#but there's nothing that suggests she remained a loving parent afterwards

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

#asks #she could easily be interpreted as distant or neglectful after Donato's death too #with how little involvement she has in Marcille's life/the fact that Marcille doesn't even mention her when talking about her life prospect #and that's fair! I will argue to hell and back that she was a loving parent when Donato was alive #but there's nothing that suggests she remained a loving parent afterwards #I just think that like... parental relationships are so complicated in dungeon meshi #you cannot deny that the toudens' mother loved them dearly but that she failed them both miserably as a parent #and i think it'd be more compelling if Marcille's mother was a little like that too #not a totally and easily dismissable deadbeat #but someone who truly loves her daughter but was only human herself and couldn't be what Marcille needed at a crucial moment #and regrets it deeply #and that the distance between them is mutually self-imposed by complicated feelings of guilt and fear #and a little resentment from Marcille's side that she hasn't really properly processed #I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it but i had this idea where Marcille does finally spill the beans to her mom and she just #immediately arrives in Melini #and its awkward for a bit but they do finally have a heart to heart and air it all out #and marcille starts freaking out that her marriage is rocky rn bc her new husband wants her to distance herself from marcille #on account of the crimes and all #marcille's like no you can't blow up your marriage for me and her mother just shuts that shit down #'you didn't choose to be born. i was the one who made that choice for you' #'i brought you into this world and i'll be damned if i don't take responsibility for that the entire way' #'you are entitled to *nothing less* than my unconditional love.' #and obviously that's not a sentiment that's exactly healthy as a universal statement about parenthood #but i think its what her mother would believe and what marcille needs to hear #and dungeon meshi does such a fantastic job at just... letting imperfect things just *be* without having to justify it immediately #it expects the audience to do their own critical thinking #and know that its not trying to make sweeping universal statements in every instance #marcilleposting #marcille donato

[those70scomics]

Jay Kelso could’ve easily been Kelso and Brooke’s child, especially with how Kelso describes him in “That ‘90s Pilot”. Nothing about Jay’s characterization suggests Jackie as his mother. He’s all Michael Kelso but with, say, Brooke’s sense of responsibility buried deep inside (that his feelings for Leia bring to the surface) and a love for nature (Jackie hated nature, and Kelso was indifferent to it -- except to blow it up with fireworks).

I’m not going to write a That ‘90s Show fanfic that makes it fit with That ‘70s Show canon, but I did think about how I might write one. Jay is Brooke’s son, not Jackie’s, and Red/Kitty know who he is.

Jackie and Hyde arrive from Milwaukee with their own kid -- just as Eric and Donna are leaving Leia with the Formans. So Hyde and Jackie see Eric and Donna about to get into their car.

Jackie and Hyde enter the Formans’ home with their kid, who is gay and out to their parents ... but no one else, despite Jackie and Hyde’s encouragement and putting them in a progressive private high school with a gay-straight alliance, multicultural club, openly gay teachers, etc. (Yes, this kind of school existed in the ‘90s.)

Kitty’s reaction to Hyde is similar to her reaction to Eric. Red actually hugs Hyde, which Leia witnesses (this will be important later).

Jackie and Hyde need to drop their kid off at the Formans’ for the summer because their careers are making them go from state-to-state (an unfortunate coincidence; usually if they have to travel for work, they make sure one parent is home for their kid). Not a good situation for their kid, whom they want stability for the next two months.

Leia and Jackie/Hyde’s kids are like cousins -- because she grew up knowing Hyde and Jackie as their aunt and uncle.

Hyde and Jackie, thanks to Eric and Donna, know the basics of why Leia’s staying with Red and Kitty. Hyde and Jackie, separately ask her why her life in Chicago isn’t awesome. We actually get into the depth of her feelings. Real emotional connection. She shares different things with Hyde and with Jackie, who compare notes afterward.

Jackie and Hyde think Leia might not be straight, which might contribute to her feelings of alienation in her school at home. They recognize the signs because of their own kid.

Jackie and Hyde decide to stick around for a few days while their kid settles in, which allows them to interact with Leia’s new friends, Red and Kitty, and Fez.

Since I’m sticking to the details of T9S, Fez would remain a salon owner, but he would be written as the best version of himself (a combo of T7S seasons 1 and 4, not the season 7-8 combo we get in T9S).

Jackie and Hyde connect with each of the other kids. Hyde and Gwen, in particular, bond (after some tension) on a lot of levels. There’s one aspect, though, where he thinks his sister can be of more help. He calls Angie (in between scenes), and she shows up (and has her moments with Leia, Red and Kitty, but her main scene is with Gwen).

Jackie and Nikki have a lot to talk about, and we’d learn of Nikki’s ambitions earlier than we do on T9S and the trouble that might cause for her and Nate moving forward. Jackie gives some sage advice, using Donna and Eric as the example (this would be a conversation laced with wisdom and humor because Jackie is Jackie).

Hyde asks Red how he’s going to handle having two Kelsos hanging around his house.

Red: Betsy’s more Rockwell than Kelso. She’s the only one allowed around here. Hyde: No, man. I mean Nate. Red: Nate? Hyde: He might not technically be a Kelso, but he’s a freakin’ Kelso. Good luck with that. Red: Son of a -- Kitty: Not Kelso. HAHAHAHAH!

Leia isn’t straight. I don’t want to erase her attraction to Jay, Nate, or guys. So I would write her as bisexual. Gwen is also not straight, but like a lot of kids in the ‘90s, she and Leia are unsure of what their attractions to different people mean. (Hell, like a lot of kids now, but at least there’s a lot more information -- easily accessible -- out there).

Hyde’s interactions with Oz add complexity to Oz’s character. Hyde sees in Oz the same kind of sarcastic deflection Hyde himself used as a teenager. He also can tell Oz is gay, but he doesn’t say anything about that since it’s Oz’s right to share that info himself. But Hyde tells Oz that if he continually shuts people out to protect himself, he won’t truly connect to anyone--”and those connections, man, are what life’s about.”

Oz gives Hyde a sarcastic, deflecting response, but he also takes in what Hyde said. It works through him during the season and in his interactions with Jackie and Hyde’s kid, whom Oz recognizes as gay.

Oz, who’s comfortable with his sexuality (as portrayed on T9S), approaches the subject with Jackie/Hyde’s kid They bond. They also spot the romantic attraction between Leia and Gwen but don’t say a word about it to anyone but each other (at least for season 1).

Yeah, heteronormativity is out the window in this fic. While Nikki, Nate, and Jay are all straight, Leia, Gwen, Oz, and J/H’s kid aren’t. But the story would not be an afterschool special. The kids’ sexualities are part of who they are, not who they are. This aspect of them would add to the storylines and dictate a major thread but not all the threads. 

Leia, in a conversation with Hyde, says to him, “Grandpa Red hugged you when you first got here.”

Hyde: Yeah. So? Leia: He didn’t hug my dad. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them hug. Hyde: Your dad and gramps have a few things to work out that they haven’t. Leia: Like what? Dad’s never said anything to me about it, and he tells me everything. ... Well, I guess not everything. Huh. Hyde: It’s complicated, kid. Leia: Grandpa Red doesn’t even seem to like my dad, and I don’t get that since he’s the best dad in the world -- not that you’re not a great dad, but you’re not my dad. You’re my uncle -- Hyde: Leia, it’s cool. I got it. Leia:  So ... can you tell me what their problem is? Hyde: I could, but I won’t. Leia: Why not? Hyde: It’s somethin’ you should ask Red about. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into him. Leia: Talk to Grandpa Red? I mean, I talk to him all the time -- but about my dad? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I can’t do that. Hyde: You might be the only one who can.

This conversation leaves Leia more confused and a little scared, but it creates a significant subplot in the story.

Jackie and Hyde talk with Red and Kitty before they leave for their state-hopping summer, giving them intel they otherwise wouldn’t have. Not all the intel but some important info.

Jackie and Hyde leave Point Place, but their influence stays behind. It allows the kids to think more deeply about themselves and one another (and Leia about Red), and their arcs have a lot more depth because of it.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #That '90s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Red x Kitty #Spoilers #Ficlet #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Fanfic Idea

[questioningyourfate]

Sticker Shock

Fate back to remind you that, rather like the joker who trots out a wisecrack about dead mothers-in-law at the group therapy meeting just before the person who initially made the comment about her mother-in-law bursts into tears and explains that said mother-in-law passed away just after whispering that she loved her daughter-in-law like her own flesh and blood, timing is everything.

Fate,

I had it pretty rough growing up. I don’t blame anyone for that except maybe my parents and their deep-seated insistence on “spare the rod, spoil the child” doctrine. 

I knew they were never going to let me go, so I would have to escape. I got my driving practice hours in with parents and older siblings of sympathetic friends I was “tutoring.” I used my nerdy, straight-A reputation to charge classmates money for doing their homework in addition to my own. 

Once I turned 16 and had my license in hand, I used the cash I’d saved to buy a cheap minivan a graduating senior’s parents were selling. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. I knew it wouldn’t be mine for long if I stuck around, though, so I’d brought a duffel bag with me when I went to buy it. I stuck that in the backseat, and after I made everything legal with the DMV, I was headed for the nearest state line. 

Lots of people who hear this story are horrified. I was set to graduate at the top of my class, but I dropped out of high school, lived on the road, showered maybe 1-2 times a week, panhandled to supplement the odd jobs I did, and became a bum instead. 

I have no regrets. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend what I did, but I would do it again in the same circumstances. I got to see so many places, try so many things, meet so many people. After spending almost all of my childhood stuck either at home or at school, the freedom was incredible. 

The first truck stop I pulled into, I bought one of those cheesy bumper stickers that has a weird acronym of the town name. It was a nothing town, just some stop on an unremarkable stretch of road, but I was so excited when I put it on my bumper. I quickly realized that if I bought a sticker for every little podunk rest stop I came to, I was going to run out of both money and space on my minivan, so I eventually stuck to buying them only at truly memorable places like national parks and whatnot, but the pride and excitement of having a new one to put on my ride never got old.

I guess in some ways it was probably a good thing that my van life came to an end. I wouldn’t have gotten my GED, gone to college, met the woman I eventually married, started a business, and all that if it hadn’t. 

I only wish it could’ve ended without taking my beloved minivan and all its travel stamps along with it. Sure, the payout from the other driver’s insurance company was what allowed me to pay the deposit, first month’s rent, and most of my associate’s degree (kind of amazing how quickly insurance companies will cave if you threaten them with legal action after their client hit you head-on while illegally passing another car on a winding two-lane road), but it couldn’t replace that van.

It was my wife’s suggestion for us to take a long road trip and revisit some of those places where I got my first taste of self-sufficiency once my business was in a place where I could take a vacation of that length. It was her idea to pay cash for a minivan from a graduating senior’s family. 

It was also her idea to buy a bumper sticker from the first truck stop we pulled into, and if I hadn’t stopped her, she would’ve plastered it right on the bumper. I couldn’t articulate why I was so upset with the idea of her doing so, and I can only count my blessings that the resulting argument didn’t end our relationship right then and there. 

The bumper remained untainted, though my wife held onto that sticker and all the rest we picked up afterwards. Once we got home, she showed me the collection. It was impressive. I agreed with her that it would be a shame to let all those stickers go to waste, but I explained to her that what really destroyed me about losing my first minivan wasn’t so much the loss of the car itself or even the stickers themselves, but the sense of personal history that vanished when the wreckage got towed away. 

She thought about it for a second, then pulled out all the drink containers (water bottles, to-go mugs) we’d used on the journey and started putting the stickers on those, arguing that it would be pretty much impossible to need to have those towed away. I agreed, and by the time we ran out of stickers, there wasn’t a surface left untouched, except for the minivan outside. 

That was the night two drunk drivers decided to drag race down our street. The one spun out and used my - our - minivan as his landing zone. 

I was trying to avoid tempting you. Why’d you have to, if you’ll pardon the phrase, stick it to me again?

I have come to appreciate a good effort and a good sticker collection, especially one that has to be rebuilt from scratch. That’s why I made absolutely certain the stickers would be preserved this time around.

#stickers #bumper stickers #minivan #van life #personal history #living on the road #moving on #making memories #fate #questioning fate #questioning your fate

[hockeyboysimagines]

Say it to me softly

Chapter 1

Having a best friend is wonderful. But having a best friend your in love with is a whole different story. When Sawyer drops everything and moves to Philly to be closer to Nolan, he realizes she’s always been more than his friend. When a tragic event from her past comes full circle, she leans on Nolan more than ever. Will she realize she loves him too?

Pairing: Nolan Patrick xSawyer Grey

Warnings: Some swearing. I think that’s it.

This is my first fic! I hope you guys like it! More parts to follow.

“So what time is she getting here.”

Nolan hurriedly clicked his phone on to check the time and sighed when he realized it had only been 10 minutes since the last time he checked.

“Her flight lands at noon, I said I’d pick her up-“

“Ahem.” He looked over at Travis who was looking offended over the bowl of cereal he was eating

” Don’t you mean WE are going to pick her up?”

