#who's an abusing piece of shite that needs to go missing??

[lokilickedme]

So...last night me and the boys are watching our nightly episode of Dexter and we hit the one with Julian Sands as Hannah McKay’s abusive rich husband who ends up (rightfully) murdered and dumped in the ocean.

Twenty minutes ago I get a pop-up on my computer saying Actor Julian Sands Has Been Missing For Five Days (hiking in California) and I

Shit

I guess...you guys got anyone else you want us to do?

.

[teawaffles]

The Adventures of John: Chapter 4, Part 2

TW // Mention of abuse

Also, a note for language.

Without even an opportunity for Laura to resist, Sherlock pulled his hand out — and revealed a gorgeous necklace. It wasn’t as if John could remember that necklace itself, but from its elegant sparkle, he judged that it’d been one of the items from their flat.

The despair on Laura’s face only deepened. Beside her, the detective spoke.

“This was stolen from my flat. Since the jewellery was in such a mess, you probably thought it wouldn’t look amiss if just one piece went missing — but that was naive of you,” he said. “Because I have a full grasp of everything that was put there.”

When Laura arrived at their flat, Sherlock had made a show of being indifferent to her request, while making sure that she had taken one of the stolen goods.

To have fully comprehended that chaos — John marvelled at the strength of Sherlock’s memory. During the conversation in the flat, he had persisted in looking out the window, away from Laura: that must’ve been to create a deliberate opening, and test if the girl would help herself to the pile.

Laura had stolen a piece of jewellery from their apartment. Moreover, she’d made up the request to find Dolly. Inevitably, from the two points above, it followed that her goal from the start had been to steal the jewellery. Hence, it formed definite proof that she was one of the thieves’ accomplices.

Confronted by that irreversible reality, Laura was stunned. As for the man, his eyes went bloodshot from anger.

“Y-You’ve gotta be kidding me, you good-for-nothing……. I told you to do it without exposing us—”

Hearing that, Sherlock piped up in a cool voice.

“Shall I take that as a confession? Though, there is still the argument that this kid Laura here is just another one of you vagrants, and you guys have nothing to do with the ring of thieves.”

The man spat on the ground.

“Hmph, I’ve no interest flogging that argument anymore. ——Let’s settle this the fast way.”

Saying that, he drew a small revolver from his pocket, and levelled it at Sherlock. Following suit, a few men among the group also whipped out knives and guns. The remaining crowd cried out softly in fear.

“If we dispatch the both of you right here, the truth’ll remain buried, eh?”

At that unsettling line, his armed accomplices also broke into twisted smiles.

But despite being held at gunpoint, Sherlock seemed particularly unmoved. He observed their actions, and narrated his own view.

“From the looks of it, you lot are the ringleaders, while the rest seem to have been threatened into compliance.”

“Yeah: with just a little bit of a beating, they’ll do anything we ask,” the man smirked.

But Sherlock was calm as he replied.

“From that, I gather not all of you are friends. And seeing how you resort to violence to settle things right away: you’re probably a hoodlum accustomed to crime, aren’t ya?”

“Hoodlum? You’re not wrong, but call us a group of clever thieves if you can. After all, I’ve skilfully manipulated these scum and carried out some brilliant thefts.”

Drunk on his own accomplishments, the man threw a glance at Laura. She hadn’t budged from where she stood; protecting her head, she cowered on the ground in sheer terror. From that, one could easily imagine what maltreatment she and the others had suffered at the hands of these thugs.

His heart filled with rage, John glared at the man.

“That means you forced them to commit crimes, didn’t you?”

“Call it making effective use of them, Doctor Watson,” he drawled. “These people all live on a pittance of a daily income. No one would care if they’re gone. I’ve given them a rather fine job until now, but this time, she just had to screw up. ——As I thought, brats are useless after all!”

“……I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He shouted at Laura, and she repeated that apology over and over as she sobbed.

“You……”

“John, you’re right to be angry, but please calm down.”

At the unforgivable sight before him, the detective’s assistant had balled his hands into fists, but Sherlock persuaded him to keep his cool.

“Ah…… Sorry to get back to the topic, but let me give you some clarity on this case.”

“Huh?”

As before, Sherlock’s demeanour lacked any sort of tension, and his opponent frowned. But the detective paid no heed to that as he continued.

“To sum up the story thus far: the bunch of louts brandishing their weapons here are the ringleaders behind the thefts, and the other vagrants and street merchants were forcibly…… ‘used’, if I were to borrow your words?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You could say that they’re all expendables to be exploited as I please. To have so skilfully manipulated them — I bet my abilities rival those of that rumoured ‘Lord of Crime’ or something.”

“……Well.”

At that name, Sherlock’s eye twitched. But he showed no further reaction than that as he replied.

“In other words, to you guys, their names and faces aren’t even worth remembering?”

“That’s an odd way to put it, but exactly. They’re all disposable — do you really think I can remember all of them? ……That said, how long are you gonna keep prattling on like that? I don’t know if you’re just trying to buy time, but it’s time for you to die.”

Running out of patience, the man broke off their conversation, and moved to pull the trigger: fully intending to shoot the detective and his assistant.

However, Sherlock’s smile remained bold as ever.

“——That’s it then. I’ve gotten your word.”

That instant, John couldn’t believe his eyes.

Among the crowd of vagrants, the ones who were shrouded in hoods — separate from the ringleaders — were now aiming guns at the criminals.

“……Huh?”

“——Don’t move.”

One of the mysterious figures commanded sternly, keeping his gun trained on the lead criminal. Stunned by this sudden development, the man complied; and with his other hand, the figure slowly drew back his hood.

“……Inspector Lestrade?”

Out of sheer astonishment, John murmured the person's name.

The man in the hood, was Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Facing the lead criminal, he spoke in a determined voice.

“From the conversation earlier, it’s clear that you have threatened the poor and coerced them into crime. I’ll hear the details at the station. Don’t even think about resisting.”

Then, the other figures removed their hoods and revealed their faces. One after the other, they confiscated the weapons from the stunned hoodlums. Though they weren’t wearing uniforms, from their practised actions, it was clear that they were police officers.

“W-What the devil is going on……?”

Tonight had been a night of many surprises for this detective. John was yet unable to wrap his head around the situation, and once again, he asked himself a question he’d thought about countless times today.

“Everything’s exactly as you’ve witnessed, John. When I identified this place, I contacted Lestrade at the same time, then got the officers to disguise themselves as tramps and hide among the crowd.”

“But why?”

“If I’d just called in the Yard as usual, we wouldn’t have been able to identify the ringleaders among this large a crowd.”

Sherlock stated that conclusion in brief, then began to explain.

“As I thought about the thieves’ actions, I judged that there was probably a mastermind separate from the ones committing the actual crimes, who was controlling them from behind the scenes. Hence, there was a need to identify this mastermind; but even if the Yard were to round up the entire group of vagrants, like what that ruffian told me earlier, they could just say that they had no relation to the ring of thieves — and that would be the end of it. Moreover, it still wasn’t clear who the ringleaders were, and the ring members who were being threatened would’ve likely been warned not to blab. So, in order to smoke out the ringleaders and elicit a confession, I added a bit of an act.”

Then, the detective looked at Lestrade, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“——Well, about the disguises: I’d thought about where the police squad could hide themselves, and decided it would be better for them to mingle with the crowd, so they wouldn’t have to sneak about all weirdly.”

“W-Wha— What a stupid……”

Upon hearing the truth, the man’s earlier triumphant attitude had devolved into a disgraceful, incredulous one. This time, Sherlock laughed out loud.

“Sure, you can make people follow you, but you’ll also have to keep tabs on them properly. In the first place, when this location was discovered, didn’t it occur to you that I would call in the Yard? You can pretend to be a mastermind, but with your lack of foresight, even the Lord of Crime would laugh.”

“S……Shite.”

“Oi, watch what you say from here on. It’ll be used as evidence against you in court.”

Lestrade warned the man as he clapped him in irons; accepting his defeat, he hung his head bitterly. For a villain who’d exploited people in poverty, and boasted of rivalling the Lord of Crime: it was a downright dreadful ending.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“I’ll always be in your debt, Holmes. And the same goes for you, Dr Watson.”

As he watched the arrested criminals being taken away, Lestrade thanked the detective duo.

However, in contrast to the inspector’s earnest attitude, Sherlock put a hand over his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“Lestrade. Sorry for saying this when you’re being so serious, but…… you looked surprisingly good as a tramp.”

“H-Hey! That’s rude, Sherlock!”

“By Jove, Sherlock……”

John chided the detective, and Lestrade let out an astonished sigh.

“……Anyway, I’m grateful for your help in resolving this case.”

“Yeah, let me know when you have another interesting mystery next time.”

After that simple exchange, the inspector left to join the other police officers.

Then, Laura — the central figure from today — and an old woman from among the vagrants walked over to them.

“——U-Um, Dr Watson.”

The girl stood right before John. She bit her lip, and sank into a deep bow.

“I’m so sorry for tricking you!”

Laura blurted that out in a loud voice. Then, the old woman also bowed solemnly.

Met with their sincere apologies, John spoke up in a kind voice.

“It’s alright. You had no choice — all of you were being threatened.”

“B-But…… I……”

“Don’t worry about it. In any case, won’t it be tough for you all from here on?”

With a start, Laura realised what he meant, and dropped her gaze. Though they had been coerced into thievery, it was still a fact that they had broken the law. Hence, in order to furnish the details to the Yard, all of them would be taken in for questioning.

The atmosphere turned slightly gloomy, and Sherlock piped up.

“You don’t have to be so serious about it, y’know. Seeing as all of you had been forced into those crimes, the Yard’ll treat you more leniently.”

“Y-You’re right.”

John knew that Sherlock was deliberately being optimistic, in an effort not to worry them both. Hence, though it was a little awkward, John agreed with him.

Perhaps the matter wasn’t as simple as Sherlock had described, but the events from now on would be out of their hands entirely. Hoping that Lestrade would speak well in their defence, John changed the topic somewhat forcibly.

“……By the way, is this lady a relative of yours?”

Hearing that, Laura brightened up, and introduced the old woman.

“Yes, she’s my grandmother; we’ve been making a living together selling food.”

“Truly, please accept my sincere apologies for what happened.”

Hearing the old woman’s husky voice, John finally understood the awkward exchange he had witnessed between them at the park. Seeing as they were family, it was only natural for Laura to be more relaxed around her; moreover, the old woman’s faltering tone had surely been due to her guilt at deceiving him.

John nodded in understanding. Then, Laura took out a small pouch.

“That and this…… Here’s the full amount we’ve taken from you, Dr Watson. Please accept it.”

“Ah, I see. I’d forgotten all about the money. Thank you.”

John was about to reach for the pouch, when all of a sudden, a thought struck him — and he stopped.

“……Um, is something the matter?”

Seeing him freeze up, Laura tilted her head. Then, John withdrew his hand, and instead held up the bag full of items he’d bought from the street merchants.

“‘Taken’? What’re you saying? I bought these of my own accord. I can’t see any issues with them, so I’ve no intention of getting a refund.”

“……Eh?”

“Isn’t that right? I negotiated properly with the merchants in the parks, and bought these items as a customer. There was no trickery at all.”

John asserted that proudly, and beside him, he heard Sherlock chuckle.

Of course, what John said was by no means a show of bravado that he hadn’t been tricked. Laura had been moved by his kindness throughout the day; in an instant, she sensed the emotions imbued in his words. But even so, she knitted her brows, looking troubled.

“Still, I really should return this to you.”

She then offered him the pouch again, but John gently pushed it away.

“Laura, in all honesty, the walnuts your grandmother sold me were delicious. For products that good, it’s only right that I pay a fair price for them.”

His smile was full of warmth as he continued.

“If I happen to see your stall again, I’ll be sure to buy from you.”

“Dr Watson……”

This time, Laura did not press the matter.

She held the pouch as if it were a treasure, and her face brimmed with smiles.

“——Alright. When we see each other again, I’ll be sure to prepare lots of walnuts for you.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.”

Then, John bade goodbye to Laura and her grandmother; and with his “loot” in hand, he left the scene with Sherlock.

[badwolfrunning]

Family & Bonds AU Headcanons

I an dabbling in a couple of AU’s currently. Primarily what I have posted is a Family and Bonds AU titled....Family Bonds. (original. v crafty. wow.) Anyway, lengthy post under the cut.

I shifted the family tree from Bonds in order to accommodate the incredible characters designed by middlewarnersibling in Family to be the Warner trio's parents, and I love that story line for them. 

In Bonds, it seemed odd that Bosko would some how not notice his lover's aging or just how she managed to keep all three kids a secret, but I figured, one was totally possible and that one child was Slakko, their father from Family. So it goes like this:

Oswald and Ortensia have a daughter named Odelia. 

Odelia has an affair with Bosko Warner

Culminating in middlewarnersibling’s character Slakko Warner. Odelia still never tells Bosko and before the baby arrives, Bosko’s bleeding heart brother, Kokko offers to marry Odelia so the baby at least appears “legit.” 

So Kokko becomes the Warner trio’s legal grandfather.

According to Family, Slakko meets Ophelia, a cat toon who sings and dances. They hook up and reluctantly wind up in a shotgun marriage and eventually all three kids are born.

Yakko is approx 5-6 years older than Dot and 3 years older than Wakko, putting him solidly in the middle. 

Their birthdays are all in different seasons; I have decided Dot is mid-late June, Wakko is early October and Yakko is January, so their age gap gets all wonky at certain times of the year.

Babs and Buster were actually about 14/15 respectively at the launch of Tiny Toon Adventures which makes them both a couple years Yakko's senior. 

I also think it makes for an excellent joke about Yakko always gunning for older women.  

(For future reference, yes this makes Buster a solid 7 years older than Dot.) 

The rest of the primary Tiny Toons crew is pretty much on par with the exception of Hampton and Dizzy who I headcanon as younger by about a yearish. 

(Why yes, Yakko and Dot both have deep seated parental trauma, why do you ask? Wakko does too but it uh....comes out in a different way.)

