#actually self-loathing head-shaving can be a depressive thing now that I think about it

[slightlykylie]

You know, I make these depressive posts and post them and then privatize them and then un-privatize them and then privatize them again and then delete them and then make another depressed post 20 minutes later and post it and privatize it and the result is that a couple of my friends might know what's going on if they happen to be on Tumblr at 12:37 and 42 seconds BUT now Tumblr is showing me ads for what are probably wretchedly sketchy clinical trials of depression treatments, so listen, even when you think no one hears you, the algorithm is listening and I think that's beautifHAHA noooope 2021's just being its creepy self

[jackandthesoulmates]

Cabin Birthday

requested by my wonderful mutual @all-4-wincest

Okay my friend, here’s your prompt for your 300 followers celebration!! Congratulations again!!

Okay, so first time Wincest is my biggest kink!! LOL, my AO3 history proves that!

Anyways, Weecest when Sam is maybe 15 (if you’re comfortable with that. If not you can make him older). The first time Dean kisses his baby brother, and oh ohhh wow they both think ‘this is perfect. I finally feel whole!). You can take it as far and as NSFW as you want!!!

Here’s a gif that you can use. I think it’s perfect for a first time !!

word count: 1855.

Read on AO3.

“Dean, how does kissing feel like?”

Dean freezes. He just took out the Winchester Surprise out of the oven for him and Sam to eat. It’s Sam’s fifteenth birthday today and Dean tries to make it as good as possible. Dad’s gone again, ditched them in a cabin deep in the woods. They’ve been alone for days already. 

Sam’s birthday is close to Beltane, a witch sabbat, of course dad is hunting. He’s always hunting when little Sammy turns a year older. 

“Mh, Sammy, that depends on a lot of things.” Dean turns around, carrying the steaming hot casserole to the table. He feels nervous somehow, that Sam asked him this question. It’s an easy question, easier to answer than Sam’s latest question why he sometimes wakes up and ‘wetted’ his boxerbriefs. 

But Dean has to give Sam the Talk, because no one else does and he tries to be as competent, rational and not embarrassed as possible. Sam had seen him with girls already and that even made it worse. The questions. The whys. The hows. 

And that Dean has an aching in his chest, for his brother, that just won’t go away.

“On what, Dean? Please tell me.” Sam’s cuddled up on the couch, staring on the old grainy TV screen. The series is muted. He’s looking at Dean with big, curious eyes.

Dean shows him to sit down at the table. 

“Come here, eat something and I’ll tell you, okay?”

Sam nods. Gets up and takes a seat at the table. His stomach is grumbling, Dean can hear it very clearly. Sometimes Sammy has troubles with eating, when he’s stressed or in a bad place emotionally. Dean notices so much but he feels like he never does the right thing. He never does it right. Sam is still not eating. Sam is still crying at night sometimes. He’s still cuddling up in Dean’s bed when he had a bad dream. 

Dean sighs and fills Sam’s plate. “Eat, please. I promise you I’ll tell you everything you want when you finish lunch. And I have a gift for you, too.” 

Dean smiles at Sam and Sam smiles back. It’s a clouded smile and it’s gnawing on Dean’s heart. He’s been rioting, rebelling for years himself, but Sam is different. He’s calm, he’s sad, he’s somehow dark sometimes. He’s often not here. Like he’s daydreaming. But worse. Far away.

“Just because you ask me to”, Sam says. 

Lately Sam started growing the first facial hair, so far it’s still soft and blonde and patchy, but Dean had shown him already how to shave. Sam doesn’t seem to like what’s happening to his body during puberty. Dean hated it at first, too. 

They finish their meal in silence, because Dean doesn’t know what to say, but when Sam takes the last spoon full of the Winchester surprise he keeps his promise. 

“So, kissing, Sammy. I wonder you haven’t done it already. The girl at school, Linda?, she seemed to like you.” 

Dean has indeed watched his brother and Linda way too closely. How she gave him this adoring glance, playing with her hair, laughing a little too loud, a little too long. Brushing Sam’s hand with hers. And Dean feels a raging jealousy when she does. And Sam smiles at her. 

“Yes, she does”, Sam replies, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “But I don’t want to kiss her.”

He looks up and his hazel eyes burn holes in Deans face. 

“Why not?” Dean asks, standing up and clearing the table. He puts everything in the sink and the rest of the casserole is put in the fridge. 

“I don’t think I like her how she likes me, you know?” Sam sounds guilty.

“Yes, I totally get that. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. That’s one thing about love and the whole thing with, you know, being intimate with each other.”

When Sam’s not looking, Dean sips a beer. He’s old enough to drink but it’s barely late today and John told him not to drink in Sam’s presence. 

But John drank so much himself and he never gives a fuck who’s there. If Sammy’s up, if Dean’s out and gone, and who of his brothers finds him laying in a puddle of booze or - worse - his own vomit. 

“Dee, how does kissing feel then?”

Dean sighs and sits down at the sofa. “Come ‘ere, Sammy I’ll tell you.”

Sam accompanies him on the couch. He cuddles up again in his blanket. It’s still a bit chill somedays in May and they’re quite far up north. Dean considers to light the fireplace. “Shall I make it warm for us?”

Sam nods. “Yes, Dee. I’m a bit cold.”

Dean likes being the man in charge, looking for his baby brother. That’s his purpose he thinks. Nothing else matters but Sammy. And that Sammy is safe. And he will always be as long as Dean is alive. Even if being safe just means lighting some wood and make Sam feel warm. 

It doesn’t take long for the flames to linger and warmth fills the tiny cabin. 

“Kissing, Sammy. I think it depends on who you kiss. I imagine that, when you kiss Linda and you don’t like her that much, it won’t give you anything. But with a person you’re in love with or that, you know… makes you feel very hot and bothered, we talked about that, right? When someone drives you crazy already and then you kiss… you will feel like melting. It feels like hot jolts down your body, actually also cold. Both at the same time. It will feel amazing and breathtaking and you don’t want to stop ever again.” 

Dean turns around to Sam who’s looking right in the flames, cheeks red and lips slightly parted. He looks like he’s daydreaming again. 

“You heard me?” Dean asks.

Sam nods. Slowly. 

“Yah, sorry, I just imagined it.” Sam tilts his head. “Dean, I want to try beer.”

Dean frowns. “No way, Sammy. You’re too young for that and you know.”

Sam’s glance shifts from the fireplace to Dean and suddenly he looks way older than sweet 15. Dean gulps. 

“You started drinking when you were 13 years old, Dean.” 

Dean knew Sam had noticed it. And he wasn’t exactly proud of it. He was a bad influence and an even worse example. 

“That’s true, but you know it also got me in a lot of trouble, too.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “But I’m here with you and I’m not asking you to help me do some funnel drinking. I just want to know why you and dad like it so much.” 

Dean gives in and hands Sam his can of beer that’s almost empty anyway. 

Sam takes a sip and he obviously hates it because he frowns and then swallows with a disgusted look on his face.

“That’s disgusting.” He says and hands Dean the can. 

“We don’t drink it because it’s so delicious, we drink it to make the world less… sharp. Less edges. Less hurt.”

Dean falls silent immediately. That sounds way too serious to tell Sam. 

“Sorry, that was a bit depressing.” 

Sam just laughs. He’s a teenager, he probably understands anyway. 

Then he leans onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels the jolt he just described to Sam and it’s good and bad and wrong and the only thing that makes Dean happy. And feel loved. Then Sam’s hand reaches for Dean’s and they hold each other for a moment. It’s still silent in here, only the cracking of the fireplace makes noise. It feels romantic, this moment. It shouldn’t. 

“You feel it, too. Dee? Please tell me you feel it right now…” Sam’s voice is soft but so brutal at the same time. 

Dean breathes in and out. “What do you feel, Sam?”

And Sam sighs. Loudly and painful. “Look at me.”

There’s no saying ‘no’ for Dean right now. He turns around and sees in his brother’s deep and quiet eyes. 

Sam’s so close now, he can smell the bitter taste of beer in Sam’s breath, sees the spreckles in his hazel eyes. His body heat. Dean’s heart is racing and he feels the jolt of heat and ice running up and down his spine, he can feel the tickling in his arms, like electricity. 

He wants to say “no, please, Sam, don’t make me do it.” but all he manages is a weak “Sammy…” before he kisses his brother’s lips. 

It’s an instant firework around them, inside them, something ignited and is going off at full power, full speed. Burning hot and consuming them. Sam is shy and his lips are trembling when Dean presses his lips on Sam’s, harder. Just a little. And then Sam swings his leg over Dean, sitting on his lap now. 

“No, no, Sammy,... don’t…” Dean whispers. It feels like the worst lie he’s ever told.

“Dee, please”, Sam breathes against Dean’s hot lips. “I want to know… I need to know…”

The world turns upside down. Inside out. And Dean’s arms pull Sammy, his Sammy, closer, kissing him again, this time he can’t hold back his tongue carefully sliding in the other’s mouth. 

Sam moans. 

‘Oh my God’, Dean thinks, ‘I’m gonna die for this.’

It’s a shy, a messy kiss, Sam is clueless and innocent and Dean is full of suppressed desire, full of doubts and self loathing for wanting this. Wanting his brother. 

When Dean needs to breathe, he stops for a moment, panting and his whole face feels like it’s burning off his skull. Sam clings onto him, silently moaning, or sobbing? A shaky little mess on his brother’s lap. 

“Dean, it feels like you told me…”, he says, sniffing. “I can feel it.”

“Me, too”, is all he can say right now. 

His body is raging with all the sensations, it’s almost too much to handle. He can feel his hard member pressing against his jeans and also Sam is clearly excited. 

Dean presses his forehead on Sam’s, both panting and saying nothing more. Sam’s skin under Dean’s palms is hot and slightly sweaty. 

“It’s wrong”, Dean says, he sounds bitter.

“I don’t care.” 

Sam grips him tighter. “I only want to kiss you. Not Linda. Not anyone else. No one makes me feel like this.”

They hold each other on this sofa, the world shrinks to the size of their bodies, there’s nothing else. They’re alone and lonely in here. No one matters, only them. And Dean can’t fight what he’s feeling now, what he had started feeling years ago.

So far, the yearning has only gotten worse. But now it’s found some relief. In Sam’s arms, his panting breath and the sweet moans whenever Dean’s tongue slides in Sam’s warm and eager mouth. 

It’s only a matter of time until Sam’s a moaning mess, mouth watering, eyes teary. Humping Dean’s lap. 

‘Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.’

And then Sam gets up, legs shaky. 

“Please let’s go to bed…” 

Whatever Sam wants. He will get it.

It's his birthday and Dean is lost in his brother's eyes.

*

[artificialqueens]

I Choose You, 2/2 (Vanique) - Ortega

a/n: oh my god HELLO!!!! i thought i’d never finish this in time but the lord loves a trier so here we have the second half of my Vanique behemoth (the first being 2003!). this might be the most self-indulgent and pretentious thing i’ve ever written. who knows if it’s good! certainly not me. i very much hope u all enjoy it anyway.

(p.s. the title is from I Choose You by Kiana Ledé. listen to it it’s very good. the acoustic version, not the one with the rapper feature. that one sucks ass.)

trigger warning: there’s some homophobia in this, both internalised and…externalised (is that a word?), including use of the d slur, so please read at your own risk. there’s also mentions of bereavement but not of any of the main characters. I promise u this fic is not as depressing as i’m making it out to be xo

fic summary: Vanessa Mateo and Monique Heart start Year 9 as entirely different people. At least, that’s what Monique firmly believes. Vanessa suspects they’re not as different as Monique would like to think.

***

High school is high school, and nothing is ever simple. The idea that Vanessa had had about hanging out in Summer was soon pushed to the side. Monique was dropped in favour of hanging out with Akeria and Silky. In all fairness, Monique was too busy riding the carousel of shopping trips and sleepovers at her new friend’s houses. Monét’s house is her favourite though because it feels like a castle- it’s surrounded by a gate with a combination instead of a key and in the lobby there’s a sweeping marble staircase and an actual pillar and an expensive-looking sculpture in the corner. Monét’s parents are kind and caring and they supply the girls with endless snacks and fizzy juice and face masks. Monique imagines it’s like what staying at a hotel is like. She wouldn’t know, she’s never stayed anywhere other than her old house with her Mum, the high flats, or Vanessa’s house.

She feels guilty about not hanging out with Vanessa. They text, but it’s not quite the same; she knows Vanessa hates writing in any format so it’s a little harder. They could phone, but they just…don’t. Still, despite their distance that night at Vanessa’s in the tent still plays on Monique’s mind. The whole thing was weird. Vanessa had wanted to kiss her, and in Monique’s mind that was only something you wanted to do with a person if you had a crush on them. Monique knows what a lesbian is, and she’s sure Vanessa isn’t one. She’s damn sure she isn’t one either. Aside from liking girls, lesbians dress like boys and they have short hair and they’re definitely not as beautiful as Vanessa. They’re different, and Monique is different enough. She isn’t a lesbian. She doesn’t fill any of the criteria.

So when Vanessa comes back after the summer holidays and begins Year 9 with hair that stops at her jaw and an undercut as well as a set of pink traintrack braces, the whispers start right away. Monique hears two boys talking about her at first, as she’s putting her books from second period away in her locker. She hears brash laughter, Vanessa’s name, the words “dyke” and “rug muncher” and “lesbian” all spat out venomously, and Monique’s heart hurts. She wants to tell them to shut up, wants to tell them they’re wrong and that Vanessa is pretty and soft and none of those things. Vanessa is just a normal girl. Hell, the only reason she’d wanted to practise kissing with her was so that she could be good for boys.

It’s lunchtime when it gets brought up again, and by that point it’s all round the school. Brianna starts the conversation mid-chip, speculating between chews.

“Have you guys heard that rumour going around that Vanessa Mateo is a lesbian?” she almost whispers, and Monique rolls her eyes. Not this.

“Oh my God, no! Tell us!” Asia says excitedly, pushing away her plate of suspicious-looking penne bolognese made up of too-soft pasta and too-watery mince.

“What’s there to tell, sis? That’s all there is.”

“She’s in my Spanish class. She definitely looks like a lesbian,” Antonia widens her eyes in disbelief, and Bob cackles a laugh.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Looks like a lesbian. They’re just girls who like girls, lesbian isn’t a fucking…skin tone.”

