#at least after this last therapist i have started to see how positive thinking (IN MODERATION) is beneficial

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[autobahnmp3]

at least i have my ways of dealing with depression..... they're mostly healthy ig that's something

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (2)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: TBD

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

the mirrors of your practice room were foggy, the heat radiating off of your whole groups bodies as you worked your hardest to perfect all the choreographies to your newest album. you worked especially hard since last week, you took a long time to really think about what happened.

“we both know you’re just as messy,” Jungkook spat at you, you bit back your tears and fought your conscience screaming at you to walk away. this isn’t something you would just walk away from, not with your boosting ego.

“this is why we won’t work out, Jungkook, you’re acting like a bitch. fix yourself, i’ll fix me. i thought you were doing better, but it seems like you’re still the dick you were during all our fucking arguments,” you grabbed your belongings and starting walking away from his frozen figure, his words hitting him like a brick in the face. you came out here with him hoping you could talk to him, make him remember the reason why you weren’t communicating things or in contact, but he just proved to you why you shouldn’t have came.

Jungkook sat back down, right where you sat, thinking over things. anytime he would see you, he felt this rage build up inside of him. the rage coming from nowhere, yet appearing whenever your pretty face shows up in his sight. he hates it. he swore to control his anger, the way he acted when things didn’t go his way, but apparently anger management isn’t enough for him.

it’s not that he hates you, he adores you, he loves you. but sometimes, he feels like he can’t stand you. you act like you have everything in your life sorted out, when you don’t, not without him. it might be toxic of him to think of you that way, but it’s true. you know it’s true, deep inside and past your wall that you’ve built up for no one to see behind your cute personality set for the stage. only he knows the real you, at least he thinks, and he knows you have a shit ton of problems just like him.

Jungkook clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white at the thought of how he spoke to you. you don’t deserve that, but at the same time, he rightfully believes you need someone to put you in your place sometimes. but at the same time, you wish someone would knock some sense into Jungkook and make him grow up, even if he grew up way to fast, he still is childish as ever when it comes to talking about things.

you snapped out of your state of thought as one of your members patted your back, telling you to drink up some water before starting again. you wiped your face with a towel before gulping down half of your bottle, tossing it on the floor, and starting up again. thank god that you have therapy tomorrow, you thought as you stand in position once again, waiting for the music to start up.

“he said that to you?” your therapist questioned, jotting down notes quickly so you can speak more about how you felt during that moment. you felt angry, sad, all of the above. out of all people you thought would understand, Jungkook was the one you felt would. yet, he opens his mouth and speaks mean words towards you like he always did when he was struggling, never able to control what he says. but who were you to talk, you did the same things, but you were for sure better at controlling it.

“i thought we were ready to talk about why we actually broke up, i thought i was to say at the least, he for sure wasn’t,” you sighed, picking at your skin around your fresh pedicured nails out of habit. it breaks your heart, seeing him that way, he only acts like that when he’s in a deep place. you can visualize him going home, and immediately changing into work out clothes, beating on his punching back until the chain gives out, his knuckles bleeding with open wounds.

but then again, who’s ever ready to talk about a long relationship ending? at the time, walking to the park in the freezing cold, you felt ready. you walked high and proud as you were side by side with the man whose heart you constantly break. maybe he did have the right to act that way, but it still hurts coming from him. yeah, you had to figure out your shit, but so did he, so him acting like that felt hypocritical.

“darling, no one is ever ready to talk about why relationships end the way they end,” she starts again, it’s was like she was reading your mind as you sat there quietly in thought, “maybe you should of waited, but know you know for sure that now isn’t the right time to get back together, no matter how much you both want and crave it,”

“we’re like the same person, at least i like to think so. i just want him to understand why i do what i do,” it makes your head hurt thinking about reasons why he couldn’t try to understand you at the least, it was the least he could do along with loving you. he was always so unreasonable with mental health.

“just give him some time to think about what he said and how he can fix things over time, time heals everything,” bullshit.

you felt like a mess, sitting in front of the vanity mirror as you get your hair fixed by your stylist, her sweet smile as your eyes reached hers in the mirror comforted you in the slightest, you just had to get through tonight and then you’ll be able to be alone in your dorm room, in the comfort of your own bed.

“feeling anxious?” your leader lets her head fall on your shoulder, smiling at the glitter in your inner corners and poking your cheek in awe, “you’ll be okay, at least you’re pretty and have curly hair,” her finger twirls the curl resting in the small ponytail in your hair, letting it boing back to place.

once your stylist was done, she spun your chair to face your leader, who bent down to fix the curls in your face, cupping your cheeks once she was done and smiling down at you, “i just wish to be home right now,” you sigh, practically melting into her hold and she squishes your cheeks in response. you wanted to cry, the amount of promotions you had this week drained every last bit of emotion out of you.

“just put a smile on that frowny face of yours, get out there and look as cute as you always do during fansigning, we’re gonna have a party tonight!” you groan in response, she lets go of your face to cross her arms across her chest, noticing your negative response to the idea of partying, “what’s wrong with getting wasted after all these promotions? it’s not like anyone else will be there,”

that was a lie, you sat in a corner of your shared house with group after group showing up and partying, while you just wanted to be in your bed. maybe if you get drunk enough, you can dance with a random and have some fun tonight, you thought while staring at your other members already claiming other males to dance with. the lights flashing making your head hurt, as you stood up to get another glass of your drink.

there was yelling going on around you, but you chose to ignore it and downed half of your cup before heading towards your room, planning on locking your door and drowning all the noise of the party out with music. but your heart and feet stopped when hollers from the front door caught your attention. the person who took feet away from you, you wished to disappear out of his sight. no, it wasn’t Jungkook, right about now you wished it was instead of the monster who stood close in front of you, but far away at the same time

Choi Jaehyun, also known as the dick that cheated on you, also known as the abusive alcoholic you had dated, also known as the reason for the way you were now. one little glance towards his way made you gag, in shock and disbelief that he would dare to even show up here. the first thing he did was grab a beer, like he always did at his house after hitting you like you were the cause of all his problems.

it makes you ache, your heart especially knowing you loved his shit ass self at one point, thinking that he would change if you just covered up all the marks he would leave on you. after that relationship was over, your leader swore at you to never get back into another relationship until you got over him. you were over him, to say the least, but not over the way he made you feel. he made you feel worthless, ungrateful, unworthy, like a weakling.

“you think you deserve to be out there in the spotlight, like the bitch you are?” he spat in your face, his hands close to your face making you feel like something was coming towards you.

“baby, please just sit down and listen to me-” another smack hit your cheek, the tingling burned and made you call out in a cry, “jaehyun! please, stop and just have a drink-” you gasped out, the tears burned your eyes but slightly cooled the heat of your cheek.

“drink some more, is that what you fucking what? you want me more drunk so you can run away again?” he grabs your cheek hard, pulling it as he backed you against the cold of the refrigerator. you tried to focus on the loud humming coming from the damn thing, instead of the burning sensation of his hand pinching at the same place he just whacked you, “you’ll never be able to get away from me, not again, baby,”

the tears flowed from your cheeks, his body now facing you as your memory fades away to a new one standing infront of you currently. the look of his face, like he didn’t expect you to be at your own groups party, what a fucking idiot. before he could walk towards you, you grabbed your drink and stormed past him, ignoring the ringing affect his call of your name had to your ears. you told yourself, that where ever he was, you weren’t going to be, never, ever again.

you left the house in nothing but a thin jacket, you walked until your legs gave up on you. once you sat down, not knowing where you were or where your legs were walking you to, you looked up at the dark sky. the lights of the stars twinkling above you, giving you some comfort of the unbearable memories you had. you wished you could just deleted everything, every moment you had that with sick man. but it stays with you, like a parasite eating away at your skin.

you sniffled as you calmed down, whipped out your phone to dial someone, anyone to come get you and to be in the comfort of someone’s arms. you scrolled and scrolled, hoping to see someone’s name that warmed your heart at the sight of it. your eyes scoped around your contacts, hoping for anyone’s name to pop up.

Park Jimin. you quickly dialed his number, knowing he would pick up in a heart beat, like he always did for you.

“are you sure you’ll be okay on the couch? my bed is just as comfortable, even more at that,” he spoke as softly as you remembered, he tucked you into the couch and making sure you were comfortable enough to sleep away your puffy eyes.

“i’ll be okay out here, Jimin, i promise,” Jimin was the only other member, besides Hoseok, who knew about you and Jungkook. he allowed you to come over time to time when ever you and Jungkook would have problems, problems that were always better than what Jaehyun ever put you through. you believe that why you always went back to him, back to the comfort of his aura because he truly loved you. he loved every bit of you, but he couldn’t handle every bit of you.

Jungkook would never, you thought as you rolled over, facing the back of the couch as Jimin accepted the fact you chose the couch over his bed and went upstairs to get some sleep for himself. Jungkook had his angry issues, but he would never show abusive tendencies towards you, no matter how mad he was. he never raised a hand towards your way, he never laid a finger on you. it took you awhile to trust him, but that trust never once left even after you left him multiple times. but, to never bring up the memories that made you feel like a burden, you never once mentioned your past relationship, no matter how many times Jungkook would beg to talk about your exes.