I headcanon an interesting arch for Slakko which involves something of redemption? In Bonds while Bosko is on the hunt for the Warners he finds this other Warner and decides to see if he has any information. Slakko is living alone in a bit of a shite apartment and mostly keeps to himself and has been ok at staying out of bigger trouble. So when Bosko and his boys arrive at his door he's suspicious and ready to make it a fight if he has to. But there isn't much of a fight; Bosko demands to know where the trio is, Slakko honestly has no idea but Bosko doesn't believe him. The weasels and whomever else Bosko brought as his cronies beat the shit out of him but he holds true to his story.

So Bosko finally believes him. More or less. He doesn't want to have to come back here so he decides to make sure that Slakko can't ever 'see' his children again and has whomever's with him hold him down and burn his eyes with dip. So Slakko's left blinded, injured and probably should be dead but he's not.

Yakko remembers that his folks hardly ever reported an injury or used a hospital unless they absolutely had to. So, close to the end of the show Yakko finds out his father actually used medical services and decides to figure out how to get himself listed as an emergency contact. Not that he intended to ever come to assist but more so that he can make sure to be notified of anything particularly fatal. In Family, he lamented that he never got to say goodbye to their mother and as much as he disagrees with him, Yakko never wants to miss that chance again. So, post Bonds, he ends up finding out about Slakko's sudden blindness and discreetly, not to the knowledge of Slakko or his sibs, decides to help out. Just this once, is Yakko's reasoning.

Um....some cute things I headcanon....

I kept Wakko's diabetes....not cute but like, it's more light hearted than that other stuff tbh

Also not 100% cute: Babs continues to go to therapy to address things like depression and PTSD but it takes some....convincing for Yakko to see someone again. Especially after being made to on the lot. But after a particularly bad night he agrees to give it a shot. 

Basically, they coax each other through episodes and have learned to spot when they're each using coping mechanisms in harmful ways and call each other out on it. They make a fantastic team.

They also don’t totally shy away from the conversations with their daughters. They introduce what’s appropriate and with their age gap that can be tricky.

They both also have a very....interesting time being parents early on. Babs is waiting to see if she'll feel what her mother must have felt that made her leave them in a huff and Yakko's struggling to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing wrong with him, his father just never wanted them. Basically they're looking for when another shoe will drop but it won't because they don't just love their kid, they wanted them. 

They got to make a choice their parents didn't.

I do have fankids for Babs and Yakko, both girls, both named after powerful women in art and history. Lucille Ophelia and Jacqueline Madeline. (If any of you know the Madeline namesake I will be impressed AF)

Lucille very strictly goes by Lu, call her Lucy and you die (unless you're Wakko. This kid plays favorites and he is it.) and she is a handful of a teenager. Sharp tongued and sharp witted.

Jackqueline, or Jackie, is 5 years younger and is so naive and sweet it hurts and she is Daddy's Girl capital D. Yes, at first they figured she was just masterful at the cuteness game like Dot was but as it turns out, she's got that Wakko style innocence.

Babs jokes that she's clearly actually Wakko's kid. (There is absolutely no possible way for that to be true. Which is why it's funny instead of suspicious.)

They have both watched Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures and just to piss off her dad, Lu says Tiny Toons is her favorite.

Skippy, like Dot, had a dance focus and so, in a few years' time, she's gonna run into him on the set of a music video. That'll be fun!

Babs and Yakko have pissed of more than one director for going off on what appear to be essentially joke tangents but it's actually the two of them attempting to out do each other until there's a clear winner. They are both spotlight hogging, competitive lil shits.

It's Babs' idea for Wakko to try fronting the band he's in and his bandmate get stupidly jealous and steals his girl....oops.

Dot is stupidly beautiful and very much lovable (wow. shocking.) And some poor poor blue bunny is gonna fall face first into a sitcom level affair....and since he can't tell either of his best bros about it he ends up drunkenly calling Babs who just laughs her ass off the whole time.

Yakko can play chess in his head. Like...he doesn't need the board. He can just keep track of the pieces. (Honestly, having to be so damn smart is a complex brought on the physical and verbal abuse from his father.)

Wakko....honestly, as smart as he can be and as righteous as he is, he has that Warner independence streak something bad after touring. He tries a bit much and ends up starting a fight with someone and long story short, he's caught with that twink stuff from Family (unfortunate name tbh basically, think crack.) 

Yakko is obviously beside himself and Dot is more or less oblivious as she's at university at this point. Basically, shit hits the fan and the brothers split. 

Dot tries to keep in touch with Wakko but he severs the connection from both his sibs.

Wakko does get clean. He also falls in love with a remarkable human toon named Jesse.

He’s also still friends with Foghorn, who is actually a pretty great support in all of this.

I headcanon Wakko as demi homosexual.

Much to her own surprise, Babs LOVES being a mom. 

Yakko struggles with partnership. A lot of what goes into being a parent are things he’s already experienced and he has a hard time NOT being a know it all and actually partnering with his wife....it’s a fun dynamic.

Yakko also still has a crush on Max Goof that he SWORE he was over but after seeing him at random very much IS NOT.

It's not just Wakko making horrible choices btw. Sorry this was meant to be the cute stuff....uh....

Both Yakko and Wakko walk with their sister at her wedding (told you things will circle back!)

[maximumninjavoid]

Mining for Unobtanium 33

Ah, the angst. Oh, here it comes. There’ll probably  be some more smut. But for now? ANGST. Angsty angst. Ninety three followers. Slowly creeping towards 100. Never thought I would see the day. Honestly.

WARNING. Angsty as f*ck. 18 and over, Adult themes. Teh Secks.

I found a job in Thailand, and was negotiating a start date for right around the time he went back to filming. I just hadn't figured out how to actually make my exit. I did what came naturally to me in difficult times. I got out the heavy weight paper, and the good pens and started to write. " Look, love, I've got to go. Its for the best, really. No woman worth you will start dating you with me lurking around, peeking out from behind potted palms. And I KNOW you want a family. A traditional one. Like everyone else in your family. You are perfect husband material, and you're going to be the most doting dad that ever there was. I hope you have a daughter. She will wrap you around her finger like taffy. And enough boys for rugby, of course. You know I still want to be a part of your life, I just know that it may not be possible. I promise you will always know where to find me, and if you really need me, I will always have your six. Text me the phrase we agreed upon, and I will drop everything and be right at your side, as fast as I possibly can. Whenever, wherever. That's my word bond to you. While I draw breath, I am yours. But, Hen, you must understand I love you far too much to keep you from your dreams, or worse, to have you wake one day and see those beautiful eyes tinted with regret or resentment. I couldn't bear it. Find a woman who loves you for you. If you retired, and built ships in boats ( and how DO they do that, anyway?) She should love you just as much as if you were fifty feet tall in Times Square. Make sure she's self entertaining. If you get lost on a quest, she needs to be able to find her own things to do, that she loves, and you'd best encourage those things. Share her passions like I know she will want to share yours. Don't fall for that stalker shite, sugar. I know, I'm going to tease you about that till the Fourteenth of forever. That's funny. Never let your PR people pick your dates. Somebody who's rude to staff or servers or underlings NEVER EVER gets a second date. If KAL doesn't like her, run away, FAST. Find a woman who makes you laugh. And who loves sex and intimacy as much as you do, and make sure she understands that those are two separate things. There will come a time when sex will not be as spontaneous, when you've got to work at making time to be a couple, and not mummy and daddy. Never take each other for granted. Appreciation and honest kind words go so far. Harsh words cause the deepest wounds, tear open the oldest scars. Be gentle with each other. If you can, make her part of your team, and you of hers. Support her work enthusiastically. If you're not worlds away, show up for her things, and the kids things. Nothing is as adorable as the performances of small children, and before you know it, they won't want to spend any time with you..Always foster her independence. It gives her room to grow and she will never run out of ways to contribute. If you give her more than three babies in four years, GET THE WOMAN SOME HELP. And for everyone's sake a nice OLD lady, older than I am. There is no win in the mixture of post partum depression, struggling to get your figure back and some chippie in your house falling all over your husband and "stealing your children".  And that woman who comes to help? Her NDA better be tighter than a camel's ass in a sandstorm. I'm trying so hard to not forget anything. I know you and I know once you read this you're going to be quite cross with me and I won't hear from you for a while. You'll be licking your wounds, as will I.” I stepped out to smoke, it didn't help. This was going to be ugly crying. I blew my nose, splashed cold water on my face, and soldiered on. I picked up the pen, not even enjoying the feel of a good pen in my hand, unappreciative of its heft and balance, giving no fucks about the way it glided across the page. I might as well be writing in my own blood. “Cross with me. My talent for understatement, I suppose. You'll be furious. And I'm sorry. I know, its insulting and insufficient. But I am sorry. And you know I would use the fragments of my broken heart to mend yours, but I am not wizard enough to make this what it can never be. I meant what I said. If you need me, I will be there.  Be honest with her, about what part I play in your well being.... That at some point you may need to surrender your control. That even Daddies need Daddies. And for both your comfort and your honor,  I can promise not to annihilate your marriage vows while providing that for you. You CAN do what it is we do with out sex. It just isn’t as fun. I don't think now that you've opened Pandora's box that it will close easily. I believe the things you've found there resonate too deeply for you to just dismiss them. It is why you came looking in the first place, because you knew that those pieces were missing, there were voids to be filled. But remember, you can’t play these reindeer games with everyone. This can’t get out, can’t be public, so be careful.  I know your heart, I have the measure of you. I have no concerns that you'll be callous or unnecessarily cruel. You'll find that edge and ride it like some fucking prize stallion in a steeplechase, but you won't ever be abusive and there will always be love and passion behind what you do, its who you are. Thank you my dearest, for allowing me the opportunity to pass on my skills, and my knowledge. The people that taught me would be so pleased to meet you, to see your heart, your passion, your skill. Bless you for letting me tell you my stories. I know now that they will not disappear. You will never know how much of a gift that was for me, and I can never repay you. All my love in this life and the next..... And I signed it. I folded it and put it in the envelope, and started gathering my things. Time was running out. I sent a box or two back to the States, made arrangements for someone to look after my house, and researched flights. I could be in Bangkok in less than three days, and with a negative Covid test, no quarantine. Going back to work would get me out of my own head, and I knew, if I stayed there, in my head;  very bad things were in store for me. They had sent my visas, my work documentation, they emailed my offer letter, and had sent an open ended return ticket. Most of what I needed I could obtain when I got there, and the idea of having a custom tailored wardrobe was very appealing. Plus,  its a rainforest jungle. Shorts and t shirts, wraps, sandals, not much more than that, really. Maybe a swimsuit or two. With my vacation days I could see all the places on my bucket list and or do medical tourism. Its funny, to be gone for this long and have it not be that big of a deal, in a pandemic. No one was even looking for me. Now I needed to start working on the Long Goodbye. When he came home that evening I had dinner waiting.  Kal's dinner too. I wasn't fucking around. Soft lights, candles, that red wine he liked, I wasn't going to miss a trick. I was all put together, everything shaved, lotioned, make up that looked like I hadn't any make up. I mean, I can't do fresh faced anymore. During dinner we talked and I worked so hard not to lose it completely. I smiled and laughed in the appropriate places, held up my end of the conversation. At the conclusion of the meal I started to tidy up and he followed me into the kitchen. Music was playing and I was humming as I did the dishes. I didn't realize he was leaning against the doorway, watching me. He crossed the space in just a few steps, one arm at my waist and spun me around to face him. I squeaked, startled. He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss, took my hand and danced around the kitchen with me ...... Henry singing  in my ear "Ooooh, I been missing you And the way you make me feel inside What can I do? I can tell you’ve got your pride now, baby Come to me (oh well, oh well) Let me ease your mind (oh babe) I’ve got the remedy, yes I do Now give me just a little time (Here in my mind, Girl, I wanna shake you down) I wanna rock you down (I can give you all the lovin you need) I’m gonna love you (Come on let me take you down) Oh well or well (We’ll go all the way to heaven)* Gregory Abbott “ Shake You Down” I was pulled up tight against him, one of his legs in between mine as we slow danced,  my head on his shoulder, I was practically purring. Back in the day we called that cock dragging. He led magnificently, I didn't think about how clumsy I usually was or where my feet were going, he just guided me around the kitchen singing to me, dancing. I looked up at him, lost in those deep soulful eyes....

" You were three when this song came out" I laughed. " I have several older brothers and the music you love brings back great memories. " As the song ended he dipped me, practically to the floor, and I didn't panic. His strong arms had me I was secure and knew I wouldn't fall. Well, not from being dipped.He ran his tongue up my sternum, between my breasts, up my neck to finally claim my mouth.

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[ks-caster]

The 100 Season 7 Episode 4 - Post-Liveblog Recap

Okay, so I liveblogged an episode for the first time - and it turned out to be a nice way to stay focused through the commercial breaks. Might continue to do that for the rest of the season.

But TBH I started doing it just so I could bitch about the CLEAR AND BLATANT LACK OF A SCENE WHERE SANCTUM!KRU REALIZE THAT BELLAMY AND ANOMOLY!KRU ARE MISSING. That was an important scene that the whole fandom, more or less, has been waiting for the entire time for various reasons. 

How do the characters react? Who figures out that something’s wrong first? Does Clarke sense Bellamy’s absence because they have a bond? Does Emori go looking for her space sister to comfort her other space sister only to find her missing? 

(Actually, she does. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. Might fic later. Accounts for Emori’s complete absence while her bestie Raven is falling apart.)

Edit: here's the fic!

Anyway, back to the episode - whoever was in charge of editing really really dropped the ball. Missing realization scene, poorly ordered Raven and Clarke scenes. The music during the Dev-and-Hope montage was a nice touch but just too loud enough that I really had trouble telling what they were saying - and the pacing would have felt better with just one show of teenage!Hope before we got 20-year-old her. The cut from Orlando agreeing to train Anomaly!Kru to 5 years later was WAY too abrupt for me to get a feel for the character and relationship development that they were trying to shoehorn in in order to create conflict at the end. I got where they were going with everything, but in a I’m-reading-a-newbie-writer’s-fanfic-because-I-love-the-story-concept-and-want-to-support-them kind of way and not in a I’m-watching-a-show-made-by-experienced-professionals-and-paying-for-the-privilege-in-ad-revenue kind of way. Disappointing.