Nolan was excited that his best friend was finally coming to Philly but no one was more excited than Travis. Sawyer made Nolan happy, which made Travis happy. Not to mention he was looking forward to her arrival, because he had his own girl best friend who was in need of another friend.

“Your more excited than anyone I think.” Kevin said chuckling as he started a new game of call of duty on the Xbox with Carter.

“Not for me. Nash and Libby need more friends. If I have to watch one more chick flick or spend 20 minutes watching them pick out nail polish, I’m gonna throw myself off a bridge.”

Nolan smiled.

Nash was a crowd favorite, very laid back and friendly. She was the calm to Travis’ chaos and together the two were the best of friends. She came often to games and accompanied them on nights out. Nolan liked her a lot , and found her very easy to talk to. He could only Hope Sawyer felt the same way.

Libby was Joel’s girlfriend, very sweet and very shy. She, like Joel was so genuine in everything she said and did, and Nolan knew that she would be nothing but kind to Sawyer when she arrived. She and Nash had become close quick and were both looking forward to Sawyers arrival.

He couldn’t say enough good things about her really. She was smart and beautiful and funny and the two of them had spent so much time together they could communicate without saying any words. As kids, Sawyer had always been there to pave the way on the playground for shy Nolan. As they grew and changed and each found their thing they remained inseparable. When Nolan was drafted they promised to stay friends and spent hours on the phone whenever they could. She hadn’t been able to make it to a game, between her job and taking care of her parents but she watched every single one and always waited for him to call her afterwards. The guys couldn’t believe anyone could stay on the phone with Nolan listening to hours upon hours of mumbles which is why they knew she must really love him. Travis and the guys chirped him non stop for it, and berated him with questions about the status of their relationship. But he had insisted they were only friends and shut down any suggestive comments anyone made. He had never looked at Sawyer that way and no matter how much his teammates would have probably liked for him to find someone he wasn’t about to start there. She was beautiful there was no question, but she was his best friend.

Nolan had laid down the law early. He cornered each and every guy on his team and drilled into his head that she was absolutely unavailable and they shouldn’t even think about her because she wasn’t interested, and he would have to kill them with his bare hands if they even looked at her the wrong way. Maybe it was his size or the fact that Nolan didn’t often have much to say, but each and every one of them heeded his warnings. The only one who challenged him of course was Travis but Nolan knew he was only kidding.

Travis was hopelessly devoted to Nash and it was obvious to everyone except Travis. He looked at Nash like with heart eyes every time she was around, and he spent more time with her than anyone else.

Sawyer and Nolan had been friends since preschool. They were neighbors, her house a little up the road from Nolan’s. He was older by a few months but they were close enough that they were in the same grade. Inseparable all through school the first time they had ever been apart was when Nolan came to Philly. Travis knew it was hard for him to leave her, but Sawyer was his biggest cheerleader. It didn’t matter what time they got home after a game, she always answered his calls, and talked with him as long as he needed her to. Travis had been there when he had called her to ask her to move to philly with him, and saw Nolan’s eyes light up when she said yes. Nolan had been a changed man from that day forward, his mood a little lighter and his shoulders more relaxed. Even the guys had noticed the change and it was intriguing everyone.

11:00 finally rolled around and Nolan was frantic as he tried to hurry Travis along.

“We have a fucking whole hour!” Travis protested as Nolan chucked his shoes and his hoodie at him, banging his hand on the counter and then pointing at his watch.

Carter was giggling as Travis grumbled and shoved his feet into his shoes. Nolan was looking more distressed by the minute huffing and puffing and running his fingers through his hair.

They finally got out the door, Travis was jogging to catch up with Nolan’s long strides and they were making their way to the airport.

It wasn’t very crowded at 11:45 on a Wednesday so they had no problem parking and making their way inside. Nolan was pacing back and forth checking his phone

“Will you chill?”

Nolan glared at him and sat down with a huff, leg bouncing nervously.

“What’s the problem?”

Nolan shrugged and crossed his arms but Travis stared at him until he spoke “ I just- I’m worried she won’t like it here.”

Travis frowned “Why wouldn’t she like it here? Your here, and I don’t think she would have agreed to move here if she thought she wasn’t going to be happy.”

“Yeah I guess.” He mumbled

“Cheer up Pat.” Travis said slapping his knee good naturedly “Once she sees your pretty face she won’t be thinking about anything else.”

Nolan scoffed and trained his eyes forward but he was smiling slightly. He hoped Travis was right.

A group of people were now visible and if Nolan was correct it should be Sawyer’s flight. He scanned the crowd looking for her familiar mane of pale hair when Travis nudged him.

“There she is man.”

Travis had only ever seen her in pictures and the occasional glimpse on FaceTime, but he was positive it was her coming towards them. She was wearing a hoodie and a pair of leggings, white vans on her feet, sunglasses perched on the top of her head. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder eyes on her phone, but Nolan would be lying if he said the world didn’t stop moving the second he saw her. She glanced up, stopping mid-step when she saw him. And like the grinch when his heart grew two sizes, a smile spread across her face when she saw Nolan standing only a few feet from her.

She dropped her carry on bag and jumped into Nolan’s wide outstretched arms hugging him tightly around the neck. Travis watched curiously as Nolan squeezed her, face buried in her hair. He had never seen this side of Nolan, so for him to see it now made him realize just how much Nolan really cared about her. When they broke apart, Nolan turned to Travis, still grinning and held out his hand.

“Travis, this is my best friend Sawyer. Sawyer this is Travis. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s alright.”

Travis reached out a hand but she grabbed it and pulled him forward into a tight hug instead. She gave him a squeeze and a whisper soft enough that Nolan couldn’t hear.

“Thank you for taking such good care of him when I couldn’t.”

Her words hit Travis right in the heart, and he could see already why Nolan spoke about her the way he did. She pulled away from Travis and turned back to Nolan, eyes glowing. She was looking at him like he had personally hung the moon and stars in the sky, love and adoration oozing out of her in such a way that it made Travis almost feel like he was intruding on a moment he shouldn’t be.

Nolan was beaming, the biggest smile Travis had ever seen from him as he swung an arm around her shoulder and the three of them set off towards baggage claim. As they stood waiting Travis brought up Nash and Libby.

“I’m looking forward to meeting them. It will be nice to have some friends who are girls.” She bumped Nolan with her hip.

“Rude.”

Her bag finally came into view and Nolan pulled it off the conveyor belt and they finally left the airport.

Sawyer and Travis were joking around like old friends by the time they got in the car. She had a sparkle in her eye as she strapped her seatbelt and rubbed her hands on her legs peering through the windows, taking in the city. She had never been outside of Canada before and the fast paced life of Philadelphia was like sensory overload. Her emotions were running high from the flight, the excitement and being in the presence of Nolan for the first time in a long time. It was hard when he left for Philly. Winnipeg didn’t feel the same after that, but she was so proud of him she felt sometimes like she might burst. She leaned up, head between Travis and Nolan, elbows resting on each of their seats. They chatted lightly as they navigated the airport traffic before Travis suggested the idea of a get together.

“Trav I don’t think she-“

“Sounds fun. I’d like to meet the team. I hear so much about you all it would be nice to put faces to names. Especially you.” She nudged Travis playfully “All good things of course.”

“Awesome. I’ll text everyone right now. “

Nolan slouched in his seat. He wasn’t keen on the idea but there would be no talking Travis out of it now. He wanted to spend some time together just them. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled at him in the mirror. He was mostly quiet for the rest of the ride, enjoying hearing her voice in person and not through a screen. Before she knew it they had pulled up outside an apartment complex and Nolan was parking the car and getting out.

“Let’s get this over with.” He grumbled as he walked up the steps to the apartment.

“What’s his problem?” She whispered to Travis. They trailed a few steps behind him, elbow to elbow eyes watching Nolan’s back.

“He told all of us that if we even thought about hitting on you he’d kill us with his bare hands.” Travis said chuckling, mischievous smile across his face. She rolled her eyes.

“That’s so Nolan. He was the worst when we were teenagers.” Travis smiled and shrugged.

“ He hasn’t been this happy in....well since I’ve known him anyway.”

Travis wards warmed her soul as she followed Nolan inside. She could hear a lot of loud laughter and male voices, several swears and names being thrown playfully at one another.

“Oi! There’s a lady in the house so let’s keep it PG eh?”

They all turned looking surprised but jumping to their feet. She could tell already who a few of them were based off stories Nolan told her, but they were all smiling at her.

Nolan swept a hand across the room, face expressionless “Guys. This is Sawyer. Sawyer this is the guys.” She rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the first one who stepped forward.

“Hi I’m-“

“Kevin.” Sawyer said smiling, and taking his extended hand to shake. He grinned and nodded.

“I’ve heard all about you.”

“Pat what have you been saying.” But Nolan wasn’t listening.

He was glaring daggers at them, arms folded across his chest as they introduced themselves one by one inviting them to behave inappropriately but thankfully no one did. When it came Carter’s turn he didn’t extend a hand but rather opened his arms to hug her. Nolan squinted at him and he smiled innocently.

“What? I’m a hugger!”

As if she sensed the tension radiating off of him, she reached around his middle and squeezed him looking up to smile at him.

They shared knowing looks with eachother, smiling. No one had ever seen Nolan behave the way her was right now, and it was refreshing to see the change. He was always so moody and brooding, and sometimes a downright dark cloud.

The door banged open and two voices came tumbling inside, accompanied by some scuffling.

“Oh Jesus. Ouch.”

“Will you watch where your going.”

“It’s this fucking shelf!”

A girl was rubbing her elbow as she came around the corner, sunglasses over her eyes, followed by another girl who was rolling her eyes.

“Kevin can you please move that stupid shelf right inside the doorframe? That’s the sixth time I’ve hit my funny bone and guess what? It’s still not funny.” She stopped when she saw Sawyer and threw her arms out.

“Hi!” She said shoving Travis out of the way and hurrying forward to give her a hug. Libby followed suit, not quite as enthusiastic as Nash but friendly all the same.

“You have no idea how happy I am that your a girl. I’m so sick of all this testosterone.”

“Excuse you.” Carter said looking offended, mouth ajar.

She let go of Sawyer and smiled at him “Except you of course.” Travis rolled his eyes and sat down on the sofa. Nash grabbed Sawyer’s hand and whisked her and Libby away giggling about something.

The guys went back to video games, sneaking glances at Nolan.

“Can you guys stop.” He mumbled, arms folded. He should have known better than to bring her there first.

The girls were getting along just fine, already making plans to do lunch the next day. They were chattering away at the island in Kevin’s kitchen, paying no attention to anything else going on around them, phones pulled up so they could add each other on Social media and swap numbers.

“Dude. I wasn’t expecting...that.” Nolan turned glowered at Kevin who held his hands up “Wait wait I didn’t mean-It’s just-She’s beautiful that’s all.”

Nolan pointed menacingly at him “Don’t even think about it.”

Kevin smiled “I’m not I’m just saying Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t poke the bear Kev. He knows he’s got a hot best friend but she’s obviously off limits. Find someone else.” Travis said giving him a light shove.

“Then maybe I’ll see if Nash is busy later.” Kevin said turning to slide off his chair.

“Heyheyhey.” Travis said halting him with his hand “ Let’s not get crazy.”

“She’s great Pat. Really.” Carter said smiling.

“I know that.” He said sourly.

They spent a few hours at Kevin’s before Nolan had enough and leaned over her shoulder.

“Can we leave? I just want to spend some time with you.” She turned and nodded, standing to bid the guys and girls goodbye, promising to meet them for lunch during their practice the following day. As they left the apartment Nolan stopped walking and grabbed her hand pulling her to him and wrapping her up in a hug. He breathed out a long breath, wanting to stand there hugging her forever. She closed her eyes breathing Nolan in.

“I’m so glad your here.”

“Me too Nols. Me too.”

#joel farabee #nolan patrick #nhl fic #philadephia flyers #nhl players #hockey #hockey fanfiction #hockey tumblr #nhl writing #fanfic #kevin hayes #travis konecny #carter hart

[forevermore-quoth-the-kitten]

Batboys and Disney Movies

So everyone knows Dick Grayson can't watch Lion King, for obvious reasons. Right? Well he can't be the only one . . . You're welcome.

• Each of the Batboys have a Disney movie they're not allowed to watch, it starts early on when they're robins, but the rules remain as they each grow into their own heroes just in case. And they also have one they love to watch. • Dick's not allowed to watch Lion King because it makes him break down right after 'long live the king' for obvious reasons. His favorite movie is Dumbo, for similarly obvious reasons. • Jason can't watch Aladdin because towards the end he'll burst up and storm from the room, pissed, because it just doesn't work like that. You can’t go from nothing to basically a prince just because someone comes along and offers it up, it always costs some type of debt. Jason still won't watch it without getting pissed as an adult. But his favorite Disney movie is Mulan, because she worked hard and sure she broke the rules, but she was a badass queen in doing it. (He also loves Mary Poppins but kinda tries to hide that one) • Tim's avoid movie is the one he really likes to watch,The Rescuers. Part of it is because the relationship between the mice remind him of his parents, and if they cared maybe if someone had kidnapped him, they would've worked that hard to rescue him. His safer and favorite movie though is its sequel, The Rescuers Down Under. • Damian is not allowed near Hercules, not under any circumstances is that movie allowed in the manor. He can and will rant endlessly about the inaccuracy and with seeth about it for days afterwards. Dick should have known better when he suggested it and Damian's eyebrow twitched, but Damian held onto false hope. As soon as the first done started he burst out that Hercules was the latinized version of his name when Rome took over Greece and if they were going to set it in Greece than use Heracles, it's not that hard. Also! Why are there only 5 muses here?a there are 9-! It was the worst mistake of Dick's life. In other news, it turns out Damian really really likes The Journey to Atlantis, it’s ‘the only sensible and proper movie Disney has ever made’. • There is one Disney movie they all like or love though, and it's always been Duke's favorite movie, and once sh watched it, Cass’s, so no one complains when they consistently chosen it for either of their turns during family movie night. That movie happens to be Lilo and Stitch. (secretly Bruce’s favorite disney movie too).