“you should start writing in your journal again, _____” Jimin spoke over his shoulder, his hands working on making your eggs the way you loved them, “i know that helped you at times like this, even if i don’t know what actually happened for you to end up 10 minutes away from my place,”

“it’s better not to talk about it, for my sake,” he nodded in agreement, letting you know he won’t budge any information out of you since he knows the way you looked when he picked you up from the random street you sat at. you always wanted to tell him about your past, what changed you into the mess you are now and why you can’t seem to stay stable at any current time of the year. just because it happened years ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you to talk about it, even if you trusted someone with your life, “you know what? that might be a good idea,” you spoke up after the minute of slience between you both.

you’ll write about everything bothering you, maybe you’ll be able to pick at the pieces broken inside of you to figure out how to handle all of your problems with Jungkook, but mainly yourself. you always need to put yourself first, your therapist would tell you, no matter how badly the other person is struggling, and you stood by that.

you never wanted to leave Jungkook, you never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t good enough for you love. you wanted him to feel like he was on the top of the world with you, to make him feel important and loved the way he should. what he doesn’t know, is that he was the reason you wanted to get better. he always told you, that you deserved everything heading towards you that was good. if the good was getting better and becoming healthy, hell yeah, you deserved that shit like it was a grammy.

so once you got back to the dorms, letting all your members and your worried leader know that you were at a good friends house after the party, you headed to your room with a fresh new notebook, ready to jot down all your feelings and thoughts that you let eat you alive everyday.

to my past, fuck you, sincerely. you deserve nothing, you don’t deserve to take over my life. i will get rid of you, i will get better, i deserve to be happy, i deserve to become a butterfly instead of moth. moths are pretty, but trust, i will be a beautiful monarch.

cheesy, you know that, but it’s true. so true that you continue to write until your hand cramps around your pen. you will get better, it just takes time, but time definitely does not heal everything.

a/n: i low-key hate writing angst, but here we are! this is a reminder that you are not alone if you’ve ever went through abuse or trauma with abuse, you will always have people out there for you and you have help too. there are hotlines on top of hotlines, please don’t be afraid to speak up about it, no matter what. i love you all, and never feel like you can’t reach out to talk to me, dm me about anything! you are all worthy and beautiful and deserve the best🩷. here are some hotlines: 1, 2, 3

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @joonsproperty @jk97bam @dna-black-and-blue

COMMENT TO BE ON TAGLIST!

[fearecia]

Physical Therapy appointment went well. Hypermobility confirmed. I am officially a loosey-goosey monster.

Here's how that went:

First, I'd dropped into the clinic about three weeks ago to have a quick chat with the physical therapists. A coworker of mine has a daughter with EDS who is doing therapy with this place, so I knew they had specialists. I asked the desk if I could have a quick chat with their EDS therapist(s), as I had a couple questions. I got lucky and the therapists were available, and I just asked if they knew the difference between hypermobility and hyper-flexibility. They seemed a bit confused by me, but the one was able to throw out definitions, and then describe how he would check for both. I will admit it went a little over my head, but he clearly knew what to do, and that's what I was really after. So the appointment got scheduled.

Today's appointment started with the usual intake. What my concerns were, what kind of pain I was dealing with (hahaha), history of issues, etc. Primary areas of concern were identified (hips, lumbar, shoulders) and we went from there.

First up was the range of motion with pain checks. How far can you move and does it hurt? We had a clarification mid-assessment because I always stop when I feel the restriction and avoid pain; he wanted to know just how far I could go regardless. Which did require more effort on my part, because I can go further, but it takes work to overcome the muscle guarding.

Strength checks were next. These are the ones where you assume the position and the therapist applies pressure that you have to resist. I was plenty strong in all the necessary areas, except for a surprise weakness in infraspinatus on my left shoulder.

Next was passive muscle mobility. I relaxed and he manipulated the limbs to see how far things could go and what the restrictions were. There were some distinct limitations, as expected.

The last part was actually testing the joint mobility. I would relax and he would kinda gently wiggle the joint via the bone to see how much it would move. So for my hips, my knee was resting on his shoulder and he was moving my femur around to see how much wiggle room there was in the socket. And that's where we hit bingo.

Hips definitely moved too much. There was a bit of a "oh yeah, that's really mobile" with the left shoulder. Right shoulder not quite as bad, but still too much. And then he checked the lumbar spine, and it was the "oh shit" moment. Which is spot that has always been tender to the touch (which I warned him of), and he just put light pressure on the bone. Apparently that was enough that the bone just gave under his fingers and shifted away from the pressure. Which, well, your SPINE should NOT do that.

I will also add that my spine has arthritis in it, and bulging discs. Plus an autoimmune condition that causes chronic inflammation of the spine. It anything, I should have less mobility in those joints, not more.

So, anyway. That's what a PT evaluation of hypermobility versus hyper-flexibility looks like. As a point, he usually called it "hyperextensibility" instead of "hyper-flexibility." And he noted that I may even qualify as hypoextensible (as in, significantly lacking flexibility) in several muscles.

My joints don't full on dislocate (as far I know). I'm starting to think they've been subluxating (partial dislocation/misaligned in the joint) for a very long time and I've just thought things were "jammed" or "spazzed out." I usually solved the problem of the day by finding the offending muscles, releasing them, and then crunching the joint in question back into feeling better. Doing this usually also got the muscles to chill out too. I am ridiculously strong (least, no one expects me to be as strong as I am - I'm not a body builder by any means) and it tends to hide the issues with my joints. But any significant injury I get never seems to fully heal, and instead turns into a chronic issue I just learn to treat/compensate for.

Hopefully these details are helpful to other zebras.

[everythingisliminal]

Day 20 of 75 Hard

When I complete today, it'll be the furthest I've ever been in this challenge (made it through day 10 then day 19 in 2021).

The journey so far:

Two 45+ minute workouts, 3+ hours apart, at least one of which must be outside. Because I work 10 hour days in wetland restoration navigating mucky, watery, and steep terrain with ~40lbs on my back, I count those 4 workdays as my outdoor workout. Yes it's already part of my routine, but I wasn't going to not do this challenge just because I'm not fitting another workout in before work.

My other outdoor workouts are all walking and/or running around the neighborhood or on trails. My indoor workouts are push, pull, and indoor cycling days with my buddy, bowling with my husband, and following walk/dance/box/lift/yoga vids at home.

Saturdays are wild because I need to get a walk/run in, then go straight to cycling, and then 3 hours later bowl bc my afternoons are booked and I have to get that outdoor workout in but 3 hours away from another workout. Making it work, though!

I did put together an idealized workout schedule to train for the 5 mile trail run my buddy and I signed up for 2 weekends after we complete 75 Hard. Already had to adjust because I twisted my ankle yesterday, so I used that opportunity to try Qigong (followed by 45 min yoga). We'll see if I should stick with walking today or if I can throw in a few 3-4 minute runs.

Honestly, the toughest part of this rule is the scheduling and getting started. I really enjoy the physical activity when I'm in the flow of it.

Take a progress picture. This has been beneficial for me in a way I couldn't predict. The mirror has always surprised me, like "oh, that's what I look like?" It always shows me as curvier, less athletic than I picture myself. Might stem from a grey area of body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria. It's one of the things I'm talking with my therapist about.

But now that I'm taking a picture of my body every day, I'm realizing that what I'm seeing in the mirror looks better than what I'm seeing in the photo, giving an element of valuing what I see in the mirror. Like, I can more positively accept that that's me. So that's cool.

10 pages of reading a "think about your life" nonfiction book. I read The Book on Mental Toughness, which the creator of 75 Hard wrote. 3 of 5 stars. I might write an extended review, but a lot of the book was like watching a car crash. Yeah, the author's mentally tough, but he's not very well read sociologically. It'll be a tougher read for anyone who's nonbinary, living with intergenerational trauma, or can't stand editing/formatting issues. But there was some insightful info about 75 Hard and the continued LIVEHARD program, and I really benefited from the chapter on drinking water.

Currently reading Weave the Liminal: Living Modern Traditional Witchcraft, which I'm fully enjoying.

Books I'm considering reading next are Rest is Resistance: Free Yourself from Grind Culture and Reclaim Your Life / How to Make Friends & Influence People / The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius / Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good / and Keeping It Living: Traditions of Plant Use and Cultivation on the Northwest Coast of North America.

If anyone has a recommendation for books on Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, or Aphrodite/Aphroditus, I'm looking to learn more about their part in trans history.

Drink 1 gallon of water. I have to stick with a 90oz goal. I've tried multiple times in the past to drink a gallon a day and always wound up with a horribly sore throat after a few days. Last time, it made me sick for 2 weeks. So 90oz of unflavored water is definitely way more than I'd drink normally (32oz on a good day) but without dipping back into unhealthy territory. There are some days that I can drink more (allowing me to get in some Gatorade, preworkout, or BCAAs), but I also have a steady supply of good cough drops at hand.

I try to get in 32oz before lunch, another 32oz by 5pm, and 26oz+ before sleepy time.

Follow a diet. No cheat meals or alcohol. I'm focused on getting 100+ grams of protein a day (macro balancing and calorie deficit are secondary but seem to be happening naturally). I've also cut out chocolate (this is how I know I mean business), sugary drinks, gluten, and microwavable mac n' cheese type meals.

This is really forcing me to get my act together when it comes to planning/prepping. No more going to the coffee stand for a burrito and red bull before work. I have to either cook breakfast or nom on a protein bar. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and at least 2 snacks all have to be protein-centric for me to meet my goal. It's wild to think of how little protein I must have been getting. But now I'm full, and then I'm hungry! There's no middle ground of kinda-hungry filled with chips and milk teas. All this meal prepping and forcing myself to eat well for 75 days will probably be one of the most beneficial things I've ever done for myself.

