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theia-eos · 2 years

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Hypothetical Path of Radiance Support, Soren and Mist

I would have liked there to be more supports for Soren in Path of Radiance considering how important he is to the plot. I also would have liked to have seen more of how sensitive he is to the moods of others beyond Ike, as Titania suggests that he has always been empathetic to people in Chapter 11 of the game. Also, considering that Mist seems to be as invested in Soren’s return as Ike is, and considering how long Soren was part of the Greil Mercenaries while Mist was a child, it just feels weird to me that they never say a word to each other in the games.

So, here is a script format of what I believe their support conversation line could have been like in Path of Radiance. (They’re plot important characters, so FE9 spoilers beyond the cut)

Support Ranks 3/10/13

[C Support, First viewable at Chapter 12 A Strange Land Base]

[Soren appears on far left side, knocking sounds]

Soren: Mist?

[Mist appears on far right side]

Mist: How do you always know it's me?

Soren: The way you knock.

Mist: No way! It's gotta sound the same as everyone else's.

Soren: Everyone knocks differently, and it changes based on their mood. You're here to check up on me.

Mist: How can you tell that?!

Soren: The tempo, the force, the position of your hand on the door. …I'm fine, Mist.

Mist: sigh…Okay, Mr. Knows Everything, why am I here to check up on you?

Soren: Hmph. I can't read minds. …I wasn’t terribly injured in our last fight so I have no idea what’s bothering you.

Mist: You haven't been eating dinner lately.

Soren: I'm eating as much as I normally do. …Is that all you were concerned about?

Mist: Does everything always have to be business with you all the time, Soren?

Soren: I don't start idle chatter, no.

Mist: … um....

Soren: Do you miss being able to talk Ike's ear off about every passing interest?

Mist: Uh-huh…sniff… Everything’s so different than it was. Ike barely has time to chat, and his head is so full of everything going on and taking over the company from-- …From Dad. …I don't want to bother him.

Soren: He cares about you. And I doubt he'd think of you as bothersome, despite how busy he is.

Mist: …Thanks. …Do you think I'm bothersome?

Soren: I hardly see how that would matter.

Mist: You've been with us forever. You're family.

Soren: …sigh… No. You do well on the field, listening to direction and you handle a lot of work to keep things going outside of that. Titania will probably worry about you doing too much, and you do more than is a fair division of labor--

Mist: What about as a person?

Soren: You get along well with others. No one in the company dislikes you, if that's what you're worried about.

Mist: I guess it was… Thanks, Soren! Glad I checked up on you!

Soren: …sigh…

[B Support, First viewable at Chapter 19 Entrusted Base] [Mist appears on the middle left side of the screen]

Mist: Haaaaa! And... Hiyaaaa!

[Soren appears on the far right side of the screen]

Soren: …

Mist: …No…that’s not quite right…

Soren: Your grip on the hilt isn’t right.

Mist: Huh?

Soren: The way your hand is positioned. It’s not the same as the way Ike holds it, even accounting for your hands being smaller than his.

Mist: Really? You can tell from that far away?

Soren: Yes.

Mist: Could you show me how it should be? I don’t want to keep bothering Ike for this stuff. He’s got the army to lead and everything.

Soren: Like this.

Mist: Like this? Er…

Soren: …sigh….

[Soren moves to middle right side of the screen]

Soren: Something like that, I think. The pressure you exert is something you’ll have to figure out on your own.

Mist: …Hm…Like this…

[Soren moves to far right side of the screen]

Mist: …Yeah! This feels more like it! Haaaaa! And... Hiyaaaa!

[Soren disappears]

Mist: Thanks a lot! How do you keep track of all this stuff? The way everyone fights? The way everyone knocks?

[Soren reappears on the far right side]

Soren: I always have.

Mist: If you weren’t so busy being a strategist, maybe you could help everyone perfect their form.

Soren: Not a chance. I’m only helping you because you’re Ike’s sister and I’ve watched Ike train in that style of swordsmanship for years.

Mist: hehe… Special family treatment, huh? Well, I won’t complain.

Soren: Why are you training in swordsmanship in the first place? Healers usually use magic.

[Branching Conversation 1, If Rhys is alive and promoted]

Mist: Well, yeah, but that’s kinda your thing, and Rhys’s.

[Branching Conversation 2, If Rhys is dead or unpromoted]

Mist: Well, yeah, but that’s kinda your thing.

[Conversation continues]

Mist: And I’m Greil’s daughter too. …And it helps me feel closer to Father and Ike. I feel like Ike’s a million miles away, ever since he became general and lord, and I just-- … I want to be more like them. Strong and brave.

[Branching conversation 2, If Mist is promoted]

Soren: … Only a fool would call you weak, Mist. You’ve become a lot stronger since we fled from Daein.

Mist: Thanks. I’m going to get even better at this than Ike, you’ll see.

Soren: I doubt that. But you may come close.

[Branching conversation 2, If Mist is unpromoted]

Soren: … Only a fool would call you weak, Mist. You’ve endured quite a lot since we fled from Daein.

Mist: Thanks. I’m going to get even better at this than Ike, you’ll see.

Soren: I doubt that. …In a few years you might be able to come close to him.

[Conversation continues]

Mist: That’s a vote of confidence, coming from you.

[A support, First viewable at Chapter 22 Solo Base]

[Soren appears on far left side of screen]

Soren: …

Mist: sniff sniff…waa….

[Mist appears on far right side of screen]

Soren: Mist?

Mist: …sniff…

Soren: I can go get Ike or Rhys?

Mist: No, I don't want to talk to them. …It’s gone…

[Branching conversation, Chapter 22-25]

Soren: I'm sorry we couldn't find it in Talrega.

Mist: Huh?

Soren: Ike and I spent a while looking for it. It evaded even my eyes, so I don't think you simply lost it. Someone must have taken it.

Mist: Uh-huh …sniff….

Soren: I heard Ike talking to Nasir. I-- …I know Commander Greil said it was special to you, but did it have any value?

Mist: No…It was just some old bronze thing. …It was my mom's, but-- sniff…I mean, it glowed sometimes. I thought she was talking to me through it when it did.

Soren: Glowed?

Mist: A gentle blue flame, but it didn't burn. I asked Dad, but he said that was just what it did. So long as I kept it, the flame couldn't hurt anyone.

Soren: The flame couldn’t-- …?

[Branching Conversation Chapter 26 on]

Soren: …I’m sorry I didn’t notice Nasir’s motives sooner…

Mist: …I just…Father…Mother… sniff… they died to keep it from being held by Daein…and…I…

Soren: It wasn't your fault…Nasir…

Mist: But I'm the one who…sniff…showed him it…

Soren: He was a spy…earning your trust to get the medallion was his goal. …I should have been more vigilant…

Mist: …sniff…

[Conversation continues]

Mist: I can't believe I lost it. I can't believe it's gone. It's so. I-- I feel like I've lost them both forever… waaaa….

Soren: I'm sorry…

Mist: Thank you…

#tellius #fe9 #soren #fe soren #mist #fe mist #fan support #fan written support #not really meant to ship them #I'm Ikesoren trash so #the vibes should be more like #you're my crush's little sister so I put up with you for him and you're my brother's boyfriend so you're my brother too #also #just saying #they missed an opportunity to make Soren feel guilty about not outing the spy that stole the medallion #and I can't let an opportunity like that pass me by

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seerupnorris93 · 2 days

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tartagilicious · 3 years

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vyn richter and why it’s important to understand his motivations (a character analysis) 🍋

-> that’s a fancy title LMAO but i just wanted to collect all my thoughts about this character in one place!! it’s not anyone’s obligation to like him or otherwise, but i do feel bad seeing people base their perceptions of him off of a few scenes/thoughts in particular. it’s okay for his personality to put you off a bit, and honestly, it should — but that’s what i’m here to talk about :D if you’re not in love with vyn by the end of this post then i’ve done my job wrong

-> this might be added to in the future, but it should generally hit all points at the time i’m posting this. if you have any extra thoughts, please don’t hesitate to say so!

!! this post contains major spoilers from vyn’s personal story chapters! (3&4)

1. vyn’s chapter two call to artem

-> our first impression of vyn as players is that he’s scheming, and possibly dangerous to be around based off of artem's reaction to us being with vyn for so long. this isn’t denied in any way at first, and in-game, we barely acknowledge artem's concern after the fact. but, in reality, this introduces a very large part of vyn’s character (albeit in a slightly misleading way). over the phone, he tells artem,

“she is like a rare rose, and if kept in a petri dish in your laboratory, under good conditions, she may bloom brightly and beautifully. but without the baptism of wind and rain, she would never have a fresh and tough soul, and would be closer to an artificial flower made of silk. don’t forget, you are lawyers."

let’s pick this apart real quick 😰 he reveals his tendency for control point blank, and references “keeping” the mc so that she blooms “brightly and beautifully”. but this is less about manipulation and keeping her to himself and rather more about a want to help her succeed. he directs her through her meeting with the PUA member in his personal story, and during chapter two of the main story, lets her do everything she can handle on her own that relates to the case. he will constantly involve the mc in dangerous and/or difficult parts of the investigations as to help her grow, hence the “don’t forget, you are lawyers.” part of his statement. though, it does also go to show that he will have her back closely in these situations as well. this happenstance also seems like it holds a certain significance, as during the scene, it mentions that he tends to the roses on his windowsill as he talks, and coincidentally also tends to call the mc “my rose”.

but this raises the question, if he likes to be in control, will he ever manipulate you?

2. vyn’s SR thought, “fake tears"

-> i’ve actually never read this date personally, but i skimmed through it when i was farming s-chips so i think that counts for something LMAO. i’ve seen this as the main reason people say that vyn is creepy and/or manipulative, but i get this one, honestly. during the date, vyn supposedly admits something traumatic, and leans to the mc for comfort, saying something similar to “all i need right now is you.”. now, the final evolved version of this card also features him in the mc’s arms, slightly smiling as he looks at the “camera” through half-lidded eyes. from a basic understanding, the thought is titled this way because he didn’t actually need comfort, he just wanted to be close to the mc in a way that seemed genuine. but, with outside knowledge, this is less of the case — vyn is completely capable of initiating intimacy, as seen throughout his story and in just the way he teases the mc in general. but, this is largely viewable as a form of trauma response. it’s hinted in his personal story that he was part of a dysfunctional family as a child, and received less attention than he should've, hence his tendency to plan his way into big displays of affection from her. but, no matter how you look at it, this is still manipulation, as he’s taking the mc’s concern and essentially monopolising on it without realising how genuine she actually feels. so, totally valid to feel weird abt this one <3 the one thing i can give him though, is that he will never force the mc to comply to his wishes, whether in this scenario or in the future. if something he’s “planned” doesn’t work out, he may express his displeasure later, but will not subject the mc to it.

