#also just occured to me that i read this when i was like maybe 10 at the oldest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neptuneiris · 5 months ago

Text

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

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omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming.

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening.

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place.

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely.

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs.

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst.

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision.

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it.

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside.

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son."

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking.

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts.

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here.

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone.

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond.

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you.

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple.

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you.

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words.

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier.

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, truly."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #prince aemond

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wolfgirlcoven · 1 month ago

Text

My Experience with P-Shifters & Mythicals, and why I'm Anti Physical IDs for Alterhumanity.

[Massive TW for Cults, Abuse(Including Digital SA, including COCSA), Delusions + Validation/Encouragement of Delusion, and probably more that I cannot for the life of me think of off the top of my head]

Hello, I'm Phoenix, but you can also call me Silverthorn. I've been in the nonhuman community since 2011-2013, and initially got my start in P-Shifter/Mythical communities, the ones of most note being ArdaErellon, GrowingWings4Life(usually just called Grow Wings.), and other adjacent webs.com forums.

I'll be documenting my experience with the community chronologically to the best of my ability, but do be aware that it may be a bit splotchy, as my memory of it all is a little janky due to the trauma and the fact this occured over 10 years ago now. It is of importance to note: I am neurodivergent, I speak from the perspective of someone who has been dealing with undiagnosed autism since childhood, which in turn, did influence my level of understanding of the world. My memory is also a little messed up due to dissociation from childhood trauma.

2011 - 2012: The Start - My start with P-Shifting began in 6th grade, when I was 11. I had met someone, who I will refer to here as Dragon. Dragon was my closest friend, however this was NOT a good thing. I had begun awakening to my inherent nonhumanity, but you know, when you're young, you'll believe in very fantastical things. Dragon was a P-Shifter, and I thought I was too. This is how our friendship really solidified. What easily could have been innocent schoolyard RP became grounds for abuse, manipulation, etc. Dragon convinced me that everyone hated us, and people would actively run away from me because where I went, she followed. Dragon was notoriously an asshole to others, but she used this to convince me that everyone hated me.

2013-2015: Aka "The Peak". 2013 is when I entered the online P-Shifter scene. Now, I had read websites and guides on p-shifting prior to this, but this is when I actually got INVOLVED so to speak. After reading some of the Maximum Ride books, I began experiencing phantom shifts of wings, which in turn lead to me joining GrowingWings4Life (colloquially known as Grow Wings), a forum on webs.com for Avians and other mythicals. I, obviously, began attempting to grow wings. This is where I met my flock. I've named two of them here before, but for the sake of this post I will be using stand in names. I also got my first scoliosis dx at age 13, during a school evaluation. This will come up again in another section of this post.

Aqua was the first one I met, she was basically a sister to me. She was honestly the first REAL friend I had, to the point where we called eachother sis. It was through her where we met the rest of our flock, albeit most of them would separate except for Red. Red was another one of the flock, unlike the other key members (Julio and Cailen. I WILL namedrop them for the bullshit they did. Julio was 18, and I don't remember Cailen's age but I do believe she was older than me, Aqua, and Red. I think maybe 18 but I'm not Positive.), he was also 13, like Aqua and I.

Julio got kicked from the flock for trying to groom Aqua and I over kik (classic 2013 experience I know), and Cailen went separate ways after a breakup with Red (she did some HORRIFIC things to him, which I will not disclose here other than it being SA) Things with the flock started out good at first, I mean why wouldn't it? Of course, we also learned about Awtok. We genuinely believed in them, and in part, were responsible for bringing knowledge of Awtok to Grow Wings out of sheer FEAR for everyone's saftey. Awtok's chokehold on our flock specifically remained.

Enter G32: Another school friend of mine, and self-professed Keyblade master. Though not an avian and p-shifter like the rest of us, he was part of our flock. I do fully blame myself and take responsibility for getting him involved with the flock + the consequences of doing so. He got involved the summer of 2014, but I had known him prior, and trusted him. G32 was someone we went to for advice and whatnot. In a way, despite Red and I being the leaders of the flock (when we started dating in 2014), I'd consider G32 to be the one pulling everyone's strings.

It was through G32, that Red became convinced he was a monster. Again, wont go into full details but this lead him to spiral into full on delusions. I remember him texting me in a state of extreme distress one night because he had "seen" his "true form" in the mirror. Looking back, this was clearly a hallucination. He ended up having MULTIPLE experiences like this. Now, he had been having some experiences akin to this prior to G32's claims about Red's true nature, but it was only after those that things got as bad as they did, such as full on berseker shifts for what his species was. (According to G32 the species was like an offshoot of the heartless from Kingdom Hearts.)

G32 also, on multiple occasions, forged messages from AWTOK, usually through 3DS swapnote, and then also forged messages from other "keyblade masters" who got involved with the flock via fake phone numbers.

Back to Red, because of the sheer amount of abuse he went through, ended up repeating the cycle of abuse with me. What he did to me was not ok. He had, through Cailen's abuse, become to believe he was possessed by a succubus who was Cailen. This began his manipulation of me, going so far as for this "possession" to lead to basically the Succubus threatening to leave me if I did not engage in sexual text-rp/sexting with Red as a way to prove my love & devotion. It eventually stopped, though i cannot remember what caused it to stop. Again, we both were 14 and severely mentally ill. I DO NOT HOLD THIS AGAINST HIM, AND I FORGIVE HIM FOR THIS. WE BOTH WERE VICTIMS.

Now, Red was VERY remorseful of what had happened, though we never actually talked about it or mentioned it after that, though I wish we did. It pretty much was him just apologizing but not specifying the incident (most because I told him not to), and me not actually letting him confess to what had happened. I wish I would have let him speak, but I was a scared child. Like I said, looking back now, and not out of a place of hurt, I can recognize he and I were both victims of abuse.

Come 2015, shit with G32 really hit the fan. From forging messages from other keyblade wielders turning against the flock, threatening to kill us for being traitors by aligning ourselves with Red, and the like, to then, when we stood up for ourselves, claiming it was all fake and a lie he spun, and then back to threatening us with the keyblade wielders after. It got to a point where it almost became a physical altercation on school grounds the following day. It was after this that things fell apart. The flock stuck together but ultimately separated, with the last I've heard from any of them being in 2016.

2016 & Onward: 2016 I still held onto some P-Shifting beliefs, but had begun to break away from them. It was really only come 2018 that I had fully recognized the nature of my beliefs were steeped in delusion, albeit the occasional relapse into p-shifter thoughts does occur to this day. I'd be lying if I'd said I haven't attempted to p-shift despite knowing and accepting it's impossible.

Now, other things not in this timeline that did happen, but I didn't feel were as interwoven with my flock experience:

ArdaErellon - when GrowWings went down, this kinda became one of the main sites people went to. It's not up anymore but I do remember the admin, Tinnuwen, asking people for their IRL locations, like addresses and whatnot, in order to open portals near them so they could travel to the realm of ArdaErellon.

Razgriz Pack & Other Cyberpacks - I got involved with a cyberpack when I was 13, when I didn't want much to do with them they threatened to send their other werewolves after me lol. I Don't remember if it was Razgriz or a different pack that I was involved in, mostly because I didn't spend much time around them.

Why I'm Making This Post:

I make this post because I've seen a resurgence in the P-Shifter & Mythical communities. Moreso, I've seen this become accepted and welcomed into the alterhuman community, which poses a SIGNIFICANT threat to the saftey and wellbeing of others. I've seen people ACTIVELY encouraging and validating delusions of Clinical Lycanthropes/Zoanthropes, claiming that it is harmless. IT IS NOT, I KNOW FROM EXPERIENCE.

My wing delusions were encouraged, and we avians took any criticism of our attempts as threats and people just wanting to be assholes. Because of the repeated validation of my "physical" wing growth, i actively avoided getting treatment for my scoliosis for over 2 years. Like i said earlier in this post, during an exam at school, they felt my spine was curved. However, because I fully believed I was growing wings, I REFUSED to let my family take me to the doctor, refused to let them get x-rays of me, for fear that they'd discover my wings, because I was a terrified CHILD. This lead to my spine becoming so severely curved that I was at risk of my lungs collapsing. I fear to see what would have happened to me had I not eventually gotten surgery in 2015. The point is, the beliefs involved with subcultures such as p-shifters, holotheres, mythicals, etc. is inherently harmful. The denial to accept ones biological humanity, and the laws of physics that come with it, is a saftey risk. When people speak out about their experiences, they get dogpiled by the physical therian community, and victim blamed. When we explain why these things are harmful, we get accused of a whole slew of things, such as trying to make humans like us, or bring ableist by saying that encouraging delusion is harmful.

Me, Red, and Aqua should NOT have had to live out our teen years in fear of AWTOK, in fear of uncontrollable shifts, in fear of hunters, etc. We should have been able to have our formative teen years be normal. My friend Sundew, also known as @aesthetikins , was there when I was going through all of this, as we met in highschool. E knows first hand the amount of damage this stuff did to me, as again, e was there when it happened.

This is also the one time I feel OK to be That Guy and put this in the tags of the harmful groups I'm talking about, because maybe, JUST MAYBE, it'll save someone else from going through shit like what I went through. Edit: this is ok to reblog, and i actually encourage it

#therian #otherkin #alterhuman #nonhuman #physically nonhuman #physical therian #p-shifter #p-shifting #holothere #mythical

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suckerfordylansstuff · 6 months ago

Text

Not a date - Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin is certain you're dating someone. You, on the other hand, are not so sure.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: As you can see we're changing the style with this new post. You could consider this kind of a small prequel for "A date like no other", but mostly, I just wanted to write more of Dustin and Y/n's relationship (more will follow, inspiration has hit me). Plus, it was fun playing detective. Hope you enjoy! 💕

!This piece goes along my Steve Harrington series "New Journey", but can also be read as a standalone!

Timeline: After the winter dance, but before their first date.

“I have gathered you here today on an important issue.” Dustin was pacing around Mike's basement while all the rest of his friends followed him with their eyes “It is crucial that we take upon this matter with focus and determination. Not to mention stealthiness since a bit of spy work is going to occur.”

“Dustin, why are we here?” his dramatics had Max over the whole thing very quickly.

“It has come to my attention that my sister, my own blood, has been seeing someone behind my back and simultaneously lying to me about it.”

“And?” Lucas asked, not understanding his friend’s anger.

“What do you mean and? This is it!”

“You’re mad your sister has finally found someone?” Will was trying to understand Dustin’s motives.

“I’m mad she hasn’t told me about it. I mean, why would she do that? I certainly tell her everything.” his pacing hasn’t stopped from the moment he entered the basement.

“Maybe because she wants to focus on the new relationship and not on her little brother’s obnoxious opinions?” Max told him with a smile, making Dustin stop in his tracks.

“You’re new, you don’t get a say.” he pointed in her direction and continued his pattern on the floor.

“Dustin, what do you want us to do?” Mike sighed when he saw Dustin place large papers on top of a chair, opposite to them, a pen in his hand as he settled beside them. It reminded him of their teacher, and not in a good way.

