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childotkw · 10 months

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i'd also like a top ten list but of your own characters :D I am still intrigued about your original stories and I'd like to know how you rank them and why

Oh god I don’t know if I can contain this to just ten, I’ve had a lot more OG stories crop up over the years that I haven’t spoken about on here 😂 why don’t I do top 3-5 for each?

Aasdfsdgfsdfklgjsd this is so long I'm so sorry 😂😂😂😂

Storm Son Series

Tristan - he is my boy! My son! So earnest, and he wants to be a good ruler to make his mother proud while protecting his friends. He can be reckless and headstrong, but is a natural leader and charismatic. Still young enough to believe in the good of others, a bit naïve and idealistic, but it's endearing. Comes up with crazy plans on the fly, and loves Alden and Sena so much he's ridiculous.

Alden - he’s just…so cool to me. Perpetually responsible, to the point of being obsessive when carrying out his duties. He seems reckless, but he knows his own capabilities so well that any risks he takes are actually calculated down to the finest detail. He is the one that enables Tristan’s crazy plans. He’s got ~hidden trauma~, but loves Tristan and Sena enough to let them in.

Sena - she's very Angry but she’s got Reasons for it. An outcast, she just wants to find her place in the world, and have a family with someone that genuinely loves and respects her. She’s not human, and is insanely strong, to the point where yeeting Alden at an enemy is a move they hone and use regularly. She loves Alden and Tristan and would die to protect them.

Lucas - the cool suave mentor figure. Massive DILF energy. Alden is his protege and thinks he is “all the best parts” of Lucas. Pseudo-father-son relationship on full blast. Lucas has done some bad shit in his past though, and it makes other, older characters very wary and distrusting of him.

Rosen - main villain. He’s clever and dangerous, and can come across as a madman but he’s actually fully in control at all times and that makes it way worse. Calculative and manipulative, he’s all-in in his plots and confident that he can win. Mildly obsessed with Alden because of his undisclosed past with Lucas.

Undertow

Cassius - if trauma had an associated image it would be his face. This man desperately needs a break. A child soldier, he struggles emotionally to connect with others whenever he tries, and has a lot of identity issues. He loves his twin brother, and though he does a lot of horrible stuff, he's equally messed up by it. He's my punching bag and is a water mage.

Darian - Cassius' twin and number one protector. Can, has and will throw hands to keep his brother safe. Darian is a lot more carefree and emotionally stable, but he also hides a very dark streak. He enjoys fighting, revels in violence and is borderline psychotic with only Cassius existing in his sphere of loved ones. He's a fire mage, and terrifyingly suited to his element.

Cenli - the head of the institute that trains the mages. She's cold and political, using others for her own gain without hesitation. She only wants to protect the institute. Does play a somewhat maternal role for Cassius and Darian but it's a very complex relationship.

Kalim (might be renamed) - high ranking bad dude that's obsessed with Cassius because he saw him do A Grisly Murder once and it tickled his fancy. He's playing 4D chess against everyone and is very hard to predict. Pretty much everyone hates when he's around because they all know he's up to something but they can never prove it.

Trials of Edos

Eli - probably the sweetest all-around character I’d ever write. He’s young, like fourteen, and very much a Classic Hero that wants to save everyone even at cost to himself. Selfless and kind to balance out the absolute magical power he’s packing. Kid could destroy the sun but he won’t because he’s a Good Boy. Needs supervision though because he attracts trouble.

Ariella - a thief with an honour code that means she can’t let Eli throw himself at the Big Bad alone. She gets caught up in the plot and just never leaves. Very confident, very switched-on, very competent. She finds Cayden adorable because he’s trying to be chivalrous and respectful. She enjoys pushing his buttons.

Cayden - a knight from an extinct order that swears loyalty to Eli after he saves him. He’s just a good guy, bit out of touch but genuine. Ariella both terrifies and fascinates him, and they work well together. He’s got a lot of guilt and trauma though, which springs up at the oddest times and makes his friends very protective of him.

Gods and monsters (not officially named)

Ira - disgruntled immortal wizard (think 5000+ years) that is forever in service of the royal family. He’s got Tired Dad energy when interacting with Elana but everyone else just gets a glare. He’s insanely powerful, has a long, long history and Knows A Lot Of Shit because he’s been around for it all. Very Angry at the Gods for Very Valid Reasons.

Elana - Princess-turned-Queen after her father’s death. She’s twelve/thirteen, very inexperienced and has been ‘given’ Ira as her key advisor, but she has no idea who or what he is. Very quickly bonds with him as a father-figure, and wants to uncover all of his secrets. She’s inquisitive and clever but painfully young, and still believes in goodness and fairness and daydreams.

Constance - Elana’s grandmother, former Queen. She’s old and not always aware of what’s happening around her, but she and Ira have a past because he was her key advisor when she was Queen. She’s very respected by her people, but had a vicious streak not many know about.

Ziris - the god of fortune / misfortune. Very young, only about 800 years old. He’s a troublemaker and fickle but if you catch his interest he’ll be ride-or-die for you. Very loyal to his goddess-mother, and is heavily involved in the politics of the Gods. He has a fondness for irritating Ira, and likes Elana.

Dystopian (not officially named)

Piers Erinson - my sad, wet, pathetic son. Someone needs to get this boy some therapy. Very self-destructive, way kinder than you would expect. A member of the DOVEs, which are the elite troops / spies of the Council. He was strong armed into service after a mishap with his old squad, and is the nephew of a hated former DOVE, and traitor. He’s forever trying to escape that shadow, and carries a lot of guilt over what happened to his squad. He would die for Etta, his DOVE partner - and tries to multiply times but she just won’t let him.

Etta Litman - my daughter! Badass lady, 10/10 want to be her friend. Etta was part of Piers’ squad when The Thing happened. She saw him spiralling and joined up with DOVE to keep an eye on him, essentially threw herself to the wolves to protect him from the system and all the corrupt people. She’s very patient, supportive and empathetic to Piers, seeing him as a surrogate younger brother. Anyone else can get fucked in her eyes. She’s super protective of him and will punch anyone who insults him at the drop of a hat.

Dacre Cygnet - rebel, wants to fight the Council and the system and probably God too. Very manipulative, often lies to even his friends if it’ll get him what he wants (and he might even feel bad about it). Blinded by his mission and fully willing to go through people if they stand in his way. Feels many things all at once towards Piers that he cannot compute because he’s a bit of an asshole, very much a “you are the only person I’d hesitate to shoot, please don’t use that against me” kinda deal. They’re on opposite sides technically but he pines.

Marie Fowlep - Piers and Etta’s mentor in DOVE. She had a history with Piers’ uncle, and you can’t tell if she wants to keep Piers safe or wants to use him until he breaks. Doesn’t have a maternal bone in her bone but would go to bat for her kids operatives. She’s a “the ends justify the means” kind of lady. Can be very mean.

Rust and Ruin

Mikol - youngest child of Emperor Bendek and Royal Consort Anilise. He’s aware from a young age of the shitty position his mother (and he) have in Otrar’s court and feels a deeper connection to her as both of them were considered ‘outsiders’ due to their features. After his mother died, Mikol spent the next nine years in his mother’s country as a ward, and grew to be a cunning, quick-witted and strong leader. He travelled all over, joined the army, learning as much as he could about how badly his family ruled, and eventually returned to Otrar. He’s an ambitious little fucker and doesn’t get along with his older siblings, especially his oldest half-brother Leonil.

Orryn - born in Troam Siana, the isle of the Ashri (those capable of different types of magic), he was quickly singled out as a new type of Ashri (called Okaeti - capable of energy manipulation). He grew lonely though as the only Okaeti, and made his way to Otrar. Decades later he’s still there, acting as an advisor to the royal family but growing increasingly frustrated with how they govern. He was close friends with Anilise and grows to care for Mikol.

Anilise - the daughter of the King of Evaria, she was forced to marry Emperor Bendek after their country was conquered. Anilise was fifteen, completely isolated in a foreign, hostile court, and essentially forced to breed over and over because the Empress could not carry more children herself. She’s quiet and subdued, treated more as an ornament than a person. Anilise birthed four children, all made to look like the Emperor and Empress in utero by an Ashri magic. Anilise had little to no contact with her children, who grew up thinking the Empress was their mother. Mikol is her only child that looks like her, so she was allowed to raise him. Unfortunately, her constant pregnancies deteriorated her health to the point where she was bedridden, and she died when Mikol was six.

Leonil - the oldest of Bendek’s children, he’s a cruel and cunning young man that wants the throne. He has a particular dislike for Mikol, who he acknowledges is the most dangerous of his half-siblings, and the two of them are each other’s main rival / enemy. Leonil is married with his own young son, and loves his wife and child fiercely. He is ruthless when it comes to defending his claim to the throne, and wants Mikol out of the way.

Delia - Leonil’s wife and a very charming, conniving woman. She’s a softer touch when it comes to manipulating others, and shares what information she gleans with her husband. She also thinks Mikol is dangerous but thinks he'd be more beneficial on their side than against them. She is an excellent politician, and people often underestimate her.

#anonymous #original works #guys #gUYS #IM SO SORRY ITS SO LONG #I just have so many ideas and so many characters and i get so excited talking about them!!!!#thank you for asking i greatly enjoyed rambling on about my babies!

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clairenatural · 3 years

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no more fluffy human!cas I only want it if it's angsty and gritty and tragic. a week after he gets back they're in the kitchen, and dean burns himself on a hot pan, and cas reaches to heal him without thinking. they stare at cas' hand hovering over the burn on dean's thumb for a handful of seconds before cas silently leaves the kitchen and doesn't speak for the rest of the night. the first time he ends up in the hospital is from a manageable wound that he refused to tell the winchesters about until it was badly infected. he forces himself to not go to sleep until he's watched dean fall asleep and he insists on being the first one awake, so he's running on 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night and making stupid mistakes in fights. dean only convinces him to talk to him about it after he sits outside in the freezing rain for hours, refusing to use a coat or an umbrella, and gets so sick they worry it's pneumonia. it takes him a long time to be okay and years later he still finds himself flexing his shoulder blades, stretching his non-existent wings like phantom limbs.

#the first sentence is /lh i like mindless fluff that is ignoring any realistic struggle #but my truth is that becoming human would be deeply upsetting and traumatic for cas even if he chooses it #he would NOT take to being Useless And Breakable #If I Cannot Protect Dean What Use Am I complex #i think to make up for this he gets just. super buff and dangerous at like. knife fighting?#bc he still has his blade #i think he trains obsessively and is terrifyingly good at it #but that's a few steps away #mae.txt #human!cas

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feelingmarvelous13 · 3 years

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crestfallen | bucky barnes

summary: night brings a lot of things to a lot of different people. to you, it brings the guilt of Bucky Barnes pain.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

warnings: swearing, anxiety

word count: around 1k

a/n: hi! this is me trying to write! it's my first time writing bucky and exploring fictional characters seriously. thank you so much @bucky-at-bedtime for your help with this. it was so insane to have you as my go-to person. you're such an inspiration! i have no idea how far this will go but thanks to everyone who's reading this. let me know what you think!

✮ ✮

You don’t know how long you sat on the couch before Bucky came looking for you. Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an eternity. Did it matter? The thing you knew for sure was that the thoughts that currently inhabited your mind could keep you awake for as long as you lived.

What a pleasant prospect.

Bucky noticed immediately that something was wrong. He saw it in the way you were clutching your knees to your chest, in the way you stared onto the living room carpet that you had persuaded him would look gorgeous in here because the pattern reminded you of your favorite sweater. He felt it in the way his heart ached as he had to endure the sight of you – undeniably lost.

He just stood there for a moment, at the edge of the couch. Bucky was afraid of what was happening – emotions, real, human emotions were still something he was re-learning. What if you suddenly changed your mind about him? What if he did something wrong but had been too self-involved to notice? Or worse…what if he couldn’t help you with what you were dealing with?

“y/n, what –,” he had to clear his throat, “what is it, doll?”

You closed your eyes, as if you were in pain. Bucky’s heart sank. What the fuck was happening? It was the middle of the night, nearly three in the morning and here you sat – the one person who made him feel whole seeming so… empty.

You didn’t know what Bucky was feeling right now. The freezing pain inside your chest was making you dizzy. You forced yourself to look up nevertheless. And there they were – his soft blue eyes … which, you’d imagined all night, had seen so much tragedy and heartlessness, so many things you wish you could’ve spared him.

“I don’t know…I just –,” you seemed to choke on your own words but you were not strong enough to hold them back any longer, “I want to take it away from you, you…you know? Everything, everything they did to you. I don’t want you to go back to a war that was long ago in your dreams just to wake up and … and find yourself at war with yourself. I don’t want you to be alarmed when a glass falls and shatters on the ground because it first sounds like… like gun fire to you. I don’t want you to feel weird or strange or misplaced because you don’t know how to tell me when something is wrong. I really just –,” you were sobbing at this point, furiously sobbing. You were taken aback by the rage that was unleashing itself in that moment – as if it had always been there, quietly seething inside of you, slowly scratching the emotional surface … until it was set free.

You took a deep, trembling breath.

