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wangxianficrecs · 3 years

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Hi Mojo, I also wanted to share my thoughts on this concrit and commenting discussion, particularly the etiquette of asking permission before identifying racism part. I think there are two conversations here: the concrit and comment etiquette on fics, and POC being able to speak up without having to adhere to etiquette. Of course you can stop reading this message if you would like to as I’m mindful of your argument that you should ask permission first. But if you could read this (not even publish!) then that would be appreciated.

I am a Chinese diaspora. As a Chinese diaspora your comments affected me rather more than I expected them to. I’m being really careful about my own tone right now - because I’m worried that if I come across as angry or even remotely impolite, that my message might get dismissed by a reader thinking I’m just angry and reactive. I’m coming from a personal perspective on this, but I can’t not make it personal as this is something that affects me, and my friends and family, as people.

With your message to be kind in all interactions with authors, all that runs through my mind is the implication that as a POC person, is is MY job to be kind and understanding and polite, and it MY job to willingly teach another person of how their actions and words have impacted me. That if I am angry or offended and speak in a less than nice tone, that somehow this is a petty tit-for-tat move on my part? Of course in an ideal situation we should not react emotionally - but I can’t be expected to stay unemotional in the face of micro aggression and racism, even if it was not meant to be malicious. I’m sure your intention wasn’t this but then the idea that WE must then kindly educate the racist party (accidentally or otherwise) is a huge emotional and mental burden that we can’t be expected to partake in every time.

I know I cannot say ‘us’ in this situation, but this isn’t an issue that only affects an individual. I KNOW I am only one person. I know I may not be the ‘mouthpiece’, as you said, for everyone who is Chinese diaspora. But I can say for certain that I share the same lived experiences of at least some who will agree with me. I’m challenging the idea that an individual can’t be somewhat reflective of a population - otherwise it would be ridiculous to suggest that all people of a similar background must agree on everything and have a spokesperson.

I’m also sure you didn’t mean to or I could be wrong, but I get the sense that you are considering this issue predominately from the perspective of a non-POC (non-Chinese, in this case) author and how we should try not to upset them. It feels that we must consider that the author is coming from a place of no bad intentions or malice and must therefore speak to them in that way - but that is a very idealistic process that POCs and marginalised people can’t always rely on. Ignorance - especially wilful - can be just as harmful and hurtful as direct aggression.

Luckily my experiences in this fandom has demonstrated that authors who are non-Chinese or POC almost always start their fics with an apology and a reassurance that they are receptive to corrections of any cultural inaccuracies they may have. And I think that this is the crux of the etiquette issue that we shouldn’t offer unsolicited criticism without first asking permission. These authors have acknowledged their different background and own potential shortcomings and are open to criticism in this aspect. In these more common cases, there is of course no need to ask for permission - the author has already anticipated conversation around this.

The etiquette issue is when an author has not prefaced their work with this sort of disclaimer - and I am aware it may be unfair to expect this of all fic writers. That’s where this issue of etiquette comes up. The author hasn’t appeared to welcome comments on cultural insensitivity - so I have to think about if I now need to ask nicely for permission to speak. As a reader, specially as a Chinese diaspora, if cultural insensitivity or discrepancies appear without the disclaimer of ‘please let me know if there are any inaccuracies’ then the implication may be that the author simply didn’t care or bother about offending anyone. If they do, then I know it’s just a mistake and that they haven’t been dismissive or uncaring. Without it, the authors intentions become much more ambiguous.

Even worse is when an author blatantly says they’ve made mistakes or haven’t researched and don’t care for feedback. My culture and heritage isn’t a playground for you, and I don’t think fic writers should be exempt from being respectful for the sake of a quick fic.

Like I said earlier, this is not a hypothetical exercise for POC. We’re faced with microaggressions constantly in our real lives, so our patience for this sort of situation runs a bit thin and it is difficult not to react with emotion. I also dislike the idea that I need to ask permission to speak about something that impacts me so profoundly.

A message to prefaces a written piece of work saying that the author is not of that ethnicity or culture and that they welcome comments to fix it always helps. Then the lines of communication aren’t blurred and the onus doesn’t fall on the marginalised or POC to become a teacher.

Mojo, this is actually the second draft of a message to you. I have spent over an hour and a half of my time crafting this message - trying to get the tone right, trying not to come across angry or impolite, trying to say everything I want to say. Your replies to the blogger in the replies of one of the last anons was what really sparked this huge essay- I came away from reading them really effected, and not knowing why I was upset by it. I think you really missed the point that they were trying to say - that obviously, unsolicited criticism can be hurtful and unnecessary, but valid criticism of hurtful practices should not be shut down. Instead, you explained (and I know interpreting tone through text is difficult but I could not read it in a non-patronising way) that in short, if I am mean because they’ve been (allegedly accidentally) mean first then I shouldn’t expect them to listen to any of my concerns or understand why I was upset. Because I was mean back. For me, this felt like a dismissal of something that is profoundly more complex - that it wasn’t a conversation about etiquette anymore, but somehow became one about silencing marginalised people and coddling fragile white egos.

Mojo, I’ve followed you for ages and love all the content and hard work you put out and am infinitely and considerably grateful for your achievements. You are truly a wonderful person with such great ideas and intentions. The fandom would suffer greatly without your dedication. It’s just that on this occasion I think you may have missed the mark a little and had to say something. Others may not agree with me, I know, but I hope you have at least read this.

Lots of love, from a follower

Let me start by saying that I’m very sorry you felt you had to moderate your tone so much in order to be heard. I really do strive to make my blog a welcoming environment for everybody, and I regret that you’ve felt excluded: that was never my intention. I am always interested in everyone's point of view.

You've got some really great and specific points here that I think will be helpful to all authors in this fandom -- like ways to introduce your fic and/or be respectful as well as small things that come across as offensive.

The conversation this morning veered way off track from bookmarks to racism, and like I said then, I am not qualified to talk about that. I do not have your history or your experiences: all I can do is listen and empathize and learn. Which I try to do!

What I am qualified to discuss is how writers might respond to comments: I've had lots of experience with that! So my point is: if you approach an author with anger, they are very likely to close themselves off to you. I'm not attaching a value judgement to that, to say that they are right or wrong to do so... it's just a statement based on my observations over many years.

I can imagine how easily a lifetime of tiny (and large) insults and slights would build up and spill over in anger, frustration and resentment. That's very human. Please don't think that I am belittling or denying your experience or your right to feel this way, because I am not.

I respect you. I respect your experience. I respect your right to be angry and to talk about it. Period. I really, really do. I think it's important for your voice to be heard: this is how you feel valid as a person with your feelings, and it's how other people learn!

So let's go back to reading a fic where you find portions (or all) of it racist or insensitive or culturally tone deaf. What is your goal? I ask this just as a student of psychology (and also a parent). Do you want to educate them, or to shame them? Again, I'm not attaching a value judgement to either response. The way you introduce your topic will affect how the author will react. It's not about 'white fragility'... there's no way for you to know who penned that story, just as there is no way for the author to know anything about you when you comment. This is just about humans and how they interact with each other.

This is tough. This is thorny. THIS IS NOT A SIMPLE MATTER. There are always, always going to exceptions, gray areas and straw men: you (and any reader) should always use your judgement. Are you saying this to someone who is hateful and bigoted and cruel with it? Or are you saying it to a 12-year-old girl from corn fields in Nebraska? Are you unsure?

So this isn't about silencing your voice, not at all. It's about judging who you're speaking to and whether or not they'll hear you.

I absolutely do not think that unsolicited or angry fic comments (or bookmarks) are a productive forum for educating people... if that is your goal. And it may not be, which is fine. As you pointed out, the burden of educating people should not rest solely on you, it shouldn't be your responsibility.

I will say again that a place like this, right here - this very letter which I am answering and publishing - IS a great way to educate people. Use it freely, speak loudly, say your piece and share your experiences. Arrgh, I really hope that doesn't come across as condescending. I'm being utterly sincere. I am nearly 50. I've seen a lot of change happening. This is how it happens.

I do not want to silence your voice - or anyone's voice! I want to hear everyone's opinions and thoughts because that ultimately makes me a more well-rounded and considerate person and the world a better place.

I do however, passionately believe that positive change can be affected best through positive interaction. It's not a rule everyone is required to follow, not at all. But is the one that I speak of, and the one that I try to adhere to.

I could never speak for any minority, to say what you should or shouldn't do - as individuals or as a group. But I can speak from the experiences and feelings of a fic author. That's it, that's the limit of my ability. And you may do with that whatever you feel is right.

Let me wrap this up by saying that I really appreciated this letter and Nonny - you were very brave to throw this out into the forum, thank you! You had some extremely useful and important points that I am very happy to share. I am sorry my comments hurt you, and I hope that you feel a little better now.

Having said all this, I would really not like to start a huge discussion on racism in the fandom. I am the wrong person to conduct that conversation: I don't know enough about it, nor do i have the proper experiences or point of view.

With that, I must go, and I'll see you all tomorrow!

#Anonymous #fandom etiquette #comments #racism in fandom #which I am really not qualified to discuss #but this is an important point of view #that we should all listen to #and I'm grateful that Nonny shared it

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years

Text

Was that Jake there?

Part 2

Fandom: Duskwood

Paaring: Jake x MC

Word counter: 5,3k

Passage:

-"It doesn’t have to be just one night”

"Okay, just kidding please don’t hit me" Phil grins.

You roll your eyes.

"But you noticed when we wrote that I thought you are pretty" he adds.

"Phil.." Actually, you want to tell him that he should stop but you were interrupted.

"I think that were enough jokes for this night" you hear a dark voice behind Phil talking.

Phil scares out and turns around. You were expecting Dan, but that’s definitely not Dan.-

Preface: Hi guys👋🏻 I’m back with a new story. This one takes place after episode 6. Those who know my other stories know that I love it when the mysterious hacker suddenly appears. I don’t think it’s a spoiler, most of us are already done with episode 6.

I hope there are not too many mistakes and you can understand everything. It took all night to translate the German text. It may be that I missed some things but I hope you don’t mind by reading this. In the text there will be short passages from two songs, I have linked the songs but you don’t have to listen to them. I just wanted to bring the feeling over more. I hope you like it and have fun

"Jesssyyyy" you call out loud so she can hear you despite the loud music. Excited, she turns in your direction and you go through it between the other guests to get to Jessy quickly. It’s your first time in Duskwood. In keeping with Jessy’s birthday she celebrates at the city’s most famous club. She extra rented a Vip Lounge for this day.

You landed with the plane two hours ago, and Dan picked you up at the airport.

You brought your luggage to Jessy’s apartment, she gave Dan a key so you could leave your things in her apartment.

Unfortunately, you could not take an earlier flight because your Boss needed your help at work. But in this Moment is isn't important. Now you are finally in Duskwood. Jessy and the rest are already at the club celebrating. Actually, it’s her birthday tomorrow, but she wanted to party in. "MC" calls Jessy back loudly as she sees you between the people.If you hadn’t waved, she would never have seen you. Shortly thereafter, you happily fall into each other’s arms.

"Oh my God, I’m so happy to finally see you, so finally in real and not just about pictures," she murmurs into your ear. "I’m looking forward, too."

"Today we are having a party and forget everything for a few hours okay?" she asks grinning. You nod to her with determination. "It’s my turn to say hello" shouts a male voice.

Richy lifts you up a little bit and turns you both in a circle. Laughing, he lets you stand on the ground again. "THERE IS THE RIDDLE QUEEN YES" he shouts loudly and gossip. You bow and wink at him.

"MC" someone calls your name. This time Cleo’s coming at you. "Hello Cleo" you giggle and hug her too. "Nice that you managed to come" "I am also very happy, I must not miss this" "You should have come much earlier" she looks offended away but grins. "You could have invited me, but you didn’t," you giggle.

"Touché" she laughs.

Shortly thereafter, Thomas greets you. "Today we don’t think about the bad" you demend. "Tonight is ours," he agrees. He holds his hand up and you claps.

Also you and Lilly greet each other.It was weird at the beginning but after a short time it got better.

Since you’ve been standing in the way all the time and everyone has to walk past you, Dan finally pushes you into the sitting area of the lounge.

You recognize Phil right away, but you don’t know the rest of the people. You sit next to Jessy, and right now, Dan will hold you a glass of whiskey. "Whiskey Dan? Are you sure?" you ask. "No, we’re drinking tequila," Jessy blends in and puts a little glass on the table. Two shots of tequila and a glass of whiskey later, you’re suddenly tapped by someone. Your head turns in the direction you think the person is.

Frightened you open your eyes, Phil’s face is not ten centimeters from yours. "Woah" directly you slide back a bit. You bumping into Jessy. The glass in her hand starts to shake and the drink lands on the floor. Jessi’s face turns in your direction and you look at each oher in surprise. She starts laughing and you join in. Phil looks at you troubled. "Okay, that’s a girl thing," he grins. Another girl calls out to Jessy, she gets up and walks towards the bar. Phil starts talking, but you don’t hear anything through the loud music. "What did you say? I didn’t understand anything," you shouted. The bench of the lounge has a padded backrest. Phil puts his arm on this one just behind your shoulders, leaning down a bit to your ear. "I said we didn’t have time to say hello, you wanted to come to the Aurora" "That’s right, I haven’t made it yet, I’m in Duskwood for the first time today," you murmur. "Then you should come more often from now on" he winks. Nervously you smile at him and try to slip away a bit. You drink a sip of your cocktail and look around, you see Dan standing a few meters away, watching Phil skeptically. This is your chance. Inconspicuously you squint in Phil’s direction to show Dan that you need help. You have become quite good friends lately and he understands your situation immediately. He comes up to you and waves. Immediately you wave back and act like you’ve only just noticed him. Phil, who was about to tell you something, gets interrupted by Dan. "MC come with me, Jessy wants you to go dancing with her," he calls. You’re looking at Phil. He just smiles and moves aside so you can go to Dan. The bearded one immediately takes your hand and pulls you in the direction where the bar is. "Thank you" you say. "Watch little one, I really don’t like your hacker friend very much, but then I’d rather take him than a fuck boy like Phil. He is not a relationship person" You’re starting to smile. "If he shows up again, I’ll take care of it," you answer. "Yeah, and I’m gonna have to talk to him, just not as nice as you plan to do." Asking, you look at Dan and pull up an eyebrow.

"MC you don’t have to pretend like you don’t care about anything. You have changed slightly, become paranoid and much more careful with what you say. We haven’t said anything yet because we didn’t want to interfere, neither of us understands what’s between you and Jake." You look at the floor sad. You haven’t noticed yourself that you are feeling so bad, but if the others even notice it when writing, it will be true. "It doesn’t matter, I promised Jessy that this evening was ours, so let’s just celebrate." You blink at Dan and hit him lightly against his shoulder. Suddenly you’re hugged from behind and almost thrown to the ground. Dan can hold you just as tight as Jessy screams into your ear. "LET’S DANCE MC PLEASE" she shouts. "AUA JESSYYYY NOT SO LOUD, I’M NOT DEAF" you call back just as loud what makes her giggle. She looks at you like a puppy, pleading her hands folded. "All right, but only if Dan comes too" "What? No! I don’t dance..." "Yay" calls the redhead in between and pulls Dan and you behind her. On the dance floor you will meet the rest of the group. Richy and Thomas have put an arm around their shoulders and jump up and down to the beat of the music. They call the lines of the song.

"When I saw her Walking down the street She looked so fine I just had to speak I asked her name But she turned away As she walked All that I could say what"

Typical party music is played by the DJ. When Richy finds you three, he screams. "MCCCC" He shouts so loudly that some strangers turn to you and look at you. Giggling, you look back at Richy who just shrugs his shoulders. He and Thomas still jump up and down. Richy puts his right arm around you and encourages you to join in. Laughing you do what he wants and put an arm around Jessy’s shoulder. Jessy does the same with Dan. Dan puts his arm around Cleo and these around Lilly. And so you all stand there and jump together to the beat of the music and laugh.

"So many girls in here, where do I begin? I seen this one, I’m 'bout to go in Then she said, I’m here with my friends She got me thinking and that’s when I said Where the girls at, girls at? Where the girls at, girls at? Where the girls at, girls at?

So go get them, we can all be friends" you all sing together in the choir for "Where Them Girl At - David Guetta". Soon you realize that Richy seems to be pretty good at rapping. Even if the text is rather screamed, in real life it would certainly sound good. Meanwhile, Phil and a friend of his have also come to you. You didn’t care because first they brought a tablet with shots you all drank together. Second, Phil has a certain distance from you and doesn’t stand right next to you. Third, because you just didn’t care about anything and you just enjoyed the music and the time with your friends.

“No, no I don't endorse that, pause that, abort that Just the other day mi go London, saw that, kids down the street Paparazzi, all that Hey hey what can I say? Day day day da-day day Coming through the club all the girls in the back of me This ain't football why the fuck they tryna tackle me?"

Thomas pulls Lilly between him and Richy. The poor girl is pushed back and forth for fun while both sing the lyrics.

"Really, I pick dude at the bar like really Looking like he wanna good time like really"

Richy puts both hands on Lilly’s shoulders from behind and jumps around next to her.

"Said he had a friend for my home girl Lilly Lilly, Lilly, Lilly" Lilly looks at him unsettled and almost loses the balance because of the movement Richy produces.

The song ends and a different melody sounds.The melody of "Happy Birthday" It’s zero o'clock, it’s Jessy’s birthday. All guests who don’t belong to Jesse’s birthday are looking around confused. Dan and Thomas disappeared a minute ago to get the cake for Jessy. Jessy gets pulled into the middle by Richy and the rest of you line up around her. You’re looking confused at Richy, who took care of "Happy Birthday" being played for Jessy.

"Feliz cumpleaños? That’s Spanish?" you realize.

He nods proudly.

You look at him "Why?"

"Is something normal with us?" he asks grinning.

You’re shaking your head.

"See? That’s why Spanish"

"Can anyone here speak Spanish?"

"No, I don’t think so, but whatever"

"Idiot" you answer laughing.

People make way and you see a bright light of candles on the cake. Cleo keeps her hands on Jessys eyes, so she can’t see. The music goes out and Cleo takes the hands off Jessy’s eyes.

Her eyes get big when she sees the cake Cleo made. "1...2...3..." Thomas shouts, at the same time everyone starts singing again for Jessy, even the guests who don’t belong to Jessy sing along. Like on command, Jessy starts crying. Quickly you go to her and take her in your arms. At the end of song, everyone starts to applaud. You congratulate her, "Happy Birthday Jessy" and hug her tight. "You have to blow out the candles," says Dan. "Make a wish," Lilly adds. "But don’t say it out loud, otherwise the wish won’t come true" you warn her. "You’re so cute," Jessy murmurs, wiping away the tears. Then she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Then she blows out the candles. Then everyone applauds again. Little by little, everyone congratulates her. Even some strangers wish her well. Everyone gives the presents to Richy, who then takes them to his car and puts them in the trunk, where everything stays all night. Since each of you drinks alcohol, you and Jessy will take a cab home to her later.

And as soon as everyone wakes up, Dan Richy drives back to the club so Richy can get the car. Then you all meet at Jessy’s and have breakfast together, and then the others want to show you some Duskwood. You took a week off so you’ll be here a few more days. Arrived in the lounge Dan puts the cake on the table to wish Jessy finally all the best. "So how do we eat it now? We’re definitely not allowed to use cutlery in here" Jessy looks at us questioningly. "You’re right, that’s why the cake has already been cut, and Cleo brought a pack of napkins, which should be enough" Richy explains. After eating the cake, Jessy bought some drinks for all. Now you’re all back on the dance floor. So slowly you start to sweat and also you get a little dizzy. "I’m going outside for a minute, get some fresh air" you call out. "Shall we come with you?" Dan asks directly and looks worried. "No, I’ll be fine. I need a little rest, there must be other guys outside. And if the man without a face kidnaps me, look for me and hit him"

"Okay, but if you’re not back in 20 minutes, we’ll come looking for you," Dan warns you.

"Okay, dad, do that" you wink at him and start squeezing you through the people.

Shortly thereafter, you open the door and step out into the night.

Immediately, the cold wind hits you, goose bumps spread on your arms and you take a deep breath.

Immediately you relax a little.

Further away is a small group who smoke and laugh.

Well, you’re not alone, and even if the bouncers are still there. And the way they look, the man without a face has no chance of kidnapping you. You lean back against the cold wall and close your eyes for a moment.

You didn’t expect it to be so cold and folded your arms in front of your chest to protect your arms a little.

Enjoying the tranquility you do not notice the steps that come to you.

"Hey, there you are" suddenly sounds.

Immediately you flinch and jump away from the person.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you" Phil looks at you.

"Oh my God, never do that again" you hiss and hold your hand to your chest to calm your heart, which beats twice as fast as usual.

"All right? You’re pale.Did you get so scared?" he grins at you. "Of course, you know I’m trying to find a missing girlfriend? It can happen that one is more frightened than usual" you explain.

"Why are you out here all alone, you’re right, there’s a murderer running around, it’s pretty irresponsible of you."

"Or are you seeing the kidnapper?" he jokes.

"Haha, no, I was just warm and I needed some fresh air, and what are you doing here?"

"The same" he mumbles and brings a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of the shirt he is wearing over the tshirt.

"Any?" he asks.

Considering you look at the box he’s holding out to you.

You were just reaching for it when you saw a movement across the street, it looked like a man. You look at the street light in a flash, but there’s nothing.

"Everything okay?" asks Jessy’s brother.

"Yes, everything is fine, thank you, I do not want any" you refuse the cigarettes.

"How do you like the evening so far?"

"Very good, and how do you like it?" you answer his question.

"It’s okay, but the night is still young, so much can happen or not?" he breathes.

Oh no, please don’t.

"Uh, sure?" your answer sounds more like an overwhelmed question.

"Where do you sleep?"

"in Jessy’s apartment" you answer and try not to show how unpleasant the situation is.

"You can sleep with me too" he grins at you. "Oh, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea," you mumble and nervously rub a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why not? Do you have a boyfriend?"

You look at him annoyed.

"No, I don’t, it’s complicated, but I’m not the type for One Night Stands" you explain.

"It doesn’t have to be just one night" he laughs.

"Okay, just kidding please don’t hit me" he grins.

You roll your eyes.

"But you noticed when we wrote that I thought you are pretty" he adds.

"Phil.." Actually, you want to tell him that he should stop but you were interrupted.