3. chapter three of vyn’s personal story (3-12)

-> if i’m remembering correctly, the global server only has two chapters up atm, so i’ll try my best to be as vague as possible to avoid spoilers! so, when the two are confronting the culprit of the PUA case (separate point but i actually feel so bad for the culprit, omg), it’s revealed that this person is a longtime colleague of vyn’s —making their argument a bit more personal:

"heh… then you, vyn. the lawyer may not understand, but to you and i, in our eyes, we are obviously looking at the same landscape. we are the same kind of person… don’t you believe it? don’t you believe that the human heart can be manipulated?"

“i do not deny this statement, but (culprit), this does not mean that what you did is correct. whether the human heart can be manipulated by psychology is a subject that has to be studied intensely, but it is definitely not a subject for people like you."

he directly says that manipulation of the heart isn’t right, and essentially is beneath him. but, if you’d like to look at it in a certain way, vyn even suggests that manipulation of the heart isn't for him either, as he didn't deny that they are similar.

4. chapter three of vyn’s personal story (3-12)

-> in a jab towards vyn, the culprit deliberately reveals something to the mc that ends up explaining vyn’s tendencies perfectly:

v: “you are just a kid who keeps asking, 'why can’t i get the recognition and care from others?’ because of your childhood experiences. you are afraid of being ignored, afraid of being betrayed, afraid.. of being lonely."

(culprit) sneers and suddenly turns towards me.

c: “lawyer, did you know? in fact, vyn also has things to fear."

c: don’t you know? come on, let me tell you, he hates everything that is imperfect--

the culprit was only halfway through his words before vyn instructed the police to rush in and block his mouth.

-> vyn is afraid of his flaws being revealed to her, this is seen in his face, and especially in the way he handles it. so, while what the culprit says makes sense, that’s not the only instance where he is insecure about the way he goes about things. in a later episode (3-15), he and the mc have this conversation:

v: "if one day, the person you love most reveals the most unbearable and ugly side of his life, will you be like (victim)?"

mc: “um, maybe a little similar, but not exactly the same?"

v: “what?"

mc:”i think i will do my best to try to save him, but instead of sacrificing my own life, i am more than wiling to face it with him. i will be with him until the day the storm passes."

v: “..your answer is always so unexpected.”

-> these two instances compiled show just exactly what he thinks of himself and his tendency to want control. it shows that he knows it’s not right, and how he is uncomfortable subjecting the mc to these parts of him that could potentially hurt her.

5. chapter four of vyn’s personal story (3-15 + 4-15) (also, just a warning, pure romantic plot spoilers ahead to prove this point LMAO)

-> vyn my beloved!! a common theme throughout the fourth chapter is how both of our main characters define love. in the last episode of chapter three, vyn is asked by a student what his version of love is, and he says this:

“it is a unique miracle. it makes you want to explore, touch and find out everything uncontrollably. even at one point, i can’t distinguish between rational and irrational for a short while because the boundaries are blurred. there are too many people in this world who have lost their lives, but there will always be such a person. she makes you better, makes you believe that everything is good; and makes you look forward to it.. the future.”

-> this is even more sad when you realise that this entire response is a patchwork statement of previous words they’ve both said. he uses her to define his standard of love, and he complies his own conclusions of what she’s said to him. it’s as if she is the one who’s taught him what the meaning of love really is, and goes to show just how important the mc has become to him.

now, the most important part of this section: vyn, in the beginning of chapter four, made it clear that he would somehow get her to confess to him by the end of a trip they took. because the mc was either in self-denial or otherwise, she didn’t understand what her feelings for him meant. but as a psychologist, vyn could see the signs loud and clear. yet, he’s still shocked to see her care so much about him.

mc: "just now, if we hadn’t got here in time…"

i gradually become incoherent. the sight of him even cast a layer of water on my vision. i couldn’t help but cry.

mc: "vyn, i’m so scared.” (most context is redacted for plot spoilers)

v: “you… are you crying? are you crying for me?”

his voice trembles with a rare tone. a few seconds, he rushes to hug me, not sparing a moment.

v: “don’t be afraid, i’m fine, i’m still here."

-> he sees all of these signs so clearly, but does not force her or manipulate her to reciprocate the love he feels for her even now. as he helps her to realise her feelings, he is gentle.

v: “in truth.. i am very happy."

mc: “why?"

v: “well, because you were crying for me just now. you were worried, weren’t you?"

mc: “…of course, it was dangerous just now."

v: “but don’t you think that your emotions just got out of control? what is it about me being in danger that makes you lose control so easily?"

mc: “!!!”

mc: “…"

why, why is my behaviour so abnormal? am i scared? scared of what? losing vyn? but why should i be afraid of losing vyn? is there something i haven’t noticed yet?

v: “why are you at this point and you still don’t understand… but, i have no patience to wait any longer."

he approached me gently, and brushed my cheek with his right hand.

mc: “v-vyn-"

v: “i asked you before, would you ever fall in love with someone? but, you say you don’t know, because you’ve never considered this issue. later, you asked me again, how do you know you’ve fallen for someone?"

v: “do you remember my answer at the time?"

mc: “you… you said that when you fall in love with someone, your sensibility beats your reason. you will miss him all the time, be happy because of his joy, and sad because of his sorrow."

v: “so, is there such a person in your heart?"

mc: “wha-"

v: “don’t avoid my question. ask your heart if there’s an answer, i don’t want anything but that."

in short, vyn is a very complicated character but he’s so so worth understanding. i do believe that in upcoming chapters, the mc will understand his need to have control and stand with him “until the storm ends”. happy tot playing, everyone ~

#tears of themis #vyn richter #tears of themis x reader #vyn richter x reader #mo yi #character analysis #tot #tears of themis headcanon #spoilers #tears of themis translations

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libraford · 4 years

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The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time.

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word.

Don't.

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs.

Let them.

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem.

Life is surprising.

I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now.

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in.

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think."

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly.

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!"

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door.

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later."

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice.

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away.

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time."

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying.

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods.

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register.

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out.

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief.

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices."

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special."

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story:

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them."

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?"

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious.

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag.

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison.

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking.

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen.

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!"

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture.

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow.

And that's why there are rules.

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful.

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said.

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse.

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street.

Wren drives very fast.

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry.

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief.

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect."

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her.

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing.

So now there are rules.

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag.

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out.

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first.

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00.

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight.

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags.

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it.

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it.

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you.

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble.

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules.

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount.

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways.

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said:

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!"

"They've been sitting without water for hours."

"They're still good!"

"They were out in the sun."

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!"

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears.

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage.

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me.

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email."

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday."

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!"

"Saturday."

"Yeah."

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday."

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale."

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday."

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer.

And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together.

"Sure."

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink."

"Sure."

I print it. I ring her up $5.

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free."

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5."

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time."

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?"

She grumbled, and paid.

And again.

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?"

"When the work is done."

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren."

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?"

"When the work stops, I rest."

And again.

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up.

"Oh baby..."

"No. We're doing away with the discounts."

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling.

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-"

"How can you do this to me?"

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement."

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?"

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar."

Stamp, stamp, stamp.

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back.

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register.

"Is it now?"

And again.

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin.

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned.

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go.

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me.

I began taking down numbers.

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens.

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler.

"$54? What do I have that's $54?"

"The oasis. They're $2 each."

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1."

"I can text Grandpa and ask her."

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!"

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses."

"22.50 is everybody prices."

"Welcome to 'everybody.'"

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!"

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else."

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me.

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me.

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this."

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.'

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand.

"Can you do something for me on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty."

"9.50."

"9.50's the regular price."

"Regular price is $14."

"No it ain't."

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals."

She put them back.

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy.

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!"

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice.

Not here.

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be.

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes...

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.'

"No."

It's such a great word.

There are rules and there are rules.

And there are thieves that the rules are made for.

And there are words like 'no.'

And all those things are magic in very human ways.

7K notes · View notes

astarryon · 3 years

Text

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart.

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp.

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself.

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #tfatws #catws #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #series #angst #hurt #comfort #1940s bucky

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years

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🍄Mon 21 Dec ‘20🎉

Liam says he just finished his last thing of the year- CONGRATS BUD I know you were stressed about getting it all done!!- and issues a formal thank you to a faithful helper: his laptop, which “has seen more zooms than I've had dinners, thank you... you can rest now.” That last thing he did was an interview about the wizarding world thing, not yet posted, although he then comes back one more time to post a santa-hat bedtime selfie captioned 'merry christmas you filthy animals'. He's leaving us with plenty of prerecorded content to keep the updates going during his break though; for example he and Roman Kemp have something coming on the 27th, which makes sense what with it being a day ending in a Y and all, it's something about a naughty or nice list, I guess we'll see. And in their fourth to last alarm today, the final round of christmas cracker jokes-- bringing it up to date with an “elf isolation” punchline, nice! I mean not in the sense of being funny but like, timely, also Liam is actually back on the alarm so cheers to that.

They could have hit up Louis for jokes-- he's famous for them! Apparently! A museum exhibition in Baltimore (viewable virtually) quotes him as the author of a vaguely science-y joke-- (“why did the mushroom go to the party? because he's a fungi!”). He definitely isn't the originator of it but me as the curator who was like 'well he said this once and any excuse to write Louis' name on this wall, LET'S DO IT'. Everyone but you is out here telling bad jokes Harry, come reclaim your crown sir!

Niall puts on a cowboy accent for the dramatic unboxing of a Diplo promo package (LP, hankie- “very sexy!”, t-shirt, USB stick- “jeez haven't seen one of these in a while”), it's for a country album with features from Julia Michaels, Cam, Orville Peck, and more that came out back in May, and he knocks off some official sponcon unboxing as well, looking cozy in the promotional knitwear.

