#were abused by the same person: fuck you. like. just be estranged from me (and dad) my whole life. i could pardon that. not this tho.)

[hideaway-or-safehouse]

my least favorite thing about having autism + CPTSD is how a trigger of mine can be barely touched and then im silently crying on/off for the rest of the day as i have an autistic shut-down

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 8 Javi's Chapter

whats playing: Self Control by Frank Ocean

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.2k

Javier had picked up on a few habits. Nail biting came first when he loaded into his truck when he left in 1980. He tried to keep from looking at you after you stained his shirt a deeper shade of blue with your tears. Biting his nails for the first time, right hand, his left hand was patting down the mark on his shirt. Lorraine in the back talking off his head as Don Chucho drove. Chucho always knew, he knew, so he rested his right hand on Javi’s shoulder as he drove into and out of town. Javier's hands flex as he imagines your back under his palm. 

And the apartment in Houston never felt like home. Not for a second. Immediately he felt like a lost little kid. He gave himself time to inch back tears alone in the bathroom as his estranged girlfriend frolicked around the home. Lorraine was thrilled, she had genuinely thought that her cheating was behind them. Javier never got over that, never got over his time being wasted and in turn allowing her to waste more of it. 

He spent June and July finishing his GED, living off the temporary money his dad had given them. Lorraine was the same, living off her savings and money from her mom until she started school in August, and until he was of age to work at the precinct.

One week in, Javier found a new habit with tobacco wrapped in white. Heading to cop bars with his older colleagues who would sneak the eighteen year old in. Lorraine was stressed with school by week one and Javi took her study time to ring your house yet you were never the person to pick up. “Oh, no she's out right now.” Javier’s brow would crease, wanting to ask,  with who? Where at? He would still tell Frankie to relay messages of hope everything is good although he had other words he wanted to say but that was for your ears only. 

Climbing out the hole that is their room, Lorraine, “How is everyone?” Her eyes tired from stress. By mid september Javier had started to sleep in the bed with Lorraine. They had shown good face for their friends before they moved but the second they were confined to this space, all of their grievances were revealed. Just in the first week, you are a lousy boyfriend, you never tell me how you really feel, Javier would dig back but his weren't low, he would just repeat over and over that she should have some sort of decency to break up with him before she jumped onto someone else. Even in september he was angry but an argument ended in them fucking so thats when sleeping in the same bed made its debut. Very healthy. 

“I only spoke to Frankie, he’s working. So is Genie, still cleaning up that office space.” He left you out because your name was brought up in those arguments with accusations of leading the poor girl on, Lorraine's words.

 Lorraine liked you, a lot, but she was very weary of you. Maybe she didn't have the right since she had cheated on Javier, and truthfully you hadn't crossed any lines when they were together. You had just suffered in silence, if anyone was crossing lines it was Javi but even that… you wouldn't call crossing. The lines were blurring and he nearly tripped over. The line disappeared when she cheated and Javi moaned into your soft mouth. 

Lorraine walks behind Javier as he smokes out the window, her hand skating his shoulder in a hold he didn't want. Not when he lit his cigarette to ease his worries of you.

Her cheek resting on your shoulder, “And Andrea?” 

Stay cool, any incorrect phrasing and Javier was done for, back on the couch. 

He flares his nostrils out of sight of his blonde girl, “Nothing new, just started school. She wasn't home.”

“And you asked for her?” Her voice was slightly unsettled and threatening. Javi sighs knowing where this was going, flicking his cigarette. Lorraine hated the habit, being in school for health care and all, also hated kissing him with the taste. As much as he wanted to be angry with how Lorraine had become with you after they had gone away he sort of understood her. Although he had the looming knowledge of Lorraine kissing someone else while they were deep in- he still had a grasp on what you must come across as. Less of how you came across, more-so how he responded to the call of your name.

Javier shakes his head before looking down out the window making sure the coast was clear before dropping the stick off the ledge. “No, Frankie just told me”. The conversation ended there and Javier served her dinner. 

He would call once a week to your house and still you just never seemed to be home. He would get small snippets into your life that fall. He heard you cut your beautiful long hair off. Javier’s eyes wide at the thought of how the short hair would look on you, he knew you could pull any look off. He felt it might've been weird to ask for a picture from your brother but Javier got lucky when he received your school picture in the mail from his dad. 

You are missed at home. Here is Andrea’s school picture her mom gave me, and a picture of me and Frankie at Genie’s salon

See you at thanksgiving. 

Love,

Your dad

Javier traced a hand over the image of his father and best friend in front of the pink lit sign. His slow breathing at the sight of you for the first time in forever. Biting the inside of his lip when he sees your bright eyed smile and short hair. Fuck, he wishes he was home with you, with his dad and with everyone. 

Javi tucked the image in his wallet and headed to work. He thought about you that whole day.

After two weeks of internal struggle and eye contact avoidance with his girlfriend Javier came to a silent conclusion. He was a selfish person, it wasn’t a trait from his father, probably from his mom who selfishly abandoned him at too ripe of an age. An age he denies he remembers but he knows it all. 

He knew kissing you, taking you to his home, asking to make him stay, he knew all of it was selfish. His self control just wasn't there. Not when you trusted and adored him so much. He flicks his cigarette outside the precinct next to his favorite co worker, Thomas. Javier decided to call less and although it wasn't you on the end of the line he knew him reaching out so often would just continue to hurt you for his own selfish gain.

You deserved to have a normal high school life, boyfriends and friends, not tied to the phone calls and subliminal flirts hoping you know he still feels deeply for you. He was envious of your ability to be so absent. You must have been finally getting a taste of the simplicity of a life without him. The time just isn't right for the two of you.

 Javier makes his last call in December. 

That day in December Javier had been drinking, alone as Lorraine stayed out with her classmates. His beer on his right and ashtray on his left. He almost chuckles at how mortified you would be at this image. He looked at himself a few times in the mirror and could see that boyish look leaving him more and more everyday, and it wasn't just his new killer mustache and stress lines growing. It was the way he was carrying himself, eighteen and assumed to be pushing thirty. Just great. A grown little man.

Donny Hathaway playing through his record player, he just keeps aging himself. 

He rings the house, sort of figuring it’ll be Melissa or Frankie telling him he just missed you. But it's your squeak that he hears for the first time in seven months, his blood running cold and his hand hurrying to put out his cigarette like you were really there to scold him for it. He decides against it, keeping it burning between his fingers. 

“Andrea, haven't heard your voice in awhile.” He breathes out in a pathetic hurried way. His own cheeks burning in embarrassment. You hum over the phone at his words and Javi looks to his lap hiding a smile from no one but himself. 

“I’ve been busy, keep missing your call. I don’t want to bother ringing your house either.” Javier laughs at the irony, just last year you had been passing his house to see if he was there and now it was him trying to get a glimpse of your life from miles away. He thinks of how nervous you used to be when he smiled, how you would run a hand through your hair, your hair. 

“Busy doing what? I saw the picture your mom sent by the way-Hair looks nice, looks pretty on you” He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, feeling like anything he says to you crosses a line he doesn't want to cross anymore. It will never be fair for you. Selfish . 

There's a small silence before your angelic voice quips again, “Thanks Javier Peña. And busy with school-and you? How's everything?” His name, so smooth from your lips. How did he get this bad for you, how did this happen. Javier feels sick for a second, say it again. He thinks but logic precedes him, be normal. He draws his cigarette again, fearing you’d yell at him over the phone (although he would kind of like that) for picking up on such a habit. He hums remembering the times you would put him in his place, “Hmm.”

“Started officially working, all the other cops speak spanish which is nice. There’s a cop bar just a few blocks from my house, we hang there.”

“and your girl?”

Selfish, nosy, like him. If you were in his shoes, he’d ask the same question. Javier would want to know every detail of your relationship just so he could find something to  be upset about. 

Javier scans the room devoid of Lorraine, they weren't good. How could they be?

“Hm. We’re good, she’s staying with a friend tonight at her dorm. Just in very different places right now-she’s in that college mood and i’m just work and sleep. She gets real mad at me-“ Javi stops himself then sighs, a shaking breath escaping as he realizes he's crossing another line. “M’sorry, not supposed to talk to you about these things.”

You sigh and he can imagine the crease of concern between your brows, he’d pass a thumb over it and smooth it over if he could. Another thought that shocks him. 

“It’s okay, you planning on coming home anytime soon?”

“Uh-not sure. Would love to come down for your birthday but this law and order shit is real rigorous, thinking i’ll just send you some birthday money over there”

A classic bratty scoff sears through the static, “Don’t do that.”

Javi rolls his eyes, missing you so bad. “Told you to take care of yourself before I left-are you, querid-” Javier fills himself up with unnecessary panic as he nearly calls you the name he reserved just for you, the name he called you before- “Um-aren’t you… taking care of yourself? Avoiding Daniel and whatnot.”

“I am. Funny how you left and suddenly I have no more boy troubles.” 

Javier is breathless and reminded of your face. Not the smiling one he saw almost every day but the one blotchy with red marks of tears when he so selfishly asked you that question, how your chin quivered at him. The cigarette dying in his hand, vinyl record needing to be turned, “I’m sorry, i’ll keep apologizing-”

“Javier-”

“No, I'll keep apologizing until you believe it, I'm sorry for putting you in that position. It was unfair." Javier's eyes fall to his lap, feeling like it was you sitting across from him with that red and whining face he left you with.

But the door opens and reality sets, and he says his goodbyes to you abruptly.

Cutting off your small bye and he decides it isn't fair. He was done being selfish. 

Train. It doesn't matter of his body fucking hurts, train he let everyone go for this, he pushes himself.

He sleeps four hours a night and works the rest of the day, meals meticulously planned to keep him in check. Turns down a beer, only one habit at a time, he’ll smoke in the bar instead.

He calls, only his father, twice a week. He stops asking for you-not because he means to but because worrying about you would kill the routine-it would kill the numbing cycle. He keeps a space in bed for Lorraine and maybe they would fuck if he found the energy. When she wakes for class he’s already gone, at his desk, wondering if this whole DEA shit is worth it-if it’s promised.

If Javier finds time, if his estranged partner finds the will, they will talk about breaking up. Both thinking its the best but Javier’s concern for her well-being-considering that he provides for her-ends up overruling. You're right, but once I get my residency then… well then we can figure it out. 

Javier wonders when will they assign him, fuck he had turned 21 three years ago and from the research and tabling he’s done, they all knew that Escobar was reigning hell in Colombia. When Javier asks with a hand on his hip, his superior says they are still weighing the risks, “We send you out there and you get killed, fuck, 23 year old southern boy American boy killed by narcos, the optics of it all”

Javier bites back the urge to tell his gringo boss that the story would be flipped into a discussion of his citizenship before he hit American soil for burial. But he doesn't, he just nods and almost responds before the boss speaks again, “But, we are working on arrangements to send you out there… safely.” 

Technically, Javier and Lorraine had been separated for 3 years by 1986. They lived together, and promised not to sleep with others since raw sex was all they enjoyed. Javier still provided, not because Lorraine couldn't but because at that point he was making too much money for his own good. He sent money back home monthly, fighting the urge to maybe send you something, that would be weird, he hadn't even heard your voice since you were sixteen. 

Fuck, you were what? 21 turning 22?

Javier knew general things about your life the past few years. He knew your mom got engaged, Melissa head over heels for a white guy named James. Javier knew that Frankie and Genie were engaged as well, living on their own with two successful salons. He heard that you got a boyfriend, that was news for Javier. News from Lorraine this time, over take out on a rare night where Javier laughed in the presence of her. His chest caving in a jealous fit that he thought he had gotten rid of long ago, something in his chest chipping away. Right then he decided that he couldn't go back if it meant seeing you with someone else.

And imagine his surprise when Lorraine says the boy's name was Xavier. So he knew about you and Xavier. He also knew you attended UMiami, smart girl. Knew you were farther from him now, that comforted him a bit. Knowing that you did well for yourself, that you were experiencing something outside the torment that is being home.

He remembered you joking that your mother hadn't ever wanted a daughter, it stayed with Javi, every time he looked at you he thought of you feeling like you weren't a good enough daughter. 

Javier knew that you probably hated him. You could ring her but she probably won't pick up. It was Genie who said that to Javi on Christmas over the phone. Javier had your new number the three years you attended school in Miami but was ultimately too distracted and scared to call you. 

In January of 1986, a few days before your birthday, Lorraine was given a residency  match at a children's hospital 30 minutes north of their apartment. I found an apartment, I was just wondering if you could be a reference.

And that's how they broke up. Not an arm flailing argument like they had twice a month, the relationship died with grace, Javier hadn't seen that coming. Javier told her he was proud and that he would always be around to help her. She was to move out by May. 

In February Javier goes home. 

Well, he drives home for a day, has dinner with his father and drives back in the morning without running into anyone from his past. Javier’s eyes burned for almost a second when his eyes fell on a picture of you in a cap and gown on the wall next to his own police academy picture from 1981. Your smile is bright like always, with a soft curve of your lips with your long hair tucked behind your ear.

Ears large, you hated your ears, Javier thought they were cute. Was that a nose ring? Melissa must have fainted at the sight. Javier packed and exited at 8 am to head back to Houston. Fuck all of that. The image burned in his head anyway and he shut his radio off when Juan Gabriel blared through the speakers. Fuck— that. 

Javier returns home after his day trip to Lorraine half packing the heading out to her friends house. Javier returns to work, training, tiring, stretching, writing, printing and thanking god he doesn't go on patrol anymore. God he never felt like less of a hero when his first work assignment was watching his patrol partner asking homeless folk to move their tents. He thinks of that moment and thanks god he was working on detailing and research for the DEA instead. 

In April Javier walks into his office with a loud yell and confetti in his face. He flinches then grins at all of his colleagues dressed in cowboy hats-mocking him as his nickname around the building was Vaquero , the big city Texans found Javier's tight pants and belt buckles amusing. Unsure of the occasion or if he was the right person for this party his deskmate Felipe shakes his shoulders, “You're going to Colombia.” 

Javier scoffs in disbelief as he's surrounded by music and hugs and congratulations with a few “you’re making history fucker.” Youngest guy they're sending out to Medellín. Javier learns that day that it was his last week in Houston before he gets a six month break before he starts his first day the embassy in October.

Polaroid pictures and cheek kisses from the desk women who Javier had unintentionally flirted with throughout the years, Javier’s work finally paid off. 

His boss, Townes, poured him a drink and handed him a pile of mail. Javier was bad at collecting from his mailbox. Townes laughs at Javier's shocked expression, it sure did pile on. The entire office was in fits of conversations and dances. Javier made note of how close his deskmate Felipe is to the front receptionist Gina. He fucking knew it, her face bright red when Felipe would walk in and place a light tap on her desk. Javier narrowed his eyes at him while he obviously bit back a smile when they walked to their own desks. Felipe had a hand flat on her back. 

Townes cleared his throat. “Opened this thinking it was mine, you should really head to that man. Seems like you're missed in Laredo.” He grips Javier's leather shoulder. Javier frowns and stares at the ripped envelope before digging his own fingers to fish out the card. Javier’s eyes bounced between letters, as they circled in his head quickly and with panic. He felt his superior smile from behind him, probably proud with his mini retirement suggestion. Javi traced his finger at the bump out lettering.

You are invited to  Genie and Frankie’s Wedding 6-20-1986

Javier gave a thinned lipped smile to his boss, it was time for Javier to come home, he knew it for a while, but he was sure of it now. 

Javier dusted his desk off with a shaky finger, his father at the doorway watching his every move. Rubbing his fingers together and flicking the collection away. The slightest frown on his lips, regret piling in his throat. He hadn’t gone home in so long. He could feel his fathers eyes burn on him as he watched the room he grew up in turn into a place of visitation, vacation, no longer his home.

His bed made, the childlike posters staring back at him and the teddy bear Lorraine had given him on valentine's day during their first year. Javier walks over to pick it up and inspect the thing. Feeling it’s fluffiness being a bit matted with age. Javier then looks at the picture of him and Lorraine on his night stand. Seeing his old smile and lighter brown hair. What an idiot he had been to shave his mustache that was itching to come in back then. 

He knew he had changed a lot. Taller, slimmer, more lines when he smiled, hair curling at his neck and a mustache that wasn’t needed to prove he was a man but a thick one nonetheless-made him look unrecognizable. 

His bear still in hand he hears his dad step slightly closer, “She’ll come around papa.” Javier’s eyes drop at the sentiment. Javier hadn’t really specified why they broke up-Javier never really told Chucho anything about Lorraine unless it was positive. He didn’t want to complain about her, he promised himself he wouldn’t be that sort of boyfriend or ex. Chucho had only ever been with Javier's mother but he respected her enough to relay that piece of advice to never speak down on your partner, even if they were an ex. You dated them for a reason, those reasons don't disappear when you split .

He hums an agreement although he knew there was no coming around, they had been over since 1981. 

The dust can be seen in the sunlight from his window. Circling and never falling. He had been home just for one day 4 months prior, and he hadn’t stepped into his room. He hadn’t even left his childhood home, he just stayed in the living room with his dad, silently watching tv as if this was normal, him being around, like that was normal. As if his dad didn’t have to face sending his only child away to a new dangerous career venture. Javier also knew you weren’t home then, not like he’d dare to stop and say hello after writing you off for so many years. His stomach flips at the thought of seeing you now.

The heavy hurt he just knew he instilled in you, would you slap him when you run into each other? No, not Andrea. You would never put your hands on him. Would you be so surprised to see him that you’d forget his absence? Would you smile out of instinct or frown in realization? 

He hadn’t seen a picture of you since you were a senior in high school, it’s been three years since then. Did you have an apartment in Florida or do you still dorm-would you even have to stay all summer or could you just stop by your brothers wedding and settle back into your home so far away. You had mirrored him but decided to make it a competition. Your thousand miles and his three hundred. 

