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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

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North To The Future [Chapter 6: Self Esteem]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, mild violence, ominous foreshadowing.

Word count: 5.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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For the past two decades, there has been someone living just above your family’s heads—someone as real as any of you, someone with ideas and dreams and idiosyncratic jokes—waiting to be freed from that dusty and unspoken-of cardboard box. Yet in a sense, he was with you all along: a whisper in the walls, a ghost who only roams once everyone else is asleep, a shadow that nudges open doors and leaves cold pockets of air to be stumbled unsuspectingly into. Your mom makes chocolate chip cookies with the same recipe he taught her twenty-five years ago. You’ve always liked Queen’s A Night At The Opera because he used to dance with you around the living room while the album played; it was also the first cassette tape you bought when you started driving. He carved the little wooden bears on the shelf in the study, the umbrella stand by the front door, the salad servers your mom only uses on special occasions. You learn all of this and more as you read the journals of the man who gave you twenty-three chromosomes, pieces of your eyes, skin, hair, voice, blood, fingerprints.

Jesse doesn’t feel anything like a parent—your dad is your dad and always will be, nothing can change that—but he does feel like a friend, someone you’ve known for so long you can no longer unravel where their memories end and yours begin. You can picture things exactly as he describes them. You laugh at his sharp, sardonic humor. And you can feel, in some impossible and yet unmistakable way, mourning when he recedes for a while like low tide. He will make routine notes for weeks, months, and then disappear for just as long. There are gaps that swallow up summers, winters, Thanksgivings, Christmases, New Year’s Eves; there are black holes that your mom’s faith must have drowned in. Sometimes his entries are mere reminders: Deb’s birthday next week, car needs new transmission, agreed to anniversary trip to Anchorage, dinner w/ Dale on Thursday. He did not scrawl these on the kitchen calendar where they could be seen by his family or his friends. He did not want anyone to know how little he could trust himself to remember.

You have no one to share these revelations with. Your parents could not bear it. Your friends would not understand. You can’t even fathom trying to explain the journals to Trent, what they are, what they mean. Bewilderingly, the only person you can imagine sharing them with is Aegon. But you don’t talk to him anymore. You can’t talk to him anymore.

A fourth body is found, this time in Moose Lake: Brandon Knight, thirty-one, a hydrologist, married with a toddler and another baby on the way. The Juneau Police Department is increasingly desperate for tips. They reveal that footprints left in the vicinity of the crime scenes indicate that the killer might wear size 12 L.L.Bean boots, although it’s difficult to know for sure since park rangers, hikers, hunters, and ice fishers of the non-homicidal variety frequent the lakes as well. It hardly matters. Practically half the men in Juneau wear size 12 L.L.Bean boots.

November dissolves into December, the snow falls, the nights grow long and treacherous like fangs.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Babe, babe, can we get Godzilla?” Trent pleads. You’re standing in the middle of the Action aisle at Juneau’s sole Blockbuster. “Babe, can we please get Godzilla?!”

“Okay,” you concede, but with a condition. “Can we get The Mummy too?”

“Ohhhhh.” Trent grins suggestively. His arms snake around your waist. “Two movies, one night, huh? You don’t want to get rid of me.”

“Maybe I just really like The Mummy.” You’re half-joking, but that means you’re half-serious too. In truth, you aren’t sure exactly how you feel about Trent. Sometimes you think he’s sweet and supportive and refreshingly uncomplicated (that’s a polite way of saying not very bright), sometimes he annoys you with his boisterousness and his immaturity, sometimes he’s useful to have around when heavy objects need to be lifted, sometimes he’s just there. On balance, he is a relatively pleasant distraction. Trent has an apartment on the other side of town—a much nicer apartment than Aegon’s, though you try not to compare them, what a catastrophic error that would be—but you usually invite him to your parents’ house instead. They like Trent, they’ve known him your whole life…and you like the idea of your parents always being just a few rooms away, of having an eternal and effortless excuse to send Trent home when you decide he’s overstayed his welcome.

“Yes,” Trent agrees enthusiastically. “Godzilla and The Mummy.” He grabs the Godzilla VHS in the plain blue-and-white Blockbuster box from behind the display case: green, scaley, mindlessly reptilian, a large nuclear-blast red eye. You peek behind The Mummy’s display case. There’s nothing there. All the copies have been taken.

“No!” you groan in defeat.

“They’re all gone?” Trent checks the surrounding movies in case someone restocked The Mummy in the incorrect spot. “Damn, sorry babe. Guess your taste in movies is just too good. Someone else had the same idea.”

In the next aisle over, there is a shrill and familiar sound. It’s Kimmie giggling. You round the corner to find her and Aegon wrestling over a VHS box. It’s playful, it’s adorable, it’s honestly pretty nauseating.

“Oh, hi!” Kimmie cries when she spots you, grinning. She tries to yank the VHS out of Aegon’s grasp but fails. He’s wearing a green flannel shirt, light-wash Levi’s, his gifted parka, and black Converses (far from a size 12, you note). He has also frozen completely. He’s gawking at you and Trent, dismayed and speechless. You’re an unwelcome intrusion. You’re a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

“Hey, guys!” Trent says obliviously. “Sup?”

Kimmie points to the VHS. “I’m trying to convince Aegon to put that back and get Titanic instead.”

“You poor bastard,” Trent tells Aegon, smiling. “What is it?”

Now Aegon is determined not to look at you. He stares down at his Converses instead, kicking at the dull blue carpet, running his free hand through his messy white-blond hair. “The Mummy.”

“No way! That’s what we were searching for!” Trent turns to you. “You should fight him for it, babe. Arm wrestle or thumb war or something. Trial by combat. Pokémon card battle.”

“Rock paper scissors,” Kimmie suggests. “Or, better yet, you can just have it.”

“Do you want The Mummy?” Aegon asks you, holding up the VHS. Your eyes lock; it’s the first time you’ve spoken directly since Thanksgiving, the first time you’ve really seen each other. And it’s the most unnerving feeling, because he’s a stranger and yet so familiar: the deep oceanic blue of his irises, the pale slopes of his cheekbones, the way his hair is forever falling into his face. You think of how few times you ever got to touch him. You think of how Kimmie can touch him always, anywhere.

“No.”

“Seriously,” Aegon says. “You can have it.”

“Trent wants to watch Godzilla anyway,” you say, much more dismally than you intend to, and then quickly add: “I’m okay with that, it has Matthew Broderick, he’s a stud.”

“Just take the movie,” Aegon snaps, offering it, his outstretched arm bridging the gap between you.

Your voice turns sharp, cutting. “I couldn’t possibly deprive you of your ideal date night.”

“No, really, I can get Office Space instead. I love that movie.”

“I don’t want your pity VHS!” you explode.

“Well then I don’t want your pity parka!” He rips it off and throws it on the floor. You glare at each other across a laden silence, surrounded by Romance movies that you wouldn’t mind tossing into an open flame. Trent and Kimmie are dumbfounded. A Blockbuster employee peeps tentatively into the aisle and then scurries away.

“Aww,” Trent says sorrowfully, breaking the quiet like glass, like ice. “Are you guys not friends anymore? Are you actually fighting?”

“No,” you and Aegon say almost simultaneously. You grudgingly accept The Mummy. He puts the parka back on. You pretend everything is fine, badly, like a soon-to-be-divorced couple does in front of their children. Then Aegon grabs a copy of Titanic off the shelf and slings an arm around Kimmie; and if any part of her was suspicious, it evaporates into a rose-gold haze of triumph and infatuation. They mosey away together towards the Comedy aisle, presumably to locate Office Space.

Trent chuckles and, ever horse-like, flips his hair out of his eyes. “You two are definitely fighting.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Look, I get it. Aegon’s a mess. But he’s a very talented mess, so you’ll have to learn to tolerate him. You can’t run him out of Juneau. He’s Boat #27’s frontman. How would I replace him?”

“Resurrect Kurt Cobain,” you murmur bitterly.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” And then you ask with curiosity that you wish you didn’t have: “When’s your band’s next performance?”

Trent beams, proud like a good father. “This Thursday.”

“And what’s the song selection?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You are not loyal,” you say, climbing onto your tiptoes to link your hands around the back of his neck. Strands of his hair—mane?—catch between your fingers. You smile up at him, feeling very very little. Vanishingly little. Excruciatingly little. The irony of you calling him disloyal hits you with alarming force. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because I genuinely forgot the name of it. I’m learning the drum part before the lyrics. It’s something by The Offspring, I remember that. Aegon picked it, he usually picks the songs.”

