#&then just now had a variant on the home invasion dream that involved a specific strangerwho was apparently lurking outside with a vendetta

[sydmarch]

I never even found it follows to be like at all scary as a movie & yet elements of it have worked their way into my dreams recently

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!! 

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish. 

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                           [~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love?  - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

  - What the fu-

 Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

 Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

 “You dye, you buy.”

 Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

 He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

 Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

 But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

 But…

 Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

 Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

 A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

 Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

 It was okay.

 They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

 It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

 Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

 Okay. Everything was okay.

 [~*~]

 Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

 The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

 It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

  CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!  

 [~*~]

 The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

 Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

 And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

 “Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

  [~*~]

 Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

 A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

 [~*~]

 Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

 He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

  It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

 He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

 Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

 ‘The First Step’.

 Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

 “Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

 “That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

 He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

 “Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

 “Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

 “I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

 “How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

 Silence followed his words.

 “Pat?”

 “What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

 “Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

 “Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

 Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

  “I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

 “You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

 “We’re on episode 19.”

  [~*~]  

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

 A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

 Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

 Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

 Or…

 Navy blue.

 Oh.

 He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

 Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

 This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

 No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

 Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

 …If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

 Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

 Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

 “It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

 A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

 “Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

 “Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

 “I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

 “He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

 “A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

 “Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

 “You should go sleep, then.”

 The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

 Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

 “I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

 Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

 Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits?  Does he even remember about him?

 Highly improbable.

 “You can call me Lo.”

 Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

 “Lo? Like Lowrance?”

 “Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

 Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

 …

 ‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

 ‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

 ‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

 His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

 ‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

 ‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

 Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

 ‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

 …

 “Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

 Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

 “Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

 “Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

 “Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

 “Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

 “Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

 Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

 “Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

  “Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

 Then he understood.

  His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

 “Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

 “Hello, Prince.”

 Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

 “I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

 “I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

 “Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

 Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

 “Make me, I dare you.”

 “Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

 “Eleven years.”

 “We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

 “Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

 “Yeah, I agree.”

 Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

[dreamersrazor-blog]

Some Advice on What You Can Do When You Feel Hopeless (right now, by yourself)

Well, the first thing should be “Don’t look up lists of what to do about it.” I learned that today. Everything I found on such a search made me feel worse, somehow. No joke, one suggestion was literally “fall in love,” like that is something one can just do. Whatever, let’s move on. Coarse language warning.

Feeling like the world is just having a grand ol’ time shitting in your mouth nonstop is possibly one of the worst sensations a person can feel. Sorry for the imagery, but it’s my best way to describe it when decent-folks terminology just falls short at explaining to someone how downright insufferable everything is in that moment.

When I feel hopeless – and I mean legitimate, absolute, can’t-be-bargained-with hopeless – the only thing I want is for something, anything, just one fuck-mothering thing to go right in my life, just for a moment, and give me something to smile about without immediately kicking me in the balls afterward.

Unfortunately, that outcome is rare for me. If you’ve been drawn to this post, then I’m guessing it’s rare for you, too. I can’t say I have a miracle cure for feeling like your life is a train wreck where all the cars were filled with eggs, live ammunition, and orphans; but I do want to share the coping methods I’ve been using when Google just offers me suggestions that, were I able to act on, I wouldn’t be so hopeless in the first place.

For the record, I promise that statement does mean more than just that absurd “fall in love” tip above. It just seemed like a good note to start with. An important aspect of this post is to assume that you basically only have an internet connection and a few minutes to spend on yourself. I do list some examples with things that you might not own, but they are largely secondary to the points made. Just as well, they don’t involve anyone else.

 My first suggestion might sound counter-intuitive, but it helps me for some reason or another. I have some theories on it, but we’ll get to that. The suggestion is to subject yourself to something sad on purpose, within certain “safe” boundaries. Now, what does that mean, and why on Earth would we do that? Well, hear me out.

This can be a movie scene, a story, a picture – whatever works for you. In my case, it’s a couple of songs. The key thing here is that it’s a… healthy(?) kind of sad stimuli. i.e. something that can make you feel things, spring up some (manly) tears just a bit, but not necessarily a song to cut your wrists to or whatever; or something that you’re overly emotionally invested in.

For me, one such experience is the song 1,000 Words from… from whatever Final Fantasy game it’s from. I’ve never played the game, the lyrics don’t apply to me in any way, but the song is a rubber mallet straight to the feels for me, regardless. While it might conjure up some (extremely masculine) misty eyes, it’s a different sensation than the self-loathing, hopelessness, and general give-me-one-reason-not-to-die-right-now sensations that drive me to it. I find myself in a better overall state of mind after totally-not-crying to it for a few minutes when I’m at my lowest.