Jumping around here for a bit: I gotta say I’m loving the makeovers this season! Hair and makeup did a great job on bringing back the old Raven without losing the maturity they gave her, giving Murphy and Emori their Gucci Royalty Vibes without losing the feel of their individual styles, and making Hope look like she can’t find quite the balance between feral forest girl and innocent shut-in who can’t bear to take a life (which is accurate to her character, of course). 

And Echo! So I really, really didn’t like her makeovers in seasons 5 and especially 6, because it felt like they were trying too hard to make her look pretty in a 21st Century kind of way. She looked softer, more vulnerable, which really contradicted her character traits - but I thought that might’ve been on purpose, to show a change in her (that she did indeed allow herself to become softer and more vulnerable for her family). And her post-time-skip (not that one. Or that one. The other one. There’s a lot of those. Bah.) look feels like a return to herself; she’s beautiful but in a no-nonsense, don’t-forget-I-can-cut-your-throat kind of way. (Is this because I just really love the butch look on woman and am myself a butch woman? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.)

Side note: Where the hell did they get clippers on Penance? Those haircuts were entirely too even to have been done with scissors. I’ll buy that Gabriel and Orlando shaved their heads and their perfect round cuts were growout, but Hope and Echo? Electric clippers. Like I said I like the looks, but guys, there’s no way.

I liked that I got a better feel for Hope’s character this episode - she’s trying so hard to be like her mom and Aunty O and all the heroes they told her about when she was a child, but the truth is she’s been in one real battle, she froze, and her best and only friend died. And since her only role models were these incredibly strong people who didn’t give up, back down, hesitate, that wouldn’t be an easy thing for her to get over. (Given that Diyoza was pregnant with her for two entire seasons, I’d really like to have more time developing Hope’s character - or even the same amount of screen time but go easier on the timeskips, lol. She keeps having growth/maturity/life experience spurts so it’s hard to keep up with the development that we’re shown.

So, 5 (7? Wasn’t she 22? There’s still 2 years we missed right?) years after watching her friend die, and 5 (7?) years of blaming herself for freezing, she’s put into the same position, and she stabs some lady in the neck. Kid didn’t steal her coping mechanisms! All joking aside thought, the kid basically relived her trauma in real life - honestly her reaction was 100% valid.

I’m sure I’m supposed to be upset by Echo’s choice to kill the remaining gold-head people. But I think the only reason that’s supposed to bother me is that she promised (ish - she was real explicitly clear that she’d do what was necessary to rescue Bellamy and them were the breaks) Orlando that she wouldn’t. I think I’m supposed to care about the fractured relationship between AnomalyKru and Orlando.

I don’t. I don’t know if it’s the super-fast timeskip (it was weird enough to see the changed dynamics in SpaceKru when I deeply knew all of the characters AND we got time to see the changes play out) or the fact that I didn’t really get to know Orlando in a way that made me super sympathetic to him (I’ll get to that in a minute) or if it’s just that he was smart enough to know he was being played from the start (see Navy SEAL mom didn’t teach you how to swim and Echo again being 100% clear that killing people might still happen) and walked right in anyway. Either way, his betrayal wasn’t enough of a motivator for me as an audience member to be bothered about how things ended between him and AnomalyKru. I kind of shrugged and moved on.

More on Orlando... So The 100 has had several plotlines that center around people doing dangerous, terrible and downright ridiculous things because of their religions; see the kidnapping and conclave of freaking children killing each other to become commander, Gaia’s whole character arc + starting a new religion around Octavia/WonKru betraying that religion to go back to their old one centering on Madi, WHO IS GODDAMN TWELVE, all of Sanctum and season 6, the Sanctum conflict here in season 7, and now this goddamn Bardo Disciple shite.

Now I’m not dishing on real life religion or religious people - I happen to have one of those myself - but the plot of some-people-take-their-religion-way-too-far-drink-the-koolaid-and-hurt-people-around-them has been done and done and done on this show. And now here we have Orlando, who was a high-ranking member of his religion, drank the koolaid, cast out, still a true believer and therefore dangerous because his perspective is fundamentally skewed. I don’t know anything about this religion but that it’s militarized (they can arrest people) and think that sentencing people to 10 years of madness-inducing Geneva Convention violations and then bringing them back to their families two days later is okay. I don’t really want to know anything else, because I’m worried that the show is going to work hard on making this religion scarier than the Sanctum one (needing to one-up themselves with the big bad, of course) which just keeps making the commander religion look humane in comparison. 

Which it wasn’t. But I digress.

So Orlando was kinda’ cool, but getting in too deep with a fundamentalist who was complicit in his own abuse by said religion (and so who knows what he thought was okay to do to other people) and then it ended badly.

Cue shocked Pikachu.

Moving on. Clarke. Baby. After the harrowing experience of the radiation destroying the radio so you couldn’t say goodbye to your mom when you were supposed to go to space, then missing your time window and getting left behind on Earth, and the radio broke them too so you couldn’t even be sure your friends would leave in time until they blasted off, and then calling Bellamy every day when you knew he couldn’t hear you, and ALL OF THE FREAKING LAST SEASON WHERE YOU WERE POSSESSED AND WOULD HAVE GIVEN ANYTHING TO LET YOUR FRIENDS AND DAUGHTER KNOW BOTH THAT THAT WASN’T YOU AND THEN LATER THAT YOU WERE ALIVE and THEN your MOTHER getting possessed and you had to check to see if it was really her and it WASN’T. Clarke. 

After all that terrifying inability to communicate.

You leave Gaia behind to warn everyone of the danger. INSTEAD OF CALLING THEM ON A PIECE OF HANDY TECHNOLOGY OR TAKING A QUICK TRIP BACK YOURSELF. TO TELL YOUR DAUGHTER WHERE YOU WERE GOING. YOU DON’T THINK THAT MAYBE MAKING EXTRA SURE THAT EVERYTHING GETS COMMUNICATED CLEARLY AND IMMEDIATELY MIGHT BE A PRIORITY.

And then Gaia gets kidnapped. Honestly, cool! Not ‘cause I’m rooting for Gaia to be hurt (I don’t care all that much about her tbh) but I LOVE Indra and I want her to have more screen time and development this season - and or the chance to cut people up with her sword - and kidnapping her daughter seems like a great way to facilitate that.

*Looks at list* Oh, right, Jordan. I forgot you were here. Honestly I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on with you, and since I’ve had a whole season of not connecting with you because the story was too busy focusing on external plot... I don’t see that changing any time soon buddy. Sorry.

Oh and that FrEaKiNg PrOmO! 

My garbage boy! My chaos gremlin! My excellent-at-impersonating-a-deity-even-if-it-goes-against-his-programming! What are they doing?! 

I’m torn between NO DON’T HURT HIM and YES HURT HIM BECAUSE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BRAVERY BWAHAHAHA. At least I know there’ll be Murphy and hopefully Memori content in the next episode. That’s the good shit. It’s the only thing left about this show that still feels “pure,” not that I didn’t know what sort of darkness I was signing up for when I started but just because he and Emori are sort of the last light in the darkness, and it’s nice to get a break periodically.

[thevoilinauttheory]

Behind Smiles

[ For this week’s MAHI prompt! Words used: Meal, Sweater

Content Warnings: Familial abuse, physical abuse. Under cut, because of both the sensitive topic and how long it is. ]

“Honorie.” “Yes, Father.” Her attention was anywhere but near her father’s eyes, instead turned out the window at the blizzard which raged outside. She didn’t mind the snow, she had gotten used to it, but blizzards meant that there was no escape from the scrutiny of her father. “Pay attention when I speak to you.” “I am, go on.” Adrien let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to find a tutor for Tatienne, she needs to learn *properly*.” “Is learning from her cousin not proper enough, Father? Or do you mean to say that your grudge against your father would keep you from understanding the importance of the school she’s attending? You would pay more for someone who cannot keep her attention?” A scowl came to his face, the narrowing of his eyes missed by her. “If she is to live in this house, then she is to get a noble’s education - not whatever poorly bundled together “school” your cousin runs.” “Then you will agree to allowing her to learn swordfighting. Find her a tutor, and I will find her a noble’s educator.” Her own glare was returned to him. The front door slammed shut. “Mom! I’m back!” Honorie’s face relaxed enough for her to greet her daughter at the door. “Welcome back, honey - what did you learn about today?” She conversed with Tatienne, a refreshing breath compared to her father. “I hope it was another good day!” “It was! We learned about history today! Kinda boring, but Lothaire makes it fun.” “Does he now? Let’s talk about it over dinner, yeah?” “Okay!” Tatienne kicked off her boots, socks soaked with snow, shuffled off her coat, and padded herself to her room to change. “Honorie.” At the sound of her name, she let out an annoyed sigh. “What.” “Another suitor has offered to join us for d--” “Send him back. I am not interested.” “If you are to live in a proper home such as ours, you are going to marry into a proper family. You cannot expect to live here forever.” “Oh, like hells I’m expecting that. I’m only here to take care of Mother while she’s on her death bed - maybe you should be more worried about *her* and not *me*. Once she’s gone, I’ll get out of your hair. Maybe go back to adventuring.” “And end up like that fool of a “husband” you had? If he had never--” “You’ve no right to talk about him like that, and don’t you *dare* utter another word about him in bad light. He was a good man, and just because he was no noble nor rich man you would degrade him and turn your eyes away from all the good he’s put into this world. Ungrateful is what you are.” She turned away from him, striding confidently back to her own room to get cleaned up for their meal. And when mealtime came, much to her dismay, another man was waiting beside her father. Another suitor. Another dreary dinner. Her pleasant expression dropped for a split second to reveal her disdain. Though she cleared her throat and smiled a bit more for the stranger.

“A pleasure to meet you, ser. I apologize for my father’s… intrusion upon your schedule.” She offered a short curtsy. She was polite, and just about every aspect one could want from a noble woman… on the outside. Even her laugh was hidden behind her fingertips. “Not at all, my lady. Full glad am I to be here, and to meet you.” He offered a bow in return, though by the time he had lifted to greet her eyes… she was already walking away towards the dining room. “Mom! Moooom!” Tatienne rushed down the stairs, not heeding the man in front of her, where the slip-slide of her socks on the floorboards crashed her into his chest. She looked up at him and tilted her head, before it occurred to her to bow. “Sorry!” But that was it, she ran off to the dining room. “Mom, I can’t find my sweater… have you seen it?” “Oh, honey.. I thought that it was in your closet.” “I did too.” Tatienne frowned heavily, her mood severely ruined by the loss of her favorite piece of clothing. She threw herself into her chair, laying her head down on the table. “Tatienne. Arms off of the table.” Adrien sat himself down across from them, with the stranger beside him. She slid her arms slowly off the table until it was just her chin on the edge of it. Honorie rubbed her daughter’s back, scooting her chair closer to her. “Come on, sweetling, remember your manners.” She patted her head, then leaned over to whisper to her. “If you can be good tonight, just until this man leaves, I’ll sneak some extra dessert for us~.” She smiled and sat back up to address the man.

She paid absolutely no attention to his words, nor conversation, nor even his name. She didn’t care. This man did not speak out to her as someone she would even consider courting. She asked a few questions of her own, but it was her daughter that carried it on. Her questions made the man palpably uncomfortable.

“Do you know how to use a sword?” “Ah, no… I use a lance.” “Oh…” The tone in Tatienne’s voice said that was boring to her. “Do you go on adventures a lot? Mom likes to go out to the Forelands or the Sea if we get time to! Then I get to learn about all the cool stuff there!” “Is that… not dangerous for a young child to do?” He turned his eyes to Honorie, concerned. “Her father was an adventurer, and we’ve seen far more danger than what lives around us.” She smiled softly, a slight annoyance hidden behind it. “If you were to successfully court me, you would have to provide enough energy, time, and enrichment for Tatienne as well. If you don’t think you're capable of doing so, then it would probably be best that you don’t push on.” “I see. W-Well, I’m certain that it wouldn’t be too hard to provide those--” “Then you do not know my daughter very well. She’s chased off not one, nor two, nor even three - but the last five suitors before you. Do not think yourself any different. You are predictable, and by your stance, I’d say that my father neglected to let you know that I had a child to begin with.” “Honorie, that is enough.” Adrien’s scowl was met by his daughter’s own. “Perhaps you shouldn’t omit truths, *Father*. Perhaps you’d find the right man ere long, though if you retrieved that stick from your arse, maybe you would realize that I would find the right one *myself*.” All her politeness had been thrown out the window, before their meals had even arrived; and the awkwardness of the poor man across from her became unbearable for him. “I, ah… apologize for the intrusion, then. I had not known you were adamant on this topic.” “Do not worry of it, ser. I apologize that you had to witness such a thing, and that you were brought here on false promises. I have no doubts that you are a kind man, it is simply that you are not what I am looking for.” “I admire your sense, my lady. Perhaps it is best for me to take my leave, then. May we meet again in the future under better terms.” He stood from his chair and bid them a farewell with a bow, then helped himself out of their manor.

“At least this man was far kinder than the last, hm? Still haven’t learned your lesson?” Honorie turned back to her father. “And you wouldn’t have anything to do with Tatienne’s missing sweater, would you?” “That ratty trash deserved to be burned.” The comment had his granddaughter’s expression drop instantly, tears welling up in her eyes. “...It was the only thing I had left of Dad’s…” “I know, honey, I know.. let’s.. head back upstairs for now, okay? I’ll bring your dinner up.” Tatienne was bawling and screaming by the time she made it up the stairs to her room, and Honorie’s gaze towards her father was one filled with hatred. “You are well on your way to being treated like your father. In fact, I’d say the man you condemned as heartless is far, *far* kinder than you are. That you would do such a thing to her. Why do I stay here, the sooner Mother dies, the sooner you will feel the cold hands of loneliness - a revenge well worth seeing.” “Do not speak to your fath--” “I will do as I please! You are the one who asked for *my* help - if you don’t need me that badly, then take care of your wife on your own time!” She stood and slammed her hands on the table, an action which was immediately followed by Adrien’s own standing and a hard slap across her face. She had been used to it by now, her words bought violence in return. “Maybe if your father was given the chance to raise you, you wouldn’t have turned out to be the shite person you are today.” She turned on her heels and stormed upstairs, her own tears being held back for her daughter’s sake. 

