#drawing long hair deals physical damage to me but emotionally

[selfshipnojutsu]

✓ gucci coats

✓ too many belts

✓ hrnrgn sword

this is the power couple lapis needs and deserves

[ak47stylegirl]

No.20- Doctor’s Visit/ Check-up (centralising Scott and Alan, of course). Enjoy ;)

Anon, you should not have enabled me lol 😂 this fic took over my life for the last couple of days, and reached 7840 words!! 😅 So this fic is definitely a chapter fic, as it's just too big! 🤣😅

//Talking to myself// I'm not making this into an AU series, I'm not making this into an AU series, I'm not-Damn it! //done talking to herself// There may be some reappearances of this AU in the future😅

Also, I want to thank @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for listening to all my crazy rambling about this fic XD

I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter 😂 (Don't worry, this fic is completely written already, i just need to post the chapters, no long waits for this fic lol 😅)

---

Alan sighed heavily, staring out the car window as Scott pulled into the specialist section of the hospital car part.

Scott had parked Thunderbird one at a local airbase, not wanting to draw the unwanted attention that came with said Thunderbird.

And if the media somehow shows up? Oh boy, they would quickly learn what happens when you piss off Scott Tracy.

Scott, under no circumstances, wanted to deal with the media today.

The 7-year-old looked over at Scott, a miserable expression on his face. Alan was sickly pale, skin almost a light grey colour, which broke and bruised so easily.

Alan was also unhealthy skinny, having lost a whole lot of body fat in the years since he was diagnosed with this dreadful generic disease.

It's been a hard couple of years, with Alan's diagnosis and Dad’s…

It has been and still is unbelievably hard, Scott thought with a sorrow-filled expression, looking over at Alan in the back, secured in his car seat.

Alan whimpered softly, baby blue eyes moist.

Scott sighed sadly,

“I know you don’t like these appointments, sweetie..” Scott leaned over his chair, gently cupping Alan’s cheek, “I don’t enjoy them either, but….”

Alan closed his eyes, leaning into Scott’s hand, causing Scott’s heart to ache.

Because his baby brother, the child he had practically raised since Alan’s birth, should never have been this sick!

“But…” Scott’s voice wavered for a second, feeling the biggest urge to just pull Alan close and cry at the unfairness of it all. He had been telling the truth. These appointments weren't easy for him either.

They never got easier.

“But…I need you to be brave, okay?” Scott asked with a small comforting smile, “Can you do that for me?”

Alan blinked up at him, his face all scrunched up and eyes undeniably wet.

Scott’s gut twisted, getting a feeling that he may have a full-blown waterworks on his hands.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Alan’s shoulders dropped, and the kid nodded with a pout, still looking as miserable as ever.

“I’ll…I’ll try….” Alan mumbled weakly, still looking as miserable as ever.

Scott smiled softly, “That’s my good boy….”

Alan looked down at his chair restraints, and began to fiddle with them, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate with him.

It should be easy…But it wasn’t.

Alan tried weakly tugging on it, his bottom lip beginning to tremble. Alan tried to undo it again, but instead of it coming free, his wrist and fingers began to hurt.

While his wrist braces stopped him from doing any real damage, Alan really wasn’t supposed to be so rough with them or any of his limbs-

Why won’t they unbuckle already?! Isn’t anything easy for me anymore?!

“Oh, baby…”

Alan’s eyes widened as a much larger hand than his own, gently undid his restraints.

Alan looked up and found Scott smiling sadly down at him.

In the time Alan was struggling with his car chair, Scott had grabbed his satchel and walked all the way around to Alan’s side of the car.

Alan frowned, “I almost had it, Scotty….” Alan huffed with a grumpy pout, crossing his arms across his chest.

His arm braces made a scraping noise as they met each other.

Scott smiled fondly, “I’m sure you did, sweetheart, but it’s time to get out of the car, okay?” Scott ran his hand through Alan’s hair, smiling as Alan complains-

‘Hey! You’re messing up my hair!’

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop….” Scott chuckled softly, holding his hands up in surrender, “now come on, give me your hands...”

Alan dropped his pout, unable to stay mad at Scotty. Especially when, deep down, he was terrified of what this day entailed. This chronic disease had taken over his life, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

He didn’t recognise himself anymore…

Sometimes there were just days where he would crawl into one of his big brother’s arms and cry the day away.

Alan put his hands in Scott’s much bigger one, who took hold of them with a firm but gentle grip.

“Okay, be careful now….” Scott slowly guiding Alan out of the car seat, “one leg after the other, good, that’s it-“

Alan’s legs instantly buckled as they touched the ground, causing Alan to cry out as gravity pulled him to the ground.

Strong arms caught him.

“Whoa! I got you! I got you… ” Scott comforted, stabilising and taking some of the weight off Alan’s trembling and seriously wobbly legs. “It’s alright….”

Alan whimpered, leaning heavily against Scott, struggling to find his balance. His legs were slipping about like there was ice underneath him, instead of concrete.

“Sweetie?”

Alan ignored Scott as he finally got his feet to stop slipping, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at Scott to cheer his victory-

Alan’s knees gave out. Why?! Alan thought beyond frustrated and upset, his face scrunching up.

Why was this his life now?!

He hated that his limbs were so weak that he couldn’t even walk without assistance! Or that he practically had zero balance!

It just wasn’t fair!

He hated it; he hated it all!

“Oh, baby…” Scott lifted Alan’s chin up gently, his expression terribly sad as he wiped away tears that Alan didn’t even realise he cried. “Don’t cry, I’m here, it’s alright….”

Alan hiccuped, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to get control of himself. Emotionally and physically…

Stupid legs…

Scott sighed softly, “Do you want me to get your hover-chair out of the car, Allie?” Scott gently stroked Alan’s fringe to the side, regarding Alan with a sad frown, “it’s okay if you need to use it….”

Alan sniffled, shaking his head.

“No..” Alan mumbled, determined to get his footing and walk, even if he had to lean heavily on Scott to do it. “I…I wanna…I wanna get this..”

Scott frowned slightly, debating if he should let Alan try one late time or not. The first option wins out with a weary sigh, “okay….”

Alan took a little step forward, holding on tightly to Scott’s arm. He wobbled dangerously, and Scott moved to step in-

But Alan stabilised himself, his leg braces finally starting to help support his weight. Alan looked up at Scott with a little smile, a bit uncertain and scared, but nonetheless happy. “see?”

“I see…” Scott smiled proudly, even though he knew that Alan was very much leaning on him still for support.

Seeing Alan happy these days was a rare sight, so he wasn’t going to ruin it by mentioning it.

But they were going to be late if they didn’t get moving soon, Scott thought with a frown, looking at his watch.

“Okay, we better get going, kiddo….” Scott locked his car, and began leading Alan towards the hospital. “or we’ll be late for your appointment….”

“Oh..” Alan’s smile dropped, that miserable expression appearing once again as Alan took a wobbly step to follow Scott, “Okay….”

TBC...

[dollkastleinfo]

Dollzkastle

This is a blog dedicated to fans of the dollzkastle

To answer some Questions that you may have for myself or the dolls~ 🎀

I am going off of the questions I’ve been asked for years or even the new ones I’ve been getting since I’ve created a Tiktok~ I hope this answers your questions you’re looking for, now let’s begin 🐮

Myself Behind the dolls; my name is Decklynn but people call me Dk or Deck. I am an Agender with He and Him pronouns. I am a little with a caregiver/ daddy and I am a pet owner of 3 Kitties. I do both makeup and Doll art. I am a twenty something year old adult who’s been into crafting and customizing Dolls since I was a child. I am also an artist and got interested in drawing at a young age so I already had the type of skill to Draw on things and recreate facial hair and all types of stuff like this. I went to collage and majored in art while living at home with my parents who were Both Transphobic and Homophobic but also Abuse I’ve endured since a young age, physical, mental ive developed a great deal of mental health problems That even now I am being diagnosed and treated for. With an alcoholic parent and upon my mental health problems and living in a terrible environment that was life long I left home and left school and started my own life with my fiancé One day my fiancé was online and seen Big dolls that looked realistic and those dolls I was so fascinated by. I have never seen anything like them and to make a big 3D version of my ocs and crafting just sound like a dream come true. So I did it! I bought my very first BJD 600$ and I never regretted that. I wanted this one because I just fell Inlove with him. I know you’re thinking 600$!? That’s crazy but it literally is worth every penny when you put your heart and soul into a project it’s like your favorite anime character but you create them and you style them, that’s the best way I think I can put it.drawing on them is not as easy as other may think, you can be a phenomenal artist but still lack the skill to paint on them so it took me years to build the skill I have now. I am still learning 🤍🐮My first dolls unboxing is on YouTube under Octoberv12 ~ if you’re interested in just a little photo video of that time it seems like now, forever ago. My dolls gained huge popularity in 2018 on Instagram where there is a page I’ve dedicated to fanart and cosplays if you just #dollzkastlefanart on Instagram you will find them. I’ve taken a big break from them and left my old account behind to start a fresh and new one in 2020 till a month ago that’s when I decided to join Tiktok. I’ve been doing little music clips of the dolls for a while so I thought you guys would Enjoy them too 💓🐮

Questions and answers ?

Where are you from? New York

What websites are you on?

YouTube I have the dolls playlists individually. I put a lot of effort and energy into their characters they all have stories, music playlists and even avatars and their own accounts on Social media sites.

I am on Instagram under Dollzkastle, myDollzkastle, Decklynnkastle, Decklynnkastlee, omridurr, Acydfei, Princethedoll, Rjeaii, Dollzkastlefanart, Xeroyandere, milesophelia, crysky1, miloscenebabyxo,flowerboyrose, & itsmamamikki & Jasphire.vu

On Fb under Decklynn kastle or Milo Ryo

On Tiktok decklynn kastle or Dollzkastle

On Imvu Decklynnkastle, ivanx3, jeninsai, crackheadsymbols, charleta123, oaklynn10, jasphirexx, romanjackjrs, charleta1, Gemini953005, Milesawayfromyliife, BinxLemment, miloscenebaby, yandereboi7, Princethedoll1, acydfei, royal461349, KandyKimmy, mama13708, thyunderbolt1, ezratheomen

On Tumblr @dollzkastle @acydslitterbox

@ezratheomen , @mamamikki there are more but I’m not too active on tumblr right now

Email? @decklynnkastle@gmail.com or @dollzkastle@gmail.com

Do you sell your dolls? No I do not they’re my babies and I put a lot of work into their characters and I am emotionally attached to each of them. I have sold some that I didn’t bond well with.

What do you use to paint on them? I use acrylic paint, soft pastels, water color pencils, graphite, acrylic gloss and sealer. Doll eyelashes, little craft hoops and balls for piercings and craft tiny beads for jewlary. I use yarn sometimes for their hair but other times I purchase their hair online. Sometimes I draw them tattoos and sometimes I use Temp tattoos.

Do you do commissions? I do commissions for people who need work done to their own BJDs like faceups, hair or blush and nail art. I don’t buy dolls to work on to sell but in the future I’d like to do that. It’s an expensive hobby so get your pockets ready. My faceups are 60$ but for something really advanced it will be 80$ plus shipping charges. Nail art is 5$, blush is 10$ wigs are 25$ I’ve had people ask if they could buy the doll send them to my address instead of their home, I work on them and then send them to that person but you have to remember there is money involved and I mean lots of it so if you’re buying a 300$ doll via through me to a website you have to be willing to also pay me for putting this doll together which we can talk about via email the price. I will be able to hook you up with feedback located on Instagram under my thread “Dollzkastle” where you can see some of the items I’ve sold or commissions I’ve done and my customers I’ve had.

The quickest way to reach me is via Instagram on Decklynn kastle 🐮💗

What are the dolls made out of ?

Resin. I know there are vinyl bJDs out there but mine are just made out of resin~ 🍭🤍

So if you don’t sell your dolls, where do I get one ?? On BJD websites but be aware of scams or Recasts also which are usually cheaper and too good to be true prices. I’ve had my fair share in mistakes with this in the beginning after my first Doll. Do lots of research on YouTube to learn more. Recasts are heavily looked down upon in the hobby and people tend to stay away from and not talk about them because they are a problem to the hobby and create damage by taking an artists work and selling them for much cheaper. You will not get head plates or certificate or authenticity cards or an original Box. They tend to be much smaller then an originalwitj seam lines and sometimes they’re easy to spot so just save your coins and go legit, Support the artists. I do not bully people but others will. Some official Bjd cheap websites are thejunkyspot, Angel of dream, mystic kids, migidoll, Alicecollections, bobobie, withdoll, littleRebel, littlemonica, supiadoll and crobidolls and so many more just do some research y’all find them. If you have that type of money or want to save then check, Hummingdolly, dollshe, Soom, Doll chateau, dream valley, Iplehouse, Dikadoll, iOS (immortality of soul) distantmemory (the BTS dolls are from here I know a lot of you like BTS I am a Kpopper myself lol) and there’s just so so much more just type Bjd websites and y’all find a ton~ I just kinda remembered these at the top of my head. Lol 🐮💕

So where do you get clothes and accessories from?! Some are from EBay, Etsy, Amazon. Some are form people on IG who sell first come first served or little shops that don’t have a big name or anything that I just run into who happen to be selling what I want or need for a doll. I don’t make my own eyes but others do I get mine either commissioned or on the websites I just stated. Some stuff are handmade like wigs and clothing I do sometimes make those. You just have to know the size of your doll and their eye measurements and head measurements. 💗🐮

💜🍼Prince and his paci? The girl who sold them I bought two and she stopped selling them I’m currently looking myself for some Bigger doll pacis.

💕How big are your dolls? They’re as big as a toddler but much thinner. Some 3 feet and some a bit smaller but they’re large dolls sometimes people don’t realize that 🐮🤍 you can by a variety of diff sizes like MSD (1/4 30cm ranges) SD (1/3 60-75 cm range) SD uncle 80+ and Yosd (smaller 20cm or smaller range) I might be a little off but it’s because I only purchase the bigger ones I don’t have much interest in smaller currently.

Is it okay if I cosplay or draw or use anything from you for a project or anything like that? Just let me know or tag me 🌸💜🍭 I love seeing recreations in your art style.

Can I send the dolls gifts or things?

Someone is making my dolls currently clothes from their clothing line and I am so excited for this!! Over the years some of the dolls have been greatfully gifted things or given things and it just makes my heart melt so of course you can! Just Message me Via Decklynn kastle on IG to let me give you some info🤍💕💗🐮

I will be back to continue filling this out if I get more questions I haven’t already answered 💕🤍🐮 I hope I answered some for you! 🍭🌸 thank you for being lovely & have a great day!

[irwinkitten]

decisions | poly!kayshton

requested by anon:  Okay so we all know how protective alpha!Kayston is about omega!reader but what about her getting sad and needy cause she’s watching them help each other through their ruts and won’t let her join even tho the doctor gave the okay on it. Like they’re afraid to hurt her physically but don’t realize they’re hurting her emotionally. notes: this was intending to be like, 600 words long??? HA. that was never gonna happen. don’t like it, don’t read it. (there is also some abo!lierra in here too) warnings: angst, smut, fluff word count: 4.6k. (600 words my fuckin ASS)

donate to my ko-fi here

@sexgodashton​‘s abo!sos stuff can be found here

-

Being pregnant with twins was certainly an experience for you. Being pregnant with twins after being impregnated by two Alphas was something else entirely. 

Mercifully for you, because of the pregnancy, it meant that you stopped going into heat. But when a bump had started showing, your alphas had turned to each other when their ruts had hit them.

This appointment you’d attended alone, their ruts having caught the three of you by surprise. Your doctor was surprisingly kind, a Beta. And she sensed a question that was burning your mouth. 

“Even if it feels stupid to ask, sometimes asking helps.” She encouraged gently. 

“Will their ruts hurt me or the babies?” And you felt the lone tear fall. She handed you a tissue with no hesitation. 

“No. It’s perfectly safe for both of them if they’re rutting. The only thing I wouldn’t recommend is both of them. It won’t cause any damage from what we’ve seen in previous cases like yours, but it’s better not to take the chance. One of them, yes. Both of them, it’s not been proven to be dangerous but it’s not been proven to be safe either.” Her words were both comforting and frustrating. 

“They’ve been focusing on each other instead of you, haven’t they?” Her question wasn’t unkind, but the tears fell regardless. 

“It’s like they can’t even touch me any more and it’s driving me mad but they won’t listen. And I can hear them and it hurts to think like this because it draws back to the fears of just being a breeding purpose.” You’d never admit that to your Alpha’s. But some of the words that had been slung at you had stuck. 

“It might be presumptuous of me, but I can always put you in touch with a therapy service. It’s not to make you believe the rhetoric spouted by the bigots,” she cut in at your outraged look, “but to help you go through all of this. I might be a professional but even I recognised that both of your alphas are famous.” Her dry tone caused your face to grow warm and you hesitated. 

“I could maybe take a look.” You finally admitted quietly and she handed you a small card. 

“Don’t be too mad with them. They’re just thinking that they’re doing the right thing and are entirely misguided because of it.” 

You nodded your thanks to her before leaving, booking the next appointment. When you got into the car, you made the journey home, wondering if you could step into the house knowing that their scent was going to drive you crazy and they wouldn’t do anything about it. 

You could hear them as soon as you stepped through the door, and you steered your thoughts away from being rejected. 

But it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Grabbing a blanket and a couple of pillows from the living room, you headed out to where the porch swing was, curling up and wrapping yourself in the blanket as you muffled the heartbroken tears that fell. 

Whether they knew they were hurting you or not, you couldn’t stop the pain, the loneliness. 

When the house fell silent, you pressed your face into the pillow, unwilling to give them worry. You weren’t too sure if you’d be able to face them at that moment. 

Taking the decision to stop your heart from breaking further, you called Luke. When he greeted you, you couldn’t find the words to ask if you could stay with him. 

But he understood. 

