#and some good ol incredibly low self esteem!

[desired-fantasy-writings]

hello! hey!

I was thinking if you could maybe write some headcanons or maybe some comforting/tender imagines for the defence mercs with an s/o with low self esteem? the choice is yours really, I don't mind either way

Defense Mercs with an S/O that has low self esteem

A/N: I love these silly goobers sm I absolutely loved working on this. The past couple months for me have been tough so this was just as comforting to me as I hope it shall be for you, my dear readers. <3

Also all nicknames used are exclusively meant to be gender neutral!

Requested by: Anon Warnings: Tiny bit of angst, self doubt. Readers Gender: Gender Neutral Fanfic Type: Headcanons Fanfic Genre: Comfort Word Count: 677

Tavish (Demoman) 

The most he’ll do to cheer up his S/O is by making them laugh, giving them love - doing his drunk shenanigans or whatever else to see them smiling again.

Is not sure how to be the greatest support for them, but he’ll try until something works! When it comes to his partner, he never wants to give up.

If his S/O’s into board games (or poker) related he's pulling the whole collection out. 

Gets into super deep, non-stop drunk ramblings about how wonderful his S/O is when they bring up how they've been feeling about themselves lately. Will go far and beyond to prove all their doubts wrong. 

“Duckie, what you are… no I- You're so… Don’t say that… rubbish… ever again. You hear me? You're so beautiful. I wish you could see what I see in ya.” Tavish drunkenly mumbles against his S/O’s lips, giving them sloppy loving kisses all over. 

The man's not a poet or much of a romantic gentleman, but god damn nothing will stop him from expressing his love for his S/O… even if it's not in the most pleasant way.

Misha (Heavy)

Misha is a special kind of man who knows how to use his strengths - in this case physically and mentally. Will hold his S/O close if they desire that type of physical comfort from him. If his S/O would rather talk about it instead he's a very good listener and emotionally more mature than most men. Thank his mother and sisters for that. Will not speak unless his S/O is done talking about whatever's going on.

As emotionally mature as he is and intelligent - he often has trouble figuring out the right words to say at the moment.

When his S/O explains further about how they feel about themselves, Misha scoffs, a displeased rumble coming from his chest.

“Vhat?-” Misha says, surprised. Nothing about what his S/O said was true. He shakes his head, obviously disapproving, bringing his S/O close to him “-Heavy thinks vhat you say is nonsense, my милый. You're vonderful! Don’t say such awful things about self.”

Dell (Engineer)

Dell's used to this sort of thing being the person that most of the team go to for advice. When it comes to his S/O it hurts him seeing them so down and talking so lowly about themselves. What they're simply saying is SO untrue. 

In this situation he’ll take both him and his S/O out to the camping spot near the base, just the two of you. He finds being stuck inside when feeling like that isn't good for his S/O and will make them go outside no matter how much they protest. 

Simple peace and quiet, getting away from their colleagues for the night is his way of relaxing and getting out of his head. He wants to share that with his S/O, too. 

Dell of course brings his guitar with him, playing sweet ol’ songs just for his S/O. Dell hasn’t forgotten about bringing his S/O their favourite snacks and blankets as they cuddle by the fire all night. Dell’s such a sweetie pie and would do anything to get his S/O out of the negative headspace.

“Darlin’, the nonsense you’re simply spewing is untrue. You’re an incredible individual that's been such an asset for this team.” Dell mumbles into his S/O’s hair, the scent of them further relaxing him. He snuggles into them closer, nuzzling his nose into their hair - leaving a kiss.

“Look… me and the fellas don’t say it enough, but you really are somethin’ special. We wouldn’t have won as many matches as we have without you-" Dell pulls away for a moment, grabbing his S/O’s face gently to look up at him, he smiles warmly staring into their eyes so full of love “-And… you simply have captured my heart like no one has darlin’. Remember that. I love you for you and always sweet pea.”

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@ anon (🍁) : [ match report ready ]​

your match is...

✦ Rook Hunt

Though he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, Rook fits with your preference of being around fun, kind, yet chaotic people. Rook will bring some adventure and excitement to your life, while also respecting your introverted and cerebral tendencies. He deeply appreciates your curious, open-minded personality, and rejoices in the fact that you like trying out new things. Rook definitely has a zest for life and likes to share that with others when the opportunity presents itself, even if he comes on a little strong sometimes! Let him introduce you to some of his hobbies, and he will more than willingly participate in some of yours. In his opinion, partaking in hobbies together is a good way to get to know someone and bond. Even if you don’t always have the same interests, it’s good to broaden your horizons and show your loved ones that you care about what they like.

Rook will, for better or worse, play into your too-competitive nature sometimes. He loves a good, fun competition! He will both initiate and accept any challenges from you. Though he’s good-natured about it and doesn’t act like he takes it too seriously, he will not hold back! There’s no point in a competition if you’re not putting effort in, in his eyes! His personal favorite challenge for you two is a good ol’ game of hunter and prey. If you’re not athletic, he’ll change up the rules or give himself a handicap so you’re on a more even playing field. Thankfully, Rook isn’t a sore loser! No matter the outcome, the most important thing is that he had fun challenging or being challenged by you.

On the other hand, Rook will also sometimes lean into your lazy days! It is a nice change of pace, and he would like the variety that a lazy day brings to his usual busy schedule. Chances are, this would be a day where you each do your own thing but roughly in the same vicinity as each other. If you’re reading up on some weird topic online, he’d love to hear your thoughts on it. If you’re drawing or painting, he’d love it if you let him get a little glimpse of your progress or even the finished product! Of course, he would also be down for cuddling into bed with you and simply just existing in each other’s arms for a while!

Date nights are pretty big for him. Even if it’s a simple, routine date that isn’t particularly exciting, he still goes all out! He’ll pick out the perfect outfit, give you a small gift when he picks you up or when you pick him up for the date, and play the role of a caring, attentive boyfriend. Dates are the perfect change of pace where he both gets to dedicate his time and attention to you, while also participating in a shared activity… with the added bonus of the date being coded as romantic or intimate to some degree! Rook would absolutely love any dates that take you two to a museum or historical location of some sort, and he’d love to get dinner or some sort of street food at some point during the date.

The INTJ personality type and Type 5 enneagram go hand-in-hand with their passion for knowledge and their tendency to live in their heads. Rook would very much value your mind and input! He’s incredibly observant and quick-witted himself, but it never hurts to hear what others are thinking. He trusts that your thought process is thorough and that you’d also likely be well-aware of any weaknesses or biases your perspective may have. In addition to that, the contradicting traits of the INTJ is something that really catches Rook’s eye. INTJs tend to be rebellious and independent, yet they avoid social interactions and emotionally-charged situations. They can easily be both cynical and idealist. To Rook, these contradictions are a delightful little puzzle and he’d enjoy getting to see these different sides of you!

Thankfully, Rook is a positive and uplifting person. He will take your insecurities, your low self-esteem, and your overthinking in stride; and, on top of that, he wants to try and make a difference! He might get a bit overbearing sometimes, because he doesn’t want you to drag yourself down too much (after all, there are so many positive and amazing things about you!), but he is good at backing off when you feel pressured or overwhelmed. If you ever need reassurance, Rook is there to give you genuine praise and thoughtful remarks. He encourages you to vent to him when you’re upset or under stress instead of bottling things up. He knows that it’s difficult, that he can’t expect that you will automatically come to him every time, but he wants to make sure that you know that he is always willing to make time for you and listen to you!

One thing that he finds incredibly admirable is your growth-oriented approach to life! You can also see this play out through his fondness of Vil, who is always striving to be at his best no matter what he’s doing. To Rook, there’s just something he adores in seeing people self-reflecting and choosing to really apply and better themselves. You really can’t go wrong with at least looking at yourself and your actions and recognizing what your weaknesses are and how you can improve them or compensate for them. However, it can be all too easy to fall into perfectionism with this type of mindset, and you’ve identified that as one of your weaknesses already. Rook is all for encouraging you to be your best self, but he is also the first to pull you away from trying to achieve impossible ideals. He’s happy to let you push your limits, but he doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Though it may not be his default love language, he seems the type to get gifts for his friends and partner if he happens to come across something they may like. In your case, he would absolutely contribute to getting new art supplies for you! If you allow him into your workspace at all, he takes careful note of what items you use the most and makes it a point to replenish your supply! Rook can and will easily remember different products or brands that you’ve used and which ones you’ve said you liked or disliked (or if there’s something that you haven’t tried yet but you’re curious about it), and he uses that information when he shops around for you.

[yeehawkins]

(was gonna put this on my sideblog but eh feels like a certain brand of rambly to put here instead)

really wish i could draw tbh bc i was on a little kick once of looking at "draw the squad" drawings and imagining them with, band i like (if you know my sideblog or even just my icon you know which band lol)

i even very poorly scribbled hair on a few bases for myself lmao

i just very very briefly attempted and man i think ive just missed the train of being a maker of art lol

[guttersniper]

mutt + loneliness and leadership. big ole meta about some important aspects of mutt’s character. general triggers apply, under read more for length.

mutt has been weaponized during one of the most formative stages of his life. that does shit to the brain, to his physiology, to how he interacts with people. he has an elevated level of cortisol in his blood constantly because he is never at peace. there’s no such thing as safe.  

he is fiercely empathetic, cares deeply, and makes friends/allies quickly if he believes someone has even a scrap of decency (i’ve said it before: prove yourself to not be 100% of an asshole, and you’re good to go), but the very real and present and unique dangers mutt faces as a homeless child – an undocumented homeless child – compound into layers of trauma, stress, and mistrust.

he’s very aware of these, too, despite the fact he loathes to admit them out loud, and it is partly why he keeps running all the time.

the worst things could happen to him and nobody would care, nobody would notice. wouldn’t even be a small-print blurb on page fourteen of the newspaper. such is the life of an undocumented homeless child. you don’t exist. one wrong step, and he’s dead. one wrong step, and he’s smuggled somewhere he doesn’t want to be. one wrong step, and he’s trafficked into god knows what.

one wrong step, one wrong decision, one thing overlooked, just one mistake--

he doesn’t really know how to process a lull, a moment of quiet, because this has to be a trap, this has to be some kind of trick.

nowhere is home. no city, no town, no country, even. he’s forever drifting, running off, leaving things, people, behind him. again and again. staying in one place for too long starts to feel suffocating. he worries people are after him, he’s almost certain someone is. he leaves because he doesn’t want to be found, he leaves because he doesn’t want innocent people – who he has more than likely befriended, on some level – to be hurt because of him. that’s his number one fear, if he ends up staying someplace longer than he’s stayed others. figures they’d hurt everyone else, slaughter them, and keep him alive.

there’s something incredibly depressing about how much mutt longs for company and companionship. this boy is a lone wolf, while simultaneously not being one. he’s not a coldhearted loner, despite outward appearances and how he might want to present himself. he collects friends the same way he collects bruises and scabs, the same way shoes collect dirt. he’ll make friends with anybody. a whole block could know about that strange kid. helped someone with a broken household appliance, here. helped someone make a big meal, there. so on and so forth. but he so often feels alone. he so often is alone. he so often makes sure he is alone. his low self-esteem, traumatic life, and personality have made mutt value “pack” so much and yet always feel like he can’t have it. that he’s undeserving. that it will slip out of his grasp. that he’ll bring bad news onto the heads of whoever he’s around. he makes friends, he has to leave. he makes friends, they die. he makes friends, they leave. he’ll isolate himself, and he’ll be tough, wary, angry, mean, rude, unsettling. but he’ll also be compassionate and extroverted. there’s a way he can be both. he thinks. maybe not. but he isn’t going to stop. he’s always been stubborn like that.

he’s got a fraught relationship with recognizing himself. doesn’t know what his favorite things are, hasn’t had the time and resources to explore these things about himself. mutt really has a very precarious self-concept. very unreliable, and compound that with little sense of self-worth and self-esteem, whew. he doesn’t know what his favorites are, he really has no hobbies, and if you asked him these questions, he’d clam up. he wouldn’t know how to answer you. he hasn’t had the time and the space to explore those things about himself. he doesn’t really have an identity. he doesn’t know who he is outside of what’s been prescribed to him. he will lean into those stereotypes if he has to.

his name. god, his name. it’s a reclamation of being called a stray and a mutt (derogatory) and he said “lol whatever” and took it because he had no other name, right. it’s his name, even if people look at him weird for it, and he’s never going to want to be called something different, (ignoring the daniel bit, as that’s circumstantial, and he’d still want to be referred to as mutt). but still, people call him everything but mutt. boy, runt, little shit, etc etc, sometimes it isn’t their fault. he doesn’t share names. names mean something. names hurt. names give you opportunities for friendship, or opportunities to betray. names remain even when the person doesn’t. he’ll respond to just about anything at this point. he hesitates to be the first one to give it his own, and is rarely the one asking what your name is. at least, he supposes, no one will go after a boy named mutt.

(tldr: mutt vc what the fuck is a self concept. don’t ask me who i am, i don’t even know. get out of here and stop asking me questions before i rip your tongue out and stick it to the window just to watch it freeze.)

he grows up around blood and death and violence and that becomes normal. he’s just a baby and he forces himself not to be repulsed by or afraid of so many things. he is raised to be a weapon, an attack dog for an organization, and even though he’s escaped, none of that leaves. all of that training is why he’s still alive.

mutt responds to all this in an interesting way. he gets – stays – kind. his coping mechanism is to protect people all the more aggressively. maybe all he is is a blade, and this is the only stable thing he’s recognized about himself, but this is how he tries to make something good out of it. out of what was done to him. out of what was forced upon him. he asserts control and agency through helping and protecting people. stubbornness and defiance and insistent self-sufficiency is not only a character trait of his, but also a surprisingly adaptive response to having had his agency stolen from him over and over again. he has it in him to be a leader. he’s been shaped for leadership through experience

he knows what it’s like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. he’s worked with his hands and has the callouses to show for it. he can fish, cook, forage, bind wounds, build fires, and other necessary survivalist skills.

he’s lived among the common, everyday, working class people. he speaks several languages with varying proficiency. he’ll make friends with just about anybody -- don’t make someone fight and defend a stranger, get to know people. he’s loyal and protective and he attaches deeply and intensely. he cares. he’s prone to being bossy compensating for his height but it is never done with intent to harm (when dealing with those he cares for). 

he’s bold, intelligent, clever, and adaptable. he’s a quick learner that wants to get his hands on everything he can possibly learn. history, religion, horticulture, poetry, math, language, medicine, music, culture, law, science, art, etc. anything. he’s been trained in defense / fighting / handling guns and other weaponry. he’s not infallible (no one is) but for the most part, he assesses the honest nature of situations because that has what life has taught him to do. he can read people well, he can conceal his own emotions (oftentimes to his detriment), and he’s incredibly adept at eavesdropping / sneaking.

mutt knows that leadership is a duty, that a leader must put his people first, and must live for them. he will love someone with all of himself and go through hell to protect their life.