"I think that were enough jokes for this night" you hear a dark voice behind Phil talking. Phil scares out and turns around. You were expecting Dan, but that’s definitely not Dan. "Wow, who are you?" Phil asks. In front of him stands a dark-clad man. The hood of his black jacket is pulled over his head. Instead of a face, you look at the face of a staring mask. That one mask you missed so much. "It doesn’t matter, but now you should stop giving MC a bad feeling" hisses the man who’s obviously Jake. "Oh, and who are you to speak for MC? She can say that by herself or not?" hisses Phil. "She can, and she certainly would, but if you had looked out for her, you would have seen that she was not feeling well. So go back inside and leave her alone. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of her" the voice sounds a little mechanical but not like the one he usually uses. But distorting a voice in the mask would also be weird. But wouldn’t surprise you either.

Instead of interfering, you’re frozen in the same place. Your mouth is open with amazement and you forget to blink.

"You are threatening me?" Phil keep provoking. He’s not a man who likes to take orders.

"Never mess with a person you don’t know, you never know what the person is capable of. I could destroy your whole life, Philipp Hoppkins. Owner of the bar Aurora. I even know the name of your first girlfriend"

Jake is a little bit taller than Phil.

It looks a little creepy the way he looking down on Phil from above and holding his head slightly crooked.

"Are you a stalker or why do you know everything about me?" Phil looks confused at Jake.

"That also doesn’t matter, but if you want to keep your bar, get out of here now" Jake’s voice sounds like a warning. "You’re really threatening me," hisses Phil.

"No, I just gave you a hint," counters Jake.

Finally you come back in the real world, you had to realize for a moment that Jake was there, he was here, he is one meter in front of you.

"Is it really you?" you breathe overwhelmed.

Jake’s head is moving in your direction and you realize he’s nodding to you.

As if Phil wasn’t there, Jake slips past him and stops in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" you immediately ask.

"I wanted to..I wanted to see if everything is okay, how you are" he whispers.

"Why? Where have you been? Are you okay? Are you safe?" the questions just pop out of you. "I’m sorry, MC, I don’t have much time. The important thing is that I was worried that you were in Duskwood so I wanted to check on you to make sure everything was okay."

"Please, Jake, can’t you stay a day or something?" you beg him.

"MC please, it’s not safe here," he whispers.

"I’m weird because I’m flirting with you, but you’re talking to the masked guy?" Phil suddenly asks.

You look at him hard and you reach for Jake’s hand.

You feel his whole body tense as you pull him away from Phillip.

A few feet away, you stop to talk alone to the hacker. "Jake, please, we can meet at the motel. I’m sure Lilly can help us, so no one can see us at the motel.Please, I have so many questions and I’m worried about you"

You can hear him sighing.

At this moment, you wish the mask away so you can see his reaction.

It’s quiet for almost a minute.

"Jake please" is your breath.

He’s growling.

"That’s not good, MC, that’s dangerous, you’re dangerous, dangerous to me," he murmurs.

Dangerous for him? That sounds kind of hot but also like an insult.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"I should have left long ago, but I’m still standing here and I feel like I’m having a heart attack. my heart is beating so fast it can't be healthy" he calmly explains. "Are your persecutors so close to you or why is your heart beating so fast?" you ask him uncertainly. "No MC that’s not the reason, I have a bit of a lead right now which is why I can be here" "Are you scared about the raven guy?" "God MC no, because of you! Because of you it beats so fast, that’s why I’m still here, because I missed you" "Ohhhh ah" you murmur and you notice how your cheeks turn red. A little moment it’s quiet between you both. "I was hoping for a reaction," Jake whispers, wanting to take a step back. before he can move, you hug him tight. He breathes in surprised Again, you realize how he’s tense.

But shortly afterwards he relaxes and also put his arms around you.

His smell draws into your nose and clouds your mind. It feels as if all the problems and every difficulty just falls from your soul.You automatically feel safe and secure. It’s like a switch in your head flipping.

A few moments ago it was cold and now you are warm, cuddly warm and beautiful. And you know right away that you want that feeling that you’ve only felt with Jake, forever.

Forever in your life, forever by your side.

Him by your side forever. This hacker whose face you don’t know, whose identity you don’t really know, who is wanted by the government, this hacker has sneaked directly into your heart with his sweet nature. And that’s where you want to keep him.

"I missed you too, Jake, you can’t imagine how much" you sniffed. You can’t control it, you’ve been so worried about Jake that you’re just relieved to see him. In addition, you have already drunk one or the other glass of alcohol today and therefore your senses are already a little foggy. "Are you crying?" you hear Jake asking. You press your head firmly against his chest and hide your head under his arm lying around your shoulder. "No," you snifed again. "Yes, you do, look at me, Mc," he breathes and pushes you away to look at you. "Why?" he asks quietly. "I was just worried! I didn’t know until just now if you were caught by the government or if you were safe. And now you’re standing in front of me." "I’m sorry, really, but I also have to think about you, if they catch me, and find everything, you’re in danger. You hacked with me. Not all of this, but simply trusting a hacker and hacking a stranger’s cell phone is also illegal" he explains objectively. "Couldn’t you at least get in touch once? So much has happened where I needed you.I know you can’t help it. I don’t want to blame you, but I was alone. The others from the group were by my side but that’s not the same as with you. Besides, Hannah and I don’t know each other. I can look at everything objectively and at the same time have to consider whether Jessy or one of the others is acting out of emotions. I talk too much for that you don’t have time I’m sorry" your voice sounds desperate.

"You don’t have to be sorry, I have to be sorry. And I want to protect you, that’s all I care about, that you’re safe."

Overwhelmed by what you’re supposed to do, you push your body back again Jake's. "Your action with #IamJake helped me, by the way.For that I thank you and say thank you to Lilly.That means a lot to me." he murmurs. "Jake, all these people, they don’t know you, and they’re behind you. Behind you and me, behind Hannah. Please, Jake, come back to me." "MC...I’m sorry, I can’t" Jake’s voice sounds desperate. Just like yours, you’re desperate, you don’t know what to do. There’s only one logical reaction for you before you let him go again. Now all you have to do is hope everything goes well. Breath in, breath out. Without warning you put your hand on the mask and pull it up only so far that you get to Jake’s lips. You quickly stand on your toes, reach for the collar of his jacket and pull him down to you. Before he has a chance to move, you press your lips on his. If only you could see his reaction now, his face. Or maybe read his mind. A flood of happiness hormones is spreading through your body. Even if Jake doesn’t move, this is the best moment of your life. His lips feel soft, soft and perfect for yours. If you haven’t been in love by that point, you’ll be in love by now. This sad conversation was perfect in your eyes, even if it was sad, it was with Jake. Just as quickly as you kissed him, you break away from him. God, did you really do that? Why you do that? You see the kiss as a kind of goodbye to him and you just want to get out of here, away from this place. You didn’t know if he wanted to. In addition, he had a mask on. Actually, that should be reason enough not to kiss someone. Before you can run,Jake grabs your wrist and before you can react, you feel his lips on yours this time.

He’s kissing you now.

HE KISSES YOU.

HE KISSES YOU!

Quickly he pulls his head away. You look at him, the mask is gone, he holds it in his hand. "God damn it," you murmur and wrap your arms around his neck. Desperately, you kiss him again. Desperate to see him next time, whether you’ll ever see him again. Whether he will be free or whether his persecutors will catch him. You don’t know all that things, and you don’t know how to go on, how you can ever live normally. Yes, quite dramatically to think like that but this boy has something about himself that immediately captured and fascinated you. But what you just said about the best moment of your life was a lie. This is the most beautiful moment in your life. Because this time, you both want it, without being surprised by the other, you kiss like there’s no next day. As if all you have is this brief moment between you, this moment of uncertainty about the future, about everything. Because actually, this has been your life for months, but you love it, you love the people you’ve met. Hell, even Lilly made you like her.

You have become a team, and Jake is also part of that team.

You were like a family, and right now you’re planning on moving to Duskwood as fast as you can. You want to live here, with your friends, with the best friends you can have, they’re so different, but they’re still the same. You want to live here, with Jessy, with Cleo, with Richy, with Dan, with Thomas, with Lilly, also with Hannah, and of course with Jake. You knew from that moment that is the best decision of your life would be. A life full of joy, happiness and great people around you until you’re old, and even then. As in a book "To Death and Much More" But this is not a book but the real life, the life where you’re kissing a man who’s perfect for you in your eyes. Your lips move perfectly to each other as if it were the only thing you ever did, the only thing that ever counted. Admittedly, you didn’t expect Jake to be able to kiss so well.That sounds mean, but he seems to have been lonely the last years. Even if it took you a while to kiss, you are breaking away from each other far too quickly. You feel drunk, whether it’s alcohol or the kiss, you don’t know, but probably both. Your knees tremble from the adrenaline flowing through your veins. Your heart is racing and your hands are shaking easily. "Tomorrow at the motel. Please ask Lilly to find a solution where we will not be seen. And be careful the rest of the evening, and please stop drinking so much alcohol. I taste the tequila." Without waiting for your answer, he turns around and disappears towards darkness. He puts the mask back on while running. Like in a movie, a car gets hit and makes a full stop right in front of Jake. He opens the door, gets in, closes the door again and the car drives on. And again, you’re standing there with your mouth open, staring at Jake. "Oh, my God" you hear a woman say. Your head turns in the direction of the voice, you look into Jessy’s eyes. She stares at you and holds a hand in front of her mouth.She seems to be more shocked than you. You’re being stared at by all your friends standing next to Jessy and just as overwhelmed as you are. Right, Dan wanted to come after 20 minutes to see if everything was okay. Like trapped in a dream, you turn your head back to the spot where Jake stood with the car seconds ago. Jessy comes running at you. "Was that HE?" she asked immediately. "MC’s all right with you?" you hear Dan worried. They keep asking you things, but you just can’t answer. "Tomorrow at the motel," you hear Jake’s voice in your head. Jessy waves her hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Tomorrow at the motel," you hear his voice again. "MC Hello? Can you hear me?" "Shit, tomorrow at the motel, but what time?" you call out. "MC talk to us now" Lilly begs. "Lilly I need to talk to you! You need to give me a motel room.Is there a back entrance? Where someone can come into the building secretly? A hidden room? I’m also satisfied with a storage room" the words just flow out of you.

"Um, yeah?" Lilly looks at you confused.

"Okay, I need a plan, explain the way, and best time, do you have to work tomorrow?"

"No, I have free time, but tomorrow, Miss Walter will be there. And since the body appeared and Hannah is gone, we have almost no guests. Nobody wants to go to Duskwood at the moment" she explains. "That’s perfect, okay, explain to me how to get in without anyone seeing you" you demand.

"Tell us what happened first" Jessy tries to make you talk.

"MC, that was Jake, wasn’t it?" Dan calmly asks you.

"Yes, yes, he was, and I’ll meet him tomorrow" you said excitedly. No one say a word. Jessy has hiccups. "You’ll have sex tomorrow" she giggles. At the same time as Lilly, you call Jessy’s name as a warnin, she just twitches her shoulders and drinks a sip her glass. You are sighing. "Dan? I need a glass of whiskey now"

I hope you enjoyed it🎭🌹.

Masterlist

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #duskwood jake #duskwood Jake x player #duskwood Jake x mc #everbyte game #everbyte duskwood #duskwood fanfiction

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one-leaf-grimoire · 3 years

Text

“triad”

Chapter 10: the nightmare

Chapter ten, yay!!!!

Slight warnings: The main character goes through a LOT of self loathing, and has a brief suicidal thought. Also, there's like a slightly sensual implication... you'll see. Nothing too weird I just wanted to preface it with this warning.

AO3 link

“Preparations should be complete within a month. We’re gathering our best Spirit Guardians to train your Knights, and I promise that we will produce major results!”

The Heart Queen is a pretty young woman, who looks about as old as I do, her figure adorned in fine cloaks and medallions. A beauty spot beneath her lip completes her look in the most regal fashion possible. Seeing her sends a chill down my back, even though we only ever meet through a screen. The sight of the crown atop her head makes mine look a little lackluster in comparison. But none of that matters right now.

“Thank you, Lolopechka! You’ve really gone above and beyond for us.”

Lolopechka smiles gently out at me and shakes her head. “No, you’re the one who will be helping us.”

“We help each other… that’s what allies are for, right?” I smile up at her before turning to the others. All nine captains are here to listen to Lolopechka’s update. “In a month, please have some candidates in mind for the training. They should be the people with the most potential to move up to the 1st or 2nd stage.”

The stage system was a little confusing at first, but it didn’t take long for me to accept it as the best way to rank our magical abilities. My flame magic alone was close, if not already at stage 1. And my Dyad magic, of course, is Arcane. Arcane mages are those whose powers could probably defeat a devil already. But that’s not an excuse for me to slack off.

The worst outcome of this situation is that the Spade Kingdom defeats everyone we send at them. We have no idea about any of Megicula’s powers except the fact that it can set curses on people. If Megicula is much stronger than we realized, then our knights will have no defence against the unknown. I’m hoping to stay out of the actual fight and command from afar. But if Megicula and the Spade Kingdom come knocking at our door…

There’s a very real chance that I’ll have to fight it myself. While being seven months pregnant.

So… I need to be strong enough to survive that battle. It might be difficult, but I have to…

I pick my hand off of my stomach, where it had been laying all this time, as I stand up after the meeting ends.

For me… for Julius.

And that leads me to this moment, a moment I’ve been dreading this whole meeting. Each of the captains says goodbye, filing past me and out into the corridor. I smile and nod at each of them, but extend my arm to stop the last woman from passing.

“Dorothy… do you have a few moments?”

.… oh god… this is going to go badly, I already know it…

“Hmm? Yes, of course!” Dorothy stops in her tracks, bouncing a bit as she turns to look up at me. I’m not the tallest, but somehow I almost have to bend over to look her in the eye. The small witch has been awake for the last few meetings, a pleasant contrast to her usual slumber. She has a cheery, bubbly personality, and a smile that almost forces my anxiety out of my mind.

Almost.

“There’s… something I wanted to ask.”

…

Dorothy blinks up at me, her smile only fading slightly when she catches a glimpse of my worry through my face.

“Your dream magic… it allows you to create anything within your Glamour World, right?”

Oh god oh god.

This is going to sound bad, I know it. But I’m on my last straw. The meditation training has gone nowhere so far, only making me stress out more and feel hopeless.

“Yeah! Anything I want… I can even manifest things from your mind, if you go in there. Why do you ask? Do you need me to simulate something for you?”

I’m scared of the future. Not just for me, but for the Kingdom. Each day goes by smoothly, too smoothly, and gives me too much time to worry about the war looming on our horizon. People could die, my friends could die, civilians could die. If there’s any information about the Devils laying in the Simulcian’s past, I’m sure it will help us.

Because, I know… if anyone dies, it will be my fault. I’m the Wizard King, and I promised that I would protect this Kingdom with every ounce of my life.

Every… single ounce.

If my death leads to our victory… I will accept that.

“Can you… let me see Julius?”

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

Last night, Adeline and I stayed up late, trying our best to clear my head and sink into the meditative state I crave. As the hours passed, it got harder and harder, until I was afraid to close my eyes for even a moment.

“Maybe… I know why it’s been so hard for you.”

I can remember how it felt as she held me, my body giving out and exhausted. I wanted to cry, to let all my emotions out, but I couldn’t.

“My grief, right?”

Grief.

No, it’s something more than that. More than loss, more than emptiness. Something I don’t have words to describe. Yet, it’s a feeling that’s distinctly human. And maybe that’s why I can’t bring myself to emote, why I can’t let my emotions show. Because I’m not human.

Why… why did Julius leave this to me? His Kingdom full of humans, left to someone who will never truly care about the affairs of humans?

It was then that the tears started to fall.

How… how can you expect me to be selfless? How can you expect me to be able to protect them?

I want to protect them, I want nothing more than to die for them. To die just as Julius did, to save countless people and igraine myself as a martyr for all time.

But… I could never do that, right?

“I…

I hate myself.”

The words are sour in my mouth. Foreign. All my life, all I could ever feel towards myself was love. I loved myself, more than almost anything. But that was because Julius loved me, right? And his soul loved me too…

But now, that love has faded, extinguished from this world along with his life.

“I hate myself… I hate myself…”

I could hardly feel Adeline anymore, her words falling onto my deaf ears.

For a brief moment, I looked down, into the void. And it consumed me.

It’s a curse, right??? The Dyad’s curse. I flew too close to the sun, and got used to the warmth of its rays. And when I fell back to earth… there’s nothing but the cold.

Nothing. Not the Kingdom. Not Adeline. Not my friends. Not even the baby. And not myself.

I’m the worst… the most selfish person in this world. I stole this position from people who deserved it more than me.

I’ll never be able to be like Julius… never… never…

So… what’s the point?

Why even try, if there’s nothing to build even the foundation of hope upon.

“I… I want…”

I want to die-

Fortunately, those words don’t pass my lips. I just cry into Adeline’s shoulder as we sit on the floor of my bedroom. Julius’s cold, empty robe lays folded by my pillow like it always has.

“Grief is hard, I know that. I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel.”

Adeline’s voice vibrates pleasantly through her chest as I lay my head against it.

“But… maybe what you need is closure. Do you have any idea how to get there?”

Closure…

Without closure, I’ll never be able to move on, and be strong for the Kingdom. The ultimate enemy I need to defeat isn’t Megicula; it’s me. If I can’t get over my weaknesses, I’ll never be able to protect anyone.

But how am I supposed to get closure.

If only… there was a way to talk to him again.

Wait…

There is a way.��

Oh no…

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

“...what?!”

Dorothy’s eyes blow open wider in shock as my words sink in. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before coming to her senses. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“I know, I don’t think so either.” Embarrassed, I avert my eyes, feeling my chest start to tighten. “But… it might help.”

That’s right… for the good of the kingdom, I have to feel better. And if this has the slightest chance of making me feel better, I have to try it!

“Look…” I turn back towards her as I feel her dainty hand gently touch my arm. Dorothy’s cheery aura is gone, concern straining her eyes as she stares up at me. “It might make you feel worse.”

… I know that. But I don’t think I could feel any worse than I do now.

“Please… Dorothy…”

I look down at her with pleading eyes.

She stares up at me for a long moment, then lets out a defeated sigh. “Fine… but I’m not going in there with you.” She reaches down and takes out her Grimoire. “Is thirty minutes okay?”

I nod quickly, giving her a relieved smile. “Yes, that’s perfect… thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.” Something tells me that she doesn’t really mean that. Dorothy gives me one more look before clearing her throat. “Here we go… Dream Magic: Glamour World.”

A puff of mana, and the meeting room disappears. I blink my eyes a few times as the scene fades in. It’s whimsical, with clouds and sparkles of pink and purple floating through the air. “Wow… this is Glamour World?” I turn around in place, my feet standing firmly upon their own cloud. I’ve never seen this spell purposely, and am not entirely sure how it works. But this is a landscape created for me by Dorothy, specifically for me. And soon…

“Darling! There you are!”

Up until this point, I was nervous and anxious, yes, but also almost giddy at the thought of seeing Julius again. I was sure that seeing him would give me the closure I needed. If I had to, I could return to this place again and again, satiating my need for him even if it was a synthetic remedy. But the moment I hear that voice, his voice…

My blood runs cold.

Slowly, I turn around, and see a man walking towards me. Tall, blonde, handsome, with a smile that could light up an entire room. One that could light up an entire dark life.

And yet…

I can’t bring myself to smile, or even move, as Julius runs to my side, his arms immediately pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace. After a moment, I hesitantly hug back.

This is… wrong…

He pulls back to smile down at me. His eyes still sparkle like they did in life, his unbridled joy plain upon his face. I can’t even resist smiling back, even if I can feel my heart skinking.

Because, even if I can see him, and touch him… it’s not him. The only parts of Julius truly left on this world are a shard of a soul and a baby in my belly. This thing… it isn’t him.

“It’s been far too long…” He smiles gently, but it still breaks my heart. Julius’s hand comes up to cup my face. “You’re the Wizard King, right?”

I blink a few times, then nod slowly. Julius laughs heartily, his eyes closing for a moment. “Well, then, you have a lot to tell me! I want to hear all about it… but not now.”

There’s nothing I can do but stand there, petrified, as Julius leans in, his other arm snaking around my waist and pulling me closer.

“There’s so much that I want to do with you… now that we’re together again.”

Oh… Julius…

His lips hit mine in a hurried kiss, as if he knows this moment is fleeting, something that will never last, something that will just make the world even worse than it already is. But there’s no way he knows that; he’s just an illusion, a broken dream, despair disguised as hope.

This is…

The clouds turn dark purple, like the sky before a storm. The void grows a little bigger.

But despite that, I close my eyes, and cling to his body like it’s the only thing real in this world. I kiss him back with all my might, giving into my desire, into the temptation and selfishness that threatens to destroy everything.

... a nightmare.

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

I open my eyes to see him staring down at me with worry. His thumb comes up and brushes something off my cheek; a tear.

“Are you alright?”

I can feel his skin against mine now. His heat. But it’s cold.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Julius… please… keep going.”

Twenty minutes later, and we still lay there together in the clouds. I still hold him, and he holds me.

This is just like every night we spent together… every night I slept in his arms, heard him snore away in his sleep. Forgotten sounds, sounds that echo like a curse in my soul…

“So… how is it? Being Wizard King?”

Julius is just making idle conversation, moving between subjects aimlessly. But the words Wizard King draw my attention. I look up to see him tilt his head to the side curiously, eager to hear. “Not as easy as it seems, hmm?”

“Yeah…”

Not as easy…

“It’s too much paperwork… not enough fighting! Although, I bet you’ll be doing plenty of that soon.” Julius giggles to himself. “But you’ll be great, I know it.”

“... I don’t know…”

“Hmm?” Julius frowns, his smile only fading slightly. “Why wouldn’t you? I picked you, didn’t I?” Julius reaches out and slides his hand over my head, a pat meant to be comforting, but I almost wince.

Only ten more minutes… I just want this to end.

“...you…”

Thick tears start to bubble up in my throat.

“...made a mistake… I…”

The volcano erupts. My hands desperately try to cover my shame as the tears fall, my body racking with sobs.

Fuck… FUCK THIS!

I want it to end. This nightmare- no- this life.

But I can’t… I’m trapped…

“Darling! Ah! What is it?! Mistake!?” Julius’s hands rub my shoulders as he frantically speaks, just as he always did in life. “My sweet, you’re not a mistake! You- AH, I’m sorry! This is something I said, right? Hey, look at me-” His hand tries to grab my chin and gently make me look at him. “How do I make this right-”

“You can’t!”

I bat his hand away and sit up, his face blurry through the veil of tears in my eyes. Anger, frustration, emptiness, it’s finally all coming out, every emotion I had been suppressing until now.

“You can’t make this right… you’re dead!” I cover my face again, not wanting to look at him right now. “You… you died, remember?! And that’s why I’m in this mess! You…” I clench my fist, my hands dropping to my shoulders so I can hug myself. “You died… and left me alone…”

It’s a curse… I’m all alone.

