#should i add a trigger warning for personal emotional bullshit?

[pikahlua]

What do u think Katsuki was thinking/ rationalizing when he suicide baited Izuku in the 1st chapter?

He didn't see his behavior towards Izuku pre knowing about OFA as bullying... But this should have been a line he knew not to cross right?

I seriously debated whether or not I should answer this question.

There is so much baggage for me to unpack because of the way it’s worded.

I’m not convinced this question was asked in (completely) good faith. It feels like the questioner may have determined this is a hard binary situation and is only concerned with which side of the binary I come down on.

This is a topic that has been discussed in excess by the fandom. Could I really have anything new to add to the discussion?

But you know what?

I do have something to say.

(Warning: Light manga spoilers near the end of this piece.)

(TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains discussion of suicide-related themes. If you find this topic uncomfortable, please exercise discretion before reading. If you are having suicidal thoughts, there are resources to help you.  You may not know how to ask for help, and that’s okay. You don’t have to do it perfectly or on command, but please try to reach out however you can.)

I’m going to rearrange the question a bit and word some things differently just so that everything can be crystal clear. As a result, dear anon, please do not take my answers as directed at you. These are generalized comments for reference by anyone given the situation.

Let’s break it down:

For everyone’s information, you are referring to my discussion on Katsuki’s early mindset and behavior here.

The issue at hand:

Katsuki suggested that Izuku could become a hero if he took a dive off a roof.

1. Did Katsuki cross a line?

Yes.

2. Did he understand that he crossed a line?

Later? Yes, that same day one of his goons said so to his face. At the time he said it? That’s uncertain.

3. Should he have known better?

The short answer is yes. The long answer is nuanced and requires answering some other upcoming questions.

When he says it, he’s either just turned 14-years-old or is just about to turn 14-years-old. Is that an excuse? No. Is that relevant to the nuanced answer? Yes.

4. Why is Katsuki’s age relevant?

People bring up his age when discussing this question often. If you think this is a “boys will be boys” excuse to let Katsuki get away with his bullshit, you’re not understanding what people are talking about. It’s not Katsuki’s literal age that matters, it’s his moral and emotional development that matters. This isn’t tied to the number of years Katsuki has been alive, but it is tied to the typical timeline of the development of the human brain.

5. What does it mean that Katsuki should have known better?

Consider a two-year-old child. If you hear a two-year-old say, “Go kill yourself,” what would your reaction be? Probably something like, “Who taught this kid to say that?” Probably not something like, “This kid is a bad egg, a waste of human space, a horrible person destined to abuse others for the rest of their life.”

Babies learn by imitation. As children grow, they are shaped by the world around them via their parents, teachers, peers, and society-at-large.

So, if you hear a two-year-old goad someone to commit suicide and think that the child is parroting something previously heard, at what age would your opinion of that child change?

Katsuki is at the beginning of adolescence. He has just begun developing more complex abstract thinking and reasoning skills. Everyone’s development is different, so it stands to reason that Katsuki‘s progression to moral maturity has only just begun.

For this reason, I can understand if many adolescent readers/viewers hear Katsuki’s line and judge him based on their own current level of development rather than considering that Katsuki is at a different development level than they are.

Katsuki’s age is not an excuse; it’s a reference point.

Removing Katsuki from the picture, if I hear a 14-year-old say something like, “Kill yourself,” my thoughts about them would be:

“This poor child. They are clearly encountering more bad messages and influences in their life than good ones. Society has failed them. This child needs help.”

(This isn’t to ignore the victim. Of course, I would have thoughts for them as well. I’m just talking about the instigator at this time to stay concise.)

Circling back to the question at hand, society should have done more for Katsuki’s sake.

6. So then...Katsuki shouldn’t be held liable?

Hell no, he should. This is an opportunity for education. That’s the whole damn point. Katsuki can know better, so a decent authority figure should take action. Every second someone doesn’t step in, society is failing Katsuki.

7. If Katsuki should have known better, then how can he ever be a good person?

People 👏 aren’t 👏 inherently 👏 bad 👏 for 👏 making 👏 mistakes, 👏 even 👏 big 👏 ones. 👏

Especially if those mistakes result from social conditioning and ignorance. Those mistakes can be rectified and unlearned, particularly if the person in question is earnest about wanting to be better.

8. Isn’t that just making excuses for his behavior?

I made no excuses for actions. I only spoke of “inherent badness.”

If you think the only good people in this world are the ones born with a perfect understanding of moral systems and evaluations and never have to learn, then we’re all bad people and you’re just picking and choosing your favorites at this point.

If you think a person is inherently bad because of one single moment in their life, that they’re incapable of learning and improving and doing good in this world, then, well, here are my thoughts on you:

“This poor child. They are clearly encountering more bad messages and influences in their life than good ones. Society has failed them. This child needs help.”

9. I don’t like him.

Okay. I didn’t ask you to. You’re allowed to dislike him as much as I’m allowed to like him. Whether or not you or I like a character doesn’t have to be connected with whether or not that character is a “good person” by some arbitrary standard. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

10. He can’t be a good person until he apologizes to Izuku.

I think you missed the part about “inherent badness.” No one is inherently good or bad. People are merely moral agents. Actions are moral. If a person has a tendency to make a ton of immoral decisions, yeah, I’d want to stay away from them for obvious reasons, but that’s to do with the trends of their actions.

Also, a big part of the story is about Katsuki’s moral development, his atonement, and his apology. This is a fictional story. Part of the art is in how Horikoshi wants to depict that apology. There’s no need to rush it. It’ll happen in some form or another. Just you wait.

11. You’re rambling.

Oops. Back on topic!

12. What was going through Katsuki’s head when he told Izuku to dive off the roof?

I don’t know.

All I can speak to is the potential literary purpose and make my own guesses.

Meta time!

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide should always be taken seriously. If you’re feeling trapped or lost or alone or hopeless, if you’re having suicidal ideation and don’t know what to do, there are resources to help you. You may not know how to ask for help, and that’s okay. You don’t have to do it perfectly or on command, but please try to reach out however you can. If you find the topic of suicide uncomfortable, please take this message as your final warning. If you’re ready for the discussion, read on.

Context: Suicide in Japan

First of all, it’s important to note before any discussion that Katsuki’s behavior in chapter 1 has every potential to read differently to a Japanese audience than a western one (or any other audience, for that matter).

Why do I say this? How is it possible for there to be a context in which Katsuki’s behavior is okay?

There isn’t. Those were two separate questions. I just want to highlight that there’s a difference between the ethics discussion (which I am no longer interested in, see all the answered questions above for that) and the literary discussion.

The context matters for understanding Katsuki’s behavior as a literary device.

I cannot give you the full context. Suicide in Japan is an extremely complex and nuanced topic, just as it is in the west. What I can point out are a few basics:

Suicide is a very narrow concept in the west. Western language (English specifically) and opinions about it are informed by centuries of religion and philosophy. To this day, it is not common to have much of a discussion about it outside of a small number of specific contexts. The west tends to think of suicide in purely moral terms. Suicide is considered a sin in Christianity (which is a horrifically reductive view of the problem). Suicide in many cases is considered an action and not a symptom, and there is a significant contemporary movement to change that trend for the sake of improving mental health.

Whereas there is really only one word for suicide in English (as opposed to phrases describing methods), there are many words for suicide in Japanese. This is similar to the many words for “love” in Greek that dissect the otherwise vague concept into more specific versions (i.e. familial love versus platonic love versus romantic love, etc.); Japanese has words for specific concepts of suicide that may not have much meaning or history in English. There are very few points of reference in western culture that give much meaning to Japanese concepts like “ritual suicide,” “honor suicide,” “parent-child suicide,” “love suicide,” and “internet group suicide,” to name some examples. With this sort of historical context, the Japanese public are generally considered fairly tolerant of suicide, in some cases even ascribing aesthetic appeal to it. Japan has a high suicide rate compared to similar countries, and there is a trend of treating suicide as a social issue (or issues) rather than a public health concern.

This context doesn’t make it morally permissible to tell someone to kill themselves, but it does affect the meaning behind the words. Words convey thoughts, and context can help you understand a character’s thoughts or an author’s intentions better.

Meta discussion

So with all that squared away, all that’s left is to take a dive (uh, pun not intended) into Katsuki’s head.

The roof line serves two purposes:

To depict Katsuki’s current level for his ability in rescue (hint: it’s level 0)

To illustrate Izuku’s mindset of not taking himself into account

With chapter 319, we now know for a fact Katsuki thinks Izuku is off in the head and has probably subconsciously felt that way ever since the river incident of their childhood. Katsuki likely didn’t think Izuku would do it when he said to dive off the roof. Did he make that determination consciously? I doubt it. But he’s right about that assumption.

It’s true that Izuku didn’t take the dive off the roof comment poorly in that he didn’t consider suicide. His reasoning is easy to gloss over because it sounds logical and rational. He thinks Katsuki was wrong to make the suggestion because, if Izuku had actually done it, it would affect Katsuki’s future as he instigated a suicide.

But that’s strange, because Izuku is no third party in this situation.

People (me included) point out that Izuku isn’t a victim because he doesn’t behave as one. He doesn’t see himself as one. And yet...he actually is a victim, technically speaking, even if he just didn’t perceive himself as one. His response to being told to kill himself is...to worry about the future prospects of the instigator. There are no initial thoughts of concern or comfort for himself, no feelings about his own well-being at all. That’s disconcerting. That’s the stuff that really bothers Katsuki, as we learn in chapter 284.

So when Katsuki says the line, he probably wants Izuku to fight back. He probably wants to trigger Izuku’s (terrifyingly lacking) survival instinct. We can infer this given Katsuki’s later comment of, “It pisses me off when he dreams like a little kid,” or something like that. Izuku doesn’t consider his own quirklessness a liability, just an obstacle to overcome. From Katsuki’s perspective, Izuku hasn’t learned what everyone else learns once they get their quirk (because Izuku never got one as a child). Izuku doesn’t understand the potential danger to himself and others that quirks pose because he doesn’t have one, he doesn’t have that reference point. Even Katsuki’s extreme language to instigate suicide and threat of fighting Izuku with his quirk immediately after doesn’t make Izuku consider that fact. Izuku has no fear for himself.

Katsuki’s goon points out that Katsuki went overboard, but that implies Katsuki has never said anything quite so harsh to Izuku before. It’s been a steady escalation to this point, with each lesson Katsuki has tried to impart on Izuku being lost (because he’s an inept teacher when it comes to Izuku). What the hell does Katsuki have to do to get the message through to Izuku?

That question isn’t rhetorical. We’re on chapter 319 and Izuku still doesn’t get it. Izuku still doesn’t take his own well-being into account.

From chapter 284:

How can Katsuki save Izuku from this mindset? He’s still working on that one.

Although, interestingly, chapter 319 just might be the beginning of the answer to this question.

#izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bakudeku #not shippy but like this is important to their relationship #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #my hero academia spoilers #my hero academia manga spoilers #katsuki bakugo's guilt-complex emporium #meta #tw: suicide #ask pika #anon ask

[writhingcreature]

Do you ever just get so tired of people joking about trauma and wish they’d finally address the problem? Like I don’t blame anyone for using humor as a coping mechanism (I have myself in the past) but lets address the elephant in the room: making jokes doesn’t solve the situation. In fact, it makes them EXPONENTIALLY WORSE because it numbs people to those problems. Look around us.

Someone says “I’ll just go kill myself” and that’s... supposed to be a joke?

Dark humor isn’t a coping mechanism - it’s a way to play at being vulnerable without actually BEING vulnerable. A way to say “please help me” without actually asking for help, because we’ve been taught as a generation that no one will hear you no matter how much you scream. In fact, the louder you scream, the more people will think that screaming is just... normal.

And before y’all say “it isn’t that deep” in my comments. IT IS. IT IS that deep.

Suicide rates are raising, and it’s because the more we talk about mental health, the less we value it. Older people ask if you’re okay when you make jokes about killing yourself because it’s not a joke, not really.

You’re not okay, and just because you don’t feel comfortable talking about it doesn’t mean that they don’t recognize what you refuse to see. That you ARE calling out for help. That, even if it’s a secret to you, you want someone to see youre struggling and address it, even if you’re terrified to actually address it.

Think of it this way.

If someone’s arm was bleeding, and no one would help them for the longest time, and they were slowly bleeding out, what would they do? Ask for help. What if no one addressed that ask for help? What if they started screaming? What if that person, arm bleeding out, was taught that they couldn’t ask for help?

IT STILL HURTS.

THEY STILL HAVE TO GET IT OUT. Those tense emotions and that deep ache - they can’t ignore it like other people can. They have to mention it at the very least, because if they keep acting like their arm is fine, they’re going to go crazy. So they start making jokes. And when people finally actually want to help, and ask if they’re okay, they say they are because they’ve been taught they HAVE to say they’re okay, even if it’s SO BLATANTLY OBVIOUS THEY’RE NOT. And they’ll keep saying it’s okay, even if someone else calls them out on their bullshit.

In the mean time, their arm continues bleeding out until they fucking die.

I’m just... god I’m so tired. I’m tired of the apathy, and the making light of really traumatizing, deep, dark things going on around us.

Someone shoots up a school and to cope we make jokes because we were taught that we can’t cry.

Someone kills themself and we watch as people who cared about them scramble to scream PLEASE SAVE PEOPLE FROM ENDING UP LIKE THIS and watch it fail, and it teaches us not to even try.

Someone attacks a gay couple, or a poc, or a person of a religion that “isn’t acceptable” in the eyes of Christian society, and we scream BLM or Stop Asain Hate, or try to tell people that Muslims are just people too or WHATEVER IT IS, and they get attacked for it, or get written off as idiots, and the rest of us are taught that you can’t fight. You can’t argue, or you’re seen as hysterical and stupid and will never be taken seriously. You’ll never survive or have respect.

And that’s the thing isn’t it?

We’ve grown accustomed to just surviving.

I’m tired of surviving.

I want to live.

I want everyone to really, truly live.

And screw me for going off but isn’t anyone else really fucking tired of it too?

TLDR. I’m so exhausted by the way that society as a whole has begun to treat minorities/people with mental illness/people who were born differently than the “normal standard”/etc and wish people would address the global apathy we have fallen into that is destroying the ability to live, rather than just survive.