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #Cass is a precious bean #we love her #duke thomas #disney movies #lion king #dumbo #aladdin #mulan #mary poppins #the rescuers #and #the rescuers down under #hercules #don't worry damian #i understand your pain #i love that movie #but my inner myth nerd dies every time i see it #journey to atlantis #lilo and stitch #ohana means family #and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten #this is their family #they made it all on their own #it is little (not really)

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let's have celebrations for their Wedding

(Inspired by these lovely anons)

Raya spends weeks having a beautiful golden armband made by Fang metalsmiths, which she then brings to Heart artists for the engraving process - wanting her proposal offering to have aspects of both cultures displayed prominently.

But while the armband is still with the engravers, she ends up being beaten to the proposal accidentally by Namaari. They've gone for an evening walk, taking the opportunity to spend time together in private, and enjoy the night sky. Raya is gazing at the stars and pointing out different constellation shapes, when she realizes Namaari is watching her instead of where she is pointing.

'I was going to have a whole...thing planned,' Namaari tries to explain, and Raya just smiles at her, confused at what she's referencing. Namaari grasps her hand tightly, and rests their foreheads together. 'Dep la, I don't want to wait. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would...would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

Raya kisses her deeply, tasting a slightly hint of salt, although she isn't sure which of them is crying - or if they both are. She almost forgets to say yes afterwards, too busy covering Namaari's cheeks with kisses.

They tell Benja first, if only because they are currently staying at the palace in Heart. He swings Raya round in a hug, and she can't help but laugh at his joy. Namaari approaches and tries to bow formally to him, about to apologize for the lack of ceremony she's displayed with her proposal, but he merely steps forward and sweeps her into an embrace also.

Raya accompanies Namaari to Fang two days later, wanting to tell Chief Virana as soon as possible. Virana isn't surprised by the news, but alternates between welcoming Raya to the family in a warm voice, and scolding Namaari for being unable to wait a few more days until the ceremonial daggers were ready for a proposal.

Namaari finally presents Raya with the daggers the following night, when they are sat side-by-side on the large windowsill of her bedroom, looking out at Fang's kingdom. 'These represent the balance between you and me,' Namaari explains, presenting both knives with slightly unsteady hands. 'The symbols are for protection, so you will never fall in battle.'

Raya laughs slightly when she takes them - they feel solid yet lightweight in her hands, perfect for close-quarter fighting. Truly a wonderful gift for her.

Raya uses the moment to thrust her own offering towards Namaari, having collected it in Heart before they left. The armband also has protective symbols engraved along the side, as well as important moments of mythology from Heart and Fang alike - combining the history of the two lands into one.

They agree on two ceremonies; firstly because they would never risk telling one of their parents that a wedding won't happen in their land, and secondly because it is important to introduce the other in an official sense to the citizens.

Namaari suggests that the first ceremony is held in Heart, well aware of the message it sends to the rest of the lands: Heart and Fang are uniting, and there are no longer grudges held between their families. Raya agrees, especially since she wants everyone to accept her new wife as easily as possible, considering their history.

That being said, Raya is somewhat disgruntled that the largest crowd of guests will be coming to this first ceremony, especially as it seems like every dignitary from Talon, Spine and Tail have agreed to attend. But this wedding is bigger than just the two of them - it's a symbol of hope and peace for Kumandra. And at the end of the day, she knows she will be walking away with Namaari as her wife, so it's a small price to pay.

Benja goes wild with the catering for the ceremony. He wants everything to be absolutely perfect for his Dew Drop, although Raya gets an incredibly embarrassed look on her face whenever he says as much. Namaari just nods along wisely at everything he says, and says 'You can't blame him for wanting everything to be perfect for his favourite daughter.' Raya dislikes this new vibe of her father and 'Maari bonding together against her, but merely grumbles 'I'm his only daughter.'

Soon, of course, he will also have a daughter-in-law.

On the day of the ceremony, Raya almost wants to flee, just from the fear of the crowds and expectations surrounding her. But Namaari holds onto her hand tightly, and whispers how she can't wait to begin the rest of their lives together, and it is this image Raya clings onto whenever she begins to feel overwhelmed.

As part of her wedding ensemble, she insists on wearing the two daggers from Namaari, strapped to her waist, as well as a necklace that belonged to her mother.

Namaari wears Raya's armband meanwhile, as well as a well-worn necklace in the shape of Sisu - a private connection to their history, that no-one else knows. There is a large sword hanging at her own waist. It had belonged to her father, and although it is too great in size to be a good weapon for Namaari to comfortably wield, just having it with her brings a feeling of strength.

Tuk Tuk is not allowed to the official ceremony, but as soon as the evening party begins, Namaari sneaks him (as much as she can sneak, with his size) into the palace just to see Raya smile in surprise.

The ceremony in Fang is held a week later, and is a much more subdued affair, at least in terms of the number of guests invited - focusing not on world-saving symbols, but on introducing Raya to the Fang citizens.

Unlike Benja, Virana seems to be quite content at allowing Namaari to deal with all the preparations (but in reality, neither of the girls realize how much micromanaging she is carrying out behind the scenes - she is adamant that her Morning Mist will have the perfect wedding, even if it's a second one).

In tone however, there is nothing subdued about how Fang celebrates weddings. They are a warrior culture, and with that comes, to Raya's amusement, sparring and fighting as entertainment. General Atitaya wins the competition, bowing low to her two Princesses.

'It could have been romantic for me to fight for your hand,' Raya teases in a whisper to Namaari, whose cheeks blush pink in response. 'You had my hand long ago,' she whispers back, and follows that up with a subtle squeeze of her fingers on Raya's knee.

Namaari's serlot is curled up at their feet throughout the entirety of the evening's feast, and if anyone asks, Namaari merely smiles serenely and says it is for security purposes.

Sisu and her siblings of course attend both ceremonies, and Raya is amused to see that Namaari is still as star-struck all these years later as she was when she first met Sisu.

When the wedding finally ends, they take a week to enjoy travelling, not as Princesses of Heart and of Fang, but as Raya and Namaari, two newly-weds who want to have personal adventures and time to themselves.

They take Tuk Tuk and Namaari's serlot, spending their week exploring forests, deserts, market places and more through all the lands. They camp under the stars as much as possible, and remain incognito whenever they enter towns.

They finish their time away by arriving back in Heart. That evening, Namaari takes Raya's hand and leads her on a walk, and they stroll along the pathway while enjoying the growing darkness.

Raya realizes she's taken them to the exact place where she proposed, and they kiss under the stars.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raymaari #raya x namaari #wedding headcanon #there were so many ceremonial things i wanted to include #but we could have been here foreverrrr #our ladies deserve some lovely celebrations #but also time to themselves

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Is it wrong to lie to children?

A personal essay on reconciling with a shitty childhood and the question: is it wrong to lie to children?

It’s perplexing to have a shitty “unorthodox” childhood because initially I tried to throw out everything about It. Toss out the plumping and the rafters and the roofing, dispense of every single part of my upbringing I could get my hands on and not look back. Naturally, this approach didn’t work. It wasn’t even a real possibility. You’re still haunted by it, a ghost in the bones of a house, a foundation that remains long after the builders have left. That’s part of recovery too, to look at that ghost, to look at those bones, and keep saying: I see you, I see. I let you in. You sit with it and accept, accept, accept.

The really terrible part of this, the part where I don’t throw away the baby with the bathwater, is that you then have to raise the thing, deal with it. You have to do the hard work of parsing through the endless bits of self and placing them in “keep” piles and “discard” piles. I want to keep my mother’s kindness. I want to keep my father’s sense of humor. I want to discard the isolation. I want to discard the delusions.

But then there are these weird . . . “I don’t know” things. The things I am unsure if they helped me or hurt me. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more and more of those “I don’t know” categories piling up. I’ve worked my way through most of the more obvious ones and now it’s all grey and mushy and as cloudy as a London winter. Recently, more than anything, I’ve been grappling with the fact my mother believed it was wrong to lie to children. She believed, in her flower-child way, that it was unethical in all forms.

I never believed in Santa Claus. I’m sorry to say I was a pretty obnoxious kid too because I would preach on the playground about how there was no Santa and there had never been any Santa. Which was a bit harsh, but in my defense I was under the impression these people were suffering from some sort of collective mass delusion. They were being lied to. And lying was wrong.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

I’ve known about sex since I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember why I asked, but it was something about where babies come from and so on. Most parents talk about a stork or love or some other abstract side-step. My mother described the anatomy to me and showed me a scientific diagram of the process. She told me that a sperm meets an egg and fertilizes it so the baby can grow. I learned most of this in scientific terms and was surprised when none of my middle school friends knew how a penis worked.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

When I was 9 or so our cat was eaten by a coyote. I asked my mom where he went and she said that he accidently got out the night before. She said they looked for him all morning, but it was too late. She didn’t use the word “gone” or “passed on” or “he’s in a better place now.”

She said he was dead. I said oh. She asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. For the record, I am not actually sure if 9 year-olds should see corpses. That is neither here nor there. It was something that stuck with me though, the body of my cat with his tummy ripped out. I had never seen intestines before. His eyes were open.

But there was something cathartic about digging the grave. About helping pick up his little stiff body by the feet and placing him inside. There was something about piling on the red dirt as the sun set and letting the tears fall.

People on sitcoms hate talking about death. It’s understandable, it’s not funny, it makes for good dramatic irony when the kid asks “Where’s Socks?” and the parents go “Uuuuuh. He ran away.” I’ve never felt more alienated at those points. My cat died. He was eaten. I saw his body, and I buried it. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t want to be told he ran away-- that he had a choice in whether or not he left me.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

For a long time I thought the entirety of my childhood was wrong and bad, because I was miserable and broken at the end of it. I will assure you, my parents fucked up time and time again. But sometimes I have to stop and keep asking: Was this the wrong part? Was this the part where they fucked up? Was any part of this valuable? It’s a hard process to comb through an entire life and decide which bits are worth keeping, and if there are any silver linings.

So here is one: I am an honest person. I am a crooked person too, unsure of where to place my feet in social situations, picking my way through others normalcy. I do not readily share information, I am not forthcoming, and it’s a slow burn for me to open up about anything.

However, I notice time and time again that strangers will share personal things with me. I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s just this pattern in my life. I once went on a car ride with a girl I barely know from my debate team. She described how she wanted to lose her virginity, she wanted it, but was scared God would be angry. That she’d be dirty afterwards. I told her that that was impossible, sex was just an act, it had no eyes, it had no priestly robes, or bearing on her soul. She cried. She said she hadn’t told me anyone this before.

I had a friend in high school who was struggling with an eating disorder, people had tried to get her to talk about it before, but I was the first person she admitted it to. In the hallway, sitting, just discussing nothing, and out it comes: I’m scared to eat sometimes. I was on a city bus and an old woman struck up a conversation with me. Over an hour or so, and she ended up telling me her fears for her own daughter going away to college. Her fear of growing old and passing on. Her problems with sleeping as she lay awake and dreaded it.

People have told me about their problems with substance abuse, their struggles with sexuality, and childhood trauma. People spill to me and I sit there thinking: Why? Sometimes I think it’s my gender or just how people are, but it always feels like I’m missing some part of the picture. Why do people open up to me, unprompted, all at once? Why me?

Is it wrong to lie to children?

Recently, I was reading a memoir set in 2001 where two young kids ask the narrator, their mother, about 9/11. They asked what happened to the people on television who were jumping off the building. Where did they go? The mother says this: They were caught. There are people-catchers that flew and saved them. Everyone is okay.

This story was meant to be heartfelt and lyrical, relatable. It ended like this: It is the job of mothers to offer gentle lies.

I had to stop reading because I was suddenly lost in a white-hot rage, unexpected, knee-jerk. How could she do that? I found myself frothing. They trusted her with answers and she lied. How could she? I knew it was irrational. It was silly even. This was a sweet story. It was meant to be heart-warming and framed in a way that suggested this is what all mothers do. This was what they needed to do. 

I felt my own mother, pumping through my veins, furious that these elementary school students were being betrayed. I stopped myself of course, I knew it wasn’t reasonable. I wasn’t raised “correctly.” I had no legs to stand on.