“The Offspring…” Punk rock, angry, unpolished, chaotic. Yeah, that sounds like Aegon. “Interesting. I can’t wait.”

Trent plants a kiss on your forehead. When he touches you, you are never struck by his gentleness, his carefulness, any illusions of ethereal liberation. He’s just flesh. He’s just weight. “I can’t wait to get back to your house and watch Godzilla.”

You check out your movies at the front counter, adding a bag of popcorn and a box of Buncha Crunch. Through the Blockbuster’s windows, you watch Kimmie and Aegon walk out to her custom-painted pink Land Cruiser: illuminated by murky streetlights, cold wind in their hair, their fingers intertwined.

And an hour later, when you’re sitting on your bed in pajamas watching Godzilla and Trent tries out resting his palm on your thigh for the first time…you let him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s a freak,” Kimmie says, blushing behind her Miller Lite. She’s watching Aegon as the band finishes setting up; she’s a little spellbound, a little shocked…and Kimmie is not easily shocked. “A total freak. Like every position imaginable.”

“Okay, thanks for sharing,” Heather replies, glancing anxiously at you. “Anyway—”

“Like, it’s unreal. Very enlightening. I did not know my legs could bend that way.”

“Kimmie, please,” you beg, flinching away from her. You ply yourself with apple-flavored Bacardi Breezers like antivenom. Dale has officially switched over the soundtrack from Shania Twain to holiday music. Wham!’s Last Christmas booms from the speakers.

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather says. Joyce—who tragically miscalculated the number of pages left in her latest fantasy novel and has therefore resorted to purchasing a newspaper from the vending machine just outside Ursa Minor—shakes her head with disapproval but no surprise.

“I always tell you guys about my boyfriends!” Kimmie whines. “Always, always, going all the way back to kindergarten when I kissed that kid Jason under the monkey bars! And then Ms. Butler told my mom that if she didn’t get me under control I was going to end up pregnant by eighth grade. Yet here I am, proudly not impregnated.”

“And we’re all very relieved about that,” Joyce quips from behind her newspaper.

Kimmie appears to be sincerely distressed. “You’re the people I vent to, you’re the people I want to share things with!”

Heather raises her eyebrows, exasperated. “Yes, well, you don’t need to share everything.”

“He’s exactly what I needed,” Kimmie says, undaunted, gazing at Aegon again. “Nothing serious, nothing complicated, lots of orgasms. And now that my mind is more clear, I can figure out things with Brad. I think I might miss him. I’ve heard he’s super jealous, maybe I’ll call him in a few weeks. You know, once the Aegon situation runs its course.”

Because Kimmie’s life is just one long line of men waiting to get their turn to take her to dinners, movies, scenic hiking trails, Blockbusters, bedrooms. That’s what it’s always like for main characters, right? You don’t want a long line of men. You only want one. The wrong one. “Cool,” you mutter, little more than a whisper. You wonder if in the litany of details that Kimmie feels compelled to share she will mention the track marks on Aegon’s arms. Maybe he told her not to talk about them; maybe she didn’t notice them at all. They’re not really something that would fit into her worldview. They’re serious. They’re lethal.

Kimmie continues: “And thank God we’re compatible sexually because otherwise, he’s honestly kind of depressing. All he wants to do is drink and watch the X-Files. It’s soooo boring.”

“Wow,” Heather contributes tonelessly.

The band is almost ready. Like a gazelle, Kimmie skitters off to the bar to buy another Miller Lite. She’s wearing an extremely cute pink satin dress and matching heels. You can’t hate her. She’s myopic and frivolous and oftentimes frustrating, but she’s also one of your best friends. She has been for as long as you can remember. It’s hard to cut something like that out of you; it’s like excavating a vertebrae or a rib.

“You okay?” Heather asks sympathetically.

“I’m going to jump off a roof.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes I am. I’m going to climb those steps and go up to the patio and jump off right now.”

“This bar is a single-story building. I think you’d live.”

Lyrics from The Distance come back like daylight, recurrent and inevitable: She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade. “Maybe I can hit my head hard enough to give myself amnesia.”

Heather pivots. “How are things with Trent?”

“It’s fine. Trent’s fine. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You don’t feel the compulsion to regale me with completely disturbing and unnecessary details of your sex life? Not that I’m complaining. I really don’t want to know about my brother’s mattress skills. Or lack of mattress skills. I’m not sure which would be worse, honestly. Is he hung like a horse? He looks like he would be. Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

You drain your third Bacardi Breezer. “I can truthfully say that I have nothing to report.”

“You haven’t…?”

“Nope. Not even close.” You look over at Trent, who is warming up at his drumkit and banging blissfully on the toms. He waves, drumstick in hand. You raise your empty glass bottle in reply. Aegon notices this, narrows his deep blue eyes, glowers at you. He has certainly embraced the punk rock aesthetic: white T-shirt, black leather jacket and pants, combat boots, his hair gelled back off his forehead. He has a safety pin pierced through the lobe of his right ear. It does not look professionally done. “He never even tried anything with me,” you tell Heather. She knows you’re not talking about Trent anymore. “We kissed once. Literally once. And it wasn’t even a hot sloppy kiss, it was like…like…I don’t know how to describe it. Quiet. Calm. He never asked for more than that from me. And now he’s spending five nights a week twisting Kimmie into a goddamn Auntie Anne’s pretzel.”

“That doesn’t mean he never wanted you,” Heather says softly.

“Really? Because it definitely feels like he never wanted me. Not in the same way, at least.” Not as badly. Not as hungrily. Not enough to let me fix him.

Bar patrons are gathering around the band: Kimmie, Gary, Matt, more of Trent’s meatheaded friends, a sprinkling of University of Alaska students, dreary middle-aged locals. That will be me someday, you think. Sitting in this same place with these same people watching the same meaningless events transpire day after day after day until I’m six feet underground. Dale is observing the band from the bar, washing pint glasses.

“We should go up there too,” Joyce says, displaying an iota of interest that is bafflingly out of character. She folds up her newspaper and stuffs it inside her sensible messenger bag. You and Heather accompany her and join the audience; when Rob spies Joyce, he stops plucking his bass and smiles. She smiles back, rather shy and secretive.

“Fascinating,” Heather says, and Joyce elbows her in the side. “Ow!”

Aegon takes one last swig of his rum and Coke and then taps the mic. “Test, test.” He sways drunkenly. His eyes scan the room, sharpening when they pass over you. He’s more jagged and angular with his hair slicked back; he looks ready for a fight. Kimmie squeals and claps. There are more applause from the crowd. You and Heather cheer for Trent. Aegon roll his eyes, so quickly most people would miss it. “Hi, I’m Aegon, and we are Boat #27. Tonight we’ll be performing one of my favorite songs. It’s called Self Esteem, a synonym for self-respect or dignity, which are things that certain people present this evening could use more of.”

“Oh, burn!” Trent says. He plays a ba dum tss on his drumkit, eliciting laughter. He is entirely unaware that Aegon is looking at you. No one else seems aware of it aside from Heather and Joyce.

“Fight, fight, fight!” Matt shouts. More tipsy laughter, more clinking glasses. Kimmie whoops and jumps up and down in her pink heels. When the band starts playing, she whips out a lighter from her purse and waves it around in the air. Rob is more animated than usual; he’s enjoying the feisty bassline. You try to keep your eyes on Trent—who is flipping his hair around more or less constantly, ready to run the Kentucky Derby—but they wander back to Aegon. He’s strumming his jade green electric guitar frenetically. He’s more than just channeling the requisite angst and aggression of punk rock. He’s pissed, he’s furious.

Aegon half-sings, half-screams the post-chorus, glaring right at you: “When she’s saying, oh, that she wants only me, then I wonder why she sleeps with my friends!”

“Oh, he’s dead,” Heather growls.

“When she’s saying, oh, that I’m like a disease, then I wonder how much more I can spend…”

You flee to the bar to get another apple-flavored Bacardi Breezer. They don’t even taste that great; you wish you didn’t crave them. “You okay, kid?” Dale asks, peering down at you from beneath bushy eyebrows. He sets another glass bottle on the counter and pops off the lid.

“I’m fantastic.”

“Not impressed with the talent of our local rock band?”

“Not impressed with one of them in particular.”

