#I guess being able to experience an emotion fully is better than suppressing it but christ alive

[fealtyfaggot]

:(

[demonologist-in-denim]

Review of Falling Skies by VivatRex

The first Crowley redemption fanfic I ever came across was Falling Skies by VivatRex. This was shortly after 8x23 aired, and at the time, there wasn’t much fic out there involving Crowley that portrayed him as anything other than a villain. (There still isn’t, to be fair.) And there definitely wasn’t much out there in which Crowley actively sought redemption, much less worked alongside and eventually earned himself a place among the Winchester extended family. So the fact that Falling Skies was a slow burn Mooseley fic was just something I was willing to accept in order to read what I was desperately looking for in a Crowley fic.

I was inspired by this post to go back and reread Falling Skies for the first time since it was completed in 2015. All 328,000+ words of it. It’s certainly the longest fanfic I’ve ever read. And I’ve read fanfics that more closely align to what I’m looking for – but because this was my first Crowley redemption fanfic, I’ve never forgotten it. There are parts of it - scenes, even single lines - that I vividly recall. There are scenes and dynamics and plot points in this fic that were significant influences on my own writing, and are so deeply entrenched in my understanding of post-cure Crowley that rereading this fic felt like some tantalizingly familiar part of myself echoing back to me after a long absence. This is the longest review I have ever written, but then, it is a very long fic.

To quickly summarize the fic, Falling Skies begins after 8x23, with the angels falling to earth and Sam having collapsed from attempting to abort the demon trials. The overarching plot follows Dean, Sam, humanized Cas and resentfully cured Crowley as they attempt to deal with the fallout of Abaddon’s return and the shuttering of the Gates of Heaven. Along the way, a new villainous angel makes a play to rule both Heaven and Hell, angels and demons battle out their differences on Earth in a massive slaughter, and the Man Tablet is discovered, which reveals that the ultimate apocalypse involves merging all the known planes of existence into a hellish nightmare. Throughout all of this, Crowley struggles with a blood-born conscience that begins to form itself into a soul, a mental and emotional link that now connects him and Sam due to the incomplete cure, and rival selves: the cunning, successful King of Hell and a man haunted by his past, longing to make amends. It’s equal parts Mooseley, Destiel, and a season’s worth of near-world ending scenario.

Scenes from this fic that I’ll never forget:

The opening scene is Crowley in the church at the end of 8x23, beset by guilt and shame as he can feel for the first time in hundreds of years the depth of pain and suffering he’s caused.

His reaction shortly after the aborted cure to remembering he killed Meg. “Crowley’s stomach twisted in a painful knot at the thought of Meg…The unspeakable acts that hadn’t seemed unspeakable at all at the time…He promptly rolled down the Impala’s window. He leaned out, vomiting onto the road.”

The scene in which Crowley admits to Sam that he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself after the cure, “if you’d cured me, I would’ve hung myself the minute I found a long enough rope.”

The scene in which Crowley faces the demon who tortured him on the rack, and sees himself in comparison to that demon, hears his own awful words to Kevin, “What you people fail to under is that you are nothing” and “it makes him sick to what little remained of his soul to think that his mindset had been similar to this…only a few months prior. That he hadn’t been much better than this, once.”

Fergus’ death scene was particularly memorable. Driven by fear of his own impending death and going to Hell, he accidently kills someone he loves, and takes his own life by hanging. It’s not ever the backstory I would have imagined for him, but it was written with real heart behind it.

Having chosen to complete the cure, that Crowley receives complete forgiveness. Whatever substitutes for divine authority in this fic restores his soul fully, forgives him for all his past sins, and frees Crowley from the ruinous effects of damnation. “He’d been forgiven. Crowley sobbed into his hands.” It’s not the story I would have written for Crowley, but at a time when Crowley redemption fic was almost nonexistent, this was powerful.

In a rare moment in which Cas is being a self-righteous asshole, Dean remarks that “you’re really reminding me of someone…a douche bag I met back in ’08 who threatened to throw me back into Hell if I didn’t show him the respect he deserved.” Later, after he’s had time to calm down and begins to feel guilt, Cas asks “The ‘douche bag’ who raised you from Hell. Did you hate him?”

This fic offered a lot of the emotional struggles and scenes, the waypoints, I wanted to see along Crowley’s road of redemption.

His struggle with embracing more human emotions and perspective. His subconscious and then intentional rejection of the monster he used to be.

Being offered a choice between more power and more humanity, and after a long internal struggle, choosing humanity.

Ultimately choosing the Winchesters and (Crowley’s own conception of) the greater good over demonic self-interests. Choosing “one tiny forever [with people he cared about over] a never-ending existence” without them.

Crowley grasping – and openly admitting to valuing – humanity for its own sake. And that while in becoming less demon and more human, in becoming family with the Winchesters, he may lose his powers and influence, his immortality and near-invincibility, that he gained everything else. “Love, friendship, family, redemption…It’s all worth it!”

Crowley in this fic is written as having that change of heart and perspective because of and for Sam’s sake, and I very much write all of that happening for Crowley’s own sake and born of something innate to him, but seeing all of this in a fic assured me that I wasn’t the only one who thought that redemption was possible for Crowley. It meant a lot to me at the time. I guess, considering I was willing to reread this whole fic again all these year later, it still does.

Crowley admitting – to himself and to others – or directly referencing feelings of guilt, remorse and shame for his actions. It wasn’t explained away as just the effects of the cure. Something deep inside him had been changed, restored.

The very first scene resoundingly validated my own understanding of 8x23 – Crowley caught up in the flood of emotions brought on by the cure, seeing his actions for the first time as truly monstrous, hearing the cries of his victims. Holy mother of sin, the things I’ve done.

The admittance to himself that time alone in the bunker’s dungeon, in the dark, was too much time left to self-reflection and memories – the nagging of his conscience when he’d rather suppress it entirely.

The rawness of his emotions, his unfamiliarity with how to process them, “it had been a constant struggle not to start sobbing like a bloody child since Sam had almost cured him.”

His increasing hatred of other demons, not because of their disloyalty or incompetence, but because of what they symbolize: their delight in suffering, the misery they cause, that he was anything like them and might still be – or worse, might regress and become again.

In canon, Crowley asks Sam where to begin looking for forgiveness. He references wanting to make amends again in 10x17 when he tells Sam he thought making changes to Hell “might matter.” But after the cure, Crowley in canon never really expresses one way or another whether he thinks he’s capable of or can earn redemption. We’re left with subtext that suggests Crowley thinks he’s too far gone for that – or has been convinced that that’s the case by the attitude of the Winchesters and Cas. Fanfiction, this fic, offered up what canon couldn’t:

Crowley admitting to hating what he was and wanting to be better. Saying things like “I’ve been past the point of forgiveness for a very long time” and “There’s no forgiveness, not for a thing like me” and hating that.

Feeling beyond ashamed to have so thoroughly damned himself beyond any hope of redemption. “Even now, he would never forgive himself for all he’d done – and truthfully, he didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.” Crowley feeling that way both kills me – because it’s not true, dammit – and fulfills a perverse need to see the character suffer through all the necessary growth to actually become that better self that is worthy of that redemption.

Crowley admits his own efforts are “not enough!...It’ll never be enough” compared with his sins. In canon, Crowley never says as much, but plenty of other characters, particularly the Winchesters, are more than happy to come to that conclusion for him.

Again, I am amazed – looking back at this fic – of how much of Crowley’s road to redemption that this fic established for me. One of the waypoints was Crowley coming to a point where he recognizes and then internalizes that being a demon is bad. That seems obvious, but Crowley had so much to gain from being a demon. Did gain so much, compared to his human life. But in becoming a demon, souls lose something, something of immense and irreplaceable value.

After the aborted cure, Crowley “had all the souls of the damned behind him, and he’d never felt weaker.”

And then there was the matter of watching what other demons did, the harm they caused – seeing the consequences and aftermath of the pain and suffer he had caused, how that effected the people around him, the people Crowley now cared about.

There’s coming to grips with the understanding that possessing a meatsuit is a horrible, violating experience for that person.

And that being this broken, corrupted thing is something Crowley wants to get away from, forget about, suppress. And as he increasingly becomes one of the boys, it’s something he tries – without success – to put behind him. “Would you believe that I’d almost forgotten?...Forgot what I was.”

Crowley’s road to redemption, his “transformation” in this fic, is slow. As appealing as the plot point of the demon cure was in canon, I couldn’t imagine the reforming of a soul of the demonic smoke to be anything other than slow, painful, and complicated. It had to be that way, it had to be something of value, to be a redemption that was actually earned.

Crowley’s humanity shines through a little at a time. In most of fanfiction, we go straight to the heart of the matter. That’s what we’re here for. But it’s so much more impactful when the glimpses of Crowley’s feelings and humanity are rare, and veiled behind snark, dismissal, and misdirection.

Crowley has moments of both begrudged self-reflection and open admission. He surprises himself in moments with the sincerity of his own remarks.

Grapples with longing for humanity and the good aspects that come with that, as much as he hates human weakness.

He often considers himself not human enough, and is hard on himself for that.

He learns to ask for help, and the scene in which he asks for help in completing the cure is something I longed to see play out in canon.

There is a scene where a character can see Crowley’s true form – what an angel sees when looking at humans, demons and other beings – and can see that it’s healing from the corrosive effects of damnation and being on Hell’s rack. This is something that I’ve never explored in my own work, but have often thought about and wondered how to visualize for the reader. Visualize Crowley “regaining pieces of his soul,” as Eliot in Leverage recently put it.

There are moments in the fic in which Crowley’s demonic instincts and humanity align, have the same goal, which is something I love and would have wanted to see explored in canon.

At one particular vulnerable moment, Crowley admits to the cure having saved him – “You saved me” – from the damage done to a soul corrupted into a demon. Saved him from himself, stopping him from doing more evil in the future.

The tragedy of that, of course, is that the Winchesters didn’t save Crowley intentionally, didn’t do it for Crowley’s sake, and because of that, Crowley in canon could only begrudge having been transformed from an “icy, unfeeling, ruthless, perfect” demon into a “messy, emotional” shadow of himself.

Even as Crowley laments “not being human enough” in this fic, he is also conflicted about not being demon enough.

The part of Crowley that still revels in depravity and violent strength, in ultimate power, can’t stand the idea of being weakened by human nature. He can’t believe he’s starting to feel all those rainbow, feel-good emotions that make such fools of the Winchesters and their kind.

Equally, not being demon enough undermines Crowley’s legitimacy as King of Hell. If he isn’t the most ruthless, sadistic, uncaring monster out there, he isn’t fit to rule Hell. And not being the king, who is he? And from where does he obtain his power, his means of security and self-preservation? It is as much an existential crisis as it is a matter of wanting to hold onto ill-gotten power and authority.

Giving into his more human side, “would he even be able to rule Hell,” or would he be reduced back to the nothing that he was before bashing his way through the ranks?

And if he gives up humanity for being King? For power? At least then “I’ll have power. I’ll have respect. I’ll have the best a demon can have. The best I can have…It’s all I can do.”

Even in admitting letting go of humanity secures him power, Crowley admits that he chooses that because it’s all he thinks he’s worthy of, a sad consolation prize. Crowley never admits as much in canon, but I absolutely read all this as the reason for his inability to let go of Hell and move to join the Winchesters sooner.

Crowley’s perspective on being king in this fic and how that perspective changes over the course of the slow burn is perhaps the greatest strength of the fic.

Throughout much of the fic, Crowley legitimately loves being king. He loves the authority, he loves the power. The fic leans heavily on his cunning and strategic mind, something that canon failed to capitalize on after Crowley became a second-tier member of Team Free Will. While reading, I honestly believed that the author was writing a Crowley that loved the crown and would begrudge giving it up.

But slowly, what he loves about being a king cannot outweigh everything he hates about Hell, demonkind, and what being king costs him.

Very much in line with canon, Crowley gets to a point where he is forced to admit to himself that despite all the perks and benefits, he actually hates being the King of Hell.

He believes he has to keep being king to keep Hell in line and less of a threat – just like in canon. And uses that as a justification, along with love of power, to remain trapped in his own personal hell.

A few aspects of being King of Hell that the fic explores that canon doesn’t include:

The brilliant idea that “Hell chooses who leads it.” Demonic loyalty shifts from an unsuitable leader to a powerful alternative, and when that loyalty shifts, the power of Hell shifts from to that particular demon or Knight of Hell. That’s what gives the king (or queen) of Hell their immense power and legitimizes their authority. Love that idea – it almost makes it like a…demonocracy.

Crowley feels responsible towards the overall protection of demonkind. This is somewhat suggested in canon, such as when Crowley refers to Bobby Singer as being a surge to “his kind.” But it doesn’t have quite the paternalistic quality to it, compared to in the fic when Crowley gets angry that Abaddon is using “his subjects” as cannon fodder against angels. “Yes, they were traitorous, weak-minded prats, but they were still his.”

But the most significant aspect of Hell and demons this fic explores – in my opinion – is how Hell turns souls into demons. Falling Skies delves into Crowley’s own torture on the rack, “he kept seeing flashes – brief, vivid visions, memories” of “blood and laughter and screaming ad begging and pain.”

Souls are strapped to the rack and torn apart, “destroyed brick by brick…violated and torn down” and then, made into a demon, “pieced back together into something else…something evil. Something poisonous and wrong.” This unmaking so as to create from the ruins departs from the idea that a soul caves or gives into to evil in Hell, and instead invests in the idea that it is something done to them, that it is a perversion of everything that they are, which in my opinion is a much more compelling take on demons.

Hell doesn’t only take a soul’s humanity, it takes their memories as well. Crowley references how “his torture in Hell had been enough to erase almost every part of his human life. He honestly only knew the barest details of the man that was Fergus.”

What he does remember is primarily the bad memories, as if Hell intentionally allowed him to hold onto those memories to either fuel his damnation or to discourage him from being nostalgic for his human life.

Much of what Crowley actually feels, even as a demon, is suppressed, “drowned in smoke”, numbing him to his actions and clouding his own thoughts and emotions in Hell’s influence. “He’d never realized how much he’d lost, how much he’d blocked out, how much he hadn’t even thought was worth remembering.”

All of this significantly influenced my own ideas about what it meant to be a demon – to be a semi-cured demon – and Crowley’s existential struggle.

Some smaller, more personal characteristics of Crowley that this fic influenced in my own writing include:

Crowley being a cook, and rolling his eyes at the boys fearing he’s going to poison them

Crowley referring to or thinking of the Winchesters as “his humans” rather than him being “their demon”

Crowley stating in fanfiction long before that final scene in 12x23 that he “always wins”

pointing out how even before the cure, he has carried his own weight in the saving-the-world department. “Who helped you stop the apocalypse? Me. Who helped you take out Castiel when he tried to pay god? Me. Who helped you stop Dick and his cronies? Me! ARE YOU NOTICING A TREND HERE?”

In this fic, Crowley takes a younger meatsuit – the son of his canon meatsuit. Which made me very uncomfortable and felt hypocritical, because by this point, Crowley is very much one of the good guys and should have had qualms about that. But then angelic powers make it possible for Crowley to take that meatsuit and the person is snapped back into existence, whole and unaware, and Crowley is visibly relieved by that. Vessels and meatsuits has always been something that the canon never properly addressed or explored. And while Crowley taking just a younger version of his vessel felt like ageism here, at least the author addressed the moral complications of his choice.

Crowley’s central, guiding concept of redemption and what it means to do the right thing was also established for me in this fic.

He has the chance to murder the demon that tortured him, that led him on his path to damnation. The demon attempts to play the mortality card, telling Crowley to “kill again and blacken your heart even more.” And Crowley, in perfect character, replies “in for a penny, in for a pound.”

Crowley truly believes himself to be beyond redemption, but that he can use his damnation as another resource in the larger fight for what is right. If he’s already damned, no reason to hold back – he can do the ugly, messy things the others can’t, what might even need to be done to secure the win for Team Free Will.

He reflects on his changing perspective of morality, how he thought good and evil were just human concepts that got in way, that people mistakenly draw line between good and evil when really it’s a spectrum that people move up and down all the time.

What he comes to believe in, with his semi-restored humanity, is choices. “That night that Sam had injected him with human blood, that night he’d come close to being saved (or doomed?), he had seen the darkness inside of himself, and he had hated it…there was good and evil within everyone, or at least the potential for it. What mattered was what side you chose, or at least which you chose the most often, which you kept trying to fight your way back to…For the time being, Crowley was not evil. And really, he rather liked that.”

That idea of Crowley fighting his way back to a better version of himself, to his morality and humanity being defined by his choices – that is central to me in Crowley’s character and road to redemption.

Much of Crowley’s relationship with the boys post-cure for me was based on this fic as well.

With the cure coursing through him, seeing Dean as an actual person for the first time.

His professional respect for them morphing into admiration, into protectiveness, because “they tried. And that should count for something, damn it.”

His understanding that the boys’ don’t just use people up – they do so by giving them something to believe in, something to fight for, and letting the cause use them up.

Dean making a deal with the angels to kill the King of Hell, and being unable to go through with it, then choosing to stand between Crowley and the angels.

Crowley recognizing his and Cas’ similarities, discussing with him the benefits and difficulties of being human or semi-human.

He and Cas getting a drink together and sharing their woes.

Cas admitting that his old angelic biases being in the way of seeing before how alike they are.

Crowley and Cas joking that in their team-up, Crowley is Dean and Cas is Sam.

Idea explored in this fic that I loved and want to flesh out in a fic:

Closing the Gates of Hell means all the demons, including Crowley, will be trapped down there forever. And a) Crowley considers or b) the Winchesters consider without telling Crowley - turning him human so that he won’t be trapped down there with demonkind.

A third or even second attempt at the cure might not be possible, or not take full effect.

Turning a soul into a demon takes proper time, that “hurrying the torture, letting out the souls before they’re fully cooked…churning out demons with bits of human still left in them. You’d think it would make them less dangerous, but it just makes them a hell of a lot worse. They’re out of their minds and out of control.”

And I very much appreciated that it referenced the reality that in killing a possessed meatsuit, the boys were killing a victim, a possessed person. That is something that sort of fell away and became an acceptable collateral damage, and never sat very well with me.

Falling Skies also introduced a loyal lackey for Crowley by the name of Laharl who I loved as a character. Crowley very much needed that someone in later seasons.

Castiel attempting to heal Crowley, and him suffering an instinctual fear that the angel intends to smite him.

The boys – and Crowley – struggling with the unwelcome knowledge that if Crowley chooses to become king again, there will come a time when their interests don’t align, and they will have to be enemies again. How much Crowley doesn’t want that, can’t bear the thought he might hurt them again.

I know this is a really long review. And I honestly don’t expect anyone to read it all the way through. I wrote it more for myself than anything. Because, even though there is plenty about the way that I write Crowley that differs from the way this author did, there is also so much here that influenced my understanding of him and his road to redemption. When there was no other fanfiction about Crowley fighting his way out of the dark, about choosing the Winchesters and to be better, there was Falling Skies. And I will always be immensely grateful for that.

Read the fic on AO3

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Promise You’ll Miss Me

Commander Wolffe x Jedi!Reader, Angst (you read the title)

Summary: You have just achieved the rank of Jedi Knight, but with it comes the additional title of General for the Grand Army of the Republic.  With your new squadron waiting for you on Coruscant, you need to say goodbye to the Commander closest to your heart.

A/N: Not a request, but just something that came to mind and I thought Commander Wolffe would be the best candidate for this story.  And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 1.9 K

    You should have been excited. 

    You were excited.  Years of training and battle experience had paid off and you had now officially achieved the rank of Jedi Knight.

   You would never forget the pride in your Master’s voice after you told him you had passed the trials.  It made you feel taller, wiser, bolder than you had ever felt in your life.  All the same, when you went back to your room that night to sleep an ache had already settled into your heart. 

   Master Plo Koon was the greatest teacher you could have hoped for.  Not only was he wise in the ways of the force, but he was kind; showing a well of compassion to you and others, you had found rare among the Jedi Council.  He shaped you not just as a Jedi, but into the core person you had become.  He was a father to you and idea of leaving hurt more than you thought. 

   You might have been able to bear it.  After all, you could still see him on Coruscant.  If you truly needed guidance, he would never be fully out of reach.  But with the title of Jedi Knight came another; General for the Grand Army of the Republic. 

   You wouldn’t just be leaving your Master behind, but the 104th as well.  All the men you had spent years fighting beside, your brothers in arms, your friends; there was a good chance you would never see them again.  

   You would have your own squadron to lead. Who knew where you would be sent or how long you’d be there.  You weren’t even sure how long this war would last. 

   You understood why, of course.  The Republic had ordered new Clones to the front who, in turn, needed new Generals to command them.  There was no doubt in your mind that your squadron would consist of good men.  But still, the ache in your chest persisted, turning into a stabbing pain when you thought of one clone Commander in particular. 

   You could not help but linger on this pain as you gazed out one of the view port windows into hyperspace. 

   “Comman– Ah, sorry.  General,” a voice called, the very voice you had been thinking of. 

   You suppressed a smile as you turned to find Commander Wolffe standing at attention, his helmet tucked dutifully under his arm. 

   “There’s no need for that Commander,” you said.  “I’m not General yet.” 

   “Well, you will be,” he countered.  “I figured I better start practicing now instead of later.”

   You couldn’t stop the smile at that, allowing the corner of your mouth to twitch upward.

   “Trust me, I’d rather you do it later.”  Glancing behind, you noticed the pair of you were the only ones in this section of the ship.  “Is there something you need?” 

   Wolffe shook his head.  “I just wanted to check on you.  General Plo mentioned you might be needing some company.”

   You felt your cheeks grow warm.  Maybe your thoughts weren't so private if your Master could feel your distress from the other side of the ship.  Still, it was a kind gesture. 

   “I would appreciate it.”

   Wolffe nodded in acknowledgement, taking a spot beside you.  

   There was a moment of comfortable silence.  Another thing you knew you would miss.  You hadn’t met many clones who were as comfortable around Jedi as Wolffe was. 

   “Are you alright, Commander,” he said, in his own gruff, but gentle tone. 

   You let out a sigh.  “Just a lot of changes at once.”

   He nodded in understanding.  “When do you get your orders?”

    “Almost as soon as we land.”

   You weren’t sure, but you thought you caught Wolffe stiffen at your words. 

   “Then this truly was your last mission with us,” he said. 

   Your stomach twisted as you forced your eyes back to the view port.  “Yes.”

   There was another pause.  A sudden emotion radiated from Wolffe, rippling around you in small waves. You couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it made you feel just a little empty. 