“Darling-”

It’s because of you… that I hate myself. Because…

“I’ll never be a good Wizard King… I don’t want to be a good Wizard King. I just- I can never do what you did, Julius.”

My nails start to dig into the flesh of my hand.

“Y-you… why...”

My voice weakens, then sharply erupts again with my next words.

“Why?! Why did you tell me that you loved me more than anything?! Why would you say that, then die for the Kingdom?!”

He loved me more than he loved the Kingdom, yet he sacrificed that love for it.

He can’t answer me. I know he can’t. He’s not Julius. He doesn’t have the answers. But I keep asking anyway, desperate to let the questions out and relieve myself of their frustrations.

Julius died… he didn’t have to die, but he did. He refused to kill Patri, he refused to save himself. A selfless act, and yet…

I can’t look at that act with anything but bitterness. Because now I know, I wish he had let it burn.

It doesn’t matter how many people died… it doesn’t matter who was hurt. All that matters is that we were together. Yet, he betrayed that promise… he betrayed me.

But he was right.

Julius had no choice but to die. He had no choice but to give up on his love, right? But the thing that makes me feel the worst…

“If I had been there… in your shoes…”

I would have done the selfish thing. I know it.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. It’s quiet.

“And now… because you’re gone… there’s nothing left for me.”

I relax my hand, looking down at my palm. Blood trickles out of the cuts I accidentally clenched into the skin.

“I… I wish I could have died with you.”

For some reason, saying those words…

It feels good.

I’m the Wizard King, yet I’m the most selfish person in the Kingdom.

That’s it… the thing I hate most about myself.

“This world is so empty without you… there’s nothing but the memory of your love.”

My voice starts to strengthen again. I let out a breath through my nose, and my eyes close.

“I… I want to destroy it.”

There…

“A world without you… I don’t want it to exist.”

The tears that flow now aren’t hot and angry. They’re cool… almost refreshing.

I said it… I admitted it…

“I want to destroy this world, along with this emptiness. I want to erase it all.”

The words hang in the air, no one around to hear but Julius’s image.

And somehow… I smile.

Why… nothing’s changed.

But… I said it.

Were those words weighing me down this whole time? Maybe, my obstacle was never my grief, but my self loathing, brought on by an annoying, intrusive thought.

I’m selfish… I know that. I’m not human. I know that. I’m evil…

No. There’s no such thing as evil.

And anyway… Julius knew all this about me. And… he still loved me.

For the first time, I feel a pulse of warmth from within me.

His soul… stirring.

“Darling…”

I feel a hand on my chin, and this time, I don’t resist. I let him draw my gaze back into his. My eyes widen a bit when I realize that he’s been smiling at me this whole time, a relieved, almost comforted smile, despite everything I just said.

“Do you really think… my love is that weak?”

“...huh?”

His eyes close for a moment, as if he’s amused by my confusion. “Listen… My love still exists in this world. And it’s so strong, it will linger for eternity.” His thumbs come up and start to wipe away more tears. “It’s out there… I promise.”

Julius leans in, one last time, as the scene starts to fade away and I’m drawn back into the real world.

Somehow… I know that I’ll be able to face it a little stronger than before.

Maybe this isn’t the closure of my grief. It’s closure for myself.

Because, what am I?

I’m not human… I don’t even know if I’m a simulcian.

I’m a soul, a soul whose ego has been shattered again and again. A girl who wants nothing more than to give in to the temptation of destruction.

But… now I know… despite that, Julius loved me more than anything. He died for duty, but his love lingers on.

“You just have to find it.”

I will…

I’ll find it, Julius.

And for the first time in weeks, hope blooms in my chest.

Next time!!! Chapter 11: the curse. A second decent into the Simulcian unconscious reveals something sinister: the Dyad's curse runs much deeper than anyone ever thought.

#triad #fic #ajfksdl #Lisa's self loathing is coming out-#black clover #oc: lisa #oc: adeline

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mil-unloaded · 4 years

Text

I already did a post welcoming you to my little slice of the internet, but I wanted to say a little bit more about my childhood. So if you don’t want to read some triggering stuff, you should probably move along.

I grew up in an abusive home with a narcissistic mother. What this ultimately did to my brothers and I is generally hard to describe. However know that we’re all in therapy, we’re all atheist or agnostic (they’re atheist, I’m agnostic—I believe in an after life, so I can’t Willy Nilly call myself atheist), and we all have moderate to severe anxiety. I specifically developed moderate OCD— my obsession is my relationships with others, and my checking behavior is asking if everything is ok with us. I tend to think that I’ve done something wrong when there’s a lapse in communication, even if you’re just busy living your life (seriously, ask my loved ones). We’ve all had weight problems most if not all of our lives, because we all turned to food for comfort. I was being bullied at home and at school. I was frequently told comments about my body, and how no one would ever love me because I’m fat, or because I’m stupid.

Why am I diving into this further? Not for your sympathy or to be treated with kid gloves, but because I’ve been through it, and you might have, too. I always wondered whether or not either of my parents loved me, and I still wonder to this day. My mom was abusive, I would go to my dad and tell him what she did or said, and it would fall on deaf ears. My dad was an enabler. He always said he married someone like his dad, and that he didn’t get along with his dad...but he never did anything to try to shelter us from our mom’s abuse. He just kept letting it come down on us. And often he would hit us because our mom instructed him to because she was SO angry with us that she just couldn’t hit us “in the way we deserved.” He never stood up to her, and for that we all label him a door mat, or that he has no spine. To this day she’s yelling at him all of the time. On the outside we have this facade as a family, that everything is ok. That mom is a “good mom,” she says things to strangers like “I just don’t know, I try to help Mil/C/A as much as I can, but I just don’t get it, they keep struggling.” Which is a hardcore manipulation. One of these days I should share with you guys the Characteristics of Narcissistic Parents, and let you know that she checks off all but 2 things on the list. Out of 24, I believe.

I still remember, I don’t remember what I did, not that it matters. I should preface this by saying: No matter what you did, or what you will ever do...you DO NOT deserve to have a parent hurt you, in any capacity. I still remember when I was 15 or 16. I really pissed off my mom. I don’t know what I did—I’ll say it again, it doesn’t matter what I did, I didn’t deserve this. My dad barged into my room, and he proceeded to strangle me until I was crying. He finally let go, and slammed my door on the way out. When I woke up the next morning after struggling to fall asleep all night, still terrified, I found a note slid under my door. “I’m sorry Sister Bear, you know I love you.” Sister Bear has always been his name for me. I remember from that point on I couldn’t trust my dad for shit.

A year ago or so, my brothers and I started going to lunch to talk about our experiences growing up in that house. What you should know is narcissistic parents tend to triangulate, and pit their children against each other all in an effort to get the children to seek for constant approval. For example, my mom would use me as the golden child when it was convenient to get A to do her bidding. Then she would turn around to me, and use C as the golden child, to get me to do what she wanted. We were all the golden child or scape goat when it was important to her. In a typical narcissistic parent, they tend to have one golden child and one scape goat. There was always a clear favorite child. In our family it was unique. My mom was her own favorite person. We were not her favorites. To be frank, my parents had no business having children. My mom was the abusive narcissist and my dad was the enabler. My dad was just as bad as her because he never stopped anything—it’s still abuse. Anyhow, all of my life, brother A always treated me like crap. Always would “junk yard dog” me at family get togethers to appease my mom. Verbally attacking me at any whim. Seriously, he was an extension of my mom. Why? Because his narrative was that I was the golden child. I was to be protected. “You know Mil, she’s just so sensitive.” It’s not that I was sensitive, but I was always being attacked by everyone but my brother C. So yes, I spent a lot of my childhood crying. I heard that I needed to “just grow a thicker skin” by my mom. And when I told her about the kids bullying me at school about my weight, or appearance, I would be met with “Well did you stop to think that maybe they’re right?” ...You’re sympathizing with my bullies. There’s something wrong with you.

So to sum up the part about us going to lunch—C informed A that no, I’ve been through the wringer, too. I’m in therapy, and I’ve been medicated, and I’ve been working on myself for the last 7 years. I’m not just sitting here twiddling my thumbs and getting all of this imaginary praise he seems to think I’m getting. I get “praise” by her using it to make C and A feel bad. C told me once, “Mom thinks you’re her best friend because you reply to text messages quickly.” Uhhh...No. I reply to text messages quickly, in general, because of my OCD. I hate feeling that I’m left hanging. So if you ask me a question, or your text warrants a reply? I reply ASAP. If I don’t have a definite answer, I’ll tell you, find the answer, and then tell you the answer. I hate leaving people hanging. I hate making people feel like they aren’t important or their needs aren’t important—because I’ve been met with that feeling my entire life. So we have had lunch a few times, and were gearing up for our next lunch when COVID hit, so obviously there was a hold on that. My brothers and I are aware of the truth now, and we’re all working together to heal each other, because no matter how many times we call my mother out on her shit, the same thing happens. “I didn’t say that,” “I didn’t do that,” “I would never do that,” “If I did, maybe you deserved it, did you think about that?”

If you think you might be dealing with a narcissist in your life—a true abusive narcissist, and you want to chat, please don’t hesitate to send me a message. I decided that I was done drinking the proverbial Kool-Aid. I’m done pretending that we have a perfect relationship, because we don’t. The outward appearance is what my mom has carefully molded our entire life. And I’m done with it. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, and my mom is DEFINITELY not my best friend.

#narcissistic parents #childhood abuse #abuse #tw: abuse #childhood #bullying

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getuponthehydrasback · 5 years

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What het fans don’t get about Sokai vs SoRiku discourse

I preface this with saying I was a Sokai fan for years when I was younger (still like the ship) and my primary ship is sorikai (or any combination of the destiny trio tbh)

There’s a lot of implicit homophobia or tonedeafness in a lot of het Sokai fans responses to ship comments. This isn’t about the ships themselves but rather fan behavior. What fans don’t get specifically about queer kingdom hearts fans is that so often in media there exists so much queer subtext. So many narratives that we see and pick up on and it never gets confirmed. This is known as queerbaiting which I won’t go into more detail here but there’s lots of info about queer baiting. Another thing is that queer folks constantly have to live in a world where we are defending that we’re not delusion for reading queerness into things and seeing ourselves reflected in media. For so many queer fans of kingdom hearts it’s not actually about the ship, it’s about our narratives being represented.

Now in kingdom hearts in particular the lines between romantic and platonic are never really defined, for a franchaise aboht love and tenderness and all of these themes it’s such a versitile platform that being said there is a ton of queer coding in these games. As a queer person I can see that regardless of if I like a ship or not. (There’s tons of ships in this game that I’m like okay I don’t ship it but the queer coding is THERE). What queer fans are even more irked by is the underdevelopment of Kairi and sora mostly because the overall underdevelopment of Kairi as a character.

Kairi is not given a personality, she exists to further soras character and be a damsel he must save. This is why despite liking Sokai as a ship I *hate* canon Sokai. There is no development of their relationship platonic or romantic. We barely hear anything from Kairi. The only reason it is a “canon” ship doesn’t have to do with any actual development of the relationship but merely because she’s a girl and soras a boy. THAT is what irks queer fans. Not what the narrative is *suppose* to be but how it is actually executed. And this is something that also irks me as someone who’s queer and a fan of Sokai in some contexts.

And yes queer fans do have a right to be irked at queer baiting. We have a right to be frustrated with knowing the same compulsory heterosexuality we are all too familiar with in real life is playing out in the media we consume. And when het fans minimize that, guess what you become a part of the larger course of het folks who perpetuate heteronormativity. Note I’m not saying the ship itself or all Sokai fans but rather those who are not critical or minimize legitimate points queer fans bring up.

There’s nothing wrong with shipping Sokai, but as the narrative stands it’s only canon because it’s het and that does a disservice to soriku and Sokai fans. It does a disservice to queer fans regardless of ships. And I’m so tired of it. Let queer people be angry that we got done dirty by this and so much other media. So many het Sokai fans can be tone deaf to the actual implications and larger structures and its fucking exhausting. Like ship whoever you want but you can’t deny that queer baiting is a thing that happens in this game and you can’t blame queer folks for being upset about that.

And also let’s be real they’re all useless bisexuals in love with eachother.

#kingdom hearts #sokai #soriku #sorikai #kingfom hearts 3 #queerbaiting

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goldendiie · 5 years

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as the sun sets fillmore dies, and sarge copes.

. . . .

1979

Fillmore is dying. Sarge knows that much. It’s been a month (or maybe two, or three) since he’d been admitted to some hospital in Albuquerque, and five days since they’d stopped letting Sarge into the room. Not Family, the Nurse had said, an apologetic, red lipstick smile plastered on her face. Bullshit, Sarge had replied. Still, she didn’t let him in.

He goes to the hospital every day, only to sit in the waiting room and stare at the same point in the wall, anxiously waiting for any news. He thinks, maybe Fillmore will just get up and walk out, completely healed by some miracle that Sarge would never be able to describe. Any second now. Any second…. No. No, that’s childish. He gets up, and makes for the door.

As he faces the bustle of the outside world, a part of him wants someone (a nurse? A doctor?) to run up behind him and tell him to stay. He’s been asking for you, they’d say, you can see him now. He pushes open the door, and walks into the dying sunlight. Nobody calls after him, nobody is completely healed.

He returns the next day, like he always does. The secretary remembers his name.

Sarge watches the people who come through the waiting room. They’re here to see sick grandparents, newborn children. Lovers, parents, friends. He begins to fall into space, lost in the cycle of existence that he had come to know. Fillmore is dying. Fillmore could be dead, for all he knows. Maybe they’re removing him from his hospital room now, making it all neat and proper for the next dead man to pass through its door--

“You’re here for Fillmore, right?”

He snaps out of it, and looks up. He’s met with the same careful, sad, red lipstick smile that he’d seen a few days prior. Sarge must look awfully pale, or awfully shocked, because the Nurse quickly says: “You can see him now, if you like.” He hardly feels the ground beneath his feet as he follows her deep into the bowels of the hospital.

“He’s been begging to see you, you know.” the Nurse says cordially, resting a manicured hand on the doorknob of room four-nine-eight. For whatever reason, she pauses before letting him in the room. It’s dark, save for the light coming in from the hallway, and that of the quickly setting sun outside. The only sound inside the room is the unceasing beep, beep, beep of the electrocardiograph monitor.

“You have a visitor.” The Nurse says quietly, turning on the lights.

Sarge watches in vague, distraught horror as Fillmore sat up and turned his sallow, sunken face to look at him. He certainly looked dead, with empty, glossed-over eyes and too-thin appendages. Yet, a wide, familiar grin split across Fillmore’s face as he spoke in a struggling voice: “Hey, man. It’s been a while.”

Sarge deflated in some strange form of relief as he drifted forward to catch Fillmore’s outstretched hand. It felt foreign in his own. Too frail, too cold.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” The Nurse says, exiting quickly.

Fillmore falls back on his pillows as the door clicks shut behind her. “Dunno why she wouldn’t let me see you.” He says, “You know, I’d like to see my lover before--”

“She’s just following rules.” Sarge replies, almost curtly.

“They’re stupid rules.” Fillmore huffs.

The revolutionary spirit Fillmore had gained during the tail end of the sixties never left him, even on his deathbed. Sarge chuckles weakly. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Why would I change?”

Sarge shrugs as he pulls a chair up next to the bed. He opts to change the subject instead of answering the question: “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it, too.” Fillmore replies. “They don’t let me smoke ‘round here, man….”

“That would probably just make it worse.”

“I’m dyin’ here, dude, they could at least let me have a smoke before I off myself.”

It seemed that Fillmore had grown comfortable with his inevitable demise. Ready to meet the unknown, or ready to find true peace. Whichever. Sarge grows quiet with this thought, now staring down at their clasped hands.

Fillmore clears his throat, somewhat startling him. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something, man.” He says. “Like my last wish, or something.”

“What’s that?”

“Lemme preface with the fact that I know you, Sarge.” Fillmore says, “You’re stubborn, you’re damned sentimental, and--”

“Fillmore.” Sarge interrupts. “Get to the point.”

“Move on.” His voice is clear, strong. “Live your life.”

“You can't ask me to--”

“It's all part of life, man. It's gonna happen eventually.”

And that was that. Sarge knows that it’s no use to argue with him; after all, he’s right. In time, he would move on whether he liked it or not. He sighs. “Yeah. Alright.”

Fillmore grins and opens his mouth to say something more, but is overtaken by a coughing fit. Sarge dropped his hand and shot to his feet, ready to find help if need be. “Fillmore, are you--”

“I’m fine.” Fillmore’s hands clutch his chest as he gasped. His voice had become raspy, hollow.“Sit back down, wouldja?”

Sarge did as he was asked. “Sorry, I thought--”

“Don’t apologize.” Fillmore interrupts. “It happens sometimes.”

It shouldn’t happen, Sarge thinks, This shouldn’t be happening to you.

The silence that now consumes the room is pregnant. There’s whispers of ideas of what Sarge could say, but he finds he wouldn’t be able to verbalize them even if he tried.

It’s several minutes until their silence is broken.

“How’re the folks back home?” Fillmore asks. “Any customers?”

“None.” Sarge replies. “And they’re doing fine. Flo and Ramone said they were gonna stop by tomorrow.”

“That’ll be nice.”

It’s difficult to decide whether small talk is a vice or a virtue. In the moment which it matters most, they’re unable to talk about anything meaningful. Yet, conversation is better than the bitter silence, filled only by the monitor on Fillmore’s heart.

Sarge finds Fillmore’s hand again. He squeezes it in some attempt to ease the anxiety he must be feeling. Outside, the sun had begun to set in a fantastic wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue. The hour had grown late.

“You should get some rest.” Sarge said.

“Yeah.” Fillmore returned, “Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m gonna stay with you.” He said, “In case I leave and they don’t let me back in tomorrow.”

Fillmore laughed. “See you in the morning, then.”

It’s so normal, natural, that it feels somewhat like a promise. Morning will come, and Fillmore will still be here, waking up with the rising sun. It isn’t long before the sunlight falls off of his face, and he is asleep.

Fillmore looks almost peaceful, if not for the wires and IVs pumping life into him. He didn’t belong here, in this sterile, white environment. He belonged at home, in Radiator Springs, playing that obnoxious music and arguing about the moon landing.

The Nurse ushers in once more, long after the sunset was replaced with a sky dotted with stars. “Visiting hours are over.” She said, lingering near the doorway for a moment too long.

“Can I stay with him?” Sarge asks. He turns his stinging-tired gaze onto her, Fillmore’s hand still clasped between both of his own.

There’s a terribly long pause, before she melancholically utters: “Of course.”

He returns his gaze to Fillmore, who hadn’t stirred. His head is turned towards the ceiling, and he snores quietly. He could tell that he was in pain; every so often his breathing would turn to quiet, strangled gurgling. It never lasted long, though. Fillmore was right. It happens sometimes.

“You’ve fought hard.” Sarge whispers, and Fillmore’s fingers tighten. “But you can’t give up. You need to keep--” his voice deteriorates with each word. “You need to keep going.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Fillmore’s face remains turned towards the ceiling. Sarge sighs and rests his head on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes, and the night consumes him.

It's not half a moment later, and Sarge is raising his head. He wonders if he’s imagining the flatline. It fades in and out of his hearing as Fillmore’s grip on his hand loosens. His fingers are thin, he notices. As are his wrists, and arms, and torso. He’s too thin. His eyes travel upwards to Fillmore’s (thin, sallow, lifeless) face. His mouth is slightly open, and his empty, glossed-over eyes stare, unseeing, at the ceiling. There’s color yet in his cheeks.

Sarge lets go of his hand, and it falls limply to the side of the bed. The walls are closing in on him, and the flatline only grows in volume as he reaches for the body in a haze. His hands grip the sheets, and then the thin hospital gown. He tries to speak-- some mixture of a question and a plea-- but the only sound that escapes him is a strangled moan.

He’s painfully aware of the Nurse prying him away from the body. She guides him into the hallway, leading him by the arm, as a doctor rushes in to pronounce the death.

“He’s not in pain anymore,” the Nurse hushed, “He’s in a better place.”

Sarge broke away from her and not-quite-ran for the exit, dashing into the lobby and then into the parking lot. Its early morning, almost the time that he play his Reiville, almost the time it would be met with that god-awful rendition of the national anthem--

He slams the door of his jeep and covers his head with his hands, his entire body shaking with silent wails.

. . . .

Fillmore is buried on a wonderfully, painfully sunny day in July. Sarge watches numbly as the plain, matte-black casket is lowered below the desert floor. He hated black, he thought as it’s slowly covered up with dirt. Only then did he share in the opinion; it was void of all life and feeling, not at all suitable for someone who had been as vibrant and intrinsic as the sunset over Willy’s Butte.

Yet, the sun had surrendered itself all too quickly, and Fillmore died young. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. He was only thirty-one. Far too young for someone like him, Sarge muses. He’d had a whole life ahead of him, brewing those horrible teas and playing that god-awful music--

“Are you gonna be alright?”

Sarge had lingered too long. He hadn’t noticed that the crowd had dispersed, leaving only him to watch the grave. Ramone is standing behind and to the left of him. His voice is concerned, condolatary.

Sarge turns his back to the gravesite. “I’ll be fine.” He said evenly, brushing the hand away and walking past him.

“You were close to him, man,” Ramone said, following closely behind him. “I’m just worried that you’re gonna--”

“I’m fine.” Sarge insisted.

And that was that. Ramone left him alone, and he continued towards his home in peace. It wasn’t the quiet, content peace that he’d grown accustomed to. No, now it’s empty, void. Silence is better than conversation.

Sarge doesn’t look at Fillmore’s dome (nor the “for sale” sign in front of it) as he passes. He looks straight ahead, chin up and shoulders squared. He lets himself inside his shop, and the door quietly clicks shut behind him. He continued towards the back of the shop and through another door, into his living area. It’s nothing special-- a small kitchen, a sitting area, and a bedroom behind a door off to the side. He stands in the center of it all, aimlessly staring into space.

He needs to clean out Fillmore’s dome. Clean out all of the junk that he’d accumulated over the years, determine what he’d keep and what he’d sell. Speaking of selling, he’d need to get rid of the bus, too, now that there was no one to drive it… Sarge decides promptly to stop thinking about it. He re-enters his shop, flicks on the lights, and stalks up and down the rows of military surplus. Backpacks, boots, butterfly knives. His medals--currently pinned to his lapel-- are usually in a display case front and center. He keeps them in prime condition, like everything else from his time in Vietnam--

He hears gunfire. The surplus shop is gone, replaced by a jungle under a cloudless night sky. He’s cowering behind a tree, holding his rifle to his chest. The NVA or Viet-Cong or whatever they were had gotten their hands on an anti-vehicle gun. Five, maybe ten men were dead just past the perimeter line. Phuoc Tuy, that’s right, he’s in Phuoc Tuy--

Just like that, it’s over. He’s back in Radiator Springs, swaying back and forth like he’s about to fall over. Sarge supposes a car had backfired, or something had fallen over in another room. It’s just stress, that’s all, he thinks. That’s all it took. Stress, and a loud noise.