But still, is it alright to lie to children?

I am once again faced with that unending dilemma: how to throw-out those parts of myself that don’t work and keep the ones that do. It’s difficult to say, because in some ways I agree with my mom. How can I not? But death is cruel. Sex is weird. Santa Claus is a beautiful lie.

And what’s wrong with lying? I still don’t know. What’s wrong with letting them never hurt? Never knowing the pain or gross parts of the world? What’s the harm in letting them make-believe?

But sometimes I think about all those people who have cried to me. All these unprompted confessions come with an unspoken plea: I hurt. I am afraid. I am so scared. It’s all so heavy, these painful truths.

And some part of me stands there, the part my mother raised and says: there is nothing in this life that is too shameful. There is nothing in this world that is unnatural. There is nothing in this life to lie about, even to children.

Is death too painful? Is sex too gross? Would you tell an adult that a man lives in the North Pole and watches them?

I asked my mom, years later, when I was less furious and able to talk with her again without screaming, about why she believed all this. She had told me about it since I was very young, but I never asked why. She shrugged. She said: children are people, aren’t they?

I still don’t know what to do with this.

Children are people, but they are not adults. They shouldn’t be exposed to “adult” things, right? But is that line so concrete? Is the word “adult” just a mask for the greater word, the one we really mean? We all agree: honesty is good. Lying hurts. But it’s alright to lie to kids, because in many ways they aren’t people yet, they aren’t people yet, they don’t count.

I am admittedly an argumentative person. I was on the debate team, mock trial, United Nations, I studied political science in college and fought with every single one of my professors I thought was wrong. And I stood in that playground, age 6, and told every single one of my classmates Santa wasn’t real and I wouldn’t stop. The truth was important. And my mother, no matter what, thought I disserved it.

I often felt tiny and powerless as a kid. Terrified and holding myself together by shoestrings. I often felt there would be nothing better in the world than to be grown up. Not for the money or the dating or the job, I just wanted to feel like the hurricane would end. That one day I could stand on solid ground again. My friend often says: I wish I could be a kid again, ya know? No responsibilities. Just bliss. I want to be a kid again.

I can’t relate. I never have. I’ve been busy weeding through the pipes and lighting and the carpentry of my upbringing and asking myself: is any of this worth keeping? Is any part of me built correctly? There are no right answers.

But still, I am haunted. I sit and ask myself in circles: is it alright to lie to children?

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

My book 🌟 Ko-fi 🌟 Patreon

#personal essay #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #writers on tumblr #story time

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket. 

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train. 

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force. 

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear. 

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged. 

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him. 

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy. 

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent. 

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good. 

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”. 

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point. 

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests. 

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life. 

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.  

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason). 

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom. 

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there. 

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since. 

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary 

#whump #jameson bb #box boy #box boy universe #sadistic whumper #pet whump #pet whump tw #dehumanization #dehumanization tw #prostitution mention #referenced non con #non con tw #bbu #epistolary #epistolary fiction #horror fiction #horror writing #original writing #death of whumper #intimate whumper #restrained #captivity #epistolary writing #oh my god this is so fun to do you guys #whump writing #whumpblr

[lesbiansforboromir]

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment. 

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor. 

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor! 

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind. 

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason! 

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable. 

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis. 

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out. 

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood. 

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now. 

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused. 

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it. 

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before. 

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

#erran vs tolkien #denethor #finduilas #imrahil #boromir #faramir #tolkien #lotr #urrr this isn't meta um... #it'll go into #soap operas in mannish sindarin #anyway #because it's fun #text post #long post

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left

Summary: Life goes on, whether we will it or not

Read on AO3

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left 

***

When a hermit crab dies, its shell is left behind, sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Empty and lifeless, it remains motionless as the waves cover it with sand.

Jamie had once owned a hermit crab. After it had died, it rattled him that the beautiful shell that looked so much like his pet remained even though the crab was gone. 

Now, Jamie himself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell. 

He knew his heart was gone, every ounce of love within him ripped away, but what had surprised him was that it was as if she’d taken his very body with her as well as his soul. He didn’t have the energy for even the most basic tasks. Food was tasteless. His vision seemed foggy. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. Life seemed to happen around him, but he hardly managed to bring himself along with it. He was being buried under the weight of the emptiness. 

Nothingness shouldn’t have been so heavy. 

He spent three weeks laying in his bed. Barely eating, barely moving. 

Jamie was aware that he was wasting away, but he couldn’t seem to care. Claire wouldn’t want him to give up without her. Even more compelling, he wouldn’t want her to act like this without him. Even as he’d sent her back through the stones, he’d told her to live a good life without him. He wanted her to be able to move on. Except he couldn’t bring himself to do the same, and he never would. After knowing the joy of a full life, there seemed nothing left for him in this hollow existence. 

If he could have reached out and grasped onto some sort of hope in his new life without her— not that any seemed to exist— he still would have chosen not to. All the right decisions, the healthy decisions, the ways to cope and move forward— they all seemed like a betrayal. He didn’t want to move on; he wanted Claire back. 

The first time he’d uttered the horrible truth of Claire’s absence outloud was when Murtagh had forced it out of him. His godfather had come banging on his door after Jamie had ignored his texts for weeks, eventually barging in on Jamie’s state of depressed chaos. He had dragged him out of bed, forced food down his throat, and shoved him in the shower. After Jamie looked less like a corpse, Murtagh coaxed the story out of him— at least, the only story Jamie could give. 

“She’s gone,” he forced out. Hearing the words aloud was like a knife to the gut. He’d known they were true— every beat of his heart without the answering one of hers next to him made that truth abundantly clear. But being forced to say it aloud brought a whole new level of pain. 

Murtagh clearly didn’t know whether he meant she’d broken up with him or died. His godfather tried to probe him for details, but Jamie didn’t have it in him to explain anymore. 

“There’s nothin’ left for me,” Jamie rasped, “she was it. Claire—” his voice broke on her name, but he forced it out, finding some amount of reverence in the shape of it on his lips, “ Claire was my heart and soul. I dinna ken what to do, a ghoistidh.” 

“Ye do what ye have to, lad,” Murtagh said firmly, “ye keep going.” 

“How?” he looked up at him with tears shining in his eyes. “How can I keep going without her?” 

Murtagh brows drew together as he grew thoughtful. His expression reflected the gravity of the situation. His godfather knew that he was desperate for a reason to keep going, crying out for help. Words couldn’t heal him, but something had to be said. Murtagh took his time before saying them, very carefully. 

“Ye’re no’ without her, though. No’ really. Ye’ll carry her memory wi’ ye. Ye keep going, and ye bring her wi’ ye, even if it’s no’ in the way ye would have liked.” 

Jamie swallowed the bile rising in his throat. All he could hear was buzzing, the cotton in his ears growing somehow thicker. 

“I don’t want to,” he forced out, shaking his head, “I don’t—”

The meager contents of Jamie’s stomach rose, and he rushed to the trash can before collapsing to his knees and heaving into it. The grief in his heart tried to force its way out of his body, and he wished it could just end this and tear him from inside out. Murtagh hovered behind him, offering him a wet towel, and Jamie sat back heavily against the cool wall. 

“I ken she wouldna want me tae give up,” Jamie said quietly, barely above a whisper, “but I just dinna want tae keep going.”

Murtagh’s eyes swam with emotion and his face crumpled underneath his beard as his brain came to a conclusion. Clearly his godfather thought the love of Jamie’s life had truly died. And she may as well have been to Jamie, or maybe she had actually di—

The fear that Jamie had been fighting for weeks rose inside him again. It was possible that Claire really was dead. More than just possible. She’d said coming through the stones had been torture, and she’d been so weak afterwards when Jamie had found her the first time she’d gone through. He could only imagine what the trip had done to his barely conscious lass, hanging on by a thread. Or maybe he had waited too long and it had been too late. Maybe she’d gotten back and was too weak to even draw energy anymore. Maybe she’d died on that hill, all alone, grieving his loss as much as he grieved hers.  

This fear haunted him, both waking and sleeping, tearing him into pieces. Seeing Murtagh’s face as the man thought Jamie was mourning her death, Jamie wasn’t so sure he wasn’t . He wished he could know what became of her— anything to stop this horrible speculating that churned his mind. But he was left in the dark. Left to hold on to the tiny comfort that he had done what had to be done. 

For his wife. 

Jamie let his head fall onto his knees, hugging his arms around them so they were pressed tightly to his chest. 

“Jamie. I willna allow ye to waste yerself away,” Murtagh said firmly. “I ken ye’re hurting, and I would never suggest ye ignore it. I only ask that you take care of yerself, even when ye dinna want to. If not for the memory of her, then do it for me, aye?” 

He raised his red-ringed eyes enough to see his godfather, and he realized there was real fear lingering on Murtagh’s face. 

As much as he wanted to let himself fade away, he could never do that to the man sitting in front of him who he loved so dearly. 

“Alright,” Jamie agreed, “alright.” 

***

When Jamie was young, his parents had a yearly tradition where they would send him to his grandfather’s house to stay for a couple of nights. His grandfather was loving enough, but every time Jamie went, he was overcome with intense homesickness. He would cry himself to sleep each night of the visit, feeling like the guest room was freezing to the bone as he imagined the warmth of Lallybroch. 

Every day now felt like that homesickness magnified a hundredfold. 

Claire had been the true home of his heart. Jamie longed and ached for her in ways he hadn’t known possible. 

Only that home had been lost. And he was left lying awake at night dreaming of her warmth and missing her with every fiber of his being.

***

While driving on the highway during a long road trip, inevitably one will see a plastic bag being blown down the road. Aimless, empty, and completely at the mercy of the wind. Jamie would watch them sometimes, tracing their progress before they drifted away. But he never asked himself where it would end up because it didn’t matter. The bag would simply continue on, moving forward without a destination. 

Jamie was no more than a bit of plastic pushed by the breeze. He stayed rooted to his life only by his promise to Murtagh. He began to go about his days with empty precision. He would wake up at 8, brush his teeth, eat one cup of parritch, and head into work. Every night he would come straight home, take a 30 minute walk around his property, cook himself dinner, and fall asleep to the murmurs of the tv. 

On the rare nights when he allowed himself out of his robot-like trance, he would venture into the closet of the guest bedroom where Claire’s dresses still hung, and he would bury his nose in it, hugging it close to his chest, searching desperately for a whiff of her earthy-rose scent. 

On those nights, he would cry himself to sleep. 

Jamie continued on, but he had no idea what he was moving toward. 

***

When he was a lad of about 5, he and Willie had gone out to the barn to play. They had a bit of rope with them, and Willie thought it would be fun to try to walk a baby goat like they walked their dog, Rufus. They’d fashioned a leash for the poor thing, but when the time came to “walk” it, the animal had simply laid on its side as he and Willie had dragged it through the dirt, wailing its disapproval but not moving a muscle until Jamie’s parents had run out and grounded them for a week. For the goat, there hadn’t been so much active resistance as simply a complete shut down. 

When Jenny showed up at Jamie’s door one night, ordering him to get in the car to come over to dinner, Jamie had simply obeyed. Getting dragged was easier than fighting. 

She’d driven him straight to Lallybroch, where she, Ian, and the brood resided, and Jamie somehow managed to find a weak smile within himself for the sake of his nieces and nephew. 

As soon as he came through the door, he was overcome by a stampede of little feet and grabbing hands. Chubby arms wrapped around his legs, his hands were grasped, and his body became a playground. 

“Weans! Where are yer manners?! Say hi to Uncle Jamie!” Jenny admonished. 

“Hi, Uncle,” came the obedient responses from wee Jamie and Maggie. 

Before Jamie even had a chance to respond, he was obliterated by an innocent, well meaning question that cut him the core. 

“Uncle Jamie, where is Ms. Claire? Can she come to dinner too?” 

Jamie froze, every muscle coiled up on instinct from hearing that name. He’d tried to numb it out, tried to let himself get dragged on through life without the roadblock that was any mention of his lost love. 

Jenny knew, of course. Murtagh had told her about Claire’s “death”. Her face shown with sympathy as she watched Jamie stumble back onto the bench seat behind him. He sat down hard, pressing his hands to face, and peered down at wee Jamie. 

His voice was thick, nearly unrecognizable, when he managed to force out the following words: 

“She’s gone to live forever with the faeries.”

His eyes flicked up toward Jenny, whose face showed raw grief. She may not have liked Claire much, but hearing about her death spoken in such terms, or at least seeing Jamie like this, seemed to wreck her. 

Only somehow, speaking those words— the truth, disguised as a fairytale for children— actually freed a tiny knot in Jamie’s chest. 

Wee Jamie looked both disappointed and intrigued at the news. 

“Gone to live wi’ the faeries?” he echoed. 

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. He glanced up at Jenny again, and then back at the weans. Every thought in his head seemed to vanish, and he hadn’t decided to do anything, but his body was moving. He leaned down closer and gestured them toward him. Lowering his voice, he said, “can I tell ye a secret? If ye promise ye willna tell?” 

Both children nodded eagerly, waiting with baited breath. 