Somehow he was able to tuck away the thought of you, for those first two years in Houston the thought of you not being okay consumed him. Lorraine had come home with takeout laughing about some chisme she heard from her friend in Laredo about you getting caught piss drunk on top of some guy in a bathroom. That led to an argument, Javier asking Lorraine to quit gossiping, which then developed into a screaming match about you and Javier’s obsession. Javier just asked her to table any conversation involving you, that he rather not know. So he pushed the thought of you and everything that came with the wallet image he tossed away with a heavy heart. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose when he would receive unsolicited updates about your life from your brother or Chucho. This would be far easier if people didn't adore you the way they did. 

He remembers when Chucho called him that July after helping you pack up your room. If he had stayed, god he couldn’t bear it be you leaving. That was the first time he was glad he had left first. “Javi.” Chuchos voice brought him back to earth, back to Laredo. 

Eyebrows shooting up Javier turns to face his dad, “Yeah?” 

A look of sympathy crosses over the wrinkles on his face, “Today is Tito’s 13th birthday.” His dad frowns, knowing what he was about to ask. Javier was stuck for a bit, confused at the sudden statement. Then more floored by his little cousin turning 13 when he was only 7 the last time he had been home. “Everyone is expecting you.” 

Javier feels a bubble growing in his chest at the thought of curious eyes and awkward hugs. “Who is everyone?” A hand falls to his hip, he knows. Everyone is everyone, there’s no damn party in this town without at least a hundred people walking out drunk regardless of the age of the birthday boy. 

Chucho chuckles and tips his hat at him before leaving Javier in his old room. 

Despite Javier’s protests and complaints of being tired he’s dressed in a flannel and patting his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Rehearsing in his head how to answer stupid and overbearing questions. Closing his eyes at the thought of getting a lot of Lorraine heavy questions. Thank god for the cigarettes in his pocket. 

Javi was a passenger for the first time in a long time as his father drove them down to the venue and it’s like the second coming of Jesus when a 23 year old Javier walks through the doors. 

Chatters in Spanish about how he’s grown, cheek pinches, kisses a bit too close to his mouth from girls from school that he doesn’t remember. Alejandra, according to her, Javier’s first girlfriend. “Tengo que decirle a la gente que mi primer novio fue un agente de la DEA.” She grins and kisses his cheek again, Javier’s nose scrunching.

After the small encounter Javier he sees the same little face on an elongated body. Little Tito, tall giving a sheepish teenage hug as another girl his age hangs behind him. Javier has a knowing smile remembering having a girl - friend at 13. “You’ve gotten so tall, who’s this?” Javier tuts his chin at the young girl whose face lights up in a blush, her eyes shifting everywhere but on Javier. Tito laughs in the only way a crushing pre-teen could. 

A brace-face smile, “Oh, my friend Adriana.” The girl smiles at the introduction, hands behind her back shyly. Javier raises his brows at his little cousin, and gives an approving frown. Familiar name. A mirror of his own childhood with you. Javier leans down to whisper in the birthday boy's ear.  

“Be nice to her, keep up the Peña reputation.” He advises, a firm squeeze on his bony shoulder before waving the two of them away to go back with the kids of their age. Standing straight Javier rubs his jaw and straightens up his going out top. Scanning the room for his dad who had parted the second he was swarmed. The same local mariachi band performing at the blue and red themed birthday party. 

Instead his eyes fall on a woman with blonde hair tied in a neat bun, thick brown brows and an aging smile that shrinks at the sight of him. Mrs. Smithfield in all her southern-belle glory staring at Javier with conviction. Javier blinks a few times before attempting to wave before she turns her back to him and walking away. A nervous shaking breath is exhaled from Javier’s lips, he regrets coming home. 

In the midst of Javier’s growing panic a slender hand grabs his shoulder and his knees weaken before he turns at the possibility of it being you. Instead, it’s your mother, your face on hers with more age and a stoic smile-you must’ve gotten your gleam from your father-he’d never know. Javier’s heart races at the sight, just your mom, after years. A few wrinkles included but still beautiful-still graceful and articulate. Hair moussed in curly scrunches, the smell filling the entire space, a long floral dress and a rosary flat against her chest. She grabs at Javier’s face and he looks away in embarrassment. “Javi! My goodness, didn’t know you could grow facial hair.” Her hand cupping his chin and manhandling his face like he was still fourteen. Her thumb brushing on the outer corners of his mustache. Javier chuckles and just allows her to examine him-“was so worried the academy would turn you useless and old, not even being a cop could break those Peña genes. Que chulo.” She jokes before slapping his shoulder, she loved thy neighbor, you know, unless they were cops. Javier nods a yeah, yeah. 

His chest rising and falling as the possibility of you being here increases by a million. His eyes dart around the woman in front of him but fall back on Mrs.Diaz just as quick. “How's everything?”

“Oh please, Javier, how are you? The DEA? That I could at least respect you know, is the salary good-it better-sending you to a war zone, I pray for you papa.” She looks over his shoulder for a second, then tightens her grip on his bicep. “My god-Frankie is going to freak out when he realizes you're stronger than him, he’s here!” Javier lets out a chuckle fueled by nerves at the thought of seeing your brother. Your mom had a new glow, one quite foreign to Javier. He remembers Melissa as just a nice lady, nothing more, nothing this enthusiastic. 

“Well, he’ll be even more angry when he sees that my mustache is better than his Ms. Diaz.” Javier jokes with a light squeeze to her arm. Her brows furrow and then settle in realization. 

“Mrs.Warden now Peña” She corrects. Javier is struck with even more confusion, forgetting she was engaged. “I married Mr. Warden, you know the middle school teacher?” She gleams as Javier’s face spreads in a smile, ah, right, Ms. Diaz got laid. Javier hugs his best friend's mom while uttering congrats and prying information out of her to take some of the heat off of him. She quips, smiling with every detail before waving him off to the table where he spots a grown man who is apparently Frankie. 

Frankie unknowingly dug into his food while Javier stalked the table to wrap his arm around his best friends neck. Frankies arms flail to grip Javier’s hold as Genie squeaks at the sight of Javi. “What the fuck-” Frankie groans through coughs as he slaps Javier’s hold. Javier loosens and kisses the cheek of Frankie who is still disoriented as his Fiancee giggles at his side. “Didn’t tell me your mom was taken, I was finally going to make my move.” 

Frankies eyes finally widen and he turns to fully see Javier’s face before letting out a little girl shriek before wrapping his arms around him, a hold Javier didn't know he missed this much. “You sick fuck, what the fuck?” Frankie laughs, gripping the shoulders of Javi to examine all the changes that six years create before giving a disapproving frown. Javier’s eyes almost look shut as the wide grin on his face ceases to shrink, “Your mustache isn't as good as mine though.” He comments, Javier’s smile dropping jokingly before pulling him in again. 

Genie sneaks in and Javier lifts her with his hold, kisses littering her cheek, he didn't expect himself to feel this affectionate but here he was. God, they were getting married. 8 years together, Javier wanted to ask how? How do you make that work, how did they do it so effortlessly. Maybe he should have asked for more advice, they had been doing something right, maybe Lorraine wouldn't be away although maybe the advice would lead him to stay with her.

By the grace of god, Genie and Frankie seemed to be too distracted by Javier’s new career venture to even utter her name. They knew, Javier also knew that they knew. He wouldn't come home for vacation without her you know unless… unless they were split up. Like always, Genie didn't hold back on the pig jokes. Discovering Frankie proposed on the beach when they went to Puerto Rico last May and how it's going to be a large backyard wedding-completely planned by Melissa and You. Javier couldn't help but let his brows shoot at the mention of your name, your name uttered out loud and not through static on a phone. Genie knowingly bites back a smile at his obvious attempt to micro manage his facial expressions as Frankie goes into detail about your skills in flower arrangements. How you cussed so loud when a rose thorn dug in your finger that your mama let the kitchen to hit you with a pillow as you dramatically cried at the cut, she just always been a crybaby, Frankie shook his head.

Javier wondered if your thumb felt better.

With Genie observing Javi she answers the question that has made its course around his head since they arrived, “Andrea is somewhere around her, surprised you didn't bump into her already. She’s hard to miss.” She chuckles before peering around the table to spot her. Javier holds himself together at the news. You were in this room, he knew he’d see you here so why was it that he feel the tension between his shoulder blades burn hot and glowy. Micro manage. Javier just nods. In his most lax way he asks what she meant by hard to miss. 

Frankie chuckles loudly at the thought of you scurrying around the party. You really had developed that maternal look as you followed the small steps of the new walker, trying to figure out how a one year old could be so fast, your hands out as you chased the stinker. “She’s got the baby with her.”

And to hell with micro-managing because Javier gives himself the sickest case of whiplash at the statement. 

No way. Dad would have told him. This is some sick prank. 

Javier's eyes snap to the stroller next to the empty seat just left of Genie and Javier feels his entire soul sink. No. “What, what do you mean?” Javier leans into the table, already visibly stressed at the thought, his mounted arm moving to stroke the hair below his nose. Frankie and Genie both glanced at each other and then back at Javier before bursting in fits of laughter. Javier blinked quickly, his leather clad shoulders dropping with air filling his lungs. Those fuckers. Genie found it hilarious, her head falling back holding her stomach and heaving while Frankies laugh deepened at the sight of his fiancee in a fit of laughs. How cute was the sight, Javier was sick. Javier kept his unamused trained eye on the couple as heels approached the table.

“Marisol fell asleep, could you watch her?”

Your voice burns in Javier's brain and he lifts his bowed head up at your approaching body, and your eyes widen in sync with his. He stares up at you as you crowd the table in a white turtleneck and long skirt as a baby girl has her face smushed in silent snores against your chest, you hair brown but honeyed. The maternal sight makes Javier dizzy. His chest falls for a moment, and you don't smile at him, you're just as shocked. Frankie chuckles and removes the chubby baby from you. You looked like you but far more grown, filling out your shirt, your eyebrows thinner and your hair in that layered look you used to have to make you look older. A proper beautiful woman, Javier wants to jump to his feet and hug you like he did your brother but his mouth is dry as is yours. “Javier, Hi.” You whisper while making Javier's chest ache at your softness, your voice and the fact that you hadn't used his nickname. You sit, patting your black skirt down as you give confused looks to your brother and in law, why didn't you warn me face. Javier licks his lips and stupidly all he can think to do is hold out his hand for you to grab and shake. 

Your lips quirk at the gesture and you touch him anyway, your hand dwarfed by his. Get it together Javier.  “Hi Andrea, your brother was just trying to kill me, saying that baby was yours almost-”

“She is mine.” You stare at him blankly and Javier’s eyes grow in size, and his cheeks heating before a real smile grazes your face. Javier feels privileged to see you smile again, smile at him, to see how despite having a wide smile, your lips never fade when you gleam. A nose stud. “Mi hermanita.” You confirm, trying to keep your own cool. You could feel Javier's body heat, the smell of him, his knee so close to your own.

You wanted to push him, kiss him, hug him, cry and tell him how much you missed him or tell him what you’ve been through. But all you could do is offer him small talk while he stares at you with his puppy dog eyes wondering where’d all the time go?

You're given a minute to breathe as Frankie pulls Javier's stare away from you as he explains the timeline of your mother meeting James, getting eloped and having a baby. Javier is shaking his head in shock the entire time, you watch the back of his head. His hair long again, folding at the neck with sideburns chopped and perfect. And a mustache, you didn't expect that. You didn't expect… well… you were immediately smitten with what he had grown to look like. So manly and broad, and hairy and large. You almost forgot how deeply hurt you were by him. Not one call. Looking down at your white top as a small stain from the drool of your baby sister's mouth darkened. Wiping your hand across your breast.

Javier’s eyes snap discreetly at your breasts and its movement when you wipe. 

Get it together Javier.

You didn't notice but ultimately gave up on the damn thing just to find Javier staring at you as Genie and Frankie crowd the stroller watching the infant stir in her sleep. You raise and eyebrow at the boy you still want, “What?” You narrow your eyes at him, and his lips stutter into a warm frown half hidden by the hair. You wanted to grab his face, feel his skin on your palm and hold. 

“I feel like I deserve to be slapped by you.” He states plainly.

Your face is stone cold, as you contemplate the offer but despite all the animosity you felt, you'd never put your hands on him, only if he asked and allowed you to kiss it better. You shake your head, Javier is really here. Your eyes leave his and scan the busy party. Seeing your mom serve a young child food. Eyes falling back to Frankie and Genie giggling off about something, not paying any mind to Javier’s burning gaze. “I feel like we should go talk outside” you spit, still being able to hold out any self control as he nods. 

Shoulder to shoulder with Javier again in the middle of a rare may breeze, looking up at the rare clear sky, it rained all week. Suddenly sunny and silent. The whole party stared at the two of you as you walked out of the building. Your mother nodding to you, James giggling to himself like the hard-ass he is. Feeling his shoulders rise and fall as you stood in silence.

"I'm sorry-"

“Shut up Javi, please.” Your hand comes up to your hair, running it through. Side by side you can't see his face but you do feel his body sink for a moment. It was the please that did it for him, he knew you, even after all these years. He knew a please out of you, a plea to him wasn't in your ranks. Javier did shut up though he wanted to hold your face and say i’m sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry. But you can't have any of that, you have control this time. You have control of your circumstances and you could push him, you could tell him he was a heartbreak you've been incapable of recovering from and you sure as hell could tell him that you hate him. You could also kiss him and leave him confused and aching to touch you and then you could leave. Go back to Miami, cut contact and live a life privately. Make him feel how you felt, how you’ve felt for six fucking years.

No.

You look to him and his eyes are peeled to the lot of cars in front of you, he feels you stare, burn, you burn him with the gaze. You thin your lips and hug your arms under your breasts, hugging your body. “ When do you leave?” You state more than ask.

His lips part and his head turns to you, looking into your eyes. That, he loved that. He loved how dark your eyes were, so dark that any light in your way makes them doe and animated, he hated to notice, but he fucking aches over the way your brows fold and bend with a line of stress when you look to him. “November.” He answered you, his eyes flitting to your lips, Javier couldn't help it, he found you so sexy back then when you forced answers out of him. God forbid you do it now, after so many years, after you've grown into that. Full, womanly, softer, prettier and meaner. Well, he had no right to assume you had gotten meaner but sixteen year old Andrea would have jumped into Javier's lap even if he had left you in that way. You had grown, meaner, if it was true he’d want it all. You quirk an approving frown before peeling away. Look back at me. 

“Do you really want to leave this time, and don’t bullshit me I don’t deserve any of that.”

Tan Brava. 

Javier smiles to himself but bites it away feeling that if you had caught him you’d click away in those little heels. He circles the question in his head and shrugs, “It’s work and the pay is handsome, close to a hundred.” He doesn't know why he admits that so quickly to you but you gasp, clutching at your stomach and you laugh. He needs a cig. The mere sight of you smiling so close to him is sending him over the edge. 

“Jesus fucking-sorry, just my starting salary is a fraction I-just shocked I’m sorry.” You exhale and Javier cant take it he’s patting at his pocket to fish out his killing carton. Your eyes watching his deft hands, veiny, you trap that image in that corner of your sick head. The stick falling between his large hands and up to his lips, your eyes follow it all. Your nose scrunching in disgust when he flattens his lips and covers his light. He side-eyes you in confusion.

“What?” He mutters, stunted by the cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Your face continues to twist in disgust. 

Shaking your head and crossing your arms, “You’re nasty Javier.” Continuing to shake your head as the sweet teen boy you had in your head dies when you watch the grown man in front of you, do something so adult , feed into an addiction. How cliche. 

He laughs, “Never seen someone smoke a cigarette before?”

You deadpan as you fight the urge to reach to pull the stick from his lips and stomp it. “Put it out.”

“Why?”

You narrow your eyes, “Put. It. Out.”

Smoke leaves the corner of his mouth, “Why, tell me.”

“You should be taking care of yourself, it's bad for you.”

You admit a bit too much and he's grinning like a fool and removing the cigarette from his upturned lips. He flicks the bud onto the floor and stomps it. Now it's you biting a smile at him listening to your request. You whisper, “Thank you.”

That has Javier looking at you with a dimple deep eyes shut grin, “Anything, Andrea, for you.” He mocks and you narrow your eyes. You want to pounce him in every sense of the word. You want to get on him and yell at him for making this so hard, you want to grab the back of his stupid head lick into his mouth until he’s begging you to give him anything, you knew he’d beg you. You also wanted to li ke actually pounce him , with the intention to wound. But the second form spoke the loudest when he licks his lips at your annoyance. 

“Light another.”

“What?”

“Light another so I can use you as an ashtray.” 

You're joking but Javier feels his pants tighten at your demand, for a moment he was willing to let you burn him, he’d been a dick and deserved it. With his hands at his side as he looks at you he thinks about how easy it would be to just kiss you. With a sly scoff and a head shake Javier plays it off, “Jesus, you seem stressed, would you like one?” He edges, reaching for his pockets and you swat him on his arm. You had to hold out.

“Oh, so you smoke because you're stressed?”

“Yes.”

“About what?” The air shifts with your light hearted question, you hear the music from inside change to something loud and eclectic, you could hear people scurrying to dance. You usually would wish you were inside but now you were extremely interested in what your ex-best friend is so stressed about that he decides to fill his pores with the smell of smoke. He quirks a brow at you, like you just asked if birds fly, checking if you were serious about the question before whisper a fuck it.

“Well, first of all, I haven't seen anyone in years and when I showed up in here they were treating me like a fucking Kennedy, asking me all these overwhelming questions about Escobar. I haven't even been to Colombia yet-then…” He looks down to the pavement and you begin to feel like shit for even asking, the way he takes a moment to breath worries you and your body twitches to hold him but decides against it. He breaths. “I see Lorraine's mom and I’m sure you know-just never worked, Houston made it worse. Whatever, her mom looks at me and turns her back, then your mom.” He laughs, still looking away. Your brows tense as you watch him in a state you've never really seen, so much insecurity and shame. Houston wasn't going to be good for him, I knew it wasn't. It circled your head for years but for selfish reasons, he won't be good because I wont be good without him, but instead he just didn't do good for himself. Your hand grazes his wrist for a moment and he doesn't move from your caress but it's fleeting so he continues with a frown and no eye contact. 

