#can you tell this episode rewired my brain completely

[beanghostprincess]

They're choosing their numbers for their polycule

[gravytrainnaturebornn]

the power of self-talk in the fight against self-sabotage (for binge-eaters and ppl who have never been skinny🫶)

disclaimer: this is not proana. this is for people who struggle with binge eating as a form of self-sabotage, emotional comfort, self harm, etc. overeating can cause just as much harm physically and mentally as undereating. please be safe. now, on with the show!

weight loss, but specifically extreme weight loss, equals change. change equals discomfort, so people tend to subconsciously avoid change. this is why starting to see progress on the scale or your body can trigger the urge to self-sabotage that progress and binge eat.

for people who have been big their whole lives, that fear is heightened by the fact that being thin is completely uncharted territory. by following through, youre entering a new world that youve never navigated before. your brain might get scared, say its much too big a mountain to climb, and tell you to give up. its easier to say fuck it because for most people, unhappiness is a comfort zone. if youre used to hating your body and wanting it to change, then actually *changing* it poses a very serious threat to your comfort and the lifestyle youre used to.

questions like: "what if i reach my goal and im still unhappy/unattractive?" "what if i dont look like myself?" "what if i reach my goal, cant sustain it, and then i gain it all back and humiliate myself?" can all make someone feel anxious about succeeding in their weight loss journey. and for people with overeating issues, this is a big trigger for binge episodes.

so how do you combat this instinct to self sabotage? well, im not a psychologist so take this with a grain of salt, but for me it helps to soothe these subconscious fears and train the brain to fight these urges. self-talk and thought-correction play a HUGE role in rewiring the pathways in your brain that lead you to bingeing. truly, practice and consistency are the only things that are going to cause a big change, so stick with it !

correcting problematic thoughts *immediately* when they form is key to preventing problematic behavior in the future, and that starts with being able to identify those thoughts. the moment you catch yourself thinking about food, cut yourself off with a correction. maybe even think about food on purpose a few times to practice recognizing and correcting it.

for example, if you just ate an hour ago, chances are youre not actually hungry yet. tell yourself that as soon as you realize youre thinking about food. i like to tell myself "i dont need to eat, and im not gonna sabotage myself by eating that." by acknowledging it and calling it what it is--literally an attack, by my brain, on my own progress--i immediately attach a sense of accountability to the actions that follow. there's no deniability. its no longer a passive choice. theres no mindless eating or "i wasnt thinking about it." if i eat after acknowledging the act of eating as self-sabotage, then that is me *actively* choosing self-sabotage over self-control. accountability alone can change a lot if you let it.

what i tell myself changes depending on the situation, but i find that repeating some of these phrases throughout the day helps to fight urges in general, and certain ones help for specific cravings and situations.

below are some examples of things i tell myself that have helped me fight the urge to self sabotage. they dont all have to be true when you first say them, the point is training your brain to think a certain way. it may feel unnatural at first, but the more you say them the more natural it becomes, until eventually it becomes apart of the way you actually think and you dont have to work so hard at it. remember: consistency. is. key.

okay ill stop blabbing! here:

•i allow myself to be thin.

•i accept the change that comes with losing weight.

•i am ready to see myself differently and cope with any complicated feelings that may come with it.

•i am prepared for my body to change.

•i will deal with my wardrobe when the time comes, and im not afraid of dressing differently for my new body.

•i will adjust to my new dietary needs and appetite when i reach my goal weight. i will not always be hungry; eating less will be my new normal, and i will be okay.

•i am not afraid of being hungry.

•food does not comfort me, nor does it solve my problems or make me feel better.

•i am ready to navigate a life that looks different to the one im living now.

•i am not afraid of reaching my goal. if i do feel afraid, i am confident in my ability to work through difficult feelings and continue towards my goal.

•im not going to sabotage myself by eating that.

•i accept that people will perceive me differently, and i am ready to navigate that change.

•i am prepared to receive comments about my weight loss.

•i am not afraid of getting what i want.

•i believe i deserve what i want, and im dedicated to working towards getting it.

•i am capable of adapting to new routines and habits.

•fear is not a reason to give up, and i will continue to work even if the possibility of change makes me uneasy.

•i am prepared to face the future, even though i do not know what it looks like.

•i allow myself to make mistakes, and i will not use them as an excuse to quit.

•my long-term satisfaction is more important than what i want in this moment.

•i am in control of my actions and i am capable of resisting the urge to binge.

•i allow myself to have the body i desire.

•i allow myself to change.

•i allow my life to look different and i am not afraid to see a new person in the mirror.

•i am excited to reach my goal, and prepared to navigate any changes that come with it.

•i am ready to meet and introduce others to the new me.

[elderflowergin]

Hey hey! I don't know if can articulate it as well as you. But, My Dearest has endeared me to him quite a bit(a lot). I am in the rabbit hole at this point, currently on episode 12 of Hot Stove League, and it is so weird to see him so demure(?) compared to his other roles where he does use his full body quite a lot to express himself. Here, he gets shoved around and startled, and it's a far cry from the sword wielding warrior he is in My Dearest. But he does it so well, I kinda want to cradle his face in my hands and until he sees himself the way I see him, which is 😍😍( when he held a baby for the first time). I also stopped One Dollar Lawyer for similar reasons and The Veil. However, I did spend some time on Falsify(a hidden gem, truly). Him and Oh Junge Se are brothers, journalists, and it delves into the world of journalism and the responsibility of media in shaping public opinion etc, I haven't finished but he's so good at, I don't what to call him, to put it simply, a man who is angry at what has been 'done' to his brother and by extension him. By the way, any hopes or expectations for the 2nd part of My Dearest, for the characters and the story? I kinda don't want to create any illusions of what is to come, and just enjoy the story for it is but ahh, the situation looks so dire. Thanks for welcoming me into your inbox.

Hi again Anon! I completely get you. I loved how different he was in Hot Stove League - it’s such a restrained performance. The character of Baek Seung-soo is interesting to me because he feels like a cold and distant person when you see him, and you realise how principled and generous he is only through his actions. It’s a challenge for any actor, and I love that he did it well and was such a good foil for both Park Eun-bin and Oh Jung-se. I don’t wish to cradle his face (I’m afraid I’d break it) but I did want to put him in my pocket and carry him everywhere.

Sadly Falsify doesn’t seem to be on any of my services, so I will have to wait until the coming Namgoong Minaissance encourages someone to carry it. I didn’t check it out so I didn’t know he plays Oh Jung-se’s brother, which is fascinating to me since I loved their arc in Hot Stove League. Thank you for telling me more about this show!

As for Namgoong Min in My Dearest: he is so expressive and I absolutely love that about watching him.

I could go on and on (and I will!) but I’ll talk about one scene in particular: the one where he carries Ahn Eun-jin across the riverbed which rewired my brain. She’s being carried by him, which must be a novel sensation, since she’s alive to his body in a way the other girls were not. She sees the perspiration on his face, and you can see how it makes her feel, how she’s overwhelmed by — not handsomeness, really, but pure attraction and want. She’s almost entranced, and she touches his face, his sweat, which is, yes, gross, but deeply intimate, like blood. And he notices; how can he not when she touches his temple? He could probably feel her gaze from a mile away, let alone a physical touch. And so he turns and looks at her, and that face says so much, reflecting so much possession, want and banked desire.

Both actors are so subtle and wonderful, and yet convey the undeniable attraction between the characters. For two people who talk nonstop at each other and deny their feelings throughout it all, their true feelings reveal themselves with surprising ease in other ways. I love that so much.)

As for season 2: I didn’t like how their arc ended at the last episode of part 1, but I don’t think it was inconsistent with Jang Hyeon’s character or bad writing necessarily. I’m ultimately glad Gil-Chae stayed with her family. I hope Gil-chae and Ryang Eum become besties. I hope Gil-chae continues to be the successful businesswoman that she is. I hope her friends remain by her side. I think Jang Hyeon has a lot of work and growing up to do. I get that the storyline needs them back together, so for what it’s worth I hope he grovels and begs and is a repentant, changed man when he returns to her.

(I understand that this isn’t a prevalent opinion about them as a couple, and I’m fine with that! I also get that all of this is unlikely to happen, so I’m not resting my hopes on it :’().

Thank you Anon for letting me go on and on about this. Happy watching Namgoong Min and I hope Oct 13th gets here soon! ❤️

[theajaheira]

I love your blog! You have so many excellent insights and I’d never really thought about how all of Buffy is influenced by Jenny. I hope get to read your thesis one day!

Something has always bugged me about s4 and I’m wondering if it’s just inconsistent writing or if there’s more to it. When Giles asks out Jenny he’s so nervous and they sort of imply that he’s never asked out a girl before so he literally needs Buffy’s help. Later we see Bad Boy Giles’s DarkPast™️ and in s4 he has an old girlfriend come to town. It’s implied that they dated when he was younger. I don’t know how to reconcile s1 Giles with s4 Giles. It feels like they forgot the original backstory they gave him once they got excited about his dark past and they just went with that.

Doesn’t Giles even say he’s never dated before Jenny? (Sorry if I’m getting details all wrong, it’s been a moment since I saw these episodes.)

Anyway curious about your thoughts!

oh my gosh, this ask made me LIGHT UP, because you have hit on the one little retcon-weirdness moment that is every calendiles fan's favorite thing ever, and now i get to talk about it! thank you so much for this! i love this so much! i literally saved it for days JUST SO i would get to write this up in response!

ANYWAY. just about everything you say is completely correct! i think the only part that isn't accurate is the fact that giles never explicitly states he hasn't dated before jenny -- what you might be thinking of is the line where buffy describes jenny as "the only woman we've ever seen speak to [giles]," which definitely implies something similar. BUT the key point there is PERCEPTION -- the kids PERCEIVE giles as someone who hasn't dated before, and the kids are not reliable narrators when it comes to giles, especially since this is set before the dark age. at this point in time, buffy's perception of giles is canonically and intentionally one-note, as is ours as viewers.

i definitely agree that there is dissonance between what we see of giles/olivia, what's suggested of giles's past, and the way he interacts with jenny. because we're given two pieces of information:

giles is a reformed rebel who can absolutely Get It if he wants

giles is a mess around jenny specifically

so definitely if you're looking at that second piece of information and expecting it to be a reflection of how giles is around all women, this can be perceived as inconsistent writing. HOWEVER, there is a THIRD piece of information that is INCREDIBLY important to piecing this little puzzle together:

3. GILES NEVER RECOVERS FROM JENNY'S DEATH.

this man spends jenny's entire time in canon whipping around when she enters the room, staring at her obsessively when she IS in the room, hanging around her computer lab when they're broken up to the point that she has to tell him to stop, and then when she dies he goes into this protective little watcher shell and is never even half as fluttery and silly and soft as he is in the early seasons. her death is so profoundly heartbreaking for him that it literally rewires him into someone else, because he just Cannot Exist as the man that he is. he Cannot Survive. he quite literally tries to kill himself because existence seems impossible!

so let's come back to this notion of giles being the kinda guy who can absolutely talk to women, and giles being the polar opposite of a smooth operator w jenny. though the show does initially frame this as a by-product of giles's general early seasons dorky vibe, his backstory creates this new and excellent implication that canon does nothing to dispute, and in fact ENCOURAGES: jenny calendar is so fucking special to giles that she kills all of his brain cells and he just genuinely cannot be normal around her.

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: Pollo Loco

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

The pre-episode conversation:

Wench: Here it is.  You ready?  ARE YOU READY??? 

Jezebel: YUSSSSS

Wench: I CAN'T HEAR YOU: ARE YOU READY??!?!?!

Jezebel: YUSSSSSSSSSSS

Wench: Okay.  OKAY.  Here.  We.  Go.

Jezebel: AHHHHHHHHHH! READYYYY????

Wench: YESSS

Jezebel: 3!  2!  3!  4!  5!

Wench: alsdkfjladskjf Gooooo

Jezebel: 4!  3!  2!  1!  GOOOOO

– – – 

GOD DAMN NOW A LIVE CHICKEN…  Ma’am!

Foreshadowing

I FEEL YA OC

I FEEEL YAAAA OC! ☠️☠️

It’s Ben  [Ben ded]  Oh?  [That's what they just said; they found a dead body with a barcode, and it's Ben]  Well now I’m confused

Bby Ben  [He was a storyteller :(]  😭😭😭

Wot?  [Was this about the Nomlies?]  I think yeah lol  [Nomlies are, essentially, Manticore rejects.  Flawed genetics, personalities, etc, to the point that they've been moved to the basement for reprogramming or permanent retirement]

…. Wait.  Wait.  🤔🤔🤔🤔  WAIT.  Isn’t that how she… Is this 🤔🤔🤔  [SPEAK]  Is this the future and the episode is leading up to the death?  [*whistles*]

[Nope.  I just lied to you]  You.  My friend.  Are a *redacted OFMD!Izzy cursing*

[Ma'am didn't say the nickname :(]  LINTLICKERRR  [There we go]  🙂

OOOOHHHH AHHHHH  [This is a thing now :)]  LIKE FUCKING NAILLSSSSS ON A CHALKBOARD

Bruh  [Ma'am didn't even wait for a response]  WHY NOT TELL HIM  [Max is being Max again, what can I say]  *sigh*

[I'm actually starting to recognize the kids this go-round]  

Holy hell deep voice

[I don't know if that kid's dealing with the tryptophan thing btw]

When he said the blue lady was he referring to the Virgin Mary?  [Yup.  Ben storytelling again]

ACKLESSSSS HAS ARRIVEDDDD  [He has indeed]

BUDDY WHATCHA DOING 👀👀👀  [Being homicidal.  As one does.]  

👀👀👀

Well damn

[Okay, look.  I know we know that she was lying.  But to be fair.  It's kinda ridiculous that they act like the kids would all be recognizable.  It's been.  11.  Years.]  Yeah that’s fair… But I mean I think I look like me from 11 years ago ☠️  [You didn't go through puberty in that time tho.  I think they were like.  9]

["Closest thing to a brother"  Bitch, ZACH IS SUPPOSED TO FILL THAT SPOT]  Excuse you Zach doesn’t need to be filling no spots 👀😮‍💨🤢  [MA'AM WATCH THE SHOW]

‘Cause I’m an angsty bitchhhhhhh  *sigh*

[Church]  Time to repent.  Then kill the priest.  Then repent again.  ["There's things, there's…people… feelings that I want to experience differently than I have before"]  🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Awww man… Teef.  That’s brutal.  Blech  [“Summer teef.  Sum 're teef, sum 'ren't”]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

☠️☠️☠️☠️ Noooo

Priest is like… ma’am you gud  [No, she ain't]

I had stuff to say but Ackles has reappeared instead (like an Angel)

Oooh jumpscare

The smileee

The smile is gone  🙁

Uhhh no… I don’t

Speed run  ["Blurring," in the in-universe speak]

☠️☠️☠️ I swear he comes in so randomly WITH GROCERIES  like

– – – 

Wench: What were you saying when Ackles showed up? alskdjf

Jezebel: 😮‍💨😮‍💨  It was a joke and I don’t fully remember it enough to retype ☠️  Ackles just rewired my brain and it erased.  Irrelevant.  Non existent.

Wench: :))) Fair

Jezebel: But noooo the smile at Max 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I-  I swoo— I’m married sir how dare you

Wench: Nooo

Jezebel:  I- I have forgotten how to midpoint! All I wanna do is fangirl rn ☠️ and he’s only been in two scenes

Wench: I almost spilled my cereal at that one alksdjflaksdjf  But I understand completely

Jezebel: Will be a better endpoint

Wench: Aight… on we go?

