#I already have fucking panic and paranoia disorders and shit

[abyssalaerlocke]

cw: domestic violence

Time to be permanently extra fucking paranoid, jumping at every sound, and not getting any rest.

Couple hours after mom left town for the week, neighbour's usual yelling and screaming turned violent, had to call the cops.

I'm directly across the hall from her unit, so very easy for her to watch and listen as they confirmed I'm the one who called and got my account. But because no one would answer the door, eventually they left (it did seem they were gonna check her balcony from outside, but I didn't hear anything)

So now I'm worried if my other neighbour's okay, and if I'm supposed to call the cops back if she indicates she's home (balcony several stories up is the only way she could have left, haven't heard a peep since the cops showed up). As well as, y'know, worried she'll try to break into my apartment for reporting her.

[industriallyinsecure]

How would yandere La Squadra go about their darling being extremely paranoid... maybe even an abduction survivor? Like, they won't drink or eat anything that's not sealed or prepared by them, they won't go anywhere without telling a loved one or friend where they are and where they're going. They only use their own car or commute with ppl they are close with, their door has several locks and bolts, the windows have special locks and they have a hidden weapon on their body and know how to use it.

I apologize for the long wait!

Sorbet and Gelato don’t care. Gelato is audacious enough to keep testing your boundaries by inserting himself into your life as mere coincidences. Sorbet is the only one keeping you safe, in a strange way. He constantly has to talk Gelato down with kisses and promises of taking you soon. Even if you pulled a weapon on them, there’s two of them. Your odds wouldn’t even be that great with just one of them pursuing you. The only problem is orchestrating the whole ordeal just right. With the constant paper trail you left, it would be difficult to just snatch you up and make you disappear off the face of the earth so suddenly. They have to strike in the golden hour, which, much to Gelato’s displeasure, means they have to leave you alone. When you stop frantically updating your friends and family, Gelato kicks in your door and Sorbet restrains you. Of course, when you wake up in an unfamiliar place with two men sandwiching you, the carefully crafted walls you put up to protect yourself from your past abduction come crumbling down. Gelato feels the tiniest bit remorseful and tries to kiss it better, but nothing works and they end up having to knock you out. Sorbet scolds Gelato for his hastiness while they cuddle on the chair across from the bed where your sleeping body whimpered and twitched. It would take some time to help you rebuild from your trauma, but the Milk and Milkless Dessert couple weren’t known for giving up easily.

Risotto is the same way. It’s part of the reason he was drawn to you. After researching about a hit and discovering they had kidnapped and held someone for ransom unsuccessfully, he felt it necessary to check in on the victim to see if there were any connections between them and Passione. More accurately, to see if the victim would cause any problems for Passione. When he first seeks you out, he’s not surprised about your demeanor. But something about your mouselike timidness drew him in. He knows he has to measure his steps carefully if he wants to get close. There’s a lot of methodical planning involved to make sure he doesn’t accidentally scare you off. He attempts to insert himself in your life subtly, appearing in places you go but not engaging you. When he was finally bold enough to seek you out in your own home, he finally saw the extent of your trauma. Metallica made it easy to bypass the many locks on the door, but it was a chore to do. Finding you waiting behind the door with a gun drawn was certainly a surprise, though. Seeing your perpetual eyebags and frowning features so frightened made his heart ache. It’s too bad you were close enough for Metallica to work. He’s positive you would’ve put up a good fight. But for now he’s focused on getting you tucked in. There was no reason to whisk you away when it was clear you were smart enough to be scared of the world outside.

Ghiaccio always has to be in the right, no matter the situation. He doesn’t care that you have trauma that makes your day to day hell or that his constant presence makes you wary and weary. His needs and desires come first at the cost of your comfort. He only compromises on his yelling when he notices he makes you flinch. Other than that, he’ll pester you nonstop. It’s a mystery how he is always where you are without fail. At a certain point, you refuse to leave your home because of it. Ghiaccio isn’t understanding of this and nearly breaks down your door and sends you into a panic attack. Seeing you scream and shield yourself with your arms makes him hesitate. What breaks him is when you plead for him to leave you alone and to not hurt you. It’s a rare moment of clarity in his obsession addled mind and he tries his best to calm you down, even though his touch makes you flinch away. In the middle of his attempt to soothe you, he ends up covering you in frost. The effects of White Album make your reactions sluggish and weak, but you have plenty of time to consider how you got here as he hefts you over his shoulder and buckles you into the passenger’s seat, wrapping the seatbelt around you several times.

Melone honestly has an Obsession of the Week™️, which more than half the time is just for scientific purposes. He likes to psychoanalyze random people he sees, just for funsies. You, on the other hand, were far too interesting to just dissect mentally and move on. He tuned in when you asked for a drink that was from an unopened case of products, and his interest only heightened when he saw you take a very calculated path through the lounge area. He noted you made sure to move in the blind spots of the windows and cameras before nestling safely in a corner where you could see the whole room, all the while peeking over your shoulder. At first, he thought OCD or some other disorder. It made sense, but he watched you timidly flick your eyes around as you uncapped your drink , sniffed it, and took a tentative sip. Melone is already mentally logging this information, creating trials and assessing variables as you sip away at your beverage. Of course when he went to pursue you after you left, he didn’t expect for you to pull a knife on him and threaten him with wide eyes to stay away. The reasons you gave were conjecture, though. He could see that you weren’t quite sure of your choice to confront him, the minuscule shaking of your hand only proving it. It’s laughably easy for him to disarm you, even if his thievery skills have gotten rusty from his transition from petty thief into assassin. After his civil approach, by his own standards, you're toted off to a nearby safe house where he could keep you while he arranges for your accommodations elsewhere.

This is a problem for Prosciutto. He and Formaggio are the most social creatures of La Squadra (Melone is well… social in a different way). Prosciutto loves to be seen. He likes going to the opera, to have someone on his arm dressed almost as finely as he was, to go to art auctions, to go out to a restaurant where the prices were high and the portions low. So your paranoid personality, while understandable, poses a problem for the fantasy he made within five minutes of seeing you shuffle around the market in what he would describe as “bum clothes” (aka sweatpants and a baggy shirt). He notes that every step you take is deliberate, every move calculated and determined beforehand. With his years of stealth training, he trails you for a while to fully observe you. One thing that stuck out to him was that you were always in public places, among crowds with just enough people that you would be missed if you were swept off your feet by a dashing blond in a finely pressed suit. Prosciutto is a fixer. He lives to nitpick and improve and fix everyone he cares for, and you are no different. Soon you’ll find yourself in the company of the handsome blond you’ve seen around town, whether you like it or not. He takes it upon himself to interject and speak over you when it comes to certain things, stating how you should’ve handled a situation. Your paranoia is soon taken advantage of, with Prosciutto feeding into it by isolating you and forcing you to depend on him. Not that he minds. He loves to help people improve. On his terms, of course.

Illuso takes it as a challenge. He’s very reserved as well, and when he observed you for his own interest, it was kismet. Illuso is great at playing the long game and letting his opponent’s psyche get the best of them. With your ‘weakened’ mind, he could play around with you as much as he liked. Tapping on your (barred)window, the mirror, moving stuff. Your own personal curator of hell. He never once feels bad, but he wondered why he didn’t stop playing poltergeist after his usual week or so. Soon he found himself just…staring at your permanently furrowed brow and frowning lips. Maybe if he isolated you in a place where he knew there wouldn’t be anyone, he could get something out of you? Secretly pulls you into the mirror world and observes you. He lets you sit in the comfort of assured solitude before making his grand entrance. Of course he didn’t expect to get punched in the gut and to have a knife pulled on him. He might boast that Man in the Mirror is the strongest stand, but stands are pretty much useless when you’re taken by surprise by someone you underestimated. For a moment, he can’t decide if this makes him like you a lot more, or if you deserve a kick to the gut. Maybe both.

Formaggio firmly believes in the ideology of “take no shit, give no fucks”. He may be social, but he’s not exactly socially intelligent. Case in point, he didn’t understand that his social butterfly-ness might be a huge turn off for some people. So he’s pretty much at a loss for what to do. His previous flings loved it, but you, well, you wanted nothing to do with him in any capacity. Formaggio was supposed to have been scouting his hit, but he was mostly checking out the Milfs, Dilfs, and Pilfs (parent) that passed. And when his gaze finally fell on you, sitting by yourself, he had to swoop in. Similar to how he reacts to Narancia, he’s very affable when you pull your weapon on him and threaten him with very serious eyes, even joking with you playfully when you ask him what he thinks he’s doing. I love him dearly, but Formaggio is a dumb man. He can’t read social cues and probably just thinks you’re playing hard to get when in reality you have trauma. But since he hides all his trauma and self hatred behind jokes, it takes him a while to fully realize that you’re broken. And what do you do with broken things? Why, stick them in a doll house and provide for them, of course!

[clearlynotjanus]

Whumptober: Day Two, Talking is Overrated

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Ever since Remus returned from his isolation in the Imagination, things between Janus & Virgil have been strained. Virgil can’t deny that he finds Remus attractive, & Janus doesn’t seem to have a problem with this, but there’s a lot lurking just under the surface of his feelings that makes being with either of them far more difficult than it should be. CW: Dubious consent, panic attacks, anxiety, crying, blowjobs, deepthroating, graphic description of sexual acts Word Count: 5160 Genre: Hurt, Smut, Angst, Whump Rating: Explicit Ships: Dukexiety with a dash of Anxceitmus Author Notes: Soooo you’ll notice that this is very out of the realm of the stuff I usually write. I’m giving everyone a warning right now, this is dubcon & it’s all hurt, no comfort. If you’re familiar with my writing, right about now you’re asking who the fuck is this because this sure isn’t Andrew-Moceit-Fluff-Anderson, & you’re right! This is extremely out of character for me! But sometimes you just gotta hurt the anthropomorphized version of your panic disorder to get through some shit, you know? lmao. Maybe that’s relatable, maybe you’re wondering if my hitaus has turned me into a psycho; who knows! But anyway! I’m using Whumptober to explore some...less than savory topics. So honestly, a big fat “Don’t like, don’t read” / “Dead Dove Don’t Eat” on everything I post this month. But if you’re into it! Hell yeah! I hope you enjoy! :D

Taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @ranboo-but-booran​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1​ @cosplayhanna​ @rizzyluke​​ @all-panic-nodisco​ @remy-the-lemon-berry​ @their-royal-fiensishness​ @xravynsflamex​ @imma-potatoo​ @obsxdiannn​

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Hearing the television downstairs, Virgil decided that four in the afternoon was as good a time as any to leave his room for the day. With ghostly silent steps, he descended the stairs - only to stand awkwardly at the foot. His eyes settled on Janus who was staring at the flickering screen, a gloved hand bore the weight of his head with a cupped cheek. Virgil’s heart rate thrummed in his ears like an approaching war drum, nearly drowning out the indecisive show clips. The irregular pattern of noise began a pressure between his eyes as he strained to keep up with alternating sounds of unfamiliar shows.

“Oh is that o--” Virgil started, recognizing a voice finally with several ounces of relief. His head turned as Janus clicked past a rerun of The Twilight Zone.

He blinked, pausing on the following station as he looked up at Virgil with furrowed brows.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Virgil said, shaking his head. With long steps he quickly retreated to the kitchen as Janus shrugged and resumed his mindless clicking.

Virgil collapsed against the kitchen counter, a palm splayed heavily behind him as though his life depended on it, the other gripping his stomach. Breathe, he ordered himself sternly, tightly closing his eyes and drawing in a breath he struggled to keep quiet. In, 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Out, 1, 2, 3, 4 -- 

“Virgil, since you’re in the kitchen,” Janus called, hardly louder than his speaking voice, but the sound made Virgil jump regardless. Instinctually a hand slammed over his mouth to keep the inevitable squeak on his tongue. “Would you be a darling and make us some tea?”

“Y-yeah! Sure!” He said, peeling his palm off his lips. As Janus remained silent, Virgil sighed heavily. 

He repeated his breathing exercise as the water boiled, again as he dumped a ridiculous amount of sugar in one mug and a single teaspoon in another, once more as he placed a bag of Red Rose strawberry cheesecake flavored herbal tea in one mug and a bag of standard Lipton black in the other. His hands had stopped shaking by the time he carried both steaming cups out and placed them on the coffee table. 

Typically he wasn’t one for hot drinks outside of the occasional hot chocolate in fall, but the idea of bringing Janus something without one of whatever it was for himself had always felt...off. Awkward maybe, or just weird; Virgil couldn’t say, but it always compelled him to inevitably join Janus, even if that was the last thing he wanted.

“Oh delightful,” Janus said, immediately wrapping his hands around the molten mug. Virgil flinched just thinking about touching something that hot, but Janus simply leaned back against the couch with a look Virgil could only describe as stupidly content. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled and again found himself standing there. 

Why was he always so awkward? Virgil internally lamented, wondering what normal people did with their hands. He’d been with Janus on this side of the Mindscape for four years now; had watched television and drank tea with him plenty of times. But it never felt easier. Janus put him on edge, for more than a handful of reasons; some harmful and some not. 

Fight or Flight - more aptly upgraded to Paranoia these days - in theory was necessary for something like Self Preservation. A healthy dose of Anxiety kept one vigilant about their health and surroundings; it provided information for Self Preservation to react to and plan for. On paper, they should be a smooth running machine; Virgil would alert Janus to dangers and Janus would provide the escape route. The wrench was that communication was neither of their strong suits; but after four years, Janus didn’t really need Virgil to speak. He knew his problematic little spider well enough by now.

“Sit down already,” Janus waved a hand to the open end of the couch. “Your angst is suffocating.” 

“S-sorry,” Virgil mumbled and sat on the opposite side of the L shaped couch.

“Tsk.”

The two sipped their respective cups in a smothering silence. Virgil’s shoulders ached under the weight. Should he talk? Was Janus going to say something? He stole a glance at his partner, and a sigh caught at the back of his throat at the sight. Janus sat upright, drinking his tea and staring at the television without even a furrow between his brow. Why was he always so goddamn content?

“You’re still upset.”

“No,” Virgil rushed, the sudden observation pumping adrenaline through his blood. Janus hadn’t even looked at him - how the hell had he made any sort of observation, true or not? The air around them sweetened. Janus narrowed his eyes condescendingly, finally sparing a glance at him to offer the expression. They both knew that was a lie. Virgil bowed his head, needing to look away.

“You should really know better by now.” Janus complained into this teacup, but to Virgil’s ears, it just sounded like an insult. 

He should know better by now than to lie to Janus’ face. Or maybe he should know better by now than to get upset at Thomas’ lies. But Virgil struggled to say it wasn’t the thought of Thomas lying that lurched his stomach. The words knotted his tongue and tightened his throat until even the tea wouldn’t go down.

Of course Janus knew this; knew every bit of Virgil’s simple psychology. His words were being misconstrued in that buzzing mind of his at this very moment. Even his intent from yesterday; misunderstood, which is what got them here of course. What was bothering Virgil was very easy to understand; when continuously faced with the fact that Janus unflinchingly told Thomas to lie, manipulate, and do whatever he must to get what he wants, it was only a matter of time before Virgil began to wonder if those very same morals were at play in their relationship. 

The answer was equally obvious, Janus thought, and therefore Virgil should know better by now.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed with a sigh, but the bitterness continued to strangle him, and Janus felt no need to get into the topic. If they continued pretending as though things were fine, eventually they would be, which was usually his philosophy in dealing with Virgil’s anxiety.

The crushing silence rang in Virgil’s ears despite the ease it came to Janus with. Paranoia - it was a very difficult experience and talking himself off the ledge was getting harder every day. The thought of Janus hurting him was haunting. How far would he go to get his way? The things he implied Thomas should be willing to do...were they things Janus was willing to do to him? Virgil gulped, and then jumped five inches off the couch.

“Sup, emo,” Remus greeted nasally, having barrelled down the stairs in microseconds. Virgil’s heart all but stopped as he cursed at the warm tea that had splashed on his hand with the shock. 

With no amount of hesitance, Remus flopped on the couch and forced his head into Janus’ lap. Though Janus looked generally disgruntled about the loud interruption, he still lifted his arms and adjusted to make himself available. 

“Aw damn,” Remus continued gruffly, ignoring Virgil’s flinch and discomfort as he gave a grotesque sniff to the air. “You made tea and didn’t even heat me up any bleach? Booooooooo.”

“Sorry,” Virgil spat sarcastically, scrunching his nose, “I try not to think about you.” 

“That’s not what you said last night.” Remus mocked and Virgil choked on his inhale, going red.

“Be nice, Remus.” Janus bounced his leg gently, jostling him. “You know he’s much too frigid for that in this clearly public space. I mean, anyone could walk in at any moment.”

Remus snickered, folding his arms behind his head as Janus spoke with mocking alarm. He looked at Virgil expectantly and only had to wait a second before the bickering began.

“I am not frigid,” Virgil said, blushing still.

“Prove it, Daddy Long Legs,” Remus wiggled his brows suggestively. Virgil glared, but couldn’t keep the paranoia from creeping up on him; anxiously, he glanced at Janus, struggling to keep his attention on Remus. Janus, as though entirely separate from this conversation, seemed to be minding his own business now; he took a loud sip of his tea and kept his vision trained on the television that was quickly being drowned out by their arguing.

“H-how?” Virgil asked when he realized Janus wasn’t going to butt in, immediately regretting his decision to indulge Remus.

“Suck my dick,” he said quickly like he had just been waiting for Virgil to ask. “Right here in the living room!” His hands reached for his waistband. Covertly Janus reacted; as though he had inhaled at the wrong time, he quietly cleared his throat into a cupped hand.

“No!” Virgil protested immediately, recoiling as he nervously looked towards the staircase. 

“Prude.”

“Am not!”

“Virgin.”

“That’s just plain wrong!”

Virgil’s face had gone a deep scarlet and again he regretted his words. Anger seized his throat; though he hadn’t raised his volume, his words were heated and bitter. Remus, for all his apparent disinterest as the insults were slung, just couldn’t do away with the pleased sparkle in his eyes that always came with riling Virgil up.

“Is it really now, Screamo?” Remus taunted and Virgil pushed his tempered tongue against the side of his cheek. 

“You know it is,” His words came out slow and ground between his teeth. He hated Remus for making him say these things out loud, for making him acknowledge the truths he purposefully left hidden under his bedsheets. 

“Do I?” Remus dug a finger into his ear, giving Virgil a stupid and ignorant expression. “Sorry, Cindy Lou Boo, must’ve just…slipped my mind.” He finished with a shrug that held both his hands open.

Virgil groaned and pulled his knees to his chest, slamming back against the couch in a show of edgy annoyance. He glowered straight ahead, unseeing at the window as his rage-filled heart hammered against his ears.

“See what I mean?” Janus mumbled, a smirk just barely hidden behind his teacup. “Frigid.” He raised a shoulder in a half effort shrug. 

The words cut Virgil deep, deeper than Remus’ digs had. Janus was always cold and pointed with his insults. They hit hard and lingered with murderous precision. Remus’ were fast and easy to ignore in the long run. Virgil forced himself to take a breath; his lungs expanded against his legs. This was a stupid arguement to be having. They both knew what Virgil was like in bed, which he guessed was why they liked teasing him, but it wasn’t fun. Not for him anyway. Even so, it made Virgil feel like he had something to prove. 

Maybe it was some sort of twisted aspect of toxic masculinity or something, but he couldn’t just let their jeering go. It festered in him, the need to be recognized as one of them, because these days it really was feeling like Janus and Remus were against him, which was fucked up if you asked Virgil. He’d been with Janus the longest, so why was Remus able to just swoop in and act like this? Virgil steeled himself with more deep breaths before opening his mouth.

“Talking is overrated,” Virgil started and Janus peered through the corner of his eyes, recognizing how uncharacteristic of him those words were. “If you can’t remember, I’ll just have to remind you.”

“Hell yeah,” Remus immediately enthused, a wide grin cracking his face as he reached for his waistband.

“N-not here,” Virgil rushed, desperately clinging to the cool tone he had used just a moment ago. Remus pouted and Virgil raised his eyes to insinuate one of their bedrooms above them. “Later.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine,” He bemoaned, crossing his arms and sinking back into the couch, his head colliding Janus’ lap again.

“Well then,” Janus mumbled and reached for the remote.

-----

Remus maintained a rough grip in Virgil’s hair. When his fingers had first tightly laced at the roots, Virgil had yelped and felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline prick down his spine. Now, even though Remus hadn’t let up at all, it felt mostly numb - at least in comparison to everything else. His boney knees had begun going red against the carpet, even behind the fabric of his jeans. The color was both from how harsh Remus had pushed him down onto them and for how long he’d been kneeling. His throat ached something raw. His lungs strained against his ribs. His cock struggled for friction against the boot between his thighs. 

Virgil’s subdued cries fell on sadistic ears; not apathetic or deaf ones. Remus was spurred on by how Virgil’s protests interrupted the wet sound of his cock colliding against the back of his throat. Virgil knew that of course, and it was a thin line to be riding. Tonight, the margin for error felt smaller than usual. 

Perhaps it was his interaction with Janus earlier or maybe it was the instigation this was founded on, but Remus’ grin seemed to glow maliciously down at him. The walls of his throat squeezed unusually tight, reluctant to relax no matter how many deep and even breaths Virgil forced through his nose. His hands shook against his thighs with the restraint of keeping his fight or flight at bay. It wasn’t typically this difficult, taking Remus’ cock and swallowing his violence. For all his objection in the living room earlier, the crude mockery of love that was his lewd time spent with Remus was enjoyable for him. Usually.

Tonight his body reacted like a great duality sliced a canyon in his mind; though he could feel his cock throbbing against his pants and his hips aching to press down against the rigid surface of Remus’ shoe, the familiar animal of panic surged through him, screaming danger like a mating Bellbird. Remus’ hand pressed Virgil’s head down further, his cock searching for the give that’d have him sliding down with ease. Virgil’s eyes watered; even in pain he struggled to maintain eye contact. His vision swam as he glanced between Remus’ unwavering, heated stare and the ceiling just behind his head. 

“Relax already, Virge,” Remus complained, reaching with his other hand to tip Virgil’s head back by his chin.

He whined, though the sound quickly became strangled against the obstruction. He was trying, he was trying so hard to let Remus cram himself down, but the more Remus pressed, the more obvious it became that Virgil’s throat wasn’t letting up; and the more obvious that became, the more distressed Virgil got. He was trying, why wasn’t it working? It always did, he was always able to do at least this much. If he couldn’t even deepthroat Remus…maybe they were right. Shame tightened his chest as Janus’ voice rang through his mind. You know he’s much too frigid for that…

Janus couldn’t be right about that. Virgil wouldn’t let Janus be right about that. Rallying, Virgil shifted forward on his knees, straightening his back. His crotch slid further up Remus’ boot, and despite the tears in his eyes, Virgil looked desperately stubborn. 

“Ooooh,” Remus almost sang, his voice entertained as he tugged the tuft of Virgil’s hair in his grip and earned a gargled cry. “You’re finally ready to try, Scare Bear?”

He winced; he was already trying, but it was probably a good thing, Virgil thought, that Remus didn’t realize that. It’d just make him look that much more pathetic.

With a deep breath, Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. His knuckles went white as they gripped the hem of his shirt. He forced his jaw to relax, his tongue to press flat against the bottom of his mouth. This would hurt. He steeled himself for pain. The Bellbird rioted in his ears and every other thought hazed as he pressed forward of his own volition. Remus’ hands guided him forward as his cock split through the anxious knot in his throat. The courage of determination and humiliation wasn’t enough to numb the agony. His eyes shot open and the muscles in his neck tensed to pull back as Remus’ cock penetrated beyond his soft palate and teased at the entrance of his esophagus. 

Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he moaned, his head falling back as though it was a great effort to stay standing as pleasure coursed through him. Virgil’s panic rose and no amount of nonverbal approval could prevent him from jerking away - or at least trying to. As he pulled back, feeling his lungs burn for air, he realized the real reason Remus’ hands had stayed lodged in his hair and gripped on his jaw; to hold him in place when he inevitably changed his mind. At the revelation, Virgil squirmed, his hands unconsciously reaching for Remus’ pant leg as muffled pleas wedged between the walls of his throat and Remus’ cock. Virgil struggled, his movements frenzying the longer Remus went without a reaction. He clawed at Remus’ leg as his jaw reflexively tightened. His front teeth grazed the intrusive member between his lips and despite Virgil’s misery, he attempted to keep his mouth open. Tears streaked down his cheeks and his thoughts crescendo to their steepest point of doom; he would die here.

Remus sighed and loosened his hold on the back of Virgil’s head, enough for him to slide backwards several inches until his cock rested at the back of his throat, no longer obstructing Virgil’s breath. But Virgil continued to push back, wanting to eject the horror completely. He shook his head and stared up at Remus with pleading, terror-filled eyes.

“God, Dee’s right, you’re such a Drama King. Breathe already,” Remus said with an exasperated eye roll.

The mention of Janus felt like a slap across the face. How often did they talk about him? Did they only have bad things to say? His stomach flipped and he forced his eyes closed. He already suspected it was like that; he shouldn’t act so shocked. Ever since Remus has come back from the Imagination, he was closer to Janus than Virgil had ever been. It made him beyond jealous, beyond paranoid - but could it really be called paranoia if he was proven right? 

Though Remus’ words were harsh, Virgil eventually obeyed, realizing he was right as a slow and even breath went through his nose and down to his lungs easily. It didn’t matter what Janus said about him, Virgil lied to himself. It didn’t matter if they talked behind his back. He’d prove them wrong.

“Good, now stop being such a wuss already,” Remus continued as Virgil’s panic began to subside. Little by little his deep breaths chipped away at the looming wall of his anxiety until eventually, only a line of bricks remained. 

He was fine. He did this all the time - well not all the time but frequently enough that it was pretty ridiculous of him to make such a big deal out of it. He blushed, thinking about how pitiful he must’ve looked, struggling to get half of Remus’ cock down. Embarrassment swelled and he swallowed against the feeling, closing his lips around Remus in the process. He gave a small nod and readied himself. This time, he wouldn’t be such a coward.

Remus’ hand tensed in Virgil’s hair and a flinch coiled in his muscles; but the moment remained paused as Remus hesitated.

“Pull your pants down.”

Virgil blinked up at him, a dumb look on his face as his fearful mind struggled to keep up. 

“Pants. Down.” Remus repeated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his tone bewildered. He lifted his foot which remained pressed against Virgil’s cock; the jolt of sudden pressure seemed to get the point across finally.

Virgil unfurled his hands from Remus’ pant leg. His knuckles cracked from being released for the first time in several long minutes. The blood rushed back to them as he fumbled with his zipper and button. Clumsily he maneuvered them down his thighs and below his knees enough. With that done, he looked back at Remus, wanting to just get on with this already. His hardon had shrunk significantly with his earlier pain and even thinking about getting off now made his skin crawl. He wanted to get this over with. His throat ached, his head was pounding, and his knees were raw.

“Boxers too, Spidey,” Remus said impatiently.

Virgil sighed through his nose. He should’ve seen that coming. He looked down, though from his angle he couldn’t see very far without taking Remus’ cock out of his mouth, which was very clearly unallowed by the hands holding his head still. The color on his cheeks darkened at the realization; if he took his boxers off, there’d be nothing between him and Remus’ boot. Disgust overtook him. He didn’t want to touch those things with his hands, let alone his cock.

“My shoes are clean, Sir Bite.” Remus said, tone full of disdain as though it was completely out of the realm of possibilities that his shoes were dirty. “I’m going soft,” He lamented, pushing Virgil’s head forward an inch to feel some friction, making him squeak in surprise. “Hurry up.” 

 Dejected, he repeated the process, albeit a bit quicker this time, and exposed his half-hard cock. He held it in his hand as he shifted himself back into position; spine straight, thighs separated, head tilted back with his jaw slack and lips tight - though he hadn’t had much of a choice with the latter part. Remus bent his head to the side and peered with dissatisfaction at the way Virgil refused to let his cock touch his shoe. Again he lifted his foot, pointedly pressing against Virgil’s hand as his eyes rolled to lock their gaze. Virgil’s cock twitched in his grip as Remus nearly glared at him with expectation; he resented the thing for it. There was no way such a revolting insinuation should get that sort of rise out of him…and yet, it had. His stomach churned and his nerves frayed as Remus refused to move. It was clear nothing would start or end until Virgil released his cock.

Slowly Virgil closed his eyes again, resigning himself to a very hot, very soapy shower later. He released his hand and rested both, once more, on his thighs. His cock pressed against the leather of Remus’ shoe. It felt…demeaning, Virgil thought. He especially hated how it curled his muscles with anticipation. He cursed internally and refused to meet Remus’ knowing stare. Bastard.

“Good. Now deep breath, emo.” He warned a second before he began to press forward again.

Panic exploded through him like a bullet with the words as his eyes shot open. He rushed to inhale as told in the moment that Remus’ cock inched beyond the back of his throat again. The adrenaline of fight or flight flooded his blood, electrifying his brain with the lone command to flee. But Remus’ hands and eyes paralyzed him; even if Virgil could find it in himself to move as irrational fear crippled him, he’d be prevented. He hadn’t noticed at what point he had stopped crying, but a renewed wetness began trickling down his cheeks, dripping onto his shaking hands. 

His cock hardened against Remus’ boot despite himself, the feeling of being trapped somehow translating to arousal as Remus began violating his esophagus with paced thrusts and deep groans. Virgil knew that was exactly what Remus wanted; for all his pain and dread to transform into surrender and lust. That’s how it usually went so it was no wonder his cock dripped against the leather, preparing for the moment Virgil’s desire to run flipped on its head and he embraced his instinct to fight instead. But it was so much more difficult tonight to simply let that happen. 

Virgil choked out a defeated whine, blinking rapidly as tears blurred his vision. The sound made Remus’ cock twitch aggressively; his movements hastened and Virgil gargled on his welling spit as his lungs began burning again. 

“You know what to do,” Remus grunted, gripping his jaw tighter as he plunged deep enough to press Virgil’s lips against his crotch. He could feel his Adam’s apple taut against his skin. “To make it stop hurting so much.” Virgil thought if he wasn’t preoccupied, the words would’ve sounded like a laugh. Instead they were rushed, like Virgil’s pain was an annoyance rather than a concern.

Twenty seconds had passed and Virgil started to think he was going to die again. It hurt so much, all of it, and Remus was right; there was one way to make it stop, or at least dull it a bit, but Virgil didn’t want to think about that. The idea of moving his hips to gain friction against Remus’ shoe was…outrageous, ludicrous, crazy. But His cock ached for it, dripped precum against the cloth laces for it. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. He shook his head as much as he could and choked out a wet wail. Remus clicked his tongue and seemed to shrug about it; it wasn’t his problem if Virgil didn’t take him up on the relief he was offering. 

The obscene sound of Remus’ cock pushing all the way down Virgil’s throat filled the room. It invaded his mind and seemed to be in rhythm with his heart, drowning the sound out. Ten more seconds and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Five more and his heart desynced from the even tempo of Remus’ thrusts. His pulse slowed and it was like he was standing in the living room, listening to Janus rapidly flick through the television channels again; a pressure formed between his eyes as he strained to keep up with what was happening. A dull panic nauseated his stomach. A sudden flash of heat like a desert wind beaded sweat at the back of his neck. 

Was this enough? Did he live up to the expectation now? They couldn’t still call him frigid or a prude or accuse him of being a virgin after this, right? If he held on long enough and let Remus cum like this, maybe they’d even stop teasing him so much. Virgil hoped that was true, oh, he hoped so much. This could be just like a hazing ritual; he’d pass with flying colors if he could just sit still and take Remus’ brutality without flinching. 

His thoughts became nonsensical as his body ran out of oxygen. This wasn’t a hazing ritual. This was just how Remus was. He’d never be comfortable around Janus again. He’d never have Janus to himself anymore; Remus would always be standing in the way like some twisted guard. Even in moments of peace, the inevitability of his unsettling nature put Virgil on edge. No amount of Deceit could cover the truth anymore. Thomas was sick and Remus was the proof.

As his vision went dark, Remus released his grip on Virgil’s hair. His fight or flight returned all at once as he was finally able to pull away. Falling backwards, a hand clawed at his throat, the other bracing himself up in a shaky way as he gasped and choked for air. Everything he knew about steadying his breathing had exited his mind somehow. He scrambled for ways to calm his now pounding heart; his wide eyes snapped across the room, up at Remus, across the room, up at Remus. What was it again? Something about counting, right? Panic climbed higher and higher until Virgil was sure his throat would close or his heart would burst, whichever came first would be the end of him.

Remus watched, a brow raised as he stroked his reddened cock, inches from finishing himself off. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the telltale signs of Virgil’s panic whatevers. He just didn’t understand them; why they happened, why Virgil made such a big deal out of them. If Virgil knew even a fraction of the things that went through his head, then maybe he’d have something to panic about. Virgil had it pretty easy in comparison.

“What’s with the hissy fit, Purple Heart Attack?” Remus said, voice strained with labored breathing as he closed the distance between them. 

Virgil made a high pitched sound and went to crawl backwards. He was only successful for a moment before Remus caught his hand and brought it up to his cock. Reluctantly, Virgil wrapped his fingers around the width as he was physically instructed.

“C’mon, loser, I’m almost there.” Remus grunted as he forced Virgil’s hand to move against him; eventually he began to mechanically move his arm without aid. 

Just a few more minutes, Virgil told himself, but the dizziness grew a heavy fog behind his eyes as his throat continued to clamp down on itself. His rhythm was uneven, his arm grew numb and Remus’ impatience surmounted into an agitated sound. He slapped Virgil’s hand away and took the final steps to tower over him. Grabbing his own length roughly, Remus stroked fast and hard, his sounds cresting to a loud moan of release as his eyes squeezed shut. Virgil froze, unable to look away until Remus came; his semen landed in streaks across Virgil’s face and the floor behind him.

They both panted, hard and heavy with shaking hands. It was over, but as Remus’ high faded in the afterglow, Virgil’s panic only continued to rise. With a quiet and involuntary cry, Virgil’s hands reached out, searching for a comfort his logical mind, if at all present, would have realized didn’t exist in Remus. Predictably, Remus stepped back, adjusting his pants into place as he avoided Virgil’s grip. 

“What?” He said, tone so condescending, Virgil had almost thought Janus was in the room. “It’s like you said; talking is overrated, right?” 

Virgil’s arms fell as tears burned his eyes. When did Remus get that good at cutting deep? Weren’t his insults always easy to avoid, or at least get over? Even though Remus had just spoken those words, Virgil felt them settling deep in his bones. They would haunt him forever, he could already tell.

“Right.” He sniffled as Remus turned away and headed for the door. Virgil wiped his nose wetly on his sleeve. 

Remus left, not caring that he had closed the door so hard, the wall decor had rattled. Virgil flinched at the sound and pulled his knees to his chest, which certainly didn’t help how difficult it was to breathe. He was glad they always did this in his room; he didn’t think he would’ve had it in him to stand, pull his pants up, and sink out before the loud sobs began. Equally, he didn’t know if the sobs were from anger, embarrassment, or loneliness. Maybe it was some unfortunate mix of all three. 

[seafoam-mermaid]

So siiicckkk of these health influencers/social media nutritionists constantly posting ‘did you know’ shit that I get as ‘suggested posts’ or ads on my social media. It does nothing but fuel my already crippling health anxiety and send me spiraling even further into paranoia and panic. Literally everything is bad for you according to these nutritionists, how am I supposed to live then? Sorry I’m not rich like they are and can’t afford to buy super expensive, pure, organic, unrefined, unprocessed, untainted foods and vitamins grown and cultivated by old wizened monks on some remote island off the coast of Iceland!! I’m sick to death of reading about how every single thing I do and consume is slowly killing me and sending me to an early grave I have an anxiety disorder fuck you very much.

[yandere-society]

The Ultimatum

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day has rolled around once again, and just like last year, you plan on spending it with none other than your emotional support dog. What you don’t know, however, is that you have an unexpected visitor awaiting for you at home.. and not only does he have a loaded gun on his hip, but he also has your beloved pet in his lap.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 6,000

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, signs/mentioning of mental disorders such as: anxiety, depression, PTSD and dissociation; Mentions of gang violence; Depictions of gore; nonconsentual kissing (nothing sexual); no dogs were harmed in the making of this…

“Here you go, guys.” You said as you handed the couple across the counter their drinks. You returned their smiles and bid them a good day, but as soon as they turned away and linked their fingers together on the way out, your expression settled into one of disdain.

Baley, your manager, noticed it. But like always, she chose to ignore it. She’s very much use to your secretive, albeit bitter distaste towards romance. She’s been working along side you for two years now, and knows that you’re a big advocate for holiday decorations. You’ve decked the place out on Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas— even fucking Saint Patrick’s day. But for Valentine’s Day, all you did was slap some heart shaped stickers on the window and didn’t even look too happy to be doing that, either. But she’s never been one to push.

“Guess what I’m doing this evening,” She hinted, hanging the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

“Hm?” You asked, having zoned out while rinsing your shot glasses out.

“I’m gonna eat the rest of my edibles and read some alien erotica.”

Not expecting anything less from her, given her personality, you only choked out a laugh and shook your head. It’d be more amusing if you knew she wasn’t kidding. Baley has a weird obsession with aliens and you never took her serious about it until you bought her a tentacle dildo as a gag-gift on her birthday, and instead of laughing about it and going off into a banter like you were anticipating, she started screaming and jumping up and down like you just handed her the last Golden Ticket to the fucking chocolate factory.

“What about your boyfriend?” You asked, forcing yourself to engage in conversation to keep you from spiraling.

“He’s out of town. So I’ll be thinking of him as I read about the alien king abducting me and using my tenta-holes—“

“Never mind.” You cut her off, trying to let that lighten up the mood. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. You just wanted today to be over.

It’d be a whole lot better if only you could tell her the truth and come clean about your past. But it’s not like she’d believe you, even if you had the guts. But in all honesty, her fantasy about alien abduction was more believable.

You’re a barista making $10 an hour, living paycheck to paycheck and inhabiting the house your grandmother left you in her will. You have no car, you rely on public transportation; all your clothes are from goodwill and when you’re not working at this shop, you spending your life in confinement of those walls with your dog, as a recluse.

If you even dared to tell Baley that, just three years ago, you were living in a million-dollar mansion in South Korea, and had a luxurious wardrobe from big-name designers and that you didn’t even own a pair of fucking socks that were under $100.. she’d look at you as if you were the alien. She wouldn’t entertain the bigger half of the story, about how you were engaged to a man who’s now serving a life sentence and could possibly be put on death row for committing a robbery that left one of the international banking systems short 23-million won— which would amount to be approximately 20 million dollars in America... you would’ve lost her at the word Fiancé.

It’d be easy to prove, though. Your associations to the crime may not show up in your background check, being as you’re back here in America and was never detained, and the news isn’t relevant enough to circulate here. However, a simple google search would reveal it all, even with pictures of you two in public.

But not even you wanted to look up his name to know what was going on with his case. You were still ambient to forget about him, in a way. You wanted to ignore his existence. You fucking loath that man.. you swear, you do.

You had fallen back into a brooding silence again without even meaning to, and although you were busily cleaning up off muscle memory, you were detached. He still has that effect on you. And truth be known, the first year you spent in lonesome isolation after leaving Korea was just a change of scenery but not very different from the lifestyle he had subjected you to. But even still, it was so much better than living with him at the estate. And now, with your dog Sweetpea there, you feel safe again. At least you were in the same place you grew up, and felt closer to your grandmother—

Fuck, you missed her so much. He wouldn’t even let you visit her in person before she past. The man owned his own private jet and it never had any maintenance problems until the one fucking night you needed to go back home. You only got to speak with her on the phone, and bawled your fucking eyes out and spewed out an incoherent apology just hours before her heart gave out. That’s when she told you that she left you the house, and how sorry she was for kicking you out of it because you didn’t pursue the career field she wanted you to go for.

If only they would’ve arrested Taehyung a month prior, you could’ve been there for her. You could’ve hugged her and the two of you could given each other the apology you both deserved.

“Hey..” Baley’s voice suddenly came to your left ear, the only one that you could actually hear out of. Your right one, despite being 80% deaf even with a functioning hear aid, was faintly ringing from the emotional tangent you had accidentally drifted into.

You looked over at her, and broke down. Although she could never fully understand, she still gave you an empathetic frown and was pulling you into a hug before you could sputter out an apology— not that there was any use for one.

You had secrets that still haunted you, and will always impair your daily life— much like your botched eardrum and this shitty device you spent way too much money on. That’s another thing you only had Kim Taehyung to thank for, along with your fucked up shoulder.

You had to carefully elevate your arms but eventually returned the hug and cried a little harder, not able to help it. Sweetpea was a great reciprocate for affection and did a swell job with distracting you, but as far as human comfort goes, you haven’t had so much as that in.. well, seven fucking years. Tae was always big on affection, and also comforted you when you needed it. But it was redundant and didn’t have a sincere effect, being as he was the very one that initially caused the hurt it derived from.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, I never do... but I want you to know that I can see how strong you are. You’re doing a great job at making it through each day...” she muttered, rubbing your back as it shook with each silent sob. You felt bad when you heard her own voice beginning to thicken, but that was no surprise. She was a sympathizer and a little bit emo in general. Seeing others cry was enough to jerk a tear out of her, and you loved that about her. She’s a weirdo, but she’s pure, and she’s very good hearted. You could even say that you may have deeper feelings for her as well, and they may even be mutual, but you were no good for her. Hell, you were already putting her in enough danger just by being an employee at her shop. If you were to let your relationship stem past being friendly coworkers, or even hung out with her outside of work, that could pose an actual threat to her safety.

So, even though you wanted to lengthen the embrace, and longed to tighten your arms around her even more, you pulled back and wiped at your face, giving her a weak grin and a nod instead.

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before taking a step back, recollecting herself.

“You go home. I got everything else.”

You sheepishly nodded again, thanking her one last time before collecting your things and booking it out of there. Had you not felt so broken and defeated in that moment, you would’ve refused. But her show of affection triggered a deep, dire need to give and be given more comfort.

Fortunately for you, though, you had a special someone for that. Your dog is the only living creature on this planet that can be trusted with the revelations of your past. She’s the only reliance you have for receiving unconditional love and support without any judgment... probably because she doesn’t even understand what the fuck you’re saying half the time, nor can she repeat the shit you say, but as far as comfort goes, it’s always a guarantee.

— That’s just in her nature, like most pets. Pitbulls, however, are very sensitive and attentive to certain emotions— especially depression and anxiety. They’re just as good with protecting their owners, as well as they are with babysitting them. Everyone knows pitbulls have a notorious and misguided reputation for being aggressive. But little do most know, before dog fighting became a popular thing and defamed their personalities, pitbulls were primarily referred to as ‘Nanny dogs’. They’re great with babies in general, and very domestic and charismatic by nature. But despite being big, loveable goof balls themselves, they can literally sense stressful emotions and will know what type action to take in order to sedate them.

Sweetpea may not have professional training and certification but it is by her true nature and personality that you call her an Emotional Support Dog. When you’re having another one of your episodes— panic attacks, senseless paranoia, nightmares— she’s running to your aid and doing anything she can to distract and get you to play with her. When you’re depressed and spiraling into another breakdown, she licking at your face and sitting in your lap, not even seeing the problem with her being three times bigger than the average lap dog—

“Kneehemplamaforseeking?”

You sucked in a breath and blinked over at the PetsMart employee, smiling a few away from you. You probably looked lost, and in a way you quite literally were. You hardly remember walking in the direction of this store, let alone entering it. But this a common thing for you, so you easily just went on about your way despite the sudden worry of missing your bus... again.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” You had asked, turning your good ear towards her and watching her lips move.

“Do you need help looking for something?” She repeated, carefully annunciating her words this time, now that she could see the device in your ear. In today’s age, most people mistake it as a bluetooth— which has unknowingly saved you from accidentally talking to yourself in public, more than you would know.

You shook your head in response to the lady, and checked the time on your phone. You had 30 minutes left, thank God.

“No thanks. I’m just here to get some treats and waste some time before my bus comes. It’s windy as hell outside.”

“Ah, it certainly is,” she agreed, making her way to the next aisle. “Be safe out there!”

“I’ll try.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing a bag of bacon strips off the shelf— the very thing you had ultimately came for. It should’ve taken you no more than 5 minutes to grab and go. But it wasn’t uncommon for you to take much longer and aimlessly wonder down multiple aisles only to get one or two things from the same aisle, though. You do it at every store you go to, if you can stand to be outside of your home or away from work.

After checking out, you made it a mission to stay present until your bus came. By the time you got home, you were more stable.. up until the bus driver— a sweet elderly man who’s been transporting you on this route for last couple of years, handed you a rose on your way down the stairs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, young lady.”

You had the strength to give him a genuine smile, but as soon as you stepped off and the doors closed, and the bus engine picked back up and left you with a gust of wind, you broke again.

Taehyung always gave you a bouquet of blood red roses for Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sucker for them. And you still are, but sentiment wasn’t the only emotion to come now. They brought on an ache. A pain. A worry. A twinge of longing, but a fuckton of resentment.

You wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp at it.. better yet, you wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn while smoking a much needed cigarette. But first, you need to see your dog. You know she’s just as anxious to see you.

You trudged up to your door and was quick to unlock it... but frowned when you didn’t see her on the other side. Maybe it was because your ears were ringing again from how worked up you’d just gotten. But usually, the mere sound of your key twisting at the lock would have her running to the and practically beating it down, and you’d opened to see her gleefully wining out and wagging her tail.

But she wasn’t there.

“Sweetpea?” You called out, making it a point to swing the door shut behind you. Still, nothing—

Whimpering. You heard her whimpering and your head snapped over to the hallway. Your heart began to race. Your bed door was open, as always, and you could hear her in there but she wasn’t coming out. Only whimpering for you to come to her.

Fearing the worst, thinking perhaps she’d hurt herself to the extent that she couldn’t move, you barged down the hallway and listened with a sickening sense of uneasiness as her whimpering turned to muffled howls.

“Sweetpea, wha—“

You screamed. Sheer horror and white-hot adrenaline erupted through your veins and scorched your nerve endings, leaving you numb in the limb to the impact of the floor beneath your kneecaps. All you could feel was the volcanic eruption of despair in your chest and the strain in your diaphragm.

Sweetpea was okay, but very much in danger. She had a muzzle on, and her big, canopy-like ears were peeled back and her big, doughy eyes were wildly beading dead at you as she struggled and pawed at the carpet, watching you fall to you fall out. She was so worried to get to you but she couldn’t, do to the death grip of the man who was holding her by a leash. She couldn’t even interpret the lethality of the weapon that was also aimed at the back of her head— a glock you specially recall being the weapon of choice when Taehyung pistol whipped a man’s head open before emptying all twelve rounds in his magazine into his face.

Now, all you could envision was the same being done to that sweet face and big, bulbous head.