Brianna casts a glare at her from the other end of the table. “Oh, come on, Bob, you know what we mean. She’s got that haircut and the shaved bit at the bottom. And have you ever seen her wear skirts to school?”

“Gee, short hair and trousers make you a lesbian. By that logic half the fucking boys are lesbians.”

The girls splutter a laugh, which Monique joins in with half-heartedly.

“It’s not just that, though. You know she’s friends with that Akeria Davenport…Silky Ganache. You ever see her with any boys? I wouldn’t be surprised, you know,” Monét shrugs, having seemingly thought it through enough to pass judgement. Asia laughs.

“You never see us hanging out with boys.”

“Yeah, but there’s six of us! There’s only three of them. Maybe they have like…threesomes,” Antonia gasps, her eyes sparkling wickedly. The girls all follow suit, gasping and widening their eyes and clucking like hens. Monique feels sick. The whole conversation feels wrong. She doesn’t want to be part of it any more.

As if she’s read her mind, Monét cocks her head at her. “Monique, didn’t you used to be friends with her? You ever get lesbian vibes from her?”

“Oh my God, yeah? She ever try and kiss you?” Brianna asks, open-mouthed. Monique feels the colour drain from her face. Luckily there’s a shout from the other end of the canteen that cuts the girls off from the conversation they’ve been having.

“Bob!”

The girls stop talking, turn around to see Tomi and Katie standing smiling in that fake as fuck way that Monique loathes. She knows they’re probably behind most of the rumours about Vanessa and that puts her back up even more. Bob seems unbothered, and she’s regarding them in a lazy sort of way. Monique swears she’s seen a lion watch a gazelle with the same expression.

“Yeah?” Bob asks simply, humouring them. The two girls giggle behind their hands.

“We just think your hair is so gorgeous. Can we touch it?” Katie simpers, tucks her blonde hair behind her ears unflatteringly. Bob turns briefly to Asia and gives an earth-shattering roll of her eyes. Monique can feel Monét bristle beside her defensively and she puts a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

Bob smiles indulgently at the rejected extras from White Chicks standing in front of her. “You can try, see what happens.”

Tomi has her hand out and then falters, clearly noticing Antonia glaring at her like she’s daring her. Monique’s never actually witnessed her throwing hands but she knows that’s how she got her detention last year, after a boy in the corridor made monkey noises at her. Tomi clearly decides against it and the two girls curl their top lip at them all instead, slinking away. Bob turns around to shout after them.

“Wait! Tomi! Can I touch your hair? I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be a weak, limp, lifeless, greasy Rapunzel!"

The girls erupt in hysterical laughter, and the rumour is forgotten for now.

Or at least it is until two o’clock in the afternoon. Monique’s not been thinking straight all day and it shows when she turns up to Chemistry when she’s meant to be in English, the lower sixth formers all looking at her as if she had two heads when she opened the door to the lab and had to slink back out again. So she’s running down the back stairwell panicking, knowing she’s going to have to explain why she’s late. The stairwell is empty with everyone already in class, but aside from the noise she’s making as she thunders down the stairs Monique can hear two other voices at the bottom. Two boys’ voices, and they don’t sound kind. They’re spitting out insults, and Monique heard the crash of something heavy against the floor- a book, a folder. It’s against Monique’s better judgement to investigate- she should really get a teacher- but she can’t stand bullies, so she gets to the last set of stairs and peers over the bannister to see what’s happening.

The sight makes her heart drop, because it’s Vanessa. The two boys are yelling at her, blocking her path every time she tries to move past them. She’s not crying but she’s all hunched in on herself, almost concave with her arms hugging herself and her head positioned towards the ground. The boys are relentless with their taunts and Monique can’t bear to hear any more.

"Hey!” she shouts, her voice all too loud in the silence of the stairwell. It echoes and ricochets off the walls, and the boys narrow their eyes as they look up at her. She meets Vanessa’s eyes. She seems just as shocked as the perpetrators. Monique’s started, so she follows it up with, “Leave her the fuck alone.”

The boys laugh, begin to mock Monique amongst themselves. She doesn’t want to play her ace, but as their words bury themselves deeper and deeper under her skin, Monique’s face turns into a snarl. “Or am I gonna have to call my brother?”

The boys seem to make the connection between who they’re talking to and the implication Monique has just made, and she’s happy when a glimpse of fear passes on their face. One of them has the bravery to speak up again. “Your brother won’t do shit, soon as he steps in our ends he’s dead."

"Well, I can always call him and you can tell him that for real. Or, even better…” Monique shrugs, pulling her phone out of her blazer pocket and scrolling it lazily. “…I can have him here by lunchtime and you can say it to his face?”

The boys frown at her and seem to make the mutual decision to let the situation drop, but not before one of them spits on the floor at the bottom of the stairs Monique is standing on. She lets out a sigh. She knows her brother’s reputation precedes him and it’s not a pretty one. She knows he’s infamous and that the teachers were all happy when he finally left, saw the look on all their faces when they reached her name in the register on that first day and could practically hear what they were thinking. Oh shit, that’s his sister. She’s not proud of having used her brother as a threat but as she looks down and sees Vanessa’s kind, grateful smile, she knows it was worth it. Monique wants to hug her, wants to pat her back and tell her that she’s not in any danger anymore and that it’s all okay but she doesn’t because things aren’t the way they used to be. She descends the steps and lets Vanessa pick up her folder, waiting until she’s back up standing with her arms hugged around it and the tiny smile still on her face.

“Thanks.”

Monique wants to blush. She’s maybe already doing so. “It’s okay.”

There’s a pause. Vanessa’s smile wavers and she pulls her lips in on themselves, holds them between her teeth for a moment before letting them go. She looks to the ground awkwardly. Monique wants to say more, she wants to say everything, whatever the hell everything is. Instead she says nothing.

Vanessa rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. It’s just the two of them at the bottom of the stairwell now, and it looks like she’s about to release something she’s holding back. “Uh, hey. You ain’t tell anyone about…you know-”

“No, I didn’t,” Monique replies instantly, firmly. They both know what she means. Vanessa nods curtly. They’re standing alone, nobody else around to pass judgement or start a rumour or look at them funny. Monique wants to just…talk to her. She doesn’t open her mouth again, but she wants to. She can feel her speech rising in her throat, and she’s about to say something. She still doesn’t know what.

“I should get going, I’m late to English,” Vanessa suddenly makes the decision for her, nods at Monique in thanks again before turning on her heel and pushing open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

Monique is left standing there and the silence seems to echo around her.

She goes back home instead of class.

***

Year 10 starts and the unthinkable happens.

Vanessa’s sitting in P.E. at the time. She’s not at all academic- she knows this, it’s evident from all the extra help she gets and how she’s in the bottom set for everything- so she likes P.E. because she just plays sports, tries to win. All the girls and boys in the year have it at the same time and they split off- boys get taken out onto the astroturf in the pissing rain to kick a ball about for an hour and the girls stay inside and do basketball or volleyball, dainty ladies’ sports that make Vanessa mad because she knows she could whoop any boys’ ass at football. Anyway, Monique’s in her set and so are all her friends. Vanessa doesn’t like the girls she’s friends with- they’re too stuck-up for her taste, and she likes the fact that Silky and Akeria are down to earth and don’t have any airs or graces. But she still casts an eye over to Monique every so often, just to look at her. She thinks about the fact they used to be best friends, used to share everything with each other. Her cheeks burn when she thinks about the time she asked Monique if they wanted to kiss. She still hasn’t made herself confront that properly yet, still hasn’t addressed the very obvious elephant in the room of her brain. That can wait for another day, though. Everybody already says she’s a lesbian anyway, she’s been getting flack for it for a solid year now, so she supposes when (if) she comes out she can’t get bullied more than she already is.

Monique’s dark eyes are framed with eyeliner and mascara, and her perfect cheekbones are highlighted with a dust of gold. Vanessa’s jealous. She runs her hands over the spots that’ve bubbled up on her forehead self-consciously, reminding herself to spread more concealer over them when class is over. Monique’s so beautiful and it isn’t fair. Vanessa is so busy thinking and so lost in her own head that she doesn’t even notice their guidance teacher’s arrived at the door.

“Can I speak to Monique, please?”

Vanessa watches Monique’s eyes grow wide as her friends all wind her up and make ominous noises at her as she leaves. Vanessa wonders if Monique’s in trouble. She was always the biggest goody two-shoes in Primary, and she’d always get so nervous whenever Vanessa did something mischievous. Vanessa smiles at the memory but it’s quickly forgotten when their teacher tells them to get into partners and she immediately grabs Silky, leaving Akeria to pair with Mercedes, a shy girl who’s terrible at everything P.E. related and would truly be the booby prize if there was ever a partner-related game show.  

Vanessa forgets about Monique until lunchtime when she’s sitting with the girls in the cafeteria and scanning the hall judgmentally. Her eyes fall on the table Monique and her friends usually sit at, and they’re all eerily quiet. They sit with their heads in their hands, stare into their plates of food and pick at them, and nobody says a word. Monique isn’t there. Come to think of it, she didn’t return for P.E.

“Sheesh,” Vanessa scoffs, gesturing over to them. “Who died?”

It’s a joke she’ll regret making, because all over Monique’s facebook wall that night when she gets home from school is post after post after post of sympathies and apologies and heart emojis and kisses.

Because Monique’s Gran has died.

When Vanessa realises she pushes her phone away, turns over in bed and brings her knees up to her chest. Her head is spinning. All Monique has is her Gran- well, her and her brother, but she’s known so much pain and heartache in her life and all she has ever wanted is a happy family. Vanessa knows this. She wonders what will happen to her. Her brother must be around 19 now, so he could get granted guardianship but God knows he’s never been the most ideal role model. He loves Monique though, deeply cherishes his sister. Everything Monique’s been through, so has he. Maybe Monique will be put in foster care? Vanessa doesn’t know. Everything about the situation makes her feel sick to her stomach. Apart from all of that Monique has to deal with the grief of losing the woman who raised her, who was a mother and father rolled into one.  

Vanessa makes a decision, turns over in bed and snatches her phone back up. Her stomach is churning as she types out what she wants to say. Everything feels wrong and absolutely zero consolation, but she sends it anyway. She has to send something.

V: hey

V: i’m so sorry to hear about your Gran

V: i hope your doing okay

Vanessa stares at her phone for the full five minutes until it vibrates again, lights up with a message from Monique.

M: Thanks

Vanessa’s previously-rising heart suddenly drops. The reply is disappointing, but she doesn’t know what she expected. Monique has lost the closest thing to a parent she’s ever had. It’s not exactly the right time for a cosy reunion. Still, Vanessa misses her. She knows she could help Monique feel better, she was always able to make her laugh when she was sad.

V: i’m always here if you need someone to talk to

V: i know we don’t talk as much as we used to but your still my friend

Vanessa stares at her phone until her retinas start to burn. Is she even Monique’s friend any more? She wonders what they would talk about if they got to talk again, wonders if they ever had anything in common at all. The thought isn’t a nice one, and Vanessa goes to sleep that night with tears stinging her eyes and a terrible dull ache in her heart.

***

Monique doesn’t remember Year 10.

That sounds silly, as day 1 of it was only 365 days ago, but she doesn’t. She’s blocked it all out, bad memories of grief and pain that she’d rather forget. Even though her life has been full of struggles, the last year has truly taken the biscuit and she doesn’t ever want to think about it again.

There are always silver linings, though, no matter how awful the situation is. Monique’s brother is granted parental responsibility and he makes the effort to turn their lives around in whatever ways he can. They apply for a new council house, one in a slightly nicer area, and it has a garden and a number on the door and lots of windows to let in light. It’s the nicest place Monique has ever lived, and the summer before Year 11 the pair of them decorate it with furniture they find at the recycling centre and fix at home, and free stuff they pick up from Facebook Marketplace, and they paint the walls bright colours to keep their spirits up. Money is still a problem, though, but Monique is thrifty. She’s timed when the supermarkets put their yellow reduced labels on food, she can make her one free school sandwich last for lunch and dinner if she needs to. She charges her phone in class so she doesn’t have to use the electricity at home and she knows that if you put rocks in the pockets of the clothes you donate to Cash4Clothes then you get more money for them. They’re getting by- not easily, but they’re surviving.

Monique’s friends look after her, making sure she’s okay on those days when school is just beyond her and the only thing she can do is lie in bed. On the days she does manage into school the girls flank her, surround her like a shield against the staring eyes and whispers of the other kids. She still hears the odd murmurs of “her gran died” and “she doesn’t have any parents” and “her brother looks after her”. She knows they’re not malicious, but they still sting. So she’s glad when it gets to around October and people stop whispering about her and go back to whispering about Vanessa instead.

Because she’s got a girlfriend.

Brooke Lynn’s in lower sixth. God knows how she met Vanessa- probably at a house party or drinking in the park at some point, Monique supposes. She’s tall and statuesque and everyone is afraid of her, partly as a result of her resting bitch face and partly as a result of her intimidating good looks. Brooke is a living Barbie doll- pale skin, blonde hair, long lashes, full pink lips. Everything Monique’s not.

She’s sickeningly PDA with Vanessa. Monique sees them together at lunchtimes; the pair of them holding hands or with their arms around each other as they sit with their two friendship groups merged together- Monique didn’t think Silky and Akeria would have anything in common with straight A students Nina and Scarlet but she supposes that Scarlet’s girlfriend Yvie’s been put in isolation a similar amount of times to Silky so they’ve at least got that to bond over if nothing else. They laugh uproariously and chatter loudly and Brooke Lynn and Yvie eye girls like Tomi and Katie with suspicion and dislike, the two girls not even daring to make a comment about the two same-sex relationships at the table.

Monique hates Brooke Lynn. She doesn’t know why. She’s weird because she’s a lesbian but she doesn’t even fit in with what a lesbian should be with her long, blonde hair, makeup, short skirts. But then again, Monique reminds herself, neither does Vanessa really. They both just look like…normal girls. She wonders how that can be. Vanessa looks so happy all the time even though most of their year group hates her, or at least makes snide comments about her behind her back. How the hell is she so damn cheerful? Maybe Monique is just jealous. Jealous of the way Vanessa has an accepting group of friends and an accepting Mum and is comfortable being out even in school, unlike Monique who has to banish those thoughts to the dark of her mind because of course she’s not gay; she joins in with her friends when they talk about cute boys and talks about the celebrities she has a crush on. But she doesn’t really mean any of it. When she looks at the boys her friends all drool over, she just feels…nothing. She’s wondered to herself about her own feelings, even got as far as typing “girls kissing” into Youtube but closed the app before she could click on a single video, too embarrassed to go any further.

Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s fine, and her Gran always told her that God didn’t make mistakes. So she pushes and pushes the feelings down as Autumn turns to Winter and Spring turns to Summer, and before she knows it she’s finished her exams and is starting Sixth Form. Her brother’s proud of her- he hadn’t stayed in school that long, of course- and her Gran would be proud too. Monique’s sure her Mum would be as well, wherever she is. And her Dad. Whoever he is. Her exam results are decent, and she takes solace in the belief that maybe she’s clever, maybe she can forge a different path for her and her brother than the one she was born into. She’d like to be a nurse- nurses help people, and her Gran was looked after by one before she passed, so she decides that Sixth Form is going to be spent getting the grades she needs to get to university. Imagine. Her at uni. The first in her family and maybe even the first in her neighbourhood.

Still, it’s Sixth Form and she can at least have a little fun. She’s invited to her first house party along with the girls- Connor from Upper Sixth is hosting because his parents are out of town and Bob’s managed to blag them all an invite, so they get ready together and get Antonia’s cousin Shea to get them all alcohol from the off license, the six of them all giggling as they drink bottles of Lambrini in the street on the walk over to the party. When they arrive the house is packed, the music is loud, and everything is dark inside. Everyone already seems to be drunk and Monique finds herself guzzling the cider almost sickeningly quickly as she attempts to play catch-up. She’s surprised that some of the boys start talking to her and her friends. She’s never really received male attention before. She’s still not even kissed anyone; nothing’s changed since she was thirteen years old. Connor is showering her with attention and he’s maybe even flirting and all Monique’s friends say he’s attractive and Monique’s hoping she’ll feel something for him over the course of the conversation she’s having with him in the kitchen, her head all light and the alcohol coating her mouth. Eventually she sees that he’s moving to kiss her and she’s going to say no, turn him down gently but-

Vanessa’s here. She’s in the hallway looking at her, and Monique feels her eyes almost burn a hole in her heart. Her and Brooke broke up in the Summer- it was messy and all over Facebook, and Vanessa took it badly. There’s something to her gaze that Monique doesn’t recognise and she’s not sure she wants to. All she knows is the way she’s looking at her makes Monique focus her attentions on the boy in front of her, pulls him in for a kiss that’s sloppy and way too much and Monique feels nothing, beyond fucking empty inside, but the rush she gets when she opens her eyes mid-kiss to find Vanessa still looking at her is inexplicably exhilarating.

Except when she goes to bed that night she lies on her back and cries silently until she feels the tears stream into her ears. Why couldn’t she feel something for Connor? Why can’t she feel anything for any boy? Why can’t she shake this nagging feeling that something about her isn’t right, made differently to everyone else? She wishes she had Vanessa to talk to. She would know what to say. She’s been through all this already, Monique supposes. But Monique doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to be happy like Vanessa is, she wants to fit in, she wants to keep her head down and not attract any attention and just be fucking normal, normal, normal.

Monique goes to sleep with a damp face and a stuffy nose and a feeling of self-loathing she can’t shake.

This feeling isn’t helped by what she finds when she wakes up on Monday morning. She’s checking all her socials as she’s walking to meet Monét and she’s got three new CuriousCats. The first reads,

Opinions on Asia O’Hara hehehehe

Monique laughs at Asia’s obvious fishing for compliments. She types,

the best friend EVERR and so pretty, ilysm!!!!!

The second one makes her stomach flip over.

did u get with Connor Monaghan on Saturday lmao

She thinks about it before typing and sending her response.

yea lol

She scrolls to the next one and her heart stands still.

Do you like girls

Monique is aware she’s stopped walking; she’s standing in the street like an idiot with every muscle and bone frozen in her body as her eyes dart across the screen again and again, reading it over and over. Why did somebody even send her this? Are there rumours going around about her too?

Quickly, she types out an ew no and publishes it. That should be the end of it. That’s it. She’s said she’s not, and that’s that. But there’s a concrete mixer of emotions and thoughts that swirl around in her mind and in turn churn up her stomach. She thinks about her kiss with Connor at the party, how she’d watched Vanessa instead of closing her eyes. The look on her face when they’d made eye contact. The way Monique feels as if something inside her is broken and can’t be fixed despite the fact she’s so normal on the outside contrasting with the way Vanessa is living happy and carefree despite constantly being made fun of and getting weird looks.

God, why does she even keep thinking about Vanessa all the time? They’ve not had a proper conversation in years, but Monique still remembers the way she’d texted her when her Gran died, the way she cared, the way she still called her her friend. Monique wonders if she’d still say the same thing. After all, she’s never said a bad word about Vanessa, never bitched about her or laughed about her behind her back.

Vanessa had said she still cared about her. Monique still cares about her too.

Monique is so in her own head that she doesn’t notice Monét standing waiting on her at the corner of the street until she almost walks past her. Monét grabs her arm to stop her and Monique very nearly swings for her until she realises who she is.

“Hey, bitch, slow down! It’s just me,” she laughs, and Monique gives a nervous laugh, still rattled by the anonymous question. “God, your head’s buried in that thing.”

“You sound like my Gran. Hey, Gran, I’m cold! Cause you always on that damn phone,” Monique impersonates, making Monét laugh. It coaxes a smile out of Monique too to remember how funny her Gran could be.

“What’re you lookin’ at anyway?”

Monique frowns, tells Monét about the message she got. Monét rolls her eyes and shakes her head in response.

“God, it’ll be fuckin’ Katie or Tomi pissing about and starting rumours. Just ignore them. Everyone knows you’re not gay anyway after Saturday night,” she waggles her eyebrows and tries to make a joke, but Monique’s still worried about the start of her sentence.

“But I don’t wanna be a rumour! I don’t want people talking about me!” she clamours, feeling ever-so-slightly helpless. Scratch that, hugely helpless. Monét pokes her in the arm just as school comes into view.

“Hey, Mo, chill! Nobody is gonna talk about you, everyone knows it’s a crock of shit! Just relax, alright? Ignore it, don’t let it ruin your day.”

That’s easier said than done, though. Monique’s mind is a mess and she can’t tell what’s real and what she’s making up. She walks past Tomi and Katie on her way to her locker and she thinks she hears them say her name but when she looks back at them they’re totally disinterested. In English, she’s sure everyone is staring at her when she walks into class. At breaktime she’s convinced the whole school knows. So when it gets to Biology and she’s sure, she’s positive, that she hears her name being whispered by someone in the row behind her followed by the word gay she thinks she’s going to be sick. The whole school knows, everyone is talking about it. Monique feels her chest tight, her mouth completely dry. She tries to take a deep breath but it feels as if she physically can’t do it. She doesn’t know how, but she manages to ask out of class and the moment she’s allowed she runs out of the door, hurtles down the stairs and into the girls’ bathroom, hyperventilating and clinging to one of the white porcelain sinks so hard she feels as if her knuckles are going to break. Her breathing makes her feel as if she’s a chew toy that someone is squeezing and squeezing over and over again, coming too quick and too shallow but she can’t stop; she’s stuck in the worst kind of cycle and she doesn’t know how to break it. She’s aware of the door creaking open, somebody saying her name in surprise but Monique can’t tear her gaze away from the crack beside the plughole to even see who it is. She feels the person take her hand off of the sink, squeeze it gently, and this forces her to look around and see who it is.

And of course it’s the one person who she doesn’t want to see right now.

Vanessa’s dark eyes are full of concern and care, and there’s furrows in her brow around the cracks and blemishes on her skin. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth which are caged in by her pink traintracks, even though Monique knows they’d be beautiful and straight if she got them off.

Vanessa’s gaze is trained on Monique’s shaking hand now, and she’s holding it open with Monique’s palm outstretched towards her. It’s weird that Monique feels so exposed by that action alone. Vanessa’s got one of the fingers of her other hand positioned beside her thumb, a raggedy painted red nail standing out bright against her skin. “Focus on my finger. You’re gonna breathe in when it’s goin’ up one of your fingers and you’re gonna breathe out when it’s goin’ down.”

In the absence of anyone else to lean on, or indeed any rational thought, Monique simply obeys. Vanessa traces around her hand with her finger, slowly and gently, and it allows Monique time to calm down and breathe. Vanessa’s touch is grounding and soothing and eventually, when it’s clear Monique has calmed down, she watches as Vanessa wordlessly laces their fingers together, strokes her palm with her thumb. Monique’s heart is ricocheting off her ribcage, but not in the same way it was before. Now it’s as if her heart feels too big, like she’s been left out in the sun to melt, and Monique finally gets it.

This is how the other girls feel about boys.

“You okay now?” Vanessa asks her quietly, her voice hesitant and quiet and gentle and so out of character. Monique listens to the silence of the room. There’s nobody else there, nobody hiding in any cubicles. There’s only the drip of the tap and the hum of the air conditioner and Vanessa’s kind eyes and her long eyelashes.

If everything is as simple as an empty room and a silence like purgatory and a beautiful girl’s eyes, then maybe kissing Vanessa can be as simple as all that too.

So Monique does. She leans forward, closes her eyes before their lips meet softly, and neither of them do anything for a moment until Vanessa sort of pushes her lips against Monique’s own so then Monique pushes back with hers and then they’re kissing each other, Monique’s lip balm against Vanessa’s sticky gloss. They’ve still got their hands entwined and even though they’ve been so distant for the past few years she still ends up feeling so close to her because Monique knows Vanessa, but even though she’s got Vanessa’s soft lips on hers and her fingers curled around her own the magic starts to dissolve away and Monique remembers where they both are, who they both are, and how serious and completely not simple any of this is at all.

She pulls away, frantic and panicked, ripping her hand out of Vanessa’s like she’s touching fire. Her heart is going too fast again but it’s not a nice feeling like before; she knows she’s been away from class for too long, knows she needs to get back. She doesn’t want to look at Vanessa as she leaves, doesn’t want to be reminded of the last five minutes, doesn’t want to be reminded of what she is, of who she is. Vanessa takes her by the elbow gently, tries to turn her around.

“M’nique, hey-”

Everything collides together in Monique’s already crowded mind and the result is a crash of Big Bang-style proportions, one that makes her shove Vanessa away with both hands on her shoulders. Monique regrets it instantly, knows she’ll have to deal with the shock and hurt and betrayal on Vanessa’s face etched into her mind for as long as she’ll be able to remember it.

“Go away, Vanessa!” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut and curling her hand around the doorhandle. “Just stay the hell away from me!”

“Hey, you were the one that kissed me!” Vanessa bites back, her fists clenched by her sides in anger. If Monique looks at Vanessa long enough she can see tears beginning to form in her eyes but she’s trying her hardest to look at the floor, to not keep eye contact for long.

“No. I’m not like you, I’m not a fuckin’ weirdo, I don’t kiss girls, I’m not a dy…” Monique starts off insistent and strong but she has to hear herself tail off as she falters, the word she was about to say feeling barbed and sharp in her mouth, not right, a razor blade held on her tongue that she wants to spit out but now has to swallow.

Vanessa’s face has twisted in hurt and it’s impossible to ignore the tears trailing down her face. “You’re not a what, bitch? A dyke? Fucking say it, it don’t hurt me any more. Can’t hurt me any more than what you just did.”

Monique stands frozen and silent. She’s not sure what to say or do. Vanessa walks towards her and Monique flinches back against the wall as Vanessa reaches for the door. She gives Monique one last withering look up and down, the hurt in her eyes betraying the anger in her body.

“I really hoped that one day…you know what, forget it.”

Monique tries to forget it. But, almost as if it’s trying to make up for the fact she lost all of Year 10, her mind replays and replays the whole situation every day, until it’s the last day before the holidays and she knows she won’t have to see Vanessa around school for another six weeks, won’t have to face up to what she’s put in a double-locked safe in the back of her mind with a combination she’s so dangerously close to remembering.

***

Vanessa can’t quite believe she’s halfway through her final year at school.

In fact it’s a miracle she’s still even going to school. She’s got three GCSEs to her name (five No Awards, one D, a C in English which she has no idea how she managed and a C* in Maths, her proudest achievement to date). She’s been working away at an A-Level in Health and Social Care over both of her two years at Sixth Form now, and re-sitting the GCSEs she’s failed. Vanessa has no interest in either health nor social care, but it’s allegedly the easiest A-Level there is so she’s signed up for it regardless. What she’s really going to do after school ends is go to college, get her HNC and HND in beauty therapy with Silky while Akeria studies business management and then they’re going to open a beauty salon together, ’Dreamgirls Beauty’. It’s a plan they’ve had since Year 11, and it’s amused Vanessa to see Akeria and Silky begrudgingly calm down, to stop wreaking havoc around school and actually have to study and work hard so the three of them can achieve their dreams.

She’s actually enjoying her last year of school too. She knows part of the reason she’s stopped getting so much hassle from the others in her year group is because of her transformation after Summer. Her Mama finally saved up enough for flights back to Puerto Rico so they’d spent the Summer there with her family and Vanessa returned full of happiness, love, and fried plantains. All the home cooking and enormous meals have filled her out a bit and she doesn’t know exactly when she’d developed curves but she’s not exactly complaining about them. The sunshine has done wonders for her hair and skin too, the latter becoming clearer and darker and the former becoming longer and shinier. Adding to all this that she got her braces off and learned how to properly do makeup by averaging one NikkieTutorials video a day and she’s suddenly not just some small, spotty girl who fades into the background anymore. She’s confident, she loves herself, she’s genuinely happy.

And that’s more than can be said for Monique.

Vanessa doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Monique Heart, doesn’t give the girl a second thought. Certainly doesn’t think about the kiss they shared last year in the bathrooms which was so very obviously such a huge mistake. Doesn’t think about her long locks of hair she got dyed bright fiery orange over the Summer which compliments her eyes so well, doesn’t think about her huge bright smile and screech of a laugh that gets flashed at her friends whenever they say something hilarious. Doesn’t think about her lips even though she knows what they feel like, doesn’t think about how perfect it felt to kiss her after hiding a crush for so many years.

All of this is a lie of course.