Tangentially, cutting out chocolate meant cutting out my herbal calm chocolate supplements I always had at night to help myself wind down. Now I have to get off my phone earlier and stretch/meditate/read to get myself prepped for bed. It's good stuff.

Also, I don't drink alcohol, so there's no challenge for me there.

Overall: I'm so glad I'm doing this. This is helping me live my life the way I actually want to live it. I'm developing daily discipline and gaining insights into myself. I've lost 6lbs, my clothes fit better, and I can navigate terrain more easily. I'm enjoying trails in my free time. I was wishy-washy about my goals when I tried 75 Soft a couple months ago, and so didn't stick with them. With 75 Hard, my commitment is unquestionable. This is what my life looks like for the next 56 days. Afterward, I'll take what I like and ditch anything I don't.

If you're considering 75 Hard yourself, do make a game plan. Figure out what your diet is going to be and shop for it. Know how you'll track your water. Schedule a week or two of workouts that help you fulfill a goal (finding out what's fun for you, increasing strength/flexibility/speed, getting outside, hanging out with someone, whatever). Get a book. Give yourself this Day 0 to set yourself up for success.

Then START :D

[theredpharaoah]

I think the writing for this was really sloppy. A lot of it didn’t make sense at all and they didn’t clear anything up at the end. The pacing was also bad. Everything happens in the last chapter, and the chapters after Chapter 7 go really quick(Jaime died trying to save Chris for me). Like Chapter 11-13 were literally just cut scenes.

From what I can understand; Augustine was part of some cult that worships the entity. She was a psychiatrist or therapist and had Frank Stone as a patient. I’m assuming that in order to get the entity to come to your realm, you need to essentially create a trial. 4 survivors, a killer, and some form of isolated environment. I think the survivors and the killer also need to be connected in some way, and maybe something with objects of power? I’m not understanding why she needed the timelines or how Frank Stone even made that portal though.

My best guess is that bleeding timelines somehow makes it easier for the entity to enter,

I understand DBD’s message is that there is no escape, but they had a chance to make sure this didn’t happen. With the time portal right there, you’d think they would’ve started trying to figure out how to use that to change stuff. If they could’ve stopped Frank Stone’s killings, he wouldn’t have been a prolific enough killer to draw the entity to our world. Sam not telling them what was going on seemed nonsensical. For a huge chunk of time they just weren’t doing anything in the 2024 timeline. And Sam said something about how he didn’t want to tell her so he didn’t tell her…??? It made no sense and was just and storytelling. You’d think Sam would tell them about the timelines. What’s also annoying is that the characters got information and just didn’t use it. It’s really not hard to see all the different universes’ versions of Murder Mill, Alt timeline Sam, Chris come out the portal, and deduce that time travel or at least some form of time manipulation is happening. And then Madison heard a recording of Augustine literally saying she was trying to bring Frank Stone back and just didn’t say anything or try to connect that to anything else. A lot of it feels like it was trying to tell a very messy and convoluted story to the viewer and the characters were just a means of doing that. The Characters themselves didn’t seem to act like real people; they were means of achieving a very confusing lore dump.

I’m assuming the reason Claudette and them don’t speak at the campfire is because they’re just so depressed from being in the Entity’s realm for so long. Based on Linda and Chris’ dialogue for some endings, it’s outside of time. Linda seems like she’s already been there for a while by the time Madison arrives. My issue with this is if there truly is no escape, why are the survivors and killers even trying? If in forever cursed to be hunted and killed, or constantly fighting for survival with absolutely no positives to my existence; I’m not gonna keep doing shit. I would literally enter the trial and just stand there because there’s no point to doing anything. Even if I win some trials I’m guaranteed to lose others. Pain is guaranteed and so is death and resurrection. I don’t think it makes sense that they continue to play the Entity’s game. And I don’t think the Entity would get any joy out of possessing them and forcing them to play. Whatever pain they feel they would’ve long since grown accustomed to. In other words: the entity’s realm doesn’t seem sustainable. I don’t see anyone participating for longer than a couple of months.

I’m also inclined to believe that if there’s an evil entity then there must be some good Higher Powers too. Even if the entity is the creator of the boons and survivor offerings, I don’t think it would be the creator of our world. I personally would’ve used this game to set up some sort of opposition to the Entity. If you wanna stick strictly to the “No Escape” thing, then have it be that this other being and it’s followers try to intervene and stop the entity from kidnapping people or sealing up the means by which it accesses different worlds. I personally would have it be something that breaches the entities’ realm, and that it or any number of other higher powers are responsible for giving Survivors things like Boon Totems and Invocations. The entity gives Survivors things like tools, but the point of the entities realm is to be killer-sided so it can feed off of the pain and fear of the survivors. I think the trauma that drives most of the killers is the pain the Entity feeds off from them. It just makes no sense that the Survivors would keep on doing trials if there’s no hope of ever getting out. They need to introduce something in the lore that gives them hope of escape to explain why they keep fighting. Even something like “they survive so they don’t get devoured by the Entity” wouldn’t work because they’ve already been devoured by the Entity. And if they’re just in its realm but haven’t been consumed by it; the anguish they feel would most likely make them accept such a fate if it put an end to it. If being consumed would mean eternal anguish; they’re already experiencing that anyway. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

[rararazaquato]

Tell us more about le cartoon version of Raincode you have please.

Like of other characters appearing and more dynamics, including episodes.

oh BABY you're in for a treat!!!

i have a whole google doc planned out for this thing, despite me having no animation experience gjgkhkh... this is gonna be the Public Lore Dump Post btw, and spoilers for all of rain code will be under the cut.

so the concept for this whole thing came about while watching the animations of youtuber OkayScreamingNow. super cool animation btw, their "psycho teddy" animation moderately blew up but i'm a huge fan of their "everybody likes you" video.

between watching those, a ton of aimkid videos, wince media's meat bun song, and nicktendo's mighty b review, i started feeling really nostalgic for mid-late 2000s animation, the stuff i grew up on. growing up creepie, yin yang yo, kenny the shark, all these were shows i adored as a kid. so, combined with my current rain code fixation, this little au came to be!

the general conceit of this au is that "Master Detective Archives" is a 2008 animated children's program that lasted for 20 episodes and is majority lost media. only a couple episodes exist in the bowels of shitty piracy sites, and even then those sites keep getting taken down. the more screenshots and concept art i make, the more is "revealed" about the show.

one of the things that interests me the most about children's media is how people worked around the censors. a lot of people are familiar with the story of the ren and stimpy adult party cartoon. for those who aren't familiar, when john "god's mistake" kricfalusi created an adult oriented reboot of ren and stimpy, the show was dogshit. with the new ability to rely on the crutch of whatever grossout sexual humor it wanted, it became a massive stain on john k's career (he has had other horrific stains both before and after apc, but i need to stress, no one liked apc).

for a more positive example, i love pretty much all of jhonen vasquez's work, but i find the humor and even some of the horror of invader zim to be more interesting than the same stuff in jthm, because iz was working under far stricter standards and practices.

what i'm trying to get at is that i enjoy the challenge of seeing how i can take concepts and make them more kid-friendly while still keeping the intrigue and interest the concepts originally had. i worked at a summer camp in 2022, and the driving force behind this little project was "keeping rain code camp-appropriate, but also keeping it interesting".

this ethos will hopefully explain some of the Big Changes i made to the story and characters. i do want to stress that i do not think i am improving on the original work. i think rain code is a story that, inherently, works better as an m-rated, gritty, cyberpunk-y murder mystery. i've just always been uniquely fascinated by this particular genre shift.

so, first major change: nocturnal detective agency has turned into nocturnal detective academy. this is a place where young minds, particularly those with supernatural powers, go to hone their craft. or at least... it was. now it's run exclusively by three people: headmaster Zange Eraser, school nurse and therapist Melami Goldmine, and teacher (and everything else) Yakou Furio.

i grew up with a book series called school of fear, which was about a small group of kids with severe phobias being sent to help conquer their fears at a highly rated school. however, it was actually just a kooky old lady and her massive mansion, and while she helped the kids get over their fears, she did it in unorthodox and occasionally darkly humorous ways. i remember a scene in the books where she put the claustrophobe and the kid afraid of death in a coffin for a few hours, and while that is absolutely NOT how exposure therapy works, the idea of a school that's just a few adults running a lowkey scam out of their house has always tickled my funny bone.

so the nda is a school, teaching detective skills and the like. of course, because yakou is my beautiful failwife, he mostly just sends his students out into the city of Kanai Ward to do their own investigative work and report back with what they've learned... as long as they don't get in trouble with Hecksmile or his goons, at least!

yeah, the other big change is that the peacekeepers are more like team rocket than corrupt cops. while i agree that the police suck, and a lot of older cartoons seem to share that sentiment (even some newer ones like gravity falls), having all the villains be evil, corrupt cops seems like a recipe to get s&p on your ass. so now, the cops just don't do anything, and Hecksmile and his goons just wreak havoc whenever they feel like it.

