#and makes my passive suicidality flare up

[tqila-sunset]

if you're designing a security system and your backup security questions don't allow me to type in a custom request to my future self I hate you personally.

I can't remember the exact way I typed out the name of the street I grew up on or my primary school even though I know the answers to those questions so I'm locked out of my fucking workforce australia account and have to either delete my account and relink everything or wait two hours and try to do this again with every possible way of typing out these two simple facts I know about myself.

my monthly jobsearch requirements are a part of being too disabled to be employed but not disabled enough to get on disability benefits and it's a cross I don't mind bearing or whatever but I hate when the systems fuck me over and I get no leniency for it.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Prompt: “ it's nothing. hurts like hell but -- i've dealt with worse. “

Post-s2-grayspace Kabby. We're playing a little loose with medical plausibility but I did twist my ankle as a tiny human (roughly 20 years ago) so I'm just going with that memory and hoping it's close enough. PG-ish and also on ao3.

If nothing else on this planet manages to kill him, she just might.

This is not a new emotion or desire for Abby – if anything, its frequency has lessened. But other details have changed too, the dramatic personality shift she’s trying to make her peace with and worries was somehow her fault, and-

Most of said personality shift makes her life easier. The fact that Marcus is now impulsive and a bit passive-aggressively suicidal undoes all that goodwill real fast when it flares.

She is not trying to take up his former mantle of paranoia, but it seems that every time he leaves the safety of their compound for more than about two hours, regardless of whether he’s alone or with others, something goes wrong and it becomes her problem. Injuries happen, she gets it, there’s a whole new world everyone is trying to get used to, but most people don’t…

She of all people understands the unwillingness to accept new physical limitations, but it’s like he’s not even trying, like he can ignore that damage and be okay, and then that doesn’t work and she gets stuck dealing with the damage. Just like always.

This time, he thinks he can hide it – he’s learning, perhaps, that these little adventures are becoming the only times she lets herself get mad at him. This time, he comes back moving just slightly wrong, just wrong enough that only someone who pays too much attention to his habits would notice a change, and-

“With me,” she says, and she will at least give him the mercy of not going at him with an audience, as much as that would probably be the most interesting part of five different people’s days. “Now.”

Perfect compliance – this too is becoming normal, this new and frightful willingness to actually listen to her that was absolutely not present six months ago and they’d all be a lot less fucked if it had been and this is no time for what-ifs and-

“I can’t imagine I missed anything that vital in less than half a day,” he says once they’re behind a closed door, not quite making eye contact and clearly trying to distract her. She forgets sometimes that he knows her habits just as well, and hers haven’t dramatically changed recently so that’s even easier, and-

“You are at least aware where you are right now,” she mutters, almost a question. “Turn your head for five minutes and someone tries to cause the apocalypse by accident, again.”

“I know you have more important things to do than-“

“Sit down and shut up for long enough for me to-“

“It’s nothing,” he says in that avoidant voice that used to mean something entirely different between them. “Hurts like hell, but… I’ve dealt with worse.”

Goddamn right he has, Abby thinks and won’t say. At least there’s nothing visibly wrong, at least-

“Make this easier for yourself and tell me what happened before I start removing your clothes until I find it.”

Apparently that’s the necessary level of directness today. Marcus leans down and undoes one of his boots, and… yep, ankle just slightly swollen, sizeable bruise, that’d explain the movement issues, that’d also explain-

“And what exactly did you do?”

“Ground looked level. It wasn’t.”

She kneels down and gets her fingers on the injury, feeling the damage. At least he didn’t manage to break anything, probably just a twist, still unpleasant but not-

“I’m going to wrap that,” she murmurs. “You need to rest it for a few days. I don’t care if-“

“I’m fine. I can’t-“

Abby leans up and glares at him with every bit of fury she can put into her facial expression. “Do you see yourself right now? Do you see these colors that human skin isn’t supposed to-“

“Fine,” he repeats.

“You are supposed to be my other half here. And that means it ruins my life if you go out and hurt yourself any further because of stupid masculine bravado or your barely concealed death wish or-“

“I don’t rest well. You of all people know that.”

Yes, she thinks, the number of times she had to physically tackle him despite being in more pain herself because their combined recovery situation was designed more for supervision than actual enforced healing sure was a time, she’s amazed that even worked, and-

“But I’m the only person left you’ll listen to,” she counters. “And I’m not saying bedrest – I’d like to, but I know you. I’m saying for the next three days your world consists of your normal indoor haunts and ideally not a lot of movement between them, understand?”

It’s not the compromise she wants to make, but she knows how far she can push. And if he spends most of his waking hours on the couch in their shared office, that means she can supervise him and make sure…

Oh, nevermind. Trying to save that man from himself is always a losing battle. She’s known that since she was fifteen. Decades later, she still tries anyways.

“Stay where you can see me,” he correctly interprets. “Understood.”

She moves away for long enough to find an adequate bandage and wraps it around his ankle as tight as she can, just enough structure to control further damage. He’s lucky he didn’t manage to do worse to himself, but it’s probably only a matter of time before-

She’s never actually considered the possibility of her life without him. She doesn’t like that thought.

“There. Is that…”

“I’ll deal.”

It’s not the answer she necessarily wants, but it’ll do. This is no time to actually voice her worry, and-

“I need you,” she repeats anyways.

“Understood.”

[tinlizziedlinwa]

Don't read this.

I'm sooo damned tired on so many levels

My back is freaking killing me. I can't walk upright, it hurts like hell to stand up from my chair, and I probably couldn't get up at all if it didn't have good armrests I can push off against.

My neck is giving me stabbing "twinges" if I move my head too fast or too much.

Mental health has been in decline for years, and the last 6 or 8 months it's accelerated. I've been a chronic depressive for most of my life, with constant negative thoughts and a steady background of passive suicidal ideation. My baseline has usually been hoping that I'll go to sleep and never wake up again.

Well, that "baseline" is creeping a bit. Now I find myself wondering more and more about ways to end myself that won't make too much mess for others to clean up. I've always had self-destructive tendancies, and self-harm is commonplace. These last few months I've been smoking like a freaking chimney and my diet has gone to shit. Given my past cardiac history, I'm headed for another heart-attack. Of course I can't predict when it'll happen... it's kinda like I've put myself in Schroedinger's Cat's place. When the waveform finally collapses, I'm not calling 911. If that takes too long, there are options.

Does this mean I'm a selfish asshole? Possibly. Part of me doesn't care for that, but as a defense-mechanism on the survivor's behalf, I can't really blame them, either.

I could spend a million words blaming everyone else for all my problems... A part of me really does want to point fingers... But what purpose does that serve? That particular instinct of mine will only spread even more pain and won't benefit anyone.

My employment has most likely ended by now (I've not spoken with anyone at work in over a month), I've not made a mortgage payment since April, my bank accounts are empty. Soon, my time here will end and after a brief time closing down this "estate," nobody will have to think of me again. This existence will disappear.

So many times I've been made to feel like I'm a blight that others are forced to deal with. They'll breathe easier once I'm not taking their oxygen anymore.

I'm too damned introverted, with too many autistic traits (no, I've not been formally diagnosed) to ever "fit in." So many times my perspective on things is unwelcome. People have the reality they seem to desperately want to live in, and then I'd come around and wind up poking holes in their ideas and beliefs. My choices then get reduced to having to lie to myself, to lie to other people, to sacrifice my honor and integrity, and sit there quietly while molehills get piled up into mountains and shit burns all around. Things that should be at most a singular tempest in a teacup get turned into raging shitstorms for no good reason, while important long-term issues are swept under the rug. Consequences and spill-over effects completely ignored until they flare up and bite everyone on the ass.

I'm tired of the hypocrisy that seems inherent in human nature. People who can't even see that they're lying to themselves... I truly don't understand how they do it. But it's fucking everywhere.

If that's what "normal" is... no, thank you. I'm too tired to play those games. I've been browbeat too many times when I've spoken my mind.

This will be over soon.

[pourcap]

thoughts: kr chapter 2

laurent pov???? oh my god

he wakes up after getting hit over the head, tied up, AND has a dislocated shoulder? wow. what the fuck. (i knew he wouldn't just leave damen and the others alone in what was supposed to be a fight against his uncle but i am still relieved it didn't turn out to be him actually betraying anyone)

He opened his eyes and met the flat-nosed stare of Govart. ‘Hello, Princess.' oh no. i knew govart would be a problem when laurent let him go

Panic spiked his pulse, an involuntary reaction, his blood beating against the inside of his skin like it was trapped. Very carefully, he made himself do nothing. it's so interesting to see these situations through his eyes because i can't get over the fact that everyone (except damen later on) considers him ice-cold/heartless/etc when really laurent just experiences feelings way too intensely

(...) A ludicrous boyish hope flared that someone would come to help him, and, carefully, he extinguished it. Since the age of thirteen, there had been no rescuer, for his brother was dead. (...) my biggest problem with reading captive prince is that i end up crying all the time. reading about auguste is heartbreaking enough even when it's damen's pov, but it's especially painful like this, when it's laurent thinking of his brother :(

(...) He thought that if things got very bad, it was within his capabilities to precipitate the end. Govart would not be difficult to provoke into lethal violence. (...) i knew getting a look into laurent's mind would be painful but holy shit. he can't seriously consider his own death this passively? like, he's just, 'if i die, at least i know how to bully govart into making it quick' ???

He thought that Auguste would not be afraid, being alone and vulnerable to a man who planned to kill him; it should not trouble his younger brother. okay... honestly idk what to think about this. either auguste was the bravest person in the world or laurent a) clings to the idea that he was to give himself more strength, or b) he's idolized his brother so much that he forgot that auguste was just a man, too. idk. either way, it hurts lol

(...) The Akielon slave would (of course) assume treachery on the part of the Veretian forces, after which he would launch some sort of noble and suicidal attack at Charcy that he would probably win, against ridiculous odds. 'the akielon slave'? that can't be how he thinks of damen. idk if it's because it's difficult for him to have both damen and auguste in his thoughts at the same time, so he distances himself from damen, or if he thinks damen won't want to be around him anymore now that laurent missed their appointment (aka laurent tries to put emotional distance between them before he ends up getting hurt by damen's disappointment/anger). i do however like that laurent trusts damen to find a way out of the terrible situation at charcy though <3

'How’s your shoulder?’ said Laurent. sweetie...

(...) he enjoyed the look he had provoked on Govart’s face, as he had enjoyed, for the same reason—if a bit masochistically—the blow. Because he couldn’t quite keep that from his eyes, Govart hit him again. (...) god. laurent.

He made himself speak without undue emotion, just a mild remark on the facts. i haaaaate this. honestly, with all of his emotions constantly repressed like this, it's no wonder why he behaved the way he did in book 1, especially since he pretty much had his hands tied just as much as damen

'(...) He said, “The only way to make sure my nephew doesn’t talk his way free is to cut his tongue out.”’ As he spoke, Govart pulled out a knife. i hate him sooo much, and by him i mean both govart and the regent

(...) His tongue was intact, because the knife was in his shoulder. He had accounted that a victory, when it had happened. i just want to give laurent the biggest hug

guion??? ugh. please no.

'Know what?’ ‘The secret. Your clever secret. What it is you have on my uncle.’ ‘Shut up,’ said Govart. yesss i love this little shit-stirrer so much

Laurent closed his eyes, wrapped his unsteady left hand around the hilt, and pulled the knife out of his shoulder. i love himmmmm

Govart smiled, amused and pleased, as a jaded voyeur at some unexpected minor final act of a play. i have a feeling he's not going be so happy in a couple moments

As, with his ruined right arm, Laurent swung the chair. what

god

okay

that was hot

laurent is so cool

(...) Laurent focused all his remaining strength on the task of reaching the barred door and placing himself on the other side of it, dragging it closed behind him and turning the key that was still in the lock. Govart didn’t get up. i am smiling SO much !!

He did laugh then, a breathless sound, with the sweet, cool feel of the stone at his back. His head lolled. :( he's in so much pain and exhausted and the coolest person ever

'Guion,’ said Laurent, without opening his eyes. ‘You had me tied up and locked in a room with Govart. Do you think name-calling will hurt my feelings?' god i LOVE him. so sorry for constantly repeating myself but he is so funny and smart and talented and beautiful and cunning and witty and--

'There was a man I was supposed to meet. He’s got all these ideas about honour and fair play, and he tries to keep me from doing the wrong thing. But he’s not here right now. Unfortunately for you.' did he. did he just. say. that?

damen really is laurent's impulse control <3

love how laurent just called damen the best man he knows <3

'Isn’t there? I wonder how my uncle is going to react when he finds out that you killed Govart and helped me to escape.’ And then, in the same dreamy voice, ‘Do you think he’ll hurt your family?' in a DREAMY voice. laurent is terrifying <3

'Didn’t you? I don’t know how these rumours get started.' i never thought i'd be so happy over someone blatantly being a lying, manipulative asshole <3 (fuck guion)

i am a HUGE fan of govart still lying on the floor unconscious and hopefully dead

laurent's brain is so sexy

Pressing his left hand to his shoulder, he pushed away from the wall and came forward. Guion, inside the cell, was breathing shallowly. 'No one knows I’m here. Which means no one knows you’re here. No one’s going to look, no one’s going to come, no one’s going to find you.' i know i always talk about how intimidating damen is but laurent?? god. incredible.

'No one’s going to help your family when my uncle comes, all smiles.' literally every one of the regent's men is so stupid. they KNOW he's capable of the worst things imaginable and still work for him despite all that?? no wonder aimeric felt cornered and scared and was so desperate to somehow make it out alive

LOVED this chapter

laurent is so cool

[daltonacademia]

this photo- and what it means.

I recently hung up this photo of the poets in my room, and it's really started to get me thinking.

This post is a fairly long analysis so it's all below the cut. Also, tw: there are mentions of suicide.

Notice what each of the poets are wearing. Their outfits in this picture perfectly reflect their personalities and/or defining traits.

-Charlie is dressed in sweats, showing his casual-ness and his contrast to Welton and their formal school uniforms.

-Meeks is dressed a bit more academically, but in a way that reflects his own personality, not the academic aspects valued by Welton.

-Todd is wearing something simple, easy to hide in. Something that doesn't 100% comply with Welton, but not something that doesn't oppose it (from the stance of him at the beginning of the movie).

-Now Cameron is wearing something that Mr. Nolan would look proudly at. A formal outfit, no discernable flaws, but also no flare. Even his vest is wrinkle-free.

-Pitt's ensemble resembles Todd's a lot, besides the fact that he's wearing a button up under it. I think this shows that while he may be unassuming and passive on the outside, underneath he's smart. Again his outfit complies with Welton's standards, but doesn't exceed them.

