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anti-porn-unicorn · 3 years

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I’m a girl (18 now) who got exposed/addicted to pornography at a really young age, and I wanted to share my specific story on this blog so that the platform can get it out there.

Under the cut is my full story, and it’s a little long winded, so if you don’t want to read the whole thing, I bolded in purple the general topic/idea of that section. Just look for whichever of those interests you and the section will be about that. The first and last paragraph are good for context and end goal, though.

Thank you.

I don't fully remember my first exposure to porn. I know I was in third grade (6-7 yrs old, I had skipped a grade). The reason I had wanted to share my story, in fact, is because I don't see many stories with circumstances similar to mine. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. 1. The person is a victim of CSA/grooming. 2. The person was at a generally pubescent age (~11-14). And/or 3. The person experienced porn as a quick disturbance. To be clear, these stories are as valid and important as mine, and I simply think more perspectives make evidence of the effects of porn more airtight. I've never been the victim of SA, harassment, or grooming, ever in my life. My story shows the effects of exclusively porn.

The first memory I can recall about this was actually the first time I got caught. I was 6 yrs old, and very into video games,so on this day, I was playing a 3D porn game on my crappy hand-me-down laptop. I kind of knew that what I was doing wasn't acceptable, so I was sitting in my room in the corner as far from my door as possible. My mom walked in so I just slammed the laptop shut because I wasn't that good at hiding things. My mom obviously asked what I was doing, and I tried to keep her from looking, but it was right there when she reopened it. This is where the battle of it begins.

From ages 6-14 I don't have a good timeline of events but a few pop out that exemplify the severity of the issue. These are very probably out of order.

I got an iPod Touch for Christmas (~6-7), and every night I would watch porn on it until they caught on. I literally still remember some names of the sites, most that don't even exist anymore. My parents have always been amazingly caring. I couldn't ask for more. During the earlier ages (~6-8) I was put with a child therapist for fear of a deeper issue. My parents started either taking technology away in the night and/or setting restrictions on the internet. Unfortunately, between my slight tech-savvy, and my crazed addiction at this point, this wasn't a solution.

The addiction got DEEP. It warped my brain. When I had no technology, I used everything I could find.

Whenever I had access to less restricted internet, I used it. Once I asked my older cousin to use her iPod and watched it on there.(she noticed and told my mom. I remember my mom had asked me "Is there anything you need to tell me?", and I knew what she meant, but I just said "nope!" and walked away. At one point my dad's work provided him with a Blackberry, and I asked him could I play one of the built in little games. Once I had it, I watched porn. (when I gave it back to him he pressed the "back" button, and I was caught.)

I used Youtube. This was when YouTube was way less moderated (back when the app was a little old timey TV). I learned I could look up "striptease" and "nip-slip" and other stuff like that, finding more soft-core videos that could suffice when the internet in general was locked down.

I straight-up found out ways to disable the restrictions. Once I found out my mom's PIN for the controls, I went and disabled them, but changed the PIN so it would look like they were still on, and so that she couldn’t access and re-enable them. (I made it 7399. Spells "sexy". My mind was a mess.)

My parents bought a book called "The Classical Tradition". I'm just learning now as I'm looking it up that it was a Harvard Reference Library book (probably why it was so damn thick) about ancient Greek and Roman culture. I didn't know that. I had realized that sprinkled throughout the book there were pages that were more glossy than the rest, which you could see from the sides of the pages (the book was HUGE). These were the photo paper, which had the classical paintings and sculptures. And because these had nudity (Think "The Birth of Venus" type) I would regularly flip through this book when I needed a "fix". Absurd.

My parents got me an American Girl book that was made to ease worries about the developmental years. The pages on breast development / the anatomy of the vagina were what I looked at the most. When my parents had gotten me the child therapist, there was the logical fear that I might have been molested. The therapist gave me a book where there was a page with two cartoon mice, a boy and a girl. They were wearing swimwear/underwear and the point of that was "anywhere the clothing is covering is somewhere that adults can't touch you without telling.” They might as well have been stick figures, there was NO detail. But since they were in ‘underwear’ I'd always look at that page a lot. Anything barely vaguely sexual.

During this part of my life, I got no real pleasure out of this, I was just obsessed. For the first year I even watched it on mute out of fear of being caught. The lowest point during this period was when I very unfortunately filmed a video of me touching myself. I got nothing out of it and had no intent on ever sending or posting it. I was just emulating what I had been seeing. I deleted it the next day. I was 9 then.

From puberty until now (11-18) is when my sexuality was shaped by it. The addiction was far more controllable, I could spend a couple weeks to a couple months without it, but I'd always come back. Because it was now tied to my body. And while my need for it to be constant was gone, now I had to deal with the tolerance issue.

Over time what I watched became more and more depraved. I had the personal preference of hating anything amateur, because of the low quality, so I managed to avoid anything obviously non-consensual or involving visibly underaged girls, but that doesn't really mean much with the stuff the studios were putting out. During the middle points it got REALLY violent and disturbing. Bordering on torture (extreme kink) and even bodily deformation. As a young woman, I couldn't really tolerate any of the role based Kinks (father-daughter, babysitter, schoolgirl), so more extreme for me meant more extreme acts. Just absolute destruction of women's bodies for the purposes of sex. I moved away from that when tumblr banned porn and I started using reddit for it, and also during that time I was realizing how fucked up of an addiction that this was, even before I found feminism/anti-porn. I actively started trying to quit it, for good. But I always went back.

One big effect is heavy confusion with my sexual orientation. A lot of people face this, but the addition of porn for me really throws things off. Like: Am I bi, and a form of comphet/denial/inexperience keeps me from seeing women in a romantic way? Is it a mix of that and porn? (relatively likely) Or am I just straight, and the porn has completley shaped my mind (likely). 90% of the time I watched solo female content or lesbian content, and could only stand to watch certain specific forms if it included men at all. In real life I find a fair amount of men attractive but their bodies in a sexual sense are tolerable at best, but usually cringe inducing. l've never been attracted to a woman romantically, but exclusively women's bodies are sexual to me. It feels like everything in my brain that I would have been able to use in order to figure myself out has been permanently overwritten with incorrect information. Because of porn.

I've still got it bad. Every once in a while, I’ll read something vaguely sexual, or see a woman in a risque photo, and then the seed is planted. I'll always say "I'm not going to do it, I always feel disgusting after, it’s not even really enjoyable at this point, I can do better than this”. I always give in the end of the night. I'm 7 days off of it. I've been on this earth for 18 years. 12 of those years I've been cripplingly addicted to pornography. Two thirds of my life, and for as long as I can remember. I can never undo it. Just like an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic, only able to achieve remission, I will always be a porn addict. I have to be careful. But I have to hope for the future. And with finding the community that is speaking the truth about this, I'm heartened to do better. To no longer be held down by an addiction to consuming my own oppression.

#thank you for sharing #you’re not alone in this #I’m glad you escaped the addiction!#submission

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thebrochtuarachs · 5 years

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The latest “Are Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe Dating?” article is up and today, it’s from The Oprah Magazine! 😝

So I was looking for more details about Sam’s honorary degree and naturally, I searched his name in google and this is the first article that came up - and it coming from The Oprah Magazine kinda surprised me (cause I thought they’re more “journalistic” than this) but here we are. The way the article’s written is kinda funny, to be honest, with the writer adding some details that only, erm, “in the know”fans are aware of.

[Here’s the link to the article] - but I thought I’d post it below too cause details!! (Going to [comment] on my favorite parts! Super sorry in advance but this was too good to pass up!)

Are Outlander's Caitriona Balfe and Sam Heughan Dating?