Dale chuckles, content to stay out of the drama, and ambles away to restock the pint glasses. You gather up courage like roses pulled from a garden thick with thorns. When Boat #27 has finished their song and accepted high-fives and back slaps from the audience, you go to confront Aegon. He sees you and whirls towards the front door, plotting his escape. Heather is standing there with her arms crossed, face fearsome. Aegon bolts up the staircase that leads to the rooftop patio. You follow after him, rage and hot blood pounding in your ears. You sprint out onto the snow-covered roof and slam the door behind you. Aegon leans unsteadily over the side of the building, contemplates jumping, thinks better of it.

“What’s wrong with you?!” you shout at him, your words turning to fog in the air. It’s freezing outside, and neither of you have your parkas. The sky is dark, clouded, starless. The full moon is a blur of dim silver light.

“Nothing, I’m amazing, I’m having the best two weeks of my life, obviously.”

“Why would you do that?” you demand. You’re trembling all over, and not just from the cold.

He shrugs, infuriatingly flippant. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Do what?”

“The song, Aegon, why would you harass me with that song?! You know, the one about me being such a slut despite the fact that you’re literally sleeping with my friend—”

“Who says the song was my idea?”

“Oh, shut up! I know you picked it. Trent told me you almost always pick the songs.”

He sighs dramatically, cynically. “Well, if Trent told you…”

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with Trent?!”

“I’m not obsessed, I’m just understandably a little confused because you were so adamant that you didn’t like him romantically and that he wasn’t your type—”

“He’s not!”

“—And then the second I’m out of the picture you’re, like, all over him, all the time, and you’re here together, and you’re inviting him to your house, and you’re showing him off to your parents who from what I’ve heard freaking adore him, and you’re having these cute little movie date nights, and he’s calling you babe, and, oh by the way, I hope you enjoyed fucking while watching The Mummy, that was my congratulations gift to you both, you’re welcome, thanks for ruining that movie for me forever.”

“I haven’t fucked Trent!” you yell at Aegon.

“What?” He blinks a few times, letting it sink in. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He looks like he’s trying to do math in his head; he looks like he’s realizing that he made a grave miscalculation. “You and Trent…you’re not…like…you’re not serious?”

“Nowhere close to it.”

“…Why?”

“Because I don’t like him enough.” And then you add, because you feel like you should: “Yet.”

“Oh.” Aegon is stunned; but more than that, you think, he is pleased.

“But I guess you like Kimmie plenty.”

“Oh,” he says again, less pleased this time. He stares down at his combat boots and stomps on icy clumps of snow, avoiding your eyes. His mouth twists into an odd, introspective frown. “Yeah, Kimmie’s fine. She’s fun. She’s…she’s more similar to my usual type.”

“Wonderful,” you pitch at him. “Great. I’m super happy for you.”

“Well you don’t have to be a bitch—”

“And guess what? Even if I was sleeping with Trent, that’s not something you get to have an opinion about. Because you spend your entire life crawling from one random girl’s bed to the next, so you’re not exactly Mother fucking Teresa and I’m using every shred of my self-control to not hold that against you. I think the absolute least you can do in return is refrain from trying to publicly humiliate me.”

He nods, chewing his lower lip. He waits a while before he replies, collecting his thoughts, slowing his breathing. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, you didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.”

“I sort of accept your apology.”

The wind roars, clawing cruelly through your hair. It even tears a few strands of Aegon’s loose. He looks at you, all over, starting with your boots. When he gets to your face, he turns away. “It’s a compliment, you know.”

“How is you screaming at me and calling me a slut a compliment?”

“Forget it.”

“You still owe me $300 for fixing your dog.”

“Okay! I’ll sell a kidney!” He storms by you and disappears back inside Ursa Minor.

Downstairs, Heather is pacing the floor and eagerly waiting for you to return. Back at the booth, Joyce is deep in conversation with Rob. Trent is sitting at the bar and chatting with Dale about his bygone days in the Forest Service. And for a second, it feels like you’re seeing double, that Dale is just Trent in twenty or thirty years: brawny, rugged, straightforward, with his glory days long behind him and no thoughts for the world outside Juneau. There’s a jolting feeling, like hitting the brakes so hard the line of the seatbelt leaves a bruise. I’m trapped here. I really, really am.

“Oh, hallelujah,” Heather says. “I was about to come up there. I was worried the Greek boy had strangled you and was dragging your lifeless body into the wilderness.”

You shake your head, distracted. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Maybe not physically.”

You shouldn’t have reminded him about the money; now you regret that. It was low, it was motivated by spite. You don’t really care about the money. You don’t want to deprive Aegon or Sunfyre of anything. “I think I need a change of scenery.”

“Want to walk over to Taco Bell?”

“I was thinking more broadly, but that will work for now. Should I invite Trent?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously,” Heather says. “He’s sort of your boyfriend. Right?”

Right? You suppose he is. You fetch Trent from the bar. Heather collects Joyce and Rob from the booth. Then Kimmie trots over to the amassing expedition, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, her crimped hair beginning to fall flat, a fresh Miller Lite in hand.

“Want to go to Taco Bell with us?” you ask her. “I know it’s not your favorite, but I figured it would be rude not to invite you. You could probably bring your beer. I don’t think the employees get paid enough to try to stop you.”

“Ugh. Yeah, I guess I’ll go if everyone else is.” She spins around and shouts to Aegon, who is guzzling down another rum and Coke: “Hey, babe, want to go to Taco Bell?”

“Um,” Aegon begins. You glare at him. Joyce glares at him. Heather really glares at him.

“Yeah, totally, come with us!” Rob says, shattering the awkward lull.

“Bro, you have to come to Taco Bell!” Trent agrees from where he stands behind you. And then he squeezes your shoulders; be nice, he means. His hands are so large, so powerful. He clamps down on your flesh more roughly than he aims to, maybe even hard enough to bruise. You have to smother a reflex to step away from him. A shudder rocks down your spine.

Where did THAT come from?

Aegon sees this. It’s only an instant, but it seems to stretch on forever: he studies you, something moving under the blue of his eyes, wreckage beneath waves, shadows behind frosted glass. “I’ll go.”

“Yay!” Kimmie trills, joyful and tipsy, hobbling over to wrap him in a blundering hug.

The seven of you bundle up in your parkas, hats, and mittens and venture over to Taco Bell. You give Trent your order and then go with Joyce and Kimmie to shove some of the tables together and furnish them with plentiful napkins, plastic forks, straws, and packs of hot sauce.

You can hear Trent up at the counter: “Hi, can I get six steak tacos, a Nachos Supreme, a Gordita…uh…oh yeah, two large Mountain Dews, and…uhhhh…I think that’s it.”

“You want Cinnamon Twists,” Aegon tells him quietly.

“Oh yeah! Thanks, bro. I totally forgot. And two orders of Cinnamon Twists.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket to pay. Aegon starts ordering next. Heather is still glaring at him.

It takes all three Taco Bell employees to bring the trays of food out to the rearranged tables. You’re sitting next to Trent, of course, with Heather on your right. Aegon and Kimmie are directly across from you; Kimmie has indeed smuggled her Miller Lite into the Taco Bell. Rob is merrily eating his way through a small mountain of 7-Layer Burritos. Joyce has laid her newspaper flat on the table and is reading the Entertainment section while taking occasional, dainty nibbles of a Fiesta Taco Salad.

“Why don’t you guys have a fourth band member?” Heather says as she bites into a quesadilla. “Who am I supposed to enjoy a sizzling, doomed romance with?”

“Gary is single,” Kimmie offers.

“I can’t fuck Gary. He looks like Paul Giamatti.”

“Babe, babe!” Trent complains to you. “Stop hogging all the nacho cheese!”

“Sorry,” you say. You abandon the nachos and focus on your Cinnamon Twists instead. Aegon sighs moodily, looking around the Taco Bell dining room for something to occupy himself with. The last time the two of you were here, you were reading each other’s palms; he was telling you that you wanted him so badly it was eating you alive. It still is, you realize with horror. Oh my god, when will this end? How does this end?

Livin’ La Vida Loca comes on the Taco Bell speakers. “Hey, it’s Ricky Martin!” Trent announces cheerfully. “Just like your posters, babe.” He points to you. “She has, no lie, probably eight different Ricky Martin posters on her bedroom wall. It’s an addiction.”

Rob grins. “Yeah, that’s probably who she’s really thinking about every time you come over.”