Jezebel: YESSSS

– – – 

The priest is gonna get ded

“Faith in the lady”  That’s… ok  🤣🤣🤣

Priest is like… shit.  Time to find another line of work

[The eagerness with which he seized on the soldier explanation 😭]  😭😭😭

“The lady”  I’m dying

Oh noooo

I fucking jumped

["I'm not a liar"... murder = okay, lying = not.  This says something]

Ok I see what he’s doing I think

I’d be ded.  “Slide the wot IN WHERE!?!  Pretty boy help!”

“Click”?  Oh, or maybe it was loaded after all

Poor priest

A lot, lady.  A lot

[Poor Ben having a crisis of faith :(]  💔💔💔 Damn.  It be like that kid

Oooop  [He invaded her perch]  He gonna start talking in circles now  [He already did... Devour-coded]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

[THIS IS THE "SHE"!  (The one I said to be concerned about)]  Ohhhh… That wants the kids killed?  [Yup]

[X5-493 = Ben, btw]  494 Alec?  [Yup.  And X5-452 = Max, iirc]

Ohhhhh military Karen  [She calls him Deck]  Milataren… Lintlicker and Militaren.

[Oop- Ben is back.  Important scene!]

Bruh he looked back like oh shit  [She annoys me here too btw.  Like.  bro, your brother is clearly losing himself.  And you're more interested in being bitchy about it than being caring.  “Bet he’d love to figure out what the hell went wrong with you.” Whyyyy did that need to be said?]

Lintlicker is like a fucking dog fighter with his little gaggle of pit bulls

Oh shit, crazy kids  [Azazel-coded]  Ooooof, trueee  [I heard it in his voice alksdj]  

[he wears fine blood well]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  [Sorry, kinda had to]

Logan whatchu doin  [He sneak]

Lintlicker whatchu doin  [He protecc his kid]

Oooop- Logan you been had

["You think because she's so pretty, she isn't as dangerous?"  Bruh, there was a whole unit designed to use attraction as a weapon asldkfj  *cough cough* Alec]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

[I'd be concerned about Ben too, tbh]

Ooooop  [“Do you hate yourself that much?”  Yes  He does.  Have you not been watching?]

[This woman sees her brother losing himself and is like.  Aight.  I got this.  Let me make it worse!]  ☠️☠️☠️

AHHHH 

NOOOOO 

THE SAD

OMG HIS HEIGHTTT.  It’s visible here

YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT THE WHOLE TIME???  [Her physical acting there was so weird]

Ooooop

Oh.  The forest.  THE forest.  Ack.  ACKKKK.  [:)]

[This man playing the actual original comic book villain: "It seems his faith wasn't strong enough."]  RIGHT

OH CRAZY SMILE

BRUH

HOLY SHIT

Oh.  Oh that’s broken.  Ack

OH SHIT

ACK

AAAAAAACK  ["Ben, I can't carry you; we'll both get caught"  Bitch, tell that to your pilot-episode self]

ACKKKKKKK

HIS VOICE  [I KNOW]

ACHKKS

Nooooooo

Why couldn’t you just do it

Why

We don’t need a story

Ack

Ooooof

Ack  [Coherency has gone bye-bye]

Welp… Ack

Mood, Max

I’m

Um

Ack

Also tho.  The thing back then isn’t entirely fair they were kids

The priest is gonna be like…. Nope

[Priest survived, but he also has a weirdo barcode tattooed on his neck, and that's gonna make his life hella tricky in s2]  Ohhhh, he comes back?  [Nope.  They forget about it.  But everyone learns about the Manticore barcodes.  And that's the main way of IDing transgenics.  So like… Buddy boutta get slammed.]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Fair

– – – 

Jezebel: So, like, endpoint….  What even is an endpoint?

Wench: "Ack,” perhaps?

Jezebel: What even is life?  I’m not ok

Wench: I broke you alskdjf

Jezebel: … Ack.  Which is like ack…les. So even more ack.  I hope you and the minions are satisfied.  Evil.  Evillllll!  ACKKKK!!!!!  I AINT EVEN GET ANY JAM PONY TO MAKE IT BETTER

Wench: Okay, but s2 is better!  Alec is only three episodes away!

Jezebel: I got two seconds of OC- THAT’S A WHOLE THREE HOURS AWAY!  😭 180 minutes

Wench: Do you see what I mean about it being the best episode of season 1 though?

Jezebel: Yes!  It very much so was!

Wench: HAH!

Jezebel: Also noooooo the titleeee makessss sense nowwwwww!!!  Ackkkkkkkkk  What am I doing with this pain????  It’s like a reverse gift

Wench: You just kinda acked your way through the emotional scenes; I sent the script so you can compose your thoughts :)

Jezebel: Ohhhh.  Well… That was a lot of 😦 Like, I get him going crazy.  Also, I think I missed a part of Logan saying he had been doing this for a while (How long is the part I missed)

Wench: I don't think they said how long it was.  But, regardless, Lydecker's been covering for Ben.  Shutting down the investigations and all.

Jezebel: And, about that… On one hand I could go the anti Lintlicker route and say he’s only covering his ass because the woman wants to put them down and he doesn’t want to. And it’s nothing about him caring about them or anything.  But I could also go the pro Lydecker route and say he was trying to cover it up to get to him so they could in his eyes fix the problem and he would have another “kid” home.

Wench: I think it's probably a mix of both, tbh. He does care about them, but, like we've discussed, in a twisted kinda way?  So it might have been a "bring him home if we can" kinda thing.  And… thoughts on Max?

Jezebel: She was meh at best this episode but the end, with the story, I really felt for her.

Wench: Yeah, I get that.  I don't fully agree --- I think her handling of the Ben situation was pretty atrocious, tbh, even if it did end up working for a bit --- but otherwise... yeah, not bad.  And the end was kinda hard to fully hold against her.  (Also, talk about a picturesque death scene alsdkfj)

Jezebel: Right?! Like, oh, let’s have this lovely scenery, and plop a dead kid in his sister’s arms… oh, and sister is the murderer… Like… Wot?  Ack

Wench: Also, the childishness of the way he was speaking tho 😭

Jezebel: I KNOWWW  😭😭😭😭  Budddyyyyy

Wench: Honestly, the character as a whole has that quality.  He's so... beseeching.  Legitimately, all he wants is someone to understand 😭  He tries to get that with the priest in the confessional --- "I'm a soldier"--- and with Max at the tower --- "Don’t tell me you don’t wake up with the sound of your heart pounding in your ears." --- and then again with Max at the end.  Even the goading-Max-into-hitting-him bit.  He wanted her to understand the violence and she didn't even give him that 😭

Jezebel: 🥺🥺🥺 I just 😭😭😭😭 He’s such a good actorrrrr  😭😭😭

Wench: Agreed... *sigh*  But there ya go!  Ben episode!

Jezebel: *sigh* indeed!

Wench: Final thoughts?

Jezebel: … ACK

[sayakxmi]

[Magi rewatch] Episode 7: His Name Is Sinbad [Part 1]

Oh, yeah, it was definitely the right call. I already feel less exhausted having to watch this. Should've done this from the beginning, but, well, a Pole is smart after a mistake, not before it.

Me for, like, half of this goddamn year. Hot as balls. For how long, actually? October or November. Jesus. I think October, cuz November/December I was on-and-off sick. What a fucking time to be alive.

The characters tend to look kinda eh at times, but man, are the backgrounds cool.

A bunch of characters nobody cares about, but in the manga they thought they'd be able to get people to join them in Balbadd, but here they're just. Going there, I guess.

He does look good.

Also SQUIRREL. And a BIRD

She looks good in here.

"You don't have to thank either of us! Alibaba did it, because he's a kind person!" Like, you're completely right, but also gets me how much Aladdin trusts and believes in Alibaba. And, the thing is, he isn't wrong to do so - Magi can kind of read people's Rukh, so Aladdin gets the kind of person Alibaba is on instinct. Still, F.

Also, gfdi, why does it all look so pretty. The colors get me, too.

What a character introduction. What a legend.

It kind of reminds me. You guys know, Magi is like one of the series that's the dearest to my heart. One of the few. Which is why I get so critical of it. And it's hilarious when I think about the fact, that this AMV is the reason I watched it in the first place. I'm not kidding.

"Why are you freaking out? :("

Also, gdi. Magi rewired sth in my brain, and whenever I hear Daisuke Ono I immediately think about Sinbad, it'll never stop. Did you know Jing Yuan from Honkai: Star Rail has Daisuke Ono as VA? And Wriothesley from Genshin Impact. I'm still processing that, lol. Other one I'll always recognize bc of Magi is Kaji Yuki (Alibaba). Funnily enough, he voices one of my fav Pokemon character - Clemont. Imagine my surprise. Man, maybe I do have a type.

I love low quality Magi.

He looks normal in the anime. Kinda nostalgic, good. Also, the wording seems to be a bit different, but mostly the sentiment remains.

Agh, look how excited he is to meet another adventurer! You get it, mister, you get it!

What if Aladdin became Sinbad's Magi, hmm.

There's some yt channel that posts Kimetsu no Yaiba videos, what ifs, and then offers like three scenarios. Lastly it was what if Muzan was a Demon Slayer. Can't help but think abt it whenever I consider some what if.

She smelled Hakuryuu's cooking.

It really looks nice. From afar.

Huh, in the anime they don't mention how various races mingle here.

Paper money. Something that Sinbad notices. Good characterization moment + good hint at what the porblem might be. Neat.

Reminded me abt one of the fics that I'm writing. These goddamn towers. Two fics, actually. Though one of them is just recalling the events from the other.

Anyway, back to the ep, I do think it's cool. Lots of show don't tell.

Yeah. In the previous arc we've heard that Balbadd wasn't doing well, and now we get to see it.

Down with the monarchy.

This entire scene is still hilarious.

"We're going to have to help him out, Masrur." "Damn."

I love Ja'far. What a pro.

Since I had to delete it from the chapter post bc of the photo limit. Here. Morgiana & Masrur noticing each other.

The Sinbad experience.

Pffff

The sound he makes, lmao. "Ahhhhh". He's so not getting paid enough to deal with this bs.

Also, sad: we don't have Masrur helping him :/ That was such a nice moment : (

White eyes. You killed him, Sinbad. You killed your future husband.

"You're Sinbad, the King of Sindria!"

[haarute]

sorry that this is late but for that long list of ask me things #4

4: What do you think about most?

okay this will be a lot

i don't have a particular thing i think about throughout the day as i usually get distracted by whatever i come across with work, hobbies, social media, etc. so what i think about the most would have to be a recurring thought in the long-term, which for me, is almost daily constant introspection.

without getting into too many details let's say i hit a major depressive episode i never fully recovered from at age 15 and just kinda shut down. i ran away from the things that hurt me (which historically is a recurring bad habit of mine), leaving people close to me behind when i shouldn't have because i wanted to be alone.

but since humans are social creatures, after a while i tried to meet new people and get along with them, but in retrospect those relationships were shallow and desperate. it's incredibly easy to just say nice things to people who need to hear them until they like you, but you're not actually forming a connection because you're not a real person, and often times, neither is the other party. you're just leeching off of each other with the illusion of kindness.

eventually that led to a another episode followed by the thought that i kept hurting people by not being able to keep my emotions in check and just acting out of selfish impulses. so i decided to completely dedicate myself to "improving" my person so that i wouldn't have to hurt anyone again.

i'm a few weeks away from being 27 now, and i've spent almost 10 years essentially running therapy sessions with myself every day. going over all of my life events, my feelings, my actions, and how to best minimize the amount of "damage" i inflict on others which has mostly led me to a hermit lifestyle. but let's be honest, that's also partially an excuse because i'm afraid of getting hurt again.

now the problem with that mentality is obviously thinking that suppressing my ego is somehow a good thing and not an incredibly damaging thing to do not only for me but for anyone that might care about me, which is not something i have any control over.

this is a mentality that i am just finally starting to grow out of almost a decade later, but it's really hard and i still default to seeing myself and any of my wants or needs (or even other people's) as something inherently bad. desire as something inherently selfish. and we could tie a plethora of gender issues imparted onto me by my upbringing and immediate family into this, but let's not go there today.

ultimately the place where i land now is one where i'm realizing how much of my life has been lost already, and how much of my decisions have been super damaging for literally everyone involved. which to my surprise, and even if i try to be as alone as possible, goes beyond only me.

so now i'm starting to actually allow myself to express my true feelings a bit more. i try to be a bit more outspoken and reach out to others and maybe even make friends, except this time i'm like a real normal person and not someone running simulations in order to be liked. fun fact, i believe i may be autistic and would like to get a diagnosis sometime this year.

however, circling back to the original question (because there was a question at the beginning of this), i have done this for so long that it's almost impossible for me to stop the way my brain works now. i think i've forever been rewired into analyzing everything and trying to problem solve my humanity, which is something that is unquantifiable. but i am always trying, if anything, to be a better person, except now i can tell that i shouldn't suppress my own self for that goal. but it is very much a daily process for me.

in a different life, i probably would have been a buddhist monk.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

How Mervana shows Louie’s response to trauma.

I made a super short post basically saying “Hey I like how Mervana highlights Louie’s trauma and it’s effects on him” and people seemed interested in hearing more about it so here’s that post.

Now, it’s no secret (generally) that Louie really hates adventures. That’s obvious throughout the show, up to the most recent season. He never seems to want to go on adventures, always objecting to them or not going or changing his mind and wanting to go back half way through. The show never fails to remind us that he hates them. What’s more, the show never fails to remind us exactly why Louie hates adventures. In Glomtales he was actually happy to be missing the adventure at first, commenting “Well, at least I can skip out on another insanely dangerous adventure”. Something that only changed when he realized they were going somewhere not only safe but actually fun, something very rare. In The Golden Armory Of Cornelius Coot he rocks back and forth trying to convince himself of why the adventure was worth it, clearly extremely distressed. “Do not laugh in the face of my danger” he shouted when Dewey starting giggling. Later in that episode he basically sobbed out “I wanna go home”. In Challenge Of The Senior Woodchuck he says “I’m cold and terrified, this sure seems like an adventure to me.”

Most of the family isn’t actually affected by the constant stress and danger they’re put in. Huey, Dewey, Webby, Della, and Scrooge all find it incredibly exciting, Donald used to once upon a time and he stopped adventuring after it stopped being that. Nobody else has really gone through what Louie has. He isn’t built for adventuring. He’s been kidnapped, physically and mentally hurt, almost killed. Constantly. According to an article I read, “Trauma results from an event, series of events, or set of circumstances that is experienced by an individual as physically or emotionally harmful or threatening and that can have lasting adverse effects on the individual’s functioning and physical, social, emotional well-being.” and well, that absolutely fits the bill here. Below i’m going to put some symptoms of trauma that are in line with what we’ve seen from Louie throughout the show

Anger, irritability, mood swings

Anxiety and fear

Guilt, shame, self-blame

Withdrawing from others

Feeling sad or hopeless

Feeling disconnected or numb

Fatigue

Being startled easily

Edginess and agitation

Extreme alertness; always on the lookout for warnings of potential danger

Detachment from other people and emotions

Emotional numbing

Suspicion

Throughout the show there are many instances of Louie’s trauma being very obvious to anybody paying attention. However I think the episode Mervana actually showcased the effects outside of just Louie being visibly distressed over actively being in danger. Other episodes have shown his symptoms, obviously. His anxiety and fear are always on during at adventure and when they aren’t he’s shockingly, almost unusually numb to the situation. He’s almost always very fatigued (although the line between what’s fatigue and what’s just ‘laziness’ is a bit blurred), and he’s almost always a bit too hostile towards others. But Mervana showed a really direct ‘cause and effect’ type relationship with the things they’ve been through and his behavior throughout that episode.