   “You’re going to do fine, Commander,” he said. “General Plo wouldn’t have recommended you for the trails unless he had complete faith in you.  I’m not sure how much my opinion matters, but I think I speak for the entire 104th when I say; any clone would be lucky to be under your command.” 

   You turned to him then to find him staring back at you.  His expression was oddly vulnerable, but there was no doubt in your mind he meant every word he said. 

   “Your opinion matters to me more than you know,” you said, your throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Thank you.”

   His lip twisted up in a small smile of thanks, but quickly faltered as his eye lingered on your features. 

   “But that’s not all, is it,” he asked. 

   You couldn’t lie to him and shook your head. “No.”

   “Then what?”

   You turned away, once again looking out the view port.  “Jedi are not supposed to form attachments.  It clouds our judgement, often rendering us incapable of seeing the greater good outside of the well being of those we care about.  All the same, I know that I have formed attachments and I’m having a hard time letting go.”  

   A swell of emotion caught in your throat bringing the prickling promise of tears to yours eyes.  “I’m going to miss you Wolffe.”

   You could hear the clanking of his armor as he shifted away from you. 

   “You’ll be alright,” he said, dismissively.  “Once you have your own squadron, you’ll be too busy to think of us.”

   “Don’t say that.”

   “It’s true,” he countered, sharply.  “I’m a clone.  There are literally thousands of clones exactly like me spread across the galaxy, each programmed in the same way to do the same thing.  Our job is to be soldiers loyal to the republic, so that you don’t have to worry about us.  So that you can do your job and see the bigger picture.  You’ll forget about us, and me, and you’ll be fine.”

   You stared at him in stunned silence.  The aching in your chest was gone, replaced now with something hot and furious. 

   “No!” you snapped.  “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you ever say that! There aren’t any other clones like you.  Just like there aren’t any clones like Boost or Comet or Sinker or anyone else. You are your own person and there is no possible way I could ever forget you.  Do you think I’m heartless? Do you think don’t feel things like loyalty or love or…”

   You trailed off, unable to get the words out as hot tears streamed down your face.  

   Wolffe looked at you, stunned.  He almost looked like a statue. 

   Desperately, you wiped the tears away, trying to vain to spare what was left of your dignity.  You were so caught up in your own emotions, you didn’t hear the sound of Wolffe’s helmet dropping to the floor. 

   In an instant, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close in a tender embrace.

   Your body reacted in an instant, melting into his touch.  One of his hands found a place cradling your head against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his torso. 

   “I know you do,” Wolffe said, leaning down to speak softly into your ear. “I know it hurts.  Believe me, I know. The only thing I don’t know is what I’m going to do without you.”

   You took a breath, feeling yourself calm at his words and touch.  “I guess that’s something we’re both going to have to figure out.” 

   He let out a sigh before slowly relinquishing his hold. You both stepped back to look at each other, neither fully leaving the other’s arms. 

   Casually, as if he had done it hundreds of times before, Wolffe reached out a hand, and brushed a stray hair behind your ear. 

   In his defense, he had done it hundreds of times, often in the heat of battle and always with the lament that you needed to get a haircut if it was going to keep falling in your face.  But, you weren’t fighting.  There was no teasing remark or something else to cover his true intent. 

   His hand froze, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as if suddenly realizing just how intimate the gesture was.  

   Sensing his panic, you pressed your hand over his and leaned your cheek against his palm. 

   Wolffe stared at you in wonder. Then, cautiously he allowed his thumb to gently caress your cheek. 

   You smiled, telling him silently how much you savored him and this.

   It was the invitation he needed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Your heart leapt, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth starting to spread through your body, but it didn’t last.

   Wolffe pulled away his eyes wide. 

   “Y/N, are you–”

   You didn’t give him a chance to finish as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck so there could be no question. 

   You weren’t sure what came over you.  You honestly weren’t sure what came over him.  Neither of you were the type, and yet the idea of having to leave him drove you over the edge. 

   He responded in kind, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips were rough to the touch, but warm and kind as he tried to convey everything he felt for you in a single gesture. 

   You didn’t know how long you stood there.  All you knew was that it wasn’t long enough before you comm beeped.

   You pulled away with a huff on annoyance, glancing down at your wrist.  

   Wolffe didn’t allow you to linger as he cupped your cheek and pulled you into another kiss.  You held onto him as if that would somehow make the comm stop beeping. He kissed you again, and again, and again, but duty kept calling at an unrelenting pace. Eventually, you both had to admit defeat. 

   “Yes, what is it,” you answered. 

   “Sorry to disturb you Commander,” one of the troopers said.  “The captain wanted me to inform you we’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon and should be landing on Coruscant within the hour.”

   “Yes, thank you for informing me,” you said, feeling a sense of dread in your stomach.  “Tell Master Plo Koon I will meet him in the hanger bay.”

   The trooper gave an acknowledgement and the line went dead. 

   For a long moment, both you and Wolffe were silent.  The room suddenly felt much colder and all you wanted now was to stay in his arms just a little while longer.  But, you each had your duties. 

   “I better go check on the men,” he said. 

   You nodded, allowing him to step out of your hold as he bent down to pick up his dropped helmet. 

   He stood at attention, ever the soldier. You, in turn, straightened with the air of a Jedi Knight.  

   “Goodbye Commander Wolffe,” you said. “I wish you good fortune in the battles to come.”

   “Goodbye General Y/N.  May the Force be with you.” 

   He the turned and marched out of the room.  

   You watched him go until he was out of sight.  Feeling the ache more fiercely than before, you turned your eye to the view port just in time to watch the blue of hyperspace turn to starlines and then to stars with Coruscant floating among them. 

   Millions of people lived on that planet.  Billions more made up the whole galaxy.  It was your duty to think of them all. To keep in mind the greater good. And yet the only one of those billions and billions to occupy your mind was a single clone a deck below. 

   You let out a long sigh as you walked toward the hanger bay. Perhaps becoming a Jedi Knight wasn’t what you were always promised it would be. 

[thetravelerwrites]

Ichabod (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Demon-Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Demon, Fae Content Warnings: Multiple Sclerosis, Muscle Spasms, Temporary Paralysis, Wheelchair, Mobility Aids, Blood, Menstruation, Period, Oral Sex, Oral Sex During Menstruation Words: 4353

Commission by @littlemissmonsterfan​, Ichabod sneaks into the convent after hours to explain himself to Ellis. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Where’s the doctor?” Liana asked as she returned with the water.

“Oh…” You said, still in a bit of a daze. “He began feeling ill and left.”

“Tch,” Liana tutted. “Well, perhaps it’s for the best. That man gives me the creeps.” She looked at your face closely. “You’re rather pale. Are you alright?” She set the pan down and took your chin. “Did he do something?”

“No, no,” You said weakly. “I’m fine. Honestly, I am a little worried about him. He did seem quite unwell.”

“Well, he’s a doctor,” She said dismissively. “If he is ill, then he knows what to do about it. Now let’s get you into some proper clothing. It’s bound to get colder.”

That night, you had trouble sleeping. The crackling coals in the hearth kept the chill from the room, though your feet and hands never seemed to warm up. You monthly bleeding did indeed begin that day, and the cramping always kept you awake. Ichabod’s medicine helped, but your thoughts were in a roil. All you could think about was what Ichabod had done: the kiss on your ankle. Even now, the skin where his lips had been still tingled.

Why had he done it, and why couldn’t you get it out of your mind? It’s true that no other man had shown you such interest, but then again, you hadn’t met but three men in your entire life. Was he taking advantage of the situation, like the Daughters always insisted he would? Did he actually have feelings for you? Or was it something else? Something you couldn’t even begin to fathom?

As you lay there contemplating, you heard footsteps in the hallway. Wondering who was up this late, you lit your lamp and peered through the darkness at the door. It opened slowly and a pale head peeked inside.

“Ichabod?!” You whispered loudly. “What on earth are you doing here so late? Eldest will have your head on a platter if she finds you here! She already thinks you’re going to spirit me away at the first available opportunity!”

“My apologies, Ellis,” He whispered back. “I…I wanted to offer an explanation for what happened this afternoon. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind and I had to see you to put it right. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“So you broke in?”

“I just scaled the gate. And climbed the wall. And maybe broke a door--it doesn’t matter!” He stepped inside. “Is your leg alright? I fear I may have bitten it accidentally. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Oh, yes, it’s fine,” You said, pulling back your sheets to show him. “It was a tiny cut. It’s practically healed now.”

“Oh, good,” He said, a hand over his heart. He looked genuinely distressed.

“Ichabod…” You began quietly as he shut the door. “Why… why did you do what you did?”

Ichabod sighed. He went and stoked the fire back to life, adding a log or two, then picked up the chair that sat in the corner of the room, placing it in front of you next to the bed and settling himself in it. He avoided your eye.

“Ellis,” He said, clasping his hands between his knees. “I greatly enjoy being a doctor. The opportunity to help people and ease their suffering gives my life purpose and meaning. Having said that, I wish I could say that it’s not in my nature to ever hurt another person, but there are… desires, you might call them… base impulses against which I have always battled. Impulses that are, to be blunt…”

“Not human?” You ventured.

His head shot up and he stared at you in shock. “How did you…”

“I guessed,” You said. “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are.”

“Not around you, at least,” He said, chuckling ruefully.

“Me?” You replied, furrowing your brow. “Why me?”

“Why indeed?” He asked. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been… enthralled. Perhaps it’s because I came to your rescue as if you were a baby bird, or perhaps it’s your perseverance in the face of your condition, I’m not sure. But I do feel a connection to you. I am… enchanted by you.” He looked at you again briefly with an indiscernible expression, and you found your cheeks grow warm. “Unfortunately, I also feel… those desires. Very strongly, I’m afraid.”

You had trouble parsing out what he was trying to say. “You want to… hurt me?”

His face was aghast. “Oh, goodness no! Never! Quite the opposite, in fact,” He averted his gaze again and rubbed his neck. “I want to protect you as much as I am able. You see… I… Oh, I don’t know how to say this…”

“Let’s start here, then,” You said. “What exactly are you?”

He took a deep, deep breath. “I’m not entirely sure. I fairly certain I have some fae and demon blood. Perhaps a little bit of human, too. I think.”

“How old are you?”

“Again, I’m not sure. There’s not much about my past I remember. My first memory is the cage.”

Your heart thumped against your ribs. “Cage?”

“Yes, I was kept as an… attraction… before I could control my…” He swallowed, flicking his eyes up at you and looking away. “My form. I don’t know how old I was at the time, but I don’t think I was fully grown, though I was rather large. I was billed as ‘The Demon Maneater’.” He laughed darkly. “I pulled in quite the crowd.”

“Maneater?” You echoed. “Why that title specifically?”

He scrubbed his face and sighed. “Because of my impulses. I eat normal food, drink water, sleep as humans do, and that’s usually enough to keep me sated. But underneath it, there’s this… thirst. A craving that I couldn’t control as well when I was younger. It led me to a lot of trouble.”

You hesitated before asking. “A thirst for--”

“Blood,” He said sharply. It was probably the first time his voice had ever had an edge to it. He was clasping his hands so tightly that the knuckles were completely bloodless. “The man who… owned me, he kept me starving so that the… bloodlust, I guess, was always strong and hard to control. He fed me on pig’s blood alone. Made a show of it, actually. Charged admission for people to watch me suck it down.” His face had a hard grimace of disgust and loathing on it.

“God, that’s terrible,” You said, clutching your chest. “How did you get away?”

“I got too big for my cage,” He said. “I attacked my captor as he was trying to put me in a new one. It was the first, and only time, I tasted human blood.”

“Besides today,” You reminded him.

He met your gaze and his face fell mournfully. “Yes. Besides today.”

“Why did you do that?” You asked again.

“I don’t know!” His head fell into his hands and he gripped his hair, which was out of its braid and cascading down his shoulders, obscuring his face. It was as disheveled as you’d ever seen him. “I’ve been so careful! I eat so much that I feel sick sometimes. I drink enough water to plant a field every day, just to suppress it. I’ve done everything I can, but today, I was overwhelmed. I don’t know why.”

“Can you… smell blood? Like, do you have the nose of a bloodhound or something?” You asked.

“No, no. That’s not a gift I was born with,” He said.

“That’s odd,” You replied thoughtfully.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, when you said I smelled good earlier,” You said, and he blushed. “To be honest… my monthly bleeding started today. Perhaps you…”

“...oh. Ohhh.” He breathed. “Huh. Honestly, there have been times when some people smelled better to me than others. I just thought it was because they’d used perfumes or oils or some such. Could I have been sensing…?”

“You don’t know?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve spent my whole life suppressing this side of myself. It’s not something I ever wanted to explore.”

“You’ve never told your spouse or sweetheart?” You asked curiously, keeping your face and voice carefully neutral.

He eyed you with a rueful smile. “No spouses. No sweethearts. I’ve had… lovers before, but nothing serious. And I never revealed my true self to them.”

You shifted in bed so that you were sitting on the edge with your feet on the ground and looked him in the eye. “Will you show me?”

His face was all panic and he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he said, “Are you sure you want to see?”

You nodded. “I’m certainly intrigued.”

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and furrowed his brow in deliberation. “My greatest fear is that seeing my true form will frighten you beyond the capacity for understanding, but at the same time, I want so badly for you to see me as I am. I want you to know me, all of me.”

“Even though you don’t like yourself?”

“One can only hide who they are for so long before it becomes tiresome. I suppose… I’m lonely.”

“Why me?” You asked him again.

“I’ve told you, you’ve charmed me. I am drawn to you in some way that I can’t identify. Your opinion and acceptance means more to me than anyone else’s, and I can’t say why that is.”

“Most might call that love,” You blurted, instantly regretting it.

Except, a gentle smile crept across his face for the first time since he arrived. “Love…” he repeated. “Yes. I believe you may be right.”

Your blush deepened. Was he serious? Could this man possibly love you, or was it just his impulses swaying his emotions? It’s not like you had much experience with the issue, so you could hardly tell.

“Your the first person I’ve ever told. The man who taught me medicine is the only other person who knew. He saved my life, gave me sanctuary, and showed me my purpose. I miss him.” He stood up. “Well… I’ve come halfway already. I suppose stopping now would be pointless.” His sad expression returned. “I just hope, after you’ve seen me, you might at least still consider me a friend.”

He began to change then. With your heart in your throat, you watch as his body stretched and thinned. He towered over you, his waist shrinking to be no thicker than your calf. He grew an extra pinky finger and thumb on each hand, and his ankles pushed backward into digitigrade feet, each with seven toes. His eyes went completely black and swallowed the light. He was more skeletal than lithe now, with bones jutting out all over, and his long hair seemed to be prehensile and moving under its own power. His mouth split his head to each ear, and inside were teeth that were more like jagged pieces of glass jutting out of his black gums. You imagined they had been what nicked your leg earlier.

His clothes had changed with him; his glamour must have also extended to his garments. You suspected he may have made them himself. He was longer, thinner. Sharper. Everything about him was angular and pointed, except the curve of his spine as he hunched over you.

You sat on your cot with your hands in your lap, just looking up at him. He seemed to be leaning away from you slightly, no doubt expecting you to scream or attack. You slowly stood up, blessedly needing no assistance at the moment, and took him in. Slowly, you raised your hand, and he flinched.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” You asked him. He seemed momentarily stunned by the question, but after a moment to recover, he nodded. You reached up and traced the line of his mouth, from one ear to the other, causing him to close his eyes and make a purring sound. You traced his lids, eyebrows, nose, jaw, and down his neck. When you got to his collar, he gingerly stopped your hand by taking it in his.

“You’re not afraid?” He asked wonderingly.

You shook your head. “I knew you weren’t human. Honestly, I was expecting ten arms and a tail with a stinger on the end, at least.” You laughed and stroked his hair, which wrapped itself around your wrist loosely. “Compared to what I was imagining in my head, this is tame.”

His eyes squeezed closed in relief, tears slipping down his face. Halfway down his cheeks, they crystallized and fell to the ground, tinkling like glass beads on the stone floor.

“I knew you were special,” He said. “I knew you were perfect.” He took your hands and pressed them against his nose, inhaling your scent into every corner of his lungs. His hands were shaking.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Or thirsty? Or… something?” You asked uncertainly.

He smiled at you gently, brushing your hair away from your eyes. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m more in control right now than I’ve ever been.”

“That’s good, but… um…” You cleared your throat nervously. “I was wondering if maybe I could help you. You’ve done so much for me, I just thought I could do something for you in return.”

He cocked his head in confusion. “What kind of something?”

You took a shaky breath and looked down, using his finger to tap the lower part of your belly. He continued to look confused for another several seconds before his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“Are you… are you serious? Are you sure?” He asked in an awed whisper. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,I’m sure,” You said. “I want to thank you. After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t help but feel like I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” He said emphatically. “The fact that you can look at my true face and still smile at me is all the thanks I could ever need.”

“I still want to do something for you,” You told him. “I feel stronger than I have in years. The therapy has helped me so much. If you don’t want to think of it as payment, then think of it as a gift.”

Though his eyes were completely black, you could feel the warmth that radiated from them when he smiled. He actually put an arm across his chest and bowed solemnly before you.  

“Then I accept with more gratitude than I can express.”

You smiled and patted his head.

“You’re quivering,” He said, standing back up and taking your hand.

“I must admit, I’m nervous,” You replied. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” You looked up into his eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“No, darling,” He whispered tenderly, bending to nuzzle your cheek. “No pain. In fact, I will do everything I can to ensure you enjoy this as much as I will.”

Your heart rate shot up, but you nodded. “Alright. How do we begin?”

He put his long hands on your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss. He was careful to keep his teeth tucked away so that they wouldn’t cut you. You kissed him back, a thrill in your spine. He carefully lifted your nightgown over your head and placed it on the chair. He knelt down and pulled your stockings and the linen roll you used for your monthly bleeding. Embarrassed, you took it from him and placed it in the washing pan to clean later.

He smiled at your blushing face. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s a natural thing.”

“Oh, I know,” You told him. “The Daughters see it as a gift. I’ve just… never been naked in front of a man before.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re exquisite to the eye,” He said, running his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “I could look at you like this and never grow tired of it.”

“Thank you,” You replied in a small voice. “So… what should I do?”

He took your hand and led you to the foot of the bed, urging you to lie down with your legs over the end. He climbed over you, kissing your lips. Your tongue ran over his jagged teeth and you pushed him back a little.

“You’re sure it won’t hurt?” You asked dubiously.

He grinned and opened his mouth, and you watched as the teeth receded into his gums, leaving only soft tissue behind.

“Oh,” You said. You watched as something slithered out and wriggled around. To your surprise, he had not one, but seven black tongues, tentacle-like and writhing.

“Relax,” He said. “I’ll take care of you. Are you still sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” You said firmly. “I do.”

He smiled. “Lie down, then. Get comfy.”

You obeyed, not really knowing what to expect. He knelt down in front of you, kissing your thighs as he opened your legs. He pulled you down a little further and, looking down, you saw him close in on your core, his mouth opening wide and suctioning to your lips and clit with a sigh of deep satisfaction. And he began to suck.

You were shocked at the effect the pressure had on you. You’d touched yourself before, but it didn’t feel like this. In addition to the suction, his tongues worked into you and around your pearl, massaging and contracting. Your back arched and you gasped, the muscles in your stomach tightening involuntarily.

Well, he said you’d enjoy it. He wasn’t lying.

You suddenly felt a spasm in your back and cried out. He seemed to realize this wasn’t a sound of pleasure and stopped immediately, licking his chops.

“What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” He asked.

“No,” You said, wincing. “I had a twinge in my back.”

“Just a moment,” He said, standing. As he stood, you saw a bulge in his pants. You pressed your lips together to keep the startled smile off your face. He took your pillow and the extra blankets and tilted you upward, putting them behind your back so that you were sitting up a bit more.

“Where?” He asked, and you showed him. He took a few moments to massage the spot, easing the muscle down and working the twinge out. His extra fingers were magic for your muscles. “Does that help?”

You moaned happily. “Yes, very much. God, I wish I’d let you do the deep tissue massages sooner.”

He laughed. “My hands are yours whenever you want them.”

“I think I’d rather have your mouth at the moment,” You said, and then slapped a hand to your own lips, surprised at your sudden frankness.

His grin was devilish. “As you wish, my darling.” He returned to his previous position and took up his task with relish. You cried out again, but it was clear this time that it was nothing but ecstasy.

One of his hands gripped your thigh, but the other hand slipped up your torso. You bit your lip and smiled as his fingers cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his fingertips. His black eyes watched your every move, every expression, every twitch of your muscles. He watched for pain and pleasure in your face and body, changing the pressure to match. He was good at this.

Before long, you felt it: a wave of bliss that curled your toes and pulled the voice out of you. His hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans as the wave crashed into you. You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair, holding him there as you came down. As it ebbed, you took both of his hands and held them over your breasts. He kneaded the flesh back and forth with his long, long fingers as you held his wrists in place. He kept up the pressure, still sucking, and you felt another wave build and crash. And build and crash.

Finally, he pulled away from you with a long, drawn out moan.

“Incredible,” He breathed. “I’ve never felt so satisfied in all my life.” He rose up and examined your face. “Are you alright?”

“I am…” You said in a sleepy voice. “Lovely.”

“You are,” He said, bending to kiss you, but you stopped him.

“Um… maybe wash out your mouth first?” You suggested.

He ducked his head and smiled. “Of course. Forgive me.”

As he went to the pitcher of water on the table, you lay still on the bed, your body warm and tingling. You watched him swish water and a mint sprig around in his mouth several times and spit it into the chamber pot. His pants were still tented, and you bit your lip in curiosity. The feeling of cramps and bloating was completely gone, and once you caught your breath, you were feeling adventurous.

As he returned, you sat up and reached out, palming the bulge and looking up at him. He grunted.

“You… you don’t have to,” He said, though he leaned into your touch.

“I want to,” You said, reaching for the buttons. “I have a lot to learn. I want you to teach me.”

He smiled and caressed your face. “I think I like this bold side of you, darling.”

You chuckled and pulled him out. His cock was pearly and iridescent, as though it was made of frosted glass, though the skin was soft and pliable, and it was warm to the touch. You stroked it slowly, enjoying the weight and smoothness in your hand, before leaning forward and pressing your tongue to the head. He jerked and made a strangled noise. You looked up at him and held his gaze as you pulled the tip into your mouth. He groaned and tangled his fingers in your hair.

“Oh, my love, you learn so fast,” He wheezed. “I may not last long.”

“That’s alright,” You said. I don’t mind.”

Just then, he grunted loudly and released on your chest. You giggled.

“Sorry. Sorry,” He gasped, rushing to get a wet cloth to clean you up with.