“Claire is a faerie. I found her on the faerie hill one day, and I took her in. She wasna meant to be here, you see, it was an accident. But we fell in love, and she decided to stay.” 

“But why did she go back then?” wee Jamie asked. 

Jamie swallowed hard. “She… well, she ran out of faerie dust. She needed tae go back to live with the faeries so she could have all the faerie dust she needs.” 

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he had to blink hard not to shed them. 

“I”m sorry ye lost yer faerie, Uncle Jamie,” Maggie said, reaching out her hand to rest it gently on Jamie’s knee. 

He took it in his, marveling at just how small it was. But brought him comfort, and for the first time in the past three weeks, he thought maybe he wasn’t entirely alone in the world. 

“Me too, Maggie. Me too.” 

***

a/n: One more chapter to go in arc II, and it's a big 'un. See you tomorrow and thank you so much for reading!!

Next

#the chapter deluge continues!! #all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

[bokutosvoid]

Remember me, even when I’m gone | t.s

pairing - tendou x imaginaryfriend!reader (fem reader)

(A/N; okay I wrote this last night at one in the morning and I don’t know how I feel about this, it’s much longer than I originally wanted.)

Genre - fluff and angst with a happy-ish ending.

Warning - suggested bullying and descriptions of cuts and blood.

Word count - 2.1k

Tendou sat alone on the grass lawn behind his house that led to towering trees and shrubbery he hoped to once venture to find you. Tendou watched the sky with longing as brisk air blew around him, fluttering his hair and eyelashes gently. The red head boy flopped backwards, the long grass felt itchy against his pale skin but he didn't want to move so he allowed the prickly feeling to remain. The gleam of the sun made his eyes shut slowly, the wind ruffling his shirt in this comforting way.

He felt something bop onto the tip of his nose, followed by a soft laugh that ripped his eyes open. “Are you okay?” your voice peeped “Satori~” you sang with a smile, looking down at him. Your eyes were filled with delicateness, soft and gentle in a way Tendou hadn't ever seen. He didn't expect you to look at him with disdain, but at this point it felt like muscle memory for everyone to be scared of him at first glance. But this feeling he felt when you reached out to him, no fear occupying any space in your mind, it was a feeling that was new, like a warm hug from someone he wished to find.

“How was your day?” you asked, sitting down next to him, pressing your leg next to his. He looked away from you, and towards the fresh wound on his knee, a small amount of dried blood surrounding the shallow graze. You took notice of his quiet demeanour, glancing to where his eyes fell. A soft gasp escaped you as you scrambled up onto your knees to examine his cut, using gracious touches so as to not hurt him. Frustration bubbled in your chest ferociously as his face remained nonchalant. “Did they do this to you?” you asked.

Satori nodded. “Yeah...kept callin’ me a monster too...but it's oka-'' his words were cut short as your small hand squished his cheeks together. Your eyes burned with unsweet tempered anger for the people who did this to him. “It's not okay. You're not a monster, Satori...say it...please” you pleaded softly, wanting him to see what you did.

His eyes widened, blown wide by your words. The sudden, all-consuming thought that you were an angel crossed his mind, briefly, but long enough to halt his own words for a moment. Your hand remained squishing his cheeks, warm but with purpose. After a few quiet moments, the silence filled with the wind, Tendou was able to speak. “I'm not a monster.”

Once your hand left his flushed cheeks, the air felt colder with the absence of your warm palm. He missed that warmth that you gave him for a long time after that. Getting onto your knees, you ran over to the tap on the fence, ripping away poison ivy vines as if it were nothing, only to wet the corner of your dress before running back. You sat between Tendou’s knees as you cleaned the blood. “Your dress is getting dirty, y/n.” Satori interrupted, but you only gave him a smile. “I don't mind, it’s what friends are for,” you looked up at him once more. “Isn't it?” Tendou didn't know, he hadn't ever had a friend to clean his cuts and piece him back together as gently as you did.

From that day, you remained by Tendou’s side, kissing better his bruises and making him repeat the notion that he isn't a monster, that he isn't disposable, that he isn't unwanted. The question as to if you were an angel remained a common occurrence for him, not seeing how a human could love him as much as you had, how you were able to see something in him under surface level.

Satori gifted you flowers bundled messily in his fist, blushed cheeks as he held them before you. You looked up at him and took them with a smile every time, holding them as if they were jewels and not roses missing petals. He didn't care about the thorns, only taking notice of them as he pulled them off so they wouldn't hurt your precious hands. But the small pricks to his fingers did not pass you as he wiped the small amounts of seeping blood onto his shirt. You tended to the cuts again, patiently placing pink bandaids over each of his sores, never forgetting to leave a gentle kiss over it. You were his remedy and your tender, sweet affection always made him smile.

Some nights, he would beg you to stay. Between his shaky breaths and teary eyes, you agreed, whispering ‘only five more minutes’ before climbing into bed with him. Tendou was taller than you, but at times it felt like you were the one protecting him. But you didn't mind. He pressed his forehead against yours to obtain some of your warmth, hands tangled together as you waited for him to drift to sleep. You stayed for a moment, looking at his calm face. You liked to see him calm and peaceful.

Your laughs echoed off the branches the day you dragged him to the woods, finding a tree not too deep into the maze of greenery. “Here!” you picked up a rock. He looked at you confused. “What is that for, y/n?” Tendou asked, still holding your hand.

“Im marking the tree!” you smiled, walking towards the tree. “This is our tree, Satori. So this tree will be ours forever...so you can remember me, even when i'm gone!” you laughed, carving your name into the tree. You turned to him, “we will be best friends forever, This will prove that” he took the rock from your hand and began carving his name into the tree. “But you’ll always be here...right, y/n?”

One night, you stayed up late to watch the stars. Everything just felt...right. It felt like Tendou was complete. Safe with you there, holding his hand tightly as if to make sure you were still there. He noticed how you kept squeezing his hand, your touch loosening as your voice went quiet for a while. He looked to the side to find you, and saw a tear sliding down your cheek. He immediately sat up, panicking slightly as your skin had become pale, maybe it was just the moonlight, but he knew deep down that wasn't it.

“y/n...what's wrong? Are...are you okay?” he asked, wiping the stray tear off your cheek. You sat up, looking at him, taking in his face. “I love you, Tendou. Thank you...for being my first real friend.” you looked up at him with glossy eyes, bringing tears to prick his own.

“I love you too, y/n...thank you...for finding me.” he nodded, pulling your body towards his chest.

That night, after you had let Satori fall asleep, you watched from his door and a feeling you didn't understand wracked your entire body. It hurt and reached deep down into your chest. You didn't know why this departure hurt so much as it was the same as every night, but this odd melancholy feeling was suck drifting over your head as you turned away and walked down the hallway of his home, out the door and into the world.

Tendou never saw you again after that night. He waited for you in the field, but all he found was the space you used to fill. Now empty and lacklustre with the missing piece of him that was you. He waited until dark, hoping that maybe you would come. But you never did. He screamed into the world, hoping maybe you’d come back to him, he searched the sky for you everyday. After a few years, the memory of you had become distant but cherished. When Tendou recalled your voice, your smile, you, his heart sunk with unknowing of where you had gone, why you had left him. He wasn't mad at you, no, he just missed you. He missed you so very much. Every now and then, Satori would venture to your tree, a place that was a physical totem of you and proof that you were there once. You were there and you left Tendou with fleeting memories and this longing feeling that remained a long time afterwards. The names carved into the tree that you shared remained, only your one didn't look like he remembered it, instead of messy, childlike writing he thought were so pretty then, your name was now written like his was in the same writing.

Tendou didn't think the memory of you would follow behind him for as long as it did, staying fresh in his mind all through highschool where he recognized that you were imaginary, nothing more than a perfect angel he had created to be by his side. His parents would often bring up the imaginary friend Tendou had, saying how he would spare her seats at dinner or make sure she always had a pillow to sleep on. He would laugh along but it was always accompanied by this weird twinge to his heart. You just felt so real.

The question if you were even there kept him awake some nights, tossing and turning with doubtful thoughts rattling around his head. He could have sworn you were. The way you held his hand and wiped his tears felt so real. The way you would tell him “as long as i am here, nothing can hurt you, Satori.” when he would come home with fresh scrapes on his cheeks and chin, sitting under the glow of the sun as you told him he was beautiful. Each brush of your fingers, each of your lashes and soft laughs, it all felt so real.

That feeling lingered even as he ran towards the train station on a cold morning, bundles of books in his arms as people stared at him, eyes upon eyes glued on him. Satori had gotten used to it now, but those people were the last thing on his mind as he tried to make the train that would be arriving in less than two minutes. Once his feet made contact with the platform, he heaved out heavy breaths. A sudden jerk sent him falling backwards, the cold concrete making harsh contact with his back. He sat up, groaning as he looked back to the group of people who had knocked him over.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked him as his head was turned. It felt like someone had shot electricity up his spine, sending a rush through his entire body. That voice…

Tendou looked at the person before him, eyes blown wide as they looked down to him. You stood there, softness covering your face as you looked at him worriedly. The train zoomed by behind you but Satori could only notice the way your hair looked as the wind picked it up, flourishing around your face. He could have sworn it was you. Your eyes held that same look you had given him all those years ago.

“I saw those people knock you over...god, some people are rude.” you scoffed before dropping to your knees, to pick up the books and papers that laid scattered on the station ground.

Tendou couldn't say anything, all motion felt ceased as he looked at you. You looked different, but all the same in a way. Words felt harsh as he tried to find the right ones. He saw you pick all his things into a neat pile before putting them next to him. “Did you hit your head?” you checked his face for cuts, but all seemed fine. Tendou felt his heart squish in his chest. Was it really you?

“No...i’m alright, thank you” he responded and you nodded. Sighing with a smile. “What's your name?” Satori blurted before he could stop himself. Your lips remained pulled into a grin as you answered. “My name is y/n l/n...what about you?” you asked, standing to your feet.

“My name's Tendou Satori.” he responded, trying to process. It's you. You're here. “Well, it's very nice to meet you, Tendou,” you held a hand towards him. He looked at your outstretched arm and fleeting memories came rushing back, now vivid and bright. He took your hand, getting to his feet. You gave a departing smile before you walked past. After a silent moment, Satori turned quickly, suddenly.

“Wait!” but when he turned, he saw your fading figure walking away.

His legs moved before he could think, bringing him to you. He stopped, a small distance keeping you apart.

“Wait…” he panted, out of breath but still determined. You turned to him. “Yeah?” you laughed softly.

He had so much to say, so many things he needed to say. But he had found you, or maybe you had found him. Whatever it was, he didn't want to lose you again.

“Do you wanna hang out sometime?” was all he could think of. But your lips curled into a smile.

“Sure.”

#tendou scenario #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou angst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyū!! #haikyuu fluff #shiratorizawa #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #satori x reader #satori tendo x reader

[conscious-love]

Hi, idk if you can help me with this but my mum is suffering from anxiety and it's causing some rifts in our relationship because I am also suffering from anxiety and low self esteem (maybe depression but still waiting on results) it just feels like my feelìngs don't matter when I bring up my issues, it always seems to rotate back to how she feels and how it's "so much worse".

For example, she left her job due to how bad her mental health is but when I was stuck in a really bad work space and was causing me to have mental health issues, I had to stick at it and not be so "dramatic". (This was like my very first job btw)

I've had anxiety for years and she's only had it the last few years but it just somehow feels like a competition between us both and I don't want that. I want my mother, I just want to be understood but I'll feel like an asshole if I tell her this, I don't want to disregard her feelings but I'm tired of feeling like she's disregarding mine.

How should I approach this?

Hello 👋🏻

My first advice is:

Talk to a therapist

Kindly suggest to your mom that she talk to a therapist

It sounds like she’s relying on you to validate and regulate her emotions, and is so preoccupied with her own suffering that she sees yours as a threat, like it somehow diminishes her own. She would benefit from talking to someone whose job it is to listen, affirm her feelings, and help her sort out her problems; feeling seen and understood by them would likely take the burden off of you.

You should not have to regulate anyone’s emotions. Certainly not your mother’s. If she has a history of parentifying you, this would be another thing to bring up with your therapist, as this codependent mother-child dynamic has likely caused issues that you carried into adolescence/adulthood.

You said you want your mother, that is a perfectly valid and natural thing to want. She is supposed to nurture you and be there for you. Parental relationships are not like other relationships. When we become adults, the relationship becomes a bit more reciprocal, but even then, they are still our parents. They don’t need to take care of us, but they should be supportive, and they shouldn’t put their emotional burdens on us. They can share it with us, but they should not make us responsible.

If you’re an adult, you do not have to put up with her venting her frustrations on you. If you’re not an adult, my advice would be different, so reach out again if this is the case, or talk to a therapist (who could help you more).