“I’ll be around in fifteen. At least tell your dumb alphas that you’re coming to mine or they’ll panic.” Part of you wanted them to panic, to feel that worry. But you hummed an agreement. 

When you made your way upstairs, it was quiet. When you stepped in your shared bedroom, joy tried to ignore the heartache at the sight of them wrapped up together, asleep. 

So you quietly packed some clothes and made your way downstairs, leaving a note on the kitchen counter for them to find when they woke up. 

Luke has arrived and once you were in the car and he was pulling away, you cried. 

“What are they doing, sweet thing?” And you told him everything.

When you’d arrived at his, Sierra was there to greet you, her concern melting into annoyance at your alphas. 

“They should know better.” She muttered as she took your hand and guided you inside.

When your bag had been set by the stairs, her arms drew you into a hug. Her touch felt wrong and yet you leaned into it because it was the first piece of physical affection you’d gotten and the small, sad thought caused the tears to fall. 

“Sweetheart.” Sierra’s concern was overwhelming and you held onto her tightly. And then it clicked for her when she caught a whiff of their scents on you. 

Without another word, she pulled you upstairs to the spare bedroom, her arms and body wrapping around yours as you cried. 

“Love?” Luke had followed helplessly behind, feeling at a complete loss of what to do. 

“Their Alpha’s haven’t touched them during their ruts. It’s probably the worst thing they could’ve done because our sweet omega here is trying to convince their mind that it’s not a rejection. That it’s out of care. But they’re hurting.” Sierra’s voice was soothing and her hand ran up and down your back as you struggled to contain the sobbing. 

“But, this?” His hesitation was met with a warm smile from his mate. 

“The physical connection with an Alpha is a form of grounding. More often than not it’s an Alpha they know, which is why we’re like this. You’re emotional support but they need that physical touch, especially with the babies.” Luke’s face was a picture. 

“Babies?” 

“Surprise.” You muttered into Sierra's shoulder. 

“Oh sweet omega, you were never gonna be able to  hide that from other Alphas. Luke here is just a bit slow on that uptake and scent change.” Sierra teased and you simply sighed in return. 

Eventually Luke crawled behind you and didn’t protest the other omegas touch. 

It had been very hit and miss with the pregnancy, other omegas touch having made you feel physically ill. Part of you suspected it was because you were nestled into Sierra. 

“Is it wrong for me to say I’m glad that we don’t have a third?” Luke’s quiet huff instantly had guilt rushing through you. 

“Sorry Lu.” You whispered and he scoffed, his arms tightening around you. 

“Don’t apologise. I’m just thinking out loud. I know you’re mates and this doesn’t bother me, but sharing another? I don’t know how I’d feel.” He murmured and you chuckled. 

“I wasn’t sure at first. But they were both so possessive, Kaykay more than Ashton, and I wanted them both. I guess there’s something guiding us with our mating, at least our attitudes. You wouldn’t have a third if you got jealous easily. They get jealous, yes, but when I’m not focusing on them after so long.” Your voice seemed to get heavier and Sierra tutted gently. 

“Questions later. Rest sweet thing. When can I expect your mates to start storming the walls?” 

The order wasn’t quite an Alpha’s order, but your body began to submit regardless. 

“Probably when they realise that I meant what I said when I told them I was spending a few days away.” You replied before you finally fell asleep. 

When you next woke up, you felt confused. You were still sandwiches between Sierra and Luke and your bladder was about to burst. 

You shifted, climbing over Sierra before rushing to the bathroom, your bladder feeling the relief once you’d peed. When you returned to the room, Sierra was sat up. 

“Looks like you needed that last night sweet thing. We thought you’d wake up to the smell of food but you didn’t even twitch.” Her tone was amused and you felt your eyes unable to meet hers. 

“You should’ve woken me, I need to-I have to still eat even when I don’t want to.” It explained why you hadn’t been hit with morning sickness yet. 

“Don’t worry. It happens. Let’s get some food started and this big lug of an omega should get up then.” 

You followed her downstairs, and watched as she began to make breakfast. You’d retrieved yourself phone from your bag to find the battery nearly drained as well a lot of missed calls. 

Plugging it into a charger, you opened up the texts from your mates, noting the apologetic tones. You sighed. 

“I guess they’re feeling sorry.” Sierra murmured and you nodded. 

“I know they are, but this, this is different.” You hummed and she nodded. 

“It is. You’re more than welcome to stay another night.” She murmured gently and you nodded in return. 

“I appreciate your hospitality.” The two of you shared a smile as you heard footsteps upstairs and she dished up the food. 

When Luke got downstairs, his hair was ruffled and he couldn't contain his yawn, but he greeted you with a grin before greeting his mate with a kiss. 

You looked away, the sharp pain giving you a shock, your hand reaching up to grasp over your heart.

Sierra was immediately in front of you, her hands cradling your face as you shrugged to take in any kind of breath. 

“You’re not going catatonic on us sweet thing. Yes your Alohas have been dumb but they’ll come back to you.” And your mind latched onto those words, the few tears that had fallen made you feel slightly guilty. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m sorry.” You whispered and she shook her head.

“Despite them being idiots, letting you fall into a catatonic state would make everything worse. And I’m certain your Alphas would rip me a new one.” She murmured as she cleaned your face free from the tears. 

You didn’t argue with her as she finally pulled away and returned to breakfast, your mind replaying her words over and over to ease the pain in your chest. 

“So I was thinking, maybe winding the two very dumb alphas up today, what do you say?” Luke’s question was so casual you very nearly didn’t pay attention to it, trying to keep your mind focused on the fact that they hadn’t rejected you. 

But you’d heard his words and felt that they deserved some worry. 

“Luke...” Sierra's tone was a warning and he grinned impishly at her. 

“We’re just going out. But you aren’t going to know where, and neither are they. I’ll take my phone so we can call if we need it, but today is an omega day.” He turned a cheeky smile in your direction and you tried to smile back, but it felt like a grimace.

“It’d be nice to be around people who don’t make me wanna throw up.” Both Alpha and omega snorted their drinks in laughter before the three of you went and got ready for the day. 

By the time the car was down the highway, you ignored the tug that was begging you to go home. You knew you were going to go home but you needed to teach them a lesson. 

Even if it hurt you. 

It was a day of the beach mostly. Neither of you were looked at twice, not with your two marks and his singular one. And if there were fans about, they left the two of you alone. 

You’d done some shopping, finding the silliest finds that you could for your mates. You’d picked out the most obnoxious shirt for Ashton, knowing he’d probably wear it, paired with the most ridiculous board shorts as well. For Kaykay you’d picked up some outrageous skirts that held clashing colours as well as another obnoxious shirt. But you’d also picked out some nicer gifts as well. 

As you walked about, stopping every now and then, you were feeling more relaxed for the first time in weeks. 

It felt like a small piece of freedom which soothed your aching soul. 

“Do you think if I asked, they’d move closer to the coastline?” You asked as the two of you got ice cream. Luke paid for you, much to your dismay. 

“I think they’d move to the ends of the earth if you asked them to. However I know that Ash has been looking at either selling up or expanding. Why the coast though?” You were walking along the parade, your arm looked through his as you hummed, trying to process your thoughts. 

“It just feels soothing. I know that it’ll be hell during tourist season but if we could find a quiet place with a nice sized garden along the coastline? It’d be ideal.”

The two of you finished up, heading back to the car. The sun was beginning to set and you knew that Luke had promised for the two of you to be back for dinner. 

You hadn’t expected to see Ashton’s car parked just outside of the driveway, causing your eyebrows to shoot up. You also didn’t expect to hear shouting from within the house when you stepped out of the car. 

“You two are thick fucking Alpha’s if you really believe that to be a way to treat your Omega!” Sierra’s voice cut through the air and you shared a look with Luke. 

“I guess she decided to give them the what for.” He muttered as the two of you made your way back inside. 

“We’d damage them or the babies, it’s why we-”

“Says who? Did you talk to your mate? Ask their doctor? I held your mate as they cried last night because of you absolute morons!”

The shouting had masked your entry back and you slowly made your way to the sound of the shouting. 

“If anyone should be shouting, it should be me.” You muttered as you stepped into the living room and three pairs of eyes snapped to you. Sierra smiled. 

The relief on Kaykay and Ashton’s faces made your anger surge. 

“You don’t get to look at me like that.” You snapped, causing both of them to reel back in shock. “Had you listened to me the first time, you’d have found out that it’s fine for you to be with me when you rut. Maybe not both together but individually, yes.” 

Their faces fell and you turned to Sierra. 

“I know you extended the invite for me to stay tonight, but I think we’d best get home.” She smiled and pulled you in for a hug. 

“You’re welcome back anytime.”

When Luke pulled you into a hug, you held on a little bit tighter. 

“We need more omega days.” He whispered before letting you go. 

“I did have the best day today. Thank you.” And he beamed. 

You made your way upstairs and collected the few things you’d brought before heading back down to where your two silent Alphas were waiting. 

The journey home was excruciating because they held their silence. You refused to give any satisfaction of breaking the quiet, so the journey was held no conversations or music as Ashton drove the three of you home. 

When you were back within the walls of your own home, you headed up to the spare room and this finally broke their silence. 

“Are you, you’re not sleeping with us?” The hesitation in Kaykay’s voice made your chest hurt once more. But you tried to ignore the side that was screaming at you to crawl back into your room with them. 

“Unless you two are going to touch me, no.” 

Her hand reached out, fingers curving your cheek with a hopeful look in her eyes. You could only sigh. 

“You know I don’t mean like that.” You got out and her hand dropped. 

“We could hurt you, hurt the babies.” Ashton finally whispered, the determination that you’d seen days before, replaced by uncertainty. 

“If you’d have bothered to even try and listen to me last week, you’d have realised that one of you won’t do any damage. The whole fucking point of being your mate and omega is to help you.” You finally snapped and Ashton flinched back. 

It felt wrong on every level to see him so, submissive. Even Kaykay had her eyes on the floor and you felt wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You were their omega. 

“Please, look at me.” The words were a broken whimper and their heads snapped up. And you weren’t entirely sure what changed, but they were both surrounding you, their scent so unique and welcoming as you held onto them both. 

“Please I can’t take it. I’ve cried so much. It hurts my soul being like this but all I feel like is just a thing for you to breed and then for you both to turn to each other.” You finally got out, and the realisation of your words hurt you more than you realised, a sob breaking free. 

You caught a glimpse of the matching looks of horror on their faces and you felt the guilt begin to eat you up for making them feel like that. 

But then Kaykay spoke up. 

“Sweetheart, we didn’t realise it was hurting you this much. Oh god I’m so sorry.” Her arms were around you and you barely moved as the both pressed against you, your body relishing in the fact that you were pressed between your Alphas. 

Only when you’d calmed down, did they finally move, but it was to bring you back to your own room, Ashton leaving for a moment to retrieve your things. 

In those few moments, a side of you was clawing at you to follow him, but you were encased within Kaykay’s arms. So you whined. 

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was gentle and soothing. 

“Alpha.” You whimpered in return and she understood immediately. 

“Ash baby, come back.” Her voice was calm and the second he was back in the room, you settled. “Sweet omega, how did you survive like this?” There was no patronising tone, her curious genuine as Ashton crawled in and pressed against you. 

“Survive what?” His voice held confusion and she pressed a kiss to your lips before getting off the bed. Your eyes tracked her as she walked around the room, but the moment she left the room for longer than fifteen seconds, the whines began to escape, fingers digging into the sheets, torn. 

She stepped back into view and your body relaxed. 

Pushing yourself up, you crawled across the bed to her, kneeing up when you reached the edge of the bed where she stood. 

Kaykay smirked.

“Needy little omega. So desperate. We’ve been such piss poor Alphas, making you think you were nothing but something for us to breed. But we need to rectify that. Make sure you know that we want you.” Her voice was husky and you tried to keep your breathing steady. 

You were going on your instincts at this point, the desperate need so strong and demanding. 

“Please Alpha.” 

You could see she was visibly hard, and she glanced over her shoulder to Ashton. 

“I can see your worry, but we take our sweet, willing omega one at a time. Make sure they know they’re all we want.” You bit back a moan at her words. The bed shifted and you watched as they both got undressed, Ashton taking the chair in the corner. 

She helped you off the bed, undressing you with practised ease, her fingers feeling like fire on your skin. 

“Back on the bed little omega. Hands and knees facing your Alpha.” You did as you were told, eyes studying Ashton as his hand moved up and down his cock slowly. 

You felt Kaykay press behind you, the bed sinking with her weight. She wasted no time, burying her cock inside of you, a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Needy little omega.” She murmured as her hips began to move and you knew that you weren’t going to last long at all. 

Your first orgasm surprised her, pulling a stunned gasp from her lips as your arms trembled from holding you up. 

“So desperate for your Alpha’s that you’re barely being fucked and you’re already making a mess. Oh baby we’re gonna have fun with you.” You whined at her words, fingers grasping at the covers. 

With one hand on your hips, she leaned forward, her other hand gripping your shoulder and pulling you up against her. 

The new position had you seeing stars, head falling back onto her shoulders as she continued to drive into you, her lips playing with her mark on you and you knew she wasn’t too far off. 

“Look at your Alpha when I knot you little omega. We may have already bred you but fuck, show him how good this feels.” Her words were much lower, and you couldn’t fight the command, head tilting back towards Ashton as you felt the shift and you moaned. 

Your eyes stayed locked with Ashton as you came again, Kaykay’s orgasm following and her teeth sinking into her mark, your body twitching as she held you in place, her breathing heavy. 

“So perfect little omega. Are you ready for your Alpha to fill you again?” You gasped, a whine escaping as you felt the knot already in you deflate and Kaykay slid out effortlessly. 

“Come sit on your Alphas lap little omega. You’ve been so good for us.” His words were coaxing and you slowly climbed off the bed, legs trembling a little. 

Kaykay remained on the bed, her body almost flopping into the bed sheets as her eyes watched you both, Ashton’s arms catching you as you half collapsed into his lap, straddling him as you did. 

“So good for us little omega. I promise you we won’t do this again.” His words had a profound effect as you ground against his cock, a whimper leaving your lips as his hands pressed into your hips, lifting you up and your hand gripped his cock, the other grasping his shoulder as he settled you down, a low moan escaping from him in time with another whine from you. 

“Alpha.” The word escaped and he shifted the two of you until his hips began to rock against you and you could feel your eyes rolling back as he fucked up into you. 

“God I’m so sorry little omega, denying this from you when I should’ve listened.” The words were a low growl, your mind spinning as you felt Kaykay come up behind you, her lips working your neck. 

With both of your Alpha’s stimulating you, you knew it wasn’t going to be much longer and Ashton groaned as your body shook and the orgasm hit you, his low moans having a dizzying effect on you. 

“Keep cumming sweet omega. Cum on his cock till you’re spent.” Kaykay whispered and you didn’t fight her words as the angle he was driving into you, sent you spiralling once more before he chased his own high, his knot expanding inside of you. 

His teeth sank into his own mark, Kaykay’s teeth sinking in a second time and you felt everything in you settle, the care of your Alpha’s driving away any doubts as you all caught your breath. 

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Ashton finally whispered as he drew back and your lips found his, gentle and soothing compared to the desperate and needy kisses. 

“Talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Even Sierra recognised that you doing this to me was both stupid and dangerous.” You whispered in return and he sighed as he pulled out and groaned at the sight between your legs. You smiled gently. 

“I know you’re in a rut but both of you look like you haven’t slept.” Ashton pulled you back to the bed, Kaykay having retrieved a cloth to clean between your legs before crawling up your body, dropping a kiss to your lips. 

“Then nap time sounds amazing sweetheart.” She whispered, her body settling next to yours. Ashton has discarded the cloth before settling on your other side. 

Their scent enveloped you as your mind settled, falling asleep with ease as their hands rested over the small bump. 

—

You ended up waking up the following day and despite how tangible your mates scents were, it wasn’t overwhelming and desperate like the last few days had been. 

Kaykay’s face was nuzzled into your neck, her breathing slow and heavy. Ashton’s fingers traced light patterns on your barely showing bump, his face pressed into your hair. 

“I know you’re awake sweetheart.” His voice was soothing and soft. You hummed in response, unwilling to lodge your mate from her position against you. 

Ashton made no further attempt to talk as you just enjoyed the peace of being wedged between them both, your heart and soul seemingly allowing the moment to balm the edges that had appeared over the last few days. 

“You really hurt me.” You finally whispered. Ashton’s hand stilled only for a moment before he continued and you took that as a signal to continue talking. 

But the words wouldn’t come. Or at least, words that wouldn’t break his heart. 

“It felt like my chest was caving in at the thought of you both rejecting me, or even just using me to breed pups and then turn to each other.” The tears were in your eyes, lifting a hand to wipe them away. 

Ashton held his silence, knowing you needed to get this off your chest. 

“All I could think was that the fans were right and I was nothing to either of you.” This time a sob broke free, and a gentle squeeze from Kaykay alerted you to the fact she was awake. 

“We made the wrong judgement without your input, and would have lost you because of it.” Ashton spoke softly, the pain in his voice certainly telling of how much he cared. 

“I’m your mate. Your third. I’m carrying both of your pups for fucks sake.” 

“And we picked the wrong decision. I know our hormones and emotions were high yesterday, but when I said I was sorry, I meant it sweet omega. You’ve changed us for the better but we’re both headstrong alphas who need you. And we nearly lost you.” Kaykay’s voice was filled with sleep and you could only hold on to her and Ashton’s grip around you got tighter. 

“If I had to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I would. You deserve better than how we treated you.” Ashton’s voice was gentle as you shifted around, wiggling so that you could look at him, a stern look in your eyes. 

“I do, but you’re my stubborn alphas who still forget that their omega is not an alpha, no matter how much sass I give you both. I accept your apologies and when I’m not so angry about it all, you know I’ll forgive you. But you have to promise me, both of you promise me that you’ll never do this again.”

“You have my word, little omega.” Ashton didn’t hesitate with his words, and you turned to Kaykay. 