You screamed out and wailed even louder, not even looking at the intruder or registering who it was. Because you already fucking knew and in your mind it was too late.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared, making you and Sweetpea flinch. You stopped screaming but your breath was ragged beyond your control. Your vision was bouncing between his fierce scowl and Sweetpea’s fearsome one. You dove forward, intending to crawl and beg but two pairs of shoes stepped out from where they’d been standing behind the door, and their hands gripped you by the biceps before hauling you up to your feet. You didn’t even try to resist them. You knew better than that. But fear still had you discombobulated and speaking out to yourself, feeling incredibly dizzy and disarrayed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“You’re not dreaming.” Taehyung snarled, palm itching to slap some sense into you. But even within the three years he’s spent in bitterness, it didn’t change the morality he did have in relations to you. He’d never hit you out of anger.

But then he realized the real reason why you were saying that, when your knees suddenly gave out and the hold his men had on you became the only thing keeping you up right as you fainted out. He didn’t realize you still had that problem, and it hurt him to see that now.

Back when he had you in his possession, you had accidentally witnessed an execution down in the basement of his mansion. It was the first time you fainted, a d your body came toppling down a good ten-or-so steps, which were made of cement, and you were lucky to have only broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder.

Guilt crashed over him, suddenly. He meant to terrorize you in a way that wasted little time to gain submission, but he didn’t mean to trigger your PTSD— although he knew it was likely. Given the resolve, he put the gun back in its holster and stood up, beckoning for Yoongi to take the leash. Jungkook easily held you up by the waste and waited to pass you off to your fiancé before bringing your wrists behind your back. You slowly came to as he did so, and your head lolled back up only for your entire body to snap back into attention all at once, now that you were face to face with the Devil himself.

“Come on, you fucking idiot!”

Your head snapped over and you began to panic again as Yoongi fought with your, trying to drag her over to her cage by the leash. She was putting up one hell of a fight and audibly wheezing from the choke, her eyes now bulging as she looked at you.

You bucked against the both of them, your maternal instincts causing you to go feral as you saw red.

“QUIT! YOU’RE FUCKING CHOKING HER, YOU FUCKING PRICK! PICK HER UP!”

“She’s too squirmy!” He shouted back, the shock of your outburst causing him to lose tension and Sweetpea lunged the both of them forward. Tae was shouting at Jungkook to hurry with the restraints and squeezing you tighter, but you were kicking and flailing like a fish out of water now.

“MAKE HIM STOP!” You cried out, but was forcefully silenced by the gigantic hand that grabbled around the entire bottom half of your face— including your nose. Having been in this situation before, knowing his antics, you knew he wasn’t going to let you breathe again until you did as told. So you were forced to settle down but was still desperately pleading with your eyes, crying as your dog continued to heave against the menstruations.

“Yoongi, for fuck sake, the dog is 50 pounds. Just pick her up and put your in the kennel.” Tae stressed, eyes still locked with yours.

With a grunt, Yoongi tackled your dog and trapped her in a bear hug, snatching her up off the ground. You wanted to scream at him again but you were actually starting to struggle for oxygen, chest jolting with an involuntary attempts to inhale.

“Alright, they’re on. I just gotta link them.”

Tae’s hand finally dropped and you hacked out, swallowing as much air as you could. Now that Sweetpea was safely in her cage, you had time to worry about your own safety, but the look on his face wasn’t giving off such a merciful vibe.

“You do whatever you want to me. I don’t care. I won’t fight back... but if you hurt my dog—“

“If I hurt your fucking dog, it’ll just be tough shit for you. I’ll still do whatever the hell I want and unless you need me to prove that, I suggest you stop with ultimatums..” he chuckled, but it sounded so cold and twisted. He was on the verge of snapping, and was fighting to keep as much composure as he could right now, for your sake.

But he was on a heist right now, you readied yourself for the unknown when he punctuated his sentence by grappling your throat with the same, vandalized and accessorized hand he just smothered you with— fingers digging in at the sides. Your breathing was once again constricted and your eyes reddened in strain, your voice dying out.

Tae may not beat you, but he knows your worse fear is dying by suffocation. Hence, why he’s so big in breath play.

“Can you?” He reiterated, snarling his teeth at you and revealing the top and bottom pair of golden, fang-shaped plates framing his pearly white canine teeth. Back in the day, you found them so extravagant and tasteful, but now you found them all the more threatening.

He waited until your eyes began fluttered back before letting go again, and Jungkook’s body was the only thing that saved you from falling back. You never understood why, but for some reason, Jungkook was the only person Tae allowed to be in closer range of you, even when it wasn’t necessary. He even reminded you of that when Yoongi had stepped a little too close and Taehyung shot a glare over to him that had him taking a couple steps back. But Jungkook was apparently free to stand there, holding you up even as you regained your footing. You feared that one day it will all make sense, but for now, you were thankful that he was there to at least to save you from collapsing.

It’d be great if they weren’t even fucking here, at all.

“Go put the kennel in the car— not on the seats, though. Hobi will kill me if I fuck up the interior.”

“Please let me rehouse her.” You begged, cringing as his eyes returned to you. They looked even more colorless than before. “I’ll come with you, but I don’t want her there with us.”

“She’s fine. As long as she doesn’t shit and piss everywhere and doesn’t chew any of my shit, or try to attack me, I’ll let you keep her.”

“You were just holding a fucking gun to her head, Taehyung. Please let me rehouse her. My friend Baley will take her. All I gotta do is leave her in the cafe with a note— I have the keys. I’ll even let you write the fucking note yourself and we can go...” It was significantly getting harder to speak, now that your airways were irritated and your unsteady emotions were only making it worse.

You had already accepted your fate, but had a twinge of hope left that he’d at least hear you out on that request. His features had softened into a crestfallen display of guilt, and remorse. But your faith in him shattered all over again when he stubbornly shook his head and reached for the gun again. You were just about to throw another fit until he pulled the magazine out and showed it to you.

It was empty, until he pocketed it and pulled out a fully-loaded one and clipped it into place, before putting it back in the holster.

He tricked you, and although it was still pretty fucking evil, you were relieved. He never intended to shoot her and wouldn’t have been able to, even if his finger applied enough pressure on the trigger. But you were still very much in the midst of an abduction, and you still hated this man for what he was doing to you now.

“Why are here?” You croaked.

“To come get you and our new pet,” he announced, faking the enthusiasm before reinforcing his glare. “I’m... incredibly pissed about the fact that abandoned me.. but even more so offended by the negligence to stay updated.”

His eyes then caught the flash of a blue light at your ear. Your hearing aid was dying and faintly peeping in your ear. The remembrance had his entire demeanor shift to a sullen one, like a switch.

“But at the same time—“ his voice had fallen into a lower pitch, almost to the point of being a whisper as he stepped closer and easily molded his hands around your face. You suddenly felt fragile, but not in a way that made you giddy, like it use to. Now, you had to swallow down the bile in your throat and fight against the nausea as his suddenly lips came near.

“—It’s really hard take that out on you, when I can’t even blame you for it. But It’s been three fucking years, honey. Three. How could you not even have enough concern for my well being, to not even send a fucking post card? Did you really think you‘d never see me again, and that you had snuck away from me? I knew what you were doing, and where you were going before you even boarded your fucking flight.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail. I thought you were letting me go.”

“First of all, you didn’t even know the original plan to think that it had failed. All my charges have been dropped and the suspicion of my involvement dismissed. Namjoon has been found guilty and is now serving that sentence, like I had initially plotted from the beginning. You never knew shit to fucking assume anything!”

You glared at him despite the jolt that came with his drastic notch in volume, and not your tongue as he went on.

“But I did allow you to leave the country, but only to give you space and to let you touch base with... whatever the fuck it is that you still find valuable here. I didn’t think I’d have to clarify the circumstances of your stay, but for you to not even reach out.. and the fact you got some shitty, minimum wage job on top of it all, when you still have access to the saving account I’ve put in your name.. You really thought we were over? You haven’t even checked the news articles to see any updates on the case. I’ve been out for a week!”

He was still holding your face but his hands were shaking and the pressure was increasing again. He always pulls back and regains control over his temper before inflicting harm, but it’d be foolish to not expect him to one day lose that control. He’s hurt you on ‘accident’ before. He’s slaughtered many people, more than you’ll ever know to keep count. Nothing is sacred.

But now, you are a lot more contempt and able to tolerate the fear of him hurting you on impulse, being as Sweetpea was out of harms way and no longer in the room. You were still shaking though and had closed your eyes, bracing for it. But the jerk of shock only came when his suddenly lips covered your’s, and Jungkook finally backed away.

The kiss only lasted about three solid seconds before he pulled back, and was heavily panting through his nose. You dared to look up and caught a glimpse of the physical pain marring his features. His eyes had gone watery and his jaw began ticking like a time bomb, nostrils flaring and chest rising. He pressed his forehead against your’s and snaked his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, trying to fight off his own sobs and choking on them more and more with each second.

“You hate me.. you haven’t even missed me.” His voice was so thickened by his emotions that it deepened the natural richness he already had, making it sound contorted and almost inhuman. A tear dropped down his nose bridge and hit your quivering lips, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fight back the heart wrenching burn it inflicted on you.

How could you still feel anything for this man? It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be..

But it was. You were so bewildered and petrified by the oncoming sympathy that it stunned you into a froze state of shock. He kissed you again, thinking it was a show of fear for own safety— and he was right to interpret the fear, but it was with different cause. He was steadily conjuring up feelings that you wished you could’ve watched burn, like you had intended to do with the rose your bus driver gave you. But here you were, heart bleeding for him.

You still didn’t reciprocate the kiss but it brought on more involuntary anguish.. you cried harder and so did he, and as he leaned your head back to kiss at your neck, you stared in perplexing awe at the gigantic bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand.

“It’s okay. I‘ve missed you too fucking much to punish you now.” He calmed, and took a good 30 seconds to regain his composure. There was still a groggy undertone in his next words, but once again, he was back in his domineering mindset. “But I ain’t cutting you that much slack.”

You yelped when he suddenly shoved you back, straight into Jungkook for the nth time. He heatedly wiped at his eyes and stepped back, and it was the first time you took in how much more muscular and rigid he’d become over the years.

Before, he was a lot more slender and you’re certain that the very shirt he’s wearing now use to be at least 2 sizes too big on him before.. however, the black silk was skin-tight and clinging to the humps of his biceps, and straining around the buttons between his pectorals. His skin was more pale than ever before but now you could see a tattoo curving along his temple, arcing aside the edge of his pierced brow. The word that was written in elegant, cursive writing made your heart palpitate and your stomach twist even more.

Honey. That was your signature endearment. That was the name you’d given him in place of your real one the very night he met you, and asked for it.

This crazy motherfucker really is obsessed with you. How he can lie to you, deceive you, punish you and drive you fucking bonkers and stalk you down only in the act of what he calls love.. and for it to actually be a form of true—albeit dangerous love, was beyond you.

The scripture on his handsome, albeit matured face distracted you for a few seconds. You snapped out of it when Jungkook suddenly hauled you up by the midsection and slammed you down on the bed, pinning his hand down between your shoulder blades and rendering you defenseless.

“What are you doing? Taehyung! Please! Get him off of me!”

“If I could trust you to stay still, I would.” His voice was neutral again, despite a offhanded sniff. You struggled to look back, but it was no use as he was standing out of view.

“Stay still for what?”

“Do you still have your ring?” He asked instead, ignoring you.

“It’s in my nightstand drawer. Now tell me—“

“Told you she kept it,” Jungkook finally spoke— and just like it was back then, it was a very rare occurrence for when he did speak on your behalf. That’s another thing nobody else dared to do, unless asked. But knowing that he was the one stalking you for Taehyung made you all the more disturbed with him.

“Fucking creep. You’re hurting me!” you screamed at him, and he had the audacity to increase pressure. Tae said nothing, nor did he stop his friend from retaliating.

“I also know about your little affair with your coworker. Since when did you start swinging both ways?”

“What are you talking about?” You growled, and he only snorted in response.

“She knows you like her. She knows you stare at her ass every time she bends over and that you bend over on purpose to make her look at yours. She knows you like it when she slaps it.”

You, one again, went unmoving.

Jeon Jungkook is her fucking boyfriend.

“What does Jk even stand for?”

“Jackson. But he doesn’t like to be called Jackie, and you know how I am about nicknames. So I call him JK.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her, Jungkook. You leave her alone. Tae, don’t you let him—“

“Don’t you worry about me.”

“BALEY?!”

Baley walked into view, an unreadable expression on her face. The mere realization of what was happening finally over filled your mental tolerance and you brain suddenly launched you away from reality.

The beach. You were at the beach with your cousins, all of you a little over the age of 18. You were on spring break your senior year in highschool and talking about the future. Graduation. Prom. College~

“She’s zoned out.” Baley said, and Jungkook finally let go. You were indeed paralyzed and had completely dissociated, talking to yourself. Taehyung, with a fully-loaded syringe in his hand, leaned over to look at your face. Your pupils were dilated, eyes stargazing in general, lips softly moving as you babbled nonsense. He hated knowing that it was coming to this, but he swore he’d earn your forgiveness.

“I’m gonna get your ear fixed.. or at least get you a better device. We’re gonna be okay. We’re so fucking rich now, I don’t even know what to do with all our money— only to turn it into more. I won’t have to work as much. We can get married, have the best fucking honey moon we can imagine. We can get started on a family. I’ll win your dog over, too. I promise.”

He sank the needle into your bicep, and you didn’t even flinch. Only blinked in rhythm as a tear fell.

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.” You incoherently muttered, having said that to your friend, Jessica, on the beach.

It was insensitive, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. Whatever memory you were reliving at the moment, was quite sometime before you actually began your classes for such profession. He bent down and kissed your cheek one last time as he injected the entirety sedation serum into your system and pulled it out. But you were oblivious to it all.

“I think I’m smart enough...”

”You’re very book smart, baby. But you’re probably gonna drop out after three semesters and become a bar tender at a strip club, because you’re not fit to be a homicidal investigator. You’re too soft.”

“I’m not..”

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.”

“Well, you’re gonna become my wife before you become anything else.”

“Ew, don’t even play like that. You’re my cousin.”

“Jeez..” Baley muttered. “You really have driven her a little bat-shit, huh? This is way more disturbing than I anticipated—“

“Babe, lets go sit in the car. Come on,” Jungkook hurried, pulling her out of the room.

Taehyung continued to whisper sweet nothings into your deafened ear, but the last night you heard before it all went blank was the perfect, bittersweet saying that bidded you goodbye for the night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.”

[gargalesthesia]

3am angsty kiribaku headcanons

cause fuck you thats why im sleep deprived and thought of this so we’re writing it and editing it in the morning (under the cut)

okay lets start with the natural:

-bakugou is deaf or hoh

-because thats the side affect of his quirk and ooh bitch does he hate it

-because he HATES having those ‘weird fucking box thingies onmy ears’ cause its just proof that bakugou fucking katsuki has a weakness

-according to him, the only good thing about it is that when he doesnt wanna deal with bullshit or starts having a sensory overload he can just plop out his hearing aids and BOOM bullshit over or immediate calming silence so yes hearing aids!bakugou

-also he has PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) because have you SEEN the shit that this boy has been through

-lemme remind y’all that he’s only 15

-fucking 15

-and he got 1. kidnapped  2. stuck in an emotionally/physically abusive household 3. has a superiority complex due to no adult ever telling him no before or knocking him down a peg 4. basically got pushed aside by his idol and was ignored by him 5. told he could be a perfect villain when all he wanted to do was be a hero 6. forced into a war that should have been handled by now by pro heroes (next arc, between the league of villains and the hero society)

- people automatically think his favourite teacher was all might since he’s admired him so much but since all might basically ignored him the whole school year he just doesnt think he’s all that great anymore

-but when he’s asked which one of his teachers was his favourite he responds with “present mic and eraserhead” which leaves the asker in shock

-i cant continue or else this’ll be longer than it needs to and we need to get onto kirishima

-quick thing: panic attacks are a regular thing at night for bakugou and his quirk goes haywire ALL. THE. TIME.

-he also bonds with present mic since their quirks make them both go deaf/hoh and present mic teaches him jsl

-and aizawa is basically his dad along with yamada

-they basically adopted him already its just that mitsuki’s a bitch

-OKAY OKAY ILLS TOP I JUST LOVE BAKUGOU SO MUCH OKAY

-ONTO KIRISHIMA

-so kirishima has an INFERIORITY COMPLEX

-and anxiety

-and paranoia

-yes okay kirishima has an inferiority complex, paranoia, anxiety, and depression

-which is hard enough as it is

-but then when he sees bakugou kirishima’s self esteem just gets knocked down over and over and i think thats what draws him to bakugou

-because bakugou’s so strong willed and just generally strong

-and kirishima thinks he’s not good enough

-so he’s hanging out with bakugou even if it breaks his heart that he can never be that good

-because he thinks thats a punishment for him

-BUT THEN

-bakugou shouts “WE’RE EQUALS AREN’T WE SHITTY HAIR????”

-and kirishima just

-”holy shit we’re equals”

-and his self esteem gets boosted even for a little while

-they go to therapy sessions together because they’re each others moral support AHEM I MEAN WHAT

-kirishima literally LOVES crimson riot but can never imagine to live up to the title but bakugou always smacks him on the head when he talks about it

-kiribaku doesnt get together until mid second year

-kirishima wakes up to crackling through the walls

-bet y’all can guess who it is

-hell yeah its bakugou waking up

-he’s having a particularly bad nightmare so kirishima just

-starts playing “nothing” by bruno major and makes sure its quiet enough so that shouji cant hear but loud enough that bakugou can

-and slowly the crackles dissipate

-and he leaves the song on to play the rest of the night and they both sleep easy that night

-soon enough kiri assembles a WHOLE FUCKING PLAYLIST of soft and calming songs AHEM LOVE SONGS AHEM for when he hears bakugou wake up or when he needs it after the fight with rappa

-so when bakugou just one night slams kiris door open on a particularly horrible nightmare on kiris part

-he was silently crying so bakugou wouldnt hear but ofc he did

-he climbs into bed with kirishima, no hesitation, and starts playing the damn playlist

-”youre fucking unbreakable, kirishima.”

-and kirishima just MELTS

-and starts sobbing into bakugous arms

-and they end up cuddling and shit

-and in the morning its the weekend so they talk over their feelings and shit

-and shit

-fuck

-but nvm

-they get together but nothings really different lmao-

-its just different in the sense that bakugou can now kiss kirishimaand vice versa

-its not perfect

-but

-it just feels

-perfect in their own little ways

-like the way bakugou lands little kisses on kirishimas nape everytime they cuddle

-or when kirishima kisses bakugous hearing aids and it makes bakugou feel so much better about them

-also when they stay up playing animal crossing

-kissing just for the sake of kissing

-lazy morning kisses where both of them are too lazy to get up but they wanna make out but theyre too fucking tired

-or when they say i love you for the first time

-so

-they think its perfect for them

-and really

-thats all that matters

-and they live mostly happily ever after

-well until i decide to write post canon headcanons which is way too angsty for me to be thinking abt rn

-good luck future me

-ALSO ONCE THEYRE OVERAGE

-top kirishima no doubt

-OKAY BYE

[little-miss-dumpsterfire]

I think I made you up in my head - chapter two

Ah, yes, here it is. Part two of the total drama horror anthology no-one asked for. This chapter has already been posted on Wattpad (as have two others) but fuck it, I like it here. 

Fair warning, it does get pretty deep pretty quickly. So, let’s get into it. 

Chapter Two - I stared at my mirror; the mirror stared back

Trigger warning - eating disorders, self-harm (mentioned briefly) and blood/gore.

If you're not comfortable, please skip. 💛

******************************************

Axel's complexion lightened as his eyes bulged from his head. His head was spinning, and the confined basement he was in was not making the situation any better.

"Someone... someone else's turn? What are you going to do to me? Fuck, I didn't tell anyone I was coming out here. Oh god, oh god. No-one's gonna find me..." Axel panted, his body aflame with anxiety as he felt his heart pounding in his head. The slight weight of a dainty hand on his shoulder broke his haze and brought him back into reality. He shook her hand off, backing away from Izzy slowly with his hands held up in surrender.

"Don't touch me! Please... wha- what do you mean? What do you want from me?!" he pleaded, his earlier arrogant façade cracking to reveal a vulnerable, scared young man.

Izzy looked at him, the flicker of the flame reflected brightly in her dull green eyes. She sighed before backing up to the brick wall, sliding down before falling in a lump on the cold floor. Her thin index finger traced over the scars on her wrist she had hidden behind her jacket and whimpered.

Izzy spoke softly, barely audible to her frightened guest. "They never stop screaming. I try to close all the doors in my brain to silence them but they still haunt me. Slowly creeping... like a dense cloud blocking out the sun. Nothing will stop them, at least nothing I do will stop them."

She raised her head again, eyes obscured by dishevelled strands of copper hair. Axel stared at her quizzically as if he had wandered into the psych ward accidentally. Clearly, he was standing in the basement of a schizophrenic hoarder who couldn't let the past die, and he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Listen, lady," he started, regaining his air of arrogance, "I've about had it up to here. I make a podcast about cursed movies and conspiracies to earn money, not to end up in a knock-off Warren's Occult Museum."

"You don't understand. You don't feel the darkness we felt," Izzy replied, staring over at the shelves. "The paranoia, the pain, the conviction that we lived in a sick man's simulation. But everything in here was bathed in the depravity of Total Drama, and like a cancerous tumour it infected us all."

Their eyes met - soulless against suspicious - and Axel took a step towards Izzy, crushing a fragment of broken glass in his wake. Kneeling to her level, he roughly took her chin in his hands and raised her face to look at him.

"You killed them," he accused Izzy, malice dripping from his voice.

Weakly, she responded, her voice getting caught in her throat. "N-no. I didn't. But I know what did."

She lifted her slim arm and gestured towards the shelves. "Those relics are tombstones. Go and pick your poison, if you really want to know what happened."

Axel stood up, wiping the glass fragments from his knees and cautiously wandered over to the winding labyrinth of shelves. His fingertips barely grazed the aged wood of the shelves, tracing the grooves and divots with his index finger. In the corner of his eye, a dark shadow passed him by, and he quickly whipped his head around to investigate. Turning to the shelf in front of him is when he saw the imposing dark figure: himself. Situated in his eye line was a sparkly pink hand mirror intricately embellished with golden sculpted roses. He leant in closer to the mirror; his reflection was a shell of himself, with black pits for eyes and a pitiful smile.

"You ought to be careful with that one, kid," Izzy warned him, rising to her feet and dusting the grime from her pants. "If you look too long, the darkness grows eyes. This I know all too well now."

Izzy walked up to Axel, slightly caressing the edge of the mirror. She sighed deeply.

"We all knew she was the prettiest from the moment she stepped onto that dock... But in a world of lions, you didn't want to be fresh meat."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was no secret to anyone that Chris didn't cast Lindsay for her personality. The shark had smelt blood when he saw her audition tape. Looking back on it now, her fate was sealed in those fleeting seconds.

Lindsay sat atop her bed cross-legged, her dog perched in her lap. Her hair had been brushed to be its silkiest, and the photos on her dresser cemented the point she was making.

"I have bikinis for every season, even the ones not listed on the calendar," she chirped, reflecting her archetype of the dumb blonde.

She was the dream girl for any man: honey blonde and curvy. Her 'assets' warranted attention from creeps shrouded in anonymity behind their computer screens and TV executives alike. Unsolicited strokes and caresses were handed to her regularly, and she lavished in the attention that her looks had bestowed onto her. The early bloomer with the IQ of a thumbtack was a thirst trap for the reality TV crowd, yet the elephant in the room was never addressed.

No one seemed to care that she was sixteen.