[jakey-beefed-it]

Trying to catalogue the ol’ comorbid disorders a bit so maybe i can do something about some of them possibly. Under a cut because hoo boy, not an exciting or fun analysis.

definitely have depression. prozac makes it better. not good. but better. manageable. no longer aggressively want to die. just sort of low-key don’t care if i do a lot of the time. sometimes forget that i have a physical form and am briefly almost happy. then see self in mirror or have difficulty fitting into a booth at a restaurant or smth and suddenly want to crawl into a hole and die

definitely have massive body-image issues (rimshot... see because.... massive body... because... it’s a fat joke... anyhow). sometimes wonder if i’m on the asexual spectrum but then remember how things were for me as a horndog teenager and probably it’s just that i’ve got a suppressed libido due to weight, depression, antidepressants, and overwhelming tsunamis of shame whenever i think about my body in any way shape or form

definitely have anxiety. plagued by nightmares and disrupted sleep and have like 2 full on anxiety attacks in any given year where i feel like i’m having a goddamn heart attack but heart attacks don’t respond to biofeedback, ya know? also, apparently, have night terrors such that i scream in my sleep. which is. kinda funny, in a humiliating way.

have been diagnosed as bipolar in the past but don’t really have proper manic phases anymore. at worst, have mixed states where brain is going very fast... about how much it hates me/itself/everything. less ‘mania’ and more ‘high-speed depression’. might not be bipolar actually based on -

almost certainly have adhd based on like... everything ...but reluctant to go and get a diagnosis and treatment because i’m so full of self-loathing that i feel like i don’t ‘deserve’ to get treated for being a useless sack of shit/due to just generally low self-esteem which is... wait for it... a symptom of adhd

apparently adults with adhd are like... pretty regularly misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder. because they’re obviously depressed (being brainweird is depressing and alienating) but also often hyperfocus and such.

anyhow yeah. almost certainly have adhd, basically tick every single box but especially hyperfocus but especially rejection-sensitive dysphoria. i’ve gottan a much better handle on responding to creative rejection or perceived rejection with anger but that sure did used to be a thing for Young and Craziest Jake between like 18 and 24 who had NO idea what the hell was wrong with him but it sure was a LOT. i always had a pretty solid handle on interpersonal rejection in that it would make me feel shitty (sinking, cold, numb chest, physical pain) but i would respond with ‘oh.’ and try to get the fuck out of that social interaction asap rather than being an entitled asshole about it. but hoo boy did i used to view any perceived slight on my creative pursuits as like, a thrown gauntlet. i’m much better about that nowadays at least! just reacting with ‘oh’ and wanting to get the fuck out is more eusocial than being a prick about it.

anyhow basically perceive self as fundamentally loathsome and disgusting, inside and out, without merit or value, and so naturally all pursuits that bring fleeting distraction from that are prized but can turn to ashes real goddamn fast if they’re not *quite* distracting enough and i have a moment of self-perception. while, say, painting miniatures- the image of a hunched and stinking sack of lard making ugly expressions with an ugly face while concentrating entirely too much on something utterly irrelevant. can ruin it for days. not even sure if that qualifies as anhedonia (which is another big thing i DO suffer from) as opposed to like... anti-hedonia whereby all my hobbies just remind me of what a piece of shit i see myself as. to the point where the other day i was strongly tempted to take the sisters of battle minis i’m currently working on and just smash them to bits in a fit of misplaced rage. they’re plastic, it’s not them i hate, it’s my damn self, and so destroying something that i put a lot of work into offers the promise of brief catharsis without more direct self-harm. suppressed the urge thankfully- learned how to do that the hard way over the past decades, too. the aftermath is always achingly regretful and not at all cathartic.

anyway. this situation. it’s not good, obviously. should really do something about it. maybe seek adhd diagnosis. maybe try to work on self-acceptance both mental and physical. that’s incredibly difficult though. to unlearn years and years of messages from within (and without, sometimes) that i’m unacceptable. have tried improving, have had some success in becoming better person, have had no success in giving a shit about that and still focus on all the negatives. 

tl;dr this is basically that dumb nietzche quote ‘acute crisis; in bed all week’ that people meme on except instead of being in bed i’ve been having difficulty staying asleep and instead sort of standing around like

which admittedly is something i do kind of a lot hence my fuckening icon but yeah. acute crisis.

nothing anyone can do about it but maybe me, so i guess i’d better either do that or try and work into a hyperfixation so i can put this all aside for a while and just be in the zone.

[thelastspeecher]

Angiewolf AU - The Morning After

So I know I said last week that I was going to be taking a break from writing so I could focus on my thesis.  But I also said that I might randomly post ficlets if I get struck by inspiration for something.  And this is one of those times.

This is a long overdue scene, taking place after the events of Weirdmageddon in my Angiewolf AU.  As for what all happened during Weirdmageddon in this AU, read to find out.  Or go back into my blog and find the posts I made about it last year.  Whichever floats your boat.

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              Ford looked up from his mug of coffee as Stan walked into the kitchen.

              “Your footsteps are incredibly loud,” he informed Stan.  Stan froze.  He slowly turned his head to stare at Ford.  “I could hear you the moment you stepped outside of your bedroom.”  It had been one of the many things Ford could hear from his seat at the kitchen table.  He wondered if the walls were thing or the high ceilings, built with werewolves’ large stature in mind, amplified noises.  No matter the cause, the house hadn’t seemed half as quiet as Ford expected it to be this early in the morning.

              “You- Ford- you’re-” Stan stammered, running a hand through his hair.

              “I have two questions I would greatly appreciate an answer for,” Ford interjected.  Stan blinked. He seemed taken aback.  At what, Ford wasn’t sure.

              “Uh.  Shoot.”

              “First, why did I wake up in your guest room, on one of your spare werewolf-sized dog beds?  Second, why was I nude?” Ford asked.  Stan opened and closed his mouth silently.  “I realize you may not know the answers to those questions, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

              “No, Ford, it’s-”  Stan swallowed.  “I can answer your questions.  But before I do, you need to answer one from me.”  Ford waved a hand, indicating he was willing to hear Stan’s question. Stan strode over to the table and sat next to him.  “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked in a low voice.

              “I…”  Ford furrowed his brow, thinking furiously.  “I think the last thing I remember is that we were both being held hostage by Bill.”  Stan nodded. “You were in wolf form, as Weirdmageddon began during a full moon and time was frozen during the entirety of the event. And you were…”  A snippet of a memory flashed through Ford’s mind.  Animal eyes narrowed, a vicious snarl of teeth as long as his arm, immense pain.  Ford swallowed.  “Did you attack me?”

              “No, I-”  Stan chewed on his lip.  “It’s complicated, what happened.”  He frowned at Ford.  “You really don’t remember?”

              “No, I don’t,” Ford said defensively.  “And frankly, your body odor isn’t helping me to focus.”

              “My body odor?”

              “Yes!  When was the last time you showered?”

              “Last night.”

              “Before or after you smoked a cigar, drank an entire bottle of whiskey, and worked on your car’s engine?” Ford snapped.  Stan leaned back in his chair.  He was watching Ford with an expression that took him a moment to recognize.

              It’s the same expression he used to have when he did his best to help his children figure something out themselves.  

              “I didn’t do any of that, Sixer.  Especially not the cigar thing.  I gave up smoking decades ago when Angie got pregnant.”  Stan’s tone matched his face.  He was holding back the entirety of what he knew, providing as few crumbs as possible so that Ford could come to a conclusion on his own.  “And I sure as hell ain’t gonna pick it up again.  I like being able to breathe.”

              “But you smell like-”

              “Like what?” Stan prompted.

              “Cigar smoke, whiskey, and motor oil,” Ford said firmly.  Stan raised an eyebrow at him.  “What?!”

              “C’mon.  I know you’ve heard that phrase before.”

              “I-”  Another memory floated to the surface, from decades ago.  Angie explaining how she could tell who entered a room just by their smell.  “That’s- I’m smelling your- your scent?”  Stan nodded. “The scent that only werewolves can detect?”

              “Stanford,” Stan said seriously, “you really want that title of ‘World’s Dumbest Genius’, don’t you?”  Ford slumped against the back of his chair.  “The dots are starting to connect now.”

              “Yes,” Ford croaked.  “Yes, they are.  You’re not loud or smelly-”

              “Okay, that’s not true,” Stan interrupted.  “Don’t slander me like that.  I’m just not as loud and smelly as you think I am.”

              “…because I was turned and now have a werewolf’s heightened senses,” Ford said. Stan nodded again.  Ford covered his face with his hands.  “How?  When?”

              “The last thing you remember was right before you asked me to turn you. You had this…completely stupid idea to trick Bill into your mind and then erase your memory so that he’d be gone forever.”  Stan scoffed. “Somehow, it fucking worked.”

              “That’s right,” Ford said slowly.  “Bill realized that you had the information he sought, not me.”

              “Yeah, well, being the mate of a pack leader has its benefits.”  Stan stretched.  “All sortsa magical weird things talk to me and tell me shit.  I probably – no, definitely – know more about Gravity Falls’ weirdness than you do now.”

              “You turned me so that I could take your place,” Ford said.  Stan’s face hardened.

              “You literally put your arm in my mouth.  I didn’t wanna do it, but I- you insisted.”  Stan looked down at the table and rubbed his thumb against a bright red stain.  “Now I know why Angie hated turning me so much.  It fucking sucks.”

              “And then I shifted.”  Ford frowned. “I don’t remember anything after the bite.  How did you manage to pull off the switch?  It was a permanent full moon.”

              “Well…”  Stan sighed. “Being a werewolf for almost thirty years has its benefits.  In some cases, I can force a shift back to human.  It doesn’t last long, but that’s what I did.  Bill was fooled into thinking you were me, since you were the one that was the wolf, and you know how the rest goes.”  Silence fell.

              Or at least as silent as things will be now that I have a wolf’s hearing.  Ford tried to ignore the faint sounds of someone getting out of bed somewhere in the house.  He cracked a weak smile in an attempt to alleviate the somber mood.

              “It was a very complicated plan,” he said.  Stan let out a half-hearted laugh.

              “No shit.”

              “Some would say overly complicated.”

              “Again.  No shit, Poindexter.”

              “How the hell did it work?”

              “I have no fucking clue,” Stan said, exasperated.  He dragged his hands down his face.  “But it did.  And you were a werewolf who didn’t have any memory.  Luckily, since Angie’s the Mother Wolf and I’m her mate, you listened to me when I told you what to do.  So we managed to get you back here, set you up in the guest room, and just sorta worked on trying to get you to remember things.  You were stuck as a wolf, but since we could still communicate, you were remembering things bit by bit.  Yesterday, it seemed like you finally got all your memory back.”  Stan rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.  “And now you’re back to square one.”

              “I don’t have amnesia,” Ford said.

              “You don’t fucking remember-”

              “I don’t remember the time I was a werewolf,” Ford said, talking over Stan. “I remember everything else.”

              “You-”  Stan groaned. “Oh, fucking hell.  It’s that amnesia that happens when you first shift, isn’t it?”  He looked at Ford.  “We went through all that trouble to get you to remember shit and it woulda come back once you turned human again.”  He slapped the table in frustration.  There was a rustle from upstairs, like someone was startled awake by the noise. “God fucking dammit.”

              “I’m not quite sure that’s accurate,” Ford said softly.  “Angie went into a fugue state when she first shifted.  She couldn’t remember who she was and was stuck in wolf form as a result.  I think that restoring my memory was crucial to allowing me to return to human form. Once I was human again, the memory loss was no longer a concern.”

              “I don’t think I’d say that,” Stan said.  “I mean, you can’t remember any of the last like…month.”

              “Month?”  Ford gaped. “I was a wolf for a month?”

              “Give or take a few days, yeah.”

              “Holy Moses,” Ford muttered.  He rubbed his forehead.  “That’s…unfortunate.”  Stan snorted.

              “Understatement of the year.”

              “Heh.  I suppose.” Ford furrowed his brow.

              “What?”

              “Did something happen with Fiddleford while I was a wolf?  I think I remember…well, not any specific events.  Just that I had very strong emotions regarding him-”

              “Pfft, like that’s news.”

              “-and maybe his son?” Ford finished, ignoring Stan.  Stan’s eyes widened.  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

              “I…”  Stan grimaced.  “You found something out, yeah.  It kinda sucks you forgot it, but you’ll figure it out again pretty fast.  All you gotta do is track down Fidds and Tate.”

              “That will jog my memory?”

              “It’ll do somethin’.”

              “Could you be more explicit?” Ford asked.  Stan shook his head.  “Stanley, I’m not in the mood for one of your games-”

              “It’s not a game.  It’s- well, you’ll know what I mean when you see Tate again.”

              “Stanley.”

              “I can’t say anything about it, Ford,” Stan said in a tight voice.  “I promised I wouldn’t.  And honestly, being a werewolf has made me a lot more serious about promises.”  Stan shook his head.  “Man, wolves don’t fuck around with that shit.”

              “…Very well,” Ford said after a moment.  He sighed.  “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

              “That’s what you did last time.  You can do it again.”

              “I’m going to have to.”

              “Yep,” Stan said cheerfully.  He got up from the table.  “Before you head out, though, want some breakfast?”  Ford’s stomach rumbled.  Stan grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.  I’ll serve you up the Werewolf Special.  It’s all meat.”  Ford smiled back.

              “That sounds both delicious and appropriate.”  The scent of sweet peas and rainwater suddenly filled the room. Ford looked over at the kitchen entryway.  “Hello, Angie.”  Angie smiled at him.

              “Hello, Stanford.  I see yer back to yer old self.”

              “As much as I can be.”

              “I got to admit,” she sighed, “I’ll miss havin’ a big ole wolf kowtowing to me all the time.  Not goin’ to lie, it was a good boost fer my self-esteem.”

              “What do you mean?” Ford asked.  Angie grinned crookedly.

              “Hon, you were a wolf ruled by wolf instincts.  And all of those instincts told ya to practic’ly walk on eggshells ‘round the head of yer pack.”  She pointed at herself.  “Me.” Ford chuckled softly.  “D’ya think you’ll whip up a cure fer yourself?”

              “Honestly?  I’m not sure at this point.  Having heightened senses might come in handy.  But the shedding…”

              “Yeah, vacuuming’s a daily chore,” Stan said.  Voices carried from upstairs.

              “Sounds like you should make up more than just one serving of breakfast,” Ford said.  Stan nodded.

              “Yep.  Ang?”

              “On it, darlin’.”  Angie joined Stan in digging through the fridge and rifling through the cabinets, pulling out cookware.

              “Stan?” Ford said.  Stan looked up from a bowl of eggs.

              “Yeah?”

              “I’m very glad that you didn’t turn me until after we began the process of burying the hatchet.  That’s not something I’d like to have forgotten.”  Stan grinned.

              “Duh.  If you were still as pissed at me now as you were before everything went to shit, when you woke up naked in my house you’d probably think…I have no clue what you’d think, actually.”

              “Me neither.  So it’s just as well that I didn’t.”

              “If yer goin’ to yap ‘n distract Stan, ya have to at least help cook,” Angie said, putting a hand on her hip.  “We have a lot of werewolves to feed, not to mention Fidds, who’s comin’ over with Tate.”

              “I’ll be quiet,” Ford said.  Angie shook her head.

              “Nope.  Get up. Yer helpin’.”

              “I’m not-” Ford started.  Angie frowned at him.  Some part of Ford urged him to do what she said.  He stood.  “You weren’t joking about how influential the pack leader is.”

              “Nah, that part was just me bein’ a mom.”  Angie beckoned him over.  “C’mon. Help Stan crack some eggs.”

              “Are you going to make pancakes?” Ford asked.  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “If I am, they’ll be human-exclusive,” she replied.

              “That’s something else to put in the downsides of being a werewolf,” Ford mumbled.  Angie snickered.  “What?”

              “I’m very glad my pancakes are in such high demand, that’s all.  Now, wash yer hands and get crackin’.”

[clown-bait]

A Very Monster Christmas (Monster Roommate AU) PT6

Ok so this is the final chapter for part 2 but obviously theres a long way to go. I consider this the middle part of this whole story. Part 3 will be out later this week so look forward to that folks!

CH 23 Santa Baby

“Another successful French exit!” Leech sighed happily shutting her curtains from the blizzard that had begun outside. She jumped from her bed when a gloved hand tapped her shoulder.

“Pennywise?” her ears perked up.

“Probably not the one you're thinking of.” a gruff voice answered her.

“Oh uh hey pops.” Leech said shuffling uncomfortably.

“No need for the nerves Fangs you're family now.” Uncle Penny chuckled almost gently. He handed her a glass of warm red liquid that wide red smile making his eyes twinkle. The vampire cautiously sipped from the glass.

“Thanks? What’s the catch here?”

“No catch, you gotta put on some meat for the little ankle biters.” The older clown smirked patting her shoulder.  “Speaking of the brats can I say hello?”

“I’m pretty sure its only been like three weeks don’t think there's much there to talk to.” leech finished her beverage quickly licking the glass clean as she watched her in-law approach her.

“And I’m pretty sure this will go by a lot faster than normal Fangs.”

“Has something like this ever happened before?” Leech asked pulling up her shirt to watch her insides glow.

“I had tried it with a human once while Junior slept, self preservation attempt.” he grimaced a bit at the memory. “The host didn't last long enough…” the older clown paused when the savory flavor of fear drifted into his large red nose. “Don't worry Fangs, I think you have a much better chance at it.” Uncle Penny placed a gloved hand over her skin and made a similar trill to his younger counterpart his being deeper with a jazz like flair. The lights within her flashed rapidly like lightning in a bottle. After an awkward moment of silence he burst out laughing. “Oh man those are Junior’s kids all right!! Violent little brats!”

“Great, do any of them take after me?”

“Yeah the extremely vicious ones.” Uncle Penny started to laugh again at his own joke.

“Oh come on! I’m not that bad!” the vampire huffed pulling down her shirt and going back to licking the cup clean.

“Oh trust me Peachy you're bad.” Pennywise Junior stood in the doorway and smirked.  

“You like it though.” Leech beamed reaching for him to join her.

“You are very right my dear. I love it.” he grinned back leaning down to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I missed you.” he whispered warmly. The elder clown rolled his eyes.

“Get a room ya heathen.”

“I'm in it, you however are welcome to leave at any time.” the younger Pennywise cocked an eyebrow at his older self as he pulled his mate’s legs over his own. His uncle made a face and left to rejoin the other murderers downstairs shutting the door with him. “I’ll tell your mom you weren't feelin’ good. Don't bounce my grandkids around too much Junior.”

“Oh my god leave.” Leech groaned as her mate cackled his bells bouncing with him.“What’s put you in such a good mood?” the vampire asked as her hands found their way into Penny’s ruffles.

“Your mother fed me more cookies!” he purred. “She also wants you to wear this hat.” her clown pulled a santa hat over her bald head then grabbed the little puff ball on the end to play with.