Aaaand the Clarks are at it again! First grandma Ruth said Louis was in LA with Freddie until two days ago (she also said he was going to spend xmas with him, pick one lady, but anyway) and everyone put on their thinking caps and were like okaaaay he COULD have flown to LA the day after his show and been there the 13th-18th but that seems crazy and would mean NO quarantine on either end (definitely not allowed in either place), but there's a rumor that Harry is back in London maybe Louis went to LA and got him or something?? But just when they almost had us, enter Brett to try to oversell and screw it all up- in response to a fan pointing out how ridiculous that was, Brett said 'no it's not, Louis was there for two whole weeks his livestream was just prerecorded' LMAO. This is pretty epic since your options are now: you can believe that Louis pulled a conspiracy of moon landing level complexity to pretend that a show that had been recorded previously was live, enlisting not just Veeps but also dozens of people also pretending it was happening at that time, many of them on their obscure official business accounts, without a single slip up, for NO REASON (he could have just visited the kid at... any other time, or had the show at a different time, or been like here's a prerecorded show), OR you can believe that Brett and his family are, hmmm, giant liars! Wild notion!! Sooo anyway guys tell me again how YOU don't believe in wacky conspiracy theories like us crazypants larries... I'm waiting...

#louis tomlinson #liam payne #niall horan #brett does not understand the two week quarantine rule lol he def said that cause he was like TWO WEEKS #that's what it's supposed to be for regulations right?? a TWO WEEK VISIT what an idiot #(Louis otoh knows all about two week rules)#as usual Liam alone is keeping this account from having to branch out to random other celebs thanks for prerecording stuff for break pal #hope that vaccine gets working soon after he goes for his big retreat or these are about to get reeeeal short #bg #freddie #diplo #roman kemp #20 dec 20 #but if I WAS branching out to random other celebs it would be Phil Lester dressing up like Harry (Fine Line cover)#he complains about his trousers being see through tho so not a very good impression overall Harry would have embraced that

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attina-the-responsible · 3 years

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The Triton House

This is part of a series that one day may be complete but also may never be complete. As most of you know I’m like a huge #spatial person in my writing, so all my character’s houses/apartments/living spaces are really well mapped out in my brain? And I thought it’d be fun for people to see. (And a good reference for those who may RP in those spaces at some point.) Also, shout out to the mersisters for letting me force my ideas on them, lmao.

@andrina-the-amazingsupergenius, @adella-the-idyllic, @arista-the-musical, @aquata-the-champ, @alana-the-brilliant

Overview:

The Triton House is a 7 bedroom, 4 bath house in the richest neighborhood in Swynlake. It was built originally in 1909. This chateau sits on a half acre property with an original brick façade and lattice along the front that is covered in sweet-scented wisteria. Even the outside boasts a cheery, warm environment which is only expounded upon by the interior.

*note: click to enlarge floorplans!

**note: pictures in the aesthetic are to give an overall #feel of the house, but don’t necessarily indicate the exact furniture/decorations/floorplan. the floorplan, on the otherhand is not quite to scale but i did the best i could.

1. Living Room

The front part of the Triton household is a spacious, open floor plan, with the kitchen to the immediate left and the seating area on the immediate right. Guests arrive on a dias and descend two steps in either direction, or forwards towards the back of the house and stairs. The living room is decorated in a clean, but homey way, with plenty of seating area, both for the comfort of the large family and the benefit of any guests they may have. There is a chest of blankets that get passed around on colder nights. A large telly can swivel on an axis if someone prefers one seat to another but is large enough and set in a place so as to be viewable from most living room seats. The colours are cream and blues, with other accent colours and many mismatched throw pillows, some with quirky sayings and others that were crocheted by some of the girls.

2. Kitchen

The Triton kitchen is a large, boisterous room of the house. With a large amount of counter space and a six-top stove set into the island counter, it is ideal for cooking for a significant group of people. The oven sits next to the refrigerator and is state of the art. The cabinets are arranged in a neat, organized way, with each girl having a shelf for her own snacks and goodies. Everything is labeled and diligently upkept. The refrigerator is covered in photos of family/friends as well as cards, certificates of merits, medals, and other familial memorabilia. Once again, the kitchen is decorated in a homey fashion, with plenty of cliche sayings hanging on the walls (think: Live. Laugh. Love. style.) (see: the middle, top image.)

3. Dining Room

The dining room in the Triton household is rather cramped, but a much frequented place for the Tritons to gather. Dinners are frequent and even if missing one or two members, still crowded affairs, usually involving guests as well. There are extra chairs that can be squeezed in to make room if necessary and everyone is used to bumping elbows. Still, it is a lovely little room and has served the Tritons well in the almost thirty years they’ve lived there.

4. Sun Room/Music Room

Down the hallway, making your way towards the back of the house, one comes across a door to the left. One of the most peaceful rooms in the house, the rambunctious, fast-paced nature of the Triton abode is usually left behind when entering this room. Originally a sunroom, it still boasts large floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls, facing northwest, in order to catch the afternoon sunlight. Here is where the Tritons store and practice their various instruments, of which only a few are listed here: a grand piano, a keyboard, a classical harp, a saxaphone, a drumset, and several guitars. The Tritons are an actively musical family, though the music room is not as busy as it was several years ago. Now, it is a peaceful place, still used often for practices, but also for contemplative journal-writing, reading, or other such pastimes, when one needs a moment alone.

5. Guest Bedroom/Office Space

Once the permanent home of the Triton’s nanny, Benjamin, the room was vacated several years ago. Located down the hall at the back of the house on the right, across from the music room, it is now a guest room/office that is used on occasion. Even though it is a guest room, it is still stocked with cozy decorations and family photos.

6. Washing Room

If you venture past the music room and guest room, you will turn right and see a door on the right hand side. Always overflowing with laundry, but somehow usually tidy, the washroom sees a lot of action from the Tritons’ various activities. This room also is decorated with typically cliche saying placards and other cozy, homey touches.

7. Guest Bathroom

“It is down the hall, to the right, to the right, and through the washroom!” is a common phrase during Triton parties, or when someone visits for the first time. Though it is tucked into the back of the house, the guest restroom sees frequent use, both from inhabitants whilst downstairs, as well as the copious guests that flow in and out of the Tritons’ doors. Decorated in an ocean/beach theme, because Athena thought she was very funny and now it is a bit of an inside joke that they won’t change.

8. Underwater Grotto

Instead of entering the washroom, if one looks straight on after turning right down the main hall, they will spot a door with a state-of-the-art lock on it. If asked, a Triton will reply with a laugh and--depending on who it is--you will get any number of responses as to what the room is used for, from a superhero lair to their father being paranoid about storage. The mysteries of what is in the Triton basement are revealed to only a select few. Behind the door is an indoor saltwater pool. Damp and dark, the pool is magically enhanced to be quite large and deep, perfect for mermaids. The floors and walls are made of stone, so the whole place looks more like a cave than a room. It has an inclining entrance to the pool and spreads the length and width, with a few places for sitting around the edges and dotted in the center in large rock croppings. The Tritons can often be found here with each other or the other mermaids/selkies in Swynlake. It is known as a haven for mercreatures of all kinds.

9. Upstairs Hallway

Back at the front of the house, if one does not enter the hallway, they have the option to ascend the plain staircase. (If one looks behind the staircase to the wall, one will see dozens of notches in the wall, labeled with dates, heights, and names of the Triton girls.) Along the wall leading upwards is a collage of family photos that cover the wall in the most typical fashion one can imagine. On the second floor, the stairs float in the middle of a large hallway. Directly in front of the top of the stairs is the master bedroom. Up slightly and to the left is the Adella and Arista’s room, up slightly and to the right is Aquata and Alana’s room. If one turns around, they will see Ariel’s room to their left and Attina and Andrina’s room to the right, as well as another set of stairs that leads upwards once more.

10. Attina and Andrina’s Room

The two eldest Triton girls’ room has been vacant for several years, though is often still used by either or both girls when they are home for holidays or other such events. In their youth, the room was haphazardly decorated on one side--with mostly pink decor; on the other side was a more tidy version--mostly decorated in orange. It has two desks, one for each girl, as well as a spacious closet that was shared (and the site of many battles.) Now, it is mostly barebones but vestiges of Andrina and Attina’s childhood and adolescence remain. Often, Alana commandeers the room as her own, or second room, nowadays.

11. Attina, Andrina, Adella, and Arista’s Restroom

The bathroom is shared between four sisters: Attina, Andrina, Adella, and Arista and was also a site of much contention. The counter was full of products and it was always a battle for getting ready in the morning, especially in the unfortunate years when all four girls were in secondary at the same time. Arista would always somehow manage to use someone else’s hairbrush and it was extremely obvious by the blonde hair left behind. The little racks and shelves are decorated with shells on the outside of them from when they used to go hunting the beach in Bournemouth for the prettiest shell. There’s jars full of them still somewhere in the house. It’s a lot less cluttered now that Arista and Adella mostly use it.

12. Adella and Arista’s Room

Adella’s side of the room is closest to the window. The head of her bed is pushed against the wall, and her nightstand table’s top drawer is where her hearing aids live while she sleeps. Her desk was never used for school work - she’d go elsewhere in the house for that - and instead houses her sewing machine. Her guitar is mounted on the wall when she isn’t using it, the guitar is decorated with political, ideological, and cute stickers. On the nightstand is a cute little touch to turn on lamp with seahorses on it. There are battery-pack powered strings of lights all over the room as decoration, hung neatly around any posters and other wall decor. The main light in the room is barely flicked on -its usually illuminated by the battery pack lights and the nightstand lamps, or natural light from the sun.