For those of us in her different teams, we witnessed these infidelities and stood idly by, our mouths wired shut by clauses, contracts and never-ending fine print. Lindsay may not have been the brightest bulb in the bunch, but the correlation between her body and the positive attention she was receiving was crystal clear to her. She felt the pressure of public scrutiny if she gained weight, had a pimple or even covered up her chest. It was during Action that the red flags appeared... I'd give anything to go back and change it all.

Half-empty bottles of lip gloss were scattered on the bunk bed as Lindsay struggled to find a colour that brought out the highlights in her hair. In her left hand, firmly grasped, was an antique hand mirror that she had repainted herself to match her personality. She applied a liberal layer of rosy-pink gloss onto her lips and puckered them together, staring at the shine in the mirror. A sharp gasp escaped from her lips as her blue eyes widened like saucers. Her gaze was transfixed on her mirror as she moved it around, attempting to shake what she saw away.

"Um, guys..." Lindsay started, a slight panic present in her voice. "There's someone in my mirror."

A bald girl scoffed and rolled her eyes, resettling her focus onto her nails. "No shit, Sherlock. It's supposed to be there. That's a reflection."

A faint, obnoxious voice could be heard from out the open window of the trailer.

"Actually, the presence of a reflection is due to photons coming off of an object to strike the smooth surface of the mirror, which subsequently causes them to bounce back at the same angle, ergo creating a person's reflection." Harold corrected from afar.

"Shut it, dweeb!" Heather called out, throwing a hairbrush at the boy.

"That hurt, GOSH!"

Lindsay became visibly more and more terrified by what she was seeing. Small tears began to pool in the outer corner of her eyes as her lips trembled fiercely. The mirror slipped between her fingers and landed with a muted thud on the orange carpeted floor as the blonde held onto her face protectively. A hairline fracture snaked its way across the glass, briefly eclipsing a dark smudge that quickly disappeared.

None of us girls took Lindsay's claims to heart. She always said that someone was looking at her through her mirror; hardly a surprise from the girl who couldn't remember her boyfriend's name. Something in Lindsay changed that day, and all of us were in the dark. She still fell victim to the paedophilic adoration of Chris McLean and his lackeys - submitting to every squeeze and fondle - but something in her eyes showed that her comfort in her own skin had dwindled.

The water tap squeaked as a thin stream of water dripped out, moistening her toothbrush. She brushed violently, minty foam spilling from her mouth as she desperately washed the taste away. It had consumed her waking thoughts; her mind constantly flashing back to what she had seen. Fear enveloped her in its heavy blackness, picking at her deepest insecurities. Her throat burned from the acid and the bitterness of the bile seemed to stain her tongue.

She stared at her mirror and shook her head, lightly tracing the crack on its surface.

"I can't become fat like Hannah. I'll never win my trip to Paris that way."

In the mirror, her reflection began to warp and distort, but Lindsay placed it back on the counter face down. Her hand wavered over the handle for what seemed like hours, and when she tentatively picked it up again, etched in what looked like blood spelt out an ominous message: EYE OF THE BEHOLDER.

In the weeks following Action's conclusion, images of Lindsay in her Wonder Woman costume were plastered on every tabloid site, every fan page and in every pervert's special photo folder. Her next two seasons played out very much the same, with sideways glances from the production crew eye-raping her on every occasion and her appearance being flaunted for more ratings. Gone was the girl with the backbone of steel who had stood up against Heather in a passionate act of defiance. In her place was an airhead overcome with fear and self resentment.

The click-clacking of her boots against the pavement was all Lindsay could focus on as the world went by around her. Wolf-whistles and cat-calls plagued her at every corner she walked past. She would usually stare into every shop window she passed by, gazing dreamily at purses on sale or new makeup products, but nowadays she scarcely looked twice. Not because she wasn't still obsessed with fashion, as she would always be. She never looked at her reflection because 'it' would be there. Every mirror, every window stared back at her.

She sat anxiously in the waiting room, fiddling with the hem of her skirt as she avoided the stares from the man next to her who was blatantly looking down her top. Her chest, whilst still well endowed, had shrunk, as had the rest of her body and it was starting to become obvious to those closest to her.

"Lindsay Marriott?"

Lindsay rose from her chair silently and followed, being lead down a short hallway into a room. Posters of the food pyramid and anatomical models were plastered on the walls as the strong scent of sanitiser attacked her nostrils. She sat down lightly, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and forehead. The usual small talk took place before the woman placed the cold diaphragm of the stethoscope onto Lindsay's back. Her vertebrae were prominent through her skin, sticking up tall like mountain peaks. The doctor breathed out a small sigh before sitting down across from her.

"Lindsay, would you mind standing on the scale for me?"

She timidly nodded her head, rising and walking towards the scale. Lindsay removed her shoes and stepped onto the scales, the doctor over her shoulder writing down the number. Settling back into their seats, the doctor stared into the eyes of her patient and how their bright blue hue was a stark contrast to her fatigued, gaunt face.

"Honey, you've lost five kilograms since your last visit. You're bordering on becoming dangerously underweight. I think it's time we seek psychological intervention. When was the last time you ate a proper meal without purging?" the doctor asked, an air of concern apparent in her voice.

Tears began to drip down Lindsay's cheeks as she spoke between sobs. "Months... I can't eat... it won't let me eat."

"Who won't let you eat?" the doctor looked quizzically at the young girl who was averting her eyes now.

"The person in my mirror," Lindsay answered matter-of-factly before lifting her head. Behind the doctor's head was a wall-mounted mirror, where she could visibly see herself and the back of the physician. A slow ripping sound filled Lindsay's head as the back of the doctor's shirt split into letters written by an unknown force.

"Lindsay, are you okay? You've gone quite pale. I'll take your blood pressure."

As the doctor turned around, red, pointed letters were emblazoned on the doctor's back.

EYE OF THE BEHOLDER.

Lindsay jumped from her chair with a yelp and ran for the exit, bypassing the crowd of people in the waiting area.

That was the last anyone saw of Lindsay in public before... well... it's hard to put a word to what happened. Text messages to her phone went unread as she slowly slipped into her own self-imposed isolation. Her sister Paula would visit weekly and give us updates, but they were never anything to ignite our hopes or positive outlooks. On her last visit, she recalled that the stench of vomit would follow you around as plates of fly-blown, half-eaten meals were stacked up on the benches. Any mirrors in the apartment had been covered with blankets or covered with masking tape and the windows were blacked out with newspapers. Something had gotten its claws into Lindsay's head, and it was not going to let go.

The porcelain was cold against Lindsay's exposed thighs as she sat on the edge of her bathtub. Her pink mirror sat just within reach on the edge of the counter. The abyss. She had been holding in her hands the view into the abyss. Slowly, her skeletal fingers reached for the mirror, clumsily grabbing it before raising it to her face. Time seemingly stopped as she stared into the mirror, analysing her face; the sunken eyes and teeth slowly yellowing and corroding from the years she had spent purging. Before her eyes, the mirror once again warped until it showed what years ago her peers thought she had falsely identified as her own reflection.

Staring back at her was a decrepit woman with a face as bloated and waxy as a waterlogged corpse. Brown matted hair was plastered onto its face, slightly obscuring its eyes. Two large white orbs with pinpoint black pupils bore into Lindsay's soul as a grotesque smile crept upon its face, stretching its width from ear to ear. A silent scream left Lindsay's lips as black liquid began to seep from its eyes, nose and mouth, pooling at the base of its chin. In front of her was the shadow that had haunted her since she was sixteen, staring at her endlessly in every reflection, punctuating how ugly she perceived herself to be. Edging closer and closer towards the mirror, Lindsay couldn't tear her eyes away, paralysed in terror as faint whines wafted from under her bathroom door.

Paula found her three days later. The poor thing, I don't think the sight has ever left her, and in God's graces, I don't think it ever will. There's not enough therapy on this fucking planet that can erase that from the human psyche.

Paula walked into the apartment, distracted by a low buzzing sound. As she walked towards her sister's bedroom, calling out her name, the sound began to crescendo and a singular fly flew past her head. A distinct smell of rot and decomposition filled the air as she advanced slowly to the closed door of the bathroom. Her perfectly manicured hand gripped the knob strongly as she turned it, opening the door slightly. A swarm of flies buzzed through the open door, obscuring Paula's vision in a haze of black. As her eyes settled, they landed on what the flies had been inhabiting: Lindsay's corpse. Paula tried and failed to suppress gags as she saw her sister's dead body, eyes gouged out by her own hand in an attempt to stop what she had seen. A tacky layer of old blood surrounded Lindsay's head as hundreds of squirming bugs wriggled around in her empty eye sockets. Laying ornamentally atop the pink hand mirror were two eyeballs; their blue sparkle dulled and glazed over.

Scrawled in lipstick all over the walls of the room was one simple phrase.

EYE OF THE BEHOLDER. EYE OF THE BEHOLDER. EYE OF THE BEHOLDER.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"In my head, Lindsay didn't fall victim to herself," Izzy concluded, staring at her appalled guest, "she fell victim to the industry. The sharks in suits who groomed her and fed her insecurities until the societal norms of beauty ate her from the inside."

Axel stepped wearily away from the shelf, in way over his head now. What had started as a cash-grab to use as a clickbait-eqsue podcast had now escalated to a trip to hell... and once you're in hell, only the devil can help you out.

[magneticmage]

I'm in the mood for it (plus it's Disability Pride month) so here are all my disabled ocs;

Under cut for Length

Additional Notes; Please do not judge me too harshly. While I have a few of these disabilities (most notably PTSD, anxiety-depression, and visual impairments) myself and personally know people who have some others, every person and their experiences are unique. I try my best to give these disabilities the space and gravity they deserve in my writing, but it is difficult for ones that I have no personal experience with. In addition, I am still learning and only human. If I have done something wrong or phrased something badly at any point now or in the future, let me know and I will do my best to fix it/do better. Apologies for the abrupt disclaimer but there we go.

Anyways!!!!

On the the List!

RWBY;

Selene Argent=Has PTSD, one prosthetic eye, and some physical scars on face and torso. I'd safely say she counts.

Baldur's Gate;

Sable Shades=Is an albino and was rendered mute at birth. He sunburns extremely easily and is near-sighted. He also often communicates through sign language.

Roan Roarke=Beyond some minor PTSD symptoms (increased anxiety and stress levels) surrounding fires, he's perfectly fine.

Faenerys Elendir=Has PTSD from her time imprisoned particular involving whips and brands as torture implements.

Rune Mistsea=Post-lycanthropy encounter, he is notably more short-tempered around the full moon along with a distinct craving for meat and violence. Otherwise, nothing else of note.

Lucine Mistsea=Beyond a notable paranoia issue when it comes to demons and cambions (but not fellow tieflings), she's fine.

Lyr(e/a/an) Lovemoor=Autistic. Too much light and noise and surrounding activity is draining and makes them short-tempered with occasional blowouts/meltdowns. Has a Thing about certain textures (very much hates slimes and oozes and squishy things for this reason, likes silks and furs and leathers). Has a fascination for all things shiny and glittery (gems and currencies are a special interest). Also often fidgets with their daggers.

Saga Musehart=Was rendered blind due to torture at the hands of prison guards. She also lost a hand (initially) and a forearm (later due to infection) and wears a prosthesis.

Cei Gloomdraft=Autistic or at least neurodivergent of some kind. Might have some ADHD, it's not quite clear yet in the few pieces I've written so far to help develop her.

Mass Effect;

(Solo Shepard Canon)

Annette Shepard=Has some lingering PTSD symptoms from surviving a raid on Mindoir, then thresher maws in Akuze, and then being spaced at the beginning in Mass Effect 2. She also suffers from some survivor's guilt Post-Virmire due to losing Ashley, and then all of Mass Effect 3 puts such a huge burden on her that she's fighting off some severe depression and despair from all the losses. She's got an old war injury in her shoulder that acts up from time to time, occasionally making her biotics misfire a barrier. She's on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent her body from rejecting her Cerberus-added cybernetic implants and upgrades, and also some antidepressants for depression and anxiety symptoms for said lingering PTSD symptoms. Girl's a walking disaster-fire mentally but she keeps on surviving and she still looks for the good in life as it comes, so there's that.

(Shepard Siblings)

Joanna=Like Roscoe and Riley, she's also on immuno-suppressants to prevent cybernetic implant rejection. Notably, she's the most well-adjusted of the three mentally, although the losses and struggles of ME 3 start to take their toll due to depression. She spends an awkward month on the Normandy adjusting to the new medication while adjusting the amounts needed. In addition, she also goes through a whole existential crisis come the Citadel DLC about if she is really Joanna Shepard or a clone (which Riley, Roscoe, and the Normandy crew snap her out of). Her survivor's guilt is much less pronounced than Riley's though she does start the early stages of a martyr complex (it's a source of frequent and well-humored debate between Riley and Roscoe if it was already there or not) about the of Thane's death. But she does her best and keeps on going.

Roscoe=Definitely mentally ill. He's got some trauma around abandonment that starts to get fully addressed around ME 2 in part due to Jack and Miranda and is mostly resolved around ME 3 though naturally scars remain. It often manifests as anger, depression, and even callousness. Like Joanna's and Riley, he is on immuno-suppressants to prevent the potential rejection of his cybernetics. He's also got an old wound from Torfan in his abdomen that acts up under stronger pressures like before a rainstorm or different gravity levels as well as drastic temperature changes such as cold (he HATES Noveria for that reason in particular though it isn't the only one, man). Beyond all that, he's very strong-willed and gives no fucks to shit.

Riley=Much like Annette except a bit more well-adjusted due to a larger support network and character drive. Has notable flashbacks/triggers around batarians, thresher maws (this one includes panic attacks once the direct danger has passed), and hardsuit complications (they always makes sure that their helmet and everything is in working and optimal order). Has survivor's guilt from their losses on Mindoir and Akuze but between meeting Talitha and Toombs in ME 1, they confront and deal with it, beginning to heal from it. Even on Virmire with the loss of Honora and all the failures of ME 3, they do better at handling it though it still remains to varying degrees. Like Joanna's and Roscoe (and Annette again), they're on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent issues with their body rejecting the cybernetics, with the additional ones of antidepressants to help manage some of their anxiety-depression symptoms. They also have some degree of chronic pain (maybe some kind of cystic fibrosis?) due to past overuse of their biotics that damaged part of their nervous system and occasionally causes it to misfire for no reason, often causing intense pain. Rarely and only if the pain isn't treated with extensive biotics-free rest periods and numbing agents in the form of more pills, the biotics will manifest and they'll accidentally move shit around, including themself a few times. This is most notable in ME 3 due to the nature of the larger and longer combat sequences with shorter and shorter rest times between. Though they manage as best they can with the help of their crew and family, it is still a struggle and they notably stop joking about retiring when they're dead and seem to consider it more seriously around ME 3 but save the final decision for the end of the Reaper Wars.

(Shepard Family)

Honora Hartford=She had an eating disorder when she was younger that left some lingering issues with her health but overall she's fine up until her death.

Riley's deceased siblings were overall healthy though Payton had Down's Syndrome and Brooklyn had ADHD. Harley had moderate asthma and used an inhaler.

Clover has anemia quite often and takes iron pills daily

The rest of the Shepard cousins don't have any disabilities to much knowledge though I am still fleshing them out.

(Andromeda)

Sara and Scott Ryder have some lingering damage from their cryopod accident and the Kett leader fucking with them, but otherwise they are okay.

Asher has ADHD while Shiloh struggles with a mild form of chronic fatigue. Evander, Rebecca, and Lucas are all able-bodied.

Dragon Age;

(Fereldan Wardens)

Lynera Mahariel=Dunno if this counts, but am putting it here anyways since it affects her overall health. Occasionally suffers from a type of sleep paralysis that is mixed with night-terrors. It doesn't appear to have a rhyme or reason as to when it occurs beyond perhaps stress and it's only every few months. However, it often leaves her completely drained for at least a week afterwards. She also occasionally has insomnia post-terrors as well which she self-medicates with sleeping draughts. She also has crippling period pains that appear to be consistent with ovarian cysts on her left side (though she later has it removed by Catriona once it ruptures due to injury). She also suffers from bouts of depression during Origins but that could be due to the extenuating circumstances she was under at the time.

Isemaya Tabris=When overly stressed, being exposed to strong amounts of concentrated Taint in a short period of time, or sometimes simply for no apparent reason, she suffers from intense migraines that are often treated with herbal painkillers and lying still in a dark and quiet room. Also due to a past injury to her left eye by humans, she has a harder time seeing on that side but is not completely blind.

Catriona Surana=She seems to be autistic due to her ability and predilection to hyperfocus on various studies (often Blight and magic-related but other areas do occur) as well as her obliviousness to social cues (she didn't realize she was liked by her suitors until Cale outright told her and by then she had decided she liked them already). Notably, she adapts a bit better Post-Origins due to Alistair and Leliana's influences but it still happens.

Cale Amell=Had some minor amnesia surrounding the exact events leading to his magic manifestation but later learned it was because he had set his eldest brother Azul on fire and believed he killed him as Raven helpfully supplied (Azul had instead faked his death as Cale discovers around the time of Awakening).

Fion Cousland=Briefly suffers from a minor alcohol addiction but has treatment while he is still in the functional phase courtesy of Catriona. Since then, he heavily monitors his intake and even helps Oghren get treatment for his own. He also occasionally has painful muscle twinges due to an injury that stretches from his temple to his eye and ear down to his neck on the right side. This is most notable in bad weather or when he is sick.

Barran Aeducan=Suffered from a superiority-inferiority complex towards his siblings growing up though it has greatly lessened with time and experience. It is mostly gone by the time of Inquisition though prominent traces still remain.

Tatha Brosca=She is hard of hearing and has manged to cope by learning to lip-read (not always successful, however, especially with languages she is not familiar with) in Origins and a pair of hearing "horns" designed for her by an admiring Smith caste man by Awakening. She often jokes that now she has even more in common with her Bronto companion, Salroka, due to their shared horns.

(Origins)

Vireth Mahariel=Suffers from epilepsy and often treats it with various herbal remedies, though it is not completely effective and large amounts of intense stress on his body make it worse. He also begins to develop cataracts around the time of Act 2 of Dragon Age 2, though the cause is unknown (presumed genetics or simply age at the moment).

Elthorn Tabris=Has a stutter speech impediment.

Alaros Surana=Unknown at the moment as I haven't written too much about him.

The Amell Siblings=Probably doesn't count but Azul gets motion sickness, especially on boats. Raven, Carmine, and Reed are all perfectly healthy and fine, however the latter two are the ones I've written least at the moment. Marigold has asthma that she treats with herbs.

Aelynne Cousland=Nothing comes to mind. She does have some old injuries (mentally and physically) she acquired from the attack on Highever by Arl Howe that color her later interactions with the family during the Fereldan Civil War.

Valda Aeducan=Has a notable visual impairment that is corrected with glasses, albeit there is nothing to be done for her slight colorblindness (she has a hard type distinguishing between greys, greens, and blues).

(Orlesian Wardens)

Dion Caron=Suffers from sleep apnea that is eased by a special breathing herbal-incense infused mask he wears as well as whomever in his group is on watch to check on him periodically to ensure he still breathes (most often this is either Victoire-Ainsley or Garam). He also snores and coughs due to this. Loudly.

Victoire-Ainsley Caron=Nothing of note.

Isenna Andras=She's an albino and so burns and rashes in intense light and heat. She also has a lame leg that cannot be fixed with magic and so wears a reinforced brace to aid her walk. This creates a noticeable limp.

Garam Kader=Alcohol makes him sick and he suffered from intense gender dysphoria before paying a huge sum to have an ex-Tevinter magister turned fellow Warden help him transition.

(Hawkes)

Jasper, Skye, and Violet Hawke are perfectly healthy. Albeit with some diet restrictions due to various allergies.

Gray Hawke=He is diabetic and so often has to monitor his energy levels to ensure his health. It's part of the reason he doesn't actively endanger his life like his siblings (not that he won't, just less often in comparison). He acquires a truly impressive diet regime and treatment plan upon becoming a nobleman of the Amell family, allowing him much more freedom than before.

(Marquises)

Aurore and Marcel de Serault both suffer from mild hemophilia. Marcel also has a lyrium drug addiction he is trying to break (and is actually doing quite well via weaning himself off it) due to a brief stint as a Templar while serving the Chantry.

(Inquisitors)

Armashok Adaar=Poor eyesight that cannot be fully corrected by glasses and later loses an arm due to the Anchor. He also lost a few fingers and some right hand mobility due to pre-nquisition injuries as a mercenary. He also wears a brace on his left shoulder. He wears a prosthetic eye and replacement arm.

Ransley Trevelyan=Like Cullen, he is working on breaking his own lyrium addiction from his time as a Templar and, like the other Inquisitors, loses his arm due to the Anchor. He had it replaced with a prosthetic arm for his shield side.

Paeriel Lavellan=She loses an arm alongside all the other Inquisitors, but takes the loss much harsher due to her archery skills suffering. While she will wear a prosthesis in battle or when hunting, she doesn't wear it in her day-to-day life, instead preferring to make due as needed. She also has anxiety.

Naranka Cadash=She loses her Anchor-wielding arm and gains a crossbow-and-dagger prosthetic one courtesy of her Inner Circle, much to her delight. She also suffers from some damage to her reproductive tract due to past injuries and is uncertain if she could have children.

(Inner Circle)

Kara Adaar=Beyond an intense hatred of slavery due to being kidnapped and almost sold when she was younger before being rescued by her father, she's perfectly healthy. She does require bedrest for her periods though.

Emilyse Trevelyan=She suffers from some PTSD from her abuse at Templar hands in the Circle, though she begins to recover towards the end of Inquisition.

Samrel Lavellan=Has dyslexia and uses reading aids and memory devices.

Pyrmar Cadash=He might have some PTSD from his Carta days due to a notable cave-in that lasted for a few days before his rescue.

[berri-hopefulspouse]

-- A Look Into The Past --

[ Reuploaded for your convenience~ Because tumblr is an ass~ ]

Fandom & Characters: Danganronpa, Ren (DR s/i, Ultimate Empath), [Mentioned/Minor roles] Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Junko Enoshima, Sayaka Maizono, Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Yasuhiro Hagakure, various Future Foundation technicians and scientists

TW: Self-Harm & Suicide Mentions/Implications, violence/gore warning, emetophobia, Laboratory/Science stuff, Panic attacks, Runaway, Dissociation, Dysphoria implication, Neglect, Bullying mention, General assholery, Hella angst, Mention of bondage & restraints (mostly as jokes), Deadname drop, general PTSD stuff, Hallucinations, Alcohol mention, Homo & transphobia, NB-Phobia, Manipulation, Gaslighting

AN: Another reuploaded story from my previous account! This one was definitely the most uh. Chaotic in terms of trigger warnings, as you can see. All of these are events following THH, and not long before the events that predate DR2 occur. So keep that in mind. ALSO! At the time this is posted (10/3/2020) - this is the story that precedes the current F/O event going on, hinted at here. 

Summary: After the events at Hopes Peak High, each member of the class- over time- are put into a procedure to regain the memories lost over the 2 years. It’s Ren’s turn, and being the last one for various personal reasons- they are nervous. Is it worth it to retrieve memories of the past? Or would they have been better off not knowing at all?…

Fidget. Fidget and broil in thought. Fidget and listen. Listen. 

“You understand the conditions in which you'll go under, Mx?” An older man asked them, “The process will take but a few hours, with one of the devices we have on hand.” They didn't know much of this man- save for one thing. He was one of the technical scientists who worked for Future Foundation- something somewhat new to the brunette.