Trent laughs, polishing off the Nachos Supreme. Kimmie tells everyone about how you used to cover your high school notebooks with celebrity photos cut out of magazines: Prince, Tom Cruise, Jon Bon Jovi, Cyndi Lauper, George Michael, Madonna, Sigourney Weaver, Princess Diana. More laughter, pure-intentioned yet unwittingly cruel. Aegon is the only one who doesn’t join in.

“It wasn’t about them,” you object. “It was about something, anything, beyond Alaska. It was about having some connection the outside world.”

“And look where you ended up,” Kimmie says with a bubbly, tipsy smile. “Back where you belong, with all your best friends. And we’ll do everything together. We’ll be at each other’s weddings, our babies will grow up together, one day we’ll be those old people at Ursa Minor yapping about the good old days.”

Trent beams and rests an arm across the back of your chair. Aegon sighs again. Joyce buries her face behind her newspaper. The front-page article is about how Microsoft has just hit a market capitalization of over $600 billion and is therefore the most valuable company in human history.

“Hey,” Aegon says suddenly, reaching across the table. “Can I have that?”

Joyce is confused. “What, the newspaper?”

“Just the front page. Yeah, that one. Thanks.” He takes it and loudly crumbles it into a ball. “Anyone got a lighter?”

“Um…” Kimmie roots around in her purse and produces one. She flicks it to life, the pink glitter on her fingernails sparkling. Aegon holds the paper ball over the flame to ignite it. Once it catches, he sets it on the table and watches it burn.

A Taco Bell employee, maybe seventeen years old, tentatively approaches. “Sir, you can’t start fires in here.”

Aegon picks up his large Mountain Dew and—making unflinching eye contact with the employee—dumps the entire cup onto the charred remnants of the newspaper page, extinguishing the blaze.

“Thanks,” the employee mumbles before retreating back behind the counter.

Everyone gapes at Aegon, mystified…everyone except Trent. He’s busy unwrapping his six tacos. He takes a bite of one and then lobs it away. “Goddammit, these are chicken, not steak! Didn’t I say steak?!” He brings his fist down on the corner of the table. The whole edge snaps off, a section of laminate about six by three inches. You don’t realize that you’ve yelped out loud until your six companions whirl to look at you.

The person you look at, strangely enough, is Aegon. There is no anger on his face, no annoyance; you could almost forget that Thanksgiving ever happened. You’re the only two people in the room, in the world. It’s an infinite second in which you understand each other perfectly. The expression on his face is not just shock, not just revulsion…it’s fear. And then he swallows it: whatever he’s thinking, whatever he’s feeling. With effort, he pulls his eyes—wide and darting, rattling with panic—down to the damaged table. He covers his mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit.” Trent chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry, guys.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re the Hulk,” Rob jokes, his voice shaky.

“We’re definitely going to get banned from Taco Bell,” Heather moans, rubbing her temples; and only then does everyone truly laugh.

Once you’ve all finished eating—and Trent has given his most profound apology to the three wretched employees of the Taco Bell, grim like Victorian orphans—you walk back to Ursa Minor’s parking lot together. Trent has one arm tight around you. Aegon keeps glancing at you like he wants to say something; you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You are careful not to look at him again. You don’t want Trent to notice. You don’t want him to catch on to what has already happened, what you undeniably want more of.

“Watch out for the ice,” Heather warns everyone, a true mom friend.

“I’m going to break my neck,” Kimmie says, wobbling in her pink heels, clutching Aegon’s forearm. “I’ll just try to step in Trent’s footprints. I’ll follow them all the way to the bar. They’re big enough.”

Trent grins at her, then announces smugly: “Size 12.”

#aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader

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prozac-shaped-urn · 6 hours

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Deborah Vance meta analysis (again)

Alright, it's time to read too much into shit but considering that JPL straight up said the whole opening sequence of season 3 with the Ceasar statue was foreshadowing... I feel like I can be forgiven for what's about to come out of my fingertips.

Anyway. I am once again putting my psych degree to use in dissecting fictional characters and story arcs. Enjoy x

So! We have the Margesson family with Fred, Martha, Deborah and Kathy. Fred and Martha were five years apart in age, as are Deborah and Kathy (considering there's a reference to Deb's age in 301 as being 70 – which was Jean's age at the time of filming – I can safely assume JPL are using J and Jean's real ages here). That's just enough of an age difference in siblings for there to be a firm power imbalance and hooboy. Hooooooo boyyyyyyyy that's an entirely different can of worms I analyzed a few years ago and turned into 98k... But before I get too into the weeds here, I should introduce my thesis:

Deborah Vance is a survivor, a provider, a mother, and an icon. She was forced to be the first three thanks to her childhood family dynamic and built an empire as a result.

What we've been given in terms of parental backstory is minimal. Deborah mentions her dad being a drinker (304). Based on DJ's addiction storyline, I can reasonably assume JPL are educated on addiction patterns and family trauma cycles. Kathy says their mom wouldn't have wanted there to be animosity between her and Deborah (307), and based on Deborah's isolation and decision to go no-contact with Kathy, I think JPL are leaning towards Deborah needing to distance herself in order to make sure she doesn't explode and cause bodily harm... more than she ends up inflicting.

There are elements of classical narcissism in Deborah's behavior – mainly the need to have zero contact with the narcissist in order to heal. While I don't think Kathy is a narcissist, I firmly believe Frank was. He was jealous, histrionic, selfish, and cunningly manipulative. These are all traits of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and yeah, Deborah possesses these qualities too. The difference between her and Frank, though, is that Deborah is using these tools to ensure she succeeds. She doesn't use them to take someone else down. She lets Ava go so she won't get in the way of Ava's success. She doesn't want to take up all the space in the room. She wants Ava to learn from her and apply the lessons so she can also succeed. It would be very easy for someone to take a single look at Deborah and assume she's hollow – and I think the pilot did a very good job of showing just that! The only glimpse we get behind the curtain is when Deborah sees that Frank died. She doesn't react except to say, “I can't believe they used that photo,” which is classic avoidance and emotional detachment. It's a coping mechanism she developed in her childhood.

I have to interject here and mention Deborah's desire to keep DJ close when she was a child. When a narcissist has their hooks into someone, they don't let go. They will use every tactic known to mankind to ensure the safety blanket they have chosen doesn't leave. So when Frank blew everything up, Deborah left, and Frank went after Kathy because she was 19 and easily manipulated. I think Deborah witnessed what Frank was doing to her and Kathy and decided to protect DJ by pulling her onto the road in a tour bus so Frank couldn't get to her. Obviously this backfired and resulted in DJ having a healthy(ish) relationship with Kathy because Frank was a master manipulator. Deborah saw that toxic father/daughter bond and went, Nope, not trying to fix this one – I'll only make it worse. Not to mention Frank's smear campaign! I mean Jesus Christ, the guy just couldn't wait to sign divorce papers. He had to destroy everything so Deborah wouldn't get somewhere without his help. So she wouldn't succeed on her own. So he would get all the credit, much like Ira did (“He gets to take credit for me? Put my photo up on his fucking wall?” 108).

In terms of why Deborah is the way she is, that's layered and difficult to summarize. A lot of her behavior stems from childhood trauma and her early adulthood. I think if Deborah had never met Frank, things would have been very, very different between her and Kathy. I think they would have continued to support each other and openly communicate, and despite there being a power imbalance between them, as Kathy matured and Deborah witnessed her growth, I think that Deborah would have been proud of the woman Kathy turned out to be. I think she's still proud of the woman Kathy turned out to be, even if she “hates” her or whatever. The dynamic of older sister/younger sister is very fraught with a mix of caretaking and jealousy. It's a super complex relationship, which is only usurped by the mother/daughter dynamic. Judging by how deeply bonded Deborah and Kathy were before 1976, it's very clear why Deborah feels so extremely betrayed by Kathy for what Frank did to them both. And it's also very clear why Kathy's appearance triggers Deborah so harshly she vomits.

Kathy embodies all the trauma from Frank, and keeping her distanced for so long let Deborah fall into a false sense of security and assumption that she had healed from all the shit that happened (which is debunked in 206 – “I got over my husband, but I never got over [losing a late night show].”) She never did. And knowing how Deborah reacts to the possibility of failing, which is to say that she doesn't react well – insomnia, anxiety, obsessive behaviors, defensiveness, blackmail – for her to not only not be healed after 50 years but to also be so overcome by emotion that she has a physical reaction? That's unconscionable. Unacceptable. A weakness. A secret shame. She's failed and it's the end of the world. And in most cases in her childhood and marriage to Frank, it kinda was...