“I want to punish every goddamn soul who ever did you wrong. I want you to be happy and content with who you are. I want you to feel free when riding a motorcycle, not like you’re on the run. I want you to listen to old music without feeling like you’re…out of this world. Everything you are is so … worthy and utterly beautiful to me. Everything about you makes me want to live– you know… live in a world that is not made for loving and kind and empathetic people. A world made for torture and lies and hate. And they did all of these things to you. I guess I just wish… I could’ve protected you.”

You stand up with shaky knees and walked slowly towards him, his silhouette ghost-like against the dim light coming from the bedroom you shared. You forced yourself to keep looking him in the eyes, not really able to read his expression though. Were you overwhelming him? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t think about anything but the pain in your chest, the disappointment you felt in yourself that you knew was irrational – and yet felt terrifyingly real.

“And this – this isn’t –,” you tried to wipe the tears off your face, “This isn’t pity or something like that. I’m just angry at the world for hurting you. So fucking angry.”

You see Bucky frowning, not saying anything at first, just looking at you, watching you as you grabbed his face and ran your fingers carefully through his messy hair, tears still forming in your eyes but your breath starting to slow down. He had never experienced anything like that before. Or not in this way. Steve had looked at him the same way a few times before, when he was going to places Bucky was sure were just as dark as his very own. When his best friend was trying to fight against guilt and shame and hurt. But this – this was different. It was as if somehow he had managed to transition his pain and nightmares onto you. Bucky felt like he had done the very thing he was always so obsessively careful to avoid.

You looked him in the eye, still waiting for a reaction even though you weren’t sure you wanted one. It hadn’t been your plan for Bucky to find you like this, to listen to you losing control. And maybe, as he always did, as he was trained to do, he was blaming himself for what you just said.

Maybe you had just made a huge fucking mistake.

Almost automatically, you wrapped your arms around him, something you knew made him feel safe, and muttered softly: “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky, too, wrapped his arms around your back and shoulders, holding you, just as you were holding him. And he remembered that giving each other stability and security was what you two were all about. Bucky made a decision in this very moment, hearing you breathe against his chest: right now, he could believe you, he was allowed to believe you and not think of himself as the monster they made him. He trusted you – because here you were, muttering I-love-you‘s like an affirmation, telling him how it hurt you to see him hurt. Empathy was something that came from a good place – standing with you in his arms, he realized that. And, for once, he was at peace with that – and with his decision.

“We’ll be okay. Trust me on this, doll.” He whispered, slightly taken aback by his own optimism.

You moved a bit away to look him in the eyes again and tried yourself on a smile. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Or I’ll die trying.

#james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky angst #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #i'm so sure no one will see this

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

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Mobster!Steve Rogers - Pt. III

Part I & Part II

WARNING: violence and abuse

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

“Well, you’re being awfully quiet today…”

Steve snapped out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

His mother smiled, already knowing her son wasn’t listening to a word she was saying.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Stevie?”

“Nothing. Sorry, ma. I’m just tired.” He sighed.

But Sarah Rogers didn’t believe him one bit. “You sure it doesn’t have to do with that gal you took out the other week?”

Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, truly not realizing who she was talking about. Then it clicked. “Oh, Stacey? No. I wasn’t thinking – No, mom. She’s not the one for me.”

Sarah chuckled. “You say that about all them, you know.”

Steve’s bright blue eyes went distant. “Not all of them.”

His mother seemed to be able to read his mind. “Yeah? Well, you sure as hell messed that one up, didn’t you?”

Steve rubbed his face, clearly exhausted. “Please, ma. Not today.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad honey. I just worry about you.”

“You ain’t got nothing to worry about, ma. I’m fine. Always am.”

Sarah sighed. “Had I known how this throne would’ve lay on your head, I would’ve never allowed your dad insist on letting you take over the family business.”

Steve just stared at her, unsure of what she was trying to say.

“You’ve always been soft, Steve. Gentle. Kind. Empathetic. You got those bits from me.” She smiled sadly. “But your father only wanted to see the parts of you that were like him. I know you believed you didn’t have a choice. But you did. I just wish I had made that clearer. But you were grieving your father. I don’t think you would’ve listened to me anyway.”

“I don’t think I would’ve either, ma.”

“Your father managed to keep me and you safe, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. He did,” Steve confirmed.

“So, why are you so convinced that anyone you love will be given a death sentence, sweetheart?”

——————————————————

Steve opened the front door of his brownstone mansion. He shook the rain off his umbrella and gave a half glance to the two parked cars on the street that were always filled with men running security on his home.

A rumble of thunder erupted just as he closed the door behind him. It coincided with Bucky’s steps hurrying down the stairs.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call your for 2 hours?” Bucky snapped at him.

Steve glared at his best friend, but was more annoyed than angry. “I was at my ma’s. You know I turn off my phone when I’m there.”

Bucky sighed then, taking in his friend’s appearance before continuing. “We have a situation…”

The genuine concern and seriousness in his tone finally caught Steve’s attention. “What? What’s going on?”

Bucky’s confidence from earlier had disappeared. Now he was unsure of how to approach the topic.

“Buck, what is it?” Steve snapped.

“Y/N,” Bucky quickly replied. “Y/N’s here.”

Steve swore his heart dropped to his stomach. “Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

Bucky just nodded. “She showed up at your front door, soaked to the bone and shaking. She asked to see you. Said she would’ve called but she deleted your number after – well, after the last time you two saw each other.” Bucky shifted his weight. “When I tried to ask her what was going on, she wouldn’t talk.”

Steve was still processing that she was in his home. “Where is she?”

Bucky pointed to the staircase behind him with his thumb. “She’s waiting for you in your study.”

But as Steve quickly stepped by him, Bucky gently grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

“Steve, I don’t think she’s OK. She’s…different.”

It was the only warning Steve would get before he made his way to the study.

He knocked on the door twice before opening it, mostly to make sure he didn’t scare her. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even turn around when he entered.

Steve immediately noticed the suit jacket draped over her shoulders. Then he remembered that Bucky didn’t have one when he’d greeted him downstairs.

Ever so slowly, Steve stepped around the chair.

“Y/N?” He addressed her quietly.

But what he saw was not the Y/N he had said goodbye to just over a year ago.

Y/N had lost weight – too much weight. She was just skin and bones now. There were shadows under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Even though her hair was still drying from the rain, Steve knew it would not have the same shine that he still dreamed of touching.

Bucky was right about the shaking. She did a good job of hiding it, but Steve saw the slight tremble in her hands as they fidgeted in her lap.

She wouldn’t look him in the eye. Her head hung low and she stared down at her hands in her lap.

“Hi,” She muttered. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, but only for a second.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He didn’t bother asking if she was OK. It was very clear that she was not.

“Ummm…I’m sorry for barging in on your…life…like this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he stopped her gently. He slowly kneeled in front of her in hopes that he could get her to actually look at him. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on, OK?”

She finally got pulled into his gaze, losing her train of thought for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah. OK.”

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

But she shook her head immediately. “No. Bucky already asked. Thank you.”

She went silent again.

Steve didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to pressure her. But it was obvious something had gone very wrong. “How about you take a shower first? I’ll get you some dry clothes? And then maybe we can talk. How about that?”

Y/N swallowed, but said nothing.

“Y/N, you’re shivering. You’re gonna catch a cold if don’t get you out of these wet clothes.”

“O-Okay,” she finally stuttered a response.

30 minutes later, Y/N was wrapped in a robe, sitting on one of the couch’s in Steve’s living room, a giant mug of warm coffee in her grasp.

“I’m sorry about all of this. I didn’t…I didn’t know where else to go,” Y/N began. “A month or so after I…after I last saw you, my apartment building got bought by this man. I didn’t think anything of it. Never thought anyone would ever put a face to his name. But then he happened to be there one day, just hanging outside my building.”

Y/N take a deep breath, not sure how she wanted to continue. “I don’t know. He-He took a liking to me...or something.” She shook her head at how embarrassing it sounded. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to be polite and distant. But he – I quickly realized he’s a dangerous man. He’s a crook that’s clearly made a lot of money from being a bully.”

Steve clenched his jaw, but made sure he continued listening.

“His infatuation turned possessive and obsessive. His men watch the building. There’s always at least one following me. He sends me flowers to my work.” She took in a shaky breath. “My rejections didn’t upset him because he thought it was all a game. But he made one thing very clear: if he couldn’t have me, no one could.”

Steve was now trying to control his breathing.

Y/N’s eyes glazed over with tears and her bottom lip shook.

“Before I knew better, I went on a date. I thought – God, I was so stupid. I thought if he saw me with another guy, he’d just back off.”

“But he didn’t,” Steve answered for her.

She shook her head. “When he found the guy walking me home, he picked a fight. Beat him to a pulp. My date ended up being hospitalized for a month. And it was all my fault.”

“Y/N, listen to me. None of that is your fault.”

But she would never listen to such comforts.

And there was more.

“After that, things just got worse. I knew I was always being watched, being followed. I stopped seeing my friends. I stopped seeing my family. I was scared if he found out who they were, he’d use them against me – hurt them.”

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I started drinking more – more than I should. I keep calling into work sick because I’m scared to leave my apartment. I’m losing my mind.”

Her tears finally started falling as she looked at him. “I didn’t want to bring you into any of this. I just didn’t know what else to do. I know he’s friends with cops, so I couldn’t go to them. I’m sorry. I just – I’m so helpless.”

Steve couldn’t handle it anymore. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest.

“You did the right thing, coming to me. I wish you’d done it sooner,” he whispered to her.

“I deleted your number after everything. I didn’t want the… temptation? I don’t even know. I remembered where you lived. But I couldn’t – I had to make sure they didn’t follow me here.” She was talking too fast now. The tears and emotion were putting her in a frenzy.

Steve hushed her, telling her to just breathe.

It took awhile for her crying to finally subside. But that didn’t mean he loosened his hold on her at all.

“What’s his name?”

The question came out like ice. It was even, slow, but terrifyingly cold.

Y/N’s body tensed. This was the moment she’d been dreading.

She pulled away so she could look at him. “His name is Brock.”

Steve’s face darkened. “Brock?” He growled. “As in Brock Rumlow?”

Y/N looked scared from his sudden shift. “You know him?”

“Oh, I know him,” he already started to carefully shift her body out of his lap and back to the couch.

“Steve, wait!” She quickly grabbed his wrist before he could get up. “I didn’t come here to find a killer.”

He paused.

“Please,” Y/N whispered. “Don’t do what I think you’re going to. That’s not why I came to you.”

Steve literally felt sick from the confession. “Then why did you come here, Y/N?”

“I just…wanted to feel safe. I’m tired of being scared.”

It was her turn to stand up now.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked as he too shot to his feet.

“I can’t stay here.” Her eyes raced around the room wildly. “Brock. He’ll notice I’ve been gone.”

“Y/N,” Steve tried to grab her attention quietly.

She ignored him.

“Y/N!” He grabbed her shoulders.

She finally acknowledged him.

“I’m not letting you leave. Not tonight. The storm’s only getting worse.” He sighed. “I’m just…I’m not letting you leave like this, OK?”

“But–”

“When was the last time you got a full night’s rest, huh?”

Y/N blinked at the question.

“Just…stay the night. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms. I’ll take you back to your place tomorrow morning.”

“No.”

Steve brows raised. “No?”

“I’ll stay the night. But you can’t take me back to my place.”

He slowly reached for both of her hands. “Y/N, I’m not going to let him keep doing this to you.”

“You can’t kill him, Steve. I don’t want that. I’d never want that.”

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Then his eyes dimmed. “But I am going to make myself very clear.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “Just not tomorrow, OK?”

“Not tomorrow,” he repeated.

Steve showed her to one of the guest bedrooms. Of course it was the one closest to the master suite.

“I have four men stationed outside the house. There’s two security guards in the basement. Bucky’s staying the night. And I’ll be just a room over, OK?”

She nodded shyly.

“No one’s going to bother you here. You’re safe. Just get some sleep. And sleep in as long as you want tomorrow, got it?”

She nodded again.

“Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.” He started backing away from the door.

“Wait,” she called out.

He waited.

Y/N pulled him into a hug. “Thank you, Steve,” she whispered into his shoulder.

He hugged her back. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

——————————————————

When Steve awoke the next day, the guest bedroom door was open and the bed was neatly made. It was like Y/N had never been there. Steve quickened his pace as he went down the stairs, expecting to find her in the kitchen.

But only Bucky waited for him, drinking coffee and reading the paper.

“Where’s Y/N?” Steve asked.

“She left,” Bucky answered without looking up.

“Left? What the hell do you mean ‘she left’?”

Bucky finally tore his eyes away from the paper. “Look, I tried to stop her, but I wasn’t about to tackle the poor thing.”

“Did you at least put her into one of our cars?”

Bucky shook his head. “She said it would just make things worse, whatever the hell that means.”

“Christ,” Steve hissed as a hand rubbed his face.

“I did manage to give her your number, and mine. Told her to call us if she needed anything.”

Steve nodded his thanks.

“Steve, what the hell happened to her?”

“Rumlow. Rumlow is what happened to her.”

“Rumlow?” Bucky spat with disgust and disbelief. “What’d he do?”