The weeks following their escape from Hopes Peak...from Junko...it was a bit messy. Scooped up by this organization that apparently was the revolution for hope and trying to contain the disease that was despair. Taking days to breathe and recover from the events, only to have to explain themselves alongside their classmates. So, here they were now. One by one, they were all being asked the same thing; Do they want their memories recovered? Do they want to recall the two years lost to them due to Junko’s meddling?...

“Yes, I understand.” Soren mumbles, shyly, wringing their hands into their shirt, “I am ready to proceed.” 

Whether they were ready for it or not, they knew they had to know. They had to know what they missed, how they were connected to everyone...what their past was like…

Believe it or not, even their childhood felt fuzzy to them. In a way, them and Kirigiri were connected in that sense. Theirs however was...different. 

‘I’m the last one who’s going through this procedure…’ They recalled to themselves as they got up, following the scientist into the laboratory...they felt nervous- and part of them wished Makoto was with them to offer some reassurance.

‘He’s been running himself ragged lately with tasks and plans though, we’ve all been working hard...I let him rest when I got called up.’ 

They thought back to exactly why they were one of the last people to be brought to this laboratory. Intensive therapy, trying to recover from the events of the Killing School life...sure, it affected everyone quite differently, but for them it almost seemed to bring out the worst in them. Persistent nightmares, paranoia, fainting spells… It didn’t take long for them to be brought to counselling once the others found out- although it was mostly due to Makoto outting his concern for them.

‘They figured it was PTSD, naturally. I knew that, it’s basic psychology... But still…’ From what they explained… ‘It seems like it goes far beyond just Hopes Peak. It just seemed like that whole shitshow might’ve just been a breaking point.’ 

Sitting down in one of the chairs in the laboratory, they looked to the various technicians who were around. All typing away at computers, ready to begin the process.

“Like I said, this will take a few hours...and given your special circumstance, definitely a bit longer than most to recover. However, we’re also not certain if all your memories will be recovered.” He explained, securing both their legs and arms to the chair with small clasps. Easy enough to break out of given an emergency were to occur, but enough to restrain any potential flailing. They lightly tugged on the restraints, feeling very little give.

“You going to explain the bondage, or am I just gonna have to deduce that on my own accord?” They joked lightly, giving a shaky smile to the older man who shook his head with a sigh, ignoring the younger adult’s antics.

“They’re just in case. We don’t know what memories might surface, and given your previous history...we just want to make sure you don’t injure yourself in any way.” 

Looking away, they felt the slight phantom burns along their wrist as they recalled exactly what they all meant. Sure, the scars on their wrist were...older than they recalled...Most of which were faded deep into their skin. All except one, from a more recent relapse episode.

‘Hence the need to keep me safe, I guess,’ They thought to themselves, ‘No one at Future Foundation really treats me like the rest of the class…’

And why would they? Ren was a special case, after all, being hung with a slew of various mental disorders… As the psychologist in charge of them put it; “They walk the line of both hope and despair. They try so desperately to cling to hope, but given their potential history, succumbing to despair might simply be an inevitability.”

That anxious thought caused them to shudder, not quite listening to the scientific rambling of the technician as they secured a device to their head. Deep breaths...one after another. The static in their ears receded, until they heard the technician speak again.

“Did you hear what I said, Soren?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh yeah!” They lied through their teeth, “Let’s just get this over with, yeah…”

The technician headed out of the room, reappearing behind the glass wall that was before them. Taking one last glance around the room, it was circular. It reminded them almost of the trial grounds- but more...high-tech. It was an observation room of sorts, however, shown by the glass and the scientists working away behind it. 

‘This is either going to go well…...or really, really poorly.’ They thought to themselves as they took a slow breath. 

There was a slight crackle, an intercom. Their heartbeat skipped for a second but they quickly regathered themselves. 

‘It’s not him. You’re not there anymore.’ They reminded themselves as a voice came on.

“Okay, we’re going to begin the procedure. Are you ready?”

They tried giving a stiff nod, but finding their head was basically fixed in place, simply hummed.

“Ready.”

“Proceeding then, in Five...Four...Three…”

‘Deep breaths, in and out.’

“Two…”

‘Everythings going to be just fine.’

“One.” 

A weird sensation started, right at their temples, only mere moments after the word left the technician’s mouth. Then, a low hum, that made Ren sit a bit straighter with a nervous anxiety and itch at their mind. The hum got louder, louder, louder still…

Until they completely blacked out, altogether.

–☆–

“Ḷ̵̨̜̹̣̖̮̮́ȁ̶̧̼͖̥̰̱̆̈́͂i̴̦̗̪̯̲̻͇̫͑̾̄̆l̸̘̗͕͎̩̈́̄̃͆a̷̡̯͑̑̃̔̈̂̓.̸͓̮̓͂͛̆̏͗̈.̷̗̲̞͙̼̗̈́͗͌̈́͜͠͝.̸̡̛̺̰͓̟̼̙̙̯̀̂̌̓̅͑͜͜?̶͔͍͛̾̊̑̓̇̌̈̅̈́̚͝͝”

A voice. Disconnected. Everything felt heavy, almost familiarly so. The name- it didn’t feel like their own, and it rang with such a chord of familiarity that it felt like a dagger straight through their throat. They suddenly felt so...so sick, but they couldn’t place why... 

“Laila?” A bit louder this time, taking a slow breath in and out, they- no, she- looked up.

“Huh?”

She was seated at a desk- one that...she(-they, no wait uh)...she believed was their own. However, the face that greeted her...she couldn’t even figure out who it was.

“Jeez, I can’t believe you fell asleep in class again.” The person said, a cheeky grin on his features. Jet black hair and light brown eyes greeted (him...them, fuck-) her, and she tried putting a name to a face but...she can’t seem to quite remember, “C’mon, slowass, we’ve got practice.”

“Pra...practice?” 

Drama practice.

The word clicked into her mind, and almost instantly she sat up further.

“Oh shit- That’s today?!”

“No duh, it’s Tuesday, remember?! Sheesh, you’re so forgetful. Cmon-!” 

Before the person- Viktor, the name clicked in her brain almost like it was always there- could finish what she was saying, the brunette had gotten up and run out of the room, into a hallway. 

‘Hercules Middle School…’ She thought to herself (Himself? Why was it so difficult?), as she ran down the hallway, ‘I always grew up here...jeez, I just wanna leave from this nightmare of a school already.’ 

She skidded a bit as they turned, running straight into a wall with a slight thud and a yelp of pain.

“Okay, ow.” She groaned a bit, blinking. He- She had ended up on the floor, head fuzzy slightly as she pulled themselves to their feet.

“Sheesh, dude, you’re so clumsy.” Viktor talked to her, chuckling as she pulled herself to her feet, only to get smacked upside the head, “Watch where you’re walking next time!”

“Eheh...s-sorry.” She stuttered a bit, almost shy. 

“Don’t apologize for everything, man, it’s gonna look pathetic on ya,” Viktor assured, causing her to blush a bit and look away.

“R-right.”

She chuckled nervously, not meeting his expression- afraid to express his- her (their?) mild hurt at what he said.

“Lets get going, we’re running late.”

“Okay…”

With that said, Viktor quickly took a hold of her hand, and the two quickly raced off through the winding corridors of the school.

Even so, as they started to step into the gym, he felt a slight buzz in her pocket. Taking out her phone- dated as it was- they checked the message she received from their- His- her childhood best friend...Kayla.

[ (Kay) 2:43 PM: Hey...dude, U should see this shit. Are you with Vik rn? ]

[ (Lai) 2:44 PM: Yea, y? ]

[ (Kay) 2:44 PM: U need to see this. ]

[ [Kayla sent IMG32452 ] ]

Looking at the image, her heart froze. It was a series of texts between her and Viktor, with the former talking about how childish she was. How much of a crybaby she was over the littlest things, sensitive to every little poke at her. How much of a copycat she was. How it was just so easy to be friends with her, to use her...And her eyes teared up. Kayla looked to be at least trying to defend her...these weren’t even from 20 minutes ago… 

“Laila? You coming, dude?” His-Her thoughts were interrupted by Viktor, as their head jerked up to look at him. He-- She didn’t know what she felt. Part of her wanted to hit him, part of him wanted to scream at him, part of them wanted to ask if they did something wrong...but...

“I...Uh...I don- I don’t feel good suddenly. T-Tell t-them I’ll be in...in a minute…” She mumbled out, feet slowly staggering back as an arm laced around their stomach. That wasn’t entirely a lie, either, they felt faint…they felt sick...she felt...hurt.

Before Viktor could see them cry...she turned and ran off, tears blurring his-(her-their--) her vision as the squeak of sneakers filling the hallways and their crowded mind. 

The colors around them blurred, holding their head in their hands as they trembled in place. Suddenly, they were in the bathroom- though they sensed the day was different than it was mere moments ago. But that wasn’t what was taking up their thoughts. It was staring into the mirror- at the square glasses and overly pudgy baby-face they have. Staring at someone that wasn't her- that isn’t who they are! 

‘Fuck, fuck, why do I hate myself so much?!’ (They- She- he-) She asked herself, struggling to breathe. Even being in the girls’ bathroom felt suffocating, but it was all she knew. Sure, she didn’t feel “dysphoria” like Viktor did...but she felt wrong. She felt WRONG. Her arms shook, nails digging into her skin as she hugged herself tightly. She wanted to shave all her hair off- she wanted to rip off her chest- she wanted- she wanted--

‘Agh! I can’t...I can’t breathe-!’ She forced herself to look away from the mirror, thinking about all the times she was addressed as a girl...all the times she felt wrong in an environment where she should feel comfortable. She always considered herself a tomboy- someone who definitely wasn’t on the feminine side of things...but it felt deeper. Her name made her want to puke- this long hair made her want to scream. The floofy, glittery, feminine clothing made her want to cry, scream, do anything. Something. But all she could do was struggle to breathe, struggle to consider what was happening to her.

That wasn’t even going into all the bullying. How she didn’t fit in with anyone in her class- even amongst her friends. She didn’t THINK she was transgender like Viktor was, but she knew something was...wrong with her. Something different. She couldn’t be a girl, either, she couldn’t be. All the torture she went through day to day- with her family, with her friends, with her classmates, with her-fucking-self. She was in a war she felt like she was losing.

‘...Wouldn’t it be great, if I died right here?’ A voice whispered in the back of their head, causing them to freeze up, ‘Taking the razors and digging them deep into your neck-’

“Laila?”

A voice from outside the bathroom quickly shut them out of their intrusive, suicidal thoughts. She recognized that voice- it was the school nurse. She took a deep breath, in and out- but words struggled to escape their throat, save for a soft squeak of a sob. 

“Is everything okay?...”

‘...I can’t keep doing this to myself...I-I need to tell her...what’s going on…’ She at least was self-aware enough to know that much. She couldn’t put herself through her own hell anymore...So whether she was ready for whatever would come or not...she rubbed her eyes a bit, slowly stepping back out into the hallway to try and finally reach out- after years of remaining silent. 

...Darkness...it kept swallowing them up, almost like a tidal wave. It took a second to recall what was going on. Right. The procedure. Future Foundation. Was...was that a memory then? Were these dreams of memories of their past? How long did they feel like this?!

‘Viktor…’ The name felt bitter on their tongue, and with it a small swell of various emotions came to head. Depression, anguish, betrayal…

‘He talked shit behind my back… we went all the way back to middle school. I trusted him with everything but…’

A voice, Viktor’s, cut through the noise of their head.

“C’mon man, you know I never mean it. Besides, if you weren’t such a damn prick, I wouldn’t need to call you out on your shit all the time.”

“Jeez, you never had gender issues before until I started bringing up that I was trans. What are ya, a copycat?”

“What are you gonna say next, that you’re trans too? Haha! Dude, Nonbinary folk can’t be trans. Besides, you don’t have any physical dysphoria, yeah?”

For years, he manipulated them. Teased them. Backstabbed them.

‘How could I forget about him?...How could I forget about how I was treated growing up by everyone?! Well, I guess I chose to after I came to Japan…’ 

The sadistic smile came into their mind’s eyes. Those dark brown eyes they admired for so long...it was because of him they became an artist. That they were exposed to who they were, and yet-

A sharp pain echoed through the back of their head, causing them to physically flinch- though it was restricted.

‘That’s right, I was bound to that chair in case something unforeseen happened…’ They reminded themselves, despite still trying to thrash. If their voice would work, they’d likely be crying out in pain. 

Still, after another moment, the pain ebbed a bit. They recalled something else. Why that betrayal, that anger...it was so strong…

The blog. The hate. The messages telling them to do something drastic- to kill themselves. The pressure that nearly did cost them their life, had it not been for their escape…

‘...Yet it took me until...some point later...because I know he’s definitely not in my life anymore.’ They told themselves, taking a few breaths to try and ease the picture of the blog from their mind- to stop themselves from seeing red.

They didn’t notice the shuddering they were feeling until a few moments later, but that soon calmed back down.

‘...I do wonder how Kayla is...I didn’t even remember her until now. Did she hurt me too? Did she forget about me when I ran away to Japan…? I don’t know..’ Still, they sighed as Viktor’s laugh cut through their thoughts. Despite themselves, they felt a sense of nostalgia at the sound. 

‘Even if he’s a bastard...even though he hurt me in ways that could potentially never heal...I hope he’s doing okay in all of this.’ That little part of them whispered in the space of their subconscious, as memories of their friendship swirled in their mind, ‘I wouldn’t wish despair like this on anyone else…’

It was vague images, ones that felt distant enough that they couldn’t recall in full detail, but they were still there...his house- all the sleepovers. He helped them get their hair cut. He helped them with art. He introduced them to all sorts of new media that, looking back then, they realized was what made them who they were now… A small smile drew out of them. He took them in when they almost couldn’t take their home life anymore, for a short time. Laughing together with Kayla...it felt so distant, but the happiness they felt then...it was still real. It was still real to them, throughout all of that.

Still, that hum, that distinct hum from before that they realized had fallen into the background noise was suddenly at the forefront of their attention once more- growing louder and changing frequency, in a way that made it feel like they were burning. Not with any emotion, but just...burning. 

Soon, their thoughts slipped away once more, and with it- the hum died back down once more. 

“All readings are going according to plan.” One scientist said to another, “Though we’re picking up distress and hints of pain after turning up the frequency... Is the machine correctly calibrated?”

“It should be as such, unless…” The technician that talked to the brunette earlier pursed his lips in though, before hissing lightly in annoyance through his teeth, “...Unless the subject has an auditory processing issue. Shit- Turn the frequency down a few notches.”

“But sir, if we do so, the memories will most definitely be unable to resurface. Remember, this science isn’t quite perfect yet- we can’t make expenses for the issue.” One female technician spoke up, adjusting her glasses.

“...” The man bit his nail nervously, before sighing and nodding, “Of course. Continue the procedure.” 

–☆–

“Where is that piece of shit kid?!” It was dark. There was lightning going on outside. Their heart was racing, “I’m going to rip her to shreds!”

‘It’s just a hallucination, god please just let it be a hallucination,’ They thought to themselves, closing their eyes- trying to shut out the feeling of fear- even if their head was pounding. 

“I can’t believe she got another F on a math test- can you believe this?! I work with her constantly on it, and yet it's like she doesn’t even hear me!” The gruff man grumbled, the voice a distinct echo, as the brunette hid their face into their knees. The sounds of screaming, the sounds of banging… the sounds of things being thrown- it made their heart race. But they knew better. These were just their mind playing games on them from the past. Focus. They had to ground themselves, but…

‘I’m so scared, god I’m so damn scared…’ They took a few deep breaths, putting their hands to their ears. Focus. 

‘I’m in my room. It’s summer. There’s rain outside and the...smell of... alcohol... is very strong in the air… M-maybe I should open the window.’ Reaching up, they fiddle with the locks in their window for a few moments before flinging it open, letting the smell of nighttime air and rain pattering to the ground slowly drown out the scent of booze that lingered. In moments, the noise in their ears ebbed, and they were able to breathe again. Thankfully. With a bit more focus, the numbness seeped in, and they felt themselves slowly relax. Numbness...it was the only reprieve from the living nightmare of their heart. Controlling it took practice, and being able to shut everything out...it was their only escape. Even if…

‘...Even if it cost someone their life before because of my neglect…’ They thought to themselves, feeling their focus wane and the anxiety starting to ebb back into their vision.

“It’s okay...it’s okay…” They whispered to themselves as they got up, “It’s...It’s not like that anymore. It’s..It’s okay.” They forced themselves to breathe again, focusing again on keeping that numbness deep in- if only to protect themselves from their own pain. They had to get up. They had things to do. They had to keep going. 

Their feet felt heavy, slowly gliding across their small room and peering out into the hallway. Silence. Somber, peaceful silence- save for the sounds of the television faintly heard from downstairs. Slowly slipping downstairs, a voice greeted them.

“La- I-I mean, Soren?” 

“Y-yeah?” They stuttered out, feigning a smile as they poked their head over to where their father sat on the couch- watching the television screen. He at least tried with them, but still…

“Did you take your medication?”

“I-I’m gonna…” They mumbled sheepishly, their smile flickering a bit.

“Are you okay?”

“.....Y-yeah.” They lied through their teeth- in a manner that was not at all subtle. Part of them wondered if he’d ask, or if he’d just happen to not notice again.

“...Okay.” He smiled, “Don’t forget you start class next week. Hercules High needs you!” 

“R-right…”

“And don’t forget you perform for the next few weeks!”

“I-I do? B-but I thought that wasn’t until next week!” Their shock was portrayed in their tone, feeling their heart race. Summer felt like the only time they got to rest, and even then it didn’t feel like it was long enough to deal with the stress they went under.

“They’re starting volleyball season early, and you know the boss needs you.” He shrugged it off, ignoring the clear concern on their features, which fell to simple stress. A few moments of silence drawled on- to which they felt their phone go off in their pocket. They didn’t look at it for a little while, trying to not start crying at even the slightest thought of performing, before finally speaking up once more in a defeated tone.

“...O-Okay. I’ll g-go take my medication, night dad…” “Night sweetie!”

As they tiptoed away though, walking only on the balls of their feet, one thought only crossed their mind.

‘I need to get out of here. I can’t wait to escape any longer. I can’t wait. I can’t deal with the bullying anymore...I can’t take the manipulation anymore...’ A slow inhale, a slow exhale. They had been preparing it for months. Getting a passport, slowly packing things they would need- including funds to transfer from euros into yen…

‘I have to buy that ticket tonight. The last plane out for the next week.’

Their phone buzzed again, which brought them from their thoughts. Slowly, they sighed, taking out their phone.

‘If anyone can calm me down after this nightmare, it’d be my friends-’ They thought to themselves, until seeing the ID.

[ (Stepmom) 11:34 PM: Have you helped your dad out with his account yet? You have to take care of him you know, he can’t take care of himself. ]

Their blood boiled a bit, and despite themselves they quickly texted back.

[ (Ren) 11:35 PM: ...I’m 16, I shouldn’t have to take care of my own parents. Also, it depends- do you still have my binder hidden away somewhere? ]

[ (Stepmom) 11:37 PM: Your what? ]

[ (Ren) 11:37 PM: You know what it is, because I haven’t seen it since I put it in the wash a month ago. ]

For several minutes, as Ren went about the kitchen preparing their medication, they watched her type, the ‘(...)’ making them nervous as they tapped their fingers along their side. But, eventually…

[ (Stepmom) 11:41 PM: Oh, that. It’s going to hurt you if you wear it, it’s too tight. Honestly, I don’t know why you wear something that physically hurts you, so I threw it out. ]

[ (Ren) 11:41 PM: . . . You what. ]

It took everything in them to not throw their phone at the wall in anger. They saved up for months for that! They just wanted to present as themselves! It wasn’t even that tight compared to other, less safer binders! It fit fine!

[ (Stepmom) 11:43 PM: This is for your own good, darling. After all, you wouldn’t want your chest to start sagging, would you? ]

[ (Ren) 11:44 PM: I told you it fit fine. I told you not to mess with it, and how to properly wash it, and you decide to throw it out? The thing I bought with my own money? ]

[ (Stepmom) 11:45 PM: I told you, it’s for your own good. Besides, this phase of yours with being ‘transgender’ will pass in time. ]

Slow breath, in and out. Their grip on their phone tightened before turning it off altogether, taking very intentional slow breaths so they didn’t outright explode into a fit of anger in the middle of the kitchen.

‘She never fucking understands! I explained it to her so many times, I’ve told her this wasn’t just a phase, I begged her to use my name and let me just exist- but she just...can’t! And my dad never does anything! They’ll never do anything!! I just...I wanna be myself. I can’t take it anymore!’ 

As they gathered their medication, which rested in the kitchen, along with a bottle of water, they looked to their father’s wallet- which rested on the counter. They just needed to pay for the plane ticket... Slowly, they crept over, thinking to themselves, ‘...Am I doing this?’ 

Their grip shakes for a moment, trembling with anxiety- anger, sadness...every emotion at once swirling inside like a broiling soup, ready to boil over...They took a photo of the credit card- front to back, and slipped it back into his wallet.

‘...I have no choice.’

In one blink, they were upstairs. The next, purchasing the next plane ticket out of there. The next, slipping out of their room and onto the lower roof of their 2 floored house. The next, running down the street and down to the bus stop. The next, in an airport. And the next...they were gone. Over the course of the next...several hours...All of this occurred within the next day or so, even if everything felt like a blur. There was anxiety flooding through their veins, slowly breathing in and out.  Looking down while seated in the plane, they noted the transfer papers in their lap. A normal, public high school. They did it. They got out. They were free of everything. Of a shitty, unsupportive home life… of friends who only used them for the money they had, and talked shit behind their back...of the work that dragged them rugged...they were free. 

They were finally, finally....free.

....And slowly, just like that, the awareness came back. The feeling of their hands, their legs, and the emotions that came from those memories.

‘That’s right...I ran away from home to transfer to a normal life...I got a part time job, cut off everyone I knew in the past...and left. It wasn’t even just that my family was...abusive… Or at least at that point, But they were…. Neglectful. Emotionally and mentally neglectful... My father...he didn’t acknowledge how poorly he raised me, forced me to work on my singing abilities even when sick or mentally unwell… put so much pressure on my schoolwork that chores and life-skills took a back seat. My stepmother was transphobic, homophobic...and my mother…’

Their thoughts trailed off for a short moment...before the realization cut their heart in two.

‘I haven’t heard from her since I was 7.’

A crippling feeling of loneliness flooded their thoughts, and they swore they felt warmth trailing down their cheek. They swore they felt this before...they knew this feeling of loneliness, and it felt suffocating. It felt like only until recently...they had never known what it felt like to truly belong somewhere… Shit- they were definitely crying, they felt tears falling off their cheek with what awareness they had of their surroundings, despite their eyes being closed. They tried to reach up, to wipe it off, but they once again felt the tight leather restraints keeping them still. 

“Hey, Deep breaths.” A voice cut through the pain. The technician, “How are you feeling right now?”

Their eyes fluttered a bit, and eventually...opened. Their body felt heavy. It took a moment or two to piece together how their tongue worked again, but then they eventually mumbled between nervous clicks of their tongue. 

“Shitty, thanks,” They sarcastically muttered, “I’m doing as well as I can be. How long has it been?”

“4 hours.” The technician spoke up, “Do you recollect anything from Hopes Peak yet, Ren?”

“...No.” They took a second to gather their thoughts, slowly shaking their head as slightly as they could to try and clear the feeling of static and prickles that surrounded their headspace, “Just...my childhood.” 

“Right. Well, we’re about halfway done. If we tried going past 8 hours...well, we don’t know what sort’ve effect it might have on you.” 

The intercom spoke, as they nodded, taking another breath. They had stopped crying by now.