“I want you to come with me and spy on her.” he removed his first blank paper, revealing a calendar with colorful dots on certain days “It all started a month ago. I realized she began going out a lot more than usual. I mean I love my sister, but let’s be honest, she doesn’t have many friends.” he pulled out another paper, this time a pie chart with all the colors they had previously seen on the calendar “So, I began tracking her behavior. When she would go out, when she would return, and try to figure out with whom. So far, I’ve noted 14 outings in the span of 29 days… She went out with Jonathan twice, once with Nancy, once with you, Max, and you, Eleven, for girl’s night. Three times with all of us and another three with me. That all makes 10. The other 4 are a mystery to me.” with each sentence, each ‘clue’, he was pointing the pen at every chart so the rest wouldn’t get lost

“When she hangs out with friends, I have noticed Y/n coming back at a decent hour, say around 10:30, at least 11:00. However, when she’s ‘on her own’ those hours defer.” the new paper showed the said hours with a big question mark at the end “I have caught her sneaking into the house well after 1:00 am! Clearly, she’s not out there on her own. But I haven’t been able to figure out with whom. I checked with both Nancy and Jonathan telling me that they had not seen her those specific days. She’s clearly with someone doing something, but when I ask her about what she did and where she went she outright lies to me, saying she was with Jonathan and/or Nancy.” he let the last paper fall flat on the chair, the pen rhythmically hitting his other palm “It is our mission to figure out who she is meeting on these days, so I can evaluate if I need to step in and help her.”

The kids all looked at one another, trying to see if they wanted in on this. His thinking could be correct, but the thought of him being wrong and giving them the chance to mess with him is what sealed the deal.

“Alright, we’re in.” Mike announced for all of them. Dustin’s face immediately lit up.

“But how do we know when their next meet-up is?” Lucas asked him.

“Already ahead of you my friend.” he began organizing the papers he had used, stacking them into his bag before putting it on “I overheard Y/n talk with my mother, saying she’s going out. Again, wouldn’t outright tell me with whom. So that’s why I came here, to find out if Nancy had any plans. As it turns out she did. But not with my sister, with Jonathan. Right?” his eyes fell on Will.

“Yeah, they are hanging out at ours.” Will confirmed Dustin’s words.

“Okay, so that excludes them from this ‘secret meet up’.” Max thought out loud.

“Precisely.” they were now getting out of the house from the basement’s door, making their way to their bikes.

“So… Where is she?” Eleven asked, her small voice was now loud enough for all to hear, turning their heads at once to look at Dustin.

Dustin wasn’t sure at the beginning where his sister would be. She had mentioned she would leave around 8:30. Now, he had left earlier to check on her small lie at the Wheeler’s, so their first stop was at his house to check if her car was still there. It was, which meant either of two things. She either walked to their meeting place (which was unlikely of her after everything that had happened to them, walking somewhere alone was a no-no for his sister). Or the person she was meeting picked her up. It left a lot of options open so he decided to head inside with the rest and look for more clues.

His mom greeted them, chatting a bit with the kids while Dustin looked around for any indication as to where she went. He noticed that her sneakers were missing, telling Dustin that they weren’t going somewhere fancy, so maybe their destination was the theater or maybe grabbing a bite somewhere.

“Hey, mom. I was thinking of eating the leftover pizza from last night after I come back. Y/n didn’t eat it, right?” he looked over at his mom, Tews on her lap as always.

“Oh, no, Dusty, she specifically said that she didn’t want to have anything since she’ll be going out to eat with her friends.”

Bingo.

Dustin excluded from the options list the diner where you used to work. Too many people knew you there and the secrecy wouldn’t last. So, they began roaming around the town trying to get a glimpse of you. They succeeded after a couple of tries. Lucas had caught a glimpse of your figure inside the burger place. You were sitting in a corner booth in the back of the store, your face bright, not only by the lights of the place but by your present company as well.

“Holy shit. Dustin was right.” Max climbed out of her bike, staring at the older sister of her new friend.

“Of course I was. Can you see who she is with?”

“No, his back is turned.” Lucas tried to wiggle around in an attempt to see who was with you. They couldn’t go

We’re gonna have to get inside.” Mike noted and Dustin agreed.

“Not all of us, we’ll draw attention. Will, you’re coming with me.” the said boy wasted no time and followed his friend toward the entryway.

“Why him?” Mike called out, annoyed he wasn’t getting in on the action.

“Because he’ll be quiet, unlike you.” Dustin whisper-yelled.

They get inside and make their way to the end of the front counter. When they peaked at the back, they had a clearer shot at the two figures. Dustin could clearly see your big, bright smile, but the guy you were with was sitting opposite of you, meaning they could only see his back

“We still can’t see his face.”

“Wait… I know that hair.” Dustin’s eyes squinted as he focused on the person in question. The waiter had approached them, his lips moving, probably asking them if everything was okay. It was then when the mysterious guy turned his head, making him visible to him, a relieved sigh falling from his lips “Oh, it’s just Steve.”

He and Will went outside without alerting you, joining the others once again.

“Okay, people, crisis averted. It was only Steve, just a friendly meet-up.” he announced to his friends before he grabbed his bike, ready to return home.

“Sure.” Max smirked his way, suddenly making a frown appear on Dustin’s face.

“Uh… Dustin? I don’t think this is very friend-like.” Mike was pointing to the restaurant. Dustin turned and met the horror. Steve had now switched his seat, joining you on your side. His arm was around your shoulders, your faces way too close for his liking. And then it happened. Steve kissed you.

Dustin was waiting for you to return back home. He was in the dark, his mother fast asleep, not realizing her own son was stewing hot. He was ready. Ready to tell you he knows your secret and ready to express his anger. He liked Steve, he didn’t like showing it, but he did. He was funny and honest with him, and a guy. He had a guy friend. Someone whom he could rely on when seeking advice. He knew he could come to you about everything, but sometimes he felt too embarrassed to say certain things. He was getting older, more ‘mature’ as his mother had said, and Steve had been through those things before, therefore could give him the advice he needed.

He liked Steve, but now he was afraid he was going to lose him… and you. You always wanted to be in a relationship and now that you were in one, you were going to spend all your time with each other, forgetting all about the party and mainly him. Or you would eventually break up and he would have to choose your side, his sister’s, and forcing him to say goodbye to his friend.

It all felt unacceptable to him, so he had to tell you about it.

Finally, he heard a car stop outside. After a couple of minutes, your keys were daggling as you opened the door. He watched you come inside, a lingering smile on your face as you took off your jacket and placed it on the hook beside the door. You were in the process of taking off your shoes when he decided to intervene.

“Hello, sister.”

He startled you, a small yelp coming from your lips as you squinted your eyes to see where your brother was hiding “Dustin? What are you doing in the dark? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he countered back, catching you by surprise

“What?”

“How was your night?”

“Oh… It was really fun actually, thanks for asking. But this still doesn’t answer my question as to what you’re still doing up.” your arms were now folded in front of your chest, thinking you had the upper hand here.

“Oh, I just had a simple question really. Who were you with?”

It took you a second to form your question, confusion rising inside you “What?”

“I was over at Mike’s today and I stumbled upon Nancy.” Dustin stood up from the armchair and walked closer to you as he explained “I asked her if she was on her way to come get you, but she told me she wasn’t meeting with you. She was actually going to meet up with Jonathan for a date at his place.”

“Oh…” was all that came from your lips.

“I know who you met tonight. I followed you and found out you are secretly dating Steve.” his finger was accusingly pointing at your figure. He didn’t know what reaction he was really expecting from you but it certainly wasn’t what you said next.

“I’m not dating him, Dustin.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not dating.” you shrugged your shoulders and sat down on the couch.

“But he kissed you. I saw it!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, okay? It’s all very confusing.” your head your resting on top of your palms. You looked defeated, confused, sad, a whole different side of you than the one he had seen at the restaurant. He slowly approached you, sitting next to you. You looked up and saw him looking at you, a silent invitation to explain “It all started after we dropped you off at the ball. We happened to dance a little and it ended in a kiss. After that, we’ve been hanging out as much as we could and, yes, I admit, some kissing has gone down, but I don’t know what we are.”

Dustin noted that your voice was small but your feeling big “Do you like him?”

You looked up and locked eyes with your brother. You hadn’t been able to tell no one this, and you had no idea how much it was eating at you to get it out before this conversation “Very much.”

“Then I’m certain it will all work out.”

And just like that Dustin had forgotten all about his speech. He could still remember the way you smiled at him, thanking him with a big hug. It was the same smile when you picked up the phone, a couple of days later, Steve’s name falling from your lips. It was a soft one, your focus entirely on the voice coming from the phone, from his friend. When you finally hung up, a small shriek sounded all around the room. After just a moment he found out you were excited, beyond excited because he had asked you out on a date.

“Didn’t you go on one like yesterday?” he had asked.

“This is the first time he uses the word date, Dustin. The first time!”

He secretly smiled at your antics, even if in front of you he called it gross. When you returned home after that so-called ‘first date’, bliss was written all over your face. The next day, you all were meeting with the party for a campaign, the first time you would include Steve in your game. The first time he would see you two together officially for the first time. It was funny seeing him make all the wrong decisions and getting himself killed in the first thirty minutes. It was hilarious seeing you and him bicker about what you should do next. Steve making it his business to judge you all based on your actions. And it was certainly sweet when he would cheer with you after a successful roll. It didn’t seem all that different to him; your behavior.

It was after the campaign when Steve was talking his ear off on the way to their house about what movie you should see at the next movie night with the kids, that it truly hit him. Nothing would change. You would still be his sister and Steve would still be his friend. It couldn’t be that bad. Especially, if he saw his sister so happy every day.

If you want to be tagged just ask!

Taglist: @bookscoffeandotherstuff @i-am-the-coffee-queen @bi-andready-tocry @enchantedcruelsummer @daddystevee @elite4cekalyma @hayadora @hannarudick @thecaptainsgingersnap @lookalivesunshine-x @sarasmismyonlydefence @astream-ofconsciousness @the-haikyuu-hoe @mileven-reddie @mochminnie @synonymforlame @teamkiall @samanthadegaro @the-passionate-freak @thesailbells @i-mmunity @marvelouspottering @mrs-diggory @mydarlingharry @beepbeephargrove @mikariell95 @sweetdreamsshifter @paninipress @anolddayslover @10minutesofscreentime @bookfrog242 @onecrazydirectioner @harrycanyonmoonn @grippleback-galaxy @doctorsgirl262 @mayonesavegana @inkpot-winters @le-who-zer-her @mysticgardenpolice @untitledarea @kahhorri

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fanfic #dustin henderson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you

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joannechocolat · 2 years ago

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On Power, and on Powering Through, and Why They’re Really Not the Same

I don’t pay much attention to personal attacks in reviews. It comes as the flipside of success; an attempt by the critic to puncture what they see as too much success. But I still remember one review, just after the film of Chocolat, when two of my novels happened to be in the Top 5 at the same time, in which a (male) newspaper critic referred to me dismissively as a premenopausal woman writer. I was a little taken aback. Clearly, it was meant to disparage, but I was only 35, ten years away from the perimenopause. What exactly did he mean? It wasn’t a comment about the book (which I doubt he had even read). The obvious misogyny aside, it seemed to express resentment, not of my books, but of me, myself, my right to take up space in his world. That word – premenopausal – was at the same time a comment on my age, my looks, my value, and a strong suggestion that someone like me shouldn’t be this successful, shouldn’t be writing bestsellers, shouldn’t be so – visible.