[xmenwickedgame]

The Boiling Point

(drabble)

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse below

If one were looking for Charles Xavier they would find him in his room, combing over the things in his dresser. Tempers were high at the Xavier school tonight and patience especially thin. Charles himself gave in more than once before he’d finally excused himself.

A headache was building behind his eyes and he stopped what he was doing to massage his temples. Every night seemed to dusk the bubbling tension between himself and his family up a few more notches. It was all rather unnecessary, laughable even if he’d been anyone other than himself. Alas, Charles Xavier he was and with him came a staggering mountain of baggage. One open-faced encounter sent most running for the bloody hills—or at least a safe distance away. His family however had come right back and with them brought a series of solutions that essentially hog-tied him for the better part of a decade. He couldn’t be fixed, they decided and so stepped around the broken pieces, ensuring they wouldn’t cut anyone else.

Only one man saw him in a different light and it was that man Charles thought of now, particularly a conversation with him not too long ago. He’d come to Erik that day with a bruised arm and a broken heart, seeking comfort after having forcefully been injected with the very treatment he’d been trying to ween himself off (he didn’t need to suppress his powers Professor X wasn’t the monster everyone believes him to be...)

That day Erik suggested they walk away, start a life together apart from this place and the people in it. He hadn’t been able to make a decision at the time but with every day passed and each new conflict Charles found himself leaning further and further towards a breaking point.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts: Charles stilled but he didn’t look up. There was only one person he wanted to see in the doorway and that man harbored such affection for him even Charles’ stunted powers felt him coming. Only radio silence reverberated from the door now. Silence and the ever-present tension.

“Dad?” Came the careful voice of Charles’ adult son. Charles swallowed a sigh; his eyes opened but otherwise didn’t move.

“What do you what?” He murmured.

“I want to talk to you,” James answered. “You got a sec?”

He sounded tired, Charles notes. Tired and worried. Charles heard the door close, followed by encroaching footsteps. Surprise surprise, James expected a free schedule. Invisible fingers squeezed Charles’ heart; finally he turned around.

“Actually I’m b-busy right now,” Charles said and he cringed internally over how easily the stammer came out. It wasn’t so quick to escape around Erik.

“Oh yeah?” James questioned but that was all he said. For fleeting futile second Charles thought he might get away with continued solitude...until he felt the delicate brush of his son’s mind against his own. Charles stiffened.

“S-stop that,” he said, finally turning around. James Xavier stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow pinched over observing yellow eyes. He held up his hands when Charles snapped at him, withdrawing from his mind.

“Sorry,” Charles said, sighed really. Guilt prickled his heart: there was a time he’d have reacted very similarly to that sort of response to his powers. However, Charles could no longer use his powers easily and being probed by a functioning telepath felt...somewhat unfair. Unfair and invasive, he thought, watching the younger man carefully.

The urge to look away crept up on him--look away as he often did when uncomfortable—but he managed to ignore it. He kept his thoughts sparse however as James possessed a decent telepathic range: even without probing he might be able to detect Charles’ state of mind. That would do no one any good.

If James Xavier was at all tuned into his father he didn’t say. He shrugged, a more casual gesture but his eyes never left Charles’ face.

“It’s all good,” James told him. He stepped away from the door, fully entering the room. Charles couldn’t help himself: he stiffened again. No sooner did he than the younger man hesitated. Of course.

“Dad?” James asked. “Are we good or not?”

Charles hesitated. He saw the wariness slip back into his son’s face, watched his body language shift into an even less threatening position. Damn it all, they still saw him as the fragile sapling, the cracked and mushy eggshell, the trembling leaf on rocky winds and every other exaggerated metaphor in the book. It broke his heart a little bit. It also made him mad.

Had they not noticed any change for the better? Did a head held higher, a smile more frequent and almost entirely uninterrupted sentences mean nothing at all? No, Charles thought and this time he didn’t care about any and all possible eavesdropping. His family didn’t want him to change. To them he was damaged, helpless and unstable and above all incapable of thinking for himself.

Evidently James noticed the prolonged silence because he called out again, this time gentler and definitely a touch worried. Again Charles fought the temptation to duck his head and again he succeeded. Instead he chewed his lip before his features worked their way into a frown.

“What d-do you want, James?”

James closed the door. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “And I know, I know I’m always worried about you but this is different I swear.”

Charles stopped chewing his lip, the soft and sore flesh still between his teeth. His stomach churned as he waited for an explaination.

“I know you’re thinking about leaving—and before you say anything, I didn’t have to read your mind. You uh, you project sometimes when you concentrate.”

Just like that, Charles’ anger took a back seat. He paled and his trembling heart sank into his stomach. Don’t, he told himself but it was hard, it was hard not to jump the first erratic thought-train pulling out of the station. He projected? How far? Shite, did everyone in this house already know he wanted to—

“Whoa whoa, hey—“ James winced, pinching one side of his head. “That’s, yeah that’s what I’m talkin’ about. It’s only loud enough for me to hear.”

Charles sincerely hoped James meant that because of his mutation, not because he monitored Charles like a hawk. James was a traveler by nature; before Erik’s return the boy spent half his time exploring the stars. Perhaps the one and only thing Charles missed about those days. That and his own naïveté.

“Alright,” said Charles finally. “So you know I-I want to leave...are you going to stop me?”

His fingers flexed and unfurled at his side, resisting the temptation to tug the hem of his shirt. Nervous habits did no good here. If he wanted even a small place to stand he needed to be stronger, or at least present himself that way. Think of Erik. Be like Erik. Erik wouldn’t be afraid of his own son...

James didn’t answer right away, not with words. A series of expressions washed over his face, everything from muddled to conflicted.

“Are you going to make me?” He asked quietly.

Charles’ stomach churned. It didn’t seem like he had a choice. That’s not all it sounds like...

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “D-don’t phrase it like that, don’t pin this on me, I won’t...”

Charles shook his head. Why, he thought. Why must it be this way?

“Dad?”

“What?” James’ yellow eyes widened and the lines in his face, however few there were, tightened. Damn it. Charles drew in a slow breath, then let it out again.

“I’m—” he tried again but cut himself off. Don’t apologize, Erik told him. He wasn’t to blame anymore.

“When you...s-say things like that it seems like you think this is all m-my fault,” Charles explained. His fingers twitched again, looking for an anchor against the building storm. He curled his hands into fists.

James said nothing. Charles took it as a sign to continue. (He hoped it was, otherwise his son was multitasking telepathically...)

“I-I’ve lived most of my life that way,” Charles said. “That...that’s a f-form of abuse, James...”

Erik might hold little love for the extended Xavier family but Charles was an Xavier too...didn’t he owe them a chance to understand? Understand, really? Isn’t it a little late for that?

The lines in his son’s face twisted and in place of wariness now he looked hurt. Genuinely hurt, as though he’d been dealt a critical blow to his character. Charles supposed he essentially had.

“Are you seriously accusing me of abuse? Me? I’m the one who pulled you out of there,” James said darkly and Charles realized it wasn’t hurt he was hearing but betrayal.

“Nobody here gets what you’ve been through better than me,” James went on. “I read your mind, remember? I’ve seen everything that’s happened to you.”

Yellow eyes met Charles’ blue ones. As if Charles somehow needed reminding of their first encounter. Fuck, why must everything be a fight? (Why indeed: wasn’t this what Erik tried to tell him before?) Despite his best efforts Charles wasn’t able to hold back his anxiety any longer: he uncurled one hand and brought it up, biting hard on his index finger. I hate myself. I hate this.

James evidently also needed a moment: he loed away, rubbing his neck. A muscle pulsed beside his jaw—once, twice—and vanished in a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t come here to upset you,” he said, turning back to Charles. Charles chewed on his knuckle. He believed that much, that James meant no harm by what he said. The boy was many things but a willing antagonist did not fit his character. What is it they say? The road to heartache is paved with good intentions? Something like that...

This time it seemed the younger telepath waited for Charles to speak: he stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing now and then towards the door. Or was it away that he looked, waiting for Charles to collect himself? The elder and stunted telepath flushed. He took his hand out of his mouth.

“I...I understand your concerns,” he murmured. “I do, honestly...b-but they’re stuck in the past. Erik hasn’t hurt me once s-since his return and he isn’t g-going to in the future. You’re a telepath, surely you can see that.”

He was fidgeting again, but at least he’d finally said it. If James were going to make a point of bringing up his powers he ought to be reminded of their full scope. Indeed, James’ mouth twinged and twitched like he wanted to say something but knew there might be consequences. Instead he crossed his arms. “That’s not the point...”

“Then what is the p-point?” Charles asked. He tugged at the hem of his pullover. If only he could talk to James as easily as he did with Erik...but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it.

“James?” Charles ventured when the other man didn’t answer. He still looked like he wanted to but—

“We’re your family,” James blurted. He removed one hand from his pocket, thumping his chest. “Me, mom and Em—hell you have grandkids now, dad. Why...why isn’t that enough?”

“I...” Charles started but he trailed off. His heart throbbed and squirmed as guilt and loyalty and obligation tried to grab for it. Think of Erik, he told himself again. He’d do anything for Erik. He loved Erik. He wanted to be with Erik...no matter the cost.

“I’m not happy here,” Charles confessed. “Nobody trusts me, nobody listens to me a-and Hank is cruel to me, James, he’s been c-cruel for years—”

“You never told me that—”

“I tried!” Charles cried, gesturing to James with his free hand. “You—all of you, you don’t listen, you just...it s-seems like you think I’m the p-problem. I’m not,” he said, searching his son’s face. Once again, James was slow to answer. When he did, his words were shaky on his tongue.

“I never thought of you as a problem. I was relieved when I found out you weren’t the monster everyone made you out to be.”

Charles gave him a look—a pained, disappointed look. “You don’t b-believe I can be fixed. That’s the same thing.”

They parted ways shortly after that. James mentioned something about having to share their conversation with Raven to which Charles curtly wished him well. Once alone he limped over to the bed, collapsing with his hands clasped over his mouth.

That was it then: if his son—his only bloody telepathic child—couldn’t understand him, kept twisting his words and his heart into suffocating knots—what hope was there anyone else would listen? Fuck, he hoped Raven wouldn’t confront Hank. No no please don’t tell Hank what I said—

Charles whimpered: his belly jumped and his chest convulsed. He should be proud of himself, he knew that and he knew Erik would tell him the same. He’d finally stood up for himself, something he hadn’t done in...shite, he couldn’t remember. Sadly (sickeningly) it didn’t seem to matter right now: if James talked to Raven and Raven told Hank then word would spread and they’d all gang up on him and it hurt so fucking much how badly that frightened him. They were supposed to be different. He thought they were. You stupid old fool. You never learn.

Charles dropped his arms: he doubled over, catching his head in his hands.

“I want to leave,” he croaked. He’d never said it aloud before. “I want to leave, I want t-to leave this place...”

[elegant-etienne]

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(This song is what always comes to mind when I see the word ‘Trusted.’ And I think a lot about how I used to relate to this song, in the wake of a really bad break-up, but now that I’m older, I have to wonder if the narrator of the song is being at all reasonable. I also find it helpful, when revisiting subjects I’ve written before, to twist around the perspective a bit, and give myself permission, without naming the character in this piece, to treat Etienne’s ex-husband as a NPC, and admit to myself a lot of my own character’s faults from the outside.)

BEHIND THE CUT: Descriptions of a toxic marriage, substance abuse and addiction, suicidal ideation and an attempt, allusions to past abuse and PTSD, and very inaccurate TBH but this is more or less how I remember it going down descriptors of someone having a “split personality,” and some light misgendering of Etienne (they ID’ed as male when they met their ex-husband, and at the time of their wedding).

Also I am sorry for any errors, I can’t go back and fix them after the initial post or it’ll break the formatting on the post.

insp. Ben Folds - Trusted

It's funny I know But I'm disappointed in you I thought you could read my mind

Your husband - your spouse Etienne is doing better after the time away. Actually, the time when they was sleeping in the recovery wing - three sennights - is among the best you two have had. A few hours of visitation, and they're affectionate and loving and missing you. Even a rare smile, and they show you where the stitches came out. A bell or two isn't enough time to get worked into a fervor about things and restart the same fights you've been having for moons.

When they return, Etienne has warmth in their cheeks again. They're gaining weight again. They don't smile, but they've always been quiet about that sort of thing. They've missed you. They've missed you so much. They look more like they did on your wedding day, that reserved, understated glow. They look like the Etienne you married.

(In those moments when you thought you could still be one person successfully. In those moments when they thought they'd killed the other you. In those moments when they stood at you at the altar, teary-eyed but happy, so happy.)

"Welcome home, Etie," you say with your brightest grin.

"I'll be better this time. I promise. I'll never do that again."

You laugh and embrace. You're both so relieved.

But I came home early And saw that a drawer'd been opened Looks like you've been reading my diary instead

After a long shift in Medica, all you want to do is come home and take a bath. Etienne seems to have other ideas, however. They're seated at the desk. They're glaring at you. They hold up your notebook - the one with all the reports.

"So this is what you've been doing at night while I'm gone? Forbidden research and magic? I thought we talked about this! It's too dangerous, after the last time. What if it goes too far?"

"There was no one else who could do it. It had to be me." You've never raised your voice to Etienne. Not once. Sometimes, you've cried while you're fighting. Etienne has shouted before. Twice. It frightened you.

(They wanted to kill the other half of you.)

"What if something had happened to you while I was in care? I wouldn't have known where you were. And what if there had been an emergency at the FC? Folk need you. I need you. And you promised..." Etienne bows their head, sucking in sharp breaths to try and stop the crying.

"You have no business going through my notes. There could have been patient information in there!"