Starting off the episode, we can see Louie seems very detached. He’s texting throughout Huey and Scrooge’s monologues. As I said earlier, when it comes to adventuring he’s always either in fight or flight mode or he’s completely detached, maybe offering occasional dull but volatile remarks here and there. Eventually Louie makes a comment about how “Now there’s two people putting us in constant danger” before sitting like this for the next minute or so

The other’s are mid conversation but he just kinda sits there blankly for a while before turning to make another remark. “Yeah, I definitely can’t wait to find a bunch of lost undersea monsters who definitely won’t have a dark secret that almost gets us killed”. And it’s important to recognize that Louie isn’t just being a pessimist here. He may not be in panic mode at the moment because he tends to emotionally detach himself until it’s time for his fight or flight responses to kick in (likely a way to cope with the constant anxiety that seems to follow him) but he’s still got a very good point because they are put in constant danger and this episode really, truly, is no different. Webby even asks “Why do you always have to assume the worst?” to which Louie pulls out his running list of the times they’ve been offered as a sacrifice. He’s almost died countless times. He’s watched his brother’s and sister almost die countless times. No, not countless, he’s counting. He’s literally keeping count of the number of traumatic experiences he’s gone through, which is at least one hundred and twenty. And that’s just the amount of sacrifices, which is to say nothing about kidnappings or non sacrifice related straight up murder attempts. 

Let me just say, though, that his suspicious nature, while completely natural due to his past traumatic experiences, and while somewhat grounded in reality because they did end up in danger during this episode, wasn’t completely accurate. Most of the Mervanan’s were genuinely good people but Louie immediately assumed they were going to hurt him and his family. He was on edge. He was immediately suspicious, even before he met them, even before he was given reason to be suspicious. The only person who read into things as deeply as he did was Beakley, who’s a secret agent. She will have been trained to be suspicious and pick up on small signs that something isn’t right, but Louie wasn’t. Louie was just on edge and suspicious of everything because those are big signs of trauma. He was right that something wrong was going on, but it wasn’t observational skills on his part as shown by the fact that he was sure they’d be put in danger before they ever met the Mervanan’s. 

A few times this episode we see the flip from Louie being on edge and suspicious to him actually genuinely being put in danger. And you can see clear as day that he gets no satisfaction out of it. Everyone else is usually proud or energized. Excited to fight, smug when they win or get away. It’s not the same for Louie.

And you can see there’s a difference even between Beakley’s suspicions based on genuine observation and valid doubt when compared to Louie’s which are based in the fact that he’s a traumatized individual who’s had his brain rewired in a way that makes him suspicious to an unhealthy degree. “You have no idea weather or not they’re going to feed us to their monster king?” Beakley asked The Harp. She was suspicious because she knows how the world works and realized something was wrong (because something was wrong) but she was rational about it. They didn’t have solid evidence, she didn’t know for sure. But Louie immediately replied by saying “they definitely are” which isn’t a rational thought process when he really, truly had no evidence to believe so other than his deepseeded instinct to trust nobody.

And when Beakley admitted that she didn’t trust the Mervanan’s either there was very little smugness in the way he handled it. Louie didn’t insist as hard as he did that something was wrong and that you can’t trust anybody just to prove a point to Webby. Immediately he interrupted Beakley and Webby’s situation by jumping in with “We need to get the harp down to the Mervanan’s or we’re all going to die!” Louie was truly in panic mode throughout this episode. He wasn’t just being a pessimist trying to crush Webby’s bright optimistic hope, he was trying to protect his family. When he first set off to find the harp he said “I’m going to find the harp before we all get sacrificed”. Then when he was debating weather or not to tell Webby the truth he pointed out that “If she doesn’t (find out the truth) she’ll be fish food!”. Then when he’s trying to move the harp down to the other’s his biggest concern is “Gotta save family”. It’s not just pessimism, it’s fear and suspicion, which are very different things. 

Later on we see that Louie’s ideals don’t fully match up with his behavior either. “The king turned himself into a monster, but you’re not him.  You built a society based on truth, and the truth is you don’t need Mervana to be good.” before turning to Webby and telling her “Somebody once told me that you have to look for the best in people and not assume the worst” and honestly, I don’t feel like this is abnormal thinking for him. Believe it or not, Louie is the kind of person to believe in other’s positive traits. He does very often see the good in people and obviously on a level of principal alone he doesn’t think all people are bad.  

However principals and logic are often overcome by the brain’s natural response to trauma. And those natural responses often aren’t as idealistic as “anyone can be good and you shouldn’t assume the worst in people”. Fear and anger and anxiety. Seeing danger everywhere. Always being on guard. They’re not something you can control. No matter how much you believe people can be good that instinctive urge to trust nobody spurred on by trauma is often much stronger. Especially when you’re not getting any professional help and have someone to protect. Even if Louie wanted to believe in people (and I think he does), his survival instincts are stronger than that. Even if he didn’t care about his own safety, he has a family who are too dumb to care about their own so he has to do that for them.

Overall a LOT of Louie’s storyline during Mervana was obviously highlighting his response to the trauma he’s had to deal with over the course of the show. And sadly I don’t think he’ll stop having these reactions anytime soon because it takes more than just knowing people can be good to deal with changes to your brain’s chemical makeup.

[my-happy-little-bean]

Constellation Observations

pairing: logince (woah bean isn’t writing logicality what’s this–) warnings: mild swearing, insecurity, talks of burn out, allusions to a depressive episode words: 3456

summary: Logan begins to write a series of observations to learn more about Roman; and as he does, he grows to understand his universe (and perhaps falls in love with it too). 

a/n - somehow, reading stuff by @sign-from-god-complex inspired me to go out of my comfort zone and write some logince fluff. it’s not the most revolutionary logince content out there, but it out here :p plus i wrote this whilst lying down in my backyard again so consider this my way of giving you a piece of my good day :”) also i am still trying to figure out the next golden slumbers chapter so i needed to give my brain a break :pp

enjoy!

[read on ao3~]

---

Observation #1: Roman always picks at the grass in the Imagination, even if he is the one who grows it. Reasons for the needless destruction of his own creation remain unclear at the moment. 

-

Perhaps it was because he was exhausted beyond belief, but Logan just couldn’t stop staring at Roman. 

Logan had his notebook in his lap like he always did; though this time, he was sitting on the grass of the Imagination, not in his desk chair. It was late at night as well, maybe 2:30 AM. However, the stars in the sky flickered in a way that made Logan believe in the possibility of a timeless day.

It did not surprise Logan that he was still awake, given all the work that had to be completed. Thomas’ work schedule for the week was impacted by a rather unwelcome last-minute change, so Logan, of course, had to take a figurative evening shift.

What surprised Logan was that Roman was awake too. 

It seemed as though it was going to be a sleepless night for both of them. Roman brushed off his presence in front of the coffee machine as nothing; a mere necessity in light of the new change. Though in hindsight, Logan knew more. The shift in schedule was a result of a production issue, which meant that the idea had to be re-worked. So of course Roman would be awake.

Roman, ever so kind of him, hence decided that Logan’s presence in the kitchen was a ‘sign from the heavens’ that he needed company (when really, it was just the result of Logan needing a refill). He then brewed coffee for the both of them and invited Logan to spend the night in the Imagination. 

Logan would never admit it, but he was always intrigued by the Imagination. It was almost like Roman’s secluded workplace, separate from the Mind Palace and the rest of the sides. Not many of them ever really thought it was worth the visit; after all, they all had their own responsibilities, and the Imagination was simply Roman’s. However, Logan’s curiosity couldn’t help but lunge at any opportunity to visit; and while he knew none of it was real, he always left feeling rather awakened and alive.

So that was how he found himself sitting on a grassy hill in the Imagination, with Roman beside him, lying down on his stomach with his elbows propping him up slightly. Logan hadn���t touched his notebook in what felt like hours, only lifting it to mask a yawn. Roman, however, appeared to be busy picking at the grass below him. 

“Do you have nothing productive to be doing right now?” Logan said, breaking the silence between the two. “Thomas needs a new idea before his friends arrive in the afternoon for shooting the revised takes of his video.” A pause. Logan added hesitantly, “I believe I cannot continue without your final verdict.” 

“Aww, you can just say you need me, Erlenmeyer trash!” Roman said in a pouty voice; one that made Logan tear his eyes away from the dramatic sight. Determined to be seen, he rolled over onto Logan’s lap, flinging his hand onto his forehead. “Just say that you need me like one needs the air above – that you need me like one needs the ocean and all that it bears– Logan! Just tell me you can’t live without me!”

A beat of, quite frankly, unapproved silence. Logan just scoffed. 

“That is obviously not the case.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but kept his energy steady.

“Anyway, I’m workin’ on it!” he exclaimed defensively, yet Logan couldn’t find it in himself to believe him. After all, Roman wasn’t even looking at him. 

Instead, he rolled over to a patch of grass further away from Logan, landing in the same position as before. He then lowered himself ever-so-slightly, the grass nearly grazing his nose, before slowly plucking an individual piece of grass from the ground. 

Logan sighed. “Roman, I do not see how your inefficient gardening tactics reflect that you are ‘working on it’.”

Roman looked up at him dramatically, his eyes narrowing at him. 

“I’m rewiring his brain, Logan.”

Logan placed the blame for what happened next entirely on his sleep-deprivation. He blinked, the words registering in his mind. Roman, not breaking eye contact with Logan, then placed the single strand of grass in a patch not too far away from where it originally grew. Logan watched in some kind of twisted horror as the grass straightened in its new place, then moved in the same way the rest of the grass did. 

“Are we–” He stood up frantically, grabbing his tie. His next words come out as a hushed whisper. “Is this Thomas’...”

A wide, pearly grin. “Figuratively, Specs.”

His eyes widened, staring at the grass he once sat on. If the grass—and hence, the Imagination—was a mere representation of Thomas’ brain, that meant– well that meant he was sitting on Thomas’ mind. The breakthrough, no matter how revolutionary, was utterly horrifying. What if he had stepped on an important synapse, damaging it permanently? What if that rock he idly kicked on the way to this hill represented a part of Thomas so essential to his development? What if–

Suddenly, Roman broke into loud, hyena-esque laughter. Logan stared at him, his eyes blown wide with fear when it suddenly hit him. 

Logan took a deep breath and resumed his place on the grass slowly, adjusting his glasses. 

“Now is not the time for falsehoods.”

Roman wiped a tear that was probably just for show. “Oh come on, Oscar the Protractor-Pouch; it was really funny.”

“Not in the slightest.” 

(Logan would never admit it, but he found it a little amusing. An infinitesimal amount, some might say. At least, in its execution; not its purpose. It was because he was tired though, nothing more.)

“Besides, we needed something to wake both of us up,” Roman said, swiftly rolling back to Logan’s side. He softly bumped against Logan’s knee. 

It was flawed logic, but Logan could appreciate that the logic was at least there. 

Logan lifted his pencil from his ear to resume writing—or at least, to resume his attempts at writing—then paused. 

“What were you doing, then?” he asked, looking down at Roman. He shrugged.

“I noticed some grass that was out of place.”

He said that as if it were obvious. 

Logan continued to stare at Roman, who was still picking at grass absentmindedly. He stared at Roman while he bouncing some possible ideas off of him. And while Logan contributed a great deal to their conversation, he couldn’t quite focus on anything else other than the clear image of Roman.

Roman, whose creation was so vast yet so meticulous; whose attention to detail was almost too impressive to be true. Roman, his companion with a work attitude and ethic that bewildered Logan to great extents. Roman, who worked so hard for so long on a job Logan dismissed as something that could be done in one’s sleep. Roman who, Logan suddenly realized, didn’t sleep much at all. 

And that was when Logan truly saw Roman for the first time, under the stars and on the carefully-crafted grass of the Imagination.

So, naturally, he wrote the observation down in his notebook to possibly revisit later.

---

Observation #12: When Roman is upset, he runs his hand through his hair; and he does so as if no one else could notice.

-

“You are not listening to me, Roman.” 

“Uh, I don’t think I like what you’re saying, which means I’m probably wasting some brain cells listening to you, Sir-Nerds-A-Lot!”

“That is not my name. And that is not how brain cells work. You would know that if you were actually listening to me.”

Roman huffed, running a hand through his hair. He threw his head back, as if motioning at the ceiling to come watch yet another one of their disagreements unfold. 

As much as he didn’t bother himself with feeling, Logan couldn’t help but feel bad for Thomas, who was standing helplessly in between their quarrel. It was always like this when it was just the two of them; Virgil nor Patton being present to mediate the situation. 

He could possibly stretch this illogical guilt to Roman as well. He had not meant to anger the other side, but he just couldn’t help it. He was frustrated with his behaviour, how he was talking as if he– and hence, Thomas– were invincible. It was reckless, it was foolish, it was...well, stupid.

Still, Logan knew now where the figurative line had to be drawn. It didn’t take many arguments with Roman for him to recognize when his anger reached a point that was impossible to work with.

Logan took a deep breath, adjusting his tie. 

“Okay. I see now that we are at a figurative crossroad with this discussion,” he said as cooly as he could. “Perhaps we should take a break.”

Thomas blew out a sigh of relief, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Thank you!” he cried out, already moving past Logan and towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a glass of water.”

“Yes, yes.” Logan noted the way Roman scrambled to pick up his own sanity as he spoke. “Let’s all take five.” He eyed Logan. “Even dunces need breaks between their...their dunce-ing.” 

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting a bit of his own frustration slip. 

“You are one to talk.”

Roman tilted his head at him. “Oh really?” 

Shit. Logan pushed his glasses up, trying to maintain his composure. 

“You are burned out, Roman,” Logan carefully said. “That is to say, you have overworked yourself not only in this conversation, but in your work in general. Therefore, it is not illogical to conclude that your burn-out is one possible reason why you are lashing out at me.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “What are you–”

“Which is why we can resume talking about this matter at a later date. After all, you are not thinking logically. You are dismissing Thomas’ well-being for the sake of work, you are stressing him out to immeasurable extents — this isn’t you.”

“What do you know about me?!”

Logan blinked. Roman looked as if he was frozen in time, still lunged forward at him. Despite the distance, Logan could see the darkened rings under his eyes.

He didn’t answer Roman’s question for a while. It was most likely rhetorical, but even if it wasn’t, he didn’t know how to respond. After all, twelve recorded observations and a whole lifetime with Roman didn’t help Logan truly understand him.

But as he stared at Roman, who was surely close to tears, he couldn’t shake the familiar pang in his chest. 

Through the glassy space between them was a reflection.

“I know myself,” Logan responded quietly. “It’s...it’s not good for anyone, Roman.”

It was quiet between them for a while. Roman drew himself back slowly, as if burnt by his words; and for a split second, Logan feared he had said the wrong thing. 

Then, Roman wordlessly nodded at him. His stare burrowing through him like a bullet through a mirror. Before Logan could say anything else, he sunk out before Thomas returned, leaving Logan to conclude their discussion alone. His fear faded into a slight buzz in his chest.

(His tripedations were later reassured when he found Roman sleeping in front of the TV in the Mind Palace, Moana playing hazily in the background. 