-Knox wears a Welton sweatshirt that looks distinctly sporty, contrasting everyone else outfit. I think this shows that his pursuits, like Charlie's, lay beyond academics. Plus Knox has been associated with more sporty activities throughout the movie, such as his bike ride around time and watching the public high schools football team/cheerleaders.

-And finally, Neil is wearing a V-Neck sweater with a white button up under it, which has a button or two undone. I think this symbolizes his simultaneous compliance and defiance with the systems Welton has put in place. He wears their ideal uniform, most similar to Cameron's, but in a way that would be considered improper. And also notice he lacks Cameron's tie, showing that he doesn't have school spirit, as if the tie was a medal that he discarded.

---

The position of every poet in this photo is important as well.

-Charlie sits closest to the camera, sitting improperly on a desk. It shows how big his personality is, and the domineering influence he has on the Dead Poets as a group.

-Neil and Meeks are next closest to the camera. This also shows their importance to the group; Neil was the first one to suggest starting the society, and Meeks helps with schoolwork. Also note that Neil is the only one sitting properly in a chair, which reminded me of the scene with the gun towards the end of the movie (though I'm sure that was pure coincidence). Also take note that Meeks sits behind Charlie, showing his loyalty and submission to him, which is displayed throughout the movie.

-Now onto Cameron, Mr. Keating, and Knox. While their placement with the camera doesn't seem as relevant as the other characters, there still are a few important details. One- notice how Keating is closest to the center. No one blocks him, almost as if he's in he spotlight. I think the boys hold him in such a regard that they could almost see him as a holy figure who deserves the spot. Cameron's body is turned away from Keating, showing his disconnect from his teachings and foreshadowing his eventual betrayal. Knox is partially out of frame, which could symbolize that he only finds true satisfaction away from the poets and Welton itself- in Chris.

-Fianlly, we have Todd and Pitts. You can already see from the photo and their outfits that there are some connections between the two characters, and this is presented in the photo aswell. Todd is hidden behind everyone else, probably symbolizing his mentaility that he is inferior to everyone, and just his anxiety in general. Pitts also stands behind everyone else, donning a smile which contrasts Todd’s unhappy expression. This probably represents that Pitts is happy to be in the back, versus Todd who wants to be in the front.

---

Here’s my final thoughts/other minor details:

-I think the meaning behind each of the poets expressions is fairly obvious. Most wear lazy smiles, Cameron wears a picture-perfect yearbook grin, Neil wears a very obvious fake smile, and Todd wears a borderline frown. 

-Cameron’s hand on Neil’s shoulder. In this photo it’s hard to see whether it’s Cameron’s or Knox’s, but I found the same photo from a different angle and it’s clearly Cam’s. Plus, it makes more sense within the story. Neil is consistantly nice to Cameron, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Cam was closest with him compared to the other poets. (Plus, Cameron seems to be the one helping Neil study trig, which supports this. Feel free to add more evidence).

-This one is a bit of a stretch, but still interesting to think about: the watch on Neil’s wrist. His watch is latched onto his left hand, and Neil shoots himself with his left hand. Could the watch symbolize that he has limited time? No one else in the photo is wearing a watch from what I can tell, besides maybe Keating. But remember, in the original DPS script, Mr. Keating was supposed to have a fatal terminal illness, meaning his time was also limited. Of course, we do have to remember RSL is a lefty, but it’s still food for thought.

Feel free to add onto this with your own connections/theories.

[coppercorn-and-cauldron]

I have a sneaking suspicion that a certain thread has flared up again.

I've suddenly got an influx of shitty, juvenile, severely lacking in queer history knowledge, anons in my inbox.

I shall take this opportunity to say yet again, that if you want to send me death threats and suicide bait then have the testicular/ovarian fortitude to say it to me off anon. Otherwise, .....

I can't decide if I want to be passive-aggressive and just post a lot of things that'll make their collective eyes twitch or just be aggressive-aggressive and just yell at individual arseholes for choosing to be fucknuckles.

[soukokuwu]

ADA!DAZAI OSAMU

》 angst angst angst (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! death/suicide, talks of sexual abuse

》 word count: 3k

》 i had no idea it would turn out this long, i tried my best to cut out some stuff, sorry if this isn’t great, 🥺

“come back. even as a shadow, even as a dream.”

You were always smiling. That so, very infectious smile of yours. You were also sickeningly sweet, as though every word that spilled out of your mouth was laced with sugar. In the Armed Detective Agency, it was as though you were everyone’s happy pill. You were but a mere assistant, assisting in adhoc tasks whenever it was asked of you. Still, you made it a point to make a friend of everyone, making sure they had everything they needed, even if they hadn’t asked for it.

That was how observant you were. Dazai remembered the first week you were there, he had been chided by Kunikida to finish up a case report, and since Atsushi was nowhere around, he had no choice but to finish it up himself. The sun was setting, and although you were usually gone by then, he found a cup of coffee being placed on his desk.

He remembered looking up at you, and you wore that same smile you had on the first day Naomi introduced you to everyone. That beautiful smile, the one he could never forget. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, making quite a notable crease on your shirt. You must have been about to leave, but noticed him working, so you went to brew a new pot of coffee just for him, Dazai had thought to himself, seeing as the coffee had usually been depleted by this time of day.

So sickeningly sweet.

“Ah, belladonna,” Dazai had cooed, grabbing your hand in his before you could manage to get away. “Does this mean you are the one to commit a double suicide with me?”

He had expected a fully submissive reply, maybe a ‘Why, yes, of course,’ or at least a full out denial, something along the lines of ‘Are you crazy, Dazai?’ It had been your first actual conversation after all.

“Only if the circumstances are right,” you had said.

Then, gently, you pulled your hand from his and turned to leave. And just like the colourful sunset, he watched you gradually fade away.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The next time the two of you interacted, it was two weeks after your first. It was Kyouka’s birthday and the entire office was decorated for a celebration. Dazai wasn’t one for celebrations, and would usually be the first to leave, but at the time he felt compelled to stay. You intrigued him, after all. Although it didn’t make for much progress, since the two of you just calmly sipped champagne in the corner, exchanging small talk about the chaos unfolding in front of your eyes, slightly buzzed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One day, Dazai was pouting over what Kunikida did earlier on one of their missions– he had thrown his favourite book The Complete Guide To Suicide into the river, and dragged him along as he pursued after the criminal, much as Dazai wanted to jump in to retrieve it. “All I did was recite different forms of suicide as we were working,” Dazai whined, to which Kunikida, who was seated opposite from him, just rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna get me a new one.”

“In your dreams, it’s just a stupid book.”

“But the store doesn’t have it anymore! You’re gonna print me one!”

To which Kunikida paid no mind.

But there you appeared, giggling and handing Dazai a box of sweets. “Here, maybe these will make you feel better.”

He popped one in his mouth. “Yes, they really do. Thank you, my belladonna, my saviour!” Dazai made it a point to be overdramatic as usual.

Of course, it didn’t, really. They’re just sweets, how could they make him feel better? But he said so, all the same, if only to just see the content smile you flashed at him, thinking you had succeeded.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Christmas rolled around, and Dazai had planned to leave early, being tired from the recent jobs. He didn’t feel like celebrating with everyone else. But just as he set one foot out the door, he felt someone poke at his back.

He turned, only to find you holding out a black gift box, tightened with a golden bow. It felt a little heavy. “Thought you might like this,” you had whispered in his ear before you went back to join the others.

Dazai got home, happier than ever. Why did you do this? He couldn’t contain himself and had opened the box right after he left the building. He didn’t even realise that he practically skipped home the entire time after that. With a spring in his step, he entered the apartment, turned on the lights, took a quick shower and laid belly down on the tatami. Humming to himself, he pulled out the gifts: three small bottles of sake and his favourite book.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He found himself softening up around you after that, comfortable enough to actually want to consider you an actual friend. He felt a genuine niceness from you, and he couldn’t reject that, as much as he thought that he didn’t deserve it. As the months passed, everyone else in the ADA got around to calling you two ‘best friends’ or more so, ‘troublemakers’.

“You have totally brought her astray, idiot,” was Kunikida’s most-used phrase.

Dazai denied, thinking it was only partly correct. True, you were easy to get along with, and so you always played along with whatever Dazai had planned, which consisted of having fun in the office, mainly pranking his blonde partner. But you were still you. Still the same, eager-to-please, sickeningly sweet girl that entered their lives months ago. It was not a crime to be playful, and gradually, he found himself feeling a little... lighter.

You were a passive person, always giving in to other people. But as much as you were predictable in various situations, in many others, Dazai could not, for the life of him, ever guess the meaning behind your actions. He would never get bored talking to you, and he liked it very much, even though sometimes he would complain about ‘not knowing who you really were’, given that you barely ever talked about yourself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Soon, the two of you got closer, having dinners together in either your’s or his apartment, only leaving when one of you was completely tired. It was as though the two of you were inseparable. But the moment Dazai caught on that you were falling quick for him, while at the same time ignoring his own growing feelings, he reminded himself time and again, this was as far as he would ever go.

This meant times where he would purposely make you feel as though he could care less. But other times made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Nothing that ever crossed the line of friendship, though. No, that would be much too complicated for Dazai.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One day he got mad at you, more so due to his own frustration than anything else. You had appeared at the cemetery, holding a bouquet of flowers and holding them out to him. All he could think of at that moment was: What the fuck? Who’re those for? The friend he was visiting? It was the anniversary of his death for Christ‘s sake, Dazai just wanted to be alone. That did not translate into a friendly mood for him.

He got up from the grass and shot you a mean glare. “Please don’t offer me anything for my friend, it’s not like you knew him. Would it kill you to respect boundaries for once and stop being an insufferable people-pleaser?”

So that day he left you standing at the foot of his one true friend’s grave, wondering what you did wrong.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The house visits ended. So did your dinners. The weight on Dazai’s shoulders felt heavy again. He felt bad for lashing out at you, and even more for not apologising for it, but truth be told, he thought this was probably for the best. Maybe you’d get over your little crush this way, since Dazai would probably never initiate anything anyway. Yes, this was good for you, he convinced himself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

A few nights later, the screaming started. A man yelled back, though Dazai couldn’t quite make out what he said. He heard the door slamming, hurried footsteps running past his apartment door. This continued for a few more nights.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One night, curiosity got the better of him, and he knocked at your door.

“Are you in there? Is everything okay?”

A moment of silence.

“Go away.”

Dazai cursed under his breath, wishing that the other ADA members hadn’t gone out to dinner so late. Now what?

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The next day, he was determined. Whatever it was, it sounded serious, and he wasn’t that heartless. You were, at one point, his happy pill too. He’d at least want to see, with his own eyes, that you were okay. He strutted in through the ADA door, his favourite book in his hand as usual.

But you didn’t show up at the office. None of the others knew where you were. As far as they were concerned, you were supposed to show up for work but didn’t. Maybe you were sick?

The most disturbing answer though, was when people kept telling him, “Shouldn’t you know? She’s been having dinners with you, hasn’t she?”

It’s been two months since he flared up at you. No one else realised anything was amiss. You probably did a good job at hiding it. Probably came up with good excuses why the two of you weren’t making trouble in the office anymore. Or even seen interacting anymore. No one seemed concerned. No one else heard the screaming. You probably had an inkling when more people were home, not raising your voice out of consideration. How... considerate of you?

A sudden ominous feeling came over him. Every other thought out the door, he ran off. The Complete Guide To Suicide, slightly tattered, fell to the floor.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Fast forward to the present, Dazai was sitting on the grass resting against the gravestone, a book in his hands. He smiled weakly as his hands glossed over your handwriting. He had found the book on your table, that same day he found you.

The sight of your lifeless body on the bathroom floor, surrounded by a pool of blood, was a sight he could never forget. How could he? He had held you in his arms, and that time, it was his turn to scream. He couldn’t remember how long he spent in there before Kunikida came rushing in. All he remembered was your face, though blurred from all his tears. And your blood, staining his clothes, soaking his palm.

No chance to say goodbye, to hear that melodic voice, not even a last time to see your beautiful eyes. There was just... nothing. As he sat there with you, he spotted the scars littering your forearms. Both old and new. And now he realised why it was that you always wore long sleeves. Regrets piled up in him, one after the other.

He didn’t want to let you go with the paramedics, but he was forced to. Kunikida pulled him away from your body. Dazai refused to answer any questions, choosing instead to promise to change and stay in his apartment. Which he broke. He snuck over to your place after a change of clothes. He wanted to feel your warmth somehow, at least one last time. That’s when he found the book. And your letter.

He remembered his hands trembling as he reached for it, the delicate writing on the envelope messing with his heart. You had addressed it to ‘Osamu, my sunshine’.

Sickeningly sweet.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

“To my dear friend,

I wanted this letter to explain my intentions, to tell you why I did this. But now that I’m actually writing this... I don’t really know what to say. Which is why I decided that this book is yours.

You’re Dazai, you must know what it is, right? A-ha! You’re right! It’s my diary! A certain someone kept complaining he never really knew me, right? This is my reply. 

Sorry for the messy handwriting in the first half of the book, I started writing in it when I was a kid. Inside you’ll find everything I had no courage to admit to, no matter how much I trusted you. What I do admit, though, is the first time I found out you were suicidal, I already felt like I wanted to know you better. And I have no regrets. I’m so glad I met you.

I wanted to be stronger than this, I swear I did... But I can’t stand the thoughts in my head, the memories that still haunt me to this day. I know there’s a possibility for me to be happy, someday, somewhere, but I just can’t continue feeling like this. It sucks and... I can’t do this anymore.

You were the only one who could ever make me feel like living, believe me. I guess I just couldn’t stand against my misfortunes. I know that deep down there’s a part of you that cares, and to him, I’m sorry.”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

And that was it. The last words you ever wrote to him. Your words reflected you, from how you tried to be optimistic at first, but in the end you succumbed as you thought about whatever it was that led to your demise. Dazai felt a pang as he remembered the last words you said to him. The tone in your voice as you said them. He blinked away the tears and turned the page.

Your diary did indeed help him understand everything and why they unfolded the way they did. Although he would call it anything but truly knowing you. How can he ever say that when he couldn’t save you?

He remembered some pages more distinctly than others. There was one he knew he could remember, word for word. You had been a normal kid, an introvert, and your thoughts mirrored who you grew up to be: a passive, compassionate person. Until that night.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

I woke up just now. I felt uncomfortable. I wake up and I see him there, and I feel his hands. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t move. I was scared. Something screamed in me to move, to shout, to run. Why didn't I? I can’t even... save myself. How much more useless can I get?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

You had blamed yourself for what he did to you. You thought you did something wrong. You were so upset, so in pain. Until your brother got wind of what happened. And as Dazai read on, he realised why you were so quiet about who you were. Who would find it easy to admit that their father had killed their brother for standing up for them? What’s more, how could you tell anyone, when you felt responsible for his death? Now he knew why you never questioned him. Because you understood.

