#they will NOT make poor financial decisions guys trust me

[sorspi]

Guys the adhd actually let me draw today

Also happy pride :)))

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.6 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Let’s learn more about reader, shall we? No Winchesters in this chapter, sorry guys!

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@maackiimoo

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Life was running its course as usual. Well, as usual as it could when you were a hunter. Your family didn’t quite know about this new career of yours. Except for your brother. To the other members of your family, you were travelling the roads of the states, doing odd jobs. You never went into specifics; they didn’t need to know everything.

Your father thought you were wasting your time, seeing as you weren’t making a lot of money. And it was true, being a hunter wasn’t always rewarding—financially. But money didn’t really matter to you. Helping people was far more important than anything else in your eyes. Also, it was reward enough to finally do something you chose for yourself.

Graduating high school, going to college, had all been for your father. You were the eldest and the first one to go to college, your father was proud of that. He had told you that much. You were going to set an example for your younger siblings. A good example they were supposed to follow. But none of them had. And they were still successful, while you had been stuck doing something that had made you miserable.

You graduated, of course, you had put in the work. And you may have gone to a community college but your degree was worth the same as one you may have gained from Yale or Stanford. People tend to look down on people who went to community college. As though your education had less value because you didn’t pay 30k or more to get into college. Of course, Community college didn’t have the same facilities as a prestigious one but you were still getting a good education. One that had the same value that one could receive in those high paid colleges.

College had offered you some time away from the chaos that was your home life. But it had also further strained your relationship with your siblings. And from that point forward there were no going back to the way things were before that.

“Dad, I’m trying to help here.” You sighed, frustration slowly rising in your chest.

“Help? How am I supposed to pay for this?” Your father shot back. “I don’t have 300 bucks laying around.”

It was a lie. He had the money; he just didn’t want to use it. His door had broken due to poor maintenance on his part. It needed to be fixed. You had found the people to fix it. It was, in your opinion, for a good price. But for him it was too expensive. He wanted things done for him without having to pay for anything. He even looked at you, asking you if you had the money to pay for it.

“Then, leave it open.” You snapped.

“Mind your tone with me.” He said in a warning tone.

“Oh, I am, trust me.” You replied. “You don’t want to fix it, and you don’t want to leave it open. So, what do you want to do?”

“So, I should just pay the guy?”

“YES!” Your hand slammed on the counter in your outburst. You took a deep breath. You needed to get out of this house before it escalated into something far bigger. “It’s either you pay the guy and he fixes your door. Or you don’t and your door stays open for strangers to waltz in. Your choice.”

You left after that. You knew your father, he was going to fight you on this, grumbling for hours, fight some more and then simply agreed to it. Walking away was the best decision, it saved you from the unnecessary headaches.

Dealing with your parents was unpleasant to say the least. Your siblings had limited their contacts with them and you were the only one who still had a relationship with them. Although, at times like this, you still wondered why. One could say; “Well, it’s family.” However, family wasn’t everything. Family didn’t excuse everything. Not to you anyway. Not anymore

Thankfully, Garth needed your assistance on a hunt. You were more than happy to help him. Especially, if this hunt was taking you away from your infuriating ways. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be working with Garth on this one. It was a fellow hunter that required assistance. A fellow hunter, you’d rather avoided. For as long as you could.

His name was Andy. Tall, freckled face, blonde hair, a really handsome fella. You two had met on a hunt and hit it off pretty quickly. It was nothing more than a fling. Or so, you thought. You weren’t looking for anything serious. But it had become so. He was a good guy and had treated you well. And yet, things between had ended in a somewhat sour note.  

“Hey, pretty girl.” He greeted you as you sat across the booth from him.

“Hey, Andy.” You greeted him back.

“You’re looking real good.” He smirked leaning across the table. “Are those new jeans?”

“Andy—” You sighed tiredly. “I’m not here for that. You said you needed help.”

He put his hands up, and he leaned back. “Business as usual.”

You scoffed. “So, what is this about?”

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t do together, Andy had told you, once upon a time. When the two of you were hunting together. Before there were feelings involved. Before it had gotten messy. You worked well together, you always had. But things between you had gotten complicated. And you decided to just walk away. It was easier this way.

The hunt had gone fairly quickly. Nothing any of you had not faced before. He was sitting in your motel room, shirtless while you patched him up. He let out a hiss as you pierced his skin with the needle.

“Sorry,” you quietly said. You worked in silence, piercing his skin with the needle and thread, sewing his skin back together. You were focused on making sure the stitches weren’t too tight.

“Where did you go?” Andy asked you suddenly.

You paused, glancing up at him. “What?”

“When you left, where did you go?”

You let out a deep breath, “as far away as I could.”

“Was I so bad you had to run away?” He scoffed.

“No. If anything you were—you are one of the good ones.” You reassured him. “I’m not.” You paused, resuming the stitching. “I thought it better to run away to save you from me. I would have hurt you.”

“Bullshit.” He snorted, you frowned.

“So, you know better than I do?”

“In fact, I do.” Andy reached for your hands, stopping their movements. “You got scared because of what you were feeling. And instead of trying to find out if I was feeling the same, you ran away. It was easier than rejection.”

Way to call you the fuck out? You remained quiet and pulled your hands away and finished stitching him up. Could he really blame you for this? He knew the kind of home you grew up in. He knew what sort of childhood you had. You told yourself you wouldn’t walk away from him. You liked him a lot, he made you feel good, put a smile on your face. He made you happy and that terrified you. So much so, you simply walked away from him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you by leaving.” You apologized softly, without looking at him. “You deserved better.”

“So did you.” He got up from his seat, he put his shirt back on and you turned to him. He had a soft and sad look on his face.

“I left you.” You reminded him.

“I know.” He stepped closer to you; his hand came to rest on your shoulder. He leaned in, his lips brushed against your temple. “Still, you deserved better too.” Andy grabbed his coat before going for the door. He turned to you, “see you around beautiful.”

“See you around handsome.” You smiled back and watched him leave.

Your throat clogged up; your eyes welled up with tears. Regrets clawing at your chest. Every single time, you let yourself have feelings for someone, you enjoyed the relationship and then—you get cold feet, you get scared and you ran away from them. Why couldn’t you just let yourself be happy? Why did you have to go and ruin everything?

And what you hated the most was the fact that he didn’t hate you. It would have been easier if he had been mad. If he had told you how horrible you made him feel. It would have felt better if he had told you he would never forgive you for hurting him the way you did. If he simply hated you as he should have. But none of that happened and it made you feel utterly horrible for the way you ended things.

Andy deserved better from you. Much better.

Your siblings were raised the same way you were and yet, they were happily married with kids. And you just couldn’t understand why it was not happening for you. Why were you so afraid and why were they not? Maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you were more broken than the rest of them. Maybe, you were broken in ways they were not.

Or maybe— maybe, you weren’t simply made for love. Or at least, there was no one in this world that you could love, or that could love you. In some toxic and twisted part of your brain, you had wanted for Andy to come after you, to fight you on this. You had expected a text or a call, for him to ask you what was going on. But none came, you left and he had accepted it. Even now, he did not fight you back on this. But he did not.

You weren’t good enough for your parents and you weren’t good enough for your siblings. Why would you be good enough for Andy? Why would he want to fight for someone like you? When even your parents did not care to do so.

You weren’t good enough.

You never had been.

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[mysterywheeze]

what a weekend, huh

I've refrained from using this blog to share my thoughts on the [gestures vaguely] situation for- well, for a few reasons. For one, I haven't been directly involved in the fandom for a while for personal reasons (I will reiterate that I am Mostly Fine). For two, until today we didn't have an official update on the matter. And for three, there's been A LOT of vitriol within the fanbase, so saying anything felt like stepping into a minefield.

Point three still stands. But what the hell? I've thrown my thoughts into worse rings.

My opinions on the whole fiasco can be summed up in four points.

ONE: Their initial plan was bad, and the way they announced it was even worse.

I don't think I have to explain why cutting off a large number of low-income and international fans is a shitty thing to do. That the initial treatment of Patreon fans was poor is, I think, similarly self-evident. And not just because we weren't initially given free access to the streaming platform; the abrupt cancellation of WW+ and early access screwed a lot of annual-membership patrons over.

We now have confirmation that Watcher needed a new revenue stream to stay operational, and that the team viewed this change as essentially a last resort to avoid layoffs or worse. We did not get this information in the "Goodbye YouTube" video. The Watcher team could have been upfront from the beginning, but they decided not to be. Instead they hyped up the announcement, even had a countdown, leading us to think that this was a sign of something good, when in reality it was a sign of something dire.

I hope we can all agree that more initial transparency would have significantly improved the audience reaction to the announcement.

TWO: The update/apology video was a good one.

They addressed why they made their decision, admitted to their fuck-up, and changed their plan. That's Owning Up To Your Mistakes 101. What we got was a compromise; they aren't scrapping the streaming service altogether, but they aren't abandoning fans who can't afford it altogether, either. And of course, they've told us that the streaming service is necessary for the survival of the company. Better late than never.

There's still a lot that they need to do before they can fully gain my trust. And I say gain, not regain, because this isn't the first time they've had a business fumble (NOTE: this is not about the HWYD incident). From Patreon rewards coming months late to factual errors in their educational shows, to what I strongly suspect is mismanagement of funds leading to their current financial troubles, they've always had flaws that ought to be addressed.

But it's a start. A good start at that.

THREE: Some fans reacted to the announcement (and to a lesser extent, to the update) in deeply inappropriate ways.

Look, I don't think you have to ~deeply adore~ Steven Lim to be a Watcher fan. I'll admit that, as a diehard Unsolved fan since 2017 who rarely watched Worth It before 2020, Steven's shows appealed to me less than Ryan and Shane's content did. The average viewcounts of Steven's shows compared to Ryan-n-Shane's shows indicates that my preferences are pretty common.

That being said, as someone who isn't particularly enthused about Steven content, I can appreciate the things he's done for Watcher and as a human being. He's always been the guy pushing hardest for Asian-American representation, as Grocery Run, Hidden Narratives, and especially his response to the 2021 tragedy in Atlanta, made very clear.

From years ago to just last week, he's said some poorly-worded and even insensitive things. He's a human. We're prone to doing that.

If you think that it's okay to insult him on a personal level over this weekend's fiasco, to drag up an old mistake he already publicly apologized for, or to make unfounded accusations about his moral character, you are solely mistaken and have some serious maturing to do. If you actually partook in any of those activities, I sincerely hope that you regret your actions and avoid repeating them. And if you're one of those people STILL trying to pin all the blame on Steven, or even calling for his resignation(?!?)... I don't know what to tell you. I really hope you become a kinder person soon.

This also goes for people who started getting personal with the other members of Team Watcher, or with their friends or loved ones outside the company. So what if Sara had an imperfect take? She's not responsible for Watcher's bad decision, and we shouldn't be dragging her into the discourse just because she's married to a guy who did a fuck-up.

And yeah, Shane did a fuck-up. It ain't cute to act like he's an innocent anti-capitalist baby being dragged into this mess by Steven. Same goes for people saying Ryan didn't play a part in this, but over the past few days I've seen way more support for Shane among conspiratorial fans than for Ryan. I'm not going to act like racial bias is the only factor at play here, clearly it's more complex than that, but making up conspiracies to protect your white fave while scapegoating the outspoken-against-racism Asian guy... it's not a good look. You have to realize that and evaluate your biases.

FOUR: The backlash to the backlash has become excessive and unhelpful.

I get it. When people are being dicks online, it's natural to speak out against it. And boy howdy, were some people being dicks this weekend. Emphasis on the some.

Yes, there's been a lot of mean-spirited, unconstructive hate sent Watcher's way over the past few days. There's also been an incredibly large volume of constructive criticism from all corners of the fandom. Some of it's been discussed between fans, some of it's been shared directly with Team Watcher. It doesn't stick in your mind as strongly as blatant hate does, but I can assure you, it's there.

And in the effort to defend Watcher against that hate, a lot of you have made it really hard for good-faith criticism to be heard.

Seriously, every time I see someone on the Wiscord politely criticize one of Watcher's decisions, they're immediately shut down by a fellow fan. Same thing happened to me in an unofficial fan server earlier today. My good-faith critique wasn't as important as the fact that some asshole could hypothetically make a similar argument in bad faith. Any attempt at a calm, reasoned discussion of Watcher's issues as a company gets drowned out with blind positivity.

Let me make my stance crystal clear: people are allowed to be upset about things that they aren't being forced at gunpoint to pay for. That's like, the the basis of media criticism. "You don't HAVE to pay for it so you shouldn't complain about it" is not an argument that should be taken seriously here on Al Gore's internet.

There's also been a lot of disingenuous use of the "don't you believe artists should get paid?" argument, because yes I do, and yes they have been getting paid. By thousands of people at once - far more supporters than most working artists receive in a lifetime. I personally have been supporting them financially since January of 2020, literally since day one. Watcher's situation evidently isn't ideal, but as far as independent creators go they're pretty darn privileged to have the following they have.

And if you think that Team Watcher has actually totally been doing the right thing all along, then you're wrong. The guys at Watcher themselves admitted that. If they really are the bastions of honesty you're convinced they are, you'll accept that. Above all, the changes they announced today are not proof that "the bullies won". If the bullies won, there would be no streaming service. What happened was a compromise, and the assholes in this fandom didn't want a compromise.

Look, I know you guys. I remember the old days, when we weren't afraid to provide feedback to Watcher when they fucked up, and over much smaller fumbles than this recent one. I know we've all put a lot of money and time into this company and the people behind it. The sunk-cost fallacy is a very powerful thing. But please don't let your hatred for bullies and love for the boys completely blind you to valid criticism. You can't entirely shield them from growing pains if what you want for them is real growth.

FIVE: This isn't a real point in the list I just had to separate my closing thoughts from the rest of the essay I accidentally wrote. Whoops.

The other day, I saw somebody (can't recall their handle, sorry) describe some fan reactions to Friday's announcement as "post-divorce honesty". It's far from the only comparison to a breakup I've seen. That phrase has been ringing in my head for a while now. Because this situation has made a lot of people reevaluate what they like about Watcher, why they became a fan in the first place, and if it's worth sticking around.

Watcher made a mistake. One that they could walk back but can't undo. Their reputation is never going to be the same as it was before. Likewise, a lot of fans said things that can't be taken back, and now that's tied to their reputation in our community. I can't blame anyone for feeling uneasy right now.

Hm. When I started writing this, I had an actual ending in mind. I don't know where that went.

Maybe that's the note I end this massive ramble on? Watcher's future is uncertain, the community's future is uncertain, so I'm uncertain about the last part of this post...? Agh. There's a reason why I'm more of a fiction writer than an essayist. It's getting late, I've got stuff to do tomorrow, and my browser's beginning to slow down from the sheer weight of my draft being open for so long.

Just... try to take it easy on each other, okay? It's been a hell of a week, and we haven't even finished Monday yet.

[sunflowericescribbles]

Dirty Dancing AU for Hazbin Hotel - more thoughts

Lmao I´m just rewatching it and I was right:

Charlie should be Baby - she would go to the peace corps xD

Also still hilarious to think of Al as Johnny, because "you are only allowed to entertain guests, don´t fuck around", not in the literal sense, but more in the "can´t keep his mouth shut to rile up the rich assholes" way XD (and potentially murdering one or two of them xD)

[btw, no I would not ship Al & Charlie, but theoretically, I think this setting could also work for this pairing, I guess^^]

And holy shit I forgot how flexible the dancers were o.o

You know what? Make it Chaggie, with Charlie oggling Vaggie dancing with Al, who just can´t tone it down and has to claim the whole dance floor to show off on the first night in the dining hall xD The only little problem I would see is that there might be too much body contact for Al´s liking in these dance scenes XD (He´s a professional with Vaggie, because she´s a professional, too, but everyone else would never get the chance to lay a hand on him outside of his work hours - more time to rile up the guests, specifically Lucifer, I guess XD)

The "melon walk" will never not be funny for me - don´t ask me why, but I quite like that scene as she´s casually taking a melon to help and then just gives it back to let the poor guy struggle because she almost didn´t get her way xD

Omg Charlie is so Baby... Lucifer would do the same and just give her the money if she asked for it without explanation. Yea, Lucifer fits in that father role, she´s daddy´s girl and he trusts her. He doesn´t trust the staff, which kinda tracks, too... and him being a doctor works well, too xD

One thing I would maybe change: let Al have an accident or get into a fight and wounded (and of course claims it´s not serious, but can´t properly dance or rather lift her up, he only gets patched up poorly), so Vaggie has to train Charlie for the upcoming performance. (let´s ignore the gender roles, at least for dancing, ok? - Charlie is the perfect height, strong enough & looks good in a suit)

Or not changing it and let get Vaggie in said trouble, Al teaching Charlie and mess around with the dynamics xD

Sorry for rambling, it just comes to my mind that I never really paid much attention to Baby´s and Penny´s interactions, but it´s really sweet how Baby cares about her even though she doesn´t really know her. She never thinks bad of her, the only thing she envies her for are her dancing skills. She´s not jealous of her relationship with Johnny, she supports her decision, even going so far a giving her financial support. Even though Penny tells Johnny to not get involved with her, I can understand where she comes from, because she´s seen how all the other rich women before treated him.

Anyway, forgot how much I love that movie and the father-daughter relationship still gets to me. Same with Charlie and Lucifer.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

A Strange God (Part 8)

Final Part. Silver and the ghosts face their uncertain future.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me."

Silver said nothing as Alison approached her bed, carrying Mia in a papoose at her front.

"Sorry we couldn't talk inside. Had to hand over my key. Not really supposed to be on the land now that construction has started."

She didn't know what to say to that. Risking a side glance at Mia, she could see how much she'd already grown, those brown eyes so much wider and interested in the world around her.

Alison shifted, guiding Mia's chubby hand to point to Silver.

"That's your auntie. Can you see her?" She cooed the baby. Silver looked away before Mia could meet her eyes; "...Don't you wanna say hello now she's stopped screaming?"

Silver shrugged, folding her arms; "Best not. Might be better neither of us gets attached if she's not going to remember us."

"What do you mean?"

"That's why you're leaving, right? So she can grow up in a 'normal' family? Mum, Dad, that heteronormative crap. No difficult aunts and uncles around. Nothing to make her life 'weird', right?"

Alison's face fell; "No, that's not..."

"It's how Pat and the others made it sound. That it was never about Mike's mum getting in the way. It was us. We were the problem, right? The ones you had to get away from?"

"If that's what they said then they're way off. Yes, you can all be a pain at times but I didn't leave to run away from you all." Alison explained, "Don't you think that if you guys were the problem then I'd have left when I found out Julian tried to kill me?"

"Why didn't you then? Why were you still talking like you had no intention of going anywhere the last time we spoke?"

"Because I didn't want to leave! Honest. If it hadn't been down to them telling me I should go, I'd probably still be here. Sure, there's been a little voice in my head for months, even before the golf people made their offer, that it would be easier to take the money and leave. And five years ago, I'd have done just that! But then everything changed and I got to know you all....You became my family."

Silver scoffed, getting up off her bed; "You mean the substitute before the 'real' one came along? Flesh and blood, normal nuclear husband, wife and baby etcetera?"

"That's not fair. I thought, out of everyone, you'd be the one to understand. You've always spoken up about me making poor financial decisions and now I'm finally doing something I'd rather not for the sake of giving Mia a future."

"By future you mean money? So you can live off a payout you didn't earn yourself and hand over a house you once used to feed the poor at Christmas over to rich twats like Barclay and Julian to enjoy? That's a great lesson for Mia, that is, just throw the towel in when things don't work. Never mind you told me that house was your dream, your passion. Never mind that it was our home, all of us! And now they're all miserable because they're back to just watching the world go by after you gave us all a taste of feeling part of it again!"

"And would the alternative have made you happy? Watching Mike and I struggle to make ends meet, barely able to clothe our daughter in a draughty house, just to keep us all together?"

Silver's chest burned with the sting of being beaten. She looked at Mia, already dressed in what looked to be warm, new clothes rather than hand-me-downs. Alison also looked far less tired, though just as sad as before.

She shook her head.

"...We'd have been there for you though. And Mike and Mia."

"I know. And I wish that could be enough. Trust me. You can't hate me for deciding to leave more than I hate myself for giving you false hope."

Alison sat down on the mound and Silver moved to join her, an awkward gap between them.

"I don't hate you. I'm just pissed off. There's a difference."

Alison smiled and nodded; "Fair enough."

"You know how much it meant for me to get to watch Mia grow up after missing out on my own niece. If you had even the slightest thoughts of leaving, I just wish you'd been honest with us about it. Because it's so much worse to get your hopes up about something."

"Tell me about it."

Mia cooed as she raised one of her hands and tried to reach to bat Silver's feather earring.

"...I'm gonna miss you, noisy. I wish we'd had more time..." Silver sighed, her heart aching.

"I didn't think we'd have to leave so soon but they wanted to start construction pretty much right away. We're currently at Mike's parents but we've already got our eyes on a house just a couple miles from here. No ghosts, have done a full sweep. Bit boring but nice big garden for this one. Mike wants us to get a dog but I reckon Robin would get as jealous as Kitty."

Silver snorted at that; "Get a dog. They're the best thing and I'll handle Robin."

"Most important thing wasn't even no ghosts. It was being as close as I could to this place. I know it's gonna be a couple years until the hotel opens but I'm gonna be here as much as possible, always around the full moon, I promise. You'll be the lucky one because you'll barely be aware when I'm not here."

She hadn't thought about it like that. To be honest, her upset had come more from being protective of the others and how it had devastated them. But Silver was already as much a visiting relative as Alison would soon be.

"I've already promised Kitty that there will be a room just for us lot. The hotel will have to make sure it's always free for any impromptu visits I choose to make. It won't be anything huge but it'll be somewhere all of you can relax in together when you wanna escape the livings."

"Sounds nice." Not the same, but it was better than losing Alison completely. Two years seemed like such a long time away, even though she knew it would pass for her much quicker.

Alison patted the zodiac sheet.

"And I told them about this place too. About the young woman who died here and how important it was. They're gonna leave it barred from the rest of the course. I might have played up how upset your family would be if they discovered their daughter's memorial spot was disturbed."

"Clever." Silver felt a swell of gratitude. "Thanks. I'm glad I don't have to worry about some Tory prick swinging a ball into my face while I sleep."

Her family had never come here though, as far as she was aware. Alison had apparently sent her mother an email years back just to send her condolences but received no reply. They probably had a grave or stone for her in the local cemetery they paid their respects.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, listening to the birds and the late Winter breeze through the trees. Mia was still reaching her hand out and Silver indulged her niece, wiggling her own ethereal digits before her.

"You better still grow up to be weird, kid. Sight or not. Don't you become some boring mean girl. Stay a freak like me and your mum."

"I'll make sure she does." Alison smiled. "Will you do something for me? I know I shouldn't ask, but...."

"What is it?" What could she do for her? She was dead.

"Look after Kitty for me. I know I broke her heart the most. She needs a sister around her, especially stuck in a house of boys...and Fanny. I've said I'll call her once I can find a way to leave a phone here. But I need to know she'll be okay...That you'll all be okay."

Silver nodded. Of course she would. However, the being okay part was a whole other topic. That she'd learned there was no way to guarantee.

Progress on the house did seem to go shockingly quick, even from Silver's limited perspective. The others soon learned to get back into their old routine from B.A (Before Alison, as Cap had termed it). They grieved the loss of a TV and internet and got back to more frequent discussion groups; food club and music club and bird watching, in between watching the builders and the hotel managers mill around, which wasn't all that exciting.

"Eight more sleeps till opening day!" She cheered one evening. When they all frowned at her, she clarified; "For me, I mean. Sucks for the rest of you." They'd all jeered, eight more months of boredom and intrusion for them.

None of them can deny the buzz that comes in the build up to the hotel being complete. Even Fanny can't deny how they've managed to revitalise the old house with the decorations. Tasteful, nothing too modern. Alison had been quite persuasive in her discussions with the managers to respect the history of the building, hence the portraits of Humphrey, Kitty and Fanny all up on the walls in the staircase.

Silver thanks the gods for getting to be awake for the doors opening, as well as Alison's first visit.

Mia is two and a half now, full of beans and running around like a wild little beast. She dreads the day she realises that the child no longer sees them, but it's hard to tell when one moment she runs when Silver calls her and other times glances around, trying to find the source of the voice calling her name, despite being next to her.

"It no happen instant." Robin explained to the rest of them. "We fade with time, with growing up. Depend on how good child can 'magine. It why Kitty still sometimes see me and Mary when she almost seven."

"Gosh, I'd thought those were dreams." The Georgian had said, wistfully, before beckoning Mia over to her with a cheerful grin, all that animosity she felt for the baby before now forgotten.

