#you lean into this beliefs and ideas and ''new views'' because they are convincing to you

[elistodragonwings]

Please don't let focus on the fossil fuel industry overshadow the other major player in US climate denial, far-right Evangelical Christianity.

They'd been fighting against science and science education for decades because advances in our scientific understanding evolution, geology, archeology, and human biology contradicts their religious beliefs about the origin of the world. They had also long been anti-environmentalist, believing that it was anti-human to claim the natural world had inherent value outside of it's use to us. Climate change, whether natural or human-caused, was another ideological threat to their belief that God was in control of everything.

By the time climate science came to the public's attention in the late 90s-early 2000s, creationist had already made frightening success in gutting science education in large parts of the country, either through not teaching certain topics or intimidating teachers who tried. They didn't even necessarily have to invoke their religious beliefs, just create doubt around the scientific process and science's certainty. It was not hard for them to expand this strategy to now cover climate change as well.

Combine that with the fact that unlike the other areas of science they challenged, this one called for action, and right around 9/11 too, when Americans had already developed a paranoia that everywhere were people trying to undermine and destroy our way of life, and you now have outright political hostility at the idea that this was real and required us to do something.

The fossil fuel industry worked from the top down, influencing policy-makers, but Evangelicals worked from the bottom up, convincing many Americans to view science as politically motivated, vote for climate deniers, fight against local policies, and disbelieve the predictions scientist were making that are now coming true.

Even as fewer and fewer people can deny it's happening, this legacy still has an impact today. When people in the US argue that climate change is natural and thus not human-caused, that is a relatively new argument and the natural evolution of the doubt and lack of understanding of science that Evangelicals built. When people misunderstand environmental studies of both climate and solution impacts, this is because of that anti-science legacy. When people recognize it's all true, but don't have a full awareness of how all these ecological and geological systems are interconnected and what that means for the world as a whole, this is Evangelical's fault. (If you are one of those increasingly-rare left-leaning Evangelicals, please don't tell me "not all Christians." I know. This isn't about you, and unfortunately, you're not the majority, regardless of who may be more or less correct in their Biblical interpretations.)

[non-binharry]

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[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[13uswntimagines]

Things *Good* Alphas Do (Alpha!Becky x Alpha!Alyssa x Omega!Reader)

Request: Alpha Alyssa and Alpha Becky/ Omega reader where she’s newer to the team and really shy, especially around alphas and Becky and Alyssa come up with elaborate plans to spend time with her (with the teams help) and omega reader slowly falls for them especially when they protect her from a push alpha when they’re out somewhere?

Alyssa watched you from across the bar. Tracking every movement you made as you ordered your drink next to Mal. The other omega was leaning heavily on you, and she made a mental note to give Rose a heads up. 

The team paid little attention to her protective stare, more than used to her and Becky’s possessive (but carefully restrained) behavior around you. They understood the delicateness of your situation. 

You weren’t just shy, that much had been overwhelmingly obvious since you had joined the team about six months ago. When you first arrived, you were skidding beyond belief, flinching every time an alpha so much as looked in your direction. Even around the two women who were destined to be your mates. 

It was a slow process but the omega’s on the team had eventually gained your trust, and in turn began their plan to get you to accept your alphas. 

*****

Attempt 1 - one month in

Christen was the first person you trusted. Her quiet, calm nature resonated with you and you found that her alpha, Tobin’s, chill vibes didn’t set off warning bells in your brain. 

You loved hanging out with her (the team joked that you followed her around like a puppy for those first weeks), and morning Yoga together had quickly become an integral part of your routine. You didn’t like it when people messed with your routines. 

“I didn’t know you two did yoga,” You mumbled, raising your eyebrows at the two alphas shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. 

“We wanted to try something new if that’s ok with you?” Becky asked hesitantly, reaching out to carefully run a hand down your arm. 

“We thought it would be a good way to enjoy the view,” Alyssa shrugged, the only indication she was nervous of your answer was her worrying her lip between her teeth. 

You glanced worriedly at Christen. You had come to look forward to yoga. It helped you to relax and center yourself before having to deal with the craziness of the team. 

She nodded encouragingly at you, a small smile playing on her lips as she released a bit of her soothing scent (your alphas did too, but at a much lower rate- afraid that overwhelming you with pheromones wouldn’t work well in their favor). 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, our routine isn’t too complicated,” 

“And they’re going to be over here by me,” Tobin added, gesturing towards two yoga mats a little ways away from the ones you and Christen were going to use. 

You were pretty ok around Becky and Alyssa (your inner omega definitely recognized them as her mates), but no one wanted to push you too fast too soon. You eyed the spot Tobin had pointed to and your alphas respectively. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, it was just that the previous alphas in your life hadn’t made you feel confident that they would treat you as an equal. That they wouldn’t push you to accept them before you were ready too. 

“We respect your boundaries y/n,” Becky said softly, her finger still rubbing your arm, her soothing scent getting just a little bit stronger. The lines for what you and your inner omega were comfortable with were set, and neither alpha was going to overstep it. 

“We just wanna be close to you,” Alyssa added, equally as soft. 

You paused, looking for any hint of dishonesty (unaware of the apprehensiveness leaking through your fledgling bond to your alphas). 

You nodded when you didn’t find any. “You can do yoga with us,” you smirked, feeding off of the excitement they were sending your bond“if you can keep up that is,”

Tobin cackled at your sudden surge of confidence and the wide eyes of your mates. They hadn’t gotten the chance to see your sassy side yet, and she knew that they were going to have their hands full. 

“Let’s get started then,” Christen laughed. This was going to be a fun morning. (And if Tobin got to watch your alphas fall all over themselves to get you to feel comfortable around them, then this was going to be a fun courtship to watch). 

*****

Attempt 2- 3 months in

“I wasn’t built for this,” Alyssa huffed as her head popped back above the water, whipping the hair from her face and clinging onto her surfboard for dear life. 

“And you think I was?” Becky grumbled, paddling over to her alpha mate, while still trying to keep an eye on their omega who was heading out past the breakers with Kelley in hopes of catching another massive wave. 

You had taken a long time to warm up to the feisty omega (you were still incredibly hesitant around her rambunctious blond alpha). They were happy that the omega’s on the team were starting to really crack your shell. It helped that most of them were into the same crazy activities you were. 

The team was trying to take advantage of your love of surfing as a way to help your alphas bond with you, but it wasn’t exactly going to plan. No one had accounted for the fact that neither of your alphas was particularly good on a surfboard, or in the water for that matter. So they had spent the majority of the day watching as you, Kelley, Tobin, and Alex had basically swum circles around them. 

“Looks like you two got yourselves a daredevil for a mate,” Emily snorted, coming up beside them. Her watchful eye never left where her mate was moving next to you. 

The two of you had a knack for finding trouble, but she hoped that didn’t extend to the waves. 

“I don’t know how you all do this,” Alyssa huffed, finally pulling herself up on her board. 

Emily shrugged with a giggle. It was hilarious the lengths your alphas went to spend time with you. “Lots of practice my friend. At least you have more patience than the rest of us,” 

Becky and Alyssa shared a look as you paddled after a giant wave. It seemed that you were definitely going to give them a run for their money. When you were more comfortable and you had finally accepted them as your mates, they were going to have to set some boundaries for sure. 

“I didn’t know she had it in her,” Ashlyn cackled, joining the group watching the two omega’s shred that monster wave. 

Your alphas jaws dropped in awe, excitement and pride surged both ways through your (slightly stronger) fledgling bond. 

“We might wanna duck dive,” Emily mumbled just before she disappeared into the water. 

“What?” Becky asked, glancing at Ashlyn who also dove under. She turned back towards Alyssa, her eyes widening when she saw the giant wave coming right for them. 

Alyssa’s gaze followed hers, 

“fuck” she hissed, just as the force of the wave took them, tossing them around like socks in a washing machine. Their boards flew out from under them in the watery barrage but surprisingly didn’t become untethered from their ankles. 

Both alphas made it back to the surface with minimal sputtering, dragging themselves the rest of the way inland. They were very much done for the day, but it appeared you weren’t. 

Your head popped up above the water with a huge grin on your face. Kelley’s wasn’t too far behind you. The two of you shared several words before hopping on your boards and heading back out through the surf to do it all again. 

The alphas shook their heads. 

“We need to convince her that cuddles and movies are just as good,” Becky grumbled, and Alyssa nodded in return. The yoga was hard, but at least it hadn’t almost killed them. Hopefully, whatever plan the team came up with next didn’t involve more extreme sports. 

*****

Attempt 3- 6 months in 

You stood there with your arms crossed, glaring daggers at the two alphas in front of you. You were sure they could feel the frustrated pheromones rolling off you, and your agitation leaking through your evergrowing bond. 

You were fairly comfortable with the women who you knew were your mates, but you weren’t quite ready to take the leap and admit your feelings. You also weren’t really fond of this little surprise they had sprung on you for your team-bonding night seating arrangements. 

Every seat in the hotel room was taken except for the one in between your mates on one of the queen size beds. 

“Are we going to pretend that you two didn’t plan this?” You growled at the alphas, who were shrinking back into the bed. 

“We didn’t!” They exclaimed, Becky, holding her hands up in surrender while Alyssa seemed to tuck into herself (which was completely hilarious because of how big she was). They both released a little bit of their scents (along with several members of the team), hoping to appease your very unamused inner omega. 

“Well, it’s one hell of a coinkydink that the only open seat is between you,” You huffed, not buying the innocent act they were playing up. 

Your alphas sent a pleading look towards the ringleader of this particular attempt, “They had nothing to do with this short stack. It was all Sammy’s idea,” Kelley shrugged. 

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed at the same time Mal giggled out a “Right under the bus,” 

You glared at the omega’s who had become your friends over the past several camps. “You all need to stop meddling,” 

Kelley rolled her eyes. You were utterly adorable when you were trying to be grumpy (Kelley was sure your alphas would agree- if the looks they were giving you were anything to go by). “Yeah, yeah. Just sit down already,” she said, kicking your butt from her place cuddling into Emily on the other bed. 

You tipped forward, landing in Becky’s lap with a huff. She steadied your shoulders as you scrambled from her lap (ignoring the way your inner omega preened at the attention). 

“You alright darling?” Alyssa asked, watching carefully as you wiggled in between them into a more comfortable position. 

“Mm fine,” You mumbled, sighing when you finally found a comfortable position (completely ignoring the fact that it had you pressing into Alyssa’s taller frame). She smiled indulgently at you, slowly working her arm behind both you and Becky to make herself a more comfortable pillow for you. 

Becky’s hand came up to rub soothing circles on your arm, working her way very slowly up your shoulder and towards your neck. You hummed lightly, sinking further into Alyssa. 

You couldn’t help how relaxed you were around the women. How absolutely safe you felt. Your eyes slowly dropped shut. You guessed the warmth of your mates (the soothing pheromones they were releasing) was causing your exhaustion to finally catch up with you. But you still didn’t want to fall asleep. It would make you a perfect target for a joke from the other youngins. 

“Just relax, we’ll take care of you,” Alyssa whispered into your hair, placing a very sweet kiss on your temple. 

“Promise?” You asked, quaking an eyebrow. They had gained your trust over the last six months, but you still needed to make sure before you let go completely. 

“Always,” Becky nodded. You hummed in agreement, finally giving in to the pull of sleep, confident that your alphas would ward off any unwanted pranks. 

*****

You were having the best time ever. You were never really a fan of bars or dancing, but here with the rest of your team, you were having a blast. 

Mal leaned heavily into your side “How do you do it?” She asked, her words still clear despite how many margaritas she’d had. 

“Do what?” Your eyebrows furrowing. You had no idea where this conversation was going, but if the shift in pheromones was anything, it wasn’t going to be a place you wanted to actually talk about. 

“Resist the urge to mate for so long,” Mal snorted, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You felt heat flood your cheeks, traveling all the way up to your neck towards your ears. You didn’t have a lot of good experiences with alphas, and in the beginning, the quiet stillness of your mates had unnerved you. You wondered when they would drop the calm and patient act and try to take what they believed was theirs. 

Over time, you learned that they never would. They would never cross a boundary you weren’t comfortable conceding. You learned how to trust them, how to finally let yourself begin to lean into the feelings your inner omega so strongly believed in. You were getting closer and closer to finally being ready for them, it had just taken you longer than most (something your alphas assured you they were fine with). 

“I-... I don’t,” You stuttered, but it seemed like Mal didn’t even realize your internal spiraling. 

“I was barely able to hold out for a week with Rosie. We met and it was like bang- insta-heat,” she rambled on leaning in very close to your ear, her head lolling to the side on your shoulder. “they love you, you love them, so what’s the holdup?” 

You sighed. You did love them, and your inner omega yearned to finally take them as your mates, but it was just so overwhelming. You didn’t want your relationship to be dictated by instincts, but you wouldn’t deny that you were slowly falling for the women who had worked their way into your heart. 

“I’m trying to get-...” You started, only to get interrupted by a new presence right over your shoulder. 

“Hey ladies, what are two little omegas doing here by their little lonesome,” He said, flashing you what you assumed was his most charming smile as he pumped out his cloying scent. 

Your nose wrinkled involuntarily- his calling pheromones were absolutely disgusting to the earthy sweetness your mates sometimes used to help you calm yourself down. 

“We’re not alone. Thanks,” You mumbled, pulling Mal tighter to you. She may act like your protector for the most part, but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t step up.

The alpha chuckled, stepping closer to you and placing an unwanted hand on your arm. “Oh contrare. You can’t fool me with that omega on omega shit,”

More of his disgusting scent pressed over you, calling for your submission. You steeled yourself, fighting against the urge. You had raced worse on the soccer pitch from opponents far more dominant than this duchbag. He didn’t deserve the honor of your submission. 

“Don’t touch me,” You growled, staring him defiantly in the eyes and shrugging his grip off your arm. 

His lips twitched as though he was amused by your defiance. “Come on baby, quit playing so hard to get,” he said, his hand returning just a little bit higher on your arm. You winced at the tight hold, opening your mouth to respond, only to be cut off from a low and dangerous growl from behind the man. “I believe she said to let go,” Alyssa said.

“Now!” Becky added, and it felt like something in your chest loosened. Their pheromones drowned out his scent, wrapping around you like the world’s softest blanket. Like everything would be alright now that they were here. 

The alpha smirked and shot a low growl back at the two enraged alphas. “Whoa, calm down. She’s just playing a little hard to get. Now get lost, I was here first,” 

Becky stepped forward, gripping the alpha’s forearm so tightly you were sure his bones were straining under the stress. “You will take your hand off our mate before we remove it for you,” She rumbled, the sound resonating in her chest, as Alyssa stepped in between you and the alpha, acting as a shield. 

“Fuck you guys,” The alpha hissed, finally letting go of you and storming off to go harass some other omega’s. 

That when you noticed everything was shaking, or maybe it was you that was shaking? At some point during the exchange, Rose had come to retrieve Mal, dragging her away from the cloud of angry and dominant pheromones. 

Alyssa turned and pulled you inter her arms, and you buried your face in her chest. Becky hugged you from behind, encapsulating you in their warmth and protection. 

“You alright, babydoll?” Becky asked as Alyssa started to purr to soothe you. 

“Hmm, just hold me,” You hummed, your omega finally calming down. The arms of your alphas tightened around you. You were safe with them, and they would always be there for you. You knew that. 

“Always darling,”

[lynkhart]

MAJOR spoilers for the C2 finale of Critical Role so read at your own risk of you haven’t caught up!

I have so many feelings regarding Caleb and Essek’s intertwining character arcs I needed to explore, so strap in folks, you’re in for a bit of a ride! (But seriously though, this is like 4000 words long, I basically wrote an essay 😂)

At the start of the campaign, Caleb Widogast was dripping in guilt and self loathing and refused to believe he could ever absolve himself of his sins. Essek Thelyss was a cold, aloof individual who betrayed his people for selfish goals, and their differing yet mirrored narratives have been an absolute delight to watch unfold.

In the beginning Caleb truly hated himself. He shot down any attempt at a compliment, described himself as a ‘disgusting person’, outright rejected the idea that he was worthy of love, and never let the blame shift from him for what he’d done. When Beauregard and Veth/Nott pointed out that he was coerced and manipulated into killing his parents, he reacts in an incredibly visceral way, and I’ve seen several comments likening it to a victim of child abuse who was groomed into believing they were as responsible as their abuser, and I think that’s exactly how it was meant to be read. He doesn’t see himself as a victim, only a murderer, and punishes himself for it every day. We see this in the way he presents himself, dirty and unkempt because in his mind he doesn’t deserve to feel good about himself in any way. Other than Nott/Veth and Beau to a certain degree, he purposefully isolates himself from the rest of the group and it’s a long time until he feels relaxed enough in their company to drop his defences a little.

(Speaking from a purely meta point of view, Liam did an absolutely phenomenal job of showing this through body language and I’d love to see someone do a compilation video of it. He starts off very hunched and guarded, leaning his body away from the closest person to him and avoiding eye contact and physical touch; but by the end stands tall and sure of himself.)

Early on there were a few moments where he had the option to do some pretty dark shit, and I’m sure there’s a possible timeline where he gave into his desire for revenge and really lost his way, but I’m glad he stuck it out and worked through his trauma in the way he did. His PTSD and disassociation when casting with fire was tragic, but over time he was able to work through it thanks to the constant love and support of his friends who kept him from going off at the deep end.

Molly’s death was the catalyst for change in a lot of the party, and Caleb is no exception. On the verge of leaving the group prior to his death, the grief they shared, combined with their frantic attempt to rescue the other half of their party put things in perspective and gradually he learned how to be a person again, to care.

Altering time to save his family had been Caleb’s only goal in life, and so when Essek and by extension, dunamancy was introduced, you could see his eyes light up at the possibilities.

A huge turning point for him is aligned so closely with Essek’s redemption arc which feels quite apt I think. When Essek confesses to his crimes, Caleb delivers a beautifully iconic piece of dialogue where he acknowledges their similarities and how much he himself has changed as a person since meeting the Mighty Nein. (Source - CR wiki)

‘You listen to me. I know what you are talking about. I know. And the difference between you and I is thinner than a razor. I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes. And I was like you. Was. I know what a fool I have been for years. You didn't account for us. Good. That is life. Shit hits you sideways in life and no one is prepared. No one is ready. These people changed me. These people can change you. You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it. You have a rare opportunity here, Thelyss. One chance to save yourself, and we are offering it.’

This is not the same Caleb we met back in the Nestled Nook inn way back in the first episode. While not yet fulfilled or entirely convinced of his own worth, he knows he’s on the right path. That alone is progress enough, but that he uses his own experiences to help another escape those same chains of guilt says such a lot for his development. When he tells Essek that his ‘venom’ was learned, he’s also talking about himself and his own history of being manipulated and gaslit, with the implication being that it can be un-learned just as efficiently.

Caleb Widogast is selfish no more, or at the very least, doesn’t let his goals undermine anyone else’s anymore. Contrary to what he himself might still think, he is in no way a bad person. He loves fiercely and cannot abide seeing those he cares about in pain.

Early game Essek is what Caleb could have been if he’d rejected his friends and focused solely on his own selfish goal to undo his mistakes. Both are impassive at first and see the Mighty Nein as means to an end...until they get to know them and then their fate is sealed. The Power of Friendship wins once again!

At the beginning Caleb said he wanted to ‘bend reality to my will’ (sic) and in the end he does just that, though not in the way he originally intended. Destroying the T-Dock, and by extension the one thing he’d been building towards from the start, the chance to go back and change time, for me personally was the absolute peak of his journey. I rewatched the scene where Caleb revealed the truth about his parents death today, and it was really jarring to see just how far he’d come since then. It made me oddly proud actually.

I always felt like his plan to save his parents was the one thing holding him back from truly accepting their deaths, which is why the final scene of him in the cemetery with the letters for them hit so hard. He never truly gave up hope that they’d be reunited, but ultimately he realised he was merely postponing the inevitable and never allowing himself to live his own life. While time travel shenanigans would have been incredibly interesting to explore in game, choosing to let the past lie and not go back for them finally allows him to grieve and move on, and perhaps most importantly of all, to forgive himself at last.

I know some people were annoyed by Caleb’s decision in the finale to spend the rest of his life teaching rather than continuing to adventure, but I see it as the natural conclusion to his whole arc and his own personal victory.

He looked Trent Ikithon in the eyes, a man who he’d spent years wanting to kill and run from in equal measure, stripped him of his power and his voice (and ultimately his ability to harm anyone else) and finally spared his life so he had to live with the indignity of his defeat for the rest of his miserable existence. You couldn’t have asked for a more damning rejection of everything he’d been brainwashed into believing as a child. His dismissal of Trent’s position in the Assembly played into that as well. He never really wanted power for the sake of it; he had no desire for politics, he just wanted his family back, and while he didn’t get the one he started with, he made a new one for himself in the end.

As Caduceus once very wisely said:

‘Pain doesn’t make people; it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential; it's love that saves them.’

Caleb gets to break the cycle of abuse and teach a new generation of mages the way he should have been, with kindness and respect, and I’m pretty sure he’d have introduced a handsome drow as a guest lecturer from time to time. 😉

Speaking of...

Essek described himself as selfish and as a coward, forever putting his own wants and desires first, yet over the course of his journey with the Nein we see his priorities change drastically.

Having friends gives him people to care about, something he’s never had before, and it changes his outlook on life completely. For me, the first time we really see this is when he joins them for dinner in the Xorhaus and stops levitating. It’s a subtle thing, but meaningful. He explains that it had become an expectation of him, a quirk he’s known for, and so to feel comfortable enough around the Nein to drop that pretence is quite bold I think.

Much later, when he chooses to destroy the mini beacon they discover in Aeor in order to give everyone a long rest before the final confrontation with Lucian, he’s essentially giving up everything he betrayed his people for, just to keep his friends safe. The existence and context of that single artefact could have had an earthshattering impact on the Dynasty’s entire culture, forcing them to reevaluate their entire belief system and attitude to the Luxon, something he’d wanted from the start, something he helped start a war for, but he offered it up as a sacrifice without a second thought.