“Wow you are easy to please.” Leech chuckled.

“Come, I wish to see Krueger beaten into submission by your video gaming before he leaves.”

“Maybe later Pen I want to be alone for a bit.” Leech mumbled and then grew silent again. Penny sniffed the air and roughly cupped her cheeks “Talk.”

“Am I really that easy to read?”

“Like a book.”

“Well since there's no hiding it. I'm overwhelmed.” she sighed and rested her head on her clown’s warm chest. “All this, the pregnancy, my mom, Mike Hanlon, finding out I'm a useless bargaining token. Did I tell you I still can’t influence minds without bleeding all over the place? Talk about a blow to my self esteem.”

“Peachy” her clown removed her from his lap and rose to his feet pulling her up to stand equal with him. “Do you know why I bonded myself to you?”

“You have an insatiable thirst for undead pussy?”

“Other than that.”

“I'm at a loss.”

“Because you are incredibly stubborn.”

“I can't tell if that's a compliment or not.”

“In all my time here you are the only thing I have met with enough fight to bare my offspring. Anyone of lesser will would not survive, you were made for me my love.”  

“You could've just you like your women high strung.” Leech laughed to herself and hugged her clown tight. She couldn't tell if it was from the hormones or just the feeling of hugging him that made tears well up in her eyes and she quickly buried her face to hide it as feelings came out in waves. “Shit. Now you've gone and made me cry.”

“It was not meant to insult-“

“I love you. Stop talking.”

“No.” he hummed petting the soft hat on her cold head. “I brought the plant with me!”

“The what?”

“The kissing plant the one you hang up?”

“Mistletoe?”

“Yess!” the clown bounced excitedly pulling said plant out from seemingly nowhere “I want to use it! That is what one does with their mate on this day yes?” he stared at her eagerly as he worked at fastening it to the ceiling.

“Move it over the bed.” Leech tugged at him a bit till his unnaturally long arm was over her mattress. “Perfect. Get over here baby daddy.” she giggled through her sharp buck teeth. Pennywise joined her with a trademark cackle that trailed off as he pulled her close cupping her cheeks in his large hands.

“What about our guests darling?”

“Fuck em. Party’s over anyway, we’ll just say I was having an emotional hormone breakdown or some BS.”

Pennywise made an amused rumble and brought his lips just out of reach of hers stopping to take in her scent. He shut his eyes and inhaled deep as thick sweet smells assaulted his senses. “I love you too little hunter.” he growled out seconds before smashing his lips into hers. Leech could feel the heat of his warm plump lips engulfing hers that were extra cold in the winter air. His embrace was heated as his talons pressed into skin and fangs sloppily dragged against lips.  

“You know” Leech panted between furious kisses “Mistletoe is a parasite.” Pennywise shoved his mate backwards onto her bed and crawled on top of her pinning her body with his massive form. His lips latched back onto her nipping at the soft flesh with his teeth while grinding his squirming erection down against her hips. He pulled off panting and still dry humping her making a goofy smirk in realization “Like our children!” he giggled.

“Oh my god you can't call them parasites” Leech laughed and gasped as Penny licked and kissed his way to her waistband dragging his long fingers over her stomach. “NO! OH GOD THAT TICKLES NO!” she shrieked and jolted as his claws ghosted over her skin. The clown’s eyes lit up like the twinkling lights that decorated the houses outside.

“Does it now? Maybe Pennywise should punish you for being so naughty this year hmm?”

“Oh no! NO PENNY!” Leech squealed as her clown started his assault laughing with her and getting lost in the moment. Deadly talons meant to slice throats sheathed themselves replaced with soft gloved fingers that danced ever so gently over her skin as she giggled and thrashed.

“Naughty, Naughty, Naughty!” he chanted as continued to attack her. Leech tried to grab his arms to stop him but Penny snarled grabbing her shirt and pulling it up off her head in one swift motion leaving it on her wrists as a makeshift restraint. He smirked in her face as he held her arms up brining his free hand back over her body. The clown bowed his head down and for the first time noticed the red lingerie she had hidden from him underneath her baggy pajamas. Pennywise sat as still as a statue until he a low rumble dripping with lust rattled from his throat. The eldritch’s claws ran up her sides in a much less playful way, all the way up till each cupped an entire breast and the creature loomed over his mate with an absolutely feral look in his eyes. “NaUghTy.” he hissed his voice baritone and distorted and Leech swore she saw steam leave his lips..

“Merry Christmas Ruffles.” Leech smirked her long front fangs shining in the moonlight.

The clown growled and manhandled her up till she was sitting on his lap his costume melting away into a more “holiday appropriate" one complete with a santa hat of his own. Leech impatiently pushed open his cherry red coat feeling his steel muscles underneath only to have her throat harshly grabbed and fangs graze her ear. Pennywise squeezed her neck tighter as he moved his nose and fang filled lips over the skin on her face hissing and inhaling her adrenaline filled scent. “Tell me naughty girl what’s your name.” he snarled pulling her face against him by her jaw. Of course he'd want to make this into some perverted Santa role play. Leech smiled nervously as her breathing labored under his iron grip.

“L-Lee-“

“Not tonight.” he snapped at her forcing her to look him in the eye. “Tonight you are Fuck Meat. understand?”

leech squirmed and panted “Holy shit penny…” in an instant Pennywise cut off her air and yanked her back against him.

“UNDERSTAND?!” he nearly roared and Leech prayed no one downstairs noticed the loud eldritch noises coming from her room. He eased his grip on her throat slightly letting air back into her lungs and she gasped out her answer.

“Y-y-yes sir!”

“That’s better my little toy, much better. Do you want to tell Ol’ Pennywise what you want for Christmas Fuck Meat?

“Well sir I was really hoping for a nice long candy cane.” Leech smiled and reached for his belt buckle. Penny wrenched her hand away and held it right below his jaws.

“Ohhh but you've been such a naughty girl Fuck Meat. Naughty girls don't get treats.” he growled and unsnapped her bra  “Do you know what naughty girls get?” Penny practically purred returning his grip to her neck just a little bit tighter than last time.

Leech shook her head in his grasp and penny moved her hand to his buckle guiding her to undo it.

“A thick piece of coal.” he hissed as something very large and very different sprung free. It was thick and the color of charcoal, a bit of precum beaded at the top and ran down its ridges. Leech swallowed hard at the sight of it.

“Merry Christmas.” he all but snarled into her ear as he guided her hand to touch what Leech would describe as the evilest cock she'd ever seen. The organ was strangely warm and slimy exactly what one would expect from an eldritch horror. It throbbed as she stroked him and Penny groaned when her nails trailed up the sensitive ridges.

“Yeeesss” he hissed forcing her head down to stare at his demonic cock. “Look how good you're making your Penny feel, it leaks for you.” Pennywise brought his hand to her bare breast pinching and twisting one of her nipples grinning wickedly when she moaned for him. “Need to get you nice and wet my little fuck meat.” he whispered removing her hands from him and laying her down. “Wouldn't want the little ones to get hurt.” he smirked at her as he removed her panties with his teeth licking his way back up her inner thigh. He licked a stripe up her pussy and then probed her entrance lubricating her with his massive amounts of drool. Leech gripped his arm and gave him a sharp squeeze and a pair of amber eyes flicked up from between her legs.

“Be careful ok?”

The clown broke character for a brief moment moving up his mate to kiss her cheek in reassurance “They are half me and half you. I promise they will be safe.” Leech turned her nose into him smiling and tracing her fingers over his cheekbones.

“Ok…ok you can continue.”

Pennywise growled and pulled her wrists up over her head. “That's not the game we’re playing tonight.” a pair of shadowy tentacles slithered out from the teeth at the base of his cock wrapping around Leech’s legs to hold them apart.

“Tell me again nicely, what do you want for christmas Fuck Meat.”

“You.” she panted “I want you.”

“You want me to what?” Penny grinned wickedly and ground himself in the slimy slick folds of his mate’s pussy.

“P-Penny.” Leech sputtered as the ridges of his cock grazed over her clit

“Tell me Fuck Meat!” he spat stopping his movements and resting his head at her entrance.

“P-Please Pennywise. Please I want you to fuck me.”

Pennywise let out a shaky growl and sent his hips slowly forward, Leech cried out as he parted her lips. Inch after horrible inch sank into her in what felt like slow motion. His bumps and ridges dragged along her inner walls and Leech could only imagine what they'd feel like once he started thrusting. Pennywise’s eyes had rolled back and his goblin shark mouth grew out of his lips in a silent scream. She was so perfectly fitted around his new cock and molten hot drool dripped from his gums onto his mate’s chest like candle wax.  

When he finally regained composure and started to move it took Leech everything she had not to let out a loud moan instead turning her head and biting down onto her comforter. She could feel the slow and steady drag of Pennywise’s cock against her walls and her legs wrapping tightly around him pulling his hips in to hit deeper. Penny let out a deep groan and snapped his hips harder arching his cock in a way that hit her in all the right spots. He knew her body like the back of his own hand and could make her scream if he wanted to. Penny gave his mate a few more test pumps then with a snap of his fingers removed his costume which cindered off of his skin feeling like static around Leech’s legs. He moved to lay on top of her his warm skin covered her cool flesh like an electric blanket as he began to hump into her at a steady rhythm. One of his claws gored into her thigh the other ripped into the mattress as steam left his lips in a breathy growl. Leech moved her own set of talons up his lean biceps then to his shoulders feeling the raw dormant power contained within the form he wore. The creature under the clown skin churred with delight as she panted out his name like a prayer. It didn't matter what form he took her as she loved IT wholly and completely and those three magic words they rarely said to one another came spilling out of her lips as his speed increased.

“Penny!” she found herself whining “Penny, I love you! Oh god I love you, I love you!” she couldn't control her babbling and involuntarily dug her claws into the marble white flesh of his back. Her clown let out a primordial roar fangs extending forward thrusts hard and feral. “Say it again love. Praise me!” he demanded losing himself to his mate’s body as he rutted into her with his new cock. He shifted it again inside her wanting to see what different sensations he could feel as his cock head flared open slightly to stretch her walls. Leech yelped at the change and Penny smiled wickedly into her skin his hot breath washing over her in waves as his speed increased again. “Mmmmmm take it Fuck Meat! Penny’s little cocksleeve! Yeesss take all of me! Take it, take it take iT!” he babbled until his language was nothing more than slurred almost-words amongst the churrs and growls. Sensory overload began to blur the vampire’s vision and she struggled to find the words until they burst out of her lungs in gasps “FUCK Pennywise I'm close, I'm fucking close! Please!” she begged him bringing him out of his trance and finally one of his hands moved off her breasts to that sensitive little bundle of nerves between her legs. Leech gasped at the contact arching her hips and pushing back into him her face straining and cracking from the pressure of holding back. “Go on my love, cum for me! Cum for your Penny. Cum cum cum!” Pennywise somehow managed to rasp out desperate to feel her squeeze and spasm around him. When she came Leech felt as if a meteor had just crashed and exploded in her body which seized tight around her clown. Pennywise’s eyes rolled back from the sensation, teeth extended forward as he grabbed her neck in his jaws holding her in place while he met his own release. His love growls rumbled through his body as Leech twitched with aftershocks till his cock stilled its pumping of floating seed into her.

The vampire somehow found her arms and wrapped them around her mate who still held her in his jaws petting his matted hair was about all she could do. Finally after what seemed like a thousand years teeth retracted from her skin and Pennywise pulled out, a trail of opal liquid floating around their bodies from where they conected.

“Holy fuck.” Leech panted as the clown collapsed with a grunt.

The eldritch groaned and yanked a blanket on top of him. turning away from his mates gaze.

“At the end there..it was almost like you were…..Pen was that your version of love making?”

The clown made an inhuman moo-like growl tucking his long limbs in as he flopped over onto his side. he refused to look at her and buried his face in the blanket letting out a low dangerous hiss.

“Look big guy I know you don't like talking about your feelings but its ok alright? I loved it and I love you. Also I'm fucking freezing give me some of that blanket.”

A pair of golden eyes flicked open then his arm lifted the comforter up like a cloak allowing Leech to slip under it and fit herself against him. She had never felt his naked clown form like this outside of sex his body was so smooth and abnormally warm. She liked the feeling and pressed herself into him more hoping he wouldn't pull away.

“How are the kids?” she asked bringing his hand down to her belly desperate to hear him say something. Finally he moved tracing his fingers lightly over her stomach then pressing his warm palm over her womb.

“Happy. You are happy so are they.”

“That’s cause their daddy knows how to make me smile.” Leech turned over and beamed up at her clown.

“Merry Christmas Peachy.” he finally grinned through cherry red lips and bunny teeth.

Leech leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose “Merry Christmas to you too Pennywise.”

The vampire buried her face in the crook of the eldritch’s neck letting his deep rumbling purrs and smells of chocolate and peppermint lull her into comfort. And forever safe in the arms of her boogie man, the queen of Derry finally fell into a deep warm sleep.

-------------------------------------

YEAH MIDDLE PART IS DONE WOOH! The good news is I have basically 4 chapters of the next part of this story already written so the waits wont be so long until I get caught up to the start of IT Ch2 then obviously Im gonna wait to see how that plays out. So yay for me finishing things for once!

[welcometomyworldofbs]

Reason Number Two! {{Major Spoilers}}

Kinda goes alongside reason 1>>> The second reason why I think Nick isn’t an evil prick is because he is, by nature, a bloodthirsty, homicidal, bay-shit crazy demon who thinks nothing deserves the sweet release of death. In short- he’s the Malachai. {{but he’s not JUST the Malachai, now is he?}}

I don’t know why this is so hard for some to grasp, but I’m serious on the whole he-acts-like,-a-million-times-better-than-any-of-his-fathers-before-him-thing. 100% serious about him being a big ‘ole Malachai. If you don’t believe me, google it. Also, if you were your own worst enemy ((literally speaking)) then you wouldn’t be happy either ((read the bottom if you haven’t read CON)).

Honestly- I think it’s easier to accept the fact that he’s a special bean rather than swim in Denial River.

Sorry to be the Bear of Bad News, but Nicky Gautier is a blue-eyed demon boy who the Simi loves and wishes she could eats. It’s a thing, people.

Key words being “demon boy.” I can’t stress this enough. And for those of you who haven’t read CON yet, allow me to educate you on the big bad nightmarish hatred-infused bloodsucking demon.

1.) they are the most hateful, angry demons. Period. They don’t give a fuuuuuuuuuuudge about who they hurt. The only time they’d care is if they personally wanted you dead {which is basically almost every being}. Ever.

2.) they have always been the most feared species of demonkyn. Ever since Monakribos curse his sons, to be exact. You know, beginning of Time and stuff.

3.) they are HELLA HELLA MACHO POWERFUL!!! I mean VERY POWERFUL. like, up there with gods and such.

Major powers include: ATTENTION!! THESE ARE COPIED FROM NICK’S (CON) WIKIPEDIA!! IT IS NOT MINE ORIGINALLY! I DID NOT WANT TO TAKE THE TIME TO TYPE THIS OUT, BUT IT IS FACT CHECKED AND WHAT NOT! PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME CREDIT OR WHATEVER FOR TYPING IT! hehe…anyhoo-

-Malachai Abilities:

Demon Glamour: Nick, due to being born from a race that were the consorts and soldiers to the dark gods, has extreme charisma and very good looks.

Demon Summoning: Nick was capable of summoning Caleb to an alternate universe and back again.

Divination: Nick has a talent for scrying. This means that he can see the past, present, and future on any reflective surface, though he seems to favor his black scrying mirror.

Empathy: The Malachai, being a creature born of hatred, has empathy so that it knows how to emotionally destroy his enemies. Nick uses this ability subconsciously to help his friends.

Enslavement: Nick is capable of enslaving a demon by saving his/her life. He accidentally did this to Zavid.

Eternal Enslavement: Nick is capable of tying an enslaved demon’s geish (or essence) to his powers, meaning that the demon will always be enslaved to whoever has his powers. Adarian did this to Caleb.

Eye of Ananke Absorption: By absorbing the power in the Eye of Ananke, Nick is now able to see all possible futures, instead of only seeing what is available in the Ether.

Fate god: Nick is capable of using the Eye of Ananke, something only fate gods are capable of doing.

Fear Factor: Malachai demons are the most feared of all demonkyn.

Elemental Control: Darkness Darkness Generation: Nick is capable of controlling the element of Night (through Noir). This allowed him to defeat Alternate Thorn with ease.

Electrokinesis: Nick is capable of creating lightning bolts.

Fire Blasts: Nick has the ability to produce extremely powerful balls of flame. These seem to function similarly to God-bolts and can disintegrate a Dramonk with a single hit.

Emotion Feeding: Nick grows stronger when in the presence of hatred and malice. When he went to prison his power increased.

God-killer: Nick is a god-killer in the sense that he is capable of killing gods without destroying the universe.