Monique seems happy, any outsider would say that, but Vanessa knows different. If Vanessa looks at her long enough she can see the way her shoulders slump when she doesn’t have her friends around her and she’s left alone with her thoughts. She can see the small frown that appears on her face, lost in her own head and drowning in overthinking. She can see the way her smile falters after she laughs before it drops off her face completely. Sometimes Monique meets her gaze and gives Vanessa a look that communicates words in a language she cannot understand.

Still, Monique is hiding a secret that Vanessa already knows even without being told.

Vanessa had always naively and childishly imagined that she and Monique might get together one day. She’d almost confessed that to Monique that day when they’d kissed, before she decided to hang onto the last shred of her dignity. She’d loved Brooke so deeply but she knew that heartbreaks were a rite of passage, a part of life that some people had to bear the burden of. She’d always thought that if she and Brooke weren’t meant to be then her and Monique surely were (and how ridiculous a thought is that, given the fact they barely speak?).

But Vanessa likes to think she still knows Monique. Her biggest fear is needles, her favourite food is anything cooked on a barbecue. She’s always loved girlbands and near the end of their friendship Monique had told Vanessa her Gran had got her into trouble because she’d made twenty-five phone calls in one night to vote for Little Mix in the X Factor final, so Vanessa can safely assume she still listens to them and probably Fifth Harmony as well. She knows that Monique is caring and kind, even despite that day in the girls’ bathrooms. Still, though…Vanessa doesn’t know. A person can change and grow so much over a few short years, and Monique’s been through a lot.

It’s dark and cold outside but Vanessa is warm in bed as she scrolls her phone, absent-mindedly returns to her messages with Monique like she’s done many times since the day she kissed her- Vanessa always reminds herself that no matter what Monique had said, it was her that kissed Vanessa, not the other way round. She re-reads her words over and over like the prayers she chants at Mass on Sundays:

M: Vanessa I’m so sorry

M: I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m just going through so much right now

M: I’m trying to figure myself out but it’s so hard

M: I really miss you

She hadn’t replied to any of them, a fact she deeply deeply regrets because perhaps if she had then they could’ve been something, she could’ve helped Monique with whatever feelings she’d been dealing with, is maybe still dealing with. But it’s been months and months and months now, and Vanessa feels the moment has passed.

That is, until she gets a message on CuriousCat.

Opinions on Monique Heart

When she sees it, Vanessa’s breathing catches in her throat. She feels as if Monique’s eyes are on her and watching her, because really, who else would’ve sent that ask in? Okay, it could’ve been one of her friends trying to stir shit up, but Vanessa knows how it works on CuriousCat and usually the anons are quite easy to work out (which is why she’s still so amazed that Monique never seemed to know it was her that had asked her if she liked girls). Her fingers hover over the screen as she tries to figure out what to type. Unlike the other girls in her year, Vanessa doesn’t bullshit over CuriousCat- if she’s asked an opinion on somebody she calls a spade a spade, and she’ll never forget the hassle she got when somebody asked her her opinion on Tomi and Vanessa had outright labelled her a racist cunt. She wants to say that she’s gorgeous and beautiful, and that she misses being her friend, and that she’s been crushing on her for a while but never had the courage to speak to her because they both move in different circles now and nothing could ever happen.

But obviously, she doesn’t.

Instead she thinks up a white lie, tries to tell the truth without telling the truth, and instead replies:

dont want to say something ill regret

She yells goodnight to her Mama and switches off the lamp beside her bed, turns over and pulls the covers up to her chin. Just as she’s drifting off, a repetitive sound drifts into her consciousness. It sounds like hailstones that are falling from the sky just one at a time. She can hear somebody shouting in the street- probably just somebody drunk stumbling through the estate, it happens a lot- until she makes out who the voice belongs to. Opening her eyes, she sees tiny pebble after tiny pebble hitting her window, and all at once she’s shooting out of bed to look out of it.

The yellow glow of the streetlamp is a spotlight and Monique is taking centre stage on the pavement outside Vanessa’s house. She’s dressed in a huge black hoodie which is paired with blue tartan pyjama bottoms and she’s wearing her black Nike trainers, the same ones she wears to school with the scuffs and the holes and the laces that look like a dog has chewed on them. She’s hurling pebbles and her face is twisted into an upset and mournful frown. Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s crying until she hears her yell again, hears the crack in her voice and her words thick with emotion.

“Open the fuckin’ window, Vanessa!”  

Vanessa does as she’s told, feels her own face scrunch up into a frown. She hisses down to Monique. “Stop fuckin’ yelling, my Mama’s asleep!”

Monique looks up at her, face illuminated in the artificial light. Vanessa sees the tears streaming down her face and her heart feels as if it’s breaking. She grabs her dressing gown and shoves her feet into her slippers, tiptoes as quickly as she can down the stairs and out into the street. She shoves one of her school shoes that’s beside the door into the doorframe so it won’t slam closed behind her, and then she feels the cold night air envelop her as she steps outside. There’s already frost forming on the ground, a tiny layer of wet cold over everything. It’s so dark that the only thing she can properly see is Monique as she walks up to her iron fence, absent-mindedly sticks her feet through the bars and curls her fingers around the rust.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Monique’s face is angry as she addresses her. “What’s the something you’ll regret? Huh? What’s so bad that you can’t fuckin’ say it? You’ve always got something to say, you’re always calling people out. So what the fuck is it?”

Vanessa’s back is instantly put up. “An’ what if I don’t tell you, you gonna throw names at me again? You gonna kiss me then pretend like I kissed you? Nah you won’t, because that would mean havin’ to address your problems an’ act your fuckin’ age for a change instead of caring so much about what other people think of you that you won’t let yourself be who you are!”

Monique is staring at her wide-eyed and Vanessa thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d just slapped her across the face. She is thinking rapidly about what she could say to save the situation and her heart drops like a rollercoaster when Monique gives a sob.

“I’m so fuckin’ scared, ‘Ness,” she says through a shudder of a breath, and Vanessa wants to reach out to her but she’s frozen onto the fence, an ice sculpture in the freezing air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and…you’re so happy, and you’re different, and I just…I don’t want to be talked about, I don’t want any of the whispers or the mean words or anybody judging me but I’m so fucking…sad and empty and the last time I remember feeling really, properly alive again was when I kissed you that day and…fuck-”

Monique dissolves into sobs which she muffles with hands wrapped in hoodie sleeves. Vanessa has been through all of this already. She has been through the denial, the Catholic guilt, the repression, letting the thoughts drip, drip, drip into her consciousness then locking them away and ignoring them but the thing about a drip is that there’s always the threat of the dam breaking and when it does, a tsunami of repressed feelings creates a flood and the tears are streaming uncontrollably from Monique’s eyes. Vanessa thaws, reaches forward to take one of Monique’s hands away from her face, and when their eyes meet she can see a speck of hope in Monique’s gaze like Vanessa has a life belt and a raft.  

“M’nique,” she says softly, and the girl’s sobs quieten. “Sometimes you just need to ignore the thoughts that make up the what-ifs. You need to stop imagining fiction and just focus on the facts. At some point…you need to allow yourself to be happy.”

Monique snuffles. “But what if I try that and I’m still not?”

“What if you try and you are? Monique,” Vanessa sighs in exasperation, trying to word it better but being unable to find anything more.

And then the thought strikes her.

Actions speak louder than words so she leans over the gate and pulls Monique close. This time there’s no lipgloss, no chapstick and no overthinking; there’s her lips on Monique’s, and she’s been here before so she kisses her just like she kissed back last time but now she’s less hesitant and nervous. She’s sure. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. Monique is kissing her back and their hands are entwined just as they’d been the first time. Everything is the same, and yet at once all so different.

When she pulls away (because the fence is digging into her stomach and it’s making her a little too breathless), Monique doesn’t let go of her hand. There’s a hint of a smile on her face, one that makes Vanessa feel as if they’re both going to be okay.

“I never thought we’d get here,” Vanessa laughs a little. She’s emotional, and if she doesn’t check herself then she’s going to start crying but the tears are out before she knows it along with her words. “I know that we ain’t properly spoken in years. But I also know that I love you. I care about you so fuckin’ much, M’nique, I never stopped carin’.”

The pair of them are crying now, and Monique pulls Vanessa in to kiss her again. Vanessa feels her murmur it back against her lips- I love you, I love you so much. I missed you.

It’s still dark, and the streetlamp is still the only light outside Vanessa’s house, but everything seems a little brighter.

“It ain’t safe to walk back to your ends now. C’mon.”

Vanessa takes her friend’s hand, leads her back inside where it’s warm and safe. Her bed is tiny and there’s only really room for one person but they make it work, Monique pressed against the wall and curled up with her arms around Vanessa, Vanessa with her head resting against Monique’s chest and her arm slung protectively over her. She feels Monique give her a little squeeze, press a kiss to the top of her head.

Monique gives the relieved and heavy sigh of someone who’s been rescued from deep water. She wriggles a little in bed to get comfortable and, seemingly satisfied, she whispers into the dark. “G’night, Vanessa.”

Monique’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, M’nique.”

[fic-ya-later]

Not Gonna Die: Chapter 1

Summary: Castiel is depressed, however he has to return to work even if he doesn’t want too. 

Warnings: Mentions of death and depression. 

A/N: Hey guys! I am so excited to post this here! If you like what you see send me a message; I’d love to hear your thoughts! My request and taglist are OPEN so let me know if you’d like to join it or like something written! I’m working on honing my writing process and style to work on an original piece I’ve had ideas for so if you are a fellow writer send me a message and we can chat about ideas and processes! I hope you enjoy this work!

Series Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Two 

Castiel couldn’t tell how many times he had played Clair de Lune, but it was more than the number of whiskey tumblers he had drained in the last two hours of playing. He couldn’t seem to find the end; cadence would lead to cadence and he’d find himself resolving back to the beginning of the piece each time. Each pass through the melody something was different, Castiel’s fingers hesitated on a note, or he dampered a run’s end to cause the chord to linger in his ears. No, Castiel did not like endings. In his small apartment the baby grand echoed with grace. The rain on the glass wall of his apartment created a soft backdrop for the otherwise barren expanse of the room. 

A pause in the music filled the air as Castiel reached for the fifth to refill his tumbler, only to find it, to his surprise, empty. What time was it? 11? 12? He couldn't tell any more. He set the bottle on the floor and looked up, running his hands down his face when he saw it. The only picture in the whole house sat on the small table in the corner. The soft hazel eyes smiled at him, and Castiel started another melody as tears swelled in his. This time the melancholy was more than a subtext to the music. He let his fingers linger on each note, the vibrations filling him as Gymnopedie No. 1 filled the room. He would’ve continued like this for hours just as he did the last night, and the night before last, and the one before that, but the vibrating of his phone across the room put an end to his thoughts. 

GABE CALLING

With a sigh Castiel silenced the phone. He didn’t need yet another worried sibling bothering him during his self-loathing sabbatical. Not that it mattered. Most of them didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he wasn’t tarnishing the family’s name. Novak. He cursed his father’s last name for the weight it carried. So many knew the Novak technology empire that when they found out Castiel was a part of the family there was a look people would give him which accompanied the customary “why didn’t you follow your dad’s footsteps”. Castiel hated that question. At first he tried explaining that humans are just so interesting, and he felt it was his mission to protect and save them. After he changed his last name people asked why he didn’t capitalise on the familial fortune; he grew tired of explaining that he had all he needed and then some. After he moved away from Boston they would ask what he was running from. Now he had no answer. The past? The future? His family? He didn’t know, but there was something about the beauty of Colorado that just drew him in. There is a real connection to the Earth here. Castiel knew it was where he needed to be the first time he flew out to interview for Boulder City General; if he hadn’t been welcomed to their surgical team, well, he would have flown out to this very house no matter what and become a hermit. 

GABE CALLING

Again his brother tried and failed to reach Castiel. The ringtone fell on deaf ears as Castiel was asleep on his sofa, completely dead to the world. 

Most of Castiel’s dreams held little power over him. There was the odd dream of his mother which gifted him with comfort and peace. The dreams of wings that left him feeling assured and powerful. Then there were the dreams of forests, forests filled with green which left him waking with the constant uneasy edge of something invisible being out of place. These were the only dreams he cared for; the rest of them he chalked them up to subconscious ramblings of an overworked surgeon. These were the dreams of before. Now mostly he dreamed of red and the whine of equipment. 

Blue eyes snapped open. Another of those dreams. With a groan Castiel rolled to his side. 4:12 flashed too brightly into his eyes. He blinked and refocused. May 12. With a sigh Castiel decided the best thing he could do would be to roll himself out of bed and clean up. He returned to work today and the scruff growing down his face and neck simply wouldn’t do. “What have I become?” Steam filled the room and doubt filled his head. “She was just a child.” “You did everything you could” “There had to be something you missed.” Thoughts spiralled through his head as he showered. 

Two weeks ago Castiel met a new patient. A girl of only 12 named Claire. One week ago she went into the OR for a routine valve transplant. One week ago Claire died as Castiel stood over her with his decades, it seemed like centuries actually, of knowledge failing him. The operation was supposed to be straightforward, Castiel had accomplished successful surgeries in far worse circumstances, but when she flatlined he was completely at a loss. Nothing in his past hurt worse that the look on her mother’s face as he walked solemnly into the waiting room. Castiel walked out of the hospital that day fully intending on never walking back in. A stranger was the one who convinced him to take a sabbatical rather than retire a whole career early. 

GABE CALLING

“Gabe.”

“Hello to you too Castiel.” The silence between the two stretched through the room. “You know what day it is today, right Cassy?” 

“Yes. The days don’t change each week Gabriel. I know when Monday is.”

“And we know what happens today. Right?”

“You don’t need to talk to me like I'm a child. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“You’re going to do amazing!”

“Will you bring me lunch?”

“Of course. The usual right?” Cas smiles and hums in response. “Thought so. Don’t stress too much Cassie, I’ll be right down stairs if you need anything.”

“You can do so much better than janitor Gabriel if you ju-”

“Don’t start with me. I’ll work on my life as soon as I can stop worrying about yours little brother. Now get dressed, give Chevy a kiss for me and get your perky ass to the hospital before I have to drag it there myself.” 