I’d say that’s a pretty big morality shift, and I’m super interested to see if Matt reveals if his alignment changed in the post campaign Q&A. I have a feeling he set him up as a potential BBEG but the party was like ‘no, you can’t have him, he’s ours now’ and that was the end of that. 😂

I think it says so much about the other characters too, that they befriended this person they barely knew, and when he was revealed to have done such terrible things, their first reaction was to give him comfort and an opportunity to atone. Jester held his hand while he confessed, and afterwards, while they didn’t immediately forgive him, they saw the good in him and wanted him to be better, which ultimately feels like what the entire campaign was about, leaving places (and people) better than they found them. It’s obvious that he’s never really had many friends before and has therefore never had the opportunity to be emotionally open with anyone, so seeing him gradually warm up to the Nein and allow himself to soften around them was really lovely to watch.

(Obviously, from a realistic moral perspective, he still fucked up big time. He’s still a godsdamned war criminal and really should have been put on trial for what he did, but I think from a narrative and personal point of view, his redemption arc was far more satisfying, so I’m glad it happened the way it did. (And not to derail but the rest of the gang have done some pretty horrific stuff as well, though perhaps not quite on the same scale)

He has a few moments towards the end that I absolutely love because they show that beneath the guilt and anguish, there’s an incredibly sweet and sensitive soul in there, just wanting acceptance. His dry jokes which often don’t quite hit, (the ‘I will punish the bakery’ line is such an under-appreciated one 😂) his simple joy at learning to garden in the Blooming Grove, and realising that he’d never been asked what his favourite food was before was actually kind of heartbreaking, because it highlighted how lonely his life must have been until that time. There was a moment pretty early on I think when he cast disguise on the party and Jester asked if he could cast it again to change the look of her outfit a bit and while he seemed to find it amusing, he refused, not wanting to waste a spell on such a frivolous request. Cut to their time in Aeor where he burns a fly spell just so he and Caleb can flirtatiously swoop around each other for a couple of minutes, all the while trying to beat Lucian to the city.

His breakdown when Molly’s resurrection failed really cemented to me how much he’d grown as a character. He never met Molly, his only knowledge of him was secondhand, through the eyes of his friends, but seeing it fail just broke him because he knew how much it hurt them to go through it all over again.

His comment to Caleb about not admitting defeat and wishing he could do more did get me wondering at the time if he was going to try and do something crazy, perhaps sacrificing himself via the Temporal Dock to make amends or somehow forcing another reroll, but I’m glad he didn’t. The conversation following that with Fjord was one of my favourites- he shows him acceptance and belief in his potential for the future, something he’s lacked for a long time, and when Caleb bluntly affirms afterwards that he is indeed an official member of the Mighty Nein, it’s the start of the rest of his life, and something he’s exceptionally grateful for.

It all leads to that final moment in Aeor with Caleb, when, presented with the opportunity to alter time and undo everything, he chooses to accept his decisions and carry the weight of his sins for the rest of his long life. That’s...huge.

He’s essentially choosing to live the rest of his existence as a fugitive, forever on the run, with no guaranteed peace or safety. He chooses to spend his life making up for his deeds, rather than looking for an easy way out.

I think that may have had a big impact on why Caleb ultimately made the same decision, as if Essek had been up for altering his timeline I think he’d have struggled to resist it himself. The conversation they had earlier in Aeor about their priorities and resisting temptation really comes to mind as well.

Now, to the relationship.

It was subtle, and not as ‘in your face’ obvious as the other characters, but I’ve been watching and hoping for a long time and I must say, it feels good to be vindicated.

(And if you have any doubt, both Matt and Liam confirmed on Twitter that their post finale relationship was 100% romantic)

I’d been hoping that Shadowgast would be a canon endgame relationship for a while, so the finale, and the aforementioned T-Dock scene in particular had me quite literally shaking with emotion as I watched live. Here you have two men, both damaged and guilt-stricken in their own ways, who find in each other a kindred spirit and a path to redemption.

They’re both very guarded and closed off people, but Essek in particular has a definite shift in the last arc of the campaign especially when it came to his interactions with Caleb. At the start he was quite aloof and stoic, though charming, and they had an instant connection through their shared love of the arcane, (anyone who couldn’t see them making heart eyes at each other when Essek was describing the different types of magic he could teach Caleb was clearly blind) but by the end he was incredibly open to showing his vulnerabilities and that takes a lot, especially for someone whose primary focus was to stay in control of every aspect of his life. The ‘Caleb, I’m scared’ moment during the Trent fight in particular made my heart ache.

No, we didn’t get a dramatic declaration of love or a cinematic mid-battle kiss, but I’d argue that their relationship was just as, if not more intimate than any of the other main characters were. They understood each other in a way the others didn’t, their shared guilt, feelings of inadequacy and their obsession with magic forged a deep connection from the get-go. Neither of them are big fans of PDA I think, though Caleb is tactile as hell (forehead touches and kisses, oh man, I’m so weak for those 😩👌) and some of their most iconic moments have them putting themselves in harm’s way to protect the other. Essek shaking off his forced guilt trip immediately after the now infamous forehead touch in ep140 was beautifully poetic, as was using his fortune’s favour to pull Caleb out of the rubble moments before. Caleb trying to include him in his Sphere of Invulnerability in the finale and Essek staying close to him the whole fight despite being obviously terrified of Trent was the icing on the cake. It’s clear that they care for each other a great deal; whether by the finale they’d consider it love is up for debate, but we know that’s eventually where it ended up and honestly, I love that. I deeply appreciated the fact Matt and Liam both emphasised that they took their time with their relationship, letting each other heal in their own way before they took the next step. All too often in media, and real life too sadly, a romantic relationship is seen as some kind of quick fix, and that a lover will somehow complete you or make all your problems vanish. They knew this wasn’t the case here, and that made it all the better.

While I would have *loved* to have seen them together as a couple right to the very end, the change in their relationship felt right, if bittersweet. I doubt they ever stopped loving each other, and if anything, choosing to shift to a deep and lifelong friendship over a romance that would cause them both so much pain is one of the kindest things you could do for someone you love. After all, friendship isn’t a downgrade, just another way of experiencing that same love, and it wasn’t as though they broke up and never saw each other again, it was pretty strongly implied that they remained a major feature in each other’s lives, they just changed their label slightly. Caleb would hate to have forced Essek to watch him wither away, and although his eventual passing would hurt Essek regardless, incompatible lifespans being what they are, having a period of time to adjust to it, to give them a buffer between the inevitable heartbreak was actually really sweet.

Their romance was no accident, they knew going in that it had a time limit, that it wasn’t going to be forever for one of them, and the fact they did it anyway says so much. They began their adventure wholeheartedly believing that they were both, in their own way incapable of love, only to later find it with each other. Whether their relationship lasted for a couple of years or multiple decades is irrelevant, what matters is that while it did they had a happy and fulfilled life together.

I know some folk wanted Caleb to use the transmogrification spell on himself so he could live on with Essek as another elf, or make him human instead, but that would have been way out of character for both I think. If they could have backwards engineered one of the rejuvenation stations in Aeor and used it to extend Caleb’s life by a hundred years or so, so he’d have a similar lifespan to Veth, now, I could have seen him possibly doing that, so he could spend more time with his best friend too, but nothing further I think. He longed to be reunited with his parents too much to postpone death unnaturally like that.

That both Caleb and Essek ultimately chose to live with their mistakes and make peace with themselves was incredibly cathartic, and I couldn’t imagine it playing out any better.

The fact Matt has explicitly stated Essek is Demi too means so much to me personally because the latter is a label I’ve been identifying with a lot recently, and it’s so rare for aspec relationships to get any representation! It has honestly given me a lot to think about over the last few days, and I really appreciate it.

To conclude, here’s a bit of shameless self promotion. I wrote this after watching the finale and honestly feel like it sums up my feelings on the nature of their relationship pretty well.

‘A casual hand on a shoulder, a waist, a wrist; a gentle kiss placed on a forehead is common between them now, an intimacy born of trust and mutual affection. Over time it grows, like a fire born of seasoned timber; gradual and steady, no spluttering kindling that flares and sparks, but a slow burn, one which lasts.

Their love is embroidered into every aspect of their lives together. Acts of service, of comfort, of understanding.

Sometimes a kiss leads to more than a kiss, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way they are content.‘

So yeah, I love these two wizard boys so very much and I couldn’t be happier with the conclusion of their stories. ❤️

[limelocked]

Sundial blurbs

So most of my part of the Sundial au has been locked into general au chat on our server in the form of joking, theorising and sometimes writing as much as the discord character limit allows me to. I did the two first blurbs in this post today and @pomodoko commanded i actually post it and tag them so here they are, sorted into story chronological order and not the order in which i wrote them

Also this is the link to the document with general information on the AU

--- Dreams POV, the inciting incident

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8- NINE It has been ten seconds since Fundy landed at the bottom of the stairs at the lowest level of the building, there had been a noticeable thud that sounded distinctly unpleasant but Dream hadn't picked up on any cracking noise that'd indicate broken bones. Not that it'd be easy to hear over the commotion that led to later events.

Because it'd been seven seconds since Techno had lost his balance because of the falling fox mentioned and seven seconds since he stood back straight, almost brushing against Wilburs taller frame. It had only been five short seconds, that might have felt like weeks to others, since Wilbur in turn furrowed his brow and geared up for retaliation. Four seconds ago techno had been pushed. Three, Wilbur had gone into the wrong portal. Two, Philza had with Fundy still leaning on his shoulder tried to stop them both. One, they were gone.

It was surreal. The room had been filled with chatter before the fight, louder during the fight and now it was quiet. One second in the future, after it had all happened, the silence broke by no one who had seen it happen but by Tommy, babbling on about something with Fundy that didn't matter to anyone but himself. He quieted down when the person he was intending to talk to was nowhere to be found, confused. "Where'd Fundy go?"

"He and Wilbur already went through" the lack of effort it took for Dream to bend that truth would be concerning if not for his record, and technically they already had. "Oh-" an unsatisfactory answer but not one that would send him towards the throat of Noxite. "You can just talk to them back home. Come on." The portal after the hermits was supposed to be theirs, something quickly confirmed as they enter the community house with a crisis averted, or rather pushed back until a later date, and two people lost to another server.

--- Omniscient/Unknown POV, the dreamsmp aftermath

un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf... sept, huit, neuf... sept, huit... Seven hours later was when the lie couldn't hold anymore. Tommy already didn't trust Dream much but Tubbo had been a help in convincing him that Wilbur and Fundy were just away building or something. But the truth comes eventually. He sent a clear message of; <TommyInnIt> stop lying to me

Hour eight was the worst, accusations being thrown and swords being drawn. Screaming and explanations that never really felt enough. The ninth hour was bad in another way, depressing. Tommy's anger had simmered into bargaining as if Dream, George or Tubbo had the power to do anything of substance. It never got to begging, Tommy's pride forbade that but the things he put on the line for help that he couldn't get made it almost seem like it.

Noxcrew was contacted and they confirmed that the hemits had talked to them about the guests. Solutions were suggested and just as quickly rebuffed. Hour ten was a loss and the eleventh hour was one where Tommy and Tubbo got to speak alone.

"Can't you just use your powers or whatever to make the portals take us to hermitcraft" he was exhausted. "It doesn't work like that, probably, and Noxite has probably already tried it" "Yeah but Tubbo could you do it?" "I mean... maybe?" To that something glinted in Tommys eye, hope that Tubbo didn't want to extinguish as fast as it needed to be. "But I'm not allowed into the MCC world anyways so it wouldn't work" "FUCKING CHRIST TUBBO everyone here's useless!"

--- Technos POV, first night on hermitcraft

It's the first night and bones tower above him.

There were other buildings around, and the area was lit up well but eyes followed him from the darkness, eying the stone tools he'd manage to scrape up while leaving the group now probably settled in a warm house far away. This world scared him, the monsters and the way his sword hit differently, and the fact that the air itself felt new.

A pair of eyes glowed at him from it's place under one of the ribs of a beast too huge to want to think about. Techno readied his sword, but the dog decided that it'd rather go back to sleep. This world scared him and he just knew he'd gotten lost now because his goal had been to retrace his steps, the path that Xisuma and Bdoubleo had shown them to the little village far away by boat, to find the house cleft in two and then head straight out to sea until he could find a better place to stay than the tension thick cabin that their hosts had suggested.

Another dog offered a quiet bark in his direction and with an embarrassed sssh, covering fright, he continued forward. He had found the water, true, and he remembered something vague about a neighbour... but... No. No he decided that he'd choose a direction and if there weren't any light he'd just have to turn around or dock and make a little cave to live out of. It wouldn't be glorious but neither is 5 million potatoes.

A boat is placed into the water at the straight of Joebralta and a pig starts to row.

Clang. He is confused. The boat shakes in the middle of open water, he's been turned around. Clang. A trident, something he's only really seen in Skyblockle, shoots into the air a meter to the right of his boat. He speeds up. Clang. It misses, but he has decided that the sea is no longer safe.

--- Technos and Ethos POV, the first days in hermitcraft

He's starting to feel bad for leaving. Still justified, but also bad. He felt horrible the instant the championship room disappeared from right in front of his eyes with Wilbur still in it, and still worse when Wilbur then Phil and Fundy appeared next to him in this world, all statues as unseen confused messages fill the communicators of the worlds inhabitants.

When they arrived he was surprised that a lot of the hermits knew about them, or at least him, from the returning cast of hermits that played in MCC and their apparent tendency to tell stories as soon as there was space for it. It'd made it less awkward but the looks from the others stopped him from talking much about his side of the tournaments.

This was perhaps night four? He had stepped ashore in a jungle a bit from an area he could almost feel at home in with its skyscrapers reminiscent of some survival games arenas. But it was built by someone and someone should be avoided so he had trudged through plains and deserts walking around it only to find more tall buildings in another jungle.

The jungle was... safe? Safe from people at least, less so mobs. He had a little cave with a bed now that kept the hot and humid air out most of the time and while small and cramped and utterly horrible it felt far safer than returning to the others... even though he could practically hear Phils calm and nonchalant reassurances.

Leaving the small home he searches for the water he remembers spotting nearby. The bright orange tracksuit wasn't something he wanted to wear but there wasn't much of anything else and it still needed to be washed of stone dust and sweat no matter how much he disliked it. He leaves with a compass and map to find his way back, and around other peoples territory. And water is found easily with these. Stone, coal and redstone is scrubbed away in the freshwater lake that's only relatively cold, but it still feels nice, like the wind on his island in skyblock or in the skywars arenas.

Not too far away a man is working in a terrarium of his own design containing no animals but currents in thin snakes coiling around comparators and observers. The change to the nether has been an exciting one but it did come with problems for the technicians and thankfully for this one the Google hasn't broken too far beyond belief and is back in functioning order faster than expected.

Satisfied he looks at the path that he paradoxically want to end and to continue and decides to wait, flying up to sit near his portal instead to think about it and access the expansions he's already made. Something bright orange is spotted in the distance which at first is ignored, it can wait, until the realization of a possible abandoned shulker, so very common in this group, grabs him and almost instantly leaves as it moves around.

Several seconds later the orange turns brighter and the idea of lava pops in and out of his head in a flash.

<Etho> Beef have to lost an orange llama? <VintageBeef> no? <VintageBeef> at least I dont think so...? <Etho> o_o

He's been keeping out of the way for a while, like usual, and only knew some of the news about new people on the server. That they'd gotten there with Rendogs sports gang by accident and that they'd been living mostly over at Bdubs' place to avoid having them be excluded to their own little village. Apparently something had happened, he'd missed the details but it was looking like there was a manhunt for someone or something that he should by all means be more invested in.

Curious he misses the orange go out of view in favour of finding out about this missing thing in case he's found it. A person and a description, hidden deep in other messages. His height, human pig hybrid, last seen wearing...

Does he want to do this? He knows his way around a jungle but it's still annoying and Xisuma lives close by... but he's most likely AFK. Well, you make a good first impression on the new guys if you find their missing friend.

--- Omniscient/Unclear POV, Technos time with Etho

Silence is golden in silver light. The hermits can stay up days on end without sleep, working through nights when it’s needed and even with guests this doesn’t change. Like the sliver of moon in the sky, Ethos hair glows radiant from inside the redstone machine he calls the Googler and Techno does nothing but look on as repeaters are moved and redstone is smeared in new paths into blocks he has never seen before, something he’s had to get used to lately.

His host works in silence until a question breaks the jungles chime and an answer is given with the rhythm. The redstone had changed and he thought he had fixed it, an unhelpful follow up is posed and a pause is moved into a somewhat oversimplified version of the circuit. They both know that Techno is no help here, but the company is nice and something is learned.

Etho in the day when working the fortress tells Techno about the old days and in turn Techno admits to never having left those old days for long. Etho talks about Pause and Beef. Techno fails to talk about his own team.

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 9

( previous. )

Characters: c!Ranboo, c!Dream, c!Wilbur, c!Tommy Word count: 2081 Content: jokes about brain damage, hypnosis, ranboo remembers everything

----

“Do you understand more?” Dream’s voice sounds almost too far away. Ranboo is still trying to grasp onto reality, still mentally lost in the end. Part of him doesn’t want to shake off the peaceful haze, but another part of him is struggling to surface, if not for himself then for Tommy.

Tommy’s hand is in his own, caressing the back of his hand tenderly. Ranboo can feel the comfort from the other teen, but the comfort only seems to keep him in this suspension. Still, he lifts his head and acknowledges Dream with a dreamy hum.

“He’s still lost,” Wilbur exclaims. “We shouldn’t have brought him there without preparing him.”

“Is he going to be okay though?” Not even Tommy’s brash voice can snap him out of it. There’s a distant thought that maybe this isn’t entirely his fault. Is it really such a bad thing though? Ranboo feels utterly at peace.

“He’ll be fine.” Dream presses his hands to Ranboo’s shoulders. “We could use this, actually. It’d be useful if we wanted to access his memories.”

“How do you suggest we use this? He’s barely responsive.” Wilbur sounds curious; Ranboo turns to gaze at the man. In this state of mind, Ranboo feels as though he can actually trust everyone around him. Though, shouldn’t that be a cause for concern? It’s not like the men are exactly plotting anything good.

Tommy seems to understand what’s being discussed, because he’s yanking his hand away from Ranboo and lurching to his feet. “Oy, no. He’ll snap out of it soon enough, neither of us need your help. You’re going to give him brain dama-”

“What are you talking about?” Wilbur sounds amused. “Do you really think he’ll get brain damage from being in trance?” Ranboo dimly notes a smirk on Wilbur’s face. “Tommy, I don’t know where you get your information, but you’re clearly looking at the wrong sources.”

“I know enough,” Tommy grumbles, seating himself back by Ranboo’s side. “He’ll get stuck like this, he’ll get brain damage and turn into some sort of puppet, then end up in a coma. You can’t use him.”

Wilbur snorts, but surprisingly, so does Dream. It’s almost enough for Ranboo to fully come back to reality as he glances back and forth. When he glances at Dream though, he notes the way Dream is presented. Dream’s hair is hanging loose around his face, no mask in sight. He’s not wearing his usual green for once, and instead a simple blue t-shirt hangs loose around his frame, paired with tan cargo pants. Dream looks like an ordinary man that’d be hard to pick out of a crowd normally, but right now, Ranboo feels completely and utterly drawn to him.

“If you’re going to do something, do it right now,” Dream urges Wilbur. “Before he completely snaps out of it.”

“Shut up dickhead,” Tommy mutters, snapping his fingers in Dream’s direction. “What if you two hurt him or some shit? You shouldn’t mess around with things you don’t understand!”

Wilbur drops his voice to speak quieter than normal. “What makes you think we don’t understand, Tommy? Remember all those nights I read to you until you fell asleep, all the times I was able to talk you out of a rash decision? Even when I was able to convince you the day we stood by the ocean, gathering sand. People find it so easy to listen to me, even more so when they’re already suggestible.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy warns.

Cocky grin in place, Wilbur moves around to stand behind Ranboo. Hands press down on the hybrid’s shoulders, heavy enough to keep him seated, light enough that he could wriggle out of the grip if he chose to. Ranboo leans back into Wilbur, head resting back against Wilbur’s chest.

“That’s it Ranboo,” Wilbur murmurs. “You enjoy feeling so relaxed, don’t you? Already so lost in the memory of your homeland, you’ll find it so easy to open the rest of your mind and let us in.”

“Us?” Ranboo finally finds his voice, and it’s shaky. He remembers what Tommy said five minutes ago. “I’ll be okay?”

“You’ll be more than okay.” It’s Dream now, and Ranboo is unconsciously leaning toward him. Dream means safety, he always has. But why?

Wilbur laughs. “I think he wants you, Dream.” He nudges at Ranboo before stepping back. “Should I keep going, though?”

Ranboo feels another arm wrap around him, holding him close. With a light sigh, Ranboo leans into the new body, recognizing the figure as Dream. He nods mutely toward Wilbur, encouraging him to keep going. He might not know what it is Wilbur is doing, but his voice is nice to listen to.

“Ranboo I want you to listen to me carefully.” Wilbur’s voice drops again, weaving gently through the room, before settling in his mind. “Just listen to me and let yourself go, back to the end. It holds all the answers you could possibly need. More specifically, the ones you’ve locked away from yourself.”

“Wilbur are you sure this will help?” Tommy whispers. The response Wilbur gives him is finger pressed to his forehead. Tommy goes cross-eyes trying to focus on the finger, but Wilbur jerks his hand downward, with Tommy’s eyes falling shut and his body falling forward. The man gathers Tommy in his arms and holds him before continuing to speak to Ranboo.

“You can see them just beyond your reach, Ranboo,” Wilbur whispers. “They’re not locked tight in a box, they’re open and available for you, you just have to be willing to reach for them.

In his mind, Ranboo’s in the end again. The purple haze surrounds him, leaving him feeling as though he’s completely alone. Wilbur’s voice is barely even heard, but Ranboo’s listening anyway. He can see what he only assumes are his memories (in the form of obsidian chunks), strewn about by the dragon’s small tower. His gaze locks onto those chunks as he moves closer, reaching an arm out. Though, Ranboo stops short of touching one. What if he finds something that scares him? He’s contributed to hurting Tommy as well as other people.

He doesn’t want to hate himself.

“It’s okay Ranboo,” Wilbur continues. “You’re safe with us. Your memories will not destroy you. Just breathe.”

He sucks in a breath, trying to steady his emotions. Everything seems to stretch out endlessly between himself and the obsidian chunks. It almost seems hopeless, but he finally closes his fist around the first one.

Everything rushes back.

He sees himself in Dream’s vault. This is his memory, he’s not watching it from an omniscient point of view, he recalls it perfectly now. Ranboo is with the rest of the SMP as they rush in to rescue Tommy and Tubbo, though he stands back to watch Tommy enact his revenge. Ranboo recalls staring at Dream, too, as the latter is led away to prison.