I don’t recall the name of the man, or the paper for which he was writing. He was far from being the only journalist who felt I didn’t deserve success. I shrugged off the unpleasant comment, but he’d meant it to hurt, and it did. I still wonder why he – and his editor - thought that was appropriate. I also wonder why, 20 years on, women are still dealing with this kind of thing. It’s still not enough for a woman to be successful in her chosen field. Whatever her achievements, you can be pretty sure that at some point, some man in his 50s or 60s – maybe an Oxbridge graduate, author of an unpublished novel or two - will offer his opinion on her desirability, either in the national Press, or most likely nowadays, by means of social media. The subtext is clear: women who don’t conform to societal values of what a woman should be are asking for this kind of treatment; especially those who dare to achieve more than their detractors.

10 years after that nasty review, I finally began the journey into perimenopause. No-one told me it was happening. No-one in the media was talking about it at the time. Even my doctor never thought to mention that my symptoms – the insomnia, headaches, mood swings, anxiety, depression, sleep paralysis, hair loss, brown patches on my skin – might have a single origin. I began to feel I was losing my mind: as if I were starting to disappear. I started to doubt my own senses. I blamed it all on the stress from my job. My mother had powered through menopause – or so she led me to believe – and made no secret of her contempt for modern women who complained, or treated the symptoms as anything more than a minor inconvenience.

And so I did the same. I powered through; and when at last I began to experience the classic symptoms of menopause - irregular bleeding, hot flushes, exhaustion, night sweats so bad that I would awake in sheets that were wringing wet – it did not occur to me to seek help. After over a year of this, I finally went to my doctor, who took a few tests, cheerfully announced I was menopausal, and when I inquired after HRT, advised me to power through – that phrase again - and let Mother Nature take her course. The internet was slightly more helpful. I took up running, lost weight, cut down on alcohol, downed supplements and sleeping pills and vitamin D, and felt a little better. Then, breast cancer came to call, and by the time my treatment was done, the symptoms had more or less disappeared, or at least had been superseded by the symptoms of chemo. I congratulated myself at having powered through cancer as well as surviving menopause.

But two years later, I feel old. I look that way, too. I’ve aged ten years. Some of that’s the cancer, of course. I was quite open about my treatment when I was powering through it – partly in order to pre-empt any questions about my hair loss or any of the all-too visible effects of three courses of chemo. Not that it stopped the comments, though. Even at my lowest ebb, a sector of social media made it clear that my only concern should be to look young and feminine to anonymous men on Twitter.

Right now, I don’t feel either. My hair has gone grey and very thin. My skin, too, seems thinner; both physically and mentally. At a recent publishing event, several acquaintances failed to recognize me; others just looked through me as if I had become invisible. Invisibility would be a relief; I find myself dressing for camouflage. I tend to wear baggy black outfits. I got my OBE last week. Photographs in the Press show me talking to Prince William. I’m wearing a boxy black trouser suit, flat shoes and a red fedora. I think I look nice. Not glamorous, but comfortable; quirky; unpretentious.

On a thread of largely supportive messages, one Twitter user pops up to say: Jesus, who’d accept an honour looking like that middle-aged disaster? @Joannechocolat thought she’d make an impact? She needs a stylist. If you look in the dictionary for the definition of “dowdy”, it features this photo.

It’s not the same man who belittled me over 20 years ago. But the sentiment hasn’t changed. Regardless of your achievements, as a woman, you’ll always be judged on your age and fuckability. I ought to be used to this by now. But somehow, that comment got to me. Going through menopause isn’t just a series of physical symptoms. It’s how other people make you feel; old, unattractive, and strangely ashamed.

I think of the Glass Delusion, a mental disorder common between the 14th and 17th centuries, characterized by the belief that the sufferer was made of glass. King Charles VI of France famously suffered from this delusion, and so did Princess Alexandra Amélie, daughter of Ludwig 1st of Bavaria. The condition affected mostly high-profile individuals; writers, royals, intellectuals. The physician to Philip II of Spain writes of an unnamed royal who believed he was a glass vase, which made him terribly fragile, and able to disappear at will. It seems to have been a reaction to feelings of social anxiety, fear of change and the unknown, a feeling both of vulnerability and invisibility.

I can relate. Since the menopause, I’ve felt increasingly broken. I don’t believe I’m a glass vase, and yet I know what it feels like to want to be wrapped in a protective duvet all day. I’ve started buying cushions. I feel both transparent, and under the lens, as if the light might consume me. On social media, I’ve learnt to block the people who make mean comments. To make myself invisible. To hide myself in plain sight. I power through, but sometimes I think: why do women power through? And who told them that powering through meant suffering in silence?

Fortunately, some things have changed since I went through the menopause. Over the past few years, we’ve seen more people talking about their experiences. Menopause is likely to affect half the population. We should be talking about it. If men experienced half these symptoms, you bet they’d be discussing it. Because power isn’t silence. You’d think that, as writer, I would have worked that out sooner. Words are power. Sharing is strength. Communication breaks down barriers. And sometimes, power means speaking up for those less able to speak for themselves.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see my mother’s mouth; my father’s eyes. I see the woman I used to be; the woman I will one day become. I see the woman my husband loves, a woman he still finds attractive. A woman with a grown-up child who makes her proud every single day. A menopausal woman. A cancer survivor. A woman who writes books that make other people sit up and think. A woman who doesn’t need the approval of some man she’s never met to be happy. She can be happy now. I can. And finally, I understand. Powering through isn’t about learning to be invisible. It isn’t about acceptance, or shame, or letting Nature take its course, or lying about feeling broken. It’s looking beyond your reflection. It’s seeing yourself, not through the lens of other people’s expectations, but as yourself. The sum of everything you’ve been; of everyone who loves you. Of claiming your right to be more than glass, or your reflection in it. The right to be valued. The right to shine, regardless of age or reproductive status. Men seldom question their own right to these things. But women have to fight for them. That’s why it’s so exhausting.

This morning, instead of putting on my usual baggy black sweatshirt, I chose a bright yellow pullover. I looked at myself in the mirror. It’s not a great colour on me now, but it feels like dressing in sunshine. My husband came into the bathroom. You look –

My husband rarely gives compliments. I can’t remember the last time he commented on how I was dressed. I wondered what he was going to say. Dowdy, perhaps? Inappropriate? Like a menopausal woman in dire need of a stylist?

At last, he said: When you smile like that, you look like a friendly assassin.

A friendly assassin. I’ll take that.

Shining like the sun. That’s me.

#menopause #cancer

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chenlezip · 6 days ago

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jaemin, scream ♡

⤷ summary : when y/n receives a mysterious phone call and finds that her friends are being killed, she suspects that a serial killer may be on the prowl, who is also linked to her mother's murder.

warnings : death, swearing, if you've watched scream you'll know :) idk what other warnings to put im so sorry!! not proof read either eek

annas note : sooo.. i wanted to write a lil something about jaemin and scream.. and this is the better idea i had in mind — one thing you guys NEED to know about me is that i am a horror fanatic.. and so pairing this with jaemin was super fun (maybe i’ll make a horror fic series with nct one day..)

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you're in your bedroom, sat at your desk on your computer as you worked on an assignment. you heard glass breaking outside your window and you stood up, walking closer to check it out. maybe it was one of the cats that roamed around your street?

as you peek out your window, you feel a hand grab your shoulder and you scream, pulling back. "hey- it's just me," your boyfriend jaemin says gently.

"jaem, what the- what the hell are you doing here?" you scold him as he makes his way inside of your room from the window, "you sleep in that?" he gestures to your night dress.

you sigh, "yes i sleep in this. what are you doing here though? my dads in the other room, you can't be here!" as soon as those words left your lips, your dad opened the door but it was jammed with your wardrobe door being open.

you walk over, talking to him as jaemin hid down the side of your bed. as your dad left, he got up, holding one of your plushes as you asked again why he was here.

"well, it occured to me that.. i've never snuck through your bedroom window. i was home.. watching television.. the uh.. the exorcist was on." he continues, "it got me thinking of you."

you're a little confused, "it did?" you ask. "all the good stuff was cut out, it was edited for tv and it got me thinking of us.. how two years ago we started off hot and heavy and now things have changed.." you shake your head at his words, knowing what he's getting at.

"oh, so you thought you could climb through my window and we'd have a little raw footage?" you ask and he laughs, "no.. no, i wouldn't dare think of breaking your underwear rule."

it was the next day at school, you were sat on the edge of the fountain with your boyfriend, jeno, yeri and haechan. they were rambling on about the recent murder of someone you all knew - winter.

"hey, jen, didn't you used to date winter?" you ask as jeno looked away from his girlfriend to you, smirking, "yeah for like.. two seconds." haechan butts in, "before she left you for anton~" he teased. yeri moved away from jeno to look at him, "i thought you dumped her for me?"

"i did. he's full of shit," he glared over at haechan again. "and are the police aware you dated the victim?" haechan pushed up his glasses, pretending to act nerdy. "hey- what are you saying? that i killed her?" jeno and yeri both have an argument with him, and you groan to yourself, not again.

you end up leaving them, kissing jaemin goodbye as you left for the bus home. after doing chores, watching the news but immediately turning it off after they showed your mother who got killed, you just decided to take a nap to take your mind off of things.

you soon awoke to your phone ringing, the loud dial tone ringing through your ears. you whined, "who the hell is calling me?" you ask yourself out loud as you lean over from where you were on the couch, grabbing the phone and putting it to your ear. "hello?" you ask with a sigh as you hear your friend, yeri coming through the other line, "practice ran late. i'm on my way, okay?"

you check the time, "it's past seven.." "don't worry~ winter and her boyfriend didn't cut it until after 10, you're fine." yeri says as she continued, "i'm gonna swing by the video store for us, okay?"

"whatever. just hurry, okay?" "see ya, n/n~" yeri hung up the phone. you smile and let out another soft sigh, placing the phone back on the stand but after a couple seconds, it starts ringing again. "yeri, just get in the car-"

it's not yeri. a creepy voice rings through your ears as he says your name in a greeting. you run a hand through your hair, "uh.. hi, who is this?" you ask softly as you sit up on the couch. "you tell me," he says as you scrunch your brows in confusion, "i-i have no idea.."

"scary night, isn't it? with the murders and all it's like something out of a horror movie." you chuckle, "haechan! you gave yourself away.. are you calling from work? because yeri's on her way over." you get up from the couch.

"do you like scary movies, y/n?"

"i like that thing you're doing with your voice, hae, it's sexy," you giggle to yourself as you turn on your lamp. "what's your favourite scary movie?" 'haechan' asked you. you rub your chin, "oh come on, you know i don't like that shit."