Disclaimer: I’m white, and grew up in a Christian household, so please tell me if I’ve misspoken on any front or said something about those I don’t have a right to speak for (I tried to speak most on things I myself experienced while still including all of the things I feel apply to this topic, because the global apathy I have a problem with also includes the horribly racist (homophobic, ableist, etc.) things that have been happening for far, FAR too long.) also, if I forgot to tag anything triggering or should add content warnings, please let me know.

#mental health #blm #black lives matter #stop Asian hate #tw//suicide mention #tw // swearing #tw // school shootings mention #cw // homophobia mention #cw // racism warning

[flameo-hotman]

TLDR: Someone pulled a mean prank on me but I found the silver lining and figured out a way to enact positive change on my blog to benefit both myself and my followers.

The person who was dming me has now informed me that they were pranking me and didn’t think I would take being told that my content is actively harmful to my followers seriously.

Guys hard fucking boundary.

Do Not Prank Me At All.

And excpecially about something as serious as that.

I am not joking about this. I need to be able to trust that the complains being made are real and not some tumblr troll.

I tag my posts that I think could be harmful. So if you don’t want to see them make sure to have that tag blocked. And honestly I don’t post a lot of stuff that needs to have trigger warnings in the first place.

And if anyone is wondering is a good prank and what is a bad prank concider does the prank cause harm or make someone the butt of a joke? If the answer is yes then it is a bad prank and you shouldn’t do it.

So in that context telling someone that their content actively is causing harm to people that they care about? Is that a good prank or a bad prank? It is a bad prank.

Granted there was some stuff that I will be more aware of going forward for sure because I do need to think critically about what I am posting. (I do my best to think critically about it already.)

But all things considered I feel like an idiot for falling for the prank.

If I do something that is harmful then yes I want to know about it. But now I’m gonna be wondering in the back of my mind if next time I get a message like that is gonna be “Am I getting pranked again?”

The good thing is I trust my friends to let me know if someone is just trying to fuck with me. And if they think that there is merit to what I bring said then I will respond in an appropriate manner. If they think it is bullshit I will ignore it.

And what I mean by some of the stuff was actually stuff I should be more aware of is in refrence to when I post my fics or fanart. Not everyone likes angst and I don’t tend to tag angst. I am going to be doing that going forward.

But me sharing what’s up in my life like me being sick or just having a crummy day? Not really problematic. And yeah going forward I’ll def yah that, but to let myself think telling people I had a less than stellar day was actively harming my followers? God I feel like such an idiot.

And normally when I had a bad bad or am feeling down I post about cabbages because sometimes that’s all I can do. (Sorry if yahl thought that the cabbage thing was some weird quirky thing I was doing. It is more or less my way to quietly admit that I’m not doing great and that helps me feel better. Because I’ve been working on letting people know when I am not okay. Because that is actually something I actively need to work on.)

But yeah long story short someone saw that I said not to prank me and decided to prank me in the exact way that made me hate getting pranked in the first place. Though there was some stuff that made me think about ways I can improve my blog.

I deleted the post where I was believing them and thinking that my content was actively harming thousands of people even though it wasn’t. Because in that post I decided that I was going to stop exsprecing actual human emotions other than being super cheerful all the time.

Belive me I’ve tried that before and it was miserable. We are allowed to have multiple emotions and allow some of those to be negative emotions.

Going forward if I post something that I think has negitivity I will tag it as such.

From now on I will make sure to double check with people I trust to make sure that someone isn’t trying to play a mean prank on me.

And I think one of the biggest changes I will be making is getting a moderator to filter out trolls. Actually that is a really good idea.

The mod won’t make any posts of their own on my blog, but they will be able to see and moderate the messages that people are sending me. Because the trolls are adapting.

(I am convinced that it is the same people almost every time. But no matter how many times I’ve blocked the accounts that are sending me these anons [there is an actual way to block anons] and the accounts that send me harassment, they keep coming back.)

I feel a lot better now.

Okay game plan is make more tags so that way people who don’t want to see angst or me ranting just have to block angst and rant tags. And also get a mod for my messages.

This seems do able.

Holy fuck I think I have actually found a way to deal with the anons that will work.

As for the tags I will be coming up with them and making a full list of the things that I need to tag for. So if there is something that I post that you don’t want to be seeing then tell me and I will tag it, so you can block it. Seriously. No cap. If I post about a certain type of food that you can’t stand to see tell me to tag it and I will no questions asked.

A good example would be me and pranks.

Straight up hate them. I don’t need to tell yahl why. But if I find a post where someone is talking about pranks then I can just ask them to tag it so it will be blocked. If they ask then yes I will exsplain to them why, but everyone has different tiggers.

And personally I don’t think someone should have to justify why something that might seem like something benign and unassuming to most people is something that they should have to justify not having to see.

Point is if you need something tagged just let me know. I won’t ask questions. I will add the tag so that way it will be blocked if you have the tag black listed.

Example someone asked me to tag when a post gets long. I have no idea why that’s something they wanted tagged, but as this post is starting to get pretty long I am gonna tag this as a long post. (I admit often times I have forgotten to tag when a post is getting long. This is something I plan to work on and why I am going to be making a list. And before each and every post I will look through the list of tags and see if any apply.

TLDR: Someone pulled a mean prank on me but I found the silver lining and figured out a way to enact positive change on my blog to benefit both myself and my followers.

#flameo-hotman #rant #rant tw #long post #long post tw

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter XIX

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA+18

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Thoughts of murder.

A/N: So, I know I haven’t been posting much. Real life has been throwing some things my way and I haven’t felt much like writing. But, I finally finished this one. Just one more chapter after this one and it’s done! Whoot!!

Chapter XIX - Ivar’s POV

There’s something about the confident way she holds her head, with her chin stuck out and her shoulders back that draws a smirk to my lips. She’s proud – I wonder how long that will last. “Dr. Svensdottir, I presume?” Her small hand instantly disappears inside mine as her delicate fingers scrape against my palm. I would have thought a woman with such a presence would have a much firmer handshake. But, maybe playing coy is the way she tricks men into telling her what it is that she wants to know, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

With just the slightest bit of a nervous nod, her hand slides out from mine before she smooths her palm over the front of her skirt. What exactly is that little move about? Is she trying to wipe me off her hands or stop herself from sweating? “Please call me, Gert, Mr. Ragnarsson.” 

“Ivar,” I correct, dispensing with the formalities. The crease in her brow softens and her shoulders drop just a hint before she gestures for one of the two high back chairs on the opposite side of her desk. With a slow blink, I look from her outstretched hand to her choice of chairs before heading toward the other seating area. This area, presumably set up for therapy sessions, is more intimate. I like this space better, although it’s hideous. The oversized, ugly green chairs are placed close together, guaranteeing that we will be sitting next to each other, with no desk separating us. Don’t be afraid, Blondie. 

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I take a seat on one of the green seats and casually cross my leg over my lap. Smiling, I turn to face her, “So, how’s our boy?”

The skirt she’s wearing is entirely too short to be professional. I wonder if this is how she tricks Hvitserk into talking about shit that he’s not supposed to, with the allure of sex. As her toned outer thigh exposes when she crosses her leg, my eyes can’t help but to drop to her left foot that shakes ever so slightly by her right calf. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ivar. Hvitserk talks about you often.”

Oh, really? I wonder what my dear brother has told this whore about me. “All good things, I hope.” My cheeks ache from forcing a smile this wide. Anything to hide what I’m really feeling, which is more akin to reaching my hand between us and feeling her hyoid bone shatter beneath the weight of my thumb. “If they weren’t, I’ll have to blame it on his condition.” Careful, as not to make my laugh seem too forced, I chuckle easily and wipe my smile with the pad of my finger, before turning a more serious gaze on her. 

“Well,” she starts, choosing her words carefully, “you know that Hvitserk has been on a long and arduous road during his treatment. But,” she stammers quickly, looking up to make sure that she hasn’t completely turned me off before she’s gotten to the core of her argument, “he’s making tremendous progress.” Her lashes blink slowly over her large greenish-blue eyes.

Does this shit really work on the guys she meets? 

Feigning interest in this doctor is proving to be more difficult than I remember. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I hunted, and I don’t have time for all the bullshit and games. Right now, I just want to do what I want to do and get it over with. Yeah, I’d like to enjoy the chase, but I can always enjoy the next one. I deserve this one. A quick kill, after all this damn time. Shit, especially this bitch? She owes this to me. But bitches like this…gotta make her fear me before I make her feel me. Fuck… “Has he, now? Does that mean that he’ll be able to come home soon?”

“Well,” Is she fucking smirking? “I’m afraid that Hvitserk won’t be able to leave here – not for a very, very long time.”

“Wait, you just said,” I sit up straighter and lean closer to her.

“I said he’s made progress, not that he’s ready to leave,” she interrupts. Her eyes suddenly drop back to her lap and she studies her nails, “Those are two very different things, I’m afraid. We’ve actually reached a breakthrough in his treatment. In fact, that is what I would like to speak with you about, today. Hvitserk’s treatment.”

 I’m going to kill her.

“Funny. I’ve been trying to talk to you about my brother for…months.” I feel the smile starting to spread across my lips. I know that I’m supposed to be here for Serk, but this bitch thinks she can outwit me. We need to establish the ground rules now, before she gets hurt.

Titling my head allows me to take in the slightest nuances of her expression. Like how her eyes enlarged just a smidge at my comment, and how hard she’s swallowing. God, her discomfort are dead giveaways - she doesn’t like being challenged.

“I’ve called and you’ve refused to talk to me. I’ve sent emails, which have gone ignored. I’ve come here and been turned away.” My voice remains even and calm, just to show that I pose no threat. Can’t have her scurrying off like a scared little rabbit, now can I? “It’s interesting to me that my brother has been here for almost 18 months and though I’m his Power of Attorney, this is the first conversation that you and I have had about him.” 

“I need you to understand that as Hvitserk’s therapist, I thought it best that he not have any outside distractions.” She blinks so much when she’s nervous. It’s comical to watch her try to choose her words so they don’t offend me.

What did you tell her about me, Serk? Did you tell her that I have a penchant for flaying skin layer by layer? Or that I like to put pretty women’s faces in jars? I have a spot on my new bookcase that her face would look lovely on. 

“Distractions?” I hope that didn’t sound how I meant it; like I want to take that stapler off the desk and bash her fucking face in. “I’m his only brother – I’m not a distraction.”

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. She’s not used to not having the upper hand. This conversation isn’t going the way she’d hoped. “I didn’t mean that you would be a distraction. I only meant,” she looks up as if the words she needs are magically written on the drop ceiling, “he needs to fully concentrate on his treatment.”

“And what treatment is that, exactly?” I cross my legs and lean back in my seat. Show her that you’re relaxed. Don’t give her a reason to run. “That’s all I’ve been trying to find out – what is going on with my brother.” How does Hvitserk do it when he’s uncomfortable? Oh yeah, he drops his eyes and lowers his voice. He sounds desperate. “When they took us from the house, the police wouldn’t tell me anything about him. Everything was so sudden. It’s my job to protect him and I wasn’t there for him.”

Her legs uncross and she leans a little closer. This is what this bitch wants – she wants me to be vulnerable. Well hell, I can play along. Does she think this is a fucking therapy session? That’s she’s going to get some big insight on me? Oh blondie, you don’t want to see what’s behind this mask. “But, you were released?” 

A slight nod to the left and a shoulder raise adds to my innocence, “Of course I was released. I’m innocent - I didn’t do anything. The police found no evidence to connect me to any of Hvitserk’s crimes.” The stain on the carpet, is a good place focus my gaze. If she can’t see my eyes, she can’t tell what I’m thinking, and as long as they’re lowered I can tell her anything. “I found my brother with his fiancé in my bedroom. I didn’t even know about that reporter lady in the basement…” The head shake seals the deal, “I mean, I knew he was stressed and dealing with a lot of things, blacking out and the like. But, I never suspected he was capable of anything like this. He was always so sensitive and gentle. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t do enough. I should have seen the signs – gotten him help sooner.”

Her eyes are locked on me and mine briefly catch hers before I lower them back to the floor. “You mustn’t be too hard on yourself. You did the best you could for him. You protected him the best way that you knew how.” This is too fucking easy. “Were you at the trial?”

Picking at the threads on the chair, I feel my face drop in disappointment, before I offer a slight nod, “By the time he went to arraignment they were already talking about insanity.” I clear my throat and lift my voice to just above a whisper. I don’t want to show too much emotion. This bitch does this for a living and I can’t risk her seeing through my act, “He was so out of it at his trial I doubt that he even knows that I was there. I don’t know what kind of drugs you had him on, but he didn’t recognize me.”

“I didn’t start treating him until after he was brought to our facility,” she smooths a strand of lent off the end of her skirt, keeping her eyes trained on her lap again. I’m almost impressed with how easily she lies. She knows damn well she was treating him beforehand. I saw that bitch in the courtroom. I heard her testimony. And for shits and giggles, if I hadn’t every fucking thing she dosed him with is right there in that thick ass file on her desk. Does she know who she’s talking to? I invented this fucking game. “I do know that he was heavily medicated when he first came here. It took some time before I was able to get his medication regulated and for him to become stable. He no longer has to be sedated.”

“Sedated?”

“Um, yes,” she looks at me briefly before looking around the room again, “part of his treatment is immersion therapy. Sometimes the sessions can get rather intense. The only way to pull him out of it, is to sedate him. It’s really for his own good.” She licks her lips nervously, “He struggles so much with his past.” Though I offer a knowing nod, I wonder if she can tell that I’m about two seconds off of her. “You’ll be happy to know that he’s much more active and alert now that his medication is properly managed.”

Really? Because twice when I came here to get him, he was still a fucking zombie. In fact, the last time, he fucking refused. No explanation, no crying, and bullshit; no nothing. He just fucking refused to leave with me. So tell me, bitch, how much more active and fucking alert is he?

“That’s so good to hear,” I remember seeing him bleeding on the very spot I’ve been looking at for the past ten fucking minutes, while he looked up at me from this floor, when I was standing outside of that sliding glass door. Is that her idea of active and alert? “When I try to check on him, he refuses my calls. It’s like he doesn’t seem to know who I am anymore, or that he doesn’t want to be bothered. Almost like he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Mr. Ragnarsson,” she pauses, “Ivar, I assure you, Hvitserk is doing much better now. He’s become quite well adjusted and acclimated with our program.” She walks over to her desk to grab his file. I don’t give a shit what’s in there. It’s all a bunch of lies, anyway. “He’s actively participating in individual and group therapy sessions, now. He’s even joined a few activities. He’s especially good at drawing, did you know that?” That fake modest smile is enchanting. I wonder if I could carve it on her face permanently. 