“I promise you, sweetheart. It won’t happen ever again.” And you could hear the honesty in their words. 

“Good.” You felt petulant but being wrapped up in both of them felt too good for you to want to willingly be away from them. 

You knew the bond needed to settle and you were not going to say no to a day with your alphas, especially when they were like this. 

Settling into their embrace, Ashton resumed tracing patterns on the bump and your mind followed it slowly before you fell back asleep, murmuring a soft “love both of you.” 

-

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[softdadcarlos]

Aftermath

Masterlist

Fandom: Resident Evil/Biohazard

Pairing: Jill/Carlos

AU: Post-RE3 Carlos and Jill

Summary: Leaving Raccoon City behind, Jill and Carlos deal with the present and think about the future.

Requested by @stardustfalling​ I hope you enjoy as this is the first half of your request!

Jill didn’t know how long they were flying for, completely out of it as she stared out into the horizon blankly. The city she knew was gone, reduced to smouldering rubble, her home and life as she knew nought but ashes. She had no idea what she meant to do now, the only thing she was certain of was that Umbrella needed to pay for the lives they’ve ruined and snuffed out before their time. She wondered if those she had encountered that weren’t on the train had survived, like Kendo and his family.

Jill was bought out of her thoughts by hands covering on her own that were resting on her knees. She looked over, meeting Carlos’ eyes as he gave her a soft smile.

“Looks like this is our stop supercop, chopper’s out of gas.”

Jill nodded, too exhausted for words both emotionally and physically. Carlos hopped out of the aircraft first, holding out a hand to her to help her down, which in all honesty she was grateful for. She had taken a beating the past few days and it was finally catching up to her as the adrenaline filtered out of her system. It seemed they had landed in an empty field not far from a large town.

Carlos walked out into her field of vision, silhouetted by the midday sun as he put a hand on his hip and gestured to the town with his thumb, “It’s roughly midday so shops should be open, I’ll be able to get us some new clothes to change into and some medical supplies. You probably don’t have your wallet on you but I’m more than happy to foot the bill this time.”

Jill raised a brow, “This time?”

“We need to lay low for a while, let Umbrella forget about us. So once we’re all cleaned up we’re hitting the bank so you can get out as much money as you can.”

Oh. He was making plans… that included her.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jill agreed.

“I would ask you to stay here for me but… I don’t think either of us will feel easy about being separated right now.”

Carlos wandered back over to the helicopter, shrugging off his assault rifle and undoing his vest. Leaving him in just his tshirt and cargo pants with a pistol strapped to his thigh. He looked distastefully at his sleeves, emblazoned with the Umbrella logo, making him reach up and rip them off.

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After an hour of waiting around for Carlos outside of shops as not to draw too much attention to themselves, they finally had what they needed. They just needed to find a place to stay. A shopkeeper had kindly told Carlos about a cheap hotel, not from the shopping district. So the duo headed that way, thanking every god that they could think of that the receptionist did bat an eye at Jill’s blood-covered appearance. They opted to share a room but with separate beds, feeling awkward about the idea of sharing a bed.

“I’ll shower first. I feel gross and I doubt I’m pleasant to be around.” Jill announced.

Carlos chuckled, “You don’t exactly smell like roses.” He dumped their shopping out onto a bed, sorting through it before tossing some clothes towards her, which she effortlessly caught. “I’ll fix you up when we’re both clean. Don’t want to touch open wounds with grubby hands.”

Jill grunted in response, heading straight to the bathroom, favouring getting clean over conversation. She situated the clean clothes on the towel rack before moving to the shower to turn it on, fiddling with the faucets to reach her desired temperature. God she couldn’t wait to get under the hot steaming water. The dried sewage and Nemesis blood making her skin crawl and itch as it cracked and flaked off of her as she moved.

She stripped off her filthy clothes, once again muttering about burning them in a dumpster because no amount of rinse cycles would remove the stains or stench. She stepped under the hot stream with a sigh, just standing under it basking in the heat as it relaxed her tense and aching muscles. Open wounds stang as the dirt that had caked them shut got washed away. More so when she reached for the hotel supplied body wash, scrubbing herself down rigorously like it could wash away the memories that were more than likely going to haunt her dreams.

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A full hour later, Jill finally left the bathroom cleaner than she had probably ever been in her life. The clothes Carlos had bought for her were loose-fitting sweats which she was very thankful for. The last thing she wanted to wear would be some sort of body-conforming ensemble that would rub up against and constrict her injuries. Especially after her brief self-assessment in the shower. It was more than likely she had a couple of broken ribs. Her ankles sprained.

Carlos took a significantly shorter amount of time in the bathroom than she did but then again, he didn’t have to trek through the sewers. He came out dressed in a matching set of sweats, probably having his own injuries he didn’t want to aggravate. His hair was slicked back out of his face, no doubt in Jill’s mind that if not its shaggy length while wet would have obscured his vision. It also revealed just how nasty of a black eye he had from his punch up with Nikolai which she hadn’t really noticed before. He went over to the bed that was silently agreed to be his, grabbing the medical supplies he purchased from a pharmacy.

He crouched down in front of her and started assessing her ankle, “We should get you patched up first. I don’t know how you managed to run around the city and fight that thing multiple times in this state.” He pushed up the pant leg to see how bad the bruising was and what he saw had him take in a sharp breath, “Jesus Christ, Jill, there’s nothing here that isn’t purple. Good thing I grabbed this arnica cream, should help the bruising go down… Although I think there won’t be enough for me.”

He was gentle in rubbing the cream onto the worst areas, even when he wrapped it in gauze to help support her ankle. From there he went into a pattern, reveal a new bruised canvas and lather it in cream, find a cut: disinfect and cover it. Some wounds required paper stitches to help encourage them to close. The wound from where she was infected would need actual stitches but the pharmacy didn’t have the items necessary for that. Jill tried to stop herself from blushing as she pulled up her sweater to just under her breasts, but her ribs couldn’t be ignored and self-consciousness would get her nowhere.

Carlos applied a gentle pressure as he surveyed the damage making Jill hiss. “Shit, yeah they’re definitely broken. But unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do. They can’t be splinted and binding them would make them worse. All I can offer you for this is an ice pack.”

Jill sighed, dropping the material, “Just my luck. But that can wait for now.”

Carlos nodded, understanding her unsaid order, stripping off his sweater so she could get a good look at his injuries. Multiple fist-sized bruises littered his upper body, a few scrapes and cuts on his arms. All in all not too bad… except for the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Jill felt guilt settle in her stomach. She did that to him. And the faded scars from stab wounds and other gunshots told her she wasn’t the first to injure him in such a manner. Probably a hazard of the job much like how it was for S.T.A.R.S. She flinched as he grunted when she disinfected the wound, muttering apologises as she did so. She was drawn out of it by Carlos placing a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes, sincerity warming his chocolate coloured ones.

“Don’t blame yourself. I told you to take the shot.”

“It could have been so much worse if I had missed.”

“But you didn’t and I trusted you not to.”

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Carlos was already awake when he heard Jill tossing and turning in her sleep. They were both exhausted and had decided to call it a day early. It would be a lie to say Carlos wasn’t concerned for her. In fact, it would also be an understatement to say he was only concerned. After spending half a day searching for her and finding her on the ground, his first thought was that she had died and he had lost her. Of course, he was proven wrong when he approached her, relieved to find she was comatosed. Which didn’t last long with the realisation that she was infected. Carlos had never been through such a flurry of emotion in such a short space of time. But it did bring to light that he didn’t want to be away from her side. So sleep did not come easy to him, visions of her laying there bloodied on the ground swimming in his head.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she must be seeing in those nightmares of hers, because there was no doubt that after that hell that dreams would be a thing of the past for a while. With a groan, Carlos pushed himself up and off his bed, approaching the distraught woman as she sat bolt upright panting.

“Easy there, supercop, I’m here.” He reassured, seating himself next to her and took one of her hands in his, thumb rubbing the back of it soothingly.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Carlos chuckled dryly, “Was too concerned that if I closed my eyes and opened them again you’d be gone.”

Jill was quiet for a moment, considering his words before she spoke up, “Want to push the beds together?”

Carlos blinked at her, “Uuuh… Jill as much as I think that you’re one hell of a woman, I doubt you or I are in a fit state to-”

Jill covered his mouth with her palm, awkward laughter bubbling out of her, “That’s not what I meant. It’s just sometimes sleeping next to someone helps, you know?”

Carlos nodded, “Yeah I get you… Would you like to get dinner together tomorrow?” Jill looked visibly confused as Carlos became flustered at her unwavering stare. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re one hell of a woman. And I uh… there’s no pressure but uh… since I’m the only one out of the two of us that has a place to actually live once we leave this place… I was thinking it might be best if you crash at my place until you sort something out…” He trailed off, avoiding her eyes the more unsure in himself he became.

Jill got off the bed and Carlos felt his stomach drop. Shit.

“Come on let’s push these beds together, we can talk more about it once we’ve rested up.”

Begrudgingly Carlos got up and helped close the gaps between the two beds. Once done they settled into the centre of the unified bed. Carlos was pleasantly surprised to find Jill shuffling back into him while led on the side without broken ribs and grabbed one of his arms to drape over her stomach, interlocking her fingers with his. This effectively led to them spooning.

“I think I’ll feel safer like this.” She whispered, glad he couldn’t see the red colouring her cheeks.

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A/N:  A lot of the injuries Jill is described as having here I have kinda experienced first hand including the broken ribs and entirely fucked ankles. And let me tell you, injuries like that UNTREATED really fuck with your sex life. My ribs are still hurty nearly 20 years later. If only I had someone as gentle as Carlos ㅠㅠ Also I suffer from chronic pain and had a particularly bad time with it today and had a random ass anxiety attack on top of that.

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[uncloseted]

How Can I Care Less About My Image Like Effy? Less About Impressing Others And More About Just Doing What I Like Without Letting Them Influence Me?

Anonymous said:

So I have some problems with my confidence. I can be confident at times but it lasts for a very short time and I begin analysing every part of myself and find new insecurities. Sometimes it makes me feel really disgusting so any advice?? Thank you for this blog btw

Anonymous said:

Even though there are people who like me I feel like I'm not a likeable person because I'm insecure and this gets in the way of me socialising, having fun and having good relationships with people. How do I stop feeling this way?

Anonymous said:

last night i had the worst breakdown i’ve had in foreve about how ugly i was, every single detail about myself was so prominent and i’ve fallen so deep down this hole where i couldn’t hate myself more. i’m so unattractive andthat’s the only thing that people give a fuck about , relatives, friends, family, employers, it’s consumed my life. sometimes i’ll look in the mirror and like what i see &for that fleeting moment i’m so fucking happy you can’t imagine but then i go back to seeing the truth

Anonymous said:

I hate myself. How do I mask my insecurities and make people think I'm confident and make it look like don't care about what they think?

Anonymous said:

how can i appear more confident?

Anonymous said:

how do i deal with fear of being judged? I'm always so scared that people I've known for a long time will remember embarrassing things I've done and still laugh at me for it

Anonymous said:

I'm so insecure because I care so much what people think, its so bad that I don't even want to leave my house. When I go out with all my friends, almost all of them get complimented somehow and I never do, it might sound selfish or something but it really brings down my self esteem, I start feeling like I'm invisible or that people only hang out with me because they feel bad for me, and it makes me want to stop being social/getting out of the house, etc.

Anonymous said:

I sometimes hate my face so much and I feel so insecure and it's the worst feeling :( I hope I like the way I look one day but it seems so hard.

Anonymous said:

I can’t be confident with myself, I’m a huge ppl pleaser bc it feels like is the only way to keep them around, and I guess that’s ok but what frustrastes me the most is the fact that ppl don’t see me or my personality, it’s like I’m just there to help them out, to be their side kick... whenever I try to be confident I cringe at myself... How can I feel more secure with myself?

More than any other question, the thing I get asked most is how to build self-confidence, overcome insecurities, and deal with the fear of being judged.  In this post, I’m going to put every tip and trick I know about becoming confident, no matter who you are and the situation you’re in.

The first thing to remember about confidence is that people aren’t drawn to people because they’re beautiful, or smart, or kind, or fun, or interesting.  People are drawn to people who are confident.  If you’re confident and weird, you’re not weird, you’re a visionary.  If you’re confident and ugly, you’re not ugly, you’re “unconventionally beautiful” or a trendsetter.  If you’re confident and overly serious, you’re not boring, you’re a leader.  A lot of people think it’s the other way around- that only beautiful, smart, charming people who are well-liked can be confident- but it’s not true.  To use a Skins example, Tony’s not a good person.  He’s manipulative and cruel.  But people like him (at least in the beginning) and go along with what he says because he’s confident.  The same goes for Katie.  You can argue about whether she’s objectively the most attractive girl in the group, but she acts confident in herself and in her appearance, and it works. Lots of guys are attracted to her.  So that’s the first thing- don’t focus on changing yourself (physically or emotionally) in the hopes that you’ll be more confident.  Instead, focus on changing your mindset to that of a confident person.  It will make a huge difference. 

Of course, that’s all easier said than done, and the process of building self confidence can take a while.  In the meantime, while you’re on the journey of actually becoming confident, one thing that can help is “faking it until you make it”.  When you’re going about your day, ask yourself, “how would a confident person who’s never experienced insecurity or anxiety handle this situation”?  Then do what a confident person would do.  If you have a really confident friend, it can help to imagine what they would do in a given situation and then do that.  Pretend everyone you meet already loves you and thinks you’re great.  Pretend like you think you’re great.  It will feel uncomfortable at first, but you’ll start getting used to it and the “confident” responses to things will start feeling normal.  One thing that can make this a little bit easier is to talk to yourself in the second person.  By saying things like “you’ve got this”, your brain will (sort of) feel like you’re receiving advice from somebody else, which is more motivating than getting advice from ourselves.

There are also some exercises you can use to build your self confidence on your own. Some of you have heard this one before, so bare with me, but the first thing I suggest is:  every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and say some things you like about yourself.  I know you probably feel like you can’t find any, but try.  Focus on those things that you like and try to only focus on those things.  Write them down, either physically (on a sticky note on your mirror, maybe) or in your phone.  Each day, try to add a new thing to the list.  When you’re out and about, remember those things that you like about yourself, focus on them, and try to draw attention to them.  When other people compliment you, add those to your list as well.  I think eventually by recognizing all of the things that you like about yourself, you’ll be able to feel like there are things about you that you can be confident in, and you won’t focus so much on the things that you feel are negative.  These don’t have to just be things that are physical.  You should include things you like about your personality as well.

I mentioned this trick the other day, but I want to put it here as well.  A lot of people who are insecure use deprecating humor to cope and as a bid to get other people to like them.  But I think that can be really emotionally damaging.  Like Hannah Gadsby said in Nanette, “I have built a career out of self-deprecating humor, and I don’t want to do that anymore..do you understand what self-deprecation means when it comes from somebody who already exists in the margins? It’s not humility. It’s humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak, in order to seek permission to speak, and I simply will not do that anymore, not to myself or anybody who identifies with me.”  Self-deprecation impacts our self-esteem, and it impacts the way people around us view us.  The more times we say something, even as a joke, the more we start to believe it, and the more the people around us start to believe it.  So instead, make fun of yourself by pretending you’re really, really cocky.  If you trip and fall, instead of saying, “I’m such a disaster”, replace it with “I’m the epitome of grace and beauty”.  If you make a piece of art and you think it sucks, say, “Obviously I’m the next Di Vinci/Michelangelo/whatever.”  If you say something dumb, instead of saying, “I’m so stupid,” say, “I’m clearly the next Einstein.”  You still get to make a joke and diffuse any awkwardness the situation has, but you also get practice saying nice things about yourself.  And eventually, you’ll get so used to saying nice things about yourself as a joke that it won’t feel so weird to say those things about yourself in a serious way, too.

For those people who feel insecure about things they did in their past, try and think of something embarrassing one of your friends has done.  Can you think of anything?  The vast majority of people remember their own embarrassing moments really vividly, but don’t remember things other people have done at all.  Reminding yourself that you’re probably the only one who remembers or cares about the mistake you made can help you let go.  The mistakes you’ve made in the past are learning experiences that you’ve grown from and changed from, and the fact that you’re embarrassed by them is a good thing.  It means that you’re not that person anymore- that you’ve become someone better.  I think that’s something to celebrate instead of something to cringe at.  It can also help to talk to yourself as if you were a friend who’s remembering an embarrassing moment. Would you tell them how embarrassing that moment was and how much they suck?  Probably not.  You’d be nice to them and tell them things will be okay.  Talk to yourself like you would a friend.

The fact that people aren’t paying attention to what you’re doing doesn’t just apply to cringey things you did in your past.  People are unlikely to remember that one time you tried a new hairstyle or wore an unusual piece of clothing.  They’re unlikely to remember that one time you asked someone out and they rejected you.  So many of the social pressures we feel can be remedied by remembering that most people are way too worried about what they’re doing and how they appear to the world to care about what you’re doing. 

One more piece of advice- stop comparing yourself to other people.  The old adage, “comparison is the thief of joy” is totally, scientifically proven to be true.  Comparing ourselves to other people (or to TV shows, movies, characters in books, etc) makes us much less happy because we’re comparing everything we know about ourselves, good and bad, with a curated version of this person.  We don’t see them when they wake up in the morning with crusty eyes and frizzy hair, or when they have the flu, or when they’re overwhelmed and anxious and lashing out at the people around them.  But the truth is that everyone, even the people you think have perfect lives that you see on social media, are just people.  They have bad habits and negative traits and days where they’re not at their best, just like the rest of us.  If you really want to start being confident, one of the best things you can do for yourself is to mute or unfollow the people who make you feel insecure online, and replace them with people who inspire you- artists or activists or cute videos of animals, whatever works.  You’ll never be able to feel good about yourself if you’re constantly tracking all the ways in which you feel you don’t measure up.  But you will if you’re constantly seeing all the ways in which you do.