You stopped writing a few months after that, choosing instead to express yourself by drawing. You drew sceneries, the stars, and who he assumed to be your brother, a young boy hand-in-hand with a girl whose face you didn’t fill in. Dazai turned the page and spotted a sketch of him, at his desk on the computer. He smiled. You were so talented, making him out to look so good in a sketch. You started writing again after that.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

He’s weird. A little like me. But maybe a little less hopeless.

We were the only two calm people in a sea of chaos. It was nice.

Maybe I do want to find a reason to live.

I gave my colleague a sweet. He said he felt better. I must be doing something right!

My favourite book, it’s time to part ways with you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

He should’ve known it was yours. It looked a little used, but he just guessed you got it at a second-hand book store. 

The next page after that was a sketch of everyone in the ADA, and he chuckled at how fierce you made Kunikida look.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Being in the ADA... kind of like the family I wish I had.

I still feel a little empty, why?

Scratch that. Dazai is a ball of sunshine (´ω`)

We drew in Kuni’s ‘ideals’ notebook. He’s pretty funny when he’s all mad and frazzled. He’s how I imagine a father to be... but how would I know, right?

Time to visit you, brother. How’ve you been?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Dazai could just slap himself for misunderstanding your intentions that day. You had gone to visit your brother, but all he did was go and make you feel bad about being concerned about him. He didn’t even ask. How selfish of him.

And then you didn’t write again. Until the screaming started.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Out of everyone in the world, the one I wish I would never see again appeared in front of me. How did you even find me? Fuck off already. Early release for good behaviour? What a joke.

I wish he would stop appearing here already. I don’t even know how he found me. But every time I see him I remember everything like it was yesterday.

He didn’t appear today. Finally. Some peace to myself.

And... again. I’m so tired of this. I can’t just run. I joined the agency because I wanted to be where they save people. It would be bad to run... right?

They can do without me... running wouldn’t be too horrible... right?

I’m tired... I’m really so, so tired...

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

That was it. For words. What a turn of events. Everyone’s happy pill found him, Dazai, as her personal ray of sunshine? Him? The suicidal maniac? He could hardly believe it the first time he read it. He wished he had known. How could he have missed such a big part of you? Sure, he found it weird how you managed to be so bubbly all the time, but this wasn't something he had considered.

He envisioned you having to sit in the office, smiling at everyone like everything was normal even though your worst nightmare had come back to haunt you. He realised your consideration came out of the fact that no one ever gave you what you needed, hence your constant tendency to provide what anyone needed. Dazai swept away a tear from his cheek as he sensed a presence closing in.

“We missed you at the funeral.”

Kunikida appeared and stood in front of his partner, expression grim. It was true, Dazai couldn’t bring himself to send you off last week. When Dazai refused to acknowledge him, Kunikida sighed. “There’s... nothing we can do about it. All we can really do is grieve. We’ll be at the office if you ever need to talk.” And then his partner turned and left.

Dazai scoffed, pulling a glock from inside his coat. He pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple and rested against it.

“Is it really?” he asked, to no one at all, closing his eyes.

Should I join you?

“if tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, i’d walk right up to heaven, and bring you home again.”

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Matchup ♥

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Naruto, One Piece, and Free Match-Up Request

May I request another match-up but for Free, One Piece, and Naruto this time? :) Here’s all my info once more!

Name: Corethra (or Corey for short)

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Hand Packer at an ice cream factory. I work 12 hours (5:30pm to 6am) on a rotating schedule.

Birthplace: Memphis, TN, USA. I was raised in the neighborhood called Frayser which is the most impoverished area in Memphis and has a high crime rate as expected.

Zodiac Sign: Pisces (born March 2) My full birth chart can be found here

Enneagram: 5w6

Chinese Zodiac: Year Of The Pig

MBTI Type: INFJ

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Love Language: Acts Of Service

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 4'11 (Call me short and I’ll kick your butt!)

Body Type/Shape: Average but well developed figure at best. I weigh about 158 lbs and am pretty insecure about my body. I also have really bad scars on my left arm from being bitten by a dog.

Hair Color/Style: Black and naturally curly but I keep it flat-ironed so it’s straight. It’s long and goes down to just below my shoulder blades. There are times when I will have braids put in of various lengths.

Glasses or No?: Yes I wear glasses

Eye Color: Brown

Dress Style: I usually dress up in a casual way, just throwing on whatever looks good at the time but I will sometimes put in the effort when the time calls for it or when I’m in a good mood. I have an affinity for the punk, emo, and goth styles and I rarely wear feminine clothes but I will wear something risky every once in a while.

Hobbies/Interests: Video games, reading, writing, anime, internet surfing, listening to music, politics (sometimes), watching movies/TV shows, basically being an overall nerd. I’m usually either on my laptop or one of my many video game consoles if I’m not on my phone or reading one of my books.

Dislikes: Ignorance, stupidity, restriction, manipulation/gas-lighting, bullying, humanity, not being understood, corruption/injustice, close-mindedness

Personality: At first glance, I seem quiet and keep to myself, only speaking when I need to or when I’m spoken to. I’m an anti-social introvert to the fullest and don’t care much for small talk or going out. I prefer to have deeper conversations. When I get comfortable enough in whatever environment I’m in, I start to open up bit by bit. I’m a tomboy and pretty rough-minded as well as stubborn. I’m very sassy, have a smart, sarcastic, and witty mouth if not humorous and outrageous at times, can be borderline rude and mean, and I’m more sensitive than I care to be. I can literally cry at someone’s suffering especially if it’s someone I’m close to or even a total stranger. I’m very empathetic and my heart is bigger than what most people would expect. Most people describe me as quiet, intelligent, creative, dorky, a smartass, and really sweet. I love a good laugh and have an open sense of humor to boot.

Many of my friends say that I’m very sweet and kind which I usually am if I’m in a good mood as well as affectionate as hell. Hugs and pet names galore with me! However only my friends and family see that side of me. My language is often unfiltered, harsh, foul, and blunt which shocks people because they think I’m a pure angel. I say what I want when I want and no one tells me otherwise. If they do, they can expect a mouthful from me. I’m an escapist and very imaginative, can be a bit scatterbrained at times, and I’m methodical and detailed to the point of perfectionism. I’m usually a walking contradiction in terms of personality in so many ways to the point where the real me is almost impossible to decipher. To make matters more complicated, I’m not very good at expressing myself verbally and prefer to let my actions do the talking. I also express myself better through written form.

I have many pet peeves and I get annoyed easily in general. I’m also slowly embracing misanthropy and nihilism but I can be pretty idealistic so it balances out. I’m practically zero tolerance when it comes to bullshit. I hate confrontation and conflict but I’m starting to work on it so I can be less passive-aggressive and more assertive. I also wish to stand up for myself more often than I should so people won’t think that I’m weak and an easy target. I’m pretty cynical which is to be expected and usually expect the worst from people. When someone angers me, I will either just withdraw altogether and completely cut them off (slam the door basically) or get in their face and go off before doing the former. I’m the “hold my anger in and release it all at once” type but I hope to change that one day and stop letting things fester before they get out of hand. I can be quite petty and even cold as well and if someone wrongs me, they will have to make the first move to mend fences. I refuse to apologize if I’m not in the wrong and I will not accept gaslighting/guilt tripping. I also refuse to change for others and will admit to having quite a lot of pride but that’s mostly due to me not wanting to be hurt and manipulated, mistreated, or used.

I have issues with trust and a wild imagination to boot. I usually trust my instincts and can see right through bullshit. I don’t like taking risks and I have to know all the details when I do something so I don’t mess up and look like an idiot. I am indeed a perfectionist and introverted to a fault which often prevents me from trying new things and going outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been in a relationship yet and am still a virgin due to my issues with trust and not wanting to be hurt or humiliated as well as being quite picky/perfectionistic with the people I allow in my life. I have high standards for both people and myself although I’m pretty laid-back and my dislike of conflict allows me to also take a lot of shit from people too before I eventually say “fuck it” and slam the door or go off on them. I don’t think very highly of myself and can sometimes fall into a period of self-hatred and self-pity.

Many people praise me for my intelligence which is fitting since I’m an intellectual. My ideals and beliefs are rather odd to say the least (I’m a classical liberal/independent and despise most ideologies/ideas. This includes religion, feminism, social justice, traditionalism, statism, big government, nationalism, socialism/communism, etc.) and I feel misunderstood because of it (mostly because of the black community ostracizing me). I am indeed a rebel, open-minded, and a free thinker. No one tells me how to think or feel or else they face my wrath. I highly value power over myself and I think it’s the most important thing that a person needs in order to survive. I am definitely an outcast at heart and I often distance myself from others and don’t like talking about my feelings or beliefs because I think most people lack the ability/capacity to understand me. Before I give my opinion on something, I like to do as much research as possible as well as look at things from all perspectives before coming to my own conclusion. I don’t mind discussing things but I prefer logic over emotion when doing so which makes it damn near impossible these days for me to have an real conversation without insults and threats being thrown (usually towards me). Chances are I’m gonna find something wrong with damn near anything someone believes in or says and I’m not afraid to call it out when I see it. Once I do open up and express how I feel, the gates of passion will open up and never close. I also have high morals and values and stick to my guns no matter what which can make me pretty stubborn at times.

I’m currently battling depression and often experience many symptoms of it including suicidal thoughts and depression spells. I also suffer from iron-deficiency anemia as well as irregular, prolonged periods. These things are pretty annoying for me to deal with whenever they flare up. 

Overall, I’m pretty crazy and a handful to deal with. Good luck matching me up with someone :P

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hello @sacredwarrior88 and thank you so much for requesting with us! I am so sorry that this came out so late, but I do hope you enjoy this!

>Admin 𝕋

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽…

Ace! I feel that you and ace would be such a great couple! He is open minded and kind to others whereas you are the same way! You are passionate like he is, caring like he is, loyal to the bone like he is! He would see you and see your personality and just instantly fall in love you and your personality! Like, I can’t even imagine how much he will want you on his crew, so they he can keep on you and protect you at all times-- though he will soon figure out that you don’t need help, you can take care yourself--which he will find extremely attractive, no doubt about that! 

He will love that fact that you are independent, because he really values individualism and independency, he sees it as a great traits to have. But he will also love the fact that you are sensitive, and can sometimes get into your own  head. He understands that, knows it all too well, so he will try with all his might to try and make sure that you are happy and always smiling! But he will love how fierce you can be to other people, never bowing down to their expectations! 

All in all, I feel like Ace would be a great man for you in the one piece universe! He would be attentive to you, would love your attitude and personality, and would absolutely adore how loyal and strong you are! make sure to love him thoroughly!

Ah, Sai! He is much like Ace, just a little less emotional, which is fine! I feel like you and Sai would make a couple for a couple reasons! He would love how mature you are, and how logical you can be, and-- like ace-- he loves the fact that you are extremely loyal to your friends! That is a true factor in the way he will see you, and it is for the better! He will se how strong you are, emotionally and will be envious and at the same time fascinated! I Feel like Sai will look at you with wide eyes, his breath caught in his throat, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage because he will love you that much! All the things you are interested he will want to hear with enthusiasm, everything you love he will want to learn and hear from you, to get to know you better!

Another thing is that if you were to go to him with your insecurities and how you are battling depression, he will try to understand, and once he does he will try to everything and anything to make sure you feel better! You need a massage? He’s on it! You need cuddles? oh yeah he will give you some! You need chocolate or sweets or anything of the like? He’ll run to the store, and be back 5 minutes tops! 

All in all, I feel like the cool, mature Sai, with a heart of pure gold will be such a good match for you! He will make sure that you uncomfortable with him, he will never want to make you unhappy, and he will definitely do anything i his power to make sure that you will keep on loving him as much as you can!

Rei! Now, with Rei, I wanted to go a more cute route. I feel that Rei would be equal parts and scared and in love with you! He sees how strong you are against people that oppose, he sees how strong you are for your friends, and how you have such a different personality to everybody else around him, and he will immediately fall in with you. Like instantly! To him, you’d be like a beautiful butterfly blooming right in front of him, and he will want to have you all tot himself! Of course, he won’t force you, but he will definitely watch you at a distance longingly!

He is very much an introvert and your calm but strong aura would definitely help with his anxiety! I just see him melting next you, into your lap or shoulder whenever you are around him because he is so comfortable around you. He doesn’t do this with just anybody so it would be a real honor! And when it it comes to your insecurities, he would want to make sure that you know he loves you the way are, and if you were to want to change something about yourself, then he will support you all the way, as long as you are happy! He will just love that you are such a freethinker and so openminded about things, so unlike him!

All in all, I feel like Rei would love you and (somewhat) idolize because you have all these traits that he would love to have. This perfectionist will understand how it feels to be such a perfectionist and will want to help you with that too! He will love to the moon and back(stroke)!

[allmycrushesaredead]

Sad

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480694/chapters/59088052

Summary:  

Patton needs help, and finally, he gets it. Can be seen as a continuation of my previous fic, Happy.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, self-esteem issues, self-harm, panic attacks, cutting

ANGST!! You have been warned!

Originally published on 06-01-2020

Words: 2828

Chapters: 1/?

Patton didn't think that anyone noticed.

After all, he had done this several times before, although never to this extent.

But, if they hadn't noticed it before, they wouldn't notice now. At least, that's what Patton told himself.

He knew that a part of him wanted them to notice, wanted them to help him, to make him stop…

He wanted to stop…

Except he didn't.

He didn't want them to find out, didn't want them to take this away from him, not now that he was so dependent on it.

Patton shook his head in an attempt to clear it, stowing his razor away in his sock drawer.

Stop feeling bad for yourself , he thought, wrapping his arm with his bandages and pulling on a long sleeve shirt. You did this to yourself so suck it up. Put on that smile everyone expects you to have and go out there and take care of the others.

Patton spared one last glance at his reflection before plastering on the smile and stepping out to greet the other sides.

---

Logan was the first to notice.

To be fair, he wasn't particularly prone to notice changes in emotion, or even to recognize emotion in general, but he was quite skilled at recognizing changes in patterns, behaviors, and routines.

Thus, it was reasonable that he would be the first to notice that something was abnormal.

At first, Logan only had suspicions that something was amiss. Nevertheless, he could not gather enough evidence that anything was truly out of the ordinary for quite some time. That is, until this morning.

He knew immediately when he woke at exactly 6:30 a.m. that something was off in the mind palace. Call it what you wish, a hunch, intuition, a sixth sense, something in the air did not feel right. Something was different, and he was not looking forward to witnessing the consequences of such a detour from routine.

