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algumaideia · 3 years ago

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An analysis of Octavian

This post was actually going to be an explanation of why I think Octavian is an antagonist, but not a villain. But it ended up being an analysis of his character.

SPOILERS

And as always feel free to disagree with me, just be respectful.

Sorry, because it wasn’t well-written, I’m incapable of writing good texts.

Backstory

I think it is important to say that since we don’t have any information about his backstory most of the thing said in this part of the review are what I think is his backstory. It is a mix of the facts stated in the books, the way Octavian acts and my interpretations. Besides the things I’ll make clear that were said in the books, the rest is not canon. And you don’t need to agree with me that this was his backstory.

His family is one of the richest of New Rome- In the books he also seems to act without fearing the consequences while taking the privilege/money of his family as garented. Octavian acts like someone that is seeking attention. It is so weird how he just do whatever he wants without fearing consequences when his family is right there in New Rome. For that to happen I think or his family neglects him or they are those kind of people who think the children can do no wrong and are all my baby didn’t do that. But I think that if they were the latter, they would be more present in Octavian’s life, but they are never there.

He is an augere and feels very proud about it. I don’t think there is too much to add about it besides that I think he likes to be an augere because it makes him important and necessary.

No one likes him and this isn’t something new. In Son of Neptune, Hazel says half of the camp hates Octavian and most of his friends are bought. So, Octavian is a lonely child. And he is aware of this. He is a bad person, people dislike him for a reason. But it seems people have been disliking him for some years and he is a child. According to his wiki he was 10 years old when he came to Camp Jupiter for the first time, and he spent his tweens and teens years in a place where people did not like him. I don’t think this was a good place to grow up.

He is really smart and manipulative. I think that those traits are a little inconsistent. Because in the beginning of the SoN Percy says how Octavian is really good at manipulating people with words, but then in the ending of the book and in MoA everyone is shutting Octavian up. Isn’t he this kind of master of words, how he isn’t answering people back?

We also know he’s been at camp jupiter for quite sometime. I’ll talk about it in another part of the post.

He is anemic and mentally ill. I’ll talk about those things in the Camp Jupiter, Treatment and Ableism parts.

Other thing that I would like to say is that this post is not an attempt to ignore the bad things Octavian did and pretend he is not a bad person. It is just me trying to understand his better and show why in my opinion the fandom hasn’t treated him fairly.

Camp Jupiter

Camp Jupiter sucks and it does for a lot of reasons. Some of them being the fact they have a city full of adults and most of them were demigods trained in the camp, which means they have trained adults but instead tweens and teens are the ones who fights. Hazel said that if Percy dishonored the legion they both would be executed. Hazel also says that sometimes people die in the war games. There is also the fact that people are dying all the time in missions/wars. The Camp Jupiter also expects perfect behavior for its demigods, to them all know the rules and to do not commit mistakes and I don’t have adhd but this doesn’t seem to be a good place to people that has the disorder. There is too much preassure to do not do any wrong, apperently no emotional support and the punishments seems to be crazy. It’s not a healthy place to a chldren grow up.

Other point is how they value physical strenght, hand to hand combats and offensive approache more than a lot of things. Frank said how he wasn’t treated well because he was an archer, and this was seem as cowardice. Octavian is anemic, he doesn’t have physical strenght or energy to be able to fight. The only way to be respected in Jupiter's camp is to be a good fighter, and he cannot be that because of his illness. As I said Octavian is someone that is often seeking attention and validation by his peers, and I think that this is why being an augere is something so important to him. He cannot make himself important in the traditional way and by being an augere he is necessary to the camp. People cannot just dismiss him. He buys friends, he manipulates people, he becomes a centurion, he is always dominating the senate. He makes himself impossible to be neglected.

Yes, Octavian is power-hungry. Yes, he is bad. But a lot of things he did during Heroes of Olympus was just Roman things (he was also mentally ill and his mental health was getting worse in each book). When Hazel says that Octavian will kill Percy if the greeks atack New Rome, but in the next sentence she says that Romans take oaths very seriously. However it is all written like it is Octavian being a horrible person. But it is not. The Romans are very harsh with their punishments, they seem to be violent, physical. When Octavian says the Romans should fight the greeks, he is just acting like a Roman, like someone who was raised in a enviroment that encouraged violence responses.

Treatment

Octavian wasn’t treated nicely by the narrative and other characters. I mean, this guy was the centurion of the first cohort and an augere. But no one seem to respect him. No one enters the legion without him saying yes (I know it is acording to what he sees) but he is treated like he isn’t important. He is the one that is responsable of saying what the gods wants, but no one seems to have problems mocking him. I mean fi he decides to give you a wrong information about what a god want you are dead.

Hazel said how “obsessed” with the sibylline books Octavian and it was framed as him being irrational and dumb. But in the end he was right, if the legion listened to him Ella would have been save way sooner. But no, it is just Octavian being “obsessed”.

Percy acts like Octavian doesn’t have any prophecy powers, but he saw the lighting in the Jupiter Temple. Then when Octavian is mad because there are three preators he acts like he is overreacting, and Jason and Reyna do nothing. And this is weird because it was made very clear that rules are very important to Camp Jupiter.

When he decides to attack Camp Jupiter he is always villified and not seem as a mentally ill boy that has been getting worse doing the Roman thing.

He is always dismissed, mocked, villified, ignored.

And the fact Luke was treated with sympathy, but Octavian not. Luke, who tried to kill Percy, a childre, a lot of times. Luke, who used Annabeth feelings and emotional attachment to manipulate her. Luke, who was 19-22 years old and groomed Silena, who was 14-18 years old. Luke, who poisoned Talia’s tree. Luke, who had no regards for Grover, the satyr that saved him. Luke was treated with sympathy. But not Octavian. Not the mentally ill child who was losing the touch with reality during the series. Not the guy who was just doing what he was raised to do.

I mean, I don’t even like Octavian and I cannot stand it.

Gwen

Guys, Octavian did a lot of bad things but killing Gwen wasn’t one of those thing. It is so no sense for a lot of reasons.

As we talked before he is anemic and he is also smart. This intelligent man, that is full aware of his physical limits, thought it would be a good idea to get in the midle of a chaotic fight? I don’t think so.

Some pages before that Percy hit Octavian and he fell like a straw man (according to the text, the first time I read it I thought he fainted).

Octavian always makes things because of a purpose, he isn’t just being mean because. He does bad things because his actions will give him something. Killing Gwen wouldn’t help him with anything.

Frank for some reason decided to look to Octavian during that mess and that doesn’t make any sense. He is in the camp for a month at this time the guy should’ve already known that Octavian doesn’t battle, he only commands. He saw Percy fighting for a couple of seconds during the war game and was already able to say how he fought.

Octavian was without his knive, but just minutes before he fainted, he could have lost it when he fell.

Frank said that Octavian seemed interested and not worried. But this is not enough to blame the guy, this is not enough to assume anything execpt that maybe Octavian has low empath.

Greeks

Octavian was a roman. To the romans the greeks didn’t exist anymore, and they were the enemy.

So, a random greek shows up, spends some days at the camp, becomes preator, and two of your most important gods appear and give a lot of attention to this greek. This is really suspicious. This greek also says that the romans should work with the greeks so they can defeat Gaea. And why you should trust this dude? He doesn’t show respect for the Roman culture. Then this huge war ship appears and this suspect greek guy says that they all come peace and the romans should not attack. Obviously you don’t believe it, and what happens they attack! As the good roman you are, your answer is to attack the greeks back.

The romans answers things with violence. This is why Reyna asked if Annabeth was a roman after the judo flip. This is why Hazel said she and Percy would be executed if he did a mistake during his period of probatio. Octavian was being roman. He was trying to protect and revenge his Camp against a long time enemy.

Not saying everything he did about it was logical, but this is because of his upbringing and his mental health.

Goals

I think it is really interisting the fact that Octavian main goal was to be a hero, not more powerful. Apollo didin’t say Octavian would become preator, he said Octavian would save New Rome.

I mean, since Octavian wanted to be preator and then became the pontifex maximum, so the logical think it would be to him wants more power. But no he wants to be a hero. A hero is someone that is respected, admired, liked and even loved. All the thing Octavian isn't. Don't get me wrong, Octavian is a bad person, there is a reason people dislike him. But he is also a lonely child that is hated by most of the camp.

Ableism

Octavian is often described as crazy, mad, insane. In his first appearence Percy said Octavian had madness in the eyes, and this was the way of the narrative warning us he was one of the bad guys. He is obviusly mentally ill, his mental health is obviusly getting worse, but everyone ignores it. Everyone ignores it, execpt when they are describing how insane his laugh is, how crazy he looks, how intense his gaze is. Everyone ignores it, until they need to remind us he is one of the antagonists.

Ending

The ending was terrible.

Octavian was obiously having a psychotic break, he was stumbling, laughing “in an insane” way, and he didn’t realize his jewelry was in fire. And then what happens? Michael Kahale, the person he most trusted, his problaby only friends appeared, saw the situation and did nothing.

Octavian didn’t kill himself. He didn’t know his clothes were tied in the onager. It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was an aciddent.

Nico stopped Will Solace who was trying to warn it because some “deaths are inevitable”. Nico, also a mentally ill character saw Octavian in the vulnerable state he was and did nothing to help him. And when Nico was seeing Octavian lunch himself to the sky he thought that this was a relief. No one was sad, no one thought this was a tragedy, no one cared. Octavian was dead and that was a relief.

The guy was so desperate to be the hero and no one even cared about his death. It is horrible.

Another sorry for the weird tense of the text.

If you want to read this is my post about Octavian and Azula and how their mental illness were treated differently.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. We need to start talking how the way Bryce was written was ableist.

#pjo #hoo #rick riordan critical #rr crit #rick riordan ableism #octavian #pjo octavian #hoo octavian #octavian ableism #octavian analysis

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softieteez · 3 years ago

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backstory

warning: death, cancer, drinking, mental abuse, some physical abuse, cussing, crying, anxiety attacks, suicidal thoughts, child neglect

genre: angst

summary: before ivy even got to her teen years, things were more difficult than most adults lives. from losing her dad, to experiencing neglect.

a/n: ivy’s story is pretty deep. feel free to skip this post if you are triggered by anything listed. also i’ll be using her birth name a lot throughout this story.

languages: normal = english. italic = korean

olivia min was born june 4, 2001 in michigan. she is the youngest of three siblings. miya, the oldest, was born february 20, 1997. and austin, the middle child, was born august 4, 1999.

growing up, olivia had an amazing relationship with her family members. her parents were always really supportive of anything she wanted to do. and her siblings, were annoying, but they all love each other so much. the family was pretty middle class, maybe more upper middle class. they had enough money to buy nice things and go on trips, which was nice and it gave the kids experiences they’d always remember.

when she was a baby, the families friend jax, had given her the nickname ‘ivy.’ the name stuck with him and eventually spread to friends at school. but her family members always called her olivia or jisoo, her korean name.

in school she was a social butterfly, running around recess practically collecting friends like they were collectors items. and because of her loving nature, no one could say no. she’s also very smart, she’s always had straight a’s and was usually willing to participate in class. teacher would say she was a sweet and smart little girl, and of course she could make the class burst into giggles at any second.

olivia started dancing at the young age of 4 when her parents enrolled her into dance classes. there, she met new friends and became one of the best youth dancers in their town.

her grandparents lived in ohio, which meant a lot of the times they would travel there for the holidays. olivia had a friend named aggy that lived there.

aggy lived next door to ivy’s grandparents. she was diagnosed with leukemia only five months before meeting the family, this was when ivy was maybe 7 years old.

through the years, ivy excelled in everything from piano lessons that she started when she was 5, to even cooking. she was a cheerful and happy little girl. until she reached age 9 when her dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.

this was a huge reality hit. she didn’t really understand it though, her dad was healthy. until he wasn’t. she remembers that day so clearly

“where’s mom and dad?” olivia asked walking into the kitchen and seeing her sister sitting next to their sleeping brother on the couch

“hospital, grandma and grandpa will be here in a few hours. for now our neighbors are gonna look after us”

“hospital? but why?” the little girl tilted her head

“i don’t know olivia. go back to sleep it’s early” miya did know, she saw her dad getting worse and worse as the months went on. but the last thing anyone wanted to do was worry anymore people. especially austin and olivia.

“okay…” she responded and went back toward her bedroom.

a few hours later she woke up to her grandma shaking her awake “wake up olivia. grandpa and i brought lunch.” the elderly woman spoke

olivia smiled at her grandmother as she sat up and stretched. the girl walked to the kitchen.

she still remembers all the yummy food her grandparents made, now knowing it was out of grief. later that night was when her parents revealed the truth to the kids.

and suddenly her whole world collapsed.

she would miss dance class and sometimes even school because her father would be in the hospital. because her mom and dad were always gone, she and her other siblings were expected to help around the house. occasionally with their grandparent by their side.

when she turned 10, she didn’t have much of a birthday blow out. and her present was some nail polish because that was all her family could afford at the time. when she turned 11, they spent her birthday in the hospital. her dads condition became so much worse that he wasn’t able to leave the hospital.

“i’m sorry you have to spend your birthday like this livvy” her dad held her had. his skin was paler than usual. colder too.

“it’s okay dad, i’m just happy we’re all here” she smiled as she held back tears. but her dad knew she wanted to cry.

“me and your mom got you something” he smiled and looked at his wife. the woman smiled sadly and reach in her purse to pull out a small purple box.

olivia grabbed the box from her mothers hand and opened it slowly. a beautiful butterfly necklace was revealed.

“it took a little while for us to find the perfect one” her moms sniffled. “we wanted you to love it”

thinking back on that moment. ivy now understood they wanted it to be special because it would be the last gift she would ever receive from her father.

“thank you mommy. thank you daddy” she whispered and pecked her dads forehead.

sadly, on june 29, her father passed away in the middle of the night. for some reason, her brain blocks this moment out. it’s all a blur.

her and her sister were sleeping on the little couch the nurses had set up and her brother was laying on the sleeping bag he had brought on the floor. it happened so suddenly. she woke up to her mom hysterically crying and weeping.

her brother and sister were frantic as nurses guided them three of them out of the room. but she does remember the last look she had at her dad.

he didn’t look real, more like a painting. or a sculpture maybe. his skin was practically white and his body was lifeless.

her whole family was in a depression, especially her mom. after losing her husband, she started drinking to numb the pain.

her grandparents left ohio and went back to korea completely unannounced. it was up to miya and austin to take care of themselves, each other, and of course olivia.

after a month of her fathers passing. the family had got a call from aggy’s mom informing them that aggy passed away july 25. so now she lost her dad and her best friend. along with that her mom isn’t stable enough to take care of her and her siblings, and her grandparents were m.i.a.

when she turned 12, that’s when her moms drinking got worse. she was living off of beer and tv dinners. she was also now mentally abusive toward her children.

austin became the child that started work. he would work late at night and then go to school all day. he was responsible for the families income at age 14.

miya was rarely ever home as well, but she was gone to escape their mom. she would rebel, hang out with her boyfriend, who ivy later found out was physically abusive.

then ivy was the kid that did the chores. she would also clean the neighbors houses to help pay her dance fees. the neighbors would always feel bad so they’d usually give her $30 for each chore she did. that was barely enough though.

and somehow, none of their friends ever noticed anything. except for austin’s, he’s always shut down plans to work and was overly tired all the time. but the friends did start noticing behavior changes

ivy became really depressed and spent most of her days just waiting for them to end.

the family got some income from the bank after the fathers passing. the kids were all in his will, earning $114k each. but they wouldn’t receive that until age 18.

around this time, ivy got into contact with her grandparent. begging day after day to move their and live out her dream of being an idol. her siblings would even call and beg the grandparents to let her, not wanting her to experience this life anymore.

after months of begging, her grandparents finally agreed to move her out to korea. she had already submitted audition videos to big companies like sm, jyp, yg, bighit etc.

she was 13 when she was officially moved into korea. she lived with her grandma and grandpa for a month before moving into the jyp dorms. she trained there for a year before being sent off to audition for produce 101.

during this time, she experienced great stress. her anxiety and depression led to suicidal thoughts and almost had to leave the show because of it. many fans who were supporting her throughout the show noticed her getting skinnier and skinnier by the episode.

somi, who became her best friend instantly, was also worried for her. ivy felt bad that she was worrying people. but she couldn’t help it, her mind controlled her. her thoughts were always telling her to do something. she would practice all the time and forget to eat.

somi would often watch after her to make sure she would at least eat a bagel and drink water everyday.

it wasn’t long before ivy would share her story, only parts of it publicly. her story reached american headlines, meaning her family and friends had seen it.

she was struggling for years. and it was only recently when she found inner happiness. she worked hard during produce, and didn’t win. and of course, she left jyp and moved to kq where she met her life long friends.

her boys have helped her so much, they were there to listen to her story, to hug her when she cried.

those are her boys, her family. her home.