*big deep exhale*

Here's where the rubber meets the road when it comes to Deborah Vance's relationships. Any kind, any shape, any depth, anything. She's afraid to let someone down. She's afraid that she won't be good enough. She's afraid that she won't be strong enough. She's afraid that she won't have all the answers. She's afraid to not be able to provide the way she wants to and has been able to in the past. And it's all due to a number of factors:

Her mother died first

Her mother died when Deborah was 15 and Kathy was 10

Her father died when Deborah was 17 and Kathy was 12

Her father was an alcoholic

Her household wasn't big on rules

As I mentioned, the mother/daughter relationship is the most complicated relationship dynamic. Regardless of what gendered roles are, biologically speaking, the mother/child bond is unique in that the mother's womb is where the child literally grows. Mother and child are connected by blood and tissue for almost a whole year. There are certain things that are established at the time of conception which can never be established by the father and child. It's just that simple. Mother/child bonds are more intense as a result. Being the eldest daughter meant Deborah and Martha had that bond and it was uninterrupted for five years. As childhood psychology analysis can and will predict, having an only child status for any length of time will make the bond between mother and child more intense than that of succeeding siblings. Having multiple siblings doesn't detract from the mother/child bond, but the eldest will always have a little extra special bond with the mother. So Deborah losing that bond first was the biggest blow to her developing psyche. That was a loss she felt more acutely than Kathy.

Deborah became a mother at 15. When a parent dies, it's the eldest siblings – but specifically the eldest sisters – who immediately start parenting whoever is left, including anyone in the family unit – parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, whoever. From what we know of Boomer culture and Greatest Generation morals, there's a very good chance Fred just delegated his parental duties to Deborah and checked the fuck out entirely after Martha died. From what I see Deborah doing when it comes to parenting, I wouldn't be surprised if this is a family pattern and learned behavior based in the fear of not measuring up.

Losing both parents before the age of 18 steals away any remaining childhood. Orphaned children are immediately thrust into survival mode and will stoop to what seem like unwarranted extremes like manipulation, blackmail, histrionic behavior, and bullying simply because they have to survive. There is no real way for orphaned children to support and protect themselves unless there's also a built-in safety net of siblings. Eldest siblings obviously support and protect more than the younger siblings, but the reward of there being kind of a quid-pro-quo or IOU or something along those lines is usually enough motivation to take on the responsibility of caretaking. As supported by the text, Deborah did her job as big sister. She protected Kathy from bullies (306) and she kept Kathy close until Frank got in the way (104). She continued these patterns in other areas of her life: “I would love nothing more than to bury you in more debt than medical school ever could” (106), “I helped a lot of people. I wasn't perfect but I did what I could” (108), “You have no fucking idea how much I do for you” (104). The behavior orphaned children usually develop as a result of being thrust into survival mode looks exactly like narcissistic traits. But as is seen throughout the series, Deborah doesn't use these tactics to tear someone else down. She uses them to survive.

Having an alcoholic parent (and therefore an unreliable parent) leaves the job of parenting to the eldest children, and in Deborah's case, this most likely had the biggest effect on her choice not to parent DJ. (Yes, there could be family pattern/learned behaviors at play here, too, and it might be a mix of both.) Not only does Deborah hesitate to develop a relationship with DJ, she flat out runs away from the responsibilities on more than one occasion. She avoids supporting DJ at the trade show, she offers small comforts of hand-me-down clothes rather than healthy communication, she chides DJ for going to therapy, and she jokes about DJ's sobriety. DJ confronts her numerous times and asks for a relationship but it's all in vain. There will never be a healthy, communicative, supportive, guilt-free relationship there unless Deborah has extensive therapy. Addressing the alcoholism and addiction that runs in her family might be too painful, so she may never do it. I would like to think JPL will at least have Deborah try, because they're crafting a redemption arc with her. This is one area I would like to see developed and explored more.

Having no structure during childhood and adolescent years is very detrimental to the developing psyches of children. There is definitely a thing as too much regimen, but having no structure at all is like giving a child the keys to a car and saying, “Good fucking luck!” It's beyond the realm of unhealthy; it's destructive. The child will learn to adapt, though. Some resulting adaptive behaviors are adrenaline seeking, dangerous hobbies like extreme sports, attachment issues, Borderline Personality Disorder, and attention seeking behaviors. It seems counter-intuitive to develop traits that fit into a structure-free home, but the child is using these adaptations as a way to normalize a very destructive environment. They aren't running hog wild because they want to. They're running hog wild because there is no other way for them to get the attention and care they need. These learned behaviors continue into adulthood in the form of attachment issues, cluster B personality disorders (Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Histrionic Personality Disorder, and Anti-social Personality Disorder), commitment issues, detachment, emotional abuse and neglect.

Based on these five factors, if Deborah didn't take care of herself and Kathy when Martha died, if she didn't take care of her dad when he was drunk, if she didn't coddle to the needs of Frank's narcissism, if she didn't get a perfect score on being the strongest person in the room, then she was a failure and there were extensive repercussions resulting in her, DJ's and Kathy's safety and survival being threatened. The result of this constant need to always be right so she will survive extends into her adulthood, resulting in perfectionism, obsession, tunnel vision, stringent morals, and a lack of flexibility.

Again, I have to stress, the traits of classical narcissism that Deborah exhibits are a result of her need to survive as: the only child of an alcoholic, then the eldest daughter, then the mother figure to Kathy, then the caretaker of her father, then the sole supporter of Kathy, then the wife of a narcissist, then the rejected wife, then the emotionally wounded woman she is known as today. She's exhausted, and it's no wonder why. She's been the strongest person in the room since she was 15. She's had to be. There was no choice. She either stepped up and took initiative or she died. There was no in-between.

For Deborah, the holy grail of success is getting a late night show. It not only symbolizes an happy, intact family unit (because her dad only laughed during Johnny Carson – 304), but it also realistically equips Deborah to be able to provide for herself and her family. It gives her a tangible reward for surviving all the shit that's been thrown her way. It's a tenured career, it's status, it's reliable, it's sustainable (inasmuch as anything in the entertainment industry is). It's all the things her childhood never was. She's worked her whole life to keep her head above water, and even when she could take a day off she doesn't because she's afraid someone else will come along and take her spot – “You have to scratch and claw and it never fucking ends, and it doesn't get better; it just gets harder.” (102)

So... This is why Deborah is the way she is, and this is why I love her. I see myself in her and knowing that she and I share so many things in common is part of the reason why this show means so much to me. Yeah, it's just a fucking TV show. It's fake and all that junk, but to me it's representation. And that means the world.

I can't thank JPL enough for giving me the gift of Deborah Margesson Vance. I also wanna know when they snuck into my childhood bedroom because holy shit...

#hacks hbo #deborah vance #meta

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paceypeternathanslawyer · 3 months

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Something dawned on me just now. This shit always permeates my brain at night when i'm trying to go to bed lol

Why in heaven's name did Deb leave Nathan in S3 and run away? I get that she was scared of Dan and trying to protect herself. But think about it. What was Deb's whole plot (practically) in season 1 and season 2? First she came back determined to be a better and more present mother to Nathan. Then Nathan emancipated himself and she freaked out. Then in S2 she was a bitch to Haley and tried her damndest to break up Nathan and Haley's marriage. When Haley left on tour, she was far to happy at her son's heartbreak in my opinion. But then she went to lengths to try and be a better person. She tried to help Nathan, she went to rehab for her drug addiction. And then she came back with a renewed purpose to be a family again with Nathan, to protect Nathan, and to escape WITH Nathan. She tried to murder Dan and was unsuccessful. She knew that Dan lived and could potentially remember who tried to kill him. She had to know, right? But despite that Deb stayed in a marriage with an abusive man all to protect Nathan and with the purpose that after the election that they would escape together. But suddenly Lucas says "Dan doesn't know who did it but it's only a matter of time" and then suddenly after that she's frightened enough to escape. What changed? Absolutely nothing! She was in the exact same position. Only now she escapes without her son and leaves him with her abusive scary husband! Where is the protection in that? That is a load of shit! The least she could have done was paid for Nathan to move out into his own apartment. Like i'm sure she didn't want to uproot him from his life and by point she was more supportive of him fixing his marriage. But again, move him out of that damn house. Dan just continued to poison his life like he always did. And it's been shown time and again that Nathan's spirit gets vaporized whenever he is around his dad for too long. Hence some of his continued animosity towards Lucas. And even the whole birth control debacle. Nathan was totally in the wrong in that situation but I also think we can't give Dan a pass for his part in it and the way he goaded/pushed/preyed upon Nathan's insecurities. Nathan has had to deal with his dad's shit and we've all seen how that starts weigh on his mind, his spirit and his body. That toxicity that Dan has really has an effect on Nathan over time. It's like he's in that prison again. That mental trap that his dad puts him in. Nathan also hasn't been working so it's not like he can just escape whenever. Nathan got in a car accident and he had to pay a ton of hospital bills. He was in horrible debt when he moved back in with his dad and then subsequently his mom and dad so he's financially at his dad's mercy and Deb once again could have protected him from that but only thought of herself... surprise surprise. Wasn't the first time and certainly won't be the last.