“I don't want to disregard her feelings but I'm tired of feeling like she's disregarding mine”

You don’t have to disregard her feelings to let her know she’s been disregarding yours. You can tell her this while still being sensitive to her problems and suffering. You do not have to invalidate her, but you will have to upset her. It sounds like she’s used to being the “important one” in your dynamic, so you breaking that pattern will disrupt her, and she may feel hurt or angry, at least at first. That’s her problem, not yours, although you should still be kind and receptive as she processes it. It is NOT your job to make her feel better or cheer her up after you express your hurt feelings and your needs. If you want the conversation to go as well as what is in your power, and you want the chance to remain close to her, you will need to be loving, but you should NOT take responsibility for her. The whole point of this discussion is to pass back the responsibility of managing her emotions — because that’s her job, not yours.

“I’ll feel like an asshole if I tell her this”

First of all, there is nothing inherently mean about what you want to say to her. The only thing that could make it mean is how you say it and how you respond to her afterward. If you speak lovingly (but firmly), then you will be kind enough, and if she responds negatively that’s her fault.

Also, consider your own feelings — they are what’s most important here, because they are yours to protect and advocate for. You have no control over her emotions, nor should you. The only one who should take on the responsibility of managing her emotions is her.

You’re taking too much of the responsibility, harbouring guilt that should not rightly belong to you, and caring about her needs more than your own (likely because she trained you to do so). She has been dismissing your feelings and invalidating your problems. You’ve been sitting with this burden for quite some time, and it’s time that she shares this burden. She is the main or sole cause, so she should share responsibility. She’s causing harm and she should know about it; her conscience will punish her appropriately, and then she has the chance to rectify what she’s done. Guilt is a useful emotion; if you try to shelter her from that, you’re hindering her growth and hurting your relationship with her. Letting her feel that guilt could bring the two of you closer, and for that she would be grateful.

To recap,

Tell her how all of this has made you feel

Ask for what you need (set boundaries)

Be compassionate and gentle but do NOT try to regulate her emotions

If she doesn’t respond well at all, take care of yourself (not her)

And regardless of how the discussion goes:

Talk to a therapist if you can

Suggest that she talk to a therapist (or at least to other people)

If you live with her and cannot move out, I’m sorry you’re stuck in this type of environment. I’m sure this has been weighing you down, and probably impacting other parts of your life. I hope she responds well enough to the discussion, and that she sees the error of her ways. You deserve to feel heard and to have your feelings witnessed and affirmed.

If you don’t live with her, or you’re able to move, this is an advantage for you. If the discussion doesn’t go well, you can take a break from her and maybe try again later. And there are other people you can spend time with instead of her. You deserve to be surrounded by people who are good for you. If she can’t offer you that (at least right now), I recommend that you A) spend less time with her, and/or B) open up to her less about your problems and C) stop/limit responding to her when she tries to vent to you. If she can’t be supportive to you, you should not put in much (or any) effort to support her. Relationships should be reciprocal.

Remember that your needs are important, and the only person whose emotions you are responsible for are your own. Best of luck to you, and take care of yourself.

~ Bella ✨

#ask bella love #curse words #subjugation #codependency #caretaking #enabling #boundaries #invalidating #gaslighting #parentified child

[lys-lilac]

Yuki Sohma: An In-depth Character Analysis

I remember getting this anime as a recommendation in summer almost 2 years ago. Right, when the reboot season 1 started. I was so engrossed in this that I can’t tell you. The theme of the series always made me keep at the edge of my seat. And yeah, as the title suggests, I got to admire him the most-

I know, many of you might think that I fell in love with his beauty after seeing him in the anime for the first time, but unfortunately, it’s a big no. I love the characters who care about others so much. And he is the perfect example.

Now, the point is, what makes him steal the top rank for me while most of the fandom is basically about Kyo and Tohru? Let me put down the points. But before that, grab your earphones or headphones, and play this song as you read about the things he has been through.

1. His selfless attitude

His kind nature shines throughout the series. We see in the beginning that it was he who discovers Tohru living in a tent. He welcomes her to stay in Shigure’s home, even after knowing that their curse is being put at risk and takes care of her fever. After she sleeps, he ventures out in the night to dig up her belongings. Even though he mentions that he had selfishly taken her just to rebel against the family curse, still this is replaced by his benevolent and sweet nature towards Tohru. As a result, their relationship is beautiful.

He also has helped her countless times, whether it’s taking her back from her relatives, or lending her hand to carry the grocery bags. These all moments define how pure their bond is and how both trust and care each other.

2. His willingness to sacrifice everything 

This point actually reminds of Kasumi Toshiki from Romance MD: Always on Call. Even though he appears plain on the surface, he can go to any extent just for the sake of her happiness. One instance of this can be from season 2 episode 22. Kyo and Tohru seem to be in the hallway, with Tohru trying to grab the script from his hands. Just then, Yuki says whether they would give him way to go upstairs. It is obvious that Yuki would have seen the whole thing, but for her sake, he doesn’t interrupt. The line he says here is-

“You are precious. I look up to you. I cherish you because you provided for me what I desperately longed for.” 

Now what did he yearn for? It was Tohru’s love and affection for him, which he didn’t get from anyone else, not even his mother when he was a child.

3. The heart-fluttering sweet moments and his character development

Ah! Thanks to the production for such sweet moments of Yuki and Tohru. Even if the ship is not canon, they will still remain my favorite.

In my opinion, this story actually portrays Yuki’s development in character more than any other thing. This is amazing. The boy, who was unable to let go of his dark past, the truth that he was after was covered with a lid, all are slowly untangled with Tohru’s compassionate nature towards Yuki. Unlike the fan club who adored him only for his looks, she sees him in a different, more friendly light, which mellows him up. What’s more, the once timid boy builds up so much courage within himself that he doesn’t get afraid of Akito anymore and confronts her face to face. The warmth he searched for, finally reaches him just like a soft feather, landing on his palm, giving a soft and soothing touch of happiness. 

Let’s look at this background here. Yuki is surrounded by chinese bellflowers, which symbolize honesty, unchanging love and obedience. In his hand lays a white rose, which means, devotion, and innocence. The color white itself and his name are a symbol of peace and silence. This actually is an imagery for his character, and it resembles it truly.

Yuki had no intentions of getting on bad terms with Kyo. But it’s seen in episode 20, that Kyo shouts at him outside the banquet saying it was all his fault. Although he was small, but those words were like a heavy blow to him. What’s more, even when he comes back crying hoping for his mom to console him, she slaps him and warns him not to disappear again. (Noo... T^T)

(Kyo shouts this to him outside the hall.)

There is some fault with Kyo as well for this point. All Yuki wanted was to become friends with him. He yearned for the parental love and friendship which Kyo had since his childhood. But, the latter has the misunderstanding that Yuki had everything.

Yuki says this when he remembers that Kyo didn’t take the hat from his hand when he gives him. This makes him cry so hard, cause he was just a little child going through these painful things, all at once.

“There was something I wanted. Parents who would embrace me. A home I wanted to return to.” 

(Yuki cries after being ignored by Kyo.)

Even though Kyo’s behavior initially compelled him to be like that, even though he knew that there is a lot Kyo was internally suffering from, but in episode 22, he just couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of debating, he stays silent and shows his most vulnerable and hurt face to Kyo, because he didn’t want things to end up like that between them. He didn’t want the person he admired to lash out at him every time, when he was at no fault at all, and still is the prey of Kyo’s anger and apathy. This only leaves Kyo speechless, making him break the window out of frustration. This part pains me a lot, because Kyo had at least someone he can throw out his anger and put the blame. But Yuki didn’t even had that.

There is again this pretty imagery here. Yuki, when looking at Kyo, is bathed with the sunlight. This symbolizes the change he has gone through and accepted it, which is really stunning to notice. 

[The rest are in paragraph form from here]

Now that I have talked much about his positive points, let’s explore a hot topic which is often a reason of disagreement between Yuki’s fans and Kyo’s fans.

What are Yuki’s actual feelings towards Tohru? 

I know that almost all the fandom here will say these feelings which he talks about is what a mother would give to his child. And this point strengthens a lot more as it was confirmed by the author. If that’s the case, then let me state my thoughts on this, which are opposite to the author’s.

Let’s again move back to episode 22 of season 2. In the first half, Yuki talks to  Kakeru about his first meet with Tohru when he was a child. At that time, he was tortured so much by Akito, both physically and mentally, that he thinks that there is no purpose of his life, and he is not needed by anyone at all. With this thought in mind, he disguises himself with a baseball hat and runs away from the Sohma estate. After some time, he discovers Tohru’s mother, Kyoko, crying because she was missing. He suddenly remembers to have seen her earlier, crying in the street, and helps her to reach her mother. At last, he places the hat on her head and disappears. It is later seen that he has converted to his rat form, and cries on realizing that at least at that point, he was needed by Tohru, and his thoughts were proved wrong. 

He mentions that he almost forgot to ask her name at that time. And when he again was hitting the bottom, Tohru approaches him in the high school, slowly building courage and giving love to him. He also discovers later that the girl, whom he once his hat was none other than Tohru. With things unravelling, their bond becomes stronger. 

But, although he mentions that he had only motherly affection towards her and couldn’t see her in a romantic light, I still doubt the line itself.

“But she appeared before the hopeless me once again. To be with me, close to me. She even listened to what someone like me had to say. Time after time, she accepted me time and again. She’s beloved to me. Like how the sky feels so close, yet so far.”

This line, although somehow shows that Yuki is saved by Tohru every time he is in need of it, but it feels weird to say that he only thinks of her as a mother here. I mean, one can also feel like this if he/she is helped by a good friend, or a dear one. And Yuki also mentions that she is beloved to him. But, what about the last line? Doesn’t it sound like, he can’t reach her even if she was close to reach? Because this is the exact meaning. If we analyze word by word, then this makes sense, as Yuki had already realized by that time that Kyo and Tohru had mutual feelings towards each other. In fact, he says it himself that it dawned on him in the last episode of season 1 when Tohru chases after Kyo into the forest, the latter being converted to his monster form. And how could he not? This guy is mature enough to figure out anything. Then this would have been nothing.

One instance of this realization could be the beach arc episode 7 , where he says-

“I probably actually knew, in the back of my mind. What would happen if I opened the lid. What I must do. Thanks for always being willing to lend an ear. Thanks for always accepting my weaknesses.... You probably don’t know that you are the one who’s always saving me. You always shared your kindness, warmth, and joy with me. That’s why, I won’t lose. I will keep going forward, and keep believing.”

Tohru asks the exact thing which was going on my mind listening to that voice acting. Why did he look so sad there? And Yuki replies that she is just like the sky, very dear to him. Doesn’t it sound exactly like a confession to a person about what she did for you till now? Yuki already had realized that, and this is just a proof. He sounds sad, and he also compares her to the sky. The metaphor which comes to mind is that he is basically symbolizing that her vast expanse of kindness is just like the sky, which is so close, yet so far. Even if he wanted, he can’t keep her all to himself. That’s why he just says that she is dear to him. The way it is portrayed here, is just like saying goodbye before parting ways. Huh... I didn’t continue the season afterwards because of this scene. T~T

(Why, why did he cry after saying that she was dear to him....? Isn’t it right in front of your eyes? *sobs*)

And, if he only sees her as a mother, then what does this mean-

“I was so confused, not to mention incredibly embarrassed. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, so I didn’t. I shut it away immediately. I stuffed those feelings down, teased and flirted like a normal guy with the girl he likes. But still, it felt wrong.”

It’s clear here. He had somehow developed romantic feelings for her, earlier. But when he realized it was not what he meant, and saw the gradual progression of Tohru and Kyo liking each other, he changes his mind, thinking that he might have been wrong the whole time. That the feelings he harbored for her weren’t correct. But when he thinks of her as a mother, he feels embarrassed. And it’s no different. Why wouldn’t anyone feel like that if it’s someone of your age? This implies that their relationship wasn’t a romantic one, but not a motherly one either.

Kakeru asks the same thing next. He says that maybe he has twisted his thoughts and feelings just after knowing that he had lost her to Kyo. But Yuki denies it saying-

“It’s not true why I feel like this. But, he properly sees her as a woman. He loves her. You can see it in his eyes. Her too. The way she looks at him... But I... I don’t want that! That isn’t what I want! I’d feel... so lonely. I am not willing to give up. I don’t know when to give up.”

(Such a pure boy... Just cried after saying that... )

Definitely as said above. He is obviously jealous of Kyo here. Not in a romantic way, but because he didn’t want Tohru’s kindness and hope she gave him to recede away. Even if it was like a good friend, he wanted to stay by her side. He is mature enough to see the bonds that she and he shared. And he is not the type to fret over getting rejected or anything like that. Moreover, you can already get a hint from the line that he approved of Kyo and Tohru. This always impresses me. The bond that these two have is so beautiful and unspoken, that it transcends romance itself. 

Although this is probably half of my reasonings, I will stop here. Although I covered the most important ones here, but I wanted to discuss many other scenes too. Let’s keep it for next time!

#fruits basket #furaba #yuki sohma #sohma yuki #character analysis #kyo sohma #tohru honda #akito sohma #kakeru manabe #lys's thoughts #analysis and thoughts #i ship the pure and beautiful relationship they have #T-T #coffee with lys

[janetbrown711]

Do you think you could write a little something for your "Angelina I lives" AU where maybe we see one of Angelina I's lessons with Yakko, but AFTER the whole fiasco of when he bit her? To see how they would interact? Love your AU btw <3

Yakko wasn't one to use the word "hate" lightly, but he could say with all the confidence in the world that he hated his grandmother.