When he comes to, he’s still not back in the cabin, but back in the end. Obsidian chunks are still surrounding him, no longer stretched out, but pressed too close against him. The sensation is almost suffocating, and the only way out is to grab and push at them.

He remembers everything now.

Not all at once, it’s not a painful barrage against his brain, but more of a trickle, each memory dripping back in one by one. Everything he’d done, everything he’d help plan, everything he wanted to do. All the memories leave him feeling spent, even with Wilbur’s gentle cadence echoing in the back of his mind.

The last memory Ranboo picks up is the day Dream escaped from prison.

He pulls a sword on Tubbo, not to hurt him, but to warn him to stay back. He never wanted Tubbo to get hurt in the crossfire, he never wanted Michael to see this. Tubbo had always been better off away from any of this, where he can remain safe and raise Michael in peace.

Ranboo had pulled the sword and left him alone. He recalls the grief he’d pushed down in favor of guarding Tommy.

It was always about Tommy.

Ranboo had sworn to protect him from day one, hoping to guide him in the right direction, to steer him back toward Wilbur. Kind of a hard task to accomplish when he’s splitting his mind in half.

Everything makes sense now. Nothing’s changed, his mindset about Dream being evil has never changed. That much has always been true, the only difference now is Ranboo no longer feels remorse over being here.

He’d seen how everyone had twisted their morals and viewpoints into something barely recognizable. He’d seen how quickly everyone cast aside someone else for opposing beliefs, himself included. Everyone on the SMP is some level of selfish, and Ranboo had immediately gone to Dream, who had presented an idea.

He’d learned that Wilbur had the same mindset before he died. Ranboo had learned that in the deep pits of Pogtopia, where not even Tommy could reach, Wilbur had vented about his need to destroy more than just L’Manburg, that the two men had discussed starting over and creating a society where everyone would be on the same page. No more betrayal, no more destruction, no more pain.

Ranboo had loved the idea.

He still loves the idea.

When he sits up straight, he’s in the cabin again. It’s the same cabin, with the same beds and counters and furnaces. Wilbur is there holding a dazed Tommy, who’s glaring around the room. Dream is watching him with an expectant grin on his face.

The person Ranboo wants to speak to most isn’t there.

“Are you with us again?” Dream asks. “You look way more alert than you did before we started.”

Nodding, Ranboo stares down at his legs, wiping imaginary dirt off his trousers. “Thanks, I think. I don’t know what that was but-”

“Classic hypnosis,” Wilbur says smugly. “Tommy here thought it’d give you brain damage. Tommy, do you have brain damage?”

“I’ll smack you over the head with an obsidian brick,” Tommy grumbles. “That’ll give you brain damage.”

“I remember now,” Ranboo continues as though the brothers hadn’t just bickered. “I think I remember everything. Or at least, I know enough.”

“Do you still think I’m the bad guy?” Dream presses.

Ranboo snorts, but nods. “We’re all the bad guys, but I don’t mind as much. At least now I know what I’m doing.”

“Traitor.” There’s no bite in Tommy’s voice. “You lot are all traitors. Let me off this crazy ride.”

Reaching over, Ranboo gives Tommy’s hair a teasing ruffle. “You know you love us.”

“Two of you.” The younger teen shoots a pointed glare in Dream’s direction. “I only care about two of you.”

Dream shrugs. “That’s fair. I’m coming to terms with the fact that you hate me. I’ll live.”

“We’ve had a busy day,” Wilbur interrupts, pushing Tommy off his lap. The teen falls to the floor with a pained groan. “We should all sleep. We still have a lot of prep to do and things won’t be ready for awhile, but we’re making progress.”

“Wilbur you’re such a dick.” Tommy stretches out. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

With a chuckle, Ranboo pulls Tommy up and drags him over to their makeshift double bed. “Just share with me again, alright?” He’s suprised when Tommy latches onto him, causing Ranboo to topple backwards into the bed. He makes a grab for Tommy in hopes of moving him, but it’s clear Tommy’s not moving.

“Don’t turn against me now that you have your memories back,” Tommy whispers. “I’m tired of losing people.”

Softening, Ranboo moves to grab at Tommy’s hand instead of his wrist. “No, never,” he promises. “It was always about you and your safety. I won’t let you down again, alright?”

“I’m tired of not trusting people either,” Tommy mumbles. He already sounds half asleep. “Just promise me that you and Wilbur won’t turn into Dream.”

“I promise.” Ranboo gives Tommy’s hand a squeeze. “We’re both here to protect you with everything we have. You can trust us unconditionally.”

“Thanks.” Mostly asleep, the teen’s voice is slurred. Ranboo settles for playing with Tommy’s hair to lull him down the rest of the way. He’d forgotten that in all this mess, Tommy probably doesn’t get very much comfort anymore.

That’s okay, Ranboo’s happy to provide. Just because they’re the bad guys doesn’t mean they have to be evil.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Religious Trauma Syndrome: How Some Organized Religion Leads to Mental Health Problems

By Valerie Tarico

Marlene Winell interviewed March 25, 2013

At age sixteen I began what would be a four year struggle with bulimia. When the symptoms started, I turned in desperation to adults who knew more than I did about how to stop shameful behavior—my Bible study leader and a visiting youth minister.  “If you ask anything in faith, believing,” they said. “It will be done.” I knew they were quoting [3] the Word of God. We prayed together, and I went home confident that God had heard my prayers. But my horrible compulsions didn’t go away. By the fall of my sophomore year in college, I was desperate and depressed enough that I made a suicide attempt. The problem wasn’t just the bulimia. I was convinced by then that I was a complete spiritual failure. My college counseling department had offered to get me real help (which they later did). But to my mind, at that point, such help couldn’t fix the core problem: I was a failure in the eyes of God. It would be years before I understood that my inability to heal bulimia through the mechanisms offered by biblical Christianity was not a function of my own spiritual deficiency but deficiencies in Evangelical religion itself.  

Dr. Marlene Winell is a human development consultant in the San Francisco Area. She is also the daughter of Pentecostal missionaries. This combination has given her work an unusual focus. For the past twenty years she has counseled men and women in recovery from various forms of fundamentalist religion including the Assemblies of God denomination in which she was raised. Winell is the author of Leaving the Fold – A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving their Religion [4], written during her years of private practice in psychology. Over the years, Winell has provided assistance to clients whose religious experiences were even more damaging than mine. Some of them are people whose psychological symptoms weren’t just exacerbated by their religion, but actually caused by it.  

Two years ago, Winell made waves by formally labeling what she calls “Religious Trauma Syndrome” (RTS) and beginning to write and speak on the subject for professional audiences. When the British Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Psychologists published a series of articles on the topic, members of a Christian counseling association protested what they called excessive attention to a “relatively niche topic.” One commenter said, “A religion, faith or book cannot be abuse but the people interpreting can make anything abusive.”

Is toxic religion simply misinterpretation? What is religious trauma? Why does Winell believe religious trauma merits its own diagnostic label?

Let’s start this interview with the basics. What exactly is religious trauma syndrome?

Winell: Religious trauma syndrome (RTS) is a set of symptoms and characteristics that tend to go together and which are related to harmful experiences with religion. They are the result of two things: immersion in a controlling religion and the secondary impact of leaving a religious group. The RTS label provides a name and description that affected people often recognize immediately. Many other people are surprised by the idea of RTS, because in our culture it is generally assumed that religion is benign or good for you. Just like telling kids about Santa Claus and letting them work out their beliefs later, people see no harm in teaching religion to children.

But in reality, religious teachings and practices sometimes cause serious mental health damage. The public is somewhat familiar with sexual and physical abuse in a religious context. As Journalist Janet Heimlich has documented in, Breaking Their Will, Bible-based religious groups that emphasize patriarchal authority in family structure and use harsh parenting methods can be destructive.

But the problem isn’t just physical and sexual abuse. Emotional and mental treatment in authoritarian religious groups also can be damaging because of 1) toxic teachings like eternal damnation or original sin 2) religious practices or mindset, such as punishment, black and white thinking, or sexual guilt, and 3) neglect that prevents a person from having the information or opportunities to develop normally.

Can you give me an example of RTS from your consulting practice?

Winell: I can give you many. One of the symptom clusters is around fear and anxiety. People indoctrinated into fundamentalist Christianity as small children sometimes have memories of being terrified by images of hell and apocalypse before their brains could begin to make sense of such ideas. Some survivors, who I prefer to call “reclaimers,” [8] have flashbacks, panic attacks, or nightmares in adulthood even when they intellectually no longer believe the theology. One client of mine, who during the day functioned well as a professional, struggled with intense fear many nights. She said,

“I was afraid I was going to hell. I was afraid I was doing something really wrong. I was completely out of control. I sometimes would wake up in the night and start screaming, thrashing my arms, trying to rid myself of what I was feeling. I’d walk around the house trying to think and calm myself down, in the middle of the night, trying to do some self-talk, but I felt like it was just something that – the fear and anxiety was taking over my life.” Or consider this comment, which refers to a film [9] used by evangelicals to warn about the horrors of the “end times” for nonbelievers.

“I was taken to see the film “A Thief In The Night”. WOW.  I am in shock to learn that many other people suffered the same traumas I lived with because of this film. A few days or weeks after the film viewing, I came into the house and mom wasn’t there. I stood there screaming in terror. When I stopped screaming, I began making my plan: Who my Christian neighbors were, who’s house to break into to get money and food. I was 12 years old and was preparing for Armageddon alone.”

In addition to anxiety, RTS can include depression, cognitive difficulties, and problems with social functioning. In fundamentalist Christianity, the individual is considered depraved and in need of salvation. A core message is “You are bad and wrong and deserve to die.” (The wages of sin is death [10].) This gets taught to millions of children through organizations like Child Evangelism Fellowship [11] and there is a group organized [12]  to oppose their incursion into public schools.  I’ve had clients who remember being distraught when given a vivid bloody image of Jesus paying the ultimate price for their sins. Decades later they sit telling me that they can’t manage to find any self-worth.

“After twenty-seven years of trying to live a perfect life, I failed. . . I was ashamed of myself all day long. My mind battling with itself with no relief. . . I always believed everything that I was taught but I thought that I was not approved by God. I thought that basically I, too, would die at Armageddon.

“I’ve spent literally years injuring myself, cutting and burning my arms, taking overdoses and starving myself, to punish myself so that God doesn’t have to punish me. It’s taken me years to feel deserving of anything good.”

Born-again Christianity and devout Catholicism [13] tell people they are weak and dependent, calling on phrases like “lean not unto your own understanding [14]” or “trust and obey [11].” People who internalize these messages can suffer from learned helplessness. I’ll give you an example from a client who had little decision-making ability after living his entire life devoted to following the “will of God.” The words here don’t convey the depth of his despair.

“I have an awful time making decisions in general. Like I can’t, you know, wake up in the morning, “What am I going to do today?” Like I don’t even know where to start. You know all the things I thought I might be doing are gone and I’m not sure I should even try to have a career; essentially I babysit my four-year-old all day.”

Authoritarian religious groups are subcultures where conformity is required in order to belong. Thus if you dare to leave the religion, you risk losing your entire support system as well.

“I lost all my friends. I lost my close ties to family. Now I’m losing my country. I’ve lost so much because of this malignant religion and I am angry and sad to my very core. . . I have tried hard to make new friends, but I have failed miserably. . . I am very lonely.”

Leaving a religion, after total immersion, can cause a complete upheaval of a person’s construction of reality, including the self, other people, life, and the future. People unfamiliar with this situation, including therapists, have trouble appreciating the sheer terror it can create.

“My form of religion was very strongly entrenched and anchored deeply in my heart. It is hard to describe how fully my religion informed, infused, and influenced my entire worldview. My first steps out of fundamentalism were profoundly frightening and I had frequent thoughts of suicide. Now I’m way past that but I still haven’t quite found “my place in the universe.”

Even for a person who was not so entrenched, leaving one’s religion can be a stressful and significant transition.

Many people seem to walk away from their religion easily, without really looking back. What is different about the clientele you work with?

Winell: Religious groups that are highly controlling, teach fear about the world, and keep members sheltered and ill-equipped to function in society are harder to leave easily. The difficulty seems to be greater if the person was born and raised in the religion rather than joining as an adult convert. This is because they have no frame of reference – no other “self” or way of “being in the world.” A common personality type is a person who is deeply emotional and thoughtful and who tends to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their endeavors. “True believers” who then lose their faith feel more anger and depression and grief than those who simply went to church on Sunday.

Aren’t these just people who would be depressed, anxious, or obsessive anyways?

Winell: Not at all. If my observation is correct, these are people who are intense and involved and caring. They hang on to the religion longer than those who simply “walk away” because they try to make it work even when they have doubts. Sometimes this is out of fear, but often it is out of devotion. These are people for whom ethics, integrity and compassion matter a great deal. I find that when they get better and rebuild their lives, they are wonderfully creative and energetic about new things.

In your mind, how is RTS different from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Winell: RTS is a specific set of symptoms and characteristics that are connected with harmful religious experience, not just any trauma. This is crucial to understanding the condition and any kind of self-help or treatment. (More details about this can be found on my Journey Free [15] website and discussed in my talk [16] at the Texas Freethought Convention.)

Another difference is the social context, which is extremely different from other traumas or forms of abuse. When someone is recovering from domestic abuse, for example, other people understand and support the need to leave and recover. They don’t question it as a matter of interpretation, and they don’t send the person back for more. But this is exactly what happens to many former believers who seek counseling. If a provider doesn’t understand the source of the symptoms, he or she may send a client for pastoral counseling, or to AA, or even to another church. One reclaimer expressed her frustration this way:

“Include physically-abusive parents who quote “Spare the rod and spoil the child” as literally as you can imagine and you have one fucked-up soul: an unloved, rejected, traumatized toddler in the body of an adult. I’m simply a broken spirit in an empty shell. But wait...That’s not enough!? There’s also the expectation by everyone in society that we victims should celebrate this with our perpetrators every Christmas and Easter!!”

Just like disorders such as autism or bulimia, giving RTS a real name has important advantages. People who are suffering find that having a label for their experience helps them feel less alone and guilty. Some have written to me to express their relief:

“There’s actually a name for it! I was brainwashed from birth and wasted 25 years of my life serving Him! I’ve since been out of my religion for several years now, but I cannot shake the haunting fear of hell and feel absolutely doomed. I’m now socially inept, unemployable, and the only way I can have sex is to pay for it.”

Labeling RTS encourages professionals to study it more carefully, develop treatments, and offer training. Hopefully, we can even work on prevention.

What do you see as the difference between religion that causes trauma and religion that doesn’t?

Winell: Religion causes trauma when it is highly controlling and prevents people from thinking for themselves and trusting their own feelings. Groups that demand obedience and conformity produce fear, not love and growth. With constant judgment of self and others, people become alienated from themselves, each other, and the world. Religion in its worst forms causes separation.

Conversely, groups that connect people and promote self-knowledge and personal growth can be said to be healthy. The book, Healthy Religion [17], describes these traits. Such groups put high value on respecting differences, and members feel empowered as individuals.  They provide social support, a place for events and rites of passage, exchange of ideas, inspiration, opportunities for service, and connection to social causes. They encourage spiritual practices that promote health like meditation or principles for living like the golden rule. More and more, non-theists are asking [18] how they can create similar spiritual communities without the supernaturalism. An atheist congregation [19] in London launched this year and has received over 200 inquiries from people wanting to replicate their model.

Some people say that terms like “recovery from religion” and “religious trauma syndrome” are just atheist attempts to pathologize religious belief.

Winell: Mental health professionals have enough to do without going out looking for new pathology. I never set out looking for a “niche topic,” and certainly not religious trauma syndrome. I originally wrote a paper for a conference of the American Psychological Association and thought that would be the end of it. Since then, I have tried to move on to other things several times, but this work has simply grown.

In my opinion, we are simply, as a culture, becoming aware of religious trauma. More and more people are leaving religion, as seen by polls [20] showing that the “religiously unaffiliated” have increased in the last five years from just over 15% to just under 20% of all U.S. adults. It’s no wonder the internet is exploding with websites for former believers from all religions, providing forums [21] for people to support each other. The huge population of people “leaving the fold” includes a subset at risk for RTS, and more people are talking about it and seeking help.  For example, there are thousands of former Mormons [22], and I was asked to speak about RTS at an Exmormon Foundation conference.  I facilitate an international support group online called Release and Reclaim [23]  which has monthly conference calls. An organization called Recovery from Religion, [24] helps people start self-help meet-up groups

Saying that someone is trying to pathologize authoritarian religion is like saying someone pathologized eating disorders by naming them. Before that, they were healthy? No, before that we weren’t noticing. People were suffering, thought they were alone, and blamed themselves.  Professionals had no awareness or training. This is the situation of RTS today. Authoritarian religion is already pathological, and leaving a high-control group can be traumatic. People are already suffering. They need to be recognized and helped. _______________________________

Statistics update:

Numbers of American ‘nones’ continues to rise

October 18, 2019

By David Crary – Associated Press

The portion of Americans with no religious affiliation is rising significantly, in tandem with a sharp drop in the percentage that identifies as Christians, according to new data from the Pew Research Center. …

Pew says all categories of the religiously unaffiliated population – often referred to as the “nones” grew in magnitude. Self-described atheists now account for 4% of U.S. adults, up from 2% in 2009; agnostics account for 5%, up from 3% a decade ago; and 17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,” up from 12% in 2009.

https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2019/1018/Numbers-of-American-nones-continues-to-rise

_______________________________

Marlene Winell interviewed by Valerie Tarico on recovering from religious trauma Uploaded on January 31, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIfABmbqSMA

24:12

On Moral Politics, a TV program with host Dr. Valerie Tarico, Marlene Winell describes the trauma that can result from harmful experiences with religious indoctrination. Dr. Winell explains that mental health issues are widespread and need to be understood just as we understand PTSD. There are steps to recovery, treatment modalities, and resources available as well. She now refers to this as RTS or Religious Trauma Syndrome. _______________________________

Links:
 
[3] https://www.biblestudyonjesuschrist.com/pog/ask1.htm 
[4] https://marlenewinell.net/leaving-fold-former 
[8] https://journeyfree.org/article/reclaimers/ 
[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Thief_in_the_Night_%28film%29 
[10] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+6%3A23&version=KJV 
[11] https://valerietarico.com/2011/02/04/our-public-schools-their-mission-field/ 
[12] http://www.intrinsicdignity.com/ 
[13] https://www.maryjohnson.co/an-unquenchable-thirst/ 
[14] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+3%3A5-6&version=KJV [15] https://journeyfree.org/category/uncategorized/ [16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrE4pMBlis 
[17] https://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Religion-Psychological-Guide-Mature/dp/1425924166 [18] https://www.humanistchaplaincy.org/ [19] https://www.christianpost.com/news/london-atheist-church-model-looking-to-expand-worldwide-91516 [20] https://www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/ 
[21] https://new.exchristian.net/ 
[22] https://www.exmormon.org/ 
[23] https://journeyfree.org/group-forum/ [24] https://www.recoveringfromreligion.org/

_____________________________________

Get God’s Self-Appointed Messengers Out of Your Head

Valerie Tarico Which buzz phrases from your past are stuck in your brain? “God’s messengers” were all real complicated people with biases, blind spots, favorite foods and morning breath. They were not gods and they are not you. So how can you get them out of your head or at least reduce them to muffled background noise?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElfyYA420F0

[1988hc]

When Matthew walks into the hotel bar after media day, he immediately spots him. Leon is sitting a little to the right of the other patrons, wearing a blue dress shirt but no jacket, nursing what looks like a boring club soda. Hopefully there's something stronger mixed in it.

Matthew doesn't let himself think about it, just slides into the open spot on the left of Leon, resting his forearms on the wooden bar top. "Looks like you dropped something."

He can feel Leon startle, head whipping around and Matthew is only watching Leon out of the corner of his eyes but he still sees the exact moment Leon registers who he is. It's easy to tell what with the way his whole face closes off, eyes narrowing in contempt.

"What."

It comes out flat. Not even a question, definitely not like "what did I drop?", most certainly short for "what the fuck are you doing here talking to me, I hate you, please leave", but Matthew's never been the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. It's the perfect opening.

He takes his time turning his head, meeting Leon's stare head on. Fuck, the pure intensity of Leon's gaze is already doing something to Matthew, making his dick plump up in his pants. He smirks a little, because he knows it gets under Leon's skin, and because he wants to. This is much better entertainment that he'd hoped to find when he came down here.

"Your standards." He puts enough suggestion into the words that even someone as obtuse as Leon Draisaitl will not be able to take it as anything other but a come on. Matthew's smirk grows a shade deeper at the pun. Fuck, he wouldn't mind coming on Leon, spurt all over Leon's abs and chest, mark him up, get him dirty. "Hi, I'm Matthew."

Leon scoffs, and no matter how repulsed he may act, fact is his eyes haven't left Matthew for even a second since he sat down. "I know who you are."

His accent is quite pronounced, thicker than usual. Maybe he's tired after a long media circus day or maybe there's really alcohol in his soda. Matthew's played with guys who got near unintelligible when they were drunk, losing their grip on English and sliding back into their mother tongue after just two beers. He wouldn't mind Leon talking German at him, thinks about driving into Leon's no doubt uptight ass (heh) while Leon spits German curse words at him. Fuck yeah that could work.

"Don't be rude," Matthew scolds. "We've never been properly introduced. Figured I'd come…" he pauses for effect, let's the sentence hang there just long enough to appreciate his superior wit and the shocked look on Leon's face "...say hi."

When Leon doesn't say anything else, Matthew heaves a sigh. He hadn't banked on Leon being so lazy, letting Matthew do all the heavy lifting by himself. Rude Germans. "And you are?"

"You know who I am."

Matthew wants to laugh. He's suddenly got a whole new appreciation for the plight of the media people today who had to try and drag answers out of this potato.

"Tell me what I should call you, then," Matthew says, leaning closer, making his voice low, putting in enough of a leer so hopefully even this potato will get the double-entendre.

Leon blinks, but doesn't draw back, staying in Matthew's space, staring. Eyes dragging over Matthew's face like he's re-assessing something. Viewing Matthew in a new light. Wondering. Hallelujah, looks like Leon's finally getting with the program here.

"I'm Leon."

Ugh. ALL of the heavy lifting.

Fine, whatever. Matthew can do this, he's always up for a challenge.

