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bubblybubbubs · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1 2

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #ginny weasley x reader #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hinny #ronmione #hp #draco #malfoy #x reader #stuck with me #angst

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buckleyblueyes · 4 years ago

Note

Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #my fan fiction

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watery-lane · 4 years ago

Text

Words into Smoke

The Night You Cared Sequel.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 3864

A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go.

(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.

Part I / Part II / Epilogue

Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.

Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours.

Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.

Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk.

Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.

Some nights were... Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human.

Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown.

Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.

For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort.

The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time.

“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”

“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.

It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.

“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.

“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.

“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.

Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.

“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”

Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent.

Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.

Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:

“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”

Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.

With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.

Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.

Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.

It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”

He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down.

But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.

“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.

Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.

“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.

Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.

That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.

With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:

“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.

“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.

“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.

Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.

Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.

Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.

Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee.

It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.

Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to... normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.

Tonight, he thought about you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.

He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.

Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.

Dear (Y/n),

He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.

Hello.

“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.

Hi, princess.

Ivar cringes. No.

Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?

Just... Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated. It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected.

And so he did.

Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.

It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.

I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.

At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.

He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried.

He wished you were there to see it.

Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is...

And now that you’re gone for good,

He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.

all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.

Ivar huffs in frustration.

I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.

I know you would have never wanted this.

But I know you would have never said no to us.

Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.

I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off.

Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.

Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.

I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.

The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.

I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.

If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Take care,

Ivar.

Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.

With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope.

He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.

All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.

Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.

His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.

He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.

Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.

The end.

Taglist:

Note: This is the old taglist I have noted from my past Ivar ficts. Please let me know if you want to be removed or added by sending an ask here.

@aesstheticallypleasing @captstefanbrandt @unicornbaby741 @fuckthatfeeling @huffelpuffers @yannii04 @collecting-stories @timber3 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @vampsclassiffied @lenafarn @yourpurplequeen@youbloodymadgenius @lettersofwrittencollective

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar lothbrok/reader #Ivar One shot #ivar the boneless one shot #ivar lothbrok one shot #ivar ragnarsson one shot #ivar ragnarsson imagine

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hollanderfangirl · 4 years ago

Text

Let me go |Harry Holland|

Pairing: Harry Holland x Therapist! Reader

A/N: so I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, well if you don't consider the sessions with my psychology teacher. All of what I've written comes from what I've learnt in psychology class, reading books and listening to other people's experiences.

Warnings: talk about death, panic attack and it's just really sad

Word count: 3.3k, this is my longest fic yet :)

(Sorry for the shitty moodboard I just had to post this fic or I would have lost my mind)

Harry Holland walked through the halls of the clinic, not really sure why he was here. Well he knew why he had come to see a therapist but he wondered how he put himself in this situation. He had been locking himself inside a glass cave built out of hopelessness for months, his friends and family were greatly concerned about him but he refused to take any help. He had always been stubborn, he never asked for anybody's help. He hated the look of pity on people's faces. He hated people showing him sympathy. He was more than this. He didn't need anybody. He can pull himself together, he just needed time.

But it wasn't helping. Burying your feelings in has never helped anybody. Putting on a smile everyday in front of people and crying himself to sleep, Harry found it more and more difficult. His mum had sensed it and told him to go and see a doctor. He had resisted it at first.

"Please do it for me, Harry. I cannot see you like this, at least for my satisfaction," Nikki had said. "Just go for a trial session and if you like it then you can continue," but of course he wasn't going to continue.

Now as he stood in front of the receptionist, he was reconsidering his decision.

"Yes, do you have an appointment, sir?"

"Huh?" he seemed lost. "Yeah..yeah"

"Just wait here, I'll inform Dr Y/l/n"

"Your know what, cancel the appointment. I- I don't need help"

"Oh but this is just a trial, Mr Holland"

"Yeah but I don't-" the receptionist was already at the door, muttering something to the woman inside.

You step outside to see a curly headed man, he looked pleasant but his eyes looked sad. Those were the eyes of a person who had seen immense grief, someone who had been miserable for a long long time.

"I'm sorry but I don't need therapy… I didn't realise this before, I -I shouldn't have come here"

"Oh Mr Holland, this is just a trial right? Let's just have some coffee. This isn't therapy yet" you smile at him.

"No I really-"

"Okay then, give me half an hour. If you still feel the same way, then you can leave. Half an hour is all I want from you, Mr Holland"

"Alright"

You lead him into your chamber, closing the door behind you. He sits down on a couch across from you, your desk separating you both. The first step of therapy- resistance. People always resist therapy at first, they feel like they don't need the help or maybe seeking help makes them weak. They don't feel like opening up to a complete stranger. How can they? How can they open up their most vulnerable state to a person who they barely know? But slowly and steadily, a rapport is made. A therapist has to be very careful and empathetic. They have to be trusting. Someone who people can turn to. Someone who they can relate to. Someone who understands them. Someone who would just listen.

"So, your mother sent you here. Right, Mr Holland?"

"Just- just call me Harry"

"Okay then Harry, tell me"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Everything. Start from the beginning"

"Well I- do you… do you really think I would-" he hesitates. "Who do you think you are? Why do you think I should pay you to listen to my goddamn life story here?"

"You're not here to tell me your life story," you say politely. "I'm here to help you and I can do that only if you would let me"

"Well guess what? You cannot help me, I knew I was wasting my time," he gets up and starts to walk away.

"I asked for half an hour of your time, Harry"

"Well I don't fucking care"

"Harry, please listen to me. All I ask is half an hour"

Little did he know, this half an hour was going to change his life.

Something about your tone made him stay. He sat back down on the couch, turning away from you.

"Okay, so if you're not going to talk, I will," you sigh. "So, you have suffered a great loss, someone you loved dearly?"

"Yes," he still didn't look you in the eye.

"Who was it?"

"My…my friend. Girlfriend"

"And when did this happen?"

"A year ago"

"How have you been holding up?"

He thought of giving another vague answer. How the fuck do you think I'm holding up? I'm fucking dying every single day.

"Uh- it's been a little better, I guess. It's not as bad as it used to be"

"Well that's a start. And do you still think about her?"

Every goddamn minute, lady. What do you want from me? "Yeah sometimes"

"And how have you been sleeping?"

I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly for months. If I sleep I see her coming back to me. "Alright I guess"

This wasn't going anywhere. You thought of recommending him another doctor but something about him charmed you. He was a man who should have been living a great life but his grief was tearing him apart. You had to help him. You felt a strong connection to him, you felt determined. No, I have to help him. I just have to.

"Harry, do you feel like you're responsible for your girlfriend's death?" it was a straightforward question, you had been trying to get something out of him but he wasn't ready to.

He looked at you dead in the eye, yet could not get any words out. You could sense the anger building up inside him but it wasn't projected at you, he was angry with himself.

"I….. " he took a few deep breaths, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes"

"Why is that so?"

"Fucking hell! Are you for real? She died, okay? And I wasn't there… I wasn't there.. " he was tearing up. "I should have been the one to die! Not her! Not anybody! Everyone just leaves me in the end!" he was full on shouting, letting out everything he had been holding inside himself for a whole year. He had tears in his eyes.

You handed him a box of tissues and he was gasping for breath. When he had calmed down, you both sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You know, Harry, my friend died the day we had a fight. She was my best friend. I knew her ever since we were three. It was a silly argument. We should not have fought about it. But we did and I told her I wished she would just go away… and then she did" it was painful for you to remember this, but time does heal everything.

"I'm sorry," his voice was low. "And I'm sorry for all those things I said"

"No it's alright, that's what you're here for. And besides, it's nothing compared to your loss, Harry"

"No. It- it's not a competition. Suffering is not a competition. It must've been really hard for you, Dr y/l/n," this was the first time he had addressed you.

"Call me y/n," you smile at him. "And yeah that's very true. We often blame ourselves, you know, it's very common. We cannot be angry at them so we get angry with ourselves. Even though we know deep in our hearts that there was nothing we could have done"

There was a long silence.

"She went out for a drive, that bastard drunk driver," he spoke up. "And I was just resting. She asked me so many times to join her but I wanted to sleep"

You nod at him and he continued. "That's…the reason I'm not able to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I think I'll wake up to that phone call"

"Well yes I don't blame you, our brains sometimes don't process things that come as a shock. And then it just keeps on haunting us forever. Do you believe in life after death, Harry?"

"Well I don't know what to believe"

"Have you- felt her? After she was gone?"

"You'll think I'm crazy"

"I'm a therapist, it'll take you much more than that to convince me you're crazy"

"I sometimes talk to her. Like what would she think about this particular situation. Or just that I miss her so much. I don't get any responses but I just try to think like her?"

"Yeah, that's quite normal actually. People think they need to 'get over' someone's death. But that's not true. You can never really get over something like death"

"And what does getting over even mean? Like you just forget them? Moving on with your life just means that you think they were never a part of it"

"Well you're both right and wrong. Yes we must remember our loved ones who are not with us anymore but at the same time, we have to let them go"

"How? It's too painful"

"I know. But do you believe in the concept of souls, Harry?"

"Yeah I mean," he shrugs.

"The soul is considered to be immortal. And groups of souls tend to travel together. Even if you don't know it, some way, somehow, they're always with us"

He says nothing but his eyes looked softer now.

"And just think about it, think of her seeing you like this. Do you think she could have handled you being so miserable?"

"She would have been heartbroken"

"Exactly. So do it for her, for yourself. For both of you to feel peace again"

"Yeah"

You look at your watch. Half an hour was up.

"So, Harry. Your half an hour is up. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, um we can talk about it in our next session?"

You smile at him. "Of course"

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

After that one half an hour session, Harry was a changed man. He was still mourning, he was still miserable but he had hope. For the first time in a long time, he thought he could actually go on with his life, he could finally feel peace.

The week went by smoothly. Harry tried to make himself busy, by surrounding himself with people and always working. He was still getting nightmares but he was determined to sleep. He was sleeping light, afraid of what deep sleep might show him.

Meanwhile your life was exactly the same, you went on with your day treating people, talking, helping them. You loved your job, you loved the sense of satisfaction you got after patients they told you they were finally better. Every person was a challenge, and you knew there was a gem hidden inside every one of them. All of them had immense potential but life hadn't been kind to them. You felt disturbed and it broke your heart to see people hurting. And you would do anything to make it better for them. To help them.

You couldn’t keep Harry out of your mind. You were thinking about him all day long, awaiting your next session with him. What if he cancels? What can I do if he does? Why am I thinking about him? He had this air around him, a magnetic pull, which was pulling your closer and closer towards him. And why is he so damn attractive? No I should not think about him that way. It was the first and foremost rule of your profession. Never get emotionally attached with your clients. It was a professional relationship and must remain that way.