The potency of this method can be diminished if you draw from the well too often, so to speak. (if it worked for you to start with, anyway.) My therapy song won’t work near as well if it’s something I listen to frequently or have heard a gazillion times already. The aforementioned tune did absolute wonders for me the first few times, but after hitting that one a few too many times, I had to move to another one to achieve the same effect. Still worked, though.

 While it might seem like a “bash thumb with hammer to cure toothache” kind of solution, I think it’s a less-invasive method of self-harm. I’ve never intentionally hurt myself, so I don’t personally understand the mindset of cutters and such. Having known a couple, however, a common purpose of self-harm seems to be a sense of control. I feel that my sad-time-song has that same effect of inflicting a normally-undesirable sensation on myself; but it’s something I choose to do, something I have control of.

The thing is, it’s an emotion that doesn’t make my current situation worse, which is something sad stimuli tends to otherwise do. Hence my emphasis on it being a “safe” source of feels. My advice isn’t just “make yourself sadder on purpose,” it’s… I guess I’m saying “make yourself a different kind of sad.” I think. I don’t know.

For example, another such feels-y moment for me was the very end of the movie Logan. The thing X23 does right before the credits. You know the part. Thing is, that was a leaky-eyes moment for me, but purely on a symbolic level. I’m not specifically a fan of Wolverine, or the X-Men in general; so that bit, to me, is a “safe” sad.

In contrast, the opening minutes of the movie Arrival hit really close to home for me. Dwelling on that one doesn’t produce feels, it produces legitimate sorrow. This is an “unsafe” sad, because it makes these negative emotions worse; or adds to them.

Now, I get that not everyone can immediately think of something in the “safe-sad” category for them. If that’s you, I’d just suggest keeping an eye out for such sensations going forward. Something that can tempt your face to leak, but not because it reminds you of your own troubles or struggles.

 My next suggestion is something of an extension of the first. A spinoff, if you will. While I certainly encourage you to do anything (within reason) that you feel might improve your mindset, I know a mistake I inadvertently made quite often was to indulge in things that would inadvertently make it worse.

This is meant more or less as a direct disclaimer to the common advice of “engage in your hobbies!” or “make time to do something you enjoy!” because frankly, that can be dangerous in some cases.

To borrow terminology from myself, there are basically “safe” and “unsafe” variants to the good things as well. Identifying the difference can make a huge… difference. This part gets a bit sob-story, so I totally understand if you want to skip it.

The gist of it, though, is that when trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming shittiness of your situation, you must be mindful with what you turn to. Some things that you might think are beneficial or helpful might actually be harming you under the surface, and determining what “good” things to avoid can be the key to lessening the weight of hopelessness.

 Anyway, my bit is as follows; with some examples of things that I thought were helping, but were, in fact, making it worse.

I love metal music; and on a good day, I can listen to it all I want without issue. The thing is, in my darkest hours, watching the Little V Mills cover of Heavy Day, despite essentially being my favorite thing ever, does more harm than good to my psyche. Perhaps I’m just slow, but I dug myself into that pit several times before I made the connection as to why such an otherwise feel-good endeavor would backfire on me when I needed it most.

I played guitar for a few years – it was easily one of my favorite things to do for a long while. Because of [medical] I haven’t been able to play it for many years now, and will likely never be able to play it again. Even though I love the song and Little V, listening to it in bad times is just a subconscious jackhammer to my dead guitar dreams.

“That’s the easiest connection in the world to make” you might have said just then, but please understand, my guitar dreams died long ago, and I haven’t otherwise been bitter about it. I don’t watch a musician play something and consciously think “oh, if only I could still do that!” or reminisce lovingly about all the one-man shows I used to put on in the kitchen for my mom and dogs. (shut up.)

That whole chunk of my life is honestly a non-issue at this point, as far as my conscious thoughts go. Beneath the surface, however, those wounds are quick to reopen when you’re grasping at anything to distract you from how terrible things are at the time.

I love the shows RWBY and Death Battle, but watching them in low days just hammers home my failure as an aspiring animator. I rely on ASMR videos to sleep at night; but when every last ounce of shit in life is hitting fan blades I didn’t even know existed, I find it better to deal with insomnia than for the lovely ASMRtist ladies to be a frustrating reminder of how painfully single and lonely I am.

Now, I know that when you’re in a bad enough spot, you can look at anything you do in that sort of self-defeating light and use that to make your hopelessness worse. As of writing this, I’m actually in such a spot. Fun fact: being reasonably proud of my passable grammar and wordsmanship without any tangible recoil from it is the entire reason I’m writing this tonight.