Logan sat beside him, stared at him for a bit, and then pulled out his notebook. He wrote something about the way Roman slept—peaceful, despite the storm behind his eyelids—before slowly nodding off as well.)

---

Observation #56: When Roman sings to Virgil, he does so by changing the song to fit a minor key. To Patton, he mostly sings him songs in C major. To himself, it varies. Perhaps he’s just practicing.

-

It was a hard day for Logan, and it was a long day for anyone else. When logic ran itself thin, there wasn’t much for Thomas to do other than wallow alone in his bed. 

Logan felt Virgil and Patton on his skin all day, clouding his logical reasoning until it was barely there. It made Logan feel stupid and helpless; like he was some kind of joke.

On days like this, Roman was surprisingly the figurative glue of the group. He would visit Virgil’s room first and listen to his worries, helping him channel his emotions into poetry and songs. Then, he’d bring Patton cookies and watch home-videos with him until Patton felt comfortable moving on. 

And Logan wasn’t sure why Roman bothered to visit him, but he did.

They couldn’t say much in Logan’s room, so they played along with the unspoken laws of his space and thought quietly to themselves instead. Roman was the only other side who understood why Logan’s room was mostly quiet; or at least was the only one to accept it. When no one talked, there was the smallest amount of room for subjectivity of any sorts.

Logan liked to think Roman found the idea clever; but judging by the way Roman looked at him with those eyes resembling that of a small puppy, Logan realized that he just found it sad.

Still, Logan’s room seemed to accept Roman’s classical music. 

(So did Logan.)

At one point, Roman nudged his head to the bookshelf in Logan’s room, seemingly asking for a recommendation. The two leave his room with a few books in hand and smiles bigger than they initially were; Roman’s brighter, and Logan’s now there.

They make their way to the Imagination where Logan now spent a lot of his free time. Roman didn’t even need to extend an invitation anymore; all he had to do was stand in Logan’s doorway and nod at him. Then, Logan would conjure up a new notebook and follow suit. 

(Logan found it strange how Roman didn’t notice the piles of notebooks labelled ‘Observations of the Imagination’. Or if he did, he made an effort not to pay attention to that corner of the room.)

(Logan was also relieved he kept his own personal notebook close, yet out of sight.)

It was halfway through Roman’s dramatic reading of “A Brief History of Time” when Logan broke into sobs. It was spontaneous and cruel that the tears couldn’t will themselves out of existence– that they even existed in the first place– but Roman didn’t seem to mind. 

He didn’t mind how Logan ranted about how illogical it was that he was crying, or how illogical it was that Thomas felt like he had nothing when he had everything. He didn’t mind how Logan cursed at himself for two minutes straight in an indecipherable mess of the English language. He didn’t mind that Logan called himself ‘faulty’ and ‘broken’ (but he did frown sadly).

And he didn’t mind when Logan laid his head on his shoulder, so drained from the sudden burst of emotion that he couldn’t lift himself up anymore.

“You need to do that more, Specs,” he murmured when enough silence had passed. He took Logan’s hand into his own and rubbed it gently with his thumb. 

“Do what more?” Logan scoffed, his voice hoarse from the strain. “Talk illogically?”

Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Logan’s hair. 

“Please.” Logan’s breath hitched at the sincerity. “I promise I’ll try to listen.”

Neither of them mentioned the kiss for the rest of the night because Roman started singing before Logan even had the chance to question its occurrence.

And when Roman sang to Logan, the key didn’t matter at all. 

What mattered more was the sound. It couldn’t be contained by terminology, but rather by how it danced in the air that hung above them before it was carried off by the wind. His voice ran across his skin through goosebumps, as if someone wrapped Logan in velvet sheets. It sifted seamlessly through each verse, smooth as caramel and filled with its sweet, sugary taste.

Roman cared for the song just as much as he cared for his creation. He picked at each note like a strand of grass, as if carefully pressing them into imaginary sheet music in the dirt.

Logan would never be able to find the words because he kept going back to the same one:

Beautiful,  beautiful,  beautiful.

And for a split second, the clouds in his mind parted, and the conclusion he reached seemed crystal clear. 

Roman was beautiful.

---

Observation #92: It has been decided that these observations no longer apply to a person, but rather to a constellation. Evidence for this conclusion can be found in the freckles around his nose; or in his bright, shiny smile; or in the fact that his spirit, if those were to exist, simply housed a million, trillion stars – an entire universe, one might say. 

At least, that is what it feels like nowadays.

-

Logan only understood love once he understood Roman. 

Roman was fire, burning and warm. At one point, Logan had no problem describing Roman as his own personal hell – though at this point, that conclusion wasn’t even that far off.

Because it hurt sometimes to look at Roman; to see him laugh with the others in a dazzling display of light and sound. It hurt to see him surrounded by love Logan wasn’t able to pick apart and understand, let alone reflect. 

He wasn’t broken. Roman made him understand that all too well. 

But he was incomplete; and it didn’t take long for Logan to realize what he was missing.

There was a hypothetical theory called space dementia; where astronauts in orbit become so entranced by the immense vastness of space that they grow obsessed with its beauty. 

And while there wasn’t much research done on the subject, Logan knew that his heart pulled towards the sight of Roman.

Roman was unlike anything Logan had ever seen or felt before. He was a million stars all wrapped up in a cluster in his chest, a vessel for something far more beautiful than this world deserved. 

Perhaps that was why he held himself so tightly on the nights they would spend sleeping in the Imagination together (Observation #45). Perhaps it was because he was holding onto that cluster so tight; tight enough that no stars would escape. After all, the tiniest of disturbances would cause the whole universe to fall apart. He was as delicate as the velvet skies they laid under, yet burned so brightly when given the chance.

And when Roman showed him even a glimpse of his creation, Logan was, for lack of a better word, star-struck. 

The piece Logan was missing took the form of a star, its edges worn and old as time itself. And it shot itself across the sky every night, as if flinging itself in their direction.

There was no set definition for what it was because Roman changed it every day. However, the idea remained the same.

Logan was missing Roman’s love. 

“How long have you known?” Roman whispered as they stood on their hill, the Imagination stretching far beyond them.

“I do not know,” Logan replied, though the word ‘forever’ rests on his tongue. He took a step forward and grabbed Roman’s hands. “But I came to my realizations not too long ago. I decided that it would be illogical for me to hide this information from you, so I have decided to tell you now. I hope this does not change things.” A pause. “At least, changes them negatively.”

“Logan…” Roman’s eyes looked so soft. It made Logan’s heart ache and made him vow to love Roman as passionately as he could, if given the chance.

“I know it does not make much sense that I can harbour such a feeling but I...I do.” He mustered up a smile. “I love you.”

“You can feel, nerd,” Roman giggled, taking a step closer towards Logan as well. His forehead pressed against his, and the tips of their noses grazed each other’s. 

He was so close. Logan’s skin caught on fire as Roman cupped his cheek, his other arm holding him tightly around his waist. 

“I love how you feel,” Roman murmured. Logan’s breath hitched at the words. “And I love you too.”

-

Observation #93: There will never truly be enough words capable of describing the feeling of kissing Roman. But one thing is for certain.

He is air and he is light, and he is the missing piece.

After all, his lips fit almost perfectly. 

(Though further experimentation is necessary in order to reach a solid conclusion.)

---

click here for a new and improved masterlist of all my writing if you’re interested ^v^

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

can you explain y/n’s powers a bit? i’m a little confused on the whole colors thing and auras thing. can they see people’s auras? and do they have early on-set dementia like their mother or when wanda was taking away their memories they panicked because they THOUGHT it was dementia? sorry if it’s too much, I’m just really interested in their powers and backstory and wanna learn and understand more!

It's totally cool, I made it sorta vague for a reason!

S o, there will be a little more on all this stuff in later episodes so I'm not gonna say much but--

The colors referring to their powers themselves is just, y'know, how Wanda's powers are red or Vision's are yellow. The three colors correspond with the three stages of alchemy (black = lead, white = silver, red = gold), which is just something I happened to look up and thought was cool, and I found the idea of Reader's powers having a "loading bar" sort of funny (they have a color for the beginning, middle, and end of the transformation process and anyone who knows that can then tell how far along they are into changing something via the color the object is); I gave an example of why in one of the last asks I answered about why it amuses me. All their main power is is that they can transform almost any matter, they just currently can’t control it, so weird shit is happening, lol.

They do not actually see auras, that’s just how they know to explain what they’re seeing! They actually have synesthesia, which is a neurological condition where when one sense is activated, another unrelated sense is activated as well (for those who don’t know), or used to until they got shot and their brain got rewired because of the damage. They also didn’t experience it while under the Westview Spell because as we’ve seen from the show, the spell fucks with your head and turns you into a completely different person. So long story short, the “auras” that Reader is seeing is just something caused by the synesthesia (when they touched Vision, they saw pink; when they saw Wanda for the first time after gaining their memories and personality and stuff, all their senses were activated and that’s why Wanda smells like candied oranges and turns her own special shade of Wanda Red; when she spoke, Reader saw her words in a blue-grey color and smelled fire), which at this point, is also intertwined with their powers so it came back a little more intense when the powers did but then got mostly locked up again when Reader came back into Westview and the Spell tried to take their memories again. It may or may not come back in full force, depending on how the rest of the story ends up going.

F i n a l l y, yes, they were diagnosed with early onset dementia like their mother, they found it out while they were in custody after Monica saved them from being shot. Seeing their mother’s memories deteriorate Terrified Them and they became depressed and self-destructive when they found out that they were fated for the same thing, but their self-destructiveness led to an accident that ended them back in S.W.O.R.D. custody... and to being paralyzed from the waist down until S.W.O.R.D. implanted tech into their knees and base of their spine to fix it, and the only reason I’m saying that here is because I might not be able to get it explicitly down in an episode but it was mentioned briefly in the last one. There’s a lot more that goes into this whole thing (another reason why they became a little more unhinged, whether they still actually have dementia/are paralyzed, what Wanda’s role is in it all, etc) but a lot of it is stuff I’m going to try to get into in the last couple episodes of Subtitles (and this post is very long as is), so I’m not going to go a lot more into it right now.

So, there ya go, three paragraphs of stuff, lol. Hopefully all that helps make things a little more clear! You’re welcome to still ask stuff if you have other questions and I’ll answer it to the best of my abilities without spoiling my plans for the next parts.

[trainwreck-in-glitter]

WHAT EUPHORIA GETS RIGHT ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS:

the high fucking highs: EG (“when I feel good I think it’ll last forever, but it doesn’t” at the Halloween party when rues attempted to kiss jules who rejects her again) I can’t relate to rues manic episode, since I don’t have bipolar but her jittery display of chain-smoking, obsessive thoughts, sleep deprivation, numbing the pain with coffee and taking more steps than she needs to captured the obsessive side of OCD very well, as well as the: COUNTING. I’ve had to repeat numbers in my head over and over and watching rue just start hysterically crying as a child during trying to complete that compulsion fucken’ sent me because I’d never seen an accurate nuanced way of this shown on television. I loved that her OCD wasn’t reduced to cleaning obsessively (EX’ Emma from Glee) even though many people struggle with OCD compulsions of that kind it’s a bit of an overused trope almost like a laughing track in sitcoms, and usually doesn’t serve the characters development in any purpose having their OCD solely exist for neurotypical characters to make sarcastic jokes about.

the l-o-w fucking lows: EX’ rue being glued to her bed for two days unable to engage with anyone or even get up to fucking piss resulting in a painful difficult to watch ¿UTI¿ scene. At a time I experienced severe intrusive thoughts I neglected taking care of myself so much that my hair formed dreadlocks and took hours to brush knots all out.

pushing everyone away: EX’ (I mean just look at the first gif, as well as how rue loses it at Lexi when she tries to check in on her.) while people struggling with any kind of mental illness have a tendency to isolate (espesh in cases of severe depression/mood disorders) however it’s not always aggressive sometimes it’s quiet silence in your room for a week and a half feeling completely immobilised (like with Jules during rues own depressive, she unknowningky sinks into one herself to the extent where her dad is concerned).

feeling like a burden: whether it’s because of your mental illness, low self image or like rue your addiction issues impacting those around you, rue confesses this to Lexi who in true Howard fashion holds her and tries to affirm that she’s nothing like that. Often feeling like your own problems are too heavy for anyone to bear or understand adds to the hopelessness and potentially it could be one of the biggest roadblocks to anyone’s recovery particularly Rue’s

being heavily affected by external factors, more so than normal: like social aspects of your life EX’ (Rue’s codependency on Jules, and Jules’ search for affirmation in sexual relationships, Rue’s nerves upon returning to school particularly hit me (I had a three week hospitalisation and received treatment that kept me off school frequently, and the responses from peers was right on). when noticed again Maddy tells Rue herself she thought she was dead and another friend in her car shouts for rue to “get in Casper!”. Things like school, relationships, daily tasks and functioning can feel a million time harder when you’re battling your own head, the way Euphoria demonstrates this is so raw and realistic it really hit home for me. This becomes even more heightened when people are dealing with trauma/grief ex’ (rue still carrying the grief of her dad and wearing his hoodie frequently and maddy going on a bender taking molly at the carnival forgetting to eat for two days after nate assaults her resulting in her having to be rushed into emergency where they find the marks).

addiction and the feeling of needing to escape your own head: rue will take around about any drug just to temporarily forget her own anxieties, she’s willing to lie (in drug tests by using her sober friends pee), and fight tooth and nail even if it’s against the people she loves/cares about eg: her family, fezco, etc). her addictive personality is made apparent by her obsessive behaviours, codependency with Jules, hyperfixations (watching 22 hours of love island straight) and then again in her drug use. zendaya does an amazing job at selling this all, the way her face slowly sinks from the depths of depression into what looks like she’s gotten a relieving breath of air conveys what exactly she’s getting out of this. with any addiction whether it’s substance abuse, sex addiction, eating disorders, skin picking disorders, etc there’s a need to escape but there’s also a sense of safety/reprieve from what’s making you need that escape. for Rue who is heavily characterised by her own self-blame eg: being scared of people she loves being mad at her like in that scene with Jules, the way she cried when she saw her mother and sister sleeping beside her in hospital when she woke up from her overdose, and in one of earliest narrations where she states “if I could be a different person I would, not because I want it but because they want it” and even asks Jules after she admits to being in love with her if she wishes she was different and Jules responded in the negative. she seems to want to dissociate herself because she feels the weight of her as a whole is too much for anyone and will only be disappointing. it’s sordidly relatable for anyone with low self esteem and as a rue stan the candidness can make the scenes hard to watch.

to recover or sink: rue says herself in narration that after rehab she had no intention of staying clean and for the first few episodes or so she was using to the point where she almost had an overdose in front of very traumatised Jules who then sets an ultimatum that in order for them to maintain their “friendship” rue needs to stop using and rue agrees almost immediately. the look of guilt and shame on her face as she cuddles into Jules who is still shocked and upset saying to rue “I’ve had enough traumatic shit in my life, I’m not trying to be best friends with someone who’s trying to kill themselves”. rue remains sober but clings to Jules almost in replacement, most of rues innocent crush was well innocent and very high school realistic in the way that everything feels heightened. and for a while rue is at her happiest, her best friend since childhood even saying to Jules “it’s because of you” which fairly overwhelms her because being somebody’s sole reason for recovery isn’t long term manageable OR healthy for either party. expanding on this the blame Jules gets for Rue’s relapse is a way we’re perpetuating that their codependent dynamic wasn’t detrimental to either of them, which is wrong. Jules felt immense pressure which in turn tainted her relationship with Rue, and Rue was readily giving more to a relationship where the other person wasn’t ready to reciprocate. Jules and Rue ultimately have a beautiful dynamic together and I’d love to see more of them in season 2 but I’d like it to be in some time when they’ve both explored and identified what they’re both wanting. Because I refusE to settle for anything less than #Kethan after the finale. anywho this all meant Rues hinted relapse in the finale had an inevitable quality to it, because she wasn’t changing because she wanted it but because they did. I feel that one line perfectly captures exactly what would have led to that relapse, from personal experience I tried to actively recover from an eating disorder to please my family but quickly relapsed because ultimately challenging thoughts that have been in your head for so long JUST FOR other people stops being rewarding too quickly because as much as they may want to be an active support system they don’t have the access to rewire your brain. I challenged my meal plan but not the thoughts telling me I was disgusting. Rue still felt like a burden, she never challenged that only the drug use. it would be amazing to see Rue in therapy or even just actively attempting self care and explaining how and why that might feel so hard to someone struggling. I think Euphoria this season has set up a perfect segway for the second season, and so far they have managed to portray the complexities of being a teenager with a mental illness in glitter while keeping it relatable and not being exploitative. I think after seeing Rues chronic struggle it would be really cool to see a character representing what recovery actually looks like when it comes from the right place, having that positive representation of trying to be proactive while struggling and still having questions would be a new arc for Rue and it would really show her growth however after the city incident only time will tell 😪

[therearemorethanfivenights]

Chapter 11 is up!