“He got a liking to her about a year ago. And he’s been emotionally and mentally abusing her since. He watches her every move, won’t take no for an answer. He sent a guy to the hospital for just taking her on a date.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered.

“She knows he’s got connections, so she can’t go to the police.” Steve shook his head. “I realized I’ve never seen her really scared until last night.”

“So…when are we killing him?” Bucky asked.

“We can’t.”

“What the hell you mean we can’t?” Bucky fired back. “Brock’s been a pain in the ass since we started taking over this city. Hell, we’d be doing a lot of people a fuckin’ favor by tossing his corpse in the Hudson River.”

“She asked me not to, Buck.”

“Yeah, because she’s scared out of her god damn mind, Steve!”

“She doesn’t want that kind of guilt, Bucky!” Steve surprised him by yelling. “Remember what that felt like: guilt?”

“So you’re just going to throw her to the wolves?” Bucky challenged.

“Of course not. I’ll rough him up. Make it clear what will happen if he doesn’t leave her the hell alone.”

“Well, I’m not missing it. When do we leave?”

Steve shook his head. “Not until tonight. We got a lot of meetings to handle today. And I want to make sure to catch him off guard.”

Bucky nodded.

———————————-

It was hard for Steve to focus on anything. He texted Y/N multiple times, making sure she was OK. She gave one or two word answers. Distant and straightforward. She texted as if Brock was even reading her messages.

Bucky would eye him every once in awhile, fully aware that Steve was anything but present for these meetings. He couldn’t blame him though.

After a long day, the sun was just about to hit the horizon.

Steve was on one of the balconies of his house, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

He could hear Bucky walking up behind him quietly.

“Promise me something?” Steve asked.

“Anything.”

“Don’t let me get carried away.” It was code for ‘don’t let me kill him.’

Bucky hesitated. “I promise.”

“She’ll know. And then she’ll never look at me the same way.”

Before Bucky could say anything more, Steve’s cellphone started ringing.

As soon as he saw Y/N’s name on the screen, he picked up.

“Y/N?”

But Steve was immediately met with sobbing. He locked eyes with Bucky, showing his panic.

“Y/N! Y/N, I need you to breathe, OK? Just breathe. Calm down. Just calm down and tell me what happened.”

She did as she was told, forcing Steve to hear the struggles to control herself and fight her way out of the panic attack.

“He k-k-knew, Steve. He knew something was up. Then he-he grabbed my phone,” she inhaled shakily. “He saw your messages…” Her words died down.

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Y/N, did he hurt you?”

Y/N only responded with the sniffles she couldn’t control.

“Y/N, did he touch you?”

But she wouldn’t answer.

“Steve, please just come get me.”

————————————-

Bucky was driving the SUV through the streets of Manhattan like a madman. Two other cars tailed them, filled with Steve’s most loyal men.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Steve hissed as he stared out the windshield.

“Don’t get sloppy, Steve. I know this is personal. But you don’t want any of this shit falling back on her.”

“I know,” Steve replied.

He was almost disturbingly calm.

Which actually made Bucky more worried.

The SUV had barely even stopped before Steve threw open the door.

He instantly spotted one of Rumlow’s men, loitering outside the entrance to the building. Steve could recognize a goon with his eyes closed.

“Hey!” He barked. “You work for Rumlow?”

The man didn’t answer, just immediately fumbled for what Steve could only assume was a gun.

But he was too slow.

Steve swung and knocked him unconscious and off his feet in one hit. He reached down for the man’s gun and dismantled the pieces, tossing the stray bullets into the bushes.

The lock of the entrance couldn’t hold a harsh shove from Steve, easily granting him access to the building.

He heard Bucky barking orders to his men before he hurried to catch up to him.

Steve mentally told himself to calm down when he got to Y/N’s door. The last thing he needed was to scare her just as much as Brock did.

He knocked three times. “Y/N, it’s me. I’m coming in, OK?”

The door was unlocked. Steve slowly on entered.

The kitchen was empty. So was the living room.

“Y/N?” Steve called out carefully.

Bucky was checking all the blind spots, a gun ready in his grasp.

Steve was starting to get worried when he didn’t find her in the bedroom.

But then he heard the whimpers coming from the bathroom.

“Y/N,” he gasped before he hurrying to her.

He froze when he got a good look at her.

She was tucked against the foot of the bathtub, arms hugging her legs tightly to her chest.

Her nose had dried blood underneath it. Her lip was split. There was a red mark on her right cheek that he knew would turn a concerning purple in a day or two. Mascara was smudged underneath her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered under his breath before bending down to her level.

She seemed to cower at the intrusion, backing up against the tub as if there was anywhere else for her to go.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise,” Steve whispered.

She nodded, snapping out of it and realizing that she knew she could trust him.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“I’m not – I don’t know,” she admitted with embarrassment.

When she did try, her legs were shaking like she was a newborn deer learning how to walk.

But before she could fall, Steve was at her side, picking her up in his arms.

“I gotcha,” he whispered. “I gotcha. You’re safe. OK? You’re safe.”

She nodded as she tucked her face into his shoulder.

As he carried her down to her car, he found more bruises and cuts. The more he saw, the angrier he got.

Finally, Steve turned to Bucky.

As their eyes met, they had a silent conversation.

Steve carefully handed Y/N over. “Take her to the hospital. Don’t leave her side.”

Bucky held Y/N like she would break from the slightest pressure. “Let me come with you,” he tried to argue.

“No. Look after her. Keep her safe.”

Bucky looked worried, but he knew better than to argue with Steve, especially when he was in such a state.

Y/N’s head shot up when she suddenly realized what was happening. “Steve, please. Don’t. Don’t leave me.”

Steve leaned over to her, brushing some hair from her face.

“I promise I’ll be back. There’s something I gotta do. Bucky will look after you.”

And before Y/N could fight him on it, Steve was getting into a car with his men.

-----

It was only a few hours later that Steve returned to a dark house.

He heard the click of a gun and turned on the light to find Bucky pointing one at him.

Bucky instantly lowered it. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Is she…?”

“She’s OK. Doc says nothing’s broken. Told her to ice everything. They gave her some pain medication. She’s just gotta take it easy.” Bucky sighed. “She’s upstairs.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Buck.”

“You might want to…clean up before you see her,” Bucky advised carefully.

Steve was suddenly brought back to reality and looked down at himself.

His white button down was now more red than it was white. His skin was also stained with the color. His knuckles were split and bruised.

“Did you make sure he paid for it?” Bucky asked emptily.

Steve gave a slight nod. “It was slow.”

He turned to go upstairs.

Steve expected to find Y/N in the same guest bedroom. But Y/N was asleep in his personal bed.

Steve listened to Bucky’s advice, and took as quick and as quiet of a shower as possible. He made sure to wash away all the blood, leaving no trace. But he knew he couldn’t wash away the sins.

When he slipped into bed, Y/N arouse from her sleep.

She turned to face him, still sleepy.

“Didn’t expect to find you in my bed,” Steve whispered with a little playfulness.

“It smells like you,” Y/N confessed with a blush. “Bucky said you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Then he couldn’t stop taking in all the cuts and bruises. Her nose looked better now that all the blood had been cleaned away. “Are you OK?”

She nodded. “I’m better now.”

Then she grabbed his hands, inspecting his cut and bruised knuckles. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“Steve, what did you–”

“Y/N, don’t.” He warned. “We can never talk about it. After tonight, we forget all of it.” His eyes were serious. “Nothing happened. You hear me? Nothing.”

“Why did you risk all of this for me?” Y/N breathed.

“You know why, Y/N.”

She couldn’t speak.

“Because I loved you, Y/N. And I still love you,” he told her. “And I know that if I had just stayed that morning, then you… then none of this would’ve happened.”

“That’s not how life works and you know it, Steve. This isn’t your fault.”

“All I ever thought I could do was put you in danger. It never occurred to me that I could’ve been the thing that kept you safe.”

Y/N scooted closer, wanting to be held by him.

Steve complied, kissing the top of her head. “Can you still love me? After seeing what I really am, is that possible?”

“You think I could ever think you a monster after you made sure that the world was short of a man like Brock?”

Steve stayed silent.

“You think you’re so evil, Steve. But the truth is that I’ve never met a man who has a heart like you. Even before all of this shit, even before I knew who you really were… I knew I’d never meet another man like you.”

She could feel his heartbeat through his chest.

“So, yes, I can still love you.”

Steve let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Can we stop running away from each other now?” Y/N breathed.

She pulled back to stare into his blue eyes.

“Yeah, we can stop running, Y/N.” He told her before gently kissing her lips.

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

Don't say I never did anything for you. 😏

#mobster!steve rogers #mobster!steve rogers au #mobster!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers au #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers au #mafia!steve rogers x reader #gangster!steve rogers #gangster!steve rogers x reader #gangster!steve rogers au #invisible anonymous monsters #invisibleanonymousmonsters

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greycappedjester · 3 years

Note

If this isn’t a spoiler, how would you rank characters in your hogwarts series on dueling? It can be any and how many characters you’d like to rank, I was just curious, and I’ve always loved the dueling aspect of Harry Potter😁

Hmmmm, good question, I often ask myself who in the series is the most potentially dangerous. This isn’t quite that list but

Top 7 Best Dueling Students (as of the start of the fourth)*

Yeah, yeah, a lot of them are the main characters; but, to be fair, they have had the most practice in life or death situations and have the bonus of training with each other more often tan not.

1.) Oikawa--Oikawa really is naturally powerful; but, I think he would only have ranked around the maybe like top 10% in power except for the fact that he borderline to way-past-borderline obsessed over working on his magic and learning everything he could about it. It’s training and cunning even more than natural aptitude

2.) Daishou--To his dueling partners’ eternal frustration actually is really good at dueling and has been practicing at it since before Hogwarts.

3.) Nametsu--Because I like her and she’s a Ravenclaw that specializes in hardcore defense spells and takes up spell experimentation in her free time. Most likely to take up Dueling Captain position in two years.

4.) Kuroo--great at formulating strategies and has a good base of magical knowledge to fall back on, fairly powerful but not insane about it.

5.) Iwaizumi--moderately powerful, specializes in defense, hard to knock down, and is excellent at cooperation in strategy

6.) Hinata--very, very powerful, far less trained

7.) Tsukishima--excellent strategist and defensive duelist, hates that he’s on this list because it’s partly due to that he’s partnered with Hinata frequently which he loathes.

A lot of the characters are decent to good duelists; but, I’d say these are the best. If I had to pick an eighth, I’d say Tanaka (less great partner pairings in his year so less practice), Terushima (for being crazy unpredictable), or Misaki (for being terrifyingly persistent). The dueling partners everyone despises to be up against are Matsukawa and Hanamaki, not because they’re great but because they’ll make sure you hate every second of it and come out of it with a huge headache. Every day the student body takes a collective sigh of relief that they begged out of the Dueling elective in favor of Astronomy (because they get a free pass to be in the halls during the night).

*Not including Beauxbatons and Durmstrang because that would get messy quick. Top Durmstrang are Ushijima and Tendou (I truthfully think Tendou’s better at real life/non-regulated dueling while Ushijima sticks closer to rules).

On why Hinata is lower, it’s because it’s the list at the START of the fourth. By the end...well, that should be more obvious by then. At the start of the fourth, he basically got as high as he is on raw power alone. He still is a very good dueling partner with Tsukishima (Hinata on attack and disruption, Tsukishima towards very aggressive defense). But, they hate that fact so very, very much.

Side note: Best healing student of the main characters is undoubtedly Asahi, followed a good bit after by Suga and Noya.

Side note #2: If I get a chance to go into it later, I really would love to explore the spell invention/modification side of canon and how it can be applied to dueling. Like there’s some spells in Harry Potter that can obviously be shortened (like Finite Incantem to Finite) which seems like a really useful thing to know how to do when dueling.

Thanks for the ask!