(i've already explained the hecksmile bit in a previous post, but i dont think any of the other names would need changing. maybe if this was the 90s, desuhiko and fubuki would get their names changed to something more eurocentric, but this isn't the 90s and that stuff was cringe even back then.)

there are only seven students at the academy, and i've de-aged these characters to be more relatable to the target audience: our main character yuma, halara, desuhiko, fubuki, vivia, pucci, and aphex. i'll detail them a bit here, because yakou, zange, and melami can all stay pretty similar (actually, melami doesn't randomly feel up strangers to get their clothing measurements anymore, but that's a pretty minor change).

yuma is still our main character, acting as the straight man and audience surrogate. the whole "number one" twist isn't really a thing with how this whole plot is set up, so his awkward and generally "scrunkly" attitude from the game is his natural state here. though none of the ages of the characters are specified, he's often called out as the youngest detective, probably in his preteens or early teenagehood. his coalescence is used for a lot of teamwork-based solutions to problems, but he isn't that great at actual mystery-solving.

this is where shinigami comes in! in the first episode, after some hijinks, yuma accidentally summons a death god. fortunately, he summons a teenage death god. she can only appear in her cool human form in her summoner's dreams, she can't interact with anyone in the physical world except her summoner, and she doesn't even have her reaper's license yet! regardless, she likes having a friend, so she helps yuma see things from different perspectives. i figured death spirits wouldn't be off the table, exactly (i mean, look at billy and mandy), but i think there's a certain humor in a death god not being able to do any soul reaping. i like to think she talks about it like her driver's license. "ugh, i'm not allowed to reap any souls until i'm 16 thousand years old! i'm only 14 thousand!!!" because of her teenagerdom, her human form is going to be far less sexualized. also because i think her canon outfit is a little ugly.

halara doesn't change much from canon. very mysterious and intimidating. no one knows their gender because everyone's too afraid to ask (and to find out, you'd have to pay them about $100 in cash). they still love cats but have an allergy to them, they still don't trust people, etc.

desuhiko changes a lot from canon. he's less actively creepy and more of a wannabe romantic. he has a tendency to fall for grown women, although he has absolutely no chance with any of them. this is played for laughs.

fubuki is another character who doesn't change much from canon. obscenely rich and super out of touch with everything around her. has occasional bursts of intelligence for comedy.

vivia is still everyone's favorite emo sadboy, writing poetry in the fireplace. his passive suicidal ideation, though interesting to explore in media made for adults, is very dangerous to put in a children's show, so we're nixing that. instead, he's just real sleepy and goth. he's also the least interested in doing actual detective work, so when he and yuma are investigating together, it gives yuma a chance to take the lead.

pucci doesn't change much from canon, but admittedly, we don't know too much about her. she's sensitive to noise, very thoughtful and introspective, but very awkward around people being nice to her.

and aphex. what to say about aphex. i don't like aphex for a number of reasons (anyone who played with jpn audio can back me up on this one), but the idea of someone who is initially violent and cruel becoming your (still somewhat violent and cruel) ally is a fun character trope to me. my go-to example is buford from phineas and ferb, and i think that's the role aphex would play. initially a threat, but eventually becomes softer and more well-developed. well, if the show got more seasons.

and that's our main cast! i could talk about kurumi, makoto, and martina, as i have a lot of cool ideas for them, but i have been writing this for like an hour and i think i need to chill ahaha... ty for the ask!!!

[haikyuu-and-more-haikyuu]

Volleyball update :D

(Spring 2024, February)

So I have moved up the volleyball ranks and are now playing on a second division team. I most likely wont play so much in official matches...since I'm a rookie. That is fine, I'm not ready or comfortable yet to play competitive like that with the new lineup and my skills.

On the new team, we use system. That was why I wanted to move to this group. We had only touched on it before, but the practices were becoming a little monotone with how we usually had our practices. Not to be cocky, but on my last team; I was one of the best players ( mostly because I had played the longest). There was a lot of new players, which meant that we all were on different levels and thus we needed to find a type of practice that all could do.

With system, each player has a set position and we play accordingly...so that makes us moved differently from the normal "school rotation". It's a lot of fun to learn, but also very hard. Since we need to move so much around during the rally and make sure we stand correctly when the ball gets served or spiked. I'm slowly getting the hang of the rules. But let me tell you all, the first few times I played like that, I needed a lot of guidenes and I moved incorrectly. I moved to the front at the wrong time and basically cost my side the point, haha. My team mates are supporting and since I'm new; we all are expecting that I make more than a few mistakes in the start. Now a few weeks on the team; I'm slowly understanding more of it. Sometimes I need help to know where exactly I need to be- but once I know that, the rest is easy!

BUT! Guess what positions I get to play as?!

I'm setter!!!! Like the position I have wanted to play in since I started. I have even gotten a lot better at my backward sets and even middle sets. It's a lot of fun. It is still hard. Sometimes, during one rotation; I forget that I don't have a player in front, behind me. I set to "them" and no one can take the ball, since they can't get to it in time to fix my mistake! Haha, but it's very fun to play setter when I get it right. Setter isn't that much of a popular position to play but, I always loved it. It's fun to play and spike the ball and score points. Yet; it's a lot more fun to give a perfect set and see the spiker score a point. That is why I have always loved setting. It's just so giving when I get it right. Luckily for me, there are two other setters on the team that can give me pointers and help me!

I also have progressed a lot with my serves. I still have some that just go out-of bounds. If I really get into it; I can get a lot over in one go. I also have this thing that my first serve will get over and on the second I'm either too confident or something and I just send it to the net or out on the sides. They're coming together slowly. When I feel like I have the hang of it; I will either see into float serves or jump serves.

I also have some knee injuries. Just overtrained, but they hurt. I actually went to a physical therapist and got some help to build them up again. I had like a one and a half month break from volley during the christmas break and my knees stopped hurting. I went to one practise and honestly though my knees were more or less good to go. Or that it would at least taken a few weeks or months before the injury would come back. Well, it took like that one practise for me to reset my recovery. I'll think I just see how it goes and keep up the rehabilitation workouts with my knees. While playing setter isn't too much jumping, it can be a lot of twist and turns for the knees when running to the right place on the court. I'm fine when I play, it's just after practises it hurts. So well, I just see how it goes and take it from there!

We just had an internally tournament in the club. All team can participate and they make new teams across the teams so we get to know the whole club. It's mix volleyball and a lot of fun. My team got fourth place in the whole tournament. The nice thing about this tournament, is that even when we have first division players that plays together with the newcomers- we all play fairly and just have fun. Of course, we all want to win; but we also want everyone to have a great time! I was very tired after the day, since it was like six hours together in the hall and playing and being referees back to back the whole time we were there. It's a good kind of tired though.

So there is that. I'm currently a rookie setter! It's a lot of fun and I can't wait until I get to learn more about playing as setter and helping my team mates in that regard!

(who made that gif?? so stupid, but very funny. I swear the HQ fandom is on crack sometimes haha!!)

[softsky-daily]

8/20/2024

Today's skies were like nostalgic memories.

Positive thing: I had therapy, and had matcha after class.

Thank goodness for that too, because otherwise my day was absolutely miserable. I don't usually look forward to classes starting, but this time was especially rough. There's no malice intended with them but icebreakers are the bane of my existence, and having to tell everyone I don't have an internship site and feeling sensitive about it was not my idea of a fun time. The icebreaker from my other class was very convoluted for no reason (probably because my professor used ChatGPT to make it, ugh) and took forever to get through, and we didn't get a break until an hour later after she went over the syllabus.

I have one other class on Thursday, but at least that one isn't on the same day I have work so I can have more energy to get through it. And hopefully since it has more people we won't bother with a drawn-out icebreaker (I have a feeling we still might though).

The classes themselves so far seem... eh. I think it's the burnout again but I don't think there's a single class I can think of that I'd be excited to take. I just want to be done and over with it. Internship class is basically just supervision so that's whatever, although I'm not looking forward to being the odd one out and being internship-less. My Applied Career class seems like mostly busy work, but it only meets every other week and I'm going to be practicing career counseling outside of class hours. Despite everything I'd say that's the most interesting sounding thing so far, so hopefully it'll actually be something I can enjoy and not just endure.

I'm so tired. I couldn't comprehend my own classmates today who were saying they were good or excited or even anxious. I feel an exhaustion so deep in my soul I don't even know how to express it, only that it is viscerally isolating. I hate most of all how it chips away at my patience and my empathy. I have confidence in my ability to consciously choose to be kind, but that too makes me tired, and I don't know when I'll ever be able to get the rest I need. I was telling my therapist about it today and he encouraged me to be more open about all these feelings and trust that the right people will be supportive and help me through it. I admit I'm really bad at that, but I know he's right.

Tomorrow is work. I might not go in though. I was mentally spiraling all today and the last thing I can think of is trying to be a functional employee. I've missed a lot of days and I feel bad to miss another, so maybe I'll just go in late, but we'll see.