Gabe hung up before Cas could even retort by inquiring how his older brother knew the shape and lift of his rear, but he did leave a smile on the surgeon's face. As if on cue, knowing her being was mentioned, a meow cut through the empty apartment and the ashen coloured creature wrapped herself around Cas’s legs, her otherworldly eyes staring up at her human with mild disdain. Chevy was a rescue, Castiel took her in after she was dropped off at the clinic Gabe was working at at the time. They all assumed she was blind, her eyes wouldn’t open for weeks, and that she had been hit by a car. The gruff older man who dropped her off had said he would come back for her if she improved, a gift for a family member he said, but then he never came. So Chevy became Castiel’s. After weeks of nursing her wounds and staying up all night to ensure her health, she finally opened her eyes and looked at her new human with mild affection. Upon seeing her eyes Castiel knew she was meant for him, one stark, pure blue eye, and one warm, deep green eye had blinked at him and she decided that he’d do. 

“I see you little lady. Let’s get you some food before dad goes to work.” While Castiel was never fond of people in general, he had a soft spot for animals and especially for Chevy. She always was so intune with him, and he wanted the best for her. After her water was freshened and a delicate mix of chicken and cat food mix was placed in her dish up on the counter in the bathroom, Castiel continued to ready himself for work. He showered and shaved quickly, trying not to glance at the scars on his back or on his wrists before dressing in freshly pressed trousers and a white button up.

“You get a kiss from Uncle Gabe this morning.” He scratches the cat’s chin before looking in the mirror one last time, face solemn and firm. “You can do this.”

-------

The hospital was as busy as ever, it was like Castiel had never left, that is until director of surgery Zachariah Adler made himself known. The snivelling man was everything that Castiel considered himself not to be: slimy, greedy, an overall pushover if it meant keeping his image and status, and worst of all he had very little regard for others or the lives that fell into his care--just as long as his numbers look good at the end of the quarter. 

“Good to see you back Dr. Allen. I trust your week was...productive?” The director’s tone signalled to Castiel that he had to tread very carefully within the brief conversation.

“Yes Director, very productive. I spent much time focusing on updating my reading on surgical advancements made in the treatment of Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms. It proved quite provoking and has led me to belie…” 

“Yes, yes. Very good. I trust we won’t have any more issues then?”

“No sir.”

“Very good.” The director turned on his heel and left as swiftly as he came, and with not so much a nod in Castiel’s direction. 

“Good morning to you too.” Cas grumbled as he made his way to his office. Not much had changed, but there was a small layer of dust coating most surfaces he would have to wipe off on his lunch today. The tiny office was perfect for the surgeon’s needs. The north and east walls were adorned with meticulously organised and cared for bookshelves. The south wall held a bulletin board next to the door, and the west wall was nothing but glass. That overlooked Boulder City and the mountain range beyond. His desk was always kept neat, the only clutter taking the form of an organiser for his active case files and his in/out box, which had far more in it that he would’ve liked at this point, but that is the life of a surgeon. 

Just as he’d settled in there was a tap on the door.

“Come in.” Cas absentmindedly called out as he remained buried in a case file that required some attention. 

“Dr. Allen?”

“Mhhh.”

“Doctor Bradbury needs you for a consultation.” The voice was firm but cautious.

“Is it urgent or shall I schedule her in?” Castiel still had yet to look up from his case file, consultations were often needed when a surgery or procedure could potentially have adverse effects on a patient beyond the single issue.

“She already has requested you for a 10 am. If that’s amenable of course.”

“Mhhhm. That will do, please tell her I will be in my office Dr….” Blue eyes meet deep green.

“Nurse. Uh, Winchester.” 

“Yes, thank you Winchester. Have you worked for Dr. Bradbury long?” The tanned face was not among the carefully catalogued members of staff within Castiel’s brain. 

“First day. I will let her know you’re available. Thank you Dr. Allen.” As quickly as he came he was gone and Cas was left staring blankly at the empty doorway, wondering why those eyes captivated him so. There was a faint smell of leather lingering throughout the room that continued to mildly distract him for the remainder of his boring morning of answering emails and setting up appointments for referred clients. Just before he had his meeting with Dr. Bradbury, he was tempted to look up the new nurse in the directory, but stopped himself out of habit. New people often intrigued him, and he knew he could come on quite strong to the ‘uninitiated’ as Gabe called it. Perhaps he would be able to run into him at some point, it would seem those green eyes captivated Cas in a way he was unfamiliar with.

Another knock on the door. This one he was expecting, so he rose and greeted his friend and colleague warmly. 

“Cas!” Once the door was shut OBGYN and friend Charlie Bradbury has her arms wrapped snuggly around Cas’s shoulders, he could feel the grin through his lab coat.

“Hello Charlie, it’s good to see you.”

“You too! How are you doing? You cant just ignore me like this; I didn’t know where you were for a whole week! You even missed theme night at the Roadhouse!” The bubbling redhead would go on forever if he let her.

“Charlie.” She quiets. “I’m okay, and yes I will be going to the Roadhouse tonight, and yes I know it’s cowboy night” --- “and girl” --- “Cowperson night. And I wasn't ignoring you, I was taking a brief leave of absence to deal with personal matters. If you wish, we can arrange lunch this week and I can fill you in.” She eagerly nods. “What did you need to see me for?”

“There's the Dr. Castiel Novak I know.” The resulting glare from the blue eyes makes her shiver. “Sorry Castiel. It's a habit. I’ve known you too long.”

“I know, please just be careful. I do not wish for certain members of faculty to know my upbringing or history. I've been passing as human for this long; I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” She nods sympathetically. While most people were open and accepting to the supernatural since the fall of heaven and closing of hell, many people were still quite superstitious and prejudiced against any nonhumans. “Well, to business. I've got a case that's really troubling me. It’s quite delicate, as the case is slightly personal to one of my staff members. I have a patient. Jessica Moore. She just came in for her routine prenatal and I discovered a heart murmur. I think we might have a tricuspid atresia. To make matters worse Ms Moore is having a difficult pregnancy to say the least. Her attachment is weak and she’s beginning to show signs of preeclampsia.” 

“That is quite a combination.”

“Yes it seems that childbearing does not become her. She's the girlfriend of the brother of one of my nurses. I was hoping I could get you in for her next scan, she's due to have another ultrasound at 26 weeks. I’m worried we are going to end up having to either induce her or order a cesarean to maintain both of their healths.” Charlie’s face contorted with sadness at that. Castiel always admired the care she had for her patients. 

“When would this be?” He opened his diary.

“Two weeks, Monday.”

“Yes I can be there. Have someone drop by the details later in the week so I can ensure I am up to date on the case.”

“I’ll have Dean drop them off to you tomorrow them.” 

“Dean... that’s not a name you’ve used before.”

Charlie smiled at Cas cheekily. “Nothing gets by you Cas. Dean is a new midwife in my department. Came to me straight from the military believe it or not. He’s well over qualified for working with me, but I’m not complaining that I have the most capable, attractive, nerdiest midwife in the west at my fingertips.” She flashed a grin.

“How do those last two make him an effective nurse?” 

“They don’t but I wanted to see your reaction. You met him this morning right?”

“Ah so that was the mystery nurse.”

“Yes. Now you can’t go scaring him away. He's already been invited to join the Roadhouse gang. Garth asked him this morning. The two are becoming rather fast friends I’d like to think. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes Charlie, I’ll be there with spurs on.”

“Kinky…” She winks as she leaves the room, and leaves Castiel to his thoughts.

As the day drug on, Castiel became so busy he barely noticed when his lunch hour came up. Jumping out of his chair he swapped his lab coat for a cardigan and went to meet his brother for the lunch he was promised.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Dysmorphia

Imagine a man; featherless, bipedal, pretty standard.  This one has pale skin, black hair with a slight widows peak, and eyes so dark he looks like he has nothing but giant pupils.  He has a faceful of freckles which looked much cuter when he was a kid, and two small moles, one on his lip, the other on his neck.

Picture him taller than average, but not exceptionally so; 6′3″, 6′4″ with shoes on, sub-basketball player height.  Now give him a terrible hunch.  He loses a good three or four inches from posture so bad that chiropractors make appointments to see him.  He locks his knees when he stands so his legs curve backwards, which just looks uncomfortable, and he always leads with his gut hanging out; his spine looks like Trogdor the Burninator (sans beefy arms, wingalings, and consummate v’s, of course).

What he lacks in basketball player height he makes up for in basketball player feet.  Just look at those clod hoppers!  He has to order all of his shoes online because most stores only carry up to size 13.  Last he checked he was a 14 and a half, 15-ish, but nothing he tries is comfortable because he’s got flat feet, like a dirty, draft-dodging communist!  The way he walks is just wrong somehow.  He regularly wears out the back of his shoes, right over his Achilles tendon.  He has to pad the worn chunk of plastic and foam with duct tape to make them last longer, because size 15′s are not cheap!

His wardrobe consists mostly of t-shirts and khaki shorts, but these don’t seem to fit him right either.  Sure, he’ll buy nice clothes every year, but they all seem to change size between the mall changing room and his house, or otherwise disappear (his dad probably co-opts them into his own wardrobe, the bastard).  He is somehow both lanky and portly at the same time; thin arms and legs, with a big beer belly paunch over feminine hips, though he doesn’t drink.  His khakis are all too loose and too short; they come to above his knees when he sits, and he has to wear a belt cinched tight to keep them from slipping down to his ankles.

His shirts are comically large because men’s clothes get wider, not taller, when the size goes up.  He has to wear an L or XL, which are the right length, but make him look like he drank Alice’s shrinking potion.  His only other alternative would be to wear a shirt that is the right circumference, but bares his midriff whenever he moves his arms.

His fingers are the stuff of nightmares; the nails are either crack addict long or chewed down to the bloody stump.  He’s apathetic about this, he just lets them grow until they start getting caught on stuff, then he bites them off so short it hurts.  He doesn’t like cutting his thumbnails because they’re thicker than the others and they hurt the most when they’re short.  He has a weird sensory problem so that whenever he cuts them with clippers they feel artificial, unnatural, uncomfortable, so he has to chew them down or go mad.

Left alone for long enough his hair starts looking like Eraserhead; his hair doesn’t get longer, it gets taller, but not in a cool mad scientist kind of way.  It’s super curly and thick, so it never looks good no matter how he brushes it.  Not once in his life has he ever had a decent haircut; every single barber he’s ever been to has given him the exact same Deep South chud cut like one of those beefy dudes who pose with fish in their facebook profiles.  No matter how many times he shows them photos and asks for something different, he still gets the Standard Chud for $15, $20 after tip.  Whenever it’s cut that short, it makes his head look like an egg.  “WE ARE FROM FRANCE.”  His hair always looks best a week or two after getting it cut, but he never takes pictures in that little window because he is oblivious and self-loathing.

The less said about his facial hair, the better.

I’m going to say more anyway.

Both of his grandfathers had long, thick beards.  His father has a long thick beard.  He, however, is incapable of growing anything that looks even remotely presentable.  He can grow a short, coarse, curly neckbeard that looks like pubic hair, a thin pencil mustache like a creep who lives in a van, and patchy sideburns that cover random spots on his cheeks.  His chin is bare save for the thinnest saddest wisp of a soul patch that he can’t see, but he can feel.  Oh, It’s there, mocking him.  Altogether, it could not be a less flattering combo, but he often goes weeks without shaving because in These Trying Times™ he figures nobody’s gonna see his face anyway.  His depression lets him justify his “why should I make my bed if I’m just gonna sleep in it again” argument about his entire personal appearance.  Yikes.

His arms and legs are covered in scars and dark spots because none of his cuts ever heal right.  He would wear pants to cover them, but he lives on the surface of the sun where it’s about a million degrees in winter, so pants are not an option unless it’s a formal occasion, which are few and far between because his hometown is a cultural wasteland with nothing to do and no one to see.  His legs are disproportionately long, so he looks like he’s striding with purpose everywhere he goes.  His normal walking speed is ever so slightly faster than whoever is walking in front of him, so he either has to awkwardly slow down which makes him looks like he’s following them, or speed up to try and overtake them, but he’s not going fast enough to do it quickly so he ends up walking next to them for a few seconds too long which is even worse AAAHHH

Eye contact is weird.  Too much, not enough, he can never tell.  He tries to keep his head down with the prey-instinct that if he can’t see them, they can’t see him, which results in a chronic case of Text Neck.  When he walks past someone, he locks his neck straight forward so as not to make eye contact, which is almost always the WRONG thing to do because it comes off as rude, which he only realizes much later.

He overthinks everything and comes across as pretty sus because he’s trying to judge how everyone else pictures him on the fly; he doesn’t want to be rude, so he tries to leave everyone alone, but more often than not that makes him look cold and angry.  His worst fear is that people of color will think he’s racist when he doesn’t look at them, or looks at them too much, or gives them a wide berth, when in reality he does that to everyone because being seen makes him uncomfortable, and he can’t stop from feeling guilty about living in his own head because he doesn’t want to keep thinking the way he does, which is to say TOO MUCH!

And to round out his insecurities, he has a big gap in his front teeth and his voice sounds like a nasally child trying to compensate for a speech impediment.

But you know what, his grammy says he’s a handsome young man, so he’s actually doing okay.

[bourbonstreetdevil]

More Headcanon Ramblings

If you don’t like mental illness headcanons or in-depth talk about mental illnesses then there’s no need to read further. It’s all gucci, go about your business my lovelies!

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a professional in any way. I just have a special interest in the brain and its many quirks and afflictions. I tend to see these things in characters I see or play. Remy, Kurt, Cole, Tim, and Klaus especially. But right now I’m gonna talk about Remy! Since. This is a Gambit blog lmao.

So without further ado: here are some disabilities I think fit Remy pretty damn well. Ones that have Pretty Much Canon Evidence will be normal. Anything that’s purely my headcanon will have (HC) before it.

-

PTSD! This one is probably the more obvious one. I think most X-Men who’ve seen battle have it at this point, with all the fucked up things they’ve seen. Remy has likely had it since he was little. Canonically one of his earliest memories is being cuffed to a fucking patio fence while the Guild strapped up a gator to see if he could slip the cuffs in time. He was two years old. Well if that’s not traumatizing I don’t know what is.

(HC) Katrina. In my Remy’s canon, he was around 13 which is when most mutant powers kick in. Especially due to, you guessed it: Stress! I’d say being pinned down in a flooding building counts as stressful! He blew up the rubble and almost died. That’s definitely a ticked box on the Trauma Checklist.

Let’s see... What else...