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its-jijii · 4 years

Text

i’m scared of tanizaki junichirou

welcome to me theorizing and questioning the tanizaki siblings cause they honestly kinda scare me. everything im talking about has already been animated in s3 but warning for spoilers if u haven’t seen it yet.

hi okay well i’ll start off with the eyes. harukawa has explained this so i’m sure most people know of it, but if you don’t, eyes = danger/morality. characters with darker eyes are more dangerous or “evil”, and characters with light eyes are more innocent. i personally think something is off with naomi’s eyes. also if you wanna skip reading about eyes go ahead

in comparison to mafia members or ex-mafia members, naomi doesn’t stand out that much. it’s true that her pupil isn’t large and dark, like kyouka or kenji, and her eyes don’t have any kind of shading or rings.

however, if you were to only look at ADA members with more narrowed eyes, naomi’s starts to stand out. her iris has thicker lining and touches the bottom of her eye (ranpos also do but hes squinting 24/7). her pupil is bigger than others, too. without harukawa’s stated stylistic choices, her eyes being like this wouldn’t have much significance.

buuut i wouldn’t be talking about it if it were normal. considering naomi’s role, her eyes are uncomfortably dark. she’s supposedly a student and part time office worker. fukuzawa worked as a government assassin in the past. kunikida isn’t evil, but he is physically capable and dangerous. even her brother has lighter eyes. why are naomi’s eyes darker, indicative of evil or danger, than that of other dangerous ADA members? she has no ability from our knowledge.

for a nonviolent, non-combative character, naomi’s eyes pretty dark. i can’t help but think she is hiding something.

beyond naomi’s unusually dark eyes, there’s the subject matter of the sibling’s relationship. not the incest part. something is clearly off between them- their willingness to do anything for each other is what is off-putting. naomi jumping in front of her brother to save him? not unusual. tanizaki willing to commit murder for his sister’s sake? woah there, hold on a sec

there is normally a line you would draw in what you would do for your sibling(s). for someone who is supposedly on the good side, that’s an extreme measure to take. and unfortunately it isn’t just tanizaki threatening to hurt people who hurt naomi- he has literally attempted to kill people to protect her or get revenge.

first there was him choking higuchi, where if akutagawa hadn’t interrupted him, he probably would’ve killed her. secondly, when rescuing naomi and haruno from the guild, he intentionally used his ability to attempt to kill the guild members by getting them hit by a truck.

i’m led to believe that this love and dedication between them is mutual. naomi is protective of her brother and frequently follows him around. if she had any combative skills or ability, she would likely be using them to protect tanizaki. assuming this is the case, i wonder what caused their relationship to escalate to this point. for both of them to be so close that they would commit murder, throw away all morals and self preservation- i can’t see a normal sibling relationship getting to that point. technically they’re not that normal but you get the point.

aside from their actions proving their dedication to each other, there’s what they’ve said about the relationship. particularly, what tanizaki said about what naomi means to him during his conflict with the guild.

sorry for low quality screenshots. they’re from chapter 22

well, here we go. for starters, eyes again- tanizaki normally has pretty light eyes. however, when he speaks seriously about naomi in these panels, his eyes are always considerably darker. he is more dangerous, and as he said, willing to throw away all morals.

then there’s the god thing. he says that he can’t compare his love or willingness for naomi with anything. the example he uses is that “nobody would compare god with anything, right?” the way this is phrased strongly suggests that to him, naomi is akin to a god. highly revered, dutifully loved and willing to do anything, and that she can’t be compared to anything. she can’t be compared to other people, or concepts, or anything- to him, naomi is godlike and her importance is unquestionable.

lastly, there’s him saying that he would gladly reduce the world to ashes for naomi. at this point, there’s little doubt in the reader’s mind that he means this. he is very, very serious in what he would do for naomi. this kind of obsession and worship must have stemmed from somewhere or something. something must have happened for tanizaki in particular to act this way. but alas asagiri hasn’t given me jack shit so i have no idea what

tanizaki is scary beyond his loyalty to his sister, though. his ability, and what he said in chapter three. he doesn’t have a flashy or amazing ability, and it isn’t used in combat. this is true. of course there are other creative ways tanizaki has utilized his ability, but it is limited. in another post i discussed ability classifications in bsd. light snow falls under the non-combative category.

tanizaki’s ability itself cannot hurt people. his ability can affect himself, others, and his surroundings, but making illusions can’t hurt people. so, given this fact and the fact that he said that he is non-combative, i find his actions strange. other ADA members have either training in combat (kuni, fuku) or their ability gives them a strength boost (atsu, kenji, kyouka, etc).

he hasn’t shown any knowledge of martial arts, and his ability is one of the few that can’t injure other people. so,,,, how did this man stand up to the three black lizard commanders on his own? he nearly successfully killed mori. he nearly killed higuchi. and though he physically didn’t do much, he did incapacitate two formidable guild members.

it’s true that most of these involved using his ability to disguise himself or his surroundings. however, he seems very, very adept at using his ability in these unconventional ways. maybe he’s just creative and good at thinking up tactics. buuut given that most of these instances involve him attempting murder, i have to wonder how he is so used to using his ability to assassinate or trick others. for a non-combative person, he seems preetttty violent

bonus that in most of these scenes, his eyes are very dark. sometimes they revolve around protecting naomi, and sometimes they revolve around infiltrating and assassinating the boss of the port mafia.

in conclusion i’m scared of tanizaki junichirou. naomi is suspicious and lowkey shady af, but i have not seen her act as drastically and terrifyingly as tanizaki has. thanks for coming to my ted talk i’ve been writing this for like three hours and now its four am. bye thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #bungou stray dogs manga #bsd tanizaki #tanizaki junichirou #tanizaki naomi #naomi tanizaki #junichirou tanizaki #bsd analysis #tanizaki analysis #bsd theory #???#idk what this is #kinda bsd spoilers

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atalana · 5 years

Text

Five, and the effects of Reginald Hargreeves' parenting

So like, I see a lot of posts around talking about the effects Hargreeves had on all the kids, the abuse they went through, and who they turned out to be, but a lot of the time when they get to Five this gets somewhat overshadowed by his experiences in the apocalypse, since that's what he's shown to have PTSD over, and is generally on the forefront of Five's mind

But the effects of Five's childhood are hugely evident in his character for me (potentially bc I've been through similar, just to a lesser extent), so I wanna go into them more

Here's the thing - kids can't help but want approval from their parents, even kids like Five. He can mask it in whatever he likes, but as a kid, Five was hugely dependent on Hargreeves' approval. It's more insidious than with most children, too, because when Reginald Hargreeves is involved, gaining his approval means avoiding his wrath - something you definitely don't want to face.

You see this all the time in kids with parents who have too high standards, even if the parents are considerably more gentle than Sir Reginald - the kids who can achieve to that standard become obsessed with it, turn it into their whole identity, while the kids who can't stop trying at all. And this harms both, because the underachievers feel like they'll never amount to anything, and the overachievers become paranoid, knowing they're one bad day away from becoming like the underachievers - the people they've been taught their whole life are the worst possible thing to be - so they try even harder to make sure that never happens.

The overachievers in the Hargreeves family are Luther, Diego, and Five, the underachievers are Klaus and Vanya (Allison and Ben it's hard to tell, maybe they managed to avoid this or maybe it just manifests in different ways), and this constantly affects all of their relationships with each other.

Reginald actively encouraged this discrepancy as well, because it made it easier to control them. The underachievers don't try anything because they believe they have no power. The overachievers won't try anything because one word of disapproval from Reginald and they lose that status, and with it their entire sense of identity and self worth. They can't band together either, because the underachievers think they amount to nothing, the underachievers don't trust the overachievers because they maintain the same standards, the overachievers don't trust each other because they're all competing for the same status, and the overachievers don't listen to the underachievers because they believe the lie that the underachievers can't do anything. It's a terrifyingly effective strategy.

There's yet another layer with the Hargreeves kids, though, and that's their numbers. This was another deliberate move on the part of Sir Reginald, because a hierarchy only adds to this dynamic.

Number one was superior to number two, who was superior to number three, and so on. It's not a coincidence that the overachievers tend to be higher up on the scale, and the underachievers lower. It's easier to excel when you believe you can do it, harder when you think you can't. And the further down the hierarchy you are, the more you're held to the standard of the ones above you.

So now we get to Five in particular, because Five is a special case - an overachiever very low on the hierarchy. He was constantly held to the standard of numbers 1-4, but Five could actually outperform them. And this was encouraged by their father - Reginald would have realised early on that telling Five he wasn't capable wouldn't have worked, because Five had proof he was, it would have only made him more rebellious (see: the reason he ran off in the first place).

So instead he creates an air of superiority in Five that's highly conditional and dependent on him. Five isn't like his siblings. Five can do better. Five gets praise. Which doesn't seem harmful until you realise, Five has to do better. Five doesn't have the option of an off day. Five has built his entire identity around being the best, because as a young child that was the only way he got anything close to the love and attention he needed, and as soon as he fails to outperform his siblings, he's going to lose that forever.

(It also probably contributed to a lot of that cocky attitude - if he ever did have a moment of weakness, he couldn't let anyone see, or it would discredit him, so he covers it up with the whole devil may care thing)

It's pretty obvious in Five's reactions to things that the siblings he got along with best were Ben and Vanya - 6 and 7. I don't think it was a conscious decision to be closer to the two lower on the hierarchy than him, but I also don't think it's a coincidence either - after all, he's never going to be held to their standard like he is the other four. With anyone above him in the ranking, there would have been a tension in their relationship, the knowledge that they were being compared, and Five would have to be constantly on guard for that. Around Ben and Vanya, he can actually breathe, and that makes it a lot easier for him to appreciate the qualities they have as people.

There's two moments in this season where Five's siblings genuinely get under his skin, and force him from exasperated to defensive, and both of them are hugely telling of this. The first is when Luther tells him "You think you're better than us, you always have. But the truth is, you're just as messed up as the rest of us."

Luther's completely right, but there's two things here Five can't handle hearing. Even after 45 years alone in the apocalypse, this is a core part of his identity he can't shake. One is "you think you're better than us", the implication that that's not true. The other is "you're just as messed up as the rest of us", making Five confront the realisation that he has flaws. Five responds "I don't think I'm better than you, Number One. I know I am."

He even refers to Luther by number, the only time in the series he ever does this to anyone. It's a deliberate jab, a way to remind Luther than even though he was supposedly number one, Five still managed to outperform him. It's honestly a really childish move, because it's Five frantically scrambling to get back on a pedestal he's been on his whole life - and not a very stable one either, if one comment from Luther can bring it down. Five believes he's perfect, infallible, because he can't live with himself if he's not.

The second time comes from the same root but the other direction - his conversation with Klaus in episode 9. Klaus calls him an apocalypse addict, comparing the two of them, and Five internally freaks the fuck out, because of all the siblings he can't handle being similar to, Klaus is the top of that list. If Luther was the golden boy Five constantly had to compete against, Klaus is the dumpster fire that serves to remind Five this is what he can never become.

Klaus, of course, is just a person, and has many good qualities, but Five was never trained to see them. Five was trained to see Klaus as a failure, a disappointment, someone it was better to be dead than to be like. (He may be nearly double the age of the rest of his siblings, but alone in the apocalypse isn't an ideal ground for reexamining your relationships with people, and Five still has so much growing up to do.)

Of all of them, Five is the most willing to push boundaries with his powers, to explore new realms of what he can and can't do, and that's also an effect of this - where the others were a lot more controlled or restricted, Five was encouraged to adapt, to be more powerful, to take risks, and Hargreeves probably allowed him more leeway than the others (again, fuelling that sense of superiority), as long as it provided results (and there's the paranoia part, the risks Five took needed to pay off, he didn't have any other option)

Credit to Five though, because the time travel scene was all him. Reginald's influence should have been enough to keep him from running off like that, but Five had a strong enough will to ignore it.

I think this is the mistake the Handler made as well. The Temps Commission employs people easy to manipulate, and a childhood of abuse followed by a lifetime of solitude sounds like the perfect breeding ground for such a person. If she just wanted Five she could have retrieved him at any age, after all, but she waits 45 years. His skills weren't increasing that much in that time, not more than they would have been working for the Commission. It was just that the longer he was alone, the easier he was to control.

But neither Hargreeves nor the Handler really anticipated just how stubborn and steadfast Five can be. He's affected by his childhood, yes, it forms the core of who he is as a person, but he's smart, and he found a way around it - picking a goal and sticking to it no matter what. Klaus was right, in a way, about him being an addict of the apocalypse, Five gets dangerous tunnel vision with a task in mind. He literally admits to Hazel that not once (in 45 years, with precious few distractions) did he think about what he would do after he stopped the apocalypse, focused only on doing it. He doesn't let anything else through, and that can be a detriment sometimes (not telling his siblings about the shrapnel wound and nearly dying because they were close to his goal), but when someone's trying to manipulate you, it's a huge advantage. (It's also a huge advantage when trying to survive in the apocalypse, you don't stop, you don't doubt yourself, you don't question what you are and aren't willing to do, you just do it and move on)

He broke through Hargreeves' control by focusing on learning to time travel, and he's unaffected by the Handler's attempts to do the same with his one goal of getting back and saving his family. She doesn't understand it either, because all she sees are his other traits - his pragmatism, his intelligence, his dissatisfaction with his own body image, and thinks if she can make him look how he wants to look ("we're all looking for happy"), that'll be enough to let his natural affinity for Commission work take over. She vastly underestimates his dedication.

(And also just his love for his siblings, like, I'm framing this potentially too much as a "he does this so he can't be manipulated" decision, and there is some truth to that, but if that were solely the case he'd only be focused on stopping the apocalypse. No, Five cares so much about his siblings that he's willing to compromise with them on nearly everything, even though stubbornness is kind of his thing, and even though he's been trained to believe they're lesser than him. He seriously debates letting the apocalypse happen if it'll save them. The reason they get under his skin (when other people underestimating him don't nearly as much), is because some part of him genuinely values their opinion. Five says he's not looking for happy, but I don't think that's true - it's just that happy for him isn't made of personal gain, but rather finding a place in his family he doesn't have to fight for)

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #reginald hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #tua meta #words #i am rapidly becoming a five blog #can't wait for that fateful day when we reach five singularity and then its all five all the time #in my defence #i love him

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ilikecowsnstuff · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7!!!