[metrovaliz]

Hello everyone, I haven't been here for a long time, I just don't know where else to tell everything that happened to me I mentioned in some posts that I have a girlfriend, or rather I was In general, I recently turned 18 and I went to my girlfriend's city, we had a good time , then I had to take the train home and everything seemed to be fine until they started ignoring me, disappearing at work , and then she tells me that she wants to take a break from social networks , I'm waiting for her return, in principle, I understand that what- it's not like that, but I'm not as worried as I was later. her friend writes to me, merges a lot of messages, it turns out that she had some kind of experiences and she does not know what to do with the relationship, I hear about it all for the first time as a result, I am very upset I was hysterical because of all this, I had restless dreams about her where she also does not answer me what happened in the end, the next day she appears and tells me that she saw me as a friend all this time and I'm like, why didn't they tell me about this before Like I'll get over it, I was rather sad because of the uncertainty and silence in which I was kept . In the end, we remained friends with the friend who leaked the messages, she decided to stop communicating, because of the drain and, in principle, he was obsessed with her and did not understand the concept of love only obsession and hated me because of jealousy, he also told her to die jokingly and when in response she said something like that, he said that he would kill himself in the end because of her desire to stop communicating with him, he swallowed a lot of pills trying to take his own life, as a result, he vomited them up And she decided not to end her communication with him because he had changed Every day it's so fucked up Basically, when I went to see her, I didn't feel any pleasure. As a result, I just want to go to a therapist. I did not go to a psychologist or a psychiatrist, because I already went to a psychiatrist and I was canceled a course of antidepressants because I drank them for a year But depression has not completely left me, I just feel like I usually have a neutral mood, like I can still feel negative emotions, but not positive ones. Honestly, I'm just tired. Tired of constantly plowing and not getting any praise in the form of positive emotions, tired of failures in my personal life Now, in principle, it is difficult for me to perceive my otp after parting, i think look at my otp "love seems to exist only in fictional universes" or "is it for sure that my otp will not part as well?" Because of this, it is more difficult to draw pictures And in principle, I do not know what to live for, I have not received any reward for my efforts as emotions for many years, it also seems pointless to draw pictures I just want to be happy, at least to drown out the bad moments in my life with positive emotions that I don't have. I don't even hope that I'll ever meet a soulmate anymore. I don't even know how to react to this whole situation with a girl and her friend. I did everything according to the method that was advised to me in a mental hospital, but a year later I still can't get out of depression and the funny thing is that I have a mild but lingering depression, I can't imagine how difficult it is for people with severe depression, if I'm not so bad, but it's still hard for me In fact, relationships often end in breakups, these are my fifth in a row, and in principle it would be strange if the relationship started at my age of 17 and lasted until the end of my life, like this is a very unlikely outcome of events, in fact, my whole life is still ahead, but I have not felt any pleasure from life for a long time and the problem is that my depression was caused by loneliness, in principle, there was a series of very bad events in my life that led to this And in fact, I remained that hunted outcast Unfortunately, while I was being held in silence, I received letters with death wishes from a "fan" who had been friendly to me before

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

BARBIE/WANDA

when I started shipping it if I did: At least the last couple years. I've been simmering on this AWHILE on and off in the back of my mind.

my thoughts: I am so very normal about them:) no really, the image of Barbie as a princess and Wanda as the lady knight, going into danger and facing her fears to save her, trying to look out for her well-being and draw her out of herself - but she does it in a way that doesn't feel like a therapist, it feels like the gentle badgering and not-really-bullying of a friend, is everything to me. I love both of these characters so much and they just *work* as a unit.

What makes me happy about them: How much their relationship would be built on a foundation of genuine friendship and trust. Like, Wanda is snarky and teases Barbie as much as anybody but she also is so caring and gentle with her when she's crying over Martin Tenbones, she immediately drops everything to rush to help her even though she's shaken up herself. And Barbie travels to another state using what little money she has to do one last thing for Wanda even though she's legally not allowed to do anything to help her. They feel like peak friends to lovers to me.

What makes me sad about them: the entire original ending to Game of You. And also that there's again, SO LITTLE CONTENT OF THEM ALMOST NONE. What is it with me and the rarepairs...

things done in fanfic that annoys me: People, give me the fanfic first and then, MAYBE, we can talk. I am starving, do you hear me? There is NOTHING on AO3 and they barely even have their own tag here. I've only ever seen one other person yet besides us even talk about this as a pairing on this hellsite. Period.

things I look for in fanfic: ANYTHING. GOD ANYTHING okay. I would love to see some au fluff but also I want some exploration of the aftermath of their canon adventures and the scars it left them with and what it taught them. But honestly most of all? I want to see Barbie and Wanda still recovering and Wanda's aunt shows up because she saw the building collapse on the news, and she's all concern - but she also calls Wanda her nephew when talking to Barbie, more than once. And Barbie for once is the one to correct her. And when it keeps happening, Barbie is the one to get defensive and protective. Because Wanda usually stands up for herself but her aunt is the last family member who hasn't disowned her, and so she'll put up with more from her, to a point in the hopes that she'll come around and the desire not to lose her. But Barbie can safely defend her without that fear.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I don't have any other ships I think?

My happily ever after for them: they both live and they ride off into the sunset together, like the ending of the Telephone music video.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Wanda is the little spoon. She didn't expect this because she's the taller one, but Barbie tends to sprawl in her sleep when she's alone unlike Wanda who likes the fetal position. When she's in bed with someone however Barbie migrates to the heat source and clings. The first night Wanda ended up with Barbie wrapped around her back, warm and soft in one of Wanda's old shirts as pajamas, clutching her around the waist and snoring softly in her ear, Wanda decided this was her favorite way to go to sleep and could never go back. Also Wanda still has nightmares of being suffocated, in the dark, alone, after the building collapse, of a room with blood and a flayed corpse but they tend to come less often when someone's there. And Barbie can usually wake up and tell when Wanda starts whimpering and twitching in her sleep, so she can nudge Wanda out of the nightmare. Wanda isn't used to being the one who's held but maybe now she could be. For her part, Barbie has discovered she likes protecting people. She likes the feeling of being useful, of holding on fiercely and actually fighting for what she wants, for the people she cares for. It's something she had to get used to but a true princess must learn these things. To hold and to comfort the woman she loves, to hold fear and cold at bay...Barbie feels like a knight in shining armor and a princess at the same time. It's a feeling she likes. Also it's the least she can do after all the ways Wanda looks out for her.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Watching horror movies, Hallmark and Real Housewives together.

[creativia10]

The Cartoon Therapist

Dr. Emile Picani had decided to come to Jericho as the new town therapist. Wednesday has her first session with him, as she is still mandated by the court to see a therapist. Dr. Picani likes to use examples from cartoons to help his clients. It's certainly a unique form of therapy practice for anyone who is not familiar with his methods.

Word count: 2179

Warnings: mentions of a gruesome death,

Notes: Disclaimer the following is not an accurate representation of an actual therapy session. As I am not a therapist. The following is inspired by Cartoon Therapy and various fanfiction therapy scenes. Also my own sessions as a patient and this video. I tried to take what the therapist in this video pointed out was wrong and make it better here.

Emile has had all kinds of patients in the time he’s had his practice as a therapist. He will admit to himself though, this situation did stick out. Not that he would say so to his new client. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel more ostracized than she possibly already was.

Of course, Emile was well aware of court-mandated therapy sessions. He didn’t get such clients often. Maybe the courts didn’t think he was serious enough. But he was a bit of an emergency replacement for Wednesday’s last therapist. Nobody expects a beast attack after all. Apparently, Emile was the only therapist who offered to replace Dr. Kinbott. This was likely due to other recent events that had happened around the city of Jericho.

To Emile, that seemed like even more of a reason to go over there and help. People would definitely need therapy after everything that had happened. Of course, it did mean his current clients would have to make some adjustments. Many of them were willing to travel to see him at his new location in Jericho. He certainly would not have expected that of them. But it was sweet in a way. He was glad he had such a positive impact on them.

He was at Dr. Kinbott’s former office. But he had gotten the chance to add some of his cartoon decorations around the room to feel more like his.

He started with his typical new patient intro.

“Daw. Duh duh daw dee  daw dee daw. Duh duh daw dee daw dee da de de da de de da de de da de de da.”

Emile continued with his song. He gradually waved his small jazz hands in through the door and made his first entrance.

Wednesday stared at him with wide eyes. Which he was used to from a lot of his new clients. He caught his breath for a moment before walking over to sit in his chair. He cleared his throat and sat up as he turned to face her.

“New patient, do you how do?”

Wednesday continued to just stare at him.   

“Ah, was the intro a bit much? Sorry about that. I try to start things off fun, but it’s not for everyone I understand.”

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change.

“Well anyways, let’s get into it. I’m aware you had been seeing the previous therapist for a bit.”

“Yes, she was brutally murdered by my ex, who was also a patient of hers,” Wednesday said.

Well, that was probably something they would need to get into.

“How did you feel about that?” Emile asked. “Remember, anything that is said in these sessions is completely confidential. The only exception would be if there was a plan of imminent harm.”

“Well, at the time I had thought she was a suspect in the killings by the beast. Or at least, the master of the beast. So I suppose I was surprised that she was the latest victim. Now though, I’m not sure. Perhaps disappointed I was wrong enough for her to end up being the latest victim.”

“Why was she a suspect?”

Wednesday crossed her arms and leveled him with a look.

“What is the point of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“You had a suspicion of her for a reason.”

“There were various factors that went into my suspicion. I don’t see the point of recalling what lead to my suspicions of a false suspect.”

“Very well. You know what this reminds me of?”

“The Joker?”

“No, Dipper from Gravity Falls.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh that’s fine, I’ll tell you about him. Dipper is a boy in the Cartoon show Gravity Falls-“

Wednesday grimaced. “A cartoon?” She looked around. “Ah yes, I did notice a lot of children’s cartoons memorabilia, even if I don’t know what most of these are from.”

“Ah, well cartoons aren’t just for kids. In my sessions, I show people how cartoons can relate to them more than they realize.”

“I would take no joy in imagining such a world as depicted in animations. Makes me sick even thinking about it. Colorful and over-the-top. Like a rainbow threw up all over an extravert’s fever dream.”