"why not? too scared?" the voice asked as you sigh, "no. it's just.. what's the point? they're all the same. some stupid killer stalking some big-chested girl who can't act, who's always running up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. it's insulting." you explain, ranting about the movies that you've seen.

you shouldn't of said that because a tall figure wearing a cloak and a ghost face mask appears and attacks you. you try running out the front door but you're fumbling with the locks so you just run upstairs, screaming. you make it into your room and close the door, locking it and backing away from it. your heart is pumping, your thoughts are clouded and you feel petrified. what the hell just happened?

you hear someone once again at your window and it's your boyfriend, jaemin. "jaemin!" you shout for him as you run toward him, helping him in. "the doors locked. i heard screaming - is everything alright?" jaemin looks at you with a worried and concerned expression. "the killers here.. he's in the house!" you bring him closer to you as you ease into the comfort he gives you, you needed this.

"he's in the house. he's got a knife, he's gonna kill us.." you mumble as you try and cling onto his sweatshirt. "he's gone." he whispers to you, holding you tightly against him. you sob into his shoulder before feeling and hearing a phone drop beside him on the floor. you look down and gasp, pulling away from him.

"what?" jaemin asked as you glared at him, removing his arms from your waist, "n/n, what?"

you shake your head and whimper, creating enough space between the two of you before you unlock your room door and run out of it. "wait! wait wait wait wait! what's going on?" you hear jaemin chasing behind you as you continue to try and escape him. "y/n, come back!" he shouts from the stop of the staircase.

you open your front door and scream, seeing the ghost face mask being held up. jisung, who was at the door holding it up, screams too. "sorry! i found this, come on!" he shouts at the other officers, ushering them inside.

jisung finds jaemin and detains him, shoving him roughly against the hood of his car. "alright come on, keep your hands together."

after a rough couple of days and staying close with yeri ignoring your boyfriend, she takes you to a party that jeno is hosting. you thought about not going but you really needed something to take your mind off of everything that happened so you end up going. you enter the kitchen as yeri places bags down on the kitchen counter, smiling at her boyfriend.

you both end up laying on the couch in the living room, jeno following as he brings yeri to his chest and smiles. you look through the movies that haechan has, "how come jamie lee curtis is in all of these movies?" you ask. haechan smiled, leaning near you, pressing his hands together in a prayer, "she's the scream queen."

"with that set of lungs, she should be.." jeno butts in, someone adding a "yeah.." to agree with him. yeri rolled her eyes, looking at you, "tits, you see?"

after spending a couple hours at the party, the curfew ends and everyone starts leaving. "yeri, come on!" you shout upstairs. you haven't seen her since she left to get drinks for jeno. you're a little worried. you turn to jeno who is seeing the party goers out the front door, smiling.

"do you know where she is?" you ask as jeno shakes his head, "i haven't seen her." and then you hear 'agh!'. you gasp, turning around to the front door and seeing jaemin smiling sheepishly. "oh.. jaemin, hey," you give him a small greeting as he looks at you. jeno seems to act suspicious, rubbing his chin, "jaem, hmm.. i wonder what you're doing here."

"was hoping i could talk to n/n, alone."

and he.. did have the chance to and a little more than that, you both got dressed after having an intimate moment in the bedroom upstairs. "you still don't think it was me, do ya?" jaemin asked you as he glared at you from behind, sitting on the floor tying his laces. you chuckle, turning around and sitting to face him, "no. no. i was just thinking, if it were you, it'd be a very clever way to throw me off track."

as you were talking about things, jaemin leans into you and before you know it, ghostface was behind him. "oh my god- jaemin, watch out!" you scream as he gets 'stabbed' multiple times, "oh.. my god.. jaemin.." you whimper.

after an extreme chase with ghostface and escaping the house, you find yourself back there because you saw a cop car outside. you're searching jisung's knocked out body and find a gun, haechan shouts for you, "i found yeri! i think she's dead i think jeno did it-" he panics as you aim it toward him, "stop right there!" jeno runs and stops beside haechan, "don't listen to him y/n!"

you decide to run inside the house and you see jaemin, he fell down the stairs and groaned, "y/n.." you help him up and lead him to the front door, "we need help.." he shakes his head as he opens the front door and haechan pushes his way inside. "look- i think jenos gone mad!"

"we all go a little mad sometimes," jaemin smirked as he turned toward haechan, a sinister look on his face. "fuck!" haechan whispers loudly to himself before getting shout in the shoulder, shouting out in pain and falling to the floor. "hae!" you shout.

jaemin chuckled, "anthony perkins, psycho.." you run over to haechan, kneeling over him as you stare at your so called boyfriend. "no.." you whisper as you try and run but you bump into jenos chest, staring up at him as you beg for him to help you. he holds a voice changer to his mouth, smirking, "surprise y/n."

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk @astrasng

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letmereedusyou · 18 days ago

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i'm not yours - part 9

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

Daryl keeps looking for the clues connecting anyone to your beating incident, and you try to fix his vinyl player while he's out of the house. When he comes back you have a sweet conversation and finally go back to being friends again.

words: 2.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of killing (walkers and people)

A/N: Hello, muffins! Here I am with another part. I checked for mistakes 3 times, but it seems okay to me. Again, English is not my first language so the errors will probably occur to the English natives. I can also say already that there are going to be 15 parts to this, so we have 6 parts to go! <3

Read previous part here!

NEXT PART HERE: part 10

Daryl visited you and took care of you every single day for weeks. It almost felt like nothing had changed between you two; like everything was normal again. But was it really? Or was it just a façade that you two put up so you didn't have to deal with the unresolved issues? You tried not to think about it too much and just enjoyed the fact that Daryl was close again, even though he wasn't very chatty these days. Maybe he's still holding a grudge about your feelings for him, or maybe he just doesn't know how to return to being your friend again. He would bring you new books and some comics to read, so you wouldn't get bored, but boredom got you pretty fast after reading your third book in a week. You started missing movies right about then. You thought about your favourite TV shows and how your family would watch them all together after dinner. Now, all you can do is push through with your memories of it and an incredible imagination.

He would cook for you, usually something simple and quick that you could reheat if you wanted to, before vanishing for entire nights, trying to find out who had beaten you up. You had your suspicions, but you didn't tell him about it. Why? You were scared of what would happen. The information, or rather a clue, would make him go into a fight mode, for sure. You knew him well enough to admit that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself.

That didn't stop him from continuously asking you about the details or anything you remembered from the fight. No matter how many times you told him that it was dark and you didn't see or hear them, as they did not speak, just occasionally grunted while driving their feet into your body. He kept asking and trying to make sense of who would want to do this to you. Your tongue itched with an answer. For you, it was obvious.

You were glad that he was clueless like this. Maybe he just didn't want to believe it or found it hard to create that type of scenario in his head. Maybe it was too much for him to handle right about now. You didn't blame him, he had a lot on his plate as of late - his best friend fell in love with him, his girlfriend broke up with him because of the best friend, and he has chores and duties in Alexandria that he has to do, even if he is tired and doesn't want to, and now he turned into a detective, trying to solve a case - all of it probably making a huge mess in his brain.

You busy yourself with some reading once again, but it was starting to get excruciatingly boring. How many times can you read the same plot in multiple books? Putting it down on the sofa armrest, you suddenly remembered that you still had Daryl's vinyl player that needed to be fixed. That would be a good distraction, you thought and slowly pushed yourself up. The pain was less prominent now, so you could move a little bit better, although Daryl would scold you for even trying. It didn't matter how many times you said you felt fine and walking and moving around didn't hurt much anymore, he dragged you back to the sofa every single time. This time, he wasn't here, so you could freely roam around for a while.

You step into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. Reaching up onto the shelf, you pull the vinyl down, alongside many different tiny parts in a white cloth bag. You also pick up your screwdrivers, glue and anything else you'd need before attempting repair. Once you got everything you needed, you took it to the living room and put it on top of the coffee table. Leaning down, just enough to not feel pain in your ribs, you examined the vinyl player. You were a good tinkerer and you had a good understanding of electronic shit, although the player was old which required some knowledge about old electronics. You didn't have that, but you decided to try anyway.

After hours of fiddling and fidgeting, glueing and trying to pull tiny bits apart and put them back together again, you sigh deeply realising that making that playing vinyl records on this thing is going to need more than just a couple hours of repair. You most definitely will need some help from Eugene, as he is the only person with enough knowledge about this stuff.

After another hour of carefully glueing the tiny, broken bits to the exterior of the machine, you feel drowsy and you close your eyes for a minute, just to rest them. Before you realise it, you start quietly snoring, a screwdriver loosely in your hand. Your mind is blank for the first time since the incident. You feel like you can fully enjoy some sleep. Using your brain for more than reading books was a good idea, after all.

Daryl's head started to hurt about two hours ago when he checked the path you were beaten up on for the bazillion times. He was trying so hard to find out who attacked his best friend that the rage of not knowing was slowly sipping out through his veins. He could've sworn there was a red, hot, bright aura around him.

He went to the place where she was beaten up, thinking that he would get some good clues - maybe a blood trail or some footprints, or maybe a goddamn piece of fabric that was tugged off of the aggressor's clothes, but whoever did this was smarter than that and cleared everything within a couple of miles radius, making sure that there was no way to track them. He felt impressed at how meticulously they'd worked to cover the tracks, but most of all he felt helpless and angry.

It's been weeks since he started looking and Y/N wasn't much help. She kept saying it was too dark to see and she didn't catch a glimpse of any of the people. It didn't help that they hadn't spoken during the fight either, because maybe if they did, Daryl could've track them by the tone of their voice, questioning everyone in Alexandria one by one. But since there were no clues, he had a hard time finding anything. It bothered him to the point he kicked and punched an innocent tree a couple of times.

He finally decided that it was time to go back and check on his best friend. He wasn't going to find anything anyway, so he may as well use his time to help her recover and get on their feet again. Frankly, helping her recover helped him relax, even after the hardest of days. He didn't speak much around her, his mind still recalling the fact that she was indeed in love with him, but he tried to move past it as best as he could. Nothing was more important than her getting better right now.

Besides catching the people who did this to her, and potentially beheading them.

When he opens the doors, the sound of her snoring comes to his ears and he can't help but huff a half laugh at it. He remembers the countless times they went on supply runs and her snoring attracted walkers to their location. He never told her about it, he just took care of the walkers silently.

He takes his crossbow off his back and leans it against the wall before walking into the living room. He stops in his tracks for a second when he sees what lies on the coffee table in front of her.

The vinyl player.

The same one that ended up being chucked out of the window by Leah when they had a fight a few weeks ago.

His brow furrows as he steps closer to the table. He realises that she must've been present when he and Leah had a fight. Has she heard them? What exactly did she hear? How did she end up at his house that evening? How did she get the vinyl player and why would she take it?

He looks at her, asleep with a screwdriver in her hand. She looks peaceful. The bruises on her face faded a little, changing colour from purple and reds to blues and greens. The cut on her lip was healing nicely, a scab was drying out. Her hair looked messy, brought up in some sort of ponytail, where many different strands were sticking out from the sides of her head.