I actually think that feeling of entrapment makes this exchange so much sweeter...

Alone Nathan feels trapped, sad, and powerless. But when he's with Haley, she makes him feel free, happy, and strong. It's them and against the world. They bring out such a strength in each other.

#one tree hill #deb scott #deb lee #nathan scott #dan scott #haley james scott #haley james #haley scott #lucas scott #the wb #the cw

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lovekenney · 8 months

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ok so both of us are debbie gallagher and lana del rey stans, and we have both agreed that debbie would listen to lana del rey, so what do you think her favorite album is? i have a few candidates but i need to know your opinion

born to die and ultraviolence (plus aka and paradise.) call me a local but i think she would really feel connected to born to die. and just one google search born to die is explained as being focused on "Love, sex, and drugs" (more detailed is "The lyrics are about love, sex, and drugs, and feature prominent references to 1950s and 1960s Americana.")

remind you of somebody? and "this is what makes us girls" ugh is so debbie (and mandy and fi. very off topic but carmen reminds me alot of fiona.)

she also would love dark paradise and off to the races. dark paradise just being depressing as fuck and off to the races being abt older guys. in my head i can connect so many lyrics throughout the album to debbie. and in general she seems like the type to be obsessed with btd.

annddd paradise!! i think she really would be in love with the song ride. especially the monologue. i made a post abt this before (debbie and ride) but i think that song is smth she would connect with. paradise is very Americana plus yolo and i think that is smth debbie would be obsessed with. oh yeah she would also deff be obsessed with cola.

she would also love yayo. i would say every song on that album could somehow be linked to debs (BESIDES burning desire. that one is very gallavich.)

ultraviolenccee do i need to explian? i will anyway. The album encompasses quite a bit. so it’s difficult to pinpoint a single subject, but she covers abuse, adoration, and addiction. remind you of someone?

Ultraviolence is about the experience of being in love with being in pain. Almost even track on the record is Lana really explaining that she is fundamentally in love with suffering.

debbie does a whole lot of self sabotaging. a lot of it comes from the fact she craves to be loved and have a proper family who loves her as much as she loves them.

i think she would be in love with every song on that album but her favs would be

shades of cool

sad girl

pretty when you cry

fucked my way up to the top

andddd the other woman.

i dont think she would of listened to all of her albums but i do think she would also love blue banisters! i would of liked to talk abt aka and bb but my energy is running out lol.

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dailyrdjposts · 9 months

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robertdowneyjr: A magical person. A legend to his siblings, and a miracle of faith to his mother, Deb Falconer. The doctors said he’d never come to term healthy, as her diabetes would prohibit it. Incorrect. From day one, a joy, a deep thinker, an empath and an artist. To see his father’s addiction almost destroy everything in the 90s, and to then persevere and overcome his own. Absolutely the least materialistic human I know, and positively one of the most dedicated singer/ songwriter / musicians in LA!!!! Indio Falconer Downey, I salute your soul, spirit and wisdom. Welcome to 30, now rock the F out!!!!

#Robert Downey Jr #Indio Downey #instagram #rdjedit #dailyrobertdowney

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 5 days

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The tv show Dexter is my Roman Empire

I absolutely fucking love the show Dexter and its title character but I’m on my rewatch and ooooohhhh my gosh it pisses me off so bad especially with knowing everything that comes next. And you wanna know why? Because Dexter Morgan was done a terrible disservice. And look I know you have to have conflict to have a show and I love it for the complexities I’m probably reading too far into but its so frustrating to see it all go down. Which if your like me is how you get sucked into wanting Dex to come out on top and get his justice but then New Blood comes in and wakes you up and you’re like left like …. whoa.

Let me explain-

* Disclaimer: this is my personal interpretation of the character of Dexter Morgan in the tv show Dexter, I am in no way a licensed therapist or psychologist but I am neurodivergent and diagnosed with Borderline Personality (potentially ADD and OCD but we’ve yet to explore those in full) and my view is heavily influenced on my own experiences with mental health. This is also not a “oh we should give all bad people a chance” post this is on Dexter specifically thanks *

Before I started my rewatch I was always on how Dexter frequently expresses that he has no emotions or does not have the typical range someone who’s “normal” would. He often thinks on emotionally difficult situations as trivial and he cannot put himself in someone else’s shoes. But he is not void of emotions. He very clearly cares for Debra, Rita, and his children. When Brian is a threat to Deb’s life he is incredibly protective of her, when he’s forced to kill Brian it so visibly upsets him, going through therapy and coincidentally unlocking painful memories, Brian’s death leading to a nervousness that hurts his ability to kill, the pain of losing Rita and his son being left the same way he was as a child, etc etc

Now you might say hey these are all negative emotions but there’s plenty of examples of positive as well. Anytime he receives closure and is put at ease, endorphins released from his addiction to killing, spending any time with his children (I fully believe its not an “act” especially the longer he’s with them), feeling like someone sees and understands him for who he is and accepts him despite all his flaws (the absolute most painful imo), etc etc

A lot of these examples come from the first season alone (also that I’ve seen twice, I’ll update perhaps as I continue) where he has so much potential for healing that I believe gets ripped from him more and more as the show goes on.

It is my firm belief that Harry groomed Dexter to be a serial killer and enabled his negative state of mind therefore ruining any chance at healing from trauma and dealing with a clear neurodivergency he exhibited for whatever sick sort of fantasy he had and could act out through his adopted son. And it pisses me off to no fucking end.

Constantly we are fed as a core foundation of the show and main character that Harry Morgan is who “helped” Dexter live the life of a serial killer. He taught him how to get away with numerous murders, how to avoid police suspicion, how to channel his desires, how to dispose of a body, and most importantly how to fake being like everyone else. He didn’t give Dexter a true chance. You don’t look at a damn child who kills an animal and think “oh he’s gonna be like that for forever so let’s either get rid of him or teach him how to do it safely” (but if you do- fuck you dude), no, that’s a CHILD and in Harry’s case one he KNEW came from a horribly traumatic background. You see a child clearly struggling and you help them. You don’t look at them and tell them that everything they have ever done wrong is part of an evil they will never be rid of.

Dexter looked up to Harry. Dexter and Deb both saw Harry, as most children do their parents, as some super being who knows all and could never do wrong. So when an idol looks at you and tells you for so many years that you are a monster and there is no cure to this darkness inside of you? You believe them. It becomes your identity. Because surely they know everything so why would they be wrong? Why would you question it? You go along with what they say to do and the only relief you get from your trauma is the destructive way you are taught to express it. In Dexter’s case that is taking a life. It doesn’t help that Harry hid so much from him. It doesn’t help that he made Dexter feel as if he was alone instead of getting him proper help and not taking advice from a gosh damned therapist that also grooms children into being serial killers.

Get him into taxidermy or even encourage bloodwork from an earlier age, teach him to be a coroner or mortician or euthanasia tech. Get him someone to listen to how he feels if you can’t do it yourself so he feels heard and seen so he doesn’t grow up thinking that his problems are terrifying so he must bottle them up because no one can handle them. Dexter spends so much time feeling so alone when all he needed for years was someone to just listen to him and not be afraid. And it’s honestly so damn sad as someone who spent so long feeling similarly.

I mentioned I have borderline personality and while I don’t often experience the rage commonly associated with it I do heavily experience depression and anxiety frequently as a result of struggling to understand my connections with others. Similar to Dexter I encounter hardships with empathy and I constantly second guess my relationships with everyone to the point it was so bad in junior high and high school that I began to believe that no one would ever understand me and I would need to keep my thoughts bottled up. I struggled with intrusive thoughts that ranged from self harm to sexual whether it was of me or of others. I find dead things and anatomy fascinating as well as how graphic deaths can occur interesting. I’m not phased by certain things people deem so morbid. Until I got therapy to accept myself and my interests and understand that I am not my thoughts I felt crazy and weird and like I was a square block in a puzzle box. So it is heartbreaking to see Dexter treated like a monster.