“I don’t mind,” You repeated with a laugh.

After wiping you down, he helped you redress and put himself away. He kissed your lips, eyes, cheek, and neck.

“Ellis,” He said, sitting back on his heels and taking your hands. “Are you seriously contemplating becoming a nun, or would you consider another option?”

“What other option?”

“Marry me,” He said seriously, pressing your palms to his chest. “You needn’t… provide for me…” He said, gesturing at your belly. “You needn’t even love me in return. All I want is to come home to someone who accepts me as I am, to talk to someone without having to pretend. If all you have to give me is your time and company, I would consider myself doubly blessed for the rest of my days.”

You smiled at him, a little in shock, but knowing what your answer would be. You bent forward and pressed another kiss to his lips.

“I think I can give you more than that.”

You fell asleep in his arms, and he left before dawn. He told you he had arrangements to make and that by the time he returned for his next appointment, everything would be ready for you. You had a moment of self-doubt that perhaps he was absconding on you, but he seemed to sense your uncertainty and left you his doctor’s coat as collateral.

The Daughters were in an uproar when you told them you were to marry the physician, but there was little they could do to stop you. Even if they tried to lock you up for your own good, you knew they couldn’t stop Ichabod from coming for you.

Ichabod returned precisely when he said he would, having borrowed a cart from a friend to pick up you and your things and take you to his home. When he stepped down and saw you, his expression was so tender and warm, you couldn’t understand how the Daughter’s didn’t see that he was a man in love. It was obvious even to you. Well, you were biased, you supposed.

“Are you ready?” He asked, loading your chair into the cart. “I’ve got the house all fixed up.”

“Fixed up?” You echoed.

“Yes!” He said excitedly. “I made some modifications so that you can move around the house more easily. I put rails on all of the walls and a ramp on the front porch for your chair. The local woodcarvers helped me. They have a shop right next door to us.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did all that for me?”

He nodded shyly. “I want you to be happy and comfortable.”

You wanted to cry. You couldn’t believe how considerate he was. You took his hand, which hand only five fingers now that his glamour was back in place, and kissed the knuckles.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

His smile widened and he kissed your cheek. “Don’t thank me for that. It’s nothing,” He said. “For your acceptance, your understanding, it’s the very least I can do.”

You said goodbye to the Daughters, and Eldest held you for a very long time. You were concerned that she might not let you go. Eventually she released you and fixed a hard glare on Ichabod.

“I expect to hear from her regularly,” Eldest said. “If I go a month without a letter, I’m bringing a mob to your front door and kicking it in.”

“I’ll hold you to that, madam,” Ichabod said pleasantly. “I know you’re worried for this lovely young woman, but you have my word that I will treat her like a queen.”

“You’re word isn’t worth much to me,” Eldest replied harshly. “We’ll be checking in.”

Ichabod bowed to acknowledge the veiled threat. “Always a pleasure, Eldest Daughter. We will visit soon.”

You took Ichabod’s hand, and he helped you up into the driver’s box.

“Ready to go home?” He asked.

You took a moment to look back at the only home you’d known since you were small, then faced forward.

“Yes, love. Let’s go.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[houndin-around]

First off I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone that follows me and deals with me 🥺💕 I kinda can’t believe I’m at 100? I have a lot more up coming so bare with me!! I also wanted to try my hand at writing a few headcanons for some of our favorite boys involving how they handle their emotions when they first find that special one! Will do some more later! And since I reached 100 followers I will also be releasing some of my world-building headcanons about my CEO Maul AU that is in the works!

Wolffe- This boy gets extremely, overwhelmed with his emotions and in turn, he begins lashing out at others accidentally. It's simply because he doesn't understand how to control all these new emotions he's experiencing and he's confused and scared. After all, he's not even supposed to be feeling like this so he feels as if he's failing:

*Ever since you convinced Plo Koon to aid his men to Aleen for support, Wolffe has started feeling weird. Any time you tried to approach him though, he was rather reserved and sometimes gave you the cold shoulder. That is until you kept pestering him and eventually broke that beskar like a shield he had up.

*He doesn’t understand what it is, and he’s convinced he’s picked up a bug or something while planetside. Though he refuses to admit being sick and keeps it to himself.

*Part of him doesn’t understand why he has the constant need to get off 24/7 either, and somehow his mind always ends up wandering to you.

*Maker is he spiraling in the hell of feelings.

*During a skirmish with the 501st, he starts lashing out at Boost more than usual because it’s a “life or death” situation, and any mistake they make during these drills reflect on the battlefield. Even though it’s just a friendly game Skywalker organized to keep the troopers entertained but also practice strategizing.

*As days pass, and the more you’re around Wolffe begins secluding himself more. Trying to deal with the weirdness he’s experiencing, still not able to pinpoint what the hell is going on with him.

*“Good you’re here.” When Sinker manages to locate his Commander and he barges into his quarters while starting to interrogate him.

*Wolffe felt like a blaster shot got him right in the chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, knowing he couldn’t escape Sinker’s questions. The commander hadn’t even noticed his emotions were controlling his behavior he was too wrapped up feeling like a defective clone.

*Wolffe knows clones weren’t supposed to have feelings, only to do their duty by serving the republic and that was it. Not even allowed to have possessions and yet, the idea of you being his was something he couldn’t suppress. It was wrong but anytime any other man spoke to you, held your attention he longed to stun them with his blaster.

*Eventually, Sinker was able to get Wolffe to unravel everything he was hanging onto. At first teasing, the commander was his first instinct, however, once he noticed how uncomfortable and shrunken the man in front of him was he immediately began comforting him.

*Wolffe made Sinker swear not to tell a soul, in exchange for relentless teasing and inside jokes between the two now. Something Wolffe “hates” but it’s better than everyone knowing, especially you while he gets all the advice from his brother on emotions, love, and most importantly how to get you in his grasp.

*“Kriff Wolffe, I’ve never seen you blush so much,” All Wolffe could let out was a low growl, eyes too focused on you walking down the hallway. Just the way you smiled and greeted him left him in a trance. “Guess that’s why they call it puppy love! Get it, Wolffe! Maybe we should just call you Wolffe Pup!”

*“Cut it out di’kut.” He hissed, walking away to escape to his quarters.

______________

Echo- This precious baby is worried he's not good enough for you. He's super shy and just wants to treat you the way you deserve is that too much to ask?

*100% hopeless romantic, but not sure how to execute it.

*This boy is SOFT. But he’s not one to seek out that attention for himself, he just wants to bask you in that attention, making you feel like you’re his whole world. Because you are. He’d do absolutely anything for you. But in the beginning, it was hard for him to even consider himself worthy of your love. He never knew what love actually felt like until he met you, but he was always intrigued by the idea of love.

*When he first locked eyes with you, it was in a cantina on Tatooine. Wrecker insisted on checking the planet out to scope out any odd bounties to take care of since there were no current missions.

*Of course, once his eyes met with yours that was it. A chill ran down his spine, and his cheeks were dusted with a rosy hue. Butterflies filling his stomach. Once the rest of the bad batch caught on, boy did they give him hell.

*Majority of their time on Tatooine, Echo would wander off by himself into town in hopes to run into you, but knowing damn well he wouldn’t try anything. He was far too scared and self-conscious about it. Especially after meeting the Techno Union, he didn’t feel worthy of your time, didn’t feel like he deserved anyone. He felt like a monster.

*If he wasn’t looking around for you, he was sitting outside the bad batch ship, prosthetic knees pulled into his chest as he pondered the true meaning of love. Considering the possibility you are what most call a “soul mate.”

*All the secret reading of holo novels and never prepared him for the true experience and now he’s left alone with his thoughts. Hatred building at all his imperfections he now has.

*Tech at one point tried to explain the whole biological basis of love and theories supporting it, but that only made Echo’s head spin. On the other hand, he had Wrecker in his ear on the vulgarities of love. Though, because these troopers were different, they didn’t discourage their brother either. They fully supported whatever would make him happy which only made him think of Fives even more. Fives would know what to say and guide him in the right direction because after all Fives always had civies swooning over him.

*“For Fives.” He’d repeat over and over, trying to muster the courage to even approach you at the market. Echo wanted his brother to be proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone in an attempt to discover if what he was truly feeling was love.

*Even though he was embarrassed to admit it to himself, he attempted some of Fives’ pick up lines but when the words tumble out of his mouth…they sound more like rambles, managing to forget the important parts of said pick up lines leaving Echo red and more flustered

*He’s honestly so precious trying to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Even if he’s making a fool out of himself, the giggle he gets from you is so rewarding that he keeps coming back to your vendor stall.

*The way he sees you look at him like he’s not broken and defective based on his cybernetics makes his heart leap. He finally found someone that hasn’t pitied him or trying to fix him.

*This is love. This is without a doubt the definition of love he was searching for. Crosshair was wrong. Soul Mates did exist, and it was you. Maker was it you, and he will do his best to try and show you how much he cherishes you as he learns more.

________

Fives- This man doesn’t stop at anything!! We all know he’s a popular man, but when that one special someone has his heart that’s it. He’s 100% devoted and will try to win their love every single day as if its started all over again. His pick up jokes are hella corny though and I will die on this hill!

*Confidence!!! Need I say more? Especially after a few drinks at 79s.

*This man will not hesitate to invade your personal space and whisper sweet nothings in someone's ear. Except when he tries it on you? He earns a swift smack to the face, damaging his ego a bit.

*Boy, the look on the rest of the 501st’ face should’ve been holorecorded. He’s NEVER rejected. But you weren’t the type to entertain drunk strangers. Despite the embarrassing encounter, Fives is plotting another scheme to get your attention. Although let's be honest, he’s always scheming!

*Even though he has a pretty high body count, it never meant anything to him. Just some stimulation and stress relief. However, that all stopped when he laid eyes on you. He swore to himself that he’d do everything in his power to be with you. But not just intertwined in the sheets, no, soul and all, hand and hand.

*Fives has heard about love before, but he never really thought he’d find someone who made him feel like that. If he was being honest with himself, he was kinda skeptical about it. After all, he didn’t really know anyone who experienced it. At least he wasn’t aware.

*It took him quite a few days of talking in the mirror and hyping himself up before he dared to try again before it dawned on him you may not even be there again. This kind of sends him spiraling a bit, anxiety starting to creep up on him like a Rishi Eel.

*One thing about Fives though is he’s determined. He was willing to wait as long as he possibly could to cross paths with you once more in hopes to patch things up and catch your attention. Some of the boys had Kix check up on their brother as he was constantly rambling to himself, thinking about all the possible scenarios he’d had with you at 79s. He managed to convince everyone he was fine though, just strategizing.

*His second attempt at winning you over went a little something like this; You were leaning against the bar, talking to a friend while he waltzed up to order a drink. He notices your friend begins to nudge you, only for you to roll your eyes once you see who it is. Of course, he’s got that stupid grin on his face, ready to work his magic. “You look tired darling.” His mouth hovers over the brim of the glass, eyes locking with yours. “I’m fine.” Your eyebrow raised, curious as to what game this clone was playing. You had to admit he was ballsy and hot…in an irritating kind of way. “Hmm...Surprised.” Fives mumbled taking another sip of his Trandoshan ale, “Cos you’ve been running through my mind all day.” The friend next to you ended up spitting her drink on the floor and your face beat red and not because of the alcohol.

*Once he laid out that card, that was it. He locked you in and you had no choice but to give him some of your time.

*Just the way he admires the words tumbling out of your lips, all attention on you, is surprising. Here you thought you had a man just wanting to slip into your pants and yet, he’s listening to your life story, asking questions about you. Your likes, dislikes, everything.

*He’s not one to admit he’s wrong, but he apologizes for his first interaction with you. Even admits that he was so awestruck with your beauty that his brain just stopped functioning.

*After several outings, his demeanor never changes. He’s so into you and remembers every detail about you. Any shift in your tone and he’s pressing you to talk about whatever is on your mind. Wanting to be the one to help you through it all.

*“Ya know Rex. I think I’m in love?” The captain couldn’t help but let out a snicker before realizing Fives is serious. “You? In love? Since when was that possible?” Fives just rolled his eyes and gave Rex a somewhat gentle push, before sneaking a peek at the holopic he has of you. Love was better than he expected, especially when it involved you.

[ships-for-you]

Dl and free matchup, if possible? I’m a 5’4, ISFJ and leo/virgo cusp female. I have an hourglass figure, darkgreen eyes, long blonde hair and fair skin. I’m usually quiet, but can be loud. I’m stubborn, thoughtful, headstrong, straightforward, but also secretly emotional. I like being active, reading, cooking, new adventures, scary things, fashion, music, art, animals and sybaritic tastes. I dress according to mood. I’m very into dark humour. I’m both serious and relaxed. thx!😇

I'd like to note that for your DL matchup, it could be a bit triggering(?) Or violent, in that regard. It could also be a bit offensive but when it comes to the DL fandom, we can only expect this much.😅

For Free, I ship you with Sosuke Yamazaki!

I personally found you to be Sosuke’s type.

Being quite stubborn and headstrong, I feel as if someone as level-headed and composed such as Sosuke will be able to keep someone like you on the correct mindset.

Sosuke is the type of person that although doesn’t openly state his feelings a lot, he’ll be sure to express it through his actions to compensate since that’s just in his character to do so.

He may always seem like he doesn’t care,

 and usually he doesn’t, since he doesn’t like to sweat the small stuff,

but he does and it shows with people he’s close to like Rin, and his group mates.

Sosuke isn’t particularly interested in relationships, I feel like but if he does feel like it,

he’ll know.

You’d have to be a friend of Gou’s or the Iwatobi swim team since Samezuka is an all-boy’s school so…

Like you would have to have been a transfer student because you wanted to experience the luxury of Japan firsthand, or something like that.

You’d probably bond with Gou over more feminine things like the cutesier side of your fashion tastes and the like.

When you like stuff like skirts, dresses, blouses or whatever, you’re pretty self-indulgent with it and tend to burn cash on it since you know you’ll look good in it, so why not?

Gou would be your shopping buddy, whether you actually buy something or just window shopping and eating sweets and stuff, she knows you and likes you.

Even if sometimes you may come across as snobby.

Rei likes you for his interest in all things beautiful so your appreciation and understanding for art so you two also bond in that regard.

You would have met Sosuke when you were cheering for Iwatobi as they were against Samezuka while training.

You would be observing each person’s swimming style just because you saw how different and diverse they mostly were.

Sosuke would’ve noticed you when practice was nearly over as he saw you conversing with the Iwatobi members and complimenting them for the power and grace they exuded while swimming.

At first he noticed your pale hair that wasn’t so natural of a color for an asian.

Then he noticed you just weren’t of their continent entirely.

He is intrigued by your style and physique because he’s never seen anyone like you in real life and not from the internet or magazines.

He honestly thought you could be a model and he’d pay good money for magazines you’d feature in…

But then he remembers that ew, that sounds creepy and really perverted also, he’s been staring in your general direction so not only has he gained the attention of Haruka’s team,

He also gained yours.

So he’d immediately turn away and pretend like nothing happened.

He’d start seeing you more often when you’re at competitions or tournaments, rooting for your friends 

Or maybe even at times he comes to visit Rin in his house and you’d answer the door because you probably were hanging out with Gou.

He’d start to develop more substantial feelings for you later on but if you expect him to confess immediately after realizing it, he wouldn’t.

Because at times, you do genuinely annoy him but then he also thinks you’re pretty chill to hang out with.

The way that you kind of suppress your emotions or what you’re feeling helps him understand why he’s also like that in regards to keeping his feelings and how it must make other people feel.

He’ll tell you how he feels after he fully understood the extent of his feelings and confess with a grand gesture that he’s probably been saving and planning for months just because he think you’ll prefer it that way.

If it’s what the lady wants, he’ll deliver.

For Diabolik Lovers, I ship you with Reiji Sakamaki!

Again, like most of my character matchups, the characters seem like they don’t have much in common with the sender of the request.

Here, it’s sort of different.

In all honesty, I didn’t doubt for a second that Reiji would be your match.

From the moment you set foot in the manor to accompany Yui, you were screwed.

But honestly, if it weren’t for the no killing rule and you being included in it as well, you would not have survived you first 3 days.

You weren’t as devoted to your religion as Yui was, or religious in general, and so you had little to nothing limiting your perception of what may be real and what couldn’t.

So when you started to notice something suspicious about your whole predicament and the unsettling aura your friend’s “relatives” were embodying, you were certain there was something wrong.

“They’re vampires, I know it.” “I don't think my-” “I’m telling you Yui, I know they’re vampires. What else could they be?”

And guess what? You were right.

Time progresses and it’s obvious your little companion had been the target of majority of the siblings mainly because they got more of a kick out of her expressions.

It really doesn't do for most of them to have someone as strong-willed or headstrong as you since it’s too bothersome.

Except for one,

Well, let’s be honest, there are actually 2 but nobody really cares about the other one,

Reiji will absolutely not take your bullshit, your disobedience, your “Insubordination.” as he calls it.

At first he enjoyed the fact that you were relatively quiet and so no additional noise was heard within the walls of the mansion as he’s, apparently,” heard enough tongues flap in their idiotic mouths.” already.

But because you were silent, you showed your resilience through your actions such as wandering around places you weren't supposed to, 

Touching things you weren't supposed to just because they seemed expensive and therefore pretty,

And occasionally stopping the others from feeding off of Yui.

That bothered him immensely, who are you to tell creatures, far superior in comparison to you, what to do? To hinder them from what they want and need?

Also to note, the fact you look quite similar to his older brother and his late mother?

Girl,

Your very existence is a THREAT to his "polite" reputation.

He simply cannot wait to torture you, discipline you until you know your place.

He wants to hear you scream, you've got a mouth, might as well get it to work.

Your blood isn't the best but he just adores the expression on your face, the satisfaction and gratification he feels when he knows he's driving you near the edge...

He doesn't allow you the luxury of dying though, which is unfortunate.

He does cater to your desires at times.

Although, in the end, it mostly benefits him. For example,

Showcasing his prized fine china set. Preparing tea for you in one of the most beautiful cups you've ever seen,

Only for the tea to be poisoned, or drugged.

He'd strike you hard with his whip, should you show your subordination again.

Oh, but only with his best one, made with the finest of Italian leather. You'd like that, won't you?

Oh, you care for fashion, don't you? He'll be sure to dress you up according to your status in his eyes.

So a maid outfit will have to do.

Sometimes, he's punished you by keeping you bare and cold and so you'd occasionally get sick. Peasants don't usually have clothes unless they beg for rags.

But you know better than to beg, don't you?

He's training you to be the only woman worthy of his time. His ideal woman.

His ideal blood bag.

So what if you're not the Eve? You're his and his alone. He'll keep you with him until he becomes Adam either way.

It doesn't matter if he keeps you as his little spoiled pet or his high-maintenance servant.