Drawing? Really? I’m supposed to be impressed because Serk can fucking draw? What the fuck is this whore talking about?

It’s laughable that she thinks all this progress Hvitserk has made is because of her. It’s a fucking joke. He hasn’t made any damn progress, it’s a fucking game. It’s all a part of my plan to get him the fuck out of here. He’s making progress because he’s not taking those fucking drugs anymore. He can finally fucking think in this fucking place and it’s only a matter of time before he walks out the front door with a trail of bodies behind him.

“Well, that’s wonderful. Then there should be no problem with me seeing him,” I try to keep my composure, but Gert gets on my fucking nerves. I just want to see my brother. “Is he going to join us?” I turn around and look at the door as if he’s going to come bounding through it at any moment.

As soon as I turn back to face her, I notice her crestfallen expression, “I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Mr. Ragnarsson.” She places a pair of black-rimmed glasses on her nose and opens the file as if she’s concentrating on the contents therein, “As I stated, Hvitserk has been making tremendous progress. He’s becoming an active participant in his recovery. He’s solely focused on the steps he needs to take to get well, and in a healthy place.”

I bite the inside of my bottom lip until I taste the coppery of blood in my mouth. The pain is the only thing keeping me glued to this seat at the moment, but I have no problem keeping my expression pleasant.

“What I mean by that is, currently, Hvitserk is concentrating on himself. He rarely talks about you anymore, or his past or the things that haunt him. He’s at a place where he’s looking forward to his future. I’m afraid,” she keeps her eyes trained on the file, “having a conversation with you would be a huge setback for him.” She fishes out a sheet of paper and leans over to hand it to me.

I would concentrate on how much her hand is shaking and how the way the paper gently rocks as it extends toward me, but I’m far more interested in the just how tightly she’s clutching the top of it in her hand. Her knuckles are almost white, she’s gripping it so tightly. Just to fuck with her, I grab the paper close to where her hand is, and let my fingers brush her knuckle. 

I look at her, unmoved, then let my eyes roam over the contents of the paper now in my hands. 

It’s a letter in Hvitserk’s handwriting.

“Is this mine?” I ask, folding the letter in half, ready to stuff it in the inside pocket of my jacket. I watch her nod. “If this is truly what Hvitserk wants, then I won’t stand in the way of his treatment. I just ask that you keep me updated with any changes to his condition.” I go to stand and watch as the doctor stands as well. I extend my hand to her and watch the way she considers taking it, “I apologize if I have seemed overbearing or bothersome, Doctor. I am just concerned about my brother.”

She smiles and nods her head in agreement, “I completely understand, and it’s not a bother. In fact,” she shakes my hand with both of hers, “it was nice to finally meet you. Hvitserk had talked about you so much I felt like I knew you. I’m sorry this was the outcome, but I really do think it’s for the best for his treatment. Maybe later, after he’s made more progress, we can try to start introducing you into some sessions, but for now…”

I wave her off with the slight of my hand, “Whatever he needs. I would never deny him anything.” 

It takes everything I have not to burst out in a fit of laughter. This fucking doctor doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. Hvitserk isn’t fucking cured, he’s biding his fucking time. 

Let’s meet somewhere quiet, a place just for us? Maybe we could get some friends together and have a party? Yeah okay, Serk…I know exactly what you’re saying.

It’s been too fucking long, and these motherfuckers are playing with fire. Just so happens that I’m gasoline and you’re the lit match. 

I can’t wait to watch this motherfucker burn! 

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[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Twenty-Nine

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Trigger warnings for torture, grief, excessive drinking

Sorin stared out the window. Being in angel territory always left Sorin restless. He didn’t belong, and while he had faith that he and Cyrus could handle anything, the rejection was strong.

“You’re going to be on your best behavior, right?” Cyrus asked as he parked the car.

“I’ll be fine,” Sorin muttered.

“Promise? This isn’t a bar fight I can fish you out of if you get pissy, Sorin. These are powerful people we’re talking to. Are you sure you’re ready?” Cyrus’ warm face was scrunched with stress, and his ringed fingers held onto the steering wheel far too tightly for comfort.

“I’m in control,” Sorin promised, getting out of the car. “And I’m not walking away from this. I’ve come too far.”

Cyrus caught up with Sorin by the time he made it to the front steps. When Cyrus grabbed Sorin’s hand, he didn’t complain, just knocked on the front door.

A very tall ginger opened the door. Glowing green eyes pinned Sorin in place, and Sorin felt disturbingly seen. Only Cyrus’ hand squeezing his kept Sorin from bristling. “Who are you?” This angel said, mouth quirking slightly. “And why should I care.”

Sorin opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. He didn’t trust himself to say anything, so he let Cyrus take the lead. The witch was a lot more of a soothing presence than Sorin and his flickering temper.

“My name is Cyrus. This is my mate, Sorin.” Cyrus squeezed Sorin’s hand again. “We’re here to request an audience with Baylor? Amara Claire sent us.”

The angel gave a laugh. “You’re not going to get anywhere with him if you call him Baylor. Or mention that Amara sent you.”

Cyrus didn’t even bat an eye, which was better than Sorin would have managed. “That was the name we were given,” Cyrus said apologetically. “We’re looking for an angel. Remiel, I think Amara said? He-” Cyrus paused, and then said, as delicately as possible, “He killed Sorin’s cousin a few years ago. We’re not looking for trouble, or to pick fights. Just some closure.”

“I don’t know how much closure you’re going to get; Remiel is dead.”

Sorin tried not to flinch. “Dead how?” He demanded. “When?”

The angel leaned against the doorway. “Tortured, I imagine. You’re a few months too late.”

“Tortured?” Cyrus echoed, blinking several times. “I highly doubt it was for what he’s done to demons in the past. What for, then?”

Sorin barely heard him. Dead? Amara must have known, so why would she send them on this stupid wild goose chase? And how the fuck was he supposed to find closure when the person who killed Fax was dead? Sorin didn’t even know why.

“Sucks, doesn’t it? Not being able to find closure,” the angel said. His eyes weren’t glowing anymore, were practically dull, but he still fixed Sorin with a stare that was far too knowing.

“This is a waste of time,” Sorin said abruptly. “Let’s go, Cy. I’ll- angels aren’t going to help us. I told you that.”

“Sorin,” Cyrus sighed, looking pained.

“I just wanted to know why,” Sorin said. He hunched his shoulders. “Fax just fucking gardened. He collected cats and he sat in his stupid fucking flowers and made moony eyes at that stupid angel he was sleeping with. I wanted to know why. He didn’t do anything.”

If Sorin didn’t know better, the ginger angel looked a little pained too. Which. That didn’t make any fucking sense. “You can talk to Bay, if you want. I’m sure he has plenty to say on the matter.”

Cyrus’ grip had moved to Sorin’s upper arm. “Thank you,” Cyrus said. “We appreciate it.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” the angel replied with a bland smile. “Bay’s about as pissy as your omega is.”

Sorin told himself that the small hiss he let out was because Cyrus dug his fingers in Sorins arm. Of course, that was because Sorin’s magic leapt with Sorin’s temper. But. Still. Cyrus didn’t let go of Sorin until the angel turned to lead them inside and upstairs. Sorin kept close to Cyrus, trying to ignore the weight of the sentries’ stares on them as the angel led them to what looked like a nursery.

“Bay,” the angel announced in an almost threateningly cheerful tone. “You have visitors.”

Sorin zeroed in on the small omega in the rocking chair, who was incredibly tense even with the sleeping infant on his chest. Sorin forced himself to relax; he didn’t know much about angel children, but demon children were incredibly sensitive to the room’s emotions. He didn’t want to wake it up and have to deal with the crying, too.

“What do you want?” Bay said.

Not the welcome Sorin would have liked, but expected. He leaned into Cyrus, seeking both comfort from his mate, and to seem less like a threat. Once again he let Cyrus take the lead. Cyrus repeated their stupid quest for knowledge in his usual calm tone.

Somehow Bay’s expression shifted from defensive to more tired. “We branded Remiel a traitor and gave him over to Cameron Luaine. What he did after that isn’t my business.”

Sorin slid his hand in Cyrus’ pocket, seeking stability. Why- that didn’t make any sense. Cyrus, to his credit, seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he asked quietly, “Why would you brand one of your own a traitor and hand him over to a demon?”

“Remiel tortured Cameron’s omega,” Bay said. “And it was inexcusable.”

Sorin damn near bit his tongue clean through to keep himself from speaking. It didn’t work. “Why would you care about a demon’s omega?” he blurted. For that matter, why did they let Sorin, a demon, walk in here and start demanding answers.

“Are you suggesting I don’t care about my brother’s feelings?” Bay asked dryly.

That pulled Sorin and Cyrus both to a stop. “We didn’t realize you were Cameron’s brother,” Cyrus finally said. “We didn’t mean any offense. We’re just trying to understand the full picture at this point. It’s the only way I can think of to help Sorin move on.”

“Cameron’s omega was an angel,” Bay said tiredly. “An angel Remiel abused.”

Cyrus seemed properly discomforted and upset, but all Sorin could think to say was, “Levant?” He shook his head. “Fax- Fax was infatuated with an angel. Levant. They got all domestic and shit.” Things were starting to make a lot more sense now. “Do you think I could talk to Levant? Or would I have to ask Cameron, not you?” Not ideal, but neither was walking into an angel’s house for answers, so really, what was the cost?

“Only if you can speak to the dead. Otherwise, no.”

Oh. “Did Remiel kill him?” Sorin asked without thinking. Cyrus’ fingers tapped a warning on his side, but Sorin had eyes only for Bay. He needed these answers. Not knowing was eating him alive.

“No. It was a family matter.” There was a particular emphasis on the word family, a twinge of contempt that Sorin couldn’t quite interpret.

When Sorin managed to keep his big mouth shut this time, Cyrus said lightly, “Thank you for your time. We’re sorry for intruding the way we did, but you’ve been more helpful than we could have hoped. It seems Amara sent us on a bit of a wild goose chase; she seemed to imply there was more.”

Bay’s expression shifted to annoyance in a heartbeat. “You should have known better,” Bay said. “Amara knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows plenty. Lev was her cousin.”

“I was told to go to the mutt for answers,” Sorin muttered. “That she’d be able to help. Should have known it was bullshit.”

“First of all, do not call her that. Second of all, yes. You wasted your time.”

Sorin opened his mouth, and then shut it again, without prompting from Cyrus this time. “Sorry,” he finally said.

“I’m sure you are,” Bay said flatly.

Sorin winced. There was no point in insisting he was; he’d sound too defensive, and he was sure that explaining that he’d heard her called the mutt so many times he hadn't thought to consider it was offensive wouldn’t get him anywhere. In the end he just said, “Thank you, again. For explaining.” He started backing for the door.

“Next time you deal with Amara, make sure you get all the facts,” Bay ordered from his rocking chair.

Sorin made a face, but just took Cyrus’ hand as they made their way downstairs and out the door uncontested. Back to square one. Again.

--

Cameron was leaned back against the table, watching the traitor wheeze and choke on blood while Sazra healed him, yet again. He had already gotten everything out of Sage, at least, anything useful, which was not much. He had literally nothing on Destris or his whereabouts, or even why he was back in town. Though, Cameron figured Des was back in town because of Eden, and to punish Cameron for stealing his crown. He wanted to break Cameron’s toys all over again.

When Sazra was finished healing him, she disappeared out of the room without a word while Cameron stood in front of the sentry with his arms folded. A bloodied head lolled back against the steel chair, bloodshot and swollen deep violet eyes met his. “Just kill me,” he rasped. “I’ve told you everything. Everything.”

Cameron’s sharp smile made the sentry whimper.

“Oh I know,” Cameron said. “I broke you days ago, and I’m going to keep breaking you for as long as I feel like it.”

“I- he made me. He made me. He said he could provide for my fam-”

“The same family I was providing for?” Cameron asked, mildly. “Yes, you told me. And how does it feel knowing that that family is now dead.”

Sage swallowed thickly. “They didn’t do anything.”

“And neither did Lev,” Cameron said, bored. “And neither did Nik. But now I have to deal with the ramifications of your betrayal because my brother made you a promise that I was already making? An empty promise on his part, I might add. Since everyone in your household is now dead. And no one was there to stop me. Including my brother.”

Black tears streaked down Sage’s face. Either out of grief or anger. Cameron wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t quite care either. “You’re a monster,” Sage spat. “It was easy. You preach about not forgiving the angels and then bring them into your bed. A cruel man who thinks he can force his way into everyone’s world through blood and violence.”

Cameron snorted. “You make it sound like this is news to me. I can multitask.” He leaned over and dug his nails into Sage’s bound arms. “And I don’t think,” he said, softly. “I know. My kill count, is far, far superior to yours.”

Sage was trembling under his fingers, fear nearly coming out of his pores. Cameron tongued one of his fangs and straightened, going over to the table where his tools were. He traced a finger down a set of obsidian pliers. “First was the wife,” Cameron said. He picked the pliers up and eyed them. “You were trying for another child, were you not? Did it take?” Cameron didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Not like she’s going to be giving birth to anything anytime soon.”

Cameron came over and started yanking off finger nails. Sage tried his hardest to not make a sound, despite the pathetic whine that still managed to slip between his bloodied lips. “I bit her,” Cameron said. “Venom and all. And then I ripped her apart. She kept asking why I was in her house, what she did to upset me. Offered me all the money I could want. We both know I do not need money,” he said, with a final savage yank to the last finger. “I do not want it. I have enough blood money to drown you with.”

Fresh tears streamed down Sage’s face. Cameron could almost have sworn that he could hear the demon’s heart racing in his chest. Cameron lightly patted his cheek, in what he meant was supposed to be sympathy- at least, that was the way Nik seemed to do it. He didn’t know; didn’t care. “And your brats. What were their names- right. Rikard and Arlie.” The pure, unbridled rage in Sage’s eyes at the mention of his children’s names did absolutely nothing for Cameron, except for a small amount of satisfaction. “I did you the mercy, however, of killing them before their mother. I cannot imagine how horrifying it would have been,” he said, “To see your own mother being ripped apart like that.” Then again, his mother- well. He really couldn’t imagine it. At Sage’s small, wounded snarl, Cameron smiled. “You’re welcome. It’s a kindness,” Cameron said, continuing to take Sage apart piece by piece, “And I spared them from that.”