Arista’s side of the room is closest to the door because she doesn’t like thunderstorms and the changing weather always used to distract her when she was younger so her desk is next to her bed and turned to face away from the window. She has a rolling spinny chair that she’s frequently seen curled up in and writing on a notebook in her lap. Her desk is filled with sheet music and notebooks and binders full of all sorts of things that Tina helped her make so she could keep track of what music and manuals went with what instrument. She has cases of instruments and spare parts and shoe boxes under her bed from all the Christmases when she didn’t know what to tell people she wanted aside from shoes and cool instrument accessories. Typically Arista tries to keep all of the instruments in the music room because if she starts bringing them into their room, things get very cluttered very fast and it would stress Tina out and distract her from other things growing up so she just learned to keep most instruments in their designated room. (A keyboard or extra guitar still sometimes manages to find its way into their room every now and then though). Arista’s nightstands have several sets of earphones, headphones, earbuds, and a bowl of guitar picks on top of them so she can just grab one and go. On the nightstand is a pull chain lamp covered in shells. Much of Ris’ closet organization was Tina’s doing, it’s the only way the two girls managed to have closet space with her ever growing shoe collection and sentimental keepsakes stash (she doesn’t like throwing a lot of things away because they hold happy memories) in addition to their clothes. Her wall has both a dry erase board of “things she absolutely cannot forget about” for the week and a large cork board filled with all the showcases she’d played in, playbills from the productions she’d worked on, postcards of cities from tour, and photos of her sisters with her making the biggest smile imaginable.

13. Aquata and Alana’s Room

Alana and Aquata's room has light blue walls, a color chosen by Aquata before Ariel was born and neither knew that they'd share a room one day. Alana's side is closer to the window, since Aquata historically got up earlier and had to leave earlier. On Alana's end, there are boho tapestries,fairy lights, and strings of photos and scrapbook style bulletin boards. The bed has purple and turquoise sheets and is full of throw pillows. The desk opposite the bed used to have a pretty fancy video and computer setup (it's now with her in her flat) There's tons of candles and also just a lot of...stuff in general. Even though she doesn't live there anymore, it's not near clean. Clothes, makeup, half completed experiments litter the available surfaces. Aquata’s side is somewhat neater and sparser. She has a shelf full of swimming memorabilia (photos, trophies, medals, etc) above her bed and the rest of her sport memorabilia is on a smaller bookshelf at the foot of her bed. She also has a signed team photo framed at the head of her bed from her last meet at Pride U. Her bedspread is a steely blue color and over it she has a T-shirt quilt made out of old swim camp shirts that date back to primary school. Aquata doesn’t spend much time in her room, so it doesn’t look overly lived-in.

14. Aquata, Alana, and Ariel’s Restroom

It used to be a lot messier when Alana lived here, absolutely chaotic on her side with products and hair curlers and stuff that Aquata always had to yell at her to clean up. Sometimes the sink would be colored with whatever experiment Lana was working on. Ariel’s space is small considering the few beauty products she actually has. Shockingly, it's the most cleaned space she has designated to herself, but only because of her current lack of interest in makeup. Though a couple small pallets for events are stowed away in a drawer, they’ve hardly been put to good use. Really, it’s mostly just the essentials for her. Aquata’s space is mostly clean as well, with one trusty makeup set that she almost always uses (occasionally she’ll borrow something from Alana if it’s a special occasion). She does have an absolute mess of scrunchies, headbands, and hair ties in one of the drawers, and she usually leaves her Tiger Balm out on the counter.

15. Ariel’s Room

With Ariel being the only Triton sister with her own room, she takes full advantage of the space. She’s able to spread her things about (or leave clothes lying around when she’s in a rush), and not argue or worry about someone else’s space or an imaginary divider in the room. The room is decorated in an array of posters from bands she adores to the newest anime she’s binging with Finn and just had to have the poster for. She’s also a big fan of hanging Christmas lights haphazardly around her room and using that as a source of light instead of the actual ceiling lights in her room. When home, she spends most of her time here, so the bed is rarely ever made. Instead, the blankets are in the shape she left them, normally nest like, where she spends hours on her computer from watching drumming videos to just browsing odd forums late into the night. Of course, her trusty shark plush since childhood, Billy, is present on her bed at all times, holding down the fort when she’s gone.

16. Master Bedroom and Bathroom

The master bedroom is the largest bedroom in the Triton household. It is decorated in warm, muted colors. Much has not changed in the years after Athena’s death. Even some of her clothes are still in the closet, which Triton never had the heart to remove. It is only a few items: her favorite sunhat, a dress he had bought her for her birthday she wore all the time, her favorite pair of trainers, well-worn, stuff such as that, that was not removed to the attic.

17. Triton’s Study

A place of mostly mystery to the girls when young, Triton’s study is tucked away on the third floor, and is most often frequented by Triton on restless nights when he cannot sleep. Though, it is also used while he runs his business from home on occasion. The room is one of the more decadent of the house. The rest has a warm, inviting atmosphere, but the study is much more reserved. Decorated in deep blues and greens, it boasts lovely oak bookshelves, of which Triton is very fond. There is a large desk and even a deep brown leather couch, which Triton can often be found napping on before dinner.

18. Athena’s Studio

A room that has been untouched since the death of Athena, the studio was once a bright, lovely space where Athena spent much of her time that was not occupied by caring for her seven daughters or when she was not out volunteering in various charity positions. Athena was not as talented an artist as a musician, but she still enjoyed creating things. Athena’s studio was a charming crafting space, full of yarn, scrapbooking, canvases on easels, and other such projects. Some are still unfinished.

19. Guest Bedroom/Old Playroom

This room used to be where the girls had their playroom so that their parents could keep an eye on them while they were upstairs also. It has only been packed up and converted in the last ten years or so, after ARiel finally grew out of it mostly. Now, it’s just a nice guest space for when people are over.

20. Attic

The attic in the Triton household is less of a storage space and more of a tomb for Athena. After her death, all of her possessions were moved to this space, except for the jewelry, clothing, and knick-knacks which were distributed amongst her family and friends. There is also a large storage of photos from the girls’ childhood. While many litter the house, the extras and all of Athena’s scrapbooks were put away in the attic. The attic is seldom visited, except for when someone is searching for Christmas decorations, or the like.

#triton house #mersisters #mersisters stuff #inspiration #i have had this done for like TWO years #fuck me lmao #no time like the present i GUESS #shout out to everyone for contributing <3 #it's a little out dated bc obvi adella has left since but #oh well

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aeondeug · 3 years

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So Kentaro Miura died. This hurts a lot, honestly. The man’s work means a lot to me, because it’s helped me get through very tough times. And still does. Few things have ever hit me as hard or stayed with me as much as the end of the Conviction Arc. And I’ve seen some others come out and say similar over the years.

I have also seen plenty say that Berserk is nothing but grimdark misery, and some say that they understand the idea but feel the misery is in excess. Which I can understand. This is a comic with a character the fanbase calls Rape Horse, after all, and he is but one of many such horrors. The sex and gore are pumped up quite high in Berserk. And the circumstances people live in are atrocious and seemingly without any hope. It reaches a point where many ask “Is this necessary?” And when certain kinds of suffering, such as sexual assault, are just displayed in the open without metaphor many more ask “Is this necessary?”

Which is fair and I don’t blame anyone whose answer is “No, it is not.” Berserk can be a hard read. My answer to the question isn’t a “No” though it is a “Yes”. And the reason for why that is falls into two things both focused around what kind of story Berserk is: a story about The Struggler.

My life has been hard. It has sucked. That’s been a pretty recurring thing with the books and such that I talk about a lot here. Life has been cruel to me from the get go and it did not let up at all until I was 25. And even then It’s still hard. I can escape my family, but I can’t escape the system I live inside so easily. Nor can I escape that fact that I’ve been left with wounds that make me a frightened prickly pear of a person. Life has been hard. It has been defined by fighting and struggling.

So then we have Berserk. With its world that is just covered in monsters that run about rampantly and destroying shit. And it’s not just your typical fantasy violence either. It is excruciatingly detailed fantasy violence. There is blood and viscera everywhere. And it’s not just sudden deaths. Sometimes there aren’t even deaths. Sometimes people are just straight up tortured and we get to look at the aftermath of that. Even before the whole monster apocalypse thing there was nigh constant warring. This is not a happy world to be born in. It’s not a happy world to live in. And there’s just so much unhappiness, in such excess, so much of the time.

Which I think helps capture the feel of life for a person like me. I mentioned the Conviction Arc and how it’s gotten me through tough things. I have never lived through something like that. And while a good chunk of the horrors in it are things people have lived through and do live through, the whole monster apocalypse thing is not. And even before that aforementioned monster apocalypse thing, things suck really fucking hard. But the monster apocalypse thing is so much worse.

...and it’s just one thing that is but a blip on the road compared to Griffith. Mozgus is horrifying and strong, and he’s just fucking chump change compared to the actual end boss. Everyone almost dies, several people do die, and the entire situation is just so completely fucked. And that’s just ONE step in the road. A weird monster filled murder field generated by an egg is just ONE thing. But even that one step is filled with gore and misery and weirdness in excess. It’s filled with misery and terror in excess. It does not relent. Not until the festival is over.

That sort of fantastical pushing it to eleven thing is important. Because while I might have literally lived through the festival, I have lived through things that have felt like the festival. I’ve lived through things that I will confidently describe as being like Hell and I have felt fucking awful. So awful that really the one solace I had is that I lived at all. By cramming so much awful into such a tight space and keeping that awfulness density going for as long as he did, Miura managed to capture that feeling. And he presented something deeply important: the idea that you can survive. Perhaps you still have more work to go. Much more. But you lived and sometimes just living is enough.

This is the fantastical though. We now have to ask, “Ok but why the kinds of horrors in particular?” The use of rape in particular, even just the threat of it, in gets a lot of flak and I do understand why. That’s diving into very uncomfortable territory for a lot of people. And we are left to wonder if it’s strictly necessary.

For many it’s not. For many it’s the opposite of necessary. And what is necessary is not doing that and not even threatening it. This is fair. I will never begrudge someone not reading the comic because of this.

For me it is necessary, though. Because sexual abuse is a thing that exists. A thing that I’ve known about personally for a very, very long time. Every time I go through my life, I find new weird fucked up things to tack onto the list. I do not feel like talking about it in public beyond that I have a long, personal history with sexual abuse. And which I am still actively unpacking and likely will be for a very long time.

So like Rape Horse is horrifying. I kind of fucking hate him actually. He is legitimately one of the worst things I have ever seen. But he’s important. Farnese’s run in with him is important. Because, yes, he is a magical demon horse that talks and that’s fantastical. But what is happening is not fantastical. It is horrifyingly not so. It’s something that happens. And it’s just. There. On the one hand, it is obscured partly and made viewable by me by way of it being a magical demon horse. On the other hand, it is out in the open what is going to be done to Farnese.