You're his and his alone.

~~~~~|~~~~~~~~|~~~~~~~|~~~~~~~|

[nightsysdoesart]

yeah so

so i had a mental health crisis last night and didn’t go to bed until after 5:30 and i wrote this sort of as a coping thing. it was really cathartic, but as you might guess, it’s really depressing. tws in the tags

The first 1k words are some fluff and the last 1k are all depressing. I pulled most of this from my real life, with some changes (obviously. i mean, i am sitting here typing this) yes the people in this are based off people i know/knew irl

reader discretion advised, this is really sad and upsetting. i just wanted to post it to get it out of my saved writings that never see the light of day. plus i spent all night on this.

2241 words

She’s talking, hands flapping excitedly as she infodumps about butterflies and moths, lepidopterans, she calls them. She’s loud and expressive and bubbly, the opposite of me. Maybe that’s why I love her so much. Love. What a crazy thing, the chemicals in your brain firing in such a way when you meet the right person that you’re willing to do anything for them. People pass on the sidewalk in front of us, and kids play on the playground behind us. Leaves crunch under their feet, and our breaths are visible in the cool autumn air. Laughter and chatter echo through the park.

Her curly hair shines in the dying afternoon light. It seems to be getting dark earlier and earlier. Her eyes are bright, though. They shine with excitement as she tells me about the coloring patterns of poisonous butterflies, how they warn animals away, and how some non-poisonous species mimic the poisonous ones to survive. I feel my lips curve into a smile, her enthusiasm infectious. My eyes snag on her mouth, moving quickly as she speaks so fast I can barely keep up. Her lips, always so quick to tilt into a smile, make everything out to be the best it possibly can be. Always so quick to offer reassurance and a positive comment. The best part of this world I’ve been condemned to.

Police sirens startle both of us, her hand flaps turning nervous as she goes silent. They fade into the distance, and I quickly sign to her, trying my best to reassure her. It takes a few minutes, but her breathing goes back to normal. I sign and question, and she nods. I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her with touch. She turns to me, looking at my shoulder as I watch her chin. It starts to wobble after a second, and I gently pull her into my arms as she collapses into my chest. I play with the ends of her hair as she sobs, coming down from the adrenaline shock of fear.

I press my eyes closed as a breeze comes through, threatening to make my eyes water. She shivers, and I wrap my arms more fully around her, dipping my chin to lean my head on her. Her hair smells like her hair products. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s inexplicably her. Through both of us adjusting to get more comfortable, she ends up in my lap. Her shaking slows down, and she looks up at me. I offer her a small smile and cup her cheek with my hand. She leans into it and closes her eyes, being absolutely adorable. I clench my gut at the onslaught of emotion I feel when her lips curve into a small smile. She looks happy and content. With me. Because of me.

But I can’t keep this up. I can’t keep her safe. Not from everything that’s going on. Not from the world that will keep hurting her, for no fault of her own. I can’t protect her, keep her smile on her face. I will inevitably fail. This is a situation I can’t succeed in. I’m bound to disappoint her. I don’t want to fail her; she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If only I could do better, be better, then I could make sure she was never sad or in pain. If I could do more, I could make sure she didn’t have to deal with racists, misogynists, queerphobes… I could make her happy, always. I could make sure the smile never left her face and make sure she had everything she ever wanted.

Her eyes flutter open, catching on my ear. She asks a question I don’t fully process. She noticed me tensing up, drifting away in my mind. I shrug my shoulders, wanting to savor this moment with her rather than dive into it right now. She seems to understand, falling silent again. This time, it’s a comfortable, companionable silence. She leans her head against my shoulder, and I rub her cheek with my finger. Sometimes the world gets so fast I forget to stop and appreciate what I have. What I don’t deserve. What I won’t always have.

I press a kiss to the crown of her head and feel one of her arms disentangling from around me to happy stim. I suppress a smile and press another to her forehead, another to her nose. She lifts her head a bit, guessing my next question. I still ask, though. I tap the corner of her mouth with my pointer finger, and she nods, smiling and happy stimming a bit more. I grin, feeling my mouth go lopsided as I close my eyes and press my lips to her.

Every time feels like the first time.

Nevermind the facts that it’s only been a handful of times. I will treasure every kiss I get from her. They are gifts, and I can’t be more grateful. Kisses from her feel like how looking at outer space feels when you’re in an area with low light pollution. I feel simultaneously small and in awe and wonder of how something, someone, so amazing could exist. And I have the honor of being here, at this moment, to experience it.

It doesn’t feel like the fireworks and explosions I’ve read; it feels like a quiet night where you might see a shooting star, but even more importantly, you’re sitting on a blanket with the one you love as the sky blazes purple and blue with twinkly lights here and there. I learned all about the constellations when I was younger, but I can’t sign to her while she looks up. I wish I could infodump to her the same way she does to me. I wish I was verbal like her; I wish I could take the words in my brain and put them in other people’s ears.

Her phone goes off, buzzing against my thigh as we separate. Her face dims as she reads the text. She lets me know she has to go as she stands and collects her bag. I stand up too, opening my arms as an invitation for one last hug. She takes me up, wrapping her arms around my midsection. I lean down a little to rest my head on hers, closing my eyes as I savor the moment. She pulls back, and I mirror, expecting her to leave, but she surprises me with another kiss. I happy stim as well, thumbing the spinner ring on my finger as I kiss her back. I try to memorize the feel of her lips on mine, her hands on my back, her curly hair in my fingers, our bodies pressed together- nevermind the fact I won’t have the memories for too much longer.

I do my best to make her last memory of me a good one. We break apart and I sign to her how much I love her, no matter what. She smiles and signs back, still learning. She waves goodbye and heads down the street to her apartment. I picked this park for our last meeting place so I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting home safely. This city isn’t as bad as others, but there are always bad people. I watch as she strides confidently down the sidewalk, a look I’ve seen more and more on her as we’ve been together longer. She’s grown so much, gotten so much happier- which is why I need to do this before I ruin it. Before I hurt her like I always do with those I love. Once she’s out of sight, I head back towards my apartment. It’s several blocks away, and I use that time to run over my plan in my head, to ensure that there will be no hiccups. I switch my music to instrumental and try to relax.

It doesn’t work, though, as I fumble with my keys and nearly drop them trying to get my door open. My hands are shaking so badly it takes me four tries to get the key in the lock. What am I, scared? No, I’m ready for this. I’ve come close many times, but this is the time. I’m going to do it tonight.

I swallow a handful of ibuprofen and down another glass of water. I’ve been drinking a lot more water than I usually do the past few days. Sparkling water, of course, I have sensory issues with plain water. I turn on the spout in the bathtub, getting it warm but not too hot. I grab some candles, lighting them to help me feel more relaxed. I put a bath bomb in the slowly filling tub for the same reason. Switching my music to the speakers placed strategically around the small space, I wander into the kitchen for a knife and sharpener. I change into a swimsuit because fully clothed would feel weird, but my dysphoria is bad enough to unsettle me right now.

Moving to the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the bathtub with my feet in the water as it slowly rises. I work on sharpening the blade as my hands shake uncontrollably. I sigh, setting down the knife and sharpener to move to the kitchen. It takes a minute of digging, but I find the bottle of vodka I had put back there in case I needed it. I squirt a ton of water flavoring in; I’ve never loved the flavor of alcohol. I take a sip and put in some more flavoring.

Making my way back to the tub, I find that it’s mostly full. I set the blade on the ledge of the tub and slide in, sighing at the warmth. Picking up the vodka bottle that’s now filled with green liquid, I take a big gulp, the liquid burning as it goes down. I keep sipping as I think. I let my mind fill with thoughts of her as the tub finishes filling with water. I push the remains of the bath bomb around with my finger, watching the colors trail out of it. Rainbow colors, like the colors of all the dresses she wears. Rainbow colors, like all the colors she’s dyed her hair. Bright and wonderful, like her. 

She’ll be happier with me gone. She’ll be able to find someone new, someone who can say “I love you” out loud. Someone who can infodump verbally, someone who can do all the things I can’t. She deserves someone more, someone who is better. She’s better off without me; the whole world is. With that in mind, I pick up the knife and start cutting. Right arm first. I dig in, barely feeling the pain. It’s bleeding a lot, which is good. But I can’t really see if I’m cutting in the right place or not, so I just keep pressing the knife in deeper until it hurts too badly to continue. I don’t know if I hit the artery or not, but it’s bleeding pretty heavily, so I’ll leave it at that. I dunk my hand in the water, watching as blood swirls and dissipates in the water. More blood comes out of my wrist immediately, which is a good sign.

I switch my knife to the other hand and immediately drop it into the water, my hand wet and slippery. I fish it out and dry my hands off with the bath towel hanging on the wall. I sip some more alcohol, hoping to get deeper on my other wrist. I take a deep breath and check the time on my phone. Good, I have plenty of time before my roommate will be home. I pick up the blade again and start on the other wrist, the shaking worse than before. Now, I feel every little movement in my right wrist, and it’s not responding normally; I think I nicked the tendons in there. My usual coordination is gone, and I’m glad I did my non dominant hand first.

I’m getting kind of lightheaded, and I’m not entirely sure why, but I just keep going. I’m not going to let some dizziness stop me. I’m doing this, and I’m doing it now. 

Spots swim in front of my eyes as I start breathing faster, almost like I’m hyperventilating. I try to remember my breathing exercises, but I can’t remember what counts they were. Was it four in or seven in? Why can’t I remember? I’ve literally used this same exercise for most of my life. Am I? What am I… ? Something slips from my hand, there’s noise in the background. A splash and noise, radiating pain and- what’s going on? I just wanted to hit quit. Why do I have to put so much work into it?

My head drops, and I can’t keep my eyes open. Am I? Why am I in the bathtub with my swimsuit? There’s a noise that won’t stop. I know it from somewhere. Over the throbbing of my head and the sound of my breath, I hear the front door unlocking. Why is my roommate home so early?? Oh well, they’ll leave me alone for a little bit. I can’t see anything; the pain is gone, there’s nothing to sense. The sound bounces in my head. The video chat ringtone I set for her, echoing off into the void.

[taurealuna]

how do u think my life moving back to Indiana will be like?? I made a drastic move across the country and I’m ready to go back and be with my friends and i feel so giddy about it and I feel like I’m manifesting just overall a fun time, I can feel it in my bones :) I guess one of the main things I want to know is career wise will I prosper?? thank you so much :)) you’re such a power reader, I hope you’re staying safe and healthy!!! ✨💖

omg woww i can feel the excitement in your message and i genuinely hope you had a fun time like you manifested 💕💕 may happiness always be present in your life! and oh my, thank you for your empowering message, i will definitely take more care of myself! 

i personally feel that your career for you has been like a mix of fate and adventure. while others around you seem to have a smooth transition from schooling to working, your journey in your career could have been filled with ups and downs in a way you can’t control. i feel that your career is meant to make you feel and experience many different experiences, good or bad, to open your eyes up to the world around you. i feel that you have indeed move across the world or around places to try and build or find a career that you like. life is filled with adventures with you, ain’t it? for some reason, your career you seem to have many more adventures and sudden changes as compared to others. if you haven’t, i feel that career wise you’ll be able to connect with your deeper self, through the meeting of other people or reconnecting with your friends, and you’ll be able to get in touch with your inner self. it seems that while you have very abundant emotions, you may suppress it or ignore it in times of difficulty or in general. you may have a fear of what listening to your heart can bring you, so you try to avoid it. however, i feel that only you will be able to know what makes you happy. suppressing your emotions can only cause it to overflow afterwards. while you may have been “wandering” about in terms of how you want to define your career, it seems that it is because career wise there has been many pivotal points present that shape you to be who you are now, real or not. in your career, you could have faced many moments where you found it hard to be yourself and follow your instincts. instead, you chose to mask yourself up and become someone who people know, but they don’t understand deeply. whilst this is not your fault, it is time for you to move away from the parts of your life that were too heavy for you to handle and build yourself up now. water the garden in your heart again. i feel that you could have a water midheaven/6th house, where people may tend to take advantage of because of your kind and understanding personality. because of this, you feel shattered and unable to build your confidence. and now, you will be able to have a new or better beginning for your career. although it may not be immediate and very life-changing, you will be able to assert yourself in a way you feel comfortable in over-time. it will be much better than the past. 

interestingly, it feels that the past was, in a way, different from what you expected. you had your own dreams and passions, no matter if they were realistic or not, you found it hard to chase after it, because reality may be restrictive and just “too realistic”. because of this, you may shun away from being confident in how smart and aware you are, you pick things up fast like a sponge but you rarely let others know, or you try to but people don’t seem to get it. this may cause you to change yourself and ignore your intuition. the best thing to do right now is for you to nurture your inner loving and dreamer side again, and find a way to put it into action! don’t let the past hold you back :)

life back in Indiana could be different from how you left it to be, especially with death and the devil. whilst it’s not exactly speaking about a literal death and a devil’s appearance. it could signify that your hometown may be different from how you expect it to be. things are likely not the same as before, maybe the house, the land, the plants, the sea, the people have undergone many changes. thus, it may be difficult for you to fully understand what is going on. combined with the page of swords in reverse, it could speak of someone who may be deceiving and cunning who is manipulating things, making it hard for you to blend in. otherwise, it can speak of the current vibes at home, people find it hard to believe in facts and whether there would be any hope for the future. 

[vulcan-highblood]

Not According To Plan (2/5)

Fandom: Supergirl (2015)/Legion of Superheroes

Summary: (Post Season 3 Ep.18 "Shelter From the Storm") Querl and Imra return to the 31st Century. It's not at all what they expected.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Chapter 2: The Reaction

Querl never realized how lonely it was to be trapped in your own head until his thoughts had nowhere else to go. The others would tease him, at times, about his attachment to devices and other objects they considered “inanimate”. But they were fully organic beings, they didn't understand computers, not the way Querl did. They couldn’t see how clever some systems were, they’d never really noticed the antics some devices would pull. True, the devices and computers that Querl interacted with on a daily basis were not sentient the way a Coluan was, but neither were pets and nobody made fun of people for conversing with or ascribing anthropomorphic qualities to them.

He’d been on the Legion cruiser for over three hours, watching his teammates manually input the coordinates for the route through neutral space that Rokk had eventually gotten from their Braalian contact. Querl wasn’t even allowing himself to touch the computer, too worried that he might access the device unintentionally. Instead, he stood back, watching the Legionnaires inputting the information with painstaking slowness and fighting back an ever-growing sense of frustration. Was this to be his life, now, in the 31st century? He couldn’t function like this, he wasn’t built to be so totally cut off from all computer systems. It was like torture, like he’d completely walled off a part of his own soul. Which, to be fair, he essentially had, as he was as much A.I. as he was an organic lifeform. 

“Brainy, we would all really appreciate it if you would stop pacing,” Rokk snapped, glancing up from the console to fix an irritated glare on Querl.

Querl froze, steepling his fingers as he stared back at the Braalian. “Very well,” he said, barely suppressing the urge to respond in a childish manner. “I will stop pacing.” It took far more willpower than he’d expected, but he did stop. He watched them plug in another coordinate, and another. Grife, it was going to take them another 2.564 hours to complete the task at this rate. Inhaling deeply, Querl focused on exhaling as slowly as possible. It helped, incrementally. He watched them plug in the wrong coordinate. Waited to see if they would notice. They didn’t. “Rokk, that should be one-four-seven-five point nine-nine-eight-three by one-two-seven point seven-seven-four-eight-one,” Querl pointed out, “Not one-four-seven-five point nine-nine-eight-three by one-two-seven point seven-seven-four-eight- seven.”

Rokk glanced between his notes, the map they’d been charting, and blanched. “Right,” he noted, and changed the coordinate. “Thanks, Brainy.”

“You’re welcome,” Querl answered. It wasn’t much. Wasn’t anything, really, considering how quickly he’d have been able to plot the route if he were in contact with the cruiser’s computer. But that was no longer an option. 

“I wonder what Legion HQ looks like without computers,” Reep Daggle wondered aloud, plotting the next coordinate. “I bet it looks different.”

Querl didn’t want to think about it. But it was better than wondering what Colu would look like. “I am certain that the aesthetic details will not have changed significantly, merely the mechanisms required to operate it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Chameleon agreed, frowning as he waited for Rokk to finish typing in his coordinate before starting the next one. 

Querl resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to take a long time.

~~*~~

After manually inputting all of the commands to fly the Legion cruiser to New Metropolis, they were finally able to gather everyone together to discuss their options. As the Legionnaire who had spoken with the Braalian, Cosmic Boy seemed the best choice to lead the meeting. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Rokk said, ignoring the fact that there really weren’t many other places to go when aboard a spacecraft. “As we’ve all been made aware by now, the mission was a success, and we successfully prevented the Blight from ever happening.” He frowned a little. “However, from what I understand, a new threat has taken its place. A villain, one that many are calling the Computer Tyrant , has created a virus that spread throughout the universe, destroying all forms of Artificial Intelligence.” 

Eyes turned to Querl, who was doing his best to ignore that and keep his gaze fixed on Rokk. Everything felt so much slower when he didn’t have as many things to occupy his mind, and he mentally noted who was staring at him (everyone but Rokk), immediately regretting his decision. He didn’t like being under scrutiny.

“What makes this interesting is that the Computer Tyrant is identified using a symbol we are all very familiar with.” Now Rokk, too, was staring at Querl.

The sensation of being stared at was growing nigh unbearable. Nonetheless, Querl persisted. He pointed to the symbol on his chest, trying not to look put out. He had a very good idea of who this Computer Tyrant might be, and it was objectively terrifying. “Yes, he or she is most likely a Brainiac,” Querl said, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably, if the tremor in his voice was any indicator. “This symbol has long been used as a crest for my clan, and was recognized by our Braalian contact as a symbol of the Computer Tyrant. It follows, then, that this…” Killer. Monster. Destroyer of worlds. “...villain… is likely one of my ancestors.” Which one, Querl had no real way of knowing. That was the problem with having a surplus of villainous ancestors. Too many to choose from to know for sure who was responsible. And it would likely be extremely difficult to get any information on that subject, considering Querl would not have access to any computer systems for the foreseeable future.

“What are we going to do?” one of the Legionnaires asked. It might have been Chameleon. Whoever it was, Querl hadn’t spotted them, as he had directed his gaze to the crest emblazoned on his chest. Without access to the ship’s security system, he wasn’t able to view the room from alternate angles to identify who had spoken. He fought down another wave of irritation at the inconvenience.

“First, we’ll head back to Legion HQ,” Cosmic Boy said, “And from there, we’ll try to gather information, and come up with a plan.”

Querl nodded along with the rest of the room, but his mind was whirling. A plan. To do what? How could they eradicate what was clearly deeply embedded in the social structure of this time? Grife, even an attempt to eradicate the virus might bring down upon their heads the wrath of planets that had benefited from the widespread eradication of advanced technology. Eradication of an entire race, if not races.

Oh, and that was a thought he didn’t want to pursue, but found his mind unable to resist the magnetism of horror that was slowly overtaking him. All Artificial Intelligence was eradicated. Dead. Colu was dead. Dead, without question. There was no way one of his ancestors would have created a virus to destroy all forms of artificial intelligence and chosen to spare Colu. True, Querl had been something of a persona non grata on his homeworld, due to his insatiable desire to create, design, and experiment. Colu was a world largely based on intellect, not action, which was a large part of why he’d left in the first place. But just because he hadn’t always felt welcome or wanted on his homeworld didn’t mean he wanted them all dead. The very thought sickened him, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. 

It was like all of his emotion was choking him, and that shouldn’t be, he had specific parameters in place to prevent his emotions from overwhelming him like that. Was it because he’d shut down all nonessential functions in his onboard AI? That didn’t make sense, the inhibitors were treated as an essential function. So what, then, was causing this failure to adequately process an emotional response?

“Brainy?” Imra was standing beside him, and sprock, he hadn’t seen her coming, hadn’t noticed her there, hadn’t… grife, he was falling apart, wasn’t he? 

“Saturn Girl,” Querl managed to force the words out, but his chest felt tight. Sprock, it shouldn’t hurt to breathe, he had kept all essential functions active. Was it the virus? Had he already been infected? Maybe he was dying, perhaps he hadn’t been fast enough to cut off access, and now he was going to shut down. “I think I’m… dying,” he choked out, looking down at his hands, watching them tremble as black spots danced in his vision. 

“Brainy,” Imra’s voice was a little more firm, “I want you to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath.”

Querl was breathing. He was breathing fine, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that he couldn’t sprocking feel his fingers or his toes. He was losing sensation. His AI was shutting down, he was losing his sprocking mind, he was dying, he was -

A sharp pain bloomed across the side of his face, and he blinked, hard. Imra was staring at him, eyebrows furrowed, hand extended. 

Tentatively, Querl reached up, resting his hand on his cheek. “You slapped me!” he accused.

“I did,” Imra didn’t sound the least bit repentant. “Now breathe in, and don’t breathe out until I tell you.”

Querl did as he was asked, confused, but not really wanting his last living moments to be spent getting slapped by Imra a second time. He inhaled deeply, waiting until Imra said “exhale slowly”, and then did so. He continued to breathe when she told him to, focusing on her commands, and was surprised to feel the tightness in his chest begin to loosen. His hands and feet were still cold, but he was starting to be able to feel them again. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and was glad to see they moved smoothly, no longer shaking uncontrollably. 

“Better?” Imra asked, her eyes concerned as she looked him over.

Querl took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I… think so,” he said. “I no longer believe I am dying, anyway.”

Nodding, Imra rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “That’s good. Do you need anything?”

Querl needed to feel safe. But there was little chance of that, at least in this century, it seemed. Instead, he shook his head. “I do not.”

Imra patted his shoulder again, and then walked over to whisper something in Rokk’s ear. The two of them glanced back at Querl over their shoulders and then returned to whispering. Again, Querl found himself wishing he had access to the computers, he would at least be able to try and read their lips if not pick up audio. How was he supposed to maintain his air of omniscience if he couldn’t see and hear what was going on at all times? It was so sprocking boring, all twelve of his thought-tracks being trapped in a single body that was still terrified of dying the next time he accessed a computer. He also needed to make sure that the Legion cruiser wasn’t contaminated - if it were, then they would end up stranded at HQ, at least until they learned how the people of this time piloted their spacecraft. The Braalian had insinuated that their race was somehow responsible for space travel. 

Querl wondered if it had to do with magnetism, what manner of propulsion system might be constructed using Braalian powers. That led him down a tangent, wondering if there were any other abilities in the Legion that could be applied as a propulsion system in the event that the Legion cruiser suffered a catastrophic system failure. 

There were no Legion powers that would save him from a catastrophic system failure, though. 

Sprock. He was supposed to be thinking about useful topics, not contemplating his own mortality. 

“I assume you have a backup of your brain somewhere?” Reep Daggle, ever insensitive, sidled up to Querl, shooting him a mischievous grin. “In case, you know,” he dragged his thumb across his throat in a crude gesture, crossing his eyes and allowing his tongue to loll out, his antennae drooping in a dramatic imitation of… death.

Shutting his eyes momentarily, Querl resisted the urge to strangle the Durlan. He turned to fully face his teammate, using every remaining ounce of self-control to steeple his fingers together, rather than resort to a more violent response. “That’s not how Coluan biology works, Chameleon.” 

“It’s not?” Reep at least had the decency to look upset at the revelation. “Oh. Oh!” He looked hard at Querl, his face twisting into a look of discomfort. “I feel like a nass. I didn’t know...” he looked away, his shoulders stiffening. “Sorry.”

Querl wanted to ask why he’d sprocking said it, then. Choosing instead to take the high road, he shrugged one shoulder. “Coluans die, same as any other organic being. Our consciousness, however, joins a larger construct of shared Coluan minds.”

“Oh, so like an afterlife!” Reep grinned.

It wasn’t like an afterlife, it was a literal afterlife, one constructed from all the ancestral minds that had gone before them. Except it wasn’t. Not anymore. “It used to be,” Querl said, before he could quite stop himself. 

The Durlan tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean, ‘used to be’ ?”

