charge 85 pence for a paper one. And I’m not about to give them that satisfaction.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

- Why is pizza a circle but the box a square and slices are triangles and my soul a bottomless pit of pain and despair?

-  Why there isn’t a ‘goodminton’ ?

-  Why do our noses run but our feet smell?

-  Whether or not it’s Maybelline

-  Casual Misanthropy

-One of my coworkers stole a bag of gummy bears off of my desk. The next day said coworker told me about it. Said “sorry kiddo,” I said “no, no it’s fine”.I’ve been obsessing over my revenge for very long time now.

On a typical Friday night, I am

-Probably doing my laundry on Friday night. No shame. Gotta be done sometime! Hey, at least my clothes are clean! 

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

On the outside, I may appear like an emotionless sarcastic piece of shit, but just like an onion when you peel off more layers, you find the exact same thing every single time and you start crying.

She leans back against her seat and sighs in relief, glad to have finally completed the tedious task of filling up the blanks. Admiring the completed profile, she clicks the ‘save’ button and waited what will happen next. What followed after to her surprise was receiving a number of likes and messages in her inbox.

She excitedly clicks on the first message inside her inbox and checks the sender’s photo. Her eyes widened in disbelief on how gorgeous the man was. She felt a little sceptical for a while, thinking that it wasn’t possible to get the attention of such a handsome man. But in the end, she finally convinced herself that surely, her photo and witty one liner deserve the attention from such a man.

Howard: “Hello there, gorgeous! You’re hilarious!”

A/N: I'll be doing some soft editing, as I may have made some grammatical errors.