“When I saw you with the baby I nearly had a heart attack by the way, and then I felt guilty because you surely could have had a kid and I just would have never known, that's been killing me. Then you pull me out here, and I get deja vu, remember the last time we were at a parking lot?” He looks up to you with a stupid smirk and your mouth drops, just when I was feeling bad for him. 

You lean your body weight into him and push as he laughs and fuck it, you're smiling too, ear to ear and it feels like 1980. Your heart is pounding against your rib cage at his statement before the kiss comment, he leans back into you. Have a kid, thats funny to you. “What makes you think-jesus.” You giggle and Javi is at ease again. 

“Fucked if I know- last I heard you were in a committed relationship so fuck me for thinking that maybe you had a baby.” You cringe, you knew Xavier was more than likely coming to this function, you saw his sister earlier, what a beautiful disaster it would be to have Javi and Xavi in the same room again, god forbid Javier finds out the things he would say to you. Your ex would be gone by tomorrow. 

“Mmm, past tense yeah. You're not the only one who gets to make bad relationship decisions Agente.” His eyes snap to yours again at your nickname and his lips quirk to a frown after taking in your bad relationship comment. It was easier said but he wished that for you, a good relationship, it would hurt less to come home and see you happy. But you being available is making it all unbearable and the two of you have only been with each other for fifteen minutes. 

You watch Javier's expression soften, how he got prettier is beyond you. His smell had changed, still sweet yet earthy, with a hint of smoke-you would never admit to him that you liked the smell. Not after you threatened him for smoking. Your eyes flick away from him as you watch the car that had just pulled up go into park with a familiar back facing you. Right in Javier's blind spot, Jesus christ. “So what I’m gathering is that you aren’t in a relationship,-”

You interrupt him with a full arm squeeze as the leather crunches under your clawed hands. His temple creasing with his confused look he gives your pleading face. Why did this always happen, horrible timing with you two. Xavier’s walk is dominating as he quickens to approach the two of you, still nothing compared to Javier-he noticed too. God, you want to kill yourself thinking about the amount of times he didn't make you come…and he was a prick and you stayed, for so long. 

Javier’s nostrils flare at the realization, remembering that you ended up choosing fucking Xavier, the loser who attempted to slut shame you the first time you all met. Well, Javier left you when you had shit taste but he held hope out for you, hoped that you’d realize how good you were. Xavier is in front of the two of you with a smile and in his camo military get up. “Long time no see Javier.” He holds out his hand for Javi to shake but Javier stares at it for a few seconds. Never liked him.

He shakes it anyway and Xavier exhales with a laugh. Dork. He then looks at you with a smile, his eyes scanning over your body. 

You feel your breath die in your throat at the thought of how he spoke of your body just two years ago. You gained weight in high school, god forbid . It was around thirty pounds and it hadn't bothered you, you were still healthy-you body just had began turning more womanly. Throughout the entire relationship he found some way to slyly imply that your natural body was one to be ashamed of. And you lost the weight when you split up, not purposefully but because the dining hall food was putrid. So the gaze of your ex makes your stomach flip and Javier notices your change in body language. He crosses his arms and puffs his chest slightly but he doesn't need to; he already towers Xavier, “Yeah man, what is it that you do now?” he asks tauntingly. 

Xavier smiles and points to his military cap, “I’m back on base in Cali in a few months…” His green eyes move to your rigid stance with a small smile that makes Javier’s blood boil. “Guess you've always liked men in uniform DeeDee,” While he gives you whiplash with the horrendous nickname he gave you back in the day, he wags his finger between you and Javier. 

Javier’s eyes narrow at the boy and shakes his head, asshole , he mutters and Xavier doesn't catch on as his perverted eyes drag down your frame again, “I’ve got to get inside but I saw you leaving the gym where 7-11 used to be, you look great now, see you inside.” He grips your shoulder and is entering the party before Javier could react with attempting to get at him but he was gone.Your heart is full in worst ways, so full of disdain and hatred, feeling like an insecure seventeen year old again with his cunning ways to be an asshole towards you. Your hands fly to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose, too much all at once .

Javier’s hand is on the curve of your back in a familiar comforting hold, too much. Your eyes sting but they are shut, not today. “God, I fucking hate him so much-sorry” Javier feels your anxiety and anger burn off your skin and it makes him crazy. Just in the small interaction Javier understands what you meant about bad decisions . Javier had learned a lot in training about self control, he learned how to regulate his emotions well. It worked so well with Lorraine, the arguments stopped being explosive. But to hell with training, he didn't care the scandal it would ignite if the man of the night ran into the kids party and beat the military man bloody.  

You look down at your own body and step away from Javier's hold, “um… please just tell my family I went home early.” Pull away, distance, more unsaid things, you had more to say you just cant do it not after seeing Xavier. You’d be sick by the time you get home. 

Javier’s heart leaped at your distance and lack of eye contact. What happened to his smiling girl, querida. Feeling like a teen who had just been pushed away by a pretty girl, Javi stutters, “Yeah-I-I’ll tell them, just how do I”

You grip your purse and smile fakely, you’ll make sure to cry about him later. “I’ll call you tonight.” The wind pulls up and shifts your long skirt as you give Javier Peña a thin lipped smile. Javier tried not to break out in a face of relief, instead he nods you off and he watches until you safely get in your car and pull out of the lot.

Jesus christ you could drive now.

He felt like such an asshole. 

[utilitycaster]

What bothers me on principle about Syldor: the man is an ambassador. His ENTIRE JOB is to be a good representative of his people and foster mutually beneficial relationships. If it takes twenty years and his estranged children showing him up by saving the world for him to decide that maybe his society and he in particular could stand to be less of a classist/racist* prick, it's hard for me to feel especially impressed. (*On that note, it looks like the current guide did some strategic editing about mixed ancestry, but the way half-elves were originally described was that humans saw them as a blessing, but elves saw them as impure and as something lesser. The first edition specifically said "the elves of Syngorn have looked on them with contempt." Whether it's currently part of the lore or not, that...kinda set a certain tone about that whole family relationship. It wasn't a great tone.) As for the others: Howaardt suffers in my recollection because that plot was happening right when my own father died, so it's hazy and I frankly don’t want to backtrack to remind myself of the details beyond "Tary eloquently told him off for his failings and I'm glad he said what he did." I’m with you about Thoreau, though. That man’s the worst.

So just to stave off any further questions...to be honest I don't need to know why anyone on an individual level thinks this about Syldor, and I do get that a lot of people don't recall Tary's arc terribly well for a variety of reasons. Call me cynical but "fandom opinions tend towards the less nuanced, and it's very easy for one person's highly specific projection to spread around as The Correct Interpretation" tends to explain it on a broad scale.

That aside, this feels like it seriously misses the point. Taking only 15 years and two visits from his estranged children for him to apologize - even badly - and begin a slow about face against his entire culture, even when he knows it will never be enough to mend the relationship? Quite a lot of real people would, genuinely, do anything for their parents to do the same.

(I also think that Syngorn's xenophobia does need to be considered in the context of "the ambassador from Syngorn to the primarily human society on the continent was assassinated, kicking off a bitter three-decades long war, less than three centuries ago and very possibly in Syldor's living memory." It doesn't make it justified, but the tone-setting is actually like...fairly good world-building that puts this in context.)

It is also rather irritating that in a fandom that loves a redemption arc, someone who has, again, fucked up badly, but then made an honest to attempt to improve, is so frequently thrown in the same (or worse) bucket as a serial gaslighter rather than treated as "kind of an asshole." Which is, to be clear, what I'm arguing. I don't think he's a good person. He was bigoted and took the twins away out of a misplaced sense that they couldn't be happy in a small town with their human mother. I think the twins are justified in being mad at him still. I would not expect them to ever forgive him fully. My point is that there are shades of gray here that are entirely ignored. (This also happens to cross into a more serious issue I have with fandom frequently diminishing some pretty horrific emotional and psychological abuse such as Thoreau's, but that's also a whole different story.)

With all that said I covered Syldor in the original post primarily because I found it particularly hypocritical that in TLOVM, he was as awful as the fandom makes him out to be, and unhappiness with the story shifted to the twins and Percy acting in ways that were consistent with Syldor being worse and with their mental state re: everything else going on being very different than in canon.

I guess the underlying point is that I'm fairly vocal when I find the story isn't hanging together logically, and both C1 and TLOVM do hang together logically. That, again, doesn't obligate anyone to like it, but I do want to observe that it does, in fact, make a lot of sense if one considers the actual canon of how Syldor behaves in each work, and it specifically makes sense for Vex's arc and the changes made to it.

[cryoriku]

hey you know it's really awesome and cool when ur a grown adult and after getting in a fight with ur mother who still insists on disrespecting and mocking you at any chance, ur adoptive father who has only ever been a source of fear since you were very little calls and instead of screaming at you he's very level and is legitimately concerned about my mental state.

some of his takes are still very shitty. even tho i routinely try the pacifist approach with her she can't stop mocking me and disregarding my boundaries and he acknowledges how aggressive she can be, he still puts the burden on me to be better and suck it up for the sake of maintaining a relationship (which is bs. both sides need to work or i shouldnt have to put up with it after all the abuse i dealt with as a child). and he thinks i need to just get back on meds which is such a backwards stereotype way of thinking that isnt accurate bc i stopped my last new meds bc they didnt really do much for me and gave me bad side effects.

it makes me feel like shit and embarassed now for being depressed and like all the efforts i have been making on getting out of my apartment more often and eating healthier and stuff arent being seen and just the worst of me is. it sucks too bc our mental health took a new redive after one of our ex's told us how we seem to not want to get better. which is an insanely fucked up thing to say and not worth listening to so we have tried to just ignore it but it haunts us still along with toxic ex friends whove talked about how pathetic and disgusting we are for being mentally/emotionally weak. which is wrong and bullshit and hirrible and WE HAVE gotten better before we want to be better again we're sick of living in a rollercoaster we want to be ourselves again 100% of the time and not just some of it, but believe it or not it's hard to keep your head above water much less swim to shore when people are constantly shoving you back down and wondering why youre not succeeding in breathing. dont you see how hard I'm trying?

plus with our dad it just gives us a fucked up moral dilemma of ik how estranged and distant his family is like theyre allergic to showing courtesy or affection and he was raised to be a good mannered cowboy and just sit and take when his mother does him wrong because it's family and he doesn't wanna lose it, so the same is true here, but I've already had it in my head for years that at some point i may have to cut ties. I'm just fucking caught. I'm trapped by the good moments we have, the good aspects of my parents and my sister. I'm caught by the fact my dad doesnt have a close family and everybody in my moms family has that same genetic ego that makes everyone think theyre better than everyone else or made them isolate and hide and die from drug overdoses alone in their bathroom. I'm caught by my baby niece who i don't want to leave alone with these people. I'm caught by my dog and grandma, until they pass, anyway. I'm caught by the stupid child in me who still *craves* a mother, *craves* a father, craves this idea of a family i never really had except in blurry photos if you dont look too close.

any fucking ways..... if anybody is able to get a therapist who can actually help me and not waste a year of my time trying to put me on drugs because they dont know how to do shit with systems and trauma to actually email me back, that would be epic.

i also want everyone reading this to stop seeing people as only their struggles or their trauma or their disability and start seeing them as PEOPLE with personalities and likes and interests first. believe it or not we don't think about our trauma or hardship a lot of the fucking time and it's real weird and a total fuckin bummer if thats all you seem to see. so, yeah.

have a happy sexy naughty bitchy sephiroth labor day guys

[uozlulu]

It’s that time of night again. Alone with the thoughts. So many thoughts.

Still thinking about the quandary of desire. What would it feel like? What would it be like? Would it be consuming? What would it feel like? Would it be like a perseveration? Would it be less intense? Would it be like how people try to convey it in stories or would it be kind of muted? More subtle?

Would it be like being the center of attention? That seems absolutely horrible. Although I don’t mind sharing the stage with others, of doing solos as long as someone else is with me. Maybe I was just built for more than one person? Although it seems like the more people you add the more complicated something that seems complicated becomes, and then if it’s two against one that’s double the center of attention and that sounds very unappealing.

I used to feel very heart poundy around certain people and I used to blush and so forth. Sometimes I’d trip over myself and stuff. I don’t really do that anymore and haven’t for a long time. Sometimes I wonder if desire is connected to stuff like that but at the same time I’m not sure if it was a desire for those particular people or a desire to know things. I used to be very curious about kissing, if it was really going to be like stories promised or if it’d just end up feeling like it looks, like just mouths. I mean you know every builds alcohol up and it tastes like poison so....I also think a big part of it was a desire to be understood, to be loved, to be accepted for myself. Like people around me loved me but I felt very alien, very out of space, out of place, and I just wanted to feel like I was a person for once in my life, that I had some kind of intrinsic existential worth. But since then I’ve figured out that that’s a bit too out of reach and I’ve adjusted myself accordingly. I’m much more content with who I am than I used to be because of it. I wouldn’t say I feel particularly human, but I at least have healed enough to not feel like an object deserving of abuse.

But despite all this wondering and contemplation, it still feels ridiculously pointless because at the end of the day these are things I will never know most likely. I mean I’m thirty-eight and despite going on a handful of dates with a handful of boys in high school never once - not ever - has anyone ever tried to kiss me. I’ve thought about kissing some people in my life when I was younger but sometimes I wonder if it was out of desire or out of curiosity. I’m very science brained and I used to be so desperate to be loved so so so so so desperate. Honestly thank goodness I was considered very ugly or I might have gotten myself into repercussions.

Anyway, I’m still thinking about desire. I’ve started to read E rated fics more though I stick to the ones with actual plot and kind of like skim the E portions because it’s not really my monkey or circus. But I think it’s part of this desire curiosity. What draws people into such things? What draws estranged lovers together again? What might make someone who knew you when you were younger and in your prime still consider you an option even now? Even if your hands shake? Even if your memory isn’t what it used to be?

I mean like back when my BMI was 18 and I had my health relatively, everyone called me fat and ugly every day. I was fake asked out so many times I lost track of how many. One time a guy fake asked me out in math class loudly before class started and I went from 0 to LIVID in picoseconds but I didn’t say anything before I didn’t want to tell him to fuck off and get in trouble with the teacher if they were to walk in suddenly. Some other kid went, “She looks so hopeful,” and everyone.

Everyone.

Everyone laughed.

I can’t even remember how I responded. I think I got so angry there’s no way even pre-seizure return me would have remembered.

But I think that’s part of what drives this too. I’ve always been so undesireable even if I did manage to date a few boys here and there. I mean no one asked me out in university even before I got so super inflamed and stuff.

That said, I did make peace with some of this after turning thirty. I do feel more happy and light now that I’ve let go of my expectations of ever being anything other than forever alone. But I guess I can’t stop feeling curious about things. - Maybe I’ll get lucky and these thoughts will run their course sooner than later.

[evnovia]

— because i’m a hero.

Bakugou unloads his worries for you in the only way he knows how.

+ pairing. bakugou x reader + warnings. lots of swearing, some violence (can be seen as abusive/toxic), mention of sex + word count. 1.436 + author’s note. who hurt me? this playlist and its title did, now suffer with me :) jk there’s comfort i’m too much of a sappy bitch to make it edgy

The door to your hospital room slams open with a powerful bang that nearly threatens to displace the flimsy wood from its hinges.

You refuse to turn your head towards the clamour and acknowledge your unwelcome visitor, feigning disinterest by relaxing your features into a cool, blank facade. It’s silent for a few moments—no boisterous yells, no low growls, nothing. Restraining your curiosity, you keep your eyes trained on the bare, weathered tree outside your window.

Your heart contracts with a greater force at his slow, sardonic snicker, sending more blood rushing to the muscles in your arms and legs and nearly kicking into your fight-or-flight response. “Tell me, was it fun?”

After one deep inhale followed by a lengthy exhale, you languidly turn to gaze upon the number three pro hero, Dynamight. He’s in his signature tight, black costume with his toned muscles on display, mask pushed up into his hairline. His blond locks spill over the makeshift headband in sharp spikes that you know from experience are delightfully soft to the touch.

Agitation and fury radiate off him in waves, exacerbated by his heavy breathing coupled with his clenched jaw and fists.

A flock of concerned nurses crowd at the entryway, evidently conflicted on whether to step in and risk their neck to an infuriated Dynamight or to simply turn a blind eye to the hero’s rampage. You send them a weak smile, flicking your wrist to aid their conscience and leave you to handle the ticking time bomb in front of you.

Once they hurriedly shuffle outside, carefully closing the door behind them, you heave a sigh. “Was what fun, Kats?”

“Stop acting like such a prissy ass bitch,” he seethes, liquid venom oozing out between his pretty lips. Bakugou edges closer to your bedside, leaning in to fist at the collar of your hospital gown. “What else would I be fucking coming in here for? Were you having trouble paying rent even with all your shitty rescues? Pretty smart fucking plan, I gotta hand it to ya—taking up camp in the hospital where the cost is already paid off for dumb fucks like you.”

His knuckles dig into the soft flesh of your neck. You concentrate on the flash of pain to ground yourself, chewing on the inside lining of your cheek to keep your own words level and calm. Two fiery knuckleheads is a recipe for disaster, and a hospital is the last place you want to duke it out with him anyway.

“There wasn’t any heroes aroun—”

“Oh, that’s it!” The heavy sarcasm laced in his tone raises your mouth into a snarl, eyes hardening on his own deadly crimson ones. “The selfless cripple stepped up when there was no one around to help out! Rather than waiting for help with the other civilians, you thought you could play hero, right?”

Smacking his hand from your clavicle, you purse your lips to guard the hateful words bubbling in your mouth from spilling out into the open as Bakugou fans the raging flames in your stomach. In order to keep the situation from escalating any further, you reach over for the red call button on your bedside to give both of you time to cool your heads.

Before your fingers can graze the button Bakugou snaps, trapping your wrist within his larger hand. With your other arm hanging uselessly in a cast, he’s free to entangle one hand into your hair, harshly pulling on the locks to tilt your head up towards his bulky form that climbs up onto your bed and straddles your waist.