SUMMARY: UA Hero Course - Third Year. Shigaraki Tomura and Dabi have been classmates and rivals since their very first day at UA. But with new feelings developing how will they cope given their history of fragile and often violent encounters? Their dance begins after a partnered training exam goes wrong, leaving Shigaraki wounded and Dabi feeling guilty. AU.

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For AO3 – Click Here

For FanFiction – Click Here

====================

CHAPTER SEVEN - TRANSFER STUDENT

“My hand hurts.” Shigaraki complained, although he said it without inflection, like he didn’t really care that he was in pain, just stating it as a fact.

Kurogiri cared, however. He drew his brows together and reached over to gently take Shigaraki’s hand, so he could check if the other boy had really damaged himself, before seeming to think better of it. Shigaraki didn’t need the coddling, nor did he want it, so Kurogiri retracted the gesture with a sigh.

Fortunately, Shigaraki’s eyes were closed so he hadn’t witnessed Kurogiri’s hesitance. He was soaking up the little bit of sun that had managed to break through the clouds, sprawled out on one of the benches in the school yard, his right arm draped over the edge carelessly.

“Probably shouldn’t have punched Tamaki in the face.”

“Worth it.” Shigaraki flexed his fingers, opening and then closing his hands into fists, stretching out the joints and then cracking his knuckles.

Kurogiri nodded, looking sympathetic. Then sufficiently annoyed. Takami was a good student, Kurogiri had even considered him a friend once upon a time. He had no reason to hate the blond bird-boy, but because he knew Shigaraki didn’t get along with him, Kurogiri had decided not to trust him either. He tried to not let it bother him, but sometimes it was just too much. Like their little spat during the fire alarm. It was unnecessary, and it put all of the students involved in a precarious position.

“You’re not off the hook yet.” Kurogiri stubbornly replied, crunching his soda can and binning it, “Takami might talk.”

“No, he won’t.” Shigaraki replied confidently.

“He’s the type.” Kurogiri added.

Shigaraki was quiet for a moment, then opened his eyes and blinked up to the sky. Kurogiri was right. Takami was the type to snitch but he also wasn’t an idiot. Currently they were standing on equal ground - a hit for an insult. Fair was fair. The blond wouldn’t tip the scales now, not for a damn good reason anyway. That’s how they maintained a mostly cordial relationship day to day. Balance.

“Heads up, you have a visitor.” Kurogiri informed from the other side of the bench.

“Hi.”

Shigaraki turned his head slightly and squinted up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. His head and shoulders were blocking out his sun, but Shigaraki recognized the black mask hiding a good portion of a very angular face. It was the new kid.

“What’s up?” Shigaraki greeted, sitting up on the bench. He pulled his foot up to rest on the seat and idly draped his arm over his bent knee.

“Can I sit with you?”

Shigaraki jerked his head to the empty space beside him, silently offering the dark-haired boy a seat, red eyes glowing beneath the shadow of the dark hood that was pulled over his head.

“Thanks,” He returned before plopping down next to Shigaraki and nodding his head in greeting to Kurogiri. “You’re a hard man to find.”

“Not if you know where to look.” Shigaraki digressed.

“Mmm.” Kai murmured, seemingly in agreement, “So. UA High. Fun morning. So far, it’s not what I expected from the most prestigious Hero School in the country.”

“Meaning?” Shigaraki challenged, his eyes narrowing.

Kai reeled back slightly. He hadn’t noticed how striking Shigaraki’s eyes were until that moment. Now that he was up close and personal with the blue-grey haired boy, he thought they were terrifyingly beautiful. And, admittedly, having them fixed solely on him did make him feel a little uneasy. Not enough to retreat, of course, but still edgy.

Kai tugged his medical face mask down, away from his nose and mouth to rest at his chin and he smirked, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. “A lot less chaos, and a lot more… order.”

Shigaraki remained stoic, his head tilting slightly to the side.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleasantly surprised.” Kai declared, taking a moment to appraise Shigaraki’s unheralded appearance.

Immediately, he noticed a couple of things. The dark circles beneath Shigaraki’s red eyes suggested that the boy didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, which only made Kai more curious. And the long scar that cut vertically down the center of his right eye gave him a certain harshness, as did the many other less visible ones. Shigaraki didn’t look like a hero, and he certainly didn’t carry himself like one either. Kai knew looks could be deceiving but there was something about Shigaraki, something that hinted at a darker side, and witnessing the fight with Tamaki earlier was a reliable indication that Kai was right about that.

What was someone like Shigaraki doing at UA?

He shifted his gaze to Kurogiri then back to his sudden obsession, “You know, I didn’t think UA was the right school for me, too stuffy, too good, I didn’t really want to be here. But you,” Kai snickered, long dark lashes sweeping downwards, “Watching you beat down that little blond dick, well, you changed my mind in less than a minute.”

Shigaraki’s eye twitched, and he lifted his hand to scratch at his irritated neck.

“Between us,” He leaned closer, whispering, “If you hadn’t punched him when you did, I definitely would have. He’s a real piece of work.”

“For fucks sake.” Kurogiri cursed. “Do not encourage him!” He grumbled from the other side of the bench, and his closed fist slammed down against the tabletop. “He’s already in enough shit as it is.”

“Heh.” Kai grinned. “So Takami is also a rat?”

The corner of Shigaraki’s mouth kicked up, amused.

“That’s not…” Kurogiri shook his head and then abruptly got to his feet, “I’m going to class.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. And he thought he was supposed to be the dramatic one.

Kai watched the other boy go, grinning to himself. “So, did he rat you out?”

“Nah,” Shigaraki shook his head offhandedly, scratching again at his neck, “I was already on Mr. Aizawa’s shit list.”

Kai was even more curious, but thought it wasn’t the best time to pry further, Shigaraki would have elaborated if he wanted too. He tugged his black mask back up to cover his mouth and nose.

“What’s with the mask?” Shigaraki asked, “You sick or something?”

Kai snorted a laugh, “Call it, OCD.”

“Don’t like germs, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Shigaraki nodded, eyeing Kai with suspicion before looking away. He seemed to be as curious with Kai, as Kai was with him. Curious, yet still cautious. The new kid seemed to be on the same wavelength as him, imperturbable but still receptive. And what Takami had said earlier, about Kai having a similar quirk to him, Shigaraki hadn’t thought about it until now, but was interested. That combined with his sudden appearance at UA High, got him thinking. Why would someone transfer in their final year?

Shigaraki shifted his glance back to Kai. The other boy was watching him intently.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here.” Shigaraki began, “You didn’t just transfer to UA High, did you?”

Kai chuckled. Dark, low. “What makes you think that?”

“I’m just adding numbers together.”

“Clever.” Kai flicked his gold eyes up to meet Shigaraki’s unswervingly, “It was not by choice, not mine anyway.”

Shigaraki’s brows knit tightly together. He wanted to know more but knew better than to ask. He knew a thing or two about the merits of trust and learned at a very young age that trust did not come cheap. If Kai was in fact anything like him, as he suspected, it had to be earned.

“But you know what?” He added just as the bell rang, as sharp and shrill as ever, signalling the end of their all-to-brief lunch period.

“What do you know?” Shigaraki asked, passive, lip twitching.

“I know that I already like it better here.” He divulged, and then slid away, grabbing his bag on his way back up to his feet. “Maybe we can be friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“But none like me.” Kai bargained and took a few slow steps backwards. He seemed to take a moment to consider Shigaraki before turning away and heading towards the main UA building. He threw his arm up, waving in adieu. “See you in class.”

Shigaraki watched him go, disquisitive, but not nearly as eager to get back to class. He needed some time to ponder the mysterious new transfer student and what his motives were. Maybe he didn’t have any and legitimately wanted to make friends at UA. Shigaraki had his doubts of course but didn’t want to judge Kai too soon.

====================

Chapter One – Accidental Attraction

Chapter Two – After Care

Chapter Three – Dazed and Confused

Chapter Four – I Like You

Chapter Five - Friends and Enemies

Chapter Six - Confrontation!

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jugs-and · 4 years

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climb.run.hike (a la eat.pray.love)

G-d saw all that he had made, and it was very good. - Genesis 1

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I don’t know how to write anymore. I’m 27 now, but writing, blog writing specifically, has been habitually part of my life since I was 14. Writing is very much a muscle which needs to be worked at and maintained. To say the least it all used to flow, and the process of writing, more than the actual writing output, was an essential part of how I unwinded from the happenings of life. I’ve missed this, it has sort of fallen off the radar this year, and the narrative have swirled around in my mind. For the moment, the editing process seems to garble and confuse, more than clarify and expand the language which I employ. The feelings and emotions in myself - I can’t just describe. This is about the fourth or fifth time I’ve written this post.

The final four weeks before Christmas have been pure routine. Drifting, dilly-dallying, floating - I have fully embraced my inner alter-ego lifestyle which laid dormant this year. This other-me who leaves work early, and plays video-games late, and eats and imbibes freely. It is quite the contrast to the past six months of regiment and focus, the past few weeks have been completely restful, reinvigorating and refreshing - and, frankly, quite welcome. In all of my limited existence (27 years <gulp>), I don’t think I’ve ever been so busy or occupied in my life as this past six months.

I have a hard time letting go because the final few weeks of the year have still been exceedingly busy. The last weekend in Auckland, I hopped between four Christmas parties on Saturday and Sunday, and finished with a late night working on Sunday. In all of these social gatherings, I was faced with many questions about my year, and I spent a lot of time recounting my adventures this second half of 2019. At Anna’s 30th birthday party especially, I hadn’t seen her in months, and the conversation is always tragically short when she is that popular.

Social-jugs can handle the small-talk conversations at parties, however vapid and soul-crushing, but it was the mental mind contortions regarding finances and relationships which slowly eroded my sanity. The past six months has not just been the normal event after event after event, but it was like each event was suffocating on my own sanity. The way that money was constantly at the mind’s forefront would affect my ability to enjoy life. Restless sleep counting money instead of sheep, while my mind was full of shopping lists and balance sheets brought me no rest. The nights were long where I would replay conversations and then drift to semi-conscious dreams of impossible segues and circumstances.

The second half of this year was, in one word, bizarre, with A-. I was increasingly frustrated and filled with despair. For someone with a infectiously sunny disposition, she’s very good at pushing people away. Her continued longing for her previous boyfriend who was clearly abusive and emotionally manipulative broke my heart. Really.

I began to pine for the peaceful activities - I need the hiking alone and terrible renditions of my favourite nostalgic songs with a Bob Dylan rasp. I need the moment where I wake up and lazily watch the sandflies dancing on the tent fly. I need the Saturday morning brunches and afternoons laying in bed till the evening hours reading in a foetal position. I need to walk through the supermarket in my pyjamas and nights refreshing the same webpages as if the news that the world has ended would drop at any moment. I miss the pull of the dark corners of clubs where I move with my eyes shut, hair swaying in front of my face. Just normal things (right?!).

I learned discipline and perseverance in financial matters - I tell myself that because, otherwise, 2019: Part Two ran me ragged. I longed for the days to just climb under the sheets and draw them over my head as if I could avoid the problems in life just for a moment and just be. Climb under the sheets and maybe stay there for a while, instead of falling asleep into dreamless sleep immediately.

In November, I took my big holiday of the year: two weeks in the South Island -- a mountain-climbing course with Colin, and hiking by myself in the second week. During this time, I realized just how complex and busy the six months prior were. Hiking, in contrast, is simple. It is just one foot in front of another, and a simple existence of self-sustenance. Without the noise of information everywhere, there is just the conversations inside my head when hiking alone. There is only the crinkle of your own sleeping bag and never moment of loneliness in the solitude. Somewhere during the nine hour sleeps and genuinely feeling exhausted more than I can ever remember - I realised I haven’t had the time to appreciate this year for what it was worth and how much I have to proud of.

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As someone who has frequented the climbing walls at least twice a week for the past 6 months, I am still terrible at rock-climbing. Granted, my frequency and motivation for climbing, really does wax and wane like the moon. And lately, as my main source of exercise, due to this knee injury, it has been waxing. Nevertheless, I never really saw the improvement I would expect someone else to have with the frequency and focus on the sport. To a large degree, the social element of climbing really brought me back repeatedly to the same crags. We spent many Sunday afternoons and evenings just chatting and doing very little actual climbing. But we were each other’s greatest cheerleaders in finding every little scrap of willpower and confidence to hold on to the little scraps protruding from the wall.

Sometimes you have to remind yourself to breathe before a big move and just stick it. Sometimes you have to remind yourself to look down and see how terrifyingly high you are. Sometimes you have to take a break and shake the blood back into your hands.

I learned it is okay to fail.

As someone who falls a lot, I can confirm that the falling gives me confidence because it means that I believed in myself enough, albeit maybe too much. I backed myself to make a move with confidence. The next attempt meant that I could attempt more and grow more in strength and resolve. The second time up would assuredly be better with experience, and there is a certain relief where you finally accomplish the right contortion of body to get past a section.

Trad. climbing still terrifies me, but even with sport climbing and lead roping, it is still a delicate affair. Gathering at the bottom of a crag, checking each other’s knots, and double checking I locked the carabiner around my harness bell - it is a solemn routine. It’s a more serious sport and there is a lot more faith in each other and self-belief required in the equipment and process. Outside, the falls are bigger and the fall is a couple of metres to the last anchor point, which can be more than a moment in the air. I can only just breathe and trust in others to catch me. If climbing was an analogy for life, they would be my support system.