Silver prayed that Mia would have such gifts, just a little while longer. Not that just having Alison come visit wasn't exciting enough on its own.

Another cycle passes. By the time she next wakes, her friends have all adapted to their new life. She's surprised at how...content they all seem to be.

They all sit up till the small hours in Higham Suite, listening to Humphrey spill all the juicy gossip he picked up from being put on the front desk. There's a chess board set up in the room for Julian and Robin, the former of which of course in his element surrounded by golf and adulterous couples, the latter thrilled to have regular zumba classes and story time in the library for the kids dragged along with their folks. Kitty adores karaoke night while Fanny looks forward to bingo and the quizzes on Thursday. Cap has new joggers to exercise with each morning, while Pat loves the movie nights, despite Alison letting them have access to Netflix on the TV in the hotel, as well as an iPad. Julian still loves to use her Nokia, claiming it feels more classic and nostalgic than these flashy games.

Exploring the hotel and the grounds for two days left Silver feeling doubtful there would be much in this new, yet same, house for her. She hated golf and could never see herself getting over such gorgeous land being paved over and manufactured to serve the needs of rich twats. She was happy to join Kitty for karaoke and even Fanny for bingo. Nothing else really piqued her interest except for a few spicy details Humphrey would share with her.

The best moments for her would be them all sat together in the room, doing their usual clubs or watching a movie or just chatting. She was happy they were happy, enough so they didn't ask her to change their dreams anymore. Sometimes Robin would shyly ask in attempt to see his kids again, but was reluctant to spend her valuable time.

In the end, the hotel probably had turned out to be something for the better for all of them. But it didn't stop the pain for Silver when she thought of those years in between Heather and the hotel. The Alison years. She was still a part of their afterlives, sure, but it wasn't the same. There was a loss, a hole that had been sawed out to maybe never be refilled.

Eventually she found a hobby she did enjoy; following pricks around the golf course and swearing at them in hopes they'd get put off their game. One time Fanny caught her and after her usual show of being appalled, preceeded to follow Silver and watch with giddy amusement at what expletives she'd come up with next.

"You've got more chance of getting that boyfriend of yours preggers before getting a hole in one!" She sneers at one balding guy in a pink polo.

"Oh I say! Which one is the boyfriend?" Fanny enquired.

"His caddy there. But I also saw him making googly eyes with the bellboy."

"Good heavens!" She looked like a kid on her first trip to Disney land.

"Silvy! Quick, you need to come with me." Kitty ran over and tugged at her arm. "Alison needs you at your bed."

She's confused yet intrigued as she follows the Georgian. Why would she need to be near her bed in the middle of the day? Why not talk in the room?

The answer is obvious once she enters the wood and looks at her spot.

Alison turns to smile at her before turning back to converse with the group of people standing before the mound of flowers. An elderly woman, a man and woman, along with two youths, a young woman and a teenage boy.

Silver held her breath as she walked, slowly, to get a proper look at them. It didn't seem real at first. She hadn't even allowed herself to dream of this moment.

"Mum?" She spoke before a woman in an orange cardigan. Hair now completely grey, looking smaller than she remembered. Tired.

Her brother was as she had recalled, only with less hair now and a few lines around his face. His wife, her sister in law, still stunning in her early forties.

"And look at you guys. All grown up." She said in awe as she stared at the girl in her early twenties. The last time she'd laid eyes on her niece, she'd been a baby. Not even old enough to talk.

They all seemed to be taking a moment of silence as they looked at the memorial site. Silver's mum made a comment about the sketch hanging in the frame from the tree.

"That is lovely. You must have been so close to Louise to catch her likeness so well." Her mum said, the name feeling so alien to her that Silver nearly mistook the comment for being about someone else.

"We only knew each other briefly, in school...Well, she and my friend's brother. But she was always lovely to me. You don't forget anyone like that." Alison gave Silver a quick wink.

Her mum then opened her purse and placed two little statues at the head of the bed. Silver gasped as she recognised them.

"Artemis and Pan...She kept them. All these years."

Robin had told her all her altar set up that she left here when she died had been taken by the police, presumably sent back to her family.

Her mum sighed, reaching to caress the drawing.

"I never understood her interest in this witchcraft stuff. Maybe if I had then...Oh I dunno if anything would have changed. But I wish I'd tried harder to get to know her when I had the chance." She admitted, sounding so old that it cracked Silver's heart in two; "I just hope that, if these gods of hers are real at all...They're taking care of her."

She sniffed, smiling and wishing she could touch her mum's shoulder.

"I didn't quite meet the gods, Mum. But I've got some people far better taking care of me. Don't you worry." Silver whispered, looking over her shoulder to see her new family all stood together, watching her with the warmest of eyes.

As she watches her family walk back to the car park, Cap comes to stand at her side.

"It must be wonderful to know your family still think of you after all this time. You must have been close." He says, rather matter of fact.

"We barely knew each other. That's how it felt for me." She confessed, folding her arms; "But yeah....it did feel pretty good."

"...I don't see any smile. Though I can never tell if I should with you."

She smirked at that, briefly; "It's just seeing how much they've changed. My mum's an old lady. My niece and nephew are grown. Don't even know what the rest of my siblings are up to. Everything changes...and for me it feels so fast...It's terrifying."

"How so?" He sounded genuinely curious to understand.

"One night I can go to sleep and then wake up to find one of you has moved on or Alison is no longer part of our lives...or some other big change that the rest of you dealt with weeks back. I haven't even really felt like I've aged in all this time. I'm..." She took a breath, loathed to admit it, especially to him. "I'm scared. Scared of what I might wake up to next...or rather what won't be there..."

"We all deal with that, soldier. We all take the risk, every time we sleep, of waking up to a different world to the one we knew before. We take a risk of changing everything for the worst in whatever action we take. Had I known my actions on V.E day would result in my death, would I have still done the same?...Yes."

Another little revelation that she'd found out after he'd told it to everyone else. She had been proud of him a little for finally, FINALLY coming out the damn closet.

"I hate it when you say wise things. So much easier when you're a bossy prat." She grinned, nudging him with her elbow.

"Hmm, yes. There is still plenty of that to come, in this eternity we're stuck together." He tapped her arm with his stick; "At ease, young lady. Its good to relax, don't you know."

Silver sniggered as he went off to talk to Pat near the golf carts. She looked to the sky, to Gaia all around, and took a deep breath.

"It's all right, Poppet. She's not going to bite your head off."

Humphrey's voice was the first she recognised upon awaking, her eyes still closed.

"Me no be so sure. Have seen her snap at Julian like big crocodile. He squeal like scared little girl."

Robin next. Who were they talking about her to?

"I just...It's a bit creepy. She just lies there all month? Nothing can wake her up?" Came a new voice. Young. Female, she presumed. But definitely new.

"We try shouting, we try scream, we try poking her with Captain stick, we try Kitty singing. Zilch!"

"She should be coming to any time now though." Said Humphrey.

True, she'd been prolonging it to keep overhearing more of what they were saying while thinking she was fast asleep. She couldn't keep that up forever, not without causing a panic.

Silver stirred, then stretched before sitting up.

"Here she come! Hey. Hey, wakey wakey!" A rough hand started shaking her shoulder. She batted it off in irritation.

"Robin, piss off! Gimmie a second to..."

She opened her eyes, seeing the figure stood at the foot of her bed. The young woman, probably around her age give or take, was holding Humphrey's head in both hands in front of her stomach. She blinked as she met Silver's eyes, looking partly in awe and partly wanting to turtle inside her black hoodie.

Robin was bouncing on his furry boots like a child at Christmas, pointing to the stranger.

"Look! New girl! Ha!" It was good to see him so thrilled. "Silver! Meet Stompy! Stompy, this Silver!"

"...Stompy?" Silver frowned.

"Amy." The girl corrected; "I'm...Amy. Hi..."

Silver looked at the girl's heavy boots that made her own feel incredibly dated. She beamed, a tiny ball of hope arising within her. A new ghost? One her own age instead of some cheating bastard having a heart attack on the green?

Maybe the gods were still looking out for her after all.

[shingia]

living together pt.1

↳ ushijima, bokuto, tanaka, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, kuroo

pt. 2

— USHIJIMA

• three words : ushijima’s morning voice.

• it almost startled you when you heard it for the first time, which doesn’t mean you didn’t fall in love with it. quite the opposite actually

• why do i feel like you guys would get a dog? idk it just feels right

• like a BIG dog that he could take with him on his runs!

• ushijima really enjoys grocery shopping with you but he’s absolutely clueless about what needs to be bought, so he always asks you before putting anything in the cart

• he does it so often that he doesn’t even need to ask anymore. he just picks something from the shelf, looks at you and waits for your approval

• if your apartment has a fireplace or a wood-burner then the living room will automatically become his favorite place to be

• your home is pretty tidy all the time, there aren’t many things lying around except for volleyballs that he tends to carry with him every minute of every day

• also, this man can cook. i just know it. he also hums when he cooks

• his breakfasts are rather sober but his dinners? out of this world every. single. time.

• please take decorating in hand, because it’s not his strong suit at all

• he’s always been used to sleep with only one pillow and regular covers but if you ever initiate him to plaids and textured pillows, there’s no going back 

— BOKUTO

• bokuto is h y p e d to live with you because he really loves the idea of sharing so many more moments with you than before

• your housewarming party was fire, but that also means your neighbors hated you from day 1

• and these poor neighbors have already complained many times about the noise. not for nasty reasons, but just because bokuto sings atrociously loud in the shower

• every once in a while he pulls off a note that’s surprisingly good, and immediately runs out of the bathroom, soaking wet (with or without a towel), just to make sure you heard it

• you guys really enjoy planning trips for your holidays together. but you always get too carried away and find yourselves looking up stuff like underwater hotel rooms at 2am

• most of your holidays end up being spent in your apartment anyways, at least until you guys are more financially stable. but trust me, it’s just as entertaining as a road trip

• “hey hey hey!!!!” everytime he gets home

• chores with bokuto are the absolute best because you always end up dancing together in whatever room you’re cleaning (again, a reason for the neighbors to complain because the music is loud)

• one of the advantages of living with you is that bokuto can ask for your opinion on his outfit before going out, and he does that every single day (and by asking for your opinion, i mean straight up modeling)

• he’s also demanded to have some kind of wall of fame where he could put his volleyball cups, and you couldn’t say no to his supplicant face

• but he’s also super proud of you and insisted on having many pictures of you, or at least the two of you, on the walls

— TANAKA

• living with tanaka is probably the best decision you have ever made. he’s like a husband material on crack

• most important rule: NEVER take him grocery shopping unless you won the lottery

• it’s not that he doesn’t care about money, he’s just the biggest victim of consumer society and advertising

• i can picture tanaka always wanting to try the dumbest things from 5 minutes crafts. and it never rarely works

• he’s not the best at cooking but he’ll try his best to learn from you or with you. and it turns out he’s not bad at cooking ramen

• he attaches a lot of importance to brushing his teeth with you every morning and every night, just because one of you usually ends up singing and everything becomes chaotic really quickly

• also, tanaka has already accidentally set fire to something but promised himself to never let you find out about it

• let me also tell you that if saeko likes your apartment, then it’s over for you guys. whatever you do, don’t give her a spare key

• obviously, sharing an apartment means that tanaka had to learn how to deal with being in the bathroom while you’re showering. and it took quite some time for him to function properly after getting out of there

• you can also be sure that he’ll try to mention the fact that he lives with you in every discussion. even if it’s with people who obviously already know that

• “alright noya, i’m going home, y/n must be waiting for me. y’know... since we live together now. yeah i know, pretty cool, right?”

— IWAIZUMI

• is SO GOOD at building furniture? even your neighbors asked for his help, he’s like the ikea master

• that’s one of the main reasons why he handled most of the move (that and his beefy arms)

• but all the shopping for furniture and decorations was done together

• he wasn’t sure whether he wanted oikawa to come to your apartment before you guys were properly settled in, but his teammate did not really leave him a choice and popped up at your front door one bright saturday morning

• iwa refuses to let you take the trash out when it’s dark outside because he’s really scared that something might happen to you

• i hc iwa as being pretty good at baking, and he really likes doing it with you. although i think he would definitely yell at you if you dipped your finger in the dough

• also, he’s grumpy af in the morning but a nice breakfast in your company is enough to make his frown disappear in no time

• another good way of lightening his mood is by asking him simple things like opening a jar for you. he’s aware that it’s a huge cliché but he can’t deny that it makes him feel super strong

• finally, i think iwa would enjoy living in a house that’s more on the rural side rather than living in the city. but since houses are more expensive, he’ll patiently save money and keep his dream house in the countryside in the back of his mind as something to work hard for

• but seriously let him have a backyard and he’s the happiest man on earth

— ATSUMU

• you guys moved in together pretty early in your relationship; many people thought it was a bit hasty but you two just knew that you’d make this work. it was a gut feeling 

• atsumu always talks about how great it is not to live with osamu anymore, but it actually takes him a few weeks to stop yelling his brother’s name as soon as he can’t find something in his stuff

• he has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless, only wearing a pair of sweatpants because he knows you’re really enjoying the view

• he grabs/smacks your butt everytime he passes you by, even if you’re on the phone with your boss (especially if you’re on the phone with your boss)

• living with atsumu is great, it truly is. but he can be such a child that it’s also really draining

• he has already thrown food at you while eating together, and then pretended he had no idea how that piece of bread ended up in your sweater

• also he blasts his music too damn loud in the morning which has already caused you to hit his head with a pillow until he accepted to turn it off

• he’s okay with sharing chores equitably, but you have to teach him everything. and i mean everything

• will take a thousand pictures (i’m not exaggerating) with you in your apartment and send it to as many people as he can, just to show off his new life and because he’s highkey super proud of living with you

• he definitely started using a stupid nickname to honor your new situation, so now he exclusively refers to you as his “sexy roommate” just because he knows it makes you blush really hard

• he also insisted on getting led lights for your bedroom. there, i said it. 

— KAGEYAMA

• takes him forever to get used to the idea of living with you, not because he doesn’t like it, but because it seems so surreal

• obviously lets you decorate everything from A to Z because kageyama can do many things, but decorating isn’t one of them

• it’s most probably his first time living without his parents and he really enjoys being able to do things that used to be forbidden in his house like eating his meals in bed or taking showers at ungodly hours of the night

• if he’s had a rough day, he will not care that a bed is waiting for him, he’ll sleep on the first flat surface he sees

•  kageyama definitely lets you cut his hair in your bathroom, but please for the love of god don’t let him cut yours

• however, if he really wants to repay you for cutting his hair, then you can definitely entrust him to take good care of your nails

• takeout is pretty frequent because you’re both too lazy to do the dishes

• if you two live in a big city, his morning runs will turn into recon missions to find cool spots where he wants to take you

• i hc kags at being surprisingly good at ironing, but at the same time not caring about wearing clothes that look like someone made origami with them

• on the other hand, he’s really struggling with the washing machine and it takes him months before using it without you

• and even after months or years spent living together, be prepared to still receive phone calls from him asking you where the salt is

— KUROO

• living with kuroo is surprisingly peaceful, at least when none of his friends are over (if they are, then welcome to hell) 

• mornings are usually the most peaceful time of the day, mainly because kuroo takes forever to wake up since he sleeps so well when he’s with you

• he often leaves post-it notes for you on the bathroom mirror with little messages for you. sometimes it’s “i love you <3”, other times it’s “we’re out of toilet paper <3″

• obviously you adopted a kitten and she’s treated like royalty (the most doting is definitely kuroo)

• when going out, he sometimes goes down the floors by sliding on the handrail of the stairs, your neighbors aren’t even surprised anymore

• you once told him that you really liked plants, and now your apartment looks like a freaking jungle because he buys you one every week and insists on naming every one of them

• since neither kuroo nor you want to do chores, you found a good way of deciding whose turn it was :

• “heads : the dishes are for you, tails : for me”

• and this man has incredible luck

• kuroo takes the longest showers but always smells divinely good afterwards. your water bill might not like that but you definitely do

• i can totally imagine him winking at you everytime he folds your underwear, he can’t help it

• like atsumu, he’d be the kind of guy to walk around the apartment half naked with a smug look on his face just to see you get flustered

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Money Troubles

Kuroo x reader, Bokuto x reader

Words: 1,8k 

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader has money troubles and the boys are so sweet about it 

A/n: Y’all this hits so close to home like I grew up really poor for a long time and if that is where you are right now, please know that things do get better and it is all going to be okay :) 

Kuroo

You and Kuroo had been friends forever and just recently made the jump from best friends to lovers and it honestly didn’t change much, except how often the two of you went out. Kuroo was always taking you out places and spoiling you rotten but you knew that you couldn’t do the same. There was no way that you could afford half of the things that he can but you have no idea how to tell him that. Every time he spends money on you you feel super guilty and bad because you can’t spend the same amount back on him and you had got him a nice gift for Christmas but that is just because you saved every last dollar to spoil him as best you could. He was your best friend and you didn't want him to have to worry about any of this but you also didn’t want him to think that you were cheap or taking advantage of him.

   The issue dwelled in your mind for weeks, you were unsure of what to say or do because you both had never gone out this often before. Tonight was your turn to choose what your date would be and you had made the easy decision, the only decision.

“So what will it be, princess?” Kuroo smirked at you from across the kitchen as he made himself a glass of water.

“Can we stay in and watch the show, Bridgerton, I’ve heard the most amazing things about it,” you smile at him trying to be convincing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” He questions as he refills his glass. It was almost a week before your next payday and you had $6 left so you really couldn’t afford to go out.

“I think staying home sounds like fun,” you lie, it’s been a stressful week and you knew he could see right through you so you avoided his curious gaze.

“Y/n, love, what is it?” He questions, unsure of your reasoning, “it was your pick and if that’s what you want to do we can go to the store and get snacks and make it a hell of a date night” he reasons with himself.

“No Kuroo that’s really okay,” you barely whisper.

“Hey, what is it?” He now is right by your side giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“It’s nothing Tetsuro,” you shy away.

“If it was nothing you’d be looking at me and told me that you wanted to go try that new Indian restaurant down the street, please y/n,” he says in a calm, loving way.

“You’re right, I would like to try it, but I can’t afford it Kuroo.”

“Why would you think that you’re paying?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Because you always pay, and I always feel bad because I don’t ever pay, and it’s not fair,” you huff at him.

“Y/n Y/l/n I pay because I can pay and because I want to pay and because I know you would never treat yourself to a nice meal even if you did have the money, which by the way is not something you should be embarrassed of. I spent the first two years of our friendship absolutely broke at all times, I slept on Bo’s couch for god sake and you have to be really desperate to do that. Trust me when I tell you that it’s okay, it gets better and once it does then you can bet your ass that I’m still paying for our dates because I have been waiting years to date you and now that I am I am going to spoil the shit out of you, okay? Okay. So get your ass dress we’re getting indian, end of discussion.”

You had no idea what to say or do, he really just said to hell with it and left the room to get ready so you were stuck sitting there alone with your thoughts. ‘How the hell did he know?’ You panicked, worried that this was why he decided to ask you out and date you and that he was going to get sick of you and sick of paying and want to leave.

“I am ordering two meals with or without you so get your ass ready or I’m gonna eat them both” Kuroo mumbles as he brushes his teeth.

You get ready and go out to dinner with him and have an amazing time laughing and eating together. A couple weeks after Kuroo gives you a little wrapped box with your name on it. It was a key to his house with your initials engraved on it.

“Y’know if you ever want to come over, or even” he is blushing a deep red, “or even, I know it’s early, but I’ve known you forever and I can’t see us ever I don’t know, breaking up, so unless you do, I mean, it would be kinda cool if we lived together.”

You sat there in complete shock, did Kuroo just ask if you wanted to move in with him?! You gave him the biggest smile ever as you nodded at him completely speechless.

“But you have to bring your furniture, it’s wayyy nicer than mine and we had our first kiss on that couch so it has to come too.”

And little did you know not only did you move in now mean that you live with your best friend 24/7 but you also don’t grocery shop and your rent is way cheaper because he’s lived there forever. He never once judged or made you feel bad for not being able to pay for things and if he was ever strapped for cash as well you had the best stay in movie nights ever.

Bokuto

Bokuto was a smart guy, sometimes. He may have his dumb moments but he always knew how much he spent and kept a good and accurate budget so he got to live a pretty care free life (it also doesn’t help that he got a volleyball scholarship that paid for his college and you have $500 a month payments) , you on the other hand weren’t as fortunate. It seemed as though all of your money was gone before you even got your check, between food, rent, phone bill, loans, and everything else that came with being alive your little paychecks seemed to dwindle down to nothing. It was something you wanted to change, and luckily you only had a couple months left on your loans because you chose to aggressively pay them off but you wish you didn’t sometimes so you could have a little bit more to spend on life and on Bokuto, you’re adorably loving boyfriend.

It was a day like every other, the two of you out and about doing dumb things around town when you decided to go to Starbucks together. You were extra excited to get apeppermint mocha and Bo was practically vibrating with excitement-and that’s before you give him caffeine. You get up to the counter and order before inserting your card… ‘decline’ the screen reads. You have no idea what to do and your face blushes a bright red.

Without hesitation Bo steps in front of you, orders his drink and pays for your drinks before you can even process anything. He turns and smiles at you and gives you a little kiss and wraps his arms around your shoulders as you go to wait for your drink to be done.

“Bo, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“Shhh look she’s adding the whip to your drink,” he bounces excitedly hoping that means his drink is next.

You get your drinks and go sit in those giant brown chairs that are the best and most comfortable spot in the entire place and you once again try and thank him for paying for your drink and explain but he stops you again.

“Y/n, lovey, it happens to all of us, okay? Don’t worry about it, seriously. I know you overthink things like this and I don’t want or need you to. We all do it sometimes and it is okay, hell I did it last week at the store, it happens, I’ve got you now and always, so don’t stress yourself out about it. You have a lot to pay for and a lot going on so I don’t want you worrying about the small things when there are lots of bigger things that need your attention, like me. I need your attention  and so having you focus on other things is bad for me and my ego, okay?” He smiles at you after one of the most uncharacteristic moments from him ever.

You just stare at him completely in shock that he just said all of those things to you.

“Ummm helllo earth to y/n,” he repeats two or three times as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry bo.”

“Can I pleaseee have a sip of your drink? I asked like four times but you were in outer space thinking about the stars or something, but that’s okay, you’re back on earth now, please can I have a sip, it looks so good,” he smiles at you, knowing that you were worrying about it and doing the perfect job of pulling you out of whatever trance you were in.

You let him have a sip of your drink and you get a sip of his (which was even more delicious than anything you’d ever had there). Bokuto continued the conversation and pretty much held up the whole thing and made you laugh the whole time.

The following couple of weeks you noticed that Bo was super helpful and sweet about everything financial and when you finally paid off your student loans he threw you the biggest “college is too expensive” party and celebrated life with you so much. Even after things got better for you he still was happy to pay for a lot of things and even admitted to you that he has been super duper broke too and it is just what happens in life, it happens to all of us and if he finds out that you have been worrying about it than he is going to come and cuddle you to death because he can’t stand the idea of you getting upset over nothing. (Even though he does it all the time, you are different because he wants you to always be happy)

[bitchesgetriches]

Hey auntie bitches, looking for advice and some encouragement.

My parents have been investing long term with a small business they trust, and although the owner who manages my parents finances is no longer taking new clients, her highly capable son is. My parents really want me to set up an appointment with him and get started with higher interest investments than the acorns app I was using. But the idea of it is giving me tons of anxiety. I don’t budget, I don’t track literally anything, my finances are a mess of fuel, Starbucks, Taco Bell, and cash withdrawals for “goods 🍃”. I’m not even sure what information he would want from me on our first meeting. I’ve been putting it off for months, cancelled my acorns membership as (not working) motivation. Do you guys have any advice on how I should prepare for our meeting and getting over the embarrassment of someone seeing a history of poor financial decisions?

Oh honey bunches of oats! I'm sorry you're dealing with all this anxiety and pressure. That's no fun at all and you have our absolute sympathy.

Reading between the lines, I'm guessing that your parents are trying to do a favor both to their friend (by hooking their son up with a new client) and to you. Nothing wrong with that. But it might mean that investing with your parents' friend's brokerage might not be the most ideal move for you right now. Especially not given the other information you've told us.

Set up the meeting. Talk to the guy. But tell him "Look, I know your specialty is investing. But I think what I need right now is a financial planner or advisor instead. My finances are a bit of a mess, and I'm finding it challenging to get ahold of it all. I'd like to create a plan that puts me in a better position to start investing on a larger scale. Is that something you can help with?" If not, no harm done! If yes, then great! He'll likely be incentivized to help you get your finances in order if he knows that at the end of that process you're going to start investing with his brokerage.