He looks at the vinyl player again and takes another step closer. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping, in his confused and surprised state, and his boot kicks the coffee table, making one of the tools roll off and fall to the floor with a clash.

It wakes her up with a jump, and she rubs your eyes a little, trying to make her vision less blurry.

"Daryl?" her voice sounds groggy and faint.

"How did you get my vinyl player?" Daryl asks with no hesitation, the urgency in his voice is enough to make her come to her senses.

She looks at the coffee table and her eyes widen a little, like she was surprised to see the vinyl player too. But no, it wasn't surprise, it was... embarrassment. Like she got caught doing something she shouldn't. She keeps looking at the vinyl player and he can see her cheeks flush and uncertainty flashing across her face. She was definitely feeling the need to escape from the situation, but she knew there was no escape. All she could do was face it.

"I...I found it on the ground," her voice is quiet. When she looks at him, he knows the answer to the questions yet to come, but felt like he must ask them.

"Found it on the ground?"

"Yes."

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"Outside your house," she says, avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red.

"When?"

"If you are asking me if I've heard you and Leah fighting, then yes. I have," she says; a sigh escapes her lips.

The silence was deafening for good couple of minutes. Daryl decided to take a seat next to her, staring at the vinyl player. She stayed quiet, looking at it as well. He was trying to figure out how to ask more questions; how to prod about what she's heard... what she knew. His hand reaches towards the platter, dragging his fingers on top of it, feeling the cracks.

"I haven't heard much," she finally breaks the silence and he looks at her. "I left pretty much straight away."

"But you've heard something," he says slowly.

"Yeah," she licks her dry lips. "Is it worth getting into it?"

He thinks about her question. Is it? Is it worth it? Does he really need to know what she heard? It wasn't that important, Leah and him are over now. But part of his brain believed it was crucial to know. He needed that information, needed to know how much she knows...

"Yeah," he says slowly. "I want to know."

"Well, I've heard her screaming about me..." she starts carefully, biting the inside of her cheek. "Something about me knowing more than her."

Daryl looks at her for a second, maybe trying to gauge her reaction to it, or maybe he was trying to focus on anything else than Leah's words echoing through his mind. He knew that she indeed knew more than Leah, more than anyone ever. He felt the most comfortable sharing with her. He remembers all the times he opened up and it felt great to be heard and listened to, probably the first time in his entire life. Somehow, he knew she was the right person to tell things. Trustworthy.

Back at the CDC, when he first opened his mouth to share, he was nervous. What if she judged? But all of this melted away when she sat there, listening, nodding, not asking questions, just soaking the information in. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, but it made him want to open up even more, get the stuff off his chest. Once he finished, it felt... cathartic. Like he was lighter.

He looks up to her eyes.

"I also heard her saying that... you're not worth it," she added and looked away. He could sense her anger in the words spoken, spitting them out like they were acid on her tongue.

"Mm," he murmured quietly, looking away from her and at his boots. He doesn't get embarrassed very easily, and yet his cheeks seemed to burn a little.

Again, the silence resounded in the house, you could almost hear the buzzing of electricity from one of the lamps. Daryl couldn't look up. Leah's words seemed to be burned into his mind, slowly making him believe he is not worth anything. He started to believe he doesn't deserve good things in life.

"It's not true. Leah was wrong," she says, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing it tightly.

"And you say that as a person who's in love with me?"

"I'm saying it as your best friend," her words hit him like a tone of bricks and he finally looks up at her, eyebrow raised. "You are worth so much."

Daryl wants to believe her. No, he needs to believe her. For his sake, for the sake of his mental stability. He takes a few deep breaths and and then looks down at her hand on his knee. His hand gently places over hers and he squeezes it lightly. Her reassurance was everything. You could say the only opinion he cared about these days was her, even though they haven't been great friends for awhile.

He beats himself up for not reaching out sooner. He hated he fact he's lost her for so long, and lost himself in the process. She loves him. Yes, it is more than a friend, but ultimately, she loves him. For who he is. She never judged, never tried to change him or push him to do things he didn't enjoy. She's one person he always felt comfortable with. He still does, even after she told him she loved him.

He thinks back to the time and thinks about why he was so angry at her for that. She wasn't making moves at him. She just... shared her feelings. Angrily - that was an understatement - but still. He sort of understood why she'd blow up the way she did. He spoke about Leah quite a lot and thinking about it now, it may have been to convince himself and her that he was happy with her and he did love her. Part of him did love Leah. But maybe it wasn't as strong feeling as he thought it was...

"You okay?"

Her voice brings Daryl back. He huffs and nods lightly.

"Yeah. I will be," he says and his lips curve into a smile.

"I mean it, Daryl. You're worth it. And I hope you do find someone who appreciates you," her little smile makes him scoff.

"Someone like you?" he retorts.

"No," she shakes her head vigorously. "Not me. You made it clear it's never going to happen and I accept it. But I hope you find someone who can make you believe you are worth everything and more."

Daryl looks at her with a grimace on his face. He did say that, didn't he? He said that her and him will never going to happen. For some reason, her words made him feel sad, just for a second. He wouldn't have been able to register it if he wasn't focusing on it that much. He shakes his head.

"I've sworn off love and relationships," he leans back on the couch and put his head on the sofa back. "It's just going to be me, my crossbow and my best friend."

"Your best friend?"

Her smile beams from ear to ear and Daryl can't help but notice the shine in her eyes when he said it. Like she wasn't sure if he was serious about it. Like she waited months for him to come back, to finally be her friend again.

"Of course. Can't live my sorry ass life without ya," he sighs. "Who else am I going to tease and laugh at?"

"You mean laugh with?"

"That too."

She giggles and he realises how much he really missed her all these months. He missed her laugh and their banter. The way he felt so free around her. The way he knew she could tell him she killed someone and he would help her cover up the tracks. She was his best friend. And going back to being friends with her felt good.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction

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xenosagaepisodeone · 2 months ago

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been thinking about how collecting things acts as a form of play recently. obviously, certain hobbies like rock collecting involve aspects of what we would conventionally think of as 'play' (searching, digging, dusting and examining, etc), and the process of displaying something is often too, play (though we generally call it decorating). collecting anime figures or vintage action figures in particular often invokes a kind of play-pretend that isn't acknowledged due to the commercial elements of these hobbies, despite this play also underlying more conventional forms of collecting. Let's put garage kits, gunpla, figmas, and anything else that would give figure collecting overlap with productive kinds of playing out of mind of a moment. You go to amiami and buy a 1/6 scale hatsune miku figure for $120. Shipping is anywhere from $10-30 depending on where you're getting it from(pricey!). You have the intention to sit this figure on your desk and little else. No fancy photoshoots or anything(at best maybe a few photos to share), just You and Your Toy.

at the core what you're buying is just emotional proximity to the things or characters in media you like (<- deeply obvious and boring sentence, but please keep reading). a child will play with toys as a way of exploring both fantastical ideas and the world around them in a way that is safe. with collectible figurines, those ideas and fantasies are self-contained in the toy itself, the predictability and familiarity acting as another form of safety. the satisfying comfort of 'playing' occurs when you look at the figure and feel like its meaning is self-evident. the act of 'play' becomes the bond you have developed to the object. the object is real. you can define yourself in relation to it- but more importantly, the ownership over this object affords you the ability to define the object in a way that would be somewhat less warranted as a mere spectator of a book or tv series. miku isn't just a figure, she is your idol, or your daughter, or a weird pet. this bond you have dictated has made her more real, and your self-concepts by extension. but this is all playing at the end of the day because she is a toy. a rock collector takes pride in their collection in part because of their love for rocks, but also because it reflects their mastery over understanding the world of rocks. it becomes testament to the relationship with their special subject. they are transformed by the physical presence of the rock. anime figure collecting is quite similar.

hoarding is kind of interesting with re: collecting because to me it's the process of play being stilted. there is desire but not so much intimacy between the person and their object. i often get the impression that hoarders desire to play with their objects, but are inhibited from being able to engage in that kind of vulnerability, instead turning the act of acquisition into a kind of less enriching pseudo-play. after all, hoarding can be a response to periods of traumatic deprivation. the hoarder who accumulates tons of stuff receives some of the comfort and safety of play via the guarantee of a new item added to their collection. they aren't sure how to treasure their objects beyond ensure that they are not thrown away. they cannot 'play' with them, and have their relationship defined largely by the emotions created by the absence of play. by being unable to engage with play and thus failing to acquire the fulfillment or enrichment of play, they end up snagged in what usually ends up being a frustrating cycle.

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ishallgivehimupforever · 6 months ago

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Here We go again Bellarke warriors, if you can hear me, it's been about 1680 days since I stopped caring (or so I thought)

I hadn't been to tumblr in years, before I decided to give the 100 a rewatch in June of this year, as I had given up somewhere around the start of season 5 (I remember hating the LONG ass timeskip teased at the end of S4, I guess some other media must have swallowed me during hiatus, and when I tried to give that season a chance I vividly remember 1) I couldn't see shit on my screen 2) I hated what the timeskip did to the established relationships) and so I dropped it for good, looking back I almost can't believe I could just...not finish it like that because let me tell you I did NOT fuck about Clarke and Bellamy, and Raven, and Monty, and probably some other characters back in 2015-2016. I think I maybe did not appreciate season 4 enough at the time it was airing (because I think binge-watching is very flattering for that season, watching it live I remember it was frustrating to watch the characters go on side quests in 4A) but now knowing what the character arcs are and where it was going makes it my second-favorite season. BUT, I digress, wow. This is meant to be a rambling, incohisive love letter to the compelling relationship between Bellamy and Clarke. I warn you, they truly do not fucking leave you as it turns out. I would go to the trenches for them back in my fandom days in 2015-17, and I realised, after binge-waching the show over 4 sleepless nights (seasons 1-6, which are the only seasons in existence, obviously)that I STILL just FUCKING CARE SO MUCH. I NEVER CARED ABOUT FICTIONAL CHARACTERS SO MUCH AS CARE FOR THESE TWO SEPARATELY, AND AS SOULMATES. Because let me tell you, Clarke and Bellamy, they fucking love each. Like actual, happens-only-in-romances LOVE. It is frankly INSANE how JRoth, K*m Shum and other managed to gaslight me over some of the bellarke scenes in S2-S3 as to make me think it's in my (and thousand's of fans') head WHEN IT IS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS FROM SCORE, EDITING CHOICES, LONGING LOOK SHOTS, HANDS SHOTS, LINES, AND FINALLY, ACTING AND DIRECTION THAT THESE TWO ARE LOVERS.

I have never, ever, before or since, followed two characters who were so compatible, so equal, so trusting in each other, so open with one another, so mindful of the other's emotions and needs, so so so made for each other, that it is no surprise to me that they are top 10 F/M pairing on AO3. Because Bellamy and Clarke would fall in love in every imaginable scenario, in every universe, across time. I am not usually that cheesy or cringy, but it is true. I could not put my finger on why they are my absolute favorite to read fanfic for and then it occurred to me. That as long as the hands of fate put these two in proximity of each other, it;s a done deal. That chemistry transcends the limits of a single tv show. The depth with how Clarke and Bellamy love each other honestly makes me pause for breath sometimes. It is not just the iconic, famous bellarke scenes, but also the quiet moments.