Seven minutes later, Logan stepped out of his room, trivia book in one hand. He quietly shut the door behind him before turning to go down the stairs to the kitchen.

Before he could take more than two steps, Patton's door opened with a click, the moral side stepping into the hallway, dressed in… a long sleeve shirt? Confused by this unusual choice of clothing, Logan forgot to greet the side, only to be refocused by Patton's greeting of, "Morning, Logan!"

"Salutations, Patton. Did you sleep adequately?"

Patton twisted the end of his sleeve between his fingers before replying, "I slept alright. How about you?"

Logan's eyes locked on the nervous movement, confused. It was unlike Patton to present such behaviors. In fact, the nervous fidgeting was a behavior that Virgil expressed frequently.

Logan took mental note of this discovery before replying, "I slept the recommended amount for someone of our age, so I am suitability well rested."

"Oh. Good," was Patton's weak reply.

Under further examination, Logan noticed the dark marks blemishing the skin under Patton's eyes. Despite his claims, Patton clearly had not slept well, possibly not at all. Furthermore, Patton was always bright and bubbly, no matter how early he woke up, so his quiet demeanor was concerning.

Analyzing these findings in his computer-like mind, Logan decided to question Patton further in order to gather more information.

"Are you cold, Patton? I noticed you are not wearing your usual outfit."

Patton let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I'm just a little chilly," he remarked, not meeting Logan's eyes. "Don't worry, though, I'm fine. I'm nice and toasty in this shirt."

Logan watched as a bead of sweat traced a path down his neck. "Of course," Logan replied, deciding not to question the side any further at the moment. Unnecessary prying would only make it more difficult for him to determine the problem.

Taking a step towards the stairs, Logan turned to Patton. "Would you care to accompany me to make breakfast for the others?"

"Of course!" Patton replied. "Maybe the smell of food will lure the kiddos out of bed before noon!"

---

Several minutes later, Patton had procured a heaping stack of pancakes, along with a pan of bacon and scrambled eggs.

Logan gazed fondly at the fatherly side, whose tongue was poking between his teeth in concentration. He always seemed most in his element when he was taking care of others. It was quite endearing--

AUGHHH! Logan screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Bad Logic. Emotional attachment serves only as a barrier to advancement. Stop it.

He took a sip of his coffee to hide his frustrated blush. Glancing back at Patton, he noticed another peculiar detail. He had not rolled his sleeves up, despite the fact that he was cooking and, quite frankly, they were in the way. Even now, with flour coating the fabric, he made no effort to move them.

"Patton?" Logan called curiously. "Why are you not rolling up your sleeves? Surely it cannot be comfortable for them to be in the way and getting covered in food."

Patton froze, eyes widening, staring blankly at the pan in front of him. "Um… uh- it's not that b-big of a deal," he stuttered, still not meeting Logan's gaze.

Time seemed to stop as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Logan's breath caught in his throat as he came to a conclusion. For the first time, he desperately hoped he was not correct.

"Patton," Logan said slowly, "show me your arm."

Patton dropped the spatula with a clatter, backing into the cabinet. Now he met Logan's eyes, panic clear in his face, even to Logan. "Please… please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry, please! Don't- don't- I- no-"

"Patton. Just breathe. I am not mad at you. I just want to help you and understand what is going on. So, please. Show me your arm."

Patton drew in a shaky breath, screwing his eyes closed and nodding. After a moment, he thrust out his sleeved arm, turning his face to the side, eyes still screwed shut.

Logan took a cautious step forward before gently gripping his extended hand and peeling back the sleeve. He breathed a small side of relief at the fact that it was bandaged, but quickly changed his mind when he noticed the supplies that Patton had used. He appeared to have used toilet paper that had been folded a few times over and secured with medical tape. No. This would not do.

Logan moved to remove the makeshift bandage before hesitating. "Patton?" he called gently.

The moral side made a small noise in response, cracking an eye open.

"Would you prefer to move this to a more private area, as well as one not in the same region as where we cook and eat?"

Patton gave a slight nod, gripping the logical side's hand tightly.

Slowly, Logan sank out of the kitchen, rising again in his own bathroom.

"Is this location adequate? I have more supplies in here that I can utilize than somewhere else."

Patton nodded again, opening his eyes slightly more.

"I am going to remove the bandage now," Logan said softly. "I will need both my hands, however, as well as a moment to wash them before I begin."

Reluctantly, Patton loosened his grip on Logan's hand, moving to clutch his thighs, digging his nails into the flesh before wincing, a hiss of pain escaping his lips.

Logan dried his hands on a towel before rummaging in the medicine cabinet and removing a few labeled and meticulously organized first aid kits and tubs.

He turned to Patton, who was still standing, staring blankly at the tiled floor. "Do you have any other wounds on other areas of your body?" Logan asked gently. "I noticed you seemed pained when you touched your thighs. I will not be mad if there were other areas, I merely wish to tend to any and all of your needs to assist you in any way I can."

"Arms and thighs," Patton murmured.

Logan nodded, pain and sympathy flaring up in his chest. The fire licked at his eyes, threatening to tear up. Taking a slow breath, Logan refocused.

"Could you remove the articles of clothing that are covering said areas?"

Patton nodded once more, wincing as he pulled his arms free of the shirt, tossing it on the floor before attempting to wriggle out of his pants. He didn't get very far before his belt scraped against his thigh, dragging a strangled cry from his lips. He teetered slightly from the rush of pain, almost toppling to the floor before Logan grasped his sides with two steady hands.

"I have you, you are alright," Logan assured, being careful not to bump Patton's arms.

Patton nodded again before shucking his pants off the rest of the way.

Logan continued to support him with one hand as he closed the toilet lid, pulling a towel from the rack to cover it.

"If you would sit here," he requested, guiding the side to the seat.

Snapping his fingers, Logan summoned a small stool. He hated summoning, but in a time such as this, it was the most logical decision.

Seating himself in front of Patton, Logan eyed the twin bandages on both his arms and legs before noticing Patton's hands frantically clenching and shaking. Reaching out his mind, he found a tool that would aid this problem. Snapping again, he summoned a stress ball shaped like an atom, Logan's personal favorite. Silently, he handed it to Patton, who took it gratefully. Now Logan began to remove the bandages on Patton's right arm. 

Despite his attempts to remain calm and passive, Logan felt his eyes widen at the sheer amount of cuts littering Patton's arm. From about an inch and a half from his wrist to about an inch from the crease in his arm, Patton's skin was utterly covered in cuts. There wasn't so much as a sliver of skin free from a mark, to the point where it appeared to be more cut than skin.

He also saw the remnants of old cuts above and below the fresh wounds. This was not the first time this has happened.

Tightening his grip on Patton's hand, Logan reached to the counter to grab an alcohol wipe. "I apologize in advance, Patton. This is going to hurt, but I need to ensure that you do not run the risk of an infection by not cleaning the wound."

Patton nodded again, screwing his face up in anticipation and clutching both Logan's hand and the stress ball like lifelines.

"One… two… three."

Logan swiped at the skin both as quickly and as effectively as he could, all the while trying to inflict as little pain as possible.

Patton let out a strangled scream, both from the burning alcohol and the pressure on the sensitive skin.

Logan began blowing cool air in the skin, hoping to quench the fire burning in Patton's arm. He watched, pain tight in his chest, as the veins stood out in Patton's neck, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

After a moment, Patton slumped back, taking a shaky breath.

Pulling out another tube, Logan squeezed a large dollop onto his fingers. "This is an antibiotic ointment," he informed the other side. "It also has a pain reliever in it, so this should not hurt as much." Slowly, he began spreading the ointment onto Patton's skin, covering each inch of skin with a thin layer before wiping the excess onto the towel.

"Now I am going to bandage it."

He took out a roll of medical tape, securing a length to each side of Patton's arm on either side of the wounds.

"What's that for?" Patton wondered aloud 

"This is just to secure the bandage so it does not slide around. It is placed under the bandage wrap to secure it to the skin, and in a few steps, I will twist the remaining tape around to attach to the top of the bandage itself."

Patton nodded thoughtfully, relaxing slightly at the knowledge that Logan was more experienced and knowledgeable than himself. He knew he was in good hands.

Logan placed a tongue depressor to either end of the tape. "This is just so the remainder of the tape does not stick to the skin, as I will use it later to tape the bandage."

Now he took out two non-adhesive pads, placing them over the cuts. "Do not move your arm," he warned. "Those are not secured in any way and I do not want them to fall."

Reaching again to his first aid kit, he pulled out a roll of cotton gauze. He slowly wrapped around the arm, then tore the end and set the roll back on the counter.

Now he took a roll of elastic gauze to secure the cotton one. This gauze was very thin and was basically just elastic strings fashioned into a fishnet pattern. However, it did its job well, holding down the fluffy earlier and somehow sticking to itself to secure it.

Now Logan removed the tongue depressors from the tape, twisting it where it stuck out under the gauze and taping it to the top.

"Almost done," he assured Patton, who seemed to be distracted from any pain caused by Logan's actions, seeming entranced by Logan's movement, watching him with fascination.

Logan smiled slightly to himself as he procured a cohesive wrap decorated with cartoon dogs and cats.

Patton let out a gasp of excitement, his eyes lighting up for the first time that day.

Logan chuckled lightly before freezing, slowly looking up at Patton.

"Did you just-"

"No, I did not, and whatever it is that you are asking, I do not know what you mean."

"But you-"

"No, I did not."

"You did! You just laughed!"

Logan groaned. "This stays between us, agreed?" He couldn't handle the looks he would receive from the other sides if they knew he was not the stone cold person he made himself out to be.

Patton's smile widened as he held out his pinky. "I pinky promise."

On any other day, Logan would have protested such childish activities, but he conceded, figuring that it would make Patton happy, which he needed desperately right now. "Pinky promise," Logan agreed, linking his pinky with Patton's. "Now, can I finish your wrap?"

Patton nodded, a smile still lingering on his face.

"This will stick to itself so it can stay in place," he informed the moral side.

As he began wrapping the bandages, Patton cheerfully announced, "You do have a cute little laugh, y'know."

Logan blushed furiously. "I thought that we had retired that topic of conversation."

"Nope!" Patton replied, popping the P. "I'm just so gosh-darn happy that you can laugh, kiddo! You hardly ever do it, so I thought that maybe your giggle box was broken or something!" Patton continued, a giggle of his own punctuating his statement.

Logan's face burned as he muttered, "Can we please talk about something else?"

"Sure thing, but we are gonna talk about this later, kiddo!"

Logan groaned again, but continued wrapping the father side's arm.

After a moment, he continued on to the next arm, repeating the steps as Patton rambled on about seemingly unimportant topics. Logan gave input every so often as he finished cleaning and wrapping all the cuts on Patton skin. The conversation helped distract Patton, which allowed the process to speed along uninterrupted.

Once Logan finished, he packed up his supplies, placing them into the medicine cabinet and helping Patton out of the bathroom and into Logan's room, all while he chattered happily about this and that.

Sitting down on the edge of Logan's bed, Patton watched as Logan rummaged through his drawers in search of something. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and he presented a pair of thin sweatpants and a thin, breathable long sleeve shirt to Patton.

"You can wear these," Logan explained when Patton looked confused. "They are looser and less stuffy and oppressive than what you were wearing."

Patton nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course. I will also wear a similar style outfit so as not to draw unnecessary attention to the fact that you are wearing long sleeves. I will also turn the air conditioning down a few degrees so neither of us overheat."

"I really appreciate it, Logan. Thank you for…" he paused, tears welling in his eyes. "For everything."

Logan nodded, then quickly changed into the comfortable clothes before helping Patton into his. "I do wish to talk with you about this. Not immediately, however," he added, saying panic flare up in Patton's eyes again. "Just... Sometime later. As for right now, I believe breakfast is still waiting for us downstairs. Let us go and get some food before the others finish it all."

Patton gave a small smile before taking Logan's arm once again and sinking back into the kitchen.

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 23

17 Days.

It’s been 17 days since Atlanta. Since Daryl walked out of that hospital carrying Beth’s body. Since Maggie became shrouded in grief. Since Noah became part of our group.

17 days, and it feels like a lifetime or a second, depending on where I stand.

New goal. New plan. New purpose. Noah’s home, outside Richmond, Virginia. Five hundred and thirty miles from Atlanta. To me? It could be as far away as the moon or as near as the person standing next to me. Another hope. Another dream. Walls. Security.

Glenn voices his worries. Dad, ever the optimist, mentions that we can move again. And again. Michonne keeping the theme going adds that there’s always another place. Again and again.

We separate. Two groups. Dad, Glenn, Michonne, Tyrese, and Noah lead. The rest of us close but back.

We get news through walkies. Wait, we’re there. And then, it’s gone. And then, we have to cauterize the wound. Never good news. Never.

And another loss. Another goodbye. Another funeral. Tyrese this time. My protector. My companion when we’d fled the prison. And now he was gone. His strength hadn’t mattered. His convictions hadn’t made a difference. Nothing mattered. Not anymore. My tears came easily. I didn’t have to search for the pain of his loss. It was on the surface bubbling.

Dad buried him himself. He was angry by the loss. By this man who’d protected his daughters when he couldn’t. And as I watched Tyrese’s beanie placed on the cross marking his grave, I thought how horrible this world was. How futile survival seemed. And as I let my tears flow freely, I never noticed if anyone comforted me.

We’re sixty miles from DC, things have gotten desperate. On foot, with walkers circling like vultures, I almost envy my former exhaustion. We’re moving. We’re putting one foot in front of the other. Yet we seem to get nowhere.

Sasha’s pain from two losses is making her yearn for a fight. A suicidal attack, if you ask me, since we’re all dehydrating and starving. She wants to attack the circling scavengers head on, Dad wants higher ground. And as my group ponders around me, Daryl and Carol take off in search of water and food. And I can’t find energy to care about either situation.

Our walker problem gets solved by a convenient revine/overpass combo. Just like, what is that animal that tumble off cliffs en masse? I fight for the knowledge that seems to be on the tip of my dry tongue, but it doesn’t come. And Sasha ruins any type of focus I can muster by attacking the horde, forcing the rest to join her. And then Daryl’s back, rescuing my dad, once again.

Moving forward. Thirst and hunger are constant companions, more constant than the man who swears he loves me, I think. I’m terrified that I’ll fail at my one fucking purpose in thie hellscape. Keeping Judith safe has been downgraded to keeping Judith alive. Screw safety. Living is what I’ll settle for.

I hear an argument over alcohol, and I glare. And then the barking starts. And then gunfire. And now we have food. Hunger can make people do desperate things, and I’m not above them. I close my eyes, and force away the image of the collars around our dinner’s throats. Living, I remind myself, that’s what we’re striving for.