"If I ask for your number, you gonna tell me 29?"

Leon laughs, a surprised bark, like he's never heard that joke before. It's stupid, but it still makes something inside Matthew clench. He wouldn't mind making Leon laugh again.

"I'm not giving you my phone number," Leon says. Matthew supposes it was intended to come out as derisive, but to Matthew's trained ears there's definite interest there making it land firmly in playing hard to get land. That's definite progress. Matthew resists the urge to fist pump.

Time to move in for the kill.

"What about if I asked for your room number?"

It's about as overt as Matthew's ever been. He usually prefers his hookups to be negotiated a lot more subtly. Contrary to popular belief, Matthew actually possesses some self-preservation instincts. Then again, he's usually not trying to hook up with an obtuse potato that loves to pretend to hate Matthew's guts. (Okay, so maybe the hooking up with people who hate his guts isn't exactly a novelty, but they're usually a lot less difficult to convince to turn that energy into something productive.)

"You're saying…" Leon frowns, licks his lips, staring at Matthew, like he's still not quite sure he's reading the situation correctly.

Matthew wants to shout at him, maybe grab Leon by his wide shoulders and give him a good shake. (Rough him up a bit, just enough to show Leon that he doesn't have to be careful with Matthew. Get Leon to finally get his head in the game and fight back, holding Matthew down while he lays a string of stinging bites over Matthew's pecs and collarbones. Hands firm on Matthew's thighs, keeping them spread and open for Leon while Leon licks his balls, sucks on Matthew's cock.) He's already laid a lot more on the line here than he's usually willing to risk, so he doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow and let's Leon figure it out for himself.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Leon comes to a decision, the way his whole posture changes, straightening up. He's clearly resolved to do something, Matthew just doesn't know what the decision is. Leon gives nothing away as he drowns the last of his (vodka?) soda, sets the glass on the bar and digs his wallet out of his back pocket. Matthew spares a quick, appreciative glance at Leon's ass, the fabric of his dark grey slacks straining against its plump curves, before he's distracted by Leon's hands tucking a twenty from his wallet, folding it up neatly and wedging it under the glass. Takes his sweet time about it but doesn't say anything, won't meet Matthew's eye. What an ass. And then he's standing up and Matthew still doesn't know whether he's currently getting the rudest brush off in ASG history or what.

Leon tucks his chair neatly back under the bar, lets his hands linger in the back of it, smoothing over the gleaming wood, until he finally can't drag the moment out any longer. Matthew suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

"315," Leon says, looking straight at Matthew, challenge in his eyes, and then he's gone.

Matthew stares at his retreating back, speechless for a moment. And then it sinks in.

He laughs, shaking his head, grinning a little despite himself. He can't believe he just got played.

That stupid, beautiful, asshole fucker.

Oh, the things he's gonna do to him. Leon's got no idea what he's in for. Payback's a bitch, and Matthew already has more than a few ideas on how he's gonna go about exacting his revenge.

He gets up, straightens his chair, tucking it in neatly next to Leon's. And then he goes in search of room 315.

This is gonna be fun.

[starwarsaddiction]

The spider web

Ok, i’m trying again. It’s mostly an exercise for my cruncky written english, so forgive me for all the mistakes i surely made writing this shit. I didn’t even have a plot, it all started with the nice pic of Ewan McGregor, that made me think about a very uncomfortable Obi-Wan, so don’t expect it to go any direction. It’s merely a writing exercise, but of course, comments and corrections are very welcomed. I wanted to write something about how relationships are viewed in the Jedi Order, without some of my most dreaded misconceptions about jedi being cold and incapable of love.

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

There, again. He wasn’t even trying to be uncospicuos.

“Anakin, for good’s sake.” Thought Obi-Wan, watching his former Padawan flirting with Padmé, at the Chancellor party after the Opera, just weeks after the battle of Geonosis. He had to wear one of those uncomfortable civilian suit, and his lightsaber was in a pocket inside the jacket, instead of having it at his belt, as usual, and he felt out of place, almost naked. Leaning on the side of the door to the terrace, with the wind of upper Coruscant muffling the sound of traffic outside, he felt a bit lost, and Anakin was making a fool of himself, in the middle of the party. But trying to stop, in that moment, would just resulted in an unpleasant discussion, late that night at the Temple, and he had enough of bickering with Anakin, that day. 

They already discussed about the opportunity to attend the party, and both Obi-Wan and the Council tried to talk the Chancellor off from that idea of the party, thinking that there was absolutely nothing to celebrate, at the beginning of a war that nobody wanted, but Palpatine was sure it was a way to reassure people that the war would be easily win and everything was as always. But all the Jedi had a very bad feeling about that. Discovering a huge clone army, in the same moment when Dooku displayed his droid army, was a clear sign that this war would be all but short. 

Obi-Wan sighted. He knew how dangerous it was for Anakin to pursue any kind of relationship with the Naboo Senator. If only she was a Jedi herself, things could be easier. The rule was against attachment, not against relationships, and mostly the Council agreed that the biggest problem came when one of the person involved didn’t share the sentimental education that the Jedi Order gave their children. Padawan were taught to speak openly about their feelings since childhood, to masters, to counselors, between themselves, the aim being to be able to rationalize emotion and deal with them without being clouded and misguided. When padawans hit their teen, or the developmental age in which hormones started to rush and was almost impossible not to feel a strong urge to discover love and sex, they were guided through relationships, learned to talk frankly with their partners, so that any problem and eventual breakups were less painful possible, and no bad feelings could develop. As an adult, a jedi could freely choose to be entirely celibate or to have relationships, and if the partner was a jedi too, it wasn’t much of a fuss. Mostly, it was an open secret that a lot of couples existed inside the order, nothing to make a show off, but neither to hide. 

Having a relationship with someone outside the order, on the other side, was a completely different thing, and often it was a total mess. Obi-Wan knew it well. 

Satine... her face never left his memory, and he could recognize he had a faint feeling for her, after all those years. Mostly because they had to depart. She was the next Duchess of Mandalore, he was a jedi. She wanted, kriff, she needed someone able to stay with her, to fight with her, to be... a partner. She even stated it, but she never asked him to be her partner. Had she asked... Obi-Wan knew that his answer would be yes. He’d left the Order, for her. With no remorse? That was entirely another question, with no easy answer. But a choice had to be made, there was no other way around. 

And that was where Anakin was having hard time to understand. That boy, kriff, that man didn’t understand that his master attempt to talk about Padmé was not an intrusion, was real concern. Obi-Wan was extremely worried, he tried to tell him that he, or anyone in the Order was more than willing to help him, but Anakin had the same problem since they found him on Tatooine, and that was the reason Master Yoda was so wary of the Chosen One. His tendency to hide his feelings, to storm out of a room, trying to convince everyone and himself that he was good, and he knew what he had to do, was a wall behind he was almost out of reach, even for the people who loved him most. 

If there wasn’t a war in sight, maybe Obi-Wan could just shrug it off as a thing to work with Anakin, in time, with the mental space his former padawan needed to mature more, but it wasn’t the moment. Not if they must be ready to leave Coruscant in any moment to fight a war where they could die in any moment, and with thousands of innocent lives, men built to be meat for the war, to watch upon. Clones deserved better, they needed a guidance able to remember that they were people too, and not machines to be used and discarded. They were slaves, in a sense, and Obi-Wan remembered the cold shivers he had on Camino, when he discovered them. It took all his training not to scream, when he saw all those kids, the apparent age of Anakin when he took him as padawan, all with the same age, learning war tactics and fight, and all those man, the same face again and again and again, ready to fight for a Republic that didn’t even know they existed and didn’t care for them. It was so much against all his deep beliefs and faith in the light side of the Force that he still feared the fist day of war, when he’ll be asked to guide them in battle. How could he, let all this men be killed in a war that was so clearly sensless, from the start? Satine was a pacifist, and they mostly agreed that war or conflicts were to be avoided til the last chance, that negotiation where always the best option. He wasn’t maybe so extreme as her, he agreed with Qui-Gon that some forme of defence was needed, but never offence. 

This war? Was really necessary? Weren’t they hardly failing already, as a democracy and as a Order, to let things slide so far. 

Another headache. 

Obi-Wan picked another glass of that sweet golden wine from Alderaan that smelled like flowers and remembered that there was no good in worrying about the future. Only the present, the Living Force. He almost felt the hand of Qui-Gon on his shoulder. Sometimes he had the impression that his late master whispered some wise words in his ears, but it was just grief and memory, he knew. He breathed deeply a couple of time, before drinking. 

Tomorrow. He’ll talk with Anakin, trying to put some good sense in that rocky head of his, but for now he was done. He went to the Chancellor to give his respect before leaving and headed to the Temple. 

Anakin saw him leaving. A pang of guilt hit him, he even thought to go and tell him something, maybe just that they would talk the next day, but Palpatine choose that moment to put a hand on his new prosthetic hand. 

“My boy!” the old man said, smiling. “I hope you’re enjoying this little party. And you look very handsome in this suit, much better than those baggy jedi suit. You should always dress in black, it suits you, you know! Don’t you agree, Senator Amidala?” He asked, looking at Padme and noticing that faint blush that colored the former Naboo queen, as she looked to Anakin, and smiled more. “I wish the jedi could lend you to us” he said, waving the hand to the hall full of people “more often, you’re our hero, you know! But I guess that being a jedi means sacrifice, isn’t it?”

Anakin nodded, smiling and exchanging a brief look with Padme, and they both looked away, a bit awkwardly. The thought of Obi-Wan was almost obliterate, just a distant worry behind the curtains. 

Palpatine smiled. Adulation was the right weapon, with Anakin. Oh, he knew it very well, afar form his former master and in the middle of coruscani jet set, Anakin was at his weakest... how easy it was! Palpatine had almost hard time restraining himself from laughing hard. 

The spider web was in place. 

[smileyjaeminies]

It’s For My Art

Synopsis: An idea pops into Kevin’s mind, so demanding he can’t seem to shake it off. What happens when the words fly past his lips?

Word Count: 3,2 k

Genre: fluff, university au!, artist Kevin x swimmer/special needs teacher reader

Warnings: none

Member: Kevin

A/N: This work was so hard to get right… I really hope I did it justice in the end. I’ve experimented with a new pov in this, I hope you like the change! Enjoy~

  Kevin was content with looking at you from afar. He leaned against the wall as Chanhee blabbered on to him and Jacob about one thing or the other. The loud music rang in his ears, in combination with the liquor in his cup. The smell of cigarettes and sweat filled the air and Kevin did his best to brush it off.

  He stole glances at you, trying to be sneaky and not stare too hard. You were sitting on the couch with some of your friends, giggling back and forth. Kevin hated the fact that you turned to your friend so much, showing him the view of your strong shoulders and back.

  The spaghetti sleeves of your dress did little to conceal your back, topped off with your hair tied in a high ponytail… It was enough to drive him wild. He nodded then and again, pretending to listen to his friend’s conversation as his thoughts became hazy.

  Kevin was an art major. Since he was little, his hands were filled with colour as he dug his little hands in whatever paint supplies he could find. Slowly but surely he cultivated his talent, which managed to grant him a position at one of the most prestigious universities in the country.

  As an artist, it was easy for him to find beauty in everything. The most mundane things sparked his interest and his inspiration derived from almost anything, to some spilled coffee on his kitchen counter, to the myriad of colours in a sunset.

  He recalled now seeing you for the first time only a week ago, in the grass outside the main building on your campus. Contrary to popular belief, almost no one sat on the grass at your campus, and yet there you were, lying on your stomach, feet up in the air, your nose buried inside a book and earplugs hanging from your ears.

  You were just perfect. Kevin had been looking for someone just like you, broad shoulders and back for the longest time for one of his long-term projects. He had tried some of his friends, but until then, it had taken too much convincing and too feeble a result for him to be satisfied.

 The past week, he couldn’t take you off his mind. The anonymous girl from uni, whose broad shoulders made his inspiration run wild. And now that you were standing only a few feet away from him, his mind was hazy with thoughts of you.

  “I’m getting another drink” he announced to his friends, earning an eager nod from Jacob.

  As he made his way to the kitchen, he scoured the rows of different bottles for something he recognized. His eyes landed upon a brand of tequila he knew he liked, so he reached for it. At that moment, another hand made its way on top of the bottle, holding a tight grip on the neck.

  Kevin’s eyes made yours across the kitchen island, making him gasp. You giggled at his unexpected reaction, cocking your head to one side in confusion.

  “Want one?” you asked him.

  “Yes” he simply answered, nodding his head for good measure.

  “Strong or easy? Can you handle your alcohol, sweetie?” you asked him again.

  “Sure” he answered as you poured both your drinks.

  “Ask her, you idiot” his brain was screaming at him. Yet he remained silent, accepting the cup you offered him while muttering a small thank you.

  “No problem, sweetie. Have fun!” you encouraged him, before turning right on your heels and walking out.

  “Fucking hell” he muttered to himself as he assumed his place with Jacob and Chanhee.

  Only this time, your eyes were on him. The encouraging smile on your lips made him shuffle in his spot, trying to weasel himself back in his friends’ conversation and ignore your stare.

  Some rounds of shots later, Kevin could definitely feel the effect of the alcohol running in his veins.

  “I’m just going to ask. She can always say no. It’s no big deal. I’ll just re-take the damn class” he was telling his friends.

  “Do you really think this is the time and place to ask her? She could say no just because she gets the wrong idea. Why don’t you-” Chanhee was trying to reason with him, when Kevin caught you making your way to the kitchen.

  “I’m doing it now. Wish me luck” he said over his shoulder, already walking towards the kitchen.

  A few shoves and a shower of sorry’s later, he was standing near you once again. After a deep breath, he mustered up the courage to lightly poke you and introduce himself. You turned around, your eyes shining in recognition once they fell on him.

  “Hi, sweetie” you told him.

  “Hi, I’m Kevin” he announced.

  You giggled, nodding your head.

  “Do you want me to fix you another drink, Kevin?” You asked.

  “No, thank you” he replied.

  “Well then, I’ll be going” you said, moving past him.

  Kevin acted quickly, afraid that he was going to lose you.

  “Can I paint your back?” the words flew past his lips before he knew it.

  You turned around, a curious look on your face when you regarded him. At least it wasn’t horrified or disgusted.

  “What?” you asked, your voice getting a little bit high pitched.

  “It’s not a weird thing I promise! I- I’m an art major and we’re doing this project were we have to paint something on anything but a canvas and I was trying out painting on people’s backs and I think yours would work perfect with my theme so I thought, hey, she’ll either think I’m a fucking weirdo or she’ll like the idea and help me with a fun project” Kevin rambled, the words flowing out of him in a hurry to make you understand.

  You stayed quiet, looking at him and he only hoped you were considering his proposal.

  “A project. And you want to paint… On my back?” you ask, your head falling on one side.

  “Yes.” Kevin was quick to answer you.

  You took a few more moments to think, before you started shaking your head. Kevin’s face fell as he felt the rejection approaching. His mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to get to you.

  “Look, Kevin, was it? I’m too drunk for this right now. Let me… Think about it after my hangover.” You proposed.

  “Yes! Yes, take all the time you need, of course” Kevin was quick to comply.

  You reached inside the pocket of your jeans, retrieving your cell phone and handing it to him.

  “Put your phone in there. Imma text you” you said and Kevin did as he was told.

  “‘Weird back guy’? Wow, you hardly give yourself enough credit” you joked.

  “Well, I thought that Kevin would be a little too vague. Maybe ‘Weird back guy’ is going to ring a bell” he said with a light laugh.

  You laughed along with him as you both walked back out to the living room.

  “You’re decent… For a weird back guy I met at a party.” You said.

  “I’ll take it as a compliment. Just text me whenever, okay?” he asked.

  “Sure thing, sweetie” you said, rejoining your friends.

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

  Days flowed by as classes and life managed to distract Kevin from longingly looking at his phone. He was sat on his desk, an array of materials and pieces of paper surrounding him, classical music flowing through his speaker to keep him focused as his hands worked ceaselessly.

  Projects were piling up and he had to get his portfolio ready for the professors to look through. In a streak of creativity, he was pouring out piece after piece, not bothering to inspect them for mistakes, only rushing to work on the next one.

  The dinging of his phone pulled him out of his trance. He completed some finishing touches to his drawing, before cleaning his hands and reaching for his phone.

Unknown

Hey Kevin! It’s Y/N, you know, from the party?

  Kevin’s heart danced in his chest as he read the message. Finally, you had texted him! Pushing his thoughts on the back of his mind, he texted you back.

Kevin’s phone

Of course I remember you! I’m so glad you reached out, and finally I know your name haha

Y/N

Omg that’s so embarrassing I never introduced myself-

Sorry about that, I guess I was too out of it lol

Kevin’s phone

Don’t sweat it, I’m just glad you reached out at all

Y/N

So about that… I did some thinking and then I grew tired of doing it so now I’m saying fuck it

I’m in

  Kevin almost screamed in delight reading the last text. A smile spread on his face as his thoughts were swarmed with things he could draw. Inspiration flowed like a river, drowning his thoughts and making his head ache. He felt jittery, his leg bouncing up and down with excitement.

  Realizing he still hadn’t answered your text, his fingers worked fast on the keyboard.

Kevin’s phone

That’s amazing to hear! I’m so glad you’ll help, I was so ready to just drop everything and hide

Y/N

I’m glad I’m doing this too! It’s going to be fun, right?

Kevin’s phone

Most definitely! I’ll try not to bore you out of your mind lol

When are you free? We can do this in my place since I have all my supplies and whatnot

Y/N

Sure thing! Um, I’m free all afternoon Thursday, is that okay?

  After figuring out a few technical things, like the exact time and giving you directions to his dorm room, Kevin threw his phone on his bed. Giddy with excitement he bounced on his chair as he went through his supplies, making sure he had all the colours he needed.

  This is really happening, huh, he thought to himself as the smile on his lips didn’t seem to falter.

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

  Thursday afternoon came along sooner than Kevin would have liked. He did everything in his power to clean his dorm room, efficiently kicking Jacob out to give you both some privacy.

  Right on time, a knock on his door alerted Kevin of your arrival. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he opened the door for you. You smiled at him and greeted him politely. Kevin was torn between hugging you and merely sharking your hand, when you stepped forward, wrapping your hands around his torso and letting yourself in.

  You leisurely sat down on his bed as if you owned the place, striking up a pleasant conversation with him. After talking to you for a while, he decided to finally take the initiative.

  “If you don’t mind, I think we should get started soon or I’ll lose all the natural light” he told you.

  Your eyes widened for a mere second, so fast he almost missed it. You quickly composed yourself, not saying anything, only nodding at his request.

  “I’m going to go to the bathroom, leave you some time to change. Call for me when you’re ready, okay?” he asked.

  “Okay” you said, but from the tone of your voice he could tell you’re your demeanor was slowly changing.

  “Hey, Y/N, at any point you want me to stop, just say the word. It’s okay, I promise. There’s no point in doing this if you don’t want to.” He tried to reassure you.

  A small smile made its way to your lips as you whispered a thank you. Kevin only nodded, getting in the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the door as a million pictures rushed behind his eyelids.

  A certain picture kept resurfacing, a cloudy night sky, with some stars still shining through. He knew that was what he was going to be painting today. He only prayed that it would be good enough for his professor.

  “I’m ready now” your voice called from the other room.

  Kevin made straight for his painting supplies, his hands itching to prepare the colours he needed. From the corner of his eye, he saw you lying down on his bed, your top laying neatly folded a few inches away from your head.

  “Do you need another pillow? Are you comfortable enough?” he asked.

  “I think I’m okay. I just don’t know what to do with my hands” you said with a laugh.

  “Don’t worry about it, just try not to fold them if that’s okay” he requested.

  A nod came from you as Kevin finished preparing his colours. The atmosphere was tense as he took a stool to sit next to you, hovering over your body.

  “So… Music?” he asked

  “What about it?” you asked him in return.

  “Do you want to play some? I think I’d bore you too much with the classical music I use when I paint” he said.

  “Okay… Well, there’s been one album I’ve been dying to listen to” you said and Kevin hummed.

  He showed you how to connect your phone to the speaker and was very surprised when you played one of his favourite band’s new album.

  “That’s literally one of my favourite bands” he confessed.

  “Really? That’s so awesome! I only discovered them a few years ago… They’re too good” you said.

  “They really are” Kevin admitted.

  He timidly placed his brush on your body, making you shiver. He chuckled at your reaction, while you let out an awkward laugh.

  “Probably should’ve said something. Sorry” he apologized.

  “It’s okay” you mumbled.

  “So, how did you get to know them again?” he asked you.

  The conversation flowed easily from there on as you seemed to relax more and more under his fingers. He worked while you two talked, allowing his mind to roam free as his hands moved almost without him noticing.

  Sometime later, the album had finished playing and a calm silence had overtaken the room. Kevin’s eyebrows were scrunched together as he placed the finishing touches on his work. Taking a step back he admired his work, until his eyes fell on your face.

  You had fallen asleep somewhere in between, your mouth now hanging open as you breathed evenly. Kevin smiled lightly, as he shook his head. He really had bored you to sleep.

  Taking his camera, he stood on top of your body to take some pictures of the painting on your back. However, his attention was brought to your soft features, your arm hanging down from the bed, palm outstretched, the shapes your hair outlined as they danced over the pillow, the lines of your nose and mouth.

  The clicking of his camera came and went and he could already imagine the way he could edit those later. He tried not to show your features too much, careful not to give away your identity, although he could tell he could hardly show these pictures to anyone but you.

  Putting his camera back in its case, a sigh escaped his lips. He looked back in all he had learned about you today. You were studying to be a special needs teacher, hoping to help children through your work. You had scored a scholarship through swimming, explaining your broad shoulders and strong back. You lived out of campus in a small apartment with your best friend. Your friends were real fun to be around and you loved hanging out with them, but sometimes you found that they were moving too fast for you.

  You liked a lot of the same bands and pretty much listened to the same music. You hanged out at your apartment most of the time, savoring the peace and quiet and opting out from clubs, finding that house parties, quite like the one you met at, were more your style. You favored books over movies and absolutely despised modern art. You also hated poetry, one of your professors and mint chocolate ice cream.

  He realized then, he had gotten so much information just from talking to you on and off as he worked. He couldn’t even imagine how sitting down to actually talk to you would be.

  At that moment, Kevin realized he really wanted to see you again, to get to know you better and he would make sure that would happen.