Every single word out of his mouth was a lie. It was as easy as breathing air, to get this look from Sage, from someone that Cameron had been generous to, giving him the protection, the resources, giving his family the protection, the resources. Sage made the foolish choice of believing his brother, and he was making an idiotic choice to actaully believe what Cameron was saying. He had killed all three of them in quick brutal blows while they were asleep. Not a sound had come from them before he had left the house and returned home that day.

Cameron stepped back, looking over his work- at the demon’s skin soaked in black blood and tears, voice hoarse and ragged as he tried breathing through blood filled lungs. Cameron once again called for Sazra, had her heal him, before checking the time. It was closing in on time to go make sure Nik hadn’t killed himself yet. Instead of picking right back up, Cameron decidedly bit down on Sage’s throat, sending venom into his bloodstream, and went back upstairs.

-----

Ash was still bitter about a good number of things this past week. Between not being able to save Lev and Bay growling and threatening to bite him anytime he went near Lucas, to his wife also being pissy in her pregnancy, Ash was going to lose his damn mind, especially when he was now hauling a wasted and bleeding Nik from yet another bar fight. “How the fuck are you this wounded,” Ash demanded, dropping Nik down on the couch. “I thought you were good at fighting.”

He could feel Nik looking up at him. Damn near had a clear image of Nik’s face just through the number of wounds on his skin. “That,” Nik said, barely intelligible, “Is the point.”

Ash gave him a flat look and pointed at him. “I am not your mother, Nikolas. I swear, if you keep doing this I will beat your ass. Do not expect me to heal you from this.”

Nik’s drunken, half smile sent a streak of fire down Ash’s spine. “Do you really think Mami would actually be helping me right now?”

“Pity party does not look good on you,” Ash said, ignoring the obvious bait that Nik was trying to set him off with.

Nik shrugged and crumbled back against the couch. “Everything looks good on me,” he sighed, turning into the couch.

Oh no you don’t, Ash thought.

He yanked Nik up so he was sitting and looking up at him. “We’re not finished,” he warned, listening to the footsteps coming into the doorway. Just by the scent of apples and lavender, he knew it was Nate. “Your brother can yell at you, now.”

Nik’s eyes crinkled, despite being completely void of any real emotion. “Can’t wait,” he said. “Maybe you can call Adrien and Amara and my parents in too. I’m sure you all want your turn lecturing me on what a horrible person I am.”

Ash rolled his eyes, but stepped to the side when Nate came in and went to sit next to his brother. He could sense Nate looking Nik over, the concern mixed with exasperation was clear in his scent. “You’re going to give me a heart attack,” Nate sighed.

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Nik said. “Now if you both excuse me,” - Nik was struggling to his feet, only for Nate to hook a hand in him and shove him back down onto the couch. “Will you both stop it, I’m fine,” Nik snapped. “I’m alive, aren’t I.”

Both he and Nate said, “Debatable.”

“I think you want to make yourself as miserable as possible,” Nate said. “You can’t bring him back, and the guilt is eating you alive. Nik- he. Lev wouldn’t want you to be killing yourself like this.”

“Good thing about being dead,” Nik said, coldly, “Don’t have to want anything.” He tried getting up and this time Nate let him, but Ash hooked his fingers in Nik’s forearm before he could land flat on his face, trying to storm past him. “Let me go.”

Ash forced his healing magic into Nik, healing the cuts, the bruises, the broken and fractured bones, before moving to Nik’s booze soaked brain and healing it. “That’ll do it,” Ash said, letting Nik go when Nik was stone cold sober again.

Nik shoved Ash hard enough Ash nearly fell back a few feet. He retaliated and shoved Nik down on the couch before Nate instantly was moving to get between the two of them. “Both of you- stop it right now. I will not ask again.”

“I did not say you could heal me,” Nik snapped.

“Oh no,” Ash said, unfazed. “Whatever will you do now that you’re sober and not a walking corpse. Maybe thank me instead of letting your ass die of alcohol poisoning?”

“You only healed me to piss me off, you fucker.”

Ash smiled. “You caught me.”

Nik snarled at him, and Ash bared his teeth, but Nate seemed to struggle on what side of the argument he fell on. Finally he said, “You both need to stop it. Just- I am dealing with a newborn on top of a grieving Silas and just- it is not anyone’s fault that Lev is dead,” he said, sharply. “Nik, you need to stop being this damn pathetic mess that I know you are better than. I am tired of cleaning up after you and I am tired of having to listen to Ash bitch and moan about you off trying to kill yourself. If I had half the mind, I’d sicc Adrien on you.” Adrien, who didn’t touch drugs or alcohol in any capacity- outside of cigarettes.

“Ah yes,” Nik deadpanned. “Sic the alpha with even more anger issues than me and Ash combined on me. Fan- fucking- tastic idea.”

Nate went quiet just long enough for Ash to clear his vision in time to see Nate get to his feet and shove Nik against the wall, tattooed fingers digging tight into Nik’s leather jacket. “I am trying to help you,” he whispered harshly. “Ash is trying to help you. Lev-” His voice cut off instantly and he looked so pained.

Nik looked up at his brother. “Can you see Lev?”

“No,” Nate said. Ash narrowed his eyes, but Nate continued, “No I can’t. He- must have moved on.”

Ash couldn’t tell if Nik looked even more grief-stricken or relieved. He let out a ragged breath before pushing against Nate. “Let me go. I want to go home. Cam’s probably gonna get pissy that I’m not there to eat his damn food.”

Nate seemed to hesitate, but reluctantly let Nik go. “If I let you leave this house, you go home,” he said. “Promise?”

Nik straightened his jacket and put a hand over his heart. “Oh, you have my word,” he said, solemnly.

Nate sighed tiredly. “Ash, keep an eye on things while I drive him home.”

“Have fun,” Ash said. “I’ll go get glared at by Bay.”

------

Bay was so damn bone tired, and it didn’t help that he was still so raw from being cut open, but he hadn’t let Nate or Ash help him with Lucas. He nearly tore Ash’s arm off with his teeth for going anywhere near his baby. Nate may or may not have had to stop him before Ash got an armful of teeth.

Lucas was so quiet on his chest, so small, while he carried him to the nursery. The sentries didn’t move from their posts and barely acknowledged them as Bay went past them to push open the nursery door. Eden was standing up in the crib, small fingers clenched into the bars while she hammered on, “DADADADADADA” again and again.

Bay sighed deeply and carefully went to lay his very quiet, very well behaved baby down in his crib before going to pick up the tiny monster rocking back and forth. He was careful about reopening his wounds as he went to change her and get her cleaned up. “Are you just going to live here from now on,” Bay asked, struggling her into a onesie.

She kept up her babbling over his shoulder as he picked her back up again, getting ready to put her down for the night. He had been following Cameorn’s schedule, just to keep Cameron from getting too pissy about it. They both had enough to worry about, and he didn’t feel like listening to Cameron bitch when he had a newborn to take care of, on top of Cameron’s kid.

Bay settled her on his chest and got the bottle into her mouth. She seemed to settle quickly, her attention elsewhere while he rocked her and fed her. After she finished her bottle, and he got her into bed, he double checked the temperature before going to settle on the couch with a blanket. Bay’s eyes closed slowly with the thought of Nate having to come get him for bed.

Again.

-------

tagging: @idreamonpaper @incandescent-creativity @livvywrites @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing #wip boost #my writing #hell to pay #cameron and nik and lev #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: bay #ch: nate #ch: ash

[wellanthropologicallyspeaking]

trigger warning // abusive parents, emotional abuse

i might be one of only a few people who have been thru the experience of loving and trusting a parent(s) their whole lives, and in a matter of months have that trust utterly broken and the love that you felt for them lost.

context is, long story summarized, my mom put me thru a very tramuatic experience last year (on christmas no less) when she basically said she “disowned me as her child”. i cried and cried and the whole thing was horrible, she just shouted so much while my dad begged her to stop and calm down, and he tried to calm me down too and brought me food afterwards.

the context for this was basically, the christmas tree that i was decorating for hours the night before had fallen when i was downstairs looking for an extension cord, and its falling broke one of the ornaments from my childhood that i had painted myself while in kindergarten/first grade. it was so heckin pretty and i was so proud of it and hoenstly when i saw i broke, along with a few other beloved ornaments, i broke down.

december last year was filled with all kinds of shit that led me deeper and deeper ino my depression, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. while we cleaned up the tree with me sobbing intensely, my mom was all “i told you this would happen !!! you should have done what i said !!!” THAT’S what you say to your CRYING CHILD (i’m 20 but still im her child and you would expect a person to be more compassionate towards THEIR KID)??? instead of seeing that they’re obviously upset. this made me fucking pissed and i just stormed to my room, and declared that im not celebrating christmas this year. my mom forced me and coereced me to have christmas dinner, but i slipped away with a turkey leg and bread into my room, while she was fucking pissed in the other room.

the next day, we had the horrible aforemention argument, where we went over the christmas canceling thing and me not wanting to celebrate, but my mom also went on the thing that i didn’t want to take her vitamins anymore, and she was fucking pissed at me for that.

now, that makes no sense, but i have pretty bad acne, and my mom has *taken it upon herself* to treat my acne herself, even though i kept telling i didn’t want or ask for her help, but she’d just insult me and force/blackmail me to take them. this went on for over a year, and it sounds horrible on its own, but it actually didn’t change my opinion of her until last december.

her argument was “because you’re not taking the vitamins i gave you, it means 1) you want to ruin your skin permanenly (and she goes on about ONE lady she knows who has bad acne scars who i’ve never even met) 2) you want to HURT ME EMOTIONALLY because i worry about you and you having horrible skin makes me feel bad (this sounds kinda emphathetic from her side of things but trust me, the way she meant it felt more like im some kind of experiement to her who she needs to fix and when she can’t “fix” me, she feels bad instead of ever considering MY FEELINGS)”

anyways that whole load of bullshit resulted in me arguing with her, and eventually led to her threatening to disown me while i sat sobbing so fucking uncontrollably, which i think was the only time since maybe i was a baby that i had ever cried so much and so hard. she eventually said, in not so many words, fuck you and im disowning you, while i was left shattered in a pool of my own tears.

it took me WEEKS to recover from the emotional turmoil that experience brought me, and i could never look her in the eye again.

about a month later, my dad would end up driving me to college instead of my mom (bc im a 20 year old american who still doesn’t know how to drive whoops) and over the months of the semester, he’d share things about how bad this lawsuit is that my mom’s waging against our neighbor (wholeeee other kettle of fish that i won’t get into here) and how it was stressing him out and using up precious time, money, and energy that he had. he also mentioned the whole lawsuit cost 40K to manage up to that point, bc my parents had been doing it for about 5 years and that’s the total sum it cost over those 5 years. i was fucking shocked bc, i remeber years back even BEFORE the lawsuit when i saw my mom google “free colleges” for me to attend when i’d graduate, bc she said college “was too expensive”. i mean yea that’s true but there’s a good college here that i want to go to that’s 6K a year?? like if you add it up, my time at college would cost LESS than the 40K wasted on this lawsuit AND we’d deffo have money left over for house repairs, of which our house needs a million. but nah, my mom’s priorities is that we need to waste 40K on a lawsuit for a plot of land on our drive way the size of a desk. size of a DESK. im not fucking kidding here, i wish i was bc its so ridiculous.

then later i learned that my mother (who i already knew had disowned her first daughter, what a shocker) had as a sort of “punishment” to her first daughter, aka my half sister, to take her piece of their apartment back that is in Russia. my dad said we could compromise on the money and get about 50K to pay for the downpayment for our house here, but my mom was s u r e she could “win” her case and get 300K for her share, which my dad said was near impossible and could put my half sister and her family in danger, bc apparently money handling in russia is risky business and people get killed for that sorta money.

my mother didn’t give a shit. about the actual reality of the situaion or the pain/danger she was putting my sister and her family thru. she could shit a turd and give more of a shit about that than her own daughter.

anyways all this and more that i learned, as well as the trauma she put me thru in december, made me open my eyes to the monster i had truly been living with. i finally learned how horrible, twisted, selfish, and cold blooded she was, and knew she could never have held any love for me. the mother i had known my whole life was a lie, and that lie shattered before my eyes.

this went on far too long (probably bc it shows i need therapy ahahaha i still haven’t dealt with this have i) but the message i want to share here is, if you’ve been in a situation where your parents have turned out to not be the person you thought they were, and the love you felt for them and the trust you had in them had shattered overnight, i want to say i know how you feel.

when that happens, everything that was normal with your parent(s) becomes abnomal. you go to share with them something you’re excited about, but you realize you can’t. you think about that yearly event you both go to but realize you can never go together again. it might not even be because they won’t allow it (my mom has “forgiven” me and thinks we’re alright again, as if december was “nothing”) but because you know in your heart that the person you did those things with is gone. they were really never there to begin with, because the whole thing was an act and the traumatic expriences you went thru made you see their true colors. and you see that their true colors are ugly as fuck.

those pauses when you realize that you can’t ever be the same around your parent as you once was, those times when you’re forever locked up to them because you won’t allow them in, when you feel guilty that you haven’t forgiven them and that its somehow your duty as their child to forgive them, i’m not here to say that you should open up, but that you should not open up to them. don’t ever feel like you are obligated to open up to them or “forgive” them. they hurt you and they broke your trust and made you experience horrible trauma that’s hard to come back from. just because they’re your family doesn’t mean you must forgive them.

there’s this societal norm that we’re surrounded by that in order to overcome and deal with trauma, you have to forgive the people who hurt you. in my opinion, i think that couldn’t be farther from the truth. if you are a person who finds it easist to deal with their pain by forgiving those who hurt you, i’m not bashing you; more power to you for being able to forgive, especially when i can’t do the same. however, forgiveness is touted as this “cure all” that people should use to forgive everyone who’s ever hurt you. that cannot be true because what works for one person does not necessarily work for the next. one person may be able to deal with their trauma with forgiveness, and another person cannot do the same. i believe that you shouldn’t have to forgive those who hurt you, especially when you don’t feel strong enough to or feel any love/trust in them after they’ve hurt you. i can accept that what happened, happened, and that what my mother did to me happened, and that it affected me terribly and left me with emotional scars that will be hard to heal from, but i cannot call her my mom anymore or forgive her for what she did to me.