When he came into your office the following week, you could sense the change in him. You felt proud that a single session made such a difference. There was no arrogance in him, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He was calm and better.

“So, Harry. How was your week?”

“It was good, I’ve been shooting my new short film and it’s coming out to be okay so far”

“Alright and how have you been sleeping?”

“Not that good to be honest. I still get dreams, uh bad dreams”

“What do you see in these dreams?”

“I see the accident scene….again and again, it’s the same dream. Sometimes I see her, she talks to me and all that”

“Hmm and have you talked to your family? Your friends?”

“Yeah I talked to my mum…and my brother”

“What did they say?”

“They said they are here for me and will always love me”

“Yes and I don’t doubt that, Harry. You have a lot of people in your life who love and support you. Embrace that”

The session went by smoothly, he opened up to you about his life, everything about the girl he loved so much. About his family, his career. You found yourself staring at him, taking glances at his hands which he constantly moved while he talked. You noticed he was shaking his leg the whole time. Stop staring, y/n.

Wow she’s so beautiful. And thoughtful. And funny and understanding. What am I doing? She’s my therapist….but…why couldn’t I have met her before? Why didn’t I meet her when I was normal? Would things have been different? But then again, I would have never met her if I was normal.

Things seemed to get better, as the weeks progressed, Harry was becoming more and more like his old self again. But there was a feeling of regret, he thought this was wrong as if he were forgetting her. But you were there to guide him, to tell him that this is what life is. It never stops. No matter what happens, you will heal. Someday, sometime. And each day we progress towards it.

And then it happened. The call came at 1 am in the morning. You were sleeping and you were tired, you had been working all day and just needed some rest. You wouldn't have picked the call up but something told you it was important. That you should pick it up.

“Hello?” you yawn.

You just hear muffled breathing for a few seconds.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It…it’s me…Harry”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” you thought what could have happened at this time of the night.

“I just- can you-” he sounded like he was choking.

“Harry what’s wrong, you’re scaring me”

“I… can’t… breathe,” you hear him sobbing. ”I had… that… dream, I feel like I’m…going to…die”

“Harry, listen to me. You will be okay. Yeah? Just take deep breaths and sit tight. I’m coming to you”

You search through his file to look for his address. When you find it, you rush through the front door and drive to his house. You were on the phone with him the whole drive.

“Just keep breathing, Harry. Deep breaths, okay?”

To your surprise, the front door was unlocked. It looked like he had gone out into the street in the middle of the night. You search through rooms to find him, and you see him curled into a ball at the corner of a king size bed. You touch his shoulder and he flinches.

“Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s alright”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he was crying, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked small and they looked red from the lack of sleep and of tears.

“It’s alright, Harry. Just come here, it’ll be alright,” you pull him towards yourself him and he buries his face into your chest and you held him, stroking his hair and telling him it will be alright.

“That’s it. Let it out, Harry. It’s okay to cry”

You both stayed like that for another 15 minutes. He couldn’t stop crying and you knew he needed that. He had been holding everything in for so long and it just came out like an explosion tonight. You wiped his tears and made him meditate for a few minutes.

He fell asleep and you stayed up all night, looking at him. He looked so innocent while he slept, and cute too, you thought hiding a blush, even though nobody was there to look at you.

That night, Harry finally felt at peace. He was finally able to sleep. He had no nightmares, just a peaceful dream. He saw his girlfriend, running away from him in a white dress with her hair flowing in the wind.

Please don’t leave me, darling. I love you.

I know you do Harry, but you must let me go. I will always be with you. I will always love you. It is time you start caring about yourself, you must let me go. It is time.

No! don’t leave me!

And he woke up. Something about this dream told him that she was right. It was time. He was finally ready to let her go. For both of their sakes.

He went down to find you sleeping on the couch. He was hesitant at his thoughts but deep down he knew he was falling for you. Am I just using her to cope with my loss? Or do I really love her?

You opened your eyes, looking at Harry sitting on the ground, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

“Better. Really really better. I- I don’t know how to thank you, y/n and I’m so sorry”

“Hey it’s alright, and I’m glad I could help,” you smile. “I should go now, I have to get to work”

“Let me make breakfast and let me drive you to your house”

“Oh no it’s okay I can-”

“I owe this much to you, y/n. Let me”

“Okay”

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

It wasn’t until another week when Harry had his next session. You had been thinking about him all the time, you were confused, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. But he….who am I kidding I’m in love with him.

When he walked through the door on a Thursday morning next week, he looked healthy and happier than ever. You felt a sense of happiness yourself, therapy is always beneficial to both the patient and the therapist. Every person is a deep universe, their thoughts, experiences, pain, joy, everything. Empathising with clients is a great learning experience, it becomes a part your personality. It becomes a part of you.

“Hey y/n”

“Hi Harry”

“So my week as been as it’s always and I’ve been feeling a lot better ever since that day…and that dream” he had told you about the dream he had the night you watched him sleep. He seemed to completely change after that, he let go of the intense emotions he had been carrying around.

“That’s very good and you’ve made a lot of progress since our first meeting”

“Yeah…I have”

The session went on as usual, he talked about everything that happened, he started fighting with his brothers again, which he hadn’t done in a long time and even though they were pissed off at him, they were happy to have him back.

“Um Harry,” you say at the end of the session. “I think-” you try to choose your words correctly. “I think it’s about time you start seeing another therapist, yeah?”

You see his face drop. “wh-why? I’m doing so much better, is..is it because of that night? I’m so sorry y/n”

“No it’s not that. You and I both know what’s happening between us, it’s wrong for a therapist to get emotionally attached with her patient. I’m sorry, Harry”

“So you’re saying that you’re becoming emotionally attached with me?”

“I..I’m-“

“It’s alright. I understand y/n”

“Yes, thank you. This has been great”

“So… now that you’re not my therapist, can I meet you for coffee this evening?”

“Harry-“

“Half an hour, Dr y/l/n. Just give me half an hour of your time, if you still feel the same way, I’ll never bother you again”

“Uh-" you hesitate. You knew you should have said no. You were going to say no. Yet the words which came out of your mouth were “Okay then, it’s a date”

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

Taglist:

@mischiefmanaged011 @notsosmexy @perspectiveparker @justanothermarvelmaniac @amorhollands @thisetaernallove @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @peterspideysstuff @musicalkeys @theliterarymess @ilarbu @hollands-weasley @tombob2005 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @parkerpeter24 @more-like-reyna @hollandbroz-n-haz @aqiise

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland imagine #harry holland angst #harry+holland+x+y/n #harry holland x therapist! reader #harry holland fluff #harry holland fic #harry holland one shot #therapist! reader

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faithhopeloveandtherapy · 3 years ago

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Therapy 31.08.21 // negligence

My last post was a while ago, so for reference, I was asking T if she believed me when I said that I wasn’t sure whether d3 ever needed treatment for her hips. T was struggling to understand. T started talking talking but I’ve no idea what she said. I was trying to work out how to explain how I felt, so I interrupted whatever she was trying to say (I have no idea what it was) and said “Let me try to say it another way.”

“Imagine you had a relative in hospital and after a week they died. If you believed that absolutely everything that could have been done in that week was done and sadly it hadn’t helped, then you would be sad but at least it would be a straight forward grief to process. But what if in that week, lots of errors had been made, and then the relative died. You never know whether those errors caused the death or not, so alongside the grieving, then you’re also trying to deal with anger and process what happened or didn’t happen for your relative.

I continued “And then there’s another group of relatives, where nothing untoward did happen, but they don’t want to accept that their relative was just going to die no matter what, so they find all things to fix the blame on. They find fault in things where there wasn’t really any fault, because it gives them a focus away from the fact that their relative died.”

T was nodding along and seemed to be with me so far. I said “So I’m asking which group of relatives do you think I am in? The ones with a genuine grievance or the ones that are just trying to channel their grief into blame elsewhere?”

T asked “Which group do *you* think you’re in?” And I said “Well, all relatives think they’re in the group with the valid grievances…. which group do *you* think I’m in?”

And then T sat on the fence and tried to tell me that it didn’t matter what the reality was, that all my feelings about it were valid. I said “You’re sitting on the fence and I guess that gives me my answer. Because I want you to say, ‘oh gosh Faith, that’s really shit that all those things happened to you and no wonder you found it difficult’. And instead, you’re saying, ah well, maybe it did happen like that or maybe it didn’t…” As I said this last bit, I could hear my voice starting to get a bit irritated and mocking and I tried to calm it down because I knew T was trying hard to understand.

T said “But in your scenario with the relatives, it would have been negligence!” And I said “Well *I* think it’s negligent to run a clinic which you forgot to cancel, with no consultant supervision, with someone who has no experience doing what they’re doing!” And FINALLY, finally, T said ahhhh I think I’m starting to understand it a bit better now.

#therapy

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etirabys · 5 years ago

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Rec: meditation

I started meditating with the app Headspace in 2017, and started using the app Waking Up this past month at the same time I started meditating a lot more. Part I of this post is a comparison of the two apps, meant to justify why I think someone getting into meditation should start with Headspace. If you are not interested in meditation but enjoy thinking about the human mind, the description in Part I of what Waking Up teaches may still be interesting.

Part II describes my motivation for meditating and what I think other people can get out of it, Part III gives specific recommendations for meditation.

Part I. Headspace vs Waking Up

Note before I go on: Headspace and Waking Up are both paid apps. Headspace is $13/month. Waking Up is $100/year, but many redditors in threads I read about Waking Up before buying it assure me that the team really wants people to meditate and will give it to you for free if you produce a good reason, like “I cannot afford this but I find meditation helpful”.

I think I’m getting about five times more out of Waking Up because I started with Headspace. Some things that I think are very useful before starting Waking Up that Headspace teaches better:

Being sufficiently good at staying at your breath that you can by default stay with your breath for 3 cycles before you get distracted

Being sufficiently good at noticing when you're distracted that distractions are normally <=1m

Either finding body scan (moving your attention down the body, tuning into signals from different subsections) easy/intuitive to begin with, or being familiar enough that you just 'know what to do' when prompted

Headspace teaches you these in a more accessible way. Waking Up asks you to perform new mental motions in almost every session of the introductory sequence, and I think it’s hard to get something out of this if you’re busy struggling on the basics listed above.

Headspace has a 30-session introductory course, where each session is 10m. Even if you never do another Headspace pack, I recommend this. I also endorse speedrunning it by doing it 2/day and finishing in 2 weeks.