He occupies himself and his mind by displacing and replacing items on the shelves. Vaguely, he realizes how silly he must look: he’s cleaning his shop in full dress uniform, shoes polished, medals pinned to his suit. He really should go change, but he doesn’t. He continues to tidy the shop, over and over again until he can’t bring himself to do it anymore.

He collapses on his couch, and falls asleep almost instantly. He dreams of gunfire and Fillmore’s sallow, sunken face.

The next day is just like any other: Sarge wakes in the early hours of the morning, head pressed uncomfortably into the arm of the couch, staring through the slats in the blinds as the new day rises. As he forces himself to get up, he notices the new creases in his suit. He’d have to iron it sooner or later.

Sarge’s routine is slow and grueling-- or, rather, it had become slow and greuling. He leaves his suit in a heap on the floor, showers with cold water, and dresses once again. A passing glance in the mirror tells him how god-awful he looks: his features are tired and gaunt, complete with heavy bags under his eyes and a thin frown etched into his face.

He looks somewhere between dying and dead; a little like Fillmore before he’d passed. Vaguely, he imagines himself in Fillmore’s place, frail and weak while nurses and doctors prodded at him with needles and tubes. Surely, he would put up a fight, yet it would be all for naught. Inevitably, he would die. The image fades back into that of Fillmore, coughing himself into a sleep from which he would never wake. He hadn’t gone peacefully, Sarge realizes. His eyes were open upon his death.

The thought had shocked him into a stupor. He stands, like a fool, staring at his own wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. He shakes his head, as if to rattle his realization away, and continues on with his day.

. . . .

It’s early October before Sarge had grown numb enough to finally clean out Fillmore’s dome. No one ever bought the lot-- it was practically useless, since traffic on the road had long since ceased-- but cleaning it out still seemed to be a worthwhile idea. Fillmore would have wanted his stuff to be given away, anyways.

The once-colorful interior of the dome was covered in a thick layer of dust. It had been months since anyone had inhabited it, making the haphazard placement of personal items seem like an exhibit out of a museum: the kitchen still has pots in the sink, the bedsheets are still disheveled, and the needle of a record player is still in the grooves of an LP. There’s no good place to start in all of the mess. After all, how is one supposed to go about sorting through someone’s life? There must be an established method, a routine he could follow….

He opts to start with the records. That’s easy, right? They’re neatly packed into crates beneath a wooden stand, on top of which sat a poorly-aged Achiphon. There’s an old ten-inch single under the needle, and Sarge somehow recognizes it, despite how long it had been since he’d seen it. How many times had Fillmore played it for him? Ten? Twenty?

Sarge replaces the needle at the start of the LP, and switches the record player on. It pops with the dust and grime it had gathered over the past few months, before finally crackling to life. There’s drums as a guitar settles down into a melody, and a great diminuendo is met with Jimi Hendrix’s vocals. “Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…” The music settles into every corner of the dome. Sarge had hated this song back in the day, but now it somehow relaxes him. Fillmore wouldn’t have let him hear the end of it, if he were still around. “My worries seem so very small, with my waterfall….”

He takes in the dome in one sweeping glance, now realizing that he doesn't fully want to disrupt it. It’s as though he’s erasing Fillmore’s last remaining presence off of the earth, truly killing him once and for all.

That’s entirely irrational, though. He flicks through the rest of the vinyls (Hendrix, The Kinks, Donovan, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane), and sets them to the side. He thinks he might sell them. Someone else could get better use out of them.

Sarge moves along, looking for something else to look through. He turns next to the boxes of clothes that are pushed underneath the bed. Most of his shirts are garishly tie-dyed, and most of his pants have holes in them. Surprisingly, Sarge even finds a few of his own items of clothing, evidently left here throughout the years. He moves the boxes next to the crates of vinyls, designating it as things he would get rid of.

He moves on to a bookshelf at the foot of the bed. It’s packed with old, torn-up volumes. There’s old college textbooks, fantasy, science fiction, and…. The dome is suddenly quiet as Sarge pulls an unmarked book from the shelf. He’d been working so quickly, so efficiently, that he hadn’t realized the song had ended. He opens the book, only to find that it wasn’t a book, but a photo album. Sarge flicks through it absentmindedly. Photos of people, places he didn't recognize. Perhaps they were some old college buddies, or some fellow hippies he'd run into in his travels--

Sarge stops, mid-page turn. There’s a polaroid stuffed between the pages like a bookmark. With one steady hand, he removes it from the book and stares at it. He doesn’t remember letting Fillmore take a photo of them together, yet in his hand he held evidence that proved otherwise. The photo is at such an awkward angle that it was obvious Fillmore himself was the one holding the camera. Half of his face was visible: half of a crooked grin, half of a newly-grown beard, half of a nose, one eye. Sarge wasn’t looking at the camera when the photo was taken, instead looking out over some unseen distance. His head rested on the edge of Fillmore’s shoulder, like their closeness was the most natural thing in the world. On the white border of the photograph, scrawled in round, looping handwriting, was a date: August, 1967.

That had only been a few months after they’d met. He remembers that they-- the hippies and the press and whatnot-- had called it “The Summer of Love,” and he never really understood why. Such a strange name, when there was a war in Vietnam and protests in the streets… Sarge’s nostalgia was fleeting, and quickly left him feeling empty. In a fit of sentimental longing, he finds himself wishing to live it all again. To find himself in Radiator Springs again, to meet Fillmore again, to fall violently, fitfully in love again. They had wasted their time together, ignorant of the fact that it would be cut short.

Sarge realizes that he had been staring off into space. He stands, dusts himself off, and pockets the photograph. He sets the photo album aside, and stacks the rest of the books next to the pile of items to be sold. He puts the needle at the start of the LP again, and loses himself as he continues to work.

Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…

. . . .

Sarge finally decides to visit the grave in November. It’s colder than it had been all week, and the temperature was dropping by the hour; he’d grown so used to the heat that anything lower than sixty degrees felt like winter. With his hands balled in his pockets, he sets off into the desert. He reaches the gravestone as the sun is beginning to set. He stares at it for a moment, coming to grips that he was standing above the body of his closest confidante.

Sarge isn’t sure why, but he begins to speak. “Hello, Fillmore. It’s been a while.”

Half of him expects a reply-- a “hey, man,” or something like that-- but the only sound is the wind, and the distant echo of interstate traffic.

“It’s quieter, without you.” He continues, “No one around to argue with.”

Dead, incomplete silence.

“I miss you.” Sarge blurts out, “I really do. And the time we had together was….” He trailed off, not exactly sure how to say it. “Well, it was just great.”

If Fillmore was listening, he would be grinning from ear to ear. Sarge knows that much.

He kneels down, and scrapes the dirt from the lettering. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. Only thirty-one years old. A life as vibrant and intrinsic and fleeting as the sunset over Willy’s Butte. Sarge stands again, and wipes the dirt from his pants. He watches the grave for a moment, now aware of a tremendous weight that had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Goodbye, Fillmore.”

As he leaves, the sky is a wonderful wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue.

#here's the deathfic rewrite. i'll post it to ffn and ao3 eventually #cars fandom #sargemore #fillmore #sarge #writing tag

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yazminnoemi-blog · 5 years

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My Semi-Charmed Mental Breakdown

Preface

Mental illness refers to a wide range of mental health conditions — disorders that affect your mood, thinking and behavior. Facing off with these disorders is a challenge especially when you don’t know what you’re doing. I use to think I had to defeat my mental illness on my own in one day. Throughout my life I have realized it’s an ongoing battle. You don’t just get to wake up one day and be like yay I’m happy and never going to feel that way again. Writing about these experiences has opened up my eyes to the fact that it’s a lifelong fight to deal with your mental illness. Sometimes you can’t defeat it, you just have to learn to live with it.

Thanks for joining the breakdown

They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. Over and over in my head I repeat those three words. If I say it in my head maybe I can wish it out into the universe. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. I said these last couple out loud because maybe that would strengthen the meaning behind it. Maybe it would make it more believable for me. Unfortunately there is still that nagging voice in the back of my head. They do not care. They do not miss you. You are forgotten. You are nothing! It screams over everything in my head telling me not to listen to the voice. All of the good memories, all of the phone calls, the texts, all of the kind words falling onto now deaf ears since all I can hear are the words being shouted at me from inside my head. You do not matter. You never mattered. You will never matter. It adds a dark film over all of the memories I use to look at with such happiness and shows me every mistake I made up until this point in my existence. It taunts me every day of my life. It has popped up in different forms throughout my entire life but it does have one quite general name: mental illness.

Depression; it is the first and most consistent form of mental illness that has impacted my life. It did not start with me. I watched my mom struggle with depression for years before I even knew what it was. When I was around the age of 4 or 5 I remember thinking my mom was a Disney princess because of how well put together and happy she seemed. She always had her make-up done perfectly, and when she was with my dad, they lit up the room.

. When I was about 9 everything changed. She stopped putting on her make up every day and caring how she looked. I could hear her arguing with my dad when she thought my sister and I had fallen asleep. The most vivid memory that sticks out in my mind though was from when I was 11 years old. I came home to find my mom in bed. It was odd because it was 4pm and my mom did not get home until usually 7 or 8pm. When I walked into the bedroom to make sure she was okay my stomach dropped. Her eyes seemed so far off, kind of glassy and dead, and she had tears streaking down her face. The sight of her scared me but I figured maybe today was just a bad day. She had a couple of bad days here and there throughout the years so maybe today was just a really bad one. It turned out I was wrong because that bad day had turned into two bad weeks. She stayed in bed for two weeks, calling off work, barely wanting to leave her room. I could hear her in the room crying with the door closed but when I would knock and see if she needed anything she would yell out “I’m fine!” and “Mami will be all right sweetie”. Her hiding away in her room, denying her emotions, ignoring the breakdown is something I know she was taught. Always put on a brave face. Don’t let anyone see you break down; they will perceive you as weak. It is a lesson that my mother unknowingly passed down to my sister and me.

I noticed around 13 that I did not feel as much like myself as usual. The things I loved became boring and tedious. Learning new things in school became such an unsatisfying task that I had to be bribed into learning the coursework so I could pass. I was just barely getting by and I did not understand why everything changed. That is also around the time the voice started. Where no matter what I did right it found something wrong. Where a good time happened it would point out the bad. I started to put myself down and find the bad in any situation so I could have a reason for being so sad, so unlike myself. I waited for someone else to notice that something was wrong, because obviously if no one else sees anything wrong maybe I am just being melodramatic. How could I feel so out of place without anyone noticing a difference in me? Well I got my wish of someone noticing the minute I came home and told my parents that I never wanted to sing again. Singing was a passion of mine and I had done everything in my power to improve my voice up until that point. I had been in choirs, sang almost every song in the car, and even took voice lessons. The day I came home and told them I wanted to quit singing was the day I broke my parents’ heart and made them see just how different I had become. I broke down crying in the middle of the doorway, telling them there was no purpose to singing. “I’m not even good enough to do anything with it,” I exclaimed. “Why waste the time and money on me?” I told them there was nothing special with the way I sang and then I just shut down. I sat on the ground, wrapped my arms around my legs, and just sat there waiting for them to say something. Nothing they said would make me feel better but I knew they were trying. I heard there words like they were far off in the distance. “You are an amazing singer”, and “You are so talented”, and “Everything is going to be fine”, were all sentences that I can remember but I did not believe a single one of them.

Spiraling through the depressive states left me a little worse for wear but when the anxiety and panic attacks started it made everything ten times worse. I was in sixth grade when I had my first panic attack. I did not even realize it was a panic attack until years later when I thought about what had happened. I remember the day was a haze where all I could think about was getting home so I could curl up under my blanket and hide from the world. I ended up leaving school two hours early due to the fact that I was in the nurse’s office unable to breathe. My dad worked at the elementary school down the block so he picked me up and took me home. I could tell he was extremely worried by all the glances he kept casting my way on our walk to the house. When the door opened I immediately felt better. I walked to my room, changed into my favorite pajamas, and went to the living room to spend time with my dad. Being near him has always made me feel better and I hoped today would be no different. Before I made to the living room I heard him on the phone with my mom. I hid in the dining room trying to listen to what was happening.

“She told the nurse she was having a hard time breathing Raquel.” There was a pause which must have meant my mother was talking now. It was a long pause and when I took a peek around the corner my dad’s head was in his hands.

“No she’s fine now. We are going to hang out until you come home then we can talk more about it.” Another long pause and then a sigh. “I understand that but we can’t force her to talk to us. I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital but she does need to talk to someone. Honey we can talk more when you are home. Maybe I can try and figure out a bit more while we watch tv. I love you.” My dad set his phone down and I finally decided to come out from my hiding spot. I sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall down my face. I sit down next to him on the couch, wrap myself in the blanket, and lean my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and starts to rub my back.

“Sweetie, are you really okay? This doesn’t seem like a breathing issue since you are breathing okay right now. Did you want to talk about something?” When I looked into my dad’s eyes I broke down. I held onto him and started to sob.

“I just haven’t felt good all day. I had to present to the class and I messed up. Then I almost started crying in front of everyone. After that my chest started to feel tight and like I wasn’t getting any air. I almost passed out in class so then I went to the nurse. I was so scared you were going to say I couldn’t come home because I know the rule is if you aren’t bleeding or dying you need to stay but I really felt like I couldn’t make it.” I rushed through the story like my life depended on it. I felt like I was being so melodramatic but it was the only way to get away from school. I needed to leave that place so badly. It was so hard to have to face all of the people I thought were friends. I thought they were my friends and I am sure they made fun of me; I am sure none of them cared I left. Why would they care? I am just a place holder friend. As these thoughts spiraled through my head I started to get that tight feeling in my chest.

All I wanted was to be left alone and some peace and quiet. I thought pushing everyone away would give me time to work on me and make me better. I tried therapy, meditation, medication, and everything in between. Nothing made that empty feeling inside me go away. Sometimes I was able to distract myself from it. When I was younger I would use basketball as my get away, then I started high school and theatre was my new big distraction. I was still feeling that nagging, empty feeling but I focused all of my energy on the distractions instead of what was wrong. Senior year of high school it spiraled out of control.

I was walking home from school late one night after theatre had ended and decided I would take the long way home. I only lived about two miles away and it was nice to have some time alone. I was fine for about 5 minutes before the weird thoughts started. I would glance out into the road and the first thought that popped up would say “Just take one step out and it’ll be over,” or “How fast do you think a car would have to be going to just hurt you?” After about 3 more instances of comments like that I decided to put on my headphones and blast my music. I hoped it would distract me from the horrible thoughts I was having.

“No one would visit you if you got hurt. Who would care about a girl like you? All you do is whine and complain and nothing bad has ever even happened to you. You are a spoiled brat.” The music wasn’t drowning out the thoughts it was just giving them a backbeat, making it easier to remember them. After 15 more minutes I was hyperventilating and needed to sit down to count. One tactic I had learned to shut up the voices in my head was to count up to 4, tapping each finger on my thumb. On a good day I just had to tap but I days like the one I was experiencing I was practically shouting the numbers while digging my nails into my thumb.

Why isn’t it working? Why can’t I make the voices stop?!

“It’s because you deserve every bad thing that has ever happened to you. You deserve to be tortured like this, to know that everyone hates you even though you try your hardest to fit in. You would never fit in because no one could ever accept a piece of trash person like you.” The voice kept getting louder and louder, more horrible things being hurled at me as tears fell down my face. “You are pathetic. You are a waste of space that doesn’t deserve to take up other peoples’ time. Obviously no one cares about you. You are sarcastic, loud, and force yourself into other peoples’ lives when they don’t need or want you. Why do you think everyone keeps leaving? Why do you think-?” The voice finally shut up. I didn’t understand why until I felt the pressure on my forearm. I glanced down and saw that I had begun to dig my nails into my skin. I removed them only to see little drops of blood traveling down my forearm. I decided then that hurting myself was the only way to get the voices to stopped.

It worked for a bit, that was until my best friend noticed. I started to wear long sleeves and pants all the time since I had started to lose room on my arms to mark up, my legs were the next area to be attacked. It was a week before graduation when my best friend, Crystal pulled me aside and mentioned the change in my wardrobe.

“Yazmin, you hate pants. I don’t think I have seen you wear a pair unless it’s below 30 degrees. Now you’re wearing long sleeves AND pants. What is going on?” She looked at me with concern in her eyes. I couldn’t tell her what I was doing but I also couldn’t look her in the eyes and straight up lie to her. I was fidgeting with the sleeves when she lightly punched my arm.

“Hey dork. What is it? Is everything okay? You’ve been kind of distant lately and it’s scaring me. We can’t go off to college with you being all in your head all the time.” I took a breath and told her what I had realized.

“It makes the voices stop,” I muttered under my breath, rolling up my sleeve, “and sometimes they don’t start at all because I can sense when it’s about to start so I do this first.” I started to show her how I would dig my nails into my skin when she grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Yazmin, you do that one more time and I am going to beat your ass.” I looked up to see a glaring Crystal and pulled my arm back.

“I just wanted to stop being told I was a piece of trash. I feel so worthless sometimes and the voices hurt more than the actual pain in my arm so I figured I’d choose one evil over the other.” I shrugged my shoulders, sat down on the ground, and stared at my feet. She sat down next to me and hugged me super tight and didn’t let go until I pushed her off.

“We all love you stupid. That voice in your head is not something you should listen to. Listen to me. I am your best friend and I will always be here for you. I will make sure that I tell you as much as I can how much I appreciate you. You are one of the best things to happen to me Yazmin and I can’t imagine my world without you in it.”

It dawned on me then all of the things that people had been trying to tell me throughout the years. Things including how important I was, how special I was, how worthwhile I was, and most importantly how much I was loved. My depression and anxiety have not gone away and that little voice in my head is still saying those horrendous things to me but I have learned to live with them and hopefully someday soon I will learn how to defeat them for good

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 6 years

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Dana Don’t Lie_Part 5

This takes place after The Oasis. As usual you can see all the parts listed for this series, along with other fanfics in my Black Panther Masterlist.

At the time of watching this I was rewatching alot of old Madea plays/movies and got a lot jokes/ideas/inspiration from those.

Disclaimer: Nothing really, Erik will be Erik so use of the N-word.

Part 5

It was close to midnight and everyone had gathered in the lobby as per Shuri’s orders. When you and Erik exited from behind the tarp, Aquaneesha looked up and began moving forward. T’Challa gave a smile at the two of you. He figured your talk must have gone right. He was happy to see that.

T’Challa stepped in her way. “Let’s not get excited, Miss. Aquaneesha.”

“What are you doing? Move. Let me see my man!” she literally pushing T’Challa out of the way.

“Did she just put her hands on you?” Shuri asked, “I knew I should have had you to call some Dora Milaje down.”

T’Challa stood aside, “It is fine.”

Shuri mumbled.

“Don’t come over here!” Erik snapped loudly with a growl. Aquaneesha stopped with a blink.

“If you do, I won’t be responsible for what I do.” Erik threatened his arm around your waist as the two of your walked up to the counter.

Aquaneesha bounced the baby on her hips once before handing her child over to Nakia who seemed to have become the babysitter this evening. T’Challa got momentarily distracted in seeing Nakia with a child in her arms. He had to shake himself to pay attention.

“Who is she?” Aquaneesha screeched jabbing a finger at you.

“Didn’t hear it earlier eh? You must be deaf.” Erik muttered darkly.

You reached up and laid a hand on his chest, “You don’t have to argue, Erik. Leastwasys not on my account.”

“You the she-witch that turned my man against me, aren’t you!” the taller woman cried.

“Well, she has him under a spell alright but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Shuri snapped from behind the counter.

Shuri could not wait to get rid of this woman. She had been working her nerves since she came. Even when she had to take her son’s blood, she was over dramatic about it. Griping non-stop about how useless this was and how useless niggas were in general and other things that Shuri didn’t care to know. In a rare show of emotion, Shuri was feeling a sense of murderous rage.

Wait was this how Erik felt for so long?

Geeze, how did he deal with it?

T’Challa sighed. He didn’t know the last time he remembered his sister being so ill-tempered like this.

“Ahh-HA!!!” Aquaneesha cried pointing at you.

“Ahh-HA, what fool?” Shuri asked.

Her brother was now looking a her like she grew two heads. How was one woman getting under his sister’s skin that much? And besides that perhaps she was spending a little bit too much time in this city? Or with Erik? Hmm….

Aquaneesha ignored Shuri, keeping her steady eyes on you and well continuing to point her finger, “What kind of voodoo are you doing?”

“You wouldn’t know if I told you”, you respond coolly. You heard Shuri and Nakia snicker. Erik grinned at this comment and T’Challa looked torn between amusement and concern.

Suddenly Aquaneesha was hurling insults calling you and your mama out ya’ll names.

The room froze and Erik growled, tampering down the urge to return to sender. Instead, he looked down at you wondering what you would so or say.

You however only looked at Aquaneesha. The small sign of your annoyance as that your right eyebrow twitched.

You turned then and at Shuri, “This decade please.” you said gesturing to the piece of paper.

Shuri gave a curt nod, raising the the paper in her hand. “I ran the results twice just to be sure.” she preface. “In the case of Erik Stevens verse Aquaneesha Jones…….” she announced dramatically

“Shuri….” you warned, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Sorry…...” she mumbled under her breath before clearing her throat and saying, “Erik Stevens, you are….”

“See I told you! You are the father! I knowed it! I knowed it !” Aquaneesha screamed at Erik, “See you gonna be a daddy to this baby! What you gotta to say now?”

Everyone was staring at her as if she done lost it.

“I didn’t even announce the results yet.” Shuri cried waving the paper around.

“Don’t have to! I knowed it!” Aquaneesha paced back and forth her eyes on Erik.

Shuri eye was fast twitching but a wave of your hand made her look at you.

“What are the results, genius mine?” you asked.

That made Shuri gave a small grin at your comment dispelling the frown that was marring her features.

“Erik Stevens, is not the father!” Shuri announced before slamming the paper down on the counter.

Aquaneesha looked stunned at the news.

Shuri added, “Now, have a good day. Goodbye!”

You picked up the paper and looked at the test though you didn't know what you were looking at. Shuri noticed and began trying to explain it to you. If this was up here that would mean it’s a match but it’s down here so it wasn’t . You nodded absently and stare at the the test. Meanwhile chaos was swirling around you.

Erik clapped. “See, I told you! Now go find the real baby daddy!”

“That's impossible you must have set this up.” Aquaneesha screeched finally snapping out of it “I knew I shouldn't have let you take the test.”