i do feel tinges of guilt sometimes because, i think, of this societal norm that you should forgive everyone, and i feel that coming from my place as a daughter, that i have some obligation to forgive my mother based on what society tells you. you may feel the same too, that you feel guilty for not forgiving your family and that if you were a better person you would forgive them. im here to say that that’s bullshit. you may feel guilty for not forgiving your family but that’s not some sign that you actually should forgive them or that you deeply down want to forgive them, it just means that you feel guilt because of what society has drilled into you. its okay to feel guilty about not forgiving your family and still not forgive them at the same time !! i feel like this sometimes, but i still know that the trauma my mother put me thru and the lies i uncovered about her make me realize that i can never forgive her. if you’re not emotionally strong enough to forgive someone, if you don’t feel the same love or trust in someone as you once did and so are unable to forgive them, i just want to say, its okay not to forgive them !! this isn’t some kind of contest that you have to win, you don’t have to feel like you’re a weak or bad person for not forgiving someone, bc our ways for coping with trauma are all different !!

in my opinion, i think trying to forgive or keep people in your life who are obviously terrible is not healthy in the long run. my mom is still doing the shitty things that are similar to what i described earlier, and i now know that she’s still just the same horrible, selfish, cold blooded person she always was; she was just under a mask. me forgiving her or tolerating her now won’t magically turn her into a good mom !! she’ll always be shitty and its healthier for me to just cut her out of my life as much as i can (while im still living at home with both that parents, and me being unable to drive, that is proving very difficult). it’s just better to cut out toxic people from your life and surround yourself with healthy people who will help you grow and thrive. it’s kinda like what marie kondo says,

(yea im an organizing nut but her book has really helped me organize the house, and i think organizing is kinda my coping mechanism, i spent so much time after december doing a full rehaul of the house that i had never done before, because i think i wanted to regain control of my life in some part as a way to cope for all the shit i went thru)

you should only keep things (or people) that “spark joy”. anything or anyone that doesn’t “spark joy” for you, you’re allowed to remove from your life : )

#forgiveness #trauma #emotional abuse #emotional trauma #family #family abuse #parents #parent abuse #self care #coping

[libvrtines]

                          hewwo  i’m  felix  ( 20 ,  he / him , gmt )  and  i  just  realised  my  fc  has  no  mf  resources  that  aren’ t from  him  as  a  fetus  and  will  therefore  b  spendin  approximately  all  my  free  hrs  cranking  out  gif  icons  ,  so  lets  get  it  *  pained  laughter  *  !  this  is  my  boy..  except  he’s  not  my  boy  and  i  take  no  credit  for  who  he  is  as  a  person  because  he’s  the  personification  of  a  flaming  dumpster  fire  ,  xu  yuxian  .  his  pinterest  board  is  here  ,  i don’t  have  a  full  amazing  wc  page  but  i  do  have  some  wc’s  beneath..  so  if  u  jus  wanna  stick  around  for  that  i  won’t  blame  u  bc  otherwise  this  is  just  a  Wreck .   (    i  literally  just  had  to  search  up  my  muses  name  bcs  i  forgot  it  but  i  know  he’s  a  scorpio at  least  so  if  that  is  any  indication  of  how  this  is  gonna  be  then  yeah .  this  is  gonna  be  the  Worst   ) .  drop  a  heart  if  you  would  like  to  plot  ,  or  just  add  me  up  on  d*scord  no anime pls im christian#1950  for  quicker  messages  !  TW  :  mentions  of  drugs  ,  violence  ,  death ,  blood  , manipulation  . 

scanning XU YUXIAN, they are TWENTY FOUR year old and read as CUNNING but DECEITFUL, which explains why they are referred to as the VARMINT. before virtual reality HE was IMPRISONED FOR THE DISTRIBUTION OF DRUGS and living in QUINGDAO, CHINA. they’ve been said to look incredibly similar to HUANG ZITAO, but they’ve never seen it. in this new virtual world, they plan on DOING ALL OF THE CRAZY SHIT HE'S ALWAYS WANTED TO and hope to NEVER GO BACK to reality. 

*    BACKGROUND    !

tl ; dr . “ the best way to solve a problem is just to eliminate it . " in thick accented mandarin. the roar of a bike kicked to life with exhaust pouring out of the tailpipe and the low graveled hum as it idles way past midnight. charcoal ashes and heavy-lidded eyes. teeth stained red from marlboro's and split, bloody lips. baseball bats through car windows, the scrape of a bic as it lights. the smell of cigarettes burned deep into veins. the drag of a knife light across a throat. knuckles blooming purple pressed into nose bridges, a smile with a pair of pliers knocking against porcelain teeth. THIS vine. 

so as formerly stated this is yuxian, the worser half of the xu siblings. disruptive and dangerously reactive to any sort of aggression, he's adapted to a reality reliant on violence and force over patience and rationale. he's an overall shitty guy, with some even shittier habits. street smart and instinctive, his world works in harsh turns and bared knuckled fists. 

dropped out of high-school.. was one of those ‘lunch is my fav class’ kids except he got dragged 2 school by the ear when he was younger and then people just. stopped giving a fuck  ! 

so he did what most boys do in big towns with no proper parental guidance: raised a little hell, drank a lot of alcohol when his liver was barely formed, fixed bikes and engines, and beat up a few rich kids who looked @ him the wrong way. speaks like every mf villain in an anime ever. over-enunciates vowels and suffocates his consonants. acts like the stray he p much is w parents as shitty as his. 

the xu family had earned themselves a nasty reputation in the community they lived in. they're tough, they're intimidating. they do things their way. xu’s speak with their fists and their knives and their brass knuckles and their bats, not known for thinking out their actions before acting out. violent. horrible. the worst People™. 

yuxian’s parents owned and operated a dim-lit, greasy restaurant in the heart of their community, once used to deepen the family's pockets as they sold some choice off-menu items, they were offered a deal by a rich family that bought up their block when yuxian was around 15, selling their enhanced drugs imported from europe behind the grime-coated counter. yuxian saw the $$$ and didn’t think abt how risky it would b, or that they’d be the ones caught red handed if they were ever raided. being able to label himself as a drug dealer just made his reputation in the community go up.. and he was livin la vida loca 

along with working as a drug-runner, he liked to fancy himself as something of a debt collector, making sure to "follow up" with anyone who hopes to evade payment to the family. weapons of choice include a baseball bat to the kneecaps and automatic knives. has he actually hurt anybody ?? absolutely Not. he a puthy ass bitch... but don’t say that to his face unless u wanna end up like that ‘what are u gonna do? stab me? guy who then.. got stabbed 

basically yuxian will do whatever it takes to get what he wants and to survive. he never considers himself a bad guy; he considers herself bold where others find him brash. he thinks that he's tough where he's really just a brute. he's never a bully, it's never unjustified, but if he ever is he doesn’t think much of it bc he’s never gonna change , ygm ?? 

he ended up in prison when he started selling drugs to the rich family’s only son, who lbr, became quite a decent friend to yuxian. the son in question had a bad side - effect to the dodgy drugs they were dealing and died of cardiovascular complications. worst thing is that the last memory xian has of the world before virtual reality is waiting for his parents or siblings to come visit him at but being stood up. next thing he knows he’s in a world where his freedom hasn’t been taken from him and he can. he’s Extremely Bitter, and very Chaotic, my guys. so watch out

*    PERSONALITY   !

honestly and truly, at the end of the day, yuxian is not a good friend to have. xian is not friendly. he will never say the thing you want to hear as opposed to how he is feeling, he'll never sugarcoat anything, he'll never be a listening ear. encouragement and support don't exist here. he is fickle and fair-weathered and will use and use and use until there's nothing left to give. 

self-serving and self-invested to his core, he cares so little it's essentially nonexistent for anyone other than himself. not even his family, given the circumstances. he is opinionated and reactive. volatile. if someone is looking for an influence in their life that will give no fucks and encourage even the smallest whispers of an impulse, yuxian is The One™. 

every bad influence every mother's warned about, everything you know you should say no to: that's her. he has nothing to lose and lives his life accordingly. those in his periphery, he encourages to do the same. respect and admiration are not easily earned. he needs to be impressed. the grander the debauchery, the more points earned. but of course, don't try too hard.. bc that’s corny and he can sniff someone simply trying to impress from a mile away. 

still, to those that he's aligned himself with and chosen to befriend – xian can be loyal the way a snake is to a pack. his trigger-haired temper and baseline defensiveness makes him a good rabid junkyard dog to have in any corner. loyalty is mostly reserved for those who benefit him or to those who serve his best interest – contrary to popular belief, he's not entirely stupid. but definitely has been called a bimbo a minimum of five times in his life. 

simply put, he's a thug. his family has terrorised residents and he hasn't fallen too far from the tree, reaping the benefits of everyone's worst expectations. he's vindictive, manipulative, short-tempered and callous. he'll go to extreme lengths – which often include coercion via intimidation or violence – to get what he wants. he has little regard for other peoples' safety, well-being, or feelings. he lives to ruin lives; not in that fuckboy-esque i'm-going-to-steal-your-gf-and-ruin-your-social-life kind of petty bullshit. he IS a fuckboy but that’s besides the point.. 

every action is based on gut-impulse, acting purely out of unfettered emotion without thinking of what the consequences might be down the line. just pls hate him bc he really deserves it. 

speaking of Love.. with a reputation that followed him from a few years into high school for being tht guy who makes u feel good abt urself then leaves u on read, he's learned to embrace it and accept that people think he just can’t commit. xian is not good in relationships, he doesn't quite know how to show affection in a healthy way. he gets possessive and jealous and easily poisons everything from the inside while trying to sort out the subconscious overbearing fear of this person realising how shit he is or actually realising they’re worth more than his half-assed attempts at affection. so instead he keeps it at an arm's distance before it gets that far. 

*    WANTED CONNECTIONS   !

bad influence ( somebody he is corrupting essentially ) friends who like to crash parties / slum around bars  perhaps people who he knows from before and were aware of his ugly reputation ?? idk this is gonna be an area only open to a few but if they ever lived nearby or in the city where he did then it’s a possibility  ! friends who like to smoke weed behind dumpsters people who he can con  someone who tries to see the good in him but beneath the dirt there’s just more Dirt enemies / frenemies violent low-lives who he can connect 2 on an emotional and physical level fwb / one-night stands / some sort of violent dislike in personality which in turn results in sexual tension  ?

#virtualintro #why do i never have tags why am i like this #i think the last time i had fully functioning rp tags was like 2014. no lie

[saidbyes-blog]

( FRIEND OF GRANT'S ) ebony harrison ( 24 / she/they ): demigirl & friends who seemingly clicked despite emotional distance, and acquaintance of mallory's. ( nina nesbitt ) ( PACE / 20+ / SHE/HER )

hello ! so, i’m typing this up straight after acceptance ( lmao, talk about eager ) so hopefully anything i inevitably forget, i can add between now and when this’ll actually be posted, so you actually have some decent info to work with ! but i’m pace ( which is obviously an alias but,,,, pls just call me pace ! ) and my pronouns are she/her ! and moving on to the one you actually wanna know about... 

—– ❀ okay, so !! as you can see above, ebony is a friend of grant’s ! on the surface, they seem to just ‘get’ eachother, but of course ebony is completely oblivious to who he really is and what he’s capable of. however, because ebony isn’t the most open and uhh,,, Not-Closed-Off as people, it kind of works ? in a,,,, neither of them ask too many questions kind of way ? it’s mutual, y’know ?she kind of sees him as a guy who’s Not Like The Other Guys ( while lowkey a voice in the back of her head is like ALL GUYS ARE LIKE THE OTHER GUYS ) and they just seem to Understand eachother. but ebony can be a sceptical little fuck, and she’s generally just Wary in general sometimes, but she also wants to believe that some people are good and their intentions are as they seem and it’s Pure. even if she EVER got creepy vibes from grant, she’d either be like CREEP EVIL NASTY BYE SEE YA or convince herself she’s making it up because of relationships with people in the past. but ofc, the worst part is that he’s never given her any reason to think grant is anything but just a nice, charming guy who’s maybe a little pretentious and quiet but that’s basically the worst thing about him, and if it were to happen now, she’s in too deep for it to be a red flag. yoikes. but we all know that to everyone else he just looks like a,,, Nice Guy. either way, he’s a friend, and their lack of actually being as close as they may seem isn’t that weird for her ( which i shall explain in a different bullet point bc this is long ! )

—– ❀ she isn’t a complete plum, and won’t turn a blind eye forever, but in the recent months/so far, she’s come to grant’s defence, thinking that anybody who’s pointed the finger at him is a) unoriginal and b) has clearly never met him. she thinks it’s cruel and unnecessary. like, her pov is that he lost his girlfriend, who told the story of what happened/was going to happen to her, and it’s as simple as that, in a ‘why would mallory write about that otherwise’ kind of way. she’s applying logic to it and i’m like oh,,, honey,,, you sweet summer child,,, plus, grant’s manipulative ass is looking all kinds of charming and innocent and whatever. HOWEVER, things slowly unfolding and eventually ebony beginning to question things ! yes pls ! internal conflict !

—– ❀ however, ebony also briefly vaguely knew mallory ! she attended a few of her yoga classes ages ago, and it’s a complete coincidence that ebony knew the both of them. if/when grant ever mentioned mallory to ebony, the name wouldn’t have clicked, and since she never met her outside of the classes, it took her a while to click why mallory looked so familiar when everything blew up after her death. it kind of weirds her out that someone she knew was murdered, and that it never clicked that Grant’s Girlfriend was the one who taught those yoga classes, but it’s just a complete coincidence ! 

—– ❀ TW FOR ABUSE MENTION: ebony hasn’t read the book, and doesn’t plan on it. she might one day if she’s feeling impulsive and self destructive, but because of the subject matter, she’s avoiding it. it had nothing to do with being grant’s friend ( even though most people would probably question if it’s the Moral and Ethical thing to do, that doesn’t even cross her mind -- she’s not the most moral of people tbh ) and has more to do with the fact that she’s been in an abusive relationship in the past, herself, and she’s just like............nope. ( / end of tw ! )

—– ❀ she didn’t grow up in new york, and has only called it home for for a few years. but she also travels a lot, and is very flaky, and can disappear for periods of time just to show up announced a few weeks later. it’s not weird for her to drop off the grid for a bit ( sounds safe, ebs ) and it’s not weird for her to ditch social circles and local hangouts in general and just ghost, and she’s also lived in several different states across the country. she cannot commit to anything ever, including places. it’s actually odd that she’s been in new york for so long, but she loves the energy and the spirit of the city. and it’s massive so if she tires of a certain spot, she can drift elsewhere ! plus.........plot convenience. 