Like in 6x05 or 6x06 (cant remember) when Clarke's body was stolen by Josephine after her one-night stand with Cillian. (stay with me) Bellamy, unaware that Clarke isn't herself at that point, comes over to chat, he's clearly at least a bit jealous over her sleeping with Cillian, and yet he says "happiness looks good on you" with that wide, earnest smile. And just wow. How must he love her, to be so utterly happy for her own happiness that has in that instance nothing to do with him. so selfless. well, selfless is basically Bellamy's middle name.

Or how in season 4, after a lot of the characters and at times the narrative wanted to push this idea on Clarke that she is the sole leader of her people, gets right back on track to her co-leader dynamic with Bellamy, constantly checking with him, considering his input, and respecting choices that she herself would maybe not make (releasing the ensalved arkadians and grounders vs ensuring they get a machine necessary to generate water) but always understanding that these choices agree with his core values, and she loves him for it.

This post is way too long. I love Bellamy. I love Clarke. People often use the 'MY PARENTS" about ships on twitter, and you know what, in my case that's kinda true with bellarke. I met these characters when I was 15. I am 25 now, and with an adult perspective to my surprise I found their relationship even more profound then I remembered, and I was insanse about them already. They are truly THE power couple of all time. I miss the 100, If you wanna ramble about it together, feel welcome to send me ask, I'd love to have an excuse to share some of my (sometimes unpopular) opinions lol.

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100

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temporarilyunspokensneezes · 24 days ago

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"Taking a Dip" part 1/?

Another Gel//phie sickfic!! HUGE shoutout to @themiseryandcompany for sharing this braincell with me for the past week!! Going back and forth to gush over these lesbians has fueled me with the motivation to write and WOW have I missed it~ 10/10 recommend everyone go read their post about wi//cked character snz-headcanons because YES.

I'm hopeful that it won't take too long to post the next part but I can't make any promises :(

Word count: ~2.1k

Rating: general

Tags: sickfic, kink!Elphaba, pre-relationship, g/alinda is very whiny but in a precious way, falling into the water but it's not violent or traumatic, minor mess mention, handkerchiefs

They should have seen it coming. Honestly, Elphaba being involved means a commotion is certain to happen, after all. She knows it, expects it, plans for it even. But she hadn't expected it to be something so sudden as Galinda being just a bit too tipsy after their night out at the Ozdust and losing her balance in the boat. She wonders if that's why the place is considered off-limits, too many students having watery accidents on their way back. Oz knows there's enough signs around warning about the dangers of not following proper safety precautions when using the boats. Nonetheless, it thankfully occurs right as they're docking and there's not much fanfare nor effort involved in hoisting a screeching Galinda back onto dry land. The blonde, however, isn't feeling thankful in the least. Not with her hair and makeup being absolutely ruined and her dress soaked, chilling her to the bone with the frigid nighttime air. She's definitely feeling sobered up now.

"E-e-elphieeeee," she whines through chattering teeth once she's standing, hugging herself and on the verge of tears. Or maybe she already is and they’re mixed in with the water dripping from her hair. Elphaba wastes no time to remove her coat and drape it over her roommate, deciding to keep a quip regarding Galinda's earlier protests about the coat to herself. (”Elphie! Do not tell me you're wearing that out?!” “You mean I should wear practically nothing while it's freezing out?” “Yes!!”)

"I know, I know. Let's get you back and into something dry," she tries to soothe, tentatively running hands up and down Galinda's arms. The smaller girl tucks herself against Elphaba's side with a whine, sniffling and shivering pitifully as they walk as briskly as heels allow back to their dorm room.

It's not a long walk, but even ten minutes can feel like a lifetime of misery when one is freezing and wet. At least, that's Galinda's perception of the whole ordeal. She can hardly think past the numbing chill that's seeping into her bones, her poor ruined hair is still dripping the freezing water down her torso, feet sore from the way they keep sliding around in her heels from the wetness, and the horrendible sniffle that keeps plaguing her nose. Between the constant chatter of her teeth and using all of her will power to force one leaden leg in front of the other, Galinda can't help incessant sniffles. It's not lady-like in the slightest, but neither would be wiping her nose on Elphie as they walk, and Oz knows her hands are glued to herself to try and retain as much warmth as possible.

Galinda could collapse with relief once they're inside their room, and she probably would've if Elphaba hadn't been holding her steady, leading her first to the chair at her vanity.

"Elphie, I want to lay down," she whines, not even trying to hold back the pout forming on her face, but also not making much effort to actually move.

"I'm fairly certain you don't want your bed cold and wet too," Elphaba points out with a raised eyebrow. She grabs a towel to quickly wrap around Galinda's freezing wet hair before going to fetch a set of dry clothes for her roommate.

The pathetic expression on Galinda's face doesn't dissipate, but she does work to slowly remove the damp garments. Now that she's sitting, the warmth of the room is finally starting to reach her. It doesn't want to reach the chill in her bones yet, but her face is suddenly feeling all too warm, making her nose run with a renewed vigor.

She's staring at herself in the mirror, in the middle of trying to wipe away the smudged makeup around her eyes whilst sniffling when the pressure on her sinuses switches from an annoying tingle to a warning buzz, giving her barely any time to prepare. "Heh-!...Hehpt'chii!" Galinda's movements are too sluggish to move her hand in time, the damp sneeze spraying the glassy surface and table. It only serves to make the blonde whine in even more distress at her misfortune.

Elphaba had just been about to turn back towards her roommate, a change of clothes fully gathered in her hands when the snagged breath catches her attention, making her freeze. The sneeze that escapes her roommate is nothing but a high pitched squeak, much like the rest of her. "Oz bless you," she says, forcing her voice to be calm and steady as she walks up to the blonde, sniffling even more now. The liquid sounds are making Elphaba's blood rush much too fast for her liking, but she refuses to give it any attention. "Here, change into these. I'll make you some tea," she offers, struggling to decide on where to look. Galinda's nose is only getting pinker, much like the damp undergarments she's still in, the rest of her clothes a wet pile on the floor.

Galinda starts to nod but the tickle still lingers, sending her eyes fluttering shut as she builds up to another. "Heh....ihhSHii!"

"Bless-"

"Heh'tchii!"

"....bless y-"

"Ihx'shii*"

Elphaba pauses longer this time, waiting to see if Galinda's face is going to scrunch up into her adorable pre-sneeze expression once more. When it doesn't after a few beats and the silence is only broken by more whimpering and sniffles, does Elphaba force her body to relax a bit. "Bless you," she murmurs, unable to stop herself from resting a hand on Galinda's back. The mirror is a mess now but Elphaba is making a point to pretend like she doesn't notice, for both of their sakes.

It's nothing compared to how profusely Galinda's nose is running now, leaving the poor blonde whining even more between wet sniffles. "Elphieeee," seems to be her universal phrase for the night as she looks forlorn towards her dresser a few feet away. Elphaba huffs at the vague insistence but it's fond as well and they both know it. She dutifully retrieves one of the blonde's many silky pink handkerchiefs, embroidered initials neatly in the corner, and passes it to her roommate's outstretched hand while the blonde’s other hand tries to block the view of her nose. "Thagk-...thank you," Galinda mumbles, making a face when her voice comes out significantly more congested sounding at first.

Elphaba nods, untrusting of her ability to respond normally, so instead she diverts, "Would you like some tea?"

Galinda's eyes light up at the offer. "Oh yes, please. Black, with two sugars please," she says from behind her handkerchief, daintily tending to her nose. Elphaba doesn't point out that the technique is rather useless for how stuffy Galinda seems.

"You're getting lemon herbal tea. With honey, not sugar," she corrects pointedly, daring her roommate to argue and knowing that she won't.

And it's correct. Galinda pouts ferociously but that's the extent of it before she returns her attention back to her face. Her makeup is just about fully wiped off so she switches to tending to her freezing hair still wrapped in the towel, then finally putting on the pajamas Elphaba had brought over for her. It's a sigh of relief to finally be enveloped in warm clothes again.

Elphaba is relieved too, albeit for different reasons. She focuses on preparing the tea, adding more honey than she herself would prefer, but knows Galinda will want it as sweet as possible. The sounds of Galinda brushing through her hair is punctuated with the still ever present sniffles that Elphaba wishes she could tune out rather than hone in on. It's a relief that nothing serious like hypothermia seems to be at risk for her roommate tonight, but that doesn't mean the consequences of the accident are over yet. The slightest change in weather seems to get to the blonde, leaving her feeling unwell and determined to make sure Elphaba is acutely aware of every distressing symptom. Elphaba fears tonight will devolve into something similar. Her suspicions are only furthered when she nearly jumps a foot in the air from Galinda suddenly sneezing once more.

"Ih'chii! Hhx'shii! Oh my, I- eh...ihpt'chiew! Goodness, they just...heh....they just won't quit! Ehk'shi! Ishh'ii! Ishh'hiew!" Galinda holds the handkerchief a few inches from her face rather than actually using it to cover her nose. The final sneeze leaves her throat feeling irritated and when she tries to clear it, the result is a series of coughs that transform the mild irritation into an awful raw burn.

Elphaba frowns at the display, setting the tea to the side in favor of rubbing a hand up and down Galinda's back until the coughing dies down. "Are you alright?" The concern doesn't really abate when the response is just a small nod. "Here, hopefully the tea helps," she says, handing Galinda the warm cup. The smile she receives in return isn't as bright as usual, but full of gratefulness all the same, and that is what allows Elphaba a small amount of relief.

Taking a tentative sip, Galinda smiles again at the flavor. The honey offers a different kind of sweet compared to the sugar cubes she prefers, but it soothes her throat and warms the parts of her core that had stubbornly been clinging to the chill. The steam doesn't do her nose any favors, but the sniffling is more than worth it in her mind. "Thank you, Elphie."

The liquidy sound, however, snaps Elphaba back to her previous awkwardness. "Of course," she says, but it sounds more forced than she would like. Too aware of her hands, she removes them from Galinda's person, clasping them in front of herself instead. "Are you finally feeling warm again?" She asks, hoping to distract from the tension she's created.

Galinda takes another sip before setting the tea back down with a groan. "Yes, but now it's as if my face feels too warm," she huffs, pouting at her reflection. The reflection shows how pink her cheeks and nose are, compared to the pale contrast of the rest of her face. "Like a strange heavy liquid that's much too warm and making my head feel funny," she elaborates, reaching for the handkerchief again to dab at her nose.

"Hopefully you aren't getting sick from this," the words leave Elphaba's mouth before she can think better of them. Though the nagging feeling in her gut tells her that she's right.

Galinda pouts even harder at this, not at all pleased at how tonight is turning out for her. She leans her head against her roommate's with a dramatic and self-pitying hmph, coughing lightly right after.

Elphaba's own huff is fond, long since unable to fight feeling endeared towards Galinda's antics. "Here," she says, handing her roommate the tea once more. "Finish this and then let's get you to bed." She strokes Galinda's back to hopefully coax the younger girl into compliance and is rewarded with a defeated nod and the rest of the tea being downed. It's probably not necessary, but she helps Galinda stand and get into the bed anyways, adjusting her pillows and pulling up the covers.