Each Headspace course (1 course = 10-sessions with a theme like ‘Anxiety’, ‘Mindful eating’, ‘Pain management’) has 1~3 of the following techniques associated with it:

Body scan (moving your attention from your head to your toes – practicing letting sensory data fill up your mind)

Noting (basically installing the TAP of noticing when you have a thought, emotion, or sensation that is not the thing you intend to focus on, and bringing your attention back to the object of focus, using the breath)

Reflection (Emptying your mind a bit first, then asking yourself a specific question, or rather letting the question sit in your head, letting potential answers come and go)

Focused attention (focusing on one thing, noting when something that is not that rises to your mind, watching the thought run its course, which it generally will much faster if you're watching it rather than running it, and then going back)

Resting awareness (think and feel ~normally without an object of focus, but have a watcher process that's looking at thoughts and feelings interleaved with the process that's actually having those thoughts and feelings)

I don't think Headspace is very good at articulating and teaching the last two techniques. Waking Up teaches those two better, and those are the interesting ones.

Waking Up's schtick, as interpreted by me, is that it asks you to

Model your mind as a projector screen (or mirror, or ‘space’) on which things are appearing,

Notice how much of what's on that screen appears there without your input (like bodily sensations or sounds),

Notice an increasing set of things as 'things that appear there without your input',

Notice the 'you' that is the watcher-entity / consciousness that is separate from everything on the projector screen, because the watcher is not producing mental phenomena

And once you have this model and a visceral sense of using this model to move your mind the same way you use the model of a car to drive a car, you can do things you couldn't do before when your model was "my mind is me, making choices and doing things", e.g. having greater control over how you react to a thought or emotion.

My current view is that focused attention is the practice you do to familiarize your mind with using the "the mind is a screen and watcher" model instead of the "the mind is me" model, and resting awareness is just the thing your mind will do a lot with normal life once it is used to using the model. Like constrained exercises in physical therapy vs normal walking.

Waking Up also teaches you to

5. Notice that the watcher does not really exist – that every mental effort to ‘locate’ the watcher will fail.

because part of what WU tries to teach you is to let go of the notion of the self, completely step out of the “my mind is me” model. The creator thinks that letting go of this is a fundamental component of the mental transformation the practice of meditation is for. I am personally not very interested in this and am electing to ignore this / not actively learn it.

Part II. What for?

My original motivation to meditate came from failing to meditate the first time I tried it, being aghast that it was so hard to do something as simple as focus on the breath for even one minute, linking it to my general lack of mental discipline, and deciding meditation was an obvious way to try to fix.

I have not seen tangible improvement in mental discipline. But after a month of meditation 20m/day on average, I’ve seen tangible improvement in emotional control and what I’m going to call a-freedom-to-choose-the-self.

I have several instances per day where I’m feeling frustrated or anxious or guilty, switch into observer mode, and kind of watch the observer process take up more and more CPU until the original process isn’t running at all.

I sometimes recognize when I’m lost in a thought or feeling that centers around a desire to control or set the course of the future – whether that’s on the scale of hours (will I get enough work done today) or years (am I going to get divorced in the next decade) – and immediately translate it to the present: will I do some work in the next minute, am I paying enough attention to my partner’s existence and needs today. You don’t need meditation to do this, exactly, but it really helps to have a visceral feeling of your entire life being composed of slices of ‘the present’, that the present is sort of the only thing you can control and be responsible for. And have that visceral feeling, it helps to have a lot of practice tuning into the present, which meditating trains you to do.

What I’m labeling freedom-to-choose-the-self is the feeling of (1) having a thought that’s pretty tightly anchored to you – e.g. a sense of judgment about something you’re consistently judgmental of people (including yourself) for, investment in maintaining your status in your workplace or gaming forum that you’ve been part of for years, (2) switching over to the mind-as-screen-and-watcher model and regarding the thought/feeling the same way you’d regard traffic noise that’s happened to arise outside your house, (3) thinking “do I want this thing attached to me? Is it good for me? Do I like it?”, and (4) if you don’t, letting it go with the same gentle indifference you’d let go of the traffic noise. Crucially, you’re not rejecting the underlying drive that generated the thought, or severing it from the self – you’re just choosing not to make that particular thought an “I-thought”. Your future self may very well have a similar thought and choose to claim it as an “I-thought”, and that’s your future self’s prerogative.

Please note that I am still impulsive, undisciplined, full of stupid feelings, struggling with my job, and that I had a ridiculous fight with my partner just this week that was 90% my fault. I am merely happier and more in control of myself as I do all this.

Part III. Where do I start?

Here’s an extremely prescriptive schedule. I have designed it for someone exactly like me.

Get Headspace for a month.

Do 10 minutes every day for a week. (Headspace says the first week is free, which might mean that you can cancel in the first 7 days and pay nothing.)

If you don’t hate it, kick it up to 10m twice a day for the rest of the month. The introductory 30 sessions teach Body scan and Noting, you should definitely do those. After that you can do whatever you want – Headspace’s courses are very similar to each other, despite the names. I liked Acceptance (Body scan, Reflection), Transforming Anger (Focused attention, Body scan), and Managing Anxiety (Body scan, Noting). If you want to try a Headspace course that teaches Resting Awareness you might want to try Pain Management (BS, FA, RA).

After the month is up you should have meditated for about 9h, which I think is a pretty good start.

If you’re still interested at this point, quit your Headspace subscription and get Waking Up, either by paying or asking politely.

Waking Up’s intro sequence made of 10m sessions. Do one a day, and follow it up immediately with 5~10m of unstructured meditation where you just set a timer and either meditate on the breath or continue practicing what the day’s WU session told you to do. The sessions are kind of dense, so do repeat or revert sessions as needed.

Do ramp up. Doing 40m every other day was the frequency at which I started seeing interesting mental shifts after several weeks. (40 consecutive minutes, but not continuous practice – I don’t have enough discipline/attention for that. I do 10m of a Waking Up session, and then 10m each of focusing on sound, breath, and body scan.)

?? (time passes? other things?)

You are a different person? Maybe chiller and nicer and more productive? We do not know.

#rambl #meditation #headspace #waking up

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occasionalmagicandcurses · 4 years ago

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its been about 10 years

But I’m back. I did therapy for a year and honestly all it got me was agitated. I remember the days of yore when I would sit on my tumblr home page, refreshing constantly and making new friends through whatever current horrible experience I could put to words in my life at the time. Whether it was the milso shit I was on (he was a cheater, and I was just a girlfriend), or the love for pokemon or anime, I always made a friend. I’m still friends with so many of them to this day. I’d skip whatever homework I had to do and meticulously pick at the code for my theme, calling to the days even further back of myspace and (dare I say it...) xanga. I learned about my internet etiquette through here. I paid way too much attention to the rules and regulations, even dipping my toes in some internet drama. I was an early witness to the birth of “cancel culture.” It was here that I developed my dreams and material aspirations for the future.

And 10 years has flown by. I’ve got two degrees, a staggering amount of debt, a few more earth shattering relationships, and 1 cross country move to show for it.

They say that no matter where you go, you are there. Whoever they are, they’re right. And it is draining to have to carry myself around everywhere. I can never seem to be completely upright. My anxiety says “gnaw on your fingers until they bleed” or “buy one more pair of shoes” or “shake your leg until even your dog looks at you funny” in an attempt to mitigate some of the pressure in my jaw. My depression follows up with the gambit of “you have no self control” or “no one will want you” or “just hold off on eating, it’s not going to do anything for you.”

I turned 30 years old 3 weeks. Feels the same as 29, except now 40 is 10 years around the corner, instead of 11. None the less terrifying or grim. I have an awful spending problem, undoubtedly an overcorrection from my poverty-stricken childhood. Ever seen cheese that doesn’t melt? I learned how to count from the monopoly money-esque appearance of food stamps. My mom would make it a game. I found it fun until we started having to leave baskets of food at the register because something was wrong.

Trauma, its delicious, I swear. We bounced from home to home, changing schools by the semester and allowing my brain to continue to develop on its fucked up axis. I struggled to make friends and struggled even harder to want to try. I knew it would all blow up anyway. I told the most elaborate lies to hide my home life. I’d say my grandmother was a doctor, and I’d hide that I couldn’t afford breakfast at school by saying I was trying to lose weight, or not have a full stomach for band practice later in the day.

I got on the overcompensation train pretty early. I finally got tired of my mom’s repetitive failures and walked out of the door at 17. I never lived with my mom again. I never want to be like her. To be 53 and living paycheck to paycheck with two kids I never wanted and still can’t parent correctly? Count me out.

I burned through college and graduate school. I have a career I am pretty kickass at. I love what I do.

I decided to change directions (and time zones) about 3 months ago. When I say I was bored, I was b o r e d. Professionally, I felt stuck. I had a job I was good at, but didn’t want to move up in. It was lacking the spark that made me love my field to begin with. I was living in a city I’d been in for the past 20 years. I was a year past the breakup from a relationship that literally and mentally broke me in two. Absolutely devastated me. I sometimes cry for that life on occasion. It was pure misery and happiness that I don’t think I’ll ever experience again. I still feel I’m not worthy of one or the other. There’s always a price. Both, or it isn’t real. Comparison (and infidelity) were the thieves there. My unbridled anger too.

I packed up my car and my dogs and took the mom that told me she would have had a great military career if it weren’t for me and drove halfway across the country. I flew her back home a week later, and not a minute sooner. Being in close quarters with her always stews a rage that turns me into not the daughter that’s pushed for 25 years for her to be a mom, but the daughter that hates the mother she never had. I drove the entire trip and never really could quantify why I wanted her to come, except to say it might have been a latch ditch effort of the little girl that wanted a parent. I could have done it by myself, and I probably should have.

Getting away has been amazing. I haven’t worked in almost a month and this was the break I didn’t know I needed. I saved up some, but obviously not enough, and now I get to pay the piper in a few weeks. I’m doing stupid things like riding my tax refund and the bonus for the job that I over performed at for 3 years to pull me through. I already got another job but good lord the background check has been sucking the life out of me. I am not a murderer, but I guess they need to figure that out for themselves. I’m slightly nervous for this job. My family and friends think I’m working now, but I am enjoying doing whatever the fuck I want. I blew off the job I got that motivated me to come out here because of the lack of money and transparency.