At first, he had been willing to give her a shot. After all, she was his grandmother and people were supposed to respect their elders and those they were related to. He had been willing to listen, to take part in her lessons, and see if what she said made a little bit of sense.

However, the moment she hit Wakko, all of his respect for her evaporated.

He lashed out and bit her. He didn’t think when he did it, but afterward, he had no regrets. It was only fair.

Sure, his mother told him he shouldn’t do something like that ever again, but Yakko knew that if she were to try and lay a finger on Wakko ever again, he wouldn’t hesitate. After all, it was his dad who told him an older brother’s job was to protect. 

So, naturally, when his mom informed him that he still had to take lessons with his grandmother, he was upset. However, his mother reminded him that none of them really had a say in it and Yakko understood it was just something he was going to have to do, especially when he saw the pain in her eyes. He didn’t want her to worry about him any more than she already did, so he agreed to do it. 

However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do this his way. 

“Remember what we said: you aren’t going to try anything with your grandmother,” his father practically read his mind. 

“Why not?” Yakko sighed dramatically. “She deserves it.”

“Because we care about you very much and don’t want what happened to Wakko to happen to you,” William explained softly. 

“So no biting?” He asked. 

“Definitely no biting. Her arm is still healing from last time,” Willaim suppressed a chuckle. 

“Just... remember, it’s often better to fight with the pen rather than the sword. Much less blood is spilled that way,” William said. 

“So... you’re saying it’s never okay to bite?” Yakko asked. 

“Not exactly... there are certain situations...” William said cautiously. “It’s just... your grandmother is one who prefers the sword over pen, and it causes people to fear and hate her, and none of the issues actually get solved,” he explained. Yakko nodded. 

“But that’s not to say there aren’t moments where your hand is forced... like, for example, if invaders were in the castle and people were attacking. Then it’s okay. Self-defense is perfectly fine,” William said, nodding to himself. 

“Or if someone were to attack Wakko?” Yakko suggested. William caught onto what he was doing and smiled a little. 

“Or if someone was attacking Wakko, that’d be alright too,” He winked. 

“I’m not saying what you did was wrong, Yakko. I’m just saying that there’s a very large risk factor in attacking your grandmother. Whether or not we like it, she’s in charge, and if you attack her she’ll likely attack back. That’s why words are better than getting physical with her, because no matter what, you won’t be ready for those consequences,” William explained, and Yakko finally understood. 

“Okay... I won’t bite her,” He said. William gave him a side hug as they finally arrived at Angelina’s study. 

“Well... we told her we wanted someone to go in with you at all times, but seeing as she has no respect for us or our wishes, there probably won’t be,” He sighed. “But you’ll be on your best behavior, correct?” 

“As best as I can,” he chose his words carefully, still intent on doing it his way. 

“Good,” William smiled. “You’ll be alright then, won’t you?” 

“Bye dad,” Yakko gave his dad a hug before going in. 

“Yakko. There you are,” Angelina looked at him with an unsettling smile.

“Here I am,” He said, not knowing how to respond, and he quickly sat in his usual spot. 

“We’ll begin with dining etiquette- What are-?”

“Salad, then dinner on the left. Salad knife, spoon, soup spoon, then oyster fork on the right,” He grinned. 

“That wasn’t what-”

“Oh! Hors d’oeuvres, amuse-bouche, soup, appetizer, salad, fish, first main course, palate cleanser, second main course, cheese, dessert, and mignardise,” He listed off. Angelina shot him a look. 

“Your impertinence is dually noted, Yakko. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” She said. 

“Whatever do you mean? That was what you were going to ask me, was it not?” He said. Angelina huffed. 

“It’s not proper to-”

“-to speak over one’s advisor, yes, but I argue that this is a much more efficient way to get through lessons,” he shrugged. 

“I’d argue otherwise,” She said dryly. “Now, how do you-”

“Fan folds are done by folding a large square napkin in half to create a rectangle, creating pleats, then folding in half again so pleats are on top, then folding upper left corner down and tucking behind the center pleat, which creates a triangle, then releasing and letting the pleats fan out,” He said with his eyes closed. “However, I don’t really know why you’d want me to know such things, as napkin folding is traditionally done by servants of the castle and not done by the host.” 

“I instructed you to only read until the third chapter,” Angelina pointed out. 

“Why? So you’d set me up for failure so I wouldn’t know anything of what you were going to quiz me about?” Yakko smirked. 

“You forget who you are speaking to,” Angelina’s eye twitched. 

“I’m speaking to the queen, am I not? Or is the real queen somewhere hidden, because that would explain quite a few things-”

“That is enough, Yakko,” she glared, and Yakko wisely pulled back. 

“Well, seeing as your already so far ahead, why don’t I quiz you on your knowledge of history instead. What can you tell me about King Winston?”

“He’s dead,” Yakko said. 

“No-”

“He’s alive? Why isn’t he in charge then?” Yakko looked around the room. 

“No, he’s not-”

“Make up your mind, is the man dead or alive? Goodness,” He shook his head. 

The queen growled. “Did your mother put you up to this?” she asked, borderline fuming. Yakko raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I’d recognize that smartassery anywhere,” She glared. “If that impertinent child doesn’t stop, I swear-”

“No! I did this all on my own,” He quickly said. “Mom had nothing to do with this.”

“Trying to be the hero now?” She raised an eyebrow, before a little smile grew on her face. 

“Perhaps this will get you to pay attention then,” She said, going to one of the shelves and selecting a book. Yakko bit his lip nervously. 

“Tell me, Yakko, what do you see here?” she said, showing him an illustration in the book. 

“A really tall tower? Why are you showing me that?” He questioned. 

“It’s a special room in the castle for those who disobey my orders. However, seeing as you love to play hero, if you don’t stop with the smart talk, I’ll throw your little brother or maybe even your mother in there for a week with no food,” She explained coldly. 

“You wouldn't do that to your own daughter,” He said. 

“I’ve done far worse than your little head can imagine,” She said, taking the book from his hands. 

Yakko felt a wave of empathy for his mother. 

“So... are you going to let me talk now? Or are you going to continue with the smart talk and have your brother and mother punished?” She grinned. 

“Dad would free them. He’s strong,” Yakko pointed out. 

“Oh? So you’re saying I should lock him in the dungeon underground while they remain above? What a splendid idea,” Her eyes shone. 

“No!” He protested. 

“Then do we have an agreement?” She asked. Yakko bit his lip once more, partially considering just biting her again. If he could just even the playing field just a little bit...

“Whether or not we like it, she’s in charge, and if you attack her she’ll likely attack back,” His father’s words from earlier rang in his mind. He probably should’ve listened so this threat wouldn’t have happened. Yakko sighed. 

“Yes,” He said, taking a silent vow to make up for this minor setback in any way he could- to attempt to lower the playing field just a smidge. 

“Good,” She smiled. “Let’s return...”

Queen Angelina then began to lecture, and Yakko stopped paying attention. Instead, he thought about what to do next. 

Perhaps him and Wakko could set up elaborate pranks around the castle, and watch her go mad trying to figure out who did it. 

No, she’d probably know it was the only two children in the castle, and Wakko would be punished. 

Maybe he could talk back in a more subtle way.

No, that was him trying to be subtle. It was very clearly not his strength. 

Maybe he could try talking her into giving him different tutors?

That wasn’t likely to work, as she made it clear from day one she was to be in charge. 

Maybe if he let her choose?

No, she’d never agree to that much. 

He was stuck with her. For the moment anyway... perhaps he’d think of something better in time when she cooled down and wasn’t expecting anything. 

Yes, that was what he’d do; wait a month or two for her to relax, act like her perfect little prince, and then start back with the quips, but not too strong like today. He’d work on his “i’m not technically wrong” strategy too, it clearly needed work. 

Yes, that’d work. Maybe if he wore her out or drove her insane over time she’d leave him and his family alone. 

He could only hope anyway. 

Yakko sighed, feeling bad for his mom and dad. This whole protector business was hard work, and they’ve been doing it as long as he’s been alive. 

That was why he had to do it though, they deserved a break. Yakko could handle the responsibility. 

He was going to wear her out so slowly but effectively she would no longer want anything to do with any of them, and then they could all be happy and his parents would never have to worry about her ever again, not if he had anything to say about it. 

After all, it’s a big brother’s job to watch over and protect, and that was what Yakko intended to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#i cant believe its not angst #my fics #angelina 1 lives au #animaniacs #yakko warner #sir william the good #william warner #queen angelina i #xD #a tiny break from angst but buckle up bc next time is much much worse ;)))) #you'll see #aldjfjjwjfdjjzhdsjk #i love william

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Phobia (one-shot)

Pairing: OC (female character) x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: suggestions of smut, violence, language, mentions of blood and gore

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: He found her when she was nothing - disgraced by her family and cast aside as an outsider. Yet, Chan made her feel wanted for the first time in her life, in more ways than one, which leads to countless nights of passionate love...until their worst fears come to fruition. 

A/N: Chan, you will always be a perfect husband to me. Thank you for coming to my short Ted Talk.

This time when he came home, he was covered in blood...

I almost broke down in the foyer at the sight of him, but Chan was quick to reassure me, shaking me by the shoulders as he patiently explained that it wasn’t his blood - there was a shooting at their exchange, but neither Chan nor his men had been injured. Of course, it doesn’t stop me from leading him upstairs, drawing a warm bath in our shared en-suite while fussing over the state of Chan’s suit, or what was left of it. His pale skin was apparent behind the black fabric of his dress pants, and there were long tears in his shirt. 

Needless to say, I threw all of those blood-stained clothes away before urging him into the bathtub, carefully kneeling down onto my knees as I started dragging a soft cloth over his skin. Chan moaned in delight, throwing back his head against the shower tiles while he allowed me to fuss over him - to reassure myself that he was okay, and that the horrific image of my husband standing in front of me drenched in blood was nothing more than a terrible memory.

I softly ran my fingers through his blond-hair, working through the tangles while being mindful of his eyes, using my hand to move his head back when I used a pitcher to wash the shampoo out of his delicate curls. “Hey,” Chan said, voice hoarse from overuse as he watched me drag his hand out of the bath water, working on the dirt and grim under his fingernails. 

I paused when I fingered across his wedding band. “Don’t come home like that ever again.”

I could feel Chan looking at me, and there was a lot of regret in his eyes, but I didn’t feel any remorse over my sharp tone. “I’m sorry, babygirl,” he said. “They were shooting at Felix and I-”

“You don’t have to justify your work to me,” I interrupted him. “I know the risks, but I never want to see something like that when I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chan nodded, and I shifted back when he sat up in the bathtub, allowing sensual rivulets of water to climb down the toned expanse of his chest and stomach. Meanwhile, I used the towel holder to help myself stand up, grabbing a spare towel for Chan, and trying to ignore how red the water remained after my husband had climbed out to wrap the towel around his waist.

Afterward, I allowed Chan some privacy in the bathroom while I returned to our bedroom, crawling into bed while remaining mindful of my stomach - the evidence of life bloating the skin. I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands along the exposed flesh, and I knew that it was bad to feel any kind of stress while I was pregnant. Unfortunately, my husband’s chosen line of work never made things easier.

Eventually, Chan joined me on the bed, leaving the towel hanging loosely from his hips while he shot me a concerned glance. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, and his eyes immediately dropped.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, and I looked over at him as Chan slid one hand around my waist, holding me and our unborn child protectively.

“You’re right about everything, baby girl,” he said. “I’ll never scare you like that again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned him, but Chan shook his head sternly, keeping me close before landing a soft kiss to the edge of my lips.

“I have a lot to clean-up tomorrow,” he said. “Work might take awhile.”

I sighed in return, looking up at the ceiling. “Wake me up before you go.”

Past

When Chan and I first met, his ledger wasn’t nearly as red. He actually served my family, taking on small cases with his friends, Jisung and Changbin, in service to my father. However, he had started to garner a reputation for being a quick hand and a good shot when it came to using guns, and Jisung and Changbin provided the perfect support for their little unit.

My father considered Chan to be one of his favorite apprentices, and he even approved of my early relationship with Chan. Despite my tendency to rebel against my father’s chosen favorites, I couldn’t resist Chan’s dark persona and contagious personality. He could probably talk the wealthiest man into giving away half of his fortune once he listened to Chan’s cunning words. 

On our first date, he showed me how to count cards in the Casino that my father owned, and after only three weeks of dating, he fucked me so hard in the backseat of his car that I saw stars after almost passing out from the pleasure.

We technically met in my father’s office because I had stormed in on one of their meetings unannounced, ready to confront my father because he had forced my youngest brother, Jeongin, to attend some lousy military school. Jeongin had cried for the entirety of the days leading up to his unwanted departure, and I had stood outside on the porch fuming as he was taken away from me.

But my father was really good at screwing over the members of his family, and I had finally had enough of his intervention. However, I also remembered hesitating when I saw Chan standing next to my father’s desk, freshly dyed hair glowing under the Chandelier. “Oh, it’s you,” my father grumbled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said in return, maintaining eye-contact with Chan as I retreated from the office. 