“Then take it and go get a retake.” Shuri pulled out a paper bag and put it on the counter.

“What’s in there?” Nakia asked, rocking the 3-year old who had fallen asleep.

“A vial of Erik’s blood….” Shuri snorted before snarling at the taller, “Run all the test you like!”

“You could have switched out the blood. How do I know it’s Erik’s blood?” the tall woman growled.

“I take my craft seriously. I don't’ know about you.”

“She did take her seriously, which why she is currently in her predicament!” Erik hooted.

“Erik…..” T’Challa warned, “.....That’s isn’t nice.”

“Don’t remember trying to be.” He looked steely at the tall woman, “But you best take that and git, cause I ain’t gonna be dragged across town every which a way for a blood test. You betta be happy I’m letting you take this.”

“Or if you like, we can send everything to the local hospital and they can run it.” T’Challa offered.

“Cousin…..” Erik growled swinging to T’Challa who held up his hand and said, “To help speed things along and make sure everything goes smoothly. We already know the results.”

“Uh-uh, I want her!” Aquaneesha pointed at you who was still looking at the test.

Shuri threw up her hands, “What are you on now?”

“She is a witch doctor and she has turned him….” she pointed to Erik, “....against me.”

Seconds went by…..

You finally let out a dramatic sigh, “I’m bored….”

Everyone stopped and looked at you. Erik slowly raised an eyebrow.

You looked up from the test paper, laying down the counter. “And it’s late and I’m tired…..”

You swung your gaze to Aquaneesha, “You plan to be here all night?”

“I sure am! Until we get to the bottom of this…!#@%@” she answered.

Everyone held their breath as she cussed you out.

Finally you spoke:

“You know, I could cuss you out if I wanted I just don’t see much point. I find it doesn’t convey the subtle nuances of ones thoughts. For instance, your courage, if we could call it that, to come here knowing that he wasn’t the father leaves much to be desired only to be outmatch by your foolishness. Even in the face of the results, that fact that you would continue this charade is testamant to your desperation and or stupidity, I’m not sure which.”

T’Challa looked away trying not to smile. Nakia was staring at you amazed while Shuri started giggling. Erik was was beaming like a fool with pride.

And Aquaneesha had her eyes squinted. It took her a long moment to figure out what you were saying and form a response.

“Are you calling me stupid?” she finally asked narrowing her eyes.

“In addition, you must have gotten the address incorrect….” you trailed off.

“What address?”

“This isn’t the studio of Maury or Jerry Springer. I don't’ know where they film but it is not here.”

“How dare you? Erik!!”

Said male turned his back and leaned on the counter with both arms as if he was checking something over it. Shuri was giggling like mad now.

“But more importantly…” You continued, “....I want to know how you going to pay for my emotional distress. I was doing just fine this evening and then you have to bring your Jerry Springer/ Maury drama up in here. This is not the place to do it. With the results, I suggest you track on up out of here before you embarrass yourself further.”

“I will not leave until Erik apologize to me!” Aquaneesha screamed.

“Apologize for what? Not sleeping with you?” you asked.

Erik was over there fist pumping.

“How dare you? You want a piece of me! Come on then!” She took of her earrings and kicked off her shoes.

“You can’t be serious, right now. This is not how a mother should act.” Nakia busted out.

“Can it, sista!” Aquaneesha snapped before looking at you.

You gave a long suffering sigh and looked up at the ceiling, “Clearly there are times when being a lady does not pay.”

It was a shock to everyone when you marched straight up to Aquaneesha and grabbed her by the arm making her squeak, “What are you doing?”

“I tried being nice. I tried hoping you’d get the hint, but clearly you do not. But perhaps this once I will lower myself a smidge and speak a language you can understand. Erik is mine. The man don’t want you. He said as much.”

“He is mine!” she hissed jerking away from you.

“No.....Ho he mine.” you hissed.

Erik was full out grinning watching this. “Shouldn’t we intervine?” T’Challa whispered to him concern this could get out of hand.

“Don’t interrupt a cat fight, cuz. You should know this.” he whispered back.

Shuri leaned between them, “Don’t get in the middle of that, you might get swiped. Even you as the Black Panther would not survive.”

T’Challa gave his sister a look.

You narrowed your eyes looking up at the taller woman, “Don’t let the smooth taste fool ya. I don’t like to fight unless absolutely necessary. You are making it necessary.”

The taller woman gazed down at you. She must have seen something in your eyes because she huffed and snatched up her shoes. Marching over to Nakia, she snatched her son out of her arm before marching out the door without an thank you or goodbye.

“Y/N, you owned that fool!” Shuri cheered after silence stretched a bit.

T’Challa looked at his sister, “I think you need to come back to Wakanda for awhile. Your becoming more like Erik the longer I leave you here.”

Shuri waved him away still grinning.

You turned around slowly and began to fidget looking sheepish before shrugging, “Too much?”

“Heck no, I got a woman willing to go to bat for me?” Erik questioned walking over to you and pulling you to him, “No not too much.”

“Wow, Y/N….I admit I was worried there.” Nakia standing up from her seat.

“I wasn’t, my girl was gonna be okay! I think I should give you a couple of lessons and how to swing properly.”

“N’Jadaka, I’m not trying to be a fighter, you know. Actually, I’m not a fighter.”

“Well you never know. Just in case you gotta throw down.”

You took a step away from Erik as you said, “What this plan to be habit?”

Erik shook his head. “We ain’t talking about hat. There could be other situations. I want to make sure my woman know how to take care of herself.”

“Hmmm….” you mumbled.

Shuri asked all of a sudden concerned, “If she had swung what would you have done?”

“Duck…”

There was ripple of chuckles at your dry response.

“However I knew she didn't want to fight.”

“How? That’s impossible...” Nakia asked, “Even I didn’t realize what she was going to do. A moment I though she was gonna swing.”

“That $100 nail-do and $200 weave with that $75 mini-dress almost showing all her business and them $100 shoes? Girlllll, she wasn’t ready to throw down. She was ready to show up. So I showed her up. Game set match.” You mimic dunking.

Erik couldn’t help but pull you in with raucous laughter.

“You must be part diplomat….” T’Challa said amazement in his voice.

Shuri leaned over and dramatically fanned at Erik and faked whispered, “This this is the only thing you’ve done right. Don’t mess this up!”

“Get offa me!” Erik groused.

Shuri fanned at once again making him glare at her, “So when can I expect a cousin in law?”

“Shut up.” he hissed at her before looking at you beaming.

“Anyway, it’s late and I am tired. I gotta bounce.” you finally said after a moment.

Shuri pulled out your backpack which Erik walked back to get for you before walking back over to your and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” you turned to the door only to turn back to the group, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I leave you with this thought.”

“Which is?” T’Challa asked amused.

“Dana don’t lie…..” you said before promptly turning and walking to the door..

“Dana?” Nakia asked confused. T’Challa cocked his head and the two exchanged looked. Shuri was trying to think about it but was coming up short.

Erik followed you out but stopped at the door and turned around with a grin, “The DNA….Dana…..”

The two of you were gone leaving the Wakandans.

“That makes no sense!” T’Challa finally groused.

A/N: I’ve never written a character like Aquaneesha but the end, even she wore me out. I’m tired ya’ll. My own side-character (one time use, I assure you) annoyed even me. Though it did make for good drama if you ask me. Thanks for reading this story in the series!

#black panther #black panther fanfiction #killmonger x reader #black panther killmonger

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frejahertziswritingthistime · 6 years

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Signed, sealed, delivered

A/N: I know I’m late on requests, but this damn idea has been floating around in my head for AGES, so I had to get it out of my system. I promise, new requests are coming! Unfortunately, my computer has lived a long and hard life, and is currently unable to work without an ethernet-cable attached, so it might be a little slower, than normal. Sorry!

As a preface, I know that unless you’re trained to do it, you won’t be able to actually sense vibrations around you, when you’re deaf – for the sake of this fic, the reader can sense it somewhat. I’m partially deaf myself, and I’ve been looking for a deaf-reader for a while – I really hope you’ll like it!

As always, remember I always say yes to requests, and feedback feeds the writer (it means the world to me, and it really butters my eggroll)

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Sam x Deaf!reader (established relationship)

Warnings: Language, a lot of fluff

I stared at the mirror and my own reflection; my hair was done, a light coat of makeup on, and a yellow summer dress rested nicely and flowingly on my body, coming to an end by my knees. I was shaking a little. This was going to be a nervous, weird birthday for me.

I was nervous. Meeting Sam’s surrogate father was nerve-wracking, even though Sam had assured me, that Bobby would love me – besides, I wasn’t the only one to come over. Dean, Castiel and Jo was there too, so I wouldn’t feel alone. It didn’t help me, at all. I was going to be alone – the only one, who knew sign language, was Sam; Dean had tried to learn, but it was shaky at best, and he often forgot to sign, when he was talking to me. Jo (who I had only met a few times), couldn’t get the hang of it, and Castiel constantly signed in Enochian – at least, he knew how to sign, but not in a language I knew.

I could feel eyes on me, and I turned around. Sam stood in my doorway with a huge smile on his face. I couldn’t help but smile back – Sam was a huge man, taking up pretty much the entire doorframe to my room, but he was such a puppy; he was like sunshine in a person. His smile felt like a ray of sunshine on my skin, and when he looked at me, my breath got taken away from me; he left me breathless most days. Even now, a year into our relationship, he could still make me feel like we just met.

“How are you feeling, birthday girl?” He signed and pushed himself off the doorframe, walking towards me with a smile. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I signed back. His big hands wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me in for a bone crushing hug. He kissed the top of my head. I could feel the vibrations in his chest, as he hummed something – I hated, that I didn’t know what his voice sounded like. I wish I could hear it. Castiel had at one point asked (through Sam), if he should try and fix my hearing, but I had declined – I might not always like being deaf, but it was me. My stupid, non-working ears was what made me… Well, me. Sam pulled back and looked me in the eyes with a small smile playing on his lips.

“You look amazing.” He signed. I blushed. “Thank you.” He took my hand, and we walked out of my apartment, hand in hand, to the car, he had parked out front of the complex. He opened the door, and I got in, my knees shaking a little. As he started the car, the engine’s vibrations making me a little calmer, he turned to me. “You’ll be fine. Bobby is going to love you.” I shrugged. “Ellen is there, so don’t worry. He won’t do anything, to step out of line.” I grinned. Ellen had been like a surrogate mother to me, every time I saw her – she might not be able to sign, but she made a big deal out of mouthing every single word, so I could read her lips. She was amazing. I nodded and smiled at Sam. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to Bobby’s house – my heart was hammering in my chest, as Sam stilled the engine and turned to me. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” He leaned over and kissed me softly. I sighed into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He chuckled against my lips, the vibrations setting my skin on fire, and pulled reluctantly away. “Alright, Dean is going to greet you in there. I promised, I’d fix something for Bobby, as soon as I got here.” He signed fast and looked apologetically at me. I smiled. “Okay. See you in there.” He kissed me quickly again and left the car. I sat still for a few minutes, trying to collect myself and relax my breathing. It would be fine. Sam, Dean, Cas and Jo were there. Ellen was there. It would be fine.

I got out of the car on shaking feet, and looked towards the front door, my breathing a little ragged. I walked slowly to the door, and as I neared it, the door opened. Dean was smiling broadly at me, and opened the door fully – he motioned for me to come in. I almost ran inside, and he engulfed me in a big hug. I sighed and pulled back a little. Dean smiled mischievously at me.

“Y/N. You’re the perfect girl for my brother. You are sweet, understanding, helpful and you make him so, so happy. I have never seen him smile as big, as when he smiles at you. He loves you, with everything he has and everything he is. I could not imagine someone else for him. Y/N Y/L/N, you are a godsend. Thank you for you.” I smiled with tears in my eyes. He had signed everything he just said, with no problem, no hesitation and he was smiling, like it was the easiest thing in the world. I didn’t understand, what was happening, but I was happy all the same; I hugged Dean tightly and signed a thank you back. He pointed towards the hallway, where I could spot a length of blonde hair, and he nodded. I hesitantly walked towards the hair, which I realized was connected to Jo’s head. She turned to me with a huge smile.

“We, as an extended, chosen family, couldn’t love anyone more as you for Sam. You are perfect. You fit right into this family, just as you are. You are a wonderful, fantastic, sweet and loving woman, and I don’t doubt for a second, that Sam scored way over. Thank you for your love, both for us, as a chosen family, and for your love to Sam.” She signed everything with tears in her eyes. I was full on crying now, my heart bursting with happiness and surprise, because these two had taught themselves sign-language. Jo pointed towards the back-door, where I could see Castiel standing, and she nodded towards him, urging me to go to him. I signed another thank you and walked to Castiel with blurry eyes. Castiel didn’t waste any time, before he started to sign.

“Sam Winchester will never find a human being better than you. This is the most, he could ever have or want in life. You make him better, as he does you. You are a beautiful flower, swaying gently in the wind, and Sam is the grass next to you, who stares longingly after you.” He smiled softly after finishing, and I hugged him tightly. I didn’t understand why they were saying all this, but it made me so damn happy. He hugged me back lightly and then gestured to the back-garden, where I could see Bobby (I assumed) and Ellen. I walked slowly towards them, and as soon as I was in arms reach of Bobby, he grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. It was as if I was being hugged by my father, and it made tears well up in my eyes. He lightly clapped my shoulder and pulled away, standing next to Ellen – both with smiles on their faces.

“Even without knowing you, I was sure you were a part of the family. You are family, because Sam loves you more than he loves books. I’m not good with words, but I will say this: you deserve each other, for as long as you both are living. Probably after that, as well. I am so glad, I finally got to meet you, despite feeling like I’ve known you for the entire time, Sam has known you. Welcome to the family, kid.” Bobby signed it all with a huge smile. I sobbed a little, because this was so unexpected; it felt amazing to already be accepted into the family. Ellen smiled broadly at me, and quickly signed as well. “You’re part of this family, Y/N. I hope you’ll accept it, because there ain’t no way out now.” I smiled and nodded, before hugging them both and smiling to them. They gestured towards the back of the garden, where Sam stood, surrounded by Dean, Jo and Castiel; Ellen and Bobby followed me as I went to Sam, who was smiling nervously.

“What’s all this? You did this?” I signed quickly and with a huge smile. He was standing in front of me, flowers adorning the trees and vines behind him, and he was in a beautiful, white suit. He nodded. “Yes.” I smiled and stood in front of him, my heart racing, despite not knowing what was about to happen. Sam heaved a deep breath, stretching the fabric across his chest.

“Y/N. My family has already told you, what I’m sure you already know. You’re too good for me. Not that I would ever leave you, because I’m selfish like that.” I grinned a little at that. “I love you, with everything I am, and everything I have. I love you with every part of my heart. I know, you already know you’re a part of this family, but…” He smiled a little. “I just wanted to know, if you wanted to officially be a part of it, as my wife?” I gasped, and my hands flew to my mouth. “I know, we’ve only been together for a year, but… I can’t stand the thought of you not being my wife any more. I want to share my life with you, as you share mine. So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

He pulled a ring from his pocket and I saw a glistening of a tear on his cheek; it was a beautiful ring. Rose-gold band, with a tear-shaped diamond in the middle. It was simple and the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He looked me in the eyes, as he waited for me to answer.

I smiled broadly at Sam, who’s hands were shaking. “Of course, I’ll marry you!” I signed.

I felt the vibrations of the whooping happening around me, but I didn’t care; Sam was kissing me deeply, our tears of joy mingling. This was truly the most memorable birthday in the world.

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen, @al1y, @roonyxx, @sherlockstolemyname, @heyitscam99, @andkatiethings, @tayyfvck, @starletzombie, @jensenyourdeanisshowing, @linki-locks11 , @pisces-cutie,

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chaseagainstonision · 6 years

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Taylor talk

I'm gunna touch upon the subject of Taylor's gender issues/gender identity and what have you. Just because it seems like it's a hot topic and I feel like people just don't really understand the difference between Taylor's gender identity and everyone else under the trans umbrella's gender identity. I know that some of this I've also talked about in my post about Taylor in my gender tag, but I'm trying to consolidate it, more or less. And yes, we can focus on more than one thing at a time when it comes to the Averoes. They have done shitty things, but using gender (and sexuality) as an accessory is still gross. Let me preface this with the fact that I am not here to gatekeep, as much as some of you think that this is gatekeeping. This is about one (1!) single person out of a sea of billions of people (with at least millions of trans people). This is also not me trying to invalidate any one at all. Being bi/pan and genderfluid with some dysphoria, that it the last thing that I would ever want to do. I will also update this/repost this as needed, possibly with sources in the future. If anyone wants to help with sources, that'd be great, but I will have to set aside some time here and there to get some sources soon. Currently, I won't be able to list any sources since this is kind of a spur of the moment thing that I wanted to get out there. And, at this point, there are some things that I haven't touched on since I haven't watched some of their content, either at all or in full, like their recent binding video (didn't see the whole thing) or their prom (just saw caps of it). So there are things that I want to talk about that aren't covered yet. First, I wanna talk about gender nonconforming in relation to Taylor. I know plenty of cis women who are what amounts to tomboys. They wear men's clothes and have short hair and all that jazz, but still ID as cis. And there's no shame in that and they have their reasons for that, be it because they like baggier clothes or that mens pants are easier to shop for or whatever. If Taylor wanted to be gender nonconforming and wear men's clothes out of comfort or style, I wouldn't really question it. I would just figure that they're be going for the tomboy style and leave it at that. If they wanted to just be a tomboy, that would be fine and no one would be questioning and making a stink about their gender identity like they're doing now. But, Taylor is going out of their way to make their gender one of the, like, five things they talk about. As far as gender expression goes, I don't give two shits about men wearing makeup or women not wearing makeup or people in general wearing/not wearing makeup. It's typically seen as a feminine thing to do, but if you wanna wear makeup, go for it. No one is shaming Taylor for wearing makeup. Though people are giving them constructive criticism on how to apply their makeup, which falls on deaf ears since they can't be assed to learn how to get better, but I digress. How you present isn't indicitive of your gender. Though trans men tend to wear more masculine things and trans women tend to wear more feminine things, that's not always the case and that's fine. Taylor, though, goes all out to say that they're a prince and that they are a boy and wants to be a boy (not a man, but a boy, specifically, according to them in a livestream, iirc) because they don't want an adams apple (even though everyone has one? I think they mean a more pronounced one, which wouldn't happen) or a deeper voice or facial hair or all the stuff you'd normally get on T. They really just want their chest and hips to be smaller. Their chest is an easy fix: Get a breast reduction or get rid of them entirely. But, I don't think that I've ever heard them say that they want their breasts gone entirely, just that they wanted them smaller. And after giving birth twice, their breasts got bigger (due to milk production) and so did their hips(I guess it's uncommon, but it happens?). This is what leads me to believe that they don't have gender dysphoria, but body dysmorphia. They're just uncomfortable with their breasts being so big and their hips being so wide. Nothing really matching up with anyone I know with dysphoria or anything I've seen online from other trans folks. That, on top of the fact that they think you can pick and choose what you're dysphoric about, essentially, are things that make me doubt the legitimacy of Taylor's claims to agender-ness. Then, going back to when Taylor first got their hair cut short. They bitched about not liking it at all for a short while since it made them look too much like a boy. I believe that they had posted about their hair cut and bitch fit on Instagram. Their fans jumped and told them that they looked like a cute boy with short hair and Taylor took that shit and ran with it. That, coupled with the fact that Ruby Rose was gaining incredible popularity on Tumblr and had just been given a role on Orange is the New Black, Taylor saw an oppurtunity and jumped on it, since both of the Averoes like trend hopping. Taylor talked a lot about Ruby Rose around that time on Tumblr, too, if I recall. Taylor, after getting hounded by their fans, finally came out as nonbinary and, eventually, agender. Gerg obviously didn't help and thought that he could cash in on this by manipulating Taylor into getting new bait girls in their house so he might be able to line someone up to date after a potential divorse. Then, going back further, Taylor's nickname Lainey. The name that Gerg had bestowed upon them. Taken from their middle name Elaine. Taylor never went by this nickname prior to interacting with Gerg. He has a habit of naming his former partners, though. I feel him naming Taylor was one of the first controlling and manipulative things that he has done in their relationship together. Anyway, Taylor claimed to never like their name as it was "too boyish" or some such, even though it's a pretty gender neutral name. So Gerg gave them an incredibly feminine name. Something that they weren't bothered by, initially. More recently, they have tried to come up with more masculine names, but bitched because their "brand" is already established and that they don't want to ruin that by changing their name. If they really cared about their apparent gender, they wouldn't care about having to change their brand to fit a personal make over.

#taylor #laineybot #gender #onision #post #I'll prob'ly fix this more later #long post

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kpopandcream · 6 years

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Moon Day IX

Pairing: Dongmin x Reader & Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Humour.

Warnings: Strong language, Implied smut, some dark themes.

Jungkook told you about Min Yoongi many times. How he didn’t take to strangers. How he preferred to stay unknown. How he thrived in the underbelly of society where he could do what he wanted without anyone caring. Yet, after many short talks about him, all of that information still seemed to land on deaf ears. You couldn’t remember a single thing about him except for his name, which landed you in a puddle full of milk and under a confused stare.

Word Count: 7.9k

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7, 8, 9

Masterlist

Dongmin walked you home from the small fast food restaurant. SOojin gave you a flimsy hug before leaving, whispering to call her later. Ahro didn’t say a word at all but the war her arms slithered around you and squeezed unsettled you. There was an odd urgency in their movements, a want so deep but you didn’t understand. You couldn’t piece it together. There weren’t enough clues. There weren’t any half finished ideas. You were stuck, grasping at quickly falling strings that frayed at your touch, causing you to think the worst of things.

For the walk, you tried to participate in an active conversation but the whispers in the back of your mind consumed you. you were being eaten by half-words, half-sentences, half-nothings. Dongmin noticed, like he always did, and his fountain of words slowly trickled to a stop. The few beats that passed were filled with a thick silence that might have been comfortable for him but it was quite the opposite for you. You didn’t know for how long you’d been connected at your hands but it did make something in your heart settle. The clouds in your head were lowered so you floated just above the ground, letting you live in reality but only partially.

When his finger traced its way down your palm, you realized you were near home. Dongmin glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as he usually did when he didn’t want you to see it. The little smile that reached his lips looked a little sour and you could guess the words he was going to say.

“Finally remember I exist?”

With your free hand, you pushed your hair out of your face and let out an embarrassed breath, screwing your eyes shut for a moment. Shivering lightly because of the winter chill, you apologized and leaned into him, shoulder bumping into his arm.