Their chemistry is undeniable. By Samantha Vincenty

[Another day, another IS SAM AND CAIT DATING article which we all know how would end but let’s see if this one is different. And oh yes, Samantha Vincenty, their chemistry is UNDENIABLE!<3 ]

Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe's chemistry onscreen has sparked dating rumors since Outlander first premiered in 2014.

The two actors have long maintained that they're just "incredibly great friends."

Though Caitriona Balfe has confirmed her engagement, wedding details are scarce.

Outlander is chock full of action, suspense, and wild 18th century world history lessons. But the white-hot love scenes between Jamie Fraser (Sam Heughan) and Claire Randall Fraser (Caitriona Balfe) are one of the biggest reasons people are hooked on the Starz series, which is based on Diana Gabaldon's books. As any fan of the show knows in the rational part of their brain, Heughan and Balfe are simply gifted actors playing fictional characters, and it's their talent that makes their relationship so convincing on TV.

[Hehehehehe 😝]

However, one could be forgiven if their small screen chemistry and adorable real-life photos—such as this one—spark occasional thoughts like: "Wait—Are they dating, though?"

[The linked photo is Sam and Cait from BAFTA 2018 with the Audi - honestly, we got more “small screen chemistry and adorable real-life photos that are more “sparky” than that]

So, are Outlander's Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe Together in real life?

Despite their body language, flirtatious looks, and countless wishful Tumblr posts that would have us so ready to believe it, the Outlander stars are not a couple in real life. In fact, Caitriona Balfe is engaged—possibly even married.

[This writer has scoured through Tumblr and probably that’s what birthed this article. She must’ve seen the hundreds of posts from the 20 (ehem!) shippers around here and decided to give us a shoutout]

"We've always said from the get-go that we're incredibly great friends," Balfe told E! in a joint 2016 interview with Heughan. "We're not together, sorry to break people's hearts! But they like to try and, I don't know, maybe replicate the Claire and Jamie story. I think it would be difficult for us to work together and be together." (Heughan then jokingly chimed in with "we could try," just one of the many times he's done nothing to dispel the rumors and theories some imaginative fans still cling to.)

[”...Heughan then jokingly chimed in with "we could try," just one of the many times he's done nothing to dispel the rumors and theories some imaginative fans still cling to.” - omg, even this detail is IN, hahahaha! I mean this info is kinda “deep shipper” level findings and it found its way up! And of course, the fact that Sam has done things that “IMAGINATIVE” fans still cling too, ugh - HAHAHAHAHA! IMAGINATIVE - a more friendly term for “delusional” I guess - thanks for trying.]

Who is Caitriona Balfe's Fiance?

The Irish actress is engaged to longtime boyfriend Tony McGill, which she confirmed at the 2018 Golden Globes. (Balfe was nominated for Best Performance by an Actress in a Television Series–Drama, as she also was in 2016, 2017, and 2019.)

[No, she did not confirm at the 2018 Golden Globes - she announced it in People Magazine a few days BEFORE the Golden Globes. And she just wore a ring in the red carpet but HARDLY SAID ANYTHING in interviews (I mean did anyone even ask in the red carpet, I can’t remember?) in the GGs that “confirmed” she was engaged”]

"It happened over the break," Balfe told People. "I'm very happy."

The two have been together since at least 2015, as evidenced by this Instagram video of Balfe sitting on McGill's lap while she dazzles some friends with a tin whistle solo. (Playing the tin whistle in a pub might just be the most Irish thing...ever.)

[THEY POSTED DONAL’S IG VIDEO OF CAIT AND THE MAESTRO IN THE PUB WHERE SHE’S BLOWING A TIN WHISTLE as evidence. AND THE FACT THAT THEY FOUND IT, AGAIN, IS DEEP INVESTIGATION HAHAHA]

Tony McGill is, by most reports, a music producer—but it's a little confusing, since he's also been misidentified online as founding producer of the Australian caberet trio Combo Fiasco (FYI, that's a different Tony McGill).

[”...Tony McGill is, by most reports, a music producer—but it's a little confusing” - IM JUST GOING TO LEAVE THIS HERE]

"He's a very shy person and he doesn't like much talking about him," Balfe told host Ryan Tubridy on Ireland's The Late Late Show in February 2018, according to The Independent]. "I met him through one of my best friends, which I think is the best kind of introduction you can get."

Here's the couple one month after their engagement news broke, at an afterparty for the 2018 BAFTA Awards in London. Cute glasses, Tony.

[THEY POSTED THE LOVED UP PICS OF CAIT AND THE MAESTRO FROM 2018 BAFTA AWARDS LONDON and 2019 BAFTA PARTY LA]

In November of 2018, Balfe told Marie Claire that she and McGill will get married "as soon as I plan it." The deeply private couple has yet to confirm whether they've officially gotten hitched yet.

[Again, just going to leave this here...]

So Who Is Sam Heughan Dating, Then?

As a perusal of Heughan's social media accounts will tell you, the Scottish actor may be even more secretive about his love life than Caitriona and Tony are. He shares little-to-no evidence of a lady in his life. Since 2018, Heughan has been romantically linked to Irish actress Amy Shiels, who Twin Peaks: The Return fans may recognize as Candie, one of the Mitchum Brothers' identical cocktail-dress-clad assistants.

Shiel refers to Heughan as "big brother" in this April 2018 birthday greeting, which...you know...isn't super girlfriend-y.

[THEY POSTED AMY’S BIRTHDAY IG POST FOR SAM WHERE THEY’RE HOLDING A DOG. Hahahaha, “isn't super girlfriend-y.” is right on the money.]

Her attendance at various Heughan-related events, such as The Spy Who Dumped Me film premiere in July 2018, had fueled the rumors, as did this dubious US Weekly "confirmation" that cites "multiple sources."

Heughan also previously dated American actress and singer MacKenzie Mauzy from at least 2015 to 2017. The two met at an "industry event," he told Harper's Bazaar in October 2017, and Heughan revealed that their relationship made Mauzy the target of trolling on social media.

"Initially, it is upsetting but, ultimately, it doesn't mean anything. It feels like a schoolyard thing," Heughan said at the time. That's a valid and likely reason he keeps his love life so under wraps. So bottom line? Outlander fans who want to see Heughan and Balfe together forreal will just have to make do with the dozens of times they've flirted on-camera.

[Alrighty, then. 😊]

FIN

#outlander #caitriona balfe #sam heughan #sam x cait #samcait #sam cait #dating articles #the funniest and cringiest one ive seen #seems like a starz intern went to the Optah magazine

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sonicrainicorn · 5 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 17

<< Previous|Next >>

Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: The gang deals with the aftermath of Anxiety. Thomas has a hard time with some things

TW: Cursing, child abuse (mentioned), blood

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

The blade, and subsequently the hole in Anxiety’s stomach, turned a dark red. A deep red that could have passed for a human’s blood if something about it wasn’t off. Something made it unnatural to look at.

Anxiety didn’t react beyond a shocked expression. His body began to fizzle out. Like an old TV losing a station. Once he vanished, the shadows in the room curled back to their natural locations. The lighting (or lack thereof) returned to normal.

Virgil skipped out on the celebration to check on everyone. They were still stuck in their trance. He had an odd feeling that he needed to snap them out of it.

Since Thomas was the last one affected, Virgil figured he would be the easiest to fix. And there was absolutely no other reasoning to that. Nope. If anyone said otherwise he’d stab them in the eye with a sewing needle. Whatever the real reason, he ran over and kneeled down.

Tears streamed down Thomas’s face, and his eyes were a deep black. He kept begging for someone to not be dead. He sounded like a scared little boy.

Virgil ignored the pain that sent him and placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder to shake him. “Kid. C’mon, you have to snap out of it.” He swallowed his rising panic when that didn’t make an improvement. “Thomas!”