  He sat in the corner of his bed, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking you gently. He called your name, but you didn’t seem to stir. Without thinking much of it, he run his hand through your hair in a soothing manner and tried calling your name again.

  This time, you did stir, your eyes opening with effort. A small groan escaped you as Kevin continued running his fingers through your hair. He smiled down at you, not even bothering to hide it.

  “Sorry to wake you, I just thought you might have to leave or something” he told you.

  You stirred, turning to lay on your back and Kevin immediately looked away from your topless form. From the corner of his eye he saw you rubbing your eyes sleepily, humming as an answer to his words.

  “I don’t have anything to do actually, I cleared my afternoon just for you” you said with a laugh.

  “Oh, I’m honored” he told you, eyes still stuck on the opposite wall.

  “Kevin” you called him, sitting up.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  Your hand was on his chin, your touch so light it felt like he almost dreamt it.

  “I want you to look at me” you whispered, turning his head for your eyes to lock.

  His eyes landed on yours and he was shocked to find you looking at him with hooded eyes. His gaze fell to your lips and felt himself take in a sharp breath.

  “I am looking at you” he said, his eyes finding yours again.

  Like magnets, you moved at the same time, finding each other somewhere in between the distance that was separating you. Your lips found each other in an experimental and passionate kiss, as Kevin’s hands buried themselves in your hair.

  Leaving your lips, he peppered kisses all across your face, before moving to your jaw and neck. Not yet satisfied, his lips found yours again, as the kiss only deepened.

  Breaking away, you moved backwards a bit, tracing his cheek with your hand. He tried reading your eyes and he could clearly see that you were thinking about something, although he wasn’t sure what.

  “What is it?” he asked you in a whisper.

  “Nothing. I’m just glad I came” you told him with a smile, placing a small peck on his nose.

  Without giving him a chance to say anything in return, you get up from his bed, getting your things and disappearing in his bathroom. Kevin hears the shower being turned on, which snaps him back into reality.

  As he finishes packing up his supplies and the spare sheet he had used for you to lay on, now filled with colour, you emerge from the bathroom.

  “Hey” you greet him with a smile.

  “Hey” he says as he smiles back at you.

  “So I’m craving some Chinese food. Care to join?” you ask him.

  The smile on Kevin’s face only grows as he gets on his feet, walking up to you. He holds your hand in his before saying,

  “What are we waiting for?”

[shadowfromthestarlight]

The moment a group of people stormed the Capitol building last Wednesday, news  companies began the process of sorting and commoditizing information that  long ago became standard in American media.

Media firms work backward. They first ask, “How does our target demographic want to  understand what’s just unfolded?” Then they pick both the words and the facts  they want to emphasize.

It’s why  Fox News uses the term, “Pro-Trump protesters,” while New York and The Atlantic use “Insurrectionists.” It’s why conservative media today is stressing how Apple, Google, and Amazon shut down the “Free Speech” platform Parler over  the weekend, while mainstream outlets are emphasizing a new round of  potentially armed protests reportedly planned for January 19th or 20th.

What happened last Wednesday was the apotheosis of the Hate Inc. era, when this  audience-first model became the primary means of communicating facts to the population. For a hundred reasons dating back to the mid-eighties, from the advent of the Internet to the development of the 24-hour news cycle to the end of the Fairness Doctrine and the Fox-led  discovery that news can be sold as character-driven, episodic TV in the  manner of soap operas, the concept of a “Just the facts” newscast designed to  be consumed by everyone died out.

News companies now clean world events like whalers, using every part of the  animal, funneling different facts to different consumers based upon  calculations about what will bring back the biggest engagement kick. The  Migrant Caravan? Fox slices  off comments from a Homeland Security official describing most of the  border-crossers as single adults coming for “economic reasons.” The New York Times counters  by running a story about how the caravan was deployed as a political issue by a Trump White  House staring at poor results in midterm elections.

Repeat this info-sifting process a few billion times and this is how we became, as none other than Mitch McConnell put it last week, a country:

Drifting apart into two separate tribes, with a separate set of facts and separate realities, with nothing in common except our hostility towards each other and mistrust for the few national institutions that we all still share.

The flaw in the system is that even the biggest news companies now operate under the assumption that at least half their potential audience isn’t listening. This leads to all sorts of problems, and the fact that the easiest way to keep your own demographic is to feed it negative stories about others is only the most  obvious. On all sides, we now lean into inflammatory caricatures, because the  financial incentives encourage it.

Everyone monetized Trump. The Fox  wing surrendered to the Trump phenomenon from the start, abandoning its  supposed fealty to “family values” from the Megyn Kelly incident on. Without  a thought, Rupert Murdoch sacrificed the paper-thin veneer of  pseudo-respectability Fox  had always maintained up to a point (that point being the moment advertisers  started to bail in horror, as they did with Glenn Beck). He reinvented Fox as a platform for  Trump’s conspiratorial brand of cartoon populism, rather than let some more-Fox-than-Fox imitator like OAN sell the  ads to Trump’s voters for four years.

In between its titillating quasi-porn headlines (“Lesbian Prison Gangs Waiting To Get Hands on Lindsay  Lohan, Inmate Says” is one from years ago that stuck in my mind), Fox’s business model has  long been based on scaring the crap out of aging Silent Majority viewers with  a parade of anything-but-the-truth explanations for America’s decline. It  villainized immigrants, Muslims, the new Black Panthers, environmentalists —  anyone but ADM, Wal-Mart, Countrywide, JP Morgan Chase, and other sponsors of  Fortress America. Donald Trump was one of the people who got hooked on Fox’s  narrative.

The rival media ecosystem chose cash over truth also. It could have responded to  the last election by looking harder at the tensions they didn’t see coming in  Trump’s America, which might have meant a more intense examination of the  problems that gave Trump his opening: the jobs that never came back after  bankers and retailers decided to move them to unfree labor zones in places  like China, the severe debt and addiction crises, the ridiculous  contradiction of an expanding international military garrison manned by a  population fast losing belief in the mission, etc., etc.

Instead, outlets like CNN and MSNBC took a Fox-like approach, downplaying issues in  favor of shoving Trump’s agitating personality in the faces of audiences over  and over, to the point where many people could no longer think about anything  else. To juice ratings, the Trump story — which didn’t need the slightest  exaggeration to be fantastic — was more or less constantly distorted.

Trump  began to be described as a cause of America’s problems, rather than a symptom,  and his followers, every last one, were demonized right along with him, in  caricatures that tickled the urbane audiences of channels like CNN but made  conservatives want to reach for something sharp. This technique was borrowed  from Fox,  which learned in the Bush years that you could boost ratings by selling  audiences on the idea that their liberal neighbors were terrorist traitors.  Such messaging worked better by far than bashing al-Qaeda, because this enemy  was closer, making the hate more real.

I came  into the news business convinced that the traditional “objective” style of  reporting was boring, deceptive, and deserving of mockery. I used to laugh at  the parade of “above the fray” columnists and stone-dull house editorials  that took no position on anything and always ended, “Only one thing’s for  sure: time will tell.” As a teenager I was struck by a passage in Tim  Crouse’s book about the 1972 presidential campaign, The Boys in the Bus, describing  the work of Hunter Thompson:

Thompson  had the freedom to describe the campaign as he actually experienced it: the  crummy hotels, the tedium of the press bus, the calculated lies of the press  secretaries, the agony of writing about the campaign when it seemed dull and  meaningless, the hopeless fatigue. When other reporters went home, their  wives asked them, “What was it really like?” Thompson’s wife knew from  reading his pieces.

What Rolling Stone did in  giving a political reporter the freedom to write about the banalities of the  system was revolutionary at the time. They also allowed their writer to be a  sides-taker and a rooter, which seemed natural and appropriate because biases  end up in media anyway. They were just hidden in the traditional dull  “objective” format.

The  problem is that the pendulum has swung so far in the opposite direction of  politicized hot-taking that reporters now lack freedom in the opposite  direction, i.e. the freedom to mitigate.

If you  work in conservative media, you probably felt tremendous pressure all  November to stay away from information suggesting Trump lost the election. If  you work in the other ecosystem, you probably feel right now that even  suggesting what happened last Wednesday was not a coup in the literal sense  of the word (e.g. an attempt at seizing power with an actual chance of  success) not only wouldn’t clear an editor, but might make you suspect in the  eyes of co-workers, a potentially job-imperiling problem in this environment.  

We need  a new media channel, the press version of a third party, where those  financial pressures to maintain audience are absent. Ideally, it would:

not be aligned with either Democrats or Republicans;

employ a Fairness Doctrine-inspired approach that discourages       groupthink and requires at  least occasional explorations of alternative points of view;

embrace a utilitarian mission stressing credibility over ratings, including by;

operating on a distribution model that as  much as possible doesn’t depend upon the indulgence of Apple, Google, and Amazon.

Innovations like Substack are great for opinionated individual voices like me, but what’s  desperately needed is an institutional reporting mechanism that has credibility with the whole population. That means a channel that sees its mission as something separate from politics, or at least as separate from politics as possible.

The media used to derive its institutional power from this perception of separateness. Politicians feared investigation by the news media precisely because they knew audiences perceived them as neutral arbiters.

Now there are no major commercial outlets not firmly associated with one or the other political party. Criticism of Republicans is as baked into New York Times coverage as the lambasting of Democrats is at Fox, and politicians don’t fear them as much because they know their  constituents do not consider rival media sources credible. Probably, they  don’t even read them. Echo chambers have limited utility in changing minds.

Media companies need to get out of the audience-stroking business, and by extension  the politics business. They’d then be more likely to be believed when making  pronouncements about elections or masks or anything else, for that matter.  Creating that kind of outlet also has a much better shot of restoring sanity  to the country than the current strategy, which seems based on stamping out  access to “wrong” information.

What we’ve been watching for four years, and what we saw explode last week, is a paradox: a political and informational system that profits from division and  conflict, and uses a factory-style process to stimulate it, but professes  shock and horror when real conflict happens. It’s time to admit this is a  failed system. You can’t sell hatred and seriously expect it to end.

Matt Taibbi is one of the only people I subscribe to. He’s one of the few journalists I like because I actually believe he’s genuine.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #357

“your magic white rabbit has left its writing on the wall  /  we follow like alice, and just keep diving down the hole”

Are you better at telling stories or writing them? Writing, by a long shot. What’s one song you hate, but know every word to? i'm a barbie girl in a fckn barbie woooooorld What’s your favorite magazine? I don’t read magazines. If you could be an animal for one day, which animal would you choose? Probably a house cat. Be indoors and safe, able to just nap... lol. But I'd want another cat as a friend, too! Do you prefer outdoor or indoor concerts/events? Indoors, by a mile. I get hot outside way too easily. Do you know if you were a planned child? I don't know. What’s your favorite gem? Dragon's breath opal. As an adult, do you want to live in an apartment or a house? I'd like to live in a house, especially with the pets I want. I doubt many apartment complexes would allow multiple reptiles and inverts. Do you like the stem or leafy part of the broccoli? It doesn't matter much to me, but I prefer the stem. The texture is more likeable to me. Do bats frighten you? No, I adore bats! Does Paris appeal to you? Yeah, it's a pretty place. Are you a KPOP fan? No, I've never really checked it out. How long was your longest relationship? Over three and a half years. First time you kissed the last person you kissed? We were outside roasting marshmallows one night. Do you have to really know someone to kiss them? Absolutely. I don't dish 'em out for nothing. Were you anyone’s first kiss? No. If you had to be named after one of the 50 states of America, what state would you WANT to be named after? I actually think "Nevada" would be kinda pretty as a name? Do you think morals are universal or relative to the beliefs, traditions, or practices of individuals or groups? I've wondered this for a long while, really. I lean towards it being a mix, maybe? But more towards universal, I think... with some exceptions. This answer is all over the place, I honestly don't know. Is torture ever a good option? If no, why not? If yes, when? No? I think the "why not" is obvious... You just don't. What do you think is one one of the most undervalued professions right now? Teachers, garbagemen, retail and food workers... There's a lot. Have you ever seen anyone have a heart attack? Thank Christ no. Have you personalized your answering machine/voicemail? No. Have you ever had Fiji brand water? I actually don't believe I have, though it's always looked appealing to me, haha. What’s your favorite horror movie? The Crazies and the first Silent Hill, as well as both Blair Witch Projects. What was the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? I'd rather not even think about things the bitch said to me. Are you biracial? No. When was the last time you got mad and broke something? I've never broken something when mad. What color dress did you wear to prom? My first was maroon, second one was black. Who is the cutest baby you know? My friend has a daughter named Scarlett who is absolutely gorgeous. Have you ever thrown a rock at a window? No, because I respect people's fucking property. Has anyone ever thrown a rock at your window? No. Does your hair react well to dye, or does it damage it? It likes to not take dye at all. >.> I have only had one instance where a friend dyed it red and it stuck for months and months, but we kept it in for a couple hours, I think. My normal hairdresser says it's because my hair is really healthy and I guess rejects it. What kind of pet do you wish you had? I ramble plenty about how I want tarantulas and more reptiles, haha. I also DESPERATELY want to rescue or foster an opossum. When was the last time you were diagnosed with something? Are you concerned about anything regarding your physical or mental health at the moment? I haven't been diagnosed with anything in quite some time, I believe, but as I'm going through the process of being approved for TMS therapy for my depression, my bipolar diagnosis is being questioned, which is... strange to me. It's been acknowledged by many a doctor that I have bipolar 2, but if insurance recognizes my primary diagnosis as bipolar, they won't cover TMS because it can massively excite the mania portion of bipolarity, and therefore I can't do it because we can't manually afford it. I'm willing to take the risk by far, as I've never had issues with mania, but I can't without insurance. I'm just waiting to hear back from them... What is one blanket judgment you tend to make about people (like, you judge all people who live at home, all people who drink, etc)? Does this judgment come from a particular personal experience? I really don't know. How do you react to other people yelling or slamming doors? Is this something you ever do too? I get very scared if it's a man. I don't like anyone doing it, and my anxiety will spike regardless, I'm just terrified of angry men. Have you ever lost your cool at work or somewhere else important? What happened as a result? No. Who has the power to break you? Jason still might. I don't know. Is anyone in your family blind? My sister is legally blind in one eye. Do you believe in evolution? Yeah. I do find the concept odd, that ALL LIFE originated from one thing, but I sure ain't got a better explanation, so. What job do you think people should be paid the most for? Surgeons, maybe? I dunno, that's a big question. Were you ever held back a year in school? Did you ever skip a grade? No. Have you ever been given a hickey? Have you given one? Yeah to both. What is your least favourite thing about your full name? I have the most basic white bitch middle name in the world, lol. Do you like the age you are? Eh, I don't mind it much, but I think it'd be better to be in my early 20s versus mid 20s. I'm just always so tired now. I can't believe I used to refuse to go to sleep before 10:30. What’s your favourite kind of poptart? The chocolate sundae one. If you had to eat one type (Chinese, etc.) of food which would it be? American bc I'm not very adventurous with food at all. When did your family immigrate to wherever you live now? *shrug* Are your fingers long, or short? Long. Mom's always said I have "piano fingers." Do you play Pokemon Go? If so, what level are you and who’s your buddy? Yeah, I love it, but don't play it nearly as much as I want because I don't exactly go anywhere, lol. My bud's Charmeleon, and I'm probably like five EXP from level 28. Do you ever sit indoors and wear sunglasses or a hat? I don't own either, so. Do you know how to read animals’ behavior? I honestly think I'm very good at it. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? Yes, but not as much as I used to. All I really play nowadays is World of Warcraft. The only working console I have is a PS2, and I haven't bought a new game in probably a couple years, but there are definitely ones I want to play, mainly on PS4. Just can't afford it right now. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? No. There's no way I could, given my tremors. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? Books. When is the last time you ate donuts? It's been months, man. I've seriously been craving a glazed one, though. Krispy Kreme sounds amaaaaaziiiiiing. Has anyone ever called you sexy? Somehow. Do you like raisins? NO NO NO NO NO. Have you ever overheard a conversation you weren’t supposed to? More than once. Do you like ants? They're genuinely extremely fascinating animals, but they're seriously annoying nevertheless. Did you like the movie Antz? I loved it as a kid. What was your favorite ice cream flavor when you were little? Chocolate. Is it still your favorite? Eh, depends on the day. By the way, what is your name? Brittany. What time zone do you live in? EST. Do you like cats? I love cats. What’s the most creepy experience you’ve ever had? One night when my mom and sister were at the beach for a dance competition, I was having trouble sleeping, and it only got worse when my dog Teddy started freaking the fuck out, barking loudly and staring intently at the foot of the bed. I was so scared that I tried to force his head to lie down, but he fought against me. I was terrified, but got up out of the bed and went into the living room to call my mom at like 3 in the damn morning, and she had to have our neighbor come over to sleep in the house with me (I was in a different room that night). You can't convince me that there wasn't paranormal shit going on. I think the house was haunted honestly, for multiple reasons. What’s the most boring game to exist? Why do you dislike it so much? Hm, I dunno. What’s the coolest place that you've ever been to? What’d you do there? Disney World was very memorable as a kid. We just went around collecting signatures, going on rides, all that fun stuff. I'll never forget fireworks at the castle. If you’re interested in having a long-term relationship with someone, do you think that waiting a certain amount of time before you first have sex is a good idea? Or does it not matter? I think it's a good idea, personally, mostly for the sake of reducing the spread of STDs. Just because you think you'll be long-term, doesn't mean you will be. Besides that, isn't there a science that sex and feelings of love are connected? Like, sex is impossible without at least some underlying emotions? I might be entirely wrong, in which case forgive me for spreading misinformation, but if that's so and things don't go as planned, you've gotten emotionally invested in someone too early and wind up getting hurt. You do you, I just don't think it's smart. Have you ever discovered something big by looking through someone’s phone, Facebook, email, etc.? No. Have you kept anything from your past relationships? (Things they left at your house, gifts, notes, etc) Do you think that’s a big deal for future relationships or not? Yeah, like plushies and little stuff like that. When it's tiny things like I just mentioned, I really don't think it matters. I think some things might be questionable to keep, but at the same time, I don't think it's really wrong to keep memories of a happy time, if the thing still brings you joy and has been emotionally disconnected from the ex? Idk. Do you have any financial regrets? Either way, what’s an example of a GOOD financial decision you’ve made? Going to and dropping out of college three fucking times. I don't know about a good financial decision seeing as I'm not even in charge of my own finances, nor really have any to begin with. Are you a believer in “signs” from the Universe about things in your life? If you are, can you think of a particular example? No. Name some things that one or both of your parents are really good at or really interested in. Mom LOVES medical stuff, like watching surgeries and stuff like that. She is also absolutely incredible with children. Dad likes sports a lot, hockey and football especially. Think of a good friend of the opposite sex (currently or in the past). Have you ever had any sort of “more than a friend” or sexual thoughts about them? If not, can you explain why? Well, we dated briefly, so... It was awkward to, but I let myself imagine sexual situations a few times to help myself understand if I really did like-like him, or if he was truly just a brother to me. Turns out, he's a bro. If someone told you that you would never achieve something and you ended up doing it, would you have any interest in finding that person and showing them? I'ma be honest, yes. I wouldn't actively seek them out, but rather just hope they somehow find out or I run into them or something. What is the most jealousy-induced thing you’ve ever done? Apparently, be the girl Juan liked instead of this girl that literally threatened to deck me. Guess what? We're friends now lmaoooo.

[softsichenghours]

metanoia {m.l}

summary: after a painful breakup, you set out on a journey to live your life, never thinking the boy at the gas station would bring the most meaning into it. 

word count: 11.2k (i went a little overboard) 

category: fluff, a little bit of angst, soulmates au

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of religion, a tad bit suggestive, death

a/n: yukhei, johnny, and donghyuck are side characters, the song mentioned is slow it down by the lumineers, props to you if you can find the quote from the end of the f****** world, heavily inspired by the world is ending and i’m with you by @jaeminlore​ so pls check that out too

you and your soulmate have matching tattoos that become clear once you meet.

metanoia: the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life. 

you had a secret. a secret you could tell nobody. not your friends, not your family, not your boyfriend. well, you couldn't tell him because it was about him. well, your relationship with him. that sounds terrible. the secret about your relationship that you kept hidden away from your boyfriend wasn't a bad secret. yes it was. it wasn't a secret like you were cheating on him or you knew something bad that he didn't, but you knew it could hurt you both in many ways. 

your boyfriend yukhei was wonderful. he was the light of your life, always creating sunshine wherever he went. he could help you out of your bad moods in an instant and he dealt with your nihilistic views on the world, despite his opposite beliefs. he was a smooth talking flirt, which was what first pulled you in to him a year ago. 

the concept of soulmates was something so cherished in your society. when you met your soulmate, your matching tattoos appeared on your body. for years you watched as your friends in middle school and high school got their tattoos with their high school sweethearts. you were convinced you were never going to get yours, although you were still very young.

it was a cold winter's day when you met yukhei. you and your friend were walking into a café, as yukhei and his friend were walking out. had either of you been delayed by even ten seconds, you wouldn’t have met. yukhei called it fate, you called it coincidence (you were never one to indulge in such foolish concepts such as fate, magic, destiny, etc.) you wore your brand new cream coloured knit turtleneck and yukhei spilled his hot coffee all over it while running into you. he must've apologized ten times over but you shrugged it off, more annoyed that the coffee was basically scalding your skin. you offered to buy him another, but he denied. instead, yukhei bought you and your friend your drinks and even tried to compensate you for the price of your sweater (which you wouldn't take. it was just a shirt). 

once the two boys had left the café, your friend started babbling about how she thought one of them was her soulmate. she said she felt a tingling on her skin, never mentioning where, but saying that her older sister told her that's what the tattoo felt like when it appeared. she said she had a suspicion that it was yukhei’s friend.

within ten minutes, the boys were back in the café. you watched them discuss something on the snowy sidewalk before entering the tiny shop again, the christmas chimes clattering. your friend held her breath when they made their way back over. 

“uh, hey again.” yukhei smiled sheepishly, snowflakes dusting his hair and shoulders. “it seems that i've lost my number.”

“huh?” you chuckled in response, sipping your hot cocoa.