Last thing. Basic life care stuff, like good posture, exercising, eating well, sleeping well, meditating, and just generally practicing self-care and taking care of yourself can improve your confidence as well.  If you’re not starting on a strong foundation, it’s hard to build anything that will last.  But if your foundation is solid, all of the things you do to build your self-confidence on top of that will be, too.

[frame-to-frame]

On Griffith’s Sacrifice, Coping Mechanisms, and Heartbreak

This is an essay that jumps off from the amazing  Griffith   meta written by @bthump (most particularly part 4). All of the groundwork for the following argument is laid out there, this is just an elaboration on Griffith’s decision to make the sacrifice, though I hope it also stands on its own.

CW for extended discussions of self harm, self loathing, and suicide

~~

What I love most about Griffith’s fall into villainy is that it’s not motivated by ideology. Unlike the villains we’re used to, who differ from Our Heroes on the basis of their (often warped) ideals (e.g. a belief in anarchy, vengeance, hierarchies between peoples, etc.), Griffith does not ultimately make a moral or ideological decision to perpetrate an evil act. In his choice to become a monster, as he finally capitulates and chants “I sacrifice,” he’s not justifying a utilitarian worldview that proclaims that the sacrifice of a comparative few is better for the long run for humanity as a species (even if this does end up being the ethical consequence of his actions with Falconia). No – in his final human moments, Griffith isn’t weighing the pros and cons of moral philosophy, instead, he’s making an emotionally motivated decision, one ultimately based in guilt, self loathing, and the inability to live with a broken heart.

I want to draw out (at length, I’m sorry) the motivations behind Griffith’s final decision to sacrifice the BotH and, most importantly, to sacrifice Guts. In this reading (which ofc is just one interpretation of this sequence, but one that I think hangs together rather well), I’m mainly suggesting two things: one, that this is, at its core, an act of self destruction, specifically self harm at its most extreme. And two, that when Griffith makes his sacrifice, he’s not choosing to finally attain his dream, it’s all about the choice to “cut [his] love asunder.”

In my view, this decision is a manifestation of Griffith’s impulse toward self harm finally functioning as a weapon pointing outwards instead of just inwards. In his sacrifice Griffith has been driven to such a point of unbearable emotional pain that self annihilation through harming the person he loves most in the world seems like the only option left – and so he decides to sacrifice Guts in order to not just hurt but utterly destroy himself.

So how does he get to this point?

Making the decision to hurt/kill Guts, more than the BotH (as we’ll get into), is the extreme endpoint of Griffith’s trauma and emotional damage (his self loathing, emotional dependency, etc.). Leading up to this he must reach what he thinks of as a point of no return, of unbearable emotional pain, and he must also have all other possible escapes and coping mechanisms stripped away. When he makes this decision, he is at the darkest, most emotionally damaged moment of his life.

As I see it, Griffith has two central mechanisms to cope with the pain and negative feelings he can’t deal with (usually his guilt): emotional repression/denial/rationalization (I’m considering this as a bundle) and self harm. The first is Griffith telling himself that the pain doesn’t exist; the second is telling himself that he deserves to feel it.

To recap, since reuniting with the BotH, Griffith has been grappling with the knowledge that he essentially has no worth to anyone anymore and that he is entirely dependent – not just because of his post-torture physical state, but more fundamentally because he’s realized that he’s in love with Guts.

It only makes sense, then, that his overhearing what he thinks is Guts’ plan to leave him again functions as the tipping point for that final, unbearable emotional burden of a broken heart. As a form of self protection, Griffith summons a cavalcade of coping mechanisms to attempt to avoid the heartbreak that comes with the recognition that he can’t fathom a life or a future without him.

Let’s run down how these defense mechanisms and the possibilities to escape his heartbreak are dismantled piece by piece, leading up to the moment the behelit opens:

When he first overhears Casca and Guts’ conversation, Griffith’s first instinct is to try to run away back to his dream, falling back on that familiar combo of denial and emotional repression. When he takes the cart and irrationally follows that fleeting vision of his dream, he’s once again trying to deny that Guts is more important, attempting to convince himself that the dream can still serve as an effective replacement for losing Guts.

However, once the cart is overturned and the dream vanishes, he is forced to accept that this dream of a kingdom is not an escape – it’s gone from his reach. All he has left to look forward to is a future without a dream and without Guts, a realization communicated through his hallucination of a domestic future life with Casca.

During this hallucination sequence he is still trying to rationalize away the pain of losing Guts forever. He tries to repress, tell himself that this is fine, it “isn’t so bad,” because he’s still trying to protect his heart.

But then the behelit reappears, first in his mindscape and then, afterwards, summoned by the threads of fate, and the possibility for his dream re-emerges in a tangible way. At this point, whether the behelit only serves as a physical reminder of living his dream, or whether he knows on some level the significance of its reappearance – that it means the real possibility of choosing his dream over Guts once and for all might once again be in reach – this marks a fundamental change in Griffith.

After this point he’s no longer calm, or determined, or resigned – he loses his composure completely and goes into hysterics. He’s not repressing or redirecting anymore, he just freaks out. So why is the behelit’s appearance what seems to trigger this? Personally, I read this as being the moment he truly realizes that the dream isn’t enough.

The look on his face in response to this physical reminder of the dream is nothing short of terror.

This is why, I think, immediately after glimpsing the behelit and awakening from his nightmare, Griffith tries to kill himself, as he lies, body broken, in the river. What makes the most sense to me in interpreting this sequence of events is that Griffith is confronting on a fundamental level that nothing is worth losing Guts, even the dream can’t replace him, and that ultimately nothing can.

This is the moment he accepts that he doesn’t even want to choose the dream anymore – and that, consequently, there’s nowhere left to hide from his pain.

In attempting to commit suicide he’s still trying to protect his heart; the only answer it seems to him, as a final escape, is choosing to die over living a life without Guts, dream or no dream – over living with the pain of a broken heart.

He, of course, fails, because fate has other plans, and the soul-shattering despair of his heartbreak steadily begins to creep over him (as the Eclipse monsters close in around him). At this point he is trying to hold back that unbearable, undeniable pain of knowing he is about to lose the only thing that truly matters to him, forever; this is the knowledge that he will not be able to cope with Guts leaving him again, that ultimately nothing can fill that void.

Once the behelit is actually in his hand, he begs Guts not to touch him – “I’ll never… never again with you…” – this desperate pleading is his final, futile attempt to protect himself, because he knows that at the touch of his hand on his shoulder, and all the visceral reminders of his emotional dependency bound up in that, he will be unable to hold back the floodgates of loss and despair that threaten to overwhelm him – the realization that no, in fact it isn’t “fine” to lose him forever, even if it means getting to live his dream after all.

I think you can read this scene in terms of Griffith realizing what’s about to happen or not, either works. If you buy that he does realize it, his begging Guts not to touch him has the added layer of desperate terror over the prospect of being forced to choose his dream over Guts once and for all.

When the behelit opens, this marks the utter breakdown of Griffith’s first coping mechanism – in this moment, he can no longer deny, repress, or escape from the pain of his broken heart. In and after this moment he is stripped bare, left utterly naked in his emotional vulnerability.

When he goes on to catch Guts as he falls from the pillar of heads, Griffith’s desperation is so nakedly on display it’s almost uncomfortable to look at. There are no masks left to shelter him from his emotional pain. He simply has to live it.

Despite thinking that Guts is going to leave him, that Guts was always disgusted by him, Griffith still, irrationally, impossibly, loves him and wants to save his life at any cost. He doesn’t want to choose the dream. He’s not yet ready to make the sacrifice – he still prioritizes his love for Guts over everything else, even though his heart is broken and the pain of it is clearly unbearable.

That’s where the Godhand’s guilt trip comes in.

Now, I read this sequence as working in a very particular way. In my view, their whole spiel here isn’t simply telling Griffith that the dream is still within reach – this is something I believe he’s already realized can’t replace losing Guts; it’s functionally irrelevant to help him cope with his pain at this point.

More importantly, what the Godhand is doing is persuading Griffith to make the sacrifice, by leaning on his guilt and self loathing. This may seem like splitting hairs, but this is the heart of my point: that Griffith isn’t being convinced to choose the dream, he’s being convinced to cut his love asunder.

They’re ultimately reminding him of what lies at the core of his dream: his guilt and monstrousness, in order to convince him that he ultimately deserves to feel the pain of sacrificing what he loves most, because he is, at his deepest, truest self, someone evil, dirty, cruel. They’re not getting him to choose the dream, they’re getting him to choose the sacrifice, and we can see this in the way the sequence is constructed.

What the Godhand is actually telling Griffith is that sacrificing his loved ones (not, ultimately, attaining the dream) provides an effective way out of this unbearable pain, because it will allow him to shed his own humanity: finally becoming the monster he always (thought he) was. This is ultimately what convinces Griffith to agree to the sacrifice.

As a reminder, at this point, Griffith has zero capacity to deal with the feelings of guilt that comes with the mountain of bodies the Godhand lays at his feet throughout this sequence. He’s emotionally vulnerable, his heart broken and his capacity for emotional repression at an all-time low. The Godhand also remove the possibility for Griffith to rationalize this long-standing guilt away (as being “for the greater good”) by telling him that all those choices along that road of corpses have been evil acts; that he is, fundamentally, already a monster: someone who deserves to reap what he’s sown.

As we’ll see, this tactic of leaning on Griffith’s self loathing isn’t strictly necessary to get him to sacrifice the Band, but it is necessary to get him to sacrifice Guts.

Basically, the guilt trip is designed to remind him of his inner monster, what he hates most about himself, in order to ultimately convince him to perpetrate an act of self harm, as both punishment and atonement for the actions he feels intense guilt over.

It’s not a coincidence that the same language keeps coming up in their emotional manipulation. This is who you are.

This particular reading of the guilt trip sequence circles back to the sentiment I opened with – that Griffith’s decision to make the sacrifice is not based in an ideology of utilitarianism. He’s not being convinced by the sunk cost fallacy (though this does play into it with respect to sacrificing the BotH) – he’s ultimately being convinced by being told that he is already a monster, and that accordingly the only thing he can do is embrace that self-loathing impulse to destroy everything he cares about – because this is who he is: someone who is, at his core, already evil.

(And, quick sidebar, I’m not sure I need to say this, but I don’t think anything Griffith did was actually evil up until his decision to make the sacrifice. He was just another leader who had to make hard decisions. This whole thing is just the Godhand playing into Griffith’s fucked up conception of himself.)

Remember that Griffith already associates the guilt of pursuing his dream with both self loathing and what he believes to be his own monstrousness. His willingness to put others in harm’s way for the sake of his dream is what he’s always hated most about himself and why he feels he deserves to suffer and be punished over it. We know he feels guilt about allowing people to be sacrificed for the sake of his dream, his “filthy schemes,” etc. – basically he feels guilt about putting others in harm’s way in order to further his own goals. These goals, of course, are not evil in themselves, but instead are ironically and perversely motivated by justifying those same acts as a sort of vicious circle.

And remember that he already has a pattern of coping with this guilt primarily through self harm, because this capacity for monstrousness is the greatest source of his self loathing. Having sex with a child predator, viciously self harming, and the risky behaviour that ultimately lands him in a torture chamber are just small steps on the road to “I sacrifice.” This final act is framed by the Godhand as the ultimate way to punish himself for continuing to pursue the dream, by embracing what is cruel, dirty, and loathsome about himself.

Up until this point, the guilt trip has been centred around Griffith’s general guilt over sacrificing people for his dream. It’s been designed around getting Griffith to agree to sacrifice the BotH, and so accordingly, this section of the guilt trip ends with this:

Here we see medium shots/closeups highlighting the faces of the BotH, who “should forgive [him],” because they have already agreed to lay down their lives for the sake of his dream. However, we also see Guts, who stands apart from the Band, depicted alone in extreme long shot in the corner of the page… and this is where the Godhand’s emotional manipulation gets really dirty.

The next pages are as follows:

This final section of the guilt trip is so utterly manipulative. The first handful of times I read this part I was really confused by why Void says this – don’t the Godhand know that the dream doesn’t matter anymore, that it’s no longer dazzling in Griffith’s eyes? That the junk has grown dull?

Without thinking any deeper about this, it’s easy to read this moment as Griffith choosing the dream over Guts – that Griffith is deciding that yes, it is more dazzling than anything. But of course, Griffith (and we as readers by this point) know it’s not. It’s been hammered home already that the dream pales in comparison, that nothing is worth losing Guts, not even for the sake of his dream.

What I think Void is actually doing here is subtly redirecting Griffith toward the deepest source of the pain he truly cannot bear: his loss and heartbreak. Void’s tactics here are indirect, he doesn’t say it outright, but he is gently pointing Griffith toward who in fact lies in the ruins of his dream, who is more dazzling than anything. It’s not a coincidence that “in the ruins of your dream” is overlaid on a panel of Guts’ face.

The way the guilt trip is laid out differentiates Griffith’s decision to sacrifice the Band from his decision to sacrifice Guts. Remember that from Griffith’s perspective, Guts has already decided to leave – he’s functionally no longer a member of the BotH. Guts didn’t want to be Griffith’s soldier, he wasn’t just meeting a fitting end for what he always wanted in life (to prop up Griffith’s dream).

Those constant reminders that he’s a monster aren’t ultimately for the purpose of getting Griffith to sacrifice the Band – in fact this is something he’s already effectively agreed to do a chapter earlier:

No, all of this been leading up to convincing Griffith to sacrifice Guts.

And, indeed, what’s promised to Griffith directly after Void’s declaration is “raven-black wings” – it’s the promise of becoming one of the Godhand, of becoming Femto, not of obtaining a castle or becoming emotionally repressed NeoGriffith. It’s the promise of becoming a monster. And in fact the kingdom doesn’t even rate a mention:

Griffith isn’t choosing the dream, in fact it doesn’t even rank anymore. The appeal is the sacrifice itself, not what comes after. No part of this sequence is designed to make choosing the dream appealing to Griffith, it’s all about the dream’s negative aspects: the self loathing, guilt, and monstrousness that come along with it. The Godhand is trying to convince Griffith that he’s already reached the point of no return, that he’s already made too many evil choices to come back from, and thus he deserves everything that comes along with making this choice.

What’s happening here is that Void is conflating Griffith’s guilt and his heartbreak into one jumbled mass of pain, and he’s telling him that he deserves to feel all of it, because he is, at his core, an evil person. The Godhand is telling Griffith that he deserves not only to have his heart broken, but to hurt the person he loves most, because he’s never been worthy of love in the first place, that he’s always been a monster. This is ultimately Griffith’s reason for choosing to sacrifice Guts – because he has been convinced that he deserves to feel the pain of sacrificing what he loves most.

So when Griffith finally acquiesces and accepts the sacrifice – finally saying “yes,” right after this, Griffith follows it up with the declaration that “You’re the only one… who made me forget my dream.” This sentiment is also, on the surface, really puzzling – because why does he say this of all things in this moment?

But what he says actually makes a lot of sense if you read this as being the moment Griffith realizes, at Void’s subtle prodding, that he’s not just going to have to sacrifice the Band, but that he’s going to have to sacrifice Guts as well. It’s working in direct response to Void’s “If even now, that castle… is in your eyes more dazzling than anything.” This is his answer to that question. No, it’s not – you’re the one who made me forget my dream. You’re the one who made the junk grow dull.

I don’t even read this as an accusation made in anger, there’s no malice in his face at all… his hatred is reserved for himself alone.

“You made me forget my dream.” Ever since the torture chamber, from when Griffith equates the dream with “junk,” to his terror at the prospect of the behelit, to the guilt trip over the road of corpses, the dream has been exclusively framed in negative, destructive terms. Pursuing it has been the most loathsome, unconscionable part of himself, the part he can’t live with, and in and through the guilt trip he’s just experienced, Griffith has fully recognized that.

In this sense, what might at first glance be read as spite (“you made me…”) actually functions as the complete opposite. Guts making him forget his dream was a good thing. You were my light out of the darkness. And that is why it has to be you.

This is actually Griffith’s final declaration of love. It could have just as easily been: “Yes. I love you most of all, more than anything in the world. It’s you I have to sacrifice to become a monster.”

This marks the extreme point of tension between love and hate, the “suffering so profound as to make someone rip himself apart.” This is loving someone so deeply that it utterly destroys you to hurt them.

And if you choose to read it this way, it sure does put a whole new spin on “The life you couldn’t take by your own hand, the life of the person you loved the most and hated the most!! You gave it to us!!” if the person you loved the most and hated the most are, in fact, different people. After all, he did actually give them both of their lives. And really, the only time we ever see Griffith’s hatred actually being directed at Guts was for all of about five seconds after he rescued him from the torture chamber.

“You’re the only one…Who made me forget my dream.” The look on his face here is one of acceptance and self loathing, not one of anger, spite, or accusation. His sad smile points directly back at those others we’ve already seen as Griffith recognizes and accepts, with utter self contempt, this aspect of himself – that he is someone willing to do wicked and cruel things that he hates and wants to punish himself for. It’s got that same sense of knowingness to it too – it’s that final confirmation of “yes, you were right, I am a fucking monster. This is the proof.”

To restate my point, it isn’t that the Godhand’s guilt trip convinces Griffith that finally grasping his dream can fill the void of his loss and heartbreak. To Griffith, the appeal of making the sacrifice doesn’t lie in his being able to finally choose the dream over Guts once and for all – it’s in being able to become a monster (i.e. someone willing to do selfish, evil deeds) in order to bury his heart. The guilt the Godhand lays over him throughout this sequence in this sense actually functions as a sort of salve, a reminder that this is, at his core, what he’s always been.

The Godhand is giving him one final escape from his pain – the annihilation of his unbearable, painful humanity. If Griffith is in no position to attempt suicide bodily, then doing it spiritually is the next best option: to destroy his soul, his humanity, in and through his sacrifice, by burying his heart in the body of a monster. And by monster I don’t mean Griffith knows he’s going to become Femto per se, just that he has been pushed to the point of believing that he is someone capable of committing a true act of evil in sacrificing the person he loved most.