Don't be shy about sharing your financial woes with this guy. If he's a professional, then he won't judge. Bring him a few bank statements and credit card statements from the last few months, along with a budget or spending tracker if you have one. There is no shame in recovering from poor financial decisions. And anyone who makes you feel ashamed can be cut right out of your life... with our full permission and blessing!

Here's some more advice, honey:

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?

Ask the Bitches: Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?

[defensefilms]

Defense Films Lists His Favorite TV Characters Of All Time

5. Chris Partlow- The Wire

The ending of The Wire paints Chris Partlow as something closer to a serial killer. 

He wasn’t. None of his hits were done out of pleasure, curiosity or even impulse. Every one of those bodies helped the Stanfield organization become what they became, even the one on Michael’s stepdad.

What Chris represents is reliability and capability. The ultimate “get shit done” guy. Out of all the characters on the show, none were more dependable or crucial to the success of the institution they served. 

Lester Freeman was capable but not a good politician and ultimately a nuisance to his superiors. Bill Rawls was incredibly capable at his job but he was power hungry and ambitious. In season 5, Gus Haynes is the most capable man in the news office but the problem was that Gus questioned authority and didn’t “go with the flow” when the office decided the paper needed a “refreshing” of how they cover the local news.

Chris didn’t have any of these handicaps impeding the people he served.

He recruits the foot soldiers for the Stanfield crew, even training them himself and Marlo had something akin to a small army at his disposal as a result. He organized his sub-ordinates, handled all surveillance when Marlo’s crew was under investigation at the start of season 5 and took care of incoming shipments after they established a direct line to the Greeks. 

When the task required finesse or subtlety, like the time he stole Sergey’s picture from the court office, he was more than capable of that too. When Marlo is questioning how to address the murder of one of his dealers, he listens to Chris and chooses to retaliate on the perpetrator directly rather than targeting everyone on his corner. 

Marlo truly comes to rely on Chris in matters concerning Omar Little. Every step of how Marlo wants to get back at the near mythical larcenist, is first passed by Chris. Chris takes this as his number one job throughout the show. Anything concerning Omar is handled with brutal efficiency, tact and an almost out ouf place  sense of professional pride. 

That’s Chris’ most endearing quality. Through all the blood, guts, scheming, lying, betrayal that comprises Baltimore’s underworld, all of which Chris is very much a part of, he has a pride in how he approaches the day to day business aspects of what he does. 

Stringer Bell is arguably the best second-in-command in the show’s run but he was dishonest, ultimately harming the survival of the institution he served and damn near going rogue. 

Chris doesn’t share such qualities as blind ambition or selfishness. He understands that trust is all he has in this game. When the indictments eventually come down and Chris is facing a life sentence he doesn’t complain or even raise the possibility of turning state witness. Instead he ends up on the yard along side Wee-Bay. Marlo in turn makes sure that Chris’ people are taken care of financially.

Many of the men that serve in the various institutions depicted in the show could learn a thing from Chris Partlow. When the time came, he fell on his sword and did so in full acknowledgement that this is where it all leads. There’s a kind of honor in that.

4. Tony Soprano- The Sopranos

One of the biggest misconceptions about The Sopranos was that it was a story about a gangster. It wasn’t, or at the very least, that would be an over-simplification of what the story actually contained.

What it was was a story about a man and his family, both biological and criminal. That’s the tie the binds all of the story’s narratives together.

Another way of looking at Tony’s story is one of leadership. Having ousted his Uncle Junior from the seat of power, season 2 and onwards, as far Tony’s criminal life is concerned, focuses on what happens once you get to the top. 

While the show’s creators gave you plenty of grizzly, violent scenes, what leads to those is the story of a man struggling and failing at leadership. 

In every season, Tony has to deal with a problematic figure, employee or subordinate. 

Season 1 was his Uncle and the idea of old fashioned leadership. Then in season 2 it was the ever-acerbic Richie Aprile, representing a generation older than Tony’s, that still feels entitled to something. Seasons 3 and 4 gave us Ralph Cifaretto, the only one among the men I’m mentioning that actually earns his status and then in season 5, it was his cousin Tony Blundetto.

Each of these problems is uniquely stressful for Tony because of how they pull at the threads of both his family and criminal life. With the exception of his Uncle Junior, he kills all of them.

By that metric, Tony is in fact a very poor leader. 

He doesn’t really deal with the Richie Aprile problem because his sister beats him to it. He doesn’t willingly promote Ralph Cifaretto even though Ralph earns it and is the only one among the candidates with any real intellect and business savvy. In both the cases of Christopher Moltisanti and cousin Tony Blundetto, Tony allows favoritism and nepotism to cloud his judgement and ironically both those men die at Tony Soprano’s hands.

This paints a picture of a tyrannical man, slowly devouring everything around him because he’s got to be in control. Worse yet, his need to be in control doesn’t actually lead to smarter long term decisions or better people management.

Tony’s relationship with Ralph in particular is built on professional envy. He feels entitled to Ralph’s race horse winnings because “why should his subordinate benefit more from anything than he does?”. He then proceeds to take ownership of the racehorse itself without assuming any of the costs of owning the animal. Then to top it off, he steals Ralph’s girlfriend purely because he has the status to do it, even digging in to Ralph’s personal life in order to justify doing so.

Textbook mismanagement. Every type of managerial violation you could imagine.

So how does Tony handle it when an employee is actually being a problem on a criminal/business level?

He rewards Tony Blundetto’s deception after the Joey Peeps killing by letting him run an already profitable gambling joint. He promotes Christopher to “made guy” even with his drug problems being well known, and he promotes Bobby Baccalieri, partly at his sister’s behest and partly out of spite.

 It was fun to watch on screen but you’d hate to work for Tony Soprano.

How does that translate to his family? What kind of leader is Tony at home?

Season 3 does well at examining Tony as a father/paternal figure starting with his relationship with Jackie Jr, which is built on concern at first. Then later it starts to make Tony anxious. Before Tony decides to push nature towards taking it’s course, when Jackie runs afoul of men in Tony’s charge.

His relationship with AJ is also a bigger part of the show as the seasons go and it’s not much better in as far as the leadership or guidance that Tony offers. We can waffle on about AJ’s failings as a spoilt teenager but the real problem is that Tony doesn’t see himself in AJ. 

That’s the first step to any failure of leadership. An inability to find common ground or identify with the people you’re leading.

We won’t go in to how hypocritical it is because the entire way that Tony entered the mob life is because he himself was a mob prince and his father’s status definitely paved the way for him. 

Hypocrisy. That’s the other key to failure in leadership. 

All these negatives added up to make the most fascinating television character in over 20 years. A constant stream of contradictions and watching a man say one thing but do another was it’s own experience and you didn’t realize what a horrible human being you were watching until you saw the show over and over again. A scary observation that implies people are either blind or really comfortable with evil and narcissistic behaviour.

3. Noah Solloway- The Affair

Out of all the characters on this list, this one was hurt most by writers hitting a ceiling in how much they could say about the character or how much they wanted to say.  Divorced men don’t really have that much representation, so if you’re writing a character that so strongly linked to that one particular event in his life, you may hit a ceiling if you don’t actually have real life examples to work with.

They had the right actor, the right story and it was the right time in human history to tell this story, it just felt like they didn’t follow through on really speaking on the plight or rise of guys in Noah’s situation.

Anytime I watched The Affair, and unlike most, I was pretty loyal to it despite what reviews told me, I identified with Noah. All those other characters didn’t make sense to me the way Noah did.

The story begins with my man being stuck in a rut, the kind of middle age funk  married men tend to fall in to, so he drives out to visit some folks and while he’s there he happens to meet a baddie. Story of every man’s life. Only he does what you’re not supposed to do and sacrifices everything he has so he can be with the bad-bad. 

Then my mans starts popping off with his book writing, gets a publishing deal and in his 40′s, he starts achieving his highest career peaks. See this is important because it shows that the writers understood the subject matter really well, as well as the demographic they were talking about.

Then the next season, they go in to some murder mystery plot, Noah ends up in jail somehow, almost as if the writers and producers didn’t feel confident that they could tell Noah’s story without the theatrics/murder mystery element. 

The other danger that the writers probably didn’t want to indulge was rewarding the character with any kind of happy ending or positive outcome. Noah’s infidelity serves as the jumping off point to all of the story’s unfolding plots, mostly depicting the impact on the lives of his immediate family, a handful of which play out in sad dramatic fashion. So the writers likely felt like Noah couldn’t win at the end. 

In the 1930′s when gangster films were first being made, they would commonly feature PSA messages at the start warning against criminal behaviour. 1931′s “Little Caesar” starring Edward G Robinson, features a warning at the end that makes it clear the film’s producers and writers needed the character to go down in flames at the end, to prove the moral point that “crime doesn’t pay”. 

A writer’s moral obligation and the times in which they live can lead some to write the ending that makes a moral point rather than writing the most dramatic or honest ending. I think Noah Solloway kind of suffered from this.

I don’t know. 

There was a chance to explore modern men in a way that most stories fail to. They had the foundation. They knew enough about who and what they’re talking about. However it didn’t manifest in the telling of the story. 

I’m not saying Noah needed a positive ending, it’s just that the one we got was not the most fitting nor did it wind up ending the story honestly or even dramatically.

Noah Solloway should have got the Tony Soprano treatment in as far as how much the writers explored his inner world but instead the show’s creators decided it didn’t matter. They didn’t answer the question of why this happens to modern men.

If nothing else Noah Solloway can be a blueprint or foundation for those telling this story in the future.

 2. Ciro Di Marizio- Gomorrah

About as slimy and as low down as a television character can possibly be. Ciro represents Machiavellian criminality pushed to it’s extremes. 

When writers plot a character’s trajectory, they often fill it with moments that make the character more endearing. Exploring the relationship the character may have with a child, friend or spouse that makes you see the character’s more genuine/compassionate/likeable side. The writers of Gomorrah did plenty of that with Ciro.

However, they didn’t hesitate to show you just how off-the-rails and downright evil Ciro could be. 

What’s funny is that Ciro is defined by loyalty and servitude when the story begins. He is a capable captain and rises to 2nd in command when the Savastano family needs him to. However the death of his close friend and mentor changes him for the worse and he goes ham. 

What follows is betrayal and Ciro basically masterminding a coup of the Savastano clan but the levels of paranoia that his new found power push him to, make him question whether it was all worth it. The world burns around him and a kind of justice is restored when Gennaro is able to take back power and restore the Savastano name. 

That’s one aspect of the show that Ciro truly exemplifies in that he rises to the top but the throne never truly feels like it’s his.

He is Iago-like in his ability to understand the weaknesses of people around him. He proves himself more cunning, capable, strategic, murderous and even business-minded than almost every other character. Every character except for Pietro Savastano (the man he betrays) and Gennaro Savastano. 

The show goes to great lengths to put forth the idea that crime families in Naples are on the same level as the pope. True modern day monarchies. Royal families that have the power to benefit or harm anyone around them. People bow their heads to them when they walk in public and use reverential terms when addressing them. They will often have salons, jewelers  or restaurants cleared out so they can enjoy the establishment in ostentatious privacy. 

When you look at it like that, Ciro was always an outsider. The difference between just sitting on the throne and being born of the throne. 

In that way maybe Ciro’s story is about redemption. 

He eventually sides with Gennaro Savastano again, helping him get his wife and daughter back after they’re kidnapped. He does this by essentially lying to/duping a crew of young dealers from Florence to fund this hostage rescue and then he offers himself as a sacrifice when the Florentines demand blood.

At his best Ciro served the clan and went to great lengths to restore what he had destroyed. 

1. Marlo Stanfield- The Wire

Is there any greater?

Sure there are characters like Tony Soprano whose world and whose inner thoughts the audience gets more familiar and intimate with. Within the same shared universe as Marlo is a character like Stringer Bell and the writers of the Wire go to great lengths to understand and convey his moral conflict as a drug kingpin turned wannabe real estate tycoon. 

Marlo is something purer though. 

You don’t need to know his inner-most thoughts like Tony because his utmost desire is simple, he wants to be the top kingpin of Baltimore. What more do you want?

He does not share Stringer’s moral complexity because unlike Stringer he is not conflicted at all. He’s not a drug dealer playing businessman, he’s just a drug dealer and that’s all he ever wanted to be.

From the start of season 3, it was fascinating watching this man move about on the screen with a confidence reserved for the richest and most talented. Indeed Marlo proves he has both in bundles. 

He outwits the older drug kingpin in Stringer Bell by maintaining independence from the Co-Op. He matches Avon Barksdale’s war effort step-for-step after Avon comes home from prison. He outsmarts the wily, Proposition Joe in order to learn how to launder his money and then get access to the Greeks.

It was fascinating watching Marlo avoid pitfalls, monopolize Baltimore, out-think his older counterparts and grow his empire to the scope that he did. 

There’s a youtube video that compiled all of Marlo’s scenes from his 3 seasons on The Wire and it pretty much plays like a feature film. Watch it here if you dig Marlo as much as I do.

You’re not watching a drug dealer become a kingpin, or at the very least that’s what I believe. It has more to do with watching the younger generation upset the order, and in a lot of ways that’s what Marlo represents. From the moment Marlo shows up, all old agreements are null and void. He does this over and over again throughout his story. Constantly upsetting the order and establishing his own. 

Indeed Marlo isn’t aware that this is what he’s doing. He’s acting on ambition, arrogance and naivety. 

It speaks volumes that most of the characters on this list have on-screen relationships that explore their personalities, like the aforementioned Ciro’s relationship with his daughter. Marlo has none of that.

Marlo’s most revealing relationship is his rivalry with Omar Little, a man he only ever encounters once. The continuation of their feud happens because Marlo refuses to let any perceived slight towards him slide. One way of looking at what this shows is that Marlo is both egoist and perfectionist, the latter of which is actually very prized personality traits in today’s business environment. The combination of the two is actually commonly seen among CEO’s and top executives.

Marlo shows every weakness and drawback of youth while exposing the follies of the more seasoned and experienced in his field. A walking contradiction in that way.

[dr-nero-is-god]

i felt the urge to riff on the hive streams for a little bit since discussion came up on the hive discord, namely, holding issue with the idea that the alpha stream is inconsistent in that it is about leadership when otto is the only leader, and that it’s also possible that the alphas are just kids with specialized skills, and not actually bonded by any particular unifying element.

and, in response, @vulpix-sinistre brought up a quote from the abridged hive fanfic, that goes something like: “there are four streams: main characters, stereotypical bullies, ?, and nerds.”

and i disagree with the first two ideas, but almost completely agree with the abridged fic quote. that is pretty much how the streams work, and it is IMPORTANT that that is how the streams work. 

in the end, you may conclude that the streams system still doesn’t make sense. you won’t be like “well clearly dr. nero was just logically dividing the labor of his students to reflect a specialized training program” because it’s more complicated on that. i  hate to do this to y’all, but a lot of everything streams-related requires an out-of-book explanation to get where you’re going, but i can promise that i will at least try to go

first, let’s think about why h.i.v.e. would have streams at all

on the one hand, it’s inescapable to consider that one primary reason that hive has streams is because harry potter had houses, and for the same reason that percy jackson had cabins, the 39 clues had branches, hunger games had sections (or counties, idk), divergent had factions, and so on and so on. the rise of fandom spaces on the internet was concurrent with a big ya/mg boom in the post-2005 world (after twilight was published), and within those fandom spaces it became important to identify with an aspect of the fantasy world as part of your personality. that became a very marketable thing for a while, and so separating children into streams would, to a publisher, seem like a pretty solid storytelling choice.

however! the alpha stream is not the same as gryffindor house. on the one hand, it seems easy to make an alpha/gryffindor and henchman/slytherin parallel, because one group is good (relatively) and one is bad (or at least antagonistic). but it doesn’t work because while slytherin has a reputation for constituents of poor moral character (which has been largely revised in fanon), being a henchman is where you go, according to the books, if you are unintelligent and burly. it’s not a really sexy stream, is what i’m trying to say. and though there are undoubtedly some readers who would look at the henchman stream and see themselves, i think the majority of readers would likely find the henchman stream a completely undesirable stream to be in. 

and, given how little importance the role of streams have after the first book, i will go out on a limb and say that mark walden knows that the henchman stream is unsexy. we aren’t interested in the hopes and dreams and motivations of the henchman stream; as we learn in book two, the ideal henchman is weak-minded and easily led—so what dreams would they even have? this leads me to conclude that while mark walden might have sold h.i.v.e. on the “there are personality-based groups in the school!” idea, he had something completely else in mind when he started writing and that, I think, is actually far more interesting.

but really, why would h.i.v.e. have streams at all

a few things about mark walden: 1) he studied english lit in school, 2) he has a background as a video game producers, and 3) he likes james bond. i know the first two things because i have read his bio and i know the third thing because i have read his books in conjunction with seeing all the james bond films. so we will call 1-3 facts. 

if you are wondering what a lit degree, video game production, and the james bond franchise all have in common, then let me connect those dots: all three of those things depend heavily on the study and understanding of repetitive structure in storytelling as an interpreter and creator of meaning. each one of these fields requires an understanding of how stories and words work to create meaning in order to be successful. 

and, to quote mr. walden here directly (sourced from this here link):

“So, I was playing with this cat one day and it got me thinking that those old-school Bond villains always just seemed to appear out of thin air with very little back story and that got me thinking about how they became world- conquering megalomaniacs in the first place.  It was only a short mental walk from there to HIVE.”

so, imagine you’re a writer trying to tell a story about a school for villains like those in james bond—you’ve studied storycraft and you have a lot of experience in a job finding believable and compelling obstacles for people to interact with in video games. you have noticed patterns. and you need to make those patterns work for you.

enter: streams

i have watched all the james bond movies (all of ‘em) (i mean it) (just not the unreleased one yet lol) and you know what? 

there’s probably just about four kinds of villains in those movies.

henchmen include the likes of jaws, oddjob, and tee hee. often physically disabled in a cinematically interesting way, these guys are the muscles and the machines in every bond film. they are the ones who tail bond as he takes long train rides and who try to personally throw him into shark tanks. they are the hands and feet of their evil masters and they don’t have a lot of emotional depth or backstory. 

politicians/financiers abound in the james bond franchise because he is a government employee who often hangs out with other government employees (he has no friends). these people are like colonel rosa klebb, georgi koskov, prince kamal khan. there are a lot more, as a matter of fact, because the whole point of james bond is that they are in the cold war and even people without titles have political and financial motivations for screwing around with stuff. these types of villains depend on being well and truly embedded in an existing infrastructure or hierarchy, somebody who worked their way up from being a foot soldier or clerk into a powerful leadership position that gives them a lot of state-sanctioned trust and authority.

technicians and inventors include folks like henry gupta and boris grishenko, who use technology as their primary weapon. they are often inventors or innovators and are really good at making high-tech stuff. however, i think this stream is also a direct result of the character Q, someone who is actually on James Bond’s team and who runs an entire department of people who test sometimes outlandish gadgets for Bond to use in the field. (but we love the gadgets. they are fun.) in other words, Bond arguably has a technical stream at his disposal in MI6, which means the idea isn’t necessarily evil, but, likewise, our James Bond School also needs Qs. it’s the rules. if you are familiar with Q from James Bond at all then you understand

and that leaves us with alphas... the “supervillains.” these are the famous ones. dr. no. mr. big. scaramanga. le chiffre. blofeld. max zorin. emilio largo. goldfinger. these are the ones with the master plan, the dreams to recreate the world as they see it, the passion to see their desires to fulfillment and the resources to make them happen. they are rich. they are fancy. they are larger than life. is it weird that karl stromberg tries to incite a nuclear war between Britain and the USSR so that a lot of people can die so that he can colonize the ocean? yes. but by god, it’s fancy and dramatic, and that’s what counts. 

are there other kinds of villains? oh, definitely. lots more. but you have to understand, that those kinds of villains generally don’t appear in Bond. sometimes! but it’s not a staple. for example, not many people in the bond films are motivated by revenge because each movie is kind of designed to function as a one-shot. villains don’t come back and so there is no revenge. the villain who gets the most notable reprise, jaws, actually ends up finding his true love in space. 

compare: every movie is going to have henchmen. every movie has government stooges making morally questionable decisions. (almost) every movie has Q, or some gadget stuff going on. and every movie has a big bad that has to be better than the last. 

so that explains why the streams are what they are. 

it was a jumping-off point for mark walden to figure out what this universe might look like and how different character types need to function. consider that while the core four are all alphas and are kind of insulated as a group, the teachers all kind of roughly align with one of these groups. colonel francisco, raven, and chief lewis are henchmen types, doing on-the-ground work to get stuff done. ms. tennenbaum and the contessa are political af, they are all about the corruption and infiltrating institutional power. ms. gonzales, ms. leon, and professor pike all have technical skills that help keep an organization moving forward. and over them all is the singular alpha, dr. nero, who is coordinating and monitoring it all for his own evil plan: to run a high school.

honestly, dr. nero’s hive idea operates just like a james bond villain plot! it works, or it does when pitching the idea. the problem is that the books continued after the pitch did, and with worldbuilding came some complications. namely, the fact that the megastructure of james bond villainy does not replicate well into a small friend group on which the narration focuses. so let’s return to the question presented at the beginning:

how can alphas really be alphas when not everyone on the field trip can be a mastermind?

i’m gonna give this to you in two ways. one, the way i personally interpret it as an in-universe explanation, given the background premises we have already established. and the other, why the stream system kind of ruins the structure it sets out to create.

so, for me, the alphas can be alphas because there is more to villainy than being a mastermind and there is more to being a mastermind than being in charge. as i think about it, this novelization is actually the backstory for every one of the students, who will go on to do great and scary things. they will manage big projects and come up with interesting ways to terrorize the British government, because that is what James Bond villains do (and James Bond does canonically exist in their universe). much like your actual teenage years, this is not the main event.

as students, the core four need to learn to do a little bit of everything. you gotta learn some lock-picking, that’s essential. everyone has to be able to climb a rock wall. it’s the rules. and everyone needs to be able to do some programming. that’s just the way school is. though everyone has a different personality and a different way of looking at the world, their education has to cover the basics because the fact of the matter is, none of them are villains yet. will they become one? that remains to be seen. but they are being given the tools to become the greatest villains if that is something they choose. 

the main problem that remains when holding this attitude is that the specialized skills of otto and his friends might be better suited to other streams, in which case, what is an alpha anyways?

here’s the facts: if everyone were assigned to a stream by talent, then there wouldn’t be an alpha stream.

franz? political/financial stream. 

nigel? laura? otto? technical stream.

shelby? wing? henchman stream. 

you can debate me on the specifics of those assignments, but the point is this: all the other streams are based on hard skills. franz can manage a ledger and that is a financial skill. laura can build a computer from scratch and that is a technical skill. wing can do martial arts, and each martial art is a physical skill that can be taught and performed in a measurable level of proficiency. 

the idea of being a “mastermind” is a much softer skill—which is to say, there’s no one recipe that will make it work. my manager at work has coached me by saying that leadership is often about having a “style,” and working at it that way. leadership requires interpersonal flexibility, being able to stay organized and to make important decisions rapidly, it is about being able to prioritize and delegate. and it’s very much open to interpretation, every day, all the time. 

let me tell you something else about james bond: there is a lot of classism, racism, and sexism embedded into every aspect of those films, but that goes for double when it comes to the villains in the show. to vastly oversimplify that very concept, it shows up in the bond films like this: henchmen are working class folks, the villainous equivalent of “the help,” and the supervillains are (usually) rich and glamorous and powerful. henchmen are uneducated (read as: stupid) and ugly and poor. no one cares if they die. (there’s more complexities, as always, but this essay isn’t actually about james bond so we’ll fast forward through My Opinions to the end)

the problem with replicating james bond in your villain school universe is that some of the biases of the james bond universe get replicated in there, too. poor and uneducated folks get turned into disposable henchmen whose lives are irrelevant. people who are educated and talented get fast-tracked to a more glamorous and interesting stream that will catapult them to the top of the ladder as soon as they graduate. if you look at the dialect with which block and tackle are written, they are clearly meant to be seen as a different social class than otto, despite the fact that otto is coming from basically nothing. and we understand that when otto graduates, he will be able to do basically anything that he wants to at all.

so, if you’re asking why wing has a role in the alpha stream when he doesn’t seem as leader-y as otto, there’s a simple answer: because dr. nero believes that wing can be more.

the climax of book one is dr. nero explicitly telling otto, wing, laura, and shelby that they are in his school because he believes in them and he wants to see them grow. they are given an elite status other students do not have despite the fact that they have just literally tried to escape. as we see in the case of duncan cavendish, the main way to get on that highway to a guaranteed career is to convince him that you’ve “got it.” for those who are not believed in, there is no way to make up for the special grooming. you’re stuck with the stream you’re placed in, doomed (perhaps) to be a second-in-command at best.

is all this intentional? probably not. but it is implicit in the structure of the story and, alas, that’s the way it is.

all i can think to say in conclusion is that while the stream system tends to replicate some of the unfair and classist realities present in other media and the world we live in, i think part of the reason we read h.i.v.e. is because the alpha stream is so appealing. imagine! you are competent and you have a desirable, specialized skill as well as a proficiency in many general skills and you are certain you are going to do good things—and all because someone believes in you. to receive someone else’s support and confidence can be life-changing. the magic of h.i.v.e. is that yes—lives are changed and ordinary, boring people were elevated to the level of supervillains. we are only left to wonder, are they the only people who deserved that honor?