And more moving. And more. And I stop fighting the urge to disappear. Into my head, away from it all.

I get pulled away from the nothingness I’ve slipped into by the dampness of rain. And before I can fully process, we’re rushing for a barn because the storm has picked up and is raging.

As night falls, the pounding storm batters down on the roof of our shelter. Dad tells a familiar story of my great grandfather. And as the others listen, I slip away again. Inside of myself. I don’t hear or see the walkers fighting against the doors. I see and feel nothing. I hold my crying sister close, and convince myself that I am nowhere.

Morning dawns and I’ve been leaning against the wall of the barn all night. Judith cradled on my outstretched legs. And I can tell it’s over. The storm. The walkers. Gone. I survived. We survived. And that’s proof, I think, that nothing in this world makes sense.

When another stranger appears, a man named Aaron, promising hope. I wonder when door to door salesmen made a comeback. And then I shut it off again. I focus on Judith and her survival. And I wait for Dad and the others to make the plans.

He has photos. Of this magical community. Alexandria. Dad knocks him out, he’s tied up, and when he comes to, he’s asked for more intel. I listen passively. Does it matter? Whether he’s telling the truth, or leading us to another Terminus, does it matter?

Dad, Judith, and I stay in the barn since everyone else seems gung ho to check out the Disneyworld of the apocalypse. While we sit around with Aaron, Dad being clear on his threats, I hold Judith and take my place from the night before. Leaning against the wall, her cradled on my legs. I wonder what Dad sees when he looks at me. Does he see that I’m broken? Have I hid it so well that even he sees nothing? I must be, because he barely glances my way. Trusting that Judith and I are safe together. And he’s right, she’s safe with me.

She’s hungry, and fussy. So Dad crushing acorns, trying to make something that she can have to curb her tiny hunger. I help him, as our guest begs to be untied, for extra security. When the ploy doesn’t work, he offers applesauce he has in his backpack. Dad, untrusting as me, tests it first, no matter how the stranger acts insulted at the thought he would poison a baby. And Judith, having starved for too long for either Dad and I to admit, finally got something in her tummy that helped.

Our group returns with supplies. Dad wants to keep the food and not go to Alexandria, but he’s overruled. And so, as night falls, we’re on the move again. A vehicle this time, and I feel myself relax despite myself.

There are potholes. Walkers, flares, wrecks. But eventually we make it. It’s morning. I’m in the RV with Abraham and the others, and I feel panic build at this new community. What are we really driving into?

Dad’s holding Judith in his arms in front of the huge gate. We can hear children playing, and he takes my hand in his. A united front. United in front of an unknown group. Daryl takes my other hand, and I feel a little shocked at it. When was the last time we touched casually? I couldn’t remember.

We walk through the open gate and are greeted with demands to hand over our weapons. I stare at Dad, feeling completely confused by the mere thought of disarming. I hadn’t been without at least one weapon since this entire mess started, and while my bow was long retired, a knife or gun was always at my side.

Aaron, calming down a tense situation, assures us we can keep them until we meet Deanna Monroe, their leader. A woman who looks like the end of the world never happened. Clean, coifed, and dressed like a Stepford wife, I wonder what made her worthy to lead.

We each meet her one on one in her well appointed house, a video camera lurking behind her to record our interviews. Because when I take my seat, I have no doubt at all that we’re being interviewed. She begins by giving the full community brochure in detail. Eco friendly this, self sustaining that. And I listen as I take stock of what I’m seeing and not hearing. Nothing about security or training for attacks. Nothing beyond the gate and guards, who failed at their one job by not getting us to hand over our weapons. She was a politician, that’s as clear as a bell. She doesn’t seem to want to know much.

I tell her what I care to share. I’m Rick Grimes’ oldest child, his first daughter, and I take care of my baby sister and brother. I keep things running smoothly. I maintain the contentment of our group. And as I’m standing, I realize that I never mentioned Daryl. Not once.

Our weapons seem a small price to pay for the home we’re given. Dad, Carl, Judith, me, Carol, and Daryl. Cozy. My first goal, even before food or water, or anything basic need based, is to get clean. And so, Judith and I take our first shower together. I find such happiness in her amazement at the warm water flowing over us, at her giggles as the bubbles from my shampoo slide over us. And when we come out, I find that someone, Carol I assume has placed clean clothes for me on the counter, and some things for Judith as well.

Brushing my long hair after the shower, while Judith lay in the middle of the bed in the room I’d chosen, I let myself pretend that the world had been forced back into the before. That there wasn’t danger lurking all around and that we were safe. That we had a chance of a real life. In a house. With running water and appliances, and electricity. That this would work. That there wouldn’t be another screw up. And I let myself pretend that I could see it, believe in it, and feel happy about it.

[drabblesanddreams]

hey, idk if you’re currently accepting requests but imma try anyway. can u do a scenario with chuuya and his fem!s/o where mori had assigned her to a mission that requires her to stay at the ADA for a while. most prolly bc a new mutual enemy showed up in yokohama. chuuya is agitated and scared bc his gf and dazai had a long history together and they havent had a closure yet and its clear that dazai still loves her. so chuuya would have to ask for assurance from his gf. make it extra angsty! 😂

omg hi!! I loved writing this request so much so tysm for sending it in! Though im not sure its the kind of angst you were thinking of i hope you enjoy it regardless! Also super sorry for finishing it super late, hope yall enjoy!

My kofi link if you wish to support!

TW: just arguing tbh 

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: What happens when you are sent off to work beside a certain ex-mafia member who you share an unresolved history with but your currently with chuuya?

“Hat…check…gun…check…” you mutter to yourself as you recount each of the objects that you had packed for your latest mission. “So, what exactly am I missing, then?” you still feel like something was off however, like you forgot something important. You scrunch your eyebrows together in deep thought as you tried to pinpoint what exactly you were missing. You couldn’t afford to forget anything that might come of use, for this upcoming mission was of high importance.

A new group had recently arrived in Yokohama, threatening the dual existence of the ADA as well as the Port Mafia. This shared threat meant that both organizations had to work together, at least until the threat had been wiped out.

That was where you came in, you had a certain history with one of the members, a history that painted you in a good light which was exactly what the Port Mafia needed in order to establish a functioning alliance.

On the other hand, both you and Mori-san weren’t foolish enough to think that this history meant Dazai trusted you, per se. He was a complicated man with an even more complicated way of thinking who was smart enough to know that trusting someone was one of the most foolish things you could do.

But the fluttering feeling you felt in your stomach was a strong indication of just how nervous you were to be working alongside the handsome brunet once more. You knew how sly he could be with his words, how he could get deep under your skin and make you question things you were so sure about before. You wanted to bury your past in the deep end of your mind, to never resurface again and haunt you. Regardless, your fling with Dazai ended a long time ago and you were now with-

“Hey,” the sudden sound of another individuals voice breaks you out of your deep thought and you blink haphazardly. You straighten up from looking over your backpack to see Chuuya standing by the door, hand seemingly hesitantly placed on the frame, gripping it a little too tightly. He stares at you solemnly, a man just as caught in the spirals of his mind as you were.

“Hey,” your mouth curves into a smile, happy to see your boyfriend before you were due to head off, “What are you doing here?” Chuuya was required for a different part of this mission, and though you were confused to see him you wouldn’t say that you weren’t happy.

“Got you somethin’” You watch as he pulls a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You smiled warmly at him before accepting the flowers and burying your face slightly in order to inhale their sweet scent.

“You didn’t have to,” you comment, though very much happy as you temporarily place the bouquet on your bed so that you can later place them in a vase. Every day without fail he presented you with a big, bouquet of red roses. The colour as rich and passionate as the foundations of your relationship with the ginger mafia member. It was sweet, really, and never failed to make your insides flutter with affection.

“But what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to already be gone?” you question, turning around as he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly and burying his face in your neck.

“What?” he snorts before planting soft kisses onto your neck, “I can’t see my beautiful girlfriend before she leaves me for another man?” you roll your eyes at his comment, moving back to slap his chest lightly, “Haha, very funny Chuuya.”

He returns to your neck and you’re distracted momentarily as he continues his previous actions. Light sucking, sensual kissing, tender licking, pleasure fills you as you flutter your eyes shut and loll your head back, letting him have even more access to your neck.

“Say it to me then,” he murmurs, and you hum, still too lost with how good his mouth feels on your neck and how his hand was gripping your hip.

“Say what,” you whisper back, and he stops his mission of decorating the skin of your neck with his loving kisses.

“That you don’t still love him,”

You huff, “Love who?” wishing he would just go back to making you feel good.

“Dazai.”

This catches your attention and you open your eyes, moving your head back to look at him in his eyes. Even now up close, the blue of his eyes is breathtaking to you, though they are now set hard with something you can’t quite identify.

Anger? Frustration? You have no idea what it is but its setting you off slightly.

The two of you never mentioned his name, not when it included the context of your previous relationship with said man. Later in the day, you would wish that you did, after all, maybe it wouldn’t have led to the conversation that the two of you were having now.

“What?” you ask, forehead creasing in a state of confusion.

“C’mon (Y/n), I think we both know what’s going to happen when you leave,” he states icily and you blink, shaking your head as you move backwards, sneering ever so slightly, “And exactly what’s going to happen?”

He rolls his ocean blue eyes at you and you cross your arms as you wait for his answer, “I seriously have to spell it out of you? It’s not cute playing dumb anymore doll,” your eyes narrow at his words.

“What the hell’s your problem?” you asked, confused and a tad hurt by his passive behaviour. You had no idea why he was acting like this; you watch monetarily as he strides further into the room and turns away from you. You have the faintest clue though, “Is this seriously over him? How many times are you going to keep bringing this up?!” you ask in indignation

His nostrils flare as he spins back around to face you, “Yes,” he confirms and you throw your hands up in frustration, “We both know that you’re still in love with the suicidal basted.” You wince at his words, you never thought that he would throw the fact right in your face. But his next words shamelessly cause your heart to skip a beat.

“And we both know he’s still in love with you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Chuuya, unresolved history doesn’t mean that I’m still fucking in love with him!” you exclaim in pure frustration throwing your hands around as you turn away from him and sit back down to your bags on the ground.

“It does though!” he claims, jaw clenching as his voice raises to a shout, “You can honestly tell me that you feel absolutely nothing?” he snarls following you so that he can meet your scowling face. You almost want to shy away from his blazing fury. Chuuya has always been a hot-headed fool, but to take it on you over some insecurity…

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to do Chuuya?!?” you yell, throwing a piece of clothing at him as you stand back up, “What, do you want me to just quit the mission? Maybe move to another city so I never have to see him?” your eyes spark with fury as you continue, “O-or no, you know what? Why don’t I just move to another fucking planet huh?!” you scream.

“I knew I it, I knew you still had feelings,” he shouts back, knocking back his hat slightly so that he can run his hands through the orange strands. You shake your head in disbelief, “But I’m with you because I love you!” you cry out and he stares at you from underneath a heated gaze.

“You seriously have no trust in me? After everything?” you ask, as you stared at him in confusion. You didn’t understand how he could react to you in that way, how he could question everything the both of you went through.

A moment of silence finally overtakes the both of you and you stare at him, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath.

His gaze darkens, his voice dropping to a low tone, “Yes.”

You flinch at that, eyes welling up pitifully as if he physically assaulted you. You try blinking it away to no avail and instead glare at him hatefully, letting the tears well up as the hot white-anger fill you to the core. All you want is to claw at him, to see him bleed and wail as pitifully as you feel right now.

The only sign betraying the resolute anger you felt was the quiver in your bottom lip. Your breath hitches as you slightly nod in resolution, “Get out,” you whisper.

He stays put, however, and instead fixes you with a hard glare.

“Get out!” You shout furiously, reaching for the bouquet of flowers on the bed and hurling them in his direction, the tears finally spilling down your face, “And take your stupid flowers with you!”

And he did. Leaving you behind with a broken heart and a hollow feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time.

[thechildoflightning]

Tectonic Plates- Ch3

Title: Tectonic Plates [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: None

~~~

Chapter Title: Transform

Summary: 

Everything over the past few weeks comes together

Warnings: Memory Loss, Borderline Passive Suicidal Thoughts, Tics, Chronic Pain, Gender Dysphoria, Deadnaming, Fatphobia, Ableism

<strong> TW: Memory Loss, Borderline Passive Suicidal Thoughts, Tics, Chronic Pain, Gender Dysphoria, Deadnaming, Fatphobia, Ableism </strong>

I don’t currently have the spoons for in depth tws at the end of the chapter rn, so message me if you have any questions about tws

[ao3 link]

~~~

Chapter Three: Transform

Patton wakes to searing pain that courses through his entire body, pain strong enough that it makes his breathing hitch and stomach curl with nausea. He squeezes his eyes tight as if that would do anything to help. Maybe this is all a bad dream he’ll wake up from. He’s not hopeful. He doesn’t dare risk moving, the fire in his body so unbearable that Patton doesn’t risk doing anything. He takes small shallow breaths and wishes for it to be over.

He fades in and out of consciousness. He’s not sure if thats due to pain or exhaustion. He remembers glancing over at his clock at one point and finding it significantly early, though Patton can’t remember what time it read. He doesn’t know if he forgot from pain, or if it’s just his memory failing him once more.

He wants to cry, but he doesn’t risk it because heavy loud crying will make his body shake and that will just make everything worse.

He briefly wishes he had no bones, just a puddle of human goop that doesn’t ache, before realizing that would only help so much. A lot of the pain is in his joints, but it’s also in his nerves and getting rid of bones wouldn’t help that any.

So maybe he gets rid of his bones and nerves.

He wouldn’t feel anything that way.

He could go back to sleep forever without pain.

He almost wishes for it.

Almost.

He’s not quite sure what stops him.

He floats in a haze, not quite awake, not quite asleep. Tiredness seeps into his body, dragging him to sleep, and the pain fights it, demanding Patton’s awake to feel the torture it performs on him.

His alarm goes off at some point, and he barely pays any notice to it. He’s in too much pain to think of anything but the pain, and thinking of the pain makes it worse. It’s a vicious terrible cycle, so terrible, that Patton doesn’t even notice that his door has been pushed open until his ma is settling at his side.

“Hi honey,” she whispers soothingly.

“Hi,” he croaks out, the single word taking more energy than expected.

His ma looks at him and she radiates love so strongly that Patton just wants to curl up in her arms and break down crying. But both of those actions will cause him to hurt more, so he settles for lying on his bed, head facing his mother, pushing back tears.

“I… I don’t think I can go to school today,” he says.