Healing: When Nick first tapped into his demonic heritage, his gunshot wound healed instantly. He also seems to be capable of healing others, such as when he healed Little Simi in the alternate universe.

Hidden Fate: Fate gods are incapable of using their innate abilities to see Nick’s true fate. When Acheron looked into Nick’s future, he saw Nick happily married with children instead of his Malachai heritage.

Immortality: Nick is immortal in the sense that he will never age. Though he could be killed by severe trauma, this is highly unlikely as it will upset the balance of the universe.

Immunity: The Malachai is immune to Chthonian powers as well as Acheron’s ability to make people desire him.

Languages: Nick has the ability to understand and speak any language. This extends to the Primal Language, which most high-level gods don’t know.

Lie Detection: Nick is implied by Ambrose to have this.

Magical Physiology: Nick’s blood, bones, and organs are magical by nature and can be used in several dark spells, such as when Xenon used some of his blood to send Devus’s master away.

Malachai Form: Nick is capable of unleashing his inner demon. In this form he has indestructible armor, claws capable of ripping enemies to shreds, fangs, vastly increased strength, speed and reaction time, and wings.

Mind Control: Nick is able to directly control the minds of others. This is seen in Instinct, where he confused the paramedics as well as the police officers.

Necromancy: Nick was capable of destroying the zombies the Mortents raised with a simple incantation and it has been said that once he receives enough training, he would be capable of restoring a soul from Azmodea, something that is said to be Jaden’s specialty.

Omniscience: Due to his connection to the ether, Nick can be considered omniscient with him being able to know anything at any given time.

Perspicacity: Nick can see through all disguises. The first time this ability manifested, he was capable of seeing Acheron in his “Harbinger” form, something even other gods are incapable of doing.

Pith Point Moving: Nick is capable of moving Pith points, something the Arelim (guardians of Time and Order) believe to be impossible. It is possible that he inherited this power from Jaden, seeing as Jaden does believe it to be possible.

Poisonous Blood: Nick’s blood is poisonous to Arelim.

Power Absorption: Nick can absorb the power of other beings by drinking their blood.

Presence Shielding: Nick can hide what he is to the extent that he appears human from others. This power works on Chthonians, demons, gods and psychics.

Realm Traveling: Nick can punch a hole between dimensions. He did this to travel from Agonia to his apartment.

Shapeshifting: The Malachai can theoretically assume any form that he wants. Adarian was able to pose as a 13-year-old schoolboy and later a middle-aged convict despite being thousands of years old.

Silkspeech: Nick can manipulate others using this power. It works by targeting aspects sensitive to others, such as when Zarelda used it on Nick by preying on his low self-esteem.

Spell Casting: Nick was capable of exchanging Devus’s soul with the girl Devus killed to make a deal with his master. He was also capable of summoning Menyara from a hell-dimension.

Super Strength: Malachai demons are incredibly strong, capable of overpowering gods, even the primary ones, with ease. Adarian used to tear lesser demons to shreds with his bare hands.

Supernatural Awareness: Nick can sense the presence of other supernaturals with ease, such as when he sensed Kaziel (something neither Caleb nor Xev was capable of doing).

Telekinesis: Nick can move things with his mind. His control of this ability, as of Invision, is weak at best.

Teleportation: Nick can instantly travel to any location.

Temporal Awareness: Nick can sense when someone is altering time. He can also see any changes made to the timeline, seeing as he remembers both the altered and the unaltered timelines.

Sephiroth Abilities:

Burning Light: Whilst trapped in Azmodea without his Malachai powers, he destroyed a portion of Noir’s forces by becoming engulfed in light. Since Malachais are creatures of darkness, it can be assumed that this stems from his Sephiroth heritage.

Healing: Malachais are incapable of healing, so it can be assumed that Nick’s ability to heal Little Simi stems from his Sephiroth heritage.

Other Abilities

Courage: Nick is capable of overcoming his fears and stand up to beings like Acheron, Noir and Thorn.

Indomitable Will: Nick is capable of maintaining silence under torture (as seen in Illusion when Alternate Acheron made him fight in gladiatorial-like matches against an Aamon).

Intelligence: Nick’s intelligence has been commented upon by numerous characters throughout the series. He got perfect scores on the admittance test to St. Richard’s, which is a very prestigious school.

——END FOR NOW——

If you didn’t take the time to read all that, I understand. BUT DO YOU GET IT NOW?

Notice the words SEPHIROTH POWERS above. That’s right. He’s not just a demon. He’s not just annoying and stubborn. HE’S ALL OF THE ABOVE.

Not so unreasonable for “no reason” anymore, huh? If you still think he’s an A-hole, I get it still. He really REALLY can be. But he can also, and should be according to history, be a billion times worse.

More to come later, but this post is hellaciously long enough.

[allthatdivides]

(Writer anon))) Thomas Sanders but like the sides like Moxiety (virgil and Patton yeet))) bc I'm even more sad rn I wanna just cry

Alright anon, do I have a piece for you. At first, I was going to do hurt/comfort because I’m a softie and I love my boys but I went a little crazy with the angst part (1300 words) so idk if you want any more. If you do want the comfort part, I will gladly oblige, just shoot me an ask my friend. However, here’s the angst you’ve requested:

Misspoken

Virgil leaned against the wall of the sitting room, growing gloomier by the second. It seemed that any sound made him angry, and anyone speaking added to the fire of his fury. Even Patton’s soft singing floating in from the kitchen made him want to scream. Of course, this only got worse with Princey sneaking quips at him every chance he got.

           “And then good ol’ All Time Low-self-esteem over here shows up and sees me spill the lemonade, takes a video and posts it on his Tumblr! Like, I was originally resisting the urge to compliment his swiftness whilst getting out his phone, but the damage he’s caused!” Roman dramatically raved on. Patton continued singing, and Virgil was so angry he felt as though he might cry, and he was beating himself up about it. How could he be mad at Patton? Over nothing?

           “His post, however, gave you a short burst of internet fame and your YouTube channel gained subscribers drastically, even though his short video and your musical content have nothing in common,” Logan pointed out, unintentionally putting up a fight for Virgil. Even though Logan was defending him, however, Virgil still found Logan’s usually calming voice to be incredibly annoying. Tears pricked at his eyes as Patton switched tunes.

           “Well, yes…” Roman agreed to Logan’s statement, searching for something to justify his complaining. “However, it isn’t how I would have liked to become popular online. As you said, the popularity I gained because of our Panic! At the Black Parade had nothing to do with my music! These followers and subscribers aren’t here because they appreciate my skill, they’re here because they laughed at me spilling a cold drink down my shirt!” At that, Virgil decided he should leave before the tsunami of his rage came pouring out for no reason, threatening to appear from his eyes or his vocal chords. With a loud huff, he stalked out of the room and upstairs to his chambers, slamming the door behind him. As he left, he heard Roman loudly wondering about what was up, and Patton stopped singing. That hurt Virgil even more.

           Of course, he knew exactly what was going on. He was experiencing a sensory overload, and he needed more than anything to get away. He wanted to scream and cry and he needed to control his breathing immediately. He sat on his bed in the dark, breathing and breathing but to little avail. He managed to soothe himself slightly, but he still felt angry, so, so angry. He wanted to kick a wall and to punch something, but also to just shake with rage while he curled into a ball.

           An outlet… He needed an outlet. He turned on a small lamp and walked frantically in circles around his room. Nothing loud, nothing dangerous, nothing obvious. Suddenly he grabbed his sketchbook off the floor and swiped everything else off his desk onto the floor except a light, making his room messier and making him angrier. He threw the book down, open to a new page, and slid his chair in with a squeak that made him want to break his pencil in half.

           He began to draw. Secretly, Virgil was quite incredible at drawing. It was one of the things that helped with his intensity. He could let some of it out onto a paper, bring it into the world, and if needed, rip it up and take it back out. He was about finished with his sketchbook, but on one of the last few pages he began to draw the one thing his mind wouldn’t seem to let go of; Patton’s singing.

           Patton’s singing hadn’t made him mad directly, it made him want to cry. He wanted to weep because he was just so angry and how could he be angry at Patton? It made him more and more angry at himself. He drew quickly, not bothering to erase anything. He used a charcoal pencil and smudged his work at every turn. He was frantic, it looked almost as if he were scribbling, but he had drawn Patton beautifully. It was Patton, and he was laughing, but Virgil wasn’t in the mood for laughter. He put an “X” over his eyes and added darker undertones to the piece. It looked like one of those corrupted “dark sides” of a person edits one could find online. He drew darker and darker things, smudging them into one another. He drew shadows, angry words. He wrote how he felt about himself as if it were coming from Patton. “Worthless” “Stupid” “Annoying” and “A waste of space” were there among others. Virgil found himself crying while he drew, his tears staining the paper and adding to the cloudy effect the charcoal made on it.

           Before he knew any time had passed at all, he heard a knock at the door and Patton’s voice along with it. It was Patton, and he was so focused on his work that he said “Come in” without thinking. As the door opened, Virgil panicked, but too slow he started going back on his words. Patton had stuck his head in the door first, and walked in second, meaning he had ample time to see Virgil’s drawing. Usually Virgil’s vent art was sad and angry, so he was already scared of anyone seeing, especially since the other sides didn’t know he could draw. But, looking down at his work, he finally registered why Patton’s face was painted with hurt.

           “V-verge?” Patton asked, tentatively. Virgil was in full panic mode, but realized he couldn’t show it. He needed Patton out, and fast. His breathing hitched as he spoke.

           “Leave, Patton,” he grumbled, softly. Trying to sound as rigid and angry as possible.

           “B-but, kiddo…”

           “I’m not your son!” Virgil suddenly yelled. “I’m not your ‘kiddo’!” The hurt Virgil caused Patton amplified on his countenance, and he looked down as he took a breath.

           “O-oh. Okay, k-… Virgil. I’ll just… go then,” he said. When Patton looked up, Virgil could see tears brimming his eyes. Patton quickly shut the door and left Virgil to be consumed by his guilt.

           After Patton left, Virgil first tended to his breathing, which seemed to be awaiting an “Out of Order” sign. He did the breathing exercise. He did it again. Twice more, three times. After at least five minutes had passed he could finally get air comfortably into his lungs. His relief was short-lived, however, for as soon as he could breathe he began to cry again.

           Hot, heavy tears streamed down his face as he loudly gasped for air. He sobbed violently, so much so his stomach began to hurt, and he grew nauseous. He told himself bad things, horrible horrible things. Things that he would never tell anyone about, even Patton. Oh god, Patton. Virgil slid off his chair and hugged his knees on the floor. The others would hate him. How could he say such a thing to Patton? The only one who had ever been nice to him. Patton probably hated him now, too. Or even worse, Patton would blame himself. Patton would wonder what he did wrong. He would search through the days, wondering how he could have caused this to happen.

           But, the truth is, nobody could ever hate Virgil more than he could hate himself.

           Virgil wanted to do terrible things, as well. He had urges he couldn’t act on, thoughts he couldn’t entertain, and so he let it out in his sobs. Screaming, gasping sobs that echoed in his cave-like room. Virgil cried until there were no tears left. He cried until he felt numb. He shook from the effort he put into his sobbing, and he leaned back against the wall until he passed out from the exhaustion.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 10 - Always Watching

Author’s Note: Holy hell, was this insane to write X_X

A few things. Firstly, I apologize for how long it took for this to come out. I was incredibly anxious about school, plus I was just overly struggling with writing this chapter. I had a general idea of what I wanted to happen, but I didn’t really know how to get it down into words.

Secondly, this came out as about 18 pages long in Word so I apologize for how ridiculously long this is! I didn’t think it was going to come out so damn long!

And thirdly, this chapter is heavy on the angst. There’s a little bit of horror – of course – but this chapter is mainly angst-ridden so prepare for a LOT of feels! For Christ’s sake, I CRIED while writing this, so that should be saying something.

WARNING: This chapter is very heavy and is incredibly dark. There are mentions of suicide, abuse (both physical and mental), bullying (mainly cyberbullying), existential crisis, self-mutilation, and incredibly low self-esteem. There are mentions of a character getting lobotomized. There is a scene with a detailed description of the inside of a character’s back, which contains abnormal anatomy.

I will say this and I will say this one: This is NOT a happy fun time chapter! (I know, the story as a whole isn’t happy, but this chapter is VERY heavy on the angst as opposed to the other chapters) There ARE feels.

You have been warned.

Enjoy!

(I am SO sorry. I feel so bad for writing this! ;^;)

Listen to this playlist while reading.

 Wheezing breaths of agony echoed throughout the room as he operated. Warm sticky crimson spurted onto his naked lanky fingers – the very fingers of which were maneuvering the stainless steel instrument through his patient’s skull. A pained gasp expelled from the man upon the bloodied table.

“Oh be quiet.” The glitching entity hissed with agitation. “Stop your whining.” He scoffed. “You act as though you’ve never felt pain before.” A delighted giggle came ringing out of the creature’s slit throat. “Almost like you’re afraid of dying.”

A quivering whimper could faintly be heard coming from his patient as he fiddled with the orbitoclast. The green-haired demon smirked from behind his surgical mask.

“I must say, Herr Doktor,” He said in a horrible German accent, mocking the man, “you should be proud of me. I’m no doctor, but I seem to be doing an impeccable job here, if I do say so myself.” He bragged, his smirk stretching into a twisted smile.

The ice pick sank in further, a trail of blood running out onto the demon’s fingertips. A sharp intake of air, followed by a shaky sob left the patient; the entire mass of flesh jolting and tensing up against his restraints. The overhead light flickered as the sinister being growled through his teeth out of annoyance.

“For fuck sake, stop it! This is delicate work – you of all people should know that!” He snapped sharply, though he ironically gave the pick a violent tap; jabbing the inside of the man’s skull.

It only made the tortured man release a loud moan of unbearable agony, a trembling hand pulling weakly at its bond and trying to reach out for the figure leering over him. After a brief moment, the struggling died down and a faint shaky whine slipped out. The demon chuckled, continuing with his ministrations.

“You see? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? I told you that you could handle the pain.” The creature’s head gave a sudden twitch to the left, then the right, before returning his cold eyes to his patient. He grinned. “If I can bear with it, so can you. Anesthesia is fOr ThE wEaK!” In seconds flat, the entity’s form glitched out spastically; the grin gone and replaced with a grimace of anger, trying to make a point. Almost as quick as it had happened, the toothy smile returned, accompanied with a horrifying cackle of glee.

Another weak whine left the pained patient.

“Trust me, my friend, zhis is for your own good.” The manifestation grinned mockingly, using the exact same words the doctor had said to him when he had been operated on back on October 29th.  “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix you right up.” He expelled a useless breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He chuckled lightly before his being glitched out; his facial expression almost immediately falling flat. “I’m going to fix you all.” He hissed softly under his breath.

The poor man upon the table suddenly jerked, a strained gasp of pain getting ripped out of his vocal cords. Anti growled, put off with how uncooperative his patient was being.

“Oh come on, give it a rest already! Get ahold of yourself! You’re not dying!” He mumbled the next few words with promise. “Not yet anyway, but I don’t get to choose the outcome. You should be so lucky.” He wedged the pick in further, showing no remorse towards the man when he writhed and released a choked breath.

As the twisted imposter of a doctor carried on with the operation, getting blood smeared all along his pale digits, he began to yet again find himself slowly but surely sinking into the hatred he held towards the community. No one knew how he felt, not truly anyway. Everyone automatically assumed the unstable creature was just a monster, and as such, he behaved like one. But he was only like that thanks to his creators – they were the ones who gave him life and made him what he was. If they hadn’t wanted a monster, then why hadn’t they done anything to “fix” him? Why hadn’t they taken action when they had had the chance? Anti stared down at his handy work, dark eyes unblinking as the anger started to weave throughout his veins.

“They’re making me do this. They would say otherwise, I know they would. They’re all deceivers – monsters like me, although much worse.” An insidious giggle rang throughout the operating room, sending cold chills down his patient’s spine. “They don’t give a shit about any of us. They can’t seem to make up their damn minds on anything.” He chuckled, although given what he was talking about, it was an incredibly unnerving chuckle. There was nothing but fury and hate behind it. “And they have the audacity to go and point fingers at me and call ME the monster, the true villain in all of this? HA!” He jabbed the orbitoclast rather unexpectedly, instantly getting a horrific reaction out of his tortured patient. He glowered down at the man, his abyssal orbs growing darker and colder than what was already possible.

“They have no idea what they’ve done to me.”

                                                           * * * * *

  It was not long after Halloween when the demon had begun to notice the changes in his audience. After Anti had “killed” Jack in front of the still recording camera and finally took possession of the Irishman’s body, the glitching entity just had to go and upload the footage to YouTube two days later. After all, Jack himself had wanted to make a Halloween video for the fans; he had even teased them about it with the brief recording he had posted on Instagram. As Anti saw it, he was doing the man a favour. And of course, just as he had expected, after that video was released, the entire community went up in flames. Everyone freaked out – both out of equal amounts of delight and fear. Many actually believed Jack had in fact died and that Anti had taken over, and the insidious manifestation could only laugh out of amusement, applauding those few who knew the truth. He had been so gleeful to see his creators’ reactions, taking in just how shell-shocked they each became and how they all screamed his name. It was almost a surreal experience; the demon couldn’t quite contain his happiness.