[everydayeveryday]

How to find your One True Love by Bo Sanchez

“Never make decisions when you’re discouraged. Make decisions only when you feel about yourself.”

“It takes time to discover your happiness. What may give you so much happiness later may, in the short-term, give you misery. So discern well.”

“We think that God’s will is found out there, somewhere in the stars. That’s not true. God’s will is found within.”

“Never choose in the presence of useless fears. First banish fear, and then choose out of love.”

“The success and the failure of your life is really up to you.”

“Marriage requires a lot of hard work, humility, patience, sacrificial love and the other stuff that we call character. And frankly, I feel that many singles don’t spend enough time growing their character.”

“You need to take a brutal inventory of your life, so you know what inner areas of your life you need to grow. And commit yourself to relentless spiritual and character growth.”

“Where there is no clarity of purpose, no great thing will be achieved.”

“I’ve long learned that God’s universe simple responds to what we want - clearly, repeatedly and passionately.”

“You don’t get the partner you deserve. You get the partner you think you deserve.”

“We teach people how to treat us - good or bad.”

“Unless he stands up against this manipulation, he’ll always feel trapped.”

“Unless they heal the wounds of the past, they will have a difficult time looking for and accepting a man in their lives.”

“Religious people can also be distancing themselves from potential spouses by insisting on rigid standards of religiosity that have nothing to do with real spirituality maturity.” 

“We looked and stumbled upon different people, and though they made us happy, they didn’t make us complete. For in the end, only you can make me whole, and only I can make you whole. And because we were meant to be for each other, no matter what we did or where we went, fate would bring us together. And on that historic day, I saw you. And my life has never been the same.”

“The more guys you meet, the better the possibilities - not only for marriage, but also for getting to know yourself, getting out of your shell, getting to know how to relate to the opposite sex and getting to serve others.”

“The more choices you have, the better for you.”

“I repeat: Praying is important. Trusting God is essential.””“Single life is a fantastic time to really live! To grow. To become the best person you can ever become. To experience all that life has to offer. Learn new skill, develop your interests, serve the poor, build new business, sell stuff, organize groups, meet new friends and do stuff together.”

“Because you don’t want to fall in love with someone you can’t be friends with.”

“Don’t get stuck with your type, because “your type” usually comes from your weakness - not from your strengths.”

“Sometimes, your “type” is your homing instinct kicking in. That means you’re trying to recreate your childhood home, even if “home” was problematic or painful.”

“When you can’t confront, you’ll be attracted to someone who doesn’t want to be confronted. It works like magic. You’ll be attracted to selfish guys who may be hiding big problems in their lives.”

“My point is to be careful whom your heart is attracted to. Don’t immediately follow your heart, but open yourself to people who are not your type even if, at first, you’re not attracted to them.”

“Never play with the heart of a woman. Never, never, never. I’ve seen some guys who like treating women extra special, saying stuff like “I really like you”, and “I feel very happy when I’m with you.” But they have no intention of pursuing her. These guys are sick.”

“And even if you had a lousy first meeting (as many first meetings usually are), try to give him a second chance - because people are multi-faceted, and he may show another side of himself that you’ll like.”

“You accept that there are still risks of getting hurt when you like someone (even just on a friendship level) and he doesn’t invite you again, it will still hurt. But that’s life. Unless you open yourself to the possibility of rejection, you won’t also open your possibility of rich friendships. Through these experiences, you’re forced to mature to the point where your self-worth does not depend on whether someone likes you, but whether you like yourself and believe that God loves you unconditionally.”

“But sometimes, it’s not so much the number of men, but their own psychological readiness. Going to a new place and having a new experience creates psychological changes in the person - making her ready to accept marriage.”

“It takes a moment to experience infatuation but true love takes a lifetime.”

“Listen. You don’t need a magical first moment to meet your potential husband. The important things are mature character, financial responsibility, the ability to commit, compatible mission and values.”

“Because ladies, you don’t pursue men. You become attractive - and they pursue you.”

“The best sex appeal isn’t in your clothes but in your personality, your playfulness, your love for life.”

“When a woman has a positive outlook in life, she’s a magnet.”

“Fill your life with joy. Learn how to live life to the full. Besides, guys will have a hard time approaching you if they see you angry, depressed, moody, critical and negative. But happiness attracts.”

“It isn’t success that intimidates these good guys. It’s arrogance. When your success makes your head swell and you look down at everyone, you’re a major turnoff. It’s not your money or position. It’s the way you allowed money or position feed your ego. Be approachable. Listen to others. Acknowledge your ignorance outside your expertise. Ask help! Be soft and vulnerable. Be teachable. And most importantly, serve the small people. Be humble.”

“The key to being interesting is to be interested.”

“Have passions. Have beliefs/ Have preferences. From the very start, be your best self, but be yourself nonetheless.”

“A man will always hunger after what seems to be out of his reach. And he will value that which he sacrificed a lot to gain. And he will hold of little value to things he gained easily. In other words, a man is attracted to a woman who’s not looking for a man (in a desperate way). So allow him to pursue you.”

“Men get flattered that they’re being chased. But their eyes wander, looking for other prey hiding in the bushes far away.”

“You get what you settle for.”

“Run away from the guy who needs you to straighten out his life.”

“Emotional health means owning up to these weakness and working on them every day of our lives.”

“Mr. Right doesn’t have to be emotionally whole. (No one is.) Mr. Right just has to be on the journey - taking concrete steps to emotional health. If he’s not even in the journey, pass him up.”

“It’s not how much you earn, but how you multiply the savings of what you earn.”

“There are no guarantees in life, but if you marry someone who is morally upright today, the probability is high that he’ll morally upright tomorrow.”

“I’d choose a man whose faith is expressed in his morality rather than in his religiosity.” 

“Because true love sets the beloved free. This is the one weakness that destroys friendships faster than others: The desire to control others.”

“Because who you are  still speak more loudly than what you say.”

“He says that true love begins only when one falls out of love. Because true love has to be willed. There’s got to be a decision involved. While you’re in love with someone, love is involuntary. You just love. (The feeling of love falls on you like a brick from the sky hitting your head - wham! - and you don’t  know what hit you.) But when you fall out of love, and you still make a choice to love, then that’s the beginning of true love. And that’s the basis of marriage. Not romantic love.”

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Finale pt. 1

This finale chapter is getting so long so as a gift I thought I give you guys the first 5k. 

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th.

His atop a precipice.

A vantage point where all things come into view.

Where the decision to plunge himself into the abyss invites him in like a gaping wound but he chooses the latter a dance around the hardwood.

A dance.

Is that all it is?

Love and life a mere tango between two forms battling for governance; for the lead. The notion of control dangling in the air like some token of chance, a lucky charm, a rabbit’s foot. He’s frozen. Paused. In mid-air transition.

A live wire at a stop light waiting for the green. A brethren of the craniate in the peril of deoxygenation, mere seconds away from contorting his skeletal structure into hyperextensions.

He inhales.

Shoulder and neck slanted on an incline. He pushes towards gravity and lets the slab of maple [swish] the surface. The wheels of his board drawing everlasting as he brushes figure eights. The male body truncating in the air like an oversized bolt drilling down a sealed vault. His thoughts [swirling] through him like a polar jet stream. Icy and ferocious. Early day discussions on fast forward and repeat.

“I need my meds recalibrated doc” Sander mumbles out.

“Hmmmm” The doc sounds apprehensive.

“It looks like you have had a recalibration every year for the past 3 years.” The doc thumbs through Sander’s medical chart.

“Are you sure this isn’t a symptom of all the stress you’ve been under? The grand opening tonight? The financial pressures?”

“NO!….I mean yes, but no, I’ve been edgier than usual but that's not why” Sander states adamantly.

“Plus, I'm having trouble sleeping.” Sander tacks that one for good measure knowing if anything they will re-up his sleeping aids.

They weren’t all lies he thought to himself as he swung like a pendulum from side to side on the crown jewel. Loud cheers and celebratory adorations coming from the gallery space; breaking him out of his reflections. He can’t avoid the crowd much longer. The party is in full swing and he needs to go make the rounds. Poetic discussions about his vision await him; descriptions about the counter duality of dark and light, functional or utilitarian, for profit versus non profit but he wasn’t in the mood. He was proud of himself, he knew that much and though he relished in his attendees jovial shoulder taps and glass raises it all felt empty. His exterior soaked up in white lies when questioned about the space's interior. His slapstick smile perfected to compliment his  pheasant plumage as he peacocked around the room; hosting duties increasingly onerous as the guest list questioned him about the young hot shot architect that he had collabed with to create such an impressive view.

“Can we meet him?” They’ll ask, but they won't be able to.

He bailed, or so that’s what he texted Sander that morning. His usual slew of excuses that he hid behind as to why he couldn’t make it back to Antwerp. Back to Sander. Same reasons as to why he’d always be the first to drop off on a conference call between him, Sander and the contractors. Why he’d walk the space with everyone but his counterpart. Purposefully avoiding displays of patronage or binary settings on life’s stage. An agenda via obstruction; creating an alternative universe in which the skater boy and his artist were destined to miss each other every time.

As Sander continued to surf the half pipe the laws of thermodynamics began to dilute his intentions. Velocity and gravity leaving him as the wheels underneath screeched to a halt cutting off the tracings of eternity he had swiveled onto the plywood.

It was time for the dog and pony show.

Time to hot trot around man made obstacles displaying prowess in form. Sander kicked up his board and walked off the ramp’s flat and jumped down onto the cement floor. Leaving the amber coated world that housed a statuesque half pipe in the backdrop with the autograph R+S marred onto its body when he heard the [click] of a lock. He’s body instinctively flinched as the knob to the door twisted open and the sounds from the other world serenaded their shangri-la.

Sander took a step back as a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the tattoo shop’s working space. Hues of black splaying across the cement finish. Sander’s eyesight travelled from the floor to the figure holding onto the door and gave a mocked laugh in disbelief.

Robbe took another step forward, let go of the door, and let it slam shut. Instantly killing off the volume from the outside. Entering the space where the other half of a war torn love story survived.

The story of a pair of star crossed lovers enveloped in a love quagmire.

-

Robbe cranked the lever.

The car door flew open.

“Careful there. If you don’t treat it well you’re going to break it” Luc teased out to Robbe.

Robbe pushed himself off Luc’s ride, his body seesawing between two worlds when he stepped out onto the pavement.

The night was inviting. The spirits of the dead were amongst the living. Or so, that's how the legend goes..

Of course Sander would choose ole hallows eve to host his Grand Opening. It was fitting for him. A night wrapped up in the witching hour. Where the spirits of the past are able to walk side by side amongst those prepared to sin. Unknown entities, ghouls and those who feed off the darkness of others dancing around the room whispering bad intentions into well intentioned beings.

This night was a trap but neither of them knew it yet.

“Can you hold this?” Robbe asked Luc as he handed him two black frames wrapped up carefully with black tissue paper to protect the glass from any scratches. He took a moment to fix his black shirt and ruffled out his black mid length pea coat and then took back the frames off Luc’s hands.

Robbe noticed Luc’s slight displeasure at his primping and quickly readjusted the frames underneath his right arm and went to grab Luc’s hand with his left.

“Hey don’t get in your head. Ten minutes and we are in and out and then we can go to dinner with my mother. I know it's weird but Jann is a client who owns a ton of other businesses and it’d be stupid of me to mess up future possibilities. This is strictly business nothing else.”

“Promise?” Luc questioned.

Robbe narrowed his brow and tilted his head to one side in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Luc tipped his head downwards and plastered on a fake smile in agreement. Luc squeezed his lover’s hand and they walked towards the shop's facade as the Halloween vibes speed skated around them and the veil between two worlds began to thin.

“ROBBEEEE!!!!!” Jann screams out amongst the crowd.

“You came” Robbe gives Jann a little wave as he walks over to Robbe clearly a little intoxicated enjoying the celebrations. Jann was the majority investor in Sander’s tattoo shop and someone he and Sander had known for years. Jann was practically a giant. He towered over the crowd at 6’5ft (195cm). He claimed his height was a genetic trait of being born in Eindhoven. He was in his mid fifties but you would never be able to tell. He was covered in full sleeve tattoos and wore his black t-shirt and leather pant uniform everyday since the first day Robbe met him on his 18th birthday.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It was such a pleasure working with you.” Robbe schmoozed him.

“Jann this is my boyfriend Luc. Luc this is Jann he is the investor in this project and the poor soul who trusted me not to mess it all up” Jann roared out a half drunken laugh and gave Robbe a slightly to forceful pat on the back.

Jann leaned into Robbe’s neck which caused Luc to raise a brow and began whispering secrets at a low volume.

“We got approved” Jann confirmed. Robbe looked up at him and pointed his index finger downward towards the white floor of the gallery space. Jann shook his head in confirmation and continued to add on.

“And the community park license so we can teach lessons out back in the skate park” Robbe’s face lit up like a light bulb. He never thought the crazy plan he concocted months ago would actually work. His idea to try to register the gallery and public park as charity spaces actually came through and most importantly saved Jann a ton of money meaning he wouldn’t try to refurbish them into business spaces anytime soon.

Robbe scanned his white surroundings in attempts to find a mop of lunar hair sticking out but nothing in sight.

Jann noticed Robbe scanning the room so he pointed him towards the back.

Robbe excused himself for a moment and as he walked towards the back of the tattoo shop Jann yelled out.

“Robbe don’t forget about our appointment to cover up that shoulder tattoo. It's on the house.”

Robbe didn’t even acknowledge Jann as he transitioned from the white gallery space to the tattoo shops black working space. His all black outfit practically blended him into the wall paint. He got to the back door and twisted the handle. It was locked.

He twisted the bolt and heard it click.

As he pushed his body into the third space the amber earth tones consumed him and as serendipity should have it Sander was waiting for him.

Robbe took one more step forward and let the back door slam shut. It felt like all of sudden him and Sander were stuck in zero gravity.

In some type of suction vacuum where oxygen was limited.

“Hi” Robbe tried to cheerfully break the ice but that was short lived.

“What are you doing here? I thought you bailed?” Sander’s tone was loaded with so much poison that it stung Robbe.

“Well I changed my mind. I thought it’d be nice to finally see the finished product. You know since Jann, you and I have spent so many months working on it.”

Robbe was nervous. He kept fiddling with the frames. It felt like Sander’s gaze was dismantling him.

“It looks great by the way. The contractors did a great job. I mean it looked great when I walked the space last month with them but it's really impressive now that it's all done.”

“You were totally right about keeping the layout white, black and into earth tones. Oh and I brought you a gift.”

Robbe tired to hand Sander the frames but Sander made a hands all full gesture as he held up his Element skateboard. Sander walked over to a table that looked like it had been set up for drinks placement and slid his board underneath it.

“Just put the frames on top. I’ll grab them later.” Sander directed Robbe.

“I didn’t know you still had the old Element I brought you.” Robbe stated.

“Old habits die hard.” Sander threw back at him.

Robbe just shook his head up and down in agreement.

Robbe looked out towards the ramp and just took it all in for a moment.

“Remember when we went to go get this thing from that crazy guy in Ghent…..” and before Robbe could even finish the story Sander cut him off.

“I thought you were here for business? Or are you ready to go down memory lane now?” Sander’s tone made it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood for Robbe’s fake banter.

Robbe turned his body to look directly at Sander. It always took both of them aback how each other's gaze always felt like they were baring their souls to one another.

Robbe and Sander could find so much tranquility in one another and yet so much turbulence at the same time.

Robbe finally broke the silence.

“I should have told you about my boyfriend”

Sander’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip. Robbe recognized this gesture; Sander was pissed.

“So, why didn’t you?” Sander shot back.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you cared. You never called me after the last time I saw you.”

Sander enunciated the next part.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

He then repeated himself again.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

“I am sorry that I’ve been busy trying to make one of the most important business deals of my life happen and didn’t have the time to fucking wait on you hand and foot.”

Sander ran his hands over his face to calm his temper. His cup runneth over with emotion.

“If you weren’t so damn selfish you would have realized I am stressed out of my damn mind. I literally have no money because I sunk it all into the shop and that I could easily lose everything if things don’t go well but of course you wouldn’t get that since you’ve never made those types of sacrifices for anything in your life.”

Robbe was really biting his tongue. He knew Sander was just stressed out and venting at him but Sander knew very well that Robbe had made those types of sacrifices time and time again for him above anyone/anything else.

“I think I should go” Robbe stated.

“I think you should go too. We should try to keep this little arrangement copacetic.”

Robbe turned his body to head for the door when Sander just couldn’t leave it alone.

“You were never one to stay anyways”

Robbe turned back to look at him knowing very well that Sander was harping on their esoteric love sonnet.

“I always knew you didn’t really have any fight in you” Sander was just slicing knife wounds in Robbe now and they both knew it.

“You know why I didn’t call…..”

Robbe looked straight at Sander. His beautiful brown eyes pleading with him to stop. Sander was starting to drag their love into purgatory but his impulsive need to punish Robbe apexed and Sander ran the spite laced knife right through Robbe’s heart.

“You were right. There is no us.”

He was reveling in the pain.

“There hasn’t been for a long time….and there’ll never be again.”

Sander drew out the knife from Robbe’s heart.

His hands coated in disgrace allowing his love to bleed out right in front of him.

It surprised Sander when he saw Robbe’s eyes darken and glaze over. It scared him. He got the reaction he wanted but seeing it materialize in front of him instantly made him want to take Robbe in his arms and tell him that he didn’t mean it but before he could even react Robbe ran out the door. Practically running over Jann in the process.

“Where is Robbe going?” Jann questioned.

“I told him it would probably be better if he left. He’s just so selfish”, Sander answered back.

“What?” Jann looked genuinely astonished.

“Jann stay out of it. It's none of your business.” Sander forgot who he was talking to.

“Look, I’ve known you two since you were a pair of teenagers getting sappy tattoos for one another so whatever it is, fix it, but more importantly this is my shop. So everything that concerns it is my business. Do you understand that? ”

Jann rarely took on the authoritarian stance he was exuding now. So Sander knew he meant it.

“I understand”

“Good because tomorrow I am calling Robbe and offering him the Brussels project for next year and if you happen to not fuck up before then I may get you in on it too”

Sander gave Jann a head tip in understanding.

Jann heads for the door to leave Sander to stew when he decides to teach him a lesson.

“Oh and next time, why don’t you check the books before calling someone selfish. That selfish kid ran around for months trying to get the right paperwork so we could get on the right registry to save thousands in taxes and his boss called me today letting me know he forfeited his personal architect fee. Something about he had a prior agreement with you that he wanted to honor.”

Point taken.

Sander practically felt like Jann had slugged him in the face. He quickly exited the amber coated world and ran past the black and into the white gallery space. Sander could hear he’s friends calling out his name and people tugging at him to get his attention but he just wanted to catch up with  Robbe before he left.

He finally made it outside but the street was empty, dead, comatose.

“Fuck” Sander yelled out in frustration.

“You just missed him” Sander turned around to find the voice speaking to him.

A brown-eyed beauty stood in front of him. You’d swear she could be a doppelganger for a young Zendaya.

She walked towards Sander.

“Good looking guy with great hair in all black right?”

“Yea” Sander confirmed.

“Yea he jumped in a taxi with some tall guy about 2 minutes before you ran out.”

“Thanks”

“No problem…. You look like you need a drink”

“I do, are you buying?” Sander flirted back lightly.

“Well if you mean am I inviting you to the free bar then yes am buying”

Sander threw the pretty girl a smile.

“Sander, by the way” he held his hand out to her.

“Genade” she slipped her hand into his.

“Come on let's go get you that drink” Genade joked out as she dragged Sander back into his own shindig.

-

White walls.

Bareless ceilings.

Sleep, it was simply a stranger to him. He grabbed his phone and checked the screen. Nothing. No calls, no text, he’d even take a voicemail cussing him out at this point but nothing made him feel more like a piece of shit then seeing the blue light of the witching hour (3am) looking back at him. He rested the phone on his chest and Sander could swear in that moment the weight of the world was on top of him.

He turned his cheek to the other side of the bed to check if Genade was fast asleep. She was, Sander wasn’t sure how this night had unraveled so suddenly and how he found himself in bed with such a beautiful creature and yet still left so unsatisfied. He slid out of bed carefully and managed to somehow find his boxers in the dark of the night.

He twisted the door knob to his bedroom open as carefully as possible not to wake her. Once he heard the click of the lock as he closed it shut his entire body relaxed. He walked into his kitchen to get a glass of water and as he walked passed his kitchen table the black frames caught his attention. They just sat there waiting to be opened.

Sander had been so wrapped up in his own unconscious revenge that he had missed Robbe’s white flag of surrender. He picked up the first black frame and began to tear at the tissue. It was Robbe’s first initial blueprint of the tattoo shop which included the skate park. Sander could still recall how excited and nervous he was to pitch the added addition but that he was adamant that it would compliment the whole vision of the space while additionally giving young kids a place of refuge. He even whipped up one of his guilt trips when he asked Sander why he didn't think it was important to provide a place where young boys like them could find one another.

Sander gulped down the memory.

He put the frame down and picked up the second frame. He tore off the paper and when he saw it looking back at him he literally felt the spit laced knife dig into his chest. He practically stopped breathing for a moment. He pulled off the white post-it off the frame that read We made it happen in Robbe’s hand writing and behind it encased in time was the white napkin that Sander had used to map out his dream tattoo shop all those years ago sitting across the booth from Robbe. In that moment Sander felt like he hit rock bottom and he didn’t care that it was 3 a.m. or that what he was about to do was far from appropriate because all he could think of is that he needed to hear Robbe’s voice. Luckily he had brought his phone with him from the bedroom; call it instinct or intuition but something made him take it with him. He texted Robbe immediately.

Are you awake? - Sander

Sander was sure Robbe wouldn’t text back after all the horrible things he had said to him just hours earlier but something deep inside him told him not all hope was lost and before he started to whirlpool into panic his phone vibrated.

Yes - Robbe

Can I call you? Please… - Sander

Two minutes went by..

K - Robbe

Sander never thought the ring of a phone could make him feel so nauseous but he felt like his heart was in his stomach when he heard Robbe’s voice on the other end. It was practically a whisper…

“Hey”

“Am a fucking asshole. All the shit I said to you tonight, I didn’t mean it. I mean I did but am frustrated. I never thought this is how we would end up. I just don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me about your boyfriend after everything…… I don’t know I just thought……. We had agreed…..”

Sander could hear Robbe sigh out on the other end of the line.

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I don’t care if it's with me or not….”

Robbe didn’t react to Sander’s statement so he continued.

“I opened up your frame. I can’t believe you kept that dirty old napkin for the last 5 years.”

“6 years” Robbe corrected him.

“Yeah…. 6 years.” Sander forced out a sweet toned chuckle.

The line went quiet for a moment.

“You still there?” Sander asked.

“Yea”

“Thank you for registering the space. Thank you for figuring out the tax credit thing. Jann won’t shut up about how I introduced him to the best architect he has ever worked with. Thank you for…..”

Sander started to get choked up, so he composed himself before he continued.

“Thank you for chipping in. You didn’t owe me that”

“I did actually. I promised you I’d find a way, remember?” Robbe questioned.

Sander just ran the palm of his hand on his forehead and through his hair recalling the promise Robbe made to him so long ago. 

“And you always keep your promises” Sander tacked on.

“Always” Robbe confirmed.

“Can I ask for one last one?”

“Sander….” Robbe sounded slightly dejected.

“Whatever happens..I love you. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Okay?”

“Sand--”

“Please” Sander pleaded.

“Promise” Robbe agreed not knowing then that to fulfill this promise he would need to forsake another.  

The silence crept back in. Sander knowing the call was nearing its end. So he said his final words.

“I am so happy that I found you. That we got the time we got together and that we are one of the few people in the world that can actually say they found their soulmate.”

5 seconds of silence filled up the call.

“I love you baby. I always will. Am so sorry I hurt you tonight.” Sander added on.