Elphaba is in the middle of impulsively checking her roommate's forehead for a fever when Galinda asks in a quiet voice, "Elphie, will you stay with me tonight?"

It takes a lot of control to not flinch away at the request. She must have a fever. The older girl considers refusing, but Galinda's eyes are wide and imploring, and Elphaba already knows that she's incapable of denying the younger girl anything when she gives her that look. "Sure," she says in an equally soft voice, stepping away only to quickly change into her own nightgown before slipping in next to Galinda under the covers. Immediately her mind begins to race and panic, unsure of how close is appropriate or how to lie in the least obtrusive way as possible. The spiral hardly even has time to start though before Galinda is moving closer and curling up right against her, one arm across Elphaba's stomach to give purchase and press even closer to her side.

"You're so warm, Elphie," Galinda sighs against her, her breath ghosting over Elphaba's shoulder. Her body is finally able to truly relax and she's grateful that she can already feel sleep tugging at the edges of her mind.

Elphaba had gone rigidly still at first, but relaxes after Galinda's words. She places a hand over the blonde's, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it simply rest on top. "Sleep well," she says, smiling when it only takes a few moments for Galinda's breaths to deepen into a steady rhythm. And sooner than she thought possible, Elphaba follows.

#my post #snz #snz kink #sickfic

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zoppa682 · 2 months ago

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I am a therian who fully identifies as non human. The ONLY part of me that is human is my physical vessel, otherwise I am not human at all. Because of this, I have kinsidered fictionkin many times in the past, and every time I have, I pushed it aside since the characters I were kinsidering were human when I don't feel human at all. That was until it occurred to me: both the characters I am kinsidering are characters I headcanon as therians. Therfore, it would still make sense for me to feel nonhuman. So now I have been kinsdering them all over again.

I could not find much info online since all the info about fictionkins I found was past life stuff. I personally do not belive in the multiverse (I find it a cool concept and respect anyone who does), and I don't feel like I had a past life as any characters at all. Because of this, I came to the fictionkins, nunhumans, and alterhumans of tumblr.

I am kinsedering two characters. I will post here my experiences with both.

Jade Harley

Well, from the time I first got into Homestuck I always said "She is literally me!" And it always felt far more serious than just a fun joke. I feel so connected to Jade in so many ways. I really sometimes feel like her. My friends even call me Jade for fun, but it feels more serious to me, and I am happy going by the name. I relate to her a ton, for example, not just my therianthropy headcanon, but also her personality (both good and bad), her mannerisms, and even down to the way she types with the emoticons. Maybe that's not enough to mean anything, though.

It gets a little more complicated with the second character.

Mayra Tikuna

Mayra is a character from The Post Traumatic Manifesto by vocaloid artist Weevildoing. My Weevildoing hyperfixation only started about a week ago (on December 20th, when the series ended), but I knew their music and was a part of their fan base for way longer.

From the first time I heard Taxidermy Girl, something felt extremely off about it, in a good way I mean. I am not joking when I say I listened to it 10-15 times in a row after hearing it, trying to determine what it was I felt. I couldn't tell if it was the oddly haunting melody, or the fact that I heavily relate to the song, but either way, it stuck with me a lot even before I began to actually hyperfixate on the series.

I am in countless fandoms, and within every fandom, I have a favorite character that I will go crazy at the mention of, and my obsession with them always seems so exaggerated to others. Out of all the fandoms I have been in, there are only ever very few where I have related to the characters this much, and only ever these two characters have i felt THIS attached to in this context.

Because of how much I, once again, relate to the character in many ways (Again with the ties to therianthropy, the character's gender identity, their negative experiences, etc.), I have kinsedered him as a kintype. Though, I am unsure if it is too soon to tell. It's only been a little over a week, but I still feel as though something is stirring up here.

What do you all think? If there is any guidance or advice you can give me, I'd greatly appreciate it. Anyone who reads this far, have a wonderful day :3

(Also, go support Weevildoing, their music is incredible and has helped me through struggling with horrible intrusive thoughts many times)

I UPDATE THIS BY SAYING AS OF JANUARY 1ST, 2025, I HAVE KINFIRMED BOTH FICTOTYPES. :3

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system-of-a-feather · 6 months ago

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Literature Reading and Discussion

(These are informal readings, take aways and just thoughts I have on interesting articles that I think were worth sharing. My comments are developed AS I read them, cause I always talk to myself and the article while I read them. This is just literally how I annotate literature papers, so read it like a live blog of sorts; people are welcome to read and discuss and comment)

Article: Dissociative identity disorder as a wide range of defense mechanisms in children with a history of early childhood trauma

First things first, I'm actually surprised on how antiquated the description of DID's "general characteristics" is in this article even if it is from 2019. The sources that the section connects to is, however, another Polish article and the opening states that DID is not really talked about, diagnosed, or researched much in Poland so I think the antiquated information might be reflective of that and the locality.

"A case of a patient has been reported, who menstruated for the whole month because her alters had different period dates"

Call me a skeptic, but while I do believe that the patient genuinely believes that, I almost feel more like that's a menstrual issue unrelated to DID but is being attributed to DID.

"Another example is the movie The Three Faces of Eve based on a real story of a woman switching between three different personalities"

I could have sworn that it was found that it was not a real story. I'm starting to side eye the general nature of this article (which the class I was taking did NOT talk explicitly on DID here) but I am interested in the talk on etiology so I'm sticking through.

Petty thing, I dislike how much DID is called a "disease". Again this is originally a Polish literature review and thus translated so maybe its that, its not explicitly BAD per se but I dislike it.

The Psycho-analytic Model

"[..] This theory assumes that alters develop not as a result of a traumatic event as such, but due to defense mechanisms that are designed to protect the individual from dangerous content[1]. This model refers to Freud's views presented in his Studies on Hysteria[10]. [..]"

I'm sorry its hard for me to take this model suggestion seriously when its based on / refers to Freud's weirdness and "Hysteria".

"Splitting is a natural psychological process, occurring mainly in infants, which allows them to separate good from evil."

God, I'm barfing in white western dualism.

"When a child is constantly subjected to traumatic experiences, they begin to overuse this mechanism even in non-threatening situations, which allows them to create two disparate worlds. This leads to the formation of new alter personalities which protect the child against the trauma[1,9]."

See, now that I can get behind. I don't like the "good vs evil" and how that inherently relates to shit (probably a translation issue or more likely Freud being weird and white) but this checks out.

"According to Freud, the primary process, unlike the secondary process, has no cause-and-effect relations, opposites, and time, and is characterized by coexisting contradictions. Its task is to relieve the tension as quickly as possible by creating images of an object that satisfies the need. There is also no distinction between fantasy and reality, which seems to explain why alters do not find it contradictory to have a different sex, race or age than the original personality"

Okay so I think Freud lost me because I don't understand the mechanism outside of a symbolic manner and I might be trying to find more of an understanding of the "process" in terms of an actual neurobiological framework than a philosophical / hypothetical / symbolic framework when it doesn't exist. If someone thinks they get the proposed concept, feel free to inform me cause this part lost me.

However I do find the proposition that "no distinction between fantasy and reality" is kind of an interesting point to think about. I've heard some stuff about a relationship between dissociation and psychosis so, kind of interesting.

"The psychoanalytical model, therefore, suggests that the development of DID requires two components: trauma and fantasy. This theory, however, is not perfect, because it does not explain all clinical symptoms"

Ah the brother to "fantasy prone" debate. I honestly need to go over the article at some point that debunks fantasy proneness in people with DID cause while I don't believe in the iatrogenic model (or at least that it is the cause of MOST cases; I can see it being the cause of SOME cases) I do know a lot of people with DID who are REALLY fantasy prone; obviously thats my peer / personal experience and I have a biased sample size so it could just be me, but its something I've always been meaning to go over and look back on.

The Auto-Hypnotic Model

"Bliss even goes as far as to say that multiple personality is a form of autohypnosis and that other symptoms of the disease, such as changes in breathing rate, irregular menstruation, and palpitations are manifestations of anxiety"

Ehhh first things first, STILL doubting the "irregular menstruation" as a relevant or related symptom to DID. Beyond that, I feel like the differences and changes between alters is WAY too much to just account for it as "manifestations of anxiety".

"Overused, it interferes more and more with the individual's memory, sense of the Self, and normal ability to cope in the real world. The changes can range from short episodes of amnesia to the emergence of alter personalities which can take control of the patient's body."

Honestly I don't know enough about the neurobiology / neuropsychology of actual hypnosis and how to sparse it from the sensationalized understanding of hypnosis to actually have any real comment on it. I feel a bit skeptical, but I also do think there is some value in it? Skeptical none the less though.

"Criticism of this theory rests in the fact that it equates hypnotizability with susceptibility to dissociation. Some studies indicate that these processes are not synonymous, because although some people who are highly susceptible to dissociation are also susceptible to hypnosis, not all hypnotizable persons are able to dissociate"

Yeah that was going to be my critique thanks article for putting words to my ambiguous sense of "ehh somethings off".

The Developmental Model

"Research shows that people with DID have a period of special sensitivity during which traumatic events can lead to the formation of a multiple personality. This period falls between the ages of a few months to 9/10 years. Processes that occur in normally developing children, which, when disrupted, may lead to the formation of alter personalities"

I do like the sound of this thus far. I'm pretty sure this was a foundational perspective in the ToSD

"Imagination and fantasy allow children to project their own personality onto objects and situations[1]. It has been suggested that this may contribute to the blurring of the boundaries between reality and fantasy and the emergence of alter personalities in DID[1,7,10]."

"Yeah of the three so far this is my favorite" I say as the person deeply interested in developmental psychopathology and the general idea that everything goes back to childhood and critical periods /hj

"Another factor promoting the formation of alters may be the fact that children endow their plush toys or dolls with life and personality traits."

Hahaha me fr fr.

"Many adult patients claim that imaginary companions were models for their alter personalities. What is more, alters themselves often admit that they had been created as imaginary friends and later acquired their own lives as a result of trauma[1]."

COUGHS LOUDLY AT CREATED ALTERS / HEADMATES / PARTS COUGH COUGHS LOUDLY

"The construct of behavioral states of consciousness assumes that people are born as potential multiple personalities, and it is only in the course of normal development that these personalities consolidate and integrate into a single Self. Research shows that the behavior of newborns is composed of separate behavioral states, manifesting themselves, among others, through different motor activities, eye movements, facial expressions or skin color. This assumption shows that some of children's most important developmental tasks are to consolidate the Self, work out a sense of one's identity, and learn to smoothly transition from one behavioral state to the next."

OK this section I really do like and have thoughts on. FIRSTLY the word "assumes" is just what I mean with the fact that "everyone fuses into one" is an ASSUMPTION not a fact and even in that assumption, that the task is consolidation of Self. I DO agree with that, however the last sentence of this section I feel best leaves space for the fact that the consolidation of Self doesn't necessarily mean to a single version of Self. If the purpose of the consolidation of Self is to 1) work out ones identity and 2) smoothly transition from one behavioral state to the next; assuming both are met in healthy ways without full integration / consolidation (as is promoted and supported by cultural and social systems in non white non western cultures), there is no reason to assume that an individual would HAVE to fuse into one to meet the important developmental milestones.