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polyadvice · 3 years ago

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I have a lot of relationship anxiety, and nothing I try is soothing it

as of about 5 months ago, I entered into a poly relationship with my best friend and her boyfriend. Since starting the relationship, we've agreed to become a triad, so her boyfriend is now also my partner.

I'm basically really struggling with relationship anxiety. I'm trying to be quite proactive about it both with myself - journalling, practicing mindfulness, using CBT to interrupt harmful thought patterns - and with both of them - telling them how I feel, when I'm anxious, what I need when I need it. But I still get this feeling like I'm going to be feeling anxious forever? It's hard finding advice online that relates to specifically poly relationships.

This isn't my first poly relationship, and it's weird because in my previous one I didn't get any of this anxiety. I think, strangely, it might be because this one is actually healthier than the last? We have scheduled meetings, we discuss the relationship often, which I never have before. Although I know it's good and valuable, sometimes bringing up something I need or have been thinking about fills me with dread. I do try and push through that, in a kind of exposure therapy way, but I feel bad because every time I bring something up I end up crying. I know it's important to work through that, but often these situations just compound on my anxiety in the heat of the moment - not only am I anxious about whatever I'm bringing up, but also anxious about myself crying and perhaps making my partners feel guilty about whatever I'm asking for, perhaps forcing themselves into something they don't want.

I trust both my partners and one of the mantras I come back to again and again is that if there was something wrong they would tell me. And that it's not all my responsibility to make this relationship work - all I can do is be honest about how I'm feeling and trust they will be too. But at times the anxiety feels really all-consuming and I get this feeling like it's kind of ruining the relationship.

I suppose my question, after all of this, is whether anyone else has any experience with relationship anxiety within poly relationships? Does it get better? I feel like I'm flying blind. And although I know I can talk to my partners about it, and I do, I think I’m feeling a need for a space or conversation outside of the relationship because of what I mentioned before about compounded anxiety.

There’s a lot of advice out there about how anxiety is made worse by avoiding the thing that makes you anxious, and there’s also a lot of advice out there that says you should bring things up with your partners and talk through them in order to resolve problems like this.

It sounds like you’ve been getting, and taking, a lot of that advice, so I won’t repeat it here. I do want to give you MAJOR kudos for doing all this self-work, for not letting your anxiety hold you back from important relationship conversations, for using CBT and mindfulness and all those other tools. Definitely keep doing that, and be proud of yourself for doing it!

At the same time, there is such thing as “too much of a good thing.” In some cases, an over-emphasis on “processing” and “talking things out” can make a problem worse rather than better. It’s possible that having scheduled meetings and feeling like you need to hash out and give voice to every single negative emotion is causing you to ruminate on them more than necessary. Sometimes it’s okay to just let feelings and experiences pass without giving language to them, constructing a narrative around them, and seeking solutions or reassurance or validation after the fact.

So, if you think it would help, consider scaling back on all these conversations - not because you are indulging your anxiety, but just because they might not be all that necessary. See what it’s like to just let the relationship be what it is, and bring things up organically as you feel they need to be addressed rather than scheduling meetings. (If you think this advice is off base, feel free to ignore it!)

Also, one key thing to note that if you are dealing with this sort of chronic, long-term anxiety that doesn’t seem to go away even when you’re doing everything right - engaging in healthy behaviors, cultivating healthy relationships - that is exactly the sort of situation that medication was meant for! You might not be able to Mantra and Mindfulness your way out of this, nor do you have to. This might not be an issue with polyamory or your relationships at all, and you can find support outside of focusing on How To Be Better At Polyamory By Brute Force. Consider working with a mental healthcare professional to find ways to make things easier on yourself.

If you find yourself crying during hard conversations, but you don’t want your partners to focus on your crying and feel like it distracts from the issue you’re trying to discuss, you can also write them letters or emails to express things. That way you can say what you want to say without having to worry about managing your emotional reactions. A lot of people emphasize the importance of “face to face” conversations, but it sounds like these scheduled meetings and frequent emotional check-ins are making things harder, not easier, for you. See if it works for you and your partners to chat more casually over a text-based platform or for you to share writing with them that expresses how you feel.

Another piece of advice I have is, if you are going to keep having these structured discussions, try to set goals or intentions for the conversation going forward. If you’re not asking them to change anything about their behavior, but you just want to share your feelings and be heard, state that up front. If you are asking a specific question you want an honest answer for, or if you are bringing up a problem you want to find a solution for, let them know. Don’t just set aside an hour to talk about feelings and relationship stuff, and then spiral around and around. I’ve seen this happen a LOT, and even with the best of intentions, it tends to cause more problems than it solves.

Finally, you asked if anyone has experience with this and whether it gets better: I can only speak for myself, but I have a diagnosed anxiety disorder (a pretty severe case, too) and I can tell you that, yes, this type of anxiety is possible to manage. It is not, however, fully manageable or treatable by focusing on it in lots of relationship conversations. Sometimes, paradoxically, the harder you try to solve a problem like this, the worse it gets. You also need some distractions, self-soothing techniques, and just fun quality time with yourself and your partners. You might also need therapy (not focused on your relationship, but for anxiety management in general) and medication.

As for finding places to talk about this outside of your partners, that’s a great idea - a place to vent, process, ask questions, etc. without placing extra demands on the relationship. I’d recommend checking out some online spaces for polyamorous people (you can find some here.) However, know that anxious or negative thoughts can be reinforced by going over them multiple times, describing them, sharing them with others, etc. So be very careful about how you spend your time in these communities. Are you mostly expressing your painful thoughts, hanging out in the “vent” channels, and giving language to your anxiety? Or are you seeking friendship, connection, and advice?

In general, my advice is to try and let go of your anxiety-about-your-anxiety. Stop treating it like a problem that can be solved with more time, more attention, and more work. Lean in to the things that make you happy in this relationship, and know that you don’t have to ‘address’ every anxious feeling. Find ways to make these relationship conversations easier for yourself (set intentions, do things in writing, scale back on them) and trust your future self to handle things as they arise.

#anxiety #mental health #polyamory and mental health #polyamory #relationship advice

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yourfavisirredeemable · 4 years ago

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souyo angst - post-true ending

y’all the souyo tag has been more active than I’ve seen it in a long time (I think cause of the PC release) which makes me happier than I can measure. I’ve loved persona 4 ever since 8th grade and souyo really is my favorite ship of all time. in celebration, here’s a bunch of angst headcanons I’ve been holding onto for 5 years, specifically related to the izanami battle/true ending. (they’re actually not necessarily souyo-specific, but since I ship souyo they kinda have that overall vibe)

- do y’all really think yu narukami is just gonna come away from that battle with izanami/being trapped in a time loop illusion for an untold period of time and NOT bring any trauma with him? cause I don’t

- specifically, he can’t get rid of a horrible, nagging thought that follows him even after the IT celebrates their victory - what if this is all still part of izanami’s illusion? izanami could have just nested an illusion inside of an illusion, and that way, she can defeat him without him even knowing it

- which would mean, of course, that his friends are all still dead and he’s just living it up with a bunch of illusions. his friends sacrificed themselves for him, while he gets to live out his summer days in peace surrounded by a perfect simulation.

- that thought is terrifying to him, and it only grows over time. there’s the horror of nothing being real and his friends being dead, compounded with the guilt of having abandoned them and the helplessness of never being able to know the truth. he has the cold realization one night that he’ll never again know for certain that the world he’s living in is the real one.

- but he tries to keep it to himself and act like he normally does. after all, if he can’t ever know for sure, why worry about it? this world is probably the real one - his friends seem normal, time keeps flowing like it usually does, and even the velvet room seems the same as it was before

- as hard as he tries, his doubts and fears are really impacting his mental health, which eventually affects the way he acts. it’s subtle, but the others eventually notice it - yosuke does first, since he knows yu the best.

- he notices that whenever there’s a silence, yu will stare off into space with a strained and even slightly fearful expression. he’s worried, but he just tries to be there for his partner like normal, figuring he’ll talk to him if he needs someone to rely on

- rise notices the dark circles under his eyes and asks about them, to which yu nonchalantly responds that his part time work keeps him a little busy. chie notices that he doesn’t seem to have as much fun when they work out or watch movies, and yukiko notices the way he starts withdrawing from conversations until he’s standing at the edge of the group, even quieter than normal.

- teddie and kanji don’t notice anything on their own, but eventually those who have started to get worried bring it up with the rest of the group. naoto, of course, has noticed everything, but nothing in yu’s behavior has indicated it’s anything worse than blues about leaving inaba or stress from work

- yu, for his part, realizes that his friends probably know something’s up, but every day he feels less and less motivated to tell them what’s actually wrong. after all, what would he even say - I’m afraid all of you are illusions, and my real friends are already dead?

- plus, there’s the fact that saying his fears out loud would somehow make them feel more real. so instead, he tries to ignore them, and only spirals more

- he starts feeling really scared when he finds himself having the occasional violent thought toward his own friends - if the real yosuke’s dead, why should this illusion get to live? how dare an illusion pretend to be his best friend?

(more specific headcanons/fic ideas under the cut)

- imo, the possibilities for this headcanon are endless. you can take your hurt/comfort as far as you want it to go (personally, I love projecting my mental illness onto fictional characters so full depression/anxiety is definitely on the table), and the timeframe means any fics could be set either before or after he leaves inaba

- personally, I think it could be interesting if he returns to the TV world, perhaps to look for answers or just to blow off some steam, and finds out his shadow’s gotten loose again. which would ofc mean that now he’s trapped in the TV world with no persona, a shadow that for sure wants to kill him, and a dungeon of his own forming around him

- (btw, I know the TV world changes after the fight with izanami, but I think since it still exists and the IT still has personas, they can still have shadows as well)

- this would be an interesting way for the IT to find out what’s really been happening. they would notice yu missing and eventually check the TV world, whereupon they would find an entire dungeon and see yu’s shadow for the first time.

- the dungeon, I think, would have a lot of different elements - recurring rooms from dojima’s house to represent the time loop he was trapped in, an origami version of inaba to represent how everything seems fake, etc.

- as for his shadow, since I love to go full angst, I think it would be absolutely vicious. it represents the nagging belief that everything’s fake, his hatred toward himself for “abandoning” his friends and living a happy lie, and his hatred toward the IT for being illusions meant to replace his dead friends

- as a result, it would try to kill yu almost immediately after manifesting and attack the IT on sight. this would be particularly devastating for yosuke - he only found out that saki hated him (x to doubt, I’m still not convinced she actually didn’t like him but that’s another post) through her shadow, so being immediately attacked by yu’s shadow would be heartbreaking

- yu’s shadow wouldn’t feel any need to explain itself to an illusion, so it would just silently and violently attack him with a look of pure hatred. which would be a confirmation of his worst fear, that yu secretly doesn’t think of him as a partner or an equal, and in fact doesn’t even think of him as a friend.

- but of course he would soldier on, determined to save yu even in light of his “true” feelings. the rest of the IT would also bring up the fact that they don’t know the full story yet, and there could be a reasonable explanation for why yu’s shadow is so violent

- since I love to make my favorite characters suffer, I also like to headcanon that eventually yu would let his shadow kill him. or at least almost kill him, since the IT busts down the door before it’s too late, but at that point he’s unconscious and in no shape to accept or reject his shadow

- (he didn’t accept it before even though he knew he should because he didn’t want to accept his violent urges toward himself and especially toward his friends)

- so basically the IT just has to grab yu and run. I was thinking this headcanon through and my brain was like ‘why not throw in some extra souyo angst,’ so a barely conscious yu might pull a reverse uno card on yosuke and sacrifice himself to protect him, unwilling to let his friend sacrifice himself again

- which would ofc make things even worse for yosuke. aside from the obvious, there’s the confusion arising from the fact that yu’s shadow tried to kill him, but yu himself was willing to sacrifice his life for him

- either way, I think yu would be barely alive by the time they make it out of the TV world. from there it’s just a matter of him recuperating enough to go back in and accept his shadow, which is complicated by the fact that essentially being split in half across two dimensions is definitely not healthy.

- there’s plenty of angst in the recovery process, but this post is already super long and I wanna get into some of my other thoughts

- just a quick aside, I think as a perhaps less angsty headcanon yu might just be extra averse to yosuke sacrificing himself after they win against izanami, especially in the animated version where I think only yosuke sacrifices himself instead of all of their friends

- so the next time yosuke tries to sacrifice himself for yu he’d get an earful, maybe even accompanied by a breakdown where yosuke realizes how badly he scared his partner during the fight with izanami

- anyway, I also have a fun night in the woods-type idea relating to this - after yu leaves inaba, nothing seems real to him to the point that it actively breaks down his mental health

- it’s only when he returns to inaba or is with someone from inaba that the world doesn’t just look like a grayscale mesh of unsubstantial shapes

- which could lead to something interesting if yosuke (or your yu narukami pairing of choice) comes to visit him at his college dorm and finds it an absolute mess or barely decorated at all with a depressed yu inside, or if yu drops out of college entirely to return to inaba, baffling his friends and family because he was at a really good college and had a great future ahead of him, or if he returns to inaba and is terrified to find that sometimes it’s in grayscale too, or-

- the point is I’ve thought a lot about this and I love both persona 4 and night in the woods so I think it’s fun

- there’s also plenty of potential for yu to just break down and tell his friends what’s wrong in the real world before he leaves inaba, which could make for a great hurt/comfort oneshot

- all in all, I think yu would have definitely been traumatized by living in a time loop for who knows how long and there’s a lot of potential there. (don’t ask me about what I think would happen if margaret hadn’t gotten him out of the time loop cause that’s an even longer even darker post. or maybe do ask me)

anyway, I know the souyo fandom probably still isn’t exactly popping off but I hope anyone who finds this post enjoys it!

#persona 4 #souyo #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #souji seta #headcanons #fic ideas #this has been in my brain for so long y'all believe me this is the short version #long post #tw suicide #tw depression #tw anxiety

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oldsoulnewperspective · 3 years ago

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It involves taking a huge risk of treating yourself as if your worth were not open to debate,

Just read this and thought you might relate: It can be argued that many forms of OCD come down to a fear that lack of vigilance could lead to a loss of identity.

Moral scrupulosity is, thus, obsessive concern with whether or not one is being good or bad.

More to the point, this perfection must be constantly proven beyond the shadow of all doubt.

Compulsions, that is, behaviors that OCD sufferers engage in to feel more certain that their fears are untrue

They could be simply measuring their moral integrity against the certainty that they are being “healthy” in romantic relationships

Mentally reviewing/checking for acts to determine moral integrity

Self-punishment to prove moral concern

You could assign a list of moral guidelines to follow that are consistent with your cultural context, and you can even convince yourself that confidence in this list (as opposed to some other list) is warranted. But at some point, you are still going to have to decide whether or not you trust your own judgment, your own memory, and your own self-talk. Though everyone is entitled to a reality check now and then (as in, “come on, it’s not that big a deal), repeatedly reassuring oneself to get certainty always ends up colliding with the wall of reality, that something may be getting missed.

OCD is a battle of uncertainty tolerance

proving that im being “healthy” isn’t the goal.