And I can look at it. I can choose not to look at it. If I don’t want it there, it doesn’t have to be anymore. I can close the comic. It is only there if I want it to be and if I choose to look. And sometimes I do choose to look by reading the comic. Which is important. Because I get to choose at all.

And seeing it just in the open is important too. Because I get to process it. I get to face it as what it is. While also still having the comforting smokescreen that it is a magical demon horse that cannot actually exist and also that the very nice man with a big sword is going to fucking kill him. But I get to process an awful thing by seeing the awful thing in a safe space. Which I desperately need.

Berserk in general is just something I desperately need. I needed it years back even before I got to where I currently am. As the years go on and I work through recovery, I’m likely going to need it more and more. Because recovery’s fucking hard. It fucking sucks. Sometimes it feels even harder than the just surviving. Sometimes it feels inevitably doomed to failure. It’s hard and it’s a struggle.

But if Guts can go through the shit he has and still get up and still make friends then so can I. If he can keep struggling, then so can I. If he can make what progress he has, then I can make that and then some. And that’s what Berserk just is to me. This hopeful thing about life sucking so fucking much, but refusing to give up. This weird thing where the world can be so ugly, but also beautiful and tender. And those beautiful things are worth struggling for. Even if so much of the rest is just awful.

And I’m grateful that Miura could give me this thing. It wasn’t a gift meant for me in particular. It was a comic he wanted to make and he made it how he wanted to make it. But by getting it out there he gave it to me and all the others out there like me who need this sort of thing. He gave the branded and strugglers out there a story to cling to when they need. And that means the world.

Thank you, Miura-sensei.

#berserk #rape #tw: rape

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tomakethisworldabetterplace · 3 years

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푸른밤 : 140204/05 (2/3) : “thoughtful oppa”

■ jonghyun: tuesday corner, “thoughtful oppa”. in this corner i will search for answers together with lee ji hyun for everyone’s minor troubles to complicated and heavy troubles. the warm singer lee ji hyun, welcome here! i heard a lot from the writer noona that you’re really a handsome man, a won bin look alike and i was so curious.

■ lee ji hyung: oh i’m so sorry (for not meeting your expectations).

■ jonghyun: no, no. why are you sorry to me? no, no, i was so curious i went to look online and i found you really so handsome. since it’s a radio right now it’s even a pity that the listeners can’t see you. you’re really handsome.

[…]

listener asked about what kind of hat ji hyung was wearing then jonghyun commented on how neatly dressed ji hyung is.

■ lee ji hyung: to be honest i thought it was a viewable radio. (laughs)

■ jonghyun: ah, it’s a shame. if it was a viewable radio the listeners could’ve seen the handsome lee ji hyung’s face too. to be honest right now i forgot to read one script paper. i should’ve introduced lee ji hyung to the blue night family but i didn’t and i’m only asking you to introduce yourself right now.

■ lee ji hyung: it’s okay right now is a good time for introductions. hello, this is lee ji hyung. rather than saying hello to the listeners i want to congratulate the main person of blue night: jonghyun.

■ jonghyun: ah. thank you.

■ lee ji hyung: when i was outside (the studio) just now i got to tune in for a bit. you said that you were nervous but your voice sounded at ease. it’s like a cloud.

■ jonghyun: oh. a cloud. that’s a nice expression. a cloud and blue night do match well. the blue night’s cloud, the cloud floating in the night’s sky. ah, thank you for giving such a nice expression. how is it meeting me compared to how you perceived me, shinee’s jonghyun? is it different a lot?

■ lee ji hyung: to be honest when i used to see you in pictures or in tv appearances you had a really masculine appearance but seeing you right now your hand is pretty and it’s my first time seeing someone look so different than on tv. so pretty, woah. it’s really different than on tv.

■ jonghyun: it’s because i use make up heavily while appearing on tv. maybe that’s why i came off as manly. “your hand is pretty” and also “like a cloud”. i can already feel the thoughtfulness.

■ lee ji hyung: and also … you know how you’re right in front of me, right … i don’t know if it’s okay to say this.

■ jonghyun: please do!

■ lee ji hyung: your neck line and wrist are really so beautiful.

■ jonghyun: (laughs) ah, today we should’ve made it a viewable radio.

■ lee ji hyung: why did you have to show your arms?

■ jonghyun: since i’m nervous i’m hot and my hands keep sweating, that’s why.

■ lee ji hyung: but why am i nervous like this? (laughs)

[…]

a listener asked if lee ji hyung would be guesting every tuesday.

■ jonghyun: you will come every tuesday, right. (lee ji hyung starts trying to answer) i will … my wrist! i’ll show you my wrist again! if you come out on tuesday!

■ lee ji hyung: really? i have to come then! you’re really good at negotiating.

■ jonghyun: ah, thank you. you promised, right?

■ lee ji hyung: yes, alright!

[…]

(after “혹시 자리 비었나요” by soran) jonghyun: listening to the song, the lyrics feel like they’re connected to me and ji hyung-ssi. when somehow a delicate story evolves between people who meet each other for the first time.

[…]

after reading a listener’s message that said: “but you two seem like you’re both on a blind date right now”. lee ji hyung starts acting like they’re in one.

■ lee ji hyung: jonghyun-ssi, what kind of food do you like?

■ jonghyun: i like pasta.

■ lee ji hyung: what do you do on your free days?

■ jonghyun: i listen to music and watch movies.

■ lee ji hyung: oh, you’re exactly the same as me.

■ jonghyun: oh ji hyung-ssi is like that too? then what are you doing on this weekend?

[…]

listener sent in a message saying that lee ji hyung became first on portal searching rank.

■ lee ji hyung: whoa really just by one word from jonghyun.

■ jonghyun: no it’s because you’re really handsome, that’s why.

■ lee ji hyung: please keep complimenting me like that.

■ jonghyun: alright! your clothes are really so neat.

[…]

■ jonghyun: when doubts arise within myself, when i get thoughts like am i really doing well? are the things i’m doing right now correct? i like to life my own confidence by saying you’re doing great right now and you will do great in the future.

■ lee ji hyung: you just talked with a very soft and gentle voice but it all shows in your eyes.

■ jonghyun: how so.

■ lee ji hyung: i can see the strong confidence in your eyes in front of me.

■ jonghyun: are my eyes filled with confidence?

■ lee ji hyung: yeah that’s why it’s really comfortable talking to you right now.

■ jonghyun: ah. thank you i think it’s nice that we can talk comfortably.

■ lee ji hyung: although i’m nervous right now.

■ jonghyun: (giggles) no, no. you don’t look that nervous. i’m suddenly curious, whether you ever thought of another profession other than being a singer?

■ lee ji hyung: ah, for me i don’t have any profession i’d like to do instead of being a singer.

■ jonghyun: oh, you’re so cool.

■ lee ji hyung: it’s not that i had always dreamt of being a singer.

■ jonghyun: you didn’t dream of becoming one but you ended up being a singer?

■ lee ji hyung: it was a really fun profession when i started it and while doing it with every year with age it turned out like this.

■ jonghyun: then since it wasn’t originally your dream, what was your original one?

■ lee ji hyung: i had a lot of dreams. i had dreams of being an athlete in high school but because of my physical condition while the other kids grew taller …

■ jonghyun: because we’re sitting right now but … i’m also on the short size, height wise.

■ lee ji hyung: no the way i see it both of us are over 180cm.

■ jonghyun: oh, that’s right.

■ lee ji hyung: you’re 182cm, right?

■ jonghyun: oh, that’s correct! you’re 183cm, right? you look like you’re taller than me a bit.

■ lee ji hyung: 183cm and a half!

[…]

listener said: “i’m sorry but it really feels like tuning in to a blind date.”

■ lee ji hyung: so, this is a blind date?

■ jonghyun: because it’s our first time meeting.

■ lee ji hyung: we still didn’t set a second date after this.

■ jonghyun: i did it first though, saying earlier we’ll meet again next weekend to watch a movie.

■ lee ji hyung: jonghyun is really such a man.

■ jonghyun: (laughs) oh then! we’re both men.

[…]

ending of the “thoughtful oppa” with lee ji hyung corner.

■ lee ji hyung: before i came into the studio and heard that you were nervous i thought: ah, what to do i’m not someone who’s good at leading the discussion and creating the mood and had a worried heart but like i said earlier, looking into jonghyun’s eyes, i felt comfortable.

■ jonghyun: ah. thank you. it’s because ji hyung treated me so well that i feel like my confidence was lifted. you spoke so well and accepted my jokes so well. thank you!

■ lee ji hyung: i can accept your jokes well even more! i think it’ll be fine to be more comfortable with me.

■ jonghyun: i really like it, first of all i really like ji hyung’s voice and i think it’s really nice that i got to solve listeners’ problems with you. i hope we can do that again in the future.

■ lee ji hyung: just do one thing for me.

■ jonghyun: which thing?

■ lee ji hyung: don’t send me takes by mistake. i won’t let pass even if you apologize (referring to earlier talk).

■ jonghyun: okay. i will be careful when sending you messages.

(cr.) Tr. by BlueNight0525 on twitter

#blue night radio #blue night #jonghyun #kim jonghyun #shinee jonghyun #140204 #푸른밤

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super-famicom-star-inactive · 3 years

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Friday Special #9

January 30th, 2021

So I was digging through my bag of DS and GBA titles, and noted that one of them was a Game Boy Advance VIDEO cartridge that contained the first two episodes of Sonic X. Popped it into my DS to relive some nostalgia and it occurred to me that there isn’t anything like this anymore besides those PSP UMD VIDEO disks that had whole movies on them.

So where did they come from and how did they come to be?

For this week’s Friday Special, we’re gonna find out.

For a little backstory, the Game Boy Advance handheld console was released back in 2001 and it was marketed as the successor of the Game Boy Color. With its resolution of 240 x 160 pixels (which was a lot at the time), 15-bit RGB Color Support (it was capable of producing 512 colors in character mode and 32,768 simultaneous colors in bitmap mode), and Dual 8-bit DAC for stereo sound, it was a fascinating machine and a work of technical art. It was super successful world-wide and garnered millions in sales.