“i lost my number. can i have yours?” 

that's how smooth wong yukhei was. that's how you ended up falling in love with him. 

but you had a secret. yukhei was not your soulmate. 

yukhei got his tattoo. a little sun right on the inside of his wrist. you were falling for him and although you knew it was wrong and useless to be in a relationship with him if you weren't soulmates, you didn't want to let him go. 

so you lied. you said that your sun tattoo had shown up on a part of your body that was too personal to show him. but a year into your relationship and it was still too personal to show when he asked. because you didn't have it.

you cursed the gods or whatever had created soulmates. you knew of people who hated their soulmate when they first met. you knew of people who's soulmates had died and then they were alone forever. but you cursed them because you loved yukhei and he wasn't yours.

your secret was about to be revealed.

you and yukhei had been fighting a lot recently. over stupid things that every couple fought over. you wanted to get a new apartment away from the noisy city, he didn't. he wanted to get a pet, you didn't. neither of you did the dishes and now they were piling up in the sink. every couple fought about these things, but soulmates were able to resolve them easily. you hated to admit it, but your feelings for yukhei were fading. it was because he wasn't your soulmate. 

you tossed and turned in your shared bed, not being able to sleep because of the noise outside your window. your apartment with yukhei was right in the middle of the city, where it was loud day and night. 

after hearing a particularly loud and aggressive honk from a car horn, you sat up in bed, rubbing your temples and praying for yukhei to change his mind about moving. 

“why are you awake?” he mumbled, turning to face you, his eyes still half shut with sleep. 

“how are you asleep?” you sighed, wondering how he could sleep with all the noise. 

“just ignore it.” he suggested, like it was a world changing idea. you rolled your eyes and got out of bed, hoping the couch would provide more comfort to your ears. 

“i can't “just ignore” it.” you mocked his voice as you trailed out of the room. 

“seriously?” yukhei groaned, getting up to follow you. you didn't want to argue right then, in the middle of the night. 

you walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water first. yukhei followed and leaned against the counter, watching you intently, like a detective interrogating a criminal in a movie.

“what is it, xuxi?” you asked, clearly agitated, using his mandarin name. 

“why do we always have to fight? soulmates don't fight like this.” soulmates. your secret had become heavier and heavier to bare lately. 

“i don't know.” you said bluntly. “maybe we just want different things, yukhei. i want to have a good nights sleep for once, but you don't want to move so that can happen.” you snapped. this was so stupid, and you both knew it was. you put your cup in the sink after taking only two sips, and tried to walk away from him. 

“but soulmates don't want different things–”

“we’re not even soulmates, xuxi.” you let your biggest secret slip out of your mouth. just like that. the cat was out of the bag. 

yukhei was silent for a moment. “w-what?” he asked, even lightly chuckling as if he thought you were joking. when you turned around to look at him, you knew he was connecting the dots. 

“that’s why you never wanted to show me your tattoo. because–because…” he couldn't finish his sentence. 

“because i don't have it.” you finished for him. an uncomfortable silence settled over the dark room, both of you truly realizing that you weren't soulmates. 

“i'm sorry, yuk–”

“you knew all this time and you didn't tell me? then who's my soulmate?!” he exasperated in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air. 

“it must be someone else you met that day…” you said in a quiet voice. it was silent again. 

“you lied to me for a year?” he spoke into the dark silence, tears collecting in his usually sparkling eyes. you didn't mean to make him cry. you didn't want him to cry. his watery eyes caused yours to fill up. 

“i didn't lie, i just–” you didn't know what to say. “i love you, yukhei.” you stepped closer to him, your fingers wrapping around his slender wrist. but you knew it was too late. he pulled away from you and turned his head to look at the floor as his tears fell. you shouldn't have said anything.  

“i thought only soulmates could truly love each other.” he scoffed, wiping at his eyes ashamedly. you realized something. 

“so you only loved me because you thought i was your soulmate?” you questioned, your eyebrows furrowing and your eyes burning into the man standing in front of you. your tears started to fall. “i loved you even though i knew you weren't mine.” 

yukhei took one fleeting look at you, and from the expression written all over his face, you knew it was over.

if there was one thing your parents taught you, it was that you had to live your life the way you wanted to. you couldn't let other people boss you around or tell you what to do. your life was your story, and you had to write it word for word.

that's how you ended up in your van that must've been over ten years old, aimlessly driving down the highway. you knew you had to get away from your life. your break up with yukhei was your reality hit. everything was meaningless anyway, so why not? you wanted to see as much of the world as you could and what could be a better time than during heartbreak? 

so you took your savings, shoved a mattress onto a wood palette in the back of your van, and hit the road. you didn't know where you were going, but you had been driving for a few hours now. you kept going, despite the tears blurring your vision that you tried to desperately blink away, despite the sun setting and darkness setting in, despite the rain furiously slapping against your windshield. wait, when had it started raining? you were so consumed in your own thoughts that you hadn't even realized the change it the weather. maybe it was time to take a break.

you stopped at a gas station in the nearest small town. the roads seemed too quiet, but maybe it was because it was after dark. you stepped out into the pouring rain, getting drenched almost as soon as your foot hit the ground. you ran inside, not noticing a pair of eyes watching you from inside the store. 

“is that everything…?” the boy behind the counter asked hesitantly, his fingers tapping the edge of the surface out of habit. you both glanced down at your array of foods you had dropped from your arms; chips, those rotated hotdogs that definitely weren't real meat, beef jerky, a box of tissues, and three cans of redbull. 

“yes.” you replied dryly, a slight chuckle escaping your lips. 

“roadtrip?” he questioned as he scanned the items. 

“you could say that.” 

it was silent for another moment. all you could hear was the low hum of the electric open sign, the deep buzz of the freezers, and the crinkle of the plastic bag he was putting your food into.

you finally looked up, grabbing your wallet from your pocket, letting your eyes examine the boy in front of you. he looked young, your age or younger. you couldn't deny that he was cute—high, sculpted cheekbones, smooth, fair skin, wide doe eyes. 

his eyes were what attracted you to him the most. when they finally met yours, you noticed that they sparkled, almost. you couldn't look away from them. you felt an itching sensation on your chest near your shoulder, almost like a tingle that you couldn't describe. 

you paid for your stuff and exited the store, stepping back into the rain. but you stopped in your tracks, something coming to your mind. something that had been described to you before. you turned your head in either direction to make sure no one was watching you before pulling the front of your shirt out and glancing down at your chest. and there it was, right above your heart. a single music note tattoo. you were sure that hadn't been there before. 

you were on this journey to find yourself and find happiness in this dreary world, and that's how you found yourself going back into the gas station. the boy watched as you marched up to the front counter. you noticed how he rubbed his left hand against the edge of the surface, almost as if he was relieving an itch. 

“hi again.” you breathed out, not believing you were doing this.

“hi…?” he said hesitantly, rocking on the heels of his feet lightly.  

“i know this is going to sound insane–” you eyed his name tag, “mark, but i think you're my soulmate.” 

he was silent. you were silent. the whole damn store was silent. maybe the world was silent. 

you released your breath when he didn't say anything after what seemed like an eternity. he just stood there, wide eyed, his mouth pursed in an “O” shape. 

“okay then, never trying that again.” you mumbled, taking a step back from the counter, turning on your heel to leave. maybe this whole soulmate thing was rigged and your tattoo was bullshit. 

“w-wait!” he called nervously. you looked at him again, waiting for him to say more. “i think you're right.” he laughed. 

“i'm right?” you repeated, like you weren't sure what he had said. but you heard him correctly. he lifted up his hand, displaying the music note tattoo in the middle of his palm, identical to yours. 

“can i see yours?” he asked quietly, his sparkling eyes even wider than before. “i mean, if it's–y'know.”

you nodded and pulled down the edge of your shirt ever so slightly, just enough to reveal your tattoo. 

“woah…” he muttered, his eyes darting from your tattoo to his, back to yours. he reached out as to place his palm on your chest, but you jolted back, letting your shirt go back into place. 

“sorry.” mark stuttered out, drawing back his arm. it was quiet again, both of you just looking at each other. how weird was it that you had found your soulmate so fast? and where did you go from there? 

for the first time in a long time, you found your heart speaking instead of your mind. 

“come with me, mark.” you didn't just say that.

mark laughed, looking down and shaking his head subtly. “i don't even know your name.”

“i’m y/n. now you do.” you blurted out, not being able to take your eyes off him. 

“how do i know you're not going to kill me?”

“i mean, you don't. but we’re soulmates, i think you should take my word for it when i say i won't murder you.” 

he hesitated again. “i'm off in,” he checked his watch. “ten minutes. but i have responsibilities.”

mark lee’s (you learned his full name on the drive to his apartment. he talked a lot) apartment was just like him from what you observed; somewhat tidy, somewhat all over the place. he had clothes on chairs in the kitchen, but there were no dishes in the sink. there was a half eaten apple on the counter, but he had instructed you to take your shoes off before you came in. you were surprised he was even going with you. 

“so, what are those responsibilities you were talking about?” you asked, looking around his place. 

“well, i have to pack a bag, make sure the tv and lights are off…” he trailed off as he walked down the hallway, presumably to his room. “oh and–” he stopped and crouched down, tapping his fingertips on the floor. “jellybean!” 

what the hell was he doing? you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay in the head, but then you saw it. a tiny ball of orange fluff running out of his room. 

“mark, what is that?”

he scooped the kitten into his arms. “this is jellybean.” he looked at you and smiled, his eyes sparkling once again. you merely blinked at him. 

“don't tell me you're allergic?” he whined, his face dropping. 

“i'm not allergic, but where will we keep it? where will it piss?” you questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i don't know, but– jelly is all i have,” he said quietly, petting the creature in his arms. “it's me and her, or neither of us.” 

“mark, get your feet off my dash.” you sighed, glancing over at the boy who was now in your passenger seat. 

“why?” he questioned, just to be defiant. 

“because it’s distracting.”

“more distracting than the cat trying to jump into your lap every two minutes?” he giggled, grabbing jellybean before she could prance over the middle console again. you merely nodded and smiled, keeping your eyes on the dark road. you were trying to find a spot to pull over and park for the night, without getting killed in your sleep. it was getting late, and you were getting drowsy.

finally, you found a clearing on the empty highway and pulled over, parking the van and looking over at mark. his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell gently. you couldn't deny that he was breathtaking while he slept. if he was going to sleep right there, keeping that pest of a cat away from you, you weren't going to fight it. 

it was dark enough that you could barely see anything in the back of the van. the only light provided was from the moon and the stars coming through your tinted windows. you felt around for your bag, quiet as to not wake mark. you picked out a sweater and shorts from your bag, and figuring it was dark enough, changed right there. 

and mark would've gotten away with watching you, if jellybean hadn’t meowed into the silence, making you jump. you quickly pulled the sweater over your head, before turning to face mark, whose face was red as a fire truck. 

“i-i wasn't looking, i swear!” he stuttered. he wasn't meaning to look in a sexual way, but the way the shadows cast by the moon fell over your bare shoulders and back entranced him to you. 

“don't do it again.” you huffed, pulling your hair back into a ponytail. it was awkwardly silent until mark glanced out the window and thought of something. 

“let's look at the stars.” he suggested, placing his cat in the back with you and opening the passenger seat door, stepping out into the brisk night air. you were too tired to protest it, so you opened the back doors of the van and stepped out, now right next to him. he was already craning his neck up towards the night sky. you thought he was crazy when he stepped onto the floor of the van and hoisted himself onto the roof. 

“what are you doing?” you questioned, looking up at the boy. 

“view’s better up here. come on up.” he smiled, reaching his hand out to help you up. you had nothing else to lose. 

“well, lying on the roof of my van with a stranger hasn't been the weirdest thing that has happened today.” you chuckled, turning your head to look at mark. 

“hey, i'm not a stranger,” he defended himself with a smile. “you know my name, you've been in my apartment, and you've pet my cat. i think we’re well acquainted by now.” 

“i think you're crazy.” you shook your head jokingly and looked back at the sky full of stars. 

“well i think you're crazy.” he fired back. 

“i am crazy, mark lee.” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. 

“i can't believe you're my soulmate.” he sighed contently, wriggling closer to you. 

“why? were you expecting someone else?” you questioned. 

“no, it's just– i've worked the night shift at that gas station for a year. no one interesting has ever come in there before while i was working. and then the first person who looks like she's got a good story comes along, and she's my soulmate.” he explained. 

“i look like i have a good story?” you glanced over at him again. he looked like he was deep in thought, silent again for a moment.

“what are you running away from? nobody gets up and leaves like that for no reason.” he turned his head so that his eyes met yours, sending a chill down your spine. 

“it's silly.” you shrugged it off, not sure if you could talk about yukhei without bursting into tears.

“it's not silly.” he reassured in a quiet voice.

“would you believe me if i said i was running away from a relationship?” 

“really? but…” 

“yeah, i know,” you sighed. “i know you're my soulmate and all but…he believed that i was his soulmate, but it must have been someone else he met that day. i guess just couldn't keep the secret anymore.” 

“you knew you weren't soulmates but you didn't tell him?” mark questioned, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. 

“don't get me wrong, i really loved him. i didn't just do it to play with his emotions, i’m not that much of a bitch.” you laughed, making mark smile at your word choice. “i mean, i don't know if romantic love can truly exist with someone who isn't your soulmate, but whatever i felt for him, it was real.” you looked away from the boy, not even noticing the tears in your eyes. but he did.

“oh shit…i'm sorry, y/n.” 

you sat up, still looking away from him. even though he was who you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, you didn't want him to see you cry. not when you’d only known him for a few hours. 

“hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly, moving closer to you, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your back. it felt like your body jolted with electricity at his touch. 

“yeah, i'm fine, i just–it's hard to get over him when we were dating for a year and i know i broke his heart and as soon as i leave him i find my soulmate and—” you stopped yourself, not wanting to break down in sobs.

“well, we don't have to be soulmates like that yet.” he offered. “we can be…best friends.”  

you couldn’t help but laugh at how pure he was. he brought his other hand up to your face, wiping the tears off your cheeks gently. 

“okay, okay, we can be best friends.” you agreed, looking into his eyes, your stomach plunging to your feet. he was so breathtaking. god, you’d only known him for four hours.

 waking up next to mark lee definitely startled you at first. the mattress in the back of your van was barely big enough for two people, but thankfully you both managed to keep your hands to yourselves throughout the night. 

you woke up before him, and quietly exited the van to get a breath of fresh air. you huddled down into your sweater, the chilly morning air making your teeth chatter. you thought it was funny how you still reached for something that wasn’t there, a dirty habit that you had quit months ago. 

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt something furry rub against your bare ankles. 

“jesus…” you muttered, glancing down at the cat that must’ve escaped the van when you did. you noticed how jellybean had slept peacefully in mark’s arms the entire night. now she sat at your feet and looked up at you, meowing for attention. 

“i’m not picking you up. i don’t like cats.” you said, like it would hurt her feelings. why were you even talking to a cat? you were sure you had lost your mind. jellybean pranced around your feet in circles, her meows sounding more like a baby crying. 

“okay, okay,” you gave in, scooping her into your arms just so she’d shut up. she immediately nuzzled into your chest, purring with delight. you felt yourself smile. “maybe you’re not so bad…”

 how mark lee had convinced you to go to the beach, you didn’t know, but there you were, lying on a towel on the sand, watching your soulmate try to build a sandcastle. 

“you’re such a child.” you joked, taking your sunglasses off to see him more clearly. his sandcastle wouldn’t stick together because there was no water. you didn’t know if he knew this or not.

“i am not!” he laughed. “you’re just jealous of my sandcastle.” as he said that, the sand crumbled in his hands again. “shit.”

“you need water for it to stick.” you mentioned. 

“oh. yeah. but i don’t have anything to transport the water in.” he said as he looked around for something. he finally eyed your water bottle, which you let him use. finally, he seemed content building his sandcastle. 

you put your sunglasses back on and lid on your back, trying to relax and absorb the sun. it lasted for around two minutes before the sun was blocked out by a shadow. you opened one eye, looking up at mark’s form hovering over you. 

“yes?”

“come swimming with me.”

“don’t want to.”

“please?”

“no.”

“okay…” he pouted and moved out of the way. 

it wasn’t even a minute later and mark tugged on your arm.

“pleaseee?” he whined, his hand latched onto yours. you sighed and sat up, hoping that if you got in the water with him, he’d leave you alone to rest. 

“the water is too cold.” you complained with a giggle, watching mark splash around delightfully. 

“i know, but you’re supposed to swim at the beach, not sleep.” he teased.

“i was not sleeping!” you protested, laughing at how silly your arguments were already. you would only get in the water up to your thighs, your skin already numb from the frigid water. you wondered how mark could submerge himself completely. oh yeah, he had mentioned that he was from canada, it was always cold there, right?

you dragged mark out of the water a few minutes later, not wanting either of you to die from hypothermia. as you sat on your towel again, you watched as mark’s teeth chattered, water dripping from his hair onto his face. you wanted to tell him i told you so, but you actually felt bad for him.

“hey, uh, i forgot my towel back in the van...i’m gonna run back and get it.” he said. you noticed the goosebumps covering his arms and the slight shiver in his body, and the van took a few minutes to walk to. 

“here, have mine.” you offered, standing up and shaking out your towel before handing it to him. 

“you sure?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” you smiled, pushing it into his chest. “take it, mark.”

he grasped it hesitantly, a small grin forming on his lips. “well, here, take my sweater so you don’t get cold.” it was his turn to push the blue garment into your hands. you didn't protest, feeling the chilly wind picking up. instead you pulled the sweater over your head, suddenly engulfed in mark’s scent. 

you didn't want to admit it, but you were growing a liking for mark lee.

you felt nervous as you drove down the small town road, your mind swarming with thoughts. you had known mark lee for a week and he wanted you to meet his friends. he had told you that his friends opinions of you mattered more than his parents, which made your stomach churn. would mark’s friends like you? yeah, sure, you were his soulmate, but what if he was easily influenced by his friends? but they wanted to meet you, too. you could only hope for the best. 

you parked the van on the street beside the lonely bar, taking a deep breath and pulling down the visor. you could feel mark’s excitement radiating off of him from the passenger seat. you brushed through your hair with your fingers and applied lip gloss in the tiny mirror. you could feel his eyes on you. 

“you look pretty, you know.” he spoke up. you were almost startled by his compliment. you weren’t used to receiving them. 

“thank you…” you glanced at him and back at yourself in the mirror. he could tell you were nervous.

“they’ll like you, don’t worry.” he said, grabbing your hand. you were sure that startled you more. he rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand comfortingly, smiling softly. “they’re really chill.”

“or are they weird like you?” you joked, focusing your attention on him. his eyes seemed to sparkle even more that night. 

“yeah, they are.” his smile only grew.

you didn’t intend on drinking but once mark’s friend johnny announced that he would be the designated driver back to his place (where you and mark were going to crash for the night), you decided a few drinks wouldn’t hurt. you learned that mark was a total lightweight. after a few beers he was drunk, and then you learned another thing about him. he was clingy when he was drunk. mark lee was clingy and giggly and touchy. 

so when he put his arm around you and laid his head on your shoulder for the fifth time that night, his friends started to question your relationship. he had explained to them that you were just friends. well, as friends as soulmates could get. they were all so happy for mark, and you were happy he had a group of people who could really understand him. 

mark lee was sneaky. every time he clung to you in his drunken state, he added something else to make your heart race. it started off as just his arm around your shoulder or your waist, then he would lean his head on your shoulder, then he got really bold and intertwined his fingers with yours under the table. maybe it was your drunken state, but you felt flustered and your heart jumped to your throat. you hoped the other boys wouldn’t notice just how red you were. 

johnny proposed that you called it a night when the clock struck midnight and mark was asleep, his body limp against your side. you agreed and attempted to wake the boy. 

“mark, we’re leaving.” you whispered, poking his cheek. he hushed you and didn’t move. 

“come on, marky.” you giggled, trying to push him off you. he finally sat straight, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. 

you got your bags (and jellybean) from the van and sat in the back of johnny’s car, where mark had managed to sober up enough to not fall asleep on the ride to johnny’s place. you laughed and sang along drunkenly to the radio the entire ride, johnny glancing at you through his mirror, rolling his eyes jokingly. you had never felt more alive than you did in that moment. 

mark collapsed on the bed in johnny’s guest bedroom, his tiredness (and drunkenness) taking over. you dropped your bags on the floor and set jellybean down before making your way over to him. 

“at least put on pyjamas, silly.” you said, grabbing his arm and attempting to make him sit up. he merely muttered nonsense to you, his eyes remaining closed. 

“mark…” you dragged out his name and laughed, your mind still cloudy. you let your grip on his arm go loose and before you knew it, he pulled you down on top of him, making you laugh out loud. 

“come on, seriously?” 

“why are you so pretty, y/n?” he questioned, his eyes now open and peering at you. 

“why are you so cheesy?” you fired back, ignoring your heart about to beat out of your chest. he didn’t answer, instead he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger on the side of your face. a few seconds felt like a million years with him. you moved one hand up his chest and booped his nose before standing up like nothing happened. 

“hey!”

“change, smelly.” you joked, grabbing a pair of his pyjama pants and a clean t shirt and throwing it at him. 

“but i don’t want to go to the bathroom to change. i’m tired.” he whined. 

“you don’t have to. i won’t look. i have to change, too.” you replied, lifting your shirt over your head. you knew mark’s eyes were on you, but you didn’t mind it. he was going to see it sooner or later, right? 

“o-okay…” he muttered. you changed quicker than him, because of his sleepy, slow movements, and you were quick to jump into bed and huddle down into the blankets. 

you watched mark hop into his plaid flannel pyjama pants and sit back down on the edge of the bed. 

“do you mind if i sleep shirtless?” he chuckled, balling up his dirty t shirt and throwing it so it landed on his bag. 

“i don’t mind.” you said, watching as he lid down beside you. maybe it was your hazy state of mind, but you thought he was so handsome in the dim light. you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at his lips. you wondered if mark lee had ever kissed a girl. you wondered if mark lee ever thought about kissing you, like you thought about kissing him. 

“kiss me, mark.” you whispered as he filled the gap between your bodies. it felt like your whole being was on fire as mark’s lips landed on yours. maybe it was because of him being your soulmate, but kissing him felt more right than anything else. 

that night you fell asleep in mark’s arms, your mind dancing with visions of him.

mark always slept later than you, so it was no surprise that he was just waking up as you came into the room after your shower the next morning. 

“morning.” he murmured, his voice raspy from just waking up. 

“good morning.” you smiled, the memories of the night before being stuck in your mind since your eyes had opened earlier. you wondered if he remembered the kiss you had shared in your drunken state. you decided you wouldn’t mention it. 

“hey, um, quick question…” he spoke up, running a hand through his messy, jet black hair. 