Improve uncertainty tolerance

Violate the expectation that uncertainty about morality is intolerable

Improve ability to commit to value-based behaviors despite unwanted thoughts/feelings

For now, consider this – OCD is driven by compulsions, behaviors you engage in to make yourself feel certain that you, in this case, are moral.

Learning to live joyfully with uncertainty, even about your inherent “goodness” as a human being is the best strategy for beating OCD and feeling good about yourself. OCD uses the fraudulent concept of “bad person” to con you into trying to prove you are otherwise.

“That was bad. I am bad. I shouldn’t be bad. I’m a failure. I am wrong. I hurt people. I am a deviant. I am dysfunctional. I must prove otherwise. I must be good.”

o “mind less” that these thoughts and feelings arise is to take a huge risk that you haven’t tried hard enough to be moral, that you could be wrong. Maybe this thought is the one you were supposed to wrestle to the ground and pummel! Being mindful is viewing OCD as simply a storyteller that weaves thoughts together to trick you into forgetting that they’re just thoughts, and viewing it this way is the ultimate exposure.

Putting it more simply, moral scrupulosity is a form of OCD that emphasizes a fear of being immoral or morally contaminated.

If you have moral scrupulosity, making a big deal out of every real or imagined moral misstep doesn’t seem like magnifying. It seems like compensating for bad behavior. People with moral scrupulosity tend to purposely blow up their real and imagined transgressions as a form of compulsive reassurance that they are taking ownership of wrongdoing (and therefore must be supremely moral).

Since moral scrupulosity is, by definition, an obsession with self-worth or “goodness”, it should come as no surprise that OCD promotes these painful feelings as bait to start doing compulsions. Guilt proves nothing. Recognizing that feelings are not reliable evidence of facts can take some of the power away from OCD’s claim.

If our efforts to be perfectly certain about morality cause us to be compulsive, and ERP asks us to scale back that behavior, then we are going to feel, well, less moral in a way. We may try to compensate for this by engaging in self-punishment, being extra unkind to ourselves to make sure we aren’t getting away with anything. If I can at least prove that I feel bad (i.e. guilty, disgusted, self-hating) about real and imagined moral failings, then I am at least somewhat liberated from worrying about being immoral. Put simply, self-criticism is a compulsion. It often gets overlooked because we tend to think of compulsions as feeling good. In reality, compulsions simply feel better than what we imagine the alternative to be and beating yourself up sounds better than taking the risk of finding out you’re a bad person later. If only it worked.

If treating yourself badly proved you were good and proving you’re good freed you from your OCD, I’d be all for it.

You have a thought about something you did or thought about doing, or felt an urge to do, and so forth, and because this experience doesn’t line up with your presumed identity as a moral person, you feel bad. Because you feel bad, you try to get the feeling to stop. You may seek reassurance, try to make sure you’re not doing bad things, check to see if you have, and engage in other compulsions. You set up a series of rigid rules that apply only to you to guarantee you’ll never do a bad thing, but since these rules are impossible to follow perfectly, they also make you feel bad.

What’s worse, ceasing to feel bad makes you feel like you’re getting away with something, like you stopped caring about your moral compass. Bad feelings at least reminded you that you care and reassure you that you would never intentionally be immoral. So, you find yourself trying to get away from the pain of bad feelings while at the same time clinging to those bad feelings for proof of inherent goodness. Ultimately, this compulsive relationship to moral doubt sends the message to your brain that thoughts about morality are codes to be cracked, problems to be solved. So, the brain faithfully performs its duty to help you by sending more intrusive thoughts and feelings your way.

But for ERP to be at its most effective, you have to expose both to the fear that you may be morally imperfect and also to the fear that you have inadequately addressed it. ERP for contamination fears involves exposing to triggering experiences (E) to generate the feeling of being dirty, but then intentionally behaving like someone who is clean (not washing hands and also cross-contaminating to other objects and environments). So, you get the dirty feeling, but you pair it with the behavior of a person who feels clean.

Catch and abandon any mental review of the event, especially any rationalizing over why the event occurred or why it won’t be repeated

Seek no reassurance about the meaning of the event or your characterFully engage in the present by actually allowing yourself to enjoy something (mindfulness is a major asset here). Remember, OCD wants you clinging to guilt, so embracing a joyful moment is an act of rebellion.Find activities to do that you imagine people do when they believe themselves to be good, innocent, or having served their time.

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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Hi lovely! I’m not sure if your requests are open but I just worked out for the first time since ive gotten super depressed! It might not be that big of a deal but can I get some geadcannons on how the brothers would react to this? (: (their lover working out for the first time in months because of their mental illness)

I respect this so hard and am super proud of you. I have similar struggles so it always makes me happy to see someone able to get back up. Good job :) These headcanons will be short because I’m getting ready for bed and have to get into school mode, but here you go! ♥

Lucifer

It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake you up, or even gently start the day by sitting at your bedside and whispering sweet nothings

He opens the door soundlessly, as always, and is quite surprised to see you in the middle of doing a yoga series. Thankfully, your back is to the door

Pride blossoms in his chest and, for the first time, it doesn’t feel heavy like the burden of his sin

It’s warm and joyful and feels like an old memory of the Celestial Realm, a call back to happier days

His eyes mist over a bit but no one can confirm it

Lucifer is a perfect, beautiful statue that watches for a few poses before slowly inching back towards the doorway to peek around the corner

Pretends like he never saw anything when you go about the rest of your day, but is absolutely glowing when he looks at you.

Lavishes you in his fancy praise, as always. (”You look enchanting, my love. Simply radiant today.”)

Mammon

He’ll deny it to the day he dies, but he craves your company.

Actually, he’s more likely to admit it when you’re in a depressive episode because you’re tender and vulnerable and that’s how he really is when he lets his guard down. That’s when people need the most love, and you’ve put him back together so much that he wants to repay the favor 1,000x fold

Mammon’s very surprised to see you running careful laps up one set of stairs and down the set on the other end of the hallway (that explains why it took him so long to find you).

It’s like speed walking. He watches for a lap and a half to make sure you’re not rushing off anywhere. You know, making sure nothing’s serious

When he realizes you’re exercising in earnest he’s super stoked. Like, #1 hype man.

“That’s my human! Yeah!” Mammon becomes your cheerleader

Drops sly comments about how it’s actually a good glute workout and he’ll give you a massage afterwards

Keeps up with you more than you’d expect (models train hard, okay?) but does get bored. Maintains cheer position

Carries you around the rest of the day when your legs are sore

Levi

Levi had to do a fair bit of research on depression when he realized you weren’t converting to being a fellow otaku shut-in

The two of you still enjoyed cuddle times, and sometimes he could engage you in games, but the health of his beloved was important! Humans couldn’t be without exercise for too long or it would be bad for them

It’s super awkward but he tries to invite you swimming and things. Sometimes you just don’t have the energy. He understands, and is totally down for cuddling you (with partial back rubs) while playing games

Makes sure you eat and definitely splits his rations

Enjoys the small walks from his room to yours, and makes sure you guys drift between them a couple of times a day. That helps humans, right?

Levi realizes fairly quickly that you haven’t been to his room in a while and goes to check on you

You’re hopping in patterns across the floor, slowly making your way to his room.

You look like you’re having fun!

He’s not sure what you’re doing, but you hop, you squat, then you lunge.

You lock eyes with Levi mid-lunge and wobble a bit. He’s a little pink in the face, but because he’s laughing in sheer delight at how spooked you looked.

You end up flopping over and Levi crouches beside you, offering his hand

When he hears you finally had a burst of energy and wanted to work out, to start over again, he’s very proud of you

May or may not have compared you to Henry and shared some of the more harrowing moments the hero went through (also how he’s awesome and came back better than ever!)

Invites you for a swim and you actually accept

After some laps and splashing about, you spend time floating and cuddling

Satan

Depression is sometimes just a thing humans go through, Satan is finding out.

Between Devildom books and human books, he kind of understands

It’s a thing of time, and sometimes other methods help. He personally thinks the lack of sun in the Devildom is the main culprit

Gives you healthy snacks and tracks down vitamins

Tries to get you to walk the gardens but realizes he can’t force it

Sometimes he gets you outside, reading under trees and lanterns

Satan roamed the House of Lamentation, intending to steal you for another outside reading session, and was surprised to find you out there already

He watched from a high window, peeking tentatively from behind the thick curtain, and let the amused smile cut his lips

Suddenly, you disappeared out of sight. Satan waited for what felt like ages until the logic of ‘the fastest way between Point A and B is a straight line’ kicked in. He held his book carefully, unlatched the window, and jumped out

Demons have good joints and sturdier bodies. The drop and landing was nothing for him.

He calls your name and starts walking around.

It’s not until he’s made a full lap and you’re giggling (behind him somehow?) that he realizes you’re just leisurely walking laps around the house

Super embarrassed that he got worried (and that you ended up behind him). Jumps when you touch his shoulders or if you hugged him around the waist

You’re happy and...yourself for the first time in a while and Satan’s heart is so happy. Before you can break the hug, he twines his fingers with yours and just holds your hand to his body

Eventually you break away, kiss his shoulders, and start a game of tag that turns into sky-watching, and laying on his chest as he reads

Asmodeus

He knows how to break hearts but he ALSO knows how to fix him

He’s always trying to get his brothers to hang out and make good memories. Despite what he says and how he acts, he really cares for them from the bottom of his heart

You count, too. You’re like, top tier. Basically family. VIP space. Maybe SPOUSE space (but that’s too fast for a human, right?)

Though rare and private, Asmo has his bad days, too. They can either be fixed, or they can’t. Usually things are just distractions. The heart will heal in its own time.

Asmo went to your room with the latest round of pampering but stopped short of announcing himself. Does he hear...music?

Nudging the door open with his foot, his eyes light up so pink the gradient is disappearing.

You’re dancing and humming, making faces at yourself in the mirror.

His heart clenches with a beautiful pain because you’re so vibrant and lively and he knows it was hard for you to find this again

The pampering is abandoned for an impromptu PRIVATE dance party

Silly and sweet things, waltzing and just being close, hugging as you sway side to side

Lots of forehead kisses and pet names.

Beelzebub

He didn’t think your behavior was out of the ordinary since Belphie slept a lot.

Beel is always motivated by something--food, sports, working out, family stuff--so he’s not familiar with the lack of desire to do anything

When he learns you’re not just catching up on sleep and you might be having a rough time, he asks Lucifer and Satan what to do

They decide you should work out. That releases endorphins in humans and that sounds like what you need!

The attempts don’t go well, but you’ll at least come out of your room and be a resistance weight for him

Beel went into the weight room to do some pre-warm up exercises. He was mentally planning his reps and figuring out what muscle groups were on the schedule when he heard the clinking of weights

His brothers had other ways of working out so that meant only one person could be in the weight room

Beelzebub stamped down the urge to rush in and watch you in all your occupied glory, reminding himself you could drop a weight on yourself (or worse)

His purr gives him away

He’s proud, borderline excited, and just purrs long and loud from the entryway

Jumps into the workout with you, doing light exercises

Beel gets a little playful adjusting your posture, but it’s all sweet hugs and rocking you back and forth

Regardless of what muscle groups were on the schedule for the day, it’s arm day because he’s lifting you up, throwing you a little, and catching you in his arms

Give this happy, snuggly boy some kisses

Belphegor

He can sense your state of mind by the nature of his sin. He sleeps a lot and has a knack for telling when someone’s sleep is anything but restful

Belphegor’s not 100% sure, but he thinks he can tap into your dream space. There’s this little ball of sad-tired-something that lets him know you’re not okay

There’s quiet mini-dates that ease the sting of your sadness, but he knows it’s not enough

When he sleeps, he has dreams about you being happy and hopes he can push them into your mind

Cuddles fix things. He’s down for couple naps.

Belphegor goes in and out of sleep; it’s during one of his periods of waking that he notices you’re not there

Hugging his pillow, he shuffles about the House of Lamentation to find you

He finds you cleaning and organizing the kitchen. Cleaning is a sign of healing, right? Lots of movement?

Belphegor realizes you’re doing more than cleaning. You’re stretching and lifting things like they’re Beel’s weights

It looks time-consuming, and like you’ve been at it for a while

Belphie plonks his head on your shoulder, asking how you’re feeling. He’s got that sleepy Cheshire Cat smile

You’re just as happy as can be, happier than he’s seen you in a while, and you celebrate by stealing a bunch of snacks and making a blanket fort in his room

Hope you liked it :)

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yourwakingnightmares · 4 years ago

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Scott Summers Character Study

Okay, does anyone else have those characters that they don’t follow full-time, but they always come back to? Kind of like that old sweatshirt you keep: sure, you have new ones, and they’re great, but that old one is just comfortable, and perfect.

Scott Summers has always been that character for me; like, sometimes I might go months, or years without writing, or looking up anything Scott Summers related... Then something happens, and boom. There it goes, I’m on a roll again. And so... Here we are with my rant of the day.

Buckle in folks, this is gonna be a long one.

I think a lot of people have dismissed Scott as a character, saying that he’s ‘flat’, or ‘one-dimensional’. And if you only periodically glance at comics, or peruse through the movies, I can see how you’d come to that conclusion.

Because unlike Logan (who I do enjoy, this isn’t an anti-Logan post), whose story is easy to follow, easy to understand, Scott’s story is nuanced; it’s something developed over time, with small hints and glimpses thrown in.

For example... what we find out is that Scott is the way he is, because Xavier made him that way. Xavier needed a leader, but he was stuck with Scott: a boy who had lost his parents. A boy who’d suffered from a horrific brain injury. A boy who’d been experimented on, and mind-raped by Nathaniel Essex, also known as Mr. Sinister for Scott’s formative years following his brain injury. A boy who escaped a sadistic telepath, only to end up in the hands of an abusive criminal.

So what does Xavier do? Well, he smooths out those edges; he puts subtle compulsions to turn Scott into the leader he needs him to be. He takes the edge off of the worst memories, and turns them into something distant; something that Scott can look at like a movie starring someone else as the traumatized kid.

Now, don’t misunderstand me: Scott was a brilliant leader. He had the tactical ability, the logistical knowledge to be a leader, even without Xavier. Which is what makes what Xavier did that much worse.

Because what that means is that Scott could’ve gotten there on his own; he could’ve been that leader without Xavier screwing with his head.

Xavier took a kid who needed a home, who needed stability, who needed therapy, and said, “Aha! I know a quicker route! Screw that other stuff; that’ll take years to be effectual! I’ll just do a bit of mental landscaping, and wall off the emotions he felt; I’ll just take the edge off those memories! Surely, nothing can go wrong!”

Looking at Scott’s relationship with Jean from this perspective also sheds new light on it: Scott’s mind had been violated by three telepaths, all of whom had only their own goals in mind. Mr. Sinister, Jack Winters, and Charles Xavier all were concerned more with Scott as means to an end, than they were with Scott himself.

Enter Jean Grey. A young girl, who is a freak even by mutant standards. She struggled to keep her telepathy under control, and we’re frequently shown in comics, books, and even the movies, that she picked up stray thoughts from almost everyone, leading to some very embarrassing moments for everyone. She was an outcast among outcasts.

Not to Scott though. When everyone else is worried about keeping their thoughts locked up tight around Jean, when everyone else is avoiding her so she doesn’t accidentally read their minds... Scott embraces her. He falls in love with her.

And I don’t think we truly ever look at why. Because here was a kid who had every justifiable reason to hate Jean -he’d spent roughly half his life being a plaything for telepaths, people who plucked out things they didn’t like, or added things they wanted. Out of everyone at the Mansion, Scott truly had the best reason to fear and/or hate Jean; out of all of them, Scott best knows the dangers of having a telepath rooting around in other people’s minds. But he doesn’t. Instead, he falls in love with her.

Why? Don’t misunderstand me, they had things they loved about each other in their relationship, but how did it even begin? Why was Scott so open and accepting about Jean’s fragile control over her telepathy in their teenage years?