“There’s just a lot happening up here,” you murmured, pointing to your head half-heartedly. He nodded, saying that there always is a lot happening in your head while his free hand fell in his pocket. You looked as he handed you a small box filled with toothpicks from his coat and the weight pressed in your palm was odd. Nearly forming the question he knew was coming, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, mouth perched and confused. His little grin spread further across his lips, eyes mimicking crescent moons and voice filling with amusement.

“I’d like to pick your mind,” he stated so obviously, finding himself the funniest he could be and you blinked, caught between the stupidity of the joke but also the bubbling laughter in your throat. Quickly, you pressed the small box against his chest, trying not to show him the growing smile on your lips but he laughed nonetheless, pulling you closer to wrap an arm around you as he did so.

“I’m telling you nothing,” you chuckled, eliciting a small pout from those rounded lips of his. Coming to the front of your building, you turned to face him slowly. His thin fingers ticked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you found yourself resting into his touch. He led you slowly to the wall of your building, hands moving from your neck to your hips and holding them gingerly. He crooned small pleads to get you to speak your mind, slipping his arms further around you and bringing you so close that it felt like he was sheltering you- to make you feel comfortable.

The light outside your building was a blinding white but it gave him a sort of halo as he tilted his head down to look at you. Little sparks of light danced in his eyes, making him looked so alive, and you were entrapped in the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that could ever catch his eye. It was less so wonder than it was a comfortable realization that the person he was in front of was something he’d been waiting for. It was a pure and baren stare that consumed your whole soul and made you want to give yourself up to him. If not for the realist in you that fought the romance floating in your brain, you might have just let yourself forget every worry that night.

Yet, your hands still came to press lightly against his chest and fidget with the many layers of his coat and vest, adjusting them all as you spoke. “It’s just something Soojin said.”

Tearing your eyes from his, you focused on his clothing, buttoning and unbuttoning them to reveal and hide the white dress shirt underneath. He hummed lightly, urging you to continue with an encouraging nod. You never felt his eyes leave your face but the embarrassment in your cheeks forced you to keep your eyes down.

“And it was about you. Well, she didn’t even really say anything, she just tried to but then Jungkook interrupted and you guys came and she stopped. I know we promised to talk about problems when they came up so I didn’t want to hide this from you or anything- like, I meant to ask you what she might have said. I just get worked up sometimes though and really in my head and I guess it scared me more than it should have because I… I really like you, Dongmin.” You paused here, tilting your head up to gauge his expression at this obvious statement. When there was no immediate shift in his gaze, you bit down on your lip and looked back down again, fidgeting with your sleeves as you muttered, “I don’t want to get hurt is all.”

The mechanical movement of fingers that had come to fix your hair behind your ears stopped slowly but his breathing remained calm. You found that keeping these words within you hurt more than letting them out and a portion of you was so proud for saying it so calmly. You had an idea of yourself as a radically expressive person who let their feelings control them but, in this, you felt matured. Dongmin didn’t say anything, seemingly to figure out how to progress. You were well aware that he avoided confrontation and he wouldn’t want a fight out of this but that didn’t stop the worry from building in your heart. If he had to think about it this much, did he really mess up that bad?

“Look,” he started and the tone was enough to make your stomach fall at a sickening rate, “I was going to tell you but I needed their opinion because I- I didn’t want you to be upset.”

With those words and the dipping of his eyes, blood coursed through your ears louder. He shouldn’t have prefaced his speech with that and it caused worry to build a knot in your chest like a poorly knit ball. He pressed his lips together and stepped the smallest bit away, seeming almost embarrassed to say what he was going to say. You brought your hands behind your back, palms pressed against the wall to keep you perched upwards with a large pout on your lips.

“It’s just that I kind of,” he trailed off here, keeping his gaze on the ground and hands not knowing what to do with themselves, “I was in a sort of relationship with this girl when we weren’t talking. It was mostly physical and I needed comfort and I was mad because I’d never broken out of my comfort zone before. I thought it would help but it didn’t and I stopped seeing her immediately after Jungkook’s party. I promise I did.

“I doubt she even remembers my name, that’s how meaningless it was. I wouldn’t even remember hers if I didn’t feel guilty about it- about lying and keeping it from you.” Dongmin looked like he had more to say after finishing his sentence but refrained from it, looking at you through his eyelashes and the fringes of his hair.

You let out the breath you were holding, stuck between an odd relief and slight anger. While you were glad it wasn’t anything too serious, you couldn’t help but be annoyed he didn’t tell you in the first place. Finding out about it would’ve been worse through Soojin and Ahro though, so you were glad to have asked him. It was just unfortunate that he thought he needed to hide it from you in the first place, like you were some fragile thing that needed to be handled with care. You understood he cared but it was mildly annoying that he needed other people’s opinions on what he could or could not tell you.

For a brief moment, you wondered what else he was keeping secret from you and wanted to press to ask. The caged up part of you wanted to interrogate him, see if he had anymore left to tell you but you kept that part of you in check. It was irrational and crazy to believe he was hiding something else from you. Thinking any of that would lead to distrust and that was the very last thing you could ever want. So, you simply reached out to him again and felt the weight of his body in your hands.

“I’m not that upset,” you admitted, hiding the part of you that you hated the most from him. He didn’t deserve to see the controlling person you tried hard not to be so, when he exhaled in relief and came closer to you, your heart settled for the moment. His eyes fluttered shut as you brushed the hair that had fallen into his eyes away. “I just need to ask why.”

“I missed you,” he murmured, coming closer to lean his forehead against yours. Thee tilting of your chin upwards was coupled with the slow blinking of his eyes. His hands came into yours, knitting your fingers with his as he continued, “and I needed some sort of comfort. I wanted to feel closer to someone and that’s how I thought I could.”

“It didn’t work,” you deadpanned, voice quiet and he huffed a laugh.

“Yeah.”

You simply hummed and tilted your head up more, causing a slight bump of your noses. His eyes lightened as he looked at you, moonlight filtering through the small spaces between your bodies. He let go of your hands to let them wrap themselves around his shoulders while his wandered to the bottom of your back. In that moment, your heart seemed to understand that, under the moon, you two thrived. You were those that lived in the night and had souls as old as the years, finding each other again and again in the depths of the darkness. You became each other’s light and you basked in it like the lilies in your heart couldn’t bloom without it. The way he looked at you could cause water to ripple and you could see yourself in those eyes of his: and you looked happy.

“I understand,” you whispered lightly, though you were sure both of you weren’t following a real conversation by now. He swayed slowly to the music in his head, breathing an apology onto your lips as they touched. Threatening lighting, your skin touched his and you stayed his way for a long beat. Your eyes closed and his head leaned in further, fitting just beside yours in the warm embrace.

Your previous worry didn’t subside but any form of anger dissipated into the lazy wind as it blew by. Though, the moment was beautiful and you let the romantic in your soul sweep you off your feet. The two of you were wrapped in years of unspoken words and emotions and lost time. Everything about you gave into the sweetness of his touch and you handed him the very heart you’d given to so many people before that night. Whether he knew it or not, he was responsible for the beating of it, the pounding of which becoming the tune to which you march across all lines of friendship into a perfect little something else.

Yes, you were worried and for all the right reasons, you decided. You were right to be but it was okay. You figured if you were worried, it was a good sign. You wanted it to be okay so bad that the idea of everything taking the wrong turn scared you. It wasn’t that it couldn’t but what ifs would gnaw at you and you supposed that maybe, this was love: being scared for your life but taking every step forward to something that could be great. Being scared was natural but you knew that, as your fingers laced together, you were going to be okay. You knew more than anything that you were most definitely going to be okay.

“Are you sure you want to come to this?” Jungkook looked at you from the driver’s seat, hands loosely on the steering wheel. He was leading you to a cabin just out of the city and the streets you were on were no longer concrete. You slowly turned your head to face him, feet up on the dashboard and bored look on your face.

“We’re nearly two hours away from home and you decide to ask me now?” You quirked up an eyebrow at him and he pressed his lips together, leaning forward to look at something a little ways down the road. You couldn’t read the sign from where you were but, with an apology from Jungkook’s mouth and the constant peddling of the car forward, it became clear.

It was a makeshift sign with large letters and bright colours stuck in the snow. The large trees covered a lot of the bright sunlight but from the rays seeping through the needles, you could make out the words:

Namjoon’s Super Cool Super Awesome One Day Retreat!!!

This caused a small smile to appear on your face and, as you passed it, you pointed to finalize your argument. “I was invited and I took the day off work… plus how could you deny me from having a super cool super awesome one day retreat?”

Jungkook simply gave you a look and the smile you expected from your little joke was replaced with a frown. You didn’t understand why he was so against you coming. If he didn’t want you here, he shouldn’t have offered to drive and yet, here you were in his car, listening to his shitty pop music with the heat cranked all the way up that made you regret wearing clothes at all. Though, it got you thinking. There were many things Jungkook didn’t want you to do but that you ended up doing despite him. The question was always why and it always puzzled you when you asked, but it didn’t necessarily stop you.

“Why didn’t you want me to meet Min Yoongi?” you managed as the car wound through tiny back streets. There were signs stuck along the path to help people through but Jungkook wasn’t even looking at them, eyes landing on you for a moment before they returned to the road.

He tightened his hands around the wheel slowly and muttered, “it’s a long story.”

“How cryptic,” you mused, turning in your seat to face him and dragging your feet off the dash. You leaned forward, chin resting in your palm now as you narrowed your eyes. “Tell me more.”

“They’re just not the people you think they are, okay?” His words snapped at yours and for the rest of the short ride, he stayed silent. You were taken aback by how sharp he’d been. Usually he was snippy and it was funny but this was serious. There was no twinge of a joke in this and you found it unsettling. You sat back in your seat, tucking your chin into your chest and pouting until the lights of a cabin hit your eyes.

It was stunning. The whole house was made of wood, panelled and antique looking as if no one should ever live inside. It was a deep brown with a large porch running around the entire house. The porch was covered by the roofing, allowing for the small swing and porch chairs to be set up all year round. From the chimney and behind the house, smoke rose in a twirl, like it was dancing with the sky and you watched it with an opened mouth. Remnants of snow hung to the railings and the top of the roof but bright, orange lights shone within the house. The house even stood in a clearing so it seemed illuminated more by the sun and you were in awe.

“Namjoon is this rich?” you asked without even thinking, absolutely starstruck as the car stopped in the pebble driveway. Jungkook fidgeted in his seat before finally turning off the ignition. As he exited the car, he have you a wary look.

“Kind of,” was all he said before closing the door behind him and pocketing his keys. You slipped on your coat and quickly got out too, excited to see the inside and all the wonders it held. There was faint music and laughter at the back of the house, which Jungkook made his way to. You followed, finding a game in stepping in his footsteps.

“Taehyung, stop it! Don’t put your hand on the gri- TAEHYUNG!”

“One! Two! Three!” The man’s voice sounded pained but the yell of pure glory after was all that really mattered in the end. It brought a silly grin to your lips as you rounded the corner to see Taehyung high five Jimin before wincing and saying it hurt.

“Well, Namjoon did tell you to stop,” Yoongi muttered, back to you and sipping a cup of water. Namjoon was going off about irresponsibility, absolutely red in the face as he ran into his house to get bandages, coming back just as quickly. Jimin was the only one besides Taehyung who was amused, almost saying something but spotting Jungkook and you.

Completely abandoning Taehyung, Jimin came to wrap his arms around Jungkook, saying he just missed the best part of the night.

“Well, no, I think I just saw it,” Jungkook chuckled before turning to you and introducing you, although they already knew who you were. Jimin hugged you as well before smiling politely and stepping away. Yoongi gave you a curt nod and lifted his glass before going inside and closing the door behind him. Namjoon didn’t really seem to care, giving a short hello before tending to Taehyung sloppily, messing up his bandage but trying his hardest. You nearly offered to help but Tae’s grin was wide as he waved from you and distracted you.

“You know, I’m really happy Shareen’s in town again,” Jimin said excitedly, taking Jungkook with him inside as they began to speak. Jungkook mentioned Jimin’s girlfriend would be there and you were happy to see Jimin’s smile as he spoke about her.

“So you put your hand on the grill?” you asked, dropping your bag on a chair near the barbeque and opening the hood again as Tae nodded, going to explain why but getting cut off. You felt the heat waft out immediately and shook your head, getting an earful from Namjoon who was struggling to pin the bandage around Tae’s hand.

“Ouch, that hurts,” Taehyung whined, pouting and you caught the look of annoyance on Namjoon’s face with a light smile.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t do stupid things,” he began but you simply placed a hand on his shoulder and he closed his mouth. He gave you a stern look and then Taehyung and muttered, “we’ll talk about this later.”

As he left, the door rattling shut behind him, you gave Tae a sympathetic look. Those rounded eyes of his stared back at you, slightly upset but you worked at the bandage to not embarrass him. You slowly unravelled it, looking in the small medical kit beside him for any balm to put on the burn. Applying it slowly, you had the whistling wind to accompany you, silence filling the air between you. You could feel the tension in Taehyung and pretended not to notice the way his lips shook before he pulled them in between his teeth. Keeping your eyes down, you wrapped the bandage around exactly how Seokjin taught you. When you reached for the scissors to cut the material, Taehyung’s voice came lightly.

“All I do is disappoint him, you know?” This caused you to look him dead in the eye, confused but also understanding of exactly what that meant. Chatter inside distracted you as Taehyung leaned away and avoided your gaze once more. He muttered lightly, “I want to be just like him but all I do is make him upset that we’re friends.”

“I’m sure that’s not it at all,” you whispered lightly, not knowing what else to say while cutting the bandage so you could fasten it with the pin. Tae simply scoffed, turning his head to the side so he faced the looming trees not too far off. The sun was a little lower in the sky and you saw the way it filtered through his hair and painted shadows across his forehead.

“I guess you wouldn’t know anymore,” he murmured lightly. You furrowed your eyebrows, pinning the bandage together. The second you did so, Tae retracted his arm and gave you a kind thank you as he lowered his head. He made his way inside as well and you were left with the cleaning supplies, utterly confused. Anymore?

The chattering from inside seemed muffled compared to the wind blowing outside that was picking up speed. While you tidied up, you let the whipping of it move past your body, shifting the hairs that stuck out of the hat placed tightly on your ears. Everything seemed to have its exact place in the little box Namjoon had set up for himself in emergencies. There wasn’t a thing too big or too small, everything fitting exactly where it should. You paused for a moment, looking at the completed box and feeling an overwhelmed wave wash over you. You couldn’t understand it but staring at the medical kit made you uncomfortable so you shut it quickly, picked up the light duffle-bag from the chair and proceeded inside yourself.

Sounds and smells and the bright orange that was overshadowed by the high sun before was now bleeding into the snow outside due to the high trees and evening coming over the earth. There was laughter further into the kitchen and the brightest smiles you’d seen from two girls you met at Jungkook’s party a little while ago. They introduced themselves to you as Heeji and Devina with hair long and black but soft as silk. They moved as one and spoke in high voices but it was comforting to have some familiar faces. They led you to the room you needed to be in and sat with you as you unpacked, happily getting to know you.

“So you’re Seokjin’s younger sister?” Heeji asked brightly, leaning against a bedpost with both arms wrapped around it like a sloth. Her eyes were wide and kind and boring into you. With a shy smile, eyes averting hers and folding a shirt, you nodded.

“Yeah, I am. How do you-”

“Oh, Taehyung talks about him a lot,” Devina assured, using her hand to gesture down the stairs to the others. Your mouth curled into a small ‘o’ though it didn’t fully click for you why he would. Devina spoke more than she needed to and would disclose it to you anyways.

“I think he really looks up to your brother. He talks about Seokjin like he wants to be him sometimes and is always praising how far ahead in his career he is. It’s weird that your brother is so young but so successful, you know?”

Heeji hummed in agreeance, closing her large eyes and opening them slowly. She looked at you expectantly, touching on Devina’s darker skin with her nails lightly as she spoke. “Is he coming tonight?”

“My brother?” Your eyebrows shot up at the question, pretending not to notice the eagerness in Devina’s face. Her skin seemed to light up at the idea of him, nodding lightly and you repeated the action. As you turned from them to fit your clothes in a small wardrobe, you added, “he wanted to bring his girlfriend but she couldn’t make it so he’s bringing another friend of his.”

“Oh,” Heeji breathed, saving Devina the disappointment. You gave them a kind small, uncomfortable with the situation. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the two girls but more so that their kindness came off as a bit overpowering. Though it was welcome, you weren’t always open to those people. At one point in your conversation where you seemed to fade into the background, they left you to finish unpacking, claiming they were going to get drinks.

“We’ll see you at dinner?” Heeji asked rather than stating but didn’t wait for a response. She simply disappeared down the padded stairs with a wave and a thin smile. You returned it before sitting on the small bed and exhaling lightly.

The outside of the cottage was a deep colour but inside, the walls were panelled with a light wood and they were lacquered to shine. You ran a hand over the wall, feeling where the pieces came together and where imperfections in the wood were. Some light brown and black stains covered the walls but it was more so a design than anything else. The lamps and rooms all held orange lightbulbs as well, making the insides look like a warm hearth. It was comfortable and beautiful but the bathrooms were a bright white that hurt to stand under. Though, it would be good for makeup, you supposed.

The other side of the room held a larger bed, made for two people. Heeji and Devina informed you that they would charitably take the larger bed and give you the single so as to not make you uncomfortable. You nearly snorted at the thought, leaning back on the soft covers and closing your eyes. Everything about this reminded you of an old memory, where your parts would rent out a winter cottage for the entire two weeks of winter break and you’d spend time in the snow, laughing until you couldn’t breath. You remembered Seokjin disappearing into a large mound of snow and screeching for help. You remembered going skating on large hills and dipping under tables as you had snowball fights. You remembered old family friends and getting perched on top of tall snowmen with your friends and taking stupid pictures. There was a spreading of fondness in your heart and suddenly, you were happy to be here.

Amongst most things, everyone kept pressing in on you and Dongmin. There was Seokjin from one side, and your parents from another, and sometimes there would be Soojin disapproving of it. Ahro was as sweet as they came but you could tell even she had her reservations. You cared but also it bothered you that you couldn’t just be happy- that everyone’s opinion weighed down on you like this. You needed some time alone but not home, where everything still felt oppressive. You needed to just have a small vacation where you could think for yourself and really realize the happiness that was sprouting in your heart. You needed a simple escape and you hoped that Namjoon’s super cool, super awesome one day retreat would give you that.

A knock on the door to your room alerted you and you opened one eye to see Yoongi standing in the doorway. He still had that tall glass in his hand but it was filled now and his hand was clutching it from the bottom. The smile that touched his lips was quiet and overshadowed by the darkness of the doorframe. The light shining behind him did give him a beautiful glow and you couldn’t help but wave fondly.

“Can I come in?” His voice was soft and low but familiar. You hummed, hoping he’d take it as a yes, and sat up slowly. One hand moved to rub sleep out of the corner of your eye as he walked into the room, looking around you.

“Tough luck, huh? You’re rooming with Heeji and Devina and they never shut up,” he informed you, a little chuckle forming at his teeth. You groaned, pouting and giving him a helpless look.

“Save me,” you drew out and this elicited another chuckle. He motioned to sit beside you and you nodded, moving over your charger and phone to make space for him. As he sat, he whined and rubbed at his knees with his free hand, making you smile lightly.

“I would if I could but we have a strict ‘no purple’ rule here at Namjoon’s outing this year.” He used finger quotations while he spoke, taking the moment you leaned to plug in your charger and phone to take a sip. As the picture of you and Dongmin making silly faces at each other lit up, indicating your phone was charging, he spoke again but it was cautious and slower, almost hesitant.

“It’s to make the single people feel less lonely or some stupid shit like that.”

You simply turned, moving the pillow so it was standing upright against the wall the bed was propped against. You pressed your back to it, crossing your legs and leaning forward. “But Jimin and Shareen are sleeping together, I’m assuming?”

Yoongi simply nodded deeply, making an ‘isn’t it obvious’ face as he brought his legs up onto your bed too. He leaned against the backboard, facing you as he crossed his legs. Your toes nearly touched and it seemed like a coy gesture when they did so you looked away. A beat of silence fell between you two and the clinking of his rings against his glass filled them until his voice came again, pristine and still like a river.

“Namjoon told me you and Dongmin were dating.” He looked up at you for confirmation. You didn’t say anything but the way his eyes darted between yours seemed to give him everything he needed to know. He changed his position, bringing on leg up against his chest while the other fell off the bed and he wrapped his arm around it as he thought. You were unsure where this was going but he suddenly looked saddened and it somehow broke your heart, watching his head dip down and the hair that had grown long rest over his eyes.

“I think that makes sense for you though,” he said rather cryptically, twining his words together to make them coherent but they didn’t click in your head, “and I think he’s good for you.”

He didn’t look at you once in this, finger picked at a string in the blanket. The sleeves of his shirt covered most of his large hands so he seemed smaller than he was, and the shirt was oversized in and of itself. He seemed swallowed in the material, his only saving grace being the place where he tucked it into the front of his jeans. You watched him for a moment, not understanding, and the words slipped out without you controlling them.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Dongmin is kind and you need that. You wouldn’t be suited for someone like Namjoon or like me.” He lifted his head at this, staring at you to gauge your response. You chose your words carefully here, unsure of why but you came closer to him. This caused a straightening of his back and an electricity sparked in your heart that scared you.

“Do you want me to be?” you asked, wanting it to sound like an innocent question but you knew it didn’t.

You were facing each other, your legs folded under you and his head matching up to yours, just a hand’s distance away from yours. He was craning forward too but there was something that stopped the both of you, a sort of obligation and an understanding of an otherworldly force. His eyes were laying themselves bare to you, parting clouds you never thought you’d see past. There was such vulnerability there and such terror in being this close because what if? The darkness didn’t help with the allure of his deep skin, the only light source coming from a lamp further into the room and the hallway behind him. He looked so mysterious but somehow, the hand that found its way onto your own felt so familiar. It traced its way up your arm and then back down, looking for your fingers and something so desperately within in him broke.

His voice shook in the slightest, quieter and more personal than ever. His breath hit the skin below your chin, whispering, “honestly? Yes. I want that very much.”

The ropes that had tethered themselves around your hearts pulled on themselves, tugging you so close that you nearly wanted to let those lips of your touch his, to experience the fire you felt you’d given up on, to feel so passionately alive. You nearly made the biggest mistake of your life, so close to Yoongi and so far from your responsibilities. Your heart bent at the tugging, bent so far in two that it hurt to be this close and you leaned away. Dongmin’s face flickered in your mind like a flashlight, soft eyes and words that rippled water and reminded you of the best things in the world.