Querl’s hands trembled with the desire to clench into fists. “Our afterlife, as you call it, is a massive unity of Coluan minds. It is… an artificial construct.” Querl swallowed hard, and despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten recently enough to run any real risk of sicking up, he felt his stomach churn. “It is, in simple terms, a highly complex... Artificial Intelligence system.”

Reep stumbled back as though Querl had physically struck him. “What?”

He really was going to be sick, Querl realized, clutching at his stomach and inhaling sharply through his nose. It didn’t help. He coughed twice, feeling his insides twist inside him as he bent double, swallowing hard to fight back the saliva gathering in his mouth. It didn’t work. 

“But that means…” Reep was saying, his voice far away, “they’re all dead? Like, dead dead?”

Coughing again, Querl dropped to a crouch, now certain his insides were attempting to turn themselves inside out. A dribble of saliva ran down his chin, and he breathed, he swallowed… he failed to hold it in, his whole body convulsing as he heaved, dropping to all fours. The dribble of water he’d drank several hours earlier came up, splattering across the floor as he shuddered, still trying to vomit despite his now-empty stomach. 

Querl felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, holding him as he heaved, and shook, and heaved, and shook. It felt like an eternity before he was able to breathe without feeling his insides twist. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the bitter taste that lingered on his tongue. 

“I’m so sorry, grife, that was so insensitive of me,” Reep still had his arm slung around him as he rambled, “That’s sprocking horrible, I didn’t even think… sprock, your whole planet…”

Querl sat up slowly. “My whole planet,” he repeated. “Yes.” He shut his eyes. “Also my ancestor.”  

Beside him Reep stiffened. The arm around Querl’s shoulders tightened. “We’ll figure this out, Brainy. We will.”

I’m glad you’re confident in that, Querl thought dismally, because I am not.

[lifeinparagraph]

A Trip to a Fulfilling Moment

Most of the time, we all remember the most fulfilling moments of our lives as these have the capacity to change everything for us. This memoire recollects the hardships and struggles that a student underwent on her way to success. Join her as she remembers the great fulfillment she encountered after many bumps on the road.

          Growing up, my parents always praised me for excelling in my academics. Even from a very young age, I could feel the happiness and pride radiating from them the moment my teachers would tell them that I was part of the honors’ list, and seeing the smiles on their faces and receiving kisses on my chubby soft cheeks apparently made my tummy tickle so I would always try my best to make them happy. In my first grade of elementary, I was not able to make it to the honors’ list and seeing my classmates and friends wear their own medals just made me sad. I think that was the first time I ever felt disappointed with myself for not being able to reach my own and my parents’ expectations. My mother, especially, reassured me that it was fine and that I should not worry so much about it, so I did not. Thankfully, I reclaimed myself by making it to the honor roll for the next few years of elementary, until our graduation. Our elementary graduation was most probably one of the most heartbreaking yet learning moments of my life. I was not able to make it to the honor roll despite my best efforts of studying that school year. I even asked my mother to enroll me in a tutoring class to help me with my studies as I wanted to receive an honorary award during our ceremony, but I guess things just did not go my way. The frowns and silence that my parents gave just made me feel even worse.

           In junior high school, things got different because I lost all my motivation to strive to be an honor student. I was constantly exhausted from school and constantly losing patience with everything and everyone since I was going through puberty at the same time. I think the first two years of junior high was the time when I was working so much yet I was growing very slowly.

           When I entered tenth grade, my determination was beyond the roof. I wanted the same dream of that when I was in sixth grade but did not want the same mistakes. That school year consisted of a lot of tears being shed, a lot of times getting sick, a lot of sleepless nights, and a lot of sacrifices that I made just to fulfill the promise that I made to myself: to receive an honorary award during the moving-up ceremony.

           It was a few days after our final exams in junior high and our teachers called everyone to gather in one multi-purpose building in our school. As I arrived in school, my closest friends as well as some of my classmates greeted me by the gate. All of their faces portrayed happiness and joy of finally completing the junior high level while only some of them showed an expression of anxiousness for the announcement of the honor roll. We tried to shake our nervousness away and caught up with one another, sharing jokes and laughter without fully realizing that all of us will go our separate ways in a short span of two months. As time ticked, more and more people arrived making the environment buzzing in noise and the more our anxiety increased as well. When our class decided to go upstairs to the venue that was also the time when I was starting to get real nervous. It was as if every step that I take, my anxiety level increases a percentage. My hands were then starting to get sweaty and my legs were starting to get weak—a telltale sign of how uneasy I was really getting. Our teachers then started the gathering with the usual: a prayer, followed by a short speech by the principal and some of our teachers, and then the real announcement of honor students came in first. Honestly, I was completely fine with just being a third honor student and even set my mind on that as my goal. This is because I knew my capabilities so I knew that it was the only achievement I could attain, and I even talked about this to my mother months before that day and she was also fine with it. By this time, my heart was practically pounding against my ribcage and my eyes were starting to become watery. I waited for my name to be called… Name, after name, after another one yet my name was never called. I felt a hand patting my back softly but I did not bother to look at who it was because my eyes were glued to the teacher who was announcing the names. It cannot be. After months of suffering and sacrificing, it just cannot be. It was as if all the times when I felt physically and mentally exhausted to even function properly because of the overloading academic demands did not mean a thing. The time when I was literally balling my eyes out in my room feeling worthless while being sleep deprived and sick at the same time came flashing in my mind. I felt my heart drop and clench at the image of poor me crying on a chair with the pent up emotions that she endured. Tears in my eyes were threatening to fall, but then a sudden voice suddenly brought me back to the sad reality.

           “Second honors…” I heard it say. To be honest, there was a small part inside of me that hoped to be included in the second honors, but my mind said otherwise. I knew myself and what I was capable of doing and achieving, I could not possibly—“Llacuna, Erika Melle Ed P.”

           I was not able to even process the whole thing in my mind before my friends and classmates started cheering and pushing me to stand up. I was in a daze and it felt like everything was spinning. I was confused too, but seeing my teachers looking at me with proud smiles just confirmed it—I was an honor student, better yet: I am a second honor student! I never would have thought of achieving such a thing in my whole junior high ride.

           As I was walking towards the front, my mind was still processing what happened. Then happiness and extreme joy spread throughout my whole body like wildfire and before I knew it, my smile was already reaching my eyes. While shaking my teachers’ hands and hearing their greetings for me, I could not help but let the tears fall down my cheeks. No matter how hard I tried to suppress them, I gave up and just let them fall. So what if others think I was being overreacting? So what if they think I was being too emotional? They could not relate to what I was feeling at that very moment because they did not experience what I did and they did not have the same aspirations as I had.

           I went home that day with the biggest smile on my face that made my mother wonder. I did not tell any of my family about it at first, wanting to surprise them during the ceremony itself, but I could contain it any longer. My mother was beyond proud of me, as well as my father.

          May I tell you that my mother, being a teacher, had high expectations of me most especially when she used to teach in the school that I was (and am) attending. However, I know very well that she treasures my mental and physical wellbeing more than those expectations so she never really pressures me when it comes to my academics. She would always tell me, “Just do what you can. Don’t push yourself too much. If your teacher finds your work mediocre, then tell her that that’s the best that you can do.” Then there was me who wanted to make my parents proud and somehow repay the efforts and hardwork that they exerted to send me to a high-quality institution. Actually, to be honest, me working hard to become an honor student was not mainly for the sole reason of redeeming myself but rather replacing the gray expressions that my parents wore during my sixth grade graduation to a more brighter one. I want them to be proud of me as well as to be proud of themselves and their hardwork.

[5darkhorse9]

Meteora

It’s been extremely hard these past weeks since the last time, extremely emotionally challenging, I am always in my head, spinning the same thoughts over and over and wishing I did things differently and said things differently. I really felt like I was going insane. Feeling so stuck because I can’t go back and undo anything, so sad, frustrated and filled with regret because in the end it was always MY CHOICE AND NOBODY ELSE’S to continue in a situation that was bad for me. 

I didn’t keep hooking up with you because it physically felt amazing or I could orgasm hard or anything of that sort. I did because it was you and I was really into you and found it difficult to let go. Because I genuinely enjoyed spending time with you and I found temporary comfort and happiness in that intimacy with you. If we're looking at straight facts, I know you finished each time obviously, but other than the first time we ever hooked up when you took me to your house, you never made me cum, so it really wasn’t about that and I never put any thought into it, just felt nice to be with you like that and have that connection. I didn’t question it because I really liked you. It hit me that at the end of the day, you didn’t really ever deeply get to know me and my body like that and what feels good/what doesn’t. Then the sex happened and we already discussed the first time crap; moving on, the second time we had sex, I know you REALLY tried and I felt better and more connected. The third time was good, I thought I was finally getting to a more comfortable level with you, but I got REALLY drunk emotional after, and the reality of the situation started seeping in. And we had a convo about how empty and sad I feel when you leave and I explained to you the whole addiction analogy I had to you and chasing the highs and then withdrawing, cuz thats exactly what was happening. I was chasing temporary highs because I was so lost and this seemed like the only good thing in my life, but withdrawal hit me so hard each time. Then the last time you came over, reality slapped like a motherfucker and whether I wanted it to or not, my body knew this wasn't right. It wasn’t exactly the best time if I'm being honest, halfway through I wasn’t really into it, but you came over for a reason obv and I wasn't gonna ruin it for you. I’ve been analyzing everything over and over and looking back, I was SO BLIND all this time, and have been lying to myself so much that it’s beyond disturbing. 

In my gut I always knew this whole situation was wrong, but always ignored it, threw everything in the back burner because I had that attachment to you. I got into suppression mode a while ago, and kept lying to myself over and over and chasing temporary highs with you. I bounced back every time that I felt like you hurt me and carried on. I stayed in this toxic situation and participated in the cycle over and over, because of multiple reasons. I didn’t love myself enough to be able to step away from being a side hoe type thing, to walk away simply because I deserve better. Let me start off saying this isn’t intended to be an attack towards you, I'm really mostly dealing with myself and how much I FUCKED up my morals and have lost myself completely while pointing out some truths to you. SO I'm just gonna try to be honest throughout this post.

As much as the first time hurt, I got over it, we talked about that and you were more careful and whatnot the second time, trying different positions over and over, paying attention to my body, which is why that was my favorite time, but after that it was always just....rough. And I get it, from your perspective you thought I was into the whole rough thing, you aren't really with virgins ever, and I was able to always take it without saying anything despite the fact that I literally was not experienced. I let you do your thing and fuck me your way. I’ve always let you be in charge. Thing is, it never stopped hurting. It hurt all the times we had sex, sometimes still a lot, not to the extent of first time, but still hurt. But like being kinda kinky, I would find a weird “pleasure” in the pain, I found it hot, the whole you dominating me thing. Being fucked into oblivion and all that, with the exception of the last time, I enjoyed being in that moment with you, that’s what was hot. Despite having no experience, only having sex a limited amount of times, and having them SO spaced out, I still always let you go full force as much as it hurt and just took it. 

As much as I liked spending time with you, I realized I was never actually able to FULLY relax around you, my body was always tense in some form and I would feel myself tightening up as you would enter me, which I'm sure felt good for you, but it hurt for me. The pain would get better as we got into it but it also contributed to me never having an orgasm. The last time the pain never really got better throughout it, and when I asked you if I could get on top you wouldn't let it happen, that just turned me off and made it hurt even more. I told you “I need a break from your big dick” not to boost your ego, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment and be like “can you stop fucking me it hurts”.... I guess it turned me off that you kept fucking me your way and it took you a while to finally switch, just wasn't into it and then back to that position that you enjoy...at that point I just let you finish, not the best time for me. But what you said after killed it completely. 

We’re sitting there after, and you’re all pleased, I'm just sitting there feeling sore and whatever and we talked about why I couldn’t finish..and you said “well its not me, I don’t have this problem”... basically saying it’s my fault? Not cool honestly, you don’t say that shit to a girl who has always given you and only you her body unconditionally despite the fact that she knew you didn't love her and didn't want to be with her and has done nothing but made you feel good. That coupled with you saying “well jaime cums like twice before I did” and “you're hard to please” literally NOTHING that I want to EVER hear combined with the fact that it never really felt good for me. All that REALLY fucked me up mentally, and the best part was when you leave me alone and I'm sitting on the toilet in pain and crying after making me feel like there was something wrong with me and feeling used...it was one of the worst moments I ever experienced. I started feeling shitty about my body again, like there was something wrong with me sexually but really like it’s the situation with you that was the problem. I can literally cum in minutes just being tuned on and not even looking at porn when I'm alone lol so my body is NOT the problem here. It’s everything about the situation not being right. 

The aftermath has always been hard, each time my back and stomach and vagina hurts for days after, I still bled after each time and always felt nauseous after for days. My vagina gets so inflamed that it hurts to pee until the next day each time.  I should've never had to go through any of that, it’s not normal, but it’s just mostly result of trauma combined with my body NOT being comfortable enough to let go like that and knowing this is a wrong situation. My body was literally screaming at me to stop doing this and I never listened...I was so lost

Honestly, I didn't know better, I didn’t have experience and obviously liking you and the intimacy I could have with you, I was blind and normalized all this, when in fact it wasn’t normal...at all. I would think “maybe this is just how sex is” (it shouldn't be) and I would get through it and want to have that experience and connection with you again because it just felt good to be in that moment, but the sex itself never felt good for me, it was really just about getting to do it with you that’s what was hot. After coming to my senses and looking back, I realized I really just was subconsciously after intimacy and feeling wanted rather than that rough sex, I was just seeking it in the wrong place...

It sucks hearing about how sex feels great and all that but I'm just stuck in “it just hurts - what’s the point of it?” it’s shitty when I hear friends talk about how good it can be, and I just get sad when I think about it... (similar to after first time). It’s one of the shittiest feelings, because I'm a REALLY sexual and horny person, if you had ever gotten me to be comfortable enough around you over time, I'd be a FREAK lol (but we were never together like that and I would just hold back cuz I didn't feel like I could let go at all)

For me to just sit there and keep associating sex with pain/discomfort is just really fucking sad and I know it shouldn't be that way and that makes me shut down, same exact feelings I had after first time. If this situation involved you not having a girlfriend and sneaking and me being able to not feel as wrong and actually be totally comfortable with you, it’d be different. I would feel like I could talk to you about it more and go more slowly at it until I got to that point where it could be rough and all that. But everything about the situation was wrong in every sense and again, you weren't there to just “take things slow” you were trying to fuck lol and I just...let it happen, regrettably. Again, MY CHOICE. That’s the worst part. Also me and you have completely different views of sex and what it means and I always looked past that and tried to go against my instincts because again, my attachment to you.

I think if you build that comfort and care with someone the kinky/rough whatever sex.. it could be amazing...but this situation wasn’t right for me from the gecko. It lacked that true emotional connection I needed and deserved because DUH YOU HAVE A FUCKING GF LOL.  My lack of experience and being so tight, shouldn't have always just jumped into it...NOT what my body needed. Mentally I thought it’s all “hot” and allowed it for the reasons I mentioned, but deep down I just wanted something passionate and kept lying to myself without even thinking about it. In reality, what I needed as a virgin was a few first times of slower, gentle sex until I was READY for the more intense and I wouldn’t have gone through all the horrible shit I went through. But again, I went to the wrong source; that kind of sex would come from a loving boyfriend who cared about me, versus you were in it for a side hookup and NOT responsible for any of that. I know you weren't coming over for some “loving sex” lol... we not like that and like you said before if you wanted that you had ur gf so I never thought to speak up about what I really wanted and just continued... I’m highly disturbed at how I accepted so much less than I deserved because I lacked self love and confidence and I didn’t think I deserved better...I would shut myself down, lie to myself and let you do your way because whatever it was hot in my la la land fucked up fantasy world.

If I had waited for someone that was actually into me and dedicated to me, and I was comfortable and let them explore my body in every way until they fully learned my kinks and the COMMUNICATION was there, I know I could be having amazing sex after a few times, but it was MY choice to continue in this situation and not speak up and it RUINED sex for me and its a choice I will always have to live with as I heal. 

Think about it, all I know about sex now is that it hurts, there’s no comfort after and I'm always left alone. I regret these choices I made but I can’t escape my own thoughts and have to live with it and just grow from the experience. It’s a dead end even if I kept being in this situation with you because it’s like drinking a slow poison. I just have to focus on me and heal from all this and just have to wait for the right guy to come along that loves me genuinely and makes me feel at ease, I think that’s when I will really enjoy sex and see my full potential. It’s a sad and lonely road but that’s how its gonna have to be which really sucks. 

I just needed to spill everything because I am constantly haunted by all these thoughts and trapped in my head and I just can’t do it anymore. I’m saying all this not so you feel bad but so that you know some more background as I don’t usually speak up and obviously you can’t read minds lol so you should know what’s up, and also so that in the future if you think about asking to fuck again that you just don’t, I don’t want you to tell me like before “you’re rejecting me”.. cuz I’m not. I just know if I do this again with you, its just going to feel wrong (for all the reasons I mentioned, including the BIG ONE - being a side piece to someone with a gf).. i’m not going to be comfortable and it’s going to further damage me and delay the healing process. I can't keep sabotaging myself like this...For once I have to do the right thing and I cant keep putting myself in this toxic cycle and situation when it doesn’t benefit me in any way and in fact has destroyed me in the long run. I have to take care of myself and focus on myself and be a better person really, I can eat well and go to the gym every day but what I really have to work on is loving myself and my self worth and KNOW how I deserve such good things and hopefully one day, I will find happiness.

At the end of the day, you're literally the first person I ever gave myself away to like that and as much as I wish it didn’t happen, and I have been upset with you a lot before, really, I am not mad at you or anything because it was always my own choice to partake in a situation I knew was wrong. But life goes on and we get stronger. So I always have and will care about you as a person despite everything I went through and like we said before, we’re still homies/have each other’s back at work type thing, but I hope you can understand where I'm coming from and how I have to finally be better to myself and love that amazing soul that I have (even if you may not see it, I know other people do and the right guy one day will once I let myself be loved by the right person). 

As much as I’ve been lying to myself, I need to feel loved and cared for to really let go/enjoy sex like that, otherwise its gonna keep feeling wrong

Like when you asked if I liked cuddling ..that’s all I want with someone is that closeness but I’m always afraid w you cuz we’re not together like that so I’ve always had to be in the mindset to “detach” and that’s always gone against my emotional nature

And when you said “it doesn’t bother you that I have a gf” no… it always bothered me but I was always too attached and threw that in the back burner and hid most vulnerable feelings from u

Like you said last time “I deserve having someone there for me after the sex for the lovey dovey crap”

If we both single, might be different I wouldn’t feel wrong about the situation and unworthy/ would be at ease with you and cum, but it has always felt wrong with you having a gf 

I can’t do the emotional roller coasters anymore, was finding myself missing someone who I’m always a second option to,  nah dude, it’s so toxic in long run

I enjoy spending time w/you but then you leave and I always felt more alone and empty than ever

Just need to do the right thing even when its hard; you stick to only fucking jamie like she deserves and I just continue on my own and learn to love myself/heal until I meet the right guy one day who is all about me and makes me feel loved

I want a relationship along with that intimacy and to be able to do other things with them, and that was something I could never get from you so can’t keep torturing myself and delaying healing process 

I know this doesn’t change much for you, you fall back into comfort of ur relationship

For me I been trying to just start taking care of myself and feeling low, eating better going to gym and crying until the pain resolves one day

Otherwise nothing changes for me in our dynamic, exactly like we talked about last time - we still homies. Obvs I care about you and think of you, and u can come to me about anything/always here for you and all that.

[redefinethegrind]

Borderline Personality Disorder, The Will To Power, Spirituality, and Happiness: tying it all together

I am writing this manuscript on Borderline Personality Disorder because I want to connect to others with the same diagnosis. I am a provider with the diagnosis and I have an intimate understanding of what my brain goes through on a day to day basis. It is fascinating to me that something as simple as going to the gas station and buying a coffee could cause so much anxiety and grief. It has, however tied me up. I have spent hours trying to gather the courage to understand the perfect way to obtain a cup of coffee and it has impacted the flow of more than one of my days on this earth. That is ridiculous, but seemingly unavoidable to me when my anxiety, obsessive thought, splitting, and mood imbalances all hit at once.

My perception of self has never equaled the perception that others tell me that they see. People around me assure me that I am funny, charismatic, outgoing, caring, and a good person. In my head I often feel that I am disgusting, pathetic, weak, and a loser. I feel like a parasite sometimes while I fully strive to be a giving human being. That is the faulty wiring of my brain that I adopted sometime in early childhood. I have formed my personality around hating myself and feeling like I am never good enough. I don’t even know what I am trying to measure up to.

Formerly I thought that feeling never good enough was a positive thing for me. I thought it would push me to achieve more as I rose in life. I wanted to be the greatest human being in the world and I hated myself for not being that person already. I set an unreasonably high bar and laughed at myself when I failed to achieve success. If I failed at any task I would use it as evidence that I was indeed the failure I had come to know. If I succeeded I would write it off as something that should have been done better or more efficiently. It was unreasonable and counterproductive to my being to have those thoughts, but I could not make them go away.

I began seeking solace in material possessions at some point in my life. I was buying expensive cars and bigger homes. The material things would distract me from my inner conflict and pain. Ultimately, I realized that material possessions can never fill the void that I was feeling. Human connection is the only thing that can satiate that craving. I am indeed a human being. BPD has made me truly feel alien at times though and unable to connect with others. That is a fallacious thought and I now recognize it as such.

I have had days where I look around and everything seems foreign to me. During periods of stress and duress I would swear that people’s faces change and even the colors of my surroundings change. My inner voice takes on a different tone. My perception of the world warps with my mood. I feel it intensely and deeply. I am not making it up or crying for attention as I was led to believe as a child. My world genuinely changes based on my mood and faculties. That very subjective nature of my own reality makes this personality disorder difficult to pin down and properly treat regardless of the time and energy I dedicate.

This had led me to studying the very nature of consciousness and reality. I have read books by Jeffrey Schwartz and Caroline Leaf on neuroplasticity. I have studied quantum mechanics, relativity, anatomy, physiology, and psychology seeking concrete reasons for my sensation and perception. I became familiar with Deepak Chopra’s views on tying quantum mechanics to our consciousness. I started to see that I was not alone in viewing this reality as a very mailable and ever-changing substrate. I saw that humanities greatest minds were struggling with the same questions and looking on with both awe and frustration.