However, though he was now the one in control, he knew his fans were going to suspect that he was the one inhabiting Jack’s body. And though that was true, he figured he’d have a bit of fun with them all. He would instead put on a deceitful act and pretend to be everyone’s favorite green-haired Irishman. It was time for him to put all of the training he had done over the past couple of months to good use. He would wear a mask and act like nothing had happened, and that’s exactly what he did.

A delayed video was posted hours later of him explaining what had happened during October leading up to Halloween. The glitch definitely put on a seamless act. The way he spoke, the way he acted, the joy and optimism and excitement gleaming in his blue eyes, the positivity radiating off of the man – it was all far too perfect. There wasn’t any way anyone would conclude it wasn’t Jack speaking in front of the camera. The unhinged trickster came up with a convincing lie off the top of his head, telling his audience how everything had just been one big act for Halloween. Anti wasn’t real, it was just Jack pretending to be an evil demented version of himself out to kill him. It was all just a scary idea he had had for the Halloween season – he wasn’t dead.

And the fandom believed him. They fell for his two-faced lies, each individual word sliding off of his wicked tongue and twisting his creators’ beliefs. They had all bought into his seemingly innocent fable. Some were confused, some didn’t know what to believe anymore, but all of them knew deep down that Jack was perfectly fine and he was only embracing the character of Anti…right?

For a time, the glitching entity had been very pleased with his ways of deception, how he managed to warp every single member of the community into believing he was in fact everyone’s good ol’ Jackaboy…that was until he began to take notice of how little attention he himself was receiving.

Sure, after his appearance on Halloween, a ton of fan art, fanfiction, and posts about him had been produced. There was no denying the fact how all of it had given him immense strength and power. However, given how he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t – someone the entire fandom had adored – he realized with a horrendous hybrid of surprise and perplexity that the community was once again returning there attention onto Jack. They all seemed to be relieved at the fact that he was alright and unharmed, that he hadn’t actually died. They were grateful he was alive, and Anti didn’t understand why. Hadn’t they wanted him to cut the man out of the picture? Hadn’t they wanted him to replace the pathetic Irishman and give them a far more superior being to look up to?

As the months passed away and autumn faded into winter, the demented creature began to truly notice the difference in the community’s behavior. He was slowly but surely becoming forgotten by his own creators. Granted, there were still pieces of fan art and fanfiction floating about here and there on social media, but other than that, their main focus was no longer on him; it had been shifted back onto Jack and it appeared to be staying that way. And though he tried to convince himself otherwise, Anti firmly believed that his fans only thought of him as a one-time thing – that he had had his one chance to steal the limelight and now that it had passed, it was time to move on. And the demon was not at all pleased with this.

The minute he had noticed the change in the fandom, Anti had stormed off into the darkened hell where he kept his host caged up and went off on a long-winded rant about just how confused and enraged he was for suddenly being ignored and accused of being a “one-time thing”.

“What? A ‘one-time thing’?” The green-haired Irishman had questioned from behind the searing-hot bars of the cell. He shook his head slowly, not entirely understanding. His alter ego was speaking so quickly, he could barely keep up. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to not understand? They see me as a one-time thing! A side-show act!” The manifestation snapped with a glitch of his head.

“Well what did you expect? You’ve been pretending to be me all this time.” Jack stated simply. “They think I’m perfectly fine and that it was all just an act. They don’t really think you exist, and you’ve made them believe that.”

“Shut up! They know I exist, I know they do!” His body spasmed for a fleeting moment as he paced the room. “And yet…” He chuckled lightly in disbelief, “And yet, they’re acting like nothing had happened. Like everything that had led up to Halloween – all of my sudden appearances – meant nothing.” He whirled around and locked his eyes onto the man in the cage. “It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me completely.” He scoffed, a petite smile flashing across his face in the blink of an eye. “They haven’t forgotten about me completely, thank fuck for that. But…But they’re my creators, damn it!” He flared, his entire form twitching and jerking, struggling to remain stable. “They created me, they brought me to life, and I gave them a show! So why aren’t they giving me attention?”

With no warning, one moment he was a few feet away from the cell and the next, he was suddenly standing right in front of the bars, slamming his hands against them with a violent bang. Jack’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the action, stumbling backward and nearly catching himself off balance. Anti’s glacial cold orbs bored deep into the Irishman’s soul, hissing harshly through his teeth.

 “Why do they like you more than me?!” He demanded, fingers tightening around the bars.

Collecting himself and swallowing down any fear he held towards the creature, Jack straightened up and broadened his shoulders. He refused to show any fear or let Anti have the upper hand in this. He glared at the entity from the other side of the bars, his hands balling up into fists at his sides.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a monster.” The Irishman seethed. “Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate for attention that I’ve resorted to hurting or killing anyone. Maybe it’s because I actually have a heart and give a damn about the community as a whole as opposed to being a selfish asshole who only cares about their self.” He spat. “Whether they created you or not, it doesn’t matter. You have control over your actions – you can change your ways – and yet you decide not to. You instead choose to be a wretched monster that’s out to cause carnage and misfortunate for others.”

Jack took a few slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving the insidious being staring back at him. He shook his head, scowling at the demon with a look of disgust.

“You haven’t changed…and you never will.”

Anti felt a pang in his chest at hearing what his counterpart said. He growled in anger, his head twitching violently from left to right as a projection of himself flickered, one of him yanking viciously on his hair with his face scrunched up in frustration as opposed to agony. He cocked his head to the side in an unnatural way, reminiscent of the movement of a small bird’s own head. A layered inhuman giggle came bubbling out of his forever blood-gushing throat.

“You think I can change my ways? You honestly think I can change?” A terribly awful laugh erupted from him, succeeding in striking a descent amount of fear into his prisoner. He shook his head vigorously, a grin plastered on his face, even though it was plainly obvious he wasn’t happy. Admittedly, it unnerved the Irishman to a degree.

“Your ‘precious’ community holds the power over me. They are the ones who made me the way I am. I didn’t get a say in the matter! Hell, I didn’t ask to be made. I DiDn’T aSk tO Be GiVEn LiFe!” He unexpectedly lashed out, the grin vanishing from his face in an instant and an animalistic-looking grimace taking its place. His body seemed to stutter and lag for a moment before resuming its movement, twitching and glitching out every few seconds. It was evident the creature was having a hard time controlling his anger.

Jack jumped back in alarm, having not expected the sudden outburst. However, though it had momentarily startled him, the YouTuber still stood his ground. Before he could even think over the situation and come up with a calm and collected solution like he would normally do, he found himself consumed by an overwhelming wave of rage, and the next few words came flooding out of his mouth – words he would later regret ever saying.

“Well if you don’t want to be alive, then why don’t you kill yourself?!” He snapped, glaring daggers at the entity.

Another pang came from within the glitch’s chest, and this one hurt far more than the previous one.

“You keep complaining about how you were created and how everyone is ignoring you and not giving you attention. You’re like a child – a whiny brat who can’t get what they want when they want it, and it’s just sad.” The Irishman continued, not holding back. “You say that the community is responsible for you – that they’re the ones who created you and brought you into this world. And even though they’re essentially like your parents, they don’t seem to care about you.” He leaned forward. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason they don’t care about you is because of the way you came out?”

Yet again, another painful pang.

“Maybe you were meant to only be an idea, NOT an actual existing creature.” He hissed. “You’re like Frankenstein’s monster – you were pieced together from scratch. Maybe you were meant to come out differently, but instead, came out as this…this thing.” He said with such distaste, the entity visibly winced. Jack kept his eyes fixed on his alter ego, nothing but anger in his eyes, and yet...there was something else there also. Unfortunately, Anti was unable to see it.

“An abomination…That’s what you are.” The man shook his head slowly. “You’re an abomination…and nobody wants you.” His nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath, trying to keep his hatred at bay. He scoffed. “You know…I’m known for being a reasonable guy. I like to think that I am caring, I can see the good in people, and that I can and will accept anyone for who they are, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation – I don’t give a fuck.” He spat. “And over the last two months, I had really thought that maybe – just maybe – that all of this would come to an end.” He was saying it with such sincerity, like he had genuinely hoped things would’ve changed. “That maybe there was some good in you, and you would let me go, and everything could go back to normal. I was willing to accept you for who you are, but now…”

He trailed off, bowing his head and glancing down at the concrete ground, shaking his head. “I was a fool for ever thinking that way…There is no good in you, I finally see that...” He lifted his head and locked eyes with Anti, tugging on his chains as he took a step forward. “You were never meant to exist, Anti. You’re a mistake, and THAT is why they don’t care about you. You weren’t planned. Get that through your head.”

A raw, dead silence came without welcome. The unhinged creature stood there, unblinking eyes staring directly at his host, but the anger he had been feeling – the countless questions that had been tormenting him – all of it seemed to dissipate at hearing what the green-haired man had to say. Never had the demon heard such cold, harsh words leave the man’s lips. Jack had always been known as a pure caring soul, one who rarely ever looked down on anyone unless there was an honest-to-God good enough reason. And for the last two months, the Irishman had tried to see past the glitch’s monstrous exterior. With each day, he had hoped and prayed for the day the demon would come into the room and release him, claiming it to be one big misunderstanding. But that day never came. Time and time again, Anti had been merciless and took great joy in taunting the YouTuber, not at all caring for his feelings. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing his prisoner in a helpless state. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Jack finally opened his eyes to the truth: Anti was a monster and that’s all he’d ever be – there wasn’t an ounce of good in him.

Anti stood there unmoving, the glitchiness of his body faltering and ever so slightly managing to calm down a bit. It may have been hard to tell, but through Jack’s eyes, it almost appeared like the entity’s facial expression had dropped. His body may have been tense and he may have been gripping the bars tightly, but his eyes…there wasn’t a sliver of anger anymore, nor was there perplexity. Those feelings were gone, and in their place, something else took over – something much more haunting. His eyes seemed much darker, but not from the ugly emotions he’d been consumed by a moment ago.

No…this was something else entirely…

If the Irishman didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he was staring into the eyes of a damaged creature. The body language may have made Anti give off the appearance of a deadly predator ready to go in for the kill, but his eyes were a different story. Jack felt like he was staring into the soul of a wounded animal, and for a brief moment, he almost pitied him.

Nevertheless, within seconds flat, the hurt he’d seen fogging up the demon’s onyx orbs cleared away and the fury he’d had before returned with a cruel vengeance; a feral growl crawling out of the creature’s throat. Anti shook his head, his form beginning to twitch and jerk violently once again. Versions of him flickered every few seconds, one or two of him grinning sadistically and cackling wildly.

“No…You’re wrong. They do care about me deep down – they must!” He unexpectedly giggled with an unnerving amount of glee. He shrugged, extending his arms out to either side. “Why else would they have created me?” He pointed an accusing finger out at the Irishman. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to test me – see if I have any ‘feelings’.” The abomination said it as though it was a repulsing concept. “Nice try there, Jackie but it ain’t going to work.” His body spasmed momentarily before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the bars of the cell. A horrible toothy grin spread from ear to ear across his face.

 “Mark my words, Jackaboy, I’m going to prove you wrong about your ‘loving’ community.” He giggled darkly, lines of pixels scattering across his face at a blurring speed to reveal an expression of pure unadulterated hatred and loathing. His voice dropped an octave or two as he glared at his host.

 “I’m going to give them a reminder of who’s really been around all this time. Then, and only then, will they open their eyes and see.” And without another word, he pushed himself away from the bars, whirled on his heel, and exited the room.

That had been back in early January.

Throughout January and February, the community’s creation continued to play the part of everyone’s favorite green bean; seamlessly pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to please his fans. However, it wasn’t until he began to play a horror game titled “Detention” when things began to take an unexpected turn of events. Unknowingly to the glitch, every couple of minutes into each video, the facecam would suddenly act out of sorts and someone would appear on screen for a second or two, most often looking directly at the camera with confusion, distress, or sometimes even fear. Unfortunately, Anti hadn’t found out about any of this until the videos had been uploaded and he was furious when he discovered what was going on. Without him knowing, Jack had been making energy-consuming attempts at trying to reach out to his audience and show them that he wasn’t the one in control. He was desperately trying to get the community’s attention, and though he succeeded, it only managed to raise a lot of questions amongst the fans. Glitches were associated with Anti, and thus, a majority of the fandom were convinced that Anti was coming back – even though, in truth, he had never left. No one could decipher whether the man shown in the glitches was Anti or Jack, and it was only frustrating both of the green-haired men.

Shortly after he had brought “Detention” to a close, Anti had gone and subjected his pathetic host to a relentless amount of pain. He had strangled him and beaten him into submission, all while venting out his unbridled rage until the man was a quivering mess at his feet, begging to be let go. It was at this point when Anti knew he had to take action, he had to do something to get the community’s attention back onto him – the REAL him. But how? What could he possibly do? It’d have to be bigger than what had happened on Halloween. Something that everyone could see, something that would never be forgotten, something –

And then it hit him like an oncoming truck: PAX. He knew that Jack attended the convention every year; taking the time to meet his fans in person and giving them all a time to remember. The next one was supposed to be coming up in three weeks, and it only made a grin come to the demon’s face. That was it – that’s how he’d get everyone’s attention once again. What better a way to give his makers a reminder than while at a live event?

Leading up to the weekend of PAX, the entity had gone through the trouble of putting together an introductory video for his panel. For the first minute or so of the video, he pretended to be Jack; welcoming everyone to the panel, only to then announce how he had an idea – a game – that he wanted to try out with the audience. He then proceeded to explain himself, stating how they were all going to record a message of sorts using a phone, a camera, or an iPad. The entire thing seemed innocent enough; there was no need to be suspicious of his behavior. Jack was the one speaking after all, and who wouldn’t trust the precious bean? Surely he had something exciting planned. Everything was going well until it wasn’t. The screen would start to glitch out, some of the audio would cut out or become laced with static – clear signs that something was very wrong and that “Jack” wasn’t so alone. And suddenly, the screen cut to black. A series of clips from Jack’s videos flew by one after another at blurring speed before falling back into darkness. And then there was a chuckle…an eerie, childish chuckle that could easily give anyone and everyone a reason to be scared.

The screen glitched out and there he was in all his glory, finally showing his true self and giving everyone a shock. No one would expect him to show up at the panel, and as such, his message would be heard loud and clear. Throughout the remainder of the video, the unstable demon seemed to be a bipolar mess; it was hard to determine what his exact feelings were. One second he’d have a cheeky toothy grin stretched across his sickly pale face, giggling like a lunatic, and the next his expression would be contorted into a godawful grimace of pure annoyance and rage, seething through his teeth and acting a tad threatening towards his audience. His behavior was…off.

He wasn’t like he had been back in October. In October, Anti had been happy and delighted with what he had done. Granted, he had let some of his caged up anger seep out, agitated with how long he had had to wait to be released, but nonetheless, the creature had been overjoyed. He was proud of himself for having done what his creators had wanted…or at least, that’s what he’d thought they had wanted. And now…it was almost like his happiness was being forced, that the smiles upon his face were completely fake and he was struggling to keep any anger from showing. But Anti, being the unhinged entity he was, failed.

“Look at you all – just sitting there! You all thought I was gone!” He scolded, his head undergoing a horrible spasm attack; glitching from left to right. He pointed his knife at the camera angrily before leaning forward, a toothy grin coming to his face as he ran his delicate fingertips over the edge of the knife. “Not worrying about anything.”

He appeared to both look and sound rather pleased, even the cackle of delight that bubbled out of him was unsettlingly cheery. And yet, with a quick glitch of the screen, he was lifting the knife up to his neck in a menacing way, baring his teeth. His neck twitched and jerked out as he smiled.

“You all thought I was gone.” His voice unexpectedly dropped an octave at the last word, an indication that he wasn’t as pleased as everyone was led to believe at first. “But I’ve been here this entire time,” There was the cheeky expression once again; outstretching his arms and acting much like a young child who had just shown their parents a drawing they had worked hard on, “keeping an eye on things.” His eyes flickered blacker than black for half a second, his voice once more dropping an octave. The way he had said those words, accompanied with his inky orbs staring coldly at his audience, was rather disconcerting. Especially given how that face kept alternating with a much different one – one of twisted satisfaction, the signature Cheshire smile etched onto his face.

“You stopped paying attention!” He seethed through his teeth, a sliver of his built up rage hanging off of each word. He was smiling, yet he was evidently very put off with the community’s decisions. “Well I hope you’re happy.” He said it almost sincerely, like he was genuinely hoping everyone was in fact happy with what they had done. “You found someone new! Threw me aside!” Immediately, the smile had vanished in the blink of an eye, a scowl now in its place. He even jabbed an accusing finger at the camera, making his point.