"...You were acting strangely. You were hurt. You weren't telling me things. You broke your promise." The tears have been withdrawn, all that's left is dead, blank sullenness from Etienne.

"I had no other choice."

"Did you even try to stop and think of one?"

"There wasn't time. Percy and--"

"Percy?!" There it is, the raised voice, a burst of life, a flame in their eyes. "I knew it. I knew he and you--"

"It was work--"

"--Have something going on, you told me it was nothing, you told me you weren't seeing him when I wasn't around-- While I was in the bloody hospital from trying to kill myself because I can't stand this, and you wouldn't leave me alone, you wouldn't just give me the space, and now the moment you have you're running around--" Etienne always gets like this. A million words a moment. Each a pointed attack, an accusation. When Etienne gets this way, you can't do anything right.

"--It's only work--!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back. Maybe Rosa was right, it's too soon, we're not ready." Etienne straights their posture, scrubbing at their eyes with the heels of their hands. "I drew you a bath. I'm going to bed."

How does it feel to realize You're all alone behind your eyes?

The bath is strewn with rose petals, the candles burned down hours ago. It's dark and cool in the bedroom off the heat of the bath. Your spouse is bunched up in one corner of the bed. "I love you, you know," you speak to the dark. To Etienne's back.

"I love you too," Etienne says, but doesn't turn around. “...Be honest. Did you fuck him?”

“No, it’s not like that. He found this... it was like a cursed circus, full of twisted creatures, he needed cleansing spells, he was able to show me ways to amplify my power...”

(He knows about the other you.)

"It's alright if you did," Etienne says, malms away in the same bed. Did they even hear your explanation? "If you want to, just tell me. We can figure out an arrangement, a lot of married couples do, just don't lie to me. Don't lie."

"It's not like that."

It seems to me if you can't trust You can't be trusted

You wait to hear the soft wheeze of Etienne's snores, but you drift off before they do. Somehow. In the middle of the night, it's a repeat of others. This hasn't changed with the time in care ward, apparently. Etienne sits up and starts screaming, won't be held, won't be comforted. 3AM in the morning and your spouse is in the corner, knees to chest, rocking. They start rooting around, too, when you pretend to sleep. They won't find anything. You poured all the liquor out sennights ago -- even the things in the back of the icebox and at the top of the bookshelf.

Caught in a dream Picking up astral signals Some of them psychic, you better watch what you think

You come home to Etienne sitting in front of their vanity. You see the shimmer of a deactivated glamour prism. There are tears in their eyes, but you don't know why. They slip the plate into a drawer somewhere, and you do not ask more about it.

"I got more of the sedative. To help you with sleeping. So you don't have to drink." It's never difficult to cadge a little bit of medicine on the side for loved ones when it's needed - such are the benefits of being one of the heads of Medica. No one has to ask any questions. Etienne doesn't have to get upset or embarrassed at exposing their problems to anyone they don't trust. Rosa doesn't have to put her foot down and force Etienne to stay in the care ward, away from you. It's win-win.

Something flits across Etienne's face - suspicion, mayhap, and they say-- "I'm going to try and handle it. I'm. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to keep giving me that stuff."

"The sedative's non-habit-forming. It's better than alcohol, at least."

"I still shouldn't turn to something every time I'm distressed. It scares me. Depending on that."

"Then at least talk to me about what's bothering you."

Etienne looks at you through the mirror, not turning around. "It's not anything distinct. It's. Hands. Being pulled down into darkness. Being pinned down. Being unable to escape. Sometimes it's so real I feel it, getting slammed into a wall or onto the icy ground... and no matter how I struggle, I can't get free. So I start screaming."

"Etie..."

"Well, whatever. Everyone's got their shite." You hate this. How they mutter and retreat into themselves. They fold up into themselves and they don't come back.

(Your nightmares are of fire, of the Calamity. Lost in the woods, mother and father are gone, you can't find your brother's hand--)

Etienne shuffles resentfully into the silence. "Are you willing to tell me what you did on that mission?"

"Are you promising not to get angry when I tell you the  details?"

Etienne lifts their chin. "I'll decide that when you tell me."

(You tell them. You don't tell them all of it. You don't tell them he's back.)

Happens to be that everybody else's dreams are Freudian clues You better watch what you dream

A few suns later, Etienne makes breakfast for you. That pink ruffly apron, but there's no singing this morning: just the sizzling pan. "Do you remember anything at all about last night?" they ask, plating up the little fish with fresh, fluffy rice. They loved that Doman cooking book you got them.

"Um..."

Etienne pours you scalding hot green tea. "I went looking for you. I gave that friend of yours quite a scare. I think maybe he thought I'd burn him alive." Etienne snorts. "I just made his tea boil a bit. When he told me the truth of what you two have been up to."

"Why would you--"

"Then I found you in the Quicksand. Chatting up someone else. Are you cheating on us both, darling?"

Your head's spinning as you try to braid the threads of last night back together. "That wasn't me--"

"No, it wasn't. I brought him back here. He was as awful to me as ever." Etienne accuses with swordlike jabs. "If he's back," they say, "Why did we do any of it? The ritual? I almost lost you then! Why did you make me do any of that if he was just going to come back?"

(Your head hurts.)

"You shouldn't have gone through my things," you hiss out. "There are things that you are better off not knowing!"

"Oh, like the fact you and that boy have a magical connection? Unlike anything either of you has ever experienced? And how you - the other you - is the most brilliant mind he's ever known? It's just like I said. Remember that? You said nothing was happening, but he's totally in love with you."

"It isn't like that."

"Tell that to him, then."

(Etienne never listens.)

"Even if there's something going on - it - it isn't with me and him, it's--"

"The other one. I know. The other one who threatened to kill me."

"He was just testing you."

"And that makes it better?"

"He's lashing out because you tried to destroy him."

"He started it. You said the ritual would fix you," Etienne rasps out a whisper. "I can't believe this. I can't believe we did all that and... I'm dragging someone wearing the body of my husband out of a seedy tavern. I looked like such a fool. I thought we fixed this."

"Maybe," you feel your voice dropping to a growl, "I never needed to be fixed."

You want to see the other side What's going on behind the eyes

(Last winter, you came out of a fog to Etienne staring at you, withdrawn into a calmly blank expression, their posture stiff.

"Why," they ask you, "Did you just threaten to murder me?"

You said, groggily, "What?"

And you explained it all. The splitting.

"How am I supposed to feel safe around you when there's - there's something inside you that wants to kill me?" Etienne asks, too steadily. "He knows everything about me that I've told you. He knows what I'm afraid of. This is a problem." They say, and they speak your name urgently.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, if - if he did."

"Oh, I wasn't scared," Etienne says, quietly and intensely. "I'm used to being around men who'd just as soon slit my throat as fuck me. Or one and then the other, with no particular preference of the order. I just didn't realize you were one of them.")

Still it seems if you can't trust You can't be trusted

Here is one of the fights you've had more than once: your friend thought of a way to get rid of the other personality. Put him into another body.

"So we'd just take the body of someone who - what? Even if you found a willing subject, that would be killing someone." Etienne pulls their knees up to their chest, the water rippling. You're sitting at the edge of the bath. They seem to want to melt into the steam wafting off the surface. It makes them dewy. You're not sure if they're crying or not.

"No," you tell them, "We could put him into another body where the spirit had already returned to the Lifestream."

"That's necromancy. I won't do necromancy."

"We may have no other option."

"If you mess with corpses, you really won't have control over what ends up in there. You could be inviting something very, very bad in. You know that, don't you? What you're talking about is defiling the dead. It's a sin. It's a defiance of Nald'Thal's balance. It's a perversion of everything I believe. You know that. You shouldn't do it. Don't ask me to do it!"

"What if we have no other choice?"

Etienne stands up in the water, then, thinking to get out. They shout, "I can't do it! Don't ask me!" Their voice echoes and buzzes in the small space of the bath. The water ripples as they sink back down into it. They let the water bury them like a comfort blanket. "I'm - I'm sorry. Please just go away," they say in a tiny voice. "Let me think."

"I'll be outside."

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

In the end, what else could you do? Etienne didn't trust you to handle the situation. Etienne wouldn't participate in the most obviously effective ritual. Etienne was angry at you when the first attempt didn't work as planned. Etienne was an unstable, suicidal, dangerously alcoholic. It hadn't taken much time at all after the hospitalization for them to fall back on old ways.

They couldn't be trusted.

On the day you left to do it, you kissed their forehead, tucked the blankets all around them, and put strong wards on the doors after emptying another round of hidden bottles.

The sun's coming up She's pulled all the blankets over Curled in a ball Like she's hiding from me and That's when I know

Their voice comes over the linkpearl. There's a danger to it. "Why are there wards on the door, what are these?"

"It's the only way to keep you from drinking when I can't be there," you explain calmly.

Etienne sucks in a breath, and you brace for yelling. "You can't just lock me in here," they whisper. "I'm a person. I'm an adult. You have to let me out."

"I have somewhere to be for a few suns. You've food in there. You'll be alright. Sober up."

"Can't you call someone to come check on me? Rosa, or someone? Please, I can't - don't leave me here alone."

"I'm sorry, it was my only option. This can't wait."

She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up For terrible things I did to her in her dreams

The apartment is in poor shape when you return. It seems at several points Etienne attempted to magic the doorway and scorched the rug - or the levin sparked and started a fire - and they also attempted sheer brute force. One of the charming little kitchen chairs is splintered. But the Etienne you find is more like the Etienne you married. Ducking their head shyly, saying, "I'm really sorry... I'm sorry I relapsed, I'm weak."

"I'm sorry I had to do that," you say. The two of you hug desperately.

(You're sorry you had to do all of it.)

You want to see the other side What's going on behind the eyes

(You're sorry the first ritual failed. The softness and patience Etienne showed you then, when you were recovering, when you didn't remember them - they were just as sweet as they'd been when you first got married. When you first started dating. Before everything got so bad.)

Still it seems if you can't trust You can't be trusted

The night Etienne tried to kill themselves, you had a fight. It was about all those nights you went out, not telling them where you were going. "I can't keep doing this," Etienne said to you, staring up at the statue of Nald'thal in the Ossuary. "I can't." They speak your name with such quiet urgency. "I need time to think."

"Please," you beg, your eyes stinging. "Don't leave me." You grab their arm. They try to jerk away from the touch.

Their voice echoes loud in the Ossuary. "Don't bloody touch me when I’m upset! Please!"

You hold onto their arm harder. Their arm is so thin. They're slipping away from you. "Please don't leave, please don't be angry. Please...!"

"I'm not -- I'm not -- I just..."

You're sobbing.

"I'm sorry, darling," Etienne says, gently touching your face, your hair, "Let's go home."

You have a long conversation-argument at the apartment. You explain why the work is essential. They beg you to promise not to do things that put you in danger. You tell them you'll do your best. You don't like doing things that upset them, after all.

"I don't know what's wrong with me,” Etienne murmurs. “I feel hounded, I can't sleep. You're always so busy. Since the ritual and... since that... incident with Henri..."

"Are you guilty? Because of what happened?"

"I honestly just want to be alone," Etienne says. They are sitting at the desk about a yalm from you, but they're malms away. "So much has happened the last few moons. I need to figure it out."

"Do you mean traveling? I can't right now, with work -- and I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be on your own. I don't think you're alright on your own right now."

"True," Etienne says, lowering their head. They shuffle around in the desk, and your feel your face heat. Another bottle? Etienne whispers something, "You won't let me go," mayhap, and then. The letter opener.

Thank the Twelve you're a healer. Thank the Twelve you had the sedative. They beg you for it that night, after you stop the bleeding. They can’t sleep and they’re half mad, crying and ranting. And you take them to your co-worker Rosa in the morning. She takes Etienne away from you. Says they need to rest and recover under direct supervision. Etienne doesn't even want to see you at first, or perhaps it's that Rosa won't let you near them. She's the one who stipulated only short visits while Etienne recovers. She only lets you back after Etienne sleeps for two suns straight.

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

You remember the day you fell in love with Etienne. You both were sitting at the Quicksand. You had tea, they had orange juice, and another man sat down between you two at the table and made himself welcome. He asked you why you stuttered.

"While on the subject of questions, why are you so bloody rude?" Etienne asked. They said to you, "You don't have to answer that." And you smiled, feeling sunshine radiating out of every pore.

"I'm not the sort of man for relationships," Etienne said, later, as you walked down the streets of Ul'dah, over to the steps of the Ossuary. You offered to escort them to work, as though they needed it. "I've been through a lot. I don't even know if I can love anyone - it all seems like kind of a fool's errand, honestly. Men are... I've just met so many, many awful men."

You took their hand, and they look at you, surprised. "I can be patient," you promised them, "I can wait. I think you're worth it. I think you're worth trying for. I've never met anyone like you."

"Well, thank you, I suppose," Etienne says, their lips twisting as they hold back skeptical laughter. "Let’s promise one another, though - let’s be honest with one another about how this going. If someone else catches your fancy, or I do something you don't like, please just tell me. You wouldn't believe how many times I got hauled out of a nobleman's bed by a surprised wife. As if it's my fault their marriage is falling apart! I don't want anything like that, alright? No silly secrets!”

"Promise."

“Not that I imagine we'll get married. I'm really not the type." Etienne laughs at the sky. “What am I doing?!”

Hello.

[theduplicitousdame]

(Chapter four of “Ace of Knives”)

“Answers”

Naharé entered through the Missing Member's doors and beamed a shite eating grin the moment Tray'ju caught her eyes. She sauntered her way towards the back of his chair with an all too cheery hum ringing from her throat. As soon as she was behind him she leaned in to slide both hands down his chest. Her breath smelled of rum when her lips touched his ear. "I have a few questions fer ye, sweet'eart." Just then the back of one hand swiftly moved to his throat with the blades on her glove putting pressure against his skin. The other hand came up to clasp her palms together to keep her grip firm.

Tray'ju had been enjoying a nice dinner. He was eating a chocobo burger slathered in fried onions and wine sauce. Point was, it was delicious, and juicy, and only half eaten when he caught the smell of booze and gun powder. He had enough time to swallow and put the burger down before the glove touched his throat. His tail twitched upwards and the three, poison barbed onyx rings rested an ilm away from Nahare's stomach. Tray forced a lecherous purr. “Couldn’t ye just say ‘ello like a normal person?” He commented with a wry smirk twisting his lips.