Because he’d never had any say in who played in his head to begin with. To him, Jean’s accidental slip-ups were nothing compared to the other telepaths he’d interacted with. While everyone else saw Jean’s powers for what they were (an invasion of their most sacred thoughts, accidental or not), Scott was so screwed in the head that it wouldn’t have crossed his mind to be angry or upset about it.

This isn’t to malign Jean, or her and Scott’s relationship; after all, Jean hadn’t done anything wrong either. But it casts a rather dark shadow over the beginnings of their relationship.

But why does Scott become so enamored with Jean? To the point where, after her death, he marries a woman who -although he doesn’t know it -is quite literally a clone of her?

Because Jean was the first telepath who didn’t screw with his head; probably the only person who truly knew what was going on in Scott’s head, and didn’t run screaming. Although he would later meet another, for many years, Jean was the only telepath Scott had had in his mind who didn’t remake his mental landscape.

And think about it: how many people would’ve been comfortable having a lover who literally knew what you were thinking, 24/7? That’s not being mean, that’s just pragmatism: we rarely share our innermost thoughts with anyone, and yet we see that Jean was as comfortable in Scott’s head as she was her own.

We see that Jean’s death devastated Scott; for the first time, he went against his programming. For the first time, we start to catch glimpses of Scott beyond what Sinister, Winters, and Xavier created.

Now, what Scott did to Madelyne was wrong; there’s no two ways around it. However, what can we learn from this, when viewed in context with everything else?

Following Jean’s death, Scott acted like a man who’d lost a piece of himself. He starts searching for his past (finding his grandparents in Alaska), where he meets a woman who is practically the physical twin of his soulmate. Within months, Scott proposes, and they get married, eventually having a son (and we won’t even get into the fact that Scott allows Madelyne to name his son after a man who nearly broke him).

As an adult, these actions can only be looked at as selfish, and reprehensible. But what if we look at it through a different lens for a moment.

These actions would be considered ‘normal’ by teenagers, and young adults; hell, most of us went to school with couples whose story emulated Scott and Madelyne’s. Scott’s first and only girlfriend dies tragically, and he decides to try and learn more about his past -for the first time since his parents died. He meets a girl, rebounds hard, and gets married quickly, only to realize what most adults already know: rebounds never work, and never last. Looking at Madelyne was a benefit at the start, but as time went on, it became a knife in his chest: she was the physical twin of Jean, after all, but she wasn’t really Jean -in fact, Madelyne and Jean had very little in common beyond the physical.

Any healthy adult would have understood this; that physically looking like someone doesn’t mean two people are the same. While this doesn’t excuse Scott’s treatment of Madelyne, it at least gives us a reason. He’s acting out, searching for his origins, and falling in love with a girl who looks like the only person who loved him for who he was. Just like a teenage boy would do.

Now, again: this behavior is unacceptable. As a society, we teach boys this, and they learn through experience. It’s a life lesson -however, it’s one that Scott never got to learn. Scott never got to be a teenage boy; he never got the chance to learn, because Xavier had turned him into his perfect little soldier who never questioned him from such a young age (and prior to that, his only consistent interactions were with the men who abused him, mentally and physically).

Later, we see Scott with Emma Frost -a woman most consider to be a villain, a woman who had fought against the X-Men before. Why?

Well, firstly, let’s consider the implications that Scott chooses another relationship with a female telepath. Sure, with Jean, we explained why they ended up together, but by the time Scott meets Emma, he’s older; he’s more experienced. Why does he put himself in a relationship with someone with the same telepathic abilities as the men who nearly destroyed his very sense of self as a child?

We have to remember that, at first, Emma simply offers to telepathically counsel Scott; to try and piece together the shattered void of his mental landscape. Meaning that Emma was the first person at that point to see the emerging Scott Summers -Jean knew the Scott that had been created, manipulated, and ordered around by Xavier, but following Jean’s death, we start to see glimpses of the real Scott. And Emma is the first telepath to get to see inside Scott’s head, as he starts to throw off the remnants of what Xavier had turned him into.

And she starts to fall in love with him. Unlike with Jean, there are no demands or expectations in place; Emma accepts him for who he is. He questions his loyalty to Xavier? Emma’s okay with that. He questions who he actually is? Emma offers to help him find out.

(Please note: this isn’t knocking Jean; she was as much a victim of Xavier as Scott was, in her own way).

But for the first time, we see Scott Summers start to come into his own; we see him making decisions, expressing opinions, expressing wants and desires outside of life as an X-man. We see him show doubt of Xavier, we see him struggling with who he actually is, and who he was made into.

And Emma... Emma just accepts it. She accepts Scott for who he is, with no agenda, no pressure, not expectations.

Moving a head a bit, let’s look at the action that turned Scott into one of the most reviled comic characters: his killing of Charles Xavier, while under the control of the Phoenix Force.

Now, you can look here for my opinions on Xavier, and why I think we should’ve all been celebrating his death. But let’s look at this for a moment.

Most people’s reactions to this were ‘Xavier raised Scott! Scott was like his son! Scott was one of his first students! How could he?!’

I think the better question, when we look at all the events in Scott’s life is... how did he refrain that long? Xavier’s betrayal of him was so much worse than Sinister’s or Winters’ because Xavier did it as a friend. As a parental figure. Sinister just rewrote, erased, or destroyed things in Scott’s head as he pleased, simply for kicks. Winters’ used his -admittedly limited -telepathic abilities to force Scott to help him steal.

But Xavier saved him from that, right? Xavier gave him a safe place to stay. A place with no more experiments, no more mind-control, no more pain. He earned Scott’s trust, gave him a home, a life, and a purpose.

Only... he didn’t. Xavier betrayed Scott, in a way that Sinister and Winters couldn’t have done. Because Scott didn’t trust them. He trusted Xavier, and Xavier fucked with his head just as badly as Sinister had done. Whereas Sinister and Winters had taken a sledgehammer to Scott’s mental landscape... Xavier just chiseled away at it until it became something he wanted.

I’m going to end this here, because really, there wasn’t much of a point to this post, other than to detail out a lot of thoughts that have been kicking around for a while. If you agree, or disagree, I’d love to hear it.

#Scott Summers #x-men #Charles Xavier #Jean Grey #Mr. Sinister #Emma Frost #Character Study

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thattimdrakeguy · 4 years ago

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Can I just say, that fandoms can be very worrying, I respect everyone’s opinions, but it’s hard to not be worried when some people who make such asses out of themselves, ruin their relationships and health, over just something that they like, consistently. Because it becomes less of an interest and more of a worrying obsession when they reach certain behaviors. They’re hurting themselves all the time, but they don’t really notice or recognize what exactly they’re doing.

I’ve seen some people get so obsessed over their own view, that they convince themselves of things that aren’t even true, they yell at people when they don’t agree or just when someone else might think only mildly differently, lashing out sometimes at their own friends because of similar things, and just seem to be so worked up that it’s reaching a point it’s ruining their general health.

And most of the time it’s just over fiction.

That’s obsession. Obsession isn’t good for you, guys.

Fandoms are supposed to be fun, talk honestly about things, not conduct themselves in some ridiculous frantic way that hurts themselves and people they might interact with.

Some of those people I’ve seen become more defensive after they don’t get a good reaction from others, like they can’t understand what they’ve done. To the extent that I think they might be genuine.

The amount of obsession some people get over fictional things is obscene, and I’ve said it before, but I really want people to know that there’s a point where if you act in such a way like this over fictional things, you are just harming yourself.

Don’t ever do that to yourself, please.

You’re hurting your mental health, and potentially others or more when you start showing dangerously mentally unhealthy behaviors like this.

It’s so freaking important to recognize yourself before it gets worse, because people put themselves into such stress, and anger, and lashing out at strangers over this stuff, when that shouldn’t be your first act or thought to do. You’ve reached a dangerous level of obsession at that point.

Lying to yourself, becoming increasingly rude at people, constantly angry, lashing out, having frantic moments of having to convince yourselves of things that aren’t really there, is unhealthy about anything. It doesn’t have to be comics, if you catch yourself doing this about anything, and you’ve gone too far with yourself.

Catch yourself, console yourself, calm yourself enough, and then console in your friends. Back away from what ever you’re obsessing over, and learn to hopefully control how far you’ve gone.

I understand that it’s a very difficult time in the world right now, people are clinging to things much more often because people don’t particularly feel like they have much else when they have a specific life, or life situation. So it’s a understandable, and for some even relatable experience.

But people just keep hurting themselves and others. I’ve seen it on so many occasions just today and I haven’t even been awake for more than little over 2 hours. Star Wars, MCU, DC Comics, freaking WWE, and Doctor Who. I’m not even in these fandoms in an active way besides Bat-Family, and I’m not particularly interactive with it besides my own blog, I just see these specific things all the time. Just in tweets when a certain thing trends, sometimes posts, sometimes what people share with me, sometimes just in the tags here on Tumblr.

I want you guys to be healthy. I do not give a single crap what it’s over, fandom or not, obsession is just dangerous in what ever way.

Seeing it more and more often is just so freaking worrying.

And while it’s not as if I know if anyone that’s likely to see this post has been through that obviously, I just hope you guys are okay.

When you get too worked up over something, you can ruin your whole day, or even week or month depending on how you react.

It’s harder for some over others, it’s all different, but all the same we need to make sure we’re all staying healthy one way or another, both physically and mentally.

Some become genuinely committed to it too and sort of glorify it. That’s not common, or at least I hope so, but I have seen it.

Make sure you guys are okay.

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

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A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 7 - I’m On My Way

With fatigue, she leans on the wall for support and stands, weakly stumbling to the sink, refusing to look at her reflection in the mirror as she bends over and turns the faucet on. She gets soap from the dispenser on her palm and rubs both of her hands together before holding them under the water to rinse them, and immediately after that, sticks her face underneath, hoping to rid herself of the foul taste still very present in her mouth.

She spits minuscule pieces of undigested food into the sink, letting the cool water run over and wash them down the drain without another thought. The sickening stench of bile sitting in the porcelain bowl almost has her gagging once more, so she reaches over, pushes on the little silver lever, and flushes it down into the sewer pipes, never to be seen again.

Only then does she look at herself in the reflecting glass hung over the sink, not surprised when she sees dark bags under her eyes and unnaturally pale skin, no doubt results from lack of sleep and getting hit by an extreme wave of nausea so suddenly. Her lip trembles from the exertion, her eyes distant, stressed wrinkles creasing her forehead. What is happening? Why is it happening? Why are such terrifying thoughts invading her subconscious each time she goes to sleep?

Perhaps she can blame this one on the news she received yesterday, but that doesn’t explain the strange symbol. Why would she draw such a thing? What does it even mean? And what about the buzzing noise? It’s accompanied each dream she’s had down here thus far, and it made itself apparent before and during she was heaving her lungs out yesterday. It also started when she saw that figure in the woods earlier. Is it connected to something?

She rubs at her eyes listlessly and pushes herself away from the sink at once, switching the light to the bathroom off and wandering back into the living room at a pace much slower than normal. Her eyes trail up from the floor to Marshmallow, who sits on the arm of the couch, eyes narrowed as he stares at her with dilated pupils. Maybe this should worry her; after all, animals can sense things that humans can’t. But she can’t bring herself to care very much. She just wants it all to stop. She doesn’t want to be sick 24\7, or have nightmares far worse than what’s considered healthy, or be on the look-out constantly for something that’s possibly hunting her down.

She flops onto the couch rather sluggishly and runs her hands through her messy hair, gaining sight of the large symbol that she seemingly sketched onto the paper for unknown reasons. Come to think of it, her hand is beginning to cramp due to how tightly she had been holding that pencil after she woke up, and who-knows-how-long before then. Does she have an illness? Is there medication to cure it? Should she go to a doctor and explain her symptoms? She’d prefer to wait and get medical attention, if it is necessary, once she returns home, so she won’t burden her grandparents with her problems and cause them to worry.

She knows for a fact that her parents wouldn’t give it much thought if she told them she needed to go to the doctor, nor would they be very concerned. If she told them the reason, having hallucinations, nightmares, irrational and paranoid thoughts, insomnia, they’d probably call her behavior ridiculous and refuse to allow her to make an appointment. Or would they? She is still their daughter— surely they couldn’t just brush aside something like that, right?

Then again, her father did it with the murder of his sister and the disappearance of his nephew, so she can’t ever be sure. But what about her mother? Isn’t the whole maternal instinct thing still there with her? If her child was hurt or scared, isn’t it natural to be worried?

She glances over at her phone, still sat on the coffee table charging, unable to rid herself of the sudden thought that creeps into her mind. Somebody to talk to would be nice. But would she actually listen?

Sure, her grandparents are just upstairs, but not only does she not feel like making that trek all the way to the second floor, but both her Nana and Pops are likely fast asleep. They've done more than enough for her already, and they have enough stress on their shoulders as it is. She wants to avoid troubling them with anything else and make them unnecessarily frantic about her health, both physical and mental.

Reaching out a hesitant, mildly trembling hand, she unplugs her phone and unlocks it, scrolling to contacts and swiping her thumb along the screen until she sees 'Mom'. Should she really? What if she disturbs her? Or wakes her up? Even if she did, that shouldn't be an issue once she hears about her daughter possibly having some mental illness that needs to be fixed.

Mental illness is a strong way to word it. She shakes her head, continuing to stare at the call icon that pops up once she clicks her mother's contact. It's just... stressed hallucinations. Or... or strange coincidences. Yeah, that's all.

Letting out a soft sigh, she presses the green button and brings the small device to her ear, hearing it ring several times as the anticipation in her heart grows. Is this a mistake? Should she back out? Maybe she's making a big deal over nothing.

"Hello?" She sucks in a sudden breath, heart rate increasing as the familiar voice meets her ear. How should she start this?

"Um... hi, Mom." Clear anxiety is present in her tone, though she hopes that it isn't as noticeable as she thinks.

"Y\n? What is it?" There's a hint of irritation hidden in that sentence, but the girl tries to ignore it and instead focuses on the reason she called her in the first place.

"Y-yeah, uh... I need to talk to you."

"About what? You know I'm busy. If it's more questions about your father, you know I—"

"No, Mom, it isn't about Dad." She's silent a moment as she hears her mother's soft breaths over the line, trying to collect her thoughts and put them into words. "It's... it's about me."

"...Well? Did you make another painting or something?"

She shakes her head, though she knows it can't be seen. "It's... weird things that have been happening to me. I-I don't know what's going on but it's really getting to me, and I feel sick and tired and stressed out. I don't know what to do."

"What exactly has been 'happening' to you, Y\n?" Her hand tightens slightly around her phone and she lets out an inaudible sigh.

"It started out with bad dreams... really bad dreams. Of people being dead, or freaky voices, or strange markings in a tree. A-and I've been seeing things in the middle of the night, or even in the day. I can't sleep because it's so scary and I'm afraid that when I go to sleep I'll have another nightmare..."

"Y\n," An exasperated sigh erupts from the other end. "aren't you a little too old to be scared of bad dreams or the boogeyman?" It's as if a knife is shoved into her chest from the harsh words of her mother, and she fights the tears stinging her eyes, attempting to keep her voice steady.

"Mom, it... i-it isn't like that."

"You used to complain to me all the time about bad dreams when you were a kid. You aren't a kid anymore, Y\n. You're almost seventeen."

"It's more serious than just dreams, Mom—"

"Grow up. You're a teenager, Y\n. Act like it." The girl swallows hard and lands her hard gaze on the floor, unable to stop the tears from slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"You're not even listening to me!" She keeps her voice in a whisper but raises it slightly to make sure she gets the older woman's attention. "This isn't some stupid childhood fear. It's something bad, and it's really affecting me..."

"I don't have time for this. I have about a weeks' worth of papers stacked up on my desk and I have to do them. You'll get over yourself eventually and stop being so childish. Goodbye, Y\n." Before she can say anything else, a beep is heard before the line goes dead, signifying that her mother hung up. What else was she expecting? Sympathy? Concern? Reassurance? She should've known better.