“Ah, well cartoons aren’t all the same. Gravity Falls certainly isn’t like other cartoons. I’m not saying you have to watch it anyways. I just like to use the show as a relatable example. To help people reflect on themselves, in an often easier-to-process way.”

“Relatable?”

“Just hear me out. You may be surprised. Dipper is a boy from an area very different than Gravity Falls. In the show, he spends time briefly away from most of the family he usually lives with. In his case, it’s for the summer. Gravity Falls is a strange town. He spends much of his time there investigating it’s mysteries. Sound familiar at all?”

Wednesday didn’t say anything.

“It’s not unusual for kids away from home for the first time to throw themselves into something. As a distraction.”

“I didn’t go looking for a mystery, it was already there. And I’m not a kid.”

Emile hmmed. “No, I suppose not. You’re a teenager. And I wouldn’t say Dipper was looking for something either. He had the drive to uncover the mysteries he could tell were there. To the point where mystery hunter became a bit of his identity there. What do you think of that?”

“I’m not really sure why you’re pushing so hard to see if I relate to a fictional character from a show I have never watched.”

“I’m not trying to push it, I’m sorry if it came across that way. I wanted you to think about it.”

“You can’t force me to think about something.”

“Of course not. That’s not what I’m trying to do here. This is our first session. Our back-and-forth responses to this topic can help us get to know each other better.”

“Why would you care about that?”

“Well, it’s a lot easier to help you out when I know you more.”

“I don’t need help. I do a lot on my own perfectly fine. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t mandated to be by the court.”

Emile nodded.

“I understand that. I think it’s a good idea to try to get what you can out of this though. Therapy can be helpful to all kinds of different people. Many therapists see their own therapists as well.”

“My therapist before Dr. Kinbott had a mental break after seeing me and had to go on a three-month sabbatical.”

“That sounds like redirecting. I think you see my point.”

“You don’t know whether I see your point. We just met.”

“I suppose that’s true. Which is why we are getting to know each other.”

“This is pointless,” Wednesday said. She stood up.

“Do you need a break?” Emile asked.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes at him.

“It’s okay if you do, or if you need a change of scenery.”

“I don’t need a break. I just don’t need this.”

“Well, unfortunately, because of the court mandate, you can’t skip out on part of a required session. Feel free to get comfortable as much as you can though. This is supposed to be a safe space. I’m not expecting you to immediately feel that way about these sessions. This is your first time with me after all. But I will do my best to try to help you with that.”

Wednesday sunk back into her seat.

“I can’t see comfort as something I would seek out here. Not when I’m being forced to be here.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I do understand though.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe not in the same way. I do have a degree in psychology though, so I know some about it. Is there anything you would rather talk about?”

“No.”

“That’s alright. How about we switch to safer topics anyways though? Are there any shows you do enjoy?”

Wednesday furrowed her brows.

“I do not watch a lot of shows.”

“Alright. What do you enjoy doing then?”

Wednesday sighed.

“I like to play my cello.”

“Oo, that sounds cool. How long have you been playing?”

“Several years now.”

“Neato. When do you enjoy playing it?”

Wednesday shrugged in response.

“Do you play it often?”

“Not really.”

“Do you have any preferences to play when you do?”

She hmmed for a moment.

“I like more edgy and dramatic-sounding songs. It’s soothing to me. Plus there are classics for a reason.”

Emile nodded.

“Well, that is certainly a style.”

“As many say.”

“Were you trained in that style or did you learn them on your own?”

“I was trained classically. It wasn’t too difficult to adapt to my more personal preference for music if the written music was up to standard. My taste in music usually went over better back at home anyways.”

“I see. So your family shares your taste in music?”

“Mm, not completely, but mostly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pugsley is more likely to dapple into more modern trending styles at times. Not that we hear so much in our household. But we all appreciate the dark and edgy in the Addams household.”

“Do you think your parents influenced the type of music you chose to play?”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes.

“My music style is my own.”

“I’m not suggesting it’s not. Just that a lot of times our interests are influenced by a combination of things. This can include what we are exposed to and the interests of those around us, such as the people who raised you.”

Wednesday hmmed.

“I suppose I can’t completely get rid of my parents’ influence when they did raise me. I can begrudgingly admit to such a thing, but I certainly don’t make a habit of copying them. I am my own person. And very different from others.”

“And there is nothing wrong with wanting to discover your interests in your own way. Different from authority figures you’ve had in your life. Although, that does make me curious. Why are you so adamant to keep from copying anything from your parents?”

“Because I am not my parents!” Wednesday exclaimed.

“I am not like them nor do I want to be.”

“Why don’t you want to be? Not that there is anything wrong with that, but it seems important to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Perhaps not. That is just how it seems from your reaction to it.”

Wednesday huffed.

“I just don’t want to, and I couldn’t if I wanted to. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, there isn’t. And it’s ok if you don’t know.”

“You keep saying things are okay,” Wednesday muttered. “But I don’t understand why you pushed just to back down.”

“Well, in therapy we encourage you to talk things out if you need to. But different patients also have different comfort levels. I don’t want to push a boundary that would get you to shut down. What’s important is you get as much help out of this as you can. It wouldn’t benefit me at all if all I managed to do was make you uncomfortable and upset.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Emile glance at the clock.

“And that is all we have time for this week. How are you feeling?”

Wednesday didn’t say anything.

“Okay, same time next week?”

Wednesday stood up.

“Might as well be.”

“Great!” Emile stood up as well. “Well, I hope this session went well for you. I know first sessions with a new therapist can be uncomfortable. So, hopefully we can continue to form a bond of trust from here. Have a good week Wednesday!”

For a moment Emile thought she wouldn’t acknowledge him. But then she nodded with that expressionless face before stomping out. He hoped things got better with her. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a client that was hard to get through to in the beginning. But he especially felt for ones like her. Who had gotten rotten luck in the therapy department before. Everyone deserved support. Especially kids, or teens like her who he just knew was a great one.

-

The appointment with Wednesday's replacement therapist did not go how she’d expected it to. Although this was hard for her to admit to, even to herself.

There was certainly less invasion of privacy at least. Not that she would let her guard easily, but it felt less like a battle. He backed down more, but still maintained some level of control. She wasn’t sure how he did it. Admittedly, it was nice. That this therapist didn’t have the potential to be connected to a killer mystery. At least, as far as she knew at this point. He wasn’t even from around here. She was a bit surprised. They found a replacement rather quickly. And the replacement actually seemed competent.

Well, she had no plans to give in to him easily. But hopefully, these sessions wouldn’t be as annoying.  

[del-uxie]

to stop counting In which an Arasaka goon goes to therapy. (warning: a pinch of spice be careful..........)

Ever since you started working here, you’ve had to go to their shrink and not your own. The legs they paid for lock up if you try to do anything else while it’s on your schedule. If you had it your way, you’d stop going altogether. You can hardly stand looking at him, but he won’t prescribe you the drugs you need if you stop.

They gave you a man much like yourself, in many ways. When you get there, you like to hover in the hallway and let your optics watch him before he notices you. Today, the muscular man is sifting through various pieces of paper with deep concentration. He doesn’t move a lot or make any annotations. Just sits there, reading, occasionally looking up at the slowly-spinning ceiling fan.

Your pupil sweeps over his body. Yes, even the medtechs at Arasaka have to stay fit. Even so, there’s rumours that he wasn’t originally slated for this job at all. They say he was slated for head of security, or perhaps even personal bodyguard work. Groomed from a young age for the job. The very same job that you’ve sat your pretty ass in. He can’t have got very far though, because he has no scars and no chrome to show for it. There had barely been a glint of recognition at your shared destinies when you first met.

If he had better chrome, you think, he could see me spying on him right now. I could be an intruder and he wouldn’t notice, wrapped up in analog scraps like he is. Your eyes zoom out again. No point delaying the inevitable. After all, he’s not the one who’s ended up with a psych appointment.

The Beastmaster puts away his papers prematurely when he hears your heavy footsteps plonk down the corridor. With the amount you weigh, every step is calculated. It’ll get better once your body adjusts, but until now – you’re not aiming for speed, anyway. You’ll still be deployed for your usual work. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating how obvious you are.

His easy gaze meets yours. “Come in,” he says, gesturing to the black, perpetually uncomfortable therapist’s lounger just across from him. “You were a few minutes late, so we need to start right away.” Your therapist looks too big for his body in that tight Arasaka synweave suit of his. He has a slightly unshaven stubble, yet none of it threatens to betray his professionalism. Not even the long, barely-styled hair that trails down his back, which has never been in fashion at the corps. It would make him look bohemian if you didn’t know him better.

He tucks a few stray grey hairs behind his thin rectangular glasses. “Tell me how you’ve been feeling, Finn.”

Silence. A total gap. Every time he asked this question, all thoughts evaporated from your head. It was as if someone had scooped your brains out with an egg spoon.

The Beastmaster shuffled, attempting to get comfortable. Even though sitting around all day was the problem and not his position.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk, Finn. This is a mutual relationship. Without letting me in, there’s nothing I can do for you.” The words wash over your head. What could you possibly say to a stranger? You look at the clock. Three minutes and forty-five seconds have passed. Now forty-eight. Now fifty...

“You know how it is.” You attempt to grunt out. Your voice sounds a little strange coming out of your mouth. It must have been a few days since you had to use it. You’ve just been so busy with work. “I get paid.” Somehow, the Beastmaster appears satisfied, as if these eight words mean anything to him. His pen is ready to be pressed to the paper. Agonisingly analog.