“That’s okay,” his ma dismisses immediately and Patton breathes a small sigh of relief. He never thinks that his parents would make him go- knows they understand, knows they wouldn’t push it. But well- he gets worried sometimes. He misses a lot of school, he takes a lot of energy to care. He knows his moms love him but he can’t help worry about his place in their lives occasionally.

“Do you need anything?”

“Heat,” Patton replies immediately, “And meds too please. And… and can I get some water? Is that okay?”

“Of course hon,” she soothes, “You are going to have to eat something with the pain meds though.”

Patton knows that. He knows that he doesn’t want to because eating takes so much effort and his stomach is already swirling in displeasure.

“Okay,” he says.

“Can you rate the pain? And tell me where it hurts?”

“9,” he says, “and everywhere. It hurts everywhere.”

“Okay. If you can’t, that’s okay, but can you try to be a bit more specific?”

My legs, hips, back, neck, shoulders,” he says, “Back especially. All along it.”

“Do we need to go to the ER?” is her next question.

Patton’s in enough pain that he considers it for a minute. It’s always a challenge debating on what he does and doesn’t need, when the pain is enough to warrant medicine, hospital admittance, and anything else.

“No. Not yet,” he settles on, but keeps it as an option. His meds don’t take away the pain entirely, but they do work decently well. Hopefully with the assistance his body will stop torturing him.

“Okay. Do you want me to stay? I can ask your Mom to get everything.”

“Can you?” he asks hopefully, not wanting to let her go.

“Of course,” she says, pulling out her phone to call his Mom and explain what’s going. She finishes quickly and turns her attention back to Patton.

“Can I hold your hand?” she asks.

“Yes. DOn’t touch my shoulder.”

She nods easily and carefully takes his hand in hers, smoothing over the back of his palm with her thumb. He gets heat, meds, water, and chokes down a little bit of food. It’s a slow, painful process. But the heat and meds help enough that Patton slowly drifts off once more.

-

He wakes to an empty room. He takes observance of his body, feeling out where it does and doesn’t hurt. It’s still flaring brightly with pain, so hot it burns. But it has subsided somewhat from a torturous pain to a heavy, burning violence. 

His back aches and he reaches for his phone at his bedside table, shooting off a quick text to his moms.

A moment later his door opens, and Blythe is slipping into his room, TENS unit in hand.

“Ma is picking Liam and- tehch- Dani up from school, Mom’s at work,” she explains their absence as she approaches Patton’s bed, “Do you know- hu- the intensity, frequency, and- hu hu HU- and the duration and all that? Because I don’t but I’m sure Moms have it. I can ask them.”

“It’s in my notebook,” Patton says, “but it can also really vary.”

“Okay,” Blythe agrees, walking over to his desk to grab the blue notebook and flipping to the pages about pain treatment- specifically for the electrical nerve stimulation the TENS unit will provide.

“Let’s just start with what it says in there and then I can adjust it,” Patton tells her.

“ACK- sounds good,” she agrees, finding the page. She picks up the notebook, before immediately throwing it with a tic.

“Yeet,” Patton mutters as she picks it up, rolling her eyes at Patton’s commentary.

She comes back over to Patton’s bed.

“Okay,” she says finally, “You’re going to have to turn- tehch- over.”

“I know,” Patton says miserably, not moving.

He breathes a few times.

“Help me?” he requests.

Blythe nods and sets down the notebook and TENS unit.

“What do you want me to do?” she says.

“Help shift my hips when I turn,” he instructs.

Blythe nods and begins the painful process of flipping to his stomach. He wants to go fast to get this over with, but he also wants to move slowly and carefully. It’s a balancing act- and Patton’s balance is notoriously awful.

They get there eventually, Patton gritting through the pain.

Blythe helps with attaching the electrodes to his back and then the TENS is switched on, providing welcome relief.

“Hey, wanna watch a show with me?” Blythe asks, once Patton’s settled for a minute.

“Sure,” Patto agrees, welcoming an easy distraction.

“Okay, I’ll go- ACK hu-  grab my computer,” she tells him, “Don’t move.”

Patton snorts, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She gives him a look and races out of his room.

-

The next day is better, but that isn’t saying too much. It’s a glass half full, half empty sort of situation. Patton can get out of bed, can even get to school, but his body still thrums in pain. But he gets through, and it’s not too bad even though it hurts and Patton- well he doesn’t quite count it as a win but it’s certainly not a loss. 

He isn’t binding because there’s no way he’d put his binder on right now with his current back issues, but it does mean he gets misgendered more which sucks. The dysphoria creeps back in and more people deadname him and Patton wants to transition so bad, but right now he’s just stuck.

He’s ready to go home.

Luckily enough, his last class of the day rolls around.

Unluckily enough, the teacher announces they will continue working on their group project.

Shit, Patton forgot about that.

His group shuffles together, and Patton sighs in grits his teeth as he joins them. Part of it is from pain, part is from annoyance with the project in general.

“Okay,” one of the girls said, “Can everyone get their stuff out? To see where we all are?”

Patton forgets her name, but does remember she’s been consistently rude to him and unwilling to listen when he’s explained his accommodations.

The group starts pulling out computers and papers. Patton himself only pulls out one measly paper of a short outline. It’s all he has done so far. The girl’s gaze turns angrily towards him when she realizes that all he has, and Patton sinks in his seat. His other two teammates look at him in pity, but don’t jump in to help.

“That’s all you have?” she asks.

“Yes,” Patton mumbles.

“Eileen! This project is due next week.”

“M’ name is Patton.”

“Okay- Patton, whatever. This project is due in a week and you’ve barely started! We’re being graded as a group here. And I need an A in this class. I get that you don’t care about school or are trying to sabotage the group because you don’t like me or- or whatever, but it doesn’t matter. You need to do your work. Stop slacking off and get it together. By the due date.”

It’s been a long day, a long week, a long year.

Patton’s so goddamn tired and his spoons are running low and he doesn’t want to deal with this stupid project or this stupid partner of his who’s name he doesn’t even remember. Patton’s trying okay? He’s been trying so damn hard, so damn hard for everyone. Being disabled isn’t easy, and people act as if it makes it so hard for their lives, but how do they think Patton feels?

He’s the one with the memory that doesn’t work, with the body that acts constantly, with being scorned for being overweight, who’s judged for using a mobility aid, and who everyone thinks is faking. Patton’s the one dealing with this, not them. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

Tears prick in the corner of his eyes.

He can’t cry. He can’t. There’s no way they’ll take him seriously then and they’ll probably call him a girl and-

“I told you at the beginning,” he says, voice shaky but loud, “That we got three extra weeks.”

“Yeah!” she says, “If we need it. And we’re probably going to need it now because you can’t do one stupid assignment. But taking extra time is failing.”

“I do need it,” Patton snaps, and he’s loud enough that he gains the attention of some of the groups near them. “I’ve always needed it. That’s why it’s given to me. Maybe you don’t, that’s fine. But I do.”

“I don’t get why you can’t just do it?” she argues back, “Are you just fine with failure?”

“Yeah,” Patton says, “Yeah I am fine with failure. I fail all the fucking time. Life is a series of failures when you’re disabled and it sucks. Do you think I want to be in pain? Do you think I like forgetting almost everything? Do you think I enjoy struggling to keep up in a project with some annoying ableist teammate who’s not listening to me? No. I don’t. It sucks. But this time- this time I’m not failing. I’m demanding the time I need, and that’s not failure, that’s success.”

“You shouldn’t need to push for extra time,” she says.

Patton laughs, effectively gaining the rest of the class’s attention as they all tune in on their argument.

“You know what” he says, “You know what, for once you’re right. I shouldn’t have to push for extra time. I should be able to just tell you I need three extra weeks and you should accept that. I shouldn’t have to push for accommodations, that shouldn’t be my responsibility. The world is ableist and it sucks, so it’s either push for accommodations or let myself suffer. It just depends on how much energy I have.”

“Look I get that you’re disabled or whatever,” she snaps, “But it’s pretty hard to work with you when you demand extra time without even telling us why. You should at least share with us about how you’re disabled.”

“Share with you?” Patton asks incredulously, “Share with you? It’s my disability, I can share whatever I damn well please. It’s up to me and only me what I disclose and you-”

Patton forgets the rest of the argument, coming back with a rush as he takes a bite of his chicken, and stares across the table at his family at dinner.

Once he realizes what happened, he springs up from his chair. His hips and back shriek in protesting and he almost falls over. He catches himself on the table, hand clutching the wood, before racing off to his room, tears streaming down his face. He ignores the worried calls from behind him.

He crashes onto his bed and dives under the covers, wrapping them firmly around him even as he continues to sob. Seconds later and his moms enter the room. His ma crouches by his bed and his mom sets his cane against the bed stand table before joining him.

“Darling,” his mom whispers, “What’s wrong?”

Patton shudders through the tears and wonders how to respond.

“We have a group project in school,” he starts.

“Okay,” his ma says, taking his hand to rub soothingly.

“And- and there’s this girl and she won’t listen to me about my accommodations and it sucks because I can’t meet the normal time but I also don’t have the energy to push for my accommodations and it’s- I don’t want to push for extra time I just want her to be okay with it. And she’s been really rude and I yelled at her today and the whole class was paying attention and I don’t even remember what the end result was because I forgot and I-” he sighs, tears slowing, “I just hate it,” he sighs, “Like I’m disabled. For life. Some things might get better, some might get worse. Okay. I can deal with that. I’ve been dealing with it all my life. It can suck at times and be hard, but I mean- I don’t remember when I wasn’t disabled, I was a baby. It’s part of my life. But it’s just-”

Patton breaks out in a fresh wave of tears, pausing for a minute while he sobs.

“It’s just that I have- I have to prove it everywhere I go. I have to push to get my minimum needs met and nobody understands and nobody listens and it sucks and I don’t know if that’s ever going to improve and I hate it. And it- I even worry about you guys. Cause like- I know you love me. I know that, okay? But when I see how everyone else refuses to even meet the bare minimum of my needs and the two of you being the best moms I could have ever asked for, I start to wonder if it’s too much, y’know? Like if I’m too much.”

“Patton-”

“And it’s like, I know that's stupuid. I know that’s the internalized ableism talking, that I do deserve you and I deserve my needs being met. I know that. It’s just hard to remember when there’s so much external ableism pressing down hard on me. Y’know? And that- that sucks. And it’s- it’s been a rough few weeks and I do not have the spoons to deal with this.”

“We love you,” his mom says.

“Yes, we love you very much,” his ma says.

“I know,” Patton says, “I know. I love you too.”

He sniffles and wipes at his nose.

“Can we do anything to support you?” his ma asks.

Patton shrugs, and it pulls at his back painfully. He relaxes his shoulders.

“I don't know,” he admits, “I do feel a bit better now.”

“Sometimes we just need to get it all out,” his ma agrees.

Pat nods.

“I’m tired,” he admits after awhile. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. Worry about the project tomorrow. Thank you. Love you.”

“We love you too,” his moms say together, his mom setting a kiss on his forehead and his ma with a kiss on his hand and Patton feels so intensely, purely, loved.

He turns in his part of the project four weeks later, on the extended date he was given. The girl who’s been on his case scowls at him as he turns it in, and he ignores her. The teacher accepts the project without complaint, only stopping Patton briefly to ask if the time was enough.

“Yes,” Patton says, “Yes it was.”

The girl’s still mad at him. Patton’s going to continue to face endless ableism. It sucks. It’s going to suck. But he has his family, and he has their support and he’s just going to keep stumbling forward because really, what other choice does he have?

And maybe along the way, the world will slowly change into a place Patton no longer has to demand to be accommodated.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo @gattonero17

[fangirlfromdownunder]

Free! Match-Up Request

Name: Corethra (or Corey for short)

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Hand Packer at an ice cream factory

Zodiac Sign: Pisces (born March 2)

Chinese Zodiac: Year Of The Pig

MBTI Type: INFJ

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Love Language: Acts Of Service

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 4'11 (Call me short and I’ll kick your butt!)

Body Type/Shape: Average but well developed figure at best. I weigh about 158 lbs and am pretty insecure about my body.

Hair Color/Style: Black and naturally curly but I keep it relaxed and flat-ironed so it’s straight. It’s long and goes down to just below my shoulder blades.

Glasses or No?: Yes I wear glasses

Eye Color: Brown

Dress Style: I usually dress up in a casual way, just throwing on whatever looks good at the time but I will sometimes put in the effort when the time calls for it or when I’m in a good mood. I have an affinity for the punk, emo, and goth styles and I rarely wear feminine clothes.

Hobbies/Interests: Video games, reading, writing, anime, internet surfing, listening to music, politics (sometimes), watching movies/TV shows, basically being an overall nerd

Dislikes: Ignorance, stupidity, restriction, manipulation/gas-lighting, bullying, humanity, not being understood

Personality: At first glance, I seem quiet and keep to myself, only speaking when I need to or when I’m spoken to. I’m an anti-social introvert to the fullest and don’t care much for small talk or going out. I prefer to have deeper conversations. When I get comfortable enough in whatever environment I’m in, I start to open up bit by bit. I’m a tomboy and pretty rough-minded as well as stubborn. I’m very sassy, have a smart, sarcastic, and witty mouth if not humorous and outrageous at times, can be borderline rude, and I’m more sensitive than I care to be. I can literally cry at someone’s suffering especially if it’s someone I’m close to or even a total stranger. I’m very empathetic and my heart is bigger than what most people would expect. Most people describe me as quiet, intelligent, creative, dorky, a smartass, and really sweet. I love a good laugh and have an open sense of humor to boot.

Many of my friends say that I’m very sweet and kind which I usually am if I’m in a good mood as well as affectionate as hell. Hugs and pet names galore with me! However only my friends and family see that side of me. My language is often unfiltered, harsh, foul, and blunt which shocks people because they think I’m a pure angel. I say what I want when I want and no one tells me otherwise. If they do, they can expect a mouthful from me. I’m an escapist and very imaginative, can be a bit scatterbrained at times, and I’m methodical and detailed to the point of perfectionism. I’m usually a walking contradiction in terms of personality in so many ways to the point where the real me is almost impossible to decipher. To make matters more complicated, I’m not very good at expressing myself verbally and prefer to let my actions do the talking.

I have many pet peeves and I get annoyed easily in general. I’m also slowly embracing misanthropy and nihilism but I can be pretty idealistic so it balances out. I’m practically zero tolerance when it comes to bullshit. I hate confrontation and conflict but I’m starting to work on it so I can be less passive-aggressive and more assertive. I also wish to stand up for myself more often than I should so people won’t think that I’m weak and an easy target. I’m pretty cynical which is to be expected and usually expect the worst from people. When someone angers me, I will either just withdraw altogether and completely cut them off (slam the door basically) or get in their face and go off before doing the former. I’m the “hold my anger in and release it all at once” type but I hope to change that one day and stop letting things fester before they get out of hand. I can be quite petty and even cold as well and if someone wrongs me, they will have to make the first move to mend fences. I refuse to apologize if I’m not in the wrong and I will not accept gaslighting/guilt tripping.