Then I made the absolute mistake of swiping on tinder. I’m not sure what I get out of doing it, aside from fleeting attention from guys who like to talk about their sex drive, but I did it anyway. I’m not ready for a relationship, and I know it. So I’m forcing it with this guy who works too much and looks 10 years older than he actually is because of it. He smells nice though. I sold him to my gf’s as “he’s great!” and he is. Just not for me. I’ve only had sex with him once because I’m honestly not all that attracted to him. His fingers are chubby, but he’s not fat. I don’t like how he touches me, and I wish he was more dominant. Not in a “smack me around” type of way, but a “hey I wanna do this thing and I’m gonna show you and not really leave it to discussion” kinda way. He could make a great friend, so I’m probably going to go ahead and nip that sooner rather than later.

I think I want attention, but I don’t. I honestly just want to mind my business and start the process of fixing all of my fucking problems. And actually finish.

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notagoodideatodothat · 5 years ago

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Why Veronica Mars broke my heart.

Ok let’s start this. Everything I’m going to write is my opinion, how I felt and my views on season 4. And it’s the first time I’m writing anything that I want to make “public”, but I’m honestly doing it for myself more than anything.

To start with logic, let’s talk about the story of season 4. Some part of the mystery was not too bad, but to be honest it was quite messy. I think it was a bit much for an 8-episodes season and I don’t really think the thing about the Mexican cartel was necessary, and let’s be real, I felt it was a bit racist, but I won’t say more about it because I’m not Mexican/Latina nor American and I don’t feel it’s my place to say anything about it. The bombing of Neptune during spring break could have been brilliant, and the idea of it being link with the debate in town was a great reminder that Neptune was a place with no middle class, which is also the root of the show. But the going back and forth about who the suspects are and the motivation behind all that just confused the hell out of me. I think this is the first issue in the writing of the new season.

The second issue I see in the writing is how Veronica was portrayed. It’s like they forgot who she was, everything she went through and survived. I felt that her relation with Keith is still strong but a bit off; it felt like Veronica was still a teenager. Let’s not mention how she is ignoring and judging Wallace for having a family and a house and showing it as something boring; and the big mess with Weevil. But let’s take a quick second to thank Tina for not getting into this mess. Her friends were so important to her, and that’s also why we loved her. Also her rejecting and making fun of Logan for going to therapy and encouraging her to do the same, like isn’t she suppose to have a degree in Psychology? I couldn’t read the books completely because season 4 came before I could finish them, and I’m not really in the mood for anymore VM right now, but in the movie she was so different than how she was in the new season. The other issue I have, like many fans, is with the alcohol and drug use. Everybody can do whatever they want of course, and even more if everything is legal, but this is so out of character. She was raped because of alcohol and drug. Her mom was an alcoholic and she saw it destroy her family. And this is just in season one. The only time we saw Veronica drinking was in the movie and it was one drink and a beer. If you just really think for a minute you can see the issue. I’ve love this character for a good portion of my life, and I couldn’t recognize her. And I know they wanted to make things more adult, but you can do that without completely destroying everything who’ve built before. Also she has been a PI for so long now, in what world, would she not check her car? There is just no logic to that and you can’t tell me otherwise. Her relationship with Logan had issues too. Like I said the thing about therapy is problematic. But the whole angry sex scene was so wrong. He’s actively trying to get better, to heal his anger, and the only thing she wants is old Logan, when in the previous seasons, particularly in the third, she was so judgmental of everything he was and did. This is just messy writing, and a lack of consistency. And every problems or fights they had just disappeared and they just didn’t really talk about it. If you want to make Veronica more adult, let’s start with her acting like an adult in a stable relationship, which she was suppose to be at the beginning of the new season. It’s not like we decided that it was who she was, you put her in that place. Also telling us that Veronica is more interesting when traumatised, telling that no matter what you do you won’t ever be able to access happiness, that a married woman is not as sexy or interesting; I can go on and on and on. We are in 2019, your show used to be something people brought up when talking about woman on TV, about feminism, and you absolutely destroy that. You just showed us that you know nothing about feminism and what women go through. And the fact that you protagonist is a woman doesn’t change anything about that. A woman doesn’t have to be a survivor of sexual assault to be strong; a woman doesn’t have to be single to be independent; a woman doesn’t have to have multiple sexual partners to be sexy.

But you know what, as a fan of the show for 15years, I was bothered by all that maybe I could have accept it as just flaws, without it completely ruining the new season for me, and hoping they’ll improve her character in a potential season 5. And honestly I thought I was going to rewatched it over and over so I was not really focused on the problems, but on the fact that I was watching new episodes of Veronica Mars, which is something I didn’t think was possible. But they had to kill Logan with no respect, the best character of the whole show, no matter what people say. He went from a proper jackass, a bully, and a victim of abuse, to an adult in the process of healing, with a career no one expected. And also, he was not just part of the relationship with Veronica; he was also a character that we loved on his own. Of course he was an awful person at the beginning of the show, but first he wasn’t the only one (let’s not forget Duncan please thank you and Leo who sold the tapes of Lily and Aaron, which apparently everyone in the writers room forgot) and I’m never going to ignore that, but you can’t deny the changes he made, and his real motivation to get better and this is not something you can say about Veronica in season 4. You know what I need as a victim of traumatic event? To Heal. I’m getting there, it is hard work and this how Veronica should be in season 4, but who was in that place? Logan. But you decided that it was not enough.

I don’t know what happen behind the scene, and I’m not going to speculate about that, but Jason did such a good job portraying Logan, from the start to the end. And his death was unfair, to Jason first, and to the fans. And what was even more unfair, is the lack of closure and grief that was giving to us. We just saw a character that we loved for 15 years blow up after a wedding that we weren’t sure we were going to have and nothing. Of course, I think you can kill major character in show, if the motivations are good, and the death is going to improve the story and/or a character but you have to do it properly. Because otherwise you’re not doing it for the good reasons. I can give you examples of shows that killed major character and did it properly : How to get away with Murder killed one of the main character and we had a whole season dedicated to that death and Laurel’s grief ; Peaky Blinder, and it was quite violent yet still acceptable, proof that you can have a violent end and still do it respectably ; Desperate Housewives killed one of the most important character in one of the last episodes of the show, a fan favourite but we had some time of grief, with a funeral and how every other character had to deal with this death ; Downton Abbey killed not one but two major character in one season ; Grey’s Anatomy is known for killing major character but every time we had closure and grief for us and from the characters ; and to go on the SF side, Game of Thrones did it better than Veronica Mars, which wants to make me laugh. And Glee, for which the death was real, was able to respect their fans, actors, crew and everyone who was devastated by the passing of Cory Monteith.

I completely support that the creators and the writers are free to do what they want with what they created. I honestly believe that if Logan had to die for the show to keep going; I don’t agree but it was Rob freedom to do so. But there were a million better ways to do it without being disrespectful to the actor, the character and the fans. Because yes, a show without an audience, and without fans is nothing. That is why brilliant TV shows get cancelled and mediocre show can go on for ten years. A vocal fandom and audience is what’s keeping a show alive. And when you look at the facts, the Veronica Mars fandom is what made everything possible. Without us, Veronica Mars would have disappeared in the world of cancelled show with good potential but that didn’t have a lot of success. I couldn’t give to the Kickstarter campaign, because I didn’t have a bank account at that time but I bought the complete collection of Veronica Mars when I was a broke student, and I can tell you 45€ is a lot of money, I bought my Team Logan t-shirt, I bought the books, I put my money in it because I wanted to show I was supporting Veronica Mars, and I wanted more. As soon as I heard on Kristen’s Instagram that it was coming back, I was absolutely ecstatic. I followed every account on every platform I was on. I commented on Instagram to express how happy and grateful I was and this is something I never do. I couldn’t stop talking about it to my friends, even though they don’t really watch it. The week before the surprise release I was non-stop on Veronica Mars. I haven’t been excited about anything for a long, long time. And it was destroyed in 10 minutes.

And as you know we can fight to have our show back, but we can also do everything we can to make sure that Hulu and Rob, and everyone involve know how we feel. And ignoring us on social media won’t stop us from expressing our thoughts and feelings. And for the first time you can see fans fighting to end the show we’ve been supporting for so long. After season 4, I can assure you that I’d rather give the movie and the books back so my favourite show would not be ruined for me. And if Rob thinks that the mystery is why we were all watching, he is so wrong. Being a PI is part of Veronica’s character, not everything about her. Her relations and the other characters are what we loved about the show. The mystery part of it was nice sometime, and could be well written, especially in season 1, but this was not the heart of the show, no matter what Rob is saying. He says he wants to make a show 100% about mystery and a detective. My mom loves police shows; she watches everything, Murder she Wrote, every fucking CSI, Criminal Mind, Cold Case, really shitty French Show,...and I can assure you she still watches for the characters. Because no matter the story you’re telling, the characters are the heart of it.

The first feeling I had after spending a whole night watching the new season was real sadness. I think I cry for over an hour. I was truly heartbroken. I’m not in a really good place emotionally at the moment and I was so looking forward to this, I cannot even begin to explain what it did to me. The next week I almost didn’t sleep, and I was a real mess. I had some family that was visiting and all I could think about was a fucking TV show. But when the interviews and videos started to come out, I was absolutely pissed. It felt like a betrayal. Telling us this is what we need, saying Logan was a sacrificial lamb, saying Veronica is in that place now, that they’ll be no grieving. We are adult now; we are not children throwing a stupid tantrum. And presenting us as angry fan girl, who are just pissed because our ship is over is so fucking sexist. And even if we are pissed about that, which I also am, what is the problem? We can love a relation and the character, and still be a “good fan”. Also can we talk about how you used Logan and LoVe in the promo, the trailer, all the social media, to make sure the fans who love LoVe where going to watch. This is manipulating your audience, and from the bottom of my heart, fuck you.

I use to associate Veronica Mars with something positive, a safe space, where my problems were not real, now it’s a lot of pain, regret, rage. The only good thing about all that is the community, you know the fans that you don’t care about anymore. People from all over the world; supporting each other, checking on each other, loving each other. You honestly had one of the best Fan Base behind you Rob, and you just gave us the biggest fuck off of all time. You say you made a bet, and that you hope the fan won’t hate you for it. I can tell you, even if you have a season 5, you still lost.

Because you lost us; and our support.

It’s been a month, and I’m only able to finish writing that now, and it still feels really fresh. I’m still devastated, and angry, and betrayed and so many emotion that I never thought I would associate with Veronica Mars; yet here we are.

And to Rob, and Hulu, of anyone that worked on this, please no more, no season 5, no more social media post. You didn’t give us grieving, so please now leave us alone.

I’m sure it was not really well written, and that I forgot a shit ton of stuff but this is what I think and feel, and if anyone read this, I hope this will maybe give comfort, like reading everyone else’s opinions helped me a bit. Like I said to a dear writer that I love, like always we will get through this together.