Thomas gasped and fell back, his arms coming out to catch himself. He blinked a few times and his eyes returned to normal, then they looked up at Virgil in surprise. “Virgil.” He reached out to touch him. “You’re real.”

“Welcome back.” He smiled a bit.

“It’s dark.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into Thomas’s hands. “Go get Patton and Logan. I’ll handle Roman.” He patted his shoulder then left to go to Roman.

Once Virgil could see him, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He looked lost. No tears streamed down his face. No pain etched onto his features. He was just… broken. That needed to stop. Virgil tried to put a hand on his shoulder as he did with Thomas, but a voice prevented him.

“Don’t touch him.” It was his dagger (which he decided to name Left. Because, well, y’know). Surprisingly, it took Picani’s voice. That was a new one.

Virgil retracted his hand. “What? Why?”

“Look.”

Virgil did so. He paid careful attention to see what Left did. Then it happened. Roman flinched. Like someone who expected a hand to fly their way. Alright, so no touching then. Wouldn’t want to open those cans of worms right now. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave Roman like this.

“You have a voice.”

Virgil frowned. He didn’t know what to do with that information. How was he supposed to only use his voice? It took him a minute to realize something.

Roman was adopted. It was something he revealed after one of his rare drunken splurges. Now, that exact fact wasn’t important, but what was important, was the distinguishing factors Roman made. When referring to the woman that birthed him, he always used “mother”. When referring to the woman that raised him, he used “mom” or “mamá”. And his mom would always sing to him to get him to calm down.

So, with minor embarrassment, Virgil realized he would have to sing if he wanted Roman’s attention. It was for a good cause, at least. He racked his brain for a gentle song and found that “Feed The Birds” was the single song that kept coming to mind. Hopefully, that would get the job done. He took a shaky breath and started in a soft voice,

Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul's The little old bird woman comes In her own special way to the people, she calls Come, buy my bags full of crumbs

He continued to keep his voice steady and low. The words dripped out in a sweet lull.

Soon, Roman came out of it. He became less stiff and the black in his eyes faded away and focused on Virgil. For a moment, they just stared at each other. “I knew you liked Mary Poppins,” Roman joked. Or rather, tried to. His voice sounded tired and his grin lacked his usual snark.

“Whatever,” Virgil grumbled as he stood up. “Want some help?”

Roman blinked at him. Then held out his hand to allow Virgil to pull him up without a word. They made their way over to the other three, who were trying to break Logan out of it. Patton had his hands around Logan’s wrists, easing them away from his hair.

“I don’t, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Logan cried. “I’m not a monster.”

“You’re not,” Patton assured. His voice was surprisingly calm. “You haven’t hurt anyone. We’re all here. We’re all fine.”

“But Arlene --”

“No. She’s not here. You’re with me, remember? She’s gone.”

Logan’s eyes shot open and shadows retracted from them. Once he processed where he was he darted up from the ground to turn away from them while wiping at his tears.

“The gang’s all here,” Virgil muttered. He tapped Left so he could put it back in his pocket. This wasn’t the best reunion in the world.

“I think we should go home,” Thomas said quietly. He stared at the floor with an intense frown.

“You’re absolutely right, Thomas.” Patton picked himself up. “We all just need to go home and relax and try to get our minds off what happened.” He seemed more cheery than he should have been.

“I don’t think anyone’s against it,” Roman mumbled.

Virgil grimaced a bit as he surveyed everyone. They were all jittery. Whatever Anxiety showed them -- the regrets, the fears -- wasn’t something they could walk off. Everyone still seemed to have their head in those moments.

“Then let’s leave.” Logan turned back around. His face was unusually stoic -- which was saying something.

No one had anything to comment.

The car ride back was eerily quiet. No one wanted to speak up. The tension might have also been increased by Patton a little bit, but that couldn’t be certain. They were all a little out of it. Virgil felt like he was the most put together at the moment, which didn’t sit right with him. That wasn’t the case under normal circumstances.

“Do you think,” Thomas broke the silence with stiff, uncertain words, “we could have a sleepover in the living room again?”

There was a beat of silence before Patton answered in a voice far too sweet, “Sure thing! That sounds like a good idea. What do you think, Logan?”

“Sure,” Logan murmured. He didn’t speak any further.

Upon arriving at the house, they all decided to get ready for bed. There weren’t any arguments or questions; they all wanted to end this night. When Virgil stepped out of his room, he saw Logan, Patton, and Thomas all sitting in the living room. But no Roman. Odd. Virgil tended to be the last one to these kinds of things. He decided to walk back into the hall.

Across from Virgil’s room was Roman’s. Without so much as knocking, Virgil pushed the door open. “Roman? Are you --” The rest of his words got caught in his throat.

Roman sat on the bed with one of his pajama pant legs rolled up. A long, faded scar ran across his leg, diagonal to his shin. It must have been from a cut many years ago. Once the shock of someone barging into his room passed, Roman pulled down his pant leg. “Jesus, Virgil, don’t you knock?”

“You never knock when you come into my room,” Virgil shot back defensively on complete impulse.

He sighed in annoyance. “Whatever. Just come in and close the door.”

Virgil did so. He didn’t know if he should sit down or not so he opted to stay where he was.

Roman moved his leg off the bed then gave Virgil a weird look. “You just gonna stand there or?”

“Uh,” Virgil shifted his footing, “you didn’t imply you wanted me to do anything.”

Roman rolled his eyes and scooted over. “Come over here, you awkward nightmare.”

Virgil sat on the bed and brought his legs up to sit criss-cross. He didn’t want to say anything first. He didn’t even know what to say. He was afraid he’d ask the wrong question or offend Roman somehow -- which is something he didn’t want to do right now. Not after tonight.

“Sorry for getting mad,” Roman muttered. “You have full permission to come into my room as long as I do it to you.”

“Glad to know we’re even, then.”

A swift silence washed over them.

“So are you gonna ask?”

Virgil forgot how to breathe for a second. “What?”

Roman didn’t look at him. “I know you want to know, but I won’t tell you unless you ask about it.”

“Uh.” Virgil hesitated. He did want to know, but he wasn’t sure if he was deserving of that information. The last time someone told him a secret he kind of forced it out of them. “Um, why -- how, uh, how did you get that?”

“It was a gift from my mother,” Roman seemed to choose his words with care. They fell out in a choppy rhythm rather than the usual steady stream he talked with. “I don’t remember much of it. Just that I was young and I learned not to make her mad.”

Mother. The woman that birthed him. He never said much about her other than he hated her and wished he had been separated from her sooner. Now Virgil could see why. That wasn’t something you did to a child.

“I’m sorry.”

Roman waved his hand. “It’s whatever. It happened a long time ago.”

But Anxiety made you see it.

He hopped off the bed. “Let’s go start our sleepover, shall we?” He grinned and held out an arm for Virgil.

Virgil decided not to fight it. Roman pushing away less than awesome feelings was a task to take up for another time. Right now, they all needed a breather. He took Roman’s arm and they set out to the living room.

Patton and Logan sat together on the couch. Much closer than they would have normally, Virgil noticed. Thomas had his legs pulled up onto the armchair with him, eyes studying the coffee table and his mouth in a tight frown. As they left the hall, Virgil flicked the light off and the living room flooded into darkness.

Thomas yelped. “Turn the light back on!”

The urgency in his voice caused Virgil to flip the switch without a second thought. He wasn’t sure how he managed to move so fast.

Thomas let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

The little boy who’s still afraid of the dark.

Virgil didn’t think that Anxiety meant that literally, but then again, he didn’t know how much of Anxiety’s words he could even trust. Despite that, he wondered what could make Thomas still afraid. Sure, everyone was afraid of the dark a little bit, but most people could stand a light switching off for the night. That was a serious phobia issue.