I’m spending my quaran-time wisely by writing about a dead teenager hunting for her killer.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674818/chapters/56827993

I’m also working on art, some shorts about characters we’ve yet to see and a backlog of chapters for if/when I lose momentum again. Planning ahead is important, kids.

Continue reading under the cut-

It had been a fair few hours since Marie's strange episode, and she was up and about once more. Up, about, and ready to follow her first lead. "Seriously, do you think I would hide something like being the witness to a god damn murder from everyone? I'm literally designed so that I can't do that." Mangle was sat sorting through a small box of mini LEDs. She was there, she was the one who screamed and was dragged off, it was impossible for it not to have been her. "That's my point exactly! Unless it was some insane near-death vision - which it definitely was not - then you were there. Yet somehow, you don't remember a thing. That can't have been an accident!" Marie grabbed her friend's shoulders tight, startling her. The tiny bulbs scattered at her feet, some finding there way through a gap in the floor panels of her den and dropping to the floor below. 

"Ifreann... what do you mean? You think someone wiped my brain? This isn't a movie Marie, and even if that was what happened, the only person who could have done that was..." She trailed off as she thought. The whole thing made more sense than she wanted to admit. If anyone had seen a crime, the criminal would want to remove the threat of them talking. So it was entirely possible that she had seen her friend's murder. By that logic, any one of the animatronics could have been a witness to or even assisted with one of the murders. But they couldn't. "Fixing our mechanisms is tricky, but doable. Rewiring a whole bunch of stuff in our brains, so to speak, is nigh on impossible. At the time of you getting shanked-" "Tactful as always." "I was the only person capable of doing anything remotely close to that. There was only one man who could have done it to such a degree of 'not-fucking-everything-else-up-as-well', and he was definitely dead by then." She finished, muttering further as she began the grueling task of tidying the bits on her floor. Marie paused. She was right, of course. Everybody knew the fate of William Afton, he had killed himself shortly after the Bite had occurred. Unless...

"What if he wasn't dead. What if he isn't."

"What?"

"William, the guy who built you. You said that he was the only one capable of fiddling with your head with that level of precision. To wipe all traces of an event without leaving a weird gap in your memory that would make you suspicious. What if he never offed himself, but just made you forget who he was... describe him for me." Marie had a hunch. "What, William? Well, he was... he was... I... I don't remember anything about him." She stopped picking at the floor. "But, he was always elusive, right? Not many people saw him and we only did during the early days. We never saw him after we were installed at the restaurant. At least... I don't think we did."

It suddenly made sense. Or at the very least, more sense than it had before today. If her theory was correct, then it would explain why, despite being walking security cameras, nobody had seen anyone suspicious. They were programmed to find everything about this guy completely normal, no matter how much creepy lurking and luring he may be doing. But while she had a plausible suspect, there was no motive. "I'm going to think on this a while. You, uh, have fun with your blinky lights." She said, handing her the closest one before floating out the door and away. 

Dawn had been listening in as best she could. "Marie, not to butt in..." She emerged from the shadows beneath Mangle's den, squeezing awkwardly past various shelves. "I just wanted you to know... if I can help at all... like with all of this..." Marie smiled, trying to seem as unfazed as possible. "I know. I'm fine D, really." She continued towards the door. Dawn frowned. She didn't really understand any of this, and that bothered her. Normally if Marie had a problem she would tell her. She felt useless. "Actually..." She stopped. "Mind if I ask you something? Just wondering-" "Yes?" "Before you started here... There was a time between you and Afton right? When there was just, nobody doing repairs?" She asked. "No, I mean, yes there was nobody here. I think mostly it was just Mangle doing what she could." Dawn replied. "It's weird though, even with a robot brain, it would have taken a long time to figure out everything she has. So, before she knew what she knows... lucky there weren't any major problems, right?" She laughed nervously. "Huh."

Mike and Amy were still sifting through what information they could find on the Bite of '87. "Remember how this was just supposed to be a nice walk around to work off lunch?" Amy teased. She was enjoying their conspiracy hunt to a degree, but they'd reached an impasse a few articles back. There was the motive for murder but nothing could prove that the man was alive, let alone anywhere near the establishment at the time of the first murders. "I know." Mike was uninterested. If he wasn't here he'd be obligated to be at 'home' with his 'family'. No thanks, there had to be some way to prove him either right or wrong, either would be preferable to listening to his extended family argue about political bullcrap. And then the Puppet hovered in.

"Hey, how you feeling? I overheard something had happened. Blow a fuse?" Amy asked sympathetically. Chica came by to explain that something strange had occurred on her way to see exactly what that meant, but they were too absorbed to follow. "Yeah... something like that." Marie peered over at the screen. "So what kinda smut are you looking at?" She asked, half-joking.

"News stuff."

"So no tits? Disappointing." She sighed. Amy raised an eyebrow. "I'm kidding. Mostly. What kinda news?" "We have this theory, about our killer, but it's nothing to worry over." Mike turned the monitor to show her the current article. "I mean, it involves a locally famous suicide being faked and a cyber-child, so probably in the realm of the crazy and slash or impossible." He scrolled absentmindedly onward. Marie immediately tensed up. "Mike... Is this the case of one William Afton? Because boy-howdy do I have some interesting insight into that mess." She made an uneasy grin. Mike nodded, almost amazed. He got up from his chair and let the Puppet sit down, uncaring as to whether it would make a difference. He perched by Amy on the desk, who seemed just as stunned. "We... have the motive to believe he's the one doing this, but there's no way we could prove he's still around. If we could then maybe, but right now we've hit a wall." He explained. Marie nodded slowly.

"Funny, I have the opposite problem. I can prove he was around I think, but not why." She said. "But you might not believe the 'source' exactly."

Mangle hadn't remained in her den for long. The more she tried to think of her creator, the less she seemed to actually remember, and this was bothering her. So she decided to ask around. Crawling through the vents, she tried to think of her earliest thoughts, before she had arrived at the pizzeria. Vague memories floated around. A voice, she could remember a voice, but was it his? It was polite, asking her things, always amazed by her answers. That had to be him.

"Toy Foxy? I wanted to ask you something." He said. "You're voice is different. It used to be the one I gave you, do you remember?" He imitated a voice she barely thought her own. "But now it's something different. Why is that? Do you know what it is?" She remembers feeling pestered, but she always answered. She had to, being considerate and helpful, but she didn't feel like it at times. "It's... Irish, isn't it? I just prefer the way it sounds. It feels like... the other voice is good, but it's yours. I want this one, it sounds like me. Why? Are you offended I didn't like what you gave me? Because I'm not changing it now." She laughed. She was much happier then, if a little annoyed by the barrage of questions.

She crawled out of the vent and down into the main hall. Below, Toy Chica was sat on her phone. Everyone had seemingly scuttled away, presumably coming to terms with today's revelation, but Toychi seemed to be entirely over it. "I've seen weirder things on the internet, in case you were wondering why I haven't curled up in a corner. I can see your reflection, y'know." She said, not looking up. Mangle extended her neck as far as possible to continue the conversation. She always misjudged how high the ceiling in here was. "Hey so, how much do you remember about William?" She asked. Toychi shrugged and continued to look at her various social media feeds. 

"Come on, I need to know because of reasons." She swung her face so her hair covered Toychi's vision. "Important reasons." She affirmed. Toy chica sighed and did as she was asked. "I remember he was from England. And like, he was married I think." She said, trying to push Mangle's head away. "But nothing personal? Nothing the just us, his life's work, would remember? Or even what he looked like?" "Of course I remember... huh. That's... totally not ok. I have an amazing memory, how the hell can't I remember that guy?" She immediately began searching her phone. "I remember he gave me this, maybe I took pictures," she switched to the internet, "Google knows everything, maybe they have a picture!" She was becoming increasingly distressed. "Mangle! What the fuck does this guy look like?!" She cried.

At this point, Toy Freddy had emerged from backstage. "What the heck are you yelling about now? Is anyone else secretly a ghost?" He wasn't feeling up to any more ghost shenanigans. However, this didn't seem like something he could ignore, given the frantic pace at which Toy Chica had begun waving him over. "What colour hair did William Afton have?!" She asked, still aggressively applying as many advanced search keywords as possible. "What? How the heck would I know?" He responded. She barely acknowledged this, still scouring her device. Mangle clambered not-so-gracefully down from the ceiling. "Was he fat, or thin? What colour were his eyes? Did he have freckles? We should know, man, but we don't! Why?!" Toychi dropped her phone into her lap with a small thud before burying her face in her arms on the table. 

"I mean, yeah, that is a little unusual. Maybe it's a glitch? Or maybe we just don't remember? Ten years is a long time." He sat beside her. It was strange but surely there were more important things happening than trying to remember one man. "A glitch for all of us? And I have over a thousand people's names, faces, birthdays, favourite flavours of ice-cream... We can't forget things, not really, not unless we delete things ourselves." Came a slightly muffled reply.

"Ok, but why does he even matter. He made us then dropped off the face of the earth, big deal." He said. He was actually quite interested in helping find out just how exactly someone had removed all traces of themselves from their minds, as William no doubt had done, and why, but Toychi was in hysterics and he wasn't prepared to encourage her.

All the while, Mike continued to compile his resources. Marie decided it'd be best to let him handle things. She felt a little bad since as it was, everyone else was cleaning up this mess that she was at the center of, yet she was just idly floating around and keeping as far from it all as she could. Aside from the notes she'd been compiling, it was all down to the others. But she was far too tired to deal with anything more. She ducked into the arcade and flopped haphazardly into her box once more. She stared into the darkness, admiring herself. She had done fairly well, all things considering. 

"Why me though?" She asked aloud. It was an interesting question. From Mike's debrief, she knew who had killed her. At least, she thought she knew, because she was an outlier. The other victims were all connected. All were friends of Michael's older brother, William's nephew he'd taken in according to what little she remembered about her brother's friend's family. Then there was Alex, who could possibly have been a part of the group that hurt Michael. He wasn't, but William couldn't have known.

So why? She remembered the basement, the safe room. But that made no sense either. She was smarter than that, she watched horror movies all the time. How in the world could a total stranger have lured her into the basement of the Pizzaria?

Then she saw it.

It was a gift box, very like the one she now resided in. Aside from its sudden appearance, it could have been mistaken for a completely ordinary wrapped box. Something a child could have left for her or forgotten before closing the other day. It was Christmas after all. "Alright then." She said. Maybe she'd overlooked it, she wasn't exactly thinking straight. "Happy Hannukkah, me." She picked up the box. It wasn't small at all, yet it barely weighed anything. There was a small tag hanging from the bow. She squinted to read what it said, "You are not alone. If you awaken them, they will help you find him. They will help you hunt him. They will grant revenge... Ok, this is some weird shit." She dropped the box on the floor. 

"Revenge is for losers anyway." She laughed through her nose, amused by the idea that she'd want revenge. Really, she just wanted this guy found and dealt with for the sake of others, for Alex. She eyed the box with suspicion. "What does it mean, 'they'. Other kids? The ones from before?" That made sense. It didn't make any sense at all because this was all insane, but then again she was a ghost so she was already pushing her own beliefs. "Maybe..." Against her better judgment, she picked the box up again.

"Maybe I should let them out. Or bring them back with this thing, whatever it's for. I mean, if these are the other kids... what harm could they do, right? If they're vengeful I can stop them, I'm more powerful. I think." She wondered exactly how powerful she was. Enough to put a stop to some stupid toddler tantrums. She grasped the ribbons on the lid of the box. She tried once more to recall what happened the night of her death, secretly hoping that she wouldn't need this supernatural pandora's box to fix this if it even could.

It was the eve of Halloween, the eve of her birthday. "God, and then he just gets up as if nothing had happened." She was hanging around the alley beside the pizzeria, "Hey, mind letting me in on those?" She referred to the box of cigarettes in Vincent's hand. "These things kill you know." He said but still offered her one. He hadn't been ok since the Bite had happened. It was weird the place was open so quickly after such a massive accident, but it was probably something to do with corporate greed or whatever. She was more concerned about her friend. 

"Look, you need to take time off. I couldn't give any less of a shit what your boss says, this place should be shut for the rest of the year and you need help." She brought a cigarette to her lips and lit it. A terrible habit for a kid, she knew, but she was running out of legal ways to stave off stress. She sighed a long trail of smoke as he shrugged at her. "Don't shrug, you know I'm right." She said, resting her hand on his shoulder. He brushed it away dejectedly and continued to stare at the floor. 

"No offense Marie... but you don't know jack shit about what's going on right now. You don't know anything and you never will. You can't." He glared at her. Something was definitely off. His voice kept faltering, changing almost. Like his whole person was just an act. It scared her. But she thought she understood. "Just focus on keeping yourself safe, ok?" He tried to smile at her. She was a child, of course, there was no way she'd understand how this worked. Vincent sounded almost like her father, in a terrible sort of way, but it was fine. They'd both suffered, he was trying to push her away for both of them. She understood that.

Her face that night was a mess of make-up and grime. She'd looked for hours but he was gone. Her throat burned from trying to make her voice heard over the crowds of kids rushing to and fro. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, of course, blamed her. And for once, they were right, everything was her fault. But even now, as her mother wailed into her father's lap, as her father retold what they knew to his fellow police officers, she was going to fix this. She slid her window open and climbed outside. She clutched the only thing that seemed to bring any comfort, a doll of the Puppet, a gift from Vincent for her birthday last year. She hurried to the bus-stop. There was only one bus this late, she'd be walking home, but it didn't matter. She hopped on and dropped a large handful of change through the tiny gap.

Getting in was easy. Vincent taught her a trick with the back door into parts and services. "Alex?" She cried softly into the darkness. She wished she had a torch, this place was much creepier in the dark. She stumbled through the small warehouse. "Alex?" She was trying to be as loud as possible and as quiet as possible, she knew there'd be a guard on duty and the police could get here soon. She felt a little less concerned about the guard, she'd met Scott once and he seemed like a nice enough person, but he'd also likely call her parents. 