So what exactly were the Game Boy Advance Video titles?

The Game Boy Advance Video cartridges were a special class of cartridges where based on the amount of memory, it featured one to four episodes of popular shows of the time like those from Cartoon Network and Nicktoons.

Here is the complete list of games:

GBA Video Movie Pak vol. 1

Shrek

GBA Video Movie Pak vol. 2

Shrek 2

GBA Video Movie Pak vol. 3

Shark Tale

GBA Video Movie Pak 2-Movies-In-1!

Shrek

Shark Tale

GBA Video Movie Pak 2-Movies-In-1! Vol. 2

Shrek

Shrek 2

The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron vol. 1

"Brobot"

"The Big Pinch"

"Granny Baby"

"Time is Money"

All Grown Up! vol. 1

"Susie Sings the Blues"

"Coup de Ville"

Cartoon Network Collection vol. 1

Ed, Edd 'n Eddy: "Stop, Look and Ed"

Courage the Cowardly Dog: "Magic Tree of Nowhere"

Johnny Bravo: "The Perfect Gift"

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy: "Crawling Niceness"

Cartoon Network Collection vol. 2

Codename: Kids Next Door: "Operation T.U.R.N.I.P."

Courage the Cowardly Dog: "Courage the Fly"

Johnny Bravo: "Balloon Platoon"

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy: "Mandy the Merciless"

Cartoon Network Collection Limited Edition

Ed, Edd 'n Eddy: "Key to My Ed"

Courage the Cowardly Dog: "The Queen of the Black Puddle"

Codename: Kids Next Door: "Operation M.I.N.I.G.O.L.F."

Dexter's Laboratory: "Big Sister"

Cartoon Network Collection Platinum Edition

Codename: Kids Next Door: "Operation T.O.M.M.Y."

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy: "A Grim Surprise"

Courage the Cowardly Dog: "Cowboy Courage"

Ed, Edd 'n Eddy: "The Luck of the Ed"

Cartoon Network Collection Premium Edition

Dexter's Laboratory: "Double Trouble"

Courage the Cowardly Dog: "The Shadow of Courage"

Johnny Bravo: "Cookie Crisis"

Ed, Edd 'n Eddy: "A Glass of Warm Ed"

Cartoon Network Collection Special Edition

Ed, Edd 'n Eddy: "Oath to an Ed"

Johnny Bravo: "Beach Blanket Bravo"

The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy: "Billy and the Bully"

Dexter's Laboratory: "Dexter's Rival"

Codename: Kids Next Door vol. 1

"Operation R.E.P.O.R.T."

"Operation N.O.-P.O.W.U.H."

"Operation B.R.I.E.F."

"Operation D.O.G.F.I.G.H.T."

Disney Channel Collection vol. 1

Lilo & Stitch: "Slushy"

Kim Possible: "Ron the Man"

Disney Channel Collection vol. 2

Lilo & Stitch: "Poxy"

Kim Possible: "Rufus in Show"

Brandy & Mr. Whiskers: "To The Moon Mr. Whiskers"

Dora the Explorer vol. 1

"3 Little Piggies"

"The Big River"

Dragon Ball GT vol. 1

"A Grand Problem"

"Pan's Gambit"

The Fairly OddParents vol. 1

"Foul Balled"

"The Boy Who Would Be Queen"

"The Information Stupor Highway"

The Fairly OddParents vol. 2

"Father Time"

"Apartnership"

"Ruled Out"

"That's Life"

Nicktoons Collection vol. 1

SpongeBob SquarePants: "Pizza Delivery"

The Fairly OddParents: "The Big Problem"

All Grown Up!: "Chuckie's In Love"

Nicktoons Collection vol. 2

SpongeBob SquarePants: "Nature Pants"

SpongeBob SquarePants: "Opposite Day"

Rocket Power: "The Big Air Dare"

The Fairly OddParents: "Odd Ball"

Nicktoons Collection vol. 3

SpongeBob SquarePants: "Squeaky Boots"

The Fairly OddParents: "Tim Visible"

Danny Phantom: "Attack of the Killer Garage Sale"

Pokémon vol. 1

"For Ho Oh The Bells Toll"

"A Hot Water Battle"

Pokémon vol. 2

"Playing with Fire"

"Johto Photo Finish"

Pokémon vol. 3

"Pokémon, I Choose You!"

"Here Comes the Squirtle Squad"

Pokémon vol. 4

"Beach Blank-Out Blastoise"

"Go West Young Meowth"

The Proud Family vol. 1

"Twins to Teens"

"Tween Town"

Sonic X vol. 1

"Chaos Control Freaks"

"Sonic to the Rescue"

SpongeBob SquarePants vol. 1

"Bubblestand"

"Ripped Pants"

"Jellyfishing"

"Plankton"

SpongeBob SquarePants vol. 2

"Mermaidman & Barnacleboy"

"Pickles"

"Hall Monitor"

"Jellyfish Jam"

SpongeBob SquarePants vol. 3

"Walking Small"

"Texas"

"Hooky"

"Mermaidman & Barnacleboy II"

Strawberry Shortcake vol. 1

"Meet Strawberry Shortcake"

"Spring for Strawberry Shortcake"

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! vol. 1

"Depths of Fear"

"Planetoid Q"

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vol. 1

"Things Change"

"A Better Mousetrap"

Yu-Gi-Oh! vol. 1

"Friends Until the End Part 3"

"Friends Until the End Part 4"

Although the first of the GamePaks (the other name that they went by) started to appear in 2004, the original name was GBA-TV a year earlier. The first cartridges to be released in May of 2004 were when Majesco was able to acquire rights for 4Kids properties such as Sonic X and Yu-Gi-Oh! for the earliest released titles. Later in June, select shows from Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, Nick Jr., and Funimation were added to the line-up when Majesco acquired the rights. The Disney Channel soon was added as well late in November of that year, creating even more cartridges for the roster. That next November in 2005 was the time for when Majesco was able to acquire the rights for Shrek, Shrek 2, and Shark Tale from Dreamworks, where for the first time, the Game Boy Advance Video series would now feature full-length movies, which was a marvel at the time due to the Game Boy Advance’s limited memory.

In total, 36 cartridges were made in the entire line-up with more slated for released but were cancelled for various reasons, whether they be because of low sales of previous cartridges or copyright issues.

Here is the complete list of cancelled games:

Drake & Josh vol. 1

"Pilot"

"Dune Buggy"

Even Stevens vol. 1

"Swap.com"

"Stevens Genes"

Kirby: Right Back at Ya!

Ugly Betty vol. 1

"Pilot

"The Box and the Bunny

Sonic X vol. 2

"Missile Wrist Rampage"

"Chaos Emerald Chaos"

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vol. 2

Yu-Gi-Oh! vol. 2

Speaking of copyright, there is a reason that the GamePaks were only viewable on Game Boy Advance systems as well as the first two DS systems but not the GameCube's Game Boy Player accessory. It was because the owners asked Majesco to make it so that making the games incompatible with the GameCube’s GBA Player would protect their properties from getting ripped onto VHS tapes and DVDs, which was what the Player was capable of doing. It would not have mattered however, because the low quality would have shown on the TV, making the ripping process useless.

The low quality of the cartridges were due to the heavy compression of files in order for them to fit on a GBA cartridge, causing noticeable artifacts on the screen, even more visibly on a later system like a DS console. The low quality was the biggest disadvantage for the Game Boy Video cartridges as they eventually became obsolete by the late 2000s/ early 2010s when the DSi was released with no backward capabilities.

Despite them being obsolete by today’s standards, they can still be found online on shopping sites like eBay and depending on the condition can go for a pretty penny. The rarest one in the entire roster is the cartridge for Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! vol. 1 as only a limited number of copies were made and are now so rare that they can fetch almost $200 on eBay, where that is the only shopping site to even have them for listings.

It should be mentioned that around the same time, Sony was releasing PSP UMD (Universal Media Disc) Video disks for their PSP systems that were capable of playing whole movies, but that’s an article for another time.

Thoughts From the Head

As stated above, I actually do have one of the Game Boy Advance Video cartridges in the form of Sonic X Vol. 1 that I had bought years ago at a local video game store. It still works, and although you can definitely see the age on a DS screen, it’s still super impressive how much they had to compress in order for the data to fit.

It’s still a really neat piece of history and it’s something that would’ve never happened in today’s age of gaming with everyone being as tight-lipped about copyright to the point of it being detrimental to creativity. That being said, if you have a GBA, its succeeding systems or the first two DS systems, I’d say to track them down while you can, especially if your favorite show is on the list (unfortunately, I have no hope of getting the Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! vol. 1 cartridge as that is like trying to find an ant in a haystack but I have the Sonic X one and that’s good enough for me).

Here’s some photos of mine!

So do y’all think about all of this? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Thank you for reading!

#my voice!#retro gaming #gaming #irl #game boy advance #history #Friday Special

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 13th, 1999

Emile sat in his bedroom, staring at the lighter in his trembling hands. All he needed to do was flick it on, and decide where on his arm he’d leave the first mark. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was wrong. But everything else was going wrong, why couldn’t he show that through his own pain?

People said that it was selfish to commit suicide. Emile disagreed. His friends who had killed themselves, they weren’t selfish, they were desperate. They couldn’t see any way out so they made their own way. And it hurt Emile more than words could ever say. But maybe...maybe the lighter could say it for him. He flicked the flame on, and shakily put his arm over the fire, closer...closer...

Not close enough. In an instant, the lighter was snatched from his hands and he jumped as he realized his mom was there, staring at him. “Emile, what do you think you’re doing?!” she asked. “Don’t you know you can get seriously hurt doing that?”

He looked up in shock. He spoke without thinking. “That was kind of the idea.”

His mother shook her head. “Downstairs,” she said. “Now. We’re finding you a therapist.”

August 8th, 2001

Emile fell back into the car with a sigh. It was done. He had just donated to the sperm bank, and he never had to think about how embarrassed he felt making his donation ever again.

Well, he’d never have to think about it after Remy’s obligatory teasing. There was always the obligatory teasing to consider, at least when it came to things near and dear to Emile’s heart. Usually it wasn’t done with malice, and if Remy crossed a line nowadays he’d apologize. Emile still wondered, though, why exactly Remy always teased Emile about the things Emile really cared about.