I wanted nothing more than to understand what my perception of consciousness, space, and time, truly boiled down to and to share my experience with other human beings. The kinds of thoughts I have are not typically talked about over morning coffee or the evening’s spaghetti. My thoughts are sometime uniquely Ernie ‘isms and I must accept that. Having BPD makes me immediately feel lonely though as I struggle to connect with others on concepts and ideas. I am well adapted at helping others in my professional life because I have an outlined task at hand and an end goal. I actually think my personality disorder makes me a better provider in some ways because knowing the type of person I am, I do not pass judgement. I am able to relate to others and feel empathy. Because my emotions are felt so extremely I am able to understand the emotions of others.

One maladaptive behavior I have taken to over the years is stifling my emotions completely on the surface. I have found myself to be suppressing the expression of my emotions to the point of operating in a robot-like fashion. I remember actually consciously choosing this process as a young child, as young as 5 years old maybe. I chose to suffocate emotions of anger and to sit in a hallway for hours on end one day. As I remember it I was at a relative’s house I did not want to be at and instead of participating in any social activities I sat in a hallway staring at the wall. Even at that young age I would sometimes skip breakfast and lunch as to isolate intentionally and not participate in normal activities. This went from a conscious decision as an early child to a subconscious reaction as an adult. Where the switch happened I don’t know, but now I catch myself avoiding social situations, meals, or performing simple daily tasks without having ever thought about it. It will be something that another person will point out. “Aren’t you hungry?” and I will think “Hmm, I don’t know, let me think about it… I guess I am hungry, I didn’t eat lunch.” Sometimes I will find a reason. It is like I throw a subconscious temper tantrum. I don’t even recognize myself doing it at this point and I wish I could control it. I am now monitoring my mood and looking for cues in order to correct the maladaptive behavior. This is strange as I am 33 years old.

I recall an experience in preschool when I was asked to sit in time out for coming at another kid with a plastic chainsaw. I took my time out of two minutes as I remember it, without fuss, then I would not get up on time in. I refused to get up for the rest of the day in fact. I made the punishment intentionally extreme as a choice. I remember choosing to not stand up as an act of self-disparaging rebellion. I remember thinking “I can sit here all day in time out just to show these people it doesn’t bother me.” As an adult I evaluate the behavior. I am thinking it was a way for me to say “I can’t be broken by your punishment.” I took a strong nihilist stance early on. Rules were ridiculous to me and whether or not I was supposed to suffer I would refuse to. I think I was trying to show them that punishment would be useless. They could not change me. They could not break me. I was in charge. I think I needed to feel in control. I believe it was overcompensation for a life that was truly out of my control. That is the best theory I can put together as an adult.

This sense of loss of control and my struggle to maintain a sense of it went on to define many aspects of my personality. Perhaps I was wanting that preschool teacher to look at me and say, “enough is enough, you don’t deserve to be punished” and to look at the ridiculous idea of changing another sentient being’s social behavior. I never understood why someone else could make rules or boundaries that I had to abide by. I think even as a young child I found them to be repulsive and insulting… arbitrary at best.

Was this manipulation? Was I truly engaging in a mind game with an adult at such a young age? In my mind the internal voice kept telling me to sit at that table in time out. To just wait it out. To see what happens. Who would break first? Not Ernie. That is what I did. It was a small event that essentially meant nothing, but in my mind, I can still relive it and feel the same emotions I felt then. I needed to show these people that though they could physically put me in restraints, it didn’t change a damn thing.

As an adult I saw the same behavior in a woman I call my twin. She seems to have many of the same thought processes and beliefs that I do. She struggles with boundaries and guidelines. She finds life to be mundane at best most days. She wonders why in the hell someone with so much mental energy has to be caged in such a dull environment. I stood in her way during a minor mincing of words we were having. I blocked her path to exit our shared kitchen. I could see her anger building. She was absolutely not going to give me a single answer at that time no matter how much I demanded it. She was appalled that I could stand in her way and physically overpower her. Though I could block her way, I could not get her to speak a single word. I could not break her. She was in control. She struggled and longed to have the ultimate sense of control. She could be physically restrained but even her living twin, the person she connects with deepest on this planet, was not going to be able to pull a single utterance from her conscious mind if she didn’t will it so. She had to win.

I saw myself in her that day. I saw an absolutely unbreakable spirit. What twinsie and I share is beyond physical, sexual, or psychological. It is deep and I cannot label it. I have never seen it in two other people. It is uniquely ours to share. We have something that the rest of this world could only dream of. I am the one person that she will ultimately break down for in this world and I am proud to be the one person that will break down for her. To take away those secure walls and expose our vibrant inner beauty. I love seeing her stand true and proud, a defiant lotus that the rest of this world doesn’t have access to. I am actually driven by being the one person that she lets in to her secretive world. That is how I define true love. I will absolutely break down and give up my sense of security and become vulnerable to share the ultimate connection with my true twin flame. I feel as though I long to both break through her every wall and to allow her to simultaneously break through every one of mine.

That is something I was seeking in this life and BPD was limiting me from sharing. A connection. The world felt alien. Until I felt someone with the same splitting, angst, core values, and pain I didn’t think I would ever find someone who would understand me. That feeling of loneliness was overwhelming and was defining my life. It left me standing alone in a crowded room.

Back to childhood, I look to an incident on the school yard. I was dangling from the monkey bars. I remember kicking my friend directly in the testicles intentionally while playing “chicken.” In my mind I knew exactly what I was doing, and I intended to kick him in the most painful area possible to drop him from that collection of steel. I was a child, I don’t know why I wanted to hurt him, but my thought was “I need to hurt this person right now.” I am still friends with him today, his name is Josh. We went on to discuss spiritual matters as adults. That day on the school yard I brought my leg forth and connected as intended right in his groin. I then remember the teacher coming to me and telling the other children that it was an accident. I bought into her story and lied about my intentions. I claimed I did it on accident. I took the teachers story and went with it. I saw that I could get away with murder. I saw that given the right social performance I could do anything and spin it as something it wasn’t.

Unfortunately, that ‘social performance’ aspect became central to my childhood. I felt like an actor much of the time. I was playing a role to get the results I wanted from every given situation. I never let even my family know the real me. I only opened up to a few core friends, and even then, I never fully opened up and showed my real core. I felt vulnerable if people were able to figure me out, so I always acted. I would pretend to be engaged in some boring TV show just to throw people off of understanding my true interests. It was like I knew I was surrounded by people that I really didn’t want to connect with so I would connect with them on things I didn’t care about so that I could then have false relationships with them. By maintaining the superficial relationship, I was in control. If I ever felt comfortable enough I would break down the superficial connection and allow a true, deep connection to exist. I can count on one hand the number of people I have ever started that process with. The people I would feel comfortable truly connecting with were special and I would show them my true vulnerabilities and interests in music, art, video games, and science on my own terms. To give them some sense of control in getting to know me was my ultimate way of letting them know that I truly loved them.

I don’t know why I complicated my social interactions so much, but I did. It was elaborate and took a lot of my thought process. It continues to do so and I do it now without conscious thought or effort. The truth is, I am able to ‘bond’ with anyone on just about anything because I have become a chameleon at blending in when needed. I can fake being interested in just about anything when needed and people automatically see me as their friend. The truth is, deep down I have not connected and with most of those people I share surface level connection I do not wish to have anything deeper. I do not wish to let them in. I genuinely have come to love all people and I actually enjoy getting to know them, but initially that wasn’t the case. Early on I simply played a role and felt completely detached emotionally from almost everyone I came into contact with. I now get my sense of well-being from being able to keep everyone calm and genuinely liking me. I don’t know why, but my personality has developed in that fashion. It seems that if someone has a problem with me I genuinely internalize it and let it gnaw at my gut deep down. On the surface, however, I have made a habit of acting completely unphased by anything no matter how harsh. It is like I feel one thing and exhibit another on the surface. My personality is complex and maybe even inappropriate.

I knew at some point my truth was my own truth. I could easily manipulate reality one way or another even as a child. I found myself in deep thought over emotions and relationships. If something was not going my way as a child I would do something like go out of my way to put myself in an obviously vulnerable position in order to gain some leverage in the form of getting an adults attention and therefor gain control over my environment when the adult found me to be in a precarious situation and would come to my rescue whether it be mentally or physically. I could use my projection of deep sadness to get adults to feel sorry for me. I could use a projection of being excited about something that everyone else found repulsive as a way to get people to back out of my personal space and think I was weird. I was in control. I was letting people in who I loved and pushing people away who I didn’t. I was learning more about those people while they learned nothing about me. It was a guaranteed safe place.

I now see my eccentric likes and dislikes as an elaborate filtering mechanism. I would put up a wall of weirdness and if someone actually tolerated getting through all of the weird parts of Ernie they had earned the right to get to know the true Ernie. They could get through and see that I am indeed a loving, caring, compassionate, gentle, altruistic human being. But first they had to wade through a sea of dead baby jokes, menstrual blood tinged cottage cheese and conspiracy theories that Ernie also finds amusing.

The good energy that makes me up is also capable of appreciating the dark side of life and finding it amusing. It is important to me that my true friends see that and know that all in all I am a good person but that I can laugh and muse at the darkness. That having no boundaries and no limits is simply my way of being truly open to experiencing every aspect of life. That being able to test my power one day doesn’t mean I want to be in control, because the very next day I might test my vulnerability. I want to experience life to it’s fullest and most extreme. I am wired that way. I want to feel fully in control while knowing fully well that ultimately I am powerless.

Looking back, it seems like a child’s cry for attention. As an adult I think that sense of control over emotional relationships gave me comfort in a way. I was more comfortable knowing that I was leading the adults on and letting them think I was a certain person when in my mind I was not that guy. I am trying to honestly explore that feeling and to see if I am indeed driven by the want to control and manipulate or if this is truly involuntary… or at least to explore what it is like living in a mind with BPD

In my first marriage I connected fairly quickly with a quiet girl who had a somewhat bumpy past. Growing up she was also left to fend for herself at times, at least that is what I gathered from the stories she told me. I connected with this girl and we spent much time together. We learned each other’s personalities, likes, and dislikes. I was not always honest in the beginning. I would, for example, say I didn’t like sea food when in reality I loved eating fish. I would choose to not like it because she didn’t like it. I would lie to connect with her. That went on for the first few months of our young relationship. I was 17 years old when I met this girl. I was still figuring out who I was, and I was forming it with another person around a process of manipulating in the context of borderline personality disorder.

The relationship had ups and downs, but early on I was the first to say “I Love You.” I was the first to make the extreme moves and then use my brain to fill in the rest later, trying to logically connect the dots. I saw this girl in a hallway in high-school and my first thoughts were “could you ever marry her, would you be with her forever, would she be the love of your life?” I immediately began planning to go all in with her after we first agreed that we were dating. I escalated things quickly and vowed to spend eternity with her because she gave me the time of day. Most people don’t think like that. I did. I was all in day one. I also at the same time felt like I would destroy her life by letting her get with such a loser like me. I wanted to love her and to save her by pushing her far away from me. The selfish part of me needed her, the selfless part of me needed her to be free.

I started off spending my every waking moment obsessing about this girl and ultimately did go on to marry her, but in the process, something strange happened as I did not understand my brain at the time. I would get comfortable with her and things would be going well, and I would assume that I was not doing enough or good enough for her. I would then create tension and angst in the relationship and pressure her away from me. I would push and push. Because I was not perfect. I would always assume that there was some flaw or fault in myself that just wasn’t good enough and I would use it against us. I would tell her time and time again that I was not good enough for her and that I was a pile of garbage and that she could do better. That was my depression seeping in and it was not a valid thought. The example that I read from a person with BPD that really stuck with me is this: “I could see a person begging for money. If I didn’t give them money I would kick myself for being selfish. If I did give them money I would kick myself for not giving enough.” It was like no matter what I gave it was never enough. I was wired to believe that my all out best effort was going to fall short and therefor I was doomed to be a piece of trash.

The pattern of constantly self-loathing and memorizing disparaging remarks created emotional turmoil and I would then push my partner away and reel her back in. This happened over and over again. It was exhausting. It resulted in significant damage. My personality was unstable enough that she never knew what she was going to get. She spent her time going out of her way to keep me from going insane and I constantly tested boundaries. What would she truly tolerate? Did she love me enough to put up with this? Unfortunately, this also enabled the borderline behavior to exacerbate. It went from something that I was doing at age 5 as an experiment to something that I couldn’t control as an adult. My emotions had become out of my control and they were being used to shape relationships in my life. It was chaotic and seemed a bit peculiar when compared with the way other people seemed to feel.

I have often felt alien and alone in this world. I felt that other people could not possibly feel so disconnected to their fellow man while fully knowing that they are indeed human themselves. Now reading the literature, I am encouraged that many people feel just like me. Alien. Robotic. Foreign. They have unknowingly programmed themselves to inappropriately use emotions to influence relationships as some sort of response to stress. The problem with BPD is, by the time it is active and roaring, it is too late to look back. It becomes the norm. The ego is established and without a great deal of introspection, guilt, pain, and rethatching, identifying these things as maladaptive can seem undefeatable. As a young adult I lost control of my emotions quite a bit and I was a bit all over the place. I didn’t recognize why, or even see it as a problem. It was just me. I would have outbursts of anger at others, at myself, at friends, and at family. Relationships would seem to be crashing to me when others had no clue what I was even focusing on. I would sometimes just stay quiet and disappear. I remember that was my way of quitting bands or quitting jobs… I would simply stop showing up, stop answering phonecalls, and just cease to exist. I would back out of relationships rather than face the conflict of admitting that perhaps it was time that I moved on.

I didn’t want to face the conflict in person, eye to eye. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I truly wanted to give my all to make everyone happy, but at the same time, a part of me was dying inside by continuing to be fake. I felt like an actor. I felt like I couldn’t simply stand up sometimes and say “this music we are making isn’t what I want to make” and walk away. I wanted to be in control of the writing and creative process but instead I would remain silent in the background playing drums and flexing to keep others happy. All the while, my unhappiness was boiling over and being exhibited through my avatar (as I have come to call my body) in silence and palpable disconnection. Where other people wanted to make music to make crowds of people think they were cool, I wanted to make music that connected spiritually with myself. Sometimes my peers would view me as a weird guy just wanting to make weird music for the sake of being different, a cry for attention perhaps. That wasn’t the case. I wanted to write the kind of music that truly expressed how I was feeling.

I wanted to the go on to perform that music on my own terms in my own way for others to either appreciate or reject. I longed to connect to others through that music, but if they couldn’t appreciate it that was okay too. I felt disconnected from my bandmates who simply wanted to perform a couple of cover songs for a room full of drunks. I was not there to entertain, I was there to teach and experience. That is what interested me and ultimately why I wanted to quit every band I was ever in. I have not been able to find another person who feels the same way, of wanting to create something that we can all connect on at a visceral level.

I would give my all to writing and performing drum and vocal parts for some of the bands I was in over the years. I would try to contribute my musings through ironic lyrics and nuanced drum fills. All the while I felt underappreciated. I felt like I was just a guy who was there to fill in where any drummer could just sit in. I felt that my views on the world and lyrics weren’t taken seriously, as much as they were written in satire, that is the seriousness that I intended. To satirically point out the ridiculous nature of heavy metal’s backbone which is isolating and pushing people away more and more as they seek the next “legit” band and scoff at “posers.” I wanted to bring these people together and give them a sense of “maybe we’re all in the same boat and we should just have a good time” rather than worrying about how freaking gay breakdowns and hardcore dancing was.

I lost music somewhere along the way because I could never find like-minded people to play it with. I wanted to simply connect. I wanted to make music for the sake of music, connection, love, solidarity, and to express our feelings with the human experience. I didn’t want to replicate what other people were already doing. I didn’t want to entertain a room full of people on a Friday night. I didn’t want a free bar tab or a backstage pass. I didn’t want paid for a single gig. I just wanted to see who else was feeling what I was feeling. I still want that, but I don’t know where to look.

Moving on, ultimately, I went on to end my first marriage and I had reasoned that there was just too much damage done and that there was no way to mend from the amount of times I had pushed and pulled this girl. I also had begun falling in love with another girl who happened to share many personality traits with me: the aforementioned twinsie. I finally felt that deep connection with another human being that I had been seeking for so long, and it was on the tail end of me trying to come to the conclusion that I was in fact not human refuse.

That connection that I mention is a key part of my personality. It is central to my sense of well-being that I be understood, appreciated, and loved by someone else. I never recognized that before. I was so caught up in self-loathing that I honestly believed that I was not worth loving. I have read that this is common in those with BPD. A sense of being the one person that cannot be loved, appreciated, respected, or connected with has become central to many of us. We have developed maladaptive personalities as a response to absurd stimuli in the setting of distinctive genetics.

Western society has us filing through as caged animals. We are in fact mammals. We are designed by nature to eat, sleep, reproduce, and dominate. We have done a good job of dominating our environment. We are now at the top of the food chain on this planet, Earth. We human-beings are the apex predators and because of that we sometimes lose touch with our true inner animal. It is like the alcoholic who is 10 years sober who has that one drink, he is suddenly rushed back in to that cycle of drinking. Day after day and starting over at square one.

Human beings are complex social creatures. We thrive in settings of love. True love and empathy are the only ingredients necessary to produce positive results. We must love our children and nurture them. We must find ways to break down their walls and get through to them and let them know that we truly love them no matter what. That is the only ingredient needed for a successful life. Love. We must support them and bear with them as they learn this process of living.

I now realize that I am a valuable human being and that I do deserve to be loved. Unfortunately, it took me a very long time to realize this. It seems so simple, and on the surface, it is. But even with all of the logic in the world, my emotions would never allow me to love myself. I could have come in with this first, but it may have poisoned my understanding of life. I may have not gained the knowledge and insight that I have had I not suffered.

The worst decision I could have made in my life was to begin using chemicals to “shut my brain off” as I always called it. I began drinking heavily or taking sleeping pills to just go to sleep at the end of the day. The constant struggle of never feeling good enough or worth living. Studies clearly show the prevalence of alcohol and drug abuse with BPD. For me it was the option to turn off the torture generator in my head to drink enough alcohol to sleep. I wasn’t doing this to destroy my marriage, my career, or to hurt anyone. Ultimately it did cause a lot of strain and did cause stress on the things I valued. I didn’t choose alcohol over life, I chose shutting off painful thoughts over suicide. I was just wanting an off switch from the reality that I was interpreting as so painful. People don’t realize that. I feel sorry that people view it as a personal attack when I say reality hurts. I don’t mean it that way. I also don’t mean to ask for their sympathy. I simply want to live and let live. I will get by, I am strong, I have faith in me and I want others to have the same.

I was able to stop drinking alcohol and focus on myself early in 2018. But at that time, I was not really even thinking about the BPD, I was more focused on depression or bipolar disorder. I stopped drinking and started really focusing on myself through exercise and diet. I wasn’t aware of how my personality disorder played into my mood disorder. It was a chaotic dance of sorts. There were nuances of mania and depression rearing their heads with this an almost flat affect I had developed. I found everything in life to be absurd and treated life as though I were a stand-up comedian just musing on my observations. I kept a straight face. Only the most extreme things could cause me to truly laugh. I somehow inappropriately (or maybe appropriately, this is subjective) attached laughter with absurdity.

I was able to see the humor in everything. There was absolutely nothing off limits. My extreme personality allowed me to explore extreme topics. I had watched clips of people being hurt and killed and essentially found the ridiculousness of it all to allow me to laugh. My brain had seemingly wired a circuit to find absurdity funny, so I could escape the true pain that it was causing me. We see people get kicked in the scrotum on MTV all day and laugh at it, this is a light version of what I am describing. Having access to all things human via the internet I desensitized myself to the most extreme of human behaviors. I have seen video footage of a man being beaten to death with a hammer. I have seen a chainsaw beheading video. Even worse, I have heard a chainsaw beheading video.

When I honestly put myself in that man’s shoes whose lifeless body is gurgling for wind from some prehistoric reflex I feel the pain of the human condition. I am able to know that I am mortal. I will die. I will cease to exist in the form of Ernie one day. I have been face-to-face with death as a young child raised by elderly distant relatives, and I have watched other human beings take their last breath as a hospice nurse. I have hunted deer and geese. I have taken the life from a dove and consumed her flesh. It is a chaotic balance of energy that I have been a part of in this very real chain of events.

The will to power, the longing to be in control takes a darker turn at times. So for me to make the decision to take another sentient being’s life in order to eat, I now must question what that truly means. As a 33-year-old white male in America I am surrounded by meat and cheese. Lives lost for the sake of contributing energy back into the circle of life. It all comes back to me and I can feel so clearly the morning I first took the life of a white-tailed deer.

I was camped out in my tree stand. I was dressed like a redneck in camo and I had hiked into some fall scenery right out of a Mark Twain novel. I was sitting silently and waiting for motion. When I finally heard the crushing of leaves my heart began to race. This is it. This is the moment I have been waiting for. To kill this sentient being. The hunt was on.

I saw two does playfully wondering through a sparse patch of thin trunked trees. The leaves were golden and red. They were almost dancing with one another. They hadn’t noticed me but I watched them come into my field of vision. I moved and one of the does looked up. She made eye contact with me. Her tail flipped up. White flag! She was ready to run. She was afraid. I drew my bow and let loose an arrow into the distance.

There was a calamity of hooves and cracking leaves. My heart was racing and there was sweat on my brow. I could smell autumn. I was one with the nature scene I had very realistically painted myself into. I rushed down from my latter clumsier than I would like to admit and began taking large gallop-like steps toward a creek bed. I could see a faint trail of blood on the ground guiding me to where this injured creature must be. It was like I looked up and there she was. Right in front of me. I was on top of her and didn’t even see her. She appeared out of nowhere.

She was lying in a shallow creek bed making labored breaths. Begging mother nature for her life. I pulled my 9mm side arm from my waist and did what I thought was the right thing at the time. I mercifully killed her by shooting her in the head. To end her suffering. My adrenaline was coursing through my body and I could not imagine what my next move was. I picked up the lifeless doe that was once dancing with her friend and threw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I carried her out of the woods like a “real man” and disrespectfully threw her body in the back of my hatch back ford focus. Her eyes were glazed over and her tongue fell out the right side of her mouth.

I brought her to my home and removed her skin. I hung her from her hind legs in my shed with some bailing twine that was laying around and I opened YouTube videos on how to butcher a deer. I called my friend Gabe to see if he had a knife, he was too drunk to help me dress my kill.