"Fine," she snaps, slamming her phone down on the couch beside her and releasing a huff, "who needs you anyway?" She plants her face into the palms of her hands to stifle the quiet whimpers emanating from between her lips. "I have myself and that's all I need. You're just a... a useless, irresponsible, incompetent piece of crap for a mom." Her fingers run through her h\c locks and she shakes her head, trying to compose herself. "Why are you even a mom..."

Of course her mother would blow her off. Her very own flesh and blood, brush her aside as if she means nothing to her. It's what she's been doing for years now, so why would she expect any different? I'm stupid. I'm stupid for assuming she would be worried. She doesn't care about me. She just doesn't care. She never does.

Soon, her shoulders are shaking as sobs wrack her body. She has to go through this alone, doesn't she? Her parents won't help her, her grandparents don't need that kind of pressure. None of her friends, if she can even call them that anymore, can help her. And they wouldn't. She's the one that left them behind, and they owe her nothing.

She shakily stands to her feet, wiping away the tears with the back of her hands in order to clear up her vision so she doesn't trip over anything, and begins her ascent up the stairs, not caring to bring her phone and instead only turns off the lamp as she passes it by. She walks warily up the staircase, doing her best to avoid looking anywhere but the ground for fear of seeing something lurking in the darkness until she reaches her bedroom, thankful that the light was left on previously.

She's unsure if Marshmallow will even follow her this time and bring her some kind of company, though, considering the aggressive way he was acting just minutes ago, she highly doubts it. Her gaze falls onto her bed, then onto the window that it's attached to, unable to quell the rush of anxiety that goes through her chest. The last time she was in here, she saw... something. What was it? A trick of the light? No, surely not. It was too... strange to be a trick of the light. Not to even mention the droning that formed in her mind while she looked at it. The same kind of droning that was present in her dreams, and at the river with Jack.

Is this normal? If it was, you'd think there would be more talk about it. In blogs, on the news, in books. But she's seen no such thing. Shaking her head in dismay, she steps farther inside, edging her way toward the window and anticipating what may be standing on the other side of the glass. She takes in a deep breath, hoping to calm her nerves a bit and brace herself before peering around the corner, over past her bed, and straight through to the dark woods across from the cottage.

She scans the treeline, her heart rate slowing down when she doesn't find anything out-of-the-ordinary and releases a puff of air she didn't know she was holding in, her muscles relaxing slightly. Nothing. There's nothing, so maybe, she can actually go to sleep without having to worry about anything creeping around. She doesn't want to sleep, but she doesn't want to get sick, again, either. Although that may happen anyway if she has another unexplainably terrifying dream. She can only hope that she'll get lucky and her mind will give her a break, at least for the rest of the night.

She doesn't know what time it is, and she can't gather up the energy to check. It doesn't even matter, does it? She glances over at her lamp, silently debating on whether she should turn it off to both save electricity and hopefully hide her position to anything that may be waiting outside, or if she should leave it on to give her peace of mind. She hasn't really liked sleeping with the light on, not since she was a small child, but recently it's sounded a lot more comforting than being surrounded by pitch blackness, save for the moonbeams shining in through the window and spilling out onto the floor.

What's better, hiding or feeling safer? Maybe there's a way she can compromise and do both. Her eyes avert around the room, eventually landing on the closet across from where she's facing. Could she do that...? Wouldn't that corner her? But it would be safer than sleeping in front of a window where some cryptic being can plainly see me. She remembers seeing a couple of spare blankets folded up on a shelf, and she could use her pillows as both a headrest and a weak attempt at a barrier. As unappealing as it sounds, staying in clear view of whatever is currently trying to get into her head sounds even less so. Closet it is.

She steps over and opens the door, switching on the light and glimpsing around for a good, somewhat comfortable spot to take shelter in. Under the clothes? No, too tight. In the little cabinet of old, stored things belonging to her aunt? Again, too tight. She decides on the opposite end of the closet, in-between a shelf and the wall, not too cramped but not too open either. And she'd be able to see the door clearly. That'll work.

She grabs the two pillows from off of her bed, plus an oversized teddy bear that had been originally sitting in the corner of the room, untouched, and goes back into the walk-in storage room, placing all three items in her self-proclaimed area of safety, before also taking a folded-up blanket from the small stack and tossing it onto the pillows. She releases a yawn, blinking slowly afterward and shutting the door behind her prior to double-checking the room for anything else she may need, only finding her water bottle, and switches off the lamp.

She sets it on the floor and shifts around everything until it meets her intentions, dimming the overhead light on the lowest setting, then walks back over and sits down, wrapping the blanket around her b\t frame, leaning against the wall, and tucking the large stuffed bear into her side. This is good. She feels secure here. There is nothing that can get in here without her knowing about it first... unless it's a hallucination. Then she can't escape. "I guess that's where you come in, Fuzzy," she mutters, hugging the bear half her size to earn some type of reassurance and consolation she had failed to get from her mother.

She stares ahead of her, at the closed door, waiting to hear something. Waiting to hear the creak of floorboards or the stamp of footsteps, or see the knob to the door slowly twist as it swings open. But one minute passes, then two, then five, then eight. Nothing of the sort happens. She just stays there, her breathing leveling out the more time passes, and she finds herself becoming relaxed. Maybe she should sleep in a closet more often...

She snuggles into the soft, though mildly dusty, coat of the bear, inhaling its old, washed-out scent of vanilla and allowing her eyes to droop. "Protect me if the 'boogeyman' comes in here, alright?" Her voice comes out as no more than a whisper, indirectly mocking her mother's previous choice of words to describe her state before fluttering her eyes closed and drifting off into a surprising, though thankfully peaceful, sleep.

___

His footsteps are almost inaudible as he walks through the darkened forest, his senses heightened due to the gloom around him. He's always more active at night, and it's been that way since... well, since the incident took place, all that long ago. Or was it even that long ago? He supposes it feels longer than what it actually is, probably because off of everything that's happened the past few years. But in reality, it's only been, what... eight, nine years ago? He was only seventeen at the time, and physically, he always will be. If he had been able to fulfill his career choice and live a normal life without meeting her, then he would be around twenty-six.

Maybe he'd have a girlfriend, heck, maybe he'd have a wife, although becoming a doctor takes years of dedication so he doubts that he would have the time to put that much commitment into a relationship. Either way, he would be happy. He wouldn't have to worry about being hunted by some otherworldly entity, or stocking up on the less-than-desirable diet his body has unfortunately given him. He wishes he could have something normal for a change... like pizza. He would just about kill for some pizza, preferably supreme, but pepperoni would work, too.

He shakes his head in disregard at his own thoughts, knowing more than anyone that pizza wouldn't ever happen, just like enchiladas wouldn't happen, or cheese sticks, or even something simple like cereal. It isn't possible, and though he accepted that long ago, he still gets certain cravings for things he used to enjoy. If he even tried eating them, now, he'd be sick for a week. One of the many disadvantages of being him. If only, right?

He checks the map on his phone that Ben had sent him about two hours prior, the direction he was supposed to go marked with bright red ink and making it pretty hard to miss. Let's see, he already passed the river, and he knows she took a certain trail to get to it. Just which trail did she take? He would follow footsteps but there's too much grass obscuring the actual dirt beneath, and even though he can see to a point, his vision has still been drastically altered, so he can't make out any pristine details.

He makes a turn and comes across an overgrown area of the trail he's been sticking with, though it looks like it's already been walked through several times. Up ahead a few feet is what looks to be a dirt road and past that sits a quaint property with a white picket fence, a garden, and a gate. This is the place he's been searching for, right? Guess there's only one way to find out.

Will great stealth, he slinks out from behind the trees, creeping across the natural driveway and up to the house, where he hopes his target is currently resting inside. If she's awake, it would make his job quite a bit harder, and he doesn't want to take any lives if it's unnecessary. Once he's directly in front, he scans possible entry points that wouldn't draw attention. A window? Sure, if the front door isn't locked. He quietly jiggles the knob after opening the screen, only to find that yes, the door is locked. Just his luck, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting it.

He peers in through the first window he sees on the bottom floor, quickly realizing that it leads to the living room. All of the lights are off, and it doesn't look like anybody is currently active. Releasing a silent breath from his nose, though instantly being hit with a familiar bout of hot air thanks to his mask, he slips his fingers beneath the rim, briefly tugging upward and being grateful when the window slides up without much struggle.

There's a table placed in front of it, but he can easily maneuver over that. Conquering obstacles is something that he's mastered over the years of breaking and entering other peoples' households, so one measly table shouldn't halt his process too much. With one hand, he holds the strap of his satchel that's been thrown over his shoulder in order to anchor it to his side to make sure it doesn't make any noise, and with the other, he grips the side of the wall, skillfully propping himself up and slipping through the now-open space lacking so much as a thud.

Once his feet hit the carpet beneath them, he does a quick one-eighty of the room, wanting to make sure he isn't disturbing anything by making his appearance, and closing the window when he deems the coast clear. She never mentioned anything about having a dog, or any other kind of pet when he talked to her, then again he didn't exactly ask her about it, either. Maybe he got lucky this time.

Thought too soon, Jack, he thinks as he finally notices the fluffy white feline perching on the back of the couch, ears folded back as it quietly growls at him. Of course it's a cat. It couldn't have been a bunny, a gerbil, or even a ferret, no. It had to be a freaking cat. When he was still human, he was never particularly fond of them, but now he hates them with a passion. They get under his feet when he's trying to work and trips him, they scratch and bite him, they latch on and it takes a lot of force to get them off. Granted, he can and does get rid of them pretty easily, but they're still obnoxious little creatures.

But he has to admit, as bad as cats are, dogs are even worse in these types of situations. At least cats stay quiet. Dogs, however, he can't get dogs to shut up. Especially little ones, like Chihuahuas and Pomeranians. God, those things love barking. How could anyone want to put up with something that isn't even cute barking constantly? He isn't Smile's biggest fan, but he puts his barking to use. And he never gets in his way. At least he can respect bigger dogs for that very reason because they actually protect rather than just yap all the time.

He huffs, brushing the insignificant thoughts aside and walking farther into the living room, ignoring the growls of protest from the cat attempting to defend its territory and making it very clear to Jack who this place belongs to. Not that he cares, he just wants to get in and back out without much trouble. As he passes the couch, something catches his attention. Not only is there a phone lying discarded on the cushion, but there also seems to be a pencil, and beside it is a sketchbook.

He leans down a bit to get a better look, seeing and instantly recognizing the large symbol drawn—or more like scribbled— on the piece of paper, completely overriding the original picture beneath it. Not much care seems to have been taken while it was being created, which is normal if it was made during the frantic state that he imagines it to have been made in. It's been apparent to him that Y\n was being greatly affected by him, but now she's to the point of drawing his symbol, his mark? That isn't good. His stomach does an uncomfortable flip, and he spins around, going up the staircase of the house after making sure there are no bedrooms down here with him.

The hallway on the second floor likely leads to various rooms, his only problem is looking discreetly into each one and identifying his target. He chooses to check the first door on the left, the door inexplicably wide open, only to find a nicer than average girly room. He assumes this to be where Y\n is sleeping, but to his slight surprise, he doesn't see her in the bed. Well... maybe she's staying elsewhere? But why would there be bags on the floor if there was nobody staying inside? Is this someone else's room?

He peeks back out into the hallway, seeing what he recognizes as a bathroom unoccupied right beside a closed door, likely one leading to another bedroom. And at the very end of the corridor is a door also closed. Which one of these rooms leads to her grandparents? Is he even in the right house? He has to be. Unless he's just conveniently landed himself in the home of another individual that's being mentally tormented by the ominous creature, which is highly doubtful. They would know about it.

He hears the sudden squeak of a door as it opens, and just barely catches a glimpse of a masculine figure stepping out into the hallway before he darts back into the previous bedroom, ducking for cover inside of what he assumes is a closet. He closes the door softly behind him, being careful not to make any sound whatsoever, and takes a step back, only just starting to notice the dim lighting around him. He tilts his head up, seeing a light bulb attached to the ceiling, and confirming that it's the source of the light. The question is, why would the closet light be on when virtually every other light in the house is turned off?

Looking back and into the small walk-in closet, he sees a figure curled up in the corner, bundled up in a blanket and hidden behind the clothes hanging in front of her. She's holding tightly onto what looks like a large teddy bear, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is mellow and steady. She's asleep. Good.

He's been getting to her. She must've thought the closet was safer than anywhere else. He eases closer to her, squatting down in front and making sure to not wake her up. Getting a better look at her face, he can tell that she most certainly is the girl he's been trying to find, and quietly opens his satchel, sticking his hand inside and pulling out a needle and a small, clear bottle of a powerful anesthetic. It isn't his go-to method, usually, he would use Midazolam or even Chloroform, but then again, he isn't currently trying to sedate one of his victims, he just wants to knock her out long enough to bring her back, all without harming her in the process.

He sticks the end of the needle into the lid of the glass container after properly sanitizing it, draws the correct amount needed for the injection, and puts the bottle back into the bag. He snaps his fingers in front of her face in order to test how deep of a sleep she's in. It would be hazardous if she woke up as the mediation was being given to her, it would also be mildly frustrating and make his job even more strenuous. Thankfully, her eyes don't even flutter, giving him the leeway he needs to lightly take her arm, twist it around, stretch it, and stick the end of the needle through her skin.

He notices when she flinches, but only slightly, and he begins to inject the sedative into her system. He had no trouble locating a blood vein, as he could hear the blood coursing through her arm from several feet away; yet another ability he possesses that makes people fear him. Most could compare him to a vampire, what, with his unnaturally sharp teeth and his constant craving for human blood. It isn't his fault, it never has been. But he's learned to accept it, no matter how disgusting it may be to others.

His intention is that it will keep her knocked out for around two hours, preferably four or five, in case he runs into any delays. This particular bottle of medicine is the only one he has that causes longer-lasting unconsciousness without any life-threatening symptoms, and he got it by mixing Propofol with another mild, over-the-counter drug with lengthy repercussions. Perhaps not the best thing to use, but oh well, it's all he has at his grasp. He isn't actually a doctor, no matter how much he may be treated like one.

He slides the needle out of her arm, places it into a Ziplock bag, and puts the bag into his satchel, looking down at her when he senses movement. She rubs the area that the drug was injected through, eyes only half-way open as she brings her arm up to her chest, likely wondering where the small twinge of pain came from so abruptly. He stays still, waiting to see if she'll notice his presence or just go back to sleep. It won't be too much of an inconvenience, either way, considering the medicine should be taking effect in the next couple of minutes.

She blinks slowly, shifting around in her position to get more comfortable, and landing her bleary gaze on the startling figure squatting directly in front of her. Letting out a strangled gasp, she tries to crawl backward, though the wall pressed up against her back prevents that and gives him the opportunity to reach out and force his hand against her mouth, muffling her yelps of protest. He can almost swear that her skin gets pale as she takes in his unusual features; a reaction he isn't phased by at all. He's a monster, right? It's only natural to fear him.

She grabs at his wrists, attempting to push him away and twisting her legs out of the blanket covering her body to try and get a good kick in. Only when she frees her legs does he lunge forward and straddle her, stopping any attempts she may have made to harm him, and looks directly into her wide, panicked eyes with his black, tar-dripping sockets.

"Calm down," he instructs in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, putting more of his weight on top of her as her striving to escape gradually increases. She thrashes, pulls at his arms, punches his chest, though he makes sure to keep his neck craned back to avoid getting hit in the face. Even with his mask on, offering a layer of protection, it wouldn't exactly feel good. He knows this from experience.

She tries screaming and yanking her head out of his strong grip, though fails, and can't stop her eyes from watering from the utter terror that rushes through her.

"You're okay, just calm down." He keeps his tone gentle, knowing the thoughts that must be racing through her mind at lightening speed and wanting to make this easier on himself. The faster the drug works, the quicker he can get out of here and go back to the base. She doesn't listen to him, either that, or she's physically incapable of listening with the erratic beating of her heart thumping in her ears and briefly deafening her.