Honestly I'd highlight and copy most of this model's discussion down because I just simply like it. I'm NOT gonna do it cause thats too much work and the link is accessible to everyone.

The Attachment Model

I'm not copying all this down unless something particularly stands out. I'm super biased in terms of Bowlby's attachment theory cause I just really *like it*. So just like, use your imagination to see me probably overlooking critiques and holding up a sign in a stadium like a super fan of "I LOVE U BOWLBYS ATTACHMENT THEORY" or something like that ok? /lh /j

Results and Discussion

There is a really neat diagram in the article about factors and combining the models to understand a lot of things about DID that I like. I don't want to deal with screenshotting it and crediting it properly so just go check it out.

"Formerly, it was believed that DID affected only adults; now, it is claimed that the disorder can be diagnosed in children as young as three or four years old. Most commonly, however, the diagnosis is made between the ages of 25 and 35, although the first symptoms probably appear five to ten years before the disease is recognized[1]."

Side eyeing people who say DID doesn't occur in children.

My Thoughts

Interesting read overall. I think the introduction section was really sketchy, but I think it did a nice job going over and integrating a lot of the other models and hypothesises on DID in a way other than the ToSD. I was kind of hoping for something *more* cause most of that I've heard of already, but it was a fun read overall.

I feel someone asked me recently about alternative models to the ToSD but I can't recall who so I hope they see this

#sysconversation #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #literature #research #literature discussion #research discussion #Literature Reading and Discussion #Feathers speaks #live blogging

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womanpl3aser · 9 months ago

Text

everybody knows that i am a good girl officer | | Po.f!abby x fem!reader

mndi!!, 18+, you'll find the rest while you're reading;) also usage of y/n 2 or 3 times.

wc: 1,4k

Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started as a normal Tuesday, for you and all the people around the market that were in. Everybody seemed to be shopping, chit chatting, gossiping, laughing at something you couldnt quite catch buuuuut there you were, looking around for the last ingredient you needed for the dinner you'd be making later tonight.

You thought to urself "where the fuck could they put some fucking sauce." you sighed in defeat and went to a nearby woman who worked there and asked her "excuse me ma'am do you know where's that sauce that had a swan outside its can?" "it's at section 2, you should find it mixed with the poultry" she'd answer to you bitting on some donut walking off?? like excuse me miss you're there to help the customers. what a bitch you thought to urself, "thank you!'' you exclaimed with some sarcasm at the end. You were sure she didn't hear it, "okay now who the fuck puts some sauce mixed with these poultry shits" you said under your breathe cause god damn. Your shopping didn't even take 10 minutes and last time you checked your phone it was 11:36 and now it was 11:59.

Fuck you muttered to yourself. After searching for that fricking sauce you finally found it. You immediately grabbed it and threw it into your cart and rushed to pay. you were waiting in line until..

a woman barged in the market yelling while wearing no sandals or whatsoever shoes u guessed and looked.. off. Nobody commented on that neither her appearance just had some judgemental stares. You also brushed it off cause it was literally none of your business nonetheless just as you were about to pay with cash, a worker who curiously walked past her saw her holding a revolver?.. at least that's what you heard with all the panic breaking out in mere seconds.

EVERYBODY GET OUT OF THE STORE! ooh shit. the popo squad must've been called or they just tracked her you thought as you were rushing to get out of the store with your groceries(probably half of them). An officer yelled while charging at the woman aiming at her weapon. Another officer escorted the other officer who had managed to tackle the threat down and kick off the gun of the woman's hands. GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW. the woman said after punching her back for resisting her. STOP FUCKING RESISTING WOMAN after several kicks and hits and punches the woman finally stopped moving around and complied to be cooperative because it would get her nowhere, just charged with more felonies and she didn't want that did she?

You were watching with a mind full of "what just happened or when did all of this happen" while you had your bags in your hands ready to get into your vehicle to go home. But just as you were to step your foot into your car trying to leave the scene and forget about what just happened youd force yourself to forget about what had happened earlier to be fair, an officer calls you out.

HEY, MISS YES YOU COULD YOU PLEASE COME HERE? she yelled because you both had a pretty average distance "oh yes of course" you answered. Great now why would she want to talk to you thoughts started to gather around your mind was it something you possibly did in the market, maybe they found out about your attitude towards the worker in the store?(but to be fair they fucking deserved that) you were thinking of all that as you were walking towards the direction she was with your head down the pavement too scared to look up as if something horrible would happen to you.

Ma'am first of all are you okay? did you get harmed in the process of all this? was the first thing that came out of the officers mouth and you got kind of relieved, you were so glad it wasn't about something you did "y-yeah of course just a little bit shocked about what had just occurred some minutes ago" you painfully laughed with some tremor in your voice. You don't have to be scared, everything is well taken care of and is on our hands.. maybe I ask you some questions? you silently mumbled a "fuck me" that didn't go unnoticed by the officer but decided to brush it off and went on with a "sure!" still while looking down. "Ah.. alright then but you gotta look at me 'kay? now." the officer demanded you do so. You finally got the courage to look the woman in the eyes but instead of fear to overcome you, you were met with some blue ocean eyes, honey blonde strands that had fallen off her tight braid while she was trying to pin the woman on the ground and some tight ass dark green cargos that hugged her thights so so deliciously.. and not to talk about her turtle neck black shirt with her armor and a bunch of stuff thay kissed her biceps exactly how u had imagined..

"Ma'am? ma'am are you still with me? I'm talking to you. Eyes on mine." She spoke to you snapping you out of your imagination "Uh uh yeah I'm here I'm sorry" you apologized pathetically and she smirked.. oh boy. "Its fine angel" your cheeks turned crimson red who also didnt go unnoticed by her well trained eyes and just like that her cocky usual attitude had switched to something you couldn't actually figure out. "Since you were in the store I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, got it sugar? if not there will be charges pressed against you" she'd say "umm yeah ask me anything, I promise I will not lie to you officer" "glad you're one of these people who listen to my commands, I like that." You'd nod your head not breaking eye contact with her because who were you infront of this tall ass hot as fuck woman? "Since you were in the store, what kind of gun did she hold?" She'd take her notes out and start putting down whatever came out of your mouth.

10 minutes had passed and you were almost done with your interrogation

" 'N lastly why is a pretty woman like you doing here?" She'd ask "j-just some shopping you'd mutter" "Speak up baby cause I cannot hear you" she'd say firmly yet flirty to you. And oh boy you did not answer because of how fucking flustered and wet you were getting and thats when she saw red. Yes, red. she was short tempered if you didn't already notice "fucking ANSWER ME"

she'd raise her voice slightly but not loud enough to draw attention from by passers "i-im sorry officer I'll be good, i didn't mean to offend you in every way i-I promise y-you'' "I-i y-you, shut up and get yourself together baby or should I teach you a lesson?" she'd smirk to herself and slightly giggle. Apparently.. you were a goner. like an actual goner your brain couldn't function properly anymore, it was all filled with wanting some friction from her. "I'll be a good girl officer" You'd nudge her with your hand as a sign of intimidation and just as you both pressed lips and almost got dragged into her police car's backseat to absolutely fucking ruin you a shot was fired. She stroke up from her current position and looked at the sight of her colleagues and that's when she'd realized a mate of hers got shot "OH FUCK, ILL BE BACK REAL SOON OKAY?" She'd reassured you and sprinted towards her hurt inmate just leaving you there with your thoughts coming back "damn I didn't even get her name.." You'd complain to yourself.

30 minutes had passed.

And she finally came back to where she had previously left you "Hey sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving you here all alone but it was my duty to go check him out" she'd kiss your forehead like it was nothing taking some steps towards you. You'd flush again as a loser and assure her that it was okay and that she needn't have to be apologetic towards you "Oh and by the way my name is Abby but you can call me as abigail or abs as a short cut" "Mines Y/n" "such a pretty name for such pretty girl" she'd slightly push herself on you. You'd smile at her grabbing her waist "oou getting touchy already y/n huh?, you wanna resume whatever we were about to do before?" She'd say a step back from gropping your fucking ass devouring you alive, you were driving her fucking crazy "Yes please, I'd love that abigail" and oh well she went feral after the way she heard her name rolling off your tongue like honey.

Aaaaand lets say that you were limping and couldn't walk straight after her 7 inch strap that got buried into you for fucking hours.

HEY YALL IM SORRY THIS WAS RUSHED. I GOT INSPIRED BY A VIDEO OF A COP THAT HAD ABBYS BUILD. I STARTED WRITING THIS AT 5:30 AM AND I FINISHED AT 7:14 AM SO EXCUSE ME FOR ANY MINOR OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES. THANK YOU!! also it isn't proofread.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us

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yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 6 months ago

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Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

#good stay out of our yard' and he didn't seem to know what to say to that #but other than that I don't think anyone in my adult life has ever seen me turn aggressive at all to the point where people 100% like to #play games of testing my patience and my boundaries because they think my tolerance is infinite #but like I have autistic rage tantrums on both sides of my family and they are just happening inside my head #And somehow it took me until now to realize that being that way was actually -expected- of me by my parents and especially my mother #and that by keeping myself outwardly level headed to be considerate I actually took away whatever signals she can understand #to have empathy for how I must be feeling #I mean it's still all on her #but it makes so much sense of why she's fucking *like this*#And why my sister thinks I hate her just because -she- stopped texting -me-#but that fucking guy #Every time I was like #In my adult life I have screamed at someone ONE whole time and it was 1000% deserved #And I threw heavy objects around one whole other time and in my defense I didn't do it in front of the guy he just felt the ground shaking #heard the thuds and came back to the logs blocking his path because that fucker wouldn't stop parking in our yard after being asked #and then TOLD not to about 10 times because he was acting entitled to just park in our yard and was crushing my plants???#seriously I don't know what his deal was but he wouldn't stop telling me how much the ground shaking scared him like it was supposed #to get my pity like I think this guy took one look at the logs I had just tossed down and was suddenly afraid of this “woman” he was #bullying in their own yard and so my ability to feel bad for scaring him had gone straight out the fucking window #I looked at him and said stop parking in our yard instead of your own you are killing my plants #he'd just fucking be like 'well the last people to live here let us D: :)“ and I'd be like ”good for them?“ ”stop“#and he'd just keep doing it #I was having a week of insomnia and was finally having the best dream #the kind of sex dream you have like twice in your life #and this fucker had just gotten some noisy ass little bike with a spoiler on it #and starts it up right under my window at 3am from IN OUR FUCKING YARD #so I had a nice long anger nap and just after he got home from work and was sleeping in his house #I picked up these chunks of deadwood tree from the back #there was like 3-4 logs that used to be a WHOLEASS fucking oak tree Like these logs were not as heavy as they -looked- but they were still #this fucker deleted half the tags I wrote and I am not retyping that fuck you tumblr so fucking hard

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