I love how New Blood went and I love that Dexter died. I don’t believe as much as I feel bad for him that he “deserved” any sort of happier ending in fact I feel like it fit the story very well. And I above all absolutely loved that Harrison broke the cycle. The show to me overall is terribly tragic and it’s difficult to watch at points because of the statements i have made. But I do love it. It’s very entertaining. Very thought provoking.

And to those who find themself in similar thought patterns to myself or even relating to Dexter as I do- you are not your thoughts. You are not too far gone and you are not any sort of monster for thinking those things. You are cared for you are loved you are seen you are not alone.

#sloanes thoughts #dexter #dexter Morgan #dexter showtime #dexter new blood

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we-re-always-alright · 10 months

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what is fucking wild about going to my aunts place is one: thick Chicago accents that get thicker as you go, I have not heard the letter T in 3 hours

two: former addicts just rolling up for a drink/smoke (all great people but somehow worse (?) than the other addicts not present?)

three: deb (6ft 2in, hair like Madonna, carded me at the local/family dive because she wanted to fuck with me) saying “billy if you have more than one drink, I’ll knock you the fuck out. I love you. but don’t fuck with me.”

four: her husband Vince: “it’s fine it’s a rum and coke”

five: the rum and coke is 32oz

#truly south side Chicago shit you cannot get anywhere else #billy is great he gave us the scoop on the guys doing meth next door #after every drink my aunt is like ‘BILLY IF YOU FUCK THIS UP YOURE OUT’#but it’s like #idk an inside joke #he’s feeding peanut butter to the dogs #thoughts? thoughts #Chicago stories

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openheartfanfics · 1 year

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Newly Added Fics

June 3 - 9, 2023

BRYCE X F!MC

Serendipity [OH/TRR Crossover] - @deb-1106 & @walkerismychoice 🛸Ⓜ

[extended: wip] Drake gets injured and seeks treatment at the hospital. TW: Gun Violence

Part 5

ETHAN X F!MC

Are We Dating the Same Guy? - @jerzwriter ☁

Kaycee finds Ethan on the "Are we dating the same guy? Boston/Cambridge" group on Facebook. [Social Media]

Everybody Hurts Sometimes - @coffeeheartaddict2 📚Ⓜ

[extended: complete] Casey is a top intern at Edenbrook, Ethan is the lead of Diagnostics. They share a secret of treating the revered Dr Naveen Banerji but is it all they will share. TW: Addiction and abandonment issues

Part 16: Numb [Illness/Injury]

Part 17: Second Chance

Part 18: Love Can

Only a Crush - @liaromancewriter ☁

Was it just a crush or the start of something more? [1.1]

Madison - @potionsprefect 📷

Victoria and Ethan head to Madison for a staycation. [Vacation]

Realisations - @coffeeheartaddict2 ☁🏳‍🌈

It is Alexis’s first pride after coming out as Bi-sexual and she comes to some realisations. [Domestic; Family]

The New Challenge - @potionsprefect ☁

Victoria and Ethan navigate their way through the newborn stage. [Domestic; Family]

You & I - @jamespotterthefirst 📚🎭

[mini: wip] Her husband’s colleague seems a bit too interested in him. Dread sets in when they have to go on a work trip together.

Part 2

TOBIAS X F!MC

Angels in Hell - @boneandfur 🛸🎭

I always knew I'd end up working for the Outfit, from the time Uncle Tony caught me with a plastic stethoscope in my hands.

Date Night - @jerzwriter 📱📷

Tobias plans the couple's first post-baby date night. But is Casey ready?

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

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blackacre13 · 2 years

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Can you do part 2 of Debbie getting jealous of Lou and her sponsor

(Part one linked above)

And it wasn’t just that they were both in AA and that Sam was Lou’s sponsor. Sam owned a bar. And Sam rode a motorcycle. And Sam was gay.

Debbie knew that Lou would never cheat on her. She absolutely trusted her. And Debbie knew that sponsors couldn’t have relationships with their sponsee. And Debbie knew that these dilemmas and hypotheticals were all in her head and that she was just torturing herself for no reason. But she couldn’t help it.

Sam wasn’t a criminal. Sam had almost everything in common with Lou. Sam wasn’t an Ocean.

And Debbie was jealous. Too jealous for her own good.

Debbie took a deep breath. In and out. Twice. Three times. Her fingers twitched against her phone, heart aching. She knew who she wanted to call. Knew the only person who could quite understand what she was going through.

But Danny wasn’t around to play the role of big brother anymore.

Rusty’s sobriety had hit him hard. Danny had done nothing but blame himself, chiding himself for bringing Rusty into a world of thrill chasing and illegal activities, with a night cap after every plot, every con, every heist. She wasn’t making light of the situation when she thought that Danny’s rock bottom went even lower than Rusty’s, and he didn’t want to ask Rusty to help pull him out from the hole because he felt like he’d flung his best friend down even lower than himself and didn’t deserve anyone helping him climb his way out.

It was a unique position to watch someone you loved go through this. But Debbie was almost struggling more with the upswings of Lou’s sobriety than the hard times of addiction. Not that she’d been around for much of it. But that’s what made everything even worse.

Debbie could do fixing. All Debbie did was plot and plan and calculate. If Lou had a problem, Debbie had solved it before the blonde had even realized there was something that needed damage control. Debbie had suggested watering down the vodka at the club. Debbie knew Lou needed to be in the kitchen for the heist to work. Debbie even knew how to fix them back then, she just didn’t think she deserved to have things fixed. Oceans were meant to break things. Destroy them. They didn’t deserve structure or settling down or love.

But she knew if she had been around, she could have helped. She would’ve taken Lou to meetings and come up with fun coping activities. Made a game out of it. Made it cheesy so she could pull that messy smirk and eyeball from her partner that said “I hate you” out loud but “thank you” and “I love you” from inside. She would have made her lists. Helped her count. Let her turn her sobriety chips in for prizes. Found a new healthy habit for them to both pick up and do together. They could’ve gotten through it together.

But she also knew that this was her fault, no matter how many times Lou told her it wasn’t. Taking away the blame didn’t take the self-blame and guilt away. They both knew that. Had both learned that the hard way time and time again.

“Debs?”

“Oh,” Debbie breathed, not even remembering having dialed the phone, staring down at it with a puzzled face. She knew she couldn’t have called Danny. But somehow her mind must have settled on Tammy instead as a suitable substitute.

“You alright?”

“I’m doing it again.”

“Being a criminal mastermind?” Tammy laughed. Debbie could hear the blender whirring and the kids shrieking behind her. As much as things changed, Tammy had mostly stayed the same.

“Being a stubborn asshole,” the brunette sighed, moving out of her chair to sit on the floor, her head landing against the wall with a thunk.

“Where’s your better half?” Tammy chuckled, fumbling around in her kitchen no doubt.

“My tits are right here, Tammy,” Debbie smirked, trying to dodge the question that would bring about the actual reason she had called without realizing she had even initiated it.

“Your wife, Deborah,” Tammy practically snarled. Debbie wondered if she had paused in her weird food concoction to lean against the counter with a sigh, judging Debbie from across the Verrazano bridge.

“Debbie.”

“You have to admit they’re a nice pair, Tam.”

“I’m not entertaining this conversation, on the contrary,” Tammy sighed, most certainly raking her hands through her hair with a huff. “Where’s the other pair of tits in your relationship?”

“Do you think she’d let me call her daddy long legs?” Debbie wondered aloud, scratching at the corner of the desk with a frown. Maybe it was time they redecorated in here.

“Deborah Ann, I swear—“

“She’s with Sam,” the brunette finally huffed, Sam’s name sounding more like a swear word than a name, bitter on her tongue.

“Oh.”

Debbie didn’t even have to say anything to know that Tammy already knew everything. She always knew.

“You know she loves you, Debs. Right?”

“Sam does?” Debbie teased. “She knows I’m married, right?”

“Lou, you pain in the ass,” Tammy hissed. “I don’t know why I put up with your bullshit, Ocean.”

“You love me,” Debbie sang, her energy waning as she decided to stop trying to deflect and actually let Tammy know how she felt. “I know she does,” Debbie nodded, whispering it like a secret. “And I know she has every right to a sponsor. And a friend. And someone to confide in. And I just—god, I already sound like a manipulative bitch.”