I have issues with trust and a wild imagination to boot. I usually trust my instincts and can see right through bullshit. I don’t like taking risks and I have to know all the details when I do something so I don’t mess up and look like an idiot. I am indeed a perfectionist to a fault which often prevents me from trying new things and going outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been in a relationship yet and am still a virgin due to my issues with trust and not wanting to be hurt or humiliated as well as being picky/perfectionistic with the people I allow in my life. I have high standards for both people and myself although I’m pretty laid-back and my dislike of conflict allows me to also take a lot of shit from people too before I eventually say “fuck it” and slam the door on them. I don’t think very highly of myself and can sometimes fall into a period of self-hatred.

Many people praise me for my intelligence which is fitting since I’m an intellectual. My ideals and beliefs are rather odd to say the least (I’m a classical liberal/independent and despise most ideologies/ideas. This includes religion, feminism, social justice, traditionalism, statism, big government, nationalism, socialism/communism, etc.) and I feel misunderstood because of it (mostly because of the black community ostracizing me). I am indeed a rebel, open-minded, and a free thinker. No one tells me how to think or feel or else they face my wrath. I highly value power over myself and I think it’s the most important thing that a person needs in order to survive. I am definitely an outcast at heart and I often distance myself from others and don’t like talking about my feelings or beliefs because I think most people lack the ability/capacity to understand me. Before I give my opinion on something, I like to do as much research as possible as well as look at things from all perspectives before coming to my own conclusion. I don’t mind discussing things but I prefer logic over emotion when doing so which makes it damn near impossible these days for me to have an real conversation without insults and threats being thrown (usually towards me). Chances are I’m gonna find something wrong with damn near anything someone believes in or says and I’m not afraid to call it out when I see it. Once I do open up and express how I feel, the gates of passion will open up and never close. I also have high morals and values and stick to my guns no matter what which can make me pretty stubborn at times.

I’m currently battling depression and often experience many symptoms of it including suicidal thoughts and depression spells. I also suffer from iron-deficiency anemia as well. These things are pretty annoying for me to deal with whenever they flare up. 

Overall, I’m pretty crazy and a handful to deal with. Good luck matching me up with someone :P

***

Okay! Lot of info but let’s see here. I think out of all the guys, Rin matches you the best. He’s a bit of a hothead but super supportive at the end of the day.

Headcanons:

He might not call you short but he will use you as an arm rest. 

He might also steal your glasses just to mess with you. It’s all in fun, if you asked he’d give them back but holding them out of reach is just too much fun for him

He’s smarter than he lets on. Sure he’s no genius but he can hold a conversation well and knows what he’s passionate about. So a good conversation is a fine way to spend the time

He’s incredibly supportive of every dream you have and will cheer you on from right beside you. Or from the sidelines, if he can’t be by your side

His love language is also the same as yours, making you an excellent match

[misc-headcanons]

Bleach and One Piece Match-Up Request

Name: Corethra (or Corey for short)

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Hand Packer at an ice cream factory

Zodiac Sign: Pisces (born March 2)

Chinese Zodiac: Year Of The Pig

MBTI Type: INFJ

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Love Language: Acts Of Service

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 4'11 (Call me short and I’ll kick your butt!)

Body Type/Shape: Average but well developed figure at best. I weigh about 158 lbs and am pretty insecure about my body.

Hair Color/Style: Black and naturally curly but I keep it relaxed and flat-ironed so it’s straight. It’s long and goes down to just below my shoulder blades.

Glasses or No?: Yes I wear glasses

Eye Color: Brown

Dress Style: I usually dress up in a casual way, just throwing on whatever looks good at the time but I will sometimes put in the effort when the time calls for it or when I’m in a good mood. I have an affinity for the punk, emo, and goth styles and I don’t like feminine clothes.

Hobbies/Interests: Video games, reading, writing, anime, internet surfing, listening to music, politics (sometimes), watching movies/TV shows, basically being an overall nerd

Dislikes: Ignorance, stupidity, restriction, manipulation/gas-lighting, bullying, humanity, not being understood

Personality: At first glance, I seem quiet and keep to myself, only speaking when I need to or when I’m spoken to. I’m an anti-social introvert to the fullest and don’t care much for small talk or going out. I prefer to have deeper conversations. When I get comfortable enough in whatever environment I’m in, I start to open up bit by bit. I’m a tomboy and pretty rough-minded as well as stubborn. I’m very sassy, have a smart, sarcastic, and witty mouth if not humorous and outrageous at times, can be borderline rude, and I’m more sensitive than I care to be. I can literally cry at someone’s suffering especially if it’s someone I’m close to or even a total stranger. I’m very empathetic and my heart is bigger than what most people would expect. Most people describe me as quiet, intelligent, creative, dorky, a smartass, and really sweet. I love a good laugh and have an open sense of humor to boot.

Many of my friends say that I’m very sweet and kind which I usually am if I’m in a good mood as well as affectionate as hell. Hugs and pet names galore with me! However only my friends and family see that side of me. My language is often unfiltered, harsh, foul, and blunt which shocks people because they think I’m a pure angel. I say what I want when I want and no one tells me otherwise. If they do, they can expect a mouthful from me. I’m an escapist and very imaginative, can be a bit scatterbrained at times, and I’m methodical and detailed to the point of perfectionism. I’m usually a walking contradiction in terms of personality in so many ways to the point where the real me is almost impossible to decipher. To make matters more complicated, I’m not very good at expressing myself verbally and prefer to let my actions do the talking.

I have many pet peeves and I get annoyed easily in general. I’m also slowly embracing misanthropy and nihilism but I can be pretty idealistic so it balances out. I’m practically zero tolerance when it comes to bullshit. I hate confrontation and conflict but I’m starting to work on it so I can be less passive-aggressive and more assertive. I also wish to stand up for myself more often than I should so people won’t think that I’m weak and an easy target. I’m pretty cynical which is to be expected and usually expect the worst from people. When someone angers me, I will either just withdraw altogether and completely cut them off (slam the door basically) or get in their face and go off before doing the former. I’m the “hold my anger in and release it all at once” type but I hope to change that one day and stop letting things fester before they get out of hand. I can be quite petty and even cold as well and if someone wrongs me, they will have to make the first move to mend fences. I refuse to apologize if I’m not in the wrong and I will not accept gaslighting/guilt tripping.

I have issues with trust and a wild imagination to boot. I usually trust my instincts and can see right through bullshit. I don’t like taking risks and I have to know all the details when I do something so I don’t mess up and look like an idiot. I am indeed a perfectionist to a fault which often prevents me from trying new things and going outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been in a relationship yet and am still a virgin due to my issues with trust and not wanting to be hurt or humiliated as well as being picky/perfectionistic with the people I allow in my life. I have high standards for both people and myself although I’m pretty laid-back and my dislike of conflict allows me to also take a lot of shit from people too before I eventually say “fuck it” and slam the door on them. I don’t think very highly of myself and can sometimes fall into a period of self-hatred.

Many people praise me for my intelligence which is fitting since I’m an intellectual. My ideals and beliefs are rather odd to say the least (I’m a classical liberal/independent and despise most ideologies/ideas. This includes religion, feminism, social justice, traditionalism, statism, big government, nationalism, socialism/communism, etc.) and I feel misunderstood because of it (mostly because of the black community ostracizing me). I am indeed a rebel, open-minded, and a free thinker. No one tells me how to think or feel or else they face my wrath. I highly value power over myself and I think it’s the most important thing that a person needs in order to survive. I am definitely an outcast at heart and I often distance myself from others and don’t like talking about my feelings or beliefs because I think most people lack the ability/capacity to understand me. Before I give my opinion on something, I like to do as much research as possible as well as look at things from all perspectives before coming to my own conclusion. I don’t mind discussing things but I prefer logic over emotion when doing so which makes it damn near impossible these days for me to have an real conversation without insults and threats being thrown (usually towards me). Chances are I’m gonna find something wrong with damn near anything someone believes in or says and I’m not afraid to call it out when I see it. Once I do open up and express how I feel, the gates of passion will open up and never close.

I’m currently battling depression and often experience many symptoms of it including suicidal thoughts and depression spells. I also suffer from iron-deficiency anemia as well. These things are pretty annoying and humiliating for me to deal with whenever they pop up. 

Overall, I’m pretty crazy and a handful to deal with. Good luck matching me up with someone :P

(I’m happy you gave me so much info to work with!) 

Nothing says punk or goth like skulls, right? I played around with some other accessories like a choker necklace and some earrings, but since you mentioned you don’t like feminine clothing I just went with the good ol’ leather jacket)

For Bleach, I match you with....Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!

You mentioned you were a Pisces, and I like to take zodiacs/birthdays into account when they’re provided in matchups. Grimmjow’s a Leo, and from what I read, Leos and Pisces bring out a lot of great qualities within each other; the more I thought about it, the more I think that holds true. Like Grimmjow, you aren’t ever afraid to speak your mind, you’re both ambitious (I think Grimmjow would be a Slytherin too!) and are both rebels in your own right. The both of you also prefer to let your actions do the talking, and I think he would appreciate a partner who he can trust to speak their mind and not hide anything they’re feeling just to be nice. I think that Grimmjow would be able to help you be more assertive and less passive-aggressive, which you mentioned in your submission, and you would be able to get him to calm down and think things through before flying off the handle and beating the shit out of whoever or whatever is pissing him off. 

You mentioned that you were slowly starting to embrace nihilism and misanthropy (and I feel that Grimmjow post-defeat by Nnoitora would share similar thoughts about his life’s meaning at the time. Dude just got his shit wrecked and his dreams of being the strongest/the King just got shot down by Nnoitora’s sword slicing him through the chest), but I think your optimism would not only balance out your perspective on life, but his as well. To “fix” your partner’s views/negative outlook on life shouldn’t be up to you (he’s his own person, and asking that much emotional labor of someone would be inappropriate, even if he does love you), but I think whenever you talk about your life philosophy, he’d slowly start to realize that you can find a balance between “nothing fucking matters, why bother” and “nothing fucking matters, so why not?”

Leo men are somewhat protective of their partners, so Grimmjow is always there if you’re in need of emotional or physical help. Fatigue from your anemia? He’ll straight up carry you where you need to go if he has to. Is your depression causing you to go into a downswing? He’ll keep an eye on you and do whatever it takes to lessen the weight on your shoulders/mind. Sometimes he’ll do things too comfort you without considering how you’d react (you mentioned that things get annoying and humiliating whenever your symptoms flare up like this, so having Grimmjow do something like picking you up and carry would...not be great, to say the least), but if you tell him why doing things like that upsets you he’ll try to stop and consider your feelings the next time something like that happens again. There’ll be a few instances like that where he’ll say or do something without considering how you’d react, because he’s used to being an egocentric guy (being a creature like an Arrancar, where you can only survive if you look out for yourself and ONLY yourself, makes this a difficult thing for him to change. But for you, he’ll try). This would be the main issue in your relationship, but as time goes on he’s more and more considerate of you the longer he’s with you. He has given you a cake with the (poorly) handwritten icing message “Sorry I was an asshole” more than once.

In conclusion, I  think that you two would be a great example of two people who seem like total opposites finding common ground/traits/strengths/weaknesses and really complementing each other in a relationship.

 For One Piece, I match you with...Zoro!

So, let’s start with zodiac compatibility. Zoro is a Scorpio, which is one of the better matches for Pisces according to what I looked up. Scorpio men and Pisces women share a lot of emotional depth, and that sort of conflicting nature/personality you have is something that Zoro can relate to. Like you, Zoro also tends to let his actions speak louder than words (especially since he isn’t the most talkative guy). A relationship with him would involve a lot of small kind gestures that let you know he cares about you. Even though he’s not one to talk a lot, he listens to anything you have to say and is a great person to vent to. 

He may not be as well versed in intellectual subjects as you (social justice, politics, religion, etc.) but he keeps track of what you have to say about a particular topic. Sometimes he worries that his lack of response makes you think he’s not interested in what you’re talking about, but in reality he’s paying attention to every word; every time you talk about something he doesn’t know, he writes it down so he can either ask Robin about it or read about it himself. He doesn’t try to become an expert or anything, but he learns enough to try and form his own thoughts based on what you’ve said and what he’s looked up. His responses aren’t super eloquent, but he’s able to put things together (Normally if you asked him about the World Government he’d describe it as just “bad…” but once he learns about concepts like totalitarianism from you, he can talk about it in more depth).

Like you, Zoro is incredibly blunt and he appreciates having a partner who also speaks their mind regardless of who they’re talking to. Unlike you, he’s not as imaginative and scatterbrained, but I think this would be a case of opposites complementing each other; he likes how creative you are, and sometimes when he’s making a decision he wonders what you’d do. Like Grimmjow, Zoro would absolutely help you with asserting yourself but unlike Grimmjow he’s more considerate of how you’d react to what he does; he’s respectful of your boundaries, and if he sees that you just need to walk away from whoever’s pissing you off he doesn’t force you to confront them. He’s considerate, in his own Zoro-ish way; like he’ll quietly ask you if you want him to kick someone’s ass if you weren’t wanting to argue with them/escalate things further. 

Zoro struggles with some aspects of his mental health, and that includes depression. Once you two have been together for a while, he can tell when you’re starting to enter a downswing/darker period. He doesn’t want to embarrass you by constantly smothering you/asking if you need anything, and he reassures you that there’s no shame in asking for help if you need it. Like you, he’s also not fond of expressing how he’s feeling, but he doesn’t want you to feel alone if you’re suffering. 