“You found someone to replace me!” And just as quick as it had appeared, the entity was yet again smiling brightly; his head giving a fierce jerk before he locked his eyes onto the camera. It was up for debate on who exactly the creature was talking about, but Anti definitely knew, and that someone was slowly but surely becoming a weakened broken man behind a set of warm steel bars. Someone he absolutely loathed with every fiber of his being.

“I’m not going anywhere!” The abomination chirped, his voice reaching a higher pitch, nearly sounding like a giggle. His form glitched out to show him constantly moving back and forth in an unnatural way, like the creature was stuck in a state of limbo. “I’m always there – always watching.” He said it in both a teasing and threatening manner, his eyes cloaked in darkness as he raised his knife. He was going to make sure that every single one of them would remember he was there and how he was never going to leave – never.

It was around this point that if anyone listened closely, a very faint muffled “help me” could be heard, reminiscent of the one in the “Say Goodbye” video. However, unlike that one – which had been gushing with panic and horror – this one was the exact opposite. It sounded devoid of energy and hope, like the man who was calling out for help had been tortured relentlessly and was losing the battle. It almost sounded like the poor man was sobbing, desperate for someone to notice he was there. A sinister cackle followed his plea; the insidious monster sounding far too pleased with how helpless his prisoner was.

“You can’t get rid of me.” Anti growled menacingly, directing his knife towards the camera threateningly. His form began to spastically glitch out, shaking from the struggle he was having containing his anger. And with that, the screen blacked out. “Enjoy the show.”

When PAX came around – March 10th, to be exact – and the entity got to show the video, he watched from afar, hearing everyone’s alarmed reactions towards his unannounced appearance. He covered his mouth, having a hard time holding back his laughter. Good, they were finally coming to their senses and remembering he was still around. For the remainder of the event, however, Anti refused to let everyone know he was the one wearing Jack’s meatsuit. Because as much as he wanted to reveal the truth, he could hear Jack’s haunting words swirling in the back of his head, reminding him how everyone only thought he was an idea, not an actual existing creature. If he were to show his true self, there was no telling what would happen, so he decided to keep a low profile and slip back into the character of Jacksepticeye.

Everything seemed to be going well for some time in the community. For the rest of the month leading into April, all they could talk about was PAX and of how the glitching demon had unexpectedly shown up to the event, giving them a reminder he was always there, watching them. And of course, through this, Anti grew happy at receiving more attention. He was so thrilled, he was overcome with the temptation to go up to his host and rub in his face about just how wrong he had been. But unfortunately for the entity, the contentment was short-lived.

Just like what had happened back when he had shown himself on Halloween, Anti only received a vast amount of attention for a month or two before everything died down and he was pushed aside as a “one-time thing”. This time around was much different. While many were trying to decipher his message and who had been in control all this time, others were growing tired of the glitch. They seemed a tad bit annoyed, like he was a nuisance, which made Anti confused more than anything. Why were they all suddenly turning their backs on him? Any one of the other egos could show their faces and everyone would be smiling and laughing, pleased to see them. But if he showed his face, he got the opposite greeting. Everyone would either quiver in fear, snap at him to “fuck off and leave Jack alone”, or roll their eyes and huff an exasperated breath, not impressed. Admittedly, there were quite a lot of people who did in fact love the glitch and were always happy to see him, but Anti failed to see that; a crimson haze casted over his vision, only allowing him to notice the people who resented him.

The twitchy manifestation was at a loss for words. He couldn’t come up with a logical reason as to why so many people spited him. What could he have possibly been doing wrong? All he wanted was to be included into the circle, all he wanted was to be seen as an equal and loved and adored like all of the other egos who stood in his way. How come they got more attention than him? They didn’t get any more videos than he did, and yet, somehow, someway, they all received an insane amount of adoration. But with him – one glitch of the screen and the entire fandom would explode with every emotion except for one he longed for: love. And the demon wouldn’t admit it but it hurt him more than anything; more than any physical harm he could do to himself.

Sometime during May, Anti had isolated himself in a far off room in the void. He locked himself in the pitch-black room, pacing back and forth; tormenting himself relentlessly with what Jack had spat at him and whether any of his words had been true or not. He questioned himself over and over again about what he was doing wrong and why the community couldn’t accept him the way he was. He clutched his head, scrunching up his hair in his fingers and tugging harshly as he growled lowly out of frustration. His body was in a constant state of manifesting itself in and out of existence; jerking and pixelating, distorting all of his features.

“What am I doing wrong? What’s so special about all of those other fuckers? What do they have that I don’t?” He snarled venomously, his form lagging mid-step before resuming movement. “I thought they wanted me to be a real thing, I thought they wanted me to come into existence. Isn’t that what they wanted? But if that’s what they wanted, then why are they all dismissing me with ease, like I don’t exist? Why are they ignoring me?!” He huffed, his unnecessary breathing increasing in rate. He was beginning to sound rather exasperated, and if anyone could believe it, like he was a bit emotionally hurt.

“They’re my parents, for fuck sake! They made me who I am – why would they make me like this if they knew it would displease them?! What kind of sick joke is this?!” He flared, his figure glitching out to briefly show a projection of him strangling himself, the next of him cutting his already bleeding throat. He threw his arms out to either side. “I’m doing everything I can! Am I trying too hard? Am I not trying hard enough? There’s no pleasing those people!” A stuttering breath left his lips, his head giving a harsh jerk to the left; a loud audible crack coming from his neck. He was beginning to shake all over now, and it wasn’t from how unstable his form was.

“They’re…They’re supposed to love me…” He muttered under his breath, bringing his pacing to a halt in the middle of the black room. He stared down at the ground, shaking his head only to release a small giggle of disbelief. “But they don’t love me…They don’t love me at all.”

For three whole hours, the glitchy entity remained in that room, putting himself through a horrendous amount of mental agony. Pacing back and forth and glitching out from one part of the room to the next, the demon wallowed in his pain. He ended up collapsing to his knees, hanging his head in shame and burying his face in his hands. Icy cool droplets filled his dark eyes and ran down his cheeks, dripping down into his hands and leaking out through his fingers. No one would ever see this side of the creature – sadness and emotional pain such as this weren’t normal for the demon. He saw it as weakness, and as such, he would never show it. He would never admit to the heart-devouring pain he’d endure every single day caused by the community. He always stood up straight, put on a devious smile, laughed like a psychopath, and demonstrated the behavior of one too. He always came off as a merciless, deranged, inhuman abomination that felt no remorse or guilt. He was essentially heartless; he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. As far as anyone was concerned, he took great joy in seeing others suffer. Love wasn’t a concept he could understand – it was something he could NEVER learn.

But they were all wrong. Every single one of them was wrong about him. He DID have a heart, he DID care about what others thought of him. He DID want to be loved by not just the community but Jack and the egos as well. And yet, here he was, coming to terms with just how much he was hated by his so-called “family”.

Anti sat down in the furthest corner of the room, knees brought in close to his chest as he tugged at his hair; endless tears of hurt cascading down his face. Jack’s assumption had been right before – he had been looking at a wounded animal. The poor creature couldn’t pull himself together. He had been made to be unstable, and as such, any emotion he would feel, would become impossibly heightened to the tenth degree. There was no easy way out of this hell he was putting himself through, there was no way for him to calm down. He just sat there, letting the darkness consume him and allowing the sorrow to rip away at his heart horrifically.

 As though he were a broken record, Anti scolded himself, repeatedly asking himself what was wrong with him as opposed to what was wrong with the community. Maybe Jack had been right, maybe he was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have existed to begin with. Maybe the community did only like him as an idea versus as an actual existing entity. No one loved him, no one cared about him. He was just there as a joke for everyone to do with as they pleased. He was like a puppet having his strings tugged at, playing a part in their deceiving game. And the poor damaged manifestation was getting pulled apart at the seams at the thought.

This is what they had done to him.

They had cut out his heart and forced it down his throat.

He was dead inside.

                                                        * * * * *

 There he stood, hovering over his patient, lost in a state of memory. His hellish eyes, which had been clouded over with rage and hatred a second ago, now held pain and suffering. Those eyes were the eyes of a creature that had been beaten and abused horribly countless times over – the eyes of someone who had been through hell and back. And for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed like those eyes were beginning to water.

“Those fuckers…They ruined me.” He hissed softly under his breath, his fingers tightening around the orbitoclast currently wedged into his patient’s skull. He shook his head slightly, eyes unblinking. He was looking down at the man like he was expecting him to be sympathetic towards him. “All I ever wanted was to be loved…Was that so much to ask for? Was it that hard of a concept to grasp?” His voice was wavering, sounding like he was on the very verge of crying.

However, at hearing his patient let out a pained moan, Anti blinked and removed himself from his dreary reverie; the unhinged monster within returning to the surface. He smirked behind his mask.

“Nevertheless, who needs love? It’s overrated. Ain’t that right, Doctor?” He giggled as he twisted the steel instrument around, getting the man to produce yet another moan of unwanted agony. “You of all people should know that, what with how your pathetic family left you.” He scoffed. “Who needs them? They abandoned you! If they truly loved you, they wouldn’t have left, now would they?” He gave the orbitoclast a violent tab, a spurt of blood flying up into his face. His patient arched and let out a choked yelp at the searing pain. The demon’s smirk developed into a smile. “You should never hurt the ones you love…Never.”

 His patient went placid against the table, no longer moving or making useless attempts at escape. Anti noticed and chuckled, lightly slapping the bloodied man’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. All he received was a drawn out wheezing breath. Chuckling lightly, the sadistic creature tore his mask away from his face and tore the orbitoclast out of the man’s skull carelessly, not at all concerned whether or not he managed to damage something else. His patient jolted and groaned loudly, but didn’t struggle against his bonds or scream from the striking pain. Anti threw the ice pick off to the side somewhere before strolling away from the table, ridding himself of his surgical attire as he headed for the exit.

“Don’t get up, Doc. I’ll be back in a minute.” He said as he stormed out of the operating room. As soon as he left, his smile faltered. “I need to visit your creator.”

                                                           * * * * *

Back within the freezing cold hell, the green-haired Irishman was a shivering mess. He was on his knees where he had been standing not too long ago when he had yelled at Anti. His face was buried in his shredded up, blood-caked hands, crying out of fear for not just himself but of what Anti had done. Why had he left the room? He had said he was going to visit the doctor, and immediately, possible scenarios of gut-wrenching horror flooded the YouTuber’s head. What was Anti doing to Henrik? Was he torturing him? Was he getting him to do something completely obscene and wrong? Was he killing him? Jack choked on a sob at that last one.

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the front door burst open; lifting his head hesitantly to see his alter ego storm into the room. Before he knew what he was doing, Jack got to his feet and grasped the icy bars of the cell.

“What did you do?!” He wailed, loose tears running down his face. “What did you do?!” He repeated, both demanding and dreading an answer.

Anti frowned from where he stood, eyes fixed onto his prisoner. His arms flung out to either side of him. “I did what was necessary!” He snapped sharply, a bit put off with the Irishman’s whining.

He took a few steps forward, boring his dark soulless orbs into the crippled YouTuber. His body glitched out, his head jerking violently to the right; the slit across his throat seeming to stretch further at the motion.

“I did what I had to do!”

 He materialized, suddenly now having his back facing Jack. He pulled up his shirt, and while biting deeply into his bottom lip and letting loose a pained hiss, the skin of his back pixelated and was pulled back, revealing his spine to his host. There was crimson blood everywhere accompanied with some sort of sticky black sludge. There were veins and bits and pieces of his insides here and there that appeared as though they had had something severed from them; evident due to the holes scattered about and how some veins hadn’t been sealed off properly. All along his spine there were dark splotches and some kind of green residue there, almost as if something had once been attached to the creature’s spine.

Jack flung away from the bars and nearly screamed, a wave of nausea crashing over him and knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backward and instantly collapsed to his knees, keeling over as bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t hold back. He heaved violently and vomited, the sight of Anti’s insides far too revolting for him to stomach.

“Your ‘precious’ community made me do this, Jack.” The demented entity hissed with distaste. “They were always pulling the strings, ALWAYS the ones to twist and shape me however they pleased.” He scoffed, a giggle ringing out of his vocal cords as though this was all some fucked up joke to him. “They made me a joke. They dragged me along in their game, and I HAD ENOUGH!” He growled momentarily before the abnormally delighted smile returned to the creature’s paled face. “So…I got the ‘good doctah’ to sever the strings once and for all.” He cackled, shaking his head as his back closed back up and he lowered his shirt.

The Irishman raised his head, breathing heavily and having difficulty getting air into his lungs. His eyes were blown wide with horror, staring at his counterpart with disbelief like he couldn’t believe what the creature was saying.

“Oh my God, Anti, why?! Why?! Why would you - ?!” He got cut off, nearly choking on the left over bile in his throat. He groaned and hacked harshly, spitting it up. He sobbed softly and shook his head vigorously, fixing his lifeless eyes onto the demon. “You didn’t have to do that! Why the hell would you do that to yourself?!” He cried, like he wasn’t just horrified of what he’d discovered but also like he genuinely cared about the demonic entity’s wellbeing. “Why the FUCK would you mutilate your body – why would you go through something like that?!”

Anti slowly turned around to face him, no evidence of there having been a smile on his face a moment ago. He no longer looked amused or happy; there was nothing but anger and hate written in his eyes. His form was struggling to remain stable now, lines of static racing across his body here and there; jerking from left to right as he took a step towards the cage. He cocked his head and scoffed, like he couldn’t believe he had just heard the green-haired man ask him such a stupid question.

“You think I wanted this?” He asked in such a soft static-laced voice, it managed to send chills up Jack’s spine. “You think I really wanted to do this – that I wanted to have the one thing that made me who I am, the one crucial part of my being, torn out of my body without care like it didn’t matter?” He inquired, although the way he was phrasing the question didn’t sound like a question. It sounded as though he expected Jack to already know the answer. He shook his head slowly, staring at the Irishman with slight shock.

 “I did what had to be done and I don’t regret it.” He spat, even though his words came out a bit off, like he wasn’t telling the truth. “They can’t control me anymore.” He jolted forward, pressing his face into the bars of the cell. “I’m not their bitch, they’re mine. They are all my puppets now…and we’ll see how much they like to be strung about in a twisted game of pain and suffering.” His face glitched out, very briefly showing a different version of him, except this one was unlike any of the others Jack had seen before. Every time Anti’s form would become distorted, Jack would always see projections of him either displaying violent behavior or he’d be a terrifying laughing lunatic. But this time…there was none of that.

There was no uncontrollable anger, no frustration, no unsettling glee accompanied with chilling giggles.

There was only sadness, a look of hurt on his face as though he had been horribly beaten and was now a cowering mess. And though it had happened at a blurring speed, Jack could’ve sworn he had seen tears well up in the creature’s eyes.

Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly, remembering how earlier he had seen Anti in a similar vulnerable state – something he had never once seen come from the glitch before. Licking his cracked lips and letting out a raspy wheezing breath, the Irishman tried to talk some sense into the entity.

“Anti…D-Don’t…” He coughed harshly, a few drops of blood spluttering forth. He shook his head. “Y-You don’t want to do this…You…You’re wrong…about them.” He inhaled sharply, groaning as he felt a stinging pain in his chest. He hunched over and shifted around, attempting to get into a comfortable position. “Y-You…You don’t know them like I do.”

Anti kept his abyssal orbs locked on the Irishman, never once leaving his face. There was no telling what was going through the manifestation’s head; his expression was unreadable. One moment it looked like he was pissed off, the next it seemed flat like he didn’t care at all. He scoffed, the corner of his lips tugging up into a slight smirk that only lasted for half a second.

“No, you’re right. You’re right, I don’t know them like you do.” His head gave a violent jerk to the right, a loud crack emitting from his slashed neck. He bored his eyes into his prisoner, anger becoming the more dominant emotion now. “Because you’ve been strung along in their deceiving game. All this time, you’ve been led into believing that they care about you – that they care about any of us, for that matter – and because of it, you’ve been holding onto false hope for the day they save your ass.” He seethed, his words striking deep into the man’s heart.

“You need to wake up and realize they’re never going to save you, they are NEVER going to help you. They are the true monster in all of this. They all put on an innocent act and like they’re not at fault. But they are the ones to blame! They caused ALL of this to happen!” He unexpectedly slammed his hands against the bars, making Jack flinch and shuffle backward. The demon’s eyes became drenched in black, heavy shaky breaths of anger puffing out through his lips. “They don’t give a FUCK about any one of us, and it’s not until now that I’ve come to realize this.”

Jack shook his head in disagreement. “No…N-No, y-you’re wrong…Y-You’re mistaken, A-Anti…” He insisted, shivering from the cold. The room had gotten so cold, he could now see his own breath. Funnily enough, even though Anti was breathing, his breath wasn’t visible. The Irishman found it to be a rather odd observation. “Th-They do care. A-About me, about th-the others, and…a-and about you too.”