You clenched your hands into fists and sat back, back pressed against the pillow now. The two of you seemed far away, the glass Yoongi was holding now spilling water onto the floor. The sound seemed to be the only thing filling the void, your chests falling up and down. His eyes bore into you, begging for something you didn’t know how to give. Then suddenly, he got up, collected his cup and whispered an apology. His feet carried him away, down the steps into a world that wasn’t your own. You remained in that thick universe, full of regret and confusion and needing to call Dongmin.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side of the phone was enough to encourage your heart to slow and you lay down, pressing your ear against your pillow and breathed out deeply. “I miss you.”

He chuckled lowly, the smile on his lips so evident through the static. “I knew you would.”

Snow fell like diamonds from the sky and drifted closer and closer, dancing with each other before melting in the fire that crackled. You were sat between Taehyung, who was in a happier mood now thanks to the alcohol, and Namjoon, who was somehow talking about the complexity of burning firewood and how it related to life. You listened without hearing what he was saying but nodded along nonetheless. Seokjin was across the fire, roasting marshmallows for everyone very loudly and saying he was the best at it. Though, he burned one and Hoseok hadn’t let it go since. Heeji and Devina were in deep conversation with Jimin and Shareen, talking about the most superficial of things but it was funny to watch Jimin’s reactions. It seemed only you were silent amongst everyone, Yoongi even participating and cracking a laugh here and there with Jungkook, the both of them teasing your brother mercilessly. Yet, when your eyes met, Yoongi’s smile would melt and the snow he was made of parted to show someone so fragile. You could only look away or twidle with your phone.

“Thank you about my hand, by the way,” Taehyung sang, stringing an arm behind you to rest on the logs made for people to sit on them. You raised your eyebrows from your phone, texting Ahro a funny picture but giving him a tight lipped smile.

“It’s no problem.”

You hoped to turn back to your phone, unsure why you were still outside but somehow being inside made you feel trapped. There was no knowing what other mistakes were around every corner and you didn’t want to take any risks. The beauty of being outside was the crisp air that kept you awake and alert. The warmth was what harmed you the most, you were convinced, but sleeping was also such a dream of yours. You were caught between these thoughts but Tae didn’t seem to notice, continuing his little speech.

“Seokjin used to patch me up all the time, you know? Whenever the seven of us went outside and we would do crazy shit. He used to bring me to your house and complain and complain but he was always there. Him and Jimin,” he hummed, looking across the fire before looking at you. He had such a childish expression, cheeks plump and lips spread out over a soft smile. There was an innocence about him that made you feel at peace, like you were friends in some alternate universe.

“I don’t remember that,” you admitted, feeling bad. Taehyung’s brown hair shifted and he shook his head as he leaned back, shrugging.

“You weren’t home much.”

You nodded, taking his word for it before pausing and furrowing your eyebrows. Seokjin and you had lived together for a fair amount of time, your parents pushing the two of you to be independent and free. They really pressed for this so you were always at his beck and call, wanting to do the best for him. You had a curfew, you had a job, you had structure. It made no sense for you not to be home much.

“Are you sure?” A concern built in your chest, wondering if your memory was acting up again, if you were having some sort of lapse. You had been doing so well lately that it would have broken your heart if you were missing something again. You were just starting to move past this.

Taehyung nodded, skin crumpling around his chin as he stuck his bottom lip out. “Yeah. I never saw you and Jin-hyung said it was for the best- that I’d try to steal you or something.”

This was supposed to be a joke, Tae being the only one laughing lightly. You simply stared at him intently, hoping to get more but there was nothing. He rambled about something else while Namjoon drank his beer and Seokjin was preoccupied. Hoseok screeched a laugh, clapping as he doubled over. Someone threw a snowball. Jungkook ate his snacks. Everything moved forward before you and you seemed stuck in that spot. An inexplicable anxiety built and built its way up and you were glued to your seat as everyone left. Shareen and Jimin were the first to leave and Devina and Heeji were the last, this order absolutely not shocking at all. The only people left around the simmering fire were you and Namjoon, who was intently staring at the embers like he had something to say.

You poked at his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond to this, only looking up and narrowing his eyes before brimming a smile. “Want to look at some pictures with me?”

Slowly, you agreed, lifting the blanket off your knees and shaking it. Namjoon began collecting the clothes left behind as well, cleaning up as he kicked some snow onto the embers. He spoke while he did so, telling you this cottage had been in his family for many long years and they’d been taking people there every winter break. He said he was excited to have his friends over after such a long time, echoing what Seokjin had said earlier about missing everyone. There seemed to be a brotherly connection among them and it filled your heart but also broke it because you just couldn’t understand why they stopped seeing each other. You listened intently, nodding and adding in comments and happy to hear him speak. Last time you saw him, he looked very upset but that night, he looked like a flower blooming in the moonlight. It made you smile.

You hurried inside, towards the small lights and the warmth. He waved his hands around and placed them on your shoulders to rub them warm on the way, your hand drawing circles on his back. This was out of character for you but every touch seemed friendly, like Joon was simply looking out for you. It held none of the gravity of Yoongi’s touch and none of the coursing electricity. your heart was still, beating at no pace and not existing at all.

He removed boxes from boxes once you were inside, digging out from under the television set and the bookshelves that lined the walls for all the photo albums he could find. He handed you a bright yellow box, claiming it held its favourite ones. You sat there on the floor, watching him open the box and excitedly talk about every photograph he could.

“Look! With this one, we all saved up and went on a trip to different parts of Scandinavia- is it still called that? I don’t know, either way…” and he’d trail off, telling stories about Taehyung and Jungkook and their skills with cameras.

“Jungkook edited this one,” Namjoon grinned, looking so proud and touching the pictures at the edges. He held everything so gingerly but thrusted them into your hands like they were nothing. You held them like they were treasures, smiling and seeing Hoseok grinning with a plushie sun wrapped around his head. Jimin had black hair, which you recalled lightly, and he was wearing completely ripped jeans and squatting in front of the camera like he owned the world. There was a Yoongi, midway laughing with his mouth open. There was even one of four of them wearing face masks and making ridiculous faces to the camera. You could almost feel the life within them, flipping through so many pictures of Namjoon in beautiful scenes and parks.

“This one is one of my favourites,” Namjoon hummed, pointing at one of all seven boys, your brother included, taking pictures near a beach. There was sand behind them and the were all posing cutely with differently coloured striped tees. Hoseok was wearing a bright yellow and Taehyung wasn’t even looking at the camera. Jimin looked like he was throwing up a peace sign and Yoongi had his chin tilted up as he grinned. Seokjin looked so peaceful, smile bright and full. Everyone looked so happy. You felt your heart clench.

“I love it,” you whispered. Namjoon placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you an encouraging squeeze before stating he needed to go to the bathroom.

“Can I keep looking?”

He shrugged, getting up and away from you down a little hall. He threw these words behind him:

“Do whatever you want!”

You moved a few pictures over, still burrowing through that yellow box in front of you. It seemed small but it held so many wonders, like a gold mine. Your hands sifted through scenery and Namjoon and a bigger, brutish man. Turning it around, you saw the words ‘Jackjoon’s day out!’ scrawled on the back in terrible cursive. The whole thing made you smile still, this comfort in these pictures stealing away all previous thoughts in your head. You let the images dance around, creating possible scenarios for them and wondering how each and every one of them felt.

He had so many photos of your brother too, some you’d never seen before. In fact, this entire box seemed to keep an entire years worth of travels and adventure and fun. There was a date at the bottom of every picture, dating back to nearly two years ago. Yet, everything seemed so wonderful. It seemed like a world you wanted to live in and you desperately wanted to turn back time and jump into these lives- these smiles that stretched into seas of happiness.

Moving another picture over, you found a wrapped collection. Slowly, you removed them to get a good look, taking the casing off to count only four photos. This caused a furrowing of your eyebrows and you wondered how important they were that they needed to be hid. The first picture was sweet though, just all seven of them again. Four were lined up on a bench, side by side and squishing into each other though there was more than enough space. Yoongi was pressed against Jungkook, arm up in the air and mouth wide in a scream. The other three were above, shooting peace signs and little finger hearts, some halfway through talking. You laughed lightly at how sweet it was before flipping to the next one.

This had hair clouding the camera and it seemed to scream chaos, eyes diverted to the person running in. There was a waving of blurry arms and Jimin doubled over in laughter. You traced this lightly, hating the blurriness and flipping again. This one had the whole girl’s body, running with outstretched arms and coming beside Yoongi. His arm bowed for her, creating a place. Dust from the tan ground was kicked up into this picture but somehow, it made your heart race; and so you flipped.

The racing of your heart stopped. Your hands shook. The breath in your lungs was stolen and you felt almost cheated, looking at this picture and not understanding. You gasped for air, darting your eyes between the picture and the other ones. That hair looked so familiar. The face pressed into Yoongi’s, planting the biggest kiss on it. The look of disgust and the way Seokjin’s hand came to push them apart. You didn’t know what to think about it, feeling the world spin and the rug from under you run away. You tried to put your feet down again, to make your head come down from the clouds but it didn’t work. Nothing worked. Not even the tear that dripped onto the laminated photo.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the air and his footsteps seemed to shake the very foundations which you held onto. You felt like someone had thrown you over a cliff and the nails you were hanging on by were shattering one by one. Meeting his eyes hurt you more than anything ever would.

“When was this?” you whispered, showing him the picture only to have his face drop. The picture that faced him was one of you and them, looking so unbearably happy with each other. Namjoon was even between yells in this and you could remember what he said.

“Get a room already!”

The tears that were on the verge of spilling came down when he said your name again, crumpling beside you and trying to explain. His words reached deaf ears, your heart devastated and cracking. All the cement in the world couldn’t fill the holes in it now and no bandage could fit it together. You felt naked and alone, shrouded by a familiar darkness. The worst bit about it was that you remembered exactly how you felt in that moment and that happiness was unparalleled with anything you’d ever felt since.

A/N: so hey! um I know this took me lowkey forever to do and I’m sorry but I hope you can understand why! I was listening to my vinyl the entire time for this and I had to be home alone and ah, full stress man but I hope you enjoyed! Please remember there are only a few more chapters left so hang in there! See you in the next one! Feel free to inbox me any of your questions!

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thecrookedgavel · 4 years

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The Black Box Readings - Ep 3 Transcript

Here’s the transcript for episode 3 of The Black Box Readings, the podcast where I read to you the backup of queer blogs that have gone down.

See Other Episodes

An: Hey, all! And welcome back to The Black Box Readings, the podcast where I read to you the backup of queer blogs that have gone down! I’m your host, An Capuano. So episode one released and I was very happy with how people responded to it. I got a lot of messages saying how raw the experience was, or how happy they were to have the chance to listen to a queer experience. Usually it was from queer people, but sometimes it wasn’t!

Though responses were positive for the most part, the podcast did get some negative attention too. Ignoring all the stuff that wasn’t constructive, there were two main criticisms of the show. The first was actually surrounding its premise. People were concerned that it was unethical to put something that was deleted back onto the internet. Even if it wasn’t deleted, isn’t it essentially stealing to use it in a podcast like this? Ok, so I understand the concerns and I guess I wasn’t clear enough to begin with. I received permission from the original author of the material to use it any way I’d like. Probably something I should have said originally, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. As for whether or not I’m just copying someone else’s work, I believe that The Black Box Readings count as a transformative work, and therefore it’s protected under fair use. There’s more than enough “Me” in this podcast that it’s really become something more than just the original “text”.

The other problem some people had with the podcast was that Emmy didn’t seem like a trans girl at all to them, and they felt like I was grasping at straws in my explanations pointing out trans aspects. Well, I do understand that there isn’t anything that outright says Emmy is trans within her posts in the first two episodes. But what you have to remember is that I actually knew her, and even though it’s sort of a spoiler for this episode, she did come out as trans on her blog. Look, I’m trying to present the posts I chose in chronological order to make a coherent narrative. Even so, it felt too weird to hide Emmy’s identity until this episode, when that’s largely the reason I’m doing this podcast in the first place.

So with all that aside, I’d like to get into the episode proper! Today’s episode is largely a feel-good one. It’s got a lot of positive energy, and focuses on the budding relationship between Emmy and EmeraldSkies. In case you don’t remember, the two of them met playing Overwatch and became fast friends. At this point, Emmy has been posting about their interactions on her blog, and it’s official now that Emmy has a crush. *laughs* it was really cute to watch her navigate through her feelings, but I didn’t want this episode to be… you know, two hours long, so I’ve come up with a few posts that best illustrate an already-established connection. To start us off, here’s one entitled:

“I Told Her

I know I talk about her a lot, but -”

Oh, *Laugh* I guess it happened again. She used EmeraldSkies real name, and I’m really not comfortable saying it in the podcast for privacy reasons. Let’s see, given that EmeraldSkies is Latina, let’s go with Selena, like our favorite wizard from Waverly Place. *laughs*

“I know I talk about her a lot, but Selena is just so cool! I’m sorry if it’s getting annoying to anyone, but I’m not going to hide how I feel either. This is my Tumblr, after all, I can post what I want. Anyway, today I finally told her I was deaf, and that’s the reason we don’t do voice chat. She understood completely, and told me that voice chat wasn’t something she liked doing in the first place. Ahhh, She’s so cool! I’m lucky to have her in my life! I was so scared that she’d see me as weird or broken or something, that’s the usual reaction I get anyhow. But not with her! I’m so happy right now!

Selena has been continuing to share her poetry with me, it’s really good! I feel so at home reading it. It’s such a personal look into her soul, I’m glad she doesn’t feel too vulnerable letting me read it. It’s especially helpful that it’s a medium I can fully understand. Honestly, I sometimes feel a little lost when watching tv, even with captions on. It’s sort of an incomplete experience, you know?”

I find the sort of “sorry, not sorry” attitude Emmy has here to be a big step up from previous ones. She exudes a bit of confidence here, not caring if people unfollow her because she’s talking about a crush. It’s nice to see Selena bring that out in Emmy. It’s also really heartwarming that Emmy didn’t receive the usual reaction she says she gets when telling people about her disability. Selena seems like a very accepting and kind person, and I think Emmy deserves that in her life. Also, I want to point out that Selena is averse to using voice chat. There’s a reason for that, and you’ll probably be able to guess it by the end of the episode.

Also, Selena is an amateur poet! I feel I should point that out, because it’s immediately relevant in our next post, which is Emmy talking about a poem that Selena wrote especially for her.

We don’t get the poem itself, just Emmy’s interpretation of it, which does give us a fair bit of insight on to what the poem might have been like.

The post is called: “She wrote a poem for me??

I’m so excited you guys, you have no idea! Selena wrote me a poem! And I’m swept off my feet by it. She says it was nothing, but I don’t think so! She called it “Flowers Down by the Lake” and it’s beautiful! Like, I don’t want to read into it too hard, but I think this means she likes me back?? And not just because it’s a poem that she wrote for me, but because of what’s IN the poem, guys!

It’s about two flowers that are more beautiful not in spite of how they’ve been damaged, but because of it. And how they’re both really different, but they’re even more beautiful because they’re side by side. So. Fucking. Romantic! I love this poem, it gives me so many feels.

Maybe there’s something to this whole ‘fate’ thing after all”

Before getting into the meat of this post, I’d like to touch on the last line. This is where Emmy first publicly posts about the idea of fate starting to appeal to her, though I imagine that she has been playing around with the idea of it for a while now. I’m not personally sure I believe in fate myself, so *sigh* I’m not entirely sure why this seems so important to me? So, I like to look at the universe as truly random, and because of that, two people finding each other amongst that randomness is the most beautiful thing imaginable. So whether it was just the randomness of the Overwatch matchmaking system, or fate itself that brought these two together, I think that’s something really special.

Anyways, I’ve never gotten the chance to actually read this poem, but it sounds pretty spectacular. The message that Emmy sees is one that we can all take to heart. All of you are beautiful in your own way, and it’s in part because of what you’ve been through. You’ve been shaped by your hardships in a way that makes you more of a person, and the people around you that are enriching to your lives help you to “bloom”, so to speak.

Although I am partial to getting all sappy with you folks, we do have an episode to get through, and so we’ll be moving on to our next post.

And what a post it will be! This is for sure the most important post in this episode, perhaps the most important one so far. I alluded to it in the beginning of the episode, and I’m really excited to finally share it with you all. I can’t hype it up enough, but I am certainly trying *laughs*. It’s called:

“I Have Something To Tell You

I don’t want to waste any time, so I’m just going to come out and say it: I’m a trans girl! If you don’t know what I mean, it’s kind of hard to explain, but I’ll try to.

“Trans” is short for transgender, which means that I don’t identify with my birth sex as my gender. So I was born a boy, but I feel like a girl on the inside. Gender is just different than sex. Period. It’s complicated, I know, since we use similar words to talk about them, but it’s true.

Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of interactions with kids my age, because I was homeschooled. A lot of interactions were through reading books. I found myself enthralled with stories about girls, but less interested in stories about boys. When I did read stories about boys, I’d latch onto female secondary characters and see the world through them. Some examples of female characters I saw myself as are: Clary from Mortal Instruments, Katniss from Hunger Games, and even Hermione from Harry Potter.

When it came to video games, I found myself picking female characters when given the choice. I even do it in Overwatch! I’m a Mercy main, after all.

I used to tell myself that it was because the books were just that good, or because the video game characters were cute, but I see now that was only half of the truth. It’s really because I saw myself in those characters, that’s the kind of soul I have, you know?

There are other, more private reasons surrounding my body I won’t get into here, as well.

I guess I realized what I was feeling because, well, Selena is a trans girl too! I guess I found out when we decided to swap pictures of what we both looked like. She prefaced her’s by saying that she might look a little boyish, and that’s because she’s trans! I was happy that she felt close enough to me that she could share that, since she’s more private about this sort of thing than I’m being. I’ve never met a trans girl before, especially not in real life, so that’s why it took me so long to figure out. Plus my Dad is very “traditional”, so I’ve been conditioned to hide who I am throughout the years. I doubt he’d embrace me as his daughter with open arms, so for now, it’s a secret I’m keeping from him. If he thinks I’m going to go to hell for it, then fuck him. I don’t care what he thinks about me anymore.

Thank you for reading to the end of this post! I hope I made sense.”

So there we have it, official word from Emmy that she is trans. Not only that, but Selena is trans too! There’s a lot to unpack here, so we should get started. She gives a good explanation of what being transgender means for her, even if it contains a few pieces of old language, like being “born a boy.” It’s generally best not to say that about someone else, fair warning. It’s good that she had that sort of “aha” moment when Selena explained what transgender means.

For me, my Aha moment was in the form of a rather… outdated term, I think it was “Male identified lesbian.” *laughs* Ohh, well… I guess I had some suspicions about myself, and so I did some googling. And I found this term that sounded so much like me. It had a bunch of bullet points like, attracted to lesbians, identifies with women over men, stuff like that. It was actually kind of problematic, looking back because it was really steeped in men sexualizing lesbians, but it was a stepping stone for me when I was 20ish. I don’t think that website is still there all these years later

Definitely something that I did when I was younger that affirms my trans identity looking back was wearing dresses. Not an Aha moment in the slightest, though. Well not for me, but probably for my friends *laughs* When I was 14, my friends put together a murder mystery party. It was a pre-written story, and there were roles to assign to everyone. And I got assigned the mother of the victim. My friends just thought of me and said, you know what would really suit An? Playing a woman. Heh, And I rocked it, too. It helped that one of my friends brought a dress for me to borrow during the party. Though I wore it so well and was obviously so confident wearing it, that she let me keep it. I’d use that same dress to play a woman again in a play, but maybe that’s a story for another time.

Back on track, Emmy talks about playing video games as female characters being a big indicator looking back, and I really feel that one. I remember specifically choosing Talim and Tira from Soul Calibur all the time and being like, it’s obviously because they’re fast characters, and that’s just my playstyle. But naw, it largely had to do with me seeing myself a certain way. Like, I remember specifically one time I looked at my stats in Left 4 Dead, a game I played all together too much of, and noticed that I picked Zoe to play as like, 80% of the time? Like there’s 4 characters to choose from, all the same stat-wise, and I picked the girl more often than not. It sort of shook me to my core when I realized this, but I didn’t know what it really meant until a few years later.

Also, to preemptively answer any concerns about Emmy realizing she’s trans because of someone else, don’t worry. I don’t think she’s like, copying Selena’s identity to fit in or something like that. The thing is… seeing a trans person as just that - a person - can be a trigger to figuring out who you really are. Like, this was the case for my ex who I was dating at the time I was finally able to call myself a woman. No name change, no pronoun change, or anything like that, but I had admitted it out loud by then. It sort of had a reaction in him to call himself gender fluid, and I think that was really important for him. In this case, it was a stepping stone to realizing that he was a trans man, but that’s still valid, right? It’s ok to change your identity as you learn more about yourself. Labels can change over time. For Emmy, Selena was probably the first instance of positive representation that she ever saw. Anyways, even though my relationship kind of exploded, I talked with him at a later date, and we expressed how important being instantly supportive was to each other. We lost contact since, but I honestly hope he’s doing alright out there.

That’s probably enough about me, sorry. *laughs* This post just sort of pulls it all out of me, you know?

Either way, we should probably get back to the posts at hand so we can end this episode in a reasonable timeframe. So I messaged Emmy to congratulate her, and I know she probably saw it, because she references something very similar to what I wrote to her in her next post. I don’t remember what exactly what I sent, just that at the time, I recognized what I sent in her wording. Also in the post, there’s another section that reminds me of the frequently asked questions about being disabled. Though this time around… well we’ll talk about it after I read it to you.

“Thank you and Fuck you!

Sorry not sorry about the title, but don’t worry, you know which one you are if you recently sent me a DM. First of all, thank you for all the kind and supportive words you all had to say! Coming out is really hard, but you made it worth it! I feel so loved and valid, it’s been great to have you all in my inbox!

However, there were other people in my inbox that I appreciated a lot less. Lots of transphobic assholes messaging me about needing mental help and how I’m going to hell now. Dicks asking me if I want to chop off my dick now, and of course, fucktards telling me to kill myself. Many of you said you’re unfollowing my blog too. So, all I have to say is fuck you!!! That’s all.”

I feel like we should talk about the second part of the post. I honestly believe she has a right to be angry here, and lashing out is perfectly natural. So I’m not saying she’s not allowed to tell transphobes off. But if you notice the last time she got a lot of upsetting messages in her inbox, she handled it with grace. There was a “fuck you” for sure, but it was implied, rather than… you know, in the title? And I think I know why there’s such a difference in tone here.

When you come out like this, you’re telling your truth for the first time. Everything feels a lot more raw and vulnerable for you. She’s probably used to the dumb questions about being deaf, so she’s developed a way to politely answer the grosser questions. But here, it’s been like, a few days? She’s going to feel like she needs to go on the attack here.

Coming out as trans for me was really hard too, and I didn’t even do it on an online platform. I’m even hesitant to talk about it now, because of how deeply personal it is. But I think it’s important to give you context to why Emmy would want to say “fuck you” to so many people.