“You just can’t quit, huh? After almost fucking dying on your last mission and landing yourself months in this hell hole, you still didn’t learn a fucking thing. It’s all a game to you. Nothing scares you, not even an A-list villain.” You wince at the cracks in his voice. “Did you miss it here? Why do you bother getting all beat up when I can kill you right here—no need for any of this pointless bullshit if you’re dead!”

“Shut up, asshole. Don’t start with me,” you warn, cursing your weakened muscles for being unable to fling Bakugou off your lap. It’s laughably easy for him to pin you down and halt your fruitless flailing with a brawny thigh to your abdomen that knocks the wind out of you.

“This is what you wanted! You needed to hear how great of a person you are, right? Saving people even when you’re off-duty—even when you got discharged this fucking morning! How heroic of you!”

The last thread of your sanity snaps.

“Shut up Bakugou! You know that’s not what I became a hero for!” Your voice raises to rival his own deafening volume, lungs aching from your sudden screeching added onto your previous injuries.

“Hah? Don’t make me laugh.” The menacing smirk etched onto his face only serves to rile you up further. “You did all this for you, didn’t even give a second fucking thought about other people—spare me your fake righteous crap.”

“What did you want me to do? Watch while innocent people get slaughtered by villains—”

You’re cut off by a stinging pain in your scalp, Bakugou’s sharp pull to your hair angling your face up towards the ceiling as he drags his knees closer to your waist.

He smashes his forehead against yours. There’s not enough force behind his pounding to leave a mark on him, but the lacerations near your temples open up once more, oozing blood down the sides of your head.

Bakugou’s features scrunch up, poison still spitting out of his mouth, but eyes watering with unshed tears all the same. “What is it gonna take for you to learn to save yourself first, dumb fuck? Should I help you get back on death’s door for it to get through your goddamn skull?”

Your expression instantly softens at the helpless worry scattered in the burning reds and gentle pinks of his irises. “I did evacuate with the rest of them, Kats. We were all huddled up in the storeroom, but I saw a kid run back when he heard his mom screaming outside.”

The tension in Bakugou’s face melts off, leaving the defeated slouch of his brows, mouth relaxed into a frown. He lowers back until he’s seated in your lap, releasing your wrist in favour of tenderly wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling his head into your neck while cautiously avoiding your wounds. “You still should’a stayed where it was safe, idiot.”

You giggle lazily with no amusement behind the act, lifting your hand up to his sturdy back to trace abstract loops into the spandex. “He was yelling out the filthiest curses I’ve ever heard. I think even his mom was shocked—I saw her lecturing him about it afterwards.”

Bakugou grunts into your sensitive skin, understanding your plight without needing to hear your explanation. You two fall into a comfortable silence, reveling in one another’s presence with an occasional nip to your nape.

“Come live with me.”

A short, estranged cry escapes your mouth. Bakugou remains unmoving, curled up into your torso. “Kats?”

“Maybe it’ll stop you from holing up in this stupid place all the time.”

You land a smack to his shoulder blade, scoffing at the implication that your pockets are so despairingly empty that you are forced to rely on the free services gifted upon injured heroes. “You know I pay rent whether I’m at home or not, right?”

He presses his fingers into your sides, massaging the sparse areas that aren’t covered in wraps of bloodied bandages. “I don’t fucking care. Move in with me, your apartment is shitty anyway.”

You hum, shifting around to fight off the numbing sensation spreading throughout your lower limbs. “That’s not what you said the last time you were there.”

Shivering at the snarky grin pressed into your neck, you tighten your hold on the tight fabric hugging his waist. “That’s because I spent the whole day fucking your brains outta your—”

You dig your own fingers underneath his ribs to silence him from tainting the innocent atmosphere of the hospital any further. His spine straightens as he removes his head from your shoulder, looming over you with a cocky smirk. “Live with me.”

“It doesn’t even sound like a question at this point,” you point out, unable to resist pecking his lips after.

“Because it’s fucking not.” Bakugou chases after your retreating mouth, swirling his tongue with yours once reunited. His long fingers grasp onto the back of your head, bringing you infinitely closer.

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[disgruntledspacedad]

Javier Peña and commitment

a better love series  character analysis

Okay, not-so-briefly, let me finish what I started with this post, and say a few more words about Javier Peña and commitment. 

I think typical fanon describes Javi as a rogue, smoky, commitment-phobe man slut. The kind of guy who never settles down because he’s too busy having fun with his hookers. And yeah, at first glance, that’s a valid assumption. Javi definitely puts off that vibe. Hell, I think he even believes that of himself. 

I call bullshit, though. 

Javi is obviously an affection starved softie who is seeking intimacy and human contact. He just doesn’t know how to get it. Watch how deeply he connects with each of the women he sleeps with. He publicly greets the hookers in Medellín by name (like seriously what man does this??) and his relationship with Gabby seems intensely personal. He cares about what happens to her. He’s sweet, almost tender with her. 

This is a man with a huge heart and deep, unfulfilled needs.

Now, let me tease apart what I think happened that scarred Javi so profoundly.

I want to start with his family life. 

Now, a lot of this falls deep into headcanon territory, but this entire post is in context of Better Love, so that’s fine. However, I don’t think it’s too far off the mark for canon Javi, too. Just things to bear in mind.

Okay, so in The Kingpin Strategy, Chucho makes references to the fact that Javi has always been free spirited and idealistic. “You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

Javi says, “It was right here, wasn’t it? The last time we had this conversation.” He sounds resentful, frustrated.

And Chucho replies, “You didn’t listen to me then, either.”

Man oh man, this says a lot. There’s a lot of reference to some very old bitterness, most (but not all of it) on Javi’s end. Let’s break it down.

In Better Love, Javi lost his mom to colon cancer when he was nineteen. We know from canon that he was chomping at the bits to get out of town, so I kind of think that Javi packed his bags the day that he turned eighteen and left. He’s from a small, close knit family, and him taking off into the blue without any warning would have shocked them. It would have hurt. 

The fact that he and Chuco have their conversation in the driveway is telling, too. 

I think Javi spent some significant time estranged from his family, and things were probably still rocky between them when his mom passed away. Colon cancer can be pretty subtle. Javi’s mom didn’t get a diagnosis until it was far too late for effective treatment. It would have hit her hard and fast, and she and Javi may not have had much time to reconcile. Hell, she was upset by Javi leaving - she may not have even told him what was going on.

Ouch.

Now, Javi is a guy that silently shoulders all of the responsibility that he’s not meant to carry, and he’s absolutely going to blame himself for taking off like that, and for being too stubborn to call home and check on Mom. Her death is the first in a series of wounds that lead to Javi’s (very misguided) belief that he’s a shit human, when truly, nothing could be further from the truth. 

Next, let’s talk about Lorraine. 

We know from Javi’s conversation with Steve that he thinks Lorraine was better off without him, giving us another glimpse of that deep seated self-loathing that we know he carries. Javi almost sounds wistful, like he regrets leaving her. Certainly, he regrets hurting her (more proof that Javi is actually a pretty sensitive guy - he knows he fucked up). But then we actually meet Lorraine in season three, and there’s something really weird there. 

Now, granted, Javi left her at the alter. Things are bound to be weird. But look at how he’s drawn to her, like he just can’t help crossing the room to see her again, even years later. That was the first big red flag for me. 

Then, watch how Lorraine treats him. She’s dismissive, pretty biting. And okay, yeah, she’s well within her right to be bitter. But then she says this:

“Can you imagine if we actually were married?”

Like, scoffs it. Guys, that’s a pretty serious dig. Lorraine is implying that Javi is beneath her, that he could never, ever be decent husband material. And watch his reaction. He takes this cut like he’s used to taking this cut from her. I don't know, but to me, it just reeks of a history of toxicity.

Men are absolutely capable of being the victims of toxic relationships and emotional abuse. I mean, duh. But try telling that to Javier Peña, with his tendency to internalize and self destruct. 

It would make a lot of sense to me that their relationship was built on this type of fucked up interaction, with Lorraine constantly pushing Javi to be this perfect dude with a white picket fence, and constantly calling him on his “failure” to do so. Maybe some of it was rooted in racism and classism - Lorraine seems like she could be that petty, materialistic type. Maybe Javi just wasn’t ready to settle down. 

Remember, too, that Javi’s love language is acts of service. He’s not a super romantic guy in the traditional sense, but he wants to do things for the person he loves, practical, tangible things to keep them safe and happy. If Javi thought that he could do better by Lorraine by putting a ring on her finger, it might be pretty easy to persuade him that he “ought” to do that, especially if there’s a continued history of verbal abuse. Remember that we tend to believe the things our abusers say about us, and that most of the time, this stuff starts subtle. If Lorraine is constantly suggesting that Javi’s not good enough for her, eventually, he’s going to fucking believe it. 

And consider the fallout of skipping town on your wedding day. No matter if the relationship is healthy or not, men tend to get the short end of the stick when it comes to breakup sympathy, and to leave a pretty woman like Lorraine waiting at the alter? My god, people would have been vicious to Javi. 

He probably believed all of the shitty things they said about him.

Javi threw himself into his career, and between a dangerous, high stress job with the DEA and never addressing these old hurts (Javi just doesn’t do that, you know), what you wind up with is a deeply wounded, “self sufficient” (read: emotionally constipated) man with raging self esteem issues and an intense fear of emotional intimacy. Now, all of this shit might have scarred Javi, but it doesn’t change his nature. Javi has a huge heart, he’s fiercely idealistic, and he desperately wants to do the right thing. And we all need love and human connection. 

Javi just denies this emphatically. 

But the ugly truth is, Javi avoids long term relationships because he thinks he doesn’t deserve them. It’s not even about being hurt again, not anymore. He almost sees it as an ethical thing, dammit. Give this boy a hug. 

This is why it took a fucking bomb to get him off his ass and admit his feelings for Ears. Javi would never, ever have done that without something very radical catching his attention. He would have let Ears walk straight out of his life, and yeah, it would have torn him to pieces, and he’d have always regretted it and wondered ‘what if,’ but that fear is an old, deeply rooted thing. That’s why I have Ears sort of pick up on the gravity of Javi saying, “I’m all in,” to her at the end of The Rules of Engagement. She’s not eloquent, but she’s pretty intuitive, and she knows that a commitment is something that Javier Peña does not take lightly.

And let me just say this about commitment: Javier Peña is a man who honors his fucking commitments. Watch what he’s willing to do for his informants - he always, always puts their wellbeing first, even before his own, even before the integrity of the hunt for the cartels. 

And Javier Peña is beyond devoted to bringing down the cartels. Like, that’s his entire arc in the show, right?

He’s committed to justice, too. Like fiercely, will do fucking anything to make things right, to make them fair. He wants to do the right thing so much it burns.

So, I don’t think it’s fair at all to say that Javier Peña is a man who fears commitment. He fears intimacy, while at the same time, he craves it. He fears human connection, when really, that’s the thing he needs most. 

But he doesn’t fuck around once he decides something. 

Which is the really, really fun thing about Better Love. For the first time, we get to see Javier Peña, the idealist who wears his poorly disguised heart blatantly on his sleeve, the man who goes for broke trying to get things done, the man who’s passions literally destroy him, in an intensely emotional relationship with another human. One who is just as devoted to him in return. 

So, anyway, if you’re still reading this, wow. I just wanted to babble about how Javier Peña is far more than brooding testosterone. Actually, he’s a very soft boy who needs patience and a lot of healing, and somebody who is willing to meet him exactly where he is and love him because of it.

And I want to give him that. 

[c-is-for-circinate]

Ok, Hades gameplay reaction time!

(Because I have been terrible this quarantine year about posting thoughts about stories I've been invested in, and I'm really enjoying this game, and I'm playing basically blind and I have theories, and what is tumblr for if not recording those things to look back on later.)

I love this specific kind of fantasy/speculative fiction, that straddles the line between 'allegory clearly designed to explore a real-world issue' and 'the themes of this reflect real-world issues but also everything is times one million for drama and setting's sake'. I love it so much. Because, look, this is a story about a teenager/young adult trying to gather up the skills and resources and help he needs to escape his controlling, possessive, emotionally abusive father's house. That's it. Strip away all of the trappings, and that's what the story is about. By comparison, I think about Star Wars. (I love Star Wars too.) That's also a story about a dysfunctional fucked-up family dynamic. But that family is fucked up because dad went on a magic-corruption-induced killing spree, and his twin children were separated at birth to be raised in seclusion with the intention of someday taking him down, and look, that's cool, but it's definitely not how people actually are. All of the dysfunction in that family is an outgrowth of the fantastical setting, which means it is fantastical dysfunction. It can occasionally mirror or remind us of real-life interactions, but it's a fantasy. Which is great and fun to watch and very comforting and so on, but I don't necessarily want that in every story, and I love Hades because it is not that, at all. When you extend out the basic 'kid trying to escape his toxic home environment', Hades is the story of Zagreus trying to get out with the help of his dad's estranged, complicated, wealthy and powerful family, who are absolutely part of the reason why dad is Like That in the first place, and may not be any more reliable in the long run but who he needs right now. And his stepmom and teacher, who love him enough to help him leave, unconditionally and supportively (ask me how many feelings I have about 'look, Hades can't hurt me for helping you, don't worry about me, I am going to take care of you and that means helping you get out of this house' coming from an adult authority figure, ask me). And his dad's employees, who like him but also have to fear the old man's wrath, and walk that line in different places the best they can. And stepmom's long-estranged parent, because this is a story about families and how they split apart and come back together. And all of that is so real, so grounded in actual, concrete, this-is-how-humans-work family dynamics. But it's also individual. The story works so well because Hades isn't just a silhouette of the controlling asshole father; he is clearly The Way He Is for reasons, complicated ones, good and bad alike. The Way He Is has details, particularities, paperwork, a dog he pretends not to love and rely on. He is specific. Nyx and Achilles are specific, not just generic kind stepmom here to be a trope inversion and cardboard cutout teacher. Nyx has backstory and personality of her own, Achilles has a complex history, opinions, a missing lover, and they BOTH have very particular relationships with Hades that aren't just boilerplate script. Yes, there's abstraction there, you meet these characters in brief visual novel-esque three-line conversations over the course of dozens of escape runs, of course there's abstraction--but there's the very real sense that all of these people have nuance, have good and bad days, that they've made choices to be who they are, even if we don't know what those choices are yet. And, like Star Wars, some of the ways in which this story is so specific rely entirely on the fact of the otherworldly setting! I've seen stories that go the other way, that try to use their setting entirely as window dressing, and they end up feeling so flat I can't even remember them right now because they don't let the environment lend complexity and nuance to their characters at all. The environment these characters live in matters. The absolute control Hades exerts over his surroundings is a divine power. The fact that everyone Zag runs into, for or against him, is either immortal or immortally dead, changes how the react to

one another and to the situation at hand. The shape of his attempted escapes (gauntlet combat with a variety of legendary weapons) might be an allegorical construct of the genre, true, but it doesn't work in any sort of real-world setting where there exists the possibility of authority figures above or aside from Hades and his extended fucked-up family. That's part of why the family is so fucked-up in the first place. But these changes still fit well within the realm of, 'yeah, if you took this extremely real-life dynamic and added these factors to it, I can envision people doing this thing'. I can envision these specific people doing this thing. They add to the specificity of these characters. Letting them be influenced by their unreal surroundings makes them more real. So hell yes for good storytelling!!!!

I'm still relatively early in the game (by which I mean I'm like thirty runs in but only just got past Meg for the third time, because I am not good at this game, although in my defense it's only the seventh video game and second button-mashing game I have ever played in my life so there's that), but I'm starting to develop suspicions about Persephone. Because, look, outside of Persephone's absence from the underworld, this story knows its Greek mythology, uses it, revels in it. And there is some kind of mystery still shrouding Persephone leaving in the first place. She left a goodbye to Cerberus in her letter but not to her own son. Nyx has warned Zagreus multiple times not to let the Olympians know she's his mother. He literally never even knew she existed. That's complicated! Add to that, Persephone left--the exact thing we are trying and failing to do again and again and again. She left with one note, which means either she managed a one-shot speedrun out of the entire realm or she had some other way to leave, because if she'd washed up in the Styx pool to plod back to her room and try again, she wouldn't've needed to leave the note in the first place. And, you know, she's Persephone. Really quite famous for leaving the Underworld! Also quite famous for being forced back. So. I'm wondering if Zagreus, so conspicuously absent from her goodbye, has something to do with it after all. Six pomegranate seeds condemned Persephone to six months, half a year, half her life. I wonder if a child that's half of her her constitutes a fitting trade instead. Which, of course Hades would be even more resentful and dismissive and cruel to the kid he got in place of the wife he loved (who he chased away by being cold in the first place). Of course Persephone would have difficulty saying goodbye to her son in those circumstances. It would make sense. The tricky thing here is how the Olympians fit into it, because I also suspect the rift between Hades and Zeus sprang from Persephone's departure. And yet, if the Olympians never knew Zagreus existed, let alone that he's Persephone's son--how can he count as payment into the deal in their eyes? So in that case, what does Zeus think is the justification for Persephone leaving, after the pomegranate thing? Or are we just not doing the pomegranate thing at all? It would be a shame to lose it entirely, out of a story that really seems to enjoy the myths it's playing with. And there should be something complex here, something more than simply 'mom fucked off and left because dad sucked and now I'm following her because same'. It feels more complex than that. 'Mom and dad had a baby to try and save their marriage, it didn't work, but when mom left she had to leave me behind because otherwise dad would have gotten the cops and her extended family involved' feels more right, while still just as grounded in reality as the story has been so far.

I sort of want to write some meta about how each of the six legendary weapons corresponds to their original divine wielder, but I haven't unlocked all of their codex entries yet (look I am very bad with ranged weapons in this game ok, I am working on it), and I still need to think about the details. Aside from, of course, fuck yes of course Hestia's the one with the railgun. Leave drama and elegance and traditional weaponry to her brothers and sister (Demeter, who knows how to get her hands dirty, gets a pass). Hestia is out here to get shit done. With a grenade launcher.