—– ❀ sometimes she might feel a little out of place tbh ! she’s not an academic and she definitely didn’t come from money, and doesn’t have an abundance of it now, either. she’s a bartender, as that’s always her job when i play her lmao, but i might give her another too but i’m still flipping back and forth so..... tbd !

—– ❀ TW FOR DEATH: a bit of background: she was born in california to amelia robinson & david harrison, a young couple who hadn’t been together all that long when they found out they were expecting, but were madly in love nonetheless. david was completely devoted to his daughter, but he sadly died when she was seven. after his death, some hard truths to swallow came out about him, and her already distraught mother was even more heartbroken. life was pretty rough after his death and her mother couldn’t really cope anymore and became someone that ebs ended up not really recognising, and she became kind of cruel. she’s since forgiven her mother for who she became and therefore how she then treated her daughter, but they’re not close. ebony left cali for a few years after turning seventeen, and when she returned at twenty, she found her father’s broken watch, which she sometimes still wears now. it looks out of place on her thin wrist, especially since the damn thing doesn’t work, but she likes it nonetheless and refuses to get it fixed. in ways like that, she can be,,, a little pretentious ( again, why her friendship with grant works ) and while we’re on the subject of that..... ( / tw ends ! )

—– ❀ her personality is a little messy. she can be very........difficult ? especially as a friend ? though she’s kind-hearted and forgiving and can be very gentle, she’s also temperamental and vague and selfish. she doesn’t mean to be selfish, but she just is. it’s,,, probably infuriating to some people ? as well as the fact that she’s very easily misunderstood due to being hard to understand. yet she also doesn’t like people making the effort to try and understand. yet also wants someone in her life who does understand her. like.........she wants something, but won’t let anybody make the steps to get the thing she wants ? like.............jfc, ebs. she also cannot deal with anything, and it’s not uncommon for somebody to think that everything is going fine and they’re getting on with her great, but then shit hits the fan and the real things happen and she’s like !!! bye !!! so, again, she’s a bit of a flight risk right now. bc like...... well, a murder’s a pretty big thing, my dudes. but also, in her mind, one of her friends is going through some Big Stuff what with his girlfriend being “murdered by her ex” so although most people would be like “gosh golly i should be there for him” there’s a part of ebony that’s like “cannot............deal...............want.......................to yeet.........” but because it’s his Trauma to deal with, it’s easier for her to stay. for example, if something happened between herself and grant that was mutual ( no matter what it was ) that caused angst, that’d be more of a reason for her to Yeet because it directly effects her ? if that at all makes sense ?

—– ❀ quick thing about gender and pronouns !! gender is messy and complicated ( to her ) and she accepted that long ago, but she identifies as a demigirl. her pronouns are she/her, HOWEVER she really appreciates when people use they/them when she hasn’t explicitly stated her pronouns to somebody. she just ,,, thinks it’s the respectful thing to do, but it also makes her feel Valid. she mostly identifies with the gender she was assigned at birth, and tends to present very femininely, but that doesn’t make her any less nb, y’know ? and she doesn’t like people,,, forgetting that she’s Not A Woman ? a lot of the time she’s worried people won’t see her as being nb and even her nb friends she’s sometimes convinced will just forget she’s Not A Woman ?? however, she’s okay with sometimes being referred to as a girl, but always on her own terms. like.......her mobile header literally says ‘sad girls club’ but like..... on her own terms, y’know ? so tldr: if we could pls refrain from referring to her as like ‘the woman’ or ‘the girl’ in threads, that’d be greatly appreciated !

—– ❀ some extras if you want to see/read more about the goblin: stats, playlist, pinterest, aesthetic, old drabbles*, old about/drabble. she doesn’t have a full bio, as the last one i wrote ended up being over 7k words and honestly.........who has the time

* if you click this one, please be aware that trigger warnings apply for abuse, as well as vague/tiny mentions of pregnancy.

extra connections !!! if u want !!!! idk !!!

—– ❀ friends from out of town ! if anybody is from anywhere else in the u.s outside of ny, or they spent a lot of time somewhere else, they totally could’ve known eachother a few years ago. bc ebony has lived in several different places, i can probably wiggle things around and make it work no matter what state they’ve lived in !

—– ❀ friends ! as you might’ve gathered from the rest of the intro, ebony can be a little Difficult, but she’s still kind at heart, and can be soft, and thoughtful ! so, friends that have no problem with her, friends who call her out on her bullshit, friends who she’s ditched in the past, friends she parties with, friends who have tried to Fix her, friends she trusts more than most, etc etc ! as the great sutton foster once said, anything goes !

—– ❀ fwb/hook-ups/flings/exes ! whether they’re things of the past or kind of ongoing, it’s pretty open ! ebony likes people of any and all genders, and ( not dissimilar to mallory, actually ! ) has no problems spreading her love around. which is basically the beating-around-the-bush way of saying she has a lot of sex with a lot of people, and i support her ( ... eh, when it’s healthy ) but one night stands, friends that have no problem keeping things causal, people she dated for a while, something that started casual but Feelings happened and it’s messy, all kinds of stuff is good to go !

—– ❀ people who were also in the yoga classes mallory taught at the time ! it would’ve been a while ago but if the Yoga Peoples would’ve been there back in the day too then perfect !

—– ❀ grant’s other friends ! people who met through grant ! we all have that friend we met through a mutual murderer, right ? or someone who eb met through grant and they can’t fucking stand eachother ? someone she met through grant but then shagged and now it’s awkward ? people who were actually friends with eachother first and one of them introduced grant to the other ? people who she only met at mallory’s funeral bc they were both there to support their murderous pal ? having the two of ‘em meet unrelated and then find out casually like oh shit u know my good bitch grant ? wild ! all kinds of shit !

—– ❀ roommates ! what are the realistic chances of a group of roomies all knowing either the gal who got murdered or her boyfriend ? slim as fuck but plot convenience !! maybe two or three roomies ? ny’s expensive and ebony isn’t a rich gal !

—– ❀ tbh though i also really love just.......... throwing the characters into a situation and seeing how things go, and having people meet for the first time and stuff, but i also love pre-plotted and intenser stuff, and messy/complicated plots work really well with eb ! i love all kinds of things, i’m down for w/e. while we’re on connections though, i tend to suck with plotting and i’m sometimes a little slow with ims, but i just want to make that Known so it’s not taken personally or anybody thinks i’m not interested anymore or anything ! i’m definitely replying, i promise !

okay so if you read all of this, you’re a saint and greatly appreciated ! apologies for the rambling ! feel free to drop by if you’d like to plot or anything like that ! ps. pls enjoy the fact that i scheduled this while watching the ted bundy thing on netflix, bc it tickled me. bit too fitting huh lads. 

#minehqintro #❀ — ʜᴏᴡ ɢᴏᴅᴅᴀᴍɴ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɪ ᴀᴍ ﹙ooc.﹚ #so fun fact i had this scheduled bc i was p sure i wasn't gonna be around #and yet.......here i am...... #available for posting in Real Time #HELLOOOO

[crimes-and-gelato]

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for a patient under heavy dosage of anaesthesia to have temporary side effects on them like: no brain to mouth filter, short amnesia, blindness, overly emotional, etc. It gets quite insane sometimes.

Bucky’s been working as a nurse for seven years and he’d view these occurrences as normal, even when he’s more often victimised by this so called ever-present Human Crazy Reaction to Substance, as Clint would put it. But he didn’t expect that the famous Tony Stark would be prey to this as well.

Well, that’s interesting.

He arrives in the room after Colonel Rhodes, Tony’s best friend, called for him when Tony wakes up.

‘How are you feeling, Tones?’ Bucky hears the Colonel asks the genius. ‘Don’t worry. Barnes is on his way.’

‘Like –’ Tony starts but stops when he sees Bucky entering. ‘Well, hello there, gorgeous.’ He winks. Fucking. Winks.

‘Are you okay?’ Bucky asks worriedly and scans the other man’s face for anything out of place. He even goes to investigate the IV.

‘I am now,’ Tony answers, dripping with sensuality and smiles up at Bucky.

On the other side of the bed Bucky can hear Jim’s frustrated groan.

‘So, tell me, gorgeous, do you have a name or is it Angel?’ Tony continues, ignoring his best friend and giving Bucky a suggestive once-over. ‘Cos you sure look like one.’

Sure the whole flirting isn’t new because hello, genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist Tony Stark here. Only that it doesn’t feel like Tony’s merely just dallying.

Bucky turns to Tony’s best friend with a silent question as to how this all happened. But of course, side effect. And Rhodey’s only reply is his own confuse What the fuck is happening face.

Since, the other James is of no help, Bucky puts it into his own hand to confirm his theory.

He occupies the empty chair next to the bed and says, ‘Tony, don’t you remember? It’s me James your –’

Tony interrupts him by putting his good finger against Bucky’s lips, shaking his head a bit. ‘Baby steps, darling,’ he murmurs. ‘I’m Tony, your future over-a-cup-of-coffee date, because I have a feeling you like coffee. And how fortunate that I love coffee.’ He adds another charming smile.

Bucky’s taken aback, alright. All he manages to do is stare at Tony with disbelief. He doubts the engineer can bullshit him and Rhodey this much.

‘Would you look at that?’ Tony continues, unconscious to the growing incredulity of his best friend and Bucky. ‘We already have something in common. Interesting, isn’t it?’ His face breaks out into another smile. And for a moment Bucky can’t help but be reminded how gorgeous Tony is. ‘It’s like fate.’

He should really shed some light on Tony. But Bucky’s too busy being blinded by how radiant Tony’s smile is. And it’s physically, mentally, and emotionally impossible to ignore something so majestic.

‘So, what do you say, honey bear?’ Tony wiggles his eyebrows with a sly smile. ‘How about we go grab that coffee right now and I promise to walk you home after and maybe try to steal a kiss or two.’ He pauses and looks at Bucky thoughtfully with those huge, soft, brown eyes. ‘With your consent of course because I am down for that.’

In all honesty, Bucky’s waiting for the genius to suddenly pull the rug under him and yell ‘You’ve been Punk’d, James.’ For as much as the surreal-ness of the whole thing is, it’s above what he had been expecting.

Bucky directs his glance back to the Colonel once again, hoping for some aid with the situation. Only that Rhodey’s too busy silently snickering and recording the whole of Tony’s monologue with his phone, probably for blackmail material in the future.

He sighs tiredly and in defeat. ‘Uhmm… I don’t think coffee would be a good idea, doll.’

‘Why not?’ Tony asks with a pout. ‘Is it me? Was it something I said? Because if you want to take this slowly… that I can do as well.’ He smiles hopefully, only it’s not as radiant as the one from before.

Taken from experience, Bucky knows that fragile smile, having his own insecurity to battle with. It’s not hard to notice when you’ve looked closer.

‘It’s not that,’ he assures quickly, not wanting for the unpleasant smile to settle on Tony’s lips any longer. All Bucky meant of the sentence is to point out that a cup of coffee – a date, really – is out of question because Tony’s currently in the hospital and about to undergo surgery. He isn’t able to stop himself from reaching out on Tony’s good hand to dampen whatever insecurity that had lingered.

Tony stares at their hands, the small smile on his lips softly turning into something more genuine. And Bucky counts that as a win. Not even bothering to pull his hand back.

‘Hey, I know this all seemed too fast, but you’re just so beautiful that I can’t help myself,’ Tony explains tenderly, his past bravado coming back with each word. ‘And you seem like the type to give nice hugs and cuddle. And that right there is the standard for me.’

‘Of course, it is,’ Bucky agrees sarcastically, rolling his eyes, even. The fond smile tugging on his lips ruins his plan to mock.

‘And sass as fuck, too.’ Tony chuckles, amused. ‘You’re certainly the man for me.’

If Bucky’s cheeks turns slightly red it’s not because he’s blushing. It’s basically anything but that. He catches himself before the blu—before it can go any further because he has responsibilities in hand.

He’s a professional for crying out loud. He clears his throat and turns back again to Tony’s best friend for help. And the Colonel isn’t really planning on helping because it seems like he’s even miming for Bucky to continue playing along.

The black man’s eyes are full of mischievous glee as he endures to film Tony and Bucky’s interaction.

Bucky lets another long-suffering sigh because these two are bunch of ridiculous idiots. Not that he’s going to say that outloud to the Colonel’s face. Nope, he still likes to continue living, thank you very much.

‘I don’t think you understand the situation, sweetheart,’ he says, on the verge of spilling the truth to the genius.

Tony looks confuse for a second or two before he says, ‘Of course I understand perfectly well. I’m a genius, remember? Five PhDs and all that.’ He smirks and winks. ‘I understand very much how I’m irrevocably attracted to you, and honestly, if it won’t seem like a rude thing to do, I’d grab you right now and kiss you.’ His eyes gazes at Bucky’s lips at the mention of the deed and unconsciously licks his lips.

No one should blame Bucky for mirroring Tony’s action, because good god does the man had the most attractive lips he had laid eyes on. Full bottom lips that would be so great to bite on and pull and tease and lick.

Now, Bucky can’t stop staring at Tony’s lips. All sense of professionalism gone. He is so fucked.

‘But, unfortunately, the laws of our land prevents me from doing so before getting to know you first,’ Tony continues, eyes back on Bucky’s own, holding equal sincerity and mischief. ‘Because I would love to get to know you. And maybe even marry you.’

‘What?’ Bucky’s caught off guard once again. He blinks rapidly as if trying to unsee what he has heard, which is such a ridiculous anatomy reaction.

The other James in the room snickers not-so-quietly because he’s an asshole apparently.

It’s not Bucky’s fault if the Colonel’s fit of giggles triggered him to glare at the military man.

‘I mean, I’m definitely not letting you go after all your amazing qualities,’ Tony states. ‘Although, I have to warn you that I may not be the best husband.’

There’s another sad smile on Tony’s mouth that Bucky is so tempted to kiss away. Or maybe punch the person who had created the engineer’s insecurities.

‘I’m sure you’ll be perfect, doll,’ he assures him and grazes his thumb softly on Tony’s knuckles.

‘Are you really agreeing to marry me?’ The way that Tony’s eyes lit up could have powered the whole hospital. And that’s saying something since it’s a big hospital.

Bucky takes it as another win for him. Or it could be actually the drugs that’s causing the emotional imbalance in Tony’s system.

‘Damn! I’m one lucky son of a bitch.’ The genius is grinning from ear to ear. ‘No take backs, okay?’

‘I call dibs on being best man,’ Rhodey announces, deeming it the only time he wants to be helpful.