Beyond climbing, I have found that people are a lot more compassionate, kind and exceedingly more patient than we can ever expect from someone like ourselves. If friends are ever an indication of the type of person we are, the bounds which feel almost endless, I am climbing far beyond my own character.

At the top of an outdoor crag, I learned self-confidence.

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The Saint Heliers turnaround is the moment of reckoning and Armageddon. The entire way out to Saint Helier, it’s pulsing through my mind that I’d have to return this path and retrace my steps to finish. The people ahead of me are on the other side of the road, returning to the finish line, looking worse for wear. The turnaround is where the final nine kilometers starts, and the mind resets and forgets about the previous 33km which should have been easy-going.

At this point, the race really starts to feel like a marathon. No amount of training prior could prepare for the tortures and endurance of this section. If I could describe the feeling - it’s like trying to spread peanut butter on toast from an empty jar. The opening to the jar is tiny, only enough for a butter knife to fit inside, and it continues to scrape the bottom of the jar. The bottom of the jar makes a screeching noise, and every single urge is to stop scraping, but for some reason we continue.

I changed the music to my specially prepared list of tracks, rummaging through my pocket of half empty gel packs, to change to the final track in my <Marathon 2019> playlist. At 33km, I made it up to this point feeling mostly okay -- so I went for it.

I made it four more kilometres with a negative split, running past multiple people who had started walking, before falling back into a numb survival mode. The sort of survival where you grit your teeth and and look for energy and strength you never knew you had. Digging deeper into the jar for one last push with two fingers jammed into the opening.

I ran alongside someone else who looked like he was struggling as much as I was, and we stuck together. I even had a little kick of speed about one km from the finish, near Britomart, before falling behind him again. Abby found me at the finish line, but I couldn’t move any closer to hear what she was saying. Nick came and found me to congratulate me, and I gave him a ride home via church.

The last 9 kilometers was truly one of the hardest things I have finished, but I was so happy at the finish line. I don’t think anyone else could ever understand the tears of joy -- I could do it.

On the Auckland marathon, I learned self-belief.

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I think people who have hiked with me can assure you that my hiking style is best described as obsessive. Nearly all can affirm this, the rest never really made it back. When I returned to Auckland in November, I remarked that to Y- that I was genuinely just exhausted, Y- was astonished,

> I cannot fathom what kind of hiking could make you exhausted

The Cascade Saddle day-trip was rough. It wasn’t the day trudging through knee-deep snow, or the sunburn starting to form on my cheek, right below where my cap did not provide shade -- but it was the collective two weeks of hiking and climbing, and finding my limit at the end of three long ten-hour days with a full pack. The entire day was full of the highest highs and the lowest lows.

The Dart Glacier, arguably the centre-piece of this hike was stunning. The entire hike was designed around tracing the Dart River upstream on the true left of the river to its source. It was easily the most awe-inspiring thing I have seen this year, in terms of majesty and beauty. There is nothing on earth which makes me feel so small or insignificant, as standing at the base of a glacier and looking at the timeless, frozen rivers that run around me.

The lows followed quickly after, descending from the mountain saddle, toward the end of the day and rapidly losing daylight. Fully knowing there was still 5 hours of hiking left in the day, slightly worried about the pace of the day quickly ending.

I can still vividly remember the shape of the broad, flat rock which looked slippery, and despite making the mental cost-benefit analysis, still carelessly putting my entire weight on the rock. In true laidback-jugs fashion, I just decided that the problem would sort itself out. Unsurprisingly, the foot did actually continue slipping, and with zero points of secure anchor, on the side of the mountain I continued to slide down the hill for a couple of metres somersaulting over exposed rock and snow.

I cursed myself with some very self-deprecating language to numb the pain down my shins and landing on top of my camera bag. In the back of my mind, I knew that I was hiking alone, very far from the closest person. Something about the self-sufficiency in the wild makes one increasingly irritable at every oneself, and every bad decisions. The rest of the limp back was miserable and I was exceedingly negative to myself.

The next morning, I made it as far as the Rees Saddle before returning to the hut. I started at 6am and vowed to myself that I would only go 3 hours because I had another 3 hours return and another 5 hours to the next hut. I made it two and half hours of climbing and walking along the narrow mountain route before stopping. I rested.

I felt not so alone as previous days, but in such solitude for that short half an hour, just watching the sun come over the mountains and giving my body rest. From the Intentions Book I knew that I was the first person to come across this mountain pass for four months, and I took heart from that.

In the moments where I could stop and see creation, remembering why I was out there in moderate-high danger, crossing waist-high water, and walking for hours with what seems like all my possessions - I could see that, in that moment, it was good.

On the Rees-Dart track, I learned self-love.

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This year has been good, even great. It’s been the best one yet, and I know I have grown so much as a person.

About a month ago, E- said I am often pretentious and this operated as a defense mechanism. It still slays me on the inside somewhat because it’s something I’ve battled my whole life. In reality, there is pretentiousness in me, but can that exist if I vow there is no pride?

There is urgency in everything I do, because I like to think that I doggedly pursue and am surrounded by so much love, peace and joy. I don’t know how anyone could settle for anything less, I struggle to translate that sentiment into words and actions that other people could understand. I don’t know how I can put the thirst in me in a normal way, without resorting to l'appel du vide and feeling I’m crazy or weird (or inferior) compared to everyone else because I feel more than other people do.

Life is merely what God has planned for each of us, and I’m just here to experience every drop of it.

On some level, I long to share it with someone. There is so much of my life which is guarded and the way her words still have so much power over me -- I think I still have some residual feelings for her.

#2019 #that long post #i'm just going to post this

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stanleywbaxton · 2 years

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The One Time I Asked my Friend For a Lift and Left my Soul in an Arcade Car Park

Gas, gas, gas [x]

So this is a quick one, but I need to get it off my chest. Purely because this is the most distilled instance of a hobby matching the hobby-goer I've ever seen in my life.

Arcade Club

is a wonderful place in the middle of Bury. I have this terrible condition known as 'Rhythm Game Brain Fungus', which means I have a compulsive need to check if a rhythm game arcade cabinet is within any distance of my current location, constantly. Arcade Club is run by people who also have a terrible case of RGBF, making it a holy grail in the north of every Bemani game I absolutely adore.

As I'm the kind of person to spread brain fungus as an act of love, I pestered and pestered my friends to come with me for a day out. We're all gamer nerds, and at least one person had to get hooked onto them like I had. And hell, even if they don't care about the rhythm games there's plenty other cabs there, and Mario Kart set up in the corner as a last resort. Everyone wins.

But the actual happenings mean little for this story. I had a great time, my friends had a great time, great times all around. Good day..

Now, the main problem with going to Arcade Club, as much as I adore the place, is that it's quite the way out from where me and my friends live. It takes both a tram and a train to reach it, so if one is delayed or we're late to one regardless of the other, we're a bit snookered for making our way back. But we're not stupid, are we? We'd leave ourselves with plenty of time to account for any public transport mishaps that could befall us, and give ourselves more than enough time to make the connections.

So the last tram leaves in 10 minutes.

I run the numbers, and realise we're not going to make it in time. It takes 20 to walk to the tram stop from the arcade. I'm starting to think through alternatives, seeing if there's a weird train connection that loops back on itself that google can't figure out, and thinking of the final possibility of us all splitting a cab.

When I realise, one of us drove here.

Introducing Tavi. Tavi is insane.

There are so many things to say about Tavi I would be here all day. Here's a selection of favourites.

Tavi wanted a nice speaker system, paid for the entire thing upfront, and offset the cost by eating nothing but cereal for a month. It's so loud that at 15% volume it registered at 80db, and at maximum caused the posters on the walls to fall off. When she watched Inception, her friend who lived in the house next door asked her to stop making her window frames rattle.

Tavi regularly says 'owo' out loud in public. She pronounces it 'oh-woh'.

Tavi is terrifyingly good at Rocket League. She joined her university's esports league, and caused enough decimation during inter-uni matches she caused several people to quit permanently.

Tavi came down to Manchester for Halloween, and everytime she saw a Genshin Impact cosplay would point at them and happily declare "There's an oomfie!" She does not play Genshin Impact.

Tavi is completely obsessed with the game Hatoful Boyfriend, that one dating sim where you go out with a bunch of pigeons. In her home lives a collection of plushies of every single character and when we visit she pelts us with them at random. She has a full dakimakura of one of the guys you can date and proudly displays it in her room. I say 'guy' like he's not a bird. He's a bird.

Tavi is wonderful.

"Hey Tavi," I say, "we're not going to make it to the tram stop in time, would you mind swinging us up there before you go?"

"Oh, sure!" she says with an angelic rasp.

Everyone's rounded up and we make our way out. I'm still running numbers in my head. 5 minute drive to get to the station. It's a bit of a walk to the platform; 2 minutes. We should make this if we get a move on.

So we pile into her shitty little student car—and forgive my homosexuality, I couldn't tell you the model even if I tried—which we manage to fill every seat of.

Now. Let me tell you a few more things about Tavi.

Tavi is a huge fan of eurobeat

Tavi is a huge fan of Initial D

Arcade Club has several Initial D cabinets

Tavi has spent the last 2 hours doing nothing but playing Initial D

Tavi pops her phone in, brings up the tram stop on google maps, which starts to chime out the directions. As we're fastening our seatbelts the engine roars to life with the turn of a key.

And among its bombastic cry, is eurobeat.

This was not some pussy shit. This wasn't your 'Night of Fire' or 'Running in the 90s'. These were cuts deeper than the mariana trench, from a woman who has listened to all two hundred and fifty Super Eurobeat albums, from a woman who has a dedicated spot in her living room for a full driving simulator setup.

The English language does not have the words to describe the speed we ripped out of this car park.

You see, the car park does not have direct access to the road. It's one of those where it's two or three turns to hit a parking spot. She, somehow, transcended the need for right turns. Gravel parted in her wake like Moses leading a speedrun of the Exodus.

My soul, the titular protagonist of this whole story, I feel eject out my back and straight through the car seat. Whatever hold it had on my corporeal form was shattered as soon as my stomach hit my throat. There was nothing to be done. I was that stunned by the literal 0 to 60 I was thrust through.

If you go to Arcade Club, it will still be there. Curled up in a puddle and weeping into the asphalt. The puddle is not from the English weather, but instead from its tears.

We're on a road. Then a different road. I don't know what road this is. Not the one we walked down, is all I know. The spare part of my brain grappling what common sense it can says a prayer to God, and every god that does and doesn't exist between Him.

During this experience, I remember speaking. I don't remember what. Words left my mouth without consulting my brain.

I think I yelled one or two times.

My friends certainly did. One friend does almost constantly, occasionally evolving into a full howl. Others laugh in combined astonishment and terror. Another tries, and fails, a bid to get Tavi to slow down.

"Yeah," she said, completely levelled, "that's the thing about drifting, it's all in the throttle control."

At least three people scream 'NO' at the top of their lungs.

I do wonder what we looked like to the denizens of Bury from the outside. We did hit a red light at some point, which I only remember for the screeching the engine made when Tavi launched us off again. Did someone look through a window while we were stopped? To see a gaggle of screaming university students held hostage by a lunatic of a woman entirely fueled by the most gottagofast-inducing music known to man?

I'm too scared to look at the road ahead. I don't know where we are anymore. Where are we going? Some vague notion of 'in time' floats around my mind and slips between my fingers. The notion that did stick around was 'I am going to Fucking Die'.

Everytime we turn, it feels like my body is a sack of organs in a washing machine. I've never felt car sick before, but this would be the closest I've ever gotten to—

The cacophony stops in an instant as she yanks the key out.

"Okay, we're here!" she chimes with a smile.

It's the tram stop, I realise. The world slowly comes back into focus around it.

We leave the car, because what the fuck else were we going to do? That's the correct move when the driver says you're at your destination. I was running entirely on social etiquette and the survival response of being seconds from hurtling into a wall.

I wave goodbye. I think. I don't remember.

Her car roars to life again, the pounding of eurobeat resuming. She sped out of the tram stop with all the fury she took us here with, burning rubber on the bus stop markings.

We watch her leave our line of sight.

We walk into the station.

It takes ten minutes before any of us can speak again.

And you know what? We made that goddamn tram. We were all sat down with the familiar doots of the best thing to happen to Manchester around us, when our usual conversation starts picking up, realising we made this thing. Felt like death was seconds ahead of us, but we made it. The circumstances that brought us here started to matter less and less.

And it's left me with this story to tell.

I guess, in all, I learnt two things that day:

If you want to get there on time, sans sanity, ask your eurobeat-obsessed friend to take you.

Never give a transwoman the aux cord.