At this point, Griffith has nowhere else to turn – his capacity to deny or repress his feelings is gone, his choice to kill himself as an escape has been taken away from him, and he knows he can’t live on with the intense pain and guilt that threaten to overwhelm him. The only answer left is the inward-outward pointing sword of self destruction.

To sum up, there are four main reasons (at least for the purposes of this meta)* that Griffith makes the sacrifice, which are all jumbled together in a complicated, self-loathing mess:

It allows him to justify the deaths that weigh on him by finally achieving his dream

It validates what he thinks Guts always thought he was (“You believe that, don’t you?” / “You of all people”)

It allows him to “atone” for the actions he feels guilt over by self harming/dirtying/punishing himself by hurting the person he loved the most

It provides the possibility of living with the pain of his heartbreak by becoming someone truly evil who seemingly wasn’t ever worthy of love in the first place

*Despite my saying this, there’s actually still a ton to say on this topic – but since they don’t strictly fit this meta’s argument, I’ll just briefly mention a few additional reasons (also motivated by self loathing) that Griffith agrees to the sacrifice: the chance to become able bodied/physically superior (and not just equal) to Guts (a God with wings to “soar in the heavens”), the self-destructive appeal of finally making a selfish choice (vs. “for their sakes”), etc.

Basically, in this moment Griffith is embracing that deciding to become a monster, at the highest pinnacle of self loathing, is doing the worst thing he could possibly imagine and killing the one thing he loved most and thought he had left in his life (“take all you have left”) – turning that sword outward onto Guts in order to turn it most damningly back on himself. Through this act he has actually become the monster he always thought he was.

Because, let’s be real, Griffith’s decision to sacrifice Guts is an evil choice: he is doing harm to another person from a selfish, morally indefensible place. While the BotH’s sacrifice can still be rationalized away as their meeting a fitting end – a death they had already agreed to in service of “the greater good/dream” – sacrificing Guts is the actual step he needed to take to bury his heart and self destruct completely.

Griffith’s decision is still coming from a place of extreme self loathing and psyche-shattering pain. We may completely understand and sympathize with him in his final human moment; he is after all motivated by guilt, self hatred, and a broken heart – but his sacrifice particularly of Guts is still crossing a moral line. This act can’t be justified in any moral or ideological sense, only in an emotional one.

This why the sacrifice of one’s most dearly beloved (not soldiers) is necessary for apostlehood in the first place. In other words, to become a monster, you need to hate yourself so much that you’re willing to hurt the person you love most, in order to not just hurt but utterly destroy yourself – to turn the sword outward in order to turn it back inward once and for all.

The Afterword: Femto and NeoGriffith

Reading Griffith’s choice to sacrifice Guts as an act of self loathing also provides an interesting perspective on Femto if we read him as a manifestation of Griffith’s last, self-destructive human impulse: a crystallization of his last tear shed. Because if we read Femto as having become basically that same inward/outward-pointing sword, he is essentially an embodiment of Griffith’s self loathing, self harm, as well as his capacity for cruelty, monstrousness, and guilt.

In that sense, Griffith’s acts of cruelty as Femto are all manifestations of that same self-loathing impulse to not just hurt those around him, but to ultimately hurt himself by lashing out at those he cares about – to make Guts and Casca hate him in order to justify the hatred he feels toward himself. In that sense it makes some kind of ironic sense for him to keep Guts and Casca alive, as a parallel masochistic reminder to Guts’ of the “wound” he left him.

Even if OG!Griffith is not actually in there somewhere to actually experience that pain in whatever capacity (though he clearly is, his heart was buried, not destroyed), Femto can still be read as a crystallization and embodiment of that final act of self hatred, which becomes truly monstrous/evil when it’s finally directed outward at others.

And if Femto is Griffith’s self harm personified, then it only makes sense that NeoGriffith is an embodiment of his other coping mechanism – denial and emotional repression.

And, let me also point out, both coping mechanisms are set up to be taken down by the recognition that Guts loved him all along.

Thank you for reading,

Thoughts, critiques, and disagreements are very much welcome

[iglooface]

My whole school career, despite how short it may be thus far, I have always been complimented and received positive remarks about how smart I was and how talented I was. They all find it strange that these are not traits I am proud of.

I grew up with depression, anxiety, and insomnia. My three original traits that have come to rule my life. I inherited mild depression from my mother, and anxiety and insomnia from my father. In all of my years in school except for the last I have been bullied mercilessly for everything about my being. It would vary from my hair, my style of clothing, my physical being, calling me ugly, exclusion, death threats, abandonment, being called names and excessively pointing out my mistakes (surprise! I'm human unlike most bastards I meet). I also had chronic nose bleeds, so from the beginning everyone was always grossed out by me for bleeding from my face nearly every day (most of my clothes are stained with my own blood because of this and I'm honestly too broke to afford new clothes very often). Even teachers and my own parents would put me down for nearly everything I did for one reason or the other; nothing I ever did was right. And to add more I'm often put after my sisters' needs and wants. I've never been prioritized.

I was, and still am, a sickly child. I've technically had my heart stopped and been dead twice before and I had a handful of major surgeries before my sophmore year in highschool. My doctors don't ever listen to me and they think I'm dramatic when I bring up actual chronic symptoms I suffer from.

As a child, we moved around a lot and so I switched schools often and was never able to make or keep friends. I come from a long line of verbally and emotionally abusive teachers who went on without consequence whilst I get in trouble for trying to fix myself. In grade school alone I had all but two of my teachers quit their jobs and/or be replaced after that year, if not during the middle.

Children are highly impressionable, and so these kinds of events did lead up to me thinking it was somehow my fault. Logically I know this not to be true, but impressions and mental illnesses are not logical.

In seventh grade alone, I had gone through 12 different prescriptions for pain and different types of birth control to regulate my period and my chronic cramps. It's highly likely that I had, and still have, endometriosis, yet my doctors are always reluctant to perform any blood tests on me simply because I am young, as if being young makes it entirely impossible for me to have health issues.

My periods were unstable to a point that I'd end up having one for thirteen days, or months apart. Given, young girls with periods often experience irregular cycles, but mine kept landing me in the hospital which is never a good sign.

I was bullied that year to a point that I tried to kill myself and failed, and I managed to avoid my parents finding out. This was the beginning of my incredibly high drug tolerance. At the end of that year, my favorite teacher was killed in a car accident.

The following year, it was found out I had massive ovarian cysts that were increasing my insomnia and put me in agonizing pain nearly every moment of my life. But my doctors refused to take action because I was young. That year I was further emotionally abused by a handful of my teachers. One of them, worse than others, was fired during the beginning of the third trimester of the school year. Her replacement, a long term substitute, was even worse. She had bullied and abused the class so hard that kids had killed themselves and I ended up getting conversion disorder.

Conversion disorder is a mental disorder in where my body cannot handle stress. My brain doesn't know how to function and deal with high stress situations, so instead it shuts off my physical body. Symptoms vary from person to person, but mine are on more of the extreme end. It varies from extreme memory loss, seizures, not breathing, choking on white foam produced by my body, screaming unconsciously, blacking out, temporary amnesia, and paralysis. This is a condition that I cannot control under any circumstances, and it truly dictates my life.

Now my mom had gone to the principal (the school cycles through five in a single school year because of a whole lot of drama) to report this teacher and get a new one. And instead of acting reasonably, the principal quite literally told us she wouldn't look into a replacement because it wouldn't change anything.

And, oh, how wrong she was.

I had previously had mild anxiety and depression from previous life experiences, but this year pushed me to be anxious to a fault (granting me a new stutter, hours long panic and anxiety attacks, migraines, etc), and pushed me into such a strong depression I became highly suicidal and went into an emotional shock. And because of this I also gained PTSD, which is a whole trip within itself.

Freshman year was a wreck. Another one of my middle school teachers had died; she died from cancer and was one of very few people who were ever nice to me. I was being bullied on a whole new level of horrid, and I was flunking every class I had been in. My conversion disorder episodes became do frequent and so severe that the school actually kicked me out illegally for about two months before they continued my education on independent study. That year my dog was put down. And normally that wouldn't be such a big deal except for the part she was quite literally my only friend for three years.

Even worse; I was in recovery after one of my more major surgeries to get my ovarian cysts removed to help with my pain and sleeping problems. I was fragile and under the influence of strong drugs when I decided to take my dog on a walk around my property for the first time in a month because I had been on bed rest. She had seen my neighbor, and gotten freaked out by him (he radiates massive pedophile vibes) and so she jumped on him. Now this over privileged scumbag thought the appropriate response was to threaten to shoot my dog if he ever saw her again no matter the circumstance, and proceeded to curse me out profusely all while I tried to apologise and make it right.

My dog had become a liability because of this man and we had to put her down. Take in mind she was an amazing dog, and had never disobeyed me. She was protective of me as she had been since we adopted her and was genuinely the best thing that has ever happened to me. She'd check on me when I cried and lay with me when I was sick, and was there for me more often that my actual parents were.

The next year, I was bullied slightly less, but I had a great ordeal of friend drama and my fair amount of fights with the office staff. One of my friends, who I thought was close to me, had threatened to kill me after I offended her exactly once. I had a bad day after another episode and she had built this reputation of not feeling and being unattached to the real world. I wasn't in the mood to deal with people and when she asked me if I was okay I questioned why she cared. That was it. Later I had apologized because I had come to terms that I was in the wrong for dismantling her emotions, but she decided to take it too far.

One of my teachers was permanently removed from the school for having nudes on a school device, and they brought in a long term substitute. This was about when my PTSD really started to kick me in the nuts, so I went back on independent study to complete the year. My only other friends moved away and my significant other had killed himself after killing himself shortly after telling me he loved me.

I don't expect people to understand the kind of psychological damage this causes to a person, but I can tell you that it hurts.

I was referred to a continuation school in my area for flunking both years of highschool, and this continuation school had a bad reputation of being troubled kids and violent beings.

I get there, I spend my year being amazed by how nice people are to me. This is the first year of my life I have ever been treated like a human, and it was by the people society had deemed misfits. I had a great year; I made friends and built connections to people. And then my friends left me, and my favorite teacher was fired simply for being a first year. My other teacher left the school year early for maternity leave, and, guess what, was replaced by a long term substitute. I don't think I've ever panicked as hard as I did in those months. Similar timing, same school subject, similar classroom. All of the stressors were right and I nearly fell apart at the seams. I had more frequent and severe migraines and anxiety attacks. My hands would shake in fear so hard I couldn't write, which was bad because the classes I had with that teacher were exclusively note taking and online courses. This substitute wasn't a bad person. He was competent and polite and was always helpful, but my mental illnesses and brain blocks caused me to lose the opportunity to work with them successfully. In the last trimester I tried to kill myself three times, and I accidentally overdosed on drugs about 14 times over the whole year. I almost died a lot by my own doing and it was horrible.

Children need stability to survive and develop normally and I had been deprived of both, as well as emotional stability and positive reinforcement.

Now, during these times I had coping methods. I draw and write professionally to distract myself from the physical pain in my being if not just stress plain and simple. I watched documentaries and studied nearly every subject during my sleepless nights. My coping method was learning, practicing, evolving, and then teaching. My IQ had beat the range of average and I've had a reading level ranked at post college since I was in middle school. And this fall I'm a senior and I've only been ranked higher and higher each year. I've always gotten extra credit on every individual assignment and I've always been too of my class. My teachers love my art, and I had exceeded my professional art teacher within weeks of knowing her. I see, I practice, I perfect, I personalize every trait and skill I want and find intriguing. I study and develop to keep myself from remembering the agony I'm in.

I have a really wide and extensive knowledge on almost every subject and culture I've come across from, because being awake and learning for days on end beats being awake and in agony for days on end.

Along with my severe insomnia, it becomes apparent that I've seen more sunrises than the amount of years most adults have been alive. My walks under the starlight and the moon at odd hours? Amazing. Laying in a field at night and listening to all the little creatures and the coyotes howling in the distance? Perfect. Stargazing in my driveway on a clear night in the winter? Cold to my bones but I'd never trade the memory. Walking home in the rain at 11 a.m.? It's made me wiser. Taking a moment to breathe in and feel nature has sometimes saved me.

My bones definitely creak; mostly because I have juvenile arthritis, but I also feel ancient in my mind.

The wear and tear my body has faced for such a physically young being is unnatural. I can't describe the strange feelings of almost bleeding to death or stomach ulcers brought on by stress.

Those weird feelings of my bones cracking wrong or my knees suddenly giving out.

I've seen more of the Galaxy from here on earth than most adults have ever seen in a poster.

The meteor showers, the shooting stars, the solar flares, the cycles of the moon, the constellations? They accompany me on my walk down to my death.

Even better, looking up daily to love the clouds. I've seen amazing things and infinite days in mere minutes.

The feeling of cool streams and powerful rivers. Almost drowning in the ocean on multiple occasions, feeling the rain on my face. Those are the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Hearing the cry of infantile wildlife and mothering it feels like an old friend of mine. I cannot emphasize on how many creatures I've fostered back to health.

I've seen life and I've seen death, and quite too much of it for my age. The wars, the shootings, the stabbings and car accidents. People hanging themselves and people who die clear well before their body does. The births i e witnessed, the blooming of Meadows, the appearance of the new foxes.

Aiding things that normally need help and defending those who have lost their shields. Befriending things considered monsters. Providing a moment of peace for animals searching for the bridge of mortality.

The comfort I bring to people, the therapy I provide from listening and accepting, it was never something I had received myself.

My therapist diagnosed me a sociopath path as an ignorant response to seeing my lack of attachment to people. Technically she's not wrong, I'm a mild sociopath.

And before anyone gets weirded out, sociopaths do have feelings. They are simply harder to reach and read by strangers or common uninvolved people. Psychopaths pretend to care when they don't really. They are violent and unpredictable. Do not confuse us, do your research.

My English teacher this year had made a remark about me being an old soul, and oh, how right she was. I am ancient and people notice.

Life has been forever as I have been forever. My heart is still there, just ground to a fine sand and stored somewhere safer.

I'm tired, of course from my worrying for the human race and how much trouble people are creating these days. The people, they see me and tell me to smile, yet I have nothing to smile for.

My pain killers are border line overdose and all they do is make me a little dizzy. The last time I had pain relief was five years ago in a hospital. I had been in so much pain I hadn't slept in 17 days and they out me on morphine. I was only 12 years old and it was then it had become apparent I'd never be able to truly rest.

Somehow, I rest anyways. I find peace somewhere. Maybe in my hallucinations, maybe in my dreaming and dissociating, maybe in the way the trees speak. Listen to them, the trees, they can tell you more than a life time of science and precision.

I exist, not to overpower someone else's suffering, but instead to offer safety and support. I share so much to emphasize how much I understand. I'm not here as competition to see who can suffer more, but instead I am here to offer a helping hand to keep other people out of the pit of depression I often find myself in.

[happyhollow-mellowmarsh]

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“Hey, everyone! We’re back with another interview with my friends! This time we’re hanging out at Whimsy’s sky castle, and lemme just say this place is cool as heck!” This YouTube video doesn’t have any intro at all, cold opening with the camera panning around a regal-looking white room.

Completing its 360, the camera alights upon a young woman with short teal hair, futuristic gray clothing, and a witch’s hat. A microphone levitates near her, picking up her words. “As always, I’m Erika Ljunggren, psychic YouTuber and Trouble’s apprentice. Introduce yourselves, you two!”

With a gesture from Erika L’s skinny metal wand, the camera pans over and back to reveal two other women sitting on the couch behind her. The microphone darts over to them as well. A tall brunette with a spiky crown and a shorter woman with a big hat, a scarf, and an apron, both wearing glasses. 

The former gets up from her seat, poses, teleports a few feet in the air and then lands in another pose, loudly announcing in her monotone "I'm the magical girl of the cosmos, Kimoto Erika, apprentice of Whimsy."

The latter, on the other hand, remains in her seat and watches. After giggling quietly at Erika K's antics, she looks back to the camera. "H-Hello... My name is... R-Rada Orlov... I'm... Beacon's apprentice..." She gives a little wave.

Erika L welcomes them both with a grin.

Then, turning to Erika K, the YouTuber asks, “What’s it like apprenticing under Whimsy?”

"It’s lots of fun, and I’m learning lots. I like it here,” she responds “I’m very grateful to Miss Trick, Mr Treat, and Miss Trouble for everything they’ve done for me to be here. And I’m extremely grateful to Boss for giving me this opportunity. The castle is really cool." 

She pauses for a moment, leaning her head back slightly before tipping it forwards once more. "Boss is a really skilled witch, so I've been able to cover a lot of ground under them. I think that I made the best choice for me." The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a slight smile.

Erika L then turns to Rada, the microphone moving gently over with her gaze. “What’s it like apprenticing under Beacon?”

"It's been... r-really nice... Granny Beacon is... a-amazing..." Rada fidgets with end of her scarf, drawing the long material up into her lap. "I, um... u-used to be... m-more nervous... than I am now and... s-scared of a lot... of different things... b-but... sh-she's been... very patient with me... a-and she's taught me... a lot... b-both as an apprentice... a-and as a person..."

“What have the two of you been up to lately, magic-wise? Any fun projects in the works?” asks Erika L.

Erika K hums, holding her hands up, index fingers and thumbs pointing outwards towards the ceiling far corners. "I’ve been experimenting with combo-ing my elements. Trying to get them working together can be a bit tricky, depending on which ones I'm trying with. I’ll get there eventually though." 

Flicking her wrists, her hands now spread fully chop down diagonally. "Also, with Mr Elliot’s help, I’ve forged a holy blade that shimmers with stardust." She leans forwards and holds a hand up beside her mouth dropping her voice just slightly. "When the goddesses approve of a strike it deals extra secret damage."

"I've also been... practicing with... combining elements..." Rada adds, nodding along with what Erika K says. "It can... b-be difficult... but also fun... seeing what kind... of different effects... are possible... i-if you just... put your mind to it..."