So the first person I ever came out to was a friend of mine from high school. She was… not a great person. She was a complete narcissist, she lied to me constantly and ended up using me for sex. That and she was deeply transphobic. Honestly, I could talk about that whole situation forever, so I won’t get started. What’s important is that when I told her I felt like a girl on the inside, she told me that was weird. And that really hurt my personal growth. It put me back into the closet for a few years. I didn’t tell anyone again for a while. The screwed up thing is that she was queer herself, and she was dating someone who would later come out as a trans guy. She didn’t support him either. I remember her telling me that it was stupid that he changed his name, and being impressionable at the young age of 22, I believed her. Even after I came out to my family, I didn’t change my name for a good while after that.

Oh, speaking of my family, coming out to them went very, very poorly. *sigh* I was having dinner with them, and I had decided earlier that day that today was the day. I finally brought up enough courage to finally say that I was a girl… and they all laughed at me. That was about 5 years ago, and the laughter is still something I never got over. After I clarified I wasn’t joking, they took it really badly. I was told later that I had almost given my dad a heart attack when I clarified that I was not only a woman, but a lesbian too. There was a lot of yelling at the table. They still have some trouble with my name and pronouns these days, but they honestly try really hard, and I really appreciate that about them. But the initial experience? It was extremely traumatizing.

Coming out is something that you never actually get to stop doing, and I could tell more horror stories, but I think I have given you enough of an idea of why Emmy felt so many raw emotions when writing that post.

Next up is another special post that continues the trend of being a big turning point in Emmy’s life. It’s in the form of an announcement, and I feel like I should mention that the overall time lapse in this episode is rather large. Obviously she has been posting a lot about Selena and they’ve been spending a lot of time getting to know each other. In the interest of brevity, I’m only touching on the major points. That may make it seem like things were rushed, but please note that they weren’t. She starts things off with:

“I have another announcement to make!

Many of you have been DMing me asking about me and EmeraldSkies, and saying how we should be together. Well I have good news for you! We’re official! We’re in lesbians together, lol. We’ve known each other for months now, although it feels like I’ve had a thing for her forever. Anyway, she asked me if I wanted to try and make it work long distance, and I did! So I said yes! I’ve never been happier! Also, I convinced her that her poetry is totally amazing and she needed to share it with the world. Don’t just take my word for it, check out her new Tumblr!”

And there was probably a link to Selena’s Tumblr if you clicked on the last sentence. Now, I never personally messaged Emmy about this, but I did ship them very hard since the point where Selena wrote her first poem for Emmy. It felt so wholesome to see this announcement, and not just because my ship was confirmed. Emmy said right there that she had never been happier. She was finally feeling fulfilled for the first time in her life, and I think that had a lot to do with coming out, which had a lot to do with Selena in the first place. So seeing them together was such a treat.

Alright! Last post of the episode. Here we have something a little different than what we’re used to. It’s not a post that Emmy has written, but a post that she reblogged. Since she put it on her blog, it counts for our purposes, especially since it’s about her in the first place. It’s a poem about Emmy written by Selena. And it’s titled:

“Free From Tyranny

Although you still feel trapped, you are now free,

It may seem like you are damned by the followers of God,

Stuck under the rule of a not-so-heavenly father,

But it is all an illusion, completely superficial.

For you see, you have been freed,

Freed from fear, denial, and self-loathing,

These are the metals that form the bars of the true prison,

The prison of the mind, the prison of the self.

You have bent these bars, they are nothing to you now,

So even if you still feel the tyranny from the outside world,

Know that you are finally free from the tyranny of yourself

And you are so beautiful for it. “

It’s quite a lovely little poem, and I do love the themes and the message. It’s just that, *sigh* I don’t know if I can agree with it fully? Yes, for sure, that being free to be your true self to yourself is magical. It’s something that was a huge turning point for my own personal growth. But whether or not that makes you truly free? I can’t say for sure. A terrible environment can really hurt a person’s sense of self. I worry that after a while of it, even folks with the brightness of convictions might willingly go back into their own prisons, so to speak. I do really enjoy how it’s written though, and my view of Selena as a poet isn’t hurt by my worries here.

Anyways, Emmy posts a little reply in her reblog that I find pretty funny,

“I love this poem, but I wonder who it’s about”

As if you don’t know Emmy, stop being silly *Laughs*

Thank you for listening to this episode of The Black Box Readings! Thanks again for all for your feedback, supportive or constructive, it honestly all really helps! I went really deep with the anecdotes today, I hope it wasn’t too much. Follow me on Twitter at TheCrookedGavel to stay up to date on this and other queer podcasts. Feel free to contact me there as well. This is An Capuano, signing off!

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otp-bumbleby · 7 years

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Do you hear that? Bzz bzz. It’s the sound of another Bumbleby reasoning post! I’m focusing on coincidences, similarities, and links. And a whole lot of everything. Bonus points for being a bee shipper true and true.

I’m warning you now, this is like over three fuckin thousand words long plus pictures. Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, go!

Okay so look

Is this purely coincidence?

Their outfit’s accent colours yes I count a robotic arm and makeup as accent colour ok:

Are each other’s eye colours:

Right, right. Everyone knew that!

So…

“Yang has two eye colours!” I hear from the back.

Well my friend, what colour is that? Red you say? What colour was Blake’s ex-partner’s accent colour? OH THAT’S RIGHT, red!

Her ex-partner? Argued to be the beast to Blake’s beauty in her Beauty and the Beast story.

Except: Blake has definitively left him behind. Before the show even begins, she abandons him after realising that he had become somebody she didn’t recognise. She said it herself in ‘Mountain Glenn’:

“When I realised my oldest partner had become a monster, I ran.”

So, Blake’s a lone beauty. Hold up! Not really.

Enter Yang!

In the Yellow trailer, we see Yang using her good looks and charm to mess with Junior. Yet underneath this exterior, we see a raging monster burning with rage. Literally. She’s on fire.

Hell is unleased upon Junior’s henchmen, the Malachite twins, and his club.

Then, Yang loses it when Junior pulls out some of her hair; her eyes turn red, she finishes him off with a devastating right hook to his face and he flies out the window like a chump.

Did I mention she was a raging beast? That’s how Yang fights. Her semblance allows for this. Energy-absorption; which she stores and uses against opponents. It is a little unclear the details of it, as she often just becomes angry and her eyes turn red and boom.

Like at initiation, where an Ursa cuts a little bit of her hair – she goes on a one-woman rampage before Blake cuts in and finishes the fight off.

And it feels like nay a moment passes before she’s angry again; with Nora riding in on an Ursa and Pyrrha running towards them with a Deathstalker on her tail. Yang wants two seconds of peace before something crazy happens again but ya know, that’s impossible.

Or when RWBY fights the Paladin that contains Roman; Yang is smashed through a highway pillar, comes out strong enough to stop the giant robot hitting her in its tracks, and executes a one punch hit that destroys it (with Blake’s help of course).

Let’s not forget the well-discussed scene in ‘Burning the Candle’; she is angry outside of battle when Blake is running herself into the ground over the dangers of the White Fang and Torchwick. Blake refuses to listen to her, and she even goes as far as physically shoving Blake to get the point across that she’s too far gone. Also, “coming out” is mentioned.

And in ‘Never Miss a Beat’ we have Neon Katt aggravating Yang by taunting her with jabs at her obvious bust size and boiling rage as a consequence. Here, Weiss and Yang had trouble with the opponents they faced off against. Weiss was defeated by Flynt, and Yang couldn’t hit Neon. Yang trumped Flynt (get it? That’s not a Trump joke, by the way), and Neon literally tripped up to give Yang the easy win.

Then things start to go wrong, big time. In ‘Fall’, it looks like Yang’s finally shown how much of a Beast she can be. In the 1v1 versus Mercury, she taps into her semblance at a very low aura level (16!) after he unleashes some sort of super barrage of bullets. She punches her way to a win – even though we can’t be sure if Mercury deliberately lost, or went into the fight not expecting he would lose without throwing the match. But he loses, as is crucial to Cinder’s plans.

And in typical Yang fashion, she hits Mercury first, and asks questions later, when she sees - what is Emerald’s illusion – him trying to attack her after the fight is finished. The whole world watching sees Yang break an innocent kid’s leg, after she defeated him.

Those watching thinks that she is a ruthless, violent, monster. An interesting parallel to say the least. Blake, a Faunus, judged because of something she cannot change. Yang, judged because she was tricked.

They share a sad truth – the world doesn't like them.

Not to mention, once again, Blake’s partner has become what she fears most.

(If only she had seen Cinder, Mercury and Emerald when they visited Adam while she was still with him; this might have been avoided! But, plot)

But we have Yang trying to convince her team she saw Mercury attack first – Ruby and Weiss easily believe her. Blake has trouble because, “this is all just very familiar”.

“But you’re not him.”

So, Blake chooses to trust Yang. She does not see her as the Beast.

Thus far, Yang has won almost every fight we’ve seen using her semblance. Her semblance is dangerous. She takes hits and deals them back at twice the power. But to take hits, is to take damage. She’s not invincible.

Yeah, let’s touch on the even more discussed scene in ‘Heroes and Monsters’.

After dealing out some physical abuse to Blake, Adam Taurus, mister Blake’s ex-partner, delivers this chilling threat:

“I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love,”

“starting with her.”

Aaaaaaaaaand Adam stabs Blake to bait Yang, Blake pleads to deaf ears for Yang to not do the thing; Yang charges in eyes red fists blazing and does the thing anyway (say that to the tune of Vanessa Carlton’s ‘A Thousand Miles’) and her arm is dismembered for her effort. Blake knew she’d do that, and she knew Adam would hurt Yang just to punish her.

Suddenly, Yang has become the victim, and she’s become the victim because of Blake’s past betrayal of Adam. Not to say it’s Blake’s fault – it’s not – but it is to say that Blake believes it’s her fault and she totally feels guilty.

No longer is Blake Beauty; she’s become the Beast that has brought this misfortune upon her friend.

What’s my point in all this? That they fit together in the basis of Beauty and the Beast. Not just that Blake is Beauty, and Yang is the Beast, but they both fit both roles.

This one’s a bit more symbolic:

The song ‘Red Like Roses’, which plays during the Red trailer, describes each colour (and thus also each member) of team RWBY.

Red ‘like roses’; White ‘is cold and always yearning’. Ruby’s surname is Rose; Weiss comes across as cold, but obviously has deeper reasons for this.

But the point lies in the next two lines.

Black ‘the beast descends from shadows’; Yellow ‘beauty burns gold’.

So, Black is the beast here. During the Black trailer, the song ‘From Shadows’ plays, which is the ‘theme song’.

Blake is Black – the beast descending from shadows.

Yang’s colour is Yellow (or, gold, same thing yo).

Yellow Beauty burns gold – the song that plays during the Yellow trailer is ‘I Burn’ - well, the remix. Which consists of excerpts of ‘Red Like Roses’, ‘Mirror Mirror’, ‘From Shadows’, and finishes with ‘I Burn’. But it’s still ‘I Burn’.

The text that prefaces the Yellow trailer reads:

A spark becomes a flame in most cases, and again we have the motif of burning fire and beauty associated with Yang.

Because let’s face it. Typically, Yang is beautiful. I don’t have to explain this one. Her symbol is a burning heart. Hot and…hot. Two kinds of hot.

Blake is her beast, the Faunus that the world thinks ill of. The Faunus that was part of the White Fang. The Faunus once partnered with the dude that cut off her arm.

I feel like I’ve made the Beauty and the Beast argument here, not to mention it’s been made a lot already. These are all details; big and small; obvious and subtle, that surely cannot be coincidental. (SURELY????)

Now, I gotta take a small thing from the Yellow trailer’s preface text, this discussion’s not really that significant, but I had to do it anyway.

“Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical” and “misshapen spark”.

The public wants symmetry – but we have Yang, that shows off anything but symmetry. She must be that misshapen spark. (FORESHADOWING!! WHY MONTY?!)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LET’S PLAY!: spot the asymmetries!

Obviously, Yang’s arms are technically are asymmetrical now. That one’s a given!

But, let’s take a look at Yang’s original outfit, y’all:

Her symbol is on her left breast; it is a heart after all!

That belt, girl! Satchels on the left, a bit of fabric over the top on the right. Burning heart on the right, as well. Even a bit of fabric that I don’t know what to call that tapers off to one side only.

Then you got them socks. The left one is above the knee, and the right is below. And a piece of purple fabric peeking outta the left boot for good measure.

Then we have the Hunter outfit featured in ‘Painting the Town’:

It’s a little less prominent in this outfit, but we have an overcoat that crosses over the torso, rather than doing up right in the centre. This one even tapers off to her left hip at the hem!

She’s also got another belt with a satchel just on her left side.

Then that piece of purple whatever the heck it is attached to her left hip. This one’s all left (insert arm joke here).

A little observation of her ‘don’t give a shit’ outfit:

Ya gotta notice the sleeves being different lengths accommodating the loss of her right forearm.

The left sleeve bears her father’s emblem.

There is an extra pocket on her right thigh, above her emblem. A little Grimm patch is on her right hip too.

Her current outfit which debuted in ‘No Safe Haven’ combines a little of everything to me. It’s hard to get a good look at every angle with what little we’ve been given, though:

Ditching the scarf, Yang’s now got a collar that buckles up on the right.

It looks like her overcoat/vest zips up on her right side, that opens across her chest diagonally. It’s not in the center to me, at least.

I can see her belt has brown fabric attached to it, and on her left hip the fabric folds over the belt and reaches around to the back.

The purple fabric is back at it again on her left knee!

Never symmetrical.

Who else has got some asymmetries in their outfits? (EVERYBODY, I HEAR YOU SAY?)

Yeah, there’s something odd in everyone’s outfits. But if we look at team RWBY, it’s most prominent in Yang’s, and then Blake’s.

Blake’s original outfit:

She’s only got one asymmetry, which is fairly obvious. There is a long black sleeve she wears on her left arm.

The ribbons on each wrist only differ slightly, and I mean slightly, I barely count that.

Her intruder outfit, that’s almost completely symmetrical:

There’s one oddity on her belt – a satchel on the left hip.

The belt itself is a little lopsided.

There’s also a similarity here though, one of those fabric skirt things that I still don’t have a name for!

Blake’s current outfit has a little more asymmetry than the rest:

There’s a strap that she uses to carry Gambol Shroud. This goes over her right shoulder, rather than the pack she used to have on her back.

Then her belt, yet again, has a satchel on the left hip.

And on her boots (the longest boots probably in existence or they’re just accessories I really can’t tell I’ve tried to see if they’re not actually all boots and still am undecided), there’s another strap on her left thigh.

And I also note here that Blake’s got some major coattails going on too. Another similarity!

I hear you though, “THAT AIN’T SHIT”

Yeah, you right, the outfits aren’t such a big overlap. But that’s where they fit in the flow of this post; I still find that the outfits play a part, however small, in all this.

There are a lot less asymmetrical features in Ruby’s and Weiss’s outfits overall. Combat skirts, y’all!

But I suppose we need a bigger link between these two for this to seem worth it. I’ve seen plenty of arguments against why these two shouldn’t be together.

Recently, I saw something that went along the lines of the main character’s stories don’t have to focus on romance; a sub-plot is okay, but to say that their stories are so definitively focused on a romance between them isn’t right (okay that’s probably really inaccurate but it’s close enough to the point).

Except I think that’s kind of a lame argument. I don’t think this story focuses on romance between them. It focuses on all the things that are similar, or are a link between them, or how they balance each other out enough for it to seem part of the story without taking away from it.

Blake’s main flaw is that she runs away. She ran from her parents when her father stepped down as leader of the White Fang. She ran off with Adam to try and fight for the Faunus’ cause, but eventually she ran away from him when she couldn’t face what he had become. When Blake let slip she was a Faunus, she ran because she didn’t know how to deal with the reaction from her team. When Adam cut off Yang’s arm, Blake ran in fear that he’d come back to finish the job and then some if she stayed.

Her semblance, as Blake so eloquently described:

“I was born with the ability to leave behind a shadow of myself, an empty copy that takes the hit while I run away.”

I felt the way she says this makes it seem that she’s almost ashamed of this, like she’s enabling herself and this is a defect that allows cowardice.

In her face-off with Adam in ‘Heroes and Monsters’, he begins by criticising this as she looks fearful at the sight of him,

“Running away again? Is that what you’ve become my love? A coward?”

Blake fends him off a wounded student, angrily stating,

“I’m not running!”

His response,

“You will.”

And she does.

This fault of character is “coincidentally” what Yang has the biggest issue with in life!

Yang’s birth mother, Raven, abandoning her – she left without giving Yang a chance to stop her. Yang was a baby; she couldn’t stop her as a newborn infant, but she’s still asking the question of why.

Summer Rose, however unintentionally, left her as well.

Her father was devastated by this, and so he mentally checked out of life for a while and the parental role in her own and Ruby’s life fell to Yang.

Yet Yang’s search for Raven is the purpose of her visit to Junior in the Yellow trailer. She’s still searching for answers as the show progresses.

Yang explains to Blake the story of Summer Rose’s and her real mother’s disappearances, she describes that when she was a young child, she almost got herself and Ruby killed trying to follow a clue,

“My stubbornness should have gotten us killed that night.”

In the moment, that line is to reason that Blake is exhausting herself to the point where, if she had to fight, she would die. Just like Yang did as a child searching for her mother.

Yet it looks like it could have been more foreshadowing. Yang’s stubbornness is a part of why she relies on her semblance in fights. That’s just the way she does it.

When Adam cut her arm off, he was going to kill her. She was defenseless! Her stubbornness should have gotten her killed. But once again, someone swoops in to save her – this time, it’s Blake.

Yes, she wouldn’t have been in that situation if it weren't for wanting to help Blake. But she wouldn’t have been in that situation as well if she tactfully approached fights. (ADAM WOULD HAVE SLAYED HER ANYWAY. PROBS.)

Blake knows Yang has an issue with abandonment. Yang knows Blake tends to run. And here they run into an issue, because Blake runs from Yang, and Yang is angry that she ran. It’s like star-crossed lovers or some shit!

In ‘End of the Beginning’, Ruby and Yang have a little catch up when Ruby wakes up. Yang tells her that Blake ran, and Ruby questions why.

You hear how devastated Yang sounds when she says,

“I don’t know,”.

She looks like she’s about to cry, actually. Remember the last time she cried? When she was afraid Blake didn’t trust her? Yeah…

Anyway, Yang then stops herself. She becomes bitter and claims,

“and I don’t care.”

Poor, innocent, sweet, naïve Ruby says there has to be a reason why Blake left.

“No there doesn’t. Sometimes bad things just happen, Ruby.”

Yang’s resigned herself to be somebody people just leave. For no reason. And she’s upset.

I mean, we’re all like 1000% sure that Yang totally cares why Blake left. She just can’t admit that she cares that she’s been abandoned. Again. Did you hear ‘Armed and Ready’? I think Yang cares. (I’ve written care so much it doesn’t look like a real word anymore)

IS THIS ALL JUST A COINCIDENCE? (IS THIS THE REAL LIFE, IS THIS JUST FANTASY? CAUGHT IN A LANDSLIDE, NO ESCAPE FROM REALITY, OPEN YOUR EYES, LOOK UP TO THE SKIES AND SEE. I’M JUST A POOR BEE, I NEED NO SYMPATHY.)

Is it just a fucking coincidence that Blake runs and Yang is run from? (Better fuckin not be)

This isn’t a focus on building a romance story between them. It is crucial to their character building. This is building the foundations for the fuckin plot. The core of their characters, yada yada.

Their team is split apart. How will they become team RWBY again if they don’t sort this out? They’re going to have to sooner or later. The show is literally called RWBY.

They’re gonna have to address the Goliath in the room. Yang lost her arm to protect Blake. I think there’s gonna have to be some “you leaving hurt me more that losing a stupid arm” talk. Sun already said the whole, “you pushing us out hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us” line, and he makes a lot of sense! Blake seemed to have a good reaction to that. And Yang’s talked sense into Blake before, and I can see that happening again, since Blake’s all guilty about her.

She hopes that her team hates her for leaving, so that she has an excuse to stay away, even though she misses them. That’s guilt.

She wants to deal with the consequences of her choices, apparently. Sun tells her she can’t make the choices for her friends.

Because that’s the exact same way that Raven left Yang. Without giving her a choice. Blake left before Yang even had the chance to ask her to stay! I bet Yang’s sick of that, huh?

Remember when Blake said,

“They were my friends. I loved them like I never thought I could love anybody.”

(Cue the tears. Arryn did such a good job VA in V4).

Blake’s gonna go back to them. It’s just a matter of time.

Ahhhh. What was my point again? I’m so caught up (USHER!) in all this analysis of things that my brain is just overloading. Every day, I think of something else. I really tried to consolidate my thoughts on the topic for real, just so I could get a new perspective and see if I make any sense.

There’s been so many sneaky hints in this show. So many.

Which is why we all kind of freaked out when Yang left Patch and went on that fuckin boat:

THAT. FUCKIN. GAY. BOAT.

Because it had to be the same boat Blake traveled on, didn’t it?

TELL ME IT’S NOT (BUT DON’T. I KNOW IT’S THE SAME BOAT. THIS ISN’T SOME TITANIC CONSPIRACY THEORY).

YOU HAD TO DO THIS TO US, DIDN’T YOU, CRWBY?

This post is a mess and so am I!

After all this talking, I gotta leave my real opinion here.

I just happen to think that this all makes a pretty good reason for a realistic situation where they realise that Blake found someone she does not want to run from, and Yang has someone that she really doesn’t want to lose.

Then you factor in things like they level each other out; Blake is mellow and Yang is boisterous; Blake is reserved and Yang is an open book (thank you Arryn for pointing that one out [RWBY ladies podcast from yonder years ago]); Blake’s dry sarcasm and Yang’s bad jokes; black and yellow is a good colour combination; “I love it when you’re feisty!”; *insert your favourite bee moments here*; etc.

Maybe it won’t turn into a romantic relationship, but the possibility is there.

I mean, you don’t have to want it, but you don’t need to be negative about it. If you don’t like a ship, just ignore us that do. I ignore all those people that argue for a ship I don’t see happening, because who am I to go there and crush all the things they believe in? Did we notice how I did nothing but talk about Bumbleby here? No other mention of any other ship. No hate. Just love.

People write these posts to give insight as to why they enjoy and choose a ship. Not so they can be pulled down and ridiculed; I don’t come on here trying to find common ground with people and celebrating a possibility that two badass chicks might be a little bit gay for each other.

You celebrate your ships, I’ll celebrate mine. And we can all bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone can eat and be happy, no matter what happens.

I just have a lot of feelings.

(Okay, go home.)

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