I began hacking parts off of this majestic creature’s body with an axe and a dull kitchen knife. I had already purchased butchers paper and I broke down the meat the best I could with the guidance of Youtube. I turned on a death metal album by Cannibal Corpse to get me in a disgusting mindset as I butchered away. I needed the distraction in order to complete the job. My now ex-wife came home to find blood on the back porch and door knob and she knew “Ernie got a deer.” What the fuck does it even mean? I got one.

We went on to incorporate this fresh meat into our cooking for the rest of that year and I even tried to consume the organ meats with Gabe as to not waste any of the animal. Looking back it seems so barbaric and out of character for me. I don’t think I could ever pull the trigger again or let another arrow fly. The sanctity of life is not something that I wish to choose when it shall end. All life is sacred in This consciousness. That is what I have come to appreciate. I know others struggle with it and take it lightly, but I have intimately been there. I have danced with death and I know every callus lunge.

To me, now, the thought of being able to obtain a permit to hunt and end a life is absurd.  Of course, creatures need to eat. But I am looking at this planet as a whole. How can human beings simply choose what life is sacred and what life is not? We fish the oceans dry. Why must we consume those things with sentience in order to survive? I don’t believe it is necessary at this point. That seems a bit misguided to me to think that it is entirely just sack after sack of matter and therefore vitamins and nutrients. Sure, I have stomped out an ant hill, I have crushed a fly. But what gives me that right? I believe as a human being we are blessed and cursed to know that life is finite. I do not wish to be a god amongst plebeians.

Knowing that my true moral code is to love all life and to appreciate it and hold it in high regard is paramount to my existence. I can then, unfortunately, explore the very opposite of this notion. That life is not sacred. That this existence is pointless and meaningless. That we are simply chemical reactions. The view of materialists is that we are a complex series of reactions. While I don’t believe this to be accurate, I have had my brain chemistry altered to the point that I almost believed it.

I had a short stent of taking the drug Abilify for an episode of mania and panic. I was started on this in-patient and continued it for about a week after hospitalization. Honestly, within a few days of being on the drug I felt no emotional attachment to my wife of so many years. I also believe, however, my true emotional attachment to her had waxed and waned over the previous years as my personality disorder pushed and pulled my life. While on Abilify I was able to make cold and rigid decisions without any emotional repercussions. I truly feel I could have strangled somebody to death and not felt any remorse on that medication. Is it simply the neurotransmitters in our brains that regulate our sense of right and wrong or are we tuning into something greater like a collective consciousness?

Through the years professionally and personally I have chronically had angst about my performance or accomplishments. I would always immediately downplay my performance and know that I could do better. Until I drastically modified my lifestyle and stopped drinking alcohol I was headed toward self-destruction. Having our neurotransmitters out of balance is like tuning a piano with an out of tune reference. I don’t know how to better describe it. It is like interpreting the world through a faulty interpretation device. Nature provides us the tools to perfectly balance and calibrate our interpretation device if we are willing to take the time and effort.

In this eastern society it does take time and effort to calibrate your device. In the wild it would not. You would not worry about being depressed or manic in the wild for a number of reasons. The cycle would have simply played out as it should. In our artificial reality that we have constructed with these cities and roadways, we have to take the time to get back to nature if we want balance. We need to re-calibrate our brains. We need to balance our neurotransmitters.

Our neuro-endocrine systems naturally produce everything we need if they are functioning properly. In order to function properly they need the correct environment. Our biology is specifically fine-tuned to allow us to thrive in whatever given setting we happen to arise from. We are at a point in which we are modifying our environment faster than evolution can catch up with and thus we have the central disconnected feeling that comes out as angst and turmoil. Identifying this and utilizing our strengths to fit into our own lives on an individual level is the prescribed treatment. There is no one size fits all plan.

Neuro-endocrinology functions optimally when given appropriate ingredients and in human beings those ingredients can be obtained from plant sources, water, and of course love. In order to best fuel our bodies optimally we should be eating a vegan diet which is free of processed foods, hormones, antibiotics, and suffering. When we eat food, we are eating the building blocks of our body and mind. Food is information essentially. What we take in builds what we are. This is important. The fuel we run on is central to our functioning at our best.

Looking at myself now, I am obsessed with telling the truth and being accurate. I want to live a life that I am proud of and therefor hold no secrets. I want to connect with another human being on an intimate level in which I tell her no lies. I want to be as open and forth coming as possible. The ultimate vulnerability. The payoff, is the ultimate relationship. It is important that we all begin to shift our culture to a culture of openness. We should be proud of who we are. We should be able to express our deepest desires and interests freely.

If we have something to hide, it is likely leading to negative karma. This is how I weigh my karma. When I do something I ask myself, “Is this something you would feel proud to tell everyone in this world?” If it is not, there is a better option. It is important as a species as we continue to evolve spiritually and emotionally that we understand this internal compass and respect it. We need to always bend to the will of the internal compass and listen to it in order to have the most fulfilling lives. If your gut tells you not to do something, you seriously need to stop and reconsider that decision. Take time. Make the right choice. To truly work through this process is grueling but it will lead to the ultimate transcendence.

The ultimate will to power is to give up complete control. Give your life over to the laws of the universe. To love without questioning “what is in it for me?” to give without wondering “do they appreciate it?” to teach others to better themselves and stop judging them for what they aren’t. Start seeing human beings for their potential. To push forth and get every bit of positivity out of our fellow-man’s soul. To not wonder “how am I going to get by” and just wonder “how can I help someone else get by.”

That is what I am striving for. I will post this long post for free, relatively unedited, though it feels like it should probably be in some sort of BPD and spirituality book or something. I know that in my life the Universe will provide for me food, shelter, wisdom, and love if I stay on the right path. I have that faith. I am following it with open mind, open heart, and open soul.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles Towers’. || 17

Hope you’re wearing your best clothes.

Harry. 

When you die, your brain tends to shut down starting from the top, claiming the most human characteristics first. Then, as the wave of blood-starved brain cells spreads out, the memory and language centre shorts out, until you’re left with just a core.

They say it feels like you’re floating— maybe falling— before your life sort of flashes before your eyes, but not like how movies portray it. It doesn’t happen in chronological order.

You don’t relive your beginning, middle and end like a novel— no.

I don’t know how I can explain it, I don’t think I have the capability of it. At first, Elise’s face was branded into my thoughts; I heard her lovely voice calling my name— and then my whole universe was black. And it stayed black for quite a while. But it didn’t bother me, I liked it. It was peaceful and rejuvenating.

There wasn’t a pressure weighing down on me anymore, nothing devastating loomed over my head.

A sweet serenity.

My peacefulness ran out eventually,  and I began to experience what quite possibly were the best moments of my life, for the second time.

The first was Elise’s smile: glowing beautifully like a thousand songs, it brought light to my dead world. When I first saw her smile, my heart stopped, in the most wonderlust way possible. Her smile was radiant and captivating, of one like an angel. Now, her smile is like coming up for fresh air after drowning in a deadly tragedy, still beautifully captivating but more empowering. From there, all I observed were things I had enjoyed: blissful moments with my mother, sister, and Elise.

The times that seemed to brighten my vision and warm the feeling inside me weren’t the ones I’d expect to feel the most from. When I associate myself with dying, I expected it to be like taking my last breath and slipping away into a state of peacefulness. What I didn’t expect was to feel nothing yet everything all at once; pain, sorrow, happiness and regret.

I didn’t expect to feel the most happiness at the moment I did, it was not when I proposed, or my wedding, or the many years ago, when I first met Elise. No. It was the moment Elise told me she was pregnant, and the moment I heard the first heartbeat. Those two moments filled my heart with overflowing joy, bringing light into a darkened world. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were the only two moments I was put on this planet to live for.

We all have a purpose in life. Despite being fortunate enough to experience and achieve extraordinary circumstances, I never felt uniquely complete. Sure, I had my moments where I thought I was satisfied, but it was never full. There was always something missing. Like a puzzle with a piece askew, or mismatched socks. As I fell deeper in love with Elise, that feeling faded. But, it never fully diminished until she told me that she was pregnant. A few months earlier, if she had told me this, perhaps I would have flipped out a little bit, lost my self-control. Like I said before, I never thought I would be the one to settle down and have a family, I never thought I was capable of it. I never wanted to make my fathers mistakes, I never wanted to bring a child into the world without knowing for sure that I could give he or she the best possible life. Never.

When I said my vows to Elise— I meant them with every inch of my soul. I truly wanted to grow old with her, to experience our own great love story, even if we didn’t get to have it all. I just wanted to spend my life with her. You can strip me of everything: the fortune, the house and cars, materialistic things, my business, the art collection. Every. Single. Thing. The only thing I won’t give up is her. It sounds so cliche, but she really is all I need in this life. When she tells me she loves me, I have no doubt that anything could take me from her…

Up until now.

I’m not quite so sure where this world leaves us no, where it leaves me.

A voice I thought I would never hear again distracts me from the sound of my child’s heartbeat. Logan.

“You’re wearing your best clothes just for me, I’m honoured,” Logan smirks, as he comes into view wearing his standard business suit and white button-down combo.

I frown for a moment before I glance down and see I am wearing my signature black suit attire– complete with red tie.

I look back up at Logan, “Am I dead?”

Just a moment ago,  I was reminiscing the best parts of my life. Now, I am standing in front of my dead brother, and suddenly the serene feeling goes away.

Logan chuckles before he lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "well, mate, that depends on you.”

I raise a brow, a little bothered by his cryptic comment. The bloody man hasn’t changed a bit since leaving earth. Go figure. “It does?”

He nods, “indeed.”

I ponder this for a moment while I stare at my brother, cocking my head to the side.

I guess the question of the hour is how this depends on me?

I don’t say a word, just stand in silence, utterly confused. I can’t decide if I want to challenge Logan or just go with whatever he says. I have learned that questioning him never ends up well in my favour. It seems that while he was alive, all the answers to my questions were shameful.

“It’s sink or swim Harry, which is it?”

Logan’s voice permeates the silence and again I just gaze at him, “Harry, we don’t have all day, mate.”

I give him a shrug, I don't’ really know what the fuck I am meant to say, I can’t even tell if I am alive or not. I don’t think I am? I jus’… I don’t understand. I don’t think I want to understand.

I want my untroubled serenity back. I open my mouth to speak but close it again, grappling to figure out to express this. Is it sinking?

Logan sighs heavily as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at me; almost as if he knows what I’m thinking and disapproves. “Do you have the will to fight? I don’t think you do at all. I think you’re a coward who will take the easy way out.”

Ouch, that’s harsh. How dare he?

I shake my head, “That’s not true.”

Keeping my voice as low as possible as I utter those words. I don’t know who I was trying to convince more: Logan or myself.

“If it weren’t, we wouldn’t be here, Harry.”

His words feel like a knife to my heart. I can feel it slicing in half and my chest tightens. I can’t catch my breath. “And what the hell do you know?” I snarl.

“I know your love for Elise alone isn’t enough for you to fight anymore. You know she deserves better and you’re willing to give up.”

I nod my head, “She does deserve better. Much better.”

We all know she has always deserved better, I never was good enough for her. I could give her expensive jewellery and designer bags, but she isn’t a trophy wife. She deserves someone who will devote every moment to her and worship the ground she marches on. I did my best with doting on her hand and foot and loving her with everything I have, but all I have just isn’t enough. She warrants the world and I have only been able to give her half of it.

“But she wants you. She loves you more than anything.”

“That’s debatable,” I shrug. It’s the truth, it’s debatable on whether she loves me. I question her love purely because of how my business has put a strain on us. She supported me and our business, but I know she doesn’t want any part of it. I spent too much time on my business and not enough listening to her and considering her thoughts and emotions. I neglected her to raise an empire— an empire that although successful, failed me— an empire that has been the cause of my destruct and my current predicament.

How ironic, I have killed the best part of me.

“Coward.”

My body stiffens at the remark. “Shut up, Logan.” I abruptly raise my voice, attempting to defend myself even though I undividedly agree with him.

I am a fucking coward. Perhaps I am just like Dad— a coward.

Logan shakes his head at me, “you’re a coward who won’t fight.”

“Yes, I will,” I mutter, trying to convince myself that I have the will to actually fight for what I want. But, I still don’t really know what the fuck I want.

It’s hard sometimes, to decipher on what is right and wrong, just as it is hard to figure out what one truly wants and doesn’t want.

“So what are you doing here?”

My brows bump together in a scowl while my lips screw into irritation and exasperation,  “The fuck am I meant to know? I’m not fucking God, I don’t know everything.”

“Go back to your wife.”

I slump my shoulders in defeat, as bitterly poignant words leave my lips and pierce my heart, “she. doesn’t.  want. me.”

“She’s the mother of your children, she wants you. She put up with you for this long. Now go.” He strives to shoo me away but it doesn’t work. My feet stay planted where they are.

I inhale a deep breath and blow out gradually, buying time to discover words, “I change my mind, you’re right. I’m a coward. I can’t go back. She deserves better. Look what I have put her through. Dad has fucked me up.”

My — our— Father has done his damage with me, emotionally, mentally and now physically. He has caused havoc in my life from since I can remember. Even the most wonderful parts of my childhood, when he was a decent father, are still horrible times. His presence in any memory good or bad is shrilling. Even the good doesn’t outweigh the bad. No matter how hard I try to suppress the memories that creep up on me at my most vulnerable moment, I just can’t forget them.

“Your son needs you.You can’t use Dad as an excuse.”

I refuse to repeat my father’s mistakes of having children when I am not ready. I don’t want to raise children when I am not the best fit for them.

“He’s better off without me too. What father image do I have to look up too?” I sarcastically chuckle, “like I can be a decent father.” I laugh again, attempting to hold back tears.

A wary smile surfaces on his lips, “Your son is waiting to meet you.”

Oh, my son…

I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can. Go back to your family.”

“My son is better off without me.”

“He’s not the only one who needs you.” Logan remarks. But, I don’t really care. I don’t have it in me. They’re all better off without me. Mum and Gem can get through life without me and so can Elise.

Sure, maybe it will be hard for a while, but eventually, it would get easier, right?

“Elise can do better. She’ll move on.”

“She wouldn’t.” Logan shakes his head, “your daughters need you. You have your chance to do things over, take it.”

“I don’t have daughters.”

“with that attitude, you won’t. If you love Elise. You’ll fight and go back to her. If you want to be a coward fine, take my hand.” Logan offers me his hand and I stare at it, contemplating what to do.

I stand for a moment, debating what the fuck to do, I can either go with my brother and live in a well-disposed bliss or I can choose the other path and presumably go back to Elise. I glance at Logan and I can see the smile on his face; I can feel Logan radiating this energy and slowly drawing away from me.

I don’t say anything, I just gulp and breathe for a moment. Logan grants me a wider smile and nods his head as though he is condoning the choice that I have yet to verbally expose.

He stands straighter and smooths his tie, a smile dangled in the corner of his lips. “I’ll see you when I see you, Harry.”

*** ***

My eyes gradually open and at first, everything is blurry and hard to make out, a cluster of white patches, but it gently clears as I come into focus and overhear the beeping sound of machines that are familiar.

If this is what heaven sounds and looks like then all those movies got it wrong.

It takes me a moment to grasp my bearings and come to terms with being awake in the real world, at least I assume it’s the real world. I doubt heaven resembles like a dismal hospital room and the feeling of being barren and exhausted.

I feel heaviness on my shoulder and it takes me a moment to come to terms with Elise’s warm body nestled into me and her head on my shoulder. I curve my lips into a petite smile and swiftly, I no longer feel hollow.

As I take a deep breath, I am overcome with all the pain I didn’t physically feel while asleep.

Fuck.

There goes my sweet serenity.

I don’t move or wake Elise amidst my pain, instead, I do my best to pull the blanket to rest on her.

I feel her stirring against me, something I have grown to understand as the baby gradually waking up. Elise doesn’t know this, but she unknowingly wakes me when the little one is beginning to wake up, she continuously wiggles against me in her sleep and draws me closer to her and doesn’t part from my body until the little one has successfully woken her. Sometimes he lets her sleep while I stay awake just stroking her hair or stroking her stomach, other times my company isn’t sufficient enough for him and he insists on waking his mother.

I caress my hand against her stomach tenderly, feeling our pride and joy moving beneath me. And to think I almost took Logan’s hand and went with him.

It’s this sudden moment that makes me appreciate that I didn’t go with Logan- that I stayed.

It won’t be easy, but I know it will be worth the struggle.

“You’re awake?” Niall murmurs ever so softly, articulating more of a question than a statement.

I hum as he stands up from his position in the chair, “how ye’ feeling?”

I can’t help but smirk as a way to mask any discomfort, “like I was shot.”

Niall rolls his eyes at my remark, “still a smart ass.”

“Oi,” I breathe in a breath and grimace slightly, “still yeh boss.”

Niall nods, “Almost thought I lost you, mate. You gotta stop doing this, kinda like you as my boss.”

“Kinda like bein’ your boss,” I grin softly, uplifting the mood.

“Looks like you’re not making that trip to New York over Christmas though.”

I sigh heavily, remembering that I had jam-packed my schedule over the Christmas period coming up, against Elise’s wishes, and now here I am, completely unable to make any of the arrangements.

At least I will be home for Christmas.

“Your wife— she’s the definition of a ride or die— never let her go,” Niall gestures towards Elise.

“Don’t plan to.”

“She tried to bribe the authorities to let her have 5 minutes with your father while he was handcuffed.”

I chuckle to myself, essentially because I can envision her becoming extremely ferocious and pleading to get her way. I wouldn’t be surprised if she batted those sumptuous eyes of hers, dangled that attractive smile and applied her charm.

If there is one thing I can say, Elise has always had my back even when I haven’t noticed it.

“Do you want me to wake her? You seem… pained.”

I instantly shake my head. My discomfort is nothing compared to how she must feel when waiting for me to wake up. If the shoe was on the other foot, I would be a mess if I had to assemble by a hospital bed and wait for her to wake up. “No, let her sleep.” … “But some morphine would be nice… And ice.”  

Through the pain, I chuckle to myself, a sudden remembrance of something I wrote years ago in my journal coming back to mind. The lyric I once wrote for my own personal self, “give me some morphine. Is there any more to do?”

Obviously, at the time I was not literally meaning I wanted morphine, it was more of a metaphor for the pain I was feeling when Elise broke up with me very early on in our relationship. Just like an addict craves to get their drugs back and relapse— I needed to get back with Elise— a pretty simple understanding. I was desperate with my desire to preserve what was there between us. I was the one that stirred her to breaking up with me for my own selfish tendencies, I accused myself and denied to give up hope.

*

Niall keeps me awake and speaking for a little bit, explaining to me the obligations I have missed in the hours I have been in another universe. Apparently, I have been out for nearly twenty-four hours which writhed my nurses. I guess I took my sweet time deciding whether I wanted to live or not. Niall informs me of how detectives have been waiting for me to wake up and how they received quite a few words from Elise, needless to say, they won’t be back until they are called.

I assume I have to call them when I am not on morphine to nurse the pain.

“Damn,” I hear Elise mumble as she lets out a heavy breath and her body moves from mine.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” I snicker.

Elise grunts, “Shut it, Styles.”

Ouch, someone’s grouchy.

Her enrapturing eyes gleam into my iridescent, malachite-green eyes before she goes wide-eyed and springs up a little, surprised, to say the least. “Fuck, no, don’t shut up, I am so sorry. You’re awake.”

“Careful, darling,” I mutter, reminding her that this bed is not ever ending. The last thing I want is for her to fall off the damn bed. “You okay? Ye’ just staring.”

“Fine, how are you? How do you feel? D you need ice? Do you need anything-”

“Hey, relax. I’m fine considering my father shot me.” I grin at her, attempting to alleviate the mood.

She doesn’t need to fret and dote on me hand and foot for the next however long it takes for me to recover. I am alive, therefore; I am fine.

Elise caresses a kiss on my cheek before she gingerly sits herself up and her eyes flick towards Niall. “You knew he was awake, didn’t you?” She crosses her arms and raises a brow with that glare that can burn through walls.

I can only assume she is not pleased that she was not woken up the moment I decided to make my grand appearance.

Niall shifts off of the wall and nods, “Indeed… Need some help?” Niall proposes graciously.

Before Elise can shake her head and refuse his assistance, I speak for her, ��Yes.”

Elise cocks her head and her knife cutting eyes gaze at me, “don’t need you falling.” I murmur before she sighs and enables Niall to assist her.

“Don’t need you pulling your IV out,” she gestures towards my left arm with the IV.

Damn, I hate them. They’re so fucking bothersome.

It is like she is reading my mind and my desires to pull the damn thing out.

*  

I flip aimlessly through the boring channels on the television while Elise is perched comfortably in the seat with a blanket draped over her legs and a book in her hand.

“Elle?”

She looks up from her book, “you in pain?”

I shake my head, “No, I am bored.”

Elise rolls her eyes and flicks her eyes back to her book. As we all know, I am not the person who can assemble in a hospital bed or any bed and simply twiddle my thumbs. I have to be doing something and keep myself entertained.

“Elise…Elle…baby…love…darling-”

“Harry,” she sighs as she glances over at me and keeps her hand in her book to mark the page, “would you prefer to read a book?” she proposes.

“Ha, no,” I shake my head.

“Harry, take a nap.”

“No.”

“You’re being bothersome.”

I pout my lips and screw my nose up at her comment before I glance away from her and look back to the television.

I hear Elise heavily huff before her book closes and I feel her eyes on me. “I am sorry… Wanna talk?”

“No.”

“Well… maybe we should talk about baby names?” Elise suggests, gradually intriguing me and drawing me from being bratty. “He needs a name and we haven’t had time to think of a name.”

I cock my head to the side and glance over at her with a small smile. “Anything in mind?”

She thinks for a moment, “I like the name, Tommy and James. You?”

“No on Tommy.” I shake my head, “No offence, but Tommy will not make a good name on a desk. It sounds…. weak.”

“Harry, it isn’t guaranteed he will be like you and be a CEO. Maybe he wants to be a pilot or a dancer or an engineer.”

“I know, but Tommy is a sweet name and I jus’, I don’t like it suited. Tommy Styles. Eh.” … “I like James, it is nice. What about Noah?”

“Nah.”

“Thomas?” I suggest.

“No, don’t like it.” Elise is quick to shake her head.

“Luke?”

“no.”

“Are you going to say yes to anything?” I challenge, staring at my apparently very picky yet beautiful wife.  I assume she has a name picked out that she is pondering in that mind of hers.

Elise shrugs, “Nathan?”

“Not a fan of it. Hey, I do have a question.” I inform Elise and she waits for me to continue on. “How about Logan as the middle name? I know it probably isn’t what you-”

“Yes,” Elise doesn’t let me finish my sentence, “of course,” she nods.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. I like it. Tommy Logan Styles.” Elise smirks playfully at me and I roll my eyes.

“Nice try, darling.”

“It was worth a try.”

“I love you for trying.”

Elise smiles before she pushes herself up from the chair and steps over towards me, “And I love you.” Elise leans down and kisses my lips sweetly, reminding me that she does love me and that I made the right decision.

___

(I’d like to thank my lovely friends for allowing me to constantly send them bits and pieces and for allowing me to bounce off ideas of them. @lostinreality014  @haroldsflowerchild @ca-sunsets @not-nessasarily and @latersdiana) On another note, thank you to my readers for enjoying this journey with me and for reading! P.S There is one more chapter after this, just one. :( Xx

[documentingmythoughts]

The Hijab-less Muslim

05/28/18: Marks the 2 Years I have gone without my Hijab

PHASE 1: Wearing a Hijab during 4th-11th Grade

I remember having my parents approach my sisters and me when we were young to tell us that in our religion, girls have the choice of wearing a hijab. They explained to us that it was a symbol of modesty, of our willful practice of Islam, and that God would cherish us and send us to heaven if we wore one. I quickly accepted what they had said and thought I was going to be the coolest kid in school with my new hijab. I decided that I would color-coordinate my hijab with my clothes and be different from everyone else. I thought I would be the talk of the grade and gain SO many friends. 

I did shock the kids in my school. And my school’s white administration. And all of the strangers who stared at me. 

As a fourth grader, I was introduced to the concepts of racism, discrimination, Islamophobia, and hate. 

I lost friendships. I became a target of bullying. I had classmates tell me that their parents said they couldn’t be my friend anymore because I was Muslim. But, all of this hate only fueled my anger and desire to break free of everyone’s prejudices and their desires to watch me fail. Some people voiced that they wanted me to take my hijab off, while others wanted to see me suffer and break. I persisted.

Part of what kept me going was knowing that by being studious and doing all of the right things,  I might be making the life of another Muslim/hijabi easier. That maybe if these people got to know me, they wouldn’t condemn an entire religion anymore and not view me as subhuman. I was a VERY optimistic kid, can you tell?