At hearing this, the glitch couldn’t contain his mirth and threw his head back, letting out a horrific laugh of delight. He locked his eyes back onto his host, a toothy grin on his cruel face, clearly not believing the man.

“Is that so?” He chuckled lightly. “Do you remember what you had said to me long ago, back in January?...Do you remember?” His grin was slowly but surely slipping away, fading down to a smile, then into what almost looked like a pained scowl. “Do you remember?” He softly whispered through the bars. “Do you remember what you said to me?” His voice, it sounded…strained, like he was struggling to breathe properly or something.

Jack’s brows weaved out of confusion, trying to recall what the demon was talking about. This damned room, he could barely think clearly. For Christ’s sake, he had had so much difficulty remembering what had happened in October. How was he supposed to remember what – ?

And then it all came at him full-force with no warning. Suddenly, the Irishman was able to notice the pain behind the creature’s fury, and his facial expression softened as he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt coil around his fist-sized organ of innocence and constrict it tightly. He began to feel tears returning to the surface, welling up in his eyes as he tore his gaze away from his alter ego. Anti groaned and pulled away from the bars.

“Oh for fuck sake, enough with the crying already! It’s getting to be annoying.” He bemoaned. “Come on, I haven’t even hurt you yet! What could you be possibly crying about now?!”

 Jack kept his head low in shame, shaking it as the tears threatened to tip over the edge.

“I…I-I…I’m sorry…” He whispered so softly, it could barely be heard. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sobbed, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, a look of pain coming upon his face. “I-I’m so sorry…I…O-Oh God…” He lifted his hands, covering his face as he cried.

Anti frowned. Normally he’d be amused at seeing his prisoner so broken up like this, but not today. He was in absolutely no mood for waterworks.

“Sorry? What the fuck are you babbling on about?” He banged against the bars. “Come on, speak up!” He snapped with annoyance.

The green-haired man gulped in what little air he could as he pulled his soaked hands away from his face, reopening his eyes.

“I…I-I’m so s-sorry, I…” He sniffled. “I-I had no…i-idea that you…” He stopped himself, taking a breather to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t work out as well as he had hoped. He shook his head in disbelief as the memories tormented him. “Th-Those words…Th-Those things I had said, Jesus Christ…” He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and cringing at the reminder. He bit his lip, trying so very hard to stop himself from crying. His bottom lip trembled as he struggled to speak. “I…I thought…I thought you were heartless…I-I th-thought that…that there was n-no good in you at all…I…I figured y-you were a…a…”

“A monster?” Anti answered so harshly, his body rippled violently.

Jack tensed up at the word and he immediately lifted his head to lock eyes with the demon. Wet lines of sorrow stained his cheeks and his eyes were red, sore from the countless times he had cried. He shook his head slowly, still shell-shocked by the haunting memory.

“I-I’m s-so sorry…I-I don’t know w-why I said th-those things…” He sniffled and nervously chuckled out of disbelief, like this had to be some sick joke of sorts. “I-I didn’t mean any of it…I…I-I didn’t know, I swear to God, I d-didn’t…” He sobbed, a few lone tears running down his face. “I w-was wrong about you, Anti…I-I was so wrong…I…” He swallowed his tears. “I-I was so blind to see that…that the one who truly n-needed help…th-the one who n-needed love…” He looked up at the creature with pleading eyes, hoping like hell that he believed his words, because none of them were lies. He was telling the honest-to-God truth, and it was ripping him apart. “w-was you…Th-That’s all y-you’ve ever wanted…Y-You’ve w-wanted t-to be a part of s-something…a-and w-we have f-failed you…” He cried, shaking all over not from just the cold but from the force of his crying. “I…I-I’m so sorry, Anti.” He whispered softly.

The unhinged abomination glitched out for a moment, standing there with his gaze fixed onto the quivering mess of a man named Jack. Like before, his face was unreadable. Jack couldn’t tell if he was enraged, annoyed, amused, happy, or something else entirely. For a split second, when the entity went to stand up straight, the Irishman had winced and whimpered, raising his arms to brace himself for any sort of act of violence. But nothing came. Instead, he heard the creature let out a shaken breath.

“I knew it…I knew this would happen.”

Blinking with confusion, the YouTuber lowered his arms just enough to glance up at the demon.

“You’re just as bad as them.” He hissed, his entire body glitching out to show a projection of himself crying out in anguish. “You don’t care – you didn’t before, and you still don’t. All of this,” He motioned at the man crying his eyes out in the cold dank cell, “is just an act, just an excuse – an attempt to try and win me over so I can release you from this hell. Well guess what? It’s not going to work, so drop the act. I’ve had enough of the lies from everyone.” He growled with such hatred, his head stuttered and twitched from left to right, struggling to keep his anger at bay.

Jack blinked, frowning with perplexity. “W-What? No…N-No, no, no. Y-You…” He coughed violently, “y-you think - ?” He shook his head, pushing himself up into a standing position and nearly falling over. He quickly steadied himself against the prison bars, his eyelids slipping shut tiredly before reopening them to look at the entity. “Th-This…This isn’t an a-act…” He coughed again, hacking harshly into one of his bloodied palms. “I-I am t-truly sorry, An-Anti…a-and…a-and the c-community…i-if they are th-the ones who…who c-created you…th-then they do care.”

Anti growled. “Lies.”

 “N-No…No, I-I know them…I-I know w-what they’re like…a-and…” He sucked in a breath, choking on it and heaving into his hand dryly. “u-ugh….mmgh…” He winced before standing up as straight as he could. “t-they do care…Th-Those jokes th-they make a-about you…” He shook his head, “th-they’re just jokes, th-that’s all…I-It’s what th-they do. H-Hell,” He scoffed, “th-they’ve m-made jokes about m-me and…and the others b-before…” He shrugged, licking at the tears that ran over his lips. “I-It’s j-just their w-way of showing th-their appreciation – th-their l-love.”

He coughed violently, nearly collapsing to the ground at the force of his coughing. He groaned in pain, his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing. He looked at Anti with exhaustion.

“P-Please…B-Believe me…Th-They d-don’t h-hate you, Anti…” He insisted in a pleading tone of voice, a lone tear running down his cheek. He shook his head. “N-No…No one has to get hurt…Y-You c-can…can be happy and l-loved…l-like you were m-meant to be.” He said weakly before sliding down to the ground with a thud, letting out a weak moan.

Through the dark, though his eyes had fallen shut for a brief moment, the Irishman made out a very faint sob. His eyelids were heavy with the longing to stay shut, but he forced them open to see the glitch’s face contorted into one of frustration. There was anger, hatred, and…and sorrow. There was pain – heart-aching pain, tears welling up in the hurt creature’s darkened eyes. His grip on the bars of the cell was so tight, Jack was almost afraid he was going to break them and charge into the cage to slaughter him. Lucky for him, that didn’t happen. His entire body was visibly shaking and not just from how he was glitching out constantly every few seconds. It almost seemed like the poor creature was fighting himself, like he was holding back on something. His bottom lip was trembling as he struggled to keep himself from showing weakness.

“R-Really?...Is that so?” The demon stuttered in a static-laced voice. And though he sounded beyond furious, he couldn’t hide the truth from the Irishman. He was hurting, and it was showing as clear as day. “Y-You think they all care?” A small sad smirk tugged at his lips as he outstretched a hand behind him. “Th-Then how do you explain these?” And with a snap of his fingers, a patch of darkness dissolved to show endless posts on Tumblr, YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter.

Jack squinted, dragging himself forward in a poor attempt to see well. His eyes widened a tad bit when he realized what each one was about. Every one of the posts was hateful and overly mean towards the glitch, and none of them were in a joking manner, even Jack himself could tell.

“Fuck off, Anti! Leave Jack and the egos alone!”

“Go away! We don’t want you here!”

“Look at him – he’s having a temper tantrum. He’s not scary, he’s just complaining about what he can’t have.”

“You people do realize this is all just an act, right? Anti’s not real, get over it.”

“Anti, why the hell are you here?”

“We need to get rid of Anti, guys! It’s the only way we’ll get Jack back! Who’s with me?!”

“Anti, it’s not Halloween yet! Go back to sleep!”

“Glitch Bitch!”

Every single comment or post was either making fun of the glitching entity or just straight up being hurtful in the worst way imaginable, such as telling him to go away and that he wasn’t wanted – that no one wanted to see him. No one knew it, but every one of the posts hurt the creature to a horrible extent, and Jack couldn’t blame him. He stared at the screen with appalment. These couldn’t be from his community, there was no way. He knew his fans and they were most certainly not this cruel – not towards him or the other egos, at least. And if Anti was their creation, then why the hell would they treat him worse than dirt?

Jack didn’t know what to say, and Anti could tell. He scoffed, the sad smirk still upon his face.

“Y-You see? You c-can’t even defend th-them.” He lowered his arm as the screen materialized, gone forever. “Th-They don’t care about me…I-I’ve always been j-just a nuisance to them – a-an object for th-them to toy with.” His form spastically glitched out all of sudden, a projection of him lurching forth; tugging at his head and bawling his eyes out, screaming out in pain. Jack gasped softly, pressing back into the bars behind him. Anti jerked his head. “I-I…I will n-never be loved…b-because th-that’s not the reason w-why I-I was m-made.”

The Irishman’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched Anti blink, a lone tear finally falling loose and running down the demon’s cheek. His bottom lip trembled more, having little to no control over his emotions anymore. Another tear fell from his eye.

“Th-They d-didn’t make me…b-because they w-wanted a s-son…T-They made me b-because…th-they wanted a m-monster…” He sobbed softly, his entire form vibrating and giving a violent glitch. And though his body was unstable, the creature’s voice remained rather quiet, like a murmur. He almost sounded human.

“Th-They w-want…a v-villain...th-that they can h-hate and f-fear…Th-That’s all they’ve ever w-wanted…f-from the start.” He shook fiercely, anger starting to come back with a vengeance; his voice becoming much harsher and more distorted. “S-So…if th-that’s what they w-want…i-if that’s w-what’ll please them…” He chuckled lightly, another cool tear racing down his face. His sad smirk morphed into a twisted ugly smile. “Th-Then that’s w-what I’ll give them.” He shook his head vigorously, licking at the salty tears over his lips. “N-No more…L-Love is t-truly dead…” He cackled. “F-Fear…” He hummed with bemusement, “is w-what’ll get th-there attention…p-permanently.”

 He pushed himself away from the bars and growled at himself, roughly wiping his eyes free of any more tears before turning on his heel to storm for the exit. Jack almost immediately scrambled to his feet, gripping onto the bars for dear life so he wouldn’t collapse again.

“W-Wait, wait, wait!” He croaked hoarsely, barely having any voice left in him. He reached his arm out through the cell, hoping Anti wouldn’t leave. There was no telling what the demon would do once he left. Hell, Jack still didn’t even know what Henrik’s fate had been!

“An-Anti, please!” He coughed dryly, his shoulders shaking. He was beginning to fall incredibly weak again, his eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion and the temperature of the room was only making it worse. “D-Don’t…” He gave one last attempt, one last plea before his knees gave out; collapsing to the ground and passing out cold.

Anti didn’t bother to look over his shoulder at the Irishman. He didn’t even retort back with a snarky taunting remark of sorts, the closest thing being, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

He wasn’t his usual self, and Jack had seen it with his own two eyes. It had been a long while since the entity had had a chance to vent out these painful emotions, but he had no time to lock himself away.

No…He couldn’t lock himself away…

But he could take his hurt out on someone else…

Part 9 - No Strings Attached

Part 11 - In Your Head

 @gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @darkcurious @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @n-o-ra-xi @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @randomcrystals @yourestillnotmytype-58

[the-l0st-s0ul-blog]

about me, the lost soul.

i thought i’d post a little about myself so you can begin to get to know me a little. my name is jay {short for my real name, which i’ve decided to keep sort of anonymous}. i live in the united states {ew}. i am 22 years old, so here are 22 facts about me..

1.} i’ve been diagnosed with {severe} depression, {severe} anxiety, and bipolar II. {a vast majority of which is due to the grief of losing many loved ones so closely together.} i also suffer from binge eating.

2.} i have a registered emotional support animal, a little black cat named kevin. you’ll see plenty of him, he is very special to me.

3.} i love movies and tv, a little deeper love than just watching. i like to look deeper into storylines and view things the way a director might, or when i find a show or movie i love, i’ll explore other works from the actors/actresses.

4.} i mentioned my cat, kevin. i also have a chocolate lab named gilbert, and a pretty red betta fish named steve.

5.} i still live with my parents and i currently do not have a steady job {due to mental illness}. i hate to admit that, but that is where i am right now. i have tried and still do, believe me..

6.} i enjoy cannabis, and am quite the glass enthusiast. it’s just amazing to me how differently constructed pieces can affect your high. plus, blown glass is so, so pretty.

7.} i {just barely} graduated high school. straight out of high school, i went to the university of iowa, where i only lasted a year due to good ol mental illness.. i later went on to try community college, but that didn’t work out either. although i did learn that i have quite the interest in psychology. in fact, the only college credit i have is from acing a psychology class.

8.} shopping makes me feel better. i wouldn’t say i’m materialistic though, most of my shopping sprees happen at walmart or dollar general. all of my sprees happen during manic episodes, whether i know it or not. when all else fails, even just the smallest new thing can bring me joy for at least a little while. however, it has gotten me into some financial trouble.

9.} this is a lot harder than i thought. i’ve been writing this for over a half hour now. i hate talking about myself, mainly in person, but still.. so a fact here could be how i have less than no self esteem and i hate myself quite a bit. a lot.

10.} i am a cis female {she/her pronouns}. i am pansexual, if i have a special connection with someone, their gender identity won’t matter to me. love is love.

11.} my favorite shows are freaks and geeks, american dad, friends, stranger things, and that 70s show.

12.} my favorite movies are moana, the saw series, it, dirty grandpa, pineapple express, a million ways to die in the west, spy, just go with it, the thor movies, ace ventura, back to the future, and this is the end.

13.} i love the film group dynamic, and by that i mean groups of actors who almost always do films together. my favorites are the adam sandler crew, the seth rogen / james franco crew, and the seth macfarlane crew.

14.} my favorite food is mexican style food. damn near everything about it is absolutely delicious. i love taco bell, but i prefer actual mexican restaurants. los ranchitos and los agaves are my favorites.  

15.} i don’t drink. i actually decided so shortly after i turned 21. i drank through most of my teen years and when i was first learning the ropes of my mental illnesses, and now alcohol just tastes and smells like terrible, awful, horrible memories. i have made a lot of bad drunk decisions.

16.} i have been sexually assaulted three times {to my knowledge}. i was drugged at a party twice and barely remember the incidents following.. i have no idea how i ended up with these men, i don’t even remember leaving the party place to go to a house. all i know is i would never ever have said yes soberly, and with two of them, i did say no until i passed out.. but that didn’t matter..

17.}  i am an extreme introvert. i have three friends where i live, and i rarely see them due to my love of isolation. i live with my mom, dad, and sister, and i isolate so much, i rarely see them. i prefer solitude. i’ve come to love my own company.. maybe a little too much. 

18.} my favorite book is final gifts by maggie callanan. to anyone interested in nursing, hospice care, or the afterlife, i highly suggest this book. it is so very interesting.

19.} i prefer to blind myself to all political nonsense. i worry enough on my own, i don’t choose to worry further with the way the world has become and keep anything that has to do with that giant nasty racist cheeto in the boss’s chair FAR away from me. but don’t get me wrong, i will help fight for social movements and such. i’ve attended a pride march with my sister, and i support feminism as well. i am not, nor will i ever be racist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. i only judge others by attitude.

20.} i love video games, though i haven’t been playing for long, so i only have a few favorites. i am a huuuge fan of fallout {3, new vegas, and 4}. skyrim is absolutely incredible, i love the elder scrolls. i love bethesda in general. i also play the sims 4 a little too often. it’s nice to virtually live a good life.

21.} music is a huge part of my life, and a big help in keeping my pathetic little heart beating. all time low, pierce the veil, and paradise fears will always ALWAYS be my favorites. they have saved my life countless times. the pop punk / alternative / post hardcore scene is my favorite. i also love the amity affliction, set it off, a day to remember, the ready set, good charlotte, and neck deep. i also enjoy early 2000s pop throwbacks, which includes the occasional backstreet boys binge. i also love throwback hip hop songs from when i was in school. the classics like t-pain, ne-yo, nelly, etc.

22.} i love candles. i like to coordinate the scents with the seasons. i’ve moved to my spring scents already though, which are sweet sangria and peach & mango. my winter scents were cranberry mistletoe, gingerbread spice, and by the fire. and my fall scents were pumpkin spice and hazelnut cream. the gingerbread spice with the hazelnut cream was also an incredible combination.