"A-As for, um, projects... I don't think... a-anything I'm doing is... a-as exciting as Miss Kimoto, but..." Rada bites her bottom lip for a moment in hesitation before continuing. "I've, um... I've been working on... a spell that... m-makes it easier for... spirits to communicate with... a-and interact with... th-their loved ones...  s-so that a ghost... a-and their family or friends... h-have a chance... to grieve together... Th-Then they can... pass on peacefully... a-and the people still living... h-have closure..."

“I mean, that’s pretty cool too! Just, y’know, in a different way!” Erika L nods approvingly. “Speaking of elements and combos thereof, what are your favorites that you've learned so far?”

Erika K steeples her fingers and places her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her hands as she leans forwards. "Mh.... I think I still like Celestial best. I think it’s always going to be my favourite, there's so much you can do with it. But teleporting has been really handy too. Trying to combine both with Space for Special Warping is a bit trickier, but I’m failing good so I can figure it out. I like all the magic I've learnt though, Earth makes me feel like a strong bender from the western eastern based anime. I'm hoping to try and see if sand and metal still fall under its belt or if I'll need to expand my roster first." 

The mic darts back to Rada. "I, um... r-really like working with Emotion magic... a-and I'm having a lot of fun with Music magic as well... Combining the two together... c-can be powerful... e-emotionally, that is, um... s-since music can... affect people... so much... A-Although Music and... L-Life magic is... a-also fun... l-like in, um... th-the cartoon with... th-the magic mouse... a-and the mops..." She tugs up the edge of her scarf, looking embarrassed. Way to out yourself for recreating The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Rada.

Erika K murmurs a little "I know that western anime," nodding along with Rada's words. She leans back into her seat, her lips quirking into a smile. "Death magic is still just a bud, but thanks to Rada I'd already started thinking of the sort of expanded uses for it. I even know some I wouldn't have thought of beforehand. I think learning a magic that one of us has already learnt is extra fun because it means we get to work together, and with peer reviews and sessions we can learn faster and better. And we get to hang out at the same time."

Although Rada’s mouth is covered, the corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile as Erika K talks about Death magic. "Y-Yes... I like... h-having magic... w-we can both do... I-It's a lot... easier to learn things... wh-when we're working together... a-and think of things... th-that I wouldn't consider... o-on my own..." Rada shifts in place before continuing. "I have a... b-better understanding of it... s-since starting to learn... Life magic... I-It's not as... s-scary or violent... It's... natural..." She adds, feeling like she needs to defend it.

Another nod from the interviewer. “Nice, nice! There’s so many elements out there, and each one is so versatile! And that’s not even everything a witch has at their disposal, either. Tell me about your wands!”

Shifting her posture into something more alert, Erika K claps once, a big smile on her face. She opens her purse and pulls her wand out. The act itself is comical, with the contrast in the size of the wand versus the purse itself. Thank you Space Magic. She balances the wand on her flat palms above her head, smiling brightly. 

"Last Laugh is super cool. I can fly on it, it has a detachable strap for easy carrying, and it makes a really good prop for physical comedy. It's got really good range as a prop, and it's nice and sturdy. Plus I can do this with it-" Hopping out of her seat she begins to twirl the gun shaped wand around, although for only a short while. Once done she drops back down resting her wand on her lap. "Also I can use it to fire off magic easier then-" She flexes, "these guns."

"It s-suits you..." Rada mumbles, the curve of her cheeks still visible above the edge of her scarf tinged with pink, which only deepens when Erika K flexes.

"M-Mine is, um... m-more specialized, I th-think... th-than Miss Kimoto's..." Rada squeaks as she pulls out her wand from a pocket beneath her apron.

In comparison to the rifle-wand, the one Rada holds up is tiny and thin, only a foot in length. The white porcelain lily-of-the-valley plant is fragile-looking, with blood red enamel filling in the gaps where the vase-like handle is cracked, and tiny red gemstones lining the rims of the bell flowers as well as the veins of its skeletal silver leaves.

"It helps me... protect myself o-or... other people... i-if things are going badly... a-and I've been hurt..." She explains, bringing it closer to her chest as she nibbles on her bottom lip. "I was nervous at first... th-that it would break but... i-it's stronger than it looks..."

“Wow, they’re both so cool, huh? Thanks again for agreeing to come out here today, you two.” Erika L brings the camera in close, beaming at the viewer. “Remember, folks, we can only do so much with magic alone. Think about what you can do to help the environment. What your government can do. We’re making progress, with everyone’s help!”

Special thanks to Saga, Cherry, and Mel for writing this post!

Happy Hollow: Mellow Marsh is a tumblr submission trials game with Discord ooc and a Discord thread server, and the sequel game to Happy Hollow. This game is 18+ with the exception of returning players. We will be accepting a cast of 16-18 people including mod ocs, and characters should be aged 16-24. The events of the previous game are not public knowledge to characters, so catching up on the last game is not necessary!

Apps close on April 12th. That’s only two weeks away!! A three day extension is available if you ask a mod through dm.

About || How to play || Application || FAQ || Hopefuls || Hopefuls chat

[jojuarez26]

We found love in a hopeless place part 3

Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC

Mature content and strong language

I do not own any Part of Divergent

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @frecklefaceb @lunaschild2016 @jaihardy @captstefanbrandt @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @sparklemichele @ericdauntless @ariwolff14 @badassbaker @mom2reesie @readsalot73 @dani5102 @scorpio2009 @kenzieam @emmysrandomthoughts

I sat in utter disgust horror and blind rage as Max told me the story of the sins of a husband, father, brother and son. It took every last bit of self restraint I had to not load my unregistered, non-service pistol and marching to Candor and sending those sick son of bitches straight to the depths of hell.

However it took an even greater strength to not obliterate half of a factions for allowing the continued blind devotion to corupt morales and truly vile, disgusting human beings.

So hard in fact I picked up the phone to give Jack Kang a rather large and nasty piece of my mind. It took Max physically man handling the phone away from me and threatening to make me factionless, to stop me.

I was actually fully prepared to deal with the repercussions of my actions until he made me see that it would be better to serve a scorching hot justice that will change society as opposed to a cold justice that changes nothing.

To add insult to injury on a rather emotionally taxing day I received the first solid, concrete evidence to my personal investigation.

I am relieved that I do somewhat hold to the belief that patients is a virtue. I want one hundred percent proof of the treacherous bitches betrayal, lies, extortion and fuckery of other people's lives.

When I did have it all, she will wish she was dead when I am done with her. Brutal, cruel and life devastating revenge is after all my speciality.

It was getting late and I was starting to come close to refusing to have a rational mind and sound judgement. So I shut it all done for the day and headed for the mess hall.

The entire faction became infinitely more silently than normal when I made my entrance. You could've heard a pin drop in the faction known for and synonymous for it's loud, rowdy and over the top way of life.

Every set of eyes where on me as I marched to the chow line. Normally it gets ridiculous quiet for a moment or two and the faction carries on with business as usual.

Not this time. I seen a display of every emotion from pride, loathing, fear, curiosity and every fucking thing in between.

What.the.fuck? Have they all finally gone brain dead from their ignorance and taking one too many blows to the head.

"What in the hell are all you obnoxious, dumb fucks looking at!" I roared letting my murderous gaze scan the large room. My hand crept to the weapon holstered on my hip.

A strong large hand came down on my shoulder.

"Eric, don't." Max commanded in a deadly tone

Max turned and addressed our temporarily brain damaged faction

"I don't know what is causing all you idiots to have a temporary brain malfunction, but if you don't all go back to minding your own boring, sorry excuse business, I will fine every idiot in the entire faction seventy- five points for insubordination."

The cafeteria instantly roared back to life. I turned with a deadly expression demanding immediate explanation. Max's eyes and body language gave nothing away

"Not now. Grab two trays and go enjoy a peacefully meal with Samantha. That's an order not a request soldier," he said with a solemn look on his face.

Begrudgingly I nodded and followed my commanding officers orders. I still felt uneasy as the weight of my factions stares and whispers started to bore holes in my self control. Never in my entire life have I felt so unnerved by other people's thoughts or opinions of me. But this, this felt different. This felt like a conspiracy theory and I was the guest of honour. Quickly I grabbed two trays and stormed off in the direction of the infirmary.

I was thankful that most of my anger had faded by the time I arrived at my destination. Samantha didn't need or deserve the side affects of my frequent paranoia or the hostility I carried around like a child does their favorite toy.

I stood in the doorway examining her features with my Erudite curiosity on full display. Usually I fought and controlled my ingrained tendencies of my former faction. Not today, not in this moment. I indulged in a deserved moment of giving into my natural urges.

Her dark hair was splayed out on the pillow like a halo. I took in her soft feminine features and reveled in her simple beauty.

I knew instantly why she had never caught my attention in the past. She carried herself in a manner that manifested as forgettable or unremarkable to keep unwanted attention at bay. However, once she did catch your attention is was quickly realized she was anything but unremarkable.

She had been twitching restlessly since before my observations started at the door.

By midday with the lowering of anxiety meds and meds to help ease symptoms of withdraw she had become agitated and aggressive

Samantha had tried to check herself out and attempted to engage in potentially physically harmful behavior.

Right now she looked sad and terribly small. As if she felt my eyes on her she had started to stir. Her eyes flung open with fear and confusion.

When her gaze landed on me you could visibly see her relax and recognition of her surroundings. A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

Her eyes brightened as I slowly approached her. She tried to hide the excitement building in her eyes as she became aware of my presence. I set the trays of food down and stood next to her. Slowly and carefully I reached out for her hand.

"You came back," she said quietly with surprise in her eyes and gratitude in her voice.

"Of course I did. If nothing else I am a man of my word."

I used my thumb to draw small circles on the back of her hand as a small sign of reassurance.

" I never got a chance to thank you for last night."

She lowered her eyes and turned her head. I can see embarrassment and shame slowly start to settle in her eye

"Sam. Samantha please look at me," I gentle squeezed her hand. I tried to use a calm soothing yet serious tone.

As stubborn as she was Sam thought closing her eyes in defiance would really get her somewhere. My lips quirked up slightly and I laughed to myself in my head. Cute. She must have forgotten who Eric the leader of Dauntless was.

"Samantha that was an order not a request," I stated in a flat tone.

With a small sigh and an irritated huff as a last little act of defiance, she blinked her eyes several times before finally meeting mine.

A sea of stormy emotions raged in two beautiful deep emerald eyes. I could see she was trying to slam a brick wall into place preparing for disappointment and rejection. After years of being let down and brutal rejection she was terrified to even hope someone might actually give a shit if she lived or died.

I ran my hand down her cheek before gently gripping her chin to keep her head up and eyes on me.

"Samantha do not ever thank me again for my support, kindness, lended strength or otherwise do you understand me. When I said you would never be alone again I meant it. Do you understand me."

"Eric, I won't hold you to a promise you made to a lunatic girl while in the heat of the crazy moment of trying to save her ridiculously weak minded self."

She tried desperately but unsuccessfully to turn her head away from me, settling on just closing her eyes when she realized her attempts where in vein. I gave her a brief moment to gather her composure before I spoke again.

"Are you done wallowing in your self inflicted pity party?" I asked sternly.

Her eyes snapped open anger slowly replacing sadness and defeat

"Good. Now you listen and you listen very carefully. I will only tell you this once and I will not repeat myself. Do you understand me?" I stared intently and demandingly in her eyes.

When I seen I had her undivided attention and complete understanding I continued.

"When I looked into your eyes for the first time last night I seen a lonely, broken girl desperately hoping that somebody, anybody would give a damn if she lived or died."

The tears where welling in her eyes and I suddenly had to pause. My chest started to feel like it was caving in on itself. My instincts where screaming at me to shut down and not reveal anymore of myself to this stranger.

I began a silent war in my head. My conscious, something I thought I had long since killed and buried, was begging me to keep going, let it all out. Learn to trust again it said. However the side of myself that protects itself and had long since built a wall around itself, was all but putting a deadly choke hold on my tongue forbidding me to utter the words stuck on the tip of my tongue.

I looked back into Samantha's eyes and seen doubt and self depreciation clouding those beautiful emerald eyes. Fuck it. I'm Eric fucking Coulter, no one is ever going to hurt me. I forced myself to continue.

"I will be nothing but honest with you. I am a cruel, selfish bastard who generally doesn't or won't give two fucks about someone else," the tears started to gather in her eyes.

"But for some reason the universe has a different plan when it comes to you." Now confusion.

"I give a damn about you. I have no idea why, but I do. I will never leave you alone again. Don't be mistaken, I do not promise to be nice, I'm not. I don't promise to be sweet, considerate, to put your feelings before my own or any of that shit. I'm just not that person." I felt a weight lifting off my chest as I continued speak.

"What I do promise is to never leave you alone, protect you from everyone, including yourself. I will demand for you to be strong, brave, loyal and honest and accept nothing less than one hundred and twenty percent. But, I will never let you fall."

The tears that had been gathering in her eyes finally released themselves and slid down her cheeks. She sat up and threw her arms around my neck in an iron grip. I stiffened at the initial contact. Not a person who usually wants to give or receive physical contact other than purely sexual. Viewing at as to personal and intimate.

But something strange shifted inside of me while Samantha clung to me as if her life depends on it. Without my permission my body reacted against my will. My arms wrapped around her and held on tight. My desire to keep her safe and feel cared for overriding my self preservative instinct to not let anyone get to close.

Slowly I let her go and leaned back to look at her. The sheer power of raw emotion on display in her eyes was too much. The fear of someone actually evoking enough emotions in me to have the power or capabilities to hurt me was suddenly entirely too much.

I abruptly stood up off the bed like her touch just set me on fire. Sam's eyes went wide.

"Remeber. I told you I am not a nice guy. I will see you tomorrow."

I bent over places a ghost of a kiss on her forehead and all but ran for my life to get home. What in the actual fuck am I doing?

[chariflare]

end of work week so No Brain Energy for a “full post” so here’s just like. a brain dump of stuff i liked and disliked about 7 deadly sins (s1). pretty spoiler-y

dislikes (so that we end the post on the most tasty part of the meal)

they give melio.das a flaw of “repeated sexual offender” with the same level of gravitas and plot-irrelevance that ya authors make their self-insert protagonists “clumsy” (i.e. it’s written as a “flaw” but doesn’t affect the plot and is often used for ““comedic effect””). unlike clumsiness though, repeatedly groping women should get a person arrested. thanks

elizabeth is still a damsel

jericho. not the feminist take that the author thinks she is. awful

ultimately the cool female villains turn out to be not that strong or important, and also get love interest’d with members of the main heroic cast (& both’s motives depend on a man)

depending on how her character arc ends up diane’s obsession with wishing she wasn’t a giant is kinda uncomfortable

i don’t mind that elaine looks young-ish but i find it uncomfortable that she has an anime kid voice to top it all off (in jp...?)

gil.thunder’s side-switch wasn’t appropriately established and his og character sucks. years of acting as a moustache-twirling bishie villain don’t appear to have affected his psyche in a meaningful way, and it’s impossible to come away knowing what he’s supposed to act like now

final villains of the first arc are BORING (i think they get more characterisation after they come back to life lmao)

usual shonen bullshit that is both a draw to the show and also makes threat levels kind of ridiculous and non-existent after a certain point (getting bogged down in endless fights, people coming back to life, refusal to acknowledge that maybe their society’s awful power structures are the problem, rapidly changing definition of “the most powerful villain EVER”, etc.)... all encompassed in one pig death fakeout

the weird fatphobic king thing

tiddy outfits. (though i don’t mind didane’s actually?)

more generalised misogyny

the most important hetero ships this season are mediocre

if you know king arthur shit you will know that everyone’s loosely based off of characters from arthurian myth. if you don’t know you will be so pissed when king arthur the 16yo sports anime character shows up to be like “YOUR NEXT ARC IS HERE”

holy SHIT the second opening song is so bad. it’s so bad y’all (the the first op for comparison)

likes

all the characters are adult colleagues (above everything else) and they act like it. (they’re... kind of found family nakama but there’s a bit more there.) they’re all unique, respected, practiced masters of their craft from the beginning of the story

gula & jericho for the when they were threatening were REALLY cool. i am so psyched at the thought of a random minor young female villain who is so badass & dedicated to the evil cause she’s willing to enter a near-death state to chase some random losers into hell. gula’s outfit slaps

(cw: suicide) ban is a really neat character. he’s like... an interpretation of a “vampire curse”. he was never really happy before he achieved immortality (seeking it only because ”if you live long enough, something good might happen to you eventually, i guess”), and getting it (by accident) only made him Worse - more self-destructive and more isolated from the people around him. he often can’t bring himself to care about much of anything, other people don’t care about him, and ultimately his existence is so fucked up and he’s laden with so much guilt that he doesn’t care about himself either. but he’s also a fun guy! incredibly powerful! will help you beat up your abusive dad! probably bi! also he has his tits out at all times and who am i to say no 2 that

personality: part of the reason that he’s isolated from other people (and othered) is his social class... but a main part of it is how his childhood kind of, created his personality. he doesn’t really connect to social norms (or laws), has niche interests, and has a “weird”, disconnected personality (again, made way worse by living 100 years past his lifetime). that being said, he’s not emotionally unintelligent, has interests outside of fighting, and is ultimately a good person

(maybe don’t read this one if you’re interested in watching? it’s all spoilers) Depression: ban willingly runs head-first into danger not just bc it’s a valid fighting technique for someone who can’t die but bc he’s... too ready to give up. but this reveal is only interesting bc it comes after like. a period of getting along with the group, being friends and having fun. ultimately hanging out with them hasn’t solved his problems - it’s just made him able to put them aside for a little while... until his trauma gets brought up, at which point he’s willing to take the first hint of an easy exit, despite how unlikely it is that it’d achieve his supposed goal, if it just lets him relieve himself of his guilt and existential suffering by letting him believe for just one second that he can fix all of the things that he “broke” with his own death (note: killing melio.das would have broken his heart and probably have been suicide by proxy). (this causes a lot of trouble and is not framed as positive, but it’s also not framed as all his fault. and he has to deal with the consequences of this? he realises in retrospect that it was an incredibly unsound idea? and lEAVES THE GROUP BC HE REALISES HE HAS TO TAKE A BREAK???)