My sisters definitely made wearing a hijab easier too. We would complain together, look up videos on different ways of tying a hijab, and be on the lookout for new patterned scarves. There came a point where the discrimination we faced seemed bearable and became part of the backdrop of our normal lives. I learned how to suppress my emotions and to continue to exist without letting racist comments torment me. I learned how to keep surviving. But that state of comfort changed in my junior year.

PHASE 2: The Climax of Discrimination and its Consequences

My junior year was a complete shitshow. There was incident after incident until my family and I no longer felt safe in my neighborhood nor my high school. Part of it was a reflection of what was being broadcasted by the media. Terrible acts of terrorism such as the tragic Paris attacks and the San Bernardino shooting were being committed by people who identified as Muslim. With the rise of Trump, people felt more justified in their racist views and harassed us more than usual. I remember my mom remarking to me that the discrimination that we faced during that time was similar to what my parents experienced following 9/11. So in the midst of taking the ACT, SAT, and deciding what colleges to apply to, I was dealing with heightened discrimination as well.

One of the first major acts of discrimination that affected me directly was when a Facebook page that I was one of the admins of for my high school class got hacked by racist white upperclassmen. These students flooded the page with posts of racially-charged images of men dressed in lingerie while wearing hijabs, pictures of student’s genitalia, and a threat against Muslim students. The threat warned Muslim students from coming to school the following day or else they would be hurt. The threat was present on the page for 8 minutes until I reported it and took it down. The threat was made by what seemed like a fake account and couldn’t be linked to a specific student. The dean of students asked me to screenshot every post and send it to her. And so I had to sit there, shaking, and in tears while looking at all of these posts stating that I don’t deserve to exist and mocking the religion that I grew up cherishing. The administrators at my school responded to this incident by informing me that they had no control over activity on social media. I never found out if those students were ever held responsible for their actions.

But this was only the beginning of a long list of actions that occurred and made me feel small, unsafe, and reduced me to my brown, Muslim identity. My parents began urging us to take off our hijabs and said it was too unsafe to wear one. That they would never forgive themselves if anything were to happen to their children because of this choice. My sisters and I were stubborn and refused to give in, but as the incidents abroad and at home started to pile up, my parent’s urgings against us wearing our hijabs became stronger and ours became weaker. I continued to fight and negotiate with them. Initially, we agreed that I would stop wearing one when I went to college due to their lack of control over what would happen there. Over time, we renegotiated until it was decided that I would stop at the end of my junior year of high school because I was going to be traveling in the Southern U.S. as part of a college-access program in the summer, in areas where anti-Islamic sentiment is very prevalent.

Choosing to take off my hijab was a painful choice. Not because I am a religious person, but because I had fought all these systems of oppression for so long, that it felt like I lost. That maybe this world is too fucked up to fix.

PHASE 3: The Aftermath

I remember going back to school for the first time without a hijab. I remember flinching the first time I felt the wind touch my neck. My teachers, counselors, and peers struggled to keep their eyes from widening and stuttered when they spoke to me. I had white teachers and coaches tell me they thought I made the *right* decision by taking off my hijab and that I looked *pretty* without it. They even asked me if my parents knew about my decision and were genuinely shocked when I informed them that my parents were the strongest advocates to take my hijab off. As if the notion that my brown and Muslim parents could not look past their religion and care for the safety of their children was too far-fetched.

In addition to this, I felt like a lab rat that everyone was fascinated to watch and monitor. My hair got caught in car doors because I never had to account for the extra time I had to wait for my hair to settle. I never had to think about how my hair was a reflection of my well being, until the little effort that I initially made to maintain it was enough for people to make comments to me. They remarked that they could tell how much sleep I had the night before or that they could determine how stressed I was depending on how frizzy or put together my hair looked. I had to start thinking of ways to maintain it, to “find the right products” so that I would be accepted by society.

In many ways, taking off my hijab made me realize that it was a blessing and a curse.

While wearing a hijab, most of my interactions felt pre-determined, as I had no choice but to interact with the overt racists who had something to say to me. All of my battles were chosen for me and I had no choice but to take arms and fight. I fought to exist with the label I carried which was emotionally draining and laborious. Without my hijab, I can pick and choose which battles to exert my energy towards.

On the other hand, wearing a hijab filtered my interactions; those who were my friends really, truly respected me as a person. Those who were uncomfortable with my presence and existence did not approach me and definitely did not befriend me. But, without my hijab, people don’t instantly label me. Only after interacting and in some cases becoming their friend did it become clear that they didn’t know my story, my identities, and that what they say or the views they have hurt me. I wish I could continue to have this filter that my hijab provided. It definitely would be helpful in college.

I also did not know that strangers smiled at (and at times greeted) other strangers when you walk on the street. I only became aware of this phenomenon after I took off my hijab and this started to happen to me. I was genuinely shook by its occurrence in the beginning and realized how fucked up it was that I didn’t receive these “smiles” when I wore a hijab. I guess that’s a reflection of how messed up society is. People need to do better.

I am often asked if I would consider wearing a hijab again later in my life. My current answer to this is no. I like being able to pick and choose my battles and not feeling emotionally drained as I did with my hijab. Since I now know what life is like without that constant influence weighing down on me, it’s too high of a cost to reintroduce now. I’m still only 2 years without my hijab so my answer may change once I fully experience what life is like this way.

People often talk about how the women who wear hijabs in Islam are oppressed and face a lot of sexism through religion. While this may be the case for other Muslim women in the world, it wasn’t my general experience with Islam. It was American culture and small-minded people who oppressed me and made me feel worthless for practicing my religion. For being the “secular” and religiously tolerant country America claims to be, my experiences would suggest otherwise. So while Congress shall make “no law respecting the establishment of religion,” or prohibit “the free exercise of one,” this country is already built by its people and institutions of power to reject my existence.  

If y’all really took the time to read all of this, I am sincerely impressed and grateful. Thank you for hearing part of my story. Feel free to reach out if you wanna talk!

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #6: Probably just me but is anyone else concerned about the whole Oscar and Ozpin switching back and forth between control of Oscar’s body dynamic? Don’t know bout ya’ll but I’m definitely seeing some dark foreshadowing being hinted here...

At first I figured the whole Oscar switching between Ozpin and his own consciousness was something that he could control since it is mainly his body. Ozpin did mention last episode that the only reason that he was able to communicate with everyone through Oscar was cause he had handed control over to him. That being said, I figured that was the deal. That Ozpin would only be allowed to take control so long as Oscar permits him to. However, that theory was chucked out the window following the most recent episode. In Chapter 4, I saw something that bugged me a little whenever Oscar switched places with Ozpin.

It was the moment at the end of the Mistral scene where everyone is having that big ‘Cheers’ moment and Jaune was all sombre about not having fully unlocked his semblance as yet which was then followed by Ozpin suddenly reappearing again. Mind you, the first time Ozpin appeared in that episode, it was after asking Oscar permission to take control to fight Ruby which one can only assume that he did cause...well it was Ozpin who fought Ruby afterward.

However, in that last moment, Ozpin didn’t ask Oscar for permission that time. He just...simply appeared; taking full control again. Now one could argue that maybe Ozpin asked Oscar for permission again mentally in order to talk to Jaune and the team to which Oscar allowed. If that was the case then, cool. But I dunno. Why do I get this feeling that since both Oscar and Ozpin’s souls are combined, as Oscar becomes stronger, so will Ozpin. And because of this it will soon be to the point where he will just be able to take full control of Oscar’s body without the need of him handing him the reigns since by then, Oscar’s body would have become his as well so possession would be easier.

This whole scenario reminds me of an old episode of the original Yugioh. One that I, as an ole school fan would never forget. For all my Yugioh fans in the hizz house, do you guys remember the episode where Yugi duelled Kaiba? No I’m not talking about the first episode. I’m talking about the one on Pegasus Island. Y’know where Kaiba put Yugi in a corner and threatened to kill himself if Yugi did not forfeit the match and surrender all of his battle chips to him so that he could sucker his way into facing Pegasus for Mokuba’s soul? The one where he backed himself up onto the ledge of the castle and told Yugi that if he dealt the final blow that would’ve rewarded him victory in the duel, the force of the impact would’ve sent Kaiba sailing to his death.

The one where we got to see just how far the Pharaoh was willing to go to win and how truly scared Yugi was at his relentlessness. The one where Yugi afterwards broke down in tears and tearfully expressed his newfound fear of the Pharaoh inside him.  

Remember that episode guys? Boy, that was fun episode, am I right?

It was the most dramatic moment in Yugioh history for me; cause for the first ever in the show, you really got a glimpse of the internal struggle between Yugi and his other half. Yugi was so traumatized by the whole thing; so frightened by the Pharaoh’s nature that he refused to call upon his help for a while. I don’t remember how they reconciled other than it happening before Yugi faced Joey. I think it was in the episode where Yugi battled and defeated Mai and it was actually her that talked him back into fighting her at his full strength; meaning with the Pharaoh’s help.

Why I remember this episode specifically is because not only was it a well done character episode but a very believable one in terms of raw emotions and creating drama and suspense. As the viewer watching, I literally felt Yugi’s pain and fear over losing himself to the influence of the Egyptian Pharaoh.

And strangely enough, I can’t help but feel like something like that might happen between Oscar and Ozpin at some point in the series. I’m not saying that Ozpin is a bad person. On the contrary, Ozpin has always been a rather compassionate and understanding character, even in his original form.

Nonetheless, despite those traits, there have been several characters addressed in the series who have been proven to not fully trust Ozpin and his intentions. The first example was General Ironwood back in Volume 2 and now we have Raven.

What if... there comes a time when Ozpin might want to do something that Oscar isn’t 100% ok with committing and the two become out of sync mentally as either souls struggle with the other for control. Imagine if Ozpin lost himself in a moment of regret, vengeance and pure rage. Like he becomes so desperate to undo his thousand year old curse and stop Salem once and for all that he would even go so far as to ignore Oscar’s consent in the whole process and there becomes a real power struggle. The series has hinted the whole ‘story of a man with two souls, both FIGHTING for control’ before. Up until this point, despite some earlier tension, Ozpin and Oscar have been getting along quite well (definitely better than when they first started off) and working together mighty fairly. We have yet to get a scenario where they literally have to fight each other for dominance.

Insert Kingdom Hearts reference here where the heart becomes a battleground (or in their case, the mind becomes a battleground) and the two opposing souls and personalities will face off once and for all to see who will be the more dominant presence.

Imagine Oscar becoming so distressed by Ozpin fighting to take over his body that he loses all trust in him and for some time, he struggles to suppress his other half as he refuses to even give Ozpin an inch of control; even in moments where everyone does need Ozpin.

So it’s a thing where Oscar is forced to become more like Ozpin; learning to fight like him, talk like him, absorb all the knowledge gathered from his decades of experience and memories...doing everything he can to become him so that others can depend on him as him with the use of Ozpin’s memories but not actually having to ever call upon Ozpin again...if that makes sense.

Cause I’d imagine Oscar having to suppress Ozpin would be a struggle on him both physically and mentally. It might even begin to wear him down at some point. Gonna switch series and use a Steven Universe reference now but picture a Malachite moment with Ozpin and Oscar where Oscar is struggling to keep Ozpin at bay. It’s probably not as bad as how it was for Lapis with Jasper but it’s still taxing all the same. He wouldn’t relax. He wouldn’t sleep. All his energy would go into keeping Ozpin restrained at all times. He becomes so fearful of Ozpin taking over that he’ll even withhold rest cause he’s paranoid that Ozpin might try to fight him when he’s unconscious.

I’m not saying that this will happen in the series. It’s only a fan theory but now that I’ve written it out, I kind of would like to see something like this happen in the show.

Again, not implying that Ozpin is a bad guy or anything. However; how much do we truly know of his character? He did mention at least twice now that he has made more mistakes than any living being in the World of Remnant. His biggest failure being Salem. While I have my own theories regarding the deeper meaning behind Ozpin’s connection to Salem, that’s a musing for another time. Point I’m making here is, we don’t fully know what Ozpin is like. Not really.

While he does have a caring and very likeable side as we’ve seen so far in the series, I think he has a much darker past and much more negative background that the show has revealed. I like you Ozpin but RWBY Volume 5 Chapter 4 really making me give you a side eye with the Oscar mind switch.

Definitely wouldn’t mind seeing an episodic arc of some sort where Oscar struggles with Ozpin following a very tragic incident. Maybe...Maybe Salem shows up and Ozpin has a shot to stop her once and for all but not without having to make a sacrifice. Maybe Salem takes control of someone really close to Oscar. Not saying that it’d necessarily be Ruby. As much as I ship RosePine, not always can Ruby be Oscar’s motive to fighting to protect someone. What if it’s someone else close to Oscar? Like maybe his aunt? Maybe Oscar/Ozpin gets a chance to kill Salem but she takes possession of Oscar’s aunt and uses her like a shield.

Oscar immediately hesitates cause it’s his aunt...the closest thing he had to a mother figure his entire life...the only family he has left. He couldn’t risk killing her in the process even if it did mean stopping the ultimate incarnation of evil. However Ozpin wants to go forward with stopping Salem anyways cause it might be their only chance. Ozpin did warn Oscar in Volume 4 that his transition into becoming a huntsman would not come without sacrifice and hardship. I’m not saying that Ozpin is the type to sacrifice an innocent life but...we don’t know how he is when face to face with Salem so.... So I think this could be the perfect catalyst to jumpstart Oscar distrusting Ozpin. Picture Ozpin forcibly taking over Oscar after sensing his unwillingness in cooperating to stop Salem. Viewers will then get a visual representation of Oscar’s mind with both him and Ozpin sharing its corridors. As a fan, I really hope that the CRWBY will give us viewers a look inside what Oscar’s mind looks like. Not only will it give us more of a sense of who he is as a character but it will help further highlight what it’s like for him to have to share it with Ozpin, who I guess would bring his own design element to the boy’s mind.

Imagine how cool it would be to see Oscar and Ozpin tussle but it’s all inside his head. In Oscar’s mind, it’s a warzone but to the viewer outside, it just looks like Oscar is battling a really terrible headache, holding his head and writhing in pain as his eyes flashed back and forth between their default hazel hue to glowing gold and every once in a while both Oscar and Ozpin’s voice escaped his lips. An odd image to visualize but go with me on this one.

The two battle each other for control with Ozpin, being the more experienced veteran gaining the upper hand. However in the end, Oscar in a surprising feat of strength, overpowers Ozpin and suddenly summons these mental chains that he then uses to bind Ozpin. Ozpin counterattacks but even he is powerless against Oscar’s control. Ozpin is subdued and Oscar finally regains use of his own body. He chooses to surrender and spare Salem so long as she releases his aunt.

But then it’s all in vain anyways cause right after Oscar says he’s not gonna kill her, Salem kills his aunt anyways right before his very eyes (cause she’s a big bad bitch like that) but not before nonchalantly thanking the young man for doing the right thing and sparing her life. She then attempts to kill Oscar too (who was too weak from fending off Ozpin to really fight back) but decides to let him live since he was so sweet to spare her life so it was only fair that she spared his (cause y’know, she’s a big bad bitch but a big bad bitch with morals? I dunno).

So this tragedy happens and Oscar is changed; refusing to accept Ozpin’s help and guidance anymore. Toss in him abandoning his huntsman training and running away with no one knowing really where to find him. Except maybe, Ruby, who figures out that Oscar would return to the only place he knew. His home back on his now deceased aunt’s farm.

Toss in Ruby, Jaune, Nora and Ren going there to convince Oscar to come back with them and fight to stop Salem.

Toss in Ruby being the one having to coax Oscar back into trusting Ozpin again, after seeing how stressed, worn out and really unlike himself he has become as a result of of it (similar to how Mai was with Yugi and Yami Yugi/Pharaoh/Atem) and I can see a very interesting moment happening for Oscar and Ozpin’s relationship and dual character development here.

Yoooo! We can even get a Fullmetal Alchemist reference where Oscar burns down his aunt’s entire farm, cutting ties to his old life. It’ll make zero f***ing sense because it’s a big ass farm but, at least we’ll get another FMA reference besides the corresponding VAs.

Not saying that the CRWBY are gonna pull an original Yugioh. Not even saying that they would even pull a dark thing like what I just wrote. Still...those buggers killed Pyrrha man! THEY KILLED PYRRHA! I am STILL SALTY about that! So yeah, I’m not gonna count them not doing something like this to Oscar. I can’t predict the level of character growth they have in store for Oscar and Ozpin. All I can do is wait and muse.

However, it is quite the thought to ponder about. I guess we shall see for future episodes then. Until then, that’s it for this musing. See you all in the next one!

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2017)

[havegaysex]

This is just a train of thought essay, I guess to get some feelings out so I can process them, because I don't have therapy this week and it's my first week off since starting treatment and I've been doing a lot of processing on my own but it's hard when I get stuck in loops because I don't remember what I just said, if you do for some reason decide to read this, trigger warnings for abuse and CSA and probably other stuff but I don't know

I use speech to text and sometimes mumble or talk too fast so there may be some weird wording but I don't want to proof this.

I really hope Tumblr cuts this off so there's a read more, I'm doing it from mobile and I don't know how to make that happen on the phone app

I started learning about dissociative identity disorder because I have a friend who has it, and before she told me about her diagnosis she sent me some YouTube videos and some reading on it I guess to kind of gauge my reaction before telling me, which is understandable,

and then my brain being what it is and having a huge special interest in psychology I hyper fixated on it for a bit,

and I started this research deep dive after I started therapy, and I started realizing that my therapist has been pointing out things that are symptoms of a dissociative disorder for a little bit now, which would explain a lot of things that I haven't been able to get explained with other physical or mental diagnoses

and she gave me a referral for "diagnostic clarity" and I'm just waiting for that to go through, and I'm not self-diagnosing but I feel like I relate way too much to DID and OSDD to be singlet (not system),

and I had no idea that any of this stuff wasn't normal because my whole life was just focused on survival and my brain did what it needed to so that I could survive the highly abusive and volatile environment I grew up in, and now that I am halfway out a lot of stuff is starting to surface that was suppressed or hidden before,

I used to be really high functioning towards the end of high school because it was avoidance, I spent 14 hours a day at school and completed over a year and a half's worth of classes in one semester to get caught up after failing, and then college started out rough but it started getting okay my second semester, and then covid hit which caused me to have to withdraw because I couldn't do online school, and now I'm taking a semester off to do intense mental health and physical health therapy,

and I don't know how to function,

I don't know how to function without being in a high pressure environment where I'm scared of verbal, emotional, and occasionally physical abuse,

Now that I'm existing in a space where I have privacy and I'm allowed to have feelings and thoughts of my own I don't know how to take care of myself,

At first I thought I was just depression and maybe for a little bit it was because I have a bit of seasonal effective disorder, and one of my friends went a few states away and he's going to be gone for almost a year, and I went through some other stuff that definitely should trigger depression

But after getting my physical pain under control again, and increasing and being better at taking my antidepressants regularly and realizing that it's so much more,

I was never allowed to become my own person and have a solid sense of identity, because self-expression was punished I became as my therapist says "fragmented" and I learned to suppress a lot of parts of myself,

I have huge gaps in my memory and people I know now who knew me back then have talked about things that I supposedly did and said and the person I supposedly was during some of those gaps and I just don't understand who they're talking about, I know to them that person and me are the same person but to me they're talking about someone that I don't know, I have no recollection of ever being that person,

At my last in-person therapy appointment she had me start telling her The narrative of my life and at first I thought I didn't have many memories from before 5 years old but it's like she had a switch in me and once I started I just kept going and I feel like I haven't fully been the same person since that session because it pulled something from deep within me that I haven't been able to put back in its box,

And it's been getting worse the farther I get from that visit

For the past week I've probably eaten two days worth of food and I've maybe had four days of water, because my body just can't handle eating and drinking as much as it should for being this size, I don't like feeling like my body is too big for me, I feel like I'm in a grown-up's body and I'm still a kid but I know that I'm an adult, I'm expected to do adult things even though I have no idea how to start doing that, because on top of abuse holding me back and mental health issues I have physical health issues that make it impossible for me to do a lot of minimum wage jobs,

I don't have fully realized different parts of myself the way it seems like a lot of people with dissociative identity disorder do, but I definitely feel like a different version of me is running the show sometimes and I don't understand the actions of my past self because that's something my current self would never ever do or think or feel or say,

And I've always had a kind of discomfort in my body because of dysphoria as well as being bullied for my appearance and having adults make comments on my body when I was way too young as well as being groomed by pedophiles and then having my mom threatened to kill herself over it instead of sitting down with me and having an actual conversation about how starting to have sexual feelings wasn't that horrible but it was the fact that I was talking to adults who were four times my age that was the problem,

And on top of that I went through Catholic School as a girl who was realizing that she was into other girls

And my personal Catholic School experience told me that sex was wrong unless it was for the purpose of procreation and female sexual pleasure is always wrong and homosexuality is also always wrong and that I need to be thoroughly ashamed of being this way because I am having eternal damnation over this thing that I have no choice in,

Recently every time that I try to exist as a sexual human being I experienced the personalization and I stopped being able to look at any piece of my body and I have to avoid mirrors for my reflection because it makes me feel so mentally and physically uncomfortable because in my head that's not me and that's not my body, even though I know both of those are false it doesn't change the fact that I don't feel comfortable in my own skin,

It's so hard to do basic self-care things because in where I'm living right now I can't shower in the dark because I'm not familiar with the shower which means that either I shower in my clothes or I don't bathe at all, and because I can't drink the tap water here I've been getting dehydrated because sometimes I love tea especially green tea, but sometimes I can't stand the taste of it and I just want plain water which I don't have here,

Don't get me wrong this living situation is insane amount better than previous ones, and up until the past week and a half or so I was functioning adequately, but it's like pieces of me that I had to walk away are coming out now and they don't know how to function in any environment but especially in this one where we don't fear getting kicked out over something like not doing the dishes correctly, and I have more privacy than I've had in the past 10 years combined, and it's weird to me I think autonomy, when I go back to my abusive environment I don't have this kind of autonomy, it sucks because in one environment I feel like I have too much autonomy even though I have a very healthy amount of autonomy for my age, and in the other environment I don't have enough even though even theere I have more autonomy than I've ever had because I fought tooth and nail for it, but it's still way less than I should have

I don't know how to exist and feel comfortable anywhere, I don't know how to take care of myself anymore, and I know this won't last because none of my moods/thought patterns ever do, but it'll likely come back because they tend to come back,

I feel like I've been in a dissociative fog for the past few months and sometimes I'm highly functional and I get a lot of things done but sometimes I can't even brush my teeth or eat anything, because my mouth feels so different and I can't tolerate things being in my mouth,

Nothing that I do feels right, video games I used to enjoy, TV shows, movies, food, music, at best I just don't get the full enjoyment of it that I usually do, at worst it triggers a negative mood because I'm reminded of how much I don't feel like myself right now,

And the isolation of being in a global pandemic doesn't help, texting people is great but you can't get held while you cry over text,

It could be worse I suppose because at least I know that how I'm feeling and thinking right now won't last, in previous bad mental health episodes one of the fears I would have is that I would be stuck that way, and now I know better than to think that which definitely helps eliminate or at the very least minimize the feelings of hopelessness and despair