“No,” Tammy promised her. “You just sound like you love your partner and you wish there was more you could do for them.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not saying you don’t trust Lou, because I know you do, but you’re scared that you don’t deserve the happiness that you have right now.”

“Everything’s been so good, Tam,” Debbie whispered, surprised to feel tears prickling at her eyes. “What if it’s been too good?”

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pearlwestbrook · 1 year

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Welcome to Aurora Bay, PEARL WESTBROOK! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like GRACE VAN PATTEN. You must be the TWENTY-SEVEN year old EMPLOYEE AT THE MOVIE HOUSE THEATER. Word is you’re SAVVY but can also be a bit MALICIOUS and your favorite song is SAME by DEB NEVER. I also heard you’ll be staying in OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS. I’m sure you’ll love it!

STATS.

Full Name: Pearl Odette Westbrook Nickname(s): Rabbit (by anyone who knew her when she was younger) Gender: Cis woman, she/her Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Birthday: October 30, 1995 (27) Religion: None Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Hometown: Palmdale, California Current Residence: Ocean Crest Apartments Length of time in Aurora Bay: 7 years Occupation: Employee at the Movie House Theater Education: Three semesters of community college

Height: 5′6 Tattoos: "Thank you and sweet dreams" in Jeff Buckley's handwriting on her upper left ribcage Piercings: Two in her left lobe, three in her right lobe, right nipple Scars: (tba)

Mother: Helena Westbrook Baker (48) Father: Kristoff Mack (55) Step-Father: George Baker (56) Siblings: Stevie Mack (half-sibling) Pet(s): A mean ass Calico cat called Mrs. Washburn, named after her mean ass seventh grade math teacher

PERSONALITY.

Pos. Traits: Savvy, quick-witted, perceptive, self-sufficient, intelligent Neg. Traits: Reckless, mercurial, sarcastic, pretentious, indecisive, self-indulgent, malicious Likes: Experimental cinema, lacy underwear, fashion, Indian food, weed, cigarettes, making people she doesn't like feel bad about themselves, telling lies for no reason, putting ketchup in her macaroni, Jeff Buckley, sex, dark beers, black metal, calzones, her cat, anything that gets her blood going, talking to strangers Dislikes: Sports, most poetry, modern interior design, minimalism, Star Wars, YouTubers, school, working a regular job, her family, philosophy, organized religion, feeling dependent on other people, standup comedy Fears: Having no direction in life, disappointing people, being abandoned

TL;DR.

Pearl's mother — one of nine kids and whose father had two wives — ran away from home at 17, got knocked up by a man who was part of a cult-like religious organization in Provo, Utah, that she met at the strip club where she worked, and then got ghosted by him. She left Utah, went west, and had Pearl in Palmdale, California. Her mother went back to stripping when she was very young and often left her alone and to fend for herself, and then, when Pearl was in her early teens, married the owner of the strip joint, who also happened to be a drug trafficker. When she was 17 he started trying to get Pearl to strip at his club and that was the last straw. She left home at 18 after graduating high school and ended up in Aurora Bay with a roommate a few years later. She tried community college but hated it and works at the movie house theater now.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

unknown half-sibling of @mackstevie

enemies to besties with @helenasoarcs

toxic undefined relo with @ulyflynn

frenemies with benefits of @rominacortez

casual hookup of @jake-hudson

unwilling victim of attempted parenting with @cristian-valdes

fan of and friends with @amayapowers

casual enemies and 2am deep convos with @carterjohnsons

golden retriever/black cat energy with @greengideon

mutually destructive friendship with @xaviermattthews

bad influence on @liamburkes

HEADCANONS.

Finds it hilarious that her initials are POW and calls herself a prisoner of war

She got the nickname rabbit partly bc of her full cheeks but also bc she'll chow down on carrot sticks like a rodent, only people who knew her when she was younger wld know the nickname

Doesn't actually like the taste of cigarettes but is fully addicted

Despises weed culture and will stop listening when someone tries telling her about strains

tba

BIOGRAPHY.

**trigger warnings for parental abuse and neglect, allusion to homelessness, mention of religious extremism, drug trafficking, alcoholism

Helena Foughner's mother was one of Josiah Foughner's two wives, and she herself was just one of his nine children. It was a deeply toxic family and he was a deeply toxic and abusive man, and she ran away from all of it when she was seventeen years old, about four months before she would have failed to graduate high school with the rest of her peers. She didn't get far at first — she stayed in and around the Provo and Salt Lake areas for the next few years, often couch-surfing with friends and staying with boyfriends and frequenting motel rooms.

In her early twenties Helena discovered stripping, and it was through this that she finally started making enough money to get an apartment of her own; it was also how she met Kristoff Mack. He was charming in a way that disturbed and fascinated her, and not long after the second or third time they slept together did Helena find herself knocked up with his child and unable to contact him. Devastated and pregnant and terrified and with more hatred in her heart for Utah than ever before, Helena decided to leave for good. With what little money she'd saved, she traveled west just her and her unborn baby, before finally settling down in Palmdale, California, almost nine months later where Pearl was born.

Helena started stripping again just a couple years later. Pearl was often left with neighbors or cheap babysitters or completely alone, because daycare was too expensive and Helena couldn't keep a steady relationship to save her life.

Until she could, of course. George Baker owned the strip joint, and he took a liking to Helena. George Baker was also a drug trafficker, and not a very nice man. As Pearl got older her mother stopped stripping, married George, and allowed him to take care of them, which meant Pearl suddenly had some man pretending to be her father figure when it came to all the shitty stuff but none of the good stuff. He thought Pearl was an instigative little brat and he was right, and she thought he was an evil son of bitch and she was right. Helena was drinking too much by the time Pearl was a teenager to do anything about the abusive way her husband spoke to her daughter. She was also too drunk to be any help when, just before turning eighteen, George approached Pearl about stripping in his club. So she didn't bother ratting him out to her mom at all — Pearl simply left home the minute she turned eighteen and graduated high school.

Unlike her mother before her, Pearl had saved up just enough money through retail jobs she worked in high school to afford an apartment with a friend, and they ended up in Aurora Bay. There, Pearl tried a few different jobs before settling at the Movie House Theater, which she enjoyed because she'd always loved movies and, if she'd been able to last longer than three semester at a nearby community college, would likely have gone on to study film.

That being said, her rough start to life never instilled in her much confidence and that on top of hating the school setting meant she gave up on that idea quickly. She's not content with what she does but doesn't have the ambition to try for anything better, so a lot of her externalized rage is a product of that deep unhappiness and dissatisfaction with her life and her perceived ability to change it.

She dates on and off, sleeps around a lot more. Despite it never helping, she tries to fill the gaping void in her life with meaningless relationships that only end up making her feel worse in the end, and often leave her with additional trauma to pile on top of the rest.

Recently, she's started looking into her biological father out of some misplaced notion that understanding where she comes from might somehow give her a sense of purpose. Her mother never spoke of her father save for a first name, but through some deep digging she finally managed to get a last name as well and connect it to a man in Provo, Utah, who was part of a cult-like religious organization with a freaky recruiting website. It's not really a surprise to her given who her mother is, but it was still, deep down, just another confirmation that her life is garbage and she comes from shitty stock with bad luck.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

A current roommate

The roommate she moved to Aurora Bay with seven years ago (could be the same as the current roommate or something could have happened and they or she moved out)

Co-workers at the movie theater or any other little retail job she did before that

A few besties

Weed smoking buddies

Harder drug buddies + a dealer

Someone who tries to parent her (mostly unsuccessfully)

Someone who’s super chaotic with her and encourages all her poor choices

Some exes (would pretty much all have been toxic relos in some way)

Someone she lowkey idolizes

Enemies baybeeeeee

Would love someone she used to be rly close with and they hate each other now

Also would love the opposite, someone that started off on a bad foot with her but now they’re close

Frenemies!!! Friends only when they’re drunk vibe

Fake friends where they pretend to be friends for some reason but both loathe each other actually

Apartment building neighbors that she’s probably annoyed

Maybe one neighbor who kinda sees through her bullshit tho and lowkey is rly helpful like helped her go down to the basement when she blew a fuse or smth

Someone she knows bc she rear ended them when she borrowed her friend's car or smth ygfuhjds could have turned into a friendship or could be enemies now

Someone she Witnessed Something Weird With and now theyre trauma bonded over it

Hookups/fwb/etc

#aurorabay.intro

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