“yeah?” you glanced over at him. 

“about last night…” you felt yourself blush, “did we, um–y’know?” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. you hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“uh, yeah. we did.” 

his silence reminded you of the night you met him, how awkwardly silent it was when you told him you were soulmates. 

“did we at least, how do i word this…use protection…?” 

your eyes widened. “no, we didn't have sex!” you laughed. 

“o-oh! good. yeah, good.” he chuckled, embarrassment staining his cheeks.

“we just kissed, that’s all. just once.”

“okay, i can live with that.” he let out a short laugh, turning his attention to the sudden knock that came at the door. johnny poked his head in the doorway, a smirk on his face. 

“good morning lovebirds.” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “how did you sleep? or was there any sleeping going on?” 

“go away, johnny!” mark whined, like a child would to his older brother. you just laughed at their banter. 

“okay, my bad. are you joining me for breakfast?” he asked, looking from mark to you. 

“yeah, i'll help, actually.��� you smiled, glancing at mark. “you, get a shower first.”

 mark insisted on hitting the road again, so within a few hours, you were taking a specific route to the mountains. you were feeling good, you had heard johnny mutter “she’s a keeper” after you helped him make breakfast and clean up. 

mark had offered to drive, and apparently he knew of a camping spot where you would be able to see the mountains, where he used to go with his family. you sat in the passenger seat and held jellybean in your lap, petting the creature lovingly. 

“and to think you didn’t like cats just a week ago.” mark said, smiling at the way you and jellybean had grown a liking for each other. the most important girls in his life, he thought. 

“to think it’s only been a week,” you looked at him. “it feels like it’s been an eternity with your annoying ass.” 

“hey!” he exclaimed, “you’re lucky i’m putting up with you.” 

“we both know that if you didn’t come with me, you’d probably work at that gas station and be single forever.” you said. 

“okay, okay, kind of hurtful, but you’re right.” he shook his head with a grin plastered on his face. “i’m happy we found each other.” 

you felt your heart swell at his words. 

when you finally got to your rented camping spot, you sat on the edge of the van with the back door open, admiring the view out over the mountains. it was breaktaking, a once in a lifetime view. 

while you were admiring nature’s beauty, mark was having a very difficult time starting a fire. you watched as he crouched next to the makeshift fire pit that was left by the last campers, trying his hardest to start it with just a lighter and a few pieces of wood. 

“need some help?” you called out. looking over your shoulder at him.

“no, i got it!” 

you hopped down from the van and made your way over, observing his attempts. “you need paper. and some dry wood.”

“well i don’t have paper or dry wood.” he muttered with a sigh in a defensive tone. you could tell he wanted to impress you with his skills, and was frustrated that he couldn’t get it. you opened the drivers side door of the van and leaned over to the glove box, pulling out a handful of old newspapers. paper was always good to have on hand, and for this reason. you walked back over to the boy and passed them to him over his shoulder. he mumbled a thank you and went back to trying to light a fire. 

you crouched down and put your arms around his slumped shoulders, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “you’re cute, you know?” 

mark gulped and you noticed how he got red, but kept his eyes focused on what he was doing. he wouldn’t admit it this early, but mark lee was starting to catch feelings for you. and he knew he was in too deep already. 

that night after you ate leftover pizza from lunch and talked around the fire, you settled in the van for the night. you kept the back door open, watching how the sky painted itself numerous shades of oranges and yellows as the sun set. mark hummed a soft tune and you were reminded of your matching soulmate tattoos. a music note because you were both music lovers. well, you were, you weren’t sure if mark was. 

“hey,” you spoke into the comfortable silence, turning your head to look at him lying next to you. “do you play any instruments?” 

“i play the guitar.” he replied in an instant. 

“really?” you smiled, your eyes widening. “me too.” 

“i guess god made us soulmates for that reason.” he laughed, putting down his phone to focus his attention on you. 

“god?” you raised an eyebrow. you were never really a believer of anything like that. 

“yeah. i don’t know, i believe in god and that he made everyone for a certain reason…” he chuckled, almost like he was embarrassed in his beliefs. “makes life feel important i guess…”

“don’t be embarrassed. i respect it.” you assured. “maybe it’s just because i’m a nihilist and i grew up thinking like it, but i think everything is meaningless.” 

“you’re kidding. you don’t think everything and everyone has a purpose?”

“not really. why would it be important if we’re all just going to die anyway?”

he fell silent. had you scared him or made him think you were a total weirdo? 

“then i have a new goal.” he smiled smugly. “to make you believe that life is meaningful.”

you laughed. “good luck, marky.” you shook your head and sat up, remembering what sparked the conversation. you quickly hopped out of the van and grabbed the case that was underneath the palette your mattress was set on. you sat next to him again, placing the case in his hands. 

“play for me.”

“oh.” he opened the clasps and gently took out the old acoustic, strumming the strings a few times. “i don’t know…what should i play?”

“think of me and play something based on your thoughts.” you challenged, leaning forward, resting your head on your fist, watching him intently. 

“oh gosh,” he laughed, plucking a soft tune. “do you know the song slow it down?”

you didn’t, but you were curious to see what made him think of you. 

he started singing, and even though he was a little rusty at first, his voice was beautiful. it was ragged and raspy, all while being delicate. to you, his voice sounded like hope. hope for a new beginning. hope for a better future. hope for all your days to be spent with him.

was this what it felt like to fall in love the right way?

you didn't even know what you were yelling for anymore. the conversation had started in a civil way, talking about what the future held for you and mark. if you were being honest, you were terrified. you didn't know what you were doing or where you were going, and money was becoming an issue. money was at the base of your fight with mark.

“you're not even listening to me!” you huffed, your eyes trying to stay focused on the dark road ahead, your windshield wipers slapping furiously against the harsh rain. 

“it's hard to listen to you when everything you're saying is bullshit!” mark fired back, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“what do you mean?” you whipped your head over, glaring through him.

“we can't just keep driving around in your van, like the world doesn't exist! we need money, we need jobs and a place to live! you have your fucking head in the clouds, y/n!” he raised his voice. you knew you needed to pull over soon, as you wouldn't be able to see the road through your rage. 

“you’re an asshole.” you mumbled. 

“what did you say?”

“i said you’re a fucking asshole!” you shook your head and pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, coming to an abrupt stop. 

“well you're a bitch.” mark clenched his jaw and quickly got out, slamming the door so hard that the van shook. 

you were never one to apologize first, and all you could see was red. you were sure you hated him in that moment. maybe you should've just stayed with yukhei and kept living a lie.

when he didn't get back in the van, you opened your door and got out, looking at him with the vehicle between you. 

“what?” he spit, his eyes like daggers. 

“are you going to apologize?”

“for what? i didn't do anything wrong, y/n.” he leaned an arm on the roof and avoided your gaze. 

“for starting this fucking argument?!”

“god must've made a mistake when he made us soulmates. i don't think i could ever get along with you well enough to actually love you.” 

unlovable. it wasn't the first time that term had been used to describe you. you tried to keep up your facade of being angry and careless, but his comment had stabbed you right in the heart. 

“maybe i should just leave you here, huh?” you challenged, hoping he'd come to his senses.

“fine!” he shrugged, stepping away from the van. he swung back the side door and grabbed his bag and jellybean, before slamming it and proceeding to walk away. 

he was actually leaving. well, you could too.

you tried not to glance back at him in your mirror as you drove out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. your anger was all that you could think about, you weren't being rational. 

you drove and drove, tears streaming down your face, tears you didn't even realize had collected in your eyes. sometimes, mark felt like a boy you could love. then, other times, he felt like a total fucking stranger. it felt like the night you left yukhei all over again. even though it was only a little over two weeks before, it felt like an eternity with mark.

mark. what was he doing right now? was he already calling someone to pick him up? was he cursing your name and wishing you crashed? was he regretting what he said? because you were. 

you finally had to pull over on the side of the highway, leaning your arms and head on the steering wheel, breaking down in sobs. mark was your soulmate, the only person in the world you were meant to be with, and you had ruined it. your stupid pride had ruined it. was it too late to go back? 

you drove and drove, back to the gas station. you weren't letting him go that easily. your shoulders shuddered with another sob when you saw him leaned against the brick wall outside, soaked with rain, trying to keep jellybean warm in his jacket. your heart ached. you were the shittiest person alive, you were sure. 

mark watched with wide eyes as your van arrived in front of him. you got out quickly, before going right up to him. he was confused. he thought he had screwed everything up and that you were gone forever. 

it took all your courage and pride to walk up to him, but once you were there, your hands shaking, you felt like breaking down all over again. you hugged him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your warm tears heating up his skin. 

“i’m sorry.” you mumbled, your voice cracking with emotion. mark wrapped his arms around you, and you could tell by his sniffles that he had been crying too.

“me too.” he whispered, tightening his grip on you, like you'd disappear soon. 

“i like you so much, mark, and i don't want to ruin this.” you sighed, your voice weak and muffled.

“i shouldn't have said anything that i said. i was really afraid for a moment.” 

you stayed silent, not wanting to cry even more. mark swayed you gently in his arms, so thankful you came back for him. he couldn't lose you. not now, not after everything. 

 when you pulled your face away from him, you looked away subconsciously, not wanting him to see you in such an unruly state. but he put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. you became insecure, wondering what you looked like in the eyes of your soulmate. you were brought back to his eyes, the first feature of his that you fell in love with. 

he kissed you with reckless abandon, his hands cupping each side of your face, his warmth spreading through your whole body. you couldn't get enough of him. 

“i love you.” he muttered in between kisses. the whole world went silent. 

“i love you too.” there went your heart again, speaking for you. from the beginning, you knew it would be impossible to be just friends with mark lee. you couldn't help but crack a smile when your eyes fluttered open and met his. 

“you do?” he grinned.

“of course i do.” you said, your voice almost disappearing with the rain. 

“i love you.” he repeated, kissing you again. “i love you, i love you, i love you.” 

“say it too much and it loses meaning.” you teased, noticing the rain dripping onto his forehead. 

“you believe that?” he chuckled.

“i believe–” 

“stop loitering on my property, you damn kids!” a voice called out from the doorway. 

“oh shit.” you giggled, grabbing mark’s arm and running towards the van. when you came to a stop, he caged your body between his and the side of the van, dipping down to kiss you again. 

“i love you.” 

“i love you, mark lee.”

you couldn't sleep. you were grateful to be sleeping on a couch for the night instead of in the van, but as you stared at the ceiling of mark’s bestfriends basement, sleep just wouldn't hit you. mark was sleeping on the couch in the living room upstairs, as donghyuck still lived with his parents. you didn't mind the couch though, it was quite comfy. 

you liked donghyuck, and you were pretty sure he liked you too. he seemed like a sarcastic asshole at first, but once him and mark got to talking, you saw how kind and cute he could be. the way mark lit up like a christmas tree when he saw donghyuck proved how close they were as friends. he said they had been bestfriend’s since they were twelve, and it showed in the way they bickered with each other in a heartfelt way. 

you couldn't remember when you entered dreamland, but you woke up in the middle of the night to your arm falling off the couch and your fingers messily tangled with someone else’s. you thought your tired eyes were playing tricks on you when you peered over the edge and saw mark lying on the floor next to the couch, his eyes closed, his chest moving up and down slowly, and his fingers holding onto yours. 

you didn't even think to question why he was there at first, as you were too drawn into the way he looked so peaceful while sleeping. his eyelashes lightly brushed against his skin while his eyes were closed, and his lips were parted ever so slightly. his skin seemed to glow even in the dark. 

“mark, what are you doing?” you questioned in a quiet voice, once it hit you that he was sleeping on the floor, after all. his eyes fluttered open, him being the ever so light sleeper. he smiled softly almost immediately. 

“just couldn't sleep…i guess i'm used to you being next to me now.” he chuckled sleepily, his voice raspy and rough. he glanced at your hands and back up at you. “i needed to be next to you.” 

you were thankful it was dark, because you felt yourself blush with his words. knowing you both couldn't fit on the couch, you came up with a quick plan. 

“here,” you said, getting off the couch and grabbing a few cushions.

“what are you doing?” mark questioned, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“shhh,” you hushed him, laying down the couch cushions on the floor and motioning for him to move onto them. he complied, and you took a blanket donghyuck had supplied you with, and draped it over his body. then, you took the other one and lay down next to him on the cushions, covering yourself as well with the warm blanket. 

“there.” you sighed with an air of contentedness as you faced him. it was a tight squeeze, and not the most comfortable of arrangements, but it was perfect in the moment. 

“this is perfect.” mark uttered, his thoughts matching yours. “well, not perfect, but you get what i mean.” 

you inched closer to him until mark put his arm around you and closed the gap between your bodies. 

“okay, let’s get some sleep now.” he murmured, closing his eyes. “i love you.” ever since the night he first confessed it, mark couldn't stop telling you that he loved you. the first night he told you, you had said it back, but you weren't sure if you meant it. you were full of emotions from your fight and it just felt like the right thing to say to him, maybe to comfort him. 

but as you lay in the dark on the small, uncomfortable, makeshift bed, with his protective arms around you and his heartbeat beating in your ears, you were sure you loved him. and you were sure that love was the only thing you ever wanted to feel.

the dim lights in the bar made mark look even more handsome, a gentle shadow cascading down his nose and smile as he sat across from you. 

“ten bucks says you can’t get someone to buy you a drink.” he smirked, challenging you.

“alright. ten bucks is ten bucks.” you laughed, leaning forward.

“seriously?”

“you know what you can get with ten bucks? lots of things, mark.” you were about to get out of your seat, taking him up on his offer. he grabbed your hand and urged you to stay.

“okay, okay. the thing is, i know you can get any of these guys to buy you a drink,” he chuckled, a hint of jealousy in his voice. he clasped his hand over yours on the table and smiled at you. “i’d rather buy my girl a drink than any of these pervs.”

you felt your cheeks heat up at what he had called you. you opened your mouth to hush him jokingly, but then your eyes caught something in the distance. not something, someone. what was he doing there? you tried your best to keep your head down without mark noticing that you were making yourself smaller, but then his eyes locked with yours. you felt your stomach plummet to the soles of your feet. and then he was walking over. you couldn’t just up and flee, not with him that close and not without telling mark. please, pass by the table, you prayed. but you weren’t so lucky. 

“hey, how are you?” he smiled, a hint of passive aggressiveness in his voice as he set his hands on the table and leaned down. his eyes wandered to mark, who’s eyes were stuck on you with a look that said ‘who is this?’ 

you cleared your throat, not realizing how dry your mouth had become, before gathering sudden courage to speak to him. “i’m- i’m great, how’re you?” 

“good, good…” he muttered, glancing at mark again before looking back at you. 

“oh! mark, this is yukhei,” you smiled forcibly, hoping he remembered the name. his eyebrows raised in realization. “yukhei, this is mark...my soulmate.” you inhaled sharply. you noticed mark’s grip tighten on your hand. he was definitely getting protective, and you didn’t know how this scene would play out.

“nice to meet you, man.” mark nodded, offering his other hand to yukhei. he shook it hesitantly, but didn’t say anything back. you could read him like a book too, and you knew by the look in his eyes that he was jealous. please stay civil, you thought.

“i’m glad you met your real soulmate. must feel nice, right?” he retorted, casting his gaze down at you. 

“what are you even doing here?” you sighed, trying to keep the peace. 

“just doing the same as you are. trying to find my soulmate, but it’s kind of hard considering i’ve already met her and now she could be anywhere–”

“don’t do this here, yuk.” you warned, your voice low and your cheeks now darkening in embarrassment. 

“no, i think he deserves to know what you did to me. how you led me on and lied to me for a whole year. was it all some sort of game to you?” he spit out.

“you’re causing a scene.” you whispered, looking around at the glances and glares you were getting because of yukhei’s temper. you could tell that mark wanted to speak up and say something, but you weren’t letting that happen. that would be like adding fuel to the fire. 

“you broke my heart, y/n!” he declared. with that, mark stood up and your eyes widened. 

“come on, we’re going.” he muttered, his gentle eyes meeting yours. even in the situation you were in, you found comfort in his eyes. you got up, trying to ignore yukhei. mark was quick to ease your jacket over your shoulders and put his hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the bar, glaring daggers at yukhei the whole time. 

once you were in the passenger seat of the van, you felt like breaking down all over again. you felt terrible for what you did to yukhei. but you loved him. you really, truly loved him. but that was the past. 

“hey,” mark spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. you snapped out of your thoughts and looked over, the moonlight casting shadows on his face. “you okay?”

“i’m okay.” you sighed, looking down again. your eyes fixating on his thumb rubbing tiny patterns into your jeans in an attempt to comfort you. 

“y/n. talk to me, please.” 

“i’m not a bad person, mark.” you said in a timid voice.

“i know you’re not.”

“but i feel bad.” you admitted. “i feel like the shittiest person alive. i broke his heart. i didn’t deserve him.” 

you were both silent for a moment as you collected your thoughts. 

“and i definitely don’t deserve you.” you uttered out, leaning your head back on the seat and staring at the ceiling of the van. 

“don’t say that.” mark said. “you have been so amazing to me. i didn’t even know this feeling existed,” he stopped to chuckle, “we found each other when we needed each other the most, y/n. we deserve each other.”

 you cast your eyes on him once again, a feeling of contentment settling over your heart. now that you thought about it, what you felt for your past lover was nothing compared to what you felt for mark. soulmate love was a different kind of love. it was an everything and anything kind of love, a sacrifice kind of love, a commitment kind of love. you could see it in the way mark always offered you the last of his french fries, the way he talked to you in a calm voice when you wanted to curl up and die, the way he offered to drive when he knew you were tired, the way he always gave you more of the blankets, the way he left his whole life for you and dove into your relationship with no cares in the world. you knew he was the only one who would ever love you like that. and you were damned if you ever let him go. 

an hour later as mark drove down the highway humming a soft tune, he was thinking all the same things. he smiled when he glanced over at you asleep against his arm, your hands wrapped around his. he was sad that he could only admire your peaceful face for seconds at a time before turning his attention back to the road, but his thoughts stayed on you. he loved you more than he had ever loved anything else before, he was sure of it. and he’d be damned if he ever let you go.

you rolled up your map and shoved it in the glove box before sitting back down on the mattress. you were more relaxed now that you and mark had done a little bit of planning for what lay ahead. you had picked a quiet, cozy town to settle down in, and mark had already looked into an apartment. it was a small, one-bedroom apartment, but it was away from any noise and had mostly elderly neighbours. you both were looking at jobs to get you back on your feet and to earn a little more money than your combined savings, which were running out. you were ecstatic to start your new life with mark, and you could tell he felt the same.

“wanna hit the hay?” mark questioned, closing the back door and putting jellybean on the bed.

“yeah, i’m a bit tired.” you nodded, pulling his sweater over your head to provide a little warmth, although you knew he would be soon enough. you smoothed down your messy hair and took jellybean into your arms. you hated mark’s cat at first, but you got used to her in no time. 

“you’re so pretty, y/n.” mark uttered, his eyes stuck on you, his lips slightly apart. you understood his bluntness when he was drunk, but it was weird for him to be this straightforward. 

“you’re prettier.” you smiled, continuing to pet the ball of fur in your arms that was meowing at you. mark just laughed and moved next to you, his gaze focused like a child. he lay down and brought his hand up to your shoulder, nudging you to join him. 

once you were comfortably situated in bed, you found it hard to stay awake. you watched as mark cooed at jellybean, and felt your eyelids get heavy. you let your eyes flutter closed, but opened them suddenly when mark’s hand touched your cheek. 

“hmm?” you hummed, raising your eyebrows and soaking in his warmth. 

“stay awake for a little while longer. i wanna talk.” he said softly, like you were a delicate thing in front of him. 

“about what?” you questioned, nestling closer to him. 

“that night that we fought, what did you feel?”

“huh?”

“what went through your head? what were your emotions?” he pressed.

“...i don’t know. a lot, i guess? i was angry at you. but i was mostly just sad.”

“why?”

“are you just being cocky, mark lee?” you chuckled.

“no, just–why were you sad?”

you sighed. “because you mean a lot to me and i didn’t want to lose you?”

he smiled, like he was satisfied with your answer. “i mean something to you?”

you shoved his shoulder in a playful manner while rolling your eyes. “of course you do, you know this.”

“i know, i know, but the word. mean, meaning. meaningful. at least one thing in your life means something to you.”

“okay?” you laughed, leaning on your hand and shaking your head. 

“and–and when we first met, you never wore your seatbelt.” he stated like it was a fact.

“and…?”

“and now you always wear it.”

“because you nagged me so much to wear it.” you chuckled, remembering how he used to say ‘seatbelt!’ before allowing you to drive.

“that just shows that you don’t want to die if we get into an accident. you care more about your life and safety now.” 

“that shows nothing.”

“and that one night when we were tipsy in the back of johnny’s car and singing at the top of our lungs, you looked so happy.”

“because i was.” you said, your insides warming up while remembering how alive you felt in that moment.

“you know what all of this means, y/n?”

“what does it mean, mark?” you replied, going along with it. 

“it means you’re starting to believe in meaning. you’re starting to believe that life is meaningful.” he smiled, running his hand through your hair gently. 

despite how much you’d argue against it, he was right. mark had opened your eyes to how precious life was.

“hey, can i try something?” mark spoke into the darkness a few nights later. you were still awake, worries filling your head as usual, but you thought mark had fallen asleep. you could tell there was a lot on his mind that night, too. 

you looked at him and raised your eyebrows. “what is it?” 

“um, you need to take off your shirt–or, uh–” he was a mess when he was embarrassed, “i just need to see your tattoo.” 

“oh,” you replied to his odd request. you hadn't given your matching tattoos much thought, also they were what made you soulmates in the first place. “sure.” 

you sat up a bit straighter and leaned against your pillow before pulling your sweater over your head, leaving you in only a thin tank top. you didn't feel insecure around mark. you glanced down at the eighth note magically inked into your skin. 

you watched mark look at his tattoo in his left palm and then at yours again. ever so gently, like you were glass that would break under his touch, he pressed his palm to your chest. you remembered that he tried to do it the night you met, but you had retracted from his touch. 

your body felt like it was full of electricity, his fingertips grazing the skin that had been barely touched by anyone else, the warmth of his palm seeping into you. his sparkling doe eyes met yours, and your stomach leapt with a feeling you couldn't describe. 