Later that day, I asked my mother about Chan, and she told me that she didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that his parents had been killed in a raid - probably from my father’s doing - and he was serving our family. “Your father seems to like him,” my mother said, and it was only one of the very few times in her life that she had told the truth. 

Thereafter, I developed an unfavorable opinion of Chan since my father liked him, but it didn’t take Chan very long to change my mind and prove me wrong. He wasn’t blindly loyal to the man who destroyed his family - he was cold and methodical, and he told me how he planned to eventually break away from my father and form his own business with Jisung and Changbin. He spoke so passionately that it was hard not to fall in love with the burning look in his dark eyes. 

From then on, we became close to one another, sharing our deepest fears and desires, and we weren’t afraid to demonstrate our affection for one another. I was actually happy for once, which meant that something had to go wrong in my life. And it turned out that one of my father’s business partners was threatening our family because we owed them a lot of money, and my father planned to pay his debt by doing something rather despicable: selling me into their service.

It was humiliating, and I knew exactly what I would become working for a family that was notorious for its influence in the adult entertainment industry. I was enraged that my family would sentence me to that kind of life, but I wasn’t nearly as upset as Chan. We had been together for six months, and Chan had already started to include me in his future plans...the exchange was unacceptable.

So, on the night when my family planned to sell me to their rivals, Chan and I drove away in one of the cars that we stole from my father, bringing along Jisung and Changbin who fired off rounds of bullets from the windows as we escaped into the solitude of the night. Consequently, my family disowned me, snatching my last name and removing me from the family tree. But it never concerned me, especially when Chan offered me his last name instead, vowing his loyalty by exchanging intimate vows and marrying me on a warm, spring afternoon. When he fucked me that same night, he whispered sweet little nothings that contradicted the filthy way that his hips moved against mine, driving his cock deep inside.

After that, the two of us were inseparable - a dynamic duo that was ready to take the underground mafia world by storm...

Present

Before the sun had completely risen, Chan was stumbling out of bed with exhaustion written across his wearied countenance. I watched him move around the room, admiring the hard planes of his back as he dressed himself in the usual combination of black dress pants and a white button-up shirt. Chan claimed that it was important to look his best when it involved meeting with our rivals.

I closed my eyes when he neared my bedside, and I could feel him leaning down to press soft kisses to my forehead, fingers trailing across my stomach before he was leaving our bedroom with a heavy sigh. I swallowed hard against a sudden wave of emotions, remembering his appearance from the previous night, and the same restless anxiety managed to bleed its way around my heart.

Graciously, I managed to eventually fall back asleep, but it was only for a few hours because I was brought back to reality by the sound of the fire alarm blaring throughout the house. I groaned in complaint, throwing off the sheets before grabbing my dress robes and trudging downstairs. 

As I grew closer to the commotion, I could hear two men loudly arguing from one of the adjoining rooms, attempting to be heard over the sound of the annoying alarm. When I walked into the kitchen, I wrinkled my nose at the burning smell from the stove, waving my hand to clear the smoke. And standing at the center of the drama was Chan’s younger brother, Felix, as he engaged in a heated argument with my brother, Jeongin. “It’s your fault!” I heard Felix say. “You can’t cook bacon like that!”

“I told you to watch the pan!” Jeongin retaliated, and I rolled my eyes at their immature behavior.

“Hey!” I yelled, forcing both of them to pause. “Can you seriously not do this right now?”

Felix was the first to notice me, pointing an accusing finger at Jeongin. “Hey, he started it!”

I closed my eyes. “How old are you again?”

It was a surprise to me that they had both managed to live with us this long without engaging in more than just verbal altercations. After Chan and I rescued Jeongin from his cruel military academy, my husband invited him to join the organization. At first, I was hesitant of the decision, but Chan never invited Jeongin out on missions with them. Instead, he and Felix did most of the reconnaissance work from behind the scenes, and Jeongin was remarkably good with computers. Maybe he wasn’t on par with Felix’s hacking skills, but my younger brother continued to expand his skill set because she was determined to be the best.

Unfortunately, working in close proximity to one another on a regular basis inevitably led to numerous arguments. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, and neither Jeongin nor Felix was capable of flexibility, especially when it meant admitting that they were wrong. So, they often argued over trivial things, and I was usually left around to mend their bruised egos.

But a cooking dispute? At this hour? I shook my head because I didn’t have the patience to deal with them. “Leave the pan and go upstairs. I’ll take care of everything.”

Felix and Jeongin shot each other nasty glares as they obeyed, and I waited until they were gone before opening the windows in the kitchen and resetting the fire alarm. Finally, I turned my attention to the mess on the stove, cleaning with an exaggerated sigh. It was moments like this that made me long for the days when I used to accompany Chan on some of his missions...

Past

Chan only ever brought me along with him when he felt that a situation was incapable of turning violent, and he liked having me around to distract lesser men as he talked them into agreeing with anything that he said. I, of course, liked being helpful to my husband, and I always played my part well. For example, dressing in low-cut affairs that tended to produce insatiable responses from my husband who loved to drag me into his lap.

It made me feel powerful, arching my back as Chan ran one of his hands down my waist. “Look at your tits,” Chan said, stroking his fingers across the swell of my breasts. “Gorgeous.”

I beamed at his compliment, allowing him to handle as he liked while Chan turned to finally address the impatient man sitting across from us. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all night,” the man said with a challenging stare.

“My apologies,” Chan smirked. “I’ve been rather busy.”

“I can see that,” the man said, but his smirk suggested that he wasn’t entirely understanding of Chan’s delayed commitment. Apparently, Chan was trying to sign some kind of arms deal with him, and my husband was very greedy when it came to our money. 

“I have my price listed,” Chan said, shoving the contract at the other man. “You can sign at the bottom.”

“Isn’t this a bit cheap?” the man asked. “The cost of labor alone is barely covered by your...generous offering.”

“It’s my final compromise,” Chan said, feigning boredom as he tugged at the neckline of my dress. “What do you say?”

“How about one night with your whore?” the man asked, leaning in across the table to reveal two rows of slimy teeth.

Immediately, I could feel the way that Chan tensed from underneath me, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. “I hope you’re not referring to my wife.”

The man chuckled. “What difference does it make?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, and I saw a myriad of emotions reflected in his narrowed eyes. “Baby girl,” he eventually said while looking at me. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks?”

I nodded my head, scrambling to find my footing as I left the comfort of Chan’s lap to retrace my steps to the bar at the opposite end of the club. The bartender recognized me, sliding two beers in my direction with a smile before sending me on my way.

However, I suddenly paused when I started to approach our table, realizing that Chan had wanted to keep me away for a valid reason. He had also drawn a crowd of onlookers who watched as my husband smashed our target’s face into a pile of broken glass on the table. There was already so much blood, and Chan’s eyes were wild with his rage. He was also flanked by Jisung and Changbin whose fingers wrapped around the handles of their weapons. “You learned a lesson tonight, didn’t you?” Chan growled, grabbing the man by his collar to toss him into the floor. I winced when Chan’s heeled boot pressed down against the man’s throat, and his hands immediately wrapped themselves around my husband’s leg as he choked. 

There was every reason to feel horrified, watching my husband handle a man with so much violence while surrounded by blood and gore. But I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I smiled as I stood aside with our drinks, watching the action unfold with greedy eyes.

Present

It was late, and I could feel myself growing anxious. I passed the time by pacing the floor, resisting the urge to run into the other room and demand an update from Jeongin and Felix. They were playing a pivotal role in tonight’s mission, and they didn’t need my distraction.

But I could tell that something was wrong. The clock was ticking away loudly in the background, and every instinct was screaming at me to call my husband and demand his whereabouts. “Come on,” I muttered, hugging my arms around my stomach as I was prone to do these days.

Sleep wasn’t an option. Becaus my mind was a chaotic mess of restless thoughts and horrible scenarios flashing across my eyes. What if something bad happened to Chan?

I couldn’t stand it anymore. He had always promised me that he would come home, but it felt shallow on nights like this. Because life never promised any guarantees, especially when you put yourself in harms way on a regular basis.

I was approaching my wits end when Jeongin burst into my room with wide eyes. “What is it?” I snapped at him, allowing my frustration to boil over like a steaming kettle.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jeongin said, and he somehow managed to catch me before I collapsed in the floor.

Past

But I suddenly couldn’t breathe, looking down at the seemingly mundane object in my hand. It was forecasting a fate that neither Chan nor myself had planned for our future. Something that could be dangerous in our world, and I already feared for my unborn child’s life.

However, it wasn’t something that I could hide - a secret to hold onto because it wouldn’t bear any consequences. This changed everything, and I had no idea how to tell Chan when I saw him later that evening. We had plans to have dinner together, and he looked divine as always, dressed impeccably with his hair slicked back, and perhaps to anyone else he would appear perfectly put together. But I knew better than most.

“How was work?” I asked, staring down at my dinner plate because I had lost my appetite.

“It was fine,” Chan said, shoveling another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth like it was his last meal on Earth. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“Not much,” I said, hesitating as I looked down at the pregnancy test in my lap. “Felix kept me entertained.”

“As long as he’s staying out of trouble,” Chan said, reclining back in his chair as he looked at me from over the table. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my tone was quiet and uncertain, but Chan must’ve had a billion other thoughts on his mind because he didn’t comment on my mood.

“I’m not busy tomorrow,” Chan said. “We can do whatever you want.”

It made my heart swell with affection to hear him say that since I knew that he was either lying or exaggerating. Because Chan never had any free time. “Channie,” I started, “I have something to tell you.”

Chan adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms. “What is it?”

I bit my tongue, wrapping my fingers around the pregnancy test as I carefully brought it onto the table. There were so many ways that I could tell him, but nothing seemed to sound correct inside my head, and I was fumbling with an explanation. However, when I met Chan’s sweet smile and kind eyes, I managed to latch onto an inkling of confidence, finding my voice the longer we continued to look at one another. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered to Chan, watching him carefully as he listened.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I would’ve never noticed if I wasn’t paying such close attention. But then he noticed the test I had brought resting on top of the table. “It was positive,” he said, almost like an observation.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod, waiting with bated breath as he folded his arms across his chest - and it was a vulnerable position.

Eventually, Chan stood up from the table, and I shivered when I thought that he might leave the room, but he instead came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “We’ll make it work, baby girl,” he said, holding me like I was something fragile that he needed to protect. There were tears in my eyes before I could hold them back, and Chan was kneeling on the floor and looking at me with so much love. “I’m gonna give you the world,” he promised, and it was a solemn declaration, sealed with a kiss to my shirt-covered stomach.

Present

Time was a social construct, and we can feel its effects most profoundly in the moments when it feels like it might run out before we can do anything to stop the inevitable. In desperation, we struggle to breach the surface of the water and take a much-needed deep breath - but there’s only so much that we can do for the things beyond our control. Yet, we still try to remedy them, and I found myself pacing anxiously outside of his hospital room, ignoring the suggestions from his other members to relax and sit down. Because my mind was incapable of settling down, and I could only chant the words, he can’t die, as they repeated over and over again inside my head, remembering how the doctor looked at me when I confronted him.

“We’ll do the best we can,” the doctor had told me, but it wasn’t good enough.

I was on the edge of total self-destruction, and maybe it was the first time that I finally realized just how affected I would be without Chan. Because the world would be so cold without him next to my side, and I couldn’t bear the thought of facing that oblivion of darkness.

He had to keep living for me...

“Mrs. Bang,” a nurse said, pulling my attention to the smiling woman approaching me. “You can see him now.”

I sniffled and nodded, following the nurse as she led me to Chan’s room, feeling my heart grow lighter with every step in the right direction. Until I was confronted with Chan’s familiar presence, watching me from his hospital bed, and I was on cloud nine as I rushed to him. Wrapping my arms around him as I cried softly into his shoulder. “Channie,” I whimpered, pulling back to press my lips against his for the necessary reassurance of his touch.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

I shook my head because the fear was still there - lingering at the edges of my subconscious, acting as a reminder of the utter dread that I had experienced when Jeongin first told me that Chan was somewhere I never wanted to see him. “I thought you were gone,” I whispered, grabbing his hands to ground myself in this reality with Chan, surviving the impossible for another day. “This is my worst fear, Chan,” I continued. “That you won’t come home, and our kid will grow up without their father.”

Chan sighed, and I noticed that his eyes were swollen around the rims, and there were unshed tears waiting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It can’t happen again,” I told him sternly, hoping I looked more fierce than I felt on the inside. Because Chan needed to be explicitly told these things in the only way that he would understand.

“I’ll always do my best for you,” he said, and I realized that his tone was thick with emotion and the unsaid words between us that we were both still too afraid to vocalize.

“I love you, Chan,” I said. “I know you like the work that you do, but I think it might be time to take on less responsibilities.”

“You’re right,” he said, looking up at me with a sad smile. “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I just need you,” I said, allowing him to pull me onto the bed next to him, and we both savored the silence humming throughout the room and the familiar presence of the person who we needed more than anything else in this cruel world. 

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