[july-19th-club]

Recap for Roswell: New Mexico S2E10: “American Woman”: tsela vie 

4/5 ⭐s

In “American Woman” we meet two more characters who have been oft mentioned but never seen, though only one of them turns out to (so far) not be involved in one of the many conspiracies or secret-keeping situations that envelop anyone who has ever lived, or known someone who has lived, in Roswell, ever, at any time. One of these people is Diego, the fiance Liz ghosted after a project they were working on got de-funded and she abruptly realized she only liked him when they were working together, panic-fled to her dad’s house, and started the plot of the show. 

The second is the third Manes sibling, Gregory, who is as lean as his brothers are baby-faced and, from what we see of him, significantly better-adjusted than either of them. They have a cordially estranged relationship (when the gang arrives, Alex sets about awkwardly introducing his friends until Gregory reminds him that they all went to the same high school). While Alex and Flint stayed more in their dad’s orbit well into adulthood, Gregory has distanced himself in what seems like a pretty healthy way. He now lives on a Diné rez where the boys’ mother grew up, and to which the gang has road tripped to track down more alien family history.

It’s a relief to me that there are only two major plotlines in this episode - we’ve had a lot of ones recently where the action was scattered across six separate people doing six very different things, which both made the recaps really long and made the action feel crowded. Here, things are more self-contained, and aside from a few instances of weird dialogue, it’s a strong 4-star ep. 

The road trip plot, which begins with a lot of fun Isobel bits and a general sense of excitement - we’re on our way! to learn about ourselves and share a car for hours! - becomes sober as soon as the actual learning about themselves starts to happen. Gregory has been briefed on the parts of the alien backstory that can be reasonably told to him without revealing the alienness, so he shows the siblings around town - first to Louise’s gravesite, then to visit an old man who knew her personally. There’s a little gravestone indicating a child, but that’s only half the story - because the child survived, and was adopted. 

Some of the flowers at Louise’s gravesite are the hard-to-come-by blue ones whose pollen can be used to dampen alien abilities. Of course Michael secretes some (assuming, I imagine, that he won’t have to levitate anything until he can take them out of his pocket). Hmm...little star-shaped flowers...ground stars? Like it fucking says on Maria’s preserved-flower necklace? It takes the characters far longer than you’d think to put this bit together. I can now say my theory about the DeLuca family was 100% correct. Louise, who survived the shootout, was ferried by Tripp to safety and later had a baby girl, Patricia (who would be Roy’s daughter). Patricia grows up, has a baby girl Mimi, who of course grows up to have our very own Maria. With only one alien in her family tree, Maria doesn’t flag medically as extraterrestrial, but there’s enough of Louise in her for a little bit of power. Her great-grandmother couldn’t have known how alien abilities would manifest in a human child, or alter that child’s brain. And we still don’t know why Patty was listed as having been involved in a Caulfield experiment - it’s possible that was just a coverup in order to disguise an even more dangerous truth. 

So our road trippers head home, marinating on what they’ve learned today. While the pod squad think about the past, Alex is encouraged to think about the future. There is a particular kind of stagnating hope that you learn as an adult child of an unstable or abusive parent if you haven’t completely put that parent out of your life. They have less power over you than when you were a child, so you’re able to grant them the benefit of the doubt sometimes, and maybe even try to see them as someone who can be vaguely redeemed. This is the position Alex is in. It’s a shuffle anyone with a similar upbringing will recognize intimately: really, Dad’s been a lot better lately, I mean, he sucked, no doubt about it, but he’s better than he was. Gregory illustrates the other way of coping with the dissonance: If you want to forgive him, go for it, he says, I’ll hate him for you. Neither way is right or wrong - they’re both just responses, that can be healthy or unhealthy depending on the individual. When they manage to push past that Manes machismo for a second and have a fucking hug, it feels like they both really needed it. 

Relatedly, given that we’re visiting a place with strong personal meaning for Alex, I guess I went in expecting more; knowing Jesse he can’t have been the most respectful partner for an indigenous woman, which seems like one out of many good reasons to divorce the man. But what are the boys’ relationships to this side of their family? It looks like Gregory’s the only one for whom it is a part of his daily life, but how does Alex fit it in, if at all? Did it have an impact on the fact that he specialized in codebreaking and encryption in the military? Does he speak much Navajo? Does it occupy the same comfortable-but-not-comfortable mental space as his gayness, or is it more of a positive or a negative or is he simply estranged from it? What about his gung-ho brother Flint? I know I just said that one of this episode’s strengths was the decision not to spread the focus too thin, so I guess what I’m saying is, it’s something I hope gets explored in the future, because to give it more weight in this episode would’ve meant moving Liz’s plot to avoid overcrowding. 

And Liz’s plot is even more sober than the road trip: she’s at the hospital taking her dad to his bloodwork and visiting Jenna, and ICE starts raiding the building. Despite the blatant illegality of ‘detaining people waiting for medical procedures,’ they start hauling people in, including Arturo. From there it’s a cumulative twenty minutes of screentime and several agonizing hours of plot time, Liz alternately panicking and steamrolling in her attempts to be heard, and getting roundly dismissed by people who don’t care that her dad has been a mild-mannered restaurateur for the past thirty years, or that she’s literally got his green card application docs in her purse, or that he doesn’t have his meds. If all this sounds lesson-y or pointed, it’s not. Sometimes even a soapy show needs to spend time in real life, and real life’s terrors. The ICE scare in “American Woman” is the mild, optimistic version of how this stuff works, because Jenna is there and supportive and helpful and uses her whiteness to grease wheels, and the ex-fiance shows up and has strings he can pull, and Arturo’s able to get home that same day, and he doesn’t spend the rest of the show in a concrete cell with a foil blanket and fifty other sardined-in people, or dying of treatable illness in custody. It occurs to me at some point in these proceedings that Michelle, for all the dismissive and rude things she’s said about the Ortechos over the years, absolutely knew their immigration status and never once considered reporting them. 

Just as I appreciated the slower pace, it also pays off to have most of this episode’s content be as grounded and realistic as it is terrifying or saddening. We’re gearing up for the last leg of the season here, and we’ll be in for intense, fantastical plots then; it’s smart to get our commentary on adult adoptees and childhood abuse and human rights in a quiet place where the audience will be able to appreciate it, rather than squeezed in between power battles and government kidnapping schemes. 

And the consequences of today’s two main plots do not leave us ripe for easy resolution. With Diego back in her life, and feeling like she owes him, Liz’s easy relationship with Max seems all too likely to be complicated by the realities of having a past. The stresses of not having a past are wearing away at Max’s new leaf, and he’s angsty and snappish and says he feels completely alone, which there’s no right way for Liz to take. They make up, this time, though, and Max’s jealousy towards Diego reads so admirable that I wish Isobel and Michael were here to needle him into admitting the tiniest sliver of bisexuality. 

And down in the junkyard lab, Michael and Alex have one of their heated little argumentative discussions, because (as I’ve come to consider it) they are simply too fundamentally good at challenging one another. Sometimes this is healthy, and useful - sometimes they just frustrate each other. Today, it’s the latter. Alex’s occasionally savvy investigative juices are flowing, and he wants to see what his dad would do if presented with the alien artifact. Maybe he would lead them to more artifacts - maybe even some of Nora’s work - but as Gregory reminded us, he’s been erring badly on the side of not enough caution about Jesse lately. And no matter how Michael points this out, Alex just reads it as the usual pod squad skittishness, and keeps pushing. He pushes them right into an unwinnable argument at the very root of the distrust and fear and isolation they’ve been living in all their lives, pushes hard enough to get himself pushed right back out the door...and into the waiting arms of an unseen assailant. 

At this point, one thing, to me, became clear: Alex was never meant to ‘go talk to recruits;’ as came up several times in conversation earlier in the episode, to the point where it stopped being background dialogue and became part of the viewer’s pool of potentially relevant stuff. In this case, ‘relevant’ means ‘a fiction that he probably never even questioned’ — and one that gives his captors several days before anyone will think to worry. 

LITTLE STARS ON THE GROUND

Isobel styling her hair in the milkmaid-type braid we see Louise wear a lot in the flashbacks is really a lot, for me, personally, especially since I don’t know if you can clearly see her hairstyle in the one photo they have. The idea of her doing it on accident just busts me up somehow 

Forrest, still constantly squinting in what I think he thinks is a sexy way, asks Michael if Izzy is his girlfriend. “EW?!” “Gross.” “Is that how I present?” Another mark in his disfavor if you ask me 

Michael spends much of the early episode attempting to be the buffer zone between Maria and Isobel’s sniping, and then everything gets both deadly serious and much, much funnier when it becomes clear that Izzy is Maria’s....maternal great-aunt? Something like that, anyway. 

One thing thing that confused me: in the first-season episode “Songs About Texas,” the gang meets a fake faith healer whose mom has some stories about a nonverbal woman who lived on a reservation and whose abilities the faith healer has created a mockup of for her act. I assume now that she was talking about Louise, but I didn’t get the impression that the characters have at all made this connection. 

Harry mentions noticing how Tripp has changed as a person, and Tripp expresses a sentiment Alex echoes at the end of the first season: a gradual disgust with calling oneself a good person while continuing to obey directives without question. We’re slowly getting a picture of a man who spent much of his life echoing the party line while privately working entirely against it. Within the framework of his worldview, which was undoubtedly very different from his dissenting descendant, he still attempted to form his own understanding of right and wrong. 

Trying to suss out the road trip setup: looks like Max is driving (though it’s Izzy’s car), Alex is navigating (because, although he is the smallest of the guys, he’s the one who knows where they’re going so can’t sit in the back), and Michael is crammed in with the Isobel-versus-Maria show (an attempt to keep order, but being too gangly to sit in the middle, doomed to fail). Five-to-six-person trips in minivan or hatchback-sized cars is always a recipe for bitching, no matter how much you all like each other. 

If we wanna talk lines of the episode, they go to Jeanine Mason, as the greatest fear of Liz’s life, one which she says she’s built her life around, finally hits her. 

Michael’s very awkward way of expressing to Isobel that, if she ever did want to have a kid and human procreation wasn’t an option, he would, as a non-biologically-related member of her own species, happily donate toward that goal and how genuinely touched Izzy is. Neither of them are thinking about re-populating their dying alien race, just about the fact that they might want to be parents. It’s honestly quite sweet, if a bit weird. 

[skeletalsepulchre]

I remember reading a book in english lit about a South African woman dealing with diaspora and all of my classmates laughed at the fact that she suffered constant emotional and physical abuse at the hands of her husband and would mock the style of writing by reciting first person quotes out loud in a fake accent of what they thought African people sound like.

I feel like even in cases where viewers DO understand xyz situation is wrong, they just don't CARE enough to have, idk, normal fucking reactions to media.

thats fucking disgusting.....i think part of it is this like................the refusal to see other people and beliefs as people even if it all comes from a deeply human connection....not that i think all cultures all the same or inequality is nonexistent but like...i saw a quote like uh

"you will always have more incommon with an iranian person than with an american billionare" and i think thats like. how i want to approach things. like the details and circumstances of stories change but there salways like. a deeply human connection to all of us and disregarding that is so...evil. its not even that a situation HAS to be wrong but like...when i read joy luck club when i watched encanto....the situation wasnt "wrong" in the sense that these people were meant to show a window of suffering but like. im always going to see myself reflected in those daughters who feel a deep disconnect from the past their mothers hold on to, but we can acknowledge both have valid reasons why they feel thsoe ways. ive never experienced the pain of immigration, but how can i look at abuela and how much she loves every single member of her COMMUNITY, the responsibility in the face of loss she feels,a nd not sympathize with her? and not see my own grandmother in her, who has lived through poverty and hardship and even now in her attempts to keep her family together, sometimes accidentally stifles the younger generations she doesnt understand?? how do i look at bruno and not see my own father, who despite being estranged and feeling guilt and being blamed for things he took part in, and yet who has suffered feeling alone and without his family and who i know loves me and wants to sit at my dinner table with a plate of his own even if i resent him for mistakes in the past??? granted encanto didnt go into necessarily the kind of darker themes you see in joy luck club or. in. like real fucking life (foribgve me i am high as shit) but encanto is such a deeply fuckign human story how do people just pretend like its NOT im crying rn actually hold on

[everything-laito]

the FBI agent looking at my computer must be so incredibly concerned. Here’s Laito and Cordelia analysis, Part II

Hiya, Corn here! This is Part II of this analysis series! Part one’s here! 

Not getting into the trauma part of it yet. Just explaining abusive power dynamics and how incestuous relationships work. As well as Stockholm syndrome. Lovely! Lovely combo! Fuck!!!

Same trigger warnings as last time still apply!

As always, rant under the cuuuuut!

Ok, from last time, we’ve established the elements that were set in place for Cordelia to do this to Laito, when Laito’s trauma began, and the possible fact that he was groomed as a child for sexual exploitation. Wow. Yay. Amazing. This is so gross!!! Thanks, I hate it!!!! I know I usually cary these topics with just an informational tone but I just can’t with this ;lskfjklsajf But I’m here typing this, you’re here reading this, so let’s just get on with the grossness!

Section 3: Legal Definitions of Incest and Power Dynamics 

Now we’re gonna get into the flesh of the problem, and what we know happened. From last time, and common DL knowledge, Laito was coerced into having sex with Cordelia. I say coerced, rather than forced, because it’s not like Laito seemed to resist it. He seems to “willingly” give Cordelia that. Is dubious consent, consent? Oh fuck no, and dubious or coerced consent shouldn’t even count in here considering it’s straight up incest. Any type of incest, most especially between a parent and a child, is not considered consensual, even if it “technically is.” That’s how it’s handled in a court of law, at least in America (where I’m from and reside in), and I do agree with that morally as well. A “romantic” and sexual relationship between a parent (or adult family member; aunt, grandfather, etc) and a child (is just gross) preys upon the power dynamic between them. This isn’t any consensual BDSM power dynamic (obviously), or a constructive power dynamic in the workplace; it’s just a power dynamic already instilled into the relationship where it is taken advantage of. That’s not just fucked up incest, that’s an example of a toxic relationship from the get go. Also, there’s a power dynamic usually between a parent and child, but that doesn’t mean it’s always toxic. It just needs to be done responsibly, which good parents (or any adult in power) know how to maneuver around it and not take advantage of it for manipulation etc. 

In healthy relationships, you both start on equal ground. It usually never works out if you don’t see the other as an equal, whether you have a predisposed power dynamic at the beginning or not. I’m talking any relationship; family relationships, friendships, romantic, sexual, etc. Although you older folks might know about BDSM and how there’s a “power dynamic” instilled in the relationship, a chosen and consensual “power dynamic” still involves both parties seeing the other one as an equal––intrinsically. It’s just very different than a predisposed power dynamic. That even goes with friendship too! Or any kind of healthy, nontoxic social interaction! Taken directly from Psychology Today, “Shared power creates happy individuals and satisfying interactions.” People need to be on equal ground in order to have a healthy relationship. Which,,,, we know does not happen with Cordelia and Laito (and Laito and Yui for that matter, but that’s during another part of this series). An article I saw during the research of this explains further about how power dynamics can be constructive. This focuses more on the workplace, but it applies to this because it’s looking at the other person as another person (an equal) but uses that predisposed power for encouragement, empowerment, and constructiveness (like a good parent or adult role model would do). I hope this makes sense!

Basically Cordelia is abusing her power in order to do all this to Laito. That’s why grooming would make a lot of sense in this as well, because we know it’s definitely not the first time Cordelia has taken advantage of a power imbalance to her own selfish benefit. That’s why incest isn’t really explained with the same science as pedophilia. I forget if I’ve mentioned it before, but one way pedophilia can occur in a person if their brain was originally biologically wired in a way that sees children as sexual objects. With incest, it could also work like that as well, but it is mainly power abuse, like most sexual exploitation, harassment, assault, etc is. 

Section 4: Incest (I’d make a sweet home Alabama joke but that’s low hanging fruit)

Ok so now that we’ve gone over the legality of incest, and how power dynamics can be taken advantage of, we’re gonna look into the type of incest (yes apparently there are types) that Cordelia and Laito fits into. Also if this already wasn’t clear or anything, hi incest and pedophilia etc are forms of abuse, there is no justifying it at all. It’s abuse, no matter what’s said. I know these are fictional characters but I sometimes see Ayato x Cordelia and Laito x Cordelia etc posts and I kinda just wanna commit heinous crimes whenever I see that. Just the idea of that absolutely sickens me (on top of the abuse shown in DL already). Anyways, after all of that out of the way, let’s go into this. 

Since Laito is biologically 17, I’d say that he’s considered as a child (teenager) by demon world standards. We don’t know his age when Cordelia first physically exploited him, but we do know that his same “teenage” sprite is used during the flashbacks. Since his trauma fits so well with the aftermath definition of parent/child incest, I’m just gonna give y’all information on that. This is also called “child incestuous abuse,” which is also a form of child sexual abuse. 

I learned an interesting factoid researching this, and that is in Japan, the most commonly believed incestuous relationship was between mothers and sons. In the West, we think of fathers/daughters. In Japan, the media covers more on mother/son incestuous acts; while statistically, more father/daughter incestuous acts are taken place. Just something interesting(?) I found, and probably why DL chose that for storytelling too. 

In this Wikipedia article, taken from a scientific paper (I’d take it directly from the source but you need an account to get in and I think you need to pay for it), it says this:

A study of victims of father–daughter incest in the 1970s showed that there were "common features" within families before the occurrence of incest: estrangement between the mother and the daughter, extreme paternal dominance, and reassignment of some of the mother's traditional major family responsibility to the daughter.

Sure, this talks about father/daughter incestuous relationships, but if we take this and reverse most of the roles, it shows Laito’s situation to a T:

Estrangement between Karlheinz and Laito 

Extreme maternal dominance (aka Cordelia being very abusive/manipulative)

Reassignment of some of the parental responsibility to Laito (there’s many examples of “big bro Laito,” and Ayato and Kanato considers that they used Laito as a “sacrifice”––as a “shield” for the both of them. Sure this isn’t explicit parental responsibility shown through Laito but I’d say he acts more like a family member to Ayato and Kanato too)

Section 5: Stockholm syndrome? With parental figures? 