“I….. I….” Robbe false started but he was so close to getting off the blocks in that moment and running towards the finish line but he faltered.

Then doubt took a hold of him.

“I have go now” Robbe stated, and before Sander could even respond he hung up the phone.

Once Sander heard the dial tone go dead he walked over to his couch and plopped down. He grabbed his sketch pad off the coffee table and began to draw the design that would go above his heart.

Robbe just looked down at his finger laying over the end call button and stood there in silence.

He wasn’t sure what he had just done but it all happened so fast.

His body and mind had completely shut down hearing Sander say those words to him. He stood there in his living room in between two minds. A big part of him wanted nothing but to call Sander back and tell him how much he loved him too. Another part of him was so angry that they were in this position. Robbe had done everything he could in his life to protect them from the world but he never planned that the thing that would ultimately tear them apart would be each other. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on his couch. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on the top of his thighs. His thoughts made him anxious. Made him press his palms together and scratch his nails on the surface of his left hand.

Robbe took a big inhale and as he exhaled out all his doubts got caught up in his throat and he began to cough up sobs. Hot tears began to stream out of him and like the collapse of a dam the water pressure broke the walls of his interior. He crumbled. He just fell on his side and curled up like a young child. He buried his cries on the couch pillow and cried himself to sleep and in this moment of his despair Robbe felt Bowie come over and lie down next to him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s a void at the heart of the universe.

A place where space and time collide. Where the boundary lines of the event horizon can be found. Where a choice lies to leave the remnants of the mother, or to enter the ergosphere; the grey place where time ceases to exist and everlasting is a perpetual promise.

Man has sensed the presence of the black mass for quite some time but only until recently did we find ourselves asking: if no light can emanate from within then should we defy the gods? and cross into a plane that could potentially spaghettify the human body: two faces, four arms and four legs pulled into threaded form. A fruitless purgatory? or maybe, all together something else, an unknown, an entry door to another universe.  

The lovers essence is mirrored here; splashed across the buildings exterior as they stumbled out of their metallic cocoon placed into park. They dance atop the asphalt in embrace; need, and desire. A rendezvous of their lips tangled up in an act of amnesty. The automatic lightening levers flicker into automation. The sulfur vapor caresses their skin as they stand outside the apartment entry door. Robbe fumbles through a set of nickel, copper and brass finally identifying his right to pass. His hands are shaking suddenly, his body aware of his nervous system, reacting to what’s sure to come, their unspoken contract. Sander notices the delay and comes up behind him. He places his palm on top of Robbe’s hand and begins to guide it towards the keyhole. Robbe takes note of the fact that his Casio watch is looking right back at him. The dials in full functional spin.

Robbe unknowingly holds his breath as Sander assists him in unlocking the entry door. The [click] of the lock makes Robbe flinch. He isn’t sure why but suddenly he feels the axis shift. Robbe has no time to wallow in his concerns as he and Sander stumble into the lobby’s backdrop. The vapor wash has vanished and they find themselves amongst the whitest of all fluorescent lighting. It gives off a celestial feeling. The change of ambiance is almost cleansing. Sander focuses his attention on a chunk of real estate on the lobby floor it once served as temporary housing on the night Robbe jumped in between worlds. He smiles at the thought that he sat there that night, pen to paper calling on the properties of general relativity. Yearning for a distortion in time, a tear, an entryway. He disregards that flashback quickly as he senses Robbe’s shadow dance on screen. He grabs Robbe’s hand without much thought and the duo rush into the steel vault like a pair of runway bandits. The interior of their metal forge covered in a reflective surface. Sander navigates the route and makes his floor selection. As they travel from south to north they inch closer to their glass ceiling they run through their usual rolodex of the familiar. Violent pants interrupted by wet kisses, eager petting complimented by hair pulling, a bareless ceiling being balayage(d) by photo negatives that echo past dealings but the denominator of time begins to unravel and they are interrupted. The vault doors swing open.

Times up now.

They’ve arrived.

[darknessisafriend]

Since the beginning

Pairing: Arthur/Joker x Reader

Warning: rough sex, bloodplay and very long fic XD

Prompt: Where the Reader has been in a relationship since before his decent into madness and she is at the apartment when Arthur is on the Murray Franklin Show. She watches the whole thing and is terrified, too scared to even move. When she does find the strength, she decides to pack everything and get the hell out of Dodge. Then, as she finishes and is getting ready to leave, Arthur comes home. He manages to escape the cops and comes back to get her? He's still post-car accident. He has blood all over and his makeup still on. Arthur is all creepy and everything as he tries to get the reader to go with him, saying "you love me, don't you?" And all that shit. In the end, the reader submits, and they have rough-ish sex?

You have more empathy than most people, not very talkative, introvert and nervous in crowded places, you always saw details and noticed thing others didn´t see. The homeless grandma, trying to sell little knitted objects to have food, a warm and safe place to spend the night; the sexually harassed student in the subway not daring to move or say anything, that nobody see or feign not to see. You often thought that it´s probably because people don´t see you either that you notice these details.  

 You had recently graduated from university but you couldn´t find a job related to your background, and you had your student loan to pay back. You wondered, `what’s the point of studying for this kind of result? ´, so you took the first job you found, cashier at a porn cinema. Most of the time it was ok, but as you worked on the night shift, you could meet pervs, asking you to do all sorts of things as if working at a porn cinema included prostitution; you didn´t feel safe either when your shift ended at 5:00 am, it was still dark outside, most of the streets were desert, except for some criminals, you were just lucky nothing had happened to you yet. 

 You met Arthur in the streets, the day when he got beaten up; you were passing by, going to work. Your boss had asked you to do extra hours, you couldn´t refuse it, you will be able to buy yourself warm clothes for winter. It was going to be quite a long day; it was around 3pm when you approached from your place of work. You were looking to the ground while walking, lost in your thoughts. Suddenly on your left your heard muffled noises, to realize it sounded like a mix of punches and groans. As you turned you head in the direction of the sounds, you saw a group of kids running, leaving someone lying still on the floor. `Shit´ you thought as you started to walk rapidly towards the victim. The man was dressed as a clown, breathing rapidly, curved into a ball, his sign broken into pieces. He slowly moved onto his back, making his prank flower throw a spurt of water, as if he was trying to cheer himself up. He quailed as he saw you approaching; he probably expected another series of beating.  Poor man, you crouch down, your hands in front of you.  

 “I mean no harm” you told him as softly as you could, giving him a reassuring smile.  

 “I´m Y/N, what´s your name?” you asked him, he looked at you in the eyes, like you were an alien, what happened to him to end up so surprised by such question?   

 “I´m Ar…Arthur …” he stuttered; his voice broken. He sounded like such a sweet guy. You could feel anger rise in your chest, why did everyone were so mean these days?  But now wasn’t the time to get pissed.  

 “Arthur, are you okay? Can you move?” you asked him, extending your hand for him to take. He seemed to hesitate as if it was another sick joke. You gave him an encouraging smile. He gently took your hand, you squeezed it reassuringly.  

 “I´m alright” he answered, still looking at you, wonder filling his blue eyes, they were one of the most beautiful you had ever seen. You helped him stand up, he rolled his right shoulder, he probably took a heavy punch there, and one of his legs seemed to hurt him as well. He was about to bend to reach the pieces of his sign, you were faster than him.  

 “No, don’t worry, I´ll pick it up for you” you added, gathering them, and giving them to Arthur. He was throwing you quick glances.  

 “Thank you, Y/N, I´m… I´m sorry to bother you…” he said with a guilty tone, looking on the ground. You automatically reach for his gloved hand.  

 “You didn’t! Wasn´t gonna leave you like this. Nobody deserves to be treated like that, believe me” You said with a smile. He seemed awestruck; your heart skipped a beat as a small shy smile formed on his lips. You will arrive late at work this day but it didn´t matter, for the first time you had met love. 

 And it was love at first sight. Only a few days after meeting him, you were dating. You liked your relationship with him, the both of you took things slow, there was not rush, for now kisses, cuddles and holding hands was all you needed from each other. Arthur, was perfect for you, he was not afraid to have fun, just like you; it was nice to share this with someone, because most of your friends and family would often tell you to stop having fun the way you did because `it´s not of your age anymore, dreaming is for children not adults´. Your imagination was the only place where you were happy, until Arthur entered your life.  

 His life wasn´t easy either, worse than yours, but you were there to support him, make him smile and laugh; laugh of fun and joy unlike his condition which was painful and caused him to be rejected even more by society. When he had one of those laughter outbreaks, you would hold him, caressing his back, whispering soothing words in his ear.  You were doing your best to share moments with him, comfort him after a bad day where people would be rude to him, making fun of him. 

 “I hope my death makes more cents than my life” you had read out loud one day, as you leaned over his shoulder, you chuckled, wrapping your arms around him, your chin resting on his shoulder, kissing his jaw. “I like that one, but please don´t die too soon”, you added, it made him smile, he kissed your hand “As long as you love me, no chance” he had answered sweetly. 

 Days went on happily. One day, as he came back from work, he had told you he carried a gun with him, he knew he wasn’t supposed to but a colleague of his, Randall, had insisted, telling him it was essential to keep him safe. It was a nice gesture of him, it could at least serve a dissuasion if some thugs were to attack Arthur.

And unfortunately, you didn’t have much time to see each other during the week as you mostly worked at night, but you did your best. Over the weeks, you started to bring some of your belongings to his apartment to spend more time with him. You would spend your day sleeping on his couch, to be woken up by his kisses as he came back from work and you had to start your night shift. Despite his exhaustion, he always insisted on escorting you to work to make sure you were safe. To this point, you could say that you were living with him more than at your home. His mother Penny was very nice but very sick. And Arthur had so much weight on his shoulders, sacrificing his own health for her, so when you could, you insisted on helping them financially. Sometimes you would accompany him to watch stand-up comedy and honestly you didn’t understand how people could laugh to such sexist and stupid jokes, it was nothing like Arthur’s dark and sophisticated humor, which you absolutely loved.

 Despite the happy moments you shared with him, life continued to push him down. Just like this day you’d remember your entire life. He left for work, all excited because his gig was to happen in a children hospital, he loved kids so much, and they loved him too, never mocked him in anyway. You had a day off, staying at your flat, preparing yourself for a date night with him.  However, when he came knocking at your door that night, he was panting, his nose bleeding, his hair disheveled. He had told you everything, how he got fired whereas he didn’t do anything wrong but carry something to protect himself; then how he got beaten up by those assholes, and he shot them. It was self-defense, these jerks only got what they deserved, you had told Arthur. He had come to you, knowing you’d be there for him. You will cover him, and support him. It was also the night were the both of you made love for the first time, as a sign of trust and love you had for each other.

You learned how to hate Wayne, when the next day, all he had to say was that the less fortunate people in this city, were stupid, not able to make decisions of their own, clowns that needed guidance from some fucking rich guy like him. It made you happy that people were reacting to this and were supporting Arthur, maybe that’s what Gotham’s need after all.

Still, since that day, Arthur changed, he was different; it felt like he wasn’t sharing everything with you. One night, he came back from therapy more upset than usual, angry even. “Arthur, you know you can talk to me, right?”, but that night, he didn’t.

 Life went back to normal. He had decided to do his first stand up comedy, you wouldn’t miss for any reason. He had entered the stage smiling, but the laughter attack came, you just wanted to stand up and soothe him, but you knew he wouldn’t want that, because he wants to perform; he just had to get through this outbreak first. So, you smiled encouragingly, hoping that between his gasps for air, he would see you and that it would help him. And he did, it gave him the strength to push past his nervousness, and he was good, very good, each of his jokes made you laugh, even though you knew them by heart. As he finished the show, and people were clapping, you hurried backstage, and greeted him with a passionate kiss.

 “I’m so proud of you, you were the best” you had told him between kisses. The lovemaking after that had been incredible, passionate; Arthur was becoming more confident taking the lead, you liked it and did not hesitate to tell him how good he was. You probably had an impact for sure, but you didn’t know he wasn’t taking his medication anymore and that had deeper impact on him. The following days he continued his show every night, despite how much you wanted to be there you couldn’t, still working at night.

One particular day, you went to see him and Penny, but he wasn’t there, and his mother was in a worst emotional state than usual, cops were there, what was going on? and then everything happened fast, Arthur was still missing. Until the ambulance came.

 As the doctors took Penny to reanimation, you were waiting outside with Arthur; he was pacing back and forth, anxious. 

 “Arthur! Come sit here please.” He seemed to come out of his trance, and sat next to you, you passed one arm around his shoulders. 

 “She´s gonna be alright, they´re going to take good care of her.” 

 As they brought her in a room, the doctors explained she had a stroke, the both of you stayed by her side. 

 “Arthur, where were you? What happened? Looked like a fight happened there” You asked him, keeping your voice down, he looked to the opposite of you.  

 “Nothin´, just went for a walk.” He answered tiredly. 

 “Arthur…why aren´t you telling me the truth? You´re lucky that I was passing by to talk to you, I found her unconscious with those cops…” 

 “I don´t wanna talk about it Y/N…” his tone final, you sighed, you felt hurt that he didn´t trust you enough to share whatever happened.  

 “I´m gonna get a coffee, want one?” you asked him, standing up, he nodded, you gave him a kiss on his temple and went to the cafeteria.

 The following days got worse, you just felt Arthur slip away from you, and you simply didn´t know what to do, except to be there for him. When Penny died you were there too, for the burial he wore a red costume, smoking a cigarette; that´s when you saw him smile in front of the grave, a big smile, this disturbed you, was it some kind of nervous reaction?  Then, he flicked the cigarette onto the tomb making you gasp. 

 “Good, now let´s get out of here.” He said on a joyful tone, walking away, he is showing no signs of caring about his mother´s death, he looks happy. 

 “What´s wrong with you?!” you exclaimed, maybe it was his way of coping with the shock of her death, but it wasn´t a reason to show her disrespect. 

 “Nothing´s wrong with me!” he yelled, pointing a finger at you. You froze; it was the first time that he raised his voice on you. 

  “I´ll just leave you alone for now. You know where to find me…” You answered, swallowing down, trying to suppress the tears prickling into your eyes, it´s probably for the best that you give him some space. He doesn´t even try to go after you. So, you went back to your place, `I guess I´ll be spending the rest of the week alone…´.  

 You were truly worried for him, he was behaving strange for the past weeks, and for some reason he refused to open up to you; you feared that he was really going crazy and that he would end up harming himself. 

Two days passed, without any news from him, this was eating you up. You were so used to his presence. Today you had to go outside to run some errands. As you opened the door, you spotted something on the floor, a bunch of synthetic flowers and an envelope. You instantly recognized it was from Arthur, he had showed you his magic tricks where he would pull out these flowers. This made you smile; you took both item and retreated back in your apartment, excited to read the letter.   

 My love,  

I´m sorry for my behavior last day,  

Please be at my flat for Murray Franklin show, you will watch me on TV, I was invited!

You´re going to like it, it´s going to be so much fun!  

Never forget that I love you,  

Arthur  

 Your excitement slightly came down when you finished reading the letter. You had seen the video, you were with him when Murray played his video on TV and mocked him. Arthur was devastated this day, he cried for hours, the only thing that made him happy had betrayed him. If he was going there naively, thinking that people will be nice to him or that Murray will show him sympathy for everything that has happened to him in the past few weeks, he was wrong. If only you had money to afford a ticket for the show, you would have joined him right away. You prepared yourself to go to his place, there was 2 hours left before the show, you had time to buy what you needed to cook dinner, he surely will need it after the show.  

 On the way to his place, you felt nervous, people outside were getting excited, wearing clown mask or paint, felt like seeing Arthur´s `Carnival´ clown on every face. You totally supported this upbringing, you simply hoped this wouldn´t end in a blood bath, you didn´t want anyone to be killed, this could not legitimate your fight.  

 As you entered his apartment, you realized that it was a mess, for some reason, the food and compartments of the fridge were thrown out. You noticed that the doorframe of the living room was damaged like something had violently hit it, several times. You assumed that he had been very disturbed by his mother’s death and he took out his anger and helplessness on the flat itself.   

 You hoped that being at his place will enable the two of you to talk at open hearts, you wanted to know how he felt, what happened… 

 As you finished setting the table, you sat legs crossed on the couch, wrapped in Arthur plaid, holding a mug of hot cocoa. You were feeling a mix of excitement and pride to see your lover on this show, it was his dream after all; but you also felt scared because knew that he was certainly invited for the wrong reasons, and this was going to break him even more.   

The protest was getting stronger outside, you could hear people screaming, and chanting slogans; from time to time you were hearing firecrackers exploding, and well you hoped it was firecrackers.

 “You gotta see our next guest…” that’s Arthur! He was going to appear on TV!

 “I’m pretty sure this guy could use a doc”. You winced at his mockery, Arthur wasn’t even there that they were already making fun of him. To make things worse they showed the video again, “bastards, you’re only showing his laughter attack.” You said to the TV already irritated. Your mind goes to your lover watching this backstage…

 “Joker!” You hear Murray calling. A figure comes out dancing, that’s Arthur?! He’s spiraling, confident, shaking the hand of Murray like he sees him every day. ‘Why is he wearing his makeup?’ He has a very flashing costume similar to the one he had for Penny’s burial. You had to admit that it suit him very well, it reflected his personality.  Then he kisses the doctor, ‘wait what!?’, you can’t believe it your eyes, almost dropping your mug, it’s so passionate and…provocative, the crowd is cheering.

As he sits down, the camera zooms on his face, he is beautiful like this, he even looks younger; despite the weirdness of the situation, you can’t help but feel pride at knowing him, he is being so brave in this moment. He pauses, Murray asks him if his ok “Yeah, this is exactly how I imagined it”. You smile at this, it was his dream to be invited on the show.

 The interview starts, Murray refers to his look, Arthur cleverly answers almost mocking himself “I’m just trying to make people laugh”

 “And how’s that going for you” replies Murray mockingly making the public laugh, Arthur’s reaction was also laugh like one of those he has during a laughter attack, but it feels forced, ‘was he mocking himself?’ you wondered, slightly frowning at the scene.

 “Wanna tell us a joke?” the public is cheering “Yeaah?”  ask Arthur, you can tell he’s excited, he has a bright smile, he’s even playful as he gets out his book of jokes, now was the time to show them his talent.

 “You got a book? A book of jokes” the public his laughing, ‘fucker’ Arthur goes through the pages, he seems lost in it “Take your time got all night” another mockery from Murray.

 “Ok, here’s one, knock knock.” He’s smiling like he’s eager to hear people laugh at his joke.

 “And you had to look that up?” comments Murray, the public and guest burst into laughing, mocking him once again, you find yourself pleading for them to stop this free nastiness. The smile Arthur had since the beginning faded, his mask of confidence is cracking, he adds “I wanted to get it right”, you are starting to feel uncomfortable, how can people watch this and mock his situation.

 “Knock, knock” repeats Arthur. “Who’s there?” asks Murray.

 “It’s the police mam, your son has been hit by a drunk driver, he’s dead” Finishes Arthur, chuckling, the public is outraged, you’re surprised, you never heard this one and for once, it wasn’t funny.

 Arthur apologizes “Yeah, I’m sorry it’s just, you know it’s been a rough few weeks Murray”, he chuckles again, you can tell it’s nervous.

 “Ever since…I killed those 3 Wall Street guys” he says looking at the crowd, you froze, why is he confessing! ‘He didn’t plan on coming back home’ you start thinking, maybe all that happened is too much and he wants end it, you see it in his eye, he ‘s speaking like it’s something surreal that happened, you start bouncing your leg, ashamed that you weren’t enough to help him get through all this.

 “There’s not punchline, it’s not a joke” the public is dead silent.

 “You’re serious aren’t you, you’re telling you killed these 3 young men on the subway? And why should we believe you?” investigates Murray, ‘why aren’t they stopping the live?’ you wonder.

 “I got nothing left to lose…nothing can hurt me anymore… my life is nothing but a comedy” he said smiling, but you can tell by his eyes and the way he moves that he is suffering, not far from crying actually, you pinch your lips together, your eyes watering ‘what about me?’.

 “Let me get this straight, you think killing those guys is funny?” asks Murray.

 “I do, and I’m tired of pretending it’s not, comedy is subjective Murray, you know what they say ‘all of you, the systems that knows so much, you decide what’s right or wrong, the same way you decide what’s funne-eh! or not” You can feel Arthur growing tired of hearing about those guys, those exposed as martyrs whereas they were the criminals who abused him. You know he’s right.

 “Ok…I think, I might understand you did this to…start a movement, to become a symbol?”

 Arthur scoffed “Come on Murray, do I look like the kind of clown to start a movement? I killed those guys because they were awful” he clenches his jaw. ‘tell them Arthur, tell them what they did to you!’

 “Everybody is awful these days, it’s enough to make anyone crazy” he sounds bitter, eyes filled with hate.

“Ok, that’s it, so you’re crazy, that’s your defense? For killing 3 young men?” Arthur smiles again.

“No, they couldn’t carry a tune to save their lives” he says mockingly, somehow doing a reference how people treated him because they don’t like his jokes. The crowd gasps. Arthur lets out an exasperated moan “Oooh, why is everyone so upset about these guys. If it was me dying on the sidewalk, you’d walk right over me! I pass you everyday you don’t notice me! But these guys because, what Thomas Wayne would cry about them on TV!” He is starting to lose his temper; his eyes are wet.

 “You have problem with Thomas Wayne?” Murray keeps pushing him.

 “Yes, I do…have you seen what it’s like out there MurRAY? Do you actually leave the studio? Everybody just yells and scream at each other, nobody is civil anymore! Nobody thinks what it’s like to be the other guy…you think that men like Thomas Wayne ever think what it’s like to be someone like me? To be somebody but themselves?  They don’t!  They think we’ll just sit there and take it like good little boys! That we won’t werewolf and go wild!” Adds Arthur angrily. Despite being dead worried for him, you can’t help but nod, because it’s what’s happens every goddamn day of your life.

 “You finished? I mean there’s so much self-pity Arthur, you sound like you’re making an excuse for killing those young men, not everybody and I’ll tell you this not everyone is awful.” You huffed, probably the only smart thing Murray said today. Arthur shot him a deadly glare, squeezing his lips together, he’s was betrayed by Murray, he hated him now.

 “You’re awful Murray”

 “Me? I’m awful? Yeah and how am I awful?” was Murray so stupid that he didn’t realize the harm he’s done?!

 “Playing my video, inviting me on the show, you just wanted to make fun of me, you’re just like the rest of them.” Arthur growled, keeping eye contact with the host.

 “You don’t know the first thing about me pal, look what happened because of what you did, what it lead to, there are riots out there, two police men are in critical condition, someone was killed today”  You took a deep breath, Murray was being way too provocative right now, he shouldn’t, you feel Arthur is close to break, you feel he could do anything;  he laughs.

 “Someone was killed today because of what you did” Joker scratched the back of his head, you know he does that when he’s under strong stress.

“I know! How about another joke Murray?” ‘Shit, he’s not gonna make it’

 “What do you get, when you cross, a mentally ill loner, with a society that abandons him and treats him LIKE TRASH! I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU GET!” his voice broke making you tear up, “YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE!”.

 Then, there’s a loud bang, it takes you several seconds to realize what just happened, he shot Murray, he’s bouncing his legs, he laughs, you understood better than anyone else how Arthur felt but why did he killed him, it’s not, it can’t be the solution! Right? He gets up and shoots him once again, this makes your blood run cold, you don’t recognize the man you love, your Arthur. He comes towards the camera, looking directly into it “Goodnight…and always remember, that’s…” the show cuts.

 You lay your head on the back of the couch, passing a hand though your hair. You feel like shit, for being the closest person to him and not having been able to protect him ‘no I wasn’t part of this, I didn’t make him like this, fuck that’s my fault’.

   You stayed in front of the TV for what seemed an eternity, everything had happened so fast, you are staring into emptiness. What now? You had just witnessed the person you cared the most about, give into madness, kill someone out of anger; this wasn’t self-defense anymore. He had become uncontrollable. You’re blaming it all on yourself, your breathing is starting to become frantic, and you feel a panic attack rising, kicking the plaid out of your shoulders, you try to calm yourself  ‘I’m not worthy of him I failed him’ it’s so hard to breath, you can only hear the heavy beats of your heart ‘why did I leave him alone, I should have skipped work, been there for him, even if he didn’t want me to’. Then a darker thought crosses your mind ‘Is he going to kill me because I didn’t see how bad he was doing? he loves me right?’ you want to say yes but your instinct is screaming the contrary ‘what if he told me to come here to make it easier for him to kill me?’

 “I have to leave.” You to say to yourself. You quickly got up, looking around. You need to pack up things you had brought here, the police doesn’t have to know.