Naharé sharply bit his ear. "Ye expected summit else? Yet again I'm disappointed in ye." She let go of his neck but not before a few of her nails left a grazing trail. "Yer food smells good." She took a step back and kicked his tail away as she made her way around the table. A single finger dipped itself into the sauce with her tongue wrapping around the digit a nonce later. "Nnh. Not bad." She made herself comfortable in the chair across from him with one leg crossed over the other and her arms folded across her chest. The bloodied grenade pin could be seen on the leather chord around her neck and the equally as blooded Five of Knives peering from the left side of her brassiere. "Ye be a good boy an' hear me out, an' I'll leave ye ta ye dinner. Savvy?"

Tray'ju let out a small moan of enjoyment despite himself. There was a brief moment where he thought about legitimately driving those poisoned barbs into her, but she retreated before he could decide. Instead his tail came to rest by his legs once more. His visible blue eye glared at her, and he rose an eyebrow while his pierced tongue rolled over his gums. He weighed the situation in his mind. Tray casually lowered his hands to his belt with the fingers of his right hand lightly resting on his holstered revolver. “How can I refuse such a generous offer?” He replied sarcastically, feigning a delighted smile. “Do go on.” Every muscle in his body was coiled to spring. He had not forgotten her card.

Naharé's eyes flickered to his hands. The gesture wasn't lost on her. She mocked his expression with a raised brow of her own. "The pin. Who?" Her voice held a blunt tone. She squared her jaw and ground her teeth together.

"Who what?" Tray answered calmly. "Need context here my dear." His tail flicked as he watched her grind her jaw.

Naharé narrowed her eyes. "Gave. Ye. Tha. Pin."

"Million gil question, ain't it?" Tray mused. "No one gave it to me. I took it. Right off a workbench." He paused to take another bite of his food. "Oh, forgot to mention the workbench was in yer husband's cell." He swallowed. "Did it while the guards were smashing him around. Proof I know who has him."

Naharé inhaled sharply through her nose. She was partially right on her hunch of Askier being captured. The air held in her chest exhaled very slow. "Fer a second I thought ye were lackin' basic question comprehension. Where is 'e?"

Tray'ju clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I suddenly can't recall. Too many mushrooms last night." He gave an innocent looking shrug. "But I do remember the name of the chap that locked him up in the first place." He reached into his coat and slipped a sketch of a Lalafell across the table. The Lalafell was elderly, with a refined mustache and well groomed hair. "Frandrin Mandrin. Monetarist, businessman, and Garlean sympathizer. Having yer husband makin' bombs for the Garleans again was a happy day for him indeed. Ye should ask him yerself. And feel free to kill him after." Tray gave an endearing smile. "Does us both a favor."

"It seems ye've fergotten about that bounty sittin' on top 'o yer pretty head, yeah?" Naharé grumbled and snatched the sketch. "Ye claim not knowin' tha location but ye can easily tell me who?" In her head she mused, 'I'll kill both 'o ye whoresons.' She tilted her head with a sigh. "Is this tha bugger ye royally pissed off an' ruined yer life ta? I thought ye were keepin' yer head down but yer still playin' 'round in prison cells it seems. Yer not very smart, love."

"Think what ye like about how I got the pin." Tray shrugged, amused she thought he'd taken the pin after his fall from grace. Truth was, she'd been an insurance policy since before he'd lost everything. "But ye have yerself a name, but not anything else. I'm not gonna play all my cards. And if ye feel like trying on collecting on that bounty right here and now, well," He pulled the hammer back on his revolver with his thumb as he used his other hand to pull the fabric from his black eye. “I’ll be sure to send my regards to yer husband. I know what it’s like to be a widower.”

Naharé slowly, and carefully, folded the sketch into several neat squares. She was focused on the sketch, yet both of her ears sat perked high and forward catching Tray's movements. "Sweet'eart ye've already started yer card game with me. Ye can't take that back even if'n ye wanted ta." Her eyes lifted to his face now. "Yer threat is fallin' on ears that dun care. I'd be stupid ta collect me bounty righ' now." A smile curled her lips. "Yer gun worries me not. So, why did ye give me tha pin in tha firs' place, hm?" Even if she did collect her husband alive it didn't guarantee that he'd stay in one piece.

"Ye know," Tray licked his lips as he pretended to think. "It's the damnedest thing, I can't recall that either." He chuckled. "Damn all the mushrooms. I should probably stop." He took another massive bite of his food. He chewed loudly and swallowed. "But least ye have a shot at freeing yer mate. Seems like ye are coming out ahead here. I never was a very good card player."

Naharé wrinkled her nose as if to sneeze. She held up a finger in a 'one moment' gesture and turned her head. "Ugh," she muttered when no 'sneeze' came forth. Naharé gently rubbed the tip of her nose. "Nnh. It's summit learned over time." She shook her head, blinking a few times. "Think m'good now." With her palms she pushed away from the table and stood. "Ye did as I asked. Surprisin'ly." Around the table she went again and with another pause by Tray's chair. "Look... Thank ye. I guess." A feigned frown crossed her face. "Enjoy tha rest 'o yer food, love. An' tha kid play date ye mentioned a while back? I jus' migh' take yer offer if'n yer still up fer it." She squeezed his shoulder and gave him a half smile.

Tray'ju rose an eyebrow at her sudden display of... whatever it was. It was weird and it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. 'Thank ye' from her lips was as bizzare as seeing a cat bark and the smuggler was now more uneasy than ever. He wasn't sure how to react and he blinked several times to compose himself. "Well, I... suppose maybe we will. I'll have to get back to ye on that after seeing how my son is." Tray did not let go of his gun even though he returned he smile.

"I... jus' wanna set shite straight, yeah? Bein' shitty ain't gonna help. Hells ye didn't even have ta tell me tha shite ye did now." She blew air through her lips and sighed again. "I'll see ye later..." With that she shoulder pushed the tavern doors open and made her leave, running her hands through her hair and mumbling all the while.

Tray'ju watched her go. He sucked on his teeth and then, leaning forward, used his free hand to eat the rest of his now tepid burger.

Naharé walked along the path leading down towards the Lower Decks with a deranged smile on her face. The thought of Tray'ju's kid had sparked another card to play and it amused her more than it probably should have. The laughter of her deceased, and equally as deranged, brother-in-law echoed in her mind. His abuse and influence still affected her to this day, and it was from that which stemmed the idea. Her chin twitched back and forth a few times, and after placing a roll of tobacco in her mouth she muttered, "Thanks little brother."

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Better Hands” - Part 4 (Finale)

“Better Hands” - Part 4

( Part 1 / Part 2  / Part 3)

My Masterlist - Here

Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 1,972

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, nothing else really. Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After being in an abusive relationship, you have been able to turn your life around thanks to the help of the team. But when you have to go back to your ex for some of your things, some shit goes down.

Author’s Note: So this is my first Star Trek piece and I’m super fuckin nervous about it. I’m not a huge Trekkie, but I am a fan of the newer films. Those are what I base my fics off of unless stated otherwise. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tags: @goodnightwife @feelmyroarrrr @the-witching-hours12-3 @pokeharvest @iwillstaywiththemforever @fandomismymiddlename

You reported to Scotty a little later than you thought, but you went to work nonetheless. Scotty was surprised to see you back so soon, but he didn’t see too much harm in it. The only injury he knew about what the one of your hand from yesterday’s accident with the knife. Even though he let you work, he wasn’t okay with giving you too much to do. He didn’t want to run the risk of you injuring yourself again while your hand was still wrapped up.

It was about halfway through the workday for you. You were in a Jefferies Tube working on a sensor. Scotty was going to help you out when he realized that he had forgotten one of his welding tools back in the workshop. You decided to just go ahead and work on it until he came back.

You were about to finish undoing the last bolt when your comm went off. You didn’t even look at who was calling, you just figured it was Scotty letting you know he was on his way back. Placing the comm in between your good shoulder and your ear, you answered while still focusing on the sensor.

“(Y/L/N) here.”

“Where the hell are you?!” Leonard wasn’t yelling, but his voice had an intensity that you hadn’t heard before. You knew he was upset. Very upset.

“I uh… I--” Before you could come up with anything good to say, Leonard cut you off.

“I just called Scotty to let him know that you aren’t going to be reporting to him for at least a week because of injuries, and he tells me that you are there with him!”

“Scotty has been making sure I don’t do too much! And technically, he isn’t here right now. He went to--” You should have known better than to be a smartass. Leonard was even more annoyed.

“Grab a tool. I know. What the hell are you thinking, going back to work? You could get worse!” You knew his heart was in the right place, but when he was angry, it was hurtful.

“I know. Look, I just… I couldn’t just sit around your room and do nothing! You know me! I need to be doing things and being productive!”

“Then we find something for you to do while you rest! Just...” He paused and you could hear him try to take a deep breath or two to try to calm down even a smidge. “Where are you right now?”

“Right now I’m in tube F-24. I’m trying to replace a fried sensor. I am fine--”

“That’s it. You are done for today.” You tried to interrupt and fight back a little, but then he pulled the doctor card out. “No, (Y/N). Doing what you do at work could cause you to accidentally stretch too much and mess something up. You could pop a stitch or slice your hand open again or--”

“Fine! I’ll clock out after I finish this sensor malfunction. Unless there is another hypothetically life threatening about doing this simple task that you need to point out.” You honestly couldn’t hide your frustration any longer.  

His end of the line went silent for a moment before clicking off. You knew he was upset, but this was new. You could only imagine the hell you’d be getting when you clocked out. As for now, there seemed to be no use in dwelling on it. You were going to fix this sensor, go shower and change back in your quarters, and then deal with Hurricane Leonard.

It had only been about 5 or so minutes and you were already almost done with this assignment. You were tightening a corner of the sensor when you felt a tapping on your shoulder. Scotty must have finally come back from getting his welding tool. How he forgot that tool out of all the possible tools he could forget was a mystery to you.

“It’s about time you came back, Scotty. I’m almost done with this corner. Then it should be only a few more minutes.” There were another couple of taps on your shoulder. “Jeez Scotty! I’m going as quick as I can! Calm the fuck down!”

“You snuck out to go work even though you are on medical leave, your shoulder is bleeding, and you want me to calm down?”

That was not Scotty’s voice.

You turn around to see the very intense face of Leonard. You then looked at your shoulder and see a bit of blood seeping through your shirt. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but enough to make an already worried boyfriend even more worried. You apparently moved it wrong and popped a few stitches, but were too engrossed in your work to notice.

Scotty then rushed in. He stood next to Leonard and looked at you with a mixture of confusion and fear in his eyes.

“What the hell happened to ya, lassie? I thought it was just your hand!” You didn’t know how to respond. It’s like everything inside of you froze. Leonard sighs and then speaks up for you.

“In short, she tried to get her stuff back from Tim and he didn’t like it.” Scotty just looks at you questioningly, as if you ask if it was true. You nod your head and then turn around and lift your shirt to show him the stitches, cuts, and bruises. When you turn back around to face him, he looked heartbroken. You were like his little sister. To see you hurt this badly crushed him a little inside.

“If I would have known about this shite, I would have sent your ass back home.”

Bones shoots you a look that showed how scared he was but also said ‘I told you so.’ You now start to feel your shoulder hurting. Scotty takes your tools in one hand and grabs your hand with his other.

“(Y/N). I can’t have my best engineer working in an unstable state. You need to go. You can come back as soon as Leonard gives an okay.” He saw some tears starting to form in your eyes. You really loved your work and you hated being in this situation. “Hey, come on now. This won’t be forever. I’m only doing this because I don’t want you to get hurt again. You’re a tough girl, but you’re not invincible. I can’t have you poppin’ stitches everyday.” You just give him a small smile as he kisses your forehead in a familial way.  

You try to stand up but feel a bit lightheaded, causing you to wobble and fall against the wall. And of course, you ended up hitting a bruise again. Yelping, you start to get tunnel vision. Before you could fall any further, Leonard’s hands were supporting you.

“Dammit, (Y/N/N)!” Leonard pulls his comm out of his pocket and calls for a wheelchair to be rushed to your location. It would have been easier to just pick you up, but it would also be very painful for you and could possibly put too much stress on your stitches.

The wheelchair doesn’t take long to get there. Leonard helps you in the chair and wheels you back to his quarters. Its eerily quiet. Leonard seems to be breathing deeply and trying his best to calm down so he doesn’t explode at you.

He helps you sit on the bed before he turns to his supply closet. He comes back with an assortment of bandages and disinfectants. But there was something else that caught your eye, something that made your heart race and your breathing struggled: the dermal regenerator.

You had a very bad experience with one of these a few years back. You had gotten hit in the leg during an away mission. You didn’t know the science behind what happened, but something in the machine reacted badly to whatever hit your leg and made everything malfunction. You still had a nasty scar on your leg because of it and avoided using the machine at all costs. And because of that experience, Leonard resorted to the old fashioned form of stitches for your latest injuries.

He helps you out of your work shirt and sees your eyes stuck on the small machine to his right. Leonard sighs before taking your hand and looking into your eyes.

“Sweetheart, I know you had a bad time with this before, but all of the kinks have been worked out. Nothing will happen like last time. I promise.” You couldn’t help but panic.

“But what if it’s not? What if it’s something wrong with me and not the machine? What if this specific machine messes up? What if--” Leonard put a hand on your cheek and made you really look at him now.

“If I’m wrong and something bad happens, I will let you punch me.” You look at him for a few seconds, processing what he said, and then spoke.

“I don’t punch hard though. It wouldn’t be rewarding.” He contemplated some other options. He thought of one and chuckled a bit. He knew you would go for this.

“What if Jim is the one who punches me? One time, I don’t fight back, and you can record it.” You laughed at the thought of it. You couldn’t help but agree to those terms. “Alright, now that that is settled, I need you to turn around and let me get to work.”