“I know a fun little thing we can do,” Roman’s voice stopped Virgil from delving any deeper into that topic. He crossed his legs onto the sofa cushion. Virgil decided to ignore the intrusion of personal space for now. “Just to calm us down before we sleep.”

“What is it?” Patton asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

“We could do ice breaker questions. Like favorite colors or whatever. It should be a decent distraction.”

“The minute I hear the words ‘ice breaker’ my anxiety goes through the roof and my soul leaves my body,” Virgil replied.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not being forced to meet anyone new.” Roman paused, eyes glancing toward Virgil for a moment. “You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to.”

Virgil’s brain needed a second to process Roman showing him kindness. It wasn’t often that he showed consideration like this. “I mean -- I don’t -- it’s whatever. You’re right. I’m not in a room with strangers or anything.”

“Why don’t you start, Roman?” Thomas asked.

“Okay, uh,” he thought about it. “If you had to describe yourself using a Disney princess, which one would you be?”

“Merida,” Virgil answered without hesitation.

Roman snorted. “Why Merida?” He sent him a grin.

Virgil pretended that he didn’t feel a swell of pride at getting a genuine smile out of Roman. “It’s obvious. I don’t need a man.”

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes.

“I think I’d be Vanellope,” Thomas answered.

“Why’s that?” Logan looked at Thomas curiously.

“Uh,” he struggled to form a proper sentence.

“Because she’s awesome,” Virgil swooped in. He had a feeling the real reason was because Vanellope was ‘the glitch’. A misunderstood character that everyone considered wrong before her reveal as the princess. “She has a lot of potential and determination. Also, she's a pretty big trouble maker. I think that describes Thomas pretty well."

Thomas sent him a small, grateful smile.

Logan still looked a bit suspicious but didn't ask any further questions.

"I'd be Ariel," Patton said, a wistful smile gracing his face for a brief moment. "And then Logan would be Elsa."

"What?" Logan looked at him incredulously. "What makes you think I'd be Elsa?"

Patton returned the look as if it was obvious. "Do I really need to explain that? Magic that’s kinda hard to control? Being forced to hide it away to save face?"

Logan considered it. "Alright, fine."

"What about you, Roman?" Virgil turned to him.

Roman blinked. "What? Me?" He glanced at everyone in uncertainty. "Uh…"

"Tiana," Thomas answered with no room for debate. "She's a hard worker and a dreamer like you are."

"Plus, she kisses a frog to break a curse because that's how it works in fairytales," Virgil added. "I get the feeling you'd do the same."

"Hey, if I got to marry a handsome prince because of it, I wouldn't complain." Roman smirked.

They continued to ask each other silly, easy questions like that. It turned out to be a pretty good distraction after all. They all asked at least one question -- some of which led to a few long discussions. Roman and Logan even had an argument at one point. Not an intense one, just one of those “why would you answer it that way, this way is obviously the best way to do it” arguments. It brought a sense of normalcy back into their night.

Soon, time started to catch up with them. Their conversations reached a gentle decline until they stopped altogether. It was already approaching one in the morning.

Virgil glanced around the room. Thomas, curled up on the armchair, was fast asleep. So was Roman with his legs in Virgil's lap. Logan appeared to be sleeping against Patton, who was still awake. He looked exhausted though. Unfortunately, Virgil wouldn't be able to let him sleep without one major question answered.

“Patton,” he whispered. He didn't want to wake anyone up. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I have a question.”

“What is it?”

He hesitated. “When that, uh, thing was messing with us, he kind of told me some… information. About an old friend of yours. Uh, Remy?” He took note of the way Patton tensed. “And I just, I kind of -- how did he die?”

Patton floundered for a minute. He seemed unsure of how to answer. Or perhaps he didn't want to.

“Killed in action,” came Logan's low voice.

“Hey, I thought you were sleeping.” He looked down at the sleepy nerd on his shoulder.

“I was getting there,” he sat up slowly, rubbing his eye, “but I heard a topic you might need help on.”

Patton gave him a sad smile.

“So were you even there when he died?”

“No,” he muttered.

Virgil frowned in thought.

“When we got the news, it was devastating.”

“We felt responsible somehow,” Logan continued. “If we could have done something more -- something different -- then maybe he could have made it. But, of course, there was nothing we could have done. It was out of our control.” He pushed his bangs out of his face. Without his glasses, he looked more open -- vulnerable.

“Sometimes, when you lose someone close to you, you feel like it's all your fault.” He coaxed Logan into laying back down. “And it isn't. But it's hard to accept it. Because you want to blame someone. Because they should still be there, but they're not, so what are you supposed to do without them?”

Virgil didn't respond for a moment. So Anxiety was lying. He knew Picani wasn't capable of that. Still, a little part of him continued to be wary. “Why doesn't Thomas know?”

They looked to the sleeping form on the armchair. Patton sighed. “Thomas was so afraid of everything. The dark, strangers, being alone. He never wanted anything to do with Remy because too many strangers in the past tried to take him away from us. By the time he came over these fears, Remy was… no longer available for meetups.”

“Why not tell him?”

“Why let him mourn for someone he never got the chance to meet?” He tried to give a smile, but it quickly fell into a frown. His eyes lingered on Thomas before turning them to Virgil. “Maybe one day, but certainly not right now.”

Virgil nodded.

Patton sighed again, this one more gentle than the heavy bearing ones before it. “You two should be getting some rest. It’s late.” He pulled Logan, who was already drifting back to sleep, closer to him.

“Yeah. Goodnight, guys.”

“G'night, Virgil.”

Virgil found himself in an awkward position because of Roman. He could have pushed his legs off to get into a better position, but that seemed a little cruel. So instead he opted to inconvenience himself. He shifted to be in the crook of the couch. It wasn't the most comfortable place but he'd live. He leaned his head back and put an arm over his eyes. Already, he began to feel sleep weigh on him.

After a few minutes of silence, Virgil heard Logan's groggy voice mumble, “You need sleep too.”

“Of course,” Patton answered, voice gentle, “I'll just be up for a bit.”

“M'not goin’ anywhere.”

“I-I know. I just, I just want to be sure.”

“If that'll make you feel better.”