"Alex?" Her voice echoed through the corridors. Eventually, she found herself in the arcade. She pushed her back against the wall and slid to the floor. This was it. Alex was gone forever. "Marie? Oh my god Marie what are you doing here?" Vincent's voice. He flashed a light through the door and approached her spot. "You! Where were you! He's gone, he's gone, it's your job to stop this stuff!" She kicked at his shins. "I'm sorry..." She began to sob again. Vincent knelt by her and offered his hand. "It's ok, we'll find him. Follow me." He said. She sniffed and cleaned her face as best she could.

They slowly made their way through the halls, checking every inch for any sign of Alex. "What are you even doing here, I thought Scott worked nights?" She asked, checking under each table for any scrap of evidence. Vincent handed her the torch. "Switched shifts. Work keeping me focused, you know?" "Like, focused on anything special, or focused on not..." "I said you know, didn't I? Got to keep going." He looked around. "I'm going to head back to the office, maybe some security footage will help. Think you can check the other rooms yourself?" He tossed her the keys and headed off before she even replied.

It'd been some time. What was he doing? She began heading towards the office. A door. Staff only. Maybe...

Stairs. Cold. Pain.

"No."

Marie stared at the box. William was a sure fit for everything, but he'd need access to the security footage to delete any evidence, and he had no idea who Marie was. She'd stumbled on Alex's body, sure, but how would he have known she was there if he was just popping in to murder a child then leaving again. He'd have to have been in the building, in the office to watch where she went. "No." He'd have to be working in the pizzeria, with an alias as a cover. "No." He would have to have been someone that she trusted, and who trusted her as much. "No. No that's ridiculous."

Michael used to call Vincent 'dad'. How did he know how to help Mangle and Dawn? Scott always seemed like Vince was his superior when he wasn't. He could always somehow buy her all sorts of nice things on pittance pay. Henry's kids own the place, yet they let Vincent get away with things anyone else could be fired on the spot for. He could mimic voices so well, was it such a stretch to say is 'real' voice was a fake too? Things she'd never questioned before suddenly seemed to pile up. He first talked about doing everything themselves, keeping the police and the victim's families as far away as possible. But he would never hurt her, he cared about her, he was her best friend.

Then, without her meaning to, the bottom of the box tumbled to the floor, the top still stuck in Marie's grip. The arcade machines flashed violently as a group of masks resembling the cast's old animal heads appeared, much like her own. They fizzled into small balls of light, then vanished. A message appeared on one of the cabinet screens. 'Give gift', it read. 'Give life', it read. Marie let the lid join the rest of the box on the floor. The screens went black again and left her in the dark.

"Oh no."

[noradarhkpalmer]

A PSA some of y’all might not like

I didn’t watch the latest episode of Legends of Tomorrow. And if you follow my blog and know my interests you’re probably like MARISA WHAT WHY. And I probably won’t. And I’m just gonna get real with y’all.

Pornography addiction and porn isn’t just something the church uses to shame people into sexual purity. It’s a global issue now beyond the church that affects real people behind those cameras and has been linked to sex trafficking and sexual abuse countless times. I’m not here to give you all of those stats (but could probably point you in the right direction if you’re curious.) I think a lot of people on here especially with the great tumblr purge are like “porn is bad!” But have never struggled with it.

So what I am instead doing is coming on here to talk about why I personally am not watching this Legends episode. Because this isn’t a petty boycott or some prudish move (despite the fact that I do hold Christian values). No it’s because I’m going to tell you about the psychological damage a pornography addiction I have had since the age of 9 has done to me.

That’s right folks I wasn’t even in double digits before I saw porn for the first time. And we’re going to for the moment, explicitly distinguish between an intimate scene in a movie or show and literally logging onto the World Wide Web to watch an adult film.

Because that’s what I did. Some dumb kid in my 6th grade class was talking about basically “YouTube but for porn” and I was intrigued. What I didn’t realize is how it would completely destroy how I would view relationships, male/female friendships, and severely stunt my coming into my own healthy sexuality. Realizing that sex is not inherently a bad thing. But it’s also a lot more complicated than body parts fitting together.

Every movie where people start relationships with the intent of “casual sex” or “fwb” always ends up with them either getting together or going through a horrible breakup? Why is that? Because it’s just more complicated than body parts fitting together. And now, at almost 23, my brain is still struggling to rewire all the parts of my brain that porn nearly destroyed. So to see people having these wild sex fever dreams, it’s extremely distressing, if not triggering, because my brain just *can’t* tell the difference between an intimate scene on television and a porn video.

I’m still learning what my brain can and can’t tell the difference between. I understand that the whole point of the episode was to let people act on their true desire but I think in doing so, it missed the point and went straight past sexual freedom and straight into carnal hedonism which is nearly psychologically damaging as watching porn.

Obviously, I believe it’s different for everyone, but just to be safe, to save others the sleepless night I had, if you haven’t seen the latest episode of Legends and have struggled with something similar (even a sex addiction yourself) I’d maybe skip this one.

[feynavaley]

Hetalia Fanfiction – Beyond the Breaking Point Ch 2

Summary: Caught between a rebellious teen fighting for his independence and an older brother struggling to be a parent, Matthew somatizes. Not drawing attention to his fake ailments seems the best way not to further stress the already precarious situation – but when Matthew takes his resolution a bit too far, all their lives are sent into a tailspin. (Human AU; ACE Family)

The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app. I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)

AO3 | FFN | First | Next | List

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Chapter Two

The mattress under Matthew’s body was oddly hard. Something cold was pressed against his back and seeped into his pyjama top in wet, unpleasant patches.

Is this a joke from Al?

Matthew whimpered, tossing his head to a side. He was surprised to find a gloved hand touching his face. And, along with the hand, came a concerned voice that slowly started making sense above the ringing in his ears.

“Matthew? Matthew, can you hear me? Come on, Matthew…”

“Oh my God, he’s not dead. Oh, thank goodness.”

Matthew’s hazy brain finally recognized the first voice as belonging to Tolys.

What the…

He pried his eyes open. After a couple of blinks, the array of helmet-cased faces hovering over him lost its blurred edges. The closest one was Tolys, with terror glimmering in his eyes and his brow furrowed in concern.

“Am I dreaming?” Matthew wondered out loud in a weak voice, voicing the only explanation that could excuse the presence of his teammates around his bed.

“Man, he’s fucking delusional. For God’s sake, somebody needs to call an ambulance. I don’t care if we get in trouble, there’s something wrong with him!”

At Mikkel’s ominous words, the memories slammed against Matthew with the force of the waterfall. He gasped, his eyes widening as he tried to jerk up. Tolys’s hands pressed against his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Matthew! Don’t to get up! You fainted like that, you might be seriously hurt…”

Matthew shook his head. Tolys’s plea had suddenly made him aware of an uncomfortable throbbing in his lower abdomen, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony he remembered. It didn’t feel any worse than a painful bruise.

“N—no, I’m fine. Really, I am. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Matthew pushed Tolys’s hands away and sat up, schooling his features in determination as he looked at the boys surrounding him.

“Man, you just fainted,” Mikkel noted at his lefts, shifting on his skates. “This isn’t exactly the definition of ‘fine’.”

Before Matthew could even open his mouth to protest, Ivan’s voice followed Mikkel’s one.

“He’s right, Matthew. And I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I thought you would move away.”

Ivan was the only one standing a bit to the side, closer to the edge of the rink. He had taken off his helmet, putting on display his features, soft with regret. A hot wave of shame crept up over Matthew.

“It’s fine,” he murmured with a small shake of his head, “It’s my fault, I should have paid more attention. I was just… I hadn’t had lunch and I was feeling quite dizzy. You didn’t even hit me that hard, really, it’s nothing!”

The abated pain was undeniable proof of Matthew’s words. It was almost as if his entire body had needed a complete shut-down to rewire and start behaving normally again, without faking any pain. Matthew couldn’t believe he had been so pathetic…

“You did look a bit off the game when you got on the ice,” Lukas mused.

“But you still fainted,” Tolys remarked. In spite of having straightened up to give Matthew some space, he was still kneeling next to him, his hands hovering close as if ready to catch him. “This isn’t something to take lightly, you really need to get checked up…”

Several people nodded. Panic rose from Matthew’s chest to his throat, squeezing it an iron grip. An ambulance would mean being taken to the hospital, where his guardian would have to be notified.

Arthur.

The thought of his brother’s name brought along the recollection of his hollow face, of the exhaustion ebbing the light in his eyes. Arthur would be beside himself with concern, and it was the last thing he needed. Not over something so stupid that entirely depended on Matthew being a whiny kid who couldn’t control himself, especially.

He looked around, desperately trying to spot somebody who could support his cause… and with sudden clarity, the solution sparked inside his brain.

“Vasovagal syncope,” he blurted out.

The expressions around him shifted from concern to confusion.

“Vaso— what?” Mikkel voiced out the shared question.

“Vasovagal syncope. It’s a nervous response that makes your blood pressure suddenly drop, and you faint. It can be triggered by many things… sudden pain being one of them. It doesn’t even need to be such a severe pain, it just…” Matthew shrugged, struggling to keep his head high. The embarrassment wasn’t feigned, only the cause was. “It first happened after I twisted my ankle, and I just… passed out right there and then, without any warning. Arthur got a huge scare and brought me to the ER, but the doctor said it was that. Nothing serious. But, he also said it might happen again.”

At least, that was what Matthew had understood form Felicia’s explanation, who was the one who had fainted after twisting her ankle the previous spring. Matthew should probably feel bad. He remembered the concern clawing at his insides as he stared at Felicia’s unnaturally wan face, how an even more intense reflection of his own emotions had been echoed in Lovino’s features… in the end, the accident had cast a gloomy shadow over everybody’s day. At the moment, however, all Matthew could feel was mind-numbing gratitude for the perfect excuse it had offered him.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that!” Eduard commented with a nod.

“Is it truly nothing serious, then?” Ivan asked, a timid glimmer of hope gleaming in his violet eyes and softening his features.

Matthew nodded and offered his teammates the most confident smile he could muster.

“Yeah. Just a stupid nervous reaction. I mean, it did hurt, but not to the point of something serious. I just feel a bit sore, now, but I’m fine. I’m really sorry for making you worry like that…”

“The way you cried, though…” Mikkel muttered with a shake of his head, but Matthew could read the doubt in his features, just like he could clearly see how relief was starting to wash away the tension from many faces around him.

He knew he had them. He cracked a small, sheepish grin and ran a hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Don’t you cry when you stub your toe, too? Besides, I think it was mostly the surprise. There’s no need to call an ambulance over something like this, really. We can just keep practising, no need to waste time over this. I’m fine.”

To offer a concrete proof of his words, Matthew rose to his feet. His abdomen answered with a spike of pain, but it was bearable and soon faded to a dull throbbing.

Tolys stood up next to him.

“I really think you should get checked up,” he muttered, but his voice lacked resolution.

The team was using the ice rink without the coach being present, which was a clean break of the safety rules. If something happened, there was a high chance of everybody getting in trouble, and the consequences would be even more severe for the seniors.

“I’m fine,” Matthew reassured for the umpteenth time.

“Okay, we won’t call an ambulance,” Ivan decided, “But you aren’t getting back on the rink, Matthew. You still got hurt, and your head just isn’t in the game. You should just get a shower and go home, or you can stay and watch the rest of the practice, if you want. Just, no more playing.”

Matthew answered with an eager nod. Even the twinge of shame at the reproach couldn’t curb the relief that flooded him, washing away the tension. While not in severe pain anymore, he was thoroughly exhausted; his limbs felt heavy and he was lightheaded and sluggish from the prolonged lack of food. For once, he didn’t mind not playing.

“At least let me check your stomach,” Tolys pleaded as he followed Matthew out of the rink.

“It’s fine!” Matthew hissed, wrapping his arms around himself.

Tolys froze. At the stricken expression that warped his features, a pang of guilt twisted Matthew’s stomach, but he bit down the urge to apologize. The outburst had served its purpose, reminding Tolys of the reason Matthew didn’t like people seeing his naked torso. Tolys didn’t insist anymore, he was silent and expressionless as he followed Matthew to the changing room.

Matthew was aware that Tolys was more stubborn than people gave him credit for. He wasn’t surprised when, upon getting out of the shower, he caught him typing on the phone, with his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Matthew could bet the recipient of the message was Alfred.

He smiled inwardly. He was privy of a piece of information Tolys must have missed: after the last argument, Arthur had taken away Alfred’s phone and turned it off. Neither Alfred nor Arthur were going to know anything about the embarrassing episode for at least a couple of days. By then, Matthew would have been able to tell his own version and find a way to prevent them from worrying.

When Tolys went back to the team to join the training, Matthew climbed up on the bleachers, where he spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between doing his homework and catching glimpses of the team. For how much he regretted not taking part in the practice, seeing his teammates’ undeniable competence quelled down Matthew’s concerns and let him able to relax a bit. The match was going to be hard, but they would make a worthy opponent. In spite of Matthew’s mishaps, there was one part of his life that wasn’t in shambles yet.

At the end of the afternoon, the dull throbbing in Matthew’s abdomen had increased – but he had taken a hockey stick wielded by Ivan to the stomach, after all. The bruise was probably quite deep, Matthew should have expected it to give him some trouble. Besides, hurting more some hours after having been inflicted was normal for a bad bruise, and it wasn’t unbearable, yet. Could real pain be the answer Matthew needed to get rid of the shameful fake ones that often plagued him? It sounded odd, but worth investigating further.

Or maybe, not even that episode had been enough to let Matthew get a grip of himself. By the time he was in front of his house, the pain had increased to a bothersome level and he was feeling nauseous again. He wasn’t sure he would be able to eat supper, and that was shaping up to be a problem with the antibiotic… missing three times in a row was starting to look a bit too daring, even for Matthew’s standards. Matthew’s stomach dropped at the mere thought, but he knew that he had no alternative: he was going to have to tell Arthur.

He was still mulling over the best way to present the issue without making it sound too concerning when he opened the front door.

He wasn’t prepared for the tornado that hit him.

Matthew froze, paralyzed by the screams. He had forgotten that Alfred would be home, and, from the sound of it, something had sparked a big argument.

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to cross the doorway and dive into the storm. His stomach coiled painfully on itself, begging for him to double over.

Matthew knew what he had to do. He should walk past the living room, ignore everything and take refuge into the bedroom, where he could curl on the bed and drown out the sounds with a pair of earbuds and some music. He couldn’t stop his brain from decoding the sounds into words as he walked past the living room, however.

“—Why can’t you just accept that this isn’t what I want to do, Arthur? Why can’t you? I know that I could get good grades and go to university and everything, I know that I’m good enough, but maybe, I just don’t want to! I don’t want to waste the best years of my life getting stale as I sit at a desk, accomplishing nothing!”

“Alfred, that’s not—”

“I want to get out in the open, to do something that matters! School doesn’t. I’ll become a football player, I love doing it, and then I’ll be an inspiration to countless children. I’ll also be rich, do you know how many people I’ll be able to help, then? And I’ll be doing all that using my own money the way I want, nobody will be able to tell me where to stop and what to do! And what does studying matter, in all this? Not. A. Fucking. Thing. I don’t have to do school! Just let me go on with my life and play, I’ll show you what I can do!”

Matthew knew that he shouldn’t have, but his curiosity got the best of him. He peeked into the living room just in time to see Arthur slam Alfred’s binder against the table in frustration.