 You hear in the background the news repeating the same thing over and over again, Arthur heartbreaking words, that he was arrested. 

 You enter the bedroom, looking for a book you gave to Penny. From the corner of your eyes you spotted one of Arthur´s cardigan, you took it in your trembling hands, burying your head in it, inhaling his scent; you burst into tears, hugging the piece of clothing. You love him so much, now you lost him. Taking the cardigan with you, tears continue to run freely as you gather your things. You go back to the living room, to get some of your clothes in the closet.  

 “What the…!” you scream, falling to the floor. In front of you lies the corpse of a man, a pair of scissors in his eye, blood everywhere, you frantically crawl away from this horror `I have to get out of here! ´, getting back up you take your bags, and run to the door. 

 As you opened the door, you came face to face with him, `shit he´s supposed to be under arrest! ´. He was panting like he ran to come here and get you, drops of sweat were prickling on his temples. The first thing you see is blood, his face covered by his own blood coming from the gash on his forehead and his mouth, the painted smile is different, darker, you realized it´s made with his blood.  He laughs openly, pupils dilated, he´s excited like a kid on a fair.  

 “Wasn´t I amazing?! Y/N come, see outside!”  He reaches for your hand, you take a few steps back, you´re searching his eyes, trying to find Arthur in this man, you´re scared, your heart beats widely. His laugh dies immediately, he doesn´t understand, why aren´t you jumping in his arms? Then, he sees the bags you’re holding, were you leaving him!?  

 “Y/N what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He walks inside, closing the door and leaning on it. You were trapped.   

 “Arthur…there´s…there´s a dead body in the closet…” you say with a trembling voice, finding the strength to look at him in the eyes, he chuckles passing a hand through his green locks, marching to you.  

 “Yep, that´s Randall, I wasn´t gonna leave him the middle of the room, could have used your help to move him by way.” You couldn´t believe it. Was that the only thing that bothered him?   

 “That´s all you have to say? You can´t just kill…Arthur you can´t do that!” you whimpered frantically agitating your hands around.  

 “Oh, come on Y/N you´re freaking out, besides he deserved it” he muttered, pouting like a child being scolded. You throw your hands in the air and let out an exasperated noise, tears started to run down on your face again, this was too much to handle.

 “Just let me go please.” You pleaded softly. To this, his head abruptly shot back up.  

 “No, you´re not leaving me…you´re not leaving me!” he groaned almost shouting. He angrily took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a quick drag. He returned his attention to you, pointing his cigarette at you.   

 “You love me don´t you?” this destabilize you, you weren’t expecting this question. Still you already knew the answer.

 “I do Arthur b…”  

 “But what? You loved me out of pity, to satisfy your need to help those beneath you? You seemed to like me recently! But no, you actually prefer poor pathetic Arthur huh!” he cut you off, losing his temper. His words hurt you, what if he was right, no he wasn’t…

 “I didn’t mean for this to happen!” you whined. If only you could fix him, bring back the man you knew. “We didn´t have much but we still had something” you add, wiping away the wetness of your face with the back of your sleeve.

 “I´m doing this for you, wouldn´t you want to be free, not struggle, have more than this?” he asserted, looking at you intensely. You don’t answer, looking at your feet, of course you would like it.

 “Don´t you want me to be happy, don´t you want us to be happy?”  he prompted irritably. You shake your head “Of course I want you to be happy, but killing like this is not…”  

 “Don´t say that, you covered me for those 3 guys remember? what did you say? `Assholes like them deserve to be shot´. The others hurt me too, I am the victim here.” His voice breaking, his eyes watery, he’s standing at arm’s length to you. You frown, you don’t know what to say, because he’s making sense…  

 “Tell me how it made you feel hmm?” he pushed, circling around you.

 “Proud…” you fretted, still not meeting his eyes.   

 “Louder Y/N” you startled at his raised voice.   

 “Proud! You were finally fighting back against the world.” You add, shivering at your own confession. You heard him chuckle as he came to stand in front of you, slightly bending to meet your lowered head.  

 “You said Randall deserved to die for what he did to me” he dramatically gesture his arms in the direction of the closet. “You did well, there’s nothing wrong with that baby…you said Murray, didn´t have the right to mock me, that you hoped something bad happened to him, wish granted…” he claimed. You don´t move, trembling, you don´t dare to look at him in the eyes, he is so right, you’re feeling angry, how could you be so blind?   

 “Don’t act so shocked, I know you liked it, this whole show your giving me, it´s a comedy, you´re just too scared to admit it, to become what you´ve always been, deep down you were like this since the beginning, you were just suppressing it.”

 He pushes you strongly against the wall, arms next to your head, blocking any chance of escape. He´s very close to you, his nose brushing against yours.    

 “Tell me you didn´t like to see me shoot Murray” He seized your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. He’s grinning like he already knows the answer. He doesn´t need to know that right now, so you try to find as much conviction as you can.  

 “I hated it.” You dared. He chuckles darkly.   

 “Liar” He purred, leaning in to kiss you. You don´t like what he is saying about you, you feel naked. You bite his lip; licking yours, you taste his blood, salty, throwing him a dark look. He laughs “oh you, I like it when you´re wild like that, you know what they say, truth will set you free but first it will piss you off.” You answer with a sneer. His face is deadly serious.

 “Now…you made me upset Y/N, don´t you deserve to be punished?” He buries his fingers in your hair, this makes you gulp, even though you’re still scared, another feeling emerges in your chest, excitement, anticipation…it´s wrong you shouldn’t feel this…

“I do deserve it Arthur…” his grip on your hair tightens, his eyes growing darker.  

 “Arthur’s dead, call me Joker.”  

 “I deserve it…Joker” you repeat, the name feels strange on your tongue. The clown release an excited breath, he’s smiling.  

 His mouth goes to your neck, nibbling your skin, sucking it to leave hickeys; then his mouth goes right under your ear, his warm breath gives you goosebumps.  

 “I am going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you so hard, and it’s going to hurt.” He purrs into your ear, slightly biting your ear lobe, your heartbeat increases.

       His other hand slides across your body to go between your legs, caressing you over your clothes, applying more pressure from time to time, you can already feel the need for more rising. And you want to touch him too, your hands go on his torso, he immediately pushes them away, smashing painfully your arm on the wall, blocking your hand above your head.  

 “Did I say you could touch me?” he groans, he stops touching you. The hand that was in your hair goes to your throat right below your jaw, he squeezes, not much, just enough for you to feel it, his mouth crashes against yours in a painful kiss, his tongue sucking yours. It feels good, being under his mercy, you can taste is blood again, metallic, delectable. You like his passion, his new-found confidence when he kisses you. As he run out of air, panting, his mouth a few inches from yours he orders “Face down on the couch. Now.” He’s dangerous but you want to push it, because you’re starting to like it, you want to see how far it can go, defy him, so you just smile, a sweet smile but your eyes are provocative.  

 “You’re going to regret that sweetheart.” He chuckles menacing, he yanks you on the couch with a force you never suspected.   Before you can react, you’re facing him, he’s onto you now, sitting on your hips, straddling your legs with his, holding your arms above your head with one hand, he kisses your neck again but this time hard, he stops at your most sensitive spot, making you gasp as he increases the pressure of his teeth, a sharp pain spreads in your neck as you realized he’s biting you, you moan, it hurts but you never thought you’d like it this way.  You can feel a few drops of blood coming out of the bite, then his tongue, smooth and warm, hungrily licking the liquid, soothing.

  Then, he looks at you, laughing loudly, “You like that don’t you”. You can feel blush creep on your cheeks, you want this to continue. You nod to him. Out of his pocket he takes a knife, your breathing increases, wondering what he was going to do with this knife. Still looking at you, he slowly slides the knife under your shirt, the cold of the blade making you jump. He clicks his tongue, ordering you to stay still. The blade continue its way until it reaches the top of your shirt, you feel the tip of the knife tickling your chin; in one sharp motion, Joker pushed the knife back to him, tearing up your cheap clothes. He does the same with your bra but this time he’s almost considerate like a craftsman working on his sculpture.   

 “So fucking pretty”, he flattered looking down on your exposed breast. Releasing your hands and setting the knife aside, he takes off his jacket and throws it away. Now he slowly opens each button of his shirt, taking pleasure in seeing you hypnotized, your eyes hungry. But impatience is growing in you, you want to play too. As soon as the last button is off, you quickly sat back, taking him by surprise, yanking him beneath you, kissing him hard and messy, caressing his naked torso.   

 You lift your head looking at him in the eyes, you can tell he’s intrigued. Your hand comes to slowly caress his cheek, a small grin appears on your face as you think about what you’re about to do. Then, you slap him with all the strength you have, he groans ready to return the favor “That´s for pushing me out the other day” you cooed, finishing with a grin. He burst into laughing, you shut him up by smashing your lips against his, his moans muffled in your mouth.

Taking advantage that you´re distracted, he makes the both of you tumble off the couch, your back and head landing hard on the floor, his hands go to your pants, taking it off, you help him by lifting your hips and pushing the clothes out of your legs. You can feel his erection hard against his fabric rubbing along your spot. His hand slides along your body to arrive to clit, he’s being teasing circling around your lips, alternating the pace but never going directly to your soft spot, gosh you hate him right now, you can’t help but move your hips to lead to more satisfaction. “shush, don’t think that I’ll give you satisfaction just yet…”

His mouth goes to your jaw, your chin and never to your mouth, your craving for him to kiss you, feeling his tongue play with yours. He gradually increases his attention between your legs, finally taking care of your sweet spot, even sliding fingers in your wet pussy. You can feel yourself coming close, closing your eyes, your whole-body trembling. But then Joker stops his marvelous work, your body twitches, looking for more, you were so close. He giggles at your state.

“I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to”. He whispers, nibbling your nipples, sucking them, tightening his teeth around their tip. 

 “Then mark me” you find yourself asking, panting. You were always his, time to make it official. You see him reach for the knife, planting kisses on your chest, he chooses the area below your left breast. As he applies pressure, you feel the blade piercing your skin, slowly sliding like dancing on your body, he is carving his name in your flesh, you close your eyes, biting your lip, the soft burning is relieving, forgetting your frustration. Your mind follow your senses, first the J, then O, K is making you wince a little, more painful, E, finally R, you release a shaky breath, satisfied by the sensations it gives you.  

The clown collects some of the dripping blood on his fingers, licking them with his tongue, then putting them in his mouth, tasting you one more time, closing his eyes in delight. His fingers dance once again on your sensitive marks, almost burning.  He accumulates more blood on his thumbs, and lay them on the corners of your mouth, painting a smile on your face. You want to kiss him so bad, you straighten yourself to reach his lips, griping his hair roughly. But this time the kiss is tender and longing.  

  “Scar me; I am yours as much as your mine.”  He asks you against your lips, his pupils dilated, he’s looking at you intensely, determined and serious.       

  You position yourself to be sitting on his lap, you take the blade, his hands are resting on your hips, caressing your butt cheeks, you brush your lips against his torso, posing wet kisses on his collarbone, yes, the perfect spot. Gently you engrave your name, he closes his eyes, rejecting his head back, softly moaning your name. It looks perfect, your name on his skin, until the end.

When you’re finished, he lays you down, a devilish smile appearing on his lips. Unbuttoning his pants, he lets out his throbbing erection, you gulp in anticipation. In a sharp movement of his hips, he penetrates you, making you gasp of pleasure, your frustration surging back.  

Then, his hands are in your hair, yanking them so tightly. You arch your back underneath him. He gets hold of your bottom lip and bites it, hard; you drag your nails even deeper in his shoulder blades, trying to leave marks for him to wince tomorrow. His thrusts inside of you are fast, hard, violent, his breath coming in big ragged gasps. You wrap your legs around him, gripping his hair, pushing him further and deeper into you, you bite his lobe as you breathe and moan of pleasure in his ear.   

“You belong to me you get it?” he groans, his voice husky, reinforcing his statement by rough thrust, making you cry out.

“Y…yes Joker…” you manage to articulate, you were coming close again, this time he doesn’t stop, increasing his speed, his fingers gripping your thighs.

 “I’m gonna come, fuck…” he moans is head buried in the rook of your neck, muffling his groans of pleasure, you reach climax before him already overstimulated, your body jolting, he follows you a few seconds after, breathless, he collapses on you, his head resting on your breast. The both of you are laying like that for a couple of minutes, trying to gain back your senses. ‘Well that was something’ is the first thing that comes to your mind, making you giggle, you kiss the top of his head.

“We can’t stay here…” you say after a while. His answer comes out as a sleepy groan, you smile, he already had a plan, for the first time you felt free, free of the world, of your own rules, and happy.

[nonsensicalobsessions]

Aiden’s Story

from Symphony without Strings

It was bad.

They had all been sitting down to breakfast when Tom’s phone rang. That in itself wasn’t alarming. It was the way Tom’s face froze, his eyes quickly flitting to Liam, Aiden, and Liam again as he gracefully rose from the table to take the phone in the privacy of his room...and the determined, bright voice Tom assumed as he shut the door...

He knew it was bad, the way Tom tore out of the small apartment they were all sharing close to Sloan Kettering, before he’d managed a bit of breakfast, before finishing his tea, still sitting, steaming in his cup at the kitchen table.

Liam looked at the abandoned cup and plate, and his lip wobbled. “Papa left awf’lly quick, Aiden. Do you think Mama’s gotten really really sick again? Like she was in London? Because she was doin’ so good yesterday...she was, Aiden, she was...!”

Aiden crouched down so he could look into Liam’s eyes. “Your Mama was doing very well yesterday, wasn’t she? So let’s hold onto that. She was so happy, we haven't seen her that happy in a long time. She was able to play for us, and with us, and your Papa made sure she didn’t wear herself out, so it isn’t anything like that,” he was quick to add. “Maybe she does need some extra cuddle time, just like Papa said.”

And if it was worse than that, Aiden would make sure he began to take yesterday’s memories and cement them in the little boy’s mind, so he would have them forever. Because that is what Aiden did. He made sure that things lasted, whether they were memories, or decisions.

He was the one that kept things together. And he knew it.

His role began the day he found Merry crumpled on the floor outside the ladies’ toilets in the music building at university. He didn’t realize it at the time, but when he held her hand and said that he reckoned that he would step in and act as the baby’s father, as well as Merry’s mother and friends, it was the first step on the journey that was leading him to this apartment on this nippy autumn morning in New York.

He helped her keep her health together and keep going to school during a difficult pregnancy. Cheered her and supported her as she gave birth a hell of a lot faster than she wanted to, without any pain relief, even as she wept and cried out for some Tom guy right when the contractions were at their worst. Yelled when she accepted her Doctorate degree...and looked at her right when Liam was a year old and instinctively knew something was very, very wrong with his dear friend, and all but forced her to see a doctor. When she began chemotherapy less than a week later, he immediately stepped in and began caring for an energetic and bright toddler who was confused as to where his beloved “MarMar” was, as well as who this strange man who had burst into his life unexpectedly and seemed like he was planning on staying for awhile.

Despite his own mother’s vehement and violent disagreement, Aiden doggedly found employment close to Merry. He knew he was in it for the long haul, however long that haul may be. He was terrified it wasn’t going to be long, at all. Merry’s father passed, and Merry’s mother made it clear she didn’t care if Merry did, as well. Merry’s grandmother, bless her soul, had also passed, hence the animosity...but that was another story. At least Merry was now financially independent, and would not have to worry about her hospital bills, or Liam’s care. Merry immediately set up a trust for her son, and hired Aiden to be Liam’s tutor, caretaker, and guardian, with a much better salary and benefits package than he could ever hope to get with his experience and degree in any other environment. He was promptly installed in their household, and was a part of the family.

He was also Merry’s power of attorney for everything: financial, medical, parental...

In short, he held her and Liam’s lives in his hands.

He and Merry held many emotional conversations about this. Especially about her living will and desire for final arrangements as her health continued to deteriorate.

For all Merry was desperately reaching for any and all possible experimental treatments to prolong her life, hoping for the miracle that would prolong her life with her son, she was also practical in other regards.

“Aiden, I refuse to be kept alive by artificial means should it become clear it is my time to go. It would be unfair on you and Liam. I beg of you, if or when my quality of life is so poor I am no longer living but existing, please...let me go, my friend. If I get to a point where my mind is gone, let the body go as well...don’t have my son be tethered to a shell...”

The two of them sat with an attorney and crafted highly specific Living Will and Advance Directive Orders, in the event that Merry would be unconscious or otherwise unable to specify when she would want medical care and therapies to cease. Aiden was her designated medical healthcare proxy. There was a very rigorous set of definitions of what was considered necessary care and what was not, and when she would be considered past hope. For example, should she begin to experience multiple organ failure, all life support would be withdrawn, and she would be allowed to pass away in peace. “Life support” itself was given a set of definitions—unnecessary and invasive tubes removed, as well as machinery. A strict set of “do not resuscitate” orders were drafted. “Multiple organ failure” was considered three major organ systems vital to life shutting down.

Merry was driven, and exhaustive. Aiden was silently impressed. She was always very precise in her approach to her beloved music, which is partly why she was such a brilliant student...but it was the way she put so much of her soul into the whole of the piece that made her such a phenomenal musician. For this, Merry was the student: laser-focused, leaving nothing to chance. All she wanted was to be able to die with a modicum of dignity, in as little pain as possible, while keeping her wits about her as long as she could.

She had her funeral planned and all the money ready pay for the entire affair—a grim set of work, but she was determined that should it be necessary, no one be burdened at the moment of crisis. She kept insisting that there be as little fuss as possible. Aiden had to keep gently reminding her how funerals were for the living, and as she would be past caring what would happen, she should let him be a little more involved with these decisions. Merry was unaware of the DVD he had created that her son would dub The Secret Mama Movie that would, if necessary, serve in part as a video and retrospective at a memorial service. Merry and Aiden spent one never to be forgotten weekend going through photos and videos together, getting drunk on wine, tears, and laughter, putting together things Merry said she would like used for the service, and then it was all put away in a box that Aiden prayed fervently he would never have to open. It was placed in the very back of his closet, on the top shelf, in the very back corner. It was placed in an old Amazon delivery box, sealed with silver duct tape, but only one layer. Aiden figured if he had to open it, he wouldn’t want to have to fight with it very hard. On it, he simply wrote, “DO NOT OPEN UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.”

Aiden hand-carried the box from Baltimore to New York to London back to New York, along with the thumb drive and thin sheaf of paperwork. He never made a move without the papers and thumb drive, and while the box didn’t technically need to go to London with him, he wasn’t sure how the trip was going to go, and thought it might be best to have it with him. Just in case.

Now he was pacing as Liam happily played with a friend, waiting to hear from Tom to see how Merry was faring. He had received a confirmation that Merry was battling what they had feared, cytokine release syndrome. He and Tom spoke briefly during Liam’s nap, to coordinate how they would handle talking to Liam, as well as having someone be with Merry as often as possible. Aiden knew Tom would want someone with Merry 24/7, but it would be difficult. Liam would not take well to Tom disappearing from his life, nor should he. Tom would not want to distress Liam in that manner in any case.

So, Aiden would make sure Merry was not alone when Tom was back to make sure Liam could have his time with his beloved Papa. Not that this was a hardship. He did not want Merry to be alone either. If she was improving, that was one thing. If she was holding her own, but critical, no one would wish for her to awake but semiconscious, with no one to help ground her.

If she was deteriorating...

It would be a cold day in hell before Aiden would have Merry slip away from everyone unnoticed. No, by the gods.

It took a little bit of doing, but Aiden worked it out with a neighbor who was happy to sit with Liam while Aiden headed to the hospital to meet with Tom, have a quick exchange of information on both sides on how the day went on both sides of the hospital walls, and Tom would head back to the apartment for the night, and Aiden would remain with Merry.

The first night was difficult. Aiden had met Dr. Kelly Florence before, been introduced as her medical proxy, power of attorney, and keeper of her Advance Directive Orders and Living Will papers. He had already visited her numerous times before now.

But he was not emotionally ready to see her in such poor physical condition, even though he had tried to prepare himself as much as he could, and had seen her very ill in the past. But this was different.

He spent most of the first night holding her hand, talking to her.

“Merry? It’s Aiden, love...Tom is back with Liam, and I’ll be with you tonight. You don’t have to worry about a thing, so just relax, and rest. We’ve got this in hand, Kelly has got you full of the good drugs, she caught thus in plenty of time, so just take it easy...can you squeeze my hand? Let me know you’re in there?”

Her hot, small hand was lax in his, but it was so soon. Not even twenty-four hours yet. He was sure once she’d been on the medication for twenty-four hours, she would be so much better.

She wasn’t.

The second night, Aiden was so exhausted from not having had any sleep to speak of he spent most of it in the recliner chair he had dragged to her bedside. As before, he held her hand, and began the evening by talking to her of Liam, trying to find some sign Merry was still in the fight. Tom was distraught when they had met hours ago, saying how difficult it was to get Merry to respond to anything he did or said throughout the day, and her fever was proving resistant to controls as well. Liam had been a handful on the home front, picking up on the residual tensions of the adults, and was clingy or recalcitrant by turns.

Sometime before dawn, Aiden was awoken by a soft hand, gently shaking him awake.

“Aiden? It’s Kelly. Can you wake up for me, please? I would like to speak with you...”

He sat up with a crash, and winced, immediately checking to see if the noise he created when he flailed wildly in the chair had disturbed Merry. Kelly was resting between them, and immediately set about soothing him. “Relax, Aiden. She’s still very much out of it. I wish I could have left you to sleep as well, but I wanted to speak with you...”

His eyes bleary, Aiden checked his watch. “Kelly, Tom will be here in about an hour, and you could catch both of us then, ‘n’ not have to repeat it all...you know he’s gonna ask you to go over it all again, ‘n’ then some,” he yawned.

“No, Aiden.” Her voice was sober. “This isn’t a conversation for me to have with Tom. This is a conversation for just you, and me.”

It was a testimony to how very tired Aiden was that he didn’t understand what Kelly was trying to say. “Izzit ‘cause ’m here right now?”

“No, Aiden...it’s because Merry is now beginning to approach multiple organ failure.”

Aiden’s breath caught in his throat, and his blood froze. No. No. Kelly could not, could not be saying what he just heard. His pupils dilated in shock, terror, and the first crashing wave of what promised to be a punishing, cataclysmic tsunami of grief. Merry had come so far. Her body could not be failing her now. She had come so close to getting her last chance for life, love, no, for all of it...!

“What...what exactly are you saying?” He managed through gritted teeth.

Kelly’s eyes were very red and she was unashamed of the tears welling in them. She was never a doctor to lose her compassion, even though she had to retain her objectivity to survive and function.

“The fever is so high, Aiden. Her kidneys and liver are showing signs of severe strain and have since the onset of this damned thing. Now it is becoming very hard to maintain her blood pressure and her pulse becoming erratic. She is not rousing to anything but the most painful stimuli. She is not showing signs of overt pain, Aiden. We will continue to press on as we have been. But the terms of her living will and advance directives are very clear. I know she trusts you implicitly to make the best call for her. There are no decisions to be made right now, and if there were I would strenuously urge you to wait and reflect upon them. But...and I say this to you in the strictest of confidence...she asked you to make this decision for her if need be. Not Tom. You, Aiden.” She paused. “In any case, Tom is not ready to face a decision of this magnitude. Nowhere near ready...no one is ever ready, I suppose, to say goodbye to a loved one, but Tom...”

Aiden reached out blindly, and grasped Kelly’s hand. “I know what you’re trying to say, Kelly...I even asked Merry, once, if she wished to transfer everything over to Tom, and her exact answer was, ‘Oh, God, no.’”

They sat and looked at Merry in silence.

“You need to prepare yourself, Aiden. The time may come for you to...make a final act of love for her. It will be something I know you will carry in your heart for the rest of your life, and affect the relationship you have with Merry’s son, and her son’s father. You need to be aware of what her status is.”

“She isn’t in any pain?”

“She is not, Aiden. We are constantly assessing her. I give you my personal promise I will not have her suffer. She has suffered enough.”

Aiden nodded, his throat so choked he could not speak.

Kelly wordlessly took him into her arms, and let him cry.

When Tom arrived an hour later, Kelly had left word she would speak with him later about Merry’s condition, and Aiden was in the bathroom, having just taken a quick shower. Tom failed to notice how worn Aiden looked, simply because he was so exhausted and worried himself.

“How is she? Any better? I saw Kelly’s text, I couldn’t tell if Merry was any better or worse from what she wrote,” Tom immediately began.

Aiden shook his head. “She’s the same as yesterday, Tom.”

His face showed his clear disappointment. “No better at all? I’d hoped...”

Aiden reached out and grasped his hand, and squeezed it. “I know, Tom. I know.”