@hulu @officialveronicamarsonhulu

#veronicamars #veronica mars season 4 #logan echolls #logan echolls deserved better #jason dohring #vmars revival #burntmarshmallow #weusedtobefans

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violints · 5 years ago

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STUDY : VANYA & POWERS .

* 01 . CAUSE .

vanya’s powers are intrinsically connected to sound. to be more specific : the types of sounds that set off her powers are generally repetitive, high - volume, and / or high - pitched. she fixates on these sounds in a very physical way : the sounds seem to pinball around inside of her, growing in intensity as they do, until it is physically painful to keep them in and she has to let her power out. her powers are specifically a conversion of sound to energy — noise goes in, goes through the filter that is vanya, and comes out as telekinetic force.

the screech of a kettle will almost always set off vanya’s powers ( as both a high - pitched and long - lasting sound & a ptsd trigger, though she doesn’t know the connection that has to her childhood ). if she’s afraid enough to hear her own heart beating in her ears, there’s a near - guarantee an explosion of power will follow. people yelling at her is likely to set her off. repetitive music. her own music practice, if she becomes too engrossed in her violin playing.

the second piece of vanya’s powers is the emotional aspect. her powers are at their most intense when she is in distress, be that fear or panic or anger or grief. they don’t activate in catastrophic ways when she’s feeling positively, though something like the joyful nerves of a first kiss, for example, may make them appear in less noticeable forms. the emotion is equally important to the sound, if not moreso : hearing a repetitive sound when she’s in a neutral or happy state isn’t likely to cause more than a few objects rattling, but panicking without a clear sound to focus on will almost without fail cause her powers to go haywire. it’s easy enough for her mind to pick up on sounds to harness while panicking — if nothing else, her own heartbeat fulfills the requirement quite easily.

* 02 . EFFECT, SELF .

i. PHYSICAL. — as i mentioned before, at a certain intensity vanya’s powers are physically painful for her to hold in. she processes sound the same way anyone else does, though her hearing is slightly stronger than the average person’s, but once a sound is inside her and the prerequisites for setting off her powers have been met, it doesn’t simply pass through and leave. it builds up and builds up until it is all she can focus on. it’s a feeling focused mainly in her chest, and feels somewhat like a heart attack if she lets it get far enough.

vanya also finds it very difficult to speak when using her powers. as a child, vanya did not start speaking until she was four years old, after her powers were taken from her, and was selectively mute for much of her childhood. this returns when her powers are intensely active, as the thought of creating any additional sound is often far too much to fathom.

ii. MENTAL. — obviously, the majority of the time vanya is using her powers, her mental state is already fragile. her powers have a tendency to cancel this out, but go a bit too far in doing so. when in full swing of her powers ( aka, when she is in extreme emotional circumstances and extreme sound and has been in powers - mode for more than a few minutes ), she nearly always dissociates. vanya’s prone to dissociation when not using her powers, but it’s almost a given when her powers get to a certain point. she’ll detach almost entirely from what she’s doing and instinct takes over.

emotionally speaking, a mix of her powers & the 25 years she spent with medicinally dulled emotional range ( which, i want to be clear, is not any kind of indictment of medication as a whole; medication is often a really important piece of treating mental health, and i take meds for my depression / anxiety! this is very specifically a case of misused medication, given to her by her father at a far higher dose than she should ever have been on for the express purpose of limiting her emotional range and suppressing her powers ) makes her very emotionally volatile & prone to high - intensity feelings. nothing happens halfway with vanya, especially emotion. so her powers, too, are very volatile and easily set - off.

iii. APPEARANCE. — the more intensely she’s using her powers, the more her appearance changes. she never becomes unrecognizable, this isn’t a full werewolf - esque transformation or anything, but she does become somewhat ethereal / otherworldly / inhuman. the color will leave her eyes first; even at low levels of power - use they’ll pale significantly to a much lighter gray - brown than her usual dark brown, and with anything higher intensity her irises go pure white. her skin will also grow gradually paler with intensity : her powers focus mostly on sound, but they draw from other sources as well, and as sounds and colors are both ( in very simplified and unscientific terms ) waves of energy, her powers will draw from both. in extremely intense situations ( see : concert scene in 1x10 ) her clothing and anything else she’s in physical contact with will also go pure white. when at her most intense, she also glows slightly, as her powers draw on the light around her as well and circle her with a halo of sorts.

essentially : she’s scary. she does not look entirely human when she’s in the full swing of her powers. though her physical attributes remain the same at their base level, it’s very difficult to relate the white violin, as vanya’s known while using her powers publicly, to vanya hargreeves — vanya when not using her powers is shy and small and a little frumpy looking, and vanya when she’s the white violin looks like a terrifying goddess raining retribution on her foes. unless a person knows her extremely well, has done significant research and comparison, or has a powerful knack for connecting this kind of dot, they probably won’t make the connection without being told.

post - unapocalypse, her eyes will flash white at least momentarily with any use of her powers, no matter how minimal. her power is much more prone to activating after it’s been fully unlocked at the concert in 1x10, and the physical impacts come much more quickly. she trains her power to minimize the outward effects ( i’ll get into that in a bit ), but her eyes goin all spooky is a pretty common thing.

* 03 . EFFECT, SURROUNDINGS .

what are the outward impacts of vanya’s power? when unfocused, vanya’s power presents as an outward wave of percussive force. to work our way up in intensity, let’s begin with a low - intensity use of vanya’s power : she’s a little bit panicked, she’s picked up on the tapping of someone’s foot or the drip of a faulty sink, and she isn’t consciously trying to use her power. objects nearby will rattle, almost as if a low - level earthquake has passed through. a lightbulb may shatter for seemingly no reason. plates and mugs may fall off their shelves.

at a higher level but still unfocused, the wave of force grows more intense. rather than simply shaking objects, it’s enough to push people as far back as the room will allow, throwing objects around like very centralized hurricane. vanya is the eye of the storm. everything breakable around her is likely to shatter, and she has a captivating element caused both by her physical appearance and her power itself — it’s difficult to look away from vanya when she’s fully engrossed in her power.

when focused, her power is much more akin to typical telepathy : a prime canon example is the scene where leonard dies. focused on one target in particular, vanya’s powers grow much more specific — knives flying towards a person, throats slit, etc. in my verses where vanya is actively using her powers to harm people ( vigilante and etc ), this is her primary mode.

* 05 . CONTROL, POST - CONCERT .

when we see vanya using her powers in canon, it’s at a very novice state : she’s just discovered she even has powers and has absolutely zero control over how they appear. after the apocalypse is narrowly avoided, vanya is afraid to even go near her powers for weeks, but inevitably that fear only makes them act out more, so the need to train them is eventually understood. the most effective way of controlling her powers is to work on her emotional state first and foremost. vanya returns to strategies she learned in therapy ( it would be smart for her to begin seeing a therapist again, but it’s a little difficult to explain you’re having trouble coping with nearly having ended the world, and the existence of superpowers is so limited in the tua world that it isn’t as if there’s therapists trained to deal with powered patients, so she tries to cope on her own instead to varying degrees of success ). she learns to remove herself from situations that are setting off her anxiety, and practices breathing exercises. the more she attempts to gain control over her own emotional state, the more control she has over her powers — eventually, even when she’s feeling a certain way, she can minimize or entirely cancel out whatever effect her powers would have had.

( of course, her progress is fairly rocky at first. she will often wake up from nightmares to find every light or mirror or picture frame in her room has been shattered. she does not pick her violin up again until she is fairly confident in the control she has over herself, about six months post - concert. she’s very, very afraid of the thought of accidentally hurting anyone she cares about. )

she is good at minimizing her powers when she doesn’t want them to cause trouble, but the reverse is also true : her skill extends to activating her powers when she needs them, consciously allowing her mind to seek out the sounds around her and consciously tapping into her emotions. it’s still in progress, of course, but activating her powers consciously is much easier than suppressing them, and she can nearly always summon them up when she needs them.

* 06 . BONUS : WEATHER MANIPULATION .

y’all know how diego can breathe underwater completely separately from his ability to curve thrown objects? or how klaus can levitate, in addition to his ghost stuff? vanya’s got a main course of sound - based telekinesis and a side order of weather manipulation. interestingly, this power is much less suppressed by her medication : whatever emotions are intense enough to get past the threshold of her meds have a direct impact on the world around her, in the form of weather. this isn’t something she can control. picture less storm of the x - men and more when she’s sad it sometimes starts raining a little bit, but not consistently enough for her to even notice that she is causing it. those who are very close to her and spend enough time with her in varying emotional states to notice these patterns might pick up on it happening.

#*　　𝄞 .　　your soul is blowing apart　　⁄　　‟　study .　„#2K WORDS OF POWERS META BABEY #lmk if theres anything i missed here or any questions yall have !!

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game-meak · 6 years ago

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A Proper Postmortem

Maybe?! Heck if I know how to actually format a good post but let’s try. As game development went on for almost four years, this is probably gonna be long... and also give away basically the whole game oops! Read on with caution.

Sometime around July 2014, a month after the initial release of my first game, my room was being remodeled and I was stuck with nothing for free time but a garbage laptop I could do anything on, an old flip phone, my sketchbook, and my 3DS. So beyond playing an obscene amount of Animal Crossing and Tomodachi Life, I at some point went “hey, what if I made a second game starring the kids.” So I started trying to plan it out! And it went

absolutely nowhere that I intended it to go!!!

For instance, this is the very first page of sketches. This squirrel was supposed to be really important. It’s not. I don’t even KNOW what’s up with that duck.

A thing I like to think about before I set off making any of the story, assets, or scripts for my games tend to be themes and motifs. And I kept circling back to a very important, very personal “theme.” Without using the internet at large as my therapy couch, I was emotionally abused and taken advantage of multiple times in my life and it greatly impacts how I interact with people to this very day, as you’d expect events of such a degree would. Particularly, I kept thinking that the RPG Maker fan crowd tends to skew young and be in the teenage range and at ages 14-16, I could’ve used something to help.

Of course, my entire thought process isn’t necessarily one of charity and selflessness. It was also a way of me expressing what I’d dealt with in ways I’ve only ever communicated with my friends who were also victims of the same circumstances, the closest I would let myself come to personal stories and retellings with a cover of plastic children and wild adventures. It was also in some ways a way of me verifying to myself that something ongoing was, in fact, bananas and should not have been happening, but that might be another story for another time.

As you can probably guess, Haze and Seal came into the picture since I needed to make two characters who would have this struggle. A lot of decisions came about because of my personal experience. They’re 15/16 because I was at the time of the incidents that primarily inspired me to make this game. They’re both nonbinary because I am. They love anime because I did (and do...?!) One of their friends is even directly modeled off how one of my friends looked in high school. To that degree, I guess someone, somewhere can call them self inserts. But they’re also not, since I didn’t want to just do a personal retelling with fictional characters. I’d just write a memoir or something at that point.