“Your words. In such little time, you convey so much.” He crosses his legs. “Do you think this pay is enough?” You mull it over, looking at his face for a little then at the clock again. You had chrome before, sure, but this stuff from Arasaka is top-notch. Every night you went out looking for more, you would never know whether the job would be your last. At least you know when Arasaka’s pushing you off a cliff. Yet...

“Hard to say.” The words haven’t given you as much time to think as you thought. He’s giving you that expectant look again. “I don’t want more eddies. Know that much.”

“But...?” The man offers. The steam of his coffee creates condensation on the window. “I’d say I miss being free.” You shuffle in your seat, this time, when the problem is that you’re a delusional wreck and not your position. “Truth is, I stopped being free the moment I stuffed my body full of this much chrome. Doesn’t matter whether I carry on the merc life or not. Final path is still the same.”

The Beastmaster nods. “Either a slave to your mind, or a slave to Arasaka. That’s why your co-operation is vital.” He finally starts scribbling something down. “What does your daily routine look like?”

You get up when you get a new call. Usually you sleep about one or two hours per day. Some time ago, you got a neural implant that compresses your brain activity so you still get the same amount of sleep as a full eight hours would give you. You’ve been having weird dreams lately.

“I’ve been having weird dreams, lately.” you start, before realising that isn’t what he wanted. What else? You eat breakfast. Drink some tar-black coffee. Do your shots. Take your pills like a good puppet. Puppet, you mouth, the sensation making your groin ache. Go piss. In the span of less than ten minutes, you’re ready for a day of work. You organise all the security teams in different parts of the world. Communicate with team leaders. Identify threats as they arise. Provide advice and direct assistance where needed. Where often needed. You go crash whenever it looks like things aren’t dying down (usually a bad sign), but when things stop changing. Then you wake up when someone needs you again and the cycle repeats itself.

“I know you didn’t ask. My dreams are probably more interesting than my schedule to a man like you.” Even you don’t know what you mean by that. The Beastmaster looks surprised, even bemused. He puts his pen down.

“Hm. If you say so.” He glances at the clock. “We have time to spare, and I can tell you’re still good to take your drugs without abusing them. You have your prescription,” he says, eyes flashing as he wires the authorisation to you, “It’s up to you whether you stay or not.”

A challenge. You always accept a challenge.

“I’ve got a feeling it’s down to my NoSleep,” you begin, tentatively. “But I’ve been having these really vivid dreams. They feel real – not surreal like lucid dreams, I’ve had those before when I was...” You remember trying this step-by-step guide with one of your nomad friends when you were barely past being a teenager, and smile to remember it. “More flesh than I was chrome.” Your therapist nods, urging you to continue.

“I’m floating in the middle of space.” You’re floating in the middle of space. “There’s something in the distance, but I can’t quite make it out.” There’s something in the distance, but you can’t quite make it out.

Then  it comes into focus.

Everything  else is gone. Where were you, before? You don’t remember, but it doesn’t even  matter. Your hands are still chrome, you’re still you. You can see Earth from  here. The sun is so hot and so bright that it would blind anyone with off-brand optics. You’re drifting, and the sensation is nice. The stars are  still distant, and you’re infinitesimal compared to them.

Something  starts to approach before long. It’s a green, winding figure that curves  around planets and galaxies near and far. It approaches you, then you get a  long, horizontal view of it. A green, reptilian snake with a rogueish grin and apple-green cheeks. Faster than it should be for its size, it winds and  contorts like the dragons you’ve seen on parade, only real and far more  majestic for it. Lightning flashes from its mouth occasionally, illuminating  the vacuum of light for the first time in millennia.

You think you’re safe, but it seems to notice you, eventually. It turns to you,  and slowly approaches. You know your life should be flashing before your  eyes, but it’s strangely empty. When it’s mere centimetres from your face,  you can see your reflection in its well-polished scales. You’ve made a habit  to stop looking in mirrors. These days, they don’t even work unless you tell  them to.

You  don’t recognise the man in front of you. Instead of a man, there’s a perpetually shifting grey cloud from which you can make out eyes. Eyes that bulge yet appear two-dimensional, flickering in and out of existence. You can till see your fangs, though. They’re unnaturally white in the fog, as if lit from within. So are your eyes, even though you don’t wear contacts.

Your  stomach lurches.

Something  is going to come out of there fast and there’s nothing you can do to stop  it.  The metal in your chest warps and  cracks. Several readings start to go haywire. A green snake begins to erupt  from you, until there is barely anything left of your shell of a body. Your  consciousness – your mind – it doesn’t go with the snake, though. Or maybe  not yet. You hope not yet.

You’re  delirious, scraps and spacedust barely holding it together with the last bits  of power your battery tried to transfer to you. All you hear is a voice – it sounds like a woman.

“I  know you gave it all up a long time ago, Finn, but there’s one last thing  that only you can do. Because of what you are.”

A warm sensation on your chest.

And  a sinking feeling that your days are numbered.

The Beastmaster doesn’t say anything as he listens to your half-baked explanation. You know you’re not putting it into the most sensible words possible. He’s interested at first, then concerned, and then just plain attentive. When you’re done with it all, all he has to say is this:

“Do you think it’s prophecy?”

“Wh- I thought you weren’t supposed to be encouraging my delusions, Doc.” Your face furrows.

“It’s a dream, not a delusion. Unless you seriously believe it was real.”

Do you? You’ve believed worse. Believed a whole squad of mercs-for-hire Arasaka had lined up for you were scavvers looking to steal your chrome. They had really been out to get you, and though you’ve repented and recognised the symptoms of your mental illness... you still believe they were. Arasaka set you up, and they’re still... still... no, no. You’re fine now. You’re not paranoid. You’re doing your job. You’re getting paid. One foot in front of the other.

This is different. Feels more...

“It feels like a message, if that’s what you’re asking. Maybe from my subconscious.” You shuffle. It might be the chair, actually, not you or the position. These things were designed for form, not function. From the way your therapist’s desk is (not) organised, you have a feeling the Beastmaster feels the same way.

“Subconscious. Not a word I hear from you a lot, Finn.” He smiles. It’s hard to tell if it’s genuine or not. He sees so many people every day. “You’re making real progress, believe me.” You resist the urge to scoff. You want to believe he means it. Your heart claws at stability every day. These little promises mean everything to you, in spite of what you’ve become. He puts his papers away – you didn’t even notice him taking all those notes – and shuffles them into a neat little stack. “That’s us for today, but for homework, I want you to think about what it means for me. Maybe consider keeping a dream journal if they persist, and we can work on them next week.”

You nod as you leave. You’re halfway down the hallway as you turn, even though you shouldn’t. Just out of habit.

The Beastmaster looks at the stack he’s just made with utter despondency. He looks into the dregs of his coffee cup, swirls it around a bit, then puts the kettle to boil again. After watching the kettle bubble and shake, he starts talking into an earpiece.

It has to do with another patient. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and walk down the corridor. There’s a convoy to intercept, and you were supposed to be there yesterday. An hour ago, sure, but even that, well...

It feels like yesterday to you.

[oxabyssxo]

i'm updating this post now (end of september 2024) because i'm no longer suicidal. longer personal post about my updated life situation below the cut.

this blog will continue to exist as my 2010s tumblr nostalgia blog, and as a diary of dealing with this relation and abuse until it either ends or improves, when i have nowhere else to write. but the blog will no longer serve its original purpose of distracting myself from death by trying to feel comfortable with nostalgic things.

sadly the whole reason i was suffering so much turned out to be that my gf of 4 years, who supposedly loved me just as much as i loved her and we were going to get married, was severely cheating on me while on long-distance, and lying to me and manipulating me. i was suffering very badly for a year because she had started acting strange, but i didn't think the extent of her behaviour went that far. i believed her and thought she's just having a really bad mental health time, which of course is still true, but i didn't think that it was this kind of delusional and unempathetic episode where she suddenly didn't care i exist anymore.

i was about to kill myself both before she admitted to the serial cheating (because i was suffering so much and so alone from her acting a different personality for 6+ months) and after she admitted (because the betrayal hurt me worse than anything else that's ever happened in my life, and that's something, because my life has been really, really horrible).

but, i got help, and i stayed at a mental ward for some days and was open about what had happened to all docs and nurses. when i felt stable enough to go to my parents' house to stay there, i told my parents what had happened even though i hate them. i also told my siblings (adults). i also told some online friends. it was a huge relief opening up about how abused i have been, even though i hadn't really realised how abused i was throughout the relationship until now.

after that week at the ward, for the first time in my adult life, i experienced some positive feelings inside me while doing things alone with my siblings / online friends and not thinking about my partner. this showed me that i can survive. that i can be happy without her, and without anyone (at least for now).

so ive been suicidal for 7 years, but i'm not really suicidal now. because i found out that i too really can be happy doing things without a partner, but it just takes time and a lot of help to get out of that position where you feel you can't live without them. it was necessary for me to stay at the ward for a while. it was necessary for me to open up about the relationship and abuse to friends and family and have actual support, instead of trying to protect my partner by keeping quiet about it.

i don't know if anyone will ever read this but if you feel like you can't live without your partner even though they hurt you or they're difficult to live with or they outright abuse you, please seek help, do what i did, open up about what's really troubling you in the relationship to someone (a therapist, trusted friends, preferrably both and more). it's not easy to hear "you deserve better" when you feel like that's not the issue - the issue is that you love that person even if you "deserve better". and the love makes you feel you can't handle being without them. but this really heavy aching for them can also pass even if it doesn't feel like it can right now. even if you feel your souls are tied together. i promise it can change. you just really, really need to stop protecting them and open up about it, and get yourself help and support, try to enjoy things just for yourself with other people than your partner, and then take it from there.