“How does this equipment work again?” They were a bit curious now, and it's not like they were really paying attention earlier when he probably was explaining it to them. The sigh he gave confirmed this suspicion, and while quietly smothering the instant guilt in their stomach that came with feeling like a burden for making him repeat himself, he spoke.

“It basically delivers electromagnetic waves through your ears and to your brain, and depending on the frequency we put through these waves, it will help drudge up any forgotten memories...That is to say, it is impossible to ‘steal’ memories persay- but with the right technology, repressing them very deeply into your mind is very possible. It takes very miniscule, very specific triggers to drudge them back to the surface. That’s what the humming is- the electromagnetic waves,” He explained, “However, we cannot select what you do and don’t remember...and given you have ADHD, what you do recall can vary greatly. You still might not remember as much as most of your classmates, hence why yours is taking that much longer compared to your peers.”

“ADHD...of course this is the first I’m hearing of it,” They noted, spite in their tone, “Gotta have a word with that shrink later.” Even if, thinking of it then, ADHD clicked perfectly with how they acted and their personality. 

“Soren, please do not nearly break the arm of another psychologist.” 

The technician’s exasperation was heard in his tone, watching the brunette’s dark eyes blink up towards where he was sitting in the window. He was holding what, they could only imagine, was yet another coffee. A small stack sat on the desk next to him.

“Nah, I won’t…” They responded, hiding a hint of a chuckle at his tone...They were about to ask another question before quickly giving the slightest shake of their head to brush it off, “Anyway, let’s keep going, yeah?”

“Right. Ready to go back under? Now, I won’t be able to speak to you again until after the procedure ends. While you’re under, you’re technically unconscious, but after each memory ends- you’re briefly brought back to a slight sense of consciousness to give your head a break. Understand?”

“Gotcha, doc.” Their tone was thick with drowsiness, the slight irish drawl slipping between pursed lips. They were sleepy already… What time was it?

“Right...Good luck, Mx.” 

The hum started back up as he spoke, growing louder until his voice was drowned out altogether. One breath in...One breath out...And their head went slack once more as they fell unconscious. 

–☆–

How is it someone like them got accepted here again?

They honestly had no clue. Extensive testing, sure, they were a decent learner...but their emotional capabilities were apparently one to behold. Sure, they knew they helped a student down and away from suicide, but honestly? Anyone could really do that. Either way, after further examination, they were the designated ‘Ultimate Empath’...Jeez, what the HELL were they doing here?

‘But I mean...if those rumors I heard are true, I’ll be set for life,’ They thought to themselves, shyly posted up in the main hall- watching slowly students trickle in of all ages, ‘And I don’t want to work a part-time job for the rest of my life.’ 

Some were talking amongst themselves, others kept to themselves but...they were amongst the latter, arms nervously crossed over their torso. Amongst orientation, they would be introduced to the classes specifically picked for each individual student, and fitted into proper ‘Hopes Peak’ uniforms….you know, the same ones no one seemed to really wear- if the appearance of some upperclassmen were any indication. 

But they, personally? They didn’t want to make themselves too known within the class. After all, they knew there were missing posters for their deadname so if they weren’t careful…

‘I can’t go back home. I can’t. But also...do I really belong here?’

Looking around, the energy of everyone seemed so...so different...compared to them. So much stronger, mentally and physically. Confident. Cheerful. Perfect.

‘...Maybe I shouldn't be here.’ Their thoughts started walking away with them as they slowly started backing over towards the door…

Only to run into someone- causing both of them to start to stumble. 

“Eep-!” 

          “Whoa!”

They felt the person behind them, though, trip, and suddenly, they were on the floor, on top of this poor unfortunate soul. A few moments of silence pass, a few classmates piping in, asking if they were both okay, before Ren slowly sat up, rubbing their head… only to realize they probably nearly crushed the person below them, and jumping up to their feet. 

“Oh my gods, I'm so sorry!” Their voice came out as a shrill squeak, slightly muffled as their hands clasped over their mouth in anxious surprise.

“Ah, jeez-” The boy in question they watched as he rubbed the back of his head, “I-it’s alright, really… Should’ve watched what was in front of me.” He laughed softly, and they looked away.

They wouldn’t lie...he was pretty cute.

“D-did you just walk in? I-I mean, it’s normal not to notice me...I’m pretty short.” They asked and explained themselves, fiddling with their fingers.

“Yeah, I did...and believe me-” He got up himself, standing not much taller than the brunette in question, probably around 5’2”-5’3” or so compared to their 4’10”, “I’m...Not much better in terms of height.”

There was a bewildered silence for a few moments, before the two in question bursted into a small fit of laughter, doubled over in their fit of snickers. As a result, they relaxed a bit, calming down around this boy. 

“I’m guessing you’re also in my class then?” They asked, wiping away a small tear from their eye.

“Yeah, actually. What’s your name?” Olive eyes met their own, and they tried everything in their being to keep from squeaking shyly at the eye contact.

“N-Name’s Soren. U-Ultimate Empath. And you?” They offered a hand to him, despite themselves. The boy in question chuckled, taking their hand in his own and giving a soft squeeze as he shook their hand.

“Makoto Naegi...I-I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student, apparently.” He spoke, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Ren tilted their head, curious.

“Luck student? How the hell do you measure luck…?” They asked, obliviously. Makoto sighed, looking a bit downcast, and they could practically see the insecurity written in his body language and face.

“It’s a long story...But honestly, it’s...kinda ridiculous.” He mumbled, “Not sure if someone like you would wanna hear about it.”

“No, no.” They quickly shook their head, not retracting their hand and instead putting their other hand on his, leaning a bit closer with intrigue written on their features, “I wanna know… If you’re comfortable talking about it, of course. I mean…” They tilted their head, “It’s weird feeling different from the other Ultimates, huh?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard, “How did you…” They grinned a bit, a soft smile, “Empath, remember? I can sense your distress about being here...I can sense your nerves. You don’t...feel like you belong, do you?” They asked.

Makoto blinked for a few moments, eyes searching theirs for any sign of joking, before sighing and relaxing a bit. Right.

“Spot on, I guess. Alright, alright, I’ll spill. But you best not tell anyone else, okay?” Makoto put a finger to his lips, a curl of a joking smirk on their face. At that moment, they noticed the faint sprinkling of freckles across his face, the slight dimples in his features when he grinned...Their heart jumped a bit, and they laughed.

“I won’t tell a soul.”

In one blink, there they were talking to Makoto, and in the next…

“Ren?” Looking over, they found themselves in a different environment. They were seated outside, underneath a tree, with a few other girls around them. If memory serves right… 

‘This is Chihiro, Celestia, and Asahina.’ Their memory clicked perfectly back together.

“Hey!” It was Hina talking, “Dude, are you okay? You were spacing out pretty hard there.”

Ren blinked a bit, before shyly chuckling and looking away, “Ah, yeah, I’m okay. That just...tends to happen.” 

Hina blinks a bit before shaking her head, “Well, yeah, clearly. You should really get that checked out you know! If you can’t even focus on food, how will you be able to focus in class?! I mean, midterm exams are coming up soon you know.”

“...A Lot of studying.” They chuckled nervously, biting their nails, “Still, I just have a lot on my mind lately, I guess.”

“A- A-lot on your mind?” Chihiro spoke up, blinking and leaning a bit closer towards Ren, “D-does it have to do w-with studying?” “...No, I wouldn’t say that…” They mumbled, shyly, looking down at their food and taking a shy bite.

‘How can I tell them everything that goes on in my head? How can I tell them that it's a fight everyday to survive? How can I explain...that something’s wrong with me?’

Simply put, they couldn’t. They managed a small smile and chuckled.

“Just thinking of boys, I guess.” They quickly averted the actual subject- unknowing of them setting themselves up for disaster.

“Oooh?” Asahina got a mischievous grin on her face, “Any particular boys?”

Their face flushed...it was no secret to any of them that they, simply put, were a bit smitten.

“Noooooo….?” They lied through their teeth, even if their goofy grin gave them away.

“Not even a particular luckster?” Celeste leaned in a bit, joining in on the teasing with her own little devilish grin, giggling quietly as the brunette interrogated squeaked shyly and hid their face in their hands, the image of the Ultimate in question immediately flooding their thoughts.

“Nooo!!!” They tried to protest, shaking their head rapidly. The group of girls giggled, Chihiro wrapping an arm around the brunette’s neck in an attempt to reassure them.

“You’re going to have to ask him out eventually, you know, before Sayaka beats you to it.” Asahina said with a cheeky grin. Their smile faltered slightly. 

“No, no. I shouldn’t meddle...I’d feel bad.”

“Even if he clearly has no romantic interest in her?” Celeste spoke up, red eyes widening a bit, “That is to say, I’ve only seen him so starstruck around you particularly, my dear.”

Ren’s face flushed even brighter, biting their lip shyly, “Noo, he definitely wouldn’t want someone like me…” Their self consciousness was starting to show, “I mean, I’m just a nosy empath with gender issues. Sayaka is...a literal popstar.” 

“And? Popstar or no, you still have something special about you that Naegi senses! Cmon, Ren, be a bit more confident in yourself!” Hina rebutted, determination glittering in her bright blue eyes before giggling and shoving a baked treat into her mouth.

“I-I’m plenty confident in myself!” ‘I...I think.’ They left that last bit out, looking away to bite their lip in uncertainty.

The rest of the girls shared a mutual doubtful, somewhat concerned look, before shaking their heads.

“Tell us that when you manage to ask Naegi out yourself, dear.” Celeste concluded, delicately eating at some sparse vegetables she had served herself, smiling sweetly towards her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They huffed, blushing with a slight pout as they idly drank at the sugary drink that sat next to them. It tasted sweet, and reminded them of peaches… Peach soda. Huh.

Still, looking over to the tree next to them, they spotted Makoto amongst some of the guys- laughing alongside Ishimaru, Sayaka, Kyoko, and Yasuhiro...and found their heart sinking a bit in their chest.

‘He’d...never fall for someone like me. It’s not like I’m extraordinary or anything… I’m not like the rest of the Ultimates here.’ They thought to themselves, feeling their mood start to shift. However, the next moment, his eyes met theirs and he smiled, offering a shy wave- and they felt their heart start to race all over again.

‘...Still. I’ll...I’ll stay hopeful for it. It never hurts to dream, right?’

Slowly, the memory faded into nothing once more, and while they didn’t open their eyes again, they felt the sense of their surroundings return once again.

‘Hopes Peak Academy...I never expected I’d get in, especially while I was a runaway...but when I did, it changed my life. For the first time I had friends. I had people I cared about...but at the time, I was so wrapped up in my own trauma, in my own depression...I just didn’t notice. I thought I was alone..’ They thought to themselves, a curl of a small smile on their features, ‘...And my love for Makoto...it goes even beyond the Killing School Life...Gods, Hina isn’t going to let me live THAT down anytime soon if she remembers that.’

Still...there was something about knowing their classmates...truly KNOWING their classmates now, compared to back then...that hurt their heart even more.

‘...They all deserved so much better… None of them deserved to die. None of them deserved to be murdered...none of them deserved to suffer the way we all did. I hope they’re doing okay in the everafter…’ 

Still, as sweet as the memory was, they had to continue. They had to keep going down memory lane. And, it seemed everyone else agreed, as the electromagnetic humming started once again, filling their head with noise. This one felt more abrupt, more sharp, and suddenly they were groaning in pain a bit. Whatever was going on, it hurt...it actually really, really hurt-

“I-Is...is everything...okay??” They managed to open an eye slightly… Only to notice the panic in the technician’s faces. Was something going wrong??? Why did this hurt so badly and all of a sudden- it felt like their head might burst from the pain that came from the sound. 

...They had little time to ask, as within the next moment the world spun back into oblivion once again.

–☆–

“Soooooreeeen~!” 

A cheerful voice brought them to their senses, a thin thumb running over their cheek and wiping a tear from their eyes.

“Hey, are you listening to yourself?” Junko. One of Ren’s newer friends- though she’s been the most honest to them about everything going on.

“I-I ah….s-sorry. I guess I was rambling again, huh?” They looked over to her. They were sitting in an abandoned classroom, the blonde in question was sitting on one of the desks, looking down at them through empty, crystalline eyes.

“Yeah, you were totally out of it.” She chuckled, a smirk on her face, “I can’t believe how heartbroken you look, but honestly? It’s really cute.”

“Oh shutup-” They blushed a bit, looking away, “I-It’s...it’s nothing.”

“Oh really? Even though Makoto is going on what’s totally a date with Sayaka?” Junko leaned into their face, “It’s okay to feel that, y’know? It’s totally okay to let those feelings manifest into something quite...gorgeous. Wouldn’t you agree? It’s like you said, right?” “...There's beauty in everything. Even the worst bits of life…Even in the pain.” They repeated, another tear falling down their cheek.

“There we go… It’s really sad, how you’re literally the side character to your own life, you know? How often Asahina and the others just go off on their own without you?...Well, at least I’m here, you know?” Junko grinned a bit as they nodded, slowly.

“Yeah…”

“Junko...We do have a plan to discuss, you know…” A voice caught both of their attention, and looking towards the corner of the room, Mukuro Ikusaba. A sweet girl with dark black hair and another array of freckles. If they weren’t so bent out of shape with Makoto, honestly Mukuro was also very cute…

“Oh shutup!” Junko’s high pitch voice cut through their gay thoughts, quickly looking back to the blonde, “Anyway, let’s go over the plan I came up with! Alright?”

“Okay…” Mukuro nodded quietly, submitting to her sister’s behavior once again with a passive smile. This seemed to be quite the pattern with these two, and Ren wondered if all siblings acted like this...

“So, I heard some super super secret news about how this whole...event that happened at the school is only going to get worse,” Junko explained, “But with the rest of the outside world. We’re pretty sure that the school will lock up a bunch of us in here, and we want to make things that much more fun for everyone.”

“...Okay…?” Ren raised an eyebrow, concerned.

“We want you to be the one to get back at them.” 

“Huh?”

“You know!! Beat up everyone who keeps abandoning you! Your so called ‘friends’ and your ‘crush’ who abandon you when you need them the most? The ones who clearly couldn’t care less about you? Don’t you want to get back at them?” Junko leaned in towards Ren, who bit their lip, shaking their head.

“N-No...No of course not...I-I mean, they have lives of their own, they shouldn’t have to pay all their attention to me all the time…”

“Even when they clearly forget about you all the time? When you almost killed yourself at the end of last year?” Junko’s eyes stared into Ren’s soul, and they felt...almost violated by the eye contact.

“...E-even so...I-I wouldn’t hurt them…”

“So what are you gonna do? Turn tail and run back to Ireland? Back to your family?” They still don’t know HOW Junko found out about their past- as far as everyone else knew, they were just an Ireland transfer student.

“...N-No, of course not.”

“So, you’ll stay. And play our game.” Junko smiled, “Okay?”

“I…”

“I wouldn’t want something...devastating happening to your dear Naegi, would you?” Junko’s grin turned almost sadistic as she spoke, harshly grabbing their face, “So, you’ll play our game, right?”

Their heart stopped...if Makoto was going to put in danger.......no, they’d do anything in their power to make sure that happened, even if- for the time being- they had to play along.

“...Yes...yes of course.” They mumbled, cheeks squished.

“Good! Besides, it’s not like you’re killin’ em or anything! Not unless you wanna, then of course I’ve got your back on that!” Junko chuckled a bit, letting go of their face, watching as they rubbed their cheeks.

“I-I’d...I’d never kill anyone…”

“Oh dear, we’ll see.”

Junko got up from her seat, slowly approaching Ren and cornering them in their chair.

“J-Junko?...” Their eyes widened, “What are you doing?” 

“Hmm...I just want to show you something. Is that okay?” The blonde grinned, tilting their chin up, “After that, we can further discuss this prank of ours.”

“...N-Noo…?” They had a bad feeling about it, but Junko didn’t seem to listen. They quickly got up to leave, they suddenly didn’t feel safe in the room alone with her- but they felt their arm yanked back, and pinned back into the next desk. 

“J-Junko-!”

The blondes bright eyes appeared in their vision next, her grin a bit sharper than it probably should be.

“Mukuro, hold them down, I want to watch how they react to this video…”

...Something happened during that day. Something that...even to their mind's eye, was fuzzy. They remembered that they started crying again at one point, they remember they felt violated- but they didn’t know why. They don’t remember what happened. They don’t remember how they felt after- or if they even felt anything...But all they could recall after was a faint whisper of a voice, menacing yet dripping with faux sweetness.

“You’ll make them all pay for what they did to you, right?”

“Yes, Junko.”

…

“Junko?”

“Ohmygod- Yeeees?”

“...Let my memory get erased too. I promise I’ll still follow up on my deal. I...I’ll still have my anger, I’ll still have that aggression. I promise. Just...wipe my memory alongside everyone else. So I don’t spill our little secret. Okay?”

 “....Fine.”

–☆–

In that brief moment, they suddenly jolted upright- body trembling and a pained gasp leaving their lungs. They- they couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, and everything suddenly felt so loud-

The primary technician who ran the whole ordeal ran inside, quickly detaching the device and kneeling down in front of Ren.

“Soren?! Hey, can you hear me?!” No. No they couldn’t. All they could think about was how sick they felt, how suddenly suicidal they felt. Were they drowning? Why couldn’t they breathe?!

‘I agreed to hurt people for Junko...S-she manipulated me...she hurt me...to get me to play her game. To keep me from leaving before shit hit the fan...Fuck. Fuck, if I followed through on any of her ideas…To think I agreed to HER game- God I’m a fucking idiot!’ Their thoughts were running at a thousand miles an hour, struggling to breathe. Their hands were tugging desperately on their restraints, unsure if they wanted to hold their throat in attempts to try and breathe again, or if they wanted to claw at their arms until they bled.

They shook their head violently, and in the next moment- with little warning aside from their stomach doing a complete 180- doubled over in their chair and threw up right into their lap. The technician, alarmed, quickly rang up their psychologist who was a few floors down, to provide assistance. 

Everything in their vision swam. They conspired with Junko to hurt people. They conspired with Junko...they...they enabled the Killing Game before it even started.

They puked again. They felt like they might throw up their lungs next, at this rate.

Why were they alive? Why did they have to be the one alive?! They kept making one mistake after another- and this just proved it! This just proved how fucked up they were. How dangerous they were to others.

“Ren- Ren, tell me what you saw!” The technician grabbed their shoulders, trying to get them to focus. Their trashing just got worse. “No! No- No let go of me! Let go of me! I- I can’t breathe- oh my god what did I do!?” Their voice was hoarse from the acidic bile in their throat, struggling not to get sick even more. 

“What did you see?! What did you recall?!” The technician kept trying to talk to them, which only resulted in overwhelming them all the more. The last thing they can completely remember after abruptly waking up from their memory revitalization- was screaming at the top of their lungs. They just wanted to die- they didn’t deserve to live for working with Junko- for working with despair. Frankly, they wished they had died instead of recalling anything at all.

They…frankly don’t remember the next hour or so. They remember faces, eyes, voices speaking to them...a needle being put into their arm…

And soon, they calmed down a bit, feeling sluggish and heavy. Everything felt a bit fuzzy at the edges of their mind as the screaming- both physically and mentally- all but stopped. 

‘Sedatives,’ The thought connected briefly, before the word escaped them altogether in the cloud of drugs. Their psychologist helped them to their feet-- when did they get onto the floor of the laboratory?-- and out of the lab.

Being barely supported under their arm, they basically dragged their feet back to their shared apartment room within their sector’s building with Makoto. Their psychologist stuck by their side until they were able to walk easier, before heading off to schedule a few more appointments in the very near tomorrow. They had a feeling they’d be busy tomorrow, if they even had the energy to get up. 

They remember looking at the time...But they don’t remember what it was. Late, they figured. They stumbled inside, nearly falling on their face as they held their head, still trying to wrap their mind around everything they remembered.

The slight shifting from one of the rooms in the apartment got their attention though, and within another blink Makoto was at their side- helping them stand up a bit and trying to help them into bed. His mouth moved, and they acknowledged that he was saying something to them...but it took a few moments before anything he said actually was heard by them. When they were, they looked up a bit more at him, to which he sighed. 

“What happened?” He asked them, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Their eyes watered a bit, mumbling a quiet, ‘I’m so so sorry...I’m… I failed everyone here…’ 

“Failed? Ren?” He sat them down, clasping their hand, “You had the memory recovery procedure today right? What happened?”

“...I-I can’t...I can’t tell you.” They mumbled, eyes squeezed shut, “You’d hate me. Everyone would...I-I can’t… I can’t take it…” They shook their head, breathing starting to go shallow again as Makoto quickly waved his hands in mild panic.

“Hey, hey, calm down, calm down! It’s going to be okay. Y-you don’t need to talk about it right now, okay? Everything’s okay.” He reassured them, concerned and slightly panicked, “I could never hate you, Ren…” “...” They wanted to scream, they wanted to explain everything to those eyes, they wanted to prove him wrong. They wanted to prove that they should be hated, especially after what they’ve done...but they just felt too tired. They felt too scared...they felt too insecure to admit to it.

“Just rest for now, okay? I’ll bring you some water, and..” He noticed how stained their clothes were, and his nervous smile faltered, “And a change of clothes, apparently, yikes… Do you need anything else?”

“...Medication…” They mumbled quietly, tossing off their shirt and pants without much mind to it, “Please…”

“...Right, okay.” He faltered a bit and quickly looked away from their frame, getting back to his feet, “You rest up for a bit, and I’ll...I’ll get what you need, okay?”

“Okay…” “I love you…” ‘You wouldn’t if you knew what I did…’

Laying down, they felt their eyes flutter as the sedatives further kicked in, feeling their consciousness start to slip…

“I love you too.”