Haze’s design came first, and then Seal’s was sort of made as a foil to them. Haze’s “colors” are pink, black, grey, and red. Seal’s are teal and light purple... and also black. Haze had a rabbit motif (which got toned down as I went on), Seal had an owl motif (which is now just a single mention in their list of likes...), etc.

Though in the beginning, the story was entirely different. Initially, everything took place in the neon-ish areas with black sky and reflective, celestial water (that I, very eloquently, call “spacewater”). The idea was that Haze and Seal were beings from another dimension and that their “fighting” was causing a rip in the universe that the kids stumbled into and therefore got wrapped up in this mess. I had an entire script written and started making assets and when I went to sum up the game’s plot in a neat paragraph, I realized... I hated it!!!

So I chucked all I had done by that point writing-wise and started again.

In fact, I rewrote a lot. After the first it was mostly small tweaks and adjustments, but the biggest ones (and the ones that still present a challenge to me!) usually involved trying to make Seal feel like a believable character. I had shown an early draft to someone who said that Seal felt too much like trying to get back at someone, so I scrapped a ton of their lines and tried again. I still worry whether or not they come across too Strawman-y, but I’ve done the best I can and whatever criticism people have can apply to my next writing attempts. It’s very hard to separate yourself from subject matter you feel really personally attached to. I don’t want to write them in a way that you immediately hate them, or hate me for writing such a blatant “villain” character, but in a way that you can formulate your own thoughts. That said, though, I am violently allergic to people who call Seal a “tsundere,” even in jest. So I guess I want people to have their own thoughts as long as it’s not that specific one...! (;;;;)

You may be thinking “heck, this is a lot of paragraphs in and you haven’t even brought up gameplay thoughts” and yes... that’s very true. Shamefully, for a game where I thought “I should definitely, absolutely focus more on making it a Fun Game than a walking visual novel” I might’ve actually dropped the ball in that area. I’d like to think I was more adventurous than I had been with my first game. Some parts do kind of fall into the “walk to the next cutscene, find a key to unlock the next cutscene” pit, but I did put effort into figuring out what I could do with RMXP. My obligatory “please don’t use this engine here, people thinking of using RPG Maker” statements here. In the final product, though they’re very simple, I’m most proud of the chalkboard puzzle and the paint sorting puzzle.

Even if, y’know... I somehow neglected to include the letter “k”

Speaking of, I’m not sure if this is a general RPG Maker thing, a “man I hate RMXP” thing, or a “meaka cannot gamemake” thing, but I had several event/puzzles just up and quit on me a few times. Like they would work fine for months and months, but one day I’d go to them and just nope, suddenly they’re not working, sorry. Copy+pasting the event to a new map wouldn’t work, so I’d have to manually redo the event. One of them was the chalkboard puzzle. The other was the sliding puzzle when Tony is by herself. Which I’m also aware slows the game down a ton, but I have legitimately no idea how to fix that... I tried and I could never get to to not lag like crazy.

Like I said, I started in July 2014. I’d shipped the game off to my beta testers in March 2018. A vast majority of that time was spent creating the visual assets since everything you see in the game is custom. All the sprites, all the tilesets, every little pixel of it. All me! Needless to say... it was very exhausting and very time consuming. I grossly underestimated how much time I thought it’d take. I never accounted for the very real possibility of burnout, which is incredibly silly considering I was making something entirely by myself that was also an occasionally difficult subject matter...! There were quite a few weeks where I touched nothing because I couldn’t bring myself to and even a few times where I just considered deleting everything and cancelling the project. I knew I’d be mad at myself if I quit, especially as I got later into production, so I just tried my best to make sure I didn’t turn it into a huge chore. Obviously, there were parts that were more tedious than others, but this game really is a very large labor of love that I put a lot of my heart into.

Part of that time is also a little bit of indecision. Did you know I went through 3 possible title screens? I sure did! I’ve also publicly posted about redoing both Haze and Seal’s bust sprites before. I almost redid all of the kids’, too, but I didn’t wanna get caught in the loop of remaking everything, so I opted to just leave them as they are. Most of them don’t bug me as much. M...most of them!

I’m hopping back on the Story train since obviously that was my main focus, but the decision to have Seal sort of “reveal” their true nature (or at least have a jealousy-related anger burst) to Octavio as an animated cutscene was one I’d decided pretty early. Which is also why, unsurprisingly, I was debating getting voice actors for a hot minute. But I wouldn’t have used it anywhere else in the game, so I opted not to. I also wanted to keep the file size low, but that wound up not happening so much, h-haha... For someone who uses the only engine without native support for videos, I sure do like making animated cutscenes, huh.

Anyway. This scene originally bridged Octavio’s section of the game to Pablo’s, which would’ve been (for some reason) in an abandoned hospital. But that didn’t pan out because it didn’t fit what I wanted the game to be and also by switching the order of the two, it builds up more tension(?) on the kind of character you expect Seal to be. I hope their very first “fuck off, maybe” took someone out there by surprise!

This also was the point when I decided I wanted to commission an original soundtrack, since nothing quite got across what I wanted at the time. Which is when I put out my silly ad post and somehow managed to get the amazing ProjectTrinity to compose for me...! I’m still amazed by the sheer quality of music he made for my little RPGMaker game.

Having the teen characters curse was also something I waffled on for a bit. Clearly, I dwell on the important things as a writer. I wanted it to contrast the cutesy, kidlike way the siblings talk and also the sort of squeaky-clean image the witches (particularly Seal) present to the kids by contrasting how they talk to each other, most importantly how Seal talks to Haze and their other friends. I did have the same issue with the Mother in my first game, but I opted to not have her curse at all either since she’s childish in her own way, too. But that’s not for THIS game’s postmortem, get otta here!!!

I also very much was set on a “battle” with words being the final event of the game. Though I had a hard time imagining what that would be initially, but eventually arrived at a sort of fake battle system that was introduced in the mine. The setting for this battle changed with time (everywhere from the park to the academy and in between) was considered...! The dirty secret is that while I did like the decision to make it take place in the voids between worlds, I also sort of did not want to draw the staircase in the witch academy. Originally, the kids would’ve also helped Haze “reach” Seal (who was putting actual obstacles in the way), but I guess in my own way, I wanted to give Haze the ability to confront Seal on their own, one-on-one. Or something like that...! I also didn’t want to add too much needless backtracking.

I’m... unsure what other point I really want to make, so I guess I’ll end this here unless anyone has anything in particular that interests them they’d want me to answer!

All in all, this game means a lot to me and took a chunk of my life to make and I really hope it’s able to reach at least one person who might need it, even if it’s only a little.

To all of you who gave it a try, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.

A shameless link to the game: [itch.io] & [RMN]

#living playground #the witch's puppets #rpg maker #postmortem

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madelinecoffee · 6 years ago

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Is This Seat Taken? Ch. 3

Summary: Rucas Senior Year AU. Riley’s a loner who doesn’t really have any friends, besides her twin brother Josh but she keeps to herself in school. Something happened the year before where she missed the 2nd half of the year but she’s back for senior year and Lucas’ heart is ready. He’s had a crush on her since he moved to Philly in 3rd grade and he’s convinced this is the year they’ll move up from the class-friends label and into something more. This is not a completely fluffy fic, I’m going to be diving into some deep shit so if that’s not your cup of tea please leave *this does include some serious depression if it goes beyond that I will trigger warn it*

A/N: Hi friends! New chapter! Let me know your thoughts on it all! Things are moving fast, because as I told Feli I cannot write slow-burn. This is leading into something big going down so prepare yourselves. Tagging: @iwantyoutochooseme @celluloiddreams @imaginarybird Words: 1879 Previous: Ch. 1 Ch. 2

Lucas stares at her shocked for a moment before he can do anything other than breathe but once it settles in that Riley is asking him on a date all he can do is frantically nod as he figures out how to use his voice. She’s smiling softly at him as he nods and when he does get his voice to work it cracks as he manages a “Yes”, before he clears his throat and tries again

“I would love to go on a date with you Riley.” Riley beams up at him they decide on 11 am at Blue Max’s they’re walking out of school before it dawns on Lucas that they never decided on transportation or if they were going to meet there. This entire time Riley’s been back he’s never seen her drive, Josh always does. But he thinks he remembers her having a white Toyota, but all he’s seen was Josh driving and it wasn’t the Toyota.

“Do you want me to pick you up for our date?” Lucas can’t help but smile as he says date but his nervousness shows through as he rubs his neck

Riley looks at him for a moment and he sees panic flash through her before she shoves it down.

“I would love it if you would pick me up” Josh is giving her a look from the car and Maya is giving Lucas his own look as well, so before Lucas has time to fully react she hugs him tight and jogs away to Josh

When Lucas gets over to the car Maya’s giving him a weird look, “What’s wrong with your face?”

“What?”

“Your face, you look like someone injected you with happy serum or something I don’t know. But you’re smiling way to much”

“Oh well Riley just asked me out” He states with glee as he starts up the car

“WHAT!” Maya shrieks as he pulls out of the parking lot

It’s the next day and Topanga is helping Riley get ready for her date by offering her support

“You’ve liked Lucas forever, and he was always such a nice boy, I’m sure it will go well” Topanga smiles warmly at her daughter while he daughter gives her a look

“Mom I’m sure it will, Lucas has always been the nicest and from what Josh, Maya and Zay say he likes me a lot. I’m not worried about it being a nice time. I just, it’s our first date. And I want it to be perfect.”

Topanga nods, “You know what Joanne says about building things up to be perfect in your head sweetie.”

Riley nods, “And that’s the other thing! I have told him about any of that! Or The Thing. And I don’t think I’m ready to fully but I want him to know some and god Mom now I’m stressed out! Maybe I should just cancel!” Riley makes a move to grab her phone, but Topanga grabs her instead

With a fierce look in her eye Topanga talks to her daughter, “Riley this could really be the start of something beautiful but that means you have to give it a chance. You don’t have to tell him about The Thing, but you could tell him about some things that are a result of The Thing or some things that caused it. But whatever you decide is up to.” Before Riley can respond the doorbell rings, Riley jumps up smooths out her dress and runs down the stairs, but when she opens her door it’s only her Uncles.