They both sit there for another couple of minutes, her struggling getting weaker the groggier she gets until eventually, her eyes hesitantly close and her body goes limp. Before he does anything, he needs to make sure that one guy—probably her grandfather— went back to bed after using the restroom. Jack knows he was, indeed, in the bathroom because he heard the toilet flush from the other side of the wall, though he didn't hear any footsteps.

Stealthily, he stands to his feet, walks out of the closet, and looks out into the hall just in time to see the bedroom door close softly. Perfect. Now hopefully it will all continue going as smoothly as it has been so far. He returns to the closet, taking her hands and pulling her motionless body up, and wrapping his arms around her torso before she can fall back down. Making sure he has a firm hold on her waist, he bends down, allows her body to drop over his shoulder and across his back, before standing back up, tightening his grip around her and quickly adjusting to the extra body weight as he turns and steps out of the closet.

Hoody never told him to grab any of her things, so he assumes that he'll take care of that himself, even though he's not sure how. Is he going to sneak into her house to take them, or just get one of the girls to pick up a whole new wardrobe? Those questions are meaningless right now, he supposes, and he doesn't let it take up too much of his time before dismissing them altogether and making his way cautiously down the staircase, the girl slung over his shoulder making it a little more difficult than it normally would be.

His hand slides down to her thighs as he comes up in front of the door, and he uses his other one to soundlessly unlock it, not willing to go back through the window with the unconscious girl and take a chance on alerting the other members residing in the household of his presence, drop her, or both, so he opts to go harmlessly through the door. Twisting the knob, he eases the door open, then the screen, inwardly wincing when it lets out a rather loud and obnoxious squeak.

Not wanting to stick around and take any chances on being heard, he hurries out onto the porch, softly shutting the door and screen behind him, and quickens his pace once he's out of the yard and through the gate. He scans the treeline, making sure there's nothing insidious waiting for him inside, before taking his original path and pulling out his phone. He clicks on Hoody's contact and presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the ringing to stop.

"Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I got her. I'm coming back now."

#Creepypasta #Marble Hornets #reader #Creepypasta x reader #Eyeless Jack #Hoody #Brian Thomas #Jack Nichols #Slenderman #the Operator #Operator symbol #Eyeless Jack x reader #Creepypasta fanfic

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rant-2-me · 3 years ago

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My mental state has just worsened over the days, though I'm not sure why, and I just feel so unmotivated and lacking any energy to practice any self care other than napping, and also feel anxious because I'm not studying enough.. feel like I'm just 1/4th assing my responsibilities.. And when someone asks me how I'm doing, sometimes I blurt out that I'm not fine, and the guilt I feel afterwards for making them worry, so I find myself withdrawing from initiating conversation with them, even though I really want to, and this makes them worry about me more.. I just don't know anything anymore, everything feels too much, yet I can't rant in a clear conscience without feeling guilty for bothering them, and thinking how I don't deserve to complain because they have had so much worse (yes I know pain is relative, but I feel so horrible, like a whiny child, who doesn't know how to be content with her blessings)......

Sorry I know it's a lot.. feel free to delete it if it's triggering or making you uncomfortable in any way... I just needed to get it out..

My lovely nonnie, im so, so glad you sent this ask. and got it all out of your system. yeah this sounds cheesy but like ive been there, with not knowing how to reach out—im proud you had the courage to send this ask. girlboss vibes.

also this ask took a while to answer and im so so sorry about that, but I didnt want to do anything less than the best for you, so let's just jump right in <[:)

Lacking motivation, god I've been there, but doing self care is super super important so here is a how-to, hon.

How to do selfcare when you’re not motivated to:

1. Be a little “gross.”

Gross is in quotes because it’s so subjective, but you undoubtedly have a few behaviors you consider kind of gross regardless. Now’s the time to do them without judgment. For me, that’s meant showering less, eating weird food combos (sometimes in bed), and letting my brows and mustache grow magnificently unruly. For you, it could mean doing something you normally judge yourself for or cutting back on activities you only do for the benefit of others. Now is not the time to allow “socially acceptable” behaviors to rule you.

2. Eat whatever the hell you want.

This should be a rule always, but I’m not going to pretend there aren’t societal, social, and personal pressures that go into why we eat what we eat. Try to shut down the voice that judges or polices what you’re eating right now. We’re in the middle of a goddamn pandemic. If dinner has to be some slices of cheese and deli meat eaten in front of the open fridge, so be it. If you have a lot of cravings and are snacking more than you normally would, cool. If pre-pandemic you decided you were going to stick to a certain meal plan and it’s just not happening anymore? Don’t beat yourself up.

Yes, what we eat is connected to our mental health, and I don’t want to discount that—but if the stress of eating healthfully is making you feel like crap anyway, whether that’s because you can’t fathom cooking or don’t have the means to shop for certain foods during isolation, just eat the sleeve of Oreos and try again another day. It’s okay.

3. And wear whatever you want.

Or, more realistically, wear whatever you can. Even if it means wearing the same ratty sweatpants for a whole week. Or month. Maybe you started all this out aspiring to get dressed every day to work from home productively, or maybe you have a whole collection of comfortable loungewear you feel guilty for not utilizing. Whatever arbitrary rules and expectations you’ve set for yourself, you can throw them out.

On the other hand, maybe you need to quiet the voice that tells you there’s no point in getting dressed or feeling presentable. If it helps, by all means, play with your look, wear awesome or weird outfits, do your hair and makeup or whatever activity might feel a little silly given your current reality. In the middle of a pandemic, nothing is a waste of time if it makes you feel good.

4. Use shortcuts to avoid creating chores.

In my first week or so of working entirely from home, I was baffled by just how messy my apartment got. How on earth were so many messes piling up when I wasn’t even doing anything but working, sleeping, and eating? I hadn’t realized it, but a lot of my small tidying routines had become casualties to the pandemic. And, it turns out, slacking on the little ways I pick up after myself every day (such as doing the dishes right after I use them) added up quickly.

Instead of forcing myself to stick to the same levels of tidiness that I used to maintain, I’ve found shortcuts. For example, I use paper plates and plastic cutlery when I feel too fatigued to wash dishes so they don’t sit in the sink for days on end. Or I stick to the same two “outfits” to avoid clothes piling up when I’m too depressed to put them away every day. If you can find a small way to go easy on yourself, even if it feels a little wasteful or indulgent or gross, it’s okay to tap into those shortcuts right now.

5. Be kind to yourself if your place is messy or dirty.

I won’t lie: I’m someone whose space impacts my mental health a lot. Typically, keeping my apartment clean helps keep my mental health in check and letting my apartment get gross makes me feel worse. That’s still true in a lot of ways, but to adapt I’ve been trying to be mindful and accepting of where I’m at. And it’s…helped?

It turns out that taking the pressure off does a lot to mitigate the guilt and some of the other negative mental health effects I usually experience. In practice, it involves a lot of talking to myself. Instead of seeing my apartment turning into a depression cave and immediately thinking, “Oh, God, I need to clean up, this is so disgusting, I’m a monster for living like this, of course I feel depressed,” I go for kindness. I think (or even say out loud because, well, desperate times), “Of course my apartment is a mess right now. I’ll get to it when I get to it. I can handle the mess for now.”

6. Accept your new sleep schedule.

idk anyone whose sleep hasn’t been screwed in some way by all of this. Anxiety, depression, fatigue, pent-up energy from sheltering in place, tech use, new work responsibilities, screwy schedules…pretty much every aspect of our new reality can impact our sleep. Some people are sleeping a lot more, some are sleeping a lot less, and some are cycling through both extremes. Oh, and the temptation of naps! It’s all there.

Trying to maintain a healthy sleep schedule during all of this is a worthy endeavor—and more power to you if you’ve figured out how—but there’s a good chance that it feels impossible.

By “accepting” your new sleep schedule, I don’t mean pretending it doesn’t suck; I mean doing what you can to be gentle on yourself about it. For me, acceptance has looked like watching some comfort tv and reading my favourite books at 2 a.m. instead of staying in bed and anxiety-spiraling about how I can’t sleep. Is it ideal? No way. But I’m not going to waste energy stressing about something I currently can’t control.

7. Give yourself plenty of room to do absolutely nothing.

I’ve given myself permission to do a whole lot of nothing. That includes getting rid of the pressure to be productive and practice self-care, yes, but in a broader sense, it also means not forcing myself to actively “adjust” every day.

Some days, I just need to do nothing but feel my feelings. Or avoid feeling my feelings. Or stare at the ceiling. Give yourself space to do (or not do) whatever you need to.

also, nonnie? my love?

Never feel guilty about telling someone who cares about you when you don’t feel okay.

People who genuinely care about you—and I’m sure they are many—will care if you aren’t feeling good, there are always going to be people who care about you, who want you to be okay, that’s why they ask, why people make rant, why “how are you?” is such a common question.

But if you do need to talk, but you feel like you’ll “burden” people who you do talk to, here’s a guide to ranting.

Guide to ranting:

1. Pick the right person. Someone who’s in the right headspace to listen to you, you could also pick someone who cares about you—if you’re anxiety tells you nobody cares about you, pick someone who “should” care about you in your relationship, e.g: a friend you’ve had for a long time, a friend who’s told a few of their problems, or friend you might not feel close with, but seems very kindhearted and a good listener.

2. Pick the right time to talk to them, so you can have their undivided attention. If they are busy—as most people will be with something—they’ll have a hard time giving you good advice and listening to you. Ask them when they are free, and then ask them:

3. “hey, can we talk? I’m not mad or you or anything, it’s just that I have been not feeling great, and I just want to rant to someone about it.” and “No pressure to say yes, you might have your own stuff to do deal with.” to make sure they are the right person to talk to.

4. It’s ok to test the waters. Start slowly, you don’t have to share everything at once if you don’t want to.

5. You never know how your friend will react to what you say.While you can’t know how they’ll react, just remember that sometimes people’s initial reactions may come from a place of shock, surprise or not knowing what to say. Their initial reaction isn’t always their longerterm reaction, it may just take them a little time to process.

6. Look for ways to take action. Don’t get me wrong, ranting can be amazing for you, but on its own may not solve your problem.

But maybe venting to people isn’t for you. No matter! There are other ways to get out emotions:

Ways to rant without talking to anyone

1. Cry it out— simple and rewarding. When the baggage is just too heavy to carry cry it out. It can help you ease the pressure and ease your mind to think straight after days of holding that frustration in.

2. Work out — easy and fun. tire yourself out and release all the frustration in working out! This is going to be so satisfying for you as you try and punch, kick, balance, lift, and breathe those frustrations away.

3. Clean & rearrange — practical and can be fun. we get frustrated by so many things and one thing that can truly help clear our minds is to have a clean place where we can stay and live for the moment to breathe. Clean your room, rearrange your things and you’ll be surprised by the satisfaction this brings — a signal of a new beginning.

4. Scribble — simple and fun. Make scribbles, doodles, drawings, take a pen or a pencil, and let go. It does not have to be “good” art or professional at all. Just draw whatever comes to heart, sunflowers or clouds or rainbows—anything.

5. Write it down — fun and simple. Let those words out of your head and just live in the moment.

How to fight the lack of motivation.

1. Don't fight the lack of motivation.

If you feel down or unable to muster tons of energy, let it be ok. Be easy on yourself and acknowledge that it's ok to have a dip, especially at this time of the year.

2. Once you have accepted your slump, get to the bottom of it.

Ask yourself, "What is the root cause of this sluggish feeling?" Go deeper than the obvious reasons. Is it related to work? Your personal life? Relationships? It might also just be the weather. Get clear on what areas of your life you're feeling the most resistance.

3. Dig into that area. What is not ideal about this aspect of your life? What would make it better?

Make a list of how you'd like your current situation to improve--and be specific. If you truly can't find a reason to be less than enthusiastic, then accept your feelings and let them pass with time.

4. Take your list of what is missing and go through it.

What is holding you back from being able to create the things that are missing in your life?

5. Get support for creating the life you want.

Do some research and find an expert to help you. Even though they love you, friends and family aren't objective enough, and they tend to give advice that is a reflection of their own life and insecurities.

6. Think of current habits that are contributing to a less-than-ideal life.

Maybe it's fear, laziness, or not having enough confidence. Pick one to focus on.

7. Address this habit over the next 2 months.

They say it takes 28 days to create a new habit, but this varies from person to person. If you focus on it for two months, you are sure to build the neural pathways needed to call it a new way of being.

8. Buy a book, read articles or do some research on this particular behavior or feeling.

Read about the common causes of this habit as well as the proven ways to bust through and work around it.

9. Create a plan around shifting your current habit.

Make sure that changing this habit ultimately helps you move forward in the area of your life that is not ideal. The energy from clarity, awareness and then action will immediately get you feeling more motivated, no matter what.

10. When all else fails: make a list of activities that excite you, and do one of them right now.

Talk to a fun friend, dance around at home, workout, watch a funny YouTube video, tackle something on your to-do list. Accomplishing something will give you a hit of dopamine in your brain. If you're too overwhelmed by your day, sit for five minutes and meditate. Put on some soothing music and breathe.

okay, that's all nonnie, I hope you feel the lust for life in your lungs, please have all my love, i hope this helped, this ask took a while, but it was worth if it helps

and if you need to dont worry to send another ask, if you like spam the inbox!! queen!!!

take care, much love my sweet honey, bye <3

—*putting daisies in your hair as they leave* mod peppermint <[:)

#mod peppermint #ask #anon #rant

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basil223 · 4 years ago

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Queer Girl Rambles pt.1

(If you don’t like long stories that could be said in only a few sentences, skip this. It’s a winding road, so either get in the car and drive with me, or skip the party)

I’m a recently self accepted Queer person. I realized I was a homosexual a little over a year ago and it took a bit for me to be comfy with that. And then I decided I’d download the Her app. It was beginning of lockdown (although if you had asked me then I would have said it was mid lockdown, so I guess this qualifier doesn’t really matter), and I, as a socially out, but familial closeted person decided that talking to women on a dating app might give me a chance to spread my little gay wings.

It took about 20 minutes but a girl, let’s call her Hannah, messaged me. She was funny and actually held a conversation, and Hannah made it very very clear that she thought I was beautiful and that had COVID not been a thing, she would have asked me on a date.

I was shocked, delighted, and baffled. A woman? Liked me? I had never felt desirable before then. No one had ever actively pursued my attention before ~at least, in a respectful way~I was excited.

But here’s some things you’ve got to know. I am a college student. I am a college student who struggles with school. I am a college student who struggles with anxiety. I am a college student who’s main goal is to graduate with possible grades and this is her one try main focus. And most importantly I am a college student who is trying their best.

Sounds normal right?

I get busy, everyone does. Over the next week, Hannah and I seemed to be playing phone tag. One of us would respond, and then along while later the other would. Eventually we exchanged Snapchat’s.

Ok. More backstory...at the time I was taking summer classes, which is essentially a 3 month course jammed into a 4-6 week period. I was taking not only Physicsand Physics lab, but I was also taking Calculas. A class I had failed, in a normal term, twice already. My strengths are not in math or science but I had to take these to keep my graduation date from pushing back. For MANY reasons, it was one of the most anxiety ridden summers I’d ever had. But I handled myself. I’d gone to therapy a few years before, and I had some therapist sanctioned coping mechanisms, and some self taught ones. For example. Spoons. You have 20 spoons a day and you can spend them on whatever you like. Some tasks take more spoons than others, but you only get 20. So use them well. At the time, school was about 15 spoons. Staying closeted during a pandemic and social movements in a southern conservative home took up 4. Which left me about one spoon to spend. Most days this was spent laying on the floor with my puppies or attempting to keep in contact with my ride or die friends. Because that’s one of my self taught coping mechanisms, which may not be healthy or not. But when I reach my capacity, I shut out the world. I cannot respond to texts or calls or, anything. And at this point in my life, my friends understand that. If they don’t hear back from me, I don’t HAVE to worry about upsetting them( I mean I still worry but as I said. Anxiety). At the very least I can just text them spoons and they get it. I try to respond as fast as possible but sometimes things get pushed back a few days.