[albatris]

im new around here so.... what was the vehicular curse u had 👁

oh, the curse, yeah, the curse. ok so I’m going to be discussing car accidents in this post, not in great detail, mostly just mentioning the kinds of things that happen, so. warning for that sort of thing, if you don’t like that sort of thing

also under the cut bc lots to say about the curse

ok so for a period of like three months I was having, like, every conceivable car trouble, like, to the point where it was ridiculous, and comical, because if I didn’t laugh about it I would just have a panic attack probably

there was a series of events! this included, among other things:

a lot of accidents and near misses, some big ones, some tiny ones, y’know, someone changing lanes into me, various scrapes and dents, almost-collisions, all eventually culminating in me being rear-ended full force by a van and having the entire back of my car caved in and all my parcels flying onto the main road……….. lol. and the mysterious engine troubles! cars refusing to start for seemingly no reason! multiple breakdowns and having to get towed, one faulty radiator got replaced by a brand new radiator that…… was also immediately found out to be faulty somehow…… random leaks, oil troubles, coolant weirdness

these things happened particularly with regard to work, like…. things would be going pretty cruisey and then I’d make an attempt to Get Properly Back To My Job As A Delivery Driver and things would go to hell, like, immediately

and like, the thing was that it started off pretty tame, and then seemed to continually increase in intensity and frequency as the weeks went on. some Bullshit would happen to me every other day

at the beginning I was like “now logan u know your brain has a tendency to Latch Onto Things and there’s perfectly reasonable explanations for all of this, it’s just bad luck and there is no pattern and you’re not cursed”

and then towards the end I was genuinely getting so stressed and anxious about it and convinced I was going to die and was at my wit’s end and I was like “ok fuck being logical I’m literally straight-up cursed, the universe is sending me a very clear message, and that message is get the fuck off the road or I’ll kill u”

and I maintain that there was some freaky shit going on, yeah. I’m not going to tell you that I don’t think there were some weird forces involved or that it was all just coincidental

and I don’t want this to diminish the very real stress I was under at the time but it is worth noting that I have symptoms syndrome aka problems disorder and that my brain likes things such as patterns, and coincidences, and connections, and ideas of reference, and paranoia, and feeling like there are strange forces at play during random events. and now that I have a little bit of distance from it all and have removed myself from the Hell Situation, here are a collection of explanations that I can now acknowledge

1. in all likeliness, we probably just got super fucking unlucky and the car we bought after the first one got smashed by a van was just a really shitty car, even though it worked fine for a while, and there was no supernatural sabotage involved in all the engine troubles and mysterious breakdowns after the fact. it was just bad luck and a bad car. shit happens

2. fact: I was involved in a lot of accidents and near misses caused by other shitty dumbass drivers. fact: I was involved in them much more frequently that one might think is normal. also fact: I spent 8 hours a day on the road, driving, and driving was literally my entire job. in terms of probability and statistics, I was involved in more bullshit simply because I Was There For Bullshit To Happen To

3. it was not a good job, even though I really liked the work. it was poorly-run, the pressure was unreasonably high, the pay was shit, the working conditions were not good, and I was already looking for a reason to leave, but I’m a stubborn dumbass

4. I was very very very stressed

and I think, like………. the way the sequence of accidents happened, notably it was, near miss, near miss, minor scrape, minor dent, minor crash, major fucking crash, like, y’know, that’s clearly building up to something and I was fairly certain that something was me getting fucking crushed by a semi-trailer

anyway whether or not I was legit cursed is up for debate even within my own brain but I do think the universe was sending me a fairly strong message and the fact of the matter was I needed to re-evaluate my job situation anyway, like….. even sans curse I needed to get out sooner rather than later so………….. eh

that’s that on the vehicular curse

soz for rambling ahaha

[tellurfriends]

so i haven’t been using spotify recently and here’s why: (plus rant)

1. WAYYYYYY too many ads

i’m too poor to pay for spotify and honestly don’t want to out of spite at this point

2. at night, mostly after i lock my phone (and am trying to sleep) is the only time it ever plays ads for horror movies.

note on that: horror movies don’t bother me UNLESS it is some family and/or child bullshit.

the horror movie about that family that just shows up?

pet semetary?

any horror movie with a creepy child voice?

freaks me the hell out. keep that shit away from me.

like i won’t watch demonic stuff or anything about ghosts in my room but that’s because i’m paranoid. (i refuse to call my cat by name in my room, that’s why she’s basically been renamed to “goose”).

ever since i was a kid, since we moved in to this house, i’ve always felt like there was something in my room and it still freaks me the fuck out.

i constantly feel like something is touching me. sometimes when i’m laying in bed, it feels like someone is wrapped around my body.

i’m never paranoid more than when i��m in my own bedroom.

like i won’t even watch conspiracy theory videos in my room anymore unless i have headphones on.

and that feeling of someone being here, i don’t remember ever feeling it in my brother’s old room (which was mine for a time) and i only feel like there’s someone/something else in the rest of my house on my hyper paranoia days.

also, if i am about to go to sleep and i notice it’s 3am i will refuse to go to sleep until it’s 4.

i also, for a time (i don’t do it anymore because i don’t talk about time anymore) i refused to say “three a.m” in my house, i would always say “triple andi mack” instead.

adding to the no creepy/whatever videos in my room, i’ve started to feel uncomfortable watching them in my house at all.

i’m also laying in bed writing this which is making me super uncomfy.

i also won’t listen to songs about the devil or demons in my room and if one is playing in my house i won’t go into my room while it’s playing.

like i don’t listen to “devils train” “boogie woogie wu” or even “devil town” yeah, the cavetown song, in my room.

whenever i accidentally watch/listen to something about ghosts or demons or anything like that in my room i always panic.

wow i’m hella paranoid

but also i never wanna talk about any of this in person because the possibility of ghosts and demons scares me.

i also say that if i could have any of the hargreaves powers, if it was for a day, five, cause that’d be dope, just be lazy as fuck for a day? sign me the fuck up. but if it were for forever i’d pick klaus because that’s the most similar to how i already live.

i also think it’d be dope to talk to the dead and like ask my grandparents stuff but i’d never do a seance.

i think part of this fear is my moms fault because she use to talk about how her sister or friend or something did a seance and got fucked up and like could see demons or some shit and while most people wouldn’t believe that, i was raised christian and now, kind of, believe mythology type stuff so it freaks me out.

anyway this post is too long, i was making this to talk about why i don’t like spotify and i went on a tangent about constantly being scared and paranoid.

oh also, one last thing before i end this, i want to do a cleanse from demons type thing, but i also don’t want to piss off the spirits.

i want to get into witchcraft to protect myself but also i’m scared of opening myself up to the other realms.

the more i write, the more i think i sound insane, because, despite all my mental disorders, i’m a pretty logical person.

anyway i should get off tumblr before it gets too close to triple andi mack, gn my guys.

oh and that’s another thing, i no longer say “good night” or “night” if i’m going to sleep. like to my pets i’ll say “gn” like if i’m with goose i’ll say “gn gb” or sometimes i’ll say “gn spade” or “gn sissy” or on the rare occasion they’re all in my room, “gn bbs”.

also i feel a lot safer when my cats stay in my room with me.

I know for a fact that Mr always kept me safe.

I miss my baby boy.

Baby boys.

I miss both of them. Mr and Bear.

I miss Annoyance too but i know he’s okay, alive, safe.

i also will sometimes stop singing or dancing or talking because i sense something around me.

i also kind of feel like what ever is here is protecting me somewhat because nothing like the thing at my aunts house has happened here.

uhh, yeah, gn my guys.

i’m scared.

[myaekingheart]

I feel like I’ve been overthinking food and my weight a lot lately. Past couple nights I’ve had dreams about weight and this weekend, I’ve felt super anxious about food. My boyfriend’s mother was up from Saturday until this morning and she lowkey exhausted the fuck out of me. Sometimes I wonder if she even understands the definition of chill, she always wants to run around and do something and go places like there’s never a relaxing day with her. Yesterday, we went to four different thrift stores, three of which were Goodwill, and that alone was exhausting as fuck. What made it even worse is that the concept of eating when she’s up is always so...stressful. She just never fucking eats, and neither does my boyfriend, but she’s always wanting to take us out to eat but neither of them care where we go so then all the pressure to make a decision almost always rests on me. And then it takes us like an hour to decide where to eat and I’ll be starving and I’ll just want to like eat toast or some shit for breakfast but then I don’t want to eat only for them to be like “Okay let’s go out and get food” and me not be hungry, you know? I feel like it’s socially unacceptable to not eat if you’re going out to a restaurant so there’s always this paranoia about social standards and shit. On Sunday, we went to WingStop and got some food and we ate in the restaurant which we never fucking do (we always just get food to go) and I mean, wings are fucking messy. I was hungry and I wanted to eat (even though I knew there was a very high chance I’d get sick because we were going to the movies afterward which is a hardcore HIGH ANXIETY environment for me and I try to avoid it at all fucking costs) but in the back of my mind all I could think about was how fucking ridiculous I looked, I was making a huge fucking mess, I had sauce all over my hands and all over my face. This one woman walked into the restaurant to order some food herself and she laughed at me, saying that’s how she was going to look once she got her order. On one hand, I was super self-conscious but on the other I didn’t even care? Or maybe that’s what I kept trying to tell myself, that I didn’t give a fuck if I, a full grown adult, was eating wings like a toddler eats cake on her birthday (or anything on any day, for that matter). Yesterday was perhaps the worst in regards to my relationship with food, though. For starters, I was beginning to feel insanely burnt out. His mother had been running us ragged all weekend and last week was the week from hell, I could not catch a break, topped off with the fact that I relapsed in the self harm department last Wednesday, told my therapist and boyfriend about it on Thursday, and then had a massive argument with my boyfriend about it over text messaging that took up all Friday afternoon and left me in hysterical tears for four hours straight, so all I had the capacity to do was clean the house in preparation for this weekend. I was so looking forward to a three-day weekend, too, but unfortunately I couldn’t even enjoy some R+R because of his mother. The only thing keeping me going is the promise of Thanksgiving break next week, honestly, even though I know the minute we come back from that it’s all downhill from there prepping for finals. But anyways, so yesterday I was feeling super burnt out which was bad enough but then that made the food issues even worse. By the time we got ready and figured out what we wanted to do, we didn’t eat our first meal of the day until fucking 2pm and I was already starting to feel dizzy and nauseous. We went to an unfamiliar restaurant where I got a good burger that I ate in it’s entirety, which led to my boyfriend’s mother commenting “She’s hungry!!” and halfway through my food I started getting some serious food-vertigo (which is basically a thing I just made up where sometimes the prospect of eating makes me dizzy and I start to feel kind of sick and anxious). This food-vertigo and exhaustion lasted throughout the entire rest of the day as I was dragged to four different thrift stores and Sam’s Club (I find it funny that after all of this, his mother had the audacity to say she didn’t get everything done up here that she wanted and that the time flew by way too fast like um okay...). I was grateful that she bought me a hoodie I found to use for a Hinata cosplay and my own bluetooth beanie after getting my boyfriend one for his birthday, like I will never say no to someone buying something for me, I was just simultaneously so fucking tired. I knew I had to keep going, though, because there was one thing I definitely wanted to get done today and that was to take the annual park picture that my boyfriend and I have taken in front of this waterfall in a nearby park every year on his birthday since we’ve been together. The picture has to be taken at night, though, when the waterfall is lit up, so we had to wait. We decided to go to dinner beforehand at this semi-fancy restaurant that I had also never eaten in before that gave me some mild anxiety. It was dark inside and the ceilings were high and the tables were marble so shiny you could see the ceiling reflected in them which gave me serious anxiety/vertigo. I wasn’t even hungry, either, but I picked at some garlic knots that tasted pretty good. We did end up getting the picture even though his mother’s hands were super shaky so almost every picture she took was blurry as fuck (and she had to use my phone because both her and my boyfriend’s phones were dead af and my phone camera is shit-- I feel like only I know how to properly work it and make the pictures come out decent). At least we did get a decent picture in the end, though, and then we went home for at least some relaxation before bed. Even this morning/today, though, the food anxiety has persisted. All I ate today before “dinner” was a croissant for breakfast which was delicious and I fucking love croissants, my anxiety was just so bad that I still felt kind of vertigo-y as I ate and even with sleeping in an extra fifteen minutes, I was fucking exhausted. All of this was well and good but I didn’t even mention the worst part of all of this: my boyfriend’s mother had a stomach bug the entire time she was here. Apparently she started feeling sick on Thursday night or something, was going to call out of work Friday, but came up on Saturday anyways because yesterday was my boyfriend’s birthday and she refused to miss spending it with him. So on top of everything else, I was also struck with the fear of her getting unexpectedly sick no matter what we did or where we went, as well as stuck with the nuisance of her complaining about how she hadn’t eaten anything since Thursday and that she couldn’t eat and that her stomach was bothering her so much. It made me even more anxious because all I could think about was her puking in the only bathroom in the house and then myself having to interact with that (the toilet that would have been since contaminated with her stomach bug germs) or her running to the bathroom with hand clasped over mouth or something equally nerve-wracking. Every time we went out to eat, she’d barely get any food and anything she did eat was so fucking panicky to watch like all I could think about was her vomiting it all back up again and the risk of that. It made eating even less enjoyable for me, the not-so-friendly neighborhood emetophobic. And now, tonight, I am struck with the horrifying fear that I may have just walked right into a trap. I ate her barely-touched leftovers from Saturday night for dinner and now I’m feeling so nauseous but I can’t tell if it’s because her food was contaminated with her fucking germs or if it’s just my anxiety talking. Either way, I know I cannot afford to be sick right now which makes things that much worse. I’m still so fucking exhausted, too, I still have a bit of that vertigo-y thing going on, I’m stressed, I’m anxious. Everything sucks and I overall just kind of want to die. 

And in terms of the dream, last night I dreamed that I stepped on the scale and had gained seven more pounds than the last time I weighed myself. I know I need to gain weight to be healthy but at the same time, I can’t help but feel so out of control and panicked because I know I gained weight without even trying. Yeah, I eat, like I’ll starve myself but I still eat, but the fact that I recently gained five whole fucking pounds without even trying??? And in the course of, like, a month if eve that??? That is fucking TERRIFYING. Like just...how??? Especially when I didn’t think I was doing anything different, you know? That’s just so nerve-wracking. So of course my subconscious is playing on those fears and feeding me nightmares about gaining even more weight without even trying, leaving me to feel out of control and panicked. I even keep almost gaslighting myself about the real incident, saying maybe I only dreamed that I gained five pounds and that next time I weigh myself, I’ll be back to my usual weight or something, I don’t know. It’s so weird to feel so comfortable at a consistent weight that you know is logically too low for your height and age. Like I panic when I drop too low and I panic when I gain. It’s just so fucking bizarre, I don’t know, man. Maybe I am anorexic after all. I know I have some sort of eating disorder but I’ve always told myself I was super atypical, that I never fit the criteria for any of the real eating disorders, but now...well, now I’m not so sure. I took an assessment with my therapist for this sort of stuff on Thursday morning when I last saw her, so hopefully the next time I see her I’ll get the results and know for sure what the fuck is wrong with me. I don’t know, man, right now everything is just kind of super fucked up. 

[zeoia]

I don’t know if she was handling it poorly or we were handling it poorly, but needless to say, it didn’t go well. 

She was paranoid, I was sleep deprived and then later very distraught because of my own personal health issues. 

Long chatlog under readmore. Again, I don’t know how to interact with someone with borderline personality disorder. I’m not going to pretend to know how it works. I could have been saying all the wrong things. It doesn’t work the same as my depression/anxiety. So I very well could have been the awful person in this scenario. I don’t know. I just know she needed help. 

After everything, I ended up with this in my FB

HER-Yesterday at 11:02 PM

I don't know hwat I've done

I don't know

I don't know

I need to know

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm a terrible person

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

Did you always talk about negative things

That's

HER-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

She said she didn't mind

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

Not true

HER-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

that she could handle me

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

Even if people don't mind they can still be tired out by it

HER-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

I don't know what I did

She was going to visit

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

I don't see you as a bad person

HER-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

I've been saving coins

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

Calm down

HER-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

NO

I WANT TO KNOW

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

You are jumping to conclusions

HER-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT I DID

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

I will talk to her just calm down

HER-Yesterday at 11:04 PM

What if she removed you too

I didn't meant to upset her

I didn't know I had

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:07 PM

She's not online right now so I can't do much until she shows up. If she does for me. Like you said she might have unfriended me too

HER-Yesterday at 11:07 PM

But why#

Why

She was going to visit

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:08 PM

I don't know

Last I talked to her was in May

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

I don't understand

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

I don't talk to her often enough to know, alright?

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

I  don't  understand

People keep telling me they won't hate me

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

Worrying is not going to help

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

but they do!

THEY IE

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

Stop it

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

LIE LIE LIE LIE LIE LIE

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

Stop

You are jumping to conclusions again

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

No I'm not!

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

Yes you are

HER-Yesterday at 11:09 PM

She just stoped my call

I know she did

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:10 PM

?

HER-Yesterday at 11:10 PM

I tried to phone

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:10 PM

Did you try to call her on here

HER-Yesterday at 11:10 PM

I called her phone

2 rings

hang up

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:10 PM

Did you think about the fact that maybe it's kinda late to be taking phonecalls

HER-Yesterday at 11:11 PM

9pm

Is that too late?

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:11 PM

For me yeah

After 8 I don't want my phone ringing

Look, she could be busy

HER-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

She hates me

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

Gimme her phone number and I'll call her in the morning

Stop worrying

HER-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

I don't know if she'd want her number given out

I don't know

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

Stop saying negative stuff like that

HER-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

It's true

I know it is

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

Look

HER-Yesterday at 11:12 PM

I've seen it so many times

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:13 PM

If you keep having that mindset

HER-Yesterday at 11:13 PM

I form a connection with someone

They hate me

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:13 PM

If you keep saying those things

You will make them come true

You will push people away

Because of your paranoia it will come off as you not trusting your friends

And nobody wants to be friends with someone if they aren't trusted

Trust in me and [blank] alright?

If she hated you I don't think she would have given you her phone number

HER-Yesterday at 11:15 PM

She gave it before the hate

The hate is recent

I truested [blank]

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:15 PM

Look it's almost midnight here and I'm tired

HER-Yesterday at 11:15 PM

Please don't hate me too

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:16 PM

Give me a log of your last conversation and I'll analyze it and see if there's any reason to doubt [blank]

I want you to stop acting like it's already over

Like I said, if you keep doing stuff like that

Keep saying stuff like that

You will make it come true yourself because you end up deeming yourself unworthy of friends

But you are loved

HER-Yesterday at 11:17 PM

no.. no no.. I don't like doing that

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:17 PM

So stop saying bad things

Stop making it worse

HER-Yesterday at 11:18 PM

It is over tho... I've seen this before

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:18 PM

Try to keep convincing yourself otherwise

I can't keep talking to a brick wall like this. You're unmoving

You really do not want to feel better apparently

HER-Yesterday at 11:19 PM

With Naomi.. with others.. I've tusted they might come back..

I've seen it too often

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:19 PM

Sometimes people grow apart

It's not uncommon

It sucks but it's not the end of the world

HER-Yesterday at 11:20 PM

But we was fine a week ago... I just got worried about the idea of her bringing Bella...

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:20 PM

I had a friend for nine years

And had to break off the friendship

HER-Yesterday at 11:20 PM

Because she's an illigal breed and I also don't trust her destructivness

Zeoia-Yesterday at 11:21 PM

My brother and his best friend stopped being friends last year. Childhood friends.

They grew apart

It happens

It hurts but it happens

Again I don't know what happened w you and [blank] so I can't say either way

Just give me time

Please be patient

It is almost midnight and I am very tired

June 12, 2018

HER-Today at 12:16 AM

... Another friend was back to add friend too... but I was on the phone to her when I noticed so it was confirmed she didn't hate me... and it must've done it its self..

Zeoia-Today at 12:16 AM

So it's a discord error

HER-Today at 12:16 AM

Maybe...

I don't know

Zeoia-Today at 12:17 AM

I told you that you were jumping to conclusions

HER-Today at 12:17 AM

I don't know

Zeoia-Today at 12:17 AM

Technology does weird shit all the time

Eating messages, removing friends, altering settings

It's not uncommon

HER-Today at 12:20 AM

"Your message could not be delivered because you don't share a server with the recipient or you disabled direct messages on your shared server, recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends, or you were blocked by the recipient."

Goes back to panic

Zeoia-Today at 12:23 AM

If it accidentally removed friends for you then it would also have removed you from her list

Anyway I'm sleepy

Gnight

HER-Today at 12:56 AM

I don't know if me and the other person were ever friends or just server buddies now

HER-Today at 5:05 AM

You still show as a mutual friend on her thing... it is clear now she hates me and this is targeted at me.. The worst thing is dreaming about it.. waking up and it's still real.

Zeoia-Today at 5:05 AM

Stop it stop it stop it.

Your negative thinking, your constant pessimist views on everything, they're exhausting, even for the people who still love and care about you.

I got a response from her and she told me herself that she doesn't hate you

But your behavior is extremely upsetting

It's exhausting

HER-Today at 5:08 AM

I don't know what I said

Zeoia-Today at 5:08 AM

I don't know either

HER-Today at 5:08 AM

I didn't know she was getting upset

Zeoia-Today at 5:08 AM

Give me a moment I am on mobile

HER-Today at 5:09 AM

She told me if there was problems she'd tell me first

Zeoia-Today at 5:10 AM

I don't hate her. I am managing okay. I unfriended her for my sanity. I've told her in the past what my problem was and she hasn't done anything to stop. I cut her from my life so I wouldn't keep getting upset. I can't demand her to change. I can't expect her to change. I've told her my problem and hoped she would improve. That never happened. What I can do is remove myself from the situation.

If you want you can reassure her that I'm managing okay, I don't hate her, and I already told her my issue. I am removing myself from the situation so I don't keep getting upset. She should accept that and stop dragging others into her messes.

Directly from [blank] herself.

HER-Today at 5:10 AM

I don't understand

Zeoia-Today at 5:11 AM

ARE YOU READING WHAT I JUST POSTED

look I just woke up to go to the bathroom but I decided to check on you before going back to sleep

Excuse me for being blunt but I'm not sure beating around the bush is going to help.

You need a lot of mental help from a counselor. Your behavior makes people very upset. You are always talking about bad things and are always upset about something.

HER-Today at 5:14 AM

I can't think what promote

Problem

Zeoia-Today at 5:14 AM

I don't hate you. I don't think anyone hates you

LISTEN TO ME.

I am telling you right now

Stop thinking. Stop typing. LISTEN.

HER-Today at 5:15 AM

She told me she was able to handle it better

Zeoia-Today at 5:15 AM

She thought she was

Look

Stop

Stop typing

Do not make any more thoughts with your brain on the subject

[blank] is a strong person. She has been through a lot of shit. But even when people are strong, there are some things that weigh them down and they will wear a smile anyway, even if they are hurting

I'm in a similar situation with someone where I have to limit contact for my fucking sanity

I don't hate them. There wasn't just one instance of a problem

Just overall we don't mix well

Until you get help, you are probably going to end up pushing people away again

I don't want to upset you. I don't want you to think that I hate you

But I have to be honest

You keep saying stuff like "it's going to happen, I know it" and inviting yourself to just fucking fulfill that prophecy

HER-Today at 5:21 AM

She proved it

Zeoia-Today at 5:21 AM

Get. Some. Help.

See a counselor

HER-Today at 5:21 AM

THEY DON'T WANT TO

Zeoia-Today at 5:21 AM

Your friends are not counselors

HER-Today at 5:22 AM

They see me all fine.

Zeoia-Today at 5:22 AM

What kinda fucking bullshit counselors are you seeing that don't see that there's a problem

HER-Today at 5:23 AM

They don't see me on the floor screaming because I've got emotional intensity disorder

Zeoia-Today at 5:23 AM

I DEMAND you to go looking into more counselors

I DEMAND you to show them our chat log from today

Like, save this chat log. Fucking save all of it

I want you to get better because at this rate you are going to believe yourself into a permanent state of"the whole world is against me"

HER-Today at 5:26 AM

I want to talk to [blank]... We was going to do adventures... she told me we'd do adventures... does she think I was being emotionally manipulative.. that was her big issue before..

I'm already there

Zeoia-Today at 5:29 AM

Yeah, you are emotionally manipulative. I'm sorry for being honest but you are literally right here right now, in my direct messages, demanding to know what you did to make [blank] upset. You are extremely clingy from what I can tell, and it is probably because you have abandonment issues.

This behavior probably upsets [blank] a lot more than you think because she just got out of a very toxic relationship with someone. Y'know. The one where she had to move because she was abused

HER-Today at 5:30 AM

I know

But I can't even think when I was doing it

Zeoia-Today at 5:31 AM

I'm aware

That is your problem.

You don't realize when you are upsetting people

You don't know how manipulative you can get. You are tugging at me currently, because [blank] is no longer there for you

I didn't just go through a terrible divorce with a manipulative lying prick so I can handle your manipulative behavior a bit better

But you have to fucking get some help

Do not just give up

Look at it like a video game. Do you get further in a video game just by being all like "oh, the characters told me I can't go this way even though it's the only way to the next area"

You need to get better and the only way you can get better is to demand that someone fucking help you

Who is currently in your life right now? IRL I mean.

HER-Today at 5:35 AM

No. I do give up. I can't do this. I can't do this screaming.. I didn't try to manipulate her into anything. I always told her things were ultimately her choice. Yes I got upset with the dog idea but it was still ultimately up to her. I just might've liked her to stay elsewhere...