#life

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steeiydan · 3 years

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Who is an*ssina and what did she do?

cut so you don’t all have to read my rant about her

a side character from a light novel/anime i like. i just... hate her so much. she reminds me of my bullies and is the “insufferable feminist” trope but for some reason its not really used to make her look bad? like, the other female characters will also be like “ugh men” but because there’s a reason, not because they’re a toxic person who thinks all men should be strong and have mandatory military training. also she forces her “childhood friend” into humiliating and painful situations and their relationship is portrayed as ““desirable”“ even though he’s scared of her. the only good thing she ever did was building a shopping district in a town that had sex trafficked teenage girls, and made it so they could get an education and earn money; but she wasn’t even involved in rescuing them in the first place. like, even without her, realistically all those girls would have gotten help because the protagonist either, considering what he dif the arc before, would’ve brought them to his kingdom or have the prince from the other country take care of them because that was one of the reasons the prince investigated the whole situation in the first place

and like, she’s obsessed with magic as a way of powering her inventions and is constantly forcing the other characters to test them without their consent, which is played for laughs which i get, but with her personality it just makes her come across as super toxic??

i like almost every other female character! the ex-queen might be a bit of a bimbo, but she’s a strong fighter and has a heart of gold despite making some bad decisions and putting others in danger; the protagonists mom is ditzy but fiercely protective and kind, the previous owner of the protagonist’s soul was a deeply pure but mischievious and kind woman, there’s a young ruler of a small country who made bad decisions to aid her people and pretended to be her husband for three years because women weren’t allowed to rule her country, one protected an artefact from the nazis, one is medic who is both kind and also terrifyingly strict with a temper (without resorting to the old “you’re fighting like a bunch if girls” trope); that’s just a couple of them though; like, she’s unfortunately one of the more prominent female characters, but i genuinely like how all the other women are written so it just sucks to me ngh

i’m sorry, but my hatred for this character is just so strong

#ask #anon

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freudensteins-monster · 7 years

Text

Free Your Mind

Random Crossover Idea #29831: MCU x The Matrix

Steve Rogers had been THE ONE. Erskine had felt it the moment he saw the skinny kid arguing with his friend at the World’s Fair. In the end the kid hadn’t taken much the convincing; he’d wanted to change the world so damn badly. Erskine, together with Howard Stark (aware of the real world but uninterested in being unplugged), had brought Steve to the underground lab to injected him with ‘the serum’, a tracking program to help their real world operatives locate Steve’s body in one of Hydra’s many battery farms.

They had almost had him but Hydra interrupted the procedure, and in the battle Steve’s real world body had been lost. His connection with the Matrix hadn’t been severed though, and Steve Rogers emerged from the metal coffin a completely different man. Erskine had been in awe, his long search over. He’d known a few special individuals over the years who bend the rules of the Matrix but he’d never met anyone who could change their own coding the way Steve had.

“You’re the One,” he’d beamed, right before a Hydra agent took over the body of one of the Senators in the room and shot him through the heart.

Steve had been distraught to have his mentor die in his arms, and furious that he’d been denied an escape from the Matrix, but damned if he wasn’t going to make Hydra’s life hell for it.

Hydra threw everything it could at ‘Captain America’, but he’d made himself too strong, too smart. They’d even tried to break his heart by dropping his best friend from a speeding train, but still he kept coming after them. In the end they gave him an ultimatum; his own life, or the lives of a million batteries. Hydra, smug in its victory, had thought they’d seen the last of the troublesome human.

Several years later... Coulson had spent every day since Erskine died trying to find Steve Roger’s capsule. The original tracking program had been lost in the battle with the Hydra sentinels but he’d worked the problem every day until one glorious morning he’d been blessed with the faint flicker of a red dot on his much-mended screen. He jumped on the comms.

“Sir, I’ve found him.”

Steve whined as he comes too, the room far too bright. His struggle to sit up is ended by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, son. You’ll be okay.”

“Why do my eyes hurt?” he croaked weakly.

“...because you’ve never used them before.”

Despite knowing better the crew of the Triskellion had not expected their saviour to look so... small. Short, weak, and stick thin, it was a miracle Hydra had allowed such a faulty battery to survive so long. But if anything, it reinforced the crews belief that Steve was the One, because even in the years since his disappearance no one had managed to affect the own coding the way he had.

Banner came closest, but he couldn’t control it and his antics in the Matrix often did more harm than good. He preferred to stay out of the Matrix as much as possible, growing comfortable his role as the ship’s physician. The other crew members came to Fury’s attention for the way they bent the rules of the Matrix as easy as breathing.

Hawkeye was an expert marksman. He never missed a shot no matter impossible the odds or ridiculous the situation. He had never quite made it through the jump program though and had fallen off more buildings, and into more dumpsters, than anyone cared to remember.

Widow had been taking down men twice her size long before she had the ability to upload fight programs, and she was the only known person to have survived possession by an Agent.

Stark had known about the Matrix for most of his life and twisted and bent it to his whims - he’d created his own goddamn element, for christsake. He had been unplugged from the Matrix as a necessity - Hydra were closing in on his pods location - and was far older than the usual candidates. He would have much preferred to have remained plugged into the Matrix, like his father before him, enjoying a certain level of comfort and luxury, and complained about it often.

Coulson had come to discover the Matrix through his boyhood obsession with Captain America, and had jumped at the chance to join Fury’s crew and lead the hunt for Steve Roger’s long lost pod.

After they’d rescued him and taken him down the long road of recovering from muscle atrophy, not that Steve had a lot of those to begin with, Coulson had become his rock in this strange real world. He answered every question Steve had and always had a comforting smile ready for him. Coulson thought it was utterly strange to be looked at like a surrogate father figure by the man he’d spent his entire life idolising, but he wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe Darcy.

Darcy was their primary operator, being the only ‘free range’ human on board, and a damn fine programmer. But she gave Stark a run for her money in the inane chatter department, and never failed to make the dynamic duo, as she’d taken to calling Coulson and his latest protege, blush with her inappropriateness.

It surprises Steve just how quickly he comes to think of them as his family. Even the grumpy captain, Fury. He pushed, ever so slightly, for Steve to suit up again. There’s still a fight to be won, still minds to be freed from Hydra’s grasp. Following Fury’s most emotional plea yet, and a few words of encouragement from Coulson, Steve spends the night staring at metal chair with the name ‘Capsicle’ scratched into it by Stark. Over breakfast he gave Fury his answer.

Darcy, sitting like a queen upon her thrown of recycled parts, surrounded by screens filled with neon green code, taps away on several keyboards at once as talks him through his first trip back into the Matrix in her usual flippant way.

“Everyone, please observe that the "Fasten your seatbelt" and "No smoking" signs have been turned on. Sit back and enjoy your flight...”

Steve feels the jolt of the cold metal spike into the base of his neck, he quickly forgets it as his system is flushed with endorphins. He glances around the Stark Tower penthouse (an unhackable entry/exit point) and finds his crewmates staring at him.

“I hate your RSI,” Stark snarks before countering Steve’s larger body, still wearing old WWII uniform, by covering himself in a red and gold suit of high tech armor.

“Wow...” Steve gasps. Stark preens until Widow bangs on his helmet with the butt of her gun.

“Let’s go before I drown in testosterone,” she drawls in her seldom used husky tones.

The crew files out to the helipad and Steve gawks at the futuristic world below him before his eyes settle on the strange transport plane.

“Can you fly that?” he asks Hawkeye, who’s made himself comfortable in the pilots seat.

“Not yet,” he smirks, before tapping the communications device in his ear.

“Operator.”

“Darcy-Lou, I’m gonna need a pilot program for a quinjet.”

“You want fries with that?”

Hawkeye’s eyes flutter for a split second and then he’s flipping toggles and switches like he knows what he’s doing, which Steve supposes, he does now.

Once they’re in the air and its safe to engage the autopilot Fury calls for them to assemble around a holographic display.

“Alright, our target...”

They work well together, and complete mission after mission with minimal issues. They’ve come face to face with Hydra agents a few times and Steve does what he’s been ordered to do: Run. The last time he faced an agent things didn’t go so well for him and he’s not ready to try again.

Hydra thought they had destroyed Steve Rogers, but apparently he’d just been offline. Now that he’s back online and running amok in their system he’s causing even more problems for them than he did before. Especially now that he’s working with the crew of resistance vessel Triskellion, who are becoming a larger annoyance than the crews of the Asgardia and the Milano combined. It can’t be tolerated. They try force, they try turning those still plugged in against him, but nothing works. It’s Agent Pearce who suggests trying to break Captain America’s spirit again. Whilst it hadn’t been successful the first time, it had had an impressive effect on the Captain. It was worth trying again, the powers that be agreed, and dusted off an old battery.

Their latest mission is putting their newest recruit, Falcon, through his paces but he holds his own alongside Steve and Widow.

The latter swears in Russian as Darcy passes along a message through her earpiece.

“We’ve got Agents incoming!”

“Where’s our nearest exit?”

“24hr diner, two blocks north, phone booth in the back,” comes unnervingly serious reply. That’s not good, Steve thinks. Darcy only gets serious when things look like their going to get really bad.

“Falcon, Widow, make for the exit. I’ve got your six.”

Falcon flies ahead and clears a path for them, his metal wings folding back as he strides into the diner, ignoring the panic and confusion he causes as he makes for the phone in the back.

Widow’s almost at the door when she hears the sound of 240 pound body being thrown against a car. She freezes when she sees his masked assailant. She’s knows him. He’s not an Agent but just as deadly, a terrifyingly efficient assassination program with a shiny metal arm. They must be really pissing Hydra off if they’re bringing out the big guns.

He’s matching Steve blow for blow, and when he almost takes Steve’s head off with a Bowie knife Widow leaps into action, quite literally, wrapping her legs around his head. Her usual move is to flip them on their back before taking them out, but the Winter Soldier, as the program is known, doesn’t even falter under her weight. He throws her off and moves to shoot her in the head, but Widow is faster, throwing some sort of miniature EMP device at his metal arm.

“Run!” Steve shouts at her and she complies, hesitating only for the briefest of moments. Steve tries to follow but the soldier doesn’t give up, blocking his path to the diner. They battle each other for five long minutes, Darcy counting down the seconds before Hydra agents arrive and she’ll have to cut the hardline in his ear, before he finally gets the upper hand, throwing the soldier halfway down the street, his mask coming off in his hand. Steve drops it and races for the exit, Darcy’s voice growing increasingly panicked.

“Get to the fucking exit, Rogers!”

He falls in the door as a bullet grazes he shoulder, pushing diners aside as he makes for the phone. He’s got it halfway up to his head when screams pull his attention back to the door. The Winter Soldier points a gun at his heart and fires.

“Bucky?!”

“Whoa, Steve! We got you. You’re okay,” Falcon tries to calm him down as he and Coulson keep him from leaping out of his chair. Steve blinks, the Matrix and his best friends face fading from his vision. He exhales shakily, his heart and mind racing. Coulson gives him a concerned look but he waves it off, as well as Darcy’s curious stare. He does a damn good job of pretending everything’s okay as he gives Fury his mission report but the second he’s dismissed he disappears into the bowels of the ship.

Coulson finds him a couple of hours later, curled up in a fraying chair that used to be his, but he hadn’t stepped foot in this section of the ship since the day they found Steve.

“This is how you found me?” Steve asks, gesturing at the mess of screens and cobbled together pieces of tech. Coulson nods. “Think you can find someone else?”

#i only meant for this to be a summary of an idea #3 hours later...#mcu #the matrix #crossover au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #phil coulson #black widow #falcon #hawkeye #fury #tony stark #fanfiction #freudensteins-fics #darcy lewis

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thenerdhathwrote · 7 years

Text

Bands of Mourning Reactions Part 3!

And so continue my reactions! From after the train sequence to somewhere mid-party/grave-robbing. I feel the need to preface my thoughts with “I love Steris.”

Wax waking up to explosions is oh-so-fitting

Even if they aren’t actually explosions, lol

So...Ape Manton tortured Wax, I take it? There’s a story there.

A story I kinda want to read...

To be fair, Wax’s entire life is just one, big, dramatic story

Since it’s highly unlikely Sanderson will write it, I want a big, dramatic fanfiction saga about Wax’s life

And Wayne’s

And I almost never read fanfiction

But I’m obsessed, and I want it

Anyway. Moving on.

Let’s be real, after the last book, I don’t believe anyone who shows up from Wax’s past is actually that person

That whole, ridiculous scene of them getting to the hotel and bemusing poor Aunt Gin was pure gold

I haven’t laughed that much at a book in a long time

Steris gave the poor woman an indexed book of issues to prepare for

Cattle stampede through the lobby seems a lot more likely in this context than most books I’ve read, tbh

“Hello, humans, what size boobs should I choose for the evening? Also don’t break my skulls.”

Good job being subtle there, MeLaan

I supposed being a dude would solve the boob size issue, so at least that’s sorted

I love that Wayne’s instinctive reaction to MeLaan being a guy is that he should have given her his shoes. Protect him.

“Why are we having this conversation?” “Because we’re tired.”

Honestly I feel that on a spiritual level

Hey look, it’s Hoid!

Look at the coin, Wax! I dunno what it is, but it’s most likely important!

Wayne and Marasi make a good team :-)

And his consternation at Marasi doing things legally is hilarious

See, Wax, someone else had to point out the coin to you. Pay attention.

Poor Steris. Feeling like an alien doesn’t always last. It’ll get better. It won’t vanish, but it’ll get better.