“Yes. Now go to sleep, Lo.”

~~~

Thomas woke up at five in the morning. He only knew because the clock mocked him; it faced him with its dumb glowing numbers. How dare it. He could have been sleeping more. Instead, he uncurled himself from the armchair. His joints popped and a tingly feeling shot up from his toes. Maybe staying in one position the whole night wasn't the best way to sleep.

He took note of the rest of the people in the room with him. Lucky for them, they got to stay sleeping. Patton stretched against the length of the sofa with Logan on his chest and his arms wrapped around him protectively. Patton's glasses were pushed against the top of his head. How they managed to get themselves into that position was beyond him. Roman and Virgil's legs were tangled together. Somehow, Roman had Virgil's hoodie draped over him like a blanket even though Thomas was pretty sure Virgil didn't take it off. It was cute, though.

Sending a final glare at the clock, Thomas picked himself up and headed toward the bathroom. He didn't bother shutting the door. Everyone else was still asleep so it wasn't as if they would intrude.

He placed his hands on the counter and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back at him with tired eyes. For the first time ever, he became all too aware of the long life he's lived. Ninety-four years didn't feel like anything. In the blink of an eye, he was ninety-four. It didn't feel any different than eighty or thirty. He hardly aged during those times. Maybe faster than he should have been, but still not much at all. So the eyes that stared back at him looked as old as they were rather than as young as they looked.

There was so much that they’d seen. Too much, some might say.

He frowned.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he stayed with his family. If he and Picani hadn’t been forced to leave, how could have things played out? Would his parents be proud of him? What about his brothers? Would they grow up to be amazing in every way -- would they be masters in their magic types? What would they think of Thomas? Would they look down on him for still not having magic? Would they even care?

He liked to think they were out there somewhere looking for him. He wanted to think it -- needed to. If they were gone… he didn’t even want to consider it. It was his fault. There wasn’t any other way of saying it. It was all his fault. Everything.

Way back when he was five years old, he made the first of many grave mistakes. He told Terrance that magic was real -- showed him proof. And Terrance went off to tell everyone he knew in his excitement. They were just kids. They didn’t know that anything bad would happen. In a perfect world, nothing would have happened. People would have brushed off Terrance’s words as the imagination of a child. Except that wasn't how it went down.

Someone heard about it who shouldn't have. Then they told Altair.

From what Thomas remembers, people broke into the house. There was a lot of commotion. His mother took him away from his brothers and handed him over to Picani. She told them to run. He didn’t know what was happening. There was so much noise. He never got to give a proper goodbye, but they were far away by the time that he realized it. It wasn't until Picani explained things later that Thomas found out it was his fault. No one was supposed to know where his family was. No one should have known they had magic.

Thomas didn't know how Picani couldn't hate him after that. He could have left him somewhere at any point and been done with it. He could have handed him over to one of his parents' friends. But he didn't. He decided to stay. No matter how many times Thomas messed up or hurt him, he always stayed. He always came back. And Thomas couldn't understand that.

He was such a problem -- he caused so many problems. Last night showed him how much trouble he really was. He was faced with every horrible decision he ever made. There were quite a few. He had to watch himself tell Terrance about magic all over again. He felt Picani’s blood on his hands. He caused so much pain. He’s said so many things he didn’t mean, and did so much he couldn’t take back.

“Oh gosh,” Thomas muttered. He wiped his face as tears started to fall. Another thing that was common in the incidents he saw was how much he cried. "I'm such a baby." He needed to stop crying so much.

"Thomas?"

Thomas froze. He saw Logan squinting at him from the mirror. Whether it was from sleepiness or lack of glasses was debatable.

"What are you doing up?"

"I-I, uh," he hurried to wipe his eyes, "what are you doing up?"

"I wanted to get water, but then I saw you in here." He stepped into the room. "Are you okay?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

"Ugh, feelings." Logan leaned against the wall. He could still be seen in the reflection of the mirror.

Thomas couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I know. They're pretty bad sometimes."

"Tell me about it." He paused. "If Patton heard us talking like that we'd probably get a whole lecture saying the opposite."

There was no argument there. "Speaking of Patton, how'd you get out of the death grip he had on you?"

"Very carefully."

Thomas snorted. "That was such a teacher answer."

"I wouldn't know."

"You went to college."

"That's hardly the same thing."

Perhaps not. Thomas wouldn't know. He's never been -- not yet at least. Still, he couldn't let go of a thought he had. In truth, it had been plaguing him since last night. "Logan, have you ever…" He didn't know how to word it without raising any alarms.

"Ever what?" Logan's brows knitted together.

There wasn’t an easy way to say it. “Why have you and Patton stayed with me so long?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sighed, “why didn’t you ever give me up? You had plenty of opportunities to.”

“Why would we ever want to give you up?” Logan seemed genuinely confused by the question. “What reasoning would we have for that?”

Thomas found himself getting frustrated. Not at Logan or at himself or even at anything, really. It built up inside of him because it needed to. Because he spent so long being told that he was a mistake except by the one person who had every right to. “I’m the reason we’re even here right now. I’m the reason we had to run away -- I’m the reason you lost your magic.” He buried his face in his hands. “I cause a lot of bad things to happen.”

“Well, let’s get at least one of those things straight.” He pushed himself off the wall to join Thomas at the sink. “You didn’t make me lose my magic. I made a brash decision that came with undesirable consequences, that wasn’t any of your doing. We were supposed to get you and then leave, but what happened wasn’t because of you. It was something that happened all on its own -- spurred by a decision that I made. It had nothing to do with you.

“I can’t say that you’re not partially responsible for us having to run, but it isn’t your fault. You were only a child, Thomas, you had no idea that anything would have happened. As far as you knew, you were just telling your friend about your family. Neither of you explicitly told anyone to come after us. It was a rather unfortunate series of events. The wrong thing said at the wrong time. There was no way to predict anything would happen.”

Thomas frowned. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” He gave him a tiny smile. “Stopping at every crack in the road isn't going to get you where you need to be. Things happen whether we want them to or not, but no matter what you think you’ve done, you’ll always be our favorite person in the whole wide world.”

Oh gosh. Now Thomas was going to cry for a different reason. That’s something Picani would always say to him when he was younger. “Thanks.”

Logan’s smile widened for a fraction of a second before returning to a more subtle one. “We should get back. All hell might break loose if Patton wakes up and sees that we’re gone.”

Thomas didn’t doubt that.

(Next)

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #blood tw #child abuse tw #logicality #platonic prinxiety #coinverse

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occasionalfics · 6 years

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Warrior, ii (Thor x Reader)

part i

Summary: Your story is simple, your intentions always good. Odin could not see that, though, and that was your downfall.

A/N: Like I said in the note from last time, I’m taking A LOT of liberties with details. Like I have no idea how long Asgardians actually live, but it was fun to just make that particular part up as I went along!

Tags: @oknstark @httpmcrvel (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Words: 3,085

~~~

200 years ago, you were exiled from Asgard. The last familiar face you saw was Heimdall’s; his golden eyes were lined with insurmountable sadness as he did Odin’s bidding. He opened the Bifrost and sent you tumbling through space. But, you reminded yourself countless times over the last two centuries, it wasn’t his fault. Heimdall had been a friend.

He had a job to do, that was all.

You were left on Midgard with no way to communicate with Asgard. Heimdall had been ordered to ignore your desperate calls for him, as he was whenever someone was exiled. And to his credit, he did his job well. He’d at least placed you in a field not far from a small Norwegian village. The people that found you, as well as people in the larger cities no longer idolized Odin and Asgard, but at least had some reference from whence you came.

If you ever saw Heimdall again, you would thank him for the ease of your transition into exile. He had to know the the witch trials that had swept Europe only a century and a half before had very little effect on your sudden arrival.

After two weeks on Midgard, you stopped calling for him. You knew you would never see your home again. You would never walk among the golden palace halls, nor bathe in the natural healing springs, train with Lady Sif again, or aid Frigga in decorating the Great Hall for festivals and celebrations. But those were all miniscule when you thought of the two things you loved the most and had lost: Fighting for Asgard, and its Prince.

It would be over 100 years before you could even enlist in any form of military, and by then, you weren’t sure that was the best idea. During the Great War, the Patriarchal systems in place only allowed you to go to war as a nurse. But you’d never been particularly skilled in healing; you were a Warrior of Asgard. Or, at least, you had been.

An advantage of being Asgardian - and therefore ageless, though not immortal - was that you had time to learn. Midgardians didn’t live nearly as long as you did, but they had many things to show you, many inventions to create and share with the world. Over time, you learned to adapt with them and move beyond them, which made it easy for you to settle for a decade in one place doing one trade, then pick up and move to another place to start over again. You’d been a cobbler, a successful harpist in more than one renowned orchestra, what Americans referred to as a lumberjack, a tea trader, a carnival performer (as you were rather good at swallowing your own sword, which Odin had allowed you to keep in your exile - or, perhaps, he had simply not noticed it when he had banished you), a school teacher, and a movie projection operator, among other mindless jobs.