Laito had some interesting situations occur during this whole thing with Cordelia. One of the most infamous scenes from the game (that’s also illustrated in the HDB manga) is a flashback Laito has where he’s locked up, forced to see Cordelia and Richter have sex. He’s appalled by the fact at first, but then attempts to convince himself that he’s into it. However, I won’t get into the effects until the next part. 

I didn’t find much about Stockholm syndrome being in this specific case with incest and kidnapping a child etc. When you look up Stockholm syndrome related to parents you get quite the sexist “article” that definitely mocks the whole Stockholm syndrome thing and makes fun of guys being into Glee and such,,,, so that wasn’t a very helpful article. However, I’m just gonna mish mash and put a lot of concepts that we’ve learned together. But first, a look into Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome occurs when an abuse victim develops empathy or even intimate feelings for their abuser or captor. This happens because any bit of kindness the abuser enacts towards their victim is taken so positively, that the victim “forgets” all the negative actions, and focuses on the positive ones. This isn’t some sort of “oh ya gotta think positive!” kind of thing, it’s how abusers get away with their bullshit and how someone can be so trapped in a relationship with them. It’s also called traumatic bonding or victim brainwashing (source). This doesn’t always happen with people who are held hostage, like in Stockholm syndrome’s name origin.

A parent’s influence can be a strong one. Doesn’t even have to be related to by blood. But a figure that is supposed to be nurturing—whether they are or not—still has power over the “child.” He definitely went through Stockholm Syndrome himself with Cordelia, considering the grooming and the “love”/hate relationship he has with Cordelia. I did some more digging, and apparently Stockholm Syndrome can still occur more commonly with sexually abused victims. Which we all know he is. With the possible grooming, on top of the power abuse and sexual abuse, creates an incredibly toxic concoction. Here we go. The (rotten) cherry on top. Directly from my HDB notes, here’s a snippet from his Maniac Prologue: 

Cordelia: Nnn…Hey, Laito. You are a good boy. Laito: …!! Cordelia: Right, Laito? Laito: Yeah, that’s right. I’m…I’m a good boy after all.  ーー Besides, I’m the type of person who only get more aroused from this kind of thing.

(from my notes:) Basically Laito convinces himself to be a “cuckhold.” It’s definitely implied how he just wants approval from Cordelia; this is how this abuse prolongs. 

(Also, if I ever said that Laito was locked up by Cordelia, my bad; it was Karlheinz who gave that order. I’m unsure where I ever said this, but I feel like I said it before, so I’m gonna clarify that right now too, oops! My memory hath failed me.)

Cordelia’s praise effects Laito in such a visceral way that he tries so hard to cope with the trauma in her favor. It’s incredibly messed up. But that’s the defining factor in this. From this, I do believe Laito has Stockholm syndrome on top of all of his issues. 

I think I’m gonna end it here for now. Didn’t expect to be this long, oops. Stay tuned for next time, where I’m gonna go over Laito’s trauma and how he’s been effected by it. Thanks for reading, FBI agent! And oh, you as well, dear reader! 

If you’ve read this far holy fuck I commend you -Corn

[lassieposting]

Bit late and random but it's the anon you leave food out for here to give away I am also bi and I think exactly the same as you about bi val pretty much, every time Derek offers me representation my reaction is to slowly, hesitantly take it and say "thaaaaaaaaanks..." while rolling my eyes, in much the same way one accepts their least favourite flavour of sweet from an annoyingly enthusiastic uncle-type-individual. Ironically I feel I had more in common with her before the bi shit started up.

What I find really amusing is that Landy actually did reasonably well at representation when (and only when) he wasn’t trying. 

Oh god, this got long, anon, my ass rambled.

tldr; I'm glad actual bi people dislike bi val (or how Laundry handled bi val) as much as me, this will probably offend at least one person but i don't really care, Dirty Laundry wrote better rep when he didn't mean to write rep at all, and if he ever starts trying to "represent" groups I'm part of I'll take him out back like a dying horse and shoot him.

Like, yes. He had stupid and potentially offensive shit - I say potentially because what offends one member of a group won’t necessarily offend all of them. His attitude to mentally ill people is, frankly, disgusting. We’ve had “Skulduggery can’t be abused, he doesn’t have feelings”. We’ve had “eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY”. We had Ping, who seemed to be pretty much universally offensive. And that's what's always going to happen when a straight, cis, white, wealthy, male author tries to write marginalised groups he doesn't know shit about, because inevitably he's going to fall back on stereotypes.

But we also had:

SEXUALITY REP: Phase One's nonstraight characters were treated like the straight ones, and like, isn't that the whole point? There was no need for a massive Coming Out Story TM to grab for those sweet sweet Woke Points, because sexuality isn't supposed to be important to mages. I never understood why Val needed that whole Coming Out Panic storyline. Like...Des and Melissa are ridiculously supportive, encouraging, loving parents. They accepted you dating a ~19 year old when you were ~16. They accepted you revealing you could do fucking magic and that you'd been lying to them for like seven years. They took your undead buddy in stride and the most pressing question your dad had was whether magic toilets exist. There is zero reason to think that "I'm bisexual" is gonna be the thing that makes them flip and throw you into the streets in disgrace, Valkyrie. Come on.

Tanith had girlfriends and it was just mentioned casually, because it's normal.

China had massive UST with Eliza. That was an opportunity right there to not only include a f/f relationship, but also to bring back one of the few precious surviving characters from Phase One, using characters and a relationship that already had several books' worth of setup and tension and interest from fans.

The Monster Hunters have a casual conversation about which one of the Dead Men they'd date.

Ghastly has a conversation with Fletcher about the pain he's been through being in love. He never uses any pronouns.

It was confirmed at one point re: the Dead Men that at this point, after 300-odd years, everyone's been with everyone else at some point.

Thrasher is gay, and while Scapegrace's...everything...is treated as a joke/comedic relief, Thrasher's love for him isn't. He's completely devoted to Scapegrace, and that in itself is not played for laughs, even though the rest of the scene usually is. Thrasher's description of their first meeting is essentially a love-at-first-sight situation for him.

"ABNORMAL" RELATIONSHIP REP: Age gap relationships are normal for mages. Off the top of my head, using only canon, canon-implied or almost-canon ships:

Ghastly/Tanith (~350 year age difference)

Tanith/Sanguine (~250+ year age difference)

Tanith/Saracen (~350 year age difference)

Caisson/Solace (~250 year age difference)

China/Gordon (~400 year age difference)

Kierre/Temper (~500+ year age difference)

If you include fan ships, there's also things like Mevolent/Serpine or my Mevolent/Vile, which are both ~600 year minimum age gaps based on the timeline, or Valdug (and its variations) which is ~400 years.

Now, whether you consider this kind of rep positive or negative is up to you, but it’s there.

MENTAL ILLNESS REP: more like "Which characters in this series don't have a mental illness or a personality disorder?" I have some of these issues, but not all of them, so this is just how I read it, but:

ADHD: Skulduggery

Dissociative Identity Disorder: Skulduggery & Vile

Dissociation: Skulduggery again, most notably in DD and DB

Schizophrenia (or similar): Valkyrie & Darquesse, Valkyrie "seeing" Darquesse's ghost thing in Phase Two

Impostor Syndrome: Reflectionie

Autism: Clarabelle

Trauma/PTSD/CPTSD: Skulduggery, Valkyrie, China, Ghastly, Erskine...pretty much everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. People struggling with trauma are spoilt for choice of characters to see themselves in.

TRAUMA REP: This series is a trauma conga line, but everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. I see little bits of myself in more than one Phase One character.

Childhood Abuse (of varying degrees & types): Skulduggery, Carol & Crystal, Omen, Fletcher, Ghastly, China, Bliss, Sanguine...

Estranged Family: Skulduggery abandoning his crest, Fergus & Gordon, China & Bliss

Bad Romantic Relationship: Skulduggery is also very clearly an abuse victim. He’s got a solid history of romantic attachments to women who manipulate, use and gaslight him for their own agendas.  There's a whole paragraph in SPX about how Abyssinia broke him down, isolated him from his friends and preyed on his desperate need to be loved, all classic abuse tactics.

And I’m personally a huge fan of this backstory for two reasons:

1) Society likes a plucky victim in media. The "My suffering made me stronger" type of victim. And it's not always like that in real life. Not all survivors come out of their abuse stronger or kinder or more understanding. Some of us come out cold and fucked up. Some of us end up as emotionally stunted, bloodied-nails-and-bared-teeth survivors, broken in ways that can't be fixed and sustained by enough rage to power a small sun. But society doesn't like to tell the story of that kind of survivor, because we're not usually a likeable protagonist. When we're shown in media, we're usually the sympathetic villain, or maybe the antihero. But Skug is someone who's done awful things and lost pretty much all his faith in humanity and been burned more times than he can count, and he still makes the conscious choice to try and be the good guy when he could so easily go Evil Supervillain on the world, and I don't know about any of y'all, but I've modelled myself on him in that. I've made the choice to do something good when all I really want to do is just become a horrible, shrivelled ball of nastiness and revenge. And that's because I saw him do it and realised that I could do that too.

Skug is an incredibly capable, strong, masculine Man's Man. He gets in fights all the time, and he usually wins. He's military, an industry that's Really Bad for stigmatizing weakness and mental illness, and he's right up at the top of the hierarchy. Almost everyone is afraid of him. He's a straight up cold-blooded killer. Skulduggery Pleasant is precisely the type of person who's not normally portrayed as a victim of anything. Nothing about him screams "victim" at all. But his abuse history is insidious. He's so conditioned to respond in a certain way to abuse from the women in his life, probably from a very young age, that despite all that strength and capability and stubbornness and ego, he just goes along with it. And it's an established pattern going back hundreds of years. He keeps going back to China, even though he knows she's bad for him and his friends keep telling him to stay away from her. Abyssinia latched onto him when he was traumatized and vulnerable and weaponized it against him to make him easier to control - and when she reappears, hundreds of years later, she jumps straight back into using, tmanipulating and gaslighting him and not only does he let her, he doesn't even seem to realise that behaviour is abusive. He thinks it's normal! That's how he's always been treated by his long-term girlfriends, with the notable exception of Wifey. Even when Val is being fucking nasty to him in the first couple books of Phase Two, sniping and lying and blaming him for everything under the sun, he just takes it. There's no attempt to tell her she's being unreasonable, no telling her to fuck right off and give her head a wobble, no defending himself even when she's bitching over something that isn't even his doing. And this is a man who has an absolutely gleaming steel spine the rest of the time; Skug has no problem saying no to anybody else, but he can't get past the way he's been taught to treat the important ladies in his life. Skug is a walking reminder that anyone can be a victim of abuse, even the ones who seem least likely to be susceptible.

GENDER REP: This one is the most iffy out of the bunch and definitely was not done very well in the eyes of the people who matter most, but I'll include it anyway because it mattered to some.

So there's Nye, who's...agender? Genderless? And uses "it" pronouns? Nye was generally considered horrible rep because it's also a war criminal and experiments on people and I've seen people say "Well I don't want to be seen like that" but? It's still possible to be a war criminal and also genderless. I never saw the two things as being related or relevant to each other.

There's also Mantis, who's in exactly the same gender/pronouns boat as Nye and always seems to be forgotten about, which sucks because Mantis is a war hero. It fought for the Sanctuary during the War and they never lost a battle when it was in command. It's called out of retirement to fight for the Supreme Council in LSODM, ends up fighting alongside Skulduggery during the Battle of Roarhaven, and ultimately dies attempting a very brave, very risky strategy. Mantis is, unreservedly, one of the good guys. It was also my introduction to sentient beings using "it" pronouns, and did it in a way that felt natural, so when I met my first person online who used "it" pronouns and hated to be referred to as he/she, it was...weird, but not as weird as it would otherwise have been, because I was like, "Oh yeah, like the Crenga. Okay."

And then there's the Scapegrace sex change plotline, which...I might have an unpopular opinion on this one. From what I’ve seen, trans people don’t seem to think was handled well or with any sensitivity at all. I’m not trans, so if the trans community says he was being offensive to them, I’m not going to claim otherwise. But...I first read the Scapegrace plotline as a young teenager in a tiny rural school with zero diversity, going through a period of being deeply confused about my own gender identity. He was more or less my first introduction to the idea that genitals =/= gender. I was relieved, at that point in my life, to read someone having a lot of the same thoughts I was having about being in the wrong body. So while it may have been badly done and yeah, the series would probably have been better without it, it did make at least one kid suspecting she might not be cis go “Huh! So there are other people who feel like this.”

Thrasher is also implied to be legitimately trans/gender-questioning, and that's not played for laughs either.

So? Phase One, while it absolutely had faults and issues and things that were just "Oh god why", was actually full of rep, at least compared to the other series that I read as a child/teen. But? As soon as Dirty Laundry started trying to be woke? He fucking sucks ass at it. Aside from confirming Phase One's hints that Skug has a background of abusive relationships, every single attempt at shoehorning rep into Phase Two is Bad.

The painfully OOC, forced, badly-written awkwardness of Val suddenly being rabidly horny for women out of fucking nowhere. The stilted, forced cringiness between her and any of the women she's flirted with - contrast that with Sorrowscorn's interactions, full of natural chemistry that had us all like 👀 I mean, I never shipped Val/Melancholia, but I could always see why people did - they had miles more chemistry than Val/anyone in Phase Two.

The fucking mess that is v*litsa, because if someone says "I'm really not interested in friendships/relationships right now", clearly the route to true love is to bulldoze their boundaries and forcibly insert yourself into their life and proceed to treat them like a delicate soft uwu flower, completely ignoring the horrible things they've done, while gleefully damning their best friend as an irredeemable monster for the exact same things, which is. You know. Gonna affect your so-called love's self-confidence and self-esteem because she knows she's no different to him. Y'all know I love an angsty ship, an unhealthy ship, a ship with fucked power dynamics, but I literally cannot roll my eyes any further back in my head at this shit. I never read Demon Road, but from what I've heard from friends who did, it does seem like every time Laundry tries to write an f/f ship, he comes up with a cringey abusive/manipulative caricature and tries to call it rep, and he needs to Stop.

Val's Mental IllnessTM arc. It's funny how he wrote Skulduggery as a wonderfully complex character with deep-rooted psychological damage and long-lasting trauma, but believes he wrote a character with "no feelings" - but when he tries to delve into the damage the world of magic has done to Val, he turned her into a weak, whiny drug addict who treats everyone around her like garbage and is so selfish and dislikeable that I? Honestly can't even reconcile Phase Two val with Phase One val. They're two completely different people. He's shown on Twitter that he doesn't have any respect for mentally ill people, and it shows. Other mentally ill people might see it differently, but the whole thing just makes me go "yikes".

Never, who has no personality outside of being genderfluid, and whose pronouns make no sense. I'm sorry, I have never met an nb person who insists that you change from male to female pronouns multiple times in a sentence, every time you refer to them. It's confusing as fuck. Now I have been told that Never has apparently received some character development in the last couple books, and if so, fair play, but I quit reading after Midnight, and Never and the rest of the personality-less new characters introduced in Phase Two who just seemed to be 2D Stereotypes to snag Woke Points were a big part of why, so. Development too late, I'm afraid.

(Now, if anyone is looking for a well-written genderfluid character, I recommend the Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb. I have a lot of issues with her as a writer, and unfortunately I hate her POV character which puts me off the series as a whole, but she wrote the Fool/Amber/Lord Golden and their gender identity/approach to sexuality with so much more respect and realism. That is the kind of rep nb people should be getting: 3D, complex, realistic characters whose gender is only a tiny fragment of their personality, not the be-all-and-end-all of their existence. You know. Like cis people get. Nobody wants to be represented by a 2D cardboard cutout stereotype.)

Anyway idk how much sense this makes it just really amuses me that Laundry would include all this rep completely unintentionally and then go on Twitter and remind us all that actually he's a massive asshole via insensitive/offensive tweets about the groups he'd actually done a fair job of including (i.e. Skulduggery has no feelings, mentally ill people should find another series to read, the bullshit about Val being "heteromantic bisexual" on Twitter and then spouting all the "the woman she loved uwu" shit in the books (proving he has no idea what he's talking about), eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY. He can only write half-decent rep when he's not trying and he inevitably outs himself as having a really shitty attitude towards those people anyway, proving that ultimately it's all either unintentional rep or performative wokeness.

[prorevenge]

Manipulative Power hungry Aunt torments my family for years. Costs her $300000

Dealt with my shitty manipulative abusive Aunt all my life, finally got revenge.

Players: Myself (M late 30s), Sister (3 year younger), Aunt (Older "Sister" to my Mother), Mother (Single Mom, adopted, no blood relation to my Aunt). Cousins (3 total, 1M, 2F. I have good relationships with them now, mostly).

My estranged father who had been living several counties over, is pretty much out of the picture by the time my parents got their divorce when I was 9. Due to financial hardship, we were forced to live with my Aunt and the nightmare of a household we would soon find ourselves in. My Aunt married into Georgia "Wealth" and you can figure out what that means on your own. She had 3 kids and eventually caught her husband having an affair. It's a huge scandal, she gets the house, the kids and a fat payout from the family attorney. This is important because my Aunt didn't do a damn thing in her life to earn her money, her house, her lifestyle or basically anything. She was born poor along with my Mom.

Under her household, she was drunk with power. Years of therapy have allowed me to recognize that certain people when in a position of power, get a perverse pleasure in ordering others to do their bidding. She was the strictest of authoritarians in every possible way you could imagine. Chores had to be completed by an exact specific time. Vacuuming by 3:45pm, Dishes by 3:55pm, Laundry days for my Mother us kids were Tues/Thurs 5:35pm-7:55pm. If it was still running, she would shut the power off for the two units. As we grew older, her own kids opted to stay with their father for full time custody and she had them on Weekends. Even they couldn't stand her when she was in charge and in the house. As time passed, she got them less and less opting for alternating weekends as Highschool activities took precedence over time with Mother.