“Uncle Eric! Uncle Jack! What are you doing here?” Riley deflates

Both of her Uncles smile, “We’re here to meet Lover-Boy” Eric states proudly

“We’re also here to offer our favorite niece support as she goes on her first date.” Jack stated as he nudged his husband while Eric nodded,

“Yeah that too”

Before Riley could say anymore the doorbell rang again, “That had better not be Aunt Morgan and Aunt Morgan.” She stated as he gave them a look. But standing on the other side of the door was Lucas holding a bouquet of flowers wearing blue jeans, his boots, and the flannel she had complimented him on before. He completely lost his breath as she opened the door. She had a bun on top of her head but most of her hair was down, and she was wearing a purple dress that flared above her knees out with a pair of converse.

He handed her the flowers while he tried to close his jaw, “You look wow”

Riley giggled prettily at him, “Thank you, and come in for a second so I can put these in water”

Lucas nodded as he stepped in not expecting the three Matthews men to be staring him down.

Jack started, “If you hurt that little bean so help us god-“

“We will end you and hide your body so no one can find it-“ Eric continued

“And make your disappearance look like an accident, but that won’t be a problem will it Lucas.” Cory finished

“No sirs” Lucas answered confidently

Riley shot daggers at her family as she walked back in, “You guys stop.”

Lucas chuckled as he grabbed her hand, “Don’t worry they’re only looking out for you. You ready to go?”

Riley nodded, ”Yeah all my stuffs in my pockets! Look this dress has pockets!” As if to prove her point she put her hand that wasn’t holding his in her pocket and smiled at him as he beamed down at her.

Riley was having a wonderful time, he had opened the door to his car for her and helped her in, he bought her coffee even though she argued, and he was holding her hand occasionally running his thumb over her knuckles. They had been talking about everything and nothing for the past couple of hours and Riley couldn’t stop smiling. The coffee shop was small but cozy, there weren’t too many people around and the noise wasn’t overwhelming.

They had talked about some important topics, like how Pluto was still a planet and how they both loved animals but Riley wanted to fill Lucas in on some things. She drew at the same courage she used when she asked him out,

“Lucas there’s something I want to tell you, it’s kind of serious” Lucas gestured for her to continue, “So I really like you and I really want whatever this is to continue-“

“Me too” Lucas butted in for reassurance

“But there’s a few things you should know about me before that. Um for one I hate large crowds and loud noises.” Lucas nodded he knew things just from watching her,

“And um. I’m really really really insecure, I don’t mean to be and my family tells me there’s no reason to be but I often feel out of place and inadequate.”

“Oh Riley” Lucas comforted squeezing her hand but letting her continue

“That’s why I don’t always eat with you guys, it’s overwhelming. And why I’m so glad you’re my automatic partner because the idea of choosing someone freaks me out. Though I’d choose you anytime, over anyone.”

“Me too, thanks for telling me Riley. But I had already kinda figured out the first two.”

Riley gave him a curious look, “How?”

Lucas turned bashful, “Well you’ve been like that since we were kids, and uh I watched you a lot. Not in like a creepy way but in like a---I liked you way. And as for you being insecure, it’s okay. If I have to remind you everyday how perfect you are, I will”

The two smiled at each other with their hands on the table as Lucas spoke again,

“Since we’re sharing secrets, um I kind of have a temper. When I was younger pre-moving here I had some serious anger stuff and um at the start of high school it came back and I went to therapy for it. Which has helped a lot, and I box on the sides now to work off some of the anger. But I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks for telling me that Lucas, and if you ever need to talk about it. You know I’m your girl right?”

Lucas nodded, “I do” There was a pause where Lucas debated with himself if he was really going to do it but before he could fully process it, it was out of his mouth. “I know it’s our first date and everything, but would you be my girl all the time?”

Riley cocked her head to the side, “Like your-your?”

“Girlfriend” Lucas finished smiling

“YES!” Riley shouted as she launched herself across the table to hug him

On Monday none of their friends were surprised that the two were officially dating after only one date. They’d been pinning a lot. But the girls of their high school did not seem to like the idea, and Riley noticed. All sorts of girls had been trying to date Lucas since middle school and nothing, Riley Matthews goes on one date with him and they end up dating?

Riley brought it up with the group as they ate lunch that Monday, “All these girls won’t stop giving me the death glare and it’s giving me the heebie jeebies.”

Maya nodded, “Yeah I heard a bunch of them talking in the bathroom about it, I told them to mind their own damn business. You two make each other happy, it’s that simple.” Riley gave her a grateful smile

Lucas piped in before Riley could respond, “No one’s said anything, mostly because I doubt they would say anything to you and we’re always together. But I can feel their daggers” Lunch continued on as normal and as did their school days.

Riley and Lucas would go on dates and outings on Saturdays; sometimes they’d go with the group sometimes Riley would ditch Lucas just to hang out with Maya. But after a few weeks things settled down in their personal lives and things seemed good.

It was early October now and school had really picked up, it seemed to the gang that their teachers had all gotten together and assigned projects and papers. Lucas knew it was stressing Riley out because she had made a few comments on it, and he could tell she was drawing into herself. But mostly she seemed fine, she came to school went to class they held hands and sometimes they kissed at her locker. She seemed mostly fine if not a little more tense than usual that are why it surprised Lucas when she wasn’t at school on Friday.

She had texted him, “Hey Blue” which was her pet-name for him considering how much blue he wore, “I won’t be at school today, I’m not feeling right. Could you take good notes for me and get my work?” Complete with three purple hearts

Lucas went over on Friday after school with Josh to drop it off. Her door sign said she was taking a nap so he and Josh went to play video games downstairs as he waited for his girlfriend to wake up. They were having a good time until they heard a crash from upstairs.

#is this seat taken #rucas fic #girl meets world fic #rucas fanfiction #my writing #let me know what you think please!

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livingwithlosingyou · 2 years ago

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Living with Losing You - 9/27/2022

What an insane day.

I woke up to my alarm blaring before 6am because I had to go onsite to address a situation. I also has to take Sadie to camp because I was going to eb gone ALL day with appointments, meetings, practice, etc.

My work morning meetings were very effective and went very well. I was glad that the team was able to work together to make that happen #teamworkmakesthedreamwork. I was there for a few hours, but had decided to leave at around 11:30am to try and meet my dad for lunch. In that thought process I realized that I actually had a therapy meeting at noon. So, I had to cancel on the pops (it was fine, he had lunch packed already) and then I started to drive towards Scripps Ranch to take my therapy call, eat lunch, and then go to my rescheduled OBGYN at 2:10pm. Like I said, very busy day.

I got the the parking lot and parked as my therapist joined the call. It was honestly perfect timing. I had a good session today. I think I was more blunt and honest in a respectful way about how i was feeling. Since my therapist was also an addict herself, she really understands some of the feelings you were having James. I have definitely had my ups and downs, and she constantly reminds me that it’s normal. I just really have been messed up since the storage unit. I have noticed that I really go back and forth primarily between gratitude, anguish/devastation, and anger. I feel so lucky to have loved you and been loved by you, but I am also so sad that you’re not physically here. On top of that, I am mad that you abandoned me when you promised that you’d never leave me. Balancing all of those very different emotions has been the hardest things, but I am starting to learn that “opposite” emotions can coexist. It’s a learned skill that I am still very much learning.

After I hopped off the call I went to go and pick up my lunch. I got a sandwich from Jimbos custom made and some snacks. I ate my lunch at their patio outside and started working on my computer. I love working outside like that, it’s nice to have a change of scenery every now and then. Perks of having a job like I have.

I realized that it was coming up on my appointment soon, so I quickly packed up my things and worked my way south a few exits for that OBGYN appointment. I will not get into details, but it was a very refreshing first step in the right direction. This doctor had an action plan, and took the time to review the birth control options that were already on my chart. I will say she did not review my whole chart, because she started asking me a much of questions about current partner(s), etc. She asked if I was irregular and I said yes because of my recent stress and she gave me the “look” of like “we are all stressed you need manage it better”, but also basically said that. Just more eloquently than I just typed it. Once i told her what was going on she was very apologetic, and it all made more sense to her. Anyway, all in all it was productive. Hoping she can help me!

By the time the appointment ended it was already almost 3pm. I was supposed to be a practice by 4pm. Keep in mind the HS that I coach at is likely around 45 mins or more from Scripps Ranch. I ended up booking it home (allegedly) and changing into running clothes really fast so I didn’t overheat at practice. Plus, i wanted to run again today. My goal is to get 150 miles by EOD of your birthday. I still have a ways to go!

I was able to get home at around 3:30pm, so i quickly got changed and grabbed my stuff then was back out the door. Practice went well today, the boys had a recovery form yesterday. We did some kettlebells which was fun to lead as well. As long as they are listening.

I was supposed to go to GriefShare tonight, but honestly practice didn’t end until closer to 6:30pm, and that group starts at 6:45pm. Even with how busy my day was in general, I decided to skip this week. I also still had to pick up Sadie from camp and grab myself dinner. I ended up stopping at nothing Bundt Cakes to pick some up for out GNI (girl’s night IN) and then grabbed In N Out for myself. I figured I would get it since it’s not in KY and I won’t have access to it for weeks. Once I got home, we had a BIP (IYLKYK) watch party. Marissa and Bri came over for it. while we watched it I started packing. I still have SO much to do, it’s insane. I wrote a list on my notepad on the counter. Tomorrow is going to fly by, then I’ll be in KY! Crazy!

I ended up finishing all of my coaching training as well, so I am officially a cleared coach, yay! Now I will get my badge! I also talked to the producer today. I am VERY excited about the music part of this KY trip. I hope that it will continue to help me heal, and also eventually spread awareness. You’d be so proud of me, I know you would have been. You probably currently are.

It’s past midnight at this point, and I still have not showered. I need to get ready for bed. Today was just SO busy, and tomorrow is the same.

I hope that I feel you more in KY. I miss you.

Love you, always! Can’t wait to see if that note is still up in the science center. )(quick story, I called the LY science center that we visited in May because they had an exhibit where you could write a note and pin it onto the wall. i do not remember exactly what it said, but it was something very cheesy and cute. Well, when I called they said it was still up, and that they’re taking it down this weekend. I am going to take you mom’s car on Friday to Louisville to check and see if it is still there. Fingers crossed you will lead me right to it <3.

I love you, James. Always will.

Oh, also your mom sent me a cute picture of Biggie today, and said he is excited to see me (we both know this is true).

Rest in Peace, James Burton Nichols

10/1/1993 - 7/16/2022

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rescueonefinancialnet · 4 years ago

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I'm on a ledge and I don't know what to do.