‘Definitely, platypus,’ Tony agrees, turning his head to his friend like he’s only remembered him there. But his eyes doesn’t stray long on the other man, his attention moves back to Bucky like the nurse had hung the moon and the stars and all the other planet in the solar system. ‘Is it settle then?’

Not that Bucky will say no to the proposal with Tony’s awful big, beautiful eyes on him. Who will even deny those eyes anything?

‘God, you’ll look amazing in an all black tux.’ Tony rakes his gaze over Bucky, already lost in his fantasy of the nurse in the tux and his eyes suggest that he’s not far from thinking of Bucky out of the said tux as well.

And honestly, Bucky doesn’t mind being out of the tux as well. Not that he’s going to tell Tony that.

‘I mean, you do look amazing in this…’ The engineer gestures vaguely to Bucky’s scrubs.

Bucky chuckles at that. ‘And I already know you’re handsome in a suit.’

‘You betcha,’ Tony agrees and throws another charismatic smile. ‘I do have the perfect white Armani suit with black lapels in mind. It’ll be a sunset wedding by the cliff with lots and lots of fairy lights and all the cheesy romantic stuff. Maybe candles, too.’ He suddenly pulls Bucky’s hands and kisses it, making Bucky not-blush once again. He sniffs on the warm skin and moans quietly. ‘Hmmm… Sandalwood scent, maybe? You smell like one. What do you think, cupcake?’

What does he think? He can’t, because Bucky’s brain had short-circuited upon the touch of Tony’s soft lip on his skin. And that low moan? That shoved every logic thoughts in his brain into the gutter, because hearing that noise from Tony Stark pulls a Pavlovian reaction out of him.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to jump into the bed with Tony and hear those mewling sounds whispered into his ears.

And then there’s that warm look on Tony’s face again, all directed on Bucky. Tony’s open concern on what Bucky wants.

‘I can’t fucking wait to marry you,’ Tony confesses affectionately, and softly squeezes Bucky’s hand.

Bucky swallows heavily because he’s scared he might say something stupid like how he feels the same because that would be insane. But deep in his heart he wants to say yes, knowing a day will never come that he will not be able to deny this generous, beautiful man anything he will ever ask Bucky of.

‘It should be one hell of a coffee cup, sweetheart,’ he jokes instead.

‘I promise,’ Tony vows solemnly.

————————————————————

————————————————————

Epilogue

It’s been two weeks since his surgery. And Tony’s healing up all well. The only thing that still hurt is his pride because his husband and best friend are little shits.

The thorn that wounds him is Rhodey’s video of him while he was high as fuck on drugs before his operation. It’s already been on their secured group chat with friends, no thanks to JARVIS because even his own child betrayed him. A travesty.

‘It’s not funny anymore,’ he complains.

‘Come on, doll.’ Bucky kisses his temple soothingly. ‘You know it is.’

Tony only pouts and glares at his husband when Bucky doesn’t even have the modesty to hide his amuse chuckle on Tony’s expense.

‘You have to thank Odin, Thor, and all the gods on Asgard that you’re pretty because I’m still mad at you, or else you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week,’ he threatens mildly, as if he can sleep without Bucky next to him.

‘Thank, Odin, alright,’ Bucky agrees, and pulls him into a side cuddle, making sure he doesn’t bother Tony’s still healing leg.

And Tony wants to reprimand Bucky’s patronising tone. But his lips are busy being kissed by his wonderful and menacing husband.

Fin.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781986/chapters/36718377

#winteriron #winteriron fic #tony/bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #non-powered au #nurse bucky #patient tony #fluff

[moonmothmama]

ok. so. The Princess Bride. i read it yesterday.

and right up front, before even a review, i’m gonna go ahead and list everything objectionable in the book that i can recall. please don’t take the length of the bullet pointed items to follow as an indication that the book was wildly problematic and offended me at every turn; it wasn’t and it didn’t. but there were some things that made me go: 😑 or 😒, and here it all is, presented with context, before anything else, because to be honest, i didn’t expect any of it. the film is relatively spotless, which is pretty rare for that era, and if any of you are thinking of reading it, you could do with being more prepared for this than i was.

first off, racism. two passing remarks. one isn’t even in the story proper; it’s in the first whole long intro bit from the author/narrator. that takes some explanation, i suppose: like in the film, the story is presented as a book having been written by “S. Morganstern,” except instead of a grandfather reading to his sick grandson, the narrator is interjecting with notes on the original text that he has abridged. the beginning is a whole long shpiel that, in my opinion, could have been significantly pared down with absolutely zero loss to the story (which! hey! the film did perfectly! go figure!). anyway, the first racist remark is an absolutely tasteless line in which the narrator pisses and moans about his fat son, making a crack about “painting him yellow” and making him a sumo wrestler. y i k e. the other passing remark is from Miracle Max (really, truly, the film version of this scene is miles better than the book version, but contains an important plot detail, so you should prob still read it, but i’ll give you the lowdown if you wanna skip). he refers to Iñigo as a sp*ck (rather bafflingly, i might add, bc Iñigo is a Spanish man... from Spain... not a Hispanic or Latino man from Latin America. so. i mean i’m certainly not an expert on slurs but... i have never in my life heard that term in reference to a person from Spain, and am virtually certain it was invented to refer to ppl from the americas) and in the same breath uses an objectionable term for a Polish person. sooo... again: y i k e. what gets me is that... these could’ve just been edited out? why weren’t they? i mean i know why but

fat shaming! see above. though to be honest, any true negativity about fatness is restricted to the author/narrator’s interjections; there are a few minor fat characters in the story and those depictions, without being too long-winded or spoilery, didn’t offend me (fyi: i’m fat). if you want the details, please feel free to message me about it.

if we can go back to the whole long beginning shpiel from the author/narrator, it’s just... eh. he comes off as kind of a jackass, tbh. not even halfway through it i found myself more than a little impatient for the story to begin, and that could be at least partly because the film spoiled me with a lovely, not annoying, not problematic scene of Granddad Columbo reading to Baby Fred Savage where no one made any racist remarks or ragged on fat kids. the basic gist, if you want to skip it, is that the author, as a kid, had this book read to HIM by his father, who was a Florinese immigrant, and nearly illiterate in English, but still labored over reading the English translation to his American-born son, who adored the book and requested it read to him dozens and dozens of times over the years, refusing to read it himself (though he read plenty of other books). as an adult, he buys his son the book, and is crushed when the son doesn’t like it. he then reads it for the first time, and realizes his father skipped over huge, boring blocks of text. he read his son only The Good Parts. so he decides to edit that shit out himself and release the abridged version he loves so much. add into that some complaining about his wife and some extra blah blah, and that’s pretty much it.

you remember the scene in the movie where The Man In Black/Westley almost slaps Buttercup for what he believes is lying? in the book he actually slaps her. not that his actions seem supported or endorsed by the text, but still, there you are. Buttercup does push him off a cliff soon after, though, so. i wouldn’t call that ‘even’ exactly but, shrug

Vizzini, in the book, has a fucky leg and his back isn’t quite straight, and he’s referred to repeatedly as a “humpback” or “hunchback” which needless to say is Not Kosher

that, as i recall, is it. i hope i’m not forgetting anything. now onto content/trigger warnings:

alcoholism. this shouldn’t be a surprise if you’ve seen the movie: Iñigo has some, shall we say, issues

Fezzik’s parents were... terrible. CPS would be all over them. spoiler: basically they emotionally blackmailed their son into fighting professionally, which they knew he hated, by telling him they’d abandon him if he didn’t

Buttercup has some kinda messed up (read: unsettling but in no way graphic) nightmares after leaving Westley when they’re found by Prince Humperdinck at the Fire Swamp, mostly involving bearing children to the Prince who she once again is set to marry

the slurs and whatnot i mentioned above

violence, obviously. nothing worse than the film as i recall.

that’s it i think. 

okay. all that said. did i enjoy the book? yes i did. a lot.

now, you might be thinking: jesus, Kathleen, after all the shit you just listed? and to this i reply: listen. there is no Unproblematic Media, so you either enjoy some things that are flawed, or you enjoy nothing at all. there is plenty of objectionable shit in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit! fucking plenty! and i love those books! and so do plenty of other people! in my own humble opinion, the good story is worth the shitty bits, because the shitty bits aren’t like, fundamental to the plotline. the story isn’t built on offensive humor or nasty, bigoted attitudes. and they’re also not the most egregious examples of Objectionable Content i’ve come across- not by a longshot. there are levels to offense. there are tiers of bullshit. this is on a far lower tier than a whole host of other things i could mention. but if any of this stuff i’ve listed crosses a line for you, i totally understand and respect that. that’s why i’ve bothered to list it at all. imo, how you respond to objectionable content is important: you don’t ignore it or excuse it, you acknowledge and criticize it. and if you still enjoy whatever the thing is, you allow yourself to enjoy it, without getting hissy or defensive with people for whom the objectionable content ruined the book/movie/whatever. 

there you go, there’s my disclaimer for having enjoyed the book. your mileage may vary.

okay. so. review time.

Buttercup is a far more interesting character in the book than the movie, for which the movie can’t be faulted all that much, because you can’t easily translate a character’s inner monologue/unspoken thoughts to the screen, especially not with the time limit that comes with the medium of film. but watching her struggle with her feelings and life choices (and... lack thereof, since her choice is between marrying the prince and being put to death, which isn’t much of a choice, even if she tries to reason it out later by telling herself she COULD have said no... and initially did) creates far more of a bond between her and the reader in the book than, personally, i felt watching the movie. also she has a great line after Westley calls her beautiful at their reunion- she says something like, ‘everyone’s always calling me beautiful, i have a mind too, why don’t you talk about that’

Both Westley and Buttercup are immature, naive, and foolish in the beginning, and if Westley strikes you as Extra Dickish, a) rewatch the film! he did act like a bit of a dick, there, didn’t he? b) remember that in the story he’s a young man between the ages of eighteen and twenty five, which in my considerable experience is the age at which young men are generally at their peak of Asshole. sorry dudes

and not that Buttercup herself is a complete peach! she deals very poorly with her emotions in general and acts kinda shitty herself once or twice. i won’t say too much lest i spoil everything that’s different between the film and the book.

Prince Humperdinck is also a more three dimensional character; still a rat bastard tho.

onto Fezzik and Iñigo.

as i have said in other blog posts, these boys are... pretty much the whole reason i sought out the book. and... jesus. 

you get all the way into the tragic backstories that were only hinted at in the film. okay, Iñigo’s backstory was more than hinted- but of course you go so much deeper in the book- and Fezzik’s was less than hinted, reduced mostly to a peek at the insecurity that Vizzini exploits and preys upon to keep him in line. not that you’d have to expend a great effort to him to keep him in line; his personality is docile and non-confrontational. truly not the slightest bit aggressive by nature. he’s also kinda clingy and needy, which is a thousand percent understandable given his childhood, and tbqh doesn’t need to be browbeaten for Vizzini to keep him on his short, cruel leash. which makes it all the more painful! hurrah! 😭

also you actually get to meet Iñigo’s father, Domingo Montoya, in a flashback, aaaand... i kinda love him. probably predictable if you know me.

anyway. tragic backstories. which further illuminate the emotional and psychological issues that make them so dependent on Vizzini, and turn them to lives of crime in his employ. poor boys! oy gevalt. sympathy abounds; i honestly don’t know how you could go through the book and not fall at least a little bit in love with this duo, whose friendship is precious and adorable and a balm to the soul that is aching from their painful life stories and unhealthy coping mechanisms. they’re each, very plainly, the only friend the other has in the world, and are constantly helping and bolstering one another. it’s heartbreakingly sweet. i think those boys will be alright as long as they stick together.

and now, the repeated theme of the book, that is presented with far less intensity in the film: life isn’t fair. which, one supposes, is true. but while the narrator’s framing of that assertion may give you the same misgivings they gave me- bitching about his fat son and his less than ideal relationship with his wife- you can also step back and appreciate it as a wee pearl of wisdom. life is often unfair, but that doesn’t mean it’s altogether bad or that you can’t enjoy it. idk, that’s my attitude, man. 

i could talk about the ending here, but i won’t. at least not too much. not to spoiler-ish-ly. if you don’t want to know anything about the book’s ending at all, feel free to not read the last bit here, except for the very last lines which are bolded.

ready? yes? no?

...

the ending to the book is different than the movie. there is a more philosophical, open ended conclusion than you could really get away with in a movie. at least this movie.

just throwing it out there: i believe in happy endings. ones in real life. but i kind of disagree with the author a little bit, in that i don’t think happy endings necessarily have to be perfect and unblemished to qualify as happy endings. that may be the way “happily ever after” is generally presented, but to me, “happily ever after” means, maybe some shit happened, but none of it was completely devastating, and in the final analysis, life was satisfying. that’s the kind of real life happy ending i’m aiming (and hoping) for. this might sound vague but i hope it’ll make sense if you read the book.

if you wanna do that, btw, i read it for free online at allnovel dot net.

#kathleen reads the book #the princess bride #william goldman #book review #ish? thing? #blogging on my blog

[ryderreturns]

Sai and Sorry’s || Hummelynn

Who: Kurt Hummel and Ryder Lynn

When: Wednesday evening, October 10

Where: Undique Stadium

Why: Kurt gets interrupted at the gym by Ryder looking to patch things up between them. 

What: Trigger warnings for violence and mentions of jail

Kurt continued to kick the punching bag in the training room. His Ron Dorff sweatshirt was rolled up to his forearms, and his slate gray track pants from Nike clung to his sweaty skin. His Camper Lab white sneakers squeaked on the floor. Kurt breathed through his nose. He had already knocked the bag down before, however it was tied together with magic and had stitched itself back up. Kurt was curious by the magic since it would be useful for his clothes however thinking about magic again brought his frustration forward. He had been fighting all week to get his anger out and nothing was working. In fact, it was only making Kurt feel isolated and annoyed with himself. He aimed another kick and the bag knocked off of its chains. Kurt stretched his leg back as it pulled itself together. He knew he was getting stronger. There was something in him which was beginning to grow. It was a question if Kurt could control it. He was done for the night. Picking up his bag, Kurt sipped on his water bottle.