“i wanted to do that since i met you. i don't know, guess it was just a temptation.” he shrugged, pulling his hand back to his body, his eyes staying glued to yours. slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you, placing a soft kiss to his lips. then another, and another. until all you could feel was the shape of mark’s lips on yours. until that's all you ever wanted to feel. and then his lips on your cheek and jaw and neck and collarbone and chest. everywhere all at once. your body and mind on fire. when you closed your eyes, all you could see was mark. all you could feel was mark. you were his, and he was yours.

you watched as the sun lit up the sky a million hues of pink and orange in the morning. your heart soared with excitement as today was the day you'd move into your new apartment with mark. you had gotten up at the crack of dawn to get on the road, and the sunrise was a major bonus. you were unfamiliar with your surroundings, especially the road, but your gps had your back surely. 

mark turned the radio to a station playing rock music, the upbeat tune matching his mood. when he was sure you weren't looking, he felt around in his pocket. the tiny, felt box was still there. phew. he had snuck into a jewelry store when you were shopping a few days before, and bought the ring. he was sure of this. he didn't know when he would propose, but he knew he wanted to. the sooner you were his forever, the better. 

it was a silent drive, both of you thinking about your journey together and now, your future together. your mind couldn't help but wander while you were driving. mark meant so much to you. a mere month and a half before, mark had just been the boy at the gas station who seemed to understand your broken heart. 

now, he had made you believe in what you hadn't believed in in a very long time. life. happiness. love. meaning. mark had brought the most meaning into your shitty life. he was your happy pill. your sunshine. the love of your life. you glanced over at him, taking in everything about him. you were so happy to finally be at peace with yourself, with the help of mark. you wanted to thank him for being so good to you, for making everything shine with meaning. 

maybe you should've studied the maps more, kept your eyes on the road. because you didn't see the transport truck going over the speed limit that had skipped a stop sign. you didn't even feel it. you didn't feel anything.

[charliejrogers]

Miracle on 34th Street (1947) - Review & Analysis

What a weird, wonderful movie. Miracle on 34th Street is quite possibly the oddest Christmas movie I’ve ever seen. In part this is due to the fact that some stuff just doesn’t age well. How many old, strange men are you willing to let your seven-year-old daughter hang out alone with, Ms. Doris Walker?! But also it’s weird because because despite its typical Christmas-movie themes of faith/belief, true love, family, etc… it’s a wholly unique film that doubles as a legal drama!

This was my first viewing of the perennial classic, a film which started as a story by Valentine Davies and was adapted for the screen and then subsequently directed by George Seaton. Though baptized a Roman Catholic, Seaton himself grew up in a Jewish neighborhood of Detroit. He even had a bar mitzvah. I wonder how much of Seaton’s upbringing affected the final product we see. The central theme of holding faith in something that doesn’t make sense to those around you probably resonated strongly for the director who as a kid who became interested in a religion that was foreign to both of his Swedish immigrant parents.

From a direction standpoint, it’s fairly by the books and of its time, with a few notable exceptions, one being the opening credits sequence which shows a lone man walking slowly about the NYC streets from behind. He’s dressed in all black and we have no idea who he could be. He could literally be anyone in the world. Then all of a sudden, like magic, his face is revealed: the man we’re following is Santa Claus! Or, at least it looks a whole lot like him. What is Santa Claus doing in New York? Is this even Santa Claus?

These are questions that end up being central to the movie and just straight up never get answered. I loved that writing choice. The writing is the first of the film’s three big stars. This film won the Oscar for both best story and best adapted screenplay and it deserves every ounce of those awards. The story is so sublimely clever. Put shortly, the movie is about a man who claims to be Santa Claus and due to his uncanny resemblance to the jolly holiday figure, his natural aptitude for talking to children, and his almost savant-like knowledge of toy stores in Manhattan, he gets hired to be the mall Santa for Macy’s flagship Manhattan store. However, not everyone is as convinced that he is the real Kris Kringle. Certainly the Macy’s company psychologist does not. An uptight and unpleasant man, he (like others) thinks Kringle is utterly delusional but (unlike others) he also thinks these delusions presage future violence whenever inevitably others may challenge Kringle on this delusion. The psychologist thus schemes to get Mr. Kringle committed to *cue thunderclaps* Bellevue!

What ensues is a legal battle. I can’t imagine any other Christmas movie whose climax ends in a courtroom but it’s an incredibly satisfying thing to watch. We have the idealistic lawyer, Mr. Fred Gailey, who believes that Kringle, while clearly delusional, poses no actual threat to the community and actually does the community a great service in spreading kindness. Nevertheless, has to prove that Mr. Kringle is legally THE Mr. Kringle lest Kringle spend the rest of his life in the looney bin. Note… I have a very healthy and “modern” view of mental health, and would never use the term “looney bin” to describe today’s mental health hospital… but I use the term here because the images we get in the film of Bellevue’s inpatient psych ward are of sedated men in all-white clothing… in other words the movie certainly thinks of being in a psych ward as a looney bin, which adds a bit of dramatic tension to the story.

There’s certainly some not-so-subtle condemnation of psychology going on this movie (at least of the kind practiced by the Macy’s psychologist, Mr. Sawyer (a snivelling Porter Hall)). This was coming at a time when increasingly science was taking the place of religion, so it makes sense that psychology would be an enemy in a movie about faith and clinging to things that don’t make sense. The trial over the existence of Santa Claus almost serves as an inverse Scopes Monkey trial; Kringle even ironically compares his lawyer to Clarence Darrow, the lawyer on behalf of science.

What this movie nails so absolutely perfectly is that honestly… I don’t know if Kringle really isn’t Santa Claus. I’m not claiming that Santa exists in the real world, but in the world of this film, it’s really not obvious whether the film leans one way or another. That’s an ambiguity that tends to make art shine when it’s present. We see through Gailey’ legal maneuvering that the legal defense for Santa Claus’ existence is tenuous at best. At one point he calls the prosecutor’s child to the witness stand to argue that Santa Claus must be real since that is what his Dad (the prosecutor) has always told him. Therefore it seems like the film’s psychological explanations are probably the most likely. Yet at the same time… when a little Dutch girl comes to see Santa at Macy’s because she can “just tell” he’s the real Santa… why else would Kringle know Dutch songs about Santa off the top of his head? Why does an old man who lives in an old folk’s home on Long Island know so much about Manhattan’s toy stores?

And then there’s the more practical questions about Santa lore. Why is Santa in New York? He says he was born in the North Pole… so why did he leave? If he’s real, then why does he need to direct parents on where to buy the best toys? Is it merely that the world has outgrown him?

There’s also a whole economic piece of the script that I won’t even fully touch on. But basically Kringle in attempt to do right by parents, doesn’t merely recommend toys from the Macy’s toy department, but lets them know about better deals on toys that are located in stores elsewhere in Manhattan, including those that are rivals of Macy’s! This policy is such a hit with customers, it ushers in a revolution in department store policy, with department stores across the nation vying to extend more goodwill to customers. As I said, there’s something in there about the power of the free market and how capitalism doesn’t have to be evil... but I’ll leave it there and return to the central questions of the film. Like... does Santa Claus exist?

I don’t know! But the film raises really interesting questions and just leaves them there for us to sit with. Everything that the film tells us points us to the common sense conclusion that this man is NOT the genuine Jolly fellow… yet we want to believe there’s something more and that’s what makes this film so special. We literally as the audience go through the same mental charades as the characters in the film.

Thus far, I’ve attributed this brilliance to the plot, but there’s another absolutely vital element: the performance by Edmund Gwenn as Kris Kringle. This guy deserves every ounce of his Oscar for his performance. There’s not a second that he’s on screen that he doesn’t ooze charisma and charm. This whole movie would fall apart were it not for him, good plotting be damned, since we need to believe, even for mere fits and flitters, that this man is Santa Claus.

Never is he more convincing than when he interacts with children. There’s the absolutely magical scene with the little Dutch girl I mentioned above, but it’s when Kringle chats with little Susan Walker (played to heart-melting perfection by nine-year-old actor Natalie Wood whose got a stink face that never ceased to make me chuckle) that this movie achieves greatness. Though the trial scenes put the theme of faith vs. psychology at the forefront, the real heart of this movie is the conflict of faith vs. practicality. Little Susan is raised by her mother (and her Black nanny/house-caretaker who gets depressingly little credit… or screentime), and her mother Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara) is a thoroughly practical women. She’s a high-up exec at Macy’s, and seemingly one of the only women to be in such a position. As such, she’s a unique character for her time. Rigidly pragmatic, she eschews any and all attempts at fun and imagination for her daughter (as well as for herself). We get the sense that a different film, a different story, might dive deep into Walker’s struggles as a single mother in the 1940’s trying to be taken seriously in the business world. In a sense, she’s a forerunner to Faye Dunaway’s character in Network. She was clearly hurt by romance in the past (she and her husband divorced, which I imagine was rather scandalous at the time), and this fear of getting hurt by romance is what compels her to teach her daughter to avoid the stuff completely.

Clearly, there’s some cool gendered stuff going on here. Imagination, romance, faith: these are all things that are stereotypically more female-coded, while business, pragmatism are more male-coded. You inherit your father’s name but your mother’s religion as the old tradition went. And in our society at least, the latter (pragmatism/business) is supposed to make you successful and get you places… the former (faith/romance) does not. Yet in this movie, we have idealism and romance of our male lawyer Fred Gailey (John Payne) and the pragmatism of our female businesswoman Doris Walker. It’s a fun play on typical gender norms, but more interesting is to see how this duality plays out in the development of little Susan under the dual influences of her mother and the combination of Misters Gailey & Kringle.

Natalie Wood goes down in the pantheon of all-time great child actors, up there with the kid from Kramer vs. Kramer. She’s precocious but not in a way that’s off-putting. The way she evaluates the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade in such a matter-of-fact way is hilarious, and as I mentioned the stink eye she gives Kringle when he tries to tell her that he’s Santa is nothing short of perfect. Over the course of the film, we see her more harsh nature melt away and she becomes a kid. It’s a beautiful reminder of that childhood only comes once in a lifetime. If this movie shows us nothing, it’s how hard it is to maintain a sense of levity once one becomes an adult. We have to start worrying about what our bosses might think, what the press/public might think, what voters(!) might think. Never again will it be fully OK to have your heads in the clouds and believe in nonsense, so why take that away from children.

As much as this is a perfect film, I could have done without the romance plot. Mostly because it seems unnecessary. Doris seems to change in her attitudes towards Kringle and towards raising her daughter that constitute enough character growth thata having her all of a sudden fall head over heels for Gailey just seems forced. For that matter… Gailey’s a weird dude. This movie romanticizes a weird, creepy type of romance where Gailey spends time with a small girl just to get time with that girl’s mother. Walker and Gailey are such opposites and share no on-screen chemistry, that I just didn’t buy the plot.

But that’s OK. It’s a small blemish on an otherwise wonderful film. It hits different emotions than, say, It’s A Wonderful Life, but it’s magical all that same, and one that I can actually imagine children wanting to watch. It’s unceasingly clever plot, matched by a once-in-a-lifetime performance by Edmund Gween as Kris Kringle and a great child actor performance from Wood make this a must-see movie for any holiday movie fan.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 9

hey there! quick update. chapter 10 IS posted on ao3, but it won’t be getting a tumblr mirror because it’s not really plot stuff, just stupid things i wanted to share. so follow the link on my blog if you want to check that out, or just tune back in for chapter 11 instead

Chapter 9: The Reckoning

Tommy gawks at the destruction wrought upon the pavilion, and without thinking he brings his hands to cover his mouth. Never in all his life has he seen his home so damaged. Some pillars are missing entire chunks! A few of the scorch marks are still smoking!

Where is everyone?

Drawing in a deep breath, Tommy places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can.

Sure enough, it takes a bit, but Sunkist comes running from the direction of his house. The first trick Tommy ever taught her, and it still works like a charm! He’s never been so relieved to see her before, at least until she tackles him to the ground with licks.

“Ow,” Tommy whimpers out, feeling the pain in his bruised shoulders.

Sunkist seems to recognize his discomfort, but she keeps sniffing his face. Yeah, she can definitely tell his nose is fucked.

“Oh, Sunkist,” Tommy sits up and hugs her. “You would- you won’t believe what happened down there today.”

“Tommy?”

He breaks away from Sunkist, and holy shit, Bubby doesn’t look good. He’s very clearly just stumbled in, leaning on one of the intact pillars for support. Tommy almost cries out for him, but Bubby cuts him off.

“I thought I heard you call for Sunkist,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

In an instant, Tommy goes from concerned for his family’s well-being to seeing red.

“What- what am I doing!?” Tommy places a hand on his chest, offended beyond belief. He struggles to push himself up with his other arm, the thrumming pain causing him to wobble slightly, but he does stand. “What have you guys been doing?! I’ve been- I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all afternoon!”

Bubby narrows his eyes at Tommy, and for a split second he glances behind himself, back towards Benrey and Gordon’s home.

“Where’s the kid?” he asks, as if noticing for the first time Joshua isn’t present.

“He, uh. Darnold’s watching him.” Tommy frowns. Well, now that he knows things are somewhat okay up here, he turns back to his dog. “Actually, Sunkist? Could you- could you head down and keep an eye on them f-for me?” He’d appreciate something divine watching over them for a bit.

Sunkist barks in response, trotting into the Viewing Pool. She disappears with a flash, and Tommy feels like he has one less thing to worry about.

Before Tommy can ask a single question, Bubby has already turned around, gesturing for him to follow. Catching up, Tommy notices that Bubby’s legs are stiff as he walks, as if he has to mentally will them to bend.

“What- Bubby, what happened?” Tommy asks.

Bubby sighs. “Come on. I’m sure everyone is gonna want to see you.”

Wow, this is a whole new level of brushing off! Bubby’s not addressing the fact that wherever he looks, Tommy sees signs of a fight in the place he’s known as home his whole life. He really didn’t think it could get this bad.

But then again, what was Tommy supposed to think? They never told him anything.

They make it to Gordon and Benrey’s house, the door to which Bubby pushes open without knocking. Tommy almost calls him rude for it, but then he catches sight of the scene inside.

Coomer is immediately on Bubby, lecturing him for sneaking out while he’s so fragile. Tommy spies his dad in the corner, his gaze focused intently on the couch. And on that couch sits Benrey, Gordon passed out and laying in his lap. All of them look roughed up.

“Stop, Harold.” Bubby pushes his fretting husband’s hands away. “I’m fine, see?” He pauses, for the briefest of moments. “Look who I found.”

And just like that, everyone’s attention is turned to Tommy in the doorway. But Tommy’s stuck on the one person who can’t look at him, his thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘Gordon isn’t moving why isn’t he moving is he okay what happened-’

A pair of hands squish his face, and Tommy realizes it’s his dad. He’s looking down at him with such a sad look, and Tommy’s not sure if it’s intentional, but he stands right in front of him, blocking his view.

“Oh, oh dear, Tommy,” Gman says. “What happ..ened to your, nose?”

Tommy’s stunned expression turns to a glare. “Wh- my nose!? You want- you want to talk about my nose?!”

Gman obviously wasn’t expecting a hostile reaction to that, releasing his son’s face and backing away. It does little to calm Tommy.

“Do you- you have any idea how worried I’ve been!?” Tommy shouts. “You weren’t answering anything! And I come back, and- and everything is fucked up, and you’re just- just pretending nothing happened!?”

Bubby and Coomer no longer meet his eyes, but Gman just stares. Tommy continues, “Did- did any of you even check your phones!? I fucking fought a Skeleton today, and it-” All of Tommy’s fury vasnishes in an instant. Just remembering the empty feeling he got looking into that thing’s eye sockets is enough to twist his stomach. “It- s-so much about that was- it tried something-”

Tommy’s legs give out. He can feel his father by his side, holding onto him, and he thinks Coomer is there too. But his head is racing and he’s gripping at it as though he could slow it down somehow. “It- it was so cold, and everything was- was moving except me, and I couldn’t think, and if it wasn’t for-”

“It tried to possess you, bro,” Benrey finally speaks up. “Same as what it did to Gordon.” He runs a hand through Gordon’s hair.

Tommy blinks. “W-what?”

“I mean, I guess the… the cat’s out of the bag, or whatever.” Benrey sighs. “Skeletons possess people. Us mostly.”

“You’re- you’re joking?”

Bubby, who’s taken to leaning on one of the walls, shakes his head. “He isn’t.”

“Perhaps this conversation is best saved for when our friend over there wakes up, hm?” Coomer points at Gordon.

It takes Tommy a moment to process it all. ‘When Gordon wakes up.’ His dad pulls him to his chest, and making sure that he avoids his nose, Tommy presses into him with his forehead. He’s searching for a word, something he’s feeling, and then he realizes it’s trusted.

He feels trusted.

☆○☆○☆

“Your nose looks fucked,” Benrey comments from across the kitchen table. Coomer had convinced him to abandon his vigil over Gordon in favor of getting something to eat, but so far all he had done was make a few tonedeaf remarks Tommy’s way.

“Uh-huh,” Tommy responds, more preoccupied with his phone.

Darnold ♡: Wait they don’t know that I know?

Tommy: I’m not sure how to tell them???

Darnold ♡: I mean, it sounds like you’ve done enough “telling” for today Darnold ♡: So maybe don’t?

Tommy: Yeah? Then what? Tommy: They’re gonna be teasing you next time you meet!! :(

Darnold ♡: Well that just makes THEM look stupid, right?

Whatever stupid thing Benrey is about to say next is interrupted by a groan from the next room over. They both meet eyes, before scrambling out of the kitchen.

Tommy: Oh hang on Gordon’s awake!!!!!! :D

Benrey beats Tommy by a longshot, sliding to his knees in front of the couch and pulling Gordon into a hug. This only serves to agitate him.

“Ugh, Benrey!” Gordon complains, and it’s the most emotion Tommy’s heard from Gordon in a week. He almost cries.

Benrey isn’t deterred, only hugs Gordon tighter as he begins to ramble. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice I should have seen it I’m sorry Gordon I’m so sorry-”

Gordon sits up, Benrey still clutching him like a koala and apologizing. He barely seems to register it, though, instead bringing a hand to his head and wincing. “My head is fucking killing me,” he mumbles.

“We’re all hurting, asshole, get in line,” Bubby snarks. He’s sitting with his legs crossed on the other side of the room.

Coomer, who had previously been sitting next to Bubby, has made his way to the couch. He places a hand on Gordon’s back and smiles at him. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Gordon!”

Tommy can’t help it anymore. With a wide smile he jumps onto the couch next to Gordon, pulling him (and by extension Benrey) into a hug. “Thank- thank goodness you’re okay!” And yup, Tommy can definitely feel himself crying now, but he doesn’t really care! Gordon’s back!

Having gotten a few more of his faculties in order, Gordon starts to realize that things aren’t exactly normal. Like, for example, everyone around him is injured to varying degrees. “What- why do you guys look like shit?” he asks.

Benrey still hasn’t broken out of his longform apology to make any stunning rebuttals, so Tommy just answers him. “I got- I got punched in the face by a Skeleton,” he nods.

“Holy shit, Tommy,” Gordon actually processes his appearance for the first time. “Is that broken? I can-” He worms his hand out from the hug mess, and before Tommy can protest that he really shouldn’t be using his powers right now, the pain in his face is gone in a flash.

Sometimes it pays to be friends with a god with a minor healing domain. Not when he heals you instead of resting like he should be doing, but other, more fun times.

Tommy gasps. “Gordon! No! You should- you shouldn’t be blessing people, right now!”

“I also got punched in the face by a Skeleton!” Bubby points at his bruised cheek. “The Skeleton was just inside Gordon.”

Oh. Well. He just said it, didn’t he?

“The… the what?” Gordon questions, clearly distressed.

“B-Bubby!” Tommy yells at him. “Why did you say that!?”

“What? We’re sharing things today!” Bubby gestures to himself. “I, for one, would want someone to tell me if I punched them like that!”

“The Skeleton was… inside me?” Gordon stammers out. Slowly, Tommy slinks his arms away from him, and he can see Benrey doing the same.

Gman steps in. “What Bubby, is. Saying, is that. You’ve been, possess...ed, by a. Skeleton, for a whole week.”

“What?! No, they- they can do that!?” Gordon shouts. Tommy thinks he’s about two seconds away from having to stop Gordon from pulling his own hair, when…

“They did it to me.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Benrey to speak up again, not since he revealed the fact Skeletons could possess people in the first place. But here he was, staring straight down at the ground, sitting on his hands.

“Um, we… We knew the Skeletons and their cult were bad for a long time,” Benrey continues. “But we didn’t… know. How bad.” He sighs, looking towards Tommy and Gordon. “I think if we told you guys, probably wouldn’t suck as much as it has. You wouldn’t have been hurt, Gordon.”

Gman places a hand on his son’s back as Benrey talks. Bubby has found his way back to Coomer’s side. All of them have grim expressions on their face, listening to a story to which they know the ending.

“So, uh. Two-thousands years ago. I went down to look at them, and they-” Benrey scratches the side of his face. “I don’t remember much after that, but they got me.”

Benrey draws his knees to his chest. “They made me do a lot of things. I didn’t… World got- got fucked. Society two time, second one didn’t like magic so much.”

Things suddenly start making a lot more sense. It’s like a missing puzzle piece gets clicked into place in Tommy’s mind, or a lightswitch gets turned on, or something like that. They haven’t been hiding this out of malice, or messing with the new guys, it was-

Gordon reaches out, grabbing onto one of Benrey’s hands. He cups his husband’s face gently, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Hey, Benrey, look at me,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.” Benrey launches forward, clinging onto Gordon, and Gordon holds him.

It was fear.

Tommy turns to the others. He has a feeling Benrey is done talking. “But… but why didn’t they do anything this time?” he asks them. “If- if they wanted to destroy things, why wait?”

“Well Tommy, if I had to guess,” Coomer hypothesizes. “We were able to knock Benrey back to normal relatively easily last time, as well as pummel the Skeletons we did find to the ground. Perhaps they wanted to weaken us from the inside before attempt number two?”

Goodness, this is a lot for Tommy to process right now. A societal-wide reckoning caused by the possession of one of his dearest friends? It’s a little much. He leans back on the couch. Damn it, this must be what Darnold felt like earlier.

“Wait a second,” Gordon suddenly pipes up. “Where the fuck is Joshua?”

Tommy pulls out his phone. “He’s with Darnold. He knows what’s been going on, we’ve been texting. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Gordon sighs, but then he changes his tune. “Wait, he KNOWS?!”