[gynandromorph]

beesbeesbees replied to your post: anger problems are possibly what i consider my...

it can flare up inappropriately i think due to the sheer measure of mistreatment abuse victims have endured so they have a lot of those feelings of being wronged built up that manifest randomly, and become a maladaptive coping mechanism if you purposely keep getting angry just because it feels good, but in general i think the amount of demonizing of anger is just really like, bad and inappropriate especially when you compare an abuse victim to their abuser!!!!!

i know motive isn’t everything and ‘but i was hurt’ is not an excuse to be angry at someone who doesn’t deserve it, but i think for one’s personal guilt it helps to think about like, WHY you’re angry and compare it to why abusers get angry. my father gets angry because he’s stressed and losing control over a situation and takes it out on others. i get angry because i am hurt and feel like i am not being heard. etc. sorry for the tangent

i agree and maybe i’m being too naive but i feel like even in the case of abuse victims who take their anger out on others is often left vague solely because it draws a circle around say, habitually logging onto twitter to report people because you’re angry and punching somebody in real life. not saying you were doing this, but i feel like there is the expectation that if you provide ANY kind of forgiveness for yourself for feeling anger, you need to say when you personally think it jumps from acceptable anger versus Abuse, and it simply doesn’t happen that way. many small boundaries are breached calmly before reaching the level of what most people consider obvious abuse (screaming, hitting, etc.) even genuine random acts of violence from strangers are usually preceded by many smaller microaggressions that should raise concern and are left unchecked.

which is probably the most frustrating part to me. anger is what will defend me in the most immediately threatening situations, and the reaction has definitely overextended to not immediately threatening situations, but very frequently it’s contextualized as overreacting and maladaptive when it isn’t. i can’t count how many times i’ve been talked down out of a defensive reaction when it was actually appropriate for me to some extremely subtle cues that the dynamic was dangerous for me. it’s frustrating that threatening suicide to control a partner is never “taking your sadness out on someone else” or making someone feel worse intentionally by passive-aggressive telling them they’re ruining your good time isn’t “taking your happiness out on someone else” but when it’s anger it’s automatically scrutinized in such a specific way.

this is basically another tangent but basically i’ve hit a point where i’ve learned that i will tolerate buckets of anger from other people, in the form of cumulative microaggressions from friends to overt physical harm, and i think that the position that it’s not somebody’s job to be your punching bag or whatever automatically jumps to assuming it’s on the level of the latter when the former is a very common occurrence in normal interactions while still being anger. i’ve realized i can tell a friend very kindly but bluntly that they were being a little mean to me and still acknowledge their feelings knowing they were just having a really bad day (because that’s what a mature and good friend does instead of holding every perceived slight against you) and then i’ve noticed when i try to extend that forgiveness to myself and expect somebody to be gentle with me on my bad days as reciprocation even if my first reaction is anger it’s like “that specifically is bad, actually”

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke: House of Cards

In which Anders blows the Chantry, Hawke is like “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING”, and Fenris has Had Enough Of Anders’s Shit™.  

This is the final chapter of A Tantrum and A Know-It-All Grin! It’s a suuuuper long one (~13k words), so only an excerpt here. Read the whole thing on AO3. 

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

Fenris couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t move his hand. Hawke was clutching it too tightly.

He gaped stupidly at the expanding cloud of debris over the exploded Chantry. Then Hawke released his hand and punched Anders in the arm. “Is this why you made me distract the Grand Cleric?” she hissed.

Sebastian looked up from his desperate prayers. “You knew about this?” he yelled. He sounded absolutely furious. Fenris hadn’t heard him sounding this angry since… well, possibly ever.

Hawke glared at the irate archer. “Do I look like I knew anything about this?” she demanded. She punched Anders in the arm again. “What in Andraste’s glorious tits were you thinking?”

Anders passively took her punches. “I removed the chance of compromise, because there is no compromise,” he said.

“The Grand Cleric, slain by magic,” Meredith said slowly. Then she straightened her shoulders. “As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately.”

Hawke grabbed Fenris’s arm, and he tensed at the bite of her fingers. “Oh fuck,” she breathed.

“The Circle didn’t even do this!” Orsino cried. He turned to Hawke in desperation. “Champion, you can’t let her. Help us stop this madness!”

Sebastian jabbed a finger at Anders. “Why are we debating the Right of Annulment when the monster who did this is standing right in front of us?” he yelled. “I swear to you, I will kill him!”

“Sebastian,” Hawke said sharply, but Anders simply shrugged. “If the choice is between a quick death now or a slow one later, I’d rather die fighting.”

“Well, you may just get your wish,” Hawke drawled. Her fingernails were biting into Fenris’s bicep so sharply that it hurt. “These Templars don’t look very happy. I’m fairly sure your little stunt here isn’t going to make us any friends.”

“Did the mages ever really have any friends, Hawke?” Anders said. “Think about everything we’ve seen these past few years, and you’ll see I’m right.”

Despite the fervency of his words, his manner and tone were calm - infuriatingly calm. All of a sudden, Fenris snapped.

He took an angry step toward Anders. “You may be ready to die, but the rest of us are not,” he spat. “You are taking all of us down with you for your misguided cause!”

Anders lifted his chin. “Perhaps it’s time you knew what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself,” he retorted.

Fenris snarled, and Hawke pulled desperately on his arm. Then Meredith’s sharp voice cut in. “Enough!” she barked. “There is nothing to be done. Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood.”

Hawke shot Meredith a wheedling look. “Come on, Meredith, is blood really necessary? Can’t we give them booze instead? That would calm everyone right down. I’ll buy.”

Meredith narrowed her eyes. “This is not a joke,” she snapped. “You have always seen the Templars as such, Champion, but I am very deadly serious.”

“Please, Rynne, be reasonable,” Carver suddenly said. “I don’t want to fight you.”

Fenris looked sharply at Carver. He had never heard Carver sounding so subdued.

Hawke’s grip on his arm was tighter than ever. “No one is forcing you to fight me, Carv. In fact, why don’t you join me? Fight beside your big sister like old times?” Her voice held the faintest tremor, and Fenris reached up to grasp her hand.

“Champion,” Orsino said, “does that mean…”

She sighed and turned to Orsino, and her face was a picture of rueful resignation. “Yes, Orsino, you’ve got me. I’ll defend you and your mages.”

There was a general outcry at her words: relief from Merrill and from Orsino’s entourage, outrage from Sebastian, and general dismay from Varric and Aveline both. Fenris wilted slightly; he’d known this was coming all along, but it was disappointing all the same.

Hawke winced up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Fenris, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “This is a mistake, but I am with you. You know that.”

She nodded and swallowed hard, then wrestled a smile back into place as she turned to Meredith. “So, what next? Shall I break out the champagne?”

Meredith glared at her, then gestured sharply to her entourage. “Kill them all!” she commanded. She snapped her fingers at Carver and one other Templar guard, then briskly walked away.

Carver shot a stricken look at Hawke as he followed Meredith’s steps. A moment later, the Templars were upon them.

Fenris fought with the same ferocity as he always did, holding nothing back as he brought his lyrium marks to life and swung his sword in a wide destructive arc. But with every Templar he felled, he grew more angry.

This was foolish, and it was wrong. Orsino’s people may not have been directly responsible for Anders’s deplorable stupidity, but neither were the Templars. Every heart he tore out, every limb he sliced and every life he now took: it was one Templar less to control the remaining mages.

By the time Meredith’s people were dead, Fenris was more irate than ever. He glared venomously at Anders, who was slowly taking a seat on a dilapidated crate.

Hawke stepped close to him, her hand tentatively outstretched. “Fenris, are you…?”

He instinctively shirked away from her hand. “Not now,” he said quietly, trying to keep the growl from his voice.

She swallowed hard. “Okay,” she whispered. She turned away and went to speak with Orsino, who was conferring with his small group of Circle mages.

While Hawke spoke with Orsino, Fenris breathed slowly, calming himself and bringing his flaring tattoos back under control. The rest of their group was gathering together a short distance away from Anders, who was sitting on the crate with his head hung low.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. It is too late for contrition, he thought angrily. If Anders thought to manipulate Hawke into forgiving him now, he would have to go through Fenris first.

A soft and pleading whine drew Fenris’s attention, and he looked down to find Toby sitting at his feet with a familiar and annoying expression.

Fenris pursed his lips. “Always the puppy eyes,” he grunted. “Do not look at me that way. He does not deserve your sympathy or mine.”

Toby gave a sad little woof, then trotted away join the others.

Orsino shook Hawke’s hand and ran off with his people in tow, and Fenris walked over to join her as she stood in front of Anders with her arms folded. “So,” she said. “Now what, Anders? What are we supposed to do now?”

Anders kept his head bowed as he replied. “This had to be done. This is the justice that all mages have awaited.”

“Ah, Justice. That damned hitchhiker on your soul,” Hawke drawled. “Did he tell you to do this?”

Anders lifted his face. “No,” he said firmly. “I told you before. When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I could no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could.” He took a deep breath, then lowered his head again. “If I pay for this with my life, then I pay.”

Fenris snorted. “Paying with your life seems just to me,” he said flatly.

“I agree,” Sebastian snapped.

Hawke ignored them and took a step closer to Anders. “Why didn’t tell me?” she said quietly. “Fuck’s sake, Anders, you could have talked to me. I asked you so many fucking times - why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Her voice was steadily rising in volume, but Anders cut her off. “I couldn’t tell you,” he said. For the first time that night, he sounded agitated. “I couldn’t give you the chance to stop me - or worse, to help me. I couldn’t-”

“I bloody well wouldn’t have helped you with this, that’s for certain,” Hawke yelled. “I might be foolish, but I’m not suicidal.” She kicked his foot petulantly. “Is that what this is, then? Some stupid death wish? Are you really so eager to die?”

Anders sighed. “If I die, then Justice would at least be free.”

Hawke stared at him in silence, but Fenris had had enough of his self-sacrificing act. He tutted in exasperation and waved dismissively at Anders. “He wants to die. Just kill him and be done with it.”

“Thank you, Fenris,” Sebastian said. “At least someone here understands the true meaning of justice.” He shot Hawke a pointed glare.

“Oh, come off it, both of you,” Isabela piped in. “I thought it was a bold plan.”

Aveline glared at her. “Bold? It was irresponsible. Sincerity does not justify this!”

Merrill folded her arms, and Fenris vaguely noticed that the little witch looked more serious than he had ever seen. “Anders should come with us,” she said. “Do what he can to put things right.”

Varric rubbed his mouth and didn’t speak, and Hawke shot him a pitiful look. “Varric? What do you think?”

He grimaced. “I think I’m sick of Templars and mages.”

Hawke wilted slightly, then turned back to face Anders, and Fenris could see the distress and indecision creeping over her face like a shadow. Then she reached around herself and absently scratched at her left-side ribs.

A sudden surge of sympathy dampened Fenris’s irritation. All at once he knew what she was thinking. First seeing Carver walk away with Meredith, and now the possibility of Anders dying… Fenris knew exactly what she was thinking.

Hawke sighed heavily, and when she gave her verdict, Fenris wasn’t surprised. “All right, Anders, you’re sticking with us,” she said. “You’re going to help get us out of this alive, or so help me, I’ll skin you myself with Isabela’s dullest dagger.”

Anders looked up at her, the resignation in his face wiped away by surprise. “You mean… stay with you? I… I didn’t think you would let me.”

“Hawke, you cannot be serious,” Sebastian expostulated. “If you let this abomination live, I’m leaving!”

Hawke stared at him with wide eyes. “What? You can’t leave now!”

Sebastian glared at her. “I thought I knew you, Hawke. I gave up Starkhaven to serve the Maker, but he has clearly turned his back on Kirkwall.”

Hawke reached for Sebastian’s wrist. “Sebastian, come on. Don’t be like that-”

He wrenched his arm away from her. “I’m going straight back to Starkhaven. And I’ll bring such an army on my return that there’ll be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule!”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. This was a twist he hadn’t been expecting. Sebastian was usually so calm and reasonable.

Sebastian took an aggressive step toward Hawke, and Fenris held up a hand to hold him back. “Sebastian,” he said quietly.

Sebastian’s lip curled with rage. “Fenris, you know this is against the Maker’s plan,” he railed. “Everything Hawke is doing here… This is wrong, and you know it.” He grasped Fenris’s shoulder. “You should come with me. Help me lead my army back here to raze this evil place to the ground!”

Fenris steadily returned his gaze. Sebastian had a valid point, but it didn’t matter. Fenris had long made his peace with what mattered most.

He shook his head. “I am sorry, my friend. But I stand with Hawke.”

Sebastian drew back as though he’d been struck. Then he glared at Hawke with fresh outrage. “I will come back and find your precious Anders,” he spat. “I will teach him what true justice is!” Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away.

There was a brief and ugly silence. Then Isabela chuckled. “How invigorating,” she purred.

Hawke hiccuped a little laugh, then hastily wiped her face. “Invigorating,” she said, then gave another little snort of laughter. “You know what’s invigorating? Having secret sex in someone else’s house during a party. This is not what I would call invigorating.”

Isabela perked up. “Ooh,” she said. “Now that was a very specific example. Someone’s been keeping secrets from me.” She winked at Fenris, and he shot her an annoyed look.

Aveline patted Hawke’s shoulder encouragingly. “Come on, Hawke. If we’re doing this, we had better get moving.”

Hawke sniffed hard and nodded, then gave them all a bright smile. “All right, you beautiful fools. Let’s go.”

They all set off at a brisk jog toward the docks, and it wasn’t long before Hawke was cracking jokes about Sebastian. “Honestly, it’s for the best that he left,” she said. “His piousness really cramped my style.” She elbowed Isabela. “We should do something really sinful now that he’s gone. A public orgy in the middle of the Hightown market, you think?”

“Oh yes,” Isabela purred. “That’s how we can celebrate at the end of this disaster.”

Hawke snickered, then reached out and took Fenris’s hand as they continued to run. “How about it, Fenris? Are you in for a public-”

“No,” he said flatly, and she and Isabela cackled.

Then Hawke sighed. “Ah, who am I kidding. It’s not like I was ever anything less than my usual sinful self around him. Not sure why he’s surprised by anything I do, really.”

Fenris gently squeezed her hand. Her voice was light and cheerful, but her fingers were cold and tense.

He waited until Isabela fell back to make some crude comment to Anders, then leaned toward Hawke. “I am sorry that he left,” he murmured.

Her smile slipped for a split second, and she squeezed his hand in return. “Me too,” she whispered.

They continued their flight through the Lowtown bazaar, but were stopped short by a group of Templars surrounding a young and terrified-looking Circle mage… who promptly burst into an abomination when a Templar drew her sword.

Fenris sneered in disgust as they all drew their weapons. He concentrated his efforts on taking down the misbegotten mage, and when both Templars and abomination were dead, he gave Hawke a cutting look. “Remind me what Orsino said. ‘No blood magic in the Tower’, wasn’t it?”

She dropped her eyes and didn’t reply, and Anders glared at him. “Will you just leave her alone for once in your life?”

“Shut your mouth, abomination,” Fenris hissed. “You lost your right to speak when you set this whole mess in motion!”

“Both of you shut up,” Hawke snapped suddenly. She scrubbed her hands roughly through her hair. “Just… shut the fuck up. Please.”

Fenris and Anders both obeyed, silenced by her uncharacteristic show of agitation, and the rest of the group turned to look at her with varying degrees of wariness.

“Hawke?” Merrill said softly.

Hawke shook her head slightly, then lifted her face and straightened her shoulders. “Come on,” she said brusquely. “Let’s just… let’s just go.”

Read the rest on AO3.