You’d just moved to a quiet town near the Mississippi River, a town with less than 5,000 residents, where each house had plentiful space between it and the next one, when you heard of the Avengers, though they were not a team yet. News of the Iron Man had spread not long before, then the scientist with Gamma radiation poisoning. You’d taken up clockwork when word of Captain America returning came. You’d sold a gorgeous Grandfather with mechanical squirrels that acted chipping away at a tree trunk whenever the hour changed when someone had mentioned that a God had fallen out of the sky in New Mexico.

Your heart did not stop then. There were no specific details about the God, other than he was larger than life (then again, so were you, if you were judging by Midgardian standards) and he’d broken into a government building to retrieve something that he claimed belong to him. It meant very little to you. Midgardians, you’d realized, loved a good alien story. Orson Welles had proved that much in 1938, though this God sounded less like an alien invasion and more like a drunkard with some form of brain damage.

But then, less than two years later, he appeared on television - this time, your heart did stop. The second you saw him throwing Mjølnir at a Chitauri troop, you fell to your knees. You reached for the TV screen, threw your head back, and called for Heimdall for the first time in over a century.

You received no response, except for a small tingling in the back of your neck. It was the kind of feeling you got whenever you knew an answer before a question was posed, when you could accurately predict the way a conversation might go. It was an affirmation. Heimdall had not given up on you, you decided, and he was confirming that, on the screen before you, was the reason you were in exile.

Your beginnings on Asgard were humble. Your father was a magician; he could alter what a small group of people saw. He made his living entertaining Odin and Frigga and their guests in the palace, during the festivals and celebrations you loved as a child. Your mother was a Lady-in-waiting to the Queen who’d chosen to marry below her station for love.

Because of that, Odin always saw your affection for his son as ambitious. He thought you meant to rise above your station through advantageous marriage, to use Thor for his position in life, rather than to respect his heart as he respected yours.

Starting there, however, you’d be getting ahead of yourself.

You spent most of your life in the palace. You had the privilege of your parents’ employment, which allowed you to be educated among the best and brightest of Asgard - including both Thor and Loki. When you weren’t studying history and mathematics, you were play fighting with your childhood friends - Lady Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg included - learning to be the warrior you would one day become.

Your affections for Thor started simply, too. His life was full of physical activity, which shaped his body wondrously as you aged. He was witty, a natural leader, and reckless. He had a temper that both terrified you and excited something dark in you. He was unpredictable and suave, or at least he fancied himself that way. As a member of his close circle, you knew he was also pensive when he needed to be, stubborn when he didn’t, and hardheaded. It was nearly impossible to convince him of something when his mind was made up. He was everything you imagined loving until the end of time itself.

He and Sif convinced Odin to allow you to train with your friends, rather than as a troop among the rest of the army. You didn’t think Odin liked that much, but you pretended not to care. As long as you had your friends and your sword, you felt that you could do anything.

Years passed with you fighting at your friends’ sides, bringing Glory to Asgard, and pining for the one man you’d most likely never have. Your mother was planning the winter solstice festival, to which it was custom for couples to attend together. Your feelings for Thor had rooted deep within your being; you followed him like a small animal to its master. There was no one that could compare, but you were sure your feelings were not reciprocated.

Odin had made it clear that Thor was intended for Lady Sif, and it was just as well. She was of noble birth, already situated high in both station and military rank. She was a fierce warrior and your best friend, and you refused to see her as competition for the affections of a man who would, clearly, end up with her anyway. She knew of your feelings and offered apologies often for the complications of your friendship, which at least allowed you to sleep at night.

But Thor asked you to the Winter Solstice festival. He should’ve asked Sif, for they were to be wed not long after, but he didn’t.

Lady Sif is my friend and companion in battle, but that is all he said to your surprised expression at his offer.

But your father… you said, shaking your head. If Odin knew Thor wanted to court you instead of Lady Sif, he’d banish you from the palace, without a doubt.

My father knows nothing of me if he believes I’ll bend to his will he said.

You looked into his lively, wonderful eyes, the bluest ones you’d ever seen. He stared at you with depth and devotion in his gaze, though you weren’t sure what to do with those feelings.

Odin will never allow this, Thor. I am sorry, truly, but I cannot accept-

His fingers brushed yours gently. He’d always been soft with you, always putting on a show of aggressive masculinity when, in reality, his touches were reserved and delicate. If you can tell me that you are rejecting my offer because you do not want me, I will respect your wishes. If, however, you are only declining because of my father, I will only persist.

You knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth. You wanted so badly to accept him, to accompany him to the festival, to see if something came of it afterwards as well. You could see your future in his eyes, where you were cared for, fought beside him on the battlefield and tended to his wounds after with care and love. You saw your children running freely, happily, chasing dreams and stars alike - it didn’t matter whether or not they were royal, but that they were happy.

But none of that would happen if Odin had anything to say about it, and you knew that he did. You felt your eyes fill with tears as you decided to tell him I am sorry, but I do not want you. It was for his good, and for yours. It would save you heartbreak when Odin refused to allow your wedding to commence, or when he refused to accept your children as legitimate heirs to the throne - something that would certainly shake Thor to his core, if it ever came to fruition.

He stared at you for too long, watched as you lost control of the tears falling from your eyes. But then, after a bit, he removed his hand from yours and nodded slowly. I see he said, his voice hoarse with pain. Thank you, (Y/N), for being so frank with me.

Thor and Sif arrived at the festival together, her arm over his, as was custom. But soon after, they separated and kept a friendly distance between them. They laughed and you watched, wondering how he could be so happy when you were so miserable.

Volstagg never strayed far from you - he was the largest of your friends, and had taken it upon himself to protect you if he thought you should need protection. You appreciated him, smiled whenever he told a funny joke, and pretended to listen whenever he told a story you’d already heard or had actively participated in creating.

Odin looked at you as he stood on a dias and announced his son’s betrothal to Sif that night. You nodded and looked at the ground near his feet as the crowd around you roard and cheered. You didn’t know if he’d planned this all along, or if he’d simply seen an opportunity and taken it, but his stare broke your heart. It was the stare of a man getting his way, shoving the rabble out of his house, denying the reality of your feelings for the sake of his kingdom...the kingdom you were sworn go serve. This pairing of two friends who hardly looked comfortable together as a romantic couple in a public setting would follow you to the grave. It was something Odin would always use to remind you of your place in Asgardian life.

One evening a few days later, you were waiting for Sif in her chambers. You were meant to accompany her to a betrothal ceremony in the morning, your only comfort being that Sif was still your friend above everything else. But she was late returning from a meeting, and you began to worry. You paced the room, focusing on a line between pillars by her doors, and you jumped when they flew open toward you.

(Y/N)! Come with me! she said, her face flushed, eyes and hair wild, mouth stretched into a ridiculous smile. She grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, across the palace grounds, and into a dark courtyard, far from the watchful eye of Odin.

What’s happening, Sif? you asked. She hushed you, then pushed you into the center of the courtyard, dropped your arm, and turned to run. You went to follow her, but heard a crash of thunder behind you. When you turned he was standing so close, you could feel the heat on his skin. What is the meaning of this, my prince? you asked, curtseying.

I had to see you he said.

You looked up at him, folded your hands together in front of you, and tried to focus on his expression. In the dark, he was difficult to make out.

My Prince, this is not appropriate. You are betrothed to my friend-

I am well aware of the situation he said. I care not.

I do not understand you said.

Sif and I do not love one another he said. I will not marry her, nor will I deny her or myself the ability to choose our own destinies.

You knew not what to say. He stepped closer to you, took your hands in his, and kept his shining eyes on yours.

I love you. I don’t want to be with Sif; I want to be with you.

You told me you would leave the subject alone if I did not want you you said, tearing your gaze from his as you thought of Odin’s golden eyepatch that put a cool exterior on his metallic wrath.