So, explore with caution, I guess. If you feel overwhelmed by finding a self-defeating aspect of everything you do, then just do nothing. I’m not saying to quit your job or whatever, but sometimes the best answer is to not seek answers, if that makes any sense.

In the “do nothing” category, I find Youtube channels like TED and TEDx Talks quite efficient at filling my brain with something neutral to listen to; depending on which subject you click on, of course. That conveniently segues into…

 Third suggestion: Learn Something Irrelevant. As with the other two, this one is highly subjective; but hey, so is this entire topic. Another coping method I’ve come to rely on is to just space out with a bunch of useless trivia I have absolutely no need for.

The speeches given on those TED channels are a great example of this. They’re nice and long for maximum time absorption, while slotting neatly into the “mildly amusing” category most of the time (for me.) The big asterisk on this is to not invest yourself into something that does draw your active attention.

That probably didn’t explain much. Another example: I love reviews. I don’t know why. I can listen to a professional-sounding reviewer talk about pretty much anything and be at least marginally entertained by it. Perhaps you don’t feel that way, but give me a second.

I watch Anthony’s Customs in such circumstances. He reviews collector’s action figures and such. This is a subject I have roughly zero interest in, but that’s what makes it good for me to learn about in bad times. Watching reviews for something I do care about, say, video games I can’t afford or movies I can’t go see, just makes the crushing hopelessness worse. (I know, duh.) This ties back to the second suggestion – ingesting a review for something I desire just shines a spotlight on my inability to obtain it.

This is probably more of a simple distraction tactic than anything specifically helpful, but that’s not to say it doesn’t work. Giving the brain something else to chew, it will stop poking at the ulcers in its mouth. Imagery!

 Fourth and final suggestion, to be taken with a very large grain of salt: Embrace the Bitterness… Carefully. I’ll go ahead and put that “please hate responsibly” or “scowl in moderation” disclaimer up front and center. It’s a fairly obvious tip that I’m sure many people already act on. Maybe this is more of a warning for how to do safely.

If you’re like me, raised on the idea that negative emotions and mindsets were bad for you, then the act of feeling bad in your bad situation probably makes you feel worse. I felt like being in a bad mental place was a sign of weakness on my part, like I was failing for feeling such things.

Think back on those Saturday morning cartoon moral lessons – things like how the bully is only hateful because he has a broken home. A tragic villain, but still a villain. No, being mean to others isn’t the right way to handle your stresses; but just like the other entries above, there are “safe” alternatives.

I suggest watching channels like CinemaSins, which comedically picks apart every little thing “wrong” with movies, or looking into reviews for films or products you know are bad, just to revel in someone else’s failures. An easy suggestion would also be an RPG or something where you can choose to be the bad guy.

Heartless? Probably. Healthy? Maybe – in moderation. The guideline here is to get your catharsis from something that won’t actively hurt someone. I’m not saying to find a way to justify being an asshole, I’m just saying to find a way to come as close to being an asshole as possible.

The reason I gave those examples is because they’re as close to a victimless attack as you can get, I think. When your pent up bitterness explodes in the voice chat of Overwatch and you tell your incompetent teammate the exact number and volume of bags of dicks they can eat, that dingus Genji main might have deserved it, but he or she is still a victim, and you’re still being an asshole to them.

Meanwhile, bathing yourself in the glorious misteps of something like Mass Effect Andromeda is a reasonably healthier way to throttle that hate-boner, for a number of reasons. For one, content creators know full-well the risk they take in putting their work out there, and are usually prepared for at least some level of backlash. Second, being a passive consumer of such media, such as watching a highlight reel of ME:A’s awful facial animation, is much better for you than actively calling someone mean and hurtful things.

Therein lies my warning. As my circumstances and mental state got worse, so did my already-lacking social skills. If anger and catharsis-by-proxy are solid tools for dealing with your anguish, then use them; but be mindful of their cost. Putting on a fake smile and small-talking your way through your interactions is a horrible way to live, but the alternative is letting your problems become toxic to others around you.

That’s not to discourage reaching out to friends or family for help, but a central aspect of this post was the idea that you might not have such a network. It still applies to the randoms you meet online, though. It can do wonders to vent that bitterness and resentment; but do so in a safe, controlled manner that won’t cost you existing relationships or sour the day of someone you don’t know.

 Such were my suggestions for coping with hopelessness. I can’t offer much in the way of finding new hope to actually cure the underlying problem, primarily because that depends immeasurably on everyone’s individual trials; but also because I haven’t gotten my own ducks in a row, yet. All I can do is share what works for me and… well… hope that you might benefit from it.

 Stay safe out there.