He helped you turn around and get as comfortable as you could. He was going to let go of you, but you grabbed one of his hands. He sort of smiles and holds your hand. The dermal regenerator was small enough that he could hold it in one hand.

It took about 15 minutes of a monotonous whirring noise and a sort of warm feeling along the gashes until Leonard felt okay with the healing. He gave your hand a squeeze before he got up and got one of his sleep shirts for you.

As he did that, you went to the mirror and try to look at the skin on your back and shoulder to see if anything went wrong. You could barely tell anything had happened. There were no stitches or blood or marks. It was faintly red, but that would fade quickly. It was still very sore, but now it could heal even quicker. You stood and breathed a sigh of relief. Leonard came into the bathroom and puts his hands on your waist as he stands behind you, looking in the mirror.

“I told you it would be fine.” He had a smartass grin on his face.

You turn around to face him, your hands on his chest. He just leaned down and kissed your forehead before helping you into the shirt he picked out. Once you are comfortable, you walk forward and wrap your arms around his midsection, he gladly embraces you.

“Even though you are better than before thanks to the regenerator, your aren’t allowed back to work for a few days. Your muscles still need time to fully heal. I also want you to come by the Medbay. We never scanned to see if there was wrong internally. I don’t want to take any chances.”

You sigh a bit and look up at him. You are met with his gorgeous eyes that had the capability of melting your insides to mush.

“Can we do that tomorrow? I’m really hungry and tired.” Leonard laughed a bit at how innocent you sounded. Nodding, he agreed.

“Alright, sweetpea. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Right now, let’s get you some food.” You both smile at each other. Leonard then gently pulls you closer to him and presses a kiss against your lips, which you happily kiss back.

[solastia]

As You Are | 2

BTS Song Series: "As You Are,“ The Weeknd

Pairing: Yoongi X OC (Yong Sun). Also, pay attention to the other characters. We’ll see them again in the rest of my BTS Song Series.

THERE IS ACTUALLY NO YOONGI IN THIS CHAPTER. This is OC development. He will be in the next chapter though, don’t worry. 

Word Count:  2,235

Genre & Warnings:  Appointments mean exactly what you think it means. I didn’t want to go too graphic with it, but yeah. I suppose we can call this angst but there will be romance and shite. I like happy endings. And smut.

Note: Before anyone gets mad, and is all “What do you know? How dare you write about things you don’t understand.” (Because I’ve seen people attack authors like that).Trust me, I understand. This work is one I’ve been debating writing for awhile, not knowing how I felt about it, because Sun is basically me. I’ve gone through just about all of this. Every emotion she feels is one that I’ve felt. I would also like to state that if anyone reading this deals with abuse or knows of someone dealing with abuse, I am a safe space. Feel free to talk to me. I’ve been where you are, and I understand.

“Did you miss me?”

It was the same chilling voice from her nightmares.

Sunny fought against the hand clamped around her, all of her years of self-defense training going to waste as the old familiar fear overtook her. With one hand wrapped around her throat, her attacker used his other hand to pull her hair back, forcing her to look at him. Into the cold, menacing eyes of the man she called Father.

Time and alcoholism had not been kind to Eom Kang Ha. The looks that he once used to manipulate anyone into doing whatever he asked were gone. Instead, he was now overweight and wrinkled, features distorted by overindulgence. 

Sunny thought it was about time the outside matched his inside.

“Hold still! Fuck. You’re still such a brat.” He growled, slamming her head back into the wall, the pain causing her to gurgle out a cry.

She stills, hoping he’ll relax and loosen his grip so she can run. As he feels her calming down, he removes both of his hands. Sunny finds her legs don’t seem to want to obey. Instead, she stands, shivering, waiting to see what this monster wants.

“Now,” he says conversationally, almost upbeat. “You’ve been very bad, you know, not answering my letter. Is that any way to treat your old man?”

She wanted to treat him to a knife in his God damn throat so he’d stop talking.

“I’ve always wondered how my girls were doing. How you were doing. Sun, my oldest and favorite daughter. Imagine my surprise when I learned that you both were doing just fine. More than fine. FAMOUS. The girl group Phoenix that is taking over the country, the news said. Wow. Don’t that just beat all. And your sister looks so grown up, looking exactly like me.” He’s petting Sunny’s hair, obviously trying to warm up to whatever he’s going to say.

“Don’t fucking talk about her. Just say whatever the fuck you want and leave.” Sunny hisses at him, jerking her head away from his touch. She was going to have to scrub herself raw later.

“Always with the back talk.” He sighs, eyes narrowing at her.

“Look, I’ll make this quick and simple. I need money, you’re famous and shit now. All I want is some monetary compensation for raising you kids, and I’ll leave you be.”

She gasps at the audacity of this fucking bastard.

“Newsflash. I raised myself, asshole, and Mina too. The only thing you did was put me through hell. Why the fuck would I pay you for that?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s just for me. I have to pay for your sister's upkeep too.” He grinned malevolently, leaving her confused.  

“What are you talking about? Why would you pay for Mina’s upkeep?”

“Oh, not Mina. I didn’t tell you yet?” He chuckles. “I have another daughter. Her mother died a few years ago, so I’m a single parent yet again.” He sighs, sounding so forlorn, but she knew better.

“You’re still a fucking horrible liar.” She scoffs, thinking that he was obviously willing to do anything for money.

“Not lying, sweetheart. She's sitting in the car like a good girl. See?” He gestures behind him.

At first, all Sunny sees is THE car. It’s still the same beat up piece of shit that he used to use to drive her to all of her “appointments.” She hated that car and wanted to smash the windows. She took a step forward to do just that when she saw her. A little girl, no more than ten or eleven, sitting in the same front seat that Sunny used to have to sit in. She was practically a carbon copy of Mina at that age. Not that surprising, considering Mina looked mostly like their father, while Sunny looked like their Mom. The girl had the same nose, same mouth, almost everything the same as Mina. Except for the eyes. It wasn’t so much the appearance, but her expression. THAT was all Sunny. The same vacant stare that meant your mind was elsewhere. The dark circles that no child should have. The red rim meaning you’d been crying for hours. Sunny knew those eyes well because she’d had them staring at her from the mirror all of her childhood.

She knew without a doubt that not only was this little girl her sister but that the bastard had already started the girl on the same path he’d put Sunny on.

Sunny could practically feel a giant ball of years of pent up rage boiling to the surface as she screamed. She turned from the scene and launched herself at her Father.

“You fucking piece of shit!” She screamed as she jumped on his back, grabbing his thinning hair to pull his face to one side as she punched him as well as she could from that angle. It wasn’t the best move or that efficient, but she felt good every time her fist touched his face.

She was blind with fury and had no idea how long she’d been screaming or punching, but suddenly she felt ripped away. She looked at the offending party, surprised to see the dorm security. They must have been alerted by her screams and come running. One was holding her back, whispering that it was time to stop, another was helping her Father up from the ground. Somehow, she’d managed to bring him down and pummeled him pretty good, judging by the blood streaming from his mouth and nose. Luckily, the guards were both aware of the letter from before and knew precisely who this was.

“Mr. Eom, this is private property, and Miss Yong is well within her rights to protect herself. Unless you want authorities brought in, I suggest you vacate the premises.” The security guard tells her Father, grabbing him by the arm and directing him towards his car.

Fuck! The car!

“WAIT!” She screams. “There’s a girl. Get the girl!” She’s gesturing frantically at the vehicle, and Kang Ha struggles against the grip of the guard.

“Dammit, Sun! Shut your fucking mouth!” He yells at her, spittle flying. 

“Who is she? Is she in danger?” The auburn haired guard that had been holding her back asks, voice still soft like he’s placating a child.

“She’s my sister. And he’s abusing her. We’ll deal with any trouble later, for now, we need to save her.” Sunny growls, yanking her arm from the guard and prowling towards the vehicle. She doesn’t see that the guard has placed himself in front of Kang Ha to block him in case he frees himself, keeping an eye on her progress.

Sunny slows her steps once she gets closer to the car. She knows she needs to be careful not to scare the girl. She opens the car door slowly and squats down to eye level. The girl looks at her, eyes still vacant, obviously waiting for direction. She’s so skinny and has bruises all over her visible skin. Her right eye shows signs of a healing bruise, and her bottom lip has recently been split open. Her hair is long, black, and oily; Probably hasn’t been washed in weeks. Sunny closes her eyes for a moment, the sight bringing back way too many unwelcome memories. She peels off her jacket, wrapping it around the girl, and gently leads her out of the car and over to the dorm. The girl gives no resistance, used to being herded around. Sunny stops in front of Kang Ha, and looks down at the little girl.

“Sweetie, look at him. This is the last time you’ll have to look at his face, so if there is anything you want to say to him, say it now. You can say anything, even if it’s mean.” Sunny softly urges, pulling the girl in front of her and placing her hands on her shoulders.

There was a tense moment of silence as Kang Ha looked at the two of them in disgust, still being kept in place by a guard.

“Anything?” The girl finally whispers faintly.

Sunny squeezes her shoulders gently in encouragement. “Anything. It can be long, or short. Silly, mean, whatever you want to say. You won’t get in trouble for any of it.” She knows that’s what the girl was most likely afraid of. Speaking without being asked infuriated her Father and usually led to being smacked around.

Under her hands, Sunny could feel as the girl tensed up and prepared to speak. The girl looked straight into the eyes of Eom Kang Ha and spoke loud and clear for the first time.

“I hate you.”

Obviously, that had been the last of her courage, because she quickly turned around and buried her face into Sunny’s stomach.

Sunny and the auburn haired guard exchange glances, both of their eyes suspiciously moist. He shakes his head and turns angrily to her Father.

“As you see, we’ll be holding onto the girl and wait to see what the authorities say about all this. If you leave the area now, I won’t beat you to a fucking pulp and claim self-defense.”

Sunny snorts at that, and grins at her Father, who is now turning a dangerous color of red.

“Fuck all of this. Keep the brat. She doesn’t bring in that much anymore.” Kang Ha scoffs, and Sunny wants to bury a blade in his neck right there.

The guard that still has a hold on Kang Ha drags him to his car, opens the door, and throws him inside. He then stands guard and watches as the car speeds off, writing down the license plate and immediately calling the police. 

Sunny strokes the girl's hair, muttering assurances. When it’s all clear, she pulls the girl away a little and kneels down.

“Sweetie, he’s gone. You’re going to stay with me for now. You’re going to have to tell me your name though. I can’t have strangers in my house. Stranger danger.” Sunny jokes, trying to calm the girl.

“Mai Ri.” She giggles, looking at Sunny shyly from her curtain of unwashed hair.

“Mai Ri. What a pretty name. Did HE tell you who I was?” She asked, not surprised when Mai Ri shook her head no.

“I’m your big sister. Actually, you have two big sisters. I’m the oldest, and Mina is next. Oh WOW, she’s a middle child now. She’s going to LOVE that.” Sunny laughs, thinking of Mina’s expression when she learns she’s not the baby anymore.

“There are also five other Unnies here to watch out for you. You’ll never have to see HIM again. You won’t have appointments anymore. None of us will hit you. You are safe.”

Sunny watches as her message becomes understood, Mai Ri’s eyes clearing bit by bit.

“No more appointments?”

“No more appointments.”

Mai Ri’s eyes flood with tears and she flings herself at Sunny, crying into her shoulder. Sunny coos and rubs Mai Ri’s back. She lets her get it out, knowing just how much the girl needed it.

Sunny hears a throat being cleared and looks up. It’s the auburn haired security guard, smiling at the two of them.  

“You guys should probably head up. I’ll comb the area, make sure it’s safe, then talk to your manager for you. She’ll want to hear about this so we can decide what other security measures to take. We’ll want to pursue everything we can against him, yeah?” He asks, laughing when Sunny mouths FUCK YES over Mai Ri’s shoulder. 

“Should probably also get the little miss there some new clothes.” He smiles kindly at Mai Ri, who is now sniffling, peeking up at the guard. She stands up and walks directly in front of the guard.

“Mister. You helped save me. What’s your name?”

“I’m Kyu.”

Mai Ri nods her head. “Thank you, Kyu.”

Kyu chuckles, patting Mai Ri’s head. “You’re welcome, little fairy,”

Mai Ri smiles up at him, obviously liking the new nickname.

Sunny smiles at the scene, and thanks Kyu herself. She knows it was probably hard for Mai Ri to do that. She remembered it had taken her years before she would even shake hands with a man. 

She grabs Mai Ri’s little hand and leads her up the steps. She prayed in her head to whatever deity would listen that no one would stop them before she could get Mai Ri into the safety of the dorm. They make it successfully through the lobby, and up the elevator, not running into a single person. Finally, they are in front of the door that leads to Phoenix’s dorm.

“You ready?” Sunny looks down at Mai Ri, who quickly nods her head in the affirmative.

“Here we go!”

Sunny opens the door and sees all of Phoenix lounging in front of the television, snacking on popcorn and laughing while watching some cutesie anime. The scene warms Sunny’s heart and, for once, she actually feels like her nickname. 

She squeezes Mai Ri’s hand encouragingly and clears her throat. Everyone stops and looks at Sunny, gazes dropping in confusion to the girl next to her.

“Hey, Sunny, who’s your friend?” Rose asks, smiling at the girl, eyes roaming over every bruise.

“Everyone, meet Mai Ri.” Sunny looks over at Mina, who hasn’t stopped staring at the girl. They lock eyes, Mina’s confused gaze meeting Sunny’s.

“Our baby sister.”