Sif says you love me, too, and she is not in the business of lying or exaggerating to either of us.

Even Gods make mistakes you said, knowing that Sif was not a God, but hoping he would drop the subject all the same.

He did not let go of your hands, and you could not force yourself pull them from him, though his touch was light. You stayed like that for too long, staring at the ground because looking at Thor meant facing the heartbreak you were inflicting on him. It meant succumbing to Odin’s will, to walking away from the man you loved and had grown with. It meant watching as he married someone he did not love and did not love him. It meant fighting beside him all the same, never being able to move past these feelings, staring at one another without ever being able to do anything about it.

I cannot tell if you are more scared of your own heart or of my father he whispered. You heard the strain on his voice, the sadness that filled him the longer you kept your gaze away.

I am not scared for myself you told him, slowly lifting your face to look upon his again. I cannot betray Asgard, or the Allfather. My feelings are irrelevant.

He shook his head violently, his golden hair sweeping across his face. No he said. He is not Asgard. We all are. Denying yourself happiness, neglecting the wishes of your heart, that is betraying Asgard. Just...say what we both know. We will deal with the rest later.

But I am no one you said.

That is the boldest lie I’ve ever been told he responded, his face softening. He let one tear streak across his face, and did not even raise a hand to wipe it away. You are just as much a person as I am. Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun - you and Sif - we are all the same. And it does not matter - I care don’t where you come from, not like my father does. I just want to know that you love me as I do you. Nothing else compares.

You wished he had not said such things, but you did not say so. Your resolve had dissipated, and you were left with nothing but a warm feeling deep inside that pushed you to say I do. I love you, so...so much. You waited for the “but” to come. It never did. With Thor’s assurances, you felt more steady in your truth than ever before. Odin’s threatening glares meant nothing when Thor looked at you as if you were the only star in the night sky. You feared nothing at all as he leaned forward.

May I kiss you? he asked.

You nodded approval, and then he closed the space between you. He brought your hands to his shoulders, then his went to your waist. Even through the heavy dress you wore, you could feel the heat and electricity in his fingers. It was magnificent.

You did not return to Lady Sif’s chambers that night. You snuck away, laughing all the while, your hand in Thor’s, to his quarters, and aided in breaking all the promises he’d ever made to his father about duty and honor.

The next morning, Thor confronted Odin. You accompanied him, and you suffered long stares full of rage and heat from the Allfather. Sif was called forward and readily gave her consent to end the engagement between herself and Thor. By custom more than empathy, Odin allowed it.

But in the middle of that night, after Thor had fallen asleep, a shadow crept through the window and bound you so quickly, you hadn’t had a chance to make a sound or defend yourself. The shadow carried you to Heimdall, and there took the shape of Odin in all his glory.

Insolent girl! I told you I would never allow this tryst to thrive. I hereby exile you from Asgard, from your home and family, on the grounds of treason.

You shook your head and tried to plead for your life, for the life of his son, and for the love you bore him. Odin heard none of it, and you were sent to Midgard with the assurance of never returning.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #all the angst!

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walduissymavelleyq94insuran-blog · 5 years

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TV's writers' rooms have a mother of a problem

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/tvs-writers-rooms-have-a-mother-of-a-problem/

TV's writers' rooms have a mother of a problem

(CNN)This is part one of a two-part series. You can read part two here.

It was April, she was spending 10 to 12 hours a day working on a production for a comedy pilot, and the baby she was carrying was due in the first week of May.

“I was real knocked up,” she says, with the kind of comedic edge to her voice that implies she’s someone who knows how to deliver a perfectly timed punchline.

When she interviewed for the job, she wore an oversized dress that covered the fact that her body was in the process of growing another human being.

On her first day on set, this came as news to her boss, whose annoyance, unlike the writer’s bump, couldn’t be concealed.

“You didn’t tell us you were pregnant,” she says her female boss told her.

“Did I have to?” she asked defiantly.

If they had asked during her interview, and used that information in a decision to not hire her, it would have been illegal.

“Uh, I guess it’s fine,” the woman said.

From then on, anytime she was condescendingly told that she could go home for the day because production was dragging, she declined — out of determination to make a point to them and, on some level, prove to herself that she could be 40 weeks pregnant and keep up with the grind. And she did.

“I was always trying extra, extra hard beyond my exhaustion to prove that I could be pregnant and I could do this,” she recalls.

The culture and patterns of behavior that make it difficult — and, at times, downright humiliating — to be an expectant, new and working mother are not unique to the entertainment industry. Women everywhere face challenges in their quest to concurrently pursue professional paths and grow their families.

But as Hollywood continues to find its way through its reckoning with sexual harassment and gender discrimination, some female television writers who are mothers feel struggles they contend with have gotten lost in the conversation.

In interviews with CNN, multiple female television writers with children or expecting children shared stories of how they felt the need to hide their pregnancies to get a job, ostracized while nursing or felt they lost opportunities.All this is happening in a field already filled with tight deadlines, long hours and immense pressure. Those who asked to remain anonymous did so because of concerns it may negatively affect their career prospects.

At a time in the industry when women are still fighting for an equal number of seats at the writers’ room table, the additional obstacles facing those who choose to be mothers are only making it harder for women as a whole to tell their stories on screen.

They know they are not alone in their experiences and hope their calls for change leads to a better reality for all women.

A seat at the table

In order to get hired for a TV show, writers go through a staffing process that includes having an in-person meeting with a showrunner, the men or women who steer the production of a series and have final say on major storyline decisions. Landing that meeting is a struggle in and of itself for the majority of female writers. The most recent stats from Writer’s Guild of America (WGA), the union that represents 20,000 film and TV writers, states that women make up just 29% of television writers.

Once in the room with a chance to get a job, women with or expecting children face a choice about how much to disclose to potential employers, because they feel their answer could count against them.

“I know so many women that go into interviews and take off their wedding rings and purposefully do not talk about children,” one upper-level writer of nearly 20 years experience in the industry tells CNN. “If you’re pregnant, you bundle up with multiple layers so no one can tell you’re pregnant.”

When and how to disclose your pregnancy to an employer is a decision unique to every woman in any industry and extends to women at all levels of their career.

Liz Tigelaar, the former showrunner for “Casual” who will soon be heading up Hulu’s adaptation of the novel “Little Fires Everywhere,” was in the very early stages of pregnancy when she went out for her job with the streaming service. She too struggled with her decision on how to broach the topic of her pregnancy. “I didn’t want to not disclose I was pregnant,” she says. “But at the same time, I was so early-pregnant that I didn’t know if it was going to kind of stick, and I didn’t want to obviously not get the job because I was pregnant. There was kind of a lot of angst with that, I guess.”

“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” co-creator Aline Brosh McKenna has seen this distress extend to members of production, too.

“Just yesterday I had somebody come and tell me that she’s pregnant and we talked about how to make that work with her work responsibilities, and she was very emotional because she assumed that she would be fired — and that would never, ever happen,” she says. “This show as a whole is very sympathetic to what mothers have to deal with.”

Federal law prohibits employers from basing hiring decisions on whether a prospective employee has children or is expecting a child. But there are ways those looking to hire TV writers find out more about writers’ personal lives— like asking instead, “What is your child care situation?” one writer says.

“What they really want to hear is, ‘I don’t have kids,'” the upper-level writer who asked to remain anonymous says. “But the second thing they want to hear is I have full-time child care coverage so that they can work as long as they want.”

Even in cases where having kids would be beneficial to the show itself — if the series was centered on a family, for example — being a parent isn’t always considered a positive.

The comedy writer recalls thinking it’d be safe to mention she was a mom of two in her interview with a male showrunner who was looking to staff a comedy series about a family. As their conversation went on, her children became a punchline.