Tom reached out and hissed at finding Merry’s face still so hot as he lovingly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Has she responded to anything? Have you spoken to her about Liam?”

“No, Tom...she is sleeping so soundly. I am simply letting her rest.”

Tom latched onto this idea quickly. “You’re right, you’re right, of course...she needs her rest. I won’t disturb her. I’ll simply sit and make sure she isn’t alone...”

Aiden gave Tom a quick, one-armed “man-hug” and left.

The following day, Aiden was settling Liam down for his afternoon nap, and allowed himself to check his phone—again—in the hopes of an update.

From Kelly:

Regret to inform you data indicates you are closer to having to make a decision.

With feet made of lead, he walked to his closet, and pulled out a box that had a single layer of duct tape sealing it shut, and opened it with his pocket knife. He needed to go through it all, one more time.

When he opened the sealed lid, he was surprised to find a envelope bearing a seal with Merry’s monogram on the back. “What...Merry...? This is not supposed to be in here,” he muttered, and carefully opened it. “Merry, I beg of you, I cannot take any surprises right now, woman, I can’t...”

Inside the envelope were smaller envelopes: one, her distinctive handwriting instructed, “To be read before you have to decide” and the other, “To be read after the decision has been made, and done.”

Aiden looked at Liam, sleeping peacefully not four feet from where he stood, trying desperately not to fall apart, and noiselessly left the bedroom, so he could sit in the bath with the door locked, his back against the door.

He opened the “before” letter, and saw it was dated long before he knew who Liam’s father was, but after they had settled the living will and other legal papers for her end of life wishes:

“My dearest Aiden:

“If I know you like I think I do, you are wondering how on earth I got these letters into your box after you taped it shut. To which I have to say: really, Aiden? Only ONE layer of duct tape? And here’s a hint that will serve you well in the future...ALWAYS tape the bottom shut, as well...”

Aiden grabbed the box and flipped it over, and sure enough: he could see where Merry had skillfully cut open the bottom layer of tape and covered it over again so it looked undisturbed upon a cursory glance from the top. He had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the peal of hysterical laughter that was threatening to erupt from his mouth. “Honestly, Merry...”

Her letter continued:

“I am also willing to bet you are worrying yourself into a misery, trying to decide it now is the right time, or if you should wait...what is the best thing to do? What would I want? Are you rushing? Should you get another opinion? Are there other options? 

“...and worst of all...

“How are you going to look Liam in the eye and tell him someday that you made this choice?

“Well, here are the answers for you, my dearest friend, because I cannot bear to think of you in such pain:

“—if you are even looking at this letter, then yes. Yes, it is the right time. Because you love me so well, you would never even think about making this decision otherwise. What would waiting accomplish? Prolonging it another day? Two days? A week? To what purpose? If you can come up with a real answer to what waiting will accomplish, then, perhaps, yes, put it off a bit...and that is the best thing to do. But if there is no reason to wait, then there are no real other options. No other opinions. And someday, you will look at Liam in the eye, and tell him you made this decision because you loved me so well, there was no other choice to be made.

“The last night you expect me to be present, if you feel that guilt will eat you alive for the knowledge of it, spend it with me one last time, playing tunes you know that I’ve loved hearing you play so well. Then kiss me, and know I will be watching over you until we meet again, and meet we shall. 

“Love never dies, Aiden. And while I may not have been able to give you the same love I have given to Tom...it is because I gave it to him first, and once given, could never be taken away. Nor would you ask me to do so, for once given, can never be taken away in the full measure. You deserve so much better than an abridged version. You deserve nothing less than the full score.

“And I do love you, Aiden Forsythe. Thank you for everything that I have written above, but most of all, thank you for having been my friend, and for this one last favor. You are, and always have been, the one who has held me up, held me together, and most importantly, held and will continue to hold my beloved son Liam as I no longer able to do so.

“Meredith Skye”

The letter fell from between his nerveless fingers. He sat, for many moments, simply breathing, for he was able to do nothing else.

His phone beeped, and he looked at it.

From Tom:

Aiden, I don’t...she won’t open her eyes to look at me anymore. Kelly says she isn’t hurting, but...she doesn’t respond to my words or touch, and not even the incessant shrieking warnings from these machines jar her, and you know how she hates those sounds...was she this out of it last night?

Aiden responded:

Tom, I am bringing my violin to play for her tonight. I think that will help her, a lot.

Tom texted back immediately, much heartened by this idea. He was certain Merry would respond to that.

Aiden rose, found his violin, and began tuning it.

He arrived at Merry’s bedside, carrying his violin and a vast amount of coffee. Tom was seated at Merry’s side, his head resting on the bed next to where he had clasped her small hand in his. Merry’s skin was pale, almost grey, whereas Tom’s was flushed.

“Tom?”

Tom awoke with a start, and his head turned towards Merry’s face without even thinking about it. Seeing she had not moved, he sat up slowly, and began to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, Aiden...yeah, Kelly said they could shut those alarms down, there’s a central bank...no sense in giving both of us headaches and shredded nerves...so I guess I fell asleep.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I brought a lot of coffee, help yourself, I know for a fact it’s better than what’s available in the floor machines...”

“Ah, no, thank you. I hope once I get Liam settled for the night to get some sleep myself. If I have a load of caffeine, I won’t rest a wink.”

Both men conveniently ignored the fact that neither would be able to truly get a decent’s night rest.

“Liam getting to sleep for you alright then?”

“Not too badly,” Tom lied. He had been holding Liam in his arms until his son fell asleep, which was wildly contrary to his normal good sleep habits. As to who was being comforted by this new arrangement, it was difficult to say. Once Liam was well and truly enjoying the sleep of an exhausted preschooler, only then did Tom get up and leave his son’s room.

“Good, good...”

Tom looked wistfully at Merry. Aiden could tell he did not wish to leave her side. Did he know, somehow? Did he have a sense, an intuition his beloved Mozart was slipping further and further away from him?

“Liam is waiting for you, Papa Bear,” Aiden prompted him gently. “He can’t wait to tell you all about his walk this morning...the keyword to take away from the adventure is what Merry doesn’t know...” he stopped. He had been about to joke, in the camaraderie of men against women, nay, fathers and uncles and suchlike against mothers, that what Merry did not know would not hurt her, but found he could not continue. Abruptly, he turned away to look out the window. “He had an exciting morning,” he concluded.

This time, it was Tom who gave him the one-armed hug, before departing.

“Merry, your son is fine,” explained Aiden, before he turned around to look at her on the bed again. “It’s a well known fact boys need to eat at least a pound of dirt in order to grow. Scientific truth. Look it up.”

“I can vouch for you.”

He turned his head to see Kelly leaning against the doorframe, a tired smile on her face.

“Kelly, do you ever go home?”

“Oh, Aiden, didn’t you know? Home is where the heart is, and my heart is here.” She approached him carefully. “I saw Tom leave. I have not given him fact and figures, and he does not know to ask for them. He asks me general questions and I give him general answers. I have not lied nor misled him...but I have not been as painfully honest as I could have been, either. I will give him the unvarnished truth tomorrow...I am holding hope, for one more night. If it is foolish of me, then he at least has one more night of it...and if it is not, then why disturb him? He is already in torment.”

Aiden nodded mechanically. “Is there any hope, Kelly, or...?”

She held her hands up. “Aiden, I am flooding her poor body with everything I think she can withstand at this point...because there is nothing left to lose.”

Again, he nodded, and opened his case.

“Bless you, you sweet darling,” Kelly sighed. “Are you going to play for her, then?”

“I will keep it down,” Aiden promised, as he began to apply rosin to his bow.

“I’m not worried about the noise.”

“Then Kelly, I plan on playing for her all night through...a concert for one.”

The doctor’s eyes softened. “Of course. I should have realized. I will make sure you have the privacy you require.”

Aiden played...

Old favorites. Folk tunes, such as “Ashokan Farewell and “Scarborough Faire.” Older melodies, as Merry always had a soft place in her heart for Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge over Troubled Waters,” “April Come She Will.” The newer tunes that he always gave her a hard time about, but now had tears coursing down his face, as he played them as tenderly as with as much love as his fingers could convey, like “The Prayer” and “You Raise Me Up.” But it wasn’t until he started pieces from her beloved Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit films that he felt his heart truly begin to break. She loved them so much, but could barely play or listen to them after she broke with Tom, she had confided to him. She had played them for Tom...and now, Aiden was determined to play them all for her, as many as he could, even as his fingers protested as fiercely as his heart did. It had been years since he played so many pieces at once. But by the gods, he was going to play them for her...May It Be. Into the West. In Dreams. The Last Goodbye...as many as he could manage.

The tears were streaming down his face as he bowed The Last Goodbye when the door came open, and Kelly came in, waving strips of paper at him. He dropped his bow, upset. She’d promised him privacy. This was his chance to give something back to Merry, something she’d given to Tom and not enjoyed since, and now he was giving it back to her, and now it was spoiled...

Kelly was...throwing her arms around him, before he could even set the violin down. “Aiden! Aiden, you bloody miracle worker! Ever since you started playing, her numbers started improving, I swear to God, it’s like a miracle! You need to see these numbers, it’s...her blood pressure, pulse, her temperature, you need to see these numbers, Aiden...!”

“She’s showing signs of improvement, then?” Aiden was refusing to believe.

“Aiden, I’m saying the only decision you have to worry about for the immediate future is what you’re going to play for an encore.”

His face broke into such a wide smile, it is a wonder it didn’t split his face into pieces. “Oh, that,” he said. “Piece of cake.” 

First he hugged Kelly until she squealed.

Then he broke into a gentle but spirited version of “Considering Hobbits” as dawn began to break across the horizon...

...and he saw Merry stir a bit, and give the slightest of dream smiles.

He bent down, and kissed her forehead. It was still hot. She still looked quite ill.

But he knew she was still in there.

“Love you, Skye,” he whispered fiercely. “There and back again.”

When Tom came later, he found Aiden running his hands under cold water.

“Aiden, your fingers!” Tom whispered, aghast. “What did you do, man, play all night long?”

“She seemed to like it,” Aiden replied nonchalantly.

“Did she wake up? Say anything?” Tom asked eagerly.

“Nooo...but I thought I saw her smile,” Aiden answered honestly.

Tom never did learn how close he came to losing his Mozart over those few days. Aiden never mentioned to Merry how he played his heart out that night, thinking it might be his last chance to be alone with her—knowing full well if Kelly was to break the news as they knew it to Tom the following day, it would take a bomb to dislodge him from her side, even if it wasn’t her last night drawing breath.

A year later, however, there was a changing of the guard. Aiden was formally relieved of his duties as Merry’s medical proxy, not that there was the overwhelming need there had been before, as Merry’s condition had improved drastically from Dr. Kelly Florence’s treatment, and she had never looked back. Merry refused to say the word “remission,” in fact she would become very touchy and cross if the word was used in front of her, but the truth was she had not had a reoccurrence of leukemia in over a year at this point. 

Aiden, Tom, Liam, and Merry were living comfortably together, an odd family arrangement by any definition, but it worked and suited them perfectly. For awhile Merry needed to stay close to Sloan Kettering, but as time passed, she was no longer required to come in as often, and she was obviously growing stronger and healthier. Tom would come and go as his jobs required it, and it was during one of his absences Aiden approached Merry with the idea of having Tom become her proxy, instead.

“Merry, I am not saying I no longer wish to be your voice,” he earnestly explained to her. “But think about it. I am aware...well aware...of how very close you and Tom are,” he teased, for the sheer joy of watching her face color as he made his voice more suggestive and leered at her like a caricature villain.

“Stop it,” she muttered. “You came back very early, and Liam was at a sleepover...”

Aiden playfully bumped her shoulder and continued, “Just think about it. I will be your proxy until the end of time if you wish. However, as the situation has changed, I wanted to let you know I was open to the idea if you wanted to rethink things. I believe Tom could handle things better, since you’re now...”

“Don’t say it,” Merry interrupted him, pointing her finger at him.

He held his hands up in the air. “What I was going to say, Madam, was you are now enjoying a state of health where if such a decision had to be made, it would either come as a complete shock to everyone involved, because you had your head locked in some musical clouds and stepped in front of a bus, or else we had a long lead time, and we were all starting from the beginning again...in short, like anyone else in the world. No corporate knowledge required.”

Merry sat back on the sofa they were sharing, looking at him for a long moment. Liam was asleep, and she and Aiden had started watching a movie that had lost their interest about half an hour into the viewing. She tugged at her hair, a short curl that barely covered her ear, a nervous habit she had acquired now that her hair regrowth was just long enough begin to annoy her instead of be a source of wonder. 

Aiden batted her hand away. “Knock it off, Shirley Temple.”

Merry growled at him, “I’ll show you Shirley Temple...” and tackled him.

This was new, this aspect of their relationship. Aiden had never known feisty Merry. Playful Merry. Non-pregnant, non-puking Merry.

Healthy Merry.

As they wrestled and battled for dominance with throw pillows, they were all while mindful to keep their laughing and smack-talking volume to a dull roar lest they awaken Liam and then it would be hours before they get him back to sleep. Aiden easily pinned Merry under two sofa cushions and smugly declared, “I win, Shirley,” and leaned back gently on her as she threatened him with dire retribution if he did not release her immediately...and “stop calling me Shirley!”

As Aiden allowed her to fight her way out, he reflected it was a good thing he had never met this Merry, because if he had, he would have fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with her, and it would have been soul-rendingly painful when he realized she could have never seen him as anything more than a friend.

But then, as he observed her crawl and snarl, he realized something even more profound: he never could have met this Merry, as she had not yet come into being. This Merry was the result of everything that had come before, and he was just happy to be a part of her life now, in whatever capacity, whatever role he could be.

Merry settled the cushions back to their proper places, and ignored Aiden’s irritating smirk. For all that she had been laughing and growling and playing the game, her mind had never thinking about the proposition Aiden had posed to her.

Aiden had a definite pattern of behavior: he would think often bring up a serious topic he was uncomfortable with, and then deliberately clown around afterwards to lighten his tension and the general atmosphere.

As he had just done.

But why would this make him so uncomfortable? It shouldn’t, for all the reasons he just brought up. If anything, he should be happy. Relieved. Merry knew, logically, she was doing so much better. She knew her relationship with Tom was rock-solid. She knew that Aiden was also comfortable and confident with his place in her life, as well.

“Aiden,” she said, pinning him with her best “Mama” stare, “fetch me the box.”

“Box?” Aiden parried, immediately beginning to sweat. “What box?”

“Oh, don’t even, Aiden. The box in your closet with the duct tape all the way in the upper right hand corner.”

Aiden’s sweat was cold now. “How do you even know about...”

“Because that is where you’ve always kept it, Aiden. It’s at the very top in the corner, so no one can see it, and it’s on the right because it’s your dominant hand. So go.”

Confused but still feeling caught, Aiden did as “Mama” told him, because none of the males in the home was immune to the Mama-voice.

Once she had it in her lap, Merry flipped the box over and pried up the tape. She did not worry about being neat, and the tape came up leaving strips of the cardboard hanging from it. She seemed to take fiendish glee in the messy job. She did not want this to be a clandestine affair. She wanted this box to be as visibly opened as possible.

Aiden opened, then closed his mouth again as he realized what was about to happen.

Merry went straight for her envelope...and found it open...and found one missing.

“Oh, Aiden,” she whispered compassionately. “So, it was like that, then.”

She set the box aside, and opened her arms. For all that Aiden was taller, he still curled into her hug to rest his head on her shoulder. “When?” was all she asked. 

All Aiden would say was, “Honey, the cytokine release...you were very sick. Kelly...she never told Tom how bad you were. But she did tell me, as your medical proxy, that you were...it was bad, Merry.”

Merry was very still, looking ahead of her at nothing, her eyes fixated at some point in the distance that only she could see. “Did you violate any of the directives?”

“No! I never had to make any decisions at all. But, we came close, Meredith Skye. Closer than I want to think about. When Kelly told me that you were getting to the limits stated in your living will, I opened the box. I wanted to read through everything one last time, to make absolutely sure I knew exactly what you wanted. Imagine my surprise when I found this envelope waiting for me that I hadn’t put in the box to being with...”

Merry’s face smiled, very slowly. “Did it help?”

“Gods, yes...Merry, I don’t think I could have faced everything without it. As it turned out, you began to improve that very night, but...the letter made a huge difference.”

Merry squeezed her dear friend tightly. “I am glad, for the obvious reasons, that you didn’t have to make any decisions...but also because you didn’t have to carry that burden. I am so sorry, Aiden. So, so sorry to have put you through that.” Aiden could feel her tears, as they fell into his hair.

“Don’t cry, Merry,” he pulled himself up, and wiped her face. “I am honored to have been the one who has been there for you. The letter you wrote me...I’ve read it until I can recite it, and I will never lose it. And I am not leaving you now. I will still always be here for you. You understand me, don’t you? You get me...right?”

Merry looked into Aiden’s anxious eyes, the same anxious eyes she looked up into almost a decade ago, in the hallway of the music building, outside the women’s bathroom...the same eyes that were terrified but resolute when her water broke, terrified but tender when she had to give that horrible last push to bring Aiden into the world, determined when he all but shoved her into a car to get her to a doctor’s appointment, unwavering when they signed the sheaf of papers in from of them...unhesitating when they boarded a flight for London. 

“Yes, Aiden, I get you,” she answered.

They sat in silence for awhile, not sure what to say next, before Merry looked at Aiden, and grinned. 

“You’ve always been the one to ‘get me,’ and now it’s your turn.”

With that cryptic statement, she stood and kissed his head, and told him goodnight.

Once she was in bed, she received her goodnight video chat from Tom: “All well back at home then, Merry?”

“Yes, Tom. Miss you dreadfully, and can’t wait until you are home as well. Only three more sleeps!”

Tom looked at his phone and laughed at her phrase, knowing well this is exactly how she phrased it with Liam earlier when he was tucked in...he hated missing bedtime/storytime with their son, but he had a shoot that couldn’t be avoided. “So, how many things is he racking up to tell me when I return?”

“Heaps,” Merry responded cheerfully, as she pulled and tugged at the blankets to get them just as she wanted. Tom sighed happily, watching her build a nest. How he adored this woman...

“We all are, come to that,” she added. “Liam has stories...and so do I. Even Aiden has stories. And we’re all going to share them.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Tom saw Merry was sleepy, so her added, “but for now, I think it’s bedtime for all little cellists. Goodnight, Mozart.”

She blew him a raspberry, and then blew him a kiss, as he laughed and ended the call.

Aiden probably wouldn’t tell the full story, but it was time he told his nonetheless, Merry decided. He needed to tell it, so he could close the book, enjoy peace in his heart with the closure, and begin to find his own story.

Tagging: @winterisakiller @ciaodarknessmyheart @villainousshakespeare @alexakeyloveloki @tinchentitri  @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @theheartofpenelope @sabine-leo @wegingerangelica @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @jessiejunebug @scorpionchild81@theoneanna @blacksuitofdoom​ @mishaandthebrits​ @rjohnson1280​ @ms-cellanies​ @noplacelikehome77​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @catsladen​

[traumatized-motherfuckers]

CPTSD relationship patterns on repeat

Listen wherever you stream, search “complex trauma” and subscribe. Or, find episodes, blog posts, and a private support community at t-mfrs.com

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Things I’ve gotten good at throughout this Trauma journey:

Seeing connections between where I’m from and where I am

Thinking for the first time about where I’m going

Letting myself have emotions

Letting those emotions go

Redirecting my energy and attention away from ruminating

Being accountable for my own feelings

Being accountable for times of being a shithead

Listening and validating other humans

Listening and validating myself

Recognizing what circumstances do/don’t work for me

Realizing how my codependency plays with relationships

Letting go of self-hate inner critic talk

Reframing events with reasonable views

Accepting myself, even when I first want to thrash myself

Semi-consistently caring for myself

Setting realistic boundaries and goals

Sleeping

Things I’m still shitty at:

Letting my overwhelm skew reality

Anxious self-slave-driving

Being a snarky turd when my head is overloaded

Taking on other people’s energies and emotions

Trusting myself in all areas of life

Forming healthy relationships.

Okay, it’s that last one that has me most perpetually fighting feelings of panic and doom.

This seems like an apt way to kick off the new year. I think a lot of us have questions about relationships and would like to improve our operations in 2021. I can also tell you, this one is extremely appropriate looking back at the last year of my life.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned in the past few spins around the sun has been how romance does - and definitely doesn't - fit into my life. I think 2020 was particularly packed full of important lectures and pop quizzes, many of which I failed. It felt like knowing that the correct answer was C, but finding my hand filling in the circle for A every time, anyways.

This is a terrible ideaaaa... and I'm doing it. Pause for about 2 months. Now I'm upset that it was a terrible idea.

Yeah, it's been great. But I have no one to blame but myself. Because as much as I've worked on this trauma management life of mine, I haven't done a good job of working on the relationship aspect of it. I've let my usual patterns dominate. And that's what needs to be examined today.

I mean. Can someone tell me about healthy relationships in functional terms? What IS that even?

Look, I’m not hoping that someone will pop up and share some, “mutual respect, good communication, trust, support, care, similar goals, similar beliefs…” sort of shit. I fucking KNOW about the idealistic, flowery terms that all the light-hearted couples counselors recommend establishing for a happy relationship. I get it.

I’m not ignorant when it comes to the ways humans should interact. I’ve had enough experience with friendships and relationships, alike, to understand the basics of person-to-person interactions. I know I talk about myself like I’ve been a feral child locked in a cage for 20 years, but the truth is that if you met me on the streets I’d probably seem like a normal, well-adapted, personable human being. That Leo Ascendant component of my personality tricks people into actually thinking I’m an extrovert who wants attention. (Hilarious, explains a lot of comments I’ve gotten in my past)

Nah, I’m not asking for the trite descriptions of a healthy partnership that everyone who’s ever been friends on a basic girl’s Facebook has seen before in cursive writing on top of a washed-out pink-tinted field. Those are empty sounding words that I don’t believe most couples manage to put into action, no matter how many selfies they take together or labradoodles they adopt.

For me, Fuckers, the mystery isn’t, “in a fairytale world, how do two humans interact to have a lifelong bliss factory?” Respect, trust, appreciation, mutual understanding… blah blah blah. What the fuck ever.

The real question is how.

And, shit, let me just be honest with all of you - not just the Patrons who’ve already heard my personal bitching - it’s on my mind because I did a thing I definitely should not have… recently, I got into a new romantic relationship that I definitely was not looking for. I’ll spare you all the details today, but know that I’ve entered it kicking and screaming, and it’s caused me a lot of grief already.

Let the life shittery begin! Can’t wait to be destroyed.

Today, I want to bring this personal fire burning in my gut into the podcast. Motherfuck me, if it hasn’t become difficult to ignore… plus, I know that a lot of us Traumatized folks are in a similar boat when it comes to relationship confusion, unhealth, and destruction. So let’s just count the ways that I have no idea how to do this right and I’m destined to be let down by my poor choices.

This time around, I'm bringing you a list of all the ways I tend to fuck things up with other humans. In part, due to Complex Trauma. In other part, probably due to my own personal shortcomings. Listed in no particular order. On a later date, I'm going to be revisiting a lot of these patterns as I examine how early life set a lot of us up for a lot of abuse acceptance in greater detail. Stick around for those continuations on romantic disaster, if this sounds like you, too.

I'm talking about:

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists, and addicts

Emotional codependency

Mistrust

… That turns into willful blind belief of their words

Inadequacy

Parenting analogues

Authority figures & disappointment

Misdirected commitment

Learned helplessness

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists and addicts

Who has bad taste in partners? Over and over and over again? It’s me! And probably a lot of you.

Maybe that’s not fair. Maybe they’ve been wonderful guys who just didn’t mesh well with my inner or outer world… but I can tell you, there have been some similarities, and they don’t bode well for a happy future together.

You know me by now. Difficulty connecting with “normal” humans, no interest in small talk, a huge fan of deep emotional honesty, a bit gritty and assholeish, tends to be repelled by anything too widely embraced by the general public, definitely comes with a difficult past, fears of the future, and ongoing challenges in the present.

So, who do you think I get along with? Ivy leaguers with stable, supportive families, an optimistic outlook, and a 20-year plan? Or equally messy and complex humans with a set of neuroses handed down from their unexamined early traumas that make them similarly bitter and disillusioned with life? Just… probably hidden from immediate sight.

Grown men who’ve responsibly built a life for themselves with ambition, personal insight, and balance? Or man-children who’re still figuring out that they can’t drink every night of the week if they want to be functional in life and financially sound? But... with their addictions hidden behind “an appreciation for fine whiskies” or a necessity to sample the craft beer they brew.