[twopintsandaprayer]

i’m going to mainline some tylenol and forget that this whole afternoon existed

I see a therapist, like a real live person, at the beginning of may. I’m so utterly petrified that I’m going to say the wrong thing and undermine the help that I need. I wish, like I always do, like I have always, always wished that I knew the right thing to say and the right way to act. I need to be honest, and calm, and somehow condense my 20 plus years of medical history and my fucked-up family life into a succinct, half-hour session. I have to trust this person immediately, be open, be attentive. that’s ...a tall order. like I said, I’m petrified that I won’t say what I’m supposed to in order to make my case and I’ll be dropped from priority. I come across as....well, as not really that ill.  My psychiatrist called me defensive and combative. which I am. it’s not a pleasant trait but my god its firmly in there.  I’ve been living with depression since I was about 10 but it’s not...not very visible. It takes a very long time for that sadness to be apparent to someone else. It comes across as hostility and nihilistic humour, to be honest. I don’t like admitting it to myself, how deeply this combination of futility/self-loathing goes. It comes on like it’s never left. I think I failed my exam today. I’ve been contemplating dropping out of school completely because I don’t really see the point in continuing. the margin for error is so so small and I am unforgiving towards any mistakes when I could have tried so much harder. I don’t really know how to fight, you know? And it’s all so horrible, self-reinforcing. I know, point-blank, I have no reason to be like this. Yeah, emotional abuse from my father and my mother probably is autistic and is entirely too logical and judgmental for a fuck up like me as a daughter. also she was horribly horribly emotionally abused for like, a long ass time. - like I learned no coping skills or emotional regulation and I have like, negative self-worth and I have always been super super intense, childish, and the last to pick up on any emotional cues. that’s all pretty small stuff though, like everyone has a shitty childhood? my life has been pretty privileged, I cannot deny that at all. my psychiatrist keeps looking for trauma, reasons for me being like this. I don’t...really know how to explain to him that there’s no real reason, I’ve just always been this way. too loud, too close, too possessive, too needy, too young, too slow, too judgmental, too constantly seeking validation. Wholly, completely self-centered. Emotionally manipulative. I look into my memories and there is barely anything real, it’s all just a miasma of anxiety and talking over people. like, I don’t remember what things were like when I liked myself? I must have, at some point. I don’t remember when doing stuff didn’t fill me with fear, when the memories of good times weren’t tainted by my fuckups. And the constant, constant need to be liked, to have some kind of purpose, connection, something real. Some reason to keep getting up and putting myself through all this. The amount of friendships I have ruined or that have slipped through my fingers, or I have undervalued, or I have strained, just by being me. I never, ever, know it’s going to happen until it does. There’s an inevitability to it. I mean, my father was a lovely person, until you got to know him. He would give you the shirt off his back but he’d never, ever apologize for anything. We were all happier when he lived on a separate continent. IK mean, we talked all the time and we saw him a couple times a year. But the day to day living? That’s...that’s the kind of distance my presence requires. He knew he made us that unhappy. He was so terribly unhappy himself. He had plenty of reasons. I miss him a lot. We’re basically the same person. Unhappiness just kind of oozes out, infecting everyone around us. It’s hard to see at first. But it’s there. You feel it once you get to know me. 

How do I describe that to someone I don’t know? I can barely describe it to myself. I can barely type it without crying. How inevitable and ingrained this unhappiness is. And there’s no reason for it. It’s just...it’s like I’m missing something. Some piece of humanity that would make me real. That would make what I do sincere and normal. I know I have an issue with boundaries. I know I come across way way way way too much way too quickly.  It’s been a constant refrain since I was about 10: if only I didn’t need people, I would be all right. I don’t know what I’ve done until after the fact, until its too late. Needless, endless apologies should be my tagline. 

it’s just so horribly lonely. I’m so tired of being alone. I’m constantly trapped by and surrounded by my own self-hatred. It’s so cliche it makes me sick of myself. I don’t have any reason to be this hard on myself. I don’t have any reason to be this depressed. I can barely qualify as having depression. I just ...don’t see any point? Of living? Of trying?  I don’t remember what it was like not to feel this way. I don’t think I was ever normal. 

it’s this constant struggle of ‘I have a mental illness’ and ‘no i’m just lazy and entitled and I don’t want to do the work I just want perfect results’ and ‘I don’t have a legitimate reason to be this way’ and ‘I really cannot handle this for another second’. My whole family is the type to say they’re fine when they are literally crying their eyes out/in severe amounts of pain/ready to collapse/at their limits. everything’s fine, fine, fine, always fine. 

i do know that in the end, the only one who can save me is me. i just don’t really see any reason to. Like, I keep grasping at straws? I can’t kill myself though, I can’t do that to my mother or my brother. The thought of living for another 40 years (I mean, my diabetic complications will probably get me sooner than that) just feels me with dread and exhaustion though. The primary reason I don’t want to have kids (other than medical, cause I’m on too much medication that’s rough on a fetus) is because I don’t want to be resentful towards my kid for having to stay alive for them. Who can I say that to? How horrible does that make me sound? What a fucking load of shite, I’m so full of it. For some stupid reason, I thought things would just be better? I thought being on meds, and having a stable life, and being back at school after fucking it up so badly the first time, that I’d be better? 

It’s a wasteland, though. The space between not wanting to live and not being able to die. It takes such constant effort to keep all my shit in check. everythin just spilling out everywhere. 

But I’m just...like this. This is just the way that I am. I’m so sick of myself. I can’t fully put it into words how much I hate myself. All these opportunities and possibilities and a life that’s been free of trauma and responsibilities, and I’m just ...kind of a waste? A big ole burden on my family and friends? It’s...the weight of that makes it hard to breathe. It makes it really hard to try to do anything and it’s so fucking stupid. Just this big old cycle of never ending uselessness. I don’t really believe I can do anything. Everything, friendships, communication, school work, organizing shit, engaging with things, meeting up with friends, keeping my life together. All of it is ...more than I’m really able to handle. Everything’s a bit too much? Like i was supposed to tell my bank that I’m a student by november. I got the letter and everything. 

I just never went with it to the bank. 

Still haven’t. 

Thats such a microcosm for my life. All the materials, all the ability, all the chances, all the ducks lined up in a row and then...nothing. Just a disappointment and a missed chance. 

I can’t believe I’m 32. Nothing but my own self-hatred to keep me company from here on it.  Well. And my cats. I am though, a bad cat owner. keeping these hellbeasts inside is more than I am capable of. Haha, that’s pretty low on the priority list though. 

This is the work that I need to do. I don’t have a clue how to approach it. That’s what I need help with. Finding something to hold on too. It’s getting harder and harder as I get older. It shouldn’t, because my life is actually so much better now that it was. The bad stuff just gets harder and harder to walk back from. I think it’s the loneliness? I wish I wasn’t so horribly horribly lonely. My choices are always, do it alone or don’t do anything at all. Reach out and be rejected. Reach out and panic when someone reaches back. Reach out and alienate the person forever. Reach out and be told it was not my place. Fail, again and again to differentiate. Fail, again and again to learn. 

anyway. Tylenol. sleep. one more week of exams. 

my marks are going to be so horrible this year. 

[theworstbob]

the thing journal, 2.26-3.4

as a) part of an effort to get me to be a more consistent writer, but also b) to get me to stop watching so much fucking mario maker-related content b.1) and also maybe stop listening to the same fucking playlist on shuffle when i ride the bus home, i have a new goal where i try to watch/hear/play seven new things a week and write at least a little bit about what i’ve done. try to get into a routine where i spend x amount of time with a thing, x amount of time writing, and maybe not looking on youtube for new dudes playing mario maker, y’know? it’s like, i love movies. before last week, i had seen three films that had been released since the start of 2016. so i guess c) be a better fucking citizen of the world. i might move this to medium or facebook, i might move all the non-shitpost stuff to medium at some point honestly, why do i have three different blogs, but we’re doin’ this here for now.

1) Sausage Party: this film is insultingly stupid. i already yelled at it, but ye gods. there is a moment in the film where, when the antagonist makes an unexpected arrival, one of the characters said, “Oh, fuck!” and if in any other movie, this might have been a nice moment, a character reacting to something unexpected by blurting out what one would blurt out on such an occasion, but in this movie, it felt like they just didn’t bother coming up with an actual joke.

2) Zootopia: i did a double-feature with sausage party and this, which is a very weird thing to have done that also might have impacted my opinion, but man, after slogging through Sausage Party, it was such a breath of fresh air to watch a film people put effort into making. even after divorcing it from that context, though, it is still handily the best buddy-cop movie about a bunny rabbit and a fox taking on racism that i’ve ever seen. it’s adorable. i’m not gonna put it in the pantheon of animated classics, not when there’s an extended monologue about how bad racism is from... shakira? for some reason?, but i do have to own up to the fact that, hey, maybe this movie wasn’t meant for my pantheon! i think this film set its ceiling at “the emperor’s new groove for budding social justice warriors,” but there are films with less noble aims, and this is totally a budding social justice warrior’s favorite film right now! and that’s really dope, that they have a movie! that sounds backhanded. i honestly loved this film. like, i saw emperor’s new groove when i was 11, and if there’s kids out there who’re gonna spend the next 16 years thinking about and loving this movie, the world’s gonna be in good hands. (also: the nudist colony scene. gold.)

3) Sing Street: this is for all the people that wished Freaks & Geeks had done a musical episode. this movie has so many things that i like. soaring musical numbers! lovable side characters! almost no plot! unbearable sadness! realistic teen drama! accurate depiction of a lower-class family! this isn’t a perfect movie. i think the central love story is brilliantly done, and they really nail the family stuff, but they stop giving everyone else in the band things to do after the characters’ introductions, and they didn’t set up the bully or the priest well enough as antagonists for their respective comeuppances to have any payoff. (everything at the school feels just a tad undercooked. like they had this epic love tale they wanted to tell, but then were like, “Ah, shite, can’t have 15-year-olds bugger off from school all the time, can we?” like at least let us know how the rest of the band feels about their lead singer and lyricist taking off for london all a sudden!) but man, when this film gets in its groove, it /waits a million millennia for it/ sings

4) Mad Love, JoJo: so the opening track, “Music,” is maybe one of my favorite opening tracks of the music year 2016. I don’t think I like this album half as much without it. On its face, it’s kinda cheeseball, just a girl ‘n a piano singin’ ‘bout how much she loves music. It’s a risky move, but she sells the hell out of the song, and because that track is so successful, each subsequent track is imbued with an undeniable joy, because you know, at the core of each song, there’s just a young woman doing the thing she loves the most. It lends each song a certain authenticity, like there’s no ‘tude being copped (or whatever kids these days say), this is JoJo’s music. I had a real good bus ride with this one. (And not for nothing, after miring myself in the Yellin’ at Songs project, I’m grateful for a pop singer who acknowledges that sex is a fun thing to have, and is direct about her desire to enjoy a sexual encounter. "Edibles” would be amazing even if I hadn’t endured multiple selections from the 50 Shades of Grey soundtrack, but as this is the case, got DAMN do I appreciate “Edibles.”)

5) The Big Short: the narration in this movie is so phenomenal. like, they establish from the jump that the narrator is a jerk (“i didn’t hang out with those nerds. i was cool.” or whatever he actually says), so when he starts saying, “Look, some of these terms are gonna go right over your heads, so here’s a hottie in a bubble bath to help you dum dums out for a second,” it’s in character. i absolutely loved that. (also, i, um, i did need to hear the explanation of the terms used in this film. “don’t you work with mortgages?” i don’t know what they do, i only know how to look at them.) i also really loved the scene where the narrator is trying to get steve carell to make the bet, and he has this jenga set up to explain what’s happening with the bonds, and he takes a jenga piece out, but before he throws it away, he asks his assistant to point out where the garbage can was so he didn’t miss. that’s a nice touch. (adam mckay’s good at comedy! weird, right!) also i loved that the hedge fund dudes from boulder moved to new york and had a table which tilted. that’s such a good prop, like these dudes have $30m but they’re still living with a table that tilts, which establishes both that they’re small fish and that they’re also not quite sure what they’re doing. such a solid film.

6) Telefone, Noname: so real talk i didn’t give this the closest listen in the world. my phone lost connection in the middle of track four, and a drunk man had to give me life advice during track nine. maybe it’s not the best idea to try to listen to album with a semi-open critical mind while bussing, but i still really dug this album and would not mind giving it a second, deeper listen, because it deserves multiple spins. i’m really stoked to see what this woman can do on a full-length album, there was a lot to love in what i was able to pay full attention to.

7) It Follows: Y’all. Y’all. This film. THIS GODDAMN FILM, Y’ALL. After the first scene, which ends with a girl disconnected from the main plot dismembered on a beach, I was ready to tout the charms of YA Hannibal, but the deeper I got, the more I understood the disservice such a comparison would do to this film. This is its own gorgeous, brilliant thing. The way it steeps itself in silence is so, ugh, I wish that the central concept didn’t require dialogue to explain, because this would’ve been such a cool silent film. Like. When I think about movies, I try not to think about the acting too much because I know I’m not gonna have any interesting observations about it, but the performances here are just off-the-charts. Just the way the nebbish nerdy boy looks every time he thinks about offering help and what that would mean for his future and his friendships, or the sheer desperation in the main girl’s eyes every time the It gets kind of close, it’s just, I don’t know how to describe it, it’s a film executed superbly, almost masterfully. I keep thinking about the scene where the main girl looks out over the lake at the bro-party boat, and she’s taking off her clothes to go swimming, but her face is somehow blank and terrified at the same time, and her motions are so tentative and rigid, it’s, THIS FILM. IT’S. The thematic content alone! Gosh, I just, I need to find all the pieces people wrote about this film in 2014 when they were excited about it and just dig in, there’s so much to analyze and discuss about the things this film is saying about sex, about gender, about rape culture, about victim-blaming, about abuse, about SO MUCH. This might be my second-favorite horror movie of all time. (No Country for Old Men is a horror movie, don’t @ me.) It’s just so unbelievably good.

8) The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild: This might count toward the Seven Things list next week, seeing as I’m only like six hours deep into this game, but simply moving from Point A to Point B is more fun and creative than half the games I’ve ever played. Honestly, if all I ever do with this game is treat it as Parkour Simulator 2017, I’ma be happy with my purchase. The Wind Waker was heretofore my favorite Zelda, but with every single step I take in this world, I get angrier that The Wind Waker put you on a boat and then... you sailed? You had a jump button on the boat, but that was basically all you did, was point your boat at where the game told you to go, put down the controller, and made a sandwich while you reached your destination. But I shouldn’t come to this space to bury other games, I should rejoice in what we have, and Breath of the Wild is my favorite game since Undertale. I love this game, and I can’t wait to find the first dungeon!