For my sister and I, the large 6 bedroom house was not ours for the taking. My mom had to pay rent as well as rent for 1 bedroom as that was all she could afford on her salary. We had to share a bedroom until my second year of HS. All the while there was 1 spare unused bedroom available at all times. My Aunt needed this for "Guests" when they stayed over. Not one guest stayed there in the 10 years I was under that roof. Finally the church we attended told my Aunt to give up the spare bedroom so my sister can have her own room as it was "unhealthy" for two teenagers sharing a room together like that. That infuriated my Aunt because someone told her what to do in her own household. My sister and I got the brunt of her wrath. As my Mom's salary was tapped out, my sister and I had do extra chores like mowing the lawn, trimming the shrubs, cleaning the pool which we could no longer use without her being outside watching us.

My Aunt's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous and disconnected from society. For example, she had always snapped her fingers when she wanted to get someones attention, but it was getting far more frequent and she would blow up into a tirade if either my sister and I didn't obey. Her own kids tried repeatedly to tell her that the shit she was doing was wrong but she wouldn't listen.Eventually they wanted nothing to do with her outside of the home. She was a tyrant there and repeated intervention to get her to see the folly of her ways would fall on deaf ears.

I Snapped:

All through HS I had no confidence as a person. I was weak willed and growing ever distant from friends and society. I say this in all truthfulness and fear, that had circumstances continued the way they had been going, I could very well had taken a gun to myself or worse, to others around me. I was that bad off.

I had just graduated HS and started my first semester of community college. I'm 2 weeks into my classes attending from home when my Aunt drops a bomb on me. "You owe me $$$ for this months rent, the same amount for next months rent as well. It is the 27th after all. You're an Adult now. You're out of HS and working now, so you need to pay rent" The fuck? I blew a fucking gasket as I yelled back. "You can't just suddenly decide to charge me rent just because you feel like it. I need 30 days notice, I have rights".

My Aunt yelled at me some bullshit excuse that she had discussed this with my mother and it was decided that I needed to pay my own rent now. In some miraculous backbone move, of which I still have no idea how I stood up to her, I yelled right back at her, "If I'm an Adult, then treat me like and talk to me about rental agreements. I'll start paying you rent in 30 days starting the 1st." I turned my back to her and walked away with my fists balled tight. I was furious with anger but I walked away. My Aunt saw my fists from behind and screamed bloody murder that I was going to attack her. No, I wasn't. She snapped her fingers at me repeatedly on my tail to get my attention but I didn't turn around. I needed to cool off and clear my head. As I turned the corner, she grabbed my wrist hard yelling "I'm not finished talking to you". I threw my still balled up fist forward keeping with my stride to break her grip as I hadn't stopped my momentum. This caused her grabbing arm to slam hard into the corner of the wall that I had just turned into. She screamed in pain but I left the house and took off.

The aftermath of that incident was that my Aunt called the cops on me in an attempt to press charges. She was taken to the hospital and suffered a fractured wrist and she was put in a cast/sling (don't know as I never saw it and never inquired further). Her story changed every time she told the cops what happened while my story was spot on every time. I can still recall that moment down to the smell in the house, where I was facing, the working and non-working lightbulbs etc. Forever ingrained in me. I was kicked out of the house and I couldn't visit my sister or my Mom there at the house again. Fine by me as I didn't want to see my bitch Aunt ever again. I was happy to meet my Mother and sister at the local diner or outlet. We could be ourselves there and not hostages in our own home.

Years Later:

My Mom wised up and got out of that abusive relationship with her sister and moved out on her own. She got a temporary nice place, invested wisely and with the help from the church, got help getting a place of her own. In 2009 after the housing crisis, she bought her own place that she could never have afforded on her own prior the Market crash. But some good came out of it. She wept knowing my Sister (and her family) and myself can come visit any time and stay.

Over the years I've been able to forgive my Aunt. Not forget, Forgive. I've let go a lot of my anger and hatred toward her that she put me through. When she has no leverage or control over us, she's a somewhat decent person for being a total bitch of a person. My Cousin's have calmed down, heard my side of what happened those years ago and know what kind of person I am compared to what kind of person their Mother is. They chose to believe me and know I didn't hit her or strike her or beat her across the face like she continues to claim.

The Revenge:

While I have been able to forgive my Aunt for what she has done to me, I cannot forgive her for what she did to my Mother. Kept her in financial hardship for a decade while she sat on a bank account full of cash and assets. Or what she did to my Sister. Forced her to pay for damages because the water heater burst while my Aunt and Mother was away one weekend leaving my sister at home. She didn't discover the flooded rooms for hours. My Aunt's reasoning, "It was her responsibility to watch the house." Not the responsibility of the home owner to maintain/replace the water heater before it goes. Lets leave that Upfront $5000 financial burden before the Flood insurance kicks in on a 16 year old girl.

I've had little to no contact with my Aunt since I was kicked out of the house nearly 2 decades ago. But I do keep in constant contact with my cousins. While I'm not going to divulge what I do for a living, I can say that I work with and for the Government. I've worked my ass off getting to where I'm at today. I'm known for being truthful, wise and giving good advise when asked. Because of this, I often talk financially with my cousins. All of whom are money-smart and are doing well for themselves. They often then relay this information to their scheming mother who has no mind for business and investments. All that money she got from her house sale, her divorce settlement, her previous investments is pretty much gone. I spent YEARS planning on the perfect trap and it took a long time to prepare everything to make sure everything appeared right.

IANAL and I don't pretend to know the law but I do know the regulations and laws pertaining to insider information. This is not that. 100% certain of it and if I ever go to court, I know my lawyer has a solid case in my defense. But is this a grey area, most definitely. I let slip to my Cousins about some future real estate plans near my Aunt's new area of living. It "may" be worth a lot more because of future development taking place in the area. All of that was true and backed up by what was in the News paper and New Construction signs that newly appeared on Google Maps (at the time). The rest was fabricated by myself backed up by actual information I looked up on real estate websites and on projects I was working on through my work.

The Telephone game takes place and a few weeks later I presume, my Aunt starts making phone calls to real estate agents trying to buy lots of Land in the undeveloped shitty area of her new house. Over the course of a few months to a half a year, she spends $300,000 of her last remaining savings on land hoping it will pay out when the area around it gets developed in the upcoming years.

Only, HUD/Government/City doesn't have any plans to develop in those immediate areas. In fact, analysis showed that building in those areas was poor planning and would cost the tax payers twice to three times as much as the land was not environmentally sound. It was best to build 6 miles away.

This post was long overdue because it's been over 2 years since my Aunt purchased Land that is basically worthless. See, she won't sell the land unless she gets at least the same price she paid for it because she's the OWNER of that land. Can't tell her what to do on her own land. Sweet Karma strikes in a way I couldn't possibly have foreseen. My cousin informed me that the value of the land has decreased significantly because it's not environmentally sound to build anything commercial there. But it's zoned for commercial use. Currently 3 of the 4 blocks of land she purchased are just weed farms next to eye sore abandoned buildings or industrial complexes. Nobody can build on it and nor does anyone want to buy it. Sucks to be her!

Best part is, my cousins have absolutely no idea that I set them up for their Mother to take the fall. These environmental results are relatively new and the perfect cover to say why the Project changed locations 6 miles away.

TL:DR Abusive Aunt torments my family and myself for a decade and more. Decades later, I am in a position to trick her buying worthless land. Icing on the cake, that land can't be used for it's intended purpose and has devalued significantly.

(source) story by (/u/Limecherrry)

[daughterofhel]

.

My icon died last night.

The little black and white cat, Auk (or-ick). A silly name from a badly remembered name from my childhood.

He was pretty much deaf; car got him.

I haven’t seen him since I left Texas, as I moved for a year to VA before finally moving to be with my wife in Vento. One of my guy friends family took him in on their ranch.

It was fitting; I did get Auk from a ranch. He was used to it, loved it even. And this was without the competition of an unhealthy amount of breeding stays like the ones I grabbed him and Ivy up from. I could only take two, my friend the same.

Funny. I had originally gone there to see the birth of a colt only to leave with a cat. Return the next day and get one more, a friend for my tiny runt of a thing.

And who should but all demand it be him to leave with me but Auk? The friendliest of cats that I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. He also thwarted my attempts at having two girl cats. He was insistent to leave with me and you don’t argue when you’re chosen you know?

I won’t detail the tears following or the rough road and chaos that went on, but many double shifts back to back to back endlessly, a medicated clumsy grandmother with rapidly failing health, and complex roommate situations, I just wasn’t able to provide the needed time and care for my cats.

I cried the entire 45 minute drive to my buddys property when he said he could take them in. I had to pull over twice. They also cried the entire time, being afraid of the car, which made it harder. My buddy, He was the same guy who rescued a big pup clearly abandoned some years back. I had helped train him to not jump on people and other stuff. His folks also owned a longhorn ranch, lots and lots of space.

Those cats deserved better and this was a familiar element, now neutered, vaccinated, and with no stray competition and the dog was so careful. But god. I never wanted to say goodbye to my cats. It didn’t matter though, what I wanted; they needed care and time I wasn’t able to keep providing.

So I dropped them off. As expected, Ivy kept close but never got too close to the family. She simply doesn’t trust; I’ve no idea why such a little thing bonded instantly with me and remained quite the fixed cuddle bug. But she had. I felt worse about it with her than Auk if I’m to be honest.

Auk loved attention. Loved fetch. Belly rubs. This cat was a classic dog and a huge whore for attention. XD He essentially made himself at home and lavished any and all attention, to which my buddies mother instantly fell for this fuzzy dorks charms. He has been well cared for.

I know younger me could’ve and should’ve done better when I got these cats. Mind you, I’ve been gone for over 10 years now, so it has been quite some time. I’m doing what I wish I could have done for my cats then with the two rescues we got last year here.

I was young and working so many hours for nearly no profit after stuff was paid, even living at home and with roommates. I couldn’t afford the extra vet fees I needed or the fanciest of foods or any of that. I loved them, and I felt them being with me instead of the half starving state they were in from constantly competing with so many other cats, was still a better option for them. I still was at least able to do some of the important visits for them.

I cleared their fleas and earmites. I never did get rid of Ivys worms, though I desperately tried. I tried so many ways to get this pill into that cat. Even crushed into wet food. Friends helping to wrap and hold her to make her swallow. All the tricks we found, failed. She just. She wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t have the cash to go every single day and time she needed a dose to a pet clinic. I had checked more than once. It was so much money.

Older, better situated now.. I’ve been able to do right by the cats, Nyx and Tivali, that I have now.

We even saved Nyx’s eye. We have a system to give her her seizure medicine every 12 hours. They’re both fully up to date with their shots and are fixed. Ears totally clean. Monthly newly added anti flea tick collars.

The best food we can reasonably find at the local pet shop; their pelts are beautiful, soft, shiny, and they never smell.

We’ve even found a biodegradable corn based litter we can flush which has been the greatest find.

We get semi regular check ups on our girls and they’re doing just fine now. I’m still proud about saving Nyx’s eye. It was a tedious ordeal. 3-4 times a day we had to clean and medicate a cats eye. We got good at it even if she wasn’t fond of it. Thankfully the vitamins they required were like treats. Even the antibiotics from the colds they had from the shelter.

I miss Auk. And Ivy. And I wish I could’ve not only given them the life I’ve given my current cats now, (I’ve constructed basket beds, hammocks, a whole canopy jungle gym and rope bridge to boot for them with my wife!), but I wish I could have been the one to have them in my life still. I know it was not possible. It wouldn’t have been possible.

But I think of them. A lot. And I knew it was inevitable. Auk would’ve been well over 13 or so years by now. A little old but could’ve lived longer yet for sure. My buddy didn’t mention he has gone deaf. Of course he rarely goes home himself; I don’t blame him. Life’s complicated.

I have mourned these two cats multiple times now. So I’m not thrown into tears upon this news, I’ve cried plenty over the years already. But I’m still sad to hear that fuzzy delight has passed on. I won’t ask, but I hope, and believe, the accident was a quick end for such a friendly guy.

I’ll mourn him eventually in full. I know I will. But considering this is the fourth major bad news I’ve gotten in less than a month and most of it a week, I thought to write about it. If only to keep sane.

May I not receive the same news of my grandmother or my sister who both remain in the hospital.

And god. May my mother stop forcing me to recall and talk about our shared trauma under my father and just keep me up to date on my families health. I don’t want to be crushed under this suffocating vice on my neck that makes me hesitate to call and see my family. I know she needs to vent. And god. I try to let her. I do. I try to be kind; she needs it.

But it isn’t the time and place when I’m trying to figure out if my grandmother is dying or getting better. I shouldn’t have to receive that confirmation, be granted a brief video called hello and check in, with the price of an hour long dredge through a past I personally have gone to two different types of therapy through to try and cope with. Which, only to some degree, have helped.

One of the last longer calls we had she all but said she hoped her theories on my father possible molesting me were true, so, you know, that would be one more trauma we had in common. She went on and on, even trying to provide loose evidence to her theory. Troubling sentences I would say in my rare visits. Etc. She just. Wouldn’t. Stop. And that was after an hour of recalling how terrible her life was with my father and the abuse, the screaming, the terror, the hiding, the injuries, all of it. As if I wasn’t left to live my life with this very man she said her three years with ruined her more than all her past shit combined.

She assured me she was a good mother who tried. And honestly. No. But I do believe she tried. But she was already weak emotionally and mentally and my father wrecked what was left. She left me sometimes for a couple days lock in that house when I was in diapers. You don’t forget that shit. I’m still scared of the dark. I can’t reason with myself on it. But being mad about all of it doesn’t change anything and would hurt a woman already broken. Why would I do that.

Still. It bothers me. So fucking much. But she’s such a fragile person in a fragile emotional state with everything else on top. She’s been heavily depressed for many many years and it’s a bunch of other stuff that spirals and honestly, at this point, she’s toxic even to herself. I’ve tried working on it with her but it matters not if she’s not willing to work on it too. I don’t know my mother besides her many traumas. We’ve been separated and estranged for most of my life. Unless I was physically able to actually be there and provide a use.

But that’s par for the course; no one will have you around if you’re unable to provide something for it. My wife’s the first person who genuinely seems to enjoy having me around just because and wants nothing more. I do stuff of course; but with her I am not afraid a slip up could mean everything it taken away and lost. I can forget the dishes once or had a bad mental health day and stay in bed without it having catastrophic consequences. She’s such a wonderful kind woman; I cannot help stressing over how to repay her.

I try and I’ve expressed my distraught on the topic and though she always seems baffled and confused about my insistence that I should be doing far more, that lass doesn’t agree at all. It’s her parents home so I am not able to freely run the house as I would on our own, as I’m able and have in many places, so I’m often less useful with the restrictions. She’s also use to the flow and swing of things and has things half done before it’s being asked.

Our own place will make life smoother and calmer for both of us; most importantly her. I’ve watched this family, sweet, but absolutely tone deaf to how many and often their demands are tossed to her. All the other kids moved out with partners. Hell, the oldest s child basically lives here. Our own hurdle with raising a kid who we don’t have the final say on any single thing. His grandparents are enablers cuz they don’t want to hear any loud noises, no matter what. And that causes strain when the kid can and does get anything and everything as long as he kicks up a fit. And he sure as hell does. There are days it’s so bad my wife’s in tears. And that pisses me off. The kids a good person, but the fact no one will actually parent and draw definite lines and be firm with No’s can also make him horrible too.

I’ve to deal with the chess match that is my father. I often call him my own personal Devil. He kind of is. But one I’m familiar enough with at this point in my life. I know where and when to cut my losses, where to step around, when I need to swallow my pride or the easily seen through lies, and nod my head. If he was all terrible, I could have cut him from my life. But no one ever really is. And I do know I owe it to the man; he has helped tremendously in my life as much as he’s been a big problem of it. I know his biggest fear is to be alone and forgotten. I wouldn’t do that, not even to the devil.

I need some bland news. Not thrilling. Not depressing. Just some ‘hey that happened’ ‘oh cool.’ Kind of news. Just a small reprieve.

Im. Scared. Of what’s next.

I. Know that things are teetering dangerously into a very very tragic terrible story on my mothers end. I know her husbands already super suicidal. My half brothers severely autistic, non verbal, among a few other things and will require his whole life to have someone be there for him. He’s not stupid, and I hate when people treat him as so, but he is absolutely unable to care for himself. He doesn’t have the right motorskills even, though we’ve gone to many different places to try and help him find ways to do actions in his own way that still get the same result. I admire how he’s such a positive little man, generally not just happy, but delighted. I aspire to look at the world like he does. He reminds me to try. I do love that about him.

He is, however, a Big boy, 15 now, and growing. He’s also very strong now. My mother is getting to an age where his, as well call em happy slaps, are really hurting her. He is generally good about slapping your hands and not your back if you provide them. But when he is upset he is a shover; one bad fall could really cause a lot of chaos for my mother with her health. The husband spends most of his time locked in his room.

My half sister is epileptic. They have done tests for years and can’t figure out all her triggers or the whys. They just sometimes stop for a long time then suddenly happen. She’s 16, turning 17 soon. And I don’t even know if she’s going to be, since my mother won’t let me know. And there are large gaps from my sister being on tech due to concerns of what triggered her seizure this time so she’s often removed from electronic devices for a time.

When I had turned 21, my mother and her husband tried to have me sign a paper to become legal guardian of my half siblings, should something happen to them, so the kids didn’t get separated.

At that time, I was still taking care of my fathers mother along with working at a shit job, and had a house full of temporary roommates who I had offered rooms to as a sort of safe house for them. I have a knack for finding people from broken homes, what can I say? With the house my father and I built, we had space, so I used it. I was able to help the girls get out of toxic places, get on their feet, and move on. Not all of them always. But it did generally work out. One has a boyfriend who was growing worse to her on top of getting more and more into hard drugs while also she dealing with an abusive aunt who got worse once her mother died of cancer. So she was stuck with the terrible boyfriend. I had her stay with me as soon as I heard.

Another was complicated, but generally revolved around the alcoholic mother and the many, shady, men in and out of the house. The dangers of that alone were.. problematic without the friend also being suicidal and not taken seriously. I’ve stayed many times with her to just hang out, clean, cook, or even read a book cuz she just wanted to hear someone talking and such. You know? Until eventually I had her move in with me too.