Independent, confident humans who have no problem running their own world like a boss and trust that I’m capable of doing the same, with integrity and respect? Or distrustful turds who need me to be in their sight, half-directing their lives at all times unless I’m aiming to be accused of cheating, lying, and being unable to care for myself? Only… they hide their controlling and aggressive tendencies behind go-with-the-flow facades in the beginning.

If you guessed “B” in all three examples, you are correct!

Plus... so, so many musicians. Like, the last 6 of them have either subscribed to guitar or drum camp. And that hasn't been a purposeful decision - those are just the men I get along with until we hate each other.

It's always a rapid connection, a mutual respect for our interests in the arts, and a shared shitty attitude that starts out directed at the world and ends directed at each other. So many emotions. So many ups and downs. So many proclamations of "I can't live without you!" until the day we run in opposite directions and never look back.

Is that a coincidence? Or are all musical folk a bit wild? I hate to generalize, but I can tell you with great amusement that if you start typing "Are all musicians..." into Google, it will autocomplete with "cheaters, narcissists, and crazy." It also suggests "rich," but I can tell you for a fact that isn't true. The narcissist thing... uh.... very well might be correct. But I'll leave that for someone else to study.

So, I don't know what to make of this trend. There do seem to be some commonalities between the musicians in my past life - and they do seem to be categorized by the instrument of choice. For instance, drummers are never concerned with my time, and guitarists are emotional catastrophes. But what do I know? Can't make sweeping conclusions... I, at least, need a larger sample size. With my track record, I'm sure I'll have the numbers soon enough.

Congratulations if you predicted nothing but unstable disasters in my past. It's true, I’m an idiot. Okay, that’s not fair. No inner critic talk. Get out of here, Pam and Karen.

The fact of the matter is, I am a terrible judge of character when I start sensing a connection. I tend to connect with people who have complicated lives and inner worlds, just like I do. And from what I can tell, that is always my downfall.

Challenging connections

Let’s go ahead and chalk this one up to never having close connections or support growing up.

You know what I always wanted, hoped for, and idealized as a kid? Someone loving me. Another human actually understanding my weirdness and signing on for more. The idea of a human who wanted to know what I thought and felt. The option of spending time with someone and feeling cared for. Also, somebody finding me attractive, instead of being repulsed by my ass-length ginger hair, flat chest, dorky hand-me-downs, bleach-stained horse sweaters, and buck teeth... also would have been a dream come true.

I’m pretty sure that growing up lonely didn’t help me in any regard when it came to my later-in-life relationship problems. Starving for connection apparently puts you in a state of deprivation, where you’re likely to think anything is better than the empty feeling inside. You know, just for the rest of your life or so.

To this day, if I meet someone and we’re able to converse without abundant clarifications or apologies for the prickly things that come out of my mouth as dry humor or unbendable opinions… we’re on a roll. If we can connect over shared perspectives on humans, life, and psychology… things are getting more serious. If we can honestly talk about the ways we’re horrible to ourselves and joke about our shared challenges in figuring out what the point of this shitty slip-and-slide of life is about… uh oh, this might be a real connection.

And so, it makes sense that I connect with all the most complicated people you’d ever meet. And we connect INTENSELY. I’m complicated, myself, and I look for folks who can accept it without their heads exploding. I’m never going to be happy holding conversations with Sports Bar Joe or Pretty Boy Blaine. They’re never going to understand the internal strife that dominates my world. I’m never going to understand how they can be all *happy,* *close with their families,* and *laid back about life.*

Gross. I can’t even say the words.

But give me the angstiest, most anxious, most misunderstood dude on the block, and we’re likely to get along swimmingly. We’ll talk over beers until the birds start to chirp. We’ll joke in our native tongues, playing with words, obscure references, and dry humor as if we’ve known each other for 25 years. We’ll share secrets about our tumultuous inner worlds and the ways that we can’t seem to get our heads on straight enough to keep our ships on course.

And the next thing you know, we’ll be incestuously connected with a somewhat false sense of intimacy that erupts out of the gates. “No one has ever understood me the way you do. I can really be myself around you. I’ve never had such easy conversations about this shit before.”

… That’s about the point when I lose all perspective. There’s a tunnel running from my face to this dude’s heart. I stop seeing things for what they are. I project a kinder, gentler, more well-intended personality on the subject of my feels. I quickly turn a blind eye to all the shit they’re doing that I wholeheartedly hate or otherwise cause my red flags to be unpacked.

I feel like I know them, inside and out. I feel like I can help them - like we can help each other - to sort through this dumb world we’ve been born into and all the circumstances holding us back. A real Sid and Nancy storyline emerges. No one gets him like I do. If only they could see the things I see. We’re just two broken souls who found each other, a little rough around the edges, but we see the diamonds underneath. And we’re in this battle together from now on.

Yeah, right.

Sooooo… This is how I wind up with the unpredictable narcissists who seem like nice guys, the secret addicts who keep their substance abuse hidden from everyone, and the emotional abusers who are ready to leverage my mental health admissions against me the first time they get the chance. Dudes who have highly emotional worlds and no idea how to deal with them. Men who don’t want to explore their own shortcomings and instead choose avoidant courses in life.

And, again, the musicians. So, so many musicians. I really am coming to think that they’re the most fucked up people of all - and that's saying a lot coming from me. Generally speaking, I've seen that there’s no sense of personal responsibility, an obsession with themselves, and a hidden inferiority complex that turns them into bitchy little dogs when they feel threatened. What’s with that, anyways? Can you guys try to be more original in your plight to be the most original?

Okay, anyways. Sorry to keep dragging on musicians.

The point is, my attempts at relationships start out on the wrong foot. Choosing the wrong partner is a pretty surefire way to dash all hopes for those fluffy ideals I mentioned earlier. No one is going to respect me, listen to me, or support me when they’re too busy dealing with their own alcoholism, abandonment issues, and narcissistic flailings… or, not dealing with them, to be more specific.

We aren’t going to be able to work through things when they’re consumed with being the king of the world, hiding from all negative emotions, and trying to keep their head away from analysing their own actions. Hell, it’ll be difficult to even find the time for serious talks, since they’re so busy traveling to band practices, hustling away for barely-paying gigs, and staring at their social media while they count the ways they’re victims of the universe.

Choose imbalanced, mentally ill, self-serving partners… get unhealthy, controlling, unpredictable relationships. Pretty goddamn obvious. And yet, I still can never seem to see the full picture of the human who’s caught my attention through the fog that’s created by the connection of our shared dysfunctions.

I guess this is where that, “love yourself and get yourself healthy first,” sentiment comes into play, so the connections don’t continue to be as disasterious as your personal experience is. Hopefully I’m on the right path in my own journey, at least. Also, a lot less starved for connection. I got y’all Motherfuckers in the Discord community, for starters. And I’ve become determined to live a life where I support myself and rely on no one outside of Archie’s snuggles, for finishers.

Step one: Be careful about who you deem a good person, just because you can share self-deprecating jokes about being nutjobs and similar musical interests. Learn to choose someone who isn’t an even trashier trash human than you are. It’s a start.

Emotional codependency

Hand in hand with forming connections that include deep emotional outpourings and admissions of all the dark things we hide from the light at our office jobs… comes codependency.

I’ve said it before and let me say it again… I didn’t understand codependency until very recently.

In my mind, it was akin to those creepy couples who won’t leave the house without each other, have the same friends, interests, and opinions on everything... and possibly wear matching cat shirts. Those people who never spend time with other humans because they're too busy being shoved up their partner’s ass. The folks who call to check in on each other throughout the day when they’re at work. Gag. Particularly, I imagined those pathetic girls who cry when their boyfriend is out of sight and post 12 pictures a day of them together.

Rightfully, I scoffed and insisted that I didn't have problems with codependency. That’s not me. But it turns out, this view isn’t quite right, so much as I was being an uninformed asshole.

Codependency doesn’t mean you’re a needy, incapable human being who sucks the life power out of someone else, like I used to think. Codependency is a two-way relationship defined by poor boundaries and non-existent emotional regulation. Two humans who see their experiences as one, all the way down to how they feel and how they deal with how they feel. (i.e. turning to their significant other for comfort and emotional control in a time of need instead of working through it by themselves). Relationships where the emotions are transferred from party to party until it's unclear who’s bringing what dish to the gathering. Waking up not knowing how your day is going to be, because it depends on how someone else feels about theirs. Emotional enablement city.

Oh, yeah, when you put it like that, I definitely have issues with codependency.

For me, the codependency is largely going to be emotional. In the past, I didn’t know how to have a relationship of any sort without having a third influence in the mix. There was the person, myself, and our shared emotions... that often called more shots than either of us did.

Because I tend to be on the empath scale (although I do everything I can to fight it out of defense), I think I’m naturally tuned into other people’s emotional and energetic states, for better or for worse. When someone walks into the room with a bad vibe, I feel it to my core. I become so uncomfortable that I take it on myself to try to “fix” the problem for them, and in doing so, I avoid the negative sensation, myself. This is negative reinforcement, if anyone wanted to ABA with me.

That being said, clearly if my boo is having a hard time… it’s not okay. They’re in a shit place and therefore so am I. I must do whatever I can to make it better. To sit down and talk in circles with them, if that’s what relieves some of their tension. To commiserate about how unfair the circumstances are. To validate the negativity that they’re projecting and wallowing in.

Don’t worry though, this goes the other way, too. In the past, I have fully expected my romantic partners to alleviate any inner discomfort that I’ve felt. If I was having a low-down day, I wanted them to cheer me up. If I was full of anxiety, I wanted them to find a way to release it. If I was frustrated with a work situation or coworker, I wanted them to be as angry and indignant as I felt.

So… I guess that doesn’t even sound too off-base to me, at least not when I’m leaning on my teenage expectations of what relationships are supposed to be. In my head, it was always completely ideal that I would wind up with someone who could essentially read my thoughts and comfort me like my family never did. I just wanted someone who would be by my side, thinking about me all the time, and working double time to make sure I was keeping my depression and anxiety on the up-and-up. Is that too much to ask? Uh… yeah, it is.

Maybe in a fairytale love story like the ones I saw in teenage romance movies growing up, this is the perfect way for two broken misfits to interact. “We’re both so damaged and hurt that no one has ever really seen us - but now we have each other to lick our shared wounds.” Yeah, romantic. Also really fucked up and dangerous in the real world.

The problem is, after a few months of this, it gets pretty hard to determine what’s my experience and what’s yours. The emotions become so transitive that it can be invigorating, immersive, overwhelming, and exhausting to be in each other’s company, depending on the day and the event. Living together or essentially sharing a residence makes it much worse - there’s no physical barrier between us, so that emotional barrier is even less existent. We don't have to try to text about our woes, we can just unleash them the moment we step foot in the door. Ready or not, your night is about to be ruined by my day, and vice-versa.

How does this go wrong? Uh, let’s count the ways.

1. My emotional management was never up to par, in the first place. Having your feelings catapulted my way effectively pushes me off the balance beam that I was already wobbling on. If I was having a difficult day but holding it together on my own through coping techniques and reasonable thinking - fucking forget it, that’s over now. We’re both in a shitty state now. Great. In the context of trying to recover from mental health issues… yeah, it’s a fucking disaster. Being retriggered by your partner or sucked into a depressive undertow when you’re trying to make positive change is a losing battle.

2. I never learned how to cope with my own emotions. There was generally someone else for me to hurtle them at, and our subsequent hours of bitching would give me the comfort I was looking for. I didn’t need to learn to manage my feelings - I always had a glorified babysitter to keep me alive. I never had to be accountable for my inner world. I never had to look at things with logic or reason. I could let myself spiral and trust that my best friend or boyfriend would catch me before I slipped down the drain.

3. It becomes impossible to talk about issues - personal or shared. When you’re already sharing emotions there’s an explosive effect when conflict is brought up. Neither one of us knows how to handle our shit, we expect the other person to hold us up with kid gloves, annnd now that person is the source of my distress? We’re both completely beside ourselves, upset, hurt, and angry… and it’s towards each other? Now who the fuck do we call? There's a huge sense of confusion and betrayal. No one has the skills to de-escalate the argument or return to a normal emotional state.

4. How do you break up when half of your existence is in the body of another human? You can’t mentally or emotionally separate yourself from them. Physically separating yourself feels like ripping out a few of your organs and leaving them on the streets. And, who’s going to keep you afloat when you’re going through the pain of the break up? That’s the job of your partner, afterall… can’t have a vacant desk sitting here. It’s best to just suck it up and stick with it. No one would understand what you’ve both been through together, anyways.

In a word, that’s codependency.

Not what people think it is. Not what our culture describes it as. Not so easy to spot until you’re educated and honest with yourself… plus, probably viewing things through the lenses of hindsight.

Definitely a sneaky recipe for disaster when you let it take over a well-intended, emotionally transparent, highly connective relationship. And, Motherfuckers, I’ve always tended to.

 Head to t-mfrs.com for more!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 10

Here it is guys! Here’s part 10, we’re at 23k words! I made the master post with links to the story and will just link that at the top from here on out! 

Link to master post here. 

Enjoy! 

__________________________________

Ten months passed, faster than I could have imagined.

The store “Prosperity” took off. True to her word, Milane had improved upon my own designs, and after showcasing the dresses at a few parties, (I had reluctantly resumed my social responsibilities, reminding myself it was for the business), and the orders came in, faster than we could fill them. Expanding production, Milane hired a few more seamstresses, and even then we were stretched thin. We continued making and selling new designs, however, with plans to open up another store before the next season.

The Duchy thrived alongside my business. The officials I “retired” left without further complaint, and their replacements worked hard to gain experience and independence. Until they were completely trained however, the bulk of the work was left to Nile, Terrence and Me. We met weekly, going over accounts and day to day issues in great detail. Fortunately we worked well together and rather than resenting the hands-on approach I took, they seemed relieved.

“The Duke just always told us to do what we thought best in difficult matters.” Nile confided one day. “But with no idea of the overall financial state of the Duchy, it’s hard to make these sorts of decisions. With you in charge, things are running much smoother.” 

Seeming to realize the improperness of what he had said, he panicked, waving his hands.  “Not saying that the Duke is incompetent! He’s a very kind man! And as a leader… of course he…” he paused as if trying to think of something else good to say about my father.

I chuckled, trying to relieve the poor man’s misery. “It’s fine. Father’s gifts lie… in other directions. “ I had no idea as to what direction that was, but as long as he stayed out of my way, I was content.

No longer hemorrhaging money, I was able to work on improving the infrastructure of the area, improving the safety and stability of the roads, increasing the schools and preparing some previously unused land for farming. 

Marile, looking ahead to our second store, convinced me to use some of our profits to open up a vocational school for seamstresses, taught by people she trusted. We charged a minimal fee, funding those who couldn’t afford it, and waited excitedly as they gained skill. I planned to hire some of the top students upon graduation, and as the number of skilled workers increased, the duchy of Armeny began gaining a reputation as the place to buy well-made clothes.

The success spread, and I was already being approached by other trades to expand the school to cover their professions as well.

__________________________________

I continued my lessons with Jim and Nate, although the assigned reading was decreased as more and more of my time was taken up with the business and the duchy. Instead, Jim had me bring practical issues and questions to the class regarding economics or governmental structure, and we worked though it together. I was often able to implement some of the answers we came up with, continuing to benefit my home.

 Nate and I settled into a comfortable pace. He was the calm one in class, frequently mediating between Jim and me when we began to get too loud about a certain subject. He listened well, and when he did speak up it was with purpose, often coming up with ideas that caught me by surprise.

“You should build a place that provides food for people who are starving.” After class one day, he was escorting me back to the carriage in thoughtful silence before suddenly bursting out with that suggestion.

I stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s something that you obviously care deeply about, and since you’ll manage to free up some extra funds with the changes we came up with today, I thought it might work! ” He continued as he stopped as well, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “Think about it, a place where people who are starving can come by and have a meal. You can ask for donations and volunteers to offset some of the costs, it should be doable…”

He trailed off, staring at me with an uncertain expression. “Sorry, I got excited on my own, maybe it isn’t the best idea.”

__________________________________

“Do you have any food?” A young boy pulled on my leg, the bones too prominent on his already small for his size face.

I looked down at him, already feeling lightheaded and weak. I hadn’t been able to find work. I hadn’t had a full meal since Rig’s gang had been split up most of them lost, dead or imprisoned. I had begged on the street, only managing to earn enough for some bread, hardly enough to fill my stomach. I wanted to cry, but held my tears, they wouldn’t solve anything.

The boy saw my distress and slumped, sitting down beside me, as I hung my head, feeling hopeless.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, using a dirty hand to gently pat my head, trying to comfort me. “I’ll help you.” A small hard object was pressed into my hand. I looked down at it, surprised. It was a regular stone, a little shiny but otherwise there was nothing special about it.

“It’s my lucky stone.” He tried to smile, tried to appear brave for me. “You can have it. It will protect you.”

I thought about the bread in my pocket, it wasn’t enough to fill me, but for a child…

“Here.”

I handed him the bread, leaning back with my head against a wall, closing my eyes to keep tears from falling. I wasn’t going to last much longer. I had long given up hope for myself. But that boy... maybe he would survive.

And that was something.

__________________________________

“Lenora?” Nate called out, concerned. I shook my head, I had been silent too long, thinking of a different life, a different fate.

One I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I smiled at him; ignoring his visible shock at I did so. “Tell me more about this idea of yours.”

__________________________________

Between running the Duchy and the business, as well as continuing lessons and socializing with the nobility to advertise our new dresses, I was busier than I had ever been before in either of my lives. But despite the long hours and the hard work, I was surprised to find I was happy.

There was still just one thing keeping me from being fully content: 

The royal etiquette classes continued, despite the mastery I had displayed. Mrs. Rendler had greatly increased the speed at which we moved through topics as well as the difficulty in each lesson. The advantage I had gained over the extra three years of training in my previous life dwindled, and I reluctantly began scheduling in time to study those topics as well. 

I grew more and more frustrated each week. With all the other demands on my time, why was I bothering to waste any on learning something I would never use? If I were planning on trying to continue my engagement to the prince this would be worth it, but not even the chance to tackle management on a national scale could tempt me to stand by that worthless prince’s side.

I hid it, as best I could. Mrs. Rendler tried to keep the lessons fun and varied, likely sensing my lack of enthusiasm. We learned new dances, tried exotic foods and studied different cultures. It was interesting and I appreciated the effort the older woman placed on keeping me focused, but there was still one, unavoidable problem with the lessons:

Queen Amerande.

She was present every single week, as she had been in my previous life. Smiling, cheering me on, saying silly jokes to try to make me laugh, and picking arguments with Mrs. Rendler to distract her whenever the lessons were getting too difficult for me … she was every inch the mother I wish I had.

But it was a lie, and every minute I spent next to her was pure torture. 

It all came to a head around ten months after I woke up in this second life. The etiquette lesson had completed early. I was packing up my books, planning to take a walk in the gardens to waste the time before my lesson with Jim and Nate in the treasury. Before I could leave, however, Queen Amerande held out her hand, gently stopping me.

“Can we talk, Lenora?”

I nodded stiffly, disliking the thought of spending any time alone with her.

Her smile slightly sad, she gestured for me to sit down, and after I was settled continued.

“Has your mother returned home yet?” The discomfort on her face made it clear she knew this was not going to be my favorite topic.

I sighed, leaning back and shaking my head. “No, she’s still with her family staying in the southern province.”

Or so she tells us. I thought of the contents of the file Rig had brought me, the second assignment I had given him after the blackmail for the duchy officials. It had only confirmed what I already knew from my previous life, but it had hurt more than I wanted to admit to see it in writing.

“She’s been gone almost a year!” Queen Amerande muttered, looking furious for a few moments before poorly hiding her anger behind a smile, trying not to upset me. After being surrounded by expert liars like Angela and Edith, it was almost amusing to see someone who couldn’t lie well.

That’s not true though is it? She lies all the time when she says she cares about me. My brain whispered to me, but I shrugged it off, not wanting to be distracted by the topic at hand. She was already asking another question.

“Will she be back soon?”

I wish she wouldn’t. In my last life, her trip had only lasted a few months, but that had been due to limited funds and our large amount of debt. Once I had most of our debts cleared, I had sent her some money, and thankfully she had continued to extend her trip as much as possible. The servants seemed grateful for the break from her critical presence and my father… he was happier than he’d been in years. But as relieving as this time away was, it couldn’t last forever.

“She’ll be back in a few weeks, before my sixteenth birthday.” I answered, watching her eyes light up at the topic.

“So yes, about that…” Queen Amerande hesitated, “I knew your mother hadn’t been… around, and your father…”

“Forgot.”

“I’m sure he… remembers… deep down.” She looked angry again, but not at me. “But the point is, I didn’t want you to have to plan your own party, so I’ve been making some arrangements.”

“...” 

“Nothing that can’t be canceled if you don’t feel up to it, but I’d really like for you to have a chance to really have fun and celebrate with friends. You’ve been working so incredibly hard lately.” She smiled. “I know I don’t say this enough but… I’m so proud of you. I heard about the work with the duchy and the vocational school and even that charity to help feed those in need, it’s so amazing. YOU are amazing.”

She turned to the side to get something from her bag. I sat there, trembling, filled with anger, barely able to contain it. My fists were clenched, so tightly that the fingernails dug into my palms, starting to tear through the skin.

“I know it’s a little early, but I want you to have this:” She pulled out a necklace. It was beautiful, thin golden chains delicately interwoven, with a small sapphire amulet hanging from the longest strand. She placed it into my hand. “My mother gave this to me when I was a girl, and although I’m not your biological mother, I think of you as my own.”

My ears were ringing, the jewelry in my hand was cold, but felt like it was burning my skin

“I love you dear, and I always will.”

I could barely breathe, it felt like knives were stabbing me in the heart, I sat there frozen, staring at the gift I had once thought meant everything, but meant nothing.

“No matter what.”

__________________________________

“I love you, and I always will.” Queen Amerande hugged me, patting my back comfortingly with one hand.

I returned the hug, unable to hold back my tears of frustration and embarrassment. After being publicly humiliated at my own birthday party, I had come into the backroom to hide, She had been planning to give me her present, but instead found me a sobbing in a corner, and immediately dropped on the floor, ignoring the creases and dust that gathered on her expensive formal gown, comforting me. Once I had calmed down, she handed me a beautiful necklace, one I had always admired as a child, and reached out, wiping a tear from my face.

“No matter what.”

__________________________________

Thud.

The necklace slipped from my hands, falling to the floor between us.

“Liar.” My voice was quiet, but in the otherwise silent room she could clearly hear me. Her face paled and she tried to reach out for my hand, only to have me pull back, avoiding it.

“Lenora, what…?

“Stop lying. Please.” I forced the words out through gritted teeth, tears gathering in my eyes. “You won’t love me like your own child, and you won’t love me NO MATTER WHAT so please. Don’t lie to me. Don’t fool me into trusting you when you don’t mean it.” 

I stood up, planning to leave, but she ran after me, standing in the doorway, blocking my only exit.

“Let me out.” I ordered, throwing etiquette and caution to the wind.

She shook her head furiously, her carefully styled hair coming slightly undone with the force of the motion. “No! Not until you tell me what this is about!” She was shaking, but her hands gripped the doorframe tightly, refusing to move. “I’m not lying when I say I love you like my own daughter. I’m not!”

“Easy words to say.” I was sneering, hating that my voice broke with tears instead of sounding stronger. “But when your precious son drops me in a few years, and I’m disgraced, then you’ll forget all about this ‘daughter’ you love so much!”

“…” She stared at me, horrified. “You think he… that I… “ She was stuttering, trying to work through what I had said. “Ronan wouldn’t cast you aside. And even if he did I…”

“I’m not an idiot, Your Majesty. So don’t treat me like one.” I interrupted her, laughing, but it was an unpleasant sound. “I’m not so foolish as to believe that a boy who has absolutely no interest in me will keep this engagement the moment he finds someone he likes better.”

“…” Queen Amerande was silent for a few moments. I noticed she looked upset, saddened at my words, but she didn’t look shocked, not at all. She had seen her son’s lack of interest in me as well. She knew exactly what kind of person Ronan was, and that he was capable of doing exactly what I said. I continued onwards, not wanting to hear any excuses or explanations.

“And WHEN he casts me aside. You’ll move forward just like everyone else will, without a thought spared for me.” I clenched my fists, wanting to run. “You’ll forget all about me. So please, keep that necklace. Give it to the woman your son actually WILL marry. Or a grandchild whenever they have one. Someone you truly care about. Not a placeholder. Not me.”

Having said what I wanted to say, I pushed past the Queen, running out of the palace. I skipped my lesson with Jim, getting into the carriage. And it wasn’t until I was there, protected by the window covers and safe from prying gazes, that I finally relaxed, put my head into my hands, and cried.