“Goddamnit Alfred, why can’t you use your brain and think, for once? Can’t you see how many holes are in your plan? You’re gifted with a great intelligence, just use it! What if it all goes wrong? If you don’t become famous as a football player, you’ll be left with nothing! If you just studied, you—”

Alfred stomped his feet, his clenched fists quivering.

“That’s why I need to train! If I train, I’ll be good enough to get taken into a famous team, and you know it far too well! But nooo, you can’t accept that anybody would choose anything different than a boring, mundane job, so you raise all this Hell over missing a couple of days of school for a football camp!”

“If your grades—”

“Some teammates of mine have far worse grades, but I don’t see any of their parents complaining! They’re all going, this isn’t the issue! The issue is that you have to decide what I can do with my life, and I’m tired of it, do you hear me?! I’m sick and tired of this!”

Matthew wasn’t unfamiliar with his brother being angry. He had already seen his red face, his chest heaving for breath. What he had never seen, however, was the unabated hate shining darkly in his eyes, the cruel sneer distorting his features. Matthew found himself paralyzed, the breath blocked in his chest.

“You’re not my father, Arthur! You’ll never be. You aren’t even my real brother, you’re just my stepbrother! You’re nothing to me! What right do you have to have any say in my life? None. You have no right! You’re just pretending to be my father, and doing quite a shitty job at it! Aunt Marianne was right. We should have never stayed with you!”

Arthur didn’t stop Alfred when he whirled around and stomped away, bristling with rage. His face was milky white, his eyes wide and heartbroken.

Matthew instinctively took a step back as Alfred walked past him without acknowledging his presence, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Arthur’s grief-stricken face. The wrongness of the entire vision felt like being stomped on the chest. His head was spinning, he wanted to be sick.

When Arthur turned, exhaling a shuddering breath that sounded painfully similar to a sob, Matthew wasn’t quick enough to pretend he hadn’t listened.

“Oh! Matthew.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair in a feeble attempt at pretending confidence. Matthew couldn’t miss the way his arm was shaking slightly, making his own stomach knot in turn.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to this. But don’t worry, all right? Your brother is just… going through a rough patch. He’ll come around, with time.”

Arthur’s shaky smile was as fake as his words.

Matthew wanted to scream. It had been months, when would Alfred ‘come around’? Never, if something didn’t change drastically. Matthew wanted to shake Arthur until he admitted it, but it wasn’t Arthur’s fault. In truth, he was suffering even more than Matthew himself.

He fought back the urge to burst into tears and answered with a nod.

“Y—yeah. He will. Soon, I hope.”

“So do I.” Arthur’s tired smile and grey skin spelt out all his exhaustion even louder than his words did. “But never mind him, how was your day? Ready for your big match?”

In spite of all the concern weighting on his shoulders, Arthur had remembered that Matthew had an important hockey match. How could Matthew be okay with worrying him even further?

He forced himself to ignore the painful stabs to his stomach and nod. He almost felt like a wooden puppet who could only perform a single movement, with all that nodding against his stiff muscles.

“We’re doing great!” The enthusiasm he tried to inject into his words sounded fake, too weak. “But it was quite tiring. I… if it’s all right, I’ll just take my antibiotic and go to bed. It’s already half past seven, and I don’t need to have dinner, Iryna brought a cake to cheer us up…”

Guilt churned in Matthew’s stomach for the lie, increasing the pain to an almost unbearable level, but the genuine tenderness in Arthur’s tired eyes made it worth it.

“All right. Just do remember to take your antibiotic, poppet. And get some rest, you’ve been working hard. You deserve it.”

Matthew hesitated a moment at the door, fidgeting on his feet.

“I love you, Arthur,” he whispered in the end, then swiftly walked away without waiting for an answer.

He did love Arthur, that much was true. But he also loved Alfred just as much. Why couldn’t they all just get along?

To make matters worse, the scorching stabs of pain to his stomach were increasing in frequency; Matthew was clammy and lightheaded. Once again, his stupid body rebelling against the stressful situation. He could barely change into his pyjamas and dive under the pile of blankets before he needed to curl up on himself. He hugged his stomach, trying to breathe through the increasing bursts of agony.

Matthew felt like crying. He was tired of the fighting, of how mean Alfred always was to Arthur.

Alfred was so sure that he had everything figured out, but in truth, he didn’t know anything. Matthew almost wanted to laugh at the notion that he would have been better off with Tante Marianne. Maybe, Alfred should have taken a moment to wonder why their cousin Francis, in spite of loving his birth country, had almost run away from France just after becoming of age. Alfred hardly knew Marianne and Pierre at all, unlike Matthew. Matthew was aware that Oncle Pierre’s high-salary and prestigious job meant he spent most of his time travelling around the world, leaving his son’s upbringing completely in his wife’s hands. Matthew had also seen the way his sophisticated and charming Tante Marianne used to treat Francis. No more than an accessory, a pretty doll to display proudly. Alfred wouldn’t have lasted a week before smuggling himself back to America and to Arthur, Matthew was sure of that.

At the same time, it was also true that Arthur was often too hard with Alfred, too rigid to find a middle ground. Matthew knew that Arthur was very young and just trying his best, and he didn’t blame him for it. That didn’t stop him from wishing Arthur would let go of his pride and admit he couldn’t do everything on his own. Alfred generally listened to Francis, for example, but Arthur was always too reluctant to enlist his help.

And Matthew was too damn coward to let his voice be heard and suggest a solution, and he ended up dealing with a body that was just as much coward and pathetically needy. Served him right.

In addition to the searing pain, a spell of cold had taken Matthew into its grip and seeped into his bones, making him shiver incessantly. He could only curl up tighter on himself and pray to fall asleep, but the knives twisting in his abdomen kept bringing him back to the brink of consciousness.

Sometime later, the door was slammed open and heavy steps preceded the thump of Alfred’s body flopping down on his own mattress and the frame creaking under the weight. He didn’t offer a single word to Matthew.

The fire raging in Matthew’s stomach grew, paralyzing him in a haze of agony. It only got worse as the hours went by.

******

Alfred had always needed less sleep than a common person. Therefore, if Arthur forced him to go to bed at eleven, Alfred would be awake by four the following morning. That was just how it worked. His father had understood it perfectly, but Arthur just didn’t seem to be able to wrap his mind around it. Alfred could have lingered in bed for another couple of hours, but he didn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction. The exact moment his eyes snapped open, he got up and moved to the living room.

Arthur had taken away his phone, his laptop, the PS4, and gotten as far as unplugging the TV and taking one of the cables into his own room the previous evening, but that didn’t mean Alfred was going to cave in and waste time doing homework. Instead, he flopped down on the sofa with a sandwich in his right hand and a book in the other.

Arthur hadn’t even forbidden him to read, after all. Alfred couldn’t wait to see the livid face when his older stepbrother would realize he had been, once again, outsmarted.

About two hours and a half later, the shuffled footsteps heading towards the living room made Alfred’s nerves tighten with tension, his blood sing at the prospect of a fight.

The steps halted at the door.

Alfred tensed on the sofa, waiting for the scolding.

Only a soft sight came. A moment later, the steps retreated from the living room.

Alfred raised his head just in time to see Arthur’s frame disappear into the kitchen. He couldn’t believe there had been no protest.

I finally showed him who’s the boss around.

Alfred wanted to believe that, in spite of the corner of his mind that made him notice how Arthur's shoulders were hunched over in exhaustion, even if it was just the beginning of the day. He was most likely just too drained to pick a fight. Alfred swallowed down the small trickle of guilt generated by the thought and forcefully directed his concentration back to the book in his hands, a collection of Asimov’s works.

Alfred had picked it only because it was the one closest to him, finding himself quite engrossed in it had been a pleasant surprise. Asimov was an excellent writer, just like Matthew had told him many times. Alfred made a mental note to thank his younger brother.

A moment later, he recalled that they weren’t on speaking terms.

This time, the twinge of guilt that gripped his stomach was more intense.

Matthew was always siding with Arthur, that much was true, and it irritated Alfred to no end. At the same time, Matthew was also merely fourteen years old. No more than a kid. A kid who had had to deal with a childhood of emotional neglect (now that he was older, Alfred was sure that he could give that name to their natural mother’s unintentional – but not less damaging – treatment of Matthew), precarious health, and loss. Moreover, Matthew had never connected with Arthur as smoothly as Alfred had used to, it was only natural for him to try and gather some crumbles of affection. No matter how much Alfred didn’t like it. Of course, the issue would be completely solved if Matthew started realizing that Alfred was the only older person he could truly rely on – but, admittedly, Alfred snapping at him wasn’t going to help with that.

Alfred squashed down the guilt with a resolution to be more patient with his younger brother, and he focused again on the fictional story to prevent his brain from formulating other disturbing thoughts. Arthur’s voice calling his name some time later caught him by surprise, violently jerking him back to reality.

“What?” he asked, not having quite had the time to harden his voice.

For once, Arthur didn’t seem intentioned to scold him. He was just standing at the door, bundled in a trench coat and with violet shadows painfully evident under his eyes, so tired-looking that the normally vibrant green looked dull.

“I have to go out now, I have a meeting for a group project.”

“It’s a quarter past seven, but I have to be at the campus by eight,” he added in answer to Alfred’s visible confusion.

Alfred forced his features to toughen in indifference.

“Fine. We won’t die by staying alone for just a couple of hours, no need to fret.”

A weary sigh seeped through Arthur’s lips.

“That’s not… I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself. I just wanted to ask you to wake Matthew up at half past seven, he looked quite exhausted yesterday. I’m not sure he would wake up on his own.”

Alfred internally rolled his eyes. He agreed on Arthur’s estimation of Matthew’s energies, and that was exactly why he wasn’t going to carry out the request. It was Saturday, Matthew definitely deserved a morning of rest. Alfred couldn’t believe that Arthur had never noticed how frazzled their little brother looked, how he was threatening to fall apart under all the responsibilities and expectations Arthur kept piling up on his shoulders. (The fact that Alfred shared the bedroom with Matthew and, because of that, saw him in his most vulnerable moments, didn’t matter. Arthur should have noticed.) Another reason why Arthur was a far cry from an adequate caretaker.

“Yeah, sure,” Alfred answered anyway, shrugging. For the time being, he was more eager to see how the book ended than to get into a fight.

“This is important, Alfred. Please don’t—”

“I said I’ll do it! Stop treating me like a toddler!”

Arthur sighed again – a soft, weary sound that made Alfred’s nerves tremble with disdain.

“I trust you with this, then,” Arthur said immediately after, much to Alfred’s surprise. “I probably won’t be home before eleven or so.”

With that, Arthur turned and walked away from the living room.

Alfred stared at his back for a moment before shaking himself. Arthur being so accommodating had surprised him, but he didn’t want to dwell on that (on how much of it was caused by Arthur being so exhausted that he could afford to spare energy only for immediately pressing matters). He went back to reading his book, letting the words take him by hand and lead him away from reality and to a soothing yet exciting world that kept Alfred in its clutches for so long that he was barely aware of the way the minutes bled into hours.

When the door creaked open, Alfred took conscience of how much time had passed with a twinge of surprise. He had barely moved from his position.

“Alfred!” Arthur called from the doorway, “Did you wake up Matthew?”

Alfred’s stomach summersaulted at the realization. He had been intentioned to wake up his brother before Arthur came home, somewhere around ten, but it had completely slipped out of his mind. Now, he could only own up to it.

Squaring his shoulders, Alfred took a deep breath to steady himself and got up.

“No, I didn’t,” he said with confidence as he walked the length of the corridor towards Arthur.

A dismayed grimace crossed Arthur’s features.

“What do you mean you didn’t? Alfred, I—”

“For God’s sake, give the kid a rest, will you? He has been running himself ragged since he began high school, can’t you see it? It’s Saturday, he deserves to sleep in for once in his life!”

Arthur didn’t seem moved. On the contrary, his feature tightened in annoyance before he ran a hand through his hair, huffing.

“And, pray tell, when exactly did I say that you needed to make him get up at half past seven? You just needed to wake him up, he could go back to sleep afterwards. In fact, I would have encouraged so.”

Arthur’s words didn’t make any sense. Alfred’s features must have shown his puzzlement, because Arthur rolled his eyes and emitted an exasperated sigh.

“The antibiotic, Alfred,” he explained in a clipped voice, “The prophylactic dose of antibiotic your brother has to take every twelve hours since his spleen has been removed and, with his immune system weaker to begin with, he risks getting mortally ill and dying.”

Alfred stared at his stepbrother, his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. Hot shame crawled up his stomach.

“But I guess this was less important than your rebellious spirit, wasn’t it?” Arthur’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I see it now. Your little brother’s life is less important than a childish tantrum. I thought you were more mature than this, at least, but I see that I was severely mistaken…”

Arthur’s words stung worse than a physical slap could have. Alfred wanted to scream that he hadn’t wanted that, he wanted to be angry at Arthur – and, at the same time, he couldn’t believe he had missed something so vital.

Arthur trying to walk past him brought him back to his senses. His hand automatically shot out to grab his stepbrother’s arm.

“Where are you going?”

Alfred failed to hide a slight trembling in his voice.

Arthur’s forehead was creased in anger, but the shadows under his eyes made him look more dejected than annoyed.

“Where do you think I’m going? I need to wake up Matthew, it has already been more than three hours…”

Arthur tried to swag Alfred’s hand away, but he didn’t budge.

“I’ll go wake up Matthew.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, a spark of anger surging in his eyes, but Alfred was quicker.

“Listen. I fucked up, I know. And I’m sorry, okay?” The admission was like acid in Alfred’s mouth, but he knew that it was needed, if he wanted to prove to Arthur that he was mature enough. “But, if you go to wake up Matthew like that, he’ll see how much you’re stressing over this and he’ll read it as you being angry at him. He’ll just feel guilty and awful and it will add more stress. So, let me do this.”

Alfred couldn’t help the contempt from seeping into his voice at the end of the speech. He hadn’t exactly meant to do that, but he knew that he was right.

Arthur seemed to recognize the truth in Alfred’s words as well. He sagged in his grip and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he talked, his voice was once again controlled.

“All right. Just be kind to him.”

Alfred ignored the bitterness in Arthur’s last remark as he turned and walked away. He wanted to retort that he was always nice to Matthew, that he wasn’t the one stressing their younger brother, but a rational corner of his brain couldn’t help but whisper maliciously that Arthur did have a point. And, for how much Alfred claimed he was taking care of Matthew better than Arthur, he was the one who had forgotten such a vital issue.

The admission only made anger boil hotter in his chest. He gritted his teeth and kept clenching and unclenching his fists as he quickened his pace, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling unpleasantly clawing at his insides.

If Matthew sees me like this, he’ll be even more stressed.

Sobered up by the realization, Alfred waited a couple of moments in front of the bedroom’s door, forcing himself to take deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed down. Only then, he opened the door and stepped in silently.

The sight of the lump of blankets that hid his brother’s frame brought a smile to Alfred’s face from the sheer cuteness of it.

His lips straightened into a thin line the moment he realized that the lump was trembling.

Is he having a nightmare?

“Mattie, wake up.”

Alfred swiftly strode to his brother, a pang of concern surging in his stomach when no answer met his words.

“Mattie?”

Alfred placed a knee on his brother’s mattress and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.

“Come on, Mattie, wake up. It’s all right, you’re probably just having a bad dream.”

A broken sound between a sob and a whimper was the only answer.

Frowning, Alfred peeled the blankets away from Matthew’s face as he hunched over him to have a better look.

His heart missed a beat.