“At least five times during the meeting he made jokes about ‘you and all your kids,'” she remembers. “I know that it would never be appropriate to ask, but I think part of the reason I wasn’t hired was because I was a mom. Because it kept coming up in the meeting as a joke, and the joke was, ‘You won’t be able to handle this because you have too many kids.'”

If asked to join the show, writers commit to a contract to work for a given number of weeks, the length of which depends on the length of the season itself.

The temporary nature of the work means if a woman who just had a baby wants to take unpaid parentalleave for, say, the eight weeks guaranteed to them by the agreement signed between the WGA and studios last year, they could miss work on nearly half of a show’s season if the writers’ room was scheduled to be operating for 20 weeks, roughly the average length for a limited series.

Many of the women CNN spoke with understand that for a hiring showrunner, the prospect of losing one of the roughly dozen people that make up an average show writing team means one less creative brain working on stories.

But, they add, that doesn’t make the discrimination right.

“The very nature of [our work] makes it very hard to accommodate people sort of not being there for large chunks of time,” says one mid-level writer who’s worked for broadcast, cable and new media dramas. “But, also, like, that’s called life. How are we going to repopulate the earth?”

‘Am I going to get paid?’

In 2017, the WGA inked a new deal with Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP), that provided protections for those who wish to take parental leave for the first time. The guild’s parental leave policy, which extends to men and women, essentially states that a person cannot be fired for taking eight weeks to be with a new biological, foster or adopted child. The WGA’s thinking was that fighting for a broader policy — one that extended to all parents — was that it would benefit even those who do not physically give birth.

The agreement between WGA and the body representing studios sets a baseline for the benefits and rights extended to TV writers. The decision whether or not to extend any additional benefits ultimately lies with the studio.

Some women do receive paid maternity leave from studios. Others do not.

One solution to this inconsistent approach to maternity leave would be for studios to extend their internal maternity leave policies — the ones that give benefits to full-time employees of the studio — to the women who help write the shows that keep their business running.

“The execs, they get great maternity and paternity leave. Nobody’s like, ‘Am I going to get paid? Are they going to take my money?” says one TV writer. “But I mean, I think it’s representative of like the rest of America, where the people who actually make things and do things are not the people who own the things and they don’t make as much money and they’re not as valued and they don’t have as much leverage or say.”

There are some concerns, of course, that such an agreement could spur more discrimination against hiring pregnant women or women of child-bearing age.

WGA’s current agreement with AMPTP expires at the end of April 2020, but individual studios — or all of them — could improve maternity leave policies for television writers at any time. Writers can also negotiate better terms and conditions into their contracts.

“We’d sign that yesterday,” Kathy Christovich, assistant general counsel for WGA-West, tells CNN in reference to a paid leave policy.

AMPTP spokesperson Jarryd Gonzales told CNN in a statement: “When we negotiate a collective bargaining agreement, we take into consideration the proposals and the costs associated with them, and during the last round of negotiations, the WGA had greater priorities it wanted to address than paid parental leave.”

‘The way it is

To avoid having to be absent from their jobs — and without paychecks — for any length of time, some female writers attempt to time pregnancy so they can deliver between writing seasons. The children born during that time are often lovingly referred to as “hiatus babies.”

Those who deliver in-season or while on staff face pressure to return quickly — sometimes from bosses, sometimes out of fear of being penalized down the line, several women said.

“I think it’s the fear of, ‘Will I be known as that woman that took a bunch of time off to have her kid?'” one mid-level writer working on a cable show tells CNN. “I think it’s so hard to be a woman in this industry that you don’t want — as harsh as [it] sounds — that reputation of not being able to fulfill your job duties.”

The writer says she once had a pregnant female showrunner return to work just two or three weeks after she delivered her baby. “It’s just the way it is, you know?” she says.

TV writers’ rooms operate something like submarines, units that are cut off from the outside world for ten hours a day and only emerge occasionally from the waters of creativity. In some cases, even cell phones are prohibited in the room. When you leave the room, it’s understood that the conversation and brainstorming will continue without you and it’s on you to catch up. It’s also very obvious when someone leaves the room.

The work environment presents a number of challenges to expecting and new mothers in particular, who have to find time for numerous medical appointments and, if they are choosing to breast feed once their baby has arrived, breaks to pump.

Four women described being in writers’ rooms where jokes or pointed comments about perceived excessive time out of the writers’ room were made at a mother’s expense, either directly to her or when she was not present.

Former “NCIS: New Orleans” showrunner Brad Kern was removed from his post and demoted to consulting producer after comments he made about a mother’s nursing — and his overall conduct in the writers’ room — became the subject of HR investigations at CBS.

CNN spoke with two sources close to the show who confirmed reports that Kern allegedly made crude comments about a nursing mother — including asking her if pumping breast milk was like milking a cow — and targeted bullying, harassing and retaliatory behavior toward working mothers.

“Why would any company want to employ someone who’s been exposed for being abusive to women?” one of the sources said. “When you align yourself with a person like that, you give other men the green light to continue their misogyny and abuse. For female employees who complain and for those who suffer in silence, this sends a very clear message that there will be no justice. This paves the way for even more workplace harassment.”

“The 2016 allegations concerning Mr. Kern were acted upon immediately with a thorough investigation and subsequent disciplinary action to address behavior and management issues,” CBS said in a statement to the Hollywood Reporter in June.

The company hired outside counsel to conduct a third investigation.

CBS’s handling of the situation drew criticism upon news that the studio renewed his overall deal with the company for two years, amid the new investigation.

Kern tells CNN in a statement that the review being conducted by independent counsel is being “undertaken to ensure that prior investigations by CBS were comprehensive and thorough.”

“I am confident they were,” he says. “Beyond that, it would be inappropriate for me to address specific allegations while an independent review is ongoing.”

Kern is currently suspended, as the independent investigation is ongoing.

His case was mentioned in a recent report in the New Yorker that touched on CBS’s alleged pattern of inconsistent enforcement of its HR policies.

One writer says the “absolute power” given to showrunners is also part of the problem. So much of how employees are treated — and, by extension, how working parents are treated — is dependent on the tone set by the showrunners.

“I think I have been very lucky, but I think even that speaks to one of the problems, which is whether you are able to live your life or not, shouldn’t be dependent on which show you happen to end up on,” says a writer, who did not work with Kern. “It’s problematic that the quality of your life [is] so completely in the balance of someone else’s hands”

Adds another writer: “I guarantee that at every studio you’ll find some shows that have the Shonda Rhimes model…where people can work reasonable hours and bring their children in to have play dates, and down the hall, you’ll find a showrunner that works writers 12 hours a day without breaks.”

A person connected to the “NCIS” franchise recalls late showrunner Gary Glasberg being very “supportive of family culture” on set. At Christmas, he’d throw a lunch on set with shrimp and lobster and encourage families to attend. Santa Claus would even make a cameo.

Glasberg, also the showrunner of the mothership series, briefly steered the ship at “NCIS: New Orleans” after one showrunner’s departure.

The culture on that set shifted when Kern took over, the source says.

In the two years that Kern was in place, the source estimates about a dozen writers and editors either departed the show or were fired.

“These companies are completely empowering their showrunners and they’re getting absolutely no oversight,” the source says. “There’s no reason that the supportive environment shouldn’t have continued.”

Brosh McKenna is hopeful that discussions about misbehavior will lead to action.

“Hollywood has generally not done a great job of controlling a**holes,” she says, not referring to any person specifically. “I think [that’s] something that the whole business is trying to deal with. I hope that all the publicity about it has been causing some people to really examine their behavior.”

In part two, female showrunners who are leading by example and how better treatment of writers who are moms could positively affect what we see on screen.