Anyway, back to the story. We had been snap chatting a bit, at least everyday, but it wasn’t the same. I began to notice that Hannah never seemed to talk about herself. I’d ask her questions about herself but I’d get very little information. And she’d quickly turn the convo back to me. And let me tell you. There is only so much of talking about my own life that I can do. I tried using convorsation starters or asking her opinions on things I had never experience but she had, and...still she gave little information and turned it back to me. It was frustrating, but I accepted it. Maybe she wasn’t as good a conversationalist as I first thought. And another thing I noticed was that she never seemed to be able to chat with me first. I was the one who had to initiate it first. One day I decided that I wasn’t going to message first. A few hours go by and I see on her story that she posted a meme about people not texting people. It seemed weird but I thought, no can’t be about me. The next week I tried it again. The meme was way more pointed and most could argue passive aggressive. I called her out on it, and told her if she wanted to talk to me, she didn’t have to wait for me to do it. She agreed said she’d do that. ~stage whispers~ she didn’t.

These passive aggressive story posts would continue for,gosh a half a year now. If I didn’t text her for a stretch there would be a post on her story about it. It got to a point where I wouldn’t open her stories or even Snapchat at all.

In December I got an internship, which is essentially a full time job and it’s expected I take night classes to accommodate this (it’s part of my major so it sounds crazy but I swear it’s normal). I was anxious and it’s been a huge learning curve. Throughout this time, I would off and on respond to her texts, I’d tell her how the internship was going all that jaz. But there would be days where my spoons we spent and most defiantly not on her. Her call out posts increased. My anxiety got real bad and her posts only made things worse. So eventually her messages sat in my inbox, unread, for 3 weeks. I contemplated never opening them. But I felt bad. I opened them and reexplained why I couldn’t answer in a timely mannor, apologized for the unintentional ghosting, and made it very clear that if she wished to continue texting me, that I couldn’t promis a prompt response. She said “don’t worry about it. I get it. Just remember to text me when you’ve got time!”

Last week J hit, and while Im still not comfy with what was going on in my job and life, I was mentally able to make a rare Snapchat story about getting to pick music at work.

I still didn’t have a lot of spoons to answer her, so her comment on my story sat untouched in my inbox till tonight.

Tonight I found the courage to leave a groupme of people I am no longer friends with. And I opened Snapchat to leave our Snapchat groupchat, when I began to think about Hannah. Because there on her story was another call out post. I had just left groupchat a of toxic people and yet here I was clinging to a girl who made me feel so bad about spending my spoons. Who could not, for whatever reason, have an adult behavior about her feelings and what she wanted and needed out of our “friendship”. I decided I’d remove and block her. I don’t need this in my life.

But her unopened messages were still there. I opened them. There on my screen was Hannah’s response to my week old Snapchat about picking music. The gist of the message? “Looks like your not to busy to post on Snapchat”

All my guilt and remorse flew out the window, and Hannah was immediately blocked from my life.

Why did I wait this long to boot her out? I think it’s because she was the first, and so far the only woman to show interest in me. And I was scared that by blocking her, I was giving up my proof of gayness. Her interest made me feel more valid in my identity.

But that’s the thing. My identity is MINE. And it took my first year of Gay to understand what that meant. I am queer. And that is not dependent on if someone of my sex finding me attractive. That is not dependent of somone giving me attention. I will not be giving others the power to hold my identity hostage anymore

#queer #bisexual #ace???#I don’t know who I am or what I am but I’m here and I’m queer #self thought #ramble #queer girl ramble

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lesbian-ed · 4 years ago

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(I am the 💠 anon) First, thank you for being willing to look at this question! I completely understand if you find you’re unable to answer it, but would you mind indicating you received it either way? (Tumblr often fails to deliver asks I send so I just want to make sure you received it even if you don’t/can’t answer. Thank you!) For you and anyone else who may be reading this: This ask contains graphic descriptions of self harm.

My problem: I’m having difficulty understanding why my mild forms of self harm are a problem. I know we’re taught that they are but it seems to help me more than it hurts. I don’t do anything life threatening and rarely anything that even leaves a mark (I have a disorder that amplifies my experience of painful stimuli so I rarely need to). In contrast, causing myself pain kept me from spiraling into an anxiety attack just last night, distracts me from more disturbing intrusive thoughts, and helps me reach a state of mind where I can actually solve a problem instead of making myself sick from worry or causing distress to my loved ones.

And I know my behaviors are stigmatized by society but I really just can’t see how scratching myself (and only VERY rarely to the point of bleeding) or bending my joints past their limit is any different from people who exercise until they throw up/have very bad muscle aches, stay up all night on purpose, or use alcohol or caffeine or whatever excessively (other than that my actions provide immediate (my best word for this is sharp?) relief and the others are more dull relief and also more incompatible with my aforementioned disorder).

I guess what I’m asking is if this seems reasonable to you? I know my behaviors are unhealthy but so are a lot of people’s behaviors? (And I mean people think it’s terrible if you hit your hands against something to stop an anxiety attack but make jokes about living off no sleep and coffee? Why is what I do worse than that especially since their behaviors probably lead to much worse health outcomes in the long term?)

And since I logically know that you probably also think I should stop/that this is really bad- do you know of any explanations that aren’t just “cutting is bad” (which I don’t do, I know it’s dangerous and could actually lead to an accidental death and I use milder forms of harm to distract of intrusive thoughts about it).

Thank you again for looking at this, and thank you in advance for any advice you may be able to give me.

Hey, there! Sorry for the late reply, I had to sit with this for a bit. I’d like to start with a couple of disclaimers. First of all, I’d like to clarify that I am not a doctor, therapist, or counselor, so please know my advice here is in no way official. Even if this behavior has been helping you, I’d recommend reaching out to a therapist if you can, in order to work on the other things that are leading to you needing these coping mechanisms in the first place. By extension, it’s important to point out that all of the opinions I will state here are just that: opinions. They’re based on unofficial research and personal experience, and are not in any way a replacement for medical help or therapy.

Okay so. I think it’s most important to start by addressing the point you’ve made about people’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. You’re right that things like unhealthy exercise routines, disordered consumption of legal or illegal substances, unhealthy sleeping patterns, unhealthy working schedules, etc are all examples of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Self harm can also be an unhealthy coping mechanism. None of these are better or worse than the others. They’re just several ways in which people will self harm in order to try and stay afloat in regards to other debilitating symptoms of issues with mental health.

So yeah, you’re right that these things are sometimes seen as acceptable... But they shouldn’t be. Not because all self harm will lead to suicide (in fact, people who self harm often report they were not aiming to commit suicide), however it can lead to the development of bad habits, which can become addictive, and in the long term lead to worsening health issues, either physical or mental.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, meaning, just because these bad coping mechanisms are seen as acceptable, it doesn’t mean other bad coping mechanisms should also be accepted. We should strive for treating the mental health issues that lead to overwhelming emotional states, which lead to self harming, in whatever way it may present. The main issue isn’t that you’re self harming, the self harming is caused by the intrusive thoughts, by the anxiety. What needs to be treated are those, first and foremost. That would be the only thing that can actually help with the self harm.

To answer your question about what is it about self harm that is so bad... My opinion, as a laywoman, from my limited understanding of human psychology, is that the worst thing that could come from prolonged and habitual self harm is that eventually you will be teaching your body that these negative physical sensations can lead to positive mental states. So you will exceedingly seek these negative physical sensations, and eventually may become more desensitized to it, needing rougher and rougher self afflicted injuries in order to achieve a calm mental state. Even if you teach yourself that pain leads to good things, your brain still subconsciously knows that pain equals bad. So you’ll have to enter an altered mental state whenever you self harm in order for it to remain sustainable, which might eventually lead to dissociation.

There is a reason why self harm is stigmatized. As humans and animals, we seek to survive. Our survival instinct dictates that when healthy, we seek for the best physical conditions we can achieve. We stigmatize self harm because we shy away from self destruction, even in small doses.

This isn’t to say you should feel shame, or bad. There are deeper reasons for your self harm and like I said the triggers which lead to your feeling extreme mental distress are what should be treated. Your self harm is a symptom of mental health issues that run much deeper. So you could continue self harm for a while, and sure, maybe on the short term it might not hurt you... But it doesn’t actually solve the problems which are leading to self harm in the first place. The only thing that could help that is mental health counseling/therapy.

I’m going to be honest with you, maybe right now, for a while, this behavior isn’t “really bad” as you said. I don’t doubt that it does help you, because self harm is a common reaction to psychological distress. But it won’t fix the underlying problems, sister. And you deserve better than to spend the rest of your life hurting yourself. You don’t deserve to be hurt, not physically, not emotionally, not psychologically. Not at your own hands, not at anybody’s hands. I’m not judging that you do this. I too do this, actually. I know plenty of other women who do this. But we all deserve better, we deserve to seek help, to get help. We deserve to feel at ease with ourselves, and to not want to harm our own bodies.

I’m not a doctor, I don’t know what’s the deadline on how long this behavior will be okay for you. But it seems only logical that eventually you will be training yourself to become comfortable with pain, with discomfort. And you deserve better than that. You deserve to be in a place where your mental health is doing okay, and you can have psychological balance. You deserve to not be so distressed that the only way out of your mind is through bodily self harm.

Not because you’re bad for doing it, not because you’re wrong. But just because you deserve to be kind to yourself. There shouldn’t be anything so bad in your life leading you to want to hurt yourself, even if it’s “not that bad”/”won’t lead to suicide”.

I hope I’ve made some sense, and helped shed some light on the issue.

Here’s some resources on self harm, and some numbers to helplines:

https://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/get-help/a-z/resource/49/self-harm

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/cutting-and-self-harm.htm

https://checkpointorg.com/global/

https://unitedgmh.org/mental-health-support

https://faq.whatsapp.com/general/security-and-privacy/global-suicide-hotline-resources/?lang=en

I wish you a speedy recovery, and that you may soon find healthier ways to cope with the intrusive thoughts and anxiety. Take care. You deserve to.

/Mod A

(ps: this was resubmitted from my personal blog so the whole ask came in one piece)

#💠#answered asks #tw #trigger warning #self harm #tw self harm #mod a #mental healthy #mental health issues #mental illness #submission

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chiimmchiimm · 5 years ago

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❝ 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃 ❞

CHAPTERS “ 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of going to shower alone.

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair)

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 3.4 k

𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: dirty language, lies, serious many concealments, impulsive questioning, Jk tattoos, close, much closer, muscles, biceps, problems, very big problems, new threats, a little open end, future friends, sad conversation, memories, this chapter it is very fluff sorry i saw it necessary.

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: Long time, dear readers, despite the quarantine I have been very busy preparing for the university exams, I have been very busy :( I will try to upload the chapters more often. Great things will be coming, I promise you! Thank you very much for reading and enjoying the chapter! Also, I have uploaded a little gift. It is a small one-shot of Jk being a god. With nothing more to say enjoy reading !!!

“What?” Was really the only thing I could say after listening to the inspector. I frowned in confusion as I glanced between the two men right in front of me. Hyolin formed a crooked smile, then slid his hands across the table, creating an overly irritating screech.

“Do you know Jeon Jungkook?” Asked his subordinate with a raised eyebrow. His neutral expression with a clear condemnation in his gaze directed at me.

"Yes." I nodded with a shrug because I suddenly felt so watched.

“So you know there are clear indications that it is related to the murder of the Julia June prisoner?” His voice was not from an interrogation, it was too stable, transforming his non-innocent question into a direct accusation. Even though my guts churned as I brought back to the present scenes I preferred to forget, I knew how to stay calm enough not to attract attention. However, the discomfort did not stop me from stirring in the chair.

"I don't understand what I'm doing here," I said. The confusion I used was reflected in my behavior through a quick blink and a quick glance at the principal's office.

"Were you or not the companion of the murdered prey?"

"Yes, but ..."

“Then answer that to your question!” His bribed man screamed with an air of grandeur. The irony I wasted on his stooped figure put me in a bad mood. I was startled by the recent screech causing my breathing to increase its course. Hyulin put a hand on his upper back to calm him down. His eyes were bloodshot. He was anxious, restless as if he were desperate.

“You saw someone go out with Miss June the night of the cars?” Hyulin asked. He kept his gaze fixed to get a good perspective of any reaction he might give.

"No..."

“Lies!” A loud clap on the table made him stifle a moan. Hyulin looked at her subordinate immediately, also putting her hand on his shoulder. He gave her a poisoned look as he pointed at me. "You're lying, Hyulin, if you don't even want.”

"Calm down," Hyulin demanded immediately. His dubious waved his hand clearing the way. Afterward, he looked at me again with a tired look.

"Miss London, do you really know what kind of person you are? If you are being threatened or alibi you just have to say so we will put you in a protected witness program."

"Inspector, I would like to help you but it was all very dark, you could hardly see anything." I declared quickly with some agitated stutter. Hyulin stretched her neck up, cutting me with her eyes. After a moment of harsh glances, Hyulin seemed to assume that this was the truth, so she relaxed her body, expelling a disappointed sigh towards her partner. "If that all I would like to return to my obligations I have many pending."

Hyulin waved her hand lazily at the door. I walked over to her but just as my fingers threatened to shut her Hyulin's voice stopped me cold.

"If you lie, it will be much worse to have kept silent than the punishment itself."

"In order and in a row two by two do not force me to repeat it! Kim shit keep training!" shouted Officer Ramírez, quite annoyed at having to deal with a group of prisoners. The uproar was palpable because for some of them it was the first exit since the first time they entered. It turns out that through humanitarian activity they took us to a nursing home to sing Christmas carols. It seemed quite illogical to me at the beginning, that is, to put twenty prisoners with some crimes quite strong in front of a couple of tender and innocent ancients, was crazy. Later, I learned from a prisoner that everything was to wash away the reputation of the director who had been ironically linking with rumors of accepting bribes.

We were boarded in an orange bus with bars on the windows as if that was going to prevent one from jumping off. We were seated in pairs according to the cell. After Carballo's nineteenth threatening talk, the bus headed for the nursing home, which was approximately thirty kilometers away. Of course, they had the delicacy to classify prisoners by sex, women in the right row and men in the left. They even kindly handcuffed us to the seat to keep us from stretching our legs.

And still, I still had a perfect view of Thirteen from my crouched position. So far in the morning, she hadn't spoken to him. And I certainly didn't understand why I couldn't stop my gaze from being drawn to him every time he entered my field of vision. Perhaps it was the intrigue of the previous day. As usual, I had not slept healthy and as always, the fault was the owner of my attention right now. As I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the first night I got here. When I saw Julia leave the cell with him. It was funny how it had passed into the background as new events had happened. And now, when I had returned I had done it like a tsunami devastating all my tranquility. Because even though his attitude towards me had radically changed, he was afraid, very afraid, that he really had something to do with the death of that girl because if it was so. Who told me that the same could not happen to me?

"Hey." A small direct scream in my ear made me jump into my seat causing me to tug on my cuffed wrists. Gemi in a silent complaint turning her head to look at Lucy who greeted me with a worried grimace. "And what about you seems to have seen a ghost?"

"Something like that," I confessed wryly, remembering the annoying visit of the two police officers the day before. Lucy twisted a funny smile and then clicked her tongue and turned her attention again to the view of the desert from the window. "Hey, Lucy ..." when she heard her calling, she looked at me curiously again. "Julia was really the maid. Thirteen before, you know ... "

“What's that for now?” Lucy wrinkled her nose, disoriented by my sudden interest. I bit my lip nervously not wanting to talk too restless.

"You told me." I avoided his question with the intention of shifting his focus. When she nodded uncomfortably, I felt more relieved. "The day after Julia's disappearance when I told you that I had dated Thirteen you became nervous. Some time later you warned me to stay away from him."

"Blair, for your sake drop the subject." She said quite irritated. I frowned at his suspicious insistence. He seemed quite guilty suddenly leaving me with a pit full of questions that wanted to be answered.