comparing ban to a traditional vampire arc: unlike with vampires (who are often an allegory for a group of people, e.g. rich people or oppressed groups) there’s only one ban. and therefore instead of having a group with the same trauma he just suffers alone

meaningful conflict between the main characters. i don’t think i’ve ever really gotten this in a shonen show? there’s a LOT of unresolved trauma. the characters still work together bc they’re Adults... but it’s simmering

ban <-> meli: meli is the only person besides elaine who ever really understood ban... but that doesn’t mean that ban’s ok, now (in fact, the resentment about only being understood by one person kind of makes him... worse). (e: meli also has connections to the rare fantasy creature which started ban’s life hell). ban has too much damage to the point that he becomes a liability

ban <-> king: resolved early, but still good. king is convinced that ban is the cause of all of his suffering partly bc he’s too jealous to admit that smo else got close to his sister when he couldn’t; ban has enough guilt that he just Takes It. even afterwards their personalities are kind of incompatible so it’s fun to see them hang out

meli <-> (king <-> diane): relationship drama but it’s not a frustrating bc it’s relevant to each character’s flaws and Baggage (and the plot doesn’t bother to pretend that diane will end up with melio). king has a lot of guilt over accidentally (?) ghosting his family and SOME of it’s valid (but not all). king is jealous of meli for being the target of diane’s affection but also kind of lowkey thinks he doesn’t deserve her bc of the pain he’s caused her

meli <-> elizabeth <-> diane: diane KNOWS she’s not going to be in a relationship with meli but she still desperately holds onto hope. diane’s fears about being unlovable feed into her lack of self esteem as an oppressed (or at minimum, villanized) minority

elizabeth (the princess) is firmly a member of the team and her determination and character improvement is taken seriously. she DOES get badass moments BEFORE she’s revealed to be a reincarnated angel child or whatever

diane (the only female member of the 7 sins who has a big role this season) is consistently taken seriously (by the writers & other characters)

elizabeth & diane get to INTERACT!! and BE FRIENDS!!

i love elaine. first show i’ve seen that (unintentionally? & through fantasy tropes??) nails Older Sister Disease, i.e. the oldest female sibling being left to deal with all the family business, emotional and physical baggage, while all the male/younger siblings just fuck off. caring for your family members but also lowkey resenting them. they don’t invalidate her feelings even after relieving king of a little of the responsibility for her suffering. (i liked the romance prequel manga a lot - i p much only picked up the anime bc i bought into the romance b/w her and ban)

(despite everything) meli.odas acts like a proper leader for his squad. he takes his responsibilities seriously and treats his colleagues as his equals

ngl the twist with gowther disguising himself and his protagonist hair as a disposable marked-for-death npc was really funny

aesthetic is unique and distinct from the overdone isekai dnd fantasy that’s popular atm

the first ed song by flow & granr.odeo cheers me up every time

the feeling of going on an adventure with your buddies. it’s fun!

[writing-royza]

Two Hundred and Forty-seven — In the Dead of Night, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! It’s been an awesome week off... and tomorrow, it’s back to work. I’m good with that. I’m also good with the cute bit if Royza that you’re about to read, so here you go.

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Forty-seven — In the Dead of Night, 3.0

Never had her bed been this comfortable. After a week and a half spent in hospital, another three days spent visiting Roy there every chance she got, and trying to get their former office back in some semblance of order following the Promised Day, it had been one late night after another, and tonight had been no exception. She had come home only two hours previous, barely remembered to shed her uniform, and foregone pajamas in favour of crawling under the covers sooner.

However rarely it happened, there were times when Riza was tired enough that she simply didn’t care.

Half-awake as she turned over, privately luxuriating in the feel of clean cotton sheets against her skin, she ignored the quiet, happy panting as Hayate jumped up on the bed behind her. A quick scratch behind his ears, and then she let her hand drop to the mattress.

A cold, wet nose touched her cheek, and she frowned, pulling away. “No, boy. Sleep time, not play time.” When his nose failed to rouse his mistress, Hayate whined softly, pawing at her arm. Riza opened one eye. “Why is your paw wet? Did you step in your water bowl and then climb up on my bed?” A big doggie smile and more happy panting were her only answer.

And then she heard the drip. And another. And another.

Suddenly wide awake, she sat up, listening hard, eyes roaming the apartment. The noise was quiet, but in the main room… there. In the shafts of moonlight coming through the window, she could just make out the faint sheen on the floor.

“Oh no….”

Climbing from the bed, she moved to the nearest light switch, flicked it on… and stared.

Water covered part of the floor in a thin puddle, emanating outward from the cupboard beneath the sink. A steady drip fell along the two inch gap beneath the bottom of the cupboard and the floor, producing the soft drip she had heard. The pool spread wide, stopping a few feet shy of the closet inside the front door, but halfway underneath the table and along in front of the bathroom.

Raking one hand back through her hair, the other on her hip, Riza shook her head in wonderment. How had she slept through this? The obvious answer was the string of late nights and hard work, but even so….

With a sigh, she moved toward the kitchen table and the telephone, stepping gingerly around offshoots of the puddle. Her landlord, she knew, was out of the city on vacation, but a call to Roy would put all of this quickly to rest, and then —

Her hand stopped, hovering over the receiver. One call to Roy — to the man who was in just as rough of shape as she was, physically and emotionally, who had slept only a little more, and, most importantly, was spending his first night out of hospital in two weeks in the comfort of his own home.

She withdrew her hand, inwardly chiding herself at her forgetfulness. Let him sleep. Goodness knows he deserves it. Turning to face the leak again, she paused in thought for a moment, then nodded decisively and turned toward her dresser. The leak wasn’t that bad. She could deal with this herself.

———————-

Walking up the stairs to her apartment, Roy replayed the strange phone call in his mind. The ringing of the telephone had shaken him from an already fitful sleep, and he hadn’t bothered to turn over to find the receiver.

“Hello?”

“….Hello.”

Her voice had been strange. A mixture of dread, regret, and weariness that brought him sitting instinctively upright. “Riza? It’s three a.m., what’s wrong?”

“I was trying to avoid calling you, but —“ She had breathed out a huff of annoyance, though whether at herself or something else was a mystery. “I have a problem over here, and I’ve tried to fix it on my own, but I think I’ve only made a bigger mess of things. My landlord is away, so I can’t —“

“Whoa, whoa, Riza, slow down.” Smiling, he had tossed back the blanket and swung his legs off the side of the couch. “It’s okay. What do you need me to do?”

Which was how he found himself at her door at three-thirty in the morning, staring as she answered his knock barefoot in a dusty pink button-down shirt and a pair of pale grey flannel pants, with her hair twisted hurriedly into a loose, messy ponytail.

Her smile was rueful. “Did I mention I’m sorry for dragging you over here?”

“Did I mention it’s not your fault and you probably did the right thing in calling me?” Stepping inside, he caught sight of the wide puddle on her kitchen floor and his eyebrows shot upward. “…Though I didn’t think it would be this bad….”

“It was worse the last time,” she admitted, closing the door and turning to survey the damage. “The leak was stronger, and went unnoticed for longer.” She moved forward, motioning him to follow. “Don’t worry about your boots; they’ll be more help than hindrance, I suspect.”

The kitchen cupboards along the floor stood open, their contents — mostly household cleaning supplies — moved to the counter for easier access to the leak. An aged pipe steadily dripped onto the bottom, the smaller puddle there seeping out to join with the one on the floor.

Riza indicated the coupling where the pipe joined a second. “There. If you could alchemise a tighter seal, that should take care of it. I’d turn off the water entirely, but the cutoff is in a locked panel halfway down the hall, and I’d cut water to two other apartments at the same time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and leaving it on the table. “It’s okay; I get it. Hang on a second….”

Just to clap still felt strange, but taking the time to draw a transmutation circle onto the pipe wasn’t high on his priorities, and the water was only liable to wash away the chalk before he could transmute. The minute his palms touched with the intention of performing alchemy, his fingertips tingled with unreleased energy, causing him to draw a quick, involuntary breath.

Roy crouched in front of the open cabinets, reaching out to touch the pipe, and watched in amazement as what he pictured mentally came to life. The old pipework, roughened after so long in service, smoothed, the coupling still visible but now fully fused to the rest of it.

He withdrew his hand, looking up at Riza with a grin. “Well, if you ever need new pipes, they’ll have to tear them out entirely, but at least you shouldn’t have any more surprise leaks.”

She lifted a dubious eyebrow. “Given the age of the building, I say give it time… but thank you, sir. I really appreciate this.” She smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry to have called you over for such a short amount of time. I imagine you’re anxious to get back to bed, so I won’t keep you.”

“What kind of help would it really be if I didn’t at least help you clean up?” he said, grinning. “I mean, I’m already here.”

“But —!”

His finger touched her lips, stifling further protest. “Riza, I’m genuinely offering. It’s all right, I wasn’t sleeping that well at home anyway. Let me do this.”

Brown eyes watched him intently, her lips moving against his still-present finger. “…Why weren’t you sleeping?”

Heat suffused his chest, along with a nervous energy that hadn’t been present since the awkward confession of feelings some four days previous. “I….” He faltered for a moment, before deciding it was already too late. There was no avoiding the subject now. “I guess, sharing a room with you while we recovered… I just got used to you being there.” He shrugged, dropping his hand away from her face. “I suppose I miss it.”

Her expression didn’t give away much, except for faint surprise and something that looked dangerously close to happiness.”…Perhaps this is a little forward, but… sir, are you saying you want to stay the night?”

Roy was almost surprised at his lack of hesitation as he answered, “I believe that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

[lostallblue]

OCs #1 + #2

in other news, i have way too many ocs. i can’t even. i hate myself. but these two dorks are two of my favourites and also they come as a pair so i have to post them together. it just can’t be otherwise, mate.

so here we’ve got actual murder child celia and soft, book-nerd horatio. me? have a problem naming characters so i just name them after shakespeare’s characters? would i do that? it’s more likely than you think. incidentally, i hate epithets so much. how do you come up with them? i don’t have a clue.

@hundredsunny enjoy my nerd ocs (i’m thepinkfluffyunicorn btw, this is just my one piece blog). they’re both idiots but i love them.

NAME: jernigan celia EPITHET: the nightwalker -  because she murders people at night, truly an imaginative name. NICKNAMES: lee (literally only horatio gets away with this), most people just call her by jernigan unless they’re close friends. AGE: 21 (pre) 23 (post) BDAY: 1st of december BIRTHPLACE: arden island in the grand line - a foresty spring island with lots of big, terrifying monsters. heck yeah. GENDER: female HEIGHT:  5.8 WEIGHT: 69kg HAIR: black, v straight. EYES: dark. APPEARANCE: celia is this tol girl with kind of medium-brown skin? she looks vaguely arabian? she tends to tie her hair back with complex plaits that mean things in her culture. she has one that means honour, another that means something overcome and three for each member of her family that were killed or went missing. the rest tend to vary depending on the situation. her style is very casual when she's not in assassin-mode. jeans and a graphic t-shirt are her sort of thing. with strong boots that can handle lots of work. she also has a leather jacket that she pinched from a shop in loguetown once. she loves it. she does, however, love the chance to dress up. she goes for really gorgeous dresses that are all long and shiny. but she only rarely gets the chance. when in assassin mode, she wears tight, dark clothes with a hood and light shoes with a good grip. and knives. lots of knives. SMELL: the blood of her enemies. FAVE FOOD: lasagne FAVE DRINK: berry cider (and by that, i mean the sort we have over here that's alcoholic) FAVE SEASON: summer REPRESENTATIVE NATIONALITY: welsh BOUNTY: 100 000 000 - but not for celia the person, just for the nightwalker the assassin. they don't know who she is. because she’s a snek. DEVIL FRUIT: none! PROFESSION: private assassin CREW: none PERSONALITY: celia is an angry bean who wants to fight you. she's pretty good at concealing her feelings, but is pretty much at ease with them. she's fine with being a pretty emotional person. she's also hecka oblivious. she doesn't notice when people flirt with her. it just goes right over her head. horatio thinks it's hilarious. she would 10/10 flirt back if she realised - not that she's actually any good at flirting. her version of flirting usually involves knives in some way. she loves her knives. a lot. never leaves home without them. has named all of them and can actually tell them all apart, even the ones that look identical to literally anyone else. she loves horatio a whole lot. would literally tear the world to shreds for him. he's basically her brother in every way that actually matters. he makes her laugh when nobody else can and is the only person who can draw her out of her own head when she gets lost in her thoughts. he's also basically the only person she cares about. she hates slavers and murders them. she also appreciates money a lot. would definitely rip you off if you gave her the chance. she has a big thing about being able to make her own choices and having control over her own life - a consequence of being a former slave. she's also illiterate, so that's a problem. she doesn't deal well with being reminded of it. horatio's tried to teach her, but she's probs dyslexic so she struggles a lot with it and doesn't have the patience to actually commit to learning it. anyone who calls her stupid will face her knives. LIKES: her knives, horatio, generally pasta, tomatoes, alcohol, murdering evil people who own slaves, pretty dresses, make-up. DISLIKES: slavers, feeling stupid, spring because she has a pollen allergy WEAPONS: celia has knives. celia's life is made up of knives. she loves her knives. she would marry her knives. she's also very good with her knives. HISTORY: celia was born on arden island which is a pretty cool place. mostly forest with a few villages and a few bigger towns. no big cities. celia's home village was on the edge, looking out onto a beach and the ocean but with a forest at its back. it had one of the only three docks on the island so they saw a lot of business from both marines and pirates. anyway, a couple of years later, celia's little sister - rosalind - was born. celia and rosalind were really close as kids, they both loved to explore the forest outside their home. but when celia was nine, slavers raided their village and a bunch of people were killed, including celia's parents. both celia and rosalind were taken as slaves. they managed to stay together at first, but when they were sold at sabaody, they were seperated and celia never saw her sister again. she became a celestial dragon slave and everything was pretty bad for a while. when she was fourteen, yuji - a former marine who'd started his own group of rebels separate to the revolutionary army because he didn't think dragon was doing enough - freed a bunch of slaves of which celia was one. celia joined up with his group because she didn't have anywhere else to go and yuji taught her how to fight and kill. he basically used her as his assassin, sending her out to kill his enemies. celia adored him though, he had saved her and yuji was pretty good at making people like him. when celia was eighteen, yuji brought horatio back severely injured and celia watched horatio get better and then - in her eyes - steal her place at yuji's side. see, that was kind of yuji's shtick, manipulate people into caring about him and then pit them against each other so that they didn't band together and turn against him. so at first, celia was super jealous and that meant that she and horatio did not get along. at all. they fought constantly. but because celia was no longer quite so focused on by yuji, she started noticing how...awful and manipulative he was toward horatio. she noticed how often he'd emotionally abuse and manipulate him and make him feel like he owed yuji the world. which, she realised part way through, was pretty much exactly what he'd done to her. so she started trying to befriend horatio. at first, horatio didn't trust her. but they did slowly become friends. and celia started trying to convince horatio to leave with her. because she could see how much damage yuji was doing to him and she was Not Okay with it. horatio completely ignored her at first, but bit by bit she managed to convince him that yuji wasn't as good as he thought. and eventually, they managed to run away and headed for the grand line together. this would be when celia's about twenty. they basically set themselves up as slaver-hunters. they assassinate big people in the slave-trading business and, along the way, celia looks for her little sister.

and the next dork.