The life in the Thieve’s guild couldn’t have been easy, especially trying so hard to impress the guild and his ‘adopted’ father. He had to grow up fucking fast if he wanted to live.

Killing a man at 18 after just getting married.

Getting A Fucking Lobotomy! (Side note his head was shaved for that which I think is a fucking crime)

Learning that all this work was to lead a group of murderers to an innocent group of Morelocks!

Getting Fucking Gutted By Sabertooth!

Misc. traumas from living on the run/getting into fights/Belladonna’s death

Most of his ventures with the X-Men!

MYSTIQUE, who regularly manipulated his issues with self-worth and self-loathing!

Apocalypse/Getting turned into the Horseman of Death, which canonically HURT SO MUCH HE HAD TO BE STRAPPED DOWN.

Numerous kidnappings/torture sessions by various villains!

BEING ACTUALLY BLINDED FOR SOME TIME.

Probably more from comics I haven’t read yet!

-

Depression. Self-loathing, self-worth issues, and self-harm specifically. It’s no secret that Remy LeBeau has had one hell of a fucked up life. Abandoned at birth over his mutated eyes, stolen into a family of thieves, basically used as a tool all his life. He’s been used and subconsciously trained to think he’s only worth something if he’s useful. Thus self-worth issues.

(HC) He had no outlet for his self-loathing, but he did have a neat power to charge shit with kinetic energy. Vibrational kinetic energy is, well, vibrational. He holds something and focuses, and it vibrates. He could manipulate an object to vibrate so much that it would heat up. Easy way to cause burns. Easy way to self-harm without being noticed. If people asked why he had burns, he could say he was trying to practice and the thing blew up. Nobody actually cared enough to ask, which made it worse. This is why my Remy has no feeling in his palms! He’s burned all the nerve endings out, whoops!

He outran his use to the Guild when he killed Belladonna’s brother, even in self-defense. The point of the marriage was to settle a feud between the two guilds, to bond them. While they still held the truce despite Remy killing the man, he was exiled from New Orleans. Abandoned for a second time in his life, by someone who likely convinced him he “Should be thankful he was taken in by the Guild.” and how Jean Luc “Stuck his neck out for him.” (Let’s remember I’m pretty sure he was 18 when they were married.)

Plus they abandoned him at a crucial part of his life: His powers starting to get too powerful for him to handle. This drives him to seek help. Unfortunately for him, that lands him with the Marauders. He almost dies trying to save the Morelocks after figuring out what the Marauders had been up to, but he pretty much fails. That’s a huge part of his life that he hates.

Right off the bat with the X-Men, he’s mostly tolerated instead of accepted. Nobody trusts him, so he gets bitter and self-isolates. That just kinda goes downhill from there.

-

Here’s the weirder one of mine... Borderline Personality Disorder! Remy shows pretty much all the symptoms of BPD which are as follows, at least from all I’ve seen. I’ll bold the ones that apply, and summarize some examples.

Fear of abandonment.  Already gone over this one.

Unstable relationships. *Will Smith meme at his numerous flings and escapades and also ROGUE.*

Unclear or shifting self-image.  At the beginning of the 2012 Gambit miniseries, he mentions he doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He has a lot of issues with it throughout the series. I’ve seen it in other comics too but he has a lot of trouble being torn between X-Men, the Thieve’s Guild, and his past with the Marauders.

Impulsive, self-destructive behaviors.  Thievery, reckless and numerous sexual encounters, pretty much no regard for his own health in battle, alcohol.

Self-harm.  Already went over this, still pure headcanon.

Extreme emotional swings.  He’s seen getting regularly frustrated with people, even those he loves. Especially with people that he finds annoying. Then other times he’ll be extremely apologetic or upset for almost no reason. The smallest thing can trigger it, like being called a thief too many times or being rejected by someone he cares about.

Chronic feelings of emptiness.  I’m not sure how to explain this one. It just shows, to me. Maybe the same instance as the shifting self-image.

Explosive anger. (haha get it) He’s actually really good at keeping his anger in check unless it has to do with people he cares about.

Feeling suspicious or out of touch with reality.  He’s really fucking paranoid. He’s paranoid that people will leave him or won’t trust him with anything. He’s suspicious of anyone new, wondering when they’ll leave him, etc.

Thanks for coming to the TED Talk no one asked for.

[demonsforfriends]

Just having a quiet moment to myself to sit and think about everything that's happened in the last week or so, and reflect on what's going on in my life right now.

It's been 3 weeks now since I've been in isolation and it's been a blessing in disguise. I didn't realise how much I needed time to just hermit and be at home and not mixing with the outside world. It's been over 3 weeks since I dissociated last, and that's something of a record for me. Even though we're having money worries, the same as everyone else, anxiety levels have dropped significantly.

Last week, we hit a bit of a bump. Well, a big bump actually. While anxiety has been a lot more manageable, there's been a lot of random depressive spells, and last week out of nowhere, I hit a wall, completely snapped, and made a really irrational, split second decision to end my life, and just went out on autopilot. For a moment, I was completely overwhelmed, felt like I was the source of all that's wrong with everything, felt like everyone's lives would be better without me in it and was just completely exhausted with the state of the world.

I struggle to do and understand a lot of things. Basic things, like working out how I feel, and talking about it, and dealing and acting on a single emotion. Feeding myself when I'm hungry. Showering when I need to. Understanding people's feelings and intentions. It's so difficult and confusing to the point of tears sometimes. But at the same time, I feel so so deeply, I just can't do anything about it a lot of the time, and not for lack of trying either. When I can actually pick up on it, I can feel deeper for others than I can myself. I've speculated in the past that I have autism, and never really thought anything of it, I just brushed it off and carried on. More recently, it's felt more and more like something I need to confront and deal with. Anyway, when I was off on my little suicide mission, I had a moment of clarity and I stopped. I turned my phone back on, and listened to the voicemail that my fiancée had left me and it absolutely broke my heart. She was so scared, and hurt, and confused and could barely speak for crying and it wrote me off. For a moment, I had a flash of confusion, which quickly turned to anger and self loathing. How could she love me? I'm so obsessed with perfection, but I am so imperfect, the exact opposite of the thing I've spent my entire life chasing, and trying to be. But as quickly as the anger came on, it dissolved. All I wanted to do was go home and make her feel better. I've always said that her happiness is my happiness, and I'll probably always stand by that. I went home, had a chat with the police, went with the ambulance crew to the hospital, spoke to the mental health teams, and went home to her. I felt so much remorse. We have regular mental health check ups with each other anyway, but that night we really talked a lot, about what I want, why I can't ever do anything for myself and the general day to day struggled that I have, and ups and downs that I have, and how to deal with my autism better. She also tried to work out how to love me better, which made me kinda sad, because there's no way she could do more for me than she already does, but she vowed to stick to it nonetheless. I've always believed her when she tells me she loves me, but somehow I believe her more now than ever.

I'm so glad I didn't go through with ending my life last week. I've experienced so many beautiful moments in this last 8 days alone. Things that would seem small and insignificant to some, but have been amazing and beautiful and really meaningful to me.

The first day after everything that happened, we spent the day at home together, mostly in bed. Just being in each others company. She held me and kept me calm for most of the day. Just the pure warmth and innocence of naked skin to skin contact was amazing. Jen sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the window, and as the sun was setting, I noticed the way the skin touched her skin and outlined her body, and it was truly an amazing thing to watch, so much so that I had to capture it. Her silhouette looked perfect against the dusk sky. I had a really profound feeling of being grateful to survive the previous afternoon, else I wouldn't have lived to see that moment.

Tuesday was a really, really amazing day, start to finish. One of the best days I've had in a long long time. Once Jen got back from work, we had a parcel arrive from Ithaca, actually genuinely one of my favourite bands. When the Covid-19 lockdown started, we bought a long sleeved t-shirt from them, because A. the shirt is sick as fuck and B. just to show some love and support. To our surprise, they sent us two shirts, the one that we ordered, as well as a bonus shirt from old merch stock, as well as a sticker and a handwritten note on the back of a photo of Djamila's dog, The Ham™.

Afterwards, we got dressed and headed out to go get some food shopping, and decided to talk through the park on the way home, and came across a beautiful bed of daffodils, so of course, I had to take pictures. The one above is my favourite, of course. Jen has the most beautiful smile, especially now that I know that she's happy for real.

After we'd been home, put the shopping away and showered, we headed out again. This time, to go hunt down a good spot to try and take some good photos of the "Pink Moon". We went for a nice long walk through the woods first though. It was so quiet, all we could hear were birds singing, the water running in the stream and the ground beneath our feet.

Once we found a good spot on high ground, we sat on top of two big rocks in front of some trees, one tree in particular was a a blossom tree, and we watched the sun go down, and just sat there quietly, looking at all of the colours meld and mix in the sky.

After the sun had set, we found the best spot we could find to set up the tripod and Jen sat by for a good half an hour to 45 minutes while I tried to get the best shot I could of the moon. I am honestly so so proud of this photo, I personally think it's one of the best photos I've ever taken.

I was starting to feel as though Jen was getting bored of sitting around, while I was indulging myself, as I know I often get carried away and absorbed when I'm doing something creative, and starting to feel like I should wrap things up, but instead, she took a big interest in what I was doing, and took the time and effort to get involved in what I was doing. She came and sat with me, and asked me questions about how my camera worked, and gave it a try for herself. I remember watching her try, and adjust, and try again and I remember feeling so much love, and feeling so proud of her. No one has ever gone out of their way to involve themselves in something that I love doing the way she did, and that memory, and that picture will stick with me forever.

This is just a bonus picture of Jen, because I thought she looked really beautiful under the glow of the streetlights and the moon. 😍

The day after/yesterday, after Jen came home from work, we spend another afternoon in bed together, to have some alone time. While the sex was amazing, as it usually is, that isn't the moment that sticks out for me, it's this one, in the photo. This might be grim, or kinda gross or just too much information for some, but I don't care. Now, ever since we have been together, both of us have become more comfortable body hair, periods, and pretty much everything that our bodies do naturally and we both find it beautiful. Something I've noticed, as well, is that people don't generally tend to talk much about grooming, especially when it comes to helping your partner groom and helping your partner with self care. Well, recently, we both decided to shave together, which is something both of us had to do before to please others, even though I never really liked it. However, this time is was different. Anyway, I have quite sensitive skin, and naturally, I get a lot of ingrown hairs, this time around have had a lot and it's been very uncomfortable and at times quite painful. When we were lay in bed together, I was in a bit of discomfort with it, and without batting an eyelid, Jen picks up the tweezers, heads back down there and starts removing and relieving all of the ingrown hairs. This really sticks out to me as a really beautiful moment. She was so gentle, and I was so comfortable that I felt no pain at all. I've never met anybody who treats my body with such care and respect before as she does, and she protects and looks after it better than I do. I remember being filled with love, and I felt like it was such an intimate moment, but a gentle, innocent kind of intimacy and it was beautiful. Another moment that will stay with me for a long, long time.

Later on in the evening, we went out for another walk, this time to go and meet Jen's mother and collect some food that she had got for us. On the way there, we came across a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Cherry blossoms are both of our favourite flowers, we absolutely adore them, so I wanted to photograph them, but I'm not a tall person and the tree was very high, so I couldn't reach to get a good close up photo of the flowers. Within seconds, she gave me a piggy back and hoisted me up high so I could get close enough to take this photo. We must've looked crazy to onlookers, but it was like we were the only two people in the world.

If I had gone through with ending my life last week, I would've missed out on all of these precious moments. As I said, they may seem small or insignificant to some, but to me, they hold so much weight and meaning. All of that would've been gone, within a split second of being overwhelmed.

Jennifer Stephanie Riddell, I wouldn't be here without you. I love you, so so much, more than words will ever be able to say. I can't wait to become your wife, so that everyday for the rest of our lives, we can carry on making beautiful memories out of the little things. Every day, you give me a reason to feel love and feel grateful for being alive. I hope you realise how special you are to me, and how meaningful it is to spend my life with you, however big or small the moment is.

[somarysueme]

WicDiv Thoughts, some overly personal

stiiiiiillllll can’t really put together my feelings about the end and epilogue.  I will say that I liked the ending and epilogue more than I expected to*, and the longer I sit on it, I find more things to like about it.

(* Except for everything about Baal and Mini)

That said, there’s still that huge, unpleasant gap between what I wanted/expected this comic was supposed to be, and what it actually intended/was. I wrote this post after 43 (the “everyone does the thing” chapter), using bits of a half-written reaction to 39 ("Laura did the thing” chapter) to talk about that gap. I decided to sit on it til everything was said and done Just In Case, but I mostly still agree with what I’d written. 

So Here Are My Thoughts

The full pantheon abdicating! This is basically where I expected us to go. Since 39 it seems like the natural place for the story to be headed. Laura’s revelations, along with the Daddy Forgive Us special made it clear that the only way out of the game was not to play it. I was kinda luke warm on that concept, but it made sense for where the story was at that point. I was waiting to see how it actually played out before getting fussy about it.

I give him a C for execution here. Maybe a C+. 

I thought Dio’s moment was great. Jon’s was beautiful. Inanna’s I definitely could have gotten behind if he’d actually gotten to have any of that arc on the page instead of getting put on a bus 30 chapters ago. 

The rest range from “meh” to “yikes.”

I could have liked this, I wanted to like this. Given how much “OKAY” has been miles more thoughtful than Mothering Invention, I was genuinely hoping to like this. I would have loved to see these kids find something more important than godhood to live for. But that’s not what we got.

We did get them realizing that being a god is not worth dying for. Which is good!  And essential! And basically the central conceit of this comic! 

But.

But...  

I really wanted to see our cast value their lives period. And while there was some of that, there was far more of seeing them be humbled. We saw them beaten down until they had no choice but to admit they Were Not Special (or at least, were not as special as they thought). I was hoping for them to find a capacity to value their lives because their lives have value whether or not they are special, but instead it was a story about being humbled, and I guess to me, I just can’t see that what young queer artists need is help being humbled. They need help being valued as people, they need the internal presence of self to command that value be respected, and they need the external support to give them a fighting chance at that.  And not to be That Fan, but that fighting chance doesn’t come from individual actions. It comes from worker solidarity and respect for labor as labor.  It just doesn’t work for me to have a series around the exploitation and consumption of young talent and leave anything material about money and labor practices out of the material.

(McKelvie’s My (6000 F) pantheon has unionized joke, but unironically.)