He drove to Starbucks, where Remy was working for another hour or so. He had some time, and a little extra change in his pocket, so he figured he may as well go for a coffee. When he walked in, though, Remy must have been in the back, because there was a woman Emile didn’t recognize at the register. She flashed him a smile as he walked up, but Emile felt slightly unnerved by it for reasons he couldn’t explain. “Hi there! How may I help you?” she asked.

“Hi. Uh...tall Earl Grey tea would be lovely, thanks,” Emile said.

“Sure thing, cutie!” the woman said. “Can I get a name for the order?”

“Emile.”

“Oh! Are you Remy’s friend?” the woman asked. “He talks about an Emile he shares an apartment with all the time.”

“That’s me,” Emile said with a smile. “I have some free time so I figured I’d relax here before I pick him up, you know?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah, he said the two of you only have your car to get around. Say, you free Friday night?”

A beat. That was a sudden change in conversation. “Uh...sorry, I’ve got plans,” Emile managed. “My boyfriend and I are hanging out.”

The woman tsked. “Shame, you’re too cute to be gay,” she said. Emile wisely didn’t correct her about being bisexual. “I’ll get you your order, cutie.”

Emile nodded and took up a table by the window, watching the people outside walk by. So many people with different lives, different stories. He was just one college kid in an entire world full of people with unique perspectives on this planet. He was just a background character in most people’s stories, and it hurt his head to think about sometimes. That he might have unwittingly appeared in someone else’s dream and he would never know because that person could have just passed him on the street one day and never saw him again.

There was a call of “Order for Emile!” from the counter and Emile smiled, walking over to Remy to grab his order. He may have been a side character in most people’s stories, but he was glad he was a main character in Remy’s.

“Still get off in an hour?” Emile asked Remy.

“Yep,” Remy confirmed. “Planning on hanging out here until then?”

“Pretty much,” Emile agreed. “You know where to find me when your shift’s over.”

Remy nodded and Emile went back to his seat, sipping his tea. He didn’t have much to do for an hour, so he just sat and continued his people watching until, with a world-weary sigh, Remy collapsed in the chair opposite him. “Shift’s over,” Remy breathed. “And Jane was very disappointed about your mystery boyfriend.”

Emile laughed. “Ouch, yeah. I hate when people try and hit on me, especially when I can’t say you’re my boyfriend without risking you getting fired.”

Remy sighed and nodded. “Jane’s a bit much at all times. She’ll flirt with just about any guy over the age of eighteen. She’ll flirt with me, sometimes, even though I’ve made it clear to her that I won’t date a coworker. She doesn’t have to know it’s because I’m already taken.”

Emile laughed and finished his tea. “I don’t suppose she’s the most accepting person on the planet.”

“Definitely not,” Remy agreed.

They both stood and walked out of the shop, Emile yawning. “Man, I’m tired, and I didn’t even have a shift today.”

“Yeah, but you did have a date with the sperm bank,” Remy teased, nudging Emile’s shoulder with his own. “How did that go?”

“Without a hitch, believe it or not,” Emile said. “No people accidentally walking in or knocking on my door, no awkward conversations with any of the women in the waiting room, nothing. It was an in-and-out thing.”

“That’s good,” Remy said. “Of course, this is you we’re talking about. I doubt anything in your life could go badly.”

Emile coughed out an awkward laugh. How was he supposed to respond to that? “I’ve had things go wrong on me before, believe it or not,” he managed to say.

“Yeah, but you’ve got it pretty easy,” Remy said.

They got in Emile’s car and Emile chewed on his words. “I wouldn’t say I have it easy, per se,” he said. In his mind’s eye, he was thinking about his high school years. All the tears, the pain, the anger, the therapy appointments and the shock on his parents’ face when he...no. That was enough of that. He didn’t have to go down that road. Just focus on driving. “My life’s gotten better over the past few years, but it wasn’t easy to get this far.”

“Emile, no offence, but I sincerely doubt that you could ever have a serious problem. Your friends, maybe. I know you said you lost a couple of them, and almost lost a few more, but...if that’s the worst that happened, then I would argue it wasn’t that bad. It affected you personally, but it didn’t traumatize you,” Remy said.

“You don’t know that for certain,” Emile muttered under his breath.

“What?” Remy asked.

Emile sighed. “Nothing,” he said. “Just saying that you’re jumping to conclusions a bit early.”

“Well, come on, you’re still here without a scratch on you, I’d hardly say that it was that bad if you’re here without a scratch on you,” Remy said.

“Not all scratches and scars are easily viewable,” Emile said. “My life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, Rem. Never has been, never will be, and it certainly isn’t right now.”

“How bad can it be, though, really?” Remy asked.

Emile forced himself to relax as he parked the car in their parking lot and walked inside. “It can be pretty bad, Rem. My friends...my friends had problems. Problems that I had to help with. And it hurt me to help them, sometimes, and it hurts to look back on them now.”

Remy scoffed, and Emile felt himself twitch. He had gotten used to Remy being a little softer around most subjects, and had forgotten how stubborn he could be when it came to anything surrounding trauma. “Rem, I’m serious. It hurt. It was bad.”

“How can anything in your life be bad?!” Remy asked incredulously. “You’re practically perfect in every sense of the word! You never even look sad! How could anything that happened to you leave such bad scars that you can’t even stand to look at them now? Huh? What was so unspeakably bad that you can’t bear to think about it? Friends come and go, Emile, that’s just a fact of life! People get hurt sometimes, and it’s not the end of the world, it’s not even bad most of the time! It’s the emotional equivalent of a scraped knee!”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through!” Emile exclaimed, voice cracking. “You don’t get to decide what was and wasn’t bad for me!”

“Oh, right, because you could ever have it bad! Ever!” Remy snapped. “Your life is so miserable because you had some people you cared about and they’re not around anymore! It happens! My family tried to kill me, Emile! I don’t think you can top that!”

“I’m not trying to top it!” Emile exclaimed. “But I’ve had friends die on me, friends try to kill themselves and cut off all contact with me! I’ve had to hear my grandfather go on about how he hates people like me, without him ever knowing that it’s me he’s talking about! I’ve been dismissed, I’ve been belittled, I’ve been picked on for being smart and picked on for being dumb! I never felt like I fit in anywhere except with a select few friends, and even then I was the odd one out in most cases! And maybe my parents didn’t try to fucking kill me, but the rest of the world certainly did!

“You think I magically made it through my high school years unscathed, with friends killing themselves and self-harming and unloading on me because I was the only one they trusted? Do you know how many times I stared at razors, and lighters, wondering what it would feel like if I could just feel pain for a brief second, and let it show? I wanted that pain so bad, Remy, I wanted the scars because then people would know I wasn’t okay, and things weren’t perfect the way you claim they were! I was lucky; the first time I was going to try my mother found me and stopped me! And my parents helped me get therapy because I’m not fucking perfect, and I can’t handle everything on my own! And at least I have the stones to admit it! I don’t keep everything to myself until I physically can’t anymore and break down into a useless heap!”

Remy turned red. “So, what, by not admitting to everyone that I feel bad sometimes I’m automatically useless? I’m automatically unhealthy and in need of help because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Emile snapped.

“Well that’s what I’m hearing!” Remy exclaimed. “You can’t possibly tell me anything that would be worse than what I’ve been through!”

“I’m not playing the misery Olympics, I just wanted acknowledgement that sometimes life sucks!” Emile exclaimed. “I wanted to lean on you for a minute, because I thought that we understood we’d both do that for each other!”

“Whatever!” Remy crossed his arms and turned away. “You’re making this out to be way worse a situation than it is, Emile! You’re exaggerating! This isn’t a situation any competent adult would need help with!”

Emile reeled back like he had been slapped. He may as well have been, with what Remy just said. “You genuinely think...you actually think that I’m incompetent?” Emile asked softly. “You think that I can’t handle myself? That I’m just an idiot who’s going to get hurt the second you leave me alone?”

“You don’t?” Remy asked.

Emile’s hands balled into fists. “Fuck you, Remy.” Emile’s voice was filled with pent-up fury, but he couldn’t reign it in even if he wanted to. “If you think I’m that stupid, why even stay with me? Am I just your emotional punching bag? The person you go to when you can’t vent to anyone else? I’m just supposed to stand here and take the hit without expecting anything in return?!” Emile’s breath was ragged, and he laughed, a choked sound that resembled someone being strangled. “Well, that’s just perfect, isn’t it? Here I thought you actually cared about me, when in fact you were just using me. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.” Emile smacked his fists against his skull. “What I wouldn’t do for a little pain right now.” Smack. “After all, maybe then you’d understand I’m hurting, right?!” Smack. Smack. “Maybe then you’d understand that you don’t need to be traumatized to struggle with your mental health!” Smack. Smack. Smack.

Remy was staring at him, a silent, startled gaze looking Emile over.

“Forget it,” Emile said, a few tears finally starting to fall.

“Emile...” Remy reached a hand out, but Emile backed away.

“Just forget it,” Emile said. “I’ll help with my half of the rent, but I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t have to be boyfriends, since I’m clearly just a pity case.”

And before either of them could say anything more, Emile hid in his room for the rest of the day.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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inkyvendingmachine · 4 years

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Can you write a joey x henry fanfiction?

spoiler alert, i was actually working on one since before you sent me this, and then just... sat on this ask until I finished it. I guess. anyways, have some joey/henry but warning I only write fanfics that go in weird directions that you probably weren't looking for. [This Isn’t Dreamland, 2408 words][Probably PG13][Ao3]

Technically Adults but still not living adult lives, Joey takes Henry on one more youthful trip, heading out to Coney Island for a hot summer's day of enjoyment.

It was one of those rare weekends in the middle of the summer, when the air is moving just enough to cool you down but the sun still reminds you what month you're in. Standing without shade wasn't going to sweat your clothes off, but jumping into the water at a beach wouldn't be too cold either.

A spry older teenage boy grabbed onto the bottom of the brand new fire escape that crawled up the side of an older brick apartment building of New York City, slipping up three flights before finding the window he was going to knock on had already been left open a crack. Of course, with the wind blowing like it was, airing out the room was an obvious course of action, but somehow he felt it was simply left open for him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the bottom and yanked it the rest of the way up, before climbing in just enough to sit on the still, feet dangling.