"Did thirteen have something to do with it?"

"Blair, shut up," she threatened in a low whisper.

"Why do I have the feeling that you know more than you say?"

“You have no fucking idea of anything, dammit!” The intensity ended up betraying his stability making his scream bounce off the bus. I raised my eyebrows surprised at her loss of judgment not realizing that everyone turned to see us immediately. Instantly, Ramírez stepped between the seats to reach us with a face of few friends. I ended up sinking into my seat as an apology.

“What's going on here?” Ramirez nodded at Lucy in a silent warning. She rolled her eyes as she straightened up in the seat.

—I've got a bug in my nose, I have the fucking period and it's deadly hot on top of it. Do you want me to continue? ”Surprisingly, his annoyed tone does not provoke the same reaction in Ramírez because the man seems to be out of place due to so much information at once deciding for his own good to be mental to get away. The rest of the prisoners who had also turned to know what was happening end up turning too so as not to suffer Lucy's uncontrollable anger.A pair of dark eyes observe the scene from a distance with intrigue. Blair, who sees them right away, tries to respond with a reassuring smile but is only able to wince. He knows from her unhappy look that he will later witness her questions but now he decides to focus on Lucy and leave the almost certain harassment of Thirteen for later.

"I want to believe no." Lucy's sweet voice is a relief after having previously mistreated her ear. Blair stopped looking at Thirteen, averting a sorry look full of regret. He realizes that maybe he has forced things and that they were not the best ways but at least he had obtained the result. "Actually, he is not a bad person. I would put my hand in the fire for him if they ask me to do it And they will ... "

"Do not touch or take anything because I swear that whoever gets caught with a medication or something they did not come with goes to isolation for two weeks without food," Ramírez threatened. We all agreed in agreement although there were a couple of prisoners who decided to start making fun of the couple of officers who accompanied us. For my part, I would have preferred that Brain had come but lately he has stopped going to the pressure not showing up for his usual work schedule. I wonder what happened to him. I hope it is okay. "Take an instrument and if you don't know how to play, well, be careful not to bother because I won't mind handcuffing you in front of the elderly!"

"Yes, mom," Taehyung replied under his breath causing a couple of inmates to giggle. I watched the aforementioned with a tight smile at the temptation to imitate the rest of my colleagues and receive the punishment of Officer Ramírez. I stopped smiling immediately when I noticed as I looked at Taehyung that Thirteen was standing next to him with his gaze fixed on me. Narrowing his eyes as if with that act he could read my mind. I looked down at the ground and with my head hidden between my shoulders I followed the others towards the instrument table.

I sighed indecisively because in truth the only instrument that knew how to play was the piano and it looked like this institution did not have the budget to have decent musical instruments, with only a couple of flutes present and one or the other ukulele. I laughed to myself as I remembered a little me with that in my hand while trying to make a note sound melodic. It had been a good vacation at my grandparents' house, of course, my father had not participated in them, so I added that so that he could enjoy everything he wanted without unwanted interruptions. Reach out to touch the wood of the small object reaching the nostalgic and rough texture of it. I froze when a hand I instantly recognized crushed mine against the instrument. The black-tinted knuckles and the large dimension of it did not make it very difficult to know whose it was. Nor, the voice that whispered in my hatred soon after.

"Are you avoiding me, you little naughty?"

“Thirteen!” I yell in fright, turning abruptly toward her figure right behind me. He almost collided with his chest at its too surprising closeness. However, Thirteen seemed not to feel intimidated by the short distance between our bodies emitting a hoarse laugh at the pale expression on my face. The hand that had previously been under his had magically reached my chest. I felt how the heat established by his hand had disappeared so quickly that I became depressed without knowing why. Going back to reality I intended to back off but I ended up accidentally hitting the edge of the table awkwardly lifting it from its place for a couple of seconds. I place my hands on either side of my body to support the table and prevent it from falling. Not knowing if his gesture was really purposeful, I remained alert. My face turned red as his breath stirred the hair on top of my head. Throwing his body back, he left his face at the height of mine, however, his hands were not moved from the table achieving an improvised cornering. I swallowed nervously as he gave me a sharp look and his lips were wet with his tongue slowly.

“What happened on the bus?” “Oh, there is your questioning. Of course he had approached just to ask. Thirteen raised an amused eyebrow when I smiled wryly. He was curious like the others, really, he had not approached like this to speak. I mean, when had he done it? It was clear that he was taking an interest in his brother, the matter was not for me, but for Lucy.

"We're talking about you," I replied calmly, more than I expected considering that he is practically on top of me. I was quite proud of my upright posture nothing like the pathetic Blair that trembled every time this man was around. Of course, Thirteen raised his eyebrows surprised by my attack of sincerity but that did not make him change his posture in front of me. "We talked about your mania of cornering people to speak especially to women." I said quite amused but to the cutting time. To my surprise, Thirteen began to laugh sweetly, taking my offense as an innocent joke.

"I don't usually corral women to talk because in case you haven't noticed, that leaves them even more mute," he commented with the same irony as me. Despite the tone I express I could perceive that he was playing as usual. I bit my lower lip, tempted to smile.

"You have not left me speechless." I mocked with a stupendous smile of superiority. "Thirteen." I spoke slowly to create a drama that turned into too comfortable a silence. Thirteen twisted a mischievous smile raising his cheek allowing a small dimple that he had not seen before appear. He brought his body closer to mine with a tortuous slowness to stop just a few inches from grazing our noses.

"There are many ways to leave a woman speechless," he muttered hoarsely near my lips, turning the situation would be. I felt his breath hitting forehead warming each end of skin that brushed. His fucking dark gaze that always conveyed the same neutrality seemed completely like someone else's. Despite its blackness, if you approached closely to contemplate the details, you could see a look that shouted many things, not only passion, not only desire, it was more than that, much more. Maybe that was what shocked me, enslaved to her black irises. There was a heyday of mixed feelings. A light and at the same time a terrible and deep darkness that would not let me move forward as if I were part of a wall made for his protection. Lucy's words were still fresher than ever as time passed by analyzing her gaze.

"You're not going to kiss me." I shoved my deepest thought into the light with soft words. Thirteen strained his shoulders almost instantly as if it had been poison he had thrown and not a few words. His gaze hardened and then, it was at that moment, that the great wall that protected his true essence fell in front of me. I probably shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation, but my body was really filled with so much adrenaline that I was acting on pure instinct. "I know that you would never do something like this without knowing beforehand if you wanted to do it. You are not a bad person, who has rotted your soul like that so that now you don't stop thinking about it?"

"You don't know me, Blair. Fucking not." He replied curtly, however, despite his abrupt and harsh demeanor he did not leave me giving me the opportunity to appreciate more closely his gaze lost in an abyss of pain.

"I know," I said simply. I smiled weakly at my bewilderment at having finally deciphered the riddle of his neutrality. "But I don't have to know a person to know when they think they are alone."

His lopsided smile came back in full force, this time reflecting so much bitterness that it was difficult to keep my cool, calculating attitude. It was the first time we talked so openly, I didn't want it to close because I didn't know when the wound would reopen for me.

"It is so obvious?"

"Yes," I confessed sadly, feeling a huge lump in my throat that forced my voice to fade. I closed my eyes when I knew that this time, I would also open my soul. "Because I also have that look."

A finger caressed the socket of my eye, wiping away a tear that I didn't even know had started to run. I just let myself caress succumbing without thinking about the consequences. Just thinking about how good the caresses of his fingers felt. Not in what they will say. Not in itself was wrong. Not in itself it was fine. I just wanted someone to give me the love I had needed without knowing it. When I opened my eyes some time later I was shocked with the scene that was rebelled. She was not the only one who had been crying. And yet it had been so selfish not to notice. A lonely tear ran down her cheek. Reach out and catch it by squeezing its skin weakly. I grimaced as the drop seemed to seep through my skin, digging deep into my heart. As if that single drop transmitted all the pain, I began to feel sad, but so strong at the same time that I couldn't help but think about the ironic situation. It was the first time I had seen him cry, and although he had only shed a single tear, it had been enough. The questions were answered with an invincible pen. The previously recited words brought back. Of course, he hadn't killed Julia. He would never do. Not when I could look at his sparkling eyes up close. And without knowing it, he had long known the answer. Of course I knew it. But I had kept a band in my eyes out of fear. One, who had now fallen to the ground alone after all this. I didn't know what Thirteen was thinking but I could guess he felt the same way as me. An invisible connection unconsciously tied us creating an atmosphere of security that surrounded us with all the strength we needed.

Soon, we found ourselves smiling like two idiots who had found the solution after always having it in front of their eyes.

“Are you going to get that thing?” He asked, nodding toward the instruments behind me. I pressed my lips together and wrinkled my nose. Afterward, I turned around to grab the ukulele.

"Yes, and you should get something too."

"No, you would be surprised to hear me sing that thing that would only overshadow my wonderful voice."

"It's called a ukulele," I said. I laughed in consequence of his strange grimace.

"Whatever."

After being part of the worst show in the history of this poor nursing home, Officer Ramirez gave us two minutes to go to the bathroom before going back to the bus and taking the trip back to prison. Of course, Ramirez did not count that there were only two cabins and all of them were suddenly anxious to pee. Although I don't really blame them those toilets could perfectly outperform any jail seat.

To avoid desperate kicks at the bathroom door, I decided to be the last. Wait about twenty minutes but it really was all worth it. Upon leaving, I washed my hands with soap enjoying another of the luxuries that the prison lacked. I grabbed paper to dry my hands, then threw it in the trash and opened the door to get out.

"Yes, I know," said a voice that I recognized instantly. My heart froze inside my chest. The bathroom door was left ajar, not wanting to interrupt, much less when I could take a look and confirm the two people who were unattended in front of the women's bathroom.

"Hong Kong, you know that with a single word we say goodbye," said his partner, who until then had only ever seen him by his side as a lap dog.

"No, calm down Boy, it won't be necessary to stain us with blood." Hong Kong assured through a calculating tone. Then there was such a terrifying silence that I began to hear the pounding in my heart. "She will do it for us."

"Oh, okay," the other man agreed, laughing wildly. Hearing footsteps walking down the hallway a relieved sigh came from my mouth relaxing against the wall.

"Goodbye, Blair."

nex

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suppressedanxiety · 5 years ago

Note

Hey Pat? Are you feeling okay? I’m sure your meal was delicious, Logan and Roman just have a lot on their minds that’s all

Anonymous said: Noooo Pat ok I wanna be nice, until Virgil becomes big again, all of Patton’s meals with taste 3x better than usual, and all cookies will taste 5x better than usual. On that note, I wanna magic a few chocolate chip cookies (on a plate) to his room, and also a comforting feeling once he enters (because I platonically love my Sander dad and I dont like him being sad) ~💙

@oxylillikay said: With Anxiety still contained, how is Patton doing?

Patton sniffled in his room, wrapped up in a blanket burrito and desperately trying to stave off the negative thoughts crowding the back of his mind. He had paced in front of Anxiety’s room for almost half an hour before knocking, quiet at first and then loud, but to no avail.

The anxious side was still avoiding him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Anxiety for days now, and while normally he would remind himself to be patient and let the other side take things at his own pace, his endurance was running thin.

It seemed like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. Anxiety didn’t respond to any of his olive branches, and Roman and Logan were both withdrawing, going off to do their own important things and leaving Patton behind. Leaving him alone.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve, caught in a cycle of longing for company and hating himself for longing when they had their own lives and duties to attend to. Thomas needed them, all of them, and what was Patton doing? Sitting around being useless and forgetting to help him socialize until it was already too late.

Logan had already started to get suspicious after the study group, and Patton was sure he’d only managed to get through that because Logan was loathe to inspect anything to do with feelings too closely; If Roman began sniffing around the incident, he’d see through Patton in an instant.

Especially since Patton had let Thomas muck everything up so badly.

Sure, he had felt just peachy while the study group was happening, and brushed Logan’s concern off at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the event had gone horribly wrong.

Thomas hadn’t cleaned up anything, feeling self assured in his appearance, even though there was a kind of gross smell emanating from the trash can and he’d already slept in the shirt he was wearing. He’d said a few embarrassing pick up lines to the cute guy in the group at exactly the wrong times, interrupting the flow of the study group and making everyone feel awkward. Patton was terrified that they had all left early because of it.

He couldn’t even get Thomas to apologize properly, because he was hiding all these negative thoughts from his host, keeping any worries about the situation tucked close to his chest.

After all, if Thomas started panicking and the others found out, they’d be so upset with him! They would probably start ignoring him like Anxiety was, and then he’d really be alone, all the time. Forever.

Anonymous said: Is it just me, or does Patton seem like he’s taking over the role of anxiety as well? :0

Anonymous said: So it’s becoming apparent that Patton is being affected with anxiety. Are there going to be any external effects of this like the darkening under the eyes that happened in AA Part 2? (I know this is pre-AA but I was just wondering if the puffball is gonna get some eye shadow).

Anonymous said: But it would take a while to remake everything and the current food would get cold and gross, and what if they came downstairs to eat and there was only gross cold food and they left without eating anything and maybe passed out in their rooms and hit their heads on something on the way down and it would all be because of him?“ That sure is a run on sentence you got in your head there Patton. I’m sure you’re doing fine mentally. That’s a totally normal, healthy thought pattern I’m sure…

Anonymous said: From the sounds of it Patton is starting to have his own anxious thoughts. When he was worried about the others passing out from lack of food and hurting themselves because of it. Is it possible that if anxiety is repressed too long that he would cease to exist and essentially fuse into Patton since he’s the other main emotional side?

Anonymous said: Gee Patton it’s kinda starting to sound like your spiraling? Or developing anxiety yourself? Everything looking ok there bud?

Patton gave in and rubbed at his eyes even though he knew it would only make them all puffy and that would worry the others if they needed him for something and then they’d find out, and-

His increasingly panicked train of thought was swiftly derailed as he caught sight of a dark smear on his knuckles, the ones he’d been rubbing his eyes with.

It was… eyeshadow? But that didn’t make any sense. That was Anxiety’s motif, representing the sleeplessness that often came with his presence and Thomas’s tendency to rub at his eye makeup when stressed or exhausted. It shouldn’t be on Patton, especially not when he hadn’t seen the anxious Side in ages.

Come to think of it, had he slept lately…?

He thought back on some of his behaviors for the past few days, and didn’t like what he saw. He had been feeling increasingly… well, anxious. That would be all well and good if he was a person, but he was a Side. He wasn’t supposed to take on other Sides’ roles, not unless…

Not unless something had happened to them.

Panic hit Patton so hard that his head swam, imagining all the ways Anxiety could have gotten hurt or worse without him knowing. He’d been sitting around moping about his own hurt feelings while the other Side was dealing with something bad enough that he could be fading entirely!

He jolted out of bed, tears blurring his vision, and immediately hit the floor. He was hit with another wave of self loathing. No wonder the others didn’t want to be around him.

… Wait. The others.

Anonymous said: Hm. The boys being evasive around Pat screwing with his head probably is making the extra negative processing EXTRA HARD.

Anonymous said: Patton, don’t you think Roman and Logan have been acting a bit strange recently? -🐌

Were they okay? The two of them had promised to give Patton’s meals to Anxiety if they saw him, but what if they ended up hurt by whatever was hurting Anxiety? What if they had been acting different lately because they were on their way to vanishing too?

He couldn’t let that happen.

Patton pushed himself up off the floor, untangling the blankets from his legs and drying his eyes. He needed to be better than this if he wanted to help Anxiety, help Logan and Roman, help Thomas.

He took a few deep breaths, focusing. Right now, he needed to not be upset. He had to be calm. Self-assured. Happy. Perfect. He had to focus. He HAD TO.

…

Alone in his room, desperate to protect those he loved from an imaginary threat, something in Patton shifted.

#asks #anonymous #blue heart anon #just-some-gt-trash #ncanspeak #snail anon #speech bubble anon #oxylillikay #((hoo boy.))#chrono

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