Anyway this comic was all about Don’t Let This Happen To You.  And that’s a good start, but I was hoping for it to be so much more than that. It could be that this is me looking at WicDiv and wanting it to say something broader about specialness and creativity and mental illness and exploitation. 

(There’s a lot to be unpacked wrt presenting itself as a story about the whole world through all of human history, while also intending to be  psuedoautobiographical for a very specific set of circumstances. But that’s not this post.)

It’s weird because like, Fandemonium already delivered masterfully on Laura learning to value herself outside of godhood.  Laura’s last pre-apoptheosis soliloquy about “I can’t save any of them, but I can still help them” was one of those wham moments that really cemented this book’s place in my heart. Living through Fandemonium and realizing that the gods were people, and needed actual love and support from people who cared about them as people, and that just being a decent friend is something worth living for, fuck!! That’s good shit!! That’s fucking excellent!! 

And for the rest of WicDiv’s run, I was always waiting for the story to get back to that place, but it never really did. 

 (ETA AFTER 45 IS OUT: ok fine I fucking love that Laura saved Luci. Big Gay Hero Girl drags naughty non-devil out of hell and they kiss, fucking A+. But “can’t save but CAN help” is still something I wish the comic had followed up on more. The friendship thing got touched on a little bit too,  but never in a way I found as satisfying as Fandemonium.)

So anyway Luci going Full Diva. Her future is this and her future is nothing.

The longer I chew on it, the more I like it, and the more it seems like the inevitable place for Elanor Rigby’s story to go. It’s a good continuation from where we last saw her have any scrap of agency, but also frustrating in that “the lat time we saw her have any scrap of agency” was basically the entire comic ago. It was jarring to have her go from [One Sassy Line Per Issue] to [Maybe I’m The Final Boss]. Her story suffered deeply suffered from all the time she spent off screen. But despite all that, I’m very much really looking forward to whatever the fuck Laura Wilson’s going to do about this. 

I’m trying not to get my hopes up for Talk Her Down ending. It seems perfectly in line with this series to end with the moral of “sometimes, no matter how kind or brave or caring you are, people you love pick their addictions over living.” That’s a song I’ve already heard live and in person, and I don’t really want or need to hear anyone else’s studio cover.

Uh final thought on 43 is.... Minanke DOES seem to count herself as part of the 12, which still lines up with my Emily Was Also A Fake God theory (Fauxmaterasu theory? Nokami hypothesis? Amaterasuspicion?) but it does seem unlikely to actually be a Thing between now and the epilogue. shrug.

(ETA AGAIN: I had to write out my feelings on 39 and Laura’s own abdication (unpotheosis?) to properly respond to 43. So here’s a draft of another unpublished post that I fleshed out.)

I have extremely mixed feelings about chapter 39. 

First Feeling: thank fuck the pregnancy plot is over. 

Second feeling: establishing abdication as an option established a nice overarching shape to this book. Things have felt directionless for many chapters, but this does make it seem like we are back on some kind of track.

Third Feeling: kinda liking abdication as a general direction for endgame.  For most of the series, I was hoping the whole that there actually was Something Important about the recurrence, but since it's clear now that it’s basically all lies, I like this this angle well enough.

Strongest Feeling: hell fucking yes to Laura’s shaved head. 

(Tangential Feeling: buzzing your own head is good and you should think about doing it. Doing it for catharsis in a moment of crisis is A-OK, but I did it once just because I felt like it and it was fucking great. banishing your high maintenance hair does not cure depression, but it does give you back an hour of personal upkeep every day and the fuzzy head is wonderful to touch.)

Contrary to most of the fandom, though, I absolutely loathed Laura’s monologue here, and the context that it puts around her not-choice. There’s a lot of shitty Hot Takes out there about how mental illness and addition and creation intersect. A lot of people will suggest that being unhealthy makes you a better artist, and what’s more that being a better artist is worth being unhealthy.  This series is unambiguously and steadfastly against that message, which is one of the absolute best and most important things about it!  I don’t want to diminish that.

But that all said, seeing Laura alone in the dark describing “an addicts moment of clarity” was... jesus it was all kinds of personally painful and upsetting. It hurt real bad, and not in the way I though I had agreed to be hurt. And I’m not sure how to spell out why.

I have thousands and thousands of words on why it struck such a sour cord in me, but a lions share can be summed up with “fuck absolutely every story where a Troubled Girl just needed to get traumatized/humiliated/humbled enough to Realize How Bad She Was Being.” Double fuck this one in particular for showing the girl getting over addiction/mental illness by literally sitting alone in the dark thinking about how much she fucked up.  That story is tired, and cruel, and dangerous, and thank Christ I encountered this comic at 30 and not 19 because I would have swallowed it down with all the other poison that Helpful Adults fed me.

But yeah though, her shaved look is fucking adorable as shit.  Neither she nor Britany made any hair mistakes.

ETA ULTIMATE: That last bit is the one thing in this post I don’t quite still stand by. By the end, it’s clear that the above wasn’t at all the story this book was trying to tell at all. I thought WicDiv was trying to tell some Epic Truths, Hard-Facts-About-Human-Nature shit. But despite the sweeping setup (All Across The World and Through All Of History) the book was using a complex allegory for a very specific situation (Selling Your Soul and Name and Life To Creative-Industrial Machines), and that made it muddy.  

(Insert Principal Skinner meme here “Am I out of touch? Was I simply interrogating the text from the wrong perspective?  No, it’s the original creators who are wrong!”)

I’m from a family of mentally ill, addiction-prone, recovering-Catholic artists.  Laura is in my blood. Half the people I love are Laura.  I have Laura’s painting on my wall and her books on my shelf. I’ve sat with Laura’s mother a few years after Laura’s death, as her father now slowly dying in the next room, and listened to her music for the first time. (It was good. It was really good.  And I never even knew.)

These experiences colored my read, but how could they not?  

I do now, I think, understand what Gillen was trying to say- the addiction he was talking about was to stardom, the attention and accolades, and free pass to make your own shit be everyone else’s problem. I understand now that the “art” that the gods made was always supposed to be Not Real Art, that there was no true “message” from their songs- all noise, no signal. It was never about Laura’s art, or even Laura as an artist.  And that was unpleasant to reconcile.

Because when you're Laura, or Elanor, or any of them, life doesn’t have to grant your ill-advised wish before it fucks your head and kills you. Sometimes you fight as hard as you can with every fiber of your being and you’re still in Hell. Sometimes you’re doing all the Meetings and self-reflection and therapy you can manage and you’re still a Destroyer. But the shit you create while you’re down there is worthy of creating. What you do with your too-short, too-fucked time matters. A fucked up life was still worth living because it was your life to live. And... I guess, from the story presented in Faust Act and Fandemonium, I sort of thought that this was what WicDiv was supposed to be talking about. I thought it was going to be about doing something good even when life is fucking you. But instead it is a cautionary tale that  that suggests you could have stopped getting fucked at any time if you had just gotten over yourself and said the magic words.

We spent half the comic watching Laura drag herself through the mud. Half the comic was focused on Her Mistakes, when so little of her circumstances were actually her fault. “Punish Ophelia until she gets over herself” is not at all what WicDiv meant to be about. I imagine the creators would be aghast to hear that’s what I got out of it. But the text is what the text is.  While it is intended (and successful!) at being many other very good things, this one really bad thing is still part of that mix, and that sucks.

Maybe I should have picked up on the discrepancy between my read and the intent sooner. Probably I should have just done myself a favor and stop reading once I did.

2016, 2017 while my life was going a bit to shit, this comic was exactly what I needed. Being in the fandom made my life better and helped me meet cool new friends and get through some of the hardest shit to happen to me since I was a kid. Then in 2018, it slid into source of frustration and soured promise. Now at the end I have no idea if I liked it or not. 

But that’s fine, now that it’s done. The ink is dry, the ritual is over. It’s just a comic book now.  Some pictures I still love and some words I don’t always agree with. A lot of noise, arguable amounts of signal, but not a song I want to play on loop anymore.

I have no real conclusion to draw here. I respect at how firmly WicDiv rejects dark and unhealthy parts of being a professional creator- especially unhealthy things that are generally just accepted as Common Wisdom. I don’t think it took enough care in spelling out what it was rejecting, though, and I do think it was remiss in not finding good healthy things to embrace as an alternative.

All of the above notwithstanding, I have to give it credit for delivering almost exactly what I wanted in terms of lesbian nonsense. That ain’t nothing.

I give this series ?????/∞ and am happy to be safely clear of Kieron Gillen’s Wild Ride

[aceyugiohdreamer]

88 questions

tagged by @forsakenangel88  thank you :D always appreciated

RULES: ANSWER THESE 88, THEN TAG SOME PEOPLE

BASICS: a. NAME AND PRONOUNS: Ky; preferrably xe/xyr/xym, but they/their/them is cool

b. AGE (and birthday!): 27 (September 17)

c. SEXUALITY: Sex-repulsed Ace

d. GENDER: none

e. COUNTRY: US

f. FAVORITE AESTHETIC: Gothic/emo/punk-rock

TRIGGERS/MENTAL ILLNESSES: I tend to think about my long episode with anorexia a lot and skeletal bodies trigger those self-loathing feelings pretty hard

THE LAST:

1. DRINK: Water

2. PHONE CALL: I was interviewing a new student worker this afternoon

3. TEXT MESSAGE: telling my mom about the vegan ice cream I bought on sale

4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: scaPEGoat from Owari No Seraph

5. THE TIME YOU CRIED: last week I think? watching Kiznaiver and AnoHana

HAVE YOU: 6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: try never

7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: I kiss family members and dislike it, but I don't exactly regret it since it's just a familiar way of showing affection

8. BEEN CHEATED ON: can't get cheated on if you're never dating or been in that kind of relationship where cheating is possible *insert that meme*

9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yes

10. BEEN DEPRESSED: Yes

11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: No

TOP 3 FAVORITE COLORS (same as you, Susan :) 12. Purple

13. Black

14. Silver/Grey

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: No

16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: No

17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: Yes

18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: Yes

19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: No

20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: No (I kind of know that BEFORE I start thinking of someone as a friend)

21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: Close family

GENERAL

22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: I don't know, I don't use facebook anymore

23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: No, and by choice

24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: Yes

25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOU LAST BIRTHDAY: I honestly don't remember

26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP TODAY: 6:00am for work

27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: Sleeping

28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: for Alyce to retire and give us all some peace in the office

29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: Hmmm, some time in May when she and my sister passed through

30. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU COULD CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE: either have a LOT MORE MONEY or have ENDLESS CREATIVITY that keeps me constantly writing

31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: The sound of people firing off little fireworks even though the 4th isn't until tomorrow

32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: I'm sure, but I can't think of any actual faces

33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: The totally contrived nature of academic writing

LOST QUESTIONS 34. MOLE(S): Yes

35. MARK(S): ??

36. CHILDHOOD DREAM: To be a full-time author

37. HAIR COLOR: Naturally brown

38. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: short--in fact, I just shave it all off

39. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: fictional characters

40. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: my personality and my introversion and my ethics

41. PIERCINGS: Ears (3 on left, 1 on right)

42. BLOODTYPE: maybe A+?

43. NICKNAME(S): K

44. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: queerplatonic partnership

45. ZODIAC: Virgo

46. PRONOUNS: see above

47. FAVORITE TV SHOW: non-anime--Hannibal, The Closer, and GoT; anime--YuGiOh, HxH, Durarara!!

48. TATTOOS: favorite yugioh character names in Japanese on my left wrist and an ace ring on my right middle finger, and I'd love to get a lot more

49. RIGHT OR LEFT HAND: I’m right-handed

50. SURGERY: wisdom teeth removal

51. HAIR DYED A DIFFERENT COLOR: not currently, but I've done a few different colors (red, black, white)

52. SPORT: I am captivated and super impressed by martial arts, gymnastics, and pole dancing

53. VACATION: I dunno, I'm not much for leaving the house really, but maybe a short trip to a log cabin in a forest or something

54. PAIR OF TRAINERS: I believe this means tennis shoes, right? I have one pair, white with really thick soles

MORE GENERAL

55. EATING: Nothing now

56. DRINKING: Nothing now

57. I’M ABOUT TO: go to sleep

58. WAITING FOR: summer heat to DIE

59. WANT: lots more money, so I can buy those tattoos and more art commissions and more badass clothing

60. GET MARRIED: I think the whole concept of marriage as a legal institution is silly

61. CAREER: I work in the university library, but that's just what I do to make money, which I guess is the definition of a career? but I don't consider it anything that defines me as a person, that would be my writing, even though I don't share it with many people

62. HUGS OR KISSES: Hugs, but only with specific people; kisses are gross

63. LIPS OR EYES: eyes, I don't find lips all that interesting, plus they have some nasty stuff going on behind them

64. SHORTER OR TALLER: I want to be WAY taller than I am right now

65. OLDER OR YOUNGER: I feel like I’m younger than I am, and I wouldn’t mind going back to being like 23 and staying that age forever

66. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: I'd prefer to have six pack abs, but I wouldn't mind having muscled and toned arms if that was all I could develop

67. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: I'm pretty sensitive and definitely not loud

68. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: I don't do hook ups, and I only want a few really meaningful relationships in my life

69. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: depends, if we're talking about smashing social norms, then I'm all for troublemaking, but if it's shit that just annoys people, then I wish people would be more hesitant and actually think for one goddamn minute before they cause someone stress

HAVE YOUR EVER: 70. KISSED A STRANGER: No

71. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: No, what even is hard liquor?

72. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: No (don’t use either)

73. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: I have to turn down student applications for the library job quite a bit

74. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: No sex ever + no dating ever = no

75. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: I don’t think so?

76. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: yes (looking at YOU yugioh!!!!!)

77. BEEN ARRESTED: No

78. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: Yeah (including Alan Rickman and plenty of fictional characters)

79. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: Fell in platonic love with Taiyo <3

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 80. YOURSELF: Sometimes

81. MIRACLES: not really but I don’t know, I’m agnostic on that, also I guess it depends on your definition of “miracle”

82. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: No

83. SANTA CLAUS: No

84. KISS ON THE FIRST DATE: If other people want to, that's fine, and since they DO I pretty much have no choice but to believe it exists

85. ANGELS: No

OTHER 86. CURRENT BEST FRIENDS NAME(S): Taiyo and Maria

87. EYE COLOR: Blue

88. FAVORITE MOVIE: Underworld, off the top of my head

[hyphenatedamericans]

“write it all down.”