Zeoia-Today at 5:36 AM

You are too upset all the time

HER-Today at 5:36 AM

It comes with the fucking disorder.

Zeoia-Today at 5:36 AM

I know that

And you need to get more help for it

Don't tell me they won't help

Because I know there's someone out there who can and will help

HER-Today at 5:37 AM

The government has cut their resources so much

Zeoia-Today at 5:38 AM

Okay? I live in shit hole America where we have to pay out the ass just to get a fucking checkup

Use your fucking resources.

HER-Today at 5:38 AM

I'm fucking trying

Zeoia-Today at 5:39 AM

You are on the internet right now

Google shit. Look for local support groups.

Look for meetups..group counseling. Something

I can't do this for you

I'm also mentally ill

My mother is mentally ill

My mom went through abuse and is also manipulative and doesn't always see what she does wrong

HER-Today at 5:41 AM

calls 999

Zeoia-Today at 5:41 AM

But she still has her shit together to the point where she can try to get some fucking help

What city do you live in

I'll Google shit for you but don't depend on me to do everything for you

HER-Today at 5:42 AM

Crawley west sussex

Zeoia-Today at 5:42 AM

Because if I end up having to babysit you, you will in fact end up pushing me away

HER-Today at 5:43 AM

I'm getting a bloody ambulance

Zeoia-Today at 5:45 AM

What is your disorder

I'm going to make our conversation publicly available and ask around for help because I really don't want you suffering like this

HER-Today at 5:46 AM

Boarderline

Zeoia-Today at 5:46 AM

Okay

Borderline personality disorder?

HER-Today at 5:47 AM

Yes

Zeoia-Today at 6:00 AM

I will try to find someone who is also living with borderline personality disorder

But is taking steps to get better

Because it's clear to me that you are not

And I don't know how to handle someone who has the disorder

I made a post but I will try again later. We aren't going to see instant results

This shit takes time

But you yourself need to try to get hel

Help

You have to want to get better

Again, I don't know how to deal with the disorder so I'm probably not the best person to be telling you what to do

But there are plenty of other people out there with the disorder you can talk to and get help from

But I'm not one of those people

I must sleep. I have been getting headaches due to lack of sleep. Good night.

HER-Today at 6:10 AM

I'm in an ambulance being taken to see an emergency psych

It was the only way I could think to get help now

The thing is they take so long to see you I'll be slightly calmer when they talk to me. Then decide I'm ok..

I'm scared of things being public.. they'll think I'm stupid

HER-Today at 9:25 AM

Been given the mental health line number (again) and a thing to calm me down and sent home. No follow up.. but they think my GP should review my medication.(edited)

https://sussexrecoverycollege.org.uk/ Also this..

Zeoia-Today at 12:02 PM

I can't today. Please don't keep messaging me about your problems today. I need help. I'm suffering and hurting and I won't be able to see an affordable doctor for three fucking months. I'm sorry but I just don't have the mental stability to deal with both of our problems. Not right now.

Zeoia-Today at 2:03 PM

I’m not going to be responsible for anyone else’s emotions, actions and behaviors. It’s impossible. I have pointed out the problem previously to her. I will not keep myself in a situation that constantly hurts both of us. I can’t change her but I can change the situation.

I don’t like the statement about being her favorite person. It’s a type of manipulative wording used in the guilt game. I don’t play that game. HER is the only one who can fix this and it is her choice to make and act on. I suggest you don’t try to talk me into ‘fixing things’ because if it’s worded like the above statement I am going to get annoyed.

[blank] told me this. And I told you the same thing. You need to help you.

Anyway do not respond to this. I really don't want to talk about your problems right now because I'm in a super shitty health situation and the last thing I need is something stressing me out to the point of hospitalization.

https://www.westsussexconnecttosupport.org/s4s/WhereILive/Council?pageId=988 Hi - this is a link to information re Mental Health Services in West Sussex, hope it helps. Your friend can call the Samaritans on 116 123. Hope it all works out.

Zeoia-Today at 6:27 PM

"One of doggos turned out to be a professionally trained service dog. Eddie wasn’t a perfect match but he helped me so much. I had to put him down on the 31st of May. I’m trying to train my other doggo (a pittie) to do some of the similar tasks. I mentioned bringing Bella with me when I go to the UK (pitties are banned there). She freaked out and tried to manipulate me into not keeping my doggo with me. I had put down my service doggo the other day and I was hurting so badly. I told her to drop it, that’s my problem. She complained to others who called her out for being selfish. I do my DnD with friends on Friday nights. She tried to call me and tried to get me to drop DnD to calm her down from a meltdown about being called out for being selfish. After that she still didn’t drop it and called Bella an illegal dog. I was so hurt and disappointed. I got livid. I avoided her for over a week because I knew I would lash out and be mean to hurt her. She kept trying to contact me with increasingly manipulative statements until I finally blocked her before I hurt someone. I had talked to her before about my issues with manipulation. I tried to wait and calm down. I am done with that kinda treatment. Now you know what made me so mad."

From [blank] herself.

She tried to explain. And I tried to tell you. But it's like it goes through one ear and out the other. You need serious help from mental health specialists. You can't keep on attaching to people the way you do because it hurts them.

HER-Today at 6:28 PM

I had paranoia about the dog.

Zeoia-Today at 6:29 PM

Drop the thing about the dog.

Stop focusing on the dog.

HER-Today at 6:29 PM

I was struggling myself

Zeoia-Today at 6:29 PM

That is not the only issue.

[blank] has been through too much shit to be able to handle someone with borderline personality disorder.

She literally just got out of a manipulative and abusive relationship and you are here, saying manipulative things. She tried to be patient with you. But she didn't have to. She tried to because she cared. And she still cares.

But your dependence on her was not healthy for either of you. And if you try to depend on me, I guarantee you I will drop you like a hot pan.

I am not here to be manipulated. I am not here to be used. I am not here to be a counselor. I'm trying to offer advice, but I can't help you seek assistance. Especially when I'm trying to figure out how to deal with becoming physically disabled. So stop it. Just. Stop complaining. Stop trying manipulate other people to deal with your problems. Stop depending on others to do shit for you. Keep going to therapy. Going to groups. Looking up resources. It's your life. You have control over what you do. not me.

HER-Today at 6:33 PM

I WASN'T TRYING TO MANIPULATE TTHINGS(edited)

I was nervous about having a dog!

Zeoia-Today at 6:33 PM

Lisa.

Lisa.

It's not about the dog.

HER-Today at 6:33 PM

It clearly fuckiing started it

Zeoia-Today at 6:33 PM

Let me tell you something.

You say sad and upsetting things a lot.

It is very very tiring.

HER-Today at 6:35 PM

I AM NOT MANIPULATING HER

I AM NI

OT

Zeoia-Today at 6:35 PM

no you aren't.

because you aren't in touch with her anymore.

HER-Today at 6:35 PM

She is making shit up!!

Zeoia-Today at 6:35 PM

nor are you in touch with me. get some help.

HER-Today at 6:35 PM

I DID TODAY

Zeoia-Today at 6:35 PM

NOT JUST TODAY. ALL THE TIME. GET. SOME. HELP.

Goodbye.

[sintropy-system]

I'm genuinely suprised why this isn't a law already. I'm certain there's "standards" being met that make the commerical okay to be aired, but those standards should definitely be raised to not cause harm to audiences with mental and physical illnesses/disorders /gen/historical

not to mention how these ads are purposefully meant to imbue discomfort into their audience in order to scare them into not vaping. They did it for us with cigarettes, now cigarettes are phased out, and now they're going to do it with vaping because thats whats cool^tm to the kids of this upcoming generation. Like its literally meant to cause panic in the brains of young children and make them associate it with "bad".

Similar to the same idea of how so many of gen z is fucking terrified of driving. The commercials and things they made us sit through? simulated car crashes to show the potential damage? the amount of harm potentially left on a young child witn that potential trauma is terrifying. Imagine seeing that and remembering it everytime you get into a car, and having paranoia on top of that. Thats a child with autism or someone with the ability to recall associated things.

Maybe thats why they throw hundai commercials in the mix, to change what we associate it with

But as a teen who went through multiple car crashes as a child, that shit made it worse and now i cant handle the thought of driving. So they're trying to create a trauma response to where they think "i cant handle the thought of smoking"

ugh i wish there were laws that made ads like….non-offensive? i dont even mean like content-wise, i mean that i just got an ad pretending it was for some sort of anti-anxiety product with soothing music and scenery, before glitching, rapidly flashing colors, distorted voices, and loud grating audio to say “vaping nicotine makes anxiety worse”

the fact that it was a psa is even worse to me, like you think you’re helping people? you think deliberately trying to trigger anxiety, panic attacks, epilepsy, and frankly too many other Really Bad Brain Times for me to name here, is FINE? this isnt like “oh you put in a spider and some people are afraid of them” this was like, deliberately triggering as many different people as possible. with no skip button. that should genuinely be illegal.

[licncourt-replies]

Dear Anti Tony Stark Community,

yes, I am well aware that Tony Stark is fictional, as do I understand why it may be difficult to understand a character you may not be able to relate to. However, I don’t think many of you realize the message you’re sending to fellow Marvel fans, and people and general with mental illnesses. By not supporting and validating his manifestations of mental illness, you harm an already taboo and shunned community of people who’s symptoms, like Tony’s, can be destructive and scary.  I 100% empathize with Team Cap. Bucky has been through unimaginable pain and deserves to be protected and supported, as do most of the others. Bucky is seen as a martyr. His pain, his suffering, his mental illness is “pure” and “beautiful”. He is on a pedestal. His issues are handled in an idealized fashion.  As someone who is has symptoms in both categories, I’m not saying Bucky isn’t valid, he very much is, HOWEVER, don’t you dare tell me that Tony Stark is not valid in his pain as well. All of the demonized traits and actions of the man you hate so much stem directly from his own issues. From the beginning of his life, he was a victim of verbal, emotional, and (if the comics are being followed in MCU) physical.  That alone fucks shit up in a person.  Over the course of his life, he’s been taken advantage of by “friends” and romantic partners, betrayed by his only father figure (Obadiah) and best friend (Rhodey in IM2), degraded and demonized by the media and press, kidnapped by terrorists, tortured repeatedly (as a civilian, nonetheless), suffered (misplaced) guilt and over illegal weapons dealing he had no part in and dedicates his life to making right, had a near death experience with the arc reactor, experienced severe PTSD after flying a nuke into a wormhole to save the world, had his mind manipulated by Wanda to take advantage of his love for his teammates and need to protect the world, been physically and mentally abused by said teammates/friends (Natasha in IM2, after he trusts her, Thor in AoU, Team Cap in CW), found out his parents were murdered after having it kept from him by a trusted friend, left by the woman he loves, and other more minor things as well (feel free to add to that list yourself).  

Tony Stark’s mental illness is different than the rest of the MCU characters because it is not beautiful.  He is depressed, paranoid, traumatized, and isolated.  I’m not saying he is guiltless, far from it.  He made bad choices.  He has been selfish, ignorant, volatile, confrontational, defensive, and irresponsible.  But that doesn’t discount his suffering.  Drawing on my own experiences and research, he has classic PTSD and anxiety (panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, paranoia), severe symptoms of depression (isolation, self deprecation, alcohol abuse, suicidal tendencies, guilt, hopelessness), and a possible bipolar or personality disorder (manic energy/hyperactivity, impulsiveness, restlessness, anger).  His creation of Ultron (and other post-Afghanistan behavior) was, in my opinion, the culmination of severe, UNTREATED mental illness and trauma.  There is no evidence in any canon of him receiving counseling, medication or support for his issues, nor are they treated with the consideration, care, or sympathy of the others.  Instead, he becomes the villain.  

The point I’m trying to make is that alienating and abusing those with destructive manifestations of mental illness is not only wrong, it’s harmful to the individual, as well as society.  Mental illness is not pretty or easily sympathized with.  It can be screaming and anger and pushing loved ones away.  It can be recklessness and mania and skewed judgement and ugly breakdowns.  Tony and Bucky are different, but in many ways the same.  The only reason that one is adored and the other hated, is the stigma surrounding an honest portrayal of mental illness.  When you call Tony Stark a villain, a selfish bastard and an irresponsible, egotist, all you’re doing is telling the world that you only support those with depression, PTSD, anxiety and other disorders if they fit into a glorified mold of what mental illness is.  What validates one character demonizes another.  When you say those things, you hurt people like me who love Tony because we see ourselves in him.  He’s not unattainable or better than us.  He is relatable.  He is me.  It feels amazing to see someone we admire so much in a flawed way that makes us feel valid and represented in a positive way, not as the villain, but as the hero for once.  Whether you agree with me or not is up to you, but please, PLEASE, at least think about what you’re saying next time you post.  It could be more hurtful than you know.  Remember, pain is relative, and there is no one size fits all for mental illness.  Support people in pain, even if it’s not easy.

( @itstonystarkbitch back me up, fam)

[insidethecrack]

Why am I mad at the cinema...

I know some of you were waiting for the next part of the Dandelion Effect articles, but something came out and it couldn’t really wait. Thank you for your patience!

I just found out about the movie Split, and I wish I didn’t, because I spent a huge part of my Saturday crying. Here it is: another movie with a multiple personality disordered killer. Cynical sarcastic me: How great is that? Really, that was really all the world needed. So new and provocative. Angry me: aren’t they never gonna get tired of this shit?

No they’re not, sorry angry me. And there are so many reasons to be angry I don’t even know how to start the list… So maybe I should answer to what I’ve been told (most of the time by very well intentioned people who really wanted to make me feel better)(I write this because if you’re one of them I want you to know that I know you mean well, and I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at the world who let you think these are good arguments, or let movie like Split exists. Also I probably love you in a way or another so I want to make sure I can clearly explain you my point and not hurting you in the process, I really hope I won’t fail at this last part…). Sorry if, once again, the article is particularly messy. You can ask me to reexplain something if it’s not clear enough.

This movie is not about schizophrenia. Truth is, this not the problem. Really. I didn’t calm down when I learnt that for once cinema did tell apart schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder. Reason 1: there is nothing to be proud of here, that’s basic research work. Last week, I told my students I wouldn’t congratulate them for coming up at the right time, they are supposed to do so, that’s the basic rule of school. Same here. When you make a movie about a mental illness, it’s basic work to simply know a few facts about those mental illnesses. But as students don’t show up on time at class, cinema doesn’t often do its basic research work. Which leads us to reason 2: cinema never really cares about the differences between schizophrenia and multiple personality together. So here we are, schizophrenic and MPD people, stuck in the same boat thanks to the cinema even if our struggles can barely be compared. As a schizophrenic friend brilliantly put it yesterday “We are in the same boat do to our shared frustration of being forced into the same boat”. Quite ironic isn’t it? So I will consider we are in the same boat. Because even if the movie does make the difference, it’s still fucking uncool with MPD people, and it’s the same problem. Plus, the cinema has forgotten this difference so many times a lot of people barely know there is one.

People can do the difference between reality and fiction! No they don’t. And I should know, I’m schizophrenic, so I know quite a lot about the ability to know the difference between reality and non-reality. And believe me, one of the biggest problem of neurotypical persons is that they are unable to consider that there is more than one reality, or that their reality is biased, which means it’s their reality and not The Reality. So here is the problem: there are a fucking lot of stigmas around mental illnesses. And there are even more stigmas around schizophrenia and MPD. Do you know why? Cinema, TV shows, medias… Can you name movies where the schizophrenic / MPD person IS NOT a fucking psycho killer? I can name one… only one. When there are so many psycho killer… Where are the movies / books / stories where people like me gets to be teacher doctors physicians parents social workers lawyer singers or whatever? Where are they? We need those stories so bad…

For the world: it’s human, when you’re shown with the exact version of the reality over and over again, you tend to believe there is no other way. It’s such an old trick, and it works for everything. You’re waging war and you need your people to kill with no second-thought? Keep portraying the enemy as rapist/killer/monster and no problem! You want people to accept to lose their freedoms in the name of security? Keep telling them they’re in danger and that’s the solution! You want people to buy water/milk because of the taxes or just because you produced too much? Keep telling them science proved you need to drink 1,5liters of water a day! The difference is, no one really wants people to believe schizophrenic / MPD people are psycho killers. (well I hope there is no one…)(I shouldn’t have written that, it’s giving ideas to my paranoia) But it’s the same principle: it’s the only thing you ever about schizophrenic / MPD people. Maybe you don’t realise it, but your mind is already biased, even if you think it’s not.

To sound a bit less judgy, I will also judge me. I realised that I was getting more suspicious or afraid or uncomfortable around people of colour. How ridiculous is that? A lot. Objectively, intellectually, I know that they are not more dangerous than white people. I KNOW that, I believe it, there is no way you can make me say that coloured people are more dangerous. But still, when I go home alone and there are groups of coloured people, I feel a bit more in danger than with white people. So there was a difference between what my brain knows and what my body knows. I had to dissect myself to solve this issue (that’s the good point of being schizophrenic: your mind is so broken there is always one part to dissect and judge the other one. Sometimes, it can be very useful!). The answer was obvious: most of the time, they are the bad guys of the movies, and even in the news. Even if I didn’t believe in those racist bullshits, I’ve heard and eaten so much of it without knowing it that my mind was biased. I’m working on it because I can’t let that happen. (and now I’m pretty happy to announce that my paranoia is quite the same around coloured AND white people)(what? I never said white people didn’t scare me)

You don’t realise it, but movies about schizophrenic / MPD killer (or “crazy persons needing to be committed to the closest asylum” which is our second option) are doing the same to you. Even if a part of your brain knows that you’re watching fiction, another part of your brain is taking notes. The only way to get out of the bias in your mind, is to realise that they do exist. Which means that you must be ready to consider that bias may exist in your mind. Believe me, neurotypical persons simply aren’t the best at this… Not because they are bad people or stupid people or any bullshit like this, but because the simple question of reality has never been a problem to them. So please, do realise that there are bias in your mind. We all have some of our own. And maybe you already know and you’re already working on it (if so, you’re already working at making the world a better place and it’s great!).

But a lot of people don’t. And it’s hard for us. If you’re fighting bias like sexism homophobia racism and all their friends, you know what I’m talking about. It’s the same. Except that I can sometimes try to explain a guy why what he’s saying is sexist and why it’s a problem. But when it comes to psychophobia…  Have you ever experienced being described as a psycho killer at your workplace? Because I did.  Sure, my coworkers were joking “we should be careful, customers will drive us crazy and we’ll turn schizophrenic and kill them!” SO FUNNY isn’t it? I guess I have no sense of humour. At this exact same moment, my schizophrenia was killing me. Evelyn, the Madness, was turning my life into a gigantic big brother experiment. All day long I was followed by men covered of eyes, literally, they had eyes all over their faces their arms their chest. They were counting my steps my breathes my words. They were counting down. I had no way to know how much step breathe and word I have left, the only thing I know was that when the countdown would hit 0, I would disappear in pain. I had to work with this fear, doing panic attacks in my car, wanting to hurt myself at work to make it stop. But the eyes were always watching me. And I was alone dealing with this. No one I could tell. I was almost glad when some big shit happens at work because when it did, people would assume I was pissed because of it and wouldn’t ask anything, I wouldn’t have to lie to them or to hide what was really happening. And while I was dealing with all this alone, my coworkers were joking about schizophrenic psycho killers. Which proved me that I should shut up. Which makes everything worse. Hide yourself hide your scars keep saying the voices.

How many times have I chosen silence over talking my issues? How many times have I almost died because of this choice? I’m afraid to say anything to anyone because what if I didn’t prove them enough that I wasn’t a crazy psycho killer and they think I am and just abandon me ?

And here I am, day after day, trying to fight the silence, but ending up choosing silence on a regular basis because there are still so many movies like Split to prove me that silence is my best option. Those movies are feeding my isolation, our isolation. Those movies are making it worse.

Because they maintain the terrible representation people have of us. But also because they can trigger us.

This point may be more personal, but I’m sure it can work in a way or another for other people (even if it can be slightly different for them). One of the main point of Evelyn is that I’m a monster, like the worst thing that ever happened on Earth, something terrible that should have never happened. To prove her wrong, and prove me I’m worthy, I try to do all the good I can. It might sound cheesy, and maybe it is. But anyway, I’m doing my best on every field: I try to be here for my friend, to listen to them, to help them in any way, to keep their secret, to bring them home when drunk, etc. I try to learn as many things as possible to be a better feminist and “activist” and understand as many different points of view as I can. I try to produce the best research I can in my PhD so it can help people in different ways. I try to write for other, to tell stories. Etc etc. On the one hand, I hope it can balance the rot in me. On the other hand, like Evelyn says, as I’m doing all of those things to balance the rot, it only proves that I’m rotten, so it doesn’t really count, I’m still a fucking piece of rot. (I’m pretty sure I will die of exhaustion in trying to balance the rot side of me) Can you guess what happens when one more movie with a schizophrenic / MPD killer is released? Yes, Evelyn earns more points to show me how rotten I am. Why am I bothering with all these when the world has already decided I was nothing more than a crazy monster? Those movies are not harmless, they kill all my work to be a better person and to prove myself that I’m not a monster, it’s only the madness in me talking. Thank you Split, I’ll have to start from scratch again this week… I feel so dispossessed of my own life and mine since yesterday…

You can’t judge the quality of a movie without seeing it. Maybe I should have started here. The quality of the movie is not the point. I don’t care. I couldn’t care less. In fact, it could be The Best Movie Ever Made I wouldn’t care anyway. I’m not judging the quality of the movie. I’m judging the world allowing this kind of movies without offering other possibilities for schizophrenic / MPD people. I’m judging a world where people can calling me a murderer and I don’t even have the right to be angry because if I do I will be taken to be the next psycho killer and I will not be able to deal with this irony. I’m judging a world where people are allowed to judge schizophrenic / MPD people without knowing them, but where schizophrenic / MPD people are not allowed to judge movies without seeing them. Don’t you feel that there is some kind of fucked priorities here? Why can my coworkers can joke about people like me being a psycho killer without problem but I can’t say this movie is a piece of crap without people falling on my back?

I don’t mind if you liked this movie. It’s ok. It’s not my point. If you’ve paid to see this at the theatre I hope you had a good moment. But please remember, those movies are feeing misrepresentations about people like me. Thanks to those misrepresentations, I’ve lost friends, boyfriends. Friends of mine have lost their job. This didn’t happen to me because I always find a way to keep it secret, but I’m pretty sure it’s better if the parents of my students never learn this. All I’m asking you if you’ve enjoyed the movie (or other of the same kind), is to consider the bias it’s making in your mind. And when you have spotted them, please, spread the word. People like me need people you to be more aware so we can feel safe. We need people like you not to feed our madness.

I spent my Saturday crying and asking friends to tell me I was not a monster. I belong to the lucky ones: I have friends who know my struggles and are ready to help and shit like this hits the fan. Some people don’t. It’s not written on our faces. And maybe you worked with schizophrenic / MPD people. Maybe some of your friends are. My coworkers never know. Some of my close friends still don’t know. Be careful. We need to know we can trust you before telling you. We need to know you won’t abandon us, proving us we are the monsters they show.

The article is already so fucking long, but I want to end it on something positive, something that could help both neurotypical and people with a mental illness. It’s an amazing idea coming from a non-less amazing person from the Sloths group. What about collecting the movies / books / shows with good representation of mental illnesses? If you know some, please, let me know, I will compile a list and share with the world. I want to discover another bias in my brain: our tendency to always see the bad things, not the good ones. I’m sure there are goods stories told in the world about all this. If you know some, even one, throw the name!

Thank you for your reading, your concern, your loving and reassuring words.

PS: this article is 4 pages long. Look! I didn’t chose silence this time! How great is that?