Sooo...who’s the woman asking him about Twinborn stuff?

Should I know who she is?

Honestly, Marasi shouldn’t be surprised that Wayne is an excellent seamstress

Seems like Wayne is the only one who calls her Mara

I don’t ship them, but honestly I feel like they’re more shippable than Wax and Marasi, and they were clearly intended to be shippable (Brandon Sanderson even mentions them in his annotations, I think)

Ahh, Wayne, with his accents

He’s just so good at this. The undercover stuff, if you will. Almost terrifyingly good. It’s glorious to read.

Someday it’s going to backfire, and that’s going to be terrifying

I just remembered I’m reading a Brandon Sanderson book. If Wayne dies, I riot

If any of them die, I riot

...I’m going to have a very bad time, aren’t I...

#cosmere #mistborn #era 2 #bands of mourning #brandon sanderson #reaction post

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ipilates · 5 years

Text

Take it easy on yourself, sweet soul. You are doing much better than you think.

Notes on Menopause

Jen Day

Being stopped in your tracks

By the Menopause..

2014, aged 39, I lay on the bed sobbing. I hadn’t the energy, I had run out of steam. That year I had competed in Aix en Province half Ironman, I followed a five month training plan to the letter and trained for 18 hours a week. The seven years before I had been competing in Olympic distance Triathlons. I ran a Pilates studio, teaching for 30 hrs a week. I was raising two spirited teenage boys. I was tired, really tired. Looking back it was no wonder, but something wasn’t right. I have always had boundless energy, this year I also married Tim, my love, my biggest fan, support crew, steady step father, and all round best human being who stood shoulder to shoulder with me, and also dried my tears and told me I was doing a good job.

As it happens, at 37 I started to feel drained, I kept coming over ‘all funny’, I was getting hot and bothered all the time, I was anxious, I felt every bit of sorrow in the universe, I had become emotionally super sensitive. I worried about the boys, not just general stuff like have they brushed their teeth worries, but astonishingly irrational worries. I worried about everything. I wasn’t sleeping as I was being roused out of sleep by a hot sensation that started in the palms of my hands and souls of my feet that radiated throughout my whole entire body. I once woke up convinced I could smell gas and that we should get the hell out of the house. I put most of it down to being over tired. It got quite crazy, I went to the Dr’s, they ran some blood tests. And boom there it was Oestrogen levels way low, I was going through the Menopause.

I wasn’t a sporty child or adolescent. I was artistic. I have an Arts degree, arty people are rarely sporty. After my son Olly was born I started running (in 2000) and have never really stopped. In 2011 a girlfriend and I cycled 700kms in Northern Vietnam. I hadn’t been on a bike since I was 11 and thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. Also that year I was asked to take part in my first team triathlon. I was asked to do the run leg and I had a decent 5k time of sub 21 minutes. I was a runner, marathons, half, 10k’s, I loved running.

The day of the triathlon I watched in awe as swimmers launched into a lake, freezing cold, very early one September morning. I couldn’t swim, never learnt. After being disturbed watching Jaws when I was nine years old, I was convinced I would get eaten alive in a swimming pool. I even went through a phase as a child of having to look behind me whilst sitting on the toilet, convinced something would emerge and take me down. But something sparked in me that day as I watched the swimmers, and it ignited a passion, albeit a little obsessive for the next seven years, I had found Triathlon. Slight hurdle to overcome though.

I had to learn to swim. Both my boys swim well, I watched them progress from babies, they had to love the water, I was certain they wouldn’t feel my fears. Never once had I the urge to learn to swim. I had never been out of my depth particularly, and could just about tread water in my Pajama’s if necessary. That I remember doing at school. As a child we never went on holiday, and I certainly didn’t have the privilege of swimming lessons like my boys. So I read EVERYTHING about swimming, I found a pool and started swimming. Kicking hard with my arms stretched out in front of me dipping my face in and out of the water (which I hated doing). 25 meters was a massive goal.

I swam everyday for the first year and that really is the truth (ok maybe not Christmas Day). I joined a swim club that met every Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes called Swimfit and I was by far the worst. Everyone swam amazingly. David the group coach gave me every bit of encouragement that I needed, not that I needed a great deal as I am quite determined it turns out. He inspired me to keep trying to tickle the toes in front of me. I was seriously slow, and to this day I blame my ‘runners’ legs. I learnt only front crawl and four months in I signed up to do a 3k open water swim, having NEVER swam in open water. So that was next, come early spring my first experience was a complete disaster. Terrifyingly cold, the wetsuit was so tight around my neck I couldn’t breathe. I tried to put my face in the water but the shock sent me into panic. Lets not even talk about the demons lurking low in the murky waters…

If at first you don’t succeed….and of course I persevered, I had set myself a goal and being an upholder I was sticking to it. After seven months of learning to swim I found myself on a chilly (they are always chilly) morning treading water (still not very good at that, but the wetsuit gives you buoyancy) facing my biggest challenge yet.

We had pink caps on, about 50 women, I decided a women only race would be a good gentle start to my swimming career, goggles on and waiting. The klaxon sounded loudly, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Everyone surged forward, I hung back thinking basically I’m going to drown. I got going and about 30 metres in, disaster struck. My ‘lucky’ goggles snapped, (I had fiddled with them and tightened them so much with nervous anticipation). I suddenly became the biggest NON swimmer out there, my goggles gave me security, without them I was going no where. You are told if you get into trouble just lay on your back and put your hand in the air, well I couldn’t think straight and somehow thrashed my way back to the start, ( I have no idea how that happened), thinking I can’t even lay on my back and float, I’d never even tried doing that before..

So I hauled my body out and sat in shock on the jetty, by this point the stronger swimmers were almost completing the first 750m lap. Trying to compose myself, my legs were like jelly and I was shaking so much with cold and adrenaline, I said to myself that’s it, that’s over then, just get back to the car and get warm. What the hell was I thinking anyway?! I clearly wasn’t ready in the slightest, no way. And this is what happened next: A lady marshal in her 50’s asked me what happened and I explained that my goggles snapped and that is was ok, I just want to go home. ‘Hang on’ she said ‘there’s a bucket over there with spare goggles, go grab some and get yourself back in’. I protested politely and said ‘NO but thanks, really.’ What she wouldn’t have understood at that point is how utterly terrified I was and that my ‘lucky’ goggles were the only pair in the whole wide world that were going to assist me in swimming 3k( I had trialled so many pairs, it was a joke).

‘Don’t be silly’ she said, I rolled my eyes like a teenager and dutifully went to peer into the bucket, which in hindsight I should have used to throw up in, but I showed willing just to get her off my case. FORTUNATELY they were all mens, all large, all wrong and hallelujah I’m going home! ‘WAIT’ she exclaimed I have mine in the car, and off she runs. I stood there thinking what the hell? What the actually F*@k. Is this really happening? At this point the swimmers are almost two laps in by the way, sure enough like a flash she returned with two sets of goggles.

Again, I said ‘look really kind of you but I don’t want to get back into that water and I’m absolutely 100% ok with that, ok?’ ‘Not ok’ she said. ‘Put the goggles on, she was a little stern which could of gone two ways but I found myself complying. ‘Listen’ she softened ‘ I don’t care what happens today, I want you just to jump back into that water, swim to the first buoy and back, then you can go home, deal?’ I actually started to cry, ‘ I don’t think you understand (of course she did) this is all new, I have a fear of the water, I have made a huge mistake, I’m terrified and I just cant, I’m sorry” I sat down in protest still holding onto her goggles. Then this happened: She started to undress, to my relief, surprise and dread she had a bright orange swimming costume on underneath, she took my hand, ‘come on, we will do this together’ Was this woman out of her mind? She said ‘get the goggles on, we are going to jump in together, that’s all, then you can get out’ I was in such shock that I didn’t really have time to think about it ( however I do remember thinking get this god dam woman off my case). So, three, two, one we jumped. To my utter surprise the goggles stayed put and we bobbed up like two corks, she must have been freezing, Her eyes never left mine, ‘few strokes?’ She pleaded. My heart rate would have been 200 I swear, we remained still for a minute eyes locked. I decided to start swimming to the first buoy, that’s it, no further, and we did, together, I had her orange swimsuit on my right hand side the whole way, 20 freaking metres. I had a choice, I could turn round and swim back or I could carry on, and that’s what I decided to do, for that woman. With no word or signal I just swam, I found myself on the course with a mantra that went over and over until my heart rate settled, ‘bubble bubble, breathe’. I completed the four laps, 3 kilometres, at one point a guy in a canoe with a flask of tea paddled along side me, probably thinking I may drown at any point. I surrendered and found a rhythm, a flow, and I remember the swim being very peaceful given the struggle.

I exited the water, second from last (yes that’s right!) and she was there (dressed) , our eyes met, she cried, I cried and that was the start of something truly amazing. That lady was a gift to me, we didn’t know it at the time but she was the reason that Triathlon became my next big passion. I’m convinced I would have left that lake (had I not gone back in) and stopped swimming altogether. Instead that was the start of a fabulous journey with many many more strokes to come. That lady was a gift.

So I spent the next seven years pushing boundaries, always slightly out of my comfort zone. I went to Mallorca early springtime and trained with proper age group athletes, I acquired a series of bike upgrades ( that was fun). I swam in seas, rivers, lakes and lidos. I ran tracks, trails, mountains, and cities. I cycled everywhere and hunted hills. I met a brilliant community of triathletes. I succumbed to taking HRT in this time and it truly lifted me. I still had good days and bad but my anxiety was reduced and I could sleep. There was a nagging feeling that I wasn’t fully listening to my body, it was asking me to slow down. Teaching Pilates is a fairly physically demanding job and it takes a lot from you. So something had to give.

My last race in 2015 was Aix en Provence, a stunning course, beautiful lake swim ( horrendously physical start) the bike ride was the moment for me where time stood still and something shifted, that’s the only way I can describe it. I had been so convinced I would get a puncture, I was worrying I wasn’t eating or drinking enough, cramp was starting in my feet, by the time I actually lifted my head up to breathe I was about 30k into the 90km course. I was going through a very flat section purple mountains ahead, the scenery was breath taking but I couldn’t afford the breath, and that’s when a voice inside my head said, slow down, you’re missing this. I had become fixated with times and numbers and stats that I had begun to loose the joy, I couldn’t even appreciate the view. And I was tired, so tired my body wanted to stop.

I have never been so relieved to finish, the run was the biggest endurance (aside from childbirth) of my life. But I felt like I’d achieved a massive goal and I was happy with the race. However that voice got louder. I got home had a lot of moments of crying on the bed, I took some time off. Scaled my work schedule down a tad, stopped training and had to go through a transition of not beating myself up for not training, this I found hard. At that point I had been running for 16 years, triathlon for seven, I needed a break. By the way, I’m one of those slightly obsessive people if you hadn’t noticed, when I do something I do it..

*a note: The one consistency in my physical life has been Pilates. I have been practising and teaching for 18 years. I absolutely adore The Method, it has kept me strong, pretty much injury free and sane. It has given me so much more, I couldn’t imagine life without it. And yes, I think it is absolutely brilliant to ease you through Menopause. I started practising Yoga, gently, carefully knowing not to get competitive with it. I introduced meditation, again without trying to make it my next big obsession.

I tread lightly these days. When I was first told at 37 I was going through the menopause I was in denial, I felt it wasn’t fair, I was embarrassed, I felt like life was slipping through my fingers. Some of my friends were just starting their families! I felt my life just stopped, having been very driven, active and determined, I lost my joy and that drive. My path seemed to fizzle out, I wasn’t sure of my direction anymore. The menopause made me fuzzy, forgetful, and low. Having entered into my second marriage I was young enough to have more children, but that was taken away. The very feeling of not being able to have children anymore is quite frankly sad.

Seven years in and I’m feeling a shift again. Over the last year a more dramatic one. And it’s this, I am starting to feel that this is a special time. A time to reevaluate and put your health ( which includes mental health) first. Given that I am incredibly grateful to be gracing this beautiful planet, I feel life is a gift, like that woman. We have a choice, keep swimming up stream, feel the sun on your face, walk barefoot, eat nutritiously laden food, move our bodies with grace, be strong and centred, breathe well, meditate, jump in when you feel scared and don’t let life pass you by, love and be loved, its a gift.

These words by Susan Sontag from the book The double Standard of ageing pretty much sum it up for me..

“Women have another option. They can aspire to be wise, not merely nice; to be competent, not merely helpful; to be strong, not merely graceful; to be ambitious for themselves in relation to men and children. They can let themselves age naturally and without embarrassment, actively protesting and disobeying the conventions that stem from this society’s double standard about ageing. Instead of being girls, girls as long as possible, who then age humiliatingly into middle-aged women, they can become women much earlier - and remain active adults, enjoying the long, erotic career of which women are capable, for longer. Women should allow their faces to show the lives they have lived. Women should tell the truth.”

*Today I am still on HRT, the advice is to take it for 10 years. Originally it went against everything I believed in, I went down every natural avenue I could find first, nothing helped. I stopped eating meat three years ago, one of the best decisions I’ve made for my health. A whole plant based diet works for me.

Thanks for reading xx

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