Strap in, it's a long one.

tl;dr my husband and I are currently separating stemming from an argument we had and I'm trying to give space the best I can, but being outright ignored is killing me because I don't understand. I don't know if I stick it out and wait or I just call it because it's hard. I've never worked harder at something before. (I condensed as much as I could, but not to save face. I will offer clarity if I can.)

So my husband and I have been married 2 years, together 8 (almost) and we share a 5 year old daughter. We had our daughter pretty young and as we were still figuring out what we wanted in life and how to get there. DH always had a timeline planned for things, but like most things, those plans changed.

Our fights are almost always the same: me feeling tiny and yelling to feel big so my feelings are heard and acknowledged and DH shutting down because he can't process it all at once and just wants it to be over. This has gotten better in the past year with more resolving, but still isn't 100%.

The first few years with our daughter were hard because we moved back in with my mom and stepdad so we could put money back and I'd have help with our daughter if I needed it. I felt like I was maturing and worrying about so much all at once while DH could just suck and weave so easily through things. Eventually we got our own house and there were still arguments, but definitely cruised on a high note for a while.

I found out about him lying about credit card debt his parents had accrued in his name. Then I found out about a laptop purchase he had hidden from me. Then I found out about multiple other things. And those were arguments. Not because he had gotten items, but because of the lying and hiding snd I felt betrayed. One by one I worked through them and the trust was still hard for me. I nagged a lot. I asked a lot for clarity and to make sure things were on time. It probably wasn't helpful because I didn't realize at that point that it's deeper than him wanting to, it's learned. And then by me being upset, it makes that need to hide things he wants even stronger. I don't want him to go without, but my mentality is we need to save OR it could've been used a different way.

Last year, I chose to separate. Not because I was out of love and didn't want him, but because I was tired of being put second to everything and everyone else. During this time, I slept with my best friend. I spoke to my husband prior to it happening because I knew it MIGHT happen. We had also spoken of this prior to separation and I was offered a "pass". It wasn't what I wanted like I thought. DH realized he didn't want us to be over and wanted to try again. We tried the whole Tinder thing for him so the tables were even because I didn't want resentment. He was opening up more with strangers than with me and that was a big conversation. He apologized profusely and I truly believe he didn't realize how big that was when all I want is to feel connected again. I ended up on tinder eventually too and we were "Open". He never had any luck with Tinder and I sort of did. We had lots of discussions about it and I finally told him I didn't WANT or NEED any of that. I wanted it with him but I felt left behind so I did it too. As far as I knew, we worked through all of those feelings, talked it out, etc. Everything had shifted and we were GOLDEN.

Over the years I've had many jobs here and there. Never been fired. I have a lot of health issues and get to points where I can barely function because I'm so exhausted. He's always been understanding of it but this past year, with Covid and everything else going on, it was difficult. He took a welding job before the shut down and it was rough. Mentally, physically and spiritually, it was so hard on him. And we'd talk about it sometimes but I never knew how to help.

DH and our daughter got Covid in November. At the end of their quarantine, we took a joyride after going to Sonic and ended up in a 3 car accident and we rolled our truck. It was totaled and lucky DH and my daughter were fine, I was okay too but pretty beat up for a bit. Then we found out MIL had cancelled our insurance due to a fight she and DH had. We owed $26k on the truck still and (at fault party's) insurance still hasn't fully reimbursed us.

In March, DH started having panic attacks about work. Mandatory OT was supposed to end months ago and never did. So 54+ hour work weeks doing physical labor, having no time to yourself, etc wears you down. I got a text saying he didn't want to be married anymore, didn't want to fight about it, but he hadn't made the car payment or went to work. We had no money. Rent was due. It came crashing down. And my mind went to worry, not anger. I was confused. We sat and talked and agreed therapy needed to be started as a couple and solo. We'd keep working on our own until then.

We lost our rent house. DH messaged our landlord when we got the last stimulus and never returned her texts so she gave us an eviction notice. 3 years to the day of us moving in. We had 11 days to move out which was ass. We moved back to my moms which neither of us wanted to do. (DH and my stepfather have a rocky relationship) DH went back to the welding job because he ended up not quitting but taking LOA.

So here we are, 2 dogs, 2 cats, a 5 year old, and us in a loft size room in my moms house. Daughter is scheduled for a tonsillectomy, comes and goes without issue luckily. He's moved around on anxiety meds then starts Celexa and changes. Subtle at first but then our friends notice too. DH starts having panic attacks again and is waking me up before work to tell me. I try to console him the best I can, we go back to sleep. He quit the job the day after our daughters surgery.

He's then stressed with being home around my stepdad without a job. Had a prospect but never heard back. The box is getting smaller and the problems are getting larger.

Our 2 year wedding anniversary rolls around and I'm sick the entire day. Like slept til 9 pm sick. He's trying to offer me solutions and I snapped. I was overwhelmed. But it doesn't make it okay. I react too big and I always have. So I apologized and explain why I reacted that way and it's just silent. All I need is a response to know I'm heard, if we're okay, if we need to touch back later. Nothing. So I say "if you can't give me a simple answer, I need you to leave" but I didn't mean forever.

He comes to his cousins apartment. Tells me the next day that he's out. He can't do the fights anymore. It's a cycle. But my question was "what have you done to break the cycle?" And I couldn't get an answer from him. I've been on meds, talked to a therapist. I've put in as much as I can alone. There's a communication barrier and it has to be broken.

He needs space. He lost himself and needs to figure out what he wants. He applied for an apartment 2 days later. Says we can still be friends and talk but right now the relationship is on hold until he's 100%. We need to be coparents. Ok. Heard. But I don't get clear answers on how I can correctly give him space. Everything is silence or "I don't know".

Right now I'm at his cousins with him and our daughter because my mom lost her mind last night then I found out today my stepdad has covid. They're both vaccinated and so am I, but our daughter isn't. I have auto immune diseases. I'm panicking because I don't know what the best course of action is. He was receptive to me coming, but since I've been here, he's barely acknowledged me. I brought it up tonight and told him if I need to go, to tell me. Told him I was confused because he mentioned playing games and then he set the Xbox up and went back to the other room. But he took that as guilting. His cousin has talked to me more today than he has. I picked him up from work and we barely spoke, but he comes in and starts having a conversation with his cousin about work stuff.

Am I wrong to feel confused? He's saying one thing but then actions don't match. I don't want to walk away when I believe these are things we can repair and build stronger with the correct tools (counseling) to communicate effectively but I feel abandoned right now and I don't feel like a person anymore. I'm trying to respect his need for space. I don't want to be here at his cousins but it's the only place we COULD go. And I know he knows that. But I can't keep riding a see saw when I just want to understand but I'm not supposed to ask.

And in no way am I trying to downplay my part. Time apart has made me realize a lot of what I need to work on and I am. But i can't take the full brunt when it's not all me.

More debt relief tips at ROF review

#debt reliew

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kaykayeindbq · 3 years ago

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Toxic Parents

LATimes: Search “toxic parents” on Instagram, and you’ll find more than 38,000 posts, largely urging young adults to cut ties with their families. The idea is to protect one’s mental health from abusive parents. However, as a psychoanalyst, I’ve seen that trend in recent years become a way to manage conflicts in the family, and I have seen the steep toll estrangement takes on both sides of the divide. This is a self-help trend that creates much harm. Research by Karl Pillemer, a family sociologist and professor of human development at Cornell University, indicates that 1 in 4 American adults have become estranged from their families. I believe that’s an undercount, because others have stopped short of completely cutting off contact but have effectively severed the ties. “Canceling” your parent can be seen as an extension of a larger cultural trend aimed at correcting imbalances in power and systemic inequality. Certainly the family is one system in which power has never been balanced. In 1933, the Hungarian psychoanalyst Sándor Ferenczi described this dynamic, warning that any asymmetry, even the simple indication that someone has more power than we do, can potentially be traumatic. Today’s social justice values respond to this reality, calling on us to censure oppressive and harmful figures and to gain power for those who have been powerless. But when adult children use the most effective tool they have — themselves — to gain a sense of security and ban their parents from their lives, the roles are simply flipped, and the trauma only deepens. Certainly some extreme cases call for cutting parents out of one’s life, even if doing so comes at a psychological cost. Far more often, what I see in my practice are cases of family conflict mismanaged, power dynamics inverted rather than negotiated. I see the shattering effect of that trend: scenarios with no winners, only isolated humans who long to be known and feel safe in the presence of the other. Some of my patients are young adults who decided to end, or are considering ending, their relationships with their parents. They try to process their parents’ harmful actions in their childhood, their lack of boundaries, and their narcissistic or intrusive behaviors. Those children struggle with anger, pain and guilt and are often feeling confused and lonely. Other patients are parents on the other side of that dynamic, who feel betrayed and heartbroken. It’s hard for them to acknowledge or even recognize their aggression. In my experience, baby boomer parents are especially troubled. They perceive themselves as products of the 1960s social revolution; many of them rejected their own parents’ authoritarian style and followed a parenting approach that at least appeared to prioritize the children’s needs. Those patients feel trapped in generational limbo, neglected by their own parents who didn’t fully know them and abandoned by their children who don’t want to know them. The vein of online advice about “toxic parents” is a self-help therapy approach that aims to empower younger people to give up on their parents and “re-parent” themselves. It encourages them to do the needed emotional work on their own and urges them to reject parental figures altogether, avoiding any kind of dependency on another person. In this cultural moment, and especially because of COVID disruptions to young careers, adult kids are either becoming more dependent on their parents or are rejecting their dependency altogether. We’re in the era of millennials living in their parents’ basements, and also in the era of millennials cutting their parents out of their lives. The catch is that after estrangement, adult children are not suddenly less dependent. In fact, they feel abandoned and betrayed, because in the unconscious, it doesn’t matter who is doing the leaving; the feeling that lingers is one of “being left.” They carry the ghosts of their childhood, confronting the emotional reality that those who raised us can never truly be left behind, no matter how hard we try. They live inside us, even

without our permission. This is something that can never be canceled. What I have found is that most of these families need repair, not permanent rupture. How else can one learn how to negotiate needs, to create boundaries and to trust? How else can we love others, and ourselves, if not through accepting the limitations that come with being human? Good relationships are the result not of a perfect level of attunement but rather of successful adjustments. To pursue dialogue instead of estrangement will be hard and painful work. It can’t be a solitary project of “self-help,” because at the end of the day, real intimacy is achieved through mutual vulnerability and by working through the injuries of the past together. In most cases of family conflict, repair is possible and preferable to estrangement — and it’s worth the work. Galit Atlas is a psychoanalyst in private practice in Manhattan. She is the author of the forthcoming “Emotional Inheritance: A Therapist, Her Patients and the Legacy of Trauma.”

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