Matthew’s face was stark white, the delicate features tightened in unmistakable agony. His breaths were ragged and uneven, seeping out of his bloodless lips in a broken, rushed symphony.

“Matthew!”

There was no reaction to Alfred’s panicked voice. With his pulse racing, he tore off the blankets to find his little brother huddled on himself, with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen, the knuckles gripping his pyjama top white.

“Mattie, what’s wrong?” Alfred pleaded, “Come on, Mattie, talk to me!”

His shaking hands found a grip around his brother’s shoulders to turn him over and allow Alfred to have a better look.

Matthew moaned at the movement, his ragged breaths quickening. Then, Alfred tried to uncurl Matthew’s legs – and an inhuman, agonized shriek erupted from his throat.

Alfred jumped away as if he had been scalded, avoiding just in time to get in the way of Matthew vomiting over the edge of the bed. The blood pounding in his ears obscured his vision for a moment.

I’m only three hours late. Only three hours, it can’t be…

But Matthew was curled up on himself on the edge of the bed, at that point earnestly sobbing, with the sheets around him soiled with vomit.

Alfred ignored the smell and sprang to his brother’s side, scolding himself for that moment of hesitation.

“Matthew. Matthew, come on, tell me what’s wrong!”

He hated himself for how shaky his voice came out, closer to a plea than an order, but at that point, Alfred could hardly think straight. The fingers tapping his brother’s clammy cheek were singed by the prickling heat of a raging fever.

Three hours.

Such a short amount of time, but it had been enough. Something was so horribly wrong with Matthew, his waxen features were contorted in agony, the breaths coming out of his lips harsh and ragged, as if he wasn’t getting enough air.

Alfred knew that he had to do something, but the terror that had flooded his entire being was acting as a barrier between his brain and any rational thought. All he could do was to take his brother’s clammy face into his hands, stare into his glassy and unseeing eyes as he pleaded in a shaky voice for him to answer, but even the slurred words that finally came out of Matthew’s lips were covered by the roar in Alfred’s own ears.

Alfred was abruptly brought back to reality when the door slammed open.

He instinctively whirled around, his widened eyes meeting a pair of equally scared green ones. Finally, Alfred’s brain registered that the sounds he had been ignoring at the corners of his perceptions were Arthur’s yelling for an answer and his footsteps rushing closer. He had to have heard Matthew’s wail, the entire street probably had.

At that moment, no sight was more welcome than Arthur’s face, the concern shining in his features already dimming as they hardened in determination. The argument that had occurred only some moments earlier seemed to belong to a different lifetime.

“Arthur.” Alfred’s voice was nothing but a weak, trembling plead. “Arthur, there’s something really wrong with Matthew. Please, help!”

Alfred swiftly moved to a side to leave his older brother some space to examine Matthew, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy’s unnaturally pale face.

Alfred prided himself in being mature and independent, but Arthur was the one who had always had Matthew’s health in mind. Arthur was the one who took the child’s hands into his own, who ran his fingers through the blond hair as he called Matthew’s name, somehow managing to keep his voice firm.

Alfred could just stand there, paralyzed, as all his world crumbled around him, every detail in front his eyes screaming how wrong he had been.

******

All Matthew knew was agony. A knife was tearing him apart from the inside, stabbing repeatedly and twisting, acid was eating him up.

Matthew wanted to call for help, but the pain squeezed his lungs, he could only sob.

Then, he wasn’t alone anymore. There were hands on his face, fingers threading through his hair. Voices around him.

“…Mattie, please, Mattie…”

“…phone first. Get me the phone. And then a thermometer, quick!”

Matthew confused brain recognized them as belonging to his older brothers, even if most of the words were too far away for him to comprehend them, muffled by a sea of pain.

He wanted to cry in relief and to plead them to make the pain stop.

But, at the same time, Arthur’s rough fingers against his neck brought with them the faint recollection of other fingers, slender and clammy with sweat, that had lingered on Matthew’s neck on a summer’s afternoon, when he was kneeling in front of a trashcan at the park.

Arthur’s tender voice morphed into a higher, feminine timbre that sent shivers running down Matthew’s back. He could still feel Allyson’s hot breath blowing against his neck.

“Oh, what do we have here, Mattie? An upset tummy because your big brothers are fighting? You know what this means, Mattie-kins? That we’re just the same, you and I. You’re trying to be a little goody-two-shoes, but your body is complaining because it wants to get Big Brother’s attention. Embrace it, Mattie-kins. No matter what you pretend, you’re just a little attention whore.”

Allyson’s words had been with Matthew since them, carefully tucked into a corner of his mind. His greatest fear and his greatest push. He had done everything he could to prove Allyson wrong, he had always done his best to hide the pain and not let his true nature out in the open.

And now, it was all gone. Matthew’s body, his instincts, everything pleaded for his brothers’ help, their voices and touches brought small seeds of comfort through the haze of agony. Matthew wanted to cling to them.

But the recollection of Allyson’s mocking laugh rose above everything else, drowning all of Matthew’s perceptions. He had finally lost the battle with his body, and this time, he was the one who had ruined everything for his family.

(word count: 6,494 words)

———

Notes:

Hetalia Human Names [x] 

Allyson Jones is 2p Nyo America;

Felicia is Nyo Italy;

I’m not a doctor, so there might be inaccuracies, in spite of my research;

Moreover, there are some misconceptions due to the narrators’ erraneous views.

Thanks a lot to the people who liked the previous chapter, and a special thanks to @aph-fanficchallenges and @nordicsawesome for reblogging it! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter as well :)

[myectjourney]

ECT Evaluation & current my medication list (2/28/2018)

This post will go over the questions asked during my evaluation and parts of the discussion.

Duration of appointment: 1 hour 30 minutes (hour and a half)

*** TW suicide/self harm mention/questions regarding suicide/self harm. TW for detailed medical procdures and sezuires***

Current Medication List:

Lithium (For depression. 2nd time around with no results. After this evaluation, I quit.)

Clonazepam (For anxiety and panic attacks)

Propranolol  (For anxiety)

Zolpidem (For insomnia)

Evaluation (first appointment):

Doctor introduces herself.

We go over my intake form (which I filled out 2 weeks before my appointment. It included an extensive questionnaire.)

I was upfront about my diagnoses and that I was interested in ECT not TMS because ECT has a history of being more effective despite of there being more side effects. She did listen to this and didn’t bring up TMS at all during the evaluation.

She asked about my prior history with therapy. How long have I been in therapy and what for?

“Tell me about your life. How do you spend your days?”

I talked about how my illnesses have been getting progressively worse and how different drugs I’ve taken have effected this because of bad reactions.

I explained that I have had a lot of breakdowns. I classify them as “psychotic breakdowns” not panic attacks because I felt they were different from when I have panic attacks. She asked me to clarify my word choices, just so she could get a better understanding of what I meant by that.

She asked “How often are these kinds of breakdowns are happening?”, “How long do they last?”, “Explain what your episodes are like.”, “What causes these episodes?”.

Talked about personality disorders. We talked about how I am suicidal and how long I’ve been this way.

Talked about how many times I’ve tried to commit suicide. “How did you try to commit suicide?”

Talked about past history with self harm. “When you cut yourself, were you intending to harm yourself for some relief or to bleed out and die?”, “What stopped you from dying?” I explained that people came to my aid or there were times where I stopped myself because of my own fear of death. Even though I longed for it, I also fear it. “How many times have you stopped yourself versus someone stopping you?”. Some point between asking about suicide and self harm, I was asked “Have you ever been hospitalized?”.

“How often do you have panic attacks?”, “What does a panic attack look like?”

“Have you ever heard voices that weren’t there or seen things that aren’t there?”

“How often do you see your therapist?”, “How long are your therapy sessions?” “In your current situation you are having disregulation episodes which you are calling ‘psychotic breaks’ that are happening sometimes daily, or at least one a week in which you are pulling your hair, screaming, being disassociate and during these episodes are you trying to kill yourself or saying you want to kill yourself?”

To my partner who was in the room with me (my request): “How often does she talk about suicide?”

“How many of your suicidal attempts or gestures are caused by social stressers or fear of rejection?”

“Do you get into conflicts often in your relationships with people?”

“Do you have a bit of a temper?”, “Do you lash out at people you love?”, “How often do you find yourself making suicidal statements to others?”

She asked about a situation that my therapist wrote in her notes regarding a past experience that set me off.

“Have you done additional therapy for your agoraphobia?” I explained that my therapist and I have tried to get me into DBT but my insurance won’t cover it so it was no dice. We talked about how my social anxiety has gotten worse and the agoraphobia has been more of a recent development with the progression of my social anxiety and traumatic experiences. I also talked about how I think I have Selective Mutism which is brought on primarily through PTSD attacks (when I am triggered) or under immense amounts of stress.

“How is your thinking and memory?”

“Have you held a job at any point?”

Talked about my family and abuse I suffered through them and my lack of contact with them.

Asked about my medical diagnosis. I informed her I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.

“Have you ever had a head injury, concussion, or seizure of any kind?” Nope.

“Any retinal detachments or metal implants in your face?” Nope.

“Any brain aneurysm, vascular clips in your head or neck, metal in your eyes, or pacemaker?” Nope.

“Any heart problems?” Not that I know of.

Confirmed where I was born and raised and who raised me (all questions answered on the intake form).

“Do you have any siblings?”

“How did you do in school?”, “What led to me not continuing my education?”

“Any religion?”, “Any military service?”, “Any legal problems?”

“How would you describe your mood today?”

We went over the meds I am currently on and my dosages. I told her that I won’t be on Lithium by the time we do the procedure. She said the lithium is less of a problem, I just need to be sure I don’t take it 2 days before we start the procedure. She was mostly concerned about the fact that almost all the meds I’m currently on are considered anti-seizure meds and a lot of them are highly addictive, especially the clonazepam and zolpidem. This is important because basically what ECT does is they induce seizures in the brain. This helps basically rewire your brain.

She informed me that LUCKILY they can reverse the effects of those 2 drugs with an antidote (pretty nifty) so they can get around that but she expressed concern that I might be “a little doped up”. I told her I was on a very low dose.

Talked about family history with mental illness. “Any one in your family commit suicide?” No. At least not that I’m aware of.

This is when we finally talked about diagnosis and treatment.

She said “Your diagnosis is relevant here because certain diagnosies respond better to ECT as compared to others. Based on your history, it seems like you have an expanding list of diagnosies and that can happen in psychiatry because they are checklist based and can be presented differently at different times. I think the over all picture is best captured by a personality disorder based on what you are telling me and that doesn’t mean you cant have ECT by any means but it does mean that there is a little more risk for you in a couple of ways. So people with a history with disassociation and a history of trauma, which very much goes with a personality disorder, have a harder time being put under repeatedly and hopelessness of ECT. It can be kind of re-traumatizing.”

She goes on to explain that there are cognitive side effects for people who have personality disorders (specifically similar to my symptoms), which can include something she called “Soap Opera” Amnesia where a patient will complete forget everything for a few days. It only has happened one in her experience but it was very scary for the person going through it and that patient did end up going to the hospital at some point. This wasn’t caused by the ECT though. Seizures do not cause this. This was basically psychosomatic; something this person developed as a result of the panic of being put under and having to go through that over and over again, hence why she disclosed this to me as someone with a personality disorder specifically issues with disassociation.  

She also explain that statistically, the effectiveness of ECT is a little lower for people with personality disorders versus those with just depression. It’s around 55% likely to be effective for people with personality disorders and around 87% likely to be effective for people who just have depression.

She said about a 3rd of people with just major depressive disorder that get ECT feel almost completely cured by it but with people with personality disorders, they might feel less suicidal and may be able to function better in day to day life but its way less likely to feel “cured” to that intensity.

We also talked about how she thinks I fit the description for BPD very much and that it looks different for different people. My favorite thing she said is that it doesn’t always look like “Girl Interrupted”. Luckily I already knew that and agreed with her on this matter. She talked about the stigma around it. Honestly, she was very understanding and knowledgeable (I mean, of course) but it was really nice to talk to someone who wasn’t bias about personality disorders.

Then we talked about the upsides and down sides of ECT in the most specific way we could.

Downsides being cognitive side effects, even if they are just doing the right side of my brain with pulses being as small as you can get and the dose being as low as possible, you can have cognitive slowing, feeling a little more spacey, attention is not “up to snuff”, and also short term memory problems. The most recent memories put in your brain are usually the ones that are effected first.

This can include the past couple week or months before the procedure.

During the course of ECT, 7-15 sometime 18 treatments, when youre having it 3-4 times a week, you might have trouble forming new memories.  It’s not that you won’t form any, just a little fuzzy.

All of things add up to a DRIVING RESTRICTION. They will not let you drive during the course of treatment. She said it doesn’t matter how you GET to the appointment but afterwards they will not allow you to take a cab/taxi, uber, lyft or by bus and you cannot drive yourself. You absolutely NEED SOMEONE TRUSTED/CLOSE TO YOU TO DRIVE YOU HOME.

ALSO, if you have a history of any heart problems, you are at risk of sudden death because when they induce the seizures, your blood pressure and heart rates goes up. For young healthy people, there is almost no risk of this happening.

There are the normal/common risk of anesthesia (Like waking up). They usually give you Brevital (which puts you to sleep) and Succinylcholine (to relax your muscles before the procedure). The muscle relaxant will stop your breathing but she said it’s nothing to worry about since they will be pumping air into your lungs manually via bag mask and will be closely monitoring you which luckily means no invasive breathing tube.Then they deliver the stimulus, which induces the seizure and then you slowly wake up after that. If the timing is wrong or the dosing is wrong, there is a SMALL but serious risk that you can wake up but still feel paralyzed. They monitor your heart rate and they try to make sure you are completely out beforehand but it’s still a risk.

The worst symptoms after the procedure is headaches and nausea, which they will usually give you medication for and usually is the worst after the first treatment.

You will have an IV in your hand, before you go in, the nurse will make sure you have not eaten or drank anything in 8 hours.

They will talk to you for a few minutes to make sure you are okay and know whats going on. During this time they will put the IV in and inform you if there is any changes they need to make with anesthesia, then they administer the anesthesia. They will then induce the seizure (they usually start with a right unilateral which means they just do the right side of your brain and can change it to a bilateral procedure which is both sides of the brain later in treatment if needed) and the way they tell if you have seizured is by:

1.) putting EEG leads on your head so they can see your brain waves and

2.) They use a blood pressure cuff as a tourniquet around your ankle to stop the muscle relaxant from going into your foot so they can see that foot have a seizure.

Afterwards, they roll you out to the recovery room where you come down from the anesthesia which takes about 20 minutes.

The medical work-up and requirements before you schedule the procedure is a signed document from your PCP (Primary Care Physician) which they fax over, bloodwork, pregnancy test, and an EKG test (they will need a physical copy of the EKG tracings).

-END OF APPOINTMENT-

I hope this is useful info for someone out there!

If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask.

[soniabigcheese]

Heading off to bed after an eventful day. Only managed a couple of hours sleep. Drove through a smog of foul smelling chemicals en route to the coast with sis in law and hubby. Witnessed a family be pooped on from a big height by a passing seagull. It made one hell of a mess I can tell you. Got home to discover that I'd managed to deface one of my pictures with scribbles all over the corner. I'd never do that unless it was a crappy one I wasn't happy with. And this one was my latest one of Gordon on horseback! The only logical conclusion is that I did it during my last 'episode' the other week. Holy crap, my brain was completely rewired briefly at that moment.