Another’s mothers died of a cancer and dad an alcoholic; not abusive, he just became childlike and super forgetful. To a hurtful degree in his totally dependent state, whenever he was home. Plus their whole little trailer smelled of piss. And her boyfriend (they’re married with kids and happy now) was in jail. He had a bad past but had cleaned up his act quite well, but. Well that’s complicated. We all know that the police don’t squint at details of any issue if the accused has a problematic past.

I had two different girls with trouble at home who were being used by their family to constantly work, clean, and pay for everything.

I had an ex and her girlfriend with problematic homophobic parents who were terrible and semi violent so I had them stay with us so they could be together somewhere safer.

I did not. At all. Have the assured means to also be a parent of ten children with very different needs nor any medical benefits to help out with.

I also knew, that, with how my mothers husband was, if he had some guarantees for his children’s safety, he would likely end his life if he could. He’s been so close so many times. If signed this paper, he would have the last big most important concern that’s kept him from.. I just. I didn’t want him to do it. I selfishly didn’t want to be responsible for my siblings that would take away any bit of time I had for myself away. If anything happened, I would not abandon and forget my siblings. That’s absurd. But my mother implied heavily she wanted to be sure of that. And thus this paper.

I was struggling to find aid for college so I could go to school (never got to, by the way. Minus two classes in total. Aced them both, but it doesn’t matter. Credits in the wind). I was already dealing with my grandmother. The girls I chose to help. My shit job. My fathers temper and his horrible horrible ‘on again off again’ girlfriend. The chaos that alone committed.

I was busy providing a safe space in my home and making sure it stayed that way for the rare times trouble makers made the mistake of stepping up to my door to try and harass my girls.

I often worked 10 days in a row before a day off. Many of those days often had double shifts which were 16 hours. Sometimes I got an hour nap on the double shifts.

I just couldn’t do it.

And now. I remember something that came to mind back then that comes back to mind now. My moms husband adores my grandma. She’s been better to him than his own mother. She’s dying. He’s not taking it well and his mental health has always been pretty low and in the last couple years, already dangerously rock bottom. I’ll admit, same.

His daughter is now in the hospital. My brother is smart but there are some things we can’t really explain for him to get. He understands something is wrong but not sure what and it upsets him. He doesn’t like change and gets super fussy for it. Which can be taxing and hours and days and weeks of it. Grandmas been in the hospital for a couple more or more now. She coded a few days ago but they got her back.

If grandma dies. If something happens to my sister…

God. I don’t see that man sticking around.

And with my mom isolated. A lot of it her doing with her own family but also a good part of it being dumb petty bs of other folks that have no reason to behave like that (a whole drama I don’t have the energy to keep up with..). I just.

I see it as a domino effect of terrible terrible events I don’t want to write.

My mothers side im not very close to. I don’t blame my cousins, we were kids ajd our meetings were brief as they were. But the adults kept their distance with me. No one expected me to survive and decided it was easier to not get attached. To not get involved with me, and by extension, the devil himself, my father. So I never got the chance to know that family. Even when I tried.

So the only family I do have some ties to ajd know, is in a hospital bed, or on my dads side, and they’re dying to. And I get it… that at a certain age in life, many of the people around you start to. It’s just life. Ajd it sucks. And I miss having a best friend. I miss having friends who just seem to like to have me around. Want to have me around.

And I wonder if the friends I thought I made with my roommates were just because I provided something for them. Sure we laughed a lot, we cried over shared traumas, celebrated holidays together so as to not be alone.

But not a one speaks to me now. And hey. That’s also life. But it makes me feel pretty shitty; every where I look in the past, I can’t see any relationship, family, partner, friendship, that ever had me around unless I was providing services they wanted and needed. And I don’t mean the natural give and take.

I’m aware that I’m not the friend folks have around. I’m a fun distraction at best and have been told and reminded as such. I feel like shit cuz my wife’s wonderful and the best person in my life, and yet I still mourn having close friends to hang with. I miss gaming together the most. Or the bullshitting. Sharing food.

I’m not a nice person. I’m working on it. I am. I’ve also, for years, been working on my own personal problems so as to not bring them into even conversations. I don’t know what I am doing wrong but I just.. can’t seem to keep anyone around. And frankly.

I find myself crying about it a lot with no idea what to do.

And. I’m burnt out.

I don’t want to make friends anymore. And yet I still crave it. Which sucks. I can’t stop seeming to want that. And I keep trying. And trying.

I’m trying to accept and be happy with any bit of time I get from the few friends who talk to me. I try to take my chances where I can to hang out (online, as they’re all distance by now), cuz I know it’s a short window and I’ll be lucky to get a next time in the near future.

Online is harder to provide a use, and once the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the friendship winds down, some drop off the map entirely. A few abruptly. And I just. That’s fucked me ho a ton. I can’t even express how many hours I stay sitting. Thinking. Unable to understand what I am not doing or what I am.

It’s a pity party. I know. But it’s fine. I’m still the only one at it and though I’m quite forward even with nerves eating away at me, I still just don’t know how to keep anyone in my life.

It’s taken almost 6 years for me to relax enough to believe my wife will, in fact, stick around.

But at this point in time, I’ve realized, on a note I just keep getting really sad over, that the bits of friendship I’ll get to experience with people, will be brief, snippets, and frankly, only if I am providing something they’re not getting.

I’m essentially the magazine next to the toilet when you have a bad bad stomach bug and your phones dead.

Man’s that’s.. probably my own doing. I know I’m a lot of woe is me in here. And it’s a post talking to me, so I’m indulging in it. I absolutely can’t out loud or in life. I’m working on just.. trying to feel instead of ignoring it. Per my therapists suggestions. So I feel fucking overwhelmed, sad, and alone. Isolated. Heavily.

Ignorance is bliss for real. I wish I wasn’t so aware that I was the friend you go to when all options are down and you’re bored. When you are in a bind and need a safe spot (I don’t mind that one but it does suck that it’s the only time some folks pop back in or up). That if I’m not working then no one even has a small little want to just say hi. I wish I had people who just wanted to say hi because they just.. missed me? I gues?

I wish I knew how to be better as a person and a friend. I thought I was making strides on that. I really had. And yet.

Here I am. Just.

Bitching to the void. Becuase my wife doesn’t need me to add more to her life with her father (finally back from the hospital after surgery) and his health concerned along with everyone else’s and the own sets of ordeals here. I don’t need her to fret over me.

She’s needed distraction and I’ve left her alone for a couple weeks now to her drawing. Probably one of the best things I did do for her was clean up a space for a literal drawing room for her. She’s happier for it. People compliment her art and she rather enjoys the well deserved attention.

I personally would love to have her around more. But I’m having a lot of bad shit days. Weeks at this point. And I’m using my energy to be useful in setting the table or doing the dishes, the cats, playing with the nephew, etc.

All I want to do is sleep.

Frankly. I’m tired of waking up.

But for her. I will.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

You are not alone

This is a one shot with Arthur Morgan. For once, it is not a request but rather more like a therapy piece for myself in order to process some current issues I have. That being said, trigger warning for parental abuse. 

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You lie in bed, not really wanting to face the day. The idea of staying in bed all day and doing nothing is tempting. That familiar ball of nothing sits like a weight on your chest. This void inside you seems as deep and fathomless as the universe itself. It doesn’t feel good. 

You know why you’re feeling this way. How could you not after everything that happened with those people you used to call family? Everything’s blown up so quickly. There was almost no warning to it either. 

You’re also confused. Why are you so hurt to be abandoned by those people who hurt you for so long? Your father, that abusive bastard who never earned the title of “dad”. His words still echo in your head, the words “I want you gone, I don’t want you here”. When he’d screamed those words, it unburied so much hurt you’ve kept locked away for over 15 years. Things you never told anybody about, things you yourself barely remembered until recently. 

Then there’s your mother. Not nearly as abusive, but just as guilty. That pointless conversation she had with you a few days back did nothing but show that she’d seen your father’s abusive tendencies long before you were even born and she did nothing about it. Admitting now that she should have done better back then does nothing to erase the pain. Damn them both. Damn this whole scenario!

Of course, the fight that led to this situation has been overdue by several years. You’ve seen it coming for a long time, you just hadn’t been aware of it happening so quickly, and in such a bad place. You’d been on your vacation with your parents, visiting a lake you’ve loved since childhood. Because of certain situations and acts done by your parents (though you know your hands aren’t clean either), the fight broke out and the result is that you have now been estranged by both your parents. 

The situation is so complex and you don’t know how to feel. Anger, sure. Resentment, of course. Betrayal. You also want your parents to admit that they hurt you during your childhood and you’re damaged because of it, but you also know they won’t. Especially your father. He’s under the impression he was a wonderful dad, despite the fact that most days as a child, you hid for fear of his abuse. How can you hate them so much yet still want them as part of your life? 

There’s a sudden knock on your front door. Who the hell is calling at this time of day? Sure, the sun’s up, but it’s Sunday morning. Why would anyone be at your door? 

With a heavy sigh, you force yourself to get out of bed. You tidy yourself up enough to not look ghastly. Maybe it’s just the Amazon guy dropping off a package (though you don’t remember ordering anything within the last 2 weeks). 

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see your neighbor and good friend (not to mention the guy you’ve been crushing on forever) Arthur Morgan. He smiles when he sees you. 

“Hey, hope I didn’t wake ya.” 

“No, you’re fine,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I’ve been up a while anyways.” 

“Okay. This is gonna sound silly, but would you have two eggs to spare? I, uh, started makin’ myself some breakfast and realized I didn’t have any.” 

“Oh, of course! Here, let me grab them for you.” 

Arthur walks in the house after you. As you go into the kitchen, he looks around. Though your house is usually quite tidy, he can see there’s been a lack of care to it. Dust rests on your shelves, your TV. Your couch shows signs of not having been used in days. There’s also a smell that suggests the house has been empty, but as your neighbor and friend, he knows you’ve been home everyday. He’s been in your house often enough to know that it isn’t usually like this. 

Not only does it not look right, it doesn’t feel right. There’s a heaviness in the air, almost like a shadow sits over the house. He gets the feeling it’s stemming from you. 

Now that he thinks about it, he has barely seen you in the past 3 weeks. Pretty much ever since you came back from your vacation. You’d asked him before leaving to watch your house and feed your cat, which he did. But now that you’re home, he’s hardly seen you. Again, this is strange as the two of you are fairly close. 

Before your vacation, you’d watch movies together every Friday night. When you came back, you didn’t invite him over and when he invited you, he got responses that suggested you had other plans. 

“Here you go,” you say, walking out of the kitchen and holding out two eggs. He reaches for your hand, but then doesn’t let go. 

“Why don’t you come and have breakfast with me?” he says, his eyes soft. “You look like you could use some company.” 

You look up at him. You’ve wanted to see your friend for a while, ever since you came back. However, if your father made anything clear, it was that if he didn’t want you around, then no one did. 

“I… I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You ain’t gonna bother me, Y/N. Never have. Y’know, I been missin’ our Friday movie nights.” 

His comment makes you look away from him. “No, you don’t, Arthur.” 

He squeezes your hand a bit, then he lowers his head so he can look you in the eye. “You okay? You been different ever since you came back from that lake. Somethin’ happen up there?” 

Arthur’s the first person to point out that you’re not how you used to be, and his acknowledgement of that is what finally breaks you. Tears well up in your eyes and you cannot bear to look him in the face, feeling pathetic. 

“To… to be honest, a lot happened. Most of it wasn’t good.” 

A brief silence passes, then he squeezes your hand again. “Come have breakfast, darlin’. Looks like you could use a friend. I’ll cook for ya and you can talk about it.” 

At first, you think he just wants to hear some gossip, but when you look in his eyes, you can see he’s genuinely worried. So you nod and grab a couple more eggs and follow him out and over to his house. 

Arthur’s house is about the same size as yours. He’s more simple than you are, and being raised on a farm out west, he decorates like so. There’s a big painting of a horse over his couch which you’ve always liked. You peak in his office and see the large stag’s head hanging from the wall. 

In the kitchen, Arthur makes you a cup of coffee and then begins breakfast. As you sit at the table, your hands wrapped around the warm mug (which has a beautiful design of an elk), he gets some bacon cooking. 

When a few strips are sizzling away, Arthur sits down across from you. “So… tell me about this vacation of yours.” 

Arthur doesn’t say a word as you begin talking. First you start out with how you had bad feelings right before you went on vacation, but you attributed them to other aspects in your life. 

“It was like a part of me knew something bad was gonna happen,” you say. You’re shivering a little (something you always do when talking about a deeply personal thing). Arthur gently takes your hand in his to comfort you. It does help and you go on. 

You tell him about how things started to build up. Things started off with your mom. When you voiced your problems with her to your father, stating they made you want to leave early, he said if it felt right to you that you should leave, but then he suggested you talk with your mom first and try to resolve things. 

“The problem with that is these issues I’ve had with my mom have been going on for well over ten years. I’ve been nearing the end of my tether for ages.” 

Arthur nods and prompts you to go on. The talk with your mother you thought went well, but not twenty minutes after, she was doing the same things you said were causing the issue. Things escalated from there with not just your mother, but your father going and doing the same things that have been causing all these problems. They were doing a few things that suggested they’d heard you, but when push came to shove, they went no further. 

“On Thursday night, we went to this one place at the lake to try and fish. When I finished there,  I realized that I was just done. I wasn’t angry or resentful, I was just ready to come home.” 

Arthur nods and you notice he squeezes your hand a little. With that, you go on to say how the very next morning, you packed up your things and as you loaded up the car, your mother came bustling over, clearly upset, and accused you of ruining her vacation. She laid on the guilt hard. 

However, your father has always had a habit. When your mother gets upset, your father gets angry and he has an excellent way of making the person who hurt his wife feel like less than shit. He pulled out all the stops for you. Not only did he accuse you of being intolerant and inpatient, but he wouldn’t let you stand up for yourself. When you tried to, he put you down, stating you were an intolerant, selfish little brat and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“What about your mama?” Arthur asks gently. “Surely she didn’t want things goin’ that badly?” 

You roll your watery eyes and look away. “My mom did what she does best. She just stood there and listened to him, not saying a fucking thing. She sat there and watched as my father essentially chased me out of there.”

Arthur lowers his head and sighs. “I’m real sorry, Y/N.” 

“That wasn’t it,” you say and then you go into explaining how your father’s verbal abuse uncovered a bunch of memories from when you were a child. Memories of your father verbally and even physically abusing you. Things you’d forgotten and sat on for over 15 years. They all came bubbling back up as you drove home, sobbing. Along with them came the emotions. The fear, the confusion, the anger and the hatred. 

“So…” Arthur says, dishing the food onto plates and handing you one. “That was, what… two weeks ago? Have either your ma or pa said anything?” 

You sniff a little and shake your head. “Well… my mom did. She came over and we talked for two hours. Honestly the stuff she said made the abuse from my father even worse, because she basically told me she’s known about his abusive tendencies longer than I’ve even been alive for and has let him do them. When I asked her why she didn’t stop him that day I left the lake, she said she was focusing more on what was going on in her head. Honestly I think that was a lie. I think she’s just as scared of my father as I was as a kid.” 

Arthur looks down. “That’s bad business, darlin’. Had no idea your daddy was so awful.” 

“Me too. I guess I worked hard to forget all that bullshit he did to me as a kid.” 

“Guess so. Did your mama try talkin’ ya into forgivin’ him?” 

You shake your head and sniff again. “No. No, she didn’t make excuses for him, but she tried gaslighting me. Said I should focus on the 80% that’s good and focus less on the 20% that’s bad. But when I think about it, there was no good when I was a kid. All he did was get angry at me. We didn’t start to have a civil relationship until I was just graduating college. And I don’t know, but in my opinion going to Yellowstone when I was 23 and having a good time doesn’t count.” 

“It don’t. Your daddy betrayed you when he hurt you all them times. He made a promise to protect you when he became your father and he broke up. Not only that, but your mama betrayed you too when she just stood by and watched him do those things.” 

You start crying again, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Arthur stands up and cleans up the dishes (you didn’t eat very much, but he understands). When he walks back over the table, he comes over to your side and holds out his hand. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you’re probably feelin’ confused and hurt that even though your parents were abusive and did a lot of damage, it must be difficult to have lost them. Come here.” 

When you’re standing, he pulls you into a hug. Arthur’s only hugged you once. He’d gotten drunk during a movie night and had hugged you when he said goodbye. It was then that you’d developed your crush on him.

You press yourself into the hug, his heart thumping in your heart, calm and steady. Your body molds perfectly against his, like a puzzle piece. His arms wind around you, creating a protective barrier as you settle your forehead into the crook of his neck. 

As his heat seeps into you, all the emotions you’ve been mulling over come, only there’s a new one. Support. Arthur is the first person who not only showed any concern, but also showed any interest in wanting to help you. You feel his thumb rubbing circles on your lower back. 

After a few moments, Arthur leans away just a bit so he can look at you. “Y/N, can I tell you somethin’?” You nod and he goes on. “Even though you lost your family, I want ya to know this. I care about ya. Cared about ya a long time. When the two men who raised me passed away and I came out here, I had no one. But you reached out to me, made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I’m gonna do the same thing for you.” 

This makes you smile for the first time in days. “Thank you, Arthur. I couldn’t ask for more.” 

He smiles and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek. As you stare at him, his eyes flicker down to your lips. Is he thinking about you the same way you think about him?

“Arthur?” you whisper. 

He responds by leaning down and gently placing his lips on yours. Your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your chest as you sink into the kiss. His breath washes over your face and his hand moves up your back. After a moment, he pulls away, his cheeks pink. 

“I, uh, hope that was okay,” he says softly. 

You smile a bit. “I would give it a better word than that, Arthur. Thank you.” 

Arthur’s lips stretch into a wide grin and then they’re on yours again. “I’m gonna always be here for ya, darlin’,” he says after another moment. “You ain’t as alone as your parents want ya to think.”