i'm leaving my original intro below so you can see the contrast.

xxx

im a wreck on my last chance before giving up. i have been suicidal for years and if it doesn't get better soon i can't handle this anymore.

i dont give a shit if anyone follows or not, but if you do i want you to be aware im anti capitalism, im against all rich people including your fave celebrities and brands (they could be saving lives and the planet but they arent), im queer, im disabled and broke, im against sexism, queerphobia, racism, ableism, colonialism, classism, fatphobia. the governments and the rich ppl with their companies have fucked over our planet and all the rest of us and i despise them.

when i post disney and similar shit im trying to comfort myself with feelings from back when i still felt hope and aspirations and motivation to stay alive which i no longer have. its not out of supporting companies or being blind to issues. im just a sad human trying to survive and dont know how. if you know how then tell me.

i wanted to be an animator or a comic artist or make games. i liked taking photos, crafting, cooking, going out on walks or biking, singing, going swimming, and horses. i dreamed of being fitter so i could wear more fun clothes and feel happier about the person in the mirror. i wanted to be loved. but i couldnt and cant relate to others because im queer and im weird. i dont like most people and because of that i dont have any real friends. im so lonely. i cant relate to anyone. im never represented anywhere. i just wish that i couldve gone to uni and gotten a degree in something i liked and gotten a job in something i liked. instead im laying here alone and wondering how much longer i can hold on before i give up.

[micahthemoon]

December 31 2023 It’s New Years eve, the last day of the year. And what a year! I’ve experienced so many great things in my transgender journey this year. To honor those accomplishments, I’ve dedicated today’s entry to highlighting one post from each month and what I consider the most significant experience, good or bad. Here’s to a new year full of yet more great opportunities to grow, to learn to love myself and find myself. Micah is checking out. See you in 2024.

January = Sickleave I was not-forced-but-kinda-forced to go on sick leave from applying to jobs. Honesty, I fear that starting therapy would ruin my chances of starting hormones someday. But I don’t think I can wait any longer. I might need to bite the bullet and find a therapist. Pray to whoever that this doesn’t take away the progress I made in medically transitioning. Or worse make people invalidate my gender identity because ‘Mentally Ill ™’ (01/04)

February= Second appointment and BMI wakeup call After four months of waiting, I finally had my second appointment at the gender clinic! All went well except the scales. I don’t own a scale at home – I won’t risk hating myself more because of a number. Thing is, I am around 15-20 kg heavier than six years ago and at least 5 kg too heavy for top surgery atm- And I fell into my own trap of feeling horrible about my body because of it. (02/14)

March = Legally changed gender It happened! I finally got the message that my gender id is legally changed now! It feels so surreal! I’m honestly filled with so much adrenalin I didn’t even have time to second guess writing to my Banks, insurance and other important systematic institutions in need of the news! Gah, I want It all to be fixed now but it takes time and really, I am just overjoyed! (03/02)

April = Starting minoxidil First day using minoxidil!! I got it yesterday yet decided it would be fitting starting on a Monday. My daily routines are getting so crowded now both including minoxidil and tattoo aftercare. I think it’s a good thing in terms of making a routine to when I hopefully get testosterone. By then hopefully I’ve learned from all my past mistakes – like this morning where I put minoxidil on before eating my breakfast. Take it from me, minoxidil doesn’t taste great. (04/17)

May = Third appointment, reached weight goal You know you’ve mastered your mascara game when your gender therapist is wondering out loud whether you’ve started HRT without him knowing. I really enjoy how confused my mascara beards can make people. But alright back to the gender identity clinic appointment I had today. It went well better than I’d expected and if all goes well, I might be able to start testosterone way earlier than I’d expected too. And the cherry on top I am now under the cut off weight for top surgery!!! (05/15)

June = Starting a positive relationship to my body (image) Something strange happened when I was going to bed yesterday. For some random reason I started feeling my torso and I didn’t feel disgust about it? I touched every little bit of stomach, waist, and hips to figure out why it felt this neutral maybe even good suddenly. I have never liked how this part of me felt or looked so this was such a surreal experience. The feeling disappeared as quickly again when I lay down, but it did make me want to try to do some morning stretches. Success, I guess? (06/01)

July = Getting my gender validated by somebody I trust Today the camper that has been here the longest (she had 20th anniversary this year) told me that back when we first met, she couldn’t connect with me. Like I had a wall up to the world. Now that wall was gone, and she could finally see me. And she almost felt attracted to who I was now. Coming from her this means so much to me. I might not need people’s permission to transition but at the same time knowing what I do seems right to others is a huge relief. Thank you so much for telling me. (07/20)

August = An almost-approval for HRT I got the answer from the gender clinic about t. The answer is ‘maybe?’. One person was on holiday, and he needs to look at my case before the team can approve it. Don’t get me wrong I’m glad that everybody else seemed on board. However, I am a bit annoyed given that the team knew when they’d discuss my case for two months and they didn’t make sure everybody was present. Or at least let me know beforehand if not everybody could be present, so I wouldn’t get nervous without reason. (08/10)

September = An actual approval for HRT Guys!! GUYS!!!! It happened!! I am now gotten approved for testosterone!!! I am so happy I spend way too long trying to make an ig post about it!!! Sure, I still must wait for preparation appointments and blood tests and all of that but just knowing I am officially approved and on my way to get started is amazing. I even bought myself a celebratory licorice even tho I try not to snack (felt only half bad eating it)!!! (09/11)

October = Participating in baseline meassurements for HRT study I was at some pre-t tests for a study I’m participating in. We went through different physical tests, muscle strength, lung capacity together with scans of the heart and bones. Overall, it was alright especially given how awkward I’ve felt about the EKKO scan of the heart (first time since my ex I had no shirt on in front of another). What ended up being the worst was the CT because I got the dizziness side effects from the drug, they gave us. Glad I did the test but wow I am tired now. (10/31)

November = Starting HRT And so it starts fr. Here is my first (if not counting the pre-t one) testosterone update!!! I think I should maybe for the next ones try to do it before doing my mascara beard just to see if you can see any difference in my 'clean face' over time. (11/23)

December = Finding new way to measure voice pitch I got myself a new toy: a voice pitch analyzer app!! I was suggested this app by a trans friend as another fun way to document my transition and so I just tried it to make a sort of late baseline. It says my pitch is on average 173-178 hz (depending on language) which is in the female range (feminine voices tend to be classified as between 165-255 hz while men’s around 85-155; I googled it). Looking forward to seeing the changes over time. Maybe it can become a tool for gender euphoria! (12/17)

[patchlessworld]

what should i even do

the previous doctor had diagnosed me as social phobia. but for some reason when i started seeing a new doctor, it’s like everything is wiped and they don’t know my history at all. so they’ve never mentioned anything about social phobia. maybe I don’t even have it.

and all that said, now my clinical psychologist (let’s call it therapist for convenience sake) suspects that i have Panic Disorder, while the psychiatrist thinks that it’s just a part of my depression. My parents have told them about incidents of me panicking on the streets and in restaurants, shortness of breath and hands being stiff and other symptoms, and the doctor thinks that it’s not frequent enough to be diagnosed as panic disorder.

In the last session of therapy, my father again told the therapist about two incidents that he saw of me showing those symptoms. Then the therapist told me that when this happens, don’t worry that my body is failing, and that i won’t die or have any physical problems. And then suggested me to pay attention to the surroundings.

but it’s because i paid attention to the people around me, that i started to panic. and i’m not afraid at all if i’m dying.

i’m not worried at all about my body, i’m not scared that i will die, i know very well that i won’t die actually. And I even wish that it was this easy, that 10 minutes of excessive breathing would kill me. I want to die after all.

And when I panic, I actually avoid even seeing a shadow of the people around me, because i’m too scared to do so. It always begins with me seeing a bunch of people, a crowd, eyes etc. that I start to fail at even walking. The surrounding is what I’m scared of. The people is what I’m afraid of. How am I supposed to even make a glimpse of the surroundings, and even focus on it, when every time this happens it’s cuz of me overreacting to the surroundings??

I know Panic Disorder. Positive feedback loop? Scared of the next panic attack? I’m not an expert, but at least I get the general idea. The doctor also didn’t diagnose me at all. But speaking of which, he said that cuz it’s not happening like weekly or something, it’s not enough to get diagnosed as a disorder. BUT I BARELY WALK OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE, AND THE OUTSIDE IS WHAT MAKES ME SCARED. I’m always free of “threats” (aka people), so I don’t panic because I’m in my own room with no one except myself.

“Just tell them” some might say, but i’ve barely talked to them at all. I could go to a session, and say nothing, not even any response, and go home without expressing anything except shaking my head when they asked me if i have anything to say. And i don’t want to talk as well. I don’t want to trust anyone anymore. And if I talk, I might start trusting them, and break down when they leave. Plus I hate me when I talk. I suck at communicating and expressing. Especially when i’m in front of a stranger (like them), my verbal skills would actually become like a 2-year-old who had just learned to speak. So every session ends with me not even producing a sound.

Yes it’s my fault. Yes none of this would happen if I actually speak. Yes I’m complaining about something that could be solved if only I had uttered a word. Yes I should go kms, because nothing can help. Haha