NAME: tveit horatio (not that he uses his surname) EPITHET: NICKNAMES: AGE: 18 (pre), 20 (post) BDAY: 4th of january BIRTHPLACE: icthus island in the north blue GENDER: male HEIGHT: 5.6 WEIGHT: 55kg HAIR: horatio has floppy, straight white hair. and yes, that is natural, he hasn't gone white because of stress. although he 10/10 probably would have done, if that was possible. EYES: blue APPEARANCE: horatio is actually? pretty good-looking which makes celia hiss because then people start trying to flirt with him. he's mega lanky, noodle arms all over the place. a smol boy who is just...v short, for a guy. he was tol once, back when he was like eleven, but he hasn't grown since, so......concerning. for added shortness appreciation, he's shorter than nami. chopper is the only straw hat he's taller than. this is hilarious to me. he also appreciates looking good, so most of his clothes are pretty well-made. he likes the woollen top-coat over jumper and shirt Look because he thinks he looks distinguished. celia think it makes him look like a nerd.   he has a lot of pretty horrible scars all over his body, so he tries to stay as covered up as physically possible. he likes the coat because it covers his neck when he keeps the collar up. and whenever he can get away with it without looking weird (read, whenever it's not too hot for it) he likes to wear a dark red wool scarf that he knitted himself. he likes a good pair of oxford shoes, but he tends to wear boots more because they're easier to run and fight in. he also carries throwing knives, but they're normally under his coat. he uses a long, black cane to walk - because his hip is really badly damaged and he has a bad limp. but! at least he has a cane with which to look cool and also to break the bones of his enemies. SMELL: butterscotch FAVE FOOD: banoffee pie FAVE DRINK: hot chocolate FAVE SEASON: autumn - he likes the colours and anything pumpkin/pumpkin-spice flavoured. REPRESENTATIVE NATIONALITY: norwegian BOUNTY: currently none and they're desperately trying to keep it that way. DEVIL FRUIT: none! PROFESSION: spy - as in, he spies and finds information about targets for celia, who then kills them. CREW: none PERSONALITY: horatio is an anxious nerd, okay? he's such a nerd. he's actually on the autistic spectrum so he has Special Interests such as astronomy and history. he also fixated on linguistics years ago and has never let go. he tends to feel emotions really strongly and cares a whole lot, but struggles a lot with both processing and actually showing his emotions. feelings in general are very confusing to him. he tends to do his absolute best to ignore his feelings until they become overwhelming and cause him to shut down. he sometimes loses his language when that happens. he also has OCD. so that's a fun time. he's pretty charming when he needs to be though. v flirtatious, which is hilarious considering he's hecka aro-ace. he knows how to make people do what he wants them to do. an important skill considering his job. but don't let any of that fool you, horatio is actually an idiot. sometimes he does stuff and he doesn't even know why he did the thing. he just did it. when he isn't on a job, he doesn't think about the consequences of his actions. he just acts on impulse. he's a dumbo. LIKES: books, history, linguistics, astronomy, dancing, pumpkins, stimming and also the ocean in general - horatio loves the ocean a lot. DISLIKES: potatoes, his family, slavery + slave owners, having Feelings(tm), lilies because he's allergic, bad rulers/monarchs, the marines as a whole annoy him a lot because he thinks they're all idiots which, i mean, in all fairness.... WEAPONS: like i said, he uses throwing knives a lot and also his cane which he can swing around with deadly efficiency. not to mention, nobody ever takes it away from him when he's going into places where weapons aren't allowed. you know that scene in lord of the rings: the two towers where the rohirrim are trying to take gandalf's staff away from him but gandalf's like 'you wouldn't take an old man's stick away from him, would you?' and they let him keep it. that's horatio. horatio is not above using his disability to manipulate people. HISTORY: okay so horatio was born on icthus island. but he wasn't just a random person. he was born into the royal family! specifically the tveit family. he had five brothers and a sister. all of them hated him. the tveit family is awful. in general. they're cruel rulers. so pretty much from day one, his family were terrible to him. see, they picked up pretty quickly that he was Weird because it took him like four years to talk for the first time and then it was in full sentences. and from then on, he was just...odd? from their point-of-view. they were really stiff and formal and, also, they owned slaves. because why not? at first horatio wasn't against what they did both to others and also to him, because he didn't know any better, but then. a thing happened. his nurse - aurora - who helped him to speak and taught him to handle his anxiety and sensory issues when his family would just dismiss or punish him for his bad moments, was blamed for a theft when he was nine. it was actually horatio's older sister who broke the thing that was 'stolen' then lied about it and...everybody knew. but that didn't really matter to the king and queen, so they executed aurora for theft. and horatio lost the one person who actually cared about him. it was this that really jarred him out of the whole 'this is okay' thing and he realised how awful everything they did really was. and he started trying to protect the slaves in their palace. but that just made his family more annoyed with him. and so it carried on for, like, five years in pretty much the same way. horatio did something that upset them, they beat him for it or locked him up or starved him. everything sucked. and then everything really went wrong. when he was fifteen, he made the terrible mistake of befriending a slave called antonio. antonio was from the grand line - specifically alabasta! - and told him stories about the nefertari family who are amazing rulers and so kind. horatio low-key didn't believe him, but he still has a vague dream of going to alabasta and meeting nefertari vivi and her father. but then horatio's brother found out about his friendship with antonio. before then, horatio had mostly just tried to protect the slaves, but had never actually befriended them before. his brother was disgusted at the idea of his younger brother actually befriending a slave and 'disgracing their family' in such a way. his brother told their parents and... they had both horatio and antonio brought before them. after confirming that what horatio's brother had said was true, they executed antonio. but they didn't stop there. instead, they cheerfully went on to sentence horatio to death for disgracing the family name. they basically had him tortured for days. his siblings went to town on him. and after like two weeks, they left him outside the palace to die on his own. and it was here that old yuji found him. horatio was barely alive, but yuji took him back to his nearest base and managed to save his life. this whole fiasco - btw - is why horatio needs a cane. which sucks. horatio's family believe that they murdered him, so they had this big funeral for him ala sanji and the vinsmokes, except they actually think he's dead. and this is the big reason why celia and horatio are trying to hard to make sure he doesn't get a bounty. because they do not want to risk his family finding him again. so we already know how the whole thing with yuji went. celia realises what's going on and tries to convince horatio to leave. but it takes him forever to believe her because one of the big issues that his family left him with is that, well, he has absurdly low expectations for how people treat him. in his mind, if they're not physically abusing him, then everything's cool. because they're not as bad as his family. so that's why it took her so long to convince him. horatio's about seventeen when they leave.

CANON TIME-PERIOD CONNECTIONS: they - as a duo - have their first encounter with canon one piece characters about half-way through the pre-time skip era? they arrive in alabasta post-war and end up in a Fiasco that leads to them meeting vivi. which was their intention anyway because horatio really, really wanted to meet vivi. vivi gets on with horatio the best - the old both being royals thing really helps with friendship, apparently. celia spend roughly half the time pouting because she thought horatio liked vivi more than her. she is easily made jealous. but they do end up friends in the end and it's all good. vivi told them stories about the straw-hats and as a result, the Dynamic Duo really want to meet them. just because of that. they end up leaving about enies lobby time and heading off along the grand-line for more adventure. and murder. that too. they also run into old jewelry bonney part way through her journey, after they leave alabasta. celia fights her. then they end up bonding over mutual pasta appreciation. so that's nice. horatio was Amused. i haven't fully thought through their time-skip existence, but i know that celia wants to meet luffy even more just so she can congratulate him on punching a celestial dragon. the day she heard about it, she literally cheered. it was great. 

[nookishposts]

Boundaries

*** Special note; this is not a cheerful post and contains potential triggers for those vulnerable to issues of childhood trauma. This is a true story.

When I was 10 years old, I met a man who was kind and caring, funny, affectionate, and had been matched through the Big Brother’s Association with the 12 year old brother of a friend of mine. His job was working with persons with physical and mental challenges and he seemed to genuinely thrive on helping others. I was often a part of family events where he was present, and the Little Brother he had been matched with, hung on this man’s every word. It was lovely.

Fast forward almost 20 years, and I run into this gentleman at the recreation facility I was working at; he was waiting for a meeting with my executive director for some kind of mutually beneficial programming. We had a hug and a nice catch-up and he was still in touch with his Little Brother (now in his 30s, but still struggling with emotional issues) as well as the rest of the family. Over the next few years, we periodically met for coffee, he came to my home for social events, and after quite a few years, he came out to me. I escorted him to his very first Gay Pride event and he nearly wept with the impact of an environment he’d always felt he needed to hide from. I was proud of him for his bravery, as I knew it had been a long journey for him to stand that day among his peers. He asked me if I would be interested in accompanying him on a visit to his Little Brother, a day trip, about 90 minutes each way. I said sure.

Little Brother was at this point a young grandfather, living on a disability pension and with a woman who seemed to care for him, their dog, and some kind neighbours. Their home was tidy and humble and they insisted we share a meal. Little Brother, agoraphobic among other things, agreed to go for a walk on the beach since I was there and he felt safe with Big Brother around. Big Brother even trimmed little Brother’s hair for him while we visited, apparently something that happens every few weeks. It was a very sweet reunion and we talked of fun stuff we got up to as kids, going through old school photos and some of his sister and her family, his Mum, Big Brother, often in the family gatherings.

On the way home, Big and I got to talking and he confessed to a gambling addiction and volunteering for the provincial self-disclosure status at Ontario Casinos. His photo is in a book with other self-professed gambling addicts so they can be stopped at the door and refused entry should they lapse in their recovery. I confessed that I had struggled with addictions myself when I was younger but thanks to the help of a wonderful therapist, off and on for about 20 years, I had come to understand my triggers and put many of them to rest. I shared with him that a family member had been a pedophile and that for 11 years I was his favorite target, kept quiet only because of his threats to harm others close to me if I dared disclose. At 15 I was finally big enough to stop him, fully prepared to die by his hand, but knowing I just could not endure any more. The fact that I didn’t die, that he walked away defeated after the struggle, and the balance of power shifted so dramatically, made me hate myself for not having fought back earlier. (It took a while to understand why I didn’t) I went on to explain that it took years of lying to cover up the damages and finally being unrelentingly suicidal that got me to disclose, and eventually to the right person for help. That I finally understood I was not to blame. (Statistics and research are very clear that when children cannot find a reason for a loved one abusing them physically, sexually, or emotionally, they assume they are bad/evil/need punishment, solely for the sake of having a reason. I concur. I was absolutely sure I was the sick and evil one.) I talked about the permanent damage, the occasional swamp of flashbacks that come without warning even now, and that I thought anyone who abused children or animals willfully should have a special place reserved for them in Hell, where they spend the rest of their consciousness feeling exactly what their victims felt at their mercy. Big Brother nearly drove off the road, and I felt bad for having upset him. I apologized for being a little too honest, and we changed the subject.

 Forward another 10 years and I am living in Winnipeg. In a phone conversation with my Mum, she gently tells me that Big Brother (who she also came to know pretty well) is in jail for sexual assault of a minor. His sister`s grown boy. His own nephew. A man now in his 30s who also sought help and finally had the courage to charge his Uncle with the ruination of his childhood; his repeated molestation at the hands of Big Brother. Big decided to confess rather than go through a public trial, and he admitted everything. Of course I was rattled. I told myself at the time that I was very glad the nephew got help, spoke up, and that Big actually owned it. I was also glad he was doing jail time for it.

Now we are up to date and I know Big has been out of jail for at least a year. I attended a public outdoor concert very recently with my Mum, and who should be sitting on the apron of stage right, facing and watching the crowd, especially all the little children, shirtless or in bathing suits due to the heat, but Big Brother. With a sly smile on his face. My Mum noticed him too, and asked me if I needed to move. I thought about it for just a second before saying No. When Big,scanning the crowd, looked our way, he saw me and his expression changed.I decided that if he was bold enough to approach, I would simply and quietly say`: `Don`t`, and turn away. I would not run. I would not hit him tempting as that might be.Unless he refused to leave, at which point I would either call police or raise holy hell, or maybe both. I was glad I had on sunglasses and he would not be able to see my eyes if he got close enough. I took a few deep breaths and tried really hard to concentrate on the music, the soft summer evening, the sweet interaction of all-agers assembled for the event. What I really wanted to do was run out and scoop up every one of those wee ones and hand them back to their parents and tell them why. The 4-15 year old still alive inside of me wanted to vomit and then go hide. The 56 year old wanted to beat the living shit of out of Big and expose him to the world. How dare he be there, watching, thinking god-knows-what as he watched those children play.

Big stayed put for the entire concert. He left immediately afterward, but I didn’t see him go. As far as I know, he was alone.

When Big Brother’s predatory story broke, the Association that matched him with Little Brother stated they had never had any whiff of wrong-doing when Big was a member.  Big’s employer said much the same. But years earlier, when Big discovered I was working in social services, there were 2 men he asked if I had ever come across professionally as colleagues. And I knew them both. When I mentioned Big’s name to each of them, they nodded and changed the subject so quickly I was left wondering.Their reactions made sense when Big’s story came out. They would have been the same age as his nephew. I highly suspect that both of those professional men, like me, got some good help in dealing with whatever Big brought to their lives, and it may in fact have contributed to their choice of career. Stats are also clear that abused children often choose a helping profession: either to atone for what they perceive as their own flaw/crime, or to try to intervene and advocate on behalf of other victims. I did. The stats also show that when someone abuses a child, the likelihood that they have more than 1 or 2 victims is very high. My abuser had several that we know about because a couple of them confronted him on his deathbed. I fully expect there are more who could not.

Abusers are very shrewd, very adept. They charm, they groom, they commit and then, having discerned their victim’s most vulnerable traits, they threaten. They are cunning. They make a conscious choice, a choice between right and wrong, and they do it over and over and over. They target and they plan. It’s seldom spontaneous.There is a theory that some abusers want to get caught, they offend so they can get help. I can’t handle that one. Like gambling addicts, there is a program whereby those who feel they might offend can self-declare and receive a chemical castration and enforced counselling. There is also evidence that the majority of abusers were themselves abused as children. But nobody that I know that has been abused has ever had the urge to offend in the same way, so I wonder about the legitimacy of that angle. I have been part of or connected as a resource to many many people who were abused as children and they have confessed some dark things, but never the urge to abuse another child.

My view is of course highly prejudiced by my own experience. I am one of the very lucky ones who after a few false starts found the right therapist and was able to do the work, piece by piece, over many years. I still have the occasional nightmare. I still have a couple of resources I can draw upon if I really need to. There is a certain cologne, and also a certain series of scents that will put me on high alert until I can talk myself down. No matter how much good help you get, it never leaves. It’s a part of your forever. You learn to accept it with as much healthy perspective as you can muster, but sometimes, even that isn’t enough. The MeToo Movement has been a very long time coming and will take a long time to get us where we need to go.

As for Big Brother...I have a LOT of questions. Is he allowed to be in such a public forum where children and young adults will be? Was his jail sentence the sum total of his debt to society and to his nephew? What could the police actually do, if anything at all, if I did call and explain who he was and the circumstances?  I also wonder about Little Brother and how much of Big’s influence contributes to the deepened challenges he has faced all of his life. Only Big’s victims will ever know the extent of they price they paid. But as far as I’m concerned Big himself has not paid nearly enough for his crime..for stealing innocence, for stealing trust, for causing  sickening sleepless nights and the angst of anticipation that he might show up again, or worse, make good on his threats leaving his victims blaming themselves for his behaviours, just as he wants them to. Theirs is a lifetime sentence. Trust me on that one. I am fortunate that I live a very good life in spite of how it could easily have been. I made a choice too, but only from a desperation so deep it could have cost me everything. There are so many of us.

There are good people in this world. Enough to make a real difference. We cannot afford not to ask the hard questions. Nor to keep the secrets. If there is someone in your life,...there is help, and others who will walk beside you every step of the way to it.

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

The good & bad of fear, the running & the rising

There are two meanings apparently to fear 1. Is to forget everything and run or 2. Face everything and rise. I've ran for years so many years, I'm told this is because that's what my mother used to do . But I've ran for so many reasons, I started emotionally running away when I was 12 and began self harming. Then I physically started running away from home soon after. I'd forget time and time again who I am and where I'm from and to stand up straight and bare the consequences. Family lives are private, it's not the norm to talk about what goes on behind closed doors or how we function or dysfunction as a family unit. I have been reminded continuously that the decisions I make for Ollie and I and my parenting are consequences I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I believe that also includes my choice to over expose our journey knowing full well he will be able to access this and his friends and family when he's older through social media. So do I dare speak up and speak out about the sexual abuse? The time I was so financially ruined I turned to stripping? The resentment the self loathing. Do I speak up and deal with the consequences of that I went over 48 hours without eating and relying on my medication to keep me stable whilst I try find support services away from my family and stress and plan over and over ways to provide for Ollie and I once my maternity leave ends in March. There are rules, there are games I don't often abide by the rules or play the game fairly, leaving me to be on the outside. I cry, I swear, I say fuck you and get back up and try again. I'm not a quitter even when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and have my hair stroked and told how everything will be ok. My upbringing on both sides of my family was a crazy mess in two very different ways. My life has been continually assessed by professional psychiatrists and counsellors as "traumatic and survival not living". Survival makes me think I'm this lioness out for the hunt somedays other days it feels like I'm this washed up bogan of a shambles who keeps her cereal and crisps in the same cupboard as her dresses and skirts. My fear of rising and doing my best to not emotionally damage Ollie is insane. Apparently though so long as you're bonding, caring and being proactive just 30% of the time your small human should pull through emotionally un fucked up. 👌🏼 I like to remind myself of that 30% when my child is screaming, he's sleeping but I'm not because I'm a paranoid anxious Mama bear. I'm really trying to focus on Ollie and absorb the preciousness of maternity leave to the point I've switched him to cloth nappies to help him on the hot days at home and learning his body clock and his cues and needs. Mornings for someone who is hands down NOT a morning person are my fave with Ollie we co-sleep in bed from around 5am after the 4:30am feed, and he just lays there all set up next to me snoozing ever so sweetly that my heart just bursts and in this fleeting moment I'm like please don't ever grow up, I wants another mini. Then my ovaries practically kick me painfully back to pregnancy and childbirth, those first weeks, Months, pain, tears, drama and I'm like no thank you one wee gang member is enough. So I face those feelings of fear of all my self doubt as a mother a semi functioning human and I rise. His sweet smile washes me with calm. Having fear and forgetting everything and running isn't often a bad thing though, I practice this daily like spontaneous late afternoon beach hangs some sunscreen no swimmers and running down to the ocean with my singlet only butt naked child into the ocean. Laughing away as we lap up the salty goodness of the ocean bent over with my gorgeous granny panties hanging out and running from and forgetting all the fear of judgement and just being in that moment, Running wild and free. That's the positive I find somedays in forgetting everything and running is that we just go off on these beautiful adventures. Im sure there's mental health critics reading this going fuck she's showing signs of manic depression right now or delusional behaviour. But I'm just being me. Clinical shit and meds aside, sometimes the forgetting brings peace. The running brings strength. I am not a manipulating human being nor am I as recently asked "a two faced cunt and that's how I've been living my whole life?" I am me, not soul searching, down to earth organic free range egg eating yogi, more like an assortment of jelly babies, that listens to slipknot whilst breathing and doing a mid morning yoga stretch. I buy homebrand food but love to go out for brekky on the weekends to whole foods cafes. I believe in Crystal and holistic healing but I also love my saving grace Valium. I use cloth nappies but I obsessively bleach my bathroom twice a week, dettol wipe down everything to hospital grade clean despite the environment. I'm not unbreakable, I'm emotional, scared, twisted and broken. Torn and confused. But every morning I flip the bird to Satan and say not today satan not today, and persevere in some weird and wonderfully OCD routined way. I pretty much practice insomnia like a yoga class as I toss and turn at night chanting to myself sleep Mama bear sleep. This journeys wild and I draw outside the lines. But I am so proud of me for being here, being present and not giving up. So when your day is shit just say fuck it only the good die young so I've got plenty of days to make up for this shitty one 😉 Laugh as loud and freely as you can wild child's.