"You're here rather early," a boy of likewise age hummed from across the room, sitting at a desk that appeared to be the most expensive piece of furniture viewable.

"No Henry, I'm right on time. Got any plans for today?" His feet did a few small silent kicks of excitement as he asked. Henry gave his desk a glance, before shrugging.

"Nothing as big as whatever you have in mind. Are you going to tell me about this adventure first at least?" The other teen just smiled, an answer shown in the glint of his eyes. Henry sighed and got up from his desk, pulling off his night shirt as he cracked open the room door just enough to yell into the living area. "Hey mom, do you need anything or can I go hang with Joey today?"

"You know you don't need to ask me anymore," she called back, "But don't you two dare climb down the fire escape again!" They both laughed as Henry kicked the door closed and continued changing out of his pajamas, getting ready for the day as Joey happily watched and chattered from the window sill.

-----

The streetcar was hot and crowded and loud as most of the riders were also on their way for a wild day or weekend of fun. Joey and Henry, both being courteous and young, found themselves standing squished towards the back, both holding onto a pole to keep from toppling into each other on every bump.

“We’re lucky my mom gave me some money on the way out, I don’t think I could afford to go to Coney Island otherwise,” Henry chuckled, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against the bus seat for more stability without impeding on anyone's space.

Joey, on the other hand, seemed a little more alright with just being pushed around with the rest of the bus. “You say like I didn’t plan all of this through! I’ve been saving up for quite a while, you know.” “You’ve been saving up? Were you planning on bringing someone else and she rejected you?” Henry laughed, casually putting his arm around Joey’s shoulders to help him stabilize after being shoved around once more by the rough rails.

“Henry,” Joey started with a slight laugh to a wavering tone, and then repeated with a new shot of confidence, “Henry! You’re my best friend! There’s nobody I’d rather spend a day baking in the sun with.” He let go of the pole and tossed his arm around behind his friend, clasping him on the back, feeling the heavier muscles on Henry’s shoulders and being reminded of the amount of manual labor he tended to help out with around his home, with his family.

“And we’re not going to be young forever. We need to take advantage of these days! Before we get distracted with planning out the rest of our lives.” The trolly hit another bump, a man in a suit in front of the two lost his balance slightly but remained standing thanks to the grab bar overhead, but it was enough to jostle the boys into holding each other a little closer to keep their own footing. Joey swallowed, his arm now dropped around Henry’s waist only to grab onto the pole again that was right next to him, looking out the window to see the horizon crowded with amusement park attractions. He was both glad and upset that they were soon to be arriving.

There were a few interesting things to note about this park. For one, it was the cheapest in the area. Two, Joey and Henry were both young enough to not be held to the same expectations as the older crowd that visited. Three, it was advertised as a family friendly park, which was a good enough excuse to turn a blind eye to anything. Thanks to a combination of all these qualities, there was hardly an inquiry made as Joey slipped onto the same riding horse as Henry, putting his arms around his friend and holding onto the handles up front. None of the other guys waiting in line had an issue with this as that meant more ladies for them to hug, and none of the girls had a problem due to Henry and Joey both looking rather small, and thus, not good racing material. Joey pressed himself a little closer to Henry as the regular jockey announcements started up.

Could he actually pull this off? “Ready?”

“Funny thing, Joey,” Henry mumbled, wearing a wide grin, “I have just discovered that I am perhaps… a little terrified of heights.”

“Oh, oh no, it’s too late for that now. Hold on tight,” Joey barely managed to say with an unseen wink, before the gates opened and the gravity powered rides were launched down the track. As all of the other horses eventually all flew past them, and Henry leaned back into him, the taller man was left thinking how 8th place was the best, since it meant they had the most time on this ride… but a slightly sour note remained as he watched the couples help each other off, knowing what he’d never had.

“How about that giant slide next?” Henry laughed, using Joey’s arms to help him get off the ride, legs shaky for just a moment but face clearly showing his enjoyment of such an experience. His bet had somehow paid off, and Henry was interested in it all… Joey’s distant look immediately turned into his classic, charming grin before they raced off to the tower across the way.

Even if he’d never have what all the other couples here had, at least he’d have this day.

A giant dark slide, where at the bottom Joey fell into Henry’s lap, and the two scrambled to get out of the way before the next couple slammed into them. A tightrope walk where they shared a hand grip did finally conquer Henry’s fear and he slipped to fall on the padding below, and somehow Joey followed soon after, rolling into him. A long slide where Henry and Joey shared a single sack due to the overwhelming lines as the day started to really take hold; the first ride Joey had been nervous about again, as he had to wrap both his arms and legs around Henry in order to not fly off the back.

As the midday heat washed over them, they stopped for a quick bite to eat out of one of the rolling stalls before heading towards the Pavilion of Fun to get some shade. Instead of going through the normal sets of doors, the two attempted the challenge of walking through the spinning tunnel, getting their feet easily tangled with each other and having to scramble out at half height for fear of toppling over as soon as either of them stood up. The smaller rides within were easily chewed through by the two, until the human roulette was spotted.

For two guys who were well enough built, but also artists who had never touched a sports class if they could, it wasn’t predicted how intense they would get at being competitive over this ride. The first round Henry managed to hold on longer, and Joey got to help him up when he finally tumbled out. The second round Joey climbed over people to get a better seat and easily won. A third round was declared, to decide a winner, to which Joey already knew he was too exhausted to win. So, instead of holding onto the ride, as the turntable started spinning Joey quickly switched his grip to hold onto Henry instead. If he was going down, they both were. It wasn’t long at all before the two were flung into one of the foam walls, and Joey found Henry kneeling over him.

Of course, if he had yanked Henry along with him, he’d end up with Henry on top of him. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d missed this calculation, and while his heart was screaming with joy, and his face was slowly heating with how close Henry’s face was, and the pit in his stomach turned into a boulder. All he wanted to do was reach up and kiss the man he had been in love for the last year… and he was being stabbed by a hundred prying eyes, and still being rotated on a ride he’s about to be either evicted from or crashed into by another person and… not dumb enough to ruin his best friendship with something as trivial as feelings.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet for a while,” Henry asked, as he handed off a hotdog to Joey, who had been silent since getting out of the ‘Pavilion of Fun.’ Joey gave a smirk and a shrug, not taking the hot dog offered but the other in Henry’s hand and immediately having a bite. Henry just gave a soft chuckle and leaned up against the railing next to him. “You never really explained why we came out here today, you know? How long had you been saving up for this?”

“A few days actually.” This got Joey a knowing elbow into the side. “Alright, a few hours, I actually grabbed your piggy bank on the way out.” Another elbow, and the two of them laughed.

“Well, thank you. This has been the most fun I’ve had in awhile,” Henry said, giving Joey a smile before going back to finishing off his hot dog.

The other man also polished off his, not speaking until after he crumpled up the paper and made a decent shot into a trashcan not that far off. “Once we start working, once we start… having a life, families, whatever adults do, we’re not gonna have time for things like this. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking ‘I never went to Coney Island’ while staring out some crummy office window.” He looked out over the slow setting sun. “... didn’t want my best friend to go through that either.”

“Honestly, I never even thought about Coney Island until today,” Henry replied, walking over to the trash can, not trusting his terrible aim to keep him from accidentally littering into the ocean. “But you’re right, it sure would have been a thing I’d regret years later.”

Joey nodded, staring down Henry’s profile as he talked. They’d spent a whole day together, practically doing things only couples did, and yet Henry hadn’t… said anything. Everything was completely normal. Nothing had changed, not even questioning Joey’s motives. What if he did kiss him, what then? Just get this over with, end the friendship now.

“... that being said,” Henry turned around, clapping his arm across Joey’s shoulders and pulling him into a side hug, causing the other to fluster at the sudden closeness, “If everything goes as planned, we won’t be looking out any crummy office windows. And there’s nobody I’d rather spend the rest of my life standing beside than Joey Drew.”

This did cause Joey to burst out a laugh, breaking him from his stunned, red faced silence. “You’ve been reading my notes behind my back!”

“You go through my sketchbooks all the time, don’t play innocent.” They easily found themselves shoving back and forth in both snide comments and actual playful pushes, sprinkled with laughter between them. A true Boys Will Be Boys moment, one that Joey got delightfully lost in until the lights flickered on alongside the docks and Henry brought up how they should head on home before it gets too late.

That’s right, all good things must come to an end. But… just a little bit longer, he wanted to hold on to this moment, Henry close to him, practically in his arms, for a little bit longer.

“... Wheel.” “What?”

“Wheel,” Joey repeated, pointing a few piers over to where a giant, light clad wheel slowly turned.

“... it’s really tall.”

“I’ll hold you if you’re that scared.”

Henry laughed. “Fine fine, I will suffer one last contraption, just for you.”

They started walking towards the ride, and Joey found himself lost in his thoughts again. Somehow. Maybe… maybe this would all be alright actually. Maybe he could just… continue living like this, next to Henry, and everything will be alright as long as they continue having days like these.

“Last? What if… we do come back next year?” Joey cracked a slight smile remembering the conversation they already had, but also continued looking at Henry expectantly.

“Are you paying again?” He hummed, raising an eyebrow at the other.

“Hell, I’ll pay for a trip every year, as long as you’re still letting me hang around. Best friends only, just you, me, thrilling machines and crappy hot dogs. I promise.”

Henry tapped on his chin, almost like a cartoon who really had to think this one out.

“Well, you’ve never left me with the check before, so I don’t see why I actually have to agree when I can always count on it either way.” Joey made a face. “... but yeah, promise. Next year, I'm already looking forward to it.”

-------

“To enquiring friends: I have troubles today that I had not yesterday. I had troubles yesterday which I have not today.”

Words from a sign posted on the burning grounds of the very same park they visited the year before, which would unknowingly continue to be an omen for years to come.

#Joey Drew #Henry Stein #batim #bendy and the ink machine #creator shipping #kiinnndaaa #i havent written fic in years you've been warned #also technically #Escape AU #we'll get to that don't worry #there will be a part two #someday #have your pitch fee ready #whatever my fanfic tag is gonna be haha #mariagirlwolfy

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