I heard it from some dumb lady on a dumb podcast saying dumb things. It’s the only bit of information that actually stuck with me. So I’m going to give it a try. Because I don’t have any other options. My mental health is at an all time low and I don’t know what to do. 

I want to stop living, truthfully. I don’t mean I want to kill myself. I don’t have the guts. I just mean I want it to be all over. I just want some nuclear explosion to make us all go away. Or if that’s too painful... what about if we just disappear? like that Hulu show. Idk what its called. where people just go poof. But not some conspiracy shit. I just want to cease to exist. Idc how.

I’ve had enough of the pressures of life, which is some weak shit to say being that I’m pretty privileged: educated, food, shelter, work, family, love. But I guess I’m just not strong enough to deal with the pressures that I have. Mentally, I mean. Others can go through real life fucking trauma and live and come out stronger. But I can’t seem make it through my everyday tasks without wanting to die. I just dont think im strong enough to do anything.

Is this depression? They always say that it looks different on everyone. Some can’t get out of bed, some express self-hate, some this, some that. 

Is it anxiety? Everything stresses me out. Noises outside my window, the little red squiggly line under the misspelled words in this text post, paying bills, planning meals, having kids, the GRE, applying to schools, time to see my grandma, my dog shedding his summer coat. 

You know that saying of the camel and the straw that broke its back. I feel like all of these things are bricks. Not straws. And that my back broke down bricks ago but somehow people keep piling on more bricks. 

Here’s a list:

1. I need Jaira to get a new job because I need help with bills and shit 2. I need a cleaning lady. Im tired of cleaning 3 times a week. 3. Planning my every meal is exhausting. I get home at 730 to have to start cooking dinner. 4. i go to sleep past 12am every night. 5. my hair requires maintenance 6. applying to schools. 7. asking briana and andi for recommendation letters

8. studying for the gre 9. i took it already and performed sooooooo below average 10. i have to take it again 11. my grade on this next one 12. starting applications !3. i dont have time to do any of the 12 things ive mentioned so far 14. I should get a poster board to write down all of my grad school requirements. but that means i need cash to get it because the dollar store doesnt take card. but I have $23 in my checking account and if I take out $20 that means ill have $3 until thursday.  15. Jaira needs to start applying for 4-years 16. i miss my grandma 17. i miss my mom and my dad 18. i should help my dad park the car for street cleaning 19. why should i ? nicolas doesnt do shit. 20. i hope tiffany never kills herself. because i will blame it on myself. 21. why do i care what people think 22. should i go back to smoking cigarettes? those make me fee better 23, i need to fill fafsa out 24, i need to change my loans so that I dont have to start paying in november 25. i need to ask briana whether i have to pay taxes on what im making 26. fuck trump 27. innocant people die everyday 28. black lives matter 29. undocumented lives matter 30. WTF DOES ILLEGAL EVEN MEAN- no one is fucking illegal 31. people confuse race and ethnicity and that fucks everything up 32. i miss the obamas 33. am i fulfilling my civic duty by not protesting enough 34. election day is coming up. i should educate others on the importance of voting 35. relax maca: mental health >well being others. heal yourself before you can help others 36. im a lazy shit that cant help herself. 37. I wanna shave my head.

all of these thoughts are allways in my head at the same time. all day every day.

im having some weird existential crisis where i realize that nothing in life has meaning and nothing really matters. we give it meaning we allow the facets of life to control us. so then why am i panicking? why do i care? and when i stop caring.... this list bumps into my head again. ive never gotten all of these feeelings out at once. im glad i did. im glad i put it in writing. where i can SEE it. and theyre not just words floating in my head. it helps. im not sure how but writing this out helps. im glad i found the time to do it. but now i feel guilty about not studying for my GRE. its all a never-ending cycle of bad anxiety and self-loathing. 

i just told jaira to buy me a poster board. 

[nisitime]

Random personal cause im bored

1. Name: Just call me Nisi <3

2. Birthplace: Portugal

3. Ancestry: nhé

4. Zodiac Sign: Gemini

5. Biggest fear: the dark

6. Strength/Weakness:im super patient / i cry easly

7. Worst habit:mumbling

8. Favorite holiday: hmmm...x.mas? idk i like free days in general

9. Ever been in a car crash:nop

10. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher: yes

11. What do you do as soon as you walk in the house: take my shoes off

12. Age at first kiss:14/15??? dont really remember CAUSE IT SUCKED

13. When did you fall in love for the first time: school

14. Who Is Your Longest Friend & How Long: PFFF longest friends ahaha

15. Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: getting my sale site to work

16. What were you doing at midnight last night: working and talking with friends

17. When was the last time you laughed hard: right now

18. Who was the last person that told you they love you: my bf

19. What was the first thing you thought when you woke up yesterday morning: text bf

20. Where did you go for your first date and who was it with: hmmm walk in the park i think with my 1 bf

21. Who’s wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen: never was but i loved my cusin’s wedding <3

22. Who did you see in concert first:my bf? idk

23. Who was your favorite teacher:UFF i have too many? but i like my actual museum teacher <3

24. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day:my bf

25. Who do you think about most: my bf (fuck)

26. Is your ideal occupation? drawing memes

27. Beer, wine, or liquor? liquor

28. Favourite restaurant? the restaurant dont my street its called Pana Cota

29. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? ALL OF THEM but maybe coffee

30. McDonlads or Burger King? Mac

31. Fantasy dinner guest(s)? Rock Lee and Nico (oh god)

32. Have you ever been drunk? When was the last time? never

33. What is the most embarrassing thing you have done drunk? nothing

34. Wonder Woman or Cat Woman? Diana <3

35. How many pets do you have? none

36. What would be the first thing you bought if you won the lottery? i fucking credit card

37. When was the first time you smoked? never

38. Who last sent you a text? my bf

39. Who did you last send a text to? my bf

40. What 4 things would you take to a desert island? a boat, a map, food, those light guns for s.o.s

41. Name the 3 most important people in your life? my mom, my bf, my brother

42. Favorite song? dont have one but im super into Ken Ashcorp

43. Favorite movie? hmmm Spirited Away maybe? nostalgia is a fucked up thing

44. When did you last cuddle someone? yesterday

45. When did you last have sex? yesterday (making love tho)

46. If you woke up tomorrow with no fear, what would you do first? TURN OFF ALL LIGHTS

47. What was your biggest worry five years ago, do you still feel the same about it at this minute? not being ok anymore, i dont cause everything passes with time <3

48. If you could change one law of your country, what would it be? i dont know most of them :V

49. What relationships have ended? But you can’t let go? my ex friend that still fucks with my head

50. Where would you take a road trip? hmmm Porto

51. How do Mondays feel for you? nhé dont bother

52. If you could spend ten minutes with your ‘hero’ alive or dead what would you ask them? DUDE HOW CAN U BE SO AMAZING

53. Do your practice ‘self love’ or ‘self loathing’? buddy u ok also u cute and ull be fine <3 dont worry about your legs cause damn thighs

54. What’s your greatest achievement to date? being ok with myself

55. What scares you about your future? not finding a stable job, not getting a house or any money :c

56. Why does pizza come in a square box? cause square boxes are easier to make?

57. What would happen if you knew you could not fail? i would do everything

58. How does it feel to be photographed? if i allow its amazing if not its awkward and upsetting

59. If you could erase an event from your mind, which one would you choose? the ones i crawled for my ex like a dog

60. Do you want your children (if you have any) to be ‘just like you’? no, im to stressfull and have too much anxiety

61. Do you stand for what you believe in or are you pleasing others? first one

62. If money were no concern, what would you do for the rest of your life? be happy on my own house and drawing for fun <3

63. What are you thankful for, this moment? being happy and appreciated

64. Do you have same sex fantasies? not really ?

65. If you have had sex in a public place, where? i didnt

66. Have you ever cried during/after sex? yes before and after

67. Who is the oldest person you’ve had sex with? my bf he is only 4 months older tho

68. Who is the youngest person you’ve had sex with? my 1 ex with 6 months difference

69. Would you rather be in a relationship with a totally submissive partner or a totally dominant partner? none! but dominant is cool

70. How tall are you?  1.73M 

71. How much do you weigh?  60k  

72. What color is your hair naturally?   Dark brown

73. What size jeans do you wear?  40 and 42 (big legs and butts) 

74. What is your favorite color to wear?   to wear i like dark red or yellow but i love purple 

75. Do you have any piercings?    i wish

76. Do you have any tattoos?    no

77. Do you care how other people see you? alot   

78. Do you like sports?    i do

79. How do you feel about age differences in relationships?   if its not astonomic its ok

80. How do you feel about race differences in relationships?    i dont mind i love everyone <3

81. Do you believe in karma or fate?    i do

82. Do you keep a journal?    not anymore only when i was depressed

83. Describe the last dream you remember:   nazis bombing the place i was ...

84. Describe your favorite dream: i like those calm ones where im just chilling  

85. Where are some places you would like to visit?    japan and italy and france

86. Any upcoming concerts you want to attend?    fucking gorillaz but they dont come to portugal for 15 years

87. What music do you listen to when you are happy?    all kinds of music tbh

88. What music do you listen to when you are mad?    all kinds? im never mad

89. Do you like to burn candles or incense?    nah, they make my nose weird

90. What was the last alcoholic beverage you consumed?    hmm champagne?

91. What are your favorite alcoholic beverages?    i dont really drink so i think i dont have one

92. Do you smoke cigarettes or cigars? What about marijuana? none im an angel

93. Who is your number 1 friend and why is he or she there?    my bf cause he’s super happy for me to be me

94. Has anyone ever mistaken you for a family member?    yes

95. Is there anyone of your friends that you would ever consider having sex with?  oh god no! only if single

96. Would you ever have sex in the shower or the bath? on both

97. Have you ever kissed or had sex with someone of the same sex? i wish

98. Do you think your last ex still wants to be with you? nop

99. Ever wondered what it would be like dating the same gender as you? yes

100. What are your outlooks on gay/bisexual people? everyone is ok <3 i love everyone

101. How often do you brush your teeth? everyday

102. How often do you shower?  When was the last time you had a shower?day yes day no, yesterday

103. How often do you shave your legs? when i have to

104. Political affiliation? nop

105. Opinion on abortion? if ur not in condions to have a kid then do it

106. Opinion on immigrants/ immigration reform? if u need do it, just be nice to ppl

107. Should prostitution be legalized?    sure?

108. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? i would ask

109. If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don’t like and like so many things we don’t do? sometimes we do stuff we dont like to achive something good!

110. What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world? no more war pls

111. If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich? drawing and hugs

112. Would you break the law to save a loved one? yes

113. If you had to move to a state or country besides the one you currently live in, where would you move and why? porto maybe!

114. Why are you the person you are? i dont fucking know!

115. Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend? yes

116. Why do religions that support love cause so many wars? different conditions prolly

117. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you? fart in public

118. Were you happy when you woke up today? i guess?

119. What’s a fact about the last person who text messaged you? he loves me?

120. Want someone back in your life? yes

121. What are you excited for? new upcoming anime conventions

122. Are you scared to fall in love? nop

123. When is your next road trip? this friday to monday

124. What was the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? eat

125. Do you like to cuddle? yup loads

126. Have you ever kissed more than one person in 24 hours? nop

127. Plans for tomorrow? school and work

128. Do you care too much/not at all/just enough? too much unfortunatlly

129. How is life going for you right now? great yet stressfull

130. If you were offered a shot of whiskey right this second, would you accept? sure?

131. This time last year, can you remember who you liked? my bf

132. Could you stay in the same relationship for over a year? doing it for 2 years now

133. If you could have one super power what would it be? supa fast so i could finish the fucking essay

134. Background on your cell phone? yes scott pilgrim foto

135. What are you thinking about right this second? about responding this

136. Last book you read? How was it? harry potter the number 6 loved it

137. What is the last thing you bought? food

138. Do you live with your parents?  yes

139. Have you ever been caught sneaking out? not really

140. Have you ever met a celebrity? yes

141. What are you like when you’re drunk? i dont get drunk

142. What are you like when you’re high? i dont get high

143. Do you want children? yes

144. Do you want a church wedding? no

145. How many pillows do you sleep with? 1

146. Have you ever been scuba diving? no

147. Who was your first real crush? a stupid guy

148. What are you allergic to? spring in general

149. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? yes gonçalo,henrique,mariana

150. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? either is fine <3

151. How did you get your name? mom chose

152. Name one thing about your body you love? my cheeks and freckles

153. What is your biggest goal in life? getting money to live without help

154. Do you still have feelings for your ex? NOP HE WISHED

155. Do you think aliens are real? yes

156. What age did you start drinking? I DONT DRINK! its only on special ocasions

157. What do you think of President Obama? he cool and sweet

158. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? yes

159. Describe your dream girl/guy? girl-smaller than me or same high, short or medium size hair, dark brown hair (or ginger)and eye color, a lil curvy/chubby guy- talelr than me, big! like a bear! dark hair and eyes

160. Story of your first kiss?

he asked me if i kissed before and i lied saying yes we kissed LOL

161. Story of the first time you made out with someone? SAME THING

162. Story of the first time you had sex?

mutual concent with my bf at the time and we did it but as soon and i bled we stopped

163. When did you first have sex?

age 16? I THINK i dont remember dates!!!

164. First time you gave/ received oral sex?

same age

165. Do you still talk to the person you lost your virginity to?

no

167. Favorite fictional character (movie, book, tv show)?

rock lee still best babe

168. How many followers do you have on tumblr? What about twitter/ instagram?

175 tumblr and 200 and something on twitter i think

169. Are you friend with your parents on Facebook?

nop

170. First time you thought you were in love? When did you realize that you weren’t actually in love with that person?

11º grade

171. Do you talk to yourself?

all the time

172. How old will you be on your next birthday?

21

173. How did you meet the last person you kissed?

twitter and memes

174. Do you have any hickies? not right now

175. Turn ons? gentle touches

176. Turn offs?stupid  jokes in the middle

177. What qualities did you get from your mom? nose up is my moms, im caring and loving and defend my loved ones

178. What qualities did you get from your dad? didnt had the chance to know but..im tall?

179. How many siblings do you have? 1 brother

180. Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity? yes