Ryder arrived at the gym and pushed the hood off his head, headphones still in his ear. After the Yankees lost to the Red Sox last night, what he needed was a punching bag. Though he knew he’d end up in a training room by himself to work on some new illusions. His eyes swept over the room and spotted a familiar face, as usual. Ryder hadn’t talked to Kurt since their text conversation, but he knew he needed to. If Blaine could forgive him, maybe Kurt could. Pushing past the twinge of discomfort in his gut, Ryder walked over to the man. “Hey, Kurt,” he called softly. “Could I talk to you for a second? Please.” His eyes darted to the bag, noting how it stitched itself back together. Huh, that was smart. He focused back on Kurt.

Kurt was getting ready to go when he thought he heard someone calling his name. Who is it? Kurt turned to see Ryder Lynn. Oh, it's you. The desaturated red hoodie wasn't too bad, however Ryder needed some tips for shoes. After sweeping a look at the boy's fashion choices, Kurt fell back to his disdain for Ryder. "You have a second. Tonight's a Shondaland marathon night." Kurt put his bag over his shoulder and was already walking out the training room. If Ryder had something to say, he better say it before Kurt left.

Ryder felt himself shrinking under Kurt’s gaze, feeling less than in front of the confident guy. One second, shit, okay. He followed behind Kurt. “I’m a piece of shit who said the wrong thing and was a terrible friend. But I apologized to Blaine. Showed him the whole conversation we had, told him what I meant to say, like how he saved my life and I just - I fucked up. So I’m sorry to you too.” He sucked in a breath after his deluge apology.

Kurt was holding the threshold of the door as he heard through Ryder's apology. "Yeah, you are," Kurt replied, looking back at Ryder with an unchanged and unfazed expression. "And Blaine's not. So. What did you mean to say, because from my perspective, you wanted me to tell Blaine's brother to help us out because me 'saving Blaine would work as something.' Your words. As if I would use something which near-threatened Blaine's life to put pressure on his family." Kurt was itching to punch something again. "I don't know if you know what's it's like, having people in your face think they can get something from you, because they think they saved you. That if you don't say please and thank you, you're not worth saving. And the kicker? It's your friends looking at you like that. So tell me, what exactly are you sorry to me for? You're the one who recommended we use the very person you said had saved your life." Kurt's fingers gripped the door's frame tighter.

Ryder recognized his own words and winced just hearing them back. “I shouldn’t have said anything like that at all. It was idiotic and hurtful. I know that now.” He looked away for a moment before squaring his shoulders to face Kurt. “I’m sorry to you because I hurt your boyfriend and triggered you, which was shitty. If I could have longer than a second, if we could go someplace a little quieter? I can tell you the rest, how Blaine saved my life.” He knew the likelihood of being given the chance was slim, but at least Kurt was still standing in front of him.

"Triggered me? What are you talking about," Kurt was picking apart Ryder's argument one by one, "and how does Blaine 'saving your life' have anything to do with your apology to me. Go ahead. Have more than your second. You look like a person who needs time to figure crap out." Kurt was crossing his arms and looked at the empty training room minus him and Ryder. It was cruel, Kurt knew. However it satisfied something. This place isn't quiet enough? "Where's a place you have in mind?"

Ryder thought back to the texts. “You asked if I knew how traumatizing the event was. I assumed I’d triggered you,” he explained. Or maybe he was just triggering anger. “I’m trying to explain why I said what I said, the bullshit thought process behind what shouldn’t have been said at all.” He looked beyond Kurt to the gym and then past him to the training room. “Okay, training room it is.” He walked past Kurt into the empty room and set down his duffel bag. “I got arrested in Siberia after I attacked a man on a full moon. They were ready to execute me - neutralize or whatever the fuck bullshit term they use to write away slaughtering LN. Then he shows up.” Ryder mutters a spell, Show the man who saved me that day. Suddenly a wall of prison bars jumped up between him and Kurt. On one side stood Ryder and then an illusion of Cooper appeared on the other side. It doesn’t last long as Ryder waved it away before he got caught up. “I thought the only reason Cooper saved me that day was because I helped Blaine escape his dreams. I assumed it was only my connection to his brother that kept me from getting shot again, taken out back like a dog and left to be buried when the snow was gone.” He cleared his throat. “I was wrong about that. I was wrong about Cooper,” he said. “So when we were talking, I said the wrong thing. That your connection to Blaine would get you to Cooper like it had for me. That you should even go down that route. So I’m sorry for suggesting that. I’m sorry for how I fucked up.” He took in a breath. “That’s it. And that’s what I told Blaine. Just shorter ‘cause you have Shondaland.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes, was Ryder referring to the kidnapping in January. Kurt had told Ryder not to change how he talked to him if Ryder learned about it. Naturally it was a request not many could fulfill, wasn't it? Kurt walked behind Ryder, hearing Ryder's story. Kurt was not expecting to see jail bars. It reminded Kurt of his own stint in the prison when he was taken in by the cardines. "What the hell, Ryder?" Kurt shouted, stepping back from the illusion. "Warn someone before you do that. Seriously, this is why I freaking hate all of you. What's wrong with normally talking about things?" Everyone just used their magic without ever thinking. It's why Kurt was starting to dislike himself. He needed to get his powers under control. Ryder's story only confirmed Kurt's suspicions. So, Ryder gets stuff wrong about everyone and runs on his fear. Kurt huffed, tired of the apologies. "If you're looking for me to go back to how things were, you're going to be disappointed. I don't do forgiveness easy. I don't forget either. You can apologize but I'm watching you. I'm watching to see if you meant your words. That's what you do with people who screw up your trust."

“Sorry,” Ryder winced. “Illusions come easier when tied to my emotions.” But he should’ve warned Kurt. Just another fuck up to add to the list. “That’s more than I expected to be given,” he nodded. “Words only mean so much.” He reached a hand back to scratch at his neck. “Sorry if I cut off your workout too.” He looked back to Kurt, “Actually, I was gonna train for that tournament if you wanted to? Totally understand if you don’t.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and stared straight at Ryder as he said, "Make that your new ringtone." He sighed, wondering if anyone in this school, minus a few, knew how to apologize without tying it to their tragic backstory. Everyone sought understanding for why they messed up. Not knowing the actual way to do an apology was to understand how they hurt the other person. Kurt pressed his lips together. Did Blaine know how he hurt Kurt when he said sorry over those voicemails? Or was Blaine saying sorry for Kurt to understand his actions? Kurt could call to confirm any time. However, his night was ruined. "Yeah, words only mean so much." Kurt repeated. He gave Ryder a once over and smiled sardonically. He placed his bag on the bench and nodded, unzipping it. Might as well get this restless energy out. "I should be training with my socius, however we've decided we're going to get reassigned. If she falls on her A-line dress, it's not going to be because of me." Kurt reached into his bag and pulled out his blunt-tipped sai.

Ryder was surprised Kurt didn’t just walk out on him. So he walked back in the room to stand in the center. “Makes sense. I’m trying to get a friend to change her SP too,” he said. “Would you rather I don’t use illusions on this?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow as he was wrapping bandages around his palms. "You're trying to get your friend to change her SP? The bond thing?" Kurt wondered if it had to do with the Marley and Blaine's Celebrity Crush thing he saw on tumblr. It looked like minor drama not worth Kurt's time. "If only you guys fought harder for the glister thing," Kurt muttered under his breath and he got ready. He was spinning his sai around his wrists and gave Ryder a pithy look. "What, you want to go easy on me? Just use your magic. You're training for the tournament, aren't you." Kurt was saying as he took his place on the platform. He didn't know how Ryder fought, however a quick jog through his memories reminded him that Ryder was a water witch and an illusionist. He half-crouched, putting his arms out in a defensive position.

Ryder nodded and brought up his magic circle as he spoke words to start churning waves of water beneath the floor. "If I were her, I would want to be with someone I could trust when shit hits the fan." He raised a brow when Kurt got angry with him for the offer. "Alright, just asking," he shrugged, taking a fighting stance.

RYDER: 1d7 = 3

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 5

Kurt frowned at that, and got lower to the ground. I can't even trust Blaine to be next to me when something bad happens. His sai raised up when Kurt flipped them around. It was all the warning he gave Ryder before he sped toward the other boy and hit his arm with one strike. Kurt backed off after impact. He would be reserving his strength and seeing what Ryder could do.

Ryder started to gather up water around his fists. Kurt moved a lot faster than he expected as he shot forward. Shaking out his arms, Ryder readied his next attack, starting forward and attempting to strike out with a punch to Kurt's side.

RYDER: 1d7 = 4

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 6

Kurt pressed his weight to his right and jumped out of the way of the punch. Close combat? Kurt thought and defended himself by striking his sai up to catch Ryder's arm when it was exposed by the punch. Water droplets sprayed onto the ground when his sai collided with Ryder. Thinking on his feet, Kurt shuffled the sai around Ryder's fist to trap it from another move.

Ryder winced at the second strike to his arm. With his wrist stuck in a sai, he couldn't go for another punch. Instead, he tried for an illusion of vines going around Kurt's ankles to pull him back.

RYDER: 1d7 = 7 (ILLUSION attempt)

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 9

Kurt smirked, seeing the world around his eyes shift around. Another illusion? Kurt thought. Before Ryder could say the words, Kurt wound up a kick, freeing Ryder's wrist before he struck the boy on the stomach. Kurt didn't want to dislocate anything.

Ryder got the breath knocked out of him with that kick, thinking it was worth it to free up his wrist again. Again, he pulled water around his fists and up his arms like two giant boxing gloves. "You're fast. Dodge this," he said then brought his fists together for a water cannon.

RYDER: 1d7 = 5

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 8

Kurt could see the water aiming for him easy. "And you're open. Thanks for the warning," Kurt replied, rolling out of the way. He used the momentum of his roll to spin out and throw a sai at Ryder's hand. It appeared Ryder mainly used his hands for his spells. After throwing the sai as a distraction, Kurt rushed him, faking a move and swiping Ryder's feet with a kick to knock the other down.

Ryder had a second to recognize his mistake and used the next second to watch Kurt's sai coming for his hand. In the next moment, he was on his ass and holding a sai. He laughed as he got up, covered in the water from his own spell that soaked into his clothes. As soon as he was back up on his feet and steady, he brought up his left leg to kick out at Kurt's shoulder.

RYDER: 1d7 = 6

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 9

Kurt didn't think it was funny to get wet, however he had a feeling he and Ryder were two different kinds of people. Kurt allowed Ryder to regain his stance and saw the kick coming at his shoulder. It was an over-extension of Ryder's leg and simple to counter. He grabbed Ryder's foot like grabbing the last shoe at an upscale boutique store during their price slashes, and gave Ryder extra spin by also twisting around so Ryder would lose balance and fall.

Ryder hadn't landed a single attack against Kurt and it was his pride that hurt more than his body, especially when he almost got sent sprawling again. He had to jog off the momentum and catch himself on his hands, but he didn't fall on his ass. It wasn't a win, but it wasn't a complete loss. This time, rather than trying to charge at Kurt, he took a defensive stance instead and let the other man take his shot first.

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 3

RYDER: 1d7 = 5

Kurt could see Ryder was adapting. Good, finally something's kicking in? Kurt spun his sai and wondered how good Ryder's defense was compared to his offense. Kurt spun his sai to an offensive position and rushed in, aiming again for Ryder's hands. A simple hit-and-run technique was what Kurt was after.

Ryder only had a moment to react, but seeing Kurt charging with his sai, he used that momentum against the other guy. Stepping out of the way, he sent a punch into Kurt's ribs before getting back again. Okay, maybe I don't always have to be on the offensive.

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 5

RYDER: 1d7 = 7

Kurt felt the punch, however it was only a minor graze. He could feel the blood rushing in and knew it would be moments before healing would start. Testing his stance, Kurt aimed for something back, maybe the shoulder? Before he could count another move, Kurt lunged and tried to bring his elbow down on a muscle he was taught could send a jolt down the arm. Unfortunately for Kurt, he missed.

Ryder kept his eyes focused on Kurt's arms again, ready for the next attack. It was only that focus that allowed him to move out of the way and get another punch sent out to Kurt's stomach. His brow was furrowed and lips pursed in concentration. Thinking he had the upper hand now, Ryder attempted to sweep a leg to knock Kurt down.

RYDER: 1d7 = 4

KURT: 1d8 +2 = 9

Kurt licked his lips after taking another blow to the stomach. He could feel something rustling underneath his clothes, and felt the cool and dry feeling of leaves over his skin. His body was reacting by itself. Kurt leaped, letting Ryder swipe his leg across air, and used this moment to grab Ryder's head for stability to knee him right in the middle of his chest.

"OOMPH," Ryder huffed out the air knocked from him. He shook off Kurt's hands and stepped back, bringing up his arms. "Uncle! Uncle." He caught his breath, using his sleeve to wipe sweat off of his brow. In the next moment, he spoke the spell to dry off both of their clothes from his water magic. "Nice to know my chances suck for that tournament," he chuckled, shaking his head. He held out a hand to Kurt. "Good duel."

Kurt landed in a crouch, one hand touched the floor for balance. He rose up, and pulled his arm back. Normally he would follow up with a punch across the jaw however Ryder had given up. Kurt didn't need to go for an overkill. Kurt's clothes were back to being dry after the spell, and Kurt deadpanned, "Can you bring detergent next time? If you're going to wash my clothes, at least do it right." He wondered how the tournament would go, however at least Kurt knew something about how Ryder approached problems. At the offered hand, Kurt shook it back. He didn't know if it could be considered a duel if all he did was beat on Ryder almost all of the fight, but he replied back, "Good duel." He was unraveling the bandages and going around to pick up the sai he had thrown. Once collected, Kurt said to Ryder, "Where did you learn to fight? On the streets?"

Ryder's face was blank for a moment before he laughed again at the joke. "I'll try to remember that," he said. As Kurt went to pack his things, Ryder sent back the water from the fight down to the water below. "Yup. Nothing fancy about street fighting," he mused, looking up as he walked over to collect his bag. "Just a lot of boxing. What about you? Where'd you get your moves?"

Kurt raised both of his eyebrows and had a small smile. Ok, however I'm not kidding. I'm going to bring detergent next time. At hearing Ryder did boxing, Kurt tsked his tongue. Boxing would work in close quarters. Last resort. "It shows," Kurt said, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I had training when I was about done with middle school. There were classes at a community center near where I lived. It's called kobudo. Mainly weapons training. I picked up the sai as my favorite, but we trained with staffs, tonfas, and nun-chucks too. As for moves? Experience." Kurt left it at that. He was heading to the door and gave Ryder one last look. "Seriously, your apology? I'll see it to believe it. Some people don't have blind faith."

#para: Kurt #nimtraining #hautekurture #tw: violence #cw: mentions of jail #t: para