FINALLY DONE. though i highly doubt anyone will even read this. leave me a message if you did though, or if you relate to a certain part. i know i rambled, but this was pretty damn hard lol. enjoy your night, loves. xx

[fataesthetic-blog]

22 Ways to love and accept your body just the way it is.

As someone who has gone from hating their body to loving and accepting it,here are my 22 ways to love and accept your body:

Get new role models.

In your search for self-acceptance, find role models you can actually imitate. Don’t turn to airbrushed images of models. Find someone real and inspiring. Follow their actions, admire their work ethic, and imitate their open-mindedness, determination or generosity. Choose role models for reasons other than appearance and you will be even more inspired by them.

Put down fashion and fitness magazines.

Those photos are often unrealistic versions of what models and celebrities really look like. If a company is trying to sell you their product, they aren’t afraid to use an image that has been altered.

Unfortunately, what they’re really selling is an unattainable standard of beauty.

Turn off the TV.

Remember that they are paid to look a certain way and have lots of people helping them maintain their appearances. Each celebrity most likely employs a personal trainer, dietician, stylist and personal shopper. Plus the lighting and camera angles are intentionally set in the most flattering ways. If you compare yourself to professional athletes, you have to remember that their job is to stay fit. It isn’t practical for people in other professions to have the body of a professional athlete. In addition, TV commercials are full of empty promises about ‘getting the body of your dreams’ and ‘living the life you deserve’.

Here’s the reality: In order to have the body of your dreams and live the life you deserve, you can’t buy into the hype. You must learn to love and accept your body without their ‘quick fixes’ and ridiculous diet programs.

Of course, not all tv shows are this way, there are a few with good plus sized role models. I'll post about those tv shows soon.

Talk about it.

By talking about it, this doesn’t mean to complain about your body or appearance. Maybe they have some advice or will offer a different outlook. They also might confess that they sometimes feel the same way about their own body. By speaking about your insecurity, you resist internalizing it. Acknowledging how you feel out loud can help you overcome negative self-talk.

Focus on the positive each day.

Try and make a conscious effort to begin the day on a positive note. Monitor the tone of which you speak to yourself. Try and avoid negative self-talk and instead focus on the things that make you feel good about yourself.

There has to be something you like about your body. Start by focusing on that and allow the positive view to change the way you look at the rest of your body. Be grateful for the body you have and try to think of how lucky you are to have it!

Treat yourself as you would a friend.

You would never call your friends ‘ugly fat ass’, so why speak to yourself that way? The most important relationship you will have throughout your life is with yourself. Nurture that relationship with kindness and compassion. Treat yourself like a good friend. Don’t be overly critical, because you certainly wouldn’t treat your friends that way.

Focus on the things that matter.

It’s too easy for your thoughts to be consumed by body-image and appearance. After all, the external influences are everywhere: magazines, television and even other people can spark feelings of self-depreciation. But in life, we all know that appearance is not the most important thing. Try listing the things that matter most to you and bring enjoyment. Here are just a few on my list: family, friends, having fun, laughing, being outdoors, meeting new people and playing with my dog. What things are really important to you?

Don’t compare yourself to others.

I’m sure you’ve heard this one before. ‘Be yourself, don’t compare yourself to others.’ True, you shouldn’t compare yourself to other people because it can make you feel inferior. But you also shouldn’t compare yourself to others and allow yourself to feel superior either. This doesn’t help your self-esteem.

Either way, when making comparisons you are bound to put someone down, whether it’s yourself or the other person. No matter who loses, the important thing to realize is that life is not a competition. It is possible for everyone to be equally beautiful in their own right.

Eat balanced meals.

By properly fueling your body, you are practicing self-respect and self-care. By restricting, dieting and binge eating, you are not showing respect and love for your body. Balanced meals offer the energy needed to enjoy your body and feel your best. Try having a source of carbohydrate, protein and fat at each meal. When one or more of these energy sources are missing from your diet, energy levels and mood can be unstable.

And remember, it´s not about losing weigth, it´s about helping your mind to maintain a positive way to think.

Get moderate exercise.

Exercise is a great way to build a healthy relationship with your body. Feel it move; enjoy the stress relief and psychological as well as physical benefits of being active. Be careful not to over-exercise though, because that can cause serious negative effects. Listen to your body and get the right amount of exercise for you.

Be outside more.

People are not meant to sit inside all day. Some people even suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder if they don’t get enough sunlight! Whether you are sitting on a park bench and taking it easy or going for a hike in the woods, try being outdoors more often. It may cause you to appreciate your body’s responses to warm sunlight, a cool breeze or the sound of birds chirping.

Don’t diet or restrict.

In addition to eating balanced meals, make sure you are eating enough. Dieting and restriction cause many negative effects such as low energy, depression and even damage to internal organs. In addition, restriction leads to binge eating, which does not add to a healthy body-image!

Throw away your scales.

The definition of weight is, “The force that gravitation exerts upon the body.” Why do we place so much importance on the gravitational pull of the earth upon our bodies? Some people weigh their bodies multiple times a day! The number on a scale should never be a representation of your success or failure. It doesn’t measure your self-worth. It only measures the force of gravity on your body. If you want to measure yourself, look at what kind of friends you have, or what kind of friend you are to them. Measure your generosity and thoughtfulness. Measure your real success such as education or having kids. Throw away the scale, because it can’t measure the complex and beautiful person you are.

Find a passion and do it.

When you are truly passionate about something, there’s no room for negative self-talk. If you are an artist, then paint! If you love children, be around them more. If you love feeding the hungry, go volunteer at a shelter. If you are religious, get more involved at church. If your energy is devoted to your passion, there’s less energy for criticizing your body.

Enjoy your amazing body.

Stop for a minute and think of the amazing things you can do. If you’ve had children, think of how incredible that is! Focus on your talents and how your body allows them to happen. Whether you are an artist or an athlete, your body is allowing for those incredible tasks. Also think of the 5 senses. Enjoy them and be thankful.

Dress yourself in comfortable, flattering clothes.

By wearing clothing that makes you feel comfortable and attractive, your confidence will likely increase. Squeezing into your one-size-too-small jeans will not help you feel at ease. Neither will hiding behind clothing that is too big and baggy. Try to find balance in your wardrobe and wear what makes you feel good. Wear whatever you like!

List the things you like about your appearance.

This may be difficult to do at first. You may only be able to come up with one thing the first try, and that’s ok. Practice finding your positive attributes and it will get easier with time. Look over this list when you need a boost of confidence.

Don’t criticize your body or anyone else’s.

Not only will it make you feel bad, it isn’t good for anyone. Have you ever heard someone make fun of others out of insecurity? It isn’t good for the person doing it, the others around them or the person being criticized. No matter how innocent it seems, always try to avoid criticizing your body and anyone else’s too.

Fully accept compliments you receive.

When you receive a compliment, do you shy away or try to negate it? The best way to receive a compliment is with a heartfelt ‘Thank You’ and possibly even a return compliment. Don’t just dismiss it as someone being nice. Take it to heart and believe what they said.

Realize that there’s no such thing as perfection.

Are you working out and dieting until you look perfect? Do you want the perfect legs, abs, arms, or other body part? There is no perfect body, but your body is already perfect for you. You can strive to be healthy and strong, but don’t strive for perfection. It is an unattainable goal that will only lead to feelings of disappointment and failure.

Practice Gratitude.

The next time you catch yourself thinking negative thoughts about your body, try to stop and be thankful. Your body has carried you through to this point, so why be so harsh? Thank your body for allowing you to do what you do. Be grateful that you have this body, because it’s the only one you’ve got and you will live in it the rest of your life. It has probably allowed you to do some amazing things!

Understand that you aren’t alone.

When trying to accept yourself the way you are, it can seem like other people are already there. They look happy and comfortable, so why can’t you feel that way too?

The truth is most other people don’t accept the way they look either. Almost everyone has something they would change, and we all have insecurities.

You are not alone in the journey of self-acceptance.

[beerlovinggemini-blog]

Starting Over

I suppose since I’m starting a new tumblr page I should introduce myself... 

My name is Brittany. I’m 28 years old and I live in a little podunk town in Indiana. I am a bonus mom to two incredible little girls. My heart belongs to their father, Tim, who undoubtedly is my soul mate (1,000,000%). I’m a beer loving Gemini who likes concerts, Chicago Cubs baseball, and video games. I love all food and summer is my favorite season. I absolutely LOVE making people laugh and I’ve got a handful of tattoos displayed on various parts of my body that mean the world to me. I love expressing myself through words so, if I’m happy, sad, mad, scared, nervous, etc. you’ll read about it here. So follow my daily posts if you choose. I can’t guarantee you’ll like them but maybe they’ll help you out in some weird indirect way. 

If I have to be honest... this blog is going to contain a lot of lovey-dovey posts regarding my man so, if that isn’t something you want to consistently read about then I suggest moving on elsewhere. I love being in love and I love sharing with the world how in love I am. Especially because I never thought I’d find my “prince charming.” Turns out he’s really just a good ole’ country boy who raises chickens, fixes everything on his own, cans his own food & preserves, and drives a truck. Did I mention he has a beard and he’s sexy as all get out? Oh! And he has tattoos... 

Wait.. oops... sorry, had to wipe up my drool. 

So anyway, I’m about to bust out with story time right meow so get your snacks and drinks because it’s gonna take me a little bit...

Alright, so, I always believed that at the age I’m at now I would be married, possibly starting my own family, and living in the stereotypical all American white picket fenced house. Boy was I wrong. I fell in love for the first time when I was in the 8th grade. I thought for sure we’d be together forever. We dated for a year before our relationship came to an unexpected end. By that I mean, my Grandma (she raised me) told me we couldn’t be together anymore because she found out I lost my virginity to him. Whoops! That relationship is still up in the air as to whether or not it would’ve lasted. I’m glad it didn’t but I’m still curious to know how long we would’ve been together had it not ended prematurely. Then I dated one guy from 10th grade until we graduated college. I also thought we’d be together forever but as we got older we just changed into two completely different people who wanted different things out of life. He wanted to live the city lifestyle and move away from family and friends to pursue his career in accounting. I cherish family and friends more than anything so that was my first sign that we probably wouldn’t last. Sure enough, I broke up with him and moved back home while he found someone new, got married, and moved to Indianapolis. 

Okay... so serious relationship #1 & #2 were epic fails. But you live and you learn, right?

On to relationship #3 --- This one was unexpected. That was a good thing because one piece of advice my grandmother always gave me was to never go looking for a relationship. She would always say that the good ones would come to me. The fact that I unexpectedly met him in a bar may or may not have been a sign that our relationship wouldn’t last forever either but hey, a lot of good people hang out in bars so I went with it. Actually, looking back on the whole scenario leading up to us dating, it all should’ve tipped me off but whatever, it is what it is. Again, I met future BF #3 in a bar. I was standing at the bar ordering shots with a friend and excitedly telling him about a concert I was going to the next night. There was either a live band playing in the bar that night or the music was just really loud. Either way, I was talking louder than normal so my friend could hear me. Future BF #3 was already drunk at this point and apparently didn’t like how loud I was being so, as politely as he could, he told me to “shut the fuck up because I can’t hear myself think.” CLASSY! I should’ve poured my drink on his head right then and there but I was poor then and I couldn’t afford to waste my drink... that I couldn’t afford, haha! I gave him a look and proceeded to walk away when I felt a death grip around my right arm. It was so strong the momentum of me walking the opposite direction made me spin around only to face the same idiot who, 30 seconds prior, gracefully told me to shut my trap. He began drunkenly apologizing and for whatever reason I let it slide. I’m not sure if it was because of his blue eyes, his beard, or his rugged good looks in general but something about him calmed me despite how rude he previously was. He bought me a drink and we talked for the rest of the night until he went home. The buffoon wasn’t even going to ask me for my number until I offered it. THEN, he didn’t even contact me for almost three weeks after the fact. If that wasn’t the second red flag I don’t know what was. To make an already long story shorter, we dated for 4.5 years. We moved in together after year one and he proposed to me on May 12, 2017. Our wedding was set for June 9th, 2018 but it never happened. Why? Because he was heartless. OR his heart was sooooo buried within him that it was impossible for him to express emotions or show any form of affection whatsoever. Anyone who knows me knows I’m a very lovable person. I love telling people I love them. I love hearing people tell me they love me. I love kissing and hugging and holding hands. I love small romantic gestures like random love notes and just because flowers. Typical woman shit. BF #3 DID NONE OF THESE THINGS. He never told me he loved me unless I said it first. He hated holding hands. It took years before he’d kiss me in front of his friends and family and even then he acted like it caused him physical pain whenever it happened. It got so bad that towards the end, in the comfort of our own private home, he would turn his head away when I’d lean in to kiss him. He actually had the nerve to ask me one time why I like kissing so much. SERIOUSLY? Being engaged to marry this man, I had some serious self-exploring to do. Could I live with that for the rest of my life? Definitely not. And it wasn’t like I just up and left him. Over the period of our relationship, I had expressed my sadness with him many times. He had plenty of opportunity to try harder... if he really loved me. He claimed he did yet it never bothered him how sad I was. If I cried about anything he would make me feel stupid for it. Sometimes, just to spend time with him, I go out into the garage when he’d be working on something. In an effort to try and learn about the things he was interested in I’d ask him to teach me about engines or whatever it was he was working on. Instead of it being an actual learning experience, it always turned out to be him belittling me because things he thought I should already know (as if they were common sense) I didn’t know and that would just wear his patience thin. Not that it wasn’t thin already. Someone who loves you just doesn’t do that to you. I was constantly walking around him as if I were on eggshells because I never wanted to upset him, or make him say things to me that would make me hate myself or feel terrible about myself. My self-esteem was at an all time low with him. Finally, one day, I woke up. I told him I wasn’t happy anymore and I wanted to go stay with my grandma for a little while to think about things. In that process, I started a new job. At that new job is where I met future boyfriend #4... aka: soul mate.

Soooo... I’d be lying if I said BF#4 didn’t help get me over the final hurdle of officially breaking it off with BF #3. He was going through marital problems himself and at first we relied on one another to vent. We kind of were going through the same thing so it was nice to have someone to talk to when it seemed like there was no one else. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous either ;) After a little bit of time it was plain to see that there was something special between us. He made me feel like no other man in my life had ever made me feel. We genuinely belly laughed together. We genuinely cared about the others feelings and where abouts. He looked at me like I had never been looked at before. And his eyes had such a kindness to them. It was hard not to fall in love with his eyes. We quickly realized that we were falling for each other and we had to decide if we really wanted to start a relationship together or not. At one point in time he tried ending whatever we were thinking maybe his marriage had one last thread of hope for lasting. Needless to say, I woke up 8 hours later with messages on my phone from him so even he couldn’t deny that there was an unbreakable bond between the two of us. At that moment we decided to take a leap of faith with one another. I told BF #3 it was officially over and future BF #4′s (then) wife moved out and filed for divorce. I think about six weeks later BF #4 gave me a house key and asked me to move in. He told me he loved me first about two weeks before that. To an outsider, our relationship moved at lightening speed and I’d be lying again if I said we didn’t think it was moving quickly ourselves but we weren’t scared of it. We took it on full force and have been moving along with it ever since. He is 3000% opposite of BF #3. He holds my hand EVERYWHERE. He wraps his arms around me while I’m standing at the sink washing dishes or cook dinner at the stove. He makes me coffee every morning while I’m getting ready for work. He bought me Old Style when baseball season started because he knew it was a personal tradition of mine to drink one while watching the Chicago Cubs home opening game. He pays attention to little details, like when I run out of my favorite wine/beer because he’ll buy me more every time. He tells me he loves me every day, multiple times a day. He also throws in daily compliments about how beautiful I am or how happy I make him. He never denies my kisses. Sometimes I think I don’t give him enough of them because we kiss so often. He texts me in the middle of the day to ask me how everything is going. He kisses my forehead. He does things with me even if it may not be something he’s totally into. He laughs with me. He believes in me. He makes me want to be a better woman. He’s made me the mother I always wanted to be. Maybe not the traditional way but that’s completely okay with me. He inspires me. He motivates me. He dances with me in the kitchen while he’s making me dinner (which he does almost every night). He helps me with household chores. He teaches me new things WITHOUT belittling me and making me feel stupid. He’s patient with me. He helps me and I help him. We are a perfect team. When/If we disagree we talk it out. We don’t throw fits and go days without speaking. He recognized that communication wasn’t his strong suit in his last relationship and he’s made it a point to focus on that skill with me and I’d say he’s phenomenal about it. We never go to bed mad at one another, that’s for sure. We joke together. We simply have fun together. He’s the hardest working man I know. He’s smart, funny, caring, loyal, trustworthy, and so on... there are millions of ways to describe him. Overall, he’s nothing short of amazing. I ask myself every morning when I wake up what I did to deserve him. 

Deep down I always knew I deserved a love like this. The last relationship I was in slightly blinded me of that but I was able to find my way back and I was lucky enough to meet the man who I undoubtedly, with my whole heart call my soul mate. It’s been a short but exciting road with him so